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Used to the restless nature of a human's, in particular a Winchester's, sleep, the angel Castiel nevertheless will never be able to stomach the belief or vocalization of the worst thoughts about them (even if rendered from a portion, or lack of, sleep) as irrefutable fact.
At the very least, he cannot in regards to Dean.
Their bond is such that even the most infinitesimal shift in Dean's consciousness has an effect upon the angel; at this time it is a shock and then a wrenching trail of sorrow that leads him down the hallway of this Men of Letters bunker to stop at the entrance of the kitchen. The man whose thoughts he'd followed sits with head bent over the table, forearms at rest upon it.
"... Hello, Dean," Castiel's tone is clear, but his physical movement ever-so-slightly hesitant. "Good morning. What are you doing up?"
A shift of shoulder and slight smile tossed back with head lifting "Heya. Mornin', Cas," Dean responds. "A good one, hell no. I couldn't sleep," he offers as answer to the angel's question.
"Oh." Castiel further enters the room, hands folded as he cocks his head, the slightest bit unsure how to ask more, or even if he should.
But this is Dean, the righteous man who he had sworn to care for and protect; and more importantly, his best friend. He must enquire after Dean's well-being for his sake. "Was there a particular reason this time?" He asks.
Dean mumbles something inarticulate, causing Castiel to shift closer, squinting intently. He notices Dean's face now rests in the cup of his hands, and that posture causes something within the angel to shiver. He steps closer still, reaching out to touch the other's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Dean, there were words ---what you just said, that I didn't catch," he speaks haltingly.
The Winchester sighs, dropping his hands.
"I wreck everything I touch," Dean's voice is rough as he speaks again, a trifle louder; his head remains bowed as he shifts back and forth and, extending arms, rolls between his palms a beer bottle he has already started drinking from, despite how early it is in the morning.
He places the bottle down and Cas, casually but very swiftly, with a quickness born almost certainly from the reflexes of battle, swipes the beer off the kitchen table with his hand, causing it to smash on the ground, and answers with a resounding retort, voice sonorous and sharp: "No, you don't."
Dean, staring as he'd shot to his feet with a jump; chest heaving and eyes going wide, looks from the shattered beer to Cas and back, saying in response "What the hell, Cas?!"
"Alcohol at eight in the morning is obviously affecting your mood," the angel points out. "But I thought it appropriate to appeal to that sentiment of you causing wreckage..." He glances at the mess, a twinkle of humor flashing in his eyes as he moves around the table so that he is facing Dean. "Now, so do I."
Dean's mouth quirks upwards even as he grumbles "yeah, well. We're out of coffee, so." Rubbing one hand across his hair and licking his lips, Dean adds "touche, but. Still do," clearing his throat as he settles slow and careful back to sit. "Guess we c'n wreck things together, huh?"
A contented smile graces Castiel's lips as he closes his eyes, resting his clasped fingers against his chin. "Seeing as we're unordinarily proficient, I don't think much will change from our daily routine, Dean." He then peers at Dean skeptically, knitting brows and adding lowly, "You do know water exists......"
Dean angles his body closer to Cas across the table, feeling a sense of warmth. He chuckles. "You got that right, buddy," he says before adding "Yeah, holy water exists to cut with tequila," a crack that precedes a smile crossing his face in earnest.
This startles a laugh from the celestial, a raspy yet bubbly sound. "That sounds very unpleasant," he remarks jovially, shaking his head at the idea of deliberately making something even more bitter. "I don't believe there's enough holy water to quell those, as you once put it, 'demons'."
Dean feels his heart leap at Cas's laugh, and he barks out one of his own in return. "You're damn right," his response is close to a wheeze. "But you won't see Sammy ever stop tryin'." With finger pointed at Cas and voice deadpan serious, Dean continues "just wantcha to know, if you ever see him put lemon zest or some shit in something for me, you better not let me drink it."
"I imagine you don't want to let on that it's a favorite of yours?" he ponders aloud, expression a mix of amusement and confusion. His eyes pass over Dean, fondness prominent. "I highly doubt it's his intention to poison you," he jests.
