"Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met," Dean reads, rolling his eyes. "They love this goddamn question."
"They must think it's important," Cas counters, examining him closely—and Dean's got to admit, this is probably harder for the angel to answer—considering he's already admitted to all the emotional stuff. Dean's only blabbered about spiders and said that Cas is a badass fighter.
With that in mind, he takes a breath, figuring he should at least go first. "You know how much I hate the whole destiny schtick. But even before you guys decided to write Sam and me into the Bible, I sorta felt like I didn't have a lot of choice anyway. I mean, what was I gonna do? Not take care of Sam when Dad was going AWOL all the time? Not become a hunter when that was all I was raised to do? Not try to save the world when the only alternative was to watch it burn?
"I mean, you of all people, get it," Dean shrugs, running his hands over his jeans.
"And I know we've talked about how you—you chose me over the grand plan. But the thing is-" He's only realizing now how chick-flicky this is going to sound, and he wants to stop himself, but Cas also deserves to hear it so… "I chose you too."
As nervous as he is, he meets Cas's eyes—wanting to see how he's taking this. The angel looks back steadily, like a beacon from a lighthouse, and Dean fortifies himself for this next part. "Nothing about my life set me up to trust you. But I did. And when you screwed up with the Leviathans, I ultimately chose to forgive you even when I could have just…cut you out.
"I'm probably not explaining this right. But, even though I wouldn't have met you if I wasn't a hunter, it just feels like you weren't a part of my story that was planned out from the beginning. Like you were only meant to make a cameo appearance and I was the one that…wrote you in…because I wanted you to be there.
"So, I, uh," he looks down at his hands again. "I guess something I like about you is that…you really do make me believe in free will. In a few different ways."
There is a pause where all he hears is Cas subtly shifting on the bedspread. When the silence goes on a beat too long, he glances back up only to see Cas hide a smile behind his usual stoic expression. A second later and the smile reappears, then immediately gets tucked away again. And it's fascinating watching him struggle to achieve a poker face.
"I would presume," the angel says, once he seems to have gotten all his features under control. "That you would prefer that I don't make a big deal of what you just said."
Dean releases a grateful sigh. "It would be appreciated, yeah."
"As you wish."
Cas scans the room, casually, like they're playing a game of iSpy instead of Truth or Dare (hold the dare).
"I like the care you put into the Impala," he says, at last, which surprises Dean and maybe disappoints him a little. By this point, he had started expecting everything that came out of the angel's mouth to sound vaguely like it should have swelling classical music underneath it. Cas's lips twitch. "It's especially enjoyable to watch you washing her."
And suddenly, any self-consciousness Dean felt for his own confession gets swept away and he is startled to find himself chuckling. "Glad to know I've been putting on a show," he says and then actually winks, which makes Cas grin again.
"Dean?"
"Yeah, Cas?"
"About that question we skipped earlier… 'We are both in this room feeling…?'"
Dean raises his eyebrows, "Yesssss…?"
"I'd like to submit 'hopeful'."
"I'm pretty sure you just jinxed us." He takes in Cas's expression, which is quietly expectant. "Fine, I'll give you that one," he says.
"We are both in this room feeling…" Cas paces his words out carefully. "Like we're going to be more honest with each other even when the truth spell is over."
Dean snorts. "You really have the subtlety of a freight train—but sure, Cas, if it helps, I'll promise to…be more upfront, I guess, as long as you do."
"We are both in this room feeling…"
Dean crosses his arms, amusedly.
And, of course, that's when Sam comes barging into the room.
"What the hell happened to the kitchen?!" they hear before he even fully opens the door. "It looks like a ghost blew up in there…if ghosts actually worked like they do in Ghostbusters."
"That is the movie where the hunters wear strange backpacks and get chased by a giant marshmallow, right?" Cas asks, and Dean is definitely making him watch it again if that is all he got out of it.
Sam is still waiting, impatiently. "I got, uh…distracted by something earlier when I was cooking," Dean explains to his brother and, at the sudden reminder he hasn't eaten anything all day, his stomach gives a loud growl. "Guess I should do something about that, huh?"
"I was just about to pick up an order for pizza," Sam announces. When he sees Dean open his mouth, he cuts him off, "Yes, I got you a meat lovers. And cheese knots. And wings."
"I knew I liked you sometimes."
"Just try to make the kitchen not a disaster area by the time I get back," Sam grumbles, fondly, before leaving as quickly as he came.
Dean turns to Cas, eagerly, "Any chance you could just mojo the mess away?"
"As long as you and Sam can avoid getting life-threatening injuries in the next few hours that would require me to be at full strength. Do you think you can manage that?"
"I'll reschedule accidentally-touching-a-weirdass-artifact-in-the-bunker for the weekend," Dean quips, getting off the bed and stretching his arms over his head, producing a vaguely-disturbing pop in his lower back.
"Or you could just wear gloves," the angel points out, rising also with much less noise.
"Uh huh. I think we're both in this room feeling like you're a sarcastic little shit," Dean says, gesturing for the angel to go in front of him.
"What can I say?" Cas responds, dryly, looking back with one hand on the door frame. "You bring it out in me."
"Hell right, I do!" Dean agrees, enthusiastically.
