Archive of Our Own

It’s the end of January, just a few days after Dean’s birthday, when he drops the news.

“I’m moving out.”

Dean doesn’t look at Sam when he says that. He keeps his eyes firmly on the cup he’s scrubbing from breakfast, handmade from the farmer market with a little bee sitting on the handle, so detailed that Dean can’t help but admire the craftwork. Only the sudden silence in the room when Sam stops hacking on the keyboard of his laptop gives him a hint that his brother heard him loud and clear.

He’s not planning to elaborate, though, and so the silence settles uncomfortably over them until Sam finally clears his throat.

“You, um…what?”

“You heard me.” 

Scrub. Rinse. Dry. Repeat. As long as his hands keep moving, he doesn’t have to turn around and face Sam. It’s cowardly, but this is exactly why Dean pandered around this conversation since - well, technically since the second that Chuck got rid of his almighty powers and the hamster wheel shattered on the ground. 

Maybe he should’ve prepared better for this, to make sure that Sam knows that Dean doesn’t want to get away from him, that he’s not leaving his pain in the ass little brother on his own now that their story isn’t dictated by some narcissistic, psychopathic, sorry excuse of a God anymore. This is not what this is, not at all. 

Behind him, Sam moves and Dean’s fingers grab the next mug harder (bought at a souvenir shop in Nevada, a cactus with a cowboy hat printed on it).

“Okay. Where to?”

The water in the sink is cold by now and Dean takes his time with his answer, fills up the hot water until his skin burns when he slides his hands back into it.

“Not sure yet. Somewhere close. Gonna have to see what’s around.”

“Just you then?”

Out of all questions Sam could’ve asked, it’s this one that makes Dean turn around and glare at Sam.

“‘Course not just me.”

What kind of question even is this? Hasn’t Sam been around for the last two months?

It has taken two weeks after Chuck went down, two weeks of screaming into the void, cursing at Jack and Amara and Death and every other entity he could think of, only surviving on two hours of sleep occasionally and caffeine, tearing through book after book to find a way to rip the layers of the universe apart and to reach into the nothingness of the Empty and get Cas back. Nothing was found in all of the fucking books of the bunker.

Two weeks and then, one day, like nothing happened, the bunker shook and the lights went red and before Dean could even get out of his seat to grab a weapon, the air ripped apart with golden light and when the light disappeared, Cas stood there.

Dean remembers exactly how he looked in that moment, mouth dropping open in surprise, trench coat ruffled and tie backwards as always, his eyes still red and his cheeks damp from tears that he shed weeks ago like not a second has passed. Taking that all in in only a second was all Dean needed before he got out of his chair and tackled Cas in a hug that knocked both of them to the ground.

It could have been another trick of Lucifer. It could have been Dean going insane, finally snapping after all the terrors of his whole life, and seeing things, but he collided with the solid frame of Cas’s body and his fingers gripped tight into the familiar fabric of the trench and Cas’s arms around him held him closer than ever before. 

“You fucking asshole”, Dean has whispered, voice breaking around a sob he couldn’t control, “You goddamn son of a bitch, you idiot, I swear, I’m gonna smack you, I…” And Cas has laughed wetly against his ear, his whole body shivering in Dean’s embrace. They probably would have stayed on the floor like that forever, an uncoordinated tangle of limbs, if it wouldn’t have been for Sam and Eileen coming around the corner, alarmed by the bunkers tumult and ready to throw themselves into a fight. 

There were more tears and hugs after that and Miracle, the white dog that Dean stole (adopted, okay?!) jumped at Cas and showered him with dog kisses like he was a long lost friend and not a stranger coming into his house. Even when they settled down in the kitchen, a cold beer in front of everyone, Dean couldn’t look away from Cas for only a second, feeling weirdly breathless and like a helium balloon inflated in his chest. Sam took over explaining to Cas what went down since he fulfilled his stupid fucking deal and Cas tried to explain how he got out of the Empty - Jack was involved, obviously - but talking alone seemed to got him exhausted, so Dean interrupted the Welcome Home debriefing talk and tugged Cas along into one of the bedrooms next to his own. 

Cas has crashed then, stumbling over his own feet to get into bed and Dean has pulled off his shoes and trench coat before he threw the sheets over him. 

And then - then Dean sat down on the chair next to the desk, not willing to move a single inch away out of the room. He’s never gonna risk that again. He’s gonna keep his eyes firmly trained on Cas for the rest of his life and he’s gonna make sure that if the Empty would ever try to come and claim him again, it will regret it the second it shows its ugly face.

So that’s what he's been doing since then. And that means of course that if he’s moving out, he’s not gonna do that alone.

Sam doesn’t look very surprised at that and with a sigh he closes the laptop.

“He’s not getting much better, huh?”

It’s pretty clear who he’s talking about and Dean frowns, wringing the damp dish towel in his hands. 

Yeah, Cas’s trip to the Empty has clearly taken its toll on him. For someone who doesn’t know him very well it wouldn’t be very obvious, but Dean knows Cas better than anyone else and he sees it. He sees the way Cas holds tension in his whole body, how he gets nervous when a room gets too dark and how he sometimes seems to be somewhere entirely else, a haunted look on his face that barely fades when Dean talks to him. 

He hasn’t realized that Sam has noticed all of that too, tho. 

With a shrug Dean tosses the towel over the kitchen island.

“Can’t blame him, right? I mean, we’ve both been to hell, and if the Empty likes to get even more creative than that…”

Sam huffs out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah, no. But, um, you’re not doing that just for Cas, right? ‘Cause, you know, you always liked the bunker. More than I at least.”

“No, no, it’s not…not just for him. ‘s also for me.” Then, quickly, “I’m not tryin’ to get away from you, Sammy.”

“I know that”, Sam gently assures him, “I just thought you like it here.”

And it’s not like Dean dislikes the bunker. After all, that was his first home apart from Baby, a safe haven he always could return to. But right now, after everything that went down here…

Before Dean can even make a try to explain himself, footsteps come closer and Cas shuffles into the kitchen, running a hand through damp hair and Dean’s heart stutters in his chest. It’s a bit ridiculous, how it does that now whenever Cas enters the same room or Dean looks at him too closely when it was a steady, strong heart beat before. Dean always had good control over this stupid thing, locked up in a cage to prevent any outrage and then Cas had to come with his beautiful words and rip the door out of the cage and now…

Well, now they’re here.

Where Dean follows Cas with his eyes while he steps into the kitchen and beelines for the cup that Dean just cleaned to fill it with fresh coffee. He prefers softer clothes these days, sweat pants and worn out shirts and warm socks, things that sit loosely on his skin like too much pressure could hurt him. 

Giving Sam a warning look to make sure that the conversation is done for now, Dean clears his throat.

“Good shower, sunshine?”, he asks nonchalantly and Cas turns his attention to him, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Very good. I really enjoy the water pressure of the bunker.”

Dean chuckles.

“Yeah, something the old guys did right. How’s your grace holding up today?” 

Immediately the barely there smile disappears and Cas sighs.

“I’m afraid not much better than the last two months. This recovery will take much more time than I anticipated.”

He lowers his eyes down to his coffee and Dean bites his inner cheek to keep quiet. It’s been like that since Cas got out. Whatever has happened to him in the Empty, it has weakened his grace immensely and now he’s balancing on the edge of humanity, craving hot showers and soft fabrics and sleep more than anything. It’s only because he told Dean several times that he can still feel his grace in his core that they know that he’s still - at least partly - an Angel. 

There obviously would be a solution to get this cleared out. Heaven is safe now, with Jack and Amara working as a team, and going back up could definitely be worth a try to help Cas get powered up again. Dean knows that and Cas knows that and probably even Sam knows it, but no one made an attempt in the last weeks to suggest this way.  

It’s probably the most selfish thing Dean ever did, keeping Cas for himself like that. It’s just that it’s the only choice he has. Because watching Cas go again , leaving like he always did in the past…yeah, Dean is pretty sure that this would be the end of him. Not to be overdramatic, but considering that he barely manages to leave the bunker for more than an hour without Cas until the paranoia creeps in and he drops whatever he’s doing to hurry back asap and make sure that Cas is still there - yeah, seeing Cas leave for heaven definitely would fuck Dean up big time.

So he keeps his mouth firmly shut. And hey, Cas does the same, right? He’s not stupid, if he wanted to he would be up and away, but he stays. 

For whatever reason, this time he stays.

Exhaling a breath that feels like it got stuck halfway in his chest, Dean forces a smile back on his face and taps his fingers on the counter.

“Well, at least you got good coffee and hot showers to help, right?”

It’s a weak attempt to lighten the mood, but for whatever reason it works. Cas looks up at him and his blue eyes soften while he watches Dean packing away the cleaning stuff from washing the dishes.

“Right. That and a lot more.”

It’s a good thing that Dean’s head is currently under the sink so Cas doesn’t have to watch his ears turning fiery red.

---

See, the thing is, it’s not like Dean doesn’t want to talk about it.

Actually, he has about a million follow up questions he would like to ask Cas. Details from that fucking speech that are engraved forever in his brain and that he would love to pick apart to find out what the fuck Cas actually meant by it. 

But whenever there is an opportunity, whenever they’re alone (And lets be real, they’re alone a lot these days), something that feels like an ice cold hand squeezes around Dean’s vocal cords and the words die there before he manages to get them out. 

He is terrified. He wants to speak up, he wants to blurt out that Cas now has no other choice than to have him, but at the same time he wants to just keep going like this without ever muttering a word about what happened in the dungeon. It’s a good thing after all, right? He barely leaves Cas’s side, not even at night, staying curled up on an air mattress next to Cas’s bed and Cas just lets him.

