Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Actions have consequences or so Dean’s been told. You sell your soul, you go to hell. You knock your coworker to the ground, you may lose your job. You kiss your best friend in the kitchen in the middle of the night while stress baking, you get flour everywhere. Flour in places Dean never wanted flour. He does discard whatever it was he was eventually going to make, for sanitary reasons. A part of him wants to bake it anyway and give it to Sam, but he’s not that much of a jerk.

Though, hooking up in the kitchen covered in flour isn’t all consequences. The pro here is an impromptu shower with Cas at 3am to wash the flour off his ass from where Cas hoisted him up onto the counter, because even without his angel grace, Cas is fucking strong.

Dean decides to try for a few hours of sleep in Cas’ bed after their shower. All other consequences can wait. His job. The baking mess in the kitchen. The possible awkwardness between him and Cas. The I-told-you-so from Sam. All that can wait, for now.

Whatever this is, they should probably talk about it. Dean doesn’t want to be the first to bring it up. Cas doesn’t seem to mind about the change in their relationship as he climbs into bed next to him, forgoing any bed sharing etiquette and pressing close to Dean immediately, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist.

Cas’ skin is still warm and slightly sticky from the water. His freshly washed hair smells of lavender and sticks to his forehead. It’s calming. Dean finds no trouble falling asleep.

+ + +

Dean only gets suspended from his job for two days. He counts himself lucky. His boss could have been a bigotted asshole and fired him, he had plenty of cause, but it seemed he didn’t want to suspend Dean at all.

Dean walks in to work that day with his work shirt over a black t-shirt.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately gains everyone’s attention. It’s as if he’s on his way to the principal's office in school, where all the kids stare and wonder what you did. But in this case they know. Dean knows that they know.  Rumors spread faster than goddamn STDs.

Kat catches his eye. Her own widen, and she shoves her thumb nail between her teeth as she watches him head to the back office. He offers her an encouraging smile. Tries to. He really doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but Dean knows, no matter what happens, he doesn’t regret it. Hell, he’d do it again. 

He’ll have to thank Kat before he leaves, because Johnston informs him that she explained the situation. And the rest of their meeting goes smoothly, with just Dean explaining a condensed version of his story and Johnston explaining both their suspensions.

They’re both suspended for two days. Dean can’t complain too much. His boss wanted to get away with no suspension, but Dean did react violently in the workplace, even if the guy had it coming, and then left in the middle of shift. 

Johnston promises if Will causes any more problems, he will be fired.

Hey, Dean’ll take it.

He lets Kat in on the situation before he leaves. She hugs him, and Dean thinks it’s the first time they’ve done that. Dean quickly realizes he would’ve missed Kat if he had been fired, so he hugs her back.

Jack is thrilled when Dean comes home with two days off to hang out with him. 

They all go to the park. Cas pushes Jack on the swing for a while. But then Jack makes some friends fairly quickly and ditches his old men. It’s always so easy for kids. A simple “Hello, I’m Jack,” and they’re running off to pretend to be pirates.

They don’t spend too long there. They’re making a hasty retreat when the sky turns gray and all the other families start to weed out. Which is good timing because Jack is rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

When they arrive home Dean tries to get Jack to use the toilet. Jack refuses and claims he doesn’t have to, only to go in his pull-up five minutes later after Dean had dressed him in some clean comfortable clothes for his nap. They’ve been trying to potty train him, but both Cas and Dean are inexperienced and Jack has no desire to use the toilet so he just doesn’t. 

Dean changes Jack and says, “You’ll let somebody know the next time you have to use the potty, right?” Jack nods, with an enthusiastic, “yep!” but Dean’s more than aware he won’t listen.

He gets his selective hearing from Cas. 

Despite being exhausted Jack doesn’t go to sleep immediately when Dean tucks him into bed. He begs Dean to read him a story and pulls two books off the shelf. 

Settling into the toddler bed with Jack, angling the book so Jack can look at the pictures, Dean begins to read. He doesn’t remember his dad ever doing this with him. And any stories he’s heard were more real-life horror stories from John’s hunts.

He remembers doing this though, with Sam. Except Dean couldn’t read so he used to make up the stories to go along with the pictures. Sammy never knew the difference. It did get difficult if Sam ever requested the same book twice, and Dean would have to try to remember the story he’d bullshitted his way through.

Dean agrees to two books mostly because he thinks Jack will be asleep before he’s done with the first.

He’s wrong.

Jack’s not even asleep by the end of the second, so he reads through the first again. Jack has his hand wrapped around Dean’s finger, a habit he picked up as a baby when he had trouble falling asleep.

Finally, half way through the second reading of the first book, Jack’s eyelids get heavy. Thank god, because Dean can feel his body succumbing to his own afternoon nap. He continues reading as Jack’s eyes close and they don’t open. Dean jerks himself awake once or twice before his hand holding the book slumps and he joins Jack in sleep.

When he wakes, Dean is alone. He’s cramped at an awkward angle to accommodate for a toddler who is no longer in his own bed. 

Dean panics.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He, ungracefully, flings himself out of Jack’s bed, trying to fight his way over the mesh rail on the side.

Dean slings open Jack’s door and calls for Jack or Cas. Neither of them respond.

He finds them outside in the garden. Cas is kneeling by the rose bush, explaining to Jack that thorns could hurt him, as Cas clips the roses off and cuts off the thorns before allowing Jack to hold one.

Cas looks his way when Dean slides the glass door open and steps out onto the back porch.

