Love Isn’t a Memory
“My name is Dean Winchester
Sam is my brother
Mary Winchester is my mom, and
Casti–Cas, is my best friend.”
Dean popped his eyebrows high and shuffled unsure.
“Yes, that’s right,” Cas urged.
“You,” Dean said throwing a finger between them. “You’re Cas?”
Cas nodded, “Yes.”
Dean looked back and a stark vulnerability in his face caught Cas between the ribs. The low room light lit him kindly; the crows feet around his eyes were showing. Cas liked those little smile lines, liked them more everyday.
Dean scrubbed his chin. “No, that can’t be right,” he mumbled.
“That can’t be all, I mean.” His jaw jumped as he worked a timid nibble into his bottom lip, “You an’ me.”
“All?” Cas frowned, tried to seek an answer in the filtered sunlight at the motel window before he gave up and shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Are we… only friends?”
Heat hit Cas’ face in a quick bloom. “Why do you ask that?”
Dean was fixed on Cas now, face thin and brow folded. He’d just struck a nerve, and he seemed to know it.
He felt the lapel of Cas’ coat, and briefly brushed a thumb down his tie. He shook his head like he was trying to knock something loose – or knock something away, and he grabbed Cas in those wide green eyes again. “Because I feel like… it’s more than that. I feel like I look at you, and… I’m in love with you.”
Cas shied back. “Oh,” he puffed, blindsided.
It was incredible how easily an unguarded Dean Winchester managed to rip their lives open. Although, Dean had always been good at turning Castiel inside out.