Hope you guys enjoy this little snippet! Contains no plot from any season, just a fallen Castiel, a bunker, and two very worried Winchesters.
Day 1:
Sam
Sam looked at the passenger side of the car, which contained a rumpled and exhausted former angel.
"Ok, Cas?" he asked gently. Cas stirred, but didn't respond, apparently content to just stare despondently out the window at the passing scenery.
"Can you tell me about it?" Sam pressed, hoping to draw his friend out on what had happened since the brothers had lost track of him over a month ago.
Cas shrugged and continued to stare out the window. Sam waited, allowing the newly-human angel to gather his thoughts.
"Where's Dean?" Cas asked eventually, and Sam smiled internally. Cas might have lost his divinity, but some things clearly hadn't changed.
"At the bunker, he got back late last night," Sam sighed, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over him. Neither he nor Dean had really slept since Cas had disappeared. "I should've been back at the bunker too, but I got caught up. It was just dumb luck I saw you by the road."
When Cas didn't say anything further Sam kept talking, trying to draw the angel out of his silence. "In fact, if anyone should have found you, it should've been Dean. I don't think there's a road, hospital, diner, or motel within a thousand miles that he hasn't searched."
Cas winced, and Sam's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He'd tried to hold back the questions, to give his friend time to adjust to his change in circumstance, but it had been a long month. A long, difficult, frightening month.
"Why, Cas?" he finally burst out, unable to hold the words back any longer. "Why didn't you want to be found?"
Cas was silent for such a long time Sam thought he'd fallen asleep. But then the former angel spoke.
"Dean…" he whispered.
"Yes?" Sam pressed, wondering if Castiel had finally realized that he had feelings for his brother. He hoped so. The eternal Dean-and-Cas dance had worn thin for Sam years ago.
"He might… he might not want to be my friend anymore," Cas said wretchedly.
"What?" Sam spluttered, completely taken aback. "For the love of… why?"
"Because… you know…" Cas gestured at himself miserably. "I'm not… who I was. And I didn't… want him to see me like this."
Sam was flabbergasted. "Are you serious, Cas? That's why you've been hiding from us?!" The hunter cursed under his breath, glanced at his passenger, and added some blasphemy to the curses. Eventually he ran out of suitably profane words, and turned to stare at his friend.
"Cas, whatever you do, don't tell Dean that's the reason you didn't come home. He... he'll blame himself."
Cas hunched his shoulders at Sam's tone, but nodded. Sam continued to drive, grimly thinking that Dean wouldn't care if Cas was a two-headed purple lizard alien, he was smitten and nothing would ever change that.
But… Sam looked at Cas's miserable face and sighed. Cas didn't know that. And Cas was new to this, to feelings. If he truly didn't realize the reason he was so worried about seeing Dean again, then Sam owed it to him to be understanding, and patient. No matter how infuriating it was.
Dean. Sam's mind drifted to his brother, and he grinned in anticipation of his face when he walked through the door with Cas in tow. He'd tried to call, but Dean hadn't answered, he rarely did these days. His brother rarely did anything much anymore, except obsessively track Cas across the country. And drink. And get on Sam's nerves. And obsess some more.
Sam glanced at Cas again, and chuckled to himself. If Cas thought Dean wasn't going to be pleased to see him, well, he was in for one hell of a shock.
Dean
Dean paced up and down in front of the giant map pinned to the wall, then stopped and circled one of the few areas he hadn't searched yet. The radius he and Sam were searching was expanding every day, but the brothers were working under the assumption that Cas couldn't have gotten far. After all, he had no money, and no means of getting money other than the kindness of strangers… and Dean knew very well that not all strangers were kind. It was part of the reason they searched so desperately.
At that thought he glanced longingly at the bottle of whiskey on the table, but managed to stop himself from reaching for it. He knew he needed to have a clear head if he was going to get out there again as soon as Sam got back.
The hunter scrubbed his hands tiredly across his face, and combed his fingers through his hair, grimacing at how greasy it felt. He knew he should rest, and eat, and have a shower, but he couldn't bring himself to waste even that much time. Who knew what was happening to Cas while he was in here, and not out there? He needed to keep looking. Which he would, as soon as his Brother. Got. The Hell. Back!
Just as he thought that, the door opened, and Dean sighed in relief.
"Where have you been, Sammy?" he growled, not turning around. "Every second counts, you know that. Quick, get over here and show me where you've been."
"Maybe if you answered your phone once in a while," Sam said grumpily. Dean snorted, and started reaching for a marker when a husky voice cut through the silence, saying the words Dean had ached for every second of every miserable day, and every sleepless night.
