A/N: Hi. If you're still reading this story, holy crap. Thank you. I know its been forever and a day. Without going into too much detail, the last year of my life has been a lot. When I finally did have the ability to update, the imposter syndrome kicked in hard. I nearly abandoned this story, but I hate doing that. I still have more to tell for these dumb clueless boys, and I still have more to tell for Dean. If you've stuck with me this long, it means far more than you know.


Cas's POV:

Dean Winchester lit a fire in me that I had never before experienced in my existence. As an angel in the garrison, I had never felt emotion with the intensity of which I felt it on earth. I'd never experienced much of any emotion, truly. Pulling Dean from Hell had simply been an order I was following—I'd put little thought into it as I'd descended into the pit, wrapped an arm tightly around his struggling soul, and hauled the human up into his body. Rebuilding him, re-crafting his DNA and making him whole again, had been a clinical necessity and nothing more. After carefully waiting to hear the first few stuttering beats of his heart as it reignited, I'd quickly gone in search of a vessel with which to present myself to him for his mission. As Heaven had triumphantly declared Dean Winchester is saved, the swell of pride in my chest had been for successfully carrying out my duties, not for saving a human life.

Frankly, Dean had frustrated me to no end in our first months together. While I'd tried to come to grips with the limitations of a vessel and adjust to life on earth while also directing the Winchester brothers on preventing the 66 seals from being broken, Dean had a remark or contradiction to the plan at every turn. More than once I'd had to remind myself that he was chaotically human in the most vital sense of the word; he fought with emotion, and his heart, which I was not used to.

The moment I discovered I felt something for Dean was when I made the conscious decision to rebel against Heaven and save him from Zachariah forcing his hand in becoming Michael's sword. I knew the moment I pulled him from that room after we found out the plan to finish the seals so that Michael and Lucifer could have their final showdown, my life in Heaven would be over as I knew it. And I didn't care. I wanted no part of what it had become.

That feeling grew more into love every day, though I was unable to identify it as such for much longer than I should have. With every sarcastic smirk and swagger and self-sacrificial plan, each passing year I knew I was more and more under this man's spell—that there was nothing I wouldn't do for him.

When he'd turned to me, eyes frenzied, and begged me to listen, the force of his thoughts and emotions had nearly doubled me over as if by a physical blow. I'd never been subjected to this before. I felt the familial warmth of my found family's love; I felt the pleasure twisted into stomach sinking pain when Dean was with a woman. But this had been overwhelming. There was no way to put into words the sentiment that Dean had flung towards me, but the intent was clear. This beautiful man loved me back.

Even now, nearly a week later, the thought had me weak at the knees. Romantic entanglements between humans and angels had never been acceptable, but that was due to the possibility of creating a Nephilim. Such a problem was a nonissue here. I laughed out loud to myself at the fact that I was even pondering this—that somehow, some way, I was in a position where the feelings I had for Dean could ever be even remotely returned. It felt as if at any moment an elaborate cosmic joke would be revealed to me. That Gabriel would come around the corner laughing at his prank, or even that Chuck himself had come back to ruin me.

It made no sense for Dean Winchester to want me the way that I wanted him.

Little had changed between us in the last week apart from Dean's desire to be away from me. Instead, we kept a close proximity at nearly all times; just the slightest brushing of hands, a small shared smile at the dinner table. He no longer had as much anxiety radiating off of him, and I felt guilty knowing that I had caused so much of that. If I had come to him sooner with my own feelings, perhaps much of his struggle would have lightened. I also knew, however, that John Winchester's disapproval was a constant nagging hum in Dean's head. I was no longer a creature of violence, but the urge to ascend into that man's Heaven and drag him down where he rightfully belonged gnawed at me. I had never hated another like I hated John. I'd known he was neglectful to his sons, but after Dean's confession at Thanksgiving in particular, the thought that he was enjoying any sort of paradise made my skin crawl. I knew better than to speak to Dean about the extent of my hatred for his father because despite any of Dean's own feelings, part of him was still deeply conditioned to loyalty and it would only end up an argument if he felt he had to defend him. Instead, all I could do was be there to remind him that the harmful things his father had instilled in him about himself were not true.

