Work Text:
“It’s nice you’re still hunting,” Sam said, in a low voice. “I guess I just always thought you’d settle down.”
They were sitting in two of the dark blue lawn chairs that were scattered around Jody’s backyard. The whole pseudo-family barbeque was Jody’s idea, an unofficial celebration of them defeating Chuck and taking control of their own destinies. It was also the first time Dean had seen his brother in person since he and Eileen moved across the country, with Sam setting out to pursue a law degree.
“Settle down?” Dean snorted, taking a sip of beer. It was ice cold and much better than what he was used to drinking back at the Bunker; Jody really thought of everything. “I have settled down. I have a dog, Sam. You want me to build a picket fence, too?”
Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Dean was still a hunter, even if he was halfway to retirement with how old his body felt like it was getting.
“When’s the last time you went on a real date? What, Lisa and Ben?”
Dean couldn’t stifle the laugh that escaped his mouth. He did a double take when he saw the creased look of Sam’s eyebrows, the twitch of his mouth. “Wait, are you serious? You want me to get a wife and kids and a house in the suburbs?”
Sam shrugged. “Why not? I mean, you can’t keep hunting forever. Maybe it’s time you and Cas both moved on, is all I’m saying.”
Dean stood up abruptly. “I’m going to check if Jody needs help in the kitchen.”
A week later, and those words were still playing on repeat in Dean’s head. As he moved around the Bunker, cooking meals and watching movies with Cas and helping nearby hunters and cataloging cursed objects, he couldn’t stop thinking about them.
It wasn’t like Cas had moved on, Dean told himself stubbornly, as he applied a fresh round of sudsy water to Baby’s gleaming exterior. Of course, it hadn’t exactly escaped his notice that everyone else besides Cas had seemed to move on from De– from hunting. There was Sam and Eileen, of course, but there was Jack, too– after some very good fakes, he and Cas had gotten Jack enrolled at a small college a few hours north, so he could get at least some formal education. Bobby had moved back to South Dakota– with the rest of the Apocalypse world hunters following his lead and spreading out all over the country– and even though he’d told Sam and Dean that his door was always open, it wasn’t like Bobby would check in on them. It wasn’t like this was the Bobby that damn near raised them while their father was off chasing his revenge.
Dean was proud of Sammy, of Jack. But that didn’t mean he still didn’t miss him. And he especially didn’t miss how empty the Bunker seemed to become in their absence.
Of course, it wasn’t totally empty. There was always Cas. Dean was always with Cas these days, from the minute they got Cas back from the Empty. The confession hadn’t seemed to change much between them, which Dean was grateful for. He’d tried to bring it up, once, but Cas had shut him down, saying with a bittersweet sort of smile that he didn’t expect reciprocation.
It was an out. Dean took it, maybe a little cowardly, but he was pretty sure Cas didn’t want to hear the words “I don’t love you like that” any more than Dean wanted to say them.
(Dean could never work himself up to say those words, anyway, even while practicing in the mirror before Cas ever got back, wearing the jacket with the bloody handprint. He’s still got that jacket, stuffed in his closet, the blood long since faded to brown.)
Things changed between them, obviously, but it wasn’t because of the love confession. Dean was pretty sure it was his fault, too– the “I’m glad your back” hug turned into more of a daily thing, when no one else was around, when it was late at night and he could blame it on exhaustion. Cas never seemed to mind– he hugged Dean back, he sat pressed close to Dean on the couch during their movie nights so their thighs brushed, he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder when he needed to get Dean’s attention.
Then Sam left, and Jack moved into his college dorm room, and suddenly, nothing was stopping Dean from reaching over and pulling Cas close whenever he wanted.
The sleeping in the same bed thing would’ve been hard to explain, too, if Sam and Jack were still here. But it was pretty simple to Dean– they both had nightmares, they both appreciated having another person around to break up the endless, droning silence of the empty Bunker at night. It was basically just like a really long hug between two best friends, nothing weird about it. Hell, having Cas with him was even better than keeping a gun under his pillow (something he’d stopped doing, after Cas said it was uncomfortable).
I always thought you'd settle down, Sam had said.
Dean washed the dishes almost mindlessly, his soapy fingers brushing against Cas's as he handed off the plates. Maybe Sam had a point. He and Cas were hunting, sure, but cases were few and far between now that they had both a network of hunters and Chuck wasn't gunning for them. Maybe it was time.
"You ever think about settling down, Cas?"
Cas hesitated, as if he was trying to hide his reaction at all. "What do you mean?"
"Y'know, like move out of the Bunker, find a wife-- or a husband, I guess. Retire from hunting. Settle down."
Cas resumed his drying, the methodical movements of the white hand towel moving across the surface of the plate almost hypnotizing. "No, I don't think so."
"Why not?" Dean had plenty of issues-- Lisa and Ben taught him that. He'd never really be able to shake the anger and paranoia he inherited from his father. But Cas? If Dean ever did settle down, Cas would be the exact kind of person he would do it with.
Cas stopped drying completely, looking up at Dean with the same kind of soft gaze he gave Dean the day Sam left.
( "You could leave, if you wanted. I won't stop you." "There's no place I'd rather be, Dean." )
“I think it would be best if I did not answer that. I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”
Dean’s mouth went dry. Feeling vaguely ashamed of himself, he ducked his head, gazing once more down at the swirling depths of the sink. This was Cas’s home, too– or, Dean wanted it to be, but when had that ever been the same thing?-- and he deserved to be comfortable.
“You ain’t gotta spare my feelings,” Dean said. “Just say it.”
“I can never settle down with a husband because no one will ever compare to you.”
Dean froze. Cas’s words hung in the air, floating like dust particles in a sunbeam, impossible to get rid of as they coated Dean’s shoulders. He didn’t dare meet Cas’s eyes, though he could feel Cas’s stare boring holes into him as if Cas could see right into his soul.
Cas was still an angel, Dean reminded himself. He probably could see Dean’s soul right now– every crack, every flaw, every dark and tarnished spot. And yet.
