Dean has thought about going to the beach many times before. When he was a kid, he pictured a traditional family vacation with sandcastles, saltwater, and Polaroids—a mental image that pretty much withered and died with his mom. As he got older, his idea of a vacation to the beach was one where his dad left to do whatever and he and Sammy could just be free for a change. That dream died somewhere between one apocalypse and the next, and Dean's sort of forgotten about beaches altogether at some point.
Recently, however, now that there's no ominous looming threat in sight, he's started picturing a beach vacation again. It'd be great; sand between their toes, water lapping at their feet, sunburns galore preceding a new wave of freckles before the next burn cycle… Hell, maybe he'd even bring along a couple of beach chairs and a freakin' beach ball if anyone asked nicely enough. Sand buckets, sandals, extra money for the ice cream he never got to enjoy as a kid… He even bought a swimsuit a while ago on a whim—just in case.
So, yeah, if someone asked what Dean's ideal first time going to the beach trip would be, it'd be something like that. What it would not be is hauling his ass all the way down to Fort Myers, Florida to go hunt down a witch that's been picking off couples at a resort like grapes off a vine, all ripe for the picking.
Freakin' witches.
As if that isn't bad enough, the witch seems to only be interested in couples. As in, two people in a relationship. To cover more ground, Sam and Eileen are going to pretend to be a couple except minus the pretending part. That leaves Dean with Cas—and don't get him wrong, he likes Cas. In fact, that's kind of the problem. He likes Cas. Like, really likes him. Probably way more than he should. And he has no idea how he's gonna survive pretending to be a couple when he kinda sorta wants to be an actual couple, deep down in some part of him that he pretends doesn't exist.
So yeah. Great. At least he doesn't have to pretend with Sam or something…
Still, that thought does nothing to help his current situation, in which he's in some smelly pawn shop looking for some cheap wedding rings for him and Cas. Sam the brainiac said he wasn't sure how well Dean could act on some crap and wanted to make sure people thought they were actually in a relationship. Sounds reasonable enough, except the little bitch had been smirking the whole time because he knows and Dean knows he knows and it's awful.
Dean eventually settles on two slightly worn silver rings and gets the hell out of there before his brain can catch up. But then he's confronted with a whole new problem in the form of Cas leaning against the Impala's passenger door and looking at this huge folding tourist trap map, circling places of interest with a bright yellow highlighter.
Dean thinks he might have forgotten they're actually on a hunt here, but doesn't really want to ruin it for the guy; besides, it's probably his first vacation ever. Then again, it's kind of Dean's first, too, since he doesn't think living out of bags of chips and cans of lukewarm SpaghettiOs in a tiny motel room in Colorado after his dad broke both his legs on some ghost hunt when he was nine really counts, no matter how cool the mountains looked…
"Find anything interesting, Cas?" he asks with just enough snark that it won't be detected. Probably. Well, on Cas, anyway.
"It says there's an aquarium here. And a lot of beaches, though we'd have to drive down to them," Cas informs from where his head is still buried in the map. Why he doesn't just use Google Maps is both a mystery and a tragedy Dean doesn't feel like thinking about today.
Dean stands there awkwardly for a minute, turning the stupid wedding bands around in his hand. It'd be impolite to just chuck it at him, right? Should he get down on one knee then, or…? It's not like there's a rulebook for fake proposing to your best friend to hunt a witch only interested in two-for-one deals…
Sighing in frustration, Dean simply grunts out, "Here." Cas looks up at him just as Dean hastily snatches up the hand not holding the highlighter. Dean carefully slips the band on his ring finger before dropping the hand like it burned him. "Fit okay?" he asks instead of something sappy or weird, though his face goes hot regardless.
"Yes, it fits fine. Thank you." Cas smiles at him briefly before going back to his giant map.
Dean puts his own matching ring on and gets in the car to try to catch up with Sam and Eileen, who are so obvious that they don't even need fake rings for people to assume they're together, apparently (personally, Dean thinks he and Cas have to be plenty obvious for practically all of Heaven and Hell to have noticed. Another part of Dean's mind yells at that part to shut the hell up).
The entire drive to the hotel, Cas alternates between looking over the massive map and looking down at his fake wedding ring when he thinks Dean isn't looking. Dear God. Not even the thousands of obligatory palm trees and orange juice advertisements can take his mind off of that. At least Cas doesn't try to hijack the radio like Sam does on long drives…
Everything is a thousand times worse when they meet back up with Sam and Eileen. Dean was momentarily placated by the amazing sandwiches Sam bought for dinner and the overall happiness on his and Eileen's faces just for being with each other, but he should've known his little brother had something up his freakishly long sleeve.
