A/N: Chapter in which: There is a Magic 8 Ball. Cas pours his heart out. Bobby feels awkward. Sam finally 'gets' it. Dean finally has feelings. Maybe.
And if the footnotes are detracting from the experience, tell me!
Dean's mind was a tangled mess of conflicting hopes and fears as he walked down the porch steps. He absently headed around the corner of the barn that Bobby used as a workshop. He wasn't sure what he was more afraid of. He could try to get his voice back, but what if… And he was just starting with Cas. He didn't want it to end so soon. But if he didn't try, he wasn't sure if he could live life as some kind of invalid, with this disability that made hunting more dangerous and difficult than it already was. He wasn't sure he could live like that and not start to resent it. Hell, he resented it already. He thumped his forehead quietly against the peeling clapboard side of the barn and closed his eyes. But if it worked, and he survived …would he and Cas still be the same? Or would Dean start ruining everything with his big mouth again? Who was he kidding? It was a huge possibility. Sometimes it was like his mouth was controlled by someone who really didn't like him.
"Dean."
Dean straightened up and turned to find Cas right there, just like old times. The tops of Cas' brows were raised in concern. It made him look like a puppy expecting a reprimand. Dean slid down and sat with his back against the barn wall. He'd known it was too good to last and he'd been right. It was going to end soon, one way or another. If it went bad, at least he'd known Cas felt…something. And he felt…something.
Cas sat right beside Dean, in the dewy weeds, beneath the shadowed wall. He had things he wanted to say to Dean regardless of what decision Dean made.
"I want to tell you something, Dean." He placed his hand on Dean's thigh and watched as his own fingers brushed the fabric and refused to sit still. Human bodies were traitorous things. When he looked up, Dean was watching his face, searching his eyes, like the night in the bar that seemed so long ago now. He realised Dean was really listening and had been that night in the bar. Dean draped his arm around Cas, loose-limbed and warm, and hugged him closer.
"Dean…" He wasn't sure if he could say it, or if Dean wanted to hear it, but Dean might decide to risk his own life to get his voice back and he might lose that gamble. Cas couldn't keep silent. He watched his own hand fidgeting on Dean's jean-clad leg because he wasn't sure he wanted to see Dean's expression when he said this.
"Dean, I've always loved you. In one form or another. From the moment you had the audacity to look me in the eye while you stabbed me through the heart."* He took the risk of sneaking a glance at Dean from under his lashes. Dean had blinked for a split-second in surprise. He put his hand over Cas' and hugged him tighter. Cas took a small breath and rushed on, "And, if you so choose, I will return the favour." Dean rolled his eyes, and smiled, leaning his forehead against Cas'. He cupped Cas' face, tilting it down so he could kiss him on the forehead. He stroked Cas' cheeks with his thumbs and pulled him close for a more thorough kiss. Cas' fine fingers curled around his wrists, firm but tender.
"Dean, I don't want you to die. I don't want to be stranded here without you. But I know you will be frustrated, miserable and full of self-loathing, …more so than usual, if you don't try." Cas felt a huge strain in letting Dean make the decision, but he tried to keep his voice lightly teasing. There was a huge, condensed ache between his heart and his throat. He really wanted Dean to take the safe option, but even if Dean didn't choose to risk his life trying to get his voice back, that was no guarantee of his safety in the future. As Dean would say 'Shit happened'. Either Cas believed in free will or he didn't. He couldn't just preach free choice when it suited him. So he had to let Dean choose. And it hurt. If Dean chose the dangerous option, Cas figured he might as well be the one stabbing Dean. If it all went wrong, well, Cas could hardly imagine feeling worse, whether he'd done the stabbing or not. He would do whatever Dean needed him to do. He understood now why humans cried when there was no physical injury.
-oOo-
Sam sat at Bobby's desk while Bobby insisted the two angels and the demon leave his home. Bobby was not having them loitering, drinking his good whiskey and driving him to distraction, while Dean took his time. They were here with his permission, and he was damned well taking it back. Did he look like a damned hostess?
