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Cas is a coward.
He’s taller than a skyscraper and has lead armies and slain thousands and he’s a coward.
He’s a coward because Dean just died, and he couldn’t save him- too busy tending to Heaven and Jack, his human radio turned off because he assumed that everyone would be fine now. He’s a coward because here he is, in the Heaven he helped craft for Dean, in the Roadhouse surrounded by everyone Dean’s ever helped or met in his life-
And he can’t bring himself to say a simple hello to him.
How could he? After saying... all of that, to Dean, before dying in front of him. He doesn’t deserve it.
He’s a coward, because when Dean ran up to where he was hiding behind a post, all wide-eyed and red faced, Cas had told him that he wasn’t Cas.
That he was, in fact, Jimmy. Jimmy Novak.
Cas doesn’t even really register how Dean reacts, his nervousness and awe of seeing Dean again drowning everything out. Dean asked him a question, though. He should probably reply before he starts to suspect something.
“Um,” Cas coughs, pitching his voice 3 octaves higher. “Yes. Cas is, uh, around.” And Cas can’t keep his eyes off Dean’s face, taking in the hard set to his jaw, the glint in his eyes, the lack of scars on his face since it got smoothened over once he passed into Heaven. Dean looks away.
“Y’know, the least you could do is stop wearin’ the trenchcoat.”
Cas pauses, thinks of what Jimmy might say. “Well, it was my trenchcoat first.” And Cas thinks, even this vessel is not mine, truly.
“You’ve uh, you’ve seen him?” Dean says as he starts to scan the room with military precision.
“Y-yes,” Cas says, drawing out the Y. “He is, um. Good.” he offers, unsure of what Dean is feeling, unsure of what he’s thinking, unsure of how he wants Cas to feel.
On the last word, Dean finally snaps his head to look back at him- something hard and resolute in his eyes. Cas can't quite place his expression either- determined, maybe? Angry, perhaps? He's unconsciously biting on his bottom lip, a nervous tic Dean has.
“Well, if you see him again,” Dean starts, sharply, “You tell ‘em I got something I need to say to his stupid feathery ass.”
Ah. So, anger, then.
Cas nods despite himself, despite the erratic thrumming beneath his chest, the cold sweat prickling his neck and back. He wants to look away, knows he should look away, that Dean might figure it out if he stares a second longer- but he can't. He takes in him for a final time before Dean gives him a curt nod and turns away, marching back into the sea of bodies that have congregated in the center of the roadhouse.
Dean has something to say to him, and it's not anything good by the sound of it. He feels his breaths quickening despite the fact that he doesn't need to breathe- a holdover from his brief stint as a human, a side effect from living amongst them for too long. Cas, not for the first time, is acutely aware of the collection of actions and tics he's amassed over the years that make up the person-angel-thing that he is today. Just one more aspect of himself that he's borrowed and copied and stolen, he thinks, fists clenching, and Castiel feels sick in what might be described as his “stomach”, his proximity to Heaven and the person he confessed his love to making it hard not to burst out of his Jimmy suit, to let his nervous energy explode in a tangle of heads and wheels and wings. He grips the counter behind him, steadying himself. He takes a deep breath the same way he’s seen Sam and Dean done a million times before. Knowing that he's an angel. Knowing that he doesn't need to breathe. And he tells himself that, again and again and again. And yet, his “body” does not listen.
Dean was wrong. The trenchcoat wasn't Cas’. This body isn't technically his. And Dean- Dean isn't his, either.
He looks up, scanning the room until he sees what he’s looking for- which is not hard, in spite of the hundreds of souls in the roadhouse right now, Dean’s still burns the brightest. A beacon in a sea of lights. He takes in the back of Dean's blocky head as he laughs at something Charlie says, shoulders shaking with it. He waits a second, then another, selfishly wanting to see the one thing that brings him any amount of calm, despite it being the thing that's partially setting him off at the moment.
