AN: I don't own shit
It's a Shame
Love is a lot of things. It's hurt and comfort, yeah, but under the surface its so much more. It's saftey. A promise. Its soup when you're sick, it's a cup of coffee every morning. It's the bed head and rumpled clothes the morning after.
For Dean Winchester, love was commitment.
The older Winchester had known he was batting for both teams since he was in high school. Over the years he had a couple of one night stands with some pretty good looking fellas, but he found that it was just easier to hook up with chicks. There were less stares and not as many questions.
He thought about telling Sam a couple of times, but he could remember a day when he and his dad were at some hole in the wall diner a few nights after Sam had taken off for Stanford. And Dean didn't really know if it was the past couple of sleepless nights or the smell of hard liquor on his fathers breath, or even if it was just the wound from Sam leaving, still raw like someone had poured salt on it and rubbed it in. But a couple of nice looking ladies had walked past them holding hands, giggling at the whispered words and inside jokes, and John had glared at them with a burning passion. Shortly after, John slapped his money on the table and muttered a stern let's go before heading out the door. Dean remembered that neither him or John had eaten much of their food.
He decided he wasn't gonna tell Sam.
He didn't know when he caught himself looking ar Cas' eyes or his lips, and even the different strands of hair laying flat. Maybe it was when they got back from Purgatory, or hell, maybe even the night where he tried getting Cas laid before the world ended.
But Cas probably didn't want anything to do with Dean. It was a feeling he had deep in his gut; in his heart.
Because of Dean he lost his Garrison. His home, his family. Why would he ever want to be with someone like him? He may have saved the world a couple of times, but he was nothing but a grunt. And why Cas ever thought differently was beyond him.
When Cas had sex with that one chick whose name he forced himself to forget, a part of his heart felt like it had been burned. Like Cas was cheating on him with some broad who ended up killing him. But they weren't even a couple, so he didn't say a word.
He noticed himself standing a little closer to Cas than necessary whenever he stayed at the Bunker, and he would try to graze the angels arms with his if they were passing each other. He always made a little extra coffee, leaving the sugar out just for him, and he always made sure Cas' favorite mug was washed. And if anybody noticed the full jar of fresh honey Dean had spent forty-five minutes picking out for Cas, nobody said anything.
He never noticed that Cas looked at him the same way, or that Sam found out long ago and was just waiting for Dean to come out on his own. He just kept his thoughts to himself, loving Cas at night in his head. Loving him in the evening on movie nights, wondering just how soft that shock of black hair really was. Every morning when he would wordlessly slide Cas the sugar, wanting to give him a kiss and taste the coffee on his chapped lips. He kept those dreams close to his heart behind walls that were stronger than the Bunker's.
And yeah, sometimes the starred at Cas for a little to long. But how could he not when a guy like him had all of the sky's blue in his eyes in a cloudy day? And they were full of honesty and loyalty and some sort if innocence he didn't know a century old being could have.
There was something he noticed though, about Cas. Whatever the set his mind to, he was comitted to the end. And that's when Dean realized it.
For Dean, love was the angel, Castiel.
Its a shame he would never tell him, though.