He didn't wake up.
It felt far more like putting together some kind of awareness, the way a stagehand constructs a set, and by the sights that greeted Dean's eyes when he finally pried them open, his life looked to be a fairly low budget production.
Bare concrete floor, walls showing naked beams stained with grey patches of mildew caused by unhindered water damage. Scratchy blanket that smelled questionable... it was less than thrilling to be sure.
But if the stage was anything close to depressing, the overture was enough to entice suicidal thoughts.
"-I ain't no fortunate one. Some folks inherit star spangled eyes, oh they send you down to war-"
"Why do you do this to me?" Dean's voice was like grit and broken glass.
"It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son."
"Gabriel, stop."
"Dean's awake, Dean's awake and he's glaring at meee." The little blonde Angel continued in a singsong voice, a wide smile on his face.
"I don't need this." He pressed a hand to his face trying to will himself back to unconsciousness.
"Your brother suggested that I avoid show tunes and stick to the classics when I sing to you."
"Did he also suggest keeping out of strangling distance?"
Gabe sat back in his metal folding chair beside Dean's little military cot down in Bobby's basement, still smiling but there was little enthusiasm behind it. He could put up a good front, singing and grinning and being an annoying pain in the ass, but under all that something was gravely wrong.
A thought passed though Dean's mind, just a flash of memory telling him that Gabe was not supposed to be here in Sioux Falls. The Angel should have been in Main with Sam living the deviously gay lifestyle that they had formed together for some strange reason. So why the hell was the little man hovering beside Dean, butchering a perfectly good song?
Dean bolted upright, blue wool blanket pooling over his legs. "Where's Cas?" Cas was why the other Angel had shown up. Cas had been hurt. Cas could be dead- should have been dead.
"He's watching a Spanish soap opera with your old man friend."
"He's alright?" Dean slumped back down, body feeling light in a swimmingly displaced sort of way, like he had left his head on some distant shore. Vaguely he remembered that he should hurt, he had been thrown through a plate glass windshield, after all. But everything was soft white snow and warm humming in his bones and something like that just didn't feel as important as he knew it should.
The Angel's face fell, his smile trembling away into nothingness.
Dean was sitting up again, tension gripping him through his spine. "What's wrong?"
"Don't get your panties in a twist." A hint of the former smile sparked somewhere on the edges of his thin lips. "He's better than I've seen him in years."
"So, I get whammied, you decide to move in and Cas gets to narrate the tale of Nora's illegitimate baby? We're ok for once. Why are you sitting there, looking like someone kicked your puppy?"
"Whammied?" And the smile was back in full force, this time with a bit of suggestive eyebrow waggling. "I had no idea the two of you had worked all the way up to a full whammy. I thought you were still in the noodling phase."
"I-what? We-" Dean felt his face getting hot. "No. I just meant that I can't feel my body and I've been unconscious for hours at least." If the sliver of night sky through the tiny windows mounted high on the walls was anything to go off of. "Whatever he did to me- I feel broken and more ok with it than I should be."
There was something amused and disbelieving on Gabe's face, like perhaps he had only been teasing Dean before, but now was beginning to wonder if there had not been some truth in his own words. "You're fine, you big sissy. And Cassy'll be fine too. He just - well, to put it in a way you might understand, he just needed a jumpstart."
"Jumpstart?"
"Yeah, he sort of… touched your soul. No big deal." His eyes tightened slightly as if that particular lie cost him something vital. "But he's high as a kite and good as new."
"So what's with the bitch face?" Dean still felt like a dingy that had been cut free to drift, but he was upright so he started to assess his injuries. Or he would have, if there had been to find. He didn't have a scratch on him other than the same faded, silvery scars that he had lived with for years. He couldn't even feel any traces of that lingering morose cloud that had been hanging over him since the ginger Angel exploded on the roadside. "Does this mean he's all full of Grace again? Shouldn't you be happy for your brother rejoining the Angel club?"
"Castiel isn't being straight with me."
And that made Dean almost crack a smile, because the dark haired Angel wasn't exactly being straight with him either. But then he remembered how incredibly screwed up that was and he schooled his face into a neutral-ish frown.
"Touching your soul should have put him back in the big leagues, should have been enough to get him home, safe and sound and away from all this," he gestured indistinctly around the room, "but…" He shook his head slightly.
