Here we go! Cas has at least started shuffling towards the truth. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm quite fond of it. I'm sure you won't need any help realising what's troubling Dean towards The End of this chapter but I just gave you a clue anyway... ;) Please review! Big thanks to all the people following this story, I hope it continues to please you!


"May I please have a cup?"

Dean jumps as I ask the question directly behind him, leaning over his shoulder and inhaling his scent along with the smell of the fresh coffee. He glances sideways at me and I watch the skin on his neck flush, fascinated by the colour change.

"Uh, sure," he mumbles, sliding quickly away from me to reach up and grab a mug from the cupboard. I frown in disappointment and lean my hip against the counter top. Absently, I take the sugar jar and pull the lid off, glancing down as I lick my finger and dab at the white crystals. I look back up at Dean as I place my finger back in my mouth, sucking slowly. He freezes with the mug in his hand, staring at me with his lips parted.

"That's unhygienic," he says hoarsely after a beat of silence, putting the mug heavily down on the counter and slamming the cupboard closed. I quickly take my finger from my mouth, dismayed at his clear irritation.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, replacing the sugar jar in its spot. I sigh down at my feet. Maybe I was wrong about Dean possibly wanting me. It was a ludicrous idea, really. Dean is making the coffee in silence and I watch him, noting the tension in his shoulders and the distracted frown on his face. He completes his task and turns sharply, shoving the coffee towards me, clearly expecting me to be ready and waiting rather than lost in my own thoughts. The coffee misses my hands and hits my chest, splashing the hot brown liquid all over my shirt. I jump and swear in shock and pain and Dean echoes me, dropping the mug to smash at my feet.

"Shit, sorry, oh crap, I am so sorry," he gabbles as he steps closer, mug shards crunching under his shoes, eyes wide and horrified. The coffee burned on my skin at first but the sting is quickly subsiding, although my face is frozen in surprise. I blink down at the stain on my shirt and then look up at Dean.

"It's alright," I assure him, reaching out and squeezing his arm. His green gaze is full of remorse and I smile, touched that he's worried about something as small as spilling a hot drink on me. At least I can be sure that Dean cares about me, even if just as a friend; that's the most important thing.

"Damn it..." he sighs, rubbing a hand tiredly against his face, but he returns my smile ruefully. "Swear I'm not usually that clumsy. You OK?"

I nod. The liquid wasn't hot enough to do any real damage. "I'm fine. The shirt is ruined, though."

Dean surveys the stained material. "Nah, I reckon that might come out with some stain remover. Probably should go put it in the wash right away, though."

I nod seriously as Dean turns away, crouching to open a low cupboard. About to leave the room, I pause as a thought occurs to me, and though I hesitate and bite my lip, I can't resist the opportunity. I pull my plaid shirt off and lay it on the counter as Dean takes a dustpan and brush from the cupboard, then my vision is obscured as I yank the sodden t shirt over my head. When I emerge from the cotton, Dean has stood back up, the dustpan and brush dangling loosely from one hand. He's staring at my bare torso sort of like he was in the laundry, but more like the way he looked at me when I stepped out of the changing room in my new outfit and when I cleaned up after returning from Purgatory.

It seems that taking my shirt off again was a good idea. I tilt my head at Dean, highly interested in the way his wide eyes drag across my skin and his mouth hangs open as though he's forgotten how to control his face. He just looks so fascinated and his breathing has definitely picked up. He doesn't seem to be disapproving or offended, but why else would he be staring at my bare flesh as though his entire attention has been captured by it? I bite my lip, unwilling to jump to conclusions but unable to quash the flutter of hopeful excitement in my belly.

"Dean," I say softly. He jumps and blushes brightly as his eyes meet mine.

"Sorry," he blurts out. I furrow my brow in puzzlement and he snaps his mouth shut, looking annoyed. "I meant, uh, sorry again. For the coffee. Can't see a mark though."

He gestures at my chest without looking at it, eyes going instead to the counter top beside him. I nod, looking down at myself.

"I don't think there will be. I'd better go and put this in the washing machine though. You said to use a special stain remover? Where might I find that?"

"In the cupboard next to the machine. Blue bottle with a yellow label, or maybe green, I don't know."

Dean is looking down at the dustpan and brush in his hands as he speaks, fiddling with them, his voice oddly clipped. I mutter thanks and turn away, hearing him sigh behind me as he starts clearing up the mug. I stop and turn back, stepping up to where he kneels on the kitchen floor, head bent down towards his task.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I should have offered to help. Is there anything I can do?"

He pauses and slowly looks up at me where I stand over him, clutching my shirt in one hand. As before, his eyes skim over my torso, but this time they also flicker down to my crotch, which is only just above his eye level. I shift uncomfortably in the silence, waiting for him to reply. Dean kneels up straighter, eyes latching onto mine, the green shimmering like the reflective armour of a beetle. I get lost in the colour within a few moments and my mind wanders lazily, thinking that Dean looks incredibly good from this angle, that there's something strangely appealing about the way he's staring up at me through his lashes, lips parted and gaze intense. I flush as my devious brain suddenly presents me with memories of seeing human lovers on Earth over the years posed like this, and the thought of Dean being on his knees before me like that, for worship of an entirely sinful kind, is unbearably provocative. My heart rate and breathing stumble and speed up as I stare down at Dean's mouth. I feel dizzy. I feel mad. I feel like if I stand here for another fucking moment I might pass out or-

"Um, wow, what is going on here?"