"Hello, Dean."
Dean felt his heart stutter and stop, and his chest contract as if he'd fallen and all the wind had been knocked out of him. After taking a long moment to compose his face, he turned around.
Dean felt his whole world narrow to one thing, the former angel standing dejectedly at the bottom of the stairs. Vaguely he saw Sam grin, and wander off in the direction of the kitchen, but for once his brother's presence wasn't more than a faint blip on his radar.
Cas looked awful. His normally imperceptible stubble shadowed a face that was much leaner than the last time Dean had seen it, his hair was limp, greasy and slightly longer than usual, and the old, obviously stolen, clothes he was wearing were torn and stained. But one thing was the same. The eyes. Those piercing, cerulean eyes that had so captivated Dean, from the moment Castiel had first walked so arrogantly into his life.
As Cas started to shift uncomfortably under his stare, a look of almost-despair ghosting across his features, Dean came back to himself with a start.
"Cas!" he exclaimed, crossing the room in record time, grabbing his friend in a hug. It wasn't the hug of one friend to another, but for once Dean didn't care. He buried his face in Cas's neck, his right hand clutching a fistful of his shirt at the back, pushing the former angel into him with almost bruising force, his left hand snaking up to cradle his neck.
After a moment Dean felt Cas's arms come around him, trying to hug him back, shifting around, attempting to imitate the placement of Dean's hands. Dean smiled, and felt Cas finally relax into him. He flexed his fingers, just feeling the comforting warmth of the angel, (and Dean knew that, no matter what, he would always think of Cas as an angel), in his arms.
Eventually, reluctantly, he let go, holding Cas at arm's length, taking in again the grime and general disarray of his friend. He desperately wanted to ask where Cas had been, what had happened, why he'd left, but something on his friend's face stopped him.
"Let's go find you a room, and you can get cleaned up, ok, Cas?" Dean said instead, trying to sound casual, as if the last month had never happened. Cas nodded, relaxing when Dean didn't berate him, or ask awkward questions, and the hunter thought he saw tears standing in the former angel's eyes before he turned and started towards the stairs down to the bedrooms.
Sam came out from wherever he'd been lurking, clearly out of line of sight, but just as clearly not out of earshot, and handed Cas a bag of clothes and sundries as they walked off towards the rooms. Dean started to follow, but suddenly felt the room spin around him, and, alarmed, felt himself wobble on his feet. He shakily made his way over to a chair and sank down into it, putting his head between his knees.
"Get a grip, dammit!" the hunter muttered to himself, embarrassed, even though neither Sam nor Cas had seen his moment of weakness.
After several minutes of just breathing, trying to get his racing heart back under control, Dean felt something inside him, something wound incredibly tightly, finally break. The tension of the last month, all the stress and worry, the fear and grief, drained away, leaving him feeling like he'd just woken up from a long illness. Cas was safe. Cas was safe, and back at the bunker. It was freaking honest-to-god (a god Dean no longer believed in) miracle.
But then a new, different kind of tension gripped Dean. He'd been so caught up in his worry for Cas that he hadn't dared to think about what it would be like when he was back, and safe.
The hunter knew instinctively that now Cas was human he would soon figure out that Dean was in love with him... it was pretty damn obvious.… but not yet. Right now Cas was only just learning how to be human, and Dean didn't want to influence him, or accidentally take advantage of his naivety. The hunter had no real hope that Cas would ever return his feelings, and he knew he'd never forgive himself if, in the process of teaching Cas how to be human, he somehow forced the angel to think he had to reciprocate his affection.
With that in mind, Dean decided he had to change the way he acted around the ex-angel, and fast. He could no longer stare at him from across the room, or 'accidentally' touch his hand in passing. At least, not until his friend was settled and comfortable enough in his human skin to make his own, uninfluenced, decisions.
But that was a worry for another day. Right now all Dean needed to do was strap some steel to his spine, get out of the damn chair, and go check on his friend.
Dean knocked on the door, and after a scratchy 'come in' the hunter walked in, stopping when he saw Cas lying on top of the covers, his hair slightly damp, dressed in just a t-shirt and pajama pants. Dean caught his breath, overwhelmed, as always, by the sight of his friend's glorious blue eyes. But right now those eyes were filled with tears, and Cas looked so alone, so vulnerable, that Dean forgot all about his good intentions, all about the stern discussion he'd had with himself only moments earlier, and was across the room, laying down on the bed before he'd even had time to think.
They stared at each other across the pillows, until eventually Dean reached out a hand, and brushed a tear gently from his friend's face.
