Archive of Our Own ^beta

                Dean and Cas have been fighting for a week now. They haven’t admitted it, and I haven’t actually seen them physically hurt each other, but it’s probably their biggest “Who’s-More-Pigheaded-and-Crazy-In-Love-With-The-Other” Standoff that I have ever seen occur between them. The sexual tension in this bunker is so thick that I can’t see a few feet in front of me without witnessing Cas’ blue puppy eyes of penance and Dean’s duck face pout. Poor Kevin couldn’t take the silence anymore and has taken the tablets, some books, water, and a box stuffed with Ramen noodles and is currently camping out in the basement. I pray for that kid. I wasn’t even aware that we had a basement. To a stranger, the waters of my torment might seem calm, but I’m actually up shit creek without a paddle. It’s shark week here.

                I have known Dean my entire life so even though he chooses not to make his emotions public, he’s the most obvious of the two. Right now he’s making two cups of coffee. You think he’s making the second one for Cas, right? Because even though they’re butting heads, Dean’s still a gentleman and a functional member of society and he still has the decency to make his angel something nice to drink in the morning, right? Wrong. Dean is a stubborn jerk and a special breed of stupid. He’s been taking the time every morning to make two cups of coffee, gulp one down quickly, and leave the other one out for Cas. It’s nice up until the point when Cas comes downstairs to join us in the kitchen. Then he takes Cas’ cup of coffee and drinks it right in front of his face. He takes long, noisy sips and lets out an exaggerated sigh when he finishes. Cas will ask for a cup and Dean will deny him one because apparently since he’s the one who buys the coffee (with his fake credit cards and hustled money), he decides who gets to drink it. It’s things like this and his obsession over his car that make me question my brother’s stupidity and sanity.

                Cas, on the other hand, is much harder to analyze. He rarely shows any emotion besides the occasional head tilt of confusion and a death glare reserved for the monsters we hunt, or really anyone that threatens Dean. Cas is similar to the angel with a stick up his ass that he previously was, at least when I’m in the room. When I “observe” the two of them from afar, Cas lets his guard down. When he and Dean aren’t fighting, his blue eyes fill with wonder. When Dean goes off doing whatever older brothers do at night, Cas gets this constipated look on his face, but I think it’s actually concern. But when I’m with Cas, he stares at me like I’m the moon; like he’s really there to see the sun, but it has set and he has to wait for it to come back and bear with me in the meantime. Cas and I aren’t the best of friends; he and Dean have their “profound bond” and I was the Abomination. I’ve tried to make conversation about research before, but it usually ends in an argument about the reliability of the Internet. So Cas and I aren’t buddies and we don’t talk about feelings, much to Dean’s happiness. But it’s this that lets me know what’s going on with them because Cas is standing at the doorway of my room right now. And from what I can tell about the raw expressions displayed on his face, it seems that he has nothing left to hide.

                He steps a few inches inside as if I could vaporize him on the spot for intruding. His arms are crossed over his chest self consciously, which makes him seem very human. He stops a few feet away from the foot of my bed, where I’m currently laying down and using my laptop. I close it and sit up. I clear my throat. Cas seems to bring tension and an air of intimidation to every room he occupies.

                “Uh, is there anything I can help you with Cas?” I ask, more curious than concerned.

                He picks at the loose ends of the wool sweater that he’s wearing, pulling the threads and possibly destroying it slowly, but it is by far the ugliest piece of clothing that I have ever laid my eyes on. I still can’t believe that Dean got him that for Christmas. His eyes go in and out of focus as he examines the bare remnants of my room, never staying on one spot and never looking me in the eye. But I finally catch his hard gaze, and he doesn’t break contact.

                “Dean,” he simply says, as if it contained all the answers of the world and the problems that influenced them in the first place. But coming from him, it probably does.

                I snort. “What’s he done now?” I wouldn’t put it past my brother to be the first person to break an angel’s heart.

                “Guess,” he says, leaning against the wall.

                I think for a moment. I mentally put myself in Dean’s place: if you’re crazy in love with an Angel of the Lord that’s in a male body, are in denial about it, are terrible at putting feelings into words, but manage to be dating them anyway, what’s the worse you could do? “Did he take you to another strip club?”

                “Luckily, no, Dean has not made another attempt to assist me in ‘losing my V-card’, as he commonly states, in a den of iniquity,” he replies.

                I take another shot at it. “Did Dean talk to you when he was drunk? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure whatever he said---”

                “He no longer wishes to be my friend,” Cas interrupts. The frown on his face deepens and creases his skin. His eyebrows furrow. His fingertips are rapidly tapping against the wall that he’s pressed up against as he casts his eyes to the floor.

                My eyes widen with worry. That’s not Dean. Sure, Dean can be an obnoxious, ignorant asshole when it comes to his and Cas’ relationship, or whatever the hell they have, but he would never go as far as to get rid of him. Would he? “Did he say that? Was he drunk?”

                “Yes, that is what he said, but he was sober,” he says, his voice an octave higher and quieter than his usual deep, gravelly voice. His blue eyes are tinged red with unshed tears as he looks at me with desperation. “I don’t know what I did wrong, Sam.”

                I get out of bed and stomp down the hall. I don’t bother to check if Cas is following me as I make my way to Dean’s bedroom, seeing nothing but red in my fury. Dean is lying down on his bed. His eyes are closed as he listens to some rock song on the radio. I barely restrain myself from smashing it. Instead, I go for the less violent approach and turn the volume down.

                “Hey!” Dean says, opening his eyes and sitting up. “What the hell, man?

