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Dean clears his throat, and he can hear his father’s voice in his head, reeking of alcohol and anger. “When Dad disappeared, Sam and I looked around, and something became very clear. That the only thing we had in this world– the only thing, aside from this car– was each other.”
Mary makes a small noise of agreement. For a moment, the only sound is the thunder booming outside and the faint music coming from the radio. And then, she clears her throat and asks, “But that isn’t true anymore, is it? I mean, you’ve got Castiel.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Dean replies, thinking of Cas, and Crowley, and Rowena. They didn’t stop the Apocalypse themselves, after all.
“Have you and Cas ever talked about leaving hunting, settling down together?”
Something churns in Dean’s stomach at that, and he can feel Mary’s prickling gaze on him. He’s already dreading where he thinks the conversation is going, and he pretends his throat isn’t dry and his heartbeat isn’t racing as he says, “Why would me and Cas settle down?”
“Because he’s your boyfriend.”
Dean’s fingers clench tight around the steering wheel to prevent himself from crashing. He keeps his eyes locked on the road in front of him, not daring to glance over at his mom. “My what ?”
Dean didn’t do boyfriends. He didn’t even do one-night stands with men. He isn’t sure how Mary found about his attraction to guys, much less guys who look like holy accountants, because he’s never told anyone about it, not Sam or Cas or Bobby and especially not John. This isn’t even the first time he and Cas have been mistaken for a couple, but it’s different when it’s coming from his mom, someone who knows him. He can’t just brush off the accusations, because they’d only cling tighter to him.
But when Mary speaks again, it’s not angry or disgusted, it’s…light, teasing. Like she doesn’t care that Dean might want to date a man, as long as he’s happy. The thought of her acceptance almost feels too good to be true, like Dean should be throwing holy water at her and saying ‘Christo’.
“Castiel, the angel. He told me you two have been together for eight years. That’s a long time.”
She almost sounds proud, which almost makes Dean feel guilty for letting her down by telling her the truth.
“Cas misunderstood you.” He’ll have to have a conversation with Cas about that later, something he isn’t looking forward to. It will be one of those conversations that creep too closely to the locked safe in Dean’s chest for comfort, and he prays (not literally, of course) that Cas’s rusty people skills extend to him not being able to tell when the guy in front of him is stupidly in love with him. “He’s been helping us for eight years, but we’re not dating.”
“Oh,” Mary says, her grin faltering. “But would you like to be dating him?”
“I– it’s not–” He chokes on the words, his face burning. Part of him wants to reach over and turn up the radio until he can’t hear her anymore. Another part of him, bright and feisty, is still fighting for him to say the words he never thought he’d get to. “He’s an angel, Mom.” His voice is pathetically soft. “Could he even…feel that way? About someone like me?”
There had been so many times that he’d let Cas down, let Cas walk out, let Cas die and lose everything. Cas had thought he was worthy and righteous when he pulled Dean out of Hell. But that was eight years ago, eight years filled to the brim with selfish choices and unspoken gratitude and the Mark of Cain. What if Dean had messed things up, lost his chance, just like he’d done with every other good thing in his life?
“From what I’ve seen, Castiel isn’t a very good angel.”
Dean’s ready to spit out something angry and defensive before he picks up the pointed, playful undertone in her voice. He relaxes, trying to think of the road in front of him and not the angel who’d pulled Dean from Hell in more ways than one.
“So you’re saying you think I have a chance?” He chuckles weakly. He feels stupid even saying it. Cas is Cas, there’s no way he’d ever settle for Dean.
“You’ve told me what he’s done for you. I’m saying that people don’t do all that unless they’re in love, brotherly or otherwise.”
“Yeah, well, you’re right about one thing. Cas isn’t a good angel, he’s the best.”
When it comes to talking to girls, Dean Winchester doesn’t get nervous. But right now, standing in Cas’s doorway, sweaty hands stuffed in his pockets and Cas’s inquisitive gaze staring into him, Dean Winchester was freaking terrified.
In the few days since his conversation with his mom, Dean couldn’t help but think– daydream, really– about what it would be like to actually date Cas, anytime he stood too close to Dean or did that adorable frown of his or just plain existed. He hadn’t dared broach the topic of “when you said ‘we’ve been together for eight years’ my mom thought we were dating”, because he knows any conversation like that should end with “but I wouldn’t mind dating you” and he just can’t work up the courage to say that yet.
