#mute!cas

Slowly, Cas opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "Dammit, Cas. I told you to not go dying me on again. Don't scare me like that." Dean hugged Cas tightly before helping him sit up. "Are you ok?"

Cas nodded and attempted to speak. When no sound came out, he squinted and looked at Dean. He pointed at his lips and then his ears while trying to speak.

"Cas, are you saying something?" Dean leaned in close, getting his ear closer to Cas' mouth. "There's nothing come out." Surprise and fear flashed across Dean's face. "Cas, did that spell do something to your voice?"

Cas' lips moved some more without sound before he resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't speak. He nodded at Dean.

"Holy shit." Dean looked over to Sam's direction. "Sam! We got an issue. Like, we need to get home and fix this A.S.A.P. issue."

Sam finished freeing the other woman and checking on her to make sure that she was ok before heading over to Dean and Cas. "What's going on?" He looked at Cas. "You ok?"

"He's NOT ok! He can't talk! That damned witch took his voice!" Dean's voice betrayed his panic. "You shot her, shouldn't that break the damn curse? No witch, no curse?"

"Cas, you can't talk?" Sam tilted his head. "Say something."

Cas glared.

"Really, Sam?" Dean stood up and held his hand down to Cas. "Not funny. You two get to the Impala. We need to get back to this witch's place, grab their books, and get to work to figure out how to fix Cas."

"And what are you going to do?" Sam shot a bitchface at Dean.

"I'm going to do the dirty work in case we need her hair, fingernails or bones. I'll be there in a minute. Go." Dean ran his hand down his face before pointing to the exit.

After a few minutes, Dean came out and threw a bundle of unmentionable items into Baby's trunk. He hopped into the driver's seat and headed back towards the witch's house. "We run in, we grab anything remotely witch-like, and we run, got it?"

"Uh, yeah, Dean. This isn't our first time cleaning up after a hunt."

Cas tilted his head and looked back and forth between Sam and Dean. He tried to speak again, but let his head fall forward when sounds refused to come out again.

"Cas," Dean called for his attention and met his eyes in the rearview mirror. "We're gonna fix this. Ok?"

Cas gave his own version of a bitchface.

"You don't believe me?" Dean frowned, clearly offended.

Sam spoke up. "Wait. Cas, did you try healing yourself?"

Cas ran his hand down his face. As if it were that obvious. He ran his hand over his throat and chest before trying to speak. He shook his head. No such luck.

Dean pulled in front of the witch's house. "Time for a little B and E boys. Let's try and keep this under 10?"

Cas rolled his eyes and nodded.

"If I beat you out here, you have to eat a salad for dinner." Sam looked at Dean and smiled.

"Hell no." Dean bolted out of the car and started into the house.

Sam took the opportunity to walk with Cas. "Other than the no voice thing, are you feeling alright, Cas?"

Cas nodded.

"No weird feelings?"

Cas shook his head.

"You can text or write down things if you need to say something more than yes or no answers."

Cas shrugged and pointed to the door. Dean had left it wide open, and he could be heard rummaging through one thing or another.

"Yeah, we're not going to have ten minutes if he keeps that up."

Cas attempted to chuckle, but there was still no sound coming out. His brief moment of mirth disappeared.

The guys had grabbed all the books and magical items they could find, clearing out the witch's house in less than 15 minutes. Dean had barely beat Sam back to the car, allowing himself a small victory dance, before getting back in and driving them back to the motel to grab their gear.

On the way out of town, they chose to stop at a diner. They all piled into a booth and looked at their menus, Sam throwing his down first. "So, I was thinking. We should probably call in an expert."

Cas looked up from his menu and looked at Sam then looked to Dean.

"You just want a reason to call up Rowena." Dean didn't bother looking up from his menu.

"She's a witch. Cas was cursed by a witch. I think having a witch in our corner would help with the process."

"Just say you want a reason to have Rowena at the Bunker." Dean's eyes flicked up for a moment before looking back down at the food offerings.

"You think you can solve this without her, Dean?"

"I don't think we need her."

Cas' head shot back and forth between the two, before looking at Sam, his eyes pleading with the younger Winchester.

"Fine." Sam sighed. "It would be nice to see her again."

"Sure. Call her up." Dean folded the menu and winked at Cas. "You eatin', Cas?"

Cas stared at Dean, exasperated.

