#spnccnet

Fast forward forty-five minutes and Cas is more nervous than he’s ever been. “I’ve perfected a new trick, too,” he says, out of breath as he stares hard at the ceiling. He’s sweaty and warm and sleepy, but he cannot  “If it works, it’ll be my best one yet.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean murmurs. “Let’s see it.”

Castiel has to take a deep breath to compose himself, but he nods his acquiescence.

“Do you need me anywhere specific?”

“No. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Aw shucks, Cas, you sure do know how to sweet talk a guy.”

Can gives a little nervous laugh in reply before steeling himself once more, rolling out from under the covers and using expert slight of hand to procure the ring he’d sewn into a make-shift pocket of the comforter. With a small flourish, he holds the piece of jewelry in his right fingers, grasping the covers tightly with his left:

“Dean,” Cas says. “In the three years we’ve been seeing each other, I have fallen deeply in love with you. Now, I present myself before you as my greatest trick: no bells and whistles, no fanfare, no audience… just one man asking another for his hand. After all,” he continues, swallowing thickly and looking at the sheets before forcing his gaze back up. “If I’ve managed to convince you I am worthy of you for the rest of my life, that’s the greatest trick of all.”

Dean is speechless; overwhelmed. He can barely think for how loudly his heart is beating, let alone get his mouth to work. Across from him, Cas begins to panic.

“Dean?” Castiel jokes. His playful smile is forced and cracking quickly. “Be advised: your answer could make or break my career.”

His answer is so soft Cas can barely hear it once it’s uttered:

"...No."

Cas can literally feel his heart splinter and shatter in slow motion. "O-Oh," he croaks. "Well, this is embarrassing. I'll just--"

But when he makes to move, Dean grabs his arm. "No!" the other exclaims. "I mean: yes, but no."

Cas frowns. "I don't..."

Before Castiel can finish his thought, he's being kissed within an inch of his life. He emerges from the contact breathless, eyes wide as Dean smiles blindingly at him. "Yes I'll marry you, dumbass," the other says. "No, this isn’t your best trick."

"But--"

"Like I needed to be tricked to marry you." Dean shakes his head. "Bullshit. We're worthy of each other, you goob. If anything--"

"Don't." Cas is practically vibrating. "Do not belittle yourself right now."

"Only if you don't, Mr. Fiancé."

At the slightly awkward pet name, Castiel smiles so widely his nose wrinkles and his gums show. "Okay."

Another smile. "Okay."

Pulling him in, Cas presses their mouths together. Almost immediately after, he's sliding the ring onto Dean's finger and beaming into the other's lips. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have officially turned this regular, though no less wonderful man, into a fiancé."

Upon making this realization, Dean feels all his strength leave him and pulls in his angel more tightly, haphazardly wiping at his own eyes. He touches Cas wherever he can reach—a hand splayed on the small of his back and fingers tracing the lines of his legs, pulling them over Dean’s own—before leaning in and pressing a salty kiss to the angel’s cheek. “Come back,” he says, desperate against the other’s skin. “Don’t do this, Cas, come back.”

Cas’s head flops to the side.

Dean swallows his sob.

He nods to himself, sniffling and licking his tear-soaked lips. He pushes hair from Cas’s face. “Okay,” he mutters to himself, tone suddenly verging on manic. “Okay, it’s okay; we’re okay. I’m gonna take real good care of you. Promise. You won’t have to worry about a thing, alright? Cas…” A breath. “Don’t make me bury you.” He’s begging, now, pleading; and he doesn’t give a damn. “Not ever, I never want to… to…” Dean shakes his head. “But especially not now. You don’t know how... how much I...” He jostles Cas, then, teeth gritted: “You can’t die without knowing!”

Still unresponsive, Dean feels his heart sink. Once again, he smoothes back Cas’s hair, though this time his lips follow: he presses his mouth to the angel’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Even though it’s almost impossible to wrap his head around, he holds Castiel as close as he can and grieves. End of the line—God is dying and there are no more do-overs.

From the other side of the room, Sam crawls over to huddle with his brother. They stay there long past the point of aching muscles and damn near intolerable pain.

And then…

Cas snaps back to life, back arching and mouth taking a huge gulp of air before the angel coughs. His hands grip the material of Dean’s shirt and Dean’s heart all but stops: is he hallucinating?

But Cas manages to choke out his name—Dean. Hallucination or no, Castiel is breathing, he’s—“Cas?!”

