Spoilers: References to things through Season 8, Episode 7
A/N: There is more shaving then there really needs to be. I blame it on Skyfall.
Also, this is dedicated to agentbartoned on tumblr, because I never would've started watching Supernatural again if it wasn't for her blog, and I just watched all of season eight in one go, and there's character growth for Dean, and Cas is wonderful, and I don't hate Sam, and I'm super glad I'm watching so I wrote this.
The three of them, Sam, Dean, and Cas pile into the Impala and start driving. Dean doesn't know whether they should start after Crowley or after the rest of the tablets so any direction is a good direction.
"I should call Garth," Sam says. "Get him started on figuring out where we should go."
Sam runs a tired hand down his face, and Dean notices, not for the first time, the heavy sag of skin under Sam's eyes, how long his hair's gotten, the lines around his mouth that people get when they frown too much.
Dean knows that Sam's ready to be done, but he doesn't know whether he wants the Kevin situation to be resolved quickly so Sam can get the rest he deserves or for it to drag on so he doesn't lose his brother.
Dean's exhausted, but he can't quit. He tried, back when Sam was in hell. He'd tried to have the normal life with the girlfriend and kid, but he's not cut out for it. He's going to go down fighting, he's going to go down as a hunter. There's nothing else he knows how to do.
He won't have Sam at his side, but maybe he won't die alone. Dean checks the rearview mirror, and the newest addition to their hunting power is fast asleep, his head resting precariously on his seatbelt, rocking back and forth with the jolting of the car.
Dean eases up on the gas, and he drives more carefully.
Cas is awake when they reach the motel, and he follows them to the reception desk where a bored looking woman is flipping through a gossip rag.
Sam clears his throat, but she doesn't look up until he slaps a credit card down on the counter. Suddenly she's paying attention. She looks over the three of them. "How many rooms?"
Sam opens his mouth to answer, then turns to Dean.
"One," Dean says. "A suite. Two beds, couch, kitchenette." He ignores her smirk and answers Sam's look instead, "We always get one room."
"Yeah, but," Sam looks over at Cas.
"He's one of us," Dean says, and he takes the keys from the woman and heads down to their temporary base.
"Sam's off to the library," Dean says once it's just the two of them in the semi-large room that holds two beds, a couch, a TV, and a small kitchen area. "He's going to grab some books and bring them back so we're on fuel duty."
"Fuel?"
Dean smiles, but it's still brittle around the edges from his time in Purgatory. "Sam and I are humans, remember? We've got to eat. I'm going to see if I can find a store or something in walking distance. You want to come?"
"You want me to come shopping with you?"
Dean shrugs. "I wouldn't mind the company. Plus, have you seen how big Sam is? The amount of food it'll take to feed him, I'm going to need an extra set of hands."
"Would you like me to fly us there?" Cas lays a hand on Dean's shoulder.
Dean lifts it off, but he doesn't let go right away. "You're not 100% yet. It's best if we keep the angel mojo down to what's absolutely necessary. Besides, a little walking won't hurt us."
Dean drops Cas's hand, and starts walking towards the road. He ignores the empty space in his hand and the tingling on his skin where Cas's hand has touched his. He shoves his hands into his pockets before he does something stupid like reach out and grab Cas's hand again.
"We have walked many miles together," Cas says, coming up alongside Dean.
"Nicer than our last trip," Dean says and his mind automatically tries to delve into memories of Purgatory.
"The color is nice," Cas agrees as if that's what Dean had been talking about and not the fact that Purgatory hadn't been so much of a walk through the woods as running away from various monsters that were trying to kill them.
Though Dean is grateful that color's been returned to him. He's not sure he would've survived Purgatory if he had been able to see a full spectrum of color. Blood's easier to spill when it comes out dark and black instead of a vibrant red.
"I am surprised you are going to a supermarket," Cas says, pulling Dean back to the present. "I thought fast food was your preferred food."
