The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

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Ten years ago, Dean would never have dreamed of being at home on New Year’s Eve. But now? He couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

Taking in the sight in front of him, he wouldn’t change a thing.

The TV was playing quietly with the sounds of the DVD menu repeating itself. He could feel the warm weight of a small body relaxed against him.

Looking down he could see the blond wisps of hair on his daughter’s head. The three-year-old had been determined to stay awake until midnight like everyone else but it seemed she’d been defeated by the sleep monster (which surprised absolutely no one).

Dean reached out a careful hand, making sure not to jostle Emma in her slumber, to grab her Frozen blanket from her lap and wrap it around her shoulders.

Another hand reached across to help secure the wrapping. Dean allowed the comforting hand to brush against his and looked up to meet his husband’s eye.

“So much for her wanting to stay awake like a big girl.” Blue eyes lit up with a chuckle.

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Guess she must have crashed out after the second load of candy and Tangled.”

“Though, to be fair,” Castiel said, eying the clock on the wall above the fireplace, “it’s only fifteen minutes until midnight, so she was close.”

“Hm,” Dean agreed. “She’ll have to try for a new record next year.”

Castiel chuckled, a small smile gracing his features. Dean let himself get lost in it for a moment.

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There are a lot of pros and cons to Dean’s job, Cas realized pretty early into their relationship.

Like Dean’s alarm going off at 6:00 every morning and thereby waking Cas at Satan’s hour. Con.

Helping Dean with paperwork and documentation into the night because he’s not given the time he needs to do it while actually on the clock. Con.

All of the emergency meetings and random phone calls and emails pouring in during dinner time and even over the weekend. Con.

“Good morning everyone! It’s so good to see you again! Jayden, don’t put your iPad charger in your mouth!”

Hearing the genuine joy in his husband’s voice when he greets his second graders in the morning. Pro.

Dragging himself out of bed a few hours later and wandering through the background of Dean’s class during their math lesson and hearing a chorus of sweet voices disrupting their teacher to shout “Good morning Mr. Cas!” Pro.

Joining in on story time on the days his workload is lighter than usual because the kids like his villain voice best. Pro.

There’s a whole other list of pros and cons for when Dean physically had to go to school, back when the world still spun on its axis and spending time at home felt restful and even privileged.

Like last-second professional developments that kept Dean at work into the evening. Con.

Delivering homemade treats in the middle of the day for a classroom party and the kids looking at Cas like he holds all the contents of the galaxy in his plastic cupcake container from Target. Pro.

Dean bringing home every kind of germ, virus, and bug known to man. Con. A con that’s a little too on the nose for the times they’re living in.

But Dean also brings home the kids’ creations, their glimmering Valentine’s Day cards, spooky Halloween masks still damp from far too much glue, sweet little poems about families and beloved pets and flowers that grow in the cracks of playgrounds written in the fragmented penmanship of those still learning, still growing. Pro.

Seeing the love and admiration in Dean’s eyes as he proclaims the genius of his rowdy bunch of 7-year-olds. Pro.

“Okay y’all, can you show me how we mute our mics? Look at y’all! I see I’m working with professionals here, great job!”

Maybe this new way doesn’t come with quite as many pros and it certainly brought it’s fair share of cons. But at the end of the day, seeing the mist in his husband’s eyes when he signs off to a mixed jumble of cries of “have a good day Mr. Dean!” “Mr. Dean I miss you!” and “Love you Mr. Dean!” Pro. And worth every single con.

“If you keep this up, maybe we can convince Mr. Cas to join us for story time as a reward.”

Cas smiles at the mention of his name, back arching like a cat as he stretches and burrows deeper into his husband’s pillow. He still has a few hours until story time and if he does sleep a little late, Dean is here to wake him up. Pro.

(this is the place) where I feel at home

“When will you be home?” 

