The first two weeks at Bobby's house, Cas and Dean slowly but surely built a routine.
Days were spent researching Hell and how two human men could pull pure, human souls out without opening the Devil's gate and releasing Hell on earth. There wasn't much, because most ways would lead to another apocalypse or involved deals with demons. Dean got in touch with his contacts to figure out what was going on in the world of the supernatural, and it turned out there wasn't much, just the usual run of the mill baddies. He plied them to figure out if they knew who Hell's new leader was, but if they knew, they wouldn't tell him because most hunters thought Dean was responsible for the near-apocalypse, which was only half true. Cas tried to figure out if his "situation" had ever happened before without an angel ripping out their grace and as far as both of them could tell, it hadn't. He tried to contact a few more angels, but they didn't come.
Dean watched as Cas slowly but surely became more human. His physical strength was slowly dwindling and his need for sleep and food was basically at "normal" human levels. He started perspiring and was forced to start watching his hygiene, which he found irritating. Cas did not like the minutiae of day to day living. He seemed to be dealing with his transition remarkably, until one day he couldn't open a jar of pickles.
Dean was sitting in the living room, reading about a spell to summon reapers, when he heard an exasperated scream and shattering glass. He was immediately up, running to the kitchen.
Holy shit. They've come for him. They've finally answered his prayers and they're killing him.
These were thoughts that first entered his head, but it was so much simpler, yet somehow so much worse.
He found Cas leaning over the counter, sobbing horribly. On the floor below was shattered glass, dill pickles covering the floor. Cas wasn't wearing shoes and had stepped in some of the glass and there was blood.
"Cas! Dude, what happened? Are you okay?" He cried, pulling the fallen angel into his arms.
"I couldn't open the pickles." He sobbed. "I can't even open a fucking jar of pickles."
"What? That's it? Aw, Cas, it happens to all of us, even the manliest of us." He murmured, holding Cas, rubbing his back reassuringly.
"You don't understand, Dean. You don't know what I used to be. I used to be the most powerful creature in the universe. I was pure divine energy, strong enough to send people through time, powerful enough to pull you out of Hell, and sheer force of my voice shattered glass. Now I can't even open a jar of pickles and I have to drive everywhere and I get winded walking up stairs." He said, bawling.
Dean didn't know what to say. He couldn't find the words. There was no possible way he could understand what Cas was going through, what it was like to go from what he was to what he is now. There were no words, because it was unprecedented.
Dean pulled Cas out of the kitchen into the couch in the living room. He cleaned up the cuts on his feet and Cas didn't fight when he bandaged the wounds. He wasn't sure how much pain he was capable of feeling. Then he held him for a long time and Cas didn't say anything, just cried and held him back, as if he was holding on for dear life. Finally, he calmed down and his breathing returned to normal.
"I can't stand not knowing why this is happening to me." Cas murmured, "Dean, I need answers. I have to get answers."
"Don't worry Cas, we'll get you answers… somehow. We'll get answers for everything." Dean whispered, stroking his hair.
"I'm exhausted. Human emotions are exhausting. Also, my feet sting where I stepped on the glass." Cas muttered.
"Want to go lay down for a bit?" Dean asked.
"Yes, I think that would be wise. I need to… rest my brain. My brain which has so many thoughts in it, I feel like it'll explode." He said.
They went up the stairs to the room they had been sharing since they'd moved into Bobby's house. He wondered if Bobby would mind that two dudes were sleeping together and slowly progressing to a full-on sexual relationship under his roof. Bobby had nearly killed Dean when he found him in bed with Rhonda Hurley. Bobby had never been fond of sex happening under his roof.
Cas crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Dean started to walk out, eager to read more.
"Dean?" Cas called out.
Dean turned around. "Yeah, Cas?"
"Will you stay? I just really need you right now. I still feel… like crap." He muttered, as if he couldn't find words for what he felt.
"Of course, buddy. Anything you need." He said.
Dean got into bed with Cas, and the fallen angel snuggled up to him. Dean pulled him tight, brushing back a few errant strands of hair off his face. He kissed him on the forehead.
Cas really needs a haircut. He thought fondly.
