Work Text:
UNICORN SIGHTED IN WOODS NEAR PONTIAC
The headline is enough to make Dean snort into his coffee, but the story turns his sarcastic smile into a frown. The paper cites twenty-three eye witnesses reporting seeing a unicorn either in their backyards or in the woods near their homes, and not all of them are little girls. The parents of a ten-year-old claim to have seen it, as do a 70-year-old farmer and two police officers. The cops are what interest Dean. Going public with a claim that they've seen a unicorn sounds like career suicide. They have to be getting some pretty serious ribbing from their coworkers right about now. Why would anyone do that to himself if the story weren't true?
He reads the article again, and then a third time, sighs. Rubs his face with his hands, trying to wipe away the world-weary tiredness that has been weighing on him ever since his dad died. Maybe he could use a light case for a change. He doubts this story will have any truth behind it—no hunter he's ever met has claimed to have seen an actual unicorn before—but he has nothing else on his plate at the moment, and he's only two states away, so why not?
He finishes the dregs of his coffee, drops a few bills on the counter to cover it all, and heads out with a wave to the little old lady who served him. Five minutes later, he and Baby are headed to Illinois.
-
Eight little girls down and all have told him the same thing. They spotted the unicorn walking through their backyards around one or two in the morning. It was white with an electric blue mane and tail and a horn that twisted around like a corkscrew and looked "shimmery". Two of the little girls said they ran outside to get a better look, and the unicorn let them pet it. One girl said she touched its horn and it gave her a "tingle", like being tickled. There were no markings on her hand and no reported side-effects. In fact, so far no one has reported that the unicorn was violent or harmful in any way. It just seemed to be taking a midnight stroll every few days.
Dean is beyond confused. All the children he's spoken to so far have been insistent that what they saw was a unicorn. Dean doesn't know what to think. He decides to interview the farmer next, just to get an adult perspective. The farm is out west of town, not hard to find with the help of a gas station attendant. Dean has to walk around the farm for ten minutes before he finds the old man mucking out a chicken coop on the back side of the barn. He's Dean's height, scrawny but Dean doubts a lifetime working a farm has made him weak. Dean watches him work for a few minutes without announcing his presence. Eventually, the old man grunts out, "You gonna stand there watchin' me all day?" He looks up at Dean with a hard stare that sets Dean's shoulders straighter.
"No, sir, just waiting for a good time to interrupt. I'm a reporter from the Chicago Sun, doing a story about the local unicorn sightings. I heard you might have seen it?"
The old man—Frenchie, the gas station attendant called him—frowns and straightens, wiping his brow with a dirty handkerchief and muttering something about 'damn reporters' that Dean doesn't quite catch. "Yeah, I saw it. I was going out to the barn to check on Ginger's new calf around midnight. Saw it running across my field."
"Running? So you didn't get a good look at it?"
Frenchie glares. "I got a good look. It stopped running when it saw me and came over. Almost like it was curious what I was doin'."
"And can you describe the animal for me, please?"
"It was a unicorn."
Dean rubs the skin between his eyebrows, offering a forced smile. "What did it look like?"
"Like a white horse." He pauses, eyeing Dean as though he'd rather not say the next part. "Except he had an honest-to-God blue mane and tail. Never saw nothin' like it outside of that Wizard of Oz movie."
"And… it had a horn?" Dean writes in his notebook as he asks, trying to get as many details as he can. The blue hair is consistent with what the girls had said.
"Oh yeah, 'bout two feet long. It was spiral-like and looked like it was made out of mother of pearl."
"Mother of pearl?"
"Looked like my wife's pearl necklace."
Dean nods, jots it down. That would explain the 'shimmer' the girls reported. He pauses, thinks over what he just thought. Fuck, is he really starting to believe all this? Unicorns? Really? He shuts his eyes briefly to quell his headache and takes a deep breath. "Just to cover my bases, you weren't maybe… drinking at the time you saw this unicorn? Had a few with dinner, maybe?"
The farmer scowls and squares his shoulders in a move Dean recognizes as being cut off. He could apologize, but he knows he won't be getting anything more from this guy. "Sorry, had to ask. Thanks for your time," he says, tucking his notebook back into his suit jacket pocket and turning to go.
The trudge back to the car is made all the more unpleasant by the discovery that he stepped in some sort of shit while walking around. He tries to wipe the mess off on the grass as he walks, but ends up stumbling instead and smearing some onto his pant leg. Frustrated and feeling dirty, he decides to stop by the motel room for a shower and a change of clothes. Playing a reporter means he doesn't really need to be in a suit anyway. When he gets to the car, he carefully takes his shoes off before getting in and puts them in a food bag he forgot to throw away the day before. The only thing that could make this day worse would be cow shit on Baby's floor mats.
-
On his way to get lunch, Dean decides to stop by the wooded area some of the girls said they'd seen the unicorn in and have a look around. While it isn't a large area, it is densely populated by trees and a thick layer of decomposing leaves and brush. Dean is thankful he changed to his work boots as he trudges through the underbrush, looking for signs of a horse.
It doesn't take him long to find a hoof print, then a few more. They must have been made in fresh mud because they are distinct, shaped almost like Pacman. Definitely a horse. Dean takes a picture of them, stops when he sees a flash of blue. He crouches down to get a better look and finds a few strands of electric blue hair. He picks the hair up, putting it close to his face to try and make out what it is. They could be from a doll, but the tiny root at the end of one of them makes him think they aren't.
"Motherfucker…" he mutters, wrapping the hairs around his hand and depositing them in a pocket of his jeans. This job could not get any weirder.
He looks around for another few minutes, but doesn't find anything else. By now, his stomach is yelling abuse, and he decides to give it a rest. Maybe a sit-down meal will help him think. He finds the nearest cafe that looks like it might have pie and grabs a table in the back. He is just looking over the menu, pleased to see that they do indeed have pie, when his thoughts are interrupted by a deep voice dripping in honey.
"Hello, my name is Castiel. Have you decided on anything yet?"
Dean looks up at the person standing next to his table and is met by a smoking hot dude in a pink frilly apron and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing tanned, toned forearms. His eyes are very, very blue, crinkled at the edges when he flashes his blinding smile. Dean loses his train of thought for the moment and has to clear his throat to get it back. The waiter—did he say his name was Castiel?—waits for him to recover, holding his notepad in a loose, comfortable grip.
"I uh… yeah, sorry, wasn't expecting such a good-looking waiter. I'll have a club sandwich, extra meat, a cup of coffee, and whatever pie you think tastes best." He winks, a little thrill going through him at the blush that blooms across Castiel's cheeks. Castiel darts his eyes down to write the order out, glancing up at Dean through his lashes every few seconds. Dean can't take his eyes off him. His dark hair is just long enough to run fingers through it and looks like it hasn't seen a comb since it was last washed. Dean thinks it might smell like apples or cinnamon or maybe both. His fingers twitch on the menu thinking about touching it.
"I'll just… put your order through, then. I'll uh… be back with your coffee in a minute." His cheeks are bubblegum pink as he steps away and hurry-walks behind the counter. Dean takes the time to check out his backside and is pleased with what he sees. When Castiel looks back over his shoulder at him, Dean licks his lips and gives him an appreciative once-over and has to hold back a laugh when Castiel stumbles into a counter.
Dean hums to himself, holding back a grin as he tucks the menu away behind a napkin holder. He takes the time waiting for hot waiter to come back to look the place over. It's the kind of place Sammy would like, the hippie freak that he is. They probably have vegan cupcakes or some stupid shit like that. But then Castiel is coming over with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile that's all for him, and he suddenly wouldn't care if there were fruitarians dancing naked on the tables. The coffee gets set at his elbow, along with a little saucer with cream and a real, honest-to-god sugar bowl. Complete with tiny spoon. "Your sandwich will be out in a minute…?"
"Dean," Dean answers without hesitation, forgetting all about the fake name he gave some of the kids while interviewing them.
"Dean. I like that name. Simple, strong. It suits you."
"You callin' me simple, sweetheart?" Dean teases, grinning when the blush returns.
"Oh no, I just meant…" He fumbles, sees the look on Dean's face and relaxes.
Dean lets out a laugh. "You're even hotter when you blush."
Castiel looks away, turning even pinker, fiddling with his apron. "Thank you. I should… maybe… check on my other tables. I uh… I'll be back with your sandwich shortly."
"Can't wait."
Castiel turns and asks how the table behind him is doing, but there's a little stutter in his voice and he glances up at Dean as they answer, almost as if to see if Dean's still watching. Dean couldn't look away if he wanted to. Castiel flits from table to table, refilling coffee and chatting with the customers. The more Dean watches, the more he sees that he is not the only one affected by Castiel's charm. Half his customers look at him like he is the greatest thing walking. One customer even lets him hold her baby, bouncing him on his hip and cooing at him while the baby squeals in delight. He glances up at Dean as he sets the baby back in his carrier, and Dean waves over his coffee. The pink blooms on his cheeks again, and he disappears behind the counter in short order.
When he brings Dean his sandwich, it's heaped high with beef slices and all the trimmings. "Here you are. I had the cook add a double portion of beef for you."
Dean looks down at the sandwich and up at Castiel. "You're awesome. This is perfect. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Is there anything else I can get you?"
Dean wants to ask for his number, but he can see a woman behind Castiel craning her neck to see when he'll be free to help her and decides to wait. "Nah, I'm good. Go help that lady over there before she falls out of her chair." He indicates with his head, and Castiel turns, making a surprised noise that is completely adorable and rushing over to her. Dean waits until he glances up to send him a smile before turning his attention to the beautiful homage to deli meat sitting in front of him. The noise he makes when he takes the first bite earns him looks from half the tables near him. He catches Castiel side-eye him with a quirked mouth and pink cheeks as he walks by.
Twenty minutes later, Castiel sweeps in with a warm slice of pecan pie and a can of whip cream. "Topping?"
Dean just stares at the pie for a second, unable to process the perfection of what he's looking at. "Dude. Marry me," he says, half-serious because there is no way this guy could know what his favorite kind of pie is, but it looks fucking beautiful and it smells like his mom's kitchen, and if he doesn't get this dude's number before he leaves the cafe, he's gonna tear some shit up.
Castiel makes a ‘tch’ noise and takes his empty sandwich plate. "I made a good choice, then?"
"You made the best fucking choice. Thank you. Yes, whip cream would be awesome."
"I'm glad you like it," Castiel says, voice soft and a pleased little smile lighting up his face. He shakes the can and squirts a perfect swirl of whip cream atop the pie. Dean spins the plate around, appreciating the aesthetic.
"That is one perfect piece of pie."
"Thank you. I hope the taste lives up to the appearance."
Dean doesn't waste another moment finding out. He cuts into the corner with a fork and shoves the piece in his mouth. It explodes with flavor, brown sugar and butter and the crunch of the pecan. It's the closest he's ever come to tasting his mom's recipe. Castiel's eyes are hooded when Dean looks back at him, his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth. Dean raises his eyebrows, grinning. "This is the best pecan pie I've had in a long time."
"I'm glad you enjoy it. I can give you the recipe if you like. Or you could just keep getting it here."
Dean is too caught on the first part to hear the second. "Are you telling me you made this?"
"Yes?"
"You. Not some cook in the back. You?"
"Yes? I find baking to be a soothing pastime."
"Can I box you up and take you with me?"
Castiel's cheeks pink again and he bats his eyelashes, looking away towards the register. "I'll let you enjoy the rest of your pie." He wanders away to greet a new family of five in a booth a little further away. Dean does his best to take the pie slowly, enjoy it, but it's so good he can barely stop himself from wolfing it down in three bites.
When Castiel drops the bill off for him a minute later, his name and phone number are written at the bottom in swirling, perfect cursive. Dean leaves the cafe grinning like an idiot.
-
Dean doesn't go on many real dates, but taking Cas to dinner is way less awkward than he thought it would be. They go to a dive bar because Cas likes burgers as much as Dean does and teaching Cas how to play pool is the perfect opportunity to press up against him and whisper in his ear. When Cas beats him for the third time, Dean leans into his side and asks, "You wanna get out of here?"
"Take me home?" Cas asks, reaching out to play with the hem of Dean's plaid overshirt.
A fissure of heat travels up Dean's spine. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea."
Cas smiles, slides away from Dean to put their cues away. Dean settles up their bar tab and meets Cas at the door, swinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. When Dean opens the door of the Impala for him, Cas turns under his arm and kisses his cheek, gaze warm and soft and happy. Dean wants to scoop him up and ravage him right there in the parking lot, but he resists the urge. Cas is a class act. He deserves better than a back seat in a busy parking lot. At least for the first date.
When they get to Castiel's house, Dean jumps out to open his door for him like a gentleman. He grins at the eye roll it earns him.
