Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“How long was I gone for?”

“Too damn long”.

That was an understatement.

Dean’s perception of time had utterly collapsed beneath him from the second that blinding light pierced his vision. The sight of Cas, having just returned after a gruelling few minutes of his absence, only to have the light leave his eyes the moment he stepped through that rift. He slipped through Dean’s fingers yet again.

Dean had subsequently tried to bury his pain and grief far below the surface, seal it away with the myriad of other traumas that haunt him. However, this time had nearly broken what was left of his damaged soul. What once was an effortless task of brushing his pain aside, now began to chip away at his psyche, gnaw at his heart and his chest.

He had lost track of the number of times he stood hunched over the sink, his lungs starved for air, his forehead slick with sweat. The agony of having something he treasured so dearly being ripped away before his eyes corrupted every fibre of his being. The “what if’s” and “could’ve done’s” plagued his mind, restrained him from falling into the comfort of sleep, of unconsciousness – existing anywhere but the reality he had found himself in.

Sam had begun to grow increasingly worried about his brother; Dean had lost count of the number of times he heard the inevitable “Are you okay?”.

Dean, so desperate, so frantic, had resorted to praying to God at one point. It was an act of pure hopelessness, a last-ditch effort of a desperate man. In all his years, he refused to bow down to a higher power, to feel like his fate was in the hands of someone else, especially now knowing that someone is Chuck, of all people.

But what other option did he have? God had brought Cas back before; he can do it again. Only, he didn’t. In characteristic fashion, he ignored Dean’s pleas. Dean could imagine the desolate look on Chuck’s face, the hollow eyes that would accompany the “I’ve intervened too much”.

Not that Dean would admit it to Cas, but seeing him here now, alive and in the flesh under the flickering streetlight, gave meaning to his life again.

He still recalls the phone call, the sound of Cas’s voice rumbling through the speakers, as if it was a hallucination - a result of the many sleepless nights. Part of Dean had expected to pull up to the phone box and find nothing but the buzzing of cicadas. His last crumb of hope had been squashed long ago, after all.

But Cas had defied all odds as he turned to meet Dean’s gaze, his eyes full of sentiment. The moment Dean pulled him into an embrace and felt the solid form within his arms; he could finally breathe again. Cas’s warmth that radiated through Dean’s clothes gave him an ungodly sense of comfort.

The separation of their hug left Dean encased in a hollow emptiness, a longing to hold on and never let go, not again.

-

As Cas turns to meet the grumbling engine of the Impala - a sound he never thought he’d miss so much - his chest fills with every possible emotion he had bottled up until now.

He watches as the brothers swing the car doors shut, hesitantly approaching the man they had burned the body of only days prior. The look on their faces tells Cas the feelings are mutual.

“I don’t even know what to say”, Sam says exasperatedly. Neither does Cas.

One second he was enveloped in darkness, nothingness, with an aggravated cosmic entity being his only company, and the next, he was breathing the fresh night’s air again.

“I do”, Dean strains out as he approaches the Angel.

“Welcome home, pal”, he whispers.

The sensation of Dean’s arms wrapped around his shoulders nearly drove Cas to tears. He hadn’t realised how much he missed this feeling, to be surrounded by such safety and protection. The memories of the empty began to slip away within Dean’s grasp.

What felt like an eternity was but a fleeting hug, one that communicated more than words ever could.

The idea of spending the rest of eternity in complete voidness, without Dean, sat as a deep terror at the pit of Cas’s stomach. It’s rather ironic, really, that the very Angels who guard Heaven are fated to spend their afterlife in nothingness.

Though, nothing surprises Cas anymore.

Being brought back to life was just another day at this point to the Angel - a feeling he had become accustomed to. Yet, he could never get used to the flurry of emotions that surge through his body every time he would reunite with Dean and the others.

Up until a few years ago, Cas’s perception of emotion was alien, something he could see but never touch. Of course, he recognised what sad and happy looked like, but to relate to the feeling was something he never thought he’d experience.  

It was only when he acquired Jimmy’s vessel did he begin to realise what he had missed out on all these years. Jimmy had so much love to give - for his family, for his friends, for the sake of humanity; when Castiel first descended to occupy his vessel, the overwhelming mix of emotions nearly threw him off his feet.

Yet, he never completely understood these until he became human himself. The fall from Heaven was a time of self-discovery so much as it was humiliating. The feelings he bore as Jimmy once were finally his own; he could finally understand what it meant to love.

His mind flashes back to the early days – the close proximity, the intense staring whenever Dean would look the other way, the way Cas was drawn to help Dean, to defy his family for him in a heartbeat. It never registered to him at the time what this meant; he recalls how frustrating it was, to go through such changes and yet, unable to pinpoint what these changes were.

Dean certainly didn’t help with that, either.

The tingle that feels like electricity with skin-to-skin contact, the ache in his chest he felt whenever his duties in Heaven would separate him from Dean for more than a few days, the rush of heat that courses through his body whenever Dean looks at him with those glistening green eyes.

Being human is exhausting, he thinks.

The Angel began to figure out ways to mask these feelings, an act of survival in fear of losing the only family he has left. God knows what Dean would say were he to find out; Cas dreads the possibility.

As Cas meets Dean’s gaze, what worries he had that were swarming his mind have disappeared before he knows it. He’s home now, and that’s what matters.

Chapter Text

Three days have passed now since Cas’s return. Dean’s attempt at hiding his relief and excitement had failed miserably, as Sam’s done with Dean’s shit face has made its appearance more than a few times.

“You’ve been in a good mood lately”, Sam huffs; Dean ignores the hint of judgement in his voice as he chomps down on his second bacon-filled burger of the morning.

“Something wrong with that?”, Dean doesn’t bother to look up.

“No, not at all. I was just worried, that’s all”, Sam starts. Dean squints up at him from the kitchen table in suspicion.

“Don’t look at me like that”, Sam rolls his eyes, “It’s just, you’ve had a pretty rough go lately”, he leans back against the door frame, seemingly undecided on whether he wants to sit down and commit to the conversation or not.

“Yeah, well, I think we deserve a little happiness after everything, don’t you think?”, Dean says, his mouth full of bread and cholesterol. “I said we needed a win; we got Cas back, that’s a pretty damn big win”, he continues, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Sure, I get that”, Sam says noncommittedly, “I guess it’s just jarring to see the complete switch in your mood”, he admits. Dean feels as though Sam is working his way up to something, to call Dean out on some other bullshit, most likely.

“What are you trying to say? Spit it out, Sammy”, Dean says half-heartedly. Sam glances down to the floor, his eyes searching for the best response to that.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy Cas is back, and all…”, his voice trails off as he meets the even more suspicious gaze from his older brother now. “But Mom is still missing. It seems like you’ve completely moved past that”, he concludes, looking like a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

Dean quirks his eyebrow in confusion and part offense. “Sam, she got yanked to apocalypse world with the one person you don’t wanna be yanked into apocalypse world with”, Dean deadpans, “What else can we do?”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “That doesn’t mean she’s dead”, he states matter of fact. Dean can see the last drops of faith Sam still holds, always ready to look on the bright side. “Even if it did, you thought Cas died too”, Sam continues.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”, Dean feels his shoulders tense as he begins to lose appetite for finishing his breakfast.

“Losing Cas broke you more than it did losing Mom”, Sam says as if speaking for Dean himself. Dean feels his stomach lurch. Not because Sam has that oh-so familiar confrontation in his voice, but because he isn’t entirely wrong.

Ever since their mother came back, she felt like more of a stranger to him than she did knowing her through pieced childhood memories. The picture Dean had of his mother that he cherished all these years had cracked the moment she decided to leave again.

That, alongside finding out she was still hunting after he was born had completely skewed what remained of her in his memories. Still, Dean tried to make it work, tried to be a family once again. But alas, she had other plans.

Dean still struggles to comprehend how a mother could abandon her children a second time, even worse, to join the likes of Ketch and the British Men of Letters, the very ones who tortured Sammy.

After everything, though, she is still his mother, and he is still her son. That will never change.

Cas, however, has been with Dean through thick and thin. They have endured the worst of the worst together, been through their ups and downs, but remained strong at the end of it. Dean can’t think of anyone else besides Sam that he would trust as much as Cas.

To lose Cas that night was something Dean had lost sleep over prior. The fact that he and Cas weren’t on perfect terms before he died still haunts Dean; the guilt, the regret, it pools in his stomach every second of the day.

“And what if it did?”, Dean finally retorts, considering whether resistance is the best path right now, what with the weight of everything else they’re having to deal with.

Sam gives him a narrow look.

“I mean, Cas has done more for us than Mom ever did”, Dean admits, not caring of the passion exuding from his voice. “He has always had our back, and even when he’s fucked up, he did it for our sake”, Dean rants. Sam must have struck a nerve.

“We will look for Mom. Trust me, I hope she’s alive just as much as you do”, he adds on, his voice softening slightly, “But don’t be surprised that losing Cas did things to me that not even I anticipated”. Sam raises his eyebrow in response, waiting for Dean to expand on that vague statement.

“There were days when I wondered what the point of it all was”, Dean lowers his eyes, focusing his gaze on anywhere but Sam’s. “So when he came back, I felt like, I don’t know, my life gained some kind of meaning again?”, Dean spews out, surprised at the barrage of information coming out that isn’t accompanied by alcohol.

Sam’s eyes widen, seemingly unpacking the layers to his brother’s words. “Dean…”, he says, voice gentle and sympathetic – a tone Dean has never felt comfortable welcoming. Before Sam could begin to form a response to Dean’s confession, a familiar voice echoes from behind him.

“Sam, Dean”, Cas says rather awkwardly as he peers behind Sam’s broad shoulders. “Cas”, Dean says breathily, shuffling his feet uncomfortably, hoping to God that Cas heard none of that.

“I came to say we’ve found a case”, he clears his throat, noticing how thick the air is in the kitchen. “A case?”, Sam asks, his voice holding a nonchalance Dean is grateful for. “Jack is rather set on becoming a hunter”, Cas says with fondness. Dean meets the Angel’s gaze for a split second, feeling exposed all of a sudden.

“Right, we’ll be right there”, Sam reassures Cas with a quick smile. Cas nods, taking one more undiscernible glance at Dean before disappearing into the corridor.

“Shit”, Dean breathes out, massaging his temples, “This is your fault for making me spill all that”, he jabs at his brother. Sam scoffs. “Hey, I didn’t say you needed to confess your undying love, you know”, he jeers, quickly regretting it as Dean flings a fork his way.

“Shut it”, Dean snaps, busying his hands with his plate as he trudges to the sink – a pathetic excuse at occupying his mind with anything but what just happened.

It’s okay, he tells himself. He had said similar things to Cas’s face before, so what makes this time different? Admittedly, he never worded it as heavily as just now, neither did he allow his voice to sound so heartfelt. The last thing he wants is for Cas to catch on, as impossible as that might seem, considering his utter lack of social knowledge.

Dean decides to depend on that idea.

Chapter Text

“So? Sounds like a case, right?”, Jack beams up at the other three.

“It certainly doesn’t sound like not a case”, Dean hums. Cas studies the hunter’s face beside him, failing to realise he’s slipping into his old habit of staring again.

“Right, Cas?”, Dean turns to meet Cas’s gaze, catching him off guard. He wonders if he felt him staring. “Oh, yes”, Cas replies flatly, quickly redirecting his gaze to Jack. “It’s worth looking into”, he adds on to Jack’s delight.

“Great!”, the Nephilim exclaims with glee, earning a soft chuckle from both brothers. Cas’s chest fills with warmth; the attitude Dean held towards Jack before he was born wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. To see him now with that familiar look of endearment was all Cas could ask for.

Sam had divulged some information on what the bunker was like before Cas returned. Dean had apparently given Jack a hard time at first, wary and resentful. Cas can’t help but understand; after all, Jack indirectly led to his and Mary’s “disappearances”.

Dean’s attitude must have changed once he learnt that Jack was the one to bring Cas back.

The Angel’s mind flashes back to just ten minutes prior, making his way down the hallway before stopping in his tracks at the sound of Dean’s voice. It was muffled, making it difficult to discern what was exactly said, but Cas had gathered that his return has been a time of rejuvenation for Dean.

What puzzled Cas more than anything were the responses from both Sam and Dean when he interrupted their conversation. Sam looked like he’d been caught red handed and Dean… Dean looked scared.

What could possibly warrant that reaction, Cas is unsure. He’s aware of how hesitant Dean is to talk about his feelings, but the way his eyes darted, avoiding Cas’s line of sight; it was definitely uncharacteristic of him.

Nevertheless, Cas is glad to be back, to feel like a family again, now with the addition of Jack. He can’t help but feel like he’s coparenting with Dean and Sam, an idea that isn’t unwelcomed, rather, it fills him with a warmth like no other.

“So, werewolves, huh?”, Dean’s voice snaps Cas out of his thoughts.

“How do we kill them?”, Jack’s innocent excitement paired with the question earns a snort from Dean.

“Blade. Neck”, Dean says while making a slicing gesture with his finger to his neck. “Cool!”, Jack beams. Cas feels like child protective services would be called were someone to overhear this conversation.

“Are we sure it’s a case?”, Sam asks dubiously.

“Sam, some dude turned up dead with his heart ripped out. Might I add, it’s prime time in the lunar cycle”, Dean deadpans.

“Look, all I’m saying is that we might be wasting time chasing after a dead end while Mom is still missing”, Sam exclaims.

“Well, we’re all out of ideas and Jack could do with some field experience, if y’know what I mean”, Dean shrugs. Sam sighs in defeat, “Alright, fine. Maybe we need a small win every so often”, he admits.

“Then it’s set!”, Jack cheers, clearly seeing this as a field trip more than anything.

“Alright, get the duffel ready, we’ll leave by noon”, Dean tells Sam, still seemingly avoiding acknowledging Cas.

-

The air of the motel room is damp, much like the aftermath of the summer rain shower still stuck to the asphalt outside.

Jack darts around the room in eagerness, handling the various miscellaneous merchandise on the shelves that probably hadn’t been dusted for years; you’d think the kid had never seen a bed before now.

“Reports say the victim’s body is currently being held at Montgomery Hospital’s mortuary. Guess they’re still lost on what killed this man, too”, Sam hums as he scrolls through the endless pages of confidential police documents he had hacked into.

“Well, no surprise there”, Dean says lazily, plopping down on the side of one of the twin beds. The six hour drive had led them to a small town in the middle of nowhere, Illinois; Dean would be surprised if the local police had faced anything worse than a burglary until now.

“Get this”, Sam continues, “The news articles left out some key information”. Dean quirks his eyebrow. “What? Turns out the victim likes to wear pink panties on his days off?”, he quips. “No, Dean, he’s not you”, Sam remarks back, earning a glare from his older brother.

“Dean, you-“, Cas’s question is hastily cut off by the sound of Dean’s irritable voice. “No, Cas. I already know what you’re gonna ask, and the answer is no”, he snaps. Sam snorts in amusement from his table.

“Anyway, as I was saying”, Sam decides to free Dean from his teasing, “The police reports here say that not only was his heart missing, but his liver too”.

“His liver?”, Dean furrows his brow. “Exactly”, Sam concurs, “Ever heard of a werewolf that eats the liver too?”

“Must’ve been one hungry werewolf, then”, Dean shrugs as Sam rolls his eyes.

“C’mon Sam, if the duck quacks, then it’s a duck”, Dean says.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes”, Sam retorts. Dean mimics the phrase in a mocking tone.

“The circumstances remain strange, though”, Cas interrupts the brotherly squabbling. “Werewolf or not, we’re dealing with something here”, he states. The two brothers finally look like they agree on something.

“Alright, let’s split up”, Dean suggests, “Sam, you and Jack go interview the witnesses, see if anything fishy is going on. Cas and I will check out the scene of the crime”.

“Aye, aye, cap’n”, Sam sighs, angling his head to search for Jack who has now found himself inspecting the bathroom.

Although the last thing Dean wishes is to be alone with Cas at the moment, he isn’t sure he’d want to babysit Jack either. As time has gone on, his relationship with Jack has improved - certainly after bringing Cas back - but the lingering bitterness that sits at the back of his tongue remains.

The possibility of having lost Cas forever weighs in the back of his mind, taunting him in moments of solace. Losing his mother for the third time hasn’t helped thin the wedge between him and Jack, either.

He’s a good kid, Dean has to admit, though. Sure, one that has the power to end everything in existence in a millisecond, but a good kid. Dean can only hope that his influence – albeit probably not the best influence - along with Sam’s and Cas’s is enough to steer him away from following down a dark road.

“Hey, Jack! We’re leaving soon”, Sam calls out to the other room, earning a peek from behind the doorframe. “Yessir, I’m ready”, Jack calls out. He really seems to be getting into his role.

“Dean”, a grumbly voice startles Dean off the bed, standing to attention. “Are you ready?”, Cas asks, his gaze piercing as if he’s trying to read Dean’s mind. The hunter gulps. “Oh, yeah, sure. You might wanna drop the trench coat if we wanna at least look like FBI”, he suggests.

Sam raises an eyebrow behind Cas to the suggestion. Dean shoots him a knowing look.

“Oh, alright”, Cas complies without question.

Of course, Cas has been on many hunts sporting his trench coat, but he looks good in just a suit and tie. Dean would rather die and be sent back to Hell before admitting that out loud, though.

Cas slowly slips the trench coat off his shoulders and folds it before him; Dean can’t help but stare.

It wasn’t unusual for Dean to find himself at a loss of what to do when he’d get flustered or embarrassed, but things appear different now. Ever since Cas returned, and the elephant in the room, which was that conversation this morning, Dean felt it more arduous than usual to hide his feelings.

