Work Text:
Crack in the Fourth Wall
Dean had asked Cas to meet him at, what he considered, their spot. It was a diner off of road forty two. One of those little Mom and Pop joints, where the burgers were greasy, the fountain sodas were sweeter, and pie that was so good, Dean almost contemplated investigating if something witchy was going on.
It had become a tradition, any time he and Cas finished a case together. They'd hit the diner on their way back home to the bunker. In the beginning, Dean had thought maybe that was the reason he preferred going on hunts with Cas over Sammy. Well, that and the fact that the angel didn't expel noxious gas if he ate anything.
But as the months went by, as they spent more and more time alone together, Dean began to realize that maybe the diner wasn't really why he liked their, as he liked to call it, moose free hunts.
Dean hadn't been side swiped with the realization. It wasn't the equivalent of an anvil being dropped on his head. Closer to a slow burning fuse. It was a random Tuesday, in the morning over coffee, when Dean Winchester realized he was in love with his best friend.
It took him several overemotional reactions, BM scenes if you will, and almost a month before Dean decided he needed to tell Cas how he really felt.
So Dean spent the next week plotting out how he wanted it to go down. He was going to tell Cas over cheeseburgers at their diner, because he could think of no better place. Plus, if shit went sideways, at least he got a cheeseburger out of the deal.
He'd had his speech planned out, even written on notecards if he got too nervous. Dean would tell Cas all of the amazing ways he changed his life for the better. That every day was a good day, because Cas was there. How when he lost him that last go-round with Lucifer, it almost broke him. That he wanted to take their relationship to the next level and he hoped that Cas felt the same.
The day had finally arrived and Dean found himself sitting alone at their booth, drumming his fingers against the table in nervous anticipation. Cas was on his way and Dean felt like he was somewhere between incredibly excited, and ready to borch his guts up.
When Cas stepped through the door of the diner, his arrival being accented by the shrill chime of the rusted bell over the door, Dean’s breath got caught in his throat.
It was even worse when Cas finally saw Dean and his eyes lit up, lips curving in that cute half tilt smile that made Dean want to spout poetry, or some shit. Dean waved him over, the nervous energy bubbling through him with even more force than before.
“Hey, Cas,” he greeted. For a moment Dean debated whether or not he should stand. That's what the leading men always did in old movies when their love interest walked in. Then Dean remembered he wasn't Humphrey Bogart and his life wasn't Casablanca.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas returned with a smile, sliding into the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”
Dean swallowed dryly and nodded. “Yeah, everything's fine. Why?” Quit stalling, you friggin’ coward.
Cas tilted his head, smile still on his face, but brow now quirked in curiosity. “Because you asked me to meet you here alone. And to come immediately.”
Letting out a nervous chuckle, Dean grabbed a napkin and started tearing off little pieces. Gaze now focused on his napkin destruction, Dean let out a shaky exhale and said, “I, uh… There's something I need to talk to you about.”
When Cas’s hand closed over his fidgeting ones, Dean couldn't help but look up. Cas fixed him with an understanding smile. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Dean nodded and returned the smile. “I know. I–”
“What can I get you, boys? The usual?” Bev, their usual waitress, asked. Dean liked Bev. She had a personality as big as her heart, with a take no shit attitude.
One of his favorite incidents on one of their many visits, was when a large, burly man at the counter smacked Bev’s ass as she walked by. Dean had been more than ready to defend her honor, but before he could even blink, the vivacious black woman slammed the man’s head against the counter and bitched him out. And when the owner saw what she was doing, he offered her a raise and kicked the creep out. It was one of the most badass things he’d ever seen.
Dean realized in that moment she was staring at him expectantly. Damn his internal reveries! “Yeah, Bev. That'd be great.”
She winked at him and pinched Cas’s cheek before departing in a flourish of apron and sass.
Now able to focus his attention back on Cas, Dean found himself selectively mute. Apparently he was incapable of speaking about his feelings. Thank fuck he wrote his speech on some notecards.
Dean fumbled for them and realized too late they'd gotten shuffled. Shit! Why didn't he think to number them? “You see, Cas, I…” He looked down at the one in his hand, it seemed to start somewhere in the middle. Fuck! “It's just–”
Bev suddenly appeared again, dropping a Coke for Dean and a Dr. Pepper for Cas, on their table.
