Title: The Little Wooden Kitchen In The Suburbs (1/?)
Author: craystiel
Rating: PG (For now)
Pairing: Dean/Castiel. Bonus domestic!Team Free Will
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, all rights belong to Supernatural.
Spoilers: Based off the Season 8 storyline I suppose.
Warnings: Its so fluffy I'm gonna die.
Notes: This is a WIP and I'm done with about 3 chapters. But its the holidays and its busy, so updates when I can. Promise it won't be too long between entries :) Beta'd by the lovely TruffleHead once again. Thank you honey.
Summary: It's been a few months since they shut the gates of hell forever. They've given up hunting for a simpler life. But Dean, he's having a little trouble adjusting.
Everything had changed a few months ago. It went from fighting and blood, to peace and pie. To the life Dean Winchester had always known, to the unknown and the unfamiliar. This wasn't what he'd had with Lisa, and it definitely wasn't what he'd had with Sam. It was life, he was living, but he'd never been taught how to do that.
It was 4 am. He'd stopped sleeping since they'd stopped sleeping in motels. It seemed strange, but a cheap mattress and creaky floorboards actually helped him sleep, with all the memories they brought with them. He actually missed those things.
Dean seemed always rid with nightmares and sleeping pills, nowadays. He tossed and turned. The room was dark, but his eyes had since adjusted, so he just laid there. Awake, aware, and scared. He could hear the comfortable and familiar sound of Sam snoring just a room away and smiled. Some things never changed. He cleared his throat and turned into the sound. Home. There was a photo of Cas and Sam to his left. It was sunny and they were both smiling. Dean felt his heart tighten. Next to it was the last family photo he could remember. Bobby, Ellen, and Jo, all alive and looking worried. He turned onto his back, his jaw clenched.
"Dean." The voice was soft and deep. The familiar warm tone of Castiel.
"Hey, Cas." Dean didn't move. Cas came to sit beside him on the bed.
"Still cannot sleep?" Cas moved the hair from Deans eyes.
Dean wasn't entirely sure when their relationship had changed. He remembered the subtle looks and the soft touches to his shoulder, Cas' handprint still burning a hole in his heart. Then all of a sudden, it was more than a touch on the shoulder. It was small kisses on the cheek and a gentle squeeze of the hand. It was more.
Dean found himself smiling.
"Did you want to pray to me, Dean?"
"Cas, that only helped in purgatory." Dean let a chuckle escape his tired body.
"Nonetheless, I do like your prayers." Cas tenderly played with Deans hair. Dean sighed, leaning into his touch, liking the way it was starting to feel normal. As if they'd been doing this their entire lives; that this is how he was meant to spend the rest of his. Cas on the side of his bed, playing with his hair and talking him to sleep. Comfortable and real. Like nothing he'd had before.
"I'll let you get some rest." Cas went to stand.
"Stay." Dean pulled him down again, "Just talk to me, I don't care what about, just talk." And so Cas talked, and Dean barely listened as Cas gently dragged the strands of Deans hair between his warm fingers. He wasn't sure how long it took him to fall asleep, but without dreaming one second of a nightmare, it was morning and Cas was tucked in beside him. There was bacon cooking and the smell of breakfast swiftly woke him. He stroked Cas' arm, still appropriately dressed in his suit and trench coat, Dean was yet to see him out of it. To be honest, it hadn't occurred to him that he wanted to. Or what that meant. Or if it even meant what he thought it did. He shook his head.
"Wha- Dean?" Cas' deep voice was layered with sleep and Dean smiled. He could get very used to sleepy Cas.
"You must've fallen asleep." Dean said, amused, and stroked Cas' arm. Cas rolled over and snuggled into Deans hold. It was more. Cas' eyes blinked open and Dean gazed into the bright blue pouring into his own.
Sam was at the door then, interrupting their emotionally charged moments, as was his favorite past time.
"Guys, I made breakfast, get up." Sam picked up a t-shirt off the ground and threw it at them. He said nothing about their position, or the fact that Cas never slept in his own room anymore. He just continued to throw shirts until one of them moved.
"Okay, okay." Dean said, "Sammy I get it! I'm getting up, don't get your big boy panties in a twist."
"Hilarious, Dean." Sam pulled a bitch face and left the room.
Whatever moment they'd been having was forgotten and they both went back to being less. Cas getting out of the bed and straightening up his suit, Dean pulling on a shirt and following Cas out to their kitchen.
