As Cas tidied up the desk at the end of the day, Bobby came into the office.

"Here, stick that up before you go," he said, holding out a hand to him.

Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion as he took what his boss was holding out to him. Then he realised what it was. Unable to stop the smile that spread across his face, he nodded. "Of course."

Moving towards the office window, he carefully peeled the layer from the back of the sticker. As he applied the vibrant rainbow to the new glass, he smoothed it out with his fingers until there were no bubbles trapped between it and the glass. Even though Bobby hadn't known about his sexuality when he'd displayed the first sticker in the window, it meant a lot to Cas that he continued to show his support - even in such a simple gesture.

Returning to the desk, he filed away the few last pieces of paperwork for the day as he waited for the computer to shut down. Once the last update had installed and the screen went black, he switched the power off at the wall and retrieved his coat. Dean wasn't yet out of the garage, so Cas hurried around the back of the building before Dean could tell him that 'he didn't need to look at a car he surely knew by heart by now'.

He knew that Dean didn't think much of it, but he liked it. Besides, Dean couldn't be described as the best judge of things, considering he thought so little of himself.

"You know you're going to have to say goodbye to it at some point?" Dean asked, startling him.

Castiel sighed. "Yes. But at least I'm dating a mechanic who can tell me what kind of car I'm looking for, should I ever get one of my own."

"You don't want something... a little nicer?" Dean asked desperately. The thought of his baby parked next to something like that made him shudder.

Cas pouted playfully. "How would you like it if I insulted your car?"

"It would be all lies," Dean grinned.

"So it's not a 'gas guzzler', then?" he asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

For a second Dean looked torn between being insulted and impressed. Then realisation struck him. "Benny's been talking shit about her again, hasn't he?"

Castiel shrugged innocently.

"Listen, sometimes you have to compromise on mileage to drive a thing of beauty - and nothing is more beautiful than her."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of competing with your car for your affections," Cas teased, nudging him lightly. Amusement laced his tone as he asked, "How did Lisa take it - or didn't you share that small detail with her?"

When Dean spoke again, he sounded distant and almost wistful. "I can't believe he's going to be here, soon."

Dean didn't have to call Ben by his name for Cas to know who he was talking about. He reached out to touch Dean's arm lightly, just enough to coax him out of his thoughts. "Come on," he said, leading the way back to the front yard again. "Let's go home."

. * * * .

It was a quiet drive home; neither speaking as music played in the background. Though Cas tuned out the sounds as he dwelled on his concerns over Ben's upcoming visit.

He wanted all to go well, for Dean and for Ben. But he'd be lying if he wasn't also a little afraid. Afraid that it would go badly, afraid that Dean's response to such an outcome would be be detrimental to the progress he'd made over the past few months.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," he said, breaking the silence as they entered their apartment building. "Bringing up Lisa," he clarified when Dean shot him a confused look.

"You didn't," Dean assured him. "What made you think I'd get upset over that?"

"I don't know how much of an issue it still is for you; her leaving you."

"It's not an issue," Dean said, and it was mostly true. "I wasn't at my best, then, and she did what was best for her and Ben. I can't blame her for that."

"But you miss her."

"Of course I miss her, Cas. I spent a year living with her. And Ben, he's..."

"Going to be here soon," Cas said when Dean trailed off regretfully.

A smile eased the crease in Dean's forehead. "Yeah."

A stray thought flew through Castiel's mind - if Lisa would take Dean back, would he go? He refused to consider the answer, however. Convincing himself it wouldn't do either of them any good to focus on what-ifs, he ignored the small flame of fear flickering in his gut that worried the answer to his unspoken question might be 'yes'.

While Dean headed to the bathroom to wash the sweat and grease off his body, Cas sought out Chuck's affections. "You'd better not get too used to this place," he advised sadly.

The kitten mewled unhappily at him.

"I know," he agreed, imagining that Chuck was trying to tell him that he didn't want to leave. "But it'll be better for you to live somewhere that will offer you more freedom."

Trying not to dwell on things, Cas dangled a fluffy mouse toy in front of him. He laughed as he watched Chuck pouncing and clawing at the stuffed toy, sometimes missing it as Cas jerked it out of his reach at the last second.

"Do you want to just get a takeout tonight?" Dean asked, shaking a hand through his wet hair as he came into the kitchen.