Castiel sounds like a wreck over the phone, and Dean’s heart breaks a little. It’s only been about two months since they adopted Jack, and Cas offered to take paternity leave for ten weeks so someone could be home with him all the time. Dean fought him on this, suggesting that they split their time, but Dean’s management position at the dealership makes him more money than Cas’s private school teacher salary, so they agreed that Dean would work full time the first few months, than take vacation time off once Cas went back to work. After that, they’d look into putting Jack in daycare. However, Dean isn’t so sure how long he and Cas can continue managing the toddler on their own. 

“I’m stuck on the freeway, traffic is bad because of the rain,” Dean explains, fiddling with the radio in his car to find the the local traffic and weather station, “but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

Cas sighs, and Dean can tell he’s bone tired. “Okay,” he says, sounding defeated, “It’s just… nevermind.” 

“No, Cas, what is it?” Dean probes, “Talk to me, babe. Hard day?” 

“I haven’t been able to just… slow down, or even just sit down and breathe, until now. Jack hasn’t settled since his morning nap, and when he cries I still don’t know what he wants. I do everything they told us in those parenting classes, Dean, I check his diaper, I play classical music, I carry him up and down the stairs and all over the house, I put him in his playpen, we do tummy time, I fed him and he threw up all over the floor, I –!”

“Cas, Cas! Hey, it’s okay,” Dean interrupts, because now Cas is just rambling, and that never ends well. 

“Is it?!” Cas sounds almost angry, and Dean feels guilty as all hell. He knew he shouldn’t have agreed to this arrangement. There’s no way Cas can handle doing this five days a week, ten hours a day, on his own. By the time Dean gets home, he puts Jack to bed before eating his own dinner and passing out. Cas truly has done everything for the past couple months. Dean tries to take over on the weekends, but Cas is just better at all of it, and faster, so he usually can’t help but take over whatever baby-related task Dean is attempting.

Dean shakes his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. This isn’t about you right now, he reminds himself. He had a busy, but relatively stress-free day at work. Now is the time to support his husband.

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologizes, hitting his blinker to pull off at the nearest exit. The back roads have got to be faster than this. “You’ve been amazing through all of this, Cas. We’ll find a way to make it work.” 

“Will we?” Cas asks quietly, but Dean can hear the doubt in his voice loud and clear. He knows where this is going. “Did we make the right choice, Dean? Can we really do this? Doesn’t Jack deserve better?” 

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The new teacher is flirting with him and Dean has no idea what to do. Well, he could stop bumbling about like an idiot and stand up for himself, but seeing as his brain won’t work that way, he’s out of options.

The guy’s good looking, don’t get him wrong, but he’s also…coming on very strong. Maybe that’s just Dean, where everyone comes on strong to him, but this guy is all up in his space and staring him down in a way that feels more uncomfortable than it should.

He says something about his classes, something about how sophomores are difficult, and pairs it with a laugh that’s far too breathy to be genuine. Dean nods along politely, kicking himself under his desk for letting this conversation go on as long as it has. He lets his eyes flick to the analog clock hanging on the wall and he realizes he’s only got 10 minutes until break is over. He’s got things to do and this brown haired fella who thinks he’s hot shit is taking up all his time.

“I should get some coffee,” Dean says, pushing away from his desk. Much to Dean’s dismay, the other teacher stands with him. At least he isn’t basically drooling on Dean’s desk anymore.

“I should too, may I join you?” His eyes are wide and his smile is soft and his hands are firmly planted in the back of his jean pockets. It would be cute if it wasn’t so try-hard. Dean caves with a groan and “helps” the other guy through the school as he plays up how lost he is. He’s miserable.

The dude keeps talking as Dean fills up the largest paper cup the cafeteria offers with black coffee. He continues to talk as he gets his own, going on about he just loves the way Dean has his room organized. There’s a large poster of the cover of Fahrenheit 451, matching ones for Dracula and Frankenstein and three large bookshelves. It’s thoroughly unimpressive. And even after Dean informs him that all his literature posters come from a publisher he contacts through the school, the new guy keeps talking, keeps asking questions. His dark hair falls in his face a couple times and the way he looks at Dean through his bangs and his eyelashes gets on his nerves. This is not a rom-com, it’s a high school. Everyone’s tired, Dean especially tired of this guy’s shit.

