but i'm singing like a bird about it now [ch: six]

They don’t leave the bunker aside from meal runs for days, but Cas is becoming amazed at how Dean is quite affectionate in public. He’s taken to reaching for Cas at all times like a fish to water. Dean doesn’t seem to be bothered at all when the occasional person looks at them with curiosity or disdain. It’s a far cry from what Dean is like when they’re alone, which Cas can’t help but see as strange. They still haven’t fulfilled the requirements to perform the grace kisses effectively because they still haven’t had penetrative sex. Dean always finds something else to do or wants to service Cas’ member.

A few times, Cas has been able to turn the tables and Dean does tend to enjoy that but he kind of shrinks after, which feels...foregoing. Really the problem is Dean hasn’t really dealt with his shame the way he thinks he has and it’s starting to cause a strain. One time in particular Cas was lapping lovingly at Dean’s hole and it was exceedingly clear that Dean was enjoying himself but he said through a moan, “We can stop, if you want.” 

Cas would have laughed if he didn’t know Dean, instead he said, “But Dean, you’re beautiful like this, you’re enjoying it.” Dean was just trying to rob himself of vulnerability and Cas was starting to take note of it. “Don’t hide behind what you think I want, I want you to be free, Dean,” and simply went back to lapping. Dean stuttered something but gave in eventually and was almost uncharacteristically open and wanting. But then he was ashamed and sullen looking afterwards which was starting to bruise Cas’ ego, he could admit. After some prying, Dean revealed that he so wished to be wanton and without care, that he was working through some “hangups” and didn’t want Cas to feel alone in the experience so he’d work on it. He wanted to be like the song they had heard in the diner that one time, the song by Hozier. But it would take some time and maybe some coaxing but that Cas shouldn’t feel obligated to help at all. Dean didn’t want to put that burden on Cas.

Naturally, Cas has decided he would help anyway, so he picked up the movie Moonlight to watch with Dean and gauge his reactions so a real conversation can be had. Cas had done his research and even visited a university in the Northeast with a syllabus section in Queer Theory on queerness and imposed shame, Cas went to the office hours of one professor, a wonderful older Black queer person, who pretended to believe Cas was actually auditing their class and discussed Tarrell Alvin McCraney’s larger body of work and the implications of Moonlight as his adapted-to-screen play. They even let him watch some of McCraney’s other stage plays. He told Dean he had “angel business” to attend to, or moreso that when Dean asked he let him assume that’s what it was, which Cas supposed was a justified lie of omission that bought him time. 

Sam and Eileen eventually came by the bunker and loaded the place with groceries and rare snacks from surrounding states but left soon after, mentioning something about going to visit as many hunters as possible. A road trip? Dean didn’t seem too pleased but Jack assured them that they would watch over Sam and Eileen even though they established a hands-off policy with most other humans. Jack figures it’s okay to have favorites and that includes their family, and Cas is trying to be okay with that. It allows Cas to go to heaven should he meet his demise and not to the Empty, so that relief is enough of a reason to at least see what Jack’s praxis of favoritism looks like. If it needs course-correcting later, Cas will be there. 

Truly his only worldly concern is Dean and quite honestly Cas likes it that way. Dean is already a piece of work, as of late: he is not letting Cas heal him. Well, specifically little cuts and his shoulder bruise. The bruise on Dean’s shoulder leaves Cas feeling guilty when he looks at it a little too long. It’s in the same location his first mark on Dean was, and it just keeps getting more blue and black and purple and now yellow? Dean seems to want it though. He looks at it in the mirror like a badge of honor and Cas really wishes he wouldn’t. It isn’t a “hickey” and it wasn’t done in love, lust, or any good emotion; it was trepidation and anxiety. Cas is just glad it won’t be on Dean permanently. Though Dean did joke that he would get the handprint tattooed on the same shoulder— in the palm he’d put the technical last words Cas had said to him before he thought the Empty would take him. Cas was not too happy about that. 

