This place is horror… horror.
The words that had been floating around a particular hunter's head slowly continued to reform and describe the total epitome of Hell he found himself in over and over again. His mind screamed at him that the establishment was a place of contempt for his whole being. If the man next to him was not perpetually grounding him to his spot, he would have fled an hour ago. He could not even begin to explain how badly he wanted to rip off the head of any other busy bee worker who asked if they were finding everything alright.
Dean Winchester was in a furniture store; buying actual homey things for a home. The whole expedition was setting warning bells off in his head like no other. A Winchester boy was never to set foot in here. He did not have a home to furnish, he never needed one. Dean continued to remind himself that he did have a home now, and it really needed some furniture.
When it came down to it, he supposed it made up for dragging Castiel to the hardware store to, in his words, pick out colors that would not make him weep every time he laid eyes upon them. In his opinion, the light blues, pale yellows and passive grays really suited the downstairs floor. He praised God for sending this paint picking genius to him.
"Dean, I told you, white fabric or black leather would suite a grey or blue living room, depending on which we choose. Why will you not just listen?" Castiel huffed for the umpteenth time.
"We're going to have a kid! They destroy things like it's their job," Dean glanced back at the snow white cloth couch; it really would look nice with the grey coloring.
"Either way it will be a couch, a baby will not abolish it and we can teach them to be very careful or Daddy will throw a fit," Cas smiled warmly as he ran his hand down a deep red leather couch. It would look very modern in the siting room. He had yet to decide the paint for the room, but he began contemplating pure white.
"Fine, we'll get your hoity-toity satin white sofa," Dean grinned smugly as he marked down the item number on a piece of paper. They searched among other white furniture before traveling on to coffee and side tables as well as accessories. The boy's managed to gather quite a bit of starter furniture for their family areas.
Dean stared down at the prices they racked up. They were dangerously close to the budget price, "Do you want to go ahead and buy for the siting room and formal dining area?" Dean quickly learned to use the appropriate names of rooms around Castiel; "We can get the things for the sun room when it gets warm out again."
Cas took a peak at Dean's notebook, "We still need pots and pans for the kitchen considering it is nearly completed. So we really should look at the master bedroom for now," Castiel paused, contemplating, "We also need to work on the bathrooms both in our rooms and on the second floor, but we can take care of that when we get a bit more income." Dean had recently begun working at the local shop as a full time mechanic. He was working his way up to Master and pretty soon would be making bank. Bless both his father's for throwing a wrench in his hand.
"You're right; the stoning should be coming in for the walls sometime this week. It's going to look badass." The hunter had suggested they fake a chimney wall with stained brick by the backboard for whatever bed they happened to choose. Castiel had chosen a creamy vanilla shade with scary precision and added they should stain the showing support beams red chestnut. The room was pulling together nicely.
Dean quickly finished writing out the numbers for a rather large platform bed while his angel attempted to carry a plethora of sheets and pillows over to him. He noted the forest green and beige comforter with a small smile; he could have guessed that one. The hunter grabbed up most of the pillows, minus one, that Castiel had tucked closely to his chest.
"What's that, Angel?" the fuzzy blue back reminded him of a child's pillow. He gently grabbed it and faced the front to him only to be met with two happily smiling bees flying with no destination around one another.
Cas took it back, giggling softly at Dean's goofy smile, "I like it. That is all," with that the angel turned to find some assistance.
No more than half Dean's soul and a quarter of his money later, the Winchester couple was prepared to set up their lives in their new home.
The hunter was appreciative of Bobby's hand-me-down tube TV; very, very appreciative. It was good company for the nights Castiel kicked him out their bedroom to sleep on the couch.
Almost twelve weeks pregnant and all going smoothly, the angel was in the middle of a hormone induced mood swing storm. One minute he would be cuddling with Dean in the out sized bed crooning and giggling with one another and the next, well, the next Dean would be trudging down two flights of stairs to in hope find a Dr. Sexy MD marathon on. He didn't mind it really; the angel had no control over these things.
"Dean?" spoke a disembodied voice from the hall behind him, "Dean, I am sorry," the hunter smiled softly at the gravelly whisper, muting the drama of Dr. Sexy and beckoning his angel over to him. Some minutes ended like this, Castiel coming down to needlessly apologize.
