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Carving Enochian sigils into the Winchester's ribs had, for the most part, been a good decision. Of course it had. It kept them safe from the angels and demons that may want to hunt them down, to drag them to Michael or Lucifer. Though there was, of course, also the downside that it prevented Castiel from finding them with the same ease he had managed before.
There would always be a connection to them, and to Dean. A swirl of energy that followed behind Cas - the name one he had taken on quite happily, bestowed by his friends - like a scent that can't quite be identified. The feeling of Sam and Dean. Before the sigils, he could reach for the whisp, wrap his hands among its warm strands, and follow it back to wherever they may be. Now, those strands seem to spread, reaching in all directions, one end coiling around Cas, embracing him with no clear source to be followed back to.
The one place he can always follow them back to is the Winchesters' dreams. The images, scenes, memories that flitter behind their closed eyes. Cas can feel it now, the pulsing of those images behind his own eyes. Dean is asleep, he can tell, dreaming of something in a deep red, but not the red of violence and blood. It's pleasant, knowing Dean dreams peacefully, tonight, at least.
Last time Cas had called Dean while he was sleeping, he'd gotten little more than a grumpy sigh and demand as to whether what he was calling about was actually important, instead of the Winchesters' location, as he had hoped. If he wishes to talk to the Winchesters tonight, he may have to find another way to get in contact.
He reaches out, wrapping his hand around the whips of energy, of dreams that coil around him, pulling himself to where Dean's mind rests.
He finds himself on a stage, women dancing around in him clothing that cannot be practical. They move, rhythmically, swaying, dancing in a way Cas recognises from Dean's attempt at taking him to a strip club. Tight clothing, revealing, dipping down at the chest, rising up at the waist, the hips, accentuated all the more by the swaying. A dream of skin and deep red in tight clothing and lust.
The dancers part, leaving Cas exposed, standing before Dean on the stage. He knows the moment Dean spots him as lust relaxes into calm.
He expects a greeting, a reaction beyond a shift in expression, but Dean just leans further back in his seat, watching Cas with a small smile. Even as Cas shifts closer, looking down at Dean from the edge of the stage, there's no real acknowledgement of his presence, his otherness to the contents of this dream.
Dean still seems wrapped in his dream, watching Cas, fully dressed and staring at him from the edge of a strip club's stage.
"Hello, Dean." The words come out quieter than he had intended, seeming barely a whisper in the quiet of the strip club. Dean still doesn't acknowledge Cas's otherness, just smiling more, tilting his head up to meet Cas's gaze.
"Hey, Cas." Dean's voice is just as soft, gentle in a way he rarely is while conscious. His face reflecting that, warmth, gentle warmth.
The dream shifts, and Cas finds himself standing before Dean, the edge of the stage against his back, Dean's knees knocking against his. Dean gets to his feet, moving slowly through air thick with something Cas can't identify. Warm, with a hint of the lust from before remaining.
The space between seats and stage really isn't big enough for two grown men, so they stand, Dean's chest almost pressed to his. Cas vaguely remembers Dean's lessons about personal space, wondering if he ought to take a step away, yet Dean doesn't seem to mind how his breath blows against Cas's lips as he always had before.
"Cas." Barely a whisper, the words spoken inches from Cas's face, the warm air of them on his lips. There's a hand on his arm, running up it, fingers brushing the fabric of the trenchcoat, feeling for what's underneath. Fingertips brush over the collar, feeling around the edges of it, dipping under, brushing against his shirt, his neck.
Dean lets out a breath, his head dipped to watch his hand's path, warm air on Cas's neck. His other hand finds Cas's, fingers touching, feeling, interlocking. His eyes met Cas's, reverent.
"Dean," Cas watches him, hands reaching to wrap themselves in Cas's tie, "Where are you and Sam? There are developments that need to be discussed."
Dean pauses, then, all at once, is dragged out of his reverie. Hands pulled away, he steps backwards, shock clear in his features. "Cas?! What the hell?!" He stares at Cas, hands clenching and unclenching, eyes wide and looking more and more like he wants to punch something by the second. "Don't poke around in my dreams!"
"You don't like me calling you when you're sleeping." Cas explains, head tilted. His eyes follow the slight flush in Dean's checks, how it makes his freckles stand out against reddened skin. "And I needed to find you and Sam."
"So wait till I wake up! Don't do this Inception crap." Cas doesn't understand the reference, though the sentiment is clear enough. "Get the hell out. I'll... I'll call you when I wake up."
