And we've reached the end of the line for the PA 'verse. Thanks for coming along for the ride, and thanks for all your reviews!
(Note - I imagine there will be a lot of changes in thirty years, especially where technology and healthcare is concerned. For the sake of this story, I chose not to bog it down with speculative fiction about the future. I wanted to keep it a story about the love shared between Dean and Cas. I hope I succeeded.)
The remission stage seemed like it was going to stick around for awhile, and for that, Cas was incredibly grateful. Winter passed and spring bloomed on their property, the bees becoming more active as leaves opened on the branches and flowers spread their petals. April turned into May and the weather grew much warmer.
Dean had been doing so well. He was making an effort to inform Cas of any difficulties he was having, and the communication helped them both. They took both girls to Disney World at the end of May, and although Dean had to use a wheelchair for a lot of it, he still got on as many rides as he could handle. After their fourth run of Pirates of the Caribbean, Cas cut him off.
In the early days of June, their backyard was decorated with streamers, fairy lights, and candles, and Cas held Dean's hand as David and Elena tied the knot. Two weeks after that, David announced his candidacy for President, and talked about hiring a bodyguard for his fathers. Dean complained loud and long about that, but no one really listened. At night, Cas and Dean would lay in bed and talk about how worried they were. Proud, but worried.
July marked one year since they'd left the firehouse, and Cas finally convinced Dean to let him drive down to Remington to see it. Cas was pleased at the smile that formed on Dean's face as they pulled up.
Every window displayed brightly colored art projects, and a banner over the main doors read Baltimore Childrens Art Center in electric blue letters. The big doors had been painted with a park scene depicting small children running with kites and kicking balls.
"This is exactly what I'd hoped for," Dean said softly, staring in wonder.
"I called ahead. They're expecting us."
"Awesome!"
Cas helped Dean from the car, pleased that he was able to walk normally. That would go a long way to ensuring he enjoyed this trip.
"Hi guys!" Charlie bounced out the front door. "The kids are so excited to meet you two today." She took Dean's arm. "I still can't believe this is the first time I've gotten you down here to see it."
"Well, y'know. Was kinda raw for me. Spent most of my life in here," Dean said, staring up at the building. "Was the only real home I ever had."
"I know," she smiled, patting his hand. "C'mon." She pushed the door open and led them into what used to be Dean's studio.
Both of them stopped dead and just stared.
Color exploded from every surface. Streamers and fairy lights hung from the ceiling. It smelled of paint, popcorn, and that particular smell that seemed to follow small children. A large banner had been strung from one end of the space to the other, painted with Thank You Dean & Cas in large, slightly drippy red letters, decorated with a rainbow of different sized handprints.
"Wow -" Dean said softly.
"What did you expect? You practically donated the place."
"No, we sold it -"
"For a quarter of what it was appraised for. Please. Come on, I want you to meet Nancy." Charlie took Dean's hand and led him to a door in the wall that hadn't been there before. "Since so many of the kiddies are disabled, we had an elevator installed. I think it would be easier on you, too. Ok?"
"Wow, cool! Cas, why didn't we get an elevator installed? I could have stayed here!"
"But then the children wouldn't have this," Cas gently reminded him.
"Oh, yeah."
The elevator door opened on the second floor, and Cas watched as Dean's jaw dropped.
Color. Color everywhere.
The children didn't seem to notice their arrival. A young lady in the corner near what had been Sam's bedroom was busy helping two girls in wheelchairs make handprints on paper.
"That's Nancy Fitzgerald. She's in charge of planning the curriculum." Charlie pointed to a dark haired woman across the room. "And I'm sure you remember -"
"Krissy Chambers. Holy shit," Dean murmured.
"Yup, as soon as she heard what we were doing, she jumped on board."
Krissy looked up then, eyes lighting up when she saw Dean standing in the kitchen. "Mr. Winchester!" she yelled, causing dozens of eyes to turn their way. Cas could feel Dean's embarrassment.
"Everyone," Charlie called to the students, "This is Cas and Dean. They used to own the firehouse."
The children all applauded, some cheered, as Krissy wove her way across the room. "Can I hug you Mr. Winchester?"
"Only if you call me Dean, ok?"