"What do you need, Cas?" he whispered. "Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep? Anything you want, Cas. Ask, and it's yours."
Cas thought for a second. "Hold me, like you did upstairs?" he asked eventually, hopefully. Dean caught his breath, and firmly wrestled his traitorous mind back under control. Of course Cas wanted that, desired that security. Everyone did, but humans had forgotten how to ask each other for that simple comfort, too afraid of rejection to take the risk. Apparently Cas had no such qualms. It didn't mean anything more. Of course it didn't. Did it?
"Of course, sweetheart," Dean whispered, and rolled onto his back, holding out a hand in invitation. Cas crossed the distance between them, the almost sinuous grace he'd possessed as an angel still present in his human form. Cas placed his head on Dean's chest, and the hunter wrapped his arms around the fallen angel, breathing in the smell of soap, and a faint, sea-spray scent that still hung over his friend, like a reminder of Heaven.
Dean found himself suddenly blissfully happy, for what seemed like the first time in his adult life. Gently he rubbed his hand in small, comforting circles on his friend's back, and turned his head to kiss Cas's hair, only managing to stop himself at the last possible moment.
Fortunately Cas didn't seem to notice his lapse in concentration, instead letting out a contented sigh, and falling immediately into a deep sleep.
Day 2:
Cas
Cas woke up, disoriented and anxious. Sleep was something he was still getting used to, especially the sluggishness with which his now-human mind made sense of his surroundings in the moments after waking. Almost instinctively he reached for his friend, whose touch had so soothed him, had taken away the worries and cares he had carried with him for the last month, whose hands had made him feel, finally, safe. But the bed was empty and cold, Dean apparently long gone. Cas caught his breath, feeling the loss like a blow, and fell back against the pillows. Maybe, after having time to think, Dean had decided he didn't like this new, human, Castiel after all.
With a sigh the former angel swung his feet over the edge of the bed, grabbed the change of clothes Sam had bought for him the previous day, and shuffled off to the bathroom.
After an irritating twenty minutes of attending to his mortal body's frustrating litany of needs, Cas padded barefoot into the corridor, and was struck immediately by the unmistakable smell of cooking food. He felt his human stomach cramp uncomfortably, making the rumbling sound he'd eventually come to associate with hunger. After a moment of hesitation… would Dean be happy to see him?...Cas's stomach made another insistent noise, and he gave up, knowing from bitter experience that the hunger would only get worse if he didn't give his body what it wanted.
As he climbed the stairs to the bunker's main area he heard Dean's voice and hesitated, uncertain. But then the smell of cooking food overcame any lingering doubt, and, steeling himself, he walked into the room.
"Cas!" Sam exclaimed, looking up from the table. "There you are. Come on over, Dean made pancakes!"
With a sinking heart Cas saw Dean's shoulders stiffen, and felt his own face fall in response. He started to walk into the room, but then stopped, suddenly overwhelmed by a surge of anxiety and hurt.
"Why weren't you there when I woke up? Was it something I did?" he blurted out, then caught his breath, horrified. He hadn't meant to say anything. Silently he cursed himself, this would never have happened when he was an angel. Where had all his control gone?
Sam looked surprised, then, glancing at Dean, angry. Dean looked like Cas had just punched him in the face instead of asking a question, and the ex-angel instinctively hunched in on himself in response.
"Oh, Cas," Dean breathed. "Oh hell! I'm so sorry, I didn't even think." Then the hunter glanced at Sam's outraged expression, and scrubbed his hands across his face the way humans did when they were upset, or annoyed.
"And before you start in on me, Sam, I know he's just become human. I only stayed with him until he fell asleep. Ok?"
"I didn't say anything," Sam said mildly, but Cas could see that wasn't entirely true, the brothers had had a conversation; it just hadn't been a verbal one. Cas realised with a start how much easier he now found it to see the strain on Dean's face, and the worry on Sam's, and wondered, for the first time, just what else he'd missed seeing when he was an angel.
"Cas," Dean said, and Cas's eyes moved reluctantly back to his friend's face. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't even have been in your room last night, it was… wrong of me. I left because I realized I crossed a line. There's… there's something you haven't figured out about me yet, and when you do, I don't want you to think… to think I was taking advantage."
Cas hadn't understood a word of that conversation, and looked at Sam for a cue as to how he should react. Sam wasn't angry anymore, instead he seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh, and had the fond, exasperated look on his face that Cas often saw when Dean had done something particularly endearing, or foolhardy, or both.
"Sam, what's he talking about?" Cas eventually asked.
Sam did laugh then, and raised an eyebrow at his brother. Cas looked back at Dean, who looked horrified.