Dean still looks like he wants to punch something, his face flushed. He looks mortified, though by what Cas can't quite seem to work out. Perhaps he broke the boundaries he'd so clearly set, though this means little to Cas, and it isn't like its rare for them to touch.
They're often touching when together. Arms brushing together as they walk, Dean grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket to lead him around, reaching out to button up Cas's shirt and fix his tie when they need to look smart, guiding his hands to teach him intricacies of life away from heaven. There's nothing new to standing close, hands on arms, fingertips on collars.
Perhaps Sam could explain why this is any different. Cas suspects Dean wouldn't if asked, judging by how his expression flitters between angry and mortified.
Sam appears to be awake, and staying in this dream with Dean doesn't seem like it'll serve any purpose, now all Dean's doing is glaring and staying silence, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides. So Cas allows himself to slip out of the dream, reaching for the cheap phone in his pockets.
Buying the thing had been a chore. Dean had run him through how shops worked, beyond the few general impressions Cas had gotten from watching over earth, had grabbed Jimmy's wallet out of Cas's pocket, shoving a few new cards into his hand, along with a handful of cash and a comment about not spending it all at once. Still, the cashier had sighed at him when he stared blankly at the machine he was supposed to put his card into and ended up talking him through it like he was a child.
His list of contacts isn't long; Dean, Sam, Bobby. Dean had only given him one number for each of them, to begin with, though he knew they each had other phones. He'd only put those main numbers into his contacts, but he'd remembered the rest. Just in case.
He clicks on Sam's, putting it up to his ear. It rings, and rings and rings, and then there's the sound of it being picked up and Sam's voice, tired and crackling slightly down the phone line. "Cas? What's up?"
"Where are you and Dean?" Sam is more cooperative than Dean had been, letting out a yawn before giving him the address. Cas is unsuprised to hear they're at a motel.
Cas flies, landing beside Sam with the phone still pressed to his ear. Sam gives a small wave, putting his phone down on the table beside his open laptop. Researching, presumably. Dean did always say Sam enjoyed research. "Is there something you needed, Cas?"
Dean himself is asleep in bed, on the other side of the motel room. His face turned towards them, Cas can see his cheeks are flushed slightly, a frown lit by the light from Sam's computer. Cas can't see his freckles as he could in the dream, with only that light, but he can still see embarrassment, lining Dean's face. He wonders if he could smooth those lines out with his fingers, as Dean smoothed out the lines of his shirt.
"Cas?"
He turns Sam. "I believe I may have angered Dean." He shifts, taking a seat at the end of Sam's bed. Dean had somewhat told him off for standing around all the time when talking to them, though he hadn't given any reasoning besides the fact that it's just kinda weird. "Though I'm not sure what I did."
Sam nods, turning away from the laptop to focus fully on Cas. He's not entirely sure how he's ended up with a life where explaining social etiquette to an angel is normal. Cas looks midly perturbed by whatever happened. "Yeah, okay, that happens. What did you do that made him angry?"
Cas explains it, everything that happened in Dean's dream. Sam doesn't seem surprised that his brother dreams of strippers, though his expression grows more surprised and amused as Cas continues explaining the interaction.
"So... you let Dean... feel you up?" Sam is grinning, Cas tilts his head, his face scrunching up in confusion. "Right, okay," Sam forces a serious expression onto his face, pausing in an attempt to figure out how to explain it, "friends don't usually touch each other like that."
"Dean touches me on a regular basis." Arms touching, fixing a tie, dragging Cas along. A hand on an arm, a shoulder, his back. None of this is considered weird, or worth getting angry about, it seems.
Sam sigh. "Right, yeah, just... he usually has a reason, right? Like, something to make him do it. Maybe he doesn't always need to, but there's something." That seems true enough: hanging him things, guiding him, reassuring him. "In his dream, he was just touching you because he wanted to."
Cas nods slowly. "Why would that make him angry?"
"He's probably just embarrassed." Sam shrugs, glancing over to where Dean's still sleeping.
"Because friends usually don't do that." Cas is nodding as though Sam's imparted some great wisdom on him, deep knowledge on the inner workings of Dean Winchester's mind.
The conversation moves on. Sam asks about why Cas was trying to contact them in the first place, Cas answers, though keeps glancing back over to Dean regularly, a frown crossing his face.