"I can appreciate other food, and we need some other things so supermarket works best."
"Other things?" A car whizzes past them, and Cas crowds into Dean's space so he's further away from the road. "What else do we need?"
"I told you," Dean says, "You're playing by human rules until you're feeling better."
"I do not understand."
"It means you're not going to snap your fingers and suddenly be clean and shaved and in perfectly pressed clothes. It means," Dean turns to give Cas a little half-smile, "I get to teach you how to be a real boy."
They find a Wal-Mart which is even better than a regular supermarket, and Dean puts Cas in charge of the cart so Cas trails behind Dean as he starts going through each aisle.
Dean tosses a bottle of shampoo in, two bars of soap, a couple disposable razors, some shaving cream, a comb, a toothbrush, another tube of toothpaste, and a stick of deodorant.
Cas picks the deodorant up and uncaps it. He leans in, sniffs, and drops the stick and cap into the cart.
"It is a little strong," Cas says.
Dean laughs and recaps it. "Supposed to be. It covers up the smell of dirt and blood and sweat and everything else."
"Oh." Cas gives the deodorant a long look.
"Would you like a different scent?" Dean points to the wall of deodorants in front of them. "I'd stay away from Axe if you think this is strong. Old Spice is what I usually go for. Good commercials."
Cas puts the deodorant back on the shelf and turns to Dean. "I would like what you wear. It smells," Cas hesitates, "pleasant."
Dean definitely does not blush, and he grabs a stick of Old Spice Swagger and tosses it into the cart. He also switches the Gillette Sensitive Shave Gel out for the Gillette Classic that he uses before Cas asks about that too.
"I do not see why I need more clothing," Cas says, following Dean into the chaos that is Wal-Mart's clothing department.
"You can't wear the same thing every day," Dean tells him. "It's unsanitary."
"I do not believe I will be inconvenienced as long as you believe I will be."
"Then we can donate them. It's not like we're going to run out of money." Dean steers Cas in the direction of the 5-packs of Hanes t-shirts.
Cas veers off path and goes straight to a display of sweaters. He pets the sleeves of one of them and turns to look at Dean with wide eyes. "Money is truly not an issue?"
Dean feels a lump rising in his throat so he coughs into his hand. "Anything you want, Cas."
Dean grabs a 5-pack of white v-necks to go under Cas's cashmere sweaters, and then they pick up two pairs of black slacks and a pair of jeans. Dean also slips some boxers into the cart when Cas isn't looking, because he doesn't want to embarrass him by bringing it up.
"All right," Dean says. "We've covered hygiene and clothing. Now all we need is food."
They go aisle by aisle, starting in the very back where the milk and juice and eggs and yogurt are kept. Dean splurges on Sam's fancy Greek yogurt, and he grabs a gallon of milk and a carton of orange juice, and he debates for about two seconds before he gets some Tollhouse cookie dough and Pillsbury cinnamon rolls.
"We're going to have a real dinner tonight," Dean decides, and he adds a carton of 18 eggs to their cart.
"You can cook?"
Cas sounds genuinely surprised, and Dean doesn't know whether to be insulted or feel guilty that in the years they've been working with Cas they've never cooked for him.
"Some things," Dean says as they head down the chips and snack food aisle. "Is there anything you want?"
"I do not require food," Cas says.
"Doesn't mean you can't eat it." Dean throws in a bag of Bugles and a bag of pretzels, and he's debating a bag of potato chips when Cas pushes ahead.
"With all the salt you are planning to put in your body, it is a wonder you need a tattoo to keep demons out."
Dean stops in the middle of the aisle and almost gets run over by an impatient, and ill-tempered customer. He turns back to look at Cas, ignoring the woman's muttering. "I think you just burned me. Congrats, man."
Dean grins and loops around to go down the cereal aisle as Cas says, "Burned? I did not set you on fire, Dean."