Krissy's eyes lit up as she threw herself into Dean's arms. "I'm so happy you finally came to see it. Nancy and I have been working so hard and even Kevin comes in to help."
"You and Kevin still buds?"
Blushing, she looked down at her hand. "We're getting married," she smiled.
"Well. Only took you thirty years."
"Shut up," she grinned, playfully punching his arm.
"Proud of you," Dean smiled, but wobbled slightly.
"Ok, let's get you a chair," Cas said, pulling him towards an available seat. Dean was still eyeing everything around them and didn't complain or resist when Cas made him sit. It was a small win, but he'd take it.
Dean happily squelched his paint covered hand onto the paper, turning to laugh at the child beside him. His name was Ben, he was thirteen, and he had cerebral palsy. Didn't slow him down a bit.
The boy clapped his hands. "Do it again!" he yelled, so Dean coated his hand in green this time, smacking it down on the paper.
"Whoa! Look how cool that looks! You can still see some of the red."
"Like a bleedin' t-rex!" Ben told him. "When it dries, we'll add some beady t-rex eyes."
"Dude, I am so down with that."
"Cool!"
"What's that?" Ben asked, pointing to another section of the paper, where Dean had painstakingly drawn four symbols.
"Oh, that's for Led Zeppelin. The band members thought it would be awesome to make a symbol for each of their names." He pointed to the one that looked like the letters Zoso. "That's for Robert Plant. He was the lead singer. Could wail like no other." He pointed out Page's symbol. "Jimmy Page. Probably one of the greatest guitarists the world has ever known. John Paul Jones, bassist extraordinaire. And John Bonham, best drummer in the universe, gone well before his time."
"Dude, you really love them, don't you?"
"Yup, check it out." He pulled up the sleeve of his tee, revealing the tattoo of the Hermit. "This figure was inside the center fold of Zep IV. And I've got a couple of song lyrics tattooed in other places, too."
"That is so awesome," Ben enthused. "I like AC/DC. They're my favorite old music."
"Old music, huh?"
"Well, yeah. The 1970's was like, forever ago!"
"I was born in the 1970's -"
"Wow! You're really old!"
"Thanks."
"Ok, Ben, time to clean up. Mom's coming."
"Aw, do I have to? I want to hang out with Dean. He's cool for a really old dude."
Krissy laughed. "Not nice, Ben. He's not that old."
"Well, you're old and he's older than you."
"Jeez, kid, you're on a roll." Krissy cast Dean an apologetic smile.
Nancy took the handles of Ben's chair. "I'll take him," she said.
"Thanks." Krissy gathered some paper towels and handed them to Dean. "Need some help?"
"Yeah, I'm a little messy."
Smiling, she gently took his hand and wiped away as much of the paint as she could. "You know, I don't think I ever thanked you," she said softly.
"For what?"
"For believing in me."
"Well, uh - y'know, I um," Dean stumbled.
"Look, my dad always encouraged me," Krissy told him, setting the towels aside. "But you were the first person that really told me I had talent. And it meant so much coming from you. Some of us, like Kevin and Tracy and Josephine - we knew who you were. We'd looked you up. You were a pretty well known artist in the early part of the 2000's. And then you were our teacher. Whatever," she said, waving off his protests, "when Dean Winchester looked at my work and said you have talent, you'll go far, it changed my whole outlook, my whole career path. I've had a great career as a graphic artist and that's all because of you. So thank you." She patted his hand.
Dean swallowed. Tears burned in his eyes, but he blinked them back. "I um, I'm glad things have gone so good for you," he murmured, overwhelmed by her words.
Krissy grinned. "They really have." Her eyes focused on someone just behind them. "They've gone pretty good for you, too," she said with a wink.
"Having fun?" Cas sat down beside him, admiring the handprints. "These are very colorful. Ben seems talented."
"Yeah. He's a cool kid. Despite thinking I'm ancient."
"Wait - you aren't?"
Krissy and Cas both laughed.
"Oh, very funny." Dean looked down at his green hand. "I need to go wash." He stood, and the room tilted and spun. "Whoa."
"You ok?" Cas got to his feet immediately, he and Krissy both reaching out to steady him.
