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*****
“Dean… I think I’m in love with you.”
He’s cleaning the engine bay under the hood as Cas says it, half-covered in oil from the Impala, hair messy and slightly greasy from sweat, tools in hand—but he’s just finished laughing. A laugh like the ones people have when they don’t have a single trouble in their lives (or just forget them all, for a second): sonorous, glorious, and proud. Castiel loves it when Dean laughs like that. He throws his head back like he can’t keep his body upright, and Cas feels like he’s the only living thing in the whole wide world.
Except he’s not. Dean is.
“What?” the syllable drops from Dean’s mouth without notice. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s moved his lips to word it. In fact, he barely has.
“I am.” Castiel knows he shouldn’t say it. He regrets it already, but it’s too late to stop his mouth from working now. It seems to have taken a life of its own. He’s standing there in the garage, a screwdriver in his hand that Dean had asked him to hold a few moments before—and he doesn’t even know. Castiel doesn’t even know. How this all happened. One moment they were checking the Impala, chatting to the background of some Led Zeppelin song, and then… then Dean made some comment, and Cas made a joke. It wasn’t even that funny, but Dean thought otherwise: he burst into the most beautiful laugh Cas had ever witnessed by mankind, and he was so light and carefree that his happiness was contagious.
Maybe Cas felt it a little himself. Maybe he wanted to feel it too. So it slipped out of him.
He hadn’t really planned to say it. But now—now Dean was standing there with mechanical tools in his hands and a gazillion question marks on his handsome face, and maybe Castiel didn’t feel like hiding anymore.
There’s no point in lying anyway. The words were already out.
“I’m in love with you, Dean.”
It doesn’t help that Dean’s looking at him like that.
Cas’ face is completely straight. He’s as open as he’s ever gonna be. Dean is suffering from a severe case of inability to motor function.
"I--I,— bgh,...… hhum."
Castiel waits. He squints his eyes a little and tilts his head, studying him. He gives him time to process the information. Eight to twelve seconds should be more than enough.
“Uh,” Dean nervously laughs, “whaaat, come on, man?”
His voice is weirdly pitched, way too high for his usual deep timbre.
Of course he thinks it’s a joke. They were joking after all.
Cas watches him as he keeps gasping for air like he’s some kid who’s been found guilty of stealing candy by the store manager and now needs to explain why his pockets are full of sweets.
Cas wonders if that’s a normal reaction. He doesn’t say another word. Hopes that silence will speak for his cause.
Dean hears it in its entirety and it becomes loud. Embarrassment and fear and heartbeat all rise together, and Cas can feel the change in his body temperature, heat increasing all over. He knows Dean doesn’t really blush visibly, but if his body could voice what it’s feeling, he’d be crimson right now.
“That, uh…. That’s great, man,” Dean laughs, nervously gesturing around, not knowing where to rest his eyes.
Anywhere in the room but on Cas.
The whole exchange hasn’t lasted a minute, but it feels like forever.
“I’m just, uh…” he starts fumbling with the tools at his reach, and half of them clang on the floor like his hands are made of butter. They may be, for all he knows. His whole body seems to be holding itself together by some kind of miracle.
“Just gotta….uhhhh, gotta…”
Cas sighs, takes a step towards him—and Dean freezes in terror, “Wait, Cas, I—”
Two fingers land on his forehead, and the gentle touch brings his mind to peace again.
And just like that, Dean’s laughing light and carefree.
“Man, that was such a funny one!” Dean croaks, as he passes the back of his forearm on his cheek to brush some black dirt from the car. The rest of the laugh follows as he turns towards Baby again, and gets back to work under its hood.
Cas’ smile is a shadow. His blue glance falls to the dirty tiles on the floor.
“Yes,” he repeats, “Such a funny one.”
***
The second time that it happened they were in the kitchen of the bunker. Dean had just said something self-derogatory in an after-dinner conversation and Castiel was trying to make him change his mind. The conversation had soon shifted into a heated debate where Dean pointed at all his flaws and Cas retorted with all his good qualities. Dean had laughed and said, “Well thank you, buddy, at least someone appreciates me,” while pouring himself another drink from the bottle of scotch on the table, and Castiel had replied, “Of course I do. I love you.”
Again, he didn’t really mean to say it, but there it was. A recurring thought he couldn’t shake. A breath of air that belonged on his lips.
