Chapter 11: Sunday afternoon
Castiel's POV
2013-2017
2013
When everyone had gone to sleep, – and with everyone Castiel meant Dean – Castiel was wide awake. The apartment was silent. The world was silent. Castiel couldn't even hear the noises from outside. No cars, no rain. There was nothing. Only the sound of Dean's deep and calm breathing beside him. Castiel kissed Dean's collarbone and Dean stirred in his sleep. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'no angel' and turned away from Castiel.
There was something that Castiel had been waiting for. He had been expecting it to happen much sooner, but it still hadn't. The feeling of wonder when he looked at Dean; he had thought it would fade. Or at least mellow. However, it was still there. A sharp and bright sort of love. It felt very new, barely unwrapped, while he had felt it for over five years now.
The way Dean's vessel, body, made him feel. A kind of ache. Even now, lying so close to him, after they'd had made love, there was a void that only Dean could fill. He was so beautiful. Dean didn't like that word: beautiful. He preferred handsome; ruggedly or devilishly, but Castiel liked beautiful. Art was beautiful, exceptional music was beautiful, so Dean was beautiful too.
He kissed the little nubs of Dean's spine. Dean tasted nice. Of salty sweat and still that elusive piny scent. Castiel wasn't even sure if he had ever tasted pine, but Dean tasted like it. And like Castiel. That made Castiel happy. Dean tasted a little of him.
They had fun at the bar. Every now and then Castiel would imitate Cocktail and once, Dean had even joined him. It had quite possibly been the most fun Castiel had ever had while clothed. Doing things with Dean was always fun.
Yet, sometimes Castiel had nightmares. His subconscious must be crazy, because he had nothing to work through. Well, nothing... Perhaps one thing. So, the nightmares were alright, because whenever Castiel woke up from them, Dean was there. Always right there. It didn't matter that Castiel's dreams were sometimes frightening. In a way, it was only fair. A reasonable price to pay in exchange for being happy every waking moment.
Rubbing his cheek against Dean's shoulder, Castiel spooned the other man. It was a strange word for a very enjoyable position. Dean's body heat warmed him like a little furnace and he drifted off, satisfied.
(***)
She stared at him. Her eyes icy behind her glasses.
'Oh, and the thing with the collarbones? Get over it.'
'No,' Castiel mumbled forcefully and repeated, 'No! I don't want to.'
'Cas? Cas? You're having a nightmare,' Dean's soothing voice assured him. He opened his eyes and stared into Dean's eyes. He still hadn't determined their colour. Brown or green. Not that he could distinguish colours in the dark. Dean's hands were warm on his shoulders, but Castiel felt cold. He settled back onto the pillow, snug against Dean.
'You want to talk about it?' Dean asked. No, he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it and he didn't want to dream about it.
'Five years ago...' he began, but he faltered. Was this a good idea? His knuckles grazed Dean's chest and Dean responded by kissing his jaw. The soft lips and a little flick of tongue made Castiel close his eyes.
'Five years ago, Atropos threatened you. And she didn't say 'someday;' she said she would accidentally kill you,' Castiel confessed. Slowly, he opened his eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkness.
'That's not...' Dean protested, but he stopped himself. Confused, Dean looked at him.
'That's what she told me,' Castiel said and understanding dawned in Dean's eyes. They both sat up straight. Dean's leg brushed against Castiel's foot. Castiel proceeded to tell Dean everything.
The conversation they had about what they would be if they could be anything, their conversation about Dean's father during which Castiel had purposely enraged Dean. Their subsequent fight and Dean kissing him. The actual first time they had sex and how Dean had reacted afterwards. How Castiel had said he had loved Dean and how Dean had later responded in kind. Atropos' interruption and how she had condemned what they had done, because it wasn't part of the master plan. Their last few minutes together before Castiel had been forced to turn back time and pretend it, they, had never happened.
'How could you?' Dean asked. He didn't sound angry, only disappointed, but Castiel knew that Dean was angry. And the question was twofold. How could he have erased that moment? And, because everything they ever did came back to those two moments; how could he have declared himself God after that?
'I didn't want to, but I couldn't let her hurt you,' Castiel explained. He attempted to touch Dean's collarbones, but Dean slapped his hand away. There was nothing playful about the gesture. It was purely preventive. Dean absolutely didn't want Castiel to touch him. The former hunter got out of bed and put on his jeans that were on a pile on the floor. Castiel was too upset to even take note of why Dean was dressing. The alarm clock indicated it was a little past four a.m.
'Five years. Five years and you didn't say anything,' Dean shouted and after he had pulled on his sweater, 'All that time you knew I loved you and you didn't do anything.'
