#leap fic

He had gotten used to the big muscles, the over-six-foot frame, the fact that he took up more than his half of the bed. And still, every morning when he woke up, he thought that was still him. And then reality would set in; yes, maybe they defeated Thanos and saved the world. But the Titan had ripped the serum right out of him, putting him back where he started. 

Steve tried to roll over quietly, his joints cracking as they moved for the first time. Nicoletta was still sound asleep next to him, her hand slightly outstretched toward him. That always surprised him in the morning too - that she still wanted to be with him. His lungs protested the movement and the chill from the extra February day, and even if he tried to suppress it he was sent into a loud coughing fit. When it finally passed he sat at the edge of the bed, both to catch his breath and to hope that he hadn’t woken up his partner.

“You okay?” Nicoletta’s voice was soft as the morning light. The mattress creaked slightly as she got up, coming to rest her warm hand on his back. 

“Yea, yea I’m fine.” he said, his voice extra low. “Sorry I woke you, Nicky.”

“I was semi-awake anyway.” she said, moving to wrap her arms around him and lay against his back. Before, when he had enhanced senses, he could tell when she was lying. Now, he just had to trust that she was telling the truth. He rested his hand on hers, enjoying the touch. “Do you need some tea?” 

“I’m okay.” he said, rubbing her hand. She made a noise that said she didn’t believe him, scooting closer to him. “Don’t want to be a burden first thing in the morning.”

“You’re not. Ever.” she said, moving around so he could see her. “Is that what you think?”

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even though his heart was hammering in a way that wasn’t due to his cardiomyopathy. “I just know things are different now.”

“Your body may be different, but you’re still my Steve.” she said. Her accent was slightly thicker, which meant she was extra serious about what she was saying. He put his hand on her cheek, looking into her honey brown eyes.

“You still love me?” he asked. He tried to make it sound like he was joking, but it came out serious.

“Always and forever.” she said, reaching out and tapping his nose with her finger. “Don’t forget it.”

“I may sometimes.” he said cheekily, this time actually sounding like he was kidding. She sat up a little straighter then, her face changing as she thought of something.

“Well then, I have something for that.” she said, crawling back over to her nightstand. Steve wondered what it would be this time: a supplement? a spell from her mom’s neighbor again? But instead she came back with a little box. The shape of it seemed familiar, but he didn’t dare think it.

“Whatcha got there, Nicky?” he asked. He could hear his pulse in his ears, and hoped he’d be able to hear her over it.

“I know this is unconventional, but...well, we’ve never really done things by the book, have we?” she asked. She opened the box, showing an ornately carved silver band. She must have gotten nervous, because she started speaking in Romanian instead of English. “Steven Rogers, I something loved you something something something and-”

“English, baby.” he interrupted, his cheeks already cramping from smiling. She took a breath and nodded.

“I love you. And I’ll love you forever.” she said carefully. “Marry me?” 

“Of fucking course I will.” he said with a laugh, the moment giving him a surge of adrenaline that let him grab her and pull her back on the bed with him, his lips eventually finding hers in a searing kiss. She giggled, pulling back just enough so she could lean her forehead against his and slip the ring onto his finger. Maybe it was unconventional, but he was still happy. Stupid happy.

His meeting with Crowley went about as well as expected.

“Readership is down, Castiel. Without more subscriptions, I can’t argue for more contracts with advertisers. Do I need to remind you again that this place runs on those contracts?

Cas fought the urge to roll his eyes. The discussion was hardly new. What came next was.

“Look. According to surveys, you’re the least read element of the paper. Most people don’t even know who you are. Either come up with some kind hook to get people reading within the next week, or I’m cutting you.

Glad, not for the first time, that he had the ability to work mostly from home, Cas left the office. His stride was long but jerky as he headed towards his car. Yanking the door open, he dropped into the driver’s seat.

Almost instantly, a sweet, sugary smell filled his nose. Craning his neck around to the backseat, he realized he’d forgotten about the dessert Madison had given him.

After dealing with Crowley, something indulgent felt very appealing.

Reaching back, Cas grabbed the styrofoam to go container and popped it open to find a slice of typical apple pie sitting innocuously inside.

At this point, Cas didn’t care if the thing and previously been frozen. He just wanted to wipe out his lingering interaction with his boss in the way only food could do. Grateful for the fork Madison had been thoughtful enough to provide, he dug in.

As his mouth closed around the first bite, it wasn’t just the flavor that hit him, it was a wall of memories.

In his mind’s eye, Cas was ten years old again, sitting at the kitchen table in his best friend’s house after school. Mrs. Winchester moved around the room in a comfortable familiarity as she sliced a fresh pie, putting a piece on a plate for him and Dean and Dean’s little brother, Sam.

The scene was achingly nostalgic, representing almost every afternoon of Cas’ early school years until he and Dean were in the fifth grade.

That November, right after Halloween, the Winchester house had caught fire. Mrs Winchester hadn’t made it out.

