11.06 - Our Little World

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I can't keep track of ep titles; ugh. Apologies to anyone who saw this before I properly named it. 

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When Sam didn't come back to the war room, Dean figured he'd fixed himself something to eat and gone to bed, so he muted the day with a drink. Burned off the touch of Crowley's place with each tip of his glass. Cas refused to partake, but he sat across from Dean and watched him through bleary eyes.

"So." Dean poured himself seconds and set the bottle on the table with a clink. He settled back in the chair and propped his feet up. "The Darkness is youraunt?"

Cas rubbed at a frown. "I suppose, in a manner of speaking."

Chuckling, Dean swirled the whiskey in his mouth. "Man, does your family have a thing for sibling rivalry." He grinned at Cas, who ducked his head.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said.

"Yeah, me too." Dean drummed his fingers on the table and assumed the heart-to-heart was over until Cas cleared his throat.

"Dean, I want you to answer me honestly."

"Shoot."

"Am I a tool to you? Am I...something you use?"

"What's got you talking like this?"

"Nothing." Cas rubbed his face with both hands. "Nevermind."

"No," Dean said. He shook his head and threw back what was left in his glass. He didn't pour another but folded his hands on the table. "I think we're overdue to catch up."

"Fine." Cas's voice was strained. He glanced in the direction where Sam had gone and shook his head. "Not in here."

#

They went to Dean's room. The minute he got the door open, he knew that Cas had been in here while he was away: the framed picture on his nightstand stood at the wrong angle. Bunched-up pillow he must've borrowed. A sweatshirt peeked out of a partially closed drawer. Dean closed it, lingering next to his dresser with a hand on top, his back to Cas. He hardly felt the whiskey, but it had left a bitter aftertaste on the back of his tongue. Cas spoke first.

"You once said that nobody cared if I was broken."

"Man, don't listen to the crap I say. I'm an asshole." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a breath. "Why're you even thinking about that?"

"Metatron said some things tonight. They reminded me of it."

"Cas-"

"Do you only keep me around because I'm an angel?"

Dean swallowed hard. He took off his jacket with a shrug and forced himself to turn around. "At first." he said.

Cas sank onto the edge of the bed and looked at the floor. "What about now?"

"Now? Truth is, Cas, I didn't even want you out there today."

"Because you don't trust me."

"Because I didn't think you were ready. You think I wanted you to leave this place?"

"But you called me. You said-"

"I know what I said, but sometimes there's a difference between what I want to happen and what needs to happen. Doesn't mean I don't care about you, man." Dean sniffed and sat down next to him, grunting at pain in his spine and hip, the back of his head. Cas sighed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"You spent the day watching trash TV and you ask how I'm feeling?"

Cas laughed softly, a little sadly, and put a warm hand to Dean's cheek-not two fingers, but his entire hand, palm gently cupping Dean's jaw, and the other coming up to cradle his face. Dean waited, expecting the usual odd sensation of Cas's grace penetrating his skin, winding in like tendrils, but Cas just looked at him for a while-not quite human, not quite angel, either. Dean held very still.

"I don't forgive myself for what I did to you. I can't stop thinking about it," Cas said.

"We've both done a lot of stuff we regret."

Cas gave a slow nod. "Do you remember when I came into possession of the angel tablet?"

"Crystal clear."

"You asked me what broke the connection between Naomi and me."

"And you said you didn't know."

Cas's answering smile was small. He brushed a thumb across Dean's cheekbone in a motion that was tender, loving, and in a second, Cas confirmed what Dean had guessed for years.

"We could keep ignoring this," Cas whispered, but Dean shook his head and relaxed into Cas's hands. His face burned; he hadn't had butterflies like this since he was a kid.

"Nah," he said, leaning forward, eyes fluttering closed, lost in his first taste of Cas's mouth and the heat in his eyes, in his stomach - he was ready. He threaded both hands in Cas's hair and didn't let go.



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