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They were standing in the kitchen, so far inside each other’s space that they were almost touching.
Their hands were soft and slightly reaching, their heads tilted, their lips parted. They could each feel the warmth, the want, radiating from the other.
This was it. This was it. This was it. Dean could barely breathe. He leaned forwards, slowly… he blinked, once, and then let his eyes fall closed as he –
“Dean…”
Cas’ voice was a saw through the silence, rough and unexpected. Dean’s eyes snapped back open, to see that Cas had turned his face away. He was looking down at the floor, his lips tight and unsmiling. For a moment, Dean stood absolutely still, frozen in place by sheer horror.
“Oh, God…” He fell back a step, reaching out blindly behind him and finding the edge of the counter, gripping it for support. He stared at Cas, his mouth still open, sucking in breaths that sandpapered the back of his throat. Cas didn’t look up; Dean thought he looked as though he’d calcified under the threat of the kiss, become stone instead of skin. Dean swallowed painfully. He wanted to run, but his feet were anchors.
“I’m – C-Cas, I’m –” Dean stuttered, the words like petrol on his tongue, leaking from a choked engine; he was turning red, now, shit, he needed to get out of here –
“I’m sorry,” Cas said, with his eyes still fixed on that same spot on the floor, his lips barely moving. Dean couldn’t look at his white, white face. Instead, he watched the way Cas’ fist was clenching and unclenching ever so slightly, as though Cas were digging his fingernails into his palm, over and over.
“You – you shouldn’t apologise,” Dean managed to say, around the growing lump in his throat. Shit, was he going to cry? He needed to run, now. He took a step sideways, heading for the door. “I never would’ve – I thought you wanted…” His voice was shaking. He stopped speaking abruptly, turning his back on Cas and walking away. His legs weren’t his own and the door was approaching far too slowly, was he even moving? His cheeks were on fire and oh, God, let this all be a nightmare…
“But I do,” said Cas, just as Dean reached the doorway, and the nightmare fell sideways into confusion.
Dean swung around, his chest unbearably tight. Cas hadn’t moved; he was still facing away, his back unnaturally straight and his shoulders tense. Half of Dean wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard that, and back away through the door so that he could hide in his room and imagine that the whole thing had never happened; and yet, if there were even the slightest chance…
“You do – what?” he ground out, speaking to the back of Cas’ head.
“I do want,” Cas said, his voice so quiet that it was barely audible over the hum of the fridge-freezer. For a moment, reality seemed to blur in waves as Dean stood in the brightly-lit kitchen, his socked feet feeling the coldness of the tiles as he moved back over to where Cas was standing.
“You…” Dean said, shaking off the surreality and pressing his lips together, trying to find the words he needed. “But – you just –”
“I’m sorry,” Cas murmured. His voice was so low that Dean couldn’t hear the tone, couldn’t tell if Cas were sad, or angry, or confused.
“Cas, look at me,” Dean said. His hand reached out for Cas’ to pull him around, but fell limp halfway through the space between them; Cas turned without his help, slowly, as though his stone bones were grinding against each other. His face was taut, unreadable. “What’s going on?”
The question hung in the air for a few seconds before Cas sighed, acknowledging it. His eyes shifted left and right before finally looking up to meet Dean’s. He looked so sad, full of a pain that Dean didn’t know how he’d caused.
“What did I do?” he asked, hands reaching helplessly and then swinging back to his sides. “Cas, I don’t –”
“It’s not you,” Cas said, firmly enough to still Dean’s trembling for a moment. “It’s not you, Dean. It’s just…”
Dean swallowed as Cas ran out of words. He hated this, hated it so much – why had he ever tried to… why had he thought that doing that was a good idea? Now Cas was trying to make him feel better, but it couldn’t be more obvious that he simply didn’t feel the same way. Dean felt the first, brutal stab of heartache slice through the shocked numbness in his chest.
“Cas, it’s OK,” Dean said. His throat was desperately tight but he tried to force a normal-sounding voice out through it. “It’s alright, you don’t have to do that. We’ll just forget it ever –”
“A while ago,” Cas said, cutting through Dean’s sentence as though he hadn’t been speaking, “I asked Sam why you took many lovers.”
Even through his hurt and confusion, Dean half-choked at that; he started spluttering his surprise, but Cas pressed on.
“Sam was very helpful. He told me that you enjoyed the physical intimacy, but did not want to stay with one person long enough to form a mutual emotional bond. He said that your preferred tactic was to love them and lose them.”
“Leave them,” Dean corrected woodenly. “Love ‘em and leave ‘em. He said that?” Not that Dean could blame his brother, he reflected. The words only stung because they were true. In fact, in another time, Dean would’ve grinned with pride at being thought of as the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em kind of guy.
“He did. So, you see why…” Cas voice tailed away into silence. He’d been watching Dean as he was speaking, but now his eyes dropped back down to the floor.
“Wait,” Dean said, his voice coming out a little too high – would his throat just get its shit together, for a second? “Wait. You think that if we – if we got together, that I’d do that to you?”
Cas’ brow creased, in the way that always made Dean’s heart squeeze. Tonight was no exception.
“It is your preferred behaviour,” he said slowly. “I do not criticise it, I… understand. Forming an emotional connection on that level is not –”
“You think we don’t already have an emotional connection?” Dean said, the question coming out more angrily than he’d intended. He took a breath. “You don’t think it’s maybe a little late to be thinking about that?”
