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Dean had thrown the number away. That was the first sign Castiel saw that something was wrong.
The waitress at the little diner they'd stopped at after the hunt was exactly Dean's type. She was certainly beautiful, with long, dark hair and a bright smile. She laughed at all of Dean's jokes and slid him an extra slice of pie– “the kitchen made a mistake,” she’d claimed with a wink– and she’d scrawled her number on the little receipt she’d given Dean.
Dean had offered Cas a bite of his bonus pie, a bite that now sat heavy in Cas’s stomach as he watched Dean’s eyes flicker over the number. But even as he smiled at the waitress as they left, the receipt still ended up in the trash can by the door, number and all.
"What's wrong, Cas?" Dean asked, fishing out the keys of the Impala.
Cas pulled his eyes away from the trash can, catching up to Dean and Sam in the parking lot. "Nothing,” he lied, forcing a smile as he climbed into the Impala's backseat.
Cas watched Dean closely after that. Whatever creature was possessing him seemed to be doing a very good job. It was almost uncanny, the way the creature had managed to adopt Dean's mannerisms. The way he walked, the way he spoke– it was spot-on, almost like the creature had been studying Dean Winchester as long as Castiel had.
But there were little things that were off. Dean didn’t flirt anymore, and he barely even casted a glance at the girls who flirted with him. He let Sam pick the music in the Impala during a roadtrip to a vampire case a few states over. Cas hadn't seen Dean get a drink for himself in two weeks. When he did drink, it was only because Sam handed him one, and even then, it was just one beer.
The final nail in the coffin was the veggie burgers.
"These are for Sam," Dean said, setting down the smaller of two plates, both stacked with fresh patties, "And these are for you and me, Cas."
Dean eagerly took a seat, serving himself a burger. Sam and Cas exchanged confused glances from across the Bunker's dining room table. With only slight suspicion, Sam grabbed a burger party off of his designated plate.
"What do you mean, they're for me?”
Dean snorted. "Well, Cas can do whatever he wants, I guess, but I have no intention of eating veggie patties.
"Veggie patties?" Sam repeated.
Dean shrugged, barely pausing to swallow before answering. " Yeah, the healthy ones you like."
Sam and Cas exchanged glances once again. Dean could barely go a day without teasing Sam about "basically being half- rabbit", and now this? Cas’s eyes drifted down towards the burger Sam was holding, wondering what else it might contain.
Sam took a bite of his burger, and his eyes lit up. "Dude, this is really good."
"Don't sound so surprised. What, don't you trust me?”
No, Castiel didn't. He wasn't sure what was going on but he had the sudden urge to check the Bunker warding. "Dean, can you pass the salt?”
It wasn't Cas's most graceful move, trying to "accidentally" knock the salt shaker onto Dean's lap. Dean jerked at the sudden spray of white, muttering a curse under his breath, but it didn't burn him.
Not a ghost, then. Cas would have to try silver, too, and holy water. Anything to get to the bottom of Dean’s weird behavior.
"I'm sorry, Dean."
"It's okay, Cas, not your fault," Dear replied, brushing the salt off his clothes. He sat back down, making conversation with Sam about Eileen, a topic that had Sam too busy blushing to think about how his brother's body was being puppeteered by some monster.
After dinner, when Sam moved to clear the dishes, Dean quickly intercepted him, saying, "I can get those, don't worry Sam."
Sam cast one last glance at Castiel before relenting, passing off the dishes to Dean and leaving the room. As soon as he was out of sight, Cas stood up, helping Dean stack up the plates.
"I want to help you wash the dishes."
All the silverware in the Bunker was pure silver. All Castiel had to do was slip Dean a fork.
"Sounds great, Cas. I've been meaning to talk to you."
His angel blade a flick of his wrist away, Castiel followed Dean's meat suit into the kitchen.
It was a good thing Dean ended up giving Cas the easy job of drying the dishes, because Cas wasn't actually sure how to wash dishes. Dean, however, seemed to know the exact right thing to do, just like he always did.
"So I was thinking," Dean started. His fingers skated over the pile of silverware, and Castiel stared them down, waiting for Dean's tanned skin to make contact with the shiny silverware. "I don't think we ever offered to decorate your room. I mean, it's always going to be yours, so you should at least be able to paint it."
Dean's hand landed on a plate, dunking it in the warm, soapy water. Castiel dried the dishes obediently as he watched the water, trying not to feel so nervous. This creature was certainly brave to hide out in the Bunker, but Cas knew this place better, and was probably stronger, even if he wasn’t fully powered up. If there was a fight, he’d win– he had to, for Dean.
Tomorrow," Dean continued, thankfully oblivious to Cas’s analytical glare. "I was thinking we could go down to the hardware store, if you wanted. Assuming we don't get a case, I mean."
Dean's fingers brushed against the silverware. Nothing happened. Castiel's heart rate slowed.
