"Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to retrieve any one item. What would it be? Why?"
Dean forces his eyes up from the phone to somewhere in the direction of Cas's face. "I guess whoever designed this thing didn't expect anyone answering to have actually had their house go up in flames."
"Or for anyone answering to be an angel. Unless it was holy fire, I would just keep going back for whatever items you and Sam wanted me to get." Cas shrugs, the trench coat that he kept on after his walk nearly sweeping the floor where he sits on Dean's desk chair. "I would probably start with particular magical items in the storage room, though. Some of them would likely cause a nuclear-level event if they were to be set on fire."
Well, that will be fun to think about on nights he's struggling to sleep in the future.
"I, uh, would save the Impala if the garage counts as being part of the house. If it's just the stuff in the main bunker space, I guess I'd want to keep Dad's journal. It's helped us through a lot and Sam and I have both added a shit ton to it at this point."
Cas looks at him patiently, as if waiting for him to add more, and he hates how awkward this silence is. It's what he imagines working in an open floor plan office must be like for the poor saps who have 9-5 jobs—being painfully aware of everyone else's presence but pretending you aren't. "What?" he eventually snaps, after another handful of seconds.
Cas cocks his head. "I was just waiting for the next question."
Right.
He quickly looks down at the list—What roles do love and affection play in your life?—and makes the executive decision to skip that one because, frankly, he's fallen for a lot of traps in his four decades on Earth, but he refuses to wander into one that obviously dangerous right now.
Before he can wonder if an omission counts as a lie, he reads instead, "Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life." Dean's mind provides many suggestions—all of which are sexual—none of which he wants to share with his…Cas. "You go first," he prompts.
"You already know about many of my…miscalculations with humans," Cas reasons. "But I suppose I haven't told you much about what I was like as a fledgling."
This catches Dean off-guard. "There's actually a word for baby angels?"
"I wasn't a baby in the traditional sense of the word. I was…newly-created."
"Potato, potahto, dude. It's the same thing."
The angel's look of exasperation is so familiar that Dean grins.
And then he remembers that everything is supposed to be weird now. Isn't it?
"Fine," Dean says, shifting on the bed slightly. "I'll let you win this fight so long as I get to win the next one. Just tell me about newly-created Cas." Even though he knows it's not what the angel would have looked like, he can't help but imagine a pint-sized version of Jimmy Novak, all too big blue eyes and scraped knees.
Cas leans forward, hands clasped together. "Once, I was walking on the beach with one of my older brothers, who stopped me at the last moment from walking on a fish. He told me there would be big plans for this fish—that it would turn into the culmination of all God's plans."
"What? Sushi?"
"Humanity…After much evolution."
"So…I'm related to sushi?" Dean clarifies, pointing to his own chest.
"In a very roundabout way."
"Remind me to tell Sam that next time he tries to get me to eat more fish."
"Dean…" And, OK, he can see how a chick might think Cas raising his eyebrow like that is hot. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"
He shuts up.
"Apparently Gabriel found out about this around the time that the fish started growing legs and walking. He thought it would be hilarious to create a simulation of it and then make me think I had pinned it to a tree with my angel blade during one of my training sessions."
"I…was very upset. I started shedding feathers and-" By the grimace that Cas is making, Dean assumes this is a much bigger deal than he understands. Luckily, Cas seems to recognize his expression and explains. "Feathers that are shed due to strong emotions still contain some residual grace—so they are not only powerful, but they will reveal some of their owner's feelings and memories to whoever picks them up. It's sort of like scattering the pages of your diary around and expecting no one to read them."
"Did you get Gabriel back at least?"
"I may or may not have asked several dozen angels to pray the same noise at him until he apologized. It's hard to describe—but I would say the closest human equivalent would be Styrofoam squeaking."
"Not bad," he admits, thinking about how long it's been since he last pranked Sam. Cas would have to be on his side—just by default, right?
"Your turn, Dean."
Crap, he hasn't thought of anything yet. "Er…."