Cas thanked her and fixed Dean with an amused head tilt. Ignoring his best friend for another moment, Dean kept stumbling over his words as he reorganized the note cards.
Finally, he got them in the right order and sighed in relief. Staring down at the cards, Dean started his speech, “So, the thing is... you're the best friend I've ever had and I–”
“Castiel?” A weirdly familiar voice asked from across the room.
They both turned to look in the direction of Mr. Interrupt-y and Dean shook his head. There was no way he was back. Did no one stay dead anymore?
“Balthazar?” Cas gasped out as he slipped from his seat and embraced the other angel.
“Long time no see, old friend.”
“I don't understand. I thought you were dead.” Cas drew back, his gaze entirely focused on the angel in front of him. Dean no longer existed.
Balthazar smirked. “Same could be said about you.”
Cas actually friggin’ blushed. Dean narrowed his eyes at the other angel. Despite the urge to jump up and throw the smarmy bitch out, he stayed silent and seated. Dean wasn't going to be that guy.
“It's so good to see you,” Cas gushed. Meanwhile, Dean was twisting the straw wrapper into a tight paper whip.
“I must say, the years have been good to you, Cassie,” the British bastard leered. Dean ripped the paper whip in half.
Cas gently shoved Balthazar’s shoulder. “It's good to know you haven't changed.”
Balthazar then dropped to one knee, grasping Cas’s hands in his. “I've been searching for you for years. I can't believe I've found you, so I don't want to wait another minute, Cassie. I love you. I always have. Everything I've done, good and bad, was an infantile attempt at gaining your attention. Pulling pigtails, if you will. But I'm here, hoping that even through the bravado, I reached you. That you possibly return my feelings? Even on the the most subatomic level?”
Cas appeared stunned to silence. Dean just wished he'd had the foresight to melt down a couple of angel blades into bullets. Before his righteous anger could spur him into unnecessary violence, Cas finally spoke,
“Oh, Balthazar. While I'm touched and flattered by your confession, I am sorry to say I do not reciprocate your feelings. You are very dear to me, but I've always considered you a brother in arms. A friend.”
Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the smug smile that was threatening to break through. Balthazar's dejected expression wasn't making it any easier.
With a solemn nod, the other angel bid Cas goodbye and turned away. Cas cast a sad smile at Balthazar's retreating form and sat down again. When he turned to Dean, he offered a more apologetic smile and said, “I'm sorry, what were you going to say?”
Damn. Through all of the commotion, Dean forgot he was here to tell Cas how he felt. Dean cleared his throat. “Right.” He picked up the note cards again. “I'm just gonna start from the beginning again. So, uh… the thing is, you're the best friend I've ever had and–”
In that moment Dean was, again, interrupted. This time by a sharp gasp from Cas. Turning to see what caused such a response, he saw a pretty average looking white guy standing a few feet away, by the counter. He had dark hair and blue eyes like Cas, but smaller, in width and height.
Cas slid from his seat again and the two men pulled each other into a fierce hug. When Cas drew back, he cupped the guy’s face and breathed out an awed sounding, “Inias?”
This Inias guy grasped Cas by the wrists and nodded into his palms. “It’s me, Castiel.”
“I feared the worst. It’s so good to see you,” Cas said in a tone of voice that implied he left out the word, ‘alive’.
As they continued their little catch up session, Dean tried his best to not sulk. Bev came by with their orders, a bacon cheeseburger and double fries for Dean, a cheeseburger and side salad for Cas. After dropping the plates on the table, she leaned against Dean’s side of the booth and watched Cas and Inias.
“Your fella sure is popular today.”
Dean couldn’t stop the snort of derision.
Which was met with an arch of a perfectly manicured brow. “What’s the matter, sugar?”
With a deep sigh, Dean looked over at Cas, excitedly talking with Inias. Probably about bees. That looked like his bee face. “I brought him here to confess how I feel about him. But apparently, Fate has a twisted sense of humor.” Man. They really needed to stop fucking with Fate. But on some level, Dean had to acknowledge he probably deserved this.
Bev nodded her understanding. “Alright.” With a click of her tongue, Bev stood straight, adjusted her apron, and gave Dean a wink as she left him.
