No Place I'd Rather Be

I walked into the library where Sam and Dean were busy sifting through books and old parchments. They were always searching for something on how to kill the latest creature they had come across. I wondered how they could spend so much time reading, breathing in the musty stale air of the bunker. Hours they'd spend in this place. I found it a bit boring, but, nevertheless, I stayed. Any time I could be within the same proximity with Dean, it was enough.

Lately, we hadn't had much time together, just the two of us. The latest challenge to arise had me a bit wary. Crowley had asked Sam and Dean for help, but that wasn't what I was worried about. True, Crowley was not to be trusted, but I could easily keep an eye on him. The reason Crowley had come to Sam and Dean in the first place was what had me on edge. Something very strange was happening where demons were disappearing … not dying, but vanishing without a trace. I could feel something changing in the atmosphere. There was wickedness brewing, but it was different from anything I'd ever felt before, and by now I was an expert on the matter. Whatever it was, it wasn't common to this earth. There was a shift in the world, maybe even in dimensions. Crowley was right to be concerned.

For now, though, I would wait and see what the guys came up with, allowing myself the time I needed to trail Crowley, which had been absolutely nothing so far. It was a nice break to be able to sit back and watch for a while. I'd been in a bit of a funk lately, as the humans put it. Ever since coming to earth, I'd felt myself changing, adapting to the ways of humans, learning about life and love, and what it meant to be responsible for not only me, but for those who counted on me. I was learning what it meant to be there when I was needed, to unselfishly put others before myself, and to make myself available, not only to the cause, but to Dean as well. That had been the most difficult, yet satisfying challenge for me so far.

I'd felt a spark from the first moment I met Dean. Well, to call it a meeting would not be an accurate description. I saved him from the bowels of hell, but that's another story for another time. Anyways, I rescued him from the underworld, risking my own existence in the process. If Dean hadn't had the will to live again, I might have been trapped in hell too. But the moment I grasped him, I felt something unique. Dean was a fighter. He had an extraordinary will not only to survive, but to thrive. I'll never forget the feeling, for I never wanted it to end, and I thought, how amazing that humans could be like this. It wasn't until later that I realized this quality was unique to Dean Winchester, but as soon as I did, I was drawn to him in ways I never knew existed.

My self-discovery took a while to come about, though, and I kept my feelings buried deep where no one could sense them. And then, one day I was free of my burden, and I dug up these past tendencies, only to find myself hesitant to make them known. Dean and I had formed a close bond as human and angel, and as friends. We had learned to depend on one another, and the last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable in any way. Of course, it wasn't always like this. We had our challenges, and we'd gotten lost along the way, but in the end, we always came back to each other.

We were together now, and I was content. I was always content when I was in his company. It felt natural to be Dean's lover, and when we were alone, I had hardly a care in the world. But when we were apart, my mind started conjuring up questions. Was I making the right decision to allow myself the freedom to experience such strong human emotions? So many of my brothers and sisters looked down on me for my past mistakes. Falling for a human would make matters worse. I shouldn't have cared, but I did, and I wasn't sure why. I just kept thinking that there was something very important waiting for me at the end of this long journey, but was it Dean or was it something else? I did not know. And if it wasn't Dean, what would happen to us? What would happen to him? You see, this is what I had to deal with when I allowed my mind to wander.

Dean threw down the book he was reading, leaned back in his chair and stretched out his arms. "I've been at this way too long. I need a break."

Sam rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I agree with you on that one. Hey, you wanna go do something? It is your birthday, after all."

Dean's birthday? I wondered. I had no idea. We'd never spoken of it before, but I never thought to ask either. Angels didn't celebrate birthdays. We were created not born.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, you know me. I'm not into all that birthday hullabaloo crap. It's just another day, Sammy," he said solemnly.

"Alright, man. Whatever you want. I think I'm gonna head out for a jog, clear my mind, get some fresh air," Sam said, getting up from the long table in the library, and heading off to his room to change into something called a jogging outfit. I couldn't understand what joy it gave someone to run on purpose. It just made the heart race, the body sweat and made breathing erratic. Actually, it was a lot like sex, which I would choose over jogging any day.

"I didn't know it was your birthday, Dean," I said when Sam left the room.

