Dean Winchester & Castiel: Assist

by Anniered

"You…" Garth was laughing again, "Are under a love spell!" he and Sam threw their heads back and hooted. Castiel was grinning, though his forehead was lined with concern. Destiel Casdean Deancas . Based of a Tumblr prompt on a short-acting love curse.

"Looks like what you boys have got there is a plant species known as yarrow." Bobby's voice came crackling over the phone.

"Yarrow?" Dean asked, looking between Sam and Castiel to see if recognition of the word had graced them. The case was picked up two days ago by Garth, given to them as they were within a days drive of Missouri. It seemed pretty basic to the brothers, two deaths, suspicious 'accidents' that all seemed to point to witchcraft with flashing neon signs. Sure enough, upon searching their units, they had found a small bag in each containing multiple items of interest – the only one that caused confusion was a small, white petalled plant with green leaves – found in the apartments of the two victims. They had called Bobby in hopes of establishing its spell properties.

"Yeah, it is a plant that grows through European regions and across most of Asia. It has been used in herbal medicines for centuries."

"What is it used for?" Sam asked.

"Hell if I know!" He snapped, Sam furrowed his brow and glanced at Dean, they heard Bobby take a deep breath, that's what we get for calling at lunch time… "Like I said, centuries of use. I just read about a particular version of the plant that can induce sneezing... You boys aren't holding a flower with flat, white petals, is ya?"

"White, yes. Flat, no. These petals are more... Fluffy, I guess. Kinda pom-pom looking." Sam said, turning the stem of the flower between his fingers.

"Fluffy?" There was silence, and then a half-laugh. "Cas'll like this one. Sounds like you boys are holding the breed called Angel's Breath." It was involuntary, and he even tried to avoid the action, but Dean's eyes shot to Castiel at the word. Castiel had looked up at him in the same moment. Bobby continued talking, "They often symbolise purity and innocence." Castiel's teeth buried themselves into his bottom lip. "Usually given to someone as a sign of undying fidelity."

Castiel suddenly looked away.

"Uh, great. Thanks, Bobby." Dean managed to mumble, shaking his head to clear it. Bobby signed off with a grumble and the phone went silent.

"Angel's Breath..." Sam mumbled, he thought for a moment, "You know, I bet that Asian Medicinal shop in the side street a few blocks back would know something about this plant."

"You mean the one next to the dumpling stand?" Smirked Dean, standing up from the picnic table and tossing his empty beer can into the bin nearby.

"Yeah, but it is getting a bit late. I think we should check into a hotel and head there for opening in the morning. It is probably after business hours now."

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time, it was nearly six o'clock in the evening. He shrugged and agreed with Sam, "Alright, Sammy. Lead the way."

/\/\/\/\

Dean lay on his back in bed, the roof seemed closer tonight than any other night. The silence of not hearing Sam's breathing in the next bed was deafening. He breathed out sharply and rolled over, he thought about how he probably should have volunteered to help Sam research, instead of having a bit too much beer and diving into bed at the first chance he got. He wondered if there were any good movies on, or any old TV shows.

Anything for the white noise.

He sat up in bed, reaching for the remote and clicking through the channels. Not a lot on offer, he thought with a frown. He settled for an older movie that looked like the plot wouldn't matter, he tossed the remote onto the table and lay back down. He was about to shut his eyes when there was a flutter and a dark shape stumbled out of the shadows

"What th—" he started, reaching for his gun on instinct, then he registered the mumbling that came from the figure, "Cas?!"

"Oh! Hello, Dean!" He murmured excitedly as he stepped into the light of the TV screen. He looked significantly more dishevelled than usual. "I was going to help Sam, but then decided it was not interesting enough."

Dean blinked, "Not interesting enough?" He almost chuckled, "This coming from the guy that once stood for hours on the side of the road waiting for me to catch some shut-eye..."

"I am confused..." Castiel suddenly mumbled, stumbling forward and plopping down on the end of Dean's bed.

The smell of honey-infused whiskey hit Dean like a wrecking ball, "And drunk?"

Castiel tilted his head to the side, "I only drank six bottles?"

"Ah, so, tipsy?"

"I like that word."

He sighed, "What are you confused about, Cas?"

"Why is there a flower named after my, and my siblings', breath?" He asked, turning to face Dean fully, "Are we supposed to have nice breath?" He continued, "Why name a plant that has little, fluffy flowers after angels? We are quite frightening..."

"Oh yeah, you got me shaking in my boots right now." Dean beamed. Castiel scowled slightly as Dean grinned wider. "I dunno, Cas. I guess people have just always imagined white, fluffy wings?"

"My wings are horrifying..." He said defiantly, standing and scowling at Dean.

That was cute. "I—uh, I am sure they are…" he moved over in his bed and patted the space beside him, "How about you take a seat and—" before he finished his sentence, Castiel had dropped on the bed beside him – he sighed contently and rolled to his stomach.

"Why did you decide to drink a couple of litres of whiskey, Cas?" Dean laughed half-heartedly. He wondered how Castiel would react if he ran his hand over his back, just as a comfort. Easy, tiger.

"I am not sure." Castiel shrugged, "I have spent quite a time on this planet, and I am still as confused by its inhabitants as I was years ago."

"So, you drink?" Dean questioned. "You drink because you don't understand?"

Castiel turned his head to peak up at Dean, "Is that not why you drink?"

Ha, he has got you there...

Dean was silent. Castiel still looked up at him from his position next to him. There was still a good two feet in between them, but Dean eyed the space cautiously, almost willing it to be less. Don't do it, Dean… He thought to himself, "How about you get some rest, Cas?" he smirked, looking back up at the TV.

Castiel chuckled once and sighed deeply, he thought for a moment and then furrowed his eyebrows into a concentrated scowl. The hunter felt his skin heat up as Castiel bit into his lip, "Dean, I have been meaning to talk to you—" Castiel was cut short by the door of the hotel room unlocking and Sam walking in. Sam sighed deeply as he closed the door behind him, his laptop bag hung low on his arm and he had a book tucked under his chin as he fumbled with his keys. He looked up and saw Dean and Castiel bathed in the soft light of the TV. He paused in the doorway, glancing between the two of them.

"Oh, sorry…" he mumbled, looking unsure of himself – he half angled himself to leave, "Should I…"

"Cas is tipsy," Dean smirked, he was partially annoyed that Sam had interrupted, but also concerned that he would have to explain the blush he could feel on his cheeks – he hoped the dim light was enough to hide it, he played it cool, grinning wider as he continued, "he is having trouble understanding the ways of humans."

"Again." Castiel added, now face down in the pillow.