“Woo, okay, we’re feeling extra cheesy tonight, I see. How many of these d’you have, uh?” He hid a nervous laugh as he drank his own one, hiding behind the glass because God forbid he said it back.
Of course Cas knew Dean loved him, his just wasn’t the way that Cas loved him.
“Actually, I… I meant it Dean.” Castiel’s eyes were honest now, calm and caring, and maybe for the first time… sincere. “I do.” It was almost like a realization, like he wasn’t completely sure the first time (even though he knew), but here it was again, that same feeling, and the sole fact of finally being able to give it a name was… liberating.
He felt it in his chest and it somehow radiated outside. In all its warmth.
“I love you.”
Dean was just gaping there, dumfounded. Kind of like the first time.
Castiel waited. Like the first time.
At least for a few seconds more.
***
It was similar the third time. Almost nothing was different, except for the conversation. They were talking about movies and actors and Dean was giving animated opinions and Castiel just interrupted him with an I love you.
Dean had brought his eyes up and locked them in his, from the other side of the table. It was sudden. Like he just heard an enemy attack and all his senses had begun to tingle. His eyes were wide. His mouth hung slightly open, like he hadn’t heard well. Cas’ eyes replied in his stead.
The fifth time they were in the library. The seventh in the Impala, driving back from a case with Sam passed out sleeping in the back seat, and Dean almost crashed the car. The twelfth time it was while folding laundry. Dean was folding, at least, Castiel was just sitting on the bed studying the labels on the clothes while Dean talked.
It was by the vending machines of some random motel in Iowa the fifteenth time. Cas doesn’t even remember how many times it’s happened anymore, but he remembers all of them, distinctly, with celestial precision.
It’s become mostly a habit now. A guilty pleasure he can’t do without. Loving Dean isn’t something he can just tone down, and after he let it out free and wild that first time, he hasn’t been able to keep it silent ever since.
Dean’s in front of him, and Cas loves him. It’s just the way it is. And if he feels the need to say it out loud, every now and then, who can blame him?
Just saying it is enough for him.
It’s the most that he can get anyway. Saying it. And so he does.
Again and again and again.
He says it because he doesn’t really have another choice. Because the truth sets him free, and yet, at the same time, like the most beautiful phenomena in nature, it backfires.
Castiel always thought that Chuck had a weird sense of humor, when he chose to make some of the most poisonous animals and plants on Earth, also the most beautiful. They would draw one in closer, mesmerized by their treacherous beauty, and it would be fatal.
That’s what this felt like, for Cas. A double-edged sword, sharper than any weapon he’d ever held in his own hands. A dramatic freefall from the heights of the skies into the unknown. Until the depths of the sea, whatever one may find down there.
Beautiful and fatal.
It hurt. Each time it hurt like hell. But that too, has become a habit.
He’s stuck in this loop, of loving Dean, one-sidedly, and it’s sweet and it hurts just so painfully enough to make it feel good—and Cas can’t have any of it, but he can have that.
Those brief moments with Dean, where he gets to be himself and speak the truth of his heart.
Where he gets to see the unfiltered speck of real between them, in Dean’s eyes.
When he can feel the warmth coming from Dean, unknowingly, in knowing that he is loved, at least—before something else comes up: panic, fright, confusion, stinging sadness, with a splash of remorse and anguish all imbued in fear.
It took Cas many of those times to identify those emotions, but they were unmistakable. He had recognized all of them separately, on different occasions, and had collected just the right amount of information to know that those were not the expected kinds of feelings one should feel when confronted with heartfelt admissions of love.
And maybe it wasn’t right doing it this way. It was an imposition—Castiel knew that it was, and he felt bad for putting Dean through it each time, but he couldn’t help it: he was addicted to that flicker of light he saw light up in Dean every time that he confessed his love.
There was something… just a little something he perceived, coming from Dean.
Hope. Exhilaration. Joy.
From being loved.
It only lasted a few instants, though—and then it would be replaced by the other far less pleasant human emotions—but it was there.
It was there, and Castiel was obsessed by it.
He kept chasing it like a drug. It was intoxicating. And that’s why he kept coming back to it, to relive it all again, to indulge in the careful understanding of every single shade of its glow.
The thing was, what sparked it was the element of surprise. Which was why Cas couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t even want to bring himself to stop.