The rest of their meal was uneventful, and before long the trio was back on the road. Sam had grabbed one of the spell books and was reading it by penlight. Dean was singing along to Zepplin, belting out the words to Ramble On.

Cas sat peacefully in the back. He closed his eyes and meditated. He listened to Dean's voice, smiling as warmth filled his chest. These moments, while sounding and appearing chaotic to an outsider, brought the most calm and joy to Cas. His family was safe and mostly together. They would be back at the bunker soon, and per a quick phone call Sam had made, joined by Rowena.

"Hey, Buddy," Dean gently nudged him. "Sorry to break into your namaste, but we're back."

Cas nodded and slid out of the backseat.

They all quickly unpacked the Impala and moved the books to the library. After putting their own items away, they settled down in the library and started researching until Rowena could join them.

Sam picked one of the tables to set up at, a notepad and his laptop in front of him with several books. Cas sat across from Sam with his own notebook and spellbook to go through. Dean chose to sit next to Cas but dragged over a bigger chair that he could curl up in and stuck to strictly reading his book.

During a quiet spell of reading, Sam's hands fell to the table. "I can't do this. I need coffee. I'll be back." He turned to Dean. "Want me to bring the pot?"

Dean looked up briefly from the spellbook he was reading and nodded before diving back in.

"Ok, I'll be right back. One pot of coffee, three mugs." Sam nodded at Cas and exited the library.

Cas took the opportunity to lean back in his chair and stretch. He looked over at Dean, who was completely engrossed in his book. The view in front of him stopped him and captivated him.

"I love you," Cas said for the first time, staring at Dean's profile. "I always have. I always will." Dean turned a page. "I love you, Dean."

Cas closed his eyes; Dean couldn't hear him.

Before Sam could return, Cas quietly stood up and exited the library. If Dean noticed him leave, he didn't make any commotion about it.

He walked silently through the halls, stopping by Jack's room to check on the sleeping Nephilim.

Cas continued to the Garage and got into one of the spare cars. He needed to leave. He said the words that laid unspoken between him and Dean for years, but he didn't speak them. His cowardice was no better than Dean's.

He rested his head against the steering wheel. Cas wondered if he would have attempted saying those three words if he weren't cursed. He sat back up straight and took in a deep breath before starting the car and slowly driving it out of the garage. He needed to leave before he did anything else stupid, as Dean would call it.

"Dean, where'd Cas go?" Sam entered the library with the mugs and a coffee carafe.

Dean sat up and looked over to where Cas had been sitting. "Shit, I keep joking about getting him a bell. One of these days, I really am." He rolled his neck and shoulders. "Is there a note?"

"Let me check?" Sam picked up the notepad and then the spellbook. "Nope. Nothing. Did you say something stupid?"

"I didn't say anything! We were both sitting here reading!" Dean held his book up. "He didn't even make any noise to get my attention." He shrugged. "I can go check his room."

"I would. I got a text from Ro. She's inbound in like 30 minutes. If she needs him here to figure out how to fix him."

"What did you do to bribe her?" Dean stood up and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nothing?"

"Right, And I'm Mother Theresa." Dean scratched his forehead. "Let me go see if I can find Cas. I'll be back around in a couple."

Dean headed to Cas' room and found it empty before heading to Jack's room. It was also missing a Seraph by the name of Castiel. "He wouldn't've." Dean walked to the garage and did a headcount of all the cars. There were three missing when only two should be checked out. "Well shit." Dean ran back to Library, catching Sam up with his findings.

"Cas is gone. He left the Bunker."

Sam picked up the book that Cas was looking at. "Maybe he found a solution?" He skimmed over the open page and the previous pages before it. "This is just a spell for tracking. This isn't an answer."

"Where'd he go?" Dean sat in the chair Cas had been using. "I know he's not helpless, but he can't talk. What if someone throws a million questions at him? What if someone tries to manipulate him? What if he needs to get a hold of us?"

"Lost your Angel, dearie?" Rowena stood in the walkway between the War Room and the Library. "He'll be easy enough to find once we figured out what happened." She crossed over to Dean and gently patted his shoulder before hugging Sam. "'Ello, Samuel. I'm glad ye called me."

Dean rolled his eyes before folding his arms on the table and resting his head. He silently prayed, hoping that Cas could hear him. Cas, buddy. If you can hear me, I'm praying to you. I need you to come home. We don't know what happened, but please come back? He looked up, looking around the LIbrary, holding his breath so he could hear the sound of rushing wings.