"Again." Dean amended.

"Ah." Sam laughed. "I wish we could help, but we spend most of our time confused about our fellow men and women ourselves." He walked forward and dropped his laptop bag on the table, "And speaking of confused fellow beings, I was contacted by Garth. Apparently, Bobby has suggested him for our correspondence for the rest of this case…" Sam pursed his lips as he stripped his shirt and almost dropped into bed, Dean glanced down at Castiel, then across to Sam as he continued, "He is making the trip tomorrow to drop in, he said he was almost in the neighbourhood."

Dean laughed once and nodded, "Great, look forward to working with the scrawny bastard."

Sam looked over at Castiel and decided not to comment, instead he huffed a laugh and rolled over, facing the wall. Dean watched Castiel for a few more moments, debating whether he should suggest he take off for a few hours, but the angel looked so peaceful – Dean knew he didn't need sleep, but he wasn't bothering anyone. Dean sighed and turned the TV off, resisting the urge to tuck Castiel in beside him. He rolled over, listening to the two sets of breathing in the room. It was almost unnerving that there was one more than he was used too.

He focused on the pattern of breathing closest to him, matching his own breaths to theirs. There was a moment in sleep when he thought he felt a warm hand trace the line along his jaw to his ear, it was pleasant and comforting, his subconscious told him it was Castiel – but he couldn't bring himself to wake up and confirm it.

When he woke just after two a.m., he was alone in his bed – with the space beside him still warm.

/\/\/\/\

They walked into the small shop, bronze bells on red ribbons announced their entrance, a small waving cat sat to the right and Castiel turned his head to the side as he watched it. He leant down to the statue's level, Dean noticed and stopped Sam, pointing towards the curious angel. The brothers smiled as Castiel slowly reached out to touch the waving paw. Castiel started to nod his head in synchrony with the lucky cat statue without realising, Sam reached slowly for his phone and was set to record him when— "Oh please, do not touch that." Came a feminine voice from behind the counter.

All three jumped, spinning towards the counter. She was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, her long, black hair pulled back into a low ponytail, her almond eyes watched them with a note of suspicion. "Can I help you?"

Dean nudged Sam, grinning widely and almost strutting towards the counter, "Nice shop you have here." Dean said, smirking at the woman, she raised an eyebrow at him. "So, where are you from?" he beamed, leaning over towards her.

"Missouri…?" She replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No – I mean—" Dean started.

"You trying to ask why I look like this?" she gestured to her face, eyes narrowing in impatience, "Do I go around asking every white person where they invaded from?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Sam stepped forward, though he almost wanted to watch Dean scramble for his explanation, "I think what my partner was trying to ask was," Sam stepped forward, "What region does your shop focus on?" the girl kept her eyes pointed at Dean for a moment longer, and then turned towards Sam with a polite smile.

"We have family from all over the continent of Asia, we have taken many aspects of the different countries and their cultures and brought them to one place to make it easier to help those who seek it."

"What help can your shop offer?" Castiel asked, he had walked up behind Dean and the hunter jumped a little in surprise at the proximity. He felt his neck heat up as he stepped away, allowing the angel to stand in line with himself and Sam.

The woman was watching Dean, her dark pupils flickered between he and Castiel with one of her eyebrows slightly cocked, "Sometimes people need a little assistance in certain parts of their life, health, wealth, luck, spiritual healing…" the woman behind the desk paused and smiled, "Love…" again she looked between Dean and Castiel.

Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end, he tried to keep his voice stern, "So, uh, you just assist by giving them a bowl of whatever you feel like and, what, suddenly everything fixes itself?"

Sam pulled a face, but the cashier just shrugged, "Natural remedies have existed long before the medicines you can buy from massive companies today – but so long as the person gets the desired effect, then they can do whatever they would like. Some people chew leaves to cure a headache, some take an aspirin."

"Alright, miss—" Sam started again, pausing when the woman raised her hand.

"Mrs," the woman said, pointing behind her to a photo of two women, one in a traditional Chinese gown, herself, and the other in a simple white dress, "Mrs. Bo Kendall."

Sam and Dean raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other, Dean puffed his cheeks and exhaled with a smile, Castiel watched the exchange. "Mrs. Kendall…" Sam continued, have you had a regular customer recently purchase a handful of items that may raise questions?"

"You mean," she looked between them, "Do I serve a witch?"

The trio was surprised by her level of comfort with the word, she was shaking her head before she spoke, "No, I can tell a bad witch from a distance and we politely decline them as customers, they understand – of course. We are happy to redirect the questionable of them to another supplier, but my parents are not appreciative of witches using out remedies and ingredients if there is a possibility of harm. We would never harm another human being, we only aim to help. Assist them in whatever way would improve their life."

"Thank you for being so open with us." Castiel nodded.

"Before we go," Sam smiled politely, "Does your shop sell yarrow? Specifically of the Angel's Breath variety?"

"Yes, we do. Used for innocence, purity, especially in cases of welcoming new life, or new love." She smiled, she walked out from around the counter and roughly brushed past Castiel – he made a face of irritation, there was plenty of room and she still managed to knock into him. Sam half-smiled and shrugged at Castiel as he adjusted his trench coat. Following Bo, Sam was shown the flora section of the establishment, and found multiple stems of the plant, but also pressed versions of the flower, and dried petals.

He held a fresh-cut stem up to Castiel and Dean. "It looks like our witch could have purchased her flower from here, they must have been able to fool Bo..."

"Or it could have come from any florist…" Castiel mumbled, looking out the window at the local plant nursery across the road. "Or if the witch grew it in their personal garden."

He returned the store's cut of the flower and pocketed his own, "You're right, Cas. We need another clue. Perhaps there is another target?" Sam returned to the counter, "You don't happen to have a book on the herbs for sale, would you? Maybe on what they represent?" Bo walked to the shelf behind her and pulled out a small book, she held it out to Sam and he turned it over, eyes scanning the back, "Great, I'll take it."

Bo nodded and took the book back, slipping it inside a small paper bag, sealing it with a stamp of gold wax that had one of the waving cats pressed on it. "You should enjoy it, it even has pretty pictures to keep your partner entertained…" she grinned, shooting a look at Dean.

Sam huffed a laugh and thanked Bo, Dean looked severely annoyed at being the butt of a joke. They left the shop and glanced around the street, after grabbing a bite to eat and another six pack of beer, they headed back to the hotel to further examine the hex bags they had found – hoping for a new clue, any clue.

On the doorstep waiting for them was a small reddish-brown box, with Dean's name etched sloppily into the lid.

