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It was one thing to dream about what he’d do if– when– he got Cas back from the Empty, it was another to actually have him in the Bunker, warm and steady and alive, his trench coat thrown over the back of a chair and his laugh echoing off the walls.
In the good dreams Dean had about Cas being taken, getting him back meant restoring him to full angel status. Cas would be happy, really, truly happy, and he’d stay with Dean and they wouldn’t fight like they normally did whenever Cas came back. But Cas’s grace was the price they paid for getting him back.
That was one of the first things Dean said to Cas when he got back. Cas had appeared, confused and disorientated, the blinding white light of the portal casting odd shadows on his pale face, in the middle of the Bunker. Dean swore he had prepared something to say, but the words didn’t come, dying in his throat. Instead, he staggered towards Cas, his hand coming up to cup Cas’s cheek as if checking to make sure he was real, before pulling Cas into a speechless hug. He was sure he was holding onto Cas too tightly, hands clinging onto the fabric of that trench coat like it was a lifesaver, because it was, but Cas didn’t seem to mind. And after a few seconds of silence, filled only by the pounding of Dean’s heart in his ears, Cas hugged back, burying his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck.
When Dean pulled away, he cleared his throat, and said, “I made sure to keep your room clean for you” instead of asking Cas to stay and he said, “I’m sorry we couldn’t make you an angel” instead of saying ‘I love you’.
“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said, but he wasn’t smiling, and in all of Dean’s good dreams, Cas was usually smiling after they brought him back.
It took three days before Dean got the courage to say anything about the confession. Two days of Cas never quite settling down into the Bunker, despite what Dean had hoped. He always sat on the edge of his seat and his eyes always flickered to Dean whenever he entered the room, squaring his shoulders in anticipation of the looming conversation that Dean couldn’t bring himself to start.
Dean really thought Cas knew. He’d never been good at saying ‘I love you’, not even to Sam. The words never seemed to do his feelings justice, and all at once, they felt much too vulnerable. He thought he’d done a good job showing it through his actions, but apparently he hadn’t, because Cas was still watching him like any second, the other shoe would drop, and Dean would tell him he hated him because of the confession.
For Cas, though, he would try, because Cas deserved the world, and yet somehow he’d decided to settle for Dean and this little life in the Bunker.
“You were wrong, man,” Dean said, standing in the doorway of Cas’s bedroom. “Whatever you want from me, you can have it.”
“That’s very nice of you to say, Dean.”
Damnit, he really was terrible at this. “I mean it, Cas. I love you. It took me way too long to realize it, and even longer to be able to say it, but I love you. I want everything with you. Hand-holding in public and kissing and going grocery shopping together and a white picket fence and a dog.”
“You have a dog.” Cas stood up from where he’d been perched on the edge of his bed, stepping closer to Dean.
“And the rest of it?” Dean asked.
For the first time since Cas got back, Dean saw him actually smiling, a bright, beautiful grin like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. Cas reached out and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. And Dean leaned forward, and cupped Cas’s face with his hand, and he kissed Cas the way he should’ve done the second he got Cas back from the Empty.
They got their dates. Dean took Cas to the movies and dinner and the butterfly conservatory and on hikes. He didn’t tell Sam or Eileen or Jack, citing the excuse of ‘teaching Cas to be human’ when he and Cas split off from the group after a successful hunt, but he was pretty sure they all knew anyway. He didn’t think Sam missed the way that Cas’s bedroom had sat untouched for the last few weeks, and he didn’t think they missed the way their hands always seemed to gravitate towards each other on hunts or during movie nights, and he especially didn’t think they missed the way both he and Cas were smiling more.
Jack was the first one to say anything about it. They were watching some nature documentary Jack had picked out. Cas and Dean were sitting on the couch, their fingers interlocked under the blanket they were sharing, a bowl of popcorn in Dean’s lap. Jack was sitting on the ground below them, absorbed completely in the nature footage.
“We should go to the zoo. I think you guys would like the penguins,” Jack said, matter-of-factly.
Dean exchanged a confused glance with Cas. “Why penguins?”
“I was reading about how two male penguins started raising other penguins’ babies as if they were their own. That’s what you guys do, isn’t it?”
Cas had stopped chewing, staring at the back of Jack’s head with a mix of happiness and surprise. He looked at Dean, who leaned forward, ruffling Jack’s hair.
“Yeah, kiddo, I guess it is.” He turned back to Cas, and he leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to Cas’s cheek. The stubble felt rough under his lips, but the sensation was far from unpleasant, especially when it was Cas’s stubble. “Don’t worry, Cas,” he murmured. “I’d still choose you over the penguins every time.”
Cas kicked him under the blanket.
