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Dean sighs as he flips through the pages of the heavy book in his lap. It’s written in ancient Greek, which he can’t read, but he knows the words he’s looking for. He thinks. He hasn’t found them yet, he keeps getting distracted by the illustrations in the margins. He can’t help but to run his fingers over them, tracing the lines. They remind him of all the old books Sam used to pour over when they were kids and staying with Bobby. Dean always preferred Bobby’s decades old comic magazines. The comics always had hopeful endings where real life didn’t.
“How’s your reading going?” Castiel asks from across the table. Dean holds up the book.
“Awesome. This one’s in ancient Greek.”
Castiel rolls his eyes, and motions for them to switch.
“Well, this one is in English.”
Dean shrugs again, trying to fight off the embarrassment creeping up. He’s been doing this since he was six: reading over his level. Just because it’s not what he prefers doesn’t mean he can’t do it. Like he said: he knows what he’s looking for.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“But you-”
“Yeah, but how am I gonna learn ancient Greek if I don’t read it?”
“I don’t think that-”
“I do. Language immersion, man. Exposure and shit. That’s how you learn.”
Castiel just tilts his head at him.
“That would require-”
“ Fine , whatever, let’s switch”, he interrupts. “If you wanna read it so bad, be my guest.”
They slide their respective books across the table, pure business. Dean pretends to study the copy of Apollodorus before nodding solemnly, reaching out a hand so they can shake on the transaction. Castiel eyes him suspiciously. “Dude, come on, just shake my hand”. Castiel, missing the mark by about a mile, takes his hand gently in both of his. The embarrassment flushing Dean’s cheeks turns into something else. “Whatever.” He pulls his hand away, and he kind of wants to rub it against his thigh to get rid of the ghost feeling of Castiel’s touch.
After skimming a few chapters of his new book, Dean begrudgingly admits that this is slightly more productive.
“Guys, you’re never gonna believe this!” Sam suddenly says from across the motel room. He angles his laptop around, jolting the papers he’s got spread out around him on the bed. “Do you remember the case we worked in Missouri, with the possessed truck? And your old girlfriend?”
Dean starts coughing.
Castiel slowly shuts his book.
“The what case?”
Sam, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort, dives straight into a retelling of, well. One of the more messed up hunts they’ve been on.
“So the truck was going after African Americans, right? Well, guess what’s happening right now in Chattanooga? No, wait. Don’t guess.”
Dean’s looking suspiciously at Sam. Castiel is staring intensely at Dean. Dean ignores him.
“Are you saying,” Dean starts, despite not wanting to.
“ No . No. I mean, two of the victims were white, but they were gay . All of them.”
Dean can’t help the little giggle that escapes him. Castiel has added a head tilt to the neverending staring. Sam rolls his eyes. “Oh, grow up, Dean. Four people have been run over by a truck which then disappeared without a trace. Two gay men, one lesbian. The fourth man was in a relationship with a woman at the time, but I think he still fits the pattern. I did some digging, and he was open about his orientation -- he had pictures from last year’s New York Pride. He was in the march holding a sign.”
“Yeah? What did it say?”
“ I’m bifurious ”.
Dean chokes on another giggle.
“I was unaware of such an orientation”, Castiel says with another little frown.
“No, uh. It’s a play on words. It’s, he, probably bi. Bisexual”, Dean explains, wishing he wouldn’t stumble on his words so much. “And then there’s. Bicurious? You know when you, uh.” His throat is suddenly uncomfortably dry. “Wanna try. I mean. Curious about, about all genders. Dating.” He has no idea where he’s going with this. Castiel nods like he understands anyway.
“And that angered him”, he concludes. “Too many possible choices. That is understandable. I would be furious too.”
Sam chuckles.
“Yeah, totally. But I think it’s more about the struggles bisexuals face, actually. How they aren’t accepted or taken seriously by either gay or straight people. How their sexuality is dismissed as a phase, or them being greedy, or just promiscuous.”
Dean can’t explain why he’s desperate to change the subject, he just knows that he is.