“I love you.” Those words had been freed from Castiel’s heart and they just couldn’t be tamed. He kept repeating them, over and over, and Dean’s eyes were shining just the same every time. And he kept erasing his memory over and over, just to see it shine again.
He knew it wasn’t completely fair to Dean, he knew he should’ve stopped doing it—but if he went back every time and Dean had no memory of it, then it didn’t really happen.
It didn’t really happen.
Cas knew he couldn’t love Dean. He probably shouldn’t—but he had found a place for his love in those parentheses, in those invisible moments in between life.
His love could be alive there, it could finally stretch and breathe and blossom—and feeling it get stung and violently break like a balloon meeting needle every time was painful enough to be considered a fitting punishment for indulging the temptation.
And so, against all sane judgement, Castiel persisted.
Even more perversely, he indulged.
Slowly attempting to make those parentheses last just tiny bits longer.
It was wild and clinical at times. Castiel squinted his eyes and tried to linger in it, finding the courage to test the waters and wait for Dean’s reaction to unfold.
He wasn’t brave enough to let him openly and fully reject him—he couldn’t bring himself to wait till that part, but he could feel it coming, every time, and he would try and push himself to wait until the very last millisecond, before it was too late, to fix things and bring them back the way they were supposed to be.
He’d wait, eyes wandering curious and set to sense Dean’s soul, studying his reactions: sweating, stuttering, grasping at straws… he truly didn’t know how to break it to his best friend’s heart and it distressed him, and Castiel couldn’t bear to see it through.
“Don’t worry, Dean, I know. It’s fine. I’m sorry about that,” he would say sometimes, and Dean’s memory was gone, back to blank before he even had the chance to process the statement.
***
He’s cleaning the kitchen one afternoon. He and Sam have just been back from a week-long hunt and Sam’s gone shopping for groceries and supplies. Castiel watches Dean wipe the plates, put them on the shelf over the sink.
“I can help,” Cas says, and Dean waves his arm.
“Naa, m’finished. We’re done here. So you gonna stay for a while now? Or are you heading back to Cloudland?”
Castiel hums a quiet laugh, “No, I can stay for a while. Unless something comes up.”
“Uh,” Dean nods, absently, like he doesn’t care that much anyway. “Cool. Yeah, good to know.” He wipes his hands dry and throws the towel on the counter. “Haven’t seen you here in a while,” he adds, his voice lowering against his will, getting thinner—so he clears his throat.
“How was the hunt?” Castiel asks. He sees a scar behind his neck that came from the fight and wonders how could anyone wanna hurt Dean. It just doesn’t make sense in his mind.
“We went, they fought back, we kicked their asses. As usual.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Dean asks, and he’s leaning back against the counter.
“Cut yourself short,” Cas’ reply is matter-of-fact. “You always do, but what you and Sam do is not,” and he raises his hands up in the air to mime the air quotes, “usual.”
“Okay, yeah. Whatever.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Look, I’ve been doin’ it since before I learned how to drive, okay? Doesn’t really feel special anymore.”
“But I’m telling you, it is,” Castiel weighs in. He can’t stand to see Dean’s self-worth insecurities devour him lately. Not when he feels like he can help. “It’s admirable.”
It’s already too much. Dean’s body isn’t used to handling praise. Like an oversoaked sponge, he’s already squirming to escape from compliments. There’s some primitive instinct that’s ingrained in his body that denies praise and doesn’t know how to accept it. How to accept that he is worthy of love.
Castiel wishes he could fix that.
He knows he can’t, but he’s addicted to trying anyway.
“It’s one of the reasons why I’m in love with you.”
Dean’s mouth drops and time stops. It always does.
It feels like an hour has passed before Dean’s mental gears come back to command his voice to function again.
“I’m sorry?” Dean’s eyes are squeezed. He looks sweaty and hot, and at the same time freezing with fever. “What did you just say?” He looks like his head is spinning, Cas worries he might collapse to the ground.
He never does.
“You’re so worthy of love Dean. You deserved so much better than what life gave you. You deserved a whole family to care for you just as much as you’ve been caring for everyone else around you. You may not see it, but I do.”
“No, the part before that,” he corrects himself, “after that, what was it?”
“That I love you.”
It’s a silver stake through the heart. But Cas says it so simply, like those words are lighter than the air, and not weighing like the Empire State Building.
“You uh, um….”Dean starts to fumble, losing words and phrases and mixing them together in a way that doesn’t follow the common rules of syntax. That phase always arrives at this point. It doesn’t last long, and that’s when Castiel knows it’s almost time for it to be over.
