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Chapter Text

(12, 001 words)

'Destiel,' they call it (although he still thinks it should be 'Deastiel'). One of the most epic love stories out there about the angel that fell from Heaven and the human that egged him on and caught him when he fell. Dean and Castiel with their 'profound bond' that transcends Heaven and Hell and everything in between, their deep love for one another solving anything and everything wrong in the world.

Well, that's what those high school girls and their Supernatural musical thought, at least. Sam, of course, sees not only a different story, but a different library and a book made out of something entirely different than paper and ink. This is because unlike optimistic high schoolers that read through the books Chuck is still pumping out regularly, Sam actually lives with the two idiots and unwittingly gets a front row seat to their so-called 'profound bond'.

What started out as something that secretly amused and even comforted Sam with its…sameness during the ever-changing uncertainty of one apocalypse or the next has become beyond frustrating in its stagnancy. No matter what happens, the morons known as Dean and Castiel never move past the lines of red tape boxing them in together in this weird queer-not-so-platonic relationship they have going on.

And yeah, it's technically not Sam's business—and he really wishes it weren't his business—but what's he even supposed to do when he returns to the motel room of the week with a bag of something greasy and disgusting (most of the decent places are closed by now) to find Dean and Cas staring at each other from no more than eight inches away?

Now, this is far from a new occurrence by now unfortunately, so Sam just does what he always does and clears his throat pointedly until Dean's eyes snap to him, somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed, and Cas' eyes almost painfully tear away from Dean as he looks up, openly curious, head preemptively starting to tip to the side.

"Got food," Sam says simply.

Dean glances back at Cas and licks his lips, nods once, then finally looks back at him. "What did you get?"

"Chicken sandwiches." Dean makes a face, but still digs in like a ravenous wolf the second he's presented with the wrapped sandwich. Not for the first time, Sam wonders if Dean's love of food stems from being deprived (and depriving himself for Sam's sake if there wasn't enough) of it when they were kids. "Good?"

Dean grumbles incomprehensibly, not acknowledging the sandwich aloud even as half of it disappears in a single bite. He's not really sure why Dean seems to think chicken sandwiches are healthier than burgers, but he doesn't try to ask again, instead looking at Cas, whose eyes are unsurprisingly locked on Dean as a dopey expression comes to his face.

Sam sometimes wonders what the hell is wrong with his brother and if he's really completely oblivious or if he's just an idiot; if Sam had somebody looking at him the way Cas looks at Dean, he would've popped the question forever ago. He almost did get to marry Jess, and they certainly never had the kind of relationship Dean and Cas have, not the least of which is due to her being entirely unaware of Sam being a hunter and the supernatural in general.

Really, it probably wouldn't have been morally right for him to have married her while hiding such a huge part of his life, even if their mom apparently did the same to their dad (then again, look where that got them). At the time, he didn't even care, too busy wanting to run off and do anything and everything to show his dad that he could make it in the real world, that he could have the life he always dreamed of, that he could go out and be normal.

Obviously, things hadn't really worked out, but these days, Sam's okay with that. Years ago, he might've thought he'd have a degree under his belt and a ring on his finger by now, but at this point, he's kind of accepted this is what his life always would've been like. Besides, if he'd never gotten back into hunting, who knows what his relationship with Dean might've looked like? Beyond that, he probably never would've gotten to meet Cas or Kevin or Charlie or Rowena or Garth or Ellen and Jo or…anyone, really, and Sam can't even imagine a life like that anymore.

Still, he just can't understand why Dean would ever risk passing up the chance to live that apple pie life with someone who clearly loves him and who he clearly loves. That kind of thing doesn't really happen to hunters, which is part of why Sam wanted to get out of the hunting life in the first place. But Dean doesn't even have to do that and has been handed everything he could've wanted on a silver platter, but he's either still in denial or just dense as a brick.

And, yeah, maybe the fact that Cas is…well, that he at least appears male plays a role in all that, but those high school fangirls were right—Dean and Cas are pretty perfect for each other. They obviously care about each other considerably and get along better than Sam and Dean do half the time (Cas is pretty easy to get along with, but this goes beyond that), and Cas definitely has a soft spot for Dean but doesn't just let Dean get away with everything, and Dean keeps Cas grounded and doesn't let him and his good intentions get too far down a not-so-good road…

And yet, they have yet to go beyond mutual pining, their relationship as stagnant as a big lake with no water going in or out unless some outside force acts on it and it rains or evaporates and the water is forced to change a little. Sam's always kind of lived in Dean's pocket and vice versa from the time they were just little kids and they still remain like that to this day (though to a noticeably lesser degree since Cas came along), so Sam would know if his brother and friend finally got their heads out of their respective asses and did something about their mutual lovesickness. Dean's not nearly as subtle as he thinks, and Cas wouldn't know subtlety if it clubbed him over the head.

That's where most of the problem is, actually. Dean is unsubtle as hell, but Cas is the most oblivious person Sam's ever met. Not that he's dumb or anything, since Cas is also the smartest person he's ever met, but he just…doesn't get things that have to do with humanity or social standards or feelings. This is compounded by the fact that Dean is insistent on writing everything off as normal, dude-bro, no-homo behavior, thanks almost entirely to their dad and his views on homosexuality.

So there's the problem, and since Dean and Cas have spent years in this stagnant lake of mutual pining that Sam's been forced to be the only one of the three of them acknowledging, Sam has decided that the only kind thing to do for everyone's sake is to get the two idiots together. Only, it's easier said than done.

Dean's fragile threads of the illusion of staunch heterosexuality makes the idea of just smooshing their dumb faces together a bad one, considering Dean's likely to take it out on Sam initially and then Cas consequently as he goes even more dude-bro and pushes a really confused Cas away, just like he always does when something makes him uncomfortable.

Forcing the two of them in a closet or something and locking them in there, as nice as the symbolism would be, probably isn't a good way to go about this either, since he's pretty sure Cas would just blast the entire building around the closet away if Dean asked (or even if Dean didn't ask, since Sam's pretty convinced at this point that the two communicate telepathically via constant eye sex or something).

Of course, it'd be nice if he could just get them to talk about it, but until he finds a decent way to start that particular conversation, it's never gonna happen unless somebody starts dying, since that's the only time they ever open their traps and admit anything. Which is beyond frustrating, especially considering Dean's heavy reliance on the understood but unsaid and Cas' inability to actually pick up on any of the extremely unsubtle hints Dean may or may not be accidentally dropping.

It's not supposed to be any of his business what his brother and friend get up to in their free time, but this is insane. How many times are they gonna check into motels and have the front desk go 'do you need the first room to have one bed or two for you and your…?' before they wake up? Has Dean even realized that nobody ever thinks he and Dean are a couple anymore ever since Cas came along, that nobody's ever implied that Cas is Sam's angel or boyfriend or lap dog or whatever the word might be that day? Which Sam's happy about, of course, since being thought of as being together with Dean is gross and the implication of him and Cas being involved like that is just plain weird, but seriously, how much more do they need?

A lot, apparently. After dinner, they go out to take down the vampire's nest they'd been staking out the past few days and Cas takes a hit meant for Dean and gets a giant mouth-shaped hole in the side of his neck, blood shooting everywhere and probably ruining his trench coat once and for all (if he didn't have his grace to dry clean it back into perfection). Dean loudly calls Cas' name and kills the vampire that hurt him noticeably more aggressively than any of the others before going to Cas' side to go fuss over him.

Problem is, Cas has been a lot weaker lately, his grace already significantly weakened from the Fall. Cas, of course, hasn't said anything about it and does his best to hide it, but Sam's walked in on him passed out in the library with an open book as a pillow too many times not to have realized. Sam hasn't said anything, but he knows and he's pretty sure Dean knows too, since by the time Sam realizes anything about Cas, it's already old news to Dean.

That's why Sam's not even a little surprised when Cas grumbles, even as his hands shake and his body sways from what's clearly significant blood loss, "Dean, I'm fine."

"That's crap and you know it. You look like you're gonna keel over." Despite the gruff tone Dean definitely got from their dad, his hands are gentle where they cup Cas' face and guide his head to the side to get a better look at his injury. Sam stands there awkwardly, machete dripping blood on the floor, while Dean sucks in a breath. "Damnit, Cas. That hit was meant for me!"

"I'm able to take more damage than you are, Dean. It was just common sense."

Cas' voice is noticeably weaker than usual, and Dean must notice (of course he notices, this is Cas) since he doesn't bother responding past mumbling, "You're not my damn meat shield." Dean must only then remember Sam's there, since he's then turning around and barking orders, tossing Sam the keys to the Impala. "Bring the car around and grab the first aid kit."

Dean's attention flips back to Cas in an instant, muttering things Sam can't hear. Sam only bites back a reply of the bitchy variety because of how pale Cas is looking, instead nodding even though no one's looking at him. He hurries out with bloody machetes in hand and finds the Impala, carefully driving down the muddy incline and pulling the car in front of the barn the vampires were camped out in, leaving the car on as he jumps out.

He digs around in the trunk for the first aid kit, and by the time he finds it, Dean comes out half-dragging Cas behind him, having been drawn out by the familiar sounds of the Impala, no doubt. Dean takes the driver's seat without a word and Sam climbs in the back with Cas, applying pressure to the wound in hopes it'll help stop the bleeding.

Cas' eyes drift shut with a shaky exhale, trusting Sam to help him. A few years ago, Sam would've been freaking out at the idea of an angel trusting him enough to tend to their injuries while their full attention isn't on him, but now, Sam just pats Cas' back to try to keep him awake. He's come a long way since he was The Boy with the Demon Blood, and Cas has come a long way since he was that warrior of God that shook his hand and greeted him as such, unaware of the effect his words might've had, unaware that such a title might hurt him.

Dean floors it all the way to the motel, and by the time they stop, Sam has almost stopped the bleeding, allowing him to look at just how bad the wound is through the drying blood, allowing him to see the way that the vampire just bit in and ripped flesh away, leaving deep gashes like tire tracks through deep mud instead of defined teeth marks behind.

One of the best parts of staying in cheap motels is that nobody cares what the other guests do, instead turning a blind eye to avoid being bothered by something that doesn't actively concern them. This means that nobody even looks at them for more than a few seconds from behind the curtains of their own rooms while he and Dean haul Cas back to their motel room.

Sam checks the warding and salt lines to make sure everything's still intact while Dean flops Cas onto a bed—his own bed, of course, since Dean has always slept on the one closer to the door—and starts pulling off his clothes. Sam only just refrains from commenting (not that he thinks they'll even hear him anyway with Dean's laser-focus on Cas' neck and Cas' semi-unconsciousness) and goes to get a washcloth to wipe up the blood.

He wipes the blood away as carefully as he can while Dean pours whiskey over Cas' neck, drawing a hiss from the angel that Dean soothes away in the way he does to Sam whenever they're patching each other up and something hurts worse than expected. Only, Dean doesn't brush his hand over the back of his neck when Sam's the one that's hurt, and he certainly doesn't look at Sam like he's some…little orphaned puppy that needs protection, not since they were a fraction of the age they are now.

He really does deserve a prize for all that he ignores, ranging from Dean's even-more-intense-than-usual focus on Cas to the gentleness with which he tapes down a strip of gauze over the multiple millennia old, battle-worn angel's neck to the way his eyes very slowly trace over Cas' bare chest once the injury is dealt with, the picture of a horny mother-hen.

"I think his only injury was on his neck," Sam can't help but remark, making Dean jolt behind him; Cas watches them both quietly, eyes only halfway open.

Dean, overly gruff since Sam's watching, makes Cas move until he's lifting himself enough for Dean to get the blankets out from under him, pulling them up to his collarbones. "You good?"

"Yes, thank you." Cas looks at Dean with a tired tenderness before glancing at Sam, adding belatedly, "Both of you."

"It's no problem, Cas. Happy to help," Sam replies when Dean just licks his lips and stares; why is it that he has all the manners in the family? "Do you need anything?"

"No, although once my grace recovers enough, I can heal both of your injuries as well." Cas lifts a shaky hand, two fingers extended, but Dean just bats it away. "Dean—"

"Don't be an idiot. Just focus on getting better so we can get the hell outta this town. Not even a decent bar in the surrounding twenty miles, freakin' Bible towns…" Dean grumbles to himself long after Sam stops paying attention and starts cleaning up everything and Cas passes out. "Figures we'd end up in a dry town with a church on every corner and not a drop of anything good to drink…"

By the time everything bloody is set aside to be burned later and all the supplies are packed up, Dean's still sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room, looking at Cas somewhat worriedly, despite the fact that he's fine now. Sam can't resist ribbing, "So, what, you gonna make him chicken soup now?"

Predictably, Dean's eyes snap away from the sleeping angel and to the TV they forgot to turn off earlier. "Since when does Cas sleep, anyway?" Dean asks instead, all huffy and pissy and, at its core, deeply troubled. "Thought angels didn't need it."

They both know Cas has been sleeping for some time now, both know he's been hiding it, both know what a bad liar Cas is when confronted directly though neither of them want to confront him and keep hoping he'll just admit to it even when they know he won't. "I've been finding him asleep in the library sometimes," Sam says anyway. "He drools."

"Gross." Inevitably, Dean goes back to looking at Cas, even as he bitches, "Least he doesn't snore like a truck like you do."

Sam could use this opportunity to shoot something petty and shallow back, or… "You, uh, you watch Cas sleep often?"