It feels wrong, though. This whole pile of unsaid things sitting on Dean’s chest, it's constantly choking him, but he has no clue how to get rid of it. Years and years of bottling up your feelings don’t disappear just because a pretty boy tells you that he loves you. 

And so Dean keeps his mouth firmly shut and he keeps staying in Cas’s room at night and he trails after Cas during the day like a duckling and Cas doesn't mention it at all. 

So the days pass and when Dean finds himself at his laptop now he's not looking up cases. No, there are several websites bookmarked in his browser that he quickly clicks away as soon as someone enters the room. He kinda wants to find the perfect house on his own before he shows it to Cas and has to stutter his way through the whole explanation that yes, Dean is moving out and yes, Cas is coming with him and no, this is not up for discussion. 

What if Dean just kidnaps Cas? Grab him and put him in the car and drive to a house and just keep him there safe and sound. He's kinda sure that Cas wouldn't even mind. Best example of fucking Stockholm syndrome that they're having there. 

“‘s just not that easy, right, buddy?”, Dean mumbles towards Miracle who keeps him company, snoozing on his side next to the table. The only answer he gets is a wagging tail before the dog goes back to his deep slumber.

With a sigh, Dean rubs over his eyes and glimpses over his shoulder towards the doorway that leads from the map room to the kitchen. He can hear Sam and Cas talking and sometimes Eileen chiming in, quiet laughter and soft murmuring that lulls him into a sort of security. It’s nice, to have all of them around, safe in one place and he knows he will miss this, but these days, the walls of the bunker also feel too thick and sometimes Dean feels suffocated by them. He never thought that this day would come, but he really wants to get out. As long as he still has the chance.

When footsteps come closer, Dean quickly clicks the homepage away that he was just looking at (A nice three bedroom house three hours away, green front door, huge garden, but damn, the water damage in it looks horrible) and leans back, watching the door frame and smiling when Cas steps into the room, two bottles in his hand. 

“That for me?”, Dean asks and points to one of the bottles, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome”, Cas rumbles softly and sinks down in the chair next to Dean, taking a sip from his own bottle.

That’s something new too. The pet names. Dean has no idea how and when it happened, but suddenly pal and buddy turned into sunshine and sweetheart and darling and it slips so easily from Dean’s tongue that he wonders if he secretly always called Cas that way. And at the same time he curses his stupid mouth to be not able to say other stuff out loud that easily.

Cas doesn’t seem to mind either. He hasn’t mentioned it, but Dean notices the way his cheeks are always a little bit more colored after Dean called him something sweet and admittedly, it’s a bit fun, making a God honest Angel of the Lord blush over pet names. 

“What were you doing?”, Cas asks now and he squints at the laptop, “Are you looking for cases?”

“Nah.” There’s a local newspaper open now, “Just readin’. Nothing specific.” 

They sit close, like always, knees brushing under the table and Dean leans a bit to the side until their shoulders are touching too. It’s quiet between them for a while, but it’s the nice kind of silence, the companionable one that doesn’t make Dean’s skin itch with unsaid words. He sighs quietly with his next sip and Cas makes a questioning hum, but Dean just shakes his head and empties half of his bottle before he slaps his laptop close and pushes his chair backwards, reaching out his hand before his brain makes the connection.

“C’mon, I’m getting hungry, let's go somewhere for lunch.”

Cas stares at his hand for a second, slowly blinking, before he raises his head to look at Dean.

“Should we ask Sam and Eileen to accompany us?”

“Nuh-uh.” Dean shakes his head and pushes his hand towards Cas more insistently, “Just you ‘nd me. Come on.” 

When Cas slides his fingers into Dean’s hand, hesitantly like he’s afraid to burn himself, Dean grabs him firmly and pulls him up. It’s a move he already did a million times in their time together, but this time he keeps holding on. His heart pounds in his ears, loud enough to drown out every thought in his head, and he gives Cas a reassuring smile before he moves towards the hallway, fingers holding tight, and Cas follows him faithfully.

---

Four weeks later Dean finds the perfect house.

Or at least, it has the potential to be perfect. It’s close, barely a two hour drive and it’s a bit outside of a small town so there won’t be direct neighbors. The garden is overgrown, the roof would need some new gables and the floors definitely need some TLC, but still, the moment Dean sees the pictures he knows that this is right.

He doesn’t think twice when he messages the woman who sells the house and he gets an answer just two hours later that they’re welcome to take a look at it anytime. So that’s how Dean ends up in the car in the driver seat with Cas right next to him.

“Are you still not gonna tell me where we’re going?”, Cas asks, curiously looking up from his phone where the navigation app is open and Dean shakes his head.

“‘s a surprise”, he murmurs and tries to ignore the nervous flutter of his heart. It has started once they got on the road, a sudden chorus of doubts creeping up on him. Not about what he wants, no. That’s really fucking clear. 

But what if Cas is gonna stand in front of the house and tell Dean that he doesn’t actually wanna stay with him? What if loving Dean isn’t enough for him to stay? What if he just waited to get a bit better before he could get outta here? Or what if the house is terrible? What if Cas hates it? 

“At the next opportunity, turn right”, the mechanic voice of the navigation app chimes in and Dean slows down when he spots the narrow street that leads through a bunch of trees before it opens up to a clearing that is filled with cold sunshine. And there, right in the middle, is the house.

Dean stops the car and he turns to Cas who is looking out of the window with a confused frown.

“So? Whaddya think?”, Dean asks nervously and rubs his fingernail over the seam of his jeans, just to do anything with his hands.

“I…I am still not sure what we’re doing here.” Cas turns away from the house, “Is someone we know living here?”

“Nope. C’mon, let’s take a look around.” With an encouraging smile, Dean opens the driver door and ignores how his heart pounds in his chest like a caged bird that tries to escape. Cas follows him. 

It’s a cute house, just like in the pictures. A green front, red gables and a Hollywood swing on the front patio that quietly creaks when it moves in the wind. The key is hidden under a plant pot right next to the door and Cas raises an eyebrow when Dean picks it up and turns it in the lock.

“I am pretty sure that counts as trespassing”, he says dryly.

“Not if I got permission.” Flashing him a grin, Dean swings the door open and then lets Cas step in first. The door opens to a little mud room and after that, the living space with an open kitchen. It’s a bit dusty, the floors scratched in several places, probably from heavy furniture being dragged around, and the wallpaper coming off the walls. The kitchen seems to be in surprisingly good shape, though, and Dean runs his hand over the counter that separates it from the living space. He can already see himself preparing dinner there when Sam and Eileen are coming over or breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning. 

“There is nothing suspicious here”, Cas interrupts his thoughts and Dean turns around to see him inspecting the fireplace, “What are we exactly looking for?”

“Just…lookin’ around.” Watching Cas out of the corner of his eyes, Dean moves to the next room, a bedroom that has the ugliest carpet that he’s ever seen in his life (which says a lot considering how much time he spent in cheap motels) and a bathroom, then back to the hallway that leads to a backdoor and a little laundry room underneath the stairs.

“You wanna check out the upper floor or the garden first?”, he asks Cas, who slowly follows him.

“I…am not sure. If you would tell me what you’re searching for I could be more helpful.”

“I’ll tell you later”, Dean promises, his heart skipping a beat again, “So, garden or upper floor?”

Cas sighs.

“I suppose the garden should be next.”

“Alrighty.” Clapping a hand on his shoulder, Dean stirs Cas towards the backdoor and pushes it open. It leads to a little stone patio with several broken plant pots and behind it is the garden. Or more like, something that could be a garden with some work. The grass is high enough to brush against their shins when they slowly walk through it. The trees are not as close here as they are in front of the house and it opens up to a field in the back of the garden where the sun is already sinking low. With their breaths visible in front of them, Dean looks around and squints while he tries to get a vision.

“You’re more of the nature kinda guy, man, you think this could be saved with some work?”

“The garden?”, Cas checks and nods, “Yes, I think with some love and care it could be beautiful.” He kneels down and presses a hand to the ground, rubbing his thumb over the earth, “The earth here is nutritional and I think even a vegetable garden should be possible. Maybe different flower beds for bees and butterflies. Or a garden pond for…” He trails off and then shakes his head, “Well, whoever lived here didn’t care for it in quite a while.”

“‘s not her fault”, Dean says and he gently taps Cas’s arm to move him back to the house, “The lady who owns it has lost her husband three years ago and this garden was his baby. She has a bad back and couldn’t keep up with it.”

“Where is she now?”, Cas asks when they reach the back door again.

“Livin’ with her son close by. Upper floor now?”

“Lead the way.”

At least three of the stairs creak terribly under their weight when they make their way upstairs and Dean thinks for a second that they would crumble and crash his leg or something like that, but they reach the upper floor unharmed. There are only two more rooms up there, the master bedroom with a bathroom attached and a smaller one that probably has been an office. Both are empty now of course and Dean steps to the window in the master bedroom to take a look outside. From up there, he can overview the garden and the fields behind and the sinking sun turns the room into an orange lightshow.

“This is a really nice view”, Cas says quietly and when Dean turns his head he finds him right beside him, their shoulders gently brushing against each other. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, the intensity of Cas’s blue eyes compete with the sunlight and Dean silently agrees.

“You like it?”, he asks instead and clenches his fist inside the pockets of his jacket, his heart starting to soar again.

“Yes, I do. This is a beautiful place.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m thinking about buying it.”

Cas stays silent for a few heartbeats, then he turns to Dean.

“You…you want to buy this house?”

Nervously Dean licks his lips and he nods.

“Have been looking for a few weeks now, actually”, he mumbles, “Just couldn’t find the right one.”