“Me? Cas, I’m–” The words were dying on his tongue faster than his brain could come up with new ones. “I know what you said, but I’m not– I’m–”
“Dean.” There was a hand on Dean’s arm– gentle, hesitant, warm from the water. Dean fell silent, his breath catching as he met Cas’s gaze. There was a spark in his eyes that was almost comfortingly teasing. “I know what you’re going to say, and I can’t let you demean the man I love.”
“Okay,” Dean said, frozen in place, swallowing like he was desperate to win an eating competition. “I– okay.”
The original confession may not have changed much, but the one in the kitchen did. Dean couldn’t quite explain it, but sometimes he just looked at Cas, and Cas looked back with a heart-wrenchingly soft look in his eyes, and Cas never said it again, but Dean could hear it, anyways, in Cas’s gruff voice– I love you, Dean.
I just always thought you’d settle down. When was the last time you went on a real date? Lisa and Ben?
Funny Sam said that, because right now, Cas looked at Dean a lot like Lisa used to.
After all, it was one thing for a love confession like that to be given in the heat of the moment, while they were running for their lives and a big, grand, sweeping gesture of happiness was the only way to save Dean’s life. Hell, there was a reason “last night on Earth” was Dean’s best line. But it was a whole nother thing for Cas to confess again, and again, and again, in every soft look and gentle touch.
Here lies Dean Winchester , Dean thought, feeling almost hysterical, beloved brother and the man Castiel loved . There were worse headstones to have.
He and Cas were sitting on the firm leather couch in one of the Bunker’s relaxation rooms. With how many rooms they kept finding at just the right time, Dean was wondering if the Bunker was sentient, or something. Thoughts like that inevitably lead to Dean wondering what the Bunker would think of him. And thoughts like that lead straight to the sudsy memory of Cas laying a hand on Dean’s arm and saying, I can’t let you demean the man I love.
Even if the Bunker was somehow magically sentient and also hated him, Dean was sure Cas would defend him, at least. And of course, there was no world where Dean could imagine the Bunker hating Cas. Who could?
They were watching some kind of nature documentary– or, more accurately, Cas was watching it, and Dean was sitting through it because it was better than being alone, and Cas never complained when Dean made him watch the same cowboy movie for the hundredth time, so Dean figured Cas deserved a little reciprocation. Whatever reciprocation Dean could give him.
“You look tired,” Cas murmured, catching Dean trying to hide his yawn.
Cas’s arm was draped over the back of the couch, and if Dean leaned into his touch, well, who was around to judge him?
“I’m fine,” Dean replied, before pointedly shutting his mouth before another yawn could escape. “I’m getting my four hours.”
“Humans need more than four hours of sleep a day, Dean.”
There it was again, those soft “I love you” eyes. The ones that made Dean squirm inside for trying to hide anything from Cas.
“We have the exact same sleep schedule, Cas,” Dean tried instead. And it was true– Dean could barely sleep until Cas crawled under the covers with him, and as quiet as Cas tried to be when he left their bed, Dean always woke up when that steady warmth was gone, just in time to watch Cas leave.
(He’d asked Cas one morning where he went. Apparently, Cas enjoyed watching the sunrise.)
“I’m still an angel,” Cas replied. “I need less sleep than you do.”
“Why d’you need sleep at all, anyway?” Dean asked, eager to latch onto any conversation topic that wasn’t his terrible sleep schedule. A little too eager, though, judging by the way Cas’s face fell slightly. “I’m not judging you or anything. It’s nice to have someone else to cook for. But I mean, being human is…well, it can’t be nearly as good as being a full-blown angel, with all the power that comes with that. I’m sure Jack would’ve restored you to full power if you asked– I mean, why settle for worse?”
“Urinating is very tiresome,” Cas said, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m not settling for anything, Dean. I chose this.”
“Why? I mean, what do you get out of all of this?”
“Is it really that surprising to think I enjoy human comforts? I wouldn’t be able to taste food if I was still a fully powered angel, just molecules. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. After everything I did–”
“Most of that wasn’t you, Cas,” Dean said automatically. “You don’t need to do penance, or whatever. Anything bad you did, you’ve more than made up for it.”
“I believe that you believe that.”
Dean snorted. “You should know by now that I’m always right.”
He settled back against the couch, letting himself get absorbed into the narrator’s description of the mating habits of bees wash over him. He stifled another yawn. He was tired. His side felt comfortably warm where Cas was pressed up against him, and he shifted again, his head dangerously close to falling onto Cas’s shoulder.
“This isn’t penance, is it?” Dean asked, quietly, barely audible over the TV.
It had always felt like it was, with Lisa. Even if she said she loved him, the words were a rickety rope bridge over the dark chasm of everything Lisa knew about him. He was a traumatized little hero when he showed up on her doorstep, and even if she loved him, even if that rope bridge held strong– it wasn’t like Lisa had come to him, or chased after him when he left. Not that he would have expected her to or wanted her to, but it made a guy wonder how much trauma helped in that relationship.
“No,” Cas said, and there was enough of a smile in his voice that Dean believed him. “No, this is just what makes me happy.”
How could Cas even say that? Dean knew what would make Cas happy. It was a real relationship, with kisses and anniversary presents and sappy love confessions, not whatever this was. Dean was basically using the guy, and what was Cas getting out of it? The pain of almost having something, but never quite being able to get it?
Dean didn’t speak, but apparently Cas could read his thoughts, anyway.
“You didn’t listen very well to what I said, did you? My happiness isn’t in having, it’s just in being. I like being here with you.”
“In my defense, I was more preoccupied with realizing my best friend was about to die to save me.” He licked his lips, watching Cas out of the corner of his eye. He swallowed. God, he felt pathetic. “Maybe you should…say it again.”
“The whole speech?”
The bastard was really going to make him ask, wasn’t he? “No, just the last part. The important part.”
