Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.

So I got this idea from something I posted on Destiel (the page I admin) and when somebody asked about a fic, I knew I had to write this oneshot :D And as usual, it's 70% my own plot and 30% of the actual prompt because I'm utterly incapable of writing otherwise -_-

(Also, we don't have enough 'alien' Cas because he essentially is an alien to human society and I missed the days where he understood virtually nothing because it was adorable to watch him try and fit in. And honestly, I think I may have put a bit too much of myself into Cas when it comes to his understanding of sex and desire. Whoops)

"Well? Drink up, man," Dean says. Castiel studies the beverage before him for a moment before picking up the glass and swallowing the contents in one gulp. Dean blinks in surprise.

"Wow. Uh…pacing, much?"

"Pacing?"

"Never mind."

Dean signals to the bartender – a slim blonde woman, who Castiel supposes is attractive enough even if he doesn't understand how her body is enough to make Dean and other males in the vicinity want to sleep with her – and she comes over to refill Castiel's glass.

"Thank you," he says. The woman smiles at him.

"No problem, sugar," she says with a wink and she reaches out to run a hand down his arm before leaving to serve more customers. Dean grins at him.

"Dude, she was so into you," he says in what seems to Castiel to be a conspiratorial whisper. Castiel frowns at the woman's back. When had being nice to people turned into flirting and expressing a desire to have sex with somebody?

"I don't understand. She was being friendly, wasn't she? Isn't that human custom?"

Dean snorts.

"Yeah but 'being friendly' doesn't involve being so touchy feely. I'm your friend and I don't put my paws all over you."

Now Castiel frowns at Dean. The man seems strangely hostile towards the bartender now and Castiel doesn't understand what is different now or what caused this sudden change in his perception of her.

"You've never been the 'touchy feely' sort, Dean."

"Yeah but – whatever. See if I'm wrong."

Castiel pays close attention to the bartender now and when she comes over to ask if he needs anything else, he has to admit that Dean was correct. She is careful to keep her touching of other men to a minimum – the drunken, rowdy men who can't seem to keep their hands or their frankly lewd suggestions to themselves – but she freely touches Castiel, keeping her hand on his for as long as she can seemingly get away with and patting him on the shoulder when he says that he doesn't require anything else.

"I try and pick her up all night and she just falls into your lap," Dean mumbles darkly, finishing off his drink.

"Maybe she takes interest in men who don't try to touch her in intimate places and say vulgar things to her under the pretence of flirting," Castiel says simply. This seems to be the wrong thing to say because Dean is now glaring at him.

"You saying I'm a drunk pervert? I haven't tried to touch her once."

"Not with your hands. Your eyes seem to alternate between her breasts and her backside, rather than her face, and some of the things you've said can be construed as dirty if one chooses to interpret them that way."

Dean's glare deepens.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's go. I'm not sitting here all night and watching her feel you up."

He throws a handful of bills onto the bar and storms out. Castiel stares after him, wondering why Dean is suddenly so hostile towards her.

"Everything alright, cupcake?" The bartender is back and looking at him sympathetically.

"Why would you not sleep with my friend?" Castiel sees no reason to beat around the bush. "He was not nearly as horrible and perverted as those men over there. I don't understand."

The bartender beckons him close with a finger. Castiel leans in so that she can whisper into his ear. "He was desperate. Trying too hard to get laid. It's a turn-off. Personally, I think he was overcompensating because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Can't you tell? He's got a thing for you, honey bun. He couldn't take his eyes off you when he thought you weren't looking. And quite frankly, I'm nobody's consolation prize – even for a one night stand."

Castiel is utterly confused but when he tries to pull away, the bartender grabs him to keep him in place.

"Keep talkin'. The idiots over there are losing their shit, me bending over here with you."

"You must be mistaken. Dean does not see me as anything more than his friend."

"How do you figure that?"

"He told me that you were sexually interested in me because you kept touching me. But he never touches me like that."

"Different signs, sweetie. Some people aren't touchy feely. But he is right about me being into you. Franky, you're the only one who hasn't looked at any bit of me other than my face, or made dirty comments about my body. It's refreshing for a girl to be seen as something other than a piece of meat."

