Castiel had a lot to contemplate - though this wasn't a rare feat.
Sam and Dean had gone out to celebrate, along with Michael, Adam and Lucifer (and honestly, Castiel genuinely never thought he'd see the day), which left him alone in the bunker with Jack. No objections there, of course; the day before had been hectic, the entire year had been hectic, so it was rather nice to just be able to sit down with the Nephilim, his son, and just… talk. They talked about little things, while Jack dug into a bowl of Cookie Crunch. He listened to the boy spout on and on about his adventures with Jesse, smiling slightly at the excitement flickering behind Jack's baby blue eyes and the smile that lit his face when he spoke of the Cambion. An odd duo for sure, but Castiel could see the bond they shared. A… profound bond, if you would. Jack's fondness for Jesse didn't go unseen, not by Castiel. He wasn't that oblivious, not really.
Regardless, he bit his tongue. He knew as well as anyone that that conversation should come up on its own, and be initiated by Jack and no one else. When it did come, he would be ready.
Jack went silent after a moment, picking at his cereal. He'd been telling Castiel about the wonders of Australia, fondly relaying stories of the people they'd met when Jesse had taken him out to a diner for some sort of 'birthday dinner'. The angel watched his son for a moment, seeing the gears turning in his head as he picked at his cereal with his spoon, scooping up some of it and then letting it plop back into the bowl. "I like Jesse," the Nephilim finally spoke.
Castiel smiled to himself. That wasn't a very long wait. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Jack paused, lifting his head. "I mean, he's cool. And funny. And… nice." He paused again, and Castiel nodded slightly as he met the boy's gaze, silently encouraging him to go on. He didn't really know much about the beginning of Jack's life. What kinds of things he'd been exposed to, learned about. He'd read a few parenting books, something he wouldn't admit to anybody unless he was being tortured for such information, he'd learned about parents and their struggles with their children regarding sexuality, sexual orientation. He hoped that wouldn't be a problem for Jack; he never understood the stigma that surrounded sexuality, things like homosexuality, bisexuality. He'd never even understood why there needed to be a whole other category, several other categories, entirely different words that all meant the same thing; love. Honestly, the fact that he was scared of it being a problem just made it even more of a problem. Humans were such complex creatures, he didn't think he'd ever be able to understand them, but he knew one thing he hated about humanity was how oppressive and judgmental they could be.
Angels fared no better, of course. But it wasn't like Heaven separated them into different groups judged by… the colors of the feathers on their wings. Yet, Castiel mused as he thought over the many, many times he'd been taunted and berated for his attachment to humanity - to the Winchesters - they did have their faults, faults that, at times, made them as bad as the humans. Discrimination was not limited to humanity. Discrimination came in the simplest of ways, only truly noticed, Castiel knew, by the victims of such. He would never understand how humans could hurt their own in such ways, drag them and beat them and punish them for simply being.
Castiel breathed in to steady himself and sighed, forcing himself to focus again. He could lose himself in all the thoughts and questions he had about humanity, all the things he wanted answers for but knew he'd probably never receive. But he wasn't going to go there, not tonight.
Jack looked troubled now, as he swirled his cereal around. Castiel noticed he hadn't had a spoonful in the while; it was starting to get soggy, soaking up all the milk. But when he opened his mouth to say this, Jack finally spoke, with his eyes trained intently on the bowl. "You know," he began, and Castiel's heart stuttered to a brief stop. His voice was quiet, soft, contemplative. Too mature, and too thoughtful; something big was coming and Castiel could sense it, but he wasn't sure if he'd be prepared for whatever came next. "I still can't believe… Lucifer did that."