“Of course.” Cas leaned over, planting a light kiss on Dean’s temple that made his skin buzz, like Cas had just healed him from the inside out. “I love you, Dean.”
Me too, Dean wanted to say, but not like that. But saying that felt too painful.
“I freaking hate witches.”
Dean looked down at the guy who’d attacked him, relieved to see he was still breathing. Cas had been the one to catch wind of a case over in Ohio, and Dean had seen too many nature documentaries to say no to a case.
People all over town were falling in love. On the car ride over, Dean said he wished it was anything other than a Cupid. As soon as he started coughing up a lung until Cas found the hex bag tucked into Baby’s tire well, Dean realized the meaning of "be careful what you wish for". The Cupid almost seemed appealing (until he remembered that he'd have to be naked-hugged-- and then watch Cas get naked-hugged).
And now, any time they could even get close to a witch, there was always some guy throwing himself in their path, declaring their eternal love for Magdalene the witch. He and Cas had been doing their best to take the guys down without fatally harming them, which only further slowed their process of going after the witch.
Cas bent down, retrieving the hex bag from the man’s jacket pocket. Dean clicked his lighter, taking a small amount of satisfaction while watching the orange flames lick up the witch’s work. When Sweatervest Guy down there woke up, he’d have no memory of the woman he was about to die for.
Wait. The witch had been going after normal guys, but could she– “We won’t be affected by the love spells, will we?”
Cas frowned. “There is a chance that I would be immune, between me being an angel and me being in love with you. But if the witch gets close enough to plant a hex bag in your pocket, then, yes, you would succumb to it.”
Dean cringed just at the thought. He still vividly remembered the last time he was under a love potion, put on him by some witch that was working with Rowena. It was like a lightning strike hit him as he looked on the witch, and all of a sudden, the world felt brighter and he would’ve done anything to make her happy.
Those feelings were far from the passion he’d felt for Lisa or Cassie, and it was even further from the deep-seated, simmering affection he felt for Cas. But then again, why would his feelings for Cas ever compare to those he felt under a love potion whose whole intention was to create romantic feelings?
It wasn't something Dean had ever considered before, but...he knew Cas loved him. But what did it feel like? When did Cas know?
Of course, that wasn’t really the kind of thing you could just ask someone, was it? But then again, after their conversation in the kitchen, Cas seemed very transparent with his feelings– the happiness was in the being and saying, or whatever that meant. So maybe Cas would be just fine in answering that question.
Dean wasn’t sure why he was so curious. It was probably just the witch and her whole love spell obsession rubbing off on him.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to shoot her on sight so she never gets the chance.”
Dean couldn’t have been happier when he ended up putting a bullet in the witch’s skull without ever feeling that lightning strike. Cas helped him load up Baby and just like that, they were back on the road, speeding down two-lane highways while music blared.
Dean reached over and turned the music up to distract himself from the storm clouds he could see gathering on the horizon.
When they returned from the witch hunt, the door to the garage had been left ajar. Dean cut the engine, watching the inside for any signs of movement.
“We didn’t leave that open, did we?” he murmured to Cas.
Cas shook his head. “Did Sam or Jack say anything about dropping by?”
“Not that I heard.”
He climbed out of the car, his hand already on his gun. There were plenty of hunters who might be in there, who knew where the spare key was hidden. But most of them would’ve at least said something.
Exchanging looks, Dean and Cas entered the Bunker through the garage door, slipping in as quietly as possible. The concrete hallways were empty, but Dean could hear voices drifting through from the kitchen.
With one last glance to make sure Cas was still following him, Dean opened the door to the kitchen, and–
“Put the gun down, it’s just me,” Claire said, standing in front of the fridge, looking entirely too unfazed at the prospect of a gun being pointed at her.
"Claire?" Cas said, "What are you doing here?"
Claire looked at them, a sudden nervousness peeking through her stormy features. "I thought you said I could drop by whenever.”
Cas’s eyes flickered to Dean, a silent plea for Dean to be bailed out. “Yes, of course you’re welcome, we just didn’t realize you were coming.”
Claire shrugged, choosing a leftover hot dog out of a Tupperware container (seriously, if you’d told 26-year-old Dean that in a decade and a half he’d own multiple Tupperware containers, he would’ve splashed you with holy water) and closing the fridge. “Kaia and I were just finishing up a case in North Carolina, figured we’d stop here on our way to Jody.”
“Kaia?” Dean echoed, looking around as if expecting the teenager to suddenly appear. “So you and Kaia have been hunting together, alone?”
Claire rolled her eyes so hard that Dean suddenly understood why Cas was so afraid of her. “You’re worse than Jody. We’re fine. We’re using protection and everything.”
Dean frowned. “Protection like salt and silver or protection like–”
“I think that’s enough,” Cas said, looking vaguely sick by the prospect of talking about Claire and sex. Though, by the expression on Claire’s face, she was just as relieved for the interruption. “Are you and Kaia staying for dinner?”
Claire and Kaia ended up staying for dinner (Dean was making burgers, one of Cas’s personal favorites as well as the one meal he knew he couldn’t screw up), and staying the night, and staying for breakfast the next morning.
“Did Jody put you up to this?” Claire accused, entering the kitchen with her go bag slung over her shoulder, watching as Dean finished preparing sandwiches for them to take on the road.
“What? No, I haven’t heard from Jody in a week.”
“Oh.” Claire snatched a piece of stray turkey, taking a bite before Dean could so much as glare at her. "Still, I guess it makes sense, you acting like my mom if Cas is gonna act like my dad."
Dean set down the knife he was using to cut slices of tomato. "Cas isn't trying to act like-- wait, what do you mean it makes sense ?"
Claire shrugged. "Y'know, because you and Cas have this whole domestic set-up, and you're dating or whatever."
"Me and Cas aren't dating."
Claire froze with the turkey halfway to her mouth, looking genuinely surprised. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't realize he had rejected you."
Dean forced a scoff. "He didn't-- Cas didn't reject me, I-- well, I'm the one who doesn't feel that way about him."