Maybe it’s the rush of getting Cas back, or the built up yearning in his absence. Whatever it is, it makes Dean feel exposed, like all of his secrets and thoughts have been displayed for all to see. Only, it’s all in his head - at least, he hopes. Sam seems to be catching on, but Dean can deal with him.

Cas, on the other hand, cannot know. He can’t know that he’s the first person Dean will look for in a room full of people, the person that gives Dean strength in the worst of times, the one that Dean dreams about.

For if he does, Dean dreads he will lose him yet again.

Chapter Text

“Agent Page and Agent Jones”.

Dean displays his badge, noticing how quickly Cas is to follow now. His lips can’t help but curl slightly; he still recalls the way Cas would hold his badge upside down or completely forget to take it out when they first started hunting together.

“What seems to be the verdict?”, Dean asks the confused police officer, standing with his head low. “God knows”, he says, his voice shaky, “I’ve never seen anything quite like this in my time of working here”.

“You can say that again”, Dean thinks aloud. Cas gives him a side eye.

“You mind if we?”, Dean doesn’t have to finish his sentence for the officer to step aside. “Be my guest. Maybe you guys will have more luck”, he says dejectedly before walking away.

Dean can’t help but notice the setting for the crime. A place quite unbefitting of such a small Christian town. The neon sign plastered out front along with the sickly combinations of red and black décor signalled anything but Christian values. But hey, who is Dean to judge? If he were stuck in a town as boring as this, he’d find himself here most nights too.

“So, this is where the victim had his heart ripped out?”, Cas questions, his brows furrowing as he inspects the small dingy room fit with a suspiciously large bed. “Yeah, the so-called den of iniquity”, Dean teases, earning a glare from the Angel.

“You’re never going to live that one down, are you?”, Cas grumbles.

“Nope”, Dean grins, ignoring the obvious situation they have found themselves in again.

“Why would a werewolf choose its victims here? Seems more complicated than just picking someone up off the side of the road”, Cas wonders.

“Maybe the werewolf had a thing for pervert hearts”, Dean jokes, although agreeing with Cas; it seems more trouble than it’s worth to risk being caught tearing through some dude’s chest in a private stripper room.

Seemingly more lost than they were before entering the building, Dean feels his trousers buzzing.

“Hey, Sam. Got anything?”, Dean says through the phone, hoping they’ve had more luck.

“Not much. All the witnesses were either too ashamed to speak or too preoccupied with their own fantasies to remember anything”, Sam sighs. “Great”, Dean grunts.

“There was one thing, though”, his brother continues, “One of the women who work there said she saw a new employee there she’d never seen before”.

“Okay? And?”

“Well, that wasn’t really the strange part. She said this woman had… different eyes”, Sam says vaguely.

“Thanks for the vital information, Sherlock”, Dean says, imagining the sour look on Sam’s face.

“She said the woman had fox-like eyes”, Sam adds on.

Dean and Cas share a confused glance. Dean had seen many women with “fox-like” eyes, certainly at a place like this.

“I already know what you’re thinking”, Sam says as Dean pretends to look innocent, “This witness was set on the fact they weren’t human eyes”.

“Kitsune?”, Dean suggests. They had encountered a few in the past; one in particular having been a point of contention between Sam and Dean after he made the decision to kill her.

“No, Kitsunes aren’t known to feast on specific organs”, Sam counters.

Dean hums in thought.

“Oh… huh!”, if Dean were a cartoon character, he’d definitely have a lightbulb flashing erratically above his head at this moment. “Something wrong?”, Sam’s voice cracks through the phone.

“I think I heard something like this before, like way before”, Dean wracks his brain for the pieced memories. “Dad told me about a similar case years ago”, he continues, “Now that I think about it, he mentioned something about Illinois”.

“And you decided to neglect telling us this?”, Sam’s voice now irritated.

“Hey, you expect me to remember every single case Dad told me about 15 years ago?”, Dean snaps.

“Won’t this be in your father’s journal?”, Cas suggests, having silently observed the conversation until now. “No, I’d remember seeing it if he did. Maybe he didn’t actually kill it?”, Dean starts to wonder aloud to himself.

“Maybe? You don’t remember?”, Sam questions, seeming more impatient by the minute.

“I told you, my memories of it are hazy”, Dean retorts. He hears Sam sigh on the other end of the line. “Well, time to research”, he says; Dean can hear Jack in the background, seemingly excited at the idea of monster studying.

“Lucky us”, Dean says, “Call me if you find anything”.

“Will do”, Sam replies curtly before hanging up.

Dean and Cas are left in the silence, together, alone, in a room that stinks of sex. Dean feels lightheaded.

“Dean”, Cas’s voice stirs something within the hunter. He turns to meet his gaze, although hesitant at first.

“If it’s your memories we’re relying on, I have an idea”, the Angel says, and Dean can already predict the next words that come out of his mouth.

“You wanna swim around in my head, is that it?”, Dean raises his eyebrow, noticing the way Cas’s eyes flicker away momentarily. “It won’t take long. If you remember the time frame, I can pinpoint the memory quickly”, Cas continues methodically.

Dean stews in his thoughts for a moment. On one hand, he hates the idea of Cas looking through his memories - his thoughts - for it could spell a dangerous and most likely awkward situation. On the other hand, the one thing he hates more than anything is research.

“Alright, fine”, Dean concedes, “But no snooping, got it?”, he tries to mask the panic in his voice. Cas nods.

“Let’s go back to the motel and get this over with”.

-

Cas peers down at Dean, now sitting idly on the edge of the motel bed once again. Dean’s eyes travel up to meet Cas’s gaze, ready for his mind to be searched. This angle is certainly something. Cas gulps.

“Here I go”, Cas announces, bringing his index and middle finger to in between Dean’s brows. Dean’s eyes close shut; Cas thinks he can feel him shake, or maybe it’s his own hand.

Dean’s skin is warm beneath Cas’s fingertips, a feeling the Angel could never bore of.

As he, too, closes his eyes shut, the array of memories flash behind his eyelids. Searching 15 years back takes some time, unsurprisingly. Just as he thinks he’s getting close, the image of something catches his attention.

Flashes of facial features appear haphazardly: blue eyes, a nose, brown hair… lips, various different angles of lips. Cas struggles to discern the identity of the features, what with them being so close up, but eventually realises as he pieces them together.

This is him. He’s looking back at himself through Dean’s memories.

Memories and thoughts begin to blur into each other; Cas is unable to tell what is memory and what is imagined at this point.

Just as he’s about to move further into the past, past whatever this is, he can’t help but stop at a certain scene. It startles Cas at first, stuns him into stationary silence. What can only be described as skin-on-skin contact makes his way into the Angel’s view.

Desperate hands searching every crevice of a bare chest, snaking their way up and around shoulders, back down to the waist. Cas recognises this body as his own – the tan chest rising and falling erratically with hitched breaths.

The hands now replaced with lips travel up his neck, leaving trails of kisses along the Adam’s apple. Cas hears his own grunts; sounds he’s never heard himself make before. “Dean”, the voice strains out.

Cas feels his brain short-circuit.

Whether it was the shock of the movie playing before his eyes, or the deep panic that set in the forefront of Cas’s mind, he zips past and away from the scene, frantically searching for what he originally had been looking for.

It was a miracle his fingers still lay on Dean’s forehead - unmoving, trembling slightly, but unmoving.

Finally, he breathes a sigh of relief.

The conversation he overhears Dean and his father have is hazy at best, not because Dean’s memories are at fault, but because Cas is struggling to keep it together.

After an excruciating few minutes of memories that translated to seconds in real time, Cas retracts his fingers from Dean, swiftly stuffing his hand into his pockets as to hide the tremors.

“So, you find anything?”, Dean asks nonchalantly as his eyes flutter open. Cas coughs, hoping to God his face doesn’t look as hot as it feels.

“Yes, it’s a Kumiho”, Cas manages to croak out. His tongue feels like sandpaper as he licks his lips. Dean hums in wonder.

“Kumiho, Kumiho…”, he’s repeating to himself, seeming to piece together the memories at last.

“Right. Dad never managed to kill it”, Dean says, still sitting before Cas, his head angled towards him. Cas can’t take it much longer.

The scene replays in his head like a broken tape, Dean’s hands – his lips – on his body. Although it was just a thought, Cas’s body tingles as he imagines the feeling. What could possibly have warranted that thought, Cas is lost for reasons.

The mix of memories with Cas’s lips as the main focus were just as suspicious. He had always been aware of the habit Dean’s eyes had of travelling to his lips, but he figured it was something he did with everyone.

The Angel’s mind whirrs in a struggle to comprehend the meaning of all of this. Maybe Dean isn’t even aware of these thoughts, maybe Cas had somehow influenced his thoughts and wishfully replaced a woman with himself. He’d cling on to that belief if it wasn’t for the fact he heard his own voice utter Dean’s name.

“Hey, you listening?”, Cas startles as he peers down to the source of the noise; Dean stares back intently, throwing the Angel’s mind into overdrive.

“Oh, uh, yeah”, Cas fumbles his words out, earning a suspicious glance from the hunter.

“You didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to see, did you?”, Dean’s eyes narrow as Cas suddenly feels like he’s on trial. “No, nothing at all”, he replies, aware of how obvious the lie is. He shuffles his feet restlessly; the way Dean glances up at the Angel forces him to recount the scene again. What is Dean thinking about right now?

“Alright”, Dean says warily, “’Cause I got some pretty embarrassing memories from when I was younger I’d rather people not know. Can’t have Sam be the cooler brother”. Cas feels his body relax ever so slightly; Dean is sharp, but clueless when it comes to Cas sometimes.

The slam of the motel door startles Cas, like he’d been caught, retreating from the dangerous position he and Dean had been in all this time. “Oh, you’re back”, Dean suddenly exclaims, glimpsing to Sam and Jack who have just returned.

Cas thanks the Heavens for being saved by convenient timing.

Chapter Text

“You guys find anything?”

Sam is about to answer before Jack takes the reigns.

“We did a lot of research!”, he exclaims, “And we think we found out what it is”.

“Oh? Look at Sherlock and Watson over here”, Dean teases; he can only guess that Jack gave Sam a run for his money from the exhaustion plastered on his brother’s face.

“Yes, we looked back on some old archives, and we think it’s a-“

“Kumiho”, Dean finishes Sam’s sentence for him.

“Uh, yeah?”, Sam says confused. “You mean we did all that research for nothing?”, he groans.

“I apologise, it was my idea”, Cas mumbles as Sam gives him an inquisitive look. “What do you mean?”, he asks.

“Cas over here just needed to have a peek through my memories, that’s all”, Dean shrugs, noticing the way Cas clenches his fists at the statement. Sam looks like he’s kicking himself for not thinking of the idea before subjecting himself to pointless mental labour.

“So you’re certain Dad hunted a Kumiho?”, Sam asks, still as thorough as ever.

“Yeah, though he never actually killed the son of a bitch”, Dean crosses his arms. It wasn’t like their father to miss a kill; this Kumiho must be a slippery one. “Ask Cas, he can back me up”, he points to the Angel.

All of a sudden, Cas seems to clam up, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other, as if struggling to eject something from his mind. “Oh- yes. Your father appeared rather disappointed”, is all the Angel could muster out. Dean’s suspicion metre begins to rise.

Sam hums, “Well, guess we have one Kumiho to hunt down”.

“Wait”, Dean interjects, “Dad never said how he tried to kill it, so what’s this monster’s poison?”.

“A blade to the heart”, Jack announces quite proudly.

"They tend to disguise themselves as attractive young women, hence the guy who turned up dead in the strip club", Sam states.

Just like a Kitsune, then, Dean thinks. His mind can’t help but wander a few years prior to the Kitsune he eliminated, the one Sam had grown fond of. There are still times now when he wonders if it was the right thing to do; she was a monster after all, one that was a risk to others.

I’m a hypocrite, he thinks.

Benny should have been given the same courtesy if that were the case. But Dean couldn’t bring himself to turn on him. Only then did he finally understand Sam’s feelings, yet it was far too late.

“So, seeing as this Kumiho has been targeting lonely men, there’s a few places to search”, Sam suggests, earning a nod from the others. “We’ll leave by evening tomorrow”, he says; Dean thinks his brother’s always been destined to lead others.

“Man, I could really go for some pie”, Dean sighs, stretching his legs lazily. The six-hour drive meant they didn’t have time to stop at a diner, plus the added subsequent commotion rendering them too busy to even think about food.

“Jack and I can go to the store”, Cas suggests all of a sudden, startling Dean at the seriousness Cas took his passing complaint for. “Sounds good”, Sam interjects, “Pick up some beers while you’re at it”, he gives the Angel a small wave.

Sam must really have been put through the wringer, Dean thinks to himself.

Before he knows it, Dean is left with Sam in the motel room. He senses the inevitable barrage of questions about to be thrown his way any second now. “So…”, he hears his brother start. There we go.

“Has Cas seemed off to you?”, he asks, his voice laced with worry and suspicion. Dean gives Sam that dumb look he does when he pretends to be oblivious. “What do you mean?”, he asks innocently.

“You know what I mean, Dean”, Sam deadpans; Sam never was one to fall for Dean’s façades. “He’s been more quiet than usual, and… shifty”, he says, furrowing his brows.

“He’s a shifty man, Sam”, Dean shrugs nonchalantly, desperate for his brother to drop the topic. Sam, however, relents.

“Do you think he overheard us this morning?”, Sam suggests, a knowing look telling Dean he’s trying his best to be cautious.

“That can’t be the reason. We’ve had our sappy moments in the past; it’s nothing I haven’t said before… well, maybe not as sappy as that, but still”, Dean rambles, trying to wrap his head around it too.

“Yeah, but what about what I said afterwards?”, Sam asks. Dean squints at first, trying to recall what dumb response Sam might’ve had. Then, he remembers.

“Hey, I didn’t say you needed to confess your undying love, you know”.

Dean facepalms, earning a guilty look from his brother. “Thanks for that”, Dean hisses, “But that was a joke, right?”

“Are you sure about that?”, Sam’s words pierce through Dean like arrows. He gives him a sharp look.

“What do you mean by that?”, Dean’s voice lowers slightly; Sam shuffles uncomfortably in his seat before deciding to make his way over to the other bed. Dean doesn’t like where this is going.

“I know you, Dean”, Sam begins, now facing Dean directly. The hunter feels cornered. “And I know Cas is important to you, he is to all of us”, his brother continues. Dean’s stomach backflips as his mouth goes dry.

“But-“

“Don’t, Sam”, Dean warns him, his tone holding more threat than before. Sam’s mouth shuts tight, but his eyes do all the talking.

“There’s nothing left to say”, Dean concludes the short-lived conversation. No way in Hell was he about to have this talk with Sam now, if ever. Sam decides to back off, his face still holding pieces of sympathy Dean hates so much.

“Hey, Sam”, Dean says, breaking the minute of silence they had between them. Sam looks to him in anticipation.

“This Kumiho we’re hunting…”, Dean tries to think of how to word his next sentence, “Sure sounds like a Kitsune, right?”

“Yes? I mean, they’re practically related in a way, they-“, Sam’s voice cuts off as he realises what Dean’s thinking, partially by the constipated look on his brother’s face.

“Is this about what happened back in Montana?”, Sam asks, and Dean can only react with silence. “Look, we’ve been over this. I understand why you did what you did, and I’ve come to accept our differences in the matter”, Sam says diplomatically. The guilt weighing Dean down doesn’t dissipate, however.

“I’m fine”, Sam reassures, “This Kumiho tore through an innocent man, killing it is anything but wrong”. Dean can agree there; this case seems pretty cut and dry – bloodthirsty monster kills for food, and most likely pleasure, meaning it should be eliminated.

“Sounds like a plan, then”.

-

How has this happened again?

Dean stands before the hostess club, the same one in which the victim had turned up brutally murdered just two days before, alongside Cas.

“Gotta stay in business, I guess”, Dean thinks aloud.

Standing side-by-side with Cas in a place such as this throws Dean back to one of their first hunts together – Cas trying to provide therapy to the stripper, them being kicked out of the strip club. Dean chuckles to himself.

“Ready?”, he turns to Cas, who seems to have calmed down since yesterday; he nods. Dean never brought up his behaviour from the day before and neither did Cas; better to brush things under the rug than air them out. Though, Sam’s idea of sending them to the club together again irks Dean; he feels like a desperate teenager being set up by his wingman of a brother.

Sam has taken Jack to the local bar in which those most lonely tend to frequent – divorced middle aged men. Jack definitely wasn’t against the idea of investigating a bar; Dean told Sam to go easy on the drinks, which earned an eye roll from the latter.

Upon entering the establishment, the familiar stench of booze and smoke fills Dean’s nose – the sweet scent of debauchery. He looks to Cas, who scrunches his nose. “C’mon, this is the life of the town”, Dean bumps his shoulder to Cas, “Then I worry for this town”, Cas frowns, earning a smirk from the hunter.

“Why, hello boys”, a seductive voice echoes from within the grimy leather booths. A woman emerges, her hair dark and shiny. She grins with her red-stained lips, revealing a set of dazzling white teeth. Her hazel eyes pierce through the two hunters, a predatory gaze.

“Well, hello there”, Dean can’t help but gawk. For a town in bumfuck nowhere, Dean was definitely not expecting this. “Can we book a booth, please?”, Cas asks ever so politely. The woman grins devilishly, looking the Angel up and down.

“Of course, sweetheart”, she hums, hooking her finger around Cas’s loose tie. Dean feels his brow twitch.

“Come this way”, she beckons before disappearing back into the booth. Dean and Cas give each other a glance before following. A few of the other booths are occupied, not surprisingly by men who look all too guilty while the women serve them endless drinks.

