Several weeks later in a hotel room in Turlock, Dean walked from the kitchenette to the bedroom door to call Sam, but stopped in the doorway and looked at his brother. Sam was curled under the blankets, laptop slid from his fingers, eyes closed. Dean sighed.
A soft flutter of wings almost below the threshold of hearing alerted him to Castiel's presence. Castiel moved up behind Dean and nudged between him and the door frame to see what he was looking at. It was like being nudged aside by a slow-moving train.
Castiel looked at Sam. "It's almost a shame to wake him."
Dean shrugged, then their eyes met and he laughed softly. Dean whispered, "Hell, Cas, if you and I can't take out a poxy nest of vampires by ourselves by now, we're both in the wrong line of business. Let's leave him sleep."
He loved Sam, he really did. But lately Dean had found himself wanting to be alone with Castiel more and more often. The opportunities were there; when Sam slept, or when he was researching and Dean offered to go pick up supplies or ammunition or beer. Sometimes Castiel would simply appear in the car behind Dean and sit there without saying a word. Dean would glance in the rear view mirror, smile and look back to the road. Sometimes Dean would feel him there beside or behind him, know he was there, but he wouldn't appear.
He didn't have to look around to know that Castiel was behind him as they fought the vampires late that night, because his back was pressed against Castiel's; it felt like he was leaning back on moving steel. Dean's arm was aching from lopping off vampire heads, and the stench of their dark blood assaulted his nose. But behind him, the flare of white light from Castiel's eyes and the neat snick of his angel blade through vampire necks told Dean he was safe from that direction.
Then the last vampire head was detached from its neck, and Dean felt the familiar buzz of being transported away by Castiel as the police sirens sounded from the main road. The light changed and he realized they were somewhere else, a quiet back street. He wondered if they were in the same town. It didn't seem to matter to Castiel; he would transport them a mile or a thousand miles, depending on his energy levels and inclination. It was nothing for Dean to be fighting demons or vampires in the middle of the night one second, and find himself in a sunny field in France the next.
But this wasn't France, and it wasn't daytime. Dean felt behind him and felt rough timber and bricks. From the smells and sounds around them, he figured it was a back alley in some American city.
Suddenly Dean found himself grabbed by the throat and pushed hard up against the wall. For a moment he thought from the strength and speed, it was another vampire, somehow transported accidentally with him and Castiel. But then he realized it was Castiel staring at him from inches away, holding him by the neck. Castiel was looking anything but angelic. His blue eyes were dark with anger and his mouth was slightly open. He looked flushed and flustered.
Dean looked from side to side, wondering if Castiel had thrust him aside to protect him from an unseen enemy. The angel was still, though, one hand passive at his side, a slight tremor in his hand the only thing giving away the tension in that arm. As Dean met his eyes again, the dark gleam in them softened and Castiel leaned in close, so that his open mouth was nearly touching Dean's. Castiel released his grip slightly.
Dean coughed. "Dammit, Cas! You nearly choked me."
For a moment Castiel held Dean's gaze, but then he relaxed his grip a little more, looking abashed. "Sorry."
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"I…" Castiel looked down and away, and released Dean completely. "Nothing."
Dean frowned, tilting his head slightly to try to assess Castiel's expression. "Don't lie to me. You're lousy at lying."
"You nearly died!" Castiel burst out, his voice ragged and edged with fury. "You should take more care. Even when I'm there, it would take a split second. There are rules, Dean. We can't bring people back every time. Not even you."
Dean rubbed his throat. "It's hunting, Cas. It's what I do."
Castiel did not look at him. Dean whispered, "Hey."
Castiel stared at the ground. Then he spoke, his voice raspy. "You're safe now."
And then he was gone.
Dean swore. He yelled to the air around him, "You're a great damned communicator, Cas, you know that? Really easy to talk to. Has anyone ever told you that? How am I supposed to talk to you if you're not even damned here?"
He had sworn and spoken to Castiel after he had disappeared many times in the past, and there was something Dean always noticed; Castiel never came back.
So when the angel manifested right in front of him, wings looming black over them both, body glowing like molten metal and his face white with what Dean assumed was anger, Dean flinched away.
Castiel took one step forward and put a hand around the back of Dean's head. Dean didn't quite know what he had done to upset Castiel initially, but he figured it didn't matter because he wouldn't have time to figure it out anyway; he was obviously about to die at the angel's hands.
Castiel pulled his face effortlessly close, even though Dean fought the pressure with all the strength in his body and neck.
He was still fighting when Castiel's lips touched his.
Then Dean forgot what fighting was, and maybe even how to move at all.
Castiel's mouth was like a furnace, but his hands around Dean's head were feather-light, and the pressure of his lips was careful and gentle.
The alley darkened as the glow from Castiel softened and his wings lowered to cocoon them both in blackness and the smell of feathers. Dean felt himself melt into the kiss before he knew what he was doing.
"Cas," he mumbled around Castiel's lips.
Cas pushed Dean back against the wall and moved his hands to run them from Dean's forehead back over his head, pinning his hair back and deepening the kiss. He explored Dean's mouth with his tongue. Dean heard a faint whimper and felt his knees sag until they bumped forward against Castiel's legs. He could feel the steel behind the gentleness, the power barely leashed in Castiel's careful hands, the slight tremor in Castiel's lips as he fought not to crush Dean in his embrace. The tremor increased incrementally.
Suddenly Castiel pulled his mouth away. "I can't," he choked out harshly. "I'm losing control."
He stepped back and Dean let him.
Castiel then hesitated as he met Dean's gaze. "Was it… good? Right?"
Dean started to shake his head, started to nod, to breathe, to speak – started to do so many things at once that he stood there staring stupidly. Eventually he found his voice. "Yes."
Castiel smiled, his eyes shy. Then he looked terrified and Dean realized he was going to disappear again. The angel was standing like a deer about to bolt away.
Dean reached slowly for him as he stepped forward. "Cas, wait."
"What?"
"We don't have to do this all at once. We can work up to things. Practice, you know? We have time."
Castiel blinked. "Do we?"
Then he disappeared anyway. Dean blinked at the same time and found himself back beside his car in Turlock.
"Yes," whispered Dean to the air around him. But he wondered if he believed himself. Did they have time? Then he thought about Castiel kissing him and smiled, and couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.