"I don't mind cooking," Cas told him.

"I just felt like something simple."

"Okay. What did you have in mind?"

"Do you want to just get one of those Chinese meals for two and share it?"

"As opposed to eating an entire meal for two yourself?" Cas queried.

"No, I meant sharing the meals," Dean explained, adjusting the hem of his shirt. "Half and half, you know?"

"That would be fine," he said.

To Chuck's irritation, Cas placed the toy out of reach as he went to retrieve the newspaper.

Dean pulled the menus out of a drawer. "What do you fancy? Beef curry and sweet and sour chicken? Or Kung Po prawns and vegetable chow mein?" Dean asked, reading out the options.

"I didn't like the Kung Po when I tried it."

"Okay, curry and sweet and sour it is. Do we just want to stick with beef and chicken? Because I'm sure we can switch the meats if we wanted."

"Stick," Cas replied. "Unless you want pork?"

"No, it's fine. Comes with chicken and sweetcorn soups, spare ribs, prawn crackers, and fried rice."

"That's more than enough. We could even keep a small amount for lunch tomorrow."

"Ooh, that sounds like a plan!" Dean grinned. "Okay. I'll phone this in. When do we want to eat?"

"Six?"

"Okay. That was easy."

. * * * .

It was easy, and at five past six they were sitting down to eat while Chuck glared at them from his box.

Feeling sorry for him, Dean chucked him a piece of chicken halfway through their dinner.

"Dean! That's got sauce all over it!"

Dean shrugged. "So? It's a new flavour for him."

"What if there's something in it he shouldn't eat?"

Dean looked a little guilty. "It was just a small piece. I'm sure he'll be fine," he said, trying to excuse his careless actions.

Cas huffed, not looking mollified at all.

"Oh, come on - like you've never eaten anything that's bad for you!"

"There's a difference between eating too much chocolate and eating a poisonous wild mushroom!"

Dean looked over at Chuck, who was licking his paws and looking very pleased with himself. "Don't die," he commanded the cat.

"Because that's going to stop him from dying if cats aren't allowed to have garlic, or soy sauce, or anything else that might be in this!"

"Jeez, Cas, I'm sorry! What more do you want me to say?!"

"I don't need you to say anything - just acknowledge that your actions were irresponsible and think before you feed him human food. You wouldn't feed chocolate to a dog, would you?"

"Well, no, but chocolate's..." He trailed off as he realised he was about to say 'bad for dogs', which was exactly the point Cas was trying to make. "Yeah, okay. I'm a dumbass," he admitted bitterly. "Happy now?"

Cas sighed. "You're not a dumbass, except when you claim to be one," he said, leaning over and kissing Dean's cheek. "How's your dinner?"

"Good. How's yours?"

Cas smiled. "Good," he echoed.

Dean laughed, and the two of them resumed eating. When Chuck circled his feet, rubbing himself endearingly against his legs, Dean refused to give in to his silent pleas for more.

. * * * .

After they'd eaten, Cas stored their leftovers in the fridge while Dean washed up. He refused Castiel's offer of assistance, telling him to go relax while he took care of the dishes - not that there was a lot of them.

It was a lot less fun without someone to talk to, washing and drying as a team. As a partnership. Partners. It felt like they fought a lot more, now that they were together.

He scrubbed roughly at a particularly stubborn piece of sauce that had dried onto one of the plates.

This was the way it had been with Lisa. Things had been fine, at first, then they'd started to argue. Over the little things, because she hadn't wanted to address the bigger things. His drinking. Was that the way he and Cas were going to be? Arguing over the little things, because Cas didn't want to address the bigger ones - like his inability to commit fully to Cas, or 'internal conflict' as Pamela had put it? The realisation should be a sign - a sign to work harder to make everything right before he inevitably fucked it all up. Jeez, that was why he was washing up alone, wasn't it? A way of apologising to Cas for maybe nearly killing the damn stray he'd brought home one day.

The cat was winding around his ankles again. He gave it a gentle nudge with his foot to encourage it to move, and it did - to his other leg. Chuck Norris was going to trip him up and he was going to break his leg. Again. He imagined trying to tell the ER nurse what had happened and smirked. She wouldn't need to know that Chuck Norris was a cat...

"Meow!"

"Look, are you trying to get stepped on?!" Dean asked, nudging it more firmly.