“Make yourself comfortable”, she gestures to the sticky seats. Dean prays he doesn’t sit in some kind of body fluid.

Cas sits opposite Dean, separated by a pine table. The woman slinks in beside Cas, immediately too close for comfort – Dean’s comfort, that is. Dean had gotten the impression she was more interested in Cas ever since she set eyes on them.

It’s fine, he tells himself. This is for the hunt.

“The name’s Jasmine”, the woman smiles, her voice laced with seduction.

“Dean. This is Cas”, Dean says, gesturing from him to the Angel who looks all too uncomfortable right now. “Cas”, she repeats slowly, “Such a cute name”, she grins, fiddling with the collar of his trench coat. Dean begins to feel his patience thin.

“Ahem. So, Jasmine”, Dean begins, accentuating her name, “I’m surprised you guys are open after what happened the other day”, he starts his questioning. Her face morphs into a look of pity.

“Yes, it’s terrible what happened to that poor man”, she says, her arm snaking round the back of Cas’s shoulders, “But the world has to keep turning”. Dean’s eyes narrow. Not the mourning type, he thinks.

“So, what about you guys?”, she steers the conversation swiftly, “What brings you to a place like this? I’m sure you get enough attention as it is”. She leans further into Cas as he begins to look more uneasy by the second.

“Why do you say that?”, Cas questions cluelessly, his face angling towards hers. Jasmine lets out a chuckle, “Don’t be coy”, she teases as her face starts to move dangerously close to his. Dean clenches his fists under the table.

This was definitely not how he expected things to go.

Her lips are just inches away from Cas’s as he stares back stiffly. “Ahem”, Dean clears his throat again maybe too loudly. Jasmine retreats, her eyes pinning Dean to the seat.

“He’s a little shy”, Dean blurts out, “We just came for a few drinks and a chat”. He kicks himself for how obvious he’s being. They are on a mission, though; there isn’t time for messing around.

“Is that so?”, her voice takes on a disappointing tone; her arm refuses to move from the Angel’s shoulders, though.

“Can you tell us more about the night the man was murdered?”, Cas not-so-subtly asks. Dean expects Jasmine to brush him off and bring up something else, but instead, she complies. “Sure, sugar. What do you want to know?”, she hums as her other hand traces down the length of Cas’s tie.

Dean doesn’t think he can endure much longer of this.

“Were you here when it happened?”, Cas questions. Dean feels like he’s third-wheeling more than he’s ever third-wheeled before; what kind of service is this? He thinks to himself sourly.

“Yes, I heard the commotion when one of our girls found the body”, she shudders at the recollection. “After that, we were evacuated and the police were called”, she concludes briefly. Nothing suspicious at face value.

“Did you know the vic?”, Dean interjects from across the table, the distance between him and them seeming further than ever. Jasmine gives a passing glance to Dean before answering, “No, I think he must have been a first timer”. It’s times like these where Dean wishes he had done his research; he can’t disprove nor substantiate that claim.

“Do you know who he came to see the night he died?”, Dean presses on; Jasmine replies, although her eyes are still fixated on Cas, “No, I was too preoccupied entertaining my clients”. Dean finds that fairly vague.

“So, no one else saw them either?”, Dean asks as Jasmine squints. The air begins to feel thicker; he can almost see the sparks igniting between the two of them as he continues questioning her.

“Not that I know of. All my attention goes to my clients”, she purrs, returning to Cas. Yeah, right, Dean thinks. All of her attention is going to one man and one man only.

Their conversation falls short quite quickly, as Dean and Cas seem to have gotten all the relevant information they need. Whether Jasmine is telling the truth or not, is another question. As much as Dean would like to push further – vent his not-so-subtle jealousy – he feels increasingly agitated watching this woman with her hands all over his- the Angel and is itching to leave.

“Well, I think we’ve had our fill of excitement today”, Dean says rather abruptly, uncaring of how uninterested he sounds. The cognitive dissonance rising within the hunter ignites a sense of shame; Jasmine is just doing her job, albeit not very well if she’s got favourites, but Dean’s never been one to act so coldly to a beautiful woman.

The way she’s all over Cas, though, seems to have drove him past the point of comfort.

“Aww, already?”, she pouts, “We were just getting started”. Her hand travels up to Cas’s jaw, caressing the stubble beneath her fingertips. Dean’s limit has officially been reached.

“Yes, already”, his voice sterner than he intended, “We’ll be leaving now”, he rises to his feet. Cas looks to Dean in part confusion, part gratefulness. Dean thinks he could see Jasmine’s eyes flash orange for a second. Maybe it was the light.

“Do come again”, she says, obviously directing it to Cas only. She slips a note into his trench coat pocket on their way out that Dean immediately clocks.

Fresh air at last. Dean forgot just how stuffy those places can be.

“Phew, am I relieved that’s over”, he sighs, gazing up to the night sky, now full of stars.

“Are you okay?”, he hears Cas voice behind him. His heart thumps.

“Oh- uh- yeah, just needed some air that wasn’t full of perfume and booze”, he says dismissively, turning to Cas. The Angel tilts his head in characteristic fashion – a quirk Dean has always found endearing.

“Really?”, Cas says doubtfully, “I thought you love these kinds of places”.

“Hey, what kind of man do you take me for?”, Dean raises an eyebrow. He isn’t entirely wrong, though, just not tonight.

“You were acting rather off the whole time, do you think she might be the culprit?”, Cas’s methodical way of thinking seeps through. If only that was the reason.

“I was?”, Dean tries to act innocent, knowing that Cas can probably see right through him.

“Yes, you came off slightly standoffish”, he admits.

“Well, that’s ‘cause I saw how uncomfortable you looked with how touchy feely she was getting”, Dean shrugs - not a complete lie, but not the complete truth either. Cas looks as if he’s assessing the reality of that statement. “I admit, she was quite forward”, he says, fixing his tie that had been scuffed up by Jasmine.

The indifference in Cas’s voice about the whole situation puts Dean’s mind at a bit more ease; the Angel had rarely shown an interest in anyone, for that matter. Sure, there was Meg, but that seemed like a friendship with benefits more than anything, and April… well that didn’t end well, either.

Can Angels even feel attraction? Dean begins to ponder. He feels like he’d rather not know the answer to that, more so to save any possible future disappointment.

“So, what now?”, Cas asks, his eyes glistening blue in the neon light of the club’s front. Dean can’t help but stare, his eyes travelling to the Angel’s lips, the same lips Jasmine had gotten so close to. He imagines how they’d feel, how soft and plump they look.

“Dean?”, Cas leans in slightly, his brows furrowing.

“Huh? Right- uh”, Dean fumbles, the dangerously close proximity of their faces throwing him off guard.

“First of all, lemme see the note she gave you”, Dean says, taking a cautious step back. Cas tilts his head in confusion.

“What note-“, he begins before Dean slips his hand into the side pocket of Cas’s trench coat. Cas goes stiff. Out he pulls a crumpled note, seemingly ripped out of a notebook, with the words “Let’s carry on our fun later xoxo” along with an address. Dean feels his blood rush through his veins.

Cas takes a look at the note, studying its contents with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is this an invitation to a date?”, he asks, raising his eyebrow. Dean can’t help but snort softly at the Angel’s bluntness.

“It’s an invitation to more than a date”, Dean smirks; Cas looks as if he understands. “I see”, he replies flatly. In any other situation, Dean would be cheering a friend on for bagging such a beautiful woman, but something about this doesn’t sit right with him. That, and his own personal reasons that he won’t get into.

“C’mon, let’s meet up with Sam and Jack. Maybe they’ve gotten something more useful”, Dean suggests with a nod from Cas.

Chapter Text

The patter of rain bounces off the windowsills of the motel room.

“So much for Summer”, Dean grumbles, his head on his hand. He watches as the rain droplets glide and glisten down his reflection.

“This sounds like a trap”, Sam says as he fumbles with the paper Dean and Cas brought back.

“’Course it is, Sammy”, Dean replies lazily, “Nice of her to invite us right to the prize, though, am I right?”

Sam looks apprehensive; Dean can guess the reason being Jack. To take him, or not to take him, that is the question.

“I’ll be fine”, Jack declares as if he’d been reading the brothers’ minds.

Jack had been desperate to prove himself to them all ever since they decided to take him in; Dean can see that. Of course, having an all-powerful Nephilim on your team sure makes things easier, but it comes with its costs.

Dean’s mind flickers back to the police station – Jack having ran away, confused and scared. He was like a ticking timebomb, ready to explode the second his emotions get the best of him.

Having said that, he’s improved on managing his abilities, but it definitely isn’t perfect. Jack’s trying, though, and that’s all they can ask for.

“Hey, Jack”, Dean calls out to him, who’s now pacing around the motel room, eager to defend his case, “Do you promise not to use your abilities unless we say so?”

“I promise”, Jack persists, his eyes unwavering and definite. Dean exhales briefly, he certainly fits in here.

“Alrighty, then we’re set”, Dean concludes, clapping his hands together. Sam, although still wearing an expression of worry, concedes. As protective as he is, he must let the baby bird take its first flight.

“Cas, you ready for your date?”, Dean smirks. Cas glares, “Are you ready?”, he echoes back. What’s that supposed to mean? Dean is about to throw out a witty comeback until Sam coughs awkwardly, reminding Dean that they’re not alone.

“So, we all remember the plan, right?”, Sam asks as the others nod.

“Time to smoke an evil bitch”, Dean salutes.

-

This is definitely a trap.

Cas had sensed an abnormality with Jasmine, something that didn’t sit quite right.

His attention at the time was admittedly elsewhere, however, as watching Dean’s reactions in that club only stirred something within Cas. It was difficult enough to rid himself of the events the day before, never mind watching Dean get so worked up over Jasmine’s flirting.

Cas had tried to convince himself what he saw in Dean’s head was an illusion, a sick and twisted desire that manifested itself into Cas’s own mind. However, his hyperawareness of Dean’s mannerisms and behaviour now makes it all the more difficult to deny.

Every time Dean’s eyes find themselves falling to Cas’s lips, he can’t help but feel exposed, like his own mind is being read in turn. He wonders if Dean imagines such scenes with their every interaction, or if it’s something he saves for the night when he’s alone with his thoughts.

Cas can only feel relieved that Dean hasn’t seemed to catch on; to him, Cas is most likely being his usual awkward self. Inside, though, he is at war with himself every second of the day. Yearning to push his limits, take a step over the wall he had so carefully curated these past few years, only to shrink in on himself again and clam up tighter than before.

It’s exhausting, to the point he feels genuine fatigue; he’s unsure whether this is due to the fact his grace is depleting more than anything else.

“Cas, you ready for your date?”, he hears Dean say all of a sudden, startling him out of his train of thought. Dean’s shift to teasing is ironic, given he was the one so worked up earlier. “Are you ready?”, Cas replies, feeling a sense of pride when he sees Dean’s dumbfounded face, most likely searching for a witty comeback.

Sam unknowingly saves Cas from further teasing, ensuring everyone knows their role in the plan.

Cas, of course, is the bait.

He had played the role of bait many times in the past, whether it was to lure out Demons or Angels, he did it all for the sake of Dean and Sam – his real family. Only, playing bait to a suspected fox spirit who wants to eat his heart is something new.

There’s a first time for everything, he thinks.

-

“I’ve been meaning to ask”, Sam says as they pull up outside the address given, “Kumiho’s are known to lure their victims with their charm, how come it didn’t work on you?”

Cas doesn’t know how to reply.

“He’s an angel”, Dean deadpans to his brother, as if that’s enough of a reason.

“Or she isn’t a Kumiho”, Sam counters.

“No, I’m sure it’s her”, Dean’s voice darkens as he peers out the car window.

Cas doesn’t have the heart to tell them that they’re both probably wrong. His diminishing grace has, in turn, given him attributes he had only associated with humans before: fatigue, thirst, hunger, desire.

It isn’t unreasonable to expect him to fall victim to a monster’s psychological illusions, in that case. Yet, it didn’t happen. At the time, Cas was too preoccupied with Dean’s reactions: the way his lips would twitch whenever Jasmine called Cas by a pet name, the clench of his jaw as she’d lay her hands on Cas’s clothes.

Cas had no interest for the beautiful woman exerting all of her wasted charm on him. Rather, he could only think of someone else.

Was Cas about to admit that to the brothers? He’d rather fall from Heaven ten more times before doing so.

“You remember the plan, Cas?”, Dean turns towards the Angel and the Nephilim in the back, his arm resting on the back of his seat. Cas had always found that attractive.

“Go along with whatever the heart-eating monster does”, Cas says flatly, earning a smirk from Dean.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds easy”, the hunter says. Cas huffs.

The door to the Impala clicks shut as they prepare to their stations. Cas will be in the house; Sam, Dean, and Jack will be keeping watch from outside. The view of the house comes into view as Cas makes his way to the entrance of the hedge way; it’s quite impressive.

The house is situated in a quiet neighbourhood dressed in greenery; each window emits a warm glow, surprisingly cozy-looking. For a suspected fox spirit, the house looks very… normal. The gravel path winding up to the front door crackles beneath every footstep.

“Psst, Cas”, he hears a whisper from behind the hedge he had just walked past, “If she says she wants to go to fifth base, she’s lying”. Cas doesn’t need to walk back to know whose voice that was, deciding to ignore it.

He feels a sense of déjà vu, a memory of his time as “Steve”, trudging up a similar gravel path to a suspected date. He recalls the advice Dean had given out after dropping him off, quite like he had just done now.

A contradictory mix of emotions seep through those memories; part shame, part heartache, part hope. Cas had arrived at Nora’s place, expecting it to be a date, only to be left with a small human to babysit. Looking back on it now still fills him with embarrassment.

In reality, he hadn’t been bothered what Nora felt for him, as he didn’t feel anything for her. Rather, he had hoped that finally, someone would want him, need him. Being left to fend for himself after he was made to leave the bunker had crushed any crumb of self-respect he still had in him back then.

Dean’s words still rattle through his mind – “You can’t stay”. He knows Dean was only trying to save his brother, a fact Cas clings onto for his own sake. But the relief of finally finding his way to the bunker, to his family, only for it to be thrown back in his face was something he hopes to never go through again.

Cas shakes his head, a futile attempt to rid his brain of the unpleasant memories and focus on the task at hand.

Knock, knock, knock.

He begins to feel apprehensive in the few seconds of interval. That is, until the door swings open, revealing what can only be described as pure sex appeal. There Jasmine stood, her devilish grin and her piercing hazel eyes, dressed in a tight-fitting crimson dress to match her lipstick.

Cas gulps. He hopes to God that she’s the Kumiho they’re hunting, for if not, he’ll certainly have an awkward conversation to handle.

“I’m so glad you came”, the sweet voice wraps itself around Cas, drawing him in. “Hello, Jasmine”, Cas replies, his voice crackly from the dryness in his throat. Jasmine grins as she gestures inside. “Come in, sunshine”.

-

“The folktales weren’t lying about the attractive woman part”, Sam says, ogling from behind the stone wall they’ve found themselves crouching against.

“You can say that again”, Dean says. He’s thankful it’s now the dead of night, with no one around to catch them peeping.

“This is the lady that’s been eating human hearts?”, Jack asks, the doubt in his voice clear as day.

“Looks can be deceiving, buddy”, Dean replies, patting the Nephilim on the shoulder.

They watch as Cas disappears into the house; Dean’s adrenaline begins to pick up. Luckily, Jasmine’s living room is situated at the back of the house, a clear view through the open curtains. The three hunters make their way to the back, finding themselves a hiding spot behind the brambles.

The distance proves it difficult to discern what is being said, as Jasmine sets Cas down on a velvety couch. Dean wonders what he would do were they to find out Jasmine is just a regular human. Would he still carry on with the plan and interrupt them? Or leave Cas to make the decision to leave himself.

He hopes that if the latter were to be true, that Cas would make the right decision.

All seems relatively normal; Cas and Jasmine are sat beside each other – too close for Dean’s comfort – as they talk. She pours a glass of wine for each of them. Dean wonders if Cas has ever tasted the sweet tang of red wine before; he’s given the Angel his fair share of beer, whisky, and liquor. A pang of disappointment floods his veins at the thought of Cas sharing a first time with someone else.

A painful few minutes pass of Dean and his two partners in crime huddling together behind some bushes; he begins to feel foolish. Sure, Jasmine came off quite strongly and had a predatory air about her, but she might turn out to just be a regular human.

As Dean’s doubts begin to bubble up, wondering if they should call the whole thing off, leave Cas be, he notices Jasmine standing up from the couch. Her movements are ever so agile, like a cat. She makes her way over to the mini bar behind the couch, now having Cas’s back to her.

“Hey”, Dean whispers out sharply. With a knowing look from his brother, they subconsciously make the decision to close in on the house, creeping along the overgrown lawn to the window.

Dean one side of the window, Sam and Jack the other side, they peer through as much as possible without risk of being caught.

Cas hasn’t noticed them as he’s seated stiffly on the couch, facing forward. A mumbled conversation reverberates off the window; Dean angles his ear to try and get a better listen. Cas has an unreadable expression on his face as he talks to Jasmine behind him, refusing to meet her gaze.

Suddenly, he drops his head low, like he’s apologetic. This seems to throw Jasmine off her form as her face contorts into a look of pure anger. What happens next is a flash of commotion, a desperate attempt at violence in the name of love.

She lunges forward to the couch, a blade in hand.

“Sam!”, Dean cries, gesturing Sam to back him up before disappearing to the back door. He hadn’t gotten a proper glance at the events that were unfolding following the attack; Dean was too focused on reaching the Angel.

