The ride back to his house was quiet, Castiel spending most of his time gazing out the window while Dean sang quietly along to whatever was on the classic rock station. Castiel felt dread burying itself in the pit of his stomach the closer they got to his house.
By the time Dean pulled into his driveway, he was certain he was going to throw up. He was more than happy he was marrying Dean, in fact, he was amazed that Dean had asked to marry him, that wasn't the problem. The problem was what his father would do once he found out. But Dean didn't seem to mind any of this. He got out and stood tall, shoulders squared, eyes defiant. He opened Castiel's door and took his hand, closing the Impala door loudly to let everyone know he was here. Castiel almost fought against Dean's pulling hands, but he knew they would have to get this over at some point and the sooner, the better. Castiel opened the door with trembling hands and Dean walked in first, head up, glaring at his father as soon as he set his eyes on him. Castiel looked at his dad, standing tall and drunken, with more than a little fear in his gut. His father stalked forward, practically snarling as he ripped their hands apart and shoved Dean hard, where he crashed into a mirror on the wall, the impact of his back and shoulders breaking it. His fingers were so tight round Castiel's wrist he was certain he'd snap it.
"Dean?" he called, watching as Dean plucked a piece of blood specked glass from his back.
"Shut up, you little shit. I'll deal with you later," his dad snarled, shoving him into the stairs. His leg caught on the edge and he tumbled down the wooden stairs with a cry. He dimly heard a roar and a surprised shout, but he could only think one thing; Dean, please get out. He'll kill you. Please. Black spots danced before his eyes as his head smacked the ground. He sank into sweet, sweet oblivion.
When he awoke, all was quiet. He stared at his blue, flaking ceiling, wondering what in the world he had done to earn this monster headache. The memories came smashing back into him with a bolt of pain.
"Dean!" he cried, bolting upright. He let out a sharp gasp as his head gave a particularly nasty throb and he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Easy there, easy hun," a soft voice murmured, a hand coming to rest against his back. He buried his head in Dean's shoulder, taking in his smell of maple and….blood? He pried his eyes open and pulled back a tad, looking Dean over. Dried blood stuck to his temple where he had a cut across it. He had a nice black eye forming, and was holding himself gingerly.
"Dean?" Castiel asked in concern. But, despite the blood and the pain, Dean smiled a wide, radiant smile.
"Took care of your Dad problem, Cas," Dean murmured. Castiel nodded, took in a breath, and let out a soft cry, wrapping his arms around Dean, tears streaming down his cheeks. Dean's arms curled around him, holding him to his chest.
"It's okay, Cas, don't worry. He's gone now. He can't ever hurt you again," Dean whispered.
"That's not why I'm crying," Castiel whispered into Dean's chest. Dean frowned and looked down at him, waiting for an explanation. "That's what you said to me," Castiel murmured, "The day we met."
Dean let out a half sob half laugh of his own.
"Yeah, Cas, that is what I said." And with that, he leaned down and kissed Castiel. Castiel could taste blood and sweat and tears and Dean.
It was perfect, just the two of them lips locked passionately, alone in Castiel's shabby, worn room on his squeaky mattress and water stained floors.
Absolutely perfect.