Work Text:
Dean stood in the card aisle of the department store, contemplating his masculinity and his sanity. The selection was thoroughly picked over and only a few lonely cards remained. Dean, however, wasn’t the only man standing in the aisle. Several others stood there, staring at the left behind cards, probably contemplating which to buy for their wives or girlfriends.
Dean wasn’t buying for either.
It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and he - Dean Winchester - was buying a card for his…uhh… his -- Heck, what was Cas? Not his boyfriend. One didn’t exactly date an Angel of the Lord, who was kind of God once, but now wasn’t even returning his calls. Dean wasn’t even sure how he would get the card to Cas if he was refusing to talk to him.
Dean and Sam had been so busy hunting a pack of werewolves that the holiday had just snuck up on him. Dean had gone on a supply run about an hour north of their new base, while Sam stayed behind to geek out over their vast library. Dean hadn’t intended to buy Castiel anything for the holiday, but after walking past the card aisle three times he had given in.
Now he was standing there, staring down the card selection, with the same intensity he normally reserved for facing a Wendigo or Rugaru. Dean stood before the wall of cardstock, everything red and pink, covered in hearts and smiling cupids. No cupids. Absolutely not, he thought to himself. Being hugged by a fat, naked cherub had put him off of that aspect of the holiday entirely. No, he needed to find just the right card, but apparently Hallmark didn’t make a “Hey, I’m really grateful you pulled my ass outta Hell, and stuck by me even when I’m being a dick” card.
Shit, why was this so hard? Maybe he should call Sammy.
Dean didn’t even know what to think about his feelings for Cas. Having romantic inclinations for another man was sort of new to him. Sure, he had loved other men before; like Sammy, his dad, and Bobby. But those were NOT romantic feelings of love – no matter what those nut jobs on the internet wrote into their stories. What he felt for Cas was different, and it had taken Dean quite a long time to realize that.
In fact, Dean felt many things for Cas that he once thought were only friendship. Or side effects of their lifestyle as hunters – forming attachments in life or death situations, like brothers-in-arms kind of love. No, this was different. The year in Purgatory had opened his eyes to the fact that he wasn’t ready to lose Cas again. He was finally going to man up, and confess his big gay love for a nerdy angel in a trench coat.
Yup, he needed a drink.
---
Dean swung the shopping bags into the back of the Impala and climbed into the driver’s seat. He sat in the quiet parking lot for a moment, without starting the engine.
“Cas, buddy, I know you’re busy but I’d just like to know you’re okay,” he whispered in the darkened car.
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean nearly jumped out of the car. He certainly hadn’t been expecting an answer.
“Cas, what the hell?! You disappear for weeks, and just decide to pop in now?” Dean demanded, his anger flaring.
“I apologize for not answering sooner. There were matters in Heaven that I had to attend to. Samandriel needed to be brought home to rest.”
Dean took in a few deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself. Cas had lost his brother, so he was entitled to some mourning time. Dean told himself that he, of all people, should understand.
“It’s okay man. Just, call once in awhile, yeah? I didn’t know if you were safe or not.”
Cas stared at Dean, the with the same intensity he always did. Only this time when Dean felt his pulse quicken, he didn’t try to squash down the feelings. He just let it wash over him. Before he could change his mind, he reached across the seat, and took a hold of Cas’ hand. He pulled the hand into his lap, effectively bringing the angel closer to his side. Dean’s thumb stroked Cas’ wrist, just above the cuff of his shirt. Dean subconsciously licked his lips, as his eyes flicked down to Cas’ mouth.
“Dean,” a low, gravelly voice implored.
“Yeah Cas?” his response was barely audible.
“Was there a reason you called me here?”
“Actually, I, ah…wanted to give you something,” he stammered.
Dean (regrettably) let go of Cas’ hand, to reach inside his jacket and pull out the card he had purchased. After changing his mind several times, he had finally chosen a simple white card, with a red heart on front, asking ‘Be Mine?’ Written inside was, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. Dean had only signed his first name. He contemplated writing something sappy or cheesy – some declaration of love. Maybe drawing a few X’s and O’s. But since he wasn’t even sure Cas would reciprocate, he decided to keep up his guard a little bit.
As he watched Cas examining the piece of thin cardboard in his hands, Dean realized it was already too late for him. Dean Winchester, you are an idjit, he thought to himself. He knew that the wall he had built around his heart had been dismantled by Cas some time ago. The angel owned all of him, and he had done for some time. It didn’t matter if Cas felt the same way, Dean’s feelings would never change.
They sat in silence in the Impala, as Cas stared at the card, and Dean stared at Cas. His mind was racing with all the possibilities of what could happen. He wondered how he would function if Cas rejected him, if their friendship could withstand the hurt, and simultaneously imagining pressing Cas back into the seat and stealing at least one kiss before he was abandoned.
“Dean, I’m not sure I understand this.”
“It’s – uh – it’s a Valentine, Cas. People give them to each other every year on February fourteenth,” he quipped, trying to go for a joke in case this was a brush-off.
Cas turned to regard Dean, giving him the faintest hint of a smile.
“I am familiar with the custom, Dean. It’s the card itself I do not understand.”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you asking if I am yours? I thought that was already obvious. Who else would I belong to?”
It took a moment for Dean’s brain to process what Cas was saying. Then his face broke into a huge grin.
“Are you saying,” he asked leaning towards Cas, “that you will be my Valentine?” Dean’s grin broadened as his gaze flickered from Cas’ lips, up to his eyes.
Cas regarded him with one of his soul-piercing stares and replied, “I am saying that I am yours, Dean, and I wouldn’t want to be anybody else’s.”
That was the best opening that Dean could hope for, so he leaned in, pressing his lips to his angel’s, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clutching at his coat lapel. The kiss started out chaste, but soon Cas was licking at Dean’s lips, requesting entrance, and Dean could not refuse. He tilted his head to bring their lips more firmly together, and ran one hand through that messy bed head that had been driving him nuts for far too long.
Castiel’s lips were dry and chapped, and there was stubble along Cas’ jaw that scratched Dean’s face and fingers. Cas was inexperienced (no matter what he had learned from the pizza man) and didn’t quite know what to do with his tongue. Still, it was the best kiss that Dean had ever had. He broke apart, gasping for air, with two more light presses to Cas’ lips. His cheeks hurt from all the smiling he was doing.
“If you don’t have any plans tonight, would you like to come see our new base? Maybe we can relax for one night. Watch a movie or something?”
Cas smiled, as he leaned back into the seat, taking hold of Dean’s hand again.
“I’m your Valentine, Dean. Nothing would make me happier.”
“Good, Cas. I’ll show you my room. It’s awesome,” Dean proclaimed with another grin.
Dean started the Impala, and turned onto the highway, thinking to himself that this just might be his new favorite holiday.