Dean’s father had packed up his sons and left in the middle of the night. Cas had been devastated. He had no way of contacting his best friend. But it went deeper than that. His own mother had died when he was still an infant and his father had always been remote and distant. Growing up, Cas had spent more time at the Winchester’s than he had in his own home. The many meals he’d eaten at Mary Winchester’s table had inspired his love for food.

When she died, Cas felt like he’d lost his family too.

And he’d never had a pie that came close to matching the ones eaten in that kitchen.

Until now.

It was heaven in a styrofoam container, and Cas was more than a little disappointed when he realized it was gone. Still, it had done a great deal to bouy his spirits and feel a sense of optimism about coming up with an idea that would satisfy Crowley.

Turning his key in the ignition, he went home to brainstorm.

Cas’ best thinking usually happened while running. The monotone slap of shoes against the pavement helped clear his head. Since he did consume quite a few calories in his line of work, he figured he could justify running as a work necessity and refused to feel guilty for doing so during hours when Crowley would say he was, “on the clock.”

As he ran the familiar path, he let his mind wander. Try as he might, he couldn’t focus on the assignment Crowley had given him.

What kind of catch would draw in readers? High end dining was overdone and impractical, allergy friendly might work, but Crowley would wave it off as a fad. Most actual fads didn’t really seem to take root in their corner of the world. The one fancy frozen yogurt joint that had opened, closed again within six months.

Lebanon wasn’t a big city. People wanted something that reminded them of home, with the convenience of not having to actually cook.

Involuntarily, Cas’ thoughts drifted back to the slice of pie. That was what people around here wanted.

Feet stuttering on the pavement as he rapidly slowed his momentum, Cas grinned. He turned back towards home, outlining a basic concept for his new strategy. And he knew exactly where he wanted to start.

It took Cas a week to get Crowley to finally sign off on his idea. Reviewing roadside diners registered as too plebeian and mainstream for the Glasgow-born editor, and Cas was no Guy Fieri. He’d finally gone straight to Meg, the paper’s owner and close friend, even though he knew it would do him no favors with his immediate supervisor.

“You’d better hope this works, Clarence,” Meg warned. “Much as it pains me to admit, Crowley’s right about readership. If your numbers don’t go up, don’t expect me to back you up if he decides to lay you off.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Cas said, his voice flat and barely suppressing an eye roll.

Crowley was right about one thing, though Cas didn’t agree that it was about his readership. Diner/Dive reviews weren’t new. It would hardly shake up the audience Cas was aiming for. But reviewing the diners as a whole would merely be incidental in the venture. Cas was counting on his twist to really draw in his numbers.

Madison’s eyes brightened when she saw Cas back in a booth, far later than he had hoped.

“You’re back!” she said, smile genuine as she walked up to his table, pad and pen already handy. “I guess ‘adequate’ can sometime hit the spot, huh?”

She stood casually in front of him, one hip cocked to the side, and her shoulders dropped. There was a twinkle in her eye and Cas knew it wasn’t a dig at his fumbled and impromptu critique, just friendly teasing. He appreciated that. The world of food could be surprisingly intense and just like with anyone who shared their creation with strangers, sometimes it was hard to take honest feedback.

Castiel smiled in response. “It can indeed. And while I will enjoy another burger, I have to admit, it was the pie that brought me back. I would actually love to feature it in an official review, and hopefully meet the person who baked it?”

Madison’s smile dropped. “Shit, really?”

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

She must have read the confusion in his furrowed brow.

“The guy we had behind the counter when you came in last week has already moved on. Unfortunately, we’ve got Gordon back. The owner made him stick with Dean’s recipe for burgers as a condition of his rehire, but he’s a crap baker. I’m afraid all we’ve got today is a thawed lemon merengue. Trust me when I say it wouldn’t be good for either of us if you decided to review it. And I will save you the pleasure of meeting Gordon.”

Cas was so stunned over the revelation that the very first review he’d lined up for his new hook was a bust that he almost missed a crucial detail in Madison’s explanation.

“Wait. What did you say the name of the new cook was?”

“Gordon? Or Dean? Dean was the guy that was here for about a week and a half before he split. Said he never stayed in one place too long. Just liked to fill in where he was needed until he wasn’t needed anymore. And apparently there was something about Lebanon in particular that had him out faster than normal.”

Cas thought for a minute that his body had forgotten how to breathe.

“What was Dean’s last name?”

“Winchester. Like the gun.”

Castiel’s world stopped for a moment as another flash of memory overtook him, the image of a small, freckle faced boy with an infectious grin filling his mind’s eye.

Madison leaned forward, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she reached out a hand tentatively towards Castiel as she peered down at him.

“Hey. You ok?”

He looked back up at her, blinking hard.

“You checked out there for a second.”

“Madison, do you know where Dean was planning on heading next?”

She straightened up, her expression of concern flattening out to a more neutral tone as she processed the question. She narrowed her eyes, clearly trying to recall what Dean might have said to her.

“I think he was headed west on 36 towards Denver.”

Cas smiled at her, wide and gummy, feeling lighter than he had in years.

