Archive of Our Own ^beta

They dance around their first kiss forever.

It’s silly, almost, how long they fail to close that last bit of distance between them, considering how little distance between them is left. They’ve gotten close over the last months, not just in spirit, but physically, too: they never used to touch so much, but since they embraced, it seems like they can’t ever stop.
More embraces at first, to say hello, then to say goodbye as well, and then just because it feels nice. Shoulder touches, back touches, arm touches. Leg touches, when they’re sitting next to each other. Face touches.

Hand touches.

The first time Castiel took his hand, Sam stopped breathing for a moment, and had to ask the angel to repeat his next couple of sentences. Castiel smiled at him, squeezed Sam’s fingers, and patiently met his request. He didn’t let go for the rest of their conversation.

He doesn’t let go easily at all. It’s as though with every new line they cross, Castiel is admitted to a new garden, and he wants to smell and look at every flower in it. Their shoulders brush once, and Sam doesn’t pull back, so Castiel repeats the motion purposely a little while later. When Sam’s reply is a smile and a blush, his angel takes to leaning against him when their positions permit it. Sam rests his head on Castiel’s and tries to work up the nerve to put his arm around the angel’s shoulders.

It takes him a week, during which he blushes a lot and scolds himself even more for acting like a teenager. When he finally manages, he can’t even look at Cas, who hums softly and nestles into his side.
They’re cuddling. If Sam hadn’t been there for the entire process, he’d be wondering how the hell they got there.

Castiel has no such qualms. Castiel drapes his arms around Sam, pulls him close, pets him, runs his fingers through Sam’s hair. Walks up to Sam and wraps his arms around the hunter’s waist from behind. Laces their fingers together when they stand side by side. Watches over Sam when he sleeps; and later, when Castiel starts needing sleep himself, Sam’s hand on the hem of his shirt when they say good night is all it takes for him to lie down where he used to sit, his limbs tangled with Sam’s, his breath soft and warm against Sam’s collar bone, his hand so gentle in Sam’s hair that he can’t remember why he used to be afraid of sleep.

And every new touch, every new flush of blood in Sam’s cheeks, is answered with smiles. Tender smiles, gentle smiles. Patient smiles. Grateful ones. Like he’s thankful for every inch Sam’s willing to give him. Like that’s something to want. Something to cherish. Beautiful, precious, like Castiel’s fingers on the back of Sam’s hands, Castiel’s warmth against Sam’s skin, Castiel’s kindness in the face of Sam’s mistakes. It’s wonderful.

Sam’s in love.

But the kissing takes time.

Castiel has touched his lips to Sam’s temples, his brows, his hands on a few memorable occasions. And Sam, he’s buried his face in Castiel’s hair and pressed a kiss or two to the crown of his head.
It’s not strictly platonic. From the outside it probably looks ridiculous, how they keep avoiding touching their lips to each other. But it just… doesn’t happen.

It keeps almost happening, and then doesn’t.
They’ll be standing together, sitting together, lying together. Their hands entwined or their arms around one another. Their eyes turned towards each other, their gazes locked, their faces so close they can feel each other’s breath. They’d just have to lean a little closer, close that tiny bit of space between their lips…

But it never happens.

And Castiel doesn’t push.

And Sam gets flustered and starts thinking he’s probably misinterpreted everything between them. Maybe Cas just has a very physical way of showing his friendship. Maybe he doesn’t really like Sam that way. How could he? Cas is an angel. Well, not so much, now, but still. He was created an angel. He’ll always be an angel to Sam. Strong and good and pure and wonderful. Not like Sam. Sam’s…

Tainted.
Impure.
Unclean.

Cas can’t want that.

So when they stand in the shadows of a tree one summer night, stars above the canopy of leaves that shields them, fireflies dancing in the grass at their feet, Castiel’s arms around Sam’s neck and Sam’s arms around Castiel’s waist, despite the proximity of their faces, Sam doesn’t expect anything to come of it.

They’ve been there before. Well, not in this particular spot, crickets chirping, lights glimmering, summer heat just dissipating in the air, but the situation is familiar. Sam has his arms around Cas all the time. Castiel’s hands wander over Sam’s shoulders almost every day.
Their faces have been this close before, Sam’s thought this is it several times and then… nothing happened. No kiss. Moment passed. This one will pass as well.

And to be honest, Sam’s not as upset as he could be. It’s not like he doesn’t want to kiss Castiel - he does, oh, does he want to. But really, doesn’t he have so much already? A trusted, loyal friend, who’s unafraid to touch him, who will watch over him, chase off his nightmares with soft touches and sleepy murmurs, who’ll listen to all Sam’s concerns, who trusts Sam with his own sorrows, who fights at his side both in a physical and a metaphorical sense. Who’s so beautiful in the dim moonlight, and so close, allowing Sam to observe that beauty without fear, fondness on his face, fireflies dancing in his eyes. There’s nothing between them in this moment, no distrust, no distance, no disdain. Neither of them speaks, and yet Sam feels like they’ve been saying everything for the last eternity.

"Sam", Castiel says, softly, his rough voice so, so gentle.

"Yeah."

"I would very much like to kiss you. If you will permit it."

Sam’s entire world slides to a stop. He’s not even sure his heart keeps beating. His breath is still. He can’t hear the world around them. He can’t see it moving. He can see Castiel, in front of him, his face so close, his eyes so blue, so wide, so hopeful. In this moment, he’s not sure any of it is real.

"You can say no", Castiel promises, the sound of his voice breaking the spell. Yes. The world is moving again. Sam can hear the wind in the trees, crickets, cars in the distance. The earth is solid under his feet. Castiel said something.

"What?" Sam asks, before the words register in his brain. "No! I mean, yes. I mean, no, I don’t want to say no. I don’t - I’d like you to kiss me. I’d like to kiss you. I…"

He trails off. Castiel is smiling at him, that soft smile, the one where his mouth barely curves, but his eyes shine with warmth and crinkle at the corners. The fond one.

He’s taller, suddenly, Sam’s brain catching up after a second to elucidate that the angel has risen on tiptoes, and Castiel’s hands are cupping Sam’s face, pulling him downwards gently, so gently, and Sam’s going with the pull and then Castiel’s lips are on his and oh.

Oh.

It’s so easy.

It’s so simple, so uncomplicated, to kiss him. To be kissed. To kiss back. To move his lips against Castiel’s, to draw apart, to kiss again. To pull him closer, to run his hands over his back. To tilt his head where Castiel’s fingers in his hair guide him. To part his lips under Castiel’s tongue and meet it with his own. It isn’t hard at all.
Why did he think it was?
Why did he think this couldn’t happen? Why couldn’t he imagine Castiel’s fingers in his hair as the angel kisses him like Sam’s the best thing he ever tasted, Castiel pushing him carefully backwards against the trunk of the tree, Castiel pressing his entire body against him as if trying to melt into Sam so they’ll never be able to part, never have any distance between them again? It’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s right. It’s how it should be.

"I love you, Cas", Sam whispers when he finally feels like he can pull his lips away from the angel’s. "I love you."

"And I, you", Castiel murmurs back, a little laugh evidence that the reference to their first meeting is intentional. "I love you very much, Sam Winchester."

Castiel’s lips can’t seem to leave Sam for the next couple of days.