Cas smiles. “Good morning.”

The air is humid. It has stopped raining momentarily, but the stickiness lingers and there’s puddles of water in the grass.

Dean rolls his eyes and smiles back. “Yeah, whatever. How long was I out?”

“About four hours,” Cas says as Jack runs to Dean to be held. Dean picks him up. “Jack woke about an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Dean asks. Jack waves his rose around the air smacking Dean in the face with it.

“You looked so peaceful.” Cas says, almost innocently, and Dean would believe it but he has that look in his eye. He’s seen far too many times from Sam and a smirk Dean knows he learnt from Claire.

Dean narrows his eyes. “What did you do? Did you draw on my face?” He brings a hand to his cheek. “Jack, did he draw on my face?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t.” Cas bundles up his bouquet of yellow roses and ties them up. “I would’ve had plenty of other opportunities to do that, besides.”

Dean looks between Jack and Cas. Jack looks back at him innocently, clearly not in on whatever's going on.

Cas stands, his jeans are wet at the knees from kneeling.

Dean glares at Cas. “Where’s the friggin’ picture, Cas?”

Cas doesn’t respond. Dean checks his phone for the first time since he woke up. Jack tries to grab his phone with the hand not holding the rose. Dean notes the time, four in the afternoon. He also has some unread messages from the family group chat.

Cas has sent the picture to the group chat, of him and Jack passed out in the too-small toddler bed. Both their mouths hung open, Dean has a noticeable trail of drool. His body curved awkwardly, Jack’s curled up to Dean.

He sent it over an hour ago, so the replies have already come in beneath it.

Claire: embarrassing

Mary: This is so sweet! Send them my love.

Eileen: lmao dean’s gonna kill you

Sammy: I can hear this picture.

Dean huffs and types out a response.

Dean: fuck you sammy i do not snore

Cas: He’s like a bear. :-)

Dean looks up from his phone to see Cas typing on his own, his gardening gloves tucked under his armpits. 

“Dude!” Dean hisses.

Cas smiles and pockets his phone.

Jack whacks him with the rose again, and kicks his legs against Dean’s hips to be put down.

“What’s the matter, Jack-Attack?” Dean asks.

“Come see!”

Dean sets him down and allows himself to be led as Jack grabs his hand and drags him to the small corner of dirt where Jack has started his garden. Next to the mint plant, Cas has replaced the sticks Jack buried with some white lilacs. Next to the lilacs is a patch of green with some yellow bulbs. Dean remembers Cas saying he would get some buttercups for Jack and that they’d bloom in spring.

Jack beams proudly. 

“Wow, good job, buddy!” Dean squeezes his hand encouragingly. “Make sure you take good care of it.”

Jack nods and runs off to get his plastic gardening tools. But when Dean checks on him later he is digging for bugs and worms, letting them crawl across his mud covered hand. Dean shivers, but offers a smile when Jack brings a live beetle over to Dean to show him.

+ + +

“Claire wants to come a few days early,” Cas says over breakfast. They’re having pancakes and peas as their healthy side. Peas. Although, it doesn’t really matter cause Jack just drenches his veggies in more syrup.

The mention of Claire pops the bubble of domestic bliss Dean’s been feeling the last few days. That morning, Dean kissed Castiel when he woke up. Then again in the kitchen when Cas was making coffee, just because he could. Despite his hangups, being with Cas seemed simple. Within the confines of their bubble. But the reminder of all their loved ones coming to visit, and Dean going back to work, all of them going back to their lives… terrifies him. He knows it shouldn’t. 

“Oh, yeah?” Dean smiles. “She’s missing us so much she can’t wait to get here?” he jokes.

Cas cuts Jack’s pancakes into smaller bites. “She messaged me privately after I sent that picture yesterday, asking if it was okay. So I think so.”

Dean nods.

Jody has to work Thursday night, so the girls and Jody are having their Thanksgiving in Sioux Falls on Saturday. Dean had immediately invited the girls to join them for dinner on Thursday; Claire and Kaia accepted, Alex wanted to go to their boyfriend’s family’s. Patience is going to her dad’s.

“Jody also said Claire will help cook,” Cas says casually.

“No,” Dean blurts out. “Hell no. I already told you, Cas. Everybody stays out of my kitchen next week.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “That’s odd, because you said yesterday that, oh what was it?” Cas puts a hand to his chin thoughtfully, but doesn’t change his deadpan expression or break eye contact. “Oh, right, that you have to ’cook’ the whole damn ‘meal’ by yourself and you can’t get no ‘help’ around here.’” 

Dean smacks Cas’ hands forming air quotes.

“Well all of you would just cause more problems so I’m allowed to complain about my family being qualified for Worst Cooks in America, thank you .”

Jack’s taking a long sip from his sippy cup looking between Dean and Cas.

“Jody said she’s been teaching Claire so she’ll be valuable,” Cas says. When Dean looks like he’ll respond, Cas adds, “Deal with it,” with a stern dont-fuck-with-me look.

Dean shuts up. Can’t be too bad, some help would be nice. And he gets along with Claire, and she has been learning, so he can work it out.

Dean swallows and nods.

Cas, satisfied, turns to Jack who’s been chugging his juice. “Bee, do you need to use the potty?”

Jack shakes his head. “No, Cabbiel” Jack says.

Dean quirks an eyebrow, “What?”

Cas blinks.

Dean leans forward smiling. “Say that again.”

“Gabby-el” Jack stresses, and points at Cas.

