Fic: Speakin' Out (1/2)
Title: Speakin' Out
Author: tolkien_fan195
Recipient: bexi_jade
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Bastardization of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales.
Spoilers: Through 6.16 (vague references to plot and characters)
Word Count: ~6,000
Notes: This was written for bexi_jade's Everlasting Birthday Challenge!!! Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing that I reference in this and I'm not making any money off it.
Prompt: Castiel is cursed mute, and the only way to break the curse is to make Dean figure out he loves him. Cas has to employ methods such as leaving love letters, baking heart-shaped cookies, and playing love songs for the oblivious hunter.
Summary: A cursed Castiel tries to lure Dean into being his Prince Charming without a voice; Dean's still stuck on the fact that Cas is playing the role of a Disney Princess.
August 21
Castiel was sulking; there was really no other word for it. He was in the backseat of the Impala, arms crossed over his chest, and a pout on his face. His head was leaning against a rain-speckled window, the cool temperature drawing his focus away from the brothers bickering in the front seat.
He never would have guessed he would have bad luck as a human- though he really should have considering the bug bite from his first stint as one- so it came as a shock that he would be cursed on his first hunt.
He had distracted a witch just as she was cursing Dean, the glass potion ball flying from her hand into Cas’ chest, it had exploded and the unexpected force had knocked him down. As soon as Dean managed to kill the last witch, he and Sam were beside him.
Dean’s immediate barrage of questions about Cas’ well-being went unanswered, but not for lack of trying. Castiel spent a good ten minutes “screaming” until his throat was dry and sore, but there was never a sound.
For the last hour the conversation had been circling: Dean told Sam Cas wasn’t ready for a hunt yet. Sam told Dean Cas would be fine. How was Sam to know it would be a coven of five witches instead of four? What good was all that schooling if Sam can’t do proper research?
If Cas still had the power to, he would have taken their voices away- stupid witches and their voice-stealing potions.
Two months of combating Dean’s “mother-hen” tendencies- down the drain.
He sighed, grateful his breathing at least still made sound.
“Got something to say, Cas?” Dean snapped, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.
Cas met his eyes briefly before shaking his head. None of the dozens of things he wanted to say would come out, even if he wanted them to.
So, Cas was spending the ride back to Bobby’s doing his best to remember the spell while simultaneously ignoring the Winchesters and the tightening feeling within his chest.
~~~
. Cas jerked awake as someone shook his shoulder. He must have fallen asleep, he realized, as he took in the sight of home.
A smile twitched on his lips, Singer Salvage yard was indeed home now. Bobby, for all his griping, had readily accepted Cas as his newest “son” when he left Heaven after the Second War.
So now, the seemingly unending string of “idjits” and “what were you thinkings” was reassuring.
Dean and Sam took off for a local library- and probably a bar if Dean’s cursing was anything to go by- while Cas stayed with Bobby for home research.
Cas leaned against the desk and placed his head in his hands. Sighing, he focused on the dull ache in his chest.
A bottle being set beside him drew his attention to Bobby. He smiled and nodded, taking the beverage happily.
Bobby sat across from him, drinking from his own bottle. “Alright, Cas, I need you to tell me everything you can about the spell and its effects.”
He gave the older hunter a dark look and Bobby rolled his eyes.
He grabbed a stray notepad and a pen, “I mean write it out.”Grabbing the pen and paper he quickly began scribbling out the details.
In the end, though, there wasn’t much: Five witches, potion ball, intended to hit Dean, voice loss.
He handed the list over to Bobby and flushed when he heard him snort.
“Great. That helps narrow things down.”
Sarcastic, Cas had learned, was Bobby’s default tone.
When Sam and Dean returned they decided to try attacking the problem again in the morning.
Castiel’s sleep was fitful, the whole night he tossed and turned- barely able to sleep for the growing pain in his chest.
~~~
August 22
The next day was spent poring over various tomes and searching the internet for any curses involving loss of voice and potions.
The list was long, and by lunchtime they knew they needed another clue to even have a hope of narrowing it down to a manageable length.
Dean grumbled as he threw a book on the table. “I’m going to make a sandwich or something.”