He stood up and pulled ten dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Holding it up, she cocked her head to the side. “What’s this for? You haven’t even ordered anything yet.”

Cas continued to grin as he waved off her attempt to hand it back. “It’s a tip for the tip. Thank you. I have a pie maker to find.”

Charlie’s other eyebrow rose to match the first as the bell chimed behind them to signal the arrival of their elevator.  

There were a few other people inside the car, the badges around their necks identified them all as convention goers. Charlie looked at them warily before turning back to Dean.  

“And they talked to you about it? Why?”

To anyone else, the question might have seemed insulting, but Dean appreciated Charlie’s attempt to separate Dean from Jensen.

“He’s actually an old buddy of mine. Ran into him down in the lobby. Recognized the shirt he was wearing.” Dean tugged at the material covering his chest.  

Charlie’s eyes widened comically as she put two and two together. “So, wait, you actually knew the guy that grabbed your bag?”  

“Yep. Went to high school together. Apparently we’re both still using freebies for luggage.”

“Well, I guess that was convenient. Does he know who you are?”

One of the girls next to her, short, with very straight blonde hair, looked over her shoulder and narrowed her gaze intently on Dean as though tuned into the fact the he might be someone worth knowing.  

She quailed after a pointed, “Do you mind?” from Charlie.

Dean grimaced. “No.”

Charlie pursed her lips and studied Dean. She opened her mouth to say something just as the elevator reached their level and the doors opened. Glancing at the busy lobby, she sighed instead. “Well, I guess he’s about to find out. Come on, tiger.”

Dean smiled uneasily. “Wrong feline. I’m a lion remember? And a cowardly one at that.”

Charlie just smirked, but to Dean’s satisfaction, seemed willing to let the conversation drop as they worked their way through the crowd to the door that would take them behind the stage as they awaited their introductions.  

He was glad of the reprieve, even if he knew it was temporary. He wished what he’d told Charlie had been entirely true. He knew calling Cas an old “buddy” was generous. After all, they’d rarely interacted. But Dean had always been aware of Cas’s presence. He’d lost count of the times he’d tried to work up the courage to even talk to the guy. He knew Cas had come to every single play and every game. He’d started looking for him in the crowd, thinking of him as a good luck charm.  

It was true that Dean was often surrounded by people in high school, but it really made him feel more isolated and vulnerable. Very few of those people were his actual friends. And it made it harder for Dean to know who liked him and who liked being seen with him.  

Dean had never figured out how to approach the cute boy in his art class with the open, blue eyes and the tousled black hair. It hadn’t helped that among the other things Dean had been hiding from all but those chosen few, was the fact that he was bisexual. While Cas hadn’t been the first boy he’d been attracted to, he was the first that made Dean want to act on his attraction. But Cas had never approached him, or showed any real interest in him.  

“Dude,” Charlie said in a loud stage whisper, digging her elbow into his ribs. “Focus.  We’re about to be introduced.”

Dean’s attention snapped back to the present. He realized at some point, Charlie’s girlfriend Dorothy had joined them and had linked arms with his friend. Both girls were eyeing him with identical expressions of concern. Charlie was right, he needed his head in the game.  It had been years since he’d been out on an actual stage, but he was still an actor, he could do this.  

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”

“What?”

“You aren’t getting into character here. Relax. Be yourself. Answer the questions you want, bullshit your way around the ones you don’t. Not that hard. Besides. We’re all going out there together. Lob something off to me if you can’t deal.”

Just then, Gabriel was calling them all out one by one. Charlie went first, tossing a bolstering smile over her shoulder as she did, then Dorothy, and the rest of the cast. Finally, it was Dean’s turn.  

As far as Gabriel was concerned, Dean was Jensen. No one here outside of Charlie and Dorothy knew Dean’s real name.

And Cas, he reminded himself with a smile as he stepped out onto the stage.  

The room wasn’t nearly as big as he’d been afraid it would be, but there were still probably three hundred people packed into the space - some standing in the back when they couldn’t find a seat. He found himself scanning the crowds like he used to do in high school, looking for that one face - his lucky charm.  

He felt the band of nerves around his chest ease as he spotted Cas about halfway back, on the aisle near a pillar. He took a deep fortifying breath. This was just like high school, and with Cas in the crowd, he could do anything.  

After settling into that thought, the rest of the panel went by almost in a blur. He was surprised by how much fun he had. Most of the hour was spent bantering back and forth with his cast members. Since the majority of their dialogue had been recorded separately, Dean hadn’t had much opportunity to hang out with the rest of the crew aside from Charlie and Dorothy. It was a good group and he enjoyed the overall dynamic. The way they took a question and bounced it among themselves, often incorporating the audience made it feel more like a giant game of improve, with the audience just an additional player. Halfway through, Dean completely forgot to be nervous and his smile was genuine.  

As soon as the panel was done, the cast was hustled off stage for autographs. Dean felt his nerves start up again.  

