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In Dean's defense, he wasn’t joking about not realizing what had happened.
The witch they were fighting wasn't particularly powerful; when the jet of pink magic hit Dean but nothing changed, he'd assumed it had been a fluke spell. He'd assured Sam and Cas he was fine and shot an extra witch-killing bullet into her skull for good measure.
And, really, how was Dean supposed to know? He had long since mastered the art of swallowing down the instinct to grab Cas by that stupid trench coat and plant one on him, to press himself up against Cas's side and never leave, to take him to bed and wake up next to him every morning for the rest of Dean's life. Giving into the tiny little impulses to touch Cas more, casually, felt good, but then again, being with Cas always felt good. The horribly cliche fireworks-in-his-head, butterflies-in-his-stomach, drunk-on-Cas's-smile kind of good.
Dean still didn't know exactly when the curse started, but he was fairly certain it started slowly. Drip by drip, little by little, until all Dean could think about was pressing his thigh up against Cas's in diners, or holding his hand, or raking through his hands through Cas's messy black hair while Cas pushed him up against the--
Whatever. The point was, the spell was like one of those dumb chemistry experiments where you filled the big glass tube with a clear liquid, and you were supposed to let it drip slowly down into the beaker below until that liquid turned pale pink. But the next thing you knew, all of a sudden it was dark pink, and your chemistry teacher was sending you disappointing stares from across the lab room, and you had to start all over again.
Dean's Dark Pink moment happened nine days after they killed the witch. He and Cas were watching a movie-- a movie Cas had picked out, which maybe should've been Dean's first sign-- in the Dean Cave, with Dean's hand on the back of the loveseat, idly playing with the hair at the base of Cas's neck-- which, yes, probably should've been Dean's second clue, because he was usually never that bold.
The credits had started to roll, and Cas had turned to look at Dean, and Dean was waiting on the edge of his seat to do whatever Cas asked of him.
"My truck engine has been making weird noises. I was hoping you could repair it for me."
Something snapped in Dean's chest. He frowned at Cas, straightening on the couch, taking his hand away from the back of Cas's neck. "Where do you need to go? I can drive you."
Cas smiled. "I appreciate the sentiment, Dean, but I doubt you'd like to drive me everywhere.”
The words only set Dean more on edge. “Are you going somewhere I shouldn’t know about?”
The smile fell. Dean couldn’t help the wave of images that flashed through his mind– of Cas meeting up with some pretty waitress, of Cas taking her to bed, of her claw-like nails being able to trace the path of Cas’s collarbones and pull his trench coat off.
It wasn’t just jealousy boiling in Dean’s stomach, it was anger . Cas was his . He could practically hear a voice in the back of his head, hissing how could he do this and you must have done something wrong and show him that you’re better than some random waitress and kiss him kiss him kiss him–
Dean stood up abruptly. Cas stared at him, equal parts concerned and frustrated. Something inside of him wilted at the expression, and the voice began hissing again about how Dean needed to prove his love to Cas, to get rid of that annoyed twist of his lips.
Dean was very accustomed to a voice in his head telling him that he should kiss Cas. That was not what the voice normally felt like.
“You know what?” Dean said. “I’m going to go.”
Dean’s feet carried him to the garage, and he decided that working on Cas’s truck would be the perfect place to think, and would work as a solid half-apology, half-don’t-worry-about-me gift. His mind slowed down as he fell into routine, but the angry-jealous heat in his chest didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
Even if Cas really was trying to sneak out somewhere, Dean reasoned, it wouldn’t be to visit a girl. He’d probably be conspiring with Crowley again or something.
Okay, Dean didn’t like that idea any better, but at least he could tell that distaste was definitely coming from him, and not the love spell that that witch from over a week ago stuck on him. Even now, Dean could feel that voice telling him how pleased Cas would be when he found out Dean was fixing his truck, and how Cas might even let Dean–
Yeah, no , Dean was not going down that train of thought. And he really didn’t think he could just wait this spell out until it went away, especially if he wanted to keep his relationship with Cas intact.
