Look at me

by Lanevra

Sam had only the best of intentions, and where good intentions take you we all know. At best, it's just a misunderstanding and one empty bottle of whiskey.

Look at me

He paused indecisively in the doorway.

Sam was in the process of pouring water into the coffee maker, so his back was to him, but Dean was pretty sure he must have heard him coming. He hadn't bothered to be stealthy at all, and Sammy would have had to be a damn poor hunter to have missed the footsteps coming down the concrete hallway, which had a hell of an echo in it. Still, he didn't turn around. He didn't let on that he even knew about Dean. He didn't say anything, he didn't say hello, he didn't even holler, he just went about his business.

He's been like this for a bloody week! Seven days since everything about him and Cas and things between them... just since it all blew up in the worst possible way, because like, really? A curse ala Sleeping Beauty, spread by the ghost of a sixteen year old chasing all over town on a super fast highway of rosehip bushes that could only be broken with a 'true love kiss'. A casual kiss... and an admission that they'd been sleeping together for a few weeks. Yeah, Dean could totally picture angel's face and that damn compelling, deep voice of his saying 'You know, Sam, Dean and I have been in a romantic, sexual relationship for weeks now.

Why did even the nice things in his life have to get so fucking complicated right away.

"Hey," he added, summoning the courage to greet his brother.

Sam gave him a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Hey," he replied simply, getting back to what he was doing. Nothing more, just a sort of humming without interest.

Slowly he walked over to the table and so closer to Sam. He stopped behind his back and watched him while he waited to see if he would say anything else. But he didn't. He just stayed damn silent. Like he had all this time. They'd met in the hallways, in the library, in the kitchen, but they'd passed each other by because his brother had nothing more than a greeting for him.

"Are you never going to talk to me again or what?" He asked, his voice carefully controlled because he feared he could hear the anxiety that choked him like a hangman's noose.

"I'm talking to you. Actually, I'm talking to you right now," Sam replied, turning on the drip and moving a little to the side of the bag of beets. He did it as if nothing had happened at all and talking to Dean like he was some kind of stranger was perfectly normal.

Only it fucking wasn't! This whole thing was... his nightmare, the fear that had kept him from Sam for so long, keeping the thing that made him truly happy... keeping Case... this nightmare had just come true. And as much as he'd convinced himself that Sam, his damn understanding little brother, wouldn't mind, he'd been wrong. What he feared had happened had happened. He was now, in his eyes, some weak faggot who didn't deserve more than a few terse sentences. Exactly how most hunters and friends would view him...

A hot rush of anger ran down his back, taking all the angst of the last few days with it.

He clenched his fist.

"All bullshit, huh?" he asked gruffly.

He'd finally earned Sam's full attention.

"What are you talking about?" He asked as he turned to Dean, looking him squarely in the face for the first time in a long time.

"About all your talk of tolerance and the fucking rainbow badge on your bag and all that. You're just a plain hypocrite! That's what you are!"

"You... ah... you're calling me homophobic?!" Sam asked, genuinely shocked.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying!" He replied firmly.

"I... um... I," Sam fell silent and shook his head, lips pressed together in one of those expressions of his before he briefly slid his gaze away and after ruffling his hair he looked straight at Dean again. "I don't know whether to punch you or start laughing because... You," he took a half step forward and threw his hands up, "you think I mind you sleeping with Cas because he's a guy?"

"I don't think so, I know it," he said, still firm. "The way you're ignoring me and... acting like an asshole! It just bothers you, or maybe it disgusts you that I'm not what you thought I was. That I'm not what you thought I was."

"I don't mind you sleeping with a man!"

"Yeah, you sure do," he snorted. "Things have been looking a lot different from where I'm standing the last few days. And you know what!" He stepped forward and pointed a finger at Sam. "I don't care that you're bothered! I don't care what you think about it! I don't care if you see me as some kind of faggot - "

"I slept with a guy too, Dean!" Sam interrupted his litany.

The words died on his lips, and by the time his brain finally caught up with his mouth, he even managed to shut it, leaving it agape in surprise. Because... what the hell?

All those days of anxiety had built up anger inside him that was finally boiling over now, and he was even determined to have a hard showdown with Sam, to let those few words cool him down better than a cold shower and a bucket of ice to go with it.

"Wait... you... what?" he asked, more confused than anything.

Sam sighed and leaned back against the kitchen counter, lowering his eyes to the floor briefly before lifting a gaze to Dean that held a bit of weariness and resignation, but also something like nostalgia. Even his lips lifted in a smile.

"You know how I fell out of the house before the holidays?"

He nodded slightly. He remembered that all too well. Sam took advantage of the first major argument to pack up his things and slam the door behind him, declaring that he'd rather spend the summer homeless than with them.

"I found a job at a coffee shop, just washing dishes. Nothing special, otherwise, but I met Peter there. He was a waiter there and... I don't know," he flailed his arms around a bit before folding them across his chest. "He was smart, funny, liked books and comics, like me, and we really hit it off. And once... just," he shrugged a little. "There was this moment... in the warehouse, when we were straightening things out. He kissed me... I kissed him... we kissed each other. I don't know. Then he told me he was interested in me and wanted us to be more than friends and I... I just said yes. Let's do it because... he was great and I really liked him. Maybe I didn't love him, more like definitely not, but... it was a nice two months." He shrugged again and moved his hands to rest them on the edge of the counter. "When the school year started, I found a room in the dorm and moved out, so we couldn't see each other as often and somehow it... didn't work out."

It was obvious that these were some of Sam's good memories, albeit very distant ones, because he was still smiling slightly. That... actually, everything and everything he'd heard gave Dean a strange sense of relief. A good relief that took the weight of anger and anxiety off his back, but brought some confusion because... hey! He hadn't the faintest idea that Sam had ever even looked at a guy. In fact, he didn't really look at women much, which he always liked to put forward and label him as 'almost panicky', even though he knew full well that quite a few girls had actually passed through Sam's bed. Not that he cared all that much, but he couldn't overlook the pretty waitresses his little brother had disappeared into the night with, or the witnesses in the case who'd slipped him their number and the way Sam had disappeared from the hotel room afterwards.

So definitely, yeah, he'd have to notice that there'd be a guy among all those women if... if Sam wasn't terribly anxious to hide it.

Suddenly he felt like the roles had been completely reversed.

All those weeks he'd been afraid of Sam's reaction... all those stupidly ridiculous fears that he wouldn't be the big brother in his eyes anymore... and yet maybe Sam had felt the same way all these years. Which he didn't have to! Dean had no problem at all with liking guys. That was totally cool.

The knowledge that Sam had kept this from him literally his whole life put the weight back on his back, so he blindly fumbled for a chair tucked by the table and pulled it out so he could sit in it.

"Why... didn't you ever tell me about this Peter?"

"Because," Sam replied, stepping towards him, "when I first saw you after a long time, it was ancient history and then... there were more important things to do than talk about school crushes. We were looking for Dad, you were in Hell, one apocalypse after another... oh..." he stood in front of Dean. "And when there was a moment of calm, it just didn't come up or matter. It's not like he was... the lost love of my life or anything."

"Okay... so... that one guy... was he just him? Just an experiment. Am I getting this right?" He asked the question that just burned on his tongue. Like Sam had said, no epic love. who didn't experiment in college, if they went to college of course. So in the end, he didn't have to feel as guilty as he felt because it really wasn't anything. No big secret his brother was keeping from him that was eating at him. Or that would get him into some kind of trouble that he had to sort out on his own because he was too afraid to tell Dean about his... sexual orientation or something.

"No, Dean, it wasn't just an experiment," Sam gave him the answer he didn't want to hear, pulling out his own chair and sitting down in it. "It was a full-fledged relationship, or at least as full-fledged as a relationship can be when you're twenty."

"But you're not gay!" He declared, a little more defensively than he intended. "I've seen you with women. You like women. You do, don't you?" he added uncertainly. This whole discussion was turning his brain a bit.

Sam half chuckled and half sighed.

"Yeah, I like women," he replied, "Actually, I like women mostly, but... sometimes... if a man comes along who has something..." he shook his head indecisively, "... I don't know exactly what myself, so if he's interested, I... I won't say no."

For several long moments, he couldn't manage not only to say a word, but to do nothing more than stare at Sam like the bloody idiot he felt he was too. A confused idiot, to be exact. It made him feel guilty, because Sam was keeping a large and quite important part of himself from him, and that wasn't okay. He didn't understand why.

"You never told me anything about this. Why not? You..." he waved a hand in his direction, "you thought I'd..."