He left the room and Cas watched him go. He sighed before scribbling a note: ‘Perhaps we should take a break. We are all on-edge and tired.’
Bobby grunted and moved into the kitchen; Cas looked over to Sam and raised his eyebrow in question.
Sam smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry Cas, I just want five more minutes.”
Cas nodded and moved to stand when a sharp pain flared just below the ribs on his right side. He hissed and his hand flew to the area. He took shallow breaths and soon the pain ebbed but his vision was spotted.
“Cas? Are you alright?” Sam asked loudly, drawing attention from the two men in the kitchen.
There were heavy footsteps and then hands on his face, turning him toward concerned green eyes. He simply stared and continued regulating his breathing as Dean inspected what he could, one hand brushing his hair back so his eyes were visible.
His vision finally cleared and his breathing returned to normal and he nodded, hoping to convey that he was fine.
Dean turned toward Sam, “What the hell happened?”
Sam shook his head, “Dude I have no idea. He just tried to stand up and suddenly…”
He voice faded away and his eyebrows drew together. Sam’s calculating gaze looked over Cas.
“How long have you been in pain, Cas? Since you got cursed?”
Cas closed his eyes tight and tried to focus through the remaining pulse of pain and think. He nodded.
Dean’s hand on his face slid to Cas’ shoulder and gripped- hard. “Seriously? Dammit, Cas, didn’t you think that maybe that was important?”
Cas glared and grabbed his notepad: ‘As I recall I was hit and thrown by that curse. Human bodies maintain aches after such experiences.’
Dean made a few hand gestures that may have meant “I’m going to strangle you” or “I can’t believe how stupid you are,” but he moved to stand in front of the window before any words actually came out.
Sam cleared his throat, glancing warily at Dean, and began speaking. “Uh, Cas, if this pain is being caused by the curse that actually narrows the list a little more.”
He sounded hopeful, and went about clicking through the internet. His eyes went wide as he came across a page, and he appeared to be contemplating the information.
“Well that makes sense…” he said to no one in particular.
Dean turned from the window and glanced at the article Sam was inspecting. He snorted, “Really, Sammy? Getting in touch with your inner twelve-year-old girl?”
Sam wrinkled his nose, a clear “Bitch-face #42” (or, “shut up and stop teasing me, Dean”) if Cas ever saw one.
“I didn’t say anyth-”
“The Little Mermaid, Sam, come on!”
“It fits!” Sam snapped, “The pain, the voice loss- if you have a better idea I’d love to hear it.”
“How about we don’t place our money on Disney movies and keep looking.”
“Actually, The Little Mermaid was originally written by Hans Christian Andersen in Denmark in the 1800s…”
Cas rolled his eyes at their squabbling the same time that Bobby muttered “dear lord” behind him. He shook his notepad to gain their attention. When that didn’t work, he looked helplessly at Bobby.
A loud whistle shut the Winchesters up as they covered their ears.
“Alright you two, stop your bitchin’. Sam, what’s the lore on this?” Bobby had his ‘no nonsense’ voice in action, now.
Sam gave Dean a smug look before looking to his beloved Mac once more.
“There’s not much, unsurprisingly. Mermaids only exist in the Atlantic and Mediterranean- and they aren’t seen often even there.
“But the occurrence of loss of voice and sensations of pain isn’t that…uncommon. I’d have to do some deeper research.”
Sam sounded so unsure but Bobby, though understanding, simple said, “Boy, I'm giving you until the end of the day to figure this out.”
~~~
Cas helped Bobby prepare for dinner while the brothers both researched more; Sam for curse precedents, Dean for other possible curses.
Unfortunately, as the sun sank lower in the sky it became more likely that Cas was, indeed, acting out the role of Ariel in this little farce.
“Alright, go through the list of commonalities again.” Bobby said wearily.
“Uh,” Sam shuffled his notes to organize them, “Okay, so the previous cases all experienced loss of voice and constant pain that got progressively worse. Pain killers were ineffective. The survivors all swore they got their voices back after,” he grimaced, “True love’s first kiss.”