Cas coughs again.

“Sammy—water! Get him some—”

With wide eyes, Sam stumbles to his feet, limping towards the door and therefore the Impala as Dean raises a hand to cup his angel’s face. “Hey,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over the skin. He leans in until they’re practically nose-to-nose. “Hey.”

“D-Dean?”

A watery, trembling smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Hi. Hi, Cas.”

“Dean—” More coughing.

“Shh, you’re okay. I got you, okay? You’re alright.” Dean tucks non-existent hair back, then, fingers continuing to touch and trace his angel’s face almost obsessively. “Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Cas breathes for a moment before his face twists into a frown. “No,” he croaks. “Dean, no.”

“Yes,” Dean counters. “How can you—yes.”

When it becomes clear Castiel is going to refute this, Dean presses fingers to his lips. “I’m sorry, Cas,” he breathes. “I’m sorry I only call you when I need you; I’m sorry I used you like a tool instead of treating you like a friend; I—I didn’t do it on purpose. I just got so caught up in saving Sam and then I was demon and you always just seemed so together and it all just…”

Dean’s breath hitches when Cas raises a hand to his cheek, brushing his fingertips along a cheekbone and to the tip of his ear. “S’okay,” the angel rasps.

“No, it’s not.” The hunter’s vision is blurred again, and he buries his face in the juncture of Cas’s neck. “It’s not okay because you’re more than a hammer and a warrior. You’re my friend, my best friend, and I haven’t stopped worrying about you since you said yes. Cas, I would die for you a hundred times over. I would—” He pauses here, swallowing. Castiel is completely still. “I am so sorry I made you feel like you’re expendable or don’t matter; you do. You matter so much, Cas. I love you so much, and I just got so caught up I never…”

Cas’s heart is racing against Dean’s chest, the angel’s hands still gripping tight to the other’s shirt as they breathe together. Dean has no idea what’s taking Sam, but he hopes he comes back soon. Cas needs water and he needs rest. They should go.

He voices this, taking an affirming breath and leaning back.

Cas’s blue eyes are shining.

They’re filled with tears, droplets spilling over to run down his cheeks as the angel stares at him, awed. Dean doesn’t deserve it. He about to say so when Cas leans in applies a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay,” the angel says in his gravel voice, all cracked and exhausted. “It’s over.”

“Cas, no, that’s not—”

“Shhh.” A smile. A real, honest-to-God smile. “I love you. We’ll work on forgiveness.”

A beat, and Cas suddenly looks less sure. “Kiss me?”

“Yeah—yes, of course. “

Sam shakes his head. “No,” he mutters. “No; he’s unchecked power that he wields at his own will. He’s not impartial. Stark was right; the Avengers are as good as vigilantes and the bad guys they’re fighting if they work outside the law. I mean, you do know that we have laws for a reason, right? The UN is the best, unbiased option—”

“Ohhh, you wanna talk unbiased law? Okay, lawyer boy, tell me: who the fuck runs the security council, huh? Oh yeah, the fuckin’ western world, so who the hell is Tony to slam his own task force for being American—”

“That’s not fair—”

“You’re damn right it’s not. And hey, while we’re at it, let’s look at the UN’s track record. They can never agree on anything long enough to make a fucking decision. Not only that, but Cap was right: every goddamn country has their own agenda. You put the United Nations as the Avengers’ leash and they’ll be too busy fighting over where and when to send them that nothing’ll get done at all.”

“I don’t think you’re giving them enough credit.”

“I’m sorry, were we watching the same movie? Look at what happened, Sam—you’re giving them way too much!”

“Tony signed the accord for the right reasons, tell me you can’t empathize with that!”

“Well so did Cap! And what the hell was with Tony blaming Bucky for being brainwashed?! Tell me you can’t empathize with that!”

“Dean, you can’t just run around and do whatever the hell you want and hurt people in the process. You can’t. Even if you do it for the right reasons, you need to seriously check yourself if you think that’s okay.”

“We do that all the time, Sam!”

“Well, we’re learning, aren’t we?! To respect each other’s decisions, to save people over anything and everything else?! Jesus, Dean, did you even see the end?! Steve almost killed Tony for Bucky and his own principles! That’s—that was one-hundred-percent us when we were putting each other first and it’s wrong.”

