If anyone asked Dean Winchester to go stargazing a few years ago, he would've said no flat out. It wasn't his thing. Well, thenit wasn't.

But now, tonight, he and Castiel lie side by side in the grass, staring up at the deep night sky, thousands of twinkling eyes looking down at them. It's a quiet summer night, crickets chirping lowly, cool air blowing gently, and the world at peace for once. It's one of those scenes that only exists in the world of the cinema, something so perfect it has to be a dream or a fantasy or something that isn't reality. Because reality is a cruel, cold, and heartless thing, at least in Dean's world. That makes a moment like this one even more valuable, and spending it with Castiel makes it even more perfect.

"You should really tell him..."

Sam's words echo and repeat in Dean's mind as Castiel rests his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean and Castiel, though they've only dated for a span of maybe three months, have been in love for so much longer. Or it feels that way to Dean. And if it feels that way for Dean-Dean who didn't even believe in people like Castiel until he met him-it must've been a hell of a lot longer for Castiel. Castiel waited for God knows how long, and that's something Dean finds both impressive and touching.

And yet, even though Dean knows he loves Castiel, he just can't say it. It's just...not something he says. It's one of those chick flick things he doesn't do. And the few times he ever did...well they didn't end well. He didn't want this to be another bad ending, another let down, another could-have-been-lasting. Every time Dean said the L word he screwed up.

But Sam wouldn't get out of his head. Because, for the past eternity his younger brother has made Dean's love life his business. Because for once Sam wants to be super nosey instead of staying out of it like he normally does. But maybe that's because he sees the different impact Castiel has on Dean, the one that makes their relationship extra special, the one that probably had the phrases "Meant to be" and "Destined for each other" and "Match made in Heaven" mixed in. Or maybe Sam just takes advantage of having both of them around all the time and thinks that since they're all a team he should get daily Twitter updates on their progress or something.

It's been more and more frequent these past few weeks, Sam drilling Dean to no end about whether or not he's told Castiel yet. After all, they've been together a while already. They've kissed already. They've gotten...farther than Sam wanted to know already ("Next time you guys are gonna blow each other put a damn sock on the door or something! UGH MY EYES!"). So why was the magic phrase oh-so hard for Dean to say?

"He's gonna wanna hear it," Sam would say every day, using the moments before Castiel's arrival to grill his older brother, "I mean, he might be a bit of clueless, but I think he knows enough about human relationships to know he should know about saying 'I love you'. And knowing Cass, he's gonna want you to be the one to say it..."

The worst part is that Sam's likely right. A lot of the relationship's bigger steps happened because Dean initiated them. Castiel probably could take control...but it's dangerous waters for an angel who still has a few human habits to get the hang of. Dean's the obviously more experienced one and...

...And he's holding Castiel back. Because, when Dean looks over at Castiel, he can see it in his eyes. The vivid bright blue yearns for it, yearns to admit it, yearns to let words finally roll off his tongue and enter Dean's ears. But he keeps his jaw firmly locked, because what if Dean doesn't say it back and he looks like a fool? He's too hesitant, lacking the shred of assurance that would boost his confidence and let him say it.

That's it, he decides, he has to be the one to say it. And he's going to do it. Tonight. Right now. Without a moment to lose.

"Cass," He lifts his head, getting a better view of the other's face. As usual, Castiel looks positively pensive, serious, and fairly unreadable. But there's a certain softness to his features, one that Dean brings out because he is the one who comforts Castiel, makes him feel more human.

Castiel's eyes flicker away from Ursa Major and over to Dean, staring directly into the warm olive eyes. There's a gleam of hope in them, a light that ignites at the sound of that gruff voice uttering his name, and maybe, just maybe, this is the night.

"Yes, Dean?" He asks, gravelly voice smooth as pebbles in a spring.

Dean opens his mouth, but hesitation overcomes him almost immediately. No, no, saying that would be so stupid. It would be so damn cheesy. God, they were in the cliché field of stars and everything. Talk about sap and goop; some teenage girls would be sobbing their eyes out and squealing their lungs away watching this!

