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#1
Dean woke up, shoved the memory of an old Alastair nightmare into the over-capacity brain box of “deal with later” without really thinking about it, but upon remembering that Cas was back he smiled to himself before opening his eyes, rolling over on his back and groaning into a stretch.
Cas had been back for two weeks and change, and Dean wasn’t sure when it would feel permanent or if it ever would. Even now, both giddiness and anxiety warred as Dean finally rolled out of bed and grabbed his robe. Jody, Donna, and the girls had come to visit. Eileen had been in and out. Jack had stopped by from the upstairs. Thus far, Dean hadn’t had much of a chance to spend time alone with Cas other than to sit him down and make him watch the entire Friday the 13th franchise front to back, including Jason Goes to Hell, which Cas criticized for its deceptive title. Was it the most appropriate way to celebrate the homecoming of his soul mate after what he’d been sure was their final and most devastating parting? Perhaps not. But after so much grief, Dean’s mind had fizzed into overjoyed static on his return. It was the first thing he thought of.
“I suppose I imagined he would go to hell in the beginning of the film,” Cas said, studying the DVD box. “I was interested to see their depiction. I find myself disappointed.”
“Jason Takes Manhattan same thing,” Dean had said around a mouthful of popcorn. “It was mostly on a boat.”
“Yet they called the next one Jason X,” Cas said, squinting at Dean, the light of the rolling credits flickering across his face in the darkness of the Dean Cave. “Instead of Jason in Space. And that is in space.”
“Movie people,” Dean said, shaking his head.
Now the bunker was once again down to just Sam, Dean, and Cas. Not counting Miracle, who had not come to wake Dean up and he frowned as he sleepily shuffled toward the kitchen, phone in hand, not hearing the quick tapping of his dog’s nails on the floor as he chased Dean down for breakfast.
Sam was at the breakfast table, scrolling and eating something that looked suspiciously healthy.
“Whassat?” Dean croaked.
“Goji berry bowl.”
“You’re making things up now. Is there anything normal to eat?”
Sam shrugged, ignoring him.
“Where’s Cas?”
It was only for an instant that a jolt of worry hit him. But Cas would usually show up in the kitchen first, or Dean would hear him moving around, and he hadn’t heard anything. It was only for an instant, but old habits etc. Dean’s mind and heart flipped through the possibilities in no time at all. He left. He was always going to leave. The Empty has stolen him back. Jack wants Cas with him-
“He took Miracle for a walk,” Sam said, stirring his goji whatever. “He made coffee for you.”
“Knew there was a reason I liked him,” Dean mumbled, shuffling over to the coffeemaker. He glanced at his phone. No texts. Not that he should expect one. The guy was just walking the dog. That really didn’t require, like, an alert. Yet Dean kind of wished for one, what with Cas’s history of dipping.
Dean poured a large mug full of brown and took a healthy gulp before setting down across from Sam, who was giving him the look that meant he was going to talk about something serious or semi-serious, but was waiting until Dean was more awake.
Dean got halfway through his coffee before Sam finally said, “Have you talked to him?”
“‘Bout what?” Dean leaned on his hand.
“Um… About whatever’s goin’ on with you guys?”
“What’s goin’ on?” Dean muttered, hiding behind his mug. “Nothin’s goin’ on.”
“Dean.” Sam gave him a look and Dean thought he looked awfully snide for somebody with shaved coconut in their breakfast bowl. “Come on. I haven’t had the chance to bring it up with people in and out. But it’s different from the last time. You’ve been all, ya know…flustered.”
“Flus- I’m not- what- what are you talking about?” Dean sputtered. “I don’t get flustered. Why would I be flustered around Cas?”
“I dunno, probably cause of whatever it is he said before the Empty took him that you wouldn’t tell me about-”
“Sam, it is too damn early for-”
“I mean, you started to tell me like five times and then you stopped talking about it and then you got all weird and quiet like a zombie, and then you got loud and angry, and then suddenly everything was supposed to be fine. ‘Oh, let’s live for Cas like he’d want us to’ like you’d been Stepford Wifed and then you were all…” Sam affected an exaggerated impression of Dean’s voice: “‘It’s okay if this is how I go out, Sammy, I always knew I’d go out this way’ over one stupid injury like a little rebar was going to take you out so something happened that messed with your head even more than usual. And now that he’s back, you’re almost nervous around him unless there’s a horror movie on-”
“Have you ever considered shutting the hell up just once in your entire life?”
“And if you don’t know where he is for half a second, you get all jumpy-”
“I just asked where he was out of curiosity,” Dean insisted. “He’s allowed to do what he wants. He’s a grown man. Kind of.”
“Okay,” Sam said, nodding. “And what if he wants to leave, move out?”
“Oh, fuck that. He’s staying right the fuck here if I have to put a damn leash on him.”
“Yeah, maybe you should say that to his face,” Sam said, with his smuggest eyebrows. “He might like to hear that.”
“Why don’t you mind your business?”
Sam raised his hands in surrender and returned to his goji bowl and phone scrolling. Dean sipped his coffee, wondering how fucking long it could possibly take to walk the dog, and wishing for something to eat for breakfast other than oatmeal and goji berries as he mentally avoided the question of when he would get his nut up to talk to Cas for real. Not that he hadn’t imagined it a million times.
He’d really fucked himself, too.
Come back, Cas, c’mon, man. Come back and I’ll say it. I‘ll show you. I’ll show you every goddamn day if you just come back.