"That you wouldn't take it very well?" Sam finished for him. "Yeah," he shook his head. ""When I was a teenager and I liked a guy for the first time, I was afraid to tell you because... I know how hunters are, and they're usually not very understanding of other sexual orientations. Especially back then. And you were a hunter in body and soul. Later," he moved his hands to his lap and clasped them, "I kept it from you, not because I was afraid of your judgment, but because... I know what hunters are like," he said with a bitter chuckle. "I just didn't want you to have another reason to worry about me and protect me when you didn't need to."

"I'll always worry about you. You're my damn little brother! It's my job!" He declared firmly, his voice thick with part guilt and part anger. Because as soon as Sam remembered the nature of most of the hunters they knew and all the bullshit about not wanting to worry Dean, the worst possible scenarios of someone in Sam's past finding out he was into guys and not taking it well started playing out in his head. Images of being called a faggot, taunted, even though he might be almost a boy or worse! Some bunch of homophobic pricks wanting to take 'justice' into their own hands. Sure, he knew Sam would take those types down with one hand, but that didn't soothe his rising anger, he just thought about it.

"I know, Dean, and it's my job to take care of you again, which is why I have to ask," he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped. "Why didn't you tell me about you and Cas for so long? Did you think I'd mind? That I wouldn't see you any more anyway?"

"Yes," it came out of him thoughtlessly. "No," but he corrected himself the next instant. "I... I don't know... maybe I thought..."

"That your relationship with Cas makes you less of a man?"

"Maybe... I..."

"Do you think I'm less of a man?"

"No!"

"Is Charlie less brilliant and strong just because she's a lesbian?"

"No, of course not!" He retorted without hesitation, because there was nothing to hesitate over here. "But you and her... that's just different."

"Why is it something else?"

"It just is!"

"No, it isn't, Dean. You're not standing somewhere above the others," Sam told him, hard and honest. "You're just as human as we are, and there aren't any special rules that apply to you. Being attracted to men... or even just one man... doesn't make you weaker. Not in my eyes, and not in the eyes of others... at least for your own sake, they shouldn't look at you any differently," he added a small, private joke that would hopefully make Dean grin despite the seriousness of the whole subject and despite the lingering insecurity he felt if... if the fact that Sam had been distant for the past week wasn't still in the air between them.

"Fine... okay... you don't have a problem with that... I don't have a problem with that, so why..." he gesticulated vaguely with his hand, "why have you been a pain in the ass for the last week?"

Sam sighed.

"Because it's about you and... Castiel."

He was a little confused by the answer at first. Of course it was about him and Castiel. That's what they'd been talking about all along. Then he realized what Sam meant.

"Does it bother you that this guy... that it's Cas? Our Cas?" He asked, half in disbelief, but mostly with dawning annoyance. How could he be bothered by Cas?

"No, it doesn't bother me, not in the way you might think," Sam denied with another sigh. "I... actually... I'm not surprised that you two have moved in this direction. You and Cas... you had and have a 'special bond'," he emphasized those last two words. "I didn't expect you to... well... ever pull your heads out of your asses and take a good look at each other, but I'm not shocked that you finally did. What I'm worried about..." he planted an even stronger card, "... is our family curse. Every person you or I have ever loved has been in danger, hurt or dead because of us. If this curse falls on Case..." with another sigh, this one small, he paused. "I'd lose my best friend and then I'd lose you because you'd start freaking out and I'd..."

Sam didn't have to finish for Dean to understand all too well. All these weeks since he'd first kissed Case, his head had been spinning in a vicious circle. From the great feelings of joy, fulfillment and warmth he had when he was in the presence of his angel, to the self-doubt and fear of what would happen when everything came out, to exactly what Sam was talking about. About the fact that all of his relationships had gone to shit, to say the least, and that that was exactly what could happen this time. For a hundred and one reasons ranging from simply being really bad at all things relationship to a brand new threat that will finally end the existence of one of them for good.

And he also thought about what would happen to Sam then, because he was still his big brother and he simply couldn't help but think about his happiness and safety.

The problem was, he had no patch to cover those fears. It was just the way life was.

"If things go wrong in any way... I'm not going to freak out. I promise," he vowed, because it was the only thing he could do and the only thing he had to do as a big brother. "And Cas? If anyone can take care of himself, it's him. He's still a bloody angel, isn't he!" He pointed out, partly to himself, because when it came to thoughts of what if they had to face another disaster, this usually calmed him down a bit. Granted, Cas wasn't at the peak of his powers like he had been when they'd met - no angel, thankfully - but he was still completely out of the league of normal monsters, and resilient and strong enough to boldly take on the abnormal ones.

"And that's another part of my problem. That he's an angel," Sam surprised him with his reaction.

And, of course, he got angry.

"Really? You're the last one who has the right to judge just that," he retorted harshly, of course alluding to the fact that Sam had a few non-human notches on his arm.

"Actually, Dean, I'm probably the only one who can judge," Sam argued calmly, "precisely because I have my fair share of non-human... acquaintances. And because I know, and have always known, what it entails, and have been fully aware that they are not human. But I'm not sure you understand that Cas isn't human."

What kind of bullshit was that? Of course he understood that Castiel wasn't human. He reminded himself of that every day when he saw him or even heard him speak.

"Of course I understand that Cas isn't human," he brushed off the absurdity immediately.

"Really?" Sam asked in return, raising an eyebrow significantly. "So... have you considered how it's even possible that you're... attracted to him?"

And what kind of question was that again?

"I'm a nice guy, funny and kind. There are plenty of people, and I mean women and men, who find me attractive."

"Yeah, so he wasn't thinking," Sam grinned bitterly, leaning back in his chair. "You do realize that the short, scruffy guy in the trench coat who looks like a poor accountant isn't really Castiel? Castiel is a skyscraper-sized celestial being made of pure energy... it has wings and... maybe six heads, scales, tentacles... who knows. I don't. Do you?" He asked, gesticulating with his hands; Dean could only remain silent in response, because no, he didn't know what Castiel really looked like and had never thought about it in any depth. "So you see. You don't even know what Cas really looks like. That doesn't strike me as a good basis for a relationship."

"It's not like I can just look at him... I mean at his real self..." he argued, completely logical and irritated at the same time. After all, it wasn't his fault that the angels' true form burned the man's eyes out of his head when he caught a glimpse of it for just a few seconds, and that a longer exposure would end in permanent vaporization. He was working with what he had, and that was, as Sam put it, a little guy in a trench coat... a sexy guy in a trench coat with eyes as blue as the sky itself and smelling of cookies and cleanliness.

"I know you can't, but you should keep that in mind. You should think about how Castiel perceives what's between you."

He frowned, confused and thoughtful.

Was Sam suggesting that he and Cas should discuss their future together? That was absurd. For one thing, he didn't want or need life advice from his younger brother with the emphasis on the younger. And then; what would be the point? Everything was fine. The sex was great, actually more than great, it was surreal, even if they still didn't get beyond blowing each other. And the rest of it? He and Cas sat in front of the TV in each other's arms, Cas spent most nights in Dean's room (which was fine because he was willing to crawl into bed and not just stand in the corner and stare while Dean slept), they talked about cases, they talked about shit, and... what more could they do? What should the future hold for the two of them? It wasn't like they could move into some nice suburban neighborhood where the houses had white picket fences, buy a dog, and start going to a normal eight-hour job.

They were hunters, their life was killing monsters, sleeping in motels and eating cheap fast food. And sometimes saving the world. Just because they were dating couldn't change the rest of their lives.

"What exactly are you talking about?"

Before Sam answered, he made one of those faces he had when he was about to say something terribly important.

"Considering how different Castiel really is from us, are you sure he understands what's between you two correctly? That he wants the same thing you do? That he wants... well... let me get this straight... are you sure he really wants to sleep with you? That he's even interested in any... sexual contact with anyone?"

Dean blinked in surprise. Surely Sam couldn't be implying...

"Whoa!" He raised his voice in exasperation and waved his hand wildly. "How can you even hint...! Who do you even take me for! I've never been anyone... How can my actual brother think that of me? Fuck!" He jumped out of his chair.

"I'm sorry, Dean!" Sam held up his hands defensively, sounding truly apologetic. "I didn't mean to say you were forcing him. I never meant it that way. I just meant that maybe Cas is just doing what he thinks you want."

"That's bullshit!" He snapped, because the idea was absurd and he was determined to prove it. "It's none of your business, but I can guarantee you that Cas is an active and enthusiastic participant in... everything. Ok?!" He said emphatically, and really had to hold himself from yelling much more. "And... and you're completely wrong if you think he's not interested in... sex. He definitely does, and always has."