When they get back to the motel, Dean's arms are aching from walking so far with four bags on each arm, and he's relieved for the opportunity to drop them all on the bed. Cas follows suit, and Sam looks up from his pile of books, somewhat horrified.
"Retail therapy?" he guesses.
"Food," Dean says. "And other things."
"Other things?" Sam echoes and then Cas starts pulling out his sweaters, a powder blue one and a dark green one and a chocolate brown one and then there are razors, and Sam's eyebrows go straight up. "Right. Any reason or you just feel like playing dress-up?"
Dean flips him the bird and takes his groceries to the kitchenette. "You keep running your mouth, and I won't feed you."
"Dean's going to attempt spaghetti," Cas says as he carefully refolds his purchases. "We even purchased sauce and garlic bread to accompany it." Cas opens the bag full of fruit and offers Sam an apple. "We are also going to make a salad, because you enjoy them."
"We?" Sam asks, the corners of his lips pulling into a smirk as he turns to his brother.
Dean shrugs. "Cas is recovering so we're keeping the mojo use to a minimum which means he's living as a human for a bit."
"Of course." Sam's all out smirking now.
"I am going to shower," Cas announces. "I will need new clothes to change into after, correct?"
"Yeah." Dean fills a pot with water and sticks it on the oven.
"You sure you can do it on your own?" Sam asks. "I'm sure Dean would happy to help you."
Dean contemplates throwing a knife at Sam's head, but Cas just smiles and says, "I am familiar with the concept of washing myself. I will be fine on my own."
He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door and as soon as the water for the shower turns on, Sam turns to Dean. "Are you serious?"
"He's weak," Dean says as he starts putting the groceries away. "We're going up against Crowley and every demon in hell. Everyone needs to be at their best so yes, I'm serious. No angel mojo for simple things like straightening out his clothes or cleaning himself. And no flying places for no reason. No magic wasted."
"The sad thing is, you actually believe that." Sam shakes his head and goes back to his book.
Dean has flipped the garlic bread, and the spaghetti is straining, and he's putting the finishing touches on the salad when Cas comes out of the bathroom.
His pants are stiff, because they've never been worn before, but they fit well enough, and his sweater is a dark green, and it clings to him, and that has nothing to do with the little flip in Dean's stomach. Neither does Cas's hair, which is damp and sticking in every direction like Cas had run a towel through it and then forgot to comb it.
"I feel clean," Cas says. "It is different than when I put my body back in order. I think I understand why you humans shower now." He goes over to the bed and pulls out his deodorant and regards it for a long moment.
"You slip it under your shirt," Dean says, "rub it under your arms." He mimes the motion, ignoring Sam's sniggers.
Cas does so and then makes a face and wriggles a bit as he drops his arms back to his sides. "It feels peculiar."
Dean shrugs and then he notices Cas's bare feet. "We forgot socks. You can't go around without socks." He points to his bag which is on the couch. "You can wear mine."
Sam's eyebrows shoot straight up.
"It's fine," Dean says, ignoring Sam, again. "They're clean."
"Thank you." Cas smiles like he's actually happy that Dean's sharing his socks with him, and getting a real smile out of Cas is worth all of Sam's overt mocking.
"You can watch me shave in the morning," Dean says as he balls up a sweatshirt to use as a pillow. "And then the day after we'll hazard having you shave."
"I'm embarrassed to be in the same room as you right now," Sam says.
Dean decides not to tell Sam about the cookie dough. And to lock Sam out of the room once Dean gets around to making cookies. Cas hadn't let Dean pull him out of Purgatory, but now he's back with them, and Dean's going to take care of him. He's going to make Cas realize that he's worth it, that he's worth everything, that Dean doesn't want to lose him, can't bear to lose him.
He's going to make Cas realize that he's cared for and that Dean will always want him.
He's going to make Cas realize that he's loved.
Dean drops the sweatshirt. When did he start thinking about Cas and love in the same sentence?
