Archive of Our Own ^beta

The demon got into the house through the back window. Dean had told Cas that salt pipes to keep demons out were a stupid idea, that it wouldn't hold up to the outdoors, but then Cas had done that thing with his eyebrow and well, here he was. Fighting a demon in his living room at ass o’clock in the morning. 

Living above ground had its perks but the unpredictability of the flora and fauna and weather and dirt had Dean regularly reconsidering his stance on moving out of the bunker, and this was not helping. 

He spent a few precious seconds trying to chase away the fuzzy spots floating in his vision from being slammed onto the dining table, but from the annoyed sigh near the doorway it appeared he was catching a break. The commotion had awoken Cas, and he was clearly pissed.

As Dean strained his neck to watch, Cas hit the banker-wearing demon on the back of the skull and the base of the spine in two quick movements, knocking him out into a slumped pile on the kitchen floor. Cas then yawned wide enough that his jaw cracked, walked over to the bookshelf in the hallway, and pulled out a tiny pamphlet, tossing it onto Dean’s chest where he was still laying across the table.

Dean grumbled his way into an upright position and stared at the book of exorcisms Cas had decided would be his problem.

“The fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

Cas shot him an unimpressed look and gestures vaguely at the body on the floor. “Is it not obvious?”

“But—“

“No more violence,” Cas turned around from where he was already headed back up the stairs. “We decided Jack wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. And I’m certainly not burning a body at three in the morning.”

Dean opened his mouth and abruptly closed it again. Cas was right. He always seemed to be nowadays. Sometimes Dean wondered if Cas was getting better at being human or if Dean himself had always been awful at it in the first place.

An hour and three awkward explanations later, Dean was sending the confused former-meatsuit on his way home right as the morning light began to peek over the horizon and bathe the muted ashy tones of the porch in gold.

Dean had never quite noticed the sunrise before they moved into the lakehouse. He had seen plenty. With a man as erratic as John Winchester setting their schedules it was inevitable, the days bleeding into each other, a cycle of chips and soda with teeth that went unbrushed and hair left uncombed. The sunrise was nothing special when you barely had a moment to breathe. 

But now, Dean had time. He could stand on his porch and feel the earth warm as the sunlight sank into his skin and shimmered on the delicate surface of the lake. 

Cas hadn’t initially understood Dean’s desire to be this far removed from the rest of civilization but the moment he laid eyes on the blue expanse Cas had gone silent, his eyes wide, and Dean had known that this was the place.

He closed his eyes, birds chirping and hair ruffling in the breeze. When Dean went back inside he would add ‘sunrise’ to a list he kept in a notebook in his dresser, far from eyes that would crinkle and worry and ask concerned questions.

But for now, he would attend to the baby whimpers he could hear gently breaking through the peaceful morning.  

*        *        *

The end of the world and the beginning of the rest had been confusing, to say the least.

Jack had held onto the frankly ridiculous god-power for approximately four hours before he decided he didn’t actually want to know all the ways Riverdale could end as well as the knowledge that the actual ending was going to be the worst one possible. Cas’s argument that Jack should be with his family because, “you’re barely four years old,” had also been rather persuasive. 

So, when Jack came to Cas and said he wanted to “experience life, but for real”, he was met with ample support. He didn’t seem too bothered that Dean had been trying to make out with Cas right before Jack made his request. 

The next few weeks were a flurry of boxes and forged IDs and a few tearful conversations with Jack about what colour he wanted his nursery. Sam scoured real estate listings and they all debated the extent to which they could stretch Charlie’s magic credit cards while staying under the radar. Dean also spent the time acclimating himself to waking up with a headful of messy black hair tickling his nose.

But it passed quickly. Before he knew it, Dean was standing in front of a two-story lake house, keys cold in his pocket, Cas warm next him, and arms occupied with an infant who had briefly been the most powerful being on the planet. 

*        *        *

*        *        *

Dean nudged open the door to Jack’s room, floorboards creaking under his shifting weight, and paused. Cas already had Jack cradled on his chest, gently swaying on the rocking chair in the corner. Dean leaned against the doorway as a familiar warmth spread through his chest. 

Cas’s eyes were closed and he was quietly humming what sounded like ‘Walking on Sunshine’. The actual sunshine outside slanted through the cracks in the blinds, dust swirling in the shafts of light, and Dean felt the restlessness from the abrupt awakening dissipate. It was technically his turn on Baby Duty for the night, but Jack had actually slept through for once, the only disturbance being the unfortunate guest they’d had just before dawn.  

“You good?” Cas’s eyes cracked open at the sound of Dean’s voice, a small smile on his lips. 

“As good as I’ll get after last night.”

Dean pushed off the doorframe and ventured into the room, making his way to a cross legged position on the floor in front of Cas and the now-dozing Jack. Cas’s hand found his hair. Eyes slipping closed, Dean recounted, “I texted Sam. He says that Rowena says that there was a random breach in hell and the demon probably just spawned somewhere around here, so it’s not like we were being targeted.” 

Dean opens his eyes and sees Cas’s nose crinkle. “Do you have to use ‘spawn’?” 

Dean grinned tiredly, “Why not? Jack is our spawn.”

“That is not remotely how that happened.” 

Dean shook his head loose from Cas’s hand and reached out, Cas answering by depositing Jack into his waiting arms and pecking Dean on the head. 

Cas mumbled into Dean’s forehead, “I’m going back to bed,” before stumbling his way out of the room, leaving Dean with the sunshine and the baby. 

Dean took a moment to duck his head into the blonde wisps atop Jack’s head. He had long suspected that Jack hadn’t reverted into a completely human infant. He was just so easy. He slept well, cried only occasionally, even his dirty diapers didn’t smell that bad. It was a sharp contrast to Dean’s memory of Sam, who seemed to cry all day everyday. When he brought it up to Cas he was reminded that Sam was likely recovering from both of his primary caretakers essentially disappearing. The concept makes Dean’s chest ache and he breathes in Jack’s baby scent to calm down.

The thing is: it's fine. He’s fine. It’s been six months of early mornings and pacifiers and way too many loads of laundry. It’s been fine.

Dean knew the motions. He could warm milk and change diapers and burp a baby. He was well-equipped. 

But. 

His mind goes to Sam and his righteous fury when he left for college. He thinks about Ben accusing him of betrayal. He thinks about a world-hardened Claire. He even sometimes thinks about Emma, how he never looked for her purgatory, that if it wasn’t for him maybe she could’ve been someone. Maybe he never looked for her because he knew that whatever he touched ended up shattered. And maybe that was the crux of the problem.

Dean stroked Jack’s fingers, his heart clenching traitorously as the little hand reflexively curled around his thumb.

Deep, deep, deep down, Dean knew that maybe he was just too broken to raise kids. That maybe no matter how hard he tried the universe wouldn’t let him have one nice thing, that if he relaxed even a little then his precarious vision would come tumbling down, that any gentleness he had was a fluke. He was just waiting for the universe to fix itself.

Chuck or not, Dean couldn’t shake the past precedents hovering over him. 

Jack whimpered and Dean heaved his way up, waving away thoughts of past children to focus on the very real child in his arms who had decided he was hungry. 

*        *        *

Sometimes Dean's hands shook when trying to feed Jack. He’d look into bright blue eyes that are so trusting and he sees an older version of this baby staring down the barrel of a gun and he wonders how he'd let loss hollow himself out to the point where all that was left to fill the void were pieces of his father. He wondered if it would've been different if Jack had been a baby then. He wonders if he would’ve been different if Jack had been a baby. He wonders.

At this point in his spiraling, Cas tended to notice the lack of movement and would slip the bottle from Dean's hand to lead him to the squishy armchair in the living room, pushing him down to sit for a moment while Cas finished feeding Jack. 

After a few instances, Cas quietly asked Dean where he went in those moments. The first few times, Dean opened his mouth but couldn't make sense of the jumble of thoughts in his mind. There was just so much. Too much. About a week after his mental breakdown on Jack’s floor he finally made an attempt. 

"Sometimes, I see my Dad in my head. It's like I’ve got two parts of my brain and one of them is the normal part where I'm me and I'm with you and Jack and it's fine and sometimes," Cas, snuggled next to him in the armchair, runs a hand through Dean's hair. Dean lets out a shaky breath, "Sometimes, I'm seeing everything the way he'd see it. It’s like. You—you know those glasses Claire got you?"

"The heart-shaped ones?"

Dean snorts. "Yeah, those ones. You know how they make everything look kinda red?"

"Mmm, I would say that they're pink."

"No, they're definitely red."

"I'm quite certain they're pink." Cas shifted to get up and retrieve them from their bedroom but Dean looped an arm around his waist to keep him in place, pulling him half onto his lap. 

"Okay, yeah, pink, whatever. What I mean is that everything is kinda filtered for him. It's like I've got John Winchester glasses on and I can't take them off. I think I’m bad with Jack and I’m bad with you and I won’t be able to fix it when it all goes south." 

For a few moments the songbirds and distant sound of the forest are the only sounds Dean could hear. 

Then Cas spoke, "I think." He paused as if to gather his thoughts. Dean noticed the hand in his hair was trembling and Cas's jaw was clenched in anger. His heart leaped into his throat as Cas continued, "that I would kill John Winchester given the chance."

Dean made a strangled noise, torn between laughing at the sudden declaration of violence and listening to Cas voice a sentiment he himself had thought secretly in his darkest moments of shame. 

"Cas, you can't—" 

"Why not?” Cas’s eyes flashed as he cut Dean off, “His behavior towards you and Sam was despicable. Not to mention illegal in multiple states! Beyond the physical neglect, he traumatized you to the point where you feel beholden to his desires and beliefs decades later.    I—it’s just—" Cas turned to look Dean in the eye. 

"You are so much more than John Winchester. Not because you happen to be different, but because you choose to be different. That's what matters. You looked at your history with Jack and decided he deserved love. The fact that the same sentiment wasn’t extended to you is—it’s, well, it’s fucked up."

Dean’s chest warms with a feeling he was becoming familiar with, with how he felt when he first kissed Cas, how he feels when he sees Cas holding his child—their child, when he wakes up before Cas on a Sunday with the morning light dappled across the sheets and his angel bundled up beside him. It was only slightly enhanced by the fact that Cas had actually cursed. Dean was stupid in love with him.

Oblivious to Dean's emotional upheaval Cas shrugged and continued, "Of course, I would still like to murder your father. I know we said no violence but I think we could 'let it slide.'" Cas mimed little quotation marks, making Dean laugh and lean over to kiss him on his temple, his cheek, the tip of his nose. 

"Babe, he's already dead. I think it'd be a bit overkill."

"Just a little." 

Dean hummed. "Okay. Just a little." 

*        *        *

“You realize I’m also scared.”

Dean looked up from the two jars of tomato paste he was debating between to see Cas holding the shopping cart with whitened knuckles. Jack was in the built-in seat sticking his hand into his mouth while making gurgling noises, and Dean made a mental note to sanitize the carts from now on—but first: “Scared of what, Cas?” 

Cas ran a hand through his already unruly hair and Dean noticed his trembling lips and bright eyes and immediately dropped both cans back on the shelf. Cas’s arms opened up slightly and Dean stepped between them, arms winding around Cas’s waist as he burrowed his face into Dean’s shoulder. He let out a shuddering breath and Dean tightened his hold. 

Cas’s answer was muffled by Dean’s sweatshirt. 

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna need you to speak up.”

