Part Three
Dean woke before Sam did, his giant of a brother snoring softly in the armchair. "Hey, Sam," Dean poked at the taller man's arm. "Sammy!"
Sam sat bolt upright, looking around the room wildly. "What happened?" he asked.
"We fell asleep," Dean hid the smile he felt coming.
Sam stared at him for a second, shocked. "God dammit!" he yelled, jumping up. "What time is it?"
Dean checked the phone he had placed on the table. It read 3:45. He relayed the time to Sam and he groaned. "That's it," the younger Winchester huffed. "I'm having this room checked for gas leaks. Something isn't right."
"Did you have any weird dreams?" Dean asked, snatching up his things and following Sam, who had just barreled out of the room.
"No, nothing," Sam threw back over his shoulder. "Did you?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nope, just sleep," Dean shrugged.
The next morning, Sam called the theater's maintenance crew and had them check Dean's dressing room. Dean was moved to a different room for several days, which felt strange and foreign. He had come to associate the room with Cas, and now he felt lonely. Still, he only had to wait one week to see Cas this time.
He auditioned for Hairspray! next, but asked Kripke for a slightly smaller role than he usually got. "I just need a little break, and then I'll go for whatever you want me to play," he told him. Kripke acquiesced and gave him the part of Corny Collins; it was a decently sized role, but not a lead.
The entire week, Dean was restless. He barely slept, and when he did, Cas' voice echoed in his head. He kept thinking about those words, resonating all the way to Dean's core. Are you falling in love with me, Dean Winchester? As he thought about it, the answer morphed from 'I don't know' to 'maybe'. If he didn't feel so strongly about Cas, why would his stomach knot up just thinking about him? Why would he have such intense physical reactions to his words? Why, for the love of god, would he center his life around someone who kidnaps him and refuses to show his face?
They had their second rehearsal that Friday, the day Dean was put back into his old dressing room. "I'll be out late, Sammy, don't wait up!" Dean had told his brother.
"Going to see someone special, are we?" Sam grinned and elbowed him in the ribs. Dean laughed, but didn't reply.
All throughout rehearsal, Dean was anxious. He was only called out once, when he zoned out for an entrance. Thank god he had a minor role.
"Hey, are you okay?" an actress named Jo asked him.
"Yeah, fine," was all he could say, tapping his foot restlessly.
When the rehearsal was over, Dean bolted from the room. He scarfed some food down a block from the theater, then snuck back into his dressing room. Unsurprisingly, there had been no gas leaks. Less than an hour until midnight, he thought. The food might have been a bad idea; the butterflies in his stomach made him nauseous. Get it together, Winchester, he thought, setting down his phone.
Dean laid out several different outfits in anticipation for seeing Cas again. Cas seemed to like seeing Dean in different clothes. The Winchester sat on the couch in the garb he wore for rehearsal: sweatpants and a t-shirt. In front of him was a suit, too formal, jeans and a button up shirt, too normal, and a few other pieces that he suddenly didn't like. He sat, brooding, when he heard it all too soon: humming.
All thoughts about clothing were lost as the music floated through his mind. His eyes glazed over and he followed Cas' call.
There he was, same position as every time before. Compared to the last few times, it felt like minutes since he had seen the room. Still, his heartbeat sped up and his stomach flipped like a gymnast.
"Dean," Cas' voice instantly relaxed the Winchester.
"Hey, Cas," Dean smiled at the air. "I, uh, forgot to change, sorry," he nervously tugged on his shirt.
"Don't be," Cas' voice was so warm. "It makes you look at home here. Do you feel safe here?"
"Yes," Dean replied immediately. Despite everything Gabriel had said, Dean felt an overwhelming sense of right in this place.
"I'm glad you suggested to shorten the waiting period between our visits," Cas said as Dean began to walk. "I grow anxious the longer you are away."
"Tell me about it," Dean murmured, finding the chest of drawers from a week ago. Climb over the wall and he'd be in Cas' little room. Dean looked at the ceiling. "Cas, can I...?"
He seemed to get the message. "You may." Dean clambered over the mountain of props and into Cas' "bedroom." It was tidier than Dean's last visit; the wardrobe was upright and closed, the books were shelved neatly away, and the bed was made.
"It looks so clean," Dean teased, running his hand along one of the posters of the bed.
