Three Times Dean Said "I Love You"

They sat in a Baker's Square in Felton, California, after a witch hunt. Cities and jobs typically blend together for Dean, but he's never forgotten this one. Sam left the diner to go to a pharmacy next door for supplies, leaving Dean sitting across from Castiel, alone in the early morning quiet.

Well, it would have been quiet, but Cas' black dress shoe kept tapping on the flecked linoleum. Dean gritted his teeth and tried to focus on his bacon cheeseburger, but the food wasn't quite good enough to hold his concentration. So Cas just continued, tapping away, his eyes staring at something that was just out of reach. Dean tried to catch Cas' gaze to make him stop, but the bright blue eyes eluded him. Suddenly, Cas' mouth twitched, drawing Dean's eyes to the gentle arch of Cas' upper lip. Dean felt a soft tug on the tip of his own lip and clenched his jaw to fight the sensation. That'd been happening more and more to him lately, this peculiar urge to smile around Cas. Sam had mentioned it one night, after he ran into Dean trying to sneak back to his own bedroom at four AM. The story was that Cas had experienced his first nightmare, but Sam wasn't buying it. If someone can deal with being trapped in Purgatory for a year, thought Sam, I think he can handle a little night terror. But Dean knew nothing of Sam's suspicions, and hid every urge under a layer of sarcasm.

In his haste to cover his smirk, Dean searched for something else to distract him from the tap-tap-tap of the Goodwill shoe. Without thinking, the hunter reached his foot out and gently pressed Cas' offending shoe to the floor. Cas looked up, eyes rapidly refocusing.

"What?" the angel asked.

"That shoe, man. I couldn't take that noise anymore!" Dean replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't realize that was an annoyance. I was not thinking very clearly." Cas paused, forehead wrinkling. "Aren't you going to lift your foot off, now?"

Dean froze. His green eyes widened as he searched for a reason why. Just move your foot, man, he thought to himself, but his foot didn't budge.

"It's okay, you know."

"What?" this time it was Dean's turn to be confused.

"Your foot. I don't mind it," Cas elaborated, smiling slightly, "In fact…" Staring directly at the man across from him, Cas took his unencumbered foot and placed it on top of Dean's corresponding one.

"You're blushing."

"No, I'm not. It's too damn hot in here. Let's go." Dean felt heat rising throughout his whole body. He hadn't felt this embarrassed since Amanda Heckerling dumped him at Truman High.

"I think I know enough about human emotion by this point, Dean. You are embarrassed by physical contact."

"I am not. Don't be a dick; I hook up with girls all the time. It's more action than you ever get."

"Dean," Cas said, casting his eyes downward at his half-eaten burger, "What if I don't want to 'hook up' with any girls?"

Dean's mouth dropped open. He tried to turn the corners into a smile, but it was too late. Cas's eyes narrowed to slits and he grabbed for his trench coat and slid out of the booth, jaw set and hands gripping the tan fabric.

"Wait, Cas," Dean muttered. Cas kept walking, and Dean began to miss the sound of Cas' shoe. Thinking of the shoe made Dean think of Cas' shy smile and Cas' leg against his own and Cas' hand on Dean's head after being stunned by the witch and abruptly Dean was lurching across the red leather booth towards the diner door. The bell chimed twice in rapid succession: first when Cas tried to open the door, and second when Dean grabbed Cas, causing the angel to lean back and involuntarily pull the door shut.

"I didn't mean it, okay?" Dean said, unable to look the other man in the eye. "I swear, I'm just surprised. But it's not that weird. Love is love, isn't that what those commercials say? I get it."

"I don't believe that you do, Dean. You don't love much, in the romantic sense. You 'love them and leave them,' as Sam likes to say. And you certainly don't know what it's like to love a man."

"That's what you'd think." The words were out of Dean's mouth before he could clamp his teeth down and trap them inside.

"What do you mean, Dean? Have you loved someone… someone who is not a woman?"

"I don't want to talk abou-"

"Dean. Please." Cas pleaded, taking a step closer to Dean.

"Yeah, Cas. Sure." Dean couldn't meet Cas' eyes, so he stared at the patterns in the white tile.

"Do you still? Who?"

"I'm not going to talk about this with your de-feathered ass, okay? I can't-"

Cas took another step into Dean's space.

"I think you'll be happier if you show your feelings, Dean," Cas' face was expressionless, but the redness creeping up his cheeks was unmistakable. Dean had been putting moves on chicks in diners for twenty years now, and he knew that look.

"Cas."

"Yes, Dean?" Cas responded.

"No, stupid. That's my answer. You. Cas. Castiel. Angel of the Lord."

"That's who you…"

"Love. Yeah, Cas. I love you."

"Oh." The redness in Castiel's cheeks reached fire-engine levels, and Dean knew there was no turning back. He looked at that pink curve of Cas' lip and leaned in. One of Dean's hands found its way to Cas' hair, leaving a trail of tufts in its wake.

After a few moments, Cas pulled away gently. Dean, gaze fixated to a point just below Cas' left shoulder, rooted in his pocket for the Impala's keys. Suddenly he felt a slight pressure, a pulling, on his right hand. He looked up, and Cas was smiling. A real smile this time, not a shy half-grin.

"Dean?"

"What, Cas?" Dean replied, stifling a chuckle.

"Are you going to let go of my hand, now?"