Since Castiel is living in the bunker full-time now, Dean is making it his mission to show Castiel all of his favorite movies. Castiel doesn't mind, but he is concerned he is taking away Dean's time. Castiel hasn't seen Heather in a while, and whenever Eileen and Sam bring up hanging out with her again, Dean says something dismissive. Castiel's fears of hindering Dean's life are coming true.

Castiel is reading in the Dean Cave when Dean finds him. Dean flops beside him on the couch hard enough to interrupt Castiel's reading. Castiel stares up in exasperation, and Dean is grinning mischievously back.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Wanna watch a movie?"

Castiel returns his attention to his book and pretends to read. "Why don't you ask Heather this time? We've seen plenty."

Dean is silent for a moment. "We broke up."

Castiel jerks his head back up. Oh, no. This isn't his fault, is it? Castiel hopes that Dean hadn't been taking too much time with him that he pushed Heather away. "Oh, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean shrugs. "Yeah, it's fine. It just wasn't working out, so, you know."

"It wasn't…because of me, right?"

Dean's eyes widen, and his entire body stiffens. "Uh, what?"

"I know you've been spending a lot of time with me since my injury. You know you can still spend time with her, Dean. You don't have to be by my side every day."

Dean relaxes. "No, dude, it's not that at all. We broke up before that."

Castiel frowns in confusion. "You…did?"

"Yeah. We're still friends and hang out sometimes. She's a great Hunter too, so I don't mind inviting her on Hunts, but we haven't been together for a while."

"Oh." Castiel doesn't know what to think.

"So, uh, do you want to watch a movie? Or did that kill the mood?"

Castiel smiles. "I'd love to watch a movie."

"How did you find me?" Castiel asks when Dean returns with a few DVDs.

"Huh?" Dean asks as he walks over to the DVD player.

"When I went to Heaven's gate. How did you find me?"

"I tracked your phone," Dean replies casually as he puts a DVD inside the player.

Castiel frowns. "Why?"

Dean turns around and shrugs. "I dunno. I just had a weird feeling about you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Dean says as he sits next to Castiel. Their legs are touching. "I get that way with Sam too. I get this weird like, not nausea, but heaviness in the pit of my stomach when something is wrong with you guys or one of you is in danger. I don't really know how to describe it. Or why I feel it."

Castiel is staring at him now. "That's interesting."

Dean chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess." He turns his attention to the television. "Anyway, I stole Sam's Harry Potter DVDs, so we can watch some since you haven't technically watched any of the movies."

"Does Sam know about this?"

"Nope." Dean looks back at Castiel with a pointed look. "And he won't know."

Castiel rolls his eyes, but he's smiling.

"Cas."

Castiel doesn't remember falling asleep, but Dean is waking him up. He blinks a few times, his eyes slowly focusing on Dean.

And Dean is staring at him with this…look. It's open and soft, and Dean has this tender smile on his lips Castiel rarely sees. It's startling, and Castiel can't help but stare back.

Dean's smile grows. "Hey."

"I fell asleep," Castiel states stupidly.

Amusement lights in Dean's eyes, and he shifts closer. "Yeah. It was kinda cute."

Castiel is not cute. But his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, and his heart does all sorts of acrobatics within his chest at the idea of Dean calling him cute. Dean is very close now, and it's as if every cell in Castiel's body is aware of it, and he can feel Dean's body heat in striking intensity. Their legs are still touching, and everything inside Castiel is screaming for more.

Whenever this happened when Castiel was an angel, he would summon his grace to tamper his feelings down. Dean had always been able to overwhelm him, but he at least had a way to manage it. Now he doesn't, and he has no clue how to deal with this.

Dean must see this and frowns. "You okay?"

Castiel is not okay, and he begins to panic. "Yes," he lies.

Dean's frown deepens.

Foolishly, Castiel continues, "I'm a bit overwhelmed."

"With what?"

His mouth is saying things his brain is barely processing. "Uh, you—we're very close."

"We are," Dean says coolly. "Is it bothering you?"

"No," Castiel answers the second Dean finishes speaking.

Dean raises his eyebrows, and he looks…surprised.

As if this should be a surprise. Castiel has always enjoyed Dean's presence, and he hasn't exactly kept it a secret. Sometimes Castiel whips himself up into thinking Dean knows about his feelings for him because of this.

Dean licks his lips, and Castiel is instantly drawn to the movement. He realizes he's staring at Dean's lips and looks back up. Dean is watching. Castiel blushes furiously.

Dean did that on purpose.

Dean leans in the slightest bit closer. "Cas…"

Sam bursts into the room. "Dean!"