He feels the urge to run, because the room is pressing in around him, and his collar's too tight, and Sam and Cas are both looking at him, and he feels exposed, and it's too much, and he wants to get out of here.
So he does.
Dean picks up his sweatshirt and pulls it over his head with shaking hands. "I'm going to take a walk."
Sam's looking at him like 'what is wrong with you, you freak?' and Cas is staring after him like he's trying to pull the secrets out of Dean's head. Dean pulls his hood up, and he knows it wouldn't protect him if Cas could read his mind, but it makes him feel better.
He's in love with Cas. His angel. His angel who's pulled him out of hell and rebelled against heaven and fallen. His angel who's gone to Purgatory with him, who has betrayed Dean and who Dean has betrayed in turn.
Really, he should've seen it coming. An angel marks Dean as special, dedicates his existence to protecting Dean; what else was Dean going to do?
But it complicates things. Cas is still an angel, and Dean is still a human, a seriously flawed human. They're racing against the legions of hell to find the tablets that can seal up hell's gates. This isn't a good time for Dean to be having these kinds of revelations.
Not that this has to change anything. He'll continue to fight by Cas's side and protect him and take care of him, and Cas never has to know.
It'll be better this way.
Dean feels more focused when he comes back to the room. He flips through a book for an hour, finds nothing useful on Biblical tablets, and calls it a night.
"What are you doing?" Cas asks as Dean tries to find a comfortable way to lay on the couch. Dean's not sure there is a way to make this couch comfortable. It's too short for him to stretch out completely, and there are springs digging into him no matter which way he tosses or curls up.
"Getting ready to sleep." It occurs to Dean that they didn't get Cas any pajamas. He would offer a pair of his sweatpants, but he's not sure he'd be able to handle Sam laughing at him.
"Why are you not in the bed? I do not need to sleep. I should sit on the couch while you sleep on the bed."
"It's fine," Dean says. He shifts again. Once he falls asleep he'll be fine. He might be a little sore in the morning, but he doesn't want Cas having to sit on an uncomfortable couch all night.
"It is not fine." Cas stands next to the arm rest, looming over Dean. "If you do not go to the bed of your own accord then I will be forced to use my angelic strength to carry you, and it will drain me."
Dean narrows his eyes, and he thinks he can hear Sam trying to hold back a laugh. "You're being very stubborn right now."
Cas doesn't move. "I have been learning from you, Dean."
Sam laughs at that, loud and hysterical, and Dean throws his sweatshirt at Sam's head before stomping over to the bed. It's marginally more comfortable than the couch.
Cas picks up a stack of books and brings them over to the couch.
Dean looks over at the space in his bed and then over at Sam who's a quaking mess under his covers. He looks back at Cas, sitting ramrod straight on the couch, flipping through a book with incredible speed.
"Oh, come here," Dean says, patting the space next to him. "You're skinny and won't take up too much space."
Cas beams and brings his tower of books with him. Sam, wisely, keeps his giggling to a minimum.
Dean turns away from his brother which means turning towards Cas.
"You don't need to sleep?" Dean asks. It's a good sign, because if Cas doesn't need to sleep then he's mostly angeled up.
"No. I will research and in the morning I can watch you shave, and Sam can teach me to use the internet so I can be of more use to you."
Dean reaches his hand out to touch Cas's leg and then thinks better of it, fisting his hand in the comforter instead. "You're not useless, Cas."
"You need your rest," Cas says which isn't the response Dean had been hoping for, but he's tired, and he's been eager to sleep since he got out of Purgatory even if he doesn't sleep well. It's probably a side effect for having not slept for an entire year. He thought his eyes were going to dry out down there, he thought that one day he was just going to keel over and pass out for hours, but it never happened.
Sleep and food were two things that were unnecessary in Purgatory. Dean always felt hungry and tired, but it was to varying degrees, and there was nothing to eat and he never actually had to sleep. It was weird, messing with his sense of time, with his reflexes, and when he'd gotten topside all he'd wanted to do was collapse on a bed and sleep.
