AN:
I just really want to start off by sending out a warm and cuddly, internet thank you to all those lovely people who came and volunteered to beta read for me. I did not expect that many people to offer their help and it was a little overwhelming.
In the end I ended up with the lovely and talented inappropriately-ginger, and with any hope she will be my navigator for the rest of this journey.
Also, so many lovely reviews came to me from the last chapter and a surprising number of people who professed to have read the whole thing in one sitting, or even multiple times. Ya'll make me blush... you know who you are. One day a curly haired, Welsh girl with too many freckles may find you and hug you in a fierce manner- but don't worry. It's just me.
Thanks again, all you lovely, lovely readers. You're making my hectic mid-term exams feel a lot less painful.
any hoo, I'll stop prattling and give you what you came for. A chapter.
My gift to you.
Dean had done something bad. This was a very nonspecific sort of happening for him, as most of his life was made of one bad decision, action, idea, or choice endlessly queuing up behind and before him. But this particular life decision looked to be ranking in the top five of Dean's own personal 'bad plan' hall of fame.
The morning after his and Cas' little heart to heart (and not exactly consensual decision to be friends), Dean had realized all too quickly that it was not a choice he was prepared to live with for any length of time.
He did his best after waking to avoid Castiel, because honestly, he wanted to take back everything that he had said the night before-to pull the confusing man close and just burry his face in that petal soft hair, and hold him and touch him and taste him and he wasn't sure if that was a good plan or not. He had only known the Angel for two weeks and despite Dean's regular track record, the intense attraction had not started to wane in the slightest.
Dean was a man with a short attention span when it came to intimacy. He liked his relationships like he liked his convenient stores. He liked to get in, get out and move on with his life. Physical gratification was just a pleasant necessity that didn't require much thought, and actual romance was a waste of time. You didn't need much more than a good pickup line and a bit of a swagger to get the sort of company that would last a few heated hours in the backseat of the Impala or a skuzzy motel room.
And at some point before falling asleep, alone on his cot, he realized that that wasn't the sum and total of things he wanted Cas for.
He wanted the Angel for the sorts of things he used to have his brother for. Someone to ride shotgun beside him, someone watching his back during a bar fight, someone laying next to him watching him work on his car and hanging on his words like he was somehow important. But it was more than that, because aside from all those things, he wanted back that time they were sitting in the Ford. He wanted to share food (actual sharing, not stealing like he did with Sam), and watch the sky, and crack jokes and kiss like it was the end of the world and there would never be anyone else- and that was somehow ok.
Dean had not slept well, because his last thought as he lay his head down, had been that he had it unspeakably bad for the Angel already asleep upstairs. And not just a typical sort of bad that he was accustomed to, which he could just take in stride. No, because that would have been manageable - something he could work with or around. It would have been too easy to just have a normal, little crush on the man.
Instead, he wanted to do something stupid like hold hands, or buy a puppy together. It was a two week old friendship and he was already prepared to pick out curtains. There were not words in any language to describe how much this realization troubled Dean.
Neither of them were mentally in the right sort of place for the type of relationship that he found himself strangely pining for.
The Angel was obviously broken. His bosses had torn out his batteries and thrown him away. Then there was the being held captive by questionable entities for a year and pursued across many state lines with malicious intent. That topped with what could best be described as intense Angel puberty, made for an excitingly unorthodox cocktail of a bad plan.
The man was far from top condition. He wasn't even close to firing on all eight cylinders. If Dean did suddenly scoop him up and demand that they enter into a bro-mance to end all bro-mances, it would be unfair for both of them.
So he did his best to avoid the Angel and any accidently-unwarranted professions of longing, but he didn't have to try that hard. Castiel had not moved from the couch where Dean had left him the night before, still wrapped in his blanket and half snoring away with soft puffs of air on each exhale. Gabe was sitting beside him, eating a bowl of Froot Loops in what looked to be chocolate milk and was watching some sort of courtroom TV show with screaming plaintives and bad dye jobs. He grinned up at Dean; little flecks of brightly colored crunchy cereal bits between his otherwise white teeth.
"Mornin', cowboy." He nodded to the battered old chair on the other side of the room, inclining for Dean to take a seat. "My baby brother smells like cheap bourbon and marshmallows and he slept in his shoes, so I am assuming things went well for you two last night."
