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Dean sat on the worn leather couch in the bunker, feet propped up on the coffee table, eyes glued to the flickering screen as an old Western movie played. The grainy film transported him to dusty saloons, clashing revolvers, and lone sheriffs riding into sunsets. He loved these moments—the simplicity and ruggedness of the characters. A quiet contentment settled over him as he sipped his beer, lost in the film's nostalgia.
Beside him, Castiel sat, not nearly as entranced by the movie as he was by Dean himself. The angel had seen countless worlds and even universes, but nothing captivated him quite like watching Dean. His sharp features softened in the glow of the screen, and his green eyes were wide with boyish enthusiasm that Castiel rarely saw. In moments like these, Dean let his guard down, even just a little, and Castiel found it impossibly endearing.
Dean let out a chuckle at some dry quip from the movie, and Castiel’s gaze flickered from his lips to his eyes, admiring the ease in his expression. He found himself leaning slightly closer, drawn to the warmth that radiated from Dean, the subtle magnetism that always pulled him in.
"You know," Dean said, still not looking away from the screen, "These old Westerns… they don't make 'em like this anymore. Just a man, his horse, and the wild frontier. Simple life, y'know?"
Castiel tilted his head, his voice soft. "You like the idea of simplicity, don't you?"
Dean finally glanced over, catching the intense focus in Castiel's eyes. He chuckled again, though this one was quieter, more self-conscious. "Yeah, well… life's anything but simple, Cas."
For a moment, they just looked at each other, the movie forgotten. Castiel's gaze held something more profound, making Dean's chest tighten just a bit.
"You ever think," Dean asked, his voice lower, more serious now, "About what it'd be like? A life like that?"
Castiel's eyes never left his. "I think," he said slowly, "I'd want to experience it with you."
Dean’s breath hitched. It wasn’t the first time Cas had said something that hit him square in the heart, but the weight of it—the sincerity, the quiet devotion—made Dean’s usual bravado falter.
He swallowed hard, turning back to the TV, but his heart was still racing. The movie played on, but it might have been a distant hum. All Dean could think about now was the presence next to him—the way Castiel watched him like he was the most important thing in the room.
And maybe, just maybe, Dean was starting to feel the same way.
Dean’s mind spun with Castiel’s words, the quiet hum of the movie barely registering. He had always been good at deflecting, brushing things off with a joke or a smirk, but this time, the weight of Castiel’s gaze made it impossible to ignore.
He could feel the warmth radiating off Cas and hear the steady rhythm of his breathing so close. Dean turned his head slowly, eyes locking onto Castiel's once more. There was a vulnerability there that took him by surprise—an openness that Cas reserved only for him. Dean felt something shift inside him at that moment, something he had kept buried for too long.
“Cas…” he began, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He didn’t know how to say what he was feeling, didn’t know how to put into words the rush of emotions that flooded him all at once. But maybe he didn’t need to.
Castiel moved just a fraction closer, always attuned to Dean in ways he couldn’t explain. The space between them felt charged, like the world had narrowed to just the two. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, and without thinking, he leaned in, closing the gap.
It was a soft kiss, tentative at first as if testing the waters. Dean’s lips brushed against Castiel’s, and for a moment, everything else fell away—the weight of their past, the chaos of their lives, the uncertainty of the future. None of it mattered. All that existed was the warmth of Castiel’s mouth on his, the way his hand came up to gently cup the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him in just a little closer.
Dean sighed into the kiss, his shoulders relaxing as something inside him finally clicked into place. He deepened the kiss, letting himself sink into it fully, savouring how Cas responded, soft and sure. It was sweet, tender, and filled with all the unspoken words they had never quite been able to say.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, the faint glow of the TV casting soft shadows around them. Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and he found Castiel looking at him with a mixture of awe and affection that made his chest tighten again.
“Guess I’ve been a little slow on the uptake,” Dean murmured with a slight, self-deprecating grin.
Castiel’s lips curved into the slightest smile, his thumb brushing gently against Dean’s neck. “I’ve waited for you, Dean. I’ll always wait.”
Dean closed his eyes again, a quiet laugh escaping him, but it was full of warmth, full of something he wasn’t afraid to feel anymore. He leaned in, pressing one last soft kiss to Castiel’s lips before resting his head against the couch, pulling Cas closer to his side.
The movie continued to play in the background, but now, Dean was no longer lost in the film. He was lost in the moment, in the quiet contentment of just being here—with Castiel, finally letting himself feel everything he’d been too scared to admit for so long.
For the first time in a long time, life felt a little simpler, a little more like home.