“Sir, have you been helped? Would you like me to find you a table and menu?” Bev asked Inias as she squeezed herself between him and Cas.
Well, that settled it. Bev was the best waitress in the entire world. And she was going to get the biggest tip he could leave her, without flagging the credit card company.
Inias stammered and looked a little embarrassed. “Um, no thank you. I’m okay.”
As Bev sauntered off with a bright smile, Cas appeared to realize that he had, yet again, left Dean hanging. “Inias, I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I would very much like to catch up another time, though.”
“Oh, yes. I apologize,” the interloper murmured with an apologetic glance in Dean’s direction. Dean had to admit, he was pretty impressed with his level of self restraint. Not flipping the angel off and poking his tongue out was damn mature. Take that, Sammy.
“But before I leave, I just… I wanted to confess something to you. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a millenia. When all other angels were content to spend their time waiting for an order, you stood out in a sea of dull acceptance. Waiting around was never good enough for you. I always admired that about you. Your strength. Your resilience. Your bravery. I… I love you, Castiel.”
Dean leaned back in his seat and shook his head. “You gotta be friggin’ kidding me,” he murmured in amazement.
Thankfully neither angel appeared to hear him, or if they did, they were being polite and ignoring Dean. Cas gave Inias the Interloper a soft and sad smile. “Oh, Inias. I am… I am so humbled, so touched by your words. It’s just… I do not feel the same way about you. But I would very much like to see you again, catch up. As friends.”
The level of maturity Dean had reached was further solidified by the fact he didn’t make some sort of triumphant noise and start high-fiving the other patrons. Dean made sure to keep his features as neutral as possible as Inias slinked away with a dejected nod of understanding.
Cas sat back down and let out a sigh. “I apologize, Dean. What a bizarre collection of circumstances. It’s almost as though they are connected by a theme, although perhaps less thematic and more cosmic irony?”
“Yeah, what’re the odds, huh?” Dean let out a sigh and grabbed his notecards. At the rate they were going, every angel Cas had ever had contact with was about to walk through that friggin’ door and confess their love to him before Dean even got the chance. “So, Cas. What I’ve been trying to tell you is you're the best friend I've ever ha–”
“Castiel?”
Dean threw the notecards up in the air, causing them to scatter all over his seat and himself. Cas was already out of his seat as he practically ran into the arms of a young Middle Eastern guy. Kind of cute, if you liked short dudes. Which Dean did, but only one in particular.
“Hannah,” Cas gasped out.
With a frustrated sigh, Dean propped his elbows on the table and started rubbing his temples. Apparently Hannah had a dude vessel now. Was it miraculous return of dead angel day or something? He sighed again and sank back against the seat. Fuck coincidence. Fate was absolutely fucking with him.
Instead of paying them attention, Dean focused on his french fries. Or, well… he tried to . He couldn’t stop himself from mouthing along when Cas said,
“I thought you were dead.”
Hannah smiled and shook his head. “I’m very much alive.” After a soft sigh, he cupped Cas’s face and said, “Your vessel is much handsomer than I remember.”
Dean cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his food. Un-friggin-believable.
Cas chuckled and they continued to gab for another several minutes. Dean had finished his burger by the time Hannah professed his love for Cas, too. Dean looked up, nodding his acceptance to Fate. The bitch had to be watching, probably eating popcorn.
This time though, after the confession, Cas hesitated. And in that span of five seconds, Dean’s heart hammered against his ribcage in such overwhelming dread, he was surprised it didn’t pull a full on Looney Tunes on him.
“I’m sorry, Hannah, but…”
Dean didn’t hear the rest. He was jumping up and down, screaming a litany of ‘yes’s’ while shaking his hips in a victory dance. In his head, of course. Dean might be a dick, but he wasn’t that much of a dick.
When Cas sat down again, Dean was half tempted to tell him to just stay standing. There was bound to be another friggin’ confession. Maybe Crowley was back from that other dimension and the dead.
Cas chuckled and shook his head. “Again, Dean, I–”
“You apologize. Yeah. I got it.” Dean looked around, making sure no one was about to approach before he turned back to Cas and swallowed. “Look, Cas… You’re my best friend and–”
“Castiel!”