Like a G.I. in a foxhole promising to leave sin behind for real this time if he ever made it out of the foxhole.
Well, now Cas was back and Dean’s nut had yet to get up.
“I’m just gonna say one thing,” Sam said quietly, staring down at his now empty bowl. “You’re gonna tell me to shut up. I don’t care.”
“Sam-”
“Fuck you, lemme talk.”
Dean shut his mouth, blinking.
“Man, you’ve stopped armageddons, done time in Hell, killed Hitler, defeated God…” Sam said slowly. “All I’m saying is, if you don’t tell Cas to his face what everybody has known all this time except him just cause you’re scared to be that happy or because Dad wouldn’t approve of it, I mean, I’m gonna have to kill ya myself. You got him back again. Don’t you dare waste it.”
Dean was struck dumb, his entire body tensed. He didn’t respond to Sam because he couldn’t think of anything to say, even a denial. Sam stared at him expectantly.
“Holy shit,” Sam muttered. “You’re not even yelling. Is this progress? This has gotta be progress.”
Dean ignored him, picked up his phone and texted Cas.
Wyd?
He was out of coffee. He stood and refilled his cup from the pot, Sam staring at him the entire time as if he’d grown a second head. His phone buzzed and Dean perked up, plopping down at the table again.
Cas had texted back: I saw a squirrel.
A picture of a squirrel on a tree branch clutching an acorn popped up on Dean’s phone.
Miracle barked at the squirrel.
“I just want you to know,” Sam said, “that the face you’re making right now is insane. I’ve never even seen you smile like that.”
Dean flipped him the bird and sent a thumbs up to the picture of the squirrel.
Also saw ducks at the pond, Cas texted.
A pic of some ducks followed. Dean leaned on his hand again, smiling dreamily at the ducks. Dean texted back: Ducks are cool.
Cas responded again with a picture of a sunflower.
“Look, I’m goin’ up to see Eileen,” Sam said, rising to take his dish to the sink. “Maybe you guys should spend some time together. Maybe do one of the five thousand things you’ve mentioned you’d like to do with Cas someday?”
Dean frowned, trying to remember what filthy thing he might have said about Cas in the last twelve years while drunk on a rough night.
“What.”
“Oh, ya know,” Sam went on. “Like ‘oh, we gotta take Cas bowling, we gotta take Cas to a ballgame, we gotta take Cas to Cedar Bluff, Cas has never had a banana split’… You’ve been saying that stuff since Obama’s first term. Not that we ever actually do that stuff without Cas. But dude, we have time now.”
“Well, maybe we will go bowling,” Dean muttered. He heard the front door upstairs shut and Cas’s soft footfall along with the tapping of Miracle’s nails, his ears perking up. “And you’re not invited.”
“Okay?” Sam furrowed his brow.
“Hey ‘morning, sunshine,” Dean said as Cas swept in just as Sam swept out, tossing him a nod.
Cas was carrying a bakery box. “Good morning, Dean. I bought donuts.”
“Cas.” Dean’s eyes lit up. “You’re the best. You’re my favorite.”
“Favorite what?” Cas said, setting the box on the table as he took a seat.
Dean snagged a chocolate frosted donut and stuffed half of it in his mouth as he mumbled, “Favorite everything.” He hadn’t really intended on Cas understanding what he said, but going by the soft little smile that cropped up on Cas’s face, he’d understood it just fine.
#2
Sam had suggested he spend the day with Cas, and even if Sam was a stupid idiot who needed to shut up and worry about his own love life instead of worrying about his brother’s, Dean thought this wasn’t the worst idea in the world.
“What’re you doin’ today?” Dean went in for a third donut, attempting to ignore that Cas was again wearing his clothes as he’d taken to doing since his arrival home. Though he’d returned to life in his trenchcoat, he’d also returned human, and Dean supposed that was why he’d put away his uniform. Dean could not quite comprehend why seeing Cas out of the trenchcoat was just as attractive as seeing him back in the trenchcoat once he’d been out of it.
Cas sat across the table wearing one of Dean’s undershirts, which dipped in a V-neck, showing off collarbone. Dean had never considered the attractiveness of a collarbone before. But maybe Cas just had a particularly nice collarbone.
Cas took a bite of jelly donut. This seemed to be his favorite. He’d tried a cinnamon crumb, a bear claw, and a glazed. The bear claw he gave to Dean after one bite and neither of them were inclined towards the cinnamon crumb. But this was his second jelly.
“I have no plans,” Cas said simply.
“Let’s hang out,” Dean said, tapping the table. “New lease on life, profundity of the quotidian, bla bla bla. Anything you’d like to do? Sky’s the limit.”
Dean watched the dance of Cas’s eyebrows at his wording and the slightest little double-take at the phrase “profundity of the quotidian” (Dean could not recall where he’d learned it, he suspected Michael). “I haven’t been able to fly for a long time, Dean, and now I’m human,” Cas said. “The limit is much lower than the sky.” Dean spared him a longsuffering expression and Cas smirked.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” Dean said.
“You have no proof,” Cas quipped and sighed, sitting forward. “There is something I’ve always wanted to try…”
“Shoot.”
“A jigsaw puzzle.”
“A jigsaw puzzle.”
“A jigsaw puzzle, yes. They’re very appealing.”
“Cas, ya know, every time I think you’re going to zig, ya zag.”
“Do you know where we could get a jigsaw puzzle?”