Dean frowned, glancing at the prone figure that seemed completely oblivious to them. If he had noticed the Angel still wearing his shoes when he curled up on the couch last night, it was very possible that Dean would have taken them off for him.
Domesticated Dean Winchester.
Now that was a truly frightening thought.
"Well, he was a little drunk and very tired and explained to me that your bosses are all asshats." He sighed as he lowered himself to recliner.
"True." The blonde pointed at Dean with his milky spoon. "But that's not new to me. What else you got?"
"Apparently he told them they were asshats and they kicked him to the curb."
Gabe looked down at his brother with something akin to pride. "Fuck yeah, Cas." He whispered in an awed sort of voice and then grinned at Dean. "My baby brother is all grown up."
"Yeah, sure." Dean was really ready for this conversation to be done. He had told all that he knew and he was worried that; if given the opportunity, he might just say more than he wanted. His thoughts were a churning mess and felt like they would take any chance they were given to spill out of him in a torrent of word vomit. If today was the day that he professed his gay-as-rainbows feelings, he wanted it to be towards a specific Angel, and that was not Gabriel.
"He give you anything else?"
"Nope. I asked about the rest and he basically told me to drop it."
"Ah well. I still think you're the man for the job, Winchester. Just keep plugging away." Gabe smirked at Dean. "I think he might have a bit of a crush on you. He'll cave eventually."
"Excuse me?" Dean didn't actually want any clarification. He was fairly certain of Castiel's feelings towards him, even if they did feel a bit unearned and possibly grossly misplaced. But, damn it, he was Dean Winchester and he had a reputation to live up to. He couldn't just sit there and nod knowingly whilst giving Cas' sleeping body moony-eyes. Even if it was tempting.
"Don't get all… how you boys get." Gabe rolled his golden eyes. "Where we come from we're not used to people being nice to us. Imagine our patch of heaven is like the military, but with wings and no secret gay sex. As such when we come down here it's hard not to get a little flustered by the first person not giving you the cold shoulder."
Dean didn't mean to glare so fiercely, but he did. Not that it made a difference.
"Honestly, I thought you were pretty hot shit when you pulled me out of that basement and patched me up. Like my own personal knight in shining Chevy." He drank the last dregs of milk from his bowl and set it on the floor beside his bare feet. "We just all assume that humans are selfish apes, and there you and your brother are, risking your lives, saving people and never expecting any sort of reciprocity- it's a bit hard for us not to get distracted while all our preconceptions are falling apart due to your boyish charms."
"Are you trying to say that you have a crush on me?" Dean felt his lip curling up as he leaned as far away as his chair would allow.
Gabe laughed - happy, wild, and none too quiet. Cas grunted, but didn't seem ready to wake, and his older brother bit his lip to stifle his sounds of amusement. "Oh, God no. I had a bit of a crush on you. HAD. I got over it real fast. You were small potatoes once I met your brother. He's one of those intellectuals. You know- a lover, not a fighter. Also, he's a demon in the sack."
"First off: eww." Dean scowled. "Are you even allowed to talk like that?"
"Technically? No. But as long as the Angel Police don't catch me, I'll be all right." He was still grinning, possibly at himself, but most likely at the look Dean was giving him. "What I'm trying to say, is that Cassy will get over his little crush too, so don't stress about it too much if you notice him giving you pretty eyes- but use it to your advantage. He's a lot more likely to give you answers before he realizes how much of an ass you are."
Dean was rhythmically rapping his thumb nail against his ring, making soft pinging sounds and trying with all his might to set the little Angel on fire with his mind. It didn't work, which was good, because Dean wouldn't have known what to do if it did. Maybe check the kitchen to see if there were any marshmallows left. "You're going home to Sam soon." It wasn't a question.
The Angel rolled his bright eyes, obviously amused by Dean's veiled threats. "Yeah, yeah. I miss my sasquatch." He stood and it didn't honestly make him that much taller. "I just need to make sure that my brother's all right; lay some proper wards around this place, yadda, yadda, yadda." He rolled his long fingered hand through the air, tilting his head. "I can't just leave him like this, not when I don't know what sort of trouble he's in. He deserves somewhere safe. I owe him that much."
