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i.
Dean’s fingers shake from where they’re wrapped around a bottle of Miller.
Jack, it seems, has really thought of everything in Heaven 2.0. Bottles of beer are always cold, never lukewarm, but drip anyway, small droplets of water that flow between his fingers as he sits in the Roadhouse with Bobby, or as he takes sips between working on Baby, Cas perched on a stool next to him, his eyes tracking the drops lecherously as they drip down Dean’s wrist, under his watch. Sometimes he wonders how much of Heaven is Castiel’s influence. He’s beginning to think this is one of those things.
There are a plethora of emotions in Heaven, too, not just the fluffy, chick flick feelings Dean had expected. Sure, most of the time is sunshine and rainbows, but he’s felt bone tired, or lonely or, sitting across from his mom, nervous.
His mom looks effortlessly beautiful every time he sees her, her face never older than it was when he was 4 years old, always dressed in something white and flowy. Everyone else, including his dad, dresses in an array of colors, but not his mom. When he asked Cas about it, Cas had just shrugged.
“Some people had expectations,” Cas explained. “And some were easier to accommodate than others.”
Dean’s never done this, sat in the Roadhouse with his mom, sharing a drink with her. His mom is a Coors Lite kind of woman. Who’d have thought?
“I don’t see what there is to be so nervous about, baby,” Mary says gently. “You know that no one will judge you up here.”
She’s right. No one in Heaven, in Dean’s experience, at least, is prejudiced. He’d have expected his dad to have some reservations about him technically dating a man, but he was more excited to finally have time to play sports to have any hang-ups about Dean’s technically-a-relationship.
“I know that,” Dean answers. “It’s just-” he sighs, nails clinking against the side of his slowly-sweating beer. “It’s Cas , you know?”
Though she knew Castiel very briefly in life, and certainly not as well as Dean or Sam, she nods her head in understanding. God , Dean wishes he could talk about this with Sam. He hopes Sam lives a full life, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but wish Sam would get his ass up here, pronto.
“Castiel is a good person,” his mom says. “He always watched out for you in life, and I think he’s still doing the same.” She takes another sip of her beer, and she looks a lot cooler than Dean feels doing so. “I can tell he loves you.”
A good person . Because that’s all Castiel is now - a person.
Cas told him all about it. How Jack rescued what little of him was left from the Empty, lovingly reformed Cas with his own hands like Castiel had done with Dean once upon a time, and sat vigil by his bedside until he awoke.
“You don’t need to fight, Castiel,” Jack said. “You’re not a warrior anymore. You can rest now, with Dean.”
So they’re kind of technically sort of dating now. In true ‘them’ fashion, they didn’t talk about it, about Castiel’s confession before being pulled into the Empty, about the way Dean clung Cas to him when they reunited, the tears in his eyes and the quiver of his voice when he warned Cas “don’t you ever do something that stupid ever again”, and Cas’ gentle fingers in his hair as he held Dean close.
But they eat dinner together more often than not, and Cas watches Dean work on his Baby, and sometimes they take long wordless drives across the ever empty streets and constantly blue skies, stealing glances at each other when the other isn’t looking. It’s more of a relationship than Dean’s been in since Lisa, and it scares the shit out of him, how much he loves Cas and the fact that he can’t just fucking say it.
“You lost in there?” Mary asks, bringing him back to the present. He’s been in Heaven for about a week, and it only took 6 days for him to break and admit to his mom that he needed help.
“Sorry, just thinking,” Dean answers, taking a long sip of his beer, reveling in the burn in his throat.
“That’s a first,” Mary teases.
Dean fixes her with a look somewhere between exasperated and fond. “Glad to know you didn’t lose your sense of humor in Heaven,” he answers.
Mary’s smile turns fond, and she reaches forward to place one of his hands between her own. “Seriously, Dean. If you love him, just tell him. Trust me, there’s never a bad time to hear ‘I love you’.”
Dean wants to argue that maybe watching the person you love get pulled into the Empty is a less than opportune time, but he knows better than to argue with his mother.
Which is how he finds himself here. Jack had built Cas a little home along the river, a small cottage where Cas revels in endearingly human things, like feeding ducks or brewing a pot of coffee. Dean spends a lot of time in Cas’ cottage, watching Castiel indulge himself. He deserves it, Dean thinks. They both do.
Dean lets himself into the cottage, where Cas is in the kitchen, wiping down a counter. “Hello Dean,” he greets over his shoulder without looking, ever perceptive.
“Hey,” Dean answers. He closes the front door behind him and leans against it, content to watch Cas clean up.
Castiel turns to Dean and fixes him with a wide smile. Cas has been smiley ever since their reunion, and it’s a good look on him. “Can I make you a cup of coffee?” Cas asks.
“Sure,” Dean answers. He watches in silence as Cas grabs a Kureig cup (doesn’t matter what flavor - everything tastes amazing up here) and puts it in the machine. Once the quiet buzz of the machine starts, Dean clears his throat.
“Cas, man, I gotta talk to you,” he says. Cas hums in acknowledgement, still watching the Keurig. “Listen, I know when you confessed to me back on Earth, I didn’t have the greatest response.”
Castiel turns to face him then, his face fallen. “Yes,” he says, and it sounds a lot like ‘no shit’.
