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Valentine’s Day was so often an all-around fantastic day for Dean. “Unattached Drifter Christmas”, he liked to call it, when thousands of lonely women descended on bars in an effort to drown their sorrows in drink and maybe pick up a little bit of male attention. Attention that Dean was more than willing to give.
Sam liked to roll his eyes and scoff at the brazen confidence his brother exhibited before heading out to seduce some pretty blonde at some dingy alley bar. But over the last few years, Dean seemed less enthused about picking up lonely women and often spent his Valentine’s Day just like any other day, with barely a comment about hunting for pussy rather than monsters.
This Valentine’s Day seemed altogether different. Sam watched as the day approached and observed his brother withdraw a little and spend more time in his room. Cas had noticed this too and had asked Sam if he knew what it was about, but Sam had no answer for him. He just shrugged and told the angel that Dean was probably upset about something completely tangential and they just had to wait him out until he either dealt with it on his own or wanted to talk about it. Cas had only hummed and narrowed his eyes slightly at the kitchen door that Dean had just retreated through in response.
The 14th of February arrived faster than any of them had expected. Sam sulked slightly because Eileen had been called back to Ireland to attend an Aunt’s funeral, and as such, they could no longer go on the admittedly adorable date that Sam had been planning for them for days. He knew it was not her fault and knew it couldn’t be helped but he was bummed about it anyway.
Dean was watching My Bloody Valentine (the remake, not the original, with a familiar-looking lead) in his room when he heard a soft knock at the door and Sam’s voice calling to him.
“Yeah, come in. What’s up?” He pressed pause on the remote and turned his head to see Sam enter, holding a slab of beer in one hand and a plastic bag full of what looked like chocolate in the other.
“Are those for me? Sammy, your girlfriend has only been gone 3 days, you can’t possibly be so desperate as to ask your brother to be your Valentine.” He laughed as Sam squinted his eyes at him.
“Shut up. Want to get drunk and eat chocolate with me and Cas? I’m heading to him next.” Sam asked and shook the plastic bag in his direction, causing the boxes inside to rattle against each other.
Dean considered this for a moment before shrugging and turning his TV off. “Yeah, why not. Think Cas would be down? Does he even know what day it is?”
“He knows what day it is. We were talking about it the other day. Says that St Valentine was actually a very nice man and he deserved to be celebrated. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a scam invented by greeting card companies and that no one actually thinks about the Saint.” Sam laughed as they walked down the hallway together before coming to a stop in front of Castiel’s closed door.
Dean banged a fist on the door with significantly less care than Sam had knocked on his. “Cas! Open up! We’re getting drunk.” Dean hollered through the closed door. He barely finished his sentence before it swung open to reveal Cas, poised and unruffled as ever, with not a wrinkle in his trench coat.
“You know I cannot get drunk without approximately 167 times the amount of alcohol in those beers, Dean.” He said in a flat, deadpan voice, squinting at the label on the box. “No, 156 times. My mistake.”
“Just get out here and come hang out with us. Sammy’s sad cause his girlfriend left him and he doesn’t want his brother to be his only Valentine.” Dean teased.
“She didn’t leave me! She has a funeral!”
“She ran away to the other side of the world to get away from your overly romantic ass.”
“That is untrue Sam. Eileen loves you very much.” Cas assured him as if it was ever it doubt.
“Thanks, Cas. Nice to see you have my back.” He punched Cas lightly in the arm as they walked down the hall to the Dean-cave together.
It was the best place in the Bunker for hangouts. There were comfy couches and recliners, a big TV for optimal movie watching, a decked-out stereo system with speakers hooked up to record players, CD players, and Cassette players, along with Bluetooth. Sam ran his fingers over the spines of Dean’s CD collection before selecting one at random to play, purely based on the album cover of a rock band with crazy 70s hair.
Dean had rummaged through the bar cart at the side of the room that held all his liquors. Beers were to be kept in the kitchen fridge but spirits were relegated to the vintage wooden bar cart they had found in one of the Bunker’s storerooms and thoroughly checked for any weird curses before pressing it into service in the Dean-cave. He selected a bottle of some dark red berry liqueur he had picked up at an artisanal wine shop on the down-low with Jody. It was good for making cocktails and the alcohol content was so high it would knock you on your ass while the sugar buzzed you back up again.
He dumped the bottle unceremoniously in front of Cas with a large whisky tumbler next to it, rather than the customary small sherry glass one would usually serve such a drink in.
“See if this does anything for you.” He said and Cas picked the bottle up to look at the label.