"I don't understand how human bodies can induce such lust. Does personality count for nothing?"

The bartender smiled sadly.

"You'd think it should. Anyway, I won't keep you much longer or else your boy toy won't be in a good mood. Take care of yourself, baby cakes."

She pats him on the back, presses a kiss to his cheek and Castiel hurries out of the bar before Dean comes in and snaps at him, wondering about the intricacies of human interaction and the difficulties of having to interpret different signals. Why does human interaction have to be so complicated? And why did the bartender have a habit of calling him the names of pastries? Is it an expression of endearment?

Castiel wishes that he could understand these humans.

Over the next few days, Castiel pays close attention to Dean, to see if the bartender was right. She was correct in that he does tend to keep his eyes firmly fixed on Castiel whenever he thinks the angel isn't looking and though Dean is far from the most affectionate person out there, Castiel does notice that Dean does seem to touch him whenever he thinks he can get away with it.

"How'd you screw up your tie that badly?" Dean says one morning when Castiel is struggling to tie his tie. It frustrates him that, no matter how many times Dean instructs him in how to tie it, he still remains unable to. It isn't infuriating but it's definitely annoying.

"I don't know," Castiel says irritably.

"C'mere. Lemme fix it."

Dean is so close to Castiel that the angel can feel his warm breath. Something warm begins to bubble inside him and he is keenly aware of every little touch of Dean's; Dean's fingers brushing against his throat, his knuckles pressing into Castiel's collar, his breath raising goosebumps across Castiel's face and arousing a tingling feeling in his lips. It's all too much and at the same time, it's not anywhere near enough.

"There. All done." Dean backs away, startling Castiel out of his trance, and he claps Castiel on the shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder if you do it on purpose so that I gotta fix it. Can't get enough of me, eh?"

He winks at Castiel and then turns and heads towards the kitchen. Castiel remains rooted in place, trying to understand why he feels pleasantly warm all over and why he suddenly wants to take Dean in his arms and press their lips together until the green-eyed man can't breathe and then shower every bit of Dean's body with the love he deserves.

Is it normal to feel this way about his friend?

Castiel looks down at his tie and frowns when he sees that it is still backwards. Didn't Dean fix it? What does this all mean?

"Sam, I have a problem."

Sam jumps violently and the book he was reading clatters to the floor.

"Jesus, Cas! A little warning next time!" the tall man exclaims, a hand over his heart. Castiel doesn't understand the problem. He didn't 'zap' into the room, like Dean often complains about and accuses him of doing. Any observant person should have noticed him enter.

"My apologies."

"No – it's okay. Just…don't sneak up on me like that, okay?"

Castiel still doesn't see the problem but he voices his agreement for the sake of moving on.

"So what's up? Why do you need my help? Don't you usually go to Dean?"

"I feel that this conversation may make Dean uncomfortable. You are the only other person I can turn to."

A serious look on his face, Sam pulls up a chair next to him and Castiel sits down.

"What's up?"

Castiel takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"How do you know if you love somebody?"

Sam makes a strange noise with a surprised expression.

"Where's this coming from?"

"I suspect that I might love Dean."

"Right." Sam nods, his lips twitching, and Castiel feels a sudden wave of irritation flow through him.

"What's so funny?"

"What – oh, nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"No, no, I'm sorry, Cas. I just…you two've been pining for years and you only just realise it now?"

Castiel files this information away for later. Could he have been in love for years without realising it?

"Dean and I went to a bar four nights ago. He seemed unnecessarily hostile towards the bartender he was trying to flirt with once he concluded that she was sexually attracted to me. And she told me that he looks at me whenever he thinks that I am not looking – which I have found to be true. Also, Dean told me that people are 'touchy feely' when they are interested in somebody and while he is not an overly affectionate person, I have noticed that he seems to touch me more than he touches anybody else."

Sam nods, though Castiel can't tell whether or not this is in agreement.

"Right. So what makes you think that you love him?'

"I – I have noticed as of late that my body undergoes strange reactions to his presence. Earlier today, he fixed my tie for me and I felt warm and flushed, even though my body temperature did not rise. And whenever he touched me, I felt as though electricity was coursing from his fingertips."

