I don't own T&S, it belongs to the brilliant: gabriel and standbyme.


Dean walked over to the records, his fingers brushing past The Beatles in search of something else, and stood up to the player, gently placing the big black disk on and moving the needle so that the music started playing. The house was too quiet- Dean didn't like it when it was quiet, never had.

The table held an ashtray, though it had gone unused for many years now. He didn't smoke anymore, what with all the health hazards coming to light nowadays, and he was placing his bets.

Above the table, black and white young photos of him on his bike, racing, covered the wall, and... one tattered old picture of a man waving.

He gazed at it for a moment, and went to sit down, looking out the window. He had a view of the beach in his house- his own house out here, that Sammy and Jess had bought for him when Sam became a successful enough lawyer.

Back then, on his 38th birthday, he had resisted the idea- it would remind him too much of Cas, he had said, for this is what Cas always wanted: a house on an island. Minus the island part, it was a perfect epitome of that all.

All Dean wished for on his loneliest days and nights were his baby to share it all with.

But he was doing all right- he had done all right for 20 some odd years after that.

He knew he was old-fashioned for keeping the ancient record player, and all those records in the house, but he wasn't as technologically progressive as his brother- he couldn't let go of them. If he had given those away, it would be like giving a part of his heart to a stranger who just didn't understand the worth.

He rubbed his bottom lip, his eyes drifting back to the picture on the wall. It was stained around the edges with Vietnam dirt and rainwater, the paper of it harshly handled. But you could still see his face, smiling on the beach, that look right before he shouted, 'I love you!'

Dean smiled sadly. This was one of those times he missed him so bad he could barely breathe. Some days were better than others- some days, he would go and look after his grand-nieces, Abigail's two daughters, and sometimes, he would tell them stories of how he met Cas, back when he was young and recklessly romantic.

Then other days, he found it hard to even get out of bed, be it because of some rogue memories of the war or simply sheer, raw pain from losing Cas and being without his boy all these years.

He turned on the TV, believing that maybe he could find an old rerun of Star Trek or the Twilight Zone running on the retro channel or something, because sometimes, when he watched those shows, he could almost feel Cas' hands running through his hair as he sat beside him studying.

When the screen flicked on, the news was playing. Dean caught a few of the headlines running underneath, and hesitated to change the channel.

A new song started in the background as he watched, Cas' favourite. I Can't Help Falling In Love With You floated its melody over Dean, and he watched in awe of the screen as the reporter talked.

"Gay Marriage in California has just been legalized-"

Dean smiled small at first, then it spread across his cheeks as a happy tear formed in his eye, rolling down his cheek. He nodded, rubbing the spot next to him, and whispered softly to the otherwise empty room.

"I can dig Elvis."