He almost leaves him in the dust as he trudges up a floor to his classroom. He’s got a class to teach and probably someone waiting for him. The guy says something about how he prefers his coffee a flat, boring brown color and Dean can’t help but think the description matches the man’s eyes.

Rounding the corner to room 213, he hears the first welcome piece of dialogue of the past twenty minutes. “Dr. Novak, are you sure you’re allowed to sit in his chair?” It’s the voice of 11th grader Patience Turner and the image that accompanies her question does not dissapoint. Cas is sitting there, twirling slowly around and around in his desk chair.

“Dr. Novak,” Dean says, strolling up to the desk, “I see you’ve made yourself at home in my chair, is there something you need?”

Cas just looks back up at him and says, “Your coffee preferably.” When Dean fits him with a look he says, “What? The coffee at home just isn’t the same.” Dean hands the cup over.

A small, impatient, cough disrupts their moment and Dean turns from Cas to the other teacher.

“Oh, hello,” Cas says, standing immediately in an effort to be polite, but Dean can see his face written with confusion. “I’m Dr. Novak, I teach freshman biology and junior chem.” He extends a hand that is taken with far too much hesitation for Dean’s taste.

The guy gives a slow nod, turns to Dean and says, “I prefer the humanities.” And then he winks. At Dean. In front of Cas. Instead of socking the guy in the jaw, Dean stares at him, open-mouthed.

Beside him, Cas is the one to react with a scoff and a glare. The guy has moved on though, deciding to once again lay his hands on Dean’s desk, touching all of the little things he’s placed there. He’s lucky Dean is pressed close to Cas on the opposite side of the desk or his invasion of privacy would be rewarded with a severely broken nose.

Dean and Cas just stare as the fingers ghost across the trinkets and eventually land on the little flag in his pencil jar. One of the man’s thimbas runs across the blue, pink, and purple stripes and Dean feels himself tense.

“This is wonderful.” Dean is still tense because of the presence, but less so not that he won’t be attacked for his sexuality. “It’s good to see someone so proud of themselves in a place like this.” In his peripherals, Dean sees Cas squint and Dean watches as the man beige him teeters on the edge of crossing a line. “I wish I could be so forward with my…emotions.” He looks Dean dead in the eyes with a sickly sweet smile and it’s so obviously not about pride that Dean wants to hurl.

Cas takes a surprised breath in that’s covered by the first bell. The other teacher is pulled out of his ploy and he rights the things he touched before looking at Dean one final time. “It was good getting to know you, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean laughs lightly as he turns away but as he turns to look at Cas he sees his jaw has tightened. Cas waits one more second before he blurts, “Doctor.” Dean drops his head to his hands, flustered by Cas’ need to correct the mistake.

“I’m sorry?” The guy asks. He takes a wary step into the class.

“It’s Dr. Winchester,” Cas explains. He points to one of the shelving units where Dean’s framed PhD sits. “It’s in contemporary literature. You would have known that if you’d tried to get to know him instead of get him home with you.” His voice is low and almost angry and Dean takes that chance to step in.

“Cas, honey,” he moves to stand between the two men, “not right now.”

“You’re my husband, Dean, I can’t just-“

“I know, but he’s new, give him a break.”

Cas sighs heavily and glares from Dean to the other teacher and back again. “There’s a photo of me on your desk and a ring on your finger, if he’s that stupid, he shouldn’t be teaching.” Cas says the last bit a little louder than necessary and Dean catches a flash of blush by the doorway when he turns around to check.

Dean waves the guy off, and turns back to Cas. “Problem solved.” To Cas’ disbelieving look he says, “I think he’s too scared of you to talk to me again, babe.”