"Yeah. I just - think I got up too fast." He blinked, and the spinning stopped. "Yeah, seriously, I'm fine now. I really do think I got up too fast."
"Alright. But let's get you cleaned up and head home. Ok?"
"Yup. Can we come back some time? I really got a lot out of this and the kids are great."
"Absolutely."
"Next time, maybe you can show off some of your work, huh?" Krissy squeezed his arm. "The kids would love it."
"Yeah. Sounds like a plan, kiddo."
She smiled. "Awesome."
On the ride home, Dean stared out the window as the countryside whipped by. "You know, I thought it would really hurt to see the place again, after living so much of my life there. But it's so full of energy, so full of life, and those kids are so happy," he reached across the seat and took Cas's free hand. "Thank you for making me go. It was so worth it. Every bit."
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I am concerned about the moment of vertigo, however. You're sure you're ok?"
"Yeah. I promised you I wouldn't hide stuff anymore and I meant it. I think I need to get out of chairs a little slower. I kinda bounced out of my seat like a twenty-something and I just can't do that anymore. I'm learning, Cas. I know I have limits that I didn't have before. It's going to take me a while to learn all of them. Just be patient with me, ok?"
Cas squeezed his hand and tossed his beautiful gummy grin at Dean. It made his heart warm all the way down to his toes.
"I will be endlessly patient with you, my love."
"Thanks."
"No thanks needed."
…
Three days later, Dean opened the fridge and grunted.
"What?" Cas looked up from his crossword. "What's wrong?"
"No milk. Wanted some milk."
"I'm going to the store later. Add it to my list."
"But I want it now."
"Do you have to be a child?"
"Not bein' a child," Dean muttered. "What happened to endlessly patient?" he said under his breath.
"I will get milk when I go to the store, ok?"
"Whatever." He dropped down into a chair.
"Hello, boys," Janne called, letting herself in. "I brought some of the prettiest apples I've ever seen," she ruffled Dean's hair as she passed him. "Gonna make the grumpy old man a pie."
"Did you bring any milk?"
"Oh, for Christ's sake I said I'd get milk!" Cas slammed his pencil on the table.
"Well, trouble in paradise this morning?"
"No. I'm going to the store. I'll be back." Cas gathered his things and slammed out of the house.
"What did you do to him?" Janne asked, hand on her hip.
"I dunno. I just wanted some milk."
"Hmmph."
"I'm going to go take a shower," Dean muttered defeatedly.
In their bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers, tossing them in the hamper. He walked into their bathroom, reaching down to turn on the water. While it warmed up, he took care of business at the toilet, pleased that everything was in proper working order. It was a good day when the bowels and bladder were doing their jobs.
He stood, and the bathroom tilted on a dizzying angle. "Whoa. Not again," he groaned, reached out for the wall. Dean stood there, breathing, waiting for the dizziness to pass. "That is nine kinds of not fun," he muttered to himself.
Looking at the shower, he decided that taking one while Cas wasn't around probably wasn't a good idea, not with the way the dizziness didn't seem to be abating.
He reached to turn off the water, and his balance disappeared.
The last thing Dean saw was the edge of the tub rushing up to meet him.
Not again.
Not again.
Not when he didn't - not when the last thing he'd said to Dean was a disparaging comment about the damn milk.
"Oh, god," he murmured, hiding his face in his hands.
"Almost there, Papa. Going as fast as I can."
Janne had ridden in the ambulance with Dean. They'd taken him to Upper Chesapeake, but concern over his vitals had led them to airlift Dean to Johns Hopkins where Tiana was waiting. Tiana sent Mei to pick Cas up, concerned that he'd be too upset to drive.
Tiana was a very smart woman.
Mei navigated the city streets with ease, finding a spot in the parking garage quickly. Cas was out of the car before she even had it in park.
"Papa, wait!"
Cas didn't listen. He took off in the direction of the hospital. The only thought in his head was find Dean.
"I need to know where Dean Novak-Winchester is," he demanded at the desk.
"Um, just one moment," the harried receptionist replied as she started typing.
"Papa!" Tiana appeared from out of nowhere, rushing forward and taking his arm. "It's ok, Lydia, I have this. Where's Mei?"
