Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean Winchester did not do feelings. He did not do ‘chick-flick’ moments, nor did he believe in ‘heart to hearts.’ Dean preferred that his emotions stayed bottled up in his head where no one could see them. He didn’t need anyone to coddle him, hug him, or be his therapist. Absolutely not.

After Lisa, Dean didn’t do relationships either. He couldn’t afford to become attached to another person when homicidal angels were constantly haunting him. He also didn't think girls would be wooed by the pickup line, “Hello, I'm Dean Winchester. I helped jump-start the apocalypse, was almost the vessel for an asshole archangel, and might have once formed an alliance with the King of Hell. Want to go out on a date?”

Dean avoided commitment like he avoided Sam’s rabbit food.

Then, one night, Sam left the bunker to pick up a library book he had on hold. He told Dean and Cas to continue researching, but Dean really didn’t feel like sticking his nose in the bunker’s finest dusty old textbooks. Instead, he took it upon himself to educate Cas in Star Wars.

Three movies, four beers, and two popcorn boxes later, Cas and Dean were sprawled out across the couch. Dean couldn’t remember what they talked about, only that it was the most fun he’d had in a long time. In the morning, to Dean's shock, Cas hadn't left. Instead, Cas was quietly sleeping, or probably just quietly thinking with his eyes closed (since angels didn't sleep), next to him. All Dean could think was, ‘I want to stay here forever.’

Thank god Sam didn’t seem to notice all of these…emotions radiating off of him.

Sam would try to give him a speech about acceptance and unconditional love. Frankly Dean was not in the mood. He didn’t date guys. Never once in his life had he looked at a guy and thought, ‘Damn, I want to hit that.’

Sleeping with a guy.

Commitment.

Cas just had to fuck everything up.

…And Dean was okay with that.

_____________
Even though Dean avoided meaningful relationships, he’d always had the ability to charm his way in any girl’s heart...or pants. Whichever worked. Maybe his tactics weren’t conventional, but smiling and killing scary monsters had worked pretty well so far.

Yep, Dean thought, just keep telling yourself that. This had worked dozens of times before. Just keep smiling and trying to flirt. He’ll notice…eventually.

Except he wasn’t noticing! Dean had tried everything, but Cas hadn’t so much as given him a second glance. Why didn’t he understand Dean was trying to be his…boyfriend? No. Lover? Ew. Friends that exclusively make-out and maybe sleep together? Yep, that’s it.

Dean looked across the room to where Cas was reading some obscure book Sam had given him. His eyes crinkled as he turned the page, and he snuggled deeper into the chair. He was adorable (if Dean Winchester used words like adorable, which he definitely didn’t).

In that moment Dean realized he was in completely uncharted waters. Cas wasn’t some random girl at bar looking for a quick fix. Cas was his best friend. If Dean actually wanted any type of meaningful relationship, he needed a new plan. A new foolproof plan to make Cas notice him.

Phase #1- Become Interested in Cas’s Hobbies

This step wasn’t as easy as Dean thought it would be. While they could call the bunker their home, they still often travelled from motel to motel. Cas might still be an angel, but he had started spending more and more time with Sam and Dean. That meant Cas’s hobbies were restricted to things he could pack in a duffel bag. Due to this, Cas had developed a love of readings and those stupid crossword puzzles. Both things Dean despised.

But he reminded himself of the end goal, and reluctantly picked up Cas’s copy of Harry Potter. He double-checked his surroundings to make sure Sam wasn’t anywhere near him. Then, he opened to the first page.
_____________________________________________________

Three hours later (hours that weren’t as painful as Dean thought), he felt comfortable enough to put Phase 1 into action. He waited until Sam left for a food run. He would never hear the end of it if Sam found out what he was doing.

Cas was leaning against the bedframe completely engrossed in his book. Dean paused in the bathroom to run a comb through his hair and even took the time to put on deodorant. He wanted to look presentable.

Then, he casually sat down next to Cas.

“So, what do you think of the book?” Dean asked.

Cas glanced up. “I much prefer the wizards in these novels to what exist in the real world.”

“Yea, they’re pretty…awesome. What house do you think you would be in? I bet you’d be Gryffindor.”

Please find that flattering, Dean thought.

Cas raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you read Harry Potter, Dean.”

But you’re totally impressed right?

“I got bored after a hunt, and found it in Sam’s bag.”

Lies, lies, lies, lies.

“I feel like I would be a Hufflepuff.”

“Nah, Cas. You’re too brave for a Hufflepuff.”

At that moment Dean spotted a piece of Cas’s hair hanging across his forehead. Before he could tell himself no, his hand was reaching out to push the piece of hair away. Dean froze and slowly drew his hand away.

Cas didn’t seem to notice Dean’s discomfort. He smiled at Dean with those bright blue eyes that made Dean want to wrap Cas in his arms and never let go.

“You can sit with me if you want. I found a copy of the second book at the gas station,” Cas said.

Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dean might have spent more time staring at Cas than reading the book, but overall he considered it a success.

Chapter Text

It took about two weeks for Dean to realize Phase I didn't working. For one, Dean didn't know how many more crosswords his brain could do before he exploded in rage. What asshole even gathered all of that obscure information? Second, Sam caught him reading Harry Potter, and then pricked Dean with a silver blade to make sure a monster hadn't stolen his body. Just to top it all off, no improvement with Cas.

And God, what if Cas rejected him? He spent thousands of years playing his little harp in heaven, and Dean knew the bible explicitly forbid a relationship with another man. But he couldn’t help it. The little what if inside his head wouldn't shut up.

Dean sighed. Sam had convinced him to take a case in a ghost town in Wyoming, so he was currently stuck in an extra crappy motel without a working television. There wasn't even bar inside the city limits! This was the last time Dean let Sam pick a case.

Speaking of the case, Dean thought, where's Sam? He said he just wanted to stock up at the mini mart before they interviewed the witnesses, but that was nearly 20 minutes ago. How long did it take to buy pie and beer?

Dean wanted to solve this case as fast as possible and get back to brooding about Cas. If he was at the bunker he could be imagining Cas's hair, and how his mouth would feel on hi- fuck! Dean needed to focus. Focus on the case, focus on the case, Dean repeated.

Dean knew the case was important, but he couldn't help it if his mind was busy with…other thoughts.

The only problem was Dean had no clue what the fuck to do now. What was Phase II? If Cas was a girl, he'd be all over it. Smile, flirt, date, maybe even buy those shitty flowers. But, how does one go about seducing a guy?

Then, he saw Sam's computer sitting on the bed. A light went off. If there was ever a place to look up random and inappropriate information, it was the Internet.

A few moments later, Dean was sitting on the bathroom counter with the door locked. It was cramped and uncomfortable since the counter was barely large enough to hold him, and he was pretty sure something was living in the shower, but it beat Sam disrupting him. His hands hovered over the keys before he typed how to make your best friend fall in love with you.

Dean cringed at the results and looked around the room again before clicking the first link he saw (refusing to read the title of the stupid frilly website). His self-respect was fucked if anyone ever saw him. Well, if he was honest, his self-respect died the minute he stole Sam’s computer.

