Kiss #26 - Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.
Summary: The kisses resumed a moment later; butterfly kisses dotted to the back of Cas’ neck. The touches were so feather soft it made Cas’ head spin.
“Do you,” kiss, “know,” another kiss, “what day,” three kisses in a row, “it is,” two more chaste kisses, “today?” Dean asked, ending with a long lingering kiss against Cas’ pulse point in Cas’ neck.
Cas nodded, gasping a breath against the overwhelming onslaught of tender touches, unable to utter the words. Of course he knew. How could he ever forget? Their first kiss with bands wrapped around their fingers. Their first dance as one. The first whispered ‘husband’ against each other's lips. Five years to the day and Cas was more in love than ever.
Word Count: 1,187 (continued under the read more). Also posted on ao3.
Blinking his eyes open sleepily to the warm orange glow of sunrise, Cas hummed quietly as he felt Dean’s lips ghost ever-so-soft traces across his shoulders and up his neck. The touches shifted into gentle brushes; replaced by the feel of Dean’s smile grazing against Cas’ jaw. “Good morning, husband,” Dean murmured against the crook of Cas’ neck.
Cas felt himself lean into Dean’s embrace, desperate to bring their bodies closer together. The feeling must’ve been mutual, because Dean let out the softest content breath of air against the skin between Cas’ shoulder blades.
The kisses resumed a moment later; butterfly kisses dotted to the back of Cas’ neck. The touches were so feather soft it made Cas’ head spin.
“Do you,” kiss, “know,” another kiss, “what day,” three kisses in a row, “it is,” two more chaste kisses, “today?” Dean asked, ending with a long lingering kiss against Cas’ pulse point in Cas’ neck.
Cas nodded, gasping a breath against the overwhelming onslaught of tender touches, unable to utter the words. Of course he knew. How could he ever forget? Their first kiss with bands wrapped around their fingers. Their first dance as one. The first whispered ‘husband’ against each other's lips. Five years to the day and Cas was more in love than ever.
Tears sprung up in the corner of Cas’ eyes as he felt Dean’s fingertips dance beautifully soft patterns, spelling out ‘I love you’ over Cas’ heart, as his lips continued to trail the most shiver-inducing kisses up over Cas’ cheek and into his hair line.
“D-Dean,” Cas whispered, the word wavering on his lips as more tears welled up.
“Shush,” Dean soothed, his lips kissing a path down the back of Cas’ neck before landing on Cas’ favorite spot; right behind his ear. Dean pressed a soft kiss there, before brushing his lips in gentle little doting kisses along the shell of Cas’ ear. Dean’s fingers drifted down, his arms settling warm and safe around Cas’ waist as he traced soothing touches across Cas’ hip. “I’ve got you, Angel. Always.”
“Dean, I-”
Dean’s nose brushed against Cas’ ear lobe seconds before his lips replaced the trail. “I know sweetheart,” Dean murmured into Cas’ ear, nuzzling his nose into that spot behind Cas’ ear again. “I know.”
The breath in Cas’ lungs stuttered out almost painfully as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was too much, too much, not enough. Being the center of Dean’s attention like this. Being touched and kissed and held in the most agonizingly tender way possible made Cas’ heart clench in his chest.
Those sinfully beautiful lips dropped down onto the bolt of Cas’ jaw and Cas let out a broken whine. Dean’s hand nudged Cas’ hip down onto the mattress until Cas was lying on his back.
Finally, finally, Dean pressed his lips to Cas’, and Cas let out the most desperate broken gasp as his hands scrambled on Dean’s shoulder to draw him deeper into the kiss.
Dean’s tongue soothed along Cas’ lower lip and gently licked into the Angel’s mouth. Every touch was so soft, so slow, and Cas hadn’t even realized when he’d started shaking, but Dean must’ve, because his hands were running up and down Cas’ sides in gentle soothing motions.
The kisses were agonizingly slow; Dean’s tongue ever-so-slowly tracing over the roof of Cas’ mouth and just faintly grazing against Cas’ tongue before shifting away to lick over the inner seam of Cas’ mouth.
Cas pulled back from the kiss, heaving in a sharp breath of air and gasping out in frustration, “Dean!”
Shaking his head, Dean dropped down to ghost a chaste kiss against the corner of Cas’ mouth before leaning back again. “Easy, Angel. We’ve got all the time in the world. Slow down with me,” he murmured, brushing his nose against Cas’. “Please.”