"Thank you," Cas says, waiting until Dean has the passenger door closed before walking with him to the front door. Dean is deciding what the best way to pull Cas' clothes off him would be when Castiel turns around at the door and pulls him close by his shirt tails. He tilts his head and presses his lips to Dean's before Dean realizes what's happening. He jumps right on board once he does, wrapping his hands around Cas' waist and licking a strip across his bottom lip, waiting for permission, soon granted. Cas' lips are insistent, scraping against Dean's, chapped and rough. It makes Dean shiver.
Dean is edging Cas towards the door with the intention of pressing him into it and then into the house, but Cas pulls away with a firm final chaste press of lips. He smiles at Dean, all crinkly eyes and happiness.
"Thank you for tonight. I had an excellent time. Call me?" He pecks Dean's cheek and slips inside, too fast for Dean to realize what's happened until he's alone on the porch, staring at the door, frowning. He stands there for a long moment, scratching the back of his neck, looking around the porch. The light turns on inside, but Cas doesn't come back out.
Eventually, Dean goes back to the car, trying to figure out what he did wrong to earn the rejection. Did his breath stink? He'd popped gum after the burger. Was it the gum? Was Castiel not a fan of gum-chewers? Dean gets into the car with a sinking feeling. He checks his appearance in the mirror, handsome as usual. Sniffs his armpits, but he doesn't smell. Did he say something? He looks back at the house, catching a glimpse of Cas' silhouette behind the blinds of what must be his bedroom. A cat jumps onto something level with the window and Cas' shadow pets it. Dean takes that as his cue to leave. He starts the Impala and drives back to the motel, but it's a long time before he goes to sleep.
-
Cas: I had an excellent time last night. When can we do it again?
Dean blinks awake to the sound of his phone buzzing, alerting him to a new text message. He checks the clock: 6:15AM. Who in the holy hell would be texting him that early in the morning? He grabs the phone and peers at the screen, surprised to see a text from Castiel. He stares at the text for a good minute before he really reads it. He thought for sure that Cas didn't like him, but here he is, asking for a second date. Usually, Dean's first dates go so well that a second isn't necessary, but the thought of seeing Cas again sends a little thrill through him. He sits up and slowly types out a reply.
Dean: i liked it too. what are you doing tonight?
Dean thinks about going to sleep again, but his body is already awake. He climbs out of bed and goes to brush his teeth, taking the phone with him. It beeps just as he's spitting out toothpaste.
Cas: Whatever you want to do, I believe.
"Yeah, you are," Dean mutters, grinning as he picks the phone up.
Dean: you like movies?
Cas: I have not seen many, but I've enjoyed what I have seen.
Dean: you heard of fantastic 4?
Cas: I do not believe so. Is that a new cocktail?
"New cocktail? God damn, you're adorable." He can imagine the confused squinty-eyed face Cas probably made while typing and grins to himself as he pulls on his shirt. Maybe breakfast at the cafe?
Dean: new movie just came out. it's about superheros
Cas: I have never seen a superhero movie before.
Dean: do you want to tonight?
Cas: With you? Absolutely.
Dean's cheeks are starting to hurt from grinning, and he doesn't even care. The diner is only a few blocks away, but he still decides to drive. He's pleased to see messy dark hair through the window when he pulls up to the parking lot. Cas lights up as soon as he see Dean, and comes to greet him at the door. "You didn't have to come here to confirm our evening."
Dean shrugs, smiling back at him. "Gotta eat breakfast somewhere, right? Might as well get to see you're smile while I do."
It was the right thing to say. Cas blushes a light pink to match his apron and turns to lead Dean to a table. He leaves him with a menu and a promise of excellent pancakes. As he walks away, Dean gets a glimpse of the shorts he's got on, green and ironed to sharp creases. Dean normally isn't a fan of dudes in shorts, but he has to admire the way they form to Cas' pert ass in just the right way. He pulls his cell out of his pocket and sends off a quick text.
Dean: your ass looks hot in those shorts
Dean hears a sharp laugh, high and happy, from the back. When Cas comes back with his coffee, he rewards him for the compliment with a kiss to his cheek and a request for him to order.
After the movie--which even Dean has to admit was awful--Cas stops him at the front door again for another steamy kiss. Dean manages to get him pressed up against the door this time, arms wrapped tightly around Dean's neck, their mouths hot and hard against each other. Dean's fingers just start to creep up the edge of Cas' striped shirt when Cas pulls his mouth away, just a touch out of breath. "I had an excellent time tonight."
Dean groans, slumping against Cas and dropping his forehead to Cas' shoulder. "Don't lie. That movie was terrible."
"I enjoyed it. Thank you for treating me."
"You're welcome," Dean says into the skin of his neck, pressing a kiss there.
"I have a double shift tomorrow, but I'm off on Monday. Would you like to go swimming with me?"
Dean stiffens. He's not the biggest fan of swimming. He doesn't even own swim trunks. He only knows how to do it at all because his dad insisted he and Sammy learn as part of their training. He can think of a hundred other things he'd rather do than go swimming, hot summer or not. He starts to say no, but then looks up and connects gazes with Cas, and those baby blues pull him right in. "Yeah, sure."
"You don't have to work?"
"I'm a freelancer. I can work whenever I want to."
"Oh? Good then. There's a pond not far from here that's fairly private. It isn't a hot springs or anything, but it's warm enough to swim in while still being refreshing."
Oh fuck, a lake? Dean doesn't have the best track record with lakes. He quiets his mental doubter, though. A day alone with Cas in nothing but shorts? Hell yes. If he plays his cards right, they'll be spending most of the time on the beach with some lube anyway. He can handle a little pond water. "Sounds awesome."
Cas smiles, eyes crinkling just a little at the corners. "Good. If you come over early, I can make you breakfast first."
"Watch yourself, sweetheart. If you cook as good as you bake pie, I might never leave."
"I doubt I'd mind." He leans up to connect his lips to Dean's again, but doesn't let it heat up this time, just a soft press of lips against his before he's pulling away. "I'll see you on Monday, then?"
"Yeah, Monday," Dean says, a little confused as to why he's being left on the porch again. Cas pulls him into a tight hug, pecks his lips once more, says a soft goodnight, and slips inside. Dean lets out a loud sigh as the door shuts in front of him, disappointed at another night without getting to get Cas naked and horizontal. He sighs to himself and heads back to the car, his lips still tingling from Cas' kiss.
-
The smells of breakfast hit Dean before he's even reached the porch, fried bacon and some kind of sweet pastry. He can hear Cas through the open kitchen window, singing along with the radio. He has a nice singing voice, deep and rich. Dean has no idea what the music is that he's listening to, though.
"The door is open," Cas says through the window when Dean's boots creak on the porch steps. Dean lets himself in and takes his boots off, looking around at the old house now that he has the chance finally. It's full of old photographs and paintings and furniture that has clearly been in the house for a couple generations at least. Some of the photographs show a guy who looks just like Cas in family shots, some as old as the turn of the last century. Dean has seen this sort of personal history before, but he can't imagine owning anything like this. He barely has two pictures of his mother, let alone his great-great-grandfather.
When Dean turns into the kitchen, he is met with the sight of Cas in swim trunks and a t-shirt, hips swaying to an old Motown song. Dean slides up behind him and sways with him, wrapping his hands around Cas' hips and pressing a kiss to his neck. "I don't know what you made, but it smells like heaven."
"Thank you. The coffee just finished brewing if you want any," Cas tells him, leaning back against him. He's turning over what looks like French toast on a griddle that spans the entire stove top. Dean's mouth starts watering as soon as he sees it. There is also bacon, which he reaches for only to get his hand smacked by a spatula and a gentle elbow to the ribs. "Breakfast is eaten at the table."
"But it looks so good…"
Cas hums in agreement, but still smacks his hand again when he reaches over for a second attempt. Dean slumps against his back with a sigh, then a smile creeps across his face. "Fine, I'll just have to eat you, then." He presses his lips to Cas' neck, slowly moving along his skin. Tiny mewls mark his progress as Cas leans his head to the side to give him better access. He isn't permitted the privilege long before Cas is nudging him away and starting to plate the French toast.
It's as good as it smelled, thick and buttery on his tongue. Dean opens his eyes after his first bite and stares at Cas, unable to form words. Castiel looks anxious, eyes darting between Dean's face and his plate. "Well?"
Dean blinks, shakes his head. "Are you serious?"
Cas' brows furrow. "Yes?"
"This is fucking awesome. You're fucking awesome. How are you real?"
His eyes dart away briefly. "Thank you."
Dean reaches a foot over under the table and brushes his socked toes over Cas' bare foot. A blush blooms on Cas' cheeks and he hooks his ankle with Dean's.
"You said you're staying in the motel by the cafe, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Does that mean you don't intend to stay?"
Dean drops his eyes to his plate, cutting off another bite with his fork and stuffing it in his mouth. The flavors explode on his tongue. "I'm writing an article about the unicorn sightings. Wasn't planning to be here more than a few days, but I think I can be persuaded to stay longer." He winks. "You keep cooking like this, and I might never leave."
Cas' eyes glow a warm blue. "I will have to do my best to keep you then, won't I?" They spend the next long moment just smiling at each other over the breakfast table.
After breakfast and clean-up, Cas hands Dean a cooler and a couple of folded beach towels, takes a basket and massive folded blanket himself and heads out the back door. He doesn't lock it, but Dean keeps his mouth shut about that. Cas' backyard butts up to the woods, a narrow break in the trees the only indication of the path they take. Dean stays alert, keeping his eyes on the trees for any signs of movement. He knows there aren't any large predators in these woods, but they are where he found the hairs and the hoof prints. He isn't going to mention that to Cas, though. He doesn't need to sound like a crazy person, even if Cas didn't comment on the unicorn article.
A ten-minute walk ends in a break in the woods that reveals a small lake, definitely secluded. It's quiet out here, the only sounds the leaves rustling in the breeze and the occasional chatter of birds. A few of Dean's burdens slide from his shoulders as he sets the cooler down. Cas turns to him, a serene smile on his face. "Isn't it lovely?" he asks in a hushed, reverent voice.
Dean nods, eyes trailing over the lake. There's a small dock anchored in the middle, worn and ancient-looking. His attention is stolen again by Cas, pulling his shirt over his head and sliding his sandals off his feet. He's built like a runner, tight muscles and slim. Dean licks his lips, excited at the thought of being able to touch all the smooth, tanned skin, wet with lake water. Dean starts kicking off his own boots, pulling his socks off. He didn't bring swim trunks, but he figures black boxer-briefs will work just as well. Cas is already in the water by the time Dean steps out of his jeans. Dean stands at the bank, watching him swim the length of the lake before turning around to come back. His head pops back up above the water, and he looks around for Dean. When he sees him still standing on the beach, he splashes water in his direction. "Are you getting in? Where is your bathing suit?"
"Didn't have one. You don't mind me swimming in my underwear, do you?" Dean starts wading into the water, smirk firmly in place, enjoying the way Cas' eyes dart to the line of his soft cock under the black cotton. The water isn't as cold as he thought it would be thankfully.
Cas shakes his head. "No, just get in here. The water feels amazing." He sends another splash at Dean, hitting him all the way up to his chest. Dean narrows his eyes and dives in, chasing after Cas, who laughs and kicks away from him.
They spend a good while in the chase before Cas finally lets himself get caught and pulled into a wet kiss. Dean runs his hands down Cas' back underwater, clutching him close, fingers grazing the elastic of his trunks. Cas squirms under his touch, reaching the arm not clutched around Dean's neck to put Dean's hand firmly higher on his back. "Don't tempt me," he murmurs against Dean's lips.
"Hopin' to do more'n tempt. You're driving me crazy," Dean says back, trailing kisses down his neck. Cas whines a little, but pushes away enough to make eye contact.
"I don't mean to be. I…" He looks pained, like he doesn't know how to explain himself. Dean lets him go because he looks like he could use the space. Cas treads a few feet away, looking off in the distance. Dean's heart sinks. Is this where he gets rejected? He thought Cas liked him. He'd acted like he liked him. He'd been talking about trying to keep Dean around just an hour ago. Maybe he was in the closet? Dean's definitely been there, remembers the sense of shame he used to feel any time he mentioned a guy around his dad.
"I am saving myself for marriage," is the last thing Dean would have expected to come out of Cas' mouth, but it's what he says. Dean gapes at him, unsure he heard correctly. He's met a few good girls who wanted to save themselves, but a guy? He's never heard of that before. He isn't even sure what to say, but Cas is starting to deflate, so he has to say something.
"Okay…" he manages, still unsure. "So, no touching?"
Cas swims a little closer, looking less like a punctured balloon. "Touching is okay. Just… clothes stay on."