"Welp," Dean growled, lifting the box slowly, "Looks like you got what you wanted, Sammy…"

/\/\/\/\

"We found something, Garth—" Sam started, Garth had met up with them merely minutes after they came across the mystery box, inside was a medium sized square of red silken material, "It doesn't look like any kind of hex bag I have seen, it was in a small wood box with apples carved on it…" Sam held the box, the lid open showing the still partially wrapped cloth, out to Garth. He took it and turned it over in his hands, he sniffed it, scratched the surface of the wood, and then licked it.

Dean, Sam and Castiel exchanged a look.

"You got some damn fine apple tree wood here." He grinned, "The heartwood of apple trees ends up being this nice red-brown colour, reeeeeeal nice." He opened the lid, "What have we got here… A red silk cloth, some yarrow, a maple leaf, a shell, and some hair?" he held the hair under his nose, inhaling, "Hmm, horsehair!"

"How the—" d'uh, werewolf, Dean paused holding his hands up, "Y'know what? Never mind." He mumbled, just in case the answer was somehow stranger.

"Did you say 'yarrow'?" Sam asked, leaning forward.

"Yeah, this lil guy." Garth held the yarrow up between his finger, "Apparently they have a whole bunch of different types – but you'll have to scope that out with some good ole fashioned research."

"We don't need to... That's—" Sam started.

"Angel's breath…" Castiel finished.

"Angel's breath?" Garth raised an eyebrow, "You mean, like, the one that people use to represent virtue and clean love and all that?"

"Yeah, according to the info Bobby had on it." Sam shrugged.

"How do you know about it?" Dean smirked.

"I think it was in Bess' bouquet on our wedding day..." Garth said, trailing off as he quickly flicked through the contents of the box again, his eyebrows shot suddenly towards his hairline.

Dean hadn't noticed, rubbing his hand over his chin in frustration, "This isn't helping us figure out what the curse is—" he stopped abruptly as he saw Garth's face turn from his normal tone to cherry-tomato red in moments, he was clearly trying to stifle a laugh, his eyes began to water, and his lips were a tight line.

He cracked, howling at the sky and stomping his feet, it took him ages until he was consolable again, he took a few moments, mimicking laboured breaths with a hee-hee-hoo to calm himself.

"You got some Angel's Breath, for purity and innocence, right? Now let's have a look at the rest – you got some red silk, for lust; you got a shell, for protection; you got a damn maple leaf, a very common representation of lovers in most Asian cultures; and you got some horsehair, and I will bet my bottom dollar that it is from a harp – which is the world's most romantic instrument; and to top it all off, all these treasures are nestled inside a box carved from the wood of an apple tree! Apple! Another symbol for love!" He was snickering again, this time Dean saw Sam was trying his hardest not to join in, "You…" Garth was laughing again, "Are under a love spell!" he and Sam threw their heads back and hooted. Castiel was grinning, though his forehead was lined with concern.

"W—well, let's destroy it before I make an ass of myself!" Dean said, lunging for the box, Garth moved it out of his way.

"Hang on, hang on!" Garth said, "You gotta find the hex bag, this is just a little pile of treasures, the hex bag is what you have to find – they have the spell on them, they are what needs to be destroyed."

"The hex bag?" Dean muttered.

"Where do you want to start?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Garth answered, he turned to Dean, smirking as he handed the box back to him, "I'd start searching, Dean." He laughed again, watching the anguish cross the hunter's features. "Whoever cursed you was clearly confident enough in their hiding that they felt the need to hand over the whole box of ingredients. Makes you wonder though – did the other victims receive their own treasure boxes? What resulted in them dying?"

/\/\/\/\

"What do you mean you couldn't find it?" Dean yelled, crossing his arms over his chest in frustration as he followed Sam into the new hotel room.

"Exactly that, Dean..." Sam replied, "The witch could have put the hex bag anywhere in there. So, I thought it best to just move to a new hotel. And anyway, at least this is a love curse, the worst you can do is… Well, fall in love, at least until we find the bag."

"A curse is a curse, right?" he grumbled, looking up as the door opened and Castiel walked in, arms filled with paper shopping bags. Relief washed over him, it was like he felt lighter just being in the angel's presence. "Oh good, I was wondering where you have been."

"I just got Sam's text where the new hotel was. I went and got you some beer, and also..." Castiel pulled a cardboard box out of the paper shopping bag, "I was told this was the best pie in the state, so I brought it for you." he held it out to Dean as he walked towards the angel.

"Awesome." His body felt warm at the thoughtfulness, his eyes smouldered as he smiled gently, "You really know how to make a guy feel better about being cursed." he took the pie and leant in to Castiel, wrapping his free arm around the angel's waist between the trench coat and dress shirt, and pulled him against him, pressing his lips to the corner of his mouth. Castiel smiled bashfully and turned to put the beer in the fridge, removing one, popping the top off and handing it to Dean, he winked at him in thanks.

Dean flipped the top off the pie box and sat down across from Sam, ready to eat. He was about to take a bite when he glanced up and saw a look that was the mixture of shock and amusement on his younger brother's face.

"What?"

"What in the hell was that?" Sam half-gasped, trying to control himself.

"What in the hell was what?"

"You just kissed Cas."

Dean glared at Sam, unable to see what the deal was for a second – then suddenly he shook his head, reality crashing into him like a train, "Holy shit, I just kissed Cas..." he turned, towards Castiel, who was walking around the table to give Sam a beer, "Cas, why did I kiss you?"

"Appreciation, I assumed." Castiel shrugged as Sam accepted the beer.

"You don't find it strange that Dean kissed you?" Sam asked, a smile breaking across his face.

He tilted his head, brow furrowing in confusion, "Oh." Realisation hit Castiel, "You kissed me." Blush painted his cheeks, trailing down towards his neck.

Sam threw his head back and laughed, "I have got to text Garth…"

"Can it, Sammy!" Dean grumbled, "The damn hex bag must be nearby." Dean started, he had already searched every part of Baby and of his suitcase. He tried not to look at Castiel, though he could feel his eyes on him. His face felt hot, he debated getting up and leaving the table. Don't be such a coward, you coward.

Sam was still stifling a laugh, nodding as he tried to text, he gave up and placed his head on his hands. Laughing again, he tried to speak – but he looked at Dean and Castiel and started over. "I am so sorry, guys." He couldn't manage the words without snickering.

"Am I to understand that every so often Dean will have a sudden lapse and become infatuated with a random person?" Castiel asked, taking a sip from his drink, his eyes were on Dean as he asked the question.

"I guess there is only one way to find out…" Sam grinned, "Shall we go out for an hour or so and see how you go in the public?"

