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The ride home from the barn that night was almost completely silent. Sure, tunes mumbled from the radio but Dean barely processed anything but the rev of the engine and sound of tires on asphalt.
He was hyper aware of Cas in the back seat. The angel never made much noise. Kept to himself and just looked out the window. Never said anything about the music choice, unlike Sam. He wasn’t always one for conversation. But when Dean would peer back in the rear view mirror sometimes he’d catch Cas bopping his head along to a favorite song of his, or smile to himself at something one of the brothers said. Sometimes Cas’ eye would catch Dean’s for a moment in the mirror and the angel would be the first to look away.
When Cas had his wings, popping in the impala beside Dean was some of the most personal time the two of them would share. Still near strangers at some points, but closer each time. Dean opening up in ways he’d only ever done with his closest kin. Cas opening up in ways Dean came to gather the angel hadn’t ever done with anyone at all.
The hum of the radio and sound of pavement in each other’s presence was something they’d shared for a long time. There was no awkward in the silence. It was comfortable. Normal. It meant something else unsaid that neither would ever share with the other, but both could feel was there.
Dean couldn’t get the image out of his mind. Cas bloodied, broken, black acid threading through his veins and slowly swallowing him whole.
He was this close.
They’d lost Cas before. A few times. Dean knew the angel wasn’t nearly as invincible as he’d once seen him. Every time he was reminded of that fact, it hurt a little more than the last.
Everything that happened to Cas was on Dean. He knew it didn’t make sense to put that on his own shoulders but he did it anyway.
The guy rebelled against heaven for Dean. He died for Dean- twice. He tried to do the right thing because that’s what Dean taught him to do. And it hurt him nearly every time he did.
He gave the angel on his shoulder a conscience, and now it was gonna be Dean’s fault if it got him killed.
But it was more than that. It had been more than that for a long time. Cas was family. And Dean didn’t use that word lightly. Cas was important.
He was a little worried sometimes that Cas didn’t seem to get that. Or maybe he’d just learned his self-worth from Dean too, and didn’t see that the people he cared for so damn much also gave a crap about him.
No one said a word when they got back to the bunker, either. The echo of their footsteps entering the empty hall, deafening. They were drained. Sam mumbled a goodnight and headed straight to his room. Mom didn’t show, she probably wouldn’t either.
Dean beelined for the kitchen, and didn’t realize Cas was right behind him until he’d cracked open a beer and took a sip, the cool air of the fridge seeping up the back of his shirt.
Cas stood on the other side of the counter, picking at the bloodied ends of his sleeves. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Dean snagged another beer from the fridge, opened it, and slid it across the counter.
Cas nodded a thanks, taking a sip.
“I know you don’t sleep but, uh, might wanna at least take the night, get a load off. Have a binge sesh.”
“I really should continue my search for Kelly.” Cas inspected the label on the beer before finally meeting Dean’s eye.
“Dude, you nearly bit it. Take the night.” Dean took another swig. “And a shower. You look like hell.”
Cas half-smiled, and nodded, setting the beer back on the counter. “I suppose you’re right. You might take your own advice as well.”
“Ah, you know me, that’s not my style.”
Cas smiled, and nodded, “Goodnight, Dean.”
“Goodnight, Cas.”
The angel left his beer half finished, and Dean swallowed the last of his own before snagging the other from the counter and polishing off what he’d left. He quickly peered around the room, realizing what he’d done without any hesitation at all, and hoped no one else had seen. Not that it mattered. Why would it matter to either of the other men in the bunker? That was a Dean thing to do, finish someone else’s drink. He took Sam’s beers all the time.
It felt different with Cas and he knew why, but he just wasn’t ready to have that conversation with himself.
Dean grabbed another couple of bottles from the fridge and made his way to his room. He wouldn’t be able to sleep much tonight, but he’d decided sometime along the ride back what he was gonna do with that time. All the supplies were waiting in a box shoved in the bottom of his closet with the rest of his small amount of belongings he’d lugged with him since he was a kid.
It had been awhile since Dean had made a mixtape. Years. He used to fill them with some of his favorite songs, or Sam’s, or his dad’s. He’d never made one specifically for another person, though. The others were just something he’d quietly make and put in the stereo to bring Sam out of a mood or chill dad out. Never talking about it.
And making something for his family was more about keeping the peace than anything else. Those were their songs. This one would be just Dean’s. He’d be putting more of himself into this than he ever had for a gift. He cracked open and took a swig from the next beer.
Cas probably wouldn’t even know how intimate it was. Part of Dean hoped he wouldn’t. At least not all the way. So he got started before he could even consider talking himself out of it.
The tracks were floating around in his head already. He knew exactly which to start with, which to flow to the next, and exactly how many. Only the best ones.
When he was done he took a pen and scrawled on the side: “Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx”
Castiel wouldn’t know the significance of Zeppelin and romance in his life. And Dean wasn’t sure if he’d even be brave enough to give this to him if he would. But Cas nearly died again, telling the Winchesters how he loved them, and Dean couldn’t even bring himself to say anything back. If he had, that would’ve been admitting that Cas was really about to die. So he let the moment pass. And wished he hadn’t. But with the adrenaline gone and the real world stifling him from all sides, he still couldn’t bring himself to say anything out loud.