He’d actually expected the autographs to be easier. Interactions were brief and he wasn’t as worried about photographs or video leaking onto the internet. But he also knew Cas would be in the line somewhere. And now he knew Dean was Jensen. Would it make a difference? God he hoped not. For both Dean and Jensen.  

Professionally, he was genuinely interested in the film Cas was working on.  Personally, he really hoped Cas was still willing to take him up on that offer for lunch. He felt his hand stray to the card in his pocket more than once as guests came up for his signature.  He was actually kind of amazed at how long the line was.

Still, he hadn’t spotted Cas yet.

He tried hard to stay focused on the fan in front of him at any given moment, not wanting them to think they had less than one hundred percent of his attention. If his eyes scanned the line automatically between people, he couldn’t really be blamed right?

Autographs had already lasted for about an hour and the line was starting to thin. Dean could see the end of it, but still, he hadn’t spotted Cas yet. His stomach twisted. Cas had changed his mind. Either he didn’t want Dean on the project, or he was upset that Dean hadn’t been straight with him about his identity that morning. Cringing at his own earlier cowardice, Dean forced himself to stop looking. He’d get through this, spend the rest of the day in his hotel room wallowing, and maybe convince Charlie and Dorothy to go out to a bar with him later that night.

Finally, he reached the last person in line. He looked up and took in the tousled bed head, blue eyes, and shirt he’d been wearing himself not four hours ago. Blinking in surprise, he felt a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Hey, Cas! I was starting to wonder if you were gonna make it.”

Belatedly, Dean realized he’d openly acknowledged knowing Cas in front of his handler and several stragglers. His smile faltered a little as he glanced over at his handler, Tiny.

“Hello, D-, Jensen,” Cas said, clearly catching the flash of panic in Dean’s eyes as Cas started to address him by his real name. Dean felt his shoulders drop in relief and his mouth twitched a bit more up at the side in an effort to convey his gratitude.

“I was really hoping to see you again, Cas,” Dean said, feeling no rush. There was no one behind Cas and he didn’t have another panel to get to. “My friend Dean said you wanted to talk to me about a voiceover opportunity?”

Cas smiled back at him, thankfully rolling with Dean’s continued attempt at a cover. “Yes, Dean led me to believe it was something you might be interested in. I’d ask you to lunch to talk about it, but I have plans with an old high school friend,” Cas said, a glint of humor in his eye.

Dean warmed at the description of “friend,” and was grateful Cas didn’t seem upset by his omission. “Surely your friend would understand, I mean, c’mon, it’s a chance to have lunch with the elusive Jensen Ackles. How could you be expected to pass that up?”

Dean knew he was flirting, but it felt more like an automatic gesture, a nervous reaction. Not that he didn’t want to flirt with Cas. Hell, he’d been interested in the guy since sophomore year. But what he was doing now felt more like that guy he’d been back in high school than who he was right now. That face that he’d put on for the rest of the world. He wanted to be himself with Cas.

“I suppose you have a point,” Cas said, pausing slightly and tilting his head at Dean a little curiously, “but I think I’d really like to try and find a way to do both if possible.”

Dean relaxed, and, for the first time since he’d sat down for the autograph session, Dean breathed easily. “I think I’m good with that,” he said.

Cas smiled widely, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes that Dean found fascinating. “What time do you think you’ll be free to go?” he asked, looking around at the rapidly emptying hall. Dean was pretty sure the next panel had already started.

He glanced down at the watch on his wrist, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Wait, is it really already after one?” He looked up at Cas. “Uh, I guess, are you hungry now?” he asked, wracking his brain for places the convention staff had recommended to eat.

“I could eat. Are you allowed to leave now?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, the only thing I was here for was the one panel and the autographs. Only did that much cuz I lost a bet to Charlie. I’m telling you man, it’s not a game of chance when you’re dealing with the Queen of Moondor and a twenty sided die.” Dean shook his head, repressing a slight shudder.

Cas laughed, one eyebrow raised and an arm extended, gesturing towards the exit. “Shall we then?”

“Lead the way,” Dean said.

In the end, they wound up wandering the streets for another hour, talking and periodically stopping to check the menu outside various restaurants. Finally, it got to the point where Dean just couldn’t take it anymore. He was starving.

His eyes lit up when he spotted a Five Guys on the corner. Ok. So it wasn’t exactly the classiest of joints, and might not be the most conducive environment for a business meeting, but at that point, he didn’t care. And a burger sounded fantastic.

He turned to Cas to try and plead his case, when the other man visibly sagged, “Oh thank God,” he said, eyes glued to the sign above the restaurant.

He turned to Dean with wide eyes and asked plaintively, “Do you mind if we just eat here?”

Dean laughed, “Dude, I was seriously about to ask you the same thing.”

Grinning, they walked inside and placed their order, picked it up at the counter and sat down.

Outside of the setting of the convention, where Dean had constantly felt the pressure of being Jensen, he was happy to see that talking with Cas was as easy as it had been that morning, before his secret had been revealed.

At first, they steered clear of business, continuing the conversation they’d been having on the hunt for lunch, which included a lively debate on which Star Trek was the best, comparing book to movie versus for Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones, and just about any other nerdy pop culture topic they could find in common.

