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Dean hadn’t given much thought to what Mildred said, not until the moment he saw Cas in the Bunker. His hair was adorably rumpled as he stood surrounded by papers and presumably cursed artifacts, his signature trench coat hanging loose off his frame.
Dean's heart skipped a beat in his chest, seizing with unbearable fondness, and he was speaking before he could even think through the words. “Do you wanna go watch the sunset with me?”
When Cas turned around, his smile was almost dazzling. “That sounds nice, Dean.”
He packed a cooler of beer– even though he was pretty sure Cas still couldn’t get drunk, he needed something to hold as he made up excuses to stare at how the fading light illuminated his best friend’s face– and took Cas out for a drive, parking the Impala in a grassy field a mile or two away from the Bunker. They hadn’t spoken much on the drive over, letting Led Zeppelin fill the silence. Dean’s hands were sweaty as they gripped onto the steering wheel, mind running with a million ways to excuse this behavior as something completely non-romantic.
But Cas didn’t ask for an explanation, he seemed quite content to sit in shotgun without any kind of “no homo” or “you’re like a brother to me, buddy”, so Dean didn’t dare risk opening his mouth in case something else came tumbling out.
“The sky is so pretty,” Cas murmured, his voice deep and rich, as he followed Dean’s lead and sat on the hood of the Impala.
Dean cracked open the cooler, passing Cas a can, silently wishing he’d at least thought to spring for the good stuff before leaving. Cas took it without complaint, sipping it slowly. He was staring up at the sky, the blues in his eyes reflecting the deep reds and oranges of the setting sun.
Dean had been right, he thought, the beer doing nothing to lodge the lump in his throat. Castiel looked gorgeous in the light of the setting sun, the orange light catching on his eyelashes, his lips pink-tinted and slightly parted.
When Cas turned to catch him staring, Dean didn’t even have the decency to look away. Their eyes met, and Dean wondered if Cas heard the tiny hitch in his breath, or the way his heart was thundering in his chest.
Cas’s hand was a pale beacon on the shiny black metal of the Impala, calling Dean home like a lighthouse in a storm. Taking one last sip for courage, Dean’s fingers crossed the few precious inches of distance, settling on top of Cas’s.
Cas smiled. Dean melted.
“It’s nice to have you back, Cas,” Dean said, which didn’t make much sense, because he hadn’t really lost Cas, not recently. And the words did so little to make up for all the times he’d kicked Cas out, made him leave instead of asking him to stay. He should tell Cas he wanted him to stay. He wanted Cas to stay. “And I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you, Dean. And I’m sorry, too.”
Dean looked away, sure his face was as bright red as the sun he was pretending was his reason for doing this. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I forgive you.”
His eyes searched out Cas again, who had seemingly turned his attention back to the sunset. The smile hadn’t faded from Cas’s face, and he hadn’t moved his hand out from underneath Dean’s.
“That’s very nice of you. I’m not sure most people would.”
“Screw most people. You’re family, Cas.”
He resisted the urge to bang his head against the Impala. There he went again, chickening out of saying “I love you” and calling Cas his brother again. He could see Cas tensing beside him, shifting awkwardly, and goddamnit, he should’ve said literally anything else–
“Thank you, Dean.”
More words spilled out before Dean could stop them, tumbling off his tongue. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at saying it out loud. But, Cas, I do…I want…”
He could feel his confidence quickly dissipating, as if being carried away on the slightly chilly evening breeze. He almost wished Cas wasn’t wearing that trench coat, just so Dean could give him his jacket, a gesture that could actually show Cas how much Dean felt for him, how much Dean cared, how much Dean never wanted Cas to leave him again. He opened his mouth, but no words spilled out, and defeat burned in his stomach as he pulled his hand away from Cas’s.
The silence didn’t feel nearly as comforting this time.
“I just wanted to say, I don’t care if you’re an angel or not. I need you, Cas. So just…remember that, okay?” he finished lamely.
The sun had almost finished setting, the dark sky above them freckled with tiny blips of light.
“I’m not entirely sure what your intentions are, here, Dean,” Cas started, sounding just as nervous as Dean felt. “But based on my experience with humans…” Cas swallowed, and Dean tracked the movement with his eyes, not even daring to breathe as he waited for Cas’s words. “...this looks a lot like a date. I don’t know if you intended that.”
Cas was smarter than Dean gave him credit for. Then he thought of why Cas had been forced to learn all the intricacies of being human without him, and a fresh wave of guilt drowned out the butterflies in his stomach.
“You mean you can’t pick up on my longing?” Dean asked, because a dry one-liner was easier than something actually soft and vulnerable.
“I may be an angel, but I’m nowhere near full strength,” Cas replied, sounding almost apologetic. “I’m afraid I can’t pick up on your prayers very well.”
Screw it. Even if Dean didn’t deserve Cas like this, Cas deserved to know. He picked up Cas’s hand, tangling their fingers together, forcing Cas to meet his gaze. He leaned in, letting his eyes drift purposefully downward to Cas’s lips before flicking back up to Cas’s eyes.
“What about now?” Dean asked, voice slightly husky. The desire in his chest began to boil, and his skin burned pink where it was in contact with Cas’s, tingles racing down his spine. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone in so long, if he ever did.
The resigned sadness was steadily draining from Cas’s face, lightness returning to his eyes and his smile. “May I kiss you, Dean?”
Dean couldn’t nod fast enough. He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, not that it really mattered, because nothing mattered except for the sweet pressure of Cas’s lips against his, gentle and warm and chapped and perfect. Cas’s hand had landed on his arm, and Dean’s fingers were tangled in Cas’s hair when it wasn’t gripping onto the fabric of Cas’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Screw the Bunker, screw the motels, screw the white picket fence and hitting dogs and apple pie, this was what home was supposed to feel like, safe and warm and sweet and perfect.
He might’ve never stopped kissing Cas, if not for the fact that his leg jerked and hit the cooler, knocking it over. Dean muttered a curse word, looking at where the cooler had spilled ice and cans all over the yellow-green grass. “Sorry, I knew I’d find some way to screw this up.”
“It’s okay, Dean.” Cas slid off the hood of the Impala, joining Dean in picking up the scattered beer cans. “There’ll be other sunsets.”
“Yeah?” Dean looked up, and Cas’s face was suddenly so close that Dean swore he could feel Cas breathing. “Promise?”
“I promise.” Cas’s hand was ice-cold as he tangled his fingers with Dean’s. Dean’s eyes flickered down to Cas’s lips. Knowing how Cas’s lips felt against his did nothing to calm the simmering want in Dean’s chest. If anything, it only added fuel to the fire, until Dean was sure he needed to kiss Cas as much as he needed to breathe. “You can have as many sunsets as you want.”
Dean wanted them all. He leaned in again, and somehow, kissing Cas felt even sweeter the second time.
“I love you,” Dean choked out, and it felt good to say the words, and it felt even nicer to see the gummy smile that spread over Cas’s face. He looked so beautiful.
“I love you too, Dean.”
Their fingers were still tightly wound together when they made it back to the Bunker.