Sam is trying to hide a smile, though Castiel doesn't know how this is amusing in any way.

"Right. Uh – that does sound like you like him. Anything else?"

Castiel hesitates before sharing this next piece of information. He is unaccustomed to possessing romantic feelings for somebody and if he confesses that he feels the desire to kiss Dean, to touch him and worship every cell of his body, then he will have to acknowledge these – these human feelings. And suddenly, nothing seems more terrifying than the thought of accepting that he is in love with Dean. Why is he even talking to Sam, if he was able to come to this conclusion himself?

"I…wish to kiss him. I want to love him. I want him to feel comfortable touching me, to want to do so openly. I want him to be able to look at me without feeling the need to hide it. And I think I know now that I do love him."

Sam nods, a smile on his face.

"I could've told you that. He's wanted you for years, Cas. You think it's normal that he has all those staring contests with you? Has he ever kept anything of mine when I died like he did with you and the trench coat? Heck, he touches you more than he touches me and I'm his brother."

"But I didn't feel these urges until recently. Does that mean that my love for him is not as deep as what he feels for me? I don't want to confess my feelings and then find that I don't love him as he loves me."

Sam reaches out and claps Castiel on the shoulder. Castiel stores this action away for future reference; it seems to be a friendly gesture that one does to people they feel fond of.

"Just because you didn't love him until now doesn't mean that you didn't love him."

"That makes no sense."

Sam sighs. Castiel finds himself bristling at this, though he knows that Sam isn't blaming him for his lack of understanding of humankind and its mannerisms.

"Different types of love, right? You said yourself that you've got a profound bond with him. So just because you didn't feel romantic love for him until recently doesn't mean that you didn't love him at all. You love me…don't you? Just not like that."

Sam looks insecure in this moment. Castiel decides to employ his newly learned action of patting him on the shoulder and this seems to work, because Sam perks up.

"I do love you, Sam. I see you as a brother. And I suppose that I see your point. Even before I experienced these physical reactions, I have always held a different kind of love for Dean. I just hadn't realised it until now."

Looking back now, Castiel can see that he has always loved Dean – since the moment he touched the man's beautiful soul in Hell and buried it in his grace to protect Dean as he raised him from Perdition. Now he feels frustrated with himself. How could it have taken him this long to realise?

"Don't beat yourself up," Sam says, correctly interpreting Castiel's facial expression. "You're an angel, remember? Even humans have a hard enough time working out their emotions. It must be harder for you since you're not used to them."

Castiel nods with a small smile.

"Thank you, Sam. You're a good friend."

Sam beams, clearly pleased with Castiel's words, and Castiel stands up to leave Sam to his book. But he has to say one more thing before he goes.

"Sam. I know that you still feel guilty that you did not look for us in Purgatory. But I have forgiven you. And I am certain that Dean has as well. He just won't tell you because he isn't skilled at expressing his feelings verbally."

The wide smile that Sam gives him fills him with satisfaction.

For the rest of the day, Castiel ponders on how best to confess his feelings to Dean. Does he have to be subtle about it? What if he gets it wrong? He isn't the best at social cues and he doesn't want to embarrass Dean, or say something wrong and destroy the relationship between them.

While pondering how best to show his affection, Castiel remembers the bartender and her terms of endearment. Using pastries and desserts as pet names seems rather odd but nobody looked at her strangely when she called him 'sugar' and 'cupcake' and 'honey bun' and 'baby cakes'. This must be a social norm, then. Perhaps if he refers to Dean using terms of endearment, Dean will catch on and confess his own feelings.

That night, while Sam is typing on his laptop and Castiel is pretending to read a book, he decides to put his plan into motion. The minute Dean walks into the bunker's main room, Castiel will shower him with pet names and tell him how he feels. Then hopefully, Dean will confess his mutual attraction and Castiel will finally be allowed to indulge in his desire to kiss the beautiful man. And if his plan goes awry, Castiel can simply spread his wings and disappear for as long as it takes for him to overcome the shame and embarrassment he will be filled with.

The latter possibility does not sit well in Castiel's stomach.