Eventually though, the topic of Cas’s project came back around.

“Almost every major animated film released nowadays is computer animated,” Cas explained. “And I love the medium, but I hate that the traditional hand drawn illustration seems to have been the victim. They’re two completely different forms of expression. I think there’s room enough for both in the cinematic sphere.”

Dean tended to agree, but he could tell this was something Cas was passionate about and wanted to hear what the other man had to say without interrupting, so he just nodded his head encouragingly.

“The style that I’m envisioning is different than what is common in more mainstream media. The storyline itself is a little darker. An angel and a human trying to navigate a tenuous relationship as they debate the value of heaven, humanity and free will. I want the visual to fit that. I’m thinking a lot of angles - something reminiscent of a Picasso, but more proportionate,” Cas said, taking a napkin and drawing on it almost unconsciously.  

Dean nodded again, intrigued.

“So?” Cas said, looking up, nervously twisting the napkin he’d just illustrated in his hands. “What do you think?”

Dean blinked, realizing Cas was finished and actually wanted Dean’s opinion on the concept, not just whether he was interested in being part of the project.

“There are only two voices through the whole thing, correct?”

“Yes, the angel and the human. Everything else is made up of the forces of evil surrounding them. I want their communication to be different to stand out. I guess, maybe, show how much they understand each other.” Cas seemed to realize he’d shredded the edge of the napkin and put it down. “All the other characters will be heard through grunts, growls, squeals, and the like,” he shrugged, “I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to make those noises on my own or use special effects. Since that can be created, cut and timed after the animation is complete, it’s not as critical a decision as the two voices.”

“Have you thought about changing the animation style for the heroes too?” Dean asked. “You know, like, keep the Picasso look for the the grunts,” he grinned at Cas and raised an eyebrow. To his delight, his poor joke earned him a snort and shake of the head, “and use a more flowing style for the heroes? That could set them apart both visually and audibly and you wouldn’t be so dependent on light and color for it.”

Cas pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side, “How do you mean flowing?”

Dean picked up the abandoned napkin and pen and made his own sketch, leaving the base Cas had drawn, but incorporating almost calligraphic lines to soften the sharp edges.  

When he was done, Cas looked at him, his eyes narrowed and evaluating. “That’s not a bad idea, Dean. Have you ever considered looking at the artistic side of animation?”

Dean blinked, his head pulling back slightly before he blinked again, looking off to the side. He’d never done anything with the art classes he’d taken in school, but it was still something he enjoyed fiddling around with. Besides, he was around art and animation all the time in his professional life. Hell, he’d even fiddled with a few storyboard ideas he’d never had the guts to show anyone. He knew he wasn’t completely terrible. But to be an artist? One who actually had a hand in the final product?

“Not really, man. I mean. I doodle on the side. A little, but just for fun.”

Cas leaned forward in his seat, resting both forearms on the table, angling his body and lowering his voice as though about to confide a secret. Dean had to lean forward a little more himself just to hear it. ”Dean, I, well, I looked through your bag a bit,” he hesitated before rushing to say, “I was just trying to find some kind of identification, I swear! I wasn’t trying to snoop, but, well…” he fixed Dean with a laser stare, pinning him to his chair. “I saw your sketchpad, Dean.”  

Dean felt the blush rising to his face. He wasn’t sure what he was embarrassed about, especially if Cas had seen his art and still asked him if he’d thought about animating, but there were some thing in that sketchpad that he’d never talked about. In some ways, it was his form of therapy.

“What would you think about coming on to this project in a larger capacity than just a voice actor?” Cas asked.

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious, man?” he asked incredulously. “You told me this morning that this was your baby. We haven’t seen each other in almost twenty years and you wanna trust me with this?”

Cas shrugged. “It’s not a light decision, no. But I’ve seen a sampling of your work - both vocally and artistically. I asked your opinion and you gave me genuine feedback that I feel will truly improve the end product. And honestly? The idea of singlehandedly animating a full length film on my own has been pretty daunting.” His mouth turned up at the corner in a wry smile. “Besides, I’m not really sure who’s doing whom the favor here. It would be a much larger commitment time-wise on your part and I can’t guarantee a huge payout at the end of it. Indie animation doesn’t exactly bring in the big box wages.”

He had a point. Dean wasn’t sure what to think. The idea of being able to do something visually artistic was appealing. It attracted him in a way he hadn’t thought it would. But he would have to make sure he could still pay his bills. He needed to keep his name fresh in the field too, or he wouldn’t have any work to come back to once Cas’s project was finished.

“If we can sit down and work out a contract and schedule that still lets me take on outside voice jobs, I’m in,” Dean said.

He couldn’t deny that a small part of his rushed decision was the realization that his increased involvement would allow him to spend more time getting to know Cas, the way he’d always wanted to do back in high school.