While nothing romantically had truly happened between Dean and myself, I think Sam noticed the shift. At the very least, he'd noticed that we were no longer fighting and he was very pleased with that fact. When he announced that Eileen was coming down to stay through the holidays, his gaze seemed to flicker to Dean and I for a tad too long. Dean hadn't seemed to notice however, and that was all that mattered. I didn't care what Sam knew or didn't know. I only cared that Dean not feel outed before he was ready. I didn't know if he would be able to come back from that.

The rush to get the bunker in order for Christmas had begun. The boys had never really decorated before Jack came along, but now Dean and Sam were hauling an eight foot tall spruce tree down the metal staircase while Jack stood at the bottom, beaming. Dean had refused to let me carry it (to Sam's exasperation) and said he was a man and he could do it himself. All the same, I watched his red face and scraped hands anxiously as he struggled to haul his end to the tree stand.

"I really can finish it off, you've proven your point—" I started, taking a step towards them.

"We got it, Cas," Dean managed, grunting, and I saw Sam's strained expression as he rolled his eyes and winced when the tree's needles dragged across his cheek.

"This is ridiculous and unnecessary," I sighed, but I restrained myself and let them maneuver the huge tree into its stand by themselves.

When they were finished, Dean collapsed into a chair hard, sweat rolling down his temple. He saw my expression and grinned as he wiped a hand across his forehead. "See? Piece of cake."

I frowned and touched two fingers to his damp skin without waiting for permission. He only had minor scrapes, but seeing his skin marred in any way was difficult for me. In order to avoid undue suspicion, I approached Sam and did the same.

"Damn, now Sammy's not gonna be able to brag to Eileen about the battle scars he got fighting the Christmas tree," Dean teased as he watched the wound on Sam's cheek close.

Sam gave him a sarcastic smile in return, sliding his middle finger up the side of his face in a mock scratch of his skin.

My attention returned to the scene at hand as Jack clapped his hands together once in satisfaction, a wide smile on his face. "Time to decorate it!"

"Give me a minute, kid," Dean said, pulling the hem of his shirt up to dry his forehead. "Trying to get my heart rate back under 200, here."

I glanced at him, and he scowled. "Not a word."

I smiled and raised my hands in surrender before turning to Jack. "I'll help you decorate it."

He didn't hesitate to grab a string of lights off of the war room table and thrust it into my hands. "Cool! Thanks." He took a spool of shiny silver garland and attempted to begin threading it around the tree's wide base, and Dean jumped up like he'd been electrocuted.

"Okay, hold on, hold on," he said grouchily, but his eyes were soft. "We gotta do one thing at a time or it'll all get tangled. Lights first, remember?"

I was filled with warmth as I watched him gently take the garland from Jack and set it back on the table. Dean was a good father. This atmosphere suited him—domestic, in his socks in front of the Christmas tree as he put a hand on Jack's shoulder and started laying out items in the order they belonged. I pulled my eyes away as I slowly took the staircase to a more manageable height for starting the lights, and I saw Sam quickly avert his gaze when my eyes met his.

Yes, he suspected more than he was letting on. That much was evident.

After lights and garland had been painstakingly wrapped around the grandiloquent tree, the four of us on two different floors and leaning precariously over steel railings to accomplish the task, I had to admit that it was a beautiful sight to behold. Silly, perhaps, given its unconnected origins to Christian Christmas, but nice to look at all the same.

Jack was hanging the last of the ornaments when Sam's phone rattled against the table, and he retrieved it before smiling down at the screen. "Eileen's here," he said, turning and taking the stairs nearly two at a time up to the thick steel door of the bunker.

Dean took this opportunity to spare me a soft smile, his cheeks slightly pink. He ran a hand through somewhat damp hair as he fixed me with those irresistible green eyes.

I smiled back broadly; I couldn't help myself. He truly was beautiful.

I heard the grating noise of the bunker door being dragged open, and glanced up to see Eileen enveloping Sam in a warm embrace. She looked over the railing and waved at all of us, and Dean laughed and clapped his hands before meeting her halfway down the stairs for a hug of his own.

"Eileen!" Jack said happily, smiling from where we'd just noticed he was standing rather precariously on the back of a chair in an attempt to hang the star. He jumped down and landed lightly on his feet before any of us could admonish him for his foolish behavior, and handed the star to her instead. "You're just in time to put the topper on!"