So that just left the Archives. Dean would hunker down, find every book that mentioned love spells and their cures, and he’d cure himself. Before Cas or Sam found out.
(Cas would probably have some pointed questions about the seemingly delayed effects, meanwhile Sam would be smug and unbearable, because Sam told Dean that the witch probably did something, and Dean wasn’t about to let the kid’s head get any bigger.)
“Dean?”
Dean jumped at the sound of Cas’s voice, sliding out from underneath the truck and resisting the urge to fix his hair.
“What’s up, Cas?”
“Are you already finished?” Cas almost sounded disappointed.
Dean stood up, wiping his sweaty palm on his denim-clad leg. “Not yet. I’m still putting on the finishing touches.”
Cas’s eyes darted back up to Dean’s face, like he’d been entranced by the movement of Dean’s hand. Yeah, the heat in Dean’s chest wasn’t going away anytime soon.
“The farmer’s market,” Cas blurted out. “That’s where I was going to go. Since I don’t have a truck, perhaps you’d be willing to take me.”
Dean’s breath caught in his throat. The Archives could wait. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
Dean never thought he’d be caught dead at a farmer’s market, but there’s something incredibly captivating about how freaking adorable Cas was. He made small talk with all the vendors, bouncing from stall to stall like a bee in a field of flowers. The way his eyes lit up when he saw some new, fascinating thing, the way he tugged Dean along by his wrist, the way that small, fond smile never seemed to leave Cas’s face…
By the time Dean and Cas returned to the Impala, with Dean having volunteered to carry Cas’s bags, he was drowning in the desires of the spell– if that’s all it was– and one starry-eyed look from Cas away from pushing Cas up against a wall and leaning in.
He got that starry-eyed look when he pulled into the garage of the Bunker.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, voice low and soft, all too close.
Kiss him.
Dean cleared his throat. “No problem, man. Glad I could help.”
“It was nice being there with you.” Another heartfelt confession, another chip taken out of Dean’s reasons to disobey the voice in his head. “I like spending time with you.”
“Me too.”
How had Cas gotten even closer? For the first time, Dean was starting to hate the bench seats. Cas’s eyes were deep blue and sparkling, darting down unmistakably towards Dean’s lips, and Dean could feel the warmth of Cas’s body bleeding off of him.
Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.
Dean licked his lips. He wanted to. It barely even felt like it was the spell driving him forward, closer to Cas.
Kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him–
“Cas.”
Dean felt frozen in place, except for the magnetic force pulling him further into Cas’s space.
Cas looked up at Dean through his lashes. His lips, pink and inviting, were a scant few inches from Dean’s, and everything in Dean was screaming to just let Cas close the distance, take what they both clearly wanted.
Everything in Dean, including the spell.
The spell.
Cas would never want this, not like this. He’d be pissed when he found out Dean was under a spell, either at himself, or at Dean for not telling Cas, and he’d never want to kiss Dean again.
“Cas,” Dean repeated. His voice sounded husky in his own ears. “Stop.”
The effect was instantaneous. The starry look and smile dropped from Cas’s face, replaced by an unreadable expression, and Cas disappeared from Dean’s personal space, pressing himself up against the passenger side door as if trying to put as much space as possible between them. Dean’s fingers– no, the spell– Dean didn’t know – itched to reach out and pull Cas back in, kiss that stony look on his face right off.
“Of course,” Cas said. “I shouldn’t have–”
“There’s something I need to tell you and Sam.”
God, Sam was going to be unbearable. But at least with his help, once Dean was cured, he and Cas could see this kissing thing through.
Cas’s eyes flashed with concern, and he straightened. “I’ll go get him.”
Dean had never seen his brother so utterly confused, exasperated, and disappointed in him.
“Let me get this straight– you’ve been enchanted for nine days and you only just now told us?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I told you, I didn’t realize until today!”