"It's all right, Cas. You know I don't mind all this," he hunter carded a hand through the mused black locks. He unmuted his program but turned the volume down to a soft gurgle while maneuvering Castiel and himself into a more desired position of back to chest. This way Dean could more easily stroke the vessel his unborn child lay dormant in while having the perfect place to bury his head in a tidal wave of Ocean Breeze smelling bliss. The hunter and his angel preferred these moments the most; the moments where nothing but one another mattered. They were one.
"Dean," Castiel started in a light murmur, "I was thinking, while I was upstairs alone I mean," the angel trailed off, seeming to lose all confidence but the hunter did not push, he could tell his love was in turmoil with himself and inquiring would not assist in their situation. Cas started again after a couple of deep breaths, a little louder than before, "I know my vessel is doing well, we did not predict this body, once human as it was, could do such a thing as hold a child, but I am starting to worry…"
Dean huffed quietly, he expected the angel to get doubts at some point, but not with only the hunter around. He did not have the knowledge to devise a suffice answer for Castiel – an answer that would soothe his troubled mind. "Cas, Gabriel said that your… body," could it be considered such? "Would be able to change to fit our case. So far you've done great; I don't see a reason for that to change now."
"I know what he said, I am just worried that there will be… minor complications to our current predicament. I cannot honestly believe that a male vessel will be able to properly adapt, but I also fear if I change vessels the child will be lost to us."
"We'll call up Gabriel in the morning?"
"Yes, we should pray to him in the morning."
Morning did not come soon enough for the angel. He awoke bright and early with anticipation settling heavy in his gut. With no hope of falling back to sleep, Castiel rolled from his warm covers at an unusually dark quarter 'til seven. He ultimately decided he had no intention to wake his sleeping hunter this early on a Saturday and made his ungraceful decent down two flights of stairs. The floor was cold and creaky beneath his feet.
Cas poured a cup of grapefruit juice and topped it off with apple cider vinegar on a whim. He sipped at it before pouring nearly the whole cup down the drain; that was a terrible, horrible idea screw cravings with a burning holy passion. The angel eventually decided on a cup of jasmine tea and a grapefruit half rather than its squeezed counterpart. He then took it upon himself to quietly, in case rest was ensuing, pray to his brother in arms and request his presence in the late afternoon; please call Dean at your leisure to set a time between him and Sam, thank you.
It was nearly nine when Castiel decided that Dean had slept in long enough and began to tidy up their not-messy-but-a-bit-more-disorderly-than-he-would-like home. The pair had recently finished furnishing and renovating the household to their individual liking causing Castiel to play keep house most of his days. Dean stated more than once that he found that downright sexy – the angel could not figure out for the life of him why cleaning a messy house could hold any sort of attraction.
"CASTIEL!" the angel smirked glancing briefly toward the staircase, "Give me one good God damned reason you are running a vacuum at," Cas could imagine Dean looking frantically toward the alarm on his side of the bed, "9:17! Cas Winchester, there is no reason on this Earth for you to be cleaning at 9:17 in the morning." Throughout his rant Dean had made his way down the steps, through the corridor into the sitting room where his Angel has relaying smoke-blue rugs onto the floor. Cas sauntered over to the hunter, pecked him softly on the lips and moseyed his way back down to the kitchen. He softly threw out a remark about being up before seven while casually pouring Dean a cup of black coffee.
Dean snorted as he took a sip of the steaming hot beverage, "That gives you no right to wake me up." Castiel smiled as he prepared to make a proper breakfast for the two, there was no point in arguing, "Do hen's in a basket sound alright to you? Maybe I can quickly stir up Eggs Benedict," the angel pondered on his limited amount of recipes, "How long does hollandaise sauce take to make, Dean?" The hunter grunted his lack of knowledge from beneath a stack of his arms, "Hen's in a basket it will be then."
The angel hummed a sweet melody as he quickly cooked. Castiel had been a quick learner in the culinary arts which Dean had been more than grateful for. The angel's cooking was heavenly.
"I prayed to Gabriel while you were asleep. Sam should call you sometime in the late morning to make plans for this afternoon," he scooped two baskets with little round toast pieces onto one plate, one onto the other setting the larger portion in front of the man of the household. He then revolved a counter stool toward himself and sat at the kitchen island, leaning into Dean's side.
Castiel liked to imagine the picture the two created as he closed his eyes and rested against his hunter. He figured they were something out of an impressionist painting, all bright colors and light happy emotion. Dean set his hand around Castiel's slightly pudged waist, pulling him close to his body with one arm while eating with the other. Yes, they were certainly artwork rather than true beings, the angel thought to himself.