Cas sounded a bit embarrassed. "I thought I'd tidy up a bit, um, in case you wanted to visit this corner again."
"Good guess," Dean smiled.
"Sing to me."
"What would you like to hear?"
Cas was quiet for a moment. "Something that makes you think of me."
Dean leaned against the poster. What did Dean think of Cas? He had pondered the question more times in the last week than he had pondered anything in several years. Cas was a recluse, someone who, to his knowledge, only interacted with Dean. He hid himself, refused to be seen. Dean knew that to be a sign of fear or hatred of oneself. He had been this way for a while because the angel legend was very old. He felt negatively towards himself, and yet he was kind. He gave tickets to orphans. He saved people from life threatening situations. He somehow obtained money to save the theater.
Dean knew that Cas was more than he was treating himself, and the thought saddened Dean. The Winchester knew self-hatred, his father had taught him that much, and he couldn't wish that sort of shitty feeling on anyone, least of all Cas. He didn't know how, but he wanted to show Cas that he thought he was more. He wanted to show Cas that he should accept himself, or forgive himself, or do whatever needs to be done to rid him of this need of the dark.
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night," he sang softly. "Take these broken wings and learn to fly." Yes, this song reminded him of Cas. Cas was always so in control, ordering this and demanding that, but he was always so mindful of Dean. He praised him and gave him gifts, in his own way. He wanted, needed, companionship. And he found that in Dean, who was very willing to give it. "You were only waiting for this moment to arise." The room went quiet.
Dean heard a sharp exhale of breath. He wasn't exactly sure what that meant. "Turn around," Cas commanded softly. Dean obeyed, wondering where Cas would direct him next. After a moment, a soft thump sounded behind him. "Dean," Cas said. The voice was directly behind him, no echo or movement. Cas was actually there.
Goosebumps erupted over Dean's skin, and he stood stock still. Cas was right there. Cas was right there. Dean wanted to whirl around and see what he'd been imagining for over two months, but he didn't want to spook him. "Can I see you, Cas?" Dean's voice was rough.
"Why did you choose that song?" Cas asked. His voice sounded more human behind Dean, less frightening and more alluring. Dean could hear the slight rasp in the low bass voice. A little shudder ran up his spine.
"It makes me think of you," Dean answered carefully. "because for whatever reason you hide in here, I think you deserve to do whatever you want. To fly."
There was a long pause, the only sound Dean's labored breathing. Then, four words that sent his heart into his throat. "Look at me, Dean."
Dean closed his eyes and turned slowly until he knew he was facing Cas straight on. He opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was blue, the startling shade of deep blue that one might find in a clear ocean. He knew he could easily get lost in the blue, but his need for more drew his eyes away. His nose was perfectly straight, leading Dean's eyes down to pale lips. They were full, with a perfect cupid's bow. Messy dark hair stuck up on his head, the same color scruff dotting his jaw. A strong jaw at that. Dean momentarily wondered what it would feel like under his fingertips. He followed the long column of throat down to a clasp of a lumpy black cloak. The fabric hid most of his body, but a thin stripe of skin trailing down to the waist of his slacks told Dean there was no shirt beneath the cloak.
"Stop that," Cas said. The lips moved and skin worked over the jaw and the voice came out, that disembodied voice he'd been dreaming of for months. The sight combined with the sound set fire to Dean's nerve endings.
"S-Stop what?" Dean stuttered.
Cas' eyebrows drew together. "Stop biting your lip, it's distracting."
Dean pressed his lips together, unaware he was even biting them in the first place. Cas was gorgeous.
"You're gorgeous," Dean echoed his thoughts. "Why would you want to hide?"
Cas let out a heavy breath, Dean's eyes immediately snapping to the rise and fall of his chest. The blue eyes closed and Cas' head turned away from Dean, as if he was bracing himself. His hands rose to the clasp of the cloak, long, elegant fingers swiftly freeing it of it's bonds. He let the cloak slide off his shoulders. Dean marveled for a moment at the sharp planes of Cas' stomach, skin stretched tightly over perfect muscle, the two lines from his hip bones disappearing into the waistband of his pants.
Dean spent maybe two seconds appreciating Cas' form before he saw a twitch in the darkness behind Cas. "Do not run," Cas commanded, eyes blazing. Ever so slowly, huge, jet black wings extended from his back, spanning around ten feet. Dean's breath caught in his throat. The wings were glossy and smooth and absolutely...