“No, you, um…” Dean squeezes his eyes even more, unable to look at him. His head facing the ground at his own feet, the world spinning even stronger around him, and Castiel takes a step forward—
And Dean’s whole body flinches.
That’s what hurts Castiel the most every time. A slow death would be less painful, but that’s the price he has to pay for his sin.
“Don’t worry, Dean, it’s fine,” Cas sighs out resigned and worn out, misery spreading on his face with such a habit he hadn’t even noticed he was showing it this openly, and he raises two fingers to his forehead—and Dean leaps back away from them, with a “Woah, woah, STOP. Right there, what are you—”
He locks his eyes with Cas’, pinning him in his place, and adrenaline fires up Cas’ whole body waking him up, because he can see it in Dean’s eyes. Something’s changed. This thing is new.
Dean stands there, hand clawed on his forearm over his trench coat and eyes wondering wide, and Castiel knows this is the end.
“Were you gonna—" Awareness arises, but his voice drops. “Cas?” The look in his eyes is fragile, innocent for a moment. Hurt. He’s searching for the truth in Cas’ glance, giving him the chance to explain.
“I’m so sorry Dean,” Castiel hides from his eyes, he wants to hide from all parts of him, wants to have his wings so he can fly away in a blink, and never set foot back in here for the rest of his life—change his vessel, return to Heaven, get assigned desk work.
Anything but this.
“Yes,” Cas admits, his voice barely there to be found, “I was going to erase your memory of it.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?” Castiel asks, “You know why. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“Then you shouldn’t have fucking told me you loved me!!” The pitch in Dean’s voice gets hysterical there, then he calms down, passes a hand on the stubble on his face and jaw and he takes a few steps deeper into the kitchen, leaving Cas behind.
“Jesus. Cas. What were you thinkin’???”
Castiel’s glance falls impossibly downer. This is new territory. He doesn’t know what’s gonna happen next. How Dean’s going to react. But there’s no point in keeping the truth from him.
“I know. I shouldn’t have told you...”
“Wait. Wait. Stop.” Dean turns and he’s squeezing his eyes hard, holding his hand up. “That’s another discussion. I’m talking about the angel mojo trick.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Dean repeats, nodding alongside him with anger, “Oh. What the hell was that??”
“I’ve done it other times before, Dean,” Castiel admits, tired of withholding it. “I’m not proud of it, but it was just a harmless thing, I never meant for you to remember it anyway.”
The look on Dean’s face can only be described as horror.
“You did what?”
“It’s nothing, Dean…”
“Nothing??” Dean’s voice rises impossibly higher. “NOTHING??”
Castiel senses anger. He should’ve expected that.
“How many times?”
“I…”
“It’s not an impossible question, Cas,” Dean presses, “how many times did you do it? Erase my memory, say…” he blocks there, uncomfortable, “that… to me.”
“I… I don’t…”
“What, you don’t know??” Dean interrupts him. His eyebrows as high as his hairline. Castiel senses disappointment.
“A hundred times.” Cas’ voice is stale, “More.” His stare fixed on the ground, hard, confident. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“Oh it does. Cas.” His name on Dean’s lips feels wrong now, becomes a bad word, “That’s not the way it works, you don’t get to play with other people’s minds.”
“You’re right.” Castiel can feel all the strength leave his body and his muscles turn mush. He doesn’t even know how he’s standing, it feels like he may liquify instantly from the shame.
“Give them back.”
“What?”
“My memories. All of them, every single one that you took from me, I want them back. Now.”
“Dean…”
“Cass, I swear…” Dean’s jaw tightens, and rage holds so many emotions back. Castiel isn’t sure he wants to know what they are.
Cas needs to remind himself how to walk in a human vessel. But he takes a few steps towards Dean. He’s scared to touch him. His gelid glance is daring, fierce, and slicing, but Castiel touches him anyway.
His two fingers set themselves on his temple, and Dean closes his eyes, and it all washes back into Dean, all together. All the dozens of times Cas had confessed to him, all his reactions to it, everything.
It takes a few moments, and Castiel holds back his own emotions as he sees tears falling down the corners of Dean’s eyes.
When he reopens them, their green is wild.
It’s a forest Castiel is scared to peak into.
“Dean I… I must apologize.”