Eileen took it from him and looked my direction. "What, you aren't going to make Cas sit on the tree?" she asked. I watched the edge of her mouth tilt up just slightly.

Jack cocked his head. "I imagine that'd be uncomfortable. Not to mention he'd mess up all of our hard work."

She laughed, giving me a wink. "You're probably right," she told him. "Let's hang the star, then."

She ascended the staircase once more, Sam tight on her heels, and put her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she leaned over the metal railing to place the star.

I fought a smile as Sam anxiously reached out as if to steady her and then thought better of it, dropping his arms. It was a wise choice. Eileen was less than appreciative when she was made to feel fragile. I did understand Sam's frustration, though. I glanced at Dean, who was jabbing his index finger aggressively to the left in a motion to help her straighten the topper. I had a stubborn thorn of my own.

Dean suddenly gave an enthusiastic double thumbs up, clapping his hands together. "Yes! You're good!"

Eileen retreated to safety and huffed out a breath before giving everyone a satisfied smile. Anybody got a beer? she signed, starting down the staircase.

"'Atta girl!" Dean grinned. He clapped her on the back as she joined him, and I didn't miss the soft smile and head jerk he gave me before leading her to the kitchen.

Dean's POV:

Over the next few days, wherever we could manage without raising suspicion from the rest of the family, Cas and I stole fleeting moments together in my room. Ten minutes here, five minutes there, it felt like we were teenagers skipping class to hookup behind the bleachers—when in fact, nothing more than quiet conversations and shy hand holding had ever taken place between us. My room became our refuge not only because it was the only place I felt safe in this entire bunker, but also in part due to the fact that I wasn't confident enough to go into his room. That space had always felt so otherworldly and off limits to me, despite being the same basic bedroom set up that the rest of us had. Castiel was not the same as we were.

Cas always maintained respectful boundaries when he came to see me; I was embarrassed to admit how much having him simply sit next to me on my bed and run a reassuring thumb across the back of my hand while I complained about one thing or another affected me emotionally. But I looked forward to these moments more than he'd ever believe.

His soft knock signaled that he was back again, and I jumped up from my bed quickly. "Come in," I said under my breath. I knew he would hear.

He entered quickly and closed the door softly behind him before stepping towards me, a gentle smile on his face. "Hello, Dean," he said.

"Hi," I grinned, wrapping him in a hug happily.

He squeezed me to him, and I could feel myself melt a bit in his grip. "I very much enjoy getting to hold you like this," he murmured.

My cheeks flamed at that, and I pulled back, hiding my face. "Yeah, yeah," I grunted. "Don't be gay." I ignored the way his words had pulled at something in my stomach.

"My apologies," he said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "I wouldn't dream of it."

I rolled my eyes at that, but didn't reply.

He reached out slowly to take my hand in his. He always moved so carefully with me, like he thought I was going to run screaming the other direction. Hell, sometimes I wondered myself. I still couldn't believe I was allowing myself this kind of vulnerability. My eyes were on the floor as his warm thumb slid back and forth across my skin. "Anything new?" he asked.

"In the four hours since we last talked?" I teased.

"I thought perhaps you had realized how asinine it was to want a relationship with me," he replied. His tone was light, but I saw something flicker in his eyes, like it was a real fear.

"Not likely," I scoffed, but the butterflies started in again. Hearing those words out loud did something to me that wasn't entirely unpleasant. A relationship. The angel standing in front of me was in a relationship with me. For all intents and purposes, if I was able to get my head out of my ass, we could have whatever we wanted together, and that was something I'd never afforded myself the possibility of.

He smiled slightly, and it took everything in me not to throw myself back into his arms right then. "Well, good," he replied quietly, giving my hand a small squeeze.

Despite my best efforts, I heard Dad's taunting voice in my head at that. I pulled my hand away with a sigh, and made a show of scratching at my cheek with it so that it wouldn't seem as rude of an action. "You wanna go watch a movie in the Dean cave?" I blurted. It was a dick move to change the subject, and I knew it, but I clearly wasn't capable of having that conversation right now.

Cas looked surprised, but thankfully he didn't seem upset. His smile widened. "Of course. When?"

"Now's as good a time as any," I shrugged. I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched Cas's eyes crinkle at the corners. He was seriously more beautiful than I deserved.