"But what?" Maybe Cas just didn't want to go back up to heaven and whatever war was still raging on beyond mortal eyes. Dean could hope. However, the sheer fact that the hope existed somewhere quiet and very real inside of him was a distressing fact he was not ready to deal with yet.
"He's got a hole or something in him. The Grace is just leaking out- not like puddling on the floor or anything, it's just going away. You should have seen him when he woke up after touching you, like a hundred watt bulb. It was enough Grace to fix himself and your sorry ass, good as new." He inclined his head towards Dean with a tight expression. "But he's fading fast."
"And then what happens?" Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair, the cuts and blood may be gone, but there were still bit of dirt and debris in his hair and under his nails.
"He goes back to how he was this morning, just as weak and as human as you."
"Hey, there's nothin' wrong with being human."
"There is for an Angel." He pushed his hands through his own hair. "He should be back to normal, and he's not and he won't tell me why."
"It's because you're a little bitch." Ok, so maybe that was completely undeserved, but it was too late for Dean to take it back.
Gabe grinned. "Again, panties- all in a twist. Just because your brother is hot for my sweet ass and it obviously freaks you out- doesn't mean you have to be a jackass all the time. We're on the same side here." Apparently Dean's insult didn't mean too much to faze the Angel.
"Don't ever refer to Sam and your ass in the same sentence… ever again." He shuddered slightly.
"Look, I'm not saying that we need to go out and do body shots together or anything. I'm just saying that I need your help with Cassy."
Dean's teeth caught his lip for a moment. "Keep talking, shortstack."
Gabe grinned like he knew he had won. "He's not talking to me again. He asked what happened to Anduriel, I told him- he punched me and clammed up."
"What did happen to Anduur…ur… Andy the fallen angel?" He remembered meaty bits all over the gravel and his stomach churned slightly.
"I… I blew him up." He looked as ill as Dean felt. "Look, I'd rather not talk about it." He squared his shoulders. "Now, Cas likes you, god knows why, but he does. He might talk to you- tell you what's going on."
Dean was frowning again. It sounded an awful lot like he was being asked to do something touchy feely that might end in crying or hugging or something equally unmanly and unwanted. "What exactly am I asking him about?"
"Why the denarius are after him. Now, I can understand one catching his scent and going after him for fun- but two is a gross coincidence, and three is just ridiculous, especially since it was Anduriel."
"And why was that last dude such a big deal?"
Gabe made a face like he had tasted something sour. "Anduriel was Lucifer's right-hand man after the fall, his second in command. There's a war going on and last I heard he was trying to bust his boss out of the pit. And for some reason he was up here instead. A bastard like him should have much more exciting things to be doing with his time than hunting down and killing a little empty Angel shell. Something funny's going on, something rotten in the state of Denmark- and all that."
It didn't sound like a good thing to Dean either. "Wait- you blew up the assistant Satan?"
He sighed, his little body deflating slightly. "I just destroyed his vessel, don't make a big deal of it."
"You're a scary little dude. You know that?"
"You do exorcisms. It's basically the same thing."
"Can I explode fallen Angels too?" Dean honestly felt a twinge of excitement at the idea, even if it was a slightly horrific notion.
"No, but you can banish 'em, it's what Cassy did to the last two that came after him. No skill involved, no mess either." He launched himself from his chair. "Also, while you're fishing for answers, see if you can get him to tell you why they kicked him out of the club… I wasn't there when it happened."
"That sounds a little …personal." Dean was not sure, but asking an Angel why they fell from heaven didn't seem like something that you did casually. He swung his legs off the cot, readying to stand even if he couldn't quite feel the ground under his feet.
"I left because I'm a dick and didn't care if they needed me anymore. Cassy wouldn't do that." He gave a knowing sort of wink. "But I'm betting it has something to do with problem numero uno." He started to wander out of the cellar, taking the stairs at a jaunty clip, two at a time. "Use that Winchester charm, it makes us angelic sort all gooey inside."
With any and all residual masculinity he still had intact, Dean hoped to avoid making Castiel gooey.
They went to a bar because Dean did not trust being alone and close with Cas again, and if he tried to talk to him at Bobby's that is precisely what would happen. He was a strong man, but he had an obvious weakness, one that he didn't trust or know how to deal with.