The back door flies open with a kick; Dean rushes past the hallway ornamented with paintings and candles, finally reaching the living room after what feels like an eternity. The scene he enters into is confusing at best.

Jasmine has Cas pinned to the floor, hunching over him like a predator pinning its prey. Only, she’s crying. Her face stained with tears, she pierces him with her eyes, now glowing a bright orange hue. The blade still resides in her hand, desperately aching for a taste of flesh.

“Cas!”, Dean yells as Jasmine snaps her head around. He isn’t quite sure what the move is here; her actions are contradicting her apparent feelings.

“You”, she scowls, her eyes burning with anguish.

“One hell of a date you guys are on”, Dean mocks, earning a scoff from Jasmine.

“You don’t understand”, she spits, her attention falling to the Angel beneath her again. “I can give you everything you ever desire”, she pleads, her voice switching from each and every emotion.

“I’m sorry”, Cas says, his face a neutral expression, but his eyes hold a deep melancholy.

“Get off him!”, Jack cries out behind Sam, lunging towards Jasmine. In the blink of an eye, she swings her blade, slashing Jack ‘s arm, before retreating back. Her stance definitely reads wild animal.

“Jack! You okay?”, Sam yells out, crouching to Jack’s side. “I’m alright, look!”, Jack says confidently, revealing the already healed forearm. Sam’s face washes over with relief.

Dean takes this opportunity to rush to Cas’s side, helping him up off the floor with an arm over his shoulder. “Hey, take it easy”, Dean whispers as he searches the Angel for wounds.

Apart from the slight cut on his cheek, he seems intact.

“So, you’re the infamous Kumiho that’s been feasting on hearts, huh”, Dean angles to Jasmine, now huddled in the corner of the room. Her eyes glow with vitriol, gripping her blade.

“You think I’m doing this for fun?”, Jasmine spits. Dean doesn’t quite know how to answer that.

“Uh, yes?”

“I’m looking for my mate”, she declares, still in a defensive position.

Dean looks to his encyclopaedic brother for help. “I’ve read about this somewhere”, Sam begins, “Kumihos will sometimes search for a mate – a lifelong partner. This doesn’t always end very well for the human, though”.

Jasmine’s face turns to that of sorrow.

“I admit, the last human I tried to bond with didn’t survive the process”, she says dejectedly. Dean can’t fathom what he’s hearing.

“But you”, she says as her gaze flees to Cas, “You seemed… different”.

He’s an Angel, of course he seems different, Dean thinks.

“We could be happy together”, she pleads. Dean almost feels sorry at the futile attempt being made.

“I’m sorry”, Cas starts, standing straight to face her, “I can’t reciprocate your feelings”.

Dean feels his stomach turn. He never thought he’d hear those very words being spoken from the Angel; he figures this will be new fuel for future nightmares.

“Why? I thought we had a connection”, Jasmine cries. Dean doubts that; the only connection they had was her hands forcefully all over him.

“My heart lies elsewhere”, Cas confesses, his voice croaks with the raw emotion in his words. Dean’s chest squeezes as nausea fills his stomach.

Jasmine doesn’t seem to take no for an answer, however, as she bares her teeth. “Then I’ll just have to persuade you”, she says, before jumping to take another swing.

Dean dodges the attack, swerving as she passes like lightning. The records weren’t joking about the speed. Sam swoops in for the attack, his blade at the ready.

Jasmine’s eyes home in on her target, slicing and slashing in coordinated movements. Sam falls back against the couch, blood dripping from his shoulder. “Sam!”, Dean bellows out, his guard down. Jasmine takes this opportunity of weakness, kicking Dean back with every ounce of force.

Next was Cas’s turn; Angel blade in hand, he lunges for the Kumiho. All of their attempts to lay a scratch on Jasmine were futile until now. Her speed outmatches theirs by a mile. Cas – whether it was her affection for him rendering her hesitant to fight back – manages to graze her arm.

“Why?!”, she screeches, the mascara trickling down her flushed cheeks. Her movements have become erratic, swinging her blade in every direction as sorrow completely overthrows what sense of order she had left in her.

Cas manages to get the best of her, circling around until he has her in his brace. Now behind Jasmine, with her shoulders roped in his arms, he yells out to Dean. “Dean, now!”, he cries out. Dean, like a sleeper cell being activated, reaches for his blade that had been knocked out of his hand with the kick, and jumps to his feet, thrusting the blade through Jasmine’s heart with force.

She cries, her voice full of agony, despair, hatred. It was a scream Dean wishes to never hear again. In a way, he could sympathise with Jasmine; after all, she was doing this out of love – a twisted form of love.

Her body drops to the floor with a thud, the glowing life of her eyes dissipating as she lie limp. The room floods with silence as the hunters catch their breath.

Dean’s mind is a mess; what was supposed to be a simple hunt turned into a soap opera, not to mention Cas’s reasoning for rejecting her. Was he being truthful, or purely creating a distraction for her?

Before Dean could wrack his brain for answers, he hears the low pound of another body dropping to the floor. Cas lays there, sprawled out next to Jasmine. “Cas!”, Dean strains, falling to the Angel as he takes him in his arms.

I couldn’t see any wounds, Dean rationalises to himself, frantic.

Dean’s frenzied hands search all over for any injuries before checking his pulse. A low thump bounces back against his fingers; relief courses through his veins, battling with the adrenaline.

“He’s unconscious, that’s all”, Sam breathes out, crouching down to Cas before snapping Dean out of his trance. The two brothers heave the Angel off the floor, each arm around each of their shoulders.

“Idiot”, Dean sighs shakily, his grip on Cas’s waist tightens, for if he lets go, he feels he will forever lose him.

Chapter Text

Chirp, chirp.

Castiel gazes up at the cloudless summer sky, a weightlessness encompassing his body as he lay there on the freshly-cut grass.

Birdsong lullabies him into a meditative state, feeling the most at-peace he has ever been. Where he is, he doesn’t know, nor does he care. He relishes the sensation of having rid himself of the unpleasant memories, the corruptive emotions he bores every day.

In the distance, he hears a soft strum of a guitar, one that harmonises with the birds twittering away. As he rises, the Angel takes in the scenic view of the vast landscape; grass coats the ground for as far as the eye can see, trees placed sporadically amongst the hills.

Am I in Heaven? Castiel wonders.

After a second of thought, he knows that can’t be true. Heaven has long cast him out, thrown him to the side, only to be called when they find use for him.

The melody of the guitar becomes clearer as Cas gets a bearing of his surroundings. Under a tree in the near distance, his eyes land on a familiar silhouette of a figure, sat comfortably underneath the rustling leaves.

“Dean?”, Cas says, aware that his voice can’t be heard from so far away.

As if entranced, Cas rises to his feet, his legs taking him to the source of the sound. As he approaches, he hears the accompaniment of singing; the voice is mesmerising – gentle and low, like honey. The Angel doesn’t recognise the song, nor can he really make out any words; it’s strange, the singing sounds otherworldly.

Cas watches from afar, the figure coming into view now. Dean sits alone, strumming each string with every harmony of his voice, alongside the creaking bark and the rustling leaves creating a cacophony of sound.

Peace. Castiel feels at peace.

Oh, how he wishes that this is real, that this is their life. No demons, no Angels, no pain. An ache wells up in the Angel’s chest, gnawing at the back of his throat as his eyes prickle with tears. The sting sits on his eyelashes while his gaze refuses to leave Dean.

Cas hadn’t heard Dean sing until now, not properly, at least. They had days where they’d do karaoke, often after Dean had far too many drinks and it ended up sounding more like shouting than singing. But this is different. This is pure, from the heart.

The Angel could listen to this for eternity.

Just as Cas feels himself drift into a subconscious state again, the strumming stops. He blinks himself awake, wondering why the lullaby had ended so abruptly. Dean, his back facing the Angel, swivels his head to meet Cas’s gaze.

Those bright green eyes again – so captivating. Their eyes lock for only a moment, before Cas feels himself pulling away from this world. He yearns to stay, to listen to Dean for days on end, but the world doesn’t allow him.

In a flash, Cas’s eyes open wide to meet the grungy ceiling of the familiar motel room.

“Morning, sunshine”, a low voice echoes from beside him. Dean emerges over the side of the bed, two coffee cups in hand as he smiles gently to the Angel below.

“Dean?”, Cas croaks out. His body feels like dead weight as he props himself on his elbows.

“You were out for the whole night”, Dean tells him, “Love can be exhausting, huh?”

Dean’s words hit the Angel deeper than he’ll ever know. Cas takes the coffee cup that Dean had offered, feeling more awake with just a sip.

Sleep had been an alien concept to Cas until recently; watching Dean and Sam sleep every night had made him wonder what they dream about, if at all. Whether it was an act of socialisation, to feel a part of their routine, or if it was out of a necessity to rest, Cas found himself using the spare room in the bunker more often than not.

Only, he hadn’t dreamt until now. The dream sits in his mind, he cherishes it, recounting it as thoroughly as he can in case he starts to forget.

“Jasmine, what happened to her?”, Cas asks, part guilty that he wasn’t there to clean up his mess.

“We took care of the body. Gave her a hunter’s burial – Sam’s idea, not mine”, Dean says nonchalantly, although Cas can tell Dean had most likely agreed with the sentiment. “I see”, Cas replies quietly, “I hope she’s at peace”.

“Well, with the things she’s done, I doubt that”, Dean says crudely, earning a sour, but compliant look from the Angel. “Right”, Cas replies briefly.

Dean, looking like he’s battling his own mind, sits on the edge of the bed, his thumb anxiously stroking the rim of the steaming mug. “So, what you said back there”, he starts. Cas gives him a confused look.

“What you told Jasmine before she hulked out”, Dean clarifies, and Cas can tell where this conversation is headed. “Were you saying that to get her off your ass? Or…”, the hunter’s question trails off, seemingly realising how forward the question sounds. He faces away from the Angel, refusing to look him in the face.

“Yes”, Cas replies, and Dean’s finger twitches, “I knew she wouldn’t believe me otherwise, so I made something up on the spot”. Uncertainty and guilt wraps itself around Cas; he knows he’s lying to Dean’s face, saving his own skin, his dignity. But being truthful will only create more problems for Cas right now, and he’s too exhausted to even fathom the consequences.

“Oh”, Dean’s flat response only exacerbates Cas’s guilt for some reason. “Well, not that it mattered, she couldn’t care less if you were married”, the hunter goes on, his voice trying to keep up the usual wit it carries.

Marriage, Cas thinks. That would be nice; he pictures the dream he had, the simplicity of it all, how content he felt.

“So, are we done in Illinois?”, Cas asks. Dean nods, “Another six hour drive back home, can’t wait”, he groans. Cas huffs with a smile as his stomach growls.

“Woah there, tiger”, Dean chuckles, “Sam and Jack will be back soon with breakfast, think you can hang on ‘til then?”, he asks earnestly. Cas’s heart thumps with the sweetness in Dean’s voice, just like in his dream - the sweet honey voice.

“Yes”, Cas smiles back.

They share a moment of unspoken comfort in each other’s silence, their eyes studying one another’s face. Cas doesn’t know how much longer he can take this before he cracks. His feelings for Dean have only seemed to strengthen with each and every passing moment; the recent events haven’t helped in the slightest, either.

Ever since the other day when he read Dean’s mind, Cas has felt at odds with himself, wondering whether to test his luck with Dean in hopes his thoughts reflected his true feelings. The way he reacted with Jasmine only solidified his suspicions. But that is all they are – suspicions.

Cas’s fear of losing Dean outweighs that of anything else, but his need to be closer to Dean clouds all judgement. His hand moves as if it has a mind of its own, reaching out to touch Dean’s. His hand is warm, heated by the cup of coffee now beginning to go cold.

The hunter stiffens slightly at the sudden contact, eyeing Cas with intent. Cas doesn’t move his gaze away from those green eyes glistening back at him. He envelops the back of Dean’s scarred and calloused hand in his.

“Thank you, Dean”, Cas says, his voice full of endearment.

Dean’s eyes widen slightly, unmoving in the seat he’s made himself on the edge of the bed.

“For what?”, he whispers back, eyes darting from one corner of the Angel’s face to the other.

“Everything”, Cas replies genuinely, “Thank you for taking me back”. Dean’s face is that of melancholy and understanding.

They had their differences in the matter of Jack; their last parting wasn’t that of positive feelings, and Cas regrets it to this day. Were that to be his last encounter with Dean, he’d ensure he knew just how much Cas cares for him, how much he loves him.

For Dean to welcome him back and look past Cas’s mistakes is something the Angel can only hold close to his heart. He’d do the same for Dean in a heartbeat, after all.

Their shared moment of appreciation for one another gives Cas a sudden courage, one he feels won’t come around again so easily. Dean is right in front of him, open and attentive; if any time is right, this would be it.

“Dean, I-“

Cas’s words are harshly cut off by the commotion coming through the motel door. He retracts his hand swiftly, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Dean mirrors his actions, standing to his feet in a flash.

“’Bout time you guys got here”, Dean says, desperately trying to hide the awkwardness in his stance. Cas looks over to see Sam give his brother a confused glance for a moment.

“My apologies, princess”, Sam mocks, dropping the bag of diner takeout onto the table. “Oh, hey Cas, how you feeling?”, he adds on as Jack makes his way to the bedside.

“I’m good. Just had to rest a bit”, the Angel smiles to the two, grateful for their worry.

“Man, am I starving”, Dean stretches, shifting to the table away from Cas.

Cas eyes the hunter as he walks away, an indiscernible feeling arising from within.

Chapter Text

Back to the bunker at last.

The trip back from Illinois was uneventful, which meant time-dragging.

Better being uneventful and safe, at least, Dean thinks to himself.

Almost the entirety of the drive back, Dean had been lost in thought – driving on autopilot. The conversation he and Cas had earlier in the morning still lingers in his mind - the way the Angel’s voice rang out with heartfelt sincerity.

That, and the unfinished sentence that left Dean on the edge of his seat – the bed. Sam’s timing had always been impeccable, saving his brother as he’s only seconds away from being mauled by yet another monster. But this was the one time – the one time that Dean wished his brother hadn’t interrupted.

Cas may have only been expressing his gratitude, hell, even if he had come out with the “I love you”, it wouldn’t have been completely unexpected; Dean’s heard it before. Granted, it was never directed solely at him as they sat on the same bed as each other, their hands on one another… but that’s beside the point.

Dean had gotten better at reading Cas over the years, his small tells and mannerisms that give him away, but this is different. Dean isn’t relying on the Angel, he’s relying on trusting himself – trusting that his intuition is right, that what he’s suspecting isn’t just self-indulgent delusion.

Cas’s demeanour on the ride home was just as perplexing as it was the day he read the hunter’s mind. Dean isn’t stupid, he knows Cas must have seen something when searching through his memories, he just isn’t sure what. Unfortunately for Dean, his imaginative fantasies were never real enough to be memories, so what was so incriminating that would cause Cas to malfunction like that?

He knows he’ll have to bring it up to Cas at some point, if not for Dean’s own curiosity and clarification, he’s more worried about the guy than anything else. He, of all people, knows how it feels to die and suffer death’s aftertaste. The Empty sounds just as bad, if not worse than Hell in a way.

The nothingness, the absolute void. Dean imagines how alone Cas must have been, how hopeless it would have felt to awaken and see nothing but… well, nothing. He can’t imagine coming back from that and being completely fine. Maybe Cas’s perplexing behaviour was a result of adjusting back to existing on Earth.

Dean could spend hours trying to decipher everything and nitpick the minute details until his brain fries, but he’s had an eventful enough few days as it is. What he really could do with is a good beer and a night in the Dean Cave.

The Dean Cave had been something he’d been cooking up for a while now, making use of one of the bunker’s many vacant rooms. He hadn’t quite made the finishing touches with the TV yet, but it was coming along well.

“Anyone up for a game of foosball?”, Dean slumps his duffel onto one of the library’s seats, too lazy to unpack for now. Sam gives him a confused look. “With what foosball table?”, he asks, puzzled.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know”, Dean smirks smugly. He gestures, leading the hunters to one of the bunkers’ rooms that hadn’t been touched since they moved in - at least, that’s what Sam thought. Swinging the door open with pride, Dean reveals his greatest treasure.

The walls adorned with ACDC and Led Zeppelin posters surround the group, all of them in awe. It feels like stepping into an alternate reality, one without the weight of the world resting on their shoulders. “When did you have the time to do all this?”, Sam asks in disbelief.

“You make time, Sammy”, Dean claps his brother on the shoulder.

“So, who’s up for a game?”

-

The game is on.

Dean stands with his team player, Cas, on one side of the table, shooting competitive glances to Sam and Jack on the other side.

Sam had protested, asking why Cas had to be on Dean’s team; Dean countered, saying he had to teach him the rules, just like Sam would have to teach Jack. Although having responded with a suspicious look, Sam conceded as he showed Jack which players on the table relate to what role.

Dean’s reasoning stood logical, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a selfish part of him that wanted to be on Cas’s team.

“So, you ready to get your ass beat?”, Dean smirks to his brother’s team.

“Speak for yourself”, Sam counters, the demeanour of a hunter seeping through his expression.

“You ready, Cas?”, Dean turns to the Angel who seems to be studying each of the plastic players on the table. “Not really, but I’ll try my best”, he replies earnestly. Dean chuckles. “Attaboy”, he pats Cas’s back, earning a timid smile. The Angel seems to be less tense already.

“Here goes nothing”, Dean declares, placing the ball in the middle of the table; his hands grip the handles with determination.

“3, 2, 1, Go!”

Immediately, Sam shoots the first kick; his monstrous reflexes coming in handy at times like this. “Shit”, Dean hisses, attempting to regain control over the ball as it shoots to one side of the table over to the next in a flash.