Castiel blinked, and widened his eyes slightly. They were on a completely different subject now, so quickly the angel wasn't sure whether he was confused or relieved. In a way he found himself almost disappointed, but he shoved that down for the time being. There'd be plenty of time to talk to Jack about that particular subject another time. "I know," he replied, an honest agreement. He was still baffled by it, still shocked. Not that Lucifer had the ability to do something so utterly, completely selfless for selfless reasons, but just… just because he did it. Just because he'd come to the conclusion that the world would be a better place if he did, that Jack and Castiel and all of them would be better off for it. He'd never taken it into consideration, Lucifer's guilt. He remembered the talk he'd had with him in the Empty, Lucifer admitting that he knew he still wasn't completely innocent, admitting that he wished he could pretend he was. But until that moment, the moment Lucifer told him what he'd done and why, it had never hit him.
Many things had happened to Castiel in the span of a few short seconds after Lucifer had dropped that bombshell on him, many emotions had come and gone before he could register them completely, but he'd surprised himself, even, with the protectiveness that had flared up. He'd grown to see Lucifer as a brother, genuinely, grown attached in a way he didn't think he was capable of. It had shocked him, it still shocked him, those feelings that had blossomed.
Steadying himself again, the angel shook his head and added, "of course, I get why he did it. His reasons for it, I mean," he added somewhat distractedly, and Jack's eyebrows lifted slightly. "He told me - well, me and Gabriel, back at the playground." Castiel paused, lightly picking at the label on the water he wasn't really drinking, and twisted his mouth into a frown for a second.
"Do you think he really did it because…" Jack knit his eyebrows together.
Castiel exhaled, long and slow. "I think… there'd be no reason to lie about it," he finally answered. "I think sacrificing himself would have done nothing to benefit him. He couldn't have known that he'd be able to survive in the end, not without some kind of consequence. I think it was a genuine self-sacrifice, and whatever the reason, I believe it was… selfless, on his part." The angel fell silent for a moment, and Jack glanced down again, contemplating that. "At least, as selfless as one can be in that situation. He was willing to sacrifice himself in my place, so that, as he puts it…" He gestured toward the Nephilim. "You would have a… 'decent' father figure in your life, and… I don't know. Maybe that wasn't the real reason. Maybe he just…"
Jack's voice was small. "Wanted to die?" He didn't sound or look like he really wanted the answer to that, and Castiel found his mouth running dry as he struggled to respond to that. He didn't know how to answer, he didn't know how he could possibly begin coming up with an answer to that question - and he honestly didn't know if he wanted to know the honest answer. Believing Lucifer's reason for it was somehow easier than coming to terms with that, but it was even harder to let the notion go now, thinking back on how the Devil had acted, the things he'd said and done and how he'd behaved, and now he couldn't help but wonder if Lucifer had…
He wished he didn't care, wondered if he'd feel worse if he didn't.
"I wish I didn't care so much," Jack whispered, echoing his thoughts. The angel furrowed his eyebrows slightly and looked up, gazing at his son. "I was angry, but I don't… want him to die."
"You do have to consider, Lucifer… he…" Castiel huffed a little despite himself, amazed by the turn this conversation had taken. The battle with God was over, but it seemed like they all had their own personal issues to sort out - though Castiel shouldn't be surprised about that. That was a part of life, especially now that the things they were figuring out really were personal. Now they had to learn and grow together on their own, controlling their own stories, free from Chuck.
Castiel frowned and shook his head, continuing, "the things he did - as he puts it, I suppose, he's not completely innocent. But he could have been, if not for Chuck." He scowled, unable to help himself, as he said the name, and Jack's expression shifted a little himself. Not bitter, not really angry, but the look on his face certainly didn't scream fondness. "Make no mistake, Lucifer was a villain, but not of his own free will. That was simply the role Chuck had forced him into." Castiel paused, looking down to pick at the label again. If someone had told him years ago that he'd be sitting here, defending Lucifer to Jack, he probably would have smited them on the spot. "He did a lot of bad things. It'd be hard, even for him, probably, to discern which were his own doing and which were Chuck's influence. But I do know-" He drew in a breath to prepare himself for what he was about to say, something he never thought he'd say in his entire life, something he couldn't believe he was saying now, "-for sure, he deserves a chance to redeem himself."