"I don't know. Where's Dean?"
"He's getting settled in. Calm down, he's fine. He just scared them up in Bel Air, so they moved him here."
"Scared them how?"
"Well, he wasn't responding to stimulus at first, and with his serious head injury back in 2001, they weren't taking any chances. Halfway here, he started coming around and talking to the medics. Daddy's got a mild concussion and a broken nose, not to mention a whole lot of bruising, but he's ok."
Cas let his breath out in a woosh, his whole body sagging.
"Papa, you're shaking. Let's go get you a cup of tea."
"No, I'm fine. Take me to him, please."
Tiana frowned. "Let the nurses get him settled. Tea first, ok?" She took his arm, gently steering him towards the cafeteria.
"No, I want to - I need to see him. Dean first."
"Papa!" Mei's voice was raised and irritated. "Why did you run away from me like that?" She skidded to a stop in front of him, black hair mussed and face flushed. "That was not cool!"
"I want to see your father! Why won't you take me to him?!" He whirled back to face Tiana. "Take me to Dean right now."
"No. You need to calm down. You're hysterical and I'm not taking you up there to get Daddy worked up. You're shaking, you're upset. Tea first. Then Daddy."
"Dammit!" Cas's voice echoed through the lobby. "Stop patronizing me!"
"Alright, that's it," Tiana tightened her grip on Cas's arm and dragged him across the floor.
People stared, some whispered behind their hands. Cas didn't care. He wanted his husband, and he fought against Tia's surprisingly strong grip. She dragged him into an empty office, shutting the door behind the three of them.
"What is going on with you?" Tia asked, hands on her hips.
"I just want to see Dean! Why are you keeping me from him?!"
"Have you seen yourself? You're sweating and shaking and you look completely freaked out. Daddy is hurt, but he's going to be ok, and right now he's drowsy and comfortable, and if I take you up there looking like you are, he's going to get worked up, too. If the shoe was on the other foot, I'd be telling him the same thing."
"Sit down, Papa," Mei encouraged, pulling out a chair for him. "I'll go to the cafeteria and get you some tea. Please sit."
"But I don't -"
Tiana ran a hand down his arm. "Please. Just for a few minutes. Ok?"
"I left for the store and didn't say I love you. I left angry. What if - what if he had -" Cas's voice broke, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Why does this keep happening? I don't understand!"
"Oh, Papa," Tiana pulled him close, and Mei snuggled in against his back. "You're being so strong. You look out for Daddy all the time. Did we all forget to look out for you?"
"I have to b-be s-strong. He n-needs me!"
"Yeah, but you need someone to help you, too." Mei rubbed soothing circles over his back. "We're here for you. While you're being strong for Daddy, let us be strong for you. Ok?"
Cas could only nod. He was totally drained, and he allowed the girls to steer him onto the couch in the office.
"I'm going to get some tea," Mei said softly.
She left on silent feet, while Tiana sat beside Cas. A box of tissues were placed in Cas's lap, and he took a few and mopped his face.
"I'm ok," he muttered.
"I know. You always are. You're so strong, Papa. I think it's why the rest of us forget sometimes. You need someone to lean on just like Daddy does. I really feel like the three of us let you down."
"You're all busy -"
"That's no excuse. You and Daddy always had time for us. We all need to make time for you." Tiana took his hand, stroking along his fingers soothingly. "He's ok. We're going to run a few tests on him to make sure it's nothing serious. I don't think that it is. He's been experiencing some dizziness and vertigo, which he insists he told you about."
"He did. He's been good about that."
"Good. Anyway, he doesn't remember a lot about what happened, but he said he wanted a shower. He remembers feeling dizzy and deciding that he probably shouldn't take one without you there. That's the last thing he remembers. Daddy fell and hit his head on the edge of the tub. The left side of his face is pretty bruised up and his nose is broken. But he's ok. He's in good spirits. Ok? He's ok."
"Ok," Cas murmured.
Mei let herself back into the room, a foam cup in hand. "Here, Papa."
"Thank you, sweetheart."
They sat quietly while Cas drank his tea, the girls talking about pointless things while Cas silently listened.