"Sam, if you say anything, I'll murder you in your sleep," Dean said in a sweet, syrupy voice that belied the menace in his words. "Cas, no asking. That's cheating."
Cas opened his mouth to argue further, but then Dean passed him an enormous plate of pancakes, and the former angel promptly forgot all about the strange conversation.
Day 3:
Dean
Dean was making breakfast again, after Cas's rapturous enjoyment of the pancakes yesterday the hunter had decided that breakfast was going to be a family thing, something the three of them enjoyed together. That is, if anyone ever showed up to eat it.
Cas had been awake for hours, but hadn't made an appearance in the kitchen yet. Sam had shown up, asked Dean if he'd heard Cas prowling around the bunker all night (Dean had), and gone off to do some research for a hunt, leaving the hunter alone again, with only his racing thoughts for company.
Dean poked at the sausages in the pan, and sighed. He desperately wanted to go find Cas, to ask him what was wrong, but after his total lack of control the other night he no longer trusted himself. So, he was cooking again, something that seemed to summon the former angel as quickly as a prayer had in the old days.
And right on cue Cas appeared in the doorway, his clothes rumpled, dark circles under his eyes, his hair unbrushed, and looking completely, utterly gorgeous.
Dean mentally slapped himself. So much for keeping his thoughts under control.
Then he noticed something else.
"Cas?" he asked, trying hard to keep a straight face, and failing.
"Yes?" the former angel replied, warily.
"Do you realize your shirt is on inside out? And backwards?"
Cas looked down at himself in bemusement. "There's a right way to wear it?"
Dean heard a burst of laughter come from the other doorway, and looked over to see his brother clinging to the doorframe, laughing himself stupid. He rolled his eyes.
"Not helping, Sam," he said, feeling the laughter bubble up in his own chest, and fighting hard to contain it. It wasn't so much the ex-angel's inability to master simple human things that was funny, but the look of baffled irritation on his face. Dean took a deep breath, after all, he was a Winchester. He'd been to Hell. He was a serious hunter who killed angels and demons on a regular basis. He didn't giggle.
But then Cas looked at them both, narrowed his eyes, and sniffed, a sound that contained so much exasperation that Dean finally gave in to the inevitable, feeling helpless tears of mirth run down his face.
Eventually Cas turned and started to stalk huffily out of the room, and Dean recovered enough to lean forward and grab his arm.
"I'm sorry, Cas," he said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. He reached out and took hold of the tag on the shirt, pulling it away from Cas's skin so he could see it.
"See this? It's meant to go at the back of the shirt, and on the inside."
Cas frowned. "So, even humans need a label to tell them how to put their clothes on?"
Dean and Sam sobered instantly, and looked at each other, thinking through the ex-angel's logic.
"Uh, well, there are… other ways… you know what, Cas? Sure. Yes. We do," Sam said eventually.
Cas sniffed again, this time in a superior sort of way, and took the hem of his shirt in his hands, pulling it over his head. Dean felt his jaw drop, immediately hypnotized by the lean, hard muscle and smooth, ivory skin that Cas had kept hidden for so long under so many layers. As Cas fussed with the shirt, muttering something that sounded like 'I don't see why it matters' Dean continued to stare, totally aware that he was doing it, but also utterly unable to look away. Then things got immeasurably worse.
"Why do I have to wear clothes anyway?" Cas frowned, as he put the shirt back on the right way. "It's not cold in here. I don't like clothes. They stop me from feeling the air on my skin."
Dean's brain short-circuited, and didn't come back online until Sam stepped in front of him, reaching out to help Cas straighten his shirt, obviously giving Dean a moment to compose himself. Dean was both grateful and annoyed, and turned back to the stove to cover his confusion.
"It's a human thing, Cas," Sam said. "There are reasons we wear clothes that have nothing to do with comfort, or temperature."
"Like what?" Cas asked, grumpily.
"Uh, I'll let Dean explain that one to you," Sam said, and Dean could hear the grin in his voice. The bastard.
"Awesome," Dean muttered. Then, louder, "Some other time, Cas. Sam and I have to go out today. Just a salt-and-burn job. We won't be gone long."
"Can I come?" Cas asked, eagerly.
"No!" Dean and Sam chorused in unison, then shared a guilty look at Cas's crestfallen expression.
"Cas, you're not recovered from… you know…" Dean said gently.
"My fall," Cas said, bitterly. "You can say it, Dean. I know what happened. I was there."
Dean glanced at Sam, and Cas caught the look, misinterpreting it completely.