Dean jerks back from Castiel like he's been slapped.

Sam continues, "Did you steal my DVDs?"

What the hell was that? Castiel asks himself for the millionth time that night.

He's lying in bed now, replaying today's events in his head. The soft way Dean had been smiling at him. Their extremely close proximity. Dean calling him cute. Dean's lips. The gentle way Dean had said his name before Sam came into the room.

Had Dean meant to lick his lips like that? And if he did, had he wanted to kiss Castiel? Does Dean still want to kiss him? And if he does, does he want to kiss Castiel because he's horny, or because he…?

Castiel stops that thought. He can't go there. He can't give himself false hope.

But the way Dean had leaned in…

Castiel groans and grabs his pillow, pulling it over his face. Maybe this will block his thoughts.

It works for maybe three seconds before the image of Dean's lips fills his mind.

Castiel throws his pillow across the room and painfully sits up. He's been more mindful of his stitches since the Hunt, but he can't sleep. Not tonight. He runs his hands through his hair but is only reminded of when Dean did it before he stitched Castiel up after the Hunt.

Castiel sighs in annoyance. Falling in love is so inconvenient.

Perhaps some tea will calm him down.

He steps out of bed and shuffles across the room. He opens his door and heads for the kitchen but freezes when he gets there.

Dean is sitting in the kitchen in front of an open laptop drinking a glass of whiskey. They lock eyes.

"Hey," Dean greets before turning his attention back to his laptop.

"Hello," Castiel answers and heads towards the tea.

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

"Afraid not."

The silence is deafening.

Castiel plugs in the electric kettle and turns it on. He grabs a bag of tea out of the box then he opens the cabinet with the mugs and winces as it squeaks. He grabs the mug the Winchesters never use and sets it on the counter, placing the teabag inside.

Without looking up from his laptop, Dean asks, "How are ya feelin'?"

Castiel turns to face him and shrugs. He absently places a hand over his wound. "Fine."

"Yeah?" Dean glances over at Castiel, and his gaze flicks over him as if he doesn't believe him.

"Yeah," Castiel repeats.

"Good. That's good." Dean grimaces then takes a long sip of whiskey.

"How are you feeling?" Castiel asks.

"Fine."

Castiel rolls his eyes. Someone who feels fine isn't drinking whiskey at 3:30am. So he says, "Yeah?" just like Dean did a few seconds ago.

"Ye—" Dean begins then realizes it's the same exact conversation as before. He looks back at Castiel.

Castiel raises his eyebrows, and Dean smiles the slightest bit. It makes Castiel feel a little better.

Dean shakes his head, but his smile doesn't waver. "You're a dork."

Castiel knows what a dork is but pretends he doesn't. "Thank you."

Dean's smile grows, and he rolls his eyes.

The kettle chimes, signaling the water is ready. Castiel pours it into his mug and walks over to Dean. He sits beside him, wrapping his hands around the mug. Castiel finds the heat comforting.

"Looking for a Hunt?" Castiel asks.

"Yeah." Dean doesn't look at him and takes another sip of whiskey.

Castiel sighs. "Dean, what's wrong?"

Dean lazily scrolls through a news article. "Nothing."

Castiel stares at him, hoping to make him uncomfortable enough to meet his gaze.

Dean continues to scroll before huffing. He turns. "What?"

"Something's wrong." It's not a question this time.

Dean rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his laptop. He clicks on another article and starts scrolling again. Eventually, he says, "Did I fuck things up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Between us. Did I fuck things up between us?"

"How could you do that?"

Dean turns to him fully this time. He studies Castiel. For a moment, he's open. Searching Castiel for something. Castiel isn't sure what. He must find it—or not—because Castiel can see the moment Dean's walls come back up. "Never mind."

"Dean."

"I said never mind!"

Castiel glares. Still holding his mug, he stands up. His chair scrapes loudly. "Goodnight."

He quickly walks back to his room and closes the door too loudly. He places his tea on his nightstand and gets into bed. He cries.

Of course Sam isn't here.

Castiel thinks it's time to remove some of his stitches, but he can't do it. He Googled "when do you know it's time to remove stitches?", and he's pretty sure it's time. He even looked up videos on how to do it, but after removing the first three and making himself bleed—not like in the videos at all—he realized he needs help.

But Sam is gone. Which means he needs to ask Dean.

Things have been cold between them. Castiel isn't quite sure what happened that night he went to make tea, but now they hardly talk. Sam even asked what they're fighting about. Dean had immediately said, "Nothing." Castiel is just confused. And angry at Dean for being childish, so Castiel doesn't mind being petty right back. And maybe that's the problem.

