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"Dean, stop!" Cas yelled abruptly, the sudden gruff of his voice after hours of silence making Dean jolt up with a curse, fighting to regain control of the steering wheel.
"Son of a-!" Dean growled as he pressed tensely against the brake, pulling off to the side of the road with hard eyes and gnarled lips.
His hands trembled when he tore them off the wheel, eyebrows drawn into a confused furrow as he stared at Cas across the seat.
"What the hell, Cas?” He said, throwing the Impala into park more aggressively than he needed to.
The angel blinked at him, blue eyes wide and blank in that stupidly oblivious way of his that made Dean irritated faster than anything else. It was like pulling teeth trying to get Castiel to understand human etiquette, common sense- even now, years after the Apocalypse. But that look on Cas’s face, that mixture of confusion and twinkling innocence often thrown in with a soft head tilt always made Dean a little helpless too.
It made him want to teach Cas. Guide him through whatever it is he needed, whatever he didn’t understand. It’s a weakness Dean’s always had, a need to pull Cas around by the hand and show him humanity in the form of shitty motel swimming pools and homemade onion rings. Anything, really. Anything that would make sure Cas knew that there’s more to life than Heaven and Hell and all the fire trapped somewhere in the middle.
Castiel looked at Dean from the passenger seat, but didn't speak. He simply trailed his eyes over Dean’s face like he couldn’t quite comprehend the tension there, why his features always resorted to anger before anything else.
The silence made Dean’s throat itch. He awkwardly scratched at the back of his neck.
“You, uh… wanna explain to me why you almost sent us crashing over the side of I-70, Thelma?”
Dean would’ve found it endearing how Cas managed to look even more confused in that moment, but he was far too busy being disappointed.
“Come on, man,” He groaned, dragging a hand over his sleep-desperate eyes. “You’re tellin’ me you still haven’t seen that movie? Thelma and Louise? Everyone’s go-to badass lesbians?”
“Are lesbians inherently badass?” Castiel looked genuinely intrigued, convinced Dean knew something he didn’t.
“Damn right they are,” Dean said, “just wait till’ you meet Charlie. You two will get along great.”
It wasn’t the first time Dean had mentioned Charlie, but her existence always seemed to shock something in Cas. Alert him to a realization he couldn’t quite get a grip on yet. Dean usually never asked him about it, but now, parked together somewhere at the edge of Colorado with only headlights leading the way back home, Dean felt oddly brave.
Stupid too, probably. Reckless in a way that he never fucking was, but, brave all the same.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?” Cas paused, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Do what?”
“That,” Dean said pointedly, waving a hand towards the angel matter of factly. “Get all uptight and weird everytime I mention Charlie.” And then it occurred to Dean, like a fucking hammer crashing into the side of his head, that Castiel was more than just his best friend. More than the celestial being who had saved him from damnation and given up his own world just to join Dean’s.
He was a goddamn angel for fuck’s sake. With wings and a harp- the whole get up, and he was holy. He was divine, no matter how much his tax accountant vessel liked to convince Dean otherwise.
They had never talked about it. Not once, not even a little. But Dean… well, Dean had just assumed-
“Does it bother you that she’s…” Dean could hardly recognize his own voice with the ringing in his ears, blood suddenly running thick and hot through the pulse in his neck. “That she’s gay?”
To Dean’s relief, Cas at least had the decency to look appalled by the question. Dean could see his shoulders flinch even from beneath the thickness of his coat, the skin around his eyes wrinkling with shame. Cas even looked a little hurt, brows furrowed into this puppy eyed expression that had Dean releasing a stilted breath.
“Of course not,” Cas said thickly, voice drawled with horror. Just the absurdity in his words made Dean smile, his heart settling back where it belonged. “I, along with the rest of Heaven have no aversion towards homosexuality. God intended for there to be all forms of love.”
Dean hadn’t meant for this conversation to get personal. Hell, he hadn’t meant for this conversation period, but Cas’s words brushed a part of him that reached out in response, ached for more reassurance. Dean huffed out a laugh to hide the fact that he suddenly felt like he was choking, throat tight, eyes glassy.