“So anyway, he fit the pattern, he died because he was. He was into dudes, sometimes, too. As well as women.” He’s still uncomfortably on topic, so he clears his throat and tries to keep going. “Ahem. So you’re saying somehow there’s another vengeful spirit possessing a vehicle? Targeting a… a certain group of people?”
“I know how it sounds, but yeah. That’s what I think. We should head out there.”
“Wait. What about the chimera?”
Sam sighs.
“We don’t know for sure that’s what it is. Besides, Bobby already said he’s got it covered.”
“ Yeah , but…” Once again, he has no idea how he’s going to finish his sentence. He’s got a feeling ‘I’d rather stay here and learn ancient Greek than go after a homophobic truck’ won’t go over well with Sam. It doesn’t really go over well with himself, either. “I feel bad leaving all the Greek to him”, he settles on.
Sam gives him a weird look.
“Dude, Bobby actually knows Greek. You don’t.”
Dean slams the book down on the table, exasperated.
“And thanks to you two I never will!”
---
“Dean, can you please be normal about this?”
Dean continues to inspect his reflection in the bathroom mirror, tugging at his tie in frustration. It hasn’t even been a minute since Castiel went out to pick up food, which leads Dean to think Sam’s just been waiting to catch him alone to do this. Damn it.
“I’m normal”, he mutters.
“No, you’re being weird, and it’s insulting. They’re just people , Dean. You don’t need to tell them it’s okay to be gay.”
“But it is!” he protests. “It’s totally okay.”
“Not when they’re being murdered by a homicidal truck for it!”
Dean turns around to face Sam.
“Are you saying it’s not okay to be gay, Sam? What kind of an ally are you?”
“A better one than you! And you know that’s not what I meant. I’m begging you, if you don’t know what to say around Lila when we get to her place, just don’t say anything at all. Jesus, Dean. I know dad used to spew all kinds of casually homophobic shit, but I didn’t actually think you’d listen to it.”
The words make Dean’s insides go cold, and he resolutely starts fiddling with the top button on his suit jacket, trying to change the way it’s buttoned. There is only one way.
“I’m okay with it, Sammy”, he says, forcing himself to sound serious. Because he is. He is! They just… unnerv him, with their… the way they just. Put themselves out there. Telling complete strangers they’re into people of the same gender. Being proud of it. They’re with the person they love, and they’re proud of it. Openly in love, and they seem so… untouchable, somehow. The ghost touch from last night is back, closing over his right hand and wow, he’s not thinking about that . “I know I was a dick to those people. If I see them again, I’ll apologize.”
Sam just looks at him, leaning at the door frame.
“I know you’re not actually homophobic, Dean.”
“Well, good.”
“I mean, you’re okay with Cas.”
“ What? ” Dean pushes the button so forcefully through the hole it breaks free from the thread and flies straight across the bathroom. “Shit!”
“Yeah? He’s… well, he’s LGBT, isn’t he?”
“Why, why”, Dean stutters, “why would you say that?”
Sam shrugs.
“I don’t know? I just assumed. Have you ever seen him look at a girl?”
Dean laughs uncomfortably despite himself.
“Uh, no , but.” But.
“At first I thought he was aspec, you know.” Dean doesn’t, actually, but he can’t really get his mouth to work properly. Or his brain, for that matter. It’s empty in there. “But he checks guys out all the time. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. And I thought, no, I knew we were both cool with that.”
“Good for him”, Dean says and goes to look for his lost button. Black, like the floor tiles, which is awesome, makes his job so much easier.
“I can’t believe you didn’t know”, Sam says. “When I said we needed to drive out to the 151 tonight and lure the truck out, who did you think was going to be the bait if we were all straight?”
“I don’t know!” Dean yells. “I don’t fucking know, okay, shit always come for us, and half the time we don’t even have to go looking. That was the least of my worries. We still need to figure out how to kill the goddamn thing. As far as I know, the 151 doesn’t have any conveniently located hallowed ground.”
“We’ll think of something”, Sam says dismissively and taps his shoulder with the button in his hand. “Fix this, by the way, I don’t want to pay for that suit.”
Dean grumbles and goes to his duffel bag for his sewing kit. With a day this good, the night’s only gonna get better, because that’s how it always fucking goes.