Dean pursed his lips, "You'll stop me if I make a fool of myself?"

"Most probably." Sam beamed, his grin faltered slightly as his eyes moved to Castiel, "I know you'd love to witness this, but I think you should stay here – he has already showed an… Interest… in you. So, it wouldn't be a fair trial if you came."

"Oh." Castiel mumbled, he was clearly disappointed. The instinct was there and before he even knew what he was doing, Dean reached over and placed his hand on top of Castiel's, squeezing it gently in reassurance.

Sam grinned and nodded at their hands, "See what I mean?"

Dean suddenly looked up at him and pulled his hand away, "I—uh, sorry, Cas."

"I didn't mind," he mumbled, blushing again, "Dean."

There was silence at the table, Sam was loving every second, his mouth in an open-wide gaping grin, his hand clasped around his bottle, watching with pure glee as his brother and one of his closest friends practically had eye-sex over the table.

"O—okay, let's go, Sam." Dean said suddenly, standing up and walking towards the bathroom "I will just hit the head and grab my jacket." He disappeared behind the closed door, in the bathroom he leant against the wall, taking a slow breath, shaking his head. Snap out of it, man. He took in a deep lungful of air as he ran his hand through his hair and sighed again. He flashed a smile, checking for anything in his teeth, and nodded to himself. He flushed the toilet to make sure that Sam and Castiel didn't suspect he was having a moment of anxiety in the bathroom.

He re-emerged, pulling his jacket on and making sure he had his cash and keys, he walked towards the table, Castiel looked up as Dean stood next to him, less than a foot between them, "I will see you when we return." he leant over and tilted Castiel's chin up with his hand, "We will be back soon." He whispered, kissing him softly on the tip of his nose.

Sam stood in the doorway, lips pursed together in a tight line to hide the grin that threatened to bust out of him. Dean turned and walked back towards Sam, taking in his expression then pausing before blinking twice in awareness, he flushed red and then continued out the door.

Too embarrassed to look back at Castiel, and too self-conscious to look at Sam.

/\/\/\/\

The experiment was unsuccessful, the brother's returned back at the hotel within two hours of leaving. They had come home to Castiel sitting on the lounge, watching an old-timey TV program, "Hey, how was your night?" Dean smiled, walking forward quickly and dropping next to the angel, placing his arm over his shoulders and pulling him in to kiss his forehead. Castiel smiled, blushing lightly, but keeping his eyes off Dean's.

"It was not too bad." he said, he began telling Dean about the episode he was watching and what parts he didn't understand, when—

"Are you serious?" Sam groaned, Dean looked up as Castiel did, "We were out for two hours, you tried to flirt with multiple people, some basically begging for you to go home with them, and the first time you smile since leaving is when you get back?" Sam held his head in his hands, Dean shook his head, he looked down and found that he had entwined his fingers with Castiel's, he let out a sigh of exasperation and got up from the lounge – putting a small amount of space between them. "Cas, I don't think Dean is going to just become infatuated with any person, I think the curse has made him fall for you!"

Castiel was speechless, Dean spun to look at him, they stared at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say. "I—I… Umm, " the angel started, but words seemed to avoid him, "I suppose we will have to be more careful?" he didn't sound convinced that that is what he wanted.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, "And don't let me do anything that makes you uncomfortable..." Neither did Dean.

"Of course." Castiel replied softly, looking down at his hand for a moment, "A—and don't let me tempt you, I suppose..."

"Uh, yeah, that would be wise..."

"Holy shit, this is too much." Sam snickered.

"Quiet, Sam!" they said in unison.

Sam held up his hands, "Calm down," he chuckled, "Dean, I think we will have to focus a lot more energy on finding the bag tomorrow. And it might be wise to have Cas keep his distance for a few days—" he looked up and saw that both Castiel and Dean had mirrored expressions of horror, "What? What's wrong?"

"I mean, we don't have to send Cas away, do we?" Dean mumbled, glancing behind him at Castiel.

"Oh my god."

"I would prefer to stay, I feel as though I could find some way to be useful." Castiel murmured, Dean nodded a bit too eagerly along with him.

"Oh. My. God." Sam shook his head, "I cannot believe this is happening to me right now. Should I book myself another room? In another hotel? In another state?"

"Don't be absurd." Castiel grumbled.

"You guys do remember that this is a curse, right?" Sam laughed once without humour, they both nodded, Sam raised an eyebrow, "Cas..." Sam smirked, "Are you cursed too?"

Curse, Dean scoffed internally, doesn't seem that bad to me… But then again— Dean hated the idea that someone was forcing Castiel into something that he may regret later, he didn't want the angel uncomfortable around him in the future if Dean was too take this too far unintentionally.

Dean looked over at Castiel, he bit into his lip, "I think I may be." he said bashfully.

"Oh wow." Sam scoffed, shaking his head again. He turned back around and found them both sitting on the lounge, just that little too close together to be considered platonic. "Alright, we are gunna have to keep a handle on this." he started pacing in front of them, "Holding hands, longing glances – I can handle, and I am sure you guys can handle. But I think we need to draw the line at making out, and anything more. We need to make sure neither of you crosses that line, it might seem okay now, but when—" if , "you guys snap out of it later, there could be some issues..."

/\/\/\/\

They sat in the booth at breakfast.

Sam in between them.

Dean was reading the menu to himself, pretending that he was considering something other than the double-bacon-egg deluxe breakfast burger with a side of tater-tots and three-cheese dipping sauce that he had been fantasizing about since the second he read it on the specials board. Sam sat with his nose in an old book that he had borrowed from the local library, taking a short break from research. Castiel was looking around the diner, eyes eventually settling back on Dean as he placed the menu down. He winked at Castiel, the angel smiled gently, Sam scoffed over the top of his book.

Dean tried to clear his head, on one hand, he hated how natural flirting with Castiel came to him – he tried to remind himself it was the curse, but at the same time, he felt there was something more to the interactions. A type of normalcy to the whole scenario, surely that is the curse talking, he thought to himself, glancing up and smiling gently as his eyes met with Castiel's – almost melting into them, right?

"What can I get for y'all this fine day?" a waitress smiled down at the three men, Dean almost jumped at her sudden presence. She took their orders and smiled politely as Dean and Sam bickered over each other's choices.

"Fruit salad, Sammy? Really?" Dean joked, "Next minute we will be hopping into a big, red car and popping over to Wiggle Bay."

"Like you can talk! They dedicate a whole verse of a song to mash potatoes!" he laughed, Castiel staring at them with no clue as to what they were saying, "What do you think tater-tots are?"

