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They just had to let Sam take the Impala. “Sure, we can walk back to the motel; it’s close enough,” Dean had said after Sam asked if he could take the Impala across town to the library for research on the case they were working on. They were probably only a few miles from the motel, but Dean did not heed Castiel’s warning when he pointed out the storm clouds rolling in.
“We’ll be fine, Cas. A little rain never hurt anybody.”
Yes, well – a little rain might not. But it was pouring rain, loud claps of thunder following spikes of lightning that lit up the ever-darkening sky as the black clouds gathered over them. It had hit in a flash, with no time to even try to seek shelter. Both Dean and Castiel were soaked through within seconds.
They had made it far enough from the police station that turning back would be useless, and their motel was still a ways off. Dean had insisted on cutting through a small wooded area, claiming it would shave off at least fifteen minutes of walking time. Now it would probably add a good thirty minutes to their travels, as the earth turned to mud beneath their feet and sucked at their shoes as they stomped on.
Castiel had pulled his trench coat off and was using it as a poor excuse for an umbrella, but it wasn’t helping very much – especially when Dean shook his head like a dog and sprayed Castiel with the water that had gathered in his rain-darkened hair. Castiel glared at him as he wiped the droplets from his face, but Dean just beamed at him and chuckled.
“Aw, come on, Cas! It’s not that bad. Besides, how often do we ever get to just enjoy nature, huh? We’re so busy fighting and killing things, we never get to appreciate the simple shit, like getting caught in the rain.”
“Why would anyone enjoy getting caught in the rain, Dean?” Castiel asked, shaking his trench coat to get rid of some of the water that had gathered on top.
Dean smirked and turned to face Castiel, walking backwards through the trees, which Castiel thought was quite foolish, as Dean was sure to trip in the mud. “I dunno, Cas. Do you like piña coladas? Because then you’d probably like getting caught in the rain, too,” Dean said, clearly trying to hold in a laugh.
“I do understand that reference now, Dean. I have essentially downloaded the history of Earth’s pop culture references thanks to Metatron.”
Dean chuckled and shook his head in a gesture of fondness, turning back around to walk alongside Castiel once more with his hands in his pockets. “Spoil sport.”
A particularly bright flash of lightning was followed by a booming roar of thunder that actually caused Castiel to jump and stumble in the mud, startled. The already heavily pouring rain seemed to intensify, and suddenly the rain itself was near-deafening.
“Dean, we should seek shelter! The storm is getting worse!” Castiel shouted over the howling of the wind and cacophonous sound of rain pounding down onto the earth and splashing off the trees around them.
Dean had removed his flannel overshirt, holding it over his head in the same fashion Castiel was holding his trench coat. It was not helping very much, but it also had the advantage of exposing Dean in a plain white t-shirt, which was all but see-through from the rain and clinging to him like a second skin.
“Alright, we can take cover under that big tree over there. Let’s just hope your pops doesn’t decide to strike us down with lightning.”
“My father does not actually smite with lightning; that is part of the mythological tales regarding Zeus, the Greek God,” Castiel pointed out as they reached the tree they were going to try to seek shelter under. It had low-hanging branches that made a sort of canopy over a small area where the rain wasn’t getting through quite as badly.
Huffing in laughter, Dean tossed his flannel shirt with a squelching sound to land beside Castiel under the tree. He was still standing away from the sparse shelter they had found, and Castiel watched as Dean looked up directly into the rain and smiled. He raised his hands and dragged them through his drenched hair, opening his mouth to catch the raindrops on his tongue with his eyes closed. The rain dripped from Dean’s skin and clothes, which hugged him tight due to the gallons of water washing over him.
The sun had been mostly blocked out by the storm clouds, but a few rays shone through as the clouds shifted and moved above them. Through the canopy of leaves, a ray of sunlight hit Dean’s face as he tilted it up a little further, as though seeking out the warmth. The light seemed to find every freckle on the oldest Winchester’s face and brought them into sharp relief against his wet skin.
Castiel didn’t realize he had been staring until Dean tilted his head back down and opened his eyes, which were bright and sparkling, even through the rain. They were like two emeralds with sunlight streaming through them, piercing Castiel as Dean made eye contact and smiled.
“Come on, Cas, come dance in the rain with me!”
Castiel’s brow scrunched as he stared at the man he had saved from Hell, spinning circles in the rain and sending drops flying all around, his wet t-shirt sticky and clinging to his chest and stomach. His jeans had turned black with dampness and were slung low on his hips, weighed down by the weight of the water collected in the denim. His boots were caked with mud, as were the bottom hems of his jeans, but Dean didn’t seem to care about any of that. Dean didn’t seem to care about anything, and Castiel finally realized why he couldn’t take his eyes off of the man – this was the first time he had ever seen Dean carefree and just…happy.
Castiel wondered how much more of this carefree, playful personality Dean had hidden beneath his hunter persona. He ached to know a Dean who had never felt the pain of Hell, of loss and death and murder. A Dean who could breathe without worrying that it might be the last breath he took. But then Castiel realized – that Dean wouldn’t be his Dean, and he wouldn’t give up his Dean for anything, because he loved this Dean, flaws and all.
Castiel loved Dean’s grin and his chuckle. He loved the freckles that seemed to kiss every inch of the hunter’s skin, but only really came out in the sunlight. He loved Dean’s brightly shining eyes, greener than should be natural. Castiel loved Dean’s surly pout when he didn’t get his way, and the way his eyes lit up with excitement when a piece of pie was served to him at a greasy diner. He loved the elder Winchester’s quirky sense of humor and the way he smiled at his little brother with so much love in his eyes when he thought no one was looking. Castiel loved Dean’s guilty look of shame when Sam caught him watching reruns of Dr. Sexy, MD on the TV in their motel rooms on the road. He loved the way Dean reverently ran his hand across the hood of the Impala, giving it a gentle knock on the roof before hopping into the driver’s seat. Castiel loved Dean’s determination, his strength, his bravery, and his capacity to love and heal from so much emotional trauma and turmoil. He loved the Righteous Man’s perseverance in the face of any fight, no matter how big or small. Castiel loved the way Dean subconsciously stood protectively in front of Castiel or Sam, even though Dean knew they could protect themselves.
Castiel loved Dean.
But Dean did not love Castiel.
Well, not as anything more than he felt for his brother, or Bobby, or Jo and Ellen. He loved Castiel like family, and Castiel was grateful for even being considered family. But Dean would never see Castiel the way the angel saw the hunter, because Castiel didn’t just love Dean – he was in love with Dean.
Castiel knew Dean would never feel the same way. He knew Dean wouldn’t ever look at him the way Castiel tried not to look at Dean. He knew it was wrong to covet the Righteous Man he had been assigned to, but that did not make him love Dean any less.
Castiel wished he had the bravery to stand up and pull Dean to himself, to kiss those full lips and lick the raindrops from his cheeks, to run his hands through his sopping wet hair and down his soaking wet back. Castiel wished he could tell Dean how much he loved him, but he would not risk losing him. So the angel did none of the things he wished he had the bravery to do.
Instead, Castiel leaned against a tree with the poor shelter of low-hanging branches, his trench coat still held over his head in an attempt to keep some of the rain off of himself, and watched Dean spin around in the rain – smiling and laughing and feeling free, if only for a few minutes.
Castiel whispered to himself as Dean played in the rain: “I am jealous of the rain that falls upon your skin. It's closer than my hands have been. I’m jealous of the rain.”
And he was.