One day, an angel was told to save a man, and being a dutiful and obedient angel, he did. But this man was nothing like the angels Castiel was so used to. He was strong like them, and brave too but he burned hot with passion and his voice was fearless but tender. Nothing like the distant and cold angel. Dean was whiskey and gunpowder to his clean efficiency, discord and rebellion to his unwavering obedience. Slowly, Dean taught Castiel to feel, to see the strength of family. And slowly, he found a way into Dean's life. Over time, he became someone to trust when all hell broke loose and to find solace with amongst their mistakes. Dean never noticed that he needed Castiel. It crept up on him, catching him off guard and before he knew it, Dean Winchester had let him in. An angel barred from heaven and a hunter sick of death grew together, tangling like vines and slowly growing used to the word 'family'. Smiles came easier, worry felt stronger as "Castiel, dude" became "Cas". The world could see the shifting dynamic, and everyone smiled to themselves because the only ones still blind were the couple, completely oblivious. And they were a couple, if not by name then by nights spent together, drinking in companionable silence because words can't compare to the sideways glances and almost-touching thighs with alcohol-numbed logic whispering what could be. This change wove its way into their lives, drinking together and gaining confidence in their bond until the night when the stars fell into alignment and the world moved on its axis, because Castiel could feel his heart rebelling against his chest, echoing the renouncement of his old life. He lacked wings now, but the wings beating in his chest were ready to burst out, and they did. He could live without heaven, without God if he could have this much, this human emotion. Love. He loved Dean Winchester, he always had, even if it was fragile and misunderstood, ignored. So, with alcohol warming his body and the truth warming his heart, Castiel took a breath and took his hunter's hand, leaning his head upon broad shoulders. He closed his eyes, anxious, until he felt the light brush of Dean's lips against his forehead and smiled. They were resonating, silence speaking volumes as they drifted into sleep.
I wish you hadn't left, Dean. We never got to finish our story, so I tried to write it. Forgive me, I didn't meant to make it "chick flick" but I wanted the chance to say I love you. Maybe this isn't too late... I want to come home.