"But we can still kiss and stuff, right?"
Cas reaches out and wraps his hands around Dean's neck, pulling himself closer. "Yes, please."
Dean sets his hands tentatively on Cas' waist. "Good. Don't think I could keep my hands off you completely."
Cas smiles, eyes warm and almost glowing. "I like touching you as well." Dean presses their mouths together again, licking his way into Cas' and taking over. Cas groans into his mouth, pulls him closer. Sometime in the middle of their kisses, he wraps his legs around Dean's waist. Dean resists the urge to lower his hands to Cas' ass, settles for tracing the muscles of his back, the dip of his spine.
They drift away eventually, float around for a while before settling on the beach to eat the lunch Cas packed them. "So, you've got a pretty impressive collection of old photos in your house. Your family lived here long?"
Cas nods, eyes intent on his sandwich. "My great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather built the house a little before the Civil War."
"Really? That's quite a backstory."
"Mmm, we haven't always lived here, though. Someone moves in for a little while every generation or so, then moves away."
"How long you been here?"
"Five years. I lived in Boston before, Atlanta before that. My family has a tendency to wander."
"No kidding? Mine, too. Haven't lived anywhere more than a few months since I was little."
"Was your family in the military?"
Dean nods. It isn't a lie, exactly. "Dad was a marine."
"That must have been difficult. You must have had to be the new student constantly."
Dean nods. "Wasn't easy. What about your parents? Why'd they move around?"
Castiel looks off into the water. "They had a difficult time settling down. Restless spirits, I guess."
"They gone?"
"Yes, a long time ago."
"Mine, too."
Cas' eyes meet Dean's and he reaches over to slip his hand through Dean's. They sit for a long moment, sharing a glance and a touch. They only break their connection at the commotion of two ducks splashing loudly onto the lake.
-
He should be looking for another case, he really should be. The unicorn thing is obviously a bust. Even if there were such a thing as unicorns, it doesn't appear to be doing anything but showing up on people's lawns in the middle of the night. It's time to move on, it really is. He has a responsibility to help people who are in real trouble, and that doesn't describe anyone in this town as far as he can tell. And yet here he is, laptop shut, avoiding calling Bobby, doing nothing more than finding ways to be near Cas. Even when he does look for cases, he isn't really looking, just sort of drive-by checking. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but he doesn't want to leave, not without Cas.
On the second week of his stay, the decision is made for him. When Dean walks into the diner that morning, it's abuzz with chatter on a scale Dean hasn't experienced before. People are hopping from table to table, obviously gossiping. Something's going down. Dean takes a seat at the counter and looks around at his fellow diners. The two old dudes sitting next to him are frowning and shaking their heads as if they can't believe the fuss. Cas is nowhere in sight.
"What's going on?" Dean asks them.
The one closest to him gives him an unimpressed look. "Nonsense is what. One woman gets cured of cancer and the whole town starts crying miracles."
"Cured? What happened?" Dean asks. He feels a tingle from the hair on his arms rising.
"Susan Brath, plays organ over at the church on 5th. She's had stage four breast cancer for a few months now. Doctors didn't give her more than a few months more to live. Came back from the doctor this morning, and she's cancer free. Not one sign that she ever even had it, according to her. Claims it's a miracle. Said she was visited by a unicorn of all things last night."
The other guy snorts. "When the young girls started talking about unicorns, I thought they were just being silly kids, but this is ridiculous."
"A unicorn? Really?" Dean asks, surprised.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for her. Couldn't of happened to a nicer lady. But the whole story sounds like something one of the kids made up, you know?" the first guy says. Dean nods, understanding. Just then a waitress pops by with a carafe of coffee and starts refills.
"Can I get you anything, sugar?" she asks Dean. He flips over his coffee mug and holds it out for her.
"Cas in today?"
"He'll be in later. You the Dean he's been talking about all week?"
"Maybe." Dean tucks away the knowledge that Cas has been talking about him. "Can you tell me anything more about this miracle everyone's talking about?"
"Not much to say beyond what Mike and Tom told you. Susan says she had a unicorn come to her backyard a few nights ago, touched her with its horn. She went to the doctor the next day for a regular blood test, and she's cancer free."
"And she was stage four before the other day?"
"Yep. It's a miracle."
"Sounds like…" Dean drains his coffee cup, unable to wrap his head around what he's hearing. Fuckin' miracles? There's gotta be a catch. There's always a catch. He'll have to wait until later to ask this Susan woman, wait until things are settled. He orders breakfast in the meantime, but he barely tastes it. He's too busy worrying about whether or not some poor sap took the fall for Susan's cure.
-
It takes Dean a few hours to figure out where Susan lives, but he eventually ends up in front of a tiny, old house in the middle of town. The husband answers the door—or at least Dean assumes that he's the husband. He's taller than Dean and looks like he works with his hands. Dean smiles at him, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. He's even put on a suit jacket and buttoned up his plaid shirt to look more professional.
"Hi there, my name is Dean Miller. I'm writing an article about the unicorn sightings, and I heard that Susan had quite the sighting a few nights ago. Would you mind if I come in and ask her a few questions about it?"
The man looks skeptical. "Who do you work for?"
"Myself. I run a blog about mysterious sightings. Called 'Out of the Dark'." A hunter friend actually runs the blog, but that doesn't matter. "I'm not here to mock or belittle Susan, if that's what you're worried about. I've already spoken with several of the girls who saw the unicorn, a couple parents, and Frenchie. I was about to finish the article when I heard about Susan's sighting. And the good news. Congratulations."
"Thank you…" he says. He seems to waiver, begrudgingly opens the screen door for Dean. "We've had three reporters in this morning already."
"Not to mention all the other visitors, I bet. Thank you for your time."
"I heard a stranger named Dean's been hanging around Castiel. Can't be too bad if he likes you," the man says, shrugging.
Dean's smile is genuine this time. "News spreads fast, I guess. I didn't catch your name, by the way."
"Donald."
Dean is led into a kitchen that looks like it came right out of the early 90's, complete with country apple theme. There's a woman standing at the counter, hands deep in a mixing bowl decorated with sponged-on apples. The kitchen smells like chocolate chip cookies. Dean's stomach grumbles its appreciation.
"Hey sweetheart, that man Castiel's been seeing wants to talk to you about the unicorn," Donald says, indicating Dean.
"Sorry to intrude, ma'am. Do you have a minute? My name's Dean."
"Of course. A friend of Castiel's is a friend of mine. You don't mind if I keep baking, do you? Ever since the doctor cleared me, all I want to do is make things." Susan is all smiles, hands still busy working through the dough. She has a flowered scarf wrapped around her obviously bald head and is wearing a white apron with pictures of fruit all over it. She's practically alight with happiness.
Dean returns her smile. "Thank you. I didn't realize Castiel was so popular. I guess I'm not surprised, though." He walks over to the counter near her and pulls out his notebook. "So, a few people in town tell me that before this week, you were battling stage four breast cancer."
"That's right. I was diagnosed three months ago. I was just getting blood work done before starting my second round of chemo."
"But now you're cancer-free?"
"Yep, my blood platelet count was 247,000. They did a scan that came back negative for cancer cells. The doctor didn't believe it, so we did a second one. When that one came back clear, too, she told me it looks like I'm cured."
"That's amazing, really. I'm very happy for you." He pauses, watches her start to spoon clumps of dough onto a cookie sheet. "So, the rumors in town say you saw a unicorn?"
Susan nods, her headscarf fluttering down her back. "Yes, Sunday night. I woke up nauseous and went downstairs to try some crackers to settle my stomach. When I got into the kitchen, there was a horse standing right there out that window." She points to a spot near a fire pit in the backyard. Dean notes that it butts up against the forest.
"Have you ever had a horse in your backyard before?"
"No. There was a giant tortoise once; one of the neighbors has one that got out of his yard. We get deer a lot, but nothing that big."
"Can you describe the animal for me?"
"He was beautiful. Pure white, with this bright blue mane and tail. His horn was sort of cork-screwed, very long. Looked and felt like it was made of pearl."
Dean looks up from jotting this down. "Felt? Did the horse touch you?"
"Yes. I went into the backyard to get a better look. I thought he would run off, but he waited just outside. When I walked up to him, he bowed his head and touched his horn to my chest. Everything got very warm, but not… not unpleasant. Sort of tingling, you know? It was nice. I felt a million times better when he pulled away. He let me pet his mane and his horn. Then he nudged me back towards the house and left through the woods."
Dean stares at her, not sure what to say. This cannot be for real. "Do you think it… he… healed you? When he touched you with his horn?"
She looks annoyed, starts scooping dough faster. "I know it sounds crazy, but that's what happened."
Dean hurries to try to rectify the situation. He didn't mean to offend her. "No, no, please don't think I was trying to mock you. I believe you. I just want to make sure I understand what happened. Believe me, I've seen a lot weirder stuff than unicorns." She seems to relax a little, though she still looks skeptical of him. Dean rifles through his pockets for a baggie and holds it up to her, showing her the bright blue hairs he found in the woods earlier that week. "Did his tail look like this?" he asks.
The skepticism is replaced with disbelief. She nods. "Yes, where did you find that?"
"In the woods last week, along with some hoof prints. Would you mind if I look around your backyard after we're done talking?"
"Not at all." They talk a little longer. Dean asks the standard questions. Were you sleeping? Had you taken any medication that could have altered your perspective? To your knowledge, does anyone in town own a white horse? When Susan answers all of them in the negative, Dean thanks her and heads out to their backyard. He only has to walk over to the area Susan indicated to see the hoof prints. He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of them. At the edge of the forest, he finds a few long blue hairs caught on a bush. He adds them to the baggie. When he pops his head in to thank them again and say goodbye, Susan doesn't let him leave without taking some cookies. He eats all but four on the way back to the motel. The rest he leaves to share with Cas.
-
Another week and there have been a total of three miracles. There was Susan, but also a little boy named Jadyn, who was born blind, but woke up Wednesday morning and told his mother that she looked beautiful. On Saturday, Dean interviewed Adrianna, a teen girl whose leg had been shattered in a car accident. Before the accident, she had been a ballerina with a real possibility of going to Juilliard, but the accident had shattered that dream as effectively as the leg. When she woke up Friday morning without any pain or difficulty moving, she had thought it was a fluke. An x-ray had proven the leg was healed to the point that there appeared to have never been any damage. She was already back in classes and back on track to achieve her dream.
They all reported encountering the unicorn. Jadyn had been the most interesting because he hadn't actually been able to see the unicorn until he felt the horn touch him and the warmth in his eyes. He had said it was blurry, and hadn't had names for its coloring, but the hairs and hoof prints had been in their backyard the same as the others.
Dean has been doing research, checking local hospitals for copycat injuries, looking for spells that could cause the same effect. Nothing fits. Baffled, he does the only thing he can think to do.
He catches Sam on his way home from work. "You need my help? Bobby busy?" Sam asks, sounding distracted.
"No way I'm calling him about this one. He'll laugh me off the phone."
Sam sighs on the other end. Dean can already imagine the annoyed bitch face he must be making. "Come on, Dean, I don't hunt anymore. You know that, man."
"I know. I'm not asking you to. I just need help figuring this out. Just let me tell you what's happening and give me your opinion. That's it."
"Fine."
Dean tells him about the unicorn sightings and the healings, about how he hasn't found any evidence that it could be taking health from someone else to heal these people. Sam is quiet throughout the entire story, but he doesn't make any of the finger-tapping noises he does when he's not listening, nor does he groan in exasperation or sigh like a bored little kid. "So, what I can't figure out is if I should even be hunting this thing. As far as I can tell, it isn't hurting anyone. It's not even trading illness for illness, like that crazy faith healer's wife I shut down in Nebraska. It sounds like it's just, you know, helping people. For real."
"And it's a unicorn?"
"Yeah, according to all the witnesses. Dude, I didn't even think they existed. Dad always said they were made up."
"Maybe they're just really good at hiding."
"Maybe. But should I go looking or leave it? Do you think a unicorn could be evil?" Dean can't believe that just came out of his mouth. What is his life?
"I don't know, man. Maybe sit on it another week? Do more research, see it if shows again?"
"Yeah, I guess. This is weird, though, right?"
"Yeah, sounds pretty weird to me."
"Anyway, thanks for talking me through it. How's that lady of yours doin'?"
Dean can hear the grin in Sam's voice when he answers. They talk about Jess and how Dean needs to make a trip down to California soon for well over an hour, and Dean gets off the phone with a light, happy feeling. He loves hunting and traveling, but it can get lonely now out on his own. Sometimes, he just misses his brother.
Dean: hungry?
Cas: Burgers?
Dean groans. How the hell is he ever going to let this one go?
