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Dean slammed the dusty, encyclopedia-sized book shut and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. After the fiasco with Metatron, Sam and Dean had gone back to paging through thousands of dry old books filled with everything from a compilation of frickin’ unicorn lore to a 200-page essay about the sentience of haunted cars. But not one single useful mention of the Mark of Cain, of course. That would only have been lucky, and since when did the Winchesters possess luck?
Sighing heavily, Dean got up to go grab- not a beer- a bottle of water- from the kitchen, glancing at his brother, who was buried in a journal written in some kind of foreign language. Dean shook his head. They had been combing through all this useless crap for days, and to be perfectly honest Dean felt a bit stir-crazy and desperately wanted to get out, even just to hit a bar or two. But he stuck to his vow to stay away from those places and types of meals, even though his current rabbit-food diet sometimes made him want to gag. And anyhow, he wanted to explore any possibility, however remote, of finding a way to remove the Mark of Cain. Secretly, Dean felt certain the answer couldn’t be found in any library or book, but he didn’t exactly have a choice. He was desperate.
Dean walked into the kitchen, rubbing his right arm absently until he noticed the action. Quickly removing his hand and flexing it, he grabbed a water from the fridge and unscrewed the cap. God, he wished Cas were here. He missed the nerdy little angel; Cas always seemed to know what was in Dean’s mind before Dean did himself. And to be honest, Dean wasn’t even sure what exactly he felt about the angel anymore.
To his surprise, he felt a buzz in his pocket, where he kept his phone. Taking it out, he saw the notification “1 new text message from Cas”. Dean clicked on it, hoping Cas didn’t bear more bad news.
- Hello Dean.
Dean frowned to himself, more than a little confused. Cas almost never contacted them without a reason.
hi cas u ok? -
- I’m fine Dean. How are you?
ok i guess. u werent kidding about smileys were u? -
- No, I wasn’t. Do you want me to come over?
Dean raised his eyebrows, but he couldn’t deny that he did want the angel here. Very much so.
if u want. where are u anyhow? -
- Nearby. I’ll be there soon.
Shrugging, Dean walked out of the kitchen to inform Sam that they would have a visitor. He figured Cas would tell them why he had come when he got here.
~~~~~~~~
As it turned out, ‘nearby’ meant ‘several hours away’ and Dean began to get antsy and more than a bit annoying. Eventually, Sam gave Dean his laptop, telling him to do some research on the internet. They both knew that Sam, the real web expert, had combed it and found nothing pertinent, but Sam just wanted to read in peace. Dean knew Sam realized that he would, in fact, either go to bustyasianbeauties.com or just read fanfiction, but simply pretended not to. The truth was, after the crazy “Supernatural” Musical, Dean had decided to see if any decent fanfictions existed about things he liked. As it turned out, you could post a picture of a potato on the Internet and sooner or later someone would write a fanfiction about it. He had made quick work of most of the good Doctor Sexy, M.D. stories and had tried Star Trek next (he had always secretly loved the show, cheesy effects and all). After a considerable period of hesitation, Dean had decided he liked Spock/Kirk. The lengths the two would go for each other were extreme, and Dean always got a kick out of Kirk’s ability to make Spock show emotion, as well as Spock’s subtle sassiness and extreme loyalty. And after learning Gene Roddenberry himself had declared Spock and Kirk were t’hy’la, he figured the two were as good as canon.
Dean hadn’t watched porn or read any fanfiction for a few weeks though, as part of his self-imposed diet. It took all of his willpower, but Dean began the frustrating task of trying to make google bring up a result relevant to the Mark of Cain.
About forty-five minutes later, he heard the bunker door open and quickly closed out of the tab. Shutting the laptop lid, he hurried over.
“Cas, what’s up?” Dean’s eyes raked over the angel. The first thing he noticed was a familiar-looking striped blue tie. “Your tie’s back!” he blurted out, before he could stop himself.
Cas looked down at himself. “Yes, I…Claire said I looked better in one,” he said, shrugging.
She’s not wrong, Dean thought to himself, though a part of him still wanted Cas back in the old trenchcoat too.
While Dean mused over Cas’s wardrobe, Sam came up behind him. “Hi, Cas,” he said. “Is everything ok?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I just wanted to ‘check in’ and see how you guys were doing.”
“Probably a good thing,” Sam replied. “I’m getting tired of reading the same books over and over.”