“Right,” Claire said slowly, staring at Dean as she chewed her stolen piece of turkey.
Dean glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Claire said quickly, straightening up and wiping her hands on her jeans. “I’m gonna go find Kaia. Thanks for the sandwiches.”
Dean was still having dreams about that stupid witch.
Most of them involved Cas being hit with a love potion and fawning, moony-eyed, all over the witch, as she regarded Dean with a self-important little smirk. Half the dreams ended with the witch whisking Cas away, somewhere Dean would never be able to find him even if it wasn’t black goo doing the whisking, and the other half, well, Dean was just forced to watch as the witch asked Cas, all disgustingly simpering and sweet, to kill Dean for her.
But occasionally, on days like tonight apparently, the dreams would take a turn. Where the witch still slipped a hex bag in the pocket of Cas’s trench coat, and Cas’s eyes still took on that pink-tinted appearance as they grew wide and dreamy with lovesick admiration.
Except it wasn’t towards the witch– it was towards Dean. And Dream Cas would sidle up to Dean, all but batting his eyelashes, his voice more of a husky purr than normal, his hand gripping Dean’s arm.
Dean usually woke up pretty shortly after that , mouth dry and eyelids burned with the image of Cas flirting– actually flirting – with Dean.
And as usual, Cas was there, the firm warmth of his chest pressed flush against Dean’s back, his arms loosely wrapped around Dean’s waist, his hair tickling the back of Dean’s neck.
“Nightmare?” Cas guessed, voice husky from sleep and not at all from flirtatious intent. Thankfully. Dean would really hate if the first time Cas flirted with him was because of a stupid witch and her stupid love spell.
“Just a weird dream.”
“What happened? Perhaps your brain was trying to tell you something.”
Dean snorted. “Would be nice if it could actually communicate with me, then.” He adjusted the pillow underneath him, feeling Cas’s arm tighten around his waist. “Pretty sure it wasn’t telling me anything.”
After all, Dean already knew Cas was in love with him, and could flirt with Dean if he wanted to, but didn’t flirt with Dean. What else could Dean’s brain be possibly trying to say?
The next time Dean woke up, it was to the feeling of the familiar, warm weight of Cas’s arm being removed from his side. Even in his sleepy haze, he was pretty sure he made an embarrassing whine at the loss.
“Go back to sleep,” Cas said, softly, briefly raking his fingers through Dean’s hair.
Dean’s eyes were still shut, his body still tucked into the soft blanket of sleepiness, but most of that changed as he heard the door shut. His back was suddenly cold, exposed to the cold breeze of the whirring ceiling fan above him. His eyes were open, already adjusting to the darkness.
Screw it, he thought, throwing off the blanket. If Cas was going to wake up every time Dean had a nightmare or strange dream, then Dean could get out of bed to watch the sunrise with Cas.
He got dressed quickly, still fighting some of the drowsiness. He’d make coffee, but he didn’t want to miss the sunrise. Throwing on a thick flannel and a worn pair of jeans, he slipped out of his room, he headed for the roof access, trying to walk quietly to avoid disturbing Cas’s peace.
It was still mostly dark outside, with the sun only barely starting to creep over the tree-lined horizon, but it was easy for Dean to make out Cas’s shape. He was sitting on the edge of the roof, his knees tucked up to his chest, looking oddly cuddly. Silently, he walked over, sitting down next to Cas.
It was only then that it occurred to Dean that if Cas really wanted Dean to be out here, he would’ve asked. He probably wouldn’t have insisted on Dean going back to sleep. But it was too late now.
Cas extended his knees, his sock-clad foot brushing lightly against Dean’s. Dean turned to meet Cas’s face, lit by the yellow-orange sun.
Ah. Cas was smiling, wide and genuine, like he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. Maybe he did want Dean to follow him up here, after all.
“You didn’t have to come,” Cas said, voice quiet.
Dean shrugged. Skipping the coffee was worth it. “Maybe I just wanted to see what was so great about this view, that you come up here every morning.”
“Yeah?” Cas wasn’t even watching the sunrise anymore. Just Dean. “And how is it?”
“The view?” Dean swallowed, trying to ignore how his next words would sound like a pick-up line. “Pretty great.”
Dean stared at the sun and didn’t say a word as he felt Cas press a soft, light kiss to his temple.
“I thought Metatron put all those stories in your head,” Dean said, looking at Cas’s face. “Did he just, what? Skip the Princess Bride ?”
Cas squinted at him. “Metatron did, but I don’t have every line memorized, unlike you.”
“‘As you wish’ is a classic line from that movie!”
A line that meant “I love you”. Dean wasn’t even sure why he said it. With everything Cas felt, it just seemed insensitive, even if Cas would surely know he meant it in a purely platonic, brotherly way. It was just that Cas had asked him to hand him a jar while they were cataloging cursed objects, and it had just reminded Dean of the scene from the movie. It just slipped out. Dean made movie references all the time, it wasn’t like this was anything special, or meaningful.
“Get the popcorn,” Dean said. “I’m making you watch this movie.”
While the movie played, they were sitting further apart than they normally would, due to the popcorn bowl being nestled between them. Their knees weren’t even touching, but Dean could practically feel every movement Cas made, from the way he licked the line of dripping popcorn butter off his wrist to the glances he kept stealing at Dean when the “as you wish means I love you” scene played.
“What?” Dean asked, meeting Cas’s eyes.
Even in the darkness of the Dean Cave, Dean could’ve sworn Cas was blushing, and he had no idea how he should even feel about that.
“Nothing,” Cas said, re-directing his attention back to the movie, his lips twitching with the effort of holding back a smile.
“What is it?”
Cas looked back at Dean again, the smile breaking through. He looked adorable, even as he ducked his head, the blush on his face deepening. “I just– I realized something. About us.”
“Care to fill me in?”
Cas shook his head, then, still smiling widely, said, “I love you.”