"What do you say?" Dean asked, offering Cas a friendly smile.
"That sounds good," Castiel replied automatically, and Dean beamed, turning back to the dishes.
Dean continued talking, something about colors or posters or maybe even a TV (Castiel almost felt bad for tuning out, but he couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from Dean's deft fingers).
By the time Cas was able to slip "Christo" into the conversation, he wasn't even surprised when it had no effect. The mystery of Dean persisted.
It wasn't until Cas was back in his room, picking out a book to red that night, that Dean's words fully registered.
It’s always going to be yours.
Dean wanted him to stay. Cas's stomach became strangely warm at that, as if this shirt was still dripping with soapy water. He thought of sirens– they change their appearance, right? To whatever their victims desired most? The next morning, Cas would have to research how well sirens could mimic real people.
"Hey, Cas it's Jody. Look, I didn't want to ask Sam in case this is yet another Winchester secret, but is everything okay with Dean? I got a weird phone call from him last night... anyway, call me when you get this.”
Cas was ready to replay the voicemail when Dean appeared in his doorway, as if knowing he was on the verge of discovering more about the creature's true intentions.
"You ready to go to the paint store?" Dean asked, leaning up against Cas’s door frame. He was wearing his normal outfit of a plaid shirt and jeans, but he looked…different. Cas couldn’t quite put his finger on it…maybe Dean’s hair was different? It looked neater than it normally was. Was this part of the creature’s plan, or was Castiel just looking for clues?
Jody could wait. Cas needed to know more, and he couldn't pass up a recon opportunity like this. "Yes, Dean, let's go."
Apparently, humans really did have entire stores for hardware, and entire aisles dedicated to tiny pieces of paper with every color possible. It was certainly impressive, if not overwhelming.
"I don't think I've ever done this,” Dean said, almost giddy as he ran his fingers along the colored papers. He pulled one out, holding it up to Castiel's chest. Cas wondered if Dean could feel how fast his heart was beating. "Hey, this one matches your tie perfectly!”
"Thank you, Dean, but I'm not sure if I want my bedroom to remind me of my tie."
Dean put the slip back. "You're right. What's your favorite color, anyway?"
Green, like Dean's eyes. "I've always been fond of yellow."
Dean nodded, pulling out a handful of pale yellow slips, each one a slightly different shade than the other. Cas had never realized humans could differentiate between so many colors like this.
"Like these?"
"Those look lovely, Dean.”
Cas's phone buzzed, and he reached for it immediately. But it wasn't Jody– it was Claire. "Excuse me, Dean. I have to take this."
Claire's breathless ramble filled the speakers almost as soon as Cas answered the phone. “I swear to God, Cas, if you tell anyone I called–”
"Claire, what's wrong?"
"I was gonna ask you that.”
Cas's throat went dry. The creature inside Dean…it hadn't gotten what it wanted from Jody, so it moved on to Claire. “This is about Dean, isn't it?"
"Yeah. He sent me this weird phone call, and it got me worried–”
"What did he say to you? Exact words, if you can remember.”
"He apologized. Like, for killing Randy."
Castiel froze. Dean apologized? It wasn't unheard of for Dean to make an apology after really screwing something up, but what would the creature have to gain from that? “Claire, is Jody there?"
"Yeah, I'll get her for you."
"Cas, did you get my voicemail?" When Jody answered, her voice was filled with concern.
"Yes, and I think there might be something wrong with Dean," Cas said, quickly and quietly, glancing around to ensure Dean hadn't followed him outside. "What did he say to you?"
"He apologized for a ton of stuff, some stuff that wasn't even his fault. He told me that if I ever needed him for anything to just call. I made a joke about having a slow sink, and I swear he was ready to drive to Sioux Falls until he realized I was joking."
Dean was going on an apology tour, then. But what would make him do that? Unless it wasn't a creature inside Dean, but a creature that made a deal with Dean.
"Look, I've seen a lot of guys on their deathbeds, Cas," Jody said, confirming Cas's fears. "A lot of them make amends and apologies. I have to even think it, but is there any chance…?"
Cas thought of Mary– her sudden, magical return. Dean had told him and Sam that Amara had just given Mary back, but what if that wasn't true? "It's certainly possible. Thank you, Jody."
He and Dean returned from the paint store with a handful of slips– mostly different shades of yellow, with some blues and greens and grays thrown in for good measure.
"Cas, why don't you go see how those look against your bed stuff?" Dean said as they arrived at Bunker. "I gotta talk to Sam about something."
So it was Sam's turn for an apology, then. Was it Cas's turn next? What would Dean say? Would he apologize for Cas being forced to rebel against Heaven, apologize for kicking Cas out, apologize for letting Cas die for Dean? Most of those were Cas's choices. And however many apologies Dean thought he owed Cas, Cas was sure he owed just as many back.