Cas grumbled and pulled back so they were loosely holding each other, feet still bracketed. “You say you’re concerned you might not be adequate for Jack. But I’m—I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

He looks over at Jack, now enamoured with the handle of the cart, “I'm scared I’m going to break him, not just physically, but emotionally. I’ve never been loved like this before, so how do I know I’m doing it right?”

Dean’s heart aches. “Cas—”

“And I know that I don’t require parental love to be able to give it to another person, and I know older Jack was alright, but,” his eyes darted around as Dean’s hands moved to cup his face. “How do I know I’m not ruining his life until years later. Kids carry trauma, Dean, you and Sam are a prime example of that.” 

Dean ignores the pang in his chest that reminds him that no matter his best efforts, he’d never been able to fully shield Sam from their father. “Cas, we’re going to figure it out, okay? It’s gonna be really hard sometimes but it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be fine. Especially considering the fact that we’ve got Sam and Eileen and Jody and a bunker full of teenagers willing to drop everything to help us. Hey—Cas—hey,” He squeezed Cas slightly to regain the faltered eye contact. “Even if you didn’t have me, you’re not alone. Not anymore. In fact, we’re all gonna be annoying as fuck.”

“Fuck!” Jack chirped brightly from his seat and Dean groaned as Cas glared at him and stepped out from between his arms, moment over.

“Dean!”

He throws his hands in the air. “At least it’s not his first word!” 

Cas looked unimpressed. “You’re very fortunate he said ‘dada’ last week or you would be in a lot of trouble right now.”

“Dada!” Jack stretches his arms towards Cas, who doesn’t hesitate to reach forward and pull him from his seat. 

“Hello Jack.” Jack giggles and pulls at Cas’s hair, making him wince. Dean makes a mental note to force Cas into a haircut sometime this week. Apparently Cas felt that growing all that hair out and then cutting it off was wasteful, but until Jack learned to keep his hands from yanking at any dangling object in his vicinity, Dean was enforcing the precaution. 

He also didn’t think he could handle another incident of Claire embellishing Cas’s hair with sparkly blue clips that had complemented his wide eyes when he asked Dean how it looked. 

Dean’s squeaked out, “It looks fine,” had made Claire laugh so hard she hit her head falling off her chair.

“Excuse me,” Dean turned around to see an elderly woman smiling indulgently at them. Apparently a heart-to-heart in the middle of a grocery store involved blocking an entire set of shelves. Dean stumbled over an apology, but the woman waved him off. 

“Don’t worry dear, we all get caught up when we’re young and in love. Could you actually help me with something?” 

As Dean reached up to grab the fancy pasta sauce the woman needed from the top shelf, he replayed the comment in his mind. He hadn’t felt young in so long. Even without his forty-year detour to hell, life had felt like one fucking disaster after another. But to an old lady with no context, he was just some guy with his boyfriend and kid with a lot of life left to live. 

Huh. He handed the woman her sauce. Maybe he was kinda young. Even if Claire had him saved as ‘Old Man’ in her phone. 

“Thank you so much. And look at you!” She gave Jack a little wave and he waved a chubby hand back, making a little gurgling noise before tucking his face into Cas’s neck, suddenly shy. “How old is he?” 

Before Cas could say Jack was actually four entire years old Dean jumped in, “He’ll be seven months in a week. Probably gonna start teething soon.”

He steadfastly ignored Cas’s questioning look and plastered a smile onto his face as the woman said her goodbyes and went on her way. 

Cas caught Dean’s arm as he turned back to his tomato paste and leveled him a confused expression. “I thought you didn’t read the child development books Sam got for us.”

“I didn’t,” Dean tried to sound casual but saw Cas’s eyes soften when he adds, “I remember from when Sam was younger.” 

“I see.” Cas’s tone was carefully blank and Dean resisted the urge to deflect. If Cas could talk about his feelings in the middle of the fucking Sprouts, then he could at least try . 

“It’s not a big deal, it’s just,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Jack made a restless noise and Dean reflexively reached out for him. The weight of Jack in his arms somehow made it easier to speak. “I didn’t remember much from before because I didn’t need to. But now Jack’s the same age as when I suddenly needed to know stuff.” He dipped his head to nuzzle Jack’s head and felt the pressure of Cas’s hand on his shoulder.

“Do you wanna go home?” 

The question was a bit disorienting and it took Dean a moment to realize that it was the first time Cas had referred to the lake house as home. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

Dean ran back five minutes later for the tomato paste. 

And if tomato paste found its way onto his list that night, then no one needed to know.

*        *        *

After they started, it was like a dam had been unblocked.

Washing the dishes turned into Dean recounting the time he went for a walk in the woods alone and woke up from a quick nap thinking he was still in purgatory. Laundry turned into sitting on the floor and listening to Cas describe Naomi taking his memories over and over. Making the bed usually turned into Dean getting fucked into the mattress but sometimes they talked about their feelings afterwards. 

Dean would trace the scars across Cas’s back and sometimes he’d get context, a tale of fighting a hellhound or the Empty or a lawnmower. Most times he’d just get a very serious “Dean, that tickles.” When Cas returned the favour it was a different story. 

“I used to have a scar up the entire back of my thigh.” 

Cas peers up from between Dean’s legs with a look of concern. “From a hunt?”

Dean chuckles, “Nah, I fell off my bike when I was eight.”

Cas’s face clears up. “Ah, that makes sense. I wouldn’t have left a scar on your body when I recreated it.” 

“Real thorough, weren’t you,” Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Making my lungs all symmetrical and shit.”

“Actually, the left lung is typically smaller than the right.” 

“Cas, is this really the ti—wait, really?” Dean craned his head up from the pillow as Cas tilted his head.

“Your left lung has to share your chest cavity with your heart. Not that I would’ve messed up so monumentally.” Cas leaned forward and Dean’s dick twitched in interest, likely remembering what they had been in the middle of before being interrupted. 

“So you’re pretty well acquainted with my body, huh?” Dean leered at Cas. 

Cas was unimpressed. “I could get to know it better.” 

Dean yelped when Cas’s mouth descended onto his dick a moment later.

Blowjobs were definitely going on the list.

*        *        *

It wasn’t actually Dean’s fault that most of the town thought that they were married. 

When the man at the bank asked if he and his husband were interested in a joint account, he just didn’t correct him and wiped his sweaty palms under the desk. When the repairman that looked over the electrical wiring before they moved in remarked that Dean should ask his spouse’s opinion, Dean said he’d think about it and resolutely did not think about it. 

When the lady with the strawberry preserve booth at the farmers market remarked that it was a pretty liberal town and that Dean and Cas shouldn't be afraid to wear their wedding rings proudly, Dean only almost knocked over an entire display tray and four racks of candles. He was just glad Cas had gone to change Jack’s diaper and hadn’t witnessed his stuttered response and heated cheeks. Not that he needed to convince Cas he was cool. That ship had sailed at least 8 years ago, if not more.

But the woman’s comment was so much more vivid than the offhand mentions of Cas as his life partner and it kind of haunted Dean for a while. He would wipe down the kitchen and not think about how Cas and him clearly gave off such married energy that everyone within a two-mile radius could detect it.

He would take a photo of Jack on a pile of leaves in the background and not think about Jack having to explain that yes, he had two dads but no, they weren’t married. 

He absolutely did not lay in bed with only the moonlight and his sleeping beloved next to him and have his brain whisper husband traitorously. 

He didn’t think about a lot of things. 

Dean didn’t even know if Cas would ever even think about—let alone consider — do angels even get married? When confronted with the idea that maybe Cas just didn’t want to get married, Dean found it much easier to dismiss the thought altogether, despite what the ache in his chest might say. Not that he cared. 

But it probably did explain why marriage was lurking in the periphery of his mind. 

*        *        *

Cas had a bright yellow sun hat he wore while gardening, which made him easy to spot from the master bedroom window when Dean woke up one morning to find a mess of sheets instead of a grumpy ex-angel. Dean had bought it for him after Cas had experienced his first ever sunburn after neglecting to wear sunscreen during a swimming lesson. Cas had become very interested in sun protection, or at least in not having to rub aloe vera gel on his reddened skin for a week.

The hat was normally bobbing back and forth along the rows of flowers, vegetables, and herbs Cas had meticulously planted. It had only been about seven months, but there was a healthy crop. At least Dean was assuming there was, he had never stayed anywhere long enough to grow anything, and the bunker had been too devoid of light to attempt it. 

After a shower and a too-hot cup of coffee that had him swearing under his breath, Dean ventured outside, the morning air stinging his cheeks. His nose would be bright red within a few minutes, so Cas would be sure to make fun of him. Dean grinned at the thought.

The leaves crunched under his boots as he made his way around the back of the house to the corner Cas had taken over with the fruits of his labor. Quite literally in some senses. 

He eventually found Cas crouched on the floor with Jack held facing forward against his chest so he could see the plant Cas was talking about in a low voice. From the looks of it, Cas was lamenting the loss of half his grapes to the local bird population.

"That's the cycle of life. Even if it's not very nice. But living on earth means we have to respect all life, even if it inconveniences us sometimes." 

Dean crouched behind him, sinking his fingers into the loosely-packed topsoil. 

Cas continued, "For example, your father here is fondling the fertilizer I placed there yesterday, another example of the cycle of life."

It took a moment to sink in before Dean yelped and jumped back, "Ew, Cas what the fuck!" He looked up accusingly to see Cas smiling wryly. "Is this fucking cow poop? Did you let me touch cow poop?"

"It's technically considered manure."

"Unbelievable! You see Jack? See what I have to put up with." 

Jack clapped his hands and grinned, straining against Cas's hold to get to Dean. The idea that this little guy saw Dean as someone he wanted to hold him, someone he considered safe made Dean's head spin. Without thinking he reached out his arms only to have Cas snatch Jack back, the infant making a small noise of protest. 

"Dean, you can't get manure on our child!"

"You're the one who got manure on my me!" 

Cas raised a single eyebrow.

Dean threw his hands in the air and without thinking blurted, "You know what! We're getting a divorce!"

Cas responded in kind, "You're going to have to marry me first."

They stopped and stared at each other, the mood abruptly shifted. Dean ducked his head as his lungs took a moment to get with the program. "You—ah—" he kicked the ground and ventured a look at Cas. "You'd want that?"

Cas, against all odds, blushes, nervously bouncing an oblivious Jack.  "Um. Yes. I would." He takes a deep breath and looks at Dean shyly, "I'd like that. Very much. I just didn't know if you were—if you ever thought about it."

The truth is, Dean couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd long since placed marriage in a box in his head loudly labelled 'for other people'. After Cassie, he shoved the parts of him that were too soft for the hardened world around him deep down, and even Lisa hadn't fully reopened the chasm in his mind. But now. 

Now he looked at Cas in his floppy hat, the crisp autumn air a sharp contrast to the heat of the sun and the warmth he seemed to carry around with him perpetually nowadays. He traced the crinkles around the blue eyes that were miracles themselves. He wanted to announce to the world that he, Dean Winchester, had done that. Not just made an angel of the fucking lord fall, but that he could make him laugh and smile and feel things for long enough that they were now permanent fixtures on his face. 

Dean looked at Jack, his wide blue eyes confused at the sudden silence. His son. Imagined the hand holding his little torso with a ring on it. 

And the box in Dean's head dissolved.

"I—yeah, Cas. Yeah, I'll marry the hell outta you." 

