They live in a bunker designed to withstand both human and supernatural attacks, and yet Dean would swear that the walls shake when he slams his bedroom door.

He violently swipes the papers, the books, and the reading lamp off of his desk. The papers fly everywhere, the books land on the floor with a scatter, and the light bulb in the lamp smashes to hundreds tiny pieces.

He wishes he had his laptop so he could have the satisfaction of seeing the small electronic bits spread out on the floor when he threw it at the wall with all of his frustration. Maybe the keys would fall lose and spell out the answer to his current situation in some kind of messed up divine sign.

Instead, he throws the bedside lamp from one end of the room to the other, satisfied when it breaks into pieces that loudly rain to the floor.

But it's not enough.

He kicks the bed. It is an old, well-constructed bed, from when things were made to last a lifetime. It creaks under the impact, but it doesn't give. He kicks it again, feeling the jolt shoot up his leg from the impact.

It doesn't hurt. It's not enough.

He kicks it again, again, again. It starts to hurt, but sometimes he hits the mattress, and it is too soft. His leg only grows tired.

There is nothing else to throw, nothing else to kick, nothing else to push.

Only the walls.

Dean doesn't think, just follows his most basic impulses, his mind too clouded by emotion to work through it all.

He pulls his arm back, ready to hit the wall with all of his strength, knowing the skin will tear, the blood will flow, the bones will break, and the pain will be deafening. And finally, he will have a second of peace, and a tangible problem to focus on.

But he doesn't get his peace.

A firm hand grips his wrist and keeps him from taking the swing. Another hand falls on his opposite shoulder, holding firmly but without hurting.

Dean tries to twist out of the grip, but it is so firm that he can't. He lets out an angry growl.

But he only gets the softest words in response. "Dean... Stop."

And he freezes.

Flashes of bloody hands, bloody clothes, bloody hair. Of bodies. Of an angel blade in his hand pointing at the one target that he would never aim at when of sound mind.

"Cas, let me go." He growls.

"Only if you promise not to do any further harm to yourself." Cas sounds completely calm. It only makes Dean even more angry.

"Cas!" Dean struggles against the grip again. Dean will not hurt Cas the way he did under the influence of the Mark, but he will not allow Cas to hold him down like this. But since Cas is all powered up, he holds Dean easily.

"No."

"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go. Let me…" Dean struggles, but somehow Cas's hands drain all energy from him. His voice gets weaker, and he doesn't allow the last word to leave his mouth because he knows it will come out as a sob. Instead, he takes a shaky breath to keep it all in.

Cas seems to feel the fight leave him, and the hands loosen their hold. Dean has to send whatever remaining energy he has left to his legs to make sure that he doesn't drop to the floor. He rubs his hands over his face, into his hair, and down his face again.

Dean knows he needs to say something, anything, to get Cas to leave. But everything that comes to mind will only make Cas stay for longer; 'I'm good', 'I'm fine', 'I'm okay'.

But Cas beats him to it. "I'm sorry."

Dean had planned not to look at Cas ever again, but his words are so unexpected that Dean turns around. Cas looks absolutely heartbroken. "Why? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I angered you. I overstepped this morning, and for that I am truly sorry." Cas looks around at the mess that used to be Dean's bedroom.

Dean shakes his head. "No. No, Cas, you didn't overstep. This isn't because of you. It was Sam, he said some things…"

"Whatever he said, it can hardly be worth injuring yourself over." Cas looks up from the debris, and Dean hears a hint of anger sneaking into the angel's voice.

It refuels Dean's own anger. "You know what? I'm a grown-ass man, if I want to hit the wall, I hit the goddamn wall!"

"I cannot let you do that, Dean."

"It's none of your business, Cas!"

"As your friend, yes, it is."

"No, it isn't!"

"Why do you insist on hurting yourself!?"

"Because I don't know what else to do!"

Whatever Cas wanted to retort, it gets replaced by a stunned expression.

A defeated, bitter laugh escapes Dean. He moves away from Cas, needing a bit of distance. "Damnit Cas… I tried, okay? I really, really tried. But I just can't do it."