Dean shakes his head, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I can’t believe you’re siding with Tony.” Green eyes flicking up towards the rearview mirror, the hunter raises a brow. “And what about you guys? You two’ve been real quiet back there: Tony or Team Cap?”

“Nuh uh,” Charlie replies. “I’m waiting until you’ve calmed down to reveal which side I’m on.”

Cas remains silent.

The ride back to the bunker is tense—a lot more tense than it should be after seeing a dumb superhero movie—but whatever. Dean parks the Impala in the garage and Sam huffs and slams the door on the way inside. The hunter rolls his eyes at his younger brother’s dramatics and watches Cas disappear into the bunker as well.

Charlie stares at Dean with an unimpressed raised brow. “I get that tensions run high in fandom,” she says. “But you do understand that it’s a movie, right? This is real life, and you and Sam are stronger together than apart. You’re on the same side—the right side—in this universe. You’re not Cap, Dean.”

Dean nods shortly. “Yeah, I know, Charlie.”

“Good,” she replies. “Well, now that that’s over, I’m gonna play some Fire Emblem until I pass out. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Charlie walks towards the door, then, pausing with her hand on the handle as she looks back. “Oh, and Dean?”

Dean looks up from his shoes. “Yep.”

“I hope you know that Steve is totally in love with Bucky, and that’s why he was so gung-ho about saving him.”

The door slams shut, leaving Dean alone, and the hunter sighs.

He drags his hand over his face, trudging inside himself and making a beeline for his own bed. Laying down, the hunter closes his eyes and only manages five minutes of peace before the mattress kind-of-dips beside him.

“You should talk to your brother.”

Cas.

Dean sighs again and opens his eyes, reaching out to tangle his fingers with those of his boyfriend. “I know.”

“Still,” Cas says, looking down at their joined hands. “I should tell you right now that I’m Team Cap.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. But I think it has more to do with you than anything else.”

Dean smiles slightly before looking up at the ceiling and blowing a raspberry, tugging his partner down to lay against him. He buries a hand in Cas’s dark hair. “I know what you mean,” he murmurs. “I mean, how am I supposed to be on the other guy’s team—you’re my Bucky. Literally. And like, you and Sam and Charlie, you guys are the most important people in my life, hands down, but if it was between saving you and disagreeing with Sam…” A breath. “No contest. I mean, fuck, I love you, Cas, I could never…”

Cas nods against his clavicle, looking up and pressing his fingertips to the bow of Dean’s mouth. “I know,” he whispers. “I feel the same.”

“But how could Sam—”

Cas’s fingers press more insistently. “I think that it’s very good,” he muses. “That this reality is not that fictional universe.” A beat, during which Cas moves his hand and lightly presses their mouths together. “You are Dean, and he is Sam, and I am Cas, and we’re all on the same side… even if I am your Bucky.”

Dean exhales a breath against Cas’s lips, holding his boyfriend more tightly. He’s relaxing, slowly but surely, and gives a real, albeit small, smile. “Does that make me your Cap?”

Cas hums, pressing their mouths together again. “Only in that you’re dashingly handsome—” A kiss. “And strong.” A kiss. “And wholly good.” He pulls back then, tilting his head to the side with a grin. “The rest is different, and I’d rather have you.”

Dean swallows thickly and digs his fingers into the meat of Cas’s hips.

At the sweet little peck Dean delivers to Castiel’s stubbled cheek, the latter feels his mouth turn dry. He barely manages another nod before his mittened hand is being scooped up and they enter the bakery.

The place in itself is adorable and smells divine, its old hardwood floors squeaking slightly as they shuffle towards the display case. Everything is white and light blue, with sturdy wooden tables and an old-style counter. Chalkboards boast the cake of the day, and fresh bread overflows huge wicker baskets near a large coffee machine.

“Hi there, can I help you?”

The man behind the counter can’t be much older than they are, and he sits on a stool next to the antique-looking register while doodling in a notebook. He has flour on his cheek and icing on his apron and smiles charmingly, brown eyes warm and black hair in disarray under a battered baseball cap. He’s staring a lot at Cas in particular, and before the blue-eyed man can open his mouth, Dean steps in with a lush kiss to the corner of his mouth.

It’s incredibly embarrassing, but Castiel feels himself sigh.

“Yeah, we’re here for the free wedding cake tasting,” Dean says. There’s a sharpness to his voice that’s slightly confusing. “Because we’re engaged. To be married. To each other.”