Didn’t Cas already know that? Dean severely doubted that Dean was charming enough during a movie night he’d force Cas into to actually make Cas fall in love
“Yeah,” Dean said. And because he was a coward, as they both turned to watch the movie again, he said softly, “Me too.”
Strictly speaking, Cas had a car. It was an old gold truck he’d stolen during one of the many times they’d been separated. The truck was in pretty terrible condition, Cas kept it in the Bunker garage anyway, because Dean always said he’d fix it up for Cas so he could have some transportation of his own.
Except Dean never really had time before now to actually fix a car, and even though he technically did now, well, he and Cas were always together, anyways, so Dean and Baby could be the ones to get Cas wherever he needed to go. And, well, Cas didn’t seem to be complaining about having a lack of a car.
(Or, if he did, Cas didn’t tell Dean about it. It made him oddly sick to his stomach, to think of Cas getting a ride from someone else, or taking public transportation.)
And now, Dean and Baby were taking Cas to the little hole-in-the-wall diner where they served some of the best apple pie Dean had ever had in his life.
“Let me guess,” the waitress, a woman named Sandra who served Dean almost every time, said as she came up to Dean’s table. “A cheeseburger and fries, with a slice of apple pie for you?”
Dean nodded, flashing her a smile.
“And what about your boyfriend?” Sandra asked, turning her attention to Cas.
Cas floundered, looking at Dean with a slightly wide-eyed expression, and Dean took pity on him.
“Cas here’ll have the same thing, thanks.”
Sandra left, collecting their untouched menus, and Cas watched her go. His eyes flickered back to Dean, and he leaned over the table, lowering his voice almost conspiratorially.
“The waitress called me your boyfriend.”
Dean snorted. “What, that’s what you’re hung up on? Did you want me to correct her?”
Cas leaned back in his seat again, his frown clearing. “No, I guess I just– you always correct people when they assume you and Sam are a couple.”
“You’re not Sam.”
Cas’s lips quirked up into a tiny smile, and he sent Dean a soft look that made Dean wish Sandra had come back with those burgers already, so he could bury himself in some greasy diner fries instead of meeting Cas’s gaze.
“No, I suppose I’m not.”
“Besides,” Dean said, idly stirring the straw in his water cup. “The waitresses here probably think you baby-trapped me.”
There was that adorable confused look again. “I never knew you as a baby.”
“It’s an expression, Cas. For when one person in a relationship tricks the other into a pregnancy so they stay together.”
Cas looked vaguely horrified. “Dean, I would never–”
“I know that, I was teasing you.”
Cas looked slightly relieved by the comment, settling back into his seat. “For the record, though, you are very good with children. It’s very endearing.”
Dean snorted. “Except Jack, right?”
Cas glanced out the window, his eyes taking on a more sad quality that made Dean’s insides squirm. “No, not with Jack.”
Dean swallowed. “Guess I gotta make it up to him, huh? If it’s not too late.”
That brought a smile out of Cas. His hand inched forward on the table, before covering Dean’s. “No, I don’t think it is.”
Two days after their lunch together at the diner, Dean took Jack out to dinner. He let Jack ramble about how his classes were going, and told Jack that he was damn proud of him for all the hard work he’d been put in, and in the end, Dean wasn’t sure whose smile was bigger– Jack’s, or Cas’s, when Dean recounted what happened that night.
“We should go out.”
Cas looked up from the lore book he was reading, looking unimpressed with the idea. “Go where?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. To a bar. Hang out like two normal dudes for once.”
They hadn’t had a case in a week, and Dean couldn’t tell what about it was giving him the sudden urge to scale a wall, or start another apocalypse just so they could stop it. He liked spending time with Cas– and even stranger, Cas seemed to enjoy spending all that time with him– but Dean was more than ready to trade the Bunker’s thick gray walls for neon lights, blaring music, and the stench of drunk people.
Dean shrugged on his jacket, watching as Cas slipped a piece of paper in between the pages of the book he was reading. “Does this mean you’re coming?”
The bar was just as lively as Dean had been hoping. It had been far too long since Dean had properly hustled someone at pool, and although he was tempted, a combination of not wanting to anger the people who shared a town with him and not wanting to have to lose spectacularly at his favorite game in front of Cas were both strong reasons keeping him from actually caving in and doing it.
Cas, on the other hand, seemed to be on a personal mission to get as drunk as possible, now that he had barely any angel-liver to stop him.
“Are you drunk?” Dean asked, looking up from where he’d just sunk the black ball in one of many very impressive (if he said so himself) shots that night.
The drink in Cas’s hand wobbled as he moved. “I might be, yes.”
Dean definitely didn’t laugh. Instead, he slipped his opponent’s bet money into his pocket and took the drink out of Cas’s hands. “I think that’s our cue to take you home.”
Cas squinted at him. “Yes. Home. I’d like to go home with you.”
Dean took Cas by the arm before he could stumble into someone. “Great. Let’s go.”
Cas didn’t stop staring at him the entire ride home. Dean swore he kept getting closer with every turn they made. Dean was half-tempted to tell him to move back before Dean got too distracted by him. But that was just too weird of a thing to say, in the face of everything Cas felt about him. Admitting a knee brushing against yours was distracting wasn’t the kind of thing he would ever dare tell Sam.
Cas isn’t Sam, Dean’s brain argued.
Shut up brain, Dean thought back.
It wasn’t until they actually got back to the Bunker that Cas did something. Specifically, he waited until Dean closed the door before slamming him up against it, hands fisted in the collar of his jacket, eyes roaming Dean’s body, especially Dean’s lips.
“I would very much like to have sex with you,” Cas told Dean’s ear.
Dean swallowed, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on pushing Cas off him. The guy was deceptively strong. “No, Cas. I’m pretty sure you’re still drunk.”
“I want this. I can give you exactly what you want.”
Even Cas’s breath smelled like alcohol. What a turn-off– not that anything about this was exactly a turn-on, of course. It had been a while since he’d actually brought someone home, okay? Not because he didn’t want to, it was just that the idea of hooking up with someone only to crawl back into bed with Cas after– especially with the big L word Cas kept planting on him– was far too weird to even consider trying to hook up.