"I'll take the tequila without the water. You know me," with a snort "hell I don't know what Sammy thinks water is gonna do, never mind his lemon or cucumber crap. Don't even get me STARTED on kale," Dean adds.
Cas puffs out a sigh, or rather the ghost of a laugh. "I'm not familiar with the intricacies of Sam's consumption of alcohol— but be that as it may... I was referring to consuming actual water, Dean." He grins knowingly, wrinkling his nose. "I believe you were already aware."
Dean drops his hand on the table and looks at Cas "no, man, I'm talkin' about how Sammy drinks water," as he speaks he registers just how his words sound, but smacks his lips and continues nevertheless "the alcohol, I'm sayin' you know me and how I drink -" probably too much. Definitely too much. Gesturing at the remnants of his bottle on the floor, Dean adds "I mean, clearly."
At this, Castiel cocks his head, eyes briefly widening. His mouth flounders for words for a moment. "I thought you were referring to alcohol... You mentioned tequila and holy water, I assumed it was correlative." He blinks a few times, casting his eyes to the side. "...I gather you don't– add water to alcohol... as a means to deter its effects......"
"Hah, you'd be gatherin' right," Dean says, his eyes staying on Cas. "Only time I put it's like for that, I was checkin' for demons," he smiles, almost a baring of teeth. Clearing throat, he adds "no, Cas, I'm the guy who drinks shots of whiskey straight. That should answer the question." He leans back with a grunt.
When Cas finds Dean's eyes again, he stares, countenance indecipherable. Frustration needles the back of his head, embarrassment fueling the rosiness rising to his cheeks ever so slightly. "I'm getting you water," he states plainly as he shoots up to his feet, hands placed squarely on the table as he does. Tinkling glass crunches beneath his shoes as he crosses the room then, determination creasing his brow as he searches for a cup.
Dean sighs, rolling eyes and resting forearms on the table surface. He feels a tickle in his chest of fondness. "Okay, buddy," speaking easily. "Just keep the lemon zest outta it, okay?" And then before he can help himself he's leaning, ready to swipe glass shards away from Cas's shoes. "Careful, Cas," he almost barks, gruff concern lancing through his voice. "Don't needja gettin sliced up by the bottle you dropped." Waste 'a beer, he thinks caustically, which comes out through his tone. But he knows Cas is always trying to watch out for him.
Cas speaks towards the cabinet he opens. "I see the glass, Dean," he replies dryly, turning a mug in hand and making a beeline for the fridge after proper inspection. "I'm the one that knocked it over," he mutters into the hollow space as he pours ice cold water into it. Returning to the table, the cup firmly strikes its surface with a resounding clack, Castiel promptly taking back his seat and staring at the water, gaze flickering between it and Dean once or twice.
Dean sighs, purses his lips and lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck and up to brush over his hair. "Yeah, well." Lifting his eyebrows as he slowly reaches out with the other hand to curl it around the handle of the mug, he lifts it "this better be good," and gulps the cold liquid down.
It hits him, somehow, different even than a cold beer. It sounds stupid, but it really is refreshing. He closes his eyes for a moment, and feels a prickling in them, which he clears his throat over and drinks more water before blinking hard and looking at Cas again.
The angel's heart swells, eyes sparkling. For that instance, he forgets himself, marveling at the beautiful being before him. Brilliant green brings him back to reality then, his shoulders falling subtly as his excitement wanes. "Dean," he starts urgently, yet soft, but trails off just as quickly. How can he explain in a way that isn't imposing...?
He moves to lace his hands then, studying them before halting, and gently offers one across the table, blue gaze fiercely honing on the other's face.
Dean pauses, cup halfway between the table and his face as he hears Cas speak. He tilts his head a little, raising the mug. "Yeah, Cas?" He asks, voice echoing in the space as he swallows more, and then at the movement of the other's hand, he coughs, swallow catching briefly in his throat before he clears it. His fingers tremble, but he doesn't move his hand except to shift minutely closer, feeling warmth creep up his neck to his face, wondering what Cas is doing, what he's gonna say.