He set his notes down and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Each victim had one other similarity- some degree of unrequited love.”
“Hold on a minute,” Dean spoke, for the first time since they decided to embrace the possibility of the LMC (Little Mermaid Curse- Dean refused to call it that). “Victims? Are you telling us this thing is gonna kill Cas if he doesn’t find his…princess charming or whatever?”
Sam nodded. “Seems like it. Those whose curse wasn’t broken died at sunset the fifth day.”
Dean’s expression grew stony, “Son of a bitch.”
He stomped off into the kitchen, again, for yet another beer; though the sound of clinking glass suggested he was grabbing something stronger this time.
Cas tried to hide his grimace of pain as Dean left, but to no avail. When he looked back both Sam and Bobby were wearing pitying, knowing looks.
“Cas…is it Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly.
Terror flooded through him as his greatest secret was laid out for his family’s scrutiny. He closed his eyes and nodded.
Death was worse than being scrutinized like this…right?
Bobby sighed, “Of course it is. Christ Cas, why couldn’t it have been Sam or another angel? Hell, a demon? Dean’s the most stubborn man I know- he’s not going to believe an ex-angel loves him. He’d probably bust out the Holy Water and try to exorcise us!”
“It wouldn’t matter even if we told him.” Sam said quietly. “It has to be true love, Bobby. It has to be a kiss. And, he has to realize it on his own.”
Bobby shot him a dark look, “Say again.”
Sam looked hopelessly at him, “Dean can’t just be told, he has to figure it out and work out his own feelings. The most we can do is help Cas...hint.”
The look on Bobby’s face clearly expressed how likely he thought hinting was to get the job done.
Cas hissed and waited for the pain to pass. Finally able to breathe again, he wrote out a note.
‘I will need suggestions.’
If he was finally forced to show his hand and tell Dean about, well, everything, he needed to do it right. Or else he might die…again.
Sam looked incredibly uncomfortable as he explained a few ideas. “The key is to make Dean realize it on his own. You can’t just come out and say it- he knows about the time limit so it might not count.”
Cas nodded, the pain was greater now, but still tolerable. Dean still hadn’t returned but the clanking and banging sounds echoing from the car lot suggested he was dismantling a few junkers. The sun was setting and there was nothing more he could do tonight.
Cas scribbled another note: ‘I’m going to watch a movie.’
If a bottle of Jack went with him, no one said anything.
~~~
He was halfway through one of the five movies Bobby owned when Dean joined him. He silently filled the glass Dean extended before settling back into the couch.
Dean sat beside him, drinking silently. Cas turned to stare at him- just like he used to before he needed to blink. It hadn’t surprised him when he discovered a name for the feelings Dean inspired in him. It made sense after all; he had rebelled against his home and brothers for one person. Regardless of the outcome, he had never felt regret for doing so.
Even when Dean tried to turn away from “the plan,” Cas had fought on. The Second War caused hundreds of tragic losses, but he fought for the Earth and people Dean cared for.
Dean met his eyes; there was understanding there as he smiled tightly. “It’s what might be your last few days and you choose to watch Sixteen Candles? You’ve been spending too much time with Sam.”
Cas shrugged, it was better than a lot of the other movies he’d been forced to watch in the last six months.
Dean smirked and shook his head, his arm moved to rest on the back of the couch.
Well, if it had to happen, he might as well start now. The movie was nearing the end when he decided to go for it.
Slowly, he leaned into Dean’s side and brought his head onto his shoulder. He kept his eyes shut tight, not wanting to face the rejection and pity sure to come.
At least this way he could pretend he and Dean were like the couples in those “chick flicks” and could be this close.
At least this way the ever-sharpening pain was pushed back in his mind, behind a wall of warmth seeping into him from Dean’s body.
His heart stopped hammering when a hand ruffled his hair. Hope, agonizing hope, flooded through him.
“Don’t worry, Cas.” Dean murmured, brushing his hair a bit more. “We’ll find your ‘Jake Ryan’ before it’s too late.”
He was grateful his sob remained silent.
He let himself be lulled to sleep by Dean’s steady breathing.