Cas arched his back as Dean’s fingers traced down across Cas’ stomach. “Please, please, just- I need…”
“Shush,” Dean hushed again, covering Cas’ mouth with his own as he swallowed the whine Cas let out. “I’ll give you anything you want, Cas Winchester. Anything.”
Panting, Cas dragged Dean’s body impossibly closer. “Kiss me, Dean, please, just kiss me.”
Nudging his nose against the cupid’s bow of Cas’ lip, Dean murmured, “I love you, my devastating handsome husband.” And then Dean was kissing Cas again.
This time, when Dean’s tongue dipped into Cas’ mouth, he finally allowed their tongues to tangle together. It was electrifying, sending a shock wave of shivers down Cas’ spine as Dean finally kissed him the way Cas had desperately been waiting for. Their lips melded together, as if they were meant to be interlocked forever, and Cas swore he was never ever going to let Dean break this kiss. He’d die locked in this kiss.
It was slow and long, deep and lingering, as Dean ran the tip of his tongue along the flat of Cas’; almost as if Dean was memorizing the taste of Cas in agonizing detail. Dean was huffing sharp breaths through his nose against Cas’ cheek, but he kept their mouths melded together, as if he couldn’t bring himself to break the kiss either.
There was something about this kiss. They’d shared thousands and thousands of kisses over the years. Their first kiss in the Impala. The kiss Cas had given Dean when Dean was on his knees with a ring box in his hands. Their first kiss alone together against the bedroom door after their wedding.
But this… this kiss right here… this was something so earth-shattering it was almost unbearable. It was so desperate, so tender and fond, so aching, so loving, so all encompassing and all-consuming. Cas had never been more in love with Dean than he was right now in this very moment. He wanted to crack open his chest and absorb Dean’s love directly into his heart.
When Dean finally dropped his head, chest rattling as he drew in rapid heavy lungfuls of air, Cas knew Dean had felt that moment for what it was, too.
They grasped hold of each other, dragging the other into another kiss as fast as they could. Dean could barely keep his lips on Cas’, still trying to catch his breath.
“Don’t, Dean… please don’t stop,” Cas gasped out.
“No, no,” Dean uttered back, still drawing in quick breaths against Cas’ mouth without breaking the kiss. When their mouths melted against each other again, tongues wrapping together, bodies aligning as they dragged themselves against each other; Cas was sure his heart had stopped beating.
Time stood still.
It was just them, their mouths intertwined, their bodies one.
“I… I-I,” Cas gasped into Dean’s mouth. “Love… you.”
With painstaking effort that took more than a couple of attempts, Dean finally slowed the kiss down into something more gentle and soft, but still just as passionate. Their lips still locked, their hearts still racing, Dean traced his fingers over Cas’ cheeks; catching the stray tears that had leaked from Cas’ eyes.
”Happy anniversary,” Dean pressed the words into Cas’ lips.
Cas smiled into the kiss. ”Happy Valentine’s Day.”
They were sitting in another diner, a plate of cold fries pushed to the side to make room for several books and notes as they mapped out the case in town.
But Dean couldn't keep his eyes on the papers. Not when Cas was sat on the other side on the booth, biting at his lower lip as he skimmed through a book they'd borrowed from the local library. It was distracting.
But not as distracting as Cas' left hand. Cas was flicking pages with his right hand, but his left hand was just resting on the table between them. And Dean had the overwhelming urge to press their hands together and interlock their fingers.
They hadn't held hands before; at least not in public. Private kisses and gentle touches behind closed doors over the last few weeks, yet they'd never discussed anything about them being affectionate around other people.
And yet now, sitting in this dimly lit diner at 9 o'clock at night on a random Monday, Dean absolutely yearned to link their hands together. He ached to feel Cas' hand brushing against his own. All he had to do was inch his own hand just a few inches forward and he could slide his pinky finger across Cas'. But he didn't know if Cas would want that.
So Dean sat there and pretended to research while he pined.
Until a ridiculous idea popped into his mind. Grabbing one of the spare napkins from the holder, Dean pulled out a pen and scratched a quick message onto the napkin.
He waited until Cas had finished his page before he nudged the napkin across the table into Cas' space. Cas looked up, squinting his eyes and tilting his head at Dean before finally looking down at the note Dean had written.
'Can I hold your hand?'
