Author's Notes:
Written for the SPN Dean/Cas kinkmeme. The original prompt was Dean dreaming of his perfect life with Castiel as his wife. But when he wakes Castiel is there, male yes, but Dean has gotten his subconscious' hint.
I don't know how I managed to turn a prompt that has the potential for something fluffy and sexy into an experimental dive into angst (followed by fluff and sex). So, this seems to be more an experiment than a kink meme fill. Also, I play around with past and present time. It's deliberate and is supposed to have a pattern. ;3
Warnings:a dose of angst, Dean dreams of women that are not Cas and of one that is Cas, deam-female!Castiel, dream-OC children, dream-pregnancy
Spoilers: allusions to seasons 1 - 6, assumes that S6 ended on a lighter note, but it is not elaborated on
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke, Sera Gamble and CW.
This is not beta read therefore I apologize for remaining mistakes. Also, I might have made some slips in my use of tenses, feel free to point them out to me if you come across them.
Edit: I corrected some embarrassing mistakes...! Also, the formatting of this site still eludes me at times. Maybe one day I'll find a prettier way of doing it than with placeholder signs.
Dream's Afterglow
Dean dreams of the dead and the dark and depraved. He sees a world torn open by the claws of monsters and demons and humans gone astray. He sees endless roads and motel rooms and back ally fights. He sees his brother, angry, disappointed and afraid. He sees bones burning. The world slips seamlessly from waking to nightmares and he never feels rested.
He loves the smell of his kitchen, coffee and orange and lavender dishwasher. It's always morning, always time for breakfast, because that's when he catches her alone. Just him and his Mom cutting the crusts off his sandwich. By night she'd be stuck, bleeding from the ceiling and Dean wakes with the taste of ash and peanut butter on his tongue.
-o-
Dean dreams of breaking steel and hospital rooms bleeding life into the darkness beyond. He dreams of yellow eyes, of black eyes and Sam being stuck in a Devil's Trap. He sees the street before him illuminated by the headlights of his car. He sees demons and a desire for destruction and Hell reflected on Sam's face. He still sees just his little brother and wishes Dad were here instead of him.
The air is clear and it is silent. His Dad sits by the fire, hugging Sam as the boy roasts marshmallows. Dean huddles against his father's other side, laughing and watching. Mom should have come camping, there is nothing out here to fear. But Mom is sleeping in the warm bedroom and they are out in the woods. The fire crackles steadily but there is no sound, no heat, no danger. Sam's eyes are illuminated by it, flashing red, flashing dark. But Dad hugs him close and blows on his marshmallow. Sam won't be burnt.
-o-
Dean dreams of dogs and blood. He dreams of his death, of being dragged into a dark pit. He dreams of the weight of Sam in his arms, heavy, slick with blood and dead. He sees crossroads but only one direction he can take. He sees Sam struggle and shout and try and cry. He feels tense and afraid, but he is calm. Sam is back in this world and he will erase himself from existence in return. Gladly, because all he wants is for his brother to be with him, even if his time is ticking away.
Sam brings them breakfast from the diner across the street. He rarely has time to just sit down and talk to him. But now he's free, the term over and the promise to bring Jessica the next time. Dean moved into a small apartment close to college so they didn't have to separate. Sam is making time for him. The clock hanging over the dripping sink is awfully loud. Sam is talking about course work. Dean likes the idea of Jessica coming over next time. They have enough space here even though the wallpaper is ugly and they would need to repaint the ceiling of Sam's room. Sam checks his watch and says he wishes that Dean would not have to go to work so soon. They need more time. Dean cuts the crust off Sam's sandwich.
-o-
Dean dreams in scarlet, brown and pink. He dreams of screams and shallow breathing and all the ways a body can break. He dreams of knives and chains. He dreams of dying and clawing through blood and earth. He sees that it doesn't matter if he's awake or asleep; hell is seared into his body. He sees roads again but he doesn't think they're paved with tar. He sees responsibility and guilt and duty even when he turns his head away. He sees Sam always just out of reach, walking the same street but seeing something else at the beginning and at the end. He hears a voice that speaks harsh but whispers solace. He feels hands that grip tight and pull him back into a life he feels separated from, but he feels loved when blue eyes look at him. He doesn't want to walk down a road he feels unsteady on. He wants to run to where Sam is, catch up, turn him around, walk together.