“This won’t be suf-“
“Cas! I know! 156 times, I know! But you can’t be the only one not drinking.” Dean said with a laugh and clapped him on the back.
“Here here.” Sam said as he used a novelty Homer Simpson bottle opener to crack the lids on two beers, handing one to Dean and keeping one for himself.
Castiel’s flickered between them before shrugging and opening the bottle. It had been opened before, there was no telltale crackling of the seal breaking, but only a little bit had been taken. He poured himself half a glass of the syrupy concoction and held it up to his face. He gave it an assessing sniff before screwing his nose up at the overly sweet smell of it. Sipping at it gingerly, he found the taste to be palatable though extremely sweet. He thought idly that it would be more suited to Gabriel’s taste than his, sweet-toothed as the archangel always was.
“Yessss, that’s a good angel! Drink up. We’re commiserating. How we three devilishly handsome men have all found ourselves without the company of ladies on this most romantic of days is beyond me.” Dean announced and held his drink up in a cheers. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you two.”
He clicked the bottle against Sam’s and more gently knocked Cas’s glass as well. It was vintage, and he didn’t want to break it. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and drank half of it in one fell swoop, detaching it from his lips with a dramatic “ahhh” and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Cas observed this with a neutral gaze before following suit and chugging his entire glass back.
“Atta boy!” Dean praised, while Sam smiled and shook his head.
Over the course of several hours and many bottles of beer on both of their accounts, they had switched to whiskey after Sam complained the beer was making him piss like a racehorse every 5 minutes. The two human men were thoroughly soused and telling each other drunken stories of Valentine’s Day past. Cas sipped his 2nd bottle of spirits, a vanilla-flavoured vodka, and watched them in amusement. He almost wished he were human again so he could join the brothers in their merriment, but he settled for just being in their orbit. They so rarely got to slow down and celebrate so when they did, their glee was intoxicating all on its own.
“And THEN she threw the gas station roses right back at me! Nailed me right in the face and a thorn scratched me over the cheekbone.” Sam ran a blunt fingernail over his right cheek, indicating where the cut had been.
Sam was recalling a time in the 7th grade where he had had a crush on a girl in his history class and tried to surprise her with roses on Valentine’s Day. He had left them by her locker but had neglected to sign the card. She had assumed it was another boy in their class, so when Sam had corrected her assumption, she made a disgusted face and threw the flowers at him.
Dean found him crying under the bleachers and sat with him while he disinfected the cut on his face and told Sam that the girl was a bitch anyway and she didn’t deserve his flowers.
“I remember that! You cried like a baby.” Dean laughed.
“Did not!” Sam argued, even though he had.
“Did too! I could barely hold back my laughter the entire time. As soon as you left, I fell on my ass and rolled on the floor laughing. One of my best Valentine’s Day ever!”
“Only one of? What was the best one?” Cas asked politely.
“Probably the one where he got the most tail. Unattached Drifter Christmas he calls it.” Laughed Sam as he clapped Dean on the back.
“No! You’re wrong. My favourite ever Valentine’s Day was when I was 10, and you were 6. We were at Bobby’s and I was upset cause this girl I liked rejected me and tore the card I made for her. Little 6-year-old Sammy decided he would fix this and begged Bobby to let him use his good coloured pencils, the ones that used to be Karen’s, remember? Well, he spent hours making me a little card with hearts all over it. You said I didn’t need to be sad because you would be my Valentine. I told you that only people who loved you could be your Valentine and you clearly had no idea what the difference was. You stamped your little foot and demanded that you love me more than anything in the world and that you were my Valentine whether I liked it or not.” Dean sounded almost delirious as he laughed his way through this story, wiping tears from his eyes.
“I did not!” Sam protested, equally amused.
“You did! Bobby thought it was hilarious but didn’t have the heart to correct you.”
“So that explains why you never really got into Valentine's Day. You peaked early, no one could ever compare to me!” Sam tackled his brother into a hug on the floor and planted a big wet kiss onto his temple with a ‘mwah’.
“Get off me, you bitch!” Dean squirmed in embarrassment, not looking Cas in the eye.
Cas merely sat and watched the exchange with a smile. It was nice to see them reminisce about pleasant times in their childhood, full of pain and heartache as it was.
“Cas! Help me.” Dean cried as he struggled against a drunken Sam’s weight.
Rolling his eyes, Cas loosened Sam’s grip before placing two hands under his armpits and hauling him up to drop him on the other side of the couch like a disobedient toddler.