“Jack, here!”, Sam calls out to his teammate; Jack, having swiftly learnt the rules of the game, receives the ball, flinging it to Dean and Cas’s goal. Maybe putting an all-powerful being with a hunter like Sam was a bad idea, now that Dean thinks about it. He wonders if he was making a mistake being so cocky.

Just as the ball is about to kiss the goal and Dean is about to eat his words, Cas grasps the goalkeeper’s handle, moving at lightspeed as he deflects the comet barrelling towards his player. This isn’t your average game of foosball, that’s for sure.

“Nice save, Cas!”, Dean praises as he looks to the Angel beside him, their shoulders brush one another with the excitement. “Thanks”, Cas replies proudly, meeting Dean’s gaze to give him a smile. Dean’s heart squeezes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves”, Sam remarks, snatching the ball off Dean’s player while he’s distracted with ogling at Cas. “Hey!”, Dean snaps, his lips curling despite the apparent threat in his voice.

Sam and Jack make a good team – Sam being the defense and Jack being the offense. Dean and Cas had adopted a similar playing style, what with Cas being on their goalkeeper’s side. Their times hunting together came in handy in situations like now: the quick reactions, the coordinated movements, the synchronised teamwork.

After a heated ten minutes, the teams were neck and neck, 4-4 all around. They had decided on first to five; Dean pretends like he planned for that target once Sam’s team had reached three goals.

“Dean, do you want to switch positions?”, Cas asks, focusing on keeping the ball a safe distance from their goal. Dean’s mind wanders to unholy places at that innocent question as he blanks for a moment. “Oh- uh- sure. Sounds good”, he stutters. Sam snorts from across the table; Dean decides to ignore his pain-in-the-ass little brother.

Cas’s suggestion turned out to be a clever play, as their speed and coordination picks up after Dean takes the reigns of the goalkeeper. Dean having played this game religiously as a kid, knows all of the defensive strategies; although Jack is a strong player, he’s inexperienced. Dean uses this to his advantage.

Cas plays his part well, shooting the ball to the direction of the rival team’s goal any chance he gets. “Now, Cas!”, Dean shouts; Cas complies, swiftly swerving his player to dodge Sam’s defense. The ball flies from Cas’s kick, zig-zagging past the various plastic figurines before hitting the goal with force.

“Goallllll!”, Dean cries, pointing at his brother who rolls his eyes. He raises his hand, inviting a celebratory high-five from his teammate. Cas looks in confusion for a second before the wires in his brain connect. He meets Dean’s hand as the clap of their palms echoes throughout the reverberant room.

Dean hadn’t had this much fun in a while; he looks to his teammate beside him, grinning with glee, then to his rivals across the table, pretending to be bitter but the hunter notices their lips curling into smiles. This is what it’s like to have a family again.

“Who’s up for round two?”

-

The bunker’s atmosphere was that of relaxation, a comfortability that had not been felt for some time. Jack insisted on practicing his foosball skills after their fifth game; everyone else exhausted and in need of a beer or two, had left him to it.

The night grew as the three hunters chatted over their drinks, recounting some of the sillier cases they’ve encountered in their time; Cas wore an expression of fondness the entire time, listening to the brothers’ banter and their bickering over who really ganked which monster.

These are times he had wished for back when he fell from Heaven – to sit back and reminisce with the people he cares about most, in the place he feels like he finally belongs. Granted, it was a rocky road to arrive here, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Alright, I’m hitting the hay”, Sam announces as he stretches comically. Dean makes a sound of disappointment, “Such a party pooper”, he says lazily. “Yeah, yeah. Only, I’ll be the one complaining when I have to drag your ass out of bed in the morning”, Sam retorts, waving behind himself as he leaves the room before Dean can muster up a comeback.

Cas beams as his chest fills with the familiar fullness he’s been experiencing so often recently. Dean turns back from where Sam had left after cursing him under his breath, meeting Cas’s gaze; his eyes soften slightly. “So, Cas”, he begins. The Angel’s heart thumps at his name being uttered so sweetly.

“How are you?”, Dean asks, the hint of intoxication lacing his words – most likely due to the night’s excitement more than the measly two beers he’s had. “I’m fine, how are you, Dean?”, Cas replies nonchalantly, although his palms begins to feel clammy.

“No, no, I’m asking you”, Dean clarifies, faux stern, “How have you been since… y’know, returning from the dead for the fifth time?”. Cas huffs at the fact that isn’t a joke despite it sounding like one. “Well, I believe I’ve adjusted rather quickly. I’m familiar with this, after all”, Cas replies, smiling weakly.

Dean chuckles softly, although his face tells Cas that he only feels worse. “I’ve noticed you’ve been pretty… how do I put this… human, lately”, Dean says, “I mean, more than usual”. Cas nods; nothing gets past this hunter.

“It’s true, I’ve begun to experience human necessities again”, Cas starts, “Hunger, thirst, sleep”.

“So, is it your Angle mojo running out of battery?”, Dean asks, his head resting atop his hand as he takes a sip from the near-empty beer bottle. “Close”, Cas replies, “Heaven’s powers haven’t exactly been… powerful recently. It seems we are not the all-powerful beings we were once known as”. The Angel’s face falters, reminiscent of the time he first descended to Earth to help Dean – how strong he was, how useful.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, all that Angel juice turns them into dicks anyway”, Dean shrugs. Cas exhales softly; he knows this is Dean’s way of comforting him, and he appreciates it more than he knows. “Besides, being human isn’t all bad”, Dean continues, “Takes a lot less to feel the good stuff, if y’know what I mean”, he winks as he cheers his beer bottle. Cas chuckles.

“It’s true, I have noticed that I feel more than I used to”, Cas admits, unsure if this is the direction he wants to steer the conversation, but it’s too late. Dean raises an eyebrow inquisitively, “You mean, like, feelings?”, he asks. “Mmh”, Cas hums, “They weren’t unfamiliar to me before, especially not in the past few years. But it seems like they’re making themselves known more often than not now”.

The admission from the Angel comes at a surprise of both him and Dean; Cas isn’t particularly one for talking about himself, never mind his feelings. Neither is Dean, for that matter. But here he is, hearing him out with all sincerity.

“Can you describe these feelings?”, Dean’s voice wavers slightly, his eyes flickering from Cas’s to yet another random object in the bunker’s library every few seconds. Cas stops to think for a second; he eyes the hunter who is now struggling to hold eye contact, wondering if he should lay it all out here and now, relieve the weight off his chest he had been carrying for god-knows how long.

“Well, for one, I definitely feel bad in the mornings”, Cas says flatly. Dean’s expression flashes a look of disappointment for a second – quick enough to go unnoticed in any other case – before he laughs. “Yeah, that makes us two, buddy”, he grins. Cas smiles back despite the nagging ache at the pit of his stomach.

“Dean”, he says, catching the attention of the hunter in a heartbeat, “Do you like to sing?”

“What?”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Beep, beep, beep, bee-

Dean hurls his alarm clock to the wall, silencing it with the sheer impact. He had noticed the clock read 10AM before throwing it to its death.

“Urgh”, he groans, flipping to his stomach as he squeezes his pillow. It’s too early for this shit, he thinks.

Last night’s events – added onto the rest of yesterday - had rendered him exhausted; he doesn’t even recall changing clothes or getting into bed, for that matter. He figures he was too lost in a state of anguish and confliction to be cognizant at the time.

The realisation hits him like a bag of bricks, remembering the flushed, tear-filled face of Cas as he gave away his feelings, hand-wrapped and secured with a bow. Only for Dean to throw it back at him.

He hopes to God that Sam has found another case already, something to occupy Dean’s mind.

-

“Wow, you look awful”, Sam remarks from the kitchen table, eating another one of his rabbit food salads, at 10:30 in the morning, at that.

“Shut it”, Dean snaps, dragging his feet along the kitchen floor as he trudges to the coffee machine.

“I warned you not to go crazy with the drinks”, his brother says, like he had been expecting this. Dean ignores him as he fumbles to find a mug.

The bitter taste of coffee helps somewhat with Dean’s grogginess as he makes his way to the table, placing himself across from Sam. He tries his hardest to avoid eye contact or a possible conversation starter that could lead to talking about last night.

Sam doesn’t get the memo, though.

“Have you seen Cas?”, he asks, taking another bite of some weird-looking leaf. Dean nearly chokes on his coffee, spluttering as Sam eyes him suspiciously.

“No, why’d you ask?”, Dean replies more defensively than he had intended.

“He’s normally up and around by now, but there’s no sight of him”

“The guy’s probably still getting his beauty sleep, he’s grown out of being a morning person now that he actually sleeps”, Dean says as nonchalantly as he can muster. Sam hums, “I guess you’re right”.

“What about Jack?”, Dean not-so subtly steers the conversation elsewhere, “Is he around?”

Sam sighs wearily, “Yeah, had me play against him in another three games of foosball… or was it four”, he recounts. Dean snorts, “Kid’s training for the big leagues”.

“Speaking of…”, Sam begins, “Don’t you think we should start looking for a way to open the rift again?”. Dean had almost forgotten about the elephant in the room, “Yes!”, he shoots up. Sam frowns in confusion.

“What’s got you fired up all of a sudden?”, he says; Dean can tell he’s trying to read through him. Dean coughs awkwardly, “If I recall, you were the one that was bitching about doing a normal case instead of opening the rift”, he retorts.

“For good reason”, Sam counters, “I’m just wondering what’s got your panties in a bunch”.

“Nothing has my panties in a bunch”, Dean scowls, “I just figured we should get busy trying to open this damn rift”.

“Mhm”, Sam hums doubtfully, but drops the interrogation. “Go see if Jack’s on board, then”, he suggests.

“Yes, mother”, Dean replies sarcastically.

-

What Dean walks into leaves him stunned and mostly confused.

There Jack is, playing a game of foosball against… himself? Each shot he takes on one side is deflected by himself on the other side; he uses his teleportation to make things easier.

“Uh, hey Jack”, Dean says, dumbfounded.

“Dean! Good morning”, he says gleefully after having scored against himself.

“I see you’ve channelled your inner athlete”, the hunter remarks, amused. “Of course, I’ve got to beat you and Cas next time”, Jack says determined. Cas. Right. Dean recalls how much joy he had felt playing alongside him in those stupid games. A twinge of guilt hits him in his chest.

“How have you been, lately?” Dean tries to avoid talking about the Angel, feeling like a pathetic grade schooler. “I’m good”, Jack replies positively, “I want to work on getting stronger so I can fight like you guys!”

Dean welcomes this newfound optimism that their group had been lacking for a while.

“Good, ‘cause we’ll need your help with opening the rift again”, Dean says; he notices the flash of uncertainty across Jack’s face. “I’m not sure how I did it, though”, he says with disappointment. He looks like a dejected puppy.

“No problem, that’s what research is for”, Dean pats the Nephilim on the shoulder, feeling reminiscent of his talks he once had with Ben – encouraging him when he had his moments of doubt. Jack looks up to Dean with promise in his eyes, “Okay, I’ll help you, Sam and Cas as much as I can”. Dean gives him a tired smile.

“Where is Cas, by the way?”, the inevitable question hits Dean in the face again. Why is everyone asking him?

“Probably sleeping like a baby right now”, Dean huffs, “I’ll go wake him up in a sec”. Jack beams back, “You guys are close, huh”. That came out of nowhere; Dean doesn’t know how to reply.

“He talks about you and Sam a lot. Ever since he came back from the Empty, he’s been telling me about all the fun adventures you’ve been on together”, Jack says fondly. “Really?”, Dean asks, feeling more guilty than ever.

“Yep, he really cares about you guys. I’m glad I was taken in by you all”, Jack’s words hit close to home for Dean. His treatment towards Jack at first was unpleasant at best; he still regrets the lack of faith he had in him. Hearing him now, Dean thinks he’ll do good for this world. He knows it.

“C’mon kid, you go pester Sam and I’ll wake Cas up”, Dean smiles, earning a “Yessir”, from the Nephilim.

-

Knock, knock.

Silence.

Knock, knock, knock.

Again, nothing.

Dean taps his feet anxiously against the cold hard floor. It’s been three minutes now of standing outside Cas’s door – half of that time being him working up the courage to take the first knock.

If he’s asleep, he sure is in a deep sleep.

Dean contemplates for a second before taking the doorknob in his hand, twisting it ever so quietly. Surprisingly, the door creaks open without resistance; Cas must leave his doors unlocked, Dean thinks. That is, until he gets a view of the room - the empty room.

The bed is half-made; it seems like an attempt was made to throw the sheets over the bed haphazardly. He must have slept, at least.

What he did after that is a mystery, as Dean notices the rest of the room remaining as it was when they first moved in. When Cas would occasionally go up to Heaven on business, he’d let Dean and the others know; Dean expects that more now that Jack is here. However, his departure has gone unnoticed until now.

He fumbles his pockets for his phone, scrolling down the list of contacts until he reaches Cas. Although the last thing he wants is to talk to the Angel right now, Dean figures he has no choice. That, and he’s worried Cas might’ve left because of last night.

The phone’s dial ringtone pierces the otherwise silent room; Dean’s pulse quickens with every ring. “You have reached-“, Dean shuts his phone off before the voicemail starts. Now, he’s worried. It isn’t unusual for Cas to not pick up his phone; half the time, he doesn’t even know he has one. But given the circumstances, it’s more than concerning.

“What’s taking you guys so long-“, Sam starts to say as he emerges behind Dean, stopping as he notices the lack of Cas in the room.

“Where’s Cas?”, he asks, confused.

“That’s what I’d like to know”, Dean replies, beginning to stress that this is all on him.

He shoots Cas a quick text: Hey, where are you?

“Did he say he was going to be out today?”, his brother voices. “No, but I can guess why”, Dean sighs at his brother’s scepticism.

“Did something happen between you two?”, the long-awaited question finally leaves Sam’s lips.

Dean rubs his temples as he makes his way to the edge of the bed to fall onto. “I might’ve fucked up”, he admits. Sam noticing the seriousness in his voice, closes the door behind him and pulls out the creaky desk chair to sit on.

“What do you mean?”, he asks, his voice softening.

“Well, Cas sorta confessed his love to me last night”, the words hang on Dean’s lips as he cringes with the thought of Sam now knowing. “He what?!”, Sam says exasperatedly. Dean shushes him. “It was a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing, believe me, I was just as surprised”, he sighs.

“Wait, but wouldn’t that be a good thing?”, Sam asks as if it was so simple. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, Dean glares, although he knows the answer. “Don’t play dumb, Dean. You think I can’t tell the way you look at him as if he’s the only thing on this Earth?”, Sam says flatly.

“Hey, hey, what the hell, man”, Dean blurts out, flustered, “Don’t input your little fanfiction into my life”. Sam snorts at the deep crimson Dean’s face holds.

“Either way, why would he have left?”, Sam continues on topic. Dean braces himself for the response he’s about to get from his brother. “Well… I didn’t exactly give him a proper answer”, he admits, embarrassed at the way he turns into a thirteen year-old girl whenever it comes to Cas.

“What?”, Sam says dumbfounded, “Why?”. That’s something Dean would like to know too. “I don’t know, I just froze”, he drops his head to the floor. Sam gives him a sympathetic look. “You’re scared”, he says.

“You think I don’t know that?”, Dean snaps, “Sammy, every time I get close to someone, they either end up dying or forgetting I even exist”. His words hold a bitter grudge. If there’s one man who can relate, it’d be Sam. Losing Jessica changed him, and Dean doubts there is a day that Sam doesn’t think about her.

“You don’t know that, though”, Sam reassures, “Plus, Cas is a friggin’ Angel. If there’s one person you should feel safe being with, it’s him”. His words hold truth, but it does nothing to settle Dean’s worries. Cas’s grace is depleting little by little, and although he can defend himself, so could Dad, and Ellen, and Jo.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off remaining pure”, Dean tries to joke.

“Is that what you really want, though?”, Sam’s question hits where it hurts. Of course it isn’t. What Dean wants is to embrace Cas and never let him go, to continue living here in the bunker together, waking up beside each other every morning.

“Look, Dean. I get you’re scared. But you can’t let fear decide your life”, Sam continues, “Plus, from what I’ve gathered, it seems like Cas would agree”. Dean tilts his head to meet Sam’s gaze. Thinking of Cas, feeling dejected and alone, Dean feels the sudden urge to see him. He isn’t sure what he’d tell him yet, but he knows he wants to see him, to let him know he’s loved.

“Thanks, Sammy”, Dean smiles wearily at his brother, “I just wish he’d pick up his damn phone”.

“Have you tried praying to him?”, Sam suggests, and Dean looks at him like he’s just cracked the Da Vinci code. “You’re a genius, you know that”, Dean claps Sam’s shoulder before making his way to the door. “Thank me later”, Sam calls out from behind.

-

The crisp air of early September brushes Dean’s cheeks. He’s glad he put on an extra layer before leaving.

Where he’s leaving to, he isn’t sure. Anywhere that isn’t in the bunker, is what he knows.

He finds a clearing through the trees by the bunker’s entrance, leading to an open space that looks like it could snugly fit a campfire and tent. Standing at the centre, like he’s ready to perform a summoning ritual, he concentrates on channelling Castiel.

“Cas, are you out there?”, he says aloud, feeling quite exposed at first. It had been some time since he last had to pray to him.

“If you can hear me, I want to say something”

“I get it if you don’t wanna hear me out, trust me, I wouldn’t want to either”

His voice croaks at the cold air hitting his lungs. That, and the bundle of emotions bubbling up to the surface.