"Remember when Grandma Ellen died?" Cas interrupted softly, "And Grandpa Bobby seemed so utterly lost? Like he didn't know what to do with his life anymore?"
Both girls nodded.
"That's how I'd be - if something happened to Dean -" Cas choked back a sob. "I don't think I could - I don't think I could function."
"Oh, Papa. Daddy's got a nice long life to live still. He's not going to -"
"But he could! If he'd fallen at a different angle - or hit his head harder - I could have lost him. I could have - I could have lost him!" He couldn't hold back the next sob or the one after that.
The girls sandwiched him on the couch, arms wrapped tight around him.
"I can't lose him. I can't. I'm not ready. We're too young. We have too much to do."
"And you're going to do all of it." Tiana murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "He's ok. You're ok. I think everything is just catching up with you all at once. C'mon, calm down. It's ok."
"We love you both so much, Papa. Let us help. Please."
He nodded. "Ok. Ok."
Dean's eyes were closed when Cas finally got upstairs. His nose was wrapped in bandages and white tape, and a line of ugly bruises traveled across his left cheek and into his hairline. His left eye was swollen enough that he probably wasn't able to open it. He looked very peaceful, chest rising and falling softly. Tiana said they were going to keep him overnight, to run a few tests and to make sure there was no lasting damage from the concussion.
Cas carefully moved a chair closer to his bed, settling into it wearily. He reached for Dean's hand, but pulled back, not wanting to disturb him.
"You can hold my hand, silly," Dean said, startling him. His voice was rough and raspy.
"I thought you were sleeping."
"No. Light kinda hurts my eyes." He turned his head slightly to the side and opened his right eye a bit. "Better yet, why don't you come up here and take a nap with me? I'm tired and you look like hell."
"Thanks."
Dean chuckled and closed his eye again. He shuffled over on the bed, making room. "C'mon. Get your perfect ass up here."
Cas smiled and kicked off his shoes, happily crawling under the blanket Dean was holding open for him. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder, letting his arm fall around his husband's waist.
"You ok?" Lips pressed against his forehead.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"I'm fine. Dopey, floating on a happy cloud of painkillers," Dean kissed his forehead again. "You look pretty stressed though."
"I am a little - I'm growing weary of all of this, Dean."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." Cas sighed and burrowed into Dean's neck, letting his eyes slip shut. "I am suddenly so tired."
"Then go to sleep. I can't fight the drugs much longer anyway. Take a nap with me."
"Ok."
Dean started humming softly, which turned into quiet singing, and Cas let himself drift.
"There are places I remember…"
A bright flash of light startled him out of sleep, and Cas fidgeted slightly to see what it was.
"Sorry, Pops. You guys looked really cute and I wanted to show the girls." David smiled apologetically.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were campaigning this week?"
"I was. But you guys are more important." David sat in a chair next to the bed and ran his fingers through his thick red hair. That gesture would always remind Cas of Sam, and he smiled.
"I'm happy to see you."
"Glad to be here. Starting to wonder what I got myself into."
Squirming, Cas managed to get out of the bed without waking Dean. "What do you mean?" he asked, taking the chair beside David.
"It's a lot of garbage being hurled at me, and much worse then when I was running for the Senate. One of my opponents, who I actually thought was my friend, is using my adoption against me. Because apparently, an adopted son isn't fit to run the country."
"That's ridiculous."
"I know. I'm determined not to let him get to me. I'd be a decent president, I think."
"I know you would," Cas reached over and patted his hand. "Dad and I are so proud of you."
David smiled. "That much I'm sure of. I can't even imagine where I'd be now if not for you two. I'm damn lucky to have had you."
"No, we're the lucky ones. We wanted children so badly, and Dad was determined we were going to help kids who needed help. We're so grateful you came along."
Swiping at his eyes, David grinned. "Glad to be of service." They sat quietly for a moment. "How is he?" David asked. "Is he ok? What happened?"
"We're not really sure. He's going to need to have some tests to try and find out where the dizziness and vertigo are coming from. He's been so good about telling me when something is wrong - anyway, we'll keep an eye on it."
"I worry about you guys, all alone out there in the country. You know I'm going to have to hire you a bodyguard at some point, especially if I make it past the primaries."