Anna laughs when Dean tells her he doesn't like Sam's new girlfriend. She's not good for him. Anna might agree or she might not. Dean suspects that she refrains from having an opinion because Ruby keeps Sam entertained. Dean doesn't like the idea that Sam might not return during the holidays, he doesn't know where Ruby wants to go with him. I'm his family, he should listen to me. Anna tells him that he does not get to make the decisions for Sam. But Dean would like to. It's my fault that Sam feels distant; I should not have gone away. Anna refrains from answering when he gets like this. She suggests that at times it is necessary to separate from your family because you need to make your own decisions and own mistakes. I've started it and I need to make amends, Dean reminds her. Anna doesn't like it. It's his choice. She thinks it's time to move out of the apartment. He could get a place closer to hers. A house maybe with white walls where he could wait for Sam to do what he must. Dean doesn't like the idea, it is too close to Zachariah. Anna pours him coffee.
-o-
Dean dreams of blinding white and a loss of all senses. He dreams of a world and destiny stretching through time, from the darkness before and into the confusion of beyond. He dreams of Sam dissolving into nothing, fading until he's nothing more than a white-washed grinning figure. He dreams of pain and fear and failure, of grace trickling away and the raw mess that is left behind. He dreams of ending it all, of losing himself and giving in. He sees the apocalypse raging all around him. He sees demons ripping families apart. He sees all the signs of how frail humans really are and the many ways he failed to protect them. He sees them picking up weapons to fight pointless wars. He sees them starved in the absence of fulfillment and salvation. He sees them succumbing to all the sickness able to afflict the vulnerable shell of human beings. And he sees them die. Over and over again. He's so small, just one human trying to do the right thing. He is broken, shattered, hollow. He is so tired, tired of having to fight, tired of having to be afraid. He has seen too much, lived through too much. He just wants to lie down and sleep and never wake again. There is no faith these days, no faith to be found in anyone and he can no longer trust Sam, he cannot even trust himself anymore. He wants to be needed, he wants to have purpose, he wants his little brother to tell him that he's important. He wants to feel sheltered in the warmth of an embrace, of a house and not be burnt out by an age-old destiny. He wants to be allowed to want. He knows that grief and desperation make him blind. He doesn't feel it when Castiel punches him, he learnt defiance in the face of resignation far too well. But he sees it in hard blue eyes, he hears it in the words lamenting a loss of faith. And he just wants…
Dean still feels a bit chilly in his new house and it doesn't quite fit him. He can hear the sound of floorboards creaking upstairs. It is probably Michael; he's impatient and sulky. Their garden is not ready yet, it's still dark, upturned earth. And he doesn't know the roads well, he doesn't know where they lead and that makes him uncertain. He won't let Michael out of the house before everything is taken care of. Sam's still talking about going to Detroit, but Dean wants the rooms painted first. The main bedroom is dark, full of working tools and ugly red streaks on the wall as if someone had exploded. Jo won't like it, he needs to take care of it before she arrives. Michael is mumbling to himself or on the phone with Zachariah. He wants to go out but he keeps on getting into fights, so Dean tells him no every time he asks.
"Castiel will be here later for dinner, remember to get pie," he tells Sam. His brother doesn't look up from where he's leafing through a catalog. He nods but Dean sees that his mind is still circling around Detroit. "Don't buy a white suit." Sam tells him to shut up, he will buy whatever suit he likes. Dean wonders at what time Cas' gets out of yoga lessons, he might help him decorate the house before dinner. Jo hates doing it, Sam's too busy packing for Detroit and Michael only cares for black and white. Dean thinks of Cas' place, the faint fragrance of incense and the heavy wooden furniture and the Indian touch to his living room. It's always warm and makes him feel at home. Maybe Jo will allow incense in their bedroom. Sam goes to Detroit to buy him apple-pie.
-o-
Dean has got a home. He wears it like an ill-fitting jacket, but he wears it nevertheless because it was a present from Sam. He dreams of his world burning, all-consuming fire and torture. He dreams of the Devil, looking at him through warm brown eyes. He dreams of a world missing colors and the ground breaking to swallow up Sam. He wakes up screaming and trashing and wanting to die. But the Impala is in the garage, his guns are locked away and the absence of danger in the dark slowly burns away the bone-chilling horror. He can feel warmth and love, but he does not feel loved the way he did before. No one that looks at him and knows everything he has ever done just to loves him so profoundly that every other sentiment pales in comparison. So he forces himself to settle down. And he dreams of football games. He dreams of painting the hall and making stains on the tiled floor. He dreams of barbeques and drinking beer with colleagues. He has a home, he has got this life, but below the surface he feels empty and alone.