He tries to read Cas’s face, but for once it’s impossible, because there is so much happening at once. He sees how Cas tries to make sense out of his words and all he can do is wait it out. 

Cas swallows quietly and then he turns back to the window, staring at the sun going down.

“Well. You chose well. I hope that you’re gonna like it here.”

“You’re coming with me.” 

Maybe he should have started with that. 

Cas’s eyes come back to him immediately, his mouth going slack.

“I…what?”

“You’re coming with me”, Dean repeats, “I’m buying it for us.”

He’s saying it like it’s not up for discussion and shit, maybe it’s manipulative, maybe he should’ve asked first, but in Dean’s head the possibility alone that Cas would say no, would leave him again, makes him wanna rip his brain out. 

Cas keeps staring at him like he grew a second head.

“You can choose a room”, Dean continues, “”Any room you want. I can fix it for you, make it just how you like it. Or we…” His heart is beating so hard now that he thinks that Cas must be able to see it through his chest, “I don’t know, turn one into a guest room and…and if you don’t want your own room, I…”

“Dean”, Cas interrupts him quietly and Dean blinks heavily, his head spinning. Cas has turned fully towards him, his eyes not leaving his face for a second, wide and full of emotion that Dean can’t quite clock, “Dean. Why?”

“Why? What d’you mean, why?”

“Why are you doing this?”

Oh, it could be so easy. This could be it, the moment, the perfect moment that in every movie or romance book would be thee opportunity to bare his heart to Cas, to finally spill and then run into the sunset together. 

It could be, if this wouldn’t be Dean’s life and if he wouldn’t be so fucked in the head that the thought alone of trying to find the right words makes him nauseous. 

So instead he swallows everything down, swallows his heart and shrugs instead, hoping that if he tries hard enough, words won’t be necessary for now.

He’s trying, okay? He really is.

“Just thought a house would be nice”, he mumbles, “Somewhere quiet, with some nature around. Having a room with actual daylight.” Hesitating a second, he nods towards the window, “Bet the dog will love a garden.”

Cas is still staring at him, he can feel it on his face and it makes him squirm inside, but he keeps his eyes straight forward. 

“And I want you with me here”, he adds quietly, “Wanna do this with you together.”

Please don’t say no. If Cas says no, Dean is pretty sure he will die.

It takes another moment until Cas slowly turns his eyes away to follow Dean’s gaze outside.

“Just you and me”, he says and if Dean isn’t mistaken, his voice is a bit shaky.

“Yeah. Just you and me.” And after a second, he adds, “And the dog.”

“And the dog.” The corner of Cas’s mouth quirk up and he leans in, his shoulder brushing against Dean’s and staying there, being sucked into his orbit as always, “I think I would really like this room. The view is breathtaking.”

Dean smiles.

“Whatever you want, sunshine.”

---

The truth is, Cas set the bar so fucking high. With that speech that he laid on Dean, the words he used and that are now imprinted into Dean’s mind forever. Of course he had to spin them into poetry and now whatever Dean would try to tell him, to say back, would be insignificant against it. 

And that is scaring the hell out of him.

He gets it, okay? What Cas was saying, the whole stuff about changing him, he gets it. Because Cas did the same thing to him. He grabbed Dean’s soul and he saved him in ways that Dean never thought would be possible and with the years, he restored Dean’s faith and gave him something to believe in. Because his father might have failed him and God might have failed him, but Cas…Cas never did. Whatever they went through, in the end Cas always did what he had to do and most of it he did for Dean. What else could Dean believe in?

And Cas deserves to know that, but Dean is just not like that. Fuck, he barely manages to tell his family how much he loves them. If he can’t even tell his brother or couldn’t tell his parents, how could he ever say it to the person that owns his heart? 

No, if Dean is gonna do that, he’s gonna do it right and if he never gets his shit together and spill - well, then he will just show Cas.

And he starts with the room that Cas chose.

It is hard work to get the house back to its shiny self, but it’s good work. To be honest, Dean thrives a bit in it. He always liked working with his hands and seeing things coming together underneath them instead of tearing them apart, so he’s ripping out carpets and he’s stripping walls from old wallpaper and he’s yielding the paintroll and replaces broken pieces of drywall and at the end of the day he enjoys the ache in his muscles that it gives him.

Cas tries to help, obviously, but quickly they both agree that he’s much better in the garden and that’s where he spends the time that Dean works inside the house, pulling out weeds and cutting the overgrown grass and bushes and sitting on the floor of the patio, making plans what he wants to plant with Miracle napping right next to him with his head in his lap. Every time Dean looks out of the window to sneak a look at Cas outside, his heart stutters pathetically at the view, of seeing Cas sitting there cross legged on the patio, bundled up in the warmest parka Dean could find and a beanie that constantly slides down to his eyes, scribbling away in a notebook while using one hand to absentmindedly scratch Miracle’s ears. 

I love you, Dean thinks desperately, fuck, you have no idea how much I love you.

He wants to scream it out of the window. But instead he goes back to work.

“When do you wanna move in?”, Sam asks one evening when they’re sitting on the floor of the living room, devouring some pizza that got delivered. They don’t have any furniture yet, but the living room and the kitchen are clean now and once Dean is done with Cas’s room, he’s gonna tackle these ones next. 

“As soon as there’s a bed and a couch at least”, Dean mumbles with his cheeks stuffed full of meatlover pizza, “And the shower is working. Am not gonna drive back to the bunker every day for a proper shower.”

“Why don’t you just get some stuff out of the bunker? Your beds and the chairs from the movie room…”

“It has a name, Sam.”

“I’m not calling it the Dean Cave. You know what, I think I’m gonna remodel it when you move out.”

Dean gasps.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Maybe turning it into a yoga room”, Sam muses thoughtfully and then ducks to the side when Dean throws the crust of his pizza piece at him.

“That’s how you treat my memory”, Dean huffs.

“Dude, you’re not dead. You’re just moving out.” Sam gives him a smile, but if Dean isn’t mistaken, there is a bit of tension on the edges of it, “It’s gonna be a bit weird, huh?”

It definitely will be. Except for a few years, they lived their whole lives together. In any other case, Dean would have thought that Sam would be the one leaving first. Finding a wife, starting a family et cetera et cetera, and that Dean would be left behind. He would’ve dealt with it, he likes to think. Whatever would’ve made his little brother happy. But now Dean is the one leaving and while he knows that Sammy is not alone, that he has Eileen and that Dean is not far away, it still stings a bit. 

“You will get used to it”, he deflects with a grin that feels a bit forced, “Hell, you’re gonna be so damn busy with your little hunter network project that you’ll barely realize that I’m gone.”

Sam shakes his head and tosses the crust of his pizza piece in the carton.

“I’m gonna miss you. Both of you”, he says, “But I’m also happy for you, you know? The house is really great and I know you’re gonna make a home out of it in no time.” Then he flashes Dean a smile, “You’ve always been good at that.”

Dean’s head turns fiery red and he huffs to dismiss the words, brushing some crumbs from his jeans and then gets up to pack the trash away, just at the same time the front door opens and Cas comes in. Miracle darts past him immediately to jump at Dean first, then at Sam and then starts sniffing the air to find the source of the delicious smell.

Something warm settles in Dean’s core and he smiles at Cas over the kitchen counter.

“Heya, sunshine. Good walk?”

“Yes, very successful, if you would ask Miracle”, Cas answers and shakes some raindrops from his hat, “He chased a pigeon over the field and was very proud of himself.”

Dean chuckles and sneaks the pizza crust that Sam left in the pizza box to give the dog a little treat.

“There’s some pizza left for you, if you’re hungry”, he tells Cas and it earns him a soft, tired smile.

“Thank you”, Cas rumbles, “I will just hang up my things.”

He leaves the door to the mudroom open and Dean watches him, how he hangs up the parka and shakes off his shoes. There is more color in his cheeks these days, no doubt from the amount of time he spends in the garden now, and when they’re at the house, he moves a bit more freely, his eyes more clear, the tension from his shoulders nearly wholly gone. 

Yeah, even if Dean would have his doubts about leaving the bunker behind, seeing how good it is for Cas would be one hundred percent worth it. 

When he turns back to finish cleaning up, he’s catching Sam watching him with a weird softness in his eyes and Dean raises an eyebrow.

“What?”, he asks, a bit irritated to be honest.

Sam shakes his head.

"Nothing." Getting up as well, he’s scratching Miracle’s ears who is now sitting next to him, staring expectantly at the leftover pizza box, “‘s just good, seeing you building a life of your own, you know? Without Chuck steering the wheel.”

Dean’s stomach twists a bit with a surge of anxiety like it does every time Chuck’s name is mentioned and quickly he concentrates on wiping invisible crumbs off the counter. Thankfully Cas coming back into the living room spares him from giving an answer and Dean takes the time to cut the pizza box apart until it’s something similar to a plate to serve the leftover pizza for Cas. It earns him a soft squeeze of his shoulder and Cas eats standing right next to him, leaning into his space and Dean ignores the way Sam watches them, well aware that there is no chance of hiding what changed.

---

They move in two weeks after Sam’s birthday and it only takes them one trip to move all their stuff. A bunch of boxes and bags and they’re done. When Dean steps into the house and drops his last duffle on the floor, the air around him shifts in a way that makes his heart ache bittersweet. He has a house now. A home. A place with windows and a nice little kitchen and a garden. Making a few steps inside, Dean takes everything in. How the dust dances in the sunlight breaking through the windows, how the floor over his head creaks where Cas walks through the bedroom, putting stuff away, how the previous empty room is now filled with furniture they picked up together from a thrift store or from strangers who offered their stuff on the internet. 