"So, I'm not useful anymore, now I can't fight, or heal, or… or fly… or… anything, is that it?" Cas half-shouted, seeming on the verge of tears.
Sam moved to hug their friend, but Dean stopped him with a small shake of his head. The two of them had talked about this, about Cas's impending grief over everything he'd lost. Cas didn't have an outlet for his anger, except for the two of them, and they'd decided that when it happened, they'd be whatever Cas needed them to be. If he needed to yell, and scream, and cry, they'd listen. If he wanted to get away from them for a while, they'd allow that, with strict provisos. If he needed to punch something, well, they'd go find Crowley and stick him in the demon manacles, and kill two birds with one stone. Whatever he needed, they would be there. Just like Cas had always been there for them.
"I was an Angel, you know," Cas cried out. "I don't need to be looked after! I've been alive for centuries. Millennia! I was there when the first fish crawled out of the water. You don't need to protect me. I can help!" He stopped then, breathing hard, and the brothers waited in silence. When it became clear that Cas had said all that he was going to say for now, Sam nodded to Dean, letting him take the lead. The hunter took another moment to compose his thoughts, this wasn't something he wanted to fuck up.
"Cas," Dean said eventually, as gently as he knew how, "of course you can help. We're only human too, you know, and we do alright for ourselves. You'll always be part of the team. But you're not coming out with us, not yet."
The tears started to fall then, and Dean felt his heart twist in his chest at his friend's distress. He struggled, trying to find the right words.
"Cas, you're our friend, our family, not just our hunting partner, and this is what family does. We look after each other. You've been through something unbelievably traumatic. Humans need time after trauma. You need time. Time to rest, and heal. And… and time to learn how to put your shirt on properly."
Cas smiled then, a small, shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless, and this time when Sam moved to hug him Dean didn't stop him. Sam had always been the more physically affectionate of the two of them, so it seemed natural for Sam to be the one to comfort their friend, although the hunter was surprised at the small prick of jealousy he felt at the easy, familiar way his brother and Cas held each other.
But, as he turned back to the stove, and the forgotten breakfast, Dean caught a glimpse of Cas's eyes staring at him from over his brother's shoulder, and wondered briefly, with a guilty kind of hope, if Cas had hoped for Dean to be the one to comfort him.
Day 4:
Dean
Cas had disappeared into his room after breakfast the previous day, and both brothers had been sternly rebuffed when they went to check on him. But, after another sleepless night of listening to Cas pace around the bunker Dean had decided to go and talk to his friend, whether he wanted to be talked to or not. It hadn't gone well. Then Sam had tried, and that hadn't gone well either.
The brothers hadn't witnessed Cas's fall from Grace, just the aftermath, and Cas hadn't volunteered any information about it. Even Crowley, who usually couldn't keep his mouth shut, had refused to be brought out on the subject. Dean and Sam both now believed Crowley had been directly involved, but couldn't prove it one way or another.
Still, Dean fantasized every night about finding Crowley, and repeatedly hitting him with some kind of iron bar. Or brick. Or any heavy object really, until the demon came clean about what had happened. And then he might hit him some more, just to make a point.
As Dean allowed his thoughts to wander down that dark path, he suddenly wondered if thoughts of revenge were what was keeping his angel awake in the middle of the night.
So, against his better judgement, he decided to ask him.
Slowly he wandered up the stairs and into the living area, his eyes drawn immediately to the fallen angel. It was still vaguely jarring to see his friend without the trench coat and tie that had seemed as much a part of him as the vessel he inhabited, but Dean certainly appreciated the way Cas's new clothes fit him. And then the hunter saw Cas's face, which had such a lost, heartbroken expression that Dean forget about everything, except the burning need to make his friend's pain go away.
"Cas…" Dean started, walking slowly forwards. The ex-angel turned to stare at him, a wild look in his eyes. Dean swallowed hard.
"Cas," he tried again, deciding to go for the direct approach, "What is it? Why can't you sleep?" Dean caught himself about to call his friend 'sweetheart' again, and viciously swallowed the word back down, ashamed of his lack of control. "Cas, you need to sleep. It's not healthy to be awake all the time."
Cas's eyes darkened with sorrow, and Dean felt his heart break a little more. Quite apart from the brother's attempts to talk to him early in the morning, Cas had also broken down a few times after breakfast; sometimes he yelled at them, sometimes he cried, sometimes he stared off into the distance like a zombie. Dean knew the signs well enough. Grief, and something else. Something dark, and very human.
After a moment that stretched into eternity, Dean decided his friend wasn't going to answer. And that was ok. Cas would talk in his own time. And then the former angel spoke, and Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
"Whenever I close my eyes, I see it happening," Cas said at last, head bowed. "I feel my Grace ripped away, smell my wings burning. I relive it over, and over, and over. Why can't I make it stop?"
