A/N – I know that I haven't said anything for a long time. But thank you so much for reading this story and loving it as much as you all do. I'm glad that a lot of you see the way their relationship as realistic in this fic. That's what I aim for. Flawed and beyond beautiful. Hope this chapter refreshes you after last night's episode.

Tossing his cellphone on the bed closer to the window, Dean shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the arm of a chair. He was so close to losing his mind, being so weak scared the shit out of him. Because his mind felt so fragile, and since he had collapsed after Cas walked out on him weeks ago, maybe he had been pretending that he was okay all the time. Maybe he had been skating on thin ice. Far from accepting the truth. Miles away from believing that he could get better, that he could push through this and survive.

"Dean," Cas approached the other man with tentative steps and after he realized he had nothing to lose at that point, he wrapped his arms around the hunter.

Immediately, Dean's body tensed up because when they were so damn close, when he could feel so much of Cas, he was reminded of his doubts. And he hated himself for feeling so doomed by his childhood. For feeling like if he was weak and less of a man because he loved a man.

But Cas wouldn't let go of him. He never could anymore. Instead, he pulled Dean in and hugged him from the back, reaching up and gathering the hunter's shoulders within his grasp to create a kind of shield. And when Dean leaned back into his warmth, Cas melted.

He boldly pressed soft kisses onto the other man's neck when Dean tilted his chin upwards, and those emerald eyes fluttered close. Cas wanted to shelter him. To prove to him that what they were, was beyond anything physical. Was beyond their imaginations. And maybe if they just held onto each other, then nothing else would ever matter.

"I love you," he tried again, this time as his warm breath kissed the other man's flushed neck.

Cas wanted to unhinge every part of Dean's resistance. He wanted to open him up and explore every single flaw. He kissed Dean's neck. Over and over again. Almost like the taste and the feeling was too blissful. Too thrilling. He could feel the hunter's chest heaving. And then suddenly he tasted salty tears. Tears that had trailed down the other man's cheek and onto Cas' lips. And when he realized that Dean was crying, he turned him around in his arms and hugged him.

They swayed slowly on the spot, like if their souls were dancing. Because physically, their minds weren't in the same room. Cas was floating so high above the chaos in their lives and the only thing he marveled over was the way Dean felt in his arms. So certain and dependent in his embrace. He was crying, sobbing into the crook of Cas' shoulder, wetting his trench coat and maybe…maybe Dean was emptying his fears and his doubts onto him. Maybe Dean trusted him so much that he leaked all his sorrow and pain onto the only person he loved so much.

Cas kissed Dean's right ear and ran pathways with his fingers through soft, dark tendrils. Feeling and not thinking. Knowing and not doubting. He could feel the hunter trembling in his arms. The way they fitted perfectly together as they kept holding onto each other. As Dean relied on his support and his comfort whilst he collapsed inside.

By the time he had drained his tears on the other man's shoulder, Dean felt so exhausted. He wasn't ashamed of crying. He wasn't ashamed of showing his weakest side to Cas because he loved him so damn much. But then when they parted from each other and he turned towards the two beds on opposite ends of the room, Dean felt terrible all over again. Because he wanted Cas to keep on holding him. He couldn't imagine himself falling asleep without the other man's warmth. And when he climbed into bed that night, Dean reached for Cas in the darkness of the room.

Through the soft glow of the moonlight cascading through the window, Cas came to him without his trench coat on. Slipping into the bed made softer by their love for each other and turning on their sides just so that they could talk until sleep came. And when Dean finally opened up to Cas, he revealed so much of himself, that gradually the tears came. There was so much he wanted to tell him. So much he had concealed so far. So being honest was a relief.

"I'm scared," Dean's voice was so hoarse from crying.

"Of what?

"You know…"

"Of me?" Cas' right cheek was pressed onto the palm of his hand as he gazed into emerald eyes that were soft from tears.

"No," Dean's chest heaved. "Of what people will say about us. Like, suppose they try to hurt you or me?"

"I'm pretty sure that a human can't hurt you at this point, Dean," Cas actually smiled. "You've fought all kinds of monsters and won. I'm a good fighter too. Violence is not something to fear."

"I keep trying to swallow the fears."

"Tell me about all of them."

For a few seconds, Dean merely looked at Cas and became lost in his eyes that were the same color of the sky as night crept in. A darker blue that also reminded him of the sea at night, not fighting against heavy winds but calm.

"What if you grow tired of me, Cas?" Dean asked, aching to entwine their fingers in the dark. "What if you start to wake up every day and you realize that I'm not what you wanted? Maybe as I start to get old and grey and I get wrinkles and –"

"I've loved you for over ten years," Cas reminded the hunter. "And not once have I ever lost interest in you. I might have left you. But I never stopped loving you. I've also loved you when you were at your worst. When you were wounded. When you were possessed by the Mark of Cain. When you were obsessed with Amara…"

"Cas…" Dean felt ashamed of that memory.