That something this time comes when Dean goes up to his and Cas' room, carrying up a bag in each hand. That's when he realizes there's a suspicious amount of space between the door and the bed. That's when he realizes there's only one bed, because of course there is. Damnit, Sammy.
Cas, of course, sees nothing wrong with this and sits down on the edge of the lone bed to keep going over that stupid map Dean regrets even buying for him. "So, uh…I'll go on the couch," Dean starts, because he's nice like that.
Cas glances up at him before apparently rediscovering his love of looking at him and keeping his eyes glued there. Finally, he asks, "Why?"
"There's only one bed," he points out slowly, as if Cas hadn't realized that yet.
For his effort, Cas just squints at him and cocks his head. "I don't sleep."
Dean feels strangely disappointed by this instead of relieved, as he probably should feel. "Right." He stands there awkwardly, swinging his arms a little, before nodding to himself. "Right," he repeats without meaning to. "Awesome."
Cas looks up at him for a moment, but doesn't say anything. Thankfully, there's a knock at the door, and Dean goes over to open it to let Sam and Eileen inside. Before he even sets his laptop down, the first words out of Sam's mouth are: "So, have you picked your sides yet?"
Dean pointedly ignores the question, though he privately hopes the complimentary breakfast is all carbs and grease just to piss Sam off. "How the hell are we gonna flush one witch out in a hotel this size? This thing's like a freakin' planetarium."
"There's a planetarium about four hours away from here," Cas states, and Dean glances at him for a second that turns into a minute as bright blue eyes lock onto him. "The Kennedy Space Center. It's one of the largest in the United States. I saw it on the map." Of course he did…
"We think the witch might be one of the staff," Eileen says after a moment, drawing Dean's attention. "There's been a steady string of deaths, and all of the victims were staying here."
"Most were found dead in their rooms," Sam adds, presumably looking at whatever article caught his attention this time on his laptop.
"Sounds like it could be a ghost," Dean says, sitting next to Cas on the bed if only to avoid intruding on Sam and Eileen's invasion of the small couch on the far wall.
"Not likely. Some of these deaths are…pretty gruesome." Sam's forehead creases over itself as he reads, "One of the victims was found with more than fifty snapdragon flower petals down his throat. Another claimed she was choking up, like, whole tulips for three days before she died."
"Wait, did all the victims' deaths have something to do with flowers?" This is sounding worryingly like some of the anime porn Dean would rather die than admit he watches…
"Uh…yeah," Sam answers, sounding surprised. "Huh. That's quite an MO." He types away on his laptop, hmm-ing and huh-ing to himself for a few minutes as Dean looks over some of the locations Cas has circled. What the hell is a manatee anyway, and why do they have to see one? "Wow. That's weird."
"What?" Eileen asks.
"There's a-a thing called hanahaki disease. It's this thing where people who suffer from at least seemingly unrequited love choke up flowers until they die."
Sam squints at his screen while Dean pretends he hasn't heard of it before. Cas, meanwhile, chips in with a solemn yet puzzled, "No such disease exists."
"Yeah, no, it's a fictional disease," Sam explains. "It's something for stories and stuff. But why would the witch be using a disease that doesn't actually exist to kill people?"
"Not sure. All we can do is try to stop her before she kills anyone else." Dean scowls at the national park Cas circled, saying, "Dude, no. National parks are boring."
"Some people enjoy them, Dean," Cas replies steadily, ignoring Dean's attempts at snatching the highlighter from him. "They're important for maintaining a balance in the ecosystem. Without them, many plants and animals' populations would be greatly diminished."
"Let's make sure to pay close attention during breakfast tomorrow," Eileen interrupts, nodding to Sam. "We need to make sure no one already has this."
So that's the plan, then. The only thing sitting between them and breakfast is a long rest Dean should be looking forward to, but isn't. He lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling instead of at Cas, who's sitting on the couch with his legs folded under him, doing a crossword puzzle from last Tuesday. In the dark. Like, pitch-black, complete darkness, but Cas had waved off his offer to turn on a lamp or something, so.
Really, the hotel room is the nicest place Dean's ever stayed in. White towels, white sheets, white pillows. Clean. The air smells like breathable oxygen for once instead of stale cigarette smoke or wet dog. The only problem is the massive bed and Dean's stupid pining ass being unable to take a damn hint. This would've been the perfect time to share a bed with Cas, and Cas all but turned him down. It hurts, but he's not gonna let it get to him too much.
See, Dean knows he likes Cas, and Sam knows he likes Cas (he's said as much more times than Dean can count, the bitch), and Dean's pretty sure Cas knows he likes Cas. Maybe. Dean knows that Cas likes him—how could he not when the guy literally Fell for him? Twice. Not to mention all the other crap in between that definitely qualifies for something beyond special treatment.