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Dean feels like he’s moving forward with him and Cas with the right amount of awkwardness. Even if some random person occasionally looks at them with an expression that makes Dean feel sick, he knows he has to handle it with a high chin and broad chest, for Cas. He doesn’t know if Cas has ever been this public and he surely wants to make sure he feels as comfortable as possible. Stigma be damned. Dean’s used to looks, he’s willing to fight for Cas. Luckily, he doesn’t have to; he’s convinced Cas is death glaring at people when he’s not looking with his angel eyes or something. Either way Dean is having the time of his life trying to make the angel happy. They slow dance, Dean watches Cas paint, he’s baking again. He just...isn’t quite sure if he’s doing it right and if he can do it forever and, if not forever, for how long? It doesn’t mean he hasn’t already bought a ring while Cas was on his angel business. Though, it’s burning a hole in his pocket the longer he keeps it. He’s starting to feel wrong for keeping it a secret even though that’s the whole shtick of it.

 Dean did some research too, he learned that he is what the kids call “aromantic” and it’s actually not just for the kids. That part was comforting. He knows that Cas likes romance as a demisexual person and all the research makes it seem like ace and aro spectrum people can have fulfilling relationships together. The difference is, those people had time to figure themselves out and probably have a lot less to “unpack” than Dean. Dean’s kind of jealous of whoever wrote these websites and posts. Dean being “allosexual” as it’s written is a mixed bag and he’s gone quite a long time without hookups so this is gonna be fine but if he can’t get the romance stuff down pat this could mean losing Cas, he thinks. Cas still looks at him like the last treasure on earth and Dean doesn’t wanna lose that so he starts googling and with his ADHD brain one thing leads to another: it’s how he found the phrases “love bombing” and “trauma bonding” and a few hours after that he’s convinced himself he’s been abusive to Cas and Cas doesn’t really love him and when Dean finally fixes himself Cas will rise up and leave.

Which is how Cas finds him having a panic attack of his own in the library and after many forehead kisses and a shot of grace later, he and Cas are on a drive to clear his mind. Which would have been great except it’s storming and Baby decided to be dramatic so they’re stuck on the side of the road 37 miles from home and Cas refuses to zap them back until Dean “communicates.” Dean’s already feeling prickly in the face and heavy in his gut but is determined not to yell at Cas, ever again, and to keep his emotional outbursts in check. Even if Cas has to leave and find someone better.

“Dean, I don’t understand why you can’t just be honest about how you feel, it’s just me.” Cas can be heard over the rumbling of the beating rain but his voice is smaller than it should be.

“Exactly, it’s you, Cas. If I tell you , what will you think of me ?” Now that Dean thinks about it, maybe withholding the fact that he’s an abuser is abuser shit. 

“What? Dean, I’ll think what I already think of you. What are you talking about?” Cas’ voice has a tinge of annoyance but it’s more so confusion. Like Dean’s a bad joke.

“But you’ll leave!” Damn, if he was really trying to change, he’d just let Cas go now...

“I won’t, I don’t have to,” Cas says obstinately.

Poor guy, Dean never gave him a chance. 

“You’re supposed to...you have to...you should--you shouldn’t have to put up with me.” Dean is starting to cry. If only he were out in the rain, it wouldn’t look so conspicuous, but it’s obvious now. 

“Says who, exactly?” Cas says, softer now. Like Dean’s something fragile.

“Says you shouldn’t have to put up with abuse!” Dean relents, his heart feeling like rotting wood. 

“Dean Winchester, if you don’t start explaining whatever the hell is going on in your head, so help me Jack, I will throw you out of this car, into the mud, and throttle you.”

“See? You learned that from me! Not only am I not romantic enough for you, I also taught you violence solves problems.” Cas looks at him like Dean was suddenly walking with his hands.

“Dean, I—I’ve killed everything under the sun before and for you. Before I met you, I led an entire army of angels. All we’ve done the past decade or so has ended one life or another. What the everloving hell are you talking about? And what do you mean you’re not romantic, you’re plenty romantic. You cook for me even though I don’t eat, you always want to be the one to wash my hair, you touch me even when there’s no particular reason, you like kissing me and you smile at me like I bring you the sun every morning—which I would, should you ever ask. I’m not only confused by this approach but also deeply concerned with your overall sense of self, Dean. Would you like to talk to someone? A therapist perhaps.” Cas’ face is bordering on desperate for purchase.

Dean feels like a school kid talking to his principal. This is awful and not at all how he thought this would go.

“Okay...okay, look, first off, none of those things are romantic, they’re just…they’re just things, Cas, and okay fine, maybe you were already rough and tumble when you got here, man. But I’ve been doing research and—”

“Poorly.” Cas interrupts, his nose is flaring, and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears but he’s angry. 