And Dean turns.
And Cas sees green.
He exhales.
With a flutter drowned out by the noise of the bar, Cas flies away- out of the roadhouse, out of Dean’s heaven, out of the peripheries and fields and gardens, and does not let himself stop until he reaches the very edge of Heaven.
He lets himself sit upon one of the grassy cliffs that decorate Heaven's edge, something universally aesthetically pleasing to all the inhabitants who live there, his feet dangling over the edge of nothingness and everything.
He lets the lush green of Heaven and the silent buzz of power under his feet calm his frazzled nerves.
He breathes out.
“Castiel,” Jack says, strained. “How long are you going to keep this up?”
Cas and Jack are standing in a rainforest, far, far away from Dean’s heaven. With a flick of his wrist, Cas erects a great, twisting mangrove tree in the wetlands before them. With a pinching motion, Jack takes it down in size, absentmindedly.
Cas sighs. pitches himself forward toward the tree, shoes slapping the top of the water with each step, the cuffs of his trousers getting wet with water droplets.
“Leave it, Jack.” he says, half at Jack’s comment, half at Jack motioning to make the tree even smaller. Jack aquiescies, quickly taking small pitter-patter steps on the water to catch up behind Cas. Today’s a building day.
“I don’t like lying, Cas.” Jack blinks, and a tiny, baby alligator appears in his hand. “It's not right.”
Cas turns to face Jack, his hand making a sweeping motion over the reptile’s head, turning it into a darker shade of green that matches the rest of the forest.
“It's... complicated, Jack.”
But Jack doesn't back down, holding the baby alligator tighter in his arms. “He asks for you, you know. every time I see him- it’s always just,” Jack furrows his eyebrows, pitching his voice down an octave or two, straining with it. “‘Have you seen Cas?’ or ‘Whats Cas up to?’ and ‘Hey kid you mind pullin’ in a few favors to get that sonofabitch in front of me for just 2 seconds?’” His eyes go wide, clearly exasperated. It's a look Cas has seen on Dean countless times before. “It’s non stop, Cas! Sam’s getting sick of it too- Can you please just- just talk to him, already,” he finishes miserably, alligator nibbling on his index finger.
“Jack...” Cas looks away, at the water beneath their feet. “I can’t. Not now.” And Cas thinks, then when? He’s a coward and he knows it- he doesn't want to face Dean’s outright rejection and yet puts off doing it like living in this limbo is any better. “I’m not... I'm not ready. but I will. I will.” he promises, trying to put on an assuring smile for Jack. Jack only looks at him quizzically. He points the alligator at Cas.
“You said that 2 weeks ago.”
“Well, it was only 3 days ago for me. Time is relative here, Jack.”
“For Dean it might as well have been a whole year with the way he's acting!” and Cas feels his skin prickling, his wheels shifting. Was Dean THAT ready to reject Cas? Had he wanted to get this done and over with so quickly? When Dean entered Heaven, Cas had thought that perhaps the promise of eternity surrounded by all his friends and family along with the promise of everything else that Heaven brings would be enough to make Dean forget, forget about the confession, hell, even forget about Cas. A small selfish part of him wanted that to be the case, Castiel already resigning himself to watching over the man he loves from a distance for all of eternity.
Cas says nothing. With a twist of a finger, small fish appear in the water under them, orange scales glistening gold in the sunlight.
Jack sighs, stroking the reptile’s head. “He asked me, you know, why Jimmy Novak of all people was in his Heaven.” He stares at Cas. “And why not you.”
Cas swallows a lump in his throat and suddenly feels the urge to flea, to plunge himself in the water below him, to take flight back to Heaven’s edge. He understood where Dean was coming from- knew he was fiercely loyal to the people in his life, to the people he had lost. Of course Dean would think that he’d want Cas in his Heaven- because Dean is fundamentally a good person, because Dean does things out of moral obligations, because Dean so often disregards his own comfort and wants in favor of doing what he thinks is the right thing.