He quickly realized he couldn't complete most of these. He couldn't flip his hair, wear earrings, and there was no way in hell he was going to longingly stare into anyone's eyes. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all.

Then one suggestion caught Dean's eye; Write a Love Note. He tried not to internally cry because it was so fucking cheesy and girly. But he was so fucking desperate. He wanted to click away because there's no way in hell he'll ever live this down. But he was out of ideas, and he really really fucking wanted Cas to be his...whatever.

Suddenly, he heard the door slam.

"Dean! Where are you? And where's my computer?" Sam demanded.

"I'll be out in a second!" Dean replied.

Where’s the fucking ‘clear history’ button?

"Oh my god, are you watching porn? It's ten in the morning!"

“I’m not watching porn, damn it!”

Dean located the clear history button just as Sam started pounding on the door. He finally opened the door and shoved the laptop into his brother’s arms. Sam immediately began furiously clicking and searching for any incriminating information. When he didn’t find any, he simply scowled at Dean.

“What did you do? Does my computer have another virus now?”

“No! Just tell me about the case. When can we leave?”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Well, the three victims were all murdered in broad daylight on the sidewalk. So, I was thinking we should talk to the store owners and see if they saw anything.”

Dean nodded and grabbed his keys off the bed. “No time like the present, Sammy.”

He would be bad to brooding in no time.

“Can I shower first?” Sam asked.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get near that monster.”

Dean wanted the world to die. His entire body hurt, and he smelled so bad he was forced to step foot in that horrific shower. There were cuts up and down his back, and one particularly nasty one that refused to stop bleeding. Dean would never underestimate angry teenage girls again, especially when trapped in a storm drain without a flashlight.

Sam wanted to stay overnight in another motel, but Dean insisted on driving straight from Wyoming to the bunker. It took almost ten hours, but it was worth it. After a refreshing night’s sleep, five whole hours, he was ready to start Phase II.

Do I sign my name on the notes? No, he can’t actually know they’re from me. Where do I put them? He doesn’t have a room, but I could put them inside his bag. Yep, that’s good, Dean thought.

He took some paper from the printer and checked to make sure Sam was still asleep before he sat down at the kitchen table. Only then did he realize he had no clue what to write. He sure as hell wasn’t going to write poetry, and he wasn’t about to write a detailed description of his feelings either.

Keep it short and sweet. No feelings, no sappy confessions. Stick to the facts, He told himself.

Dean scribbled down the first phrase that popped into his head about Cas:

I like your eyes

There was a lot more Dean could say about Cas’s eyes; every time he looked in them, he thought he might get lost. But he thought his note summed it up pretty well. Dean neatly folded the piece of paper two times, and drew a smiley face on the front, just for kicks.

He found Cas’s bag on the couch, and slipped the note inside. He wondered what Cas would think when he found it. Would he assume Dean wrote it? Or Sam? Ewwww. What was Dean going to do afterwards? He refused to worry about that; there was no place for planning ahead.

Now, he just had to lure Cas to the bunker, which was a lot harder than it sounded. He couldn’t ask for information about a case since they had just returned, and he sadly couldn’t call him to discuss a looming apocalypse. Why did the world have to pick now to be peaceful?

I could try to make him watch Indiana Jones. There are like three movies, so he’d be stuck here for at least a few hours. I’ll tell him the DVD is in his bag, and then he’ll see the note.

It wasn’t Dean’s smartest plan, but he really didn’t want to wait until some supernatural creature decided to wreck havoc. So, he sent a quick message to Cas and waited.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’s deep voice resonated behind him.

“Hi, Cas.”

“Do you need assistance?”

“No-no, I just thought we could hang out. Sam’s asleep, and I was bored. I mean, if you aren’t busy…”

Cas paused. “No one is currently in need of my assistance. What did you have in mind?”

“Beer and a movie. I think I might have stuck of copy of Indiana Jones in your bag over there if you want to grab it.”

The minute Cas’s hand reached into his bag, Dean’s heart almost stopped. What if he hates it? What if he figures out I wrote it? What if it creeps him out? I regret everything!

Cas slowly unfolded the note, but didn’t say a word. It took everything in Dean not to run away.

“Did you write this, Dean?”

“What? No.”

“It looks an awful lot like your handwriting.”

Dean paused. Well, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I didn’t write it Cas, I swear. What does it say?”

“Someone wishes to compliment my eyes.”

“I guess you have a secret admirer. Maybe you caught a girl’s eye during a case.”

Dean waited. Cas’s face softened, and he smiled. His eyes crinkled, and Dean started thinking about how often he wanted to see that smile. He wanted to see that smile when he woke up and when he went to sleep. Mostly, Dean wanted to know he could put that smile on Cas’s face. He wanted to jump up and kiss him right there.

Fuck yea, this is going to work.

Chapter Text

Dean would never admit it out loud but writing letters to Cas was kind of…fun. Sure, he had to be careful not to leave them too often or Cas would think someone was stalking him, and he was constantly worried Sam was going to find out. But it was worth it to see Cas smile every time he found a note taped to the mirror or tucked between the pages of his book.

So far he’d written seven notes:

I like your eyes

Your smile is awesome

I like it when you’re around

Your hair is sexy

I really want to kiss you

I’m thinking about you

I miss you

He wrote the last one when Cas went M.I.A for a week and only managed to send Dean one text message. One fucking message! One! Did heaven not have wi-fi or something?

Dean didn’t realize how much that pissed him off until Sam casually mentioned Cas’s name, and he threw a screwdriver at his stupid face. Then, he realized he needed to stop because he was acting like a needy teenager. Cas was an adult, and an angel; he was perfectly capable of making his own decisions.

Except what if something happened to him, and Dean didn’t know!

Thankfully, his note seemed to do the trick, and Cas only left for at most 13 hours. Yes, he counted.

As far as Dean was concerned, his plan was moving along perfectly. Sure, he lied to Cas about writing the letters, but he figured sooner or later everything would fall into place. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

A soft ding broke Dean out of his thoughts. He took the coffee pot and poured a slightly unreasonable amount into his mug. It was 3:07 AM, so Dean figured he needed to extra energy. Sam would probably complain about cold coffee in the morning, but Dean frankly didn’t care.

His sleep schedule had always been wonky (chasing demonic monsters did that to a person), but only recently had he begun to enjoy it. He used the extra time to write to Cas, plan hiding letters to Cas, and...well, there was a lot of Cas involved. What could he say? Cas was sort of on his mind lately.

Dean placed his mug on the table, and stared at the blank page in front of him. I could talk about his badass angel mojo, but then he’d probably know it was me. Maybe I’ll just write about smiling again.

Dean was too preoccupied to notice his elbow was slowly pushing the mug away until it shattered on the floor. Dean jumped up. Fuck, fuck, that’s definitely going to wake Sam up. He quickly grabbed a broom and tried to sweep the evidence into the trash, but it was too late.

”Dean,” Sam called, ”Is that you?”

