Note: So, turned out I couldn't help myself, I had to add a bit! A small chapter where Dean tries his hand at romance, Cas learns a little bit more about being human, and Sam is less sneaky than he thinks he is.
Dean broke off the kiss and Cas growled, trying to follow the hunter's mouth with his own, his fingers digging into Dean's hips, pressing against him urgently, as though trying to meld their bodies together through sheer force of will.
"Cas," Dean said warningly, his hands on the former angel's waist holding him gently, but firmly, still. Cas squirmed and blew out a gusty breath, staring up at Dean with wide blue eyes that were glazed with passion, and a spark of intense frustration.
"Dean!" he whispered, pleadingly. But Dean shook his head firmly. He'd felt the trembling beneath his fingers, heard Cas's breath hitch in that way it always did when things got to be too much.
Cas shuddered and leaned forward, burying his face in Dean's neck. Dean wrapped his arms around the fallen angel, in a comforting way this time, instead of a passionate one.
It had been over a month since their first kiss and Dean was taking it slowly - desperately, infuriatingly slowly - even as his body screamed at him to do more. It nearly killed him every time he pulled back from Cas after years of unfulfilled longing, but he was well aware that the ex-angel was still woefully unprepared for the emotional and physical aspects of taking their relationship to the next level.
That first day had especially tested him. It had taken Dean several minutes to recover from the shock of Cas's declaration of love, several minutes of staring into ancient blue eyes that gazed patiently back at him, waiting with the serenity only someone who had stared into immortality possessed. Eventually Dean had lifted Cas off his lap and stood, still staring into those trusting blue eyes as he walked the former seraph backwards towards the couch. Gently, ever so slowly, he'd laid Cas down on the couch, following him down until he was laying half on top of the ex-angel, lowering his head to capture Cas's soft, pink lips.
At first they had shared only gentle, close-mouthed kisses, Cas awkwardly, but determinedly, pressing his lips to Dean's own. But then Dean had gradually deepened the kisses, had gently, almost reverently, held Cas's face as he slid his tongue slowly across the ex-angel's lips, which had instinctively parted under his touch. The small, breathy moan Cas had made as their tongues touched for the first time had caused Dean some serious problems, and he'd found himself having to think firmly about terrible things, like demons, and monsters, and Sam's vegetarian lasagna, in order to bring himself back from the brink.
Soon enough though Dean had had to pull back from the close position they were in for other reasons. He'd noticed right from the first that even a simple caress, like trailing his fingers down Cas's face, got an incredibly sensitive reaction, but had been too hazed by love and desire to understand what it meant. But eventually something in the way Cas was breathing, or the way he squirmed in his arms, had caused concern to break through Dean's other, less unselfish, thoughts. And once he'd realized what was happening he'd kicked himself for not realizing sooner.
For a being that was wasn't used to physical contact of any kind having Dean practically on top of him, being kissed, and held, and touched, had almost brought Cas beyond the point of sensory overload. The ex-angel had been completely overwhelmed, unable to process so much physical and emotional intimacy.
Which was why Dean was now holding Cas gently, making sure things didn't get out of hand, instead of shredding Cas's clothes with his bare hands.
Sam coughed pointedly from the kitchen door, startling Dean out of his reverie.
"Hi, Sam," Cas said, his voice muffled by Dean's shoulder. His brother raised a questioning eyebrow, and Dean nodded imperceptibly.
"C'mon, Cas," Sam coaxed. "I'm gonna go get food, and rent some movies. I'll teach you how to use the ATM if you come with."
Cas sighed and pushed back from Dean, giving him one last reproachful glance as he slouched off after Sam, who turned to give Dean a knowing and amused grin from the door. Dean made an exceptionally rude hand gesture at his brother, who returned the gesture with interest.
When Sam and Cas were safely out of the bunker Dean quickly made for his room, knowing his brother would be a long time if he was giving Cas any kind of lesson. Especially a lesson that had anything to do with money.
