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“Dean?”
He looks up from Breakfast of Champions , as though he’s actually been reading it rather than staring at one page and thinking about everything that happened today with a goofy smile on his face. “Yeah?”
Cas opens his bedroom door and steps inside, and all of Dean’s internal organs drop down to his feet. He’s in a pair of sweatpants and one of Dean’s old t-shirts, and his hair is wet and curling at the nape of his neck. He looks… well, he looks like everything Dean’s ever wanted, whether he knew it or not.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want…” Cas actually looks tentative as he hovers near the door. “I know you like your space, but I thought it might be nice to sleep in the same bed?”
Dean stares for a second, and then it clicks. He laughs. “Dude, are you kidding? If we’re gonna do this, we’re sleeping in the same bed.”
A lovely smile spreads across Cas’s face, and he wastes no time crossing to the bed and slipping under the covers beside Dean. His feet are cold when they tangle with Dean’s, and his hair is still wet on the pillow, and Dean really could not give less of a shit.
Cas looks at him, smiling almost shyly. Dean glances down at his book, and Jesus, he’s fucking blushing . He looks back at Cas to make a joke and deflect some of the fluttering in his stomach, but instead, he catches the deepness of the dark circles underneath Cas’s eyes with concern. “You tired?”
“Very,” Cas says, and with fantastic timing, yawns adorably. “Coming back from the Empty takes a lot out of you, apparently.”
Dean puts his book on the bedside table, not even bothering to mark his page. And before he loses his courage, he slips his arms around Cas and pulls him close. “Before you go to sleep, there’s something I should do.”
Cas arches an eyebrow, like he knows exactly what Dean’s doing but is playing along anyway. “Sounds important. What is it?”
Oh, Dean is so gone on him. “This.”
And yeah, they kissed when Cas came back this morning, and a few more times in the whirlwind of all the reunions and celebrations today. But they have time now, and wow , if Dean thought that was good, then this is fucking spectacular. It’s achingly slow—Cas kisses like he’s trying to memorize every movement, every sensation, and it knocks Dean right out.
They end up cuddling; Dean’s head is on Cas’s chest, and they’re all tangled together, drifting in that comfortable space between awake and asleep; apparently, they skipped right to the schmoopy part of the relationship without even rounding second base, and Dean isn’t annoyed at all. They’ll have sex soon, when they’re both more awake and ready for it. Sex with Cas… for the first time in a very long time, Dean lets his mind wander, lets some fantasies come to life in his mind, and hey, holy shit, turns out Dean’s got a lot more ideas about things he wants to do with Cas than he thought. Delighted laughter bubbles out of him before he can stop it.
Cas shifts, pulling away slightly so he can look down at Dean with sleepy eyes. There’s a slight furrow of confusion in his brow, and Dean’s heart lifts. “What are you laughing at?”
“We’re gonna have sex,” Dean says, still laughing a little, knowing he sounds like a twelve-year-old but not really caring. He’s giddy with the whole thing, his best friend holding him like this in a bed that they now share. “I mean, not right now. But soon, right?”
A wonderful smile, gummy and bright, spreads across Cas’s face. “Yeah, we are.”
“Just you wait, man.” Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m gonna put all my best moves on you. You’ve got no idea.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Cas says, so fondly it would be sickening if it weren’t directed at Dean. And the fact that it is directed at Dean means that he’s the luckiest idiot in the world, so he lifts his head up to kiss Cas again.
This one is more chaste, but there’s something heavier there, more emotion. Dean knows how he feels about Cas, has known for a long time, but it isn’t until now that he thinks he understands its depth. He clings a little bit tighter.
Cas pulls away first. When he does, there’s something shining in his eyes, and Dean’s stomach turns to ice.
“Cas, you alright?” He says, searching his face for what might be wrong. What if Chuck isn’t really gone what if this isn’t real what if he’s going to leave what if —
“I’m alright.” Cas smiles a watery smile, and Jesus, Dean’s back in that room, falling apart on the ground while Billie bangs on the door and the Empty creeps toward Cas. “I’m perfect, actually.”
“You’re crying,” Dean says. His heart is making all this noise inside of him.
Cas lifts a hand to his cheek, and wipes a tear away like he didn’t even notice until Dean pointed it out. He seems sort of amused. “Oh. I guess I am.” And then, like he’s breaking open with the joy of it, he says, “I love you.”
Dean sits up abruptly. Some heavy weight in his chest has shifted, and it’s pressing his heart up against his ribs so it pounds harder and faster like it’s trying to tell him something. Dean looks down at Cas, and he sees thick black bile spilling out of his mouth.
“Dean?” Cas looks almost embarrassed, and he sits up too. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
Dean wants to reassure him, wants to say I love you too , because he does, of course he loves Cas, but the words don’t come. He keeps seeing Cas go, black ooze everywhere, walking into lakes and glowing bright with an angel blade in his back. Cas loves Dean, and it keeps killing him. It just keeps killing him.
“Dean?” Cas repeats, and his tone is different, now, as he notices Dean’s rapid breathing and blank face. He touches Dean’s shoulder, and Dean flinches away from it. Every point of contact between them feels like violence, suddenly, like dry wood with a lit match hurtling toward it, and Dean stands up, stumbling backward. There’s not enough air in the room. There’s not enough air on the entire goddamn planet.
Cas stands up, his movements careful and measured. He surveys Dean with searching eyes, like Dean’s an animal he’s trying not to spook. If Dean weren’t so busy trying to force air in and out of his lungs, he’d probably be offended.
“Dean,” He says. “Dean, it’s alright.”