“You didn’t realize you suddenly wanted to bang Cas?” Sam asked, voice disbelieving and face…Bitch-facing.
Dean bit his tongue and resolutely didn’t meet Cas’s eyes. “It wasn’t about boning him! It was about– I don’t know, keeping him happy. Doing stuff for him. Physical affection.”
Cas looked away– not that he’d been able to meet Dean’s eyes since he explained the love spell. Rejection stung in Dean’s chest, his skin hot with it.
“We should check the Archives,” Sam decided, pointedly ignoring the lack of Dean and Cas’s usual staring-contest routine. “The Men of Letters are bound to have an entry on this. Hopefully the delayed reaction will be a distinct enough trait.”
Dean looked at Sam sheepishly. “I’m not sure how delayed it actually was. It’s gradual. I was definitely in love with Cas yesterday, but, uh, not like this.”
Sam cursed under his breath. “Well, it’s a start, anyway. I can call Rowena, see what she knows about it. I’ll meet you guys in the library.”
Sam left, already pulling out his phone, and if Dean hadn’t been so focused on Cas, he might’ve completely missed Cas trying to disappear as soon as Sam finished talking.
Dean chased after him anyway. “Cas, wait!”
Cas turned around, glaring holes into the concrete wall beside Dean's head. "I'd prefer to be left alone."
"I'm not going to try to kiss you again, if that's what you're worried about," Dean sniped.
Cas's frown deepened. "What happened in the Impala was a mistake. If I had known--"
"Yeah, I know, that's why I told you." Mistake . The spell-voice hissed the word in Dean's ear, squeezing his heart with it. Dean sighed. "Look, can we just talk about this?"
"Shouldn't you be helping Sam find the cure?"
"Oh, real mature, Cas."
Cas's jaw clenched. "Just leave me alone."
That ugly heat in Dean's chest flared up again, even as his legs itched to follow Cas's orders.
Cas turned away and continued down the hallway without ever looking back.
"Fine," Dean muttered. He headed for the library, trying to ignore the now-painful heat in his chest.
The spell was getting worse. The longer Dean sat cooped up in the library, getting grilled by an annoyed brother, the more his bones ached to see Cas again. Dean was pretty sure the only thing keeping him from racing to find Cas was the fact that Cas had ordered him to go away.
“How did you seriously not notice you were enchanted sooner?” Sam said, pulling a fresh lore book off the shelf and thumbing through the index.
“I told you, it was gradual.” Dean’s eyes were starting to glaze over the tiny text in front of him. He shut the book, stretching out in the armchair. God, he hated research.
“Still, you didn’t think it was at all weird when you started dreaming about kissing him?”
“It wasn’t exactly the witch that started that,” Dean snapped.
Even with his eyes on the ceiling, he could feel Sam staring at him.
“That might be the spell talking,” Sam said carefully.
Dean snorted. He righted himself in the chair again, finding his place in the book again instead of meeting Sam’s gaze. “I know when it’s the spell talking. That wasn’t it.”
“‘That’? What happened between you and Cas?”
Dean glared at him, and Sam raised his hands defensively, saying, “What? It’ll help us figure out what specific spell you got hit with.”
Dean couldn’t exactly argue with that. “He told me he wanted his truck fixed, and I got jealous, angry. I realized that the reaction wasn’t actually me but something else. Like a little voice in my head, telling me what to do. I left the room to cool off–”
“‘Cool off’?” Sam perked up. “Did you feel literally hot?”
Dean frowned. “Yeah, actually.” He glanced down at his chest, like there would suddenly be glowing embers there. “I feel it now. Does that mean something?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. Keep going.”
“Cas and I went to the farmer’s market– shut up, I’m enchanted, okay– and then we got back to the Impala and…” Dean’s throat suddenly went dry, thinking of the almost-kiss.
“You kissed, didn’t you?” Sam guessed. “That’s why Cas was so weird.”
“I didn’t let it get that far,” Dean admitted.