~~~
August 23
When Cas woke up the next day, he was huddled on the couch under Bobby’s best blanket. Dean must have covered him up before going to his bed.
He stretched lightly and glanced out the window, he'd slept pretty late- he didn't have time to waste. Sighing he tried to roll off the couch, only to have pain shoot through him once again.
It really was getting worse. He stood, panting, and made his way to the kitchen, he leaned against the door jam, breathing heavily. He'd hoped Dean would be there, but instead Sam sat alone, looking at him with worry-filled eyes.
"Cas? Has it gotten worse?"
He nodded and shakily moved to a chair. He sat as Sam rushed to get him coffee and a piece of toast.
When he received his breakfast, he smiled gratefully before sipping some of the bitter liquid.
Sam shifted nervously, "Dean left."
Cas' face fell. Dean left? Knowing that he needed help, Dean still left?
Sam looked horrified, "Not for long! He just kind of snuck out on a day job early this morning. Bobby said he'd be back by tonight."
Cas nodded, still feeling morose. How was he to gain Dean's love and kiss if he wasn't around?
Sam, it seemed, had a plan. "We're going shopping as soon as you're ready. We have baking to do."
~~~
Apparently, the way to any man's heart is through his stomach.
This is doubly true for Dean, according to Sam.
Cas followed Sam through the grocery store, pushing a cart full of various powders: flour, baking soda, two types of sugar. And a bag of chocolate chips.
Mission: Prince Eric (Dean's name, not theirs) Step One: Cookies
They originally considered regularly shaped cookies, but both agreed Dean needed more than a gentle nudge in the right direction. This was also the reason burgers had been vetoed- despite his obvious love of them.
Sam picked out the recipe and explained how to read it. He also gave a quick tutorial on using the oven.
But that was all Cas allowed him to do before pushing him out the door- leaving him alone in the kitchen. He had assisted Bobby with cooking his first four months as a human; he could do this.
So he set about making the dough, following the recipe exactly.
Or so he thought.
The first batch of cookies he placed in the oven nearly exploded- he just managed to remove them and save a gooey mess.
What had he done wrong? Ah, baking soda; not baking powder.
He tasted the second batch of dough before daring to bake any cookies. He immediately spit it out and scrambled for a glass of water.
What the heck went wrong this time?
He read the recipe and stalled, Was “tsp” the big one, or the small one? Must be the small one since this tastes terrible.
Finally, the dough looked- and tasted- fine, and Cas attempted another batch of cookies.
He rolled out the dough and cut cookies with the pink, plastic, heart-shaped cutter.
Pan ready, he placed it in the oven and set the timer. When the buzzer went off, he removed the sheet.
Apparently he hadn't spaced the cookies far enough apart and half the cookies had baked together.
Wonderful.
Batch two didn't bake together, but they weren't finished by twelve minutes. Five minutes later, Bobby's smoke detector started beeping.
Sam came rushing into the room and removed the batteries before Cas could destroy the horrible contraption. He had to take a break then as another wave of pain hit him.
Apparently, life was determined to make him miserable.
Two burnt batches later, Cas finally had an edible looking dozen cookies.
He glanced out the window and saw the sun was setting. His heart dropped and his stomach clenched. How had an entire day gone by so fast?
He frantically began cleaning the kitchen, knowing Bobby preferred that room, at least, stay clean.
The back door slammed open and he froze.
Too late.
He turned to see who walked in; of course, it had to be Dean. Cas was covered in flour and dough, his hair was everywhere, and the place smelled like smoke.
Dean looked utterly confused; he dropped his duffel by the door and walked to the fridge. Pulling out a beer, he asked "Cas? What are you doing?
Grabbing the platter of cookies, Cas held it out. Dean eyed the cookies before smiling, "Reject cookies? Awesome!"
He took a cookie and moaned in appreciation. "Not bad, Cas. Bake more of these and even I might consider playing your 'Prince Charming.'"
He winked and left the kitchen with the cookies. Cas' jaw dropped and he sat down, he laid his head on the table and tried trying to groan.
He finished cleaning the kitchen and went upstairs. Crawling into bed, he tried to convince himself that tomorrow would work.
