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“I just don’t see the point, babe. What do we have to prove to this Brady Bunch neighborhood?” Dean groused, plunking down on the battered couch beside his husband.
“We aren’t proving anything, and everyone already RSVP’d. People are going to start coming in a few hours,”
The back of Dean’s head hit the couch while he groaned up at the ceiling. Cas reached over and patted the swell of his belly, “I’d get some clothes on, if I were you.”
Cas, of course, was already dressed and waiting on his veggie kebabs to marinate.
Begrudgingly, Dean trudged up to their bedroom to change out of his PJs (which were just boxers and a robe) and into some semi-nice clothes. He wasn’t happy about being forced into a social event, but he hadn’t seen Sam or Eileen in forever, and it might be a good idea for them to have some friends outside of their family. Maybe.
Regardless, he went with one of his less-stained pairs of jeans and an olive-green henley that Cas claimed “brings out his eyes”, or whatever. He even went so far as sweeping his bedhead into something a little more tamed to look less like a grizzly bear.
He would look nice, but he wouldn’t be happy about it.
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Dean surveyed the yard. It might not be Architectural Digest-worthy (though Cas seemed hellbent on changing that ), but it was theirs. As usual, his eyes were drawn to the fledgling garden Cas devoted himself to in his free time - which, as it turned out, was all the time now.
He’d been trying to get better at remembering the names of all the flowers they have so he doesn’t wear his poor husband’s patience any thinner - No, Dean, those ones are the blanket flowers. The heleniums are much taller.
To be fair, they looked pretty damn similar, but Dean made a mental note regardless. Heleniums are taller. Heleniums are taller. Heleniums are taller.
The doorbell rang and Dean heard Cas greeting Sam and Eileen; of course, they were here early. Eileen would help Cas with the cooking that didn’t involve a grill (because Dean reserved the title of “meat man” and “grill master”) and Sam would snoop around their house and annoy him. Probably complain about them using the wrong kind of lettuce in the salad.
He went to greet them too, gleefully signing a hey, kid, how are you? and pulling Eileen in for a hug. She pulled away with a smile,
Excited to see the grill daddy at work .
Dean scowled at Cas, who had already pulled Sam aside to show him the vegetable garden. Cas tossed him a look over his shoulder and shrugged sheepishly. Dean ushered Eileen into the kitchen and haltingly signed if she would like a drink.
Too early to bust out the booze? She signed with a flashing grin and, God, did Dean love his sister-in-law.
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After an hour or so spent making sure everything was ready, the doorbell rang again. Dean shot a final look at Cas that said “It’s not too late, we can tell them to go away!” Cas only rolled his eyes and sighed with fond exasperation as he made his way towards the door.
It only took around twenty minutes for everyone invited to show up, kids and side dishes in tow. Cas — ever the charmer — greeted them with ease and began showing those interested their nearly-finished kitchen.
“I’ve been telling Dean we could just call someone, but he insists on building the cabinets from scratch,” he said affectionately.
While Cas handled the brunt of the social interaction, Dean dragged Sam outside to help set up the buffet-style table adorned with casseroles, pasta dishes and salads while Dean went to get the grill fired up. He assigned Eileen with babysitting duties, only because she couldn’t be annoyed by their inhumane screeching and he knew they were trying — might as well give them a little field practice. He had to move the booze to their garage because Claire kept trying to sneak some and always had one eye glued on the kid, who was sitting over by the flowerbed with her head in Kaia’s lap.
Guests filtered through the screen door in a steady trickle, making small talk and admiring their garden while Cas showed off his tomato and zucchini plants — his pride and joy, though he claimed to love all his plants equally. Dean mostly kept off to the side, there were burgers and tenderloins and hotdogs to be cooked and he took his work seriously. Every piece of meat that left the grate was perfectly cooked and sporting impressive char marks, Dean couldn’t be more proud.
He was content to hover by his deluxe Burnhard grill which, next to Baby, was his most prized possession. And then he heard the sharp click-clack of heeled shoes come up from behind him and he froze, tongs pinching a piece of meat mid-flip.
“Well, hello there,” A feminine voice tittered, and then there was a flash of red hair and an elegantly dressed woman was standing beside him, one arm tucked around her ribs. She was, well, it could be best described as sneering at him as she eyed the grill and then his apron (he hoped). It had been a gag gift from Claire, a black apron with Mr. Good lookin’ Cookin’ emblazoned on the front in tacky font, flames and all. The joke on her was that he actually loved it and wore it all the time, much to her apparent dismay.
“Uh, hi. I’m Dean. The husband.” He greeted choppily, wiping a hand on the side of his apron before offering it. The woman took his hand between three fingers and shook it once, the disapproval on her face was very thinly veiled — if at all.
“Oh, I know. Your...husband mentioned you were quite the handyman and it shows ,” She purred, pawing at his bicep. He chuckled awkwardly and not so subtly jerked his arm away under the guise of adjusting his apron.
“Hah, yeah. I, um...hey, has Cas shown you his garden? It’s really …uhm...leafy. Babe! Babe, c’mere.” Dean waved Cas over, casting a sheepish side glance to the woman, who just looked unimpressed, “Um, I didn’t catch your name?”