His words have their desired effect and Dean sends him a particularly dirty look, but never actually denies anything. Just like he never denies when people, angels, demons, monsters, or anything in between insinuate that he and Cas might be putting that 'profound bond' to use, that they might be more than friends and all that. Interesting, considering how fiercely he would tell people that he and Sam are brothers and definitely not involved in anything like that (when he didn't go along with it just to make Sam squirm, that is).

Something else that's very interesting like that is the ever-increasing gap between Dean taking people from a bar home. Ever since Purgatory, Dean's habit of sleeping around practically evaporated, and yeah, he was getting kind of old for it anyway, but Sam thinks this was more a result of a certain blue-eyed angel becoming a more prominent part of their lives alongside whatever the hell happened in Purgatory (which he still has yet to figure out, since Cas is too guilty to talk about it and Dean is Dean).

For a while there, Sam thought they finally got together in Purgatory, since that's the only explanation he could come up with as to why Dean was pining so hard whenever Cas was gone, not to mention that time in between when Dean was out but Cas wasn't. Which, hey, Sam likes Cas and was worried about him too, but Dean…Dean was crushed by Cas' absence, blaming himself for it, for not trying hard enough to get Cas out, for failing Cas. It was really hard trying to support Dean while having no idea what happened in Purgatory, let alone with how guilty he was over not looking for them in the first place.

"You wanna take the other bed? I'll sleep on the couch," Sam offers a few hours later when he catches Dean half dozing off before jerking awake again.

"Dude, you'd have to fold yourself in thirds to fit on that thing."

Sam clears his throat, adding innocently, "You can take the open bed and I can share with Cas, if you want. I know how much you like your space."

"As if you'd even fit. Your long-ass arms take up three quarters of the bed before you even spread them out." Dean predictably wastes no time in crawling in bed beside Cas, still fully dressed aside from his boots. "Besides," he continues, turning to punch the flat motel pillow, although curiously careful not to move the blankets too much and risk disturbing the sleeping angel, "we had Mexican two nights ago, and we both know how you get after taco night."

"Dean, that was one time, and you nuked the place, too."

"See, that's not how I remember it."

At this, Sam just rolls his eyes. "Why don't you just admit you wanna share a bed with Cas?" There's an ensuing silence Sam would expect if he'd said this quietly, but since he hadn't, he glances over to see that Dean has turned so that his back is to Sam, as if that'd hide how red the tips of his ears are. "Dude, c'mon. Stop pretending like you're making some noble sacrifice—"

Cas mumbles in his sleep and flips onto his stomach, only to hiss quietly as his injury is pressed into the bed. Dean doesn't waste a second before manhandling Cas with surprising gentleness onto his side instead, muttering about him being a dumbass. Sam is very tempted to keep pressing the issue, but decides to drop it and let Cas get some rest.

It's not until Sam's settled in the other bed that he notices his shoulder is aching like it was recently relocated that he realizes he's been hurt, too. He has no doubt that Cas will take care of it without a word when he can (and before he should, since this is Cas and Cas takes after them too much), but right now, it just serves as a reminder for how much they take Cas for granted.

In return, Cas never really asks for much at all. Before, Sam used to wonder why he even stuck around them at all, chalking it up as loneliness due to being all but banished from Heaven after he rebelled for Dean way back when. Now, he realizes Cas' motivation is a little…gayer.

He really has to get those morons together already…

-

"It's just so painful," he laments a few days later to Rowena, both more than a little drunk in the Bunker's library, Dean and Cas having already gone to bed (unfortunately in different rooms). "They're just…so obvious to everyone except each other. How don't they realize?"

"Noo, why should they? It's not like all of Heaven and Hell figured it out before them or anything."

"I just don't get it. I mean, Dean's eyes are always practically glued to Cas' eyes or lips or his butt and he still hasn't picked up on the fact that there might be something a little weird about that if they really were 'just friends'?" Sam's drink sloshes violently in his glass as he gestures around the room, agitated. "Cas only gets an excuse because he hasn't even been on Earth for a decade, but somebody as old as him should probably at least have an idea what all those feelings are, right?"

Well, maybe not, actually. Sam doesn't really know what Heaven is like for angels, but from what he does know, emotions are kind of forbidden. When he first met Cas, the only emotion he willingly showed was confusion—when he wasn't looking at Dean and having silent conversations with him, at least. Now, he definitely has a few more cards in the deck, but confusion is still his default.

Knowing Cas, he probably thinks everything Dean does is normal, especially considering Cas' ass isn't the only one he looks at. Well, it is now, but when Dean was at his peak as far as breaking hearts across the country goes, the fact that he not-so-occasionally checked out Cas didn't really strike Sam as strange. That was before it started being exclusively Cas, though.

"Aye, the poor dears don't have a brain cell between them when it comes to matters of the heart, it seems," Rowena says sagely. "They can be more than a little daft when something doesn't involve killing or dying or crying…"

"They're so hopeless," Sam agrees miserably, burying his face in his hands to rub at his forehead and push his hair behind his ears. "I have to live with them so it's just constant. I-I don't know what to do anymore."

Rowena's quiet for a long moment before she hums to herself. "There might be some way to get their heads out from within their tushies…"

He looks up at that, though judging by the twinkle in the witch's eye, he's gonna regret listening. "What do you mean?" he asks warily anyway, blaming the alcohol for him even considering…whatever it is Rowena is going to suggest.

"Well, all it takes is a wee spell or two and those two will be singing like canaries."

"About their disgustingly sappy love for each other?" Sam guesses, but the witch just smirks.

"About everything. Anything that comes to mind." Sam stares at her blankly, but Rowena doesn't seem to notice. "Oh, I imagine it wouldn't be more than but a few days before certain thoughts come out and certain feelings are revealed…"

"Rowena…"

"Don't tell me you've changed your mind? It's not like there are all that many ways to get those two to sit down and talk about their feelings, Samuel."

Sam considers it, his drunken mind unable to see why this might be a bad idea beyond Dean getting pissed off. Then again, Dean gets pissed if he sees something green on his plate, so Sam's not all that concerned. "What's the cure?"

Rowena's smirk widens, nearly splitting her face in two. "True love's kiss."

-

Sam wakes up with a pounding headache and very little memory of anything that happened in the last twenty-four hours. He trudges out to the kitchen way later than usual—too late for a morning run, maybe, not that he exactly feels up to it right now anyway—in hopes of getting some coffee.

Unsurprisingly, Cas is already sitting at the kitchen table, reading a thick book written in Greek, a notebook at his side. Sitting on the counter is a fresh pot of coffee, still streaming and everything. "Cas, you're a saint," he mumbles, trying to find his mug.

"Actually, I'm an angel," Cas corrects mildly, like Sam somehow forgot. "Did you enjoy your night with Rowena? I was initially worried she might've attempted to take something from the Bunker, but I don't think anything is missing. I checked. Twice."

"Yeah, we had a good time. Got totally hammered, but…" Without a word, Cas leans up from his seat, ultimately having to stand on the tips of his toes to reach Sam's forehead, two fingers out. In an instant, Sam's headache disappears along with the nausea he didn't realize he had. "Thanks, Cas, but you didn't have to do that."

"I like helping in the ways I can. There aren't many ways I can be helpful, as I'm rather inept at cooking and cleaning and not very useful on hunts beyond being able to smite whatever we're facing, so I'm happy I can do this, at least." Cas frowns, hand retreating to hang in the air, uncertain. "I didn't mean to say all that. Although I am glad I can be of use to you and Dean."

"Okay, whoa, we don't care how useful you are, Cas. You're always welcome here, useful or not." Is that why he's been hiding that he sleeps now? Is that why he's translating books?

"Past experience tells me that I'm not, but I appreciate the sentiment, Sam. Thank you." Cas sits back at the table and continues reading as if he hadn't said a thing. Sam watches awkwardly for a moment before nodding to himself and retrieving his coffee cup now that his headache is gone.

Dean shuffles into the kitchen a minute later in his robe. "Mornin'." He immediately goes to the coffeemaker, and once he has a mug in hand, he leans over Cas' shoulder, very much in his personal space, though Cas doesn't even bat an eye. "Is that Greek?"

"You recognize it?" Sam asks in slight surprise.

"Dean is very intelligent, Sam, even if he expresses that in ways that differ from the ways you show it," Cas says without looking up, making him fumble.

"No, yeah, I know, it's just—" It's not that Sam thinks Dean's dumb, because he knows he's not. He's just not…book smart so much. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"Surprised I have more than just porn on my mind?" Sam doesn't respond to that. "Speaking of which, who's hungry?"

Sam's extremely tempted to ask on what planet conversations are allowed to swap from porn to food, but wisely holds his tongue. Dean prepares breakfast, singing at the stove without a care in the world, while Cas alternates between quietly translating and looking up at Dean with a disgustingly fond expression.

Once the food is all but prepared, Dean goes to find plates, but pauses with one hand in the cupboard. "You gonna eat today, Cas, or are we still pretending you don't need to?"

"Pretending. I slept long enough last night that my grace is decently charged and I therefore don't require sustenance."

"When you get tired of choking on the dictionary shoved down your throat, I can give you something else to choke on—just say the word."

Sam chokes on his drink, patting his chest roughly. "Dude! I'm trying to eat!"

"I don't understand that reference," Cas says with a frown. "There is nothing in my vessel's throat."

"You want there to be?" Dean turns to give Cas an imploring look, one eyebrow raised suggestively, but it flies right over the angel's head. That doesn't mean Cas doesn't use the opportunity to look at Dean, though, nearly making Sam lose his breakfast. He's never been more relieved than when the stove crackles and Dean turns back around. "I don't know how I ever got anywhere near half decent at cooking. I mean, we grew up in a new motel room every week and ate Kraft Mac and Cheese until it came out our ears. Not exactly fine dining."

"I'm sure you're a wonderful cook, Dean," Cas replies, so earnestly that it takes Sam by surprise, although it probably shouldn't considering Cas has always been on the blunt side.

Dean's ears go red, but he just scoffs. "What do you know—you can't even taste it with your cool angel juice."

"I would've loved to try everything you made when I was human. It was one of the many things I looked forward to as I made the journey to the Bunker." Cas looks away, adding sadly, "Of course, I should've suspected I was only setting myself up for disappointment."

Dean shakes his head, still turned towards the stove. "Would've loved to have you here, Cas, you know that. Could've introduced you to all kinds of food and helped you learn everything about being human. You have no idea how much I thought about it before that dickbag Zeke or Gadreel or whatever made me give you the boot or else he'd leave Sam to die."

"Wait, is that why Cas had to leave?" Sam asks quietly, horrified. Cas had only just been thrown to Earth as a human, wanted by all the angels of Heaven, had just been killed by a reaper who all but raped him the night before, and Dean threw him out. Sam had been so pissed when he found out he was possessed not only for his own sake, but also for what happened to Cas when Dean sparingly admitted what happened. "You said he wanted to leave."

"Why would I want to leave? I never want to leave, although I am becoming more and more useless lately and fear I may have to leave again soon." Cas sighs almost wistfully, now looking at the back of Dean's head the same way he does his eyes. "Sometimes, I do imagine becoming human again, but I also recognize that it's foolish to believe the next time would be any different than the first."

"Of course it would," Dean snaps, more desperate than angry as he spins around to face Cas, eye pleading. "You gotta know I want you here, man. You have to know that. I need you."

The angel's expression withers, face falling. "Yes, I know you do, but you should also know I'm slowly losing my powers. I won't be of much use soon. You won't need me then."

"You're such a dumbass. I'm not talking about your powers, Cas, I'm talking about you. I need you here—with us. With…with me. Man, you-you don't know what I'm like when you're gone. I'm a mess!"

"He's a mess," Sam confirms awkwardly when Cas looks over at him, as if for confirmation that the statement is truthful.

"Honestly, the only reason I haven't completely trashed my liver yet is 'cause you heal me all the time," Dean continues, plating the food and dishing it out. "And yeah, I know about that. Kinda hard not to. I'd probably be bitching about it if it wasn't so damn sweet. Damnit."

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Sam looks between the two of them, but they seem entirely oblivious to the fact that they're being completely honest with each other for once, spilling anything and everything that comes to mind…oh. Careful not to show his cards, he asks, "Are you two feeling okay?"

"Apart from really freakin' hungry and pissed there's no pie in the fridge, yeah. Why?"

"So you haven't noticed anything…strange about the way you're both talking?"

"What, you think Cas' gravel-gargling voice suddenly got deeper?" Dean scoffs. "Considering he talks to me the most, I think I'd notice."

"I greatly enjoy talking to you, Dean. You as well, Sam, but about different things. Books, for example, as Dean has shown very little interest in those if they are not pornographic in nature."

"Hey, I can dig the occasional Vonnegut," his brother protests, starting to dig into his food as Sam does the same. "Not my fault everything else is as boring as watching a photocopier copy eight-thousand versions of the same thing. And don't talk about my skin mags, man. It's just weird."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're… you. I don't know, it just is. It's like you walking in on one of my one night stands. Just weird."

And yet, Dean has been all but bragging about stuff like that since he was, like, fifteen and first started doing it. Unlike Cas, who probably just would've been confused, Sam has gone to public schools and knew just what was happening despite being too young and had been beyond horrified. He even told their dad, who had just been weirdly proud of Dean for skipping school to put his hands up a girl's shirt. Oftentimes, Sam wonders if their dad isn't more or less the reason Dean slept around so much, if their dad's death might be why he did it less and less over the years and doesn't do it at all anymore.