-
Dean spends another week in Pontiac, watching, reading. Curling up on the couch and watching movies with Cas. He skims through every book the library has on unicorns—admittedly not many that aren't glittery adorable picture books for princess-loving little kids—but finds only vague references to healing abilities. There's more information about them in Harry Potter than in some of the lore books. In the meantime, there are three more 'miracles'. Dean scoured the hospitals again, looking for mirrored cases, checked the morgue for mysterious deaths. Still nothing.
After the seventh case, Dean spends an entire day mapping out the connections between the 'victims', but the only thing he can find to link them all is that they are all frequent visitors of the cafe. Normally, that would be good news, but when the same can be said about half the town, it is hard to figure out what the cafe has to do with a do-gooder unicorn.
Dean breaks in one night after close to have a look around, but he doesn't find anything out of the ordinary. He decides to stake the place out, see if he can identify the potential next 'victim'. It isn't easy with Cas to contend with.
"You've been spending a lot of time here lately," he says one day while re-filling Dean's coffee. "Not that I mind seeing you all the time, but don't you have work to do?"
Dean indicates the laptop he has been bringing with him, beaten up and covered in band stickers, taken as payment from the crime scene of a fatal werewolf bite two years ago. It's crappy, but it meets Dean's simple needs. "The wifi at the motel is broken. I'm trying to work on my blog." He shows Cas the screen with an open Wordpress post up. He'd managed to talk his hunter friend, Jason, into giving him temporary access to his blog to help with his cover in exchange for a write-up about the case.
"Oh, how's that coming along?"
"Okay, just having a little trouble finding the words. It would help if I could see this unicorn myself."
Cas leans over and kisses his cheek, brushing his nose against Dean's ear. "You'll figure it out. I have faith in you," he says in a low, soft voice that sends warmth down Dean's spine.
Dean smiles up at him, reach around to pat his hip. "Thanks."
Cas wanders off to help other patrons, and Dean continues watching them all. Sometime that afternoon, Abigail comes in with her family, fresh from dance class in full leotard, pink skirt, and high bun. They make a point to sit near Dean's table. "Castiel working today?" Marlene, Abby's mother, asks him.
"Yeah, he's in the back. How are you guys doing?"
"Very well. Abby's teacher thinks she'll be back to her usual self in a few months."
"She thinks I'll be ready for the Fall recital!" Abby says, beaming.
Dean smiles back, nodding, only having a vague idea of what happens at a recital. "Awesome, glad to hear it."
"It's my favorite ballerina. How are you all doing?" Cas asks as he comes over to their table with a pitcher of ice water. They chat for awhile before ordering. Dean pretends to be focused on his computer, but he takes note of everyone else the family interacts with, just in case something catches.
It's only on the fourth day of his stake-out that he realizes what he's looking at.
"Mr. Dean!" a small voice says near him, breaking him from his thoughts. He turns to the voice and finds Alexander standing at his elbow, grinning. He still looks like the entire world amazes him, even two weeks after getting his sight. His mother, Amanda, stands behind him, also smiling.
"Hey Alex, how's it going?"
"Great! Did you know that apples are the same color as tomatoes?"
"No kidding? What color is that?"
"Red!"
Dean holds his hand up for a high five in reward for a right answer. Alex smacks his hand hard, still grinning.
"Okay, let's let Dean get back to his work. Have a good day, Dean," Amanda says, guiding Alex away with a hand on his shoulder. They take a table a few away, still in Cas' section. Dean looks around for Cas, finds him at the counter talking to the two older men Dean had spoken with the day of the first 'miracle'. When he comes around to take Alex and Amanda's orders, they chat like old friends. Watching them makes something click in Dean's head, and he has to stare at them for a few minutes before he can process the realization.
By now, all seven of the cured customers have stopped in for coffee or a meal. And all seven people and their families have gone out of their way to both be seated in Cas' section, and to spend an extended amount of time talking to him. Dean begins reviewing his interviews with them all in his head. Each had made a comment that was some variation on what Donald Barth had said, "If Castiel likes you, you must be alright." They had all specifically mentioned his connection to Castiel and spoken of Castiel in positive, friendly terms. Dean mentally smacks himself. Cas is the connection. Not the cafe, not the woods. Cas.
Realizing this confuses him even more. What could Cas have to do with a unicorn? He doesn't have any horses. Dean's been over to his house a good dozen times now. He even spent the night once. There isn't even enough room for a barn in the backyard, let alone a horse stable. He's been through the woods, too. Definitely no horses there that he saw.
He's still puzzling it out when an arm wraps around his neck from behind and Cas' breath ghosts over his neck. "I get off in fifteen. Want to take a break from your work and come home with me? I'm thinking about baking cookies."
Dean coughs, thrown a little. "Uh, yeah, yeah, that sounds awesome. What kind of cookies?"
"What kind do you want?"
"Chocolate chip?"
"Chocolate chip it is. I'll be ready as soon as the Disicks leave."
"I'll be ready." Cas leans over his shoulder to kiss him before slipping away. Dean watches him with a mix of confusion and affection. What is his connection to this unicorn?
Later, when Dean is spooning scoops of dough onto greased cookie sheets while Cas searches for his cooling racks, Dean asks the only question he hasn't that might yield an explanation. He does it quietly, slowly, hoping not to piss Cas off or ruin whatever peace they've built together. "It seems like half the town has seen this unicorn by now." Cas hums in agreement, head buried in a cabinet. "Have… you seen it?"
Cas freezes. Dean can see his muscles tense up. He slowly extracts himself from the cabinet, turns on the stool he's standing on, looks at Dean with narrowed, assessing eyes. They stand there, just looking at each other, for a moment that feels like an agonizing hour to Dean before Cas finally speaks. "No, I haven't. Have you?"
Dean shakes his head, looks back at the task he's been given. "Saw the hoof prints, found a couple hairs. No unicorn."
"You found hairs? Like from someone's head, maybe?"
Dean furrows his brow. "They were bright blue."
"Gina Cortez has bright blue hair."
"She like to wander the woods in hoof-print shoes, too?"
"I don't know Gina's habits. I do know that unicorns don't exist."
"So what, you think the whole town's on LSD or something?"
"I don't know what to think. I just know that I don't believe in a mythical creature wandering the woods, healing people."
Dean nods, turns his attention back to the dough. His mind is stuck on the way Cas had tensed up when Dean asked whether or not he'd seen the unicorn. There's something there. Dean just has to figure it out.
-
Dean keeps haunting the cafe, watching the people Cas interacts with closely, but trying to pretend that he isn't. At some point, he realizes that he probably looks like a jealous boyfriend and starts focusing more on writing his 'blog'. He's saved his progress on the account as a draft, keeps adding to it and editing it as he goes. He knows it's crap, but he figures Jason will re-write it before it gets posted. He also isn't all that sure he cares what crazies reading a supernatural conspiracy theory website think of his non-existent writing skills.
He gets a break during lunch a few days after the cookies. Cas is sat across from him, eating his own lunch on his break, his ankle hooked over Dean's under the table. He's been making eyes at Dean all day, smiling at him over uncleared tables, brushing hands over his shoulders as he passes by, leaning over his chair any time he has a free moment to ask him how his progress is going. They probably look gross to everyone around them, but it makes a tiny part of the back of his head warm and purring happy. He's not used to receiving affection in general, and Cas heaps it on him like he's stocking up for the winter.
Cas is telling him about the book he's reading, explaining the intricacies of the strange plot and how well-developed the characters are. Dean listens, but out of the corner of his eye, he's watching a little boy with a pronounced cleft palate and his grandfather walk slowly towards their table. This isn't the first time he's seen the two, and he knows the grandfather has the early signs of Parkinson's. When they reach them, Dean watches Cas light up as he sees them, turning his entire body towards them.
"Hello, how are you?" he asks.
"Pretty good. Martin was just wondering if you were working today or just in for lunch."
"I'm working, just taking a lunch break myself. I'll be done in a few minutes. Have you met Dean?" He turns, waving a hand in Dean's direction. Dean nods at them, shaking the old man's hand when he offers it.
"I've seen you around. New to town, right?"
"Yeah, just here to write an article."
Martin frowns. "You've been here a long time to write one article. What are you writing about?"
Dean tries not to be annoyed at the invasive question. "I'm writing about the unicorn sightings. Can't finish if there's still more sightings, can I?"
"So you aren't here for Cas?"
If he had been drinking, Dean would have choked. This kid… "I uh… yeah, I'm a little bit here for Cas." He looks over at Cas, winks. Cas' cheeks turn pink.
"Us, too," Martin says, only to be shushed by his grandfather.
"Enough bothering the young ones. Let’s go find a table. You can talk to Castiel all you like once you've ordered." He directs the boy over to a table a few away from them and they sit, the boy talking about something Dean can't quite hear.
Dean chuckles, turns back to Cas. "You're pretty popular around here."
"I like people," Cas says with rosy cheeks, shrugging.
"They like you back. Can't blame 'em, either." Dean reaches his foot out, rubs it against Cas'. Cas leans over the table to kiss him in thanks, mindless of anyone watching them.
"I like you, too," Cas says as he stands, brushing his apron off and picking his plate up. Dean watches him walk away, grabs the laptop from the seat of one of the chairs and opens it. Over the rim, he watches Cas talk to the boy and his grandfather. Something about them… Dean cracks his neck, turns his attention back to the computer.
-
Martin Ryan's house is on the other side of town from the motel, in a tiny neighborhood that isn't in the greatest shape. Dean parks a block away and hoofs it over, finds a spot in the woods that edge the neighbor's backyard, and settles on the little pop-up stool he keeps in the trunk. Most of the unicorn sightings happen after midnight, so he settles his back against a tree and drinks his coffee, prepared to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
He tries to get a look at his watch in the moonlight and thinks it might be three in the morning when a rustling noise grabs his attention a half a yard away. He peers through the trees and is stunned at what he sees. "I'll be damned…" he whispers to himself, thankfully soft enough to not be heard by the majestic creature in front of him. Out of the woods walks a tall white horse with bright blue hair and a twisted, pearlescent horn right in the middle of its forehead. Until this moment, Dean had not really believed that there was a unicorn. Hallucinogens in the water, moldy grain like those Salem girls ate to make them crazy, but not an honest-to-god actual live unicorn. It steps silently into the yard and points its head up at the second floor of Martin's house. There's no sound except the wind in the trees, but then a soft, harp-like melody trills out of the unicorn's mouth. It isn't loud, but apparently it is enough. A few minutes later a bleary-eyed, pajamas-clad Martin Ryan steps out of the back door, rubbing at his eyes as though he is just as stunned by what he's seeing as Dean is. He doesn't have any shoes on and his little feet squish in the grass with quiet crunching noises.
As he approaches, the unicorn dips its head low enough for Martin to be able to reach its muzzle. He rubs up and down its nose with wide eyes and an open mouth. He whispers something, but Dean is too far away to hear it. The unicorn dips its head lower, touches the tip of his horn to Martin's head. There's a bright, blinding light. Martin gasps. Dean has to shield his eyes until it fades. When he opens them again and looks at Martin, the cleft palate is gone. As far as he can tell from this distance, any signs of the cleft palate ever having been there are gone, too. Martin touches his hand to his lip, staring at the unicorn without blinking. Dean can see him move his tongue around in his mouth, probably testing to see if there's still a hole in his roof of his mouth. Given prior experiences, Dean's gonna bet there isn't. The unicorn whinnies, shaking its head, and it sounds like music. It snuffles at Martin, noses under his chin. Dean can't tell what it is actually doing, testing him for other injuries or just giving him affection. After some time, Martin begins to regain his senses, and he wraps his little arms around the legs of the unicorn and hugs it hard. Dean pulls out his gun automatically and stands from his camp chair, nervous about what the unicorn might do. Even having seen the healing happen with his own eyes, he can't be sure that the creature won't turn on the kid. Thankfully, that doesn't happen. It nudges at his back with its chin and does its melodic version of braying again. Martin disengages from its legs and turns almost trance-like back to the house.
When he is safely inside, the unicorn turns and walks back into the woods. Dean follows at a distance, trying to be as quiet as possible, gun still cocked. It meanders through the woods, following a path only it understands. It steps through a break in the trees and into another backyard. Dean waits at the tree line to see what it does. To his amazement, it walks through an open back patio door and disappears inside. Dean rushes to follow, only to recognize the backyard as soon as he approaches the house. It's Castiel's house.
Dean's heart speeds up; his mouth goes dry. The creature is in Cas' house. With Cas. Every instinct says he should just follow it inside, figure this thing out, but then… Cas. What would Cas say if he woke up to Dean prowling his house with a loaded gun, looking for a unicorn? He stands at the back door for a long moment, debating. Inside, the lights are off and there's no visible sign of the unicorn. He could just knock on the front door, ask to look around for an animal. How does he explain stalking Cas' backyard, though? Fuck it. Cas' safety is more important than Dean's reputation.