They talked about the movie a little more, but both agreed business could wait until they had a contract in place and were back in front of Cas’s storyboard. Dean realized his fries had gone stone cold. Glancing at his watch, he realized they’d been at their table for a solid two hours. He looked up at Cas and tossed a thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

“What you say we ditch this joint and head back to the hotel?”

Cas promptly snorted at the unintended innuendo and Dean felt another blush rush to his cheeks. “Oh, c’mon, man. Cut me some slack. You know what I mean. I don’t care what we do - hell, the convention is still going for another few hours. We could catch another panel if you want,” he winced as he thought of the convention. Cas had probably paid a lot of money to attend. He’d been personally staggered by the ticket prices.

To his relief, Cas just chuckled, as he stood up, ready to leave, and a little smile on his face. “Don’t worry, Dean. The only panel I was really interested in seeing, I got to attend.”

Dean stood as well and looked down as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah?” he said, suddenly and inexplicably feeling shy. “Was it what you hoped for?”

This time Cas let out a shout of laughter as he walked towards the door.

“I’d say I got more than I bargained for. Now come on and let me ask all the questions I’m dying to know about my favorite voice actor, but didn’t dare ask in a room full of people.”

Dean grinned as he followed Cas out into the warm sunshine, “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Cas grinned wickedly and Dean was suddenly sure about the question that was coming. “Like why the hell you had a vibrator in your bag.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows and clapped Cas on the back.

It was as though he’d hit a brick wall going a hundred and fifty miles an hour. If Castiel had been mortal, he would have been killed instantly. But there was nothing in front of him. Dazed, Castiel looked around him, trying to pinpoint what had blocked his path and prevented him from continuing his journey to Earth. Hovering, he cocked his head to the side as he looked at the swirling eddies of condensed water around him. He knew that just beneath him, this water would be falling in the form of a terrific blizzard. Visibility below would likely be just as bad as it was in the cloud itself. It was unlikely Castiel would be able to see whatever it was that stopped him.

Then he heard it.

Softly at first, as though hesitant and unsure. Pure notes, filled with sadness, hope, longing, and love drifted up towards him. They filled Castiel’s mind with a joy he hadn’t felt since the host had been one, whole, together and singing in harmony at all the wonder of his Father’s creation.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound twist around him, so real he could almost feel it. But it was too faint. Too far away. He needed to find the source.

The notes snaked around his wrists, his feet, and pulled.

Unaware of what precisely had happened, Castiel felt himself falling, plummeting towards the earth, a cacophony of other sounds filling his mind as he came closer and closer to the throbbing pulse of humanity.

The sounds of machinery, discordant with the sounds of pain from the sick, lonely and dying. The sounds of rushing, of people always having somewhere to be, something to do, and no time to think about the marvels around them. There were sounds of laughter, sounds of families saying “I love you,” but these were drowned out by everything else.

The sounds exploded in Castiel’s head and he couldn’t think clearly. He clung to the thread of the first sound, shutting his mind out to everything else, shutting his mind even to the host, who had been in his head always.

Finally, it was quiet, but now the first sound was dying out, fading and vanishing into nothingness. Castiel’s only tether was cut, and he plummeted the last hundred feet or so to earth with no direction, eventually landing with a forceful THWUMP into a large snow bank outside a small house. He registered a door opening and a large figure illuminated by the light behind him before Castiel’s world went dark.

"Luk at tu!” the creature, who was in fact Sam, repeated back.  Dean rolled his eye.  This was not going to get them very far.  Motioning to Sam, he walked out of the bathroom.  They needed to check on Cas.  If he’d been transformed too, they’d really be in trouble.

As Dean stepped back into the hallway, Sam crowding close behind him, he noticed a warm, familiar aroma floating down the hall.  He raised his face appreciatively and took a deep whiff.  He wasn’t sure how he was smelling anything.  His perusal in the mirror hadn’t indicated a nose of any kind, but he wasn’t going to complain.  If Cas was able to make coffee, there was a good chance they were in luck and he hadn’t been affected.  

He and Sam toddled down the hall towards the enticing lure of caffeine and, hopefully, answers.  

They reached the doorway of the kitchen just as Cas, blessedly still in human form, turned towards them.  He stopped in surprise, his eyebrows shooting straight to his hairline and damn, even in a moment like this, Dean could appreciate Cas’s tousled bed head.  Not that he’d ever said anything about it.  

“Cas!” he said.  Well it was about damn time.  At least he was able to say something right.  

“Dean? Sam?” Cas asked hesitantly, confusion clear in his voice.

"Bello,” Sam said, waving sheepishly from behind Dean.  Dean just rolled his eyes.  

“What happened?”

Dean frowned in response - or whatever approximated a frown on a face with only one eye - but didn’t say anything.  There wasn’t much point.  He had no idea what would come out of his mouth, but it wasn’t likely to be whatever he meant.  Apparently Cas didn’t need Dean to answer to understand him though.  

“I suppose you don’t know.”

Dean huffed and crossed his arms, turning to face a the wall.  It was hard to admit, but he was embarrassed for Cas to see him like this.  