Shit, Dean thought immediately, PTSD. They'd suspected of course, but they hadn't known for sure. Cas needed to talk to someone, but who could he talk to? No one would understand, would, in fact, think he was crazy and lock him away. Over Dean's dead body, of course.
But Dean would try to understand. And keep trying. And most importantly, he'd be there. He took a few steps forward and instead of saying anything just held out his arms. Cas walked into them without hesitation, laying his head on Dean's shoulder, his arms wrapped loosely around the hunter's waist.
They stood that way for a long, long time.
Day 5:
Cas
The last few days had been eye-opening for the former angel. Cas wasn't sure what it was, but there was something different about the way Sam interacted with him to the way Dean did. He'd never noticed before; as an angel the human's ways had been so alien to him that nothing they did really made that much sense. But now he was starting to notice things. The way Dean would look at him for slightly longer then Sam would. The way Dean's eyes changed when they touched. The difference between a hug from Sam to a hug from Dean. And his own reaction to them both. The way Sam's presence filled him with feelings of happiness and security, and the way Dean's presence filled him with happiness of a different sort, and also with a tense anxiousness that he couldn't really describe.
More and more often he found himself making excuses to get a hug from Dean, or to stand close enough that their hands touched. He was also becoming increasingly aware of more of those unspoken conversations between the brothers, and a growing sense of amused exasperation from Sam. Cas was at a loss to explain any of it, he just knew what he saw. It was like the jigsaw puzzle the brothers had on the coffee table, the one with the pieces missing.
He looked at the spot where Dean had held him the previous day, remembering how the hunter's strong, comforting arms had quieted the racing, uncontrollable thoughts, reducing them from a shout to a whimper. And wondered if he dared ask Dean to stay with him at night again, to keep the nightmares at bay. Was it the 'personal space' rule that had made his friend so uncomfortable last time? Or some new, human rule he hadn't yet grasped?
There were so many 'human rules' about what could be said, and when, and what tone of voice to use, and when to smile, and how to dress, and when to eat, and when to sleep, and how/when to touch, and so on that Cas had begun to wonder how anyone ever got anything done. Surely it would be easier if everyone just did what they had to without worrying about what anyone else thought, like angels did.
But then Dean was walking across the room, and Cas forgot about everything else. For some reason Dean's physical body had become suddenly fascinating to the ex-angel. Always before he'd been drawn to blazing light of Dean's soul, had often relived the feel of it as he'd dragged the hunter from the fires of Perdition. But now, Dean's body was somehow equally captivating. The breadth of his shoulders, the shift of muscles under his hands when they hugged, the hard, sinewy length of him. Involuntarily he found his eyes wandering up and down the hunter's form, as though trying to memorize it.
And, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam getting up to leave, as he often seemed to do when the three of them congregated together.
"Sit, Sam," Dean ordered. Sam sat with a resigned sigh.
"That part for the Impala came in, I'm going to go get it. I won't be long, can you watch…" Dean stopped as Sam made frantic hushing gestures, and glanced quickly behind him to where Cas was sitting.
"Uh, right," Dean said quickly, "Umm, yeah, Sam, can you watch… the bunker for me? I'll only be gone a few hours."
"Can I come?" Cas asked, and Dean hesitated, but Sam broke in before he could say anything.
"Actually, Cas, I need your help with something here today," he said smoothly. Dean looked immediately suspicious, and Cas felt a small prick of disappointment that he quashed ruthlessly. Sam was always there for him, and if his friend needed his help he wouldn't say no. Even if it did mean missing out on a car ride with Dean.
Cas thought Dean looked disappointed too, but couldn't be sure. He found Dean much harder to read than Sam, who wore his heart on his sleeve (that expression had been explained to Cas the previous day, and although he still didn't quite understand it, he'd decided he liked the sound of it).
"Of course, Sam," he said, and silently congratulated himself on managing to sound happy even when he wasn't. Projecting an emotion you weren't actually having was a skill that was taking him some time to master.
"Ok," Dean said, hesitating, still looking at Sam suspiciously. "Keep out of trouble, you two."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're implying," Sam sniffed, and Dean replied, so low that Cas had to struggle to hear, "You know exactly what I mean, Sammy."
Then Dean left, and Sam grinned the grin Cas had seen on his brother Gabriel's face many times. A smile that promised mischief.
