#jaackles

He barges into Cas’s room a few hours later, dressed and determined.

"Cas!" He says too loudly, inciting a squint from Cas who’s huddled on the bed with not one or two but four books in front of him, seeming to be reading all of them at once. Christ.

"What? I already ate, Dean." He replies, looking back down at his books.

"No, c’mon, we’re going out. You’ve been reading in this dark room for hours, that shit’s not good for your eyes, man."

Cas looks at him like he finds him the most annoying thing in existence. Ever. He sighs a little dramatically and closes all four books. Dean just flashes him a toothy grin.

"Where are we going?" He asks, sounding as if it’s physically hurting him to be pulled away from his books.

"We’re gonna go see a badass movie and have a good time, alright? Those books will be here when you get back."

He grumbles all the way through getting dressed, Dean can hear the fucker complaining from outside the door and all the way out of the bunker and into the Impala.

"Cas, will you shut up? You’re gonna have fun, I promise and if you don’t you can stay in that room and read all the books you want okay? I won’t bother you about doing crap again."

Cas looks interested at that idea, perking up a little. Dean shakes his head, sighing.

"What are we seeing?" Cas says, as they’re arriving at the small parking lot of the movie theater a town over.

"Pacific Rim. It has giant, like godzilla giant aliens and people in giant metal suits fighting them. And it’s the apocalypse. Without angels and demons. So, awesome.”

Cas looks a little skeptic but gets out of the car anyway, the two of them making it into the dark theater just as the previews end, each with popcorn in hand.

They find a seat at the back even though the theater’s mostly empty, at Dean’s prompting.

"Is this your first time at a movie theater?" Dean whispers. Cas nods at him distractedly, while shoving popcorn into his mouth, his eyes already focused on the movie. Dean grins and settles in for a good 2 hours of awesome.

He can’t help but sneak little glances at Cas, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it. He seems pretty into it, eyes glued to the screen, even chuckles a few times, though not always when someone makes a joke. And then Yancy is getting wrenched out of the jaeger and a empathetic pang goes through him for Yancy yes, but mostly for Raleigh, and he hadn’t even noticed Cas tensing up but then there’s a hand clutching at the back of his, sudden warmth tugging at his own.

He looks over to see Cas leaning forward towards the screen, face twisted up in surprise and horror. Then it’s over, he’s gone and Raleigh is screaming after him and Cas finally notices where his hand is. He pulls it away sharply and looks Dean in the eye. Something passes between them, electric in the dark room, the sounds of fighting on the screen fading for a second. Dean breaks it first, swallows thickly and mumbles an it’s fine as h looks away. He can still feel Cas’s hand though, a distracting phantom sensation. He rubs the hand against his jeans, trying to focus on the movie.

Dean makes it through the most of the rest just fine, the movie is actually pretty damn awesome so it’s not like it takes much to focus. But then Cas’s hand is back clutching at his arm this time when Raleigh looks as good as dead. Dean knows he can’t be, they can’t kill the protagonist after all that but Cas doesn’t know movies like he does so he’s staring at the screen, looks seriously worried and Dean wants to kiss the look off his for a second.

Okay. Where did that come from? But yeah there it is and it wouldn’t be the first time be thought that if he was being honest with himself. Cas is really close, radiating warmth and touching him and it’s doing it for him, unfortunately. Sad scene and all. So maybe this movie thing was a bad idea. But before he can think himself into a panic Cas’s hand loosens but he’s also he’s right there, grinning at Dean because Raleigh is alive after all and him and Mako are having their moment.

Dean tries to grin back as best as he can, seeing as he’s really turned on and well on his way to a boner just because Cas touched him on the arm what the fuck.

Cas finally stops touching him as the credits roll and he forces himself to think about old people having sex so he can calm himself down. Which, gross, but pretty effective.

They walk out in silence, the theater too filled with noise for them to talk but as soon as they’re in the lobby, Dean tries to make his voice sound normal and turns to Cas.

"Well?’ he says, knowing that Cas loved it but wanting to hear it anyway.

Cas rolls his eyes a little. “You were right, I enjoyed it. Tremendously. I especially found the idea of the drift really fascinating. I mean theoretically…” Dean zones out as Cas gushes, distracted by the thing that just happened. Okay. So. Dean’s not an idiot, he’s felt a connection between them before and he knows that they stand too close for friends and stare too much and he doesn’t mind so much. But he doesn’t sit in dark rooms with Cas for long periods of time much so he didn’t know it could be like that. Maybe it’s time they did something about this profound bond thing because whatever that was, he wants more; preferably somewhere more private and with less clothes on.

"… so do you think we would be" he hears Cas say as they get into the car.

"Sorry, what?"

Cas looks at him like he knows he’s talking to a 5 year old. “Drift compatible, Dean. I mean we do have a bond so do you think that would mean we would be drift compatible?” He cocks his head at Dean, looking like he’s half joking and half like he’s really wondering,

Yeah, he’s too much of a mess right now to even go near that. “I don’t know, Cas. Yeah, probably. We’d totally kick a lot of kaju ass though, am I right?” He says, taking his eyes off the the road to grin at him for a second. Cas smiles back at him warmly.

    Suspect number one, naturally, is Castiel. He’s got the look of someone who knows more than he’s letting on, and every time Dean bumps into him in the bunker he’s got this little smile on his face, and Dean will swear on all he holds dear that his eyes actually twinkle when he says Hello, Dean in his usual gravel voice.

  Understandably indignant, Dean eventually snaps.

  The carnation in his underwear drawer is definitely the last straw, and he gathers up all the flowers from his room – there are a lot – and deposits them in a pile on the table. He bellows Cas’ name and waits for him to arrive, which he does, some minutes later.