“But I’m going to say this anyway, and I want you to hear it”

“I’m sorry about last night. I froze and I left you hanging at a time you needed an answer the most”

Cas hasn’t appeared yet; Dean is part grateful because the thought of saying this to his face might give him a heart attack.

“The truth is… I was scared”

“I’m so scared, Cas”

Dean’s voice lowers as he knows he can’t backtrack from this now.

“I’m scared of losing you again”

“I’m scared of what that would do to me”

“But that meant you had to suffer. I was a dick to you and I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve done things differently”

At this point, Dean doesn’t even know if he’s getting through to Cas. But it feels cathartic to release his feelings like this, so he carries on.

“You know that I struggle with expressing my emotions sometimes. In the worst of times, I either go silent or say some dumb shit I don’t mean”, he admits. He’s admitting things he’s never made known to anyone before.

“But believe me when I say this…”

“I love you”

He breathes out sharply, in shock that he actually uttered those words after so long of restraining himself

“Cas, I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve known”

“When you came back from the Empty, I vowed to never let myself have this, because if I do, there’s a chance I’ll lose it again”

“But damnit, I can’t help it anymore”

His eyes prickle with tears. He thinks for a second that he had been talking to the wind, straining his voice like this for no reason. That is, until he hears a rustle behind him.

“Dean”, Cas’s voice that Dean had missed so dearly echoes back through the wind.

The familiar trench coat comes into view, accompanied by the sweet teary-eyed expression smiling back. Before another word is uttered between the two, Dean walks to the Angel and wraps him in his arms. Cas hugs back tightly; the warmth of their bodies pressed against each other make them forget about the cool September air.

“I’m sorry, Cas”, Dean whispers into Cas’s hair.

“It’s okay”, Cas replies, “I heard everything”.

That’s all Dean needs to hear; the long-awaited, painful silence of unspoken desires had led up to this moment.

Chapter Text

Cas can’t believe it.

Dean is in his arms, clinging on with everything he has.

The Angel had prayed for this day to come - to embrace the one he loves with no hesitancy, no fear that the latter would back away.

“You had me worried”, Dean breathes into Cas’s shoulder, the warmth tickling his skin in the cold outdoor air. “I thought I fucked up for good”. Cas huffs, the rise of his chest pressing against Dean’s.

“That’s impossible”, the Angel replies, “You know I’ll always come back”. Dean squeezes Cas, “You don’t know how comforting it is to hear that”, he chuckles. They part, meeting each other’s gaze as they relish in the newfound feeling of reciprocity.

Cas notices Dean’s eyes travelling down to his lips again, and is reminded of the visions from searching Dean’s mind; he feels his cheeks turn hot. Dean’s lips are inviting, tinted pink and plump. Their faces are but inches away from one another as their breaths intertwine.

Without needing to say anything, they understand the other’s thoughts.

After what feels like an eternity of existing in each other’s gaze, the distance between them closes in as their lips connect. Dean presses his lips to Cas’s ever-so gently; the Angel suspects he’s still holding back. Cas melts into the kiss; this is a feeling he had never experienced quite like before.

Of course, he’s kissed Meg, and he’s kissed April, but this is different. Dean’s lips are so soft, so tender in their movements, it drives Cas insane. The decade-long wait had all been worth it, he thinks.

Hungry for more contact, Cas cups Dean’s jaw in his hands, his stubble tickling the Angel’s palms as he draws him in closer. The kiss deepens, and Dean appears to understand his needs. Cas feels a set of hands travel up the curve of his spine, one resting on his waist and the other combing his hair, pulling him in further.

The kiss quickens with each second, the two hungry for more.

Cas pulls back momentarily to catch his breath; he sees what can only be described as pure desire on the hunter’s face, his eyes glazed, his reddened lips parted. Cas thinks he might explode; it’s times like these he’s grateful for his depleting grace, because it only amplifies the sensations that flood his body right now.

“Cas”, Dean’s voice comes out as a whimper, pleading for more.

Cas pushes the hunter back against a nearby tree, forceful but nothing Dean can’t manage. He joins him at the lips again – this time, hungrier. His tongue brushes Dean’s lips, asking for permission, and Dean gladly welcomes him. Dean tastes just like Cas had imagined: sweet, with pangs of bitterness – most likely the coffee that lingers on his tongue.

The chirping of birdsong fails to drown out the noises of the hunter and Angel; Dean hums into Cas’s mouth, igniting a flame within him. His hands travel from Dean’s jaw down to his neck, and finally to his waist. Dean lets out a strained noise as Cas’s hands find themselves underneath the flannel shirt, rising up along the toned abs.

Dean gently pushes the Angel off him for a second, giving him a suspicious look. “Where’d you learn this?”, he asks sceptically, earning a smirk from the Angel. “I’ve done research”, he replies vaguely, enjoying the way Dean’s mind appears to whirr.

“You were… predicting this?”, the hunter raises his eyebrow, still managing on catching his breath. “Always better to be prepared, just in case”, Cas squints, his hands travelling further up Dean’s torso, deriving another sweet sound from him. He cherishes the small sounds Dean makes; if it was up to Cas, he’d listen to them forever.

“Hey, Cas”, Dean breathes out, twitching underneath Cas’s touch, “As much as I’m enjoying this, don’t you think we should take it somewhere more… private?”, he suggests, darting his gaze around the sparce woods. Cas enjoys this version of Dean more than he thought he would; the one with all of his walls let down, vulnerable and submissive.

Cas needs more of this Dean.

“Good idea”

-

Dean was thankful that Sam and Jack were nowhere to be seen when they returned to the bunker; he assumes they went out to find information on the rift.

I’ll join them later, Dean thinks.

For now, he’s occupied with satiating a hungry Angel, now looming over him atop his bed. The look in Cas’s eyes tells Dean he’s in for the time of his life.

“Dean”, Cas’s voice is eager and pleading, a sound Dean had regretted never hearing until now. “Slow down there, tiger”, Dean chuckles, propping himself up along with the Angel. Cas, now straddled across Dean’s lap, studies his face – a stare so intense it transports Dean back to the early days when he and Cas had newly met.

Whether it was a force of habit or Cas being Cas, he had still neglected to take his huge trench coat off; Dean decides to do him a favour. He grips the collar of the coat, drawing Cas in for another kiss as he slides it off his shoulders; it falls to the floor with a thud.

Pulling away, Dean takes in the sight of Cas in a suit and tie; his figure appears smaller, but more toned. He looks more human this way - who knew one trench coat could make all the difference.

Dean had already removed his own coat somewhere along the way to the bed, he doesn’t quite remember in his eagerness. Desperate to unravel the Angel even more, he gives the same courtesy to Cas’s blazer, letting it fall as he slides it off his arms.

Cas must be impatient as he wriggles in Dean’s lap, the friction nearly sending the hunter over the edge. It reminds Dean that this is real – Cas is real, embracing him in his tender gaze as they sit in his very bedroom. They have each other all to themselves – no distractions, no disasters, no Sam interrupting them.

“God, you have no idea what this is doing to me, Cas”, Dean breathes out, his hands locked on each side of the Angel’s waist. “Then show me”, Cas growls, and Dean thinks he might just combust. In any other situation, Cas is reserved, sensible at times albeit ready to throw himself in the crossfires at any given moment – Dean can’t judge. But this version of him is one that Dean had yet to encounter, and he regrets having never done so until now.

The thought of unwinding one of Heaven’s once strongest warriors, to hear him cry out his name as he’s inside him, fills Dean with a newfound excitement and sense of pride. He’s ready to show Cas what he’s capable of-

“Woah!”, Dean suddenly yelps as he feels the weight of the skies push him to the bed. Cas looms over him with a bottomless appetite in his eyes; Dean freezes as he’s pinned in place.

This wasn’t how I was expecting things to go, Dean thinks to himself, although not displeased at all.

Granted, he and Cas hadn’t actually talked things through about how this was going to go; hell, Dean had never done it with another guy before. But based on his experiences with the countless women he’s been with in the past, he figured he’d take on the role he’s most familiar with. Having Cas completely overpower him begins to look more and more enticing, though. Dean gulps.

“Eager, are we?”, Dean smirks from under the Angel; he can’t help but notice how dangerously close Cas’s leg is to Dean’s crotch as their limbs entangle with one another. He lets out a strained breath, like there was no air in his lungs to begin with.

“Dean, I’ve been waiting for this for years”, Cas confesses as his voice begins to sound like pleas. Dean feels his face flush hot as he struggles to find an answer to that, “Wait- what- years?”, he stammers. Cas nods slowly.

“You’re saying pre-purgatory days?”, Dean asks curiously. “You want me to date the exact day and time for you?”, Cas deadpans. “No, that’s not what I mean- wait, you’re being serious?”, the hunter asks, his heart racing at the thought of Cas having needed him all this time. The Angel chuckles, lowering his head to graze Dean’s neck with his lips.

“Fuck, Cas”, Dean breathes out.

“I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember”, Cas hums, trailing down the hunter’s throat to his collar. Hearing those words uttered by the Angel nearly drives Dean to tears, weirdly enough. All the time he’s spent feeling worthless and a curse to everyone he cares about, there’s been one person that hasn’t stopped loving him.

Without realising it, Dean’s collar to his flannel shirt has been completely undone; he feels the cool touch of air brush his collarbones. Cas peppers the defined structures with kisses, earning hitched breaths from the hunter beneath him. Since when did he learn to do all this?

One by one, each of the flannel’s buttons come undone with Cas’s touch, until Dean’s torso is completely exposed; his chest rises and falls erratically with excitement. He can feel Cas’s eyes all over his chest and stomach, a deep yearning following along with them.

“Cas, you’re staring”, Dean says, averting his gaze; never did he imagine feeling so shy before another person - another man, at that. The Angel smiles with fondness, “I can’t help it, you’re so beautiful”, he beams.

“Hey, enough of that”, Dean grumbles; handling compliments was never his forte, especially not ones like “beautiful”.

If this had been Dean 10 years ago, he’d have taken it as an insult, a reflection of his once narrow-minded perceptions of masculinity passed down from his father. But now, he can’t deny how warm it makes him inside. Whether he’ll admit that out loud or not though, is another matter.

Cas chuckles softly at Dean’s abashed reaction. He then makes himself comfortable atop Dean’s waist, straddling either side as their jeans rub against each other. Dean’s view of Cas is astounding; his hands slink up to the Angel’s waist to steady him.

“Cas”, Dean pleads out like a prayer, “As much as I enjoy what’s going on right now, I’m getting impatient”, he admits with a slanted smile. He needs Cas, he needs his hands, his warmth. Cas seems to understand the request as he lowers himself once again, joining his lips with the hunter’s.

Dean feels Cas’s hands explore his body, travelling from one crevice of his torso to another, until landing at his nipples. He involuntarily flinches at the stimulation, tightening his grip on the Angel’s waist. Cas works his fingers, circling the now protruding nubs with rhythm; Dean makes a strained noise into the Angel’s mouth.

The sounds of their tongues dancing with one another fills the room; it’s a sound that riles Dean up more than he would like to admit.

Cas pulls away from the kiss as Dean stares in disappointed anticipation; his need for his touch undoubtedly turns him into a pathetic mess. Before he could question the Angel’s motives, Dean feels the wet warmth of Cas’s tongue around his nipple, sucking and swirling.

“Jesus”, Dean curses as one of his hands goes to grip the Angel’s hair, forcing him further down onto himself; he can’t get enough of him. Cas, being the ever-so attentive Angel that he is, doesn’t neglect the other side as his fingers pinch and fondle the other nipple. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think Cas had done this before… has he?

Feeling like he’s near to reaching his limit, Dean’s other hand moves from Cas’s waist to his back; “Cas- hey, take your shirt off”, Dean says in between irregular breaths, “Please”. Cas pulls away, adhering to Dean’s requests without complaint.

The Angel swiftly unfastens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, throwing them to the side; Dean had thought about doing it for him, but in the state that he is right now, he fears it’d take him hours to do so. He stares at the Angel’s body in all its glory, toned and tanned.

“God, you’re hot”, Dean says without realising, earning a bashful smile from the Angel. “Speak for yourself”, he replies. They grin as their eyes refuse to look anywhere else that isn’t each other’s. Cas’s eyes glint blue with lust and his hair sticks out in every direction possible.

Dean takes this opportunity to remove the rest of the flannel that had been draped along his shoulders, flinging it to the side.

The two relish in each other’s presence, Cas’s hands gripping Dean’s waist and Dean’s gripping his, both in disbelief that this is real. Without guidance, Cas goes to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his jeans; Dean stares on in bated breath.

After a minute of them hastily removing their jeans, they finally arrive at each other’s boxers. Dean feels more exposed than ever, but the feeling only drives his desire more; seeing Cas like this is something Dean had only dreamt of before. Believe in your dreams, he thinks.

The lack of clothing means closer contact between the two, as Cas seats himself on top of Dean again; he feels their bulges press against one another, driving him crazy. “I don’t think I can last much longer, Cas”, Dean breathes, noticing how the Angel seems to mirror the sentiment

“Me too”, Cas replies, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Dean’s boxers.

This is it, the hunter thinks.

Chapter Text

Cas works his hands underneath the waistband, pulling it down with rigour.

Dean’s shaky hands still reside on the Angel’s waist, feeling like a crutch to ground himself. The Angel halts as he sees Dean’s dick in all its glory, firm and standing to attention.

“What, never seen another dick before?”, Dean says, although Cas can tell he’s nervous by the shake in his voice. “No”, he replies earnestly. This is his first time with a man, and he’s hoping it’s Dean’s first time too.

Seeing Dean like this, in such a compromising position, shoots electricity into Cas’s senses; he feels his dick writhe with desire. Without hesitation, he grasps Dean’s length into his hand, hearing the sweet whimpers from the hunter beneath him.

Slowly, he pumps Dean’s dick, the sensation new but exciting to him. Hearing Dean’s noises flow out of him only powers the Angel more. Cas leans down once again, taking Dean’s lips in to his as he carries on.

He feels his bulge pulsate against Dean’s length, crying out for more. “Cas”, he hears his name uttered so longingly again against his lips, “Don’t do all the work, let me do something”, Dean whispers. Cas had been so caught up in pleasing Dean that he had neglected his own needs – his needs that were becoming more prominent by the second.

“Okay”, he replies breathily, rising. Dean, without hesitation, fumbles for Cas’s waistband, pulling it down clumsily until his length was in clear view too. “Fuck, Cas, you were hiding that all this time?”, Dean says, his eyes widening with intimidated excitement. Cas doesn’t know how to respond other than averting his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed.

“Get off me a sec’, I’ll return the favour”, Dean proposes. “But, what about you?”, Cas protests, earning a glare from the hunter. “This is about you, too, dumbass”, the hunter replies, and Cas can’t refute that.

He removes himself from Dean’s lap, making sure to rid himself of the boxers dangling off his legs while he’s at it. Dean does the same before being the one to push Cas down onto the bed now. The Angel’s head hits the pillow with a soft thud as Dean positions himself between Cas’s legs.

“Bet you’ve never had a blowjob before, huh”, Dean smirks and Cas doesn’t think his dick can get any harder now. “You don’t know that”, Cas protests, although Dean is right. “You can’t fool me”, the hunter says smugly, before settling his hands on each of Cas’s thighs to support himself.

Before Cas can even utter a response, he feels the warmth of Dean’s mouth around his tip – a sensation like no other. Cas arches his back in a need for more, for Dean to envelope him completely. “Dean”, he croaks out, finding the hunter’s head to grip his hair.

Dean begins to move, like he had practiced this before, taking in Cas with full intention right down to the base. Once he had all of Cas in his mouth, he begins to move back and forth; Cas doesn’t feel like he could take this longer than a few minutes before reaching his limit.

Dean moves swiftly and coordinated, picking up the pace as Cas’s hands cradle the back of the hunter’s head. “D-Dean”, Cas moans out, only causing the man in question to quicken his rhythm. With each time Dean lowers himself around Cas, the Angel feels himself teeter closer to the edge.

If this is how Dean’s mouth feels, Cas can only imagine how heavenly he’d feel from the inside – to become one with him in an act of pure desire.

Cas’s willpower to keep the already thinning rope of restraint intact is beginning to waver. He glances down through his hazy vision to take in the alluring sight of Dean wrapped around him, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. The rope finally snaps.

“I’m gonna-“, Cas whimpers out belatedly before climaxing. His whole body convulses and spasms with ecstasy; with Dean’s mouth still wrapped firmly around his length, he welcomes the warmth that the Angel releases, swallowing before pulling away. The two catch their breaths for a moment, meeting each other’s gazes through glazed eyes.

Dean wipes his lips with the back of his hand, looking pleased with himself. “Dean, you-“, Cas breathes out, unable to finish his sentence as he still struggles to come down from his high. “You taste so goddamn sweet”, the hunter says, gripping the Angel’s thighs, “That the Angel juice, or something?”, he smirks. Cas blushes furiously.

“Come here”, Cas pleads, trying to grasp Dean’s torso to pull him closer. Dean complies, crawling atop the Angel’s thighs. Cas takes Dean’s length in his hand along with his; the friction of their dicks brushing against each other earns a stifled moan from the two of them.

“I want you to feel good too”, Cas whispers as he notices how soft Dean’s eyes turn. With the hunter’s hand steadied beside Cas’s head on the bedsheets, Dean bucks himself into Cas, inviting his touch.

Cas uses the fluids from the both of them to aid in pumping their lengths, squeezing ever so slightly every time Dean would flinch under his touch. He maintains eye contact with the hunter, relishing in how full of desire he looks - his glazed eyes, his flushed cheeks, his lips that quiver with titillation.