Dean laughs. “Yes, he is Castiel. Who am I?”

“Dee!”

Cas just looks confused. “How did you…? Unimportant. Come on, we're going to the bathroom.” 

Cas picks up Jack while Jack kicks and yells, “No! Nononononononono!” and Cas drags him around the corner to the bathroom.

Dean clears their plates while they're gone. They emerge 10 minutes later when the kitchen is clean. Jack skipping happily, Cas strolling behind exasperated. 

“Any luck?”

Cas shakes his head. Apparently Jack held onto the counter and refused to sit on the toilet twisting his body to avoid it as much as possible, one of his feet landing in the bowl. Eventually, Cas bribed him into sitting on it, but Jack just sat there staring at him.

Jack runs up to Dean. “Cathbiel said one nounat,” Jack says, holding up a finger.

“Is that what Castiel said?” Dean laughs and pulls out the candy from the jar and hands a small piece to Jack.

“Thank you, Dee!” Jack grabs it and runs away.

“Dean, when did he start calling us by our first names?” Cas asks, as he watches him go.

Dean just shrugs. It's kind of cute.

+ + +

Dean’s been enjoying the extra time with his Family, and especially Cas, now that he can do things, like kiss him whenever he wants. Cas feels the same way.

So, returning to work Friday is difficult for all parties involved.

Dean had to talk his way out of Cas’ grip that morning so he could get ready. But Jack takes it the worst. He’s clutching Dean’s shirt begging him to stay and play with him. And Dean almost quits his job right there. Cas bribes him with tv and promises Dean will be home so soon. It works. For a while.

When Dean arrives home from work, the house is dark. He hears Cas call from the living room to watch out for glass over the muffled sounds of Jack crying.

And sure enough, there are shards of glass scattered around the front entrance, the bulbs above completely decimated. He keeps his shoes on despite his indignation toward tracking dirt in the house. It’s a little pointless at this moment. 

He makes his way through the house, noting every light has busted. The scattered pieces are reflecting the light from the setting sun coming through the window. 

He finds Cas on the couch, a pajama clad toddler nestled into his side, sobbing, face red. 

Dean kneels in front of them. At the sight of Dean, Jack’s sobs slow to furious shaky breaths, but another fit is clearly threatening to spill over. 

Cas looks defeated. His gray t-shirt is darkened in some areas from tears and snot. Some tears might’ve been his own. 

“Hey, buddy,” Dean says, softly. “Rough day?”

Jack responds with another shuddering breath, still clutching desperately to Cas’ shirt. 

Cas answers for him. “He hasn’t napped today, and he’s still refusing.”

“Do you want a break?” he asks Cas. 

Cas sighs, and looks guilty. “Maybe.” He shifts to stand. “I should clean up that glass.”

Just as Cas starts to move from him, Jack screams and pulls his shirt closer, another fit of sobs leaving him. Cas settles back down and pulls Jack back in. 

“Or I will stay here,” Cas says. 

Dean grabs the remote and turns on Blue’s Clues. Jack settles down as the distraction is welcome. Seems like bad parenting to use television to distract a sobbing child, but if it makes him happy, Dean doesn’t mind. 

He stands up to leave the two of them to watch their show and sweep up the glass, but Jack notices and starts kicking his legs, “No! No!” he whines. 

The glass can wait. 

Dean sits on the other side of Jack and throws an arm around Jack’s torso. Jack grabs onto the hand with his tiny little arms, his head resting on Cas’ chest. 

Over time, Jack’s breathing steadies. The three of them watch the man and his little cartoon dog look for clues, and the rain outside causes a steady relaxing drum. Dean’s head rests on Cas’ shoulder. At some point, when Jack’s eyes start to get heavy, Cas risks turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of Dean’s head.

Once Jack is fully asleep, Cas shortly follows him into an impromptu nap. Dean feels his own eyes getting heavy.

When he wakes, it's on a different episode. Josh is on screen and he’s a clue for once, and he’s very excited about it. Dean turns the show down some, but not all the way. He carefully extracts himself from his position as Jack’s personal blanket and situates Jack and Cas with a red fuzzy blanket. 

Dean gets to work on changing the lightbulbs and sweeping the glass. It’s not unfamiliar work. It happened a lot when Jack was younger, but has slowly lessened the older he’s got. But there are still moments, like today. 

Dean starts on dinner when he’s done. Cas joins him shortly after he’s got the water boiling and sits at the island, watching him work. All the jokes Dean used to make about how Cas should be helping him instead of just watching have since been overused, and sometimes ended in consequences. Like for example, Cas actually helping him cook. Dean doesn’t mind though, not really. He likes the company, and Cas likes to taste test. So it’s a win-win. 

But at the moment, Cas’ dark circles are more prominent than usual. And his shirt is still snot covered. 

Cas starts mumbling about having to clean and get things in order for the guests they’re having next week for Thanksgiving. Cas has quite the extensive list, most of which he couldn’t do tonight even if he was at full energy. Dean gives him a look like he’s lost his mind. Cas is hunched over the counter, his elbows resting on the counter, a hand propping his head up. 

“You’re not doing any of that tonight,” he responds, before turning and dumping a box of pasta into boiling water. He’s starting dinner late so he’s just making some mac and cheese, and something green for the side, something he hasn't decided yet.

While Jack likes green beans, he considers using some of the cheese from the pasta to get Jack to eat broccoli for once. 

He nods to himself. What is parenting if not tricking your kids into eating vegetables?