"Well, isn't this a cosy little sleepover," Dean announces as he walks into the room. Castiel looks up sharply, intending to initiate his plan, but he is rendered helpless by a sudden wave of desire that floods his body – and not desire that he has been feeling, that he is familiar with, but a different kind. The kind that makes his heart beat faster, that seems to set his very being on fire, that diverts all blood flow to his lower regions and results in what Dean helpfully called a 'boner'. Castiel is puzzled. Is this sexual attraction? Is this the desire that results from simply looking at a person's body?

"Cas? You okay?"

Dean's voice breaks through Castiel's thoughts. He nods quickly, his cheeks aflame.

"I – I'm fine."

Before Dean can ask more questions, Castiel flees the room. Once in the hallway, he leans against the wall and takes deep breaths to calm himself. What's going on with him? He's never felt this kind of intense desire before. Even when watching pornography, his 'boner' was not born of any particular attraction to the pizza man or the babysitter but rather, to the action of sex in general. Is this what people experience whenever they look at a person they find attractive? And why has he experienced this only towards Dean, and only now?

Either way, he can't possibly initiate his plan now. He'll have to wait until tomorrow.

"Hello, Dean," he says the next morning when entering the main room to find Sam and Dean sitting at the table. Before he can back out, he adds, "My peach crumble."

Dead silence fills the room.

"Your what?" Dean splutters, while Sam covers his mouth. Castiel thinks that he might have made a mistake but he can't back out now.

"My turnover. My cheesecake. My –"

"Alright, stop right there! And you can shut the hell up!"

Dean directs that last bit at Sam, who is laughing so hard that he is in danger of falling out of his chair. A horrible stone begins to settle in Castiel's stomach.

"My – my apologies, Dean. I seem to have –"

"Dude, what the hell?"

"I'm just gonna go," Sam says, grabbing his laptop and exiting the room as quickly as he can while walking. As the silence becomes oppressing, Castiel finds it easier to look down at the floor than to face the piercing gaze that he can feel coming from Dean.

"Cas. Talk to me. The hell's with those weird names?"

Castiel still refuses to look up, his face burning with shame.

"I…was of the understanding that using desserts as pet names was endearing," he mumbles. "I appear to have been wrong."

"What – not all of 'em, Cas. Peach crumble? Turnover? Cheesecake? Those are fucking weird. People use cupcake and sugar and honey and that shit. Don't ask me why. But why'd you call me all that?"

"Because…I love you," Castiel admits. His keen senses pick up the faint, sharp intake of breath from Dean. "I've loved you for years. But it wasn't until recently that I began to feel the urge to express this love physically, such as through kisses and touch. Sam told me that I was right in my assumption that you have also loved me for years."

"Little bitch," Dean mutters. "But Cas…seriously?"

Castiel blinks rapidly as his eyes begin to sting. Why are his tear ducts producing tears? Why can't he just tell them to stop?

"I apologise for my assumption, Dean. I had thought – since you touch me more than you touch anybody else, and you enjoy looking at me, and you grew to dislike that bartender when she flirted with me – if you tell me that you don't feel the same way about me, I'll leave. I won't force you to endure my presence with the knowledge that we want different things."

Dean's footsteps grow louder as the man approaches him. Then a gentle hand his under his chin, lifting his face up, and Castiel doesn't want to meet Dean's eyes, doesn't want to see the disgust he knows will be there. But to his surprise, there is no disgust; only affection and amusement.

"What if we don't want different things?" Dean says with a soft smile, caressing Castiel's cheeks. Castiel leans into the touch but doesn't close his eyes, wanting Dean's face to be permanently seared into his memory. "What if I was having a gay panic for those first few years and then just waiting to see if you felt the same way? It's not like you're open about it or anything."

"My – my apologies," Castiel mumbles. Dean laughs quietly.

"Don't apologise, Cas. I shoulda realised when I fell for an angel that you weren't gonna make it easy."

"Do you regret it? Falling in love with me? I'm not human, Dean. I don't understand many of your intricacies. I possess no knowledge of pop culture references. And…my vessel is male. I know that you're attracted to females."

"True. But you're the first guy I've liked, which is why I had a huge gay panic when I first realised. And I did like Anna too. I like to think I'm halosexual."

He winks at Castiel, who can't help but chuckle as heat courses through him.