The brothers had taken turns with Cas's 'human' lessons, simple things like how to brush his teeth, how to tie his shoelaces, or, by far the most hair-raising lesson, how to drive a car. The last driving lesson had ended with Dean and Sam swearing copiously and, in one particularly memorable moment, squealing like scared schoolgirls, which had inevitably resulted in a flat tire, a dented bumper, and a completely unrepentant (and vastly amused) former angel who clearly hadn't yet learned to give Death the respect he deserved.
The driving lessons had quickly been postponed. Indefinitely.
Dean grinned at that memory, finally able to laugh at what had been a genuinely terrifying moment, but the smile faded as he opened the door to his room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the rumpled covers of his bed and he leaned against the door frame with a sigh. Cas had been in his room again. Dean could see the indents in his pillow where the ex-angel had held it clasped tightly to his chest, and his pile of clothes, which never seemed to make it as far as a wardrobe, was clearly missing a few items.
Dean's eyes roved around the room and as he noticed a few other things out of place he sighed again, kicking himself for his weakness. Despite several attempts to persuade him otherwise Dean had steadfastly refused to allow Cas the comfort of sleeping in his room at night, not because he didn't desperately want him to, but because being in the same bed as the ex-angel, pressed up against him all night, was more than his fragile control could stand. And so Cas had taken to creeping into his room during the day, something the hunter pretended not to notice, afraid of either embarrassing Cas or giving in to the urge to push their relationship too far, too fast.
With that thought Dean closed the door behind him and locked it (even though no one else was in the bunker), and pulled his laptop out, sitting back on the bed. Briefly he hesitated, eyeing the pillow, and then gave in to the impulse to pull it to his face, inhaling the scent of his angel.
Dean put the pillow down with a sigh.
"I'm an idiot," he muttered grimly as he opened the laptop, hesitating as he always did, sure beyond all reason that the second he started his 'research' the door would fly open and his brother would discover what he'd been doing.
Although Cas had slowly gotten used to being touched consistently, to the point where Dean almost felt comfortable upping the anty in their relationship, the hunter wasn't quite ready to take them to the next step. And not just because of Cas's inexperience, but also because of his own. Although Dean was desperately in love with Castiel he'd never actually been with a man before, so whenever Sam and Cas left the bunker the hunter educated himself in a way that required him to carefully clear his browser history afterwards.
Dean knew they couldn't put it off much longer, not just because he was losing his mind, but also the desperate way Cas pressed up against him when they kissed pretty much guaranteed that the ex-angel was in just as bad a state as he was. However, there were other things to consider. After all, Cas was no ordinary human, and this was no ordinary relationship. Dean was well aware that Cas had been a literal Angel; a being of such perfection and purity that the thought of corrupting that innocence kept Dean up at night, and not in a good way. And also, this was Castiel. The love of Dean's life. He wanted to do this right for once. To woo Cas, to romance him the way he deserved to be romanced.
"Thank God for the Internet," Dean muttered, then winced as he remembered what he was doing with said Internet and, more importantly, who he intended to use his new-found knowledge on.
"Sorry," he muttered, flicking a guilty glance at the ceiling. Despite being reasonably certain no one was actually listening the hunter still found himself mildly surprised when he wasn't immediately incinerated by a lightning bolt, which probably said more about his state of mind than any possible reaction of Cas's absentee father.
After another moment of hesitation, and another suspicious glance at both the ceiling and the door, Dean finally opened the search engine and, blushing furiously, began to type.
Dean ran his thumb across the fingers that tightly held his, silently rehearsing the words in his head. The former angel was snuggled as close to Dean as he could get on the couch, the way he always was when they were alone, almost purring with contentment after a flashback free day. Sam was in the kitchen taking a break from whatever insanely boring research had captured his fancy this time, nowhere near close enough to overhear whatever Dean might say. And yet, still he hesitated.
Cas, who was becoming better and better at reading the brothers, seemed to feel the hesitation and shifted so he was sitting up looking into Dean's eyes, although he still kept hold of Dean's hand. Dean stared into Cas's blue eyes, feeling himself start to sweat under the pressure of his angel's penetrating gaze.
"What's wrong?" Cas asked softly.