Cas deserves to hear it, though, he tells himself. Even if Cas never likes him back, he still deserves to know.
“Dean? Can I help you with something?” Cas asks, when the silence drags on.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Really? He’d spent twenty minutes scripting this out in the mirror, and now he couldn’t speak? What was wrong with him? What was so hard about this?
I want you to stay. I need you. I love you. He just has to say it.
"Thank you," Dean says finally. "For everything. I don't think I've ever said it, but you deserve to hear it."
"Is that all?"
Is it? Dean's throat is dry. The butterflies are waging war in his stomach. He thinks he might collapse, but he's paralyzed under the weight of Cas's blue stare.
“Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?” Dean asks, as if Cas was the one awkwardly hovering in his doorway. “Because I’m here, man, if you ever need to talk.” As if that totally made up for his awkward hovering.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine.” And then, just to prove it, Dean retreats from the doorway with every intention of getting drunk on terrible beer until he’s got the liquid courage to slur a confession at Cas.
But he stops himself a few feet into that mission. Cas deserves to hear it, and he should hear it sober. And he deserves to hear it now, before he can chicken out again.
“My mom thinks we’re dating,” Dean blurts out, eyes squeezed tight as if not seeing Cas makes it seem like he’s just talking to the mirror again.
Cas doesn’t respond. Dean turns around, taking up his usual post in Cas’s doorway, fidgeting with his hands. He almost wishes he would’ve brought his gun, just so his hands could do something other than show off how nervous he really is, but bringing any kind of gun would’ve send the wrong message.
“I see,” Cas says finally, face and tone impassive. There’s a beat, and Dean finds himself praying that some horrible new beast will suddenly storm the Bunker. He can almost image the beauty of the flashing red lights now. “Did I do something to give her that impression?”
“Yes.” God, now Cas probably thinks Dean is homophobic, or something. Great job, Winchester. “I mean– sort of. When she asked you how long we were together, she meant, like, romantically together.”
“Oh.” Cas isn’t even looking at him right now. Maybe Dean really should go out and get a drink, because with every minute Dean spends in this conversation, he feels like he’s actively deflating. “I’m sorry for giving her the wrong impression, then. I will go and tell her–”
“No, it’s okay,” Dean says quickly. Cas sits down on the bed from where he’d started to stand up, looking at Dean with expectant eyes. “I just…I mean, I just wanted to tell you that when people talk about getting together, it’s romantic.”
“Thank you, I suppose.”
Just say it, Winchester. It’s just words. You’ve said words before.
“It’s not that I’m ashamed of the fact that she thought we were dating,” Dean says, and it’s still not an I love you but it’s better than leaving without saying anything.
“Dean, I understand,” Cas cuts him off, before Dean can insert a third foot into his mouth.
Dean almost laughs. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t even understand himself. “No, I don’t think you do, because I had a whole plan coming in here and it jumped out the window the moment I saw you. I know I’ve screwed this up already, and I’m sorry, and I’m trying to say the words, and I…”
I love you I love you I–
“You’re family, Cas.”
Damnit.
“I don’t mind the idea of dating you.” He can’t stop the words from escaping. Dean’s starting to consider joining his brain in jumping out the window.
But Cas is smiling as he stands up, making slow steps towards Dean as if giving him the chance to escape, a sudden air of confidence around him, and Dean wonders if maybe the message got across anyway, despite his fumbling and rambling.
“Mary already thought we were dating before she asked me about it,” Cas reminds Dean.
He reaches forward fingers curling around Dean’s shirt collar as he straightens it out for Dean, and Dean’s fairly certain he lets out a tiny whimper as Cas’s warm hands pull away from his chest.
“I assumed you and her both had picked up on feelings for you, but I’m starting to believe it wasn’t my feelings she noticed.”
Cas looks up at Dean and Dean forgets how to breathe because Cas’s lips are inches away from his, slightly chapped but no less inviting.
“Thank me again.” Cas’s voice is a low purr in his ear, and Dean is surprised he’s still standing by himself.
“Thank you, Cas.”
Cas tugs Dean down by the shirt collar and places a soft, lingering kiss on Dean’s cheek. “You’re welcome.”