"Really? And when?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow. "When you told him he shouldn't die a virgin and took him to a brothel? When he imitated something he saw on TV, like little kids do? When you took him to the bar to help you pick up girls? When he announced to you that he'd had sex, like it was some task you'd checked off your list?" As he asked one question after another, a certain uncertainty slowly crept up on Dean. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but Cas, at least on this one thing, keeps repeating the same pattern, and that pattern is that he wants to please you."

He was about to protest, because that simply couldn't be true, but if he thought about it for just a moment, maybe... maybe there really was something to what Sam was saying. Cas had never told him that he wanted him. He'd only said he loved him more than he loved his friend and brother. It was Dean who had initiated the first kiss, the second one too, the third and fourth and many, many more. Sure he was more active, but damn it, he always was. And it wasn't like Cas had never come first... or had he?

The bug of doubt that Sam had planted in his mind began to gnaw at him, making him wonder if Cas had ever come on his own initiative, and with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach he realized that he hadn't, actually.

Whenever it was Cas who got the game moving, it was at a time when Dean himself had long been thinking about a nice few moments under the covers. Always.

That realization settled him back into his chair.

Had Cas really slept with him just because he wanted to? He couldn't read minds anymore, but he could sense... something. But hell, even if it was, why would he do what Dean wanted if he didn't want to do it himself in the first place? No, that was just stupid. Sam's whole idea was bullshit and nothing more, if only because...

"When Cas was human, he liked that... coworker at his work," he recalled an occasion when the angel had definitely had a romantic interest in someone. Dean might not remember her name, but that didn't matter after all.

"Well, first of all," Sam began judiciously, his voice heralding another long, enlightening speech, "it was you who tried and failed to get her back, as I'm sure you remember. And secondly... Cas was never human," he said very seriously, to which Dean immediately responded with a gasp to protest; Sam silenced him with a raised hand, "I know he says that about himself, and that he likes to believe it, but it's not true. I've talked to him and I'm pretty sure he wasn't human. Not a real human. Follow the flow of my thoughts, Dean," he urged, pushing his chair more to the edge and leaning forward. "You and I are human, we were born human, and we're one of the few who not only believe we have a soul, we know we do, and we know what it looks like. Yet... we do not feel our soul. We are not aware of it and we certainly don't feel like a little cloud of blue light residing in our body. Isn't it?"

"Yes. Right."

"When Metatron took his Grace from Castiel it robbed him of his wings and trapped him in a human body with all his needs like food and rest, but..." he emphasized his words with his tone and hand, "Cas never stopped being aware of himself. His true self. His true form. He wasn't part of his body like our souls are part of our bodies, he was just stuck in a human body. It's as close to humanity as he could get as an angel, but it's not the same." He straightened, and it was clear from his expression that he was done.

Dean was done, too.

"I'll... I'll have to think about it," he said after a moment of tense silence that fell between them, and stood up. Sam didn't say anything to him, let alone try to stop him. And even if he tried, Dean wouldn't let on. He really needed to think about what he'd just heard, because...

It really was all fucked up.

°°0°°

Like every night for the past week, he went to Dean's room instead of his own. He left the door ajar to let her know he was already there and slowly began to undress. First his jacket, then his jacket and tie, and finally his shoes. He took everything off as a human would, because Dean didn't want 'angel magic' in his bedroom. It was tediously tedious, but it was bearable if it made Dean happy.

The door creaked open behind him.

He turned a few of his eyes towards Dean, while he kept the human ones fixed on putting his shoes away. Once he'd straightened them into their usual place, he turned and slid his gaze over the man who seemed to be standing indecisively in the doorway. He was in his sleeping clothes, his hair was a little damp and he seemed hesitant to even enter.

"Dean."

"I didn't know you were here," Dean growled vaguely, taking the longest route to the bed. It almost looked like he wanted to avoid it.

"I don't understand. Where else would I be?" He asked a little confused by Dean's words; he'd been here for the last six nights and had been made welcome, had anything changed? "Should I leave?"

"No," Dean answered quickly, then paused and looked up at him with an undecipherable expression on his face. "Unless you want to leave yourself."

He didn't understand. If he didn't want to be here, or if he wanted to leave now, he would just do it. He had no reason to wait for Dean's permission or approval. So he let his comment go unanswered and instead did what he did every night; he walked over to the bed and sat on it to wait for Dean to lie down.

He had done it that first night, though then it was because he didn't know what else to do but just sit back and wait to see what happened. He'd been in Dean's room overnight several times before, but they'd always engaged in carnal pleasure. He was getting pretty good at that. The kisses and touches were welcome, and all the sensations that flowed from Dean were even more so. But that first night after returning from their last case, Dean didn't crave it. No, he'd just quietly asked to stay and so he had, guarding him throughout the night. That wasn't unusual for him, considering he'd been doing it for most of his human life, except for the last few harrowing years. It was only different in that Dean wished he'd shared his bed with him and had established rules, like no 'angel magic' and no boots and waders in bed, no kicking and no taking the blanket.

The whole thing had been weird and awkward at first, until they'd gotten into bed together, Dean had wrapped his arms around his waist and laid his head on the pillow next to his. The touch and closeness of his glowing soul and fluttering consciousness was what made him wrap his wings around them both and the bed as tightly as possible. And hold on throughout the night while Dean slept, deep in his dreams that hovered like shadows at the edge of Castiel's being. It tempted him to reach into them to see what Dean was dreaming about. He didn't, because he'd learned to respect privacy over the years, and since they weren't downright bad dreams, there was no reason for him to intrude. He let them pass, just running the fingertips of his real hands over Dean's temple from time to time to dispel the gathering clouds.

And then, night after night, he'd return to Dean's room and do the same, because he liked being able to guard his sleep up close and not just extend the tip of his wing from the distance of his room over concrete walls crisscrossed with sharp, high-voltage cables that could sting like bedbugs.

"Do you want to leave?" Dean asked.

He turned to him and frowned.

"This is the second time you've made sure I want to be here. Why would I want to leave?" He asked, confused. "I'm happy to be here, Dean, and I'm also happy to guard your sleep," he admitted without embarrassment, even though he knew beforehand that the man would frown in displeasure.

"I don't know, Cas... maybe you want to be alone... or... go out, do the angelic things you do when you wander around the bunker at night."

"I want to stay here," he said emphatically.

"Okay, okay," Dean replied after a brief hesitation, finally getting into bed.

Castiel followed suit and, as he did every night, he settled down on his half of the bed, much closer to the edge than Dean, threading one wing through the bed and letting the other hover over it, waiting for Dean to settle down with an arm around his waist. Only he didn't. They lay on their backs, far apart so their bodies didn't touch.

It left him with an uncomfortable feeling of rejection, and also in confusion because he couldn't remember what could have happened during the day that would have made Dean keep his distance. Again. Human emotions were so fickle, especially with Dean, that he sometimes had trouble even noticing their changes, let alone managing to adjust. Plus all the unnecessary complications they brought to people's lives.

"Damn!" Dean suddenly growled, throwing himself into a sitting position so fast that Castiel barely had time to pull his wing out of the way. "You really want to be here?" He asked sharply.

He followed suit and sat up as well, while slowly folding his wings behind the back of his vessel, out of reach of Dean's suddenly raging emotions. And tilted his head to the side in another fit of confusion.

"You keep asking me if I want to be here. Why?"

"Because... shit," he cursed, averting his gaze and rubbing his face before turning back to him. "I was talking to Sam about you."

Hearing that, Dean's annoyance suddenly made sense. Even though his experience was limited and he was still getting lost in a lot of human interactions, he didn't need anyone to tell him that the way Sam had found out about them wasn't the happiest. Which was probably why the younger of the brothers hadn't reacted as kindly as Castiel had thought. It wasn't that he resisted, but watching him and touching him, he could sense tension and a certain degree of disapproval from him, but he didn't show it.

"What do you really look like?"

The question took him by surprise. He had known Dean and Sam for several years and neither of them had ever asked him about his true appearance, even though they knew that the form of the vessel he was using was a far cry from his real appearance. It didn't seem to matter to them, which was surprising and confusing at first. He had expected them to ask him about it sooner or later, since they were one of the few people on the entire Earth who knew that angels had any real form. An inhuman form. Ordinary people usually assumed that angels were just people with wings. Except, of course, for the very few who could see their true faces. And Heaven kept the idea of human angels alive, because actual angelic forms, or at least what could be described in words, would probably be terrifying to humans.

"That's... complicated," he replied carefully but truthfully. It was complicated, and at the same time, he wasn't sure he wanted to tell Dean what he really looked like.

"That's what you always say when you don't want to answer a question."