"No big deal."

"But I thought humans liked to celebrate the day of their birth."

"Yeah, when you're like five. Look at me, Cas. I'm thirty six, I basically live in a glorified cave when I'm not traveling the country, and I hunt monsters for a living, which, by the way, has lousy pay," Dean complained.

I walked over to him and started massaging his shoulders, loosening the tightened muscles. "If you could be anywhere but here right now, where would you go?"

Dean smiled slyly over his shoulder. "Does being in bed with you count?"

I couldn't help but blush. "No, that doesn't count. It has to be somewhere besides the bunker."

"Ok, how about that motel in town, the one with the Jacuzzi in the room … and you naked in it," Dean said again, trying to make me blush even more. It worked.

"No sex related places. I'm serious, Dean. Where would you rather be?" I edged on, wanting to know what interested him. His life revolved around hunting and saving the world. We hadn't had any time to discuss personal interests, besides our interest in each other.

"Well, let's see," Dean thought hard, as though he couldn't remember the last time he did something 'just because'. There was never time. "How about fishing."

"Are you choosing that because you would really want to do it, or are you just humoring me?" I said suspiciously. Knowing Dean, he would say anything to end the subject and get back to business.

"No, I'm being honest. I remember one time, when I was just a kid, my dad actually took me out to do normal father/son stuff that didn't involve the business. It was fun, and I always wished I could do it again."

"Fishing," I pondered. "Alright then. Fishing it is." I grasped Dean's shoulder and we were off.

Next thing, we were standing on a dock overlooking a lake so still it looked like a mirror. It was surrounded by trees, a very secluded spot, I thought. The sound of cicada bugs buzzed all around, and the air was scented with the fresh aroma of pine. The sun shone just over the treetops, warming our faces. I closed my eyes and smiled, absorbing everything into my senses.

"Cas, what the hell?" Dean complained, breaking my meditation.

I slowly opened one eye and glanced at him. "You don't look happy."

"There's work to do, in case you've forgotten."

"But it's your birthday. You deserve some time to yourself, away from the job and the bunker, and all those dusty books and scrolls. I happen to know it is not good for the respiratory system when you constantly breathe in the–"

"Alright, what's going on with you?" he asked determinedly.

"The problem with you, Dean, is that you can't take something at face value. Nothing is 'going on' with me. I simply wanted to give you something for your birthday, and since I'm still learning about these human celebration days, I thought it would be best to let you choose something of your liking." I spoke a little harshly, but at times, that was the one way to get through to a Winchester.

Dean palmed the back of his neck, and looked out across the lake. "I'm sorry, Cas. It's just, well, I don't celebrate my birthday. I never have, really."

"Not even as a child?" I inquired.

He became silent and glanced down at a tackle box beneath a bench. Someone had left it here, I guessed. With his head down, he answered me. "Not since … my … mother died."

"Oh," I whispered. So that was it. "Perhaps this was a bad idea."

"No, it's not," he rushed to say. Dean grasped my arm to gain my attention. "Hey, I like that you wanted to do something special for my birthday. It's been a very long time, that's all."

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my lips. "Good," I said, gazing into his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen, wide and round, long lashes, green like leaves in the spring, made even more stunning with flecks of gold. And when he smiled, really smiled, the corners would crinkle with true joy that I could see all the way down to his soul.

We shook ourselves from our trance, and broke contact. Dean gave in and sat down on the bench. "Alright then, since we're here, let's see what we have." He reached under the bench and slid the tackle box out, opening it carefully. I took a seat next to him and watched.

Whoever this box belonged to, he was an avid fisherman. There was every type of lure inside. Some looked like colorful fish, others were just silver and black. Some had a large spoon on the front end, and some had two parts to their body. Then, there were rubber worms, and tiny frogs, short fat fish or long skinny minnows. The choices were plentiful.

"Geez, I don't know what to use. I only fished that one time," Dean commented.

"Well," I started, pointing at the different lures as I explained. "That one there would be best for catching bass, and these here are for trout. Catfish, of course, are bottom feeders. They'll eat just about anything, which I never understood why people like them so much, especially when they basically feed on garbage. Did you know that what a fish eats greatly affects the flavor of that fish?"