When Cas didn't appear, Dean refocused his attention on Sam and Rowena. Sam had recapped what happened on the witch hunt, earning over the top praise from the petite witch in front of him.

"So, jus' to confirm." Rowena sat in Sam's chair. "The witch you defeated, she chanted in Latin, her hands were encased in blue, and it was a bolt at Dean that Castiel stepped in front of?"

"It looked very fluid, water-like, actually," Dean added. "I don't remember a lick of the words though, I was too focused on making sure Cas would wake up."

"It knocked him unconscious?" Rowena looked up at Sam. "Ye didnae say that."

"I wasn't sure, actually. Dean had me take care of the hostage." Sam shrugged. "I do remember a bit of the Latin though: 'suis amantes libera mea.' I think, if I translated it correctly, it's 'deliver their strength to me.'"

Rowena tapped her finger to her lips before standing up and heading over a shelf of spellbooks in the library.

"What are you looking for Ro?" Dean turned in the chair. "Sam can't decide on an organization system. He changes it once a week, I swear."

"I do not." Sam paused as though he were calculating. "Maybe like once every other month."

Dean shrugged. "Point still stands."

"Boys," Rowena warned, looking over her shoulder before turning back to the shelf. She grabbed a book and flipping to a page "What if, the spell she cast wasn't a traditional, known spell. What if she was trying to combine several spells at once."

"Isn't that what all magic is anyway? Piecing together what you have to make the spell that you need?" Sam reached up to grab a book Rowena pointed to.

"Aye, you have been listening." Rowena headed back to the table. "Say that this witch has been dabbling in making their own. You need to be confident in what you're doin'. It's not just this word plus this word equals results."

"So, because this spell wasn't fine-tuned, it would have done one thing to me, but something completely different to Cas, because he's an angel?" Dean asked.

"That's thinkin' with yer noggin." Rowena smiled. "Since we don't know the full spell, we don't know what was intended, except to take away yer strength. She could've meant to kill ye, or to sap you of yer physical strength, or to take away whatever yer actual greatest strength is."

"Cas is strong. Why would it take away his voice?" Sam asked.

"Because he was the Commander of a freaking Garrison, Sammy," Dean stated, as though it were obvious. "He's a leader. Words are his strength."

"Dean's got a point, Samuel. Castiel would rather talk his way out of things before resorting to violence."

Sam rolled his eyes. "How did the guy who's strength is words, end up with the guy who has it as his weakness?"

"Excuse me!?" Dean's head whipped to face Sam. "What was that?"

"Don't even pretend, Dean. Who freaked out when Cas lost his voice? Who field dressed a witch so we would have hair and nails in case it was needed to cure Cas? Who is the one who was praying to Cas just a few minutes ago?" Sam shot Dean a smug grin. "Oh yeah, I saw that. Dammit, Dean, we all have eyes! I've had them for the past 10 years."

Rowena covered her mouth as she coughed to hide a chuckle. "That may actually be our solution." Both Dean and Sam paused in their argument to look at her. "As cliché as it sounds, curses are often broken with love. What's the best way to show love?"

Sam's grin exploded into a full-blown smile. "True love's kiss? Please say it's true love's kiss." He bit his lip to keep from bursting into laughter.

"I'm so glad you find this amusing, Sam." Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh, I do." Sam sat on the edge of the table next to the one they were working at. "Because, if you want Cas to speak again, you're going to try it."

Dean hung his head. "If it doesn't work?"

Rowena threw a pen at Sam. At that moment, Sam realized that Dean was scared. "What do you mean 'If it doesn't work?'"

"Don't both parties have to love each other for it to work?" Dean pushed himself out of Cas' chair. "I'm Cas' charge. That's it. That's all I'll ever be."

"Dearie, ye cannae be serious?" Rowena spoke up, leaning forward on the table. "You are so much more to Castiel than just a job."

Dean shrugged, closing himself off further "I don't even know where he is. He won't respond to my prayers."

"We could have Jack pray for him?" Sam suggested. "Or maybe I could?"

"That won't work." Dean shook his head.. "He's too smart for that."

"Witch." Rowena pointed to herself. "I can track you three, you know that, right? Your Enochian blocks you from Angels and Demons. I am a natural-born witch." Rowena stood up and walked to the War Room. "It works best if you have a hair, or a feather, or anything of his really?"