"Cas…" Dean started, then stopped again, cursing himself. This shouldn't be this hard. Cas squeezed his hand reassuringly, and the fact that he was making such an effort to use a very human gesture of comfort, something that absolutely did not come naturally to the former angel, finally broke the tension in Dean.
"Cas, I'd like to take you out. On a date. If… if you'd like that?"
Cas frowned, and Dean held his breath.
"Don't bad things usually happen on dates?"
"Only on TV, Cas," Dean said, then thought for a minute. He actually couldn't remember the last time he'd had a date that hadn't been interrupted by either a monster, a demon, or a frantic phone call from his brother.
"Usually," he muttered to himself.
"We've done this all backwards, Cas," he said, louder. "If this was a normal situation I would've asked you on a date before I told you I loved you, or kissed you. Think of it as a human relationship ritual."
Cas thought that over and nodded. "Ok, Dean."
"Ok, awesome. So, where would you like to go?" Dean asked, relieved. Cas frowned, and the hunter saw him shuffle through his movie collection in his mind. Cas had come to rely heavily on movies and TV as a guide to human interaction, with both worrying and occasionally hilarious results.
"Dancing?" he asked, and Dean grinned, wondering which of Sam's stash of chick flicks (the ones he thought Dean didn't know about) that Cas had been watching this time.
"Definitely not, Cas. I can't dance to save my life. I'd just end up treading on your toes all evening. Anything else?"
Cas thought again. "Not dinner, too many people," he said slowly, and Dean nodded. The ex-angel found himself easily overwhelmed in crowded areas, he kept trying to read everyone's expressions, an ability humans took for granted but which frustrated Cas to distraction.
"Movies?" Dean suggested, and Cas shook his head.
"I want to watch you, not a screen," he said matter-of-factly, clearly not realizing how deeply those words touched Dean's heart. The hunter found himself needing a moment to recover, luckily the former angel was deep in thought and didn't appear to notice.
"A picnic!" Cas exclaimed at last, and Dean grinned again.
"Sounds perfect, Cas. A picnic it is."
"Pick me up at 8?" Cas asked, quoting TV again.
"Ok, as long as it's 8 in the morning, so we can have lunch by the lake."
Cas smiled a small, shy smile, and jumped up from the chair, apparently going off to do whatever he thought humans did before dates. Dean smiled to himself, then felt a sudden frisson of nerves. This was their first date together, and Cas's first ever date. He didn't want to fuck up this important moment.
After a minute of thinking things through, he got up to go find his brother.
"Cas wants to go on a picnic," Dean announced as he walked into the kitchen. Sam smiled a soft, fond smile, and Dean felt his heart swell with gratitude. How many people were lucky enough to have someone in their lives so genuinely happy for their happiness?
"So why are you telling me?" Sam asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Off you go then, have fun."
Dean lost the upswell of gratitude immediately. The bastard was going to make him work for it.
"Uh, it's tomorrow," Dean said, blushing faintly. "And…"
"And you don't have the faintest idea what to bring on a picnic?" Sam asked with a smirk.
"That's about the size of it, yeah," Dean said defensively. "And," he added snidely, "I suppose you do?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll go get the picnic basket out of the storage room."
"We have a picnic basket?!" Dean asked, looking askance at his brother. Sure, Sam had lots of weird hobbies, but really?
"Do I look like someone who buys picnic baskets?" Sam huffed, looking vaguely offended. "The Men of Letters had a whole heap of crap in the storage room. Which you'd know, if you'd ever bothered to take inventory."
"Yeah, yeah," Dean growled. "While you do that, I'll find the stuff for the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They're…"
"Cas's favorite. I know, I know," Sam broke in with a conspiratorial grin. "Ok, Romeo. You do that. There's chocolate in the fridge, and strawberries, and wine, although I don't think you should give Cas any of that… but it might help with your nerves."
Dean stopped in the middle of grabbing the bread, and looked at his brother. One of those looks the two of them shared that said more than words ever could.
"You knew..." he started to ask, but Sam waved his hand sharply, cutting him off.