Dean’s lost the plot. “What?” 

“Dean, when I said everything you do is for love, that’s my definition of romance. Why are you suddenly fighting how I feel? Why are you questioning your own love for me? You randomly do some half-assed research and suddenly think you’re abusing me? Over what?” Dean takes it back, maybe he doesn’t like a spicy rhetorical angel. “Just because you think your love isn’t good enough or isn’t shaped the way you want it doesn’t mean I don’t cherish it, Dean. Please. These walls you put up...to—not to enjoy us fully...they don’t...stop you from throwing love over the barrier, I still feel it. But you’re shocked when I fly over and hand you some of  my own. I just wish you would take them down, for me, please.” Dean already felt like shit but this has everything rearranging too fast to know why he feels worse. 

“But…” All the internet words are swimming in his head too fast to explain to Cas what he means. He thinks maybe he should just let them die in there. Cas looks like his heart is breaking knowing that Dean even thought to bring it up. How does Cas put up with him? “Then why do you put up with me?” Oh, well that’s one way to ask. 

“Were we not in the same dungeon, Dean? Have my words escaped you? Weren’t you planning on getting them tattooed? What has gotten into you?”

“The internet.” Dean says, sheepishly. Defeated. 

“Oh, Dean.” Cas all but collapses into Dean’s arms like a powered down robot. “Please tell me you haven’t just been clicking random phrases—”

“And just following where they go? Kinda.”

“ For the love of…Dean… Dean.” Dean has never hated his name more. Cas is saying it like he kicked a bunny. 

“It felt...valid at the time, man, I’ve done some fucked up stuff.” Dean chuckles wetly, sniffling.

“But Dean, I’ve chosen to absolve you of all of it. Have you forgotten we’ve both almost ended the world? Not to mention the times it was your brother. This is just how we move, it doesn’t make you an abuser, it makes you human with a great weight you should have never had to bear. You’re not a monster, you deserve peace and protection . Love, my love. Forever. And I know you want it, Dean, you can’t take that knowledge from me and the internet can’t tell you that.” Something fast goes across Cas’ face. “Don’t you?” He’s starting to wipe Dean’s tears as they continue to fall. 

“I do.” Dean shifts uncomfortably forwards and towards Cas and feels the ring like an earthquake in his pocket. Cas clutches him right back.

“I mean, Dean, what if I decided to click hyperlinks and come to the conclusion you wouldn’t want to be with me because people on the ace spectrum allegedly don’t ever have sex and you could never, as an allosex — .”

“No, no, but Cas, that just isn’t true, and what I did to you—”

“Dean, I’ve done worse! Why do you always think you’re the only person who has made mistakes between us?” Dean doesn’t have an answer to that that won’t make him want to jump out of his skin. “I can only forgive myself and hope my love can pour over you in a way that helps you forgive yourself too, Dean. I know I have. I know you deserve it. You put up with me, too. What if I played this same sick joke?” Dean can barely breathe.

“Cas...I...it’s not a joke, man, I really feel like I’ve...I’ve done wrong by you. And...and you’re wrong, I would never stop loving you just because you didn’t want sex every two seconds or somethin’, you’re just...you’re enough, man. You’re not broken, you're not wrong, you’re good. I love you as is, I’m the one who needs fixing.” And this last thing Dean believes above all else, it’s true. I could look at you for centuries and never tire of you, you will never not be enough.

“Then love me to fix it,” Cas says, shakily, gently shaking Dean. “Love me through all the ways you want to be better. Don’t self-flagellate and make me watch you hurt yourself like I asked for it. It’s not funny and it hurts, Dean. To know you’ve gone through so much and voluntarily put yourself through more. I hate that John taught you that. If you want to bring up teaching people things, we should start there.”

There’s the dagger; Dean doubles over into Cas and can’t hold back the tears any longer. He cries, really, he wails, and if Cas hadn’t cloaked him in a hug, it’d have been embarrassing. But Cas never lets him go through anything alone, he won’t, not anymore. Dean knows that now, he can’t just hate himself without cause anymore. The angel in his corner won’t let him; Cas thinks he deserves love, and will give it freely, as long as he puts in the effort to love himself too. That’s good, right? He’ll stay while I do the fixing, and be good to myself. I just gotta find a way to stay good to him. They sit like this for as long as Dean’s back can take. Cas makes him sit up and offers his grace to heal his back and Dean refuses, he doesn’t want Cas to make him a project anymore; even if Cas doesn’t think he’s trash, Dean wants to fix himself. 