"But…Cas." Dean looks down. "I…can't say those words. So if you're looking for someone to tell you then –"

"Simply knowing is enough, Dean. It doesn't bother me."

Dean grins widely at that, then brushes his thumb over Castiel's lips. Castiel shivers.

"Then I think we're all set."

The first brush of Dean's lips against his ignites a fire deep in his essence. Craving more, he wraps his arms around Dean's neck, pulls him close, pours as much love into the kiss as he possibly can. It seems to work because Dean gasps and tugs him closer, his tongue pushing into Castiel's mouth. A hot wave of desire shudders through Castiel.

"Bed?" Dean murmurs against his lips, pressing small kisses to them. At the thought of having sex with Dean, at being as close as possible to the man, Castiel's stomach flutters and he nods. "Hold on."

Dean's hands run down Castiel's back, over his backside and settle on the backs of his thighs before he pulls. Castiel plays along, allowing Dean to lift him and wrapping his legs around Dean to hold himself in place. He can't stop kissing Dean, leaving slick, open-mouthed kisses against Dean's lips as his green-eyed hunter carries him to the bedroom. The way in which Dean gently, reverently, sets him on the bed warms Castiel's insides pleasantly and he makes a noise of disappointment when Dean doesn't settle on top of him and continue to kiss him.

"Patience, angel," Dean grins, his eyes alight with joy as he tugs the trench coat from Castiel's shoulders. Castiel is proud that he is the reason for that happiness. "Gotta get these clothes off first."

Dean is right, as he always is with these things; with no clothes separating their skin, everything seems to be heightened; every little touch generating far more heat now that it's bare skin on bare skin.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Dean asks, nipping and kissing Castiel's throat. "You've never had sex before, have you?"

"N-No." It's hard to breathe, to even think, through the haze of lust clouding his mind. "I've never slept with anybody. I've never had occasion to."

Dean smirks down at him.

"So I get to be your first. Shame I don't get to be your first kiss, though."

His first kiss? Oh. That's right. His first kiss went to Meg.

"I – Dean, I did love Meg. But not as I love you. Don't feel disappointed or envious or mad. If I did love her as I love you, would I have felt such confusion as to my feelings towards you?"

Dean shrugs but Castiel can see the tension ease from the man's shoulders.

"Fair enough. I bet I can make you forget about her in the next hour."

After that, everything passes in a haze where Castiel is only aware of Dean; Dean's body pressed to his, Dean's weight on top of him, Dean moving against him and then inside him, and the growing pleasure that renders him helpless, unable to do anything but fall apart under Dean's gentle touch. Once Castiel is coming down from his climax, he has to concede to Dean; he barely remembers Meg at all after feeling so thoroughly loved.

"Thank you, Dean," he says as he lies in Dean's arms, both of them covered in sweat and other bodily fluids. He can still feel Dean moving inside him and his muscles clench pleasantly at the memory. "I've never felt so loved."

Dean laughs proudly – even smugly – and holds Castiel closer, pressing a kiss to his head.

"Happy to help, Cas. And if you wanna do that again later…well, I wouldn't complain."

Castiel chuckles and begins to leave light kisses along Dean's jaw and throat.

"Neither would I. My apple pie."

He can feel Dean's bewilderment without even looking at his face.

"Your favourite food is pie. I feel that if I'm going to be odd, I may as well call you by a name that holds significance."

"But that'd make you the pie, because I'd be saying that I like you as much as pie. Which I like a lot. Actually, I think I might like you a lot more."

Castiel drapes an arm over Dean's stomach, seeking further closeness, ignoring the mess underneath his arm.

"So you're comfortable to call me pie?" When Dean shrugs uncomfortably, Castiel leans up and kisses him. "I didn't think so. So I'm going to call you apple pie, because I love you more than you love pie. That way, you can always be reminded of how much I love you."

"You old sap," Dean grumbles but Castiel can tell that he is pleased. "Now shut up. You're ruining the moment."

Castiel wants to ask what moment he's ruining but when they lapse into silence and simply enjoy their post-sex state, he thinks he understands. Many of humanity's intricacies still remain a mystery to him but making love, expressing affection, loving…this, he thinks he can start to comprehend.