"Damn right," Sam said with a grin, turning to make for the stairs. "Although the 'picnic' aspect is a bit of a surprise. My money was on candlelit dinner."
Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother's back. "So," he said, trying to sound casual, "which movie did Cas get this idea from?"
Sam shrugged, not really paying attention. "Not sure. Not one of mine this time."
Dean grinned and Sam glanced guiltily back, realizing too late that he'd just given himself away.
After another moment of hesitation Sam shook his head and continued on his errand. Dean looked thoughtfully after his retreating form then opened the fridge, looking gratefully at the various romantic goodies inside, silently wondering if maybe he'd been taking his little brother for granted.
Sam was headed down to the storage area when he heard loud banging and mutters coming from Cas's room. He paused outside, wondering if he should knock, but the door flew open before he could decide. Sam got a brief glimpse of the TV, where a man in a suit holding a red rose was paused in the act of ascending an escalator, before a distinctly bedraggled Castiel appeared in the doorway, breathing hard.
"Sam!" his friend yelped, running into the corridor, grabbing his hand and dragging him into his bedroom. Sam looked around the room, which looked like at least one tornado had hit it, and winced.
"Are you ok, Cas?" he asked, concerned.
Cas gazed back at him, wild-eyed. "No!" he exclaimed, and Sam started to really worry.
"What is it, Cas?" he asked, gently, wishing his brother was there. When Cas's flashbacks got really bad Dean was the only one who could soothe him.
Cas glanced at the tv, then back at the bed where everything he owned, and, Sam noticed with amusement, even some things he clearly didn't own, were dumped over the covers.
"I don't have anything to wear!" he wailed.
Luckily Sam had warned him in advance to dress up, so Dean was wearing his least-ripped set of jeans and flannel. He'd thought about wearing his fake FBI gear, but that didn't feel right somehow. And then Cas came up the stairs, without the familiar coat but in dress pants, white shirt, and blue tie and Dean caught his breath, overwhelmed by love… and a sudden melancholy. Even without the coat something about the way Cas held himself in those clothes reminded Dean sharply of the Angel of the Lord who had gripped him tight and raised him from Perdition. Then Cas tilted his head and smiled, a small, uncertain smile, and Dean lost the ability to think altogether.
"Cas, you look… stunning," he managed eventually, his mouth suddenly dry. Cas came closer, walking slowly, without the bounce in his step he'd acquired as a human, as if the familiar clothes had affected him the same way they had Dean. Then as he got close to the hunter he lost the measured step and smiled that new, joyful smile, crossing the remaining distance between them as fast as he could, kissing Dean enthusiastically.
"Ugh," Sam winced, making vomiting sounds. "Get out! Go rub up against each other somewhere I can't see, and leave me in peace!"
Dean grinned as his brother rolled his eyes dramatically and stomped off to the kitchen.
"I thought Sam was happy we were kissing now?" Cas asked, looking confused, and slightly hurt. Dean grinned even wider.
"He is, Cas, but I'm his brother. Humans always find public displays of affection by their family a bit gross."
"So, we shouldn't kiss in front of him?" Cas asked, genuinely concerned. "I don't want Sam to feel bad."
"Of course we should, Cas!" Dean said, rolling his eyes.
"Why? You just said…"
"Because it makes him uncomfortable," Dean laughed. "It's a brother thing. Imagine if it was you and Gabriel."
"Oh," Cas said, his face clearing in understanding, then his brow creasing in remembered annoyance. "He liked to tease me. He said it was because I was his favorite."
An old grief ghosted across his face then, and Dean put a comforting hand on his shoulder, unable to offer a hug when he was laden down with picnic gear. Cas shook himself, and smiled, and Dean relaxed again.
They both knew it would take Cas years to get over everything that had happened, after all, he had lost eternity, but Dean would be there every step of the way. Starting with their first date.