--
“That woman was very helpful”, Castiel comments as they wait in the car for Sam to get the last of the letters from Lila’s insane, jealous, heterosexual neighbour (also dead, also one hundred percent their vengeful spirit).
Also the reason Lila’s girlfriend is dead.
“Yeah, at least now we know who we’re up against”, Dean agrees. “Poor girl. Man, straight men can be dicks .”
Castiel snorts softly, and Dean realizes he may have accidentally created the perfect segway into… a topic they maybe should talk about. Does Cas even want to talk about it? If he did, he would have said something by now, right? If he doesn’t want to come out, that’s his business, and Dean shouldn’t be prodding. He decides not to say anything.
“Not all of them”, Castiel says diplomatically.
He thinks of Sam.
“Yeah, no. You’re right.”
“Did you and Sam fight?”
The question takes Dean by surprise, a little. He didn’t think it had been noticeable.
“Kinda.”
Castiel leans forward in the backseat, and Dean glances at him over his shoulder.
“What was it about?”
“Nothing. Dumb stuff. We’re good.”
“If you want a break from this case, I could… pretend that Bobby called, or prayed. For your help, specifically. With reading Ancient Greek.”
Dean rolls his eyes, but the grin is there before he can stop it.
“Shut up.” When he peeks over his shoulder again, he can see that Castiel is smiling, too.
“Can’t a guy just want to learn a new language?”
“Technically, it’s an old language.”
“Screw you.”
--
So the victims had been in their cars when the truck ran them off the road, but Dean refuses to have the homophobic truck so much as honk at Baby, which is how they find themselves in a hotwired Nissan Micra later that night. They’re parked on the side of the road, surrounded by nothing but darkness. Occasionally, a fully normal car drives by. Sam’s got a flashlight in his mouth and is wrangling a map that’s folded out at least four times more than necessary.
“Hewe!” he says triumphantly. “His woad.” He holds up a small section of the map and angles the flashlight so it shines at a smaller road, a couple of hundred meters north of where they’re parked. “Wext weft.”
“A-wight”, Dean mutters, and heads up to Murder Road. Castiel is quiet in the backseat, and Dean is anxiously wondering wether, in all his scheming, Sam remembered to actually tell Cas he was going to be used as bait. He is not so sure.
“Uhm, Cas?” he says as he turns on the engine. “There’s something we should probably talk about…” The second they pull out on the road, an unnaturally loud roar echoes down the road. Shit . Dean doesn’t look back, just accelerates and races down the road, trying to get to the next left before the truck can catch up with them. They probably should be wearing seatbelts. Castiel’s hand is gripping the backrest close to Dean’s neck, holding on for dear life, and Sam’s flashlight falls to the floor as he fights the roadmap.
“Dean, there! Turn!” It’s a smaller road, hopefully less trafficked. With only darkness ahead, Dean drives a couple of hundred meters before coming to a stop. The truck is gone. They sit in complete silence for a few minutes, listening for another engine, but all Dean can hear is the thudding of his own heartbeat.
“Should we get out?” Sam asks, insane. “Come on, the shotguns.” He’s out before Dean has a chance to react.
“Are you okay?” Castiel asks. His hand is still very close to Dean’s neck, but he’s not thinking about that.
“Yeah, you?”
“Yes. What were you saying earlier?”
Dean opens the car door and gets out. This is not how he intended to do this.
“Nothing”, he says to the angel who’s following him out, confused. He grabs the shotgun Sam has already dug out from the trunk, and occupies himself by loading it full of rock salt. He feels like he’s about to go up against a dragon with a glass of water, or something. A violently homophobic dragon. Who can smell gay thoughts. God, he’s fucked.
They load their weapons, Sam spray paints a pentagram on the road, and Dean wonders how that’s supposed to help. Whatever, he’s the guy with the plan.
And then they wait.
“Maybe he only shows up at midnight”, Castiel suggests, when Dean checks the time on his phone for the thirty-sixth time that hour.
“No, Ben and Ricky were killed at 2:15, remember? But it’s weird, the truck came out, yeah? That was definitely the truck chasing us?”
“What the hell else could it have been?” Dean asks.