Cas frowns, tilting his head, and Dean would swear that the angel is looking right through his soul. "Dean, please. I don't understand."

Dean takes a deep breath, straightens his back, and tries to stand as tall as he can when he looks at Cas. "I can't help it, Cas. The anger. This is just who I am, okay?" He gives the bed a small kick for emphasis. "This is just how I deal."

Cas takes a careful step forward, as if not to scare Dean. "Deal with what?"

"Cas, do we really have to do this?" Cas stands still, patiently waiting for Dean to continue. A clear indication that yes, they are doing this. "Fine… Sam sort of… He said that… He read this stupid article about signs that someone is in love, even if they don't know it, and… Sam just made it fit, you know?"

Cas looks away, self-consciously. "He figured out how I feel about you?"

"No. Yes. Well, he says that part was obvious." Dean shuffles his feet. "He said that… the signs fit… me."

Cas frowns even deeper. "You?"

"Yes, me." Dean huffs.

Cas's frown evolves into a sad understanding. "Oh... I didn't realise you were seeing someone…"

"What? No, I'm not, Cas…" Dean looks to the ceiling, as if an escape hatch might grow out of nowhere and send a ladder down for him to run away from this awful situation. "The signs fitted my behaviour… towards you."

Cas seems to freeze in time. For five long seconds, he doesn't move a muscle, doesn't even blink. When he finally speaks, it sounds strained, as if he needs to carefully shape each word coming out of his mouth. "But you do not have romantic feelings for me."

"Right…" Dean cringes inwardly at how unconvincing that sounds, even to his own ears.

It leaves the room in an uncomfortable silence. Dean aimlessly pushes a few shards of light bulb around on the floor with his foot, just waiting, hoping, dreading that Cas will leave now.

"Dean…" Dean closes his eyes. Cas says his name a lot, and he says it in so many different ways. The tone of voice that he uses right now indicates that Dean is about to hear something that he doesn't want to hear, but that he really needs to hear. "I do not wish to make you even more uncomfortable. But I need you to know, to understand, that my feelings for you cannot allow me to leave you at a time like this. At a time where you think so little of yourself that you will harm yourself, and then hate yourself for your own actions. You believe that you are no better than the anger you feel right now. You believe it so much that you forget that anger is a part of being human. Being angry does not make you any less the good, kind, loving man, who cares so much. I just wish… I wish you could get to the core of your anger, so when you feel it, you can deal more rationally than hurting yourself."

Yeah, Dean really didn't want to hear that. He slumps against the cool wall, closing his eyes. He doesn't have any more fight in him, especially not against Cas. His voice is gruff when he speaks. "I'm angry at myself, Cas. Not you. Not Sam. Well, a little bit at Sam. But mostly me. I'm angry because… I'm scared. I've been thinking things, almost doing things. Things that I shouldn't do. Like this morning… Cas, I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened, but it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry I just left like that. I know I messed up. I just got scared."

Cas takes a small step closer. "What are you so scared of?"

"What it means. What if it is what I think it is? What if it isn't? Cas, I don't want to ruin everything."

One more step. "What if you don't ruin everything? What if you end up building something?"

"You don't understand. It never works out. Not for me."

Cas tilts his head just a little and gives Dean a small smile. "When was the last time you tried?"

Now it's Dean time to frown. He calculates, and he almost can't believe the answer. "Ten years."

Cas smiles widens. "Ten years, huh? And what has happened in those ten years? What have you learned? What have you experienced? How much have you grown? Did it ever occur to you, that maybe you just weren't ready yet back then?" With that, Cas takes a step back. "Think about it, Dean. But please don't hurt yourself again."

Cas turns around and moves towards the door.

That's it. Cas is finally letting Dean get out of this horrible conversation.

But that means that Cas is about to leave. And suddenly that feels like the worst thing that could possibly happen in this moment.

The pull that Dean has been feeling inside, the one that he has tried to ignore since Cas came back, since he died, since… who cares? The point is, it pulls in him, stronger than ever, and Dean finally stops ignoring it.