Cas raises an impressed eyebrow and begins to walk away. He takes three steps before he turns to kiss Dean hard on the lips. Dean sighs into the kiss but his brain doesn’t let him forget about the class full of people. “Students, Cas, students.”

Cas adresses them, “My apologies.”

“Don’t apologize to me!” Krissy shouts from the front of the class. She gets two twin glares from her AP English and ex-chemistry teachers.

“Go to class, Cas,” Dean says with a light push. He watches Cas walk out and gives him a tiny wave of goodbye when he reaches the door.

He plucks his book from the top of his desk and strides to the front of the room, invigorated and free from the flirty presence of the other teacher. “Lets turn to chapter 29 in our copies of Anna Karenina.” Setting the book down, he writes on the board, Don’t mess with married people.

“Nice, Dr. Winchester,” Alex says with a little laugh.

“You can say ‘mister’. Cas is the only one who cares.”

She looks up again. “You mean Dr. Novak?”

“No, I mean Cas, and when you marry him, you can call him that too.”

@caslikescoffeeandfreckles this one?

YES THANK YOU

I know this meme is old by now since I drew it last month and never posted, but I hope you guys still like it

(prompt: more Spy!Cas (continuation of x))

Since their eighth wedding anniversary three weeks ago, they’ve been thinking about adopting - well, Dean’s been thinking about adopting. Cas hasn’t said the words out loud, but Dean’s left enough hints: adoption websites left open on the computer, the television queued to the kids’ channel, the toy store coupons clipped and placed at the table slightly away from the others.

After two weeks of hint-giving though, Dean starts to wonder if maybe Cas is that oblivious. Sure, Cas has always been uncertain with social cues, but the guy is a spy. Dean thought he’d notice the obvious. 

“So what do you think?” Dean asks over their home-cooked dinner. Dean made Cas’s favorite: hamburgers.

“About what?” Cas asks, looking up from the case files he has spread over half the table. Usually Dean would scold him for bringing work to dinner, but he didn’t this time, hoping maybe to butter Cas up just a little.

“You know,” Dean says. Cas squints and Dean rolls his eyes. “Adoption.”

“You want a pet?”

“I want a kid, Cas. Jesus.” Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to wipe away his frustration. Okay, so Cas apparently definitely missed the clues.

“Oh,” Cas says with a hint of something between disappointment and annoyance, like Dean just suggested they go watch one of those reality tv shows Cas hates instead of asking him if he wanted to, you know, have children.

Dean doesn’t want to show how much that one small utterance broke him apart inside so puts on his best neutral mask and picks up his plate to take to the sink. He’d barely eaten half his burger, but he doubts he’ll finish the rest. He doesn’t feel hungry anymore.

“Dean.”

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There are things Charlie Bradbury really hates about working as a cab driver: people who don’t leave a tip, demanding people, obnoxious people, overly chatty people… drunk people. Drunk people are the absolute worst. They often under pay, most puke in the backseat, and some get real handsy. So when Charlie gets the call to pick up some sloshed fucker at the Roadhouse, she isn’t a happy camper. 

When the drunk guy basically falls into her backseat and burps, oblivious as someone reaches in and hands her a paper with an address, she is doubly unhappy.

And when the dude leans over the passenger seat to smile dopily at her, she’s ready to punch him in the face. Pre-emptively, to prevent any touching. 

“Oh man,” the dude slurs, blinking like he’s gonna fall asleep. Charlie shifts uncomfortably, readying herself to react to some serious harassment. “…I can’t wait to see Cas.”

Um.

The man sighs happily, flopping onto the backseat. “I’m g’nna tiptoe up the steps at home ‘nd crawl int’bed with ‘im, and then jus’, jus’ kiss ‘im alllll over.”

Charlie’s brain glitches from what can only be an unholy mixture of confusion and shock. “Kiss… him…?”