Castiel swallowed and tears appeared in his eyes. How could he make Dean understand? Those five years had been mental torture, but he couldn't risk doing anything that might endanger Dean. Dean rummaged in the closet and brought out his running shoes. He put those on too.
'I can't look at you. Not right now,' he said and then he left the room. Castiel heard the front door of the apartment slam shut. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for as long as he could bear. Then he quickly dressed. A night run wasn't safe. Not even after all the fight training they had done. Gently, he closed the door behind him. He knew where Dean was going.
Meet me by the water, Dean would say when they went jogging and they'd meet by an abandoned house by Vermillion River. Dean usually took a short route, so he could wait on the river bank for a while and Castiel would take a long and difficult path and join Dean at the water almost a quarter of an hour later. That's where Dean would go. He liked the quiet and the solitude. It was a perfect spot for contemplation.
It was dark, especially so by the river. There was a full moon, but the clouds obscured it and absorbed its light. A couple of times, Castiel stumbled, but he made it to the abandoned house in one piece. There was a dark shadow on the grassy bank.
'Dean?' Castiel whispered. The shadow moved.
'I'm here,' it grudgingly admitted. Castiel approached and lay down beside Dean. The ground was cold and hard. The chill immediately penetrated his bones and made him shiver. The water sloshed against the sand. Castiel could imagine falling asleep to the soft swirling sounds the river made. Right now, however the temperature was too low for anything except shivering.
'Was it hard?' Dean asked. His hand enclosed Castiel's and he squeezed a little too hard. Clearly, he was still angry.
'What do you think? Five years. Of course, it was hard. It wouldn't have been love if it wasn't hard,' Castiel answered. Dean's grip relaxed.
'I'm sorry,' Dean said. The clouds slowly revealed the white moon and its weak light illuminated them.
'I'm sorry too,' Castiel admitted. The sweat from his run was starting to cool and he shivered again. Dean got up and pulled him to his feet.
'This was our first fight as a couple. Do you know what that means?' Dean asked. There was a mischievous grin on his face and he winked. The light from the moon made Dean's eyes appear almost blue.
'That I should have yelled too?' Castiel guessed. Their first fight. It hadn't been quite as bad as the fights they had had before they became a couple, because then Castiel had always been afraid that Dean wouldn't want to be his friend anymore. Now, while the stakes should be higher; Dean could say he didn't want to be his lover anymore, it had been better. Perhaps because Castiel knew that Dean wouldn't leave him.
'Nope. Make up sex,' Dean suggested and he started to run. His pace was much quicker than it was whenever they jogged together. In fact, Castiel couldn't remember a time when he'd seen Dean run this fast and Castiel struggled to keep up.
2014
'Did you ask Bobby?' Sam anxiously asked. They were sitting at the kitchen table in Castiel and Dean's apartment and Sam was extremely fidgety. Castiel poured him some chamomile tea. It was rumoured to be relaxing and Sam could use some relaxing. Honestly, Sam could probably do with a massage, but Castiel wouldn't offer him one. Once upon a time he had done that and Dean had become very irritated. Apparently, Castiel wasn't supposed to massage anyone but Dean.
'He thinks you're crazy, but he's got one. You sure about this?' Dean said again. He had already asked Sam whether he wanted to do this multiple times.
'No,' Sam admitted. He sighed heavily. Pinned to the fridge with a magnet, the wedding invitation was staring at them.
Mr. And Mrs. William Peter Teller
request the honor of your presence
at the marriage of their daughter
Miranda Cynthia
and
Sam Winchester.
The wedding was still a month away. However, that wasn't what Sam was unsure about.
Bobby had captured a demon and Sam was taking Miranda to see it. He wanted to tell her about his past and how he'd come to be the man he was today and he thought he might need proof that he wasn't certifiably insane. Castiel thought that, while it would not be easy, it was a sensible choice. Nothing significant had happened on the demon front for almost two years now, but they were still out there. It was smart to prepare Miranda.
Dean, on the other hand, strenuously objected. He thought their past might scare Miranda away. All three of them had grown to like her immensely. She was tough, but nice. Sam had confessed to Castiel that she sometimes reminded him of Jessica.
'When are you two getting married anyway?' Sam asked. Castiel looked at Dean, who blushed. Dean and he had talked about it briefly, but decided they didn't much care for a wedding. They already knew they were going to stay together for the rest of their lives, so they didn't really see the point. Plus, same sex marriage was still banned in the majority of the states. Fuck them, Dean had said. Dean refused to accept marriage as some sort of special gift while it was a right that they should have. Maybe someday, they had decided; when it was legal in all the states.