Dean has always placed boundaries in their relationship. Taught Cas about personal space, taking a step back instead of standing so close he can feel Dean's breath on his face. He'd come to understand this was simply what was expected of their relationship and had allowed himself to take the place Dean had deemed to be his. A gap between them, except when they stood shoulder to shoulder. No touching, unless something else gave them a reason, in which case there was nothing wrong with hands lingering for just a moment longer than may be needed.
Touching out of simple want was new, though Cas found he'd have no issue making that space his own as well, if Dean allowed it. Stood close, not just so shoulders brushed, but so breath warmed faces, so hands and knuckles knock together. Hands running over shoulders, sketching out the shape and feel of collars and necks in more than just sight. Hand holding.
The hand holding was, perhaps, the most unusual part of the interaction. Feeling Dean's hand in his own, fingers interlocking, holding him close by. Cas thought of holding Dean's hand, running a thumb over his knuckles, gently tracing out the edge of the scars across them, the result of a lifetime of punching and violence. Perhaps pressing them to his lips. He had heard of "kissing it better" and while it didn't seem like a good medical practice, he would like to watch the pain drain for each of Dean's scars as lips passed over them.
How many scars did Dean carry that may be soothed with a press of smooth lips to battered skin?
Perhaps just as many as Cas would hold, if his grace didn't knit broken skin together before the marks became another part of his vessel. If his vessel carried marks of all that had been inflicted upon him before he'd taken it.
Perhaps Dean could do the same for him. While he may not carry those marking on his vessel, on his grace, he knew he could mark out each wound he'd had by memory, tracing where his flesh should be marred by pale scar tissue. Perhaps Dean would allow him to indicate each one in turn and press his lips to them, let the pain drift away.
It is a pleasant thought.
For the first time, Cas finds himself wishing angels were able to sleep, to dream as humans do, so he could dream of Dean, outside of the space he had allowed for himself. The space, always a step away from Cas, except from when they stood shoulder to shoulder, where touching was only allowed when there was reason for it.
There's a groan from Dean's bed. Dean wakes quickly, never one to lie around in bed once his eyes have opened. He sits up, stretching, reaching one hand under his pillow to make sure his gun is still there.
"Morning." Sam calls, looking up from where he'd been reading something on his laptop. "Found us a case, few hours drive away. You want to come with, Cas?"
Dean spins around like he'd heard a gun go off, eyes fixing on Cas, still perched at the end of Sam's bed. He flushes slightly, looking away from Cas. "What? No. I'm sure Cas has... angel stuff to do. We can handle it."
Sam gives an amused huff, grinning. Dean's big brother sense clearly notices something is weird, and he frowns, squinting at Sam, then at Cas. "You told him?" Dean stares at Cas, incredulous.
Sam answers before Cas can, giving an innocent smile, though it's bordering on an amused grin. "Told me what, Dean?" He asks, giving an almost believable act of confusion, if it wasn't for how his face threatens to split into a grin.
"Fuck both of you."
Dean grabs a towel with one hand, flips them off with another and heads into the bathroom.
---
Sam tells Cas where the case they're heading to is before they leave, and calls him when they arrive to give him the motel and room number. Cas thanks him for it, glad he can visit when he pleases, rather than having to figure out contacting the Winchesters for their location again. He cam hear Dean in the background, grumbling about research, as Sam talks, but he doesn't talk to Cas, doesn't take the phone when Sam offers it with a teasing tone.
Cas is familiar with embarrassment. The feeling of failing to live up to social expectations. He's used to feeling it whenever he works along, without Dean by his side. The constant undercurrent of it as he talks to people, trying to fit what they expect of him yet always falling short. Dean always makes things easier, takes over when Cas doesn't know the correct answer, smooths over any embarrassment left over when he falls short anyway.
It's a feeling he can live with, though certainly not the best thing he's experienced since leaving heaven.
He can respect Dean's wishes for some space, to smooth those feelings over in himself.
Dean dreams in the nights following, of course. Sometimes, it's dreams of violence, blood red and stinging. Cas reaches for those strands of energy that coil around him, sending a little of his grace to try and warm Dean, to calm him and his racing mind, on those nights he needs it. A little angelic power to grant Dean peaceful rest in those few hours he does sleep.
Some nights, the dreams are peaceful. Those nights, Cas finds himself wanting to do more than wrap his hands in their energy. Wants to find himself in them, standing before Dean as he had before, where no eyes but theirs can see them. To see if Dean would take him hand again, let him stand closer than the space he allowed him.
