Chapter 20.
Jules had gone to her room to collect some things and Cas was in his room, hoping he hadn't made a mistake. Whenever he stopped to think about his relationship with Jules, it seemed doomed to failure and he found himself wondering whether he had any right to attempt a relationship with a woman who could do so much better.
Sam, he knew, would say he was overthinking. Sam, unique amongst the four of them, had experienced a happy, healthy, long term relationship and Sam understood people and Sam always spoke as if he believed Cas could find love and keep it. He talked as if it were just a matter of wanting it and going for it. Wanting it was not a problem. Cas had always secretly longed for companionship and caring and when he was around Jules, the vague, amorphous need became extremely specific. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to know everything about her, but in a non-stalkery, unweird way. He wanted that beautiful smile to smile on him forever.
It seemed like love, but love would want the best for the beloved and was he really the best that Jules could find? He kept thinking of the odd expression on Jack's face when he had mentioned the sleepover. Was it a weird thing to do? Did Jules see it that way? Was Jules sorry that she had allowed him to decide the pace and nature of their interactions? Was she sorry that she had ever become involved with him, however tenuously?
He heard her approach, her light, quick step as familiar to him as her face. He opened the door before she reached it and she came into the room, scattering his thoughts and bringing a rare peace to his heart. Whatever her doubts may be, she was there.
"Did you miss me?" she said.
"In the three minutes you were absent?" he said, "Every second." He wondered if that were too honest, too needy.
"I missed you too." she said. She put a bag down on the chair. "How do you feel about candles?"
"In what context?" said Cas.
"This context. I thought candlelight could be good, but if that seems stupid to you, or just too much ... "
"I like candles." he said.
She took some out of the bag and arranged them around the room. She started to fumble in pockets. "I have a lighter here, somewhere."
He gave her the silver lighter Dean had given him. "Use this." he said.
She lit the candles and gave him back the turned out the lights. In the golden glow, she looked even lovelier than usual. Of course, noticing beauty was not the same as being in love. It was his nature, as an angel, to see the beauty in his father's creation. Jules was objectively beautiful. He had to be careful to distinguish between appreciation of her bright eyes, flawless skin and elegant features and a real, profound, emotional connection. He needed to think clearly. He needed to assess his feelings clearly and logically and then ...
And then she kissed him, her lips just brushing his. It was nothing, the smallest physical contact, but it sent his mind spinning.
"Sorry." she said, "You just looked so good. I should have said something first."
"No, kiss me anytime." he said.
"It troubles you." she said.
"No, not the kiss." he said.
"Then what? Me?"
"Never you." he said. He struggled to find the words, but his mind was firing off bright colours in his head and he found it impossible.
"Too much pressure." she said, "I don't need an answer. I'm just glad it isn't me."
"I know I'm not doing well at saying the right thing. I try. At the moment, I'm trying to work out whether my feelings are romantic in nature or merely a natural reaction to the sight of your physical perfection."
"For someone who never knows what to say, you say some great things." she said.
"I wish I had Dean's understanding of this area."
"Dean seems to know a lot about random hook-ups, but I don't see you as the type. If you were, I don't think I'd like you so much."
"You don't like Dean?"
"As a hunter, yes. As a romantic prospect, Hell no."
"You prefer me?" he said. It seemed improbable.
"Why do you think I'm here?" she said.
"Well, it could be pity." he said.
She kissed him again, this time for longer. "Does that feel like pity?" she said.
"No," he said, "That feels like liquid fire."
"Let's stop worrying about putting this wildfire into words and just enjoy the warmth." she said.
"Wildfire can be dangerous and should be extinguished as quickly as possible." he said.
"Do I need to wave a sign saying, 'Metaphor'?" she said.
"I think it might help." he said. He watched her face for a moment and then said, "But you weren't making a serious suggestion, were you?"
She laughed softly. "Oh, Cas, how is there any woman who hasn't fallen in love with you?"
"Are you saying you have, or is that a joke or another metaphor?" he said.
"I'm not saying I have, because that's just likely to freak you out, so we're going to sit on this bed and watch the candles flicker and just be here, together. I don't need words. I don't need actions. I just need you here, with me."
They took their shoes off and got onto the bed. Again, she got onto the side furthest from the door, but it didn't bother him this time. He just sat beside her.
"Is the sleepover idea weird?" he said.
She grinned. "I'm fine with weird."
"So it is?"
"Not for us. We make our own rules, remember? Our sleepovers are cool. Our sleepovers are great."
"I like our rules." said Cas.
"Me too." she said.
"Why don't other humans make their own rules? The standard set seem to cause a great deal of unhappiness."
"I told you. I'm a problem solver by nature." she said.
"We're made for each other." he said, "I'm a problem."