Castiel couldn't help falling in love with the Winchsters' pretty little house. First off, it always smelled of something delicious baking in the oven. The furniture was minimal but made up for in cute, tasteful decorations practically littering the place, from never-used china to delicate house plants to lovely candles.

Dean had opened the door for him with a shy blush, even going so far as to mutter, "Sorry about the mess," as Cas entered. Cas just smiled and turned to Mary.

"You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Winchester."

Mary beamed at him. "Thank you, darling. Dean, why don't you get him set up in your room?"

His blush reddening, Dean grabbed the bag they'd picked up from Cas' apartment out of the boy's grasp, taking his hand with his free one. "Come on, honey."

He led Cas through a hallway to a closed door to their left, which he also opened for him. Dean hung back to let Cas go in first, flipping on the light switch to reveal his small, mostly bare room. It mainly consisted of his lumpy twin bed, boring brown nightstand, and hamper over-spilling with clothes in desperate need of folding and putting away in his little chest-of-drawers.

"Uh-sorry for the mess," Dean repeated. He couldn't help it-compared to Cas' neat, comfy room, this was just pathetic.

But Castiel was looking around with a soft smile, then a grin at the messy pile of books next to the little bed. "Shut up. I love it." He took a seat on the bed, chuckling good-naturedly when the old mattress creaked underneath his weight.

Dean winced at the sound, reluctantly sinking into the bed next to Cas, who promptly leaned on his shoulder and greedily claimed both of his hands.

Dean couldn't hold back a soft laugh. "I'm glad you're here," he confessed. "You didn't have to come."

"Of course I did, you kidnapped me," Cas pointed out brightly.

"Oh, right," Dean laughed, leaning in to plant a sloppy kiss on the boy's smooth cheek.

Cas tried to scramble out of reach and collapsed into the mattress as a result, laughing and squealing as Dean followed. With that, they became a tangled knot of lax limbs and messy kisses. Soon, they became needy, breathless kisses and Cas found himself spreading his legs wide so Dean's body could slot in between them.

Cas failed to suppress a soft giggle, which had Dean somehow kissing him even more fervently. They only broke away at Cas' halfhearted, breathless protest, "B-babe, your mother..."

Reluctantly, Dean rolled off of him and onto his side, though he let his hand linger on the boy's hip. "I usually make dinner," he said quietly, his half-lidded eyes never wavering from the sliver of gold skin that Cas' rucked-up shirt had revealed. "My mom does way better desserts, though. She usually goes to bed right after eating, and I don't stay up very late either since my shift at the bookstore starts so early." He gave an apologetic smile. "This won't really be the most exciting slumber party in the world."

Castiel laughed and kissed his cheek. "I don't care about exciting, dumbass. You know what I find exciting? Birds and flowers and the occasional really good blowjob. I care about being here, with you."

"You can't be real," accused Dean. "You belong in some warped rom-com."

Cas giggled again, grabbing a pillow from behind the other man's head and lightly swatting at his stomach. With that began all-out war, which inevitably resulted in Cas pinned underneath Dean's weight, the pillow pressing down on his face as Dean shook with laughter. And Cas couldn't remember the last time he felt such happiness swelling in his chest, not since everything had happened. Not since before losing Daphne, then Belle, then his parents. But now that he felt it, pure joy bursting forth from his body in huffs of laughter once more, it seemed to him that he was learning to breathe again.

Even if he wasn't technically breathing terribly well at the moment.

"Un-uncle!" he gasped, and Dean hastily got off him again, showering his flushed face with tiny, cautious kisses.

"Shit, I'm sorry, was I too rough? Are you okay? Fuck, why did I think that was a good idea, you're practically a little twink-"

"Dean. I think I've already proven that I'm a bit stronger than I look," Cas reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

Dean blushed but Cas just smiled up at him, raising a hand to lightly cup his stubble-dusted cheek. "You have no idea of what you've given me."

Dean leaned into the touch, his blush deepening. "Do...do you want to help me with dinner?" But in his head he was screaming, What could I possibly have to offer to something as beautiful as you?

But Cas saw it in his reddening skin, the way he couldn't meet his eyes all of a sudden. "Don't do that, Dean," he commanded gently. "Don't you think like that anymore."

Dean attempted a bemused smirk. "I don't know what you mean."

Castiel sighed and rolled onto Dean, gently pressing him into the old, protesting mattress. He gave Dean's parted, confused lips a tender kiss, but when he broke away his eyes were blazing. "You know what I mean. And I need to be honest with you, if you refuse to try and see what I see in you, there's just no way you can give me what I'm looking for." He quickly deflated a bit, slumping limply onto Dean's broad chest.

Meanwhile, Dean was looking blankly up at the ceiling as he let Cas' words sink in, slow and potent as rolling molasses. "I...I get it, Cas. I do. I don't...think badly of myself, that's not my problem."

Castiel sat up, looking down at him with a subdued, softer gaze. "What's the problem, then?"

"It's just...when Sam and I were kids, our mom really had her hands full, you know? My dad was a damn deadbeat, no matter how much no one wanted to admit it. So Mom and I raised the kid. There's no other way of putting it, really. And somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that he needed me and that he should be my first priority."

Cas frowned, placing a gentle hand on Dean's back without thinking about it as he continued; "Sam never needed me though, not really. He's out at friggin' Stanford, building a life for himself like...I should be doing, too. Before Dad died, I was trying. I left Lawrence and found work as a mechanic, got myself a little apartment. It's not much, but it was a start, and now..."

When Dean's voice trailed off, Cas leaned in to slowly kiss him, then told him firmly, "It won't me this way forever, Dean. You'll get your life back soon."

"But...will you still want me?"

The honest fear and reluctance in his voice made Cas unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. "Dean, why wouldn't I?"

"We...we won't see each other as much, I'll be working full-time again, not to mention living an hour away..."

Castiel silenced him with a swift kiss. "Shh, baby. It'll be just fine."

Dean made a soft sound in back of his throat and started to reach for a kiss when his mother knocked lightly at the door. "Dean, I've finished cleaning the kitchen."

Smiling, Dean started to rise from the bed, holding a hand out for Cas. "That's her super subtle code for 'come make dinner.'"

Castiel spent the next hour in the kitchen with Dean, making pasta with chicken and homemade garlic rolls. Or, rather, he hovered about and leaned against the countertop watching Dean cook, unable to keep himself from swooping. It was so damn sweet and domestic, being able to see him like this, quietly humming himself as he worked. As they ate in the small but cozy dining room, Mary continued her epic saga of Dean's embarrassing adventures from his childhood, much to his mortification. Despite how pleasant the conversation seemed to Cas, she still took her leave as soon as she'd finished eating, just as Dean had predicted.

As Dean and Cas were cleaning the dishes, Cas couldn't help but notice him frowning and worrying at his soft lip, and swooped in to give the back of his neck a quick kiss. "Wanna go to bed? We can finish up in the morning," he murmured into Dean's smooth skin. The other man nodded and turned his head a little so he could nuzzle into Cas' dark hair.

"I'd like that."