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“Besides, I had it coming.”
Dean’s words settle, sour and acidic, into the pit of Cas’ stomach. Cas lets himself fall back against the back of the chair, watching Dean return the ice pack to his cheek and take a long swig of beer. The left side of his face is so swollen, angry red welts muddled with purple and yellow. He did that, again. Cas’ fingers itch to just touch Dean in some way, to comfort him, to heal him of the ache that is burdening him, and not just the physical ailment; the lingering guilt too.
If he’s being honest, what he really wants is to just talk to Dean. For a while, about everything; all the things he’s needed to say three years ago.
They tried to talk about it once, "it" being this thing between them that never seems to get past touches that last too long and soulful stares Cas never seems to be able to look away from. In Purgatory they tried, and that was the only time. After a significant attack by Leviathan, Dean bloodied, bruised, and Benny standing guard a couple hundred feet away, they talked about everything for the first time.
Maybe it was the whole “last night on earth,” thing or maybe it was just something that needed to come out, Cas doesn’t know what provoked him to tell Dean the truth, but that night he did.
Cas knelt down beside Dean where he rested up against the tree. Darkness shrouded his features, only the planes of his face, dried blood, and twinkling liquid of his eyes visible.
“Dean,” Cas said, hand sliding out to smooth against Dean’s cheek, vanishing all hints of injury and remnants of blood.
“Thanks,” Dean replied, gratefully.
“You don’t need to thank me.”
Cas let his fingers stay, unable to pull away. Dean had almost died tonight, as had he. The likelihood of either one of them getting out alive, especially Cas seemed dim, and it seemed foolish to continue on together if Cas didn’t tell him the truth.
“I need to talk to you,” Cas started, voice unusually soft and gentle. Even in the dark Cas saw Dean’s muscles tighten in his forehead and he tilted his head, regarding Cas curiously.
“About what?”
“I need to be honest with you about something.”
Dean slid up, his back a little straighter against the tree, washing his face in a mask of steel, preparing himself for something awful. Cas could read his thoughts without even trying.
“Go on.”
“I love you.” The words flowered and bloomed on Cas’s tongue, slipping out before he had a chance to grab a hold of them.
Dean relaxed a little, his teeth flashing white in a smile, “Yeah man, I love you too.”
Cas shook his head, chuckling a little. “No, I don’t mean... like that.”
Dean sucked in a breath, not moving away from Cas’ touch against his cheek, just waiting and the silence was deafening.
“Okay,” Dean replied, guarded, “What do you mean?”
“I’m in love with you.”
Dean just stared, not upset, not happy, just blank. If there was ever a moment where Cas wanted to run away and throw himself to the Leviathans it was right then. Finally, when Dean spoke it was in a hushed whisper.
“Cas, you can’t.”
“Why not?” He leaned back from Dean, fingers tracing the curve of his cheek, then leaving his skin completely.
Dean shook his head, and reached out a hesitant hand, grasping a fistful of Cas’ coat and pulling him back.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” He whispered, even as his hands found their way underneath Cas’ coat to slide along his hips all the way to his back.
“You won’t,” Cas answered, leaning back in and taking one of Dean’s much rougher hands within his.
Dean focused his eyes on Cas’ face, “No, I know I will, that’s who I am.” Honestly bled through Dean’s words like a shot wound, and its spilled blood dripped onto the forest floor around them. Even though Cas liked to pretend that loving Dean was easy, through experience he knew it wasn’t. He would get hurt by the person he loved most in all of creation, but it would be worth it.
Dean would always be worth everything.
“Then I will happily take the pain.”
Despite the darkness, Cas found Dean’s lips easily, melding his own against them until he stole a breath out of Dean’s lungs. Dean’s shaking hands helplessly groped around in the shadows, until he slung an arm around Cas’ hips and tugged him forward. They kissed for awhile, there in the land of the monsters until Benny whistled from somewhere beyond the edge of the treeline, signaling danger.
They never talked about that day, and it never happened again.
Dean thumps his empty beer bottle on the table, startling Cas out of his haze of memories.
“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he announces, rising slowly and cringing when the ice pack slides a little too far down on his face and smooshes into the tender skin.
Dean’s steps make hollow thuds across the floor as he leaves the room without another word. Cas watches him go, heart aching inside his chest. It’s bad enough that Dean is blaming himself for all this. He must think his injuries are some sort of punishment for what happened between them with the Mark. Cas doesn’t blame Dean for that, he never will; it wasn’t him.