“I can’t, Cas.” It chokes out of him. Hot tears are burning in his eyes, and Jesus Christ, is this what it’s gonna be now? He can’t even have a nice moment with Cas without flipping out and losing his mind. Shame soaks in around all the panic and fear. “Please, I can’t, just—” Dean drops into his desk chair, elbows on his thighs and head in his hands. This isn’t the first panic attack he’s ever had, not by a long shot, and he knows what to do to weather the storm. He just can’t believe it’s happening now. “God, I’m sorry.”
And he is sorry. He’s sorry for all of it, for all the times he lost Cas, for the fact that Cas loves him so much he’s okay with dying for it, dying because of it. And Dean’s most sorry that he’s not strong enough to convince Cas not to, that Dean is so desperate for Cas to love him back that he lets it happen, no matter how many times it kills Cas.
“Dean.” Cas’s voice comes from somewhere very far away, and still, Dean wants to reach out. It’s going to destroy them both, he thinks, but he wants to reach out and touch him. “Dean, can you look at me?”
So Dean does, panting and crying and feeling like the biggest fucking dumbass on Earth. And there’s Cas, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He doesn’t try to touch Dean, doesn’t do anything but look up at him with a kind of tenderness that feels impossible.
“I’m here,” Cas says. There’s a quiet power to his voice. It’s the same as it was when he walked into that barn all those years ago, except now it’s not a weapon or a threat. It’s a fire, burning bright and present to keep Dean warm. “I’m here, and you’re safe. We’re both safe. We’re both alive.”
A sob claws its way out of Dean. He drops his head again, shaking hands covering his face.
Cas doesn’t move, doesn’t waver, just keeps murmuring soft reassurances while Dean shivers and sobs and breaks apart. Cas tells Dean that he’s here, that they’re safe, that he’s alive, and Dean plays through all ways he’s lost him, how every time he said he loved Dean, it was followed immediately with the crushing hand of grief around Dean’s throat.
The shattering panic subsides eventually, and Dean tries to get a handle on his breathing. Cas falls silent so that the only sound is Dean rattling in-and-outs. He’s waiting, Dean realizes, waiting for him to be ready to speak. Love suffuses him from head to toe despite everything.
Finally, Dean manages to say, “You only say you love me when you die.” It comes out softly, so softly, and he can’t remember hearing his own voice sound like this before. He didn’t think it could. “You say it, and then you’re gone.”
It still surprises Dean, after all this time, the depth and capacity for emotion on Cas’s face. The sadness there now is enough to make Dean’s chest feel like it’s going to cave in all over again. “Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sick of losing you, Cas.” Dean tries to collect himself before he continues—he’s cried more than enough today. “I’ve done it too many times, and this last time… This last time almost killed me. I can’t do it again, and when you say you—” The words die in his throat. “When you say how you feel about me, I go back to that place, and fuck, Cas, I can’t do it.”
It might as well be a confession of its own in the quiet twilight of the bedroom.
“I don’t want it to hurt you, Dean,” Cas says quietly.
“I know.” Dean tips forward, because he’s always touchy after a panic attack, and this is Cas , who, for better or worse, loves him. Cas gathers him up in his arms without hesitation. The angle’s weird, so Dean just ends up sinking to his knees across from him. He buries his face in Cas’s neck and listens to the heartbeat there. He’s alive. He’s alive, and they’re together.
“Maybe I just need to reassociate, or something,” Dean says after a moment. His knees are killing him on the concrete floor, but there’s no fucking way he’s moving. “Maybe if… if you say it enough, and you’re fine, it’ll be okay.”
Cas is quiet, then says, “Do you think so?”
Dean pulls back, and tries for a grin. It probably falls a little flat. “Worth a shot.”
Cas gives him a small smile. He cups Dean’s face, runs his thumb across Dean’s cheek, and kisses him so gently it should ache. But it doesn’t ache, and it doesn’t twist in Dean’s gut. It makes him light up. Like turning on all Christmas lights after a year without them.
For a moment, or maybe a decade, there’s only the kiss. And then Cas moves barely an inch away, and like he’s answering a question Dean’s been asking for twelve years, he says, “I love you.”
There’s a shot of adrenaline, the specter of black ooze, but Cas is kissing him again. And hey, it’s still new enough that the novelty’s not gone, and Dean’s thinking, holy shit I’m kissing Cas again . And as the kiss deepens, Dean thinks the novelty of kissing Cas might never wear off. He’s okay with that.
They get to their feet, still kissing, and Cas lays Dean down on the bed. He hovers over Dean for a brief moment, absolutely looking the part of an otherworldly angel with his eyes almost glowing in the semi-darkness, and says, “I love you.”
Then he rolls back onto the bed, pulls Dean close to him, and says, “I love you.” He laces their hands together and says, “I love you.” He peppers kisses across Dean’s face, leaving them both laughing breathlessly with exhaustion and giddy affection, and he says, “I love you.” Before they finally drift off to sleep in one another’s arms, Cas whispers, “I love you, Dean.”
But it doesn’t stop there. The next morning, while Dean’s frying eggs for breakfast and listening to Sam blather on about something Eileen said, Cas comes up behind him, hooks his head over his shoulder, and says, “I love you.” He says it while they’re eating, and when Jack makes them watch the Bee Movie, and when they fall into bed that night. He says it as they actually do have sex, as he opens Dean up with steady fingers, and again as he slips inside, the words catching beautifully in his throat. He says it in that hazy sweetness of after.
He says it over and over and over, until those first two horrible moments fade in memory, and all that’s left is Cas’s small smile when he says, “I love you.”
And every time, in disbelief and in joy and in love, Dean says, “I love you, too.”