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Dean frees his ringing phone from his pocket. Staring at the caller ID for nearly too long. “Cas?”
“Hello, Dean.”
“Is that really you? You sound… I dunno different. Are you okay? Where are you? Where have you been? It’s been-”
“I’m at the main door. I, um, I didn’t want to just… Knock.”
Dean is running up the metal staircase before Castiel can finish his sentence. The locks thud and creak, and the henges squeak as he pulls open the heavy door. He isn’t sure what his face does as his eyes are met with the best sight he’s seen in over a month.
“Cas?” he asks, taking in Castiel’s attire. He wants to grab and hug him, but he’s scared it won’t be welcomed. “You - you’re wearing jeans. Where’s your suit?”
Castiel ducks his head and bends, reaching to the side to pick up a large hiking backpack. “Haven’t required a suit lately.”
Dean stares at Cas’s wry smile, which seems inconsistent with the worry hiding in his eyes. Something is definitely different. Cas has changed—not just his clothes, either. Dean jolts back to reality and steps aside.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Get in here.” He tries to sound more confident than he feels.
Seeing Castiel’s entire body relaxes Dean, and he feels so many emotions he doesn’t know which to settle on. So he quickly turns and tromps down the stairs. Castiel follows more leisurely, listening as Dean talks a mile a minute.
“Sammy won’t believe you’re home. He figured I’d run you off for good this time. Can’t say I blame him. Figured he was right. Don’t know your plans, but I’ve kept your room clean. I was making lunch - but that can wait. Where ya been? Whatcha been up to? Never mind, you don’t have to tell me anything. Unless you want to, ya know. Or you can just-”
“Dean.”
Dean almost has to slap a hand over his mouth to stop the word vomit. He stops in the middle of the kitchen and turns to face Castiel. So afraid that his, well, maybe not his best friend anymore, is going to tell him to go to hell and run back out that damn door.
Castiel’s soft look is calming. “What are you in the process of making for lunch?”
“Um… Hamburger Helper.”
“That sounds great. I skipped breakfast to make the bus on time.”
Dean’s brain screeches to a halt. Cas skipped breakfast, he rode a bus.
“Dean, I’m-”
“Cas, what hap-”
They both stopped and waited.
“Can we please discuss this over lunch? I’m starving,” Castiel asks with a shy, almost frightened look.
“Yeah, yes. Of course, Cas. Just let me,” Dean rushes to check the ingredients he’d pulled off the heat moments ago. Stirring it, he removes the lid and returns the liquid to the heated eye, turning it back up to continue boiling it down. “Maybe five more minutes?”
“Sounds perfect. Is there anything I can do to assist you?”
Dean just shakes his head and mumbles something about having things under control and for Cas to sit. He has no idea what actual words make it out of his mouth.
“This is better than I thought it would be. The color of it is… well, it tastes great.” Castiel says, halfway through his second helping.
“O-Kay,” Dean agrees slowly. “So, you can taste food again? Cas, the only time you can taste stuff is -”
Castiel pauses his chewing and nods. “When I’m human. Or near enough.”
Dean forgets how to breathe for a moment or two. His fingers feel all tingly, and suddenly, the food is flavorless.
“Cas, what happened? Who did this to you? Who took your grace?” Dean’s voice might have started off worried, but by the end, he is well and truly angry. How dare those asshat Angels do this to Cas again!
“No one took my grace, Dean.”
Dean squints; Cas is much too calm. “What d’ya mean ‘no one took your grace?’ You got here on a bus. You taste this crap. Man, you had to take a freakin’ piss while ago. The hell, Cas?”
“My grace is suppressed, or perhaps contained, is a better descriptor. I can’t explain exactly how it ‘feels’ because this is quite new and different from before. It’s held back, apart from this, uh, my body. I do not have access to it. I am as human as I was when Metatron stole it.”
“Cas, did someone hurt you? Were you hexed? I swear, I’ll deal with them and get you fixed.”
“No. You won’t.” The look on Castiel’s face stops Dean’s rebuttal from forming into proper words. “I did this of my own free will. I needed to be this way, to be human.”
Dean opens his mouth, a thousand questions spinning around in his mind, but the only thing that escapes is a barely audible, “Why?”
“To have a chance,” Castiel hesitates, clears his throat, and seems to change his course. “To prove myself.”
“What in the world are you trying to prove that requires you to give up your Angel powers?”
Castiel looks more disillusioned than Dean has ever seen him. ‘Oh god, no. He looks like he did that time Gadreel made me kick him out. No, no, I can’t put him through that again.’
“Wait, wait, Cas.” Dean reaches across the table and grabs Castiel’s wrist. “Just… talk to me, man.”
So Castiel does.
Dean listens. He learns about Cas’ time in Florida and the friendly people he met. Dean had to fight the urge to squirm when Cas practically gushed about the one chick - well, Witch, as it turns out. Cas became quite close to her, and Dean didn’t like how his stupid caveman brain latched onto that fact. He should be happy for his friend - making new friends.
When Cas reached the part of the story where he drank the concoction, the look of wonder and excitement on his face tossed Dean’s jealousy and hurt feelings right out of his system. How could he be upset when Cas was so happy?
Then Cas explained how he’d felt when Dean and Sam dismissed him as useless outside some big boss fight, that even Dean only called him when his powers would help them win.