Until Sam returns and the veil is lifted from his eyes and there is new clarity to the impenetrable shadows of his life. The roads, the kills, the near-death experiences, the car, Sam, Castiel. This is the life he knows. But he still dreams of the lingering warmth of a home. Through the blood and the failure, the loss and the death, the demons and the monsters, he still wishes to be cleaned, to be purged of it all.
-o-
Dean drew the curtain to the side, looking out of the kitchen window. The sky was slightly over-cast, dulling the day into an almost twilight. He frowned, because there's no way he'd get Mary to walk the dog when it rained. He could hear her talking and giggling through the half open door to the living room. He shrugged, then he grabbed the coffee from the counter and sat back down at the table, opening the newspaper for the third time this day. Even on his day off he didn't get to read the paper until after noon.
"Daddy, can I have a snack?" Dean swallowed his coffee and looked over his shoulder. Mary, elbows propped up on the kitchen island, tossing the home telephone from one palm to the other, looked at him. When she had his attention she let her eyes travel to the glass jar with the brownies inside that stood next to a vase with flowers from their garden.
"Wait until Mom's back, okay?" he told her and Mary made an impatient noise, but didn't argue with him. He studied her for a while, her green eyes still fixed on the brownies, her nose and cheeks full of freckles, her lips were slightly puckered and he knew she was dragging her tongue over the gap where she had knocked a loose tooth out during baseball practice. She looked up, catching him smiling at her and her dark blonde eyebrows rose. She tilted her head, her wavy hair falling over her shoulders.
"What?" she asked, and when Dean just shrugged with a grin, she straightened, stretching her arms towards him, hands around the phone. "I'm going to call a friend!" Hadn't she just finished talking? But Dean lifted his hand, vaguely gesturing towards the door.
"But don't take too long! If it doesn't rain you're going to walk the dog!" he reminded her, hearing her run up the stairs.
"Okaaay!" Dean turned back to his coffee and newspaper when the door upstairs slammed shut, picking up the pen lying on the notepad next to him and twirling it around. He needed to call Sam later on, confirm that he could come and pick up the girls at seven. He could see his wife's neat handwriting on top of the page, a list of numbers, people to call for their dinner next weekend. He pulled the paper off the pad and got up to pin it to the fridge with one of the colorful magnets. He picked up the magnetic letters that had fallen off the board that hung low on the wall next to the fridge, sticking them back on the board where it now read Whiskey. Next to it Samantha had drawn a bloated figure with yellow chalk that looked like a cloud but probably was supposed to be their dog.
Dean looked up when he heard a car pull up outside. He folded the newspaper and switched on the water cooker. The door opened and closed and he felt his mouth pull into a smile.
"Samantha Beth, take off your shoes," his wife's voice called and he pulled her favorite cup out of the cabinet. "Hello Dean." His wife walked into the kitchen, still dressed in her overcoat, holding two grocery bags that she put on the table. He walked over to her, putting his palm on the small of her back.
"Hey honey," he said gently, kissing her on the lips when she turned towards him. "How was the appointment?"
"Good," she replied, her blue eyes checking the contents of the bags, while her hands reached out to rub circles over her husband's shoulder blades.
"Care to elaborate, Cas?" Dean asked with a laugh, pulling the overcoat off her shoulders. It was slightly wet and looking out the window he saw a spray of rain coming from the darkening sky. So much for Mary walking the dog then, he'll just have Sam do it. Dean reached out to comb his fingers through Cas's hair, wavy and unruly thanks to the rain. The noise of feet dragging over the wooden tiles alerted Dean to the presence of his daughter. The four-year-old wore a prominent pout, her brown hair sticking out in all directions, but her eyes lit up when she saw him. The pout however, remained.
"Hey baby, what's with the cross face?" he wondered and she shrugged, walking up to the fridge without a word. Dean watched her pull out juice, drink and put it back in before she turned to him again.
"Samantha Beth, ask Daddy for a glass next time," Cas reprimanded gently and Samantha smacked her lips at her, licking the last drops of orange juice away, but she nodded. "Apparently a girl made fun of her plaits," Cas went on to explain and Samantha's eyes darkened. Dean chuckled and picked her up.