“I’m Amy. Amy Bauer, my husband and I live a few doors down.” She said distractedly as Cas approached them, who immediately went to Dean’s side, arm curled around his waist.
“Hello, I don’t think we’ve been introduced properly. Cas,” Cas tilts his head and extends a hand. Amy did that sneer thing again, her lips curled back that time. She didn’t even take his hand, though, she just nodded.
“Amy.” She replied shortly and then turned her attention back to Dean.
“This is a lovely house you have. The interior is very homey.” She gushed, her demeanor did a full 180 and left Dean reeling. Cas stepped in.
“Thank you. Dean has a good eye for aesthetics, he also built the majority of our furniture,”
It was true, but holy shit, Cas sounded smug . More than that, he sounded...possessive. The arm around his waist tightened, and another hand was pressed against his side, fingers playing at the hem of his shirt.
Amy hummed and didn’t even afford Cas a glance in his direction.
“How lucky you two are, my husband didn’t lift a finger the second we placed a mortgage down on the house. Dean, you’ll have to come over and lend me your eye, my house is sinfully devoid of interior decoration,”
Cas’ hand slid under his shirt and Dean started. When the hell did Cas undo my apron ? Then he shifted when Cas started pawing at his side. And why is he feeling me up in front of this lady ?
He cleared his throat and unsuccessfully tried catching Cas’ attention to give him a “ what the hell are you doing ” look, but Cas was just glaring at the poor lady.
“Um. Nice to meet you, Amy, I better...uh, get back to this meat.”
Amy sighed and flashed him a smile and, wow, Dean had never really understood the phrase “sickly-sweet” but now he did, because that fake, red-lipped smile left him with cavities. She walked away without another word and Cas pulled away from him with a relieved exhale. Dean nudged him urgently.
“Sweetheart, what the hell was all that about?”
Cas shrugged his shoulders and cast a glance over his shoulder, only to find that Amy was nowhere to be seen.
“I didn’t like her. She was all over you, and you’re mine .”
Dean spluttered, a hot ribbon coiled in his stomach, choruses of “ fuck yeah, I’m yours ” ringing in his head. His throat clicked around a swallow and he nodded.
“Cas. We have company ,” He cleared his throat again, “...but yeah, she was weird.”
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Dean burnt the meat on the grill while he was being distracted by Amy and very nearly had a meltdown in front of their guests. He excused himself to the bathroom and did the stupid breathing exercises Cas had taught him that actually worked. The best one was the four-second inhale and six-second exhale, because counting and breathing were two things he could do at once. So, he calmed down and Cas was waiting for him with a beer.
“You’ll always be the grill daddy in my eyes,”
Dean pinched him on the hip with a glare. Cas responded with a suggestive, almost teasing eyebrow raise, but nothing more. From across the yard, Eileen waved her arms the way someone stranded on an island might wave towards a plane — wildly and with great desperation. Dean and Cas were concerned at first, but it quickly disappeared as their eyes lowered to the ground and saw the situation.
Sam was being used as a human playground, it seemed, and these kids were ruthless.
“Looks like they might need your help, babe,” Dean grinned as he watched Claire and, in turn, Kaia be drawn into the madness. “I’ll hold down the fort here,” He whispered, giving Cas an encouraging smack on the ass. He laughed when Cas relieved a terrified-looking Claire of a particularly energetic toddler who had his grubby fists tangled in her long hair. As soon as she was free, she bee-lined over to Dean with a frustrated sort of resignation.
“Rough day?” He grinned as Claire collapsed against the wall beside him with a sigh.
“Yeah, yeah; laugh it up, old man.” She grumbled, elbowing him in the ribs. He laughed and rubbed at the sore spot, gesturing out to the tangle of jeering children and scrambling adults. On the outskirts of the chaos sat Kaia with two little girls sitting around her, picking at grass and the wild daisies and weaving little chains with them.
“She’s good with kids.” He observed, trying to keep his tone neutral. Claire saw through it.
“Shut up.” She tried and failed to hide a smile.
“Just sayin’,” Dean shrugged, taking a sip of his blissfully cool beer, “let me know when to give her the speech.”
“‘The speech’?”
“Yeah. The ‘break-her-heart-and-I’ll-break-your-face’ speech. Someone’s gotta and Cas is way too nice. Don’t tell him I said that.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Dude. You’re not my dad,”
“No, but I am married to him. Now, go and charm some of these prissies and I’ll think about letting you have a beer.”
Claire groused about it under her breath but managed to strike up a conversation with a gaggle of said prissies that were gathered around the firepit. He regretted that decision almost immediately.
“Hey there, handsome.” A sultry voice crooned in his ear and he jumped, sloshing some of the contents of his beer out onto the pavement. He swore and held the dripping glass away from him, whipping around. Standing uncomfortably close to him was an older black lady in an ornate and sparkly blouse and the most purple lipstick he’d ever seen. Shit , how did she sneak up on him?
“Hey. I’m-”
“Dean. I know, you’re the husband.”
He shifted uncomfortably and debated on whether or not he should fake needing the bathroom. He didn’t. He also didn’t extend a hand, like he normally did, because he noticed two plates piled high with meat and sides clutched in her well-manicured hands. Mentally, he was letting out a low whistle, because there was a lot of food on those plates. If she was able to eat all that, he would be beyond impressed.