But that isn't what friends usually do. That's what Sam had said. Friends don't usually stand so close they can feel each breath the other takes, don't memorise the lines of the other's hand in theirs, each mark and freckle on the other's face. And Cas wants to be Dean's friend. It seems, after all, that friendship is what Dean is willing to give, and Cas will not allow his desire for something else to ruin that.
Yet, images still flitter behind Cas's eyes. Dreams, not of violence, but of calmer moments. Warm and happy.
A coil of energy flows around Cas's hand, and he allows himself to follow it.
He finds himself in another strip club, though not the one from the previous dream, but the one Dean had taken him to in his attempt to not have Cas die a virgin.
It looks how Cas remembers. He can see himself and Dean, sat at a small table off to the side, pretty woman wandering around in impractical clothing. Cas stays off to the edges, where Dean can't see him.
Dream-Cas looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, terrified of his surroundings, and Cas wonders if his face always shows his feelings so clearly. Dean is laughing and reassuring Dream-Cas, who keeps staring at the barely dressed woman like they'll bite him.
One if the women comes up to them, and Dean sends Dream-Cas off with a handful of money and instructions.
A few minutes later, as Cas remembers, there's the sound of the woman shouting at him, and Dream-Cas and Dean get kicked out.
The dream shifts to the two of them in the alley outside. Dean's bent over, laughing, Dream-Cas watching him with mild confusion. When Dean manages to stand up again, he looks over at Cas and continues chuckling to himself. "Guess we, ah-" He let's out a laugh. "Guess we didn't do too well at that whole "last night on earth" thing."
That's different from what Cas remembers. He moves closer, hiding himself from Dean's gaze.
Dream-Cas speaks. "The idea was a fun last night. I believe we achieved that." Dean stands up fully, still grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah, I guess we did, didn't we?"
Dream-Cas takes a step foreward, letting his hand touch against Dean's. There's a moment before Dean takes it with a look a happy confusion. Dream-Cas takes another step closer, leaning in so he's almost whispering into Dean's ear.
"Any night would be a good one, so long as its with you."
Cas watches Dean's reaction carefully. Perhaps the words came from a version of him Dean dreamed up, but he knows them to be true. They echo inside him, touching at a ball of warmth within his chest, a core he's built himself around. One of deep caring. He learnt that from watching Dean. From standing beside him through it all.
The moment's calm, but there's still that fizzle of excitement, still laughter on Dean's lips. He's still smiling brightly, and Cas can't help but follow.
Another thing he learnt from Dean. Fun. To an angel, the idea was foreign - deplorable, even. Acts done not for the results, but the simple enjoyment of doing.
While meeting with the Winchesters previously, Sam had ended up mentioning pillow fights. When Cas had looked confused, Dean had grinned and whacked him around the head with a cushion grabbed from Bobby's sofa. By the time Bobby had wheeled himself in, Dean had been stood on the sofa, cushion held aloft, Cas methodically hitting him around the stomach with his own. Sam, between bouts of laughter, had made a comment about Dean making an Angel of The Lord into a teenage girl. Dean threw his cushion at him.
Bobby had taken one look at the scene, and wheeled himself out, yelling at them not to break anything.
Cas had never before considered that there would be enjoyment in being repeatedly hit over the head with a cushion.
Dean's smile somehow grows more, staring at Dream-Cas like be hung the stars in the sky, and Cas feels a strange fluttering in his chest seeing it. Dean looking happier than he's ever seen it before, glowing with it as a result of words that echo within Cas.
"Yeah?"
"Yes, Dean."
Dean tightens his grip around Dream-Cas's hand, beaming at him and Dream-Cas gives a soft smile back. The two stay like that, hand in hand, until the dream fades and Dean wakes.
---
He visits Dean's dreams again the next night.
He follows that strand on energy and finds himself in a motel room, just like all the others he's seen the Winchesters staying in. Though, unlike most they stay in, it only has one bed. Cas hides himself in the corner, pulling on his grace to disguise himself.
Dean is there, with another Dream-Cas. He's sat on the bed, laptop on his lap, grabbing Dream-Cas's sleeve. "Come on, Cas, it's a classic! You need to watch it." He indicates to the laptop, showing the opening of a movie Cas doesn't recognise.