The Samsquatch waltzed into the kitchen, clearly wide awake. Dean hoped he would simply asked what broke, maybe scold him for making coffee so early, and then go back to bed. He didn’t know what he was going to say if Sam asked why he was writing something down.

“Sorry I woke you. Just go back to bed.”

Please, go away, Dean prayed.

“That’s okay, I was actually researching. There’s a case in Kentucky that I think might be interesting. ”

For fucks sake, why?

”Alright, I’ll take a look in the morning.”

When Sam didn’t move, Dean cleared his throat and glared at him. For all his intelligence, Sam seemed to be terrible at picking up on social cues. Did they not teach ‘leave your older brother alone while he’s brooding’ at Stanford?

Finally, Sam turned to leave. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

Dean grunted and reached for the paper towels to wipe the coffee off the floor. Next time he vowed to be more careful.

Sam nearly disappeared around the corner, but suddenly stopped. Dean tried not to groan. What could you possibly want?

“So,” Sam said, “Cas left one of his books out, and there were these...love notes inside.”

No, no, no,fuck, fuck, fuck, motherfucking hell.

“And?” Dean demanded.

“And, did you write them, Dean?”

”No! Why would you assume that?”

”It looked like your handwriting.”

Why the fuck does everyone know what my handwriting look like?

“I. Did. Not. Write. Them. Is it so hard to believe Cas knows people besides us?”

“I guess not. But you know, if you were interested in Cas, that’s ok-”

”God damnit, Sam! I didn’t write it.”

“Okay, okay. Good night.”

Finally, Sam ducked out of the kitchen. Dean sighed. He needed to form the next phase of his plan. _____________________________________________________________________________

Somewhere around 5:02 AM Dean realized what he needed to do. Get rid of Sam. Not like kill him or anything, but it was impossible to flirt or make a move on Cas with his brother always lurking next to him. He needed one on one time to show Cas he wanted to be more than friends.

Luckily, ditching Sam was pretty easy. The “case” in Kentucky turned out to just be extremely clever teenagers and a prank gone wrong. Sam wanted to leave that night, but Dean recognized his opportunity. He told Sam he wasn't in the mood to drive back, and left him in the motel room.

Once in the safety of the Impala. Dean sent a quick prayer to Cas. He saw a bowling alley on the edge of town, which was the perfect place to start Phase III.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said from the passenger seat.

Dean smiled. “Have you ever been bowling, Cas?”

”No.”

“Well, we're going to fix that.”

Dean backed the Impala out of the motel parking lot. An entire night alone with Cas. He tried not to grin like an idiot, but still ended up tapping his fingers on the wheel.

“Where's Sam?” Cas asked

“He’s staying home tonight. It's just you and me.”

Dean wanted to believe he saw Cas smile, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Either way, he drove well over the speed limit the entire time. This was going to be perfect.

The bowling alley was a large building with bright yellow and blue lights across the top. The outside looked a little run down and the W in Bowling Alley was burned out, but Dean was too excited to care.

Cas followed him inside, where Dean rented two pairs of shoes that reeked of disinfectant. Cas wrinkled his nose, but Dean managed to convince him to wear them. He even got Cas to take off his trenchcoat, which was a mistake because that shirt and tie looked way hotter on Cas than should be allowed.

When Dean handed Cas a bright blue bowling ball, he stared at it for a moment, then looked back up at Dean.

”What am I supposed to do with this?” Cas asked

”Do you see those pins over there? You roll the ball down this lane and try to knock over as many as you can.”

Cas paused. “Why?”

“It’s a game. Whoever gets the most points wins. Watch me.”

Dean plugged their names into the machine, then rolled the ball down the lane. He couldn’t remember the last time he went bowling, and it showed. The ball barely hit two pins.

“You are not very good at this, Dean.”

“I’d like to see you try, Mr. Angel of the Lord.”

Cas was about to roll the ball when Dean realized he was holding it with two hands.

“No, Cas you can’t do that. Hold it like this.”

Dean took one of Cas’s hands and guided it over the three holes. Cas’s hands were so soft and warm, yet also tough. He imagined those hands running up his chest and weaving through his hair. It took all of Dean’s willpower to make himself let go.

Unfortunately, Cas’s first try resulted in the bowling ball rolling into an alley. Dean briefly thought he might have made a mistake because Cas sure as hell didn’t look like he was having fun. But then he smiled, and Dean felt pretty damn good.

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to beat me,” Dean said.

“We will see,” Cas smirked.

Thirty minutes later, Dean was sort of regretting challenging Cas. For an angel, the guy was surprisingly competitive. At one point, Dean suspected he was using his angel mojo to improve his game. But when he brought it up, Cas just innocently smiled.

“Swing your arm higher “ Cas said.

He stepped next to Dean and gently raised Dean’s arm until it was even with his shoulder.

“Got it, Cas,” Dean squeaked.

He threw the ball as fast as he could, but didn’t pay attention to how many pins were knocked down.

“I’m going to go get us some beers,” Dean said.

He rushed to the good counter as fast as possible without looking suspicious. He ordered three beers from the woman with blue hair, but regretted it when she kept smiling at him funny.

“Are you on a date?” She finally said.

Dean opened his mouth but nothing came out. This is not a date We’re just hanging out; two friends…

“Cause you two are really cute together. The way you keep looking at him is adorable,” She continued

“We’re not-I’m not-umm-you see-” Dean stuttered.

The woman laughed. “Don’t get so flustered. It’s a compliment.”

Dean muttered something that sounded like thank you, took the beers, and went back over to Cas. Except Cas was busy. A woman from the lane next to them was busy flirting with him. She kept twirling her hair and laughing.

It made Dean’s blood boil. Cas wasn’t even trying to push her away. He was just politely smiling and nodding his head every once in awhile. Dean refused to let it bug him; Cas probably didn’t even know what she was doing. He was never good with people skills.

Then Cas genuinely smiled and touched her shoulder. In that moment all the hope Dean had built up collapsed on itself and withered away. Cas would never want to date him. Dean was a broken fucked up mess and Cas was an angel with some heavenly duty way more important than Dean.

Cas could essentially have any person he wanted. He could find the purest, most perfect human on the planet, and that definitely wasn’t Dean. He was just wasting his time pining for something he could never have.

Dean put the beers bottles on the closest table and reached for his jacket. Cas must have seen him because he stopped talking to the woman and stalked towards Dean.

”Where are you going?” He demanded.

“Back to the motel.”

Cas frowned. “We haven’t finished out game, Dean.”

“You can play without me. I’m sure your friend over there would love to take my spot.”

“I don’t want to play with her.”

“I’ll just see you tomorrow or whatever.”

“Dean, wait.”

Cas reached for his hand, but Dean shrugged it off. He tucked his hands in his pockets and headed for the exit. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid.

The cold air bit at him in the parking lot, and he wondered how even the weather had turned to shit so quickly. He wrenched the Impala door open and silently sat in the seat. The sign across the building seemed to be mocking him with its’ bright happy lights, reminding him how perfect everything was. Dean leaned his head against the steering wheel.

Stupid Dean.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?” Sam asked.

“For the fiftieth time, I’m fine. Could you please just shut the fuck up?” Dean snapped.

