Hello! I'm so glad that you all liked how I handled the long-awaited breaking of the sexual tension! But now comes the clean-up and I can't just write fluffy shit, it's not me, so enjoy this pure relationship drama while it lasts because next chapter shall introduce actual plot into the mix to keep things fresh and bump stuff along. Hopefully that's cool with you guys? I am winging it so badly with this fic at this point, my future plans for it are super vague, so if it turns to shit then I'm really very sorry but it was pretty decent until now so I feel like I've done alright. Anyway, you didn't need to know all that. I'm a terrible salesperson. Enjoy the chapter! xxx

Sam wants Dean to take a look at a possible case that's close enough to come home from at night. I don't meet Dean's eyes as I watch them leave, not wanting to see the guilt and anguish and defensiveness which I know will be there. I linger in the gym for ten more minutes, my mind struggling to predict what will happen next between us. I know what I want to happen: I want Dean to stroll up to me at dinner and tell me that he's thought about it carefully and he feels the same way as I do and he's completely comfortable with that and we should move into the same bedroom and kiss some more and be totally honest with each other for the rest of our lives.

But this is Dean Winchester, and that's simply not how he operates.

Instead, I think about what is most likely to happen. Dean will undoubtedly be panicking and building up his walls. I can't properly fathom what his reasons are for being so terrified of exploring his romantic feelings for me - because I no longer doubt that he has them - but I'd guess at a blend of irrational ingrained homophobia, irrational self-loathing and a borderline rational fear of ruining our friendship. Dean is exhausting.

There's not much I can do about any insecurities he might harbour regarding his sexuality, but the simple fact of his physical attraction to me will counterbalance that and eventually he'll probably outgrow it. The self-loathing is also nothing I can fix in the short term, although if I'm going to set myself one long-term goal for my lifetime then getting Dean to love himself is the worthiest one I can think of.

Maybe the best thing I can do right now, then, is ameliorate any worries Dean may have about disrupting the relationship we already share. I should just be his friend and show him that it really doesn't matter what happens between us. We can make out on the gym floor and he can run away afterwards in a flurry of emotion and I will still be there for him, regardless of whether he's annoyed or offended me. And he's done both of those things. But forgiving Dean is something I'm good at.

Nodding decisively, I leave the gym and head to the bathroom. I'm intending to shower quickly, aware that it's dinner soon, but as I roll my aching shoulders under the hot water my mind drifts and suddenly, I'm replaying every nanosecond of contact between Dean and me. The way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the sounds he made, the way he felt against me, under me...

It happens fast. The excitement and the heady desire come back to me in a tumbling rush and before I make any conscious decision about it, my hand is wrapping and squeezing and moving and I'm leaning back against the tiles, steam dragging into my lungs and eyes screwing shut. My head is a mess of lust-blown green eyes and rough groans against my tongue, calloused fingers sinking into the muscles of my back, teeth tugging and nipping at my lower lip. I don't have to think about how to touch myself because my fingers seem to respond directly to every shift and sigh of the Dean in my memory, instinct picking me up and carrying me into the heights of pleasure. It's a simple but hypnotising thought that finally pushes me over the edge of completion: does Dean think about me when he does this?

I gasp his name helplessly as my mind numbs and I almost slide down the shower wall, weak and trembling. Shit, that was more intense than last time. I brace my hands on my bent knees and lean forward a little, panting, my wet hair dripping into my eyes. It's another minute or so before I wash myself clean and turn the water off. Stretching and sighing, I make my way to my room and put on jeans and two shirts as well as socks. It must be time for dinner by now.

I pad into the kitchen feeling only slightly nervous. I'm determined to treat Dean as normally as possible. I will not have any part in creating distance between us.

Dean isn't there.

Sam and Kevin are already eating, a large bowl of mashed potato sitting on the table between them. A smaller bowl of peas sits beside it and Kevin is spooning some onto his plate as I sit down slowly. Both men have steaks on their plates and the plate in front of me does too. I stare at the meat before raising my eyes to find Sam watching me thoughtfully.

"You OK, Cas?" he asks me seriously, and I can see that he knows something happened before he walked into the gym. I shrug at him in a non-committal way.

"Where is Dean?" I ask without bothering to hide the slight sharpness in my voice. Kevin pushes the potato towards me silently and I nod my thanks, spooning a small amount onto my plate. Sam grimaces a little.

"In his room. He grabbed a beer and went in there as soon as he could after I interrupted you guys training. Told me he wasn't hungry. Is, uh, everything OK?"

I frown as I serve myself peas. "Probably not, Sam. I'll talk to him, though."

Sam eyes me for a moment before nodding and turning his attention to his food. I'm a little surprised and relieved that he's dropped the subject so quickly. It occurs to me that Sam actually trusts me to fix what's bothering Dean and I'm suddenly immensely grateful to him for that. The Winchester brothers are so deeply involved with each other that it can't be a small thing for Sam to step back like this.