Dream-Cas lets himself be pulled, sitting on the bed besides Dean. Dean shifts closer, putting the laptop between the two of them, grinning to himself as he starts the movie, grabbing some snacks from the bedside table. Dream-Cas seems more focused on watching Dean than the movie, Dean tells him off for it, talking about how great the opening scene is, along with a load of other information about the movie that Cas's fairly sure constitutes "spoilers".
As the movie goes on, Dean keeps pointing out important bits, making comments on characters and scenes, telling Dream-Cas interesting facts about the actors, mostly what other movies they'd been in, usually followed by "You need to watch that one too." and slowly works his way through the pile of snacks.
Sometimes, Dean would shift, getting comfortable, but each time it seems to bring him a little closer to Dream-Cas. Dream-Cas seems to mimic this behaviour, until the two end up shoulder to shoulder, watching the movie.
Dream-Cas reaches over for one of the snack, not eating it but looking over the packaging with a frown. Dean notices, saying it tastes really good, and he can have it if he wants. Dream-Cas declines, putting the snack back in Dean's lap, and leaving his hand there too, resting across Dean's legs.
Dean gives a gentle smile, turning his attention fully away from the movie, just watching Dream-Cas for a minute. He reaches down, settling his hand over the one in his lap, and leans further into Dream-Cas, settling his head down on his shoulder.
There's a moment of quiet, both looking at each other with soft eyes, before Dean goes back to watching the film, pointing out some minor character and talking about how they're really important in the sequal, but the sequal kinda sucked.
Cas watches, imagining himself in his dream counterpart's place. Dean's hand holding his, Dean's head resting on his shoulder, some movie he was never really paying attention to besides the parts Dean thought worth pointing out, telling him about.
He might be sat, hidden in the corner of Dean's dream, but the sound of Dean talking about some other movie the lead actor was in calms him. If he could sleep, he's sure he'd fall asleep listening to Dean, curled up in a crappy motel room, their own small sanctuary, away from the world.
Dean and Dream-Cas are basically curled around each other now, bodies resting together, neither of their eyes on the screen anymore, they haven't been for a while, even as Dean finds more about the film to relay to them, both Dream-Cas, and the real Cas taking it all in, remembering it, even if uts unimportant, because Dean's smiling as he talks.
It's calm in a way Cas had never found before the Winchesters, before Dean. The calm of a warm room with someone you care about, not just the spaces between battles.
Scars may still litter them, but it the warmth of that room, they're little more than skin, memories.
Cas watches Dream-Cas press a gentle kiss to the top of Dean's head, watches the resulting smile that spreads across Dean's face.
It's not perfect, but it's them.
The credits of the movie begin to roll as Dean begins to wake, the dream fading away.
---
Cas makes a stop at the Winchesters' motel room. He hadn't particularly been watching the time, but he knows both Winchesters to be awake and, judging by the sky, it must be getting onto evening, yet the room is empty.
Sam's laptop is sat on the table, open but turned off. He'd seen Sam using it before, though had always treated the machine with some small level of distrust. He can figure out the basics, on button, letter buttons. The screen lights up, asking for a password. Sam had given Cas the password before, the one time he tried to teach Cas how to use the internet. Somehow, that had ended with Cas stuck on a website full of pictures of naked women he hadn't wanted to open in the first place and couldn't get rid of.
He had, at least, learnt that the Internet is a place where you can learn things without asking people. Cas suspects that, given his reaction last time, Dean does not want him asking Sam about anything related to the dream.
He enters the password, navigating to the "browser" Sam had showed him before. This time, at least, it does not open to nude women but a news article about strange deaths in the area. He slowly finds the button to open a new tab - and somehow manages to delete all of Sam's old ones in the process - and finds himself staring at a blank space to put his questions.
"What is love?" Results in something about music coming up, and a song playing from the laptop's speakers that Cas doesn't seem able to stop. The song does not appear to contain any actually useful information. He tries to rephrase it into "what is caring?" And all that gives him is a dictionary definition.
"How do I identify love?" Gives him more useful information. It gives a nice, clear set of bullet points, all of which seem to apply to Cas, but then makes the whole thing more confusing by mentioning things about platonic and romantic love without actually clarifying the differences between the two. It also seems to refer to being in love with someone as different to just loving them, but appears to assume the reader already knows what that means.
"What is the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone?" Leads to something that actually begins explaining the differences between platonic and romantic. Reading it over, Cas is sure he loves Dean, finding it easy to fit the word and descriptions he's read to the warm feeling he has around Dean. That leaves only the question of working out if its romantic or platonic.