“Right, but where did it go? ” Sam counters. “I mean, it reacted earlier, but it didn’t straight up run us over, so I don’t know if he was provoked enough.”
“Wait”, Dean says. “What do you mean it reacted? ” His heart is pounding uncomfortably hard in his chest again as he thinks back. He had been thinking about Castiel’s sexual orientation, but like. Could that have been enough? He looks around, because now he’s obviously thinking about it again , but the truck is nowhere to be seen or heard.
“I was thinking gay thoughts”, Sam admits.
That even gets a reaction out of Castiel, who’s usually pretty indifferent to Sam’s ramblings.
“I’m sorry?”
“To lure the truck out! I thought it might help!”
“Is there something you want to tell us?” Dean jokes weakly.
Castiel stares at Sam like he’s grown a second head. It’s so fucking endearing Dean’s heart stops beating for a second. He takes his free hand and presses it down over his chest, willing his heart to behave, for Christ’s sake.
And just like that, the roaring is back. They fly to their feet, shotguns raised in one synchronized move, but the truck doesn’t advance. It preys on them from a hundred meters away, but it doesn’t move. For minutes, they’re all stuck like that, unmoving.
“I guess that proves my point”, Sam mumbles. “Just thinking about kissing a dude wasn’t enough”. He’s so fucking matter-of-fact about it. Dean’s body is filled to the brim with anxiety that doesn’t have anything to do with the murderous truck out to turn them into pancakes. “Two of us have to do something gay, okay?”
For the case , Dean thinks. We have to. For the case . “So, Cas, uh. What do you say?” There’s a sharp twinge in Dean’s chest. Castiel doesn’t say anything. He’s not even looking at Sam, his eyes are on Dean like he’s trying to read his mind, and he looks so… so… Dean feels trapped, and floaty, and like he’s about to vibrate out of his own body. His eyes fall to Castiel’s mouth. For the case. We have to. The truck is revving its engine and Dean’s life flashes before his eyes.
“Damn it, let’s just--”
He leans in. Just a quick one. Just mouths touching, while he still has the-- Dean holds his breath and Castiel leans up and meets him halfway, and in this moment he’s so fucking stressed out but Castiel kisses him softly, like he wants to. Like he wants Dean to feel good instead of terrified and Dean is so nervous and desperate to reciprocate because if anyone deserves to feel good it’s Cas , who’s just so--
His hand is coming up to rest on the angels’ shoulder when Sam’s yelling interrupts them.
“ Get ready! ”
They fly apart, and Dean’s heart is in his throat. There’s a pair of ghost lips on his and his mind is spinning, but he can pump a shotgun and aim it at a monster in his sleep and that’s what he does. His hands are shaking, but he shoots and shoots until the ringing in his ears has more to do with the shots and less to do with Castiel’s face so close and the taste of his lips and the way it almost felt like he wasn’t ready to let go either.
---
It haunts him more than the bigoted truck does. When he wakes up after a couple of hours of sleep, the feeling is still there: Castiel’s mouth on his, his stubble against Dean’s cheek, the intimate way in which he kept leaning in and leaning in and leaning in and Dean groans into his pillow. But quietly, because he’s sharing the room with Sam. He wonders where Cas is. Waking up and having Cas already there is always more fun, and despite the fact that he never sleeps, Dean can usually make him stick around and be awake in their room instead of somewhere else. Because… it makes sense, if they’re on a case together, to actually be on the case together. But sometimes he can’t, or he won’t. They didn’t even discuss it last night, Cas just said he’d be back in the morning and flew off before Dean could say a word.
Cas? he prays, and that gets his heartbeat going, something he chooses to ignore. You awake? Hah. I know you are. Me too. I mean, I am awake, I’m not up yet or anything. But I’ll be up soon. So… come over. Unless… unless you want a break from this case, which would be okay. I’d totally understand. His heart is sinking at the thought. Honestly, we don’t even have to talk about yesterday. Let’s pretend like it never-- and then there’s a whooshing sound, and Dean almost falls out of his bed.
“Hello, Dean”.
“Dude”, he hisses, glancing over at Sam to make sure he’s still asleep. “Hey. I mean--”
“I can come back later”, Castiel says, looking tense. “You’re not even dressed.”
