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Outside, it wasn't exactly quiet, because nature wasn't: the water lapped at the edges of the lake, and crickets courted. Inside, a branch tapped at a kitchen windowpane as Dean climbed the stairs; he added tree trimming to his mental list of chores for the next week.
Otherwise, the house at night kept itself close. The wooden plank floors no longer squeaked as loudly as they had. The furnace hadn't yet needed to be turned on for the season. All televisions, laptops, and radios had been retired for the evening. And at the end of the hall, Cas was murmuring to the baby.
Dean stood at the nursery door like he was being held suspended in time, in amber.
Incandescent light from the lamp shaped like a miniature elephant limned Cas in gold as he stood at the changing table and told Jack in his low, deep voice, "There now. That's so much better, isn't it? All clean and dry."
Jack said, "Pleh," and kicked one chubby leg out for emphasis.
When Cas picked him up, Dean could see the chosen footsie: a gray one Sam had bought. Dean liked that one. A cartoony drawing of a triangle of pizza was offset by the words 'Slice Slice Baby' in a chunky red font.
Cas moved to sit in the nearby rocker, Jack held against his shoulder. When they were settled, Cas cradled Jack in the crook of his arm, and Jack took the opportunity to gnaw on his own tiny fist while watching Cas in fascination.
Cas said, "It's been several years since I ate any pizza myself," in a way that seemed like a continuation of a conversation he and Jack had already been having before Dean arrived. "When I was human, Dean delivered a pizza to me once."
He smiled a little at the slobbery sort of sound Jack made as he snacked on his hand.
Dean couldn't cross the threshold. His feet were nailed to the floorboards, and he too was captured rapt.
"What pizza?" he asked quietly, because he was having trouble remembering.
If Cas was surprised at the question or the company, he didn't show it. "When I was in Idaho, after being in Rexford. You found me at that motel I'd moved into for a couple of weeks. The name had something to do with bread?"
Dean, freed, stepped into the room. "The Sourdough," he recalled. "The pizza came from a parlour down the street called something like Ponderosa Pine Pies."
"There were potatoes on it. Very thin." Cas looked over as Dean knelt carefully by the rocker and reached out a finger that Jack grabbed without hesitation. "It was weird."
"Yeah, it was," Dean said, breathing out a laugh. "Only time I've ever had potatoes on a pizza, but that's Idaho for you."
He kept his eyes on Jack, who was squeezing his finger like he might try to keep it.
"I never understood why you sought me out that night."
Dean's eyes snapped up to Cas's. "What?"
"It was a terrible risk, you sneaking away again like that. Sam was-- Gadreel was still possessing him, though I didn't know that at the time." Cas looked down at Jack. "You showed up, we ate pizza, and you left."
There was no condemnation in his tone, no anger.
Dean counted the rise and fall of Jack's chest as the baby drifted asleep, his grip on Dean loosening.
Dean found Cas watching him. In the low light his eyes were dark, fathomless. Leaving him behind in Rexford had been so easy, until it wasn't. "I always-- I wanted to apologize for kicking you out of the bunker and explain everything, but Sam wasn't safe yet, and." He went still, heart in his throat. "I just wanted to see you."
Then, it had been much harder to leave, let the road back to Kansas unwind in the headlights and not think about what Cas would have done if Dean'd reached for him, if he'd been brave.
Years ago; and everything, and nothing, had changed.
Understanding bloomed across Cas's face slowly, pouring light into his eyes.
Nothing much else would happen tonight, Dean knew. But he would climb to his feet; Cas would rise and, so gently Dean would feel like weeping, place Jack in his crib. In their quiet home, the one Cas had chosen for Jack because there was a lake with ducks and a room he could transform with rainbows and love stronger than the devil, they would go through the evening routine of brushing teeth and washing faces, changing into pajamas. They would fall asleep curled towards each other, the space left between them growing ever smaller, until one day, hopefully soon, it wouldn't be there at all.
Maybe Dean would make pizza for dinner tomorrow.