The grin that slowly spread across Cas's face  was more beautiful than every sunset over the lake Dean had ever seen and without thinking he moved forward.

Cas hiked Jack up and to the side, leaving one hand open for Dean to grab as he stepped into his space. "Was that you asking?" 

"Oh, Absolutely not. When I ask you to marry me you're going to be crying from joy." 

Cas lifts an eyebrow, "Oh, really?"

Dean leans in closer. "Yup. And you know what?"

Cas's "What?" is a breathy whisper on Dean's lips. 

"You've got poop on your hand."

"Dean Winchester I am going to—"

Dean interrupts him with a loud smooch on the cheek, making Cas swat at him with their still-intertwined hands incredulously. 

He plants a matching one on Jack's head, who wriggles in Cas's hold, and relinquishes Cas's hand, making his way back to the cabin and ignoring Cas's yell of, "See if I marry you after this!"

Dean pushes open the front door and glances at his reflection in the window. His grin rivals Cas's from earlier. He looks. 

He looks happy.

*        *        *

Sam calls as often as he can, as working part-time as the unofficial head of the hunter HQ at the bunker while trying to finish his law degree at a local university means Dean sees his face less often then he'd like. 

The fact that they had called each other three times a day the first week Dean and Cas moved out also brings up the concern that perhaps they were more codependent than was normal. Dean just misses him. A lot.

They've managed to cut it down to one call a day, though. After dinner, Dean will sit on the porch steps on the side of the house with a view of the lake, gently shivering until Cas brings him a blanket and joins him, a steady line of warmth against Dean's side. 

If Jack's been in a good mood, he's already been put to bed. If not, well. 

"Sam, hold on. Hey buddy," Dean put the phone on the ground as he pulled a sobbing Jack out of Cas's arms. Jack snuggled into his shoulder, muffling his crying. Dean vaguely registered Cas picking up the phone and greeting Sam. 

Cas had once told Dean that he hadn't fully understood the concept of needing people until he became human. 

"I was lonely as an angel too. I think." He had said, half into his pillow. Legs tangled and arms thrown over waists, Dean had hardly been able to tell where he ended and Cas began. Maybe the closeness was the reason they could breach the topic of loneliness in the first place. 

"I didn't know anything else," Dean could barely make out Cas's eyes as they locked gazes. "Until I had you." 

Dean had barely been able to speak past the lump in his throat, wanting to say that Cas had always had him but he knew it wasn't true, that no matter how deeply burrowed the tendril of that unspeakable whatever they had was, he had looked Cas in the eyes at his most vulnerable and sent him packing. 

Helplessly he'd said, "You've got me. For as long as you want." 

Cas had placed his hand on Dean's cheek, fingertips brushing his hairline, "And you've got me."

And Cas also had Claire and Eileen and Donna and Julia, who ran the book club in town. And after the Empty, Sam had made it clear that Cas had him too.  

Jack made a snuffling noise and Dean was gently pulled back to the present. A pudgy hand was reaching out and Dean followed it to see fireflies blinking in and out over the grass and the lake beyond, breaking through the gentle fog that was encroaching upon the lake. 

Cas laughed at something Sam said. "Jack's up right now actually. Do you wanna say hi?"

Cas pressed some combination of buttons and before he knew it Dean was watching his brother's face cooing at Jack on the tiny screen. Dean was almost obscured by the infant in front of him, but he didn't mind. Leaving Jack behind had been a difficult decision for Sam, since he’d  had a big part in raising him before. He just had so much else he needed to focus on, what with law school and Eileen and the attempt to create a comprehensive digitized men of letters database that he claimed was just a 'side hobby'. 

Dean knew he missed Jack though. So he listened to his brother respond to Jack's baby babble with increasingly incomprehensible babble of his own as the night grew darker. Cas pressed in closer to his side and Dean watched the fireflies. 

Fireflies ended up on the list after they finally made it back inside. 

*        *        *

“Hey, old man.” 

Dean squinted up at Claire, backlit by the sun. The weather had been lovely recently, but being in the garden with the sun beating down was not. Claire was wearing a baseball cap that read “Fish fear me. Women want me.” and Dean wondered briefly if she would get him a matching one but quickly discarded the idea. Last time he tried to connect with her on a fashion level she had slathered eyeliner on him, which had taken days to get off of his face completely.

“Hey yourself. Any particular reason you're visiting at,” He checked the watch Cas had gotten for him, “11:38 on a Tuesday?” 

Claire shrugged, “Cas told me you were making lasagna. Also,” She looked off over the lake and took a breath. “Kaia and I had a fight. I think.” 

“You think? What makes you not sure?” Dean grabbed the last of the paper bags and went to work covering the final bundle of grapes as Claire attempted an explanation.

“She seems mad at me? I don’t know, it’s just like weird and I needed to get away before I say or do something stupid.” Claire grabs the hand Dean reaches up towards her and yanks him into an upright position. “Christ, dude, what have you been eating?”

Dean grinned and patted his stomach while wiggling his eyebrows.

“Ew! That's my dad!” Claire smacked Dean’s arm and he gasped dramatically while she glared at him. 

“You should really respect your elders.”

“Will do,” Claire simpered with false sweetness, “once I find someone worthy of my respect.” 

“Ouch.” 

The creaking back door pulled their attention to the house, where Cas was standing in the doorway and gesturing for the duo to come back inside. Dean threw an arm over Claire’s shoulder, which she allowed begrudgingly. Claire complained a lot—a lot , it felt endless sometimes—but she was just as touch-starved as most hunters. She was always the last to let go of a hug and Dean wanted her to know she could hold on as long as she needed.

Once they got inside, the evening turned into Dean’s Cooking Show as he pulled the lasagna out of the oven and began garnishing it to oooh s and aaah s from his studio audience. Jack was in his high chair with mashed carrots all over his face, but he still watched with wide eyes and smacked the table when he decided wasn’t getting enough attention. 

If Dean leaned a bit too much into the performance, sue him. If he finally got to properly nest he might as well go a bit overboard. Ordering three varieties of cheese for lasagna might be excessive but no one complained at dinner so he took it as a sign that it was pretty much fine. 

They carefully avoided the topic of Kaia and Dean took that as a cue to give Claire and Cas some privacy. After dinner he left them in the living room and carried Jack to the bathroom to fill up the baby bath. Cas wanted to transition Jack into the regular bathtub, but it still made Dean a bit too nervous, especially since Jack wiggled around so much. 

Jack rubbed his mush covered face into Dean’s shoulder as they waited for the tub to fill and Dean cringed. Cas had gotten him this shirt for Jack’s 1-month “We Didn’t Kill Our Child or Each Other” party and the stain would definitely start setting in soon. 

Unfortunately Dean wasn’t going to be able to save his shirt, as Jack decided today would be a great day to fight Dean every step of the bathing process. Getting clothes off a six-month old was already a task but today Jack was particularly playful and seemed to twist his body in the exact direction to make removing his t-shirt impossible. 

“Jack, please.”

Jack pouted, “Pa!” 

 “You’re not gonna make this easy for me, huh?” 

Jack just giggled and Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You know, your dad used to be really annoying about bathing too.” 

Jack settled a little. “Oh so you like stories about Dada, huh? Well, let me tell you about the time he flooded the master bathroom the first week we lived here.” It took Dean a couple of anecdotes of Cas flooding various rooms and getting conditioner in his eye, but he eventually found himself wrapping Jack in his bath towel. It had a built-in hood with a teddy bear face on it. The first time Sam had seen Jack bundled up in it he had teared up on the spot. Dean hadn’t admitted that he’d initially had the same reaction. 

Dean scooped him up and Jack snuggled his head on Dean’s chest, the warm bath making him sleepy. The hall was dark and Dean could hear Claire on the phone in her room, voice muffled by the closed door. He made his way into Jack’s nursery, where he found Cas in the rocking chair, skimming through Goodnight Moon. Dean put a finger over his mouth as an indication to be quiet and slowly lowered Jack into his crib. He held his breath as the baby fought to keep his eyes open, and then sighed as he slowly blinked a bit longer, then finally closed, succumbing to his exhaustion.

Dean’s eyes traced over his kid’s face, the pudgy cheeks and long lashes, the pink lips parted slightly as Jack’s breathing steadied. He jumped when he felt Cas’s hand on his arm, who was clearly fighting a laugh as he pulled Dean out of the nursery and flicked off the light switch. 

Dean pulled the door behind him, the door making the faintest clicking noise as it slid closed.

Cas’s voice was still low when he asked, “Do you want hot chocolate?” 

Dean grinned, “Fuck yeah!”

“Language!”

“Are you for real right now? He’s asleep.”  

They continued their furiously whispered conversation until they had cleared the darkened kitchen and Cas swung himself up onto the counter. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I see, you want hot chocolate, but none of the work?” Cas pouted and Dean tsked. The window was open and moonlight flooded the kitchen, the plants on the windowsill casting long shadows across the tile. The only other light was the stove Dean turned on to heat up the milk before grabbing the gourmet chocolate bars from the cabinet. Cas had developed a taste for “good hot chocolate” and Dean couldn’t help himself from experimenting. 

As they waited for it to heat up Dean stopped forward between Cas’s legs, hands to his waist. 

“Hi.” 

Cas smiled, arms going around Dean’s shoulders, “Hello Dean.” 

“How’s Claire?” While their conversations were private, Dean still wanted to know she was okay. She’d been through a lot, most of which she wouldn’t even tell them. 

To Dean’s surprise Cas’s smile grew. “Oh, I think Claire will be fine. I think she might be reading too far into her and Kaia’s interactions out of nerves.” 

In response to Dean’s raised eyebrows, Cas lowered his voice and revealed, “She bought a wedding ring.” 

Dean’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god.” 

Cas leaned back against the cabinets. “Yes, it was quite a surprise but I suppose they are adults and clearly they’re infatuated with each other, so—” 

“No, no, Cas, you don’t understand,” Dean pulled out his phone and opened his last message to Kaia. He flipped the phone around so Cas could see the image she had sent him.

“Oh my god.” 

“Yup.” 

“So Claire—”

“Yeah.”

“And Kaia—”

“Looks like it.”

Cas looked so flabbergasted that Dean couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Hey, wanna bet they’ll propose at the same time?” 

Cas’s face lit up. “Actually, lesbians seem to do that a lot, Eileen sent me at least three videos in which that happens.” 

“They better wait a little though, cause they can’t get married before us. Sam would never let me hear the end of it.”

Cas gently tugged on Dean's shirt until their torsos were flush. "Well, it sounds like you should do something about it." 

"Well, maybe I will." 

"I look forward to it." 

Dean closed the remaining few inches between them. Cas's lips were perpetually chapped but their softness today indicated Claire convinced him to put on some chapstick. Dean smiled into Cas's mouth when he realized that it was cherry-flavored.

They made out lazily for a few minutes, Dean's hand cushioning the back of Cas's head from the cabinet behind him. Dean broke off to kiss along Cas's jaw, his ear, down his neck, and was working on an impressive hickey at the junction of Cas's neck and shoulder when Cas breathlessly interrupted, "Dean."

Dean pulled away just enough that his lips were still brushing Cas's neck, who shivered. 

"Mmm-hmm?" 

"Dean."

Dean nosed up behind Cas's ear, "Yeah?"

"The milk—"

"Shit!" A sizzling noise filled the room as Dean rushed to turn down the pot of boiled-over milk which was spreading rapidly across the stove top. He hissed as he burnt his fingertips and Cas appeared next to him with paper towels. After they sopped up the mess together Cas led Dean to the sink to hold his burnt finger under running water. 