“I’m Jennifer. My friends call me Jen, but you can call me anytime,” She winked and Dean felt his stomach clench because, what the fuck is wrong with the people in this neighborhood . He smiled at her, it was pinched and probably looked more like a grimace than anything else.
“Nice to meet you, Jennifer,” He grit out.
“The pleasure is all mine, dollface,”
Suddenly, there was a warmth at his side, the faint scent of mothballs and cologne tickling at his nose. Apprehensively, he turned his head to find a man standing next to him. He was old, probably as old as Jennifer, with a fluffy white beard and hair to match. He, too, had a plate that was filled to the brim with food. Jennifer was currently eating — or rather, inhaling — her food. She was scooping mac ‘n’ cheese into her mouth with her hands and Dean barely reminded himself that staring was rude before he tore his surely horrified expression away.
He felt very caged in at that moment, Jennifer stood in front of him, balancing her untouched plate on her forearm while she dug into the other plate, there was the wall he was leaning against and then this other guy who was far too close for comfort.
“I’m Harry. That there’s my wife, Jenny. Good to meet ya, stud.” He smiled, the lines on his face became more pronounced. Dean had never really considered himself into old older guys — even though, technically, Cas was like, a billion years old. But Harry reached over to Jennifer’s plate to snatch a hotdog, and she growled at him as he added it to his still untouched plate. Dean was starting to get wildly uncomfortable, and he almost yelled when Harry clapped his ass and then lingered .
“She’s a feisty one, I’ll tell you that.” He chuckled, hands gliding up to rest at his lower back. Dean was still trying to be polite — for whatever reason, maybe shock — but Harry was insistent and Jennifer was scary. He removed Harry’s arm from behind him, eyes searching frantically for Cas. Harry grinned and moved in even closer.
“You too, huh? Stubborn, just how I like ‘em. Well, I’d love to see these two forces meet...up close and personal. Hey, where’s your husband? He’s a looker too,”
“Good question! Hey, Cas, come over here!” Dean shouted, and his voice was a few octaves higher than normal but he was desperate for salvation. Thankfully, Cas caught sight of them and made his way over. Dean immediately stepped forward to tuck him into his side.
“Hey, babe. Say hi to Jennifer and Harry.” His smile was stale and forced, grip tight on his husband. Cas introduced himself while his hand crawled across his lower back, coming to curl at his hip. He dug his hand into the soft flesh there, to the point where it was almost painful, but Dean didn’t think much of it. They continued chatting, the poorly disguised innuendos Harry tossed out while Jennifer went back and forth between the buffet table seemed to go completely over Cas’ head, whose hands were fully up Dean’s shirt again , he had pressed himself against Dean from behind, chin tucked over his shoulder, hands gripping his love handles. Well, kneading was a more accurate description.
Normally, Dean wouldn’t mind it. The opposite, in fact — but it tickled and Dean was worried because Cas was being weird . That is to say, weirder than normal. Cas was always publicly affectionate, sure — touchy, even — but never like this. Never with his hands up Dean’s shirt right in front of guests, and then he was kissing Dean’s neck which quickly escalated into french kissing...his neck. He squirmed and felt a flush rise on his neck as Harry rattled on like nothing was amiss and Jennifer was licking her plate clean. He leaned his head back to catch Cas’ attention.
“What are you doing?” He murmured into his preoccupied husband’s ear. Cas let up for a moment, didn’t even look at Dean before he leaned in to bite the side of Dean’s newly outstretched throat.
He sucked in a sharp breath stepped away from Cas’ embrace, giving him a dirty side look that didn’t really hold any heat.
“Excuse us, please,” he said, tugging his husband (who was still trying to cling on to him) off to the side. He pulled them inside and Cas managed to unbutton the neck of his henley entirely, tugging the fabric down his collarbone so hard Dean was afraid it would rip.
“Look at you; delicious,” Cas growled and started gnawing on the juncture of his neck. He managed to pry Cas off, holding him an arms-length away with a grip on both his shoulders.
“ Castiel . You knock that shit off right now, there are people , and that hurts in a not-sexy way. Don’t do it.” Dean shook him a little just to emphasize his point. Cas blinked and looked up at Dean with wide eyes.
“Yeah. Yes, um, I got ahead of myself. Sorry.”
Dean’s shoulders slumped in relief and he offered his meek-looking husband a crooked smile. “‘S’okay, babe. I know I’m irresistible, just try to keep it in your pants until the guests clear out, huh?”
Cas rolled his eyes and Dean leaned in but kissed him on the cheek, which Cas scowled at.
“For your own good,” He announced at his husband’s disappointed pout.
“You’re banished to the grill. You still need to grill the kebabs Eileen and I made,” Cas glared and then poked a threatening index finger into Dean’s chest (that was still exposed) “if you burn them, you’re sleeping on the couch.”
Dean booped him on the nose but heeded his threat. He took the platter from the kitchen counter and brought it out to the patio, setting it aside while he re-lit the grill.