  “What seems to be the problem, Dean?” he asks, coming to stand beside Dean and the heap of flowers.

  Dean gestures to the pile and accidentally knocks several of them onto the floor. “What. The hell. Is this,” he grinds out, nostrils flaring.

  Cas surveys the range of flora. “I believe they are flowers,” he says, and Dean valiantly withholds the desire to punch him.

  “Yeah, Cas, I got that. You wanna enlighten me on why they were in my room?”

  “Oh,” Cas smiles, suddenly shy. “I’m courting you.”

  It takes approximately fourteen seconds for Dean to process that. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again immediately. Cas is still smiling, looking at Dean with an earnest expression in his eyes.

  “You,” Dean splutters. “You’re.” He clears his throat, makes an abortive motion with his hands. “What?”

  “Courting you, Dean.”

  “Yeah – wait – no. What?”

  Cas sighs, like a long-suffering wife, and, wait, Dean did not just think that. “Sam suggested flowers.” He shrugs but doesn’t apologise. “I must admit I’m not very well-versed in this sort of – thing.”

  Dean wants to laugh – he really does – but there’s an image going around and around his head of Cas and Sam having sleepovers in the library, whispering secrets about their love lives to one another. Like girls. Oh God, Dean lives with two girls. He presses two fingers to his temple – hard.

  “Did you really think that would work, Cas?” he asks, finally fluent once more.

  “Sam assured me it would. He said it was a ‘failsafe plan’.”

  Dean gapes. “Jesus Christ,” he says. “Oh my God. This is not happening.”

  For the first time since this whole thing began, Cas seems to hesitate. “I’ve misjudged,” he says matter-of-factly. “I apologise.”

  Dean shakes his head and touches Cas’ shoulder. “No, Cas, you just – uh – you got – mislead. By Sammy. He’s a bitch.” Dean laughs – thought it comes out more like a helpless gurgle. He goes to remove his hand from Cas’ shoulder, and then thinks better of it. He does something with his mouth that he hopes is a grin, though it feels a lot more like a grimace. “If you wanted to – uh – well, you know. You could’ve just – “ he gestures to the space between them, “asked.”

  “Oh.” Cas looks adorably confused – no – just confused. He gazes unblinkingly at Dean. “I see.”

  Dean pats his shoulder and then takes his hand away. He clears his throat noisily and nods in the direction of the flowers. “Right now though, I think we better do something with these flowers.” He looks at Cas meaningfully, and then in the direction of Sam’s room.

  Cas, mercifully, gets the hint. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, yes, that would be wise.”

  He orders a coffee, no sugar, and isn’t surprised when Castiel does the same with a brief, perfunctory smile.

  The waitress leaves, and suddenly they are alone, suffocating under the heavy, heady weight of diner grease and the silence of an empty restaurant.

  Dean allows himself the liberty of looking at Cas. He notes the deep circles under Castiel’s eyes, the way his skin is paler than it ever used to be. His collar is slightly stained, as if it has not been washed in several days, and he has bunched his sleeves up over his elbows in an untidy manner. Dean restrains the urge to reach over and fix that for him.

  Despite all that, Cas’ eyes are as bright and blue as ever, and Dean feels a sweeping surge of relief, though for what reason he’s not entirely sure.

  Castiel, as is (and perhaps always will be) his custom, watches Dean watching him. He shuffles around in his seat a little, feet scuffing against the floor, and his fingers play with the condiments that sit, or rather stick, to the faux-wood surface.

  “So,” Dean says, and then he has to stop because their coffees are being set down in front of them.

  When the waitress has flounced off again, Dean clears his throat and tries again.

  “Been a while, huh?” he says, and immediately feels stupid.

  Cas laughs, well – he huffs and his lips quirk up slightly at the corners. “Yes. It has.”

  “You couldn’t call?” The words are out before Dean can reel them back in. He takes a sip of scalding, watery coffee to hide his shame.

  Across from him, Cas appears unruffled, but his eyes widen imperceptibly and he stops smiling. “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

  And that? That stings. Dean grimaces and leans back in his seat. He looks away, towards the peeling paint on the far side of the room. “I did, Cas,” he tells him. “I thought you were–“ he hesitates, rethinks. “I – we – were worried about you.”

  Cas ducks his head, guilt seeping into his expression. “I’m sorry,” he says.

  Dean nods. “You always are.”

  They drink their coffee; it tastes like acid and burns Dean’s tongue. His chest aches, but that’s not the coffee’s fault.

  “For the record,” Dean says at length, his coffee now a sludgy mess of dregs. “I’m sorry too.” He doesn’t watch Cas’ reaction, but he hears the indrawn breath. “You always leave, Cas. And it hurts.”

  Cas nods. “I know.”

  “I blamed myself. I still do.” Dean’s not sure why he’s saying these things, but the words are bubbling out of him and he cannot stop them. His mind is moving at a dizzying speed and he wants to puke, or maybe slam his head against the table. Either one would suffice

  But then Castiel’s hand reaches slides forward and their fingers bump against each other, almost not touching at all.

  “Dean.” Castiel murmurs, and he smiles so gently it shatters Dean’s heart. “We have both been very foolish.”

  His breathing evens out and he meets Castiel’s soft gaze. “Yeah,” he grunts. “You’ve got a point.”

  Cas’ hand moves closer and their fingertips curl together. It’s the most romantic shit Dean has ever experienced, and he is mesmerised by it. He squeezes Cas’ fingers.

  “You coming home with me this time?”

  Cas smiles. “I want nothing more,” he says, and Dean’s heart does absolutely not leap happily inside his chest.