Hey Jude

Dean had met Cas on the job, fixing up the blue-eyed man's car, which was an old 1978 Lincoln Continental. It needed a good bit of work, Cas had bought it for cheap, with rust and multiple other problems, but Dean didn't mind too much. He liked a challenge, and old cars, he definitely preferred. 

Cas would hang around the small shop while Dean worked around the end of Dean's work hours, asking curious questions about what Dean was doing with the car, and eventually about Dean's job and life. Dean didn't mind. It was nice to talk to someone who was genuinely interested in his work, even though they didn't work with cars themselves. He and Cas would talk about their siblings with good-natured annoyance but skirted around the subject of their parents. 

Eventually, Dean asked Cas out for a drink after work. Not as a date, he thought, "totally a date" his brain had interrupted, quite unwelcome.

After more meetings outside of work, he and Cas started getting closer, and Dean couldn't make sense of his feelings. But he couldn't walk away either. He and Cas would bicker, a playfully sarcastic push and pull that left Dean confused. 

After one late meeting in town, a storm rose on the horizon. Dean had picked up Cas from the shop in his own Baby, as was their routine. The cracking radio predicted hail, and Cas refused to let Dean drive to the home that he shared with Sam, which was on the far outskirts of town, insisting they head to Cas's home instead, which was far closer. He met little protest since Dean was wary of the hail just the same. 

Dean followed Cas's directions to the large house, which rose against the dimming sky with elegance in its cream shades and Romanesque pillars. 

After parking Dean's beloved Impala in the garage, they headed inside. All the little details he'd noticed about Cas made sense. How despite the casual appearance that Cas worked on, Cas's outfits were a much better quality than Dean's, and the way Cas moved, which spoke of an accustomed air of confidence in the nicer restaurants in town, whereas Dean would bullshit his way through the same things. 

The moments Cas was confused by the street slang Dean grew up with, even though it was pretty commonly used. It all clicked. Yet somehow, Dean couldn't find it in him to really mind, that is, until he found himself, in his beat-up jeans and flannel, standing barefoot in a hallway furnished in creams and gold, after having to take his boots off at the back door mudroom.

In that moment, he found himself uncharacteristically floundering for something he knew, and he found himself throwing half-hearted sarcastic barbs about the over excessive use of off-white in the house and speculating its cost. 

The discomfort was something alien to him around Cas, as he was normally confident as well as comfortable around the dark-haired man. But Cas merely tilted his head, and led him to the kitchen, pulling out food as he explained the living situation with his siblings to Dean. They wouldn't mind, he said, if Dean stayed a while. There was plenty of room. 

When it was clear that the storm wasn't going to let up, they'd stopped at Cas's room as he pulled out some spare sleepwear for Dean, as well as an unused travel packet of toiletries before Cas dropped him off at the guest room, a few doors down and to the right. 

___________________________________________

Now, with the sun shining through white curtains, Dean shifted his head in his arms as he woke, eye blinking open half-heartedly before swinging his legs over the side of the be. Swiping a hand over his face, Dean looked around.  He half-stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face before brushing his teeth. 

With a sigh, he opened the door to the hallway, intending on finding something to eat, bare feet shuffling towards the kitchen when he stopped dead in his tracks. A whisper of a sound, teasing at the edge of his hearing. 

Was it...music? Following the melody, bare feet padding quietly on cool tile, he walked as the sounds of a piano became clearer. 

He paused next to an open door before stepping in. At the seat of an ebony grand piano, sat Cas, long fingers dancing steadily over the keys in a rhythm Dean wouldn't ever dare to try to imitate. Back turned to Dean, Cas was wearing a comfortable white button-down shirt, which paired with his black hair, made it seem like he could have was stepped out of a black and white movie. 

Belatedly, Dean realized the tune. It was a classical arrangement of "Hey Jude", soft and delicate. It was a song that Cas had assured Dean that he didn't know well, but after Dean had pulled his most offended look (and just maybe a bit of a pout), Cas had promised to listen to it. 

Eyes nearly shining with memories, memories of that song hummed as a lullaby before his mom's sudden death, Dean walked slightly unsteadily over to Cas, now able to see the hand-written sheet music in front of the keys. 

Cas's hands slowed, softly pressing out the bridge to the song, even as his slight glance to Dean showed he was aware of the other man's presence. After flipping a page, and playing the final chorus Cas's hands stilled on the keys, before he turned to fully face Dean, smiling. His head tilted in that infuriatingly endearing way of his as blue eyes met green momentarily before a slight frown appeared on his brow. 

Cas, for all his awkwardness in some areas, was remarkably perceptive now.

"Dean... what's wrong? I thought you liked that song." 

Abruptly realizing that his own face was tense in refusal to show the emotions threatening to make an appearance, Dean attempted a smirk. He hadn't told Cas why he was so fond of the song. His lips quirked into a half smile, as he looked into those damned blue eyes.

"Nothing Cas, it's -what you did-it's good." He cleared his throat. "Just memories." 

Cas narrowed his eyes before moving to stand before Dean, who chuckled and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair as he thought about everything that had happened in his life since meeting Cas. His eyes averted to the ground for a moment, studying the tiles.

"Just-" Dean let out a breath as he spoke, looking directly at Cas,"-don't ever change, alright?" Now thoroughly confused, Cas nodded, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure Dean's odd attitude out. 

Dean smiles in earnest now, an open grin that speaks of mischievousness, slinging an arm over Cas' shoulders.

"Great! Now, let's round up some food, I'm starving." 

And that was it. Dean didn't speak of it until much later, but it was that moment he realized that maybe, just maybe, he and Cas might be something, together.

~The End~
A/N
This is what happens when I see pictures like this:

Annnnddd plot bunnies go running off in my head.