Castiel had developed a bad habit of falling.

The first time had been, of course, the "Big Fall", his fall from grace. It had been, to say the least, unpleasant; but looking back, it had only been the first of many.

The next time he fell, it was out of a tree. It wasn't far — maybe ten feet — but it was the shock more than anything else that had made it memorable. That, and it was the first time the strange tingling feeling had occurred. He sat, contemplating what the tingling could mean. (Was there, perhaps, something wrong with the chest of his vessel? had he not healed properly after his fall from grace?) Meanwhile, Dean sat laughing his proverbial ass off, Sam next to him looking concerned.

He started tripping over everything. Once, during a fight, his opponent (a vampire) somehow managed to trip him so fast that he had no time to even put out his hands to break his fall. He fell straight on his face with a loud crack. Dean, after ensuring the vampire was beheaded, helped him up carefully. (Was there something wrong with his arm now? Why was it tingling so?) Blood dripped across his lips, filling his mouth with a warm copper taste as he repeated over and over, "I'm fine, Dean. I'm fine."

Sam took a quick look. "It's broken," he declared. "We're going to have to set it."

"There is no need," Castiel told him. In a moment, using a bare minimum amount of grace, his nose was healed, though it still throbbed gently. Blood still dripped slowly off his chin.

"Here," Dean said, tearing a strip off his already ripped shit. He held it out, but Castiel only stared, unsure of what to do with it.

"Fine." Impatiently, Dean grabbed Cas's face (tingles like an electric shock maybe he didn't heal his nose properly) and began wiping away the blood like a mother would wipe food off her young child's face.

The blood mostly gone, Dean gave his face one last good swipe, and Castiel's breath caught in his throat as Dean's thumb accidentally snagged on his lower lip, tugging gently before releasing it. (Tingles centered in his lip spreading across his face down his neck warm feelings in strange places perhaps the tingles were why he kept falling, falling, falling…)

The first time Castiel sat through an entire car ride with the Winchester brothers and actually decided to use the door, he nearly re-broke his nose. The curb was further than he had anticipated, and his foot came down hard, throwing him off balance. He pitched forward, throwing out his arms only to be stopped by the warm solid mass that was suddenly in front of him. Strong arms wrapped around his (more tingling, maybe not because of the fall, but the landing…?) and held him up. Cas and Dean (and it was Dean, of course it was Dean it was always Dean) stumbled back a few steps due to the force of the fall. The tingling intensified as they stood chest-to-chest, Dean's arms still around him, green eyes wide with something akin to shock. Cas's heart beat faster as they stood, staring at each other, words lost.

Sam coughed and they broke apart faster than Castiel could eat a hamburger. A detached part of Castiel realized that the cough had soundly oddly like "No chick-flick moments".

"You okay, man?" Dean asked gruffly, eyes averted. Without waiting for a reply, he started walking.

The next time he fell it was out a window. A pagan god threw him hard and fast, and after he shattered the glass behind him, gravity took care of thee rest.

The fall was almost pleasant; it had been a long while since he'd felt so at peace, since he hadn't had to worry about anything (except, in this case, hitting the ground wouldn't he not have enough grace to heal his vessel shouldn't he stop himself?) A few stories flew past in this state before an image of Dean (of course it was Dean when wasn't it Dean it was starting to make sense) flashed in his mind and caused him to jolt back to reality. He arrived safely on the ground with help from wings only he could see. In the few seconds it took for him to get back to the brothers the fight had already ended.

"You okay, Cas?" Sam asked.

"I am fine," he answered, because physically (besides the small streams of blood across his face) he was fine, and he knew that was the purpose of Sam's question. Mentally, however, his thoughts were a mess as he finally began to realize what his body had been trying o tell him all along. (The tingles were a result of falling alright but not that kind of falling oh no a different kind of falling altogether but now the falling's stopped he's hit the ground and being there left him more scared than ever.)

Cas had thought that the realization would end his falling, but it seemed to do the exact opposite. He no longer tripped during hunts (he wouldn't allow himself the luxury of thinking about Dean while he was trying to prevent his vessel from being ripped apart), but in motel rooms, on streets, in diners, anytime things were calm and quiet and Castiel could study Dean at his leisure (though he was always looking straight ahead when Dean frequently glanced at him) he would fall. He didn't miss the worried looks Sam constantly sent him, but he refused to say anything about it, until one day in a diner, when he tripped getting into a booth and Sam got fed up.