Except he'd had to resurrect Benny and then he'd gone back to the cabin for a well-deserved nap when he'd run into Sam. And they've been running ever since.
"Sleep," Cas says, his voice quiet but firm.
Dean sleeps and he doesn't dream.
The next morning, Sam smugly eats his yogurt while Cas trails Dean into the bathroom. It's not weird, Dean tells himself as he wets a towel and rubs it over his face. Well, it's weird, but everything he and Cas do is weird. In the grand scheme of the things they've done together this isn't weird at all.
Dean gets a good lather going on his hands and rubs it over the pricklings of a beard. Technically, he can get away without shaving for another day or two, but he wants to show Cas how it's done, and Dean likes the routine of shaving every morning.
Shaving's another thing he didn't get to do in Purgatory.
He tilts his head to the side and carefully scrapes the blade down his face. "Go slow," Dean says as he rinses the razor. "You don't want to cut yourself." He shaves another careful line down. "I do my face first then my chin. The chin's tricky."
Cas crowds in closer, eyes intent on Dean and the smallest movements of his hands. Dean's surprised at how steady his hand is under the tight scrutiny, how relaxed he is with Cas leaning closer and closer.
It feels natural to have Cas at his side, and he ignores that train of thought to tilt his head up and scrape the razor over the sensitive underside of his skin.
"You do this every day?" Cas asks.
"When I have the time." Dean picks up his wash cloth and runs it over his face, cleaning up the lingering bits of cream. And then he runs his hands over his face to see if he missed any spots.
Cas's thumb drags down the curve of Dean's chin, startling him, and he jerks back.
"I'm sorry." Cas drops his hand to his side and casts his eyes downward. "That was inappropriate?"
Yes, Dean thinks. Generally, touching another man without permission is inappropriate. Of course, man code would also consider watching another dude shave inappropriate so the rules have been blasted out of the water.
"It's fine," Dean says. "A little warning next time, though?"
Cas nods and manages to at Dean. "May I touch again? I want to know what it feels like when done right."
The problem with letting Cas think that nothing is wrong with his curiosity is that Dean has to act like there's nothing wrong or strange about it. In theory, it's pretty easy, but as Cas's hands reach out to cup Dean's cheeks, he finds it harder to convince himself that this is perfectly normal, nothing to see here, just move on.
Cas's thumbs sweep over the smooth skin of Dean's cheeks and the tips brush over Dean's lips, and Dean closes his eyes, because looking into Cas's eyes while Cas touches him like this is too much.
"It is very smooth," Cas says, his words ghosting over Dean's skin, and Dean subconsciously leans closer, into Cas's touch, into his space, and Cas's hands slip back to rest on the back of Dean's neck. "Does that mean you did it right?"
Dean's aware that Cas has asked a question, but he's afraid to open his mouth, because he doesn't know what state his voice will be in. A breathless whisper? A guttural moan? Perfectly normal?
Cas's hands are on his neck so Dean's inside Cas's arms, bracketed by him, safe inside the hold of his angel.
"Yeah," Dean says, and it's barely a whisper. He clears his throat, tries again. "Yeah, I did it right. Lots of practice." He tries to give Cas a bravado packed smile, one that the old Dean would have used swaggering into a bar on a Friday night, but the Dean that's been to hell, that's been to Purgatory doesn't have that kind of smile left in him.
"I suppose I will not get a lot of practice," Cas says. "Perhaps it is best if you shave for me tomorrow."
Dean coughs and backs out of Cas's hold, and he knows without looking that Cas has his 'I've done something wrong but I don't know what' face on, but Dean can't handle it right now. Shaving in front of someone is intimate enough. Dean's not going to shave Cas for him. There's a line that Dean's not going to cross in this live like a human experience and that's it right there.
"You'll do fine," Dean says and he tosses the towel in the pile of things to be washed and heads out into the kitchen.
