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By the time Dean finally emerges from his room after a day of beating himself up (and beating himself off; it's not easy having a massive crush on your best friend and not being willing to take that step), it's early evening and Sam is nowhere to be found. Castiel, however, seems to be sticking to his grudging promise of not leaving the bunker, as Dean finds him in the main room with a thick book open in front of him. The sight of Castiel just sitting there, squinting down at a book intensely with his dark hair all over the place, is enough to make Dean's stomach jolt pleasantly. But the rare sight of him without his signature trench coat on – in fact, it's hanging over the back of his chair with his suit jacket, leaving him wearing practically nothing in just his white shirt and blue tie – is practically like looking at him naked. Dean grimaces to himself at his reaction; his upstairs brain is telling him that he should just turn around and forget he ever saw this but his downstairs brain very much hates that idea.
He's debating the merits of going to take care of his boner versus sauntering in there and pretending that nothing's wrong when Castiel looks up and around at him. A small smile spreads across the angel's face.
"Dean. Did you have enough time to yourself to think?"
'Yeah, I was definitely doing a lot of thinking,' a small voice sniggers in Dean's head. Dean promptly shoots it with a mental gun.
"I – yeah," he says gruffly. "Just came out to – where's Sam?"
"I believe he went for a run. He also said that if you hadn't emerged from your room by the time he returned, he was going to order pizza so that he didn't starve."
Dean scoffed indignantly.
"As if I'd let that bitch starve. Well, maybe if he really annoyed me…"
Castiel gives him a less than amused look, though the effect is ruined by his twitching lips. Dean marvels at how much more emotion Castiel shows now than when the angel had first met him. All of a sudden, he wants nothing more than to just grab Castiel's face and kiss those upturned lips, maybe kiss him somewhere else as he –
"I'm gonna go rustle up some grub," Dean blurts out. "Yell if you need anything."
He makes a quick escape before his body can give away his current train of thought. He doesn't think Castiel can read his mind but the angel has always been freakishly intuitive when it comes to him; not to mention that Castiel can probably sniff out a boner from a mile away. He can probably smell the hormones in Dean's blood, for all Dean knows.
It takes him two minutes of rifling through the fridge – the fridge that Sam promised he'd restock but never did, the bitch – before he starts to have a good mental bitch fest about the lack of food. He knows it's technically his job to get the groceries, as he's the one who cooks, but dammit, he's allowed to complain! However, he strikes gold in the freezer in the form of frozen bacon, and he knows that they've got eggs and English muffins, so he'll make bacon and egg muffins for dinner. If Sam doesn't like it and bitches about how unhealthy it is, Dean will just show him the door.
It only takes fifteen minutes to fry the bacon once it's defrosted in the microwave. By that time, Sam's back from his run and he pokes his sweaty head into the kitchen and sniffs the air.
"Seriously? That's so unhealthy, dude," he whines. "I mean, it's bad enough for breakfast!"
Dean stabs a spatula at him.
"Are you the one cooking, Mr Health Freak?" he says. "No? I didn't think so. So get your ungrateful ass out of here and go shower or you can go hungry tonight. And if you want your health food crap, you do the shopping."
As Sam bitchfaces him and leaves the kitchen, Dean cackles. He hasn't been able to tell Sam off like that for years and now his status as the big brother in charge has been reinforced.
Once the eggs have been fried as patties in the bacon grease, Dean assembles six muffins – two for each of them, unless Castiel decides to forgo his and let Sam and Dean have an extra one each – and then he balances the plates and takes them out to the main room. Castiel is still reading and Sam's joined him.
"Dinner is served," he announces, setting the plates on the table. For all of his earlier bitching, Sam is quick to grab a plate and start to attack his muffins, while Castiel is more subdued in taking his food. When Dean sits down and takes the first bit of his muffin, he can't hold back the moan that slips out at the taste of the greasy bacon and eggs, and he suppresses a grin when he notices Castiel shift at the sound.
"Thought it wasn't healthy enough, Sammy," he smirks at Sam. Sam just shoots him Bitchface #32 and continues to eat.