Chuck let out an irritated mewl and scampered across the room.

"I'm already in the dog house for feeding you - how many dishes am I going to need to wash if I stand on you?"

He could almost swear he heard a quiet chuckle from the other room, but decided he'd imagined it.

"Don't look at me like that," Dean grumbled as he grabbed the dish towel.

Chuck Norris was staring at him from across the room with narrowed eyes, his ginger tail twitching as if in irritation. He might only be a cat, but sometimes it was scary how very human he seemed.

Dean dried the dishes and put them away, periodically checking to make sure Chuck wasn't attempting to trip him up again.

"We've got to get you a bell," he decided aloud.

He had no idea how long it was going to be before they found someone to take Chuck in, but for as long as they were taking care of him they had to take responsibility for his welfare - and being stepped on wasn't good for him. But he didn't want Cas getting any ideas about keeping the cat - Dean refused to spend the next however-many years popping antihistamines like they were candy.

He put the last of the dishes away in the cupboards and made his way to the living room, making sure to shut Chuck Norris in the kitchen when he left. Dropping down onto the sofa beside Castiel, who had his nose buried in the newspaper, he dropped his head back and sighed.

"You know you didn't have to wash up alone to say sorry, don't you?" Cas asked, not lifting his eyes from the paper.

"That was you giggling I heard!"

"He likes you," Cas told him fondly, then circled something.

"Likes my feet, you mean. What's so funny?" he asked as Cas unexpectedly burst out laughing.

"Do you remember that time you came home drunk and offered to count my toes?"

"I didn't!" Dean exclaimed in denial and disbelief.

"You did."

"When was that?" he demanded, convinced that Castiel was pulling his leg.

"Sometime before Christmas," Cas told him. "We'd been at the Roadhouse, and this girl had given you her number." Then he frowned and crossed something out in the paper.

Dean didn't miss the tightness with which Cas said that last part. "I don't get it," he said, still trying to figure out what that had to do with counting toes.

"Hmm? Oh," Cas said when he realised he hadn't finished explaining. "She apparently had six toes on one foot."

"Dude, that's freaky."

"That didn't seem to be your opinion at the time. You wanted to count my toes, and your own, to make sure we both had ten."

"Well, of course I have ten toes!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Cas smiled. "As do I, just so you are aware. But you were rather shocked when you realised you had never counted your own toes before."

"I still don't remember that."

"I'd forgotten about it until just now. It's funny the way random things just pop into your brain out of the blue."

"Yeah," Dean said absently, trying to glance at what Cas was finding so interesting in the paper.

"I think it was shortly after that night I dragged Balthazar out and tried to meet someone."

"Now that I remember!" Realisation dawned on Dean. "Did you... Was that because of the girl with the toes?"

"I'll admit that, yes, I was jealous." Another scratch of pen on paper as something else was circled. "I'm not proud of it. But I realised that dwelling on my unrequited feelings for you wasn't healthy, so decided to try to get you 'out of my system', so to speak."

"It didn't work?"

Castiel's cheeks turned slightly pink. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he confessed. "It was the first time I admitted, out loud to someone, that I loved you."

"You told him you were in love with someone else?"

"No. I told Balthazar."

Dean clenched his jaw at the revelation that Cas could more easily open up about his love to Balthazar rather than Dean, before realising that it wasn't like Cas could have approached him about his feelings. He'd struggled to trust in Dean's acceptance at first, and to admit he harboured more than a crush for the man who, by chance, had come to his rescue when he was at his lowest would have surely been intimidating.

As he came to this conclusion, he tried not to feel too smug knowing that Cas had told Balthazar he loved Dean. Even though Dean was still struggling to accept the change in their friendship - relationship - he could still be glad that the man he was jealous of knew he didn't have a chance.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the rustling of the newspaper and the scratch of Castiel's pen on the pages.

"You're not looking for another place to live, are you?" Dean asked, only half-joking, when he realised that was what it looked like Cas was doing.

"Now why would I do that?" Castiel asked him, scoring something else out.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Job hunting."

"You have a job."

"I have a part time job. And if I do go back to university, then I probably won't be able to work there anymore - I'll have classes during the day."

Another job advert was struck off.

"Unfortunately, I am very under-qualified for most of these."

"We managed before you got a job, you know - we could manage again if you wanted to focus on your studies."