Cas has seen plenty of romantic relationships, being stationed on earth. Perhaps not in detail, but enough to know that people in them do things like kissing that friends don't, and seem to find it enjoyable.
Would Cas want to kiss Dean?
He remembers only a few days ago when he'd thought of kissing the scars Dean carries, pressing his lips to each one in turn until Dean stopped hurting completely. He thinks of pressing his lips to Dean's, of those times they've stood so close their breath blew over the others lips, of leaning forward those few inches, closing the gap.
He's never kissed anyone, doesn't know the feeling, yet the idea is pleasurable, if vague.
He turns back to the laptop. Sam had said that you don't have to just ask questions, but can look for things, videos, pictures, articles, you just need to write the key words in the box.
He types "kissing" and looks through the results. They do all show people kissing, however they all appear to be a man and a woman. Even if Cas isn't technically male, he is in a male vessel and has accepted what comes with that, including being viewed, treated and referred to as a man.
He changes his search to "two men kissing" and that gives him something closer to himself and Dean. He clicks on one of the links, which opens a website and begins playing a video. The men in the video do seem to be enjoying what they're doing. They seem happy, very close, one with his hands threaded through the other's hair, the other with his hands around the other's waist. It looks pleasent enough, something enjoyable.
The men in the video keep kissing as Cas watches, his head tilted slightly as he examines it. Then the men are taking each other's clothes off. And pictures of penises start covering the screen.
Cas closes the laptop.
He takes the time to contemplate everything he's learned. He loves Dean. It's likely romantic, as he feels he would quite enjoy kissing Dean. Love in confusing. And the internet is full of pornography.
A few of the websites he'd looked over had mentioned the idea of rejection, one sided romantic desires. This seems to be a major consideration on the pursuit or romantic relationships, the worry that feelings might not be reciprocated. If he were to push for more, and Dean were to reject him, would he find himself still within that space where he had to keep a few steps of space between them? Or perhaps he would lose even that, loose the brushing of shoulders, the hand gripping his sleeve to guide him.
But Dean had acted outside of platonic boundaries, in that dream. He'd touched Cas because he wanted to, stood closer than he would otherwise allow and run his hands over Cas's collar, fingertips on his neck. That seems to breach into romantic territory. If Dean was willing to do that, then perhaps that means he wouldn't reject Cas, that he'd feel the same.
Or perhaps that was one of those cases of the dreaming mind going outside of what the waking one truly desired. Something unwanted.
Though the other dreams had indicated that wasn't just a simple one off. Dean seemed to regularly dream of Cas in closer proximity than he would usually allow.
But that might not be a desire for something romantic, but simply an unorthodox platonic desire.
These thought continued, going around and around with no solid conclusion, until the Winchesters returned.
Dean paused at the door, eyes carefully looking everywhere but at Cas for a moment, while Sam strided right in with a cheerful greeting, letting Cas know that they were yet to finish the case they'd been working on - a ghost - but that they had nothing else to do tonight.
"Except getting burgers." Dean cut in, looking at Sam, rather than Cas, despite the fact that Sam, presumably, knew everything Dean was relaying. "We passed a diner on the drive back. Just gotta change first."
Sam grabbed a change of clothes, heading into the bathroom, leaving Cas and Dean alone.
"Hello, Dean." Cas watched Dean find something to fiddle with in the corner, keep his hands and mind busy. His change of clothes, it seemed. He was going through his bags, checking over the clothes, as though what he wore on some quick trip to a diner mattered when most of his clothes were similar anyway. It seemed that Cas had ended up perching on the end of Dean's bed, twisting around to watch him riffle through bags.
"Yeah, hey, Cas." A change of clothes was bundled up on the bed, and Dean settled on the bed, the opposite side to Cas. He sat too close, it seemed, as their shoulders were touching before he awkwardly shuffled his way further up the bed, away from Cas. He grabbed his gun from his pocket, fiddling with it.
The door to the bathroom opened and Dean rushed in, almost pushing Sam out of the way, carrying his change of clothes. Sam let out an amused huff, dumping his dirty clothes in a pile.
"Guess you haven't talked to him about it yet." Sam gave a small smile, turning back to the bathroom door with an amused look.
"I'm unsure of what I ought to say to him." He knows what he could say. He could tell Dean that he liked having him "feel him up", as Sam had put it, and that he'd have no issue with Dean doing it outside of his dreams. He could tell Dean he loves him, that he's in love with him. He could. Though the debate over how that may go down is still spiraling away in the back of his mind.
