Michael was panicking. He felt so drawn to Dean and let those stunning green eyes completely consume him and... Made him feel seen. He hadn't had that ever. Maybe a bit when he took over after Father left, when all the angels looked up to him for guidance, but he lost their trust along the way.

He always chased after what his Father wanted, what his Father told him to do, he never complained, never refused, never questioned. But he was so blind, he could see it now. He should have focused on his family and kept them safe, not allow them to be scattered around and killed in a civil war...

No point in dwelling over what could have been.

But there was no point in continuing this thing he had going on with Dean. No matter how much he wanted to. The hunter seemed so... lonely and it was clear he needed comfort and safety and just to be able to relax and breathe properly. Michael learned, back in the cage, he learned that this was their story, the Winchesters. That he was just a side character, thrown away and forgotten. And he was so angry, wanted revenge and to show he mattered too, but the cage broke that fight in him. Still, it showed him one important thing.

Being left alone to rot was better then the pain and suffering the main characters had to endure. What Dean had to endure.

And on some level, Michael felt like he owed him for having his hand in that suffering and pain.

The angel glanced a few times through the bedroom door, sometimes finding Dean glancing up and perking at the attention, other times finding him shyly and quickly looking away not be caught staring. Every time Michael almost ran away and it left a hollow feeling in his chest, he could almost say it hurt to walk away.

He should walk away, keep his distance and just help the hunter heal then let him be kn his way. He should.

But one glance at a sad slouched Dean just smashed all those thoughts, making him completely forget what he should do. Instead, it is rellaced by these feelings, this need to make the hunter smile, to see his eyes light up and to... Make him happy.

Is there even a point in fighting it?

There was one other thing. Dean still didn't know who Michael really was. And the angel didn't want to keep such a secret, but considering their past, this was easier for Dean. Easer to let him heal. Or so Michael told himself.

The truth was, he was getting attached. And he liked it. He liked it all. He liked the warmth of Dean's body next to him in bed at night. He liked the feel of his hand over Michael's. He liked Dean's soft skin under his fingers. And those eyes, how could they tell so much and at the same time hide plenty was beyond Michael.

And those plump pink lips... The way Dean would bite down on them or lick them with his tongue and make them shine, oh dear Heavens... He really wanted to learn if they were as soft and tender as they looked.

What would they taste like...

Taste...

Oh, jumping Jehoshaphat, breakfast!!!

Michael's eyes widened when he realized it was already noon and he still hadn't given Dean anything to eat. That hollow feeling in his chest intensified at the thought that Dean hadn't said a thing and that he would probably go hungry then intrude and ask... He was probably already thinking he was a burden and oh darn...

Michael had to make it up to him.

As minutes ticked by, Dean went from wondering why he didn't kiss the guy when he had a chance to second-guessing every little thing he said or did during his time here.

Especially now that Mike retreated and was staying away right after he found Dean snuggling next to him. Shit, he shouldn't have done that. He should bave let himself think that... That someone would be that interested in him. Not on that level.

Sex was one thing. If was just giving and receiving pleasure, purely physical, nothing emotional about it. Cuddling was... Intimate.

Dean really shouldn't have done that. But he just wanted to, so badly, he thought that maybe, just this once he could have what he wanted. Just for a little while...

Dean sighed and hung his head low. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it, used to being hungry for unforseen periods of time even now that Sam was old enough to feed himself. His body was just trained that way. When he looked up and focused on what was happening outside of the bedroom,he found the place too quiet and slumped down. Mike wasn't even in the cabin anymore.

Was he really that bad that everyone just thought best to leave him behind?

He was startled from his thoughts when Mike practically burst through the door and was by his side in a few short strides. He reached and set his hands on Dean's ribs, and Oh!, Jesus!, it felt so good to have those hands on his body again, but what was Mike doing? Did he... Did he want Dean to get up?

The man was smiling widely at him and Dean just got lost in his soft green eyes and the excitement they bore, before Mike nudged him and Dean hurriedly nodded, then started to move. The man's warm hands were on him, his strong arms supporting him and leading him out of the room and Dean just leaned and sort of cherished the feeling not sure if he was going to get this close to the man ever again.

They paused by the bathroom door and Mike raised a brow and pointed at it, asking Dean if he needed to use it. It wasn't urgent, but sinve he was up, he might aswell go, so he nodded and let Mike help him in. After he was done, he thought Mike would lead him back to the bed but instead they turned towards the front door.

Dean silently gasped at the thought that Mike could be throwing him out in nothing but his boxer briefs and a thin T-shirt, but he shook off that feeling immediately. No matter what, Mike was a good guy, and he would never do that. He would have at least given Dran his jacket.

Apparently, Mike had another thing in mind. Instead of his jacket, Mike dressed him in a thick fur coat which was super warm and he threw a big comforter over his other shoulder then lead Dean outside. It was cold, but not as much as Dean expected, but what really drew Dean's attention was the thin layer of snow that covered everything around them.

It must have started falling during the night, just long enough to cover the ground and make everything look so magical. Dean could only imagine how beautiful it would look in the evening as the sun set over the horizon and cast that illusion of a warm orange glow.

Mike nudged him, and then they turned torwards the porch and Dean sucked in a breath, his eyes widening in awe. There, set on a small table was a big pile of fried bacon, and two steamy plates of scrambled eggs, orange juice and coffee and it looked just... Perfect.

Mike helped him to the nearest seat, then tucked the comforter all around Dean's lower body, making sure everything was covered and there would be no way Dean was cold. He stepped inside to get himself a coat too, something a little bit thinner then what Dean had on, probably because the only warm one he had was currently being used by Dean. He rounded the table, set opposite of Dean, smiled at him then motioned with his head for Dean to start eating so it doesn't get cold.

Dean has been on a million dates thus far, but none could compare to this one. Not a singe one.