Cas glanced at the paper, then back up to Dean, then down to the napkin again before a soft little smile graced his face. When their gazes locked again, Cas was absolutely beaming as he flipped his left hand on the table so his palm was facing up; an invitation for Dean to take.
Quietly, Dean inched his own hand forward until he slipped his hand into Cas'; pressing their palms together softly. Simultaneously they both intertwined their fingers, causing Dean to grin at Cas. The touch was warm and comforting; a perfect fit. It was everything Dean has been aching for, and his heart hummed in pleasure as Cas' thumb graze across the back of Dean's hand.
"Is this okay?" Dean finally asked into the quiet space between them.
Cas squeezed Dean's hand in response. For a few seconds, they stared at each other, and Dean swore his heart began to kick up speed against his ribs.
"It's perfect," Cas said, squeezing Dean's hand again before glancing back to his book.
They sat for another 30 minutes researching with their hands interlocked before they finally packed up and headed back to the motel where Sam had just found something useful.
And if Dean saw Cas tucking the little napkin note into his trenchcoat pocket with a fond smile, well, then Dean just had to hold Cas' hand as they left the diner because he was overcome with another surge of affection for his angel.
for @starrynightdeancas' milestone celebration! congratulations <3 and happy beachday, dean winchester.
Dean's the one who laces their fingers together, but it's okay because Cas lifts their entwined hands and kisses Dean's knuckles right after.
"I love you." Cas tells him, soft.
His cheeks burn.
(Sunscreen isn't very effective against unprompted adoration, is it?)
Dean squeezes Cas's hand, eyes cast down to contain a shy smile. There's a shallow, retreating wave under his feet — the sun setting after a glorious, long day. Sand between his toes. And the evening breeze tingles at the back of his neck, reminding him of mornings when he gets to wake up to Cas wrapped around him, his breath warm (and only a little ticklish) down Dean's tshirt.
No reason to hold back anymore, he tells himself, and lets himself smile.
"You look happy." Cas says after a beat. There's a smile in his voice as well.
"Well, you know me." Dean throws back, turning to meet Cas's eyes, and perhaps taking a beat to marvel at them. It never gets old. Maybe because he still can't believe he gets this. Walking on the beach with the love of his life, content with the knowledge that his family is safe — Sam and Eileen are a little further in the water, taking their first surf class (nerds) and Jack is collecting seashells with Miracle (Dean keeps seeing them occasionally, and then they disappear in the crowd again) — he still can't believe they made it.
"Huh?"
Dean grins. "I'm Dean Winchester, babe. I'm an Aquarius." The words come back as easy as an old habit. "I like sunsets, long walks on the beach, and Hawaiian-shirt-wearing angels of the lord."
"I still don't understand why I have to wear this." Cas remarks mildly. "Sam insisted rather peculiarly that I must."
"That's 'cause sometimes he pays attention." Dean shrugs, leaning in to kiss Cas's cheek, because he can, and because it's proved on occasion to be an effective distraction against a lengthy dismantling of the why's and how's of every element of their now-human lives.
Cas almost certainly gets he's being dismissed, in sorts, but he's clearly willing to go with it because he meets Dean's lips with his own in an easy, lingering kiss.
Then, they resume walking. And maybe Dean swings their hands a little more — if nothing, then for the delightful laugh Cas lets out when he does it.
Maybe, he's happy.
And maybe, sometimes, that makes all the difference.
[Tags: angst with a happy ending, memory loss, pre-season 10, canon divergent]
Chapter Summary:
Sam blinked. He suddenly thought of the way he’d always seen Cas as large and cosmic. Despite how Sam called Cas a ‘friend’ it was Dean who’d treated him more like a brother-in-arms than an offshoot of celestial power. Even after hell, Sam felt that Cas’s otherness drew more attention from him than any human traits he’d picked up.
Now, though, he saw through Cas’s eyes and to the core of the matter: his heart.
“Oh,” Sam said quietly in realization.
Start from the beginning:
[ This AMAZING Graphic Made by the incredibly talented @bluefirecas and a HUGE thank you shout out to my godlike betas: @donestiel @wanderingcas and @sinnabonka. I couldn’t do this without them! ]
AU-Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Dean is a UPS Driver, Cas and Dean are idiots, Gabe is trying to help
4k (oops this fic got long)
also posted on ao3
written for Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 2k Followers Celebration <3 <3
Castiel knelt on the grass to pull up some stubborn weeds in the garden lining the front of his newly-bought house. The previous inhabitants had left behind a tangled mess of rose bushes and weeds, and after a week of unpacking boxes, he was happy to finally have time to spend outside. One of the perks of moving from an apartment to a small bungalow—finally space for a garden. Although, he was sure the inside of his house would soon become just as packed with plants as his apartment had been.