"So you prefer a bird's nest on your head, like Mommy?" Cas picked up her tea wordlessly, ignoring her husband's comment. "I like your hair." He kissed her head that smelt of orange and lavender. Samantha grinned, messing up her dark hair with her small hands.
"I want to play with Whiskey," she announced and Dean put her back down on her feet.
"Then go, I think he's in Mary's room," he said and when the girl ran off he added: "and tell your sister to get off the phone!" Dean sighed at the loud noise Samantha made running up the stairs, scratching the back of his neck, then he turned back to Cas and grinned at her. She was sipping her tea, but he could see the smile forming around the edge of the cup.
"Okay, Cas, out with it," he urged and she put the tea cup down slowly.
"Well," she started and traced the edge of the counter with her fingers, looking at Dean with her head slightly tilted, "I think God chose to indulge you this time." Dean broke out in an ecstatic grin, hissed a yes! and balled his fists in victory. Cas smiled at her husband's apparent joy.
"A boy, Cas!" Dean said in a sing-song voice and made a dancing motion, before he grabbed his wife and kissed her. "We're going to have a boy!" He looked at her, her eyes slightly wide in surprise, her hair tousled as always. Dean's expression softened and he traced her jaw with his fingers adoringly. "That's perfect… You're perfect." She smiled and put her hand in his neck to pull him down into a kiss.
"Can I have a snack now? When you're done smooching, please?" Mary's voice said flatly and Dean looked past Cas' face at his daughter leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. He winked at her and continued kissing his wife. Mary snorted when he put extra care in making loud smacking noises when kissing Cas. "I take a brownie. Oh, you're not looking. I take two. Why not three?" Mary talked to herself, loud enough to be heard over the kissing noises. Cas put her hands on Dean's chest and pushed herself away, but remained close enough for Dean to continue holding her.
"Mary Grace, you are going to have dinner in a few hours, don't fill your stomach with chocolate," she told her and Mary stuffed the second brownie into her mouth, wearing an innocent expression on her face.
"But we're only going to eat salad at Aunt Becky's and Uncle Sam's place!" she protested when Cas walked over to the kitchen island and put the lid back onto the glass jar. "Mom…! Please! Only salad!"
"Aunt Becky gives us cookies. I like Aunt Becky's cookies," Samantha, who had walked back into the kitchen, announced. She had a pink Barbie comb in her hand, dragging it through her hair with a look of concentration on her face. "And we eat fries too, not only salad. Salad, fries and cookies." Mary put her hands on her cheeks, pulling them down into a suffering grimace. Dean laughed at that and Cas shook her head.
"Okay, girls. You're both here, so let's help putting away the shopping!"
Later, Cas was on the phone, chatting to Dean's mother about the dinner next weekend and Dean fell asleep on the couch thinking about what to call his first son.
-o-
Dean feels disoriented at first when he is roused from sleep by Sam hitting his foot. They pack their things, holy water, guns, knives, bloody towels. The Impala, his music and back on the road. He knows this, he is used to this. Hunting monsters, hunting Eve, seeing houses painted in blood, carcasses, victims, people they couldn't save. It's the same, with Sam, the heavy weight of purpose and responsibility pushing down on him. Distantly he thinks about a list pinned to the fridge, there are people to call. They eat in diners, cheap watery coffee, pancakes, greasy sausages, burgers, Sam and his salad. He wonder if Becky bakes cookies. They have the problem at hand, but he doesn't understand it. There is too much he doesn't understand anymore and he's like a pawn that gets moved over the chess board. He doesn't know who is playing, he doesn't know what else lurks on the board, not his enemies, not his allies, he doesn't know what the stakes are and he doesn't know how to jump off the board, he just knows he wants to. Another motel, stitching Sam up again, drinking beer, Bobby on the phone talking about something, this is family, this is normal. But the hunting isn't, everything has changed and he feels restless, hollow. He wants to call Cas, just talk to him, see his blue eyes directed at him, but even Cas has changed. He wonders just how deep their profound bond still goes.
-o-
"Congratulations you two. Eight years, wow." Sam stepped into their entrance hall, pulling Cas into a hug. "Each year I'm surprised that Cas still puts up with you," he teased and let Cas go again, hitting Dean's shoulder.
"Aw, shut up, Sam," Dean snorted, "you wanna drink a coffee?" Sam nodded and followed Dean into the kitchen while Cas informed the girls that their uncle was here to pick them up.
"How's work?" Dean wondered, switching on the coffee machine. Sam grabbed a chair and sat down at the table.