"Should we walk there together?" he questioned, and my heart squeezed. The way he said those words so sincerely, without an ounce of bitterness or sarcasm, hurt. He deserved better than to wonder if it was acceptable to be seen walking together with the guy he was (dating?) seeing. He deserved someone who wanted to scream their love for him through the loudspeakers. I deeply, and none too optimistically, hoped one day I would be capable of giving him that.

"Absolutely," I replied. "Nothing wrong with that, c'mon. We always have. Not changing that now."

He fixed me with a long look, as if he wasn't sure whether I was actually 100% on board with the wild idea of walking through the bunker next to him, and then finally nodded. He opened my bedroom door and gestured for me to go out ahead of him.

"Now, don't start with any of that 'ladies first' crap," I grumbled halfheartedly, but I walked through the door anyway and out into the hallway.

Cas looked confused. "If holding the door for someone is seen as a gesture of regarding them with femininity in your culture, I have years to atone for with your brother," he replied, and it took me a second to recognize that his lips were once again twitching towards a smile behind his stoic expression.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling. The guy's deadpan humor never failed to get me on the rare occasions that it struck. "Alright, alright, fair enough," I laughed.

We made our way to the cinema room, affectionately nicknamed the Dean Cave, in companionable silence. Sam and Eileen were nowhere to be found (yuck) and I heard Jack's television in his room as we passed his door, so there were no tagalongs when we settled into the worn secondhand couch to load up Netflix.

"Any requests?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

"Perhaps something with a Christmas theme?" Cas suggested. I heard a note of hope in his voice.

I resisted the urge to groan. I had nothing against Christmas movies, but I'd been planning for a bit more action and a bit less Hallmark domestic. I typed the word 'Christmas' into the search bar, and internally rolled my eyes at the results. The Christmas Chronicles, A Christmas Prince, Christmas with a View, A Very Country Christmas.

I continued to scroll through the titles dubiously, until I stopped on one that made me smile. Far too many years in a row, Sammy and I had sat alone as kids on Christmas in cheap motel rooms, trying to find signal on crappy old TVs, and often times this movie had played on repeat all day on the holiday channels. I'd always pretended to hate it, but having that weird little tradition was the closest thing Sam and I ever had to normal growing up.

"Dean?" Cas questioned, and I realized I'd been reminiscing for longer than I'd thought.

"Yeah, sorry," I said, hitting the play button on the Roku. "How do you feel about A Christmas Story?"


By the time that dumbass kid had gotten his tongue frozen to the pole, I was acutely aware that Cas and I had moved, maybe unconsciously, closer together on the couch. I could feel the warmth of his hip and thigh against mine, and while he stared straight ahead at the screen, something in me wondered if he was thinking about our proximity as well or if I was just way too invested. Who was I kidding. Cas wasn't historically King of Personal Space anyway; I doubted it had even crossed his mind.

I felt like a fucking seventh grader going on my first date to the theater. There was no reason my heart should have been pounding like it was. I'd watched probably close to a hundred movies with Castiel over the years. This was not anything to be creaming my pants over.

Cas shifted slightly, and I knew he had sensed my anxiety because he glanced over at me. "Are you okay?" he murmured.

I sighed. It wasn't fair that he could read me so easily when he was so impossible to gauge any sort of emotion on. "We're close," I blurted.

A worried expression crossed his face. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I can move."

I grabbed his hand so quickly that even I looked down in shock. "No, please don't," I said. The words tumbled out on their own accord and sounded pathetic.

He looked to his lap, where my hand curled over his on his thigh, and he smiled. "Okay," he said quietly, gently twining our fingers together.

My breath caught, and I did consider pulling away then. Holding his hand within the safety of my bedroom behind a closed door was one thing, but it felt very exposed to be doing it in a room where anyone could see it happen.

Dean Winchester, that is the most prudish thing that's ever entered your brain, I thought to myself, and that broke through my anxiety enough that I smiled back at him and scooted a tad closer still, tucking a leg up under myself as I relaxed slightly. This felt right. None of the rest of the crazy shit in my life ever made sense or went the way it should, but here, now, I realized that this was what happiness felt like.