Jack let out a quiet hum, and Castiel was oddly relieved to detect a note of agreement. "I know the things he did weren't… him. I want to give him another chance," the Nephilim added, a determined expression crossing his face, and Castiel couldn't help but smile despite himself.
"I think you should." Castiel added, after a second thought, "I think we all should."
The topic shifted a few more times after that; Castiel was amused when it landed back on Jesse, but he listened to his son describing the Cambion's penthouse intently as Jack finally finished off the rest of his cereal. He only decided it was time to end the conversation when his son suddenly yawned mid-sentence; it surprised him for a moment, but not very much. He couldn't help but wonder if Jack had even slept after everything, or if he and Jesse had just spent the rest of the day partying and celebrating. Regardless, the Nephilim needed to rest.
"Sounds like bedtime to me," the angel commented, lips twitching as Jack yawned again almost immediately. The Nephilim looked about ready to protest, but then he made a face and sighed.
"I can't believe they're not back yet," his son admitted, raising his eyebrows slightly as he slid out of his seat and scooped his empty bowl up to put it away. Castiel watched him trudge over to the sink, rubbing his eyes with his free hand the whole way, then glanced around to check the time. Actually, the Nephilim raised a fairly good point; Castiel had to stifle a pang of worry despite himself, pushing his concern down for the time being. He'd give them an hour to return before he completely flipped his shit and went out looking for them - he did take comfort in the fact that he could still sense Michael and Lucifer's presence. As long as they were together…
He shook his head to clear it and stood up as Jack rinsed his bowl out and wandered back over to him, rubbing his eyes again. "Don't worry. I'll make sure they know not to stay out past midnight again," he promised his son, only half-joking, and the Nephilim huffed out a quiet laugh. Then he reached over to hug Castiel, and the angel wrapped his arms around the boy in return, offering a light squeeze and taking a deep breath before he pulled back. "Goodnight."
"'Night." Jack smiled sleepily at him, then turned and left the kitchen.
Castiel let himself fall back on weak legs, sinking back into his chair, and waited.
It was only half an hour later when he heard the door open, the sound of drunken laughter reaching his ears from the other room. Despite himself, he winced; he hoped Jack had at least shut his door, he didn't want to have to kill his brothers for waking the Nephilim up tonight.
After a moment, he stood and made his way into the main room, watching them stumble down the stairs one by one. Lucifer was first, and then Michael and Adam followed with Sam and Dean in tow. Lucifer offered Castiel a bright smile the moment he saw the angel, and made a direct beeline over to him with such abruptness that Castiel almost thought he would hug him. He tried not to sigh in relief too audibly when Lucifer paused only a few feet away, with that lopsided, intoxicated smile on his face. Castiel knew a smile of drunken stupidity when he saw one - come on, his best friend was Dean Winchester - and he couldn't help but feel oddly amused by the fact that Lucifer was… drunk. His older brother, drunk off his ass. And Michael and Adam didn't seem to be in any better condition, as they staggered over to the other two.
"Hi," Lucifer greeted, smiling with absolute innocence, "I'm shitfaced."
Behind him, Michael snorted out a laugh - or it could have been Adam, Castiel wasn't sure. They were too drunk at the moment for Castiel to be able to tell the difference - hell, it was hard enough to do that when the two of them were sober, but Castiel liked to think he'd gotten good at picking them apart for the most part. Regardless, one of them laughed, then said, "us too!"
"I can see that." Castiel glanced past them, toward Sam and - more importantly - Dean.
