it's funny how much more blatantly ROMANTIC Dean and Cas' relationship gets when you compare it to the relationship between Cas and Sam.
Just this simple comparison that highlights the stark difference between these two bonds makes one go: oh...
Because Cas and Sam are FRIENDS. And they are FAMILY. BROTHERS even. And yet...
Can you imagine Castiel being brainwashed into killing THOUSANDS of Sams???
Or Sam fishing Castiel's bloody trenchcoat out of the river and carrying it with him from car to car??????
Or Sam on his knees looking Cas deeeply in the eyes while whispering I NEED YOU and breaking Cas' brainwashing???
Or Sam staying a year in Purgatory FOR Cas and praying to him EVERY NIGHT????
Or Sam gifting Cas a MIXTAPE with the songs from his favourite band his parents fell in love to????
Or Sam on his knees by Castiel's dead body, all speechless, shattered, broken????
Or Sam preparing Castiel's body for the Hunter's Funeral alone???
Or Sam on his knees, sobbing, and praying to Cas for forgiveness????
Can you imagine all that????? No, no you can't.
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Just imagine for me, if you will:
Cas has made his deal with the empty— a moment of true happiness and the empty will strike. He knows this, he’s known this since the deal was made, obviously. More importantly, he knows what it is that will give him true happiness, and it’s the man standing across from him staring at him with terrified green eyes. He knows what he must do, how he must save Dean. It isn’t how he planned to confess, but—
But—
But wait, Dean is talking. Why is Dean talking?
“Cas,” Dean is choking out, his voice unstable. “Fuck, Cas, this isn’t—“
“Dean—“ Cas glances at the door. They don’t have time for this, but Cas knows that this very possibly is the last thing he’ll ever hear Dean say. And Dean looks urgent, practically begging Cas to listen with the intensity of his gaze.
So Cas relents, just for a moment. He meets Dean’s gaze and it’s enough encouragement for Dean to continue.
“This isn’t how I planned to tell you— if I planned to tell you at all. Fuck, Cas, I always swear that I’m going to tell you next time. But we’re running out of next times, man, and I just— I can’t keep it in— I need to—“ Dean’s eyes are wild as he glances between Cas and every corner of the room, completely aware of the intensity of the situation and the weight of the words he’s trying to say.
“Dean,” Cas says just as urgently, stepping forward to draw Dean’s gaze to him. “Tell me what?”
Dean meets his eyes and for one single moment, the world slows to a stop around them. Cas can see the answer to that question in Dean’s eyes a moment before he says it out loud. He forgets, for just that second, that they’re standing on the precipice of death, that they don’t have the luxury of indulging in this. For just that second, Cas lets himself let out the breath he’s been holding for ten years.
“I love you.” Dean breathes, and he looks like he could sag in relief from finally speaking the words. “I love you so goddamn much and I have for so goddamn long and I couldn’t let either one of us die again without making sure you knew that.”
And oh, oh, Cas has never felt something like this— this blooming, all-consuming warmth. He’s never felt something so tangible unfurl in his chest, spreading out and filling up every corner of his being.
Cas has loved Dean for nearly every second they have known each other and now he knows that Dean loves him, too. That Dean wants him to know— needs him to know that he’s loved, no matter what happens.
Cas opens his mouth to respond—
And he sees the black bubbling along the wall behind Dean.
He should have known.
But how could he know that Dean would love him back? How could he anticipate that Dean would say the words to him that he had rarely said to anyone, in any capacity, in his entire life? Of course he knew Dean had the potential to be his ultimate happiness— or rather that his ultimate happiness was wrapped up in Dean in one way or another. Of course he knew this because everything he did, everything he wanted, everything he cared for or longed for— everything, all of it revolved around Dean.
But still, he never thought that Dean would say it first.
“Dean, I—“ Cas needs to say it back, is desperate to say it back, but the empty is headed directly to him and Dean is in its path.
Cas can’t think, can’t bear the idea of risking Dean for anything. He acts, shoving Dean out of the way as he empty sputters and gurgles, wrapping around him.