“What I want is for you to go to bed.”
Cas looked like he was going to lean in for a kiss anyway. Probably a really good kiss, too, like he gave Meg in that hallway all those years ago.
Dean pushed Cas off, and he stumbled backwards, still staring at Dean with the kind of intensity that did very odd things to Dean’s stomach.
It was a wonder Dean managed to get Cas into bed at all, without any other almost-kissing incidents. Luckily for Dean, Cas pretty much passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
While Cas snoozed peacefully on their shared bed, Dean stared at Cas’s lips and licked his own. Cas had never tried to kiss him before– well, he had, but always on the forehead. And maybe, when Dean was feeling particularly brave and Cas was half-asleep, Dean might’ve returned the favor, and given him a quick peck on the temple.
But Cas had never tried to peck him on the lips before. Not that what Cas was going for could ever be classified as a “peck”.
Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s hair, smoothing the black strands that had fallen across his forehead.
Predictably, Cas was gone when Dean woke up. He groaned as he sat up, already dreading the awkward conversation he’d be having.
He’d gone to the bathroom to avoid being in the kitchen while Cas might be there.
Unfortunately for him, Cas must’ve thought the same thing, because just as Dean was rounding the corner, Cas emerged in a cloud of steam, wearing a towel and still dripping slightly.
“Dean,” Cas started, and Dean cut him off right there, already unable to stand the amount of guilt and regret dripping from his voice.
“It’s fine, Cas. Seriously, can we just pretend it never happened?”
Cas hesitated, then nodded. “If you want.”
Want. The word brought a flood of images to Dean’s brain, about what might’ve happened if Cas hadn’t been drunk when he asked.
Not that Dean would’ve done anything in that case, either. It wouldn’t be right, using a guy who had feelings for him like that. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Cas.
Dean smiled, though he was sure they could both tell how forced it was. “Great.”
It was later that same day when Dean was in the kitchen, making himself a quick snack, and Cas lingered in the doorway, looking nervous.
So nervous that Dean was starting to worry how well “pretend like it never happened” would actually go. He could imagine it now– Cas nervously approaching him, unable to meet his eyes, before telling Dean that as much as he loved Dean, staying with him was too painful, and he was going to move out, and become a gas station attendant again, and probably meet some hot guy who was smart and kind and perfect, and Cas would love that guy instead, and Dean would be alone.
But obviously, Dean would grin and pat Cas on the back and congratulate him on his long-standing and blossoming marriage with the guy. Because he wanted Cas to be happy, with a guy who loved him back.
“Spit it out, Cas. You’re starting to make me nervous.”
“There’s a carnival a few hours from here,” Cas blurted out, and Dean almost dropped the hot dog he was eating. That was the last thing he’d been expecting. “They’ve got a ferris wheel. I just— I was doing research, and it seemed like a good place to– well, there’s a pie festival–”
Dean couldn’t help but smile a little. Cas’s rambling was adorable. “If you want to go to a carnival, Cas, all you had to do was say so. You don’t even need to bribe me with pie for it.” Watching Cas relax at his response, he continued, “We’re obviously going to the pie festival since you brought it up, but I would’ve done it for free, too.”
With Dean driving, the drive to the carnival only took two and a half hours. After a long stretch of cornfields on either side of a two-lane country backroad, Dean could see the colored lights and flashy tents forming on the horizon.
“So, you’ve never been on a ferris wheel, huh?” Dean asked, watching the large metal frame of said Ferris Wheel appear.
“The website said it was a good idea,” Cas said, because apparently the website suggested being weirdly cryptic, too. “Well, after dinner and a movie, but we already do that.”
The parking lot was full, but not so crowded Dean had a hard time finding parking. He eased into a spot, climbing out of the car and staring up at the carnival grounds before them. It had been a long time since he’d actually been to one of these, and even longer since he’d actually been on a ferris wheel.
His last time on a Ferris Wheel went pretty well at the top, for teenage Dean, anyway. Her name was Rachel and her lips had been so coated in chapstick that he was pretty sure he swallowed some when they finally kissed at the top.
He glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye. The dude’s lips always looked so chapped, maybe he needed chapstick.
Not that Dean’s Ferris Wheel trip with Cas would be ending the same way it did with Rachel. Or if it did, they’d do a forehead kiss or something, because apparently, somewhere between Cas coming back from the dead again and now, forehead kisses were a thing they did.
“You want to start with that?” Dean offered.
Cas looked up at the Ferris Wheel and gulped. He wasn’t scared of heights, was he?
No, he was an angel, he spent millions of years flying. He wouldn’t be scared of heights– maybe he was just scared of high, thin metal contraptions made by humans.
“Maybe we should save it for the end,” Cas decided. “The website didn’t say what else there was to do at these places, though.”
Dean shrugged. “Mostly play rigged games and eat cotton candy.”
By the time they actually got back to the Ferris Wheel, the sun was dangerously close to setting, Cas had an adorable little bee painted on his cheek, and they were both somewhere near drunk on laughter.
“Let’s do this thing,” Dean said, sliding into the tiny metal cart as it swung under his weight.
Cas gave the cart a suspicious look. Rolling his eyes fondly, Dean held out his hand, helping Cas into the cart. Cas only seemed to grow more suspicious with every shake the cart gave as they slowly and jerkily rose up into the air.
His knuckles were practically white as he gripped the edge of the seat. Dean put his hand over Cas’s, and he felt Cas relax under the touch.
“So? Is it everything you dreamed of?” Dean teased.
“We’re not at the top yet,” Cas observed, as the wheel gave another short rotation to load yet another cart.
They were pretty high up, though, Dean thought as he looked down. The ferris wheel carts felt a lot bigger when he was with Rachel– then again, he hadn’t been one of two fully grown men in said cart. Right now, he and Cas were basically pressed side-to-side in their little shaking cart. The whole thing felt strangely intimate.