“No” Dean’s completely dumbfounded now. Eyes crazy, emotions rushing all together in him like a tsunami. Castiel can’t even tell them apart. “No…” It’s all he manages to say, backing off with a menacing index finger pointed at him. “This is not something you get to apologize for.” His voice is glacial, barely audible.
“I know,” Castiel can’t look at him, gaze dropped to the floor.
“What am I supposed to do with all this??” Dean yells, and it’s a desperate cry for help.
Castiel’s body heats up in a way he didn’t think possible. The room feels smaller. He perceives being underground. He feels caged, trapped.
And it’s all a hundred percent his fault.
“Maybe I could…” Castiel starts, but he trails off.
“I could erase your memory one last time. All of it. I would never say or do anything else like this, ever again, Dean, you have my sacred word,” Castiel says, as he takes a step forward to emphasize how much he means it.
“DON’T—” Dean stops him with his hand. His voice barely a furious whisper, “don’t you fucking dare...” His index threatens him, and Castiel is an angel, but he is also scared. Dean’s anger is the most terrifying thing he’s ever had to face, and he thinks this time it’s permanent, and there’s no way to fix this fatal mistake, and it’s all his fault.
Beautiful and fatal.
This is how their friendship dies.
And a part of Cas with it.
“I…” Castiel is at a loss of words. Can’t even look Dean in the eyes. Can’t say sorry. All he can say is:
“I’ll just go.” Tears gather in his eyes and he doesn’t think he does a good job in keeping them in. “I can’t make it up to you. And I know the last thing you want to do is see me, so I’ll just…”
“—Will you STOP assuming and just gimme a fuckin’ minute???”His eyes are as furious as his voice, but his hand is steady, he’s stopping him from leaving, he’s asking him to wait.
And so Castiel waits, as silence falls back into the kitchen and descends upon them, all around, setting on their skin as heavy as lead, and amplifying each other’s presence like an echo.
Castiel’s muscles are paralyzed, he hears his heart beating in his chest…. As Dean metabolizes… his fists clenching and unclenching, his gaze dropped and his jaw tightening in movements he doesn’t seem to be willing to control.
And he looks for the words, for the concepts, for the shapes and fears and he doesn’t find any, but he knows something is pulling him towards one only certainty.
“What the fuck, Cas?” his voice is lowered now, more measured. “How could you do that?”
The look of utter disgust in Dean’s eyes. Cas can’t even bring himself to bear it, hiding his glance by looking at the floor, trying to become even smaller in his vessel. He would shrink and shrink until he became the size of an ant if he could, and he would let Dean step on him, crush him as he deserves.
“HOW,” Dean starts, anger rising again behind his eyes like tongues of fire, “could you do this to me, uh?? What am I, a toy to you?”
“Of course not, this—"
“—You’ve been messing with my mind like I got no choice—”
“—I… I know, Dean, I’m sorry…”
“—Naomi did that to you, man!” He yells, “And she didn’t even—” he stops himself, can’t bring himself to finish the thought.
Love you.
Dean probably means to say.
She didn’t even love you.
Castiel can see how this could mess up a person.
Frustration gets the best of Dean. A sigh, a hand on his face and he turns around, giving him his back.
Castiel takes the chance to raise his glance from the floor—Dean can’t even look at him. And he has every right.
Every right.
And there’s simply no escape from it this time. Erasing his mind all those past times had been wrong, but not as wrong as it would be doing it now. No, this time is different. Cas wouldn’t be erasing a meaningless moment in Dean’s life to do him a favor, he would be erasing his own moment of facing the consequences of his actions, a moment that he knew was long coming, and that Dean had all the right to keep and to be fully mad about, for all the time that he deemed fit.
“I’ll do whatever you want. I… understand if you don’t want to have me in your life anymore,” Castiel manages to say, his voice barely audible, “For… for all of it.”
Dean stays silent.
All Cas can see is his back.
“I know what I did… is wrong. I know, believe me.” He’s almost teary again. “I was selfish. It slipped out of my mouth once and… I couldn’t help but keep saying it, Dean... I don’t know how I can even begin to apologize… I should never have played with your mind like that, I don’t know what got into me, I…” his eyes meet the back of Dean’s jacket. “I knew you wouldn’t want to remember, and I didn’t want our friendship to end because of it, so I made you forget the first time, and then I…”
And then I did it again.
And then again.