“Bi do,” Sam said, his tone so apologetic, Dean could only assume he’d said “I’m sorry.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a loud banging at the door.  A look of consternation passed over his face as he held up his hand to Sam and Dean, cautioning them, rather pointlessly, to stay out of sight.  

Both Sam and Dean positioned themselves so they could see the door without being seen themselves, peering around as Cas pulled it open.  

“BEE DO BEE DO BEE DO!!” came a shrill voice.  Another creature resembling Sam and Dean came careening through the door, three flashing lights attached to his head.  He ran in zig zags and circles so fast Cas had no hope of being able to catch or stop him.  Sam and Dean toppled out from their hiding place in shock.  

Suddenly, the new creature stopped in the center of the room, a shit eating grin lighting up his face. “Bello,” he said.  

Dean remembered Sam saying the same thing earlier.  Given that it at least sounded logical, he was going to assume the yellow thing in front of him had just said, “hello.”

Right.  Dean had had enough.

He stalked up to the little yellow minion and shoved right into his face. “Po ka tu,” he spat.  

The thing in front of him looked at him seriously for a brief second before its face split into a grin.  From there he devolved into a snicker before crashing to the floor and rolling in outright laughter.  

Right.  Whatever or whoever this thing was, Dean didn’t trust him and it was clear he wasn’t going to be any help to them.  

Eye narrowed, he stalked over to Cas and grabbed a handful of the flannel pajama pants he was wearing at the knee - which just happened to be the highest point on the former angel that he could reach.  With an impatient tug, he started marching Castiel towards the library.  Sam could deal with the new guy.  

Dean, too busy muttering under his breath, missed the look of deep affection Cas aimed in his direction.  

Sam didn’t. Neither did their unusual guest who sighed dramatically, leaning back so far that his hands dragged on the floor, and rolling his eyes. Sam looked at the creature more closely, his eyes narrowed.  Like Dean, he was suspicious of him - at least, he assumed it was a him, it was hard to tell honestly - but he also recognized he might the one most likely to have the answers to what was going on. After all, he was a creature like themselves, who had managed to find them just after their transformation, and, who ever he was, he seemed remarkably unfazed.  So far, he didn’t seem like he posed much of a threat, and antagonizing the newcomer wasn’t likely to get them anything they needed.

Straightening up, the creature looked at Sam, laughter subdued to a mischievous grin.  “Me want banana!” he exclaimed.  

Sam frowned.  Well, that sounded fairly straight forward at least.  He turned towards the kitchen, indicating for the creature to follow.  

A quick search of the areas of the kitchen he could actually reach showed him they didn’t have any bananas, but they did have something he thought might work as a substitute.

“Bable?” he asked, holding out an apple to the stranger.  

Clearly it wasn’t sufficient.  Rather than taking it, the creature wrinkled his face, stuck out his tongue in disgust and waved Sam away with his hands.  “Gelato!” he said with enthusiasm.

Sam frowned.  He knew they didn’t have any actual gelato, but whatever this language was, perhaps that’s not what he was asking for at all.  

The other creature rolled his eyes again.  Pointing at the table, he turned to Sam and said, in what was obviously a command, “Chasey!”  He then pointed to the space in front of the refrigerator.  

Catching on, Sam moved to grab a chair from the table and placed it in front of the fridge.  He turned to look at the other creature questioningly.  

He grinned at Sam before poking him in the chest and then pointing up at the top of the chair.  “Tu a key!”

Sam grinned back and climbed quickly on the chair, waiting for more instructions.  To his surprise, the other creature scrambled up next to him...and kept climbing.  Sam braced himself as the newcomer danced about on his head.  

A vacuum hiss above him told Sam, the creature had opened the freezer.  Sam heard an, “ahahaha HA!” as a container of ice cream whooshed past him, barely clipping his goggles, before landing with a solid thump on the floor. The weight disappeared from Sam’s head as the creature jumped off to roll across the floor before scampering back to his find.  

He looked down at it, back to Sam, down, and back up again.  Sam couldn’t help but snicker.  It really was pretty funny.  He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t completely freaked out.  He should be. He should be in the library with Dean, trying to find a solution to whatever this was.  But there was something about this new guy that made him feel like whatever this was would work itself out and he should be having fun rather than stressing over it.  He couldn’t explain it, but he decided to roll with it anyway.  He still didn’t sense that their guest was any threat.  

“Pop pop?” the creature asked.

Sam turned towards the pantry and pried the door open from the bottom.  Fortunately, the popcorn was near the bottom.  Holding it up, he smiled when the creature grinned and nodded enthusiastically.  He was starting to get the hang of this.  

While they popped the popcorn, the creature dug through the drawers for two spoons.  Sam watched him curiously.  The next time the creature was looking at him, he pointed to himself and said, “Sa!”  He pointed at the stranger and raised an eye expectantly.

The stranger just chuckled and shook his head, hopping up to grab the popcorn as he walked past Sam, his arms now full of food.  Sam hurried to follow, wondering where they were going.  