Dean shrugged, and swallowed the last of the chocolate frosted. “Target? You don’t wanna buy one off the street, you OD that way.”
“Target is one of the big stores,” Cas said. “With the threatening logo.”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Dean said, rubbing his hands together. “Cool. We can get you some clothes of your own too while we’re at it. I’m gonna piss. Then we’ll drive out to Target.”
“Thank you for the update on your urinary activity.”
“You’re welcome, buddy.”
Castiel really loved Target, it turned out. Sam had suggested they make Dean’s new Mastercard last. But Cas kept picking things up and looking at Dean with his big, blue soulful eyes and Dean suddenly forgot the word “no” existed even as he griped about the spree.
“We have pillows,” Dean said flatly.
“This is a throw pillow,” Cas said. He held up a square pillow printed with pastel palm fronds. “Notice how it’s more decorative than the bed pillows?”
“Yeah yeah- eh, we just…” Dean shrugged. “We don’t even really have a place for throw pillows, Cas. It’s a bunker.”
“Have you considered replacing the chairs in the Dean Cave with a couch?” Cas said.
“Nobody touches the-” Dean stopped talking, an image coming to mind of he and Cas on a couch in the Dean Cave. He imagined a lap full of Castiel. No interruptions, no worries, no armageddon, no Sam being annoying, just him and Cas finally left alone to their own devices. He imagined them making out like horny teens (if he could just get his nut up), Cas finally climbing on top of him, pushing him down, biting his lip as he popped Dean’s fly, eager to blow him while looking up at him with his big, blue soulful eyes, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly on in the background.
“Dean?” Cas said, tossing the pillow in the cart.
Dean pointed at him and said, “What we need is same day delivery.”
“I need a blanket,” Cas said. “The Dean Cave occasionally runs chilly.”
“Get one of those big fleecy ones,” Dean said, and as he said so it occurred to him that if Cas was picking out so many things to make him comfy in the bunker…he probably wasn’t planning on leaving the bunker anytime soon. This sudden yet obvious epiphany made his heart rate pick up. He chewed his lip, leaning on the bar of the shopping cart, his stare trained on Cas, who had tossed a fleece blanket into the cart and was now wandering in the direction of reading lamps. Dean inched forward with the cart, pushing with his elbows. Cas had changed to go out. He was wearing a Journey t-shirt Dean had found at a flea market in Sioux Falls and an old pair of Dean’s jeans fraying at the cuffs. He was wearing Sam’s old reject Converse.
He was also wearing Dean’s amulet.
The thing had been traded back and forth so much. Dean hadn’t even wanted to look at it until long after Chuck was defeated.
Then one morning, he found it in his dresser drawer while searching for a nail clipper and put it back on. That was the morning Jack had stopped by to tell them he was finally able to rescue Castiel without pissing the Empty off so badly it took vengeance on the rest of the cosmos. Dean was so distracted by the news it was Sam who’d pointed out the amulet was glowing in Jack’s presence.
So Dean had given it back to Cas the night he returned. “I think you should have it back. Because… Well, I just want you to have it, okay?”
“No, no…” Cas said, shaking his head. “I know how important the amulet is to your family. I can’t-“
“Yeah, that’s why I’m giving it to ya, genius. You don’t take this, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”
Then he’d pressed the necklace into Cas’s hand, folding his fingers over it.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas had said with all the solemnity the moment required and Dean had just sort of left his hands there cradling Cas’s and the necklace. Dean almost forgot about being terrified to kiss him because he was just sort of falling into Cas’s eyes and Cas had only been home a few hours and Dean was still in a daze over it and Cas was alive and warm and solid… But just then Garth of all people had shown up to visit, pounding on the door.
So far, Cas had yet to take the necklace off and that was just fine, because Dean liked seeing it on him.
Cas picked up a chrome reading lamp that fit the deco style of the bunker rather well.
Are you definitely staying then? Dean wanted to say.
He should ask. He should make it clear he wanted Cas to stay. Or maybe it was now very obvious Cas was staying, and he didn’t have to say anything and he would only seem like a huge dumbass if he made a point of it. But knowing would be nice.
Cas held up the lamp, tilting his head, questioning.
“If you need a lamp…” Dean bounced on his toes, pushing the cart back and forth, gaze flitting all over the home goods section. “What you should do is get one of those lightbulbs? I mean the eco kind, the ones that they last a long time. You could…” Dean swallowed. “You could have one of those workin’ in the bunker years and years before it dies out, and after that, I’ll get you another one.”
Cas was suddenly standing very close, clutching the lamp in his hands. “You think I need a lightbulb for the bunker that lasts years and years?”
“I think we do.” Dean inhaled and feeling a little hysterical, he reached up and fidgeted with the amulet, needlessly adjusting it where it hung in the middle of Cas’s chest and the Journey logo on his shirt which, ironically, looked rather like angel’s wings. He watched Cas’s eyes grow a little bigger. “Hell, you could… we could get a lightbulb that lasts forever. Then we’d never need to replace it.”
“I don’t think that exists,” Cas murmured. “But…I want one if it does.”
“Yeah? Okay. Good. Cool. Well, I’ll keep an eye out then.” Dean grinned, drumming on the bar of the cart. “Okay! What next! Oh yeah, the friggin’ jigsaw puzzle.”
“We weren’t really talking about lightbulbs, were we?” Cas said, trailing after Dean.
“I wonder if they got something cowboy themed.”
“Because I was assuming we were not really talking about lightbulbs.”