And again.
“Dean, I’m…”
So sorry, is what he means to say—only he has already, so many times the word has become meaningless. And maybe it was meaningless from the start. He said it anyway because it’s true, but Castiel knows there’s nothing else to do now.
It’s too late.
Dean’s back twitches and his shoulder moves. He can see the back of his head rise to face the ceiling like he’s taking a nervous sigh.
With death in his heart, Castiel feels his body break the moment he finds the strength to move.
“I’ll be out of your way…”
Cas swallows, tasting the bitterness of this moment. His very last moment with Dean.
He turns to go—
“It’s 7.30 in the morning.” Dean’s voice shatters the silence and the whole world, halting Cas in his place. “We were sitting outside of a gas station and I’d just had coffee. You stood by the gas pump and made a stupid joke about honeybees.” He pauses as if calling it back, brushes a hand on his jaw, spits it out like he couldn’t care less, “What’s a happy bumblebee’s blood type, that kinda thing.”
Castiel remembers it. It was a light memory, pleasant, and completely insignificant. Dean had laughed at the joke at the time.
He’s not laughing now.
“That other time we went to Colorado for the rugaru case, the one who targeted young girls. We were alone in the car, sitting at a red light, this real huge crossroad, barely deserted town, golden sunset light shinin’ bright, an’ you started—”
“—humming to the song on the radio,” Cas remembers, with fond surprise. “Simple Man.”
Dean’s head remains still. Silent. Cas squints his eyes and tilts his head confused.
“That movie night when Sam fell asleep and you offered to take him to bed dead weight so we didn’t have to wake him up because he looked so friggin’ peaceful—” Dean’s voice comes out hoarser now, “He was… he was so tired that night, he’d had a rough day.“
Cas tries to speak but Dean turns to face him aggressively “—That time I broke my knee on a hunt and started crying like a damn baby and you healed me in the middle of the forest first thing, while that friggin’ beast was still out an’ running—”
Castiel frowns—
“—You didn’t fucking care about the beast, it could’ve gone an’ killed someone else and yet your stupid priority was my knee!”
“You were in pain...”
“One random afternoon while we were playing cards as Jack watched a movie with Sam in the other room,” Dean takes a step forward and Cas’ eyes grow tender…
“—That time you disappeared and didn’t call for a whole damn month and I was pretty sure that you were dead, and then you came back an’ I yelled at you and didn’t talk to you for two whol’ days. That time you brought me pizza in my room because you knew I was still hungry, and guess what, I was. That morning when I was in the garage working on Baby and you passed me the screwdriver before I even had the chance to ask for it—”
“Dean…”
“When we went to that diner on Seventh and had burgers, and you splattered your shirt with mustard like a baby. Then again, same place, when you came back from the bathroom and said something, whatever, it was cute an’ adorable and the stain was still there anyways…”
“Dean…” Cas’ voice had grown more emotional…
“When we watched Tombstone,” Dean’s voice has gotten hoarser, with a remembering smile, “and you laughed and got sad in all the right places.” Dean takes another step forward, “When I saw you in front of that payphone in the middle of nowhere, real and alive again, and I hugged you and said, Welcome home, pal.”
Cas sniffs.
“Or… whatever the hell I said.”
Dean breaths in.
“Yeah…” he admits.
Cas looks up at him and their eyes meet.
“Yeah….” Dean repeats. “There’s dozens more of those. Hundred random moments I can’t even place in time. Like maybe you just smiled the right way. Or not. Just stared at me. Or did that… eyebrow thing you do. Or sitting in the car, there were a lot of ones sitting in the car. Or anywhere else.”
“Dean.”
“Look, I can’t erase memories. So I never fucking found the way to tell you. But those are all the hundred times I almost did.”
Tears gather around the corners of Castiel’s eyes.
“When I wanted to. An’ felt it so fucking loud it hurt my chest. Literally panged, so I love you, too, Cas. Okay? I do. I fucking love you and if you had simply stopped messing around with my head and given me a fucking minute to pull my mental gears together maybe I could’ve told you sooner, instead of you just erasing my mind every time!”
“I thought…”
“—Well you’re an idiot!!!”
“Well, I…” his teary smile fades into a soft laugh, “suppose I am.”
Dean sniffs too, mirroring the same soft laugh. They’re in front of each other.
“Yeah…” Dean says again, incapable of forming any other word, now lost into his blue eyes… “yeah, you are an idiot.”