"I'm not sure I like these molecules," Castiel announces. "They taste overly fatty. They would be much more palatable with fresh vegetables, like when you make your burgers."
"Can I have your muffins, then?" Dean says immediately. Castiel shrugs and pushes his plate towards Dean.
It doesn't take long for Sam and Dean to finish their dinner, with Castiel watching them intently. Sam offers to do the dishes and once he's finished them, he announces that he's turning in for the night. This leaves Dean and Castiel alone in the room together.
"Having fun?" Dean says after a moment, nodding at Castiel's book. Castiel shrugs.
"It isn't fun but it occupies my time. I'd much rather be outside the bunker but I know why I have to stay here."
"Right. Yeah."
They lapse into another silence. For a moment, Dean wonders when and why they got so damn awkward, but he already knows the answer: they got awkward the minute he said he loved Castiel. In a way, he wishes he'd never said those words and made their friendship – relationship – whatever this is between them – awkward, but at the same time, he knows he'd never take those words back.
"I'm gonna turn in too," Dean says quickly. "Need my four hours. Y'know."
"I know," Castiel agrees. He rises when Dean does, his eyes fixed on the man, and his intense gaze is making it hard for Dean to concentrate on not giving in and kissing the hell out of him when they'd agreed not to.
"Can you stop that?" Dean blurts out. Castiel frowns.
"Stop what?"
"Staring at me! How the hell am I s'posed to stay away when you look at me like that?"
Castiel's frown deepens.
"I don't want you to stay away. On the contrary, I want you. I want you with me. I want you to myself."
Dean groans and runs a hand through his spiky hair.
"I can't!" he snaps. "We've talked about this!"
"We have," Castiel agrees evenly. "But you are being incredibly self-centred, Dean."
"Me? Self-centred? Just 'cause you want to –"
"Nine hundred and fifty six," Castiel hisses. Dean splutters at being cut off.
"Pardon?"
"Nine hundred and fifty six. That's how many copies of you Naomi made me kill."
Dean grinds to a halt, staring at Castiel with a partly open mouth.
"I couldn't do it at first," Castiel mutters, almost as though he's talking to himself. "How could I kill you? Naomi knew that, of course. She made the first one easy. He didn't talk, didn't react in any way. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to do it. For every copy I refused to kill, she brainwashed me even further. Drilled into my head again and again."
"Cas –"
"It only took one hundred and fourteen copies for them to start expressing affection. I remember that number ninety six insulted me, called me useless and a whole barrage of names, told me everything that I know you are too afraid to tell me to my face. That one was hardest to kill, because I knew that everything he said was true. I received the most brainwashing for that copy. Naomi latched onto what he said and used it against me. By the time number three hundred and seventy said that he loved me, I had grown numb. I believed that I deserved this torture."
"Cas, please –"
"And yet, for all of her training, she couldn't stop me from listening to the real one. No matter how much she tampered with my mind, she couldn't break me. Not fully."
Castiel marches up to Dean and jabs him in the chest, his face stormy.
"So don't you dare think that you are the only one with problems," the angel growls. "I said that I would wait for you, but do you know how hard it is? I know rationally that you love me. But with every rejection – every time you push me away – I find it harder and harder to believe that you really do love me. With every rejection, you remind me of – of them."
Castiel looks away. Dean is alarmed to see that his lip is quivering, as though he's about to cry. But Castiel doesn't cry! He's Castiel! Dean feels sick to his stomach. How much crap must Castiel be going through to be close to tears? And yet, here Dean is, making it all about himself as usual.
"I can't do this anymore, Dean," Castiel whispers. "If you want me, tell me now. Let yourself have me. Let me take care of you. And if you don't want me, tell me so that I can stop wondering if you truly love me or if you are just – what do you humans say? Stringing me along. Every second that I have to spend in indecision is painful. I don't know how much more I can take of you claiming to want me, then pushing me away."
Dean tries to speak, but he can't. The words stuck in his throat, he reaches out and cups Castiel's cheek with one hand, caressing it gently. Castiel leans into the touch.