“He…” Dean’s trying to find the words to absolve John and he can’t find them, not like he could ten years ago. He’s hoping this doesn’t make him go “nonverbal.” In his research he learned that’s the name for what happens to him when things get too intense with his feelings. Not that he even wants to, it’s just an old reflex. But he can’t find the words to hate himself either, it’s like Cas just dug them out and football-punted all his ammo. He doesn’t want Cas in any more distress and really he should just let this die just so he doesn’t have to defend John, and end up hurting himself. “I...Cas...I don’t wanna talk about him. Or what he made me. Or what he taught me, man. I just...want to be better. And I hear you, I gotta be nicer in my head about me. But...I don’t...I need...time...to process... this, all of this, I feel like I’m gonna crawl out of my skin right now, man.” The rain is picking up and it’s starting to thunder. 

“Let’s get in the back, we’ll do some grounding techniques,” Cas says casually, cleaning up his face and beginning to crawl into the back seat. It’s like he just switched to caretaker at the drop of a hat. 

“Huh? How do you do that?” Dean says in a daze. He’s feeling almost shell-shocked, all that heart talk was like an electric current through the body. Maybe I should lay down, yeesh. 

“Do what?” Cas asks as he drops his knee over the bench and plops his bottom into Baby’s backseat. He lightly taps his thighs as if to beckon Dean into his center. Dean follows immediately. He doesn’t realize he’s moving until he is almost halfway over the bench. Damn, this angel has me whipped. Dean shakes his head playfully.

“How do you just turn into this nurturing ball of caring when just two seconds ago you looked like I ripped your heart out?” Dean plops ungracefully into Cas’ lap and smiles apologetically but lets himself be readjusted just to feel where Cas wants him close.

“I learned it from you. Maybe all along you were the angel on my shoulder.”

“Oh, hush.” Dean’s cheeks can hardly stand this blush. Cas pushes him down onto the leather so that now they're horizontal, pulling Dean on top of him and applying pressure the way Dean’s brain registers as grounding. Wrapping an arm around the middle of his back and another up to the nape of Dean ‘s neck, splaying fingers as he reaches Dean’s hair to hold his head; he instantly feels like he’s morphing into putty. He hums, pleased. 

“I raised you from hell, rebuilt, and planted you in dirt. Dirt angel.” Cas rationalizes while kissing the top of Dean’s head. 

“No, oh geez, please stop,” he murmurs, muffled by Cas’ pullover. 

“No. Nope, you’re my dirt angel. Dirt Angel Dean.” Dean’s beaming but hiding from Cas’ gaze. 

“Oh nooooo.” 

“Say it.” Cas says, pushing his face out of its cradle to make Dean look at him. “Say you’re my dirt angel.”

“Oh, C’mon Cas. Don’t—” Cas finally succeeds in bringing Dean’s eye line into focus. 

“Dean. Say it to me.” Cas absolutely levels him with a look, eyebrow cocked, eyes full of both love and authority. Something deep in Dean, quivers.  

“I’m…” Dean swallows, lost in the dedication and tenderness Cas is offering. “Yours.” He manages while trying to duck out of sight, Cas holds him firm. “Dirt Angel, I’m your dirt angel.” Cas wipes the influx of tears that accumulate the longer he holds Dean’s gaze.

“And a good man.” Cas says, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “My hero, even.” Dean chuckles, Cas mirrors the mirth. I could play that sound as a lullaby. Dean closes his eyes and lets the walls down simultaneously the rain, the feelings bleed, the cuddling, Baby’s back seat: prime ingredients for a nap, and all things he’s going to allow himself to enjoy. He's giving himself internal permission, mindfully, consciously, for Cas, for himself—finally. “Can I visit you? While you dream? I can make one just for us.” Cas asks, rubbing circles over Dean’s back.

“You can do that?” Dean has no clue what possibilities have opened up in being loved by an angel.

“You’re my beloved.” Cas assures as if this was common knowledge. Dean chuckles. 

