Dean hated that Sam always remembered his birthday. It was just another day. There was nothing special about it. They still had a job to do, and celebrations just got in the way. It was different when it was Sam's birthday, because it was Sam. He liked doing the family thing. But Dean just wanted to let it slip by quietly, like it was like any other day. Because it was.

He would groan and roll his eyes every year when Sam thrust a crudely wrapped gift at him, but then he'd see the way Sam looked at him and he'd play the part of happy brother because it was what Sam needed to see. Really, another year older meant another year closer to death. A death he wouldn't come back from, this time. He was getting old and, though he'd never admit it, could feel it in his bones every day when he rolled out of bed.

He may have lost a degree of flexibility as he neared middle-age, but he hadn't lost his good looks or his charm. He caught the eye of many girls in the bars they visited, but each time he tried to return their flirtatious smiles he felt like a teacher leering at his students. They were soft and warm and beautiful, whereas he was old and scarred and sagging around the middle (which he could live with – what he couldn't live without was a good pie every now and then).

As long as he was still alert and quick on his feet he could deal with being old and lonely. Even if he couldn't pick up a girl any more he still had his right hand and motel porn, even if it wasn't the same. He couldn't remember the last time he'd got laid – now that was a depressing thought. Dean Winchester and sex should go together like pie and ice cream.

Mmm, pie…

He could take all of that – the tired muscles and creaking bones, the infrequent sex, and the sadness that accompanied old age after a life spent with only your brother and a fallen angel for company – but now Sam had educated Cas about the tradition of gift-giving on birthdays and, though Dean had protested until he was blue in the face that he didn't need or want anything, Castiel was adamant that he was going to buy Dean a present; because Dean was "his best friend and the closest thing to family he had, now." Family. After that, Dean could hardly refuse him.

And so Dean had lain awake all night, wishing from the moment the clock had chimed midnight that it was tomorrow already so his birthday could be over for another year. When 6am rolled around, he tossed back the sheets and padded softly through to the bathroom. It was his birthday – Sam couldn't kill him today if he used up all the hot water!

He showered for a long time, letting the hot water ease his aching muscles and alleviate some of the tension he held in his shoulders, and he stayed under the spray until the water ran cold. Then, buck naked, he shaved in front of the steamed up mirror. He didn't need to see his reflection – didn't want to, even – but as he ran a hand over his smooth cheeks, already missing the slight prickle of stubble, something made him wipe a single streak through the steam and study himself for the first time in a long time.

The first thing he noticed was that he looked dead. His gaze was hard – his brow almost constantly furrowed as he bore the strain of their lives – and his eyes were empty and sad, surrounded by more lines than he could count. Laughter lines, Sam would call them. Dean scoffed. When was the last time either of them had laughed?

Creaking bedsprings on the other side of the door alerted Dean to the fact his brother was now awake, so he exited the bathroom to a cry of, "DEAN! It is too early and I am not hung-over enough to be faced with that as soon as I open my eyes!"

Dean chuckled. He'd forgotten his wet towel was still in a heap on the bathroom floor. His smile faded, as he realised that was yet another sign of old age. "Whatever, bitch. Just shower already so we can hit the road."

"Jerk," Sam shot back.

Dean gave his shirt from yesterday a quick sniff, before hauling it roughly over his head. They hadn't had any spare time to do laundry lately, so if it didn't smell he was going to class it as clean.

"Dude, no!" Sam exclaimed.

"Quit your whining, Sammy!"

"Well we aren't leaving until you've opened your presents and the three of us have enjoyed a birthday breakfast, Dean." Sam declared, and slammed the bathroom door.

Dean pulled a face, but burst out laughing a minute later when Sam screamed.

"Oh, yeah – I used up the last of the hot water, – hope you don't mind!"

"Gurgh!" was all the response he got.

Dean chuckled, but as he turned back to his bed he was faced with Cas. Quite literally – there was an inch between their noses, if that.

"Personal. Space."

"Oh, yes," Castiel said, stepping back. "My apologies."