Sam rested his chin in his hand and idly shook the Magic 8 Ball that Bobby used as a paper weight. He tuned out the arguing in the next room. This could be the biggest thing to happen to them since they averted the apocalypse. What the hell were their lives, that he could downgrade 'The Apocalypse' to 'the apocalypse', without uppercase, like it happened once a week? So yeah, this could be huge, and for once, Dean was taking his time. That was a first. It was like that creepy, tense, calm period just before a tornado. And what was with Cas? Every time he tried to haul Cas away from Dean's emotional vortex, he kept slipping Sam's grip and diving straight into the yawning well, head first. He'd tried to warn Dean that Cas was getting … attached. But then Dean had gone to all this trouble to acclimatize Cas, like he hadn't done since Sam was a kid, a hunter in training.
Sam had stumbled across Cas and Dean's cosy sleeping arrangements before they woke, but tried not to make too much of it, because that was Dean all over. He'd get all tactile and handsy, and then wonder why people got upset when he disappeared with no forwarding address. Their lives were never simple, but maybe it was exactly what it looked like? Sam shook the Magic 8 Ball: 'Yes.'
It was true. He'd known it deep down without asking a stupid toy. Dean had fallen for Cas, like a slinky down a stairwell.
And holy crap, Cas had made it pretty obvious from the beginning that he was Dean's. In fact, in hindsight, it was mind-boggling to Sam that Dean hadn't reacted sooner. Cas couldn't have been more obvious. But of course, now that Dean had finally realised he had feelings, he might die. Because heaven forbid that Dean should catch a break. Screw it all to hell! Sam hurled the Magic 8 Ball against the fire place. **
-oOo-
Dean and Cas were still huddled together against the barn when Dean's phone beeped. He'd already made his decision really. He was just trying to get used to the feeling of possibly losing what he'd just gained. The possibility that Cas would be left hurting if this went wrong. But Sam would be there and Dean hoped they would help each other get through it … if it went wrong. He looked at his phone. The text was from Sam: "Voice or no voice, you're still an idiot." With it was a picture of a half covered Cas and Dean, entwined on the floor of Bobby's living room. Dean was sprawled, his relaxed, sleeping face turned towards Cas; his arm was loosely slung around Cas, cradling his head. Cas' face was tucked against Dean's neck, barely visible; the rest of him wrapped tightly around Dean. It was the thing that nearly changed Dean's mind. "Sam, you sneaky bitch," he thought, as he loudly swallowed a lump of pain and willed his rapidly blinking eyes to man the hell up.
Cas pulled Dean's hand closer so he could see what Dean was looking at on the phone. He stared at the phone for several long seconds, before raising brimming, blue eyes to Dean.
"This will be very difficult for me, Dean. But I will do it. For you."
Damn it. Why'd he have to be so goddamned earnest? Dean had made his decision and here were Cas and Sam, making him second guess himself. Normally he had no problem gambling everything against the odds. But now he had something to lose that he didn't want to live without. Was it worth it?
Yes, he had to. There were too many things unsaid, that he really needed to say. Things he wanted to say to Cas. And to Sam, to Bobby, to the world in general. He wrote his text to Cas.
"I have to do it."
Cas crawled into his lap and wrapped his limbs snugly around Dean again, in his artless way. "If this fails, you won't be warm and alive like this," he murmured hoarsely. "I will miss your flawed arguments. That smirk you have, when you think you're amusing. The way you pet the car when you think no one is looking." Cas gave a choked laugh. "Even your inharmonious singing." Dean settled his arms firmly around Cas and rubbed his back soothingly. He couldn't make this better.
-oOo-
"Sam?" Bobby's voice from the kitchen doorway sounded incredibly uncomfortable. It reminded Sam of the time Dean had given him the Birds and Bees talk. "Are your brother and the angel … ? You know."
Sam sighed with his back still to Bobby. "I don't know." He continued to spread mayonnaise on the turkey sandwich he was making . "I know they're … close. I think Dean loves him maybe. But I don't have any idea if Dean knows that." Sam turned to face Bobby, mayonnaise-covered knife still in his hand, and frowned thoughtfully.
"He's good for Dean, you know? I've seen them spend hours together working on the car without saying a word, perfectly content. He makes Dean laugh." Sam sounded awed. "I haven't seen Dean drink since that first night, have you?"
Bobby scratched his bearded cheek. "No… can't say I have. Huh."
*Season 4, episode 1: Lazarus Rising.
**No Magic 8 Balls were harmed in the making of this chapter.