“You wanna frappuccino or something? I feel like a frappuccino.”
“Dean?”
#3
“Do we need this many jigsaw puzzles?” Dean chewed his straw. Where were they even going to put these things together? “Are you starting a puzzle-based cult?”
He supposed they hadn’t been using the map table lately.
“It was an hour drive to this store,” Cas pointed out. He sipped his frapp as he poked around the miscellaneous puzzle options.
“Online shopping exists.” Dean grimaced at the puzzle featuring Elsa from Frozen Cas had tossed in. He returned it to the shelf and replaced it with a puzzle of the kids from Stranger Things, and yanked one featuring M&M mascots out of Cas’s hands, replacing that with Star Wars. “You could stand to be a little more selective here.”
Cas held up a 2000 piece puzzle of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night,” looking hopeful..
“Sure. Let’s be classy.” Dean gave him a thumbs up.
Cas finally narrowed his selections down to four puzzles and then tugged on the end of the cart, yanking Dean like Miracle on his leash in the direction of a shelf in a dark corner full of miscellaneous toys and collectibles.
“What now?” Dean muttered, idly playing with his phone. “Cmon, we don’t need toys. Except dog toys. That’s next.”
Cas looked up at him with a knowing smile and grabbed a box which he hid behind his back, squinting at Dean. “Are you sure?” He walked up to Dean and held up the box, looking very proud of himself.
“Hatchet Man!” Dean grabbed the box containing a collectible Hatchet Man action figure that had been hiding among the Marvel Funkos and Yoda plushies.
“It’s only eight dollars on sale,” Cas said. “And you deserve something fun, Dean.”
“You really get me, Cas,” Dean said, steadying the Hatchet Man figurine as if it were a wedding band.
“I know.” Cas wandered off in the direction of the cleaning products, sipping his Chocolate Cookie Crumble.
#4
“You don’t like it when I wear your clothes,” Cas stated. He was inspecting the racks of men’s underwear with great attention. He’d picked up some basics for himself. Cheap chinos and jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, a denim jacket, and some button-downs. Plain gray socks and a few pairs printed with giraffes.
“Buh…” Dean winced, clamping his mouth shut.
Sometimes a person could just say something so hilariously upside down it was difficult to respond coherently right away. Dean licked his lips and tried again. “Why would you say that?” Dean said.
“I thought since you suggested I get my own clothes, you meant you don’t like that I’m borrowing yours.” He’d crossed his arms. “And you give me funny looks when I wear them.”
Ah…
That explained a lot. Dean had always thought he’d been way too obvious in the way he’d looked at Cas with naked thirst, at least once he realized he was thirsty, which had taken years. Apparently, Cas had translated all that as disgust or something.
“Eh, well- fyuh…” Dean groaned, scrubbing his face. “No, man. It’s fine. Honestly, I was just thinking I have a bunch of stuff put away I never wear anymore and some stuff looks better on you, anyway. Gotta pair of harness boots I looted off a vamp nest that are too small. You should try them.”
Dean wondered if that was enough to encourage Cas to continue stealing his clothes and Cas opened his mouth to respond just as Dean said, “Raid my hamper. I don’t care.”
“Oh.” Cas nodded thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “Well, I should still have things of my own, I guess. Now I’m human.”
“Yeah, that’s all I meant.” Dean sighed in relief and wondered if he could get Cas to wear an old Rolling Stones muscle tank of his and nothing else without actually having to say it.
“No flannel though,” Cas said, scowling.
“Perish the thought. You getting underwear or are you just going to stare at it?”
“I don’t know what to get,” Cas admitted. “I wore boxers because Jimmy wore boxers. But I find them cumbersome. You wear these boxer briefs…” Cas held up a package of black boxer briefs. “Are these better?”
“How do you know what kind of- Nevermind. Of course, you do. Yeah, sure. Try em’ out. Ladies love em’ anyway.”
Cas moved to drop the package in the cart and froze, casting Dean an expression of pitying disappointment so loud that he almost heard Cas say the words, “You’re such an idiot, Dean” though he hadn’t opened his mouth.
Finally, they were on their way to the registers, but Cas was silent as Dean gathered his nut, hunched over the cart. He spoke around the straw in his empty cup and mumbled, “You’dhmmphsssckst.”
Cas stopped and turned around, curling his lip. “What?”
Dean swallowed and stood up straight. “You’d look sexy in em’. The…the briefs. Boxer briefs. Not that you don’t. Already. In general. Regardless of…ya know. Okay?”
Cas reared and his jaw did something funny as he half-smiled with teeth. “Thank you, Dean.”
“Don’t mention it,” Dean muttered. “To anybody. Hey, we should get you a robe and slippers. It’s good to be cozy.”
Next to them, a man in an expensive-looking leather jacket smacked the shoulder of the guy he was with as he looked at socks and said, “I told you we weren’t the only ones in Kansas.”
#5
“I got a delivery coming to the bunker at three we gotta be there for,” Dean said, putting pedal to the metal back to Lebanon, the backseat and trunk stuffed with the loot of their spree. “Let’s pick up some burgers, huh? I’m starved.”
“I want to show you something first,” Cas said placidly, staring out the passenger window. “In town. The park behind the library. It won’t take long.”
“Eh…” Dean blew through his lips, glancing at his phone. “Yeah, we got time.”
Dean assumed what Cas had to show him must have to do with a potential case. Because over the course of twelve years, if Cas said “I want to show you something” it usually meant something both cosmic and incredibly shitty. So Dean’s stomach twisted as he grimaced through the rest of the drive, Night Ranger blaring from the radio.