"I'm not sure... how to answer your question," he said again truthfully, though he was reluctant to answer more because he didn't want to answer than because he didn't know how. "It's not exactly like I have a physical form that I can describe to you. I am made up of different kinds of energies located on multiple planes of existence at any one time. Any description of what I am... especially a description in a language as imprecise as English... was... vague."

"But it is possible to describe the form of an angel. I know this because Zachariah boasted of his lion's head and wings. And," he said emphatically, "I saw your wings."

He refrained from remarking that what Dean had seen at their first meeting was more like a mere shadow of the last outgrowth of his Primordial wings. The very tip of them, so small he could have gripped it with his fingertips. Though on this plane of existence, here on Earth, it looked like the shadow of wings a good fifteen meters across.

"Yes, I could tell you how those who can see us might see me, but..." he hesitated before continuing. "Those who can see us, Dean, usually refer to us as beautiful and terrible at the same time. Our Grace... our God's light allows them to see beauty in something that, when merely described, is... disturbing to say the least."

"Hell, I already have a frame of reference, Cas," Dean said irritably. "Wings, animal heads, tails, that sort of thing. I'm not going to freak out or anything if that's what you're worried about. I've seen some pretty ugly shit in my life and you... you're an angel, for God's sake, whatever you look like underneath that," he waved a hand towards Castiel, "it's not going to be as scary as you think."

Maybe Dean was right and it was time to introduce that part of himself too, but he still wasn't sure if it was a good idea. He had confidence that Dean wouldn't be scared, though, because considering how his appearance would appear to people, it wasn't actually scary. Not by the standards of the Hunter, who had spent his life fighting real monsters, including demons whose forms were terrifying to the human eye. But at the same time, he knew how different he really was from humans, and he wasn't sure how Dean would react when he realized that difference.

In the end, he decided to trust not only him, but the strength of his spirit and the bond that connected them.

"Okay, I'll try to describe," he agreed then, and began to slowly move forward so that he could look at himself with his human eyes while he delved into Jimmy's memories. It was the only way he could put together the best description of himself as humans would see him. By combining his human sight with his memories and, most importantly, the feelings Jimmy had when he first and last saw Castiel the moment he gave him his consent.

With his human eyes, he looked at himself as a human would see him, the eyes on one of his heads looking at himself through his own air, and the remaining pairs, the ones on the other head, intently watching Dean's every reaction as he tried to describe himself:

"I have... two heads," he began slowly. "One looks... I guess you'd compare it to a bird, but it doesn't have a beak. It's more of a toothy mouth."

"Like a pterodactyl?" Dean asked simply, and from what Castiel could judge, he didn't look the least bit fazed yet.

"A little," he admitted, though it wasn't an accurate description, because this head of his, the one that was always the more difficult to think of, by the way, had the exact shape of an animal that didn't yet exist. "The other one looks more like a dog. I have... five eyes on each head. I also have five pairs of wings and four hands, two made of the fiery wrath of God and two of divine grace. My feet are like the claws of a predator, but they have countless fingers, and my body is... indeterminate. It has a shape that... I don't think these eyes," he squinted his human eyes, "can really capture that shape. I see it through them more like a shifting cloud."

"You... you're looking at yourself with your own eyes?" Dean asked with a hint of surprise, but mostly disbelief.

"No," he replied, turning his human gaze away from himself at the same time that he slowly moved through the layers of space back to where he could best harmonize with his vessel. "I look at myself through the eyes of my vessel because I can see myself through them as a human would see me."

"How would you..." he paused in confusion, then looked behind the back of Castiel's vessel, for who knew why, even though he couldn't see anything there. Then he looked back into his eyes. "Are you... inside... somehow squeezed in, even though you're the size of a skyscraper? Or are you outside? Because... how could you look at yourself if you were inside."

"I'm both outside and inside," he answered truthfully.

"How?!" Dean asked sharply, incomprehension and the irritation, even anger that came with it, written in both his face and his voice, but mostly in the vibrations that flowed from him.

Quite instinctively, he picked up Grace's wing and wrapped it around his back to comfort him.

"It's complicated, Dean," he replied patiently. "Basically, some parts of me are inside my vessel... my physical body... others are more on the outside and some are sometimes inside and sometimes outside. At the same time, in a sense, I am neither inside my vessel nor outside, because I remain in flux somewhere on the interface of material realities and metaphysical planes. That's why I can move in such a way that I see myself through the eyes of my vessel."

"That... doesn't make sense." He shook his head in exasperation, his face contorted in a surly expression only it could manage. All that itch-like grumpiness brushed against the wings Castiel was hugging him with in an attempt to calm him down a little, which wasn't working at all. His wings retracted a little in response themselves. He moved them back again, but he hugged Dean in a much tighter bubble than before to avoid further unplanned contact. His glowing wings were now pinned to the wall, so he could see them with every pair of his eyes, including his human ones, and that gave him an idea to make Dean more aware of what he'd been trying to explain when he'd said he was part in and part out.

"My wings," he said, and at the words he slightly spread all of them except the Primal ones, even though he knew that a human wouldn't actually be able to see them; it was just an instinctive movement. "It's almost impossible to fit them into a physical body, which is why I leave them free. They are also something like my... senses. In a way, I also perceive the material world through them and can... influence it to some extent."

Again, it almost looked like Dean could see something, because he looked around with the gaze of a hunter searching for something that was invisible, but only until it attacked. He swept his eyes across the room before looking back at Castiel.

"Are they around now?" He asked, caution in his voice, radiating some uncertainty.

"They're still here," he replied, pulling Grace's wings a little closer again.

"Can you touch me with them?"

"You wouldn't feel it. Not in the conventional sense."

"But can you do it?" He asked a second time, more urgently.

"I do," he confessed, his mouth all twisted into a smile as he remembered the times he'd touched Dean with his wings the most. "I hug you when we indulge in carnal pleasures... I mean sex," he clarified, because, as Dean had said, his language was still too archaic. "I can feel all of your pleasure, your pleasure, your... mind, through them at that moment. You... you show me so much of yourself in that moment," his hand lifted, and his vessel's hand lifted with it, placing it on Dean's cheek as he raised his wings to cover them both with them.

Dean said nothing, just stared straight into his eyes with an unreadable expression, and even though he was touching him directly, he couldn't sense what he was thinking. He strained his hearing for that telltale murmur of the human mind that was too quiet for him to truly understand, and tried to hear even one small thought that was currently chasing after Dean's green eyes. He couldn't catch a sliver of it. It was so very frustrating.

"Dean?" He broke the silence that had lasted too long.

"How do you see me?" Dean responded.

He frowned.

"I see you as a righteous man. A brave fighter for the lives of the innocent..."

"No, not Cas!" He interrupted impatiently. "No, metaphorically. How do you really see me with your... your ten eyes? Or... twelve if you count the human ones," he corrected himself. "What do you see?"

He understood what the man wanted him to do. Now that he was more aware of Castiel's true form, he wanted to know even more. He wanted to understand what the world he now had to live in looked like to him. Dean wanted to know him more. The thought filled him with a joy that caused most of his wings to lift and unfurl around the room, even though he hadn't intended to. He left them that way. Freely, feeling like he didn't have to hide anything or repress himself.

"I see..." he focused each pair of his eyes on Dean, trying to get the best look he could to answer his question as accurately as he could. "... Your strong body, riddled with battle scars. And I can see your soul, too."

"See my soul?" Dean asked half-loudly.

"Yes, of course I do. I mean..." he tilted his head and squinted. "I can't quite see it, not like I can in Heaven, but I can see its glow. It's like a golden flowing glow that seeps through the molecules of your body. Like the dawn. It's something indescribably beautiful. I love it."

Dean's body suddenly tensed violently, his breath caught in his throat and his pulse quickened. At first, he thought the man was just taken aback by his confession, because that was who Dean always was. Even though he proclaimed his love for him almost every day, he still seemed a little uncomfortable in some way, though it was incomprehensible why.

He realized in a flash, though, that that wasn't the case. Dean had gripped his wrist with such force that to be an ordinary person would have caused him not only pain, but probably injury.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered as he pulled Castiel's hand away from his face and got out of bed surprisingly quickly.

He caught Castiel completely off guard. He literally burst through all the layers of his feathers, leaving an imprint of deep self-loathing that was suddenly the only emotion Dean felt. It wasn't the first time he'd caught something like that from him, but it had never been this strong. Never had it been so all-encompassing and, more importantly, so... confusing. Why was Dean disgusted for himself? And what did that have to do with Castiel? Was it the description of his own soul that disgusted him? It made absolutely no sense, because even for a human, what he described was something beautiful. If Dean could ever be disgusted by anything, it was the vague description of Castiel's true form, and it didn't upset him at all.