“Wow, Cas, I forget sometimes that you’re like super strong. You’re just this little guy and I forget you’re a literal angel.” Sam babbled as he sank back into the couch. “Hey Dean, if that was your favourite Valentine's, what was your least favourite?” He enquired.
Dean stuck his head up from where he was sprawled out on the floor and felt around the coffee table for the half-drunk bottle of whiskey. He was way off target, so Cas helpfully pushed it into the searching hand. Taking a swig and a deep breath, a drunk smile broke out on his face.
“YOU had just left for Stanford the year before. Dad and I had just finished a case. A ghost who murdered couples on Valentine’s Day by burning them alive. Well, that certainly triggered him a bit, didn’t it?” Dean laughed as if it was hilarious, but the smile had dropped off Sam’s face.
“He disappeared for hours. I went all over town looking for him and found him half passed out in a bar. He took a swing at me when I took the car keys, but your aim ain’t so good when you’re 18 drinks deep. I hauled him out and put his drunk ass to bed. I’ll never forget what he told me.
‘Son. Let me give you some advice. Never fall in love.’” Dean said in a scarily accurate impression of their father’s drunken voice.
“‘Your mother was the girl of my dreams. The most beautiful woman I had seen in my entire life. I loved her more than anything.’ He said.
‘Son, I’m telling you this because life can do terrible things. When she was taken from me, it was the greatest pain I have ever felt. Dean, don’t fall in love. If you’re given the choice, then I am begging you, choose to walk away, don’t let it get you. I can’t bear to see the same happen to you. We Winchester men are cursed in love.’ He was holding my arm so hard it bruised.” The laugh was beginning to die down in Dean’s voice as he slurred slightly through his telling.
“He was right, you know. We are cursed. Everyone I have ever let myself love has met some fucking tragic end. Just look at our lives Sammy, Jess, Sarah, Maddie? I fucking hope Eileen bucks the trend. But me, Sammy? I can’t do it again. Dad was right.” Dean lay flat on his back on the floor, whisky bottle loosely grasped in his hand, thankfully with the lid on.
“Oh, Dean..” Sam said sadly.
“What? It’s no big deal. I have had enough pain in my life. If holding what I want at arm's length prevents more, then so be it.” Cas could swear on the gates of heaven that Dean’s eyes flicked to him but he must have been more affected by the drink than he realised.
“No! We will fix this! When Eileen gets back, we can ask her to set you up with some hot hunter chick. You can’t give up on love, Dean.” Sam’s voice wobbled a little.
“You always were a sappy fuck.” Dean laughed.
“Hey!” Sam stood out in outrage but immediately stumbled forward. Lightning fast, Cas steadied him before he cracked his head open on the table.
“I think you’ve had enough, Sam,” Cas said in a low voice.
“Yeahhhhh, I think so. We WILL be talking about this in the morning.” He levelled an accusing finger at Dean, who was too busy staring at the roof to notice. “I need my bed, I think.” He added and tried to take a step towards the door.
He fell back into the couch with a huff. Cas rolled his eyes and put Sam’s arm over his shoulder. The angel helped Sam to his room, listening to him mutter laments about how sad Dean must be and how much he hated his father for fucking Dean up like that. Cas quietly agreed that John Winchester was, quote, ‘a real mean bastard’, unquote.
He returned to the Dean-cave to find the man himself in the same position as he left him, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. He squatted down to run his eyes over Dean, trench coat flowing behind him. Breathing steady, liver function normal, no signs of alcohol poisoning, just a very drunk man on his way to a very big hangover.
“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas asked in a low voice.
“Yeah,” Dean replied in a choked voice.
“Do you need help getting to bed?” Cas asked and Dean shook his head adamantly.
Cas made to stand but Dean shot a hand out and grasped his arm.
“Sit with me.” He slurred.
Cas resisted the urge to correct the man and tell him he was not, in fact, sitting but instead was lying down, but he refrained. He swivelled to sit down before shuffling to lie next to Dean and staring at, presumably, the same spot on the ceiling. They lay in silence for a while and Cas just listened to Dean breathe.
“Do you think he was right?” Dean whispered.
Cas turned his face to look at Dean’s side profile.
“Do I think who was right?”
“My dad.”
“Almost certainly not. But what specifically are you asking me about?” He fought to keep the irritation out of his voice.
If John Winchester were still alive, he would have him answer for his crimes. Cas had contemplated visiting the man in Heaven just to punch him in the face for his poor excuse for fatherhood. Now that he was unwelcome in Heaven, he suspected he would never get the opportunity but he still cursed the man’s name whenever he had the chance.
