Castiel's house smelled amazing when Dean visited the Wednesday he had gotten off. It smelled like cinnamon rolls, and he quickly found the delicious pastries cooling on the stove. His stomach growled, and Sam's echoed, making the toddler giggle and poke at Dean's belly before looking back to Castiel.

"Bellies growling," Sam exclaimed, Dean turning his head to look back at Castiel and the soft smile on the older man's face as he looked to Sam.

"I figured you would like something for breakfast," Castiel responded, moving over to one of the cabinets and pulling plates down. Dean set Sam down on the floor to help, but by the time he had moved back up, Castiel was already scooping a cinnamon roll onto the second plate.

"Damn, you move fast," Dean commented, receiving a chastising look from Castiel in response.

"I see where Sam learned some of his language," Castiel responded, though his voice held a hint of amusement that let Dean know that he wasn't that upset about it. Dean still flushed, rubbing the back of his neck as he scuffed his shoe against the ground. 

"Habit," Dean replied, looking to Sam who was watching them both with wide eyes, "Not my fault the kid is too smart for his own good."

"I don't think Sam being smart has anything to do with foul language," Castiel answered, just enough cheek in his tone that had Dean grinning in response. 

Dean had to admit that the man could be absolutely dorky sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam's fluffy hair was soft under Dean's fingers as he stroked behind the toddler's ear, his sleeping form curled up against him in a tight squeeze on Castiel's chair. He liked it like that though, having Sam close by while the toddler slept. Castiel was sitting on the couch by the chair, less than arm's length away from Dean by his position on the sofa. Beers sat in front of them, despite Castiel's initial protests to Dean drinking when he was underage, and while Dean wasn't completely drunk, there was a faint buzz under his skin that loosened his words just a little.

Yet, Dean wasn't focused on Castiel or Sam in his not-quite-drunk state, but rather staring at the picture sitting in the middle of Castiel's bookshelf, nearly invisible among the cluttered stacks of books. He had never noticed before, but he could see a small boy there, grinning up at the picture with sparkling blue eyes and tomato sauce all over his mouth.

"That was Jacob on his third birthday," Castiel commented, cutting into Dean's thoughts and sobering him almost immediately. Dean looked over at him, watching Castiel's expression as the older man stared at the picture. Dean swallowed, glancing down to Sam, pulling him just a little closer before he worked up the courage to speak.

"Whatever happened to your wife?" Dean asked softly, not daring to look at Castiel again. Instead, he focused his gaze on Sam, who slept peacefully with his mouth open, soft snuffles and snores leaving him every once and a while.

"We got divorced two years after the accident and then she killed herself last year," Castiel responded, his voice dropping to a whisper. Dean flinched, Sam stirring from the sudden movement before falling still again.

"I'm sorry," Dean offered, though it felt weak and empty to his own ears. Despite that, he felt Castiel's hand touch the arm he had resting on the side of the chair, squeezing it and finally forcing Dean to look back to the older man.

"I'm sorry about your parents as well. I know it must be hard to raise Sam by yourself," Castiel responded, offering Dean a bleak smile, which he returned with a slight nod. Talking about his hardships was never his strong point, and he hoped that Castiel would understand that.

"Cas, I wanted to thank you for helping me with watching Sam. You've certainly made it easier to deal with...everything," Dean stated, Castiel nodding before he tipped his head, his eyes squinting in a way that jump-started Dean's heart.

"You're welcome, but...Cas? No one has ever called me that," Castiel commented and Dean relaxed, welcoming the change of subject with a slight smile as he motioned to Sam.

"Sammy really likes nicknames, so I would nickname people for him. I guess it's second nature now," Dean explained, looking down at Sam with a warm smile. He wondered if Sam would stay innocent and adorable as he got older, or turn out to be more like Dean in the end. He hoped it was the former. He would never want his brother to be as tainted as he is.

"I like it," Castiel stated, a small twitch in the corner of his mouth catching Dean's attention, "It's more...significant now. Does this mean we are friends?"

Dean chuckled, unable to stop the rise of affection in his chest at the innocent eyes of the older man and his wayward personality, "I'd say we've been friends for a while, Cas," Dean answered, Castiel's eyes crinkling with happiness in response.

"That is good. I was afraid that my people skills only allowed me to become friends with a toddler," Castiel hummed, more relaxed than he had been before, "I guess I'm a little rusty when it comes to social interaction."

"I couldn't tell," Dean replied sarcastically, not even meaning to respond in that manner. It was a natural response for him since he was four years old and trading witty responses with his father, "I have to hand it to you, though. You got Sam to trust you, and that's not an easy task."

Castiel smiled, and while it wasn't a big smile, it was still blinding and lit up Castiel's face like Dean had never seen before, "Do you trust me?" Castiel asked, tipping his head.

"That's a stupid question," Dean replied, his lips quirking into an easy smirk, "I let you watch Sam, don't I? I eat the food you make. Hell, I even let Sam sleep over when I had a double shift. Isn't that proof enough?"

And, okay, that confession probably wouldn't have happened if Dean hadn't had that pleasant buzz still in him despite the conversation from earlier. Still, he knew that he had admitted something huge with that statement. His trust in Castiel was monumental because when it came down to it, he didn't trust. 

From the expression on Castiel's face, the older man knew it as well.

Dean cleared his throat, looking away and pulling Sam up into a cradled position on his arms, "Well, I should be getting Sam home. We probably bothered you enough, today," He muttered, not wanting to face the consequences of what he said at the moment, not wanting to think about how his version of trust didn't exist without some sort of love guiding it.

Yeah, he was definitely not going to talk about that.

"You haven't been a bother, but I won't stop you," Castiel replied, his voice a clear offer. Dean could opt out of this conversation and not have to ever mention it again, and Castiel would give it to him. Or, he could face Castiel and maybe find out what this...thing, whatever it was, could mean for the both of them.

Dean barely got his farewell out before he was hurrying towards the door. He may be strong, but he couldn't face it, not yet.