Which resulted in Claire walking in on them 15 minutes later standing in the dark kitchen discussing the merits of the new tramway line connected to the library while still holding hands under the cold tap water. 

She then walked right back out muttering something about "men" and "fucking weirdos" under her breath. 

Cas just shrugged and asked if Dean could put the marshmallows in his hot chocolate into the shape of a smiley face. Dean sighed noisily but the look of delight in Cas's face once he put the mug in front of him was worth slightly scalding his fingertips.

Later that night he neatly wrote hot chocolate while Cas snored next to him.

*        *        *

*        *        *

Dean had been correct that Jack would start teething soon. 

No one was particularly thrilled about this occurrence. 

“Is it always like this?” Sam had to raise his voice to be heard over Jack's screaming. Cas had Jack laying on his back on his playmat and was trying to distract him with the mobile that hung over it, but nothing seemed to be working. The first day of Sam’s visit had been pleasant, but from the doorway Dean was pretty sure he was regretting extending the vacation to three more days. 

Dean had left for just an hour to pick up supplies for burgers and had returned to relative chaos. Cas seemed to be on the verge of tears and Sam looked ready to pull his hair out. 

Ignoring Sam’s question, Dean closed the front door and slipped his shoes off, padding his way to the kitchen. He rummaged through the fridge and returned to the living room with a cold  teething ring. He huffed his way into a seated position on the floor in front of Jack’s playmat. 

Jack turned his watery eyes on Dean and whimpered, making Dean’s heart ache. It took a few attempts, but eventually they were able to coax Jack into biting the object, and when his cries tapered off Sam collapsed on the sofa out of relief. Cas leaned over until Dean was supporting most of his body and slung an arm around his waist. When he finally spoke it was almost a whisper. 

“I can’t believe I forgot.” 

Dean squeezed Cas’s waist. “Forgot what?” 

Cas took a breath and lifted his head from Dean’s shoulder. He looked somewhat calmer, but there was still a helpless look in his eyes that made Dean’s stomach clench. 

“I forgot the teething stuff. I tried everything else and it didn’t even occur to me—” 

“Cas it’s really not that big of a dea—”

Cas pulled away completely and turned to face Dean. “We had to massage his gums last week, I should have known that this was going to happen, I should've remembered.” 

Something about Cas’s tone made Dean pause. “Why is it bothering you that you couldn’t remember? I forgot where his pacifier was last week and you didn’t think it was this big of a deal.” 

“I—well,” Cas wrung his hands together. “It’s not the first thing I’ve forgotten.” 

Dean blood chilled. “What do you mean?” 

Sam chimed in, “Do you think it’s a side effect of losing your grace?” The frightened look on Cas’s face indicated he’d clearly thought about it.

“I don’t—I’m not sure. It didn’t happen as much when I was human before.” 

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “Well,” Dean said. “What have you forgotten?”

Cas's face scrunched up a little. “I forgot where my keys were this morning. And then I couldn’t find my reading glasses but they were on my face the whole time. Also what time Jack’s doctor's appointment was last week. And—”

“Wait Cas hold on,” Sam interjected. “Is it just little stuff? No huge chunks of time missing? Not entire days or anything crazy?” 

At Cas’s head-shake Dean let out a sigh of relief and plopped down next to Jack, who reached out an arm, curling around Dean’s hand when it was offered. “Don’t worry Jack, your Dada’s just getting old.” Jack grinned around the ring, drool running down the side of his chin, making Dean grimace and reach for a napkin from the coffee table. When he looked back at Cas, he still looked apprehensive. 

However, Sam backed Dean up, “Yeah, Cas, I’m gonna be honest, it just sounds like normal forgetfulness. You were technically younger the last few times you were human, so it was probably easier to remember stuff.” Sam gave a little half shrug, already slouching his way back into a slumped-over position on the couch. “It’s just aging, man. Sucks, but that’s just how it is sometimes.” 

The room fell silent for a few moments before Cas finally asked, voice wavering, “So you don’t think there’s something wrong with me?” His tone was so pitiful that Dean tugged him down to lay on the floor next to him, Cas’s head on his chest with an arm thrown over Dean’s waist, scooched in close so there was no space between them. 

“This was really bothering you, huh?” Cas burrowed his head further into Dean’s chest and he took that as an affirmative. He extended the arm on Dean’s chest over to Jack, who grinned and rolled over onto his chest and half-crawled his way to his dads. 

Sam’s voice carried over, “I mean I can ask Rowena to take a look, or maybe even Patience, but I’m not sure they’re gonna say anything different.” 

Dean craned his neck back to look at Sam as Jack clambered onto his chest. “Hey, what about you witch-boy? Aren’t you still Rowena’s protege or whatever? Ow! Jack, buddy, that’s my nipple.” Jack just giggled and smacked Dean’s chest again. He wobbled dangerously, but Dean and Cas both raised a hand to his back to steady him. 

The couch squeaked as Sam hobbled to a standing position. He stretched noisily and said, “Well, I guess I could take a look.” 

“Sam, could you also do me another favor?”

“Of course, Cas.”

“Well, I think Jack needs his diaper changed, and I would really appreciate it if—”

Dean burst out laughing at Sam’s disgusted expression. Cas’s look of wide-eyed innocence was betrayed by the small smile he was trying to suppress. Sam just groaned and reached out for Jack. “C’mon Jack-Jack, let's get you cleaned up.” Jack squealed as Sam swung him up and tossed him into the air, Dean and Cas both yelling at him to stop. 

Sam rolled his eyes and grimaced when he picked up the teething ring, muttering under his breath about unsanitary conditions. Cas and Dean were left snuggled on the floor. 

“So, you wanna talk about it?”

Cas sighs. “It’s difficult to explain.”

Dean turned so he and Cas were face-to-face, noses brushing ever so slightly. “Do you wanna try or nah?” 

Cas sighs and after a moment says, “It stresses me out, forgetting things. I used to have every thought I’ve ever had, every moment of history at my fingertips.” His nose crinkles. “Well, whatever Naomi let me have at the time, I suppose.”

“What a bitch.”

“Dean.”

“She was a bitch!”

Cas raised an eyebrow and Dean resisted the urge to sigh. “Yeah, yeah, language or whatever. She was...not a very nice person. Happy?”

Cas deadpanned, “Ecstatic. Anyways, if this is normal, I suppose I should just get acclimated to it.” 

He still seemed frustrated so after a bit of hesitation Dean offered, “I know you probably don’t wanna talk to anyone about this but,” He took a fortifying breath. “Have you considered writing about it?”

Cas’s brows furrowed and Dean quickly backtracked. “Not that you have to, or that it would even help, but you know, Jody gave me a journal back after, you know, everything and she said sometimes it’s easier to get the words out, even if no one reads it. So, yeah,” He finished lamely.

The room was silent aside from the distant creaks of Sam moving around upstairs. 

“ Is it easier?” 

Dean takes a moment to consider. “Sometimes. Sometimes it feels worse because you have to go through all the awful shit in your head to try and make it make enough sense to write it down, you know?” 

“So, you have one—a journal? You write in it?” 

“Yeah,” Dean wasn’t completely lying, he was technically writing in it. “It helps me. I think.” 

Cas’s eyes roamed around Dean’s face and Dean resisted the urge to squirm. The carpet digging into the side of his face wasn’t really helping either. They really should invest in better decor. The Ikea in town was okay, but Dean was confident he could find a nice one at the farmer’s market. 

“Okay,” Cas's voice broke through Dean’s daze. “I’ll try it.” He looked awfully determined and Dean grinned. “Where will we acquire a journal?” 

“Ah, we’ll just get one next time we go on a grocery run. Do you have any preferences?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The look on Cas’s face mirrored the one when Dean had asked if he had a preference for the curtains in the living room and Cas had blurted that he didn’t usually get to make a lot of choices. The free will Cas exercised seemed to be suspended between pleasing either Heaven or Dean and the thought made Dean feel sick. 

He wanted Cas to pick anything he wanted, wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, not just because Dean would like it a certain way, but because Cas liked it. The barren room Cas had stayed in at the bunker, the borrowed clothes he’d worn as an angel, the tentative look when he wasn't sure if Dean wanted him to stay all added up to someone who didn't know if he had permission to exist. 

“Hey, you don’t have to decide right now,” Dean reached over and grabbed Cas’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “We can figure it out later.” 

Cas squeezed his fingers. “I wish I didn’t have to burden you with this. Sometimes,” He hesitates. “Sometimes I yearn for my grace. Maybe I wouldn’t be feeling like this. I could’ve fixed any of Jack’s ailments, or healed your burned fingers, or had the solution to most worldly problems at my fingertips.” 

Dean’s voice was rough when he asked, “So you regret it? Giving it up?”

“No,” The firmness in Cas’s tone surprised Dean. “This, all of this, is worth it. Besides, it was never that simple, even with my grace. I’d like to think it was but,” Cas sighed. “It was always a fucking mess wasn’t it?” 

Dean laughed, the relief in his voice palpable. “Still, I’m sorry you lost it. That you don’t have the world at your fingertips, or whatever.”

Cas freed his hand and traced his fingertips along Dean’s jaw, his ear, coming to rest on his cheek. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” 

*        *        *

*        *        *

The farmers market was always crowded, but today it seemed like every person on their side of the Mississippi river had shown up. On a regular day this wouldn't bother Dean, but on a regular day he wasn't trying to keep both Sam and Cas from drifting off into the abyss of bodies. 

"Sam, you don't need a key-holder. How many keys do you even have?" Sam ignored Dean and continued questioning the man running the stand on wood preferences. 

Dean wasn't particularly bothered, as half of his energy was focused on Cas's head bobbing further away from them in the crowd, accompanied by Jack's head which was adorned with a miniature cowboy hat. Cas had fought him on the outfit but even he had begrudgingly admitted that Jack looked adorable in his little vest and cowboy boots. 

Sam nudged Dean and after scoffing at his "What? No key-holder?", they strolled down the walkway of stalls. 

"Wow, Cas is on a mission, huh?" 

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, his favorite honey stand runs out pretty early and we got here kind of late."

Sam rolled his eyes at the accusatory tone in Dean's voice. "Listen, I didn't know you guys did this stuff on Saturdays or whatever. How was I supposed to know to wake up at 5 in the damn morning?" 

"It was 8 in the morning, you asshole." Dean dodged a runaway toddler as Sam groaned.

"Ugh, I can't believe it took a baby to make you wake up at a normal time." 

Dean barked out a laugh. “Yeah, surprisingly sleep is not exactly a priority right now. It’s exhausting, man.” Despite his words, Dean felt a smile pulling at his lips. It grew to a full-fledged grin when he spotted Cas turning around and scanning the crowd for Dean and Sam, impatiently waving a hand beckoning them forward once he saw them. Jack gave his own little wave and Dean couldn’t help giving one back. 

He turned to see Sam looking at him with soft eyes, and immediately faced forward, ears burning. 

“You’re really good with him.” 