Engrossed as he was in weeding and planning what flowers he would plant to expand the garden, he didn’t hear someone approach until a shadow fell over the dirt.
Startling, he looked up to see a man standing on the walkway next to him. “What—oh.” By the man’s clothes—brown collared shirt and shorts—and the package he was holding, Castiel realized he was a UPS delivery driver. “Hello.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the driver said, fighting back a smile.
Castiel stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “It’s alright.”
The man held out a package. “I was gonna deliver this to your front door, unless you want to take it now.”
“Yes, thank you.” Taking it, Castiel looked down at the label, trying to remember what he had ordered. Something for his kitchen, probably.
“Did you just move in?” the UPS driver asked. His eyes were very green, a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Freckles everywhere, Castiel realized, seeing the way they lightly spotted his bare arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
Realizing he was staring, Castiel reddened, glanced down at the package in his hands. “Uh, yes, I did. Last week.”
“Welcome to Bloomfield, then.” He nodded at the rose bushes. “Nice garden you got here.”
“You don’t have to lie, it’s a mess.” The driver laughed and Castiel smiled a little. “It’s not much now. Hopefully I’ll be able to fix it up soon.”
“I’ll keep an eye out, see how things develop.” The man took a step back and gestured to the UPS truck on the street. “I’ve got other packages to deliver. Nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Castiel said, watching him leave. Kneeling down to continue yanking out the prickly weeds, he smiled. It was nice to meet someone friendly; he hadn’t gotten to meet many people yet with the chaos of moving in. Of course, he thought, glancing back at the UPS truck as it rumbled down the street, it didn’t hurt that the driver was extremely attractive as well.
***
The next week, Castiel was hanging up art prints in his living room when he heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was for a package he’d ordered, he took his time getting to the door, straightening the print on the wall before weaving through the cardboard boxes he still hadn’t unpacked.
When he opened the front door, however, he was surprised to see the green-eyed UPS driver standing on his porch holding the package.
The man’s face brightened. “Hi. Got a delivery for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, opening the door wider. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I thought you delivery drivers just dropped off the package and disappeared.”
The UPS driver laughed. Such a nice laugh, Castiel thought. “Right, yeah, that’s what we normally do. But, uh, we have a new policy. Have to get a signature for packages.” He handed over a clipboard and pen, pointing to the line at the bottom of the page. "Just sign here."
“Oh. Alright.” Castiel took the clipboard and signed his name. When he handed it back, he saw the man glance at the signature. “Castiel,” he supplied.
“Cool name. I’m Dean.”
“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Having been occupied all week with moving in and subsequently starved for conversation, he added, “You’re one of the first people I’ve met so far. The other being a cashier at that grocery store down the street.”
“Still getting settled in?”
“Yes. It’s taking much longer than I anticipated. I hate unpacking. It never seems to end.”
“Yeah, moving’s a bitch. You liking the place so far, though?”
Castiel nodded. “I do. Much improved from the apartment where I was living before.”
“God, I bet. I share an apartment with my brother—don’t get me wrong, I like living with him, but our landlord’s an asshole.” He gestured to the right. “Garden’s looking great.”
“Thank you. I just bought petunias, but I haven’t had a chance to plant them.” He pointed at the small brown box Dean was still holding. “That should be new gardening gloves in there.”
“Oh, right, your package.” Dean’s face looked a little red as he handed the box over. “Um, well, I should be on my way. See ya.” He stepped off the porch with a wave and Castiel waved back before going inside.
As he unpacked his belongings, he realized filling a house was harder than he’d thought. There were so many household items he was missing. Perhaps a trip to the store would be faster, but ordering online was easier—or so he told himself as he opened his laptop.
I’m only trying to save myself time, he reasoned, though inwardly he might have been hoping Dean would deliver the package.
Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he found himself growing more impatient over the next few days. Then, one afternoon as he organized his silverware drawer, he heard the doorbell ring. He practically ran to the front door, then paused and steadied himself before opening it, waiting a few seconds so it wouldn’t seem like he’d rushed over.
