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This time, when Cas sets foot on Earth again, he’s not alone.
He’s bringing an entire army with him.
Dormant for so long, they’re full of pent up grief for things unfinished. Guilt and rage and hope all at once thrum through their veins, chasing away the icy water that had them frozen for so long. Mangled by the poisonous fangs of Free Will, they are forever corrupted. They are delinquents, deficient specimens of their race.
They are legend.
The opposing forces never stood a chance.
***
In the aftermath, there’s a sense of uncertainty.
Different as they are from how they were originally programmed, this longing for a purpose, for someone to lead them never quite goes away, Cas has found.
Maybe there’s such a thing as the calm after the storm.
With angels like Gabriel in their midst, however, it doesn’t stay calm for too long. Soon enough, 80s music is blasting from some unidentifiable source and the few of the more boisterous among their ragtag garrison are dancing over the ashes of their vanquished enemies.
Castiel scrunches up his face in distaste. It’s all very–
“Crude,” someone beside him gives voice to Castiel’s thoughts. In contrast to Castiel, however, a shark-like grin is gracing Uriel’s face. “I like it.”
“Of course you would,” Castiel retorts dryly. His brother’s questionable sources of pleasure do not worry him, though. Not at the moment, when his mind is whirling, aiming towards a plan that may save the world while his Brothers are having a party .
“Irresponsible,” is Hannah’s judgment, and Castiel nods in agreement.
“Guys,” he says, raising his Voice into a higher frequency for all his brethren to hear. “We don’t have time for this.”
All he gets for his trouble is a handful of confetti to his face. “Aw, lighten up, Columbo, we’re just recuperating.” Suddenly, Gabriel is behind him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “You know what fun is, do you? F-U-N. Look it up, it’d do you some good.”
“I’m sure he knows. Grapevine says it’s what brought him to the Empty after all, right, Cassie?” Balthazar’s tone is light but his eyes reverberate the ache in Cas’ chest at the memory of their shredded bond, and Castiel wants to reach out, to make amends, but it’s not the time.
“Oooohh!” Gabriel singsongs in delight. “Don’t tell me, I wanna guess! You rode a rollercoaster! You went to Disneyland!”
Castiel rolls his eyes, but that can’t stop his cheeks from heating up and unfortunately, it’s not something Gabriel misses. His eyes go wide and he waves a finger in Cas’ direction almost like in accusation. “Oh oh no! Tell me you didn’t! Did our dear little Cassie finally get his cherry popped by our good ol’ reliable righteous man?”
At that, somehow, the whole room is rendered silent as though everyone is holding their collective breath.
Cas rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “Ridiculous,” is all he says.
Balthazar snorts. “Of course not, our Cassie is more precious than this. A warm hug and a sappy smile is all he needs to reach Nirvana.”
“Did he read poetry to you?”
“No, there must’ve been a kiss at least !”
“A romantic candle-light dinner!”
“Samandriel, you fucking sap.”
“He took you dancing.”
“If you didn’t at least see him like Dad created him I’m gonna have to slap you, Cassie!”
Castiel takes a deep breath, and exhales. Tries not to murder his lovely brethren again because that would be really rude as well as counterproductive to their mission. “I think if we all just work together again–”
Gabriel’s laugh interrupts him. “Oh no no no, you’re not getting off this hook so easily!”
But it’s Anna who saves him. Strong, clever, lovely Anna who steers him away from the crowd of atrocious angels and sits him down at a table. “Give him a break.”
Finally, Cas gets to breathe. “Thank you, Anna.”
In answer, she just shoves a plate with a slice of chocolate cake towards him. “Try some.”
When Cas just eyes the plate in suspicion, she rolls her eyes. “Come on, Cassie, we’ve just returned from the dead, let’s enjoy the perks of human life for a little while, hm?” Anna says, miracling herself her own slice of chocolate cake.
“ Cassie ?” No one but Balthazar has ever called him that, at least not in that same fond tone Anna's applying. He looks over to where his estranged brother is twirling a glass of wine in his hands and indulges the twinge of pain from the unresolved conflict between them. Maybe, someday, they’ll get to repair that relationship.