He’d been having such a nice day and even if in the past the hunt had almost felt like a respite from his stormy insides and Purgatory most of all like something blessedly simple (because who’s got the time for all that self-loathing when you’re fighting that hard to survive and find the damn angel), he’d really started to like this peaceful normal stuff with Cas since he’d been back. Maybe they could be peaceful together. Just listen to some good tunes and do fucking jigsaw puzzles, watch movies.
“Dean?” Cas said, after a few minutes of his rapidly darkening mood. “Are you alright?”
“I just didn’t expect somethin’ to be comin’ up,” Dean said, shrugging. “Guess that’s exactly when shit likes to come up, huh?”
Cas blinked at him and then seemed to realize what Dean meant, his shoulders slumping. “I apologize. This has nothing to do with a case. Or anything of concern. It’s just…something I wanted to show you.”
“Oh.” Dean nodded, his entire body unclenching. “Heh. Yeah, alright.”
Dean parked Baby in the library lot and followed Cas into the park where they beelined across the grass and past the playground to a bench that overlooked the duck pond. He sat and smiled up at Dean, patting the empty seat next to him.
Dean deliberated for a moment and sat a little closer to Cas than he would usually. He breathed and looked around. The bench was partially shaded by a big Silver Maple and the sunlight reflected off the pond, cute white ducks ruffling their feathers and drifting across the water.
“The ducks,” Dean murmured, sending Cas a squinty smile.
“It’s a peaceful spot,” Cas said. “The bunker can get claustrophobic. I thought you could use a peaceful spot.”
“You sure you’re human now?” Dean said wryly. “Not readin’ my mind or anything?”
“No,” Cas said, raising his eyebrows. “But I’ve often wished I could read your mind. Without the volcano melt, as you call it.”
“Vulcan mind meld.”
Dean stared at him, Cas squinting out at the lake, a soft contented expression on his face, his right hand on the bench near Dean’s knee. Cas, hooded eyes glimmering, breathing there like a human being and wearing Dean’s faded old Journey shirt. Cas even knew a few Journey songs. He’d had to listen to Dean singing along to “Don’t Stop Believing” nearly every time it played on a drive, unless Dean was in a sour mood. The breeze was blowing Cas’s hair around.
“Are you sorry you’re human for good now?” Dean blurted. “Was that the only way Jack could get you out?”
Cas twisted around, cocking his head in his too familiar expression of abject confusion, staring so silently for so long it reminded Dean of early days. “I thought you knew.”
“What?”
“I chose this, Dean,” Cas said. “Jack offered me a choice. I could be strengthened, not just regain all the grace I’d lost, but ascend. I would have been a new kind of angel. The first of a unique generation of neo-archangels. I would have been more powerful than Michael. To serve as Jack’s right hand in heaven for as long as he needed. Or I could be human.”
Dean twisted his hands, pressing the middle of his palm with his thumb. “Oh. Well, I guess it… I guess that makes sense. I guess it was what you were heading towards. The free will thing and all.”
Cas chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, but you’re not listening. It’s not going to be like it was. Jack can come down and visit as long as he wants, do whatever he wants. But angels and demons aren’t going to be walking the earth anymore. That was an aberration. And if I had gone on to live another several hundred millennia, eventually I would return to the Empty and you’d be… I wanted to be human, yes. But I chose you, Dean. I turned down second in command of heaven and earth and all the cosmos to come here, and sit next to you on this bench, and show you the ducks.”
There was no point trying not to cry. After all, it was Cas. What had Cas not already seen of him? So a couple real annoying tears slid down his cheeks and maybe that was part of getting his nut up about it. “How do you…” He could hardly speak, his voice was so thick. “How’d you do it? I mean when…when we were down there and you were and…” He hadn’t let himself think of it for a while, after obsessing about it constantly once Cas was gone, berating himself for missing their chance, for not saying anything, for letting Cas go (what would he have done? Something) and it caught up all at once like it hadn’t since that night he’d sat there in the dungeon letting Sam’s panicked calls go one after the other, sobbing into his hands. “I-I couldn’t,” he said brokenly, “and I wanted to but I couldn’t and then it didn’t matter and I thought nothing was gonna fucking matter ever again, Cas. And-and you were so beautiful about it. You were better at being human than me before you were human-”
“That’s bullshit.” Cas took Dean’s face between his hands, forcing his gaze. “You’re the most human human that’s ever walked this planet. You’re all of it, Dean. Chuck became something monstrous, yes. But humans remain his genius, his greatest work. You’re the reason humans were ever created. You’re the triumph of humanity. And you know I don’t expect anything from you-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dean mumbled. He sniffed and rested his forehead against Cas’s, resting there, catching his breath, and Cas held him, his thumbs idly stroking his cheeks.
“Dean…”
“You can have it,” Dean whispered, clutching Cas’s shoulders. “Are you listening? You got your ears on? Cas, you were wrong. You’ve always had it. All of it. You got it already. You got me.”
Cas sat back and looked at him with what Dean thought was a pretty dumbass amount of surprise, considering. So Dean leaned in and kissed him.
The first time a girl ever said “easy, Tiger” after he’d kissed her with his usual young man sense of cocky bravado, gently pushing him back and then taking control with sweet little pecks to his lips, Dean had been shocked and then on edge. Those kinds of kisses left open so much space, for some feeling he couldn’t control or for somebody to come to their senses and realize Dean Winchester was absolutely not worth the trouble.
