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It’s been two days since the Winchesters cheated God. It’s been two days since they said goodbye to their surrogate son Jack, though they see him in every raindrop, dust mote, rock and sea, just as he had told them. For Dean though, it’s been two days since Cas was released from the Empty - except for his Grace.
As Jack vanished, Sam and Dean stood and surveyed a now bustling Main Street. Sam excused himself for a moment, with thinly veiled excitement and hope, to text Eileen. While Dean waited he leaned against the hood of the impala. It was almost perfect. Sure, they were free and they had saved the day, but Cas was not there to enjoy it.
Dean tried not to think about it too much. He knew if he did he would be unable to keep it together, he knew that the grief would turn into anger, which was never a good thing. The selfish part of him ruminated on the unfairness that so many could be brought back, except the one who made the biggest sacrifice.
He turned to see Sam, undoubtedly using Real Text-Time to speak with Eileen. Sam was smiling, bright and unworried and in a way Dean had not seen in at least a decade.
His eyes watered and he started to cry.
Too enraptured in his own thoughts and grief, Dean didn’t hear the footsteps approaching from behind him and toward the front of the car. This specific set of footsteps were quick and urgent, and behind them the trailing of a tan coat.
“Hello, Dean.”
He stopped.
He stared briefly at a set of too blue eyes, an unkempt tie, and a small chapped grin.
Then he ran to him.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” he said into the junction of Cas’ shoulder and neck. Tightening his fists into the coat so that he held on tightly, as if only he was able to keep him close enough then he would never leave.
They stayed there for several moments and yet probably a moment too long. When they separated Cas looked long at Dean, wondered where they stood, but found himself unable to find the words. He opened his mouth to say something, anything , but in true Dean fashion he had closed himself off.
“Let’s go home, man.” Dean said instead, giving Cas one final clap to the shoulder.
__
It had now been a week since they cheated God. Eileen was staying in the bunker until she and Sam figured out what they wanted to do next. It was not irregular to see them making breakfast in the morning together, organizing lore, or having calm conversations in the hall with ASL.
As for Cas and Dean, well - it was mostly back to normal. If only in the sense that they had no normal to begin with. Dean didn’t bring up Cas’ confession, and so neither did Cas. It was almost as if Dean had decided to pretend it hadn’t happened, perhaps in hope that things would go back to the way they were, but of course they couldn’t.
It was only a matter of time before Sam caught on.
He cornered Cas one day in the hall. “What’s going on with you and Dean?”
Cas squinted, “Did he not tell you?”
It was almost undoubted that Sam didn’t know how Cas felt, and it was for that reason that Cas didn’t understand why Dean didn’t tell him. Despite this, Sam’s face remained open and waiting - he really didn’t know.
“I made a deal with the Empty,” he began. “I could save Jack’s life for mine, but the Empty would only take me once I had felt ‘true happiness’.” He shrugged, “It’s a good deal when you’re not happy”
“But Dean said you summoned it while Death was after you - how is that happy?”
Cas smiled minutely, “I told Dean I loved him. Then the Empty came.”
“Oh.”
__
“Dean what is wrong with you? Get your head out of your ass, man” Sam asked several nights later, clearly frustrated.
Cas had been talking to Eileen, and though Dean’s ASL wasn’t great , he knew what gossip was when he saw it. The way Eileen would look at Sam for a moment, sign something energetically, and Cas would do the same only looking briefly in Dean’s direction. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. He knew how Cas felt, but the idea of anyone else left him feeling dirty. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t returned Cas’ sentiment yet, or perhaps if it was his upbringing.
Dean had promptly left the room, leaving Sam and Eileen to watch Cas’ shoulders drop in disappointment. Sam went after him seconds later.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Dean yelled - equally frustrated. “He’s my best friend, I can’t ruin that.”
Sam brought his hands to rub tiredly at his face, “Dean I know the way you look at him! You can’t - you can’t run from this! Cas doesn’t deserve that, and you know it.”
Dean slumped against the wall. The last several weeks had been kind to them, all things considered, and yet Sam could see now how tired he really was.
“I just don’t want to lose him again,” he admitted.
“You won’t,” Sam retorted.
“You don’t know that.”
__
Despite Dean’s earlier hesitation, Sam did notice a small improvement the following days. They were talking again and it didn’t seem stilted or awkward. Dean had also resumed his nightly - while they weren’t working a case - routine of showing Cas the best cinema that humanity had to offer. Sam and Eileen usually joined them, but tonight it was just him and Cas. At Cas’ request they were now on Pixar.
“Which one do you suggest Dean?” Cas had said one such night.
Dean gestured for Cas to make room for him on the couch. “Well, what do you want to watch?”
“Do you have a favorite?” Cas asked instead.
Dean thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Soul just came out though, you might like it.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” He asked, giving Dean one of his warm small smiles, the one that Dean now knows is for when Cas is feeling fond of him.
He had been getting a lot of those lately. As if after Cas’ confession he had allowed himself to fully look at Dean. There was no point in hiding his affections when they were already on his sleeve. Sometimes Dean found himself wanting to return it, but more often than not his throat closed up and he felt like fleeing.
Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, resituating himself on the couch.
__
Cas was officially human now, no bells or whistles to speak of. Dean had witnessed his struggles after he first fell, but Cas seemed different this time. He seemed content. Tonight he was wearing a pair of sweatpants Dean had given him after they first returned to the bunker, as well as several other articles of clothes. The sweatpants were black and Cas wore them with his white undershirt.
Dean was thinking these thoughts when he realized Cas had been silent for a while. He was usually an active talker during films.
He was asleep.
But now that Dean was looking at him he noticed that the warm weight he felt on his shoulder was not imagined, but in fact Cas resting his head. He watched, movie forgotten, as Cas breathed in and out very human breaths. His usually clean shaven face had darkened at his jaw with stubble, a little too long to be considered a five o’clock shadow anymore. The furrow that usually resided in his brow was vanquished and in its place smooth and calm features.
He was beautiful .
He was beautiful and Dean had fucked it up.
Dean looked now at his sleeping form, as Cas had likely done many times to him before, and let himself imagine what it would be like to be together. If they were together Dean would probably run his hands through Cas’ hair, maybe he would cup his jaw, place a kiss on the crown of his head. They weren’t together though, so Dean only let himself imagine.
Tearing his gaze away he focussed his attention back to the screen. The protagonist Joe is sitting at his piano and seeing all of these tiny and wonderful things that make life worth living. Nothing spectacular, nothing crazy.
Dean thinks at once about the small moments he has occasionally with Sam or Cas in the impala. He thinks about the way Sam tries to hold back laughter when Dean says something particularly (and often intentionally) dumb. He thinks about the cheap pie they buy after finishing a case to celebrate. He thinks about the mixtape he gave Cas, the feeling of handing it over and of their fingers brushing. He thinks about the way Cas squints his eyes when he’s confused and the way he rolls them when he’s trying to seem annoyed.
He remembers suddenly now Cas’ words:
“Happiness isn't in the having. It's in just being. It's in just saying it.”
How dumb he’s been, harboring these feelings and letting them stew and fester inside him. Pushing them down and far away doesn’t get rid of them, he knows now, they just get stronger.
He realizes now what he has to do, even if it doesn’t go the way he wants, even if it doesn’t last forever, even if it hurts him. Because he knows if he doesn’t he will not have lived fully, and worse than that Cas will never know. He just has to say it.
So Dean looks back at Cas, watches for a moment as the cool and warm tones of the film illuminate and dance on Cas’ face. He may not be an angel anymore, but he was certainly angelic.
Slowly and tentatively Dean raises his hand, raises it above Cas’ head, and finally - finally - lays it to run through Cas’ hair. It’s softer than Dean anticipated. And as he does so he feels Cas stir in his sleep and lean further into his palm.
After a moment, his eyes blink open and he pulls his head away from Dean’s shoulder. Dean decidedly doesn’t move his hand, and trails it to rest at the base of Cas’ neck and at the fine hairs behind his head.
“Dean?” Cas asks, clearly surprised.
Dean doesn’t answer though. Instead he brings his other hand to Cas’ face, traces first the top of his cheek and the shadows under his eyes, but eventually rests it at Cas’ jaw. He shivers for one brief second, but leans into Dean’s calloused palm and its warmth.
Dean draws his own face in now, eyes all steady determination and commitment. Cas doesn’t realize now just how close they are, but as he feels Dean’s soft breaths on the pads of his lips, he knows they’ve never been closer.
It’s Dean who makes the final move. He closes the distance and finds that Cas’ lips are soft and dry. He can faintly taste the coke Cas was drinking earlier, and he cannot help but hum. When they part it is only a brief second before Cas brings them back together. They have so much time to make up for, so many words to say, but the thought of not kissing Dean Winchester now, was excruciating. It’s Dean, however, that trails his lips from Cas’ to his neck. He kisses there for a moment and sighs into it, moves his hand to steady Cas as he moves to give Dean better access.
It’s when Cas lets out a quiet and instinctual sound at the back of his throat that Dean pulls off to examine his work - a pink mark is beginning to bloom on Cas’ neck. Eventually Dean has to lean back and breathe. Cas’ eyes remain locked on Dean’s lips and he watches intently as his own breath is mirrored, and he knows his lips also look bruised and damp.
Keeping one hand on Dean’s chest to steady himself, Cas asked quietly: “what changed?”
Dean can only shake his head for a moment. “Nothing. I’m so sorry . I’ve been so dumb.”
Cas brings a cool hand to Dean’s jaw, “Then what changed? I can’t-” he stammered, “I don’t think I could handle it if you backed away now.”
“No, no, I’m not backing away,” he says hurriedly. “I was just looking at you and I realized how beautiful you were, and how-” he pauses.
Cas looks at him patiently.
“And how I wanted to touch you, and be with you. I- I love you so much, Cas. I’m sorry it's taken me so long.”
Cas smiles now, full and wide, and says “I would wait forever for you, Dean.”
When he brings them back together, Cas can feel Dean also smiling.