The last nine days had dragged by, although Cas was unable to say how. He couldn't recall specific events; he knew he had spent a lot of time with Balthazar, and that he'd often called Gabriel, and that he'd gone home after two days and stared at his and Dean's picture next to his bed and wondered how everything could have fallen apart so quickly.
He knew he shouldn't let himself go like that, but the end of his dearest, if unacknowledged hope, as well as a friendship that had lasted for over a decade and defined him as much as his relationship with his family, was simply too much to take in.
He could only hope it would get better in time and had decided to take a walk in the hope that it would clear his head or at least prepare him to do so – when someone started knocking on his door.
"I'm coming!" he called out, slipping into his trench coat.
The knocking didn't abate, and he felt resentment as he shuffled to the door. He had clearly indicated he was coming. Why couldn't whoever was behind the door wait –
He threw it open, frowning.
And looked straight into Dean's eyes.
Cas looked like he hadn't slept or eaten well in days, his shoulders hunched, his trench coat suddenly seeming too big for him, and Dean's mood sank as he realized it was his fault.
"Dean – " his friend breathed. It brought him out of his contemplations of Cas' appearance.
"Cas – "
"I – I'm glad you're here, Dean. Please come in".
Cas hoped that Dean could forgive him, forget what he had admitted to and that they could be friends again. He just needed that; just needed his friendship. It would be enough. It had been enough for a long time.
Even though, after leading him into the living room and turning around, looking into his eyes, he couldn't prevent that his mind jumped to the conclusion that he could have had Dean these nine days. He wouldn't have sat alone or Balthazar; Dean would have been with him, his to touch, his to hold, his to –
He looked down and started worrying the sleeves of his trench coat, as he always did when he was nervous.
Dean wanted to reach out, but he didn't want to make Cas more uncomfortable than he already was.
He blurted out, "You read Vonnegut".
Cas looked up.
"What?"
"You read Vonnegut. That's why I spoke to you in the first place. I never told you, but – no one else had read Vonnegut. No one else I knew. And he was and is still kind of my favourite author, and you walked right into me because you were reading Timequake, and – I just wanted to get to know you".
Cas' eyes lit up.
"You remember!"
Then he recalled their fight and took a step back, panic evident on his face.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry. I never meant – you weren't supposed to know. Please forget all about it. I swear I'll never bother you with my feelings. Just – please – let's be friends. Don't – "
Cas was normally masterful with words. It pained Dean to see him like this.
"Cas – " he said slowly as he advanced, stopping when he realized Cas was stepping back.
"I don't think I can go back to being just friends".
Cas looked as if he'd slapped him, and Dean became aware how it must have sounded.
"Shit! No, that wasn't what I meant at all, I – "
He stopped and took a deep breath, then continued, calmer, "I wrote myself a letter".
"You wrote yourself a letter?"
He nodded and was relieved to see that Cas moved a little closer. Not much, but still.
"When I had amnesia. Stuff to remember when I... remembered".
Cas squinted and tilted his head to his side, and Dean wondered how he could ever have seen the feelings he had towards this man as anything different than love.
"It was mostly just... how I viewed things and that I should re-examine them and... well, I did".
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that – I was right, before. When I thought – no, I didn't think it. I knew it. And I was right.
I'm in love with you, Cas".
For one second, he saw pure joy on Cas' face and thought that he could use to the expression, but then he closed off and shook his head.
"You're not. I know you, and – "
"When you're puzzled about something, you squint and you tilt your head," Dean interrupted him, and Cas did just that.
"Yeah, that's what I meant. Your eyes crinkle when you read something funny, but you don't laugh out loud because you're so busy enjoying the stories and characters unfold in your head. You have a thing about bees for no reason at all, but it's worth it because you always buy great honey. You always wear the trench coat even though it's over twenty years old and I can't imagine you in anything else. You're annoyingly ignorant when it comes to pop culture, although I've been trying to educate you forever. You – you are the one person, besides Sam and Bobby, who I want to speak to every day. Even when we were seeing other people, I couldn't imagine not spending as much time with you as possible. Probably didn't help my relationships, to be honest". Cas' lips twitched, and Dean stepped forward.