                “Cas,” I say, as explanation. Dean’s face grows darker as if that one word could break his world in half. I hear Cas sniffle behind me.

                Dean swivels his head to get a better look at the whimpering angel in the hallway. “What about that stuck up douche bag?”

                This was worse than I thought. “Um… for starters, since when is your boyfriend a douche bag?”

                “Since he decided that I’m not good enough for him,” he sneers.           

                “I’m talking about that son of a bitch being too high and mighty for some low life like me.” He turns toward Cas. “Well, I’m sorry I only have six bucks to my name Mr. Pope!”

               “Dean, you know Cas doesn’t care about appearances. He’s done nothing but love you since he pulled you out of hell. He saw you at your worst, do you really think he cares about your social status? ”

“He probably has his eyes on some other angel chick,” Dean muttered under his breath.

I could feel it when Cas finally snapped. It was like the room was a rubber band and Cas was the one that finally released the tension and released it into the air.

Or maybe at a target.

Dean must have felt it too, judging from the wary expression on his face as he slid further into his bed. The light bulbs exploded and I began to pray that Cas hadn’t done that to every bulb in the bunker. The bedroom is dark until Cas’ blue eyes begin to glow and—holy shit, Dean is so dead.

“Cas, calm down. He didn’t mean it!” I say, but it’s as if he didn’t hear me.

Cas walks over to the bed and I swear Dean just whimpered a little. But it seems I have doubted my brother’s stubbornness yet again, (which I should stop doubting because the guy stood up to Lucifer and Heaven’s fucking most powerful archangel simultaneously) because although it looked like his boyfriend was about to disintegrate a few mountains, Dean was meeting him eye to eye with a blank face; as if this happened all the time and his boyfriend’s temper tantrums didn’t even faze him.

This lasted for a few more minutes. Dean was slowly rising off the bed, arms held up in a defensive gesture just in case. He’s taking baby steps toward Cas, who is now barely containing his anger. The lights that weren’t blown to smithereens are flickering and I think that screeching I’m hearing from the floorboards is the sound of the Impala being crumpled like a fist in the garage. I shield my eyes from Cas’ glowing form. Damnit Dean, what the fuck were you thinking?

Then, the room is dark again. I remove my hands from my eyes to see Dean’s hand resting on Cas’ shoulder. He gives it a comforting squeeze and the angel deflates. The lights go back on and stay on—Thank God—and I decide to voice my opinion on the whole situation.

“What the holy fuck was that?” I shout frantically. Castiel blushes embarrassingly.

“I might have gotten carried away,” Cas mutters under his breath.

“You think? You were going all Avatar State on us, Cas!” Dean says.

“I don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t understand that reference. I know. What I don’t know, is what the hell your problem is!” Dean yells, shoving Cas away from him. For a moment, I think that would ignite Cas again, but the angel just looks like a kicked puppy as he says, “I don’t know either Dean.”

“THEN WHY DON’T YOU JUST TELL ME!” He screeches, pulling at Cas’ collar. “Tell me what’s wrong, bluebird.” He’s hyperventilating now, but I know Dean would never forgive me if I try to help him with this. Cas’ eyes search Dean’s for an explanation as he plants a kiss on the angel’s stubbly cheek.

“Tell me,” he repeats. “Is it the way I look at other people? ‘Cause you know I only have eyes for you angel.”Cas silently shakes his head.

“Is it the way I get money?” He asks. “I could get a job.” I can’t hold back my scoff. He turns to me for a split second and says, “I could, and I would, if I get to keep Cas.” If that doesn’t make you flail in glee and adoration, then I don’t know what will, you soulless monster.

“Is it the way I eat? ‘Cause I can force down a salad or two every now and then.” My jaw drops in unison with Castiel’s. “Is it the sex?” Cas blushes furiously and Dean grins cheekily. “Definitely not the sex. Is it--”

Castiel shuts Dean up with a kiss. It’s amazing how quickly a supposedly “holy” being could turn something innocent into something R-rated in 5 seconds. Five seconds and I think they were only a few seconds more from ripping their underwear off without even removing their pants. But then again, all of their kisses were like that. Cas ended it before things became heated though. He takes a breath to compose himself and looks Dean solemnly in the eyes. This was not the weakened Cas with human emotions that had come to his bedroom a few minutes ago. This was Castiel, Angel of the Lord that only tolerated Dean Winchester because he was madly in love with him so everyone better watch what they fucking said.

“You said that you don’t want to be my friend anymore,” Cas says, his voice monotonous.

“Well yeah, ‘cause I wanted to fucking marry you ya moron!” Dean sighs, rubbing his temples in frustration.

I think my brain stops working for a total of ten seconds. But when I do get my bearings, I’m laughing my ass off. How did these idiots stop the apocalypse? I’m laughing so much I can’t breathe and my ribs hurt but I don’t care because holy shit, my brother, Dean, little slightly homophobic soldier John Winchester Jr. wants to get married to an angel in a male vessel named Jimmy and he’s smiling with that stupid grin on his face and I’m just so happy I could cry and--

“You want to be united in holy matrimony?” Cas whispers in awe, trembling hands covering his mouth as his face breaks out into a wide grin.

Dean wraps his hands around his, (quite romantically I might add), and kneels down on one knee. “I do.”

I prepare a mental checklist for myself:

1.        Plan their wedding because there is no way they’re getting away with just a marriage license and nothing else. They’re going to be normal for once, damnit.
2.        Get Kevin out of the basement and find him a hobby.
3.        Get a girlfriend because I am way too invested in my brother’s love life for it to be considered normal.