freefalling is an art.

(part two)

It was fairly late when Sam got back to the motel. From the doorway of their shared room, he could discern Dean dozing off on his bed, an empty beer bottle held slackly in his hand. There were several more bottles littering the floor. It looked as if Dean had a great time with himself—or at least had attempted to try. This did not amuse Sam in the slightest. As soon as the younger Winchester stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, he picked up the television remote from atop the set and threw it at his brother to get his attention.

Dean gave a yelp as the remote just barely missed his head and slammed against the headboard behind him with a loud crash. The batteries even flew out of the case.

"Holy crap, Sam! What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean yelled, dropping his bottle and raising both hands over his face to protect himself from anymore flying objects that his brother might or might not decide to chuck at him.

Sam folded his arms and fixed his brother with a meaningful glare. "I just spoke to Cas," he huffed, as though that was all the explanation needed to justify his annoyance.

Dean lowered his hands slowly. "Oh."

"Oh? No, not oh, Dean. Seriously. Way to go." Sam looked a tad aggravated. "I think he's starting to hate himself. I swear, I have never seen an angel exhibit as much self-loathing as Cas."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam cut him off.

"First, if you recall, you used to treat him like dirt shortly after he raised you from Hell. Then, you reinforce doubt in his mind which led to him making a bucketload of sacrifices for you. And you don't even show an ounce of gratitude for that. Now, you've given him a reason to despise himself. You've turned a good angel into a horrible pessimist. Never thought I'd see the day, but right now? I am feeling so damn sorry for the guy."

Dean stared at his brother stupidly for a moment. Then: "Okay. Are you done trying to make me feel bad? Or do you feel the need to go on till I start bawling my eyes out?"

"Don't get all sarcastic with me," Sam snapped. "Just talk to him, Dean!"

"What for?" Dean countered.

"What for? You know what for!" Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. "If you don't love him the way he loves you, then just tell him already! To his damn face! Put his mind at rest so he can move on! Do you – do you enjoy putting him through this torture or something? You think he can't feel hurt? If he can love, Dean, he can bloody well hurt."

At the word 'torture', Dean grew still and deathly quiet.

"Unless you do love him," Sam went on, oblivious to how his brother's face had paled. "In which case quit running and tell him you do. And then kiss and make up, dammit. I'm tired of the two of you tiptoeing around each other. This isn't high school and you're definitely not the victim. Cas is."

And with that, Sam was done with his speech and refused to speak to Dean for the rest of the night.

Dean was left to mull over a few things as his brother got into bed and sulkily flicked the lights off. The silence was deafening and for the troubled Winchester, sleep didn't seem to want to come.

The very next day, it took Dean a grand total of two hours and a lot of resolve for him to make the five-second call (that consisted of him grunting out a tongue-tied "hey, um, can I see you for a sec?"), and just two seconds for the angel to show up at the motel. Sam had considerately gone off somewhere on his own with the Impala.

The angel was standing more than a good few feet away, leaning against the closed door leading to the bathroom. He'd taken Dean's request for 'personal space' to a whole new level.

"Hey, Cas." Dean nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he turned to face the angel fully. "I think we need to talk. Uh, can we? Talk?"

"If you wish," Castiel replied impassively, face as expressionless as ever.

Dean exhaled. Okay, at least the angel was acknowledging his presence. That was a good sign. Now for the major chick flick moment he'd been mentally psyching himself up for all of last night.

"Well, uh, first thing's first." He straightened a little and took a few experimental steps toward the angel. "I guess I owe you an apology."

"For?"

Breaking your heart. "Being the biggest dick. I didn't mean to turn you down like that. That was a low blow. I – I just…" Dean trailed off helplessly, fingers combing through his hair in frustration. "I wasn't prepared for…" He pursed his lips, stopping for a second time, then loosened a sigh as he tried to find the right words. "I'm not… not good at handling emotional situations, especially… especially with angels," he finished lamely. "I know I'm not the world's best friend, and I sure as hell don't deserve any awards for being a good lover. Honestly, I can't believe you've stuck around for so long. If I were you, I'd have given up on me ages ago and flown off to drown myself in booze and gorge on bacon cheeseburgers, or go do whatever it is that angels find fun." Dean stopped short when he realized he was going off tangent, largely due to nerves. He decided to get to the point. "Okay. You're in love. Perfectly understandable. I'm a lovable guy. Lots of flaws, made plenty of mistakes, tortured countless souls in Hell, sinned like nobody's business… okay, let's be serious, Cas, you can do way better than m—"

"Stop."

Dean shut his mouth.

"Do not talk about yourself like that. Ever again."

There was a strange feeling of warmth deep in his gut and Dean wanted to break out in hysterical laughter for some odd reason. "What? You think I'm a virtuous man, Cas? Who are you tryin' to kid, huh? Come on—"

"I never said you were," Castiel snapped, bringing Dean up short. "Don't you ever for one second think that I don't know what you are and what you've done. Because I do. I know everything, Dean Winchester. It's what makes you the only human I've come to admire and ultimately appreciate to the point of feeling some sort of affection for."

Dean was taken aback by Castiel's grim, unsmiling confession. He looked at the angel's stony face in wonder and silent contemplation.

"Are you done speaking to me?" Castiel finally said, voice smooth and hard like polished marble. His eyes were fixed determinedly on the wall behind Dean. "If you don't mind, I would like to leave."

A brush of panic spiked in Dean's mind as the angel straightened stiffly as though getting ready to vanish. It took every ounce of self-control not to just launch himself at Castiel and scream at him to STAY, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT.

"Castiel."

Castiel's eyes shot towards Dean's in an instant. That definitely caught his attention.