The two were sitting there at the bar, low light and country-rock playing just loud enough that talking was still barely an option. Dean had a whisky, just one, and he was making an effort not to down it and order another. He was rolling the cold glass between his hands and trying to get his thoughts in line. The goal was to ask Cas what was going on, but all he could think about was the fact that they had had been kissing that afternoon. How messed up was that? Cas had almost died, an ex-Angel had exploded all over them and Dean had had his soul felt up, resulting in roughly six hours of unconsciousness- and all that mattered was that the man sitting beside him had asked Dean to talk dirty to him and then kissed him like he was getting paid to.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
But doubts should have come before he dragged Cas away from Bobby's couch and convinced him that going out to celebrate the fact that they were still alive was a good plan. It was too late now. But it wasn't a date and it was very public. Dean was almost positive that he would be able to behave himself. He was an adult after all, and in full control of his facilities, mentally and physically. Or at least that is what he liked to tell himself.
Cas was talking, not about anything important (which was one reason that Dean was more focused on his own inner storm of heterosexual doubt), just rambling on about the show he had been translating for Bobby. Apparently Nora had left and someone's grandmother was being a total bitch. It was simple and irrelevant and Dean had trouble caring about the subject, but at the same time loved hearing the man making sounds, any sounds, all sound. The Angel had a soda and a red straw and seemingly not a care in the world. Dean found him strangely beautiful, in a purely subjective and non gay way.
Gabe had been right about his little brother, there was something different about Cas. Dean didn't know about a hundred watt bulb, he didn't know what he would call it, but it was there- whatever it was. An energy just below the surface, a kind of power that made Dean nervous and a little excited at the same time to be so close to. Even if every ounce of that quiet power was being wasted on a narration of a sordid love triangle.
"Slow down there." Dean glanced over for the first time since they sat. "Take a breath and a sip of your Pepsi. No one's timing you."
The Angel did as requested, watching Dean with his impossibly blue eyes as he worked on his drink, thin red straw dimpling the edge of his lower lip.
Dean made an effort not to smile. It was more difficult than he would have liked to admit. It was just such a novel thing that the Angel would do whatever he asked. It was very tempting to abuse such power, especially if the power was over someone with such a beautiful mouth. "How you feelin', Cas?"
Those eyes blinked and the straw slipped from his lips. "I am well." He frowned slightly and looked to be thinking fast. "How do you feel, Dean?" It was the correct thing to ask, if it didn't sound so weird coming from the Angel.
He chuckled into his glass, just wetting his lips. "I'm surprisingly alright. All things considered."
Cas nodded, looking sidelong at his drink, tip of his tongue flicking out. "All things considered." He agreed softly.
"So… you headed home after this?" Dean wished Sam was here, Sam was good at this sort of thing.
"Home?" He tilted his head, eyebrows lowering slightly. "Do you mean heaven?" When Dean nodded the Angel let his lip curl softly. "No. They do not want me back. Besides, I am of much more use down here." He shifted and looked up at Dean, a shadow of worry passing over his face. "Were you hoping that I would be leaving?"
"No." He said a little too quickly, but luckily it was lost on the other man.
"I have only put you in danger since I landed on your car. Perhaps you might be safer if I were to leave."
"That's the dumbest thing I've heard in a long time. And I talked to your brother today, so that's saying something." He rolled his glass again, feeling the condensation wetting his palms. "Do you have any idea what my life is like when you're not around?"
"How would I have any idea about something like that?" He honestly sounded confused.
And Dean felt a grin. "Let me tell you something, dude. It's no cake walk."
"I don't understand that reference."
"I'm saying that nothing that's come along since I met you has been any worse than the shit I've been dealing with since I was a kid. The monsters might be different, but the dance is always the same, Cas. I was made for this. Don't go acting like some kind of martyr. This is life as normal, and honestly… I don't mind the company."
"You don't?" There was an eagerness to him now, he was leaning forward on his stool, face alight with hope.
"You know I don't."
"Because we're friends." It was not a question.
"Damn straight we are." And Dean clicked his glass against Cas' and downed the rest of the amber liquid. He would try and focus on the friend angle like the last life raft on the Titanic. But Cas was smiling at him, just the smallest curve of lips, barely a hint, but it was enough and Dean knew that he was going down.