Dean laughed and the sound made my heart swell. "How do you know about any of this?"

"I have a bit of knowledge about fishing. I used to participate in the sport before coming to earth."

"You have fishing in heaven?" Dean asked, confused.

"Not exactly. It was someone's heaven. See, everyone has a different kind of heaven, usually being a memory that the person likes to revisit often. There was an elderly man whose heaven was a house that sat on a lake. I liked to visit his heaven. It was very quiet and peaceful there, much like this place." I looked off into the distance as I fondly remembered. "He made his own lures, a very talented man. Anyways, I would sit and watch him for hours. He had a different fishing lure for every kind of fish he could catch."

"You never cease to amaze me, Castiel," Dean said, gazing upon me for a moment before returning to the lures. "This is great and all, but … I'm not so sure I want to stink of fish."

"Where would you rather be, then? We don't have to stay here. Just say the word, and we can go somewhere else." I got the sense that he was trying to get out of this altogether, but I wasn't ready to give up on making him happy for this one day. "You look hungry. How about we go to a burger joint. I know of a place that says they have world famous burgers."

Dean laughed at me, and I didn't understand why. "They all say that, Cas, but there was this place in Missouri that had the best burgers–"

"Let's go," I interrupted, taking him by the wrist. In an instant, we were standing outside of a diner, a long slender building, the exterior decorated in chrome and neon.

Dean looked up at the red flashing sign that simply said, DINER. "How did you know this was the place?"

"You mentioned it once a long time ago," I said prosaically. He looked a bit befuddled. "Don't you know, Dean, I hear everything you say, and sometimes I keep information tucked away."

"Ok, that sounds a little creepy."

I smiled. "I just mean I remember things because I never know when I'll need to refer back to it."

We entered the diner and looked around. The inside reminded me somewhat of the inside of a train's diner car, but much wider … and a restaurant. There was a counter and round padded stools running along the length on one side, and booths covered in red and white vinyl on the other. The ceiling was outlined in red neon lighting, with chrome ceiling tiles, and the floor was black and white checkers, like a chess board. The walls were decorated with records and posters from old sci-fi movies. There was a jukebox lined with more neon lighting, playing a song about great balls of fire that I didn't quite understand. I must have looked confused, because Dean leaned into my ear.

"That's Jerry Lee Lewis, you know, fifties rock and roll. A little out of genre for the music that I like, but still a great song for its time. The man was insane. Did some really crazy shit back then. Hell of a piano player though."

I was intrigued. "Why were his balls on fire?" I asked. It seemed like an odd thing to sing about publicly.

Dean laughed out loud, tears almost forming. When he finally contained himself, he explained. "It's just a song about a guy who is crazy in love. I don't know about his balls being on fire, but I know how it feels to want someone so bad that your whole body burns."

I gave that some serious thought for a moment, and then it struck me. "Oh, you mean lusting for someone or, as you say, having a boner."

"Alright, you need to stop or I'll have to take you out back and–"

"Welcome to The Diner," said a waitress in a pink poodle skirt and a white blouse that had one too many buttons undone, her cleavage pushed up to show off her perky breasts. "Sit anywhere you like," she smiled. "And just so you know," she said directly to Dean. "I work the back half of the place, booth side." She gave a ridiculous wink, and then her eyes scanned him from chest to crotch as she bit her bottom lip before walking back to the counter.

"I believe she likes you," I said as a jest.

Though I knew Dean was not interested, he was still good at flirting with women. It was like a game to him, and he usually ended up with something for nothing. I already expected that he wouldn't pay for half his meal.

"Come on, let's sit in the very back," he suggested. There was a half round booth in the corner with a little more privacy than the others.

We had a seat and the waitress came back around with menus, but Dean already knew what he wanted, ordering a bacon cheeseburger, medium with everything, an order of fries, and a vanilla milkshake. Then she looked at me, and I shook my head. "Nothing for me, thank you."

"What? You need to eat something, especially if you want to grow up big and strong like your friend here," she smiled at Dean.

Knowing that I, as an angel, didn't eat, Dean spoke up for me. "He can have my shake," he said with a wink.

