Chapter Text
In the past, when Dean had daydreamed about a relationship with Castiel, he had imagined a lot of things. But he'd never pictured Cas as a PDA guy. How wrong he had been.
As it turns out, Cas is shameless. The first day that Dean got a crash course in just how few fucks Cas has to give, it was late on a sunny afternoon in Utah. They were 3 and a half days into a frustrating case, and Dean's nerves were worn thin. He was high strung, twitchy, and (admittedly) probably not a lot of fun to be around. That is, until Cas sidled up next to him, carefully turned him around from the trunk where he'd been anxiously rummaging, and just… kissed him. It was gentle and soothing, and for the first time in over 12 hours, Dean was given a moment to pause, to breathe.
But it was also right smack in the middle of a rural truck stop.
You'd think it was choreographed with how many heads turned at once to gawk at them.
Immediately Dean's heart had begun to pound, and he'd been struck by a sudden, panicked instinct to make some sort of excuse, to explain himself in a rush because surely he can come up with something, because they're all looking, they're all judging him, scorning him—
Dean had just frozen.
But Cas, after realizing what Dean was looking at, had turned all the way around to face the random onlookers.
"Why don't you all draw a picture, it will last longer," he growled. Dean incredulously let his breath out, huffing a little laugh because he knew Cas learned that phrase from him and Sam.
Most of the nosy bastards had looked away sheepishly, and even the stubborn stragglers didn't hold up for long, not with the way that Cas was glaring at them. Dean wouldn't have been surprised if his eyes had started literally burning holes in people.
Back in the car again with Cas by his side, windows closed and the truck stop shrinking in the rearview, Dean felt tears pooling in his eyes, and he didn't really know why. He just knew it was something to do with that conviction he saw on Cas' face. The unflinching way he'd stepped up to defend them. His fearlessness. Because it had been a long, long day, and Dean had needed that kiss, and goddammit, he wished those disapproving looks didn't affect him, and yet still they did.
But Cas? Cas was unapologetic. Brave. Cas didn't give a single fuck. Dean desperately wished and hoped and dreamed to have that level of confidence.
As if he could hear those thoughts, Cas had reached across the seats and placed a reassuring hand on Dean's knee. He didn't say anything, he just kept his hand there. Somehow, the simple but tender gesture diluted Dean's self hatred a little.
Sometimes when Dean went on a hunt with just Cas, he couldn't help but notice the pride in the angel's voice whenever he ordered a single bed hotel room.
Cas will hold Dean's hand on a simple food run. He'll stroke Dean's hair when he's stressed out and clearly getting overwhelmed. He doesn't care where or when.
Whenever they're on a plainclothes stakeout, Cas will always drop the partner act in favor of the partner reality. He doesn't seem to care at all about hetero social norms or anybody's judgement. He wraps his arm around Dean's shoulders whenever he feels like it.
There were even a couple of times when Dean got captured, and when his captors put him on the phone with Cas, he'd make sure Dean didn't forget how loved he is.
Castiel doesn't fear all the ways their love could be used against them. To him, it's more important to be certain that if Dean dies, he dies with one last comforting thought to cling onto.
It takes Dean a while to get used to all of this affection. Sometimes Cas will be busy with something, and Dean will just watch him with a dopey grin, still incredulous at the fact that he got lucky enough to have this. Sometimes in the starkly contrasting silence after a battle they almost didn't win, as Dean lets his weapon slip from his hand and stumbles into Castiel's arms, he'll cling too tightly, still terrified that he might be cursed enough to lose this.
Their lives haven't gotten any easier, and Dean's not holding his breath. But at the end of every day, no matter how harrowing, Dean will still find Castiel next to him, even if it's just in the form of a good night text. The only regret Dean has is that he didn't let himself do this sooner.