But it didn’t occur to him to plunder Cas with his tongue, even if that was what he’d always imagined, and not this quiet press of lips Dean laid on him.
Dean kissed Cas soft and careful and even then the earth and cosmos tipped so hard he squeezed Cas’s shoulders to right himself, Cas an anchor. He broke away for an instant and opened his eyes, half expecting to see Castiel’s wings out like that first time, streetlights exploding around them, maybe the duck pond parting like the Red Sea. Cas started to open his mouth to speak and whatever it was Dean never learned it because he had to kiss Cas again, again and again, to taste what his lips were like a little dampened and salty from Dean’s tears, the tip of his tongue still sweet from the caramel frappuccino.
Salted caramel, Dean thought distantly. Jack’s favorite ice cream.
He had to feel Cas’s warm palms on his neck and to hear him inhale through his nose.
Dean broke away again just to check in. Cas gawked at him, eyes wide, blushing mouth wide open. His hand slid down and clutched Dean’s right shoulder, gripped tight. Dean felt the brand, could swear he felt a heat that was more than a human hand through his overshirt. But he’d always felt it. The longer he’d known Cas, the more the brand had burned, long after it was healed. He’d felt it aching every time Cas was taken away.
“I’m gonna make you so happy,” Dean said, glaring at him, willing to believe himself capable of it. “I swear, Cas.”
“Is that a threat?” Cas said, coming back to earth.
“Oh, wise ass, huh?”
“Shut up, Dean,” Cas said, and kissed him again.
“That’s funny,” Dean murmured, nodding along to Blue Oyster Cult as he sorted puzzle pieces on the map table, stomach full of bacon cheeseburger and milkshake. “I don’t think I’ve ever done a jigsaw puzzle, either.”
“If you see Princes Leia’s face,” Cas said as stoically as if he were asking for information on one of the four horsemen, “I’m looking for that.”
“You’re supposed to do the straight edge first,” Dean said, reaching down to give Miracle scritches. He had a nice little pile going of straight edges and he was trying to keep the pieces divided between the ones he’d sifted through already and the ones he hadn’t. But Cas kept pushing his sifted pieces around and they were getting all mixed up. Cas shoved a little pile over to Dean’s side again and Dean rolled his eyes. “Cas, c’mon. You’re messing up my whole system here. Straight edges.”
“You just said you’ve never done a jigsaw puzzle,” Cas said, narrowing his eyes.
“Yeah, but everybody knows that’s how you start one.”
“I see.” Cas said nodding. “And I assume there is a law enforcement division of the federal government that is going to apprehend me for not doing the straight edges first?”
“Yes,” Dean said. “Yes, there is. They’re takin’ your ass to Guantanamo for this.”
Cas grinned fully, bright white teeth gleaming. “And will you help me break out if they find me?”
“Obviously,” Dean muttered. “Done it before.”
“You cheated,” Cas said darkly.
“Yeah, well…”
Perhaps just to make clear he didn’t mean anything bringing up Dean’s deal with Billie and what he’d done in turn to scrap it, Cas nudged Dean’s leg under the table with his socked foot, gazing at him shyly.
Oh right, Dean thought. We do things like that now.
He grabbed Cas’s hand off the table and kissed his palm with a wet smack, watching his eyes light up. “I’m gonna get a Coke. You want something?”
Cas seemed too distracted to answer as Dean played with his hand, so he kissed the inside of Cas’s wrist. “Ah…no,” Cas said. “Thank you.”
Dean winked at him and got to his feet, nearly tripping on his boot and then righting himself. He felt so much lighter, buoyant almost, like his physical body had not yet compensated for an immense weight he’d carried that was now gone. He glanced back over his shoulder at Cas, who now looked more amused than dazed. He muttered to himself on his way to the kitchen.
“Real smooth, Winchester.”
In the kitchen, Dean stared into the fridge, a little dazed himself, and wondering how long Cas would insist on working the jigsaw puzzle because sitting there at the map table after he’d just busted his heart wide open was asking a lot. It didn’t help that Cas kept staring back at him with those eyes and Dean hadn’t become used to that after twelve years of it.
Dean’s ears perked up at the sound of Castiel’s soft steps. Even as a human he moved as quietly as a phantom, but Dean had become attuned to that barely there footfall, like it was a frequency only he could hear. He was even quieter wearing sneakers. Dean grabbed a can of Coke, closing the fridge, and there Cas was almost as if he’d flown in. Dean smirked, a quip on his lips, but he didn’t get it out before Cas was on him, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and somehow yanking Dean forward while shoving him against the counter, swallowing Dean’s surprised little yelp, the Coke slipping out of his hands.
Dean smiled against Cas’s mouth. “Easy, Tiger.”
Cas seemed to take it as a challenge and the growl in the back of his throat made Dean grab his hips as Cas went in to suck on his bottom lip and the feel of that light beard stubble on his skin did something that made Dean shiver.
“Your…mouth…is…” Cas’s rasp cracked along Dean’s lips. Dean nudged his chin, gently, teasing his mouth open a little wider for one tongue kiss after the other.
“Yeah?” Dean let Cas respond in kind and his hands wandered up under the Journey shirt. “What is it?”
“Mm…” Cas leaned back, his wrists now locked around Dean’s neck. “There is an Enochian word…” Cas’s eyes rolled up as if searching the ceiling. “Not quite translatable. Something along the lines of…inscrutably provocative.”