Still, he thinks as he finishes eating, he could use this… "And me walking in on you only gets a smirk and a wink? What's so different between me and Cas, Dean?"

Dean just scoffs, mouth half full. "C'mon. I don't give a crap if you see my porn."

"Oh believe me, I know… Got half a dozen computer viruses to prove it." It's only then that he realizes they're severely off topic. "But don't you guys think you're being, I don't know, weirdly…honest?"

"Yeah. So?"

"So," he begins, getting frustrated, "don't you wonder why?" They both look away from each other long enough to look over at Sam, who forces himself to suggest with an air of innocence, "Maybe you guys have been cursed or something."

"I don't feel cursed," Cas replies simply.

"Don't look cursed, either. Fine as always." Dean's eyes rake up and down the angel's body, but Cas just tilts his head and squints at him. "Mhm. Looking good."

"Thank you, Dean. You look good, as well." Cas sighs in a way Sam can only describe as dreamily. "As aesthetically pleasing as the day I first raised you from Hell. Still beautiful, still Dean Winchester…"

Dean's ears go red again. "Uh. Yeah. You're not so bad yourself."

Sam has to leave the kitchen before he actually throws up. He takes the opportunity to go into the library and fish his phone out from his pocket, hitting Rowena's contact. She picks up on the last ring, because she's Rowena, and he doesn't waste a second before hissing, "You cursed them?!"

"And good morning to you too, Samuel," Rowena all but purrs on the other end. "Well, morning there, anyway. Already mid-day in Barbados."

"What the hell, Rowena?"

"Oh, don't give me that! You seemed a bit more favorable towards it last night, after all. Have you forgotten about the pining?"

"I was drunk—I don't even remember what I drank!"

"It's a good thing you have the wee angel with the weakness for Winchester living there, then, isn't it?"

Dean and Cas wander in to go sit at one of the tables, with Cas bringing his book and notebook in with him and Dean pulling out his own phone, though they still sit right beside each other. "Look, either way, this isn't gonna do anything about the pining. If any, it'll just make it worse since they'll just keep saying stuff, but nothing'll happen. They'll be cursed for another decade…"

He can already picture it, sitting here with greyer hair and weaker joints and listening to Dean obnoxiously flirting with Cas and voicing all the thoughts he has about him, PG or not, while Cas just says things even more bluntly than usual and scratches his head at Dean's every comment and they both sit in the same stagnant lake they're in now, only…grosser for Sam's poor, undeserving ears.

"Oh, please. With the way those two look at each other, the curse will be broken by the end of the week," Rowena says with a scoff. "I'd even make a wager on it, in fact."

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, but figures it's easy money, anyway. "Fine. Two hundred says they'll still be dancing around each other by the end of the week."

"Now, that doesn't mean you can skimp on your end, dearie, and prevent them from talking it out."

"Believe me, I'll try my best." He looks over his shoulder at Dean and Cas, who are, predictably, staring at each other, having such tender eye sex that Sam feels like a voyeur even if none of the clothes are coming off. "They'll need all the help they can get."

-

It takes way longer than it should to convince the resident morons that they were, in fact, cursed. Multiple times, Sam was tempted to just give up and pretend like nothing's wrong, but if he going to force the two of them to actually work through their issues instead of watching Dean retreat to avoid talking about his feelings or saying anything he would otherwise want to keep secret and Cas…do whatever it is that Cas does when he's not hanging out with them or watching the bees outside, he's going to have to make them aware of the curse. Cas is harder to convince only because he thinks he can sense any and all witchcraft while Dean is just his usual flavor of stubborn.

Once they are aware of the curse, the researching begins. Sam doesn't actually know which curse Rowena threw at them, and he has been developing a healthy interest in witchcraft in general after realizing just how much having even a basic knowledge of spells could help with hunting, so he's curious enough to try to find it in their lore books despite knowing what the curse is and how it's cured.

Dean and Cas, of course, have no idea that he knows what the curse is, since it's better for them to be angry at Rowena than at Sam, although he does want to tell them when it's all said and done and the idiots kiss already. So right now, they're unaware that he played a role in the development of the curse and just think Rowena is pissed at them about one thing or another.

The whole time they're researching, Dean and Cas' chairs are practically fused together, they're so close, and Sam's hopes that they might actually talk about something have been withering away bit by bit with each passing minute that they do…not that.

"You guys are sitting pretty close," Sam eventually notes aloud, hoping to get the ball rolling.

"Not close enough," Dean replies, even as he stands and leaves the room before returning with a beer, which he drinks on the other side of the room with a grin. "Now we're way not close enough. Damnit. Ignore that."

Sam just rolls his eyes. These two are so hopeless it's not even funny anymore, and the only reason Rowena doesn't realize that is because she doesn't have to live with them. Honestly, she should've body-swapped them until they made out or something since there's no way Dean would be able to stand not being in his own body and watching Cas take control of it and like…neglect to comb his hair or something; Cas, by comparison, probably wouldn't care, since he's taken a couple different vessels over his lifetime, instead using the time to count all the faint freckles on Dean's skin or something equally weird.

For most of the time spent researching, Sam just plays on his phone and Dean does the same. Eventually, Cas goes back to his translating and officially puts a stop on any and all nonexistent progress with the oh-so mysterious curse that Sam definitely doesn't know about. At least Dean's started to get pissed about it. In a day or two (or a week if he wants to win that bet), maybe Sam could accidentally find the spell and shove their faces together like they both clearly want…

"I miss my wings," Cas laments out of nowhere later that day, sounding so sad that Sam can't help but give him a sympathetic look, following his line of sight to the TV playing an ad for exotic vacation spots. "I miss flying. I could've taken you to so many places and showed you so many things…"

Sam clears his throat quietly. "Uh, you mean me or Dean?" Upon hearing his name, Dean glances up from where he's probably still playing Candy Crush Saga and losing.

"Oh. Um. I meant Dean," the angel begins awkwardly, "although I'm sure you would've loved to go, as well. Especially if I could still time travel. I would've loved to show you the Library of Alexandria at its peak before it was burned down, or let you explore the sites of ancient ruins, or look at ancient artifacts before the British museums took them all." Cas looks back at Dean almost bashfully, adding, "I know Dean would rather admire restaurants than artifacts, however."

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it, finally settling on, "Damn straight."

"Not a single thing about you is straight," Sam mutters, but he's effectively ignored as Dean and Cas start doing that staring thing again, their eyeballs glued together even from across the room. He wonders if they even realized he's not cursed, too. "Case in point…"

Still, Sam can't deny that it's nice to be included, even as an afterthought to the lovesick angel. Sam certainly never thought of including Dean on any of his dates with…well, anyone, because that's just not a thing people do. Maybe it's because Cas knows him from all the years the three of them have been saving the world, or maybe Cas just doesn't realize that it's strange to invite a boyfriend's brother on a date. Or maybe Cas is just thinking of that as more of a vacation for the whole family to enjoy.

Either way, there's not really any point in thinking about dates that will never be since, as Cas said, he can't fly anymore. Which is really a shame, because being able to time travel back to an ancient civilization and check things out sounds beyond cool, even if Dean would probably be more interested in what the people ate or what sex positions they favored than their day-to-day life—not that Cas wouldn't indulge both their curiosities. Man, it would've been so cool…

Instead of focusing on things they can't do now, he should be focusing on what they can. Which brings him back to trying to get the morons together. They've currently been making heart eyes at each other for, what, fifteen minutes now? Sam can't imagine what could possibly be that interesting about Dean or Cas' faces, but he'll have to work with what he's given.

"I, uh, found a case," he announces. "Sounds like a vampire hunt over in Tulsa."

It's not hard to convince the idiots to head out in the morning. During cases, there's always a certain…openness that comes after the whatever-it-was is dead, and Sam's hoping to take advantage of that to get them talking, because it's either that or he's gonna actually do the closet thing now that they're incapable of not talking.

-

He doesn't accomplish anything that morning, and the case is definitely a struggle when Dean blurts out that they're looking for vampires (thankfully, Cas has long since been told not to try to talk to the victims or witnesses on cases and nothing happens that's beyond recovery), but by some miracle, they actually manage to stop it before anyone else dies.

Now, this is good, of course, but the real gem of the day happens that night when Dean crashes on the nearest bed while Sam stays up to scheme a little more. Cas is perched on the very edge of the armchair in the corner, as if sitting on it any further will cause the world to end, entranced by an infomercial about a great new vegetable peeler for carrots and only carrots.

"Can't believe Dean put this crap on," Sam grumbles to himself, running a hand through his hair as one of the demonstrators says something loud enough to grab Sam's attention no matter how much he doesn't want to hear it. "Who the hell wants to watch this crap?"

"It's fascinating," the angel argues lightly, barely paying enough attention to him to even fully reply as a whole shaved carrot is put on top of a garden salad. "Very…educational."

"He puts it on for you," he surmises, everything suddenly making sense. "Geez, that's so like him. When's he gonna get good taste?" Dean shifts in his sleep, making Sam frown. "Is he even sleeping, or is he just trying to be a dick?"

"He's sleeping," Cas confirms, three quarters of the way to a pout as he finally tears his eyes away from the TV to look at Dean. "While it's good that he gets his rest, I dislike when Dean is sleeping. I…I miss him."

Sam could puke with how sappy that is, but instead just offers a sympathetic look. It must be weird for a being that doesn't have to sleep to be around people that do, but these days, Cas does have to rest every now and then. Actually… "Why don't you join him?"

"In his dreams? I'm not sure if I'm powerful enough. I'm quite useless these days."

"No, I meant…y'know, just go to sleep, too. Maybe by the time you wake up, Dean'll be awake again. Then you don't have to be without him." God, he feels like he's living in one of the early 2000s Barbie movies Dean used to put on to torture him.

Cas nods slowly, but pauses, remarking, "There are only two beds, and Dean is occupying one while the other is yours."

"Yeah." Oh good, the angel that's millions of years old can count. "So?"

"So there isn't a bed for me. I refuse to take one from either of you," Cas says firmly, weirdly determined. "I shouldn't even need to rest. I should be watching over the two of you and making sure nothing happens. I care very much for both of you, you know."

"Um…yeah. Thanks, Cas. Appreciate it." Wow. And he thought Cas was overly blunt before. "But, uh, you know, Dean wouldn't mind sharing a bed…" It's like a game: will Cas pick up on the obvious hint this time or not? The second he sees Cas' head starting to tip to the side, he knows this hint went right over his dumb, feathery head. With a tired sigh, he just pinches the bridge of his nose. "If you're tired, share Dean's bed. He really won't mind."

"Is this a 'prank'?" Cas asks, squinting at him. "Dean's told me about the apparent joy placing 'itching powder' in someone's undergarments can bring, but I've never understood how doing that could evoke anything other than sympathy for the victim. Also, I would fear harsh retribution if I were to attempt such a thing, although I wouldn't mind trying a 'prank' once just to try to understand you and Dean better and to attempt to fit in."

Sam has no idea what to say to any of that, so he ignores it. "Cas, Dean would love to wake up in the morning next to you. Seriously, dude has it bad."

"What does he have? I don't sense any sort of affliction on Dean."

"Just…do it. Trust me."

"But Sam…"

It takes way longer than he would've thought to convince Cas to share Dean's bed. Not because he's unwilling at all, but because somewhere along the line, Cas became a Winchester and has a mountain of self-worth issues to show for it. Still, he manages to get Cas to lay down stiff as a board beside his brother, though fully dressed in everything but his shoes. Considering Dean usually only shucks his shoes and jeans when they're on a case, Sam doesn't see the need to get him to shed more layers, trusting Dean to do that to the angel in due time.

Cas stays up for all of half an hour to keep squinting at the carrot peeler, and he's passed out with his head against Dean's by the time Sam looks over next. Unfortunately, Cas apparently wakes up earlier than even him, since when Sam wakes up the next morning (early enough to sneak into the shower first, unwilling to test the capacity of the motel's hot water tank), only Dean's still in the bed. By the time Dean gets up shortly afterwards, Cas returns with two styrofoam coffee cups and a paper bag, offering them like he's holding out a bomb that might explode.

For his efforts, Dean just takes everything from him with a 'thanks, Cas,' and Cas' mouth ticks up at the corners at that, which is the Cas equivalent of a full-on blinding smile from Sam's experience, although Dean's claimed otherwise in the past. It's not all that much of a stretch to imagine Cas might be more smiley around only Dean, though, so Sam can only really take his word for it.

It's back to business as usual once they return to the Bunker, unfortunately. If Dean has any idea Cas shared a bed with him last night, he doesn't show it, which makes Sam kind of want to pull his hair out. Dean continues flirting with Cas sporadically throughout the day, and Cas continues not picking up on a damn thing.

Luckily, Sam does get another teaching opportunity later that day when Cas knocks (he knows it's Cas before the angel even steps in, because when has Dean ever knocked?) on his door and comes in carrying a laundry basket, which he then sets on the edge of Sam's bed beside his legs.

"Uh, hey." Sam doesn't think he'll ever get used to watching an angel of the Lord do his and his brother's laundry, despite the fact that he's been doing it for quite a while now along with the dishes when it's his turn (or Dean's, since Dean can convince Cas to do pretty much anything if he wants to). "Doing some chores?"

"Yes. I like to keep the Bunker tidy when I'm able to. It's more…orderly." Cas picks up one of Sam's flannels and clumsily folds it, having trouble either due to the length or the unfamiliarity of the action. Sam watches silently as Cas continues, "It's not particularly difficult work, but it's an effective way to keep busy and almost makes me feel as if I make a difference here, although I'm sure you and Dean would be able to continue just fine without having me attempt to fold your clothes."

