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Somehow, Dean had always felt like Sam was perfect. No matter what words Sam had shared with their dad, Sam was always the normal one. Of the three of them he was the only one who could have made a life for himself—a life without angels and demons and vicious gods. So, when Sam had left, Dean almost expected it. Sure, he had been angry. Hurt, even. But more than that, he had been proud of his little brother. He had been proud of the fact that Sam could find some semblance of normalcy.
Come to find, all of that was simply a cruel trick of fate. Now, Dean realized he could have had that life much more easily than his brother. Sam was the one who get never get away. Sam would always be demon blood and darkness and fight. There was no getting away from who he was. And Dean, of course, would stay with his brother. His unspoken oath bound him to this life as well.
Once, although he would never admit it aloud, Dean had been jealous of his brother’s easy ability to step into another life. Dean would never have that. He had tried it and discovered that it did not have the ability to satisfy him. He got what he wanted, and saw that it was not what he craved after all. Whether or not that was because of the people, or the actual life style, Dean had never dared question. Until now, that is.
Now, Dean had ideas. Dean had questions that he could not seem to answer. He had a craving again, to wake up next to the same face every day. Only now, he knew who that face belonged to. And Dean was questioning his loyalty to this way of life. This endless running. He could always die, why not do it with the person he loved holding his hand. But Dean, poor Dean, was having trouble asking his questions. He was afraid to stick his nose where he was sure it didn’t actually belong. These ideas and questions. They wouldn’t go away. Ideas and questions about fate and love and what was wrong and right. And really, he shouldn’t even ask these questions in his head. But everyone was safe, and the world wasn’t crumbling, and Cas was still here. Cas was still here, sitting on the couch next to him. That was important, according to the questions. And the questions had been bouncing around in Dean’s head for so long, trying to get out, that he was exhausted from trying to stop them. And so they slipped and slithered and they fell off his tongue like hopeful little snakes, attempting to make the way for bigger ideas.
“What do angels get for their devotion to God?”
Cas turned away from where he had been staring at the television in confusion. He gave Dean that sillystupidadorable head tilt that made him look like a puppy left in a gutter. “What do you mean, Dean?” He really did seem confused. More confused than the nature show playing on the TV had made him.
“I just…” Now he had to justify it. Great. Stupid questions. “Humans get Heaven. Angels spend an eternity serving God, so it only seems fair they should get something too.”
Cas had known something was bothering Dean, and he could only surmise that this must have been it. He couldn’t help but laugh at the outcome of all that thought. “Are you afraid I’m not going to get any reward for all of… this?” They never talked about it. They both knew; they didn’t need to talk about it.
If Dean had been a girl he would have been resisting the urge to bite his lip. Dean was not a girl. “Not really.” Play it casual. Just like that.
A sigh and Cas wondered if maybe this was actually heading somewhere. He hoped so. “Angels don’t need any reward. We are happy to serve.” He couldn’t interpret Dean’s expression, which was odd. He assumed it was some sort of sadness. “But, Dean. We can also travel to everyone else’s personal Heaven.”
“Dean?”
“Hm?”
“Why are you so curious?”
He refused to answer that. Mostly on the grounds that the only answer he could come up with was one that made him sound like his brother and it would most definitely lead to a chick flick moment. Dean stood up from the couch, shaking his head, and went into the kitchen to get a beer. Never mind that there was a half full one sitting on the coffee table. It was warm. Maybe.
Cas followed him into the kitchen—it seemed like he was always following Dean—so when he turned around it was to find those inhumanstrangefuckingbeautifulperfect blue eyes staring severely at him. Cas always did that when he wanted something. He knew Dean couldn’t stand that look. But Dean still wasn’t answering.
“Dean.” Cas’s tone was serious. AS serious as Dean had ever heard him. As serious as the apocalypse. Dean still wasn’t answering.
“Dean, please.” Concentrating on opening the glass bottle now in his warm hands, Dean willed Cas to go away. A tiny part of his brain, though, was wondering why he had so easily let that question slip out if he didn’t want all of this.
