Hallooo! Enjoy some more of Dean's frustrating indecisiveness and Cas's self-deprecating cluelessness.
How unsatisfying was 11x21? I wanted to punch my screen at the end. Jesus, Bucklemming, you were doing so well too, what with 11x18. Hopefully 11x22 will provide everything that 11x21 failed so spectacularly at, although I'm starting to dread the strong possibility of the writers ignoring everything they said in the last several eps about Cas being Dean's top priority. Nooooo plz no.
Reviews are all that is good in the world :)

Dean and Kevin are in charge of dinner that night, making a stir fry. They cook an enormous amount, two large pans of it, as well as a gigantic pot of rice. I know without asking that there will be enough leftovers to feed both myself and Kevin whilst the brothers are visiting Charlie, and I'm grateful that I won't have to navigate cooking by myself. Dean delegates various chopping duties to Sam and me whilst he cooks off chicken and Kevin argues with his mother over the phone as to how much sesame oil to add. Finally, he shouts goodbye and hangs up, breathing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I fucking hate cooking," he grumbles as he spoons different pastes and powders onto the cooked meat and gestures for the onions, mushrooms, carrot and beansprouts to be added. Dean smirks but says nothing as he stirs the food patiently and I sniff the air in interest. I haven't tried Asian food before.

After very little time, the stir fry is pronounced ready and Sam drains the rice whilst I set the table again. It's delicious and I direct my compliments to Kevin, hoping to lift the frown from his face. He murmurs thanks but barely looks up from the translation notes he's brought to dinner with him. I grimace internally at the thought of spending the next two days alone with him. Kevin is a good person and a valuable ally, but not exactly cheerful company. Then again, neither am I most of the time.

We watch another film, but this time it's in a different room. It turns out that Dean was absent all day because he was buying furniture and a television and setting up a lounge room, with two comfortable sofas and a bar fridge for beer. Sam and Kevin seem as surprised as I am when Dean leads us there and he looks extremely pleased with himself. It's very endearing.

"Dude, what made you do this?" Sam asks, running a hand across the top of the small but modern TV. Dean shrugs.

"We got a whole family unit going on now, and we should have a place to just relax together. You especially, Kevin. Jesus, you need to drink more beers and watch more movies."

Kevin scowls at him but there's warmth in his eyes, and he flops down onto a sofa with an approving hum. Dean glances at me.

"You like it?" he asks, sounding oddly anxious. I cock my head at him, wondering why he's bothered about my opinion. He didn't do this for me, after all; he just stated that it was for everyone.

"Of course I like it," I shrug. "You and Sam are always saying that I need to watch more films. This is perfect for that."

Dean grins, nodding happily. "Right! And we're going to continue your education right now. Sammy, what are you thinking? 'Alien' or 'Terminator'?"

Sam is watching his brother with a faint smile on his face, which widens as he considers the question. "I dunno, Dean, you don't want to start with some nice Disney?"

"Watch it, or you're getting kicked out of the den."

"The den? Really?"

I tune their bickering out as I sink down onto the other sofa, drawing my legs up and sitting cross-legged. Dean called us a family unit, and he's gone and created a shared space for us all to spend time in. I watch him fondly, realising how important this sort of thing is to him. I wish for a moment that things had turned out differently for him and Lisa and Ben, even if it would mean the loss of any chance at spending a lifetime with him. Dean deserves to be happy, and if that happiness doesn't involve me then it's still something that I want for him.

I'm pulled out of my reverie by the screen lighting up; Dean turns the lights off a moment later. Sam has already settled next to Kevin and I see Dean's silhouette hesitate for a few seconds as he realises that the only spot is next to me. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable and feeling a little less desperate than the last movie night, I shift up to one end of the sofa, leaving him plenty of room. Sam complains that Dean is blocking the TV and a moment later Dean is sat directly in the middle of the sofa, his thigh brushing against my knee as he leans back into the cushions. I glance around him at the person-sized space left on his other side, confused as to who he thinks is going to sit there. Worried about invading his space, I carefully slide out of my cross-legged position, placing both feet on the floor and creating a good few inches of air between myself and Dean.