He ordered another drink.
Dean had never been good at just talking, he had no idea how one went about slyly getting information out of someone. He could do it just fine if he was undercover, pretending to be a cop, and insurance adjuster, a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick maker- but as just plain old Dean Winchester he wasn't sure where to start. It was so much easier when he was pretending to be someone else. Cas wasn't helping matters. He didn't exactly talk like a normal sort of person one talked to in bars.
Dean ordered another drink, this one for Cas, and this one a double shot.
If the Angel wasn't normal people, maybe Dean didn't need to worry so much about normal problems that would arise from awkward conversations.
"So, are you officially an Angel again? Full of holy powers and all that shit, or whatever comes along with the title?" It would have been painfully abrupt if he was asking anyone other than Cas.
The only sign that his question might have stuck as strange or unwelcome was a momentary flash of teeth. "I never stopped being an Angel of the Lord, Dean. But no, I am not filled with 'holy powers'." He swallowed his drink like a champ and frowned into the empty glass. "What Grace I found through connecting with your soul is leaving me- quickly. It would seem that I am no longer capable of holding onto such things as I once could."
"Any ideas why?" He waved two fingers at the bartender, signing for the man to bring more drinks.
"I-" his shoulders hunched and he lowered his head. "I would rather talk of something else." His voice had grown soft and Dean had difficulty hearing it over the music.
"Sure, Cas. What d'ya wanna' talk about?" He pushed another shot between the Angel's hands.
"You have a beautiful soul-"
Dean choked on his drink.
"-we could talk about that."
"Or we could not." He looked around quickly to make sure that no one was looking at them. No one was. Small miracles.
"It was dangerous, me touching your soul… you could have died if things went badly." He was staring into his drink, eyes narrow. "I was already gone when you came to me. I heard your voice somewhere far away and it brought me back. I could not breathe on my own but you offered me air and I took it without thinking." He looked up, his gaze softening. "You saved me, Dean."
It was like he had stumbled into one of Cas and Bobby's soaps. "I… I was just trying to even the score. You saved my ass twice now. It was the least I could do." Well that was a giant lie, and as per normal, Cas seemed oblivious to the painfully counterfeit nature of it.
"Oh." His frown flashed back into place, only to be hidden behind his glass as he drank another shot. "Well, I am grateful to you, regardless of your motives."
"Hey- it's what friends do… they help each other." It was a clumsy save, but it earned Dean another of those ghost-like smiles.
"I have never had a friend before you."
"Never?" This was not a particularly helpful or surprising bit of information.
"No, but I feel you make a good first friend. I am lucky to have found you."
"My car isn't." He said with his own hint of a smile, but it hurt to say. The Impala had been taking a beating since Cas showed up. It was the only real downside so far, even if it was a big one. He quickly waved off the comment. "Don't worry about it." And Cas visibly relaxed.
They drank in silence, but it was comfortable. That was until suddenly the Angel was leaning in as Dean lowered his glass, his eyes lidded and his lips parted. Dean only had a handful of seconds to recognize the look, slide off his stool and stand up and as far away as possible without garnering too much attention.
"Cas," he hissed. "What the fuck are you doing?" He should have known better than to ask a question he didn't actually want an answer to.
"I was hoping to kiss you. I like kissing you."
People were looking at them and Dean felt his face burning up and was appreciative of the dim lighting. He pulled out his wallet and slapped some cash on the bar. He was tempted to just leave, but he had the feeling that Cas would not follow and so he would end up waiting outside for hours until he got the courage enough to go back in and fetch the Angel. It would be far more awkward if he did it that way.
"Come on." His voice was unfamiliar to him. He waited for Cas to look completely baffled, but to then stand and follow him out into the chill night air.
"You did not finish your drink, Dean." He pointed out while pulling his ugly yellow windbreaker tight around his narrow chest.
"Cas- I don't care! You can't just-" he threw his hands up in the air, circling around to the driver's side of the loaner car Bobby had given him for the night. He made an effort to lower his voice. "You can't just go around trying to kiss me whenever you want to."
"But you said it's what friends do." It was very close to a whine.
"Friends don't-" he wanted to scream in frustration, instead he pressed his hands to his eyes and swore softly. "They don't kiss like you want to kiss."