It might not even be Dean, he chastised himself as he unlocked the door.
Dean smiled at him when he swung the door wide.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, trying to sound casual and hide his smile.
“Hi.” He looked to be about Castiel’s age. What were the chances that someone this attractive was single? “Got another package. A heavy one this time.”
Pushing away those thoughts, Castiel took it from him and placed it inside on the floor. “Thank you. Don’t I have to sign something?”
“Uh, shit, yeah.” Dean handed over the clipboard and pen, and as Castiel signed, he nodded at the package. “Something else for the garden?”
Castiel shook his head, handing back the clipboard. “A mixer. I thought maybe I could try my hand at baking. My mom sent me a few of her recipes.”
Dean’s eyes brightened. “You ever want inspiration, there’s a diner, other side of town, a few blocks from where I live, that makes the best pie. Makes them fresh every morning.”
“I’ll have to go sometime.” He stopped short of saying that maybe he’d see Dean there, not wanting to sound too excited at the prospect.
Maybe I should order more things for the kitchen, he thought, shutting the door after saying goodbye to Dean. Or a new bath mat, and curtains, maybe. The boxes he had yet to unpack scolded him by their presence, but he ignored them. If receiving new items meant talking to a friendly face, who could blame him?
***
“You sure get a lot of packages,” Dean remarked the next week when Castiel opened the door.
Castiel reddened. “Turns out it’s hard to fill a whole house.”
“I’m not complaining, you’re the one giving me a job to do.” Dean handed over the package. “What’s it this week?”
“A watering can.”
“You really like to garden, don’t you?” Dean gestured to the flowers and plants lining the front of the house. “I mean, you’ve added a lot since moving in.”
“Yes, well, I find it’s a wonderful way to wind down after work.”
Dean nodded. “I get that. Any spare time I have, I work on my car.”
Castiel glanced at the UPS truck, because he hadn’t really considered Dean driving anything else. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of running into Dean somewhere else, at the diner, at the grocery store. He wondered how Dean dressed when he wasn’t in his uniform, what else he did in his free time.
Dean followed his gaze to the street and gestured to the UPS truck. “This thing, it’s crap. No AC, no radio. What do you drive?” He glanced at Castiel’s driveway. “That a Lincoln Continental? 78? 77?”
Castiel caught the derisive tone in his voice. “78. And I like it,” he added defensively.
Dean smiled, raising his hands. “Eye of the beholder, I guess. You ever need work done on it, let me know, I can help.” His eyes widened a little at his own words. “I mean, you don’t need to, I just meant, if you want. I’m good at that stuff.”
“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the offer.” Inwardly, he cursed his car for being so reliable. Maybe the engine light would turn on and he could take him up on his offer. Or maybe Dean was only being friendly and didn’t really mean it.
When Dean headed back to his truck and Castiel shut the door, he realized Dean hadn’t asked him to sign anything. Maybe he’d only forgotten.
***
“Gotten acquainted with the locals?” Gabriel asked a few nights later when he called to see how Castiel was settling in.
“I talked with one of my neighbors yesterday. Arla. She’s eighty-two and owns three cats.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Castiel glanced at the mixer. “And, uh, I did meet someone else. Someone my age, not a neighbor. Dean.”
“Met someone? Like went on a date with—”
“No, he works for the UPS, he’s been delivering my packages.” He was interrupted by Gabriel laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“So instead of going out and meeting real people, you’re making friends with the delivery guy.”
“Dean is real,” Castiel protested. “He’s very kind and friendly. And helpful. He’s told me about places to check out in town and complimented my garden—”
“Damn, Cas, sounds like you really like this guy.”
“No, he’s just a nice person,” Castiel insisted. By Gabriel’s laughter, he knew he wasn’t being believable. “Alright, fine. I enjoy talking to him.” He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that seeing Dean was becoming his favorite part of the week.
“He single?”
“Um. Yes.” He may or may not have asked Arla if she knew Dean, and may or may not have learned that she couldn’t believe “a charming young man like him is still single.” Oh, and that if she were a younger woman, she would be ordering packages left and right to flirt with him when he delivered. Castiel did not appreciate that last part, even if Arla had no idea how close to the truth she’d struck. I’m not flirting, he argued inwardly.