He stiffens up and then relaxes. I can feel him glancing at me but I ignore it, determined not to be weird and selfish and demanding like last time. Dean went to a lot of effort to create this space and he should enjoy it untroubled. I concentrate on the film instead.

It's barely ten minutes later when, after fidgeting regularly on the spot, Dean casually slings an arm across the back of the sofa, his wrist brushing against my hair. I hold my breath, mind whirring, but then I scold myself immediately. I'm overthinking this. Whether Dean has any non-platonic interest in me or not, he can damn well put his arm on his own sofa without me going into silent hysterics over it. Inhaling slowly and smoothly, I keep my eyes calm and fixed on the screen, trying to follow the plot. I can't actually remember which film we chose; which one had killer robots? It's mildly entertaining, either way.

I'm just managing to actually become somewhat invested in the fate of Sarah Connor when Dean shifts again. He brings his arm up to scratch the back of his head and then resettles it behind me, this time with his warm hand resting on my shoulder, just barely but enough to make me twitch. My hands clasp each other involuntarily tighter on my lap and I blink rapidly at the screen, unable to look sideways even though I'm fairly certain that Dean is watching me. What does he want? Is he trying to provoke some kind of reaction? Or am I imagining that I can feel his gaze? Is he totally absorbed in the movie and doesn't even register that he's touching me? I'm determined not to find out and my gaze doesn't deviate from the TV, trained there as though my life depends upon the outcome of Kyle Reese's desperate mission.

Dean doesn't move again, seemingly content to sit with one arm draped behind me, his fingers occasionally moving against my shoulder in a motion which is not quite stroking but always makes me shiver slightly. By the end of the film I've relaxed, letting my head loll back against Dean's arm and bringing one ankle up to rest on my opposite knee. The credits roll and even as I go to stretch and turn a sleepy smile onto Dean, he withdraws his arm and springs off of the sofa.

"Next one?" he asks, looking more at Sam and Kevin than at me. I've frozen mid-stretch, feeling a little startled at his sudden movement. Kevin shakes his head and gets up from the sofa, yawning.

"Nah, sorry. Early night for me. Sleeping a lot helps my brain to process stuff."

"Nerd," replies Dean good-naturedly, ruffling the young man's silky dark hair as he leaves. Kevin makes a noise like an annoyed cat and ducks out of the room. Turning to Sam expectantly, Dean's face falls as he sees that his younger brother is also getting up to go.

"Sorry, Dean, my eyes are kinda tired. Might go listen to music for a bit. You and Cas enjoy, though."

Sam shoots me the briefest of raised eyebrows and I frown at him, wondering what he's trying to communicate.

"Oh, come on..." Dean's protests fade as Sam shrugs and leaves the room, calling back over his shoulder that he wants to be on the road by nine the next morning. There's a beat of silence before Dean turns back to look at me, sighing heavily.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me," he says a little too loudly. I tilt my head at him, pleased but a little cautious at the prospect. Dean stares at me for several long seconds and I smile encouragingly, blinking up at him. He inhales sharply.

"Lucky, I guess. We get a sofa each now, huh?"

My brows draw together in confusion as Dean puts the next film on, but understanding clicks into place - rapidly followed by more confusion and undeniable disappointment - when Dean throws himself onto the other sofa, folding his arms behind his head. I stare across at him, utterly unimpressed, but he keeps his eyes trained on the TV. I guess the roles have been reversed here. Rolling my eyes resignedly, I swing my own legs up onto the sofa, trying to play off the slight hurt in my own head. I'm used to this by now, Dean always inching closer only to pull away and re-establish the distance. It's a constant rhythm in our friendship, the ebb and flow that I never really questioned much as a angel. Now, though, I'm finding myself more and more interested in disrupting that pattern. I just don't know if I should.

