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Sometimes he looks at Cas, and it sends a jolt through his body. Something that pumps electricity through the entirety if who his is, because he is so perfect, so wonderfully his.
Cas will just be sitting there, in the rattiest armchair the bunker’s library has to offer. Ever since he lost his grace, he’s taken to reading glasses, and they’re sliding down his nose and Dean feels like he’s going to explode because of all the weird fantasies that are playing through his head. Cas will tilt his head and squint at the words in whatever book has sparked his fancy, and Dean’s going to freaking die.
But Cas will see him standing in the doorway, and simply smile, with that knowing smirk on his face. The smug jerk. He’ll place his book on the chair’s arm, making sure that his place is saved with the book face-down, holding his point in the story. Then he just waltzes over to Dean, like nothing is happening. Like Dean isn’t feeling like he could die right now.
“How long have you been standing there?” He’ll say, coming to a stop in front of Dean, letting his hand come up to graze Dean’s stubbly cheek. He totally knows. This jerk totally knows. He’s been reading the same two pages of Pride and Prejudice for the past five minutes.
Dean rolls his eyes, letting out a soft huff, before leaning into Cas’s touch. “As long as you’ve been re-reading Darcy and Elizabeth’s love confessions.”
Cas hums in reply, bringing Dean’s face down so their lips are an inch apart. “Does this mean I get my own, then?”
Dean chuckles, before slotting their lips together.
“How could you begin? I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?” Dean murmurs, smiling at how Cas chuckles against his chest.
Those blue eyes look back up at him, “ I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”