Dean, red in the face, pulls the blanket over his bare legs.
“I told you I wasn’t up yet!”
“I don’t mind.”
“I do!” He leaves the bed to go find his jeans, still speaking in a hushed voice. “So you’re still on the case, then?”
“You need all the help you can get”, Castiel replies dryly, and, well. He’s not wrong. Last night was a failure of epic proportions. They barely made it off that road alive, and that’s still more than could be said about the poor Nissan Micra. It truly was all for nothing, and it bothers Dean to no end.
“Guess so.” It’s not like they were in the mood to strategize when they finally got back to the motel room at four in the morning, but hey, at least now they know how to summon the damn thing. Cas is right, they need him for that, because Dean worries he would rather let the truck keep killing innocents than kiss his own brother. Just the thought makes him shudder. “Dunno what we’re doing until midnight, though, but… yeah. We need a new plan, I guess. You don’t have to stick around for that part, if you don’t want to…”
“Do you not want me to be here?” Castiel asks quietly and no , that’s not what Dean meant.
“No! I mean yes! I mean I just prayed so you’d get here! But I’m just saying, if you don’t want to be here--”
“I do ”.
“Great!”
“Great”, Castiel echoes. They stare at each other, and the buzzing is back. There’s anxiety under every inch of his skin and he needs to do something.
“Sam!” he blurts out, loudly. “Wake up! We have a homophobic truck to kill.”
---
“Cas, do you mind waiting in the car for a sec? I wanna talk to Dean about something.”
“Of course, Sam.” Dean considers simply not getting out of the car. What is Sam going to do, forcibly drag him out? Actually, he might do that. And Dean is not about to wrestle his brother while still inside the car. He likes to think they’re past that.
“What?” he asks irritably, shutting the car door behind him. Sam nods at the rolled down windows and starts walking away, until they’re out of earshot of, well, a normal person. Dean’s pretty sure Castiel has super hearing and that this is completely pointless.
“You have got to cool it with the homophobia!” he says exasperatedly. “So what, you kissed a guy? Doesn’t make you gay, Dean!”
Dean turns on his heel, already on his way back to the car.
“Dean!”
“ What? What, Sam? How is any of this your business? Maybe I am a homophobe after all, huh? You ever think of that?” The words taste sour in his mouth and he hates that Cas can hear him, he hates that half the parking lot can hear him and he wants to take it back.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam hisses. As if that’s not the question Dean has been asking himself for about sixteen hours now. Something is deeply wrong with him, because as soon as he thinks about Castiel, or what happened last night, the creeping, crawling feeling inside him returns and it drives him half out of his mind. He’s having a physical reaction to kissing dudes. Ain’t that homophobia in a nutshell? But it’s unwanted, he wishes it would stop , he needs a moment to breathe, to get his thoughts straight, because it feels like he’s on the verge of something and he can’t put his finger on what . “Of course you aren’t, you’re just freaking out because you kissed Cas, and-”
“I know what happened! Why are we still talking about it?”
“-- you need to get over yourself, because it doesn’t mean anything, okay? And if we’re gonna have a chance at getting it right tonight and taking out the spirit, I need you both to get over what happened and get back to focusing on the case.”
Dean takes a few breaths, trying to control his anger, but Sam’s words are echoing in his head. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t.
“You’re right”, he grits out, at last. “It doesn’t mean anything. Let, let’s just focus on the fucking case.”
---
Castiel is uncharacteristically quiet throughout the day. Not that he’s the most talkative person in Dean’s life, but whenever they’re together conversation usually flows easily. This is different, and he hates it. Castiel answers Sam when spoken directly to, but the rest of the time he just sits in silence and it just adds to Dean’s distress. Maybe he’s fucked up this worse than he thought. They were sort-of okay this morning, but now… and Dean has no idea what he should be saying. The drive out to the 151 and Epic Fail Murder Road is perhaps the most awkward ride of Dean’s life. He can’t stop thinking about what they’re gonna do once they’re ready for Homophobic Truck, Round Two, and the more he thinks about it, the more he has to fight the urge to glance at Cas in the rearview mirror of their, uh, borrowed Volvo 740.