Still, Castiel sometimes thought about it. Officially sealing their love in front of everyone they cared about. He had even selected a poem that he would read at the occasion. Their apartment was becoming too small for all of their shared collections. Music (mostly Dean's) and literature (mostly Castiel's) and their really shared movie collection. Castiel loved reading. It was like escaping into another world. A bit like dreaming, except you were able to come back to reality whenever you wanted and were able to choose the world you disappeared into.
'I have a poem I would read if we did, but we're not going to,' Castiel confessed. Dean's blush deepened, but he also seemed intrigued. Sam dropped another sugar cube into his tea and loudly slurped.
'You do?' Dean softly asked.
'I'd like to hear it,' Sam said. Dean nodded and his hand slipped underneath Castiel's shirt. Fingers lightly darted across his back. Castiel shivered and, innocently, Dean removed his hand. His brother hadn't noticed anything. Tingling with pleasure, Castiel recited the poem. He knew it by heart.
I like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
I like your body. I like what it does,
I like its hows. I like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss, I like kissing this and that of you,
I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,
and possibly I like the thrill
of under me you quite so new
'You would read that in front of other people? Cas, always with the inappropriate and smutty; that's why I love you,' Dean smiled. Sam was trying very hard not to look embarrassed and wasn't entirely succeeding.
'I've got one too,' Dean suddenly said and before Sam or Castiel could express their surprise he had gone into the bedroom. 'Dean? A poem?' Sam mouthed at Castiel and Dean came out with a crumpled piece of paper. He unfolded it and started to read in a steady voice, which Castiel thought was incredibly sexy.
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere I go you go
and whatever is done by only me is your doing)
I fear
no fate (for you are my fate) I want
no world (for you are my world)
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
'Wow, that was... heavily edited,' Sam remarked with a grin. He is probably relieved that it is not about sex like mine was, Castiel thought. Castiel knew the poem. It was from the same poet and volume from which he had chosen his poem. Dean carrying Castiel's heart with him; Castiel liked that. And Dean didn't fear fate anymore. Not after what Castiel had told him about Atropos and their encounter.
'Shut up, Sam,' they said in unison.
2015
'I've been thinking about maybe following some courses. Danny mentioned he might leave the bar to me, because he doesn't have kids, so management would be useful. Do you want to do some courses?'
It was brought up very casually and Dean was rooting around in the fridge when he asked the question. Castiel knew this trick. Whenever Dean didn't want Castiel to know what he was thinking, he'd hide his face behind something. The fridge was his favourite shield, since it implied that the question had just occurred to him while he was searching for something in there. Knowing Dean, he had probably brooded about this for weeks, if not months.
'Can't Danny teach you everything you need to know?'
An annoyed sigh drifted past the fridge door. Dean closed it.
'Do you want to go to university? Sam and I fabricated your high school records, high school diploma and shit like that. You have a honors diploma; you might as well take advantage of that,' Dean suggested. Castiel closed the book he was reading and dropped it on the coffee table. It was the original Italian version of TheTruce by Primo Levi. Dean picked it up and hit Castiel in the chest with it. The aggression was not lost on the former angel.
'I like bartending,' he protested.
'You know like fifty languages. Don't you want to do anything with that?' Dean asked. His voice was rising. Castiel didn't understand the anger. He wanted to be with Dean. As long as he was with Dean, it didn't matter what he did. Though, he couldn't deny that the possibility of absorbing knowledge was enticing.
'You'll go too?'
The possibilities were endless. He could study film and literature and music. Or simply languages. Or psychology; to better understand humans. Or art. Or architecture. Or biology. Or science. Or horticulture. New ideas kept occurring to him.
'Yes. I'll take business management and a few other courses. We could do some courses together,' Dean assured him and Castiel kissed him. Gently, Dean placed the book back on the table.
'I didn't mean to, you know,' Dean murmured and he vaguely gestured at the book and Castiel's chest. Castiel simply kissed him again. Soon they were clutching at one another and shuffling into the bedroom.
(***)
'You wrote an essay on Hamlet?' Sam asked, incredulous. Dean merely slid the paper across the table and Sam picked it up.
'The hero and the tragedy: a tale of co dependence,' Sam read. It was the title of Dean's essay. Castiel felt so proud that he was afraid he would burst. He had been the one to convince Dean to take the course Shakespeare's Tragedies with him and Dean was so much better at it than Castiel. In pencil an A graced the paper. Sam looked like he was about to die and go to heaven as he gazed at Dean. Bobby stared at Dean as if he'd never seem him before.
'Don't look at me like that. As if we don't know about tragedy and heroes,' Dean mumbled, clearly embarrassed.