He rounds the house and rings the doorbell with the level of impatience a toddler shows trying to escape their parent's hold. In surprisingly short order, the hall light is turned on and the front door is open by a pajamas-clad Cas. He doesn't look like he was asleep, which is both good and confusing. How did he not hear a horse walking into his house if he was awake? "Hello, Dean," he says, squinting at him.
Dean tucked the gun back into the back of his jeans, but reaches a hand to touch it as he speaks. "Hey, I know it's way late, and this is gonna sound weird, but a, uh… a horse just walked in your back door. Mind if I check?"
"A horse? Dean, that doesn't make sense. I would have noticed if a horse came into my home."
"I know, but humor me, please?"
Cas looks him over for a moment before nodding. "Alright, Dean, I trust you." He holds the door open to let Dean in. Dean takes his boots off so he doesn't track in mud, and goes through the entire house, room-by-room. He finds nothing. Confused, he goes back into the living room rubbing the back of his neck, brows furrowed.
"No horse?" Cas asks, curled up on the couch in his plaid pajamas pants and a ratty old shirt, nursing a cup of tea.
Dean lets his shoulders slump in defeat. Not only did he not find the unicorn, but Cas probably thinks he's crazy now, and he looks so fucking cute. It isn't fair. "No horse. I uh… I'm sorry, Cas. I could have sworn…"
Cas sets the tea on the coffee table and unfolds himself from the couch, sidles up to Dean and tucks his hands inside Dean's coat, wrapping them around his sides. "If you wanted to come over, all you had to do was ask, you know," he says with a mischievous smile.
Dean holds his hands up in protest, but only for a second until he's putting them on Cas' cheeks, running them up through his hair. He can't exactly deny the accusation, even if his original reason for being here had been a supernatural one. "Okay, you caught me. I can't stop thinking about you."
Cas leans into his touch, closing his eyes briefly. "Mmm, neither can I." He leans up to press his lips to Dean's, bringing a lot more heat than Dean is expecting, wet tongue licking into Dean's without preamble.
He groans, pulling Cas closer without thinking, but as he feels a hardness press against his leg, he has to pull away. "I thought you wanted to wait for uh…"
"I do, but that doesn't mean we can't make out on the couch."
Dean grins, kisses him again. "Dude, you're awesome."
They end up doing exactly that until sunrise just begins creeping in through the front window, and only stop to go upstairs and crawl in bed together. As Cas curls up in his arms, Dean forgets all about the unicorn.
-
When Dean wakes up the next afternoon, the other side of the bed is cold, but he can smell coffee brewing somewhere in the house. He goes to the bathroom to relieve himself, intending to eat breakfast, shower, and get dressed in his own clothes again. He needs to go talk to the Ryans, check in on Martin, pick up his coffee and camp chair before the neighbors find it. But as he washes his hands, all that goes out the window. On the floor near the sink, he finds a familiar long blue hair. He reaches down and picks it up, holding it close to his face to make sure he isn't seeing things. No, it really is a blue hair, just like the ones he found in the woods. Just like the tail of the unicorn.
"Son of a bitch…" he mutters, staring at it.
Cas is making eggs when he gets into the kitchen, humming to himself and swaying his hips to whatever song is playing in his head. He looks beyond happy, practically glowing. Dean leans against the kitchen divider and holds the hair up to the light.
"I like you a lot, Cas, but you gotta be straight with me. Are you the unicorn whisperer?" he asks.
Cas freezes over plating the eggs. He looks from the hair to Dean and back again, the happy glow slowly fading from him. "Where did you find that?"
"The bathroom. Where's the unicorn?"
"I thought unicorns didn't exist."
Dean wraps the hair around his finger and levels his eyes on Cas. "Don't play with me."
Cas looks down at the eggs. "You're a hunter, aren't you? I was afraid of that."
"You know what a hunter is?"
"Yes."
Dean straightens and circles the kitchen divider, narrowing in on Cas. "Why do you know what a hunter is if you don't have a unicorn hiding somewhere around here?"
Cas doesn't move away, even as Dean invades his personal space. He looks up at Dean with clear, pleading eyes. "Unicorns aren't dangerous, Dean. Just supernatural."
"Then why can't I see yours?"
"You have, haven't you? You were at Martin's house last night. You followed him here, didn't you?"
Dean clenches his fist around the hair, trying to keep his frustration inside. "Where is it?"
Cas is quiet as Dean crowds him up against the counter, keeping his eyes down, fiddling with the tie on Dean's pajamas pants. "I'm right here."
"I see that, Cas. Where's the unicorn?"
Cas looks up and his eyes are glowing—literally glowing a bright blue. "I'm the unicorn."
Dean laughs, shakes his head, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. He tries to remain calm, but the glow in Cas' eyes is making it hard not to freak out. "I get you wanna protect it, I do. I'm not gonna hurt it, Cas, not if it hasn't hurt anyone. I just want to see it."
Cas reaches up and touches his hand to Dean's bare shoulder, right over an old bullet wound that never healed right. He strokes his thumb over the scar, his skin rough against Dean's. "You were shot in the shoulder here, weren't you? A few years ago. It feels old."
Dean blinks. The wound was a bullet shot by a vampire trying to take him out three years ago. It gives him a twinge, like a pull, every time he shrugs his shoulders. "How did you know that?"
Cas doesn't answer, but his eyes glow bluer, and then a surge of warmth goes through Dean, centering on the scar tissue. When Dean twists away, the old twinge is gone. He stares at Cas and his glowing eyes, unable to move.
"I don't normally do the healing very often. It takes a lot out of me. But I've had this tension pent up ever since I… recently, so I started releasing it by healing a few of my customers. They're all good people who need help. I'm helping. Is that a reason to hunt me?"
"I'm not… you're really a unicorn?" Dean is so distracted by the idea of Cas being a unicorn that he forgets his nerves for the moment.
"Yes." Cas is staring into his eyes with intense sincerity, tinged with a little pleading.
"And you've been healing people to relieve tension?"
"Yes."
"Why are you tense?"
Cas looks at Dean for a long moment, his fingers reaching out to play with the hem of Dean's t-shirt. "I'm not… tense, exactly. Just a little… frustrated." He looks up through his eyelashes at Dean. "Sexually frustrated."
It doesn't take Dean long to put two and two together and come up with four. "You mean because of me?"
Cas nods, blushing. "Your soul shines so bright, Dean. It sings to me. I can't look at you without wanting to touch you."
"So what, you've got energy built up and need to discharge? Like a nuke reactor?"
"Sort of, yes. I could have kept it inside, but it gets uncomfortable. My skin starts to feel tight, and sometimes I can't stop myself from glowing. I thought it would be easier to use the energy in a positive way, since I can't use it with you."
"Because we can't have sex?"
"Not until we're mated, no."
Dean pauses, trying to put the hands stroking up and down his sides out of his head long enough to think. "Mated? You said married before."
"It's the same thing. The unicorn equivalent. And it can only happen with certain people." The way he looks up at Dean makes Dean think he might be putting down something Dean just can't pick up yet.
"Okay. So still no touching?"
Cas hesitates, looking for something in Dean's face. "We could, if you wanted to mate me."
"Mate you? Like marry you?" Dean almost chokes on the word. He's never even dated anyone for more than two months at a time. He woke up in cold sweats when Sammy was getting ready to propose.
"Yes."
"For like forever?"
Cas looks a little hurt by the question. "Yes, Dean." His hands drop away from Dean's sides and he takes a step out of Dean's personal space. "I thought you were open to this. I thought that was why my mating instincts woke up. Obviously I was wrong. Forget about it."
Dean surprises himself by taking Cas' arm, shaking his head. "Just uh… give me a little time. It's a big step. I gotta think about it." He pulls Cas close and kisses his forehead. "You weren't… wrong. I just… this is big." He gulps down a deep breath, trying to swallow around the sudden lump there. On the one hand, this is all fucking nuts, but on the other, the tight feeling he got when Cas stepped away from him isn't something he wants to repeat.
Cas nods, but Dean can still see the hurt and uncertainty in his face. He wants nothing more than to wipe it away, but he's still too freaked out himself. "I'm gonna go get dressed," he says, pulling away. Cas looks sad, but nods, turning towards the stove. Dean watches him for a moment, then goes upstairs to get dressed. Cas is putting breakfast away when he comes back downstairs. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He leaves, feeling horrible, but still sort of panicked. He calls Sam as soon as he hits the sidewalk, heading in the direction he parked the car.
"Dude, not that I don't love hearing from you, but still not a hunter," Sam greets him.
"I know, I know. Shit got crazy, and I don't know what to do. Cas is the unicorn, and he wants me to mate him."
"I'm sorry?" Sam's tone is as incredulous as Dean would expect.
"I know, dude. Crazy, right? I didn't even know unicorns were really a thing, but I saw it. Him. I figured out that the people getting healed were all customers at Cas' cafe, so I canvased the place, figured out who the next person up for healing was. I staked out the kid's house last night, and the unicorn showed, called the kid out of the house somehow, fixed his cleft palate. I followed it through the woods. It went into Cas' house, and I found a hair from its tail this morning in his bathroom. I asked him about it, and he said he was the unicorn. Even healed an old bullet wound scar on my shoulder. His eyes glowed."
Sam takes a beat before answering. "And he wants to have sex with you?"
"No. Well, yeah, but the mate thing sounds more like a marriage thing."
"So, you found the unicorn, and it wants to marry you?"
"Yeah. I'm sort of freaking out here. What do I do?"
"It—he hasn't hurt anyone?"
"Nope, the opposite actually."
Sam waits another beat. "Do you… want to marry him?"
"I…" The question brings him up short. He doesn't not want to marry Cas, but that doesn't mean he wants to, either. He never even thought about the possibility of marriage before, except in his deepest, most secret dreams, the kind he won't even admit to himself he has. "I don't know. What made you want to marry Jess?"
"I couldn't think about life without her," Sam answers without hesitation.
Dean freezes, thinking about going back to his life without Cas. Fleabag motels and endless meaningless hook-ups. One-night-stand after one-night-stand. No goofy smiles over coffee, no snuggling on the couch—not that Dean's into that sort of thing—no more crinkly-eyed cranky adorable asshole waking up in his arms—it only happened the once, but now that he's experienced it, he doesn't think he wants to go back to before. "I… uh… I think I do."
"Do what? Want to marry the unicorn? Dean, come on, you've known him a day."
"Actually, uh, Cas and I have been dating for a few weeks now."
Sam is quiet for another long minute. "Still, that's a big step. Probably even bigger with a unicorn. Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm not sure, Sammy, but I don't know if I want to like… leave without him."
"So what happens if you marry him—or mate him, or whatever—and six months from now you decide you don't want to be with him anymore? Is there a unicorn divorce? What about hunting? You just gonna stop?"
"I uh… I don't know. I guess I'll have to ask."
"I can't believe you're even thinking about this. I didn't even know you were that into guys."
"What do you mean, Sammy? You've seen me with guys before."
"Yeah, but not as many as girls by a mile. I always thought it was just an any-port-in-a-storm kind of thing."
"Well, it wasn't, and I like Cas a lot."
"Enough to marry him."
"Maybe. We'll see. I'm gonna sleep on it, I think. Thanks for letting me talk to you about this." Dean gets into his car, realizing he's been standing at the car door, twirling his keys around his finger over and over again.
"No problem. Be smart."
"Isn't that your department?"
"I'm not the one attracting unicorns to me, man."
"Haha, yeah, thanks, Sammy. I'll talk to you soon. And tell that gorgeous girl of yours hey for me."
"I will."
Dean hangs up as he starts the car. He drives back to the motel in silence. Talking it over with Sam has basically made the decision for him, but Sam was right. He needs to be smart about this. He can't tie himself permanently to a being he knows next to nothing about. He dials another number as he lets himself into his motel room.
"Hey Bobby, what do you know about unicorns?"
"That they shoot rainbows outta their ass. What do you think? You drunk, boy?"
"No, I uh… I saw one, Bobby. A real one. Can you send me all the lore you got?"
The news must throw Bobby for a loop because it takes Dean the better part of an hour to convince Bobby to email what he has. Dean spends the afternoon and evening looking through the stuff, but it's mostly bullshit and circumstantial, not much better than what he's already found. None of the writers has ever actually interacted with a unicorn, and none reported them ever taking human form, let alone mating a human.
His bed, when he gets in it that night, is colder than usual.
