Work Text:
The house is small, tucked away at the end of a winding dirt road that Dean and Castiel find by accident on a Sunday drive through the less-traveled roads in town. Its windows are boarded up, front yard littered with weeds, and the paint is peeled so badly that its color is nearly impossible to determine.
Dean isn’t sure what draws him to pull up the dusty drive and kill the engine on the Impala, but he does anyway. He and Castiel step out into the early afternoon sun, blinking as their eyes adjust to the bright light backdropped around them.
As Dean stares up at the house, he knows immediately that his fiancé will like it. Castiel loves old places like this, places with character and history cobwebbed in every corner.
"You wanna take a look?" Dean asks, his gaze falling on Castiel as the other man stares up at the house. Ever since they talked about having a place of their own, the two of them have been keeping their eyes open for something that may be of interest to them. This is the first place Dean’s felt any sort of intrigue drawing him in.
Castiel nods.
Dean leads the way around the back of the house first, no fences or locks to keep them out. A sprawling backyard greets them, a few wild trees growing here and there despite the neglect Dean’s sure they’ve experienced.
It’s a nice space for a garden, Dean notes.
To their left is a shed. It’s bigger than the one Dean’s using now, would offer room for more tools and projects to be worked on, and there are even shelves lining the walls that are ready to be used.
"You could do your work out here," Castiel points out, looking around the space.
Dean nods. “It’s big.”
They approach the front steps then, passing an old, barely there For Sale By Owner sign as they go. The phone number is only vaguely readable, and some of the letters in the owner’s name have long since faded away.
The house looks like it’s been abandoned for years. If the lack of upkeep in the front and backyards wasn’t testament enough, the outdated colors on the exterior and the creak of the steps as Dean and Castiel climb them to the front door definitely would be.
Dean picks the lock on the front door and pushes it open in a sticky swing, the door catching on the jamb before permitting them inside.
Inside there are two open rooms off to either side of the entryway, both lit by large, open windows that, despite the dust collected on their panes, still allow enough sunlight in to prevent them from having to find a light switch. Dean doubts the electricity is working anyhow.
"Bet this gets a lot of light in here when the place is cleaned up," Dean comments as he and Castiel walk around the room on the right side.
Castiel nods, “It would be good for painting.”
Directly in front of them is a kitchen and dining area. It’s on the smaller side, but it’s bigger than what they’ve got now. A shrill of excitement trickles through Dean as he visualizes him and Castiel making breakfast together in the space.
This is our kitchen, Dean thinks. He isn’t sure where the thought comes from; he only meant for them to snoop around the old place, not to get attached to it almost immediately, but for some reason he knows, without even having seen the entirety of the house, this is going to be his and Castiel’s first home together.
Just off the dining room is a den-like space. It’s tucked up against the right side of the house and falls underneath the staircase giving it a dark closed in feeling. It’s perfect for holing up in and watching endless amounts of television and movies. There’s even a half bath on the right side of the room and a full, mantled fireplace on the left, which Castiel runs his fingers over appreciatively.
They move quietly through the house, Dean’s boots falling on the creaky wooden floors, until he’s leading the way up the stairs to the second floor where there are two bedrooms, one on the left side of the hall, the other on the right.
The one on the right is smaller, a modest sized closet being the only source of excitement in the room, but there’s a full bathroom right next door that offers promise.
"I’ll bet all this flooring is the original wood," Castiel states as they walk across the hall and into the master bedroom.
Dean nods in agreement. Every floor in the house is covered in the wood, and though it’s old and needs some cleaning, it has a certain appeal.
The view from the windows in the master bedroom is picturesque. They can see the whole drive they came in and just beyond it to where rows and rows of fields rest, the neat lines made in the dirt visible from where Dean and Castiel stand.
In the master bathroom, there’s a large, clawed bathtub. When Dean sees it, he climbs inside and tugs Castiel in with him, helping Castiel settle his back against Dean’s chest and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist. It’s no Jacuzzi tub, but it’s big enough for the both of them and that’s good enough for Dean.
“Great tub,” Dean mutters between the light kisses he’s pressing in to Castiel’s neck.
Castiel slots his fingers between Dean’s where they rest around Cas’ waist and allows his weight to sink against Dean. “I like this house, Dean.”
"I figured you would."
"It has character," Castiel offers.
"It’s gonna need a ton of repairs. We’ll have to paint the walls, refurbish the cabinets in the kitchen, probably update the plumbing…" Dean doesn’t say these things to discourage Castiel; he knows the other man is probably aware of what might need to be done, but he feels like it’s important to point out the house’s flaws nonetheless.
"I know," Castiel states, tilting his head until Dean’s lips can close over his. "But I want to build a home with you, something that is ours. This could be that home."
Dean smiles softly, knowing Castiel is right, and a silence settles around them, warm and easy like a light blanket.
"You wanna call the owner?" Dean finally asks.
Castiel offers Dean a wide grin. “Yes.”
~
It takes about a week to finalize everything. The owner - an older man named Rufus Turner - gives it to them for a fair price, long since given up on turning the property for profit.
After some coaxing, the bank approves their loan, offering enough to purchase the house and have some money left over for repairs. By the time it’s all said and done, Dean doesn’t want to sign anotherpiece of paper for as long as he lives.
Their lease agreement for their current apartment isn’t up until the end of the year, but Dean figures the house won’t be move-in ready until then anyway. Regardless, they decide to spend their first night as official homeowners in their new house.
They haul a king-size air mattress and their bedding over to the house as well as a bottle of cheap wine and some paper cups.
They stop for takeout on the way and dine on the dusty floorboards, surrounded by flickering candles in the waning summer sunlight that still peeks through the dusty windows of the house.
As they eat, Dean and Castiel talk about what they want to do to the house, improvements they want to make, changes they want to implement. They talk about wall colors and tiling options for the upstairs bathrooms, and by the time dinner is finished and they’ve drank their way through bottle of wine, Dean’s getting that happy, floaty feeling that comes when his blood alcohol level is teetering between buzzed and drunk. He can’t stop smiling at Castiel, drinking in the way the other man looks bathed in the flickering orange light of the candles, seated on the floor in their brand new home, and Castiel smiles right back.
They pull the air mattress upstairs and set it up in the master bedroom, having just enough light from the bright, silvery moon to be able to see what they’re doing. Their movements are fumbly, clumsy from nearly too much alcohol, and as they climb into bed, Dean’s got a big grin on his face.
This is their house now. Their house. His and Castiel’s.
As they settle, Dean pulls Castiel against his chest and presses a kiss into his fiancé’s unruly hair. He can already feel himself slipping, his belly full with food and warm with alcohol, Castiel tangled around him, and as his eyelids droop he lets out a sigh.
"Welcome home, Cas," Dean mutters as he’s drifting off to sleep.
Castiel kisses Dean’s lips. “Welcome home, Dean.”