“Cas!” His name wrenches out of Dean’s throat in a way that’s painful to hear. Cas hates that it’s the last thing he’ll ever hear in Dean’s voice, hates that it has to be his final memory of the man who gave him everything.
The man who taught him to love, who gave him a place to belong. The man who helped him clean up his messes, who treated him as equal instead of other. The man who became the center of everything in Cas’s universe— every single thing that Cas cared about or was interested in stemmed from the same root named Dean Winchester and now Cas was leaving him behind.
I love you, too! He tries to shout as the empty drags him away. His last conscious thought is a desperate, unbridled hope that against all odds, Dean was able to hear him.
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i don’t think dean loving cas/sam is an either/or. i think he loved them both.
cas falling in love with the righteous man who is in love with own brother, and realizing it didn’t mar his soul at all. dean was perfect, and half of his soul was sam’s. cas falling not only because he loved dean, but because the abomination, the boy king, was gentle and selfless and believed that angels could be good. he couldn’t love dean without loving sam because he held dean’s soul in his hands and it was damaged from torture but even before that, from being ripped away from his soulmate.
cas forgetting that humans couldn’t see the things he saw, they couldn’t tell just by looking at those two how close they were. their souls only looked right when they were pressed against each other; that was when the tangle of colours made sense, bleeding into the other like a breathing work of art.
cas protecting them both from harm because nothing is more precious than love and devotion and family and the winchesters represent it in every possible way.
cas was the only one they trusted to take care of their brother, and that trust was more like love than anything cas could imagine. and he understood why they’re like that, because it’s intoxicating, to be looked at with so much emotion it burns like hellfire, holy oil, agony.
cas loved the winchesters, and they loved him back. not as much as they loved each other, but he would never expect them to.
because dean winchester owned very few things, and even fewer of them loved him back. because there were only two living beings known as his: brother, and angel. dean called cas his brother, and cas could tell that was a higher honour than marriage, and that’s when he knew he was a winchester.
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still thinking about aro!dean btw. thinking about that passage in john’s journal where he laments that at dean’s age, he had a wife and kids while dean is a hunter. and like. do you think john ever told him that? i imagine he did, set the scene, he’s drunk and dean has been pulling his boots off before bed since he was seven years old and now he’s in his twenties, still that boy taking care of his father, and john is apologizing for once. for how dean didn’t get the chance for what he had (except even now, all this mourning is framed around dean, but it’s not about dean, it’s about john, what he lost and can’t get back) and dean is listening to his father tell him he should’ve had a wife, should’ve had kids, should’ve had a house and the whole nine yards.
because more than the rest of the world telling dean what he should have, should want, his father crying to him that he ruined it all is gonna dig it’s claws into his head the most.
maybe john doesn’t even remember it in the morning. dean does.
so now that hangs over him, too. every feeling of ‘this isn’t quite right, isn’t what I’m comfortable with’ has to contend with the knowledge that his dad felt guilt he couldn’t have it. (compound that with sam’s request at the end of s5, and of course he ends up on lisa’s doorstep. it’s what they thought he wanted, so they told him to take it once he was free, but in doing so, culled his freedom down to a backyard and a shared bed with someone he barely knows and tries to love the way he should.)
and most importantly of all, obviously, I’m thinking about dean getting older. about how the weight of his father never really falls off, but he gets better at carrying it. and he can say to himself, he’s long past the point where he should’ve gotten all that stuff in order anyway. might as well work with what he’s got. (while what he’s got makes him happier than the life john imagined he stole ever could have.) new freedom that comes with aging out of expectation, in a way. a space to build his own life. and so one day, when dean the age john was when he wrote about it in his journal, he’s doesn’t feel like he missed out on anything at all.
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Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.
It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.
It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.
He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.
Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.
So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.
It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”
Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long.
Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.”
The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”
It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.
Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.
"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.
Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.
"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.
"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.
He turns the keys. He drives them home.
Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).
Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.
It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"
Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."
"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."
"You didn't correct her?"
"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.
"Uh huh."
"It felt trivial."
"To tell her we're not married?"
"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.
Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."
"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.
Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.
"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"
Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"
Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."
Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."
Across the table, Cas grins at him.
"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.
"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."
"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."
They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.
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