"Alright then," she responded. "Oh, looks like your ketchup is almost empty. Let me just . . ." She leaned across the table, practically shoving her breasts in Dean's face. Then she came back nice and slow, eyes burning with desire. I thought he would look uncomfortable, but he smiled with his eyes, giving the waitress some kind of temporary satisfaction, and she left to turn in our order to the kitchen.

I laughed to myself and looked up through my lashes to Dean sitting across from me. "Does she make your balls feel as though they are on fire?" I jostled.

He grinned and shook his head. "I expect it was a woman like that who inspired ol' Jerry Lee to write that song."

I smiled and laughed. Humanity was amazing at times. There were so many different emotions that led to so many kinds of outcomes. As an angel, I'd always been told how I was supposed to feel about certain things. A woman like our waitress would be looked down upon. They'd think she needed some form of rehabilitation to get her back on the straight and narrow path. I used to think that way too. I would have felt bad for her, embarrassed even, and I'd look away and think, what a shame. Now that I'd lived on earth for so many years, and I'd seen all the different types of personalities, I didn't see things this way anymore. People were much more complicated than one might think. This woman was flirting shamelessly, but not because she was a lost sheep. It was part of who she was, outgoing, not afraid to let anyone know what she thought or felt. It didn't mean she was a bad person. In fact, looking a little deeper into her soul, she was a very good person. When she was not working at the diner, she cared for her young son who had Down syndrome. She was flirting because she'd been lonely lately, and she wondered if she was ever going to fall in love, and marry a good man who would take care of her and her child.

"Hey, you in there?" Dean said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yes … sorry … did you say something?"

"You were a million miles away just now. Everything alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I was just . . ." I stopped mid-sentence when something caught my eye. "Look over there," I said, nodding to a booth closer to the front of the restaurant. Dean glanced over his shoulder. There were two young men, one with blond hair and another with brown, sitting next to each other in their booth, shoulders touching, whispering and smiling to each other. "Are they like us?"

Dean swiveled around to face me again. "It appears so. Cute couple."

"And this is acceptable?" I wondered. I'd never seen another gay couple behaving so openly in public before. I had become so used to Dean and I having to hide our relationship that I assumed everyone did.

"Well, there are those who still look down their noses, but for the most part, people are ok with it."

About that time, the waitress came back with our food. "I've got a bacon cheeseburger for James Dean, and a vanilla shake for Dick Tracy. Can I get you boys anything else?"

I stared at her in confusion. "Who?" I started to ask, but Dean interrupted again.

"We're good, thanks."

"Alright hon, enjoy," she cooed, her hand lingering on Dean's shoulder before she left to take care of another table.

He picked up a fry and waved it at me. "Are you jealous?" he asked, but I could tell by his tone that he was only teasing me.

"She's no threat. Besides, she wants you for more than just a one night stand. She's hoping you'll fall madly in love with her, marry and accept her little boy as your own son."

"Wow, Cas, you really know how to kill the mood."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did she put you in the mood?" I was still going along with the banter.

"See, I knew you were jealous." He laughed and pulled the milkshake over to him, sliding the straw very seductively between his lips that were now wrapped around it, sucking so that his cheeks drew in. I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat.

"What's the matter, Castiel, your balls on fire?" he said, licking his lips.

Among other things, I thought to myself, but I didn't say it aloud. Instead, I smiled and pointed to his plate. "Eat up, James." And that reminded me. "Who is James Dean anyways? And who's Dick Tracy?"

Dean finished his meal. We paid the bill and left the diner. "Where to now?" I asked him.

"Back to the bunker. There's still–"

"Certainly you don't want to go back already. Think, Dean. Where else would you rather be?"

He gave me a slightly annoyed stare, but reigned himself in. "Alright, well, let's see. Usually after a good burger, I like to have a drink, maybe play a little pool."

"Any place in particular?"

"Nah, anywhere will do."

We went around the corner of the diner where we were out of view. I took Dean by the arm, but as I was about to take us out of there, Dean pinned me against the building, and kissed me with heated abandon. His body contoured against mine, and his hips gyrated slightly. He released me and looked me deep in the eyes. "I've been wanting to do that for hours now," he whispered. Then he pulled away from me, straightened the lapel of my coat and pushed my hair across my forehead. "Ok, let's go," he said. I wondered how he could be steamily hot one moment and nonchalant the next, able to turn on a dime, leaving me engorged in a delightfully painful state of arousal.