The man behind the counter raises an amused brow. “Right.”

“Right.” Dean’s smile is just this side of too-sugary-sweet. “So, how does this work; do we choose flavours? Do you have a menu…?”

“We’ll provide a selection of every wedding cake we have available,” the man says. “I’ll go get my pastry chef, and we’ll all sit down and figure out flavours. In the mean time, do you guys want to have a seat? I’ll bring some coffee by if that’s something you’re interested in?”

“Um, just plain black for me, thanks,” Dean says.

When the man looks at Castiel expectantly, he shakes his head and mutters a ‘no thank you’. This is because Dean still hasn’t removed his arm from Cas’s shoulders.

“Okay: one plain black, and I’ll bring some water in case everyone gets thirsty later. Any allergies we should be aware of? Any favourite flavours?”

“No allergies,” Dean says easily. “But I’m a fan of anything resembling pie and he loves honey. Right, sweetheart?”

“R-Right.”

They both stare at the man as he looks between them, clearly not convinced. He hums once before nodding and stepping forward. “Will do. I’m Daniel, by the way. I own this place.”

“Dean. Good to meet you.”

“Cas.”

Brown eyes look unwavering into blue as Daniel smiles. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

As he walks away, Dean scoffs. “What a fuckin’ creep. If he wasn’t giving us free cake, I’d take my business elsewhere.”

Cas bites his lip. “I don’t think he believes us.”

“So that gives him that right to flirt with you?? What if we were actually engaged?!”

“I don’t know,” Castiel shrugs. He makes his way to a table and begins removing his winterwear. Dean follows closely behind. “Perhaps he believes this is the way to expose us.”

“I’m just saying, it’s unprofessional,” Dean continues. A beat. “And gross. Unless you’re into him or something then I guess it’s fine—um, are you into him?”

Cas pauses before dropping his coat onto the chair, brow raised almost to his hairline. “He’s flirting with me despite the fact that we’re trying wedding cakes,” he says, incredulous. “That’s no basis for a relationship.”

Dean’s expression is beyond smug. “Exactly!” Shedding his own coat and scarf, he sits on the nearest chair, leaning forward with a frown. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been kinda off; nervous.”

Immediately, Castiel’s eyes turn wide. “W-What?” His voice is at least two octaves higher than normal. “No, I’m fine. I mean, other than the fact that we’re lying to obtain free pastry I’m—I’m great.”

“Okay,” Dean replies, though he’s not convinced. “You sure? ‘Cause we can—”

“Dean? Cas?” Daniel says, coming out from behind the counter. He carries a large binder. “This Natalie, she’s our pastry chef and she’ll be helping us walk through the cakes.”

It’s absolute torture.

While Castiel is certain the cake is good—judging solely by Dean’s enthusiastic response to every bite-sized piece—he is honestly too distracted to taste anything. He hums and nods with his friend’s assessment of each dessert, all the while attempting not to blush every time Dean smiles or leans into him.

Judging by how Daniel continues to look at him, Cas comes to the conclusion that he fails miserably.

“Alright, so this is a fresh orange, honey and ricotta wedding cake with vanilla bean frosting,” Natalie explains. “Depending on your colours, we can flavour the icing with orange as well to make it a light yellow, or we can keep it white and do caramel honeycombs for decoration. Do you have any idea how many guests you’ll be having?”

“Um—”

“Less than a hundred people,” Castiel interrupts. He clears his throat as all three people look at him, Dean trying to curb his surprise while Natalie smiles and makes a note on the pad she brought to the table. He means to stop talking, he really does, but it’s like once he’s started he can’t keep from throwing himself headlong into the fantasy. “It’s mostly family,” Cas volunteers. “Dean’s is coming in from California and Kansas, and mine is making the trip from Illinois. We’ve managed to convince his uncle to let us use the old barn on the very edge of his property as a venue, so it’ll be very small. A family friend is catering the meal, but we wanted to see if we could fit a real cake into our meagre budget.”

“Lovely,” Natalie comments. Daniel appears to be gobsmacked. “I love small weddings. What’s your set date?”

“September 18th.”

“Mmm, you should have great weather. And do you have any idea what your colours are yet, or...?”

“Ah…” Cas falters here, biting his lip. “We’ve been talking about a few different things but we’re not certain yet. I’m a fan of bees, however, so I’m pushing for soft yellow somewhere and at some point.”