Sam held up his hands in surrender. Dean thought he should probably stop taking his anger out on Sam. It wasn’t Sam’s fault Dean’s imagination concocted some ridiculous white picket fence bullshit. He’d learned his lesson and now it was time to move on. No more pining over Cas, writing stupid notes, or any general fucking girlyness.

If only he could get rid of all these damn emotions.

”There’s a case about an hour away, but I’m thinking we might need Cas’s help. It’s-” Sam started.

Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel. ”We don’t need Cas.”

“Dean, we’re looking at some potentially nasty stuff. Just to be safe, it’ll be best to use whatever firepower we have.”

“I'm sure Cas has better things to do than hang around us.”

“He's basically been living with us for the last month or s-”

“No, Sammy. We managed just fine before Cas came around, we’ll be just fine on our own.”

Sam was quiet, and Dean relaxed. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole, but he hadn’t slept more than an hour last night. His brain spent half the time scolding him for being so stupid, and other half pleading with him to just ignore the whole incident and go back to being a lovesick teenager. Luckily, he managed to ignore them both by drinking eight bottles of beer.

“Dean...are we still talking about the case?”

Dean gripped the wheel even tighter and focused on the road. His brother was too damn nosy for his own good.

“Of course. What the hell else would I be talking about?”

“It's just that you were so happy the last few weeks. And now-”

“You’re not my therapist, so could you please just shut up.”

Sam opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but quickly closed it. Dean relaxed back into the seat, trying to stretch out his fingers without groaning. After returning to the bunker he may or may not have *attempted* to punch a wall. Emphasizes on attempted; his right knuckles were purple and swollen.

Stop acting like a pussy, Dean Winchester. It’s over. Just move the fuck on. It’s not like it would ever work. What would Sam say? What about other hunters? That would be a fun conversation. Be glad this whole thing ended before you embarrassed yourself even more.

“Dean! Turn here! Turn right!”

Dean snapped out of his trance just in time to swerve into the exit lane. Sam cursed under his breath, and Dean was slammed against the door. Once they were safely off the highway, Dean swore to banish any thoughts of Cas. He couldn’t let himself become distracted.

____________________________________________________________________

To put it mildly, Sam had no fucking sense of direction. What should have been an hour ride turned into three hours when Sam decided he wanted to take the “scenic route.” Two road closures and three detours later, they finally drifted into a sleepy town Dean didn’t bother to learn the name of.

The motel actually looked pretty decent given the walls weren’t falling down nor were there any suspicious stains on the wall. The sheets were clean and even the bathroom looked like someone cleaned it more than once a month. Dean was thankful that after all that driving he didn’t have to worrying about whether someone was murdered in this room.

“I’m going to take the first shower,” Sam said, “You can go after me.”

Dean nodded and threw his duffel bag on the bed. It was barely nine o'clock, and he was ready to collapse from exhaustion. He knew he should at least look at what case Sammy had found, but he figured he could do it in the morning. Instead, he double checked the duffel to make sure they had all the weapons and other shit they could possibly need. Then he triple checked...and checked again.

Finally, Sam emerged from the bathroom.

“Be ready to go by eight tomorrow,” Sam said, “We’re stopping by the coroner's office first thing in the morning.”

Dean shut the bathroom door. “Got it.”

He stripped off his shirt and threw on the sink. Then he turned on the shower and found a clean towel. He was reaching for his belt buckle when he froze.

There, right on the center of the mirror, was a piece of paper, folded in half, with his name written on it. Dean blinked a few times, thinking he was hallucinating, but it was still there. He briefly considered calling for Sam, but then realized he didn’t want to look like a complete pussy. Sam probably wrote some motivational speech and hoped Dean would read it when he wasn’t looking.

He ripped the note off the mirror and opened it.

Dean,

You make me feel like I have a home.

Dean blinked.

What.

The.

Fuck.

The initial shock quickly wore off and was replaced by anger. Sam was the only one who knew about the notes, and guess who had just been in the bathroom?

Just when Dean thought his life was in complete shambles, his brother was fucking mocking him. Dean imagined Sam laughing as he found those stupid notes, and how his brother probably enjoyed watching Dean make a complete fool of himself.

Dean yanked the door open. “You’re a piece of shit Sam!”

Sam looked like a deer caught in headlights. Yea, I know, you little son of a bitch, Dean thought.

“Did you write this?” Dean demanded, holding up the note.

“No, what does it say?”

“Like you don’t already know.”

“I really don’t, Dean, so would you please stop yelling.”

Dean tried really hard not to, but he was pretty sure he ended up growling at his brother. He didn’t know what else to say, so he gave Sam the bird and went back into the bathroom (purposely slamming the door as hard as possible).

He stayed in the shower until he was positive Sam was asleep. Every shred of dignity he once had burned to ashes. He didn’t actually know if he would ever be able to look at Sam or Cas again.

Thankfully, unlike Dean, Sam didn’t lie in bed for hours staring at the ceiling. When Dean snuck out of the bathroom, the room was completely dark, and Sam was softly snoring. He quietly crawled onto the bed and prayed for sleep.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Yep, this is the third one this week. We found him along one of the hiking trails just outside of town. He’s been completely drained off all his blood, and both of his wrists were shattered. It would appear someone held him down and..well, did this,” The coroner said.

The coroner turned around and reached for some papers. Dean looked around. This place was way to chipper for a morgue. The walls were some tan color, and the room was littered with cookies, some candles, a couple magazines, and even a poster. Does a child run this place or something?

“Definitely a vampire,” Sam whispered.

“I saw a few abandoned warehouses on the edge of town. I bet that’s where their nest is,” Dean replied.

Sam nodded. “Well, thank you for your time.”

“I’m just glad the FBI is looking into this. The whole town is really rattled,” the coroner said.

“I can promise you, my partner and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

Dean politely said goodbye to the coroner, then he and Sam walked back to the Impala. For split second, Dean considered calling Cas. Vampires were crafty little son of a bitches, and Dean had no desire to become an appetizer. But after last night, there was no way he could look Cas in the eye.

“Hey, I’m going to stop by the bathroom real fast,” Sam said, “I’ll meet you at the car.”

Dean semi-acknowledged Sam, but didn’t say anything. That was how he decided to handle his brother; do not speak to unless absolutely necessary.

He continued walking, ignoring the women who tried to wave to him at the reception desk. Another thing that annoyed him. Why was everyone so damn friendly in this town? That morning, the motel manager tried to talk to him. Like engage in a conversation! What the hell?

Finally, Dean reached the safety of the Impala. Get it together, Dean told himself, You’re acting like a child. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the steering wheel. Only, his head was touching a piece of paper. Dean opened his eyes. Fuck, no, no, no, no.

But there is was, clear as day; a fucking note taped to the steering wheel. Dean debated not opening it, but that would just be admitting that it bugged him. So he opened it like a man.

Dean,

You are adorable when you sleep.

He wanted to punch Sam. Sure, they’d enjoyed pranking each other over the years, but this crossed a line. He didn’t think Sam was cruel enough to fuck with Dean’s emotion, but he learned new things everyday.