Cas sat on the blanket on the ground marveling at how the simplest things, things that in times past he wouldn't have even thought twice about, had become suddenly inexplicably fascinating; the rough texture of the blanket under his hands, the warmth of the sunlight on his skin, the way the warm breeze ruffled his hair. He held up a hand in front of his face, flexing his fingers, still deeply fascinated by this human form, its marvels and its indignities, its… his… ability to feel. Slowly he brought the hand back down, running it gently through the grass, pulling out a handful and holding it up to his nose, inhaling the fresh, earthy scent.
"No need to eat the grass, Cas, I brought lunch," Dean said, laughter in his voice, and Cas smiled, feeling a now-familiar thrill run through him. He turned to face Dean, struck, as always, by the overwhelming urge to place his hands on the hunter, to stare into his green eyes forever, to burn his hand-print into his soul and reclaim him all over again. He looked around quickly, pleased to see they were alone. He turned back to Dean, keeping himself still only through sheer force of will. Cas had learned that no matter how good it felt humans didn't touch each other all the time, but he always felt slightly empty without the hunter in his arms, without that tangible proof that Dean was there. Was his.
Dean's smile slipped, changing from light-hearted and teasing to something more intimate. He hesitated, and Cas felt his pulse quicken as they gazed at each other. But then Dean shook himself and started laying out the food. Cas sighed, disappointed, and lay back on the blanket, preparing to watch the clouds, something he now found mesmerizing despite knowing they were just water droplets in the air.
But then Dean was there, running a hand up his chest, thoughtfully tugging gently on his tie. Cas caught his hand and held it tightly to his chest, over his now-racing heart. Dean stared back down into his eyes, turning the hand he held so it was grasping Cas's fingers. They stayed that way for what Cas knew to Dean would seem like a long time.
"You're so beautiful," Dean whispered eventually, and Cas swallowed hard, the new-found knowledge of the hunter's difficulty expressing emotion making his words doubly meaningful. He reached up a hand and gently touched Dean's cheek, still lacking the words to describe his feelings; most human languages were too limited. He thought for a second, he knew the brothers knew just enough Enochian to get them in trouble, but they both understood another language, one that was similar enough to his own to say what he wanted to say. Latin.
"In aeternum te amabo, Dean," he whispered. I will love you for eternity.
"Ol Aziazor Elasa, Castiel," the hunter whispered back, and Cas felt something shiver through him at hearing the words of love spoken in the language from the time before time. It was deeper somehow, more meaningful. He felt Dean studying his reaction.
"You like that, love?" Dean murmured with a smile. "I practised for a long time in the mirror."
"You learned Enochian?" Cas whispered, overcome.
"Enough," Dean said softly. "Enough for this moment." The hunter shifted a bit, looking embarrassed. "Was it ok?"
Cas nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Instead he reached up, and pulled Dean down into a long, lingering kiss. Eventually Dean pulled back, breathing hard, and Cas felt that small flutter of pride he always felt at being able to affect the normally stoic hunter so deeply. Then that feeling fled, to be replaced by frustration as Dean sat back on his heels, and after a last, playful caress down his chest went back to arranging the food.
Cas lay back with a sigh. He knew what he wanted from the hunter, even if he wasn't sure how to go about it. He knew Dean wanted it too, so why was he holding back? A small fear raised its head from somewhere deep inside him, a place he hadn't really known existed. Could it be that the Righteous Man was hesitant to commit himself so deeply to a fallen angel?
The picnic had gone better than Dean had dared hope, thanks in large part to his brother's continued meddling in affairs that were none of his damn business. The chocolate had been the highlight of the lunch, Cas's face when he ate one of the chocolate-coated strawberries was the face Dean hoped to elicit from the former angel in other, less innocent circumstances, and after a few moments he'd had to look away before his body forgot they were in a public place.
Now he was packing up the rubbish, but it was taking him far longer than it should have, his eyes continuously drawn hopelessly, inevitably to the former angel sitting on the other side of the blanket. Just an arm's length away. After yet another moment of helpless staring Dean dragged his attention back to his task, but looked up quickly again when he heard Cas suck in a breath. Cas was smiling, staring at something in the distance and Dean smiled too, until he looked and saw what it was.
"Cas," Dean started, but it was too late.
"There's a cat on the other side of the lake!"