“Sam’s right, Dean, the only sources of information about the Mark are Metatron and Cain,” Cas said. “And Lucifer, I suppose,” he added as an afterthought.
Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So…do y’want to just crash here for the night? I mean, there’s no apocalypses on the immediate horizon.” He winced inwardly, cursing how needy and awkward he sounded.
“Of course, Dean,” said Cas.
Dean grinned. “Great.” He glanced at his brother, who seemed to be considering Dean and the angel. “What?” he asked in confusion.
Sam shook his head, smiling as though he knew something nobody else did. “Nothing.”
Shrugging, Dean brushed it off. “If we’re going to have a sleepover, though, I don’t want yet another frickin’ salad,” Dean replied, heading off into the kitchen. Truthfully, he really just wanted to cook something that wasn’t rabbit food and would use anything as an excuse. He wondered if Cas still liked hamburgers.
~~~~~~~~
Dean had just finished forming the raw meat into hamburger patties when Cas poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey, Cas,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if there was any way I could help,” the angel solemnly replied.
Dean snorted. “It’s cooking, Cas, not saving the world for the thousandth time.”
Cas just stared at him. Dean glanced up to find Cas’s eyes, large and puppy-like, locked on his own. Dean felt his heart jump and swallowed, forcing the feeling down.
“How are you doing, Dean?” Cas asked quietly, and Dean knew what he meant. The Mark. He could feel it twitching inside him every time he picked up a blade or a gun or, hell, even a kitchen knife to some degree.
“Peachy,” he said shortly.
Cas studied his face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Dean turned away. “Yeah, you can start slicing the tomatoes,” he said, gesturing towards a couple of the vegetables or fruits or whatever the hell they were.
Cas reluctantly picked up a knife and went to work chopping, though it was clearly not what he had in mind when he asked to help. Dean smiled to himself- an angel cutting up tomatoes?- and started toasting buns. The next few minutes passed in comfortable silence, at least until Dean heard a sudden snap. Whirling around, he stared for a few minutes at Cas’s cutting board while Cas frowned slightly, the way he always did when frustrated or irritated.
“Uh, Cas,” Dean said after a while, “you have no idea how to slice tomatoes, do you?”
“It was never exactly a necessary skill in Heaven,” the angel grumbled defensively.
“Uh-huh,” said Dean. “We’re going to need a new, unbroken knife. And a cutting board; preferably one without blood.”
~~~~~~~~
Dean had subsequently banished Cas from the kitchen, and in the meantime, free of distractions, he had gotten on with cooking the hamburgers.
He placed the last bun on top of the last burger and stood back, admiring his work. Three plates, each with a thick, juicy patty sandwiched between sesame buns and a thick slice of cheddar cheese. He hoped he had made enough; even though a few extras sat on a plate on the kitchen counter, he didn’t want a repeat of the hamburglar incident.
He grabbed one plate for Cas and another for Sam and made his way to the tables, where they sat enthusiastically discussing the meaning of the symbols on Ruby’s knife. Dean raised the plates, grinning at the look of anticipation on Cas’s face. “Chow time,” he said, setting the hamburgers down in front of them.
“Wow, Dean, this looks really good,” said Sam, taking a massive bite. “Thanks for making this.”
“Yeah, remind me to never let Cas anywhere near the preparation of food again,” Dean replied, smirking.
The angel glared at him around a mouthful of burger.
~~~~~~~~
For a few minutes, only the sound of chewing could be heard. Dean grabbed the bottle of ketchup and squirted an almost obscene amount on his plate. Cas followed the action with his eyes, studying the bright red sauce with a rather confused countenance. Probably trying to figure out if it’s really a vegetable, Dean decided. In turn, Dean smiled when Cas headed to the kitchen for another one; he had powered through his as if angel really did feel hunger.
Sam stared at the pair of them, an odd, calculating expression on his face.
“What?” Dean demanded.
Sam shook his head. “Nothing,” he said quickly.
~~~~~~~~
After the three of them had finished dinner, Dean had sunk into the couch with a contented sigh, beer in hand. Cas had settled himself next to Dean, and Sam had knelt in front of the TV, flipping through their collection of DVDs.
“Thought we might as well show Cas a Star Trek,” he said in reply to Dean’s questioning look.
“Metatron gave me knowledge of popular TV shows,” Cas informed them (again).
“Not the same as watching it,” grumbled Dean.
