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“Come on, Cas.” Dean plops onto the couch at Cas’s side and nudges their shoulders together. “Don’t make that face.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my face.”
“Sure, pal,” Dean says with a laugh. It doesn’t last. Not while Cas is frowning. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s -”
Dean blinks at him, and Cas lets the lie fall. Instead he shuffles in his seat. Slouching slightly, he curls his hands around his knees.
Dean waits, knowing Cas will speak his truth if shown enough patience and compassion. The guy’s not used to having people care about him. Not even Dean. Not even after all these years.
After a sip or two of his coffee, Dean lowers the mug to the coffee table.
“Use a coaster,” Cas says.
Dean makes sure Cas sees him rolling his eyes. “Yes, dear.” But he still reaches for the bee-shaped coasters Cas bought at a flea market and places one under his mug.
So it can’t be all bad, if Cas is still ornery enough to chide him about coasters.
“I’ve been thinking,” Cas starts.
When a long moment goes by where he doesn’t elaborate, Dean attempts to lighten the mood, “I don’t smell smoke.”
Cas gives him a withering look. Dean shrugs; hey, he tried.
Dean reaches for the coffee. He curls his fingers around the handle and lifts.
“Why haven’t we gotten married?”
Dean lowers the mug back down. He turns his gaze to Cas, sees the honest innocence in his eyes, coupled with what dangerously looks like hope, and asks, eloquently, “Huh?”
“We live together.”
“We’re roommates,” Dean says.
“We hold hands.”
“Lots of guys do.”
“We sleep in the same bed,” Cas says.
“Look, you know I like to cuddle. But that’s all we do. Sleep and cuddle. It’s not like we’re having sex.”
Cas presses his lips together. He tilts his head. Oh, God, that’s his pensive face. Is he thinking about… Is he… ? Dean’s brain fizzles out.
“Would you like to?” Cas asks.
The world goes absolutely still, even as Dean’s heart thunders out of control. Oh, God, yes, is at the tip of his tongue, but he bites back, too afraid he’s misreading. Cas can’t mean that. “What, uh… What do you mean?”
“Would you like to have sex with me?”
Dean swallows. “Would you… want to… with me?”
Cas doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” His eyes are so blue, so open, so heated. Why hadn’t Dean noticed that before? Maybe he wasn’t the only one hiding it.
Dean rubs a hand over his mouth. He curses.
“And you?” Cas asks.
“Hell, yes,” Dean says.
He doesn’t know who moves first, but between one second and the next, he has a bundle of angel in his lap and Cas’s tongue in his mouth. It’s absolute Heaven, and Dean’s pretty sure he died at some point to be able to have this. He’ll mourn his own life later. Now, he wants… He wants.
Desperately, though, his last two brain cells rub together and he breaks from Cas. Cas chases his mouth, but Dean turns, pressing their foreheads together. He tries to think - how did they get here? What was the lead-up?
Oh.
Marriage.
“Cas.”
Cas leans back. His weight is a grounding heavy on Dean’s legs. Dean cups Cas’s face in his hands and waits for the lust to clear from Cas’s eyes.
“We don’t have to do this to get married,” Dean says. “I’d marry you anyway.”
“Dean Winchester,” Cas says in his deepest angel-voice, the one he saves for when he thinks Dean is being an idiot. The one Dean uses in all of his fantasies. “I think we should have both.”
“Oh. Ok-umph!”
Cas kisses him again, and somewhere between the couch cushions and the floor, Dean gets lost for a while.
When he comes back to himself, his pants are around his knees and his shirt is across the room. Cas is still on top of him, totally naked now, and planting lazy kisses at Dean’s collarbone.
“We should go to the courthouse,” Dean says.
Cas lifts his head and a single brow. “Now?”
“Why not?”
Cas laughs, and Dean absolutely melts at the way the skin near Cas’s eyes crinkles. He wants to do this right, all of it. No more secret pining. No more fear his love is unrequited.
“I love you, Cas.”
Cas’s smile softens. He doesn’t have to say it back. Dean can see the way those eyes sparkle. They always do when he looks at Dean.
But Cas is gentle and good and kind. So he places his lips to Dean’s and whispers there, “I love you.” A pause. “My fiance.”
“Take my pulse,” Dean says.
Cas drops his head to Dean’s shoulder, but Dean can hear the smile he tries to hide when he says, “Why?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in Heaven.”
Cas rolls away and takes Dean’s hand. He makes a show of placing two fingers to Dean’s wrist. “Still beating.”
“Huh,” Dean says, tugging Cas back against him. “Guess I’m just lucky.”
Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean kisses him.