Beside him, Anna shrugs happily. “Just trying it out, little brother.”
“Little brother,” Cas says, deadpan and Anna lets out a laugh that works to soothe the ache in Castiel’s heart.
“Come on, Cas,” she says, mirth in her eyes as she elbows him gently in the side. “Live a little.” And with that, she shoves his plate with chocolate cake closer towards him.
Castiel sighs out an exasperation he doesn’t really feel and lifts a forkful of cake to his mouth. His eyes close at the rich taste. When he opens them again, Anna is watching him with a smirk on her face.
“That good, huh,” she says knowingly. Then her gaze shifts to somewhere over his shoulder, settles on something that makes her smile meaningfully. “You know what’s good too?”
Cas raises an eyebrow at her. Before he can ask, she’s grabbed his chin and turned his head slightly to the right and–
The breath’s punched out of his lungs.
Technically, he doesn’t need to breathe, but basic human necessities like that have woven themselves into his own fabric of natural instincts long ago.
Through the whirlwind in his mind, he doesn’t even bother to ask himself how Dean made it here.
He knew, logically, that he’d cross paths with Dean again, that he’d have to confront whatever his deathbed confession had rendered their relationship. He knows, as well, that he’d rather be by Dean’s side as his friend, his confidante, than be nothing at all to him because he’s been parted from Dean before and he knows how it feels and he’d rather tether himself to a man who has his heart but knows not what to do with it than be set adrift. He’d rather live in his periphery than just watch from behind glass because Cas has grown fond of living amongst humans too much to be satisfied with just watching anymore. He wants to touch, to feel, to experience, even if it’s just through friendly taps on the shoulder, through long rides in the backseat of a black car.
And yet…
And yet looking Dean in the eyes right now feels impossible to bear.
Subconsciously, he bites his bottom lip, gives Anna a helpless smile, and then does it anyway.
Dean’s spotted him already when Cas walks up to him, and he’s watching him approach with an unreadable expression on his face. His feet seem glued to the spot.
“Hello, Dean,” says Cas. He knows not how to say anything else.
Dean swallows audibly. The rest of the room has grown suspiciously silent, no more background music there to try and drown out anyone’s internal emotional panic, and Castiel spares a moment to throw a reproachful look to Gabriel for that.
Dean doesn’t seem to notice any of that, though. He looks at Cas like he’s trying to drink in his sight, and the corner of his mouth ticks up when a choked-off laugh leaves his lungs and he says back, “Hey.” His right hand twitches as though to reach out before it thinks better of it. “Good to see you.”
Castiel lifts his own lips in a smile that probably looks constrained. “Yes. Uh-” He opens his mouth, closes it again. “It’s good to see you too. Is Sam-”
“Alive and kicking,” Dean bops his head up and down excitedly. “Probably kissing Eileen right now if he knows what’s good for him.”
The smile that crosses Cas’ face is genuine this time. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, good,” agrees Dean. “All good. Fantastic, actually.”
“Hmm.”
Somewhere, in the background, someone groans exaggeratedly.
Cas has half a mind to throttle Gabriel right here and now, archangel powers be damned.
“Listen, uhm,” Dean starts, running a hand through his hair in a move that – can it be he’s nervous? “Can we, heh. Move this somewhere else?” He throws a pointed look around the room full of heavenly voyeurs.
Holding back a sigh, Cas nods his assent and Dean perks up. “Great!” He waves a careless greeting in the vague direction of the other angels as he grabs Cas hand to drag him out the door. “Good to see y’all. Happy resurrection! Not to the dick angels, you know who you are. Oh hey, looking good, Anna! Seeya ‘round!”
Shutting the door behind them with finality, Dean turns around. He’s slapped on a grin that seems frozen around the edges and it’s another sign of Dean’s nervosity that Castiel can’t quite comprehend.
They speak at the same time.
“Dean, I-”
“Cas, look it’s-”
They both let out identical nervous laughs.