Continues here.
Author: tolkien_fan195
Recipient: bexi_jade
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Bastardization of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales.
Spoilers: Through 6.16 (vague references to plot and characters)
Word Count: ~6,000
Notes: This was written for bexi_jade's Everlasting Birthday Challenge!!! Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing that I reference in this and I'm not making any money off it.
Prompt: Castiel is cursed mute, and the only way to break the curse is to make Dean figure out he loves him. Cas has to employ methods such as leaving love letters, baking heart-shaped cookies, and playing love songs for the oblivious hunter.
Summary: A cursed Castiel tries to lure Dean into being his Prince Charming without a voice; Dean's still stuck on the fact that Cas is playing the role of a Disney Princess.
August 21
Castiel was sulking; there was really no other word for it. He was in the backseat of the Impala, arms crossed over his chest, and a pout on his face. His head was leaning against a rain-speckled window, the cool temperature drawing his focus away from the brothers bickering in the front seat.
He never would have guessed he would have bad luck as a human- though he really should have considering the bug bite from his first stint as one- so it came as a shock that he would be cursed on his first hunt.
He had distracted a witch just as she was cursing Dean, the glass potion ball flying from her hand into Cas’ chest, it had exploded and the unexpected force had knocked him down. As soon as Dean managed to kill the last witch, he and Sam were beside him.
Dean’s immediate barrage of questions about Cas’ well-being went unanswered, but not for lack of trying. Castiel spent a good ten minutes “screaming” until his throat was dry and sore, but there was never a sound.
For the last hour the conversation had been circling: Dean told Sam Cas wasn’t ready for a hunt yet. Sam told Dean Cas would be fine. How was Sam to know it would be a coven of five witches instead of four? What good was all that schooling if Sam can’t do proper research?
If Cas still had the power to, he would have taken their voices away- stupid witches and their voice-stealing potions.
Two months of combating Dean’s “mother-hen” tendencies- down the drain.
He sighed, grateful his breathing at least still made sound.
“Got something to say, Cas?” Dean snapped, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.
Cas met his eyes briefly before shaking his head. None of the dozens of things he wanted to say would come out, even if he wanted them to.
So, Cas was spending the ride back to Bobby’s doing his best to remember the spell while simultaneously ignoring the Winchesters and the tightening feeling within his chest.
~~~
. Cas jerked awake as someone shook his shoulder. He must have fallen asleep, he realized, as he took in the sight of home.
A smile twitched on his lips, Singer Salvage yard was indeed home now. Bobby, for all his griping, had readily accepted Cas as his newest “son” when he left Heaven after the Second War.
So now, the seemingly unending string of “idjits” and “what were you thinkings” was reassuring.
Dean and Sam took off for a local library- and probably a bar if Dean’s cursing was anything to go by- while Cas stayed with Bobby for home research.
Cas leaned against the desk and placed his head in his hands. Sighing, he focused on the dull ache in his chest.
A bottle being set beside him drew his attention to Bobby. He smiled and nodded, taking the beverage happily.
Bobby sat across from him, drinking from his own bottle. “Alright, Cas, I need you to tell me everything you can about the spell and its effects.”
He gave the older hunter a dark look and Bobby rolled his eyes.
He grabbed a stray notepad and a pen, “I mean write it out.”Grabbing the pen and paper he quickly began scribbling out the details.
In the end, though, there wasn’t much: Five witches, potion ball, intended to hit Dean, voice loss.
He handed the list over to Bobby and flushed when he heard him snort.
“Great. That helps narrow things down.”
Sarcastic, Cas had learned, was Bobby’s default tone.
When Sam and Dean returned they decided to try attacking the problem again in the morning.
Castiel’s sleep was fitful, the whole night he tossed and turned- barely able to sleep for the growing pain in his chest.
~~~
August 22
The next day was spent poring over various tomes and searching the internet for any curses involving loss of voice and potions.
The list was long, and by lunchtime they knew they needed another clue to even have a hope of narrowing it down to a manageable length.
Dean grumbled as he threw a book on the table. “I’m going to make a sandwich or something.”