I transported us to a random bar on the corner of Anywhere and Who Cares. It looked decent enough from the outside, but you never knew what the clientele was like once you entered a place. There was a bar with stools on one side, tables and chairs on the other. Further into the bar, there was a stage and a band just beginning to set up their equipment. In front of the stage was a wooden dance floor. A long bar with more stools separated the entertainment area from the pool tables. People could play and watch the band perform, I thought. The walls were painted black, covered with posters advertising various types of beer and booze, and lighted signs depicted beer bottles or mugs foaming on top. There were a dozen pool tables with about half of them occupied. Men and women played and laughed. Waitresses ran between the bar and the patrons, carrying trays of alcohol, chicken wings and other types of food in one hand, and in the other, large plastic pitchers of beer.

We stopped at the bar first, and Dean ordered a beer. "You want anything?"

I didn't really, but I knew I must blend. "I'll take a beer."

Dean nodded, knocked on the wooden bar to gain the bartender's attention, held up his forefinger. The bartender, understanding Dean's gesture, pulled a brown bottle out from under his work area, dripping with ice and water, opened it, handed it to Dean and held his hands up showing all five fingers on one, and one finger on the other. Dean pulled money out of his pocket and handed it to the bartender. The bartender nodded and went back to his other clients who were sitting at the bar. Dean and I walked into the pool table area and picked a place to claim as our own. His movements were so smooth and swift. I could tell that he'd spent a lot of time inside of bars. I imagine he'd been coming to establishments like this one since he was old enough to drink, maybe even sooner than that. He had the right body language, knew where things were and how the system worked. I loved watching him when he was in his element. He exuded a kind of confidence that was contagious, and it made me hunger for him.

He took a drink from his bottle, grabbed the beer from my hand, and set both down on a shelf next to our billiard table. "Ever played pool before?" he asked.

"I've watched before," I said.

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he was taking down two cue sticks from a rack. "Let me guess, you used to watch a man in heaven, whose idea of eternity was playing an unending game of eight ball. Probably a pool shark."

"I don't know what that is, but it sounds dangerous," I said.

Dean smiled again. Obviously I'd made another silly comment without my knowledge. It was so difficult to learn these strange terms. "Well, they can be dangerous, especially if they catch you trying to hustle them."

"I'll make sure to never do that." I still had no idea what he was talking about.

"Ok, the game is simple," he explained, taking a triangular object and gathering all the colorful balls inside it. "I'll break and that will determine whether you're stripes or solids." He lifted the bracket and all the balls stayed in their formation. Then he picked up a white ball and set it on the table away from the others. Dean leaned over the table, cue stick in hand, sliding it along the opposite hand. He punched the white ball with the stick and it slammed into the colored balls, sending them flying in all directions across the table. A solid dark red ball with a number seven on it rolled into one of the corner pockets. "Looks like I'm solids."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that I must only sink solid colored balls, and you can only sink the striped ones. Now, you don't want to sink the black eight ball until you've gotten rid of all your striped balls. Same goes for me with the solid ones. And whatever you do, don't sink the white one. That's the cue ball, the one you use to hit the other balls with."

I was lost halfway through the rules, and I guess it showed on my face because Dean gave me a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, I'll guide you through. We're just playing for fun anyways."

"Don't you always play a game for the fun of it?" I wondered.

"Most of the time, yeah, but if you are really good at it, you can make money. That's how Sam and I got by a lot of the time, playing pool, hustling guys, taking their money so we could eat and have a roof over our heads."

My heart went out to Dean. He really had gone through a lot during his life. "Sounds like a tough upbringing."

He shrugged his shoulders and lined up the white ball for another shot. "We did what we had to do. We still do. It's never been easy, but it's the only life we've ever known."

"Don't you ever want to stop, to settle down and feel secure?" I asked.

"All the time," he said quietly. "But I don't think that's in the cards for me." I noticed that the last shot ended with a solid ball not falling into the pocket. Dean stood straight and came to me. "I've got you, though, and that's something." He was standing close to me when he said it, the words gliding across my neck, giving me goose flesh. He was right. He did have me, but for how long? Now was not the time for doubts. "You're turn."