Gabe picked up his bowl and for a fragile span of seconds Dean understood the blonde Angel perfectly. He was a bit of a prick, but he worried about his kid brother. The two of them had that much in common and Dean found he could feel a fragment of respect for it.
"I'll see what I can get out of him." Dean grumbled. It was an olive branch. He didn't have to like the man, but they did have the same end goal in mind. They could work together to help Cas.
"I know you will, tiger." The little Angel winked at him and sauntered to the kitchen. "Oh, and be a dear and go grocery shopping this morning? I don't think Cassy's eaten in a few days- it might be why he isn't waking up."
"What?" Dean stood, looking between the two angelic creatures in confusion and concern.
"You heard me," Gabe called over his shoulder, getting himself out a beer from the fridge and popping the cap off with his thumb. "I've been trying for a few hours to get him up. And I got nothing."
"You don't sound all that worried." Dean's feet had carried him closer to Cas' sleeping body. He looked fine, at least he was breathing if that was any indication.
"He could just be really tired. These are vessels, not proper human bodies- they don't exactly run on normal clocks. But your old man friend said he hasn't given Cas anything other than soup two days ago." He licked the lip of the brown beer bottle. "Unless you've been feeding him?"
Dean felt guilty. So very guilty. He hadn't even thought about feeding Cas. He was so used to just taking care of himself, and if there ever was another person with him they typically did the same. Sam had never been shy about making his hunger known. But maybe Cas didn't understand hungry. Maybe the Angel didn't know how to recognize an empty stomach and simply would ignore the pain until he passed out.
"Get a mix of things. I don't know what he likes, but if we can put the right sorts of foods in his face, he might get up. It's hope."
"Hope?" Dean found his boots where he had kicked them off beside the couch and pulled them back on. "Again, for someone who is supposedly worried about his brother you don't sound all that upset."
Gabe grinned. "Hey! He's sleepy, not bleeding. It could just be the drain from losing his Grace again. How should I know? I'll start to really worry if he's still not up by tomorrow." He leaned against the kitchen table, watching Dean as he struggled with his laces. "While you're at the store, get some soda or brownies or something. All this house has is old man food... also known as cheap beer. It's depressing."
The guilt got him to the local grocery store, but it was the niggling man-crush that made him stop at a diner before returning to Bobby's. He stomped back up the porch, the afternoon sun bright, but not offering the slightest bit of warmth. He had forgotten his jacket and was glad to bridge the distance between the car and the house.
He made a b-line to the kitchen and shoved a paper bag of cavity inducing confections into Gabe's waiting arms.
"Oh! Happy Birthday to me." The Angel murmured to his bag of goodies, giving Dean absolutely no attention whatsoever, and that suited the hunter just fine.
He took the second and much smaller bag to the living room and set down on the floor beside the couch where Cas was still unconscious. Dean pulled out a burger, wrapped in grease stained white paper, and had to resist taking the first bite. He still had not had any breakfast, and according to the clock on the wall it was past two, and his stomach was making itself known through low, rolling rumbles.
The Main Street Diner was a place special to Dean's heart. Bobby had never been much of a cook and when the young brothers were left in his care, more often than not they went out to eat. When they were particularly well behaved, they would go to Main Street. Best God damned burgers outside of Texas.
"Hey, Cas." Dean nudged the sleeping man with a shoulder. "Present for you." He held the half unwrapped burger before the lax face and was delighted to watch the Angel stir. It started with his nose, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. Then it was his lips, parting just enough to let his tongue dart out, leaving a thin sheen of moisture. It was beautifully hypnotic and inviting. Dean almost dropped the burger, and what a waste that would have been.
The Angel was making soft noises somewhere in the back of his throat - little broken sounds like he was trying to speak, but was too tired to form any actual words. His sterling blue eyes opened just enough to focus in on the burger inches from his face, and he smiled at it like an old friend; pale hands emerging from the blanket to wrap around the offering of sesame bun and charbroiled beef. Dean helped him to sit up and guide the food to his waiting mouth.
He aided the eating process for no good reason other than he was really enjoying being that close to the other man's face, sharing air; their hands touching warm and solid. And, seeing as Cas' eyes had drifted back closed while he slowly chewed, Dean assumed that no one would begrudge him stealing a bite or two. He bought the burger after all and damn it, he was hungry.
But those eyes opened again and they shone dangerously, but Dean already had his teeth around the food and he wasn't going to let go even if he was being growled at. He took his bite and grinned, without offering a single apology.