Cas’s free hand takes the initiative, snaking around the nape of Dean’s neck to pull him in to yet another kiss – the Angel can’t get enough of the taste. Their kiss is sloppy and clumsy, their teeth crashing against each other every so often as Cas continues working his hand.

If it wasn’t for the overwhelming sensation filling his every receptor, Cas wouldn’t have guessed he would get this hard again immediately after climax. Dean bucks his waist into Cas’s as he seems to be reaching his limit, too.

“Cas, I’m- I’m gonna-“, Dean whimpers out through kisses as Cas’s hand travels from his neck to the curve of his spine, pulling him even further into his touch. Cas feels the jolt of electricity course through Dean’s body as he convulses, nuzzling his head into the nook of the Angel’s shoulder.

“Ngh, Castiel”, Dean cries out. The sound of Cas’s full name being said with such desire officially pushes him over the cliff, forcing his hand to pump at full speed. God, if there’s a moment where he’s glad to be human and to feel human sensations, it’d be now.  

The two embrace each other as they break the seal together, the flow of ecstasy filling every one of Cas’s senses; he feels like he might black out. Their fluids mix as they release onto Cas’s stomach, warm and wet.

What follows afterwards is nearly a full minute of silence, only their irregular breaths filling the room as Dean had collapsed onto Cas. The weight of him feels comforting to the Angel – grounding, almost; like all of this wasn’t just a hopeful dream.

Cas’s arms reach up and around Dean’s waist, clutching onto his warmth for as long as possible. He feels Dean reciprocate the gesture, hooking his arms around Cas’s shoulders; it feels like they’ve become one.

“That was… something”, Dean finally manages to breathe out, chuckling softly against Cas’s shoulder. “Mmh”, Cas replies fondly, still processing the fact that Dean is here with him right now in his arms.

The fact they hadn’t ‘gone all the way’ didn’t matter to Cas; he’s grateful he could make Dean feel good – that is all he could ask for.

“I love you, Dean”, the Angel whispers, angling his head to Dean’s ear. He feels the hunter shiver at the sensation, still hiding his face from him; Cas smiles in endearment at his uncharacteristic shyness – he could get used to this.

“Me too, Cas”

They remain there, taking pleasure in having the other so close, the feeling of each other’s skin against their own.

The rise and fall of Cas’s chest synchronise with Dean’s. The Angel begins to stroke circles into the hunter’s back, earning content hums from the latter; if only he could be frozen in time alone with Dean.

“Can I tell you something”, Cas says all of a sudden, causing Dean to rise, propping himself on his elbows either side of the Angel’s head. “Don’t tell me you wanna go another round”, Dean frowns half-heartedly, “I’m already pooped from all the worrying you had me do today”.

Cas laughs, taking Dean’s face in his hands. “No, that can be saved for another time”, he says as his thumb brushes Dean’s stubble, noticing the devious glint his eye at that proposal.

“When I asked you to sing for me”, he begins, “It wasn’t a random thought that had occurred to me”. Dean peers down in suspicion, “Is that so?”, he says. Cas coughs awkwardly, wondering whether to reveal this information or not.

Watching Dean’s anticipated expression, his eyes darting from one eye to the other, Cas knows he can’t hide it.

“The night I passed out after we fought Jasmine… I dreamt”, the Angel says.

“You dream?”, Dean asks curiously.

“It was the first time I had done so”, Cas replies, “And in my dream, I saw you”.

Dean’s mouth parts slightly as if to speak but closes soon after.

“You were singing… it felt very comforting”, he admits, “It felt like we were the only people on Earth”, his face softens. If only that were real.

“Cas”, Dean says, his voice low and gentle. He reaches down to press another kiss to Cas’s lips, this time, much slower and longing than their frenzied ones from earlier. Cas feels safe in Dean’s touch, like all his worries and hardships were but a nightmare.

The hunter pulls away, “Wait, I need to know something else”, he says. “Ask away”, Cas replies.

“Did you see something you weren’t supposed to see that day you searched my memories?”, he asks, sounding almost convinced that he’s correct, “You were acting like you got caught with your pants down the whole day”. Cas averts his gaze momentarily, realising that his act wasn’t as fool-proof as he thought.

“Yes…”, he says hesitantly; Dean eyes him, waiting for an explanation. “It wasn’t a memory, as such”, Cas continues, “It was sort of hazy, but all I can say is I saw myself and your hands… and well, you can guess where that goes”. Being put under the spotlight like this brings the Angel back to the nervous disposition he had the day he uncovered Dean’s fantasies.

Dean’s mouth falls open in part shock, part embarrassment. “You’re saying you had first class seats to one of my wet dreams”, the hunter says bluntly. That’s one way to put it, the Angel thinks; he nods slowly, watching the array of emotions flicker through Dean’s face.

“Shit”, Dean hangs his head low, “No wonder you couldn’t look me in the eye”, he says. For some reason, Cas feels guilty; he hadn’t realised that Dean was so attentive to this. “That’s what made me start to think”, Cas begins; Dean angles his head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Maybe my feelings weren’t so one-sided, after all”, he says.

“Yeah, and then I had to go and crush your hopes one last time”, Dean grunts, still as self-critical as ever.

“Dean, none of that matters now”, the Angel reassures him, “I have you now, that’s all that matters to me”. Dean looks down tenderly, an expression Cas doesn’t get to see very often what with the life they lead. He cherishes it.

“I won’t let you go again, don’t worry”.

Chapter Text

“Where were you guys?”

Sam’s voice suddenly pierces through Dean and Cas sitting at the library table.

“Oh, hey Sammy, long time no see”, Dean waves as nonchalantly as possible. It had only been around twenty minutes since him and Cas had finished ‘cleaning up’.

“Don’t give me that”, Sam retorts suspiciously, “Jack and I went out to do some research and not once did either of you call us”.

“Are you my mother now?”, Dean snaps, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from their use of time. Sam squints as if he can tell something’s up. “Well, whatever, glad to see Cas returned”, he says, angling towards the Angel that is sitting too close for comfort to Dean.

“Yes, sorry. Dean and I were… sorting some things out”, Cas coughs. Dean wishes to crawl into a hole at this instant.

“Riighhtt”, Sam says, seemingly ready to change topic too.

“So, did you find anything?”, Dean says not-so casually.

“Nada”, Sam replies expectantly. A measly book wouldn’t have the answers to one of life’s biggest questions, after all. “We did, however”, he continues, “find a run-of-the-mill salt and burn if you guys wanna let off some steam”. Dean raises an eyebrow at the layered comment.

“Sure. You in, too, Cas?”, Dean turns to the Angel who swiftly averts his gaze like he’d been caught staring.

“Of course”

-

“You’ve become a true Winchester now”, Dean pats Jack’s shoulder who sits at the kitchen table, digging into the rotisserie chicken Sam had prepared for dinner.

“Reawy?”, Jack says with a mouthful of chicken.

“That, and the way you’re eating”, Sam snorts, pointing between him and Dean. Dean gives him a sharp look, “What’s that supposed to mean?”, he snaps as Sam looks away innocently.

Here they are, the four hunters having dinner together after a job well done. Times like this remind Dean of his childhood, sitting gleefully at the family table with his parents and baby Sammy, some of the only few pleasant memories he has of back then.

He’s grateful he’s able to relive those memories now, with his new family.

“Dean, you want some of my garlic bread?”, Cas says, holding his offering out from across the table. “No, Cas, you have it”, Dean replies. This is the third time today that he has given something to Dean; whether it’s a shiny-looking rock or a slice of pie he’d somehow had the time to buy during their hunt. He reminds Dean of a cat bringing home a gift to its owner.

“You sure?”, the Angel insists. Dean chuckles, “I’m sure”. Sam glances between the two of them, a knowing look on his face.

“So, what’d you two get up to this morning while Jack and I were out?”, he asks once again. Dean had hoped his dropping of the subject earlier would be the end of it. This is Sam, though, after all.

“Stuff”, Dean replies vaguely, occupying himself with stuffing his face.

“Stuff?”, Sam presses, clearly trying to pry something – anything out of his brother.

“Hunter stuff”, Dean reiterates, again, vaguely.

“We were researching”, Cas blurts out. Sam hums, “So, did you find anything?”

Cas’s eyes dart haphazardly, “Not anything of importance”, he coughs. Dean internally facepalms; the Angel had never been great at lying. He looks to Sam, who seems to be enjoying himself; Dean can’t wait to wipe that smug look off his face sometime.

“We’re not any closer to opening the rift, though”, Jack chimes in, disheartened. All this time, he’s felt responsible for what happened to Mary and to Cas; the weight of that can’t be pleasant, especially for a guy who’s technically no older than a few weeks.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way”, Sam reassures, with a nod from Cas; “These two always manage to”, the Angel says, and Jack seems to relax slightly. “We stopped a damn apocalypse, we can find a measly rift, no big deal”, Dean shrugs, aware of how massive of a statement he’s making.

“He’s right”, Cas beams, “If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s us. We’re a team now”. Jack smiles back confidently, “Team free will 2.0”, he cheers. Dean huffs at the fact he remembers that.

“Team free will 2.0. It’s got a ring to it”

-

Dean slips into his pyjamas – being that of some sweatpants now that it’s getting colder, and a soft tee. He stops by his bed, the memories of this morning still fresh in his mind; the way Cas felt against his lips, the way he’d say his name like a prayer. He misses the contact already.

Bastard’s got me hooked, Dean sighs to himself.

Just as he begins to consider knocking on Cas’s door, he startles with the exact sound coming from his own. The clock reads 12AM; Sam’s been asleep for at least the past hour, and Jack’s most likely off practicing foosball or doing his own research. Dean’s pulse quickens the closer he gets to the door.

With a creak of the door, Dean opens it to reveal what he’d been hoping. Cas stands there, in similar attire to Dean – sweatpants and a tee that’s just tight enough to define his biceps. The hunter licks his lips.

“Cas, hey”, Dean tries to be as nonchalant as possible, resting his arm against the doorframe, which ends up feeling extremely out of place. “Hello, Dean”, Cas greets him, seemingly not knowing how to continue the conversation.

“You come here for a goodnight kiss?”, Dean half-jokes, grinning. Cas looks like he’s been caught; “Sort of”, he replies to Dean’s pleasant surprise. “I was wondering if I could sleep with you”, he continues. Dean’s brain short-circuits for a second.

“Coming on pretty strong, huh”, the hunter smirks after regaining composure; his eyes lock onto the Angel’s as they widen with realisation. “Oh- I mean, w-well, if you want to- but-”, Cas stammers while Dean watches on in amusement. Maybe it’s time he puts the poor guy out of his misery.

“I know what you mean, Porky”, Dean chuckles, earning a confused look from the other. “Porky?”, the Angel repeats. “Wow, I’ve gotta show you Looney Tunes sometime”, Dean claps Cas’s shoulder with his hand, inviting him into his room. Cas nods, still perplexed, as Dean closes the door behind them.

Suddenly, the reality of them being alone again in Dean’s room hits the hunter like a bag of bricks. He can’t seem to calm down around the Angel.

“Which side d’you want?”, he asks Cas, trying to fill the silence and settle his nerves. “I don’t mind, as long as I’m next to you”, the Angel replies so matter of fact. Dean will have to get used to this; “Cas, you can’t just go around saying shit like that”, Dean sighs, “It’s not good for my heart”. Cas smiles in amusement, making his way to one side of the bed and slipping beneath the covers.

Dean follows, finding himself comfortable on the other side. He hadn’t shared a bed with another person since Lisa; he’s missed this feeling. “I’m turning off the lamp”, Dean says as Cas nods. He hopes the lack of light will calm himself.

The distance between them feels awkward, like they’re both too shy to suggest cuddling; what are we, children? Dean thinks to himself.

Just as he’s debating what to say to Cas, he feels the sudden sensation of an arm slink around his waist, pulling him in. “Woah-“, he begins as he feels the soft breathing tickle his nose. Cas stares right back at him; Dean can just about make out his features through the faint light seeping in through the closed door to the hallway.

“Hey there”, Dean breathes out, wrapping his leg around Cas’s, entwining their limbs. “Dean”, Cas whispers, sending a shiver down the hunter’s spine, “Can I kiss you?”, he asks ever so tenderly. Dean thinks he might just break.

“Of course, don’t gotta ask twice”, Dean grins as he closes the gap between them. The kiss is soft, slow – a type of kiss that has no expectations, no follow-ups, just done purely for the sake of it. Cas’s lips are warm and comforting; their stubbles brush against each other with each movement.

Dean’s arm repays the sentiment, circling around the back of the Angel, closing the distance even more. After indulging in each other’s touch for a few more moments, they pull away, both satisfied and content.

“Now, I could get used to this”, Dean smiles, his head nestling in the nook of Cas’s neck. “So could I”, Cas replies softly, returning the favour and rests his cheek atop dean’s head.

Thump, thump, thump.

Dean feels the low rhythm of Cas’s heartbeat as he leans further into his chest. It’s a lullaby like no other – one that sends him off into sleep in minutes.

Chapter Text

Dean cracks open his eyes to the dawn light enveloping the room – that is, the automatic artificial light that Sam had set up to mimic morning.

Dean assumes his brother had enough of him sleeping ‘til noon every day; after all, when the room is pitch black, it’s difficult to surmise whether it’s early in the morning or 5 in the afternoon.

He stretches lazily, noticing how his and Cas’s positions had changed during the night; he had found himself on his back as per usual, with Cas clinging onto his side like a koala. He smiles with a humph, using his free hand that isn’t pinned down by the Angel to comb through his dark hair.

“Morning, sunshine”, he says, noticing that Cas has, too, woken up. “Good morning”, Cas says, eyes still half-lidded as he angles his head up to meet Dean. The hunter, taking in the sight of a drowsy Angel – his hair ruffled with sleep and lips plump with puffiness – raises his head to meet him at the lips again.

Dean can’t get enough of him.

Cas is clumsy in his kiss, but it seems to wake him up slightly as he leans deeper into Dean. “Mmh”, he hums out, content, and Dean starts to feel the familiar tightness around his crotch again.

As if his thoughts were manifesting in real time, he feels the shock of electricity through his sweatpants as Cas’s hand snakes down and over the waistband. He arrives at his target, cupping and fondling Dean’s dick through the fabric.

“Cas- wait- what are you doing?”, Dean manages to pry the Angel away from his lips to meet the same blue eyes – this time, awake and full of intent.

“I want you to feel good”, Cas admits, and Dean thinks he might explode there and then.

“You’re not gonna let me rest from now on, are you?”, Dean smirks; the idea of being woken up like this certainly isn’t unwelcome. “No”, Cas says, his voice low and gruffly – it does something to Dean that drives him crazy.

Before the hunter could say another word, Cas goes to trailing kisses down Dean’s jaw and neck, taking his time in tasting every inch. “Hey, no marks”, Dean warns the Angel; the last thing he needs is Sam questioning why his neck looks like it’s been attacked.

“Don’t worry”, Cas hums as he squeezes his hand once again, earning a grunt from Dean, “I’ll make sure they won’t be seen”.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean-“, Dean’s voice is swiftly cut off by the cool air caressing his stomach as Cas moves lower down. He kisses and sucks at Dean’s v-line, making sure his mark is left somewhere. Dean had never guessed Cas to be this possessive; it riles him up more than ever.

Before the hunter knows it, his sweatpants are pulled halfway off, revealing his already-hard dick, eager and impatient. Cas stares on in hunger, ensuring he maintains eye contact as he lowers himself down onto Dean.

“Shit, Cas”, Dean strains out, reaching for his dark ruffled hair. Cas is warm – so warm, and the contrast with the bunker’s cold air sends him into overdrive.

Without warning, the Angel begins to move, bobbing his head up and down while still somehow refusing to look away from Dean’s eyes. If Dean had the power to see into the future, he’d have confessed to Cas long ago; who knew this was what he had been missing out on.

Cas begins quickening the pace, sucking harder and hungrier. Dean feels as if he might pass out, his vision going blurred.

“Mmf”, Dean covers his mouth with his other hand, unsure of just how thin these bunker walls are. As Cas gets a rhythm going, Dean doesn’t think he can last much longer. His grip on the Angel’s hair tightens as his legs tense.

“Cas, I’m gonna-“, he can’t quite finish his sentence before the water overflows the cup; Dean arches his back up to Cas as he climaxes. He feels the Angel take him in entirely, insistent at getting every last drop.

The comedown from the high leaves Dean a mess, panting and lips parted. His eyes gaze down at Cas, now wiping his mouth; he thinks he can see a smug smile form on the Angel’s lips, looking proud of himself.

“Y’know, I’m starting to think you’ve done this before”, Dean says between breaths. Cas looks to him innocently, “You believe I would do this with someone else besides you?”, he asks as if offended that Dean would even suspect the possibility. Dean shrugs, “So this is all from your research, is that right?”, he eyes him suspiciously.

Cas half nods, sitting upright in between Dean’s legs. “That, and I’ve imagined such things with you for a while”, he admits so matter of fact. Dean’s mouth falls open, unsure of how to respond.

“So, wait- what else have you imagined?”, Dean asks, his curiosity and excitement peaking.

“Well, everything”, Cas says vaguely, and Dean can only guess. “You mean, everything?”, he wants to clarify, earning a nod from the Angel. “Don’t make me spell it out for you”, Cas pouts, seemingly more and more embarrassed with every question. Dean chuckles.

“Well, why don’t you give me some examples”, he proposes, his voice smooth and silky. Cas blinks in confusion for a moment before the wires connect in his brain; “You mean-“, he can’t quite finish the sentence, but Dean knows.

As if expecting – or more, hoping – this would happen, Dean reaches to his desk drawer beside the bed, fumbling for something to ease the process. He pulls out a bottle of lube as well as a condom packet, meeting Cas’s eyes as he presents them before him.

