This story takes place Season 11 between episodes 2 & 3. Basically before they'd gotten too far with Amara, and Castiel had just been cured. At least, that's when I started writing it - this story deals very little with the events currently taking place in Season 11.

Chapter 1

Of all places on Earth, Castiel thought he would finally get to experience this thing humans called "a good night's sleep" in the bunker. For all its faults and cold interior, it was as close to heaven as he thought he'd probably experience again. More books than you could possibly read. A basic television that Sam had hooked up to something called "Netflix" that provided hours of entertainment. A comfortable couch. An old fridge stocked with cold beer that he had grown quite fond of since his time on Earth.

And of course his roommates – his new brothers. New is a relative term, he supposed – they'd been in each other's lives for around seven years, but compared to the time he's spent in heaven with his brothers and sisters – let's just say it felt like the beginning of the relationship, even still.

He didn't know how long his time in the bunker would be – the last time he stayed any length of time he was unceremoniously kicked out by Dean, but with an arguably decent reason. They were letting him stay under the auspice of his "healing" from the curse, but they all knew he felt better. Felt stronger. And when they weren't stressing about the darkness or Amara, they were having a blast – watching old kung fu movies ("Have to teach you about pop-culture," was Dean's excuse, but Cas knew it calmed the hunter's nerves.), having a go at some of the old board games around the bunker (They made the mistake of playing Trivial Pursuit with Sam once. Once.), and working on some of the cars they had in the garage (Not Dean's baby of course, but he was teaching Cas how to work on his own Chevy Cutlass).

Frankly, it was the lightest he had felt in a long time. So light in fact, that he was surprised that he still had trouble sleeping. He lied in his comfortable bed, a heavy comforter shielding him from the cold of his room. It was deathly silent, and he supposed that is probably what bothered him the most – even in his quiet moments he could always tune into angel radio and be lulled into sleep by the sounds his brethren, like someone would listen to white noise. Not for the first time, he felt his eyes well at the loss.

Frustrated, he ripped the comforter off and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. The red numbers read 3:52. Neither of the other boys would be up this late – but Cas had to do something to mute out his loud brain. Pulling on his overcoat he trudged down the hall, barefoot, his black hair standing on end from tossing and turning. The rest of the bunker was just as quiet and still as his room. He briefly considered turning on the television – something mindless might put him at ease. Re-runs of House Hunters, maybe?

He kept walking past the living room and towards the front door. Fresh air suddenly sounded perfect, though he couldn't put his finger on why. Maybe it reminded him of all his years of wandering the earth, aimlessly - just observing. Maybe it's just because the bunker smelled like old pizza.

Stepping outside he realized immediately he wasn't wearing shoes. Briefly he considered going inside to get them, and then decided against it – the hard dirt beneath him served to ground his soul, reminding him where he was. He took off in a direction that felt right – not like he had any particular place he wanted to be. Feeling aimless felt nice for a change.

He walked and walked until he reached a bit of a meadow, where he could clearly see the crescent moon. Most of the night sky laid out very crispy before him. Somehow the forest was louder than the bunker – sounds of animals and the wind played in his ears. It eased his mind and he could think more clearly. Suddenly and very powerfully he missed his father. He wasn't expecting it, and he gasped a bit at the ache at the pit of his stomach. The immeasurable strength and peace His presence – words couldn't describe the hole left in his being with its distance. It was as if he hadn't felt truly whole in years. Everything else he tried to fill the void with didn't come close to measuring up.

All except, if he were honest, Dean. Something about the simple, righteous man filled that gap if only a little. The way he tried so hard to do the right thing, the best thing. How often that fell flat, only to have him try again and again. When Castiel was sent to retrieve Dean's soul from hell, he knew it was for a greater purpose but he truly wasn't ready for the depth that he found there. His soul was unlike anything he'd ever come across, before or since. Truly, Dean had no idea how unique he was and if Cas was being honest, it was probably better that way.

Just thinking about Dean made him smile, as he stared up at the night sky. Dean could be so petulant and contrary. The mark and the events of the last year had damaged him more than he would care to admit. And all of it in the name of protecting his brother. Castiel should have thought that trait was outdated and unnecessary – instead he continued to find it inspiring. To live and breathe for another human like Dean did for his brother, nearly every day of his life – it filled the angel with pride to know him.