The ferris wheel gave another mechanical jerk, and just like that, Dean and Cas and their tiny metal cart were looming over the carnival grounds. Dean could see the sleek shine of the Impala’s hood from here.
“You nervous?” he asked Cas, noticing the other man had tensed up again.
“I’ve never done this before. I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is here.”
Dean shifted his weight, and the whole cart shifted with him. He straightened up, reminding himself not to move too much too quickly in case it made Cas uncomfortable. “Pretty sure the only protocol is to relax and enjoy the view.”
Cas turned his attention on Dean, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Yes, the view is pretty great.”
It was only the teasing tone of his voice that made Dean realize Cas was quoting him, from the first time Dean joined him on the roof. Except Cas was pretty obviously staring at him, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if this was Cas trying to flirt.
Well, if Cas wanted to flirt, Dean was more than happy to teach him, some other time when they weren’t so close Dean could basically feel Cas’s exhale against his skin.
Wait. Was Cas getting closer?
He got his answer when he felt the quick, dry, fleeting pressure of Cas’s lips on his cheek.
His cheek. That was much closer to Dean’s lips than their normal forehead kisses.
Dean stared at Cas, and Cas stared back at Dean, and it was only the jerk of the ferris wheel that pulled them out of the silent staring contest.
Dean didn’t mention the kiss the rest of the ride. But their hands stayed together, until their cart reached the bottom again.
The pie festival was long since closed by the time they reached Baby again. But Dean was more than fine to skip out on pie. Being at the carnival with Cas had been fine, even the Ferris Wheel.
He couldn’t stop feeling the shaky movents of said Ferris Wheel in his stomach.
As he slid behind the familiar driver’s seat, he couldn’t stop thinking about his hand over Cas’s, or Cas’s lips on his cheek.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get pie,” Cas said, sounding genuinely sorry, too.
“It’s fine, Cas. I meant what I said– you don’t gotta bribe me.” If spending time with Dean was what Cas wanted to do, well then, Dean was more than happy to oblige, even if his pockets were a little lighter after all those rigged games.
Dean could see the flash of the yellow bee on Cas’s cheek when he checked his rearview mirror. Adorable.
“Anytime you wanna do human stuff, just let me know. It’s not like we’ve got another apocalypse taking up our time,” Dean added.
Cas nodded seriously, before removing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it, religiously smoothing out the wrinkles.
Dean snorted. Adorable. “You have a list, huh?”
“I wanted to write down everything the website told me, just in case.”
“What’s up with this website thing, anyway?”
Not that Dean minded. Being at the carnival was fun, especially with Cas. He’d never really had time to just kill a whole day wandering around. It was kind of nice, just…being.
Ha, isn’t that what Cas said? Happiness was just in being?
Maybe Dean understood that a little better now. What they had– getting to spend time with Cas every day and going to bed with him every night, watching as he laughed at the wrong jokes in movies and the way he frowned and tilted his head when he was confused– was enough for Dean to be happy, settled.
Dean caught sight of Cas’s smile, and that adorable little bee on his cheek, out of the corner of his eye and he froze and he gripped the steering wheel tight because this wasn’t just happiness in being.
This might be more than that.
No cars were coming. Dean’s mind was full of fuzzy pink cotton candy and images of Cas’s gummy smile. He slammed the brakes and pulled the car off to the side of the road.
Cas’s eyes were blue as rain. Thunder boomed in time with Dean’s heart. Static danced across his skin.
Lightning strike. There it was.
Dean opened his mouth. Closed it again.
Cas stared at him expectantly. Dean realized he’d probably been talking this whole time, answering his question about the website, and Dean hadn’t heard a word because Cas was just there, existing, being, and that made him very distracting. Which was definitely not a very platonic, brotherly thing to think.
This might be more than happiness in being. This might be– this was– happiness in being in love.
Dean understood, now, why he kept the jacket with the bloody handprint, why he stood in front of that mirror while wearing it and couldn’t get himself to say the words “I love you, but not like that”.
I guess I’d just always thought you’d settle down.
As if he hadn’t ran right to Cas the minute Cas came back. As if he hadn’t left Cas’s side since. As if he hadn’t already settled down.
Cas looked beautiful, and Dean couldn’t breathe. His eyes skated the line of Cas’s jaw, the wrinkles from laughing hiding in the corners of his eyes. The strong hands that fit perfectly in Dean’s.
“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.
The engine idled, and Dean could hear it taunting him. How did it take him so long?
“Can I ask you a weird question without you judging me or storming off or anything like that?”
The soft eyes, the soft kiss Cas had given him on the roof, when Dean joined him to watch the sunrise. The damn list from the website that was probably suggesting half a dozen good date ideas. Cas knew before he did.
This Cas, the man Dean loved, cocked his head to the side, frowning. “Of course, Dean.”
Dean took a deep breath, steeling himself. Why was it so much easier to tell Cas that he was planning to chuck himself into the ocean, or say yes to Michael, than this? “How long have we been…dating?”
Cas stared at him, mouth parted in surprise, eyes searching his as if fishing for the right answer, for what felt like an hour before answering. “You told me ‘as you wish’ and then showed me a movie where they said ‘as you wish’ means ‘I love you’. I assumed that meant– I mean, with all the affection and attention you’ve been giving me, I assumed that was your way of telling me that you reciprocated my feelings.”
“Oh.” Of course Cas knew before he did. “So that would make…the diner, with the pie, our first date? When I accused you of baby-trapping me?”
Cas nodded, still hesitant. “I suppose so?”
Dean swallowed. That was only two weeks ago. That was good, right? He hadn’t lost that much time being a total idiot. “You’ve been telling me you love me all this time, and I’ve never told you yet.”
Not without conditions, not without hiding behind other words.
Cas’s face softened. “Dean, if you can’t–”
“I love you,” Dean said, cutting Cas off.
His heart was hammering in his chest again. Was it really that simple? Could a lightning strike really feel this natural?