Dean caught his breath anxiously, knowing what was coming next. It had been a long time since Cas had had a flashback, or a bout of grief too intense for his newly-human mind to cope with. It had been far too good to be true. Sure enough, Cas tensed up, trying to spread non-existent wings. As his face crumpled Dean was by his side instantly, holding him close.
"Shh, love, it's ok. I'm here," Dean murmured. Cas shuddered into his chest, then pulled back, smiling a watery smile. Dean relaxed fractionally; Cas's bouts of grief over losing his wings weren't as intense, or as long-lived as they had been. Dean liked to think he was part of the reason for that.
As the confusion was leaving Cas a strange mixture of old and new had come to uneasy truce in his demeanor. When they discussed hunts the laser focus, the complete and total bad-assery that was Cas the warrior angel shone through, and the brothers were leaning on his experience more and more as time went on. When they were out in public the arrogant shell that Castiel the Angel of the Lord had kept up like a suit of armor was in place, only the brothers, who knew him so well, could see the confusion and fear underneath.
When the three of them were alone Cas laughed, and smiled, and cried, by turns openly joyful, or completely distraught, as he gradually learned how to deal with the depth and breadth of his new human emotions. It had been a tough few weeks for Cas and both Dean and Sam had been surprised, and gratified, by the level of trust their friend had placed in them as he stumbled his way through the pitfalls of human interaction.
Through it all the innocence, the righteousness, the compassion that had always been the core of Castiel, human or not, was now on full display in the person he was becoming. With a hint of mischief underneath that caused Dean occasional strange flashes of déjà vu; something about a particular way Cas would smile at a joke he actually got, or the way he snarled at anyone who tried to stop him from having several coffees throughout the day.
Dean and Sam both deeply regretted allowing Cas, who already had more energy than a roomful of puppies, to try coffee.
And above it all was one truth, one inescapable fact.
"I love you," Dean murmured into Cas's hair.
"I know," Cas replied, and Dean felt him laugh.
"Did Sam make you watch a Star Wars marathon again?" he sighed, acting irritated, but secretly pleased. The strong friendship between his brother and Cas had turned out to be just as crucial in helping the former angel understand human connections as their own relationship was.
"Yes, although I didn't really understand it. There aren't any creatures like that out there."
Cas tensed as Dean sucked in a breath, about to ask the obvious question. But then, just as quickly, deciding that, actually, he really didn't want to know.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas whispered, and Dean shifted around so he could look into the ex-angel's eyes.
"Sorry for what, sweetheart?" he asked, gently.
"I… I wish I could share it all with you. There's so much I want to tell you, but I can't. There are rules."
"Even now?" Dean asked, feeling an unexpected stab of sorrow. He wanted so much to know everything about Castiel. To know every tiny detail of his life, to share as much of his angel as he could, to feel the connection that came from knowing someone so intimately.
"Especially now," Cas whispered, something like fear in his eyes. And Dean suddenly felt his mouth go dry, suddenly understood so many things about the last few weeks that hadn't initially made sense. The way when they were out Cas would make a movement, or a sound, or cast a look off to the side, as if seeing something no one else could. The way he would withdraw into himself sometimes, and put a possessive hand on Dean's shoulder, even if the three of them were in a part of town with no one else around. The way he refused to be drawn out on anything even remotely related to his time in Heaven.
And Dean cursed himself for not realizing, and for possibly accidentally compromising Cas's safety. The message was clear in retrospect; the angels were watching.
And Dean wondered then, for the first time, if Castiel hadn't Fallen so much as been… pushed.
Cas must've seen the anger in his face because he reached out and squeezed Dean's hands tightly, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Dean squeezed his hands back, letting Cas know his silent message had been received and understood, quietly marveling at how fast the former angel was learning the unspoken human language of touch and movement.
Dean moved back to his side of the blanket and leaned back on his elbows, looking across at Cas, who imitated his posture, tilting his face up to feel the sun. Dean continued to stare at Cas, at the bliss on his face at the feeling of warm sunlight, at the angle of his neck, the skin just begging to be caressed, to have his hands, and his mouth on it. The hunter sighed, and for what seemed like the thousandth time that day wrestled his traitorous thoughts firmly back under control.