“Have at it, man,” Dean says, mostly in jest, but he blinks and is transported into a field. An autumn wind hits him the way he loves but it feels like spring otherwise. In front of him is the lip of a lake that surrounds a forest. It’s beautiful; none of it makes sense. Something large, eldritch, rocket-sized but shy walks into his purview and suddenly shrinks into the trees when it’s clear Dean sees it. Dean searches for the presence even as he takes in Cas, as soon as he blinks. 

“Where is this? Did you see that? What was that? Am I sleeping?” Dean is peeking over his shoulders as he hugs him close, not sure what to make of the space. Everything is overly familiar and at once foreign.

“Uhh, yes, you are experiencing sleep and we’re in your dream. I made it from bits and pieces of your memories, and, it’s uhm, that was me.” Before Dean could ask Cas to show him his true—

 “I made you a house,” Cas says as he looks around, not nervously but in anticipation. Dean is damn near vibrating with joy. He’s never felt this light or loved before. The brims of his eyes are more than damp as he takes in this world his angel made for him.  “It’s made up of all the things you like about the houses you’ve ever entered, uh, I think, if I did it right anyway. Your interior tastes are particularly impartial which I can imagine could be from not having had a stable—”   Dean is kissing him, hard. And in one motion they’re falling onto a memory foam bed. They’re breathless when they part.

“I love you like this, letting me love you,” Cas says, seemingly to himself. Rubbing Dean’s arm and shoulder. “I just wish you’d just let me—” 

“Uh uh, don’t even think about it. Not even in your dreams.” Dean can hear Cas grumbling and beginning a ‘but Dean’ response. “Nuh uh, you just went through this whole thing about you not feeling fragile and that I don’t abuse you so why can’t I keep my bruise?” 

“Because, Dean, I don’t desire to feel like I abuse you either.” Dean hadn’t considered he might be putting Cas through the same torture he was putting his own head through. He keeps his head tucked hoping to hide his face.

“Do you know why I was appointed the title the Angel of Thursday?” Dean shakes his head lightly, starting to feel his throat not cooperate. “I was made to beget and endure violence without shame. That is the day that was designated Thor's day. The Norse god of thunder. I am designed to fight and win. Thor's Day but also Vishnu’s. So I’m telling you now, Dean, if we ever really fought I'd have buried you wherever you stood. Let's not test that, stop forgetting I’m an angel in a human body. You will never even get to hear my true voice as it would burn out your eardrums. Don’t ever forget that this body is a courtesy. I made myself small when that's all I could do for you. Or when you pissed me off, all I wanted to do for you. And remember when I was almost God?” Dean considers that for a moment and grunts. “Abusers should be held to account, wasn’t there a time I could have spilled your blood and healed you back to life? Give me a reason to think I couldn’t think the same self-destructive thoughts you have. But I had to forgive myself, Dean, so I could love you better. I always have been and always will be the Angel of Thursday. But even still...I adore you, Dean. I always tell you this: you are good. Even getting to know you in what to me is seconds in relationship to my eons of existence is truly temporary, but to know you is to love you, Dean: permanently. I built you, I would know.”

Dean's heart can’t get any bigger or warmer in his chest. “Damn, man. You make me sound like I’m friggin' Hercules or something.”

“Perhaps, you are seemingly much closer to being Achilles, he was a bit of a stoic himself. I heard he also had moments of selective mutism.” 

“No, but Cas, I...Cas, you didn't build me that way, I—I’m not perfect. Even things you build can grow and, and, a—I’m gonna learn to do right by you, man.”

“Dean, we both broke ourselves for each other and roughed each other up. But we don’t have to do that anymore. Consider Chuck being gone, this little dream world, our new lease on life, our second chance to be this as just one long love letter; for you to be as good to me as possible and vice versa. Even though I know you’re good, have at it, and I’ll surely do the same...just so we don’t end up at a test of wills over this, my love. I’m just not entertaining that you’re abusive and don’t want to argue with you over it every day or any more.” Cas takes a moment to breathe and stroke Dean’s hair. “But I have boundaries, Dean, standards. Since you’re working on interpersonal stuff, I would really like it if you’d considered working on getting rid of your self-loathing too.” Okay, rude callout but okay. Dean maneuvers to look at Cas, and Cas begins again quickly, to explain. “I- I can’t just make you not hate yourself, Dean, and I can’t make you not embarrassed about your own desires but...it hurts me.” Dean can’t stop his face from crumbling before he can think to mask it. Cas tries to comfort him as he watches the change hurriedly. “It’s just that it's off-putting, Dean, as I work though my identity, being gay, so if you’re not letting me love you fully as a man through this vessel or limiting you loving yourself, it affects me too.  Just know that my trueform is extremely complex, Dean; you never ever actually hurt me.” 

