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"You do realize that you don't have to do this, right?"
Dean sighs, looking at Cas's reflection in the mirror (at the reflection of him sitting on the bed and furrowing his brow at Dean), then back down to straightening the Starfleet insignia he's pinned to his jacket. This one's his favorite: the one with the engraved pips that mark him as a lieutenant in the same way that his red shirt (for all it's not from his uniform) marks him as a member of Scotty's boys in Operations. Even if he's not going into something official—even if he's just going home to Lawrence, home to see Mom, and even if Jim's following him as Jim, himself, not as Captain Kirk or as a Starfleet officer, much less as Dean's CO—Dean likes to have this little reminder that he's not a total screw-up.
"Dean," Cas insists with a sigh, wilting into the headboard and folding his hands in his lap. "Captain Kirk has no authority to make you tell your mother about what your father put you through. He has no authority to involve himself in your personal life, much less to make anything he says in this vein a direct order. You do not have to do this."
"That's assuming that I don't want to do it, Gorgeous. And I don't know—I mean, you don't know—I mean… maybe I want to do it, okay, Cas? Like, seriously. Maybe Jim's right and it's about high time I told Mom the truth so she can make decisions about how to handle it for herself."
"While I admit it's possible that you might have changed your mind, I somewhat doubt it. It has been difficult enough to get you to change your mind about anything regarding this situation—not to mention the challenge of getting you to admit that what your father did was wrong and hardly your fault. Forgive me if I'm not convinced that your going out to Kansas with the Captain has nothing to do with his attempt at abusing his power over you."
"Well, he's not abusing his power if he rescinded the so-called direct order, is he? If we're only going because I want to and because I invited him?"
Cas hums, thinks about that for a moment. "I suppose not."
"Those telepathy-training sessions with Spock must be getting to you or something," Dean says, arching an eyebrow back at Cas, throwing on a playful smirk. He might as well make a joke out of this, for all the good it's likely to do him. "You're starting to talk like him a little bit. Not a lot—and don't get me wrong, you're adorable and all—but… it's there."
For a moment, all Cas does is blink at Dean and tilt his head. Then, he shakes himself around and says, "That is yet another issue that I have with how this is happening. If you're intent on doing this, then Commander Spock or Doctor McCoy would be much better companions for you… Your admiration for the Captain is, as always, endearing—but I somehow think that his penchant for going headlong into situations and trampling all over them might be a detriment to the conversation you wish to have with your mother. …Or I wouldn't mind going along with you, if you wanted."
Cas is trying his best not to let it show in his voice, but it's pretty obvious, what he isn't saying: Dean, I really wish that you would take me along with you. But that's completely out of the question, at least for now. Even if they go a while before Dean gets another chance to see Mom in person, there's no way in Hell that Cas is coming along with him right now. Not to this meeting.
"It's not like I don't know you'd handle it well," Dean explains, "because… yeah, okay, you're part-Vulcan and you'd still handle it better than Jim's probably going to do, but…" He pauses. Sighs. "It's just hard to explain, okay? But Jim's taking this all pretty hard, too. And I don't think he trusts me to really talk to Mom? And… he's basically family, y'know? He's like my cool uncle who just isn't genetically related to me. It's important to him to be there for me—and I want him to be there, too, okay?"
When all Cas does in response is give Dean another hmm, Dean huffs and smoothes the wrinkles out of his t-shirt, then his jacket. There's no sense in putting on anything too fancy for this meeting, but still… He hasn't seen Mom in months.
At that, the last time they talked, it was in some video transmission she got a chance to send from the Venture while the Enterprise was on another shore leave, the one they took at Starbase 21. Dean might not be gussying himself up to look his best—he might not be able to manage that right now even with all the spit and polish of an officer's dress uniform, not when he's still had trouble sleeping and not when the weight he's lost from working himself sick hasn't really come back on yet—but… she's his Mom. He doesn't want her to worry and, more than that, he wants to impress her. To see her smile and to hear her say that she's proud of him. To know that she's met his boyfriend in the best possible way and that they like each other.
Next thing he knows, though, he's got Cas's hand gripping him on the shoulder, spinning him around away from the mirror. He's got Cas's huge, blue eyes locking on his, and searching them. He's got Cas's lips pressing into his own, then Cas sucking on his lower lip—and that's enough skin-on-skin contact for Cas's telepathy thing to kick in. Or maybe it's only happening because Cas wants it to. Whatever the reason, though, Dean gets a full blast of it—first, some warm feeling washes over him in waves, and then the images come instead… little snippets, like the first time he held Cas's ungloved hand (complete with knowledge of how much trust in Cas that showed), like the first time they kissed (and how Dean pressed on, kept kissing Cas, even knowing what memories Cas's telepathy had stumbled into).
And just like that, it's all gone. Cas brushes the backs of his fingers down Dean's cheek without making Dean feel anything, see any images. "Just take care of yourself first, Dean," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "And don't allow the Captain to push you around in any way. Because I'll say again: he doesn't have that right. Especially when he's only there as your guest."
Dean sighs, and nods. Seals the promise with another kiss, and a whisper of his own: "Remind me to send Spock a 'thank you' basket or something when I get back from this, okay? I've missed kissing without the threat of it turning into another mind-meld."
Cas rolls his eyes, then arches a pointed eyebrow as if to ask Dean, am I supposed to be impressed with you right now? "That's a bad joke," he says, squeezing Dean's shoulder. "Hurry up, or you'll be late."