Cas pulled away, taking the food with him and tucking his knees up to form a sort of protective barrier between himself and the thief. He eyed Dean warily and slowly chewed, never blinking.
"It lives." Gabe announced cheerily from the doorway, grinning at his brother, holding a bag of frosting covered animal crackers. "And it eats burgers?"
"Everyone eats burgers… you ass." Cas whispered around his last mouthful.
The stunned silence was broken when Dean laughed.
"I used it right, didn't I?" Cas finally blinked, seeking assurance from the mirthful man beside him. "You ass … it's correct."
A thumbs up was all Dean could manage through the tears of laughter.
"Typically you would spice it up by making it into a 'dumbass', 'smartass', 'jackass'- something a bit more insulting and specific to the person." Gabe instructed with a surprisingly straight face.
"I apologize, I am still new to this." Cas narrowed his eyes slightly. "Everyone eats burgers, you short ass."
Despite the fact that Dean had been on the verge of recovery, he promptly broke back down in a renewed bought of laughter. Gabe simply grew a strange expression and remained silent as he stepped back into the kitchen and out of view.
"Are there French fries too?" Cas had lowered his knees enough to lean towards Dean and the greasy bag at his side.
"Onion rings." Dean said with a smile, fishing in the bag and holding out a golden, crispy ring.
"Do I like these?" But even as he asked, he took it from Dean's hand, turning it between his fingers speculatively before shoving it in his mouth. His eyes lit up in answer to his own question and he grunted his approval.
"You feeling ok?" He gave Cas the bag containing the rest of the order of rings.
The Angel regarded him quizzically then seized the bag, fishing out the remainder of his meal. "Yes, Dean."
Well, that was a bit of a relief. Dean hadn't been sure what to think with all the things Gabe had been telling him. Ideas of long lasting angelic comas were something he had never worried about before today. It was good to know it was a grossly misplaced concern.
He smiled at Cas, and without warning, felt his stomach drop out. All his anxiety from that morning came rushing back like it had never left.
This man was a relative stranger. All Dean really knew about him was that he was a former Angel, kicked out of heaven- and not because of sin (or whatever reasons were typical for regular Angels who got the boot), but because he had doubted commanders, who apparently did not approve of dissention in the ranks. He liked burgers in a way that was almost indecent, and he had no shame where it came to his body. The guy had no understanding of personal space. He also seemed to have a budding fondness for classic rock. In many ways, Cas was a lot like Dean.
Perhaps that explained the connection he felt when he looked up into those depthless blue eyes. It didn't feel like looking at a stranger, it felt like looking at a better version of himself. Cas was a bit more detached, to be sure, but still cleaner and with far more hope. Dean had once been like that too. Back when he was young; before things had started to go down the dark road he often found himself on. There was strength under that delicate, angelic surface. It was in the lack of hesitation he showed when handled a weapon, the way simply took the things Dean told him on faith, as if he really believed that the world could possibly be so plainly black and white. But there was gentleness too. Something that Dean had lost in a house fire long before his formative years. It was an innocence that he did not necessarily want back, but he missed all the same.
He licked his lips and examined his hands. There was a drop of burger juice on the curve of his thumb that he idly wiped on his jeans. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth before he even thought of what he planned to say. "Hey, Cas-"
The cushions on the couch dipped and the Angel was leaning close, meticulously chewing his bit of fried onion. Dean didn't have to look up from his hands to know that he was being watched with that million pound weight of a gaze; it hit him at about an inch below his temple and was so pervasive it felt omniscient. "Yes?"
And that voice did not always do funny things to Dean's insides. It wasn't some kind of inescapable trigger that ran straight to his libido. But from that close of a range, it may as well have been. A voice like that, by law, should have to be registered as a lethal weapon.
Sometimes during tests back when he was in school, Dean's thoughts would run dry. When he used to stay out drinking with Sam, and his wizkid of a little brother would start in with the word games, he would sometimes lose all inherent access to human speech. And every once in a blue moon, during particularly amazing sex, he would reach a white out point where there was naught a single rational thought, much less words left to him… this time was much closer to that last one than the others.