Eventually, he stumbles through a story about breaking into someone's house for a case when their dog came out of nowhere to bite him in the ass. "Huge German Shepard named 'Duchess' of all things—and of course, she had to bark up a storm. By the time the cops showed up to check out the disturbance, the damn dog had ripped a hole through my pants AND my underwear. Let's just say, when the police chick frisked me down and handcuffed my hands behind my back, it was a bit more of an intimate experience than it normally is." Great, this turned out sexual anyway.
However, Cas is just sitting there like normal, lips turned slightly upward in amusement like normal. Ever since they resumed answering questions he's been absolutely and completely…normal.
Dean knows it's impossible—but he's genuinely starting to wonder if the angel forgot what happened between them this morning. You can't take that shit back. Cas might end up regretting what he said—saying it wasn't real or that he changed his mind. But he can't pretend like it never happened.
"Aren't you supposed to be jealous or something?" Dean asks, realizing that, somewhere along the way, his brain completely disconnected from his mouth. "I mean…. No, I don't mean—" God, he hates feeling like this. Self-consciousness. But mostly, exhausted. The way a wrung-out towel feels. "Look, today has been a lot for me. I have no clue what I'm saying or what we're doing right now."
"We're…talking?"
"But I don't know how to just…talk to you…now that you've told me…" Dean rubs the back of his neck. "You know, what you told me…"
"For the love of…" Cas grumbles. "Would you like some kind of code word for it?"
"You're into me."
"Close enough."
"But you're annoyed by me."
Cas leans back. "Those two things have never been mutually exclusive before. I don't see why they would start being so now. All that's changed is that you're aware that the emotions coexist."
"But…" Dean struggles to put any words to the uneasiness inside him, wishing he had some way of just thrusting the whole tangled, vomit-inducing thing at Cas and saying 'here!'. "When we're at diners and I hit on waitresses, you don't seem…you know…bothered or anything."
"Dean," Cas sighs, closing his eyes briefly. "When I said earlier that I didn't expect you to reciprocate, I meant it. I've believed you when you've called me 'friend' and 'brother'—and have been genuinely happy with the closeness you allow me. I was hoping for honesty between us. Not…." He smiles somewhat sadly.
"Anyway, you hitting on women you find attractive is a fairly common sight. And since there was never a possibility in my mind of you ever returning the same feelings I have for you, it would have been unfair of me to try and stop you from seeking companionship wherever you found it appropriate."
Cas pauses only a moment. "I suppose I have also taken comfort in the fact that their place in your lives is mostly fleeting. They will not be the person you count on to back you up on a hunt or choose to confide in about your worries. You take a lot of people into your bed. You don't take many people into your family and I recognize the privilege of that."
Dean barely remembers high school science, but he doesn't think any frog in biology class was ever dissected as casually as that. "So…not jealous then?" he wants to clarify.
Cas's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Do you want me to be jealous?"
Dean doesn't know so he doesn't answer. "You're talking about all this stuff in the past, but what if, right now, I decided to go out and find someone to take me home?"
The angel tilts his head to the side slowly. "Considering our…circumstances, I might take it more personally than I have before. But I will always be your friend, Dean. I will always be your family. That won't change just because there's another layer of complexity to it now."
The two of them examine each other for a moment.
"Are you currently interested in leaving to find a partner?" Cas asks after a minute.
"No." He actually can't think of a time he wanted sex less in his life. He just wasn't sure how he would feel about Cas telling him not to.
"If you do, all I ask is that you let me know. Besides that, the only other expectation I have is for you to be Dean—as infuriating and crass and insensitive as that can be sometimes."
"I really failed at teaching you how to pick up people, didn't I?"
"Perhaps you'll explain it to me again at some point," Cas says, dragging his gaze over Dean obviously so that he unwillingly feels each inch of his body heat up in turn. By the time Cas reaches his eyes again, he feels like he's wearing a lot less than three layers and he can't help but swallow nervously.
Well, shit.