"And now the shitfaced little angels and demon are going to bed," Dean declared. He looked amused, and not at all as drunk as Michael, Adam and Lucifer were - which actually brought a brief smile to Castiel's lips. They go to a bar, and his brothers and Adam come back more wasted than Dean. The humor, for once, isn't lost on the angel. He can't help but chuckle, while Lucifer, Michael and Adam don't waste any time at all voicing their protests, but Dean cut them off by raising a hand and shaking his head. "No, no, no, I don't wanna hear it. You're all trashed, it's bedtime, Sam if you would please shove them off into their rooms and lock the doors…"
"The rooms lock on the inside," Lucifer objected, still whining as the younger hunter took his and Michael and Adam's arms and steered them down the hallway. "But Sammyyyy… c'monnnn…"
"Goodnight Castiel!" Now, that was Michael, the archangel knew. "'Night everybody! Goodnight!"
"Goodnight," Dean called after them, huffing out a quiet laugh. Castiel offered an amused glance in his direction, then turned his head to glance after the others as they disappeared into the hall. "Two archangels, a demon and two hunters walk into a bar," Dean commented suddenly, under his breath, as soon as they were gone, and Castiel glanced back at him, arching an eyebrow. "Sounds like the pick-up to some weird joke." The hunter chuckled, and Castiel smiled slightly. "Pretty sure they had fun. They ended up singing karaoke, which apparently we're making a tradition, so that'll be…" He didn't finish, rolling his eyes, and stepped past Castiel to head for the kitchen. After a moment of contemplation, the angel turned and headed inside after him.
"Jack sleeping?" The hunter asked as Castiel entered, opening one of the fridges. The angel was somewhat surprised when he pulled out a bottle of water instead of a beer, but kept quiet. He nodded slightly as he crossed the room, venturing back over to the table and sitting down.
"He went to bed about a half hour ago." Castiel sat down, glancing back up at Dean. The hunter just nodded, unscrewing the cap and making his way over to sit down across from him, and Castiel watched as he tilted the bottle up to his lips and downed half of it all at once, dropping the cap into the table for the time being and stretching one arm out in front of him with a tired sigh after he'd swallowed. He kept the water in his hand, and Castiel gazed at it for a moment as he twirled his own around in his hands, still having yet to even take a sip - to even open it.
He brought his eyes back up to Dean's face after a second, as the hunter ran his thumb around the mouth of the bottle in a narrow circle and studied the table in front of him, silent, thoughtful. Not for the first time, Castiel wished he could know what was going on inside his head. He knew a lot more about the hunter than Dean would probably be comfortable with, but sometimes in the present moment it was hard to figure out what he was thinking, what gears were turning behind those forest green eyes. But he liked studying Dean's face while he was lost in thought, watching his eyebrows furrow and his lips pucker - though he tried not to let his gaze linger on those, in particular, for too long. Especially not the way they glistened now, even in the dim kitchen lights, from the water he'd just drank. He wished he knew what he was thinking, but he didn't dare ask. If Dean wanted to tell him, he would tell him - at least, Castiel hoped so.
Finally, Dean heaved out a quiet sigh and brought the water up to his lips, downing the rest of it and crumpling the bottle up in his hand. "Well," he began, clearing his throat with a cough as he set the bottle back down and leaned forward, crossing both arms over the table now. "It's over." He ran his tongue over his lips, and Castiel let his gaze trail downwards briefly before he looked back up to meet Dean's gaze again, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head at the hunter. "... it's almost too good to be true," the hunter admitted after a moment. "Like, I'm just waiting…"
"For the other shoe to drop," Castiel finished knowingly, a bitter smile crossing his face briefly. As seemed to be a horrible, twisted tradition for the Winchesters. "Well, there's still work to be done. It's over with Chuck, but there's still…" He trailed off, because they both knew he didn't need to continue that sentence. "But for now, maybe, it'd be best to just… celebrate. Take a break. You've earned it," he added, raising his eyebrows toward the hunter. Dean snorted at that, lifting a hand to drag it down across his face, and heaved out a quiet sigh as he sank forward and rested his chin in his hand, his elbow propped up on the table. Castiel watched him for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows again. "Everyone's earned it," he added knowingly. Dean merely grunted in response. "We won, Dean. That's an important thing. We should enjoy it."