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Dean had felt eyes on him for a while now, but he couldn’t tell whose. With the way tonight’s been going, it could have been anyone. He knew he was damn near irresistible, but he was starting to feel like a slab of meat in a tiger’s cage. Speaking of meat…
He flipped the previously abandoned burgers and added some of the colorful veggie kebabs to the grate before his preoccupied mind was the source of another grill mishap — a serious blow to his pride. The hot dogs weren’t quite ready yet, so he resigned to simply standing and observing the activity around him. Cas was diligently guarding his garden against hell-raising kids while Sam and Eileen took a breather on the side, drinks in hand. After doing a sweep of the place, his eyes met those of a fairly large, well-built man in a yellow shirt. It didn’t take long to realize this guy was the one who had been staring earlier. Much to Dean’s dismay, it seemed like he took the reciprocated eye contact as an invitation to come on over.
No...please don’t be a creep please don’t be a cr- “Heeeey,” Dean half-spoke, half-groaned as the man (creep? weirdo? verdict was still out) reached the grill at a speed Dean was more than uncomfortable with. They stood in silence for a minute while the man made no efforts to hide the fact that he was checking every inch of Dean out.
“I’m, uh. I’m Dean,” he said, masking his hesitance as best he could as he offered a hand out. The man all but pawed for it, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.
“Richard,” the man said, his voice riddled with sensuality. “But you ?” he whispered, his eyes dropping to below Dean’s belt, “ you can call me Dick.”
Paralyzed by something akin to fear, Dean felt his mouth move but no words came out. Luckily ( or unluckily , Dean thought, given his equally strange behavior recently), Cas saw what was happening and made his way towards the two. His unassuming neutral face immediately transformed into something Dean over time came to recognize as his “bedroom face” when he grew closer. Already imagining the worst possible outcomes, Dean started talking in an attempt to veer this interaction in the complete opposite way it seemed to be going.
“Cas! Honey, I was just about to-'' he was interrupted by a firm hand gripping his upper thigh - something which under literally any other circumstance he would be extremely pleased about. However, if recent events were any indication, it would turn downright filthy in about two seconds.
And it did. Dean was ambushed on both sides — Cas attacked his left jaw with desperate, smothering kisses and Richard — Dick — was on his right, hands exploring every available inch of Dean’s chest, back and…
“ASS!” Dean cried out as he jumped back, kicking the grill in the process. Apparently, everyone had taken notice of the sudden noise as it grew relatively quiet and Sam cocked his head to the side, his way of asking, What the hell was that? Dean shrugged slightly and shakily jerked his head towards the grill, his way of saying, Keep an eye on her for a bit . Sam nodded as Dean placed his hand on Cas’ back and began walking towards the house.
“Cas, what the hell’s going on with y-” was all he managed to get out before he was shoved against the wall with much more force than Cas normally used. Cas’ hands frantically grasped for the bottom of his henley in an attempt to yank it off while his mouth was practically glued to Dean’s. While he couldn’t deny his appreciation for Cas’ enthusiasm, they were still mere feet away from the neighbors he thought they were trying to impress. Acting quickly, Dean grabbed Cas by the wrists and separated their lips. “ Cas , would you cut it out? Please?” The words seemed to finally reach him, and Cas took a small step back as the hunger gradually left his eyes.
“I...I’m sorry,” he said as he blinked slowly. Dean loosened his grip and Cas brought his hands to his sides. “I’m not sure what came over me.”
“Well, let’s not go that far. I’m a hot piece. It’s only natural you can’t control yourself sometimes,” Dean said smugly. Cas rolled his eyes and walked back outside with Dean trailing a few steps behind.
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As soon as they were well into the yard again, Claire and Kaia waved Cas over to help wrangle the horde of children who somehow still had energy. Dean let out an empathetic sigh and eyed his grill. Sam was damn smart, but he didn’t know the first thing about cooking meat. He lifted the lid hesitantly to make sure nothing was horribly charred yet, but that was the extent of his abilities. Standing beside Sam was a pretty lanky guy with a fluffy mop of hair holding a plate of food and a beer. On his way over, Dean silently begged that this guy would be normal. Judging by the way he and Sam seemed to be carrying a conversation (no screaming, no uncomfortable touching, hell, no touching PERIOD), he just might be the most normal guy here.
“I can take it from here, Sammy,” Dean said as he slapped him twice on the back. Sam groaned in slight annoyance at the nickname and headed back to Eileen after saying bye to the tall guy. Once Dean had given the grill a once-over, he turned his attention to the guest.
“Name’s Dean,” he said, offering a hand out.
“Jim,” the man said as he accepted the offer and shook with a firm grasp. So far so good. He sipped his beer as Dean put a few more steaks on the rack. Desperate to fill the awkward gap of silence, Dean said the first thing that came to mind as his gaze instinctively went to Cas, who seemed to be acting as a referee for whatever game the kids made up.
“These kids sure got a lotta energy, huh?” Dean said lightheartedly. Jim’s face soured, but only slightly.
“They’re irritating,” Jim snapped. The sudden shift in energy threw Dean off momentarily, but he was nothing if not a man able to adapt.
Alright, he doesn’t like kids , Dean thought. Totally normal thing for some people. He threw Jim a quick nod accompanied by an understanding smile so that he didn’t rock the boat any further. He figured maybe the awkward silence wouldn’t be the worst thing to endure here.
He only lasted thirty seconds before he started getting antsy and began whistling that annoying Taylor Swift song he totally didn’t listen to every day. He barely got to the chorus before Jim slammed his beer down.