“Yep.” The passenger pops his ‘p’ happily. “S’gonna be so good. He’s gonna love it. Fuck, I can’t wait.”

Charlie frowns. “And Cas is your… boyfriend?”

“Pfffffff. No.” The man sounds genuinely offended. “Cas is my husband. He’s jus’—oh man, he’s just ‘mazin. He can’t cook for shit, but like, he makes soap sometimes. And he’s messy but he’s jus’… real pretty, y’know? So pretty. I can’t wait to see him again.”

Biting her lip to keep from smiling, Charlie flips her turn signal. “Mm, I bet.”

“Oh yeah. I went out ‘cause it was Sammy’s birthday and Cas was feelin’ kinda sick, y’know, but now I’m goin’ home. It’s g’nna be great.” There’s a happy sigh from the back seat. “Yeah. I can’t wait to see him.”

The adorable drunken gushing over the drunk man’s husband continues for the full fifteen minutes it takes to get to his house. It’s a nice house; small, but with a tidy front yard and pretty english garden. It has a small front porch with a swing. As soon as he sees the yard, Charlie’s passenger almost kills himself trying to get out of the still moving vehicle. He throws altogether too much money towards the front seat before taking off like the car is on fire. 

Charlie watches him go inside before leaving the excess cash in the mailbox by the front door with a note. Yeah, sometimes being a cab driver sucks.

…But sometimes you drive a drunk guy home and he spends the whole time talking about how excited he is to see his husband—and your faith in humanity is restored. 

teacher!au: covid19 edition

dean is a history teacher. he spends all his free time right now filming lectures on all the upcoming topics. he has visuals, he has costumes (ofc he has costumes), he does terrible accents, he has little models and legos that he uses to recreate battles and other famous historical moments. he has video sessions with his students where he pretends to be a historical figure and they ask him questions, or they have animated debates.

his students liked being in his physical classroom bc of his charisma and how pretty he is, but they love these videos bc they’re just SO FUCKING HILARIOUS. they spend too much time on his classwork and maybe neglect their other classes.

cas is a math teacher. his videos for students consist of meticulously worked out math problems on a whiteboard that may or may not actually be a shower. it looks like a shower… but cas chooses the exact angle that makes it impossible to see any proof that it is. 

he also continues to wear his button down shirts and sweater vests and ties, and his students take bets on whether or not he’s actually wearing pants bc the videos very carefully do not show him below the waist. coincidence??? well yeah probably but MAYBE!!

he has video office hours where he’s sitting at his computer, quietly reading a book, and students can pop in to ask questions or just chat. he’s a good listener, and he finds many students just stop by to say hi or show him their cat or their new painting or maybe the bike jump they set up in their backyard. 

the really tricky thing is… well, they’ve kept their whole relationship thing a secret from the kids. and the other staff, for that matter. they want to keep their work and personal lives separate, which is currently impossible since dean’s taken over the living room for his videos and cas has taken over the bathroom “because it has better light, dean, and do you have an actual dry erase board hidden somewhere in this house that i don’t know about? bc if not, i have to use the shower”

it starts with small things. dean will ask students about things they don’t remember telling him. they told mr novak about their cat having kittens, they didn’t tell mr winchester. or cas will roll his eyes at what was supposed to be an inside joke about mr winchester’s last video conference with his AP US history kids, how would mr novak even know about it??

rumors run rampant, mostly deciding that the teachers are watching each other’s stuff. one student claims that mr novak and mr winchester are neighbors, she’s seen them on runs together through the nearby park. that is dismissed as a garbage rumor, everyone knows mr winchester hates running.

all rumors are settled when a sleepy, bed-head cas walks through one of dean’s video conferences. the living room is the only way to the kitchen, and HE NEEDS HIS COFFEE OKAY!? fuck the secrecy, fuck the cameras, he just needs caffeine, preferably injected intraveinously but he’ll accept it in coffee form if necessary. 

dean doesn’t even register this as strange. cas is going to get coffee, he’s seen this a million times. he just keeps going with his lesson, doesn’t acknowledge it, only starts to notice when the whole class is silent. 