Dean interrupts, ”But I know I crossed human boundaries, Cas, we didn't have any...I don’t know,  safe words or something; sometimes I was just violent and downright mean.“

“And I forgive you, “ Cas says immediately, like he anticipated this. “Past, present. And I know you know there will be no violence in the future. Just love me into the future, Dean, please.” Dean never thought he’d have so much to unpack from an angel-infused dream. Cas is right, with their love, he almost always is. Dean is thinking about the ring. He takes a breath to center and declares:

“Yeah, okay, Cas...okay. Okay, let me prove it to you then. That I’m on my way to better already. Let’s do that kissing contract, the grace kissing. Let’s start exchanging that energy. I’ll take you in. Without shame.” Cas looks at him considering, he probably thinks I’ll renege later, I don’t blame him, “I’m serious, Cas. No takebacks. We’re moving forward, I’m moving forward with you. Forever. I meant that too.” Cas shakes his head slightly.

“Dean, I don't want to hold you captive ; you can change your mind. You have freedom to change your mind. I just want you to know that. I want to love you freely and in a way that is freeing for you.”

“Then that’s what I want, for as long as you’ll give it. I...really really love you, Cas. I hope you feel that, man. I know I don’t say it often but...I’m gonna get there. I know loving you won't make you leave. So...not here in dreamland, in real life, when I wake up?”

“In the Impala. Baby?” 

“What better place for our first time, man? The glove compartment has what the situation calls for,” Dean wiggles his eyebrows. 

Cas chuckles, “Alright. However, your body is sleeping and I do think you need more rest, Dean, I have no desire to wake you up.” Dean considers whining to get Cas on board. “But…,” Cas says, saving Dean’s dignity, “We can still be close, intimate...here...now.” 

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Cas is reveling in this new open and honest Dean, he loves it. It’s mana, it’s myrrh, it’s filling and open to receiving. It’s honey, ambrosia, it’s the essence of the finest liqueur. Dean even explained the reason he leans towards “bottoming.” Cas actually really loved the “secret” analogy. It felt precious to him, like Dean himself. Dean seemed to appreciate Cas saying to him after the explanation that he would love to keep his secret like an oath proudly. 

“Look at us, we’ll be a regular coupla gossips,” Dean said with love in his eyes. Cas was able to pleasure him for hours, paying close attention to his secret, his tender space. And Dean finally relented, and let himself fully feel and experience bliss. He laughed, he cried, he unraveled like a luscious lotus in perfect condition. His personal Rose of Jericho. On par with everything else Cas’ green thumb can touch and help grow. And when they woke up, he was the same way; that made Cas cry. Something holy was created there in those special moments. 

When Sam came back nothing changed, and it just kept getting better. Jody, Claire, Garth, all their chosen family members came by and were just so happy for Dean and that warmed Cas’ heart as much as it spurred Dean on. No matter how he faltered he kept trying and kept trying to be internally kind. He was truly a blessing.

One day he tells Dean, “ It’s like the song, you know.” They had been fooling around and Dean kept sharing the same grace kiss over and over again. “That Hozier song,” Cas hedged. 

“Oh, that Hozier one right? How I was laughing and crying our first time?  How at the end you asked me ‘is it good? when it feels free?’ and I started singing it.” Dean has a fit of giggles and starts to sing:“'Yeah, that’s the kinda love I’ve been dreamin’ of!’ man, we’ve never laughed that hard before. Who woulda thought between the two of us, laughing sex was the first kinda sex we had?” 

“Our rendition later on was horrible. Oh geez.”

“You liked the way I called you honey though, that’s how you got your nickname.” Cas smiles fondly and hums in agreement. He asks playfully, “What was it again? Say it? I forget.”

“Honeybee,” he says low in Cas’ ear, kissing his temple.

''Oh, honeybee, right, that is so true.” Dean kisses his forehead and nose in quick order. “Mmmmhhh, yes, I am indeed your honeybee, my dirt angel.” Cas snuggles in and kisses Dean with his whole heart.