God, what a seventeen year old Dean Winchester would have given to have an angel sit him down and tell him that what he was feeling, who he was, wasn’t a sin after all.
Dean tapped his knuckles against the steering wheel, searching for some semblance of steady ground. “Well, someone sure screwed the pooch on that one.”
“I get surprised by how you talk about her,” Castiel looks almost completely unaware when he smiles. He always has. Dean knew this, but it still rattled him to his very core to watch as Cas’s face bloomed with light, this otherworldly awe that only seemed to appear when he was talking to Dean. “You care very deeply for her, and I admire that.”
Dean didn’t understand. “Why?”
“Like you said,” Cas fixed him with a knowing look. “There are some people who wouldn’t see Charlie like you do. They would view her as something less, something not meant to exist. But not you.” He shook his head and averted his eyes, quickly. It was disappointing at first, but Dean soon became thankful that Cas wasn’t looking right at him when he said, “you have this ability to make people feel loved, Dean. It’s rather extraordinary.”
Because Dean thinks he probably would have given himself away right then and there. His whole body froze as if struck cold, frosted still, but in reality his insides were being swarmed with warmth, consumed by flames. Dean’s heart became a relentless patter that made his stomach swoon, and it was impossible not to think that it was all in the eyes.
If Cas would have just turned, looked, then he would have seen how fucking in love Dean was. How enamoured, and maybe he would have even realized that it had been that way for years. Ever since Castiel laid a hand on him in hell, restoring Dean from nothing but a few burnt out nerves and strips of flesh into something whole and real and capable of feeling so goddamn much. Too goddamn much, if you asked Dean.
But Cas didn’t turn, and he didn’t see, and Dean was left staring at his retreating back as the angel opened the car door and stepped outside without a word.
Vaguely, Dean could hear music playing through the dashboard, a cassette tape still lodged into the deck. The volume was low, barely there. So quiet in fact that Dean couldn’t even tell what was playing, but he clung to it anyway. Let it wash some sense of normalcy over him while he caught his breath.
In the moment, Dean was too flustered to care all that much about what Cas was doing, why he had almost made Dean crash into a damn traffic barrier for no apparent reason. But once a few minutes passed just like that, Cas standing outside, motionless, Dean in the Impala, dazed and confused, Dean’s desire to get the hell home was suddenly upfront and all bearing.
“Fuck’s sake…” Dean grumbled, squinting through the front windshield to stare at Cas who, unsurprisingly, remained unmoved.
He was just… standing there. Strong and ever unbreakable even as the wind tore at the lapels of his coat, sent his hair spirling into wild tufts that circled his head, tickled his ears.
He looked otherworldly, paying no mind to the chaos around him, and it was times like these that it was almost impossible for Dean to get his mind around the fact that this was his friend. This alien being that was strung together with grace and essence who could burn down cities, rip apart demons with a single touch, was the same Cas who Dean let ride shotgun.
He was the same Cas who spoke about the science of air balloons and microwavable meals as though he were talking about seeing stars implode. The same Cas who watched over Dean as he slept and rushed to the store to get pie if he saw the slightest frown on Dean’s face, the slightest indication of distress. The same Cas who disobeyed Heaven just to fight alongside him, who spent a year in Purgatory leading the Leviathans away just so that Dean could have a chance at living, at getting out.
He was Castiel. An angel, a warrior of Heaven and defender of Earth, but he was also the guy who accepted Dean at his weakest. Who took Dean and saw the brokenness, saw the hard-headed alcoholic asshole that he was, and still decided that that weakness didn’t stop him from seeing the good parts too.
It maybe even made him love Dean more.
Dean got out of the car with his expression wiped clean, gaze steady even when his heartbeat said otherwise. He was careful as he walked over the light layer of snow that had made its way to the ground over the last few minutes, moving across the Impala to stand by his friend.
Dean forced his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his flipped up collar barely concealing him from the cold.
"You havin’ a moment? Need me to come back later?" Dean tried uselessly, but he fell silent when his eyes drifted over to catch Cas’s gaze, finding his attention drawn to the light sprinkle of snow drifting down from the sky.