"Beautiful," Dean repeated, mesmerized.
Once again, Cas' brows drew together. "What?"
Dean was only partially aware that his feet were slowly carrying him towards Cas. "Blackbird," Dean murmured. "I get it." The dark feathers were almost as mesmerizing as his voice. The blue-eyed man's face was unreadable as Dean stepped right up to him. Dean's hand rose towards one black wing and stopped cold as Cas growled. He growled.
Dean looked sideways at Cas, who didn't meet his eyes. After a moment of stillness, Dean's hand moved and brushed the feathers lightly. They were incredibly soft. Cas' eyes dropped closed and he unmistakably shivered. The Winchester reached up further to run his fingers through the feathers, but Cas stepped back quickly.
"My turn to observe," he said. "Stay still." Dean froze. He felt Cas' eyes rake down his body like nails. The man circled him slowly, observing, as he said. Dean's eyelids closed as Cas stepped behind him. A warm finger touched Dean's shoulder and slid down his shoulder blade before disappearing. He could feel the heat radiating off of Cas and struggled to control his body's response. There was a touch on Dean's inner arm, and Cas' fingers slid down to his wrist, which he turned gently until Dean's hand was palm-up. Dean's eyes finally opened to see Cas stroke his fingers one at a time before letting his hand go entirely. Blue eyes traveled up his chest to his collar bone, which he traced lightly. Dean couldn't repress the hitch in his breathing as Cas' skin made contact with his neck. Their eyes locked again, and Cas swiped his thumb across Dean's lower lip, which parted automatically. Though he was the one wearing the most clothes, Dean had never felt so exposed, so intimate.
"You are exquisite, Dean," Cas murmured, finally stepping back. "So much that you cannot know the meaning." His wings fluttered close to his back.
"Cas," Dean whispered, still breathless.
Cas' head tilted slightly. "Yes, Dean?"
Dean laughed nervously, picking at the hem of his shirt. "I don't know, I'm... I guess I'm kind of speechless." He swallowed thickly. "Can I touch your wings again?" Cas nodded almost imperceptibly.
Dean approached Cas again, less afraid. The looming black wings quivered ever so slightly, betraying Cas' nervousness. His eyes were curious now, staring at Dean without the glare of a predatory animal.
Dean's fingers touched one long feather, rubbing it between his fingers gently. Cas' breath hitched. It felt like strands of silk molded to look like a feather. Dean pressed his fingers more firmly through those feathers, stroking carefully from the top to the bottom of the wing, and Cas' head fell backwards, a little noise escaping his throat.
Dean's other hand came up to the neglected wing and traced around to where wing met skin. He felt pressure on his hips, Cas' fingers gripping in an almost bruising hold. The touch sparked electricity under Dean's skin. He ached for more.
"Do you like this?" Dean asked, not even trying to hide his grin.
"It feels... very pleasurable to me," Cas growled.
Dean could almost feel his eyes darkening. Feeling bold, he grasped a handful of feathers and tugged. A small cry escaped Cas' lips and his hips twitched forward, his eyes screwing shut.
Dean's entire body was tingling, his face surely flushed. "Cas," his voice already sounded wrecked. "You're gorgeous."
"No one has ever said that to me before," the blue-eyed man shuddered as Dean's hands left his wings and opted to trail down his arms. Cas' hands rucked up Dean's shirt to slide over his skin.
"Well they should." His hands stopped. "Have you ever been touched like this before? Or, uh, other kinds of ways?" God that sounded awkward, but Dean wanted more and he wouldn't push this man if he didn't know what he was getting into.
"No," Cas replied, "but I am not ignorant to the mechanics of such things."
Dean chuckled at his formal words. "Um," Dean muttered, suddenly shy. "Do you want to...?" He didn't even know exactly what he was asking. Did he want a kiss? More? Cas seemed to know even if Dean didn't.
"I've wanted to for several weeks now," his voice dropped even lower, but he let go of Dean. Dean was immediately cold. "Do you want to?"
Dean sighed contently. "God yes."
He couldn't look away from those blue eyes. Cas' hands ran up his chest over his shirt and drew up to Dean's face, fingers tangling in the dirty blonde hair. Dean heard the blood rushing in his ears as Cas tilted Dean's head and slowly brought their lips together.