'Someone pinch me,' Sam requested and Castiel obediently twisted his flesh sharply between his fingers. Startled, Sam pushed him away and rubbed the dark welt that was forming on his arms. He glared at Castiel, while Dean sniggered.
'Ouch. What'd you do that for?' Sam asked. Slowly, the colour of the spot was returning to normal, but Sam kept rubbing at it.
'You said...' Castiel began, but Sam interrupted him.
'This is surreal. Dean is writing essays and has a boyfriend who can make a mean margarita and I'm married to a pregnant doctor. That is just bizarre,' Sam explained.
'A lot of people would argue that your life before was bizarre and that the life we are leading now is merely ordinary,' Castiel argued. Bobby nodded sagely. Life had a way of turning out entirely different from how you had expected it to turn out. Very few demons and a lot of lazy Sunday afternoons where Dean and Castiel alternately kissed while listening to Led Zeppelin, read in bed in between sex and watched movies while feeling each other up on the couch.
Sometimes Miranda and Sam came over and they'd go out. They still had the Thursday evening standing tradition to hang out with Bobby. It was like nothing Castiel had ever dared to picture and it was wonderful. They sat in silence for a moment.
'How can you even afford university?' Bobby finally asked.
'We saved some money. Plus, we've got money invested in Sam. I'm counting on him paying that back someday with a hefty interest,' Dean said. Sam nearly choked on his beer and Bobby had to rather roughly pat him on the back a couple of times until he recovered. His face was red.
'That was a birthday gift!' Sam protested. The three other men laughed. It was so easy to tease Sam. Dean said it was like taking candy from a baby, but Castiel had tested that once and it was more difficult than it seemed. The baby had had a surprisingly firm grip on the chocolate bar and when it started to cry its mother had pummelled Castiel with her handbag. Dean had been forced to drag him out of the park, because people had been getting quite upset. So, perhaps it resembled taking candy from an old person? An opportunity to experiment with this idea had not presented itself to Castiel yet and Dean didn't like his experiments anyway.
2016
Despite the fact that Sam had been threatening to call any daughters of his Deanna and Cassie, his daughters escaped that fate. Miranda resolutely vetoed the names. Instead on the 23rd of January, one day before Dean's birthday – makes it easier to remember, Dean said – Rosemary Deanna Winchester was born. Dean immediately took a liking to her when she bit his finger so hard that she drew blood, which was convenient since he was asked to be the godfather.
On the 7th of December of the same year, Amy Joanna Winchester entered the world. Miranda didn't have any siblings, so she asked Castiel to be the godfather. He had tears in his eyes when he accepted. Dean rolled his eyes at him, but he couldn't hide his smile either. It was like being accepted into a family. Officially Castiel's last name was Nicholson, but he had never felt more like a Winchester than when he was holding the little, red, squirming, new life in his arms.
2017
Life was good. Miranda cut back work, but mostly Sam took care of Rose and Amy with a little help from Castiel and Dean. Castiel didn't understand how Sam did it. When Castiel had to take care of the girls, he could never get anything done. No reading, no studying; he couldn't even watch TV. Yet, whenever he went by Sam and Miranda's apartment, the girls were always sleeping peacefully or playing quietly while Sam was pouring over his law books. He had finished his undergraduate pre-law and criminal justice programme and was now reading for his J.D. degree.
Dean and Castiel's lives were good too. Castiel had read in the Cosmopolitan that after a few years the sex would become boring and less frequent, but no such thing had happened. And he still felt a burst of happiness whenever he woke up next to Dean. Dean, however, seemed a bit antsy. He was less pessimistic than he used to be, but he still basically held the belief that fate was a bitch.
'What is wrong, Dean?'
Dean was startled from his gloomy reverie. Heavy sunlight fell on him through the kitchen window. It highlighted every line in his face. Once again Castiel wondered about the colour of Dean's eyes. Now they seemed almost golden. Instead of narrowing down the colours, Castiel kept adding more possible colours, which was somehow not frustrating. It was like discovering a new freckle on Dean's body; just nice.
'Our lives feel like one long Sunday afternoon. That's what's wrong,' Dean replied. He flopped on the couch and Castiel lay down on top of him. The tips of their noses touched and Castiel inched closer to kiss Dean's mouth. It was warm from the sunlight.
'I like Sunday afternoon. What's wrong with it?' Castiel asked against his lover's lips. The short stubble on Dean's cheeks tickled him.
'It ends. It always does,' Dean grumbled. The following year he was proven right.
(***)
Both poems are by E.E. Cummings.
The poem Castiel reads is complete and unedited.
Here's the unabridged version of Dean's pick.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)