Dean watched him wordlessly, lips parting in awe at Cas's expression. It wasn’t everyday that Dean, now almost thirty-four years old, got to witness someone experience something as mundane as snow for the first time. And as someone who already struggled with keeping their eyes off of Cas, this was just downright humiliating, but Dean was almost at the point of not caring anymore.
Beautiful. This angel, this… man, was beautiful.
Castiel stared up at the sky boldly, unblinking even when the snowflakes reached the skin of his face, touching down on tanned wrinkles and dark stubble. The blue of his eyes was brighter than Dean had ever seen, different from how it looked powered with grace, ripped apart with light. This blue was all emotion. No pain, no anger, the color framed with long lashes sprinkled with ice.
Dean felt a familiar tug in his heart the moment he realized he was staring, and he cleared his throat absentmindedly, face flushing despite the cold.
"This is what you call snow, correct?" Cas asked, but his voice seemed far away and unbelievably distant, his focus still trained on the sky.
“This is why we stopped?” Dean grunted out, but his face took a softer shape when he saw the way Castiel was looking at him; quiet and thoughtful, hoping Dean would understand.
He did.
"Uh, yeah," Dean said, clearing his throat. He tipped his head up to the sky, gesturing widely. "Yeah, it's… it's snow- have you never-" Dean started, but he was quickly interrupted by a quiet, “no” that came from deep within Cas’s chest, his mouth twisting into a frown.
"I've witnessed it, yes. From Heaven when observing the humans but… to feel it," He explained peacefully, his mouth quirking into the beginnings of a rare smile that made Dean want to grin right back. "This is exceptionally pleasing." He remarked, and suddenly he was moving, his body shifting towards Dean naturally.
Their eyes met, soft and meaningful, lingering in that god awful way it nearly always did. They were standing too close. That much was obvious, their chests nearly brushing, Dean’s boots just a breath away from Cas’s dress shoes.
Most people would think Dean would have gotten used to this overtime; Cas’s general lack of understanding when it came to giving Dean his personal space, but that was just it. It only seemed to happen with Dean.
Cas was a big boy, he’d been in the game for years now. Sure, he still needed to work on grasping sarcasm and how to keep a conversation going, but other than that he was golden. Practically human. He stayed a perfectly acceptable distance from Sam when the three of them were scrounging through lore, knew well enough not to breathe down the neck of every witness they interviewed during a hunt, but when it came to Dean it was almost like those formalities were lost in the wind.
Dean didn’t know what to make of it, but it did make him nervous. Made him stand there and look at Cas with wide eyes, unable to move, not wanting to move. He exhaled shakily, a puff of white air escaping his lips to brush Cas's face, making his eyelids flutter in a way that even the snow hadn’t been able to do.
He smiled at Dean then, a wide gummy smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes and showed off white teeth. He seemed to lose himself somewhere in that smile. Seemed to forget about the sheer power held just at the breach of his fingertips, and instead relaxed into this version of Castiel that Dean thinks he likes the most.
Gentle and warm, doe eyed and sweet. Decidedly human enough for Dean, but just a little more badass. Perfect.
The desire to kiss Cas is almost crippling.
It's an impulse that's always been there, buried back behind Dean’s rib cage where he could feel it rattle every time he breathed, begging to be let out. To be acknowledged and accepted, but fear of rejection tended to pump the brakes more often than not. The possibility that Cas being an angel restricted him from feeling anything like how Dean felt was all too real, and it had stopped Dean dead in his tracks time and time again.
But the urge was unusually strong this time, pounding away in his ears. Dean’s eyes softened when they landed on Castiel’s lips, watching his breath fan out over pink skin, studying the flash of tongue and teeth when he wetted them.
Dean's knees twitched, his feet shifting slightly forward, and then suddenly Cas was gone, a gentle flutter of wings the only indication that he was ever there. And Dean, the poor bastard, was almost relieved. He’d been close to doing what he couldn’t, what he’d never been able to do, and maybe this was a sign.
The sky melted around him, gentle flurries of snow dancing across Dean’s shoulders and down his cheeks. He didn't want to get back in the car without Cas there, but Dean never had it in him to ask the angel to endure road trips when they both knew Cas could just fly. Still though, similar to tonight where Cas had appeared beside Dean without warning, sometimes Dean didn’t have to ask. Cas just went with him anyway, somehow always aware of when Dean was alone and wishing for company.