God, Cas' lips were so soft. He smelled like freshly lacquered wood and rose petals and something spicy, Dean felt like he would drown in it. Cas' lips parted and that was all the incentive Dean needed to surge forward, deepening the kiss. He nipped as Cas' bottom lip and when the man gasped, he slid his tongue ever so carefully inside. Dean's arms wrapped around Cas' waist and Cas' hands tightened in Dean's hair. Dean shivered as the winged man moaned, vibrations rocking him straight to his core.
Cas mirrored his movements and bit Dean's lip. Dean's hands rose up and grasped Cas' wings. Suddenly, he was pushed back against a wall, Cas' body pressed against his. "Fuck," Dean moaned as Cas attached his lips to Dean's throat. That had gone from zero to sixty in no time flat, and Dean felt a fire spark in his stomach that told him, more!
"I like the color this makes," Cas murmured, nipping at the skin of Dean's throat. Cas angled his hips and both men cried out as their erections brushed together.
"Ungh," Dean choked out, almost overwhelmed. "We should be horizontal."
With a flutter of wings, Cas gripped Dean's hips and he was hoisted up into his arms. The blue-eyed man crushed their lips together and didn't stop until Dean was set comfortably onto the bed.
"Take your shirt off," he commanded, kneeling on the bed beside Dean.
The Winchester struggled to comply, yanking off the offending garment and tossing it somewhere off the bed. Cas loomed over him, staring. His wings spanned to their full width, almost possessively. "Perfect," Cas murmured, tracing the hard-earned lines on Dean's stomach. He struggled not to squirm under Cas. When the blue-eyed man's hand spread flat on his chest, Dean reached up. "Be still," Cas commanded again, pushing Dean back onto the bed.
Dean gripped the sheets below him, staying down no matter how badly he wanted to touch Cas. He hovered over Dean, never bringing their bodies together. Dean inclined his head and Cas acquiesced to his wordless plea; he kissed him softly. His demeanor had changed, all the aggressive power had melted into gentle commands.
"Cas," Dean gasped when he moved to his neck.
"Yes, Dean?" Cas pulled his earlobe between his teeth.
"I... uhhh," he gave a breathy moan and Cas chuckled against his collarbone, sending low vibrations through Dean's body.
Cas switched directions and moved slowly down Dean's arm, kissing and nipping, copying every motion that earned him a moan. He was a fast learner. An openmouthed kiss was pressed to Dean's wrist, and Dean couldn't help carding that hand through the dark hair. Cas hummed against Dean's wrist, then repeated his entire process with the other arm.
"Stay," he told Dean when he tried to get up.
"You're killing me here," Dean huffed, forcing himself back onto the mattress.
Cas pressed a quick kiss to his lips and then, painstakingly, made his way down Dean's chest. His tongue laved over Dean's jugular and found some choice pieces of soft skin, kissing and sucking until a pretty purple bruise lay at each one. "Mine," he whispered into Dean's skin.
Dean hadn't known his nipples were so sensitive until he felt Cas' hot breath on them. He was slowly losing his ability to speak, and arched off the bed when the blue-eyed man sealed his lips over one. He moved so slowly- it was agonizing. The talented tongue made its way down Dean's taut planes of muscle.
At this point in time, Dean had abandoned the sheets and was gripping the headboard tightly, doubting his willpower. As Cas moved to lick at his hipbones, Dean began to sweat. "God, Cas, please," he begged as Cas' face hovered over Dean's straining erection.
Teasingly, Cas slid the elastic of Dean's sweats down his legs and onto the floor, followed quickly by his briefs. The Winchester lay there completely bare and already shaking. Cas rose slowly, standing on top of the bed gracefully. His wings flexed as he popped the button on the black slacks, blue eyes boring into Dean's. The pants were dropped. Apparently, Cas went commando.
Dean licked his lips. Cas' length was a bit thinner than his, but longer. It looked diamond hard and Dean had the immediate urge to swallow it down. He sat up, but before he could reach for the winged man, he was pushed back down. "You're going first," he growled.
Dean made a choked noise and lay back, bunching a pillow behind his head so he could see exactly what Cas was doing. The man ran his fingers up and down Dean's hipbones, then gripped them tightly in his hands and held them down. Hot breath from Cas' mouth ghosted over Dean's member, making him shudder. Cas then licked a long stripe up the underside of Dean and closed his lips around the head.