Dean glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a second. Blue against green, that beautiful green that Castiel knew he could lose himself in for hours if he let himself. For that moment and that moment alone, he was more than happy to; he stared for as long as Dean did, watching those eyes flicker back and forth as the hunter searched his gaze. He didn't know what he was looking for, what silent question he was asking. But he must have answered it, because after a moment, the hunter's lips twitched, tugging upwards into a tired looking, but genuine smile. "Yeah." A few seconds of silence passed; Castiel managed a faint smile despite himself, and it widened even further when Dean suddenly laughed - a warm, genuine sound that never ceased to make the angel's stomach clench, and his heart flutter. "Man, you know, it's still hard to believe we went all the way from 'demons aren't really our gig' to fighting God himself." Dean shook his head and leaned down a little, pressing his hand to his forehead and dragging it down slowly. "It's crazy."
Castiel couldn't help but feel somewhat amused by the irony, himself. "You went from not even believing that angels, and Heaven, and God were real at all to fighting God himself," he commented, and Dean lifted his head again, raising his eyebrows at the angel with a grin. "But just like everything else you've faced, Dean, you did it. This is just another battle won." The angel shifted and leaned forward, crossing his arms over the table with his hands still clasped firmly around the bottle. "Of course, if there was anybody fit to fight this kind of battle…"
Dean snorted. "It's us. I know."
"You," Castiel corrected, smiling slightly. "I was going to say it's you."
Dean finally paused; Castiel could see the gears working in his head now, this time churning doubletime trying to keep up with what the angel had just said to him. An odd wariness crossed his face, one that Castiel wasn't unfamiliar with. "Wasn't just me, Cas. I didn't even do much."
"You did a lot," Castiel replied steadily, studying the intensity blazing in those green eyes now. "Maybe you didn't land the finishing blow, but what you did do was everything. You let Michael in, despite your past experiences, for instance. You took charge when all of us - even me - were blinded by… rage, and grief, and hatred. You saw sense in the situation with Lucifer and Jack, you kept a level head through the whole thing, you marched into Heaven alongside a group of angels and demons and witches to fight against God, and you did all of it without hesitating once. You were brave. You were more than that - you were everything I knew you would be when I pulled you out of Hell, the righteous, selfless man that I fell-" He stopped himself, just barely caught himself in time, and continued with barely a pause, "-from Heaven itself for."
He watched Dean's jaw tense, his throat ripple as he swallowed. He crushed the bottle a little tighter in his hands, but he didn't move his gaze from Castiel's this time. "I did what I had to," he finally replied, clearing his throat. "The thing with Michael- I did what I had to for my brother. And I made the right call." His expression softened, if only slightly, as he finally ripped his gaze away from Castiel's to look toward the doorway. Then he took a deep breath to steel himself, and turned his gaze back to the angel, who, to his credit, hadn't let his gaze trail away from the hunter's face just yet. "The Lucifer thing, we had a common enemy. And fighting God was just a given." He quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't do anything Sam wouldn't have done. Or didn't do, for that matter. I did what I had to do because it was the right thing to do," he finished. "That's it."
"That's not it," Castiel replied evenly, smiling slightly despite himself. "I know…" He stopped for a moment, stopped to consider what he was about to say, stopped to really think about this - but he dove in anyway, because he knew he needed to. Because, after everything, Dean deserved to hear it. He deserved to hear it all.
"I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're 'destructive' and you're 'angry' and you're 'broken'. You're…" Castiel trailed off for a moment, watching Dean's expression shift. He didn't know what to make of the emotions that crossed Dean's face, but he didn't give himself time to register them completely yet. "You're 'Daddy's blunt instrument'." He stopped this time to let his words really sink in, and Dean jerked his head back in surprise as Castiel echoed the words he'd heard when he was searching through Dean's mind, the venom he'd heard the hunter spitting at himself, the hateful words.