No, the problem is that Dean likes Cas and Cas likes Dean but Dean doesn't deserve Cas. Cas is a literal angel with a heart made of pure gold compared to all the other winged dicks up there, and Dean's just…Dean. He didn't even finish high school, never really had a real job that he could do tax returns on if he decided to be a law abiding citizen for a little while.
So Dean would rather just suffer in silence than make Cas be stuck with someone like him, even if that makes Sam shoot him weird pitying looks whenever Dean does something delving into chick-flick territory for Cas. And really, how could he not? It's Cas.
The next morning, Dean discovers the hotel's most redeeming quality is definitely the shower—the showerhead alone probably costs more than all the money Dean's ever had in any bank account at one time—and then he discovers the free buffet downstairs and he's pretty sure he's died and gone to Hotel Heaven at this point, even if the lone flower sitting in an ugly little vase on the table is in poor taste.
Except Cas is just watching him impassively from across the table, not saying a word and probably not even blinking as Dean shoves half of a cream cheese-coated bagel in his mouth. Which isn't unusual by any means, but given that he's supposed to be Dean's human husband (husband), he'd rather Cas do…not that.
At the table across from them, Sam and Eileen are being dorks and eating out of the same granola-filled bowl and talking in sign language—probably about them, or else they'd be talking aloud. Dean's the only one in the group that doesn't speak any sign language at all (though he's trying to learn, if only to avoid situations like this), so he's a little paranoid.
"What are they saying?" he finally asks as curiosity gets the better of him. "Is Sam talking about me?"
"They're talking about the witch, Dean," Cas replies without even looking at them. His eyes are laser-focused on the plate Dean had gotten for him to avoid suspicions, though Cas defiling his scrambled eggs with ketchup doesn't exactly make him look human.
"How do you know? You're not even watching them," he huffs, because it'd be such a Sam thing to do to talk about him when he's eight feet away.
And maybe Dean's a little on edge, but that's mostly because he knows how this whole hanahaki disease usually plays out (assuming the witch's MO is anything like what he's seen, at least), and it's not pretty. Looking around the dining room, he doesn't see anyone discreetly choking up any flowers or anything…
"Dean, are you all right?" Cas asks, squinting at him.
"Yeah, just a little jumpy." He shakes his head before nodding towards the plate. "Hey, try the danish." Cas obediently tries it, though he's frowning the whole time. "Well?"
"It's sweet," he concludes, saying nothing else about it.
"It's a pastry," Dean replies with an eye roll, though he drops the subject. "What's the plan for today? Wanna head down to the beach by the hotel?" That'd give them a good opportunity to check out the staff that are down there waiting with cold drinks, he reasons, though he knows that's not exactly why he suggested it. He's only human, damnit.
"Perhaps we could do that this evening. I've heard sunsets are more beautiful at the beach," Cas says, not quite meeting his eye.
"We could get Sammy and Eileen to join. More couples means a higher chance of getting found, right?" And Dean doesn't want to get found at all, but he figures it's either they find the witch, or the witch finds them.
So they waste the day just wandering around the area, spending a lot of time in the communal areas of the hotel. They reluctantly switch into swim shorts and tacky Hawaiian shirts and sandals so they stand out a little less in the crowd (though Cas looks like a bit of an alien out of his trench coat, a sentiment the angel himself seems to share). There's a lot to look at, and a lot of people in the area. Most people don't spare them a glance, but the ones that do pique Dean's curiosity considerably.
While they're checking out the absolutely packed hotel pool, Dean notices one woman staring right at them with a sneer, pool skimmer dripping as she removes leaves from it. Dean glares at her back, but quickly realizes she's glaring at Cas, which—how dare she? Freakin' homophobes.
He frowns and, thinking quickly and seeing an opportunity, grabs Cas' hand and takes it in his own, shivering when the cold metal of Cas' ring clinks against his (having no experience with wedding rings, he's not sure which one of them is wearing theirs on the wrong hand). Cas looks momentarily surprised before his face goes a little pink and he smiles, only to try to conceal it by looking down.
"Just trying to keep up appearances," Dean murmurs in his ear in a poor attempt at covering his very obvious tracks, because he doesn't think he's ever been so happy to do any sappy couple stuff ever.
He swears Cas' face falls a little in response, but before he can think about it much, he spots Sam and Eileen coming over. They're holding hands and smiling at each other in a way that's kind of weird to look at from the outsider's point of view. Or maybe that's just because Sam's his brother. Either way, while he wants to see them happy, he'd rather not have to see them up close when they're like this.
"Hey, guys," Sam greets, eyes locked on their joined hands. His grin widens because he's a little bitch. "You guys ready to go down to the beach?"