“That Winchester men are cursed in love. That I should avoid love at all costs. Do angels even love?”
“Not generally. They don’t have ‘the parts’, as you’ve said before.” Cas explained.
Dean paused to consider this. “‘They’, you said. Not ‘we’ or ‘I’.”
“Yes, I have always been a little bit different, Dean.” He replied slowly.
“So you…. You’ve been in love? Or are you in love?” Dean fought to keep his voice from cracking.
“Yes.” Dean wanted to strangle him over the lack of elaboration.
“Huh. Who’s the lucky Lady?”
Cas gave a small laugh. “What’s so funny?” Dean protested.
“Nothing. It matters not, Dean, whether I am capable of love or not. You are full to the brim with love. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. To deny yourself romantic love because of the drunken ramblings of a broken man is ludicrous.” Cas spat out at the mention of Dean’s father. “Forgive me, Dean, but your father was a miserable alcoholic bastard who mistreated both you and your brother, and your mother would be ashamed at the man he became.”
When Dean did not respond, Cas continued. “If there is one thing I have learned in my time on earth, it is that love cannot simply be ignored or denied. It persists in the face of all odds. Pushing it down is not healthy, Dean. If you find someone who loves you back, you must grasp it with both hands.”
“When did you get so philosophical?” Dean asked.
“I watched over all the great Philosophers. Aristotle had some very interesting ideas about beans.”
“So, you’re saying I should just go for it?” Dean asked in a voice so small that Cas almost couldn’t hear it.
“Whether you wish to find a romantic partner or not is up to you, Dean. I only advise that you stop allowing yourself to be afraid of it.”
Dean rolled to the side, looking into Cas’s face for the first time since he had joined him on the floor.
“Well, what about you? I don’t see any cute lady angel in that bed of yours. What gives?”
Cas cringed a little, he had hoped Dean was too drunk to continue the line of questioning about his supposed love interest.
“My feelings are…. not returned.” He said slowly to prevent himself from giving anything away.
“Well, why not? You’re a total catch! Any girl would be lucky to have you.” Dean insisted and thumped Cas’s chest with his hand. “Maybe I can help!”
“I doubt that.”
“Hey! I’m a great wingman! Well, fuck her, whoever she is, if she don’t want you, we can get you someone better.”
“In the entirety of my very long life, I have only ever loved one person, Dean. There is no one else for me.” He sighed.
“Geez. Aren’t we a couple of miserable bastards? I push away all possibilities of getting close to someone and you’ve been rejected by the only girl you have or will ever love. Sammy better keep Eileen happy or we’ll both get old and die alone in this godforsaken hole in the ground.”
“You won’t die alone, Dean. I will be there. Hopefully, by that time, I will have mended my relationship with heaven and they will let me visit you.”
Dean snorted darkly. “I’m not going to heaven, Cas.”
“Maybe not. But I pulled you out of hell once, I can do it again. I will not let you rot in that vile pit, even if it kills me.” He said with such finality that Dean could not argue.
"Hey, Cas? Don't smite me, okay?"
Cas turned to face the other man in confusion. "What do you me-"
He was cut off by Dean messily pressing his mouth to his. He tasted like alcohol and chocolate and Cas was intoxicated by the flavour. Dean pulled back before he could really register what was happening.
"Fuck. FUCK! I'm so sorry, man. I'm drunk and you were talking about love and I thought that you might.... never mind. I'm gonna go drown myself in the lake now." His cheeks burned with embarrassment and Cas just stared at him with wide eyes.
Lightning fast, Cas grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back down to the floor, throwing a leg over him and sitting at the very top of his thighs. Castiel's eyes glowed faintly blue and his expression was stormy.
"I said I was sorry, okay!" Dean protested.
“Did you only kiss me because you’re lonely, drunk, and miserable?” Cas asked angrily, fingers digging harshly into Dean’s chest.
“Yes. I’m just drunk, man.” He lied.
“Tell the truth!” Cas growled.
“Ughh, no, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I wanted to kiss you, so I did. I don’t think I deserve to get smote for that. Back off the glowy eyes!” Dean growled back, wriggling in the angel's grip to escape.
Cas grabbed onto his jaw forcefully, stilling his movements and forcing him to hold his gaze. Dean’s mouth opened slightly at the force, pink tongue peaking out over his bottom lip. The glowing blue of Cas’s eyes had not diminished; he looked every inch the heavenly warrior that Dean knew him to be.