"You do smell like bourbon and marshmallows." The words rasped out of him, torn from a throat that was suddenly dry. Cas was bourbon, marshmallows, bacon cheese burgers, and that underlying musk that was purely his own. It was a scent Dean wished he could bottle. He would keep it on a shelf and take out on special occasions and just roll around in it.
"Is that a bad thing?" He cocked his head, blinking his confusion as an unspeakable level of unassuming innocence played over his face.
God no, Dean wanted to growl, but he managed to wipe the back of his hand over his mouth and grunt incoherently instead.
Cas did not budge, possibly didn't even breathe, he just sat, leaning down to eye level to where Dean was sitting on the floor beside him. He waited for an answer. He might have been able to wait for forever.
Dean did not have forever to sit on Bobby's hardwood floor.
"It's… you should go get a shower, Cas. It'll help you wake up, make you feel better."
"I appreciate your concern for my well being, but I feel fine, Dean."
From where he was sitting and pointedly not looking at Cas, he could see the older of the two Angels sitting at the kitchen table, idly kicking his feet and grinning wildly, chomping away on pink and white cookies. Dean closed his eyes and tried not to breathe through his nose.
"Go get a shower then you can come out and help me work on the car some more." He reached out to pat the couch and stand- but his fingers came down on denim and warm flesh and his legs refused to move underneath him. He looked at his hand where it was resting firmly on Cas' knee and fought down the urge to laugh. It would have come out a bit unhinged anyways, and he didn't need that particular blow to his masculinity on top of everything else.
"According to the television shows that I have been watching with Bobby, it seems that dishonesty in a friendship can cause strife." Cas had finally stopped burring holes in the side of Dean's head and was now looking at the junction where their bodies met. "I know that it is against the rules previously put forth, but I have not been able to keep myself from thinking about you when I am in the shower. I do not do it intentionally, and I hope that you will not hold it against me."
That blinding and beautiful blankness had thundered back into existence. Distantly he was aware that his mouth was forming words without his permission. "If you'll let me think about you when I'm in the shower- we can just go ahead and call it even." His whole body was acting on its own accord, like a blissfully drugged sort of autopilot, his thumbnail idly working over the inseam that ran along the inner edge of the Angel's knee.
There was a strange noise that came from the man beneath his hand. Dean risked a look at the sound's source and was ushered into the world of uncomfortable eye contact- and uncomfortable only because Dean knew that Gabe was just one room over and very capable of watching their actions. It was not a good time to confess romantic intent or instigate some tongue wrestling; though both were tempting, and one slightly more than the other.
"I will accept that as a fair exchange." Cas said in his low, rough way. Then, as if to prove the existence of a spiteful god, he got up, sliding away from Dean's hand and left the room.
Two seconds after the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, Dean let his head fall onto the still warm couch cushion.
"Well played, Winchester." Gabe lightly applauded from his vantage point. "I told you to use that charm of yours, but I didn't know you would be laying it on so thick. Damn good show."
Just like that, Dean's body started to listen to him again. It felt like going from pause to fast-forward, all rushed motions and the little frames in between missing. He found himself in the kitchen, swiping away the bag of animal cookies from the table. Then the doors were closing behind him as he stormed out to the salvage yard, muttering to himself about the walls closing in on him and his easy access to arms and ammunition.
The cookies made a poor sort of meal, but it was better than nothing. The sugar helped to calm his nerves and gave his mouth something to do, though animal cookies were a poor substitute for what he really wanted as not a single one of them could bite him back. In the end his mouth was coated in sticky sweetness and more than anything it tasted very little like childhood and a whole lot more like repression.
The Impala was sleeping where he had left her, sitting beside the shop, surrounded in a halo of dried, browned blood and sparkling shards of glass like diamonds in the gravel. It took a bit of searching, but he found a rake tucked away in a corner of the workshop and did his best to remove the carnage from around his baby. The work was boring, but he paused in his methodical scraping long enough to turn on the little am/fm stereo that was left out from his last attempt of car repair.
As he rounded the Impala to get back to where he had left his rake, he saw a twinkling beside the left front tire, something the wrong sort of color and sheen to be glass. Dean stooped down, picking up the little trinket and frowned. It wasn't much more than a busted up silver disk the size of his thumbnail, marred and scratched up beyond reason on one side, the other worn smooth until it shone in the piercing sunlight. He flicked it high in the air, catching it and letting it drop into his pocket. He didn't really know why he put it there, but he didn't really think about it either. It just sort of happened and then he was back to his raking.