"Dean..." he said cautiously, with only a slight question mark at the end, slowly rising to his feet to approach the man who had turned his back on him for the time being. "Dean... I don't understand what's..."

"He was right," he interrupted with a barely intelligible mumble before turning abruptly. "Sam was right about everything," he said a lot louder, as if that might clarify anything. "You don't want to fuck this... me," he waved both hands to indicate his body, "you want to fuck my soul. And all this," he gesticulated between them, "isn't real. You don't really want it. You're only doing it because I want it."

"That's not it, Dean..."

"No, that's exactly what it is!" He interrupted angrily. "You're a fucking thousand-foot-tall celestial bird with ten wings. How could you want to fuck a human? How could you even think of that?"

"My resemblance is just rather metaphysical, but my body..." he tried to express that although he could detach himself from his physical vessel almost to the point of not feeling anything, he hadn't done it in a long time. Quite the opposite. Mostly, always with Dean, he let whatever sensations his physical body offered him flow freely and enjoyed them. Granted, it was nothing compared to just remembering holding Dean's soul and really wanting to experience that feeling again in the first place, but making love to him did at least come close to that feeling.

"This isn't your body," the man didn't let him explain.

"No, in a way it isn't," he admitted, because why lie? Even though this vessel was empty and thus more his than when he shared it with Jimmy, it was still just a sort of appendage on his real body. Something like a birthmark; it belonged to him, but there was a way to cut it off without actually missing it.

"You don't want to sleep with me," it wasn't a question, it was a simple, half-voiced statement. "And when you say you... love me, maybe that's the right kind of love, but not with all the human accoutrements."

He pursed his lips. He got the impression that no matter how hard he tried to explain his relationship with his own vessel, Dean refused to listen, focusing completely obsessively on one single aspect of his body's functioning. Even as a man, he didn't understand the obsession with sexual intercourse. It was pleasurable, yes, but there were bigger, more wonderful, more important, more incredible things. Dean's soul, no less. But how was he supposed to express it when the language he shared with Dean didn't have words for a hundredth of it.

"You should go," Dean demanded after another few moments of silence, when Castiel knew he should have said something but didn't because he didn't know what

"I want to stay," he argued, because that was what he really wanted.

"No... you should just... go back to your room and do whatever it is you do there at night." He waved vaguely toward the door.

"Dean..." He took a step forward and held out his hand.

"No!" He ducked away from his touch, hands raised in front of him in defense.

His shoulders drooped, and all his wings with them. Slowly, he pulled them toward him. He folded the remaining ones tightly to his vessel, right where they belonged, while he let Grace's wings arch behind his back and flutter low to the ground.

Without another word, he picked up his things and did, as he always did, what Dean asked of him.

°°0°°

He adjusted his robe and was about to shuffle his things from one hand to the other when his toothbrush slipped from the towel to the floor. He sighed and bent down to pick it up. Even as he was picking it up, he suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in that familiar warning that had saved his life more than once.

Instinctively he gripped the toothbrush a little tighter, for it was more or less the only thing resembling a weapon in the immediate vicinity, and for a moment he thought he was like John Wick. Though at least he had a pencil that could actually kill some monsters. Hardly a plastic toothbrush, regardless of the fact that there weren't supposed to be any monsters here.

He made an unconscious note that he should consider using wooden toothbrushes, if only because they were more environmentally friendly, and then finally got up to search his gaze for the danger his instincts had warned him about.

It was Castiel.

He wanted to say it was JUST Castiel, except that would be a bit... insufficient. For the angel was standing at the end of the hallway, literally filling it all. His body hadn't gotten any bigger, of course, but he simply gave the impression that he was taking up more space than he properly should, and he looked disturbing, regardless of the fact that he was even more sprawling than ever. His tie thrown loosely around his neck, his jacket somehow sticking out strangely beneath his trench coat, and the laces of his shoes uncommitted.

"What did you tell Dean about me?" Castiel asked in a deep voice that sent a shiver down Sam's spine.

It was the second time in barely ten days that he'd been subjected to the angel's wrath, though this time it was much more unpleasant than the first, because this time he was sure the anger was directed at him.

"Nothing, it's just..." he sighed and stepped forward to face Castiel; on some level Cas had managed to unsettle him, but having known him for so long and having faced angels many times before, he had long since lost the urge to turn and run. "I thought it would be best for both of you if Dean realized that this," he motioned a hand towards Castiel, "isn't really you. That you're so much more than the vessel... than the body Jimmy Novak sees."

Castiel cocked his head to one side and squinted his eyes as he did when he tried to find the truth behind a flimsy lie in someone's thoughts. Sam knew he wasn't lying, so he returned the look calmly.

"That's not all," Castiel said, stepping uncomfortably close to him, and though he had to duck his head to look up at Sam, Sam didn't get the impression that the angel was any smaller than he was.

"He thinks I don't want to have... sex with him because I'm an angel. I haven't done anything to make him think that. Someone else must have given him the idea," Castiel said in an accusatory tone.

He wasn't going to argue about whether he did it, because he really did, and for good reason.

"And you want to?" he asked instead.

"Want what?" asked Castiel in return, less accusatory and angry now, more confused.

"To have... sex with Dean?" He clarified his question, his tone as calm and matter-of-fact as he could manage. He wasn't exactly keen on talking about Dean's sex life, especially when it involved Castiel, who was actually his best, but he felt someone had to do it. That someone had to ask those burning questions because he knew Dean and knew he'd jump headfirst into everything. And because he also knew Castiel and knew he would do almost anything Dean asked of him. And Sam was sure that they might both wake up one day and find that things between them weren't working the way they imagined.

"I love Dean and anything that makes him happy makes me happy. And... sex...," here he hesitated, his gaze drifting first to the ground and then to the wall behind Sam's back before looking up at him again; suddenly not as big as it had been just a moment ago. "He's nice. I enjoy sex with Dean."

"You're enjoying it? Or just your body?"

"It doesn't make any difference. My vessel is part of me."

"That's not exactly true and we both know it," he disagreed. "You don't share this body with anyone and that's why it's more yours than if it still had a soul in it, but it's not part of you, Cas. I know that for a fact," he spoke emphatically. "Unlike Dean, I've been aware all along that you're not human and I've been wondering what... who you are and trying to understand it. I'm not just concerned with how to kill you, banish you, or imprison you, but with... how your very existence works. Your relationship to the vessels... And I don't think that's what you want. It's your vessel that wants it and... Dean and because you love him... and yes, I believe you do," he pointed out, sure that it should be said, "... you do what you think he wants. What he wants."

"Isn't the essence of love to make the one you love happy?"

"Not if it makes you unhappy or if you're doing something you don't want to do," he tried to explain something that deserved far more time and space than a few minutes of conversation in a cold hallway. A lot more time because it was obvious Castiel didn't understand the nuances. He squinted his eyes and tilted his head in a way so specific to situations, human situations, that he didn't understand.

"You think I'm stupid?" Castiel asked in a tone too calm for the meaning of the question.

"No, you're not," he retorted immediately. "I just think there are things... human things that maybe you don't quite understand yet."

"Because I'm an angel?"

"Yes." He nodded.

It took exactly three long breaths before Castiel stopped looking at him closely and took two steps back. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit he was a little relieved when the angel moved far enough away. For how long they'd known each other, Cas could still elicit that vague and very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach when he got angry.

The slight tension in his shoulders eased as he watched Castiel take another two steps away and turn his back on him. He knew him well enough to know that it would be best to stand still and wait for him to speak again. Because Sam knew he was thinking.

"You're right, Sam," he finally said as he turned to look at Sam again, frowning. "I'm not human and never will be, so there will always be things I don't understand. But let me say something about that," he stepped closer again. "You can never understand me. Your mind is not mature enough to ever understand what I am. And I'm certainly not worth your trying to understand me. I just want you to respect what I want. Respect me." He stepped uncomfortably close again, forcing him to straighten his back and resist the urge to back up, leaving him trapped against the wall. "And one more thing," he paused, his voice serious but not angry. "I'm a lot older than you realize. I've literally seen your sun come to life. I think that alone qualifies me to be... mature enough to give an insider's approval. Don't you think?"

He opened his mouth slightly, but closed it again as he felt the full meaning of Castiel's words. Although he thought he understood angels more than Dean did, and had even been absolutely convinced in the last few hours that what he'd been saying about Cas and his relationship with intimacy was undoubtedly true, now he suddenly lost that certainty. Gone along with the conviction that he was aware, at all times and in all circumstances, that Castiel was not human. It all dissolved in the touch of a cold hand crawling up his back as he tried to imagine... five billion years.