"Oh, right."

Dean helped me line up some hits, giving me a few extra turns for practice. I wasn't very good at this game, and I didn't think I'd ever excel at it. What I did like about it was having Dean stand so close to me that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. A couple times, I felt his hand brush over my hip or my arm. It was very discreet and very seductive, and I think he meant for it to be that way.

At one point, I had forgotten that we were in a place with other people, and when I paused to look around, I noticed a group of middle-aged men watching us interact. They didn't look too happy. As a matter of fact, they looked rather disgusted. One of them was approaching us. "Dean," I said quietly, and he looked up and over to the man. Dean stood up straight, posturing defensively. "Can I help you?" he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My buddies and I are here to enjoy some billiards, and we'd appreciate it if you two would tone it down," the man said.

"Tone it down?" Dean said with a pugnacious stare. "Were we too loud or something? I'm confused."

Another man, taller and uglier than the first, came over to Dean, looking down at him. "What my friend's trying to say is that we don't need to see you two acting like a couple of queers. We find it offensive."

"I'm just trying to show my friend how to play a game of pool. That's all," Dean said defensively.

"You're practically dry humping your boyfriend here," said the very tall Viking of a man.

"I think you're exaggerating, but I have to ask. Why are you so into watching a couple gay guys playing pool?" Dean responded. I didn't like the tension building between them. This was not going to end well.

"Why you son of a bitch," the tall man seethed.

"I knew they was queer the moment I saw them," said another man from their group. "This ain't no fag bar fellas, so why don't you take your girly asses out of here, and let the real men play a little pool."

"It's a free country," Dean said back at them. "My friend and I are staying."

I clapped a hand on his arm. "Dean, maybe we should go."

"No, I'm not going anywhere. We were here first." As he spoke, the men went back to their table, but Dean wasn't finished. "Besides, I don't listen to pussies."

That did it, and the whole group of about six lumberjack looking men started towards us. "What'd he call us?" one said.

"The only pussy around here is the one between the waitress's legs or that one there in the trench coat," said another.

"Hey!" Dean shouted. "Don't you talk to him like that … dick."

After that, I wasn't sure what happened. Fists flew, chairs were knocked over, my cue stick was yanked from my hands and wound up broken into two halves on the floor. Dean was doing well fighting these guys off by himself, but I thought he could use a little help. I honed in on my angel skills, and pushed a couple of the men across the room. I sometimes forgot my own strength, especially in a dire situation like this, and I might have pushed them a little too hard, sending them flying through the air only to crash into the bar at the foot of the dance floor. They struggled to get up, but once they did they were marching towards me. They each took a turn trying to punch me, but my reflexes were fast and they missed. I punched them, though, knocking them unconscious. I looked around, and Dean was fighting the tall man. He'd taken a couple hard blows to the face. I could see Dean's eye was swelling, and there was a cut just above his eyebrow that was bleeding profusely. By now, the bar owner was coming over to end the fight.

"I've called the cops on you assholes. Break it up or you're going to jail," the owner warned.

During a lull in the fighting, I grabbed Dean by the arm and pulled him away. "Let's go," I said, and I helped him out of the bar. There was an alley around the corner, and I led him there. I didn't look back to see if anyone was following us. I just needed to get us out of there as fast as possible before Dean decided to go back and finish fighting. Once we were hidden in the darkness, I transported us out of there. It all happened so fast, and suddenly we were back in the bunker again. "Why on earth would you want to pick a fight with–" I stopped when I realized that Dean was laughing.

"What is so funny?" I said, annoyed.

"Oh man … I haven't had that much fun in a long time," he said catching his breath and slurring his words.

"I don't understand your concept of fun. Look at you. Your face looks like it's gone through a meat grinder," I complained.

"Yeah, I know. Isn't it great?" he said deliriously.

"You should never have started something with those guys," I berated.

"Well, I wasn't going to let them get away with insulting us."

As we talked, I went into his bathroom and wet a towel, bringing it back to Dean. "You're a bloody mess," I scolded as I started blotting at the blood.

He jerked away. "Ow," he complained.

"Serves you right, you know."

"You think you could . . ." He made a gesture with his hand, waving it in the air.

