Dean wasn't exactly shocked when he realised he loved Cas.
It wasn't one of those sappy 'standing in the rain and pouring my heart out' kind of things, nor was it a 'contentment = commitment' moment. It was just something that happened.
They had been sprawled on a lumpy motel mattress, absently staring at the tiny television that neither was really watching. Dean was reclined against the headboard, legs flung out in front of him, one arm around Cas, who was curled beside him. Shins against the side of Dean's leg, head on his chest, hand on his sternum. Dean could feel Cas' warm exhales through his thin cotton shirt. It was nice.
After about ten minutes, Dean realised Cas was tapping his index finger feather-light against his breastbone. Dean looked down, wondering if there was a stain or hole or something in his shirt, but there wasn't. He moved his gaze to Cas's face, but all he could see was the soft fan of Cas' dark eyelashes. Dean waited a while, but Cas didn't say anything, or stop. The tapping continued, and Dean, because he was Dean, started to wonder if it was some sort of angel seduction ritual.
He wouldn't really mind if it was. He muted the crappy Christmas soap he had been secretly enjoying.
"Uh, Cas?"
A quiet hum of inquiry was the only reply he got.
"What are you doing?"
Cas exhaled deeply, and Dean couldn't help but shift happily as the warm gust of air wafted over his chest.
"I'm listening, Dean."
Dean was silent. Cas was silent. The room was silent but for the hushed tup-tup of Cas' fingers against the cotton covering Dean's sternum. Dean wasn't a stupid man, but it was an angel wrapped around him, so he figured it was probably worth asking.
"Listening to what?"
"You."
Dean made a confused noise in the back of his throat. He felt, rather than saw, Cas smile. The tapping continued as Cas began to speak.
"You were not whole when I found you, Dean. Are you aware of that? When I found you, I found the essence of you, your soul, rather than a physical entity. I found the embers of the person you used to be, only glowing dimly, but still enough to rekindle a fire. You were not flesh, or blood, skin or bone. You were a wisp of soul in the darkest pits of hell. So I took you up, held you in my hand, and took you away from that place.
However, it was not as simple as just putting you back in your body. It was destroyed, ripped and decaying. Thus, I had to recreate you. I had to remake you from the smallest of your toes to the print of your finger to each hair follicle on your head. I had to fashion you a new body, and I was all but done until I noticed I had unknowingly left the most important piece until last."
Cas lifted his head to place a tender kiss to Dean's chest, right above his heart.
"This.
I had to create each chamber, each vein, each slip of muscle. I took quite a bit of time on it, actually. Far longer than any other part of you. You see, I was trying to fix it, as well. I was trying to tie forgiveness into each vessel of blood. I attempted to embed happiness into each angel vein that ran through it. I wanted to put hope into one chamber, love, self-worth and joy into each of the others. I wanted to create an organ that would fill you with the peace that you so craved, the serenity that you unconsciously begged for.
I wanted to heal you, but I couldn't. Not like that.
Those things are not qualities that can be slipped between muscles or added to blood. It is something that must be given and accepted in turn. Thus, I endeavored to give you those things once you had been returned to your place here. I wanted to prove to you that you were more than worth saving. It didn't take long for me to realize that I wanted you to do the same for me. I wanted to love you, but I wanted you to care for me too.
Fortunately enough, you did."
Cas sighed contentedly, and finally looked at Dean, eyes the colour of sky and ocean shining warmly.
"So I'm listening, Dean. I'm listening to your peace, your happiness, your freedom. I'm listening to my love in your chest, and it is quite a beautiful sound."
Dean was completely still for a moment, while Cas just smiled serenely up at him. Dean felt like driftwood in the open ocean; light and insignificant, but completely content to be swept away with the tide. Because Cas had tried to fix him, try to make him work properly, and when he couldn't do it one way, he had just tried again. Cas had done it for Dean. Cas had come back for Dean. Cas loved Dean.
Dean's arm tightened around Cas' waist and he planted a heartfelt kiss to his forehead.
"Oops," Dean murmured into Cas' hairline, "I think you just made me fall in love with you."
And he had.