The number was simply surreal. They operated on them in geology. It was a figure listed on planetarium models of the solar system, not a number someone would have written on their driver's license, and yet here before him... in a cheap suit, a trench coat, and scuffed dress shoes... stood a being exactly that old. In itself, it wasn't so incredible that such an old creature existed. He knew he had encountered beings much older than that. Only he hadn't tried to interfere with their love lives or lecture them on what sex was and that it wasn't appropriate for them to have it.

Perhaps he was, after all, as incapable of realizing who and what Castiel was as Dean was. And maybe even more so, because Dean simply ignored the angel part and settled for the little guy in the trench coat, while Sam was convinced that he understood what Castiel was and thus had the right to interfere in his life.

He swallowed through a tightened throat and then tried to relax it with a gentle clearing of his throat.

"You're... right, Cas," he admitted slowly. "I guess I crossed a line when I thought I had the right to... lecture you on what you want and what's... good for you."

"Yeah, you definitely crossed that line," Castiel agreed without blinking, as well.

"Well... I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed a second time, perfectly calmly. "Now go to Dean and fix what you messed up."

Sam blinked in surprise.

"Me?"

"Yes." He nodded firmly. "He won't want to listen to me."

"I don't think I should be dealing with your argument. That's a private matter..."

"You messed up our relationship. You're going to fix it too," Castiel ordered uncompromisingly.

"Okay," came out of Sam before he realized what he was planning to say.

Castiel measured him with an unreadable gaze for a moment longer before nodding slightly, turning and continuing down the hallway toward the kitchen.

"I'm beginning to see why Dean didn't want to tell you about us," he muttered just loud enough before turning the corner.

As soon as he disappeared into the side hallway, all the tension seemed to magically leave Sam's body and he suddenly felt at ease. He took a long breath and let it out just as long.

Now; how the hell was he supposed to solve this problem?

°°0°°

Two fucking heads, ten fucking wings, four fucking arms and legs like fucking claws. This was the guy he loved and dated and fucked. Did that make him a zoophile or something? Or did it just not count? I guess it just didn't count because... fuck! Cas... Cas had never wanted to, because how could a giant celestia bird want to fuck a human. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Cas was just... what did he call it? A flow of energy existing simultaneously on several levels of existence and in different dimensions. A celestial wavelength. Something even fucking weirder than a ghost, because ghosts or demons had at least once been human and so might have wanted to fuck.

But Cas? Not Cas. He couldn't enjoy anything they did as much as Dean did, because who knows if he even had a dick. He did all those things... no, he let Dean do them to him just because he thought he wanted to. That he needed it. And that was...

He felt a familiar lump in his throat, rising slowly up into his mouth, threatening to leave a taste of his stomach juices. He washed them down with a swig of cheap whiskey.

"Dean?" Sam addressed him.

He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah?" He asked half-mouthed.

"You should slow down," Sam admonished him, even allowing himself to push the bottle aside so he could sit on the table.

"It's not like I'm going to die of liver failure," he deadpanned. If he did die, it would probably be from teeth, claws, or the snap of a mostra or some other son of a bitch. And even then, it was quite possible that it would only be a temporary death, as if any of the Winchesters could just die peacefully. Regardless, a bad liver was out of the question due to Cas performing what he called 'regular maintenance on your internal organs. You tend to put a lot of strain on them with unhealthy food, too little sleep and too much alcohol'.

Castiel, again, Castiel, who was just all over the damn place, even keeping his body fit and pain-free, well, except for that nasty writhing tentacled monster in his gut that was now tearing his stomach to pieces. Shit. His gaze caught the trash can. Maybe he'd need it again to dump the contents of his insides into, like he had a few minutes after Cas had left last night.

He'd never forced himself on anyone in his entire life. Yeah, okay, he was a little pushy at times, but he knew how to keep himself in line. He always cared about everyone having a good time, and more importantly, everyone would enthusiastically agree, even when he was drunk, because he never allowed himself to get so drunk that he forgot that. When he wanted to douse his brain with booze so that even the last little grey cells were desperately gasping for air, he always did it behind closed doors where no one could come in and take the hit - in any sense of the word.

And the one time he didn't look hard enough, it had to be at the guy... the creature... oh fuck, the celestia bird he cared about most of all. With Case, just being around him sent that feeling into his gut that they talked about in stupid romantic comedies. He'd even gone so far as to dig through a bunch of internal crap and break through a few barriers as big as the Great Wall of China and made it. He tried. He gave it all a pass and even dove headfirst into gay sex, which he damn well enjoyed... except he was the only one.

"Plus; there's no booze in hell. I have yet to enjoy it, because sexually harassing a celestial being will surely get me another express ticket down there. And if it doesn't, I don't know what will," he continued his bitter self-criticism and tried to reach for the bottle, only to be stopped by Sam. He literally pushed the whiskey to the other end of the table where Dean couldn't get at it.

"Yeah, because they're just going to welcome the two of us with open arms in heaven otherwise," Sam muttered in return, to which Dean didn't respond, so Sam continued, "About what I told you yesterday, Dean; I guess I was wrong."

"No, you weren't wrong. In fact, you were completely right," he interrupted before he could continue with some comforting bullshit. "I asked Case what he really looks like. And you know what? He told me and... dude, it's a gigantic celestia bird with two heads and ten wings! That's just... no." He just waved his hand.

He didn't want to dwell on it any further, and he hoped Sam wouldn't want to either, and would make do with the description of Cas's true form he'd just given him. Because that had to be perfect for everyone. There was no way anything... or anyone for that matter could want to fuck a tiny, two-legged, two-handed human. That sort of thing only worked in cartoon porn, but in the real world there were definitely some laws of nature against it.

"Okay, maybe I was right in that for a... gigantic celestia bird with two heads and ten wings," Sam repeated his colorful description, "intimacy means something different than it does for us, but I forgot one important thing. It doesn't matter at all whether I'm right or wrong, it only matters what Cas wants and what you want... but most importantly, what Cas wants."

"That's what it's all about!" he growled irritably. Because yeah, that's what it was all about. About what Cas wanted, or rather didn't want, and what he made him do. He didn't want to dwell on it any more.

Sam made the disgruntled sound he always made when he thought Dean had misunderstood something perfectly obvious, pulled his chair back and sat down.

"I talked to Cas last night about... that," Sam indicated vaguely with his hand, "He ambushed me in the hallway and was really, really angry. I mean, angelically angry. I can't even remember when he was that angry with me," he added with a bit of a frown, obviously disturbed by the memory.

Dean had to grin in amusement, regardless of how he felt. At first glance, Cas was the cutest, sweetest thing he'd ever seen, with his messy hair, crooked tie and gorgeous blue eyes, but when he got angry... really angry. Even now, sparks could literally fly around.

"And he wanted me to fix what I messed up..."

"You didn't mess anything up. I screwed up," he argued, all previous amusement gone.

"Let me do the talking," Sam said uncompromisingly, waiting a moment to see if Dean decided to speak again after all, and when he didn't, he continued. "Okay, so when he asked me to fix what I messed up, I did what I always do when something goes wrong; I researched. I've read all the books we have on angels, and aside from the references to the dangers of nephilim and the need to kill them preemptively, there's not much in there about... romance between humans and angels. The general consensus of the books is that unless an angel wants to create a nephilim, he doesn't get romantically and... seuxally involved with humans. So the books didn't help me much. Luckily, we have the internet these days," he said, pulling out the laptop he'd brought with him. "I'm not going to go into what I found when I tried to look up anything about romantic relationships between humans and angels, and get right to this." He opened his computer and there was already an open tab of some discussion board waiting for him. "When I couldn't find anything relevant to the supernatural, I figured I'd just try something... human. And I went to this forum." He pointed to the screen. "It's for people with a minority sexual orientation or gender identity."

He didn't have to say his 'What?' out loud, just a glance at Sam was enough to make his brother roll his eyes a little with a sigh.

"A forum for gays, lesbians and trannies," he explained curtly, and went straight on, "I posed as you... I mean, as a man like you, and I told them about Cas and..."

"Wait a minute; you told them Cas was an angel?" If he wouldn't read anything on a forum like this, the reaction to this certainly would.

"No, Dean, I described Cas to them there as a weak autistic asexual who is genderqueer but physiologically male."

"What?!" this time he had to say it out loud.

"You have to admit that Cas isn't the best at social interactions, hence the autism. And I still stand by the fact that celestials aren't very... sexual, considering - and this is something all of our books agree on - they don't have their own gender, they just take over the one belonging to the vessel they occupy."