He pulls the broccoli out of the freezer, and he turns to find Cas’ head resting in the crook of his arm, eyes closed. Dean laughs fondly.

+ + +

The sun is bright, Dean finds himself shielding his eyes when he looks up at Cas. It’s great weather to be out at the Farmer’s Market. The sun shining bright, unhindered by a cloudless sky. It’s a little warmer than it should be for late November, the rain has officially dried up all the bad weather from earlier in the week. 

Cas already has his sunglasses on, some cheap black aviators he bought at a gas station some time ago. He’s wearing a colorful striped sweater that Dean would expect an old man to wear. Well, Cas is like a million years old or something. He’s wearing the vintage sweater over a collared shirt, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. Dean doesn’t understand how he makes such an ugly sweater work, but it works.

Though, Dean may be a little biased. 

It’s been fun watching Cas find his style once they finally convinced him to hang up the suits and buy some other clothes for once. Claire and Kaia took him shopping, Dean was not to be trusted. Something about his wardrobe only being henleys and flannel, as if there’s something wrong with that. He wonders if Claire and Kaia picked out this sweater or if Cas did.

Jack has his own sunglasses on, too. Small medium-yellow toddler sunglasses, with a strap on the back to hold them on his face. They match the yellow overalls he is wearing over a white butterfly-printed long-sleeve. He’s sitting happily on a blanket in the grass, with a small plate of sliced apples and a sippy cup in front of him. There’s a little streak of white on his cheek from the sunscreen Cas rubbed onto his face, while Jack shook his head back and forth trying to dodge his hand.

There is nothing different about this particular Saturday, but it feels different. It’s their first time out. Together. As a couple. And yet, nothing’s changed.

Dean’s not sure what he necessarily expects. There’s no way anybody here knows their together-together. Or maybe they had already assumed they were, like that woman from last week who flirted with Cas. 

He wonders if he should, like, hold his hand. Or if he should’ve greeted him with a kiss when he and Jack arrived.

Does Cas want that? Is he expecting that of him? 

Is Dean going to be able to give that to him? Dean never had a problem holding Lisa or Cassie’s hand when they were in public.

Some of the regulars nod at Dean and give a little wave and smile to Jack. Cas smiles at an older lady who buys two jars and reaches up to pat Cas’ cheek gently.

Cas’ honey is becoming a local favorite. But his herb plants are also bringing them business. When he first started his garden and propagated his plants, he one day found himself with too many, in Dean’s opinion. So they had decided to sell them along with the honey. 

Jack loves chewing on the mint leaves. It became a bit of an issue after the first time Cas let him try one. He started popping them in his mouth like popcorn. Eventually he had started trying to eat regular leaves on the ground, thinking they were the same. They’d had to put a stop to that, but they occasionally let Jack chew a mint leaf, stressing that it will only be one.

Dean likes the herb plants. He especially loves how excited Cas gets when he cooks using anything from their garden. Which reminds Dean, he should cook something for dinner that night with that cauliflower and spinach they picked.

They don’t earn a whole lot. Not as much as they would if they sold full time, and at a higher price. But Cas is satisfied with the business he gets and likes to keep his prices low. It’s more of a hobby for him, something to do alongside raising Jack, and he loves sharing it with others. Dean figures Cas would give it away for free if they could. 

Cas is adjusting the jars on the table idly, as a satisfied customer walks away. Cas’ people skills aren’t great, but they’re getting better. It helps when he gets to talk about things he’s passionate about, like Jack, his plants, or his bees and honey. 

Dean watches him. Cas hums absently as his hands look for something to do between guests. His hands spin jars just slightly to face forward, and push his herb plants a little closer to the front. There’s no need for the adjustments, the product is fine and the changes are miniscule. He grabs a jar and twirls around in circles. His hands are big next to the jar, with sharp lines. Dean really likes his hands.

Dean wants to hold them.

His own hands twitch but make no move to reach out. They’ve kissed, had sex, even goddamn cuddled (not that anybody will ever find out about that) nearly every day this week. But there’s something more intimate in holding hands in public. He’s torn between showing the world and telling the world to fuck off and mind it’s business.

Baby steps, he thinks. Nobody’s around them or the ones who are, aren’t paying attention at the moment.

Dean finds himself leaning forward and places a kiss directly on his lips. It's quick and soft and Cas barely has a chance to respond. When Dean pulls away, Cas’ eyes are closed but they quickly widen and then he smiles fondly. Dean tries to at least keep his expression neutral, lest he betray the thoughts running through his head.

Because he just kissed Cas in public. Manageable, bite size pieces. Like when you feed a toddler table food for the first time and you chop the pieces up so they don’t choke.

Dean won’t choke.

Dean feels a taptaptaptaptaptap on his leg, breaking his eye contact with Cas. He looks down to see Jack smacking his and Cas’ legs with both hands.

When he gets their attention he points to both of his cheeks. Dean laughs as Cas picks Jack up. They each place a kiss on a cheek, smooshing the toddler’s face a little. Dean hears a woman nearby coo when Jack lets out an infectious giggle.

He lets Jack monopolize their attention, and they each earn a kiss on the cheek from their son.

Dean’s driving his little family to dinner, as the sun sets. The early sunset always throws him off, makes him feel like it’s later than it is. The soft golden glow paints the curves and edges of Cas’ face, complimentary to his blue eyes.

Cas’ hand rests on his own thigh tapping gently to the song playing. Dean taps his own hand on the steering wheel, but for another reason. Dean wants to hold his hand. He’s done this with Lisa everytime they drove somewhere. So, he should with Cas, right?