"When you warded Bobby's house from me after we fell out. When you trapped me in a ring of fire and left me. When you marveled over angel killing bullets…" Cas' blue eyes twinkled as he teased. "I've also loved you when you told me I was dead to you. So I'll never grow tired of loving you, Dean Winchester."

"Why do you always have to say things that make me so mushy?"

"Love makes you mushy."

A soft wind stole into the motel room through the pink blinds that barely fluttered. It slipped in and lightly kissed the lapels on Cas' trench coat. Then chasing the distance between the coat and the bed, the light evening breeze caressed their faces. But it could never dull the dust of color on the hunter's face. No.

"I've never been this soft with Lisa or anyone else, Cas," Dean admitted. "You know that. You've been there through it all. I've never felt so damn raw inside like I feel when I'm loving you. It's like my whole life, the world and my experiences kept breaking me. Now you're just reaching into my chest with your love and slowly taking out the shards one by one. And you're trying to put my heart back together."

"Oh, Dean…"

"How are you doing that, Cas?" the hunter asked in a tone so soft, he was barely audible. "How can you know when to hold me when I'm dying inside and you never choose to let go until I'm breathing again?" Tears leaked down his cheeks and onto the pillow. "How can you…do those things?"

Cas reached across the few inches between them and softly caressed Dean's soft, wet cheek. "Maybe it's because I'm the only one who has touched your soul tenderly like no one else ever has. I've been in your mind. I've been there with you in your weakest moments and I've studied you because I have loved you for years. I know everything about you except prior to when we first met. So how do I do those things? Those things come naturally to me."

Dean couldn't reply, He shook his head and swallowed back the tears.

"Remember when I asked you earlier if me being a man physically makes you uncomfortable?" Cas tried again, fearing that he might wound their bond. But he needed to broach the topic.

When Dean sighed though, his simple act of expelling his frustrated feelings on the topic was enough. "I've never been intimate with a man and there are things that I need to experience differently. Like I've been attracted to men before. But the idea of…screwing them. I never really went that far. I mean, you're the only guy that I've ever kissed and…done stuff with."

"Stuff," Cas smiled sweetly.

"You know what I mean," Dean blushed deeply and avoided eye contact. "Anyway, the whole idea of going down on a guy was never…Cas, can you please stop looking at me like that? It's not okay. Going down on a guy feels like I'm going to have to…Cas." Reaching across the few inches between them, Dean playfully squeezed the other man's left shoulder.

"You're so cute, Dean." Just when he believed that the hunter would never anticipate his gesture, Cas closed the distance between them by tugging Dean's hips closer to his. Now they were fitted perfectly together. And Dean's entire demeanor changed from scowling to blowing his mind wide open.

"Now I can't remember what I was saying…"

"You were elaborating on how you would go down on me," Cas grinned. "And what you would do with your mouth."

"Wow," Dean swallowed hard and blinked in disbelief. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I am. But I'm also trying to make you comfortable with the idea of talking about sex. You seem to hold back your expectations. And I'm not just any other man, Dean," Cas slipped his hand into Dean's shirt and raked his fingers up the other man's smooth skin, the feel of muscles quite satisfying. "I'm yours. I would give you anything you ask of me."

"Can you kiss me?" Dean whispered although the room was as silent as a grave.

"You never have to ask." Brushing their lips together, Cas felt Dean's warm breath kiss his face as the hunter's parted lips expelled a sigh.

Their noses brushed affectionately and then tilting his head a little, Cas lightly sought out Dean, tasting a hint of coffee and whisky and realizing that he had slipped some into his cup at the café. And just as Dean had yearned to become mildly intoxicated by the alcohol, Cas longed to become captivated by their kiss. So much, that he reached for Dean's right shoulder whilst his fingers wrapped around the hunter's neck and he drew him in as close as possible. Just so that he could kiss him until he was breathless. Until he could witness those green eyes become vacant as Dean let go and drowned.

Cas realized that kissing Dean felt like sheltering inside a café on a rainy day, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of cocoa. Blissful couldn't quite describe how Dean made him feel. Instead, he preferred the word 'home'. Like returning to the bunker after a few days out on a hunt. Like finally being able to sit down and enjoy a decent meal without having to rush through things. Like standing under the shower and allowing the warm water to rain down upon him whilst he held his breath and imagined he was floating in the Loch in Scotland. Or he was sitting on top of the Eiffel Tower as he sun set, watching all the lights of the city flicker on one by one.

Kissing Dean made his heart sigh, his toes curl and his fingertips burn, yearning to touch and explore. To traverse the smooth skin on Dean's back. To feel his scars underneath his shirt and the ripple of his muscles as he moved into the moment. He was a very passionate kisser. The kind of kisser that didn't care about breathing between kisses. But he wanted to drown Cas until he gasped for air. And when Cas wanted to use tongue to explore, Dean allowed him because their connection was more than intimate.