Dean jogged out of the War Room and came back a few minutes later. "This looks like they belong to him." He placed a few strands of hair into Rowena's hand.

"Should I ask?" Sam questioned.

"His pillow, Bitch."

"Sorry, Jerk."

"Boys!" Rowena huffed. She shook herself loose before placing the hairs on the table and reciting "Ostende mihi illum quem quaero." Rowena's eyes glowed bright violet as the map on the War Table started to swirl. The image was cloudy, but Dean instantly recognized it.

"I know where he is." Dean headed towards the Garage. "You two stay here. Call me if he comes back. Don't let him leave."

Dean made quick work of the drive to the Platte River. What usually should have been an hour and a half drive, he miraculously cut almost in half.

He and Cas had driven out here one day when he was under the influence of the Mark, trying to find ways to keep him calm and collected. It was beautiful and peaceful, and probably the last place Cas expected to be found.

Dean drove until he saw Cas' car and parked next to it, stepping out to follow the natural path down to the river's edge. The angel was sitting on the shore, his knees tucked up to his chest. Dean walked down as quietly as he could, careful to not disturb Cas.

Cas had heard the moment Dean pulled up with the Impala. It amused him that the human hunter thought he could sneak up on an angel. He allowed Dean his illusion, however and waited until Dean was standing next to him before looking up and acknowledging his presence.

"Why'd you run, Cas?" Dean sat down next to him, extending his feet out towards the water. "You left no note, nothing."

Cas shot a look, reminding Dean that he couldn't answer accurately.

"So, Twenty Questions with yes or no only questions?" Dean huffed out a laugh as he ran his hand down his face. "Are you mad?"

Cas looked at the water and thought for a moment. He shook his head no and looked back at Dean.

"Ok, not mad. I'm actually really happy to hear that one."

Cas cocked his head in confusion.

"I thought you might be mad at me, or that you might hold me responsible for this."

Cas shook his head quickly, moving to his knees and crossing his hands to indicate no.

"I hear you crystal clear, Cas. You don't blame me." Dean took hold of Cas' hands to stop them from moving. "Did you leave because you thought we wouldn't find a solution?"

Cas hung his head guiltily and nodded.

Dean hooked his finger under Cas' chin, lifting it up so they would be forced to make eye contact. "Is that the only reason you left?"

Cas closed his eyes and swallowed before shaking his head no.

Dean turned to face Cas and crossed his legs. "Cas, did something happen in the library, and I wasn't paying attention?"

Cas so desperately wanted to speak. His head bobbed in a figure-eight movement as he tried to determine if the correct answer was yes or no. He sat back on his feet and looked at Dean, before slowly nodding yes, settling on the affirmative for his response.

"You don't seem so certain of that yes." Dean turned Cas' hands over in his own, realizing he was still holding them. He ran his thumbs across Cas' knuckles. "I guess this counts. Is this ok?"

Cas watched as Dean softly caressed his hands, his heart beating faster. He looked up at the question and nodded enthusiastically.

"That's good to know," Dean smirked. "Cas, were you trying to say something to me?"

An indiscernible look crossed Cas' face before he sharply nodded twice, then shook his head.

"You know that makes no sense, Cas." Dean thought for a second. "Wait. Were you saying something out loud that you want me to know, but are afraid to tell me? You used this whole 'Little Mermaid Curse' to test it out?"

Cas paled, causing the proverbial light bulb to glow brighter over Dean's head.

"Cas, if I correctly guess what you were trying to say, will you tell me the truth and tell me that I'm right?"

The angel looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but there at that given moment.

"Fine. One last question." Dean paused, taking several deep breaths to build up his confidence. "Cas, can I kiss you?"

Cas tilted his head in confusion but nodded.

Dean didn't wait another moment. He gently cupped Cas' face, pulling him for a tender kiss that he poured all of the love he had for his angel into. He ran his fingers through Cas' soft locks, entangling them and holding them together. When they finally separated for air, their foreheads resting together, Dean whispered slowly. "I don't know if that'll work, Cas. But I swear, I hope it does. I love you. I always have, and I always will. I love you."

Cas' breath hitched as he heard the words he had tried to speak earlier almost verbatim from Dean's mouth. He opened his mouth to speak, afraid that no words would come out. "And I love you, Dean. I always have, and I always will." He looked up, surprised as he heard the sound escape from his lips.