Castiel stares at himself in the mirror. His hair is unkempt, and there are bags under his eyes. He can tell he's lost weight, and blood is running down his abdomen where he's messed up removing his stitches. He's a mess. He hates that he's human. He can't do anything by himself.

With a frustrated huff, he grabs the first-aid kit and stomps over to Dean's room. He doesn't even knock before opening the door. If he sees something unseemly, he hopes Dean gets embarrassed.

Dean is laying on his bed with his headphones in but jolts up the second Castiel bursts in. Dean snatches the headphones off his head, his eyes snapping to Castiel's stomach.

"Take out my stitches," Castiel demands, because it's easier than asking.

Dean glares. "What if I don't."

Castiel glares back. "Then I will rip them all out."

They continue to glare at each other, but the longer they do, the more exposed Castiel feels. He's standing shirtless in Dean's room, his wound—his biggest weakness—out on display. He remembers how he looked in the mirror just seconds before and knows that's what Dean is seeing. He's pathetic.

Castiel can feel tears coming, and Dean cannot see him cry. Without warning, he turns and heads back to his room. He angrily slams the first-aid kit onto his sink. He pops it open and grabs the tweezers. He glares down at his stitches. He sees a longer one and lines up the tweezers.

A hand snatches them away.

Dean grabs Castiel's shoulder, spinning him, so his lower back digs into the sink. Castiel aims a glare Dean's way. He can't manhandle him like this! But Dean sinks to his knees, and Castiel's brain short-circuits and only comes back online when Dean pulls the first stitch out.

Dean doesn't say a word as he works. His face is still rigid, and anger lingers in his eyes, but his hands are steady and gentle. He doesn't make Castiel bleed.

Guilt settles into Castiel's stomach. He shouldn't have been so petulant, demanding Dean take care of him like a helpless child. Castiel is a grown man—older than all men—and he should be able to take care of himself. But he can't. Castiel attempts to swallow down the frustrated lump that's grown in his throat. It doesn't really work.

There's a more intricate stitch, and Dean bites his lower lip in concentration. Fondness swells in Castiel's chest, and he has to look away.

He glares at the wall. Being in love with Dean Winchester is the worst thing ever.

But Castiel wouldn't trade it for anything.

Dean shifts below him, and Castiel looks back down. Dean's moved in a bit closer, studying the remaining stitches intently. His left hand rests on Castiel's abdomen just above his jeans. His hand is warm and smooth. Dean's other hand lightly traces over Castiel's stitches. Arousal strikes through Castiel like lightning, and he immediately fixes his gaze back at the wall. He cannot allow himself to feel this. Not now. Not when Dean is right there.

As an angel, squashing baser urges such as lust was easy. His grace could wash it away with a cool, light feeling, until the urge was nothing more than a small itch. But now, Castiel can't stop it. He can't stop how badly he wants Dean.

As a human, Castiel has been able to manage his desires how most humans do: masturbation. Thinking about Dean usually does the trick. He often wonders how the Hunter's hands would feel. Now he knows how warm and firm they really are. Castiel thinks about Dean's lips often too. How they'd taste. How'd they feel kissing and sucking on other parts of his body. He wonders if Dean likes things fast or slow. He's thought about both when—

Dean pulls another stitch out.

Shit, shit, shit!

Castiel's heart is pounding. How could he allow himself to go down that path of thinking? It's too late now. The lust is hot and burning within him. And Dean's going to know soon. Very soon.

Castiel snatches both of Dean's wrists and yanks them off of him.

Dean looks up in alarm and opens his mouth to say something, but Castiel speaks first, "I can do the rest." He can hear the rising panic in his own voice, but forces the coolest gaze he can down at Dean. His heart is racing wildly.

"What?" Dean looks completely confused. He glances back at Castiel's stomach, still only a few inches away from his face, bringing another wave of desire crashing through Castiel. "I'm almost done."

"No. I'll do them."

"Cas, are you okay?"

Dean needs to leave. Now. Castiel glares. "Do I need to repeat myself? Goodbye, Dean." He continues to glare, hoping Dean gets the message.

Dean stands up and returns Castiel's glare. "I don't know why you're being like this! You asked me for help."

Castiel doesn't have a good response, so he continues to glare silently.

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Unbelievable," he mutters as he storms out of the room. He slams the door on the way out.

Castiel breathes out a shaky breath in relief and presses his palms into his eyes. That was close. Way too close. He needs to get it together. He takes a few more breaths to collect himself before scowling down at his crotch. That thing really does have a mind of its own. Dean left just in time.

Castiel decides to take care of it right away, and it's the fastest he's ever orgasmed.