"Do they… do you mean more like how you kissed me the first time?" He did not stay on his own side of the car. They were still out under the stars and the vehicle was not staying between them, the Angel was circling the car getting closer to Dean than he was comfortable with in that moment.
"The first time?" He had no memory of that first night in the hotel, none at all of those 'nice' kisses that had left such an impression on Cas.
"On my head and cheek." He clarified.
Dean was backing up slightly, moving around to the trunk, trying to keep the distance between them. It was purely subconscious, and very ineffective as the Angel seemed to have no intention of letting him get away.
It was a miserable bit of information that Cas had shared- and honestly it came a little too late. Apparently, he had kissed Cas' face. He had been piss drunk in a hotel room and kissed the man on the fucking cheek- that was all. Two days later, not knowing what their initial interaction had been, Dean had gone in full throttle. He had shot himself in the foot metaphorically. He had introduced the gay flavor to their relationship, which wasn't new news, but the timeframe was. He had not been drunk when they kissed the first time, he had been totally sober.
This to Dean meant that he had not been acting out of need to prove anything to his drunk self. It had nothing to do with any kind of machismo or pride, but everything to do with pure desire. Dean had not wanted proof, he had just wanted Cas.
Maybe he was over thinking this.
Maybe it could just be something simpler.
Maybe he was just lonely since so long between ladies. The saying 'any port in a storm' came back to his mind. It really was completely fucked up. There had been a hundred or more dry spells while he had been out on the road with his brother but they had never resulted in any quick and dirty fumblings or make out sessions. And Dean liked to think that the fact that Sam was his brother only marginally factored into that one, the bigger part being that Dean was just not into dudes. Not at all. Not one bit.
"I thought you enjoyed it." Cas was looking confused, and maybe a little angry. "Maybe I am just very poor at reading humans."
"No maybe about it. You are shit at reading people."
Cas stopped encroaching and looked a bit surprised and hurt, as if Dean had just slapped him. "Oh." The one word caught on the night breeze and was lost to Dean, but unlike the Angel, he could read body language. Cas shuffled back to the passenger side of the car, dragging his feet and waiting for Dean to unlock the doors. He stood like a man defeated and it was painful to look at.
Dean rested his hands on the trunk, feeling a lot like Cas looked. He took a second to steady himself before digging his keys from his pocket and rounding back to the driver's side. He didn't bother assessing if he was sober enough to drive. He just got in, popped the lock on Cas' door and started the drive back to Bobby's.
"I am sorry for forcing my feelings onto you." Cas' voice was overly loud in the confines of the car. "It is not something that one friend should do to another."
There was a God, and he was giving Dean an easy out to the panic and fear and stomach butterflies that he felt every time he found himself too close to the Angel. Dean could be straight again. He could blame Cas, which was so much nicer than blaming himself for once. He glanced sideways at the Angel, whose face was mislaid in the shadows of the back roads. No street lights out here in the boonies. No way of seeing what sort of expression accompanied those apologetic words.
"My body confuses me. I have lived for so long without any feelings other than obligation and peace. When I fell to Earth I was caught up in all the sensations that come with this sort of body. It has only been a year here, but I have been introduced to wonderful and terrible things- things like pain, and fear and hunger." He took a slow breath in through his nose, letting it out unevenly. "Wrath, desire… lust… I do not understand what to do with these feelings. They come and go like storms. Suddenly here with me and so strong it's overwhelming. I do not think that I always react as I should."
It wasn't just a way out. It was a full blown pardon. Cas had just taken every bit of blame and Dean was being excused from those strange feelings that he could make no sense of and didn't want to because they scared him.
"Hey." And it was his turn to be too loud. He forced his voice a bit lower. "Don't worry so much. As far as I can tell, you're like a kid suddenly finding yourself in an adult's body."
"I am not a child, Dean."
"When I was little, all I wanted to do was make my dad proud. I followed orders, took care of Sammy and did what I was told." The Angel said nothing to that, so Dean kept going. "When I hit puberty it was all wrath and lust and rebellion that I had never, NEVER felt before. I did a lot of things I wish I hadn't." He risked another glance that gave him nothing. Cas was looking out the window now. "I'm saying don't worry about it. Bodies suck sometimes, never doing what you want- liking people you know you shouldn't. They don't ask permission." His certainly didn't. "Don't be hard on yourself, Cas. It gets easier."