Sam shifts uncomfortably at that, like he always does when Cas says stuff like that. He never realized just how much Cas worries about his worth within this little family they have until the spell Rowena hit him with. It's more than a little disheartening to know just how uncertain his friend is about his place here, no matter how much Sam and Dean try to tell him with and without words that he's always welcome.

He gets up to help fold some of the stuff when he sees Cas just freeze with a pullover hoodie in hand, expression beyond baffled and a little panicked. He picks out all his underwear first before moving onto other stuff, but soon realizes most of his stuff is being folded after Dean's, which is definitely not his own doing. Which means…

"Are you folding Dean's stuff first?"

"Um…" Cas looks caught, but the curse prevents him from lying—not that he'd be able to get away with it, either way. "Yes. I'm not sure why. I just…want to."

"Because I'm here and can fold my own stuff?" Sam guesses, even as he has a growing suspicion that this is not why.

"Partly. I'm not sure why."

"Is it maybe because you feel…certain ways about Dean that you don't with me?"

Cas' face is the epitome of a big, fat question mark even before his head tilts like a confused puppy in that way Sam knows Dean's so fond of (which he only recently admitted due to the spell chucked at his emotionally constipated head). "I don't understand."

Sam reminds himself to be patient, then reminds himself again. It's not really Cas' fault he doesn't know how to address these feelings when he's only feeling them for the first time; Dean, who certainly has to have an inkling just what he might be feeling by now, on the other hand… "You don't view me and Dean the same way, do you?"

"No, of course not. Dean and I share a more profound bond," the angel admits easily, neck bent way up in the air to look him in the eye in a way that makes Sam's own neck ache in sympathy. "That's not to say that I don't value our friendship, however."

"And what does profound bond mean to you?"

"It means…I always want to stay with Dean, and that I protect him and trust him with my life. It means that it…hurts when he's gone or when he's…angry with me, or when I'm angry with him. It means that I…"

"That you love him," Sam finishes, internally throwing a little party for himself even though his face is calm.

"Love…" Cas squints down at the pink, purple, and blue flannel in his hands, which Sam recognizes as Dean's (and privately thinks of as a shirt representative of the bisexual flag). "I love him?"

"Yeah, Cas. That's what you were describing." And what he emanates like seismic waves 24/7 whether he's around Dean or not. "Are you okay with…all that?"

"Yes, just—I've never felt like this before. Love for anyone but God and humans in general is forbidden." Cas goes quiet, but Sam can tell he's not done yet, so he stays silent, hoping to offer the angel a comforting and supportive presence. "It frightens me."

"Because Dean's a guy, or because he's more than a concept?"

"Because I…I never valued one human being so highly that I'd willingly turn against the only home I've ever known and would continue to defy over and over again despite any threats or harm that might come from it. I've always loved humans the most of any species, but to value an individual so highly…" Cas sighs like a lovesick teenage girl in a cringy romance movie, smiling to himself. "I love Dean."

"Yeah, you do."

"Though the idea is a little overwhelming, it is nice to have a name for it, as I'm quite certain I've felt this way since I first met him." Nodding sagely to himself, the angel mutters, "When I first laid a hand on Dean in Hell, I was lost…"

"What do you plan on doing about it?" Cas goes back to looking confused, frowning before looking to Sam, a question in his eyes. Patience, he reminds himself. This is new to Cas. "Why don't you maybe try seeing if it likes you, too? Not just by telling him, but more…by showing him that you do. Y'know?"

"Oh." The angel nods slowly. "I'll do that."

Sam could break down and cry tears of joy. Was it really that easy, all this time? Did he really only have to tell Cas that he is, in fact, obviously in love with Dean to get the two idiots talking about it? Yeah, the spell is definitely gonna help with that, but was it really that simple?

No, as it turns out, it isn't. As soon as Cas is done with dropping off Sam's laundry, he steps into the hallway and sees Dean. Sam doesn't mean to eavesdrop (not right then, at least), but it's hard not to when Cas immediately blurts out, "I like you."

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, you too, Cas," Dean replies awkwardly, not wasting a second before fleeing the hall like his ass is on fire, desperate to avoid anything involving feelings.

Cas turns to look at him, looking a bit like an eager puppy standing in front of a broken vase, waiting for praise on a job well done. The face drops into a sad puppy look when Sam asks incredulously, "Cas, what was that? I literally just said don't tell him—you know how Dean is when he's forced to confront something."

The angel looks down at the laundry basket full of Dean's clothes that he's still carrying. "I didn't mean to. It just came out as soon as I looked at him…"

"Right. The curse…" At least, he assumes that's from the curse, though it wouldn't be all that out of character if Cas did that as his normal self, as he's never been good at lying. Although, he can keep secrets pretty well until he's confronted about something head-on… "Don't worry about it too much. Right now, it's more important to show it and hope Dean gets the message, too."

"What message?"

"Uh…nevermind." The last thing he needs is Cas spilling any plans to Dean, who's already gonna bitch about this and that up until he starts coaching Cas how to flirt back already instead of just tilting his head, though that's a breakthrough for another day. "Hey, you know what Dean likes though?"

"Pie?" Cas guesses with way more seriousness than this situation calls for.

"Well, yeah, but he also likes just, y'know, spending time with people. Companionable silence and all that."

Cas visibly relaxes. "Some angels enjoy being stationed with others simply to keep them company during…I suppose you could think of it as standing guard or watching over Earth. Myself included, as I've found that just standing and watching but being forbidden from interacting with anything can quickly become rather tedious."

"Uh…right."

As interesting as Cas' increasingly frequent little tidbits about Heaven are, Sam never has any idea what to say in response to any of them, torn between fascinated and horrified to go along with the ever-present awkwardness. One thing he knows for certain from all this is that Heaven for angels and Heaven for humans are basically two different things, with the angels getting the short end of the stick instead of the paradise people always picture.

After Cas puts Dean's stuff away (which is apparently a thing he does whereas he always leaves Sam's stuff all clumsily folded on the bed), he goes back out into the main Bunker areas to go look for Dean. Sam doesn't immediately follow him out, hanging back to give them time to settle in and get comfortable in a way they only really do when they're alone, although he is curious what's happening.

After nearly half an hour, curiosity gets the better of him and he goes to find Dean and Cas doing the dishes, one washing and one drying. No words are exchanged, but they work like a well-oiled machine, passing off dish after dish without more than a glance. On the last dish, their hands touch and they look at each other, eyes meeting. It's a long moment before Dean clears his throat with a small smile and takes the dish to dry. Cas watches him the whole time, that same dopey look on his face as before.

He doesn't spy on them too much for the time being, understanding that most of the developments in their relationship happen when Sam isn't there. Not only that, but it's not like he really wants to see his friend and his brother doing their staring thing and fantasizing about locking lips or whatever they do—he really doesn't wanna know. He just wants to give them that push they very clearly need.

Unexpectedly, it seems Cas admitting in a typical blunt Cas fashion has a bigger impact than Sam would've thought, since that night after Cas goes for a walk outside to go enjoy how the stars look or something, Dean approaches him with beer, passing Sam a bottle without a word.

"Thanks." Dean slumps into the chair across from him, drinking his own beer, though he says nothing. Sam eyes him after the silence persists. "You need something?"

Normally, Dean would deny this and then sit there agonizing over whatever crawled up his ass today for hours before finally spilling once he was drunk enough not to care quite so much, which is just such an annoying cycle that Sam never looks forward to observing.

This Dean, however, doesn't waste more than a few seconds before stating with a scowl (which is probably directed at the fact that he can't shut up more so than the words he's saying), "Cas said he likes me earlier. The hell does that mean?"

"Maybe it means Cas likes you."

Dean makes a frustrated noise. "Not what I meant, bitch. I just meant…how?"

"Why don't you ask him, Dean?" Cas, unlike Dean, doesn't have a clue what things not directly stated mean, evident by Dean's obnoxious flirting over the past couple of days. If Sam can't get Dean to talk to Cas about it, Cas will never know to say anything and they'll be stuck in a new but equally stagnant lake. "I'm sure he'd tell you what he meant."

"Maybe I won't like the answer," Dean grumbles, and Sam's sure he wouldn't have admitted such a thing on his own. "Last thing I need is confirmation that he thinks of me as, like…a brother or something."

It's times like this that Sam can't help but think his brother is an idiot. "I guarantee that he doesn't." Dean doesn't react beyond his jaw tightening a little, so Sam asks curiously, despite knowing it isn't really fair to ask since Dean can't exactly do his usual 'no chick-flick moments' routine, "How do you feel about Cas?"

"Not like a brother," Dean bites out with what is definitely a pout. Why is it that people think Sam's the bitchy one, again? "He's…y'know…he's Cas."

"So you like him?"

"'Course I do. I don't know how anybody couldn't, except those dick angels that kicked him out." Dean shrugs a little. "Their loss, my gain."

"Your gain?" Sam repeats with a smirk he struggles to fight down.

"You see all the stuff he does for us? All the-the healing and the smiting and the boring-as-hell researching. Now he even does laundry and the dishes and dusts, which is so freakin' weird but as long as he's happy, I guess…"

Sam sees this as an opportunity to right some wrongs and clears his throat. "What if he does it to…earn his place?"

Dean just scoffs and shakes his head, finishing off his beer. "C'mon. He's gotta know by now that he's always welcome here. His home too and all that."

"How would he know if you never told him that?" Dean doesn't even glance at him, so Sam continues, "I mean, I've told him that before, but we both know it doesn't mean nearly as much coming from me as it would if you said it. He really values your opinion, Dean."

Understatement of the century. He and Cas are friends, sure, but Cas…Cas loves Dean, hangs on his every word like it's gospel. If Sam said Cas' trench coat is the most abominable piece of fabric he's ever seen in his life, it'd slide off Cas like water off a duck, but if Dean dared to breathe a word about it being 'frumpy,' Sam has no doubts that Cas would change his entire wardrobe within the hour. Either that, or make sad puppy eyes at Dean until he takes it back.

Actually, maybe a change in outfits would help speed things along…

Dean doesn't reply to that, instead looking strangely contemplative. Sam gets to find out why when Cas seeks him out a few hours later, face perplexed. "Sam."

One of these times, he'll stop jumping when Cas suddenly and silently appears behind him. "Uh, hey. What's up?"

Cas' eyes drift up to the ceiling for a thoughtful few seconds before looking back at Sam, head tipped up at what's probably a painful angle to meet his eyes. "Dean said he wanted me to know that I'll always have a place here."

"You do," Sam assures, wondering just how much he and Dean must've screwed up to make an angel of the Lord, a warrior of God that must've fought in so many ancient battles over the years, insecure. "No matter what happens."

"Oh. I…thank you, Sam." Despite his words, Cas looks more troubled than before. "Are you planning on leaving as well?"

"What?"

"Leaving. Dean said I'm allowed to remain here, so he must be planning on leaving. Are you leaving, too?" the angel repeats calmly, though he glances away after a moment, looking hurt. "I don't want either of you to leave…"

"Cas, we're not going anywhere. Seriously, I promise. He just wants you to feel, y'know, at home here. This place is your home, too, if you want it." Cas squints at him uncomprehendingly, so Sam sighs and changes the subject, deciding that's a topic more for Dean to try to iron out, an insecurity Dean will be better at soothing. "What else did Dean say?"

"He said I don't have to do his laundry anymore. He didn't seem angry when he said it. More…frustrated, though I'm still not sure why. He also said he's been enjoying spending time with me, though he did seem angry when he said that, even though Tombstone is one of his favorite movies."

It takes Sam a minute to figure out the implications of what Cas is saying, but from what he can gather, Cas has taken his advice and has been spending time with Dean one-on-one and they're apparently entertaining Dean's little cowboy fetish. During this time, the curse forced Dean to talk about how much he likes spending time with Cas, but Cas misread Dean's annoyance with the curse as anger towards him and now Sam gets to play nursemaid to hurt feelings. Great.

"Look, Cas. With Dean, you can't really look at what he says so much as how he acts. If he seeks you out to watch a movie with you, that means he wants to watch a movie with you, even if he plays it off as something else. You gotta go by how he acts and," he swallows down a grimace, "how he looks. You know how he looks at you, don't you?"

"It's not very different from how I look at him," the angel says slowly, frowning to himself. Sam waits with bated breath as Cas pieces things together aloud. "With that in mind, it wouldn't be entirely unreasonable to believe that might mean he feels similarly about me as I feel about him. But that might mean that he…"

"That he likes you, too," Sam finishes for him. "But, uh, you know how Dean is, so maybe instead of blurting it out this time, you should keep trying to show him that you like him and get him to say something back."

"What should I do?"

And that's how, after having Cas confirm that he didn't just walk away in the middle of a movie to ask Sam what Dean meant and that Dean had gone to take a shower, Sam attempts to teach a former angel of God how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Growing up on the road under Dean's careful care and more creative cooking, Sam never really had the chance to learn to cook outside of college, where he was often too busy to bother with anything but familiar fast food.

Grilled cheese is simple enough that he thinks they can pull it off without burning anything, at least, even with Dean hogging all the cooking skills in the family. Sam still watches half a dozen Youtube videos with Cas beforehand before trying to coach him through it. Dean ends up coming out of the shower before Cas is done with Dean's; the one he made for Sam was more than a little burnt, but Dean's ends up being okay, if only because Dean steps in to show him how it's done.