"It is 'Hot Potato', you uncultured ass!" Dean mocked gasped, knowing full well that the last time either of them had probably heard it was when they were in single digits, "And 'mashed banana'!"

Once the food was delivered to the table, the brother's started eating. Dean devoured his burger as quickly as he could, putting on a show for Sam as he wiped the grease that dripped down his chin away. Castiel smirked at him and Sam rolled his eyes, then Dean took a bite of a cheese-dipped tater-tot – he emitted a long groan of delight.

"Sammy, Cas," he droned, holding a tater-tot out towards them, "you have got to try this."

"Yeah, no thanks, Dean." Sam chuckled, he could see the oil on Dean's fingertips from holding the lone piece of potato out to him, he smiled tightly then placed a piece of fruit into his mouth, raising his book again.

"I will try one." Castiel mumbled, reaching and taking it out of Dean's fingers, there was a buzz as their fingers touched – he pulled back quickly, about to pop the tater-tot into his mouth when—

"Wait!" Dean smiled, "Sauce first." Castiel cautiously dipped it in the sauce and popped it into his mouth. He went overboard with the sauce and in his hurry to get it in his mouth the cheese had dripped onto his chin. Dean grinned widely, gesturing at his own chin, "You got a little somethin'…"

Sam peeked over the top of his book, raising an eyebrow.

Castiel wiped at his jaw, completely missing the cheese.

Dean huffed a laugh, "C'mere." He laughed gently, as Castiel leant in towards him, Dean licked his thumb and wiped it off. His thumb ran along the seam of Castiel's lower lip, they parted slightly. He let a feral grin crawl across his face and cocked an eyebrow suggestively as he drew his thumb back and popped it in his mouth. Castiel was dazed, blinking twice and blushing a deep red.

"For the love of God." Sam muttered, dropping his book to the table with a 'thump' and massaging his temples.

"I don't think my father will be much help at this point in time." Castiel said softly, keeping his eyes on Dean. Sam chuckled as Dean grinned again, they finished up their meals and headed out into the street. They walked along the wide footpath, Sam pulling out his list of places and people that the victims had visited before they had died, he was hoping that if any of them had received a strange box, or had been acting differently, someone along the line would have noticed.

He was studying the first name on the list, another florist that was less than a block away which the first victim had visited regularly – when he looked up, he noticed an elderly couple exchanging glances with each other, then glaring at the space next to Sam. They weren't the only ones, two younger people had small smiles as they passed, and a young boy clinging to his mother watched curiously as his parent tried to ignore the subject of his fascination. Sam looked around himself, confused, and then he saw what everyone was looking at.

Dean and Castiel were walking half a step behind him, talking to each other, hand in hand. Their fingers entwined and their arms swinging ever so slightly. Dean's thumb traced circles on the back of Castiel's hand, he didn't know what they were talking about, but Castiel had a smile the size of a state as he watched the ground. Dean had an expression of pride and adoration, he lifted their hands up and pressed his lips to the back of the angel's tawny skin, then letting them fall as he realised Sam was watching.

"Ah, shit." Dean mumbled, reluctantly letting go of Castiel's hand.

"Guuuuuys," Sam groaned, "A little effort would be appreciated."

"Hey, man, you have no idea how much effort it is taking to just hold han—" Dean started.

"Ah-bah-bah-bah!" Sam held his hands up, "I don't need to know, just pleeeeease remember, this is a curse."

"Not bad as far as curses go." Dean grinned, causing Castiel to nod in agreement. Sam pursed his lips as Dean shrugged awkwardly.

"Just keep it in your pants," he grumbled, "Both of you…" they continued to the shop. He made them both go see the local police station to investigate any strange cults or witch-craft-like behaviours that could have started recently or that were under investigation already.

The florist didn't pan out, nor did the nursery, the local botanist had even told him they had never known of yarrow in this region and that they were looking in the wrong places – there didn't seem to be another place that stocked yarrow of the Angel's Breath variety in the town, and it really did seem like the two deceased were completely random. Castiel and Dean were able to find that both victims had had recent developments in their life, one was in a new relationship, and the other had just brought their first house. They met up and swapped what information they had, Sam decided that he would head back to the hotel and get some rest, maybe read some of his book until after business hours.

He planned another trip back to the medicinal shop, after watching how throughout Bo's book keeping was, he was positive that she would have documented if anyone had brought the Angel's Breath – maybe she wasn't as good at spotting a 'bad' witch as she thought.

He looked at his watch, Castiel and Dean had been gone for two hours since they had rendezvoused, and it was getting dark. He sighed and dialled Dean's phone, it went straight to voicemail, "Dean, call me back – where are you?" he ended the call and tried for Castiel.

It rang twice, and then Dean answered, "Hello, you have reached the phone of Castiel, Angel of Thursdays – he is unable to take your call but if y—"

"Dean, it is me…" Sam was unamused, "Mind telling me where you are?"

"At a movie." Dean answered, there was suddenly the unmistakeable sound of popcorn rustling, "This place has a drive-in, it hasn't started yet, you should come join! Third wheel and all that."

"Ha, no thanks." He grumbled, "You need to come back to the hotel, Dean," he tried to sound calm, "I don't think it is a good idea to be at the movies alone just now."

"Aw, come on, Sammy—"

"Just—" he interrupted, "Come back, Dean." There was a grumbled 'fine' and the phone went dead.

/\/\/\/\

Two more days passed with no new leads, no connections, no exciting developments, and no sign that the curse was lifting.

Sam could only do so much.

He tried to keep them separated more often, reminding them as much as he could without getting 'the okay, okay! We get it!' look. It was easy enough when they were apart, they would behave much like they did before the curse, they knew exactly what they had done and how they had been acting – both slightly embarrassed as they dwelled, all which seemed to evaporate when they were together again. Sam was relieved by this, as whatever it was doing – at least it was letting them know what was happening to them, and not roofie-ing them like the curse with Becky he had to live through.

On the first morning, Sam had awoken to see Castiel sitting up in Dean's bed, next to a sleeping Dean, their hands entwined, while Castiel read Sam's book. He had smiled politely to Sam, and he had thrown him a sympathetic smirk in return. Fully clothed is fine by me, Sam sighed internally and rolled over. The second morning was much the same, except that they seemed to have scooted closer to one another. Castiel's hands running gently through Dean's hair, like he was soothing him – this time the trench coat and suit jacket were gone, piled next to the dirty clothes basket beside the bed. Sam tried to ignore that this was practically topless for Castiel, but they still left a foot between them, so Sam let it go.

