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11 P.M.
Sam sighs, watching the popcorn silently make circles in the microwave. It's been a minute and a half, and the blue bag shows no signs of stirring. He briefly wonders if Cas could use his magic angel powers to make the popcorn pop - no. The angel's grace is fading. Hell, he's even started sleeping, and popping popcorn for their movie night is likely not high on Castiel's list.
Tonight, they're supposed to be watching the original Romeo and Juliet, the one with Leonardo di Caprio, who Cas has taken a liking to. Sam can't help but feel a twinge of teenage jealousy, but it's overshadowed by the affection that drowns his brain in oxytocin.
"Sam." Cas appears in the doorway to the kitchen, Sam's sweatpants swallowing him whole and a soft grey v-neck exposing a hint of his sharp collarbones. "Where's the popcorn?"
Sam laughs, half at how cute Cas looks in Sam's clothes and half at the concern Cas seems to have over the issue of popcorn.
"It's not ready yet. I think this microwave is broken, the bag's not even warm." Sam tells him, turning around to get the bag out of the microwave and bouncing it in his hand experimentally.
Cas walks closer, squinting at the offending bag. Before Sam can protest, he takes it gently out of Sam's hand, closing his eyes and letting his fingers curl around it loosely. Sam watches in amazement, as he is always amazed by the angel's powers, as Cas's hand glows light blue (nearly identical to the color of his eyes) and the kitchen almost immediately fills with the sound and smell of fresh popcorn, the bag expanding three times its original size in Castiel's hand.
"Cas-" Sam takes the bag from him and stares at it. "Uh, thanks."
"That is what you wanted, correct?" Cas looks concerned, and his consequential head tilt makes Sam smile.
"Yeah, Cas. Thanks." Sam opens the bag, pouring it cautiously into a bowl and sprinkling salt on it, aware of Cas hovering at his shoulder, watching.
"You ready?" Sam asks, and they make their way to the movie room.
It's dark, the projector in the back providing the only source of light once the doors close. There's a projector screen slung up on the opposite side of the room, grainy video of di Caprio in a suit, Claire Danes with angel wings attached to her back, a brief clip of a funeral. The multiple old traditional movie seats are long gone, replaced with a leather couch and two armchairs in the middle of the room. Sam always feels like he should volunteer to take an armchair, but the first time they did this Cas sat down on the couch and looked up at Sam with such expectant eyes that he couldn't not sit down beside him.
He does it again here, and sits cautiously down next to Cas, balancing the popcorn between them. Cas hands him the remote, and Sam presses play, taking a handful of popcorn and being very aware of Cas's body heat inches away from him.
Thirty minutes in, Castiel is fast asleep. Sam only notices because Cas's head falls all the way back, thumping softly on the back of the couch. Sam watches him breathe for a second - eyelashes fluttering slightly, cheeks rosy. He wonders how the angel, who is usually full of sharp angles and sharper words, can look so soft in moments like these.
Sam pauses the movie and places the popcorn on the floor, carefully lowering Castiel down onto the couch. He stirs slightly, and Sam freezes, careful not to wake him.
Cas's breathing resumes its slow pace, and Sam covers him with a blanket he finds in the back, watching as Cas unconsciously tucks his hands under his face, slightly curling his knees to his chest.
Fuck. Sam is so fucked. He's so in love with this naïve, movie-loving, formerly all-powerful angel that sometimes he can't think about anything else. Cas's words echo in his mind on repeat every night - Nothing is worth losing you. . And he knows that a life with Cas, even a chance with him, is nothing more than a 4 A.M. fantasy.
Can angels even feel romantic love? Is that a possibility? Probably not - Cas has told them in just as many words that angels really only feel shallow emotions as humans understand them. Their main mission is to God, or Chuck or whoever, and real emotions only get in the way.