"Hn, fine. You know I don't work big cases yet, but I think I'm getting there," Sam replied, taking the coffee Dean handed him. "How about you?" Dean shrugged, leaning against the counter.
"Cas tries to get me into teaching engineering at college. But I don't know, man… I like being able to actually use my hands from time to time," he answered, drawing his hand through his hair. "But you know, with another kid on the way I need to make more time for my family. Cas has her own stuff to deal with, I can't expect her to stay here at home all the time." Sam nodded, smiling at his brother, but then there was noise coming from the hall and Mary and Samantha burst into the kitchen, followed by a thrilled Whiskey.
"Uncle Sam!" Sam stood up at once and both girls jumped into his arms, the dog circling his legs.
"Hey girls! Good to see you!" Sam laughed, putting a kiss on each girl's cheek, then he let them go again. "Just let me drink my coffee and then we can go, okay?"
"Drink fast! Come on!" Samantha urged, pulling at the hem of his shirt. "Faster, faster! I wanna eat Aunt Becky's cookies!" Sam lifted one hand to calm her down, trying to drink his coffee as fast as possible without choking.
"Cookies? What cookies?" Sam wondered and the brothers both had to laugh when Samantha's face fell and she opened her mouth in silent outrage.
"He's joking, Sama," Mary informed her with a snort and Samantha breathed out in relief. "Come on! There's a show I want to see!"
"And who says there's TV?" Sam wondered teasingly and Mary shot him a look, eyebrows drawn up.
"Because me and Aunt Becky watch it together?" she counters and Sam burst out laughing, shaking his head.
"Your wife is corrupting my seven year old kid…," Dean muttered, but then he clapped his hands, ushering the others out of the kitchen. "Now, go! Go! It's Mommy and Daddy time!" Cas was still in the entrance hall, rechecking the girls' backpacks.
"Honey, they're only gone for a day, don't fret!" Cas snorted, but then she helped the girls into their jackets and kissed them both.
"Behave yourselves," she warned and when they nodded eagerly, she kissed them again. Dean also kissed them both and ruffled their hair (which Mary didn't like at all).
"Again, thanks, Sam," he told his brother and hugged him.
"Ah, don't mention it. Enjoy your anniversary," Sam replied with a wink, waving at the two, then he guided the kids and dog outside and into his car. Cas watched them drive off, then she turned to Dean. He liked his lips in anticipation when he saw the look in her eyes.
"So…"
-o-
Dean figures he needs to see Cas, just for the sake of it. Eve is still elusive, but the trail of destruction she leaves behind remains massive. He's just tired of groping in the dark. Even if they find a way to kill her, Dean doesn't know if it will ever stop. Hell, Heaven, Purgatory… there probably were a whole lot of other mystical realms around that could rear their ugly heads at any time. He knows nothing, nothing beyond the streets and how to cheat, how to lie, how to kill. He doesn't even know how to die properly and he certainly doesn't know how to live somebody else's dream. Sleep is rare and he rarely has time to dream. But the feelings from sleep bleed over into his waking world. A comforting warmth pooling in his stomach that gets him through dark days. So he prays for Cas.
"I know you're busy… And I have nothing here you might be interested in… I just want to talk. Please, Cas." He's surprised when Cas appears next to him, leaning against the Impala like Dean does. Dean can't help smiling and even though Cas feels distant, his eyes are the same.
"Why are you laughing?" Cas wonders calmly, but there still is a hint of irritation in his voice. Dean just shakes his head, still chuckling slightly. "What did you want to talk about?" Dean steps away from the Impala to turn around and opens the door.
"Nothing in particular," he says silently and looks at the angel with a grin. "Sam's taking care of things, so I'm free. I want to take you out, get some nice food in an actual restaurant. It's been far too long since we've spent time together." Castiel doesn't reply for a long moment and Dean assumes that he'll fly off. Because there are more important things to do, there is a war to fight in Heaven, there are weapons he needs to chase down, there is Eve to find and there is Dean's life to protect. But Cas stays and gets into the car.
-o-
Dean didn't even bother to close the door to their bed-room. They were alone, not even Whiskey is around to pester them. Cas' coat was lost in the entrance hall, Dean's jacket somewhere on the stairs. He kissed her neck and followed the curve of her spine with his lips as he pulled down the zipper of her dress. A kiss and a lick for each vertebra and Cas arched into his gentle caresses with soft sighs of adoration.
