The interior of the Impala was quiet, drowned out only by the silence of the snow falling softly outside. Dean gripped Cas’s hand in his own and stared outside the fogged up window at his parents’ house, wondering if asking Cas to family dinner had been a stupid move. When Cas tugged on his hand, he turned around to face him blindly, and only then did he realize that tears of stress had made it to his eyes.
"Hey," Cas said softly, pulling him in close and kissing his forehead. "Hey, no, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, Dean." Dean fisted his hands in the lapels of Cas’s coat, clinging desperately, and Cas’s hands went to his shoulders, settling soothingly, grounding him.
"I was going to wait until after dinner, but I want you to have this now," Cas murmured after a few moments, his fingers stroking Dean’s hair while he reached into his coat pocket with his other hand. He pulled out a small box wrapped in brown paper, and Dean took it hesitantly, his eyes meeting his boyfriend’s questioningly.
They’d been together two months now, two months of happiness and laughter and waking up next to each other in the morning. Sure, they’d had their arguments, their insecurities, their pet peeves. But every night, when they curled up in bed together, the warmth of their bodies and the soft whispers of their voices overcame the hurdles.
They’d gotten through one such hurdle the week before- talking to Cas’s parents. It hadn’t been a hurdle so much as a very easy hoop to step through (the effort of a jump hadn’t even been necessary). Cas had invited his parents and two siblings over for dinner, and no one had blinked when he’d tentatively introduced Dean as his boyfriend at the door.
Dean had raised his eyebrows at Cas’s confusion, but Anna had pulled Dean to the kitchen, asking him what smelled so good because “my son can’t cook for the life of him so it’s either you or some really wonderful takeout.” He’d followed her into the kitchen, grinning widely back at Cas, who’d been hanging up his father’s coat and listening to him explain that “God is utterly indifferent to sexual orientation, so I don’t see why we’d be otherwise. Close your mouth, Castiel, your jaw is practically on the floor and that look is unattractive on you.”
Gabriel had made snide remarks throughout dinner, ranging from comments about Dean’s age to Dean’s ass. Chuck had grumbled while Anna had swatted her son over the head in response to each comment, but Charlie had simply rolled her eyes and continued talking to Dean about university (she was sixteen and ready to decide which college she wanted to attend).
It hadn’t been unpleasant- far from it, in fact. But Dean wasn’t so sure the dinner with Sam and his parents would go quite as smoothly.
"Cas," he said past the lump of nerves in his throat. "Maybe we shouldn’t do this, maybe we should just leave and I’ll tell my parents I got caught in the snow or-"
Cas interrupted him by placing two fingers on his lips. Dean immediately quieted, and Cas pressed his lips to his forehead again, staying there, breathing easily, rhythmically, and waiting for Dean’s breathing pattern to calm and match his own.
"It’s going to be okay," Cas said quietly, and Dean nodded, burying his head in Cas’s neck, gripping his waist tightly with one hand and holding onto the box with the other.
"Cas, I'm sor-" Dean started, intending to apologize for being a chicken, for being a coward about who he truly was when Castiel had faced it bravely the week before. But Cas shook his head and wrapped his hand around the hand that held the box.
"Open it," he said softly. Dean met his gaze, saw the intensity along with the nerves, and nodded. He kissed him gently, then pulled back and carefully undid the wrapping paper. When he finally opened the box, he stared in shock.
Inside was a small glass vial, hanging on a brand new braided leather cord. The vial shone, its inside filled with a semi-transparent liquid that looked part white gold and part liquid glass.
"Cas, this is beautiful, but-" Dean fully intended to finish his sentence this time, but Cas leaned forward and covered his lips with his own, kissing him softly, tenderly. He pulled back and took the vial out of the box, and Dean lowered his head so that Cas could place it around his neck.
"This belongs to my family," he explained quietly, and Dean, even though he wanted to protest at such a gift only two months in, didn’t say a word, too overwhelmed by the meaning behind Cas’s gesture.
"It’s not just my mother who studies Judeo-Christian history and mythology," Cas said, meeting Dean’s eyes with a half-serious, half-humorous expression in his own. "There’s a legend in my family that goes way, way, way back, about an angel who fell for a woman in my line and made a family with her. This is supposedly his grace- the grace he gave her to hold on to. Unfortunately he died in battle, a human battle that he’d chosen to fight in. She tried to give him back the grace, anything to make him live, but she couldn’t find a way. So she passed it on to her son and told him that he should give it to his love to hold on to, the same way she'd received it from her own love. She believed that her children inherited angelic grace in their blood, and that the grace in the bottle would protect them further. According to the legend, all the eldest children in my family history have lived long happy lives with the people they love, handing down the vial when they think that their eldest has found their soulmate."