“I have knowledge and skills beyond my warrior status. I’ve existed longer than humans have calculated time and pre-pre-history. Plus, the time I have been on Earth and the things I’ve learned by being in contact with you and so many other humans… l-l-l’m not a hammer, Dean.” Castiel was nearly yelling by the end of his rant.
Dean can see the hurt on Castiel’s face. He knows it’s all true. How often did they call on him, no matter his circumstances? No thought, just greed. Dean wanted to run and hide. His head hurts, and his guts are twisting inside out. Shame. That’s what he feels. Self-hatred and disgraced. Why would Cas want anything to do with him after years of him treating an Angel of the Lord like… a plaything, his personal nuke?
“Cas, I-” Dean had to clear his throat to get his voice working. “I’m sorry. You’re right about everything. How can you stand to be in the same room with an obnoxious bastard like me? It sounds like you made some good friends down in Florida. Maybe that Georgette would treat you like you deserve.” It hurt to say, but he needed to give Cas an out. He can’t look at Cas, so he stares at the crumbs and congealed sauce on his plate.
“Dean,” Castiel says softly. Dean isn’t sure if he really heard it or if he wants to hear it so badly that he imagines it.
“Dean,” he feels Cas’ hand on his forearm. Casting his eyes up just enough to see that Castiel had moved his own plate and was leaning across the table, trying to catch Dean’s eyes. “I only told you all of this so you can know why I’ve chosen to take this step. I’m not trying to hurt you or punish you in any way. Please know that I wish to be here… with you.”
“With us?”
Castiel shakes his head. “With you.”
Dean bites his lip and nods. Afraid to speak. Instead, he grabs their dishes and deposits them in the sink. He leans his weight on the edge, knuckles white with the grip. Inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly, he turns to face Castiel.
“There’s a blue moon tonight,” he states without preamble. That gets him precisely the response he expected. Castiel tilts his head, frowning and squinting like he’s trying to see right into Dean’s brain. “How long has it been since you’ve been to that field just beyond the treeline behind this place?”
“What?”
Dean revels in Castiel’s confusion. “Come on, I’ve got an idea.”
The walk isn’t long. Dean knows a shortcut through the garage.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever been out here, Dean.”
“Huh, well, I spent a lot of time out here when you were away.”
“When I was in Florida?”
“Uh-huh, and maybe other times, too.” The soft look Castiel gives him makes him blush and fidget with the bundle in his arms; thank god it’s dark out here.
Dean stops in the grassy field and shakes out the old army blanket, laying it on the ground and dropping the other one on the edge in case it gets too cold, or Cas gets cold. He sits on the left side and pats the spot next to him.
Castiel looks confused or maybe concerned, but he sits beside Dean and glances around the area. The moon is bright enough to cast a silver glow over everything.
“This is nice.”
“Look up, Cas.”
Castiel gasps. The moon is full and huge, and they are far enough away from civilization that the stars are plentiful.
Dean lays back, pulling Cas to lie down beside him. “Great, huh?”
“I see why you like this place.”
“I came out here sometimes to be alone. At first, I’d bring a bottle and try to get out of my head, usually stumbling back to the bunker once the sun came up. Then I left the booze behind and just… It was so quiet. I could really think. Ya know, I thought a lot about those same things you brought up earlier. What a shit friend I’ve been to you. Every time you left, I figured you’d never come back. You deserve someone who will treat you better. I’m no good, Cas.”
Dean can’t look at Castiel and focuses intently on the big, blurry moon.
It’s quiet for a while. Dean knows Cas hasn’t left because he can still feel his arm pressed against his, and Cas’ foot taps the side of his boot. The tap, tap, tap draws him out of his reverie. He dares a peek at Castiel. Castiel is smiling, that small, lopsided one that means he’s pleased with himself. What’s happening right now? Dean raises his eyebrows in question. Castiel’s smile grows, and now Dean’s confused.
With a sigh, Castiel raises his head, twisting to lean on his elbow. His free hand fiddles with the blanket until it comes to rest on Dean’s chest.
“The fact that you gave so much thought to my absence means something, Dean. It proves what I’ve known all along. You really do care. Under all that bravado and flannel, you are the man who belongs to the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen. You have spent your life trying to be something you aren’t.”
“Wha-”
“Hang on,” Castiel’s fingers graze Dean’s lips, stopping any thought of interrupting. “Let me say this.” Dean nods.
“Hidden behind the brutish hunter is the most thoughtful, supportive, giving, loving man anyone could ever hope to get the slightest glimpse of. I’ve seen that side of you more than most. You even hide that part of yourself from Sam.”
“Cas, I- I don’t, I can’t…”
“Dean, will you teach me to be the kind of human I see in you?”
All the tension that had built up as Dean tried to rebuild the walls Cas was tearing down with his words dissolved. He felt everything all at once. Blinking back, most of the tears stinging his eyes, Dean nodded.
“Yeah, Cas.” Rising, he met Cas and embraced him. “I think I may have a lot more to learn from you than I could ever teach you.”
Castiel chuckled into his shoulder. “Maybe, but I look forward to our exchange of knowledge.”
“Dork.” Dean laughs and shoves Castiel, causing him to fall back onto the blanket. “Chick-flick moment, over. Tomorrow, we start your education at Cold Stone. You have to taste their handmade ice cream.”
“That sounds like a perfect place to start.” Castiel smiles, folding his arms behind his head to watch the night sky.
“Yeah, buddy. We’ve got work to do.”