He reached across the car, interlocking their fingers. Cas stared down at the contact for a moment.
“I think I’ve been in love with you for so long that I forgot what it was like to not feel this way about you. Feel like whenever you’re missing, you’ve taken half of me with you. It’s scary, the things I would do to get you back if I ever lost you. Because I don’t ever want to lose you, and I love you, and I’d like to date you.”
Cas smiled, meeting Dean’s eyes again. “I love you, and I’d like to date you, too.”
Dean didn’t know which one of them leaned in first. All he knew was that Cas’s lips were suddenly on his, chapped and warm and soft, and his hand was cradling Dean’s cheek like he was something precious, and Cas tasted like honey and endless movie nights and lightning storms.
Dean was an idiot for not seeing this earlier.
Mornings were a lot nicer when Cas had no reservations about holding him, and pressing kisses to his forehead or cheeks or shoulder or lips or wherever else he wanted to press kisses.
Talk about a lightning strike, Dean thought, as Cas nipped lightly at the skin near his stomach.
“Gotta say, this is much better than getting woken up because you want to watch the sunrise,” Dean said, glancing at the clock.
“I prefer this view,” Cas murmured into Dean’s skin.
The blankets had long since been pulled down to Dean’s waist, exposing his bare skin to the cool air and Cas’s lips.
“Why didn’t we do this earlier?” Dean groaned, craning up to press his own kiss to Cas’s lips.
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who didn’t realize you wanted this,” Cas said teasingly.
“Yeah, well, I was an idiot.”
His hand blindly sought out Cas’s, tangling their fingers together and bringing Cas’s knuckles closer so he could press a kiss to them.
Maybe it was better that they never tried this while they were still dealing with big bad after big bad. After all the times Cas left and it broke him, well, Dean didn’t think he could risk losing Cas now that he knew exactly what he’d be missing out on– every kiss, every lovesick smile, every soft “I love you”.
He never wanted to find out what losing Cas would feel like now.
“You’re not allowed to die on me, you know that?” Dean said, before leaning up to capture Cas’s lips into another kiss.
Cas gave a tiny, contented sigh into Dean’s mouth. “You aren’t allowed to die on me, either.”
“I would never.” Dean hesitated, then asked, “Do you ever think about leaving hunting?”
Cas frowned. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “I just know that hunting doesn’t end well, for anyone. Especially not us.”
“I like helping people,” Cas said. “And I think you would get bored.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
They’d already been taking less cases. And with their work polishing up the Bunker, maybe they could have a real network, like Bobby did. Right now, though, it felt like they had all the time in the world to figure it out, so Dean let himself melt into Cas’s kisses and soft touches.
Holding hands was a lot more fun than Dean was expecting. The people of Lebanon, including all those waitresses at the diner with the good pie, probably had zero doubt that he and Cas were together now.
And in Dean’s opinion, holding hands and kissing seemed to be the best way to come out to people, rather than giving a big announcement to a room full of teary eyes, supportive platitudes, and cakes that had rainbow colors on the inside.
Case in point: Claire.
These days, while she was hunting with Kaia, she stopped by the Bunker so often that Dean wondered if she was starting to like the fact that Cas sometimes acted like a dad to her.
They were having a movie night, because of course they were, because Claire hadn’t understood Dean’s reference to a classic movie that she just absolutely had to see.
Kaia was in the bathroom and Dean was eating popcorn as stealthily as possible to avoid waking Castiel, who was snoozing away on his shoulder while his fingers were still wrapped loosely around Dean’s under the blanket.
(He was pretty sure Kaia and Claire had been holding hands under the blanket, too, earlier so as far as Dean was concerned, no one in this room was allowed to judge him).
Claire looked up at Dean and Cas and raised her eyebrow.
Dean glared back. Claire smiled.
“So you finally figured it out, huh?” she said, motioning towards Cas’s sleeping form.
She was too perceptive for her own good, Dean decided. “Yeah, I’m in love with the guy. And, yes, you told me so. Happy?”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “Just don’t hurt him, alright?”
“I don’t plan on it.” He looked down at Cas, smiling as he leaned down to press a kiss to Cas's temple. Maybe it made him sappy as hell, but he liked having a thing with Cas, especially if that "thing" meant he could kiss Cas more.
“Gross,” Claire said, though too much affection was bleeding through her voice for the word to be completely convincing.
“Do you want me to bring up that conversation about protection again?”
Claire clamped her mouth shut, wordlessly returning to the movie. Dean settled back on the couch, his arm looped around Cas’s shoulders. If this wasn’t “settled down”, he thought, still smiling, he wasn’t sure what was.
Sam and Eileen were hunting a supposed wraith near the Bunker. It was Dean’s idea, taking his younger brother out to dinner before the four of them tackled the hunt together. Mostly because it had been too damn long since he last saw Sammy in person, and mostly because Dean would be damned if he had to spend a whole hunt suddenly getting shy about PDA with Castiel because his brother didn’t know yet.
“So, what’s new with you?” Sam asked, digging into his salad.
“I settled down.”
Sam did a double take, frowning at his lettuce. Dean thought that was a pretty reasonable reaction to wilty leaves. “Dean, if I had known that, I would’ve asked you–”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I didn’t stop hunting, Sam. I just, you know, found someone. Went steady.”
Sam smiled. “That’s great. Who is it? When do I get to meet her?”
“You already have.” Why was this so hard? “It’s Cas, Sam. Cas and I…well, I have a big gay thing for him, and he has one for me, so we’re doing the gay thing…together. Dating.” He cleared his throat, adding, “I love him, Sam.”
To Sam’s credit, he held his shock well. “That’s great! That’s– wow, I’m really happy for you guys. It, uh, it makes a lot of sense, in hindsight.”
Dean couldn’t suppress his chuckle. “Thanks.”
Sam sighed. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m just glad I’m only the second to last person who realized I’m in love with Cas,” Dean said, reaching over to click the neck of his beer bottle against Sam’s.