The angel reveals his palm, concern shifting across his face. He opens his mouth, presses his lips thin, then tries again, cautious, "Dean... please pardon my behavior. It's not my objective to dictate your actions... you've dealt with too much of that from others in your life." He pulls in his shoulders tight to himself, anger evident in how he says 'others', clearly reflecting he implies more specific than general. His gaze falls to the water then, a forlorn look passing. "It's, I...– my wish... that you live to the fullest," he ends, slightly staccato. "That's my hope."
Dean's gaze flickers, his heart lurches at his friend's words. The earnest way he seems angry and concerned and desperate for Dean to feel well, to ...live his life to the fullest. "Holy shit, Cas," he breathes. Swallows, looks at his friend's face and at his hand, and then, with an abrupt movement reaches out and wraps his own fingers around Cas's. Dean presses his palm to the angel's. "Thanks," his throat bobs. He tries for a smile, feeling his chest squeeze. You're so damn good, man, he thinks unbidden. "Ya care so much -" with a creaky little laugh, Dean shakes his head, dips his chin. "...an' drinking my days away ain't livin' to the fullest, huh?"
The abrupt feeling of Dean's hand in his causes his face to burn hot, heart hammering so fiercely it threatens to wrench his hand from the other's grasp. So he squeezes back. "Not unless liver or kidney failure is a part of that plan..." Cas offers tentatively, a small smile creeping onto his face.
Dean chuckles, face dropping as the angel squeezes his hand. He runs his thumb back and forth over Cas's skin, and the sight of eyes flashing and skin darkening on the angel's face along with the smile creeping over it makes something lurch in Dean further. Twisting his fingers and with an abrupt swoop forward of his torso, Dean puts down his water cup and catches the side of Cas's face in the palm of his free hand. Licking his lips, eyes flickering across the angel's face, Dean comes in and presses his mouth to Cas's opposite cheek before he can think better of it.
Or think about it at all.
Cas shivers instantaneously, his grip tightening profusely. The gentle caress of Dean's skin to his forces an involuntary sound of surprise, eyes wide as can be, the corners of his mouth tugging northward. "Dean–" he inquires breathily, tone perplexed yet peppered with a delight he cannot help.
"Uh," Dean stutters on air as he withdraws and sharply inhales, eyes flickering over Cas's face, fingertips trembling slightly against the angel's cheek. His impulse is to apologize "Is - sorry, man, I just -" He keeps his hand to Cas's cheek even as his heart is thudding frantically. Even as his fingers continue to tremble.
Air escapes through Castiel's teeth as he smiles wide now, moving both hands to meet Dean, one to touch his cheek and the other to brace his shoulder. "Do not apologize," he provides gingerly.
"Oh, okay," Dean breathes, heart still thudding even as his body relaxes at Castiel's touch. He can't help it. Closing his eyes and nudging his face into Cas's hand, Dean aches to lean in, to get closer. His fingers flex as he shifts them, thumb still on Cas's cheek, fingers shifting back to curl around his neck and sink into the edges of his hair. He looks from Cas's eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again.
Cas follows Dean's eyeline, lashes fluttering fast as he stares now, astonished. Returning a respective glance, he pauses and then, stroking Dean's face, he asks, "Dean... may I kiss you...?"
Dean feels like his heart stops even as his breath does. He can't speak, but nods, grip tightening, tugging at Cas.
The angel nods, to physically remind himself of Dean's answer, before he too inches over the table, hovering in front of the hunter's lips. His own breath billows across the other's face as he slowly closes the distance, lightly grazing his mouth over Dean's before he presses to it a tender, chaste kiss.
Dean inhales sharply through his nose, both hands loosing for his arms to wrap around Cas, clutching his clothes, his shoulders, tugging him onto the table and pressing close, kissing back and then shifting to kiss the angel again.