"Is there anything you want to ask me, since I can't ask you anything?" he said eventually.
"One thing still confuses me," Cas said, turning onto his side, propping his head on his hand. Dean was the one who imitated the ex-angel's posture this time.
"Only one thing, Cas?" he asked, teasing gently.
Cas sighed. "One big thing."
Dean raised his eyebrows questioningly, surprised when Cas hesitated.
"Why is it called a picnic?" he asked eventually. Dean bit his lip, this was the first time the ex-angel had failed to say exactly what was on his mind. The hunter wondered if he should push the issue but decided to answer the question first, to give Cas time to collect himself.
"I'm not sure, Cas."
Cas frowned. "I thought you all knew everything like that."
Dean laughed, deciding to let the 'you all' go as well. Cas still had trouble thinking of himself as a human, unsurprising considering he'd only been one for a couple of months, as opposed to uncounted millennia as an angel.
"We're not walking encyclopaedias, Cas. I know lots of useless information, but not even Sam knows all the trivia in the world. The human brain just can't handle it."
"Then how do you find out something you don't know?"
"We ask Google," Dean said with a grin, then frowned in confusion as Cas's expression clouded over.
"Who's Google?" Cas almost hissed. "Is he one of the older gods? Do you… do you pray to him for answers?"
Dean opened his mouth to reply 'of course not,' but then thought about all the times Sam had yelled at his phone, begging for directions during a hunt, or the frantic, furtive way he himself had been using the search engine recently. Then realized he'd taken too long to answer as Cas's eyes started to smoulder dangerously. Even without his powers Cas could be downright scary when he was angry.
"No, Cas, of course not. It's just technology," Dean said hurriedly, and Cas relaxed. The former angel still treated anything to do with technology with the same cautious reverence as Dean would give a snarling tiger.
Dean quickly whipped out his phone and looked up the answer, holding the device so Cas could see what he was doing.
"It's from the French word piquenique, meaning an outing with food. Now, what did you really want to ask me?"
Cas scowled, and Dean smiled internally, knowing the former angel was jealous of his ability to read him so easily. Eventually Cas looked down at the blanket, picking at the threads, apparently mustering courage.
"If… if you've always loved me, why didn't you ever tell me how you felt?"
"Hmm, let me think," Dean said, furrowing his brow. "Why didn't I, a hopeless fuck-up of a human being, tell Castiel, the Angel of the Lord, that I was… am… desperately, hopelessly in love with him? Tough question, Cas."
Cas frowned. "Is that sarcasm?"
"You bet your sweet angelic ass it's sarcasm," Dean snorted. Then he sighed. "Look, I always told myself that if you ever asked why I acted differently around you, I wouldn't lie about it. But you didn't ask, and honestly, I probably would've lied anyway. I was too afraid of damaging our friendship, too scared of your reaction."
Cas thought about that for a few minutes, staring at Dean in that way he had that made Dean feel like the ex-angel was still seeing something that wasn't just his expression, could hear something that wasn't just his words. He tried not to squirm while Cas decided on what he wanted to say.
"You didn't need to be afraid," Cas said at last. "I have always loved you, Dean, even if I didn't know it then."
Dean caught his breath. "I love you too, Cas. So much. You know that, right?"
Cas nodded, a small smile on his lips.
"I do. But, maybe you should show me anyway?"
Dean felt his pulse quicken and reached over, pulling Cas into a tender, lingering kiss.
For once Cas was the first to pull away. Dean raised an eyebrow questioningly at his suddenly determined expression.
"What are you thinking, Cas?" he asked, although he already knew. The look in the ex-angel's eyes was enough.
Cas looked into the hunter's green eyes, feeling the almost unbearable longing shoot through him, too strong to resist. And saw an answering longing on Dean's face. He breathed deeply in, and out, wondering how to phrase what he wanted, and then deciding it didn't matter. Dean would understand.
"I'm thinking we should go home."