“That’s enough of that, don’t you think?” he asked, but it really didn’t sound like a question. Dean froze out of shock, mostly, and quickly weighed the pros and cons of kicking this dude’s ass then and there. Pro, he’d learn not to be such an impolite asshole pretty quick. Con, he really didn’t want everyone to remember him as the short-tempered neighbor who solved every problem with his fists. Also, Cas would not be happy, and that would unravel a whole other web of cons. Sucking in a breath, Dean decided to grin and bear it.
The silence lasted slightly longer this time, but the sound of the children playing seemed to remain enough of an annoyance to Jim. The hands that held his now empty plate were shaking and his eyes were like daggers, fixed on one particularly rowdy kid kicking a ball around. Dean sensed another outburst approaching, so he offered the one thing that couldn’t possibly piss anyone off.
“Want another burger?”
The fire from Jim’s eyes diminished slightly as he turned towards the sizzling meat. Dean didn’t want to risk pissing him off any more, so he grabbed a patty from the grill and put it in a bun, then gestured subtly that he could take it if he wanted. Jim squinted but began to reach towards it. His face softened somewhat as his fingers curled around the bun, then he began to bring it towards himself. Dean hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, but he let out a relieved sigh.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the kids send the soccer ball sailing right towards them. Everything was suddenly in slow motion as he stood and watched it grow closer and closer, unable to do anything about it. His stomach sank when the ball smacked Jim right in the face, smashing the burger all over and leaving a mess of ketchup and grease.
For the first time since the guests arrived, the yard went completely silent. A stream of apologies burst from the kid’s mouth as Jim stood completely still, seemingly absorbing none of them.
Nobody moved in those seconds that felt like hours. Nobody until Jim, who dropped his plate and began sprinting towards the poor kid. Dean, with years of chasing evil shit under his belt, was on him in a matter of seconds and tackled him to the ground before he could even touch the kid.
Everyone watched in horror as Dean tried and failed to pin Jim to the ground. After a few moments of desperate swinging and Dean getting a few hits in, Cas’ voice boomed and stilled the two men.
“Get up. NOW,” he demanded. Jim and Dean both scrambled to their feet. Dean smirked to himself as he imagined the absolute hellfire his husband was about to rain down on this asshole. To his surprise, though, Cas completely ignored Jim and started tearing him a new one.
“Dean, that is no way to treat a guest,” he seethed. Dean had rarely seen him this livid. He looked around to see if everyone was still watching. Some had started up conversations again while others seemed to be getting ready to leave. Fair enough.
“Cas…”
“No, Dean,” Cas roared. “Apologize NOW.” Dean scrunched his face in confusion and pointed desperately at Jim.
“But this guy’s been a complete asshole the whole time I’ve seen him! He almost took down a damn kid , Cas!”
Jim’s face lit up with fury when he heard Dean.
“Maybe if you hadn’t invited these slimy fucking brats none of this would have happened! Your burgers taste like shit, too, you know. And your kitchen cabinets look so fucking stupid. I hope you know that, you incompetent fuck,” Jim went on and on, his rage only growing stronger. Not too long after, Cas had joined in. Dean was being attacked from both sides now, harsh words hitting him at the speed of light.
“Do you want our neighbors to think we’re animals ?”
“That is the ugliest fucking shirt I’ve ever seen.”
“ Melanie’s husband helps her in the garden once a while, you know.”
He could take some wiseass remarks from some random jerk, but Cas joining in was too much.
“ENOUGH!” Dean screamed. Now it was Cas’ turn to be shocked into silence. His steely face turned soft, changing his entire demeanor. Jim, however, was still going.
“And I wasn’t even gonna say this, but you’d think a pair of old queens like yourselves would have much better taste-”
Jim was knocked out cold on the ground in a flash. Dean’s mouth hung open as he stared in awe at his husband, who had, quite frankly, knocked the shit out of the prick. Dean didn’t have to check to know that almost everyone was grabbing their kids and getting the hell out of there this time. Cas seemed to be back to normal, whatever that meant any more. His eyes finally met Dean’s and the most explanation he offered was a one-shouldered shrug.
“Should we, uh,” Dean jerked his head towards Jim. Cas nodded silently.
“I’ll get his feet.”
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The majority of guests seemed to have left by then, so Dean took the chance to grab a plate and go see his brother, who was talking to someone Dean didn’t recognize by the cluster of patio furniture. He made brief introductions, shaking the other man’s hand, who really just let his arm hang limply from where their hands met — he had a pretty impressive beard and was wearing a bright orange tracksuit, and was reclined in his seat to the point where Dean could barely tell where he ended and the chair began. His name was Donald, and he talked like he was stoned out of his mind. He looked half asleep.
Dean sat down on a wicker armchair and dug into his cheeseburger and myriad of side dishes - working over the grill had worked him up an appetite. Sammy and Donald continued to talk — though, Sam did most of the talking. He was rattling off about something called ‘cricket’, which was an insect , as far as Dean was concerned, and had nothing to do with bats.
He tuned out his brothers rambling and jumped out of his seat when he saw Charlie wandering out onto the patio, drawing the bubbly ginger into a bear hug.
“You’re late,” He grumbled, giving her one last squeeze before pulling away. She grinned and held up a case of hard lemonade.
“I brought booze. Truce?”
