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Dean’s days used to begin with darkness. With screams, or silent tears. Now, of course, living in a bunker makes natural sunlight hard to wake up to, but when Cas moved into Dean’s room, he brought his sun lamp. That fixed everything. The darkness washed away with Cas’ lamp, and the tears wiped away with Cas’ gentle hand.
This morning, their room begins to light up around 7am, but Dean and Cas are already awake, tangled into each other. They trade lazy kisses and laughter as gentle as the touches that accompany.
“Happy anniversary,” Cas whispers into Dean’s hair, and Dean pulls Cas closer. They fall asleep again just before the lamp hits full brightness, and they sleep well into the morning.
When Dean does wake up, it’s to Cas sitting beside him with a plate of blackened toast and soggy pancakes. Dean’s chest aches at the sight, and he smiles, taking the cup of coffee Cas had been sipping from.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says, smiling into Cas’ mug as he drinks out of it.
“You’re welcome, darling,” Cas grins, unfazed and seemingly unsurprised by this turn of events. He does take the mug out of Dean’s hands though, tackling Dean down and laying sideways on the bed with him.
Dean’s legs hang off the side of the bed, and Cas straddles his waist, grinning and running a hand through Dean’s hair. He leans in close, just breathing for a moment, before shifting so his lips just barely brushed Dean’s ear. “We should get out of bed,” Cas whispers, kissing the spot in front of Dean’s ear. “It’s almost noon.”
“We can do what we want,” Dean breathes out, running his hands up and down the fronts of Cas’ thighs. “It’s our day, baby,” he laughs lightly, turning his head to look at Cas.
His husband.
Yeah, he can do this for the rest of his life.
After another thirty-ish minutes of more teenage-esque making out (and giddy laughter when it did, indeed, become noon,) they do make their way to the “living room” of the bunker. By living room, of course, Dean means the war room.
Sam groans (like he always does) when Dean plops down into Cas’ lap, but Dean points a pen threateningly at his little brother. “Hey, watch it. You can do this in important historical rooms with your wife on your day, but today’s ours.”
Cas kinda just grins at Sam in lieu of defending his husband, and honestly, that deserves another kiss.
And Dean is nothing if not an avid fan of providing Cas with whatever he needs and/or deserves.
Sam leaves. Dean knows Sam doesn’t want to be called out on the little smile, and Dean offers mercy. Just this once.
Other people come and go. Claire walks by with a disgusted groan and a, “I knew I shouldn’t have decided to spend Valentine’s here.” Kaia follows close behind with a grin and a wave at the pair, who are at that moment talking about 1 Year Anniversary bands while looking at their now chipped and scratched wedding bands. When they’re researching heavy duty rings, Jack and Eileen walk through, signing to each other excitedly about many things, including but not limited to: Dean and Cas. The Wedding(s) the year before. The Anniversaries. All that those particular topics entail.
At around 2, Cas asks Dean to get up so he can leave. Which absolutely never happens, and Dean should know. He’s the one that goes around bragging about being married to an Angel on the daily. Perks include: Stamina, Strength, Never Sleeping, and lacking the need to ditch Dean for something as inconsequential as a bathroom break.
That being said, Dean pouts until Cas gets back, grabbing Dean by the hand and tugging him off to the Deancave(™).
When Cas sits Dean down in one of the recliners and kneels at his feet, Dean suddenly has three very conflicting thoughts going off in his head at the same time.
Option A) Dean is about to get the best blowjob of his life. He has no regrets about this train of thought.
Option B) Cas walks to have a talk. Just a genuine serious talk that they needed privacy for.
Ya know, normal marital things. Dean’s pleased.
It, of course, is neither of these things. Cas pulls out a small box, wrapped neatly in newspaper and tied up with a little bow, it’s simple, and just the sight of it, of Cas looking so shy and sweet at him over it, just reminds him why people stay married.
“I just wanted to give this to you in here. Where you first… anyways, here.” Cas says, not helping at all. Either way, they share a smile, silent and gentle, before Dean takes the present from Cas. Inside the box is a singular mixtape. It’s held in place by two pieces of scotch tape. Above it, the words, “FOR YOU” in Cas’ pretty, loopy handwriting. Below it, “TO KEEP”.
“Oh Cas,” Dean whispers, but he doesn’t say what he wants to. He doesn’t know why, he just can’t. Instead, he looks at Cas, and pulls him in close. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice scratchy and worn like he’s been shouting all day. Maybe he has, just in his mind.
“I heard the traditional gift is paper, and I know this isn’t paper in its usual form, but-” Cas tries, but Dean just scoops him up into a hug. Cas sits in Dean’s lap now, and Dean pulls in long, deep breaths from where he is buried in the crook of Cas’ neck. He tries to smell Cas, to breathe him in.
They spend hours there, Dean is sure of it, but next thing he knows they’re eating dinner together. All of them, with music playing in the background. Rowena even showed for dinner and while Dean will never admit it, he’s happy so see her along with the rest of them.
Dean and Cas both get teased and they make their own share of jokes as well. (A few of which, as always, make Sam and/or Claire spit out their food and “Gross, guys ” their way through the rest of dinner.)
The laughter continues when Cas drags Dean away, his generally stoic expression cracked by a grin and the wiggling of eyebrows (if only to receive a similar reaction as above). They make their way down long, twisting hallways, and suddenly there’s a pang in Dean’s chest as he looks around. A long scratch on the wall, an incessant ringing in his ears and the feeling of a crushed heart. Literally.
He shoves it away.
He shoves it away, but suddenly, Dean isn’t giggling (yes, giggling) into Cas’ shoulder. Suddenly, they’re not holding hands.
Suddenly, the world twists, and Cas is crying. Cas is crying, and all Dean can think is, this is my fault. Cas is smiling, and Dean is screaming, and he’s not heard. He’s never heard. There are tears running down Dean’s cheeks, and his face is dry. He’s holding his breath as he speaks to Cas, and wonders deep in the back of his mind why his voice isn’t scratchy from screaming.
Cas’ hand is burning into Dean’s shoulder, and a false memory singes the edges of Dean’s mind. Vows. An altar. A kiss, gentle yet passionate in front of everyone they care about.
The memory fades as quickly as it appeared, and Dean knows what’s next.
No! Please, Cas, no. He screams and he begs and he pleads and nothing comes out.
Move! Do something! Anything ! Please! He begs himself, but his arms don’t wrap around Cas like he wants them to. He doesn’t force Cas’ lips silent with his own. He just stands there, screaming and sobbing in the depths of his mind as the man he’d tried to call husband squeezes his shoulder and says,
“I love you.”
Dean’s still screaming, still crying, still begging for Cas to stop, to come back, to take it back, to go back in time, to fix this. He’s still aching to see lights shattering in a barn in the middle of nowhere. He’s still hoping for flickering stars and a first dance beneath them. He’s still urging his body to move as he watches the man he loves be carried away by the darkness.
That’s when Dean wakes up, screaming into the shadows of his bedroom.
His screams descend into sobs, wracking his entire body, and suddenly he feels much too small in his cold, empty bed.