“Excuse me.” Dean reared back. “No one around here is more inscrutably provocative than you are. Just poppin’ into my motel rooms straight from heaven to eye fuck in a trenchcoat for how long? C’mon.”
Cas grinned just as the phone in Dean’s pocket buzzed insistently and he groaned, reluctantly pulling away to glance at it as Cas’s teeth grazed his throat. “Ugh…the um…hmmm. Delivery…”
Cas’s half-chub grinding into Dean’s hip wasn’t helping him want to stop.
“Who cares,” Cas mumbled.
“Trust me.” Dean took a breath and, with a summing of self-control, pressed Cas back, not stepping away before playfully fidgeting with the amulet, tapping his chest. “You’ll like it.”
#1, 2, 3, 4…
The couch was ugly as hell, but it was new from a furniture wholesaler outside Lebanon and discounted down to nothing. Most importantly, the place had agreed to deliver it same-day. Dean had found it online, immediately ordering it on his phone while Cas was picking up frapps from the Target Starbucks. The delivery guys had texted him as they attempted to deliver it to a vacant garage down the street, the fake-out address Dean provided for a lot of deliveries.
So Dean ran up and charmingly apologized for giving them the wrong address, sending them off with a reasonable tip and weathering Cas’s unamused glare as they carried the thing down the road to the bunker and then finagled it all the way down to the Dean Cave in the basement.
The thing was chartreuse microfiber. But it was blessedly comfy, and in the dark you could hardly tell the color. And in the dark, he was half in Cas’s lap and Cas kept idly twirling locks of Dean’s hair around his finger while he watched Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory with his usual focus.
“When do they reveal that Willy Wonka is a demon?” Cas said as Veruca Salt tumbled down a garbage chute.
Dean snorted a laugh. “He’s not a demon.”
“Of course, he is, Dean,” Cas said, as if it could not possibly be under dispute. “He is essentially offering deals to corrupted humans just as a demon would. Children no less. Does Charlie Bucket defeat him?”
“So, I guess Metatron didn’t download Roald Dahl into your noggin, then?” Dean said.
“Uh, no…” Cas was frowning, but his fingers were at work, tangling in Dean’s hair, scratching his scalp. Dean thought he might be melting, it felt so good. “Very little children’s fiction. Also, Metatron’s knowledge of culture was more…eclectic than he let on. Much of it consisted of self-published romance novels. Also, every volume in the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. I’m not certain which of those I found more shocking.”
Dean tittered at that and then sighed because Cas was scratching the back of his neck with blunt fingernails. Minutes later, as Charlie and Uncle Joe floated toward the exhaust fans, Dean’s gaze slid over to Cas’s again and saw an opening, a little hole in his fear he could climb through.
Dean paused the movie. “Hey, Cas.”
“Yes, Dean?” Cas looked at him.
“I love you.”
Cas looked as if Dean had just clocked him with a frying pan.
Dean tossed the remote to the floor and started to move, but Cas moved first and somehow Dean ended up on his back, Cas on top of him, gaze fixed on Dean’s soul where his gaze had always been fixed.
“Cas.” Dean reached up and traced the line of Cas’s cheek with the pads of his fingers just because he could and pressed his thumb to Cas’s bottom lip. “Thanks for never givin’ up on me.”
“I could say the same to you,” Cas said.
“We’ve had our moments,” Dean said, and Cas kissed his thumb. “I got an idea. How’s about you and I make this you and me thing worth it all?”
“Yes,” Cas said, and kissed him.
“I love you, I love you,” Dean said. Now that he’d said it aloud, for just the two of them, it didn’t seem so hard to keep saying it, feeling drunk as Cas kissed his throat. “Hey Cas, I love you.”
Dean would’ve kept saying it, only Cas had pushed his shirt up and was making a meal of Dean’s nipples like they were part of a special new diet. Cas licked and nibbled and just when Dean was most sensitive, the bristle of Cas’s stubble brushed against his chest and he hissed just as Cas popped his fly. A stealthy, formerly angelic hand snuck down into Dean’s jeans to palm the growing erection in his boxer briefs.
“Do you know…” Cas’s voice had yet lowered, rough turned gravel sending tingles up Dean’s spine. “Do you know how much time I spent wondering what you would taste like? Once I allowed myself to imagine it.” Cas kissed his way down the middle of Dean’s chest. “Even when I had larger concerns. To say the least. Or when I was lying next to you in Purgatory-”
“Oh dammit,” Dean whispered and tugged gently on Cas’s hair. As if he hadn’t been doing exactly the same thing at the same time, the two of them lying in the dirt back to back, so off his head grateful they’d found Cas while working hard to ignore the thick tension between the three of them, pretending he didn’t know what Benny’s looks meant.
Cas was massaging his thickening cock through the briefs, nudging his jeans down, and those blunt nails raked a line of heat down his happy trail. Dean looked down, body on fire, and saw Cas looking up at him, for a moment seeing things because Cas’s eyes were so bright that for a second Dean saw them lit up with the blaze of grace. But no, it was simply Cas’s usual intensity where Dean was concerned.
“Please forgive me,” Cas said, already panting, “if my boundless enthusiasm for you compromises my performance.”
“I really don’t think that’ll be a problem for- oh fuck, Cas.”