Dean torn the note into as tiny of pieces as he could manage and threw them out the window. Sadly, he also managed to see Sam waltzing towards the car. If I killed him now, would anyone see me? Probably…

Sam opened the door and got in the car. “So where are these warehouses?”

“Fuck you,” Dean whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Dean lowered his voice, “You asshole.”

He was thankfully Sam didn’t say anything because he couldn’t guarantee his brother wouldn’t end up with a black eye. During the five minute drive across town to the warehouses, the only sound came from the steady hum of the Imapala’s engine. When the dark blue warehouse finally came into view, Dean grunted to let Sam know they had arrived.

“Grab the machetes. They should be asleep, so we’ll figure out how many of them there are and go from there,” Dean said.

“Alright.”

Sam handed Dean a machete and they quietly crept towards the entrance of the warehouse. Dean had to admit it was a pretty decent nest. The building looked like it had been recently painted, and there were no cracks or weak spots in the walls. Unfortunately, there seemed to only be one window and door, which did not make Dean feel good.

He peeked inside the window and frowned. There were bunkbeds, sofas, and other furniture, but no vamps. He checked his watch; 9:15. They should be fast asleep.

“Drive the Impala to the parking lot across the street. They have to come back eventually,” Sam said.

Dean nodded and retreated back to the car. He found a parking space between a blue truck and a tan minivan that gave them a perfect view of the warehouse. Since all they could do was wait, Dean leaned back against the seat and put his feet up.

He was content to wait in silence, but apparently Sam had other ideas.

“What has been wrong with you lately?” Sam demanded.

“Nothing, just leave me alone.”

“No. You started screaming at me last night for no reason, and now you won’t even speak to me.”

Dean sat up to look his brother in the eyes. “I said leave me alone, Sam. You’ve already done enough!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means?”

“Dean-”

“I said leave me alone”

“No, Dean-”

“God, what?”

“I was trying to say there’s something stuck to your back!”

Dean reached over his shoulder, until he felt the unmistakable texture of paper. He ripped it off his back and opened it with enough force that it was a miracle it didn’t rip.

Dean,

I really want to kiss you too.

This time he didn’t shred the note; he crumpled it into a ball and threw it at the windshield.

“What was it?” Sam asked.

Dean wanted to kill him. Like actually kill him. There had been no one else in the car, and Sam had the nerve to sit there all innocent. He thought his brother was supposed to be the smart one.

Dean was about to loudly and violently express these feelings, but a group of people suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision. There were about six of them; two women and four men. Dean guessed at least half of them were teenagers, but that didn’t mean anything to vampires.

“I say we wait another ten minutes, then try to catch them off guard. There’s some dead man’s blood in the trunk we can use to knock a few of them out,” Sam said.

Dean forced himself to nod even though his head felt like it was about to explode. Maybe he’d just let the vampires eat Sam. It would be quick, easy, and he wouldn’t have to do anything. Then, he’d move somewhere Cas couldn’t find him and live out the rest of the day as a hermit. It sounded ridiculous even as he thought about it, but his judgement was not top notch.

“Let’s go,” Sam whispered.

They crept towards the warehouse, trying not to make any noise (which was not an easy task given they were walking on gravel). Dean paused when they got to the door as he realized they had absolutely no way in without making a shit ton of noise. Thankfully, Sam seemed to have that figured out. He stood in front of the door for a few minutes with a couple of metal tools, then slowly opened the door.

The minute Dean stepped inside, he knew something was wrong. The vamps were all asleep, but less than half the beds were taken. He was about to motion to Sam that they should leave when he was thrown against the wall.

He tried to get up, but received a swift kick to the gut. Dean looked up to see a vamp smirking at him. There were definitely more than six now and they were all surrounding him.

“Well, look what we have here,” a blonde female said, “Two hunters and their little swords. How cute.”

“What should we do with them?” A teen asked.

“I say we eat ‘em and throw their bodies in the river. That’ll give the locals a fright.”

There was a collective cheer and someone lifted Dean off his feet. He couldn’t reach his weapon, and he couldn’t see Sam anywhere. Dean couldn’t believe this was how he was going to die. At least now, he wouldn’t ever have to face Cas.

All the sudden the vampire holding him exploded in light. Dean dropped to the ground and frantically felt around for something, anything, to defend himself. Only, when he stood up, every vampire was strewn across the floor with their eyes burned out.

Dean opened his mouth, but was slammed against a wall before he could say anything. Rough hands scraped against his neck as he was held by his shirt collar. Two angry blue eyes were inches away from his face, staring at him with an intensity that made his insides melt.

Cas.

Chapter Text

Dean did his best to remain as calm as possible. “Hey, Cas...having fun smiting people?”

Cas did not look amused. He drew his brows together and leaned in close enough to Dean’s face that he felt Cas’s breath on his nose. Under normal circumstances he might have found it extremely hot, but Cas looked scary as fuck. He tried to wiggle away, but once Cas growled at him, he stopped.

“You are an idiot, Dean Winchester,” Cas hissed.

“Thanks, buddy.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Sam let out a loud groan. Cas immediately let go of his shirt, and went to check on him. Luckily, Sam escaped with only minor cuts and bruises, and he was up on his feet in a few seconds. Dean tried to take a breath, but doubled over when he felt a sharp pain in his ribs.

Cas must have seen him, because a few seconds later there was a gentle warmth on his back and the pain faded.

“Why didn’t you call me? You both could have been killed!” Cas demanded.

“I wanted to,” Sam snapped, “But Dean wouldn’t let me.”

If Cas had been mad before, Dean didn’t know even know what to call this emotion. Perhaps “Angel on the Verge of Smiting Everyone” or “Death is Coming” were fitting titles. Either way, Dean felt there a a slight possibility Cas was going to kill him where he stood.

“Do you have a deep desire to die, Dean Winchester?” Cas growled.

“No, I just thought we could handle it ourselves.”

“You thought you could single handedly kill fourteen vampires? I believe you’ve taken too many blows to the head.”

“Don’t you have something better to do than lecture me? Maybe playing the harp or something.” Dean growled.

Cas latched onto Dean’s collar and slammed him against the wall, again. Dean groaned. I really need to learn not to piss off angels.

“I do not understand why you are so angry with me, Dean Winchester,” he hissed, “But whatever issue you have with me does not excuse endangering your life.”

Dean sensed that his only option was to silently nod-and he did. Cas let go of him, but kept staring at Dean like he was going to disappear. Dean tried to ignore it and simply picked up his machete from the ground. He expected Cas to leave, but he stayed glued to Dean’s side. Dean tried to say something to Sam, but once Szam whipped around and glared at him, he shut his mouth.

Not a word was uttered on the way back to the Impala. The tension made Dean feel like someone was trying to smother him with a blanket covered in ants. Sam refused to say anything on the drive back, while Cas just stared at Dean from the backseat. It was highly unsettling.

Dean realized he would never survive more than ten minutes, let alone an hour, in the car. As soon as he spotted a motel, he swerved the car across two lanes (which were thankfully empty) and into the parking lot. Sam cursed at him as he was slammed against the passenger door, but Dean ignored him. After all, Sam probably deserved some form of punishment for the shit he’d put Dean through the last few days.