It wasn’t uncommon for Cas to leave out of nowhere. No explanation, no warning just- gone. But having Cas disappear on him right then, in that moment, when he’d been teetering on the edge of something dangerous, had Dean taking every single one of his feelings and guarding them back towards his chest.
Again and again, this happened. It was a never ending cycle.
Dean turned to walk back to the driver’s side, fully intending to haul ass back to the bunker and drink a few too many beers to fall asleep, but stopped dead when he heard the Impala groan painfully under a sudden weight. With a jerk of his head, Cas came back into view, his body outstretched across the hood and the front windshield in a manner that would have been sexy had it been demonstrated on any other car.
Dean tensed with anger instantly, mouth pulled into a snarl.
"Cas! What the fuck- get off her!" Dean yelled furiously, hands moving forward to wrap around Cas’s ankles and yank him roughly, but he faltered at the last second and watched a flash of panic spring across Cas’s eyes before a nose bumped softly against his.
Dean froze, hands falling uselessly to his sides. There was a heartbeat in his throat suddenly, a broiling singe in his cheeks. Cas stared at Dean curiously, almost like they weren’t nose to nose, breathing each other’s air. His gaze flickered between Dean’s features aimlessly, blue meeting green in a heated look that seemed to stretch for eternity.
Then, almost tactical, Cas let out a breath, and the warmth of it fanned out across Dean's lips, leaving the skin warm and buzzing, his heart stuttering in place.
Dean needed to move away. He could feel how desperate he was to curl his hands into the front of Cas’s coat, his lips dying to touch and taste and claim- finally. But the strength that would take was unimaginable. Dean wanted to kiss him, to make the stupid mistake of guiding Cas to his mouth and pressing him down against his car. He’d push Cas’s shirt up and find warm skin underneath, body sensitive enough to have him shivering just from Dean’s hands alone.
Dean couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t scared. That he didn’t have every reason in the world to believe that Cas would be ripped away from him the second they even tried, the moment they allowed themselves to give. But Dean had wasted away too much of his life to let things like this go anymore. To let people go, and maybe it made Dean the biggest dumbass to ever exist, but he still wanted to try.
Dean’s eyes flickered back and forth between Cas’s before the angel finally turned away, a faint smile playing across his plump lips.
“What're you grinning at, asshole?" Dean blurted, both defensive and amused, breaking out into a toothy smile before he could help it.
It calmed his nerves a little, to smile so genuinely. But the way Cas looked at him, watching carefully as lines formed in Dean’s cheeks, eyes wrinkling around the corners, had heat crawling up Dean’s ears.
“Your sentiments towards your car are rather funny.”
“Yeah? Well fuck you.” Dean said, noticing Cas’s smile and shaking his head in response.
“I'm going to continue sitting on your car now." Cas announced slowly, voice plain and dry, and a panicked laugh bubbled up from Dean's chest at the sight of Cas crawling back up the hood.
“Cas,” Dean grimaced. “I uh- I don't think that's a good idea." He managed to mutter, his stomach swooping with dread as the hood popped and groaned.
“It should be perfectly capable of holding our weight. I’ve seen you and Sam do the same,” He insisted, and then, giving Dean an adorably reassuring smile and an outreached hand, he said, “I saw this in a movie once."
Dean scoffed at him, shocked by his confidence. “So you do have cable. The problem is your taste in movies is crap.”
Cas rolled his eyes. “I got my taste from you, Dean.”
Dean didn’t even have the time to splutter or trample his way through that conversation before Cas was moving on his own, grabbing Dean’s hand tightly.
Dean felt a tick in his jaw and looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes and finding nothing but hope and adoration, his eyebrows drawn in calming patience. He looked like he was waiting for something, for Dean, and if there was ever a time that Dean recognized what it looked like to have the ball on his side of the court, this was it.
His entire body softened, lungs giving in, and he squeezed the angel’s hand. Castiel lit up at Dean's acceptance, cheeks flushing red, and Dean smiled fondly as he was helped up and onto the car, the lingering warmth of Cas’s hands suddenly more exciting than terrifying.