"She was right." Dean leaned in and stole another kiss. "Holy shit, Rowena was right." He pounced on Cas and deeply kissed him again.

Cas chuckled, the sound music to Dean's ears. "Rowena figured it out?"

"She said that love would break the curse. " Dean sat up and pulled Cas with him. He found that he was straddling Cas' lap but really didn't care. "Technically Sam said it would be 'True Love's Kiss.'"

"Who would have thought that the Winchesters and Rowena were a bunch of romantics at heart?"

"Didn't know it would feel this good." Dean wrapped his arms around Cas' neck and kissed him again, their tongues exploring the other's mouth.

Cas' hands traveled down Dean's back and along his sides before resting on his hips, gently squeezing them. He slowly rocked Dean against himself before pulling out of the kiss. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask, and we're out here in the open."

"It's ok, Cas." Dean rested his head in the crook of Cas' neck. "Let's get back to the bunker. I'm sure they're worried, and if we're going to do this? I want to do it properly." Cas helped gently push Dean up to a standing position. In return, Dean held his hand down and help Cas up to his feet.

Their drives back to the bunker had been entirely uneventful, if not quick. Cas and Dean checked in with Sam and Rowena - who were awfully close together on the sofa looking at a tome - to show that her idea had worked.

"Am I free?" Sam asked. "Does this mean no more..." He gestured vaguely with his hand. "Whatever that was?"

Dean flipped Sam off and took Cas by the hand back to his room.

The moment after the door closed behind him and he locked it, Dean crossed over to Cas and kissed him again. His arms rested on Cas' shoulders, while his thumb gently played and rubbed at the nape of Cas' neck. "I'm sorry. Now that I know that I can have you, that I can touch you? I don't want to let go."

Cas smiled and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Do I need to apologize, since I want the same thing, and more?"

"Know what you're doing Cas?"

"I've seen videos. And I was human for a while." Cas blushed. "But I would prefer your guidance to make sure you enjoy it."

"Hey, it's not just what I enjoy." Dean ran his hands under Cas trenchcoat, pushing it off his shoulders. "I need you to enjoy it also."

Cas shook off the coat the rest of the way and tossed it onto a nearby chair. "What did you have in mind?"

"First, you lose the holy tax accountant gear." Cas snapped his fingers, and both he and Dean were naked. Dean laughed before continuing. "Not what I had in mind unless you're getting impatient?"

"I have waited ten years for this. I don't want to wait longer" Cas pressed his lips against Dean's before pulling away. He kissed down Dean's jawline before moving down Dean's neck and onto his chest.

"Where do you think you're going, Cas?"

Cas didn't respond verbally, but instead licked and kissed his way down Dean's chest and stomach, pulling moans and whimpers from hunter's throat.

"Castiel, I thought you said you would need my guidance?"

"Perhaps." Cas moved to his knees and looked up at Dean. "If I'm doing something you don't enjoy." He licked his lips before licking a stripe from the base of Dean's cock to the tip before wrapping his mouth around the head, causing Dean to shudder and grab on to Cas for balance.

"That's not fair."

Cas hummed in response, looking up at Dean. He kept one hand wrapped around Dean's cock, stroking it, as he focused on the rest with his tongue and lips.

Dean rested a hand on Cas' shoulder, the other tangled up in the dark brown locks, gently tugging and encouraging the movements of his lover.

Cas kept moving, kept teasing, kept Dean on the edge of bliss. Before it became too much, Dean pulled away. Cas looked up in confusion, licking his lips to keep them moist.

"Cas, Angel, I want more than just your mouth, as amazing that was." Dean pulled Cas to his feet and lead him to the bed. He pulled a bottle of lube out of the nightstand and set it on top before laying back on the bed. "Crawl up between my legs?"

Cas obliged and his hand was taken by Dean who had grabbed the bottle of lube from the table. He helped Cas wrap his hand around himself and start to stroke himself. "That's it." Dean lost the ability to breathe as he watched Cas jerk off over top of him. "Damn, you're beautiful, Cas."

"You're beautiful too, Dean." He leaned down and kissed Dean, his breath catching as their cocks brushed against each other.

"You like that?" Dean pressed their two cocks together and wrapped his hand around them. "You like how they feel when they rub up together?"

Cas closed his eyes, his head falling back as he started to thrust into Dean's hand.