Dean's voice was low. "I'm not done yet. With speaking, yeah. But I'm not done with you, you goddamn son of a bitch. So…" He closed in on the angel, deliberately backing him into the bathroom door. "You're not leaving," Dean's hand shot out to clamp over Castiel's shoulder, "until I," he leaned in close, could almost hear Castiel's heart rate doubling, could feel his own triple, "do this."

He smashed his lips against Castiel's.

And in that instant, he thought to himself, oh God why didn't I do this any sooner?

All things considered, Dean felt very lucky that the angel didn't just throw him off and decide to poof away. After all, he wasn't sure the angel knew the human significance of sharing a kiss. But it seemed that Castiel did, because after the initial seconds of shock had worn off, he was kissing back. Slowly. Hesitantly. But surely.

The Winchester felt like he was going to explode on the spot. And for a suspended moment, everything melted away and was perfect.

In actual fact, the kiss lasted quite awhile. Not nearly as long as Dean would've liked, but for his very first guy-on-guy kiss, he reckoned it was good enough.

"You…" Dean was breathing hard as he pulled back. "You taste like magic."

Castiel's lips, still softly parted in awe, quirked up a bit. "You taste like a bacon cheeseburger."

Dean considered this very carefully and came to a conclusion. "I must taste pretty damn good then." He glanced down at his feet for a few moments before looking back up at Castiel. "I hope you're not still thinking of leaving?"

The angel looked abashed. "I – I think I'll stay for a bit."

Dean smirked. "That's what I thought."

"Besides, I have something for you."

Castiel reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy-looking object made of stone about the size of a book.

"Uh, what—"

"You requested the autograph of James Marshall Hendrix," Castiel reminded him, brandishing the item.

Dean's eyebrows shot up disbelievingly and he took the slab of stone from the angel in amazement. He was about to open his mouth to say something, but Castiel lifted a hand to silence him.

"Unfortunately, after going through the records and looking up all twelve hundred scrolls of 1970-related deaths to see if his name is among those who passed through The Gate, I regret to inform you that he never managed to enter Heaven."

"So Hendrix is in Hell?"

"Perhaps."

Dean frowned, then shrugged. "Well, should've guessed, what with the drinking and the drugs and the typically unhealthy habits associated with musicians. Man, really wish I'd met the guy in person, then. Had the perfect chance."

Unfortunately, Castiel didn't exactly know how to respond to that, so he kept his face carefully blank.

Dean broke into a small smile, knowing Castiel never quite liked it whenever he mentioned his stay in Hell. "Well," he waved a hand in the air flippantly, "dude could've been clever enough to outsmart the reapers, yeah? Could still be a ghost somewhere 'round these parts."

The angel nodded once, absently.

Dean looked down at the stone slab engraved with the unfamiliar signature. "So, just whose autograph did you manage to snag instead?"

At this question, Castiel locked his hands behind his back as though he were about to start rocking on his heels and carelessly whistle an innocent tune to the rest of the world. It was probably all Dean's imagination that the action alone managed to make the angel look pretty damn smug about something.

"I had to do a lot of sneaking around behind the backs of my superiors," Castiel explained, eyes hiding a smile. "But after some moments of concealed intrusion, I managed to meet with her."

"Her?"

"Your mother, Mary Winchester. She held that tablet not two hours ago."

Maybe subconsciously he already knew. Didn't stop the fact that Dean very nearly dropped the object in shock.

"Son," Dean breathed, "of a bitch." There was of magnitude of awe in his voice, in his expression, in his entire stature. For a split second in his mind, he pictured a woman in white with beautiful golden hair holding a chisel, smiling a radiant smile.

"You approve, I take it? With your use of strangely exotic colloquialisms, I find it hard to tell at times." Castiel sounded a little amused and, if at all possible, a little bit proud of himself.

Dean's eyes were now currently glued to the tablet. "Dude, I swear to God…" His voice was choked as his grip on the hard granite tightened a notch until his knuckles flushed white. "Cas, you are a friggin' angel."

"Mmm. So you've noticed. I was beginning to worry."

At that, Dean's head snapped up, just in time to catch the barely-there smirk on Castiel's face.

"Hooooly shit. Was that a— Cas, you Godsend, did you just— You did! You smug bastard!" Dean's face was exultant. "So you actually do possess a sense of humor after all. I can't believe this! Somewhere out there, Jesus must be partying hard with Barney!" He clapped a hand on Castiel's back.

"Who is Barney, exactly?"

Dean shook his head, still grinning away. "Chunky purple dinosaur who bounces and sings on TV. You gotta see him to understand."

"I see."

They stood for a moment in silence.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Thanks."

"You are most welcome."

"So how is she? Was she nice?"

"Your mother?"

"Yeah."

"She's an interesting woman. Very graceful. We had a pleasant conversation whereby she asserted that she misses you and Sam more than anything and that she is extremely proud of the both of you. Also, she thinks you're doing a wonderful job of protecting your brother and she's sure that the both of you will pull through in the end."

Dean regarded Castiel for a moment and grinned. "We gotta arrange a meeting between you and my dad next, I think," he joked. "Do the whole Meet The Parents thing."

Castiel smiled a little and Dean brought a hand up to fluff his hair.

"I know we've still got a lot to discuss, Cas. I promise you we'll sort this out. I promise. But Lucifer has to go. He's first priority. If anything, the fact that we've got things to settle with each other afterwards is an incentive to make goddamn sure we win."

-fin.

Author's note: Done. Dramatic fluffy wuff, with extra added Winchester, thanks to my sneaking Mary into the plot somehow. Even if it's just her name and… stuff. Happy Valentine's Day, all.

The Minions would've caught a couple of cunning references from The Master in this fic.

That is all. May Cupid be with you. If you have time to spare, reviews are very much appreciated! :)