"I saw things as I was taught to see them, and I never allowed myself to think what you meant to me. When I had amnesia, I did because I didn't remember I wasn't supposed to, and I realized. I've been in love with you for a long time, Cas. I know I made mistakes and I screwed up and I wasted too much time, but – would you please give me a chance? Give us a chance?"
Cas should probably have questioned him, should have thought about it; but Dean remembered and Dean wanted him, Dean remembered and was right here in front of him, Dean remembered and he was in love with him –
He breathed his name and launched himself into his arms.
Dean had kissed and been kissed often; empty, drunken kisses in bars when he'd been hungry for companionship; lazy, gentle kisses traded after being in a relationship for a while and being sure his partner wouldn't go anywhere; passionate, frenzied kisses in the heat of the moment.
None had ever felt like this.
Kissing Cas was a new experience, and maybe it should have felt strange because he had never kissed someone with stubble before, but it didn't. It felt likefalling. It felt like flying.
It felt like everything Dean had ever wanted.
Why had he waited so long to do this, again?
He drew Cas closer. It made sense that although they kissed for the first time inside Cas was wearing the trench coat he'd owned longer than Dean had known him. It was just another detail that fit him well, just another thing that made him Cas. That made him the man Dean loved.
They kissed feverishly, again and again, and Cas couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He could only kiss Dean, he could only feel.
He had believed for almost half of his life that this moment would never come.
And yet –
He had to hear it again.
He cradled Dean's face in his hands and forced their mouths apart with gentle pressure. Their foreheads were touching.
"Are you sure?" he asked softly.
"Never been surer of anything in my life," Dean said.
"I've loved you for a long time, Dean Winchester," Cas replied and kissed him again.
Their kisses grew slower after that, but not less passionate. Realizing that they were together and that they would stay together allowed them to take their time, explore each other with their mouths and fingers and lips, and the outside world faded away.
They made their way to the bedroom, barely breaking apart.
All that was left was each other. It was too much and too little at the same time, and Cas reluctantly stopped kissing Dean to drag his t-shirt over his head.
It was then that he realized his trench coat was gone. Dean must have gotten it off him somehow.
Dean was working on the buttons of his shirt.
"Always with the damn dress shirt," he whispered, annoyed, even as he continued kissing him, and it was such a Dean thing to say that Cas couldn't stop happy laughter from escaping him.
Dean broke away from him to mock-glare, then playfully shoved him backwards.
Cas landed on the bed and Dean was lying on him in a second, kissing and nibbling at his neck. Cas strained to give him better access, helping him at the same time to finally get rid of his shirt.
Then, surprising Dean, he turned them around and grinned down at him.
Dean all but growled in response and reached up, clashing their lips together again.
What followed was like nothing either had ever experienced.
Cas had long since been convinced that he knew Dean, but now he learned him in a new way, touching, stroking, his fingertips gliding over skin. Lips worshipping bodies, muscles clashing together, confessions and promises whispered between them.
Waves were dragging them towards completion, irresistible and strong, they were helpless, they could only cling to each other and concentrate on giving as much pleasure as they received, on making their beloved feel good, finally having nothing but noises to convey their emotions because words failed, had to fail under such circumstances, would never be enough.
And then Cas was screaming, or maybe he wasn't, but nothing else mattered but this moment they had taken so long to reach and almost didn't reach at all, and they lay in each other's arms afterwards, panting.
Cas didn't know how much time had passed. He didn't care. He certainly wasn't moving to figure it out.
Dean chuckled. Cas moved so he could see his face.
"Damn," Dean said. "That was awesome".
Cas laughed, feeling silly and drunk with happiness.
"It was," he confirmed, slipping his hand in Dean's.
He huffed.