The library, as it turned out.  The creature peered cautiously around the corner as though hoping to avoid being seen.  Looking at Sam, he widened his eyes, let out an exaggerated, “shhhh!!!” and tiptoed into the room to a vantage point behind a bookshelf where they could see without easily being seen.  

“para tu,” he said, handing the popcorn to Sam.

“Tank yu,” Sam said, setting down next to his new friend, wondering what they were doing.  

“Dean, it’s really not so bad you know,” Cas’s voice filtered back to them.  Sam shifted a little and realized he now had a perfect view of Cas and Dean attempting to research.

Dean didn’t respond to Cas’s comment verbally, but his one-eyed glare clearly spoke volumes to Cas.  

“I know that this will require an adjustment, and the language barrier might be...frustrating...at first.  But we’ve certainly handled worse.  It’s very likely this is only temporary.”

Sam heard a huff from Dean and the creature at his side snickered.  He shot a wary glance at the visitor.  He received a grin that wasn’t evil, but most definitely one that seemed to be anticipating something.  He pointed to Cas and Dean and whispered, “Cassee boy baboi.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Underwear...” he muttered.  He stopped and looked to his right, blushing furiously.  That was not what he’d intended to say.  

His neighbor broke into a fit of giggles. “Buttom,” he said, almost incoherently through his laughter.  

Sam frowned. “Tatata bala tu,” he said.

The creature wiped tears from his eyes, shaking his head in disagreement.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of Cas talking to Dean.

“No matter what happens, Dean, I’m not going anywhere.  I chose to stay when Heaven reset.  I gave up my failing grace rather than taking the cure.  I did it because I wanted to stay with you.  Do you really think something like this would make me leave?”

Sam could see Dean looking sadly down in his lap and he realized that’s exactly what his brother thought.  Apparently so could Cas.  

“Dean,” he sighed, “I’m not sure how much more I can do to show you that you are worth it.  You are worth everything.  And while I will admit that if whatever this is is permanent, I will miss many things about your previous form, there are a few advantages to this shape.  It will be far easier to cuddle when you sneak into my room at night, for example.”

And wait, what?  Surely Sam had heard that wrong.  But, no.  While Dean was glaring up at Cas, the corner of his mouth was twitching and there was no heat in the look.  

Cas chuckled.  “I know.  I’m not supposed to call it cuddling.  My point still holds. I will be with you no matter what.”

“Milaliloo ti amo,” Dean said, looking surprised at himself for speaking.  It was almost as if he’d said what he was thinking out loud without realizing it.

Cas’s gaze softened and he replied, “Me too,” before leaning over and kissing Dean on his forehead.  

There was a loud snap and Dean turned back into his original form.  

“Woah,” he said, looking at Cas. “What just happened?”

Cas smirked, “It would appear that whatever altered your form has been released.”  

Dean’s face flushed bright red.  “Wait.  Did you understand what I just said?” he asked hesitantly.

Cas’s face split into a wide smile.  “Dean, it took me years to be able to properly understand you.  Now it doesn’t matter what language you speak or if you speak at all.  I will understand you.”

Dean hesitated and looked down. “So, did you mean what you said?” he asked.  

Cas’s smile didn’t diminish, he just reached out to grasp Dean’s hand.  “Yes.  I love you, too.”

Sam was happy for them.  He really was.  It was about time they got their shit together.  But there was a small problem.  He still looked like a giant yellow thumb.  

He turned to glare at the creature next to him. “Po ka?” he asked.  

The creature just giggled and said, “Muak, muak!”

Sam was no longer amused.  His gaze darkened and he folded his arms over his chest.  

The creature darted forward and placed a loud, smacking kiss right on Sam’s mouth.  

SNAP.

Sam’s perspective changed quickly as he suddenly jumped from two and a half feet tall to his usual six foot four.  He blinked, looking down at…

“Gabe?” he asked in surprise.  

“Hey Sasquatch. Miss me?” Gabe asked, waggling his eyebrows.  

Sam smiled.  “Yes, actually.  Cas mentioned there was a chance you were still alive, but we hadn’t heard from you.  We weren’t sure if it was true or not.”

Gabe looked taken aback that Sam was actually happy to see him, but he covered the reaction quickly.  “Well, never fear, your archangel is here.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. He cocked his head and looked at the angel in front of him. “Not that I’m complaining. And I guess I’m not surprised at the shape shifting thing. It is your M.O., but why? What was the point? There’s always some lesson with you.”

Gabe grinned again and Sam was surprised he hadn’t recognize that look of mischief, no matter the shape of the face.  

“The spell had to be broken by a kiss or a confession of love.  We managed to get both.  It’s about time those goofballs wised up, don’t you think?”

Sam looked over his shoulder at their brothers, currently wrapped in each other’s arms and completely oblivious to the fact that Sam and Gabe were in the room at all.  

“Ok, fair enough, but why me too?”

Gabe flashed him a wickedly lopsided grin before cracking, “Helloooo, Trickster?”

Sam just laughed, leaning down and snatching a kiss of his own, enjoying the look of pleasant surprise on the angel’s face.