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” Sam shrugged and Dean could tell he was avoiding eye contact. “I was just talking to Cas earlier and he was saying that you’ve been so good with him because,” Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because you pretty much did all of that stuff for me. And I know you don't want to talk about it—”

“Sam, you really don’t have to—”

“No, I do.” He stops and grabs Dean’s arm, forcing him to stop and face his brother in the middle of the marketplace. “Thank you. It couldn’t have been easy all those years trying to keep me from getting killed whenever dad was off doing some crazy shit. I didn’t really think about it before, but now, everything you did and had to do, it feels more obvious. Especially considering, you know, the future.” Something was off about Sam’s voice and Dean searched his face until it suddenly clicked. 

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” 

“Holy shit.”

Sam broke into a grin. “Don’t tell Eileen I told you. It’s still kinda early.”

“Oh my god Sam,” He surged forward and threw his arms around his brother, the hug returned just as tightly. They held on for a moment, Dean’s head spinning with the knowledge that Jack would have a cousin sometime soon. 

They broke apart and Dean asked, “Wait, can I tell Cas?” 

Sam winced. “You know when you went to bed early yesterday?” 

“Unbelievable. My own brother.” 

They eventually caught up with Cas, who immediately shoved a small sample spoon in Dean’s direction. Dean winced at the excessive sweetness while Cas paid for two jars. Jack reached for Sam’s sample and Dean grabbed his wrist. “Sorry buddy, no honey.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Several studies have linked honey to cases of infant botulism, actually.” Cas handed a squirming Jack to Dean as he dug through the backpack Dean was wearing full of baby supplies they took on outings, pulling out a baggie of sliced strawberries. “Let’s find a table.” 

Once they found a table that was in the shade and only mildly gross-looking, Dean decided Sam should take a turn feeding Jack. “For practice.”

“I literally helped feed him this morning.” Despite his protests, Sam settled Jack inside his stroller and tried to coax him into eating a strawberry, getting more of it on his face than in his mouth. Dean suppressed a laugh at the disgruntled look on Sam’s face, and turned to Cas when he felt his hand cover his own. 

“I see Sam told you the news.” Dean flipped his hand and intertwined their fingers. A slow smile spread across Cas’s face, lighting him up so bright it was nearly blinding. Dean couldn’t look away, remembering how he used to walk the paths of this very farmers market with a foot of space between the two of them, only moving into Cas’s space to pass Jack back and forth. And now he was holding hands with his sweetheart for the world to see. 

He cleared his throat. “I see you already knew the news. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” 

“What can I say?” Cas shrugged with false modesty. “Sam knows that I'm more trustworthy.” 

“Actually,” Sam chimed in, “I’m surprised Cas didn’t tell you already.” 

“Ha!” Dean crowed with triumph while Cas accused Sam of treachery. 

Eventually they were back to wandering aimlessly around the market, Dean and Cas having bought everything they usually picked up on their weekly supply run. Dean hadn’t realized that they had become regulars until a fourth vendor called them over by name and they had to introduce Sam, whose eyebrows seemed to climb higher and higher on his face for each person he met. 

“We’ll see you next week Katie! Oh no, you really don’t have to—” Cas was trying to hand back the picture book the vendor of the largest bookstand was trying to give to him and Sam snorted. 

“You guys really made an impression, huh?” 

Dean shrugged with one shoulder, Jack slumped half-asleep on the other one, cowboy hat and boots now in the backpack. “The kid helps break the ice.” 

“Pa.” Jack reached a hand out and Dean held it, Jack settling once he had the small bit of comfort. 

“Hey buddy, you wanna fall asleep in the stroller instead?” Jack’s tightened grip on his hand and neck was an answer in itself and Dean sighed, knowing they'd have to wait till Jack was a bit more asleep before he could be extracted from Dean. 

Cas eventually returned and they began the trek back to the entrance and the car. On the way back, Cas suddenly grabbed Dean’s arm and he jumped, adrenaline pumping as Jack made an unhappy noise at being jostled. “Dean.” His voice was so serious that Dean could see Sam’s hand going under his jacket where he usually kept a blade.

“What?” Cas pointed to the side of the market aisle, and Dean followed his gaze, expecting a vampire, or a werewolf, or a demon, or some other creature they somehow hadn’t encountered yet.

Instead, Cas’s finger pointed at a sign that read in neat block letters: FREE KITTENS. 

A few hours later Dean very slowly wrote honey onto his list, careful not to dislodge the extremely tiny black kitten dosing on his shoulder. 

*        *        *

According to the nice lady at the kitten booth, cats thrive better in pairs. Dean was pretty sure she was just trying to get rid of more of the squirming jellybean-looking things, but when one let out a pathetic little mewing noise when Cas ran a cautious finger down its back, Dean felt himself break at the delighted look on Cas’s face.

But now Dean had to dodge not one, but two fuzzballs weaving between his legs when he tried to do pretty much anything, one jet black and the other black with gray and orange splotches. Claire had been thrilled to know that they were both girls, though she attempted to appear indifferent and only cooed at them when she thought no one else was in the room. Dean had video evidence on his phone though, and was very excited to use it as blackmail next time she sent the group chat that video of Dean crying while watching Mamma Mia.  

Dean also tried to remain aloof but within 24 hours his phone background had somehow turned into a picture of Cas taken the first time the kittens had both curled up in his lap, barely-contained excitement splashed across his face. His lockscreen was now a picture of a dozing Jack flanked by the kittens napping on either side, but Claire had really liked that picture so she wouldn’t make fun of him too much. 

Probably. He still didn’t know what a ‘simp’ was but she kept saying it to him on her impromptu trip to make sure Dean hadn’t been possessed by a cat-loving demon. Kaia, as usual, had been far more pleasant to talk to. 

The three tiniest members of the household had taken a moment to get used to each other, Jack apparently unsure what to do with a stuffed animal that could move and make noise. But they tolerated each other well enough, though there was a unanimous decision to keep the kittens out of the nursery. 

They were welcome in the kitchen though, which is how Cas found Dean arguing with one on a Sunday morning. They hadn’t gotten around to naming them yet, so they’d been referring to one as the ‘loud one’ and the other as the ‘good one’. Cas disapproved of this methodology but the jet black kitten seemed to thrive off of attention and demanded it with incessant meowing. And scrambled eggs, which was the reason Dean was gesturing wildly with a spatula in front of the stove while the kitten sat on the floor and meowed indignantly back. 

“You’ve already had three pieces!” 

“Meow!” 

“You act like we don’t feed you.” 

“Meow.”

“Okay, that’s just rude—Hey! Do not swipe at me!” 

The very intellectual conversation was interrupted by Cas lifting the kitten and giving her a smooch on the forehead, the cat immediately melting into his touch. Dean put his hands on his hips and felt like a petulant toddler. Or a fussy housewife. 

“Don’t encourage her!”

Cas glared at Dean reproachfully. “Leonardo’s done nothing wrong. You just keep feeding her  unhealthy foods and she’s becoming accustomed to it.” 

“Eggs were on the list of snacks we could give them and I gave it to her before I added salt,” Dean said dismissively, more concerned about, “Wait, Leonardo? Like the ninja turtle? Or diCaprio?”

“I was thinking of da Vinci but I suppose those work too.” 

“But she’s a girl.”

Cas pursed his lips in an unimpressed look. “Dean, you must know gender is of no consequence to me.”

Dean let out an exaggerated sigh, expressing his displeased acceptance of the name. “Fine, but I call dibs on the other one.” 

The silence that met the statement had Dean accusingly point the spatula at Cas’s faux innocent expression. “I can’t believe you would betray me like this.” 

Cas’s eyes brightened. “Actually, Sam is the one who betrayed you.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

Dean felt something soft brush his toes and reached down to scoop the other kitten, reaching over to flip the bacon once she was settled against his chest. He could hear the shutter of Cas’s phone camera and turned to scowl at him. The kitten purred against his chest. 

“It’s just like him to name a kitten and escape immediately. What’d he decide on?”

“Ruth.” 

At Dean’s blank stare he elaborated, “Like Ruth Bader Ginsberg.” 

“Isn’t she some government lady?” 

“She was a justice on the supreme court, so I suppose so, yes.” Cas made his way to the pantry and picked out one of the treat packets they had splurged on while Dean judged Sam.

“Kid goes to law school for ten minutes and this happens.” Dean makes a considerable noise. “Well, I suppose Claire is always telling us Jack needs strong female roles in his life.”

Cas laughed behind him and Dean smiled, grabbing one of the treats for Ruth, who ate it neatly and meowed in thanks. He turned back to the stove, carefully arranging the finished eggs atop the plate of pancakes he had already made, bacon on the side. 

Eventually Cas returned with Jack and they decided to eat breakfast in the yard, the day bright with just a few clouds scattered across the sky. 

They ventured outside and the trees rustled, a few stray leaves fluttering onto the picnic table in the backyard as the dappled sunlight provided ample shade for them to eat without being burned to a crisp. Dean fitted Jack with his sunhat as Cas adjusted the high chair to fit neatly at the end of the table.

The breeze was strong enough that Dean hiked down to the shore and to pick up a few sizable rocks to hold down the corners of the picnic blanket Cas had brought out for the table. The damp dirt sunk slightly under his boots as he paused to watch a mother duck float by with her ducklings in a neat line. Dean pulled out his phone and snapped a photo to send to Jody with the caption It’s you and the girls. 

Jack was cheerfully covering himself in banana mush and pancakes by the time Dean returned. He was babbling to himself and occasionally peppered in a word from his rapidly growing vocabulary, with today’s favorite being “banana”. Cas was staring at him with a wistful expression as Dean gingerly sat down opposite him, wincing as the bench creaked loudly. 

Dean nudged his foot with his own. “What’s up?”

Cas attempted to school his face into neutral expression, but immediately abandoned the effort when Dean just raised his eyebrows. “You know that I think Jack allowing himself to be a child was a good thing.”

“Yeah.” Dean said slowly.

“And I’m glad we get to raise him and help him experience life in a new way.” 

“Yeah, Cas, I am too.”

Cas sighed helplessly. “I don’t know, I just sometimes wish I could talk to our Jack. I love this Jack but sometimes I want to show him a funny video or know what he would’ve named the cats.” He pauses and continues softly. “I miss my kid.” 

The lump in Dean’s throat made it difficult to speak. “Yeah, I get it. I—There’s—I wish I had spent more time with him, or apologized more, and it feels weird cause he’s right there, but it’s not him.” 

Dean didn’t know how to say that the other day he had opened up his old text thread with Jack, the old Jack, and typed up a response to the last text he’d gotten from him. His thumb had been hovering over the send button when the wave of realization and loss hit him.  

“Yeah.” Cas pulled his cardigan tighter around himself, “It’s like we’re mourning someone that’s right in front of us. It feels wrong somehow, to be grieving him when he’s right here.”  

Jack of the present seemed to realize that something was wrong, as he was looking back and forth between his parents, relatively quiet for once. Then he picked up a chunk of banana, and offered it to Cas with a solemn, “Bana.”

“Thank you Jack.” Cas begrudgingly popped the smushed fruit into his mouth. Dean chuckled despite himself and shook his head at Cas’s questioning expression. 

“Nothing—it’s just—do you remember the first time he tried banana bread?” 

Cas groaned. “I told him not to eat so much. I was sure he’d puke out his actual intestines.” 

“At least it’s not as bad as that time he got so drunk that he kept playing with the lights in the bunker with his powers.” 

“Yeah,” Cas paused. “We shouldn’t have let him drink. He was still just a child.” Cas looked off over the lake, his face awash in the glow from the morning light reflecting off the surface. The breeze ruffled his hair and Dean’s heart ached. 