“When did you get those?”, Cas raises an eyebrow. “What, you think you were the only one to buy souvenirs yesterday?”, Dean smirks. Cas gulps, eyeing the bottle like he’s imagining all the possible ways he could use it on Dean already.

“So, what do you say? Share with the class”, Dean grins devilishly.

-

“Cas”, Dean’s breaths are erratic and desperate.

“What do you need, Dean? Tell me”, Cas hums, continuing to work his third finger into Dean. At this point, both of them have gathered who’s doing what; Dean was more than happy letting Cas take the reins, and so was he.

“I… I need you”, Dean pleads, his eyes full of want. Cas doesn’t think he can last much longer, either.

He had been loosening Dean up for the past however-many minutes – time seems to stop when they’re together like this. The last thing he wants is to hurt the hunter, but it appears that Dean is nearing the edge of his limit.

“You need me where?”, Cas asks, feigning ignorance. He needs to hear Dean say it from his own lips.

Cas’s free arm had wrapped underneath Dean’s thigh, their sweatpants and shirts finding themselves at the other side of the room after some point. He studies the hunter’s face, the myriad of expressions that he’s wearing changing with each second.

“God… I need you, inside me”, Dean finally manages to whine out, and Cas takes no time fulfilling his wishes.

He swiftly, but gently removes his fingers; Dean whimpers at the emptiness. After having positioned himself between Dean’s thighs, he uses them as a crutch, squeezing the firm muscle as he angles Dean’s ass up to him. It takes him a minute to figure out how to put the condom on; Dean assists and the touch of his hand to the Angel’s dick causes it to twitch with excitement.

“I’m about to be inside you now”, Cas announces. “Geez, give me a step-by-step guide, why don’t you”, Dean hisses, the desperation in his voice more apparent than ever. “Just fuck me already, Angel”, he breathes out, and something inside Cas snaps.

Without another second to waste, Cas pushes himself into Dean, steadily and slowly, relishing in the sounds coming from the hunter as he does so. “Dean, you’re so tight”, Cas winces, feeling the suffocating warmth wrap itself around his dick.

After managing to push his full length in, the Angel stops to give them both a breather. “Are you okay?”, he asks Dean, who’s now gripping the sheets either side of him. “Peachy”, Dean replies with a huff, his breathing beginning to steady as the hard part is over with.

Being one with Dean is something Cas had only dreamt of, to have the hunter at his mercy like this, sprawled out and aching with pleasure; Cas can’t take his eyes off him.

“You can move”, Dean says more steadily now. Cas uses Dean’s thighs to pull away from him, the friction about to send him to Heaven already. His movements are slow at first, taking in each and every sensation of Dean around him; the tightness isn’t as unbearable now, rather it feels like a warm hug.

With every slide, Cas feels the jolts of pleasure course through his body; his time with April comes nowhere near to this. Dean’s muffled moans fill the room, seemingly set on being as secretive as possible. But Cas digresses, “Dean”, he growls, lowering down to the hunter’s face, still pumping at a steady pace.

“I want to hear you”, the Angel whispers; Dean’s glistening green eyes squint back at him, “What, and have the rest of the bunker hear, too?”, he says through grunts. Cas takes Dean’s lips into his, their tongues crashing against each other hungrily.

The combined stimulation seems to be pushing the both of them to their limits as they moan into one another’s mouth. Cas pulls away momentarily, hoping Dean is thinking the same as him.

“Harder”, Dean pleads, and Cas complies without hesitation.

The wet noises of their bodies colliding with each other echoes throughout the room, along with the prayers of Cas’s name through Dean’s lips. “Cas”, the hunter whimpers; the Angel thrusts deeper, desperate to fill him as much as he can. ravenous and forceful. His hands dig into either side of Dean’s waist, aiding in allowing him to reach as deep as possible.

“Dean”, Cas groans, “Say my name”.

Dean, in his feverish ecstasy, obeys; “Castiel”, he sobs, “Castiel”, he chants the name like a prayer. Each time the name leaves his lips, his voice grows more strained, and Cas knows it’s only a matter of time before he gives in.

“You feel so good”, Cas pants, before thrusting into Dean with full force, his movements erratic. “Ngh”, Dean seemingly uses every ounce of willpower he has to stifle his noises, although Cas is making it particularly difficult.

The overhead lights flicker frantically as sparks fly from the bulbs; Cas, whether intentionally or not, uses what remains of his grace to heighten both his and Dean’s senses. The electricity courses through Cas and into Dean from within; the hunter cries out as if electrocuted with intense pleasure. Cas can feel his eyes burn with grace, the bright blue tendrils tickling his retinas.

Neither of them last much longer as Cas thrusts into Dean one last time. Their moans fill the room, uncaring of whether they’ll be heard at this point. The hunter’s climax only tightens the grip around Cas’s dick, sending him over the edge, too.

Dean’s fluids spurt out, landing atop his stomach as he grips the sheets; his tear-filled eyes blink at the Angel, looking like he’s still trying to grasp where he is. Cas slowly pulls out, grimacing at the suffocating sensation of Dean’s hole refusing to let him go.

“Fuck”, Cas breathes out as he finally parts from the hunter, letting his weight fall onto Dean’s chest. They lay there, struggling to regain composure after that. Cas’s depleting grace comes with its more niche setbacks - that being his lack of stamina for activities like this. If it was up to him, he’d go another few rounds, at least.

As he lay atop Dean, he notices the pressing feeling against his stomach, failing to process what it is for a second. “Dean-“, Cas says exasperatedly, hearing a guilty chuckle from the hunter. “What can I say? You just have this effect on me”, he says as Cas meets his grinning eyes.

“I’m not sure I have the energy for that, right now. I’m still recovering from the past few days”, Cas admits, although disappointed. “Hey, who said anything about you doing the work?”, Dean suggests, and Cas tilts his head in confusion. “You lay there looking pretty and I’ll work my magic”, the hunter grins.

“What exactly does that mean?”, the Angel squints. “I’ll show you”, Dean replies before edging Cas off him. He gestures for him to lay on his back as he gets into position. Now, Dean is the one on top, and Cas gulps with anticipation.

The hunter’s legs straddle Cas’s hips, their dicks pressing against each other. Cas’s lips part as he pants, eagerly awaiting what Dean has in store for him. “Just so you know, I’ve never done this before”, Dean begins, “So don’t blame me if I’m shit at it”. Cas, still perplexed, can only nod vacantly.

Dean rises on his knees, positioning himself on Cas’s dick; he winces, trying to guide the Angel to his entrance, and Cas now understands. “Do you need help?”, Cas asks earnestly, unsure of where to place his hands, so he resorts to caressing each of Dean’s thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

“No, I got this”, Dean’s stubbornness seeps through, adamant on proving himself to Cas. “Ah”, the hunter lets out as Cas feels the tip of his dick enveloped once again; Dean, now supporting himself with his hands on the Angel’s chest, lowers himself as slowly as possible. The feeling is different to just before; Cas feels as though he’s reached new depths once Dean finds the base.

“Ngh”, Cas grunts, his hands on Dean’s waist now. “Shit, that would’ve been way easier if you weren’t so goddamn huge”, Dean complains, but Cas fails to feel insulted. “Are you okay?”, he questions sincerely, earning a narrowed look from the hunter. “I’m a big boy, Cas. I can handle this, no sweat”, he says.

Cas half-doubts that by the shake in Dean’s voice, but he decides to stay silent.

Without a second to waste, Dean begins to move, using his hands on Cas’s pecs to help lift him, before lowering down with ease. Cas’s fingers will undoubtedly leave marks in Dean’s skin by the end of this.

Dean, although moaning with delight, seems to struggle once he’s been a few rounds with Cas’s dick; the Angel takes the initiative to help. With an arch of his spine, he angles his hips up into Dean, synchronising with the rhythm he has going on. Dean seems to welcome the idea, cursing under his breath with pleasure.

Dean continues to ride Cas, picking up the pace once they figure out the best technique. The impact of Dean colliding with Cas’s hips every time he sinks down sends the Angel into overdrive.

The hunter whimpers atop him, completely enveloping Cas. Eyes glossy, lips swollen and pink, cheeks flushed – Cas stares on in awe. “You’re so beautiful”, he whines, earning a strained moan from Dean.

How Cas wishes to frame this sight and hang it up on his wall - the day he’d made Dean his.

With them both nearing their limit, Cas uses all his force to thrust into Dean, sending them both into ecstasy. “Cas!”, Dean cries out, spasming around the Angel. He claws Cas’s chest as his head hangs low, his breath hitched. Cas had followed soon after, releasing as he clings onto the hunter’s waist.

Before Dean collapses once again, he lays another kiss on Cas; they pant into one another’s mouths, still coming down from the high. He tastes so sweet – Cas thinks it might be his new favourite flavour.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this”, Dean says, finally collapsing onto Cas. They lay there, still bound to each other as if terrified to let go, terrified to experience the utter loss of the other again.

“The feeling’s mutual”, Cas beams, his arms enveloping Dean’s broad back. The warmth emanating from their bodies begins to lull them into a semi-unconscious state; Dean’s hair tickles Cas’s cheek as he breathes softly – a sound so endearing to the Angel. Often, Cas will hear Dean’s breath as it’s ragged, quick with panic or pain.

Hearing it like this, he treasures it.

Chapter Text

Chirp, chirp.

Castiel finds himself awakening to the alarm of birdsong once again. Awake – a loose term in this realm, as he recognises where he is once again.

The blades of grass tickle his neck as he lays there, gazing up at the bright blue sky that gazes back, not a cloud in sight. The wind carries a comforting warmth along with it, caressing the Angel’s cheek like a mother would her child.

He sits up, his body feeling weightless.

The first thought that crosses his mind is that of finding the green eyes he so adores, and the sweet strum of guitar strings.

“Dean?”, he calls out, his voice travelling across the plains. Birds fly across, their wings flashing shadows upon his face as they flap beneath the glimmering sun.

It isn’t until now that he realises how lonesome this place feels by himself – peaceful, but lonesome. He walks across the green hills, past the countless trees and the wavering grass, searching for his love.

He begins to feel an uneasiness wash over him as the absence of who he’s searching for makes itself known.

Why isn’t he here anymore? Castiel wonder anxiously to himself; his pace starts to pick up.

“Dean?!”, his voice is now panicked as it is met with the whistle of the wind. He tries to calm himself, think reasonably and logically. Where was he last time?

The tree.

His eyes scour the land, but each and every tree appears just as it did before. As if they were landmarks for each time the Angel’s hope was further crushed, the trees stand tall and unmoving, mocking him.

He stands there, on his 47^th hill, panting with panic; his lungs refuse to hold any more air, seizing as his vision hazes. What once was the cloudless clear sky, becomes a vortex of miasma – grey and black smoke covers the landscape. An overwhelming sensation of doom fills his every limb, flowing through the veins that make up his body – it is inescapable.

“Where are you?”, the Angel whispers out, his eyes stinging.

“Cas?”, he thinks he hears in the distance. It’s faint.

“Cas!”, this time louder.

The heavens open up with each time he hears his name called. The familiar feeling of dissociation makes itself known as his body pulls away from this realm.

What enters his vision next is Dean, present and in the flesh, cradling his face as he stares down in worry. The Angel blinks, still wondering if he’s dreaming.

“Dean?”, he croaks out to the hunter’s apparent relief.

“Thank god”, Dean sighs, the muscles in his hands relaxing against Cas’s cheeks. “You wouldn’t wake up”, he says, his voice shaky.

“Sorry, I must’ve been dreaming”, Cas replies, resting his palm on the back of Dean’s hand. “Sounded more like a nightmare”, Dean says, “Trust me, I know what they sound like”. Cas gives him a sympathetic look.

They had been sleeping in Dean’s room for the past few nights now – it’s become an unspoken arrangement between the two – and not once has Cas dreamt, or rather, had a nightmare. He figured having Dean in his grasps now would surely prevent that possibility.

The mind can be merciless, Cas thinks.

“I’m sorry if I worried you”, he says, squeezing the hunter’s hand, “How did you know?” Dean averts his eyes momentarily, “You were- uh- you were calling out for me”, he says, “Not in the good way either”. Cas huffs at the remark, wishing it had been that instead.

“Do you remember the dream I told you about? The one where I heard you sing”, Cas begins as Dean nods, “Well, it was the same one… at least, I thought it was at first”. He recalls how suffocating the absence was, to exist in that nothingness without Dean.

In a way, it reminds him of the Empty.

“I couldn’t find you”, he says, noticing how the hunter’s eyes soften. “Cas”, Dean breathes. He lowers down to the Angel, fluttering a kiss to his lips. Cas can’t help but notice how warm Dean is, how real his lips feel against his.

“I’m here now”, Dean smiles, pulling away. Those words were so simple, yet so grounding. Cas clings onto them with all his strength.

-

“So, you gonna talk about it?”

Dean’s eyelashes flutter with the flash of car headlights passing by as the Impala speeds down the dark road. Him and Sam had just done a vamp run together; quick and easy, just another day at the office.

Sam’s behaviour had been suspicious at best for the past few days. Dean pretended not to notice, not until Sam would eventually bring it up, and so he has.

“Talk about what?”, Dean asks, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that you and Cas are glued at the hips more than usual”, his brother deadpans, earning a guarded glare.

“I don’t see any Cas glued to my hip right now”, Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean”, he replies, “Don’t think I’ve noticed how you two just so happen to arrive for breakfast at the same exact time every morning”.

Shit, Dean thinks. He had been so caught up with processing the reality that he now sleeps with Cas to consider any secrecy. His efforts would have been futile anyway; he tries to justify himself – Sam would’ve caught on either way.

“Look, it’s your personal life and I get if you don’t wanna talk about it-“, Sam begins before Dean swiftly cuts him off. “Don’t give me that crap”, Dean snaps, “I know you, and I know you’re itching to stick your little nose into my- our business”.

Sam glances at him with bated breath, his puppy-dog eyes holding a “you got me” look. Dean sighs.

“Okay, okay”, his fingers grip the steering wheel in disbelief of what he’s about to confess, “Cas and I… let’s just say we’ve gotten close – closer - since he’s come back”, he coughs awkwardly. It was never this painful to tell Sam about his flings in the past.

That’s it, though. This isn’t just a fling. This is something Dean had hoped for – aware of that fact or not – for years.

“Right”, Sam says flatly as if this was just another normal conversation. “That all you got to say?”, Dean asks suspiciously; he knows Sam’s holding back his barrage of questions.

“Dean, I’m not gonna force you to admit you’re head over heels for him or anything-“

“Hey, I never said that”, Dean snaps and Sam can only give him a knowing look.

“I’ve noticed the way you two look at each other – way before the Empty”, Sam says. Dean doesn’t reply; he can’t bring himself to refute him because he isn’t wrong.

 “All I’m saying is… I’m happy for you”, he continues.

“Oh, don’t get all sappy now”, Dean cringes.

But he’s grateful – grateful that Sam had decided to neglect asking the more… intimate details, and grateful that he accepts it so casually.

Sam chuckles.

“So, is it CasDean or Destiel?”, he mocks, and Dean gives him an icy glare.

“It’s Go screw yourself”, he replies, his lips curling slightly.

-

The sweet perfume of soup wafts by Dean as he lifts open the pan lid, revealing the bubbling sea of goodness. His stomach rumbles.

“Not bad, if I do say so myself”, he grins proudly.

“Can you take the bread out of the oven, Cas? It should be done by now”, he gestures to the Angel, seemingly admiring him from the kitchen dining table. Dean had lent him some of his flannel shirts; they fit Cas better than Dean could have ever imagined.

“Of course”, Cas says, remembering to grab the oven gloves as he gets up.

Sam and Jack oversaw the salad – a Caesar salad at Dean’s behest, because what’s a salad without any meat?

The four of them finish their jobs, laying the table like Dean remembers having as a child. They had all agreed to make this a regular thing, eating at the dinner table like a normal family would, because if it’s anything they need, it’s some kind of normalcy.

“Bon appetit”, Dean says, placing the last bowl of beef stew down. He had never been a soup kind of guy; the only soup he’d ever eat was his mothers, but this whole domestic shtick he’s had going on with Cas and the others has given him a newfound appreciation for the small things.

“How did the vampire situation go?”, Cas asks, taking in a mouthful of soup, only to realise how hot it is as he fans his mouth. “Slow down there, it’s not gonna run away from you”, Dean laughs. Cas smiles back humbly from across the table.

“Pretty normal- as normal as it can be when you’re decapitating vampires”, Sam remarks beside Dean, reaching over to take a massive spoonful of the salad. “Sounds fun, can I come along next time?”, Jack asks; he had missed his chance at ganking some vampires last time, after all.

“Sure, maybe you can do a better job than 4-shot Joe over here”, Dean says, pointing to his brother as he chews on a chunk of beef. Sam raises an eyebrow, offended.

“Hey, he was fast, okay? And it took me 3 swings, actually”, he argues.

“So worried about the details”, Dean shrugs as he hears a chuckle from Cas.

With his eyes meeting the Angel’s from across the table, he feels an overwhelming warmth radiate from within his chest – a comfort and safety he feels on rare occasion.

He gives the Angel a soft smile; they look upon each other as if able to understand the other’s thoughts. He feels the touch of Cas’s leg to his, wrapping and hooking itself around Dean’s calf as they eat.

Sitting here together like this, with Jack and Sam, it’s more than Dean could have ever asked for. Sure, their family isn’t exactly the most conventional family to exist – an Angel, a Nephilim, and two traumatized hunters.

But it’s his family, and what family would it be if it wasn’t his own?