But he did love Cas. Dean just wasn’t good at this. He never had been. He was still a coward for not saying it to him, but it meant something else to Cas anyways. Cas loved them all like his family, which they were. Dean just loved him more than that. He hoped even a fraction of that would translate into this gift.
It was by the bottom of the bottle of his fourth beer that Dean was on his feet again. And he was outside of Castiel’s door. A tv mumbled softly from the other side. Dean knocked.
“Yes?”
Dean could hear the bed softly creak as Cas shifted his weight on the mattress on the other side of the door, and Dean let himself in, poking his head through first with a dopey smile that he knew he reserved for when he was uncomfortable but still wasn’t able to stop himself from doing it.
“Hey, Cas.” He closed the door behind him and shifted from foot to foot.
“Hello, Dean. Something going on?” Cas tilted his head, furrowing his brow in that usual Cas fashion.
“Nah, just, uh- here,” Dean took a step, and outstretched the hand holding the mixtape, “Thought you could use some tunes for the road, if you’re gonna be out there hittin the pavement for the girl.”
Cas eyed Dean curiously, but took the tape and read the side, “top thirteen Zepp tracks?”
Dean shrugged, “Zeppelin. Ya know, Led Zeppelin. The band.”
Cas nodded, getting it, “Right, I am familiar. You do tend to announce facts regarding songs on the radio very often when you seem to want me or Sam to share in your passion. This does tend to be a band you frequently comment on.”
“Oh, right, yeah well you’ve gotta have a well rounded musical education around here. Better than that poppy crap you’ve been listening to.”
Cas frowned at that comment but drew his gaze back down to the tape. Dean realized that maybe came out a bit more bristly than he meant, and backtracked, “I mean, it’s fine. Not my style, but hey. Zeppelin just kind of means something in the family so.. just.. uh, yeah.”
“Thank you, Dean.” Cas looked at him with that typical head tilt smirk and kind eyes that really showed the depth of the angel’s appreciation for the gift.
The moment passed with them just locking eyes for a minute. The one where Cas would read Dean in a way that no one else ever did, and somehow it had become a language of theirs over the years. Neither would ever acknowledge it but it was always there.
Dean not always good with his words, and Cas always somehow able to find them anyway just in the silence of Dean’s face. And he understood, at least to an extent. Cas always understood more than he let on.
Just like then how Dean might’ve been trying to brush off that this was just a gift and not a big deal. Cas got that it was Dean’s way of showing that he cared. Because Dean couldn’t find the words right now. And Cas had almost died. And like always, that affected Dean more than any other Winchester. It always would.
Cas couldn’t know just how much Dean really cared, though. How he cared. But he’d know that this was his best way of showing at least a piece of it.
It was odd, really, how Cas could always seem to understand Dean without Dean actually ever saying anything. They’d trade looks and just understand the shorthand of what it meant. It was an easy thing. Automatic.
Maybe it had been all that time in the beginning as a clueless angel, not understanding that it wasn’t customary to stare at someone for such an extended amount of time... it was awkward, even. Until it just became so automatic with the two of them that it was odd when Cas wouldn’t meet Dean’s eye.
They didn’t always have to put the words out there. It was in both of their personalities not to accept that type of love very easily anyways. It was too much. It didn’t feel deserved.
So they left it unsaid because if they let it be said then maybe this whole thing would just fall apart. Dean cared too much. Cas cared too much. But somehow, tonight, with Cas telling the Winchesters he loved them all, it shifted a little something, and opened the possibility of them bringing whatever this was into words. Just not yet. Not tonight.
“Yeah, well,” Dean shuffled, breaking away from Cas’ eyes, “Just don’t get dead out there, man.”
“Of course.” Cas nodded, as though it was the easiest thing in the world to promise.
Cas stood then, and moved to put the cassette on his desk. The desk with nothing on it. The empty room with nothing of Cas’ to show he ever lived there aside from the small tv that Dean had brought home for him one day when the angel had spent over a week sitting in Sam’s room staring at his.
And Dean chose to take that moment. Cas placed the mixtape squarely on the desk corner and turned back to the door. Dean closed the distance between them before he could think about it, and pulled Cas into a bearhug.
Cas had the trenchcoat lazily placed over the desk chair, and only wore his white button down. None of the blood or black goo remained, to which Dean was grateful. He couldn’t have that extra reminder right now of just how close Cas was to slipping from his grasp.
He held Cas more desperately than he ever had before, burying his face in the angel’s shoulder. He gave himself just this moment.
Dean could feel Cas’ shoulder blades tense under his own fingertips and almost let go before Cas returned the hug, fingertips clinging as desperately to the back of Dean’s shirt, gripping the fabric in his fists.
They stood there wordlessly for some time, holding on, breathing deep into the other’s skin. But finally, Dean knew he had to let go. With one last tight squeeze he started to back off, and Cas let go immediately in response.
Their eyes met in the middle as they parted, glossy. Neither would comment. Neither would acknowledge. They just passed a pained look between the both of them, something left unsaid. Until Dean nodded and peeled his eyes away, plastering on a smile.
“Okay. Goodnight, Cas.” He patted Cas’ shoulder.
“Goodnight, Dean.”