"Right," Sam pauses, picking up his laptop from the table. "I guess just say what you think?" Cas's face seems to give Sam some indication of what he thinks, or at least enough that he continues, "I mean, he'll get over it even if you don't. It's embarrassing, but you two are stronger than that, you know? You'll figure it out."
Dean emerges from the bathroom, still refusing to look at Cas. "Come on, let's go." Sam and Cas are promptly bundled into the car, Dean driving, of course, and blasting music loud enough that none of them can start a conversation.
The diner looks like many others Cas has seen. Like motel rooms, they appear to be almost identical across America. They take a seat at a booth, Cas on one side, Sam and Dean on the other. A pretty waitress comes over to get their order - Cas knows enough to know she's the kind Dean would usually try to hit on, but he says nothing to her besides a request for a bacon cheeseburger. She gives Cas a kind smile, though he orders nothing, saying to call her over if he changes his mind. He doesn't eat, so he finds that unlikely. He doesn't mention it.
Sam puts his laptop on the table, opens it to continue his research, then quickly snaps it shut again. "Cas, did you, uh... did you use my laptop?"
"Yes."
Sam pauses. "Right." He opens the laptop again, trying to find a way to turn it so Dean doesn't see what Cas ended up finding without showing the rest of the diner a load of penises. "You deleted all my tabs."
"It wasn't intentional."
Sam sighs, resigning himself for having to find all those news articles again. Out of curiosity, he goes to check the search history first. Cas decides to take a sip of the water the waitress had given him, if only because that seems normal. It tasts of molecules.
Sam glances up, looking between Dean and Cas. Cas is tilting the glass of water in his hands, staring at it like it owes him something, though his eyes keep flickering up to Dean, sat across from him, the lines between his eyebrows softening for a moment before he goes back to trying to find the meaning of life in his glass of water. Dean is staring out the diner's window, watching the lights of cars in the darkened parking lot or, more likely, watching Cas' reflection in the window. He's noticed that before, how their eyes seem to drift towards each other when they aren't busy focusing on something else, the same way the always end up standing shoulder to shoulder, if left in the same room long enough.
"Maybe you should talk to Dean about what you found." Sam suggests, hoping the hint gets through.
"Why would I talk to Dean about homosexual pornography?" Cas says, the hint not getting through.
The woman in the next booth chokes on her water.
Dean looks over, questioning. "Wait, you were looking at gay porn on Sam's laptop?"
"No, Cas," Sam sighs, "the stuff before that." Cas gives Sam a look that reminds him he never told Cas about a search history being a thing, so he probably didn't know that Sam could find out what he was searching before he ended up... there. That or he's trying to work out why Sam would ever think that's a good idea. Maybe both.
"I mean, I don't know about gay porn, but I can probably show you how that stuff works if you wanna look." Dean speaks up. It seems about the closest to an olive branch Cas is going to get, though he's not entierly sure how he feels about the olive branch having pictures of naked bodies attached.
"Are you offering to teach Cas about porn?" Sam asks begore Cas can consider his answer, seeming more amused by the whole thing than anything.
"What? No. That's not what I..." Dean pauses, realising that is definetly what he just said. The flush makes his freckles stand out more and Cas wishes he could lean across the table and count them. "Just, we're about to eat, let's not talk about porn."
"I don't eat." Cas helpfully supplies.
"Shut up."
---
Sam claims the shower basically as soon as the motel room door opens, grabbing his towel on the way past. Once again, Cas and Dean are left alone, though this time doesn't seem as tense as the last.
Dean takes the one chair in the place, resting his elbow agaibst the table.
"Why were you looking at gay porn?" Dean just goes out and asks. He figures that isn't the kind of question you can really prepare someone for, and Cas never really needed that kind of preamble anyway.
Since it'd been mentioned, Dean's mind has been swinging from "holy shit, did I turn a freaking angel gay?" To "shit, what if he's looking at gay porn cause he thinks I want to do that to him and he's grossed out?" He's not really sure what the correct response to finding out his best friend who he might have accidentally hit on last week is now watching gay porn and maybe - probably - connecting it back to him in some way.
He hadn't exactly been handling it great before the gay porn bit had been added. He probably wouldn't have handled Cas looking at gay porn great, even without the accidentally hitting on him bit, if he's completely honest.