“Dean, whatever is bothering you… I’m here to help.”
He couldn’t help but glance up. And the eyes were still there. And they were pleading. Pleading like they wanted to fix everything. Last time they had looked like that Dean had been crying and accusing. He still wasn’t… What would Cas even say? His reasoning wasn’t even sensical. He didn’t even want Cas to have his own heaven, because then…
“I don’t want to go to heaven unless you can come with me.” It was quiet, and most definitely girly, but Dean had actually said what had been killing him for weeks now. But now that he’d gotten that first admission out, now that he’d let the first drop fall, it suddenly started pouring. And Dean couldn’t control the weather. He was no god. So, the words just kept flowing, as if from nowhere, and Dean momentarily felt like a bystander in his own mind. “I know it’s stupid, but I just can’t picture Heaven without you there. And sometimes I feel like maybe God is some big ass kid pulling a prank on me. Like maybe he actually wants me to want you just so he could make me realize I can’t actually have you because he owns you. And God keeps a tight hold on his possessions, greedy bastard. And then I realize, after all that fucking pining, that I’m just justifying all this bullshit happening in my head by saying God’s just trying to teach me a lesson or some shit. And you’re always saying “God has a plan, Dean.” But what if he doesn’t? What if he doesn’t even care if I fall in love with an angel wearing a stupid coat?” Dean finally managed to stop himself. The words shuddered to a stop, like the engineer had finally found the emergency brake on the crazy train. Half of Dean was still struggling with the fact that all of those words had just come out of his mouth, while accepting the fact that he hadn’t told a single lie in all of that. He hated not being able to lie to Cas. The other half of the snarled mass that was his mind was wishing he could take all of that back. If only he could just swallow up all of those admissions and run off to some dark bar with lots of pretty women that wouldn’t quite distract him.
Cas took a step forward. Dean backed against the counter. As it turned out, that was exactly where Cas wanted him. Which Dean realized the same instant he realized Cas was kissing him. It was a heavy kiss, sloppy and clumsy and every other adjective that could possibly scream virgin. Dean couldn’t care, because every fiber of his being was breathing Cas’s name with every tiny movement.
When Cas pulled away Dean’s lips chased him hungrily, and he seemed to bite back a laugh. “For the record, God does not own me. At least, not anymore.” And then they were kissing again. Dean bit Cas’s bottom lip and grabbed him by the hip and let something very close to relief wash over him.
Just as Dean was considering pushing the angel in his grip towards the nearest bed the screen door slammed to his left. Right. Whichever way was over there. He didn’t care. Dean immediately tried to back up, and ended up half sitting on the low counter. Cas didn’t move, except to turn towards the doorway. Which not only caused him to be standing between Dean’s legs, but made his hip brush against Dean’s inner thigh in an infuriating way. Dean looked towards the door, ready to berate and whine and whatever else he had to do to get Cas alone again, to find his brother staring at him. And Sam, of all things, was smirking.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Unless you want lunch. Then you’ll have to move.”
The lack of surprise from Sam was almost annoying. Dean scrambled for a response, but his brother definitely had the upper hand in this situation. Walking in on your brother making out with another guy sort of did that. But what do you say when you’re brother actually seems to approve? Who knew being in such close proximity to an angel made you lose the ability to come up with witty come backs?
Cas was dragging him away, tugging on his wrist gently as he backed out of the room. And Sam was still smirking like the cat that got the canary. Damn it all.
“Hush, woman. Back to your housework.”
It was barely an insult, and Dean almost tried to come up with something else, but as soon as Cas had him around the corner he was kissing his collar bone in a sloppy, delicious way and Dean found himself unable. Dean pushed Cas towards his bedroom, and pulled him up to abuse his lips. So, when Sam yelled jerk, Dean settled for saying bitch against Cas’s lips as he clumsily closed his bedroom door behind him.