But this was Heaven, and Cas would be damned if Dean spent a single day in it uncomfortable and angry. Dean should know that he doesn’t have to want to see Cas anymore, not when he was surrounded by actual friends and family- friends and family who haven’t lied to him or betrayed him or given him unwanted deathbed love confessions.
“I’ll talk to him, Jack.” Cas says, voice small. He takes a step forward, gingerly removing the gator in Jack's grip from where it's chewing on the sleeve of his jacket. With a small rush of grace, he soothes the struggling animal, displeased to be out of Jack’s hands. He bends down and gingerly deposits it in the water, watching it as it disappears into the rocks and soil below. Jack waves at it goodbye.
“Good.”
Okay.
Cas was going to talk to Dean. He had it all planned out in his head- an explanation, an apology, a promise never to disturb Dean ever again if he so wishes. He’d spent the entire day practising his speech, flying in the skies above Dean’s heaven, wings ripping through the clouds in gusts of manic energy.
All over talking to Dean. Dean, his once-friend. Dean, the person he’d tell all his secrets and truths to. Dean, the person he fucking confessed his love to. Dean, the person he still loves.
Cas wonders, belatedly, if it’s possible to put a platonic spin on it. If it might cause Dean to be less upset with him. He rips through the air, clouds trailing in his wake. But he realizes if that was the case, he should’ve probably gone to see him the moment he set foot in Heaven- after all, a platonic confession has nothing to hide. He’d missed his chance the moment he excused himself from greeting Dean when he got here.
He had gone to hide, once again, at the edge of Heaven. It was all he seemed he could do, all he was ever good at- running away, from Heaven, from Dean and Sam, from Death, and now, just Dean.
But Cas was done running.
Or so he thought.
Okay, okay, he WAS going to talk to Dean- he promised Jack he would. But when green eyes locked onto his own blue ones as Dean exited the grocery store, bags of cans and bread clenched tightly in his fists, he panicked, okay?
“Cas?” Dean shouts, crossing the street in a jog. “Cas!”
And he was getting closer and closer.
To Cas.
And oh FUCK, Cas was NOT ready. Nope. Nope. Nope.
And so, with his voice pitched up higher, he straightens himself. Physically and metaphorically.
“It’s still Jimmy, Dean.” he breathes out, as Dean comes to a stop in front of him, eyes wide and bags swinging from the momentum of his run. Dean looks upwards, suddenly, a look of pure frustration etched on his face.
“Right.” He grits out. “Uh. Sorry about it, dude. Again.” He wasn't looking at Jimmy-Cas now. He’s instead looking at the sky. “Honestly this is getting ridiculous. This is like what, the third time already?”
Cas nods. It’s actually the fourth, he thinks, but doesnt say out loud. He bites the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming out at Dean in front of him. Ever since entering Heaven, Dean started dressing a lot more casually- forgoing the layers of jackets and flannels and shirts for just a shirt with a simple soft oversized flannel hugging him loosely. He looked gorgeous. Comfortable. Soft. And Cas desperately wants to hold him.
“My apologies, Dean,” he manages to croak out, hoping the pitch of Jimmy's voice hides his fluster.
Dean straightens himself, shifting the groceries in his hands. He jerks his head. “You’ve seen him recently? Cas?”
“No,” Cas says, like a liar.
Dean looks down at his feet, his brows furrowing. It's only then Cas sees the all too familiar signs of Dean's thinly veiled anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It makes Cas queasy- this was Heaven, for crying out loud. And Dean was- Dean is- upset. Angry, even.
Over Cas.
Over their last conversation.
Cas feels the urge to throw up, lurching forward slightly. He doesn’t deserve to be here- he didn't deserve to be saved- he should've been left there, in the Empty, he should've never come to Dean’s Heaven to begin with- he should’ve, he could’ve, he-
“Woah! Woah, hey, you alright, man?” Dean asks, placing a tentative, gentle hand on Cas’ arm. It grounds him. It’s more than he deserves.