He'd kept dreaming of Cas, since it happened. Kept thinking he heard the sound of wings in those dreams, too, like Cas, the real Cas, was there.
"It was unintentional." Cas sits on the end of Dean's bed, across a small aisle of floor from the table. His knees knock against Dean's slightly, his fingers almost brushing against denim where they rest on his legs. He shifts his body away slightly, pulling his hands into his lap.
"No, Cas, you don't have to-" Dean pauses, reevaluating what he was about to say. Somehow, "you don't have to stop touching me" feels a little too open. "I don't mind it." He settles on, making a vague waving notion towards their legs.
Cas shifts back, his knees knocking into Dean's again, his fingertips reaching out to brush over denim. He lets out a breath, focusing on that one, small point of contact, his thumb rubbing circles into the side of Dean's knee. Dean said it was okay, so this level of contact shouldn't be a problem.
Dean's eyes focus on thar one point as well, his hands itching to cover Cas's, hand those circles rubbed into the side of his hand, fingers tangled together. "So, what, you were just looking stuff up and gay porn appeared?"
"Humans seem to make a lot of pornography." Cas contemplates, eyes still watching his thumb, circling denim. Dean's hands move down his legs, his pinky resting just above Cas's thumb.
"Yeah, look hard enough and you'll find it just about everywhere." Dean tries to focus on Cas's face, on how his eyes are still focused on Dean's knee, the contact. Its like there's a thread that keeps pulling his head, his eyes down to where Cas's focus lies, where he hand rests. Then, Cas looks up and suddenly looking away isn't an issue anymore because there are clear, bright blue eyes staring into his. His breath hitched, the same way it always does when he sees those eyes gazing at him.
Damn Cas for choosing a vessel with those damn eyes.
"I don't mind either." Cas speaks quietly, almost a whisper, the same voice that had greeted Dean back in that dream.
Cas watches Dean and, in this moment, telling Dean he wants to touch him doesn't seem the task it had before, staring at a closed laptop. Because Dean feels so warm, in those few point of contact he allows. In those eyes that meet Cas's. In the moment's of fun Dean had introduced him to. In those calm moments, more than just the spaces between battles.
He's seen Dean, knife or gun in hand, covered in the blood of monsters or demons, his own blood and ash. He's seen Dean asleep, a hand under his pillow where he keeps his gun, curled up on himself. He's seen Dean laughing. Seem his singing along to Led Zeppelin as loud as he can before Sam starts threading to jump out a moving vehicle. He's seen him stare at burgers like they're the solution for world peace.
He's seen how he looks at Sam, or Bobby. That look of love so clear in his eyes, even before Cas left Heaven, before he knew what love felt like.
And now he sees that look given to him.
"You don't mind?" Dean echoes.
Cas lets his hand drift higher, reaching for Dean's, fingers tangling together. He lets him thumb run over knuckles, where Dean bears scars from a lifetime of punching and violence.
Dean pauses, just watching with rapt attention, then stands, making the small move over to sit beside Cas, their legs and shoulders pushed together. He lets their hands settle again in his lap, Cas still carefully rubbing circles into each of the scars there. He lets his head drop onto Cas's shoulder and feels Cas relax at the gesture, becoming warm and pliant.
Remembering the dream he saw, Cas turns his head, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean's hair. Dean chuckles, lifting his head and turning to Cas.
Cas feels Dean's breath on his lips, only inches away. Dean locks his lips and Cas finds himself mirroring the gesture, though he isn't sure why.
Neither of them quite know who closes the gap. But, all of a sudden, there's a gentle press of lips. There's a moment of quiet examination as they pull back, looking the other over and only seeing their own nervous joy looking back at them.
They press their lips together, harder now. Their hands stay joined, but Cas twists to pull at Dean's waist, pulling him closer, allowing himself to touch where he couldn't before. Cas's tongue slips past Dean's lips as Dean's hand threads itself through Cas's hair, letting himself feel each strand passing through his fingers. Dean nibbles on Cas's lip and Cas makes a whining sound he wasn't aware he could make, getting only a muffled chuckle in response.
They carry on like that for a while, until Dean pulls back, letting his head rest on Cas's shoulder again. Cas lets out a contented sigh, pressing his lips to Dean's head, then letting his cheek rest there.
There's a knock on the bathroom door and it opens slightly, Sam sticking his head out. He calls out, looking like he's grinning hard enough to pull something. "Is it safe to come out now?"
Dean briefly lets go of Cas's hand to throw a pillow at his head.