A healthy dose of awesome!Dean in this chapter.
...
Dean's had enough of this. This house is getting so packed with girly emotions it's starting to feel like a high school drama movie. Sam's boyfriend is playing hard-to-get? Well, Dean's picked up on a few Angel-snagging tips.
He heads to the kitchen, glancing around to be sure that no one's around- Bobby's in town getting "groceries" (whiskey, beer and more whiskey, the staples of any household), and Cas is upstairs with Sam, no doubt having a talk about feelings and cute clothes and which boy they think is gonna ask them to the Prom.
Rolling his eyes, Dean bends to grab the battered mixing bowl and a spoon, a bag of sugar, a half-empty carton of eggs, and, after several minutes of digging around, a bag of flour. The chocolate chips are easy enough; there's bags of them everywhere. It takes another ten minutes to find the waffle maker.
The first batch is slightly crispier than it should be- it's been, like, two years since he's made waffles- but the second batch is golden and perfect and he sets the plate out conspicuously on the table, turning his back to it to pour more batter into the iron.
Of course, when he turns back around, half the waffles are suspiciously absent. He smirks victoriously. "Okay, get your ass out here."
There's a few beats of silence, then a heavy sigh and a snap, and Gabriel materializes in the doorway, cheeks bulging with pilfered breakfast pastry. "Pretty clever, Dean-o," he admits grudgingly, still chewing.
"Siddown," Dean snaps, pointing to the chairs around the table.
Gabriel sits down.
"Right," the human heaves a bracing sigh and begins. "Now, you listen the hell up, cos there is no way I'm ever repeating this, and if asked about this conversation later, I will feign complete ignorance. Got me?"
"Ooh, Dean, so forceful today," the Archangel grins. "Is that how Cassie-boy likes it? Ew, you know what, no, don't answer that. Forget I asked that."
Dean, as is usually the case when the subject of him and Castiel is brought up, flusters indignantly. "What? No! What? Just- just shut up and listen."
Gabriel places both elbows on the tabletop, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hands, the perfect image of rapt attention. Dean shakes his head in grudging determination.
"God, I can't believe I'm gonna say this. Shut it." He adds threateningly before the smirking being can make a comment.
Gabriel makes a show of cramming an entire waffle into his mouth, closing it, and miming a zipper across his lips.
Sighing again and hating this conversation already, the hunter leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest in the most aggressive fashion he can manage.
"Okay. So." He closes his eyes briefly, thinks This is for Sam, remember, and he's gonna owe me forever after this, and plunges on. "So I get that maybe you and Sam are having like- I don't even- like a lover's spat or something, and apparently something happened that he somehow missed, and now you're all butthurt-"
"Really, Dean? Really."
Dean winces. "Okay, so bad word choice, I walked right into that one."
The smaller man nods, smirking and shoveling another waffle in.
The human shakes himself and continues. "And I know you and Cas both like to do the whole 'I'm a mysterious Angel of the mysterious Lord of mystery and I keep my feelings bottled up like a New England housewife'-"
"Accurate assessment."
"-Seriously, shut up. And I know Sam seems like a big emotionally volatile teddy bear or whatever that just spends all day waxing poetic about his feelings and the feelings of everyone around him and shit, but when it comes to important relationship stuff he's actually pretty... self-contained. He has- he has trust issues, big shock. After the whole fiasco with She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named, he sort of gave up on his whole 'settle down with someone and live the simple life' dream. And I think that really hurt him."
For once, the Trickster's honey-gold eyes seem to lose their wry, humorous barb of light. He looks like he's taking this conversation seriously for the first time, and Dean can't help but feel a rush of big-brotherly relief at that, at knowing that his words are getting through. This is the right thing to do.
"But sometimes, I catch him looking at you, and he's got that look. I can just tell what he's thinking, clear as day. And I can tell he's picturing a nice house, and a white-picket fence and a dog and all that jazz, and you know what? He fucking glows when he looks at you like that." He takes a breath. "And yeah, sure, you're an Archangel, you've got battle scars like whoa, daddy issues, trust issues, blah blah blah, but don't you dare try and tell me that you don't wanna be the one living that perfect life with him. Because I've seen you look at him, too, when you think nobody will notice. So you know what? Fuck both of you and your insecurities; you're not allowed to let one little thing mess you up, because you guys love each other."
Gabriel is silent for a long time, eyes down, and his voice is soft when he says, "He does glow."
Dean scowls. "Yeah, I know, and if you ever tell him I said any of this- especially that part- I will find a way to Angel-shank you in the balls."
"That's precious," the Archangel says, his grin returning as he stands and brushes crumbs from his jacket. "And what's really amusing about this is the fact that someday in the near future I'm pretty sure I'll have to give you a similar speech."
The hunter's frown deepens. "What d'you mean?"
"I mean," Gabriel reaches across the table and gently boops Dean's nose, earning a swat and a glare, "Take your own advice. Your brother's not the only Winchester that gets all glowy and gooey-eyed over their personal Angel." He turns and heads for the stairs, hands in his pockets as he adds over his shoulder, "Look at it this way: poor little Castiel has waited since the birth of creation to get properly laid. Are you really enough of a dick to make him wait even longer?" On that note, he vanishes up the stairs, leaving Dean to his thoughts.