(A/N) Gen for this chapter, guys kissing whut-

Wrath


Dean gets angry about a lot of things, like when Sam changes the radio station, or when a job goes wrong or when his favorite jacket gets covered in blood and guts and he has to sit there later cleaning the foul smelling fluids away. But there's one thing that makes Dean so angry he wants to punch a mirror, it's when Cas implies that Sam and he should be following the archangel's orders like good dogs. Cas never means to elicit these bouts of hate, but it does catch him off guard and he has to pause a moment to think of a defense or something to placate the hunter with. Usually it's just an apology.

It doesn't take a lot for Dean to realize when he gets so worked up that his fists are clenched and his jaw set tight in resentment for the high angels. He sees the way Cas' eyes flick to Sam, as if his brother will join in and gang up on the garrison captain. That little spark of doubt stops Dean, makes him take a step back, form sentences that don't include damning Castiel's superiors and relax the muscles in his hand. Needless to say it's happened a few times and if he could, he would reassure the angel in some way, just not touchy feely share your emotions moments was all.

He gets his chance days after a particularly bad round of guest appearances from both angels and demons, as if they had planned the week out and synchronized their watches and counted down on their calendars. Dean doesn't even bother to call Cas that night, just throws himself into the motel bed that creaks and burrows under the covers to sleep. It feels good for the most part, letting the tension in his shoulders melt into the mattress and listening to Sam putter around the room till sleep finally closes over him.

Everything feels like a blur, his dreams are disjointed and confusing till they even out and swim into focus. He knowshe's dreaming because there can't be any other reason he'd sit at a lake like the entire world wasn't crawling with nightmares. The bench he's sitting on is new and he realizes it's because Cas is sitting next to him looking apprehensive, if that was even possible to see on the guy's face.

"Hello Dean."

Oh, formality, Cas must be wary of him and Dean sighs and hates himself a bit more.

"Hey Cas, how's it going?"

The angel nods stiffly, "Well, more demons fall every day."

"Tell me about it."

Dean sets the fishing rod down, leans back and, because it's his friggin dream, imagines a beer into his hand and takes a swig of it.

"How are you Dean?"

"Business is booming, everything must go, nothing left sort of pace."

"I...see."

He can't stop but chuckle, Cas doesn't get the reference and his amusement fades when he realizes Cas isn't going to ask the meaning because he's walking on eggshells at the moment.

"Listen, Cas, don't think you have to wait to be called to show up, I mean I'm not mad at you or anything..."

He trails off and grimaces because he isn't good at this sort of crap. Though the way Cas seems to relax gives him hope and he smiles. Cas tries and Dean bites back a laugh as the man twitches in his attempt. The angel gives up and Dean takes another drink content to sit and enjoy the company.

"Dean, I know your relationship with the other angels is...not good. I apologize for having to bring them up."

"No, Cas, there's no relationship to it, I want nothing to do with them. I don't want those bastards suddenly stepping into my life and acting like entitled pricks trying to order Sammy and me around."

"I realize it can be difficult to adjust to but-"

"There's no 'but' Cas-" he grips the bottle a little tighter and raises his voices, "if it wasn't for you Cas I'd be trying to stake every one of those feather heads. Just because they decided now of all times to show up doesn't mean I'll roll over and play nice. I'm sick of-"

Dean is just getting his stride, the anger boiling in his stomach when Cas actually huffsand leans forward and...and kisses him. Everything sort of freezes, the ripples on the lake, the droplets sliding down the beer bottle and the first thing Dean thinks is Cas could really improve on his form. The angel leans back, stiff and anxious and clears his throat.

"I-I've seen many humans perform this action, it seems to calm the receiver down, I-"

"Cas," Dean cuts him off quickly, "don't. I get it; I can be annoying so you needed a way to shut me up."

Cas gives him an incredulous look, "When you put it like that Dean I sound tired of you."

"Nah, you couldn't be as much as you come around."

Dean means for the statement to be light, except he falls head first into the trap he's unwittingly laid for himself. Cas stares at him, searching and leaning just a bit closer.

"I enjoy your company greatly Dean."

The air between them feels thicker and Dean's forgotten he's got a beer warming in his hand.

"Yeah, likewise."

"Dean, while I know you are not worked up at the moment, might I try that again."

"I might just get worked up in a minute and yes, come here."

He leans forward as well, pressing his lips to Cas' hesitant ones and wonders just when he'd grown so fond of the angel. The kiss, or kisses because he presses two more just for good measure to Cas' lips, are chaste because honestly, getting involved with a supernatural being hadn't exactly been on his to do list, let alone a male one. When he sits back and Cas is still hovering somewhere near the middle he gives a lopsided smile.

"Thanks, for checking up on me that is."

"Of course Dean."

They stare at each other, silence stroking over the minutes to slow the time when Dean all but frowns when Cas' eyes flick skyward.

"I am being-"

"Go. I'm good here."

Cas nods and in the blink of an eye he's gone, the world created by Cas shreds apart and Dean wakes up with a gasp.