"Yeah, yeah…"
Dean keeps hold of Cas' hand the entire walk back to the Impala, only letting go so Sam can take the passenger seat as he usually does. The drive is a little longer than Dean thought it would be, and he feels strangely exposed in a pair of shorts and short sleeves instead of his usual multitude of layers, but the fact that everyone's dressed similarly makes him feel a little better. Besides, he doesn't think anyone can look more ridiculous than Cas in his bright pink swim shorts with flamingos and flowers on them (…not that Dean minds…at all…).
The beach is beautiful. The sand between his toes is just how he pictured it'd be, and Dean leaves the group for a minute just to walk along the edge of the water. He then discovers this awful sea slug that squirts out this purple gunk when he accidentally steps on it. That ruins his mood enough to go crawling back to the rest of his group, where he finds Sam and Eileen talking and smiling and being all couple-y and even taking pictures together and Cas…well, just being Cas and staring up at the sky with a pensive sort of look on his face.
They don't swim, but only because the water's freezing due to it being out of season. In fact, as the sun starts going down, Dean's exposed arms and legs just keep getting colder and colder—enough so that he allows himself to get a little closer to Cas, who's way warmer than he has any right to be. Cas, for his part, doesn't seem to mind, so he stays a little closer as they return to the Impala to start the ride back to the hotel. Dean's a little disappointed with the beach, honestly, but he's not unwilling to try a different one at some point when it's more in season.
They eat in the hotel's dining room in plain sight again, trying to keep an eye out for any suspicious looking people. To keep up the image of a couple, Dean holds Cas' hand across the table. Cas is really playing his part well, smiling again and looking down at the tablecloth and stealing bites off his plate. They keep holding hands all the way until they part ways with Sam and Eileen again to go into their own room. Not having any further excuses to keep holding his hand, Dean drops it and goes into the bathroom to prepare for bed.
Afterwards, Dean settles into bed and turns the light off, as if the darkness will better conceal his guilt. What is he even doing? He's playing a very dangerous game by letting his feelings take the reins, but…it's only for the case, right? He can at least pretend it is, though he feels strangely like he's leading Cas on, which makes him feel even worse. It's what needs to be done, but still…
Before he can mentally berate himself any further, Dean sees a shadow sweep across the room. He rises to his elbows and sees Cas quickly ducking into the bathroom and closing the door. Strange, considering he has no need to even go in there. Maybe Cas likes to make funny faces in the mirror or something to make up for the impassive one usually gracing his face…
The toilet flushes. Cas steps out, stumbling and swaying and looking kind of pale, and Dean sits upright in an instant. "Cas, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Cas replies on instinct, but Dean gets up to guide him to the edge of the bed with a hand on his back. "Dean—"
Dean ignores him and asks, "Are you hurt? Is your grace on the fritz again?" He presses his hand to Cas' forehead for a second, but Cas doesn't feel any warmer than usual, though he does slump forward into the touch and close his eyes. "Cas?"
"I'm…tired," Cas says slowly, as if testing the words.
"Rest then. Plenty of bed for both of us." Dean peels the blankets down and helps Cas take off the sandals he's still wearing for some reason and lie down. "How's that? Any better?"
"Mhm…" Cas' eyes close again, and he's out like a light in seconds, still in the same ridiculous outfit he was wearing earlier. Dean can't help but smile as he tucks the blankets closer to Cas before going back to the other side of the bed, making sure to stay on his own side, though he doesn't think Cas would really mind waking up all twisted together like a pretzel.
"'Night, Cas," he says, though he knows Cas can't hear him.
The next morning, Dean looks over to see Cas…asleep. It's such a strange sight, considering he's only seen him sleep a handful of times, and that was when his mojo was waning or missing or something along those lines. But Cas doesn't look like he's sick or hurt or anything. He just seems…tired.
So Dean lets him sleep, up until Sam starts banging on his door and throws around words like 'missing breakfast'. He's quick to wake Cas up after that, taking the time to take a quick shower and change his clothes before he and Cas (who has thankfully changed back into his usual trench coat) head down for breakfast, hand in hand.
Sam and Eileen are already down there sharing a meal; Dean decidedly doesn't meet their eyes as he goes to the bacon and eggs section and loads up his plate. He also gets Cas an orange juice because he mentioned liking the taste of the molecules once. A few bites into his meal, Dean notices Cas eyeing up his bacon, so, being a gentleman, he offers him a strip. Two minutes later, Dean's going up to get more bacon, since Cas apparently likes those molecules now, too.
But other than Cas' sudden interest in breakfast foods, breakfast is uneventful. The following day is equally uneventful. It's not until that night, in which Cas is inexplicably tired again (not that he said anything, the stubborn bastard; Dean can just tell) and Dean forces him to get in the damn bed before he falls over.