The silence returned and there was nothing but soft breaths and the growl of the engine and the hum of the wheels on the road.
They pulled up to Bobby's and before the car stopped its rumble Cas' hand was on his arm. Dean's heart was in his throat, his eyes fixed on the driveway.
"But we are still friends, right?" He was quiet, hardly more than a whisper, but there was something desperate in those words that was unmistakable.
Dean had a sudden desire to turn and grab the Angel, pulling him in for a kiss that would leave him breathless and erase every ounce of doubt that he had. It was a thought that tightened something low in his gut… maybe even a bit lower than that.
His mouth went dry and all he could hear was his heart hammering in his ears.
Was he really going to do this to himself?
Dean realized that it didn't matter how many monsters he faced in his life, or what sort of horrors were thrown his way. It didn't matter what he lived through or what sort of man other people thought he was. Dean knew the truth.
He was a coward.
And as such, he kept his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel and the keys.
"Yeah, Cas." And at least it wasn't a lie. That had to count for something, right? Dean needed to believe that it counted for something.
"And you're not mad at me?" That broken quality was still there and it was killing Dean just a bit.
He swallowed thickly and forced himself to pull the keys from the ignition. Somewhere down inside he found a shadow of the man he once was, the man who he had been before John died, before the Devil's Gate, and Angels started falling out of the sky. Dean's insides tightened like a fist and when he turned in his seat to look at the other man it was with a cocky, sure smile.
"Come on, Cas. I told you, we're friends. Don't worry about anything else." He pulled himself from the car, his smile only faltering slightly when he was looking away from the sudden hope on the Angel's face. "I'll make you hot cocoa and we can watch the Great Mouse Detective." He vaguely remembered a worn old VHS stashed somewhere in one of the closets. It had been one of Sam's favorites when John would leave them with Bobby, and seeing as Bobby never threw things out, there was a good chance the video was still hanging around somewhere, waiting for them.
"Mouse detective? Is that like the mouse ballerina?" Cas was out of the car, following Dean to the front door, all that unsure tension gone like a bad dream.
Dean hesitated, looking over his shoulder. Mouse ballerina? "No, Cas. He's a detective and he's fucking manly." He unlocked the door and went inside. "He fights evil rats and saves Mouse-England. Basil isn't anything like a ballerina."
It took some doing, but he found the video in a box that also held some rusty Hot Wheels, a jacked up slinky, a handful of playing cards and lots of unnamable broken bits of childhood that made Dean smile. He made two cups of hot chocolate (on the stove like a real man), tossed a quilt over Cas and put on the movie. He had to keep the volume low because somewhere in the house Bobby and possibly Gabriel were sleeping, but that was just fine.
As far as Dean could tell, Cas enjoyed the movie, though he had harsh things to say about the peg legged bat. Apparently the Angel did not care for shifty eyed henchmen. Dean couldn't blame him. He had liked the movie well enough when he was a child, but honestly, for the hour and change that the film went on, he hardly saw more than three consecutive minutes at any time. He only had eyes for the Angel lying gracefully beside him, legs strewn out over the arm of the couch and his mess of dark hair enticingly close to Dean's leg. All he had to do was let his hand drop form the back of the couch and he could toy with those black locks that he knew for a fact were even softer than they looked.
But he had made up his mind back in the car, and he kept his hands where they should be and tried to keep his thoughts there as well.
It was harder than it should have been.
For a man given a second chance, he certainly was ungrateful.
They fell asleep on the couch. It would have lasted too- if it weren't for the horrific sounds that came from the end of every VHS tape ever created. It was the sort of thing nightmares were made of.
Dean snorted awake, tripping over himself to get to the tv and shut it off before they woke the whole house.
"Are we under attack?" Cas asked blearily, blinking from his cocoon of cloth.
"Nah, they were just reminding us to rewind." He rubbed an eye. "At least I think. I never knew why they made that sound actually."
"Did they save the mouse queen?"
Dean grunted an affirmative and collected their mugs.
"Did the little girl mouse find her daddy?"
"Yep. Nothing but happy endings all around."