“Well, are you going to make a move or not?” When Castiel didn’t respond right away, Gabriel added, “Right, I forgot who I’m talking to.”
“I might,” Castiel protested. “But we only just met. And I don’t even know if he likes me. He’s only doing his job.”
“May as well ask him out, see what he says.”
Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to rush into anything. I only just moved here.”
“Well, you snooze, you lose, Cas. Don’t miss out on something just because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared!”
I’m not scared, he repeated to himself when he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He was being reasonable. But maybe Gabriel was right. Dean had to be somewhat interested—delivery guys didn’t just stick around to talk after delivering a package. Maybe he’d test the waters, try to see if Dean was truly interested or just being friendly.
***
A few days later, he was watering his petunias when Dean got out of his truck with another package.
“Hey, Cas!” he called.
“Hello, Dean.” Setting down his water can, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Thank you,” he said, taking the narrow box from Dean. Before he lost his courage, he spoke up, “I, um, made a pie this morning.” Whether he’d made it specifically to offer to Dean was something he’d never admit to anyone, much less himself. “I was wondering if you wanted a slice? You can tell me if it’s good or not.”
Dean broke into a grin. “Shit, Cas, really? Yeah, thanks.”
“Wait here, I’ll grab it.”
When he returned to the doorway with a paper plate covered in foil, he caught Dean looking inside his house.
“It’s still a mess in here,” Castiel said, handing the plate over. “I’ve been kinda busy with work.”
“No, yeah, totally, no judgement.” He peeled back the foil and inhaled. “Fuck, I’m starving. This looks amazing.” Picking up the slice, he took a bite. “Mmm,” he said, rolling his eyes back.
“Good?” Castiel asked, amused.
“So good,” Dean said, his voice muffled. He swallowed. “You’re a natural.”
“Thank you. I have more, if you’d like it.”
“Don’t tempt me. Yes.”
Grinning, Castiel went back inside and packaged up two more slices, brought them to Dean.
“You’re an angel,” Dean said. “Seriously.” He juggled the plates in his hands. “So, where do you work?”
Castiel leaned on the doorway. “I work here. I’m an editor. I do freelance work.”
“Dude, that’s cool. Nice that you get to work from home.” Looking down at his watch, he swore quietly. “Sorry, I need to keep moving. I’ve got a lot of deliveries today.”
“Oh,” Castiel said, disappointed, straightening. “Alright. Sorry for keeping you so long.”
“No problem, this was a nice break.” He stepped off the walkway. “Thanks for the pie.”
“You’re welcome.” Ask him for his number. Ask him if he would like to go out. But he kept quiet and watched Dean cross the yard back to his truck.
***
That night, Castiel ordered a set of bookends shaped like trees. He checked his email the next few days, tracking the package. On the day it was to be delivered, he had to run errands and got stuck in traffic. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw a package sitting on the front porch. Shit. He’d missed Dean.
Grabbing his bag of groceries, he walked over and picked up the package with his free hand. Then he noticed a note taped to the top.
Sorry I missed you, it read. The pie was incredible.
Castiel smiled.
***
Sunlight streamed through his living room windows as Castiel organized his books on his bookshelves. He was just pushing his new bookends into place when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he went to the front door and looked out through the window. Dean?
“Hello, Dean,” he said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting a package today.”
“Oh, really?” Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile as he turned around the cardboard box in his hands. Bold black letters were written across the front: SAY HI TO DEAN FOR ME.
Castiel’s eyes widened and he snatched the box out of Dean’s hands. “What? I don’t know how—” He scanned the box for the label. Gabriel, he realized. “It’s my brother,” he explained. “I was telling him about you, he must’ve sent me this to embarrass me, I’m so sorry.”
Dean’s smile won out. “No, it’s fine, that’s kinda hilarious.” He shifted his stance, the wooden porch boards creaking. “You, uh, you told him about me?”
Castiel’s head snapped up from glaring at Gabe’s name on the return label. “Um, yes,” he faltered. “Well, I was just telling him that I met someone, and it’s been nice to, uh, uh, have a friend.”
Friend? He hardly knew Dean, for fuck’s sake. For all he knew, he was just a random person Dean spoke to occasionally on his route, no more important than Arla or any of the other people he delivered to.
But Dean smiled. “Yeah, uh, me too. I mean, I like meeting people on my route, just makes the day a lot better when I get to stop and talk.” He reddened a little and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his boots.