The next day, Cas continues his string of unusual behavior; that afternoon, he actually asks for a sandwich. A couple hours later, he starts sweating under the hot sun like the rest of them and takes his trench coat off. Sweating. That night, he even goes into the bathroom for a little while, doing God only knows what.
Dean keeps trying to come up with new ways to ask Cas about his grace, promising that he won't be upset and it won't be a burden and all kinds of things, but Cas remains firm in his stance that he's fine and everything is A-OK mojo-wise. Dean calls it crap, but doesn't say anything else, not even when Cas starts kicking the sheets off at three in the morning because he's hot, only to pull them back on at four because he's cold.
Cas keeps up this tight-lipped, no-problems-here attitude until he actually can't anymore, two days later. This comes when Dean, disturbed when he returns to the room with take-out a little earlier than he thought to hear Cas hacking up a lung in the bathroom, throws the door without knocking. It's there that he finds Cas on his knees hunched over the toilet, a couple yellowish-orange flower petals floating in the pink-tinted water below.
Dean immediately rushes to his side, patting his back until Cas coughs up one final petal before slumping against Dean's side, exhausted and out of breath. Dean, wide-eyed, can only stare at the toilet bowl in silent panic before helping Cas up and guiding him to bed. Once Cas is comfortable, Dean pulls out his phone and sends a picture to Sam, followed by about fifteen exclamation points and various curse words.
Dean goes back into the other room, finding Cas close to sleep. "Cas? C'mon, don't sleep just yet." Cas peels his eyes open, though he doesn't meet Dean's eye. "We gotta talk about this, man."
"There's nothing to talk about, Dean…" Cas grumbles.
"Dude. You coughed up half a dandelion in there, and there's nothing to talk about?" A thought occurs to him and his gaze sharpens. "How long have you had this, anyway? Since we got here?"
Cas doesn't say anything for a long moment. Eventually, he corrects, "They're marigolds, not dandelions."
Dean's hands drop to his sides. "Great. They're marigolds. Thanks, that's just what I wanted to know." Cas just huffs and looks to the side. "How long?" he grits out.
"How long what?"
"You know what, you stubborn son of a bitch, now how long?"
Cas is silent for a few seconds before replying quietly, "Since the second night…"
Dean sucks in a breath. "That was like a week ago, Cas! Why the hell didn't you say something?"
"Because I knew how you'd react," Cas huffs, like Dean's the one at fault here.
"Who is it?" he demands, but Cas stays resolutely silent. "Cas, so help me, who the hell is it?"
"It doesn't matter, Dean," Cas snaps, avoiding eye contact entirely—very uncharacteristic of Castiel the Laser-Eyed.
"Like hell. Don't you get that this is that hanky panky crap those people had before they died?" Dean decidedly doesn't consider the possibility that Cas might not want to… "We gotta fix this now, Cas, now who is it?"
"Dean," Cas just says in warning, sitting up carefully on his elbows, even as his entire body shakes a little. Dean opens his mouth to argue, only to fall silent as Cas starts coughing again.
It turns into a full-blown choke within seconds, and Dean can only let Cas brace his body against his chest and pat his back roughly in hopes it'll dislodge whatever is making him cough. By the time Sam and Eileen walk in about a minute later, there are two new marigold petals lying on the blood-speckled carpet and an exhausted angel slumping against Dean's shoulder with his eyes squeezed shut, panting.
"This is bad," Sam says intelligently after a few seconds, and Dean's eyes shift to glare at him.
"Y'think? Anything else you'd like to share, Professor?*"
Sam ignores him effortlessly, having grown used to this particular brand of Dean-attempting-to-hide-his-panic-and-worry over the years, and instead goes to pick up the flower petals, inspecting them carefully. Eileen takes a spot on the couch and opens Sam's laptop to start looking at something, and Dean carefully helps Cas lie back down.
"How long has this been happening, Cas?" Sam asks.
"Since the second night we got here…"
Sam's eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn't say anything about it. "Okay, well, didn't you just cough some petals up in the bathroom?" Cas just blinks, eyes wide and lost. "And if you're already coughing up more…" His eyebrows squish together now. "For some reason, you seem to be really affected by this, Cas—maybe because you're an angel?"
"Great," Dean hisses to himself, shaking his head. "We gotta find that witch—now."
If there's one thing Dean's learned from all his years of hunting, it's that things never end up working out when he's desperate. This is a problem, seeing as how ever since he saw that first petal crawl its way out of Cas' throat, Dean's been pretty freakin' desperate to find the witch.
To make matters worse, Sam made him stay with Cas after Dean had snapped at someone that was obviously withholding information. Taking Cas for a drive away from the hotel had done exactly nothing, as he's already been infected, and Dean's running out of options—and Cas is running out of time.
