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It’s been a year.
A wonderful, wonderful year.
It was something they treasured literally every day. Dean woke up with the love of his life warm by his side for a year . Castiel went to bed with the man who taught him what love was for a year . Every once in a while, they still could hardly believe it. But after today, after the anniversary festivities, it was real. They were real. And so was their love.
That night, that Valentine’s Day night, after everyone has left, after they’re done cleaning, Dean and Cas retire to their bedroom. They take off their layers in companionable, sleepy silence. Once they’re down to their boxers, Dean has an idea.
“Wait,” he says, holding a hand out so Cas doesn’t get into bed just yet. Cas pauses, waiting, a slight smile on his lips in anticipation of whatever caught his husband’s attention.
Dean goes over to their closet, rifles through their wardrobe until he finds what he’s looking for. He takes his wedding suit out of the plastic sleeve and off its velvet hanger. He takes just the shirt and tie. Then he does the same for Castiel’s suit, hanging next to his, as it has for the past year.
Dean puts on the shirt and tie, and hands Cas’ to him. “Put ‘em on.”
Castiel does, noting how Dean is watching him. If he notices how Cas turns, flexes, puts on a small show, Dean doesn’t comment. Just watches. Properly suited up, Cas moves closer to his husband. His husband of one full year.
“Now what?”
Dean kisses him. Cas wants to grab the back of his neck, never let him break the kiss, stay in this moment forever, but he senses that there’s more to this idea. Plus, he knows he can do that later.
Silently, Dean goes over to his record player. It’s already got an album with some of their wedding songs on it, which were being played throughout the day. He turns the dial to switch the player on and moves the tonearm. Slight static plays for a moment as the needle finds the groove. The first song starts up, and Dean sways back into Cas’ space. He puts one well-worn hand, the one with his wedding ring (the one that matches the ring on Castiel’s finger, if you can believe it), on Cas’ hip. Holding the other one up in the air between them, he whispers into his husband’s ear.
“Dance with me.”
Castiel places his hand in Dean’s, and they do just that. It’s slow, it’s soft, it’s intimate. It’s perfect. Something just for them, after a day of being with family.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Cas.”
“Happy anniversary, Dean.”