It feels a bit like walking through a dream. When he was younger, he allowed himself to think about a future like this sometimes, at night when everything was dark and Dad couldn’t see his face and maybe read his mind. Later, when they settled into the bunker, he barely thought about these daydreams anymore. Why would he? He had a home then and a full pantry and a place for his little brother to sleep. Wishing for more would be simply audacious. So he didn’t.

With a sigh, Dean sinks down on the couch (brown leather, cracked on some places, bought from a hippie couple from Craigslist) and scratches Miracle behind the ears when he immediately jumps up there next to him, huffing happily and turning three times before he flops down with his head on Dean’s knee. 

“You like it here, buddy?”, Dean mumbles and runs his hand through the soft fur, “You think Cas likes it, too?”

The answer is a wagging tail against his leg and Dean smiles, settling into the couch more comfortably and listening to the rumble over his head. Over the last weeks, he changed the window in Cas’s bedroom, he sanded and polished the floors, he drove Cas wherever he wanted to pick furniture, decoration and paint for the walls and he gotta say, the room came together pretty damn good. Cas likes dark wood, warm colors and paintings with landscapes. He chose plants and a comforter in the color of a sunset and books to fill the shelf they found at a thrift store. With every little piece he got, Dean’s heart soared higher and higher, because what else could that be than Cas making himself a home?

Something bumps on the floor of the bedroom and Dean hears Cas cursing quietly, so he gives Miracle a last head scratch and gets up. The stairs still creak underneath his boots, but he kinda likes that sound now, so he doesn’t plan to fix it. The door to Cas’s room is open and when Dean steps in, the first thing he sees is a bunch of pillows on the floor and Cas halfway stretched over the bed, fighting for his life to get a sheet over the corners of the mattress. 

“You’re alright there?”, Dean asks amused and Cas looks up, his hair a mess and his face red.

“This is a torture device”, he huffs, “It was invented to inflict frustration until you want to burn the whole stupid thing down.”

“I told you not to get one with the rubber band in it”, Dean grins and steps closer, “They never fit right.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but he looks too tired for a bitchy comeback and so Dean has mercy and grabs the other side of the sheet. Together they manage to wrestle it over the corners and once they’re done, Dean flops down on the bed belly first. It’s pretty comfy, he has to admit. He talked Cas into getting one of the memory foam mattresses and it’s really awesome, just as good as the one he had in the bunker. 

He only realized that his eyes dropped close when Cas sits down next to him on the bed, close enough that Dean feels the warmth of his body. Rolling his head to the side, he blinks at him.

“Want me to get the curtains up for you, sunshine?”, he mumbles. The sun has already settled and outside the sky turns from dark blue to a deep black, dotted with stars. Cas is probably just as tired as Dean is after moving day, so if he wants to get the room ready for sleep, Dean will definitely get his tired ass up and going. 

“No”, Cas says quietly and he settles down next to Dean on his elbow, “Actually I think I will enjoy waking up to daylight tomorrow.” He smiles, soft and still exhausted and Dean’s fingers itch to reach out and touch the dark circles underneath his eyes. He curls them into fists instead.

“Sounds nice”, he murmurs and drops his eyes close again, snuggling his cheek against his own arm, “I’ll make you a damn good breakfast.”

Cas huffs, that little sound he does when he doesn’t quite laugh but is still amused and Dean smiles into his arm. It’s a good sound. He wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

“You don’t need to do all these things for me, Dean”, Cas rumbles quietly and his hand finds Dean’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Ngh”, Dean grunts back. His eyes are really heavy now, “Like taking care of you.” He reaches out, blindly over the fresh sheets, until he finds Cas’s wrist and holds onto it. Cas doesn’t pull away. Instead he turns his hand so Dean’s fingers stay on the softer, more vulnerable skin on the inside of his arm. 

He should probably just get up and get ready for bed. There is a couch waiting for him downstairs or an air mattress for the floor in Cas’s room, but Dean doesn’t move. He can’t. Not when Cas slowly starts to draw patterns on his arm and not when he feels him this close. His heart roars, stutters in his chest, a frightened little thing that glimpses through the bars of the cage it has been hidden behind for years. 

But the door of the cage is cracked open now, blasted out of the hinges and Dean would love to be able to lure his heart out easily. He just has to figure out how.

He nods off, waking up again disorientated, the room much darker now. Light comes in from the hallway and he hears Cas’s quiet voice from downstairs and the excited tap-tap-tap of Miracle’s paws on the floor. Dean turns to his side and he doozes off again. 

The next time he wakes it is completely dark outside and the only light comes from the open bathroom door. He hears water sloshing and Cas tapping around the small room, bare feet on tiles. With some confusion Dean tries to take notice of his own state and realizes that his boots are not on his feet anymore and that he’s all curled up on the bed, a pillow under his head. He can’t remember moving.

He probably should move.

The footsteps come closer, a quiet click when the light gets turned off and suddenly only the moon brightens the room. The mattress dips when Cas gets into bed and Dean holds his breath. 

Cas shuffles and his hand brushes Dean’s arm, before his fingers curl around his biceps.

“I know it is much to ask”, Cas whispers into the darkness and Dean’s heart threatens to jump out of his throat, “But will you stay here with me tonight?”

Dean lets out an indefinable grunt and he rolls over so he’s facing Cas. Warm breath caresses over his face and not for the first time when it’s dark around them and Dean’s eyes are closed, he thinks of possibilities, of inching closer and closer until…

The comforter gets pulled over him. He’s still in his jeans and shirt from the day and he should brush his teeth, but now that he’s surrounded by Cas’s smell and his warmth, there is no way he’s gonna get up again.

Dean falls asleep easily and during the whole night, he lets Cas hold onto his arm.

---

The small town they live nearby now is only a little bit bigger than Lebanon. The main street is cute with buildings that have that old brick charme and lots of greenery planted at the side of the road. The people are also nice. Nosy, of course, curious about the new neighbors, but nice. 

It’s not like they socialize much and Dean kinda likes that, keeping Cas selfishly for himself, but walking next to him through the streets while they make their way to the little hardware store Cas wants to visit, nodding to the people they come across, it’s still nice. 

There’s an honest to god bell ringing when they step into the store and the owner, a man in his elderly years that reminds Dean a bit of Rufus, acknowledges their arrival with a nod and a grunt before he disappears behind the counter. His wife, short white curls and always wearing a red apron with the store’s name embroidered on it, seems to be much happier about customers. She shows Cas the gardening tools with a big smile and then stays with Dean, chatting along while they both watch Cas going through the stuff that he so desperately needs now that the spring slowly brings the garden back to life.

“Now, how do you two like it here?”, the woman asks, “It was so sad for Marjorie to give up their house, but I think she knows that it’s in good hands with you or otherwise she wouldn’t have sold.”

“It’s really nice”, Dean says, smiling when Cas picks up a big straw hat from the top of the shelf, “Lots of work, but good bones.”

“Good, good. Two strong young men like you, you’re gonna fix that up in no time.”

Dean chuckles.

“Well, I do most of the renovation stuff, Cas takes care of the garden. I wouldn’t even know where to start there and he has no idea how to wield a damn hammer, so I guess we’re just playing out our strengths.”

“Sounds like you’re a good team, you and your partner.” 

Her smile is warm when she says that, but Dean’s stomach still drops.

It’s definitely not the first time that people confuse him and Cas as a couple. There were people who said it mockingly, their enemies most of the time, clearly trying to get under his skin. Dean always just rolled his eyes and didn’t comment on it. Never denied it.

Well, he’s not gonna start doing that now.

Clearing his throat, he shrugs and manages to get the smile back on his face.

“Yeah, uh…I guess we’re doin’ alright.”

She pats his arm and then tells them to call if they need any more help before she turns towards another customer that needs help choosing some wire for a chicken coop. Dean watches her go, his caged heart glimpses through the bust open door of its cage, carefully tethering the edge of it like a little kid that steps a toe into cold water. He holds his breath, waiting for it to jump, but the water is too dark and deep and it sneaks back into the corner of the cage. Not yet. Give me more time. I need more time.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Dean turns back and nearly jumps out of his skin when Cas stands right in front of him, his arms full of some stuff that look more than torture tools than gardening stuff, the strawhat sitting on his head and a little smile on his lips.

“I have everything I need”, he tells Dean, “We can go if you’re ready.”

“Uh, sure.” 

He keeps his head down when he pays, only waves when the shop owner calls them goodbye from the other side of the shop and he doesn’t talk the whole way back to the car. Cas seems to be content with it, though, walking next to Dean and carrying his new goods, refusing to let Dean help him when he reaches out to take some of the things out of his hands.

Sinking into Baby’s familiar seat immediately makes Dean feel more calm again. He shifts in the seat that after years and years of spending long hours behind the wheel is now perfectly formed for his body and starts the engine as soon as Cas makes himself a home next to him, the sound of a bass guitar filling the car. 

Dean doesn’t even make it past the first crossroad when Cas reaches out and shuts down the radio. He completely ignores Dean’s scandalized look and instead he says very calmly, “You didn’t correct the woman at the store.”

Glad that he has an excuse to not look at Cas, Dean swallows and stares straight ahead at the road. He takes his time with answering.

“You heard that, huh?”

“My grace might be very damaged and diminished, but my hearing is still superior compared to the average human.”

“Bragger.” Dean smiles and Cas hums thoughtfully, keeping his eyes firmly on the side of Dean’s face until he squirms a bit in the seat.

“Uh, yeah. I…You heard that right”, he finally mumbles and his fingers grip the wheel tight enough that his knuckles turn white.

