Work Text:
Dean didn’t really believe in fate, despite having grown up around magic and witches and being a familiar himself, a creature whose main purpose was to assist a witch in channelling magic. He didn’t think he believed in love at first sight either which, even in a world with magic, seemed far too Disney to be real.
That was, of course, before he had met Castiel. He remembered the exact moment when he had entered the Roadhouse, nearly a year ago now, and first locked eyes with the witch. He had been wearing his signature trenchcoat and his hair was adorably mussed. He had looked so beautiful at that moment that Dean had, for a few seconds, forgotten how to breathe.
As it turned out, Castiel wasn’t just gorgeous but was also incredibly smart and sharp-witted. Whenever he managed to make Dean laugh with his dry, sarcastic sense of humour, his lips would quirk up in a small smile and adorable creases would form around his eyes.
So maybe, after Castiel, Dean did start to believe in love at first sight. All he really knew was that, at some point, he had fallen in love with the beautiful, funny, crazy smart witch.
Dean felt, not uncomfortable (he was never really uncomfortable around Cass) but he did feel awkward as he sat down beside the witch for yet another movie night. Ever since he had learnt that Castiel hadn’t seen what Dean thought of as the classics, they had been bingeing their way through them. The familiar mostly just loved watching Castiel watch the movies. He loved seeing the way his brow would crease when he didn’t understand something or listening as he laughed when he found something funny.
“Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asked him, perhaps picking up on Dean’s nerves.
“What? Yeah, I’m fine, man,” Dean said, turning to smile at Castiel, who, after a second of squinting at Dean, smiled back.
The conversation that Dean had had with Charlie a few days ago was still fresh in his mind. He had been having lunch with her at a diner they both liked and, after Charlie had raved about a girl she had met, Dorothy, she had asked Dean about his love life, or lack thereof. Charlie, like most of the other people in Dean’s life, had noticed how quickly he had gotten close to Castiel. She had been the first to approach Dean and ask about his crush and, since he had admitted it, had been badgering him to ask out the dark-haired witch.
“So you still haven’t got the balls to ask him out?” she had said, absent-mindedly stirring her chocolate milkshake with her straw as she fixed Dean with a searching look.
“Wow, harsh, Charlie,” Dean said.
“And accurate,” Charlie said with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. “Come on, Dean. Cass is just as gone on you as you are on him, man! Anyone can see it. Hell, everyone does see it! And we’re all really sick of watching you guys eye-fuck whenever you’re together.”
“He hasn’t said anything,” Dean muttered, looking down at the table to avoid meeting her eyes.
“Neither have you!” Charlie groaned in frustration and pressed a hand against her face. “Jeez, you two are the most stubborn, irritating, stupid -”
“Okay, okay! I get it,” Dean said. “I’ll… If I ask him out, will you get off my back?”
“Never. You need me, Winchester.” Charlie grinned at him. “You’re paying for lunch, right?”
Dean tried not to notice how close together he and Castiel were sitting together on Dean’s small couch. Castiel’s hand rested against his and the witch’s head was almost leaning against Dean’s shoulder as he snuggled down into the couch.
“What are we watching tonight?” Castiel asked, smiling at Dean in a way that made the man’s heart flutter.
“Well, I thought that we could watch The Princess Bride ,” Dean told him.
“Okay,” Castiel said, nodding. “That sounds good.”
“Okay. Awesome.” Dean turned back to the TV and picked up the remote. “It’s kind of chick-flicky in some bits, but it's got loads of adventuring and fighting as well. I know that you’re gonna love it.”
Castiel, as always, listened with interest as Dean talked, his head slightly tilted and his eyes never leaving Dean’s face. Dean was struck, as he often was, by how much he loved this adorable, awesome, funny, nerdy dork. It was only after they were about half an hour into The Princess Bride that Dean realised that Castiel’s hand had moved to rest over his own. He glanced over at the witch, but Castiel was too engrossed in the film to notice.
Dean kind of wished that he was a cat right now, rather than human. Sometimes he would use his cat-form when they were having a movie night. It gave him the freedom to drape himself across Castiel’s lap and have the witch run his hands through his fur without giving away his feelings.
Except, that was kind of the point of tonight. Dean had promised Charlie that he would tell Castiel. Hell, he had promised himself . Knowing, one way or another, had to be better than just pining after the guy, right?
“Dean,” Castiel said, and Dean realised that the witch had turned to look back at him.
On instinct, Dean glanced at the TV and saw that the credits were rolling. He was glad that it was too dark for the witch to see him blushing.
“Did you, er, did you like the movie?” Dean asked, trying to dispel the awkwardness that he was feeling.
Castiel, apparently immune to awkward situations, just smiled and nodded at Dean, tilting his head slightly as he looked at him, his blue eyes surveying Dean unblinkingly.
“Yes, Dean. It was interesting.”
“Interesting?” Dean raised an eyebrow incredulously. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Well,” Castiel said, a crease appearing between his eyes as he thought. “I suppose I agree with you when you said that it was ‘chick-flicky’ but is that really a bad thing? I thought the romantic parts of the movie were very compelling.”