So now he has to watch Cas get paler and paler with each new petal he chokes up. This time, he's choked up four, and Dean's decidedly not trying to figure out what that means as he helps Cas back to bed, lying a washcloth over his forehead in hopes it'll help with his more flu-like symptoms.
"You three should leave before you're affected," Cas rasps out for the fourth time in an hour. He's started shaking, and Dean's hoping it's just because he's cold or something. That hope shatters when Cas, skin shining with sweat, kicks the blankets off.
"Not gonna happen, buddy," Dean replies again, pulling the blankets back up. Maybe he can sweat out his fever and the flowers causing it? Or…do flowers grow more when it's warm?
Cas grabs Dean's wrist, his red, watery eyes solemn if unfocused. "I'm serious, Dean. One death is preferable to four."
Dean, in a moment of courage (or stupidity), takes his wrist from Cas' grip to hold his hand instead. That shuts him up, at least. "I'm serious too, Cas. That's not happening."
Dean sits beside the bed in a chair that makes his ass ache until Cas starts shivering violently even under all the blankets, in which Dean gets into bed and tries to use his body heat to warm him up with minimal effect. By the time Sam and Eileen come back hours later, Cas is asleep—which is concerning, yeah, but at least when he's sleeping, Cas doesn't look as miserable.
"Find anything?" Dean asks quietly. It's telling that Sam doesn't even take a second to smirk at him when he's practically wrapped around Cas.
"We have some suspects," Sam replies, going to the couch to look at something on his laptop. "Nothing concrete, but, uh, maybe the lady at the front desk? I don't know, she looked at us funny when we were asking her questions…"
"You mean questions about people starting flower gardens in their guts?" Sam rolls his eyes and looks back down at his laptop.
"How is he?" Eileen asks gently, nodding towards Cas.
"Not…not good," Dean manages through a tight throat. "Are you even sure it's a witch?" He's done three thorough sweeps of the room and hasn't found a damn thing.
"No," Sam admits, quiet and worried. "We snooped around in a few of the rooms and found what could've been the start of a hex bag under one of the beds, but other than that… But, uh, according to the…lore, there are some cures." Dean already knows the cures and has ruled them out as impossible; the only thing that can help them now is finding the witch or god or whatever is responsible.
"Cures?" Eileen repeats after a long bout of silence.
"Yeah. There's supposed to be some surgery available in the worlds where hanahaki exists, which obviously doesn't apply here, but apparently, having whoever the victim is in love with verbally confess their love in return is supposed to cure it." Sam squirms uncomfortably. "Dean?"
"I don't know who it is," he snaps, feeling angry and hurt as he realizes just what that means: Cas is in love with somebody and it isn't him. Otherwise, he would've said something the first time he coughed up a petal, right? It's pretty obvious how Dean feels about him, after all… "Son of a bitch won't show his cards."
Sam looks at him sympathetically, and maybe he should. Maybe Cas knows about Dean's feelings and doesn't feel the same. Maybe persistent avoidance and refusal to answer is Cas' way of letting him down easy. Well, he doesn't feel any less hurt over the realization, that's for sure.
Really, maybe Dean shouldn't have been surprised when, just as he finishes taking a leak for the night, he starts coughing. It starts off with the feeling of something stuck in the back of his throat, but when clearing his throat doesn't work, he starts hacking over the edge of the toilet until something finally dislodges and he can breathe again.
There, floating on top of the water, is a single tiny, yellow flower.
Dean's heart drops. A few seconds later, Cas starts choking again from the other room. Dean's never called Sam faster, and Sam's never barged into a room faster. Sam fishes the flower out of the toilet (ew) while Dean sits on the edge of the bed shaking as Cas coughs and coughs until a third marigold petal comes up.
"It's a hyacinth," Sam says quietly after a few minutes of scrolling on his phone and looking at Dean's lone flower; in the hotel room's tiny kitchenette, Eileen's making them tea, like that'll soothe their coughing. "They…represent devoted and over-the-top love, but also, uh, jealousy, when they're yellow."
Great. As if the ever-present ache in his throat wasn't enough, now Sam's just announcing his deeper and more suppressed feelings like they're nothing. Dean pointedly doesn't comment, feeling bitter but drained as he accepts Eileen's tea. They all know the tea won't help him or Cas in any way, that the only thing left to do is look for the witch or roll over and die. He's not sure why they're pretending.
"A new victim was found last night," Eileen tells them. "Her husband's been cheating on her and she found out a few days ago. They're blaming the husband, but now that his wife's dead, he's starting to show signs of hanahaki. The…the witch is still here, at least. That's…a good thing, right?"