Sam paused at that point, and as Dean knew all too well, he waited for his reaction about telling him that Cas wasn't actually male or female. In fact, Dean himself was waiting to see how his brain would react, but... no, it actually made perfect sense. He loved the giant cock-shaped celestial bolt, so why should he be surprised that the gigantic mass of holy energy had neither cock nor pussy. It sounded completely understandable in some strange way, or maybe it was the fact that... maybe it was the fact that he'd managed to pull his foot out of the closet for Cas, so why not go a little further. This was about his angel, after all. And if Cas loved him, even if he was just a tiny lump of flesh and puff of smoke compared to him, then why couldn't he love him for who he was - without cock or cunt.

"Yeah, okay," he said with a sigh, pushing his drink glass away from him before turning to Sam. "What did they tell you at the forum?"

A brief flicker of surprise crossed Sam's face, but it quickly turned into a soft smile, and Dean could have sworn he saw a glint of pride in his brother's eyes before he lowered them to the computer and with a few quick clicks scrolled the image on them. He quickly examined what was written on the page before looking up at it again.

"Actually, they told me quite a bit. There were several people who are like Cas... or a bit like him. And," he shook his head, "they've explained that even if they don't feel certain urges and don't purposely seek out... sex, it doesn't mean they don't have it or that it's necessarily uncomfortable for them. In fact, several of them have normal," he made quotation marks with his fingers at the word, "partners with whom they have sex on a regular basis, because purely physically it can satisfy them and... makes them happy to make those they love happy. And they don't do it out of obligation or self-denial, they just want to." He let his hands drop to his lap. "I'm saying that when I implied that Cas agreed to develop your relationship to... physical intimacy, he did it because you wanted it and without it doing him any good... I was simply wrong. I stand by the fact that it's not the same for him as it is for a human, but... this is brand new territory between you two. You're both probably going to have to deal with a lot of things... and I haven't been much help so far, which I want to change... just..." he sighed and rubbed his face. "Go to Cas and tell him that your little brother is an idiot who sticks his nose where it doesn't belong. That you love him and I... I don't know, talk to him about the dirty laundry I pulled up or not. It's up to you. You and him... you've been through enough shit to stand side by side. I guess in the end it doesn't matter that he's a gigantic sky dick in a body of a bitch and you're... well you... it just matters that you're together."

He'd rather kiss the harpy's ass than admit that Sam's words had actually encouraged him. He still had a twisting knot of self-loathing in his stomach, but fuck! He was right. The muck he'd been steadily working his way through over the past few years with Cas by his side would last ten lifetimes. They'd done it all together. And Dean had even managed to suppress years and years of fucking bad influence from hunters who weren't exactly hippies; no war, all love. There was nothing he and Cas couldn't handle together. This... this they could somehow give, too.

He could try not to be a complete clogged-up jerk and maybe even ask a little questions and listen. He and Lisa had already tried this harrowing journey and it had been... well, it had been pretty good, aside from the fact that talking about the future and serious things still made him a little sick to his stomach. Probably like eating one more chili burger than was healthy. But he could give that one. He could eat a hundred chili burgers if it ensured Case would be with him again.

"Yeah... yeah, you're right," he said slowly, the words coming out a little awkwardly, but at the same time he stood firmly with them. "I'm going after him."

"Are you sure it's safe for you to drive?" Sam asked, concern in his voice.

"Come on, I'm not drunk," he retorted as he reached for his cell phone and was already walking briskly towards the garage.

"Okay... be careful! And good luck!" He could hear his brother's voice behind him, but by then he was almost out of earshot and was just picking up the phone to keep Case in town.

°°0°°

When Cas said he was going to get groceries, he meant it damn literally. He just pedaled almost an hour into town, bought two full bags, exactly according to the list they'd given him, and then pedaled another hour back. Totally insane! But pretty normal for Dean. It also didn't surprise him at all that when he told him on the phone to stand outside the convenience store, that's exactly where he found him.

He was standing next to the entrance, two bags in his arms and his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.

He settled Baby into a vacant spot on the opposite sidewalk, turned off the engine, and stuck the keys in his pocket, planning to linger. To talk about... his gaze slid to Angel, who was no longer searching for who-knows-what in the clouds, but keeping his blue eyes fixed squarely on the Impala.

Dean licked his lips and swallowed.

In the faint autumn sunlight streaming through the gray clouds, everything seemed to be devoid of color. Just kind of gloomy... but Cas, though dressed a bit like a bum, stood out strangely from it all. It was as if he was filled with an inner glow that spilled over the orange wall behind his back.

Damn it! Actually, it was because... his wings. Ten! Ten lost wings, where one must have been a good eight to ten meters long, were still around. They were invisible, intangible, untouchable, but they existed, and the soft glow that seemed to be rising behind Cas towards the poorly lit sign was probably his wings. Because inside the guy with the supermodel's ass and muscles stretching in thin but firm ropes across his slender body was, in fact, a gigantic, two-headed bird. Actually, only one head was a bird, so the other wasn't.

Damn it! Oh, my God!

He tried to somehow turn his train of thought around that fact. Rewire his brain. Just to imagine such a being as Cas had described to him, standing somewhere behind his body, like some sort of shining shadow, but it was just so... fucking beyond anything he'd ever even tried to imagine , let alone see. And that he'd seen some weird shit. What bothered him the most was the fact that even though he held books with strange angelic depictions in their hands, he'd never actually realized that Cas must have actually looked like that.

It was just crazy, and when he added in Sam's ranting, it was...

But whatever. He was here, and no matter if Cas was a big dick in there, just the sight of him still brought that pleasant twist to Dean's stomach that was only spoiled by the lingering anxiety that he'd somehow hurt his angel. Unintentionally and unintentionally, but still... Encouragement from Sam and some bullshit on a geek forum couldn't rid him of that feeling. The only one who could possibly handle it was Cas.

He resolutely got out of the car and quickly ran across the road to the waiting angel.

"Hey Dean," Cas said in his deep voice, soft as velvet.

"Hey," he replied uncertainly, running his eyes over the bags he was holding. "Anything frozen in there?"

"Frozen?" Cas repeated after him, frowning as he looked into one bag and then the other. "No, there were no frozen foods on the list. Was I supposed to buy any?"

"No, just asking. Give it here." He took one of the bags from him and headed back across the road straight for the trunk.

He didn't even have to glance sideways to be sure Cas was following him, and waited patiently before opening the trunk and placing one bag inside, only to turn back for the other. Their eyes met.

As usual, Cas was too close, literally as close as the full bag sandwiched between their bodies would allow, and his breath, hot in the cool autumn air, enveloped Dean's face. It smelled of purity and ozone, just as the angel's kisses had. It had been so damn weird the first time, because no one could taste like purity and light, but now... it made sense somehow. The taste, it wasn't the taste of Cas's lips... well, the ones he could kiss... it was the actual taste of him.

It was, wasn't it? Could he taste all that heavenly electricity inside Cas's body like the taste of air before the rain? Yeah, probably her. That would make sense.

He realized he'd been staring for an inordinate amount of time at Cas's plump lips, inviting a kiss by the way they were parted in a slightly confused expression, accentuating the squinted blue eyes that followed Dean closely. He quickly averted his gaze and finally took possession of his bag properly.

Damn! He couldn't think about kissing Case right now, even though the thought made his knees tremble. He couldn't think about it until he was one hundred percent, completely and utterly sure that this was what Cas really wanted. He couldn't make the same fucking mistake again and assume instead of asking.

"Shall we have coffee...?" He asked, his tongue stiffening a little and his gaze fixed on the bags he was straightening in the trunk.

"Why?" Cas asked in return, cooling Dean's hopes and forcing his stomach to do another twist, but this one wasn't a good one. "It's going to take us a while, and I thought you came to get me because you wanted to get the groceries in the bunker as soon as possible."

He glanced quickly up at Angel, immediately realizing that Cas was dead serious about what he was saying too. Of course he did. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might run after him just to talk.

"I'm not here to spare twenty minutes," he replied with a little less trepidation. "I just want to... let's go get some coffee, Cas."

Angel tilted his head to the side a little, measuring him with an unreadable gaze that made him nervous for a moment before nodding in agreement.

"I'd love to have coffee with you, Dean."

Dean was relieved. He'd made the first damn move, and that was always the hardest.