"Ahh, fuck," Dean moaned. Cas' mouth was so hot and wet and- shit! Cas slid his mouth down several inches and sucked inwards. Dean let out a wordless plea when Cas repeated the motion, painfully slow. He couldn't help it anymore; Dean's hands immediately knotted in Cas' raven-black hair, gripping tightly to anchor himself.
Cas continued the slow torture and Dean's hands wandered down Cas' neck, searching for the top of his wings. They were sensitive, and he wanted Cas to feel the slow burn that he was giving Dean. After a moment, he found the soft feathers and pushed his fingers through them.
Cas moaned deeply around Dean, and the vibrations nearly sent Dean over the edge. The green-eyed man cried out, grasping the wing more tightly. His fingers raked towards the middle of Cas' back and stopped when they felt something round and slick.
Dean ran a finger over the little nub and Cas gasped, pulling off Dean completely. Curiously, he pressed more firmly, ripping a desperate noise from Cas' throat. His fingers were definitely slick with something, and a delicious aroma was gradually filling his nose.
Cas was frozen above him, panting. Dean retracted his fingers, examining the shiny substance. It smelled sweet and enticing. Without thinking about it, he put his fingers into his mouth, sucking the slippery substance off. It tasted like honey and made his insides tingle. Cas growled and Dean's head snapped up, the predatory gaze returning.
Without preamble, Cas gripped the back of Dean's thighs and pushed them up to his chest, exposing him completely. Something warm traced his tight hole and he let out a breathy whimper. That was most definitely Cas' tongue. The whimper urged the other man on, and Cas pushed more firmly against the puckered skin. White hot lines of fire burned up Dean's insides as Cas licked him thoroughly, hands holding his thighs firmly though Dean's hips were unconsciously bucking upwards. Dean was burning up all over, unaware of his desperate babble of, "CaspleaseohgodCasfuckpleasepleaseCas."
He was only vaguely aware of Cas reaching behind himself and grunting into Dean's skin. When the warmth disappeared, Dean let out a surprisingly high pitched whine. The whine was choked off when Cas' finger stroked Dean's relaxed hole, slick, sweet oil seeping into the pink skin.
"You must tell me if you are uncomfortable," Cas growled out, voice almost as wrecked as Dean felt.
"Don't stop," Dean gasped, attempting to push his hips up, needing more. "Don't you dare stop."
Cas licked his lips and pushed passed the first ring of muscle, earning a whimper from Dean. Ever so slowly, he slid his finger all the way inside the Winchester. "Oh, Dean," he breathed, wings arching at the thought of him inside that tight heat.
"Pleasepleaseplease," Dean's voice was high pitched and breathy. He needed more, more. Cas added another finger and spread them, widening the entrance a bit. He changed angles and Dean cried out, hands fisting in Cas' sheets. Nonsense syllables fell from his mouth. Cas watched, transfixed, as Dean came apart under him. A third finger was added, the slippery oil now dripping from his entrance. "Cas please!" Dean sobbed, almost pulling hard enough to rip the sheets.
"Yes," Cas rumbled, removing his fingers and slicking up his own length in his oil. "Yes, Dean." He let Dean's legs down and they immediately wrapped around his waist. The blunt head of Cas' member rested against Dean's entrance.
Dean was about to whine when Cas didn't move, but the blue-eyed man instead brought his oily hand up to Dean's mouth. "Lick," he commanded, and Dean eagerly lapped every bit of slick from Cas' hand. When it was clean, the slender fingers slid into Dean's hair. Cas blanketed Dean and kissed him, slowly and deeply.
Dean gasped and bit down on Cas' lip as he sheathed himself in Dean's heat. "Fuck," he repeated Dean's vernacular. Dean's hands scrambled for purchase, settling on Cas' wings. He pulled out, ever so slowly and pushed back in, wings flexing under Dean's fingers.
"God, Cas," Dean breathed, reveling in the sweet burn that inched up his spine. Cas set a slow, punishing pace that left Dean sweating and shaking beneath the winged man. Cas mouthed around Dean's neck, kissing and nipping as he moved. "More, please, Cas," Dean begged, raking his nails down a shiny black wing.