“Yeah, but you know me, Cass. I’m not really a chick-flick guy,” Dean said, shrugging.
“That’s not true,” Castiel said with a small smirk.
Dean groaned before looking back at the witch, unable to hide his smile.
“You been talking to Sammy again? Because you know that you can’t believe everything he says.”
“I know you well enough to know about your soft spot for movies that you classify as ‘chick flicks’, Dean,” Castiel said, using his fingers to make air quotes around the words.
Dean suddenly realised how close they were, their mouths only inches apart. He watched as Castiel’s eyes darted down to his mouth.
“Cass…” Dean raised a hand but stopped before his fingers touched Castiel’s face. “I think I know you pretty well too. But, right now, I’m not sure if I’m reading this right. Just… tell me, please? If I’m wrong.”
Dean leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to Castiel’s lips. He pulled away just as fast, barely able to appreciate the texture of the witch’s soft pink lips. He looked into Castiel’s eyes, trying to gauge his reaction. The familiar’s breath caught as Castiel took Dean’s hand, which was still just hovering in the air, and pressed it to his face.
“As you wish, Dean,” he said, smiling.
Dean burst out laughing.
“You are such a dork,” he said, shaking his head slightly.
“Please,” Castiel said, his eyes twinkling. “You love how dorky I am.”
Castiel was the one who leaned in this time when Dean failed to answer. The kiss was slow and gentle initially but began getting more and more heated. Dean broke the kiss to climb on top of the witch, straddling his thighs, and pressed him back into the couch, one of his hands moving down to undo the buttons on Castiel’s shirt as he rejoined their lips. Castiel helped Dean unbutton his shirt and, once they had managed to push it off the witch’s shoulders, all without rebreaking their heated kiss, Castiel began to eagerly push Dean’s flannel off. Dean laughed and sat back so that he could pull off his flannel and shirt. He tossed them away into a corner, before looking back down at Castiel. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed dark ink covering the witch’s skin.
“You never said that you had tattoos,” Dean said, running his fingers lightly across the beautiful patterns.
A few intricate feathers curved around Castiel’s torso. Dean could just make out the edges of a pair of more feathers on the edges of his arms and shoulders that, Dean realised, his eyes, widening, must make up a pair of wings on his back. All of the feathers were edged in a rainbow of colours. Dean smirked as he saw some tattooed bees buzzing through the feathers, their gauzy wings and fuzzy bodies just as detailed as the feathers.
“Do you like them?” Castiel asked, eyeing Dean with an almost nervous look on his face.
“ Like them? They’re amazing.” Dean grinned up at Castiel before kissing him again. He pulled back slightly and lowered his voice. “And sexy. Just like you.”
Castiel chuckled, shaking his head as much as he was able to before threading his fingers into Dean’s hair to pull his head down for another deep kiss. He pouted when Dean pulled back again.
“Not that I’m not having a whole heap of fun right here, but what if we move this through to my bed?” Dean waggled his eyebrows at Castiel. “It’s memory foam.”
Castiel laughed softly and nodded. Dean stood up and held out his hand, somehow managing to smile even more as the witch’s fingers intertwined with his.
-
Dean woke up the next morning to the smell of something burning. His eyes shot open as he threw off the sheets twisted around his legs, scrambled out of the bed and all but sprinted out of the bedroom. Castiel was standing in his kitchen, only wearing a pair of boxers, his hair even messier than usual. Dean swallowed as his eyes caught on the muscles flexing in Castiel’s back under the wing tattoos before he managed to drag his gaze away, towards the stove. The witch was staring helplessly down at a frying pan containing what Dean guessed had been eggs at one point. Now, it was just a charred, smouldering mess.
“Ah, Dean,” Castiel said, looking guilty. “Good morning?”
“Were you trying to make me breakfast?” Dean asked.
“Trying to, yes,” Castiel replied with a sheepish smile.
“Well, I appreciate the thought,” Dean said as he moved past the witch to turn off the stove. “But maybe, in the future, I should do the cooking?”
“That may be a better idea,” Castiel admitted.
“I mean…” Dean looked down at the former eggs. “You can use magic, man, and you can’t fry eggs?”
The witch just rolled his eyes and chuckled. Dean smiled to himself as he cleaned the pan off and placed it in the sink. He hesitated for a second before turning back to Castiel. The witch was still smiling warmly as Dean leaned back on the counter, their legs touching in the small kitchen.
“Maybe we could go out for breakfast?” Dean hesitated. Despite the previous night, a small kernel of doubt remained in his mind. “Like, on a date?”
Castiel, sensing Dean’s anxiety, rested a hand on the back of the other man’s head and gently guided them together for a soft kiss. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt Castiel’s other hand move to rest on his waist. When Castiel pulled away and Dean opened his eyes, he found himself lost in the enchanting, soft blue.
“I’d really like that, Dean,” the witch said, leaning their foreheads together.
“Great,” Dean said, letting out a relieved chuckle. “That’s really great. Er, cards on the table, I’m in love with you.”
“That works out well, Dean,” Castiel answered, smiling as he lifted a hand to touch Dean’s face. “Because I’m in love with you too.”