There’s relief in his voice and all over his face, like the heaviest weight has been lifted from him, finally freeing him. Cas’ eyes land on Dean, and on his lips.
“You love me too?”
Dean can’t quite move, he’s too enchanted.
“Thought I said it already.”
“I just… “Castiel’s brain isn’t working properly, “I guess I wanted to make sure.”
“Let me make it clear then.”
Dean leans in and places a hand on Castiel’s cheek, the other one on his neck and he kisses him.
He kisses him, and the whole world stops. Time stretches into something unmeaningful, and Castiel never expected this to happen. He never prepared for it—but it’s happening, and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, and more.
Cas kisses back, at first with tears in his eyes, then more desperately, as Dean increases the urgency— Cas almost loses equilibrium as he’s thrown back a few steps until the back of his thighs bump against the table, teeth thud a little and Dean’s lip nearly splits with undertaste of blood, but he doesn’t stop, he could never stop, he’s savoring this kiss like it’s the kiss of a lifetime, and it’s imperfect and handsy and Dean has probably given better kisses in the past, but it doesn’t matter. This one beats them all. Castiel can feel it. He doesn’t know how he knows, but in the delicious delirium of senses that he’s lost in it hits him, with holy certainty. They’re both feeling it.
Castiel doesn’t know how long they keep doing it, exploring each other like this, but they do. They do until they stay there, foreheads touching and eyes closed in that moment in between breaths… It’s a parenthesis between them, a little bubble where nothing else exists, nothing else, and this is real.
It’s just real.
“You gonna erase this moment too?”
Cas snorts with an adrenaline laugh. His hands still gripping on Dean’s shoulders, and Dean releases a laugh too, both still not looking at each other, just lingering in there, in the space between them.
Cas’ hand slides down Dean’s arm, and Dean takes it in his. Brings it to his own chest. “Cas…” he says, “all those times… when you… before you—”
Erased your memory, Cas understands.
It takes Dean quite a few seconds to say it, but then he does. “You thought I was going to reject you.”
Silence. Castiel waits, gathers the strength to speak.
“I was sure of it.”
Dean squeezes his eyes even more closed, foreheads still touching, and squeezes his hand even tighter too.
“Shit, Cas.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Shut up, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. I…” he’s conflicted, Cas can feel that he’s struggling, “How could you do that, all those times?” Dean was starting to understand now, the kind of masochistic pain Cas must’ve chased out. Knowing he kept providing for it, even though unknowingly.
“I… It was the only way that I could…” Castiel attempts to explain, failing, “The look on your face. We were both being honest. I think I kept chasing that, that moment of honesty. It felt like I could really see you. And you could really see me. No matter how much it hurt…”
Castiel’s voice gets even quieter.
“It was the closest I ever got to you.”
“And I hurt you every time.”
“No, that…” Dean’s voice had taken that kind of bitterness he only reserves for his own self-hatred. But denying it would be a blatant lie. “You didn’t mean to.” Castiel says, instead. “It was my fault. I should’ve given you some time and faced the consequences, whatever they were.”
And yet Dean smiles, with his face hidden in the space between them, shaking his head a little. “It’s so weird, man, I… I remember them now. All of them. Distinctively. It’s like they’re overlapping each other but they’re all so different.”
“I’m sorry, it must be confusing.”
“Yeah,” Dean releases the word with exasperated glee, “yeah, confusing is one word for it.”
Cas is confused too. He doesn’t understand if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. The concept seems bad but Dean’s delivery made it seem like it was a good thing after all, and he can’t understand why.
“Shit. I was so stunned, and freaked out every time—”
Cas swallows and brings his glance down. This brings up painful memories, but Dean unknowingly continues.
“I can understand why you’d think I’d reject you. It was like a stab through the heart. Lots of different ways, but… every time I’d feel it all the same.”
“Yeah,” it’s Cas’ turn for the word now, and a sad one.
“Exhilarating.”
“What?”
“Cas, I…” Dean starts, now with a full smile on his face, “I love you. Alright? And I almost told you like a thousand times, I wished I could but—”
“—You were scared,” Cas finishes for him, nodding in careful sympathy.
“Point is, I love you. Every time that you’ve confessed, I loved you back.” Dean says, trying to convey his excitement in a way that Cas can understand, “And I’ve heard you say it, for the first time, for like a hundred fifty different first times.”