When Sam woke up on the morning of the third day and had rolled over to see Castiel's clothed back from half under the sheet, though missing his trench coat, tie, and suit jacket, with Dean's arm draped over him in sleep. Dean had a fist-full of his shirt in his hand, but they were motionless, only their breathing could be heard. He dreaded to think of what he would wake to tomorrow. When he had half-laughed, half-groaned, a shirtless Dean had poked his head up over the back of his partner to investigate the noise.

"You guys are making me feel like a strict parent!" he grumbled, getting up to stalk into the bathroom, "I said no sharing beds! Especially if in the same room as me."

"Well, we coul—"

"And no getting your own room!" he had shouted, slamming the bathroom door behind him. He could hear Dean chuckling through the door, "We are going to a new hotel tonight!"

"We aren't doing anything!" he yelled, there was a smile in his voice.

"We agree with your former warning, there is some level of control to this spell." Castiel added, his deep voice calm.

"Oh, now it is a 'spell'?" Sam called, opening the door and staring at them, his face crinkled into a pout, the entire front of Castiel's white button-down was undone. "Seriously?"

Dean grinned and shrugged, "Curse is so negative." Watching at Castiel slowly did his buttons up.

"Ugh," Sam half-moaned, then he remembered it was washing day, and he had never been more thankful for an escape. "Okay, well I am gunna take off and do the laundry – pile your dirty clothes into the basket." He closed the door again.

After his shower, and some stern words to the both of them, he sent them out to do the food shopping – they were almost ready to leave when he exited the room.

He wondered along to the laundry, basket of dirty clothes in his arms, and his book nestled on top. He sorted through the clothes, tossing the darks and lights into separate machines, and fishing his coins from his wallet. He made a habit of digging through the shirt and pant pockets, more than once an important piece of paper has gone through the washing on their watch – John had made a point to punish them each time. Sam sighed deeply at the memory and grabbed the last item, Castiel's trench coat.

He was surprised it had been placed on the pile, but after a quick read of the tag and seeing that it was machine washable, he set about checking the pockets.

It was in the last pocket, the deepest one that would have sat on Castiel's right hip, that his fingers curled around the foreign object. It was small, and soft, but felt like there was solid pieces inside it. He pulled it out and opened his hand.

It was wrapped in red silk, and a few pieces of braided horsehair held it closed and a gold, wax insignia stamped it shut. His eyes widened, the hex bag! He studied the insignia, it was the outline of the good-luck cat, he recognised it immediately.

Bo… he thought, she had bumped into Castiel when they were in her shop, she had made sure that the hex bag would be near Dean. No wonder she was so comfortable talking about witches, she is one. He gave her credit for hiding it on a person, they had never encountered that. He looked at his watch, they may still be in the room, better sooner than later…

He quickly shoved the coat into the washing machine and started it, resting the basket on top and bolted out of the laundry room. He practically busted through the door of their room, Dean and Castiel spun towards the noise, hostility flashed across Dean's face, but he relaxed when he saw it was Sam. "Sammy, have you seen Cas' trench? He can't fin—"

Sam raised his hand, the hex bag sitting on his palm, "This." He took a breath, "Was in the pocket of the trench."

"Is that…" Dean started.

"Yep," he popped his lips on the 'p', "The witch knew that Cas would be with us, they planted the bag on him!"

"How did I not notice?" Castiel asked, walking forward and taking the bag gingerly out of Sam's palm.

"You were probably a bit distracted." Sam smirked, "You remember when then cashier bumped into you? I would bet she used that to drop it into your pocket."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "What cashier?"

"Bo."

Dean and Castiel looked at each other, Dean gulped a large breath and exhaled through his nose.

"I suppose her knowing we are from out of town it would mean that my clothing would remain within a proximity of me in the form of a suitcase, or outerwear." Castiel followed up.

"But why us specifically?" Dean questioned.

"Maybe she just had it out for you?" Sam shrugged, "Your awful flirting attempt, maybe?" he stood up straighter, "Come on, we have to burn it!" he pulled his lighter out of his pocket and went to walk outside. He looked over his shoulder and saw that neither of the men had moved to follow, both staring at the bag and then out to Sam. "… Guys?"

"Y—yeah," Dean mumbled, "We are coming."

Sam walked slowly back towards them, he reached out and took the bag back, "I know you guys may have been enjoying this, and in another circumstance – I would be elated," he started gently, "but this isn't fully you, this isn't something that you both decided together. It was a curse, or spell, or whatever you want to call it." Dean and Castiel looked at each other sadly, then back to Sam and the bag, "Dean, remember when I got married to Becky? And I was convinced I was happy?" Dean looked reluctant to remember, but he nodded. "It is a similar thing… You guys can talk about it after, but I really think the right thing to do is to destroy it. Make your decisions when you are right of mind."

"I think Sam may have a point." Castiel murmured to Dean, they locked eyes and both almost looked depressed.

"Okay," Dean grunted, "Gimme the damn bag." Sam handed it over and followed Dean as he marched out to the carpark, he flicked his zippo lighter and let the bag catch, he then dropped it to the asphalt and watched as it turned to ash. It took a few moments to burn, but when it was finally smouldering, Dean ground the ash into nothing for good measure. He took a slow, steady breath, nothing felt different. He looked between Castiel and Sam, pursing his lips into a tight line.

"Well?" Sam asked, "How do you feel?"

"I don't know, I felt normal before, and I feel normal now." He grumbled, "I do need a beer though…" They turned and began walking back into the hotel room, Sam patted his back, not sure what else to do.

"We did the right thing." Castiel said gently, as they entered the room.

Dean looked at him and smiled, he swung his arm over his shoulder and pulled him against him. He kissed his cheek softly and smiled, "I know." He sighed, too content in the arms of his angel to realised he'd just kissed him again.

"Oh, come on!" Sam yelled from beside them.

They both looked at him, then understood, Dean dropped his arms and stepped away from Castiel, "There isn't another one on you, is there?" he half-smirked.

"No, I don't believe there is." He mumbled, checking his pockets as he spoke.

"I could give you a thorough look over." Dean wiggled his eyebrows and Castiel's lips turned up at the corners, a shy smile gracing him.

"Are. You. Serious?" Sam groaned, sinking down into the chair at the table, "Why didn't that work?!"

"I dunno, Sammy. Maybe the witch needs to retract the spell?" Dean shrugged, a part of him flooded with relief, but he knew that he shouldn't be too pleased.

Sam looked up from this position at the table, his eyes widened, "Of course!" he ran inside the house and grabbed his jacket, "Come on! The shop will be opened soon!"