"I know. We have a spare room someone could use in that case, and Dean and I are already looking into having a security system set up."
"Privacy fence, too. I need you both safe. If something happened to you and Dad because of me, I'd never forgive myself."
"We'll figure it out."
Dean stirred, mumbled something about stupid bees and rolled onto his side, apparently still very much asleep.
"Are you hungry? I could go get you something. I know you're not going to want to leave."
"That would be a nice. A sandwich will do." Cas looked around. "Wait, are you here alone?"
"No, Jack is outside the door and Brian is down in the lobby. Pops - I'm running for president. I'm never alone."
"Ah. Good."
"I'll be back in a bit." David stood and patted Cas's shoulder before leaving the room. Dean snuffled in his sleep at the sound of the door closing, only his spiky gray hair visible above the blanket.
"You terrify me, you know that?" Cas asked Dean's sleeping form. "I'm not ready to live without you. MS or not - don't you get any smart ideas about going early." He slid his chair closer, reaching out and dragging his fingers over the back of Dean's wrinkled hand. "I'm not ready. Stay. Please," he whispered.
"Papa?" Tiana entered the room, a chart in hand. "You ok?" She rested her hand on his shoulder.
"I'm um, I'm fine."
"Ok. Dr. Bradley and I just went over Daddy's chart, and we're both confident the dizziness is just part of the MS. It's a common symptom."
"Is it common for it to cause a loss of balance?"
"It can be. I think getting handicapped bars installed in the bathroom would be a good idea. At least he'd have something to hold on to."
"Good god, do you know how loudly he'll bitch if I do that?"
"Not that loudly. It's a good idea. I don't want to fall again."
"Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?"
Dean rubbed his eyes and grimaced. "Ow. Shouldn't have done that."
"Need a little something to help?"
"Maybe. I dunno. How 'bout just some ice? I really don't want to zone out on painkillers again."
"I think that can be arranged. We're going to keep you overnight, though. My boss still wants an MRI and CT scan done, ok?"
"Yup. Poke and prod your old man, kiddo."
Tiana smiled. "Not that old."
"Yeah, yeah."
"I'll be back with some ice," she told them as she left.
Cas smiled at Dean. "Are you hungry?"
"A little bit. Did I miss lunch?"
"I think so. David's getting me something from the cafeteria. Want me to ask him to get you something, too?"
"Yeah. See if they have pie."
"Already ahead of you," Cas smiled, texting David.
Dean sighed and turned his head towards Cas, breathing in the scent of him. He stroked his fingers through his fluffy white hair, feeling comfortably drowsy in the dim hospital room. Cas was warm in his arms, face turned into Dean's neck.
"I'm sorry I terrify you," he said quietly.
"You weren't supposed to hear that. I thought you were sleeping." He snuggled in closer, warm puffs of breath against Dean's neck. "But you do terrify me. I'm not ready to lose you, and today - all I could think was I'd left the house without telling you I love you. What a horrible - if you had -" Cas gulped, and a moment later, warm wetness was seeping through Dean's shirt.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You can't promise that."
"Yeah, well you know what? Neither can you. You think I'm ready to live without you? Fuck, I'd be just like Bobby that year after Ellen died. Lost, miserable -"
"That's what I told the girls I'd be like."
"Ok, that's it. We're dying together."
"Like in The Notebook? Or Thelma and Louise?
"Gonna hold my hand and sail off that cliff with me, Cas?"
"Are we taking the Impala?"
Dean laughed. "Hell, no! She's too fine to waste like that. We'll steal a car. More fun."
"You know how to steal a car?"
"If we can find an old one somewhere."
"Married thirty years and there's still things I don't know about you." Cas chuckled and kissed Dean's neck. "I love you so much," he whispered. "I'm not ready."
"It's ok. I'm not planning on going anywhere. Not yet. There's still so much I want to do with you. Ok?"
"Yeah."
They lay in silence for awhile, Dean tracing patterns on the arm Cas had slung around his waist.
"We both need an outlet," Dean murmured. "And maybe some more help around the house? We have the money."
"What type of help?"
"I dunno. Janne's pretty amazing…"
"David wants to hire a bodyguard."
"We should let him."
"Hmm."