The next couple of days continued in a similar pattern. Eileen and Sam were too wrapped up in each other to spare a second glance at the way Cas and I kept going downstairs to watch movies, though I didn't like the thoughtful glint in Jack's eye. The film of the day was Krampus, to Cas's dismay, but I skirted his disapproval by reminding him that technically, it was a movie about Christmas. As this was day three of our mating ritual, I'd worked up to scandalously putting my arm around his shoulders as we watched the movie. It made the most sense to me and came naturally to be the one tucking him into my side, as I'd done my entire life with others, but something about it felt slightly off. I think a small part of me, as ashamed as I was, wished I was the one curled up under his arm. I'd always found myself wondering what that would be like, to feel protected and held like that, but of course that had never been in the cards. Nobody wanted to be with a pussy of a guy who needed held by his girl. That was my job.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, watching as the monster onscreen burst through the door. "I thought I was on the trail of one of these sons of bitches once. Before I met you."

He turned his face up to look at me. "You thought?"

"Yeah, turns out it was a couple of pagan gods disguised as pie making suburbians. Way scarier."

I felt Cas's shoulders shake in a silent laugh as he looked away, and I grinned. "Hey, damn it. They were some real assholes. Wouldn't even let us cuss."

"What a monstrosity," he agreed, straight faced, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I escaped with my life," I scowled, nudging him.

He chuckled, nestling tighter against me and meeting my eyes with a playful glimmer in his own, and I wanted to kiss him.

The urge came from nowhere and nearly knocked me backwards. I found myself leaning towards him without conscious thought, putting a hand on his leg to brace myself as I did, and only the sudden mocking 'Fucking queer' in my head roused me enough to stop. I uncomfortably cleared my throat and pulled away. "Damn it, man," I sighed. My stomach rolled threateningly, and I wondered how much worse it would make things if I puked on him right now.

Cas was watching me carefully, and he reached his hand back out to me without words.

I took it and looked at the floor. "Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied immediately.

I shook my head, sighing. I wanted to hit something. Why couldn't I just fucking let myself be happy? Twice now, we'd come within millimeters of sealing a kiss. Both times, back at the Ison House and now, I could've had everything I'd wanted if I'd just grown a pair, yet here I was. The only thing standing in my way at this point was me and I knew that.

Cas gently ran the pad of his thumb across the back of my hand in a soothing repetitive motion. Neither of us spoke. My jaw was set as I counted the fibers in the old rug.

I think he knew that no amount of placating words would help in that moment, and none were offered. The only noise in the room came from the tv—a meaningless conversation as the movie carried on. In that moment, I envied those poor sons of bitches. Monsters, I knew. Monsters didn't require self-reflection, or emotion, or even a second thought in general beyond basic strategy. This? I was in way over my head. Not even my huge self-sacrificial world saving decisions had been this hard, which quite frankly probably said more about my sanity than it did the difficulty of my situation.

I was only aware how deeply my fingernails were in my palm when Cas's gentle but insisting fingers slid beneath mine to stop me. I did look at him then, and there was a touch of soft concern in his eyes. "Would it be easier if I gave you a moment?" he asked.

I frowned. "Nah. I'm fine. Promise."

He nodded, but I could tell he didn't fully believe me. I settled back into the cushions and bit the inside of my cheek hard. His hand remained a warm tether in my own as I focused forward to the screen, and I worked on feigning concentration as my mind continued to spiral.

It was just a kiss (so fucking nasty). What was stopping me (Might as well suck his dick, sissy)? Cas deserved so much better than me (you're damn right he does). But God, I needed to feel his lips against mine like a deep ache (you're a disappointment, Winchester).

The credits rolled, we stood, we held each other for a moment and then we walked back together. Not once did I let my easygoing expression fall. But by the time I reached my bedroom and closed the door behind me, the metallic taste of blood was pooling on my tongue.


Having Eileen over brought out a different version of my brother. Sammy smiled so much more when she was around, and it made me happy. He deserved somebody like her. I teased them, but seeing the love in his eyes for her was all I could ever want for him. Dinners were livelier, and Sam, who was usually very content to let me cook, had been making dinner with her nearly every night. I'd even caught him humming a Christmas carol one evening, which he'd denied at once. The menu tonight was a stir fry, courtesy of Eileen, and was actually really good. Everyone ate heartily, apart from Cas of course, who was having his weekly Angel Radio Heaven update with Gabriel in his room, and conversation was light.