Cas gasped into Dean's neck and slammed his hips forward, hitting the sweet spot inside him. Dean cried out wordlessly, grip tightening in the feathers. Cas' speed increased rapidly, finding Dean's prostate with nearly every stroke. He felt like he was going to split in half, and it was delicious.
"Dean," Cas murmured, "My Dean."
The green-eyed man was so close, so very close, and he needed Cas to come with him. With his last bit of clarity, he felt along Cas' wings to the little nubs and pressed down, hard.
A feral kind of cry ripped out of Cas' throat and he rammed into Dean one last time. The warmth and the sweet honey smell pushed Dean over the edge untouched, muscles tightening as electricity hit his core.
After a few minutes, he felt Cas' forehead drop onto his, the other man's arms shaking. "C'mere," Dean slurred, pulling Cas down next to him and gently sliding off his softening member. Cas seemed to be in shock, unable to speak. He just looked at Dean, pulse racing. It struck him then.
Have you ever been touched like this? Or, uh, other kinds of way?
No, but I am not ignorant to the mechanics of such things.
Cas had been a virgin, and that put a stupid grin on Dean's face. He threw his arm around Cas' middle, fitting his head under his chin. "That was amazing," he said to Cas' chest. At once, he felt the man's muscles relax and an arm wrap around him.
"It was good?" Cas asked quietly, wiping Dean off with a bit of fabric and pulling the blanket up and over them.
"The best," Dean sighed. "You're a quick learner."
Cas chuckled, tucking his wings securely around Dean. They lay like that for a moment before Cas began singing softly. Dean felt his eyes droop. "Wait," he pushed himself up to look at the blue-eyed man. "I don't want to fall asleep. I want to hear you sing the whole time."
Cas pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead and began to sing again, this time, in english. His voice was a little less deep now, a little more gravelly. "As long as he needs me..." It was a song from Oliver, one that Dean hadn't heard often, but in Cas' voice, it sounded like the greatest song in the world. "As long as he needs me, I know where I must be. I'll cling on steadfastly, as long as he needs me..."
The song finished beautifully, and Dean felt himself holding Cas tighter in his grip. Somewhere in the song, Cas began to card his fingers through Dean's hair. Dean envisioned Cas in his room, making food in the morning in his kitchen, laughing and walking down a street, holding hands. The idea of Cas with him every day, being together made his heart flutter. He had been fighting them for a while, but when it came to feelings with Cas... he was gone. Dean hadn't been in love for a long time, but this felt a hell of a lot like it.
"Why do you hide, Cas?" Dean asked.
Cas' fingers stopped. "You see me differently, Dean," he sighed. "You said 'beautiful' when you saw my wings. When I was younger, people said different words." Dean propped himself up to look at Cas, but the blue eyes refused to meet his. "I was told I was a demon child, that I was unnatural and evil. My wings were broken and bound and I was sent to live in a monastery when I was five. I had no parents before that." He closed his eyes. "I was taught to hate myself, to think that I could never repent or be loved. The more I was told I was bad, the more I believed it.
"After several years, the monastery was abandoned and I was sent to live in the basement of a catholic church down the street from this theater. The nuns were afraid of me, and beat me. One day, I snapped." Cas was silent for a long time, but Dean couldn't bring himself to break it. "Twenty-three people died in the fire," he whispered. "The church was closed, but the basement stayed untouched." He swept his hand around them. So this was the church basement.
"I sealed myself in, prepared to die for what I'd done, when I heard the music coming from down the street. There's a little tunnel that leads to the theater from here, I don't know why. I figured out that if I stay out of sight, I can watch the plays. They made me feel whole again, and so I stay hidden and watch."
Dean let out a breath and felt wetness on his cheeks. Tears; he was crying. "This is why I brought you here after Les Mis," Cas continued, meeting Dean's watery gaze. "You were out of place at first, but you are so beautiful. I saw how fierce you are, how courageous, and thought: that is who I want to be. I brought you here to observe you, but I have received much more than that."
Dean couldn't help himself. He surged forward to claim Cas' lips, attempting to convey his sorrow and acceptance and love. There was gentle pressure on his cheek, Cas' thumb wiping away the tears. "I love you," Dean muttered to him.
Cas' breath hitched. "And I you, Dean."
They stayed like that, tangled together until Dean drifted off to sleep naturally.