Dean tongued the side of his mouth and cracked his knuckles. He turned and watched as a handsome black man in a white labcoat approached their table. Before Cas could stand up, the man had dropped to his knees in front of him.
“Oh, Castiel. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Cas gave Dean a confused look before he turned to the guy and said, “I’m sorry, I do not remember having met you.”
“It’s me. It’s Alex,” he said, as though that was explanation enough. The head tilt from Cas solidified Dean’s theory that the dude was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Probably a prankster who overheard all of the other confessions and decided it would be funny to join in.
Dean pulled out his gun and casually aimed it in the dude’s direction. He did leave the safety on. He wasn’t a total lunatic. “That’s enough, Chuckles. Let go of my friend and walk your happy ass out of here.”
The guy’s eyes widened as he scrambled to his feet and practically ran from the diner. Almost knocking Bev over in his haste, causing her to cuss him out six ways to Sunday. Dean chuckled and turned to Cas, who appeared a little jarred.
“You okay, Cas?”
Cas nodded and took a sip of his soda. “Today has been quite bizarre, Dean.”
Dean scoffed. “You’re tellin’ me.” He sank back in his seat and couldn’t help the smile at watching Cas pick up his fork with a shake of the head, clearly trying to process everything. Just as he was pressing a slice of cucumber to his mouth, they were both distracted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Mick Davies was standing in front of their table. “‘Allo, lads. You’re lookin’ well.”
This time it was Dean who had the ‘Here’s Your Sign’ moment. “You’re alive?”
That was met with an amused chuckle as Mick shrugged. “Dunno what to tell yah’. We’ve got connections.” He faced Cas then. “Actually, I came here to talk to you, Castiel. Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that day–”
“Alright, that’s it,” Dean interrupted as he got up. He pushed the British douche towards the door. “You’re done. Get your ass out of here. The hunter network is a text away.”
As Mick scurried off, Dean turned to Cas then and pulled him from the booth. He grasped Cas by his arms and held him there. “I’m gonna just say it before anyone else–”
“Castiel?”
“Fuck!” Dean let go of Cas and turned to see who it was this time.
The man standing in the doorway easily had five inches on Sammy. He was friggin’ huge. A white guy with biceps the size of his head. Dean looked at Cas and asked, “Who the fuck is this guy?”
Cas shook his head and shrugged. “I have no idea.”
They looked at the man expectantly. He gave them a sheepish smile. “Whoops. The readers don’t know about me, yet,” he said and disappeared back through the door.
Today was, hands down, the weirdest fucking day of Dean Winchester’s life. And that list included being able to talk to animals and living a Stay Tuned situation thanks to friggin’ Gabriel. Dean cupped Cas’s face in his hands and said, “Cas. Before anything–”
“Hey, guys. Check this out,” Sam said as he approached them, holding a book.
Dean released Cas to grab Sam by the ear. “Nope. We’re done with this shit.” Ignoring the pained cries of his brother, he walked him to the door and shoved him outside. “Text me whatever you needed to show us.”
When he turned around, Dean just shook his head and shouted from across the diner, “I’m in love with you, dude.”
Everyone in the restaurant burst into a round of applause and excited cheers. Dean rolled his eyes and walked up to Cas, who was the only one who hadn’t reacted to his confession. He gently took Cas’s hand in his own and sighed. “Look…”
People were still making noise, so Dean turned and barked, “Shut up!” He was surprised it worked. Returning his attention to Cas, he smiled. “It’s cool if you don’t feel the same, I just… I wanted you to know.”
That appeared to spur Cas into action. He pulled Dean flush against him and let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head with an intensely affectionate expression. “Stupid human,” was all Cas said before he closed the gap and captured Dean’s lips in a gentle kiss.
Fuck that. Dean groaned and wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist, parting his lips to deepen the kiss. There was an element of quiet hesitation that stemmed from inexperience, but Cas quickly caught on as he completely succumbed. Dean’s tongue tingled with the sharp sweetness of the soda, intermingled with a taste that was purely Cas. He repressed another groan at all of the sensations suddenly bombarding him. It was desperate, messy, a little frantic, and the best damn kiss of Dean Winchester’s life.
It was a good day.
The End.