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The hunt had been easier than expected. Well, that’s not to say everything had gone perfectly. Dean was completely covered in blood—it squelched underneath his boots with every step—and the vamp had nearly taken a bite out of Sam, but they had had it under control. Dean had been doing vamp hunts since he was heavy enough to handle a machete, and he knew exactly how to handle them. Plus, watching Cas slice off the head of one that had nearly pinned Dean against a wall had certainly… done things to Dean. It reminded him of the heavenly fury that Cas used to hold within him. Dean still caught glimpses of it from time to time but it had been replaced by something warmer.
The trio had just returned to the bunker, Sam going straight to his room with the intention of collapsing on his bed. For now, it was just Dean and Cas in the map room. Jack had skipped this hunt, and—if he had listened to Cas—should be sleeping soundly in his bed.
Dean pulled out a chair from the map table, sitting down to unlace his boots. He glanced up for a moment and internally sighed at the bloody footprints tracking him to his seat; those were going to be killer on his back to clean up.
As if he had read his mind (and Dean had never quite been able to convince himself that angels weren’t mindreaders) Cas interrupted his thoughts.
“I’ll take care of it, Dean,” Cas said, and with a wave of his hands, the footprints were gone. As was the dust, and the dirt, and the general grime of living with hunters.
Something swelled within Dean. Sitting there, one shoe on and one shoe off, Dean knew that he would never like anyone as much as he liked Cas. He was earnest, kind, funny. Whenever they watched movies together, Dean never felt like he had to draw attention to his favorite parts, the ones that everyone had to see, because Cas was always already paying attention. Even now, just watching Cas absentmindedly rub his hands along the wall, Dean never wanted to look away. A nervous energy filled him, the same one that had sparked through his fingertips when he made Cas keep the mixtape.
“Cas, I love you.”
The lights burst. The overhead lights, the lamps, even the counter lights in the kitchen, all shattered, glass flying everywhere. Dean tucked his head under his arms, bracing himself, but nothing ever hit him. When he looked back up, in the small light available, he could see it bouncing off the glass that had stopped in a perfect circle around him. By now, the back-up generator should have come to life with a steady hum, but the bunker remained silent and dark. Dean felt cocooned in the night.
“Tha—That was not the reaction I was expecting,” Dean said, still half-hunched over. “Cas, buddy, are you okay?” Dean winced at the buddy, knowing what he had confessed moments before.
“Yes.” Cas’ voice was close, closer than he thought it would be. Dean sat straight up in his chair, and could hear the crunch of glass as Cas made his way over to him, although his face was still lost to the darkness. Stepping over the ring of glass the way one used to avoid cracks on the sidewalk, Cas kneeled down in front of Dean.
Distantly, Dean could hear Jack or Sam start to bump around, likely caught off guard by the sudden lack of light, but Dean didn’t have it within him to care about that. Cas’ face was inches from his, and his hands were reaching up slowly, tentatively. Dean saw them stop just before they touched his face, and realized that Cas was silently asking for permission. Dean nodded, and closed his eyes at the warmth on his cheek.
“I love you too,” Cas said. There was no hesitance, no room for doubt. Cas said it like he had been saying it his whole life. Dean leaned in, and he felt Cas do the same. Cas’ breath ghosted over his lips, and—
Jack’s voice cut through the moment. “What happened with the lights?”
The both pulled back, and Dean opened his eyes. Cas was still on the ground and his hands were still on Dean’s face, and for a second, they just stared.
“Don’t walk in, there’s glass,” Cas said, standing up. ““I wanted to try something new with my grace. It didn’t work out how I thought it would.”
That was an understatement, Dean thought. A rush of mortification went through him, knowing what Jack almost walked in on. He felt like a parent whose kid hadn’t yet learned to knock, and fought back a bark of laughter when he realized that that was exactly what had just happened. Somehow, without him ever noticing, Dean and Cas had started to raise a kid together. Cas was practically his—
Dean reeled himself in. He had only just told the guy I love you, and they hadn’t even kissed; he couldn’t get ahead of himself. Still, he couldn’t ignore the light that flickered on inside him at the thought. He braced his hands on the arms of the chair, and pushed himself up.
“I’ll go get a broom,” he announced.
“No, Dean, you’re still only wearing one shoe. Stay there.” Cas walked off towards the hallway closet, seemingly not wanting to use his grace again.
Dean looked down, his eyes having finally adjusted to the dark, and saw one socked foot staring back at him. He turned to Jack.
“So,” Dean began, clearing his throat. “How much—how much did you see?”
Jack was standing by the stairs, dressed in pajamas. He tilted his head in a perfect imitation of Cas.
“I saw that you and Cas were super close to each other. Why? Isn’t that normal for a couple?” Jack asked.
“A couple?” Dean echoed. “We—you thought—“ Dean didn’t know how to finish any of that. He didn’t know what he and Cas counted as.
“I’m back.” Cas was holding a broom in one hand, but he was holding it strangely. His hand wasn’t wrapped around it, more like his fingers were, as if it was a pencil. Dean realized that Cas—former angel of the lord, current angel of himself—had never used a broom before.
“Come here, I’ve got it,” Dean said. He beckoned Cas over and took the broom, and before Cas could back away, Dean pulled him in by his coat and kissed him. Only once, and chastely; his kid watching prevented anything more.
“Was that okay?” Dean asked.
Cas nodded.
They were still standing in the dark. Dean, and the family he had built around him. There were steps to come, with a floor filled with sharp objects being the most pressing concern. But for once in Dean’s life, there was nothing weighing him down.