And it starts to click on Cas, now, what Dean is trying to say. And why he seems to be delighted about it and is smiling so much.
“Man, I…” The chuckle and smile on Dean’s face is so pure and sweet and full that Castiel’s heart aches. “Shit, I’m being so fucking sappy here but do you have any idea of the gift you gave me?”
Castiel narrows his eyes, “So you’re not mad?”
“Oh, I don’t know about mad, but this is all kinds of awesome.”
Cas squints his eyes and frowns, “That’s an interesting angle to look at it.”
“I mean it!” Dean beams, now incapable of hiding his excitement, like his mind had just started to catch up with the dozens of memories that had been unloaded onto him, and metabolize the rush of emotions they were all imbued with.
“I still think it was wrong, though,” Castiel adds, his eyes narrowing with concern.
“Oh, no it was wrong, I stand by that,” Dean remarks dead serious. “Still. Some of the best things in life are wrong,” he adds, and then smiles, “doesn’t make them less beautiful.”
Beautiful and fatal, Castiel thinks.
“Uh,” Cas reflects—and Dean knows he’s gonna get cocky, because his face morphs into a telling smile, and he gets cocky himself, in anticipation.
“What?”
“I was just wondering,” Castiel says with a faint careful smile, “how that must feel like.”
Dean tugs the corners of his lips downward and nods unceremoniously like he’s casually talking about the sports channel, and he steps back and lifts his leg a little to rest his butt on the table “Pretty fucking good.”
“Because…” Castiel weighs in, curious, and more intentionally, in a way that’s adorably cute, “There were a lot of times.”
And now Dean’s the one with a completely cocky smile hidden on his face, as he nods, knowing he’s holding all the power here. “Oh, I’m aware of that,” he closes his eyes and grazes at them, caressing them in his mind, “and they’re all mine.”
“Including my most embarrassing and miserable moments, I suppose…”
“That’s the price you pay for bein’ a dirty coward, yeah,” Dean opens one of his eyes, now, just to peek at Cas and give him a smile so he knows he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. Castiel is relieved by it, and Dean leans in for a quick peck on the lips, then bounces back to sitting with an even broader smile.
Castiel feels like his body may be liquifying in an instant. He doesn’t know how he gets to deserve all this, but he’s just way passed caring about it at this point. He may get eternal damnation for his sins one day, but seeing Dean smile like that, being so openly in love and carefree, makes it all worth it.
Cas takes a glass from the table and rotates it casually, feigning nonchalance, while his eyes stretch and confidence shines back through him, looking an awful lot like flirting, “You think you’re so powerful now, don’t you?”
“Oh, I am,” Dean Winchester nods, absolutely gloating with cockiness, and Castiel could just slap him, but for now, he won’t. “Not gonna giv’em back, Cas.”
“No, it’s fine, they’re yours. I want you to have them.” And now Castiel’s taken a step towards him and he’s staring right into Dean’s soul, and the power just shifted a whole little. “Every single one of them.”
It shifted a lot, actually. Cas is cheating, but two can play at this game.
“Um, okay,” Dean gulps, trying to hide his feelings. But he can’t, and Cas knows, and he smiles. He gets the angel-of-the-lord confidence back completely and casually asks:
“So?”
“So what?” Dean frowns confused.
“Which one was your favorite?”
“Oh, shut up,” Dean shoves him by one shoulder, getting his butt off the table and they both laugh.
“I’m serious, Dean, I’m gonna need a top five ranking on my desk.”
“Okay, that could be fun,” Dean’s flirting smile pairs with finger guns, “but I’m not gonna tell you.”
“What if I ask nicely?”
“Wrong way to go, pal.”
“What if I fuck it out of you?”
“Woo, where did you learn how to flirt like that?”
“You’ve known me for a long time, Dean, you know I’m resourceful.”
“Ahahhh,” Dean fake laughs, gripping him by the upper arms with a big grin, “still not gonna tell ya.”
Castiel’s blue eyes lodge into Dean’s, so dangerously inside. “We’ll see.”
Dean’s heart stops. It stops and he doesn’t know how long it takes for it to start beating again, but the next thing he knows is he’s kissing Cas again, kissing him like he means it, like he’s finally free to do it.
Like he’s gonna do a hundred, a thousand, a million more times.
And each of these times will be different.
Dean knows it.
He will make sure of it.