Something stops him. He sits up straighter and clears his throat. His hands clench the steering wheel and he studies the way the ridges feel against his hands. 

But why? Because he’s a guy and he shouldn’t be as emotionally intimate with him as a woman? Because someone would see and know he’s in a relationship with a man? Despite that everyone that sees them probably assumes that already.

Dean’s so used to burying this part of him down. This part of him was locked in truck stop bathrooms long ago and left to rot, god forbid John found out.

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The root of it all. John still rules with an iron fist long after he’s dead. He continues to make Dean feel less than without even being there.

Fuck it.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Dean reaches over with his right hand and laces his fingers through Cas’ hand. Dean keeps his eyes forward, willing the tension away from his shoulders, as Cas squeezes his hand. Warm and soft. He hasn’t held hands with anybody like this since Lisa. He’s never held hands like this with another man.

It should feel foreign, but Dean can’t help but feel like they fit together.

“Dean,” Cas says. “You do not have to partake in public displays of affection for my benefit, if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not.” Dean forces his shoulders to relax. “And we’re not in public.”

Cas rubs a thumb up and down the back of Dean’s hand. “I suppose. Although, earlier today you seemed on edge after you kissed me. This is new to you, Dean. I don’t want to force you into anything you are not completely comfortable with.”

They begin hitting more traffic lights as they get closer to the more populated area. Their home is more secluded, surrounded by trees and fields, just how they like it. But it takes a little longer to get into the city.

“If I didn't want to, you know, I wouldn’t,” Dean says. “But I do. Want to.” He holds their intertwined hands up in the air between them. “So…”

And Dean does want to. There’s still the shit in the back of his head nagging at him. His father’s voice, mainly. But Dean stays holding onto Cas, only letting go when they arrive at the restaurant.

He doesn’t grab his hand again once they’re out of the car. 

Coward.

+ + +

“Dude, I’m not making a whole other meal for you on Thanksgiving.” Dean pushes the cart further down the aisle, stopping to chuck a few cans of green beans into the basket. Jack sits in the shopping cart watching quietly. “I sure as hell am not making a tofurkey. You can bet your hippie ass on that.”

“I’m not asking you to make a tofurkey,” Sam says. “I was just suggesting a recipe that might be a good alternative for any one who doesn't want turkey.”

“I’m making this whole damn dinner by myself, you’ll eat what I put on the table.” Dean shakes his head and mutters, “ungrateful ass” under his breath. 

They make their way out of the aisle and head toward the produce. Jack kicks his legs back and forth from his seat in the shopping cart. He has his panda plush in his arms and he’s watching the two men argue with rapt attention. Dean waves Sam off to go pick out stuff for his salad. Who eats salad on Thanksgiving?

Sam scoffs. “Dean, everybody offered to help you. It’s not our fault you threatened to chop our fingers off if any of us went near the kitchen this week.” Sam tosses in some bell peppers. “And Claire is coming early to help you cook, so you do have help.”

Dean’s not surprised Cas already told Sam. He starts scratching items off their grocery list and sets a few green apples in the basket along with Sam’s rabbit food.

“Well, it’s not my fault none of you bothered to learn how to cook,” Dean says using the same excuse he gave Cas.

Sam rolls his eyes.

Jack sits in the toddler-seat in the cart. He taps Dean’s hand that’s holding the cart rail. “Dee!”

“Yeah?”

“‘Nack.” Jack makes grabby hands and Dean fishes out a cheese stick to give him, after sanitizing his hands.

“Did he call you ‘Dee’?” Sam asks.

Dean waves him off. “Yeah, it’s his new thing calling everybody by their first names. He called Mom ‘Mary’ yesterday when she called, it was hilarious.” Dean’s still surprised Mary wanted to take up her role as grandma and wanted to be called such. She says she probably won’t get many opportunities so she’s taking it while she can. Even though she’s ten years younger than Dean.

Sam laughs. “How’s potty training going?”

Dean groans. “Dude, I think he’s genuinely afraid of the toilet now. Even the nou--” Dean glances at Jack. “n-o-u-g-a-t bribe isn't working.”

“Did you ask Mom?”

Dean did call Mary. And instead got a rabbit hole of stories from when Dean was potty training, which he doesn’t want to hear about. But all of this was just a few years ago for her. And sure maybe she could have advice, but Dean really doesn’t want to hear about him wetting himself and crying over his ruined dinosaur underwear. Sue him.

“Uh yeah,” Dean coughs. “She was no help.”

“Hmm. Shame.”

Dean’s phone rings. Ah. Perfect timing, Cas.

Dean answers the phone, greeting Cas and letting Jack say his “Hello, Cabbiel,” which makes Sam crack up.

Cas is calling about last minute additions to his grocery list. Some food, some cleaning supplies. Definitely some more coffee. Dean writes it all down. Cas also requests him to pick up some Thanksgiving themed paper plates and napkins to avoid too many dishes. He saw some turkey decorated ones on Pinterest apparently. Donna’s influence, he’s sure. Cas is also very aware he’ll be incharge of cleaning since Dean’s cooking, and wants to make things easier. Then he goes on a ramble about his tomato plant. Dean’s not sure what prompted it but he listens intently. Sam’s hovering by looking at the shelves and talking to Jack in a low voice.

Eventually Cas let’s them get back to shopping.

“Goodbye, Dean. See you soon.”