He left the room and Cas watched him go. He sighed before scribbling a note: ‘Perhaps we should take a break. We are all on-edge and tired.’
Bobby grunted and moved into the kitchen; Cas looked over to Sam and raised his eyebrow in question.
Sam smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry Cas, I just want five more minutes.”
Cas nodded and moved to stand when a sharp pain flared just below the ribs on his right side. He hissed and his hand flew to the area. He took shallow breaths and soon the pain ebbed but his vision was spotted.
“Cas? Are you alright?” Sam asked loudly, drawing attention from the two men in the kitchen.
There were heavy footsteps and then hands on his face, turning him toward concerned green eyes. He simply stared and continued regulating his breathing as Dean inspected what he could, one hand brushing his hair back so his eyes were visible.
His vision finally cleared and his breathing returned to normal and he nodded, hoping to convey that he was fine.
Dean turned toward Sam, “What the hell happened?”
Sam shook his head, “Dude I have no idea. He just tried to stand up and suddenly…”
He voice faded away and his eyebrows drew together. Sam’s calculating gaze looked over Cas.
“How long have you been in pain, Cas? Since you got cursed?”
Cas closed his eyes tight and tried to focus through the remaining pulse of pain and think. He nodded.
Dean’s hand on his face slid to Cas’ shoulder and gripped- hard. “Seriously? Dammit, Cas, didn’t you think that maybe that was important?”
Cas glared and grabbed his notepad: ‘As I recall I was hit and thrown by that curse. Human bodies maintain aches after such experiences.’
Dean made a few hand gestures that may have meant “I’m going to strangle you” or “I can’t believe how stupid you are,” but he moved to stand in front of the window before any words actually came out.
Sam cleared his throat, glancing warily at Dean, and began speaking. “Uh, Cas, if this pain is being caused by the curse that actually narrows the list a little more.”
He sounded hopeful, and went about clicking through the internet. His eyes went wide as he came across a page, and he appeared to be contemplating the information.
“Well that makes sense…” he said to no one in particular.
Dean turned from the window and glanced at the article Sam was inspecting. He snorted, “Really, Sammy? Getting in touch with your inner twelve-year-old girl?”
Sam wrinkled his nose, a clear “Bitch-face #42” (or, “shut up and stop teasing me, Dean”) if Cas ever saw one.
“I didn’t say anyth-”
“The Little Mermaid, Sam, come on!”
“It fits!” Sam snapped, “The pain, the voice loss- if you have a better idea I’d love to hear it.”
“How about we don’t place our money on Disney movies and keep looking.”
“Actually, The Little Mermaid was originally written by Hans Christian Andersen in Denmark in the 1800s…”
Cas rolled his eyes at their squabbling the same time that Bobby muttered “dear lord” behind him. He shook his notepad to gain their attention. When that didn’t work, he looked helplessly at Bobby.
A loud whistle shut the Winchesters up as they covered their ears.
“Alright you two, stop your bitchin’. Sam, what’s the lore on this?” Bobby had his ‘no nonsense’ voice in action, now.
Sam gave Dean a smug look before looking to his beloved Mac once more.
“There’s not much, unsurprisingly. Mermaids only exist in the Atlantic and Mediterranean- and they aren’t seen often even there.
“But the occurrence of loss of voice and sensations of pain isn’t that…uncommon. I’d have to do some deeper research.”
Sam sounded so unsure but Bobby, though understanding, simple said, “Boy, I'm giving you until the end of the day to figure this out.”
~~~
Cas helped Bobby prepare for dinner while the brothers both researched more; Sam for curse precedents, Dean for other possible curses.
Unfortunately, as the sun sank lower in the sky it became more likely that Cas was, indeed, acting out the role of Ariel in this little farce.
“Alright, go through the list of commonalities again.” Bobby said wearily.
“Uh,” Sam shuffled his notes to organize them, “Okay, so the previous cases all experienced loss of voice and constant pain that got progressively worse. Pain killers were ineffective. The survivors all swore they got their voices back after,” he grimaced, “True love’s first kiss.”
He set his notes down and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Each victim had one other similarity- some degree of unrequited love.”