“Well, this cake would work great,” Natalie says. “And if you’re going to have such a small guestlist, we can work something out price-wise for you two.” A smile. “So. How did you two meet?”

“College,” Dean murmurs, but his voice is dazed. When Castiel turns, he finds his best friend staring at him with a ridiculous grin on his face. It makes Cas smile, too. “He, uh, worked in the library and I spent all my time trying to get his attention.”

Which… isn’t actually so far from the truth. Trying to curb an even wider grin, Cas cocks his head to the side. Something’s changed, hasn’t it? Between Castiel opening his mouth and Dean sharing the way they’d met… something is different, somehow. More intense. And… fuller.

Daniel clears his throat, and Dean and Cas are made aware they’ve been staring at each other. “Oh, right.” Dean twitches nervously. “Uh, here, Cas.”

He spears a piece of cake on his fork and offers it in the space between them.

The world seems to be moving in slow motion as Castiel leans in and closes his lips around the tines of the fork, pulling back with pink cheeks and nodding vigorously as he chews. “Good,” he mumbles through his full mouth.

Dean grins and forks the rest past his own lips. “Mmhm.”

The rest of their appointment is… weirdly charged, but good. Cas doesn’t stutter anymore, and he becomes so desensitized to Dean’s proximity that the other kissing his temple merely sends his heart racing and makes his cheeks warm instead of causing him to lock-up and stutter. They’re so convincing, in fact, that by the time the appointment is over, Daniel is asking them if they’d like to order a cake.

To which, of course, Dean purses his lips and shrugs. “I’m not sure how I feel getting wedding cake from a guy who tried to pick up my fiancée. We’ll think about it.”

It shouldn’t be funny, but the adrenaline and closeness makes everything ten times more real and good, and by the time Dean and Cas reach the end of the street, their hands still clasped together, they’ve all but collapsed onto each other in laughter.

“Oh man, that was great.”

“It appears we were convincing.”

“Fuck yeah we ere convincing!” Dean crows. “You knocked it out of the park! All that stuff about… about the venue and our families? I even believed it. Hell, I’d honestly love to go to that wedding.”

Though it’s said jokingly, the weight of Dean’s words cause the air between them to fall flat, chests stuttering as they stare. “Um,” Cas says inelegantly, swallowing thickly. He steps away with bright red cheeks and ducks his head. “I had a—great time. It was, uh…”

Dean’s thumb his brushing over his cheekbone.

“Sorry,” the other murmurs sweetly. “You just. You had something.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, anytime.”

More staring.

“Hey, so I have a question,” Dean says slowly. “Would I be… completely off-base if I kissed you right now?” At Castiel’s wide-eyed silence, the freckle-faced man begins to babble. “It’s just that we’ve known each other for a while and I wasn’t lying when I told that Natalie chick how we met only I had talked to you because I was into you but then you were nice in friendly kinda way and things just kinda progressed so I’ve kinda been low-key in love with you for like five years but then you went on about our weddings and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t just off the top of your head so like, maybe you’ve thought about our wedding and maybe you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you but you look like you can’t breathe right now which probably means I’m wrong so—yeah. Let’s just forget this ever happened, huh? I’m gonna go.”

But as he turns away, Castiel’s body finally catches up to his brain. “Wait!” he exclaims, jumping forward and spinning his friend around. And it’s supposed to be perfect and romantic, but Dean hasn’t stopped moving when Cas starts leaning in, and instead of kissing, the pair end up knocking their heads together. Painfully, despite Castiel’s hat.

“…You think we can try that again?” Dean asks, still holding his skull.

Cas’s grin is blinding, and he’s about as red as the angry bump on his forehead, but he nods enthusiastically and all but throws himself at his best friend, unable to stop his sigh once their lips finally meet. Kissing Dean is soft and warm and wonderful, and Castiel can barely contain himself as he presses them together through their winter coats, arms wrapped around the other’s shoulders while hands grip his jacket-covered hips.

“I know that marriage is a little sudden,” Cas pants as he pulls away, resting their heads together. “But would you like to go for dinner tonight? And then—” Unable to resist, the blue-eyed man presses their mouths together. “And then possibly engage in coitus?”

Dean blushes so gorgeous and dark, his freckles stand out starkly against his flushed. “That sounds—yeah,” he breathes, leaning in for another kiss. “Yeah.”

They don’t visit A Little Something Bakery for another three years… but when they do go back, they know exactly which cake they want.