“Okay, bye Cas.” Then without thinking he says, “I love you.”

Dean freezes. It just slipped out. He didn’t mean to say it. They hadn’t even been together that long. Hell, they haven’t even been together for a week. Sam doesn’t even know yet. 

Sam doesn’t know.

Dean turns tentatively to Sam, who might as well be a mirror Dean. His eyes wide, his jaw slack. Though Sam doesn’t have the horrified expression Dean is sure he is wearing himself right now. 

Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if that would help him form a coherent sentence.

“Dean? Dean, are you still there?” Cas’ voice breaks through his spiraling.

“Yeah,” he croaks. He’s just a guy standing in a Walmart, professing his love to his best-friend-boyfriend-baby-daddy.

“I’m going to assume you didn’t mean to say that.” Cas doesn’t sound hurt. Just understanding.

Cas is awesome. Cas gets him. Dean eventually realizes he needs to breathe.

“It’s okay, Dean.” Cas says. “I- I love you, too.” A sigh. “I realize that might make things worse now.”

Oh, okay. They’re doing this now. Over the phone. In front of his brother. His brother who doesn’t know he and Cas are together.

Despite his accidental confession and his panic, Dean finds himself smiling. Because Cas loves him.

“That—That’s great.” What a stupid thing to say in response. What do you say in situations like these? “I love you, too,” he finds himself stupidly repeating back. He slams his palm on his forehead. Get it together, Winchester. 

Cas laughs. “I think we established that.”

“Right. But I do. In a not accidental way, I —” Dean clears his throat and turns away from Sam who is now smiling proudly at him. Dean’s face feels hot. “I mean it. And I’m not panicking. Well, I am. Maybe a little—”

“Dean.”

“But I’m not just saying it cause it slipped out.” And, oh god, he’s rambling. “It’s not an accidentally-call-your-teacher-’mom’ situation. I did mean it, which is why it slipped out, even if I—”

“Dean!” Cas shouts over the receiver.

Dean shuts his mouth.

“I believe you,” Cas says. “Would you like to talk about this more later?”

Dean would not like to discuss this situation later, but he would like to stop making a fool of himself in front of Sam and the entire store. 

“Right, uh, that’s fine.” They say their goodbyes and Dean hangs up. 

“So,” Sam says from behind him.

“Not a word, Sammy.” Dean turns back to collecting the items on their list. He’s staring at a shelf. There’s not a single thing he needs on that shelf, but it has his full attention.

“Dean,” Sam says. He walks over to Dean’s side and tries to place a supportive hand. There’s no one else on their aisle. Which means no witnesses if Dean decks his little brother for being nosy. “This is a big deal! You told Cas how you feel!” 

“Not a big deal, Sammy. Drop it.” Dean pushes the cart further down. “What do you say, Jack? Apple or grape juice?”

Jack happily replies, “both!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Dean concedes, adding both to the cart. “Don’t make it a thing, dude.”

“It is a thing. It's way past a thing.”

Dean huffs. Shithead little brothers. “It’s fine, leave it.”

Sam gives him a look.

Fine. Fuck it. 

“We already are.”

“What?” 

“We already are… you know… together.”

Sam’s jaw is slack again. “What? Since when?”

“A few days ago, we worked our shit out. Now drop it.”

Sam smiles and, infuriatingly, wraps Dean in a hug. “I’m happy for you, Dean”

“Man, I swear to god, I'm going to chop your limbs off.” Despite that, he finds himself smiling. Just a little. He’s still going to maim his brother. 

They eventually separate from their mini emotion-fest and continue down the aisle. Still no witnesses around, thankfully. 

Dean pushes the cart following Sam. Jack still sits happily in the seat, playing with a box of crackers. 

“So, if you guys are already together…” Sam glances nonchalantly at the shelf, picking absently at a label. “What was with the phone conversation?”

Dean ignores him. 

“That wasn’t…” Sam continues. “Was that the first time you said—“

Dean rams the shopping cart into Sam’s side.

“Dude!” Sam yelps. “What the fuck?”

Dean covers Jack’s ears. “Little ears, Sam! You’re being a bad example!”

“Me? You just ran into me!”

“What’s you’re fucking point?”

Sam scrunches his forehead and waves his arms in a ‘ are you kidding me right now’ kind of way. Dean’s hands are still over Jack’s ears, albeit loosely, not truly blocking any sound. 

“Dean, you swear in front of Jack all the time.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got a deal.” Dean takes his hands off of Jack's ears. “Watch,” Dean says to Sam. And to Jack, he says, “Hey Jack, who taught you that word?” 

Jack beams and shouts, “Sammy!”

“That’s my boy!” Dean sticks his fist out and Jack bumps it with his own excitedly. 

“I hate you so much.”

+

Claire arrives on Tuesday morning with Kaia in tow.

Jack’s tiny sugar-loaded body practically flies down the hallway into Claire’s arms, the second she opens the front door and yells, “Where’s Jack-Jack?”

Claire’s arms drop the bags she’s carrying in exchange for Jack.

“Care!” he screams.

She runs her hand through his hair, making it stick up like a little mohawk like it did when he was a baby, and the hair didn’t fully grow on the sides of his head. Kaia stands awkwardly behind, half in the doorway, her bags still hanging off her shoulders. They’re both in casual clothes, almost pajamas, for their road trip, taking advantage of not having to be ready for a hunt .

“Hey Jack-Jack!” Claire wraps her arms tightly around Jack, who himself is still in his PJs. She spots Dean standing by the kitchen door. 