There were no clouds in the sky. It was a clear, pallid blue that went on for an eternity. Dean hated when the sky was this clear - it always made him feel small. So he kept his head down and stayed focus on the task at hand, doing his best to not think about the fact that Cas was in the shower, most likely indulging in a little self indulgence and letting his thoughts amble over Dean. It was, frankly, not information that he knew what to do with, so he pushed it aside. It was one more problem to face when it came time.
"I crash landed in a Louisiana swamp-" he sang under his breath with the familiar song blaring on the little static strewn radio. "Shot up a horde of zombies, but I come out on top." He wished Sam was there with him. Sam might join in the singing. 'Doom and Gloom' used to be a theme song of his when they were kids and still wanted things like theme songs to maybe make their screwed up lives seem less horrific. "Guess it just reflects my mood." He roughly hummed out the chorus, not really putting up much resistance at the urge to play air guitar with his rake.
"You do enjoy your music, don't you?" Castiel's voice cut through the tunes in an utterly disruptive fashion.
Dean hastily planted his rake on the ground in the proper orientation, fighting back a smile, his free hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah." He was not about to make excuses. He tried a grin and it didn't feel as awful as he thought it might. "You feelin' better?"
His hair was still wet, plastered to his head; though bits had already started to dry in little sections that looked very close to ruffled feathers. The Angel had dressed himself in standard blue jeans and a t-shirt that Dean did not recognize (and by how it hung off of his narrow shoulders it had most likely been left behind at Bobby's by Sam or some other giant) and sported a picture of a purple greyhound. Sure, the shirt was strange, but it was his smile that did funny things to Dean's insides, even if the 'smile' was no more than the slightest bowing of his lips that would have been otherwise overlooked if the lighting had been any different.
"I feel… better." Cas decided slowly, crunching through the gravel to examine the pile of glass that Dean had managed to collect.
"Bit of a mess. I didn't feel like laying in glass while I worked." He said softly, not mentioning the semi dry bits of flesh and bone that had made their way into his pile instead of being stolen away in the night by stray cats or raccoons or whatever fate had befallen many of the larger chunks of fallen Angel that Dean could not seem to find.
Cas shifted slightly, leaning back against the hood of the Impala. "It was unnecessary for Gabriel to deal with Anduriel so… harshly."
Dean licked his lips and frowned. "Dude, I'm pretty sure that the bastard was trying to kill you. If your brother didn't magic himself up in the middle of it you and I would be history."
The Angel cocked his head, watching Dean like he was unsure what the words being said to him meant, but it was not clarification that he asked for when he finally spoke again. "An Angel's vessel is something very sacred, Dean. There are few humans capable of withstanding the pressure of our Grace pounding within them. It was a great loss when Gabriel destroyed Anduriel's vessel. Even if he had become something corrupt, he had once been a righteous man. There is a shortage of those in the world, and it is not wise to go around destroying them before they are given a chance to reform."
"Hey, I'm probably the last person that would come to your brother's, but you can't just shrug off the fact that he saved us Cas. Besides, didn't you blast two of those guys already now?"
"It's different. I banished them." He growled, suddenly bristling and defensive. "I make a point to avoid killing other Angels if at all possible, fallen or otherwise. Like I said, a vessel is something special and unique." He was staring Dean down now, trying to say something else with those damned eyes of his, something complicated and very hard to read in the moment. "They should not be expended so carelessly."
"Hey, sometimes you have to gank a son of a bitch, there aren't always ways around it." He ran a hand through his hair.
"No one is beyond redemption, Dean."
"You really believe that, don't you?" And the answer was yes, and it was due to all that unflappable conviction that Dean knew was below the man's surface.
"Even if in some cases, like with Samuel and Gabriel, they seem to be a lost cause- one must always have faith."
"Come on, man, don't go dragging my brother into this." But even as he spoke, he knew what Cas said was the truth. John had made Dean promise, many years ago, that if Sammy decided to go darkside he would act accordingly. And at the end of it all, Dean hadn't been able to keep that promise, because he knew that his brother could come back. No matter how bad things got, he knew his brother was a good man underneath all the demon's blood and chaos.