A myriad of emotions crossed Dean's face, uncertainty and wariness and confusion. "Cas?"
"I know," Castiel insisted. He let the bottle go, finally, and brought his arms around it instead to clasp his hands together over the table. "You think that all that hate and anger, that's what drives you. That that's who you are. But it isn't. I see it. Sam sees it. Everyone who knows you sees it." He held Dean's gaze, and the hunter stared at him, nothing but bewilderment on his face.
"That's…" The hunter fell silent for a moment, running his tongue over his lips. Then he looked away, averting his gaze down to the crushed bottle in his hands. He didn't say anything else.
Castiel bit his tongue for a moment, teetering on the edge of doubt and uncertainty. He knew what he wanted to say; all of this, all these words, they came so naturally because they'd been piling up for years upon years, waiting for the day he'd finally be able to spit them out. Every time he tried, he found himself unable to. He found himself unable to open his mouth and speak, and he wasn't sure why, he didn't know why it was so hard to tell Dean how he felt about him, what he thought about him. But right then, he found himself desperate. Desperate to make Dean see himself the way Castiel saw him, if only for a moment. "Everything you have ever done," he finally continued, slow and steady, "the good and the bad, you have done for love."
Dean's gaze snapped back up to him, and held steady this time.
"You raised your little brother for love," Castiel continued, looking up at him again. "You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth," he insisted. Dean didn't say anything; Castiel could see his jaw tense again, an emotion Castiel couldn't quite place smoldering his green gaze. They burned like embers, all too suddenly, an emerald glitter of pain and rage, and the angel stopped with his mouth open, unable to go on.
"Shut up," Dean finally spoke when he found his voice. His tone was devoid of anger, but his expression betrayed it all. Castiel was somewhat taken aback by the fury he was displaying, the rage flickering behind his green eyes, but he didn't let himself show it. "God, Cas, you know, y-" The hunter paused, breathing in through his teeth. "You make this harder than it needs to be."
Castiel furrowed his eyebrows at that, not understanding, and tilted his head. "Make what…?"
"This," Dean insisted. He stopped to suck in a sharp burst of air before continuing, "you. Everything. I mean- I mean, it's hard enough, you know, I know you don't… understand…" A frustrated growl broke through the hunter's lips, the sound leaving clenched teeth as Dean ducked his head and screwed his eyes shut seemingly as tight as he could manage to. Castiel continued to stare for a moment, and his confusion about the situation likely wasn't helping matters at all. Then, just when Dean's entire body tensed and recoiled and it looked like he was about to push himself back to his feet and leave, the tension seemed to unwind all at once. Then he sank forward, elbows propped up on the table, and buried his face into his hands. "Jeez, I can't do this. I can't do this anymore…" The hunter mumbled. "I can't handle this."
Castiel stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath and steadied himself again. He ran over what he'd been saying in his head, but he couldn't figure it out. Was Dean just upset by the praise, the compliments? Castiel knew he didn't take stuff like this lightly, but he hadn't expected an outright objection to it, he hadn't expected Dean to flat-out tell him to shut up. The angel made a face at himself, staring at Dean's hands now as his fingers curled against his face, and frowned. "You still don't see it?" He finally asked, and Dean went rigid. "Who you really are, it's-"
"This isn't about me!" Dean interrupted, dropping his hands from his face and lifting his head to fix the angel with a dubious stare. Castiel blinked, and Dean groaned, closing his eyes again.
"Then…" Castiel raised his eyebrows, pushing them as high as he could. "I don't get it."
"I know you don't," Dean growled. His shoulders sagged after a moment, a gesture of defeat; Castiel could practically see him deflate all at once, and he wanted nothing more than to lean across the table, and wrap both his arms and his wings around the hunter at that moment. "Just… whatever point you were making, what you were saying… go ahead, go on." He raised a hand, gesturing it toward Castiel half-heartedly, and the angel finally felt a brief flare of irritation stir in his chest. He stifled it, however, in favor of trying to figure out what that meant. That implied Dean knew what point he was trying to make, something he seemed disappointed by - or at the very least disgruntled about. And this was more than just him reacting to compliments.