After some awkward scrambling and grumbled curses, Dean managed to get somewhat comfortable, most of his anxiety coming from the fact that he was sitting on his dead dad’s car three years older and twenty pounds heavier than the last time he’d tried, rather than that Cas was right behind him, staring so intently that Dean could feel the heat of it boring into the back of his neck.
It was overwhelming. Too much and not enough at the same time, and Dean felt like it wasn’t something he could face head on.
“I think you would be more comfortable if you..." Cas muttered shakily, voice trailing off as he placed a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder.
He didn’t miss the way Dean flinched.
“What? You mean lay down?” Dean mumbled roughly, body turning to look at Cas in question, an eyebrow rising as his voice fell away.
"Yes, I believe that would be best." Cas gave a small smile, but when Dean tried to smile back, his mouth pulled into a grimace that left Castiel frowning. Cas pulled his hands back when Dean began to lay down, eyes widening with sudden doubt. "Dean, I-"
His throat clamped up when Dean did as he was told, laying all the way back to rest his head on Cas’s lap. Dean took a deep breath, coughed up a laugh that sounded more like choking than anything, and looked up at Cas to already find the angel staring down at him, his lips parted and waiting.
"If you don't want to… you shouldn't feel obligated to, Dean." Cas tried to remain distant, unaffected, but his voice came out broken and weak, his biggest fear unfolding right in front of him. Dean stiffened with confusion, heart leaping when he caught Cas's eyes and saw barely concealed tears. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought..."
Cas was falling. Dean could see that now, all of that confidence from before, all of that forced serenity and understanding was dripping away like wet paint, a false mask. He was just as afraid as Dean, troubled by where they stood; this strange inbetween of friendship and love that neither of them knew how to navigate, and for Dean that was all he needed to reach up and take Cas’s hand.
"Wait, you think...?” He searched Cas’s eyes, sadness punching him right in the chest. He let out a tearful breath. “Fuck, Cas, you got it all wrong, I’m not uncomfortable. With this, or- or with you. Not at all.” Dean assured quickly, eyes wide and hurt, watching Cas’s vulnerability tilt on a balance beam of uncertainty.
He squeezed Cas's hand, willing the other to look at him, but the angel’s eyes remained elsewhere, refusing to turn back to Dean.
Dean sighed, releasing his hand. "Cas, buddy. Hey, come on- don’t be like that.”
“Like what, Dean?” His gaze was cold by the time he focused back on Dean. Even when looking at him from upside down Dean could tell how fragile Cas was in that moment, barely hanging on. “I don’t want you to make a joke of my advances.”
“Advances?” Dean repeated incredulously, his heart all but ripping through his chest. He waited for Cas to take his words back, claim he’d misspoken, but nothing came of it. He laughed nervously, frantic, “damn, you’re really not kiddin’ huh?”
“Forget it,” Cas pushed at Dean’s shoulder, urging him to move. “I knew this would be a mistake. I never should have-”
“Goddamnit- Cas,” Dean grabbed for his wrist, smiling all big and goofy and confusing Cas even more, his brow dipping further. “How many times do I have to say it? It’s okay.”
“What’s okay?”
“This,” He took Cas’s hand again, and guided him until he was cradling Dean’s face, trapping in the man’s heated blush with his palm. “All of it. Everything.”
The snow had already begun to let up, but the wind that carried the specs of white was still cold and unforgiving, burying itself into Cas's hair and pushing it in all directions, the absurdity of it making Dean laugh even more than the look on Cas’s face.
Absolute disbelief.
“You…” Cas swallowed, the corner of his mouth pitching upwards. “You mean-”
"You know, man, you could probably use a haircut." Dean said offhandedly, ignoring Cas’s pout with a cheesing grin.
He let go of Cas's hand to take a tuft of his dark hair between two fingers, watching the strands curl around his skin when the wind took control again.
“Oh, yes, well,” Cas blew through a laugh, awkward as usual, dry with the delivery, but fuck if it didn’t make Dean smile. “I uh, I think it would be quite handy if I had a... lover to cut it for me.” Cas explained thoughtfully, head tilting to the side like a puppy, giving Dean a look that asked you get it?