He took a sharp, aborted breath, a dense weight like he'd been kicked in the ribs. "Gabe saved your life, and he might be something of a pintsized jerk... but he can't be all that bad. What did he do to get on your shit list?"
"Gabriel is a traitor. He abandoned me when I needed him most. He is selfish and petty and... underneath it all he is still my brother. I have known him my whole life and I believe that one day he will overcome his pride and abandon this… game of his and return to those who need him most."
"Game?" Dean shook his head. "I don't think he looks at it that way." He remembered the look on the little Angel's face when he knelt over his brother's cold body. "I don't know if he's keeping it together any better than the rest of us. It's not something you can hold against him."
And it was one more way he knew that him and Cas had the same milk running through their veins. They both believed that their brother could come back. Not because they had been given any divine sign, but because they needed to believe it. Cas seemed to recognize the protocol set forth, even if he wasn't quite ready to absolve his brother. "People make mistakes and I'll be the first one to admit that none of us are perfect. But you can't always be so hard on him, Cas. The little jerk did save your life."
The Angel had grown still while he listened to Dean speak, all the warmth draining out of him as the words failed to reach home. "You call this a life?"
And that was the sort of a response that would always stop Dean in his tracks.
"This is not a life, Dean. This is a poor excuse for existence. All my brother did was to ensure that this punishment will drag on indefinitely. Don't treat his actions like a favor to me."
"Is it really that bad being down here instead of prancing around up in heaving with your stupid war?"
"I don't know, Dean." And for the first time ever, Dean heard sarcasm in the Angel's voice. "Is it really that bad being here? Are you happy? Do you wake in the mornings feeling like this is the life you always wanted for yourself? You tell me, is this a life worth living?"
"Damn it, Cas." He tossed aside his rake and covered the three steps it took to put him face to face with the Angel. "Yes, it's always worth it." He lowered his head just enough that their half inch difference in height became negligible. "Hell, maybe when I was a kid I would have traded almost anything to get away from this shit, but now? No. I spend my life stopping the monsters that should never exist outside of nightmares, but by some horrible coincidence they're very fucking real. I get to save people. It's called job fucking-satisfaction."
"But are you happy?" Cas was searching his face with something that could be described as desperation.
And Dean didn't know how they got here. The morning had started off almost lewd, Dean was fairly sure his hands still smelled like the burger they had shared, and he knew his thoughts were still plagued by the very possible fact that Cas had been jacking off only a short while before. And here they were, arguing about whether or not life was worth it. Things had gone downhill and existential way too quickly.
"Were you happy in heaven?" Dean demanded, edging close enough that their shoes touched. Just like that, the Angel looked away and the loss of his gaze was a physical feeling for the hunter, like a pressure taken off his chest, the release of a breath he didn't know he had been holding.
"No." Cas whispered, hardly more than a sigh.
"Were there burgers and fries in heaven?"
Cas shifted his weight, their knees knocking gently. "There was no need for food in heaven."
"How about hot cocoa?"
"Beverages would be just as superfluous, Dean."
"What about cartoon mice or Cookie Monsters?" He pressed on, knowing the answer before it was given with a shallow shake of the head. "Were there hot showers in heaven?"
He groaned with a plaintive tone. "Dean, we have no physical bodies that would need to be washed."
"Or touched?"
The Angel actually blushed, his pale cheeks turning a painful red.
"Or kissed?"
"No." He whispered. "All of those things are mortal inventions, just carnal desires of this temporal state."
"But are they good?"
"It is not for me to decide if they are good or bad."
"But do you like them?" His hands flitted restlessly at his sides and slowly Dean lifted one to rest on Cas' shoulder, holding him there, hoping to ground him and force an honest answer.
"Very much." He was very still under the power of Dean's touch, neither leaning into or away from him.
"Then what are you missing since you fell? What's so bad about being here?"
Those blue eyes fell on him again and Dean had never seen someone look so utterly beyond lost. The little memory of his earlier smile had been washed away with uncertainty and doubt and something unnamable and broken.
Somewhere in the world there were the right words, but they weren't here, so Dean took hold of the back of Cas' neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss. It took only a heartbeat for the Angel to melt against him, his hesitant hands coming up to rest on Dean's chest, grasping at his shirt and feeling too hot through the thin material. Their legs pressed together and their hips notched just right. It was the first time Dean had kissed Cas like this, standing and touching beyond just their mouths and hands.