It took a moment to click; the things Dean had said, the way he was acting. But even then, it didn't really make sense. It left him even more confused, but this time somewhat disbelieving. "What…" Castiel stopped for a second, blinked again, and stared at the hunter. Dean didn't look back up at him, pressing his face into his hands again and shaking his head lightly with a sigh.
Castiel continued to stare for a while. Then, "the point I was making, Dean, is that I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. That you could show yourself a little… compassion, a little empathy, a little love every now and again." Dean twitched slightly at those words, and finally lifted his head, as Castiel braved himself enough to continue. "Ever since we met- ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared. You still care. After everything you've been through, and everything you've seen, and done, you still care. And I care. I care about you. I care about Sam. I care about Jack. I care about the whole world because of you." He stopped for a second, drinking in a few gulps of air and steadying himself again, and Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "You told me not to ever change, but you changed me."
"How?" Dean demanded after a moment. "How did I change you, Cas? I haven't-"
"Because I loved you, you idiot," Castiel interrupted, exasperated. "Because I love you."
He watched Dean's chest fall still as his breath caught, watch his eyes go wider than Castiel had ever seen. The angel waited a moment to see if Dean would respond, but the hunter simply sat there with his mouth open, eyes flickering frantically as he scanned Castiel's face. So the angel continued on after a few moments, cautiously, "loving you changed me. It's still changing me," he admitted. "And I wish you could see it, Dean. How important you are, how much you matter. Not just to the world. I know the world needs you, you know the world needs you. But how much you matter to me - how much I need you, Dean…" He trailed off, closing his eyes.
When Dean spoke, it was tentative, unsteady, "why does this sound like…"
"Because it is." He didn't need to finish.
"Oh." A beat of silence, a shaky breath, and, "oh."
When the silence stretched on for too long after that, when Castiel's ears started ringing, he finally decided it was time to end the conversation. He'd already said more than he wanted to, more than he meant to, and he knew he'd already given Dean a lot more to think about than the hunter had bargained for. So, sucking in a deep breath and blinking his eyes open, the angel leaned back and cupped his hands around his water bottle again. The hunter was still staring at him, staring as he shifted back in his seat, as he pushed his chair back and stood up. Staring as he stepped out from around the table - and then, all too suddenly, he wasn't just staring anymore, wasn't sitting still as a statue in his chair. Suddenly he was up on his feet, just as Castiel had turned to leave, just as he was ready to retreat into his room for the night even though he didn't plan on sleeping. Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, and Dean was right there in front of him, and suddenly those lips Castiel couldn't stop staring at half the time were pressed up right against his and Dean's hand was on his shoulder and the other one was gripping his tie, but Castiel couldn't feel anything, but Dean's lips against his and the sparks and fireworks that lit up in his stomach as Dean pushed him back against the wall and kissed him.
It took him barely a second to kiss back, as he had always wanted to. It was passionate but soft at the same time, everything Castiel dreamed it would be and more. He brought his hands up, dropping the water bottle on the floor - he wasn't drinking it anyway - in favor of cupping his hands around the back of Dean's head and lacing his fingers together through his hair instead. He felt the grip on his tie tighten as Dean tried to pull him even closer, but they were already so close, close enough that Castiel could feel the warmth radiating from Dean's body as the hunter pressed forward against him, pinning him back against the wall and kissing him even harder.
They pulled back only out of necessity on Dean's end, so that the hunter could breathe. Castiel kept an intense, unwavering gaze on the hunter until Dean caught his breath again, waiting.
"I love you too." Dean paused, breathed in, and added, "you idiot."
Castiel responded by tugging him back into another kiss, and Dean melted against him at once.