-
When Dean wakes up the next morning, it's to a message from Ellen telling him about a possible demon in Iowa. Dean is the only hunter close. He calls for more details, ends up talking to Ellen for twenty minutes about the unicorn situation, doesn't mention his relationship with Cas. He decides to go, thinking it might be a good idea to get a little distance between him and Cas, see how he feels when he's not so close. He sends a text to Cas once he's packed and in the Impala.
Dean: got a case in iowa back in a few days
It's weird to Dean to be able to directly name his reason for leaving, but sort of nice, too. He turns the music up in the car and rolls the windows down, trying to put the thought of Cas out of his mind for a while. He checks his phone when he gets to Iowa, finds a reply from Cas.
Cas: okay
Something about it makes his heart sink and his stomach swoosh in an unpleasant way. He tucks the phone into his back pocket and stocks up on holy water, reciting the exorcism back to himself to make sure he still has it memorized. It's been a long while since he came across a demon. He doesn't want to get killed because his Latin's rusty.
There's a body at the morgue—the town dentist according to the article Ellen emailed him—throat cut, weird symbols carved into the chest. Dean decides to start there. The kid at the counter looks bored out of her mind, but she perks up as soon as Dean walks in in a suit, flashing his fake FBI badge. "Hey there, heard you have a body with some symbols carved in the chest?"
The girl blinks at him, peers at his open badge, then up at him again. "Isn't there paperwork you’re supposed to fill out?"
Dean raises an eyebrow at her. "Really? Paperwork?"
"I just… Look, Ridley's real strict about people going into his lab when he's not here. I let you in, and I wasn't supposed to, and he's gonna write me up."
Dean feels bad for the girl, but he doesn't have the patience for this shit. "You don't let me in to see that body, I'll write you both up. You really want to get a write-up at the FBI?"
She rolls her eyes, but gets up and walks over to the door that must lead to the morgue. "Fine, but if I get in trouble, I'm telling him you held me at gunpoint."
"That's fine." He follows her back into a cold metal room that looks like pretty much every other morgue he's ever been in, except that this one is clean on a scale that makes Dean feel like he should be wearing plastic boot covers over his shoes. She reads a couple of the door tags before pulling out a drawer, making a face as the body is revealed. It isn't a pretty picture, but Dean's definitely seen worse. The throat was sliced open, a clean, deep cut from ear to ear visible even from a few feet away. The chest has the Y-pattern incision that tells Dean there's already been an autopsy, but he can tell from what he can see of the symbols carved into the chest that this is definitely a demonic hit. He doesn't recognize what they might be for, but they're definitely above the average witch's pay-grade.
"Don't suppose you have copies of the original photos of his chest you'd let me have?"
The girl is staring at the body with a disgusted fascination. She shakes herself of her trance to look up at Dean. "You're pushing it. Are you done already? It's not exactly comfortable standing over the mutilated body of the guy who used to clean your teeth."
"Yeah, I just wanted to make sure I was looking at what I thought I would be. You sure I gotta go get paperwork for the pictures? I wouldn't mind except it's a pain in the ass getting it faxed over, and I'm pretty sure there's gonna be another body in a day or two if I can't find the killer."
"You've seen this before?" She blanches, freezing in the act of pushing the tray back into the wall.
Dean raises an eyebrow at her. "Why do you think I'm here?"
"Do you think it's a serial killer, then?"
"Sort of."
"A cult maybe? There were some weird people, came into town last week. I'm not big on judging, but they wear a lot of black."
"Yeah? You know where they're staying?" She gives him the address, along with the pictures once he hints that the next victim will probably be much younger than the dentist—a lie, he has no idea who the next victim might be. He checks out the place, though. The 'cult members' are just a bunch of college students taking a road trip. Dean decides they're a dead end and goes to check out the crime scene. He finds sulfur.
"Motherfucker…" he mutters to himself, fingering the reeking yellow powder and trying not to throw up. He texts Ellen to let her know she was right.
Ellen: You need help?
Dean: no
Ellen: You sure? Demons aren't a walk in the park.
Dean: thanks for the vote of confidence. i'll be fine
Dean's staking out the bar the morgue girl told him the dentist had been drinking at the night he was killed when his phone dings with a new text. He pulls the phone out, thinking it might be Ellen. It isn't.
Cas: How is your case going?
Guilt bubbles up in Dean's chest. He tucks the phone back into his pocket without answering, downs the rest of his whiskey in one swallow.
A day passes before he finds out enough to form a theory of where the demon might be hanging out. It isn't much, a rumor that a farmer's wife has been acting weird lately, stand-offish, not coming to church when she's usually sitting in the first row. It isn't much, but in a town this small, it's enough. Dean goes to the house, pretends he wants to buy corn when the woman opens the door. She looks put-upon in the worst way when she finds out what he wants, but he gets a dozen ears for $3.
The possessed woman looks unassuming enough, small, sort of mousy. It isn't until Dean follows her to an old barn and witnesses her slit the throat of a guy tied up to a broken chair that he believes she's a demon. By then, there isn't anything he can do for the man, so he sneaks back to the house and quickly paints a devil's trap on the ceiling above the kitchen door. When she comes through it carrying an ancient bowl filled to the brim with blood, she doesn't get more than a few feet into the house before the trap stops her. She screeches in rage, eyes flicking to black in an instant. Dean tosses holy water into her face and uses the distraction to rip the bowl out of her hand and toss it behind his back. He's seen demons use the bowls to communicate. He can't risk her calling her friends for help, if that wasn't already what she was doing with it.
"Fucking hunters," she snarls.
"Hi there." He waves, smirk in place. "Like the meat suit. Wanna tell me what you're doing wearing it?"
She only glares at him. Then she sniffs the air, gags. "God, you reek. Did you roll in fairy dust or something?"
Dean sniffs his sleeve on reflex, realizes she must be talking about Cas. "Shut up. What are you doing in Bumfuck, Iowa?"
"None of your business, vermin."
"Fair enough." He hits her with another splash of holy water, but she only sputters this time and spits it out, thin streams of smoke drifting off her face. "Exorcizamus te…" She snarls again, bucks against the barrier. He persists, ignoring her shrieks. It's been a while since his last demon exorcism. He takes a step back when the smoke pours out of her mouth, paranoid that she'll possess him next until he sees the smoke slam into the barrier. A minute and a lot of thrashing later, the smoke is gone, and Dean is left with a woman crumpled on the floor, disoriented. He helps her up, gets her into a chair, gets a glass of water for her.
"You okay?" he asks.
She nods, still getting her bearings. "Thank you," she manages to get out.
"No problem. How much do you remember of what happened?"
"Most of it." She sucks in a shaky breath, all color draining from her face. "Oh god, I killed people." Dean has just enough time to catch her before she slumps out of the chair in a dead faint.
-
Cas is at the cafe when Dean returns to town the next day, drained of all energy from cleaning up the aftermath. Dean has only been gone for four days, but the change in Cas' appearance and demeanor is drastic. His shirt is mis-buttoned, his hair more of a mess than usual. He looks like he hasn't slept since Dean left. He looks like someone took the wind out of his sails. Dean feels guilty knowing that someone was him. Cas barely smiles at the customers and his usual bright, happy cheer is completely missing. He freezes in the middle of pouring coffee for someone when he spots Dean, and only manages not to over-pour the coffee and spill it everywhere thanks to the customer alerting him. He apologizes to the man, eyes darting back to Dean, waiting until the man is pacified before making a beeline to Dean.
"If you are here to let me down gently, please do so quickly so that I can get on with my work without further distractions," he says, not even giving Dean enough time to say hello.
Dean shakes his head, pulling Cas closer by the elbow. "I'm not letting you down. Wouldn't come back if I was gonna do that."
Cas peers up at him as though he's trying to make Dean out. "You aren't?" A little of the light comes back to his eyes.
"No, I was thinking we could uh… maybe keep doing what we've been doing? See how things pan out?"
The eyes narrow even more. "What have we been doing?"
Dean scratches the back of his head, feeling a little embarrassed to admit all this. "Hanging out—Dating, I guess."
Cas is quiet for a minute, considering this. "You understand that we will continue to abstain unless you want to marry me, yes?"
"Yeah, I can do that. I just… need a little more time to be sure about this. You got all your," Dean waves his hand in front of Cas in a vague way, "mojo stuff, but I don't. Plus, I got a lot of questions still."
"Questions?"
"Yeah. You didn't exactly explain how all of this works, and there's like questions about my…" Dean looks around the cafe to make sure no one is listening to them. He's embarrassed and a little freaked out to find half the customers surreptitiously watching them. Of course, Cas is a big reason half these people come in. Why wouldn't they be interested? "…job. And uh… other stuff. That I'd rather not talk about with an audience."
Cas looks around as if he hadn't realized everyone was listening either. Most of the customers look quickly away, but some of the older ones look stubbornly back at him. A few of the old ladies smile. "I suppose you're right. Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?"
"Yeah," Dean says, too quickly. It isn't just that he fucking loves Cas' cooking. He's missed spending time with him, talking to him, making him laugh.
"Very well, then. I have to get back to work. Are you eating?"
"Yeah, of course." Cas points to a table in the corner, but Dean pulls him back in by the elbow to kiss him before he can turn away. When they part, Cas is smiling again and his natural glow is back. He nudges Dean towards the table he indicated and turns to get back to work. Dean can't take his eyes off him for the rest of the time he's there.
-
Dean has never loved a piece of furniture more than he loves Castiel's couch. It's a large, over-stuffed thing made of soft leather and curling up on it is like lounging on a cloud. Dean feels relaxed and fat from the awesome pot pie they made together for dinner, feet propped up on an ottoman. Cas hands him a beer and settles into the cushion next to him, resting his head back against Dean's arm. Dean reaches up and combs his fingers through Cas' soft hair.
Cas looks up at him, eyes scanning Dean's face. "You said we had things to talk about."
Dean had been hoping they could postpone this for at least a few more hours. He likes just being with Cas without having to think about anything, and this was going to be a hard talk. "Yeah, I uh… I got questions about the unicorn thing."
Cas shifts around, pulling his feet onto to couch to rest on the other side of Dean's lap so they are facing each other. "Ask me anything you like. I don't want you to have doubts if you decide to mate with me."
Might as well start with the obvious. "That, the mating thing, what does that mean?"
"We form a profound spiritual bond through intercourse."
Dean clears his throat, takes a deep breath. That sounds fucking terrifying, but he's Dean Winchester. He can deal. "That's kind of intense. Once we do that, it's permanent? We decide we can't stand each other in a year, we're still stuck together?"
Cas frowns, the little crease between his eyebrows appearing. "Do you think you will tire of me in a year?"
"No? That doesn't mean it can't happen. Do you know what you'll be doing next year?"
"If you agree to this mating, I will be with you."
"Hunting? 'Cause I'm not gonna stop doing that. Too many things out there killin' people."
"While I disagree with some of the more ruthless behaviors I have witnessed hunters partake in, I do not disagree with the concept. I personally cannot kill. Taking a life would be detrimental to my power, as well as my health. I could heal victims, though, and I can sense the presence of other supernatural beings." He pauses, looks off towards his bookcases with his bottom lip set between his teeth. "I might travel with you a week out of the month and stay home the other three, if that would be acceptable?"
"If that's what you want to do, Cas, that's fine with me. I'm not gonna stop killing evil things. That a problem?"
"No, it should not be. I don't know if any of my ancestors have ever mated a hunter, but my sister Hester married a Union soldier and never seemed to have any problems when he was on the war front."
This gives Dean pause. "Your sister?"
"Yes, I have many siblings."
"You never mentioned them."
"All but one are gone."
Dean blanches. Losing your parents young is one thing, but your whole family? If he's honest, he still isn't over his mother's death. Losing his dad a few years ago had been less devastating, but still hard. Dean can't imagine losing Sammy, too. "Was there an… accident?"
Cas looks confused, then understanding spreads over his face. "Oh, no, they did not all die at once. My species is… long-living. We grow to maturity at the same rate as human children, but once we reach our mid-twenties, we stop aging until we have mated."
"Huh?"
Cas sets his beer down on the cabinet behind the couch and faces Dean with a serious look. "What year would you guess I was born?"
"'80?"
"Which '80?"
"19…?"
Castiel gives him a patient smile, shaking his head. "As flattering as that is, I am afraid I am far, far older. I was born in what is now Russia around 200 BC."
Dean blinks. Blinks again.
"Dean?" Cas prompts.
"Did you just… are you… I don't… What?" he finally manages, the concept a little too much for his brain to make sense of.
"It is a lot to take in, I understand."
Dean nods, still unable to form a complete sentence. "How…?"
"How what? How old am I? How have I lived this long? How did I come to America? There are a lot of hows."
Dean glares. "Don't be a dick. This is… a lot. Fuck." Dean rubs at his face, leans his forehead on Cas' knee, tries to gather his scattered thoughts. "So you're really fuckin' old?"
