A/N: Hello, readers! Recently, deadone1013 requested a one-shot that featured a happy moment for Cas. I hope you enjoy this one. I also want to thank Emma Winchester 424 and belle'sdarkangel for leaving kind reviews and encouraging me to keep writing.

Tattoo

If someone told Dean ten years ago that he would end up having an angel as his best friend, the old him would have laughed like it was a good joke, scoff at the existence of all things holy, and toss back another drink. It wasn't like he was suddenly attending Sunday mass or getting down on his knees every night to pray to some higher power; even now, it was sometimes peculiar to be reminded of everything he once doubted.

The simple truth was that he could no longer imagine a world without Castiel, just as he could not live in a world without his brother Sam. He had come to accept Cas as a second brother—someone who was there to support him, fight alongside him, care whether he lived or died, and even save him and Sam more times than he could count. Sometimes they argued, but that was what family did. Despite the imperfections, they had each other's backs when it mattered most. It was them against the world and, more importantly, it gave Dean a good reason to keep fighting day in and out.

Nothing reminded Dean more of having a little brother than the times Cas followed his example or tried his best to make him proud. It was what Sam did, too—copied Dean when he was a kid, aiming to be like him in every way, wearing a goofy grin before Dean clapped him on the shoulder and said "good job, Sammy."

It was what Cas was doing now.

"Sam, Dean," Cas practically sang as he hurried down the stairs, into the heart of the bunker.

The Winchesters glanced up in unison from where they lounged in the library. Sam was surrounded by a series of books, papers, and his laptop while Dean zeroed in on a freshly-prepared hamburger from their own kitchen. All of it was momentarily forgotten and they exchanged questioning looks. Mostly, whenever Cas sought them out so suddenly, it was to deliver terrible news, but this time he might as well have tap-danced down the stairs. Possibly the strangest part was the smile.

"You'll never guess what I have done."

The three of them fell into silence and Cas' blue eyes flew from one brother to the other. Only then did it occur to Dean that the angel actually expected them to guess.

"Did you do something with your hair?" he remarked. Cas never struck him as the type to embrace change. Hell, he'd been wearing the same damn trench coat suit combo since the day they met. His hair was no exception—always well-groomed, black and sleek as demons' eyes, every last hair precise. The one time Dean dared to ruffle Cas' hair, the angel wasn't happy until every strand was back in place.

Cas was obviously the drama queen of their brotherly trio.

"You made it back into Heaven?" Sam guessed.

Thanks to the angel Metatron—or Meta-Dick, as Dean preferred to call him—all of the angels had been cast out of Heaven. Cas had become human when he fell, since Metatron stole his grace to make the spell work. Even if he had some of his grace back, his full potential would not return until he was accepted back into Heaven.

"Unfortunately, no," Cas admitted, some of his cheeriness dampened. "If I had my full power back, you'd know." Dean had no doubt about that. They wouldn't be able to open their eyes for a week straight if Cas flaunted his natural angelic holiness. "Give up?"

The two brothers shrugged and Dean gestured for Cas to get on with it. Cas slid off his trench coat and draped it gingerly over the back of a chair. Then he removed his tie, followed by his suit jacket. By this time, Dean's eyes widened in disbelief and Sam's mouth fell open.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Cas! What the hell are you doing?" Dean exclaimed, averting his eyes to the ceiling. Oh, hell, he thought, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He hasn't been watching the pizza man again, has he? Is he practicing?

Just in case, Dean closed his eyes.

"Oh, wow," Sam said in that surprised, hesitant way that made Dean not want to open his eyes anytime soon. His imagination supplied enough of a visual. He felt Sam's elbow poke his ribs. "It's okay, Dean. You can look." I don't think I want to risk it.

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him and he opened one eye. Then he opened both eyes.

Much to his relief, Cas was still more or less fully-clothed; he had unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it away from his neck to reveal something neither brother would have seen otherwise. At the same time, the sight was familiar. A black anti-possession tattoo branded Cas' skin, on his chest above his heart. The skin around it was red and raw, a sign that it was fresh. Both Sam and Dean had a tattoo just like it to ward off demons.

"It's just like yours," Cas echoed Dean's thoughts. His lips were stretched wide with that goofy grin, awaiting their approval. Dean whistled.

"Aw, look at him, Sam. He's so proud," Dean said, patting Cas on the head and ruffling his hair. Sam nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I know. He's like the first angel to get inked up. What brought this on?" he inquired. Cas released his collar, letting the fabric of his shirt conceal the tattoo again.

"Losing my grace has taught me many things about being human. For one thing, humans are so fragile and susceptible to countless dangers in the world. Truly, you two deserve more credit. I learned how to sleep—and when I slept, I had this recurring nightmare of Crowley possessing my body. My lips were moving, but a British accent came out. It was disturbing. So I figured I should invest in this tattoo, in case I ever become human again."

"Good call," the brothers said together.

"I might even get a third one—" Cas hinted. Dean held up his hand.

"Easy, tiger. Let's not get too crazy."

….