Just as the last wisps of morning chill began to dissipate in the mid-October afternoon, a subtle knocking sounded at the door; Castiel hurried to grab the door just as Dean was coming down the stairs wet haired and shirt askew.
"Hey there little bro! Dean-o, nice sense of fashion you have gained there, very rebellious," Gabriel commented, patting Castiel lightly on the cheek and making his way inside.
"Hey Sam," Dean ignored the maddening Archangel sitting next to his lover on the couch in light of giving his own brother a light hug, "How's hunting with Screech going?"
"Don't call him that."
"Touchy, touchy."
The quartet sat in the bright living room chatting about the mundane. The conversation piece went from hunting to home life and even the thought of Sam giving up the life, "I mean, you got out, there are plenty of hunters out there, right?"; "I'm not arguing with you there, little brother."
An hour of idle small chat Gabriel got unnecessarily jittery and popped the big Q, "There was a reason we got called her if you recall." Castiel sighed softly as he rearranged himself to better look toward his brother.
"Yes, I had a worrisome thought last night and thought maybe you could soothe the notion," he paused in case of the archangel's interruption, "I was thinking… I mean… this body cannot really hold a child can it? This vessel is male and is in no shape to hold life – however, I fear death of the child if…" he trailed off, doe eyes shot toward his sibling as his lip quivered, the thought unnerved him greatly.
Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath and pondered for a moment. He almost wanted to laugh at his brother's question, but he could see where the thought would come from, the naïve child. "Castiel, your vessel is fine to hold the child."
Dean interjected, "But he's-"
"I know what he his Dean; it doesn't matter to this particular case. Cas's grace will morph and heal his body into whatever is needed.
It's like this – when a mother is preparing to have a baby, her body goes through many cycles and changes to accommodate the child – her uterus expands, she stops producing eggs, the whole nine yards. Castiel's grace does the same thing, so to speak. It will expand his body and create a uterus, it will inject estrogen, which we have seen already happen. Hell, I wouldn't even be surprised if it tore him a new one," Castiel looked worriedly down at his bulge at the prospect, "there is no worry about losing your little one."
"Oh thank Father," Cas breathed lightly, his hand brushing over his bump.
"However, if you really would like to change vessels, there should be no worries. Your grace holds the child, not the vessel," Cas gazed at his brother through his lashes, thanking him softly in Enochian; he had been implementing the language into his vocabulary more often than not these days.
With all apprehensions soothed light banter fell over the party until near dusk. Just as the sun was painting rosy pinks and midnight purples in the sky, the visiting couple prepared to leave; Dean and Castiel saw them out to what Dean had deemed The Hydra of Corruption, AKA Sam's Dodge Charger.
The angel made his way to the kitchen to prepare a light dinner. Just as he set unions to simmer, Dean wrapped his arms around his middle, gluing himself to his back, "Dean, it is very hard to cook this way," Castiel attempted to wiggle free to no avail.
"Please don't change vessels," Dean murmured into his skin, "I just got used to seeing you this way, I like it too much," he nuzzled a small expanse of olive skin peeking out from Cas's collar.
Castiel smiled softly before turning in his hunter's arms and pecking his lips, "I will not, just for you."
The two finished dinner and turned in to a night of movies and cheap frozen yogurt before retiring at an early hour.
Cas lay situated in the grasp of Dean's warm, strong arms, comfortable and contentedly tired. The hunter's large hand stroked softly through his dark brown locks as they lay in companionable silence on the verge of sleep.
"Hey Cas," Dean grumbled quietly although it was unnecessary. His warm breath trailed over the angel's ear – a whisper curling around his eardrum only for him to hear and comprehend; "Yes Dean?" he answered back just as softly into the other's palm, the moist air tickling the microscopic hairs; "Why are you staring to speak Enochian more often? It's not like any of us judge you for what you have to say," Dean turned his nose into the angel's hair, the small breaths inching it to and fro slightly. Castiel paused to a minute in his riposte, "I feel… safer using it. As if something is listening from the shadows that I cannot expel or expose and I do not feel as though I want it to hear me."
Dean's body became ridged; had the shadows just moved or was he unnerved from Castiel's response? They couldn't have moved. There is no creature that lived in the shadows. The hunter snorted at his angel's answer and maneuvered himself into a much more comfortable position spooned to Cas, "On that one, I love you." "And I you, Dean."
The couples light sleep went undisturbed as a figure detached itself from the black shadows beyond the bed with a wicked leer and vanished into the night.
Notes:
And in comes plot elements. I plan to have a couple of more fluffier chapters before going full on plot however.