Castiel had many dreams about his human friend returning his feelings. It haunted him long after he was around the older hunter – when a spark of connection would light up the room, where his angel senses would tingle in excitement. But an angel was pure, and an angel was loyal to only his father. And so his dreams remained where they must stay: in his brilliant mind.
His daydreams (or his night dreams when he allowed himself to go into that meditative state that would resemble sleep) often included a sudden make out session with the blonde hunter. Up against a wall, or maybe across a table… or perhaps lying side by side in a bed? The possibilities were endless when you had seen all that was possible, and more.
One thing Cas didn't expect, however, were these dreams to actually become a reality. He and the boys had stopped by a motel (he had tried for shotgun, but Sam's death-glare had forced him to settle for the uncomfortable backseat), the mould that crusted the walls and the less-than-sanitary odour making the room quite… unappealing. It seemed that the disgusting nature of the room had given Sam enough nausea for him to go and find something for them to eat.
Which left the angel and the hunter. His brave hunter, unafraid of anything. Even mould. He had even decided to brave the worrying nature of the bathroom to go for a shower, leaving Castiel standing in the middle of the lounge room, staring into space.
"Cas," Dean had called from the bathroom. "Can you grab me one of the towels?"
Startled from the sudden addressing, Castiel gaped like a fish for a moment.
Giving… a towel… to Dean? Yeah, he could do that. Totally. Without panicking. Completely.
"Cas?" Dean was still waiting for a response.
"Uh, sure. Where… um, where are they?" He called back.
"They should be in the top of the wardrobe."
Castiel moved to where he had been directed, picking up one of the fluffy pieces of material and moving to the closed bathroom door. He stopped for a little while, a bit lost.
"I'll… uh, I'll just leave this here, then."
The door swung open suddenly, shocking the angel.
Standing in the doorway was Dean – who certainly did have a towel -, his hair ruffled and dripping from the shower. A Dean who grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, pulling him into the bathroom. Steam instantly shrouded around them, warming his face – but it was nothing in comparison to the blood that rushed up to swarm in his cheeks.
And nothing compared to Dean's lips meeting his.
If Castiel could do anything again, he would have actually responded, instead of standing there like a statue as Dean made out with him. For no reason in particular.
Cas was fine with it.
The one-sided kiss lasted for a solid thirty seconds, before the hunter pulled away, breathing heavily. Maybe Castiel had actually responded? He didn't know. Time had slowed down and his focus had turned to Dean, so much so he was certain he wasn't actually in his body. Well, it wasn't his body… oh, it didn't matter, not when Dean was staring at him as if he was his next meal.
His breath caught as the hunter whispered two words onto his lips.
"No homo."
And then Dean walked out like a sassy gay little bitch.