“Yes,” he manages to get out. “J-just, uh,” he closes his eyes, lets Dean’s warm touch anchor him down. He wracks his brain for an excuse. “Just had some bad eggs this morning,” he finishes lamely.
Dean looks at him quizzically, withdrawing his hand. “I didn’t know you could get food poisoning in Heaven.”
“Neither did I,” Cas says, quickly, covering up his lie with another one. “But then again, my wife did make me those eggs, so I suppose if she wanted them to be bad as a prank, they would be.”
“Right,” Dean says, looking like he’s mentally adding that to his Heaven-mechanics-logic file. “Well, uh, I hope she’s doin’ good.”
“She is. We’re in Heaven, after all.”
“That makes one of us. Uh. Look, I gotta get going,” Dean says, holding up his bags of stuff. “See ya around, Jimmy,” He says, awkwardly, as he starts to walk back to the impala.
Cas smiles at him, tight lipped, and waits for Dean to drive out of eyesight.
With a flap of his wings, he disappears to the edge once again.
The thing is, Cas really was trying to work himself up to it.
A week after the last incident he showed up at the roadhouse, a karaoke-off happening- hosted by Dean, of course.
He really, really, really was going to tell the truth to Dean this time. To apologize. To hear what Dean wanted to say to him.
But then, Dean, drunk and giggly, mistook him for Jimmy before he could get a word in, and Cas was too chickenshit to correct him.
“I’ll pass, Dean,” Cas-as-Jimmy croaks out, as Dean tries to press a microphone into his hand. Dean pouted before hurrying off to find Jo. Cas breathes out a sigh of relief as the attention is turned away from him.
“He’s gonna figure it out, y’know,”
Cas turns and sighs at Charlie standing next to him, nursing a beer.
“I know.”
“You’re also a really, really bad liar,”
“I know ,”
Cas frowns. Charlie takes pity on him and hands him a beer.
“Whatever doomsday scenario you think is gonna happen in that big ol’ brain of yours probably isn’t gonna happen, pal,” Charlie starts, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Also, the sooner you talk to him, the less time I need to spend hearing him whine.”
Cas starts peeling off the label on the beer bottle.
“I know. I just-” He clenches his fist. He sighs. “I don’t know.”
Charlie gives him a gentle smile.
“Talk to him. He really does miss you, Cas.” And for all that Cas knows that Charlie isn’t one to lie, he finds it really hard to believe. Cas knows that Dean will definitely not be too pleased when he finds out Cas has been lying to him all this time, too.
He nods. Charlie gives him one final pat on the shoulder- and a harder one on his ass- as she makes her way frantically to the stage when she realizes that Dean queued up I Wanna Dance With Somebody.
Cas glances at Dean one final time, at his toothy smile and the way he’s slurring the lyrics, at his bright green eyes twinkling under the stage lights before he flies away.
Cas was really trying.
He’d see Dean- at the roadhouse, at the park, even working himself to go up to his lake house, once- before blanching the moment Dean turns his head and flying away.
He thinks that anxiousness is an acutely human concept. That he wasn’t ever built to feel something like this- so forgive him if he seems ill-equipped to deal with it.
He understands, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Dean will figure it out eventually. That if he doesn’t fess up soon, Dean's going to find out himself- and maybe he won’t even want to speak to Cas, then.
Cas gulps at the thought.
With a flap of his wings, he finds himself at the park. He sees Dean sitting on a bench, watching the ducks swim by. Dean’s back is turned to him. He hears Dean hum a familiar tune.
Cas thinks that Dean is at peace. He wouldn’t want to interrupt this serene moment. He thinks, next time. He’ll speak to him next time. As his wings draw up in anticipation of flight, a familiar voice cuts through his thoughts.
“Castiel!”
And Cas freezes.
He knows that voice.