“Dean,” Cas said, tilting his head to one side, “we have a bond. But I can’t imagine that the nature of our feelings for each other won’t be altered by… prolonged physical contact.” Cas’ cheeks reddened ever so slightly, a fact that was not lost on Dean. For half a second, he almost smiled, but then the weight of what Cas was saying really hit him: Cas didn’t trust him. Cas thought that he was going to screw him and then move on, just like he did with any other one night stand.
“So you think that I’d do that to you,” Dean said, hollowly. “You think if we… you know, get together, then my feelings for you will change and suddenly I’ll treat you like a hook-up that I met in the bar the night before? Fall asleep beside you but be gone by morning?”
“Fear of commitment is a very prominent feature in many of the TV shows we watch,” Cas pointed out gravely, and now Dean had to regret introducing Cas to Dr. Sexy on top of everything else. “It is not the kind of character trait that is easy to shake off. I think you underestimate the likelihood that you will feel trapped if you tie yourself to me romantically.” Dean’s mouth fell open, but Cas continued, his voice becoming quiet and sad, “Dean… I can live without you loving me, if it means you won’t leave me.”
Dean stared at Cas for a long moment. They were both breathing heavily, both standing with their fists clenched and their jaws tight, holding the gaze for as long as they could bear it; Dean broke first, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand across his brow. He swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts.
“Fear of commitment,” he said dryly after a few moments, with a bitter little laugh. “You think I’ve got a fear of commitment? Well, you’re damn right, I do. You know why?” Cas opened his mouth to speak, and then seemed to think better of it, and shook his head instead.
“Because I am too freaking committed,” Dean growled. “No matter who I’ve been with, however I try to play it, I am always the one who cares more… who wants more… who’s ready to take it further first. I don’t do commitment, not because I think I’m gonna get stuck or trapped or any of that bullshit… because every time I have done it, I get hurt.”
“Dean –” Cas said, but Dean held up a hand to silence him. Now that he’d started, he could feel his thoughts falling into place. And even if this was some messed-up emotional shit, he had to say it.
“Thing is, with you, it’s different,” he said, his throat tightening again with nerves. “It’s not the same. I could never make the smart choice with you, I just… the amount of times I should’ve left you, man. After all the crap we’ve given each other, all the things I’ve done to you, it would’ve been better for you if we’d just given up trying to stick together. I even had a chance, when you’d forgotten all about me… remember? Should’ve left you to live your life, should’ve let you forget all about me. But I just – I couldn’t let it go, Cas.” Dean took a few breaths, and looked into Cas’ eyes. They were deep as pools, unreadable. Dean swallowed hard. “Truth is… I’ve loved you for years, man. And I haven’t been able to leave you yet.”
For a long moment they stood frozen like a tableau, Dean’s shoulders half-raised in a shrug, Cas’ mouth slightly open. Dean swallowed hard, waiting for Cas to speak.
“Swear you won’t,” Cas said, his eyes burning into Dean’s with an intensity that took his breath away. “Swear you won’t leave me.”
“I swear,” Dean said, his feet stepping forwards of their own accord, his hand reaching for Cas’ shoulder. “I swear I won’t.”
“Even if you think it’s for the best,” Cas said, his tone stilling Dean’s movement. “Even if you’re angry or hurting or… different. Even if you bring half of Hell’s fire along with you, Dean, swear you’ll come back to me.”
Dean almost shuddered under the force of Cas’ words, pounding into him like columns of stone falling to the ground.
“I always have,” Dean said, his mouth working to lie flat. “I always will. I swear it.”
Cas let out a sigh that shook a little, his eyes falling closed for a moment. When he opened them again, they were softer, calmer. He took a step forward, and then another, until they were back in each other’s space – back being so close that they were almost touching, hands slightly reaching, heads tilted. Dean’s heart was beating loud and strong in his ears. Cas’ eyes were still on his, holding him steady; after a moment, though, he smiled slightly and his gaze flicked down to Dean’s lips. Dean reached forwards, and found Cas’ fingers. He linked them together, his skin against Cas’ for the first time in far, far too long. For a few seconds, it was enough; and then the need for more, for everything, pounded into Dean with a suddenness that pushed him forwards, wrapped his free hand around the back of Cas’ neck, and pressed their lips together with a sweet desperation. They kissed hard, not thinking to move their lips or open their mouths, instead burying themselves in the heat and scent of the other in a perfect stillness. There would be time for good kisses later, but this was just crushing as close together as they could possibly get. Cas put his hand on the side of Dean’s face, fingers curled into his hair, and Dean felt a rush of emotion that sent a single tear down his cheek. He slid the hand on Cas’ neck down his back, pulling their bodies closer.
When they broke apart, they were both gasping a little. Dean opened his eyes before Cas did, and saw his creased brow, the way he drew his bottom lip into his mouth as though to hold closer the place where Dean had kissed him.
“Cas?” Dean said softly. Cas’ eyes opened. He looked at Dean, and somehow – even though he wasn’t smiling – it was the most complete happiness that Dean had ever seen. He leaned forwards, and pressed their foreheads together.
“I love you,” he said. “I won’t ever leave you.”