Cas is still watching him.

“Okay”, he then says and Dean’s breath leaves his lungs in a rush when Cas finally turns his head back to the window, “I am thinking about putting a beehive in the garden. What do you think about that?”

Dean groans.

---

May ends with a constant week of sunshine and Dean still hasn’t spent a single time on the air mattress or the couch or god forbid, even the room downstairs that was supposed to be his. Morning after morning he wakes to a blue sky and a mop of unruly dark hair on the pillow next to him and his toothbrush sits next to Cas’s on the counter in the bathroom and his robe is thrown over the armchair that Cas put right in front of the window. 

And Cas hasn’t said a word about it either. Every night, he simply gets into bed next to Dean, close enough for him to feel his body heat, sometimes reaching out to hold onto Dean’s arm or pushing his leg over to Dean’s side until his knees knock against his thigh, but that’s it. 

It drives Dean a little insane.

He compensates by spoiling Cas rotten. He gets up early to make Cas his favorite breakfast every morning, whistling quietly to the music coming from the radio and smiling how Miracle darts out of the backdoor through the garden for some morning zoomies and then back in for his own breakfast. He puts on fresh coffee and he cooks pancakes to perfection to top them with peanut butter and he butters toast and gets scrambled eggs and bacon on it. Sometimes Cas comes downstairs before Dean is ready, steps heavy and yawning, not ready for any kind of conversation, but taking the steaming cup of coffee with a thankful smile. He never says anything about it, but Dean thinks he basks a bit in the undivided attention and it makes his stomach all hot like a warming bonfire.

After breakfast Cas always looks after the garden and Dean gets busy with whatever is on his never ending list of fixing up the house. Today he wants to fix the floor of the second room on the upper floor, while he still has no idea what to do with it. He was thinking about turning it into a guest room before, but now that he doesn’t even use the other bedroom, he’s out of ideas what to do with a spare one. 

Maybe turning it into a little library or an office with some phones in case other hunters need help.

Wrestling with some of the nails in the wooden floor, Dean ignores the little pinch of guilt in his gut when he realizes that he hasn’t been on a single hunt since Cas came back and that he’s not very eager to change that anytime soon. He has more than enough to do here and while Cas is doing much better, he’s definitely not in the right shape to go hunting and there is no way Dean is gonna spend several days apart from him. Nope. These times are over.

From downstairs he hears the creak of the backdoor and then Cas calling out for him.

“Dean?”

“Upstairs!”, Dean calls back, sitting back on his heels and wiping some sweat from his forehead. Some of these nails in the floor are stubborn.

Cas’s heavy steps come closer and Dean turns towards the open door, smiling at Cas when he steps in.

“You’re good, sweetheart?”

Cas nods, but his hands are folded carefully around something in front of him, like he’s carrying something with him.

“Do we have a jar somewhere? Preferably a big one.”

“Uh, sure. In the pantry probably. Whatcha got there?” Getting up and wincing when his knees protest, Dean gets closer and Cas carefully opens his hands. Inside his palm, snuggled against his skin, sits a bumblebee. At first Dean thinks that it's dead, but then the little legs are moving slowly and it wiggles around a bit like it tries to get back into the safety of the cave that Cas’s hands have provided.

“I found her outside”, Cas explains, “Look at her wings.”

Dean does and it’s pretty obvious that something is wrong with the bumblebees wings. They’re shorter than they should be, looking deformed and like something bit pieces out of it.

“Huh”, Dean says, “Any idea what happened?”

“Maybe she got attacked by her own kind or another bigger insect. What I do know is that without help she will die.”

Dean fights a smile.

“She?”

“Her name is Dolly”, Cas nods seriously, “I will get her a jar and then flowers and water.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Dean follows Cas downstairs and he stays by his side while Cas gets the biggest jar he can find out of the pantry and then gets into the garden to collect some flowers. There aren’t that many yet and Dean thinks it’s pretty sweet that Cas sacrifices the first blooming flowers of his garden for a little bumblebee with broken wings.

Maybe he sees himself in her, Dean thinks while carrying the jar with Dolly and following Cas through the garden, maybe he wished that someone would have saved him too when his wings were broken. The guilt makes him immediately sick to the stomach and without even realizing it, Dean holds the jar with the bumblebee a bit tighter and closer.

He would have never thought that an insect could have a personality, but the days pass and it turns out, Dolly is a funny little thing. She can’t fly, but sometimes she hops a bit, her deformed wings buzzing, but she never comes far and then quickly crawls back to her jar or Cas’s hand. Every morning now, Cas carries her outside and lets her crawl over all the fresh flowers, collecting pollen and morning dew drops.

“Male and worker bumblebees only live between three and four weeks”, Cas tells Dean while he watches Dolly resting on his finger, “The queens actually can live up to a whole year.” He curls his fingers protectively over the little bee and to his surprise, Dean immediately feels sad about the prospect that this little girl will only be in their lives for such a short time.

But the weeks pass and three weeks turn into four and then into five and Dolly still happily crawls around in her jar and accompanies Cas during his work in the garden. He has started to prepare the ground for a vegetable field now and while he doesn’t think that he will start planting anything this year, he seems genuinely excited by the project. The sun is much warmer now and Cas often carries Dolly around on his straw hat while he digs into the ground. More often than not Dean watches him from the patio, sipping on a bottle of water or a coffee and smiling about how the garden comes back to life. It’s beautiful. 

Cas is beautiful.

Even with that ridiculous hat.

They haven’t lit the fireplace yet since Dean hasn’t come around to properly clean it, but one evening Dean still finds Cas sitting in front of it, criss cross apple sauce, with Dolly’s jar in front of him. He looks up when Dean comes closer and a sad smile rushes over his face.

“She’s very slow today and hasn’t eaten anything”, he says quietly, “I think this might be her last night.”

The sun goes down on the horizon and bathes the living room into orange light and Cas’s pinky gently brushes over the back of the little bumblebee who once again sits snuggled into his palm, her antennae only twitching slightly. 

Kneeling down next to them, Dean feels a lump in his throat and he puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder, squeezing it carefully.

“‘m sorry, Cas”, he mumbles, “Was kinda hoping she would be a queen and could stay around a bit longer.”

“Yes, me too.” Cas’s smile is visibly watery, “But she already lived much longer than her kind usually does. I’d like to think she had a good life.”

“She did”, Dean agrees, “You saved her.”

With a quiet sigh, Cas lets Dolly back into her jar, freshly filled with daisies and she immediately hides underneath one of the leaves. For a moment, he leans his head against Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s throat gets even tighter. 

“C’mon, lets bring her upstairs”, he mumbles, “I’m beaten, I wouldn’t mind an early night.”

“Me neither”, Cas agrees and he hugs the jar tightly while he follows Dean up the stairs and into the bedroom, carefully sitting Dolly’s home down on the nightstand next to his side.

Cas falls asleep with his head on Dean’s chest that night, his breath warming through the thin fabric of his shirt and his hair tickling Dean’s chin and Dean hopes that his heart doesn’t pound too loud so it won’t wake Cas up. He tightens his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer and for a fraction of a second, he lets his lips rest on the top of Cas’s head. 

Dean doesn’t sleep well that night.

---

It seems appropriate that on the next morning, the sky is gray and rain hits the window, because when Dean wakes, dizzy and sleep deprived, Cas is sitting upright next to him, his hands folded around a lifeless tiny body and eyes watery. He smiles at Dean when he notices that he’s awake, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Dean has no idea what to say. 

So instead he finds them an empty package of matches and he takes a few minutes to paint it with some leftover white wall paint and then even sketches out some crooked little flowers on it. They look pretty shitty, but they make Cas smile and at least that’s something.

They bury Dolly underneath the daisies which were her favorites to climb around, standing side by side. Even Miracle, who’s normally very much struggling to stay still, sits quietly next to them, pushing his nose against Cas’s hand from time to time and licking his fingers whenever that earns him some head scratches.

Quietly Dean clears his throat.

“You, uh…you wanna say something?”

Cas inhales shakily. He hasn’t cried, but his voice still breaks a bit around the words when he speaks.

“As tiny as you were, you carried so much life and joy with you. Thank you for choosing us to be your family. It might have been a short time for us, but for you it was your whole life and I am thankful that I was allowed to spend it with you. I will dearly miss your company in the garden and the bright light of your soul.”

Dean chuckles quietly and he wraps his arm around Cas’s shoulder.

“Do bees really have souls?”

“Every living being has a soul, Dean.”

With a soft smile, Cas slings his arm around Dean’s waist and leans against him, a solid warm weight in the damp cold air around them. Tugging him closer, Dean resists the urge to kiss the side of his head. Instead he waits until Cas is ready and when they walk back to the house, Miracle leaping ahead, eager to get out of the rain, Dean keeps his arm around Cas and Cas holds onto him the same way.

The drizzle becomes proper rain and by afternoon, the first signs of a proper storm are ahead of them. The wind tears at the trees outside and the house creaks with it and Dean is glad that he has already fixed that one hole in the roof or otherwise the attic would definitely be drenched by now. He spends the afternoon baking brownies, thick and gooey with melted chocolate and he watches Cas who keeps pacing in front of the windows, watching the storm with a worried frown.

“Hey”, Dean calls to him softly, “‘s gonna be okay. Forecast says it will clear up over night.”

Cas sighs and he turns away from the window in the backdoor, walking back to the kitchen and leans on the counter, watching Dean sprinkling chocolate chips on top of the dough.

“It still will be enough to destroy some of the plants”, he says, “A lot of them haven’t rooted properly yet and they are fairly small. I would have preferred to grow them in a safer place like a green house before I set them outside, but we only have the shed and that doesn’t have enough light.”

