#daenw

Cas pushes the door shut, and heads back down towards his much warmer bedroom. Once inside his heated sanctuary, he kicks off his damp slippers, covering his bare red toes with a pair of wool socks he finds in his top drawer. He tugs one of the top blankets on the bed up around his shoulders, holding it tight beneath his chin, and urges his grace to make the shivers go away. The clock on his nightstand flashes 6:00 a.m. It’s still too early, Sam and Dean won’t be up for at least another hour. Cas glances from the clock to the framed picture next to it. The image is one of him and Dean, taken after Amara and God left. Dean’s smiling, one of those soft, special ones he reserves for family, and his arm is slung comfortably around Cas’ shoulder. He’s close, so close that his nose is almost brushing the side of Cas’ cheek. It was the only moment Cas had seen Dean genuinely happy during those weeks while Sam was missing. Mary had taken the picture while they were at a diner on the way back to the Bunker. Cas remembers he had said some lame joke, an attempt at humor and Dean laughed, one of those belly-aching sorts that causes tears to crawl down his cheeks. Cas moves his gaze from Dean to himself, and notices he’s smiling too, a gummy tooth smile. And he looks happy; really happy. He knows he only ever looks like this around Dean.

If we could finally be more than friends, Cas thinks, we would make each other so happy.

The room suddenly feels stifling and despite his angelic state, he feels like he can’t breathe. Cas rises from his seat on the corner of the bed, stealing one last glance at the image. He aches and aches and aches.

He slips on a pair of boots over his socks, stuffing his pajama pants inside, and heads out into the hallway towards the front door.

The snow covers his feet completely, pushing up close to mid-calf and he has to wade through it rather than walk normally. He stops walking fifty feet from the Bunker door, standing in the middle of the snow-covered path and stares out at the expanse of horizon in front of him. The sun is rising, bright orange; color stark against the white paleness of the surrounding world. He bends down, dipping his bare hands into the snow, and pats together a snowball. He throws it and it falls apart mid-throw into a cloud of white. Now his palms are red; fingers numb.

Human, he’s so human.

Cas stuff his hands into the pouch pocket of the sweatshirt, clasping his palms together to warm them, and watches the sun rise.

“Cas? What the hell are you doing out here?”

He turns at the sound of Dean’s voice, pitched up in concern. Dean’s standing in the doorway, squinting at Cas in the brightness, his bare arms wrapped tight around himself to fend off the chill.

“Watching the sunrise,” he answers, simply, with a small smile.

Dean’s face softens at his words, melting into something Cas thinks looks like adoration and disappears around the corner. When he returns, he’s bundled up in a winter coat, boots, gloves, and has a blue wool scarf in his hands.

“Man, I really hate this stuff,” Dean mutters, as he trudges out through the drifts to where Cas is standing. He stops a few inches from Cas, close enough for their shoulders to brush when Dean shifts his weight.

“Here,” Dean says, wrapping the scarf around Cas’ neck, “If you’re gonna be out here at least wear something warm.”

“Dean, I don’t get cold like you,” Cas says, though, he’s slowly learning as the days pass, the less true that statement is becoming.

“Yeah, well, just for my peace of mind keep it on okay?” Dean says.

“Okay,” Cas answers. He bends down, scooping up some snow into his hands again, but instead of forming it into a ball, this time he throws it up in the air, staring up as it comes down onto his and Dean’s heads. Dean sputters a little as some gets in his mouth and bumps into Cas’ shoulder with his own.

“It’s like you’ve never seen snow before.”

Cas chuckles, kicking his foot out and watching how the snow cascades off the sides of his boot.

“Well I haven’t, not like this.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.

“Things are different when you have a home; when you have people to share things with.”

Dean makes a sharp noise of surprise next to him, and Cas looks over at him, a soft smile on his face.

“Well,” Dean starts, voicing dropping its surprised tone, “The Bunker is pretty nice, it’s warm, has great water pressure and it’s safe from basically anything so – ”

“Dean,” Cas says, softly. Dean stops talking, eyes widening a little. “I don’t mean the Bunker. You and Sam are my home.”

Dean just stares at him and it takes a few seconds but then he nods, swallowing thickly and says, “Does that mean you’re gonna stay?”

“Dean, surely you should know by now that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Cas says, taking a few steps forward, feeling courageous in the beauty around them. “I love you,” he says, then after a beat, “I love you both very much.”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice stutters a little on his name, and when Cas reaches down to take one of Dean’s gloved hands within his own, he finds them trembling.

“I love you too,” Dean whispers, as if he’s scared of the words coming out of his mouth and what they could do to him. His eyes are darting back and forth, watching Cas’ face; and it’s then in his moment of worry, his fear unknowing what kind of love Cas really means, that Cas kisses him.

The kiss is soft at first, just a slight press of his mouth against Dean’s. Cas deepens it, reaching up with his free hand to pull Dean into him more, and Dean gasps into his mouth. Cas pulls back when Dean does, smiling against Dean’s mouth, and presses their foreheads together, staring into the eyes of the man who altered his entire universe.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Cas says.

“How long?” Dean asks, voice rough with emotion.

“Years,” Cas answers, and that’s all of answer Dean needs before he’s closing in this time, pressing a delicate kiss against Cas’ mouth.

“Me too,” Dean admits, squeezing Cas’ hand.

The fact that Cas could’ve had Dean for years, if either of them had been smart enough to confront this thing between them is enough to cause tears to brim in his eyes. He could have held him every night, kissed him whenever he wanted to. Though thinking about the recent years, he supposes that sometimes to have the good things in life we have to wait for the time to be right.

“We’re kind of idiots aren’t we?” Cas says, lips twitching up into a smirk.