In a typical Dean fashion, he gives the one hot off the press to Sam before instructing Cas himself on how to make a grilled cheese the right way. Sam chews his way through the melted goodness as slowly as he can manage to watch through very brief glances to the side as Dean continuously finds excuses to step behind Cas, to put his hands over Cas' to guide the hundreds of thousands of years old angel through the art of flipping a grilled cheese sandwich.

At one point, Dean must press a little too firmly into the angel since Cas jumps in surprise and freezes. Before Sam can decide whether to stay put to avoid stopping this very noteworthy progress or whether to run from the room as if it were on fire like he wants to before anything firmly waltzes past PG, Dean steps back with the excuse of grabbing more bread for the next sandwich, and Cas slowly goes back to cooking.

For the first time in as long as Sam can remember, Dean and Cas are in the same room together and look at everything but each other's eyes, and Sam wonders if this will be a step in the wrong direction for them, dreading the answer.

Chapter Text

(11,535 words)

It's been two days since that thing that Sam is doing his very best not to think too much about happened in the kitchen, and things are as awkward as ever. The curse makes Dean verbally vomit about how annoying pop-up boners are to Cas at least twice, and though Cas nods along, he still doesn't look Dean in the eye long enough to realize Dean can't quite look at him, either.

This tension between them, while good for his bet against Rowena where she thinks they'll be taking the 'u' from 'UST' within the week and he knows it's just not gonna happen, is torture to watch, so he steps in and talks to each side.

Dean, for his part, is mostly guilty. "I really messed up, Sammy. I-I don't even…it just happened. Not like I meant to, but he was right there and it's been a while—"

"Uh, yeah, thanks for that info, Dean."

Dean's quiet for all of three blissful seconds before, hand waving around erratically enough to threaten to send some beer out from the top of the bottle, he continues, "You know nobody has any control over these things. Something firm and warm is in front of you and—hello!—guess who's here for a visit?"

Sam buries his face in his hands, trying to block out any and all stimulus that reminds him of the Incident, when it occurs to him that Dean's speaking generally, denying the basic facts, so he interrupts, "Dude, c'mon. This is because it was Cas."

"Well, yeah," Dean replies before freezing, face going red. But with the curse Rowena chucked at his big, dumb head, he can't help but continue instead of starting to pour on his usual torrent of denial, "It's always Cas. You know how he is. He's all…nice and strong and helpful and all that crap. Real easy on the eyes."

Over the years, Sam's started thinking of Cas more and more as something of a little brother despite their massive age gap going in the opposite direction. With how naive Cas is about so many things, the analogy does kind of fit, either way, and Sam uses that as an opportunity to teach him all kinds of things and introduce him to stuff beyond spaghetti westerns and greasy food.

With Cas, Sam gets to let his nerdier side out more because the angel's an even bigger nerd than he is, gets to talk about non-hunt-related books that he reads just for fun and gets Cas to read just so he has someone to talk about them with and gets recommended things in return, often of the…home and garden variety, since Cas apparently likes reading doctor's office magazines and wants to share them with others.

And maybe some of this does stem from privately always wanting a younger sibling to take care of, or a pet at the very least, but Sam tries not to think about it too much. Dean's been looking after him his whole life and while he returns the favor whenever possible, he can't help but find the idea of having someone look up to him that way appealing, even if Cas doesn't realize he fills that role.

With all this in mind, it's pretty much impossible to think of Cas—though unfortunately not Dean, as he's walked in on far too many things over the years that he's pretty sure are burned into his retinas—in any of the ways Dean probably pictures him all the time, just like it's weird to think of either of them being anything near attractive even if they objectively are. It's just weird and gross.

That doesn't stop Dean from telling him all about Cas' more…redeeming qualities, in his eyes, going on for twenty minutes about how blue Cas' eyes look when he's happy or how great his ass apparently looks in tight pants, unlike the ill-fitting crap Jimmy just slung on, starting with the trench coat Dean bitches about disgustingly fondly.

Sam's only saved from hearing more when Dean shuts up about Cas' lips long enough to try to drink from his empty beer bottle, making Sam stand up so quickly that he nearly knocks over his chair. "Let me get you another."

Normally, he might complain about Dean's drinking habit, but with this being his only ticket to salvation in sight, he can't really help but fuel it a little. Cas regularly heals his liver up anyway, and Dean's just drinking casually right now, so he figures the harm is little compared to the positive side that means he can escape this conversation. So he returns with a beer and tells Dean to talk to Cas about it before scurrying off to his room, putting on his noise-canceling headphones just in case.

Unsurprisingly, Dean doesn't talk to Cas, which he figures out the next morning in the form of Cas sitting sullenly in the grass outside the Bunker, making Sam pause from where he'd been securing his phone into the pocket of his shorts, preparing for an early morning run. He approaches slowly, making sure this is an upset Cas and not just a contemplative one looking for some peace and quiet; he's not nearly as good at reading Cas' face as Dean is, so it takes him a few seconds to confirm it's the former, even as Cas greets him the same way he always does.

"Hello, Sam."

"Hey, Cas. You okay?"

"I'm fine."

Sam speaks Winchester and knows that means he isn't. Putting his run on hold, Sam takes a careful seat next to Cas in the damp grass still sparkling with morning dew. "Is this about Dean?"

"Yes," Cas admits, either due to the spell or due to his usual bluntness. "You said that he liked me as well, but…"

"He does," Sam assures him gently, though he's thoroughly baffled as to why Cas is upset by this.

"Oh," the angel lets out quietly, and for a second, Sam thinks he might understand now, but that doesn't explain why Cas just looks…sad. "I thought you meant he…that he loves me, in the way I love him. But it seems you meant he likes me the same way he likes all the individuals he…engages in at bars, or in the way the reaper possessing April had when she decided she wanted to have sex."

Sam takes note of Cas' wording, of how he says April's reaper wanted to have sex, carefully excluding whether he himself wanted to or not. Does he think Dean would have sex with him even if he didn't want to? Or does he just not like the implications of only being liked in the sense of arousal?

"Dean likes you for more than just that, Cas. Way more. Half the people he, uh, engages in don't even know his real name, let alone who he is or what he does or anything." Cas still doesn't look convinced, so he tries something else. "If Dean cared so much about all those people, why does he never interact with them for more than a few hours? Why does he never call them back?"

"Because they…no longer serve a purpose?" Sam squirms a little at his word choice, cringing when Cas concludes, "If he engages in sexual intercourse with me as he appears to intend to, he'll no longer wish to interact with me afterwards."

He only barely resists the urge to take Cas by the shoulders and shake him until he starts using his brain instead of his fragile heart only just experiencing these unfamiliar feelings for the first time. "They don't matter to Dean and never have. He doesn't talk to them about things that are bothering him or teach them how to cook or watch Tombstone with them for the eightieth time. They didn't matter before sex and they don't matter after."

"Because he never liked them," Cas surmises slowly, though his head is firmly tipped to the side, even as Sam nods with restrained enthusiasm. "If Dean doesn't care about any of those people, why do they have sex?"

This is never a discussion he wanted to have with anyone, let alone an angel. Years ago, he used to look up to the idea of angels, view them as saviors and a light at the end of the tunnel and all that. Now, he's giving one a lecture on lust vs. love and, in the process, learns that Cas is probably demisexual, at the very least. The sun is well into the sky and the last traces of the chill that was in the air earlier are gone by the time Cas is nodding to the ground, thoughtful.

Before Sam can awkwardly try to excuse himself, Cas looks up with a gentle sort of smile directed at something in the distance, the sort of smile usually directed at Dean. "I think I understand now. Although I'd rather gain confirmation from Dean himself that he…loves me before we engage in sexual intercourse."

"Uh…yeah, great."

"Thank you, Sam," Cas continues earnestly, seeming unaware of Sam's growing discomfort. "I'll tell Dean that I forgive him for his 'boner' in the kitchen the other day—which is a misleading term for it, considering that no bones are involved. Well, in humans, at least. Regardless, I do understand that humans have little control over them and that it wasn't strictly Dean's fault, although I suppose it is nice to know that Dean finds me aesthetically pleasing despite my vessel being biologically male."

"Yeah, that's…good. You…you do that." With that, he's able to finally send the angel on his merry way and salvage what's left of the morning for a short run.

When he returns to the Bunker, sweating and pleasantly tired, he finds Dean and Cas doing their usual staring thing from three feet away in the library and has the distinct urge to smoosh their faces together, though he restrains himself. He's certainly not quiet and he's sure his presence is known by both angel and hunter, but neither one of them so much as glances over long enough to confirm that Sam's back from his unannounced run and that he's alive and well.

Typical. At least things seem like they're back to normal.

Things remain normal with the normal pining—staring from afar, staring when the other looks away, staring in general—and after two days of that as they officially step over the first week of the spell being cast (and a quick message to Rowena that no, the curse hasn't been lifted and yes, they're just as insufferable as before, if not more), Sam begins meddling again.

"Are you certain Dean won't mind?" Cas asks for the fourth time as Sam tries to smooth down his disaster of a collar. "These are Dean's clothes, and he doesn't enjoy sharing most of his possessions…"

"He'll like it," Sam promises yet again. "Besides, he doesn't mind sharing with you."

Cas remains unconvinced all the way up until Dean actually catches sight of Cas as they leave the Bunker's bathroom after Sam gives up on taming his messy hair (though if Dean's curse-induced ramblings are anything to go by, he likes it that way, anyway).

"Whoa," is all Dean says audibly, but his face is saying a whole lot of things Sam doesn't want to think about.

"I'm wearing your clothes," Cas states needlessly, because of course he does.

"You sure are." Dean licks his lips but ducks his head. "Uh, ready to go?"

"Y'know, I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach. Not really feeling going to a restaurant," Sam begins, putting a hand on his perfectly-fine stomach and flashing a weak sort of smile. "Why don't you two just go?"

Before Dean can do more than widen his eyes and open his mouth, no doubt about to bitch incessantly about being left alone with Cas on what's definitely a date, Cas is leaning in with two fingers, murmuring, "Allow me." A flood of angel grace washes over Sam, leaving him pleasantly warm, though he does feel bad for having Cas waste his powers to heal little more than the spot on his face where he'd cut himself shaving. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah, Cas," he sighs, half-baked plan foiled. "Thanks."

Well, there goes any attempt at forcing the two of them on a date and praying. At least he manages to get them to sit on the same side of the table by using his long legs to his advantage and rushing to one of the booths, sitting in the middle to take up as much room as he can. Dean makes a scoffing noise, but Cas scoots right into the other booth without a thought and Dean follows with a bitchy look on his face that fades quickly enough as he starts browsing the menu.

"What are you getting?" Dean asks Cas, who has yet to make an effort towards grabbing a menu.

"Dean, I don't need to eat."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't eat. Why don't you get the pie or something? About time you got a taste of heaven."

"That's not funny, Dean."

"Holy—" Sam takes in a deep breath, forcing away his annoyance. "Dean, if you wanna eat enough for three people, just order it. Don't dump all the orders you're fantasizing about on Cas—" A waitress comes up, so he cuts himself off with a polite smile. "Uh, hi. Can I get a Cobb salad and an iced tea?"

Dean mutters something under his breath that Sam pretends not to hear. "I'll have a double bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a coke, and my buddy here'll have your taco salad and lemon water."

The waitress doesn't look impressed. "Pretty sure your 'buddy' can order for himself."

Sam is unable to contain a quiet snort of amusement at the implications that fly right over Cas' head, the angel instead asking, "Does the taco salad have croutons? I've found that I enjoy their texture."

"Um…I'll see what I can do."

Sam, personally, can't wait to see what she comes up with, but before he can inform a somewhat flustered Dean about this, Cas states, gazing at Dean intensely, "I'm glad that you didn't attempt to invite her to engage in sexual intercourse. I don't like it when you do that. It makes my vessel's chest feel strange."

Dean gawks at Cas openly for a few seconds, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish, and Sam tries his hardest not to make a sound. Dean doesn't end up coming up with a reply (probably due to the spell making him speak his mind—particularly the thoughts he wants to hide—which only works when his brain is online and capable of thinking instead of visibly blue-screening) by the time the waitress comes with their drinks.

It's mildly amusing watching Dean pretend nothing ever happened while Cas tries to squeeze the lemon into his water without touching it by pushing it into the side of the glass with his straw, so Sam watches them do their thing. Cas finally manages to just barely tint the water a pale yellow with the lemon, and Dean's eyes seem to be glued to the condensation that's running down the side of his glass. Seeing no pressing issues, Sam looks down at his phone, but quickly glances up when Cas makes a confused noise.

"Dean, why do you keep kicking my leg? Do you need more room?" Oh god. Dean's trying to play footsie with an angel while Sam is right across from them. Dean just huffs and looks over Cas to stare out the window, and Cas turns to Sam. "Sam, why does Dean keep kicking my leg?"

"I don't know, Cas. Why don't you ask him?"

Dean shoots him such a dirty look for those two seconds it takes for him to meet Cas' eyes and then keep on staring, eyes very unsubtly dropping down to his lips while Cas' just narrow slightly. "Dean."

'Dean'. That's all Cas says, but Dean looks like he might explode, leaning away from him slightly with his body while his eyes never stray. Dean visibly swallows and licks his lips, and Sam leans a little closer in anticipation when Cas' eyes drop to follow the movement. This could be it. Things could be happening, finally happening!

