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He had dozed off completely; no idea for how long, just that the only reason he woke was Cas speaking.
"You're tired."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean grumbled. There was a note of exasperation in his already rough voice.
"It's just a little strange. I haven't seen you like this in a while."
They were laying side by side on Dean's bed, not overly affectionate; in fact, there was no physical contact. Usually they would save this still blatant display of involvement for Castiel’s cabin, but Dean hadn't even been expecting him when he showed up. Besides, Cas enjoyed the gesture of being allowed in the man’s personal space. Everything in here smelled like Dean. The decor stood as a loud reminder of whose room they were in: vinyl records displayed on the wall, a stack of Playboy magazines on a side table, flannel thrown over the chair in the corner. It was intimate, sharing this carefully crafted environment with him.
"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged, eyes still closed, "Heaven or not, I'm human, buddy. I get like this sometimes."
Truth is, this fatigue was so unfamiliar that he was trying not to expose how freaked he was. Maybe, without the stress and toll of his old life, he was finally noticing those subtle human feelings normal people were able to experience. He couldn't tell if this exhaustion was good or not, though. Not that he would say anything about it.
Cas just glared to his side. He knew it was more complicated than what he was told, and he was used to the attitude.
"Anything you need to talk about?" He figured the question was probably in vain.
Dean's eyelashes fluttered, lids flickering open yet still heavy as he answered, "Of course not, Cas. You know I'd tell you."
"I highly doubt you would."
The hunter opened his mouth to argue but hesitated when he realized he had no rebuttal.
"...Sure. Fair point."
Did he have something he needed to say?
"You know," Cas added, "relationships rely on communication."
"We've always been bad at that, hid shit from each other all the time."
"And we faced the consequences, if I recall correctly."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Stop… being kinda right. It's annoying."
"At least you admit it."
A pause, both noisy and silent at the same time somehow, until Cas pushed once more.
"It's even more important now."
"'Now' what?" Dean’s expression tensed with confusion, maybe even irritation.
"Now that we understand the extent of our relationship. Wouldn't you agree that it's important to be open with the person you're closest to - your partner?"
Partner? The simple word made Dean cringe involuntarily.
Taken aback, Cas reacted, "Would you not label us as such?"
"Cas, you know it's not about you…"
"You've mentioned that before. But I would like the ability to identify this as a romantic partnership, because frankly, that's what it is."
Dean's mouth was dry when he spoke. "Sure, yeah. It's just how forward you are about it, I guess. I dunno."
It was quiet again as Castiel contemplated the mild discomfort and sadness in Dean's distracted green eyes. He seemed to be staring through the mattress at something Cas couldn't see, something that wasn't actually there.
"You knew it would be like this," Dean said, monotone. Dissociating. "I'm not like you. Not sure if I ever will be."
The angel was fairly certain he understood that rather cryptic response.
"My intention is never to make you admit something you're uncomfortable with, Dean."
Even as said man gazed beyond their plane of existence, Cas still caught a glimpse of disappointment in Dean's expression, though subtle and likely unintentional. Cas loved him so much. He knew what was inevitable and it already hurt.
"I'm sorry."
Silence. It seemed to follow them, for better or for worse.
Dean continued, "It's not fair to you."
Cas pondered for a moment, deciding how to coax the conversation in the most helpful direction. All the while, Dean stayed unattentive yet aware.
"What's going on?" he finally asked, concern dripping from every syllable.
"Nothin'."
"Dean," Cas practically begged, "I know that's not true."
Like a camera lens zooming in and out, Dean's eyes refocused, the chosen subject being his own knuckles. They suddenly appeared more interesting than everything else now.
"What you gonna do about it?"
"Lay here until you talk to me, listen. What I've always done."
Maybe, if he lost track of reality watching his hands, the words would spill out painlessly. Maybe his angel would shut up and leave him alone; maybe he didn't want him to. Maybe they were partners.
"Okay."
So they both did what they said they would. Cas rolled slightly onto his side, propped his head on his hand, and rested, waiting. Dean flexed his fingers, examining the movement of the muscles and joints as he subconsciously gathered his thoughts. And this persisted, for tens of minutes, possibly hours, because they had nowhere to be and nowhere to go except with each other. Time twisted and folded on itself. Dean never fell back asleep.
"Cas, this--"
Dean cleared his throat softly to start over.
"Ever since we, you know..."
"Slept together?"
The shamelessness of the statement was perfectly juxtaposed against Dean's obvious awkwardness regarding it. Cas didn't seem to notice how restless he was.
"Uh, yeah… Ever since then, I'd consider this"--he gestured anxiously through the space between them--"more serious."