"I liked the restaurant, we should go there again," Cas whispered and Dean kissed his way back up, then he encircled her waist with his arms, his hands linking over her stomach. She was delicate, with a slim waist and he coul feel the slight rise of her stomach. Robert John, he had made up his mind, but he still had to wait months, right now he was nothing more than a barely noticeable curve of his wonderful wife's belly.
"Ah," Dean whispered and trailed kissed up her shoulder and neck, "you had your way with me after Sam left. I thought we wouldn't get any dinner at all even though I made reservations three months ago." Cas huffed, then she turned around in his arms.
"Dean," she whispered and Dean lost himself in the sensation of her soft lips against his. In the wet warmth of her mouth, her hot, moist breath against his cheek. The world narrowed until Cas was the only thing he focused on. Her skin was pale when he pulled her black dress down her body. His hands glided smoothly over her stockings and he tugged his fingertips under the elastic of the top, pulling the fabric down. He planted a kiss on her knee, then to the side of her knee and worked back up her thigh. She sat down on the bed, the hand on the back of his head gently urging him to follow her. He had unraveled the secrets of her beautiful body countless times before, still he always felt an inexhaustible rush of excitement. He ran his hands over her body, mapping every curve, spotting every freckle, every mole, every little scar. He knew her so well, still he wished to rediscover her every time. She guided them both to the mattress, legs on either side of his hips and looked up at him with searching eyes. She smiled at him, caressing his cheek.
"You're so beautiful," he said huskily, licking the salty skin of her chest as she stripped him of his clothes. "Cas…" He let out a shaky breath when her blunt fingernails scrapped over his back and buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. Purifying. "Cas…"
"Sssh…," she hushed him gently, one hand travelling up to the back of his head, combing her fingers through his hair. "I love you, Dean."
-o-
Dean tastes ash and blood and victory. Eve is nothing more than a bad taste in his mouth, but he knows that this was not the end of it. Cas leaves to fight his own battles and Dean gets into the impala, Sam at his side and they drive. They are tired, so tired in the face of a world that keeps on spinning after another averted end.
"Why don't we settle down? Just for a while," Dean suggests wearily, slumping in his seat. Sam turns his head to study his brother. "Rent a little place, try to rest…" He hears Sam shift in his seat, but he nods. "Do you know," Dean starts again. He is tired, he would like the silence, shutting himself down to focus only on driving. And Sam would probably want to sleep too, but he still chooses to speak. "That I've been dreaming?" Sam reacts to that and moves a bit closer.
"Hell…?" he wonders silently and even though Dean doesn't turn to look at his brother, he can hear the pain in his voice. Dean laughs and even if it's just a small sound, barely above a whisper, it warms him. The familiar warmth spreads through him and he feels almost comfortable. There's the pain of his injuries and lingering fear, but there's also a promise of something else there. A dream, a wish, a want. And he deserves this. He knows.
"No, but you want to talk about it?" Dean wonders and takes his eyes off the street for long enough to search Sam's face. Sam is half-asleep and Dean reaches out, wraps his arm around Sam's shoulder and pulls him a bit closer. He doesn't care that this is not his style. Sam doesn't complain. He rests his head on Dean's shoulder.
"Thank you. Not now…," Sam mumbles and Dean focuses on the street again. "What were you dreaming about?" Dean feels a smile tugging at his lips.
"A perfect life." Sam voices a surprised mmmh? at him and Dean breaks out into a grin. "I have a house, I'm an engineer, university degree and all. I've got a wife, a puppy and 2.5 kids. Two girls and a boy in the making." Sam chuckles at that. "And you're married to Becky." Now his brother bursts out laughing. Dean grins too.
Dean doesn't tell him that he's been married to Cas for 8 years, that they've met when Cas's Dad had sent her to his apartment door, inviting him to their congregations barbeque, that Dean nearly dropped out of university to elope he was so head over heels in love with her or that Cas had proposed to him in the most romantic way possible. He doesn't tell him how wonderful she looked in a wedding dress, how Sam had cried his eyes out and how proud their parents had been. He doesn't tell him how beautiful Mary and Samantha are, how Whiskey always chases his own tail, that his garden is full of flowers and berries. He doesn't tell him how happy he was that Sam hooked up with Becky, how content he is. He doesn't tell him how good he feels at home. He doesn't tell him how much he loves Cas. Sam looks up at him and smiles.