Silence again. Dean was growing very sleepy. He'd had a busy day, with all the tests he'd had done. Pronounced to be in relative good health, he was given the go ahead to head home in the morning.
"I miss writing."
"Hmm?"
"I miss writing. I miss putting words on the page and weaving stories into existence. I miss creating worlds and characters and being constantly surprised by what they do, who they are. I miss that."
"Is taking care of me preventing you from writing?"
"No - not really. I don't know. I'm tired all the time."
"You are?"
"Yes. Taking care of you isn't hard, but it isn't always easy. I've felt better since Janne joined us. Having her around to cook and help with the chores helps me a lot. But I admit I've considered hiring another person, to do more of the daily cleaning so Janne and I don't have to. I don't know. Is it taking it too far to hire what would basically be a maid?"
"Nope."
"Hmm." Cas slid his hand under Dean's shirt. "So if I start writing, there's my outlet. But what about you? What will you do?"
"I'm gonna make like my little buddy Ben."
"Ben?"
"Yeah. The kid I met the other day. Wheelchair bound with cerebral palsy? Krissy told me he paints all day, everyday. He can't hold a brush because the CB effects his hands. So he fingerpaints. She showed me a couple of his pieces. They're amazingly detailed for a kid his age, and he never uses a single brush. So I was thinking, gonna get me some finger paints and some big ass canvasses and paint. If my hands are shaking, it won't even matter. It'll just be part of the work."
"You never used brushes that much anyway."
"Exactly."
Cas kissed along Dean's neck. "If that makes you happy, I will ensure you have all the canvasses and paint you could possibly need."
"Awesome." Dean turned his head and caught Cas's lips. They traded languid kisses, both of them growing sleepier. "You know I love you, right?" Dean asked softly, eyes drifting shut.
"And I you," Cas affirmed, ending on a yawn.
"Go to sleep, angel," Dean whispered, but he was already there.
There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed.
In northern Maryland, just off of Route 165, two old men share a modern ranch house. It's painted pale blue, and there are pansies and petunias lining the concrete walk. There's an incredible old car sitting in the driveway, looking oddly new although she'd got to be close to eighty. There are no stairs. Neither man likes stairs. Trees fill the back yard, shading a screened in porch from hot afternoon sun. There are beehives, a vegetable garden, and yet more flowers.
Some forever, not for better, some are gone, and some remain.
The one man is a painter, and had been well known once upon a time. Is still well known, in fact, despite the fact he loudly insists otherwise, and a painting he once did of the Angel of Thursday just sold for triple its original price. His hands shake sometimes now, but he still fills canvasses with angels, his old, gnarled fingers finding their faces in the paint he smears with his hands.
All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall.
The other man is a writer, and he spends his days looking after the painter. In between, he commits words to paper and tends to his bees. He tells the stories of their lives, and the people that lived in them. The gardens are his doing, although the painter helps as much as he can.
Some are dead, and some are living. In my life, I've loved them all.
The painter and the writer like to take walks around their property on the days that health is good and the weather is fair. They hold hands and smile at each other, quietly discussing their very long lives together. Some days the writer pushes the painter in a wheelchair. They still manage to smile on those days, too. There's a rumor that these two are something special. A book was written about them once.
But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with you.
Their son is the President of the United States. Their oldest daughter is the youngest Head of Neurology in Hopkins' history. Their youngest daughter just made her much lauded New York Gallery debut.
And these memories lose their meaning, when I think of love as something new.
Their brothers often come to visit, and the four of them stay up too late, talking about the old days, family and friends, and the people in their lives they dearly miss. The painter will slap his much too tall younger brother on the back and call him his childhood nickname, and the writer will attempt to keep his brother from eating too much candy. They'll laugh, they'll cry, and they'll do it all again.
Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before.
But the moments the painter and the writer value the most are the times when they're alone, wrapped around each other in the hammock or in bed, trading slow and lazy kisses and holding each other close. That's when their souls are laid bare, safe in the other's gentle hands. It's when everything is right with the world, where the disease and bad knees are left behind, pushed to the side by the intensity of a love that almost didn't happen.
I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life I love you more.
That's the place they call home.
In my life, I love you more.