By the time they were conscious of kissing each other for a long time, the inches that separated their lips felt like a crime. Dean couldn't fathom the possibility of feeling like that was his first real kiss. Everything about Cas felt new. Refreshed. Gave meaning to his life. And he wanted to know more. He wanted to touch him but he also wanted them to talk about things. To expound on things. He wanted to become brave enough to open up to Cas. To speak to Cas about his fears and to learn in the process.

"Dean you need to stop overthinking this," Cas finally said when he noticed that something was still troubling the other man. "Whatever we do together behind closed doors, no one has to know. No one will judge you."

"You might judge me," Dean finally admitted what had been troubling him since they were at the café.

Cas, however, frowned deeply. "I would never judge you. What are you referring to?"

"What if you don't like what you see –"

"Dean, stop it," Cas was growing slightly frustrated by the other man's inability to find himself beautiful. "To make you feel better, I have a proposition."

"Huh?" Dean's voice was so soft, almost as if he was losing himself. And when Cas rose from the pillow into a seated position, at first he was skeptical but then he followed. "Are you leaving? Please don't leave."

"I'm not leaving," Cas felt so soft inside by those words, and the pleading look in emerald eyes. He lightly touched Dean's right cheek. "I'll never leave you. I want you to become comfortable enough to trust me that I will not judge you. So…" when Cas slowly begun to unbutton his shirt, the dark material parting to reveal a slice of tanned skin, the hunter could only stare. "I'm going to…show you how I'm not perfect under my clothes. And I want you to do the same."

"You're…" Dean's eyes widened when Cas boldly shrugged off his shirt and draped it across the end of the bed. "Wow…you're so damn…" he was so stunned, he had no words. Instead, Dean let his fingers do the talking as he reached out tentatively and brushed the tips upon smooth skin that had been torn through by a bullet wound and had healed a good way but the scar still remained.

"Are you going to comply?" Cas asked, "or should I rip your shirt off?"

Dean blinked a few times and then he swallowed hard. He forgot how to breathe when the other man collected the top button between his fingers and boldly started to unbutton his shirt. And he wondered if Cas could be so mildly commanding, then what else could he anticipate? Would he reveal another side that Dean had never witnessed before? Would Cas really take control?

By the time all his buttons were undone though, Dean gasped when the material was brushed aside. He felt the cool air kiss his chest and wondered whether those blue eyes were pleased thus far or searching for something beautiful to like. However, from the moment he shrugged off his shirt, Cas seemed so stunned by what was underneath, his chest heaved. His lips parted a little and almost as if he was about to explode, Cas allowed his fingertips to barely trace the contours of Dean's heaving chest.

"Why on earth…" Cas began in a breathless tone, "would you even believe for a moment that I wouldn't like what I would see? Dean, you're…simply…beautiful. Every inch of you. You're beautifully toned and your scars…" when blue eyes traversed the marks of a few shallow cuts on the hunter's right hip, he understood immediately.

Dean was holding his breath, carefully studying every single change on Cas' demeanor to seek out the slightest form of judgment. But he discovered none. "I was low," his voice shook, "and I was in pain because of losing you. So I…"

"Oh my love…" Cas' voice was so soft, he brushed his cupped fingers over the wounds obviously made by a knife.

"I wanted to control my own pain. So, I had a moment. Well a few," Dean was stumbling, and he felt tears burning behind his eyelids. "See, I was drinking constantly so I was high," he confessed, lowering his eyes in shame, "and I was trying to…feel something other than my heart literally ripping into pieces. And now I regret it because the scars are ugly –"

"Your scars are beautiful," Cas interrupted, taking Dean's face into his grasp and lifting the hunter's eyes to meet his blue, intense gaze. "Every single one of them. But please don't hurt yourself again. If you ever feel like that, then talk to me about it. Do you understand?" He pleaded for reassurance.

"I do," Dean nodded, and he let out a long sigh, realizing that he had been holding his breath.

"Dean, every single inch of you must be so perfect. And I am so terribly sorry that we reached such a painful point where you felt compelled to harm yourself. Now this is my fault. I will never forgive myself for that."

"It's not…" the hunter bit his lips, lowered his gaze and slowly reached for Cas' hands. "It's not your fault. It's mine. Because if I had just…been open enough to see what was really happening between us, I could have done something about it. Instead I used too much energy doubting myself."

"Both of us did."

"Can you stay with me tonight?" Dean croaked in the dark, entwining their fingers and offering a pained look. Clearly he was trying to battle with his emotions all over again. But just from a simple touch, the meeting of their hands, he seemed to relax a little.

Cas smiled. He really had been hoping for the invitation. Most nights, sleep never came easily unless Dean was in his arms. "Of course I'll stay with you."

When both of them drifted into the deepest sleep merely fifteen minutes after, a light rain covered the town. And neither of them noticed that the window had been left open. They were on the fifth floor and with a clear view of the highway as vehicles rolled by, the two of them slept like babies. Dean's face nuzzled deeper into the smell of honey and cinnamon and Cas…Cas drowned in Irish Spring between the soft tendrils of Dean's hair.