"Yes."
"You stop aging until you mate. How does that work?"
"I'm not entirely certain I know. Something in our biology, perhaps a hormone exchanged during intercourse, restarts the aging process. Once a unicorn finds a mate, he or she ages, and eventually dies, with their partner."
Dean sits up at that. "Wait, so if you and I do this, you'll die when I do?"
"Not at the exact moment, no, but within a reasonable proximity. Once a mating has taken place, a unicorn's life continues in the same natural progression as a human's. We do not get sick as a human might, but neither does our mate. The most common death is old age."
"If you don't… mate… would you live forever?"
"Theoretically, yes. I would probably commit suicide long before the end of time, though. I do not wish to live for eternity."
"But you'd be giving it up to be with me?"
Cas sighs, eyes narrowing. "Yes, but I do not see it as giving anything up. My family has mostly gone. I and my sister Hannah are the only two left of a long line, and Hannah decided to take her own path a long time ago. I am more than ready to live a happy lifetime with you and finally meet my rest at the end of it."
"That's insane, Cas. I'm not worth it."
Cas rests his hands on either side of Dean's face and looks him directly in the eyes. "You are worth a thousand lifetimes. Being with you has made me happier than two millennia of being alone. I knew the moment I saw you that I would gladly give up two more to spend even a day longer in your presence."
The enormity of what Cas is telling him hits him like a brick wall, knocking the breath from him. He wants to argue, but Cas doesn't look like he will accept any arguments. Instead, he leans over and kisses him. Cas returns the kiss with enthusiasm, lifting up to straddle Dean's waist. Dean smooths his hands down Cas' back, feeling the lean muscles, pulling him closer. Dean wants to treat him like porcelain, like the precious being he is, but Cas doesn't let him. He pushes his way into Dean's mouth, fingers digging into Dean's hair to tug him ever closer. Dean groans, pulls Cas' hips hard against his own. A nudge here, a pull there, and he has Cas on his back, spread out across the couch with Dean sprawled over him, exchanging kisses and heated, panting breaths. He pulls up a little, looks into Cas' deep, beautiful blue eyes. "You scare the shit out of me, you know that?"
Cas traces patterns over his shoulders with a little smile. "I don't see you running away."
Dean growls, "I don't run," and attacks Cas' mouth again.
-
Now that all their cards are on the table, being with Cas is even more interesting. He talks a lot about his life pre-Dean. About living a nomadic life in early Europe before there was such a thing as Europe, watching the rise and fall of empires, adjusting to changing society. He talks a little about early life with his parents, but there isn't much he remembers. Dean finds out that he speaks 36 languages fluently. That he met Michelangelo, saw several plays at the Globe during Shakespeare's time, worked as a chef for Napoleon.
"I built this house," he says one day while they're sitting on the porch swing, drinking lemonade Cas squeezed earlier that day.
"You what?"
"I built this house in 1810. I've remodeled it several times, obviously."
"Are you saying all those pictures in your front hall are of you?" Dean asks.
Cas gives him a look. "Who did you think they were of? I told you I've lived a long life."
"I don't know. I guess I didn't think about it."
"I also have homes in Maine, Washington state, California, Texas, Kansas, and Louisiana. I move between them every fifteen years or so, whenever the community starts to notice that I don't age."
"Are you rich or something?"
Cas frowns, looks down at his half-empty glass. "I suppose. I've had a long time to build wealth and never had much interest in using it. Material things are just that, after all. Just things. People are more important to me."
"You go anywhere else?"
"I have a house in Paris. One in the English countryside. Barcelona, Oslo, one in a tiny village high up in the Andes in Peru."
Dean is having a difficult time wrapping his head around all this. He rocks the swing with his feet and listens to the crickets chirping. He has had to scrimp and fight for every dollar to his name for his entire life, and still has nothing to show for it except his baby. To him, she's priceless, but to the market, she's worth maybe thirty-five thousand. Not much. Not twenty-some houses all over the world and a bank account to match.
"And you'd give all that up just for me?"
Cas lifts his head from Dean's shoulder, gives him a long, steady look. "There isn't much use for any of it without a mate, Dean. My parents and most of my siblings are long dead. The nieces and nephews I have left are scattered across the globe. I have spent my life watching everyone around me build their lives with the people they love, watched them die. I am ready to have a family of my own, build a life with my mate, enjoy that life, and then be done when it is over."
Dean doesn't answer right away. It takes him a while to form a reply. Watching your entire family live long happy lives, then die, had to be hard. He knows what it's like to feel like you've been left behind, abandoned, lonely. He doesn't want that for Cas. Cas deserves to be happy, to be loved, he does. Dean just doesn't think that he is worthy enough to give Cas that. "You want to start a family, huh? Like kids?"
"I would like to, yes." When Dean doesn't reply right away, a stricken look comes over Cas' face. "Do you not want children, Dean?"
The truth is, Dean's heart is already hammering in his chest at the thought, but he doesn't want Cas to know that. "I uh… never really thought about it, I guess. I'm not exactly the reliable-parent type adoption agencies look for."
Cas tilts his head to the side with that adorable squint of his. "Our children would not need to be adopted. I am capable of bearing."
A thin layer of sweat had spread over his skin at the words 'our children'. He can feel himself get short of breath and his head begins to fill with white noise at the rest. I am capable of bearing. Our children. I am capable of bearing. Our children. Our children. Our children. Cas' voice gets louder and louder in his head, repeating like a terrifying mantra. He grips the arm of the porch swing in a white-knuckled grip and fights the panic, keeps it off his face, remembers to keep rocking the swing. He has done this before, held an attack at bay in the face of a creature set to kill him. He can do it for Cas.
But Cas is squeezing his knee, looking at him with a soft-browed concern, and Dean realizes his mistake. He can't hide this from Cas. He never had a chance of hiding it. Cas can sense his panic like he can smell dinner cooking. Suddenly, the reality of what they've been talking about, what all this mating and life-building would actually mean, and he can't do it. It is asking too much. Dean isn't capable of any level of responsibility, let alone…
He stands up, forcing the swing to rock back so hard that it knocks into the side of the house, makes Cas spill his lemonade all over his pants. Dean is too focused on getting away to apologize, even though the guilt is eating away at his already suffocating throat. He needs air, needs to breathe. "I uh… I gotta go… Do something." He stumbles back into the railing, turns to glare at it for the betrayal of being in his way.
Cas stands as well, brushing what he can of the lemonade from his shorts, looking up and right into Dean's soul with doe-eyed concern. "I thought you didn't have any cases at the moment."
"I uh, I got a call from Bobby this morning. There's a hunt in West Virginia. Vampires, he thinks. I was gonna let it go, but people are probably going to die. I have to go." He makes it off the porch, followed closely by Cas.
"When will you be back?"
"I uh… I don't know. Don't know how long it'll take." He backs his way to the car, fumbling in his pocket for his keys as he trips over rocks and lumpy earth, trying to get as far from Cas as possible. Cas tries to get closer, but Dean unlocks the car and gets the door between them. "I'll see you later, okay?"
Cas looks like a wilted flower. "I don't even get a goodbye kiss?"
Guilt pools in his stomach, churning with the nervous panic. The mantra is still playing in his head. Our children. I am capable of bearing. Our children. Our children. Our children. He leans over the car door and presses a quick, chaste kiss to Cas' chapped lips. "I'll call you."
He pulls away to the picture of a pale, frowning Cas hunched over, hugging his arms around his middle, watching after him in the driveway. Dean doesn't think about it, not when he turns the block, not when he gets to the motel and grabs all his stuff. Not when he leaves town for the second time with no clear idea of where he's going. He calls Bobby on the road, looking for a case. Looking for an escape. Bobby doesn't disappoint.
-
A Florida alligator the size of an elephant stalking the Everglades.
14 missed calls. 35 unanswered texts from Cas.
A homicidal teen ghost in New York City.
8 missed calls. 15 unanswered texts.
A werewolf in Austin.
2 missed calls. 4 unanswered texts.
A Scandanavian forest god in Kalamazoo.
0 missed calls. 1 unanswered text.
Three salt-and-burns in Louisiana.
0 missed calls. 0 unanswered texts.
A woman in white in Detroit. A bunch of sick kids sucked dry by a ghost in Springfield, Massachusetts. A gnawed up body washed up in South Carolina, creature unknown.
0 missed calls. 0 unanswered texts.
-
Dean is in the middle of burying a body in a hole in the backwoods behind some abandoned farm house in South Dakota when Sam calls. He has to brush his hands off three times before the touch screen will let him swipe. "Sammy? Long time no talk."
"Hey Dean, how are you?" Sam sounds like he's grinning on the other end, but he also sounds far away in a way that makes Dean think he's probably on speaker phone.
"Covered in dirt, knee-deep in a hole. You?"
"Uh, good. Great even."
Dean narrows his eyes. "What's going on? You sound way too happy."
Sam chuckles. "Yeah, a lot’s going on." Yeah, the idiot's definitely grinning. "I've got Jess here with me. You uh, you mind switching to Facetime?"
Dean glances at the garbage bags near his head, full of torched Rugaru, and turns to face away from it, hits the button on his phone to connect to the app. Thankfully, there's enough shade for him to see Sammy and Jess, heads close together to fit in the screen. They both look over the moon. Jess is as stunning as usual, curly hair soft and smooth around her shoulders. "Hey beautiful," Dean greets her.
"Hi Dean."
"So what's the occasion?"
"We have some news we wanted to share with you," Jess tells him, giving Sam a conspiratorial smile.
"Oh?"
She holds up a shiny black sheet of plastic, but Dean's screen is too dark to make out what it is. He squints, jacks up the brightness, sees a blurry image. "Is that…"
"Meet your new niece or nephew, Uncle Dean!" Sam exclaims. Dean is stunned, unable to say anything. Uncle? Did that mean Jess was…
"Holy shit."
"I know, right?" Jess lowers the picture from the camera to reveal she and Sam both beaming.
"Congratulations! That's awesome!" Dean's heart is pounding and his mind won't stop shouting. He's going to be an uncle. He never even considered the thought before now, but he cannot wait for the little poop factory to show up.
"Thank you. We wanted to tell you in person, but we had no idea how long it would be before you made it back to California."
"I'll be there in two days. We gotta celebrate. Man, I didn't even know you guys were tryin'."
"We wanted to keep it a secret until it took," Sam explains.
"I'm so happy for you guys. This is awesome."
"Thank you," Jess says, and Dean can tell she's glowing with happiness even through the screen. "Are you really planning to come? I'll get the guest room ready for you."
"Yeah, 'course. I'm in Nebraska right now, but I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Will you be bringing a… guest?" Sam asks, a hesitant look on his face.
"No, I uh…. Cas and I didn't work out."
"Oh, okay, I was just, you know, wondering."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Dean. Sam said you really liked him."
"Yeah, well, not really the monogamous type, you know? Don't worry about it. I'll see you two—sorry, three in a couple days, okay?" He forces a grin, but his heart is aching like a dull throb in his chest.
Jess brightens up again. "Can't wait."
"See you soon, Dean." Dean ends the call, drops the hand holding the phone to his side. He stares off into the middle distance for a long time, trying not to think about the excited grin Cas would have gotten when Dean told him about the new baby. They wouldn't have worked out. He would have just ended up hurting him. Things are better this way.
Dean gets fed up with himself and his moping and grabs the shovel again, working with even more determination to get this hole dug and this body buried.
-
He's in California the next night.
"Dean!" Jess greets him, running into his arms. He picks her up and swings her around, grinning. Sammy comes down the walk at a more sedate pace, but his smile is just as big.
"You don't feel like you've got another person in there. You sure you're pregnant?" Dean asks when he sets her down. She smacks his arm and laughs, stepping aside so that Sam can get his hug in.
"Come inside. I made you a pie," she says, music to his ears.
Dean grins as he shoulders his duffel. "You are a woman after my own heart. Show me where the pie is." He drapes his free arm around her shoulders and lets her lead him into the house.
Later, Sam and Dean end up on the couch, two beers between them, Jess long in bed—'Stupid pregnancy. I'm exhausted all the time now.'
"I gotta tell you, Sammy, you got a sweet life here. Mom and Dad woulda been proud of you."
Dean hadn't meant it to be mushy, but Sam still looks touched. "Thanks. I'm pretty proud of what I've got, too." He looks down at the beer in his hands, asks the question Dean would rather he not. "So uh… what happened with the uh… unicorn guy?"
"Nothing, man, just wasn't for me."
"What wasn't? You were all 'I don't think I want to live without him' the last time you called. What happened?"
"I…" Dean fumbles for the words. How does he explain it all without sounding like a selfish asshole? In the end he decides that he can't. "It was too much, man. Do you know how old he is?"