"Gotta say, Sammy," I said, before shoveling another forkful of the peppers and chicken into my mouth. "Might be time to move her in if it means more of this."

Sam gave a crooked smile, turning and signing what I'd said to Eileen as I hadn't been facing her when I spoke. He was getting so much better at that; his movements were fluid, and I'd known how much he'd been practicing. I could hold basic conversation now, but Sam was damn near fluent.

Eileen laughed, turning to me. "Couldn't handle his snoring," she said in a deadpan tone, and Sam genuinely looked offended for a moment before he caught the joke within her teasing and grinned.

Sam's phone rang, muffled from his pocket, and he shifted in his chair to pull it out. "It's Garth," he said in surprise. He accepted the call and hit speaker before placing the phone on the table.

"Hey Garth, what's up?" he asked. "You're on speaker."

"Sam." Garth's usually upbeat voice was subdued. "Hey, man. Hey Dean."

"Hey Garth," I said hesitantly, glancing over at Sam at his tone.

Sam's brow furrowed as he returned my worried look. "You okay, buddy? Bess and the kids, are they okay?" He reached out as if to take the phone off of speaker if necessary.

"Oh, yeah, everyone's okay, we're all safe and everything," Garth assured him, and Sam's arm retreated in relief. "But you remember Nadine and Kay? Those Hunters who worked the Lamia case with us in Detroit?"

I smiled. I did remember them. The two women had been so obviously in love it was ridiculous, yet pretending otherwise seemed all they knew how to do. I hadn't admitted it to myself at the time, but there was a reason I'd bonded so quickly with Nadine; insisting she was straight and happy despite being about as convincing as a store Easter Bunny had struck a chord deep down.

I spoke up. "Yeah! I remember 'em, why?"

There was a long pause, then Garth sounded miserable on the other line. "Kay's dead, guys."

Jack dropped his fork, and it made a loud clang against the side of his plate as it hit. He'd never even met the pair of Hunters, but his fixation on human life and what happened when it ended was probably appropriate given his occupation.

It felt like rocks were in my stomach as I pushed my plate away.

"What happened?" Sam asked softly. He sighed, quickly signing to Eileen what Garth had said while he waited for a reply.

"Wraith hunt gone wrong, man. I guess it was pretty bad." His voice sounded choked.

"Is Nadine okay?" I asked flatly.

Garth cleared his throat. "Yeah, she's alive, if that's what you mean. Showed up at my door half hysterical though, scared Bess near to death. Saying she never even got to tell her the truth. Never had the chance to show her how much she loved her." He paused, and I heard him blow his nose.

Sam cleared his throat. "Give her our condolences, man," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I hate to hear that."

I looked down at the table. Kay had been a good woman, and a great Hunter. We'd only ever crossed paths the one time, but my heart hurt for Nadine.

"Yeah, thanks for letting us know, Garth," I frowned. His comment about how she'd never been able to show Kay her love unsettled me. I hoped she knew anyway, in those final moments. I prayed she knew.

"You're welcome, guys. I'll talk to you later, okay? Love you."

Sam half smiled at that. "Love you too, man," he said, ending the call.

My stir fry looked entirely unappetizing now as I stared down at it. Every hunt we went on, I was putting myself in the same position. Not being able to show Cas the extent of my feelings because of my own stupid fucking hang-ups. I couldn't imagine having to live with myself if he'd died ever doubting us.

"I'll have to see if I have Nadine's number later, give her a call," Sam sighed. He glanced over at. "You okay, Jack?" he asked. My eyes followed his to Jack's face. He looked entirely zoned out, but he snapped back to attention at his name with a soft serene smile.

"I'm alright. I just wanted a peek, you know? Her Heaven...it's beautiful." He said the words gently, and I knew he was doing his part, like he always did, to raise our spirits. Who wouldn't want to hear with certainty that someone they'd lost was in paradise?

Because I was selfish, however, my mind was elsewhere.

"Hey kiddo, do me a favor next time you're up there," I said abruptly. "Tell her that Nadine was in love with her, okay? You gotta tell her. It's important."

Jack looked old and wise beyond his years when he smiled at me. "Of course, Dean."