/\/\/\/\

The closed sign was on the door, but Sam had seen her walk in about thirty minutes earlier as they watched from the Impala, he had been banished to the back seat and was bitter, Castiel and Dean had a small box of dumplings between them. Dean's arm was resting on the seat behind the angel's shoulders, fingers loitering on the collar of his white, button down – Sam hadn't wanted to wait for the washing to finish and dry just for Castiel's trench coat. Castiel had shot him a look of disapproval, but then Dean had leant in and whispered something in his ear, judging by the way Castiel had smiled – Sam wasn't that keen on knowing.

"I am telling you, Cas," Dean spoke around a mouthful of dumpling, "You look good in just that shirt. It does things." He cocked an eyebrow suggestively.

"Guys… I am still here…" Sam grumbled.

"Yes, you told me earlier—" Castiel nodded, "I believe there was also something about you thinking the floor would look good in it?" he tilted his head.

"Guys…"

"I said it would look better on my bedroom floor." Dean grinned, his finger moved up to trace the dark curls at the base of the angel's head.

Castiel tilted his head again, eyes narrowing, "Is this one of your seduction techniques?"

"Is it working?" Dean asked coyly.

"Of course." Castiel started to lean it slightly, Dean's hand moved to the angel's cheek.

"Nope! Nope! Nope!" Sam yelled suddenly, getting out of Baby, "We are not waiting any longer, get out of the damn car – we are finishing this!"

"Aw, Sammy, come on!" Dean protested.

"Don't you 'aw, Sammy' me!" he pouted, sticking his head through the open car window, "This is getting worse and you two are making me nauseous! Get out of the car!"

"I could heal your nausea if you like?" Castiel offered, slowly getting out of the car as Dean did.

"I don't need to be healed!" he snapped, "I need you two to be in your right minds."

"I apologise if our closeness is making you uncomfortable…" Castiel mumbled as they walked towards the shop.

"It isn't that." Sam answered, trying the door handle, it was locked. He broke out his lock-picking kit, getting to work on the door, "Like I have said, it is just that this curse is making you do this – it doesn't sit right with me." The door clicked, and they filed in, there was no one in the store, but as they crept towards the counter, they could hear Bo talking in the back room. They poised their guns as they approached. Sam nodded towards the door, "Let's fix this."

"Stand back." Dean said in a low voice, they moved out of the way as he slammed his boot into the door, busting it open. They charged in, the back area was a singular room with shelves and shelves of ingredients and a small wooden table in the middle.

Standing behind it was Bo. She looked up with wide frightened eyes, backing away from the table as the men fanned out, blocking her only exit. "What the fu—"

"Tell us how to stop the curse!" Sam yelled, cutting off her exclamation.

"W—what?" Bo replied, blinking at them with a vacant expression.

"Don't toy with us, lady!" Dean bellowed.

"The curse you put on my brother and our friend!" Sam shouted again, the cashier was shaking her head before Sam had finished the sentence, "How do we make it stop?!"

"Tell us honestly." Castiel almost snarled, his angel blade poised to strike as they cornered her.

"That—that love curse – the lure bag was in the shorter one's trench coat." Bo raised her hand and pointed at Castiel. Sam recognised what a lure bag was from research years ago, they were, as the name suggested, used to lure the target of a curse or spell to a certain person, place, or thing.

Uh-oh, Sam thought.

"We destroyed that!" Dean barked.

"Is there another one?" Cas snarled again, stepping forward and raising his blade.

"There—There was only one." She said calmly, the three hunters looked confused. Then she almost smiled in realisation, "Fellas… That spell only lasts twenty-four hours…"

There was silence.

"What?!"

"What?!"

"What?!"

All three of them responded in unison, Sam's response was on the verge of laughter, Castiel's shock, and Dean's sounded like he was about to cry. Dean glanced sideways at Castiel, feeling his entire body begin to heat up.

"That 'curse'," the witch started again, she almost had the nerve to sound impatient with her captors, "only lasts a day. It was made to help make someone realise their feelings, assist them in conveying them... The lure bag was only there to draw the attention of the enchanted – y'know, to make sure they pursue their soul mate? It casts a muted version of the spell over them too, but the recipients are only susceptible if there are underlying feelings…"

"You mean to tell us," Sam spoke softly, "That my brother has been running around for the last four days acting like he is dating my friend, without the involvement of witchcraft?!" his voice gradually became higher and higher as he spoke. "The holding hands, the little pecks, the cuddling?!" he was finally laughing too hard to be fully intelligible, "All Dean?!"

"Yes." The witch said coolly.

"This is the best thing that has ever happened to me." Sam bent over, resting his hands on his knees, trying to stop laughing. All this time he had thought it was against their better judgement, that a spell was forcing them to behave like this—but it wasn't!

"You bitch." Dean groaned at her, lowering his weapon and fighting every urge not to shoot his brother.

"Why would you take it into your own hands?" Castiel asked, "Without the consent of your targets."

Bo rolled her eyes, "If even one of you was against it, it would have had no effect."

"No effect?" the angel asked, bewildered.

"Zero – I am a matchmaker, not a monster."

"What about all the dead people who you cursed before your little chemistry experiment?" Dean almost yelled, fighting the butterflies in his stomach at the realisation that came with the matchmaker's explanation.

If even one of you was against it, it would have had no effect…

"That was a witch." Bo said, pursing her lips into a line, "A young witch, inexperienced. And a close friend," she took a breath, "Her ex-boyfriend had moved on with her high school best friend, and the other woman had brought her childhood home that she had been saving for since 2003… And she just killed them out of anger." Bo stood up straighter, "I couldn't have her running around killing people with ingredients from my family's shop, destroying people's lives like that! So, I lied to her about a spell, gave her a breed of flower – yarrow – that when boiled with a particular root, releases a poisonous gas, and well, I attended her funeral five days ago. When you showed up, I was sure that someone had figured it out… But you were still so lost." She was condescending now, even kind of smug.

"So, you have never killed anyone?" Sam asked.

"Aside from her? No." she cocked an eyebrow, "Kind of hard to be a matchmaker if you don't have a match to make. I need my targets to be alive."

"What about the yarrow at the other victims' residences?" Castiel asked, putting his blade away and tilting his head curiously. "Are you not the only stockist in this town? How are you connected to them?"

"They were both customers. Deanna had just gotten into a new relationship, she wanted to give it luck – so I gave her a bouquet of Angel's breath." Bo said, shrugging, "The woman who brought my friend's childhood home wanted to start trying for a family, the Angel's breath encouraged innocence and fresh life..."

"I should kill you right now." Dean snarled, he was sick of listening to her.

