There's A Word For It In Enochian
Cas looks stunned, not just surprised but as though he's plugged his finger into a socket. His eyes are wide and watery. His phone is slipping out of his grip. Dean can hear Sam's tinny voice on the other side. He tugs the phone gently from Cas's grip.
"Dean? Dean I'm in a house I don't recognize. Chelsea's here. I can't hear Cas and I… I can't tell if this real." He sounds frustrated and terrified.
"You're okay. Gabriel zapped you over there. You know it's me right?"
"Hand the phone to Chelsea."
"Hey, Dean." She yawns, utterly blasé about finding a confused hallucination sufferer who had been Angelically transported to her house. "What's the weird word, sweetheart?"
Dean tells her that Gabriel zapped Cas back when he zapped Sam to her place.
"Kay. I'll make up the couch for him."
That is the thing Dean does sort of hate about Chelsea. She says things like that and there is nothing that makes it necessary to put off talking to Cas. She's taking care of Sam and now he and Cas have the house to themselves. And she realizes it when she does it and she does it on purpose. Which Dean can tell from the ever so slightly snarky, "Here's your brother back."
Dean assures Sam it's all real and they hang up.
Cas still looks like someone put him on pause and doesn't really register Dean until Dean sits down on the coffee table in front of him.
"So… life long ambition realized," Dean starts. "Punched God right in the face. Gonna make it that much harder not to punch Chuck when I see him now."
Cas still looks overwhelmed and he jumps when Dean sets his hand over the ex-Angel's knee.
"You okay?" Dean asks.
Cas shakes his head. "I thought… I thought I was forsaken. I thought… God was gone. And he was in the prophet. I spoke with him. Or… he heard me at least. I stood next to him… and he never…"
"Yeah. I think I kind of get it."
Cas just stares, awaiting an explanation.
"Sammy said something to me that made me realize… I thought my Dad was there, but he wasn't there. Not for us. Just for his… crap. Makes you feel like your life's a little… wasted, doesn't it?"
Cas shakes his head again. "No. No. I was favored. I was… humanity was supposed to be a gift. To me. A life… A heaven. You… you and I were… um… blessed, God said."
"Blessed?" Dean resists the urge to snort. Right now is hardly the time.
"Umm… it's… he told me that we were favored. Fated… really. For a… it's hard to explain. There's not a good translation in English, there's a word for it in Enochian. It's archaic though, an old idea. A… sacred… um… love. A pure, simple bond."
Dean shivers a little at that. God hadn't been that sincere with him about what had been intended for him and Cas..
Cas wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Or it's supposed to be."
"Yeah," Dean says gently, rubbing his hand over Cas's knee. Cas jolts as though to pull away and Dean stops moving but doesn't pull his hands away. "We've been really screwing up simple, haven't we?"
Cas wipes his eye again and sets the slightly wet hand over Dean's.
"I did something wrong," Cas says quietly.
Dean glances over Cas. The guilty look. The pajamas that he doesn't own. His mussed hair, pulling out of its braid. He's got a pretty good idea of what's coming and it already hurts, but he braces himself for it. Until about half an hour ago he felt like he deserved it. He isn't so sure now, but he doesn't move his hand.
"I called Tony. I was so mad at you and everyone's been trying to explain to me why you don't want to be with me because I'm… male on a technicality, and I didn't understand and I thought he might… and it was just so much easier."
"Okay," Dean responds quietly.
"We had a nice conversation. He held my hand and when someone was rude to us he told them that we were together and I just… I don't know why it was important to me."
"Because I wouldn't have done it for you," Dean says. It's true. He's still sure there's a next step though.
"No. You wouldn't," Cas says. "I'm not even sure why it was so important. I felt… you didn't…"– Cas clenches his eyes shut before he opens them again–"He invited me back to his house. And I didn't want to be here. He got me a glass of wine, and he kissed me."
That hurts more than Dean thought it would. Then Cas keeps going and Dean feels a little bit like his chest is caving in.
"And we went to his room and I let him start to undress me," Cas tries to pull his hand away and Dean doesn't let him. "I… didn't stop him until he started to undo my fly. And then I told him that I didn't think I should… because I wasn't sure what was happening with you."
"And then he gave me these pajamas and told me I could sleep on the couch. I was uncomfortable. I was going to call Chelsea when Sam called, and that's when Gabriel brought me here."
"Okay," Dean says again. He'd never thought about it before. He'd never been with someone the way he was with Cas. This kind of feeling in his gut wouldn't have cropped up when all he had was one night stands. He can feel a little bit of an angry burn starting up under the hurt, but it goes out suddenly when Cas clears his throat and says, over an obvious tearful pull in his voice, "That's called cheating, right?"
Dean turns his hand up into Cas's and grips it gently. "I don't know," He says. "I mean… I wouldn't tell anyone about what we're doing."
"I didn't even give you a chance to tell Sam," Cas says. "Dean, I'm so sorry, I'm so-"
Dean turns his hand up to Cas's. "Don't be."