“Cas—no— I shouldn’t have let him drink. I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard, I shouldn’t have made him think he owed us or the world anything.” 

Cas stared at Dean and for a brief moment Dean felt the weight of the millenia the man before him had lived. He could see the wings and ire and pain and grandiosity of it all. Then the light shifted and he dissolved back into a dude in a frumpy sweater who got annoyed when he was woken up before 9 AM.

Cas’s fork dropped onto his plate with a clang as he reached over to grasp Dean’s trembling hand. “You’re right.”

“No, Cas, I—wait, what?” 

Cas smiled humorlessly. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have behaved like that. You shouldn’t have treated Jack, or me, or even Sam the way you did most of the time.” He leaned forward as Dean held his breath. “But have you considered that perhaps dwelling so heavily in the past is only going to keep you trapped there?”

Cas sat back and squeezed Dean's hand. It took a second, but Dean eventually found his voice, “But how do I make sure I don’t mess up again if I don’t remember everything that happened to us. Everything that happened to him.” 

They both looked over at Jack, who looked up to wave gleefully and went back to his mashed pancakes, banana residue all over his face. Dean let go of Cas’s hand to grab a napkin and dunk it in his water glass, wiping down Jack’s face with the damp cloth as he whined and tried to wiggle out of reach. 

Dean turned back to Cas, who had a thoughtful expression on his face. “I think we have to do both.” He elaborated at Dean’s skeptical look. “I mean, you’re preoccupied with the bad, but you're forgetting about all the good. Like, that time you drove two towns over to pick up a Finding Nemo dvd bc the internet was down in the bunker and Jack wanted to watch it. Or spent the day teaching him to drive.  Or even that birthday cake you made him.” Cas ran a hand through his hair, making Dean want to sink his fingers into it. 

“At the end of the day all we can do is try to be better. You’re probably gonna mess up a lot, but so will I. That’s just the nature of humanity.” 

Cas picked up his fork but something still irked Dean. “Why did you stay then? If you knew that I was a mess.” 

Cas considered this for a moment, chewing a piece of bacon as he did so. He swallowed and said, “I think loving someone just kind of makes you stupid. For so long I hadn’t wanted anything. And when I found you I would’ve done anything to keep you.” Cas glanced at Jack and back at Dean almost defiantly. “But I don’t think I would do it again. No matter how old he looked.” 

Dean was expecting the comment to sting, but his head flooded with relief. He wanted to be certain that he wouldn’t intentionally fall back into his old habits but he knew that the anger that used to simmer right below the surface of his skin was still a bit too close to his fingertips for him to ever feel safe.

He wanted Jack to feel safe. Even if it wasn’t with him.

Dean said as much to Cas and surprisingly received a fond smile. “Dean, the fact that you know that is proof enough that I made the right choice. You can feel anger and hate and all of those negative emotions and not have it impact everything you do.” Cas hesitated. “I know you’ve never said anything, but I noticed we don't have a drop of alcohol in the house.”

It was a clear opening and Dean took it. “I didn’t remember much during—after the—you know. The crypt. I needed to take the edge off and it just—kind of got—” He cleared his throat  and stared at the grain of the wood as Cas reached over to grab his hand. Dean clutched it like a lifeline. “Apparently I scared Sam pretty bad. He doesn’t really—it didn't—let's just say it got real bad. Then we got you back and Jack decided to Dorian Gray himself and I was holding him as a tiny little thing. And I just—I couldn’t do that to him.” Couldn’t do what happened to me.

Dean’s disjointed explanation didn’t feel adequate to Dean’s own ears but Cas was beaming. “Don’t you see, Dean? You are trying. You’ve been trying. And that’s what Jack needs.” His nose crinkled when he looked over at their son. “I think he also needs a bath.” 

Dean blinked at the abrupt subject change and then groaned as he stood and gently extracted Jack, who had managed to get himself covered in food yet again. Jack grinned and smacked the side of Dean’s face with a banana-covered hand as Cas chuckled at Dean’s grimace. 

The gravel crunched loudly as he made his way back to the house. The wind was picking up slightly, sneaking under Dean’s thin t-shirt and swirling around him as he tugged Jack’s hat a bit lower on his head and snuggled him closer to his chest. He turned when he reached the top of the porch steps to see that Cas was meandering in the opposite direction to the edge of the lake, the bottom of his pajamas rolled to his knees. From the distance Dean could just barely see Cas dip his toes into the water tentatively, as though checking the temperature, then a whole foot, then two. Pretty soon the water was lapping at the middle of Cas’s calf as he stood and gazed across the lake. 

The morning sun had kept climbing and was now a bright reflection on the surface of the water, harsh if not for the sleepy ex-angel standing in front of the glare. The edges of Cas’s figure were blown out by the light behind him, framing him in a halo-like glow. He looked like a miracle.

Dean could’ve stood there for hours staring at him and likely would have if not for the child in his arms, a miracle in it of himself. He took one last glance at Cas, now bending to brush his fingertips at the surface on the water, and turned to walk back into the house. 

Pancakes made it onto the list sometime after Jack’s quick bath and before lunch. 

*        *        *

“Um, are there supposed to be paper bags on that plant?” 

Dean looked up from where he was holding a squirming Ruth. She had tricked them all into thinking she was the innocent and sweet one of the two kittens, but the second Sam accidentally left the back door unlocked she had slipped out, turning what was supposed to be a normal and calm dinner into a frantic search for the tiny creature. 

Sam had been on the verge of tears at the thought of losing the kitten and Dean was wondering if Eileen’s pregnancy hormones were somehow rubbing off onto him. They had only had the kittens for a couple months so neither Dean nor Cas blamed Sam for forgetting, but he still seemed eaten up by guilt.

Dean turned his attention to the particular plant Sam was pointing at and realized it was the grape vine. “Oh, the birds were eating the grapes.” 

“And you can just...cover them?” 

Dean laughed, then winced as Ruth tried to scratch at him. “Yeah, it was kinda depressing to watch Cas find the fucked up grapes everyday so I looked up how to stop it. Can we—ow! Ruth, what the fuck?” She meowed at him petulantly and he meowed back mockingly. 

Sam was stifling a laugh when Dean looked back up. “Do you wanna head back inside?”

“Yeah.” Dean grouched, cradling Ruth, who had the audacity to start purring and rubbing her face against his chest. 

The wind had started up in the time they had spent looking for Ruth, cutting at their faces as the duo trudged their way back to the house. Dean unzipped his hoodie so Ruth could climb in next to his warmth, and then zipped it back up, supporting her body enough so her little face was poking out the front of the jacket. Sam laughed loudly and waved a hand so Dean would stop and let him take a picture. 

Dean begrudgingly allowed it, standing still. He looked up on a whim and his jaw dropped. The impending sunset painted streaks of colour across the sky, the clouds wispy and glowing golden in the light. The trees rustled and a few leaves landed on the lake’s rippling reflection of the sky. Sam whistled lowly behind him, impressed, and Dean had to agree.

Then Ruth squirmed and they begrudgingly made their way up the back steps, turning back to take another look. Sam tried to take a picture but complained that it didn't look the same. 

Eventually they did make it into the warmth of the house and, after making sure the door was locked, he released Ruth, who shook herself off and primly walked to the back of the house where her cat bed and litter box were. Not that she used the bed, opting instead for a shoe box Cas had initially planned on recycling.

Dean was shrugging off his hoodie when Sam asked, “Wait, but don’t the grapes need light to grow?”

Dean rolled his eyes, unsurprised that Sam was still thinking about the grapes, the big nerd. He leaned over to open the blinds and let in some of the golden light as he answered, “Apparently, all the photosynthesis mumbo-jumbo happens in the leaves, not the actual fruit, so as long as the leaves get enough light, the grapes will be fine.”

Sam didn’t respond, and when Dean looked over at him questioningly he saw a surprised look on his face. “Wow, you really researched this huh?”

“Yeah, well,” Dean’s ears burned as he looked down at the floor. “It made Cas happy, so. Yeah.”

He ventured a glance up at Sam’s face, which had melted into a dopey grin. “Dean, that’s so sweet.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No I’m serious, that’s so cute. Do you want a hug? Now that you’re in love and all.”

“No, Sam what the—get the fuck off of me you asshole.” 

“But Dean, Cas isn’t here, what if you go into cuddle withdrawal?”

“I’m gonna beat your ass.” 

Cas eventually came downstairs to the sight of Sam sitting on Dean’s back triumphantly, the two kittens joining him while Dean muttered about traitors under his breath. 

Once all wounds had been licked and apologies doled out, Dean snuck upstairs before dinner to add grapes to his list.

*        *        *

The Dr. Sexy reboot wasn’t very good but after staying up until four in the morning while Jack ran a fever Dean’s standards were tragically low. Cas was convinced Jack had caught a bug at the farmers market, despite the fact that they hadn’t made it to another one since Sam had visited weeks ago.  

Jack had finally gone down for his afternoon nap once his fever broke and Dean was in the mood to turn his brain off. Which is why it took a second to register Cas calling from atop the staircase, “Dean, where’s the Rubiks cube?”

“Why do you—nevermind, it’s in the top drawer of my dresser.”

“Thank you.”

Dean turned back to the TV but a moment later the words sunk in and his blood ran cold. He leapt up, ignoring his body’s protests at the rushed movements and bounded up the stairs, skipping every other step in his haste. The door to the master bedroom was ajar and Dean slammed it open, yelling, “Wait, Cas, hold on!”

But it was too late, Cas stood by the dresser with a small leather notebook in his hand, open to where a scrap of paper was marking a very specific section. 

“Cas—”

“Dean, what is this?” His voice was trembling slightly and Dean panicked. 

“It’s nothing, it’s really not a big deal—”

Cas looked up and the distraught look on his face made Dean take a step forward, but paused when Cas himself took a step back. “ Reasons to Live.  I don’t understand. Why—what do you need a list for?” 

This time, Dean stepped forward and gently pulled Cas over to sit on the bed next to Dean. Cas’s legs curled up and he looped his arms around his knees. Dean’s hands hovered over Cas’s clenched hands but he felt as though they had reverted back to the tentative state from right after Cas returned from the Empty, wanting desperately to touch but afraid it was too much or not enough. He decided against it, hands falling back to his sides, the space between them feeling like miles. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, so I was going to tell you, but I know you would freak out—”

“Well, I apologize if the idea of you needing a list of reasons to remind you not to get yourself killed might make a rational person ‘freak out’.” 

Dean winced at the sarcasm in Cas’s tone. “Okay, okay, sorry, wrong choice of words. I knew you would want an entire explanation and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to give you one that made any sense.” He took a bracing breath and startled slightly when Cas intertwined their fingers. 

“So. You remember how I said things got really bad before we got you back? I, well, Sam kinda made me talk to someone. Like a—a therapist.” Cas’s eyebrows flew up and Dean laughed in spite of himself. “Yeah, I know. I always thought it was kinda, I don’t know, girly? Don’t tell Claire I said that, she’ll kick my ass. But I thought it would be a lot of just talking about my feelings and whatever, but he kept giving me tasks and things to work on. One of them was the list.”

Cas’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, so did you talk about the apocalypse and all this,” Cas waved his arm around. “Or did you just make up a story?” 

“Oh, it was a guy who was married to a guy who used to be a hunter. Sam tracked him down. I think Sam might actually still talk to him, but I stopped. Kept up with the list though. It was only supposed to be a few things but I kept thinking of stuff to add.” 