-o-
Dean woke up slowly, blinking at the light coming through their curtains. He sniffed and wiped his face, then he turned to the side. He was met with Cas looking at him with a smile on her face.
"Hey, love," he whispered and wrapped his arm around her naked shoulder, inching closer to kiss her. She was warm, sleepy and soft in his arms.
"What were you dreaming about?" she asked and he smiled at her, wiping her unruly hair out of her face.
"Driving around in my car with Sam… The usual," he told her, letting his fingers brush over her shoulder absent-mindedly.
"Well. Do you want breakfast then?" she wondered and Dean lifted his arm, letting her sit up. He watched her stretch and walk over to the wardrobe to dress.
"Can't we eat naked?" Dean suggested, sad to see her pull on underwear. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, "Aww… Cas…" She pulled a white gown over her head and Dean assumed that a sexy night-gown was fine as well. He pulled on comfortable pajama pants and a shirt, then he followed her downstairs, picking up random pieces of clothing, shoes and Cas' purse.
"Scrambled eggs? Pancakes?" Cas wondered and Dean flopped down on the chair, stretching his legs. The house was silent and felt a bit empty without Mary and Samantha, but he knew how to appreciate it. They would be back by noon. Dean watched his wife walking around the kitchen, reaching for mugs, for the pan and the plates. God, how he loved her.
"Castiel?" he called and she stopped moving about. When she turned she looked at him with confusion on her face. He rarely called her that anymore.
"Yes, Dean?" He smiled at her, rubbing his palms together to busy himself. Why was he being shy now?
"I love you," he told her and she tilted her head to the side. Then she walked over to the table, pulled the chair out and sat down, her right hand on his upper arm.
"I know, Dean," she told him, smiling gently. "I love you too." He laughed and lowered his head. He licked his lips before continuing.
"Just… I just wanted to tell you. To tell you that you're perfect and you're the best thing that has ever happened to me. Everything I've ever wanted, you've enabled me to get. Our perfect family, our beautiful daughters and little Robert John in there." Cas grinned at that, shaking her head, but then the attentive look returned to her face. "It's perfect. So… Castiel… Thank you for making my dreams come true. Thank you." His voice broke and he had to lift his hand to wipe his eyes. Cas leant towards him and folded him in a strong and comforting embrace.
"You're welcome. I'd do anything for you, Dean." Dean nodded and kissed her. She waited until he was composed again before she let him go. She covered his hands, fidgeting nervously on the table top, with hers, giving them a light squeeze.
"Well," Dean said, clearing his throat, "how about we do something a little different now?" Cas looked at him. "Why don't we just walk over to the diner? Get some watery coffee and greasy food when we don't have to make sure the kids are eating healthy?" Cas laughed at that.
"In our pajamas?"
"In our pajamas," Dean answered enthusiastically, getting up on his feet. Cas rolled her eyes.
"Dean Winchester, this is silly," she warned him, but also got up. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the kitchen and into the corridor. They pulled on fluffy slippers, overcoat and leather jacket in the entrance hall. It was a perfectly bright day when Dean opened the door and stepped out. Cas next to him was laughing when he dragged her across the front lawn, through flowers and warm sunlight. She paused at the gate in their white fence and looked at the person waiting on their side-walk, then at Dean. Dean smiled at her and kissed her smiling lips, then he stepped through the gate.
"Hello Dean," Cas greeted and Dean grinned at him.
-o-
The house is creaking and groaning, plaster is falling off, the kitchen sink is dripping and the furniture is mismatched. But it was cheap, the neighborhood is acceptable and it is not haunted. At least not anymore. The best they could do to start off into normal life with hunting on the side, instead of hunting with normal life as an ever elusive wish. Sam's preparing to get back into Stanford and Bobby does enough meddling and calling in favors that it should be easy enough.
His bedroom is a post-Ikea mess, all cardboard boxes and wrappers and new furniture, but at least the walls are painted, his clothes see a closet from the inside for the first time since living with Lisa and he's got books that aren't centuries old up on the shelves. He blinks sleep away, the feeling of warmth and kisses and Cas' body pressed into his linger with him. But he smiles, sits up and Castiel is there, standing at the foot of his bed.