Cas recovers first. “Dean, you don’t have to– We don’t have to talk about it,” he says. Begs, really. “We made this world a better place and to be still around to witness it, that’s–” His voice breaks. He hopes Dean doesn’t hear. “That’s all I can ask.”
He’s made peace with it. He doesn’t think he can stomach hearing the rejection out of Dean’s own mouth.
When he lifts his eyes to meet Dean’s again, there’s yet another unreadable expression on Dean’s face, and it nags at him that he can’t decipher this unspoken language broadcasted by the man he knows best in the world. Dean’s looking at him like… like he doesn’t understand him either.
The opening chords of Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love save Cas momentarily. At least that’s what he expects, but then Dean fishes his phone out of his jeans pocket, lifts it in the air for Cas to see and presses the decline button.
“See, that’s the thing,” Dean begins as he shoves the phone unceremoniously back into his pocket. And then he surges forward in a movement not even Cas could’ve predicted and his hands lock on either side of Cas’ shoulders, effectively trapping him.
Heat rises up Cas’ neck, and his eyes try to evade Dean’s gaze but it’s unrelenting, fixing him in place. “You can ask for more.”
A plea dies in Cas’ throat and he wishes cosmic entities would make deals in which the ground may swallow up a desperate angel who’s experiencing the most mortifying moment of his eternal life.
But alas. The ground is still a supporting surface beneath his feet and Dean is still right in his face.
“ Please ,” he gasps out, and he would not beg in the face of Raphael’s wrath, under Naomi’s meddling hands or Lucifer’s taunting but he begs now.
Dean blinks at him, but he does not retreat. “Please what?”
Cas’ shoulders sag under the weight of the moment. “Please don’t–” he shakes his head.
Please don’t make me say it again because I can pretend everything between us can be like it once was but I cannot deny my feelings because they’re the truest, most precious thing about me and please don’t push me away because of them .
These are the things he wants to ask.
These are the things he does not ask.
Allowing his gaze to slip away from Dean’s face, he says. “You already know. What else do you want to take from me?”
The narrowing of Dean’s eyes, he expected. But not his hands tightening around Cas’ arms, or the little shake they give Cas and the fact that Dean still won’t release him. He thought him a more merciful man.
“What do I want to take?” Dean growls, actually growls to the point that Cas has to look up– “I want to take everything from you.”
Cas’ eyebrows draw together in a frown and he opens his mouth to say something eloquent like what the hell , but all the words in his throat and in his mind and in his heart are swallowed up by Dean’s mouth that crashes into his.
His lips are rough and his hands are gripping him so tightly it’d be bruising on an average human being but when he parts Cas’ lips with his, it’s gentle and his nose is digging into Cas’ cheek in a way that’s almost desperate and all Cas can do is stand there, stockstill.
When Dean pulls back, he’s the one who can’t look Cas in the eye.
This time, it’s a whisper: “I want everything you have to give me.”
He licks his lips and considering they’ve been on Cas’ a second earlier, Cas’ gaze drops to track the movement. It’s an instinctive reaction that evades Cas’ control so completely, he hates himself a little for it.
He commanded armies. He has the history of the Earth ingrained in his very being.
Yet he’s a fool for this beautiful, broken man and always will be.
Closing his eyes, he gathers enough tendrils of his courage to say, “You don’t have to pretend for my sake.”
Dean blinks at him again in confusion before letting out a growl of frustration. “You really can be a dumbass sometimes, you know that?” he says.
And then, before Cas can beginn to process this, Dean lets go of his arms to give him a firm shove in the chest. “You asshole! You don’t get to spill all your stupid feelings to me and then fuck off to– to– You don’t get to do this and leave me behind and then tell me how I should feel about that! I don’t have to pretend? Well, that’s great, Cas, because I was never good at following the script and if I want you to fucking kiss me back like you mean it then it’s none of anybody’s business to tell me I shouldn’t. Want that, I mean.”
Run out of steam, Dean’s eyes flit back and forth as though in sudden embarrassment.