Idly, Cas supposed this is what feeling in love is like. Admiring otherwise annoying or insignificant traits in another person. The thought of being in love with Dean didn't frighten him in the least – it actually felt like the natural progression of their relationship. Not that anything would ever come from it. Loving Dean meant loving that stubborn part of his brain that held him back from experiencing things deeper and more potent than a few one night stands. Underneath it all, he was just keeping himself safe because he cared too deeply, and in their line of work, that was damn near suicidal. Cas surmised he'd probably spend all of Dean's life waiting for even a brief opportunity to tell him how much he cared about him. Though knowing their luck, it would likely be when the other was dying.

Castiel found himself crouching to kneel on the hard ground. The small rocks dug into his knees as he clasped his hands. He used to pray so often but now it almost felt foreign, a muscle memory forgotten. But he needed to try to connect to his father, if even for a moment.

"Father," he started, aloud to the darkness and the stars. "Father, where are you?"

The forest was still awake around him, but he heard and saw nothing. Not even a burning bush. Not that he expected to – that trick was old anyway.

"We – we don't know what we're doing." He cleared his throat. "This thing, the darkness – it's beyond us. It's bigger than us. I fear it's bigger than you. And in all of this, I keep searching for you, for some shred of hope that we'll find a way to beat this thing. That you'll come out of whatever hole you've gotten yourself into and save us. I still have faith Father but, frankly not much." He took a deep breath. "That's not what I wanted to say tonight. Faith is about believing that what you're doing is right for everyone, and I have to trust that. I just have to. If I don't –"he paused, "if I don't I'm not sure how I can keep going."

"What I wanted to say was, thank you. I can't believe I've never said it, but I suppose I've never taken a moment to think about how thankful I am. Thank you for all those years ago sending me on a suicidal mission to pull a soul from Hell. Knowing Dean has changed me so profoundly – I'm not even sure you could have suspected how much it would have, though, of course I'm sure you did. The time that I have spent with the Winchesters have been the best years of my existence. I'm sad that my brothers and sisters will never experience humanity like the way I have, through his and Sam's life. Life, humans – they are so much better and messier and beautiful than I would have ever figured out on my own."

"And Dean –"his throat constricted a bit, "Dean makes me want to be a better man. I'll never be able to thank him for that, but I do thank you for putting him in my life. Father, I just hope that wherever you are and whatever you're doing that you can hear this and know that although I'm so angry at you for not being around, that I still am humbled at the path you set me on."

Cas took a shaky breath. Oddly enough, saying all of that out loud – it just felt better. Like a release. He felt a tiny sting on his foot, and turned around. Ants, just a few dozen, were crawling around his toes. He briskly brushed them off and then he saw him – in the moonlight stood Dean, frozen against a tree. He was wearing plaid pj pants and a sweater, his arms wrapped around himself against the cold of the night. The air hung heavy between them as their eyes met.

"How long…" Castiel hardly spoke above a whisper.

"Long enough."

Cas turned away from him and stood, brushing off his knees. The pleasant, fleeting connection with his Father faded to dread. He knew how much Dean hated talking about feelings and here they were - Castiel's deepest thoughts exposed, spread out in the open. Should he try to pass it off, pretend it was an act? But of course that's ridiculous – Dean's smarter than that. To act like anything else would be an insult to his intelligence.

"Look, what I said-"

"Cas are you barefoot?"

Castiel looked down at his feet and back up, thrown by the question. "Uh, yeah. I couldn't sleep, and the ground didn't bother me. It felt kinda nice."

Dean's expression finally changed from a stern gaze to something warmer. He gave a small smile as the angel turned around to face him. "You look pretty ridiculous."

"I feel pretty ridiculous. Something bit me - I didn't know ants could bite."

"Oh yeah, they do that."

They both said nothing and just looked at each other. The wind picked up a slight chill in the breeze, rustling the fallen leaves at Castiel's feet. You would think that their staring would be incredibly uncomfortable, but for them it never had been - they'd always stared unabashedly as long as they'd known each other. At first it was out of wonder, as the other's existence alone perplexed them. Then later as an expression of their bond - they could almost tell what the other was thinking. But now it was something else - Castiel's private confession made this look different. He searched Dean's face for an ounce of a tell – but it gave nothing away. Cas had no idea if he was going to shoot him or say nothing about this moment ever again. And frankly he didn't know which one he wished for more.

"Did you mean that?"