He's been emulating that voice for weeks now.
“Jimmy,” he breathes out, head whipping to the source of the sound.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Dean startle, turning to look at the commotion behind him. His eyes widen in surprise when his gaze lands on Cas, which morphs into confusion when he sees a nearly-identical copy of him jogging towards him- albeit in a striped polo shirt and khaki pants.
“Cas?” Dean says, voice rough. He stands up slowly, as if Castiel was a cornered animal, as if one wrong move would set him off running.
“Small heaven, huh, Castiel?” Jimmy says, catching up to them. He gives Cas a look. “You're... still wearing that coat, I see.” Jimmy sniffs. He seems utterly oblivious to Dean internally combusting next to him, to Cas who’s still frozen in shock in front of him.
“Oh, hey there, Winchester,” Jimmy says, noticing Dean at last. “It’s been a while. Didn’t know you kicked the bucket already,” He grimaces, sympathetic.
With that, Dean’s brows only get more furrowed, and Cas can hear the gears turning in his head as he tries to piece it all together. Castiel gulps.
Cas sees the realization dawn on Dean’s face. His head snaps up.
“Cas.” he grits out, thinly veiled frustration and something else Cas can’t quite put his finger on coloring his voice.
Jimmy cocks his head to the side. He waves a hand in front of Castiel's face.
“Castiel?”
And with that, Cas finally finds the strength to unfurl his wings and fly away.
Cas sits quietly at the cliff’s edge. He seems to be doing a lot of that these days. Idly, he manifests small, tiny flowers up from the ground with a nervous up-down-up-down movement of his hand, thinking he might as well turn his nervous energy into something productive. He thinks that maybe he should just stay here forever. Maybe he shouldn’t return to Dean’s Heaven, that he shouldn’t spy on him anymore. It feels disingenuous. It feels wrong. He sighs. He pulls a flower from the ground, plucking its leaves with his fingers idly. He makes sure it grows back as he continues plucking. He lets it fall into his lap, the white petals a stark contrast against his- against Jimmy’s- black slacks.
He should go, he should stay. He should go, he should stay.
And Cas really could’ve spent an entire eternity like that, just sitting there on the grass, but a cough and a shout pulls him out of his thoughts.
“Cas!”
And Cas blanches.
It’s Dean.
But- But how-
His answer emerges when he sees Jack sheepishly step out from behind Dean. He waves at Cas.
“You said I couldn’t tell him where you were, but you didn’t say anything about him following me,”
Cas frowns. He supposes that Jack… is right. But he’s not pleased about it. Dean isn’t even looking at Jack, his eyes focused on Cas. It makes Cas nervous. He stands up, patting off petals as he does.
“I suppose I didn’t,” Cas squints his eyes at Jack. Jack smiles, obviously pleased that he didn’t go against Cas’ words- not technically, anyway.
“Alright, I gotta go. Um. Do God stuff, y’know? So many things to do… I’ll see you guys around!”
And with a flap of his wings, Jack is gone.
For a moment, Cas aches to follow him, his wings twitching in anticipation of flight. He could. It would be so easy.
But he supposes he’s avoided this long enough. He’s avoided Dean long enough. With a sigh, he meets Dean’s eyes for the first time.
“Hello, Dean,”
Dean says nothing and instead begins walking closer to Castiel, steadily closing the distance between them. Cas is- Cas is alarmed, the anticipation making his hands clammy and his throat tight. He supposes he deserves whatever Dean is about to do to him- a punch, maybe. Shouting, most definitely. He briefly looks down to the void behind him.
Seeing Cas turn to look behind him, Dean stops in his tracks, a mere arm’s length away from Castiel. This close, Cas can hear Dean’s ragged breaths, can feel his elevated heartbeat. He even- strangely enough- feels the longing he’s always picked up on from Dean. It leaves him confused. Dean should not feel longing, not anymore at least. In Heaven, all should be at peace. Dean, most of all.
