Chapter Text
Dean steps back, angling his head as though that’ll give him a better idea of whether the painting of crocuses looks right. Cas hasn’t slept in his own bed in the Bunker in months, not since he vanished overnight, but Dean wants the dude to know he’ll have his own space. When he comes back, that is.
Because Cas is coming back. He’s said so. He just hasn’t said when.
Maybe the painting would look better on the other wall. It turns out Cas really likes flowers, something Dean kind of knew but didn’t have as clear in his mind before they started speaking so much about things that had nothing to do with cases. And when Cas calls to say he’s on his way, Dean can run out and get some fresh flowers, so the place smells good, too.
In the meantime, he steps back and pulls out his phone. He’ll send Cas a photo, so the guy can say if he likes the painting where it is.
He’s just sending the photo when he hears the outside door clang shut, and he wanders out in that direction as he waits to see the symbol on his phone say Cas has picked up the message. Cas keeps his phone charged and turned on these days. Not that Dean has to worry Cas has left sooty wingprints over the walls of some warehouse. Not anymore. No, he has four people who’ll send Dean messages if needs be. Gertrude mostly asks him to fish out another book to send her if Sam hasn’t answered quickly enough, but it’s still a line of communication.
Jody suggested they set up a group chat. Dean snorted and told her she’d been spending too much time around Claire before changing the subject. But if Val could stop taking all the best jokes whenever one of the others says something funny, that’d be great. She beat him to a Batman joke three days ago, and Dean still isn’t over it.
“Hey, Sam, did you get that honey I want…ed…”
He draws to a halt, staring.
At the bottom of the stairs, Cas stands, a duffel bag in hand and his hair looking like someone gave him some advice on product. The clothes don’t hurt, either - bless whoever talked Cas into the deep blue shirt and black jeans.
“Hello,” Cas says. “I, er, didn’t know you wanted any honey.”
Dean is on the verge of making some corny joke about Cas being all the sweetness he needs, but thankfully Cas holds up his phone before Dean can, and smiles.
“I did just get the photo. I like the crocuses.”
“Yeah?” Dean’s mouth is dry, and he can’t understand why. “You sure they look right on that side of the room? Because I can move them. Want you to be comfortable when you visit.”
“Oh,” Cas says, and drops the bag on the floor. “I thought, maybe, I wouldn’t come to visit.”
Dean lifts his eyebrows.
“Not to call you a liar, Cas, but you’re here. Bag and everything.”
“Yeah,” Cas says, and he’s a lot closer without Dean realizing. He meets Dean’s gaze, and there’s something like fear there, but that’s been lurking in Cas’ eyes for years, ever since his sense of his rightful place was shaken. Now, there’s also a stronger impression of hope, of something Dean might even call close to peace. It’s a good look. “But I thought I’d stay. For good. If that’s all right with you.”
“I think I can get on board with that,” Dean says.
They leave the bag on the floor. They’ll have plenty of time to sort it out later, and Dean really does want to show Cas what his room is like now. They can settle whether or not Cas will actually use the room later. For now, they have other things to catch up on, and they’ve wasted more than enough time. Cas is here, and present, looking like he’s pleased about that, and Dean is going to make sure Cas knows how glad he is about it too.
The End