Work Text:
"I can’t believe he’s doing this," Dean says for the fifth time as he flips through the channels. Sometimes he stops but the show never holds his attention for long before he’s flipping again.
Sam, sitting in the armchair, casually flips a page of his book. “If you don’t want him to go, ask him not to.”
"Oh, yeah, sure," Dean laughs, half-hysterical. "Hey, Cas, I know you are super excited about your date but if you could please, uh, not, that would be great.” He huffs. “I don’t think so, Sammy.”
"Dean."
"Don’t start," Dean warns, pointing the remote at Sam in the most intimidating way he can manage - which isn’t very. When he relaxes back into the couch, he starts flipping channels again. "He’s allowed to do things."
"So are you," Sam says.
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Sam says with patience. "That you should go talk to him."
"Yeah, right," Dean says because no way.
"Before it’s too late," Sam says. At Dean’s head shake, he adds, "Before you lose him."
*
Castiel stares at himself in the mirror hanging on the back of his closet door. This is the third outfit he has tried on - the third outfit he absolutely refuses to wear. All of his outfits were picked out on shopping excursions with Dean - or straight from Dean’s closet - and because Cas loves Dean, he doesn’t want to be reminded of Dean on this date.
With much inner debate, Cas settles on an old standard, pulling out his tan trenchcoat from the back of his closet. Though the coat has many memories of Cas’s time with Dean, it also has those without, and remembering he was once an angel might help him now, he reasons. He’s having doubts. He doesn’t really want to do this.
I love Dean, his heart and mind concur, but Cas shoves those thoughts away. Dean may love him, but he would never love him the way Cas wants. Cas has seen the way Dean flirts and he has never been on the receiving end of such affections.
"Cas? Are you -"
He’s just slipped his arms into the sleeves of the coat when Dean knocks on the door and it slowly opens. Dean’s voice falls when he looks at Cas with slightly widening eyes. When he speaks again, his voice cracks midway through.
"Are you wearing that?"
Cas looks down at himself then up at Dean, who has turned pale. “You don’t like it?”
"No, no, I do," Dean says quickly.
"Do you think he will?" Cas asks.
Dean’s entire face seems to fall. He frowns. His brows droop at the outside edges. Even his gaze drops to the ground. “Yeah,” he says, voice soft. “I’m sure he’ll like it.”
*
If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his teeth in, Dean thinks, followed quickly by, If he hurts you, he’ll never see another day.
Something uncomfortable and bile-like is crawling up his esophagus. The possessive part of his brain wants to grab Castiel and never let him go - never let anyone else have him.
Maybe if Dean was sure this guy would be good to Cas, could appreciate and love him, care for him when he’s sick or cold or scared or has nightmares. Make his coffee just the way he likes it in the morning. Ruffle his hair when he sleeps too late and its all sticking out in different directions. Kiss him whenever he comes into the room because it’s Cas and he’s perfect and he’s here.
“Cas,” Dean says, tired and scared and frustrated all at once. The word sounds broken.
Cas’s brow crinkles in concern. “Dean?”
Dean wants to tell him everything, that he loves him, that he wants to be with him, that he wants to wake up every morning to Cas’s grumpy morning self.
But Dean looks at Cas, bright and excited for his date, standing there in that same trenchcoat Dean has loved for years and he can’t. If this is what Cas wants, then this is what Cas should have.
Tears prickle under Dean’s eyes but he blinks them back.
"Have a nice time, Cas," Dean says. He stops for air, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. "I hope… I hope he’s everything you need."
Then Dean turns and walks out. He passes Sam on the way to his bedroom. Sam stops when he sees him.
"It’s already too late," Dean whispers. He goes into his room and locks the door.
*
Cas is sitting on the edge of his bed when Sam knocks on his door. He looks up with red rings under his eyes and Sam for the life of him can’t figure out what Dean was talking about.
"What happened?" Sam asks. "You okay?"
"He doesn’t…" Cas starts, stops. He takes a shaky breath. His bottom lip trembles and he bites it. "Dean doesn’t…"
"Bullshit," Sam says. His patience waning, he takes a large step into the room. "He’s tearing himself apart right now."
"That doesn’t mean anything," Cas says and sniffles.
"Cas," Sam says, annoyance crumpling under Cas’s blue doe eyes. He sits beside Cas and places a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe it’s time you just tell him you love him."
"It’s not that simple," Cas says.
"Maybe it should be."
*
Sitting with his back against the door, Dean has his head in his hands, hating life in general and in particular, some unknown asshole dating his angel. He’s halfway through deciding where to hide the body when there is a knock on his door.
"Go away, Sammy," Dean grumbles, voice raw from not crying, damnit.
"Dean?" comes a small voice through the door and - that’s Cas!
Dean’s on his feet so fast he feels a little dizzy as he yanks open the door. Cas is standing there, still wearing that trenchcoat that Dean carried around in the trunk of his car for the better part of a year once and what did that asshole do to deserve to see Cas like this?
Dean opens his mouth, but Cas speaks first.
"I love you, Dean."
Dean blinks.
"I love you," Cas says again. He’s fumbling with the belt of his coat. "And I wanted you to know it before…"
"Your date," Dean finishes.
"Yes," Cas says. He takes a breath. "I want my date to be with you. I want all my dates to be with you." He looks up at Dean with eyes big and vulnerable and Christ. Dean doesn’t answer right away, too surprised and unsure even though his heart feels like it’s taking off for the moon. “I can go,” Cas says, frowning now, and starts to turn.
Panic quakes through Dean’s body. Cas is leaving. Cas is going to be with someone else. Cas doesn’t think Dean loves him.
Dean reaches for Cas and pulls him into his arms, tight and safe and here. Dean drops his head to the junction of Cas’s neck and shoulder and inhales. Castiel is here. Castiel is his.
"Dean?"
"Don’t go," Dean whispers. "Stay."
"Dean."
"I love you, too."