Dean has only opened himself up to love two times in his life. With Cassie, he was young and naïve. It sounds cliché, but it's true. With Lisa, he was damaged. He was hurting over the loss of his brother, and he was caught between an apple pie fairy tale and a hunter's horror story. How do you stop hunting when every shadow you walk by could be a ghost, a werewolf, a ghoul? He was so split that he almost got Lisa killed. Both times, he screwed everything up, so he stopped trying.

But now? Now, he knows who he is, what he is. He knows that he won't stop hunting until the day he literally can't lift his gun anymore. And even then, he will probably, somehow, still be in the life. Being a hunter is not a job. It's a life.

And no one understands that better than Cas.

Cas is his one, only shot at happiness. And deep down, Dean already knew that. That's why he's been doing everything to make Cas stay, to make sure Cas feels at home. Because Dean needs him. No, Dean… loves him. Goddamn it, he loves him, and not just as a friend. Sam was right. Dean has been doing all the stupid, little things for Cas like he had done for Lisa; Making breakfast, taking care of her car, doing things with her and for her that would make her happy. All because deep down, Dean already knew the feeling that pulled at his heartstrings, tried to guide him towards Cas. But it was easier to just ignore the feeling and push Cas away. Easier, safer, and so incredible stupid.

Cas is almost at the door, and Dean can't have him leaving. Not even if it is just to another room in the bunker.

Dean doesn't even know that he has moved until he's grabbing Cas's arm and turning him around, putting them face to face.

The fear of Cas leaving overrides the fear of Dean screwing this up.

So, slowly, carefully, Dean leans in, giving Cas plenty of time to push him away. But Cas doesn't. Their lips meet, and the pull in Dean's stomach dissipates into butterflies.

It's chaste, experimental, unsure. Cas only moves a little, in a mixture of insecurity and disbelief. Dean is more secure in his movements, but just because he finally followed the pull in his heart, he is no less afraid.

Cas suddenly moves back, but only an inch. He is not pulling away, just creating room to speak. "Dean? What…?" Cas falters, just looking at Dean in absolute astonishment.

Dean leans his forehead against Cas's. "Please tell me you figured out this is what I was talking about."

Cas huffs a small, disbelieving smile. "It crossed my mind, but I didn't dare hope… You were not being very clear."

Dean chuckles. "I almost kissed you this morning. Thought that was pretty clear."

Cas smiles back. "I thought I was the one who almost kissed you. I didn't mean to, but… And then you left, and you were gone for so long. I thought I had ruined our friendship."

Dean shakes his head a little, not enough to break the point of contact between their foreheads. "No. I thought I messed up. I told you I didn't have feelings for you and then I go and almost kiss you. Such a dick move."

"Why did you tell me that?" Cas pulls back so he can look Dean in the eye. "Do you not… Is this…"

"Because I'm an idiot, Cas. I didn't get it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't realise how much you really mean to me. I didn't want to scare you off. I still don't want to. I haven't been with anyone I really care about in ages-"

"Ten years." Cas supplies.

"Yeah, ten years. I took the whole relationship thing and shelved it. So, before we go any further, you need to know that I will be making a lot of mistakes. I need time to figure this out. And I'll be rude, and blunted, and get angry-"

"And I will be right there with you. We will figure it out – together." Cas lifts a hand, and carefully traces his fingers down the side of Dean's face. It's almost too tender, but it immediately calms Dean down. "If it makes you feel any better, this will only be my second relationship. I married a woman I barely knew because it was easier than to be alone without any memories. It ended with me leaving her to follow you, never to return or letting her know what happened. I believe my poor experience is at par with yours."

Dean laughs. "Alright, we are both idiots."

"Indeed." Cas chances a glance down at Dean's lips. "Can I kiss you again?"

Dean pulls Cas closer. "Well, considering how bad we are at relationships, we should probably practice. A lot." And with that, he leans in and kisses Cas again, this time putting all of his heart into it.

-.-.-.-

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!