“Nice to see you, kid.” Dean offers a smile. “Even if your only intention for visiting is two and half feet tall and has a bedtime.” 

“Don’t listen to him Jack-Jack, you’re the only one in this house I respect.”

“ Hey. ” Dean meets them at the doorway. 

Claire begrudgingly sets Jack down and accepts a hug from Dean. Kaia hugs him, too, and thanks him for the invite, but reminds him she will not help cook.

Jack drags Claire to the living room to show her his toys and Kaia follows, while Dean collects their bags and takes them to the guest room, which used to be Dean’s bedroom. But last week he moved in full time to Cas’ room, since it made sense. It wasn’t even a question, after that night in the kitchen, he brought over anything important and left the rest to get later. They basically share a wardrobe anyway. 

He stops by his and Cas’ room. The curtains are drawn shut, no light in the room besides the alarm clock blinking 7:30am.

Cas is lying exactly how Dean left him earlier that morning. Blanket wrapped around him like a candycane. He slings his arm over his eyes when Dean flicks the light on.

Dean leans over the bed and runs his hand down his bare arm, murmuring words to wake the angel. 

“Hey, Cas. Claire and Kaia are here. You gonna wake up anytime soon?”

Cas groans and rolls closer to Dean.

“Come on, the girls are here,” Dean says, pulling on him a little harder. “And I have to leave for work soon.”

“I do recall that teenagers are supposed to sleep in late.” Cas manages a sleepy glare, his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes barely open. “Why are they here so early?” he groans out.

Dean laughs when Cas pulls the blanket over his face. Dean shuffles to the doorway and yells down the hall. “Jack, come wake your dad!”

A small crash can be heard from the living room that slightly concerns Dean, and then small footsteps running down the hall get louder as Jack approaches. He doesn’t stop to spare Dean a glance nor does he hesitate, before flinging himself on the bed and flopping over Cas, kneeing him in the solar plexus. Dean winces in sympathy. Jack pulls the blanket off Cas’ face and leans in close. “Hello.”

Cas blinks at the toddler one inch away from his face. “Hello, Jack,” he manages as nicely as he can. Way nicer than he would’ve if it was Dean who was forcing him to wake up. Jack’s true super power.

Dean and Claire are hard at work in the kitchen Tuesday evening. Dean wants nothing more than to relax after work, maybe watch a movie with Jack, but if he and Claire are going to get this dinner done by Thursday they need to start now. Neither of them are quite sure where to start so they decide the pies would be a safe bet. While Jack had been reluctant to allow Dean to take Claire from all the fun they were having, he did compromise to coloring at the kitchen table nearby, until he got bored and went to watch cartoons until dinner. Cas and Kaia are reading on the couch. Cas had shown her their bookshelf. Some books are from the bunker, some are just ones he and Castiel like to read. Jack’s starting his book collection on a bottom shelf.

Claire’s peeling apples while Dean makes chicken for that night. Claire tells him about her day and how she got roped into yard work because apparently Jack thinks that's fun.

Dean tells her who’s coming for the holiday. So far, they’re only missing Sam, Eileen, and Mary.

“Promise my air mattress won't have a hole in it this time,” Claire says, teasingly and also very seriously. 

Dean grimaces at the memory. “Yeah, I still haven’t replaced that thing,” he says. “But, you’ll be in the guest room.”

“Oh?” she smirks at him. “Finally kicking Sam to the curb then?” 

Dean quickly realizes there’s not an easy way out of this conversation. Or an easy way out of everyone who visits finding out they are now sharing a room. Or, frankly, an easy way out of the closet.

Which he’s fine with. Sort of. He does love Cas, as he just told him over the phone at a grocery store. They haven’t talked about it since then. He suspects Cas is waiting for Dean to bring it up. Which he won’t, so.

But there were still many people in Dean’s life, who thought of Dean one way. Who Dean made them think of him a certain way. And they will all eventually know, he just kinda wishes they would just know and that he wouldn’t have to tell them. And that there’d be no bonding emotional thank you for telling me or I’m so happy for you moments.

“Uh, no. Sam and Eileen are still going to stay in Sam’s old room.” He focuses on the meal he’s preparing, searing the chicken on both sides. He feels Claire staring at him.

“Okay, you lost me. Did this house birth out a whole new bedroom while I was away?”

He glances at her. She’s standing with one hand holding the potato peeler and one holding the half peeled green apple.

“No, we turned my room into a guest room of sorts.” Well, “turned” is a bit of an exaggeration. They put clean sheets on the bed and cleared out a couple drawers. They took out any of Dean’s personal belongings that he might miss immediately and any weapons. But a lot of his stuff was still stored there for the time being. 

“And you’re sleeping in the bathtub?” She waves the potato peeler around, like he’s an idiot and she’s making a wish for some goddamn context.

He glances to the side. He doesn’t want to not tell her but he’s still finding it hard to, well, come out. He also doesn’t know how she’ll take it. Obviously she’ll be fine with the whole, uh, bi thing but he doesn’t know how she’ll react to… because that’s, you know, her dad. Well, sort of. It was. Shit.

He doesn’t have to say it, though. Cause somehow she gets it. Her jaw drops and is quickly replaced with a wide smile.

“No way.”

She has the same look Sam gets when he wants to act like a little shit about his relationship with Cas. 

“You and Cas?”

Dean freezes and blinks. “How —”

Claire cuts him off. “No fucking way. You guys fucking did it?”