"I – God, Cas, I want you so much," Dean croaks. "I just…it's me. Not you. You keep flapping off and I'm terrified you're gonna just leave me. Everyone leaves me."
Castiel gives him a hurt look that makes his stomach lurch.
"I would never leave you, Dean," he says. "Not unless I was forced to. Not unless you didn't want me to stay."
"But I'm scared, Cas." Dean is ashamed of how his voice comes out in a whine. What the hell is this, Feelings Day? "You left me to go find your deadbeat dad. You left me to make some stupid deal with Crowley when I could've helped you, then you went all Godstiel mode. You left me in Purgatory – let me talk like we were gonna get out and get back to saving people and hunting things, when you intended to stay all along! You're asking me to just throw myself off a cliff without knowing what's at the bottom, when I've already thrown myself off other cliffs and gotten broken before!"
"But you can't just stay on top of this cliff and live in fear for the rest of your life when you know that I'll catch you this time," Castiel counters. "This time, there's nothing keeping me from you; not trying to find God, not the war against Raphael, not Purgatory. The only threat we face now is one that I won't willingly leave you for. And even if I was forced to leave, I would come back. I want you. You know I want you. I don't see what's so hard to understand."
"Of course you wouldn't," Dean laughs weakly. Castiel blinks and takes a step back and a mask slips down over his features.
"What does that mean?" he says coolly. Dean's stomach lurches. Here he goes. Time to do what he always does when he's scared: lash out.
"I – just that you're an angel," he fumbles. "You don't feel shit like we do, do you? I mean, Heaven's big on the whole 'no feelings' thing."
"Are you suggesting that I am incapable of feeling love for you as much as you love me?"
"What? No!" He's just digging himself deeper into this hole and he knows it.
"Dean –"
Before Castiel can finish his sentence, Dean grabs him by the face and crushes their lips together. He tries to pour every bit of what he feels for Castiel into the kiss but, to his dismay, Castiel makes a sound of disagreement and pulls away.
"That!" he snaps. "That is what I'm talking about! You ask me to wait for you, but you clearly cannot seem to extend the same courtesy to me! Do not think that I don't see how you look at me whenever I walk into the room! And yet I refrain from looking at you like I want to!"
"I didn't say you couldn't look!" Dean snaps. "I just needed time to –"
"To sort out your feelings. I know." Castiel gives a hysterical little laugh.
"Well, you clearly don't need that time! You know what you want, don't you?"
"If I allowed myself to admire you and your body as I truly wanted to, Dean, I would never have been able to hold myself back. Just because I know exactly what I want does not make me any less emotionally deep as compared to you."
Dean's stomach is sinking as he realises just how much his big mouth and self-destructive tendencies have screwed up.
"You think that because I am an angel, and therefore non-human, that my emotions are shallower?" Castiel says scathingly. "You are not the only one with complicated feelings. The difference between me and you, however, is that I don't feel the need to torture myself in order to realise what I want."
When he turns to gather up his suit jacket and trench coat, Dean finally finds his voice.
"What're you doing?" he forces out. Castiel gives him a dark look.
"I'm leaving."
Dean gives a nasty little laugh.
"Yeah, go on! Run away, like you always do when shit gets tough!"
"I'm leaving so that I can think! I cannot think with you here, distracting me and turning my thoughts against me!"
Horror curls in Dean's stomach as he realises just what's going on. No. Not again. Not this time. Not when it's this dangerous!
"No, you can't leave! You gotta stay here so the angels don't find you!"
Castiel's lip curls.
"Is that so? Watch me."
Before Dean can say anything, the sound of rustling feathers fills the air and Castiel is gone. Now that the anger is starting to fade from his mind, Dean's starting to come to the horrible realisation of just how much he's fucked up and, in desperation, he calls, "Cas!"
There's no answer.
"Cas! C'mon, buddy! Come back and talk about this!"
He's expecting the sound of wings again, and desperate anger fills him when he doesn't hear it.
"Son of a fucking bitch!"