“what? what’s going on? is my mic off?” dean asks in confusion. 

silence. until nervously one of the girls unmutes and timidly says, “i think mr novak just walked through your house…” 

and dean’s ears might go pink and he chokes on his words for a good thirty seconds before he mentally shrugs and decides he doesn’t give a shit. 

“well yeah, he lives here,” he says and then keeps going with the lecture.

there are A LOT of questions once dean’s done his presentation… and very few of them have to do with the lesson.

questions dean gets include but are not limited to: 

- are you and mr novak dating? (no)

- are you married? (yes)

- does he really film in the bathroom? (yes. we only have one bathroom. it’s very inconvenient.)

- does he wear pants when he films? (no but he wears shorts)

- how long have you been together? (since college. i’m not saying how long ago it was, you can do the math yourselves)

- why don’t you even act like you know each other at school? (when have you even seen us interact at school? we’re in different departments on opposite ends of the building on different floors.)

- why don’t you drive to work together? (because i get there early and cas- mr novak arrives later bc he stops to get coffee. i also don’t want to be seen in his car, have you seen that thing?)

- will you get him to be in your next video? (i’ll ask, but i usually do my videos in the morning before he gets up so not likely)

- will you be in his videos? (considering i don’t know much math except what i need to do your grades, no, no i don’t think he will. unless you did a petition. he might get on board if you do a petition.)

- you guys should do a tiktok together!!! (that’s not a question. and we have. don’t assume adults don’t have social media accounts, they just don’t tell you about them.)

- are you the reason mr novak can’t have a cat? (… why is he complaining to you guys about the cat thing? I’M ALLERGIC, geez)

the AU we all need✨

"We need to get back," Sam whistles, glancing in the direction of his brother and brother-in-law. "While I can still drive."

Dean squints and looks around himself.

Cas is completely drunk, blurry, and has his arm hooked around Dean's waist - and it doesn't seem like he's letting go just yet, so it's perfect. Dean can feel the heat through all his fucking layers; Cas is hot, and pressed up against Dean in this crowded-as-hell club.

(They're celebrating, and it sure feels like it.)

"Well, you're drivin', Sammy." Dean throws the keys into the air, sufficiently out of it himself to do it so badly that Sam actually has to put in an effort to catch them before they hit the sticky club floor. He adds a, "Let's get outta here, Cas." To the trenchcoated man wrapped around him, who doesn't really take notice.

"Of course I am - I literally just said that." Sam returns, the stablest of the three of them, as he leads the way out. Dean follows behind, keeping track of his brother's girly head above the crowd because he couldn't follow otherwise - and Cas just hitches a ride with him, latching on like it'd be risky to let go.

Dean loves it.

(Drunk Castiel is everything Dean had no idea he wanted Cas to be - well, sometimes, anyways. As the shots go in, out comes a flirty, clingy, and unbelievably possessive husband.)

"Get in the back with Cas." Sam tells him, when they get to the Impala, and Dean was going to do that anyways - because there's at least a ninety eight percent chance Cas falls asleep within five minutes of the car getting on the road, and Dean maybe likes it when he's doing it with his head snug on Dean's shoulder.

"And you take care of Baby." Dean throws back at Sam, force of habit, as he piles Cas in the backseat and gets in too.

"I'm your -" Cas suddenly starts, jolting awake and using his fingers to turn Dean's chin towards him. "Baby." He growls, cobalt blue eyes piercing.

"She's always been Baby." Dean cajoles, his face flushing with color. "You're my babe."

"Babe." Cas repeats, and fuck, Dean is way too turned on right now to be in the same car as his frigging brother.

"Sounds good?" Dean mutters, trying to pull away but Cas has got a hand around his neck now and it keeps him there - inches away from Cas's face.