I eat quickly, trying to think of what I can say to Dean to reassure him that nothing bad is happening or is going to happen. To convince him that if he just stays calm and allows himself to reach out for what he wants, something very good might happen. I finish my meal - it's pleasant but nowhere near as good as what Dean has cooked since I became human - and thank Sam and Kevin as I wash my plate and cutlery. They're comparing thoughts on an Enochian symbol and I slip out of the room practically unnoticed.

Dean's door seems very tall and thick when I reach it. I raise my fist and knock firmly, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling of fear and uncertainty gnawing at me. I hear a distinct sigh from within followed by Dean's annoyed response:

"Sam, just leave it, I told you I'm fine."

I roll my eyes and call back a reply, my voice wry.

"I'm not Sam, and you're not fine, Dean. Could I please come in?"

There's a still silence before I hear a shuffling noise and the door creaks open. Dean's face appears in the gap, wary and frowning.

"Cas."

I tilt my head at him. "Yes."

"What do you want?"

"You," I tell him honestly, and his eyes widen in shock. I continue quickly. "But right now I just wish to speak with you. So will you let me in?"

He stares blankly at me for several uncomfortable seconds before abruptly pulling the door open and gesturing me inside. I almost sag with relief but keep my expression neutral as I walk in and turn back to face him. Dean shuts the door and then leans back against it, folding his arms tightly and regarding me with poorly disguised fear. It hurts.

"So I'm guessing you're here to talk about earlier," Dean says sharply when I stay silent for several seconds. I nod slowly, unsure of how to proceed.

"I am. I don't want to ignore it or pretend it never happened. I can't do that this time, Dean."

Eyes on the floor, he hesitates and then nods quickly. "OK. I dunno what you think is about to happen instead though."

Frustration begins to gnaw at me. "Well, what would normally happen at this point? We're both people, Dean. We're even both human. What do humans do when they feel this way about each other?"

"As if I know," hisses Dean, green eyes flashing resentfully at me. "Nothing about this situation is normal. And how exactly do I feel, huh? Please, tell me, I'd love to know. I'm so glad that you're such a fucking expert."

I make an irritated grinding noise in my throat and turn away, fists clenched at my sides. Most of the time it's all too easy to practically worship Dean, but right now I can barely believe that I'm in love with someone who's this ridiculously difficult. My human mind can only seem to deal with one major emotion at a time and it's currently stuck on anger.

"You're being incredibly stupid," I inform him harshly, eyes on the wall. Dean snorts.

"Yeah, well, that's me. That's what you get. Not exactly first prize, sorry."

That makes me pause, enough to calm down and think about what's really going on. This all seems too deliberate. Is Dean actually trying to push me away? He seems to be displaying his worst side in an almost calculated manner. But why?

Exhaling slowly, I loosen my hands and turn back to face Dean with a speculative gaze. He's still wrapped around himself, hunched and wounded looking, the spiky irritation on his face a thin mask. I step closer and he flinches.

"There's nothing you can say or do that will make me leave you, Dean," I say softly. He blinks at me, obviously perplexed. I continue steadily. "Not for good. You can lash out and hurt me enough that I'll walk out of this room, but I'll come back. And you can do it again, and again, and even if you never stop, neither will I. I will never be gone for good."

"Now who's being stupid?" Dean mutters, but his arms have dropped a little and he's peering at me as though hoping I'll say more. I smile at him.

"Yes, maybe it is stupid of me. Self-destructive and unhealthy and foolish. But it's the way things are, the way they've been for years now. I can't change the way I feel about you, and I don't want to. It's a fact, Dean, that I love you. It will always be fact."

I watch him closely as I speak and I see his throat bob as he swallows heavily. "Cas..."

"It's OK," I interrupt, putting a hand up to silence him. "Take your time. We're friends, and that won't change. But please, don't be afraid of me. Being closer than we are now could make us both happy, Dean, but even if it falls apart we'll still be friends, and I'll still love you, because those are facts of you and me."

Dean's eyes are soft now, the tension gone from his shoulders. "Family."

I blink at his response. "What?"

"You keep saying we're friends, but we're more than that. We're family. And... look, yeah, maybe something else too."

I break into a relieved grin and he smiles back shyly before speaking, one hand still wrapped around the opposite elbow and the other relaxed at his side. "I'll think about it, Cas. I promise. I just need some time and space. This shit messes me up. I'm sorry..."

"That's fine!" I say, probably a little too quickly. I'm just so light-headed with delight that Dean is opening up to me and being honest. I beam at him and he gazes back at me for several seconds before blinking and ducking his head.

"OK, get outta here, sunshine," he mumbles, reaching behind him and pulling open the door. I can hear the smile in his voice and I want to kiss it very, very much. I walk past him without touching him, though. I just need to trust Dean to make his way to trusting me and maybe, just maybe, things will be the way they should be.

"Cas?"

I turn back so quickly that I almost overbalance and Dean smirks at me, leaning his temple against the doorframe. I flush and glare at him without any heat. He eyes me for a second, hand on the door, lingering before he pulls it shut.

"See you tomorrow?"

I smile softly. "I told you. I'm not going anywhere. See you tomorrow, Dean."