"As would I."
Dean chuckled coldly. "Yeah. Once that happened, there was kinda no going back."
Cas grew puzzled as to where this was going.
"Not that I want to," Dean quickly attempted to save himself. "I just didn't think we'd ever make it that far."
Of course he didn't.
"You wanted to, didn't you?" Cas clarified.
The other was quiet for a little too long.
"Dean?"
At last, he looked up, tracing the trenchcoat and stubble with his eyes before catching Cas’s.
"I--"
His voice caught. Crying was so frequent now that he was dead. And yet, ironically, it was more a physical sensation than anything, no emotion behind it.
"I didn't think…"
He couldn't maintain eye contact any longer, let alone complete that sentence aloud.
I didn't think I could feel like that again.
Cas nodded, brow furrowed thoughtfully, to let Dean know it was received.
I haven't told someone I love them in so, so long. Not out loud, anyway. I haven't called someone… I haven't called them… I haven't...
"You don't have to continue. I understand, bee."
Dean appeared shockingly stoic, disconnected from his own feelings in a way he had perfected across decades.
But I do-- I want to call you-- Because I really do--
"I… love you."
Cas sat up slowly, his face morphing into a strange mixed expression somewhere between thrill and worry. All of the color drained from Dean's cheeks the second those words left his mouth, and he went back to inspecting his knuckles once again. In fact, their reactions couldn't have been more starkly different.
"Dean…"
"I love you."
This time it seemed he actively chose to speak rather than his thoughts simply tumbling out, though it was unclear whether he was happy with that decision.
"Cas," Dean interrupted, pulling his gaze upward, "it hurts, because every time I say it, I lose them."
Memories flashed across his mind, fleeting and residually painful, like thousands of blistering little burns. Everyone he had watched disintegrate right before his eyes - whether or not he ever saw them again - ascending mortality, all because of him. It was rarely even those three specific words; it didn't matter. The moment he was vulnerable, their fate was sealed. Last words recorded in Death's vast library, forever. Final sighs returned to the atmosphere for him to breathe back in as a reminder that knowing him was and is dangerous, loving him moreso.
"It happened. It happened to Mom, Sam, Bobby. Jo. Charlie. Jack." Dean drew a shuddering breath. "Lisa. You, more than once. I put everyone I love in the line of fire, no matter what. Family, friends… anyone unlucky enough to be more than that."
"You won't lose me again."
"You don't know that," Dean argued, his conviction drawn from those memories.
Cas spoke, barely above a whisper, "Why do you hesitate now?"
The silence was molasses, so thick you could suffocate, so sticky you couldn't escape. It was like the question had never left his mouth.
"You're different."
Even if only a bit, Cas knew this. The man confused him still. Humanity always would, despite how much he believed to understand.
"All of those people are different. Their destinies never rested with anything you said to them," Cas assured.
"That's not true."
"Dean, what you did with your life, hunting, saving the world - was everything but safe, and they all knew that. I knew that."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Have you ever wondered why we were willing to put ourselves in harm's way just to be your family?"
More episodes blinked through Dean's brain, echoes of their dying voices, the ones he was fortunate enough to hear. They always told him he would win. They always had faith in the fight. He always let them down.
"We all saw something in you that was worth staying for. You remember every word I said to you that day, and it was all resounding truth."
"That's the goddamn problem. None of that would've happened if we-- if I--"
All of Dean's thoughts were trying to push their way out at once, getting stuck in his lungs, crawling over each other and choking him.
"You're different. We were so close to the end. We could see the finish line, and you never crossed it because of me.
"I knew you loved me. For years, I saw right through you. I was able to ignore it because I had to, because there was a job to do and we couldn't be that. You would never hear me mention it, not once, as long as there was no end in sight for me. As long as there was another monster behind the next door, I could avoid it. When I realized the race was almost over, it was like… it was like when I met you for the first time, except now we had a story. It was a story together that could actually end 'happily ever after,' and I could practically touch it. I let my guard down way too soon. I let it get the best of me before we were out of the woods, until one day we ended up in that room together for the last time. I was so confident we would make it. We were so fucking close. "
Tears streamed silently down his cheeks in spite of his emotionless voice. He was depressingly distant, his tone and expression nearly harsh.
"I was the one who made the deal," Cas refuted, his eyes also damp. "I did it to save Jack. It had nothing to do with you, Dean."
"But you were happy. That was me."
"So I shouldn't have been happy?"
"Not with me, not if it meant dying."
"It was my choice!"
"I shouldn't have let it happen."
