He said it.
He finally freaking said it.
He, Dean Michael Beckett, finally manned up and told Castiel how he felt.
And he feels like he’s going to die.
Because Cas is giving his this look like he can’t actually believe that Dean likes him in that way and he has yet to actually say something and Dean knows that if Cas doesn’t open his mouth in the next five seconds, Dean might just actually die, cause the fucking anticipation is killing him.
But then the angel does say something, even if it’s only a simple “why”.
Dean laughs, he doesn’t mean to, but he’s just been so tied up in knots ever since he decided that he was going to spew his feelings at someone that was planning to go off and die the very next day, that laughter seems like the only real option at this point.
So he laughs and pulls Cas closer to him to show him exactly why he’s head over fucking heels in love with him.
Scratch that, John does get to meet Dean.
And the meeting doesn’t exactly go as he imagined it.
It’s in this little cafe off of Broadway, he sees Dean rushing in there, grinning when he realizes that there’s not a line. So John takes his chance when the boy, no wait, man, cause as hard as it is for him to admit that, Dean is a man now, has been for a while.
But Dean just stares at him, stares at him like he’s not worth the dirt beneath his feet.
And that stings.
“You know, Cas was right.” That gets John’s attention and he thinks that nothing, absolutely nothing will stop him from going and clobbering that angel if he poisoned Dean against him before he ever really got the chance to meet him. “I’m nothing like what you expect. You’re still seeing a little boy who when you say ‘jump’, he asks how high. And I’m not him.” John swallows, he never really thought about it like that, he frankly didn’t want to. But hearing Dean say it, well, kind of forces him to.
“Dean, you have to know, I only wanted what was best for you and your brother.” Dean snorts.
“Yeah, and you ended up with the apocalypse. I think that kind of fucks those good intentions right to hell.” John doesn’t get a chance to say anything, cause right then, someone yells for Dean. They both turn around and see a woman with long blondish-brown hair, waving her arm and motioning for Dean to come over to her. He nods before turning back to John. “Now I have to go because my sister is summoning me. And do me a favor. Never try contacting me again. I may be your son by blood, but in everything else, I am a Beckett.”
Dean turns on his heel then and jogs over to the woman, picking her up in a bear hug which leads to her hitting him once or twice before he drops her and greets two of the guys that are with her in the same manner, which leads to more smacks that he just brushes off like they’re routine.
And John just stands there and watches and feels angry, but no, not at Dean.
But at himself.
Sometimes the weight of all the things that he’s done catches up to him.
When that happens, he usually finds himself at some beach somewhere, drinking until he wants to puke. Dean never says anything when he comes back hours later, clearly hungover and feeling like shit for ducking out in the first place, the author just comes over to him and places a kiss to his forehead, ignoring that fact that he’s trembling and shaking, expecting to be yelled at for making him worry.
But it never happens.
So he just heads to their room and cleans up, before coming back out and wrapping himself around Dean, a silent apology for taking off the way he did.
And Dean forgives him every time.
Dean may never realize it, but he is a flame in human form.
It’s been years since Castiel fell and became human, but he never stops thinking about how if Dean knew his real potential, he could probably set the world on fire.
But instead, Dean takes all that potential and filters it into his writing, his family, and his unending love for an angel that toppled from the very ranks of Heaven to be with him.
And for that, Cas is grateful.
He is grateful that he will never have to watch Dean become that hollow and empty version of himself that believed that he didn’t deserved to be saved.
He is grateful that Dean knows how to smile, knows how to love, and knows how to be loved.
He is grateful that instead of being put out by the universe and all the injustice that is heaped upon him, Dean has become a fire that will only continue to grow.
And that makes Cas smiles.
Because he fell in love with a flame.
And he knows that this time, he won’t get burned.
It’s still early, too early to be up really, but Dean was anyways. He blinked a few more times before looking at the dark-haired lump next to him. The sun was still rising up over the city and had just started to peak in through the window of their room, giving it a hazy look. Smiling at the lump, he brushed a hand through its hair, smile turning into a grin when blue eyes opened just long enough to look at him.
“It’s too early to be up. Go back to bed.” Dean chucked, hand resting on the nape of Castiel’s neck.
“You know, Kate’s probably awake right now.” Cas snorted.
“Your sister catches murders for a living, she doesn’t count.” Dean rolled his eyes, but snuggled back down into his pillows, hand still on Cas.
“You know I love you, right?” Cas nodded.
“I do,” He leaned over into Dean’s personal space to give him a quick kiss. “But I’m going back to sleep like a normal human being.” Dean laughed and kissed him again.
“Yeah, yeah, go back to sleep. Cause god forbid you actually wake up before noon.” Cas didn’t say anything, just snuggled closer to Dean’s side and fell back asleep. Dean didn’t though, he stayed awake, hand in Cas’s hair and watched the sun come up over the city and thought about how ridiculously lucky he was that this was his life.
Winter in Manhattan could easily be the name of a romance novel, Dean thinks, as he trudges through the blowing snow. But in all reality, it would be some mash of horror and romance, cause this, this wet and sticky mess that’s getting all over him, is the stuff that nightmares are made of.