“I hope I don’t keep you from your other deliveries,” Castiel said.
Dean waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I get the other ones done fast so I can spend more time here.” He cut himself off and reddened even further, as if realizing what he was admitting.
So, Dean was deliberately trying to see him, talk to him. Castiel felt his face heat up as well. “I’m sure delivering packages all day can be very boring,” he offered.
Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, ya know, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Besides, I’m just trying to make sure this neighborhood’s newest resident is doing okay.” He grinned. “Think of me as the welcome committee.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Really.”
Dean nodded again, and they stood there awkwardly for a few long moments. Castiel glanced back down at the box, Gabe’s words ringing in his head. Ask him out, see what he says.
“I’ll get on my way,” Dean said, stepping back. He smiled a little. “Tell your brother I said hi.”
“I will.” Maybe he should just blurt it out. Dean had said he enjoyed stopping by here. But maybe he only meant that in a friendly way. Castiel had called him a friend, after all. He chickened out. “Have a good rest of your day.”
“You too.” Dean walked away and Castiel glared down at the box.
“Not helpful,” he told it.
***
“Gabe, I hate you.”
“What? I was just trying to spark conversation between you two—”
“I hate you. I can hold a conversation well enough myself, thank you very much. You only made things awkward.” He paused before adding, “Dean says hi, by the way.”
Gabriel cheered and Castiel pulled his phone away from his ear. “So it worked? You asked him out?”
“Um...” Castiel pulled at a rip on his gardening jeans. “No.”
“Cassie!” Gabriel whined. “I did all that work for nothing? What’s the holdup? Ask him out.”
Castiel groaned. “I will. Eventually. But, I mean, can he even say yes? He’s on the job—”
“Cas, he’s already taking time out of his workday to talk to you. Pretty sure he’ll say yes, even if he’s working. Stop making excuses.”
“Fine. I’ll ask him.” He only said it to get Gabriel off his back, but his palms grew sweaty even thinking about it.
“You better. Keep me updated.”
“Only if you never pull a prank like that again.”
“I can’t promise anything.”
***
Seated at his desk, Castiel frowned at an awkwardly worded sentence that refused to form itself into any coherency. Was the past tense of lie lay or laid? Why couldn’t he ever remember?
The doorbell ringing drew his attention and, grateful for the break, he saved the document he was editing and got up. Going to the front door, he wondered if he had any left-over pie to give Dean and drag out their time together in the doorway.
Opening the door, he began to say hello, then paused. A UPS delivery man was walking away to his truck, a package at Castiel’s feet on his front porch.
“Wait!” Castiel called, stepping outside. The man turned—not Dean. Someone he’d never seen before. “Who the hell are you?”
The man looked startled. “I, uh, I’m a delivery—”
“No, sorry.” Castiel flushed. “Where’s Dean?”
“Dean?” The man frowned. “I don’t know who that is. We all got new routes a few days ago. He must be on another route now.”
Castiel’s heart sank. “Oh.” Another route? He looked down at the package. “Don’t I have to sign something?”
“No, you’re all good. We don’t require signatures.” The man continued to his truck and Castiel picked up the package. A lattice pastry roller to make more intricate pie crusts. He’d thought Dean might appreciate the effort.
Shutting the door, he stood in the foyer for a moment. So, Dean was gone. Why hadn’t he ever asked for Dean’s number? He’d had plenty of opportunities.
It’s a small town, he reasoned. I’ll see him again, I have to. He knew Dean lived on the other side of town, maybe if he drove around there, kept an eye out—
Alright, stop, he told himself. He was starting to sound crazy. He dropped the package off on the kitchen table. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.
***
The next day, Castiel was seated at his desk, sending an email to a client, when the doorbell rang.
His pulse sped up, and instinctively he rose from his chair. Then he remembered that Dean didn’t deliver to his house anymore. Sighing, he sat back down.
He’d been trying not to think of it, but every other item in his house—the mixer, the bookends, the pastry roller—only reminded him of Dean and brought down his mood.
Why didn’t I take Gabe’s advice? he bemoaned inwardly. That was a thought he never thought he’d have, but it looked like Gabe had been right. He’d lost his chance.
Staring at his computer screen, he tried to focus on his work, but the distraction had ruined his focus. At least I’ll save money, he reasoned ruefully, now that he had no excuse for making random purchases.
