Dean made sure they got a house somewhere nice and away from civilization. Not like they live in a cave or something as un-classy, but having humans nearby while he tries to commit a little murder is hard. Charming the police officers into forgetting it ever happened had become tiring so they moved to somewhere picturesque.
A big ass house on the forest, up a hill so they can see their enemies coming. And none of that cobweb bullshit either. They are in the twenty first century for fuck's sake.
Dean has his house well equipped, security cameras pointing everywhere. Guards on rotation and watching the little screens attentively, because they know if they're good, Dean'll reward them.
There's a lot of rooms where is children, as he has taken to think about the ones he turns, he sleep and fornicate, for lack of a better word, for most of the first month, just until they get their gears in place and can be unleashed in the big bad world who'll either swallow them whole or allow them to rise.
He's so proud of most of them. He even as a deputy, a couple of priests and he's pretty sure he also has a security guard working at the white house.
They'll take the world by assault any time now.
But as great as his house is, it doesn't even come close to the art room.
And if you're thinking that Dean Winchester would deign having something douche-y full of greek statues and stolen lost paintings or some shit then honey you should think better.
The art room is where Cas likes to keep his souls. He has a bit of a thing with eyeballs, Dean thinks he mentioned it before. He says they're the windows to your soul or some shit like that.
"It's not shit, Dean" Cas will say "I used to be an angel of the Lord and I could see flecks of your soul when I looked into your eyes. You have a beautiful soul."
"That was the staring was about?"
"You're also aesthetically pleasing," he adds almost as an afterthought.
Anyways, back to the art room. Dean always thought that it was lame as hell the eyeballs thing, a bit creepy yeah, but mostly lame. So, after he asked Cas and got his assent (otherwise he'd have his balls shopped off) he got to do something with it.
He spent about a month or so getting it just right for his Cas, and that's why he's been a little neglectful of him. But now- now he gets to show it to him and that's the best part of them all.
"If you make me fall on my face I'll withhold blowjobs for a week," Cas mumbles, arms outstretched in front of him as he walks blindly ahead, a tie taking his vision away and Dean's hand laying on his lower back to guide him.
"Aw, baby, as you if you could resist wrapping those pretty lips around my dick," Dean coos, kissing him on the neck.
Dean positions Cas he's directly in front of his piece of art – yeah he called it that shut up.
Slowly he unties the tie from around Cas' eyes letting it drop to the floor, he holds his breath.
Castiel sucks in a sharp breath, eyes wide as he stares and damn right he should stare.
There are two enormous black wings splayed on the wall, big and imposing molded out of clay and painted with incredible detail, eyes sticking out from random places in no particular order, wide and unstaring with an assortment of colors.
"There was this dude called Argus," Dean begins "he was Hera's – Zeus' old lady – bodyguard or some shit. Ya know 'cause Zeus never could really keep it in his pants," he chuckles throatily, making Cas shiver slightly "Anyways, dude turned his lover into a cow and Hera called his bullshit and kept the cow, told Argus to look after her. Legend said he had a hundred eyes so even when he slept he had some of 'em open to see if someone wanted to steal the cow or something. Hermes – Zeus' busboy – managed to talk him into sleep and killed him the little shit. Hera was pissed and made bees sting Zeus' lover into madness, but she liked Argus so she gave his eyes to peacocks and that's why they have all the eyes and shit. And I thought, what better way to keep what's mine than having a hundred thousand eyes watching over it."
Dean grips Cas' chin and spins him around growling "'Cause you're mine, get that Cas," he thumbs at the collar he makes him wear around the house and Cas smiles his brightest smile at him, leans forward and pecks Dean on the mouth, pats his cheek.
"You don't need to go all macho on me to prove something, Dean. I already know you're a sap," he laughs and goddamn the little shit. Just to prove his point, Dean throws Cas over his shoulder and dumps him on the bed. Five minutes and Cas ain't calling him a sap no more. Not when he's pounding into him so hard they'll have to get a new headboard.