Dean took the cardboard handle that she offered and smacked a kiss on the crown of her head.
“You’re forgiven.” He conceded, popping the lid of the cooler to bury the lukewarm bottles in half-melted ice.
Dean took his seat back and Charlie sat in the woven chair beside him, they caught up and Dean was reminded that he had given Charlie a spare key. He was honestly surprised she hadn’t used it before now.
“What, so I can steal your guys’ bell peppers?” Charlie rolled her eyes and Dean realized he’d been thinking out loud.
“Not to steal , I know you only do that from the government, but just cause some general chaos.”
Charlie ate her next words and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You better watch it, handmaiden. I know how to hack into your iCloud.”
Dean clapped a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically.
“Red, not the cloud!”
He barely knew what iCloud even was. It didn’t sound like something he wanted hacked, though.
Charlie nodded gravely. “Yes, Deanie; the cloud. Unless you go LARPing with me next month, there’s gonna be a giant 4th of July event. Think...fireworks and whole grilled turkey legs.”
“Red, you had me at turkey legs. Gotta check with the Boss Man first, though,”
“Turkey legs was the last thing I s-”
“Hey, speak of the devil! Heya, sunshine.” Dean beamed up at his husband, who had seen Charlie and come over to say hi.
“It’s good to see you, Charlie,” Cas smiled while Charlie bounded over to hug him.
“Good to see you, too, feathers,” Charlie said and returned to her previous spot. Dean noticed that the conversation (a term used lightly, since it was mostly just Sam monologuing at the poor guy) between Sam and Donald had lulled so he made introductions.
“Hey, Cas. This is Donald.”
It was more out of courtesy than anything else. They shook hands, and Donald’s arm was limp in Cas’ grip too. Weird. When they pulled away, Sam and Charlie had already jumped into a heated discussion about the latest episode of Game of Thrones. A dragonfly buzzing around distracted him, and then there was a weight settling across his lap. He startled and looked back to see Cas climbing on top of him, in a chair that was really designed for one person. Cas was determined, throwing his legs over the arm while he curled against Dean’s chest, head resting in the crook of Dean’s neck.
“Uh...Cas?”
The only response he received was a lethargic hum. He shifted under the considerable weight of a grown man sitting on him.
“What are you doing, babe?” He murmured into his husband’s ear, the unruly mess of hair tickled at his jaw.
“Shhh, you’re comfy,” Cas emphasized his point by bringing his hand to curl around Dean’s middle with a squeeze.
Okay, so he was drunk.
He saw Charlie side-eyeing them in mild confusion as her and Sam’s debate started cooling down. He caught her eye and shrugged, tentatively bringing a hand up to card through Cas’ hair.
The sound Cas made as he scritched against his scalp was inherently inappropriate and caught the attention of everyone in their immediate vicinity. Dean’s face flushed and he dropped his hand sheepishly, at which Cas whined.
“Cas. You’re kinda weirding me out right now.” He grit out of the corner of his mouth. “Can you get offa me? My legs are getting numb.”
“5 more minutes,” He said, pressing his face against Dean’s neck with a sleepy sigh.
It’s true, his thighs were beginning to ache under the (mostly) dead weight of his husband. Mostly, though, he was starting to get concerned. Lazy was not a word he would use to describe Cas, but looking down at the half-asleep lump slumped against him, lazy was the word that came to mind.
Sam and Charlie were giving him progressively less subtle and more weirded-out glances before he made an Executive Decision and pushed the man off his legs enough to stand up and hauled Cas up to lean against him.
“One too many drinks, I think I’m gonna take him inside. Excuse us.” He said, by way of apology, and began dragging his largely unresponsive spouse across the patio. Now, he was getting weird looks from everyone , and Cas was literally dragging his feet. He bent over and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, mimed the universal “drinking” gesture with his thumb and pinky to suspicious onlookers, and booked it inside, letting Cas fall onto the plush couch with a muffled oof .
“Cas, baby, you know I love you and I know you hate it when I tell you what to do but you gotta lay off the margaritas.”
To be fair, Eileen could make a mean Cosmo.
Cas looked confused, he dragged a hand down his face. “No, I know...I’m—I feel fine now,” He sounded more dazed than wasted. Dean was still skeptical, and the way Cas had been acting all evening was starting to become a little worrying.
“You sure? You can take a leg, get some rest. I can handle the rest,” Dean offered because there really wasn’t much else to handle. People had mostly cleared out by now, there were likely only a few stragglers — not counting the rest of their family. The girls were probably going to stay over and Sam and Eileen always hung around to help clean up.
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Dean and Cas were just walking a nice elderly couple out the door — Ellie and Carl from the blue house across the street — when they were approached by someone who Dean thought he’d seen puttering around. Her heels clacked against their floors while she did a half walk/half jog up the stairs and her perfectly styled dark, almost purplish hair bounced on her shoulders, which were clad in an admittedly impressive leather jacket.
“Hi. I’m Bev, I just wanted to catch you two before I headed home,” She introduced herself with a stunning smile, they took turns shaking her perfectly manicured hand and did their own introductions.
“Thanks so much for coming. Where do you live? I can’t recall seeing you around,” Cas asked, looping an arm around Dean’s.
“Actually, I’m not technically part of the neighborhood — I live on my own plot of land down by the lake, in that beautiful old colonial. I don’t know if you’ve seen it?”