Cas tightens his grip around Dean's hand and finally leans forward a little before he looks up at him. "But I-"
"No," Dean says. "Don't feel bad. Look," – he steels himself for the admission he's about to make. He was just going to let the fact that he nearly left disappear into history. Cas doesn't deserve to be hurt with a pointless admission, but he also didn't deserve to flog himself for a first offence when Dean had done something just as bad and a couple things on top of that. It feels a little manipulative to use this to even the score, but he's doing it to help. He wants this, wants the little apple pie life they've been setting up, wants Cas, and he's starting to feel like he can have him.
"The morning Sam came back?" he starts. "The morning after we… I was freaked. I was… afraid. I didn't think I could deal with what was going on. So I grabbed my duffle from under the bed, and my keys, and I was leaving to go back to Hunting when Sam got…delivered unto the living room."
Cas's hand shivers in his own. Dean finally looks up at him.
"Oh," he responds after a few moments. The sinking feeling in Dean's chest gets even worse.
"I was coming back, Cas, I swear. I would've gotten to a motel, realized what I'd done and I would have come back. Like you, you stopped what you were doing with Tony. That guilt, that same guilt, that's what I would have felt. I would have stayed in some shitty flophouse and been home in time for lunch."
"You… wouldn't have gotten very far," Cas says. "I made Bobby help me activate the GPS in your phone after you disappeared last time to summon Gabriel. I would have caught up to you by dinner."
Dean smiles a little at that. It's so… kind of creepy and suffocating. But in a weirdly okay way. He likes that Cas would have caught him for screwing up that badly.
"Still," he shrugs. "Forgive me?"
"Yes. I do," Cas says. "And me?"
"Yes," Dean replies.
They sit in silence for a moment, just holding hands until Cas scoots a little closer.
"This bond we were supposed to have… is supposed to be stronger than this," Cas moves again so that they're knees are touching. "I feel… a little as though we've… failed. Like we were given something beautiful and smashed it."
Dean nods. "You said it's an Enochian word?"
Cas just shrugs.
"So it's like an unfeeling, Angelic type thing. Predetermined too, I'll bet."
"Cas… we're human." Dean picks up his other hand and holds both of them between his own, hands folded around Cas's like he's praying. "And sometimes, we screw things up. "
"So… you're not mad?"
Dean sighs. "I am… but I just don't want to be. What if we just… agree? You didn't go home with Tony and I just told Sam like you asked me to and never tried to run."
Cas shrugs. "Pick one. You can't have both."
"I never tried to run," Dean says, soft, but immediate.
Cas smiles and sniffs. Dean leans forward and kisses him. A sudden sense of relief floods his body. He opens the kiss and Cas pulls back with a soft noise of dissent. "You taste like whiskey."
Dean drops his head for a moment, and moves onto the couch next to Cas.
"Yes. I do," Dean says. He reaches behind Cas and grabs the flask he'd just tossed Sam. He hands it to Cas who looks at it long enough that Dean starts to worry.
"We're going to talk about this in the morning," Cas says. He unscrews the top, takes a deep pull and hands it to Dean. "Say goodbye."
Dean nods, finishes the rest of the flask before dropping it behind the couch and pulling Cas forward. He kisses him and scoots down the pillows, letting his knees fall apart so Cas can settle on top of him.
It's easier the second time around, fresh off Sam's acceptance, the blessing of God himself, and the fear of losing Cas to some skinny fucker with ugly glasses. The weight of Cas on top of him feels good, the narrowness of the couch forces them closer together. The feeling of needing to look over his own shoulder is gone, and somehow he can even ignore the much more real feeling that there are a bunch of Supernatural beings (well, at least two) out there who are probably actually watching. He can smell Tony's cologne on Cas's body and rather than put him off it urges him on just a little bit, kind of a harsh reminder that he could still lose Cas. They're being guided together, but not forced. They weren't just shot with cupid's arrow and crossed off the list. Despite all the divine planning, he could possibly still free will his way out of this if he isn't careful.
Their breathing gets heavy as their shirts come off. Dean rolls his hips up into Cas's, letting himself enjoy the way Cas murmurs nonsense when Dean runs his palms up and down his back, the way Cas starts to shiver against him when Dean reaches between them and undoes the ex-Angels fly.
They toss off their clothes, Dean pulls the afghan hanging over the back of the couch over them. Cas sets his palm to Dean's cheek and curls his fingers into the hair at the nape of Dean's nick as he kisses him and rocks down into him. Dean moans and pulls Cas tighter, digging his fingers into the grooves under his shoulder blades. Cas cries out and shoots all over him. Dean can feel it hot and wet all over his stomach. Dean reaches between their bodies to finish himself off, but Cas won't move his hips to let Dean's hand in.
Cas pants out a few steadying breaths, harsh in the utter silence of the empty house, and keeps going, hands still around Dean's face as he moves against him until Dean comes too, his hands in Cas's hair.
Cas drops down to Dean's chest. There's a little noise- like a party squaker, and a little burst of confetti rains down on them.
"Fucking Gabriel," Cas huffs.
They wake up hours later, just as light starts to creep up at the edge of the horizon, stiff from their ridiculous sleeping position, pervy angelic confetti still in their hair, and go up to their room.