Chapter 07 - Just Right
Castiel is a good cook. Lord only knows why the man isn't a chef instead of some manager. The look of pure ecstasy on Dean's face says it all, Daryl unable to stop the small grin playing at his own lips when the older Winchester shoves another forkful of eggs into his already full cheeks.
Castiel keeps his back to them as he prepares more scrambled eggs upon Dean's request, his face flushed red from embarrassment not having changed one bit from when he had walked in on them a few minutes ago. Daryl himself would never live it down.
"Still love my scrambled eggs," Castiel muses as he glances over his shoulder at two at the table. "You want another helping too, Daryl?"
Daryl nods, turning his attention back to Dean. Aside from this guy's obvious love for food, there are a lot of things about this Winchester that are the same. Amnesia or different memories, whatever it may be, he's still Dean.
If you know me, then you should know the answer to that.
Yeah, he did, he does. Dean would never hurt him. Sure he's a skirt chaser, er, for the most part he used to be and a pretty boy flirt, but he's not a cheater and when Dean Winchester says I love you, he means it, come heaven or hell. And Dean, well, he declared a whole lot more than just love when he said I do.
"Dean," Daryl mumbles, raising his voice when the younger man continues to chow down like if it's his last meal on earth. "Dean."
"Hmm?" Dean responds with a mouth full of eggs, finally giving his attention to the other man and not his food. They're the best eggs he's ever tasted. It makes Dean wonder what else Castiel can cook up.
Flickering a glance up at Castiel, the Dixon starts, "M'sorry, bout what I said at the diner." He clears his throat before continuing, " It's just... I don't know what I did to deserve ya and I'm scared...I'm scared that you'll realize that 'n leave. Realize that I'm not worth it and go off and find a better life."
Dean stares at Daryl for a few seconds, his eyes also flickering towards Castiel. The man has his back towards them, but there is no doubt in his mind that Cas is listening in very closely.
"Funny... I've only met you for such a short time. For me, at least it is. I feel the same way," Dean admits. He doesn't understand how someone can love him when he's 90 percent crap. "Thank you," the Winchester adds, placing down the fork in his hand so that he can be able to lean over the table and take Daryl's lips into his own.
It's a chaste kiss, a press of lips that leaves them both tingling for more.
"Thanks," Dean breathes out when he pulls away, the older man's eyes softening as a little smile graces his features in return.
"You two are so cute!" Castiel coo's from the stove, now looking over at the two.
Dean's face flushes as he sits back down, his attention returning to his eggs. "Thanks Castiel..." he mumbles.
"Ya sticking around?" Daryl turns to Castiel, his own reddening cheeks betraying his bashfulness.
Castiel throws his head back and laughs. "From what I can see the house needs some good old cleaning," he man waves the spoon in his hand around in a circular motion. "I suggest you guys get to work as I finish up here in the kitchen."
Dean stares at Castiel for a few seconds, feeling that the man has something under his sleeve. There had been something about his tone, hinting at something Dean can't seem to put his finger on.
A chair scraping across the floor brings the older Winchester's attention back to Daryl, the Dixon stepping around the table before motioning for Dean to follow him.
"When yer done, meet me out back," Daryl informs the younger man. "Got a job for ya."
The job, as it turns out, involves Dean getting his hands dirty. Literally.
"Gotta clean the gutters," Daryl states as he rests the top of the ladder against the roof. At Dean's curious look, the older man elaborates. "Gonna hold Thanksgiving here. You want 'em to come to a nice house or what?"
Dean shrugs. "As long as the food tastes good, I could care less how the place looks," the Winchester responds with a smug grin. "You going up?" he asks, stepping behind the other man, waiting to be able to hold the ladder for Daryl.
"Depends, can ya catch me if I fall?" the older man inquires before he shakes his head. "Never mind, yeah, I'll go up. Just make sure ya hold it."
With that, the Dixon ascends the ladder, getting to work on the gutters. He scoops the leaves out, careful not to throw them down at Dean.
"For what it's worth," Dean starts while licking his bottom lip, attention up at the Dixon as he holds onto the ladder so that it doesn't move. "I would catch you. I wouldn't miss that ass."