After that, he didn’t bother hiding the fact that he and Cas were boyfriends now. Well, he wasn’t entirely sure if ‘boyfriends’ was the right word or not. Cas didn’t seem to understand most terms of endearment– Dean got a confused squint with a head tilt thrown in for good measure every time he tried to drop ‘sweetheart’ or ‘babe’-- but when Dean asked him about it, his response was ‘whatever you want, Dean’.
“What about ‘honey’?” Dean asked. He was “teaching Cas how to cook” as part of the whole learning-to-be-human thing, which normally meant Cas stood next to the microwave and held Dean’s hand as Dean attempted to flip an omelet one-handed.
Cas wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think honey would go well with eggs, Dean.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “No, I mean as a pet name.” He corrected himself, “Honey is a term of endearment when you’re dating someone. And, well…” He wasn’t sure why saying it out loud for the first time seemed so intimidating. After Cas died because he loved Dean, it wasn’t like Cas was going to suddenly decide that he didn’t want to date Dean. “...we’re dating, so how do you feel about me calling you ‘honey’?”
Dean switched off the stove burner, setting aside the omelet pan. When he looked back up at Cas, his eyebrows were pinched in concentration, as if whether or not he liked Dean calling him ‘honey’ was a serious question.
“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” Dean said quickly. “I just thought…it’s a thing normal human couples do.”
“Do you want to be a normal human couple?” Cas asked. Despite how well Dean knew him, knew every inch of his body and all the little gestures he made when he was happy or sad or nervous or scared, Dean still couldn’t read the guarded expression on Cas’s face. “Because I expect there might be some…challenges with that. For one, I don’t believe we could ever get married, as I was born long before this country existed.”
“Jesus, Cas, I’m not talking about getting married. Yet,” Dean said, doing his best to laugh. “It’s not that serious. Unless you want it to be serious.”
Cas squinted at him again, as if analyzing his words, searching for the right answer. Dean sighed.
“You’re doing it again,” Dean said softly. When he wanted to teach Cas cooking, he hadn’t meant for it to all spiral into an existential conversation about their relationship. This thing between him and Cas was always supposed to be natural, easy. And it was, until Dean started second-guessing everything he did and Cas started being cagey about what he really wanted in case Dean decided to kick him out for it.
“Doing what?”
Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He took Cas’s hand, pressing light kisses to each knuckle, delighting in the pink flush that spread over Cas’s cheeks. “Holding back on me. Not letting yourself have what you want.” He moved on to the other hand. “You can have this, you know.”
“I don’t want to overstep my boundaries,” Cas admitted quietly.
Guilt burned in Dean’s stomach, searing memories of all the times he’d kicked Cas out, left him behind, sent him away. He’d told himself that once he got Cas back, he’d never let him go, for as long as Cas wanted to stay. It hurt that Cas still didn’t seem to get the message after four weeks, but Dean didn’t exactly blame him for it.
“You won’t,” Dean said. “I want what you want, remember? I want this, I want you, and I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” Cas said, a smile pulling at his lips. He leaned in, then stopped, his lips inches from Dean’s. “We should eat those omelets before they get cold.”
“We should,” Dean agreed, even as he made no attempt to move away, his eyes still fixated on Cas’s lips.
“You’re not moving.”
“Neither are you. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Cas huffed. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“You’re my boyfriend, Cas,” Dean said. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” Cas’s voice was deep and gravelly, and Dean could practically feel Cas’s body heat radiating through him, sending a swarm of warmth straight to his gut. “I want to kiss you all the time.”
“That’s good. I want you to kiss me all the time.”
“We can microwave the omelets,” Cas decided.
And then, for the first time since he’d gotten back from the Empty, Cas kissed Dean first, tugging him down by the collar and smashing their lips together. It was different from their other kisses, with Cas’s hands roaming Dean’s body like he’d die if they stopped touching. Dean let himself be pulled along by Cas to their bedroom, a small part of him worried that Sam would see them in the hallway but most of him too drunk on the feeling of Cas’s lips and Cas’s hands and Cas to care.
Cas pushed him back on the bed, shutting the door behind them, and Dean was more than happy to take whatever Cas was willing to give him, he always was, because this was way better than being too scared to ask Cas to stay and fighting with Cas every chance he got because he was mad that Cas left him behind.
The omelets were still sitting on the kitchen counter when they emerged from their shared bedroom an hour or two later.
Sam didn’t say anything, but he did look pointedly from the omelets to Dean’s stupid grin to the way Cas hadn’t let go of his hand. “You two look happy.”
And, yeah, Dean was, and he hoped Cas was, and he hoped everything could stay this happy forever. He figured they’d earned it. And the omelets didn’t taste too bad after a minute in the microwave.
"You never did give me an answer on the 'honey' thing," Dean said through a mouthful of egg.
"I think I would prefer to hear you say my name," Cas replied.
"I knew I could teach you how to talk dirty," Dean said, sending Cas a salacious wink.
Sam looked like he wanted to whack Dean over the head with the ancient lore book he was reading. "So glad you're happy," he grumbled.