"Look at you, Cas. such a fast learner." Dean raised his hips to match Cas' thrusts, his hand stroking their cocks in tandem. "Does this feel good for you, Angel?"

Cas nodded, before remembering he should use the words that he had taken for granted not that long ago. "It feels so good, Dean. This feels so good being with you."

Dean reached up with his free hand to take Cas' hand into his, They continued to move in rhythm together, their thrusts pushing each other closer to release. Dean's hit first, the pleasurable assault from Cas' tongue having already put him at the edge. Cas, seeing and feeling Dean's release, came just a couple thrusts later, barely able to stay up with Dean's support. He slowly laid down on top of his human, a quick snap to whisk away all the sweat and sticky mess.

After taking a moment to catch their breaths, Cas climbed up next to Dean and laid next to him on the bed. Dean rolled over, resting his head under Cas' chin. "You know, we're never going to hear the end of this, Angel."

"The end of what?" Cas kissed the top of Dean's head. "That we slept together?"

"No, that we figured out our feelings for each other because of a curse." Dean yawned before continuing, "I'm sure Sam's already texting everyone and their brother."

"Are you ashamed?" Cas looked down. "Would you rather be quiet about us?

Finding a patch of cold concrete to lean against, he burrows his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and props a foot back against the wall. A few feet from him, two thin-skinned adults with scraggly hair stand close together, sharing a packet of cigarettes. They look like crackheads, or maybe meth addicts. He should give them Gabriel’s card. Whatever Ellen said about his eighteenth birthday creeping closer, and the likelihood of his next arrest sending him to the penitentiary next time, drugs are the most lucrative opportunity for someone with no address, no education, and few prospects. Yes, Castiel could enter therapy for his speech issues like Ellen suggested, and he could find himself some shitty part-time job, and he could live in a home or a shelter until he managed to pull himself out of the gutter. But the gutter was the place that took him when he was finally hauled from his uncle’s basement at nine years old. The gutter is what he knows. And the gutter has Dean.

Snapping his fingers again, he manages to catch the methheads attention. He mines a request for a smoke. Despite Ellen’s concerns, communicating with others has never been an issue when he actually wants to. They scowl at him, tell him to fuck off, but he soon silences their objections when he flashes two shiny quarters proffered between his fingers. Ellen gave him the money for the bus, out of her own measly public defender salary, but walking is free and money is scarce. It’s better used for instances like this. Fifty cents, with Gabriel’s card sandwiched between the coins, assures Castiel of two new commissions and a cigarette. He ducks his head close to accept a light from the woman and then touches his fingers to his chin in thanks. They probably don’t know sign language, but that’s all right.

Castiel doesn’t really know sign language either. He knows two handfuls of vocabulary from ASL, but the language his hands create is a pidgin dialect of his own design. Dean is the only other fluent speaker, having helped Castiel invent it during those long, far away nights they used to lie grasping for each other on that mattress on the floor, the scars around Castiel’s throat still fresh and Dean’s nightmares keeping him awake with the sound of her sobs and the fresh, wet patches seeping across the mattress. Dean didn’t stop wetting the bed until she was twelve, but she made Castiel keep it a secret even then, eight years old and already too proud to ask for help.

It takes another forty minutes for Dean to finish her conversation. Castiel smokes, and leans, and waits. The protection of the arch does little to steel against the cold. They’ll need to sleep body to body tonight, if they don’t want to freeze to death. Rolling her shoulders up and scowling like something about it all irritates her, Dean stalks over to him, green eyes bright in the firelight and hard with accusation.

“Why the hell are you here, Cas?”

[Looking for you], he signs back, gestures short and sharp. If Dean’s going to be a bitch, he can be a bitch right back. [I got out today. I had court today.]

Dean scoffs, chin jerking up in an abbreviated nod. Like that’s news to her. Like she forgot.

[You weren’t at the home], Castiel signs again. [Chuck said you went for a walk. Two weeks ago.] He punctuates the time difference with an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well.” Dean’s shoulders hunch higher under her too large coat. Despite its material, its size forbids insulation, hanging off her frame. “I had business.” What that could mean, Castiel doesn’t know. Usually the more cryptic Dean is, the less well it bodes. “And it’s not like you were around anyway.”

She throws it down between them like a gauntlet. When Castiel tilts his head to the side in atonement, Dean jerks her eyes away. He knows she misses him when he’s arrested and serving time, even if she dislikes to admit it.