Dean and I both visibly twitch in surprise and I draw my breath in sharply as I wrench my eyes from his face to look at the doorway. Kevin is standing there, eyebrows raised comically high, a rucksack slung over one shoulder. I step smartly back from Dean, holding the damp, bundled shirt in front of me defensively, although I'm not sure why I feel threatened. Kevin is staring at my bare torso but there's none of the entranced focus of Dean's gaze. I open my mouth to speak but Dean beats me to it, his voice too casual.

"Oh, hey, Kev. I dropped a mug, spilled coffee all over Cas, clearing it up. How you been doing?"

Kevin looks at Dean and smiles faintly. "Yeah, not bad. Needed the break, that's for sure. You?"

"Yeah, all good here," shrugs Dean, and I glance at him to see that he's sweeping the mug shards into the dustpan, face blank. I look back at Kevin but the boy is already watching me with interest.

"So you're human now, yeah?" he asks me, shifting the strap of his bag. I nod slowly. Kevin whistles. "That's rough, man. You moved in here?"

"Yes," I reply quietly. Kevin glances at my chest again and looks back down at Dean, who's taking a long time to clear the broken mug up.

"Gotta say," remarks Kevin, staring at Dean for a moment before returning his dark, intelligent gaze to me, "You're a lot more buff than you usually look with that trench coat on. Is that an angel thing, or do you work out?"

I blink, thinking about it. I try to remember what my vessel was like when I first began using it. Much the same, I think. "I don't, um, work out. The original owner of this body did though. He had gym equipment in his home. Once I took him as a vessel, my grace maintained the body and I suppose the musculature was part of that. Now that I'm human, I imagine that I'll have to exercise and maintain a regular fitness schedule if I want to continue looking, as you say, 'buff'."

Kevin chuckles but Dean remains silent, finally standing and striding over to the bin to dispose of the broken mug. I'm starting to get a little unnerved by his closed off expression. Kevin, however, is eyeing him thoughtfully.

"Dean can help you with that," he says, smiling. Dean, who's wet a cloth from the sink and is kneeling back down on the floor to clean up the spilled coffee, jerks his head up and narrows his eyes at the younger man.

"Help with what?" he says gruffly. Kevin sighs as though Dean is testing his patience.

"You have a gym room somewhere in this place, right? And like, look at you, you clearly work out. I mean, not as much as Sam, but-"

"Sam eats rabbit food and spends all his damn time jogging, so if that's the price to pay for looking like a male model, no thanks," snaps Dean defensively. Kevin smirks.

"OK, OK. But you do work out, right?"

Dean's eyes flick to me and away again so fast I almost miss it. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

Kevin spreads his hands out. "Then it's settled! You can be Cas's personal trainer, make sure he's getting plenty of exercise, staying fit, keeping his abs in shape."

I stare between the two men, thoroughly confused by Kevin's interest in the shape of my 'abs', whatever they are. Dean visibly gulps, eyes widening. He glances at me again, shaking his head.

"Cas can use the gym on his own. That's his business. I ain't anybody's personal trainer."

"Ah, come on, Dean," replies Kevin casually. "Help the poor guy out, he's never had to actually work on his fitness before. Besides... I'm sure you can think of a few ways to get him sweating, huh?"

Kevin winks at Dean, who gapes at him in clear disbelief. Waving at me, Kevin exits the room, leaving a ringing silence in his wake. I frown in confusion. That whole exchange was very puzzling. Kevin is an odd boy, but perhaps all prophets are unusual people. Turning to Dean, I'm surprised to find him hunched over his task on the floor, neck and ears bright red. He looks mortified.

"I would actually greatly appreciate some direction in maintaining my physical strength, Dean." I venture after a drawn out pause. Dean scrambles to his feet and turns to the sink again without looking at me, so I continue to talk, an odd human reaction to the tension in the room. As an angel I probably would have stood in silence or simply left. "Before I fell I was infinitely more powerful and it's disconcerting to feel so weak as a human. I wouldn't want to feel any weaker."

Rinsing and squeezing the cloth out, Dean slaps it down in the sink and finally turns to face me, his eyes hostile. I shrink back in dismay.

"You think humans are so crappy?" he snarls, stepping towards me. "You think we're so weak?"

"What? No, I-"

"Well, sorry you feel that way, but being crappy and weak is sort of the human condition, so you may as well get fuckin' used to it. Welcome to the club-"

He stops suddenly, looking strangely aghast at what he's just said, and stares at me blankly. It's like he's looking through me, like he's remembering something. He's really starting to worry me. Twisting the shirt in my hands, I step hesitantly towards him and his eyes flicker back to life, as though he's come back from wherever he was.

"Dean, I don't think you're crappy or weak. You know that. I... I think you're amazing. All of you, all of humanity, although I'll admit that I'm guilty of favouritism."

I smile wryly at him and he relaxes a little, his mouth pulling up at the corner. I continue in haste, glad to see his mood softening.

"It's like you said. I'm adjusting. I miss being an angel, Dean, and I probably always will. Humans are wonderful, you and Sam have shown me that, but being one is hard for me and-"

"I'll help you," Dean interrupts. His voice is firm and solemn, the words spoken as a promise. I raise my eyebrows in surprise at his sudden change of attitude and he nods seriously at me. "If you need help adjusting, I'll make sure you have it. So will Sam. Just..."

He swallows and continues more quietly, glancing down at the floor. "Promise me you won't go off the rails. Even if being human is shitty and difficult, promise me you won't start... popping pills and... and sleeping around. And stuff."

"Why would I-"

"Just promise," he snaps, eyes fierce. I close my mouth and nod, holding his gaze. He sighs, shakes his head and turns back to the sink.

"Good. Better go put that shirt in the wash."

I stare at him for a moment longer before slowly turning and making my way back to the laundry. What a strange morning.