"Well..." He finally chokes up, trailing off as he stares deeper into the blue eyes. He's lost, lost in them, lost in thoughts, lost in feelings, lost in anxieties. He cares about Castiel yet he can't admit it. Trying makes him ill, makes him sick, even after all this time. Kisses, hugs, even blow jobs he could handle but one three-word eight-letter sentence is about to be the death of him! Shit.

While Dean struggles, Castiel props himself up, leans over, and kisses him, taking Dean's open mouth in his. One of the instinctive actions of humans, he learned, is that sometimes kisses can happen almost randomly, especially in moments of tension. They calm people down, and all he wants is for Dean to be calm. He won't be the cause of any of Dean's worry.

Dean, though surprised, kisses back, going along with it. Relief ripples through him, slightly thankful for Castiel's call. Sometimes he underestimates his ability to be a good 'human' boyfriend. But still, when Castiel draws back, he wants to know the reason for the kiss.

"What was that?" Dean blinks, licking his lips. He still tastes Castiel on his mouth, just the way he likes it.

"A kiss," He replies bluntly. Dean frowns, and he revises his answer, "To calm you."

"I'm fine," Dean grumbles, sounding much more like a huffy child than a grown man. Dean is, according to just about everyone, a perpetual five year old, "I just wanted to..." And the sickening reluctance swells in him again, "Ugh..."

"This is what I mean," Castiel shifts; turning on his side so his entire body faces Dean, "What's troubling you?"

"Nothing!" If Dean can't say it, he won't bring up that he thought about saying it.

But Castiel knows him better than that. He knows when Dean's hiding something. He's good at that. Always been, always will be.

"Dean," He speaks more assertively, not with an overbearing sense of power, but with enough to get Dean to shut his mouth and keep his eyes on Castiel. He waits a long moment before speaking again, reading the other's face, peering at his soul through the windows of his eyes.

Dean prepares for the worst because, for Dean, good things never last. And this good thing has lasted longer than most...

"You don't have to say it," Castiel's remark catches Dean off guard, making him blink wildly and stare at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

"I'm not forcing you Dean, and I don't want to," He goes on, a hand reaching out to carefully run from Dean's stomach up to his chest, "I know it's not easy for you, and I don't want this relationship or me to be a burden on you," He sighs, hand resting flat over Dean's heart. He feels the steady beat, the one he loved to listen to, the one he hoped to hear always, "That's the last thing I'd ever want to do to you..."

It takes a moment for that to register, all of that information storing in Dean's stunned mind while another task force works to make sense of it. Well this definitely isn't what he wants. He doesn't want Castiel to be sad, especially since he enjoys taking the blame for himself. No, this isn't on Castiel, this is on Dean.

"Don't talk like that," Dean says, and then quickly kisses Castiel. He's much better with actions than words and, if every kiss could pass for an "I love you", and then Dean would pepper Castiel with them and never stop. Gooey as that sounded.

The kiss ends, but they remain close, scarcely any space between their rough lips, only able to see the bright colour of the other's eyes. Their breath brushes softly against their mouths, hotter than the cooler summer night, but still so welcoming.

"I love you," Castiel lets it slip. And he doesn't regret it, either. Because Dean does give him reassurance, an excuse to be bold. His eyes, his actions, those subtleties all add up to more than just a stupid sentence. More than ten. More than ten hundred. More than ten hundred thousand.

A smile curls on Dean's face, and the nausea goes away. He may not have expected it, but he still welcomed it nonetheless. And hearing Castiel say that... Well he remembers why it was such a big deal to say it.

"I love y-" Before he can solidify the moment with a proper exchange, Castiel kisses him again. Because Dean doesn't need to say it for Castiel to know.

He knows that already.

A/N: Well that was fluffy. I write way too much Destiel fluff. But it's so addicting. Anyways, thanks for reading! Hope ya liked! Leave a review! xxoo!