The tone in his voice is so sorrowful that Dean’s heart aches. Not enough that Cas had to say goodbye to his little companion today, now the storm is destroying all his hard work, too. This day really sucks. 

“‘am really sorry, darlin’”, Dean mumbles, not looking at Cas while he carefully puts the baking pan into the preheated oven. Cas answers with a quiet hum.

“Well, maybe we have enough luck that some of them survive. And if not, I will start over. It is not the end of the world.” And then, with a smile, “And even if it would be, we would prevent it as usual, right?”

It startles a laugh out of Dean, deep from his belly and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, right”, he chuckles and from the distance, he hears the rumble of oncoming thunder, “I’d prefer some peace and quiet before the next apocalypse, tho.”

When he looks up, Cas smiles at him, looking weirdly proud for making Dean laugh like that.

“I trust Jack to handle things so we won’t have to worry about this anytime soon”, he assures Dean quietly and walks over to grab a towel and help Dean cleaning up the mess he made on the counter, “I’d even go so far to say that we never were in a safer place than we are now.”

Dean agrees, but the mention of Jack alone is enough for his throat to tighten and quietly he keeps bumping his shoulder against Cas’s while they wash the dishes side by side. Outside, the storm roars.

---

The bell of the hardware store door jingles when Dean steps in, a joyful little sound in the otherwise quiet store. It’s pretty empty today when Dean looks around, just one other customer roaming through the shelves with the nails and screws. 

The nice lady from the last time is nowhere to be seen and so Dean heads to the counter where the shop owner rubs a rug over the dark wood, watching Dean with squinting eyes when he comes closer. Wrinkles are all over his face and his hair is more gray than black, but his eyes are awake and wary in that way that reminds Dean so much of Rufus.

“‘Mornin’”, Dean greets once he reaches the counter, “If I wanna build a greenhouse, can I get everything I need from here?”

The man’s eyebrows raise and he looks over Dean’s shoulder, huffing out a breath.

“Damn rare sight, seein’ you walking ‘round alone”, he says, his voice sounding like a lifetime of chain smoking. Dean shrugs and burrows his hands in his pockets. It is a rare sight and he’s not a big fan being in town without Cas next to him, but this is supposed to be a surprise and Dean can’t pull that off with Cas and his superhuman hearing in the store.

“Yeah, well”, he mutters, “So, can I get the stuff here or do I have to drive outta town?”

With a sigh like Dean is a big disturbance in his business, the man puts down the rug.

“Guess the wood and stuff you can get from here, but we don’t sell glass or plastic like that. C’mon, I’ll show you what we got.”

He limps when he comes around the counter, dragging his left foot after him and Dean follows slowly towards a door at the back of the store. It leads outside in a backyard and to a little warehouse. The man leaves the door open and Dean feels the muscles in his back tense, a years old condition of be aware . Underneath his shirt, the cold metal of his gun presses into his back and it’s that grounding feeling and the fact that he doesn’t sense some real danger that makes him follow the guy into the warehouse.

The smell of wood hits him once he steps into the door and takes a look around. He has a list in his pocket and when he shows it to the shop owner, he pulls glasses out of the front pocket of his overalls and squints at Dean’s handwriting. 

“You’re buildin’ that for that man of yours?”, he asks while his finger skims over the list and Dean makes a confirming sound, ignoring how his stomach turns hot all over again. The man nods and then walks over to some of the posts leaning against the wall, “My Betty likes him. Says he has a good eye for gardening. ‘s her passion, so she’s always happy to share her wisdom.”

It’s the most words Dean has ever heard from the man and he follows him with slow steps.

“Yeah, he’s really good at that. Totally transformed the garden, but the storm wasn’t nice to it.”

“Uh-huh, that was a mean one”, the man huffs and stops, turning to Dean, “I can order the stuff we don’t have here for you and get it delivered to your place. Might just take a week or two.”

That is a pretty nice offer, considering that Dean has expected that he has to sneak out of town to get all the stuff.

“That’d be great”, he says and the man grunts while fumbling with a pencil to check off some of the stuff from Dean’s list, walking around and making marks at wooden posts.

“Don’t think that will fit in your pretty car”, he remarks while walking and Dean raises his eyebrows.

“How’d you know what car I drive?”

The man huffs out a noise that’s probably a laugh.

“67 Chevy Impala, black, great condition? A beauty like that doesn’t go unnoticed, boy.”

“Cas has a truck”, Dean says slowly, “I can take that and pick the stuff up.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it”, the man grumbles, “I’ll order what you need and send our weekend help Barry over once it’s here. Don’t wanna ruin your surprise, heh?”

“That’s…” Blinking a few times, Dean fights down the urge to insist that this isn’t needed, that he can pick up everything himself, but to be fair, Cas would get suspicious if he’d take the truck, “Thanks. ‘ppreciate that a lot, uh…” He winces, “Sorry, never asked your name.”

“Damn right you didn’t. ‘s James. Call me Jem, that’s what everyone ‘round here does.” Jem waves his hand with the list, “I’mma keeping that. Sunday works for you?”

“Sure. Thanks again.”

He follows Jem back inside and insists on paying upfront, also putting some extra dollars on the bill for the delivery which makes Jem roll his eyes, but Dean refuses to take it back. He waves goodbye and tells Jem to say hi to his wife and then he leaves, itching to get back home.

---

Just like promised, on Sunday a truck, even older than Cas’s, slowly rolls in front of their house, the loading area fully packed with material and Cas watches Dean unload everything (with some help of Barry) with a confused frown.

“Is this for new windows?”, he asks and carefully inspects one of the glass panels.

“No”, Dean grunts, “‘s for the garden.” He salutes Barry who just climbs back into the truck and watches him leave, not daring to turn to face Cas.

“Why do we need windows in the garden?” Cas sounds utterly irritated and Dean sighs internally. He already knew that he wouldn’t be able to pull this off without Cas noticing something, but his neck is still burning when he shuffles his feet in the gravel.

“‘cause a greenhouse isn’t a greenhouse without these big ass windows, right?”

Behind him, Cas goes quiet.

Very quiet. 

Quiet enough that Dean glimpses over his shoulder to make sure that he is still there.

He is, and he is staring at Dean like he is not sure if he heard right what he just said.

The heat from his neck is traveling up into his cheeks and quickly Dean lowers his eyes to his feet again.

“‘s not a big deal”, he mutters.

“You…you are building a greenhouse?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” With a shrug, Dean rubs his finger over one of the wooden poles, “Don’t want your whole garden to be messed up every time there’s a storm coming, right?”

“Dean…” 

Cas’s voice cracks in a way that immediately makes Dean’s stomach turn in the worst way and this time he whirls around, terrified of what he’s gonna see, because the last time he heard Cas’s voice like that was…

But there is no portal of black goo opening behind them and Cas is not snatched away from him, but he still stares at Dean with the same glassy eyes, every emotion possible written into the smile and the tears on his cheeks and Dean fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up again.

“Shit”, he curses quietly, “Cas, I’m sorry, I…I’m so sorry, I didn’t, I just thought - “ He has no idea what to say, no idea how to fix this and when he makes a step closer, Cas retreats backwards, holding up a hand to stop Dean’s movement.

“If you come any closer…”, he whispers, his voice hoarse in a way that makes Dean’s heart scream in agony, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to restrain myself from kissing you.”

The panic inside Dean’s chest comes to a stuttering halt.

Hold on, what?

Blinking rapidly, Dean stares back, mouth suddenly incredibly dry.

Cas doesn’t look away from him either, a teardrop catching on his lower lashes, and his smile is so wide and honest that it makes Dean dizzy.

He doesn’t think when he steps forward.

Cas makes a noise that Dean never heard from him before, a desperate intake of breath that seems to get stuck in his throat and he surges forward, meeting Dean and his hands are strong and warm when they cover Dean’s jaw before he crashes their lips together.

Nothing in the universe could have prepared Dean for the first taste of Cas. His kiss is bruising, full of years of restraint, but his lips are soft and full and fit perfectly against Dean’s. He has no idea what he’s doing, his hands somehow landing on Cas’s hips, fingers digging into the warm flesh and a whine escapes his throat, embarrassingly high, but the noise only seems to spurge Cas more on. 

He pulls Dean flush against him, one hand moving from his jaw to his neck, keeping him trapped there, one on his back, holding tight. There is not an inch between them now, but Dean still finds himself wishing they would be in some type of cramped space so Cas could pin him against a surface and lean his weight on him, completely surrounding him until he is the only thing Dean feels.

Dean has always liked to think of himself as a good kisser, as someone who is able to read his partner and figure out in seconds how to harmonize with them, but well, none of the previous people he kissed was Cas. With all of his senses completely overwhelming him, Dean simply has no choice but giving himself over to Cas, letting him dominate the kiss like he pleases and it turns out that Cas kisses him like he spent years imagining how he wanted it to go, which, oh , probably might be true.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there. He doesn’t care about it either. What he knows is that when Cas starts to ease him out of the kiss, Dean isn’t ready. The whine he makes against Cas’s mouth is truly pathetic and Cas’s hands are back on his jaw, holding him trapped there even when their lips separate.

Breathing heavily, Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers into the small space between them, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”, Dean asks back dizzily, his world still spinning and it feels weird to speak, like his lips not being pressed against Cas’s is all wrong all of the sudden.

Cas laughs, a wet, tiny laugh, disbelieving. Maybe this feels just as unreal to him like it does for Dean.

“In the sense that I shouldn’t have done this without asking you, yes. I am sorry for that.”

“Mhm. Got a warning.”