"Don't like at me like that, like I'm..." he trailed off. Cas frowned.
"Dean, what were you going to say?"
Suddenly Dean smiled and the confusion left his face.
"You know what? Forget it. Do look at me like that".
He gently pulled Cas into another kiss. Maybe he would tell him later that he'd been about to tell him he was nothing special but had thought better; that he had every intention of changing his life, being happy; maybe.
For now, he had more important things to do.
Much later, they had fallen asleep. Dean was woken up by his cell phone. Cas muttered something incoherent and tried to snuggle even closer into his chest.
It was Bobby, and Dean registered that it was dark outside and that he hadn't let anyone know how he was doing or what had happened since he had stormed out of his apartment some time before noon.
"Hey, Bobby," he greeted him cheerfully, because looking at Cas' beautiful sleeping face, it was impossible not to be.
"Hello, boy," he said, trying to appear calm. "Didn't wanna rain on your parade, but we've been asking ourselves if everything's alright".
"Everything's fine. Better than fine. Great," he said, and before he could continue babbling, Cas muttered, "It would be even better if you were silent" and he could practically see Bobby's stunned face.
"Please tell me you two idjits finally figured it out".
"We did," Dean answered, stroking Cas' hair. "I'm staying the night".
Bobby chuckled. "Anything else would surprise me. I'll... let you get back to it".
He hung up before Dean could answer.
Bobby let the phone sink and grinned at Jody, Sam, and Jess, who were sitting in the kitchen of Dean's apartment.
"So they are –" Sam began. Bobby nodded.
For a moment, Sam thought he would actually cry with relief, but then Jess squeezed his hand and he grinned as well.
No one mentioned Dad. He had long held only a small place in the family, and now that Dean had finally admitted to himself what everyone else already knew, it would probably disappear all together. He didn't matter.
What mattered was that Dean was happy.
Jody jumped up.
"I don't know about you, but Bobby and I are going out for celebratory drinks".
They gladly accepted.
Cas opened an eye.
"Bobby?"
Dean nodded. "In Bobby speak, he told me he's happy for us".
Cas smiled, closed his eyes again and tried to cuddle even closer, which was impossible but still nice in its own way.
"We can't lie here forever," Dean reminded him.
"We can try," was his answer. Cas looked up at him. "I still can't believe you're here".
"Get used to it".
"I'm going to," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against his chest. And another. And another.
"Cas," Dean forced out, "as much as I like what you're doing, we should eat something".
"You are right," Cas admitted, and he actually sounded disappointed.
They got take-out, and if Dean had had any half-formed plans to watch a movie and cuddle on the couch afterwards, they were thwarted by Cas dragging him back into bed to ravish him again and afterwards have a little pillow talk.
He told him about the letter. Cas smiled.
"I'd like to read it," he said, absent-mindedly drawing patterns on Dean's chest.
He kissed his head. "You will".
"You lied to me, you know," Dean began after a few minutes spent cuddling. "You didn't tell me the whole truth about Dad from the beginning, for example. And my life isn't as great as you made it out to be".
"But you are," Cas said simply, and Dean knew that he meant it. He buried his face in Cas' chest so that he wouldn't see his blush, only coming up for air when Cas chuckled and pulled him into a kiss.
They were both acting like lovesick, hormonal teenagers and enjoying every minute of it.
They looked into each other's eyes. Time seemed to stand still. Then Dean began suddenly, "I'd like to go to McPherson College and take a course in restoration. I'd like to renovate the shop and make it awesome, specialize in restoration maybe once I have enough money. I'd like to take you on dates and vacations and be your – boyfriend".
It was strange to finally acknowledge long-hidden desires and dreams, but the thought that it was possible they might come true made Dean giddy.
Cas laughed as an answer, loudly and happily, and when Dean stared at him, confused, he quoted "You were sick, now you're well again and there's work to do."
As he kissed him, grinned brightly and replied, "Yeah, there is" he didn't think he'd ever been happier.