Dean takes a study break and walks back to Wal-Mart, because there isn't really anywhere else to go, and he's sure he can find something to amuse himself there. Maybe he'll buy a deck of cards so he can play Solitaire when he gets bored. Or maybe he'll buy a movie to play in the background while they continue to scour for hints of tablets that no one had even known existed until a few days ago.
Cas, with his freaky angel brain, had blown through every book Sam had brought back from the library and found nothing. Now Sam is explaining Google and reliable sources, and Dean's off on an explore.
He grabs a six pack of white socks and then he realizes that Cas is the kind of guy—angel—that wears black slacks and sweaters so he also grabs a pair of argyle socks and then he heads over to check out the flat screen TVs.
He wonders if he's taking this whole thing too far. Cas becoming like Sam and Dean is what caused him to fall in the first place, and Cas had been miserable as he slowly became human. Maybe this is going to bring back bad memories. Maybe Cas doesn't even want to imitate human life.
On the way out of the store, Dean makes sure to pick up some Bisquik and chocolate chips and bacon so he has an excuse for why he went. He'll make pancakes for dinner, and Sam and Dean will laugh and try to explain to Cas why sometimes people eat breakfast food at dinner time and Cas won't get it and he'll be puzzled and curious, and Dean will probably get frustrated, but then later, Dean will give him the socks and everything will be fine.
Dean's pretty sure he's the most pathetic person he knows.
"I passed a Laundromat," Dean says, as he comes back into the room. He hides the socks in his bag so they'll be a surprise later and brings the food over the cupboards to put away.
"You're volunteering to do laundry?" Sam asks. He looks up from the computer, haggard and flicking the occasional glance at Cas, one that says 'if he wasn't an angel, I probably would've strangled him by now'.
Dean remembers Sam's frustration trying to teach dad how to properly use a computer, and Cas is several hundred times older than dad was. "Sure. Cas, want to come see how humans clean their clothes?"
Cas is more excited by this prospect then Dean would've thought, and Sam mouths a heartfelt 'thank you' as soon as Cas's back is to him. Dean shrugs and starts filling a duffel with dirty clothes and towels.
"This is not what I was expecting," Cas says.
They're sitting on a bench in the Laundromat, and even Cas has gotten bored of watching the clothes spin in a circle.
"Bored?" Dean guesses. Cas shifts, uncomfortable, and Dean laughs. "It's okay. Not everything humans do is full of glory and excitement. We do boring things. Laundry. Sleep. Homework."
"I should find all aspects of humanity invigorating," Cas says.
"No you shouldn't." They're almost shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching, and it's closer than they usually sit, and if Dean leans over just a little their shoulders will brush. Cas is in his space, a part of the protective bubble Dean likes to keep around himself, and it should bother him more than it does.
Or maybe it shouldn't. Cas had pulled Dean out of hell, reknit his body, and they'd fought side by side in Purgatory together. Those are the kinds of things that bring people together. It's natural for Dean to feel safe with Cas. He's not sure his other feelings are as natural, but he can ignore those.
"You sit here until it is completed?" Cas asks.
"Yep. Sometimes I bring something to read, but laundry duty is pretty dull. That's why it's nice to have company."
Cas ducks his head. "I am afraid I have not been good company. Am I supposed to talk to you?"
Dean shrugs. "I've never done laundry with someone before. Well, there was that one time with Sam and Chuck's book, but that was a weird situation all around. We can just sit in silence. No pressure for you to make conversation."
"All right."
The washers stop, and Dean feels a little bad as Cas perks up, thinking they're done. Dean switches the laundry to the dryers, and the way Cas's eyebrows go up is almost comical.
"There is more?"
Dean laughs a little. "Yeah, now they have to dry. We've got an hour before they're done. Want to walk for a bit?"
"You are not too tired?"
Dean wants to say that he fought constantly for an entire year without rest. He wants to say that he'd gotten the best sleep he can remember last night. He doesn't say either of those.