Well, that's not what he expected to come out of Dean's mouth.

"My prayer?" He paused, an easy out. But a cowardly one, so he didn't take it. "Yea, I did."

"How long have you felt that way?"

Even still the expression Dean wore wasn't reveling a thing about what he was actually feeling in these moments. Castiel contemplated going on the defense - if he came up with a halfway decent excuse, maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't have to change anything about their relationship. But if living with humans and watching them fall in love with each other over and over again throughout time has taught him anything, being bold is how things get started. And maybe – maybe he wanted something to start…

"For a long time, Dean." He paused, tilting his head a bit and grimacing. "I'm sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable - I promise that was not my intention."

That seemed to break Dean out of his poker face - he shook his head and softened his expression. "No, I'm sorry Cas. This was your private moment I walked in on. I just heard you leaving and wanted to make sure you weren't doing some crazy post curse related sleep killing or something."

"Sleep killing?"

"Yeah, it could be a thing..."Dean's weight shifted from one leg to the other. They said nothing for another few moments - Cas had no idea how to make this any less awkward.

"I didn't know you still prayed."

"I don't really. I just - " Castiel stopped, wanting to guard his thoughts. But was there even a point to that anymore, after all he's heard? "I missed my father, and I couldn't sleep. I thought if I prayed and believed he could hear me that I would feel that connection with him again."

"Did it work?"

He shrugged. "It did for a moment, I suppose. I don't know what I was expecting."

"Cas, I'm sorry. I get so mad at God for high-tailing it out of here when we need him the most that I forget how that must feel for you." Dean looked back in the direction where they came. "I'm freezing out here man, let's go back inside. I really could use some hot cocoa."

"That sounds nice."

They made their way back to the bunker in silence. Castiel's limited experience of confessions of love made it hard for him to judge how the rest of the night was going to go, but at least he figured he'd get hot chocolate out of it.

"Here." Dean handed the steaming cup to Cas and sat down next to him on the couch.

"Thanks." Castiel took a small sip - it instantly warmed him to his bones. It's amazing how just a beverage could do that. Human beings do not appreciate enough how the taste of something can completely change your physiology. He wondered if he should be worried about what happens next, but Dean's expression seemed calm enough.

"Look, Cas." Dean started, taking a deep breath. "You know I don't talk about feelings, so I'm just going to lay this all out there, and rip off the band aid, ok?"

"Ok..."

"That was, far and away, the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me in my life."

Well, that's not exactly the direction Cas was expecting.

"I know you didn't mean for me to hear it and I'm sorry I snooped. I really didn't mean to. I meant what I said – I was worried about some after effect of the curse." He took a sip out of his mug and a tiny artificial marshmallow stuck to his upper lip. Castiel made a motion to wipe it off but stopped himself. He didn't want to say or do anything to sway Dean off course – this was so rare of a moment - so it just dangled there. "But when I saw you get down to pray, I couldn't help myself. I just – look, I don't know how to put this into words, ok?"

"Dean, you don't have to say anything." Cas shook his head. He had to give the guy an out. "Also you have – a marshmallow –"

Dean sneaked his tongue out and snatched the tiny sugary bump from his lip, smiling a bit as he did it. "How long?"

"Long enough."

They both laughed at that, and the tension left them. Cas leaned back against the couch and let the mug rest against his bare chest – Dean looked towards the television, comfortably starting into the distance. He suddenly set his mug down on the coffee table and leaned forward.

"No, look, I want to say this, because it's really been bugging me for a while. This connection we have – what the hell is it?"

Castiel took a moment, trying to phrase what he wanted to say. "Well, when I retrieved your soul from the pits of hell, I did have to reconstruct it back together with my own grace. So I guess you could say that part of my soul merged with yours. It was necessary to make you a whole person again."

"Is that what it is? It's just so intense! I swear if I felt the way about a woman that I feel about you, I'd be trying to get into her pants all the time!" The way he phrased it made it sound off the cuff and boisterous, but once the words left his lips the entire atmosphere between the two of them changed. He looked as if he wanted to swallow those words back up – Cas cocked his head to one side and smirked.

"Well I'd never want to be another one of your conquests, Dean."

"That's not – oh man, see this is why I don't do the touchy feely crap! Anyway, you know what I mean. End of talk." He turned his body and picked up his hot cocoa, taking a big gulp. His body language indicated he was VERY done with the conversation. Problem was, there was a small part of Cas that just had to say something to watch him squirm. It was just too easy.