Reminding himself that he is, after all, a cosmic being, he straightens his jaw and stares right back at Dean. Dean’s silence might as well be louder than a fighter jet. But then, Dean lurches forward-
And Cas braces himself even though he knows he doesn’t have to, knows that he is infinitely stronger than Dean-
Before-
Before Dean pulls him into an all-encompassing, bone-crushing hug.
“You stupid son of a bitch,” Dean chokes out, as his fingers dig into Cas’ arms. If Cas was human, it would most certainly leave bruises. Dean holds onto him like he thinks that Cas is going to slip out of his grasp.
Cas has to remind himself to plant his feet firmly on the ground. It takes him all his might to not let his wings rip out of his Jimmy suit, to not let his secondary wings take Dean into his grasp and whisk him away- to show Dean even the slightest inkling of what Cas is feeling right now. They hug for what realistically is mere minutes, but for all Cas knows it’s been hours, days, years. Dean suddenly seems to remember himself and slowly peels away from Cas.
For all that Cas knows Dean, knows how he thinks and behaves and what he loves and hates, for all that he’s stitched his body and knit his bones back together with his own bare hands, he’s confused- stumped, when he sees the look on Dean’s face as he pulls away. It’s not of tight-lipped anger, nor frustrated confusion- but rather, a resigned sadness.
Cas doesn’t know what to say.
“I don’t know what to say to you, man,” Dean says, beating him to the punch.
“I always thought at the back of my head that it was you, not Jimmy,” Dean starts. He’s still not looking at him. “I didn’t say anything or pry because I didn’t wanna spook ya, thought that if I said anything at all you might just disappear,” He whispers the last part like it's a secret. Cas gulps.
“Dean-” he starts, not even knowing what to say in response to that.
“More than anything,” Dean says, cutting him off, voice rough. “I just didn’t understand why ,” Dean clenches his fists once, unclenches them. He breathes out. “Why you’d say all that to me, before you died, only to not say anything to me at all when I got here,”
Cas can hardly breathe. He knows he doesn’t have to. He knows.
“I just- if you’d change your mind, or if you didn’t mean what you said… If you were scared that I might hold you to it now or somethin’..." He shakes his head. "I wish you’d just talk to me, man,”
Cas wishes Dean would look at him. He doesn’t deserve it, but he wishes Dean would just look.
Dean lets out a watery laugh.
“But, I mean, I know you’re a big deal around here now- as you should be,” He sniffs. “And maybe you said those things before because- I mean, I guess it was a pretty small bunker. Not much room for choice. But I’m not gonna hold you to it. I mean, how could I even compare to another angel? Another person, even?” And Cas… Does not understand, cannot piece together what Dean is actually trying to mean. He watches as Dean cards a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled. He desperately wants to tuck each lock and strand back into place.
“But to say all that and then nothin’ at all when I got here… That’s just,” He shakes his head, mostly to himself. “What did I do, man?”
It’s only then does Dean finally look up at him, pleading and desperate. Cas can hardly breathe.
He knows, he knows, he knows he doesn’t have to.
“Nothing,” he replies. He knows it's not nearly enough. He can’t seem to find the words. He knows every single language and dialect, extinct and or otherwise, and words are still escaping him.
“Then why, Cas?” Dean asks, voice cracking on it. It’s only then does Cas muster the strength to open his mouth and say something back.
“Because,” He swallows. Reminds himself he doesn’t have to. He thinks, because I am a coward. Because I didn't know what else to do. Because I did not want to hear your rejection, not because I was not ready for it, but because I, selfishly, didn't want to hear it. Because I wanted to delay the inevitable. To live in this prolonged purgatory for as long as the lie allowed me to.
Cas figures he might as well get everything out of the way, seeing as though this might very well be the last chance he gets to talk to Dean.
