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It wasn’t a party that was happening in the bunker, so much as it was a gathering of rowdy, delighted hunters that had gotten more than a little out of hand. They all deserved it, though. They’d defeated Michael. The single thing that these people had fought for, the focus of their entire existence since the archangel had burst out of Heaven and rained righteous fire down upon them, back in their own world, had now been achieved. Michael was dead.
Gone, too, was the Shadow. Though Cas wasn’t entirely convinced that such a creature could ever truly be killed, much like Death, or Fate, this version of him—the one who had held Cas’s own happiness so cruelly hostage—was gone.
Cas stood near the telescope alcove at one end of the bunker, surveying the rooms with a stoic, studious gaze that many people would have mistaken for disinterest or aloofness. But not everyone.
Hey, Cas. Hope this is getting through, came Dean’s quiet, nervous prayer. I’m sure you’re a bit uncomfortable right now, with all this going on. Same, buddy, really. Not really keen on a full house and all that. I still don’t know most of these peoples freakin’ names, even. Sam’s doin’ well though, huh?
Cas blinked in surprise. Dean didn’t often pray to him so… casually.
Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You could probably just slip away if you’re not feeling it. I’d cover for you.
Cas couldn’t help a tiny, smiling twitch that curled at the corner of his lip. Typical. Dean always put others before himself…it sounded more like Dean was the one who wanted to leave. Unfortunately, prayer was a one-way channel, and he couldn’t suggest that.
He looked around slowly, trying to spot the hunter among the moving bodies. The visitors from the other world, his bunker family, Jody and the girls, their hunting friends from this world… they were all here. Everyone had descended on the bunker at once. Not an organized celebration by any means, but it had just felt like the place to be, for many, once Michael and the Shadow had been dealt with.
Dean was nowhere to be seen.
Cas saw Sam near the table in the war room, talking to two of the bulky, rugged men that had come over with Bobby from the apocalypse world. He was laughing, a little tired looking and with some stubble on his chin, but relaxed. Cas secretly thought that he should grow his beard back in.
He spotted Jack in a corner with Claire and Patience. Claire was explaining something to him, using her hands, and Patience’s eyes were wide. Jack just looked confused.
But no Dean.
Looking for me? There was definitely a teasing edge to Dean’s words in Cas’s head.
Cas smiled a little more, not caring that he might look a little odd to anyone who looked over. The rumpled angel, smiling distantly to himself near the alcove. He took a few steps forward, looking around more actively and beginning to move through the rooms.
You know you’re allowed to smile now, right? Dean said again, more softly, more seriously. He’s gone. You’re allowed to be happy now, whatever that means for you.
I’m glad you can be happy, Cas. I hope you will be.
Cas frowned, pausing in his steps.
He could see Jody, a beer bottle in hand, her eyes watching Alex protectively as the young woman chatted with one of the hunters that had fought with Charlie. Dean wasn’t with her. Somebody jostled past Cas’s back, laughing loudly, jolting him out of his quiet observation with loud words.
The smell of beer grew stronger, the music in the background was cranked up a little—someone was playing some classic rock tunes, behind the hubbub of voices.
Suddenly, Cas just longed to be near Dean. He always wanted that, of course, but Dean’s presence was grounding, to Cas. He didn’t fit here, alone. With Dean, this all made sense. Alone, he had no place in this room.
Hey, Dean’s voice came again, with more concern. What’s wrong, buddy?
I miss you, Cas realized. I spoke to you barely an hour ago, but I miss you. That was what was wrong. Not that he’d voice such a sentiment, of course. But over the past year or so…something had been different. Something had been growing and changing between him and Dean, perhaps even before that, perhaps even since he’d come back from the Empty. Something that had always been there, but that now, with their problems so big and grand and beyond even them… just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.
Michael’s gone, Cas. It sounded almost as if Dean was talking to himself. Making a speech. Working up to something. You’re free from the Empty, again. I’m not threatened by Michael anymore. Not just someone’s meat suit, anymore.
You always thought I was more than that.
Cas moved through the crowd again, quicker, searching. Dean’s words were astute, correct, but certainly not something Cas expected Dean to acknowledge.
Mary Winchester gave him a brief smile as he passed her, before turning back to chat with Bobby, leaving him on his urgent path to…somewhere. Where was Dean? Somewhere he could see every movement and expression Cas made, obviously.
We’re free.
Cas spun on his heel, a small frown beginning to pull the tan skin at his brow into a knot.
And now we’re free, I just… we should be honest. Right?
Charlie. Rowena. Even Ketch was in the room. But no Dean.
I just…
Cas’s heart was thumping in his chest, though he wasn’t even sure why. All he could think was Dean, Dean, Dean. He had to find Dean. Perhaps he’d missed him, somewhere back by Sam—
I love you, Cas.