“Hold on a minute,” Dean spoke, for the first time since they decided to embrace the possibility of the LMC (Little Mermaid Curse- Dean refused to call it that). “Victims? Are you telling us this thing is gonna kill Cas if he doesn’t find his…princess charming or whatever?”
Sam nodded. “Seems like it. Those whose curse wasn’t broken died at sunset the fifth day.”
Dean’s expression grew stony, “Son of a bitch.”
He stomped off into the kitchen, again, for yet another beer; though the sound of clinking glass suggested he was grabbing something stronger this time.
Cas tried to hide his grimace of pain as Dean left, but to no avail. When he looked back both Sam and Bobby were wearing pitying, knowing looks.
“Cas…is it Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly.
Terror flooded through him as his greatest secret was laid out for his family’s scrutiny. He closed his eyes and nodded.
Death was worse than being scrutinized like this…right?
Bobby sighed, “Of course it is. Christ Cas, why couldn’t it have been Sam or another angel? Hell, a demon? Dean’s the most stubborn man I know- he’s not going to believe an ex-angel loves him. He’d probably bust out the Holy Water and try to exorcise us!”
“It wouldn’t matter even if we told him.” Sam said quietly. “It has to be true love, Bobby. It has to be a kiss. And, he has to realize it on his own.”
Bobby shot him a dark look, “Say again.”
Sam looked hopelessly at him, “Dean can’t just be told, he has to figure it out and work out his own feelings. The most we can do is help Cas...hint.”
The look on Bobby’s face clearly expressed how likely he thought hinting was to get the job done.
Cas hissed and waited for the pain to pass. Finally able to breathe again, he wrote out a note.
‘I will need suggestions.’
If he was finally forced to show his hand and tell Dean about, well, everything, he needed to do it right. Or else he might die…again.
Sam looked incredibly uncomfortable as he explained a few ideas. “The key is to make Dean realize it on his own. You can’t just come out and say it- he knows about the time limit so it might not count.”
Cas nodded, the pain was greater now, but still tolerable. Dean still hadn’t returned but the clanking and banging sounds echoing from the car lot suggested he was dismantling a few junkers. The sun was setting and there was nothing more he could do tonight.
Cas scribbled another note: ‘I’m going to watch a movie.’
If a bottle of Jack went with him, no one said anything.
~~~
He was halfway through one of the five movies Bobby owned when Dean joined him. He silently filled the glass Dean extended before settling back into the couch.
Dean sat beside him, drinking silently. Cas turned to stare at him- just like he used to before he needed to blink. It hadn’t surprised him when he discovered a name for the feelings Dean inspired in him. It made sense after all; he had rebelled against his home and brothers for one person. Regardless of the outcome, he had never felt regret for doing so.
Even when Dean tried to turn away from “the plan,” Cas had fought on. The Second War caused hundreds of tragic losses, but he fought for the Earth and people Dean cared for.
Dean met his eyes; there was understanding there as he smiled tightly. “It’s what might be your last few days and you choose to watch Sixteen Candles? You’ve been spending too much time with Sam.”
Cas shrugged, it was better than a lot of the other movies he’d been forced to watch in the last six months.
Dean smirked and shook his head, his arm moved to rest on the back of the couch.
Well, if it had to happen, he might as well start now. The movie was nearing the end when he decided to go for it.
Slowly, he leaned into Dean’s side and brought his head onto his shoulder. He kept his eyes shut tight, not wanting to face the rejection and pity sure to come.
At least this way he could pretend he and Dean were like the couples in those “chick flicks” and could be this close.
At least this way the ever-sharpening pain was pushed back in his mind, behind a wall of warmth seeping into him from Dean’s body.
His heart stopped hammering when a hand ruffled his hair. Hope, agonizing hope, flooded through him.
“Don’t worry, Cas.” Dean murmured, brushing his hair a bit more. “We’ll find your ‘Jake Ryan’ before it’s too late.”
He was grateful his sob remained silent.
He let himself be lulled to sleep by Dean’s steady breathing.