Sam nodded, looking sympathetic. Dean kind of wanted to punch that expression off his face.
“Whatever,” Dean grunted. “I’m assuming none of that helped, so we’re still back at square one.”
“Actually, I think I figured out what spell it is.”
Dean shot to his feet. “What? How?”
“It was the heat thing that tipped me off–”
“Then why’d you make me keep talking?” Dean scowled.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Just listen to this passage– the spell causes obsessive feelings to gradually grow. When the victim gets rejected, their obsession burns them up from the inside out.”
“That sounds right. Please tell me there’s an easy cure.”
“I think we actually have all the ingredients right here in the Bunker.” Sam shut the book, grinning. His smile fell slightly, as he regarded Dean’s expression. “And I’ll talk to Cas about what happened earlier.”
Sam was freaking lousy at “talking to Cas”. From the moment Dean left the library to the moment Sam performed the cure, Dean didn’t even see a swish of beige trench coat. The heated feeling worsened, and Dean barely slept, chest aching and thoughts racing.
“Feel better?” Sam asked, setting down the spellbook.
Dean looked down at himself. He definitely felt a lot cooler now, and he couldn’t pinpoint that hissing voice telling him to go beg Cas for forgiveness. “It worked.”
Sam sagged in relief. “Good. Are you still…?”
“In love with Cas? Yeah. But it’s just me.”
Sam nodded, then checked his watch. “You should go to the kitchen.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Just trust me.”
Cas was in the kitchen. “Sam, why did you–” His voice cut off as he saw it was Dean standing in the doorway, not Sam. Cas straightened, holding himself awkwardly, not meeting Dean’s eyes. Dean was starting to get frustratingly used to this treatment. “Hello, Dean. Sam told me he’d meet me here.”
“I’m cured, if you’re wondering. No thanks to you.”
Cas bristled. “I thought it would be best if I stayed out of the way, so I wouldn’t make the curse any worse.”
“Right,” Dean drawled. “How selfless.”
“I’m glad you’re okay but I should get back–”
“No, you’re not going anywhere!” Dean snapped.
“Are you going to stop me?” Cas retorted, eyes flashing with cold hardness.
“You know what? Screw you, Cas. You don’t get to be angry with me just because you almost kissed me.”
“I’m not angry with you–”
“Really? Because it sure as hell seems like it.”
Cas glared in reply, and Dean rolled his eyes, biting back a bitter laugh.
“Sorry, buddy, but that’s not going to work on me anymore. Spell’s gone, remember?”
“I’m not angry at you,” Cas repeated, though his tone said otherwise. “I’m angry with myself. I should’ve realized you were under–”
“That’s why I told you! So we could avoid this whole thing, with you feeling guilty about ‘taking advantage of me’. Well, newsflash , Cas, but if you had kissed me yesterday, you wouldn’t have done anything I didn’t want you to do. You could do it right now , and you wouldn’t be doing anything I didn’t want you to.”
Cas’s head jerked up. Apparently the statement was so shocking that he could actually stand to look Dean in the eyes again. “You said you were cured.”
“I am. But I’ve been in love with you for a lot longer than two weeks. Why do you think it took so long for me to realize I’d been enchanted?” Dean said.
Cas said nothing, but his piercing blue eyes scanned Dean’s face, as if looking for any sign of the curse.
“What do you want, a signed affidavit from Sam?”
“I didn’t think I could have this,” Cas admitted softly. “When you told me about the spell, everything made sense. How else would you love me back?”
The lingering anger and resentment and frustration bled out of Dean, like a popped balloon wheezing its last breath as it sunk to the floor. Dean took a step towards Cas, taking one of Cas’s hands in his. Cas stared up at him, eyes bright with hope.
“You’ve had me for years. So what are you going to do with me?”
Cas reached up, cradling Dean’s cheek with his calloused hand, and Dean leaned into the touch. Cas murmured, “I believe you owe me a kiss.”
Dean was all too happy to oblige. And it was totally worth waiting for.