"You want me to heal you?" I asked, and he nodded, looking irritatingly handsome. "I should let you suffer," I grumbled, and he did that thing with his eyes where they crinkled at the corners, and the green of his iris penetrated through me. He even went so far as to make his bottom lip protrude slightly into a pout. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Fine, come here."

Dean took a step closer to me, and I laid my hand on his head. He closed his eyes as light started to emanate from my palm, and the healing began. In no time, his wounds were gone. When I was done, I continued wiping the blood from his face.

"It's been a long time since I did something just to have some fun. As a matter of fact, the last time I remember doing anything just for the hell of it was that time I took you to that brothel. Remember?"

"How could I ever forget?" I put the towel on the table and thought about that time.

"Sam and I had split up. You were chasing down that angel douchebag. We thought it was your last night on earth."

"I thought I was going to die," I said. "And you came up with the brilliant idea to take me to a house of ill repute."

"Well, in my defense, that was back before either of us … knew certain things about each other." He paused to laugh. "I got you to admit you were a virgin, and like any good friend would do, I was not going to let you die without popping your cherry. Maybe if I'd known you were into guys, I would have taken you to another place."

"I don't think I knew about my preference back then either," I admitted.

Dean nudged his shoulder against mine. "You remember that chick I handed you over to?"

I smiled at the thought. "I remember. You know, her name wasn't actually Chastity."

"Uh, yeah, kind of figured that out," Dean said mockingly.

"Her real name is Emilia. After I … made her run away crying … I always wondered what happened to her. I checked in on her a couple years ago. She not a courtesan anymore. Now she works as a secretary at a car dealership."

"That's good to know," Dean said. "Guess that experience with you helped her to straighten out her life."

"Yes, but not completely," I said sadly.

"What do you mean?"

"She's been sleeping with the owner of the dealership … a married man."

"Well, you tried, Cas, and that's all you can do." Dean took my hands in his. "You know what else I remember about that time?" he said seductively.

"I do," I whispered. "That was the night I kissed you. And then you ran off."

"Yeah, well … it was unexpected. I mean, there you were just leaving a brothel, and suddenly you're admitting that you're attracted to me."

"It was a confusing time. You said so yourself," I reminded him.

"It was, but I soon realized that there was one thing that I was never confused about, and that was my feelings for you. I knew, even back then that I wanted you, but I was scared because of everything that was happening, and you're an angel and all."

"Yes, having the Apocalypse knocking at your door does seem to throw a wrench into your plans," I jested. He caught me off guard and pushed me onto his bed, Dean falling on top of me. Our eyes met, and I was captured, unable to resist his beauty.

"The thing is, when times have gotten difficult or they seemed impossible, when the days grew darker, and it seemed like the bad guys were winning, there was one constant in my life, and that was you. It still is, Castiel." He moved his left hand so that it rested over my head, and his fingers played in my hair. "You asked me several times tonight where I'd rather be. The truth is, I could be any place and it wouldn't matter, as long as you were there. Today, we've been to a tranquil lake, a busy diner, and a noisy bar. I could have told you to take me to a dozen more places, but that's not what mattered most. For me, there's no place I'd rather be than with you."

"I just wanted to give you your own day, something unique to just you."

"And you did, Cas. I had a great time," he admitted with a smile.

I was glad he saw it that way, and it made me very happy to hear it, but the annoying doubt started festering at the back of my mind again. I reached up and laid my hand to the side of his face. "Dean, I don't know what the future holds. I don't know what will happen to me or to you. I don't want to think about it, actually, but the one thing I know for certain is that my feelings for you will never falter. I will always … always love you."

He took my tie in his right hand, fumbling with it, but his eyes searched deep within my own. "I love you too, Castiel." He lowered his head until our lips were only a hair's width apart, teasing me, making me want him.

I put my hand behind his head and drew him down, but just before we kissed, I whispered. "Happy birthday, Dean." Then our lips touched and parted, tongues exploring, our hearts beating in rhythm. We spent the rest of the night celebrating in his bed, locked in a lovers embrace, welcoming wave upon wave of ecstasy, strengthening our close bond. I was sure it would be a birthday he would never forget, because we were together, because neither one of us would rather be anywhere but right there, for that moment, for always.

Forever . . .