“The truth is, Dean,” He says instead. Dean looks like he’s hanging onto every last breath Cas takes. “I’ve been lying to you from the start.” He looks down at his hands. “This vessel,” He looks upon himself, grabs the lapels of his- Jimmy’s trench coat. “is just that. A vessel. A borrowed identity. This voice, face, this… Person, you’ve come to know me as, is not me,”
Cas looks back up. Dean looks lost.
“When I said… What I said to you in the dungeon,” Cas starts. “I, selfishly, wasn’t thinking of the after,” He shakes his head. “That was supposed to be it for me, Dean. I wasn’t supposed to come back,” He swallows, takes a breath. Feels the approximation of his lungs expanding and deflating in his ribcage, stuttering to get out. “I wasn’t supposed to face the after,” I wasn’t supposed to face you, he doesn’t add.
“But when Jack brought me back, it gave me time to think,” He clenches and unclenches his fist, eyes scouring over old scars- from Jimmy, and new ones, from him. “And I just… How could I come to speak to you, Dean?” Cas shakes his head. “Pretending to be Jimmy only made me realize the lie I’ve been living in from the start. That this life I’ve borrowed never was for me to take, in the first place,” He thinks back to Claire, her mom. Thinks back to the lives he’s uprooted because of this vessel, this body.
“And I didn’t come speak to you here because- because I was afraid, Dean.”
Cas sees a million and one different emotions flicker across Dean’s face, before he settles on one of determination, jaw clenched.
“You’re spendin’ too much time in your own head, pal,” Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to gather himself from what Cas had just said.
“Look, man," he starts. "I don’t care if you got 6 heads and a flaming dick, I don’t care if you don’t have a dick at all,” Dean does a small shake of his head. “It’s you to me. You’re you to me,”
Dean takes a couple of breaths before he deflates, shoulders sagging with it.
“I wish you’d just talked to me, man,” He whispers.
Cas more than anything wants to reach out to Dean, to comfort him, to let tendrils of his grace calm him down. He knows it would not be appreciated at this moment, so he refrains.
“I’m here now.”
“Not by choice,” Dean says, wryly. “Had to use the ol’ dad-voice on Jack,”
Cas smiles despite himself. “I was… going to work myself up to talking to you, eventually.”
Dean raises his eyebrows at that, obviously not believing Cas. After a moment, Dean sighs, letting his hands drop from where they’ve been resting on his hips.
“Lets sit,” Dean takes a couple of steps forward and stands next to Cas, right on the edge of the cliff. “C’mon,” and with that, he plops himself down on the grass unceremoniously, grunting with it.
Dean pats at the grassy patch next to him, rustling up the petals Cas had plucked earlier on. A couple of them get caught in the light breeze and dance off the edge, into the nothingness below them.
“Alright,” Cas says, because he can never say no to Dean. He sits down next to him, a carefully calculated distance between them. Dean can’t see this and Cas won’t tell him, but Cas has a wing positioned under his feet just in case Dean falls. Not that he could get significantly injured in Heaven, anyway, but old habits are hard to shake off. Cas feels his wheels shift, his infinite amount of eyes zeroed in on the man sitting next to him.
They sit in silence for a moment, letting a cool breeze wash over them. In the distance, Cas can hear birds chirping. From the corner of his eye, he steals a quick glance at Dean, and is secretly pleased to see him with his eyes closed, a content look on his face. He looks at peace. Cas is acutely aware of the fact that this might be the last time he ever talks to Dean or looks at him from this close if this conversation goes awry. He indulgently lets the silence linger for a second longer before clearing his throat.
“Dean,” Cas starts, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”
Dean hums. Cas thinks that Heaven has made Dean a lot lighter- his shoulders less tense, his posture more loose and easy. Heaven does that to a lot of people. He thinks that maybe, if they were on Earth, Dean wouldn’t ask him to sit next to him. Dean would, perhaps, yell.
But he would be very much alive.
Cas feels old guilt wash over him like an icy cold wave.