Dean’s gaze snapped up to Cas’s at that, his mouth dropping open slightly. “That means-“
"My mother gave this to me last week," Cas said, his smile illuminating the car. "Remember when she pulled me into the kitchen to clean up?" Dean nodded dumbly, and Cas leaned in, pressing his lips to Dean’s and the vial to Dean’s heart.
"A legend is just a legend," he said against his lips. "But this thing is pretty damn old and has never broken. It’s survived hundreds and hundreds of years, and I figure it can’t hurt to have it protect us."
"But Cas," Dean murmured, reaching up to curl his palm around Cas’s jaw, kissing the corner of his mouth. "How do you know it’s me? We’ve only been-"
Cas kissed him again gently and pulled back. “‘You’re in a car with a beautiful boy,’” he began softly, and the tears returned to Dean’s eyes as Cas whispered his favorite piece of writing to him, cradling his head in one hand, the other still pressed to the vial resting on his chest.
“‘You’re in a car with a beautiful boy,’” Cas repeated, continuing in a voice clogged with emotion, “‘and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.’”
Cas inhaled deeply, his breath shuddering as he looked Dean in the eye. “You’re in a car with a beautiful boy and you love him,” he said, his voice strong, firm. He continued softly, “You love him.”
"You’re in a car with a beautiful boy and you love him," Dean echoed, unable to tear his gaze away, covering Cas’s trembling hand with his own and bringing it up to his lips. "You love him."
Cas pulled him in, his kiss fierce, desperate, needing. Dean responded with equal fervor, slipping out of the driver's seat and on to Cas’s lap, eternally grateful for his roomy car. Their lips parted and their tongues met, clashing furiously, each wanting to cry of their love to the universe. Cas moved down to Dean’s neck, pulling his shirt off his shoulder and marking him, biting until a bruise formed. Dean moaned at the visible mark on his skin, and Cas slipped his shirt back up, reaching up to kiss him with a satisfied smile.
"I love you," Dean said, his eyes half-lidded with desire. Cas’s smile disappeared as he met Dean’s gaze. "I love you, too," he murmured.
Dean leaned down to kiss him fleetingly, gently, and lay his head on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s skip dinner and go home instead,” he suggested lightly, trying to ease the intensity that permeated the air. He slipped his hand under Cas’s shirt and was rewarded when Cas huffed out a strangled laugh as Dean’s hand brushed his nipple. He caught it through his shirt, stilling his movement, and kissed Dean’s forehead.
"I promise you, tonight will be special," he said quietly. "But let’s get through this first."
Too happy to even make a face, Dean nodded and reached up, threading his fingers through Cas’s hair and pulling him in for a sweet meeting of lips. The vial of grace fell forward, hanging between them, and Cas gripped it tightly in his hand, parting his lips on a happy sigh as Dean's hand covered his own.
*Note: Credit to Richard Siken for the writing of "You're in a car with a beautiful boy."
"This is stupid," Cas mutters, holding the dirty trench coat in his hand as he stares at the knobs and dials of the washing machine. His voice rises in agitation. "I’ve been wearing it like this for years, I don’t need-"
He feels Dean’s hands settle on his hips through the thin fabric of his boxers. Boxers he’d never paid attention to until now. Boxers he’s going to have to wash. And change. Boxers he’d never cared about or ever thought he would care about. Boxers that make him want to fly into a hysteric rage- because he’s grounded for eternity, and nothing will ever make him feel free again.
Except for Dean’s touch.
"It’s okay," Dean murmurs, taking the trench coat from him and gently placing it inside the machine. He puts the top down, and without letting go of the fallen angel, turns the knobs and dials and starts the washing cycle.
"It’s okay," Dean breathes again, his voice ghosting by Cas’s ear as he rubs soft patterns in the bare skin right above his boxers. "I’m here, it’s going to be okay, Cas."
"Dean, you don’t know that," Cas says quietly, keeping the panic at bay by resting his arms on the ones around him. His smooth fingers intertwine with calloused ones, causing his newly beating heart to speed up.
Dean sighs and gently turns him around, placing his index finger beneath Cas’s chin and tipping his head up. Blue meets green in a confused sea of human emotion, and Cas swallows the lump in his throat.
"I promise you it will," Dean says firmly, leaning in to press a kiss to Cas’s forehead. Cas inhales again, but it’s calmer, easier, the smell of clean laundry combining with Dean’s familiar scent to flow soothingly through his lungs.
He lets himself melt into Dean’s arms, lets himself fall into the one person who’s always done everything he could to be there for him, lets Dean’s strong arms wrap around him in a cocoon of warmth, lets the hunter’s soft whispers of nonsensical reassurances slow his heart beat back to normal.
Cas hugs Dean back and lets the tears of his lost grace fall. He listens as their heartbeats adjust and align, and lets their quiet thump thump’s sing to him of humanity.