Unless your name is Castiel of course.
Someone should’ve warned Dean that getting into a romantic relationship with a former angel would involve stopping every five minutes while trying to get home during the worst snowstorm that the city has seen in years, all because said angel is oddly fascinated by the snow.
“Cas! Can we go? I’m losing feeling in most of my limbs!” Cas looks away from the falling snow and nods, jogging as best he can to catch up with Dean, throwing his arms around his waist and burrowing into his side when he does.
“I’m sorry, this is just the first real winter I’ve ever got to experience.” Dean nods and presses a kiss to the ex-angel’s forehead.
“I know, and we’ve got plenty more to go.”
It all starts the night that Dean Winchester is given into the custody of the Beckett family.
He’s quiet, the shock of the past few days still haven’t worn off and now, he’s being handed over to even more new people. He stands around in their living room, taking in everything he sees and carefully not meeting the eyes of the girl standing next to the other woman. He wonders if she’s like him and has a different parent and that this woman is just watching her for a while.
“Dean.” He looks up at the other woman, who is smiling softly at him, her hand resting on the girl’s head. “This is my daughter, Katie.” He finally looks at the girl, who is also smiling. He tries to smile back, but he can’t, she he just settles for staring at her. “Katie,” The girl looks away from him and up to the other woman. “Why don’t you show Dean to his room?” She nods and looks back at Dean, holding her hand out to him. Dean swallows, but takes her hand, which makes her smile even brighter. Then she tugs on it, heading towards the back of the house and he follows.
He’s still nervous, he still wants his dad and his brother back, but for right now, he’ll follow Kate, cause that just seems to be the right thing to do.
Twenty-one years later, he’s still following her.
Molly is the only one of their kids to ever find out the truth about Castiel.
And really, this doesn’t surprise either of her parents in the slightest.
Molly doesn’t even think of it much at first it, just checking it off as one of those things that make her parents better than everybody else.
But then the Christmas Break of her junior year of college happens and it kind of smacks her out of left field.
Her papa was an angel.
And if her dad’s stories are to be believed, he was a pretty badass angel.
But you never would think it now, when he’s standing here in the kitchen, glasses precariously perched on his face and grumbling angrily at the coffee pot, cause it’s old and refuses to work half the time. Or when he’s curled up in a blanket on the couch, grading exams and yelling at her dad to get him more hot cocoa, cause he’s cold and refuses to move.
But there are other times where is hard to believe that he’s still not that fierce, all-powerful angel of the lord. Like that time when Jordan Rhys followed her home, intending to jump her in front her house. Or that time when a pair of burglars were dumb enough to break in when it was just her and papa and he laid them out flat without even breaking a sweat. Then she can see it, she can see the angel that still lives under his now all too human skin.
And she never asked why he fell, why he willingly gave up only thing he had ever known. But now, as she’s trying to sneak downstairs to grab a bite of leftovers from the huge dinner they had earlier tonight, she thinks she understands why. Cause all it would take is one look at her father’s faces as they dance around the living room for anyone to get why her papa gave up his wings.
He fell for love.
Dean has nightmares too.
They usually involve fire and losing the people he loves the most.
He never actually talks about them, but everyone knows when he’s had one, cause he’ll wake up really pale and instead of writing or going up to his publisher, he’ll find his way to the precinct and loiter around there, until Kate and the boys get called out on a body. He’ll go home after that and curl around Castiel, while the former angel runs a hand through his hair, occasionally leaning down to press kisses to his forehead.
He falls asleep like that on those days, head pillowed on the ex-angel’s lap, with his hand continually running through his hair. And when he wakes up several hours later, disoriented, cause he almost never falls asleep on the couch, he’ll find that the only thing that’s changed about their positions is that Cas is draped over him, like he can still protect him in his dreams. And it makes Dean feel better, cause even though he’s a little broken from it all, he still has the people he loves in his life.
And that’s the only thing that really matters.
The worst nightmare Castiel has after he falls is of Purgatory. He wakes up to Dean hovering over him, hands pressing his shoulders down onto the bed and green eyes full of worry. Cas knows that he’s been crying, he can feel the tear tracks on his cheeks, but the nightmare is so fresh in his mind that he can’t speak, can’t tell Dean what happened.
“Cas, I’m going to let go of your shoulders now, ok?” The ex-angel nods and feels Dean pull back, but the breach of contact doesn’t last as Cas flings himself in the author’s arms, tears falling again.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He’s choked up, the words coming out of his mouth all mangled, but Dean gets what he’s saying as he runs one hand through the former angel’s messy hair, while pressing kisses to his forehead, trying to get him to calm down.
“It’s ok Cas, it’s ok. You fixed it, alright, it didn’t happen. You made sure it didn’t. But it’s ok, I’m here. I’ve got you.” They stay like that for the rest of the night, Dean sitting with his back against the headboard and Castiel curled up in his arms. And in the morning, Cas will insist that they don’t talk about it, so Dean will just shove a plate of pancakes at him with “I <3 U” spelled out in chocolate chips.
Cause Dean knows in the end, it’s the little things that count the most.