It doesn't feel like a good thing. That makes victim number five, and by this point, Dean's wondering how the hell people are still at this resort enjoying themselves with the increasing death toll overshadowing everything. Isn't anyone panicking and wondering if they're gonna be next? If Dean were here for normal reasons, he would've gotten the hell out of dodge as soon as the first body dropped…
Sam clears his throat, and he looks up, feeling…detached. "Dean, can I talk to you outside for a sec?" He begrudgingly follows Sam outside the door, trusting Eileen to look after Cas, and the first thing out of Sam's mouth is: "It's Cas, right?"
"What? No!" he blurts out on instinct, but he can tell Sam's not buying it and honestly, Dean's a little past caring at this point. Dean just sighs and amends quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, it's Cas."
"You should tell him before it's…too late." Sam visibly cringes. "Seriously, though. What are you waiting for?"
"Cas doesn't like me like that," he snaps with not a little bitterness, even though it's not Cas' fault he doesn't like him. It's not like Dean's the most eligible bachelor on the planet… "I thought he did, but—"
"Dean, he totally does," Sam cuts in, looking confused. "He literally gave up the home he's had for thousands of years for you, Dean. He defied God and became an outcast to his family for you."
"Yeah, okay, I'm a dick. What's your point?"
"My point is that you need to go in there and talk to him." Dean rolls his eyes and grumbles and tries to go back inside, but Sam's having none of it. "Dean, this is killing both of you! I'm not just gonna sit back and watch two of the people I love the most do this to themselves!"
"Geez, Sammy, pipe down before you wake up the whole floor," Dean mutters, somewhat ashamed. Sometimes, he forgets Cas is Sam's friend too, just like he forgets that there are people that care about him and his fate. "Look, I'll…I'll try, okay? Just gimme some time."
Sam flashes those stupid puppy-dog eyes and nods a little. "Yeah. Yeah, just be careful, okay?"
Dean spends the next twenty-four hours alternating between taking care of an increasingly weak Cas, coughing up his own flowers, and thinking about how to go about the whole…acknowledging feelings thing. Every time he tries to work up the courage to say something, he thinks about what'll happen if he says something and Cas doesn't feel the same—nothing.
Nothing…Dean can't live with nothing. He'd rather not say anything than risk Cas confirming that he doesn't feel the same. So he doesn't say a word about it and gets sicker and sicker as the day progresses, and by the next morning, Sammy has to help him to the bathroom to take a leak.
"Guys, this isn't working," Sam says, and yeah, no kidding? If Cas weren't an angel, he'd probably be dead by now, and if that thought doesn't shake Dean to the core, he doesn't know what will. "We're not making any progress, and you guys," Sam pauses and looks at Dean, but Dean only manages to weakly shake his head. Still, it's enough for Sam to sigh and finish, "you guys are only getting worse."
"Maybe we should look into the staff again?" Eileen suggests before there's a knock at the door. They've had the do not disturb sign up since the first day, so it's not the cleaning crew. All of them freeze, and Sam and Eileen grab weapons and stalk towards the door while Dean rolls over to try to shield a flushed and barely-conscious Cas, gun in hand.
Before anyone can even try to open the door, the thing bursts open and slams against the wall as a lady Dean kind of recognizes steps in. With a wave of her hand, Sam and Eileen are hitting one wall while their weapons hit another. "Of all the people I've dealt with, you two have got to be the most stubborn."
She's scowling at them, clicking the final lock into place. "Pool skimmer lady?"
The lady rolls her eyes but ignores the remark, stalking closer. "Right, backstory time. My ex cheated on me so I cursed him with some disease from that anime porn he was so obsessed with, and only after he was dead did I start to really heal. A couple years pass and I do it again on another ex, and that's when I realized how many cheaters there are in the world. And what better place to find them than a couple's resort, hm?"
"You bitch," Dean grits out.
"Wow. Never heard that one before. Anyway, I've been knocking cowards off for a few weeks before this little morsel walks in." She reaches over to touch Cas before Dean tries to shoot her, only to realize his gun isn't even loaded. "I've never encountered an angel so enraptured by a human before…"
"Don't freakin' touch him," Dean growls when she leans over again, but the pool skimmer lady just smirks.
"Oh, and I can't forget about the returned affection from his little hunter, either. Honestly, it's just pathetic at this point."
A gun clicks, and Sam's right behind her, no longer near the wall. "Give us the cure. Now."
"These dumbasses had the cure all along. The feisty one even watches that crap—he knew what was happening before any of you did. If he and the pretty one just talked to each other for five minutes…"
A shot rings out, and the bitch drops. Cas starts coughing again, and Dean helps roll him onto his side as another petal falls, but the coughing doesn't stop. Another one comes up, then another, a thin mist of blood decorating the sheets in front of him. By the fourth, Cas' face is worryingly pale, and just as Dean opens his mouth to maybe blurt out an untimely confession, he himself starts choking.