They had a kitchen, and that was the strangest thing of all. They had a kitchen, where they cooked food and shared meals. They had a kitchen, in a house, where they all paid rent and were settled in. Every time it crossed Deans mind, he had to pinch himself. This was his life now.
Dean watched Sam and Cas as they discussed something he wasn't listening to. This was the life of Dean Winchester. He lived with his brother and his angel and they were happy. For the most part, anyway. Both he and Sam still suffered from nightmares and flashbacks and sometimes a weird death would send one of them racing to the Impala, the salt off the table in tow, but they were trying.
Sam had been on a couple of dates with nice girls that Dean approved of. He was taking classes at the local college and just last week he'd rescued a dog from a shelter. Sam was living the life he'd always wanted. Dean was happy for him.
Cas had fudged teaching qualifications and was working at the local college. He was a professor who wore the same damn suit to work every day. He made lesson plans and spoke about the kids in his class like they were his own. He was very human now, apart from the lack of social skills. He was fallen and no longer in pain.
As for Dean, he had a job at a garage, he was working on his mechanic apprenticeship. Learning and working and earning money, to put food on the table and water in their pipes. He didn't work on the weekends anymore and he had Wednesdays off. He was living a very ordinary, mundane life.
They ate breakfast together, and an hour later both Sam and Cas had gone to the college, leaving Dean to his own devices. He hated being alone in the house now, so even though he'd be 2 hours early for work, he got ready and made his way to the garage. He didn't clock in, just helped out and talked to the guys. He felt at home here, too. It smelt like Bobby's and looked like a holiday. He couldn't talk war stories or let them in on his previous life, but he changed details and told the story of the life of the traveling spare parts salesman. A job he'd made up, but one that they'd all seemed to buy. Work flew by and before he knew it Cas was picking him up. He hadn't been driving long, but he was getting the hang of it. Sam looked scared and guilty sitting beside Cas in the impala and Dean gave the boys a wave before hopping in.
"What happened?" Dean asked, sliding into the back seat.
"Nothing of import, Dean." Castiel replied, backing out of the garage's gravel driveway.
"Sammy?" Dean leant forward, slinging his arms over the front seat.
"Yeah, uh, nothing of import." Sam coughed lightly.
"You ran into something again, didn't you Cas?" Dean raised his voice, "What did you to do my baby?"
"It was a slight bump and she's fine" Cas said very casually, too casually for him, almost as though he'd practiced it.
"Pull over."
"Dean really, it's fine." Sam said, panic in his eyes. Dean really shouldn't have let Cas learn in the Impala, but it was their only car and Cas couldn't simply fly anywhere now. He had to do human things like cook terrible food, sleep for too long and learn to drive. This was the third accident he'd had in the last week. Dean always fixed the problem and if it wasn't Cas, he wouldn't be driving it. Dean jumped out of the car and inspected the damage. He had been too busy staring into Cas' smiling eyes when he'd been picked up that he didn't notice the giant scratch up her side.
"Baby," Dean sighed, running his hand alongside the injury.
"Like I said, nothing of import." Cas cleared his throat. Dean shot him a glare and Sam gulped loudly.
"It wasn't Cas' fault, really!" Sam said, "That newspaper stand came out of nowhere!"
"Shut up," Dean waved his hand.
Eventually they made their way back home, Dean was crabby and Sam and Cas remained silent. When they pulled in the driveway, Sam rushed inside, dropping a book or two on the way.
"I am sorry." Cas said, gently taking Deans hand in his own.
"It's okay, Cas, I'll fix her up." Dean placed his free hand on top of Castiel's.
"Every time I try and reverse," Cas shook his head.
"I'll take you for a lesson on Wednesday, after your morning class." Dean squeezed Cas' hand and they both smiled. It was more.
The rest of the evening was mundane, boring. They cooked dinner, Dean turned on a movie, Sam studied, and Cas marked papers. They were a family. Domestic and simple. Yet every single time Dean closed his eyes, all he could see were the monsters of his past, coming back to haunt him. The people he didn't save, screaming in pain. The mistakes he made, splashed out in bold colours. He was struggling with mundane, after all the things he'd seen. He was struggling with normal, when all he'd ever had was weird.
Cas came into his bedroom in the early morning nearly always, now. He stroked Deans hair and talked him to sleep.
He might've never had normal, but if this is what it was, he could probably get used to it.