Sam:
Sam wasn't stupid enough to say anything to Cas about his brother's feelings, he valued his life too highly for that, but the hunter had other plans. Little things that may, or may not, work, but would certainly beat sitting around waiting for Hell to freeze over, which it certainly would before Dean ever made an unprompted move on the fallen angel, or vice versa. And now Dean had finally left him alone with said angel, it was time to put one of those plans into action.
"What do you need my help with, Sam?" Cas asked, standing in the kitchen, looking a little lost. Sam knew he'd upset Cas by asking him to stay behind, his friend was still as easy to read as an open book, but he hoped what they did next would make up for it.
"I'm going to teach you how to make a pie," Sam said, gesturing at the stack of ingredients he'd gone out and bought the previous day. Cas perked up immediately.
"Pie? That's Dean's favorite!" Cas exclaimed. Sam smiled fondly at his friend.
"Yes, Cas, it is. And that's why we're going to make it. A surprise."
The childlike glee on Cas's face caused a lump a rise in Sam's throat. Cas deserved this happiness, and so did Dean. But, although he loved his brother dearly, Sam had no illusions that Dean was any more emotionally intelligent than a brick, and Cas was worse by far. Which was why he was, against his better judgement, doing everything he could think of to nudge them in the right direction.
It took far more time than Sam had anticipated to get everything done, Cas had to be taught from the ground up, how to use a stove, how to boil water, what salt and sugar were and why they should never be confused, the works. By the end of their lesson the former angel was covered in flour and other unidentifiable foodstuffs, and the kitchen looked like a bomb had hit it, but the look of intense satisfaction on Cas's face made it worth every second.
They'd just pulled the pie out of the oven when they heard the bunker door open. Cas rocked up on the balls of his feet, looking suddenly flustered.
"He's back!" Cas exclaimed, far louder than necessary, then pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide. Sam swallowed a laugh; seeing Castiel genuinely excited was such a new experience he felt momentarily giddy, swept along by his friend's obvious joy.
"Yes," Sam said, dryly. "I do believe he is. Why don't you ask him to come in to the kitchen? I'll just finish the last of the cleaning."
"Dean!" Cas yelled immediately, dashing out of the room.
"What?!" his brother yelled back, and Sam could hear the fear in his voice, something only a brother would notice.
"I didn't tell him, you idiot," Sam muttered to himself, reaching up to wipe the last of the flour from the ceiling. "But you should," he added, looking at the dessert that was made with very little skill, but an ocean's worth of love and enthusiasm.
Cas returned, dragging a bemused Dean by the hand. He made to snatch up the pie, but Sam grabbed his arms immediately, stopping him just in time. Cas turned to him with a look of utter betrayal, until Sam pressed some oven mitts into his hands.
"It's hot, Cas. Remember, we talked about that."
Cas nodded gratefully, he'd been burned once already and it hadn't been a pleasant experience for either of them. He quickly pulled on the mitts, and picked up the pie, holding it out for Dean to admire.
"I made you a pie, Dean!" Cas beamed, his face alight with happiness. Dean looked at the pie, and back up at Cas's shining eyes, a strange look on his face.
"You made this for me?" Dean asked, his voice holding so much tenderness Sam felt almost misty-eyed. "Cas, that's… that's so awesome! It looks amazing! We should eat it right now!"
Cas put down the pie, practically glowing with pride, and reached out for a hug, something he'd taken to doing more and more often lately, to Sam's amusement. Dean returned the hug with interest, and Sam turned away, pretending to get forks and plates, but really just giving the two of them a moment of privacy. And also making sure Dean didn't see his smug, self-congratulatory grin.
Day 6:
Sam
Sam couldn't believe the pie trick hadn't worked. Oh, certainly, his brother seemed to be losing some of his iron control, but after years of watching Dean and Cas stare intensely at each other across rooms, and in cars, and across tables, and even in dungeons… in fact anywhere the two of them happened to be together at any given moment… seeing both of them still so completely oblivious to the feelings of the other had finally snapped something in him. So instead of sensibly letting things cool off for a while, he'd decided to try something else, before he ended up grabbing both of them and yelling "Just KISS already!" or something else that was likely to get him killed.
So while Dean was out teaching Cas how to buy food from a supermarket, Sam went into his secret stash of books and DVDs, and snuck into Cas's room, sneaking out less than a minute later, silently congratulating himself on his cunning plan.
Day 7:
Cas
Cas had, for once, fallen asleep immediately the previous evening, worn out from yet another day of trying to learn how to be human, and another day of wanting desperately to be near Dean, a yearning, which had always been strong as an angel, that was now overpowering as a human. The need to touch Dean, to feel his skin, to see his smile, to make him laugh, to just be near him, was baffling, and although Cas often caught Dean looking at him the way he had always done when he was an angel, he was now also deeply aware of a gulf between them, a chasm he didn't know how to cross.