"I'm good, besides a little exercise can't hurt." Dean smiles and turns right out of the Laundromat and walks. They pass a dry cleaners and a little boutique with a couple shawls hanging in the window and then there's a pizza joint that smells delicious, but they walk by.
There's a large brick Catholic church, and the windows are beautiful stained glass, and Cas pauses outside to stare. He's appreciative and longing, and Dean doesn't know what to do. Does Cas miss heaven? Is Dean keeping him away from where he wants to be?
Sam wants to quit hunting, but Dean's forcing him on this last hunt, and if he thought he could, he'd force Sam on another and another. Is Dean forcing Cas to be here too?
"It is beautiful," Cas says and he turns away, "Would you like to keep going?"
"Would you like to stay?" Dean counters.
Cas looks at Dean like he can hear the real question he's asking, and he tentatively holds out a hand like he's not sure it's an appropriate gesture in the situation. "With you, yes."
Dean looks at Cas's hand for a long moment. It's not weird if you don't make it weird, he tells himself and takes Cas's hand, it's not a big deal if you don't make it one.
Dean dumps the duffel of still warm clothing on Sam's pristinely made bed. "Now comes the real fun. Sorting and folding."
Sam snorts and pretends to be engrossed in his computer screen when Dean glares at him.
The next morning, Cas watches Dean shave again before trying it himself. Dean feels a little strange watching another guy shave, but every time he looks away, he finds himself drawn back to Cas, the way the razor makes a path in the white foam.
He's mesmerized by the strips of smooth skin revealed by the razor, by the way Cas's fingers curl too tight around the razor, how intense his face is as he stares at himself in the mirror. He is completely absorbed in the task, and Dean finds himself drawn in.
He doesn't realize how close they are until Cas turns away from the mirror and their noses almost touch. Dean wants to pull back, retreat, but Cas is staring at him, locking him in place, and then he's bringing Dean's hand up to his cheek, and Dean's fingers instinctively press gently against Cas's skin.
Cas's palm is warm against Dean's hand, and he drags Dean's hands in small circles. "Did I do a good job?"
He's searching for approval, almost desperate for it, and Dean shouldn't, but he rubs his thumb against Cas's cheek. It's smooth in some areas and still a little prickly in others, but for a first time, he did well.
"Yeah," Dean says, his words breathed into the space between them. Cas is still staring at him, intense, and Dean's eyes dip down to Cas's lips, and he thinks about how easy it would be to lean in the last few inches, to press their lips together, but he can't.
He can hand wave and say that teaching Cas to be human is part of their "profound bond". He can get away with buying Cas clothes and teaching him to shave and showing him how mundane human life can be, and he can even hold Cas's hand for a brief time while they're waiting for their clothes to dry, but he can't kiss him and write it off as a thing they do.
So Dean clears his throat and backs away. "Want to see the wonders of scrambling eggs?"
Dean doesn't forget that Sam had been constantly mocking him since Cas joined their not so merry band, and he feels no guilt sending Sam to return library books and make himself scarce for an hour or so.
Sam smirks like he thinks he's being sexiled. Dean rolls his eyes and shoos him and as soon as Sam's gone he preheats the oven.
"I do not understand," Cas says following Dean into the kitchen area. "Why did Sam have to leave?"
"Because he's a jerk, and when he comes back the room's going to smell like chocolate chip cookies, but they'll be all gone because we ate them."
"That does not seem kind," Cas says as Dean rummages around for a cookie tray.
"He deserves it." Dean finds one buried under the oven, and he washes it three times and then puts a sheet of aluminum foil over it. "Besides, there's only sixteen cookies."
"There is only two of us."
"You say that now." Dean opens the package and starts separating the little squares of chocolate chip cookie dough. "Wait 'til you start eating them. These your first cookies?"
"I have had many firsts with you," Cas says, solemn.