Sam finally found the Star Trek disc he’d been looking for (he had memorized which specific episodes were on which disc) and turned on the TV. Grabbing the remote, he flopped back into a chair and selected ‘Amok Time’. Dean shot his brother a suspicious glance, but Sam remained innocently watching the start of the episode, and eventually Dean turned his attention to the show.
The episode was one of Dean’s favorites, and he completely lost track of time, caught up in the plot- the famous “biology of Vulcans” scene, Spock’s choice of Kirk and Bones as his two closest friends to bring down to the surface, the ritual fight between Kirk and Spock. That is, at least until it seemed like Spock had killed Kirk, at which point Cas turned to Dean, looking almost stricken.
“You okay, Cas?”
“I didn’t realize Spock was that close to Kirk,” he said plaintively.
“Yeah, they are t’hy’la,” said Dean, smirking slightly. “Don’t worry, they still have like two seasons and six movies together.”
Cas cocked his head, waiting for an explanation. Dean nodded toward the screen. The angel relaxed when Kirk revealed he was still alive and even smiled slightly at Spock’s reaction. Dean closed his eyes and leaned back in the couch, soothed by the familiar theme music.
“Dean?”
“Mmm?”
“What does t’hy’la mean?”
Dean opened one eye. “What, Metatron didn’t tell you or show you or whatever the hell he did?”
Cas shook his head.
“Well, it means friend, brother, and, uh…lover,” replied Dean, taking a long swallow of his beer (he had decided that he had already had hamburgers, he might as well treat himself).
“Oh,” said Cas. Then, “You and I are t’hy’la.”
Dean choked and spat his beer out; he noted in some corner of his mind that wasn’t completely freaking out over what Cas said that he might have to buy Sam a new laptop. “What?!” he demanded, his mind reeling. Surely Cas didn’t- couldn’t- mean what Dean hoped (no, thought) he did; surely he had just failed to pick up on the implications, like always? Right?
Fortunately, Sam hadn’t noticed the damage done to his laptop. On the contrary, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely and was quaking with silent laughter. Dean glared at him.
Cas’s eyes seemed to see right through Dean’s soul. “We do share a more profound bond,” he said quietly, so only Dean could hear him.
Dean’s breath hitched in his throat. Cas’s face was very close. He swallowed and hastily got up, heading toward the kitchen. “Yeah, you said. I need another drink,” he said gruffly, his heart racing.
“Dean,” Cas said, a note of authority in his voice.
Dean reluctantly turned around to meet the angel’s gaze; Cas took a few steps closer. “Dean, I mean it.”
Neither of them noticed when Sam surreptitiously tiptoed out of the room.
Dean felt lightheaded and his thoughts had scrambled to the far corners of the earth. All he could see were Cas’s eyes, an intense blue that seemed to pierce through his very being.
“I love you, Dean.”
Dean reached out a hand and gently traced the angel’s jawline. “I-I- I love you too,” he replied, and for once, he wasn’t lying or wishing he was.
Cas beamed. Dean had never truly understood the phrase “blinding smile” until then- this was pure joy. Dean realized he had never seen Cas smile that way before- rarely more than a short grin or smirk.
“You should smile like that more often,” he breathed.
“I learned that from Mister Spock,” Cas whispered in Dean’s ear.
“Nerd,” replied Dean affectionately, leaning in for a long overdue kiss.
~~~~~~~~
Sometime later, Sam reentered the room and picked up the laptop; realizing what had happened to it he had been about to yell at Dean when his eye fell on the couch. Dean and Cas had fallen asleep cuddling each other and watching TV (Star Trek, of course). Cas’s hand was entwined in Dean’s hair; Dean’s head rested on Cas’s chest, a blissful smile plastered on his face. He looked far more relaxed than he had been in years. Sam laughed softly to himself. “Finally.” It had had taken the pair long enough.
“You see, I feel sorrier for you than I do for him, because you'll never know the things that love can drive a man to... the ecstasies, the miseries, the broken rules, the desperate chances, the glorious failures, and the glorious victories. All of these things you'll never know, simply because the word ‘love’ isn't written into your book,” said the TV, interrupting Sam’s train of thought. He cautiously padded to the remote and paused it on Spock breaking the rules; mind-melding with Kirk and muttering “forget”.
He turned off the light and headed back to his room, still quietly chuckling to himself. Dean and Cas really were t’hy’la, after all.