It's far easier to get drawn into the film without Dean distracting me, and I barely even look at him for the whole thing. My eyes are aching a little by the end and I yawn hugely as Dean gets up to turn the lights back on. He chuckles.

"Time for bed, I reckon. You, uh... you know what to do if you have any troubles?"

I smile tiredly at him as I unfold myself from the sofa, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. Thank you, Dean. You've been so kind to me."

Dean blinks and then frowns. "Ain't about being kind, Cas. You're family."

My smile broadens and on impulse, with no ulterior motive whatsoever, I step forward and slip my arms around his waist, pressing my face into his shoulder. It's possibly the first time ever that I've initiated a hug purely on natural instinct and I sigh blissfully at how very right it feels to express myself this way, how warm and solid Dean is in my arms, how pleasant and familiar he smells. He shaved this morning.

Dean makes the oddest muffled noise and takes a moment to respond, but as his hands come up to pat my back I hear and feel his surprised chuckle into my hair.

"Huh, OK. Guess I should use the 'f' word more often."

I laugh too, squeezing him a little tighter before reluctantly letting go. "I must admit, hugging is really nice. I don't know why I was so physically removed as an angel."

I'm still standing very close to Dean as I speak, eyes lifted the inch it takes to meet his. I'm watching him minutely, noting the visible dilation of pupils and the way his freckles show faintly on his skin. He swallows, hands sliding down my back and around my waist before finally dropping away. My skin tingles in their wake.

"Yeah," he manages slightly hoarsely after a pause. "Yeah, it's nice."

He licks his lips quickly and of course I end up staring at them, my calm slowly tumbling away as my heart rate picks up. Shit, I want to kiss him. Maybe I should. I could play it off as confusion about human displays of affection if he doesn't want me to after all? But that's manipulative and dishonest. I know full well what the difference is between a hug and a kiss. I sway a little closer, staring shamelessly down at Dean's mouth, simultaneously trying to talk myself into and out of pressing my own lips to it.

"Uh, Cas?"

My eyes snap back up and Dean looks terrified. I sigh in defeat. It's insane for me to think that he'd welcome me kissing him right now. I need to stop letting my own feelings get in the way of logical thinking. I'm probably creeping him out with my closeness and my wandering eyes. Stepping back, I give him a polite smile.

"Sorry, Dean. I'm just tired. I'm going to bed now. I might not see you in the morning, but please call or text me when you arrive."

Dean blinks. "What?"

"When you reach Charlie. I'd like to know that you and Sam are safe."

Dean blinks again, staring at me as though I'm speaking a different language. Slowly, a frown settles onto his face and he looks down at the floor, annoyance poorly hidden in his eyes. I'm filled with confusion, but at this point a lack of confusion would be confusing in itself.

"Yep, fine," Dean mutters. He shrugs, seemingly to himself, and then gestures towards the door. "You go ahead, get some sleep. I might stay here for a bit."

I hesitate, but Dean doesn't look up. Stepping reluctantly past him, I look back from the doorway, seeing that he hasn't moved. "Goodnight, Dean."

He turns his head slightly. "'Night, Cas. See you in a couple days."

My mouth twists at the thought as I make my way up the hall towards my bedroom, but part of me thinks that maybe it might be a good idea to have some time to adjust to humanity without Dean taking up my every thought. And it's only a few days, after all.

That night, my nightmares consist of every time I've ever missed Dean in my life. It's depressing how often that's been. I wake up in the early hours of the morning, curled up and trembling but thankfully not crying this time. Staring unseeingly towards the ceiling, I reflect glumly that two days is really nothing compared to the year I spent watching Dean build a family with Lisa and Ben, or the months I tried to block out his prayers in Purgatory, or every campaign and crusade I went on in Heaven wishing that I was by his side instead.

Two days might be nothing, but I'm still dreading every second.