Cas was quiet for a moment. “So what was the purpose of the list?”

“It’s supposed to be a gratitude thing. About things you like about life and being alive and it’s supposed to make you appreciate stuff you might not think about that often. I don’t know, it sounds stupid, but it’s been helping. I think.” 

Cas squeezed his hand. “It’s not stupid. I’m really glad that this is working for you. Wait,” Cas gestured at the notebook with his unoccupied hand. “Is this what you were talking about when you said that writing helps you?”

Dean nodded, leaning over into Cas, who let go of his hand and draped his arm over Dean’s shoulder, hand straying to the unruly hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck. “I started with journal entries but I couldn’t get the words to sound like what I needed them to. But I knew the lists helped so I just kept going.” 

They sat there for a moment, the room silent but for Jack’s gentle breathing through the baby monitor. Cas hand paused combing through Dean’s hair and Dean lifted his head from Cas’s shoulder questioningly.

Cas just shook his head. “I was wondering...could I read it? The list, I mean?”

Panic rose like bile in Dean’s throat but he tamped it down to say, “Sure.”

Cas slowly perused the list, pausing every now and then. Dean tried to distract himself by staring at the lake outside the window, but that just reminded him that he’d written down ‘lake’ as one of his reasons. He eventually settled on watching Cas carefully mouth every item on the list, losing himself in the curve of Cas’s cheek, the slope of his nose, the unruly bits of hair that snuck their way onto his forehead. 

Dean was so entranced that he jumped slightly when his vision was met by bright blue eyes. Cas smiled and the tension in Dean’s shoulders melted away.

“So, you don’t think it’s weird?”

Cas shook his head. “I think it’s wonderful, Dean. I particularly liked the entry ‘Cas’s ass’. Very flattering.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and stood from the bed, arms stretching and mouth opening in a jaw-cracking yawn. Cas’s hand wormed it’s way into the space where Dean’s shirt rode up, placing his palm flat on Dean’s bare back and making him yelp. “Hey! Why are your hands always so fucking cold?”

Cas laughed and also got up, arms wrapping around Dean’s waist. “I can’t help it. I don’t have my grace to heat me up anymore.” He gave Dean a look resembling a kicked puppy but Dean rolled his eyes.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” 

Cas scowled but it fell into a fond look when Dean pulled him closer by the waist. 

“I do have a question, though.”

Ignoring the jolt of anxiety at Cas’s words, Dean says, “Shoot.”

Cas hesitated and Dean ran a hand up and down his spine, offering some semblance of comfort. “Why aren’t there any people on your list? I went through it twice but there’s no ‘Sam’, no ‘Jack’, no ‘Eileen’”. The No Castiel went unspoken.

Dean thought for a moment. “I don’t need to write them down.” He shrugged helplessly. ”You’re all obvious.”

Cas’s face turned so soft that Dean was almost glad when Jack began whimpering through the baby monitor and Cas left to attend to him after a quick peck on the lips. Dean could handle the reality of Cas being in love with his dumb ass most days but sometimes it was like staring into the sun and Dean had to look away to keep from melting. 

He picked up the notebook and ambled over to the dresser, tucking it back into the drawer next to the Rubik's cube that Cas had clearly forgotten about. He then took a deep breath, realized he was smiling so hard his face hurt, tried to stop smiling, then gave up to pull his phone out and text Sam. 

*        *        *

Sometimes Dean would awaken in the middle of the night. 

Jack was an obvious reason, as well as nightmares, though as time went on those instances tapered off. Occasionally the existential terror of realizing he was going to actually age and grow old and eventually wither away would gnaw at him, a foreign concept he had never let himself even consider now likely to be his reality. 

Other times Cas would wake up hard and wanting and Dean had no problem sacrificing some sleep to watch Cas come undone in the dim light. 

Sometimes the sky just looked pretty and he sat on the floor in front of the window and watched as the stars glittering above. 

And sometimes he woke up with Cas still passed out, glued to his side. He was a leech for warmth at any given hour, leaning his front to Dean’s back while Dean was cooking, tucking his feet under Dean’s legs when they sprawled on the couch watching a movie, hogging the heated blanket Jody had gifted them as a housewarming present. But at night it seemed the little inhibition he had left would disappear, as Dean often woke up with Cas as a second blanket. 

In the early days it had been near unbearable, the sweltering room combined with a sweaty body as well as Dean’s apprehension at having Cas so close resulted in a relatively comfortable experience. The only reason Dean hadn't shoved him off was because the concept of Cas wanting to share a bed with him in the first place was so precious that the thought of pushing him away made his chest ache. 

On cooler nights it felt like a miracle had snuck its way into Dean’s bed and under the covers. Dean had seen Cas’s face furious and thrilled and heartbroken, but he had never let himself fathom what Cas would look like in the late hours of night, contentedly snoring against Dean’s own collarbone.

Moments like these Dean would lose hours cataloging the exact placement of Cas’s eyebrow hairs, the divot in his chin, the stray stubble hairs he always seemed to miss when shaving. 

And some nights, like tonight, he was struck with the earth-shattering revelation that Cas loved him. Little rinky-dink Dean Winchester, from Nowhere, Kansas. Half the time Dean put on a shirt it was inside out and Cas had looked at him and his weird habits and his pie addiction and laid down the infinite power of the heavens just to lie down next to him. Over and over. Because he loved him. 

Cas must have some sort of sixth sense that Dean was having a mental breakdown while he slept because he suddenly shifted and his eyes squinted open. He grumbled, “Wha’s hap’n?” 

“Cas, you love me.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Like you’re in love with me.” 

“Mmm.” 

Dean’s head fell back against the pillow and he stared up at the ceiling. “Holy fuck.” 

“Didja wake me up jus’ for this?” Cas’s gravelly voice was offset by annoyance, but Dean had other priorities. 

“Cas, I love you too.” 

“Dean, I know.” 

“Like, I’m in love with you.” 

“I’m goin’ back t’sleep.” He turned over to what was supposed to his side of the bed, but Dean knew he’d be cocooned around him again in a few hours. 

Dean just reached over and put his palm flat on Cas’s back, feeling his breathing. He grinned and turned his face into his pillow, trying to smother the wild fluttering in his stomach. He trailed his finger in the shape of a heart on Cas’s back and eventually drifted off to a dreamless sleep. 

Dean woke the next morning to an empty bed with a post-it note stuck to his forehead, a heart  drawn on with a sharpie in the center of it.  

*        *        *

The nature of raising a child meant that Dean and Cas had managed to go on a total of three dates so far. It was a delicate dance, usually involving Sam and Eileen driving over to pick up Jack, hours of inevitable anxiety that Jack had somehow gotten grievously injured, and the date cut short with Jack back in their arms. Sam was relatively happy to field the concerned calls and take Jack for the night, since he maintained that even an eight-month-old child was less annoying than Dean and Cas when they were unable to keep their hands to themselves. 

While Dean was extremely grateful for Sam’s help, leaving Jack behind felt like getting an organ removed. Every excursion felt like he had forgotten something, looking around for his kid whenever it slipped his mind for a moment. 

But stepping out of the car into the golden field with a folded picnic blanket made it almost worth it. Almost. Dean could still picture Jack’s little eyes widening at the view of the stream and vast expanse of rolling hills that seemed to extend for as far as he could see. A familiar windmill was standing near the stream but Cas took them in the opposite direction. 

Dean had been apprehensive about returning to the place he had scattered Cas’s ashes, cringing as he recalled a lot of screaming and sobbing and untoward language towards every deity he could think of.

But for Cas, it was the first shining light he had seen after what felt like an eternity of darkness. It was where he had been reborn. 

Cas’s hands were occupied with a picnic basket as he effortlessly walked through the waist-high weeds, following an indecipherable path he seemed to remember off the top of his head. 

Dean’s walk was significantly less pleasant. 

“Ow—OW—Cas, how is nothing poking you?” Dean could somehow feel the stinging through his jeans, the brambles seemingly going out of their way to adhere to Dean’s flesh. He paused to unstick a wayward branch from his ankle, hissing as he did so, and when he stood to move forward a low-hanging branch smacked him in the face. 

Cas, who had apparently ducked under it, giggled at him. 

Dean almost forgot about how uncomfortable he was in the light of the carefree noise from Cas, but then a bee buzzed by and Dean swore violently, 

“Dean, can you please hurry up?” 

Dean crossed his arms and grumbled under his breath, “The movie theater wouldn’t have had this many bugs.” 

Cas ignored him and ventured further into the woods, eventually stopping so abruptly that Dean walked into him. He was steadied by Dean’s hand on his shoulder, then turned his head to point out, “It was my turn to choose and besides,” He jerked his chin to point in front of him. “We’re here.”

The clearing in front of them was almost glowing in the light, the grass glistening with the remnants of the early morning dew. The stream was audible but not visible, likely behind the trees that lined the meadow in sporadic clusters. Impressive. Not impressive enough to justify Dean having to fight for his life through the wild undergrowth but impressive, nonetheless.

Cas walked over to a tree with adequate shade and stood patiently, waiting for Dean to spread the blanket for Cas to finally set the basket down on. It was a stereotypical red and white checkered blanket, and Dean smiled to himself, wondering if Cas had googled the correct blanket to bring on a picnic date with your baby daddy. 

They settled onto the blanket, Dean’s knees heavily protesting the movement. He figured he couldn't complain too much, since he never thought he was going to live long enough to have joint pain in the first place.

Meanwhile Cas was unloading sandwiches and cookies and napkins and all kinds of other stuff he hadn’t let Dean help him with. Dean whistled lowly at the bottle of wine Cas set next to the blanket and Cas exaggeratedly flourished as he pulled out two wine glasses.

Dean groaned as he bit into his sandwich, a BLT with the perfect amount of mayo and Cas smiled smugly. Dean had him semi-banned from certain areas of the kitchen after the waffle incident when Jack was three months old, but clearly Cas had been finding a way to practice. 

They polished off their sandwiches quickly while idly discussing the merits of the newest Batman movie and Dean was halfway through a seran-wrapped piece of pie when he noticed Cas fidgeting, suddenly quiet. He swallowed and asked, “Cas, you good?

Cas seemed unable to make eye contact and Dean was struck with the sudden thought that Cas was breaking up with him. Cas looked up and seemed to read that on his face, as he grabbed Dean’s hand and said seriously, “Dean, this isn’t something bad.” Which calmed Dean down, but not by a lot. 

He waited apprehensively as Cas pulled himself together. “Dean,” He paused,then started again. “Dean. Hello.” 

Dean had to resist the hysterical urge to laugh. “Cas. Hello.”

Cas shot him an unimpressed look and Dean tamped down the urge to squirm under his gaze, trying to give Cas room to say what he needed to. 

Cas took a breath. “Dean, being human has been extremely difficult.”

Which wasn’t what Dean was expecting but he tried to keep an open mind as Cas continued, “There’s so much pain and anger and suffering all of the time, and I don’t understand how so many of you manage to make it this far. But the hardest part for me has always been other people. There’s so much about body language and interpersonal interactions that I’m afraid I’ll never fully comprehend. But most humans tend to find their ‘people’.” He did little one-handed quotation marks and Dean was taken aback by how endearing he still found it. 

“And I was worried I wouldn't find them. I wanted my people. My family. The other angels could probably tell—Naomi could definitely tell—even when I didn't know that’s what I wanted.” He looks into the distance for a moment, lost in thought. Dean rubs a thumb across the back of Cas’s hand, unsure how to comfort him. 