Cas smiled sleepily, pulling the blanket up so that he was nothing but piercing blue eyes and soft hair. He sighed out a muffled, "good", letting his eyes drift closed again.
Dean put the mugs in the kitchen sink and came back, looking at the littlest bit of the man that he could see, and it made him smile. Not the happy kind of smile. God, he wished it could be a happy smile. But it wasn't, it was the sort of smile that hurt more than just his face.
They were friends now, officially nothing more than friends. Dean could work with that. He would have to.
He sat back down beside his friend and for the second time in a week wondered why he hated himself so much.
"Hey, you still here, Cas?"
"I have not gone anywhere, Dean." His eyes did not open.
"Cas… why did you fall?" That wasn't right. Honestly, Dean couldn't care less why the Angel was here, all that really mattered was that here he was staying. But what he had really wanted to say to Castiel would have been a lot less productive, and Gabriel was probably expecting some sort of answers come morning.
Those dark brows lowered slightly, little wrinkles forming on his forehead. He peeked one eye open just enough to give the hunter a steady expression. At first Dean assumed that he would be getting no answer, but that one eye closed back up and the Angel let out a slow, suffering sort of sigh. "I… felt doubt." He whispered from his safe place, wrapped in the blanket. "I began to question my superiors, to wonder if this really was the plan that our father had for us." He rolled to his side, facing the back of the couch and all by disappearing. "They did not appreciate my distrust towards them and they offered an ultimatum. I could beg forgiveness or leave."
"And so you left?"
"No. I tried to stay." He sighed again, pushing his face into the cushions. "It did not work out as planned. They tore my Grace from me and threw me to Earth." It was the Readers Digest version of what happened, but from the apparent discomfort it was obvious that any more detailed of a telling would not end well for the man.
"That… sucks. They sound like a huge bag of dicks." And he really did mean that one, he just wished he had a more heartfelt way to put it.
"I would not put it quite that way, but I feel that our sentiment is the same." He tucked his knees up to his chest, becoming something similar in shape to a ball.
"But, hey… you're here now. And you've got me- and your brother, though that seems like a mixed blessing at best." He gently laid a hand on Cas' back and felt the man tense slightly under the pressure. "And you're a tough little son of a bitch, Grace or no. Those jackasses up in heaven don't know what they're missing."
"Dean, when you touch me as you are now, it becomes very difficult to not think lustful thoughts about you." Cas mumbled thickly to the back of the couch.
Just like that, Dean had his hands up in the air in a pantomime of surrender. "I wasn't doing anything."
"My wings and the space near them is very..." He trailed off, lost in thought, or lost for words, it was hard to tell.
"Sensitive?" Dean offered, suddenly realizing what he had been doing to the man off and on since they met. He really did love the soft feathery goodness, and apparently Cas did too. No wonder things escalated so quickly.
"Yes." He confirmed in a husky voice.
Dean's breath caught in his throat. "I will, uh, keep that in mind." He made a soft sound that should have been more manly, but fell dismally short. "Sorry." He spent a few seconds looking out the less than clean windows. The faintest hint of light from the false dawn was tinting the sky and coloring everything in pale wisps of grey fog. Dean hated sunrise.
"Dean?"
All he could manage was a grunt.
"Have you ever been in love?"
That resulted in a startled, breathy laugh. If it had been anyone else asking he would have just walked away. But Cas had opened up, and Dean had felt him up, and he felt like he owed the man something tonight. Answering his simple question was really the least he could do. "Yeah- but just once." He glanced away from the barely visible tree line, but Cas was still hiding, so he looked back out. "Her name was Cassy."
"Cassy?" The Angel shifted slightly. "You loved a woman named Cassy?"
"True facts." He assured.
"It would seem that my father has a strange sense of humor."
Dean frowned and looked back at Castiel then started slightly when he saw that he was being watched. They stared at one another for a painfully long time.
The Angel was the first to blink, looking down slightly and letting out a breath Dean didn't know he had been holding. "It has grown early, Dean. It might be best if you get some sleep before the day begins."
"You get some sleep." He stood, feeling suddenly defensive and not knowing why.
"I will." He nodded slightly, tilting his head and watching Dean from a strange angle.
Dean scratched at his the stubble along his jaw and tried to think of something good to say. "Yeah… good night, Cas." He didn't have anything else.