Moriarty lives

For Dessy, because of reasons. <333

Just another one of the MANY ways of how I picture Destiel becoming canon.
I really apologize for my crappy English and my even crappier writing.

Vague spoilers for 8x17.

***

Dean shuts the door behind him as Cas takes slow steps further into the room, eyes moving curiously around, taking everything in, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You have your own room”, he says, low, almost reverently, as though he’s walking on sacred ground.

Dean has to swallow at the pride swelling painfully in his chest, because that’s exactly how he feels himself, the idea of his own room still nothing but awe-inspiring. “Yeah”, he murmurs, walking up to stand behind Cas.

His heart’s pounding furiously, as if trying to break free from its cage of bones, and he’s sure the angel’s super hearing must be picking it up, but Cas doesn’t say anything, so neither does Dean. Standing still, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, he waits patiently for Castiel to finish collecting every detail of his room to memory. The way Cas’s eyes sweep over the walls, trails along every last item suggests that’s exactly what he does, and Dean lets him. He’s waited a long time to show Cas his room, his home. Long, quiet, terrible months of not knowing where his friend was, or even if he was anymore.

Now that he’s finally here, Dean’s not going to complain about him taking his time.

When Castiel finally turns a little towards him, his heart skips a beat at the sight of the full smile spread across Cas’s face. “It suits you.”

Normally, Dean thinks he would probably fight back a flush at that, make some comment about not being a chick trying on dresses, here, but he’s too lost in that smile. It’s not one often seen on Castiel’s face, and it is a damn shame. If every angel of the Lord had a smile like that, halos would be redundant.

Dean returns the smile, and suddenly his hands are cradling Cas’s face as he presses their lips together.

It’s Purgatory all over again.

Cas is frozen solid against him, eyes wide, not moving a muscle, but Dean is not alarmed. He doesn’t jerk back, doesn’t apologize, because nothing about this situation surprises him. He knows Castiel just about as well as he knows himself, by now, and as far as he’s concerned they’ve wasted too much time already. He’s not backing off.

Meeting Castiel’s startled eyes, Dean soothes his thumbs along his friend’s stubbled jaw. “Kiss me back”, he murmurs against Cas’s lips, and the angel lets out a shaky breath.

"I hurt you", he says, so quietly Dean almost misses it.

Dean still feels the burn from where Castiel hit him, not in control of his actions. That moment of confusion and panic as Dean hit the floor still sends pinpricks of panic along Dean’s spine if he lingers too long on the thought, seated deep in his bones, a moment where he’d thought he’d lost Castiel all over again.

Although Castiel’s statement is one carrying heavier burdens than just that incident.

"Then kiss it better", Dean whispers.

And so Castiel does.

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