He touches two soft fingers to her chin, requesting her attention. Dean flinches from him at first, but her eyes follow his fingers as he forms his hand into a lowercase d and nudges it against his cheek twice, a one-two tap. Dean swallows and Castiel smiles, private and pleased, and draws the length of his index finger against her cheek, finishing the greeting. That sign only belongs to her, a secret for just them, the only name Castiel gave someone.

[Hello, Dean], it says.

Dean blows out a growling breath. “You’re such a dick,” she grumbles, but there’s a hint of a wry smile there. Castiel grins back, and then Dean is stepping into his arms, her coat falling open around both of them, her head tucking perfect against his neck. “Hey, Cas,” she whispers, breath puffing across his collar bone. Her fingers press hard circles into his back, five up and five down his spine. “You get community service this time round? Or did they let you off with time served?”

He taps twice against the small of her back to signify the second one. Dean huffs. “Figures. They’d rather let you rot in there than actually do something.”

Wrapped up close like this, it’s impossible for him to sign to her. But these are the moments Castiel will never regret his lack of speech. Growing warm with Dean pressed all against his front are the times everything feels perfect for once, the small indents of scars left around Castiel’s neck and Dean’s leather jacket meaning nothing. Nothing can touch them when they’re together like this. Dean lights up every cell in his body, leaving him still inside and content, right on the precipice of something electric and exciting.

Dean always pulls away before he can find out what it is. “Did you eat?” she asks, grabbing his hand and leading him back to a lower section of bridge, where someone laid out cardboard and a few ragged sleeping bags to protect from the cold ground.

[Sandwich], he signs one handed, when she glances back at him for the answer. [Chuck. Cheese.] He hand-spells both words. Dean’s palm against his is warm and dry, and she braided their pinkies together on accident, by habit. It makes a heat he can’t recognize rise to his cheeks.

“Cheese sandwich. Got it,” Dean says, giving him a funny look. Castiel smiles back at her, lopsided, flustered, and Dean knocks with a soft laugh against his side. “You’re such a dork. Why does Meg think you’re cool?”

Meg kissed him once at Gabriel’s apartment, when Dean was in the bedroom with another boy. He didn’t like it.

[You think I’m cool], he signs, when Dean releases his hand to spread out one of the sleeping bags, zipping it up to a second and making space for two. [You think I’m hot.]

The teasing feels daring, summons big winged birds to flap wildly in Castiel’s stomach. But Dean just laughs at him. “Where did you get that from? I know cells in juvie ain’t co-ed.” Dean leers at him, and at first Castiel doesn’t understand, and then realizes Dean is implying he interacted with the other boys like this.

But it’s just Dean. It’s always been just Dean.

[I don’t know.] He throws in a shrug on top of it and ignores the low swoop of disappointment in his chest. He’d like if Dean thought he was–hot. Attractive. He thinks Dean is beautiful.

Tugging off her boots and throwing them into the bottom of the sleeping bag for safekeeping, she slides her legs through the layers of blue and green plastic, and then pats the ground next to her. Castiel repeats the actions with his shoes, and then sits where Dean suggested. Their socked feet brush against each other in the recesses of the sleeping bag. Castiel nuzzles his toes into the bottom of Dean’s foot, tilting his head and lifting one corner of his mouth in question.

“We got to sleep like this tonight,” Dean says, looking everywhere but him, as if Castiel hadn’t surmised that yet. “Together. It’s too cold otherwise.”

Castiel leans into her shoulder for comfort, unsure what discomfort’s weighing on Dean but wanting to ease it. Then he slips farther into the bag, and pillows his head in the valley between her thighs, staring up at her. They can sleep like this. He wants to. He’s happy to.

Dean stares down at him for a long moment, eyes wide with surprise, and then her mouth curls in a taunting smile. Her fingers skate under his hood, pushing it off, and then trail, gentle and affectionate, through the strands of his hair. “Oh, so you think that’s how it’s going to be,” Dean needles. “You think I’m just going to sit here and let you use me as your pillow all night?”

That wasn’t his intention but now that Dean’s suggested it, he finds he wants little else. Closing his eyes, he raises his eyebrows at the same time, letting the blank, innocent expression speak for him. Dean flicks him in the ear, sharp, and huffs a laugh.

“Dick.”