"Hey… You're back," Dean says, "does that mean you won the war?" Cas doesn't show him a big victorious grin or anything, but his eyes soften and his mouth shifts into a shy smile. Dean grins and gets up. Cas seems alert, almost taking a step backwards when Dean walks towards him with sure steps. When Dean wraps his arms around Cas it's exactly as he remembers – he's warm and firm, his waist is slender when Dean wraps his arm around it and he smells fresh. Cas lifts his arms, uncertain at first, but then he wraps them around Dean as well, his palms resting flat on his shoulder blades. "I'm glad…"
"As am I," Cas says gently and Dean can hear the fondness in his voice, "there remain things to be done, but Heaven is free of war now." Dean knows that if he doesn't move Cas will never break the embrace on his own accord. He doesn't possess the ability to tell when a hug becomes awkward or when his staring becomes creepy. So he lets him go, but does not step away more than half an arm's length.
"What will you do now, Cas?" Dean asks and Cas lowers his head and Dean waits. When Cas raises his head again his eyes shine brightly and Dean's chest aches.
"I want to make sure that Sam and you are doing well…," he said and looks around the room, "I want you to be well and happy." Dean looks at him, then he wipes his hand over his mouth, nodding. "Are you happy?" Dean takes a step backwards, turning around slightly. "Dean?"
"Yes… Yes. I'm trying to build up a life outside of hunting. It's small steps, but I'm going to get there this time," he said, his voice thick with emotions.
"I hope you do. You deserve peace, you deserve a family," Cas starts, but Dean shakes his head.
"Cas…," he breathes and the angel quiets, waiting. "Just… I don't know if it's for me… Normal life? A job, a house?" He turns back around to find Cas standing before him, his expression patient, calm, but also warm. "For years I had no clue what I really wanted. Family's always been important to me… And Sam will be enough, I'll be happy. But… I've been dreaming about it and this… the memories of what I had…" He looks up, timid almost but Cas wears a small smile. Realization hits Dean. "You've seen it."
"I have walked into your dream," he agrees, then he lowers his head slightly, eyes still fixed on Dean's. "My apologies, I think that the timing might not have been ideal." Dean felt his face heat up a bit, but he shrugged it off.
"You know… I wish I could have that," Dean says silently.
"I will stay if you want me to and if I must go, I will always come when you call," Cas assured him, then he steps forwards and hugs Dean gently. Dean's a bit surprised by Cas initiating it, but he's glad. He wants it. Almost desperately.
"Then stay. Please. I want to make this work. I don't just want to dream of it. I want it. All of it." He presses his lips to the side of Cas' neck and breathes in his scent. It feels cleansing, like Holy Water or a spring shower. And it's not difficult to say it. "I love you, Cas."
"I love you too, Dean." Dean pulls back, so that he can look into Cas' face. He sees the adoration there, the trust, the faith and he's beautiful. Dean wets his lips, bites back a shaky breath and leans in to kiss him. He's done kissing before, he's kissed his wife in dreams countless times and Cas is perfect under his lips, soft and warm and inviting.
The bed is still warm and becomes a mess of sheets and clothes and tangles limbs. In the morning light coming in through the shutters Dean sees Cas in shadows and patches of light, he feels him with his palms, maps his body as it arches into his touches. He's silent and the bed creaks and Dean breathes heavily against Cas' pale skin. And it's perfect and warm and he feels loved and maybe he's crying but he doesn't mind. Cas kisses him, with his mouth open in silent gasps as Dean moves against him, but he can feel him calling his name. Dean, Dean, Dean. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.
-o-
Dean keeps a board next to the fridge and Sam pins his timetable there, next to Dean's working hours and Cas' list of people to call and things to buy. The house gets warmer, Sam paints the walls, Dean fixes stuff and Cas grows flowers in the backyard. Bobby visits, it rains on their barbeque and they party in the basement. Dean dreams of children and Cas says he needs to pray a little harder. Cas teaches Becky how to bake cookies and Sam eats almost all of them. Dean scribbles at night when Cas pretends to sleep, Sam wants to plant vegetables and Cas studies cookbooks like they're the new gospel. Dean puts on weight and he gets into the Impala to go hunt some ghosts. He holds on to his notes, memorizing the perfect words on the way back home, but when he sees Cas he tosses them and gets on his knees in the kitchen. Between one kiss and the next Cas says Yes and Sam goes and buys a black suit.
Dean still dreams and but he prefers being awake.
FIN
Notes:
I know that the kids' names aren't all that imaginative, but I entirely blame it on the show itself. Recycling names seems to be a Winchester family tradition! I feel a bit sorry for Sam though if Dean hogs all the names...
Feedback would be lovely~