Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine. Trying my hand at some fluff...angst is getting dull.

A kiss. It's a tiny gesture, really-it barely means anything. Castiel was unable to grasp the significance that humans associated with it until this very moment. But suddenly, it meant absolutely everything to him.

He had been angry with dean before-this time for bringing a woman of clearly lacking morals to the motel, and shooing Cas and Sam out for a few hours. Sam and Cas sat through a film together-UP, which Sam found to be touching and which reduced Cas to awkward, noisy tears-and ate at a small diner not too far from the cinemaplex. They both ordered salads, and chatted about Dean and the apocalypse as though they were the most normal things in the world. But despite the evening's pleasantries, when they returned to the motel, they were greeted by a red lace g-string dangling from the room's doorknob. Sam rolled his eyes, and would've shared a weary remark with Cast, if cas hadn't suddenly vanished.

Catiel rematerialised inside the room, face as livid as his face could be. Dean was asleep in a mixed pile of blankets and whore, and barely stiirred when Cas knocked a bottle of Jack over on the mini-bar.

"Mm…what the hell Sa-Cas…?" Dean sleepily blinked at the angel.

"What are you doing?" was Csatiel's restrained reply. Dean looked at the dormant whore, then back at the angel.

"I think a better question would be who." Dean's attempt at wit made Castiel's stomach turn.

"Not the point," said the angel hurriedly. "You can't keep bringing strange harlots into our hotel rooms."

"You'd rather I used familiar harlots?" Cas rolled his eyes heavenward. " 'Sides, I think 'harlot' isn't the proper term, considering I get it for free." the angel's face went bright red. He sputtered something in Enochian, and clapped his hands over his face in embarassment. He could feel his face getting hotter and hotter, and tried his best not to think about how much he wanted to be that whore under the covers-

Dean chuckled, a sound that made every worry and fear that Castiel was holding melt away. Slowly Cas let his hands drop, and stared at his shoes while Dean disentangled himself from the bed and walked over to him. He clapped Csa on the back, and gave a wide, boyish grin that made Cas' heart flutter and stomach bottom out.

"Cheer up, Cas," he said. "No need to look so desperate all the time. If you want her, you got her. My gravey's used up anyway." Cas looked up at Dean feeling about a thousand emotions and far too close to Dean for comfort-their shoulders and hips were pressed together. Cas felt his palms sweat and his hairlin ebegin to itch.

"I am not interested," he said quietly. "Thank you Dean."

"Hey, if it's a territory issue, I don't think she's exactly going to be choosy-" the angel's mixed expression of tiredness and disgust stopped Dean in his tracks.

" I am not interested in her at all." his reply was flat and emotionless-classic Castiel. Dean cocked an eyebrow, and removed his arm from around Castiel's shoulders. The angel suddenly felt rather cold.

"Then who the hell are you mooning over?" asked Dean gruffly. Cas opened his mouth to protest, but was immidiately cut off.

"Don't think I'm stupid Cas, I see you spaced out all the time. There's got to be someone. You act like a lovesick seventeen year old most days." Cas stared into Dean's eyes in that way that was so very common of him. His blue eyes seemed huge today-boring twin holes in Dean's eyesockets. Finally, Cas took a deep breath and fisted his hands.

"I have always felt," he said, choosing each word as carefully as he dared. "a very…profound bond between you and I." Dean looked confused.

"What? What do you-" the words 'profound bond' rang like bells in Dean's head.

"Oh." the word hung in the air like something dead.

"Oh." Everything came to light-the looks, the way Cas had always protected him, what profound bond had meant all along-Dean's jaw dropped.

"I wasn't going to mention it." The angel whispered miserably, his head hung in shame. Without further conversation, Castiel turned his back on Dean and reached for the doorknob. Despite a sudden, warm hand on his shoulder, he still tried to leave. Eventually, he turned with the grip, seconds from asking Dean in a morose, irritated fashion, to let him go.

A kiss.

It was a tiny, tiny show of affection-barely anything-but Castiel's mouth was on fire, and a pair of strong hands were tangled in his wild black hair. Dean was kisssing him. Right this very second, Dean Winchester-big, bad, handsome and tough Dean Winchester-was kissing his lips with more enthusiasm than he'd have ever expected. Cas was left speechless when Dean pulled away, cheeks dyed red like a schoolboy.

"I thought-"

"The hell with what you thought," Dean murmured, hand still cupped around Cas' neck. "You were dead wrong."

Cas had never been happier to hear those words in his life. He smiled, stunningly bright in his joy, and kissed the hunter again.