Cas wants to step back into Dean’s orbit but he’s frozen on the spot. “You–” he starts. Tries again. “You want that?”
Dean barks a laugh. “Gotta tell ya, buddy. For all that you’re supposed to be this perfect heavenly choir boy, you don’t let yourself believe in a whole lot, do you?”
His beliefs have changed considerably since he met this man, but if there’s one thing he would never have dreamed of believing, it’s this.
“I’m not perfect.” It’s not even the first thing on the list of things he wants to say but the part of his Self that has reasonable thoughts and acts on them he seemingly left behind in the Empty.
But it brings a smile to Dean’s face and he calls that a win in itself. “No, I know you’re not.” He bridges the gap between them again to drag the back of his hand over Cas’ cheek. “That’s kinda what I love about you.”
What’s left of Cas’ brain short-circuits. “Love?”
“Part of it,” Dean agrees. “I didn’t exactly have time to make a list or the guts to actually say it out loud but uhm. Yeah.” His shoulders lift in a helpless shrug like what can you do and it’s only then that Cas notices the redness rising to Dean’s own cheeks. For all his bravado, Dean’s actually… what? Scared of rejection? After all the ways in which Cas has laid bare his heart for him?
The thought is so absurd, so ridiculous , it startles a choked laugh out of Cas.
When Dean looks up at him, a frown painting his expression one of confusion, Cas’ hand finds its spot on Dean’s right shoulder and he squeezes once. “Then take it.”
Dean’s always been better with actions rather than words. That’s why it’s easy, so easy for his hands to come cradling the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he dips Cas and gives him the hell of a kiss he deserves.
This time, Cas gives back as good as he gets. His hands travel from Dean’s shoulders over his back up to play with the hair in his nape while his lips move against Dean’s in desperate frenzy and he’s glad Dean’s holding him up because phenomenal cosmic strength or not, his knees can and will give way under the weight of finally getting what he’s wanted for so long.
He doesn’t notice the tear running down his cheek until Dean wipes it away with a calloused finger. Cas takes that same hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles, still swollen from whatever recent physical fight he had and Cas will ask about that. Later. But right now he just sends a spurt of Grace through the hand and savours the shudder that sends through Dean as well as the shy smile that paints Dean’s face even redder.
He has the gall to be shy now, Cas thinks fondly. As though Dean isn’t the one who just kissed him into oblivion.
“So, that was-” Dean laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“New,” Cas finishes for him.
“Tell me ‘bout it.”
“Dean, do me one favor.”
Dean looks at him seriously. “Anything.”
“Don’t call me buddy.”
At that, Dean barks a laugh. “No can do, buddy, it’s an earned title.” The fact that Dean presses another quick kiss to Cas’ lips smoothens the frown of discontent on Cas’ face, however. As does the way Dean’s arm drapes over his shoulder, pressing him against his side as he moves them towards the general direction of the door. “You ready for a ride home?”
Smiling up at Dean, Cas nods. “Just let me say goodbye to the others.”
Dean’s mouth twists into something ungenerous but all he says is, “Fine.”
Cas nudges him. “They’re the good ones.”
“Sure,” Dean says, not very convincing. At Cas’ pointed look he relents, “I guess Anna’s okay. And that customer service angel. Alfie.”
“Samandriel,” Cas corrects. Dean doesn’t let go of Cas even as they step through the door.
Everyone’s eyes are on them.
Dean and Cas stop right in the doorframe, staring back at the group of angels who are taking a break in their endeavour to get royally drunk to shoot them expectant and judging looks respectively.
“You know we could hear everything,” Rachel breaks the awkward silence and gestures to her ear. “Angel hearing.”
Castiel cants his head in a clear show of I could care less and moves away from Dean’s embrace to quickly hug goodbye the few angels he’s still closest to. Then he retrieves his place by Dean’s side.
“Right,” Dean says. “Gonna kidnap everyone’s favorite angel now, don’t mind me.”
And he enfolds Cas’ hand in his and pulls him back through the door.
In a show of how classy his delinquent band of brethren really is, the sound of wolf whistles follows them outside.