Before anything can happen, however, the waitress appears out of nowhere and starts handing out plates, startling all three of them. The moment evaporates into thin air as they all begin eating, with Dean and Cas seeming to pretend like nothing happened and Sam too frustrated to say a word.

"Tastes like…molecules," Cas mumbles eventually, staring at his plate with a perplexed expression.

"That sucks," Dean replies simply, snatching a chip from his taco salad without asking but quickly making a face. "Or maybe it doesn't. These chips are salty as the freakin' ocean."

Cas tilts his head and opens his mouth, and Sam rushes to explain, "It's just an expression, Cas."

Honestly, the amount of things he has to put up with is unbelievable. Dean takes a big, jaw-crackingly wide bite of his burger and gets a mix of ketchup and mustard to pour down his chin, and Cas leans over without a word to wipe it away with a napkin before they both just pause and look at each other for way too long. When Sam dares to glance up again, it's to Dean stealing half of Cas' food and getting Cas to try a few fries, resulting in ketchup dripping onto Cas' borrowed pants, making them both freeze.

Cas is quick to apologize and scrambles to climb over Dean to go to the bathroom to wash it off, and all Dean can do is sit there and stare at his ass while he walks away, making no effort to get up to help or anything; Sam, at least, has the excuse of knowing this isn't his place, because it absolutely isn't his place to go follow Cas into the bathroom to see if he's doing…well, anything right, really. Cas, of course, returns to the table with a giant wet spot on his pants, which are still lightly tinted with ketchup, and Dean chokes on his drink. If Sam weren't busy gawking, somewhat embarrassed on poor Cas' behalf, he'd probably be laughing.

"Dude, what the hell? What did you do?"

"I tried to wash the ketchup off, although it doesn't seem like I did it correctly…"

"Y'think?" Dean snorts, clearly agitated as he grabs a handful of napkins and pulls Cas closer by the belt loop, leaning down and beginning to use the napkins to dry the wet spot on his thigh. "Geez, it's like I gotta do everything myself, babysitting everybody. Can't even clean a drop of ketchup off your…" Dean's eyes flicker up at Cas suddenly and he bites his lip. "Trying real hard not to make a dick joke right now."

"Thank you, Dean, although I probably wouldn't understand it, anyway," Cas replies mildly. "These are your clothes, though."

"So? 'S not like I've got tons of 'em or anything. 'Sides, uh…you look good."

"'Good,'" the angel repeats, nodding seriously, though were it not for the unnecessary air quotes, Sam would've thought Cas was just agreeing to continue wearing Dean's clothes and subsequently making Sam's life a little easier. "That is…good?"

"Yeah, Cas. It's a good thing."

Cas nods, but Sam can't help but wonder if he's still thinking about the…incident in the kitchen that Sam might just have to ask Rowena for a spell to forget once this is all over. Actually, if everything goes according to plan, he'd probably need that spell on a daily basis if Dean has anything to say about it…

Well, that's future Sam's problem. Right now, Sam just wants these morons to be happy and all that, and if the only way to get there is to make them open their eyes for once, so be it. Noise-canceling headphones are a thing for a reason, and the Bunker's pretty big. If it really gets bad, worst case scenario is somebody maybe moves out; an underground Bunker isn't really a good place for a family or a dog, anyway.

Before he can even begin to worry about any of that, he has to sit through a car ride of awkward silence with Cas sitting in the middle of the backseat like he always does for some…probably weird reason and Dean glancing back at him every few seconds through the rearview mirror. If they get into a car accident because Dean can't keep his eyes off his angel for two seconds, Sam will never let him live it down…

-

Following the diner incident is lots of staring and pining and just eye sex in general, but very little actual communication. Two days of this and Sam's had enough, choosing to try to intervene yet again. This time, in an attempt to get closer to the heart of the problem, Sam has them take a few tests to try to figure out what their love languages are.

He doesn't even try to deceive Cas, but doesn't explain the purpose of the tests, either. The angel just seems happy to be a part of something and never really presses too hard to figure out the purpose of the tests, instead thoughtfully answering every question and taking forever to finish. By the end, he finds Cas' love language is words of affirmation, which is pretty much what Sam expected partially due to Cas' blunt nature and inability to pick up on unsaid things, and also why he'd thought the spell lessening the control over his and Dean's tongues would be more effective than it turned out to be.

He has to get Dean half drunk to take a single test, and then drunker yet to take more than one, and he mocks every other question, leaving his results a lot more skewed than Cas', who had invariably gotten words of affirmation (though maybe with a little acts of service thrown in, likely a result of having been a soldier literally made to serve Heaven for hundreds of thousands of years). Dean, on the other hand, gets acts of service most, but has a round each on gifts and quality time. In a way, all three do seem to fit Dean; he'll bitch and moan and drag his feet, but he does things for people (like buying kale despite hating it himself) to show he cares, first and foremost.

Now that Sam has an idea where the problem is, he can reasonably conclude that he's basically clueless as to how to go about actually doing anything about it. Cas needs somebody to tell him outright how they feel, and Dean shows he cares through his actions. To get them to sort some things out, he's gonna need Cas to maybe start doing things for Dean and Dean to actually talk about his feelings.

Now normally, Sam would try to push Cas first, as he's definitely easier to work with in situations where there's no monster in sight, but given the whole 'earning his keep' talk and the fact that Cas clearly feels he needs to perform in order to be accepted here, Sam's not exactly ready to rush off to tell Cas he needs to start doing stuff for Dean to show that he cares. More than anything, Sam wants their relationship to be a good one, and playing into Cas' insecurities isn't a good way to start a nice, healthy relationship.

So he goes to Dean and says point blank, "You should tell Cas how you feel." Dean had been eating before Sam said this, so he just kind of chokes on his sandwich for a few seconds, but Sam continues, "He won't pick up on something if you don't explicitly tell him, and all this unsaid stuff between you two is just hurting both of you."

"The hell did this come from?" Dean manages to choke out before his face changes into something more serious, solemn. "Did Cas…say something?"

"Does he need to? It's not like you can't figure out these things with a look or anything…" Sam waits for a retort, but Dean stays quiet, which is weird on a normal day but really weird given the curse. Is it wearing off? "Dean?" Dean grunts into his sandwich. "Look, I'm just trying to help, okay? It just seems like Cas has been having a hard time lately and a few words of encouragement could really go a long way. Especially if they come from you."

Dean just takes a huge bite of his sandwich and doesn't reply, and it's then that Sam realizes he must've found a loophole, since he can't admit to much when he can't talk. Sam's never thought of Dean as an idiot, but he has to admit, he didn't see that one coming at all. That explains why the fridge has been emptying so quickly this past week…

Less than an hour later, he finds Cas staring at a wall intently, obviously thinking about something. Sam barely gets the question to ask what's bothering him out before Cas is answering, "Dean spoke to me about being human. Particularly, if I've been enjoying sleeping some nights or if I need to eat yet. He…he offered to prepare microwave burritos."

Cas' voice is shaking just the slightest bit, face sad but resigned. "What's the problem with that?" Sam asks slowly, gently, like he's a frightened victim of one monster or another.

"That's what he made last time."

"Last time?"

"Before he told me I couldn't stay. At the time, I thought he might've been angry at me for what happened with the reaper possessing April, though if I could take it back—"

"Hey, whatever happened with April isn't your fault, okay?" Sam's soul got cozy in the Cage for far too long for him not to recognize the signs of victim blaming right away, and he just can't stand back and hear Cas talk about how it's his fault he was raped, how it's his fault he was forced into something he didn't want to do by someone only trying to hurt him. "Seriously, no matter what, don't blame yourself for it."

"But April wasn't even able to consent—"

"Neither were you, by the sounds of it."

"I…I could've fought it. I wanted to, and if it hadn't been raining and I wasn't bleeding—"

"Cas, seriously, man, don't do this to yourself, okay? It's not good to blame yourself for something you were a victim in." The angel just looks down at his hands, obviously silently blaming himself, and Sam sighs, carefully rerouting to what started this conversation. "Dean offers stuff because he cares. That's…that's his way of saying that he cares about you."

"But the burritos—"

"Are just a cheap brand we can throw in the microwave and eat," Sam finishes for him, not liking how lost Cas looks. "You go shopping with Dean all the time. You know we buy them a lot."

"It seemed…different, being offered one. More significant, especially since he asked before any were actually being cooked…"

Cas always seems to read way too much into something or, infuriatingly, not enough, with zero in between. "He was just asking if you needed anything. Trust me."

"I trust you," Cas replies seriously.

A few years ago, Sam probably would've jumped for joy at the idea of an angel trusting him just out of merit, like how he'd internally freaked out for those few seconds when he first met angels before it became clear how they viewed him, but now, all he does is shift a little awkwardly and pat Cas' shoulder in solidarity before retreating to another room.

It turns out that those microwave burritos, of all things, end up being the thing that really gets the ball rolling. Dean makes Cas one without the angel saying a word and Cas just stares at it for a few minutes until Dean jokes about it not being able to bite him, all while Sam tries his hardest to focus on his own burrito and not on whatever sex joke Dean's about to spew.

That's why he's so surprised when Cas says (probably due to the spell because he's a Winchester now and practically has the words 'I'm fine' tattooed onto his forehead like the rest of them, unfortunately), "I'm not afraid of it biting me, I'm afraid of what it means. Because of what happened the last time I had one."

"Indigestion?" Dean guesses, awkwardness and discomfort nearly tangible.

"You asked me to leave the Bunker, back when I was human." The following silence is paradoxically deafening. "Sam said you weren't planning on asking me to leave again, but that was before you asked about the state of my grace…" Dean keeps on gaping like a fish, but before Sam can interject and spare any more hurt feelings, Cas adds quietly, "If…if you're going to ask me to leave again, I'd rather you just get it over with. At least it won't be a surprise this time."

"Whoa, hey, nobody's asking you to leave, buddy." A wave of guilt washes Dean's face as he realizes aloud, "Guess I didn't exactly ask last time, though, huh."

"'Last time,'" Cas repeats, lifting his shaking hands up just to incorrectly throw in some air quotes, "implies that there's a next time. Is this next time?"

"There's no next time."

"My powers are significantly weaker now than they've ever been, possibly ever. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to be of use to you or be able to protect you."

"Cas, I'm not gonna kick you out for that. Didn't we just go over this? You're allowed to stay here, y'know, with us. With…with me…and stuff. Y'know, if you want."

"But without my grace—"

"I don't give a crap about your mojo, Cas. Makes no difference to me," Dean snaps, which is just all the wrong things to say judging by how Cas' face just…crumbles. "I mean…crap."

"It's okay, Dean. I understand."

Dean physically shutters. "That's what you said last time."

"Yes." There's a long pause before Cas' gaze drops to the table as he admits, "I don't understand. I didn't then, either. I don't want to go."

"No one's asking you to go, man. Just 'cause your powers are on the fritz doesn't mean you have to leave."

"But last time—"

"Last time was because Sammy was sick and that-that dick angel possessing him said it was him or you. It wasn't because you didn't have your powers," Dean says, voice wavering between firm and awkward, occasionally glancing at Sam. Sam just tries to stay out of all this, more than glad that they're actually talking. "It was just…bad timing for a bad situation."

"You had to save Sam. I understand. I just regret that I didn't have my grace and couldn't help him myself, that you were forced to rely on an angel—"

"An angel that was just as much a manipulative scumbag as the rest?" Dean's biting remark makes Cas' entire face fall all over again. "Damnit. I meant the other ones. Gotta be some reason why you choose to slum it up with the mud-monkeys, right?"

"I stay here because I love you," Cas says softly, hunching deeper into his trench coat comfort blanket, and Sam actually can't contain the shocked, choking sound that comes out of his mouth, though neither of the other occupants of the table even glance towards him.

"Well, I…I know I do a lousy job of showing it, but, uh…me too, pal." The 'pal' probably takes away from it, but if Cas even picks up on the…platonicization, he doesn't show it, instead silently staring at Dean. "Look, I know the past…has been more downs than ups, but listen, I swear that no matter what—no matter how big a fight we get into or what happens in the future—you're never gonna be kicked out again, okay? This is your home, too, Cas, and if those dickbag angels wanna give you the boot and keep you out, screw them. For however long you want it, no strings attached, grace or no grace, no matter how much sleep or food or whatever you need…this place is your home, too."

Sam's not surprised to glance up and see that Cas looks like he might cry, but he is a little surprised by the sight of matching tears in Dean's eyes. Neither of them ever look away from each other, but Sam's still too afraid to move a muscle as Dean, after great hesitation and some mid-air trajectory reevaluation, puts a hand on Cas' shoulder. Instead of a platonic buddy-buddy shoulder pat, he just leaves it there and they stare at each other, and Sam feels like he's intruding but is afraid all the progress they've made will just go right down the drain if he dares to move or say anything and remind them of the world outside of each other's eyes.

In the end, he doesn't have to, since Dean eventually clears his throat, asking gruffly despite his voice breaking a little, "You get it through your thick angel skull this time?" Cas doesn't move, frozen until Dean asks a little softer, "There any way to make it up to you?"

"I already forgave you."

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't have."

"Well, I have."

"Okay." Dean bites his lip and nods, obviously forcing back tears in a way that makes Sam wonder if maybe the spell doesn't just loosen their tongues. "Okay," Dean repeats, only now patting Cas' shoulder lightly before removing his hand entirely. It's a long moment in which they all stare down at their cold microwave burritos before Dean lets out a watery sort of chuckle. "Damn, what's with these things and making everybody cry? Anybody want theirs reheated?"