“You wanted to?” Cas said in a rough voice.
Dean could only nod weakly. He closed his eyes and braced for impact with a wince. He didn’t think that Cas would actually kill him over the sin of a drunken kiss, but he might hit him. The feeling of rough lips on his took him by surprise. He couldn’t move much with the iron grip on his jaw, so he had no choice but to let himself be kissed. The angel kissed him like he owned him, and Dean idly wondered if he’d learned this from the pizza man too. His lungs were burning from lack of air, he pushed lightly on the angel's chest, causing him to wrench off of Dean’s mouth with an intense stare. Dean was gasping, both from the air deprivation and the intensity of the kiss.
“What about- you said- you are in love, Cas. You can’t just slum it with me.” He wanted Cas to be happy more than he wanted him for himself, but only marginally.
“Dean, are you being deliberately obtuse?”
“I barely know what that means.”
“Do not feign lack of intelligence with me, I know you better than that.” Cas snapped back. He looked down at him like he was a puzzle to be solved, eyes searching his for answers. “You are confused. You think yourself unworthy. Dean, there is no one else. I am in love with you. I have been in love with you since I first knew I could feel the emotion.”
“You’re an angel and I’m just the mud monkey who pulled you down into the dirt with me. You can’t love me. I’m cursed.” Tears welled in Dean’s eyes.
Everything he wanted was in front of him. Cas was in love with him, had kissed him, but still he found himself afraid.
“Your father was right, Dean, life can do terrible things. But he was wrong to tell you not to love. Our lives have been full of pain and misery, yet love persists despite it. I would have you, if you would let me.” Cas bent and kissed Dean sweetly as tears fell from the man’s eyes. “And, Dean?”
“Yeah, Cas?” He whispered into the gap between their lips.
“I would rather have you, cursed or not.”
“Fuck!” It came out as an almost panicked, broken whimper. “Let me up, let me up!” He struggled against Cas’s weight on his chest.
Cas tilted a confused head at him but let him up, stepping away to allow Dean to scramble up with a sway, clearly still heavily under the influence of drink. He staggered out of the door and down the corridor before leaning heavily on the banisters to trudge up the stairs to the outside door. He hadn’t banished Cas or dismissed him, so the angel followed behind to ensure he didn’t crack his head open on the stairs.
Dean pushed the door open into the cold February night, fumbling like a newborn foal until he came to a crash in the grass outside the bunker. On his knees, he steadied himself on his hand before he looked up at the sky.
“You hear that, you fucking bastard? I’m loved!” He screamed at the sky. “Cursed or not!” He repeated.
Taking several deep, wet-sounding breaths, he continued, “I’m sorry you lost mom. But my life is not your life. I am allowed to love! Are you LISTENING?”
“Dean.” Cas’s voice made him jump. “You will freeze out here.”
A warm layer covered Dean’s shoulders over his thin t-shirt. He looked down to see that Cas had draped his trenchcoat over him. Head whipping around to look at the angel with shining eyes, he took a ragged breath in.
“I love you. Fucking hell, Cas, I love you.” He wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist as he knelt in the grass. He felt a hand running soothingly through his hair.
“You are intoxicated and upset. I think it is time for bed, Dean.”
Dean only nodded weakly and allowed Cas to pull him upright. They walked back to the bunker and through its maze-like halls in silence. Coming to Dean’s bedroom door, he wrapped a hand around the angel’s wrist.
“Stay.” He demanded, pulling him into his room.
“As you wish.”
Dean clumsily undressed himself, though Cas had to help him put his pyjamas on so he didn’t fall over while stepping into his pants. He flopped down on the bed on his back with his knees bent and peered at Cas, who was standing at the edge of his bed. Parting his knees slightly, he did his best to project a seductive aura.
“Not gonna join me?” He slurred, voice still raspy from crying.
Castiel rolled his eyes and sat on the bed next to him, pushing Dean’s legs closed with a forceful but not painful shove.
“Sleep.” He instructed.
“You love me, but you don’t wanna fuck me?” Dean sounded almost hurt.
“You have consumed too much alcohol. You may not even remember this conversation in the morning.” Cas replied deadpan.
Dean pouted but conceded he might be right and wriggled down under his thick blankets, bringing them right up to his chin.
“Cas, can I tell you a wonderful thing?” He whispered into the darkness, barely able to make out the angel’s outline. He heard a hum in reply.
“I think you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean.” He heard Cas reply with a telltale smile in his voice.