“Oh, yeah, always wondered if anyone actually lived there. Real nice house. Gotta say, though, that jacket interests me more. Real leather?”
Bev reminded Dean a little bit of a peacock fanning their feathers while she straightened up and launched into a lengthy explanation of how rare and expensive and vintage it was. Honestly, he had just been trying to make small talk. Keyword: small.
“My husband has a jacket similar to that one, but it’s brown and less...flashy. I find it more authentic, without all that ornery.”
Dean stiffened beside him. Was Cas...trying to fight this lady, or something? Did Cas want him to fight her?
“Mm. Figures, all this ‘ornery’ wouldn’t quite suit such a...well, man , as Dean is,” Bev bristled, straightening her jacket sleeve with a fluid flick of her wrist.
“You could say that. Dean is very handy, constantly getting his hands dirty — and the rest of him, in the process. And, now, I’m sure it wouldn’t fit very well. Dean’s put on so much more muscle, I doubt he could even get it on past his elbows.” Cas said matter-of-factly, groping the swell of Dean’s arm for emphasis. Dean didn’t even have the brainpower to add anything, he just sort of stared past Bev. His eyes were glued to the frayed edge of the carpet in their living room, gears in his head whirring desperately to try and make sense of what was coming out of Cas’ mouth.
In his peripheral vision, something on the floor was out of place. Dean squinted hard at the ground, if only to give himself something else to focus on while Cas and Bev chattered away.
Was that a...tootsie roll wrapper?
Who the fuck was in his house eating tootsie rolls ? Did they even make those anymore? Even sell them in this area? All at once, things slid into place; Dean swore a lightbulb appeared over his head at his little eureka! moment.
Fucking Gabriel .
Honestly, he should have known. Hanging up the hunting gear for so long had clearly taken a toll on his general awareness, and he tried to ignore the mess of feelings that realization threatened to dislodge.
“Hey, Bev, it was so nice meeting you, but Cas and I have something urgent to attend to,” Dean spoke up suddenly, opening the door wider and more emphatically with a forced smile on his face. Bev allowed herself to be ushered out of the front door, all while exchanging catty looks with his husband, which Dean chose to ignore.
He waved Bev off while Cas mumbled to himself behind him, rearranging something by the closet. Dean slammed the door shut with a herculean sigh of relief, and was immediately struck by the realization that things were far from over. His relief dissipated as quickly as it came as he eyed his husband, whose stature had drastically changed now that Bev was off their property. Now, he was all innocent blue eyes and PG physical contact as he crossed the small space between them to circle his arms around Dean’s hips, pillowing his cheek on his chest. Right, now he could be appropriate.
“Get Eileen to help clear out the rest of the guests, then we gotta talk,” Dean said morosely, tearing himself away from his very attentive husband who was finally acting normal after a whole evening of insanity with a side of batshit.
He left Cas with a parting kiss — which he could now do without worrying Cas would go all sex-maniac on him — to go find Sam. He still eyed the other man carefully while he retreated to the back of the house, half expecting to be pounced on. He made it to the backyard unscathed, and managed to find his brother and pull him off to the side.
He explained their situation in clipped details and heavy references that most civilians ( Huh . He thought, Haven’t used that word in a while .) wouldn’t understand even if they did overhear their hushed conversation. Cas and Eileen were rounding up the strays to send them home, anyway, and Dean sent Cas an appreciative wave from across the garden.
Once they had cleared the remaining party-goers out through the front door and done a final sweep of the house to make sure nobody had decided to be nosy and snoop through their house, the four of them gathered in the living room. Claire and Kaia had announced that they had errands to run the next day, so they’d be taking their leave, and they waved the two out of the door before Dean stood and gave his basic run-down of the Cas Sitch.
“Dean, are you sure? Wouldn’t an archangel have something better to do than mess with you two all day?” Sam frowned, signing along as he spoke.
Not Gabriel, and Dean saw the realization in Sam’s face before he even finished talking/signing. “...Huh. Yeah, okay; say it’s Gabriel, what do we do about it?”
Dean shrugged. “Hell if I know. Summon him? There’s not exactly been a clear end goal revealed, or whatever. We don’t even know how badly he messed with Cas.”
“I don’t feel any different.” Cas bristled from where he sat cross-legged on his meditation cushion. Dean winced when he realized he hadn’t been signing what he was saying and shot an apologetic glance to Eileen (at least she got the gist from reading his lips and Sam signing a quick summary to her) before addressing his husband.
“Cas. Sweetheart. I love you, but you are beyond bewitched. Do you seriously not remember what went down?” Dean groaned in frustration at Cas’ empty look and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “ This is exactly why we don’t have people over.”
“I hardly think this situation is exactly why-”
“You know what I mean!”
“Do I? I thought I was ‘beyond bewitched’ ?” Cas air-quoted wanly, raising a challenging eyebrow. Dean dragged a hand down his face in frustration.
“I didn’t mean-”
There was a very distinct poof from behind him, complete with those tacky glittery sound effects.
“Ladies, ladies; you can quit your bickering, Daddy’s home!”
Everyone sprung up from their seats while Dean spun around, ready to lunge.