“We’re staying here until tomorrow morning. Go to the library or a vegan cafe, I don’t give a fuck. Just leave me alone,” Dean snapped.

Sam was out the door before the Impala even came to a complete stop. Dean figured Cas would just naturally go away, so he simply walked into the office to reserve a room. Some part of him was tempted just to leave both Sam and Cas behind and drive somewhere else, but he resisted. Instead, he thought he’d probably find something to eat, and then steal Sam’s laptop.

He was not anticipating Cas to be sitting on the motel bed when he opened the door. At first, he just blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Once the initial shock wore off, anger started to replace it. He wanted alone time to be away from Cas.

“What are you doing here?” Dean demanded.

“You’ve made it clear you are incapable of taking care of yourself. So I’m here to ‘babysit’ you, as they say.”

Dean just stared at Cas in a mix of shock and horror. He’s fucking joking right? Except Cas did not have a sense of humor, and sarcasm usually just went over his head. He was being fucking serious.

“What the hell? I don’t need any goddamn babysitter! The hunt went wrong, it happens!”

“Not like that it doesn’t. You intentionally endangered your life and Sam’s. You were reckless”

“I can be reckless if I want!”

Cas stepped forward, and Dean figured he was about five seconds from being punched in the face. He was actually surprised when Cas simply stared at him. Except the way Cas was staring at him, made Dean wish that Cas would just punch him instead.

Cas didn’t look angry or upset, and it would have been a hell of a lot better if he did. Cas tilted his head like he was studying Dean. His eyes drifted up and down until they finally locked on Dean’s eyes. They were so fucking blue, that all Dean wanted to do was run...or kiss him. Both worked.

Stop, stop, stop! Dean forced himself to look away. Cas needed to stop doing this stuff to him. He went down that road once, and did not need a repeat.

“Could you just leave me alone, Cas? I just can’t right now.”

Dean really couldn’t help how defeated he sounded, no matter how hard he tried. He needed time recoup, and not feel the need to kill Sam and Cas every minute of the day. Maybe he should just go find a sleazy bar and fuck a girl. That would end any lingering emotions.

“Are you angry with me, Dean?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You sound angry.”

“Well, I’m not goddamn it!”

Cas blinked and sat down on the motel bed, not breaking eye contact with Dean. He realized that Cas sadly wasn’t going to move. Fine, I’ll just leave then. Not like you can stop me, Dean thought. He turned on his heels and out the door. In his mind he knew walking away from an angel like he was a child was probably not the smartest idea, but that never stopped him before.

Dean sighed in relief when he began driving, and Cas didn’t magically appear in the passenger seat. He didn’t pay attention to where he was going, he just drove. The buildings of the town eventually turned into trees, and the trees into grass.

He tried not to think about Sam or Cas or anything else. After a while, he felt completely relaxed. Sure, his personal life was kind of in shambles, but he could ignore Sam for a while (every healthy relationship needed a couple ‘fuck off’ moments). And he could get used to being around Cas like old times. He could. Yea.

When Dean realized it was almost four o’clock, he turned the car around. He was getting hungry, and he didn’t want Sam to think he’d up and abandoned him. At this point he didn’t really think Sam would care, but they had to face each other some time.

The light from their motel room was on when Dean got back. He opened the door expecting to hear Sam berating him at any moment. Instead, it was silent.

Cas was sitting on the bed reading a book. His trench coat was neatly folded on the table, and his shoes were sitting by the door. The whole scene looked so domestic that Dean wanted to puke.

“Sam has not returned. I believe he is at the bar a few blocks away.”

Dean nodded, too stunned to do anything else.

“Dean, I believe we should talk.”

That snapped Dean right out of his trance. There will be no talking. Ever.

“We have nothing to talk about, Cas.”

“You cannot avoid me forever, Dean Winchester.”

“I’m not avoiding you! I just don’t feel like having a fucking therapy session all right?”

Cas narrowed his eyes like he was going to say something, but appeared to decide against it. He slowly grabbed his trenchcoat from the chair, and his shoes magically appeared on his feet. Cas didn’t look angry or upset, more like he was planning something. He smiled at Dean briefly before disappearing.

His first instinct was to find the nearest source of alcohol, but he would have to risk running into Sam. Instead, he stipped down to his boxers and curled up in the motel bed. He wasn’t tired, but at that point gently dozing sounded extremely appealing.

Dean didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have because the next moment he was back in hell. He was staring at Alastair's twisted face as he stood above Dean, trying to convince him to just give in. Dean tried to move or open his mouth, but he was frozen in place. Just as Alastair leaned close to him, Dean woke up.

He gasped for air as he sat up. The room was swimming, and Dean’s head was pounding. He reached out to grab the sheets or anything that would ground him, but his hand came in contact with flesh. For a moment he thought it was Sam, and he instantly pulled away (Sam already had enough nightmares about hell without Dean adding to them).

But the person grabbed him and pulled him close. Dean fought the grip for a second until his brain registered the scent; Cas.

Maybe it was the fact he was too disoriented to think clearly, or maybe he was just tired, but he couldn't find the strength to pull away. Cas was warm and soft just like Dean imagined he would be.

He could feel Cas rubbing circles on his back, and he truly thought nothing had ever felt better in his life. Any lingering visions of hell disappeared and were replaced with the comforting sound of Cas’s murmuring. It didn't particularly matter what he said; Dean just wanted to hear his voice.

“You're safe, Dean,” Cas whispered, “You’re safe.”

____________________________________________________________________

When Dean woke up the next morning, he figured he’d just been hallucinating. First off, he woke up exactly the way he went to sleep; head on the pillow and blanket curled around his neck. Second, they most definitely would have woken Sam up (the asshole woke up at the sound a pin dropping). Third, and most important, there was no way Cas would waste his time lurking around a dingy motel room.

Sam was already dressed and packed by the time Dean got out of the shower.

“We should get out of here. It’s only a matter of time before the police find those bodies.”

Dean nodded. Within five minutes he was dressed and throwing his duffel bag inside the Impala. Sam silently sat in the passenger seat while Dean pulled out of the parking lot.

This time thankfully Sam was not responsible for the directions, which meant they actually made it to the bunker in a little under an hour. They managed to have a civil, but extremely awkward, conversation in the car about whether they needed more ammunition. Dean counted it as progress.

“I think I need a vacation,” Sam said as they pulled into the garage.

Normally Dean would have scoffed and told him they didn’t have time for vacation, but the thought of being away from Sam was highly appealing. He made sure Sam had two cell phones, half a dozen guns, and a bucket of salt before he watched his brother drive away from the bunker. Sam promised to be back within a week and told Dean he’d call once he’d found a hotel.

Once Sam was gone, Dean decided the best option was alcohol. He knew of a bar close to the bunker and made it there in record time. Maybe they had the magical combination to make the last few weeks of his life vanish.

The bar was wedged in-between a nail salon and a pizza parlor with a neon sign on top. It was pretty cramped inside, but all that mattered was it was loud and there was alcohol. Over the course of two hour Dean downed seven and half beers.