The doorbell rang again and he lifted his head, frowning. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ordering anything. Maybe it was Arla, coming over to say hello.
Rising, he went to the front door and tried to remember the name of that diner Dean had told him about. Maybe he’d stake out there on a weekend, see if Dean showed up. Or was that creepy?
Definitely creepy, he decided with a sigh, opening the door. Then he froze.
“Dean?”
Standing on his front porch—this time in jeans and a black t-shirt, holding a potted fern—was Dean. He smiled hesitantly, almost nervously. “Hi, Cas.”
“What are you doing here?” Castiel looked at the street, but of course the familiar UPS truck wasn’t there. In its place was a sleek, black car.
“My route changed and I, uh, never got to say bye. So I thought I’d just come over. Sorry if that’s weird—”
“No, I’m happy to see you. Just surprised. I thought I’d never…”
Dean grinned. “Scared you’d lost me forever?”
Castiel smiled. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted.
“I, um, I brought you this.” He held out the plant, laughed nervously. “I felt weird coming over without anything to deliver.”
“Thank you. It’s lovely.” Taking the plant, he stroked the leaves. “I know exactly where to put it.” His heart pounded as he realized now was his chance. He had to take it.
He started to ask for Dean’s number, but Dean started talking too, and they both stopped, laughing. “You first,” Castiel said.
“Um, well.” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was thinking, would you maybe want to hang out somewhere other than your doorway? I can show you around town.” He gestured to his car. “Take you for a spin in Baby.”
Castiel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I would love that.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to ask you out, or ask for your number. I just never worked up the courage.”
Dean grinned. “Am I really that intimidating?”
Castiel laughed. “No. Not at all. You’re quite the opposite.” He gestured inside. “Would you, uh, would you like to come inside?”
“Yeah, totally.”
Castiel started to open the door wider, then paused. “I have a question. You never did need my signature, did you? For the packages?”
Dean frowned, then realization seemed to hit him and his face reddened. “Yeah, uh. No. But I figured it was a surefire way to get your name and talk to you.”
“Is that a trick you use often?”
“Nope, you were the first.” He grinned, eyes suddenly teasing. "Did you really need everything you were ordering, or were all the packages just an excuse to see me?"
Now was Castiel's time to blush. "I did need what I ordered!" he protested. "Well, some things. But mainly... I just wanted to talk to you."
“Well, it worked.”
“Yes.” He stepped back for Dean to come inside his home and smiled at him. “And I’m very glad it did."
“for day 1: beach of @starrynightdeancas 2k follower celebration! sophie, you are SO deserving and this was such a cute idea!
************
Dean thought that everything was going well.
Cas had adapted fairly well to being human in their post-Chuck world, although he had developed a handful of new human quirks. He slept like the dead, liked all of his food really spicy, and developed an unusual affinity for flat white coffees.
(He was also a great person to cuddle with, and it led Dean to wonder why he’d continued to sleep alone all these years.)
But, once again, everything was going well.
That is, until Dean walked into the bunker’s kitchen while Cas was doing dishes and discovered him dancing and lip-synching along to a goddamn Beach Boys song. That’s right, the sixties’ “rock” group (although Dean wouldn’t refer to them as rock, not even at gunpoint). The dulcet tones of the song Kokomo echoed through the kitchen.
Aruba, Jamaica, oh I want to take you to
Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Oh I want to take you down to
Kokomo, we'll get there fast and then we'll take it slow
That's where we want to go, way down in Kokomo
Dean shook his head and left the kitchen, unseen, and that was that.
Until the next week, when Cas was washing his truck outside and Dean went to bring him a beer and discovered Cas was listening to Jimmy freaking Buffet.
“You know this isn’t really music,” Dean said, using his bottle to pop the cap off of Cas’.
“Why not?” Cas dried his hands on his shorts (which were...distracting, to say the least) and took the proffered beer.
“I--it just isn’t. I mean, Jimmy Buffet? He’s some fish-loving guy that wrote a song named Margaritaville? And he’s from Florida.”
“Actually, he’s from Mississippi.” Cas took a swig of the beer. “And I like his music.”
Apparently this was a lost cause.
(Dean would never tell Cas, but after enough of hearing songs like Wouldn’t it Be Nice, Surfin’ USA, Good Vibrations, Mañana, and Cheeseburger in Paradise, he finally admitted that maybe Cas’ teeny-bopping beach-pop wasn’t so bad.)
