Dean's still nervous, still unsure, but there are three things he's come to a conclusion on during his very sleepless nap time. One: he'd rather have Cas in his life than not, two: a guy being with a guy isn't a bad thing, really, no matter what was insinuated when Dean was young, and three: Dean's seriously going to have to grovel.
His shift (his morning shift, Jo wasn't kidding when she said he was going to have to take it back), starts with Dean keyed up and antsy. When the door finally opens, just as early as ever, Dean's eyes latch onto it like it's the most important thing in the world. When Cas starts to walk in (head bent, the lines of his body tired, eyes red from too little sleep) Dean feels something in him release in a rush as the rest of him tightens in concern.
"Cas…"
Cas' head shoots up, blue eyes wide as they lock onto Dean's. Instead of walking forward, of finishing through the doorway, Cas takes an aborted step back, head shaking just a tad.
"I-I, sorry, I'll… sorry," and then he's turning away, leaving to the street and Dean feels his chest contract harder at Cas' pain as anger at himself rises. He knew what Jo and Sam were saying, but somehow, not seeing it made it easier—watching Cas almost literally shrink into himself, as if he were the one who did a terrible-bad-thing, hurts. Dean's anger at himself expands in that moment, but more than that, a fear rises that tells Dean if he doesn't stop Cas now, he'll never see him again.
Dean jumps the counter and is throwing open the door before he's thought through what to do. Cas is walking quickly away, but he's still just walking. Dean overtakes him in mere moments, arms sliding around Cas' waist, pulling him back against Dean's chest. Now here, with Cas in his arms in the middle of the sidewalk, Dean can't come up with a reason why this is wrong. He's still nervous, with his arms around another man in public, but the internalized feeling of wrongness is brushed aside by the very real relief of having this back.
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." Dean whispers into Cas' neck, arms pulling tighter, even as Cas tenses (has been tense since Dean first touched him).
"Dean," Cas' hands come to Dean's arms, "Dean, let go."
Dean doesn't want to, but he does, grip easing up until it goes slack. Dean pulls back, his eyes imploring as Cas finally turns, trying to catch those blue eyes, wanting Cas to see his sincerity.
Cas does not meet them, "It's fine. It was my fault. I'm sorry." Dean's shoulder's tense, Cas clears his throat, looking anywhere but Dean, "you should get back to the shop."
Dean shakes his head. No, this is not supposed to be how it goes, he has to be able to fix this, "Cas" Dean moves his head so he can catch Cas' gaze, and drags it back around, "Cas, I screwed up. It's my fault. I… I was more concerned with how I was supposed to act than what actually made me happy and I shut you out and hurt you and that's not cool. But, Cas, please, please tell me I haven't messed up too bad, that I can fix this."
Cas' eyes stay steady on Dean before he breaks the gaze, one hand fiddling with his coat cuff. Dean holds his breath and waits.
"I…I don't know," Cas looks back up at Dean through his lashes and Dean's throat tightens, "I… that's the first time I'd ever… done something like that." Cas eyes skirt away again, embarrassed, "and…" Cas' hand still works at his cuff with a single-mindedness Dean doubts Cas notices, but he does notice the people, more now, walking around them, one not so subtle older woman attempting to listen in.
"Come 'ere" Dean grabs Cas' hand, pulls him back to the shop with no resistance and shuts the door behind them, flipping the open sign around so it faces them, 'closed' being shown to the world. Cas looks out of place now, more nervous, as if he's wondering if he should just make for the door again.
Dean's had Cas' coffee made since he entered this morning (too jittery to just wait), and has been keeping it warm in a travel cup he'd brought from home. He gets it now, bringing it to Cas and putting it in his hands with a soft 'here'.
Cas takes a seat near the counter, and Dean knows it probably means nothing, but he feels calmer either way.
"I'm sorry that I…" Cas makes a vague motion between their faces, cup held close in the other as Dean sits across from him.
"No, Cas, seriously I was a dick about it. If I didn't like it I could've just said something, not run off and hid behind Jo."
Cas' pale cheeks tinge pink as he hear what wasn't said, "you liked it?" he whispers, trying to hide as much of his face behind the travel cup as possible when he takes a sip.
Dean feels his own cheeks color as he nods, what has to be a goofy smile on his face.
"Oh" Cas all but preens, and Dean will berate himself more, later, about how dumb he'd been, almost letting this go, but for now he can smile fondly.
He can't let it end here though; he has to make it clear, "Cas, I'm really sorry—really. I didn't even know why I was avoiding you, just that I thought I had to. And I know it sounds like crap, but I'm kinda slow on the uptake sometimes and it takes my brother yelling at me for me to see just how shitty I went and made my life."
Cas nods slowly, as if he's still taking in what's being said, "I…accept your apology," he says, formal as ever, "but promise not to do that in the future. If I've messed up, just tell me."
Dean wants to interject, to reiterate that it wasn't Cas who'd messed up but Dean, but the point still stands—communicate. And wow, that sounds so relationship-y that Dean thinks he just went and skeeved himself out, but he's a grown ass man, so it's time he stop trying to act like a teenager.