"You could," Bo let a smile crawl over her features, "but you won't. The spell is not reversable, but if you objected to the match – even a little – it would have ceased to have control… But seeing as it actually stopped working almost thirty-six hours ago…" She watched with glee has her words wreaked havoc across the faces of Castiel and Dean, she swung her arms casually, "Anywho! I have a date with my customers, can I…?" Dean and Sam looked between each other, Sam nodded, his lips still pursed into a straight line.

Moments later, they were ushered out of the shop and she waved them goodbye.

There was silence as the three men walked back to the Impala, Sam would occasionally glance between the pair, but it seemed that they were ignoring one another. They pulled up at the hotel, got out in silence and headed into the room, Sam took a slow breath, "So, I—"

"Can it, Sammy." Dean grumbled.

Sam held up his hands, "I was just going to say I am heading out for a jog, maybe a food run?" he looked between Castiel and Dean, "I am just going to pull on my sweats and then I will be gone for," he looked at his watch, "Let's say, an hour." He flicked his jeans and boots off and pulled his sweatpants and sneakers on, "Have a chat, don't kill each other, I'll be back later."

The door closed behind him, and the silence was deafening.

Castiel waited as long as he could, his back pressed against the far wall of the hotel room, trying to give Dean as much space as he needed, "Dean, I—"

"How could you not say anything, Cas?" he interrupted, glowering at the angel.

Castiel turned his head away from Dean's glare, he took a slow breath, "I have tried before, it never seemed like the right time. Something was always looming, and—"

"Seems like that would be an ideal time!" he yelled, "Every time something happened, I was left in the dark. Each time you were gone, or I was, neither knew what the other was thinking? Feeling? How fucked up is that?!"

"You're angry," Castiel mumbled, "I can understand—"

"Angry isn't the half of it!" Dean shouted back, "I have spent years being confused and feeling alone – you couldn't bring yourself to utter a few words?"

Castiel's blue eyes were alight, years? He thought, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. He blinked and pursed his lips, "You never said anything either." He whispered.

"Don't turn this back on me," he growled, defensive that he was called out on his cowardice, "Don't you dare place all the responsibility on me."

"Is that not what you are doing to me?" Castiel stood slightly straighter, he bit into his lower lip, trying to reign in his emotions. Dean's eyes flicked to the distraction, he exhaled sharply and turned away from him, shaking his head.

"Why didn't you just say something, Cas?" Dean questioned in a low voice, his eyes closed in frustration at the situation, embarrassment at being so blind to it all, and anxiety at what Castiel would reply.

There was a soft mumble, Dean peaked over his shoulder. The angel looked almost defeated, "I—I was never sure enough. I didn't want to potentially ruin our friendship."

Dean crossed his arms tighter over his chest, he sighed deeply, "This isn't exactly a great way to assist it."

Oh.

And there it was.

Dean had to stop himself at making a sound of realisation – he was such a coward. This he knew – when it came to expression, he was only brave when he thought he wouldn't be there to face the consequences, when he wouldn't be the one left behind to clean up the pieces or live with the admission.

If one of you was against it, it would have had no effect. He suddenly felt as though he knew all along, after all this time – the crushing relief when being reunited, the glances that turned into stares, the constant need to make sure the other is safe even if it means harming themselves. There was always something deeper than a friendship, a profound bond as Castiel has put it before, a deeper connection – Dean hated how sappy it all sounded, but what else could describe it?

All along all he needed was a push, and someone had finally given him one. The matchmaker was right, some people do need something to nudge them along, he only wished it didn't take a spell to have him realise. He felt his eyebrows pull together as he watched Castiel try his hardest to think of a way to fix the situation, the look of sorrow and forfeiture in his eyes was phenomenal – it tore its way through to Dean's soul. He thought momentarily about giving him a chance to say what he needed too, he shook his head.

No. Not this time.

"Ah, screw it." Dean grumbled, spinning on his heels and walking back towards the angel. He stopped when his toes were flush with his, he grabbed the front of Castiel's shirt and pulled his best friend forwards, their lips crushing together.

The reaction of Castiel was immediate, he groaned deeply – the noise muffled by Dean's lips, sending waves of excitement through the hunter. They fell back into the wall with a thump, Castiel's body was hard and strong under his white dress shirt, memories of their previous night as he playfully undid the buttons flooded his mind – tracing the planes of his chest, outline of his abdomen, the cut of his hipbones – he hoped that he never wore the bulky trench coat again.

He felt Castiel's hands trace up his arms and around his neck, pulling the hunter closer to him. It was long overdue, it was rough and heated, Dean moved his hands around to the angel's back, pinning him to his chest – holding him there, not wanting to let him leave. Their lips moved together as their kiss showed no signs of ending, desperation on the verge of lust. Years of pent up tension, years of lingering questions, years of uncertainty dissolved away. Dean's hands snarled in Castiel's hair, he tugged on the dark curls until he tilted his chin back, Dean's lips ran over his chin, along his jaw and started down his neck – Castiel's hands clawed at his shoulders, keeping him pressed as close to him as he could. "I'm sorry." He murmured against the angel's throat, travelling back up to capture his mouth with his own, he didn't need a response.

Castiel moaned softly as Dean's tongue flicked teasingly into his mouth, he felt a shudder course through his body as one of the hunter's hands snaked down his torso and rested at the base of his spine, grasping the material of his shirt into a fist. The sensory overload was almost too much for the angel, the feeling of Dean's burning mouth over his own, wreaking havoc when it dragged over his jaw, blazing down his throat, trailing under his ear; the strong touch of his hands as the kept him pinned in place, directed his body, pulled his clothing and hair; and the taste of the hunter on his tongue; the sounds of their groans, his whispered apology; his overwhelming scent, gun powder, musk, woodsy body wash, sweat, leather, even the faded scent of grease on his jacket – it was all so much to Castiel.

Finally, the kiss broke, Dean pulled back slightly, keeping their foreheads pressed together as they calmed their breathing. He couldn't believe how quickly his doubts, insecurities, and fear had evaporated into nothing, all this time he wasted dancing around his attraction when he could have owned up to it years ago, you could have had this years ago.

He took a slow breath, pulling back a fraction more so he could gaze into the eyes of the angel, "I want to be with you." He mumbled, blush coating his cheeks, prickling his skin.

"I would love for that to be." Castiel whispered, pulling the hunter in again, this time the kiss was slow, gentle, and was quickly interrupted.

"Ahem…" Sam said from the doorway, he was grinning like a Cheshire cat, "Forgot my wallet." reaching for it and grabbing it from the table, Dean and Castiel took half a step away from each other, both brilliant red in embarrassment. Sam laughed at them, "Well, I guess I should grab some pie to celebrate?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\