“I think I have it now, with Jack and Sam and Claire, and everyone who’s shown me a moment of kindness. But it all started when I pulled you from hell.” He looks directly at Dean. “And I found my person.” 

Dean's head spun as his hands were suddenly empty, Cas standing and rummaging through the picnic basket. “Uh, Cas? What—”

Cas made a little triumphant noise under his breath when he finally pulled out what he had been looking for. Dean spotted the palm-sized black box and his brain immediately short-circuited. 

Then Cas got down on one knee and Dean panicked, blurting out, “No!”

Cas faltered, his face shifting to one bordering on devastation. “No?”

“No! I mean not no , obviously it’s yes, but,” Dean scrambled as Cas began to look at Dean like he was speaking a foreign language. Which was actually kinda funny cause Cas can speak every language, Dean thought hysterically. 

“I—I’m sorry Dean, I thought we had talked about this—”

Dean jumped up from the blanket. “No, wait, Cas, just hold on.” He held one hand in front of him to try and convince Cas to stay in place while the other scoured frantically through the pockets of his jacket he had thrown to the side. 

“Okay, but Dean, my knee is really starting to hurt—”

Dean’s hand brushed the velvet box he was looking for. “Got it!” He spun around and attempted to sink down onto one knee, and instead quickly collapsed, his legs no longer accustomed to quick movements after almost nine months of quiet nights in and early morning feedings.  

“Dean!” Cas scrambled to help him back into a seated position. Despite the warm morning Dean could feel the cold ground through the blanket and his shirt, accompanied by a gentle throbbing where he’d hit the ground. They ended up with Dean sitting cross legged in front of a kneeling and concerned Cas. “Are you alright?” 

Dean swallowed, remembering the box in his hand, trying not to peek at the identical one sitting on the ground in front of him.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just panicked.”

Cas’s brows furrowed. “Why?” He glanced down and Dean could see the moment he realized what Dean was clutching in one trembling hand. Cas hand flew to his mouth. “Oh my—Dean!”

Cas looked like he was on the verge of passing out, which Dean wasn't sure how to interpret. He took a breath. “I mean, I wish this was happening at the restaurant we were going to later tonight but I guess we don’t always get what we want, huh?” 

Cas looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Are you sure?”

Dean’s heart clenched. “Cas, of course.” He opened the box and heard Cas’s breath hitch. 

Dean had dragged Sam to four ring stores and remained unsatisfied until they had wandered into a pawn shop, Dean’s eyes immediately honing in on the display case. The ring was silver and molded to look like two wings wrapping around the finger wearing it. Before Sam could ask if he was sure, the ring was purchased, placed in a box Claire found online, and tucked into Dean’s jacket, finally seeing the light of day weeks later. 

Dean nudged Cas with his foot, forcing him to make eye contact. “I know I can’t give you back your wings, but I can give you what you gave them up for. You can have me, if you'll take me.”

Cas barely managed to nod and Dean’s eyes slid close from relief, surprised to feel a tear slipping out. 

Dean cleared his throat but it didn't help how wrecked he sounded when he said, “For the record, you’re my person too.”

Cas’s perpetually cold hands threaded themselves into Dean’s hair, their lips meeting, tears mingling on their cheeks as they kissed. Dean was trying to keep it PG but he found his hands sneaking under Cas’s sweater, his shirt, his mouth moving to Cas’s jaw as Cas tilted his head back and groaned. Cas’s hands found the buttons of the semi-nice shirt Dean had bought to look somewhat presentable for their date, and had managed to unbutton the top one when he abruptly pulled away, which was only mildly effective considering he had clambered half onto Dean’s lap at this point. 

“Wha—What’s wrong?”

Cas looked amused by Dean’s dazed response, and reminded him, “The rings, Dean.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Cas made his way off of Dean, but stayed in his space, knees brushing as he sat directly in front of him. His hair was gloriously mussed up and his shirt was crooked but the grin he was aiming at Dean was brighter than the sun. 

Dean reached one hand to grab the box which had been tossed to the side and the other to grab Cas’s left hand. He gingerly opened the box with one hand, but Cas snatched his hand away. “Hey!”

Cas was already turned around and patting down the picnic blanket, making a relieved “Ah!” noise once he found the box holding the other ring—Dean’s ring. Dean could feel his face heating up in spite of himself. An engagement ring was such a feminine concept in his head, a pretty ring for a pretty girl, not for him, who’s probably broken every finger in his hand a couple of times over. 

Then Cas opened the box and Dean’s breath caught. 

The ring was simple, a skinny line etched around the circumference. It was strikingly familiar, and Dean’s voice was unsteady when he realized, “That—is that mom’s ring?” 

Cas ducked his head “It’s not the same ring, no. When I went shopping this one just looked...right.” He paused, the hand that came up to run through his hair shaking slightly. “I know that ring had a lot of history for you. But this one is yours. It’s legacy is yours, but it’s familiar enough that you’ll still remember your mom. I didn’t know if—is that okay?” Cas’s eyes were wide with worry and Dean reached out to cup his face, feeling him lean into it. 

“Yeah, Cas, it’s perfect.” Cas smiled and reached for Dean’s hand, who was the one to snatch his hand back this time.

“Wait, no, I asked first,” Dean barreled through Cas’s look of bewilderment, “So I get to put your ring on you first.”

Cas squinted. “Actually, I was the one who got down on one knee, so by that logic I was first.”

“Well,” Dean fished around for a reason, “I had the idea first.” 

Cas crossed his arms. ‘Well, I saw you first.”

“That’s—okay that’s fair actually.” Cas rolled his eyes and held a hand out for Dean to put his into. 

The cool metal slid into place and Dean could vaguely feel his face ache from smiling as hard as he was. He stared at the ring, head spinning, for long enough that Cas had to nudge his knee. When he looked up Cas was smiling back, with a look of near disbelief on his face. 

Dean leaned forward and what was supposed to be a short kiss deepened until Cas had to put his hands on Dean’s chest to gently nudge him backwards. Dean made grabby hands and Cas delicately placed his hand in Dean’s.

Dean studied it for a moment, then smacked a wet kiss on the knuckles, basking in Cas’s surprised laugh. It took a second for Dean to get the ring from the box, unwilling to let go of Cas’s hand. 

Cas beamed when Dean finally slid the ring on, and Dean clutched his hand in both of his own afterwards, admiring the way the late morning light hit both rings at the same time. 

It was like all of his senses came rushing back when he finally looked at his boyfriend— fiance , his mind supplied giddily. There were birds chirping and the stream distantly gurgling and the sun beating down through the sparse tree layer they had seated themselves under. The ground was cold and the wind was warm and his angel was in front of him, right where he was supposed to be. 

Cas was still staring at their joined hands, shell-shocked. He looked up at Dean, nearly in a daze. “Dean, is this—is this real?”

Dean smiled faintly, knowing that this wasn’t preordained, wasn’t fodder for a fucked-up novel, wasn’t an interlude in their stories meant to end in tragedy. This was them. 

He leaned forward until their foreheads met. “Yeah, Cas, this is real. We’re real.”

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*        *        *

Dean could hear the front door open but he kept dancing, over-exaggerating his dance moves to the clapping and shrieks of delight from Jack in his high chair. The speaker that Claire had connected via bluetooth to Dean’s phone was sitting precariously on the edge of the counter blaring music while Dean shimmied and flipped a burger patty. 

He turned to see Cas slipping his shoes off in the doorway, hands filled with grocery bags as he took in the scene before him. 

Jack yelled, “Dada!” and dropped an applesauce covered spoon onto the floor. Dean groaned loudly but continued dancing at the stovetop, the song changing and his bopping increasing with the tempo. 

As Cas padded his way across the kitchen Dean handed Jack a clean spoon and then spun around to grab the groceries out of Cas’s hands and spin Cas himself into his arms. Cas startled and then laughed, arms going around Dean’s shoulders with a fond look. Dean tugged him closer and tried to do a modified slow dance to a song that absolutely shouldn’t be slow danced to. 

Then Dean sang along, “I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby I’m sure.” Cas tensed in his arms and then relaxed, looking at Dean with a look of wonder so intense that Dean swooped in to kiss him as Katrina Leskanich sang about walking on sunshine in the background. 

They broke apart when Dean heard Jack drop his spoon onto the floor again and Dean rested their foreheads together for a moment, soaking in Cas’s presence. 

Then Jack impatiently yelled out, “Pa!” and Dean finally stepped back and over to Jack, who had decided to pour his Cheerios into his applesauce and squish it between his fingers. Dean grimaced at the squelching noise. 

“Hey, buddy, c’mon, food isn't for playtime. We’ve talked about this.” Jack looked solemnly at Dean as he got his hands wiped down but then grinned widely, showing off his two bottom teeth that had finally sprouted between weeks of misery and crying. The nine-month old clapped and immediately stuck his hands back in his applesauce concoction. 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, the frustration in his head easing as he felt Cas’s arms wrap around his back, sturdy from hours of carrying around their child. He leaned back into him as Cas sang back to him, his gravelly voice rumbling through his chest, the vibrations palpable on Dean’s back. 

“I used to think maybe you loved me, now I know that it’s true.” 

Dean rotated in the circle of Cas’s arms and tucked his face into Cas’s neck, shivering as a delicate kiss was placed upon his neck. 

Dean’s responding lines were a whispered, “And I don't want you back for the weekend, not back for a day.” He straightened up and looked Cas in the eyes. “Cause baby, I just want you back and I want you to stay.”

Cas beamed. “Yeah?” 

Dean couldn’t help but smile broadly back. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah!” Jack chimed in from behind them. Dean turned to see Jack holding out a soggy cheerio and he stepped back, trying to negotiate with the kid. 

“That’s real sweet of you Jack, but uh,” 

Jack just held his hand out more insistently. “Yeah!”

Cas stepped forward and grabbed the cheerio, saying, “Thank you so much for sharing, Jack.” 

Jack grinned and went back to making a mess as Cas subtly threw the cheerio into the trash can behind him. He smiled smugly at Dean, who just gave him a sour look, quickly melting into one of affection when Cas looked away.

The room was smelling a bit too much like applesauce so Dean leaned over the sink to crack open the window, the breeze entering the room smelling like the smattering of flowers Cas had planted outside. At noon, the sun was high and blinding, a promising reminder of a warm day to come. Dean wondered if Cas would be up for a swim in the lake, since the baby floaties they had gotten for Jack had come in the mail earlier that week and he was dying to take a picture to send to everyone in his contacts list. 

He turned to see Cas gently scooping up a wiggling Jack and trying to wipe down his face as he fidgeted and giggled, thinking they were playing some kind of game. 

Dean placed his hand on the counter and leaned back, hearing the soft clink of his engagement ring against the countertop. He smiled softly. 

They could go to the lake and have pizza while watching Tangled later that night. Or maybe Cas wanted to have breakfast for dinner again and they could watch Breaking Bad after Jack fell asleep. They could possibly even video call with Sam and Jody and have a virtual family dinner. Maybe Jack would finally figure out how to say ‘Eileen’ instead of giving up after ‘El’. 

The breeze picked up behind Dean, the warm air making the papers on the counter rustle and the windchimes in the entryway make their melodic jingling noise. Cas looked up at Dean and smiled. 

Dean smiled back, knowing it didn't matter how they spent the rest of the day, or the week, or the month. 

For once, they had all the time in the world. 

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