Castiel smiles against his lips, shifting his hand so both are now cradling Dean's face, cherishing the touch of his firm jaw as a thumb massages tiny circles into it. "Dean..." he rumbles, placing a kiss to the side of his mouth and his cheek, his dark curls dancing across skin where he presses his forehead in elation.
"Cas," Dean grunts, almost groans out the angel's name. His best friend. He rolls his neck as Cas kisses his mouth, drags lips across Dean's cheek. He knows, somehow, he's got to say - "thank you," low, barely a breath but hopefully still audible, he tightens his arms around Castiel, crossing wrists and bringing hands up to clutch coat and hair. Feels the softness of hair against his own head, the press of Cas's forehead. And those blazing blue eyes - "thanks for takin' care of me." A swallow as Dean shifts with a little laugh of self-deprecation. "Sure as hell ain't an easy job, I know that." He clutches Cas tight, pressing nose tightly against Cas's skin, feeling as if his knees could buckle at the way Cas holds on to him. He aches as his heart clenches though it's not as inclined to race. Aches to be closer, or at least to stay so, with Cas, but doesn't know how to tell him. Hopefully this works, at least for now.
Sharply Castiel wrests himself away, eyes narrow and brows taut. He whips around the table swiftly, planting himself firmly beside Dean and, before the man can utter a word, he catches his face again with both hands, slightly squishing his cheeks. His gaze boring into the man, he insists urgently, "Don't say that."
"--what?" Dean gasps on the word, eyes shooting all over Cas's face as his heart again begins to pound. He feels like he's started sweating with an attempt to offer a small smile "'s okay, cause it's true. I mean, you know me." He tries for a shrug as if to say that it's all right, but his body has jerked and all he can do is drop one hand to Cas's wrist, holding fast to the cloth of his coat.
As again Dean sways closer, breath heaving as he watches the angel's bright gaze flicker over him, he hears a shift and cough before the unmistakable, exasperated voice of his brother intones "Oh get a room!"
Cutting eyes slightly sideways to see that Sam is, in fact, standing in the doorway, Dean tosses back "We're IN a room, Sammy."
"Well get a different room, I need to eat and I won't have an appetite watching - that" shuffle jumping down the stairs he heads to open the fridge.
Castiel, head cocked and eyes squinting, asks "why are you watching if it bothers you?"
Dean smacks his lips, raises brows with a grin and nods first at Cas and then at Sam, who responds "it's like what they say about a car crash, you can't look away -"
"Ah, you're just jealous."
Rolling his eyes "Jealous of my innocence before walking down here five seconds ago, sure." Sam scoffs "I've been dealing with your ridiculous heart-eyes for years, if I have to risk seeing this any time I walk into a room -" Shaking his head, he squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. And then he opens his eyes again and stares hard at them. "AM I gonna be seeing this every time I come in a room, or is this some one-time thing, like a dare or something?"
Because with these idiots, who knows.
Cas says, "this will be a common occurrence, yes."
To which Dean responds by choking out a high sound and staring, all bravado gone as if the wind has been knocked out of him. His next words are almost a squeak "wha - really??"
Sam literally drops his face into his hands.
Cas's reply is a sweet, warm "yes–!" like he's surprised that Dean is surprised. "I wouldn't lie about that." He tilts his head.
Dean blinks rapidly, having to come to terms not just with how much Cas cares but this, he wants this, he likes this, obviously. Enough to - "Shit, Cas, you -" Dean's volume has dropped, his words a breath as with another gulp, hand tightening on the cloth of the angel's coat again "You wanna - be with me, I mean obviously you dig me enough to ask for a kiss but -"
His thoughts tumble into a standstill. He hasn't got any more words. Smooth, Winchester. The one who can flirt all damn day but he's tongue tied by this angel. His angel. Cas can... actually be his angel, what - is that what he's saying -?
Meanwhile Sam's eyes would probably leave his head if they were rolled up any farther. That, or he's ready to slam his head into the wall because seriously, Dean?
But yes, he's very serious because, for Dean, ESPECIALLY for him - this is a big deal.
And he doesn't wanna mess it up.