“And I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, either.” Cas looks down at his hands, at Jimmy’s hands. “In the barn,” he clarifies.
Dean doesn’t seem phased at all. He plucks a small dandelion and holds it up, letting a gust of wind carry the fluff away.
“S’fine. It is what it is,” he shrugs. “It’s not your job to save me. Don’t even worry ‘bout it, alright? I’m havin’ a good time here. Much better than the last couple weeks on Earth, anyway,” Dean says with a pained laugh.
Cas nods. He bites back his inner monologue of I know it’s not my job to save you, but I want to. He thinks that maybe, if Dean can find peace in his death- Cas can make peace with it, too. He sees Dean idly twist the dandelion stem between his fingers, rolling it. They sit in silence for a moment.
“Cas… what you said to me, before you died,” Dean clears his throat. “You meant it?”
Cas furrows his brows in confusion. “Of course I did, Dean." He clears his throat. "I still mean it. I wish… things were different. I would have never said it to you unless I had to.” Cas feels his skin prickle with a familiar restlessness. “You must understand, Dean- I value our friendship greatly. To alter it or put any discomfort on you because of how I felt- how I feel… it was never my intention." He hangs his head low. "Nevertheless, I said it. And I can't take it back. But everything I said to you in that dungeon… was true. Is still true.” Cas finishes. And for all the confidence and bravado Cas felt, in that dungeon, his eyes never leaving Dean’s once, Cas can barely muster the strength to look at him, now. He looks down to his lap, waiting for the axe to drop. For Dean to tell him to never speak to him again, for Dean to get up and leave without another word.
Instead, Cas feels a gentle- albeit clammy- hand slowly come up to the side of his face, cradling it. His eyes widen in shock and anticipation as he finally looks back up at Dean. Dean, who’s cheeks are flushed, who's erratic heartbeat is so loud that to Cas, it feels like it's coming from the ground beneath them. He sees Dean gulp, Adam’s apple bobbing with it, and Cas is frozen to where he’s sitting, can hardly move, can hardly breathe-
And Dean leans in-
And Cas holds his breath-
As Cas feels Dean’s fingers curl into the back of his head-
And Dean kisses him.
It’s rough even though Cas is sure Dean didn’t mean for it to be, their nose bumping together at an awkward angle, Dean's teeth crashing into his. Dean kisses him like- like he means it. Like he’s got something to prove.
Dean peels back, and Cas still can’t breathe. The hand on Cas’ head brings him in slightly. Dean leans in so their foreheads are almost touching.
“Let me bottom line it for you, okay? Me too, Cas.” Dean’s other hand finds the other side of Castiel's face. This close, Cas can see the flecks of yellow in Dean’s eyes, can count each individual freckle dotting his nose. He still doesn’t breathe. “I love you too. You.”
Cas finally breathes out, his wings and wheels unfurling with it from within him. He smiles in disbelief and lets out a watery laugh. Below the surface, he feels a sudden unfathomable burst of giddy, manic energy take root within him- tendrils of it sprouting throughout the very essence of his being- something far more acute and intense than even what he felt confessing his love to Dean in that dungeon. He looks at Dean. He thinks that maybe Dean can feel it too. He wants Dean to feel it.
With shaky hands, he brings a single finger up to Dean’s forehead- an action he’s done many, many times in the past, but this time, it's different. His finger meets Dean's skin and he lets Dean feel.
For a split second Dean’s eyes widen in pure shock and Cas is afraid he might have overwhelmed him. But when he tries to draw his hand back, Dean’s own hands find their way onto his wrist, latching on firmly, preventing him from pulling back. Cas sees Dean’s eyes dilate- so much so that his grassy greens have almost become pure black.
“Cas,” he whispers, breathless.
Cas leans in and kisses him, gentler than Dean had, but no less fervent or true.
And, unbeknownst to Dean, on the grassy cliff where they’re sitting, flowers- big and small, of every shade and color- bloom and sprout all around them.