A woman with blonde hair came over and started talking to him. Dean was too plastered to care what she was saying, but as soon as her hand crept onto his thigh he was interested. He ignored the part of his brain that said her hands were too small and that her perfume didn’t smell right.

He was about to suggest they book a motel, when the hairs on his neck stood up like someone was watching him. In his drunken state, it took a minute for him to properly assess his surroundings.

In the corner of the room, arms crossed, was Cas. Dean didn’t know how to react. Was he supposed to be angry? Creeped out? Happy? All of the above?

The woman said something else to him, but he pushed her off. There was no way he was going to do anything with Cas watching him. He shrugged the girl off of him and pushed his way outside. The only problem seemed to be that he was too drunk to figure out how to get his keys in the ignition.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said.

Dean didn’t even flinch. He swore that when he was more sober he was going to have a talk with Cas about teleporting into his car unannounced.

”You stalking me or something?” Dean laughed.

“You won’t speak to me.”

”Has is occured to you that maybe that’s because I don’t want to fucking speak to you?”

“Have I done something to upset you, Dean?”

If Dean wasn’t drunk he probably would have never said what he did. He’d have told Cas to fuck off and left it at that. But Dean was drunk. The floodgates opened.

“Yes, you fucking ruined my life! You fucking asshole!”

“What-”

”I fell in love with you, motherfucker! I fell in love with your dumb feathery ass, and you didn’t even notice! I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back! Do you know what that feels like?”

“You’re drunk.”

”No shit! And guess why I’m drunk Cas? Guess! You! I fucking hate you!”

Cas put his hand on Dean’s head, and suddenly all the alcohol induced fogginess faded. It took a moment, but Dean’s sober brain finally registered what had just come out of his mouth. His heart started to beat so loud it felt like his head was pounding, and his hands were numb.

What the fuck did I just do?

Chapter Text

“Dean, will you please just talk to me?” Cas’s voice said behind him.

Dean ignored him and continued walking. He was never speaking to Cas again. Never. Maybe he could petition heaven for a new angel; preferably one he wasn’t going to fall in love with and then drunkenly confess his feelings to.

“Dean! Will you please just stop!”

The quickest escape was back to the bar, and he wondered how much alcohol he would need to permanently erase this from his brain. Because the way Dean saw it, the only solution to drunken confessions was to drink a fuck ton more alcohol and pretend it didn’t happen.

Too bad Cas disagreed with his philosophy.

Dean was almost to the safety of the bar was Cas appeared in front of him. Damn Cas and his stupid poofing abilities, Dean thought as he promptly turned around and walked the other way. Now he knew he was just stalling because Cas was a magical angel, and Dean wasn’t fucking Houdini.

“Dean Winchester!”

Suddenly, Dean found himself pinned against the side of Impala with Cas leaning close to his face. He tried to look away, but Cas roughly grabbed his chin and forced their eyes to meet. Had Dean been in a better mood, he would have enjoyed Cas’s attention being singularly focused on him. Now, it just made him uncomfortable.

“You must be the single most infuriating human to ever grace the earth.”

Dean laughed. Surprisingly, it wasn’t cynical or mocking. Cas, who spent the last weeks unaware of Dean’s struggles, thought he was infuriating.

“Stop laughing,” Cas hissed, his voice low and dark.

Dean stopped laughing. Cas refused to loosen his grip on Dean’s shirt collar, which made running away nearly impossible. Dean figured this was where it ended; nothing dramatic or explosive, just them in a fucking parking lot.

“You are going to stay there and listen to me. Do you understand, Dean Winchester?”

Dean nodded his head. Well, I had a good run. At least, he’ll let me down easy. Who knows? Maybe my fucking soul mate or whatever is still waiting out there,Dean thought. This was the end. He tried not show any emotion even though he was pretty sure his soul was wilting.

Cas let go of his shirt and ruffled his hair. He turned his back to Dean for a moment, then turned back around. He looked nervous and kept fidgeting his hands. Dean couldn’t decide if it would be less heartbreaking for him to push Cas along or just let everything naturally progress.

A loud shriek drew his attention away from Cas. A woman and a man stumbled out of the bar, clinging to each other. They were clearly drunk. But happy drunk. Dean wanted to kill them both.

Cas scrapped his shoe against the pavement and hung his head. At this point, Dean knew he should say something, but Cas seemed so adamant about him not saying a fucking word.

“I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

Dean wanted to choke. Cas was literally admitting that he didn’t know how to break up with him.

“Hey, that’s okay buddy. I can take a hint. Sorry I make this so fucking weird, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, ” Dean said, his voice breaking.

“No, Dean I believe that’s my faul-”

“It was kind of stupid for me to think you’d feel...you know.”

Dean couldn’t make eye contact with Cas as he spoke. He felt so ashamed. In order to get through his sentence, he had to stare at the cracks in the pavement. Where was the beer when you needed it?

The silence was more of a punch to the gut than any words Cas could have said. Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, imagining the horror on Cas’s face as he disappeared to as far away from Dean as possible. He couldn’t look up. He couldn’t look up and see that Cas was gone.

After a minute or maybe and hour, Dean pushed himself off the Impala and looked up. He thought he’d just go back to the bunker and pray that when Sam got back he doesn’t notice anything.

Cas was still there. He was standing right in front of Dean like nothing had happened. What the fuck?

“How is it possible for you to be this dense?” Cas demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve outsmarted demons, wendigos, and witches, but you think I’m rejecting you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Is flirting with random blonde chicks a part of angel courting or something?”

Cas stepped closer to Dean, looking more confused than angry. Dean wanted to end this conversation right fucking now. He’d already humiliated himself more than he ever thought was possible. At this point, he’d be lucky if he and Cas could ever make eye contact again.

“Do you mean Sarah? She was very nice, but I told her I wasn’t interested.”

Dean paused. His heart sped up for a moment before he forced it to settle down. Cas was not saying what Dean thought he was saying. Dean saw them together; how happy they looked. He dipped his head again and looked away.

“Is that why you left so suddenly?”

“Come on, Cas...you’re you, and I’m just...me. It was stupid to think it could work in the first place.”

“Dean…”

Dean felt Cas’s hand on his chin, so he shrugged it off. He’d had enough of being man handled today, thank you very much. But Cas was a persistent son of a bitch and gently titled Dean’s face to him.

“If you weren’t so busy attempting to sabotage your own happiness, maybe you would have noticed what was right in front of you.”

He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying? Right. No fucking way. No, no, no.

“I’d very much like to enter into a relationship with you.”

Dean blinked a few times. The words took a moment to process. Cas wanted to date him. Cas wanted to date him. Once the words registered in Dean’s brain, every emotion flooded his system at once. He couldn’t sort them out; some of it felt like excitement other parts were shock. HIs brain couldn’t decide which parts to act on.

“Dean? Did you hear me?”

“Yea..yea I heard you, Cas.”

“Because if you have changed your mind-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, no! No! God no!”