“I hate this”, he mutters under his breath, trying to keep his nerves in check. Jesus Christ, since when does he get nervous?
“This time it’ll work for sure”, Sam says confidently, and Dean wishes he knew what the hell Sam’s planning.
They make it to the abandoned road without drawing the attention of the truck, and Sam is out of the car before Dean has even turned the engine off. It’s the first time he’s alone with Cas since this morning, and he glances at Cas in the rearview mirror. Castiel is looking down at his lap, but makes no move to get out of the car.
“Are you okay?” Dean asks nervously. Fuck. Fuck, they’re about to use Castiel as bait again, they just keep putting this dude in dangerous situations, and on top of that Dean has to go and make everything horribly awkward, and Castiel is a difficult person to read but not to Dean, who’s awesome at reading him, and something is wrong .
“I’m fine, Dean.” A beat. “Are you?”
Dean draws a deep breath, and lets it out in a huff of unamused laughter.
“Sure. I’m fine. Let’s do this, huh?”
“Okay.”
They leave the car, and repeat the same steps they went through yesterday. They load their shotguns, Sam spray paints, Dean makes sure they’ve got enough rock salt, but the difference is that Castiel is keeping his distance. Dean wishes he would just come over and stand next to him like yesterday. And the day before that. Too close, like he usually does. He drags a hand down his face. If they get out of this alive, he’s gonna… do some soul-searching. Cure his homophobia. Whatever it takes to go back to like it was before, because he can’t deal with this.
“Alright”, Sam says once he’s finished. “No sight of the truck yet, but kissing seemed pretty effective yesterday, so…” Neither Dean nor Castiel answer him. “Well”, Sam continues, valiantly. “I’m definitely not kissing you Dean. So, uh. Cas?”
“Yes?”
Despite the stress and anxiety humming under the surface, Dean can’t help but bite back a smile, because he knows Cas, and he knows that Cas knows perfectly well what Sam is talking about. He’s playing naive.
“Can I, you know.”
“Can you what?” He even tilts his head, looking exactly like he does when he has no idea what either of them are going on about. Dean’s stomach clenches with how fucking cute it is.
That seems to do it.
The truck appears in the distance, growling at them in the night, not unlike a dragon, actually. The headlights flicker menacingly. The engine screams, but the truck stays in place.
“You know”, Sam says impatiently. “Kiss you.”
“Oh”, Castiel says. He doesn’t look thrilled, and Dean swallows hard. He knew this was coming, because even better than he knows Cas he knows himself , and he knew he’d be too much of a fucking coward to a) patch things up with Cas and b) volunteer. “Okay.”
“ No ”, Dean hears himself saying. He’s acutely aware of the shotgun in his hands and clings to it for support. “You can’t.” Sam and Castiel both look over to him, Sam exasperated, Castiel… relieved?
“What other choice do we have?” Sam asks, pained. “Let’s just get it over with, okay?” Dean can’t look, but he can’t really look away, either. Sam walks over, makes an apologetic face, and leans down to give Castiel a chaste kiss. Now this gets the buzzing going, but oh, not in a good way. Dean’s body is a vessel, and the vessel is a hive. Filled with angry bees. He gets ready to shoot - no, not his brother, the truck - but the truck remains where it is, entirely unimpressed.
“Huh”, Sam says. “That’s weird. Maybe, maybe a little more t-”
“Sam”, Castiel interrupts. “Be quiet.” His eyes are on Dean, and Dean feels so helpless.
“Cas”, he asks. Begs, even. And the angel listens, and Dean takes his right hand off the shotgun and reaches out for Castiel’s, because if he doesn’t set this straight he’s going to lose his entire goddamn mind, but before he can say anything, Cas smiles at him. He looks down at their intertwined hands, and that’s… there he is.