I nodded curtly at that and stood, picking up my plate of half-eaten stir fry. I cuffed Jack's shoulder as I left the room and took my dishes to the kitchen. I washed up in silence, then opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. I popped the top off of it before taking a quick swig and sitting it down hard on the counter. I thought about all of my close calls, and how I'd very nearly been taken from this world without Cas knowing how much I lov—cared for him. Hell, if I'd gone in that vampire mishap a few months back, or even from Marie, our last conversation would have likely taken place during our fight. I wasn't sure exactly how, but it felt like something had clicked after Garth's words, and I had to get there before I let myself pussy out. My destination was clear in my mind; my thoughts were focused and surprisingly calm, at least for the moment. I wasn't going to let the same thing happen to me that happened to Kay and Nadine. Cas and I were not going to ever end the way that those two Hunters had. We just weren't.

I walked down the hall quickly and purposefully, and didn't stop or slow until I was outside of his door. I took a breath and raised my fist to knock, but the heavy oak swung open before my fist could make contact. Cas was there, his eyes inquisitive. He tilted his head slightly.

"Dean—?"

I pushed him back inside wordlessly, pulling the door shut behind me a bit too hard, and, as if he sensed the urgency in my body language, he let me back him into his room without a fight.

My hand against his chest felt far too intimate in the little space between us once we were inside. I dropped it lamely, taking his hand in mine instead. Castiel's expression was solemn, but his eyes were wide as I clenched and unclenched my other fist at my side. The first stirrings of self-doubt and nausea had begun creeping up in my gut, and I gritted my teeth and swallowed in an attempt to push it down. Boys don't kiss boys, Dean. I shook my head once to clear it. I wanted this. I needed this.

Cas was silent, large blue eyes burning into mine as he watched me. With every exhale, I felt his warm breath against my face. It was dizzying, and while it didn't do much in the way of helping me clear my head, it blurred the lines in the way I needed.

I found it easier to speak when I wasn't looking directly at him. I fixed my eyes at a point on his shoulder instead, and I felt the gentle squeeze of my hand. "Cas," I said quietly. Despite barely being able to produce words, my voice was jarring in the otherwise silent room.

"Is everything alright?" he replied. There was a touch of concern in his voice.

"Mmhm," I managed. I stepped in closer, until I felt the toe of my boot bump his shoe.

Sudden understanding washed over Cas's face. "Oh," he replied softly. It was barely a breath. I watched the column of his throat slide down as he swallowed, then back up.

My eyes flickered to his lips as he ran his tongue between them quickly. Slightly chapped, full, his upper lip perhaps a bit too plump to perfectly match the lower. A dramatic Cupid's bow that extended into a near permanent downturned pout. The small indention under his lower lip that darkened into shadow against the ghost of stubble on his face. The dimple in his chin, seeming a near perfect place to crook my finger. I'd studied every detail of his appearance more times than I cared to admit, but very rarely from this proximity.

And never with this tenderness.

I took a deep breath, centering myself, and raised a slightly trembling hand to his face. Beneath the graze of barely surfaced hair, it was surprisingly soft. He was warm, as well, and I swiped my thumb gently over the swell of his cheek in marvel at the heat.

His eyes closed, a furrow in his brow like he was concentrating. He leaned slightly against my hand and I heard the shaky exhale through his nose. I looked up in surprise as the lights in the room began to buzz and flicker.

"Is that you?" I whispered incredulously.

Cas gave a small affirmative grunt, never opening his eyes.

I stopped in shock and pulled my hand from his cheek slightly. His eyes did open then, and he looked almost offended. Part of me was taken aback by the revelation that I wasn't the only one shitting my pant right now. I'd been so concerned with my own issues that I hadn't stopped to consider he would be nervous as well. Somehow, that made things easier. As sure as he seemed of himself all the time, watching him fritz the electricity over the fact that I wanted to kiss him was surreal.

While his breathing was uneven, his eyes were sure and free of doubt. He looked over at the lamp and radio accusingly, as if angry that they were blowing his cover. I gently took hold of his chin and pulled his gaze back to mine, the way I'd imagined so many times. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside of my throat, threatening to spill over my lips, at the fact that this was actually happening. I didn't have to imagine anymore. I exhaled sharply through my nose and swallowed it down. The last thing I needed was to ruin this by causing the guy to doubt my mental state. Without giving myself another second to think, I leaned in quickly, and I felt a gentle hand go to my waist.