Dean chokes back an undignified noise and accidently snaps a piece of cookie dough in half. He mashes it back together and drops it on the tray. "Yeah. Guess you have."
"I am glad you are the one who is showing me what it is like to be human," Cas continues like Dean isn't dying of embarrassment, "and I am glad that you are taking the time to do so so thoroughly when you have no obligation to do so."
Cas is thanking Dean, because Dean's letting him shadow Dean going through the motions of everyday life. It's no strain on Dean, and it hurts him that Cas thinks he has to say thank you for something like this.
So Dean hands him a piece of raw cookie dough. "It's good both ways," Dean says. "Supposedly raw cookie dough is a health danger, but you're an angel, and you pounded like 200 burgers that one time so I think you'll be fine."
Dean sticks the cookie tray in the oven and when he closes the door he realizes that Cas is holding half of the cookie dough out to him.
Making cookies with Cas is the best idea Dean's ever had.
Kicking Sam out for the event is the second best.
Dean pulls the cookies out the oven and puts them down on the stove to cool. Cas is at his side in an instant, peering over his shoulder.
"Can they be consumed yet?"
Dean laughs and gives Cas a little push backwards. "Not unless you want to burn your mouth. Aren't you like super old? You should know a thing or two about patience."
Cas slips around Dean and snatches a cookie. "I can also heal myself if I burn my mouth."
Dean wants to remind Cas that he's not supposed to be doing anything angelic, but he's hoarding his cookie, shielding it from Dean with his shoulders, and Dean can see it crumbling in pieces in Cas's hand, still too gooey to hold together, and Dean can't do anything but laugh and wave his hand.
"Whatever, dude."
Triumphant, Cas shoves the whole thing in his mouth, and his eyes blow wide and he waves his hand in front of his mouth, and Dean really starts to laugh, until his arms are wrapped around his waist, and he has tears in his eyes.
"They are delicious," Cas says, and he has chocolate smeared on the palm of his hand and around his mouth, and he goes in for another cookie, and Dean realizes that there's a definite possibility that Cas will eat all the cookies before they cool enough for Dean to eat any.
He finds that he really doesn't care.
As Dean predicted, Sam's furious when he comes back and realizes that they've made cookies without him. And that they've eaten them all. Dean points to Cas, even though he doesn't need to, because Cas has chocolate all over his face, and he even has bits of cookie clinging to his hair, and even Sam has to crack a smile when he sees how happy Cas is.
It doesn't stop Sam from snagging the remote and forcing them to watch the History Channel for three hours.
Dean finds that he doesn't really care, because when he sits down on his bed, back against the headboard, Cas joins him and his slacks ruck up a bit, flashing the argyle socks he's wearing.
Dean can't help his smile and he settles back to listen to some guy explain how the Soviets had extraterrestrial assistance in the Cold War.
They hit the road the next day, tipped off about a possible clue that might lead them to a tablet, and Dean thinks it's a long shot, but when they get there, they encounter a demon, and it might be a long shot, but they're not the only ones looking at everything and anything that might be a clue.
Dean manages to get his knife into his hand before he's being thrown against a wall, and Sam gets two verses into his exorcism before an invisible hand is choking him and then Cas lights up, bright white light pouring out of him, and he reaches a hand out and rips the demon out of its host.
Dean slides down the wall onto the ground. Looks like Cas is all angeled up again.
He tries not to think about how he's disappointed, but he obviously does think about it, because the next thing he knows, Cas is reaching a hand out to him to help him to his feet.
"I am fully recovered," Cas says, and he's happy, and Dean can't begrudge him that, not after everything Cas has been through with them.
"You are." Dean tries not to sound miserable, but he knows he fails.
"This means that I do not have to wash my clothes anymore." Cas's smile grows and he hikes his pant leg up. "Which means I do not have to take my socks off."
Dean looks down at the proud jut of the diamonds and grins, a swell of happiness rising up in him. "That's exactly what it means."