"What else am I?" Cas asks, sultry, unwilling to let this go.

"Uh." Dean pauses, keeping his voice low. "Sweetheart. Honey?" Cas nods, approvingly, but apparently not satisfied yet. Dean turns his eyes to the ceiling, thinking. "Sunshine. Uh, angel - sometimes, I guess. Sugar, that too. And then there's times you're being so frigging adorable that you're like a huggy-bear? So that. And, you know, hot wings."

He keeps going, easily enough drunk to not notice he's rambling until he's come to an end.

"...and that's it, I guess. Oh, and you're hubby sometimes, when I know you're not listening."

"He isn't listening." Sam deadpans, and Dean goes to make a face at him before he realizes he's got Cas slumping over his shoulder already, face buried in Dean's flannel. "But hey, I was." Sam adds, turning his face to show off his smirk to his brother.

"Shut your face." Dean snaps, looking out the window. "And keep your eyes on the road."

"I've been driving for twenty years, jerk." Sam rolls his eyes. "But this is the first time I heard the words 'huggy bear' come out of my brother's mouth."

"...shuddup." Dean huffs, fresh out of comebacks. "Bitch."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam laughs. "Whatever you say, Cas's hubby."

Dean groans out loud in frustration, because Cas's prissy little 'what else am I' cameo pretty much gave Sam the edge in most other fights they'll ever have in the future.

But as long as he's got armfuls of his still-drunk Cas, snoring softly in Dean's neck, he thinks he'll live.

Fic Prompt:

Birdbath of the Lord. 

………….*shrug* (I dunno, don’t ask.) 

 ( Buy my a Ko-fi? | IG )

Cas isn’t really one for baths.

Over the years, Dean has gotten used to finding him in the bathroom with the shower door open, his wings held out of the spray and a puddle of water slowly collecting on the floor. Getting his wings wet is always a process for Cas—so many pounds of waterlogged feathers fucks up his back, drying them off properly takes forever, and once they’re finally dry again he always complains that he looks like a fluffy, newly-fledged chick.

Even if he doesn’t share Cas’s pain, Dean does understand it, so he’s more than happy to mop up the water and gently tease his angelic husband about it. But there are some days, when the world doesn’t require anything of them, that they’re free to spend their hours relaxing and doing as they wish.

And it’s on those days that Cas will set aside some time, let himself truly unwind, and have a bath.

He’s not shy about leaving the door open, and so whenever Dean passes the bathroom, he can’t help but take a moment to stand there and just admire Cas. The afternoon sun streaming through the windows, the muscles of Cas’s biceps where his arms are tucked up beneath his head, the wet sprawl of those beautiful wings. He’s relaxed and peaceful and stunning, and it’s times like these that Dean really wishes the bath is big enough for him and Cas and Cas’s wings, but it’s not, so he just lets himself watch.

Or, at least, he does, until the corner of Cas’s lips curves up into a tiny smile, and he slits one eye open. “Were you planning to just stand there all day?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that barely carries across to Dean in the still air.

“Nah, not all day. Jus’ thinkin’ about how much I’d love to be in there with you.” There’s a lazy drawl to Dean’s words that he knows Castiel loves, and they hang perfectly in the air between them on this relaxed Sunday, in this little pocket of time they’ve carved out just for them.

Cas lifts one of his wings a little, and there’s a look in his eyes that is amused and inviting but with an undercurrent of want that Dean is intimately familiar with. “I can make room,” he points out, and Dean can’t help but grin.

As it turns out, the bathtub is definitely not big enough for both of them, and a lot more water ends up on the floor than it does during Cas’s showers, but…

Funnily enough, neither of them can really bring themselves to care.

For the Love of the Game [deancas, 1.5k, T]

Summary:

Author’s notes: written in the 90 minutes it took to watch a soccer game at 1am.  I’m a sucker for athlete Dean and Cas.

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