Cas looked at him. "That's a nice thought, but you and I both know it's not true. Not when we're both in therapy and you have a car to run."

Dean opened his mouth but then closed it again, swallowing a joke about ditching his therapy sessions. "I could stop drinking again," he suggested instead.

Cas leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "You're already drinking less," he reminded him. "And so long as you're not using alcohol as a crutch to cope with your issues, I don't see why you can't continue to drink occasionally." He sighed, and cast the paper aside. "I only see a handful of jobs that I might stand half a chance at. One's only a Saturday morning."

"Even a few extra hours' pay could help out around here."

Castiel shot him an amused glance. "I thought we'd be fine without my income?"

Dean shrugged. "I lied."

"I know you did." He slipped his hand into Dean's and said, "I'm so grateful that I have your support."

"Of course you do." He gave Castiel's hand a light squeeze. "I might not be good at the whole... relationship thing, but I don't want to hold you back. Whatever you want to do, know that I've got your back."

Castiel smiled at him, then shifted in his seat so he could kiss Dean fully.

Cas was still a clumsy kisser, but at the same time there was something almost sweet about the way he didn't care that he wasn't that great. And the raw passion behind his lips, in those rare moments he didn't withhold his emotions for Dean's sake, held an intensity that even the most skilled kisser would find hard to match.

Dean's hands found Castiel's hips, neither pulling him closer nor pushing him away - simply holding him there. Trying to ignore the twist in his gut as he kissed Cas back, he nevertheless could feel his restraint. The subconscious need to control himself kicked in and stopped him from getting lost in the kiss. It wasn't fair on Cas - and kissing was something that Dean was good at - but he figured that as long as he wasn't pushing him away, then that was progress.

Unless ignoring his discomfort was some kind of denial, then maybe Pam would rip him a new one when he told her. If he told her. He still wasn't comfortable with the idea of spilling his guts to a stranger, even if she wasn't supposed to judge him for it. It was a human thing, to judge the other people around you. Could she really turn that part of her off? He doubted it.

Cas pulled back slightly. "Where are you?" he asked, forehead creased in concern.

Dean looked confused. "I'm right here."

Cas stroked a hand through his hair. "I meant in here," he said, tapping a finger to Dean's temple.

"Oh." Dean looked sheepish. "That obvious, huh?"

"I like to think that I pay close attention to more about you than just your looks."

"Yeah, because if they went I wouldn't have much to— Mmph!"

Castiel's lips cut him off mid-sentence.

"Shush," he instructed firmly.

"But—"

A finger to his lips silenced him.

"There are many wonderful things about you and, if I have to, I shall make a list."

"It's gonna be a very short one," Dean mumbled behind Castiel's finger.

"Shush!"

Dean sighed.

When Cas was convinced Dean wasn't going to put himself down anymore, he dropped his hand. "Perhaps the reason you doubt us is because you doubt yourself."

Dean shook his head. "No, I don't think that's it. I don't know what it is, but I'm pretty sure it isn't that. Don't you think it'd have affected me and Lisa, if that was the case?"

"Hmm, probably," Cas conceded.

"And it's not so much us, as..."

"Me," Cas finished for him, realising what Dean was reluctant to say.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why can't you believe that I love you, and that I want to be with you?"

Dean tipped his head back, and looked at the ceiling. They were rehashing the same old conversations, and he'd talked about it with Pamela the other day. "You left," he accused.

"You didn't want me - I thought it was what was best for me," Cas explained patiently.

"You thought it was best not to be with me," Dean stated thickly, his vision starting to blur as tears filled his eyes.

"I thought it was best to put space between us," Cas said carefully. "Temporarily. It was never meant to be permanent, Dean - just until I stopped loving you."

"But if I can't figure out why it is I can't..." Dean licked his lips. "You're going to go again."

Despite doing his best to hold them back, a tear fell down his cheek. Immediately it was brushed away by Castiel's gentle touch.

"You are, and always will be, my friend," Cas told him. "No matter what happens. But I would prefer we were more than that."

Dean screwed his eyes shut.

"And that is why, for as long as you are willing to try, I will be right here by your side."

His fingers running through Dean's hair was soothing as he battled to get his emotions under control. He'd only meant to state a simple fact - not turn into a sobbing wreck. For some reason Castiel's touch was always relaxing so he leaned into him, seeking more comfort. Doing this kind of stuff with Cas never bothered him, and he wished that everything with Cas could be this easy.