~~~
August 23
When Cas woke up the next day, he was huddled on the couch under Bobby’s best blanket. Dean must have covered him up before going to his bed.
He stretched lightly and glanced out the window, he'd slept pretty late- he didn't have time to waste. Sighing he tried to roll off the couch, only to have pain shoot through him once again.
It really was getting worse. He stood, panting, and made his way to the kitchen, he leaned against the door jam, breathing heavily. He'd hoped Dean would be there, but instead Sam sat alone, looking at him with worry-filled eyes.
"Cas? Has it gotten worse?"
He nodded and shakily moved to a chair. He sat as Sam rushed to get him coffee and a piece of toast.
When he received his breakfast, he smiled gratefully before sipping some of the bitter liquid.
Sam shifted nervously, "Dean left."
Cas' face fell. Dean left? Knowing that he needed help, Dean still left?
Sam looked horrified, "Not for long! He just kind of snuck out on a day job early this morning. Bobby said he'd be back by tonight."
Cas nodded, still feeling morose. How was he to gain Dean's love and kiss if he wasn't around?
Sam, it seemed, had a plan. "We're going shopping as soon as you're ready. We have baking to do."
~~~
Apparently, the way to any man's heart is through his stomach.
This is doubly true for Dean, according to Sam.
Cas followed Sam through the grocery store, pushing a cart full of various powders: flour, baking soda, two types of sugar. And a bag of chocolate chips.
Mission: Prince Eric (Dean's name, not theirs) Step One: Cookies
They originally considered regularly shaped cookies, but both agreed Dean needed more than a gentle nudge in the right direction. This was also the reason burgers had been vetoed- despite his obvious love of them.
Sam picked out the recipe and explained how to read it. He also gave a quick tutorial on using the oven.
But that was all Cas allowed him to do before pushing him out the door- leaving him alone in the kitchen. He had assisted Bobby with cooking his first four months as a human; he could do this.
So he set about making the dough, following the recipe exactly.
Or so he thought.
The first batch of cookies he placed in the oven nearly exploded- he just managed to remove them and save a gooey mess.
What had he done wrong? Ah, baking soda; not baking powder.
He tasted the second batch of dough before daring to bake any cookies. He immediately spit it out and scrambled for a glass of water.
What the heck went wrong this time?
He read the recipe and stalled, Was “tsp” the big one, or the small one? Must be the small one since this tastes terrible.
Finally, the dough looked- and tasted- fine, and Cas attempted another batch of cookies.
He rolled out the dough and cut cookies with the pink, plastic, heart-shaped cutter.
Pan ready, he placed it in the oven and set the timer. When the buzzer went off, he removed the sheet.
Apparently he hadn't spaced the cookies far enough apart and half the cookies had baked together.
Wonderful.
Batch two didn't bake together, but they weren't finished by twelve minutes. Five minutes later, Bobby's smoke detector started beeping.
Sam came rushing into the room and removed the batteries before Cas could destroy the horrible contraption. He had to take a break then as another wave of pain hit him.
Apparently, life was determined to make him miserable.
Two burnt batches later, Cas finally had an edible looking dozen cookies.
He glanced out the window and saw the sun was setting. His heart dropped and his stomach clenched. How had an entire day gone by so fast?
He frantically began cleaning the kitchen, knowing Bobby preferred that room, at least, stay clean.
The back door slammed open and he froze.
Too late.
He turned to see who walked in; of course, it had to be Dean. Cas was covered in flour and dough, his hair was everywhere, and the place smelled like smoke.
Dean looked utterly confused; he dropped his duffel by the door and walked to the fridge. Pulling out a beer, he asked "Cas? What are you doing?
Grabbing the platter of cookies, Cas held it out. Dean eyed the cookies before smiling, "Reject cookies? Awesome!"
He took a cookie and moaned in appreciation. "Not bad, Cas. Bake more of these and even I might consider playing your 'Prince Charming.'"
He winked and left the kitchen with the cookies. Cas' jaw dropped and he sat down, he laid his head on the table and tried trying to groan.
He finished cleaning the kitchen and went upstairs. Crawling into bed, he tried to convince himself that tomorrow would work.
Continues here.