"This is when I feel best." Cas murmured. "During the day, sometimes it's so hard to just crack open those books, so hard just to force myself to eat. Here, with you, is when I feel the happiest, the most human. Here with you is when I realize that being human is better than being an angel."
Dean couldn't help it. He felt a huge smile stretch across his face and his heart suddenly grew 50 sizes.
"Aw, Cas. That is like, I don't know, the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. You seriously have a way of making me feel so much better than I really am. Thank you." He said.
"Don't discount yourself so much, Dean. You're the best. I really, really… care for you. More than I ever thought was possible when I was… different than this." Cas said.
"You thought about this when you were an angel?" Dean asked softly. "Really?"
"At first, no. I thought you were selfish and weak and that you spurned God. I saw how brightly your soul burned, even in the depths of Hell, and I should have known then, but I didn't. Then… well, there was you, every day, and I grew to care. I grew to understand you, and why you did the things you did. And well, at the end of my previous life, I found that I had grown to love you." Cas said.
Dean's heart stopped when Cas said that.
Did he just tell me that he is in love with me?
Yes. He totally had.
"Dean, say something." Cas said suddenly.
Dean didn't realize that he had been silent for awhile after what Cas had said. The truth was that Dean had never said those three words to anyone except for Sam or his dad. He loved his family and he loved Bobby, but obviously it was a different kind of love. He never had loved anyone he'd dated or slept with, and he had lost count of the former and the latter number was somewhere around 60.
Did he love Cas?
He didn't know. So instead of responding, he decided to let his actions speak for themselves, to show Cas that yes, there was passion, there was possibly love, and that he was grateful for him for saving him in every possible after Sam and Bobby had died.
He leaned in and captured Cas's mouth in his. He kissed him with the intensity and attraction he had come to feel for him in the last month. He let his thoughts about spells and Hell fall away and he just poured himself into Cas, who kissed him back with equal passion. He ran his hands over Cas's bare back under his clothes and then pulled off his shirt. He rolled over on top of Cas and moved his mouth down to his throat, sucking and biting on that sensitive place between his shoulders and neck that drove Cas crazy. Cas moaned and gripped Dean's back, digging his nails into his shirt. Dean ripped his own shirt off and leaned over him, resting on his elbows, returning to Cas's mouth, that mouth that he loved, with its full lips and its tendency to turn red after too much kissing. Dean ground his hips into Cas's, wanting, needing skin-on-skin contact. Cas was letting out all of these little gasps and moans that were almost too much for him to hear, because God was it hot. Cas circled his arms around his neck and pulled him in close, kissing him fiercely, all tongue.
Cas pulled away from him, to catch his breath.
"Pants. Off. Now." He panted into Dean's ear.
"Yours too." Dean whispered back.
When it was over, Dean didn't think he had ever felt better. He thought the first time having sex with Cas would be carefully planned with candles and soft music, like some Death Cab for Cutie or possibly that woman from all those depressing animal commercials. Instead, it had been totally spontaneous, slightly rough, and a lot of fun. Dean had never been one of those guys who was into gentle lovemaking, all missionary, lights out and whispers of "I love you" after each thrust and he was glad Cas wasn't either. The experience they had just shared had been perfect in its imperfection. After all, Dean had never had sex with another man, and Dean was pretty sure Cas had never had sex period, at least in a human sense. It had been messy, slightly awkward and in the end, completely enjoyable for both of them.
"So that was what the poets write about?" Cas joked. His demeanor was totally different than it had been a couple of hours ago. He was relaxed, grinning, and at ease in his post-coital bliss.
"I don't think that's what the poets were thinking about when they wrote about sex." Dean responded, with a smile. He reached over and took Cas's hand in his.
"It should have been. I get it now, Dean. I would have ripped my grace out a thousand times in order to experience that over and over again."`Cas said, sighing happily.
"So it was good for you?" Dean asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"It was perfect." Cas replied. "Absolutely perfect. I want to do it every day and in lots of different ways."
"You're perfect." Dean murmured, leaning over and kissing Cas in a way that was almost chaste. "Cas, buddy, you know that I love the shit out of you, right?"
"The shit?" Cas said, looking a little grossed out.
"It's an expression, you dummy. I dig you, Cas. I love you." He said.
For some reason it was easy for him to say it now, because actions really did speak louder than words.