"I'm gonna go cross-eyed if I have to keep looking at you that close," he joked as he finished getting dressed, aware of Castiel's eyes on him the whole time. Whatever. He wasn't ashamed of his body, even if he was carrying a bit of extra weight around his midriff.

Finally he turned to Cas, who was looking at him awkwardly.

"Spit it out, man."

"Do I wish you a happy birthday now, or wait until Sam is with us?" he enquired.

"Is it Sam's birthday?"

Castiel frowned. "No."

"Then you can say it now."

Castiel smiled. "Happy birthday, Dean."

"Thanks, Cas."

The angel held out a small bag, and Dean groaned in reluctance. "You know you didn't have to get me anything, right?"

"Of course I did – it's what you do for the people you… care about."

Dean didn't notice Cas's slight hesitation, because he was too busy making shooing motions with his hands, urging him to put the bag asway. "That can wait until Sam is here – if I open it without him he'll bitch about it from now until next year."

"Bitch about what?" Sam interrupted as he re-entered the room, hiw towel wrapped firmly around his waist.

"That I opened Cas's present when you were in the shower."

"You did what!"

"No, I'm telling Cas why we're waiting for you. So get your ass in gear so we can get this over and done with already."

Sam looked at him sadly. "Alright."

Dean rolled his eyes again. "I'm just really fucking hungry, okay?" Damn it, the things he did for his little brother.

But it was worth it when Sam grinned at him. "Just give me a minute."

Two minutes later – for Sam had to brush his hair, the girl – Dean was opening a large object wrapped in yesterday's newspaper.

"Fuel for my baby!" he grinned. "Such a surprise," he added sarcastically, but with a smile.

"You don't sound surprised," Castiel observed.

Dean and Sam shot each other knowing glances. It wasn't Castiel's fault that he didn't know Sam gave him some gas every Christmas and birthday, along with something else. He now turned to that something else, which turned out to be a new AC/DC t-shirt.

"Because I know you love it, and your last one got shredded when you—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean cut him off before Cas found out how much of an idiot he'd been on their last hunt. "Thanks."

Dean turned to Cas, who was frowning slightly.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not entirely sure my gift to you is appropriate, now," he answered hesitantly. "I think perhaps I should get you something else."

"Just give it here, Cas."

Castiel reluctantly handed over the bag and Dean tipped it upside down. A small glass vial on a leather strap fell into his waiting hand, and he sucked in a breath as the contents began to glow.

He knew what this was.

Didn't he?

He'd seen this before.

His eyes flicked up to Sam who looked as stunned as he felt, so he yeah, he knew what this was. "Cas…" he started thickly.

"I know. It's inappropriate." Castiel stated. "I'm sorry."

Sam had been making digs about the way Castiel felt about Dean for months, now, but Dean had always dismissed the idea. Sam knew better than to ask how Dean felt about said angel, but it hadn't stopped him researching into angel/human romances. Dean licked his lips. For an angel, to give someone else a spark of their grace was the most intimate act they could perform. And Sam hadn't come across any instances before of an angel choosing a human as a mate. Angels were eternal - unless slain by an angel blade - whilst a human's body decayed and died. Christ, Dean had never felt older than he had right now and a part of him wanted to tell Cas to take it back, that he was crazy for choosing Dean when there were so many people out there better than him, but he couldn't hurt Cas that way.

Castiel was still looking at Dean, like a man on death row awaiting execution.

"No, Cas, it's…" For once in his life Dean was speechless.

Castiel's eyes were so full of love in that moment that he didn't know what to say, so he just looked at Cas. He looked at Cas, and Cas looked at him. He could feel that everything and nothing had changed between them at that instant, and he wasn't going to lie – it scared the shit out of him. But he wasn't going to back away from this because Dean Winchester didn't get scared; didn't feel fear.

Sam was watching this silent exchange, his eyes flicking from one to the other, waiting for someone to say the first word. Unfortunately, it was Sam's stomach that broke the silence.

And then the spell was broken. Dean glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye and looked back at Castiel. "Thanks, Cas," he said gruffly.

Castiel's face fell, but Dean flashed him a brief smile and nodded his head imperceptibly. Translation: I hear you. And yes, I want you, too.

Castiel positively beamed.