Title: The Little Wooden Kitchen In The Suburbs (6/?)
Author: craystiel
Rating: PG (For now)
Pairing: Dean/Castiel. Bonus domestic!Team Free Will
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, all rights belong to Supernatural.
Spoilers: Based off the Season 8 storyline I suppose.
Warnings: Its so fluffy I'm gonna die.
Notes: Hey all :) I am so so so so so so so sorry about the delay. I had a lot going on and I didn't have time to write, let alone think. This is quite short, because I didn't want to leave you waiting much longer. I have started Chapter 7, so I promise it won't be that long between chapters again. So sorry lovely angels, please forgive me. Also the fluff will return soon :D happy reading! Beta'd by the one, the only TruffleHead :)

Summary: It's been a few months since they shut the gates of hell forever. They've given up hunting for a simpler life. But Dean, he's having a little trouble adjusting.

Part Two.

Deans arms were aching. Was he hanging from somewhere? He squirmed, but his arms only ached more. It was cold here, too. Goosebumps were covering his goosebumps and it was right about now that he missed their tiny little house in the suburbs. He missed his bed. He missed cuddling up to Cas at night. He missed their simple life. He squirmed again, but he knew there was no getting out of the hold he was in.

"Hello?" Dean called out. His own voice echoed back to him.

"Sammy? Cas?" He screamed this time, only to hear them repeat once more. This better be some stupid prank by some local hunters, because he really wasn't in the mood for some snarky, too- far- up- his- own- ass demon.

"Ah, you're awake."

His ears a familiar Irish drawl, and before he'd fully processed the voice, his mouth opened of it's own accord. "Crowley," he growled. Just the snarky too- far- up- his- own- ass demon he wasn't in the mood for.

"Dean. Long time, no talk." Crowley said. The cold, dark space around him started lighting, to reveal a warehouse. It was cold and wet, basically Crowley's usual hang. Dean closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer to Cas, even though he knew he'd never hear it.

'If you've got any of that angel juice left, use it to hear this. Crowley has me, I'm in a warehouse somewhere. Come on, Cas, zap your cute little butt over here.'

He opened his eyes to the same dimly lit warehouse and sighed. No Cas.

"It has been awhile." Dean said, almost thoughtfully. "But enough of the small talk. How the hell did you get out?"

"Hello? King of Hell," Crowley gestured to himself, smirking.

"And we were freaking out over some low level demon." Dean shook his head.

"Bit rusty, are we?" Crowley poured a glass of scotch and came to sit beside a hanging Dean Winchester. It'd been awhile since he'd been pushed up against a wall or thrown around a kitchen. Right now, hanging by his arms from a cold and dirty roof actually felt like unfamiliar territory. He was rusty.

"You know, I thought about just freaking you out some more, but it got a little boring." Crowley skimmed the rim of his cup, "And since I'm the only one up here, I thought I'd make things a little more... interesting." Dean didn't respond, letting Crowley mutter on about his evil plan.

"I was gonna take Sam, but then... has he gotten bigger? And then of course little innocent Cas was the next option." Dean squirmed in his hold. "But I wasn't too sure whether or not he'd lost his angel mojo completely or was just pretending." Crowley stood up, drink in hand, and started pacing, "So while you and Cas were snuggled up in bed together last night, I-" Crowley turned to Dean, raising his eyebrows, "What's that about anyway?"

"Weren't you busy telling me your evil plan?" Dean asked, feeling more uncomfortable than terrified now.

"I'm much more interested in his." Crowley sat back down, crossing his legs. "Go on."

"Does it matter?" Dean asked.

Crowley smiled. "Not particularly, but I like seeing you squirm."

Dean huffed like a two year old after temper tantrum.

"As you were saying," Crowley gestured for Dean to continue.

"Well, ever since we stopped hunting, the atmosphere has been different and we're just... well... Look, I don't know okay? Are you gonna let me go, or are we gonna have to do this the hard way?" Dean could feel his cheeks heating. He hoped Crowley's inflated ego would save him from having to discuss that subject any further. He'd rather be physically tortured, thank you very much.

"Well, if you don't want to torture yourself," Crowley shrugged, "I guess I can help you out." Crowley twisted his hand as the inside of Dean's stomach started knotting and twisting uncomfortably until he was so short of breath that he thought his lungs were going to come up through his mouth any second.

xXx

It was dark again. Cold, too. Dean's goosebumps were still covered in goosebumps and the ropes around his wrists hadn't loosened any. He started to wonder if he'd ever see Sammy or Jimmy again. He wondered about the garage and all his new friends; would he ever get to talk shop and joke around as if he didn't have a care in the world ever again? He wondered if he'd ever see the wood paneling of their small house again, or the quaint little kitchen where they spent most of their time together, eating fried bacon and over cooked toast that tasted like warmth and security.

But most of all, he wondered if he'd ever see Cas again. He wondered if he'd get to wake up to blue eyes and bad jokes. He'd never been afraid to lose anything so important before. He'd never valued the sanctity of his life on its own, or in relation to others. He had never felt worthy enough to have something important enough that he wouldn't want to leave. The darkness around him suddenly felt like it was closing in on him and as the goosebumps left his skin he was acutely aware that this was the end. Peace washed over him as a flood of good memories swarmed his mind and he smiled, dying wasn't so bad, at least he got to see those blue eyes one more time before everything went black.

"Dean! C'mon, Dean!"

He was getting flashes of light, hints of movement, his eyes focused and unfocused every few seconds and all he could hear was echoing, as if he were standing in a large hall. At least he knew he wasn't dead; this wasn't heaven, and it definitely wasn't hell or purgatory either. The flashes of bright light continued and he'd given up trying to focus until he got a hint of baby blue in his eye line. He willed his eyes to focus on the person in front of him. Seas of blue rushed into his tired eyes and it was the first time he'd felt his heart beat since he'd woken in chaos. Everything became so clear for a few seconds. His life, his choices, who he wanted to be. He was in love with the blue eyes that greeted him every morning. He felt warm, yet rough skin touch his face and he winced. He was in love with the hands that handed him coffee and rested on his shoulders. He heard a rough, deep voice pleading at him to hold on. He was in love with the voice that reassured him and made him smile. He was in love with Cas. His eyes began to sting and the blue paradise in front of him started to wash away. It was then he realised he was crying.

"Dean, shh, its okay, I've got you." He fell into Cas' arms. "I've got you."