They sit for a moment in comfortable silence, Cas sipping on his coffee contentedly, seeming to relax for the first time in what Dean can only guess has been a few tough days at the office at least, and Dean tries to not stare at him. He's thinking of giving Cas his sandwich or something to add a few pounds, because although Cas looks formless under his bulky clothes, with how skinny his wrists are and how thin he felt when Dean had dragged Cas against himself, Cas could use it.
"Cas?" Dean breaks the silence as a question occurs.
"Mh?"
"What d'ya mean, 'first time' doing that sort of thing?" Dean watches as Cas goes pink to his ears, "like, making a move…?"
Cas puts the mug on the table fully, but doesn't remove his hands from it, "I've never," Cas clears his throat, "never…" he clears it again, bringing one hand around to rub at the back of his neck.
Dean's eyes go wide. It can't be what he's thinking.
"You've never kissed someone before?"
By the way Cas goes three shades darker, Dean guesses he's right. And wow if that doesn't make inappropriate thoughts flow into Dean's mind even as he knows now is certainly not the time—he should still be groveling really.
"But, why?" Dean can't help blurting out. Cas is not bad looking. He's the opposite. The exact opposite. He is very good looking and he's a really good person—a hard (too hard) worker and a good listener and really an all-around awesome guy and Dean can't imagine how he's never dated someone before, let alone never been kissed.
Cas gives his version of a shrug, an aborted half motion with one shoulder, "I'm blunt. Abrasive. Unapproachable. I don't take initiative. I'm shy and uninteresting." Not all the words sound like Cas' but he says them all as if he believes them and Dean wants nothing more than to show Cas how wrong he is. Or beat up whoever told him this bullshit.
"Hey now, not true," Dean reaches across the table, hand hovering over Cas' and when Cas makes no move to pull it away, Dean lets it rest on top of his, "you're really interesting, you're honest and speak your mind. You're quiet, sure, but you talk to strangers just fine; you did when we met. And you're really nice, Cas, you care. It's their loss, Cas. Can't say I'm too sad about it." And Dean's sappy. It's official. Carve it in stone and leave it in the middle of the city, shout it from the rooftops.
Dean clears his throat, "so, um, kissing."
Cas meets Dean's eyes, "I won't do it again, certainly not without asking," he's quick to supply. And that's not where Dean's going with that but it makes it apparent that Dean's going to have to work at making Cas' moment of initiative okay in Cas' own eyes, but for now, he'll let it go.
"Yeah, sure," Dean waits a beat, "Hey Cas?
"Yeah?"
"Can I kiss you?"
Cas' smile is this mix of tentative and mischievous. Dean loves it. "Well, I don't know…"
Dean leans forward with a smile of his own, resting his weight on his elbows on the table, "Please?"
Cas makes a show of thinking, and Dean's stuck again by the thought that he almost lost this, all because of some stupid idea of who he's supposed to be that he'd never questioned before, just accepted thoughtlessly.
"I guess," Cas sighs out, as if undertaking some less-than-pleasant task.
"Don't put yourself out," Dean says, but the last words are against Cas' lips because he's already leaned forward the extra few inches. It's reminiscent of their first kiss, soft and light. Dean can feel Cas' breathe against his mouth, feel his eyelids flutter shut in the sweetest of ways. And then Dean's pressing harder, letting his tongue slip between his lips to wet Cas' dry ones, licking at the seam, feeling Cas' swift inhale as he lets them part.
Dean pulls back, just enough to see Cas' shiny wet lips, slightly parted and oh so inviting, dark lashes fanning out across his skin. Dean lets his breath ghost over Cas' mouth, watching him full-body shiver.
Dean leans in again, slotting their lips so Cas' bottom lip falls between his own. He draws the plump lip into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth, giving it one sharp nip that makes Cas whimper deliciously before pulling back. Cas looks even better now, lower lip quickly filling in with color, dark red, offset by flushed cheeks and half-lidded, almost drunk, eyes lined with a bright rim of blue. Best of all, those blown eyes are looking at Dean's mouth as if the only thing Cas wants is to kiss him again.
Cas opens that sweet mouth, "I have to go to work," his words are a bucket of cold water, the pleasant warm feeling flushed out with ice.
"No, no, no, stay," Dean knows it's pathetic, but there's nothing he wants more. And finally allowing himself to want what he wants—finally being allowed to have what he wants—is so new and wonderful and he doesn't want to let life come between that.
"I have work, you have work," Cas gestures to the counter, but he's still too soft around the edges for it to be a reprimand, "we can…meet later?" Cas hedges, voice too questioning for the moment they've just shared, but Dean gets it, Cas is still wary, he was hurt too bad to go straight back to the comfortable level they were at before. Dean'll fix that, he swears it.
"Yeah, okay, seven?" Dean asks, "I'll come to your house?"
Cas smiles, "I'll cook dinner."
Dean doesn't wanna say it, he really doesn't, but something must come across his face because Cas laughs, a short bark, and says, "And pie."
Dean's not responsible for the dorky smile on his face.