He feels his face heat up under her knowing look. Somehow she took a crumb of context and figured out he and Cas were sleeping together, and in the non platonic way. How she came up with the conclusion so fast he has no idea. Everyone he knows, knows he’s straight. Or thinks so, actually.

Her shoulders sag. “Damn, there goes my plan,” Claire groans. “Ugh, now I owe Sam twenty dollars, thanks a lot.”

Dean just stands there, like an idiot. Arm half raised holding tongs. He’s got a few questions but his mouth just opens and closes.

Claire points to the stove. “Your chicken’s burning.”

Right. Brain reboot. “Shit!” Chicken’s burning. He’s cooking chicken, Claire knows he’s dating Cas, she had some plan and owes Sam twenty dollars. Okay.

He flips the piece of chicken, charred side up. Great. That’ll be his piece, he supposes.

Her words ring in his head again as he gets his cooking under control. He points the tongs at her accusingly. “What plan? Why do you owe Sam?” he demands.

She smirks at him as she continues peeling the apples. “We had a bet on when you two would work your shit out. I bet on Thanksgiving or a little after. Sam said before.” They had a fucking bet on his relationship with Cas? Claire continues, “My plan was to nudge you two morons over Thanksgiving, but I see Sam got there first, fucking cheat.”

“You and Sam bet on our relationship,” he clarifies.

“And Mary.”

What the fuck.

Dean has to turn and take the chicken off the stove or everybody is having burnt chicken for dinner.

Claire seems unbothered by bombshell she just dropped on his fucking closet door that apparently is made of fucking glass.

“My mother?!”

She laughs lightly at a memory. “Yeah, well. She actually bet you guys were secretly screwing this whole time, but me and Sam assured her you were far too repressed for that. She didn’t budge.” Claire shrugs and shakes her head at the ridiculous thought. “Hey, it’s her twenty dollars.”

Dean stares at the back of her head. His half-cooked chicken is sitting on a plate behind him.

Dean feels annoyed. Like kinda fucking mad. Cause his entire life is a fucking joke and an open book apparently. And literally, thanks to chuck. And everyone likes to know his business before he knows his business, and make fucking bets on his sexuality. “Oh, cool,” he says harshly. “What, was Eileen in on this too?” Cause why not just include everyone.

Claire glances back at the change in tone. “Uh, no. She was the bookie.”

Dean tosses the tongs on the counter and rips off his apron. He storms out the kitchen onto the back porch. He passes the living room on the way out, Cas and Kaia hold books in their hands pretending to read but instead are watching Jack’s cartoons with him. Cas spares him a concerned glance on his way out.

He throws himself a small pity party of one on the back porch. For a moment he craves the familiarity of a cold beer in his hands and the warmth it causes in his stomach. He quickly reprimands himself.

He doesn’t really know why he’s angry. He knows Claire doesn’t deserve him to lash out at her. Nothing is her fault.

In a way he’s having the best case scenario. Everybody knows so he doesn’t have to, like have a talk with everyone, and they’re all supportive. Supportive of not just his sexuality but of being with Cas, too.

But then, everybody knew before Dean even got a chance to figure out his own shit.

Dean curses the deep pit in his stomach of being known, and whatever it was that made him feel anything less than. Dean curses the closet he convinced himself he wasn’t in, that turned out to be a one way mirror, that everybody could see straight through except himself. 

His family is so obviously supportive, but then why is he so fucking angry?

The sliding glass door opens behind him, and somebody steps outside. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is. 

Cas sits next to him. 

He doesn’t say anything. Which Dean is both happy and irritated about.

They sit in silence, watching the sunset over their backyard. It’s a secluded area. Surrounded by trees, so they can’t see anybody else. The area is filled with Cas’ garden, both vegetables and flowers and the small corner where Jack gardens himself. Further down by the treeline is where Cas keeps his bees, in a fenced-in area to keep Jack out.

Dean found this run-down house, packed with renovation needs and ugly wallpaper and an overgrown backyard, brought his family to it and nurtured it into their home.

“I don’t know why I’m mad,” Dean admits after a while.

“That’s okay,” Cas says. “You are allowed to feel without excuse.”

Dean doesn’t know why he just can’t be normal about this. He’d thought it’d be easier when he got with Cas. Like he’d flip a switch and it was the solution to all the repressed bullshit in his head. 

“I think I’m frustrated with myself.”

“Why?” Cas coaxes.

“I just feel like I’m letting you down, because I'm not good with… with dealing with all this.” He grabs Cas’ hand, one hand clasped, the thumb of his other hand brushing gently across Cas’.

“I know what you feel, Dean. You feel more deeply and acutely than any man I’ve ever known.”

Dean focuses on the edge of their porch. The Queen Anne’s lace Cas planted around the side swinging slightly back and forth as the wind blows a cool breeze.

“You care, and you love,” Cas continues. “And somewhere along the way you were made to feel as if experiencing these things made you less than. You think you don’t show it, but you do. Everything you do, you do for love.”

“And if I never figure my shit out and can’t hold your hand in public?” Dean asks. “Don’t you want that?”

“I already have everything I want.” Cas leans in, and kisses him. Kissing Cas never fails to make him lightheaded. Could be his refusal to stop for air or just the “sparks” books always talked about. Dean wonders if other people feel this way, if this is what everyone’s been talking about this whole time. And if he’ll be old and one foot in death’s doorway and he’ll still feel this way when Cas kisses him.

Dean hopes he gets to find out.