But Dean would probably apologize, anyway. Like Jody said, he’d apologize for things that weren’t even really his fault.
He was willing to drive to Sioux Falls to fix Jody's sink. What would he be willing to do for Cas's forgiveness? Would he be willing to-
No, Cas shouldn't even be thinking about Dean doing that. Dean would apologize, or he wouldn't, and Cas would forgive him regardless. He already had. The only thing Cas wanted from Dean was something Dean would never want to give him, unless it was out of pity. So Cas wouldn't even ask.
Dean could do whatever he wanted, and Cas would forgive him, and die for him, and forgive again. But Cas would not let Dean die. Whatever stupid deal Dean had made, Cas would save him, would use his broken wings to fly Dean out of Hell, whatever it took.
"Hey, Cas? Can we talk?”
Cas almost jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice. Dean was leaning up against Cas’s bedroom door again.
Castiel saw bright green eyes and an even brighter soul, and then he saw red. Before Dean could say anything else, Castiel had him pushed up against his bedroom wall, angel blade glinting against Dean’s Adam's apple.
"What the hell, Cas?"
"What deal did you make?" Cas snarled.
"Deal? I didn't make any deal– put me down!"
"The apologies, you stopped flirting, stopped drinking. You changed."
Dean cursed softly. "Of course you noticed that."
"So what'd you sell your soul for? Mary?"
"I didn't sell my soul, Cas. And I'm not dying."
He sounded so sincere. Cas's fingers loosened around the blade, pulling it away from Dean's throat.
"Thanks," Dean said dryly.
"You changed," Cas prompted. He was still determined to get to the bottom of this, even if Dean claimed there was no deal.
Dean sighed. " Yeah, I changed. It was– I'm not dying, okay? It's not about that , it's just..." He let out a bitter laugh. "I didn't realize it would be so hard to say. Words are so much easier to say when you write them down first."
A rush of fondness crashed over Castiel's chest at the idea of Dean poring over a handwritten apology, perfecting it and rehearsing it. "You can tell me anything.”
"I know. And I do want to tell you.” Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I was– I am -- happy that Morn is back, but seeing her again dragged up a lot of feelings about Dad that I thought I'd buried. I mean, he almost drove his whole family away. I wanted to be like him for so many years, but I can't let myself drive my family away. So if that means laying off the beer and apologizing and taking breaks from hunting to look at paint, I'm going to do it."
Cas smiled. Of course Dean would be worried about losing his family. "If there's one thing you've taught me, it's that you Winchesters are stubborn. You couldn't lose your family if you tried."
"And what about you?"
"I'm a Winchester too, aren't I?”
Dean was beaming, saying, "Hell yes, you are!” as he pulled Cas in for a tight hug. Face pressed into the crook of Dean's neck, all Castiel could smell was Dean, an intoxicating blend of leather and something else that was uniquely Dean. When Dean pulled away, he suddenly looked sheepish.
Right, he’d come to say his apologies. Cas was almost scared to hear it.
"Not gonna lie, I had to practice this one in the mirror a few times, because I knew I was gonna forget it as soon as I looked at you."
"You don't have to apologize to me, Dean. I forgive you."
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing his shoe along the ground instead of looking at Cas. "Thing is, Cas, I had something a little different than an apology for you."
"Oh." Cas wasn't sure if that was better or worse. "Continue, then."
Dean cleared his throat. Cas's heart was lodged somewhere in his own throat.
"Right, "Dean said. "Continuing. The thing is, Cas, you....you saved me from Hell. And since then, you've saved my life more times than I can count. But more than that, you taught me that I was worth more than just being Sam's older brother, more than just a hunter. You taught me that I was someone worth saving. And for that, I love you. I'm in love with you. And I don’t expect you to say anything back, obviously, but–”
Cas cut Dean off by smashing their lips together. It was messy and frantic but it was intoxicating, from the taste of Dean's lips to the feeling of his rough, calloused hands trailing down Cas's body.
"I love you, too," Cas said as he pulled away, eyes scanning Dean’s face, trying to map out every inch of freckled skin and sparkling green eyes and pink lips.
“Clearly,” Dean joked lamely, his eyes trained shamelessly on Cas's lips. "You really like pushing me up against walls, don't you?"
Cas hadn't even realized he had done it. He stepped away, but added, "You don't seem to mind."
"Oh, I definitely don't mind," Dean's smirk was edging on lewd, now. "I just think maybe we should go on a first date before I put out."
Cas smiled, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to Dean's cheek. "Okay then. Take me out on a date."
Dean's eyes flickered towards Cas’s bed, lips slightly parted in a tiny, wanting sigh. "On second thought, seeing as I’m not dying, we have plenty of time for dates later.”
Dean tugged Cas closer to the bed, and any complaint Cas might've had was quickly silenced by Dean's lips. After all, Dean was right– for once, neither one of them was dying (or possessed), and they had all the time in the world.