Cas froze. His heart had apparently jumped out of his chest now and sat somewhere at the back of his tongue. He noted the strange phenomena, but distantly, as if it was occurring to somebody else.
You’re… Cas. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, part-time hunter and full-time badass. You’re a freakin’ celestial wavelength or whatever, and you deserve so much more than whatever I could give you. But I’m in love with you, all the same.
He couldn’t move. It was like Dean was spying on him from somewhere that gave him a full perspective of the whole room, like—
You know I’d struggle to say it, Cas. It’s hard enough to even think it. But you deserve… I mean, what if that actually would make you happy? It’s crazy, but what if there’s a tiny chance you…
Like he was looking down on the room from above.
Cas looked up.
Leaning on the metal railing that ran along the landing overhead, right in front of the passageway to the bunker’s front door, Dean stood looking down at Cas.
Their eyes locked, wide green and blue suddenly faced with a reality that had now been all but spoken. Dean held two glasses of whiskey, Cas noted. He struggled to move, willing his feet to head toward the stairs and up to where Dean stood, but somehow—after a fairly sketchy minute where he seemed to have lost control of his vessel’s limbs entirely—Cas persuaded his legs to take the steps.
They didn’t look away from each other as Cas climbed, as much fear, shock, and amazement plastered across one of them as the other.
Part of Cas wanted to rush to Dean. Wanted to press him back against the railing and use his tongue to force the words from Dean’s mouth, pulling out of him what he’d only been brave enough for in prayer.
The other part of Cas wanted to disappear and melt back into the crowd.
But he was here now, only a step away from the hunter.
“Hello, Dean,” he said quietly.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean replied, their quiet pocket of solitude on the balcony briefly broken by a loud whoop from below that pulled Dean’s green eyes down to the war room for just a second.
It was enough to break the strange apprehension between them.
Both of Dean’s hands were occupied, a whiskey glass in each. He reached out, offering one to Cas. Instead, Cas took advantage of Dean’s inability to push him away and stepped up into Dean’s space. Close, close.
Ever the tactician.
Personal space, Cas, came Dean’s teasing thought. A shy blush burnt up across Dean’s cheeks, deepening in color the longer Cas didn’t say anything.
“Dean,” Cas breathed out, barely an inch between them. He couldn’t help but drop his eyes down to Dean’s lips, counting the shallow, nervous breaths that parted them. One, two, three—
The world changed as he tipped into Dean’s space, grazing their lips together, barely.
Slowly, Cas drew his gaze up to Dean’s eyes. They stood still, Dean with his back to the railing now, one occupied hand either side of Cas as the angel leaned into him. One of Cas’s arms came up on each side of Dean’s waist and he grabbed onto the metal handrail, effectively boxing Dean in.
“Cas,” Dean said. It was a sentence on his own, and he gulped once he’d forced it out, his Adam's apple bobbing. “I…” he tried.
Cas nodded slowly, before tilting his head back in. He joined them together in a kiss once again, more deeply this time. Dean’s lips were moist and warm, wet in anticipation. He tasted of mint and whiskey. Cas felt his heart soar as Dean’s eyelids fluttered closed, and he returned the kiss with just as much, if not more, eagerness than Cas brought to it.
When Cas pulled back, Dean’s eyes remained closed and he leaned forward, chasing the touch across the space between them. When he finally opened them, he looked dazed, drugged, delighted. He looked over at Cas like he was a dream come alive.
“You would, indeed, make me truly happy,” Cas said softly, finally releasing Dean by dropping his hands from the railing. He reached for one of the glasses, taking it from Dean and being rewarded by Dean’s now-free hand immediately coming to his hip, pulling him to close the gap between them.
They were lost again, in the new world they had just made. The slide of lips, the stuttering of breaths, the beating of hearts.
“I love you,” Dean finally managed out loud, his hot breath hitting Cas’s kiss-slicked lower lip.
“So I heard,” Cas said, smirking despite himself. “You think you’re smart, huh, telling me when I couldn’t respond, judging my reaction before I could even see you.”
Dean grinned. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? I told you.”
Cas laughed, low and throaty, and the rumble in his chest reverberated between them. “Yes, it worked. Any way that you’d chosen to tell me would have worked, Dean. I’ve always loved you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
Dean ducked his head, awkward and shy in a way Cas had never really seen him. He didn’t answer; instead, he looped his arm around Cas’s shoulders, pulling him in to his side. Dean pressed a kiss, more familiar now, to Cas’s cheek, and they turned as one. They leaned forward onto the railing and looked down over the buzzing group of people below, whiskeys in hand.
Sam laughed, clapping Bobby on the shoulder. Jack talked animatedly to a skeptical-looking Mary.
Dean and Cas had come together, now more than the sum of their parts. But down in the bunker everyone carried on, their world unchanged, no clue as to the momentous thing they had missed.