A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAAAAAAAAAAAS! I hope you crazy kids had great holiday-times and got lots of presents. I sure did! Also, I wrote you a chapter that actually has Cas in it, so Hooray! Spoiler alert: bodily contact shall ensue.

As you know, everyone who reviews is totally awesome. You guys left me some wonderful, festive reviews for the last chapter and made me so ridiculously happy. In the spirit of Christmas, if you review this chapter then I will send you your very own squadron of elves to be your loyal toy-making slaves! You can also dress them up in adorable outfits and remind them that they're not really people. They should stop crying within two to three weeks, when the Stockholm syndrome kicks in.

And now, the chapter.


A week passed, and still no sign of Cas. Not exactly unusual considering the whole "battle royale" thing going on in Heaven, but Dean had thought – he'd thought they'd kinda been in the middleof something. He tried not to think too hard about it and concentrated on tracking down Gabriel's horn (which had ended up in Oslo, of all places).

And then one night Dean walked out to the empty parking lot outside their motel room, and prayed. Hey Cas, if you're not too busy… we got an address for Gabriel's horn. Figured maybe you'd wanna go pick it up.

The streetlight above him flickered.

Dean didn't even have to look behind him to know that Cas was standing there somberly.

He chuckled dully and hung his head as he turned, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets for warmth. "You know, you act like we're such good pals… Sometimes I forget that you didn't visit me for a year."

Cas just gazed at him, waiting expectantly for that address.

Dean swallowed, and the empty smirk on his face shrank a little. "Why didn't you. Visit me." Nobody is that busy.

Cas cocked his head slightly. "Because you never called."

Okay. That was fair. What would he have done, anyways, if Cas had shown up in Lisa's kitchen? He would've told him to get the hell out of there. So he was bitching over nothing, really. Cas had known that he was starting over, and he'd respected that.

So why did it still bother him?

"Anyways, here's the address." Dean handed over the crumpled piece of note paper, wishing he had a good excuse not to hand it over just yet. "How goes the war?"

"Difficult." Cas's voice dropped a decibel, and he stared at the note in his hand. "My followers are strong, but they are few. I don't know what will happen to them if I lose; Raphael can be petty, and vindictive. I fear for them."

"Hey, don't talk like that," Dean insisted, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Gotta think positive and all that crap. 'Sides, you got the Winchesters on your side." He clapped him emphatically. "Sam and I are awesome at fucking things up, so you can count on us to be a pain in Raphael's celestial ass."

Cas glanced at the hand on his shoulder, and back at Dean.

It was weird, because it was just the kind of thing that would normally make Dean leap away like he was touching a hot stove, but for some reason… he didn't. He actually had the urge to slide his hand up to Castiel's neck, let it rest against his skin, gently slip his fingers into his hair, kiss him soft and slow and reassuring – but he didn't. He just kept it there. Let it weigh on Cas's shoulder.

Cas's blue eyes were troubled. "I'm sorry for the way I acted before," he began in a low voice. "It was – wrong of me to – "

"No," Dean interrupted. "Don't apologize. I was – well, I was lying to you, saying I'm not attracted to you. You weren't wrong to be irritated with me. It's just…" He sighed wearily, and let his hand fall from his shoulder. "This is the worst possible time. For both of us. I just got out of a… a pretty serious relationship, and you, you're in the middle of a war… And, I mean, I'm always up for fun and games but, I just don't know if – if I'm ready to have strings attached."

"So what you're saying is," Cas replied slowly, "that we should not be sexually intimate."

Fuck. How did he always find the single most awkward way of putting things? "Yes, that's what I'm saying," Dean affirmed. "I'm not happy about it, but. I don't want you to get hurt, and… I don't want to get hurt either." He swallowed the lump in his throat. Much as Cas probably cared, he wasn't the best communicator, and he had a tendency to leave suddenly and not return. Dean had been left too many times by the people he loved for that to be easy to deal with. "And if we start something at this stage of the game, it seems pretty inevitable."

Cas paused, and then nodded. "I agree."

"You agree?" Dean asked incredulously.

He looked into Dean's eyes. "Yes."

"Oh." Dean pursed his lips. "Well, then, good."

And then they were kissing soft and quick and –

What the fuck?

Dean pulled away, frowning at Cas. "Dude! Why'd you do that?"

Cas frowned back, just as puzzled. "I didn't. You kissed me."

"No, you definitely kissed me," Dean countered.

Cas's brows lowered even further. "Dean. I think I would have remembered if – "

And Cas's lips were warm and gentle and teasing at Dean's, meeting his in short, shallow kisses like Dean was made of something sweet and Cas was just trying to get a taste. Against his will Dean sagged into him a little and let his fingers curl around a swath of trenchcoat –

"Seriously!" Dean exclaimed. "You said you agreed!"

"I do!" Cas protested just as indignantly. "Stop kissing me, Dean. We will both regret it."

"I swear to God, it's not me," Dean said, deadly serious. "No, I swear to Metallica it's not me." And he was telling the fucking truth.

But Cas didn't lie. Dean wasn't even sure Cas knew how to lie.

Cas looked bewildered. "Well, if it's not you, and it's not me, how does it keep happening?"

And Dean couldn't answer because his mouth was otherwise occupied, tasting and touching and making obscene little smacking noises with Cas's and it felt so good and so right but strangely, it wasn't really a sex thing, not that it wasn't turning him on a little but there was no urgency, no overwhelming all-consuming lust just – nice.

It was just nice.

Finally Castiel sighed and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should leave –"

"No!" Dean blurted, grabbing his sleeve. His brain always forgot that there was no way he could stop Cas from going if he wanted. "Look, obviously this is happening whether we like it or not."

Cas raised his head. "Don't you like it?"

"Fuck yeah, I like it," Dean asserted without even thinking. Wow. That was – weird. Way to out-gay yourself, Dean. "What I mean is – maybe we shouldn't try and stay apart completely. Maybe we should just… keep things low key."

Cas blinked.

"Like, keep it middle school," Dean explained. "Nothing… sexual. Do you think – you think you can do that?"

Cas gave him a deprecating look. "Dean. I've been chaste for several millennia. I think I can control myself." He didn't even have to add Unlike some people for Dean to catch his unspoken meaning.

"Hey," Dean protested. "I can do it. I can do anything I set my mind to."

A hint of a smile curled at the corner of Cas's mouth. "We'll see."

And he was gone.