Dean barely registers the words, or the way Cas brushes past him to leave the room, too lost in the phantom warmth radiating from his cheek, as if Cas’s lips had left a physical brand there.
“Wait!” Dean says as soon as his brain catches up. He turns to face Cas, who’s got a smirk on his face. What a dick. “I love you.”
“I know,” Cas replies. “We’re family, remember?”
“You’re a dick.”
Dean half-expects Cas to walk away, play hard to get. Instead, Cas moves closer to Dean, more occupied with staring at Dean’s lips than leaving. And when Cas gets close enough, Dean can’t help but reach out and cup Cas’s cheek, swallowing the sudden dryness in his mouth.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Cas says, and Dean’s heart skips a beat. Screw the greasy diner food, if anything takes out Dean’s heart, it’ll be Cas.
“Go on a date with me.” It’s less a question and more a plea.
“I’d love to,” Cas says, and he looks so beautiful when he smiles like that, eyes sparkling and crinkled at the edges, that Dean thinks he might just fall in love all over again.
Dean leans in first, eyes fluttering shut as his lips slot perfectly against Cas’s. A strange sense of belonging settles onto Dean’s chest, warm and bright and like finally coming home after a long week.
The kiss might’ve lasted a few minutes or a few hours; Dean’s far too lost in the feeling of Cas’s warm, rough hands on his waist and the taste of his lips, sweet and slightly minty. When he pulls away, staring into Cas’s eyes, head still spinning with the glittering sensation of it all, he wonders how he ever could’ve thought of this as wrong.
“Guess Mom was right about something.” He desperately wants to kiss Cas again, but he thinks if he starts now, he might never stop. “What do you think about dinner and a movie? That’s a classic date thing.”
Cas takes Dean’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “That sounds perfect.”
“You should get a memory foam mattress,” Dean murmurs into Cas’s bare shoulder, still blinking away the sleep from his eyes.
Cas chuckles, and Dean can feel the rumble of it echoing in his own chest. “I didn’t realize you disliked my bed so much.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘dislike’.” Dean leans forward, pressing tiny kisses that trail up the side of Cas’s neck, enjoying the pale pink blush that spreads over Cas’s face as he does so. “There are some perks.”
It was by some stroke of luck that neither Sam nor Mary had walked in on Cas and Dean’s movie date in the Bunker, nor had they walked in on them stumbling from the couch to Cas’s bedroom while Cas showed Dean what the “pizza man” taught him.
Dean had fully intended to be a gentleman about this whole thing with Cas, but, well, Cas certainly hadn’t been complaining, and they didn’t make it much further than frantic kisses and cuddling so Dean figured that was good enough.
Phase two of “don’t screw this up”, of course, includes being open about it with Sam and Mary– because Cas is freaking gorgeous and Dean’s going to show off his boyfriend, damnit– which is how he justifies making no move to hide the fact that he’s got hickeys running down his neck, or the fact that Cas is wearing one of his shirts. They enter the Bunker’s kitchen side by side, fingers brushing against each other.
Mary sees them first, grinning as her eyes flicker between them, and Dean smiles back.
“You look happy,” Sam snorts, raising his eyebrows as he looks up from his breakfast.
“Yeah, that’s all Cas’s fault.” Dean clears his throat. “By the way, I’m bisexual.”
It’s the first time he’s ever spoken the words out loud. He’s always assumed he’d be scared– terrified, really– but instead it just feels…right. Like he can finally take a deep breath after nearly drowning.
Mary’s grin widens as Sam nearly chokes to death on his coffee. He looks up at Dean again, and Dean can see the exact moment he’s realizing what’s happening. Really, if Mary could pick up on it in a matter of days, then Sam has no excuse looking this surprised.
“Oh,” Sam says eloquently. “So you and Cas are…”
“Dating?” Dean supplies. He laces his fingers together with Cas’s, holding them up to show Sam. “Yeah.”
To Dean’s relief, Sam just smiles. “Good. I’m happy for you.”
Dean takes a seat, not letting go of Cas’s hand. He meets Mary’s eyes again, and for once, he can imagine a future outside of hunting– him and Cas, in a house with a picket fence and a dog and maybe even a kid, at peace after years of fighting and running.
Dean doesn’t think he could stop smiling, even if he wanted to. “Yeah, me too.”