“That you did”, Cas agrees and he pulls back a bit more, studying Dean’s face for several seconds, “You look scared.”

Dean nods.

“Terrified”, he mumbles before he leans in to claim Cas’s lips again.

---

It turns out that it is incredibly difficult for Dean to keep his hands away from Cas, now that this line has crossed. Sure, in the past he has always taken advantage of the touches that he could get away with, of the shoulder brushing and the clap on the back or the holding of Cas’s hand to pull him up from the ground or in death or alive situations, even the soft brush of fingers through his hair. But now, now that he is allowed to touch however and whenever he wants to…

He keeps his hand on Cas’s lower back when they walk the street. He grabs his hips when he squeezes past him in the kitchen. He rests his head on Cas’s shoulder when they sit on the couch or he strokes his knee with his thumb when they’re driving. And in the darkness of their bedroom, Dean sometimes gets bold enough to kiss Cas again and to touch underneath his shirt and to draw little breathless noises from him that make him insane. 

His heart soars with every touch and Dean knows that this should be the goddamn happiest that he’s ever been.

Except he’s not.

Sometimes he forgets it, when Cas leans against him and answers Dean’s touches with smiles and kisses. It reminds him that they’re here now, together and safe and that should be enough, it should be everything, but it’s not. And it irritates the fucking shit out of him.

It’s so obvious that even Sam notices it.

From the open backdoor, leaning against the frame, Dean is watching Cas walking next to Eileen through the garden, stopping at the daisies and probably telling her about Dolly who rests there under the flowers, his hands flowing along his words flawlessly. There are flowers everywhere now, little dots of color dotted all over their garden and Dean is so distracted watching sun rays dancing over the line of Cas’s neck that he only notices his brother when a cold bottle is getting shoved into his hand.

“He’s not gonna disappear, you know”, Sam says and Dean frowns.

“What?”, he asks back, not even turning his eyes towards Sam.

“Cas. He’s not gonna vanish just because you look away from him for a moment.”

In any other situation Dean would think that Sam is teasing, but his voice is too serious. Swallowing harshly, Dean takes a sip from the beer Sam brought with him.

“Yeah, well. Wouldn’t be the first time”, he mutters.

“I know. But I’m pretty sure he’s happy to be here with you, so…”

Dean shakes his head. Sam can’t know that he doesn’t mean if Cas is wanting to leave or not. There’s been too many times in their lives when he was taken away from Dean against both of their wills. Dean’s hardly to blame to keep an eye on him all the time.

Not bothering to answer, Dean just keeps looking and he feels Sam’s eyes on the side of his face. Internally he counts the seconds until his brother will break the silence again and he sighs quietly into the neck of his bottle, preparing for a heart-to-heart.

“Soooo…”, Sam starts slowly, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”, Dean grunts back. Yeah, he’s really not in the mood for this.

“Happy.” 

Dean’s hand, half on the way towards his mouth, freezes. 

That was definitely not the question he expected.

All of the sudden, his limbs feel numb and he has to clear his throat several times, slowly putting his bottle down again, overly aware of how his fingers start to tingle.

“Do I not look happy?”, he asks back, a bit snappy, a bit defensive, and Sam raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know”, he says, too honest for Dean’s taste, “I mean, you look pretty tired most of the time, but I guess the house is a lot of work, and I’m not even gonna touch the whole stuff that happened over the last year, but, um…I don’t know. Probably was just hoping you’d find some peace here.”

“‘s as peaceful as it gets here”, Dean mutters, “Won’t get any better than this.”

“Yeah, but also, you being with Cas, I thought…I mean, you always insisted that this kinda life isn’t for you anymore, but here you are and…”

Dean’s hand holds the bottle so hard it cramps and there must be something on his face because Sam trails off and suddenly he sounds very unsure.

“Or, um…did I get something wrong there?”

Staying quiet, Dean keeps his eyes firmly on Cas. A few clouds have blocked the sun for a few seconds, but it breaks through again and bathes Cas in its shine and Dean’s heart aches. Sometimes he thinks that it’s not possible, that something is wrong with him for the whole amount that he feels when he looks at Cas. Like his body is about to burst with all of it, with the longing and the dependency and the fucking love he keeps trapped inside of him. How is he ever supposed to get used to that? How is he ever supposed to be normal about Cas?

The silence stretches and it isn’t fair to Sam who only means well, so Dean sighs and he carefully puts his bottle on the ground.

“I’mma spend the rest of my life with him”, he says quietly, his eyes not leaving Cas for a second, “I’mma get him everything he wants, a garden, a house, a ring, I will do anything I can to keep him safe and happy, but…I don’t expect the same for me, y’know.”

“Dude”, Sam says and he nearly sounds offended on someone else's behalf, “You’re talking about the guy who rebelled against heaven and God himself for you, how can you think that he wouldn’t give you…”

“I can’t even tell him”, Dean interrupts him, the words coming out weirdly choked and something ugly is twisting in his chest, “I…I look at him and I feel so fucking much, but I’m messed up, Sammy, so…yeah. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to put in words what he means to me, ‘s just too much. I…I never…I don’t know how.”

He risks a glimpse at Sam and he is surprised to see his brother looking at him like his words don’t even make sense. With a huff, Dean quickly turns away.

“Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right. Never been good with that chick flick stuff.”

“Well, not with me. Or mostly anyone else”, Sam agrees, “But with Cas? C’mon, man.”

There must be a really stupid impression on Dean’s face, because Sam rolls his eyes and continues, “You always opened up to him the most. No matter what it was, the hell stuff, Michael, or just everyday issues. He just had to say your name and give you that one look and you would talk.”

“I, uh…” For some reason, Dean’s neck gets pretty hot, “You noticed that?”

This time, Sam throws him a bitch face.

“Dude, I had to watch you two dancing around each other for years and then you just started to act like a married couple. Sure I noticed that. And it’s fine, you know. He’s your best friend, and you guys have that profound bond and everything. Of course you trust him with that stuff.”

“‘s not like I don’t trust you”, Dean quickly tries to assure him, “‘s just…”

“I know.” And Sam’s voice turns gentle, “I know, Dean. What I wanna say is, you already know how to open up to him. You did it the entire time.”

Now, thinking about it, Sam is probably right. It’s never been an issue, talking about stuff with Cas. He always gets it and even the darkest stuff that’s going on in Dean’s head from time to time, Cas never flinches away from it. Quite the opposite, he encourages Dean to tell him about it and none of it has ever made him change his mind about Dean.

This one, though, this one is different.

Swallowing, Dean turns back to watch Cas and he wishes he would still hold onto his beer, just to have something in his hands.

“He, uh…”, he starts quietly, “When he told me, he…” His mouth snaps shut without him able to do something about it. He never talked about that before, about what Cas did to summon the Empty. Hell, most of the time he even refuses to think about it, it’s just…he can’t.

But Sam seems to understand anyway. His eyes go a bit wide for a second, but he recovers pretty quickly and follows Dean’s eyes, watching Cas bending down to pick up a stick for Miracle and throw it across the lawn.

“Jack wouldn’t allow it to come for him again”, he says slowly, “He promised to keep all of us safe and he got Cas out of there in the first place.”

“I know that”, Dean snaps, “It’s still fucking terrifying, okay? You weren’t there, Sammy, you haven’t seen him like that and this was just him telling me while I stood there like a fucking idiot and…” Remembering Cas’s superior inhuman hearing, Dean quickly dials his voice down, “I can’t mess this up, alright?”

For a moment it looks like Sam wants to protest, but he shuts his mouth close when he notices that Cas and Eileen make their way back to them. Quickly Dean forces a smile on his face and claps his hands together.

“Alright, who’s ready for burgers?”

Collective enthusiasm is the answer and everyone makes a beeline for the kitchen, Miracle trotting in front of everyone, definitely motivated by the word “burger”. When Cas passes Dean, he stops for a moment and puts his hand on Dean’s chest, right above his heart.

He doesn’t say a word and he doesn’t have to. Trapped by his gaze, all Dean can do is stare back, aware that Cas probably looks right into his soul right now and while Dean is terrified what he might see there, he holds very still, only his heart pounding heavily under Cas’s palm.

Whatever it is Cas is looking for, he seems to find it, his eyes softening and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s embarrassing, how much that little hint of a smile makes Dean feel dizzy and he catches Cas’s hand when he takes it from his chest to lift it up to his lips for a second and presses a kiss against his wrist.

“C’mon, gonna feed you some damn good burgers”, he mumbles and Cas’s smile widens. 

“Gladly.”

---

Sam and Eileen stay the night, making themselves comfy in the room downstairs that was supposed to be Dean’s room. It’s not a late night for them, the sky not even fully dark when Dean lets Miracle out of the backdoor for a last potty session in the garden. He hears the water in the bathroom downstairs running and Eileen laughing along something Sam says to her, their words muffled through the wall.

Cas is already upstairs, getting ready for bed as well. The day has worn him out, his smile looking like it needs strength to stay on his face the longer the evening continued. It’s still like this from time to time with him, even after months of being out of the Empty, when reality seems to weigh down on him, no matter how happy he seems. Dean can’t blame him. It’s the same for him. While he loves being around his whole family, it does drain him in ways that don’t happen when it’s just him and Cas.

He whistles for Miracle who got distracted from his duty by sniffing around the garden bed that Cas started to dig out for future vegetables and the dog darts back to him, all floppy ears and wagging tail. He jumps once at Dean before trotting past him into the living room to curl up on his favorite place on the couch. With a chuckle, Dean gives him some good night scratchies and leftover chicken breast as a snack before he makes his way up the stairs.