It was warm, and that word was hardly adequate to sum up the beautiful feeling that came through the press of flesh and the physical weight of the other man leaning against him. There was no grinding, no frantic caresses. Cas' hands kept up their death grip like the anchor of his place in the universe, the only thing keeping him safe from black holes. And Dean clutched at the back of the man's head, fingers carded in the short hair, his other arm holding firm around narrow back. They simply clung to one another, their mouths the only part of the equation that had moved beyond a PG rating.
There was no way to know how much time had passed- was passing; time had ceased to move regularly for Dean. He was lost for long minutes, licking the insides of Cas' mouth and swallowing down each moan and gasp born into the air that they shared.
Cas broke first, which was unfortunate, because otherwise it could have gone on indefinitely. And would that really have been so bad?
"Dean," he breathed, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes closed tight as if seeing what came next could somehow destroy him. "We can't."
"Why the hell not?" He took the opportunity to stroke that soft hair, his fingertips shaking and no matter how hard he tried he could not seem to catch his breath. The gentle movement betrayed all that dread that had been building since he met Cas, and it wasn't homophobia or anything quite as trite that had made him want the distance that he now lacked.
There was no permanence in his life. Everything he had ever wanted was stripped away from him before he got the chance to really enjoy it. He had no real home, no family other than Sam, and no job security other than rumors of an apocalypse.
His life was cursed and nomadic at best. It had always been too dangerous. There was always something out there, lurking in the shadows, gunning for him. Some days even going to a bar was risky, never mind going out for a one night stand… and anyway, with someone else, anyone else… well, it just wasn't worth it. He didn't want to get involved with anyone and have to watch as the world tore them apart. And despite his full knowledge of that, he wanted Cas, and that want was something very real and solid.
Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was an Angel. Or maybe it was that despite his unassuming packaging, he was a brawler without fear or inhibitions. He was beautiful and terrible and strange- and he was one of the first people Dean had found that could actually stand up against all the weird shit that was constantly falling in his lap.
The Angel had not answered the question, his breaths ghosting like pale clouds in the cold air.
"Why, Cas?" As he spoke their lips brushed slightly and it only helped to stoke the fire curling inside of him.
"Friends aren't supposed to kiss like this."
"Damn it." He tightened his arm around the other man. "I don't want to be friends."
"You…" The Angel went almost slack in his grip, his face turning towards the sky, a decimated expression spilling over his whole countenance. "Oh." He forced out in a small voice.
"Fuck! Cas, no." He used his hand in the other man's hair to turn his face back. "That is not what I meant. We can do this and still be friends."
"But you said-"
"Never mind what I said." And if their positions had allowed for it, he would have stomped his foot. "It's not like there are actual rules to this. We can wing it."
"So you don't mind if I kiss you?"
"Mind? Oh, hell no… Just- just don't do it in public." He added almost sheepishly. "Some people get weird about stuff like this."
And for whatever reason, that earned Dean a smile. Not just his normal hint of a smile, but something that lit up his whole face, bright and open and trusting. "Alright, Dean."
"Boy!" Bobby's gruff voice cut through the salvage yard. "Your brother's on the phone - says it's important."
Dean growled, but it was behind a smile of his own. He leaned back, his arms still around the Angel. "Comin'!" He grinned at Cas, letting his voice drop down to a whisper, "I'm glad that's settled." He stole one last kiss, his teeth grazing the other man's lower lip and drawing an interesting noise. "Now you be good until I get back."
Cas was watching him with a hazy expression, eyes lidded and his mouth red and abused. "Of course." He said solemnly, as if any other behavior from him would have been out of the question.
The walk back to the house was devoid of that heavy feeling that Dean had been carrying since the night before. He was walking on fucking sunshine. Maybe Gabe had been right, and the little crush that Cas had on him was nothing special and would fade in time- maybe Dean's own attachment would taper off eventually as well. But that time was in a nonspecific future and for right now it seemed that their mutual feelings were… well, mutual.
The sun was far away and not all that bright, but somehow Dean's shadow fell dark and heavy, laid out before him with the waning light of late afternoon at his back. He paid it no attention. Why would he? There were more important things clouding his mind. He had a boyfriend, and for Dean Winchester, this was not something to ignore in place of peculiar lighting.