Cas doesn't indicate anything one way or the other, but when Dean stands with his own half-eaten burrito, he wordlessly takes Cas' plate, too, never sparing Sam a glance. Sam actually wouldn't be surprised if they forgot he's here, though he's proven wrong when Cas looks over at him, obviously still affected by Dean's words.

"Dean's right, Cas," Sam begins after a moment, not wanting to take away from what Dean said but add to it, though he knows his words won't mean as much to Cas as Dean's do, as has always been the case when it comes to Dean and Castiel. "No matter what happens, you'll always have a place here. You'll always have a home to come back to for as long as you want it."

Sam's never really had a home that he can remember, so despite being mostly adjusted, he's still struggling with the idea of actually having a place to come back to, too. Dean had four years of normalcy and Sam had six months he can't even remember, and if the idea is overwhelming to them, he can really only imagine what it might be like to be as old as Cas and never really having a place to put down any roots, never having a place to just…come back to without any expectations or obligations hanging over his head, never having to do anything to earn a place to stay or anything.

He relates to Cas in a lot of ways, really. They both defied their fathers and everyone around them for one thing or another—Sam for college and a taste of the apple pie life and Cas for Dean—both do their worst when they try their hardest to do their best, both try to see the good in everyone (though Sam's rapidly growing out of that nowadays)… All in all, Sam's just happy that after all the angel's sacrifices and how hard he's been trying, Cas gets to have a home, too.

Dean, for his part, just returns with the reheated burritos and sets Cas' still unopened one in front of him, expressing simply, "Damn straight. Dig in, Cas."

Sam bites his tongue to refrain from commenting on his choice of words and finishes his cold burrito. They've made incredible progress today, and he can't help but feel a bit like a proud dog parent watching the two new puppies get along. There's still lots to teach them and lots of stuff to work through, but for now, he lets them have this moment and quietly retreats to his room.

-

Sam's not-so-internally freaking out. Dean would kill him if he knew Sam lost his angel, but he really has no idea where Cas could've gone. He'd just taken Cas to a nearby farmer's market that Dean just blew a raspberry at upon hearing about his plans for the day and one minute, he was showing Cas a weird display of locally grown butternut squash that had been next to the honey stand and the next, Cas had disappeared.

So now he has to consider his options. Calling Cas is out since he's pretty notorious for never answering his phone (Sam's not entirely convinced he even knows how to check his messages), and he'd consider praying to Cas to ask him where he's at, but Cas only ever answers the prayers of one Winchester, and it's not Sam, and calling Dean to ask him to call or pray to Cas will mean Dean knows Sam lost his angel.

Luckily, Sam has the advantage of height that lets him see over everybody's heads and long legs that take him around the area quickly, but he's this close to calling out for Cas like he's a lost dog when he finally sees a flash of tan in a distant field. Sam doesn't waste any time in heading over to him, despite knowing Cas is way older than him and definitely capable of being off on his own. Still, it would've been nice if Cas said he planned on wandering off…

With some effort, instead of being too confrontational, he just asks once he's close enough to see the angel sitting in the field, surrounded by tall grass and flowers, "Cas? What are you doing way out here?"

"Picking flowers," Cas replies simply, adding yet another dandelion to his bundle of dandelions. "You said flowers are a way to show romantic interest in someone." Sam forces back a comment and just nods, worst fears confirmed when, to his amusement, Cas continues, "These are for Dean. Do you think he'll like them?"

Sam looks at the sloppy bundle of plucked flowers in Cas' hands, spotting the whitish sap sticking to Cas' hands, though the angel seems more concerned with the…bouquet of mostly dandelions that he's holding. "From you? Yeah." Cas smiles proudly, nodding at his creation before carefully adding another dandelion to it. Sam clears his throat softly. "Uh, Cas? You know people don't usually give people…dandelions, right?"

"Why not?"

"They're considered weeds by a lot of people."

Cas looks personally affronted by that, bringing them closer to his chest like he plans on defending them from other people's opinions. "I like them."

"You're allowed to like them, I just thought you should know." The angel suddenly looks a little less certain than a few minutes ago, so Sam assures, "Dean will probably like them too, if you give it to him." Cas hums thoughtfully, turning the bundle, and Sam watches for a minute before trusting Cas to be safe here alone. "Hey, I'm gonna keep shopping. I'll meet you at the truck whenever you're ready to go, okay?"

Cas gives no indication that he heard Sam, but worst case scenario, Sam just calls him later and asks where he is, which does end up being the case when Sam finishes going to each and every stand and talking to some of the people there with philosophies that don't revolve around classic rock and truckstop food and finds that Cas still isn't at the truck. He messages Cas a few times, and after a few minutes, the messages appear as read.

When Cas does come to the truck, his bundle doesn't look much bigger than it did before, though there are noticeably less dandelions in it. Sam's almost afraid to ask, but when he does, Cas just evasively says something about not wanting to present Dean with a bouquet of weeds, making him feel bad for saying anything at all.

He drives them back to the Bunker, and after preemptively texting Dean and telling him not to be a dick with zero context to go with the message, they get out of the truck. Sam takes his time grabbing a few of the paper bags of fruits and vegetables he'd bought, since Cas ends up doing the Cas equivalent of running full-speed into the Bunker like an excited little kid, flowers in hand. Sam ends up getting stuck trying to open the door leading from the garage to the Bunker, and by the time he reaches the kitchen, the flowers are inside one of their whiskey glasses on the table.

Sam smiles a little at that, glad Cas' unconventional gift was apparently well-received, and continues sneaking vegetables into the fridge while Dean and Cas are…somewhere. By the time he's finished unloading all the new groceries, he still hasn't seen either of them, and the Bunker's suspiciously silent.

He really tries not to get his hopes up, but honestly can't help it as he roams from room to room looking for them, finally stopping in front of Dean's door, already cracked open. He carefully nudges it a little further, and that's where he finds Dean and Cas, squished hip to hip on Dean's bed with a laptop between them, heads dropped against each other's shoulders, both clearly asleep. Picking flowers must've really taken a lot out of Cas if he's tired enough to fall asleep, but in light of their position, Sam doesn't think of it as a bad thing for now.

Of course, when they wake up, neither of them say a word about what happened, but they keep glancing at each other and smiling before looking away again. Sam has no idea what else might've happened, but he's glad whatever went down occurred, since he's never been more hopeful that Destiel might actually become canon than he is now.

Dean, as predicted, later bitches about the amount of green now tarnishing the fridge, but Sam's able to distract him by asking about the flowers. Instead of getting all embarrassed, Dean just grins, fondly looking through the doorway at Cas, who's reading a book with a full-on squint in the library.

"Isn't he a little angel?"

"Uh…yeah, Dean. Last I checked, he's an angel."

"Mm, damn right, he is…"

Sam still has no idea what to make of that conversation, and it only gets worse as the day progresses. A hunter a few states over needs help with researching a spell, and Cas decides to attempt to test the spell they think it is. This is all well and good, but when Sam makes a joke about Cas getting some of the grosser ingredients on his coat, Cas actually takes it off entirely, leaving him in the purple flannel and too-big jeans he'd stolen from Dean nearly a week ago; Dean has yet to take his eyes off of Cas' ass as the angel attempts to be productive, and Sam just attempts to keep his lunch down.

"He's so hot," Dean mutters appreciatively, a big stupid grin on his face. Sam's pretty sure he pukes in his mouth, but somehow manages to hold his tongue. "Mhm, look at those eyes, those lips, those thighs. You ever seen his hip bones? Could cut glass with those things. If only he didn't bundle up like an Eskimo nun all the time… Do Eskimos have nuns?"

It's obscene, and if this is an indicator for what's to come, Sam's beginning to doubt whether he wants to get them together or not. But this isn't about him, and Dean's obnoxious…appreciations aside, this is the happiest he can remember either of them ever being. Who's he to take that away from them?

So he keeps it up. He helps Cas make a pie for Dean that actually has Dean in tears when he's presented with a slice. He helps Dean realize that actions can only help solidify verbal admissions with Cas, which makes Cas realize what Dean had been showing him without words all along. He helps Cas learn all of Dean's favorites because if there's one way to Dean's heart, it's through the food he'd been deprived of as a kid to let Sam eat when there wasn't enough. He helps Dean pick up the courage to make stuff with Cas, citing that they all know Sam burns water and shouldn't be anywhere near a stove. He helps Cas get the idea to hold Dean's hand the next time they're all in the Impala. He helps give Dean the push he needs to branch off into pet names beyond 'buddy' and 'pal' (though Dean still does use them weirdly frequently). He helps Cas know how to silently show Dean he loves him, and at the same time, helps Dean verbally tell Cas the same.

It really has been something special watching Dean and Cas' relationship unfold and giving them small nudges to keep up with the progress. It hasn't all been easy, like when Cas first thought Dean was trying to cook with him because he hadn't been doing it right or when Dean thought Cas' acts of service were out of obligatory like Heaven had demanded of him for so long, but through it all, Dean and Cas' love for each other and profound bond prevailed.

Still, despite all the times he's walked in on Dean forcing Cas to watch Doctor Sexy, M.D. or Tombstone or some other crappy thing, or Cas becoming convinced Dean actually likes the dandelion centerpiece on the kitchen table and that he's not just fond of it because Cas made it but Dean not having the heart to correct him, or the whole misunderstanding regarding Dean's use of the pet name 'angel' (which has since become one of Cas' favorites, Sam thinks, though he seems to love all of them), Sam can't hardly believe they'd ever gotten to this point, where he can sit in front of a laptop and book reservations for a fancier restaurant under the name 'Winchester,' let alone book it for two people instead of three.

"It's booked," Sam informs Dean quietly, since Dean had been too busy twiddling his thumbs and not making the reservation before Sam came in and offered to help. "Do you…uh, need help picking something to wear?"

"What, they don't allow leather jackets?"

"I'm sure Cas would like you in anything," (Sam very nearly does vomit at that), "but maybe try ditching the flannel, just for the first date."

"First date," Dean repeats, sounding almost breathless, running a hand through his hair. "Can't believe it's…"

Dean cuts himself off, but Sam doesn't comment and goes to help him pick out something nice, which is difficult when basically all either of them own is flannel and denim. In the end, Dean ends up with a weirdly nice dark green button-up shirt and some darker jeans, which is basically his equivalent of pulling out all the stops as far as dressing up goes. Dean goes off to shower before his date instead of immediately putting anything on, and Sam tries and fails not to feel like a proud parent, wondering if this is how Dean felt when he'd gotten Sam all ready for his first few dates back when he was in, like, 7th grade.

He tries not to think about it and seeks out Cas, who's trying and failing to style his hair in front of a mirror in the bathroom. "Need some help?" he asks sympathetically as the angel nods glumly, relinquishing the hairbrush. "Here, let me…"

Sam makes quick work of Cas' hair, purposefully keeping it a little on the messy side as opposed to going full-on choir boy. Once he's done with that, he also helps Cas pick an outfit, though he ends up spending more time convincing him to leave the trench coat at home than he does picking out a plain blue button-up and the same slacks Cas used to wear all the time before swapping to Dean's clothes.

He leaves Cas to finish whatever else he has to do before meeting Dean in the hallway. Now committing to mirroring the 7th grade, Sam makes sure to dump all kinds of arbitrary rules relating to social etiquette on his brother, telling him to hold all the doors and be nice and all that, only partially joking. Not that Cas would even know the difference, they both know, given that this is his first date ever. Actually, come to think of it, it's one of Dean's first dates, too, as he usually skips straight to…other stuff.

Sam sits as inconspicuously as possible for someone of his stature in an otherwise empty library room as Dean paces in front of the staircase. Finally, Cas comes out to join him, and Sam glances up from his phone (with which he's taking dozens of pictures) just in time to watch Dean's eyes trace up and down Cas' form while Cas' never strays from Dean's face.

"Ready to go, sunshine?" Dean eventually rasps out.

"Yes." It seems Dean actually does take his teasing advice to heart, leading Cas up the stairs before fumbling with the door. "I think I'm excited. But…also nervous."

"Yeah, me too…" They both walk about the main door, but return a few seconds later, Dean's face bright red and clearly flustered and Cas just tilting his head as he's pulled behind him by the arm (which isn't very romantic, but Cas doesn't seem to mind). "Damnit…"

"Wrong door?" Sam calls out once they disappear, but Dean just yells a harsh, 'Shut up!' back. Figuring he's already broken his vow of silence, he adds, "Call me if you guys need anything, but have fun, okay? It's just the two of you."

He doesn't get a reply and has no idea if they even heard him, but given what they're about to do, Sam doesn't take it personally, instead listening as the Impala pulls out and drives away. At that point, it's a waiting game, so Sam occupies himself with binging TV shows even he knows are crappy up until he hears the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine as Dean and Cas return.

He stalks out of his room to peek in on them as they both come out of the garage, phone ready, and watches as Dean shifts awkwardly in the doorway and Cas stares at him with a head so far tilted that it's nearly sideways. If they're talking, he can't hear anything, though given their propensity for staring and not for talking, Sam's not particularly worried.

That is, until Dean nods to himself and pushes past Cas with a dangerously platonic pat on the shoulder, scurrying off presumably to his room, obliviously flustered. Sam takes one look at Cas, who's somehow tilting his head even further to the side, and determines him not to be a flight risk before intercepting Dean with a, "Dude, what the hell?"