Cas’s brow was furrowed in that adorable way that really made Dean want to kiss him. And then he realized that words only fucked things up. Hell yes, kissing was the only fucking appropriate thing to do.

So, Dean grabbed the back of Cas’s neck and kissed him in the parking lot of a random bar. And it was amazing. Cas was warm, rough, and he smelled like home. As Cas combed his fingers through Dean’s hair, Dean wondered how he’d gone without this for so long. Maybe Cas didn’t know what he was doing, but Dean was pretty sure no kiss could ever compare to this.

A large drop of water hit Dean’s nose, and he pulled away. Cas whined a little, so Dean pressed a kiss to the top of his nose. Another raindrop hit his head, followed by another and another.

“I think we may have to move inside, Cas. It’s starting to rain.”

When Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket, he glanced sideways and noticed something strange. It was raining on them, but the rest of the ground seemed dry. The hell?

“Hey, Cas...why’s it only raining on us?”

Cas tilted his head like Dean was failing to understand something very simple.

“I heard that kissing in the rain was romantic. Was the internet wrong?”

Dean paused and looked at the genuinely confused expression on Cas’s face. Then, he started laughing. He couldn’t help it. Here he was, kissing the man he loved in the rain because an angel of the lord heard from the internet that it was romantic.

Dean put both his hands in Cas’s hair so that Cas would stop looking like he had done something wrong. This clueless, romantic, angel was Dean’s. All his. And he really liked the way that looked.

“Yea, Cas, it’s romantic.”

Just to prove it, Dean kissed him again even though they were both going to be soaking wet. And Dean was pretty sure, no matter how fucking cheesy it was, that it was the best kiss he’d ever had.

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Dean,” Cas said as they were laying on the bed.

Thank god Sam was gone or else he probably would have seen much more of Cas and Dean than he ever wanted to. Frankly, Dean wasn’t quite sure where his shirt had ended up. Maybe it was somewhere under Cas’s pants…

“Who did you think was writing those notes to you?” Cas asked.

Dean turned his face into the pillow trying not to turn bright red. Fuck, he was so stupid.

“...Sam.”

“I don’t think you’re brother’s in love you with you, Dean.”

”No, I don’t think he is. I guess that just leaves you, huh?”

Cas looped his arm around Dean’s waist and snuggled on his chest. Dean would never say it aloud, because the word ‘cuddling’ was not in his vocabulary, but it felt nice. He finally had someone who wasn’t going to leave. He had a home. Cas was home.

Chapter Text

It’s not like Dean meant to hide their relationship from Sam. Really. He didn’t. But since he and Cas had gotten together, he’d had much more important things on his mind than formally telling his brother he was in a relationship.

He just assumed that Sam would eventually figure it out. Sure, he’d try to be all fucking girly and have a conversation about it, but Dean would tell him to ‘fuck off’ and then life would go back to normal. Except Cas would probably have the front seat in the Impala, and two motels rooms would become standard. Because Dean was not going to concede sex just so Sam’s precious innocence could be preserved.

Maybe Dean had given Sam too much credit over the last couple years for his intelligence. Or maybe Dean had become a hell of a lot better at subtly. Either way, when Sam returned the bunker and didn’t say a word about Cas’s room being abandoned or late night chats, Dean assumed that for once Sam was not trying to force Dean into a therapy session.

Wrong. So very fucking wrong

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dean had never been an overly affectionate person. He didn’t feel the need to kiss Cas every time they stepped outside or smother him in public places.

Dean wasn’t ashamed of being with Cas. But after every they’d been through, their relationship felt too personal to expose. Dean told Cas things that he’d never even told Sam. They were both laying out their hearts and souls to each other, and nobody else needed to be a part of that. But they still held hands while sitting at dinner, and Cas clung to his side like a barnacle. Besides, once they were alone, all bets were off.

So honestly, Sam got what he deserved.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

“There’s a vampire nest somewhere in Cheyenne,” Dean said, stroking Cas’s side.

“When are we leaving?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Sam’s still researching, so we have to wait for his verdict.”

Cas hummed and curled up against Dean’s side. They were both too worn out to properly focus, so Dean simply settled for wrapping his arms around the angel-his angel. Dean smiled.

Cas officially moved into their bedroom the night they kissed. Cas didn’t have a lot of things, mostly just trinkets he’d picked up on cases. Dean quickly learned that Cas did not have clothes outside his trench coat, which resulted in a trip to the mall. Dean could now proudly say Cas owned a few pairs of jeans and t-shirts, which now littered their bedroom floor.

These moments were nice. Where they had a comfy bed to themselves and absolutely nowhere to be. Dean had never had something like this before. It all just felt so easy and natural. It felt like forever. And sometimes that scared the shit out of him. But then he’d look around their bedroom and see the dumb honey bee charm he’d bought Cas in Wisconsin or Cas would fall asleep against his shoulder during movie marathons. Then it didn’t seem so scary anymore.

“You’re thinking,” Cas said.

“It happens sometimes.”

Cas nipped at Dean’s neck, and all ‘thinking’ went out the window. They still had a few hours, and Sam had been such a bitch about splurging on a second motel room last case that Dean was pretty sure this was the last time they’d be having sex on an actual bed.

“You up for round two?”

He didn’t hear Cas’s reply because there were more important things to worry about. Cas a figured out about that spot on Dean’s neck and his feathery ass loved to use it against him.

“Hey, Dean. I think I...Oh my fucking god! What the hell man!”

Dean blindly reached for something to cover himself while Cas just tilted his head at Sam. Cas still didn’t fully understand the concept of privacy, but Dean sure as hell didn’t want his brother seeing him have sex. Of course, the first piece of clothing he found was Cas’s jeans. He was tempted to change, but at this point his dignity was already gone. Fuck me

“Why does Sam sound like he’s in distress?” Cas asked.

Dean zipped up the jeans and headed for the door. “Just give me a minute.”

To Dean’s surprise, Sam was just standing in the hallway. His face was blank, and Dean didn’t honestly know if that was good or bad. He approached his brother slowly, hoping that somehow would make it better.

“So, you and Cas.”

“Yea.”

“Is it serious? Cause I don’t know if I can deal with you two being friends with benefits or whatever.”

“No, it’s serious. Like forever.”

“Oh. Well, like I've told you before, if it makes you happy, that’s really great. Really really great. I don't remember the last time you were really happy.”

Dean nodded.

“And if you ever want to talk about anything, I’d be more-”

“Stop! I’m not interested in talking about my feelings, Samantha. I’ll put a sock on the door next time, alright. And Cas is riding shotgun.”

“Cool. But, really, I know that coming o-”

“Sam, I’m not fucking interested.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll just… be in the kitchen, researching. I think I have a lead whenever you...”

Dean raised his eyebrows, and Sam finally took that as his cue to leave. Dean sighed, watching Sam try not to run down the hallway. Served him right. Whatever happened to fucking knocking.

“Dean? Is Sam alright?”

Cas poked his head out of their bedroom, hair ruffled in a million directions. Dean smiled, remembering what he’d been doing before Samsquatch came barging in.

“He’s fine, Cas. We’ve got more important stuff to finish.”