"No, you didn't tell me."
"Almost 2000. He isn't even sure what year he was born, just a rough estimate."
Sam is silent, but the size of his pupils tells Dean what he thinks of that. "Yeah. And he…" Dean frowns. This one is harder. "He said he can have kids. Like himself. Like Jess. Only he's a dude."
Again, no comment from Sam.
"And he wants to have them. With me. Me. With kids. That's insane."
Sam is watching him now. He has the steady, concentrated gaze he used to get when he talked to victims or witnesses. Probably still gets with his clients. Dean can't help but keep talking. "He's rich, too. Like really fucking rich. And he could live forever if he wanted to. He says that's not what he wants, but I'm not gonna take that away from him. He's got too much going for him. I'm just gonna end up fucking it all up for him."
"How would you be taking anything away from him?"
"Unicorns don't age once they hit like twenty-five until they find someone to mate with. If we don't… do the thing, he could stay young and healthy forever."
"But you said that isn't what he wants."
"He says that's not what he wants, but come on. I'm not gonna be the reason he dies."
"Even if that's what he wants?"
"Yeah."
"Would you want him to make that decision for you?"
Dean scowls, swallows down the rest of his beer. "Stop psychoanalyzing me. You aren't a shrink."
Sam sighs, rubs at his mouth. "Fine, whatever, Dean. Just sounds like you're being a stubborn asshole when you really want to be with this guy."
"Shut up, Sammy. I'm getting another beer." He gets up from the couch, taking his bottle with him. He finds his way to Sam's fancy high-end kitchen with shiny stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops and an actual espresso machine. As nice as it is, it just serves as another reminder of how far down the pecking order Dean really is. Cas deserves so much better than him. He skips the beer and digs through the liquor cabinet for the whiskey, pours himself a full tumbler of the nicest stuff he can find.
When he comes back to the family room, they talk about something else.
-
The next morning, Dean helps Jess make pancakes while Sam works on paperwork in his office. She's aglow with pregnancy, even more smiley than usual, even though she looks exhausted. "So, we hopin' for a little girl or a little boy?" he asks as he whisks the batter for her.
"Either would be wonderful. I'm just excited to meet him or her." She leans into his shoulder to confess, "I think Sam secretly wants a little girl to spoil."
"A little girl with your gorgeous eyes and Sammy's goofy grin? Sounds awesome to me."
She takes the bowl from him, starts dripping the batter onto the hot griddle. The sizzle of it hitting the grease fills the kitchen, reminds him of mornings with Cas. Grumpy Cas who never wanted to talk before his first cup of coffee, but was always open to a kiss or four pressed up against the counter.
Dean blinks, shakes himself of the thought, but the ache of the memory still takes up space in his chest.
When Sam comes in for breakfast, he has eyes only for Jess, touching her, making her giggle. They're a bright, happy couple. A family. Watching it makes the ache worse.
When Sam kisses Jess goodbye after breakfast so he can head into the office, the look of adoration in his eyes is too much for Dean. He looks away, but not before glimpsing Sam's hand trace over her stomach, just starting to show signs of a bump.
Dean helps with laundry, listens to Jess' stories about her coworkers at the hospital, laughs. In the back of his mind, a constant slide-show of moments with Cas taunts him, drags him down, distracts him. Cas in his bathrobe, frowning over eggs. Cas curled up on the couch with tea in his bee pajamas. Cas wet and warm in the lake, splashing at Dean and giggling when he got caught up in a kiss. Cas. Cas. Cas.
"You seem distracted. What's going on in that dysfunctional head of yours?" Jess asks, interrupting his thoughts.
He frowns. "I'm not dysfunctional."
"Dean."
Dean looks at his hands, unable to return her gaze. It always reminds him of how his mom used to look at him when he took one too many cookies. "I was just thinking about Cas."
"The guy you were seeing?"
Dean nods.
She gets a look in her eyes that Dean can't figure out, a combination of knowing and mischievous that he hasn't gotten from her yet. He isn't sure he likes it, either. "You should go and see him. If you're thinking about him, you obviously like him."
"That wasn't the problem," Dean mutters, turning away from her to snap a towel flat so he can fold it the way she showed him.
"Then what is? Your job? Sam made it sound like maybe he was okay with it?" Considering Jess still doesn't know anything about hunting, Dean isn't going to go down that rabbit hole with her. Sam would kill him.
"No, not that. Well, it was part of it." There's quiet, but it's thick with the pressure to keep speaking, to confess. Jess has always been able to get things out of him better than anyone he's ever met. Dean huffs, snaps the towel again. "I'm no good for him, Jess. He's like this perfect person, and I'm just… a fuckin' train wreck, excuse my language." He darts her a look, but she just rolls her eyes and snorts at his concern.
"I'm not made of porcelain, and neither is this guy. You are a wonderful person, Dean. You care fiercely for your family. You're smart, brave. You're going to make one hell of a father one day, if the way you raised Sam is any indication."
Dean frowns at her. "I didn't raise Sam."
"Oh please, like I haven't heard how neglectful your father was. I know he used to leave you two alone for days and weeks at a time. You were the stable influence in Sam's life. You made sure he was fed. You put the Band-Aids on his scrapes and bruises. You made sure he got to school on time, did his homework. You went to his games. You supported him. And you're going to use all of that training to raise the best kids, I know it." She leans over a mountain of t-shirts to kiss his cheek.
Dean is a ball of embarrassment, but he nods. "Thanks, Jess."
"Of course. Now, about this guy. Are you going to go back to Pontiac and confess that you're in love with him or what?"
Dean snorts, setting the folded towel on top of a pile. "I'm not in love with him."
"Sure you aren't." Something about the way she says it brooks no argument. They fold in peace for a while until Sam calls to check in ten minutes later.
That night, Dean lays in bed thumbing through his phone. He stops when he sees Castiel's name, bolded with a little icon that tells him he has fifty-five unread texts and almost as many voicemails. He clicks on the name without thought. A long string of messages scroll past his eyes, settling on the latest message, Castiel's last.
Cas : It has been three months since I last spoke with you. I don't know why I keep sending these, expecting to get a reply. I suppose it is time I take the hint you have left me. I will always love you. I hope to see you again one day. Until then, I hope you have a wonderful life. Love, Castiel
It is dated three months prior. Dean's heart sinks through him, through the mattress, down through the floor. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe, but there is suddenly no air. He needs Cas, needs to hold him, apologize to him, make this right. He scrolls through the rest of the messages, but they are just a jumble of desperate questions, sadness, and heartbreak. He gets up, dropping the phone from his trembling hand. Goes to the window, opens it, takes deep lungfuls of fresh air from the outside. It doesn't help. Even the quiet of the night and the crickets chirping isn't enough to sooth his troubled heart.
He turns back into the room, goes to the closet and pulls out his duffel, starts stuffing his things inside.
It's late, and both Sam and Jess are long in bed. He scribbles a note on the chalkboard next to the weekly meal planner Jess has set up and leaves as quietly as possible. He plans to text Sam in the morning when he needs to refuel, hopefully somewhere in Nevada.
-
Dean goes to the house first, but no one is home. He goes to the diner next, figuring Cas must be at work. He isn't, and when Dean walks in the door, most of the people in the room give him dirty looks. Mrs. Pierce tries to hit him with her purse. One of the other waitresses, Tracy, intervenes and points at the door. "You aren't welcome here."
Dean is surprised, but it isn't the first time he's been kicked out of a place, so he rolls with it, holds his hands up in protest. "Sorry, look, I know I fucked up with Cas. I'm trying to find him so I can make it right. Where is he? I already tried his house."
"He moved away two months ago. You broke his heart. He couldn't be here anymore, said everything reminded him of you."
Static bursts in Dean's head. "He moved? Do you know where he went? I have to find him."
"I'm not telling you. Get out of here, leave him alone." She shoves him towards the door with no regard for how much larger he is than her. He only moves out of guilt, not because she is stronger than him. When he reaches the car, he pulls out his phone, tries Cas' number.
"The number you have dialed is no longer in service…" a machine tells him. He slams the phone on the hood of his car, the heavy-duty case he has it in the only thing stopping it from shattering. "Fuck!" he shouts, kicking at one of his tires. He takes a few breaths, tries to calm down, to think.
He calls Sam, because what else is he going to do? "Dean? You okay? You left without saying goodbye, and that note didn't make any sense," Sam greets him.
"I went to find Cas. I'm in Pontiac right now, but he's not. He moved. I need you to help me find him."
There's a long pause. "Dude, are you serious right now?" Sam asks.
"I don't have time for your shit, Sam. I fucked up. I gotta find him."
"You're a hunter. You can't find a forwarding address?"
Dean pauses in opening the car door. Oh. Duh. "Of course I can. I just… forgot."
Sam snorts into the phone. "You're an idiot."
"Shut up. I gotta go."
"Uh huh, go find your unicorn. Keep me posted if you find him." The phone clicks off, and Dean pulls out his laptop from the back seat, powers it up. He parked close enough to the diner to get a wifi signal. He does his digging, but before he can find anything, there's a loud bang that rattles the car. He looks through the windshield to find a huge glaring man standing in front of his car. He recognizes the man as one of the diner regulars and one of Cas' favorite customers.
"You're the reason I don't get my mini muffins. Get out before I knock you out," the man snarls. Dean does as he's told.
-
When Dean finds Cas, he's in Seattle. It's a step down from the cafe. It's about twenty steps down, if he's honest. It's on a dirty back street surrounded by liquor stores and half-abandoned churches. Dean can't imagine his glowing, happy little unicorn within three hundred feet of it, but he sees a fluffy head of black hair when he looks through the window. He'd recognize that messy head anywhere. Dean looks through the window for a while, taking in the changes of his lover. And there are changes, quite a few, none of them good. Cas has lost weight, enough to look gaunt. He's pale, sad-eyed. Even his skin looks dull and lifeless. All of the life and vitality that Dean loves about him, all of his enthusiasm, all of his light. Gone—Not gone. Stolen. By Dean.
Dean clenches a fist, grinds his teeth, silently hating himself. If he hadn't been such a chicken-shit, this never would have happened. Cas would be in Pontiac, the happy, healthy perfect being he ought to be. Dean almost considers walking away, letting Cas get past this, past him, and back to a healthy place. But he can't. He knows he can't live without Cas, even if he doesn't deserve him.
Decision made, Dean slips into the diner quietly, taking a seat at a table he hopes is in Cas' section. Cas hasn't seen him yet, busy taking the orders of a family of five three tables away. He looks exhausted up close, but he forces a smile at the family as he writes down their orders. The pink apron he used to wear has been replaced by a dingy black one that looks like it could use a wash or three. He thanks them and lets them know how long it should be. When he turns towards Dean's table, he isn't looking up. He approaches, lifts his order pad, still without looking up.
"My name is Castiel. What can I get you today?"
Dean has been thinking about what he might say when he found Cas, rehearsed it a hundred times in the car. But now that Cas is standing in front of him, all he can do is stare. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. "You got any pie?" The words spill out before he can stop himself. Cas looks up, body frozen in place. When his eyes connect with Dean's, they take Dean's breath away.
"Dean? What are you doing here?"
"I was planning on grovelling if that's okay with you."
"You... What?"
Dean stands, rests a hand on Cas' elbow. "I came looking for you. I've been an asshole to you, and I wanted to apologize."
"Apologize?" Cas looks lost, searching Dean's face for answers that don't seem to be showing themselves.
"Yeah. I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did. I should have talked to you. I'm a dick, and I hurt you, and I'm sorry."
"That's… um… it's alright. I understand. You didn't want to be with me."
"No, that wasn't…. Fuck, Cas, I was scared shitless by you. I ran away like a little kid. I want to be with you. I want to have the family, the kids. Hell, I'll even build you a picket fence if you want."
"Why would I want a picket fence?"
"It doesn't matter. I love you, and I've been a dick about it. I want to be with you, mate you, marry you, whatever you want to call it. I'll get you a ring, we'll go to the courthouse. Whatever you want. I just don't want to wake up one more morning without you sleeping next to me ever again."
Cas is quiet, staring intently at Dean. "You love me?"
Dean nods fervently, pulling Cas closer by the elbow. "I love you so fucking much."
The smile that blooms over Cas' face is like looking at the face of God. A faint glow starts in his eyes and grows to surround his whole body as he wraps his arms around Dean's neck and pulls him into a kiss. Dean slides his arms tight around Cas' waist, grinning into the kiss. It is dizzying, so good he hears actual angels singing in his head. When they pull away, everyone in the restaurant is staring at them and Cas is shining like a beacon. Dean's too happy to care. He pulls him in for another kiss, happy for the first time in a long time.