There are still nightmares occasionally, usually when Dean is stressed to Hell, that bring him back to that horrible night when he watched his angel die. He still wakes up in a panic, or even in tears, disoriented when he realizes he's not soaked with rain. Not kneeling in the mud beside himself with grief. Not at the edge of a lake with his heart in pieces.
Dean wakes up from his fitful sleep, hands tangled in the hotel comforter, but he's not alone anymore. Cas is right by his side, still doing research on his dimmed phone.
Cas peels his attention from whatever he's reading, looks down at Dean's tear-streaked face, and immediately puts his phone down. He slowly reaches out to push a few damp strands of hair from Dean's forehead, whispering, "are you okay, love? did you have a nightmare?" And Dean nods weakly.
"Yeah," he says with a sigh, his voice a little shakier than he'd like, "my favorite one."
Cas' expression changes, somehow even more tender now. He abandons his research on the nightstand and settles in next to Dean, pulling the blanket over them and enclosing Dean into his strong embrace.
"Okay," Cas softly murmurs, "everything's okay, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I won't leave you again."
Every damn day, Dean prays that promise will always stay true.
These days, Cas drives Dean's beloved car sometimes. And he looks good in it. Dean had felt like a lovestruck teenager the first time he saw Cas lean one gorgeously tanned arm out the window, and steer with the other. He had blushed enough to match the sunrise when Cas had turned to look at him, aviator shades reflecting the sky, that unfairly charming smile lighting up his face.
That's for me, Dean always thinks, that amazing smile is for me. Often, he has to remind himself a few times, retraining a mind too used to heartbreak and scarcity.
That is for me. Castiel smiles for me.
Sometimes, they take Cas' pickup, loaded with beer and snacks and blankets, and they drive all the way to the coast. They visit beaches and state parks, drive through towns surrounded by mountains, and put regional fast food joints to the test. They stroll through markets and thrift stores holding hands, because nobody really minds it on the West side. Instead of getting a hotel, they park somewhere far off and quiet, and they curl up in the flatbed to watch the stars until Dean dozes off.
Perhaps they'll never be able to make up for all the times they didn't do this, but Dean is damned if he's not gonna give it all he's got. Perhaps he'll never quite be able to put into words how much more worthwhile life is now, but Dean is trying. He's trying with actions, because he's just better at that. Because he can trust Cas to understand, and that's a rare thing. Rare, but not unattainable. No matter how assuredly Dean used to believe it was.
Perhaps he's been wrong about a few things, but for once, Dean is okay with that.
Perhaps he's not cursed, not doomed to ruin every good thing that comes his way. Castiel has been the exception to all the other rules, so why not that one?
"Hey Cas?" Dean asks one chilly autumn night as they're snuggled into the sofa, safe and warm in a heap of blankets.
"Hm?" Cas sounds about as sleepy as a creature who doesn't sleep can get.
Dean keeps his eyes on the TV screen, watching the soothingly slow credit roll of some cheesy movie he fell asleep to.
"Why'd you keep all the notes I've left you?" He thinks he knows why. It's just hard to believe it if you haven't heard it from the horse's mouth.
Cas doesn't answer for a moment. Then he ruffles Dean's hair and says, "because you wrote them. And I love you, you dumbass."
Dean smiles and nestles closer. He knew that was the answer, but it feels so good to hear it. Cas is clearly amused, but the comforting sincerity in his voice wasn't lost.
"Y'know that's kinda creepy, right?" Dean teases.
"Oh?" Cas replies, and Dean can almost hear his eyebrows lifting. "Says he who was snooping around in my room?"
"God dammit."
"Yeah. Yeah, Dean, I went there. Who's the creep now?"
Dean is laughing. He does that a lot more these days. "Okay," he says, "you got me there. You got me."
"I truly did," Cas agrees with mock solemnity.
"Fine. You did. But you know why I was in there?"
"Do tell."
Dean twists around to look at Cas, to watch those blue eyes sparkle with mirth, and he says, "because I love you. Dumbass."