Sometimes Sam wishes he was an angel, just so he could feel nothing for once in his life. He's been a demon, at least on the brink of becoming one, and all they feel is rage. Acute, deep, permanent rage that never lets up and never slows down. He doesn't wish that upon his worst enemy.
He wonders what Cas feels. What is it like, up there in that borrowed mind? Does Castiel dream, now that he's human? Does he entertain little fantasies like Sam does? Or does he reflect on all that's gone wrong, all the sins he's committed? Sam knows what that feels like as well.
He realizes he's been staring at Cas for far too long. If he's not careful, the angel will probably sense Sam looking at him like a lovesick puppy.
There's something he needs to say first, though - something he think will eat him up from the inside out if he doesn't.
"It's not your fault, Cas," Sam whispers into the darkness. "Really. What you've gone through, what we've gone through - it was inevitable. The mistakes we made... well, we'll have to live with them for the rest of our lives, but beating yourself up night and day won't bring anyone back. It won't clean up our messes for us. And Cas, you're so selfless and generous and kind, so kind, that there's no doubt in my mind that everything you've done has been for the world. Not for us, but for everyone. No one can blame you for trying your best."
Sam shifts on his feet, suddenly feeling very awkward. "Look, all I'm trying to say is that you did what you had to do. I wouldn't be alive without you, Dean wouldn't, Jack wouldn't - no one would. Not a single soul on this planet would be here if it weren't for you. I think ... I think sometimes we forget that. But you deserve to know that we do know. We see what you've sacrificed, what you've lost for us. We - I see it. I do. And hell if I don't love you for it, Cas." The last words slip out without Sam thinking, and his breath catches, but he knows it needed to be said. The angel's asleep anyway, so it's not like it matters or counts.
Sadness pricks at Sam's heart as he watches the blanket rise and fall with Cas's chest, so he carefully walks out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him, not noticing how the angel's eyes are open in the dark and tears have traced a path down his cheeks.
9 A.M.
Sam's standing in the kitchen again, mixing a bowl of pancake mix (from the box, he can't cook from scratch like Dean can), when Cas walks in, eyes bleary from sleep.
"Hey, Cas." Sam greets him without turning around. "You want chocolate chips in your pancakes like usual?" Sam doesn't wait for an answer before pouring in a generous amount, but the lack of a response makes him swing around to look at Cas.
The angel is stock still in the middle of the kitchen, just staring at Sam.
"Uh. Cas?" Sam drops the mixer into the bowl, stepping towards him. His black hair is spiky, and he's still dressed in his pajamas from last night. "Are you okay?"
"I heard you last night." Cas says quietly, and Sam's heart drops.
"Oh. Well, I meant it. I did." Sam watches his expression, but it doesn't change.
"Even the part where you said you loved me?"
Shit. Sam forgot he did that. How could he forget a whole love confession?
"I - I guess I did. Yeah. But look Cas, I'm sorry, and this doesn't have to change anything between us, even though if you want to be around me less or whatever I'll totally understand-" Sam stops when he realizes Cas's eyes are filling with tears.
"Oh, Cas. Oh Cas, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Please don't cry, we can still be friends I promise, I swear it to you." Sam swipes a hand over his face, his heart breaking with every tear that rolls down Cas's face.
"Did you mean it?"
"What?"
"Did you mean it? When you said that?" Cas's voice is shaky.
"Yeah. I did. But like I said-"
Cas surges forward, and before Sam knows it, he's kissing him, backing Sam up against the counter, kissing him so hard Sam thinks he might never breathe again.
"Cas, what the hell?" Sam breaks away, a firm hand on Cas's chest. The expression on Cas's face falls into fear.
"Was that wrong?"
"No, no Cas it wasn't wrong, I'm just - confused."
"About what?"
"Why you're kissing me."
"Because I love you." Cas says it simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I have for a very long time."
Sam doesn't have any words, so he just kisses Cas again, and the chocolate pancakes sit on the counter, forgotten, for a very long time.