When he steps into the bedroom it’s empty, but the bathroom door is open and he can see Cas standing in front of the mirror, striped pajama pants and no shirt while brushing his teeth. The air gets stuck in Dean’s throat for a second while he watches the muscles in Cas’s shoulders follow the movement of his arm and the desire to touch flares up in his stomach. 

Cas smiles at him through the mirror when Dean makes his way behind him, foam around his lips and Dean smiles back, tired and lazy, before he wraps his arm around Cas’s waist from behind and tugs his head into the crook of his neck. 

It has quickly become one of his favorite places on earth. He loves how Cas smells there, like sunshine and fresh air and earth, sometimes a bit salty with fresh sweat or citrussy from the body wash. A quiet laugh makes Cas’s throat vibrate against Dean’s nose and a hand reaches up and around to gently card through his hair.

“Did you have a good day?”, he asks quietly and Dean hums a confirmation against his skin, too comfortably wrapped around Cas to bother to answer more eloquently. It was a nice day after all, seeing Sam and Eileen is always nice, but actually Dean is quite happy to have Cas back for himself for now. 

Maybe he can just have it this way. Maybe it’s enough and they can be happy just like this, tucked away into their own little corner of the world. Dean meant what he said to Sam earlier, he’d do anything Cas wishes for to make him happy and that…

Cas knows him. It should be enough.

He makes a protesting sound against Cas’s skin when he wrestles himself a bit more free to rinse out his mouth and put the toothbrush back, but then Cas turns in his arms and pulls him into a hug and yeah, fine, that’s a good alternative.

Cas’s hands are warm and strong where they stroke slowly over Dean’s back, putting pressure on the constant tension sitting in his muscles and Dean sighs quietly. He gets tired so easily these days and it’s a good thing, because it means that at the end of the day he’s mostly exhausted enough that deep sleep waits for him just minutes away. Cas probably feels that in the heaviness of Dean’s body.

“Let’s get you to bed”, he whispers into Dean’s ear, his lips brushing against the shell which leaves goosebumps all over Dean’s arms, “It was a long day.”

Mumbling an agreement under his breath, Dean allows Cas to part from him and shuffles towards the sink to get ready himself. Cas keeps him silently company, sitting on the edge of the bathtub and it’s only when Dean is ready that he follows him outside to get into bed.

The sky is dark outside and dotted with stars. They still don’t use blinds or curtains, the light of the moon outside often enough to calm the fear that Cas still carries with him when it gets dark in the room. 

With a yawn, Dean climbs into bed, rolling onto his side where Cas’s arms are already waiting for him. It’s warm and it’s cozy and it’s perfect and he doesn’t need anything else that would probably be messy enough to fuck this whole thing up.

With a quiet click, Cas turns off the lamp on the bedside table.

Dean’s eyes stay wide open.

He is aware of the gentle kiss Cas places under his ear and he holds his breath a bit while Cas settles behind him, arms strong around Dean in a way he never thought he would have even once, let alone for the rest of his life.

His heart does that weird thing where it tries to hide in the corner of the cracked open cage and at the same time screams at him to do something. 

Do it yourself, if you think it’s that easy, Dean wants to scream back, his hands balling into fists without him having control over it. 

He’s a coward.

He’s a coward and he knows it and Cas deserves better, he deserves more than a broken man who barely manages to stutter out his feelings, but Dean also knows him and he knows that Cas will stay content with what he gets like he always did, he will keep looking at Dean with adoration in his eyes and take his hand when Dean reaches for him and…

With a groan, Dean reaches out and slams his palm on the button of the bedside lamp. Suddenly the room is filled with light again and Cas grunts out a confused, already half asleep noise when Dean wriggles himself out of his hug.

“Dean?”

“Shut up”, Dean gasps, “Shut up, this…Cas, I need to say something.”

Slowly Cas sits up and despite his eyes still adjusting to the sudden light again, Dean notices how cautious he looks.

His heart is pounding now, hard enough that it probably bruises his ribs and his throat is fucking dry like the sahara. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this terrified, not when he faced his father or Chuck, but he also thinks he might die if he keeps the words to himself much longer.

“Dean”, Cas repeats quietly, soft and gentle, an understanding in his eyes, “It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything.”

The noise that escapes Dean’s throat is a tortured gurgling and Cas reaches out to grab his hand.

“I don’t need to hear it”, he continues tenderly, “It’s okay.”

“Fucking hell it’s okay”, Dean croaks out, “Look, I know that you don’t need to hear it, okay, but I…I need to say it. You…I swear to God, I think if I don’t, I…”

“Okay”, Cas interrupts him and he squeezes his hand, “Okay. I’m all ears.”

Dean’s heart stutters. And stops. 

And then it breaks free.

With the blood rushing in his ears, he allows his mouth to speak.

“I love you.” It’s nothing more than a whisper, nearly getting lost in the room, but Dean sees the words reaching Cas and suddenly it’s the easiest thing in the world, “Fuck, you have no idea how much I love you. I should’ve told you so much sooner, even before…I should’ve told you years ago. Cas, you’re…you’re everything, sweetheart. I’m lost without you, okay? So…so you can’t ever change your mind because I swear, I have no idea how I’d handle losing you again.”

His rumbling is pathetic, but now that he started, he can’t stop, not even when he notices how Cas’s eyes start to look glassy, just like they did right before they kissed for the first time and Dean’s breath hitches in his chest.

“I love you”, he repeats, “And I will tell you every day for the rest of our lives, ‘cause…because you deserve to hear it.”

“Dean.” Hearing his name in that breathless, awestruck sound of Cas’s voice is better than any declaration of love, “I already know. You don’t have to say it, you already told me in so many ways. These last months that we spent together…I thought I reached happiness when I allowed myself to be honest with myself and with you, but that was nothing against what you showed me.”

“‘s not enough”, Dean protests weakly, “You deserve more. You deserve everything.”

“I already have you.” The smile is back on Cas’s face, the watery one that once was connected in Dean’s mind for the worst day of his life, but now makes his heart blissfully aware of the love inside of him, “And I feel if I’d ask for more, I would be greedy. I already feel guilty for allowing you to spoil me the way you did since I’m back.”

A breathless laugh escapes Dean’s throat.

“You noticed that, huh?”

“It was difficult to miss.” The sparkle in Cas’s eyes has nothing to do with unshed tears, “But I have to admit, it’s nice.”

“Yeah? Then you better get used to it, ‘cause that’s how the rest of your life is gonna look like.” He is sure that he is floating over the mattress, only held down by Cas still holding his hand. Without hesitation, Dean reaches out and cups Cas’s cheek, dragging his thumb over the stubble there.

“I love you”, he whispers again, tasting the words on his tongue over and over again and now that he said them the first time, he can’t get enough of it. 

Cas beams at him.

“And I you, Dean.” Lifting their joined hands to his lips, Cas’s kiss feels like an oath, “Please correct me if I make wrong assumptions, but that was hard for you to say out loud, right?”

“Fuckin’ terrifying”, Dean agrees, “It’s stupid ‘cause I knew for such a long time, but…”

“It is not stupid”, Cas interrupts him gently, “Trust me, I was scared as well. For someone like you, who feels so intensely, but is also used to losing the people he loves, speaking your truth can be an intense challenge.”

“Yeah.” For some reason, this makes Dean’s cheeks feel hot and quickly he looks down on their hands, “Was kinda counting on just putting a ring on you and you’d get it then, but…I don’t know. I needed to say it out loud.”

When he glimpses up between his lashes, Cas is staring at him and for some reason, his cheeks are pink now.

“You haven’t.”

Dean blinks.

“What?”

“You haven’t…’put a ring on it’.” Cas lifts their hands for the quotation marks and Dean’s eyes latch on his ring finger that is, now that he thinks about it, awfully empty. Looking back into Cas’s eyes, he licks his lips.

“Yet.”

Cas’s cheeks turn from pink to scarlet and before Dean knows it, he is pushed back into the pillow, Cas on top of him, kissing the fucking life out of him and Dean easily gives into it. His last thought, before everything in his mind is blown away by the feeling of Cas’s hungry lips on his, is that if it would take bringing down God to get to this point in life, then he would gladly do it again.

---

The summer months are filled with visits from friends and family, with more and more flowers turning their garden into a colorful paradise, with late evening barbecues and making s’mores over the fireplace built outside, with taking Miracle on long walks through the fields and holding Cas’s hand in his.

When fall comes around, Cas’s ring finger is no longer empty. It’s a simple ring, silver, the inside smooth against his skin, and Dean’s looks just the same. The ceremony has been bigger than Dean would’ve thought and it made him truly realize how much his family has grown over the years. It was still very nice, watching all the faces that came just to celebrate them, but also bittersweet looking at the places that stayed empty. 

Now, Dean wakes with his husband clinging to him like an octopus, limbs wrapped all around him in a way that Dean is used to by now and he knows how to move out of the hug to kiss Cas on the forehead and then sneak downstairs to get the coffee machine (a wedding gift by Jody and Donna) started. While letting the dog outside, Dean listens to the first rumblings of noises over his head when Cas notices that his human heating pad is gone and makes a sleep deprived attempt to get up as well. With a smile, Dean watches Miracle sniffing around the bushes for a little bit longer and when he hears Cas dragging his feet down the stairs, he leaves the backdoor open for the dog to follow when he’s ready. 

When Cas makes it into the kitchen, his cup of coffee is already waiting for him and he sighs thankfully, wrapping both hands around it and leaning against Dean, trapping him between his body and the kitchen counter, but Dean wouldn’t even think of complaining.

With a smile, he buries his nose into the soft, gray sprinkled locks over Cas’s ear.

“I love you”, he whispers.

It’s the easiest thing to say.