"I'm afraid I really don't."

Dean looked sheepishly up from his mug. "Seriously. You're going to make me say it?"

"If I knew what it was, maybe I'd be able to help." Most of the heat had left the mug, but Cas could feel heat rise from the base of his neck through his face.

"I don't know man, it's not as if I've ever felt this way before for another dude. I don't know what this is."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe I felt the same way, and are just as confused as you are?"

That gave Dean pause. Obviously not. "No. Do you?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord, Dean. Whose grace was intermingled with a human soul. That just doesn't happen. I don't think it's ever happened before in the history of creation. So I'd say we're falling into undiscovered territory here." Castiel shifted, and tucked a leg underneath himself. "All I know is, I've always felt a bond with you, but recently – there has been something else to it. And I'm pretty sure this is exactly what my father meant to have happen."

"Wait a minute, Cas. Are you saying you think we're soul mates or something?" Dean looked incredulously, his voice rising slightly at the last few words. He said the word soul mates like the phrase made him physically ill. It quite possibly did.

"Not in the way they show in your – what do you call them? Chick flicks? But yes – something like that."

"Woa." Dean sat back against the couch and looked out in front of him. "Well I'll be honest Cas that is not what I was expecting."

They sat in silence again for some time. The bunker was quiet but it must be edging towards sunrise – not that they would really know, as the bunker has no windows. Their mugs sat on the coffee table, growing cold. Neither of them looked at each other, and it filled Castiel with sadness. Finally, he spoke.

"I fear the events of the evening may have changed things between us, and I don't want that."

Dean blinked a little. "Just a lot to take in, man. I mean, now what? Do I kiss you?"

The angel reeled back a little from that. He's used to Dean being forward, but not that forward.

"Uh – I don't know? Do you want to?"

"Well, that's kinda what I was getting at earlier. Like I said, if you were a chick I'd have jumped your bones a long time ago. I just want to be with you – all the time." His words started to run together, like he was trying to get them out faster than his mouth could say them. "I dream about you – when you're not around I'm thinking about you. When you're hurt I completely lose it. I don't know – I am fairly sure that I'm not gay. Or at least, that I wasn't? But you showed up and bam! You totally changed me. I don't know what the hell to do about it. Part of me wants to hit you and the other part…"

Castiel couldn't quite process all of it at once. He was at once excited and terrified at Dean's words. The hunter's declaration trailed off his lips and he was left exposed. His green eyes shone with stark vulnerability – Cas had never seen him so visceral. He wanted to fix it, to make everything better – make him laugh, make him whole. Would he ever stop trying to fix Dean?

Swiftly, the angel leaned forward and caught his lips in a kiss. It was sweet – chase. Short. They both closed their eyes tightly. Dean's breath smelled like beer – Cas idly wondered if it maybe always did. He's never been this close. He brought his hand up and stroked his face, stubble rubbing against his skin. Is this what it is to love someone so completely?

Dean pulled back but not too far, lips still parted slightly. His angular face was flushed and a deep red was forming at his cheeks. He looked confused, which was not a good sign to Cas. He immediately wished he hadn't done that.

"I'm sorry – that was too forward. I think I'm just going back to bed now." His voice was low.

"You're not going anywhere."

Dean pounced - throwing the bulk of his weight at Castiel. It caught him off guard and he flew back against the couch. He moved his lips against Cas – there was something electric that shot up the angel's spine when their lips met. Dean grasped at the lapels of his coat, then let his hands splay on his bare chest. Cas snaked his arms around his waist and pulled him closer into the kiss. The weight of the hunter was intoxicating – his frame tightly wound the angels'. The moment felt unreal – is this actually happening? Their lips danced against each other, alternating sweet with something wetter and hotter. They made out like a couple of teenagers in heat. Maybe they were. Finally Dean broke it off, breathless as he pulled himself up slightly to face Cas.

"I don't know what I'm feeling but I sure as shit like doing that."

"Me too." They shared a look of wonder, then Cas pushed up his neck and gave him a slow kiss. They kept kissing for some time, Dean eventually turning them so they lie next to each other. Their kisses grew softer, more languid. They were both exhausted. Eventually they both faded off to sleep in each other's embrace. And it was the best night's sleep Castiel has ever had.