Grudgingly he sat up, rubbing at eyes that felt gritty from yet another night of tossing and turning. He knew the brothers wouldn't be up yet, so he went to turn on the small TV in his room. He'd quickly discovered that although he didn't understand half of what happened in any of the shows, he still enjoyed watching them, and had learnt a lot from the small human interactions documented in them.
As he reached for the remote he saw something that hadn't been there before, a DVD sitting on top of the player. Cas picked it up, looking curiously at the cover.
"'Love Actually'," he muttered, opening the case, and gingerly removing the disc. "Actually what? That doesn't make any sense."
After a moment of trying to remember how to use the strange machine he finally got it to work, and sat back to watch the movie.
Several of the stories in the movie caught Cas's attention, but it was one story in particular that captivated him. The story revolved around a man, a writer, who went to stay in a country where he didn't speak the language, and met a young woman. The writer, and the girl, couldn't understand each other, but seemed able to communicate by looks, and small touches. It reminded Cas sharply of himself and Dean, especially the way they gazed at each other.
As the movie progressed Cas felt something stir inside himself, something like hope. But still, still he was missing something. What was it about these two that was so fascinating? He found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward in anticipation, his heart breaking when the man left for his home country, then lifting as he came back to see the girl again.
And then they kissed.
"Oh," whispered Cas.
Dean
Dean looked up to see Cas striding into the room, an intent look on his face that had all the hairs on his body standing up.
"Cas?" Dean asked cautiously, seeing out of the corner of his eye Sam look up, and quickly smother what looked suspiciously like a guilty smile.
"You love me," Cas announced, and Dean nearly fell over backwards.
"Son of a bitch," Dean swore, glaring at Sam.
"You shouldn't talk about mom like that," Sam said with a grin, and as Dean felt his lips start to twist into a snarl his brother raised his hands in an 'I didn't say anything' gesture, and wisely stood up, sidling quickly out of the room.
Dean glared after his brother's back, avoiding Cas's eyes, trying to think. But it was too late. This was the moment he'd both hoped for, and dreaded. And despite thinking about it almost constantly for the last week, the hunter found himself woefully unprepared now the moment had actually arrived.
Eventually he wrenched his head back to look into Cas's shining eyes, and all thought of protesting, or lying, or anything else went straight out the window. Only the truth would do for this moment.
"Yes, Cas. I do. Of course I do. From the very first day. How could I not?"
Dean drew in a deep breath, about to say something along the lines of 'I'll always be your friend, above anything else' but then, suddenly, his arms were full of fallen angel, and soft, pink lips were pressed determinedly to his own. After a couple of seconds in which Dean was so overcome by emotion he thought he might actually die from it, Cas pulled back, looking anxiously into his eyes.
"What?" Dean spluttered, completely and utterly unable to form a more coherent sentence.
Cas bit his lip. "Did I do it wrong? That's how they did it in the movie…"
Dean wondered briefly what movie Cas was talking about, but that was the very least of his concerns with Cas sitting on his lap, pressed up against him, his face so close they were breathing the same air. Dean blushed furiously as he felt his body react in a totally predictable way, and Cas smiled shyly, although Dean wondered just how much the ex-celestial being knew about human… relationships.
Dean coughed. That was an issue for the future. Right now all that mattered was that Cas had kissed him!
"Uh… that was perfect, Cas," he whispered, finally. "But, you know, you don't have to kiss me, if… if it's not what you want."
Cas looked confused. "But, I do want to!" he exclaimed. "I love you too, Dean. I didn't realize it, of course, I didn't know what I was feeling. But when they kissed I knew; I knew I wanted to kiss you. And that you wanted to kiss me too!"
Cas looked so proud of figuring out Dean's feelings that he almost laughed, but then his brain caught up to the rest of the conversation.
"Wait, Cas. You… you love me?"
Cas smiled again, and it wasn't the small smile Dean had become used to seeing from Castiel, the Angel of the Lord, or even the more open, joyous smile of a human Castiel. It was a knowing smile, and Dean stilled, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Cas gazed into his eyes for a moment that seemed to last an eternity, and in those eyes Dean saw an infinity of love, and desire, and a world of ancient secrets that he now knew would never leave, even though Grace no longer blazed behind those eyes. Then the former angel reached out a hand, and placed it on his shoulder, the way he had that day long ago, in the depths of Hell.
"Of course, Dean," Cas whispered. "From the very first day. How could I not?'