Cas' fingers still tingle from where they made contact with Dean’s jaw and even though Dean doesn’t want to be healed, Cas needs to heal him. Touch is the only form of sorry he knows; words don’t work well, not with Winchesters.
“Cas?” Sam says softly.
Cas turns his gaze to his friend. “Yes?”
“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin; go follow him.”
“I don’t think he wants me to.”
“Trust me,” Sam says, lips tipping up into the hint of a smile, “he does.”
Cas returns Sam’s smile with one of his own and slowly rises from the chair.
“Alright, I’ll try. Good night, Sam.”
Sam grins from behind the fluorescent light of his laptop screen.“Night, Cas.”
~~~
Cas stands outside of Dean’s door for approximately five minutes before he finally gains the courage to knock his fist against the wood. At first the only sound he hears is his own breathing until a voice, partially choked, comes through the barrier between them.
“Who is it?”
“Cas,” he answers, voice barely above a whisper.
“What do you want?” Dean’s voice is harder now, not angry but afraid and ten walls go up between them in a span of a few seconds. This conversation is going to be a lot harder than Cas anticipated, though when it comes to Dean, nothing is ever easy.
“Can I come in?”
Cas hears a sigh, a shuffling of feet and then the door clicks and slowly starts to slide open. The room is shrouded in shadows, the only light provided by the dim lamp on Dean’s nightstand. Dean sits back down again on the edge of the bed, ice pack still pressed against his cheek, head in his hands.
“What do you need?” Dean asks, voice muffled by the ice pack.
Cas walks forward carefully, and gently closes the door behind him. He hesitates in front of Dean, staring down at him, contemplating his options. He chooses to sit next to Dean on the bed and reaches up, taking the hand Dean isn’t using to press the ice pack against his cheek, brushing his fingers lightly over the top of Dean’s hand.
“You,” he answers.
“Cas,” Dean breathes out, he tenses and tries to pull away, but Cas holds him fast, gripping the base of his forearm. Dean stills and side-eyes Cas, most likely waiting for the warmth of grace that never comes.
“Stop running away from me.”
“I’m not,” Dean gruffs out, he relaxes nonetheless and Cas counts it as a small victory.
“Yes you are,” Cas replies, shooting Dean a half-hearted glare.
“Yeah, well you know why.”
“Dean,” Cas sighs, “You’re not going to hurt me. I’m here and I’m fine.”
Dean looks over at him, swallowing thickly. He shakes his head slowly, head hanging and curls his fingers around Cas’, “I could’ve killed you.”
“But you didn’t.”
Dean huffs, “So?”
“So, you’ve been holding back from me for three years because you’re scared of what might happen if you admit to loving me more than you want to admit. You want me Dean, you made that very clear once, and you have to know that I love you more than anything in the universe. I know you’re scared of losing me, I know that you don’t think deserve to be happy, but you do. I just don’t understand why we can’t try to be happy together.”
Dean sighs heavily, darts his eyes away from Cas and settles his gaze on the floor.
“The world’s ending, Cas.”
“So? Let it end.”
Cas slides his fingers up the palm of Dean’s hand and tangle around his wrist. Cas’ other hand finds Dean’s where it's pressed up against his cheek and gently pulls Dean’s hand away from his face, letting the ice fall to the floor. Dean makes a startled noise of protest at the loss of cool ice on his burning skin. Cas traps his fingers between Dean’s and lowers his hand down to his thigh resting it there. He stares, as he always has and Dean stares back, eyes flicking back and forth in wavering uncertainty over Cas’ face.
A breath later, Cas leans in and softly presses his lips against the swollen welt on Dean’s cheek. Dean’s eyes slam shut, fingers tightening around his hold on around Cas' wrist.
“Cas.”
Cas scoots closer until his thigh is pressed up against Dean’s. He strains his neck up, brushing his lips against Dean’s forehead, the welt over his eyebrow, and the particular purple bruise in the middle of his cheek. None of the wounds heal, Dean made it very clear he wanted to keep his injuries, and Cas will respect that.
The kiss that follows, soft and eager against Dean's lips isn’t a first, but it is a beginning.
And somehow, even if the world does fall away around them, Cas knows this beginning won’t ever have an end.