A scant twenty minutes later, he walked with two paper cups to the bench that still sat next to the monument to the town's founder, which for a change was still in the middle of the only square in this backwater. He'd picked the spot because they had privacy and there was no way people would stare at them in surprise when they started discussing such bizarre things as whether angels had dicks or how a giant cock could want to fuck a tiny human. They already had a reputation here for being weirdos that people shunned, he really didn't need it to go so far as to get him thrown out of the convenience store with a lit bow next time.

"Here," he handed Cas a larger mug and then fumbled in his pocket from where he pulled out five small bags of Tabasco and dropped them into his lap. "And mind them. I took five fingers worth."

Cas frowned, of course.

"The condiments are free at the Pink Spoon," Cas pointed out, then quickly added: "But thank you for remembering."

"Cool," he chimed in, a small smile on his lips, because it always amused him when his angel did exactly what he expected.

He watched with equal amusement and lingering amazement as Cas set his cup down on the bench, popped the lid off, and then systematically emptied all five bags into it. Like Dean loved spicy, too, who didn't? But Cas's obsession with Tabasco and chili was completely out of whack. He'd said something about how things didn't taste as good with spicy as molecules, whatever the hell that meant.

His smile faded.

He was so used to Casm letting such weird stuff out of his mouth sometimes that he never really put it into proper context of who he really was. Not until now. Molecules. Jesus, how did angels actually see things around them when they looked through the eyes of their vessels? Cas said they saw his soul as a golden glow flowing out of his body. What else did he see? It must have been pretty damn weird and wonderful all together to be... an energy bird embedded in a human body and having to look at everything around him through someone else's eyes.

He slid his gaze to Cas's fingers gripping the wooden stirrer he was swirling in his cup. His hands were elegant, delicate and beautiful, but not feminine. Again, no. There was definitely nothing feminine about Cas, he could confirm that with a hundred-pointed certainty. But his hands were not deformed by hundreds of blows to some monster's jaw. They were perfect and pristine no matter what Cast did with them, even if he literally ripped someone's heart out of their chest. And he could really do that. He'd seen him do it before.

They were the hands of an honest, nice family man, except... they weren't really his hands at all. He had four hands, with one pair being of God's grace and the other pair being of God's wrath, whatever the hell that meant. All he could imagine underneath , were human hands big enough to put a king kong to shame and illuminated with the same light Cas could burn a demon's brains out with.

Tearing his gaze away from the hands he realized he had been watching for a ridiculously long time, he glanced at the empty road in front of him and slowly forced himself to lean back against the bench; the cup of warm coffee clutched in his cold fingers.

He could still feel Cas's presence to his right. It was quiet, still, yet palpable, like a piece of him was wrapping around Dean's shoulders... He froze. Damn... it wasn't just a feeling. It was the wings. Invisible, yet still there. Hugging him with them as he did... Dean suddenly realized he'd been doing this for years, damn it. Even back then, when Cas was still an obedient soldier of the skies, he'd felt this strange feeling on his shoulders and back every time they met.

He probably should have been angry, but he couldn't be, on the contrary it was somehow oddly comforting. Both the thought and the feeling he willingly gave into before slowly turning his gaze to the angel.

Cas watched him unmoved. He waited.

Dean knew it was up to him to say something, it was just so damn hard.

He cleared the lump in his throat, lowered his eyes to his own boots, and finally spoke:

"I talked to Sam."

"That sentence hasn't been doing any good lately," Cas said, and with anyone else it would have been a taunt, but with him? He meant it, and that made it all the worse.

"Yeah, I know, but..." he agreed, because yeah, last night really wasn't good. "He's right about something, okay? I've always known you weren't human, but it was never that I really... knew!" He emphasized the word as much as he could. "I never quite realized who you were, and maybe I didn't want to. I was much more comfortable just seeing you as a person, and then... when things started moving between us... I dealt with my own inner shit and didn't think about... you at all."

"I see," Cas responded almost immediately, his voice seemingly calm as ever, but some barb somewhere deep down made Dean finally look up to him and meet his blue eyes. "When I described my true form to you, you finally fully realized that I am not a human being and reevaluated your opinion of our relationship."

"No!" He exclaimed instantly, straightening abruptly; damn, he hadn't meant to give Cas that idea. He didn't want to break up with him, dammit. That was why he hated these stupid serious conversations. He was never sure that what came out of his mouth wasn't going to be completely misunderstood by the other guy, and so it was better to simply not talk about his... feelings and other shit.

"I don't care that you're a gigantic two-headed bird. I don't care. Yeah, it's... kind of weird, but... fuck, Cas..." he rubbed his face with a long sigh before continuing in a noticeably quieter tone. "I don't understand how myself, because all my hunter instincts should be screaming 'monster' at me, but no... I... you know how I feel about you, and nothing's going to change that, I'm just scared... " He slowly turned his head towards him. "I don't see how," he indicated with a hand between them, "you could really want that. I must be a speck of dust in the palm of your hand."

"Sam told you that?"

"Yeah... no... not really," he half-rejected. "He just helped me realize it, but I knew it a long time ago. Hell, Cas, I read all those books about angels too. I've also seen all those pictures of creatures with weird heads full of faces, wrapped in wings and arms like tentacles. Hell, I know it all and I've always known it and that's why..." he trailed off helplessly.

"If you want to know about... the anatomy of angels," Cas began slowly, after a brief pause, "I think only I can give you the answers to your questions. Not books. Not Sam. Only me."

Answers to questions? Yeah, he had questions. Questions of the stupid kind that nobody asked. He grinned ironically.

"Like, something along the lines that he might as well ask Hey, Cas, I know you're a giant celestia bird,but are you a man or a woman or something? Yeah, and do you really want to fuck me? Because if you do, it's pretty weird that a celestial bird would want to fuck a human," he asked sarcasm dripping from every word just to cover his insecurity and returning sense of self-disgust. And of course, he hadn't expected to get any answers at all, except that wouldn't be Cas if he understood sarcasm.

"Technically... in my true form I'm 'or something' and no, angels aren't in love with each other, if that's what you're wondering," he gave him the answer to his questions, his gaze fixed on his own coffee cup. "It's not because it's forbidden, it's because in our true forms we don't have... the organs to do so, nor any urge to procreate. But," he turned from his drink to Dean, an utterly serious expression on his face, "in this vessel... in my physical body... I am a man, Dean," he stated firmly. "I'm a man with all the trappings and necessities that go with manhood, and I think I've proven that many times lately."

"Yeah, definitely," he chuckled at the memory of the three times they'd demonstrated that very thing together. His smile, however, quickly faded as he felt a new insecurity at the memory. He didn't have the slightest impression that Cas had done anything he didn't want to back then, but he had to be sure. He simply had to ask. Hell, there was nothing else to do.

He set the cup down beside him and turned his whole body to face Cas so he could get a good look in his eyes.

"So you want this... I mean everything between us, including... sex, yes?"

"Yes, Dean."

"And you know you don't have to if you don't want to? All you have to do is say no... and by that I mean, anytime, in any situation, whatever we do, because you just say 'stop' and... stop. You... you know that, right?"

"I would never think anything else," he said, his tone very serious, but his voice soft, almost caressing.

Inner uncertainty kept him from believing and allowing himself to relax right away, but the longer he stared into Cas's eyes, the lighter he felt, until finally the weight slid off his back in a pleasant sense of relief.

"Fine. Fine," he uttered in a voice that sounded funny even to himself, so he allowed himself the freedom and chuckled before nervously ruffling his hair. "This... this was the weirdest conversation I've ever had in my life, and damn it, I don't ever want to have it again.

"I don't think... it will be necessary to have it again. Everything that needed to be said has already been said," Cas replied in a confused voice, that tiny wrinkle between his brows, the one he always had when he couldn't understand how people could be so uncomprehending.

It made Dean laugh.

"Come here," he muttered, grabbing the back of Case's head and pulling him close.

Without the slightest hesitation, Angel wrapped an arm around his back and came out to meet him in a kiss in which their lips connected. Not a very long one, because they were in the square of a goddamn backwater in a remote corner of Kansas and the last thing Dean wanted was for them to end up in a cell for public indignity or something. But that made their kiss all the more intense, full of the remnants of all the angst of the last few days, but mostly new hope of happiness and love and... stupid but nice things like that.

Eventually, Dean had to break their kiss, but he kept his forehead pressed against Cas's as he breathed in the warmth of his body and that familiar cleanliness tinged with the smell of pie... He opened his eyes and pulled away a little, his head only turning slightly to the side after that familiar feeling on his back.

"Are you... hugging me... with your wings?" He asked, and honestly, saying it out loud sounded really weird.

"Yes," Cas answered hesitantly, even as something like surprise flickered across his face, but immediately disappeared as he frowned. "Should I stop?"

"No. Never stop, Cas."

END