Cas had pulled some slick maneuver that had Dean’s jeans and briefs down mid-thigh and Dean’s cock in Cas’s mouth, seemingly all in one motion as if he’d grown a couple of hands. Dean bit his lip, head thrown back, wincing when it knocked against the hard part of the couch’s arm. Cas hadn’t teased at all, just took Dean right down his throat, keeping his eyes on him the whole time as Dean quivered and moaned around him.
Cas’s mouth. Those terminally soft pale pink lips were wrapped around him and the heat of his throat engulfed Dean. He felt his pulse beating a rhythm inside Cas’s body. Cas gripped his thighs hard enough to bruise and Dean tugged a little harder on his hair, making him moan. Saliva pooled around Cas’s lips and Dean’s watched him, the way his pupils blew out and his mouth grew red as he sucked Dean off with abandon, reaching up to tentatively fondle Dean’s balls, plump drops of Cas’s spit spilling from his mouth and over his fingers. Cas’s tongue curled around him and he sucked in his cheeks.
He wanted to scream, it felt so good. Almost confusingly good.
It went on so long, Dean teetering on the edge, he started to worry he would never come. All he could do was shake and writhe and plead.
And then Cas pulled off of him and said, “Dean, I-” and with a start and a jolt Dean came, shuddering at the sound of Cas’s voice, impossible bliss quaking through. Cas lapped up his cum, determinedly keeping eye contact.
“Oh, you son of a…” Some high pitched little laugh came out of Dean and he slapped his forehead.
Cas gently tucked him back into his briefs and climbed up his body, leaving little kisses along his skin, now covered with a fine sheet of sweat. “You’ve done that before.”
“No, I haven’t,” Cas said hoarsely. He lay half on top of Dean, leg falling off the couch. “But I’ve thought about it a lot. I have Googled.”
“Well, bang-up job,” Dean muttered, kissing his mouth, tasting himself on Cas’s tongue. He reached down, intending to begin a reciprocating activity, and found a damp spot on the front of Cas’s jeans just as Cas grabbed his wrist, blush darkening. “Oh. Guess I don’t have to worry about you.”
“Um…” Cas rolled his eyes and settled his arm around Dean, resting his head on his chest. “Watching you, tasting you… It was extremely arousing.”
“Okay, well next time I’m doing more work. I’m no lay about in bed, believe me. Maybe when I was…twenty. I was terrible in bed at twenty. Alright, up til about twenty-four. Twenty-six at the outside. But let’s not talk about that.”
“I look forward to reaping the benefits of your maturity,” Cas said, dry as a bone.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too, sweetheart,” Dean said, and turned his head to kiss Cas’s hair. “‘I’m suddenly looking forward in general.”
Two days later.
Dean sat back on his elbows, naked and half covered by a sheet, watching Castiel pull on his hot dog pajama pants, which he so far liked to steal from Dean at any opportunity. Cas’s sex hair, Dean had decided, was magnificent. It stuck out in all directions and Dean calculated it to be about 65% rockstar sexy and about 35% chaotic dork.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Cas said, yawning. “But I’ll put on coffee first.”
“I can put on the coffee.” Dean rose and slipped on a pair of sweatpants from a heap on the floor before following Cas as if he were leaving the bunker for the day and not going two doors down the hall.
Dean hovered in the doorway, leaning his wrists up above his head on the jamb and watching Cas rub his eyes in the hall before turning to look at Dean with a little half smile.
Dean, feeling high as the sky and twice as smug about his own performance over the last forty-eight hours, smirked unapologetically and watched Cas’s eyes roll heavenward.
“What?” Cas said
“Nothin’.” Dean reached out and tugged the amulet hanging between Cas’s pecs, littered with a couple of especially enthusiastic love bites. “C’mere, hot stuff.”
Cas dutifully followed suit and kissed Dean as if he would be kissing him again very soon and also as if the two of them had been having truly epic sex for the last two days.
“Oh, shit- oh…oh. Okay. Hi. Cool. Hey. Guys.”
They broke apart to see Sam looming in the hallway, backpack on his shoulder, staring at them, equal parts horrified and pleased. Cas ducked his head and coughed before turning on his heel and casually walking by Sam, in all his half-naked sex haired glory.
“Uh hey,” Sam said, nodding hello. Sam watched Cas slink away, his mouth hanging open.
“You’ll catch flies, Sam,” Cas said over his shoulder.
Dean watched it all, grinning like an idiot. “Hey, Sammy.”
“What…wow.” Sam just gawked at him. “Wow. Wow.”
“Alright.” Dean dropped his arms and grabbed his robe from the back of a chair, pulling it on and heading to the kitchen. “Get it all out.”
“No! I’m just- I’m just- I mean, it’s great!” Sam looked about ready to bust as he followed Dean. “What happened? I mean no, oh God no, don’t tell me the gory details-”
“Wasn’t going to.”
“But how?”
Dean spun around and shrugged at his brother, robe flapping open. He scratched his head. “I don’t know, man! He wanted to do a jigsaw puzzle, so we went to Target and then he told me I’m the triumph of humanity and we made out in the park.” Dean threw up his hands. “I bought a couch!”
“You bought a couch?” Sam’s brow furrowed with disappointment. “Man, I told you not to max that card.”
“Well, ya know, gotta boyfriend now,” Dean said, sighing as if it were a great chore. “Profound bond. Yadda yadda. He calls the shots now, Sammy. Nothin’ but Target trips and jigsaw puzzles from here on out. Fuck my life, right?”
“You look totally bummed about it.”
“Yeah, it’s the worst,” Dean said, unable to contain his grin.