"Maybe... you should talk to Pamela about this?" Cas asked hesitantly, a little unsure if he should be asking the question.

"We did. Kind of."

"Oh. Well, that's good," Cas replied warmly.

Dean stayed silent for a moment, before admitting, "I just don't get why you'd want to stick around."

"Because I love you," Cas stated simply. It was easy to say; he just wished it could be as easy for Dean to believe.

"We keep going around in circles." He feared Cas would leave, Cas assured him he'd stay, he didn't believe him so still feared Cas would leave... He closed his eyes and focused on memorising the feeling of Cas's fingers in his hair.

"Is there anything I can say that will make you believe me?" Cas asked, a little sadly. It pained him that Dean couldn't see what an amazing man he was, and he wished he could find a way to show him how he saw him.

Dean sighed. "Probably not. But then, I guess that's why I'm dragging my sorry ass to Pamela's."

Cas nibbled on his lip for a moment. "I think you have a very nice ass," he admitted, once he'd decided to speak.

Dean barked a laugh. "Yeah, I guess it's a pretty nice ass."

Cas grinned.

Turning to Cas, he changed the subject. "Oh, hey - so I've been thinking about what you've said before... that this isn't our apartment, but my apartment, and I was thinking... how about we put your name on the lease?"

Cas stared at him. "I couldn't possibly afford my half of the rent."

"You wouldn't have to. I wouldn't ask you to," he clarified.

Cas shook his head. "Dean, that's a huge step, and I'm just not financially able to—"

"It is a huge step," Dean interrupted carefully. "And I'm saying that, even though I don't get why you'd want to be with me - even though I can't be what you want right now - I want you here."

Cas was still frowning, but a second later his eyes widened as he realised the implication of Dean's gesture - the commitment it represented.

"This is your home," Dean emphasised.

"Are... are you sure?"

Dean looked him dead in the eye and held his hand. He didn't say anything, but then he didn't have to - Cas could read it in Dean's eyes that he'd made up his mind.

"Do I have to give you an answer now? Can I... can I think about it?"

Disappointment flashed across Dean's face for a brief moment, before he got control of himself again. It made sense that Cas wouldn't want to be tied to him - that he'd want the freedom to leave again when he finally realised that his life with Dean wasn't enough for him. When their dad had died and they'd inherited the contents of his storage unit, Sam had wanted nothing to do with it. He'd wanted nothing to do with their father, and hadn't wanted to be tied to Dean by John's things.

Castiel squeezed his hand, cupping it between both of his. It was warm, and Dean could feel his hand starting to sweat, but he didn't move it. Physically feeling Cas there helped ease some of the tension Dean felt, and the thought of losing him faded away for the moment.

"It's just a huge step," Cas repeated, as if he could read Dean's mind and knew he needed reassurance, "and I need to know that I - that we - are ready for it."

"Okay," Dean said thickly.

"I want to say yes," he assured him. "I just want to make sure it's the right decision. For us," he added.

. * * * .

Cas did think about it. A lot. And when Pamela observed that he seemed distracted during his next session with her, he admitted what was occupying his thoughts. "Dean wants to put my name on the apartment lease."

"Wow. That's a big step," Pamela said.

"That's what I said. I don't know how much thought he's put into it."

"It's not the sort of thing you suggest lightly," she commented.

"I know. But..." Cas trailed off

"But what?"

"With whatever... reservations... he has about us, is it a good idea?"

"That's something you have to decide for yourself."

"I don't know if I can," he admitted. "I know what I want, because I know how I feel, but I can't make an important decision like this blinded by my emotions."

"And yet you are aware of your emotions, so by extension you can't be blinded by them."

Castiel fell into a thoughtful silence as he mulled over her words.

"Benjamin Franklin was quoted as saying, 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained.'"

"Are you saying I should take Dean up on his offer?"

"All I'm saying is, there is often more to be gained by taking a few risks every now and then. Look at where you are now, compared to where you'd have likely been if you'd never moved in with Balthazar."

"Dean would be less afraid of me leaving."

"But..."

Castiel had been seeing Pamela for so long, he knew when she was trying to guide him towards a particular idea.

"But," Cas smiled, realising what Pamela was prompting him to realise, "Dean wouldn't have been pushed to act on his feelings for me."