Cas disappeared without warning, only the rush of flapping wings following him. Dean squeezed his eyes shut tightly as if escaping a dream; when they opened, he was alone like no one had been there at all, except the other side of the bed was still warm.
He went back to sleep.
A light knock on the door frame about an hour later was what drew Dean from his slumber this time. In the doorway stood the angel, broad shoulders and slender arms clothed in just a white dress shirt as opposed to the three layers that typically covered them. His silhouette was less familiar without the long, loose coat drowning him. He slumped against the wall and shrank in on himself slightly.
"Hey," Dean muttered casually.
"Less tired, I see."
"Hardly."
As the hunter sat up completely for the first time in several hours, Cas inched into the room timidly.
His voice was gentle and full of what sounded like remorse or regret. "How do we always manage to fuck this up?"
"I dunno," Dean answered, glancing between Cas and the floor. "Guess I'm just not used to having something good."
With a few more steps, Cas agreed, "Me neither."
The quiet that followed was slightly uncomfortable, but the air was full of potential if they were only willing to try. Dean scooted to the foot of the bed, flinging his legs over the side and resting his elbows on his knees. He nodded to the spot beside him before staring back at the ground. Accepting the unspoken invitation, Cas perched on the edge of the mattress, leaving just a bit of space between himself and Dean. A couple more minutes passed with no words or movement or even prayers.
Finally, Dean turned his head to look up at Cas, allowing himself to admire his blue eyes and the comfort they held. For the first time that day, the walls were down. Human soul and angel grace connected, intertwined, danced together in an offer of encouragement, hope, admiration.
"I love you."
It was uttered low and defenseless, the deep scratch of Dean's voice significantly softened. His throat and ears hurt the way it does when you're trying with the entire force of your will not to cry.
Cas smiled - a tiny, warm smile - while tears clouded his vision as they had earlier. An instant later, a faint aura materialized all around him, fuzzy, multicolored, and light. White-blue energy zipped through it occasionally, like lightning through the aurora borealis. None of this fazed Dean in the slightest; he had always been able to feel these things, he could just see it all now. Physical manifestations of heavenly power, now visible to his eternal being. Something so distinctly unique he could share with Castiel.
"I'm so fucking terrified and I don't know what any of it means. I can't explain why this is so goddamn hard for me. Compared to my life, this should be easy, I should be able to say it. Hell, maybe how my life turned out is the reason I'm struggling. I'm just so, so afraid. I can't lose you, not you, not again. I don't want to say it because I want you to be here when I wake up every morning, but I have to tell you. I want to tell you. And I want you to be the exception to the rule. I love you, Cas, oh my God..."
With a deep breath, Dean leaned forward and reached for Cas's hands in one fell swoop. His eyelids drooped closed, slowly, slowly, until the only thing occupying him was the tender lips of his angel. There was never another time when he had been so unspeakably mild. He melted when he felt the kiss received and reciprocated just as gently. Neither of them appeared to be breathing. Even as their lips separated, their foreheads met, resting against each other affectionately. Cas wished they could touch until the universe itself ceased to exist.
"I love you, too."
This time, they wrapped their arms around each other's waists loosely. They weren't pulled together as they would be in desperation or surprise. Instead, they relaxed into one another, letting go of any bad thing they harbored, healing and allowing themselves to feel. Dean buried his face in the crook of Cas's neck, pleading with time to stop everything, if just for a second. Nothing could upset this. He wouldn't let anything happen.
"I know you're scared, and I know you believe I will be ripped from you again. I can only begin to understand the pain you must feel. But when you lay it aside, when you realize you are able to have what you always perceived as out of reach, I am here. Feel me, love me, forever, because I am right here, and we will do everything we can to keep it that way."
Cas never shied away from such intense, emotional language. Why keep thoughts like these to yourself when they held so much power?
"I don't think I'll ever not be scared," Dean followed, still nuzzled into Cas's shoulder.
"We're in this together. Fear can be overcome. We can do it," Cas continued thoughtfully, "as partners."
This time, Dean didn't even move at the mention. Whether he was too exhausted or finally accepting it, it was difficult to tell.
"I think I'll stick to calling you my angel."
Hearing it never ceased to give Cas goosebumps. He pulled back to gaze at Dean, caring in such a human way, wanting to scream and cry and embrace and collapse all at once.
"God, I love you," Dean whispered, as if each time he said it, he became more comfortable. As if a long-dormant part of his soul had been awakened.
"I love you, I love you"--he pecked Cas on the lips, quick and light--"I love you…"
They fell backward onto the sheets, side-by-side, grinning and kissing. A rainbow glow engulfed the two. Freedom - as foreign as it felt, Dean knew it was right.