“You gotta understand, man, I was scared. And kind of shocked, I’ll admit. I didn’t even know you were gay.”
“I suppose it depends on your definition of gay,” Castiel muses. “I technically am a genderless being.”
“Right,” Dean answers. “Well anyway. Now that I’ve had some time to process-. I mean-. Aw, fuck it.” Dean pushes himself from the doorway, and in three long strides he grabs Cas by the waist and pulls him in for a kiss.
Kissing a guy, Dean decides, is a little weird. Cas is all straight lines where he’s used to curves, and he can feel the stubble against his face, and (as he reaches a shaking hand up to cup Cas’ face), his jawline is sharp under Dean’s fingers.
But, as the shock of being surprise kissed wears off and Cas kisses back, it’s awesome . Cas knows how to kiss, and Dean feels himself melt as Cas opens up to him, electricity all the way down to his fingertips, and something in his heart cracks open, a weight lifted off his shoulders.
When Dean pulls back, too soon, Cas tries to chase his lips, his eyes still closed. Dean leans their foreheads together and Cas’ eyes flutter open, bright blue, like the ocean, and they’re even prettier from up close.
“I love you too,” Dean breathes like a secret meant just for Cas.
“Took you long enough,” Cas breathes back, and then they’re kissing again.
ii.
Time moves weirdly in Heaven, and before Dean knows it, he’s meeting up with Sam.
They spend a while on that bridge, watching over the water, before Dean turns to Sam and asks, “so how was life?”
“Incredible,” Sam answers, and he looks it. He’s lighter up here. “I married Eileen and we had a son named Dean. He’s amazing, he’s so smart, funny, and talented. And I got out, man. I died of old age, for god's sake. What hunter gets to do that?”
Dean feels like tearing up hearing about Sam’s life. He’s an uncle. God , he can’t wait to meet his nephew. “I’m happy for you man,” he says as he claps Sam on the back.
“What about you?” Sam asks. “Did everyone-”
“They’re all up here,” Dean answers. “Bobby and Mom and Dad and Cas-”
“Cas?” Sam asks, surprised. “How’d he get out of the Empty?”
“Jack rebuilt him, man, and the two of them did this.” Dean gestures to the world around them, “all open, all together, like it was meant to be.”
Dean drives Sam to the Roadhouse, where everyone is waiting for him. Sam wraps Mary up in a bear hug, spins her around as the two of them laugh. John pats him on the back as the two of them share a quick teary hug, and then John hands Sam a beer, to which Sam laughs boisterously. God , Dean missed his laugh.
They all watch as Sam reunites with everyone, until finally, he gets to Castiel. Cas looks stoic, but Sam smiles at him as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. “Cas, man,” Sam says, and he wraps Cas up in a tight hug. He leans his giant body over so he can rest his head in the crook of Castiel’s neck, and Cas presses his hands gently into Sam’s upper back. “It is good to see you.”
“Likewise,” Cas answers, and Dean thinks he sees a tear fall down his cheeks.
When Sam pulls away from the frankly embarrassing mushy reunion, Ellen announces dinner in celebration of Sam’s arrival. Everyone splits off to sit throughout the Roadhouse. Mary and John sit on one side of a booth, and Sam and Dean squish in on the other. There’s barely enough space for Cas, but he makes it work, half sitting in Dean’s lap.
Sam’s eyebrows raise into his hairline, especially as Cas (who, Dean has learned, is an incredibly tactical person), intertwines their fingers. “Is…” Dean and Cas turn in tandem to look at Sam as he speaks, “Is something going on here?”
Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “Dean and I are engaged in a romantic relationship, yes.”
Dean rolls his eyes fondly as Mary covers a laugh with her hands, and even John smiles. “Just say we’re dating like a normal human, Cas.”
Sam chuckles softly and Dean turns to him, braced for his reaction. Everyone’s been kind about their relationship up here, but this is Sammy, Dean’s baby brother, his best friend. He cares about Sam’s opinion possibly more than anyone else he’s ever met.
Sam claps a heavy hand between Dean’s shoulder blades as he smiles at the two of them. “I’m happy for you guys,” he says. “You’re good for each other.” And, Dean swears, Sam looks a little teary again. Jesus, the past 40 years have made Sam a cry baby, apparently.
“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel says, and when Dean turns to look at him, he looks teary too.
“Alright, you babies,” Dean says to both of them. “No chick flick moments.”
Sam laughs at that, nudges Dean’s shoulder with his own. “Jerk,” he says.
“Bitch,” Dean answers, and he smiles at his brother as their mother gasps, “language!” as if she hasn’t heard them say worse.
The entire table breaks into laughter, and John drapes an arm over the back of Mary’s chair. “Sammy,” John says when the laughter dies down, “tell us about our grandson.”
As Sam launches into Dean Jr.’s life story, Cas leans against Dean’s shoulder. Dean moves so he can wrap an arm around Cas, and Cas rests his head against Dean’s shoulder as the two of them listen to Sam talk. Sam pauses in his speech to turn to Dean and Cas, and smirks at the way the two of them are twinned together.
“Don’t,” Dean warns, holding up a finger.
Sam holds his hands up in defense, “I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he says, and he launches back into his story with one last smile at the couple.
iii.
“You can have sex in Heaven?!”
Cas, sitting on his stupidly comfortable bed in the cottage