“Cas”, Dean says quietly. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”
“Guys”, Sam warns. The truck is on the move, but Dean is busy . Castiel is staring at him, hopefully, and he’s back in Dean’s personal space, and it’s such a relief . He’s always acted like he belongs there, and he was right. Dean smiles back, flustered, but the bee hive has dissipated and been replaced with something sweeter, softer. He just wishes they weren’t about to be run over by a truck , again . How does this keep happening? Better act fast. Castiel seems to be thinking the same thing, because he glances up at the truck coming towards them at top speed and pushes Dean off the road, out of harm’s way, and kisses him. Dean decides the shotgun is entirely redundant now, throwing it to the ground so he can better wrap his arms around Castiel as the buzzing goes from awful to pleasantly intoxicating. In the background, he can hear Sam fire away at the truck, but he figures, eh. Sam was the guy with the plan. Him and Cas would just be in the way.
“You’re not an asshole”, Cas mumbles against his cheek. “You’re just. Incomprehensible, sometimes.”
“Sorry about that”, Dean answers, and he can’t stop grinning, which makes it difficult to kiss Cas, but, y’know. It’s not like that’s going to stop him. The floaty feeling is back; he feels lighter than air, dizzy in the best way. Cas has a firm grip on his midsection and kisses him like there is nothing more important they could be doing. “I, I don’t think I’m homophobic”, Dean continues. Cas snorts, and leans in to press his mouth to Dean’s chin, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
“Good.”
“And no matter what Sam says, it is okay to be gay”. Castiel moves his hands up to cup Dean’s face, maybe to be able to kiss him better. Maybe to get him to stop talking. Dean barrels on, because he’s having a revelation here. This is not a mental breakdown, it’s a mental breakthrough. “Cas, you know that, right?” Dean feels behind himself, blindly, and backs until they’ve reached the tree he guesses Cas was aiming for.
“I do, Dean.” More gunshots, more of the stupid truck growling in the background, but all Dean can focus on is Castiel pushing him against the tree. And thank god for that, because his legs are about to give out. He tries to remember what he was going to say next, but Cas licks into his mouth and it sets fire to the electricity crackling under his skin.
“Oh, shit.” He kisses Cas until he’s out of breath, until he has to lean back for air, but Cas just takes that as an invitation to keep kissing his jaw, lower, his throat, his neck and Dean is once again driven out of his mind, this time for completely different reasons. “I’m not gay though”, he says regardless, and Castiel groans.
“Do you ever shut up?”
“No, and you should, ah, you should know that by now”, Dean says, swallowing hard as Castiel keeps sucking kisses to his neck. “I’m bi, God , Cas--”
“Hmm”, Cas says. “All three?”
“ Shut up .” Dean would shove him if he wasn’t so desperate to get him even closer. “Come here.” Cas eyes on him are so fond. He blushes, and kisses him, slowing them down, because in the back of his mind he remembers that his brother is out there somewhere. Still shouting, firing, probably doing fine, but still. They should reel it in.
“No, what I was saying was”, Dean says against Cas’s mouth. “That I’m bi. The truck proved it, right?”
“Bicurious?”
“No, uh.” Dean ducks his head, accepts a kiss to the cheek. In the back of his head he’s wondering why they haven’t been doing this this whole time. He leans in to press a final kiss to Cas’ lips. And then another one. It’s sort of difficult to stop. “Full on bisexual.”
Castiel is still cupping his face, with a thumb on each of his cheekbones, smiling at him.
“Good.”
--
They’re outside the motel room and it’s 3:45 in the morning. They’re all alive, even the Volvo. Dean is giddy. Castiel is beaming. Sam is… straight furious.
“I miss three hours ago when you two were homophobic”, he grumbles. “And you can get your own room.” He slams the door shut in their faces, and Dean grimaces.
“Yeah, that’s… that’s fair”, he says to the door. “It’s just that. I’ve got my stuff in there.”
Castiel frowns.
“Do you think he’s put up angel warding? Otherwise, I can just fly in.”
“Oh, yes. Do that. Grab my bag.”
Castiel is gone in the blink of an eye -- the next second, Sam is yelling from inside the room -- and before Dean can take a step towards the door, he’s back again with Dean’s duffel bag and his copy of Apollodorus.
“Thanks, dude. Wait, this the one in English? I was hoping for the other one...”
“For the last time, Dean, you don’t know Ancient Greek .”
Dean takes Cas’s hand.
“Not yet. But just you wait and see.”