dean realizes he’s in love with cas on an ordinary night — ordinary for him.
he and cas are working together on a hunt, a run-of-the-mill vampire nest in a barn, but there ends up being more than they expected.
cas’ blade gets knocked out of his hand, just as a big vamp overpowers dean and throws him hard into a wall. his shotgun goes flying across the floor, towards cas, and dean crumples to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, gasping for air.
“cas,” he manages to gasp out, chest heaving.
cas is cornered, looking at dean in a panic as the big vamp stalks towards him. he makes a quick decision: he dodges and rolls to the side, and comes up on one knee, holding dean’s shotgun. he lines it up and fires on the vamp near dean, just like dean taught him, blows its head off, reloads, swivels, fires on the one he was fighting, reloads, stands, keeps firing, advances and takes out the last few, shells bouncing around him.
dean watches this from the floor as if it unfolds in slow motion. cas taking out monsters with style and grace, holding dean’s gun, blue eyes glinting with determination, his white button-up spattered with blood (he left the trenchcoat in the car at dean’s urging), one sleeve ripped open where a vamp grabbed at him, showing his tan and muscled upper arm. propped up on his elbows, chest heaving, dean watches cas turn towards him, brow furrowed with concern because he is worried about dean, because he thinks about dean, because he cares about dean.
and suddenly, finally, it clicks.
“dean, are you all right?” cas asks in that deep voice, rushing to his side, concern furrowing his brow.
dean gazes up at him, as the rays of moonlight that leak through cracks in the barn ceiling illuminate cas’ head like a halo.
“oh,” he says.
it only makes sense that it was a thursday.