"Come on, man, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"It is nothing," Cas told him, hiding his face behind a menu. (It was good camouflage despite the fact he never ate.)

Dean pulled the menu down with a scorching stare. "It's not 'nothing', Cas. You've been tripping for months. Angels don't trip.

Dean was, of course, correct. But normally angels didn't fall in love with humans, so he continued insisting, "It's fine, it's nothing important. There's no need to worry."

"Bullshit," from Dean.

"We're your friends, Cas, it's our job to be worried when you seem off," from Sam.

"I'll be fine, Sam," he repeated, though his eyes were on Dean.

Dean had his face carefully turned to look out the window. He spoken up since "We're your friends, Cas". He wished he could say something, something that wouldn't make Cas run away, something that wouldn't make Sam look at him in disgust, but he was too afraid to say it.

Because, while Cas had been figuring out the cause of his falling, Dean had been doing some falling of his own, which involved coming to the abrupt conclusion that his feelings about his angel friend were far from platonic. He'd realized how badly he needed Cas, how badly he wanted him (preferably in multiple positions sans clothes), and how hard it was to keep quiet about his feelings.

"Dean."

Cas's gravely voice brought him out of his head and back to the diner.

"Yeah, Cas?" He managed to say it calmly, despite his heart beating loudly in his ears.

"May I speak to you in private?"

"Sure," he said, Sam moving over to let him slide out of the booth.

Outside was warm, though it became almost uncomfortably so as Cas invaded his personal space.

"Is there something wrong, Dean? You appeared distracted in the diner."

"I'm fine, Cas, it's you I'm worried about." Almost involuntarily his arm found its way to Castiel's forearm. "Me and Sam," why had he mentioned Sam? "we just want to know what has you tripping so much."

"It is nothing of Sam's concern." The words slipped out of Cas's mouth before he could censor himself. A hot flush began to creep up his neck.

Dean, of course, jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

"Oh, so you're saying it's my fault?" Dean asked incredulously.

"To a degree, yes."

"Well then maybe I should leave, let you and Sam hunt by yourselves."

Somehow this had turned into an argument and Cas wasn't sure how. But Dean was hurting, and Cas didn't want that.

"But why would you do that, Dean?"

"Because I don't want to see you get hurt!"

"I can heal, Dean!"

They were both yelling now.

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is the point?"

"The point is I'm in love with you and I don't want to see you hurt!"

Almost immediately Dean went completely red.

"I—" he stuttered. "I mean—"

"There is no need to clarify what you mean," Cas said quietly, his head whirling.

For a heart-stopping moment, Cas's face remain impassive, and Dean thought he would become angry.

Why had he said that? Why had he ever thought that Cas would accept his feelings, that he would return them. What had possible made Dean think he could be good enough, worthy enough, for Castiel's love?

Meanwhile, Cas's body was filled with tingles. Every part of his vessel — his body, since Jimmy was no longer functioning — buzzed, and every particle of his grace urged him to touch Dean, to reassure him that this was fine, that it was good (but it was more than good is was so much more than good and tingles everywhere turning into warmth in his chest all through his torso and lower so so warm).

There was a long silence as bot tried to figure out what to say without ruining everything. Castiel, too new to this feeling; Dean, too afraid of what he thought of as further rejection.

Finally, having gotten fed up with waiting, Sam waled out of the diner to find them across the parking lot, close together and awkwardly staring at each other, both flushed. He walked over to them with a wry smile.

"Did you guys finally make out yet?" In startled unison they turned to face him.

"Dean loves me," Cas said faintly.

"I know," Sam told him matter-of-factly. Dean did a double take. "You two have been lusting after each other for a few months now."

"So wait," Dean said slowly. "You mean to tell me that Cas —"

"Yeah, Dean."

"For —"

"A few months now."

"You knew," Castiel stated.

"Yeah."

"Then why ask?"

"To get Dean to do something about it."

Finally, fed up with talking, Castiel turned to Dean.

"I'm sorry," he told him.

"For what?" Dean asked.

"I am inexperienced with these actions."

And with the question "What actions?" forming on Dean's lips, Castiel tugged him close and kissed him.

It was sloppy, and Dean had morning breath, and Cas still wasn't quite sure what he was doing with his tongue, but still it was perfect. Well, almost perfect, if it weren't for Sam's cry of "Eeew, guys, not in front of me!"

Needless to say, Sam and Dean got separate rooms that night.