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If Dean is being honest, he's never really given much thought about the type of home he'd want for himself.
When he was younger, he had dreamed about going back to Lawrence and their old neighborhood, but had quickly quashed that notion when he realized his mom wasn't ever coming back. It wouldn't have been home anymore without her. And he’d never get the smell of thick, cloying smoke out of his nostrils.
And sure, the bunker had been a nice place to plant some roots, in terms of defensibility and utility. A good place for a hunter. Not so great when one thought in terms of retirement and family and contentment.
Bobby's house wasn't a home without the man that had been like a father to him. That was really all Dean had to say on the matter of the salvage yard and the house that came with it.
The Impala had probably come the closest to being his home. It was there he'd learned that home was his brother and the time they spent together. And for a long time, that had been enough. But then Sam had left, his dad hadn't even really ever been around in the first place, and Dean had been on his own.
His joke to Cas about opening up a B&B had probably been the closest he’d come to admitting what he really wanted. A place where hunters were welcome and could relax without the imminent threat of a monster attack. A place for information on the big bads as well as a supply depot for the harder to get weapons and spell ingredients.
A permanent residence where he could wake up in the same bed every morning with the same person. They’d have a room with a view of the mountains and a lake. And his family would be close by, or at least would visit often, and everyone would be safe .
So no, Dean has not thought much about what kind of home he'd like to build for himself, if he were given the chance. Except, he kind of has, but he’s never let himself dare dream that he could actually have it.
But now, as he gazes down at the dark head of messy hair that's resting on his shoulder, he finds himself yearning for a home for himself for the first time since he was five. A place to call his own with the angel he loves. Where they can make their own routines and memories together.
And, also, a place where they can have sex without worrying about someone walking by at an inopportune moment.
Dean loves having his mom and brother and Eileen- he’s still working on being okay with John- nearby, where he can absorb their presence and be part of the family he never got as a child. He’s grateful for the chance to spend time with them. But over the last month he’s been wishing more and more for some quality alone time with Cas.
Not that they’ve been living like saints the entire time. Dean has definitely been jumping on every opportunity to get Cas out of his trench coat, but it would be nice to do it without the slight tension of someone potentially interrupting them mid-coitus.
Mostly because the potential has become the reality several times already. And the opportunities have already been somewhat slim due to Cas flying around Heaven for long stretches of time to patrol for rogue shadow-angels. In the last month since the tear between Heaven and the Empty had been stitched closed, Cas has already recovered several angels, including Uriel from the middle of the onion field down the road and Heaven’s cutest angel, Samandriel, along the river.
He knows Cas is doing important work. More angels in Heaven mean greater stability for the place overall, which can only be to the good for everyone currently residing here. It also means Jack has to expend less effort at maintaining the equilibrium of the place as the burden is naturally shared amongst the angels. Or so Cas has explained to him several times now.
It’s not just Cas out there, though. Hunters who have gotten bored of their perfect lives have taken up the call to find and capture, when possible, the shadow-angels. The human souls had a natural ability to sense the alterations in the universe that the shadows leave behind in their wake, which makes the human hunters indispensable in tracking the shadows down before they hurt someone.
And they were hurting people. Or, at least, anyone that had come in contact with them has disappeared. Before Jack and Cas had realized what was going on, hundreds of souls had gone missing from Heaven. Why and where to, neither of them have been able to figure out; all Jack could say was that he wasn’t able feel them anymore. They were just gone. Like they never existed.
It creeps Dean out if he thinks about it too much. He would much rather be out there doing something about it instead.
The head on his shoulder moves, soft hair tickling his jaw as Cas shifts. He cards the fingers of the hand not trapped underneath the angel through the dark strands. "You awake?" He rumbles softly.
"Mm," Cas hums, sounding not quite cognizant. "What were you thinking about?"
Dean presses his lips against the top of his head, hiding a smile. "Who says I was thinking about anything?"
"Could hear you," Cas replies, and then tilts his head up for a kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark and serious. "Something about a home?"
He cups his hand against the angel's cheek. "Just thinking it would be nice if we had our own place." He slides his other hand down low on Cas' back. "Wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted anymore."
Cas frowns at him, not taking the bait. Dean hadn't really thought he would. "It must have been more serious than that or I wouldn't have heard it."
Dean sighs and drops his head back onto his pillow to stare up at the ceiling. Cas can't actually read his mind, but if Dean thinks about him seriously enough he gets vague impressions of the hunter's thoughts. It was useful when he needed help wrangling a shadow, but could be damned inconvenient otherwise.
"I was just…" he starts, not really sure how to explain his thoughts to his angel. "I was just thinking about how I've never really had a home since I was four."
At the admission, Cas pushes himself up onto his elbow, brow furrowed with concern. "Dean-"
Quickly, Dean places a finger over the angel's lips, shushing him. "I know. Home isn't a place; it's people." He takes his finger away from the plush mouth. "But…" he sighs again, closing his eyes against Cas' dark blue stare, unsure of how to continue.
"But it would be nice if there was a place where you could always return to where you could be sure of your welcome?" Cas continues to frown down at him. "Your childhood home does not fulfill this need?"
Sometimes it amazes and terrifies Dean how well Cas knows him. How well he could read him, even without the freaky angel powers.
"No," he admits quietly. He circles his arms around the angel's waist, pulling Cas tighter against him. "It doesn't."
"Then, what would?"
And there was the question Dean has been trying to answer by himself for days. "I don't know," he answers in the same soft voice as before. "I've been trying to figure it out for a while now, but all I come up with are different versions of places I've lived."
Cas nestles back into his spot along Dean's side. "None of them feel right?"
"No."
There is something hesitant in Cas' voice when he asks his next question. "Do you have any ideas of the things you would want in your home?"
"You," Dean answers immediately. He feels Cas' pleased smile against the skin of his chest. "Room enough for people to stay over for when they visit, but not so many rooms that it becomes a mansion. Whatever you want that would make you happy." He strokes a hand down the smooth skin of the angel's side letting it rest on the curve of a bare hip. "I know you've always wanted to keep bees."
He feels a kiss placed gently over his right pectoral, and then the curve of his shoulder, and then Cas is shifting to follow his neck up to the line of his jaw, peppering kisses along the way. At the corner of Dean's mouth, he stops. "Perhaps, instead of thinking about what your perfect home would be," he murmurs against Dean's lips, "we should be thinking about our perfect home."
And that is when Dean realizes what his trouble has been. He's been trying to do what he's always done before; shoulder the burden by himself. But he isn't by himself. He has Cas. And Cas doesn't need him to plan out every little detail. Cas doesn't need him to be perfect, and in fact, loves Dean even though he isn't. Cas loves Dean for every one of his flaws, not despite them.
Suddenly breathless, he reaches up, threading his fingers through that soft hair and pulls Cas down into a thorough kiss. He puts all of his love into the gentle pressure of his lips against the angel's and all of his admiration for the being above him into the soft sweep of his tongue against the seam of his mouth.
Soon, too soon, Cas pulls away, panting slightly from the fervor of the kiss. "Does that mean I get to help build the house now?" He smirks at Dean and lightly runs his fingers down the center of Dean's chest.
"Yeah," Dean says, before rolling them over and kissing his angel some more.