And Dean just looked at him, and looked at him, half a second away from a heart attack with his brain fried and his soul rocket launched into outer space. He couldn’t even fucking breathe, too shocked to form a single thought, but when it registered it burned, beautifully and brilliantly right in the center of Dean’s chest, and he laughed before anything else. Deep rumbles of happiness that he hadn’t heard himself make in a very long time.
Cas watched with soft eyes as Dean laughed, the act feeling so unfortunately rare yet special because it was all for Cas, because of Cas and his adorable innocence and blue eyes and wild hair. Because Cas had confessed his feelings for Dean through a goddamn joke like something straight out of a chick flick, and for once, Dean didn’t mind the idea of him being the lead girl as long as it was Cas who was sweeping him off his feet.
Dean held his stomach desperately, trying to compose himself through gulps of air, but it was Cas reaching forward and carefully running his fingers through his hair that finally made Dean stop. It was almost funny how his laughter turned into dead silence, the situation much less amusing now that Cas was actually putting his words to use, touching Dean in a way that was unmistakably intimate.
All of Dean’s attention fell to his racing heart then, the drag of Cas's fingers over his scalp, down the back of his neck where he made Dean shiver and blush like a goddamn virgin. Cas was so gentle with it, with all of it. He touched Dean with a fondness that was unmatched, thought to be impossible.
Dean had never felt anything like it.
“That was pretty smooth, Cas,” He smiled, and Dean wondered if Cas could pick it out now. The warmth in his voice, how every part of him ached in moments like these when it was just the two of them. “You know, for an angel.”
He looked up at Cas from where his head was still pillowed in his lap, trying to catch his eye, but instead Dean saw the caring focus that had overtaken his entire being as he caressed Dean, a small permanent smile pushing the corner of his mouth upward. He looked completely at peace, just being able to sit there and stroke Dean’s hair, brush cold fingers over the redness at the tips of his ears.
Warmth pulsed through Dean, persistent and unbelievably hot, and more than anything he wanted to kiss Cas; to finally feel the softness of his mouth and strength behind his hands, to stop dreaming and start living. Small specs of white stood out against his dark hair like stars, his touch consuming and eyes electric when they noticed Dean’s stare, met it willingly.
And finally Dean reached up, hand gripping his tie with determined strength, and even when his heart ignited with fire and the smoke inside him bellowed and burned, threatening to consume him and drown him all over again, he pulled Cas down, and kissed him.
A million sensations, a thousand emotions erupting all at once. The scratch of Cas's scruff against his nose, the soft brush of his lips and tongue that was almost mind-numbing enough for Dean not to notice the gentle brush of Cas’s thumbs against his cheeks, as though he was trying to memorize every dip and curve and freckle that made up Dean.
The kiss wasn’t what Dean had always imagined it would be. It wasn’t dirty and rough, wielded together by desperation and demanding hands that pulled at clothes and searched for skin. This kiss was even better, their lips meeting in slow perfection of nervous breaths and gentle touches that made Dean miss it gravely once it was over.
Dean opened his eyes as Cas pulled back to look at him, and they both shared matching smiles, shyness creeping up rather than doubt. The snow had stopped and the sky had lightened, the dark gray night blurring into a gentle orange that seemed to start at the very edge of the world, though Dean doesn’t think either of them noticed.
"You see that in a movie once, too?" Dean asked dazedly, grinning like a mad man with tears in his eyes, and Cas leaned in once more.
“Yes, though I think I’m in need of more practice.” He admitted, smiling now because he knew what he was doing, how crazy this all was and how there wasn’t a chance in the world that Dean would deny him anything.
Dean laughed into the curve of Cas’s cheek, drawing him closer by slinging an arm around the back of his neck. It was bizarre how easy it was for him to accept this, fall into this dream come true as though he’d been living his truth since day one, but Dean took it in stride.
He kissed Cas’s cheek because he wanted to. Watched the way it made the angel smile all handsome and gummy because he wanted to, and no one could take that away from him.
“Practice?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively enough for even Cas to understand. “We can practice all you want, sweetheart. Cause’ believe me, there are some things you just can’t learn from a movie.”