“You little shit !” Dean fumed, finding himself stuck in place, staring down 5’6 of shit-eating grin surrounded by residual sparkles from his grand entrance.
“Dean-o, always a pleasure.” Gabriel nodded in acknowledgment, striding past him, and suddenly he wasn’t suspended mid-pounce and he stumbled.
“Sammy, Eileen, Cassie, so good to see you all. Sorry, I missed out on all the Winchester BBQ fun, but bigger fish, and all.”
At least Gabe had the decency to sign. Even though he could probably infuse his voice with angelic mojo or something equally insane so Eileen could hear him.
“Sammich and co., I’m afraid I’ll need to borrow the homos for a mo’. If you’ll excuse us,” Gabriel did a low-sweeping bow and suddenly Sam and Eileen were gone, Cas was left standing by the couch, frozen in shock.
“Don’t worry, they’re over at my condo in Hawaii . Oops, I hope I remembered to clear out the porn stars.” Gabe shook his head, returning his attention to the other two. Dean wanted to kill him just for the way he pronounced “Hawaii” with the “v”. Douchebag.
“Right. Now that it’s just us guys, we can get down to business; re: my house-warming gift to you.” He announced cheerily. Dean scowled.
“Bigger fish, my ass! You’ve been messing with Cas all day. Get the fuck out of our house, we don’t want your gift ,” He seethed. Cas put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and silently urged him to calm the fuck down, we’re dealing with an archangel here . Dean listened and took a deep breath.
“It’s rude to talk to your guests that way, Dean. Don’t make me turn all of your lube into superglue, then you’ll really have a stick up your ass.” He warned with a face-splitting grin. He was enjoying this, of course, he was. Fuckin’ tricksters, man. Even the fake ones.
“Ha! Well, I’d say it’s pretty fucking rude to mind-control my fucking husban -”
“Gabriel.” Cas cut in, throwing Dean a meaningful and warning look. He fell silent. “Thank you for dropping in. I don’t think there’ll be any...side effects, from this evening, correct?” He turned to the smug little man, half apologetic, half stern. Gabe nodded.
“Of course not, Cassie. I’d never do such a thing! It was just a little fun, swear it. Your guys’ hunter instincts are getting flabby, by the way. I don’t suppose this will help with that, actually--anyway, my gift to you two lovebirds is...drumroll please,” Out of nowhere, the steady and fast-paced thrumming of invisible drums rung out in the space around them.
Gabriel started doing some swooping arm-gestures, they reminded Dean of those tacky Vegas magicians that used to perform live at low-class casinos and bars. There was another mini-explosion of colorful smoke (this time neon pink) and in Gabriel’s hands was a...box.
It was a nice box, to be sure. What looked like it could be mahogany or maybe cherry wood, inlaid with intricate silver threads, twisting and curling into semi-familiar symbols. It was clear the box was magic, there was a delicate latch -- also silver -- in the center. The two stared at it, partly in wonder and largely in trepidation. A magic box, made with the power of an archangel (the one who impersonated Loki, the trickster god for a good period of time, no less) could be unfathomably dangerous. Gabriel, though, looked positively giddy when he extended the box, eagerly gesturing that one of them should take it.
Clearly, they were both thinking the same thing because they hesitated before Cas reached forward to take the VHS player-sized box. He hefted it in his hands carefully and flicked the latch up, opening the chest. Dean moved closer, peering over Cas’ shoulder to see the contents -- what could he say, curiosity got the better of him.
Still, there was anxiety building up in his chest. So, when he saw what was unmistakably some kind of...weed-smoking kit, he almost laughed. Inside the box -- which was lined with deep purple fabric -- were two pipes and a cluster of little green (and suspiciously vibrant) knobs of cannabis.
“Do you love me, or do you love me?” Gabriel beamed. Cas laughed shortly and looked up at him.
He looked over to Dean, then back at the box, and then back at Gabriel. “A weed box?...Thank you?”
“You are very welcome! And it’s not just any weed box, my darling little brother. It’s an infinite weed box! And that hooch in there is literally the best in town. And by town, I mean the world. Happy blazing, queens!” And just like that, he was gone.
Dean fell back onto the couch with a heavy exhale/laugh.
He made grabby hands at Cas until he sat down on the couch next to him, carefully placing the box on the floor -- obviously still a little wary of it. Dean sighed again and tucked his face against Cas’ neck, “Our lives are so fucked up.” A pause, then he said, “Are we actually gonna smoke that stuff?”
“It’d be rude not to, don’t you think?” Cas smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. Dean’s phone buzzed, and he jumped.
“ SHIT! ”
Sammy: Yeah, we’re fine, by the way. Thanks for checking
“Fuck. Sam says they’re okay,” Dean breathed in relief, and it was followed shortly by a laugh when Sam sent him a photo of him and Eileen flipping them off from the beach, their faces slathered in sunscreen and split by two matching grins. The caption read: don’t bother calling for the next week, we’re on our honeymoon 😎.
sorry, sammy! U crazy kids have fun, find some nude beaches ;))))))
Sammy: 🖕🏻
Dean was fighting an uphill battle with his phone, trying to save the picture Sam sent (for blackmail purposes. Not sentimental ones. Obviously) when he heard the clacking of the pipes together while Cas fiddled with them.
Dean shoved his phone into his pocket, “Don’t start without me!”