Someone pats his back roughly, words and demands reaching his ears but never fully heard. He knows what people would be saying, though, and that's either 'breathe' or 'say something'. Confess, confess, confess…
"Dean," Cas says in a gasp, and Dean glances over with watery eyes to see Cas' face as white as the sheets, making the red blood staining his lips look even darker. "Dean, I…I love you."
Dean sucks in a lungful of air and really starts hacking. "I-I…you, too," he only just manages to get out, invoking an even more powerful coughing session for both of them. Dean's vision starts wavering as he struggles to take in air, and all he hears before he passes out is a plethora of worried voices and Cas coughing up a lung beside him.
When he wakes up, everything is weirdly…still. The only thing he can hear is his own breathing, and everything around him—the walls, the curtains, the bedsheets, the ceiling—is a prim and proper white that he's not really used to. It puts him on edge and he squirms a little under the thick white comforter until a hand gently rests on his own.
Dean turns his head to the side to see Cas already looking at him, face exhausted and five o'clock shadow darker than usual, eyes a soft but tired bright blue. Without thinking about it, Dean rolls right into Cas and yanks him in a hug, only realizing afterwards that they're both in only their underwear but not even caring.
"You're such a dumbass. You're such a stupid dumbass," Dean whispers into Cas' shoulder as the angel hugs back weakly. "You went through a week of Hell just to make me more comfortable."
"You went through two days of it," Cas replies with not a little sass.
Dean just holds him tighter. "We're both dumbasses, then."
"I prefer…afraid. Less dumb, less ass…"
Dean almost makes some comment about Cas' ass and just what he thinks of it, but stops himself at the angel's wavering tone. Afraid. Cas was afraid to tell him, and assumes that Dean was, too. "It's not that," Dean sighs, pulling away from Cas enough to look him in the eyes. "You deserve so much better than me, man. You're an angel."
"And you're Dean Winchester," Cas returns, frowning. "And I'm…I'm not a good angel, Dean. I'm…"
"Yeah, you're right—you're the best angel." Cas' frown deepens, and Dean has half a mind to kiss it away. He settles for kissing Cas' forehead, instead, and the weary look disappears. "Look, you…you're it for me, Cas. Neither of us think we deserve each other and it took flowers sprouting from our guts to talk about that."
"Sam says we're hopeless," Cas remarks, and Dean rolls his eyes.
"Speaking of, where is he? And Eileen?"
"They're disposing of the witch. They should be back within a few hours, and then we'll be able to return h…to the Bunker."
"You can call it home, Cas—it is your home, y'know…" A thought pops into Dean's head and he sits up, peering down at Cas' bright eyes. "Is the breakfast buffet still sending food out?"
Cas squints, puzzled, but answers, "Yes, I believe so. It finishes at ten."
"In that case, throw some pants on. I dunno about you, but I'm starving." Dean yanks open his duffel bag and rifles through his clothes, grabbing himself an outfit and carefully holding a pair of shorts and a shirt out for Cas, who takes them with a soft and gooey sort of smile, the sap.
They'll have to really talk about what everything means, he knows, but until then, they hold hands all the way from the elevator to the dining room, their fake wedding bands clinking together because they're still not wearing them both right. Dean loads up his plate and Cas steals food off of it, and Dean gets Cas bacon and orange juice for his fancy angel tongue's dining pleasure and nearly spills them both all over the floor when he catches sight of Cas, all decked out in his clothes along with that damn trench coat, subtly shoving the lone flower and its ugly vase behind the salt and pepper shaker display.
They go down to the beach for a little walk after that, and in the early hours of the day, it definitely seems more beautiful than it was the last time they were there, even without a sunrise or sunset. Nobody bats an eye when Dean kisses Cas along the shoreline since the resort is filled with couples, but Dean has no reason to look at them when he can look at his angel's flushed face and bright eyes instead.
Later, when Sam and Eileen return ready to get out of Fort Myers, Dean greets them while holding Cas' hand. He knows they both see it, but neither of them comment on it. On the way home, they do end up stopping at a national park, and Dean gets directions to a great beach in the area as he's browsing the tourist trap gift shop for a thank you gift for Sam after all the years of third wheeling he's had to put up with.
Dean's first experience with beaches and something resembling vacation might not have been all that great, but with his family close by and all sorts of new possibilities on the horizon, Dean's willing to give it another shot, even if it is still too chilly out to properly enjoy the water lapping at his feet or his toes in the sand.
They'll make it work, just like they always do.