The moment our lips met, every bulb in the room burst and we were plunged into immediate darkness. I jumped involuntarily at the loud sound, letting out a harsh breath as I blinked.

I felt Cas pull away with an embarrassed noise. "I'm sorry—"

"C'mere," I managed, blindly pulling his face back to mine. He was somewhat scratchy, a slight dry burn that scraped against my own mouth; but apart from that, with the way his lips were soft and pliant against my own, the unlit room concealed the worst of my sin. Our lips melded together as I held him, our noses colliding somewhat awkwardly in the dark. This was the first time since Lisa that I'd kissed someone without the intention of taking them to bed. It was the first time a kiss had been gentle and tentative, without the expectation of more from me or the smell of whiskey on breath. It was warm, and shy, and it was all Cas.

Castiel exhaled shakily as I slowly pulled back, and his hot breath on my face kept exact time with the whining radio static emitting from the ancient stereo on the dresser. It was rare that I was reminded just how much he truly was power incarnate.

"Dean," he finally whispered. His voice sounded raw. He raised his hand to my cheek, and I kissed his palm.

"That was a long time coming, yeah?" I whispered roughly, feeling the heat in my ears.

There was a beat of silence. "Can we…do that again?" he inquired into the darkness. I grinned in spite of myself. Well, if I was going to hell, I might as well enjoy the ride.

His taste was indescribable. Honey and cinnamon, and so many other things that I couldn't possibly name. I was instantly addicted. Energy pulsed between us as my hand found the back of his head, threading my fingers into his soft hair and deepening the kiss against my better judgment. I felt his lips part against mine, and just barely, I ran the tip of my tongue against his lower. He shuddered into the kiss, making a soft sound of contentment, and my brain registered two frantic pairs of footsteps nearing the door.

I pulled back quickly, panicked, and stumbled backwards away from him. I was aware of the pull of a thin strand of saliva connecting us for a split second before the warmth of Cas's body was gone and it separated, landing cold on my lip. Sam opened the door without knocking, holding a flashlight up and aiming a gun. "Cas? Have you seen Dean? The lights just shattered throughout half the bunker, I'm worried something's going on and I can't find him—" he paused as his flashlight scanned over me and into the corner where Cas had been. It was empty. "Dean?"

"Hiya, Sammy," I said lamely, wanting to sink into the floor. "Mind pointing that thing elsewhere?" Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck...

"What in the hell's going on? Where's Cas? The lights…?" Sam's expression was blank, and he hesitantly lowered his gun and left only the flashlight focused on me. His confused face would've been laughable if he hadn't just found me in Cas's bedroom with the door shut, probably sporting kiss swollen lips.

I shifted, crossing my arms self-consciously as the gears turned in my head. "It's fine. All good. It was Cas that blew them. We, uh. Had a fight."

Sam paused, and after a second let out a breath of relief. "Again? I thought things were better between you two. Some fight, man. What the hell happened?"

I was glad the narrow beam of light concealed most of my face. "Don't really wanna talk about it, Sammy," I said in annoyance. My stomach was still doing flips. "But everything's fine. Swear."

Sam looked at me in disbelief. "Cas just went avenging angel on the bunker and shattered all the bulbs on this floor, and you don't think that's worth talking about? I'm not good with that, Dean."

"Don't know what to tell you, dude, but I'm good," I replied. I felt his eyes on me and fought the urge to shrink back against his scrutinizing gaze.

Eileen peeked in at me from around the doorframe, then she signed something too quickly for me to catch and stared pointedly at Sam. He looked at her for a long moment, then back to me. I watched his shoulders slump.

"Fine," he said after a long pause. "But you're going to town for new bulbs."

"Fine," I shot back, but there was no real venom in my voice.

Sam kept looking at me for a moment longer, raising one eyebrow, before he sighed and both he and Eileen retreated back up the hall.

I waited about thirty more seconds to ensure they were gone before I let a wide grin spread across my face, and slowly, almost reverently, I touched my lips. I'd kissed Cas. I'd kissed him. The gravity of that fact began to sink in as I stood alone in the dark, and my smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. I'd kissed Cas. Trembling fingers still pressed to my lower lip, I felt the betraying hitch of breath in my throat; I was eternally grateful that Cas was gone when, despite fighting it with everything I had, my face crumpled and I began to cry.