Daryl shoots a glance at Dean from over his shoulder, quickly turning back to the task at hand to hide his flushed face.
Still very much the same Dean alright.
Castiel stuck around till mid-afternoon, making sure the kitchen was as clean as could be even though it would probably be a mess come thanksgiving day in a week. At least all of the display glasses are shining and it's something Daryl can scratch off his list.
Dean, for the most part, helped out as much as he can even though he practically wandered around the house as confused about where to find anything as a stranger would. Daryl tries not to linger on that part.
When the older Winchester wasn't too busy helping Daryl trim the yard or cut the grass, he was watching him. For two weeks. Daryl won't admit he saw Dean lick his lips when the older man shed his shirt in the smoldering hot sun. At least the Winchester has his sights set on him and Daryl takes it as the comfort it is.
"Castiel's gonna bring the turkey," Daryl fills Dean in as he dumps the basket full of freshly cleaned clothes onto the bed. "Pretty sure he's already started gettin' it prepared. Pop it in the oven first thing in the morning tomorrow. The guy is a perfectionist when it comes to his meat."
Dean stares at the clothes Daryl just threw all over the bed. He didn't think about the laundry, much less who dealt with it. Don't get him wrong, he knows how to do laundry. He has enough practice doing Sam's, but this is different. Sam is his younger brother, he's supposed to take care of him. It's his job. Daryl... he's just a really hot stranger he lives with that happens to be his husband.
The older Winchester takes a step back, hoping to get out of this one. He's helped enough around the house, even though he feels some things Daryl could have gotten down faster without him. Well, he's never actually had a home, and some of the daily chores he should know is not common knowledge to him.
One step back is all Dean takes before he sees Daryl pull out a pair of black boxer briefs from the pile, the older man seemingly not even realizing that he has Dean's underwear in his hands as he continues to fill the older Winchester in on what they have planned for Thanksgiving tomorrow.
Dean's eyes widen, his mouth going slack for a second, before he's snatching the materiel out of Daryl's hands. "Never heard of privacy?!" he bellows, his cheeks flushing.
Daryl blinks at him, eyes wide before he glances between the underwear in Dean's hand and the younger man's face. "What?" he quirks a brow before they're both shooting up into his hairline. "Ya don't want me folding your underwear?"
"Of course not!" Dean barks, his green eyes going to the stack of clothes on the bed. He pulls them into his arms and throws them back into the basket. "We'll take care of that tomorrow. After I take out my clothes," the younger man specifies.
The Dixon glances between Dean's flushed face and the basket, a snort escaping him, "Hell no, I ain't got the time tomorrow. Either we do it now or you do it yerself." He reaches for the basket, pulling it back towards himself, "Ya might not remember, but I've done the laundry before. Besides, yer underwear is the least thing ya should worry about me seeing."
Dean pulls the basket back towards his side again, "Really? What else should I be worried about?" He tosses around the clothing in the basket, pulling out his clothes while he's at it.
Daryl leans forward and snatches Dean's underwear from his hands, a chuckle escaping his lips at the younger man's mortified expression, "Ya really wanna know?" he manages between his laughter. "For one, ya don't wear these to bed. At all. Ever." He wags his brows for emphasis, full on cracking up when the blush on Dean's face spreads all the way to the tips of his ears.
With haste Dean snatches the material away again, his face literally hurting from how red it feels. "That's not funny," Dean admonishes, his voice coming out higher than he wants it to. When he still sees the smug grin on Daryl's face, Dean rolls up the underwear in his hands into a ball before throwing it and smacking the other man square on the face with it. "Very funny," he responds, hoping the other man is joking. "Was going to help you, but you're on your own now."
"This is new," Daryl lifts a brow in curiosity, pulling the underwear off his face. "This some new kinky thing I don't know 'bout?" and if Daryl had been cracking up before, he's full on doubling over in laughter now, struggling to keep his smug grin. "Ya sure you want me to hold on to these? More for me then."
Dean shakes his head, "Yeah, be the little sick pervert." He waves his hand dismissively, but he can't help the smile that forms on his lips.
The older man immediately sobers up, brows furrowing as he narrows his eyes at Dean, "What?"
"What what?" Dean asks, looking over at Daryl.
"What'cha call me?" the Dixon frowns, dropping Dean's underwear onto the bed to turn and face the younger man.
"A sick perv," Dean repeats with a lift of his brow. "It's a joke, man," he adds while clearing his throat. "Don't need to get all offended."
Daryl takes a step closer to Dean, not breaking eye contact with the younger man. "Huh," he mumbles before he's biting on his bottom lip, cheeks growing flushed as they puff out in his attempt to not burst into another fit of laughter.
Dean catches on, rolling his eyes as he pushes Daryl back with a laugh of his own. "Son of a bitch," he mumbles under his breath, actually believing the older man.
"Ain't ever heard that one before, even from you," Daryl manages to wheeze out between chuckles. "Payback. Ya have no idea how much shit like this you put me through." He grabs Dean's underwear and throws it back at him, smacking the younger man in the face. "C'mon, let's get this done."
"Payback is a bitch," Dean comments with forced laughter. He can't help but curse the part of himself that can't recall what had led Daryl to want revenge. The younger man picks up the underwear from the floor, his face flushing slightly. "Yeah."
"I'll be going to the couch." It's dark out and Dean really should be heading to bed. Well, the couch.
Daryl nods, blue eyes focused on the floor for a moment before he glances up at Dean, "You can stay." He says it quietly, tentatively, as if he expects the older Winchester to refuse. "If ya want. Whenever ya want. It's...it's your bed too and I don't...mind."
With a nod, Dean steps out, closing the door behind himself. It's not until he looks at the couch that the younger man sighs. If he has to be honest with himself, he doesn't mind this life. It beats living with his father. It beats not having a home and having to keep moving. It beats the military life, and it beats having a distant relationship with Sam...
Dean turns around, opening the door as he peeks inside. He can see Daryl getting ready for bed, the man fluffing his pillows. Biting his bottom lip, Dean steps in. He feels lost even though he had just been in the room a few seconds ago. The Winchester doesn't meet Daryl's eyes as he makes his way over, grabbing the pillow on 'his' side of the bed and giving it a quick fluffing before laying down.
"It's cold tonight," Dean offers when he can't stand the silence.
Daryl bites down softy on his bottom lip, fighting the smile threatening to spread across his features as he pulls the covers back and slides in beside Dean. The stiff way the Winchester lays there makes the older man feel a little awkward, but he can't stop the way his heart throbs in his chest at the fact that Dean is there, beside him. After two weeks of not having his husband sleep beside him, Daryl had been starting to think he'd never be able to get a good night's rest again.
Daryl dares himself to roll over and face Dean, blue eyes taking in the younger man's sharp nose and full lips before he decides he's got nothing to lose, "Ya still cold?"
"No..." Dean looks over at Daryl and wetting his lips, he says, "Now that you've laid down next to me." The younger man knows his face and ears must be flushed red, but he can't help it. He's not used to this kind of talk, much less to be laying down next to his 'husband.'
The Dixon nods, attention caught by Dean's glistening eyes, the moonlight reflecting off them just right to leave the older man entranced. He inches forward before he catches himself, those full lips just begging to be touched by his own.
"That side of the bed gets cold," Daryl mumbles. "This side stays warm. Just saying. Y'know, just in case."
"Just in case?" Dean asks with a raised eyebrow, a small smile on his lips as he looks into Daryl's blue eyes. "I get cold in the night?" he asks while shuffling closer to the other man. "It might get cold, but it's warm right now." Dean huffs out a little laugh as he turns around with the sheets and gives his back to Daryl. "Goodnight lover boy," the smile on his face still present.
Daryl snorts at the older Winchester's choice in nickname, rolling over onto his back as he answers with, "Yeah, night."
Dean doesn't say anything else, but it's not because he fell asleep. Far from it. His head is running a million miles an hour. All his thoughts reaching the same conclusion. He wants to stay. He wants this life. He wants to be married. He wants to settle down. He wants that he's close enough to his brother he visits for Thanksgiving. He wants a friend, even if it means his friend is Castiel, and he wants Daryl. He wants Daryl to be his husband. Dean wants this life. It's selfish wishing. But he can't help but want it more than anything else in the world.