"What?" Dean snaps, obviously embarrassed.

"You know exactly what. What just happened in there?"

"Nothing." Sam gives him a look. "Nothing! I don't know! I panicked, okay? Why don't you try looking at Cas and thinking about finally getting to kiss him after way too damn many years!"

"Uh, yeah, no problems there," Sam mutters, making Dean look even more flustered. "So you were, what, overwhelmed?"

"Well…yeah!" Dean, obviously frustrated by either the curse or himself, continues almost angrily, "A date, that could mean anything, and Cas sure as hell wouldn't have a clue what half of those things are. But a kiss—that's pretty freakin' clear, even to Cas!" Dean pauses, exhaling through his nose. "It…it'd change things, Sam. And what I have with Cas now? It's pretty damn good."

"You don't wanna risk it," Sam realizes aloud, and to his surprise, Dean nods, though his jaw does tighten. "So, what, you wanna wait until Cas kisses you first? Might be a pretty long wait, since all his other…experiences were kind of…coerced."

He winces the second the word comes out, but Dean's expression hardens. "All the more reason to wait 'til he initiates. Dude's had enough 'coercion' for a lifetime."

That's…a surprisingly mature mindset to take, really, and Sam has no doubts that he wouldn't be hearing about it were it not for the spell Rowena put on him. Still, given Cas' past, not to mention his entire life under Heaven's thumb, it's actually pretty respectable of Dean to want to wait until Cas initiates something. That said, it's also more than a little frustrating, since Sam knows Cas is incredibly unlikely to ever kiss Dean without his explicit permission (a throwback to angels needing permission to possess someone, maybe?).

So, in order to get the idiots to kiss and break the spell, thereby going past the point of no return and solidifying their relationship once and for all, he needs to get Dean to give his permission to being kissed, either in the midst of it all or beforehand. Given Dean's usual reluctance to do anything involving feelings or emotions, this task seems impossible, but with the curse…it's still basically impossible. Great.

"Why don't you just ask Cas if he wants to be kissed? You know he'll answer honestly." With the spell's help, he has no choice, though Sam doesn't say that.

"Honestly because he actually wants it, or honestly 'cause he thinks that's what I want?"

Sam…can't actually answer that, knowing that the truth is subjective and that knowing Cas, being forced to speak his mind is more than likely going to dip into both of those options. He can practically count on one hand the amount of times Cas asked for something because he himself needed it, let alone wanted it, and then there's the whole war in Heaven he was fighting in which he and Dean continuously ignored his pleas for help in favor of asking him to help out with their problems instead, which he did basically every time despite how busy he must've been…

At the same time, Dean's not exactly one to ask for what he wants, either, though he's usually more forward in the…what Sam is generously calling the 'relationship' area. He would rather avoid having to be the one to teach Cas how to pick up on the tells that someone wants to be kissed at all costs, which leaves him with maybe getting them both to admit it at the same time. With these two morons, it's easier said than done, for sure…

The next three days, Sam spends scheming, trying to think of a good way to get the local idiots to talk things about. Those same three days, Dean and Cas are practically attached at the hip—even more so than usual—and never seem to spend more than half an hour apart, which is certainly promising as far as getting them to finally break the spell goes but also infuriating due to the fact that they haven't broken it yet despite all this.

In those three days, Sam can't even count the number of times he's caught them watching crap TV together, eating side by side, voluntarily sharing a bed (or one armchair, as it were) now that Cas apparently sleeps at night more often than not… That's not even mentioning all the staring, which is all but constant as usual and now also paired with hand holding after Sam jokingly suggested it to Cas one time on the second day.

Through it all, they never actually kiss, and it's just so frustrating because Sam just doesn't know what to do, now reconsidering the idea of just shoving them both in a closet already. Normally, he'd be content with just letting nature take its course and watching the two work through it at their own pace, but given how long they've been in love and how equally long they haven't been acknowledging that, Sam's really given up any hope of that happening, not to mention that Dean had asked him to start researching ways to break the curse again and Sam couldn't think of a good way to squirm out of it without admitting he knows the cure.

Honestly, though, telling them the cure is looking more and more like the best course of action these days. As much as he'd rather avoid it, it'd be a surefire way to get them to kiss already. At the same time, he doesn't want either of them thinking the kiss was only to become cured, so he mostly holds his tongue and tolerates it, knowing it'll only get a lot worse when they actually go through with it. He settles for just strongly implying to each of them separately to kiss and offers no explanations as to why.

Rowena digs for updates frequently, seeming more amused than anything that it's taking so long, but Sam doesn't really update her on the situation more than just telling her that the curse is still unbroken and Dean and Cas are still spouting whatever thoughts come to mind with very little inhibition. Which basically means that now that they're slowly allowing themselves to become closer and move more towards officially being a couple, Sam has to sit through Dean…appreciating various parts of Cas' body and Cas' frequent soliloquies about how nice Dean's soul apparently is or how much Cas loves one aspect of his personality or another.

(More often than not, these soliloquies are delivered in Enochian, which makes sense in a way, given that that'd be Cas' native language. Sam knows a little Enochian through his time spent in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer, who almost exclusively spoke it, as he assumes angels default to when English-speaking humans aren't around, so he knows enough Enochian to know that Cas is a complete and utter sap, but thankfully not enough to know the specifics. It never really occurred to Sam that Cas probably has to mentally translate just about everything he says to them and vice versa.)

He hopes that whenever the spell is broken, either through Dean and Cas talking things out or through him walking up and shoving their dumb faces together until they start making out, he won't have to endure any more of these types of…conversations with either of them. He's pretty sure Dean's just doing it to piss him off, anyway, though Cas seems genuinely clueless about how weird it is that he's all but writing poetry about his brother and telling him about it.

Sam's golden opportunity ends up coming unexpectedly in the form of a movie night he's probably only invited to because it's a cheesy romantic movie with a plotline so generic that he can barely stomach it, allowing Dean to vacuum up all the popcorn. Dean's been a bit of a dick lately and seems to really be honing in on his sixth sense of how to be an annoying big brother, but given that Sam is kind of responsible for the curse that loosened his emotionally constipated lips, he can't really do anything about it but sit there and suck it up.

Nonetheless, when the couple on the screen kisses at sunset just before the end credits begin and their joined figures fade to black, Cas notes aloud, "He asked her to stay."

"Yeah." Sam rubs at his eyes, as if that can erase the last eighty-seven awful minutes of cliches he'd been forced to endure, the horrible pop music ending song about soulmates making him wish he were back in the Cage. He'd rather have watched Die Hard for the eighty-thousandth time.

"Why?"

If Sam were in a more sympathetic mood, he might've explained it to the angel, but as is, he just replies with just a dash of smartass that Cas probably doesn't even pick up on anyway, "Maybe because he wanted her to stay."

That makes Cas frown before turning to Dean, whose arm and leg are all but fused to Cas' with how close they're sitting as he licks butter off his fingertips. "Dean, why have you never asked me to stay? You've said that I can remain here if I wish, but never expressed that you wanted me to."

Dean looks as caught off guard as Sam feels, but still fumbles out, "Didn't want you to feel like you had to. I mean, you always bail for a reason, right?"

"I didn't think you wanted me to stay. I never wanted to…'overstay my welcome,'" the angel says, hands still raised for his misused air quotes even long after the sentence leaves his mouth.

"'Course I want you here," Dean's quick to refute. "I just thought you never wanted to stick around, and the last thing I wanted to do was to make you feel obligated or anything."

"Why would I feel obligated?"

"Why else would you stay?"

Cas squints at Dean like he's being particularly dense, stating with heart-stopping simplicity, "Because I love you."

"I…uh…y'know…yeah," is Dean's amazing reply as he nods to himself then stands abruptly, sending the last little spark of hope that had been building within Sam down to die in the depths of Hell. "I'm gonna get more popcorn. You wanna come with?"

Cas nods slowly and follows earnestly, if a little dejectedly, though he only points out mildly as the two leave presumably for the kitchen, "The movie is over, Dean. Is it customary to make more popcorn even after the movie is finished?"

Sam debates on what to do, but when the credits start playing another song he can't stand, it really is the last straw that has him jumping up from his armchair and following Dean and Cas into the kitchen, only to pause at the sight of them even closer than usual, Cas loosely holding a new, unopened bag of popcorn in one hand and Dean holding onto that wrist as if to stop it. He's pretty sure they both know he's there, but instead of suddenly breaking away or anything, they just keep on staring until it becomes really awkward for Sam to still be there.

Just as he turns around and starts his hasty retreat, however, there's a cacophony of what he recognizes as the sharp sounds of glass breaking as all the lights in the Bunker suddenly explode, plunging all three of them into darkness. A second later, there's a dull thump that's probably the sound of the bag of microwave popcorn dropping to the ground, which makes the moment seem just a little more hysterical.

"Damnit, Cas," Dean mutters after a solid five seconds have passed, though he sounds more amused than annoyed. "What happened?"

"I-I'm not sure. My grace as well as my vessel seem to have reacted quite strongly when you did that…strange thing with your tongue and grabbed my—"

"Okay!" Sam interrupts, hands up in defense. "Cas, don't you dare finish that sentence!"

"What's the matter, Sammy? I thought you wanted this," Dean says, sounding way too smug for his own good. "Weren't you the one counseling me on how I should just plant one on him already? And at least we're all spell-free now, right? All good to keep it all in again and everything."

"Sam has been suggesting I do the same," Cas states, head tilt practically audible. "Did you know that would lift the spell, Sam?"

Sam can practically feel the confused, squinted eyes locked onto him as Dean answers before he can even open his mouth, "'Course he did. He's the one who sicced Rowena on us in the first place."

"Rowena?"

There's a noise Sam can only pray is Dean patting Cas' shoulder. "I'll explain it later. Until then, how's about you and me get outta here?"

"But Dean, the lights—"

"I've got my phone flashlight. Why bother fixing them when they're just gonna blow right back out?"

Cas hums in obvious confusion at that, but instead of commenting, expresses worriedly, "Dean, you're still behaving strangely. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Buddy, I've never been better." That was definitely not a shoulder Dean just smacked.

"Guys, what the hell, I'm still here. And are you seriously still calling Cas 'buddy'? You just kissed!"

"How do you know? It's not like you can see anything."

"Yeah, that's how I know," Sam grumbles to himself.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know that would happen. Dean just startled me when he—"

"It's fine, Cas," he rushes to say, desperate not to hear just what amazing thing Dean might've done. "No harm done, I'll just…go out and get some lightbulbs. From the store."

"There are lightbulbs in the storage room," Cas tells him, so crushingly earnest that Sam could almost burst out laughing—if he didn't want to leave the Bunker as fast as possible, that is.

He doesn't need to see Dean's face to know what's on his agenda tonight…hopefully after a long discussion about limits and honesty, though, so that Cas knows he doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want (though given that it's Dean and Cas is probably something like demisexual, Sam's not too worried. He cares about Cas, definitely, but Dean loves him).

"No, that's okay, I need to get out anyway. Might not be back until morning, actually." He trips his way up the stairs, barely able to see a few inches in front of his face and going mostly on muscle memory and praying he doesn't crack his skull open. "You two…uh, have fun. Try not to level the Bunker. And maybe talk about things first, huh?"

"I don't understand. Why would we level the Bunker?"

He can practically hear the smirk in Dean's tone as he replies in what Sam can unfortunately recognize as his flirty voice, "Oh, angel, if you think that was a lot, just you wait. That was just the tip of the iceberg."

"You have an iceberg?" Cas asks, baffled, and that's thankfully the last thing Sam hears before he slams the door behind him.

If they're gonna be like this all the time, he'd better buy enough lightbulbs to provide for a small country for a decade. Unwilling to see what else they plan on destroying, Sam jumps into a car and hits the road, waiting until he's a good twenty miles away before he relaxes enough to call Rowena.

"Ah, Samuel. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Two hundred dollars, that's what you owe."

"Ohh, did the wee angel and the dashing apple of his eye finally break the spell?"

"Oh, they're about to do a whole lot more than that." Rowena hums, sounding beyond amused, and Sam wastes no time in asking the important questions: "What do you have as far as soundproofing warding goes? Or minor memory erasing spells, for that matter."

He never imagined he'd ever willingly call up a witch to ask for a spell to erase his memory, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Sam's unfortunately very aware of how little shame his brother can have in these types of situations, and though it might be different with Cas because Dean actually knows and cares about him, Sam's not naive enough to believe for a second that he won't ever walk in on anything he'd rather have never seen, especially during their little honeymoon phase.

Growing up, Sam would dream of escaping the hunting life and breaking free, of living the life he wanted with maybe a wife and a few kids, and the best part is, not only can he still have that if he chooses to, but Dean and Cas can, too. Sure, Sam might still have to sit and listen to each side try to figure out how to best tell the other something, and he might have to work with each of them separately to help them pick out something nice to wear on their dates (and sit back proudly when Dean fumbles over his words when he sees Cas and Cas almost bashfully compliments the color of Dean's shirt and how it matches his eyes, which was of course Sam's intention because he knows Cas would notice something like that), but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

It wasn't easy by any means, and though he still disagrees with the name, Sam can finally, honestly say that Destiel is now canon, Dean and Cas are together, and all is right in the world—even if Dean does still call Cas 'buddy' on the regular and Sam has lots of spells to cast on himself for the foreseeable future.

Now, he wonders what type of spell it'd take to get a marriage on the horizon…