"it's like being chained to a comet"
"Never again shall you thirst, for I am come to wet your mouth with wine and water, to quench your thirst with kisses. Words of Love from my own lips will serve as your oasis, and you shall never want for drink again."
It’s nearing midnight and they stop for fuel at some gas station in the middle of nowhere.
Sam has been dozing in the backseat for the last fifteen miles and Cas, sitting shotgun, has started to nod off. Even Dean’s eyes are starting to itch and he knows he’ll have to stop for the night soon if he doesn’t wanna get into an accident.
But first, fuel. Dean inserts the gas pump and considers heading inside to pick up some snack to help keep himself awake for the last stretch of the day’s journey. He’s debating between red vines and mixed nuts when the door on the passenger side opens and Cas exits.
Dean looks him over as he stands and stretches, a familiar warmth blooming underneath his collar. He considers saying something to break the tension probably only he feels but decides against it; the night is too quiet and too lovely to be interrupted like that.
It rained earlier. The ground is still wet, small puddles gathered where the pavement is concave, reflecting the too-bright lights hanging above them. There’s a faint smell of gasoline in the air but also that undefinable scent of the aftermath of rain, fresh and cool.
Cas finishes stretching and now he’s the one looking at Dean, staring unashamedly. Dean stares right back, at Cas’ hair sticking up where his head rested against the window, at the dark bruise forming on his cheek. His eyes have an almost eerie glow to them in this light and he’s so beautiful it makes Dean ache.
Dean should say something. Ask Cas if he wants something from the shop. Tell him they’ll be stopping for the night as soon as they come across a motel. Make small talk about the weather, even.
He doesn’t. He keeps staring and Cas stares back and just when it seems that nothing can end this moment, Cas leans in.
Dean inhales sharply as Cas’ lips touch his, eyes closing on instinct. It’s barely a kiss, just a dry press of lips against lips that lasts for all of two seconds before Cas is pulling away, leaving Dean dizzy and wanting for more. It almost seems like it didn’t happen, the only hint in Cas’ expression the faint, pleased upturn of his lips.
“I’m going inside to buy beef jerky,” he tells Dean.
Dean stares at him.
“Do you want anything?”
Dean wordlessly shakes his head.
“Alright.”
Cas walks off and Dean watches him go, bewildered. He’s still standing in the same spot when Cas returns.
“I got you peanut M&Ms,” he says, handing Dean the bag and climbing back into his seat.
Dean watches him for a beat, the turns back to the pump. It’s stopped, the tank long since full, and Dean puts it away on autopilot before getting in the car. He looks down at the bag of M&Ms in his hand, then at Cas, who looks back at him nonplussed.
“Thanks,” he finally croaks.
“You’re welcome,” Cas says.
Dean goes to turn the engine on. Then, considering, he looks over his shoulder to check on Sam - still out like a light. He turns back to Cas, something surging in his chest, giving him the courage to lean in and give him a quick peck on the cheek. It makes him feel strange and clumsy but Cas just gives him an unbearably gentle smile, eyes alight.
a kind-of coda to 15x18. this is not speculation, just what i felt i needed to write
Dean had tried not to think about what he’d do if he ever saw Cas again.
It shouldn’t be possible. Cas was gone, for good. And sure, he’d been gone for good more than once before and always found his way back from it but that didn’t guarantee anything. Dean couldn’t afford to hope, not when losing Cas had almost killed him the last time.
And yet. That hope had stuck stubbornly around, refusing to go away despite Dean’s best efforts. This wasn’t, couldn’t be, the end, because Cas may have said his piece but Dean sure has hell hadn’t.
He’d hold him, was his first thought. The way he had before, clinging to Cas with all that hunger and desperation he felt whenever he returned, his longing safely hidden behind social conventions, armed with an iron-clad excuse to touch that no one could question.
He’d kiss him, was his second thought, and even thinking it had Dean’s heart seizing, caught somewhere between pants-shitting terror and transcendent joy. It was something he hadn’t even allowed himself to fantasize about before, and even thinking it felt almost too audacious.
Maybe, since he was already in the realm of impossible fantasies, he’d say something cool first, something like ‘We really gotta work on your timing, angel’. And Cas would smile, like he’d known what was coming all along and had just been waiting for Dean to get with the program, and that would be the moment Dean would lean in and kiss him, capturing that smile against his lips.
(Except, no, it wouldn’t happen that way because Cas hadn’t known. How he couldn’t have was beyond Dean, not when angels were supposed to feel longing and he’d been bleeding it for almost as long as he’d known Cas. But then, how could Cas have known when Dean was only just coming to terms with it himself?)
He’d punch him in the face, was his third thought, but anger was becoming more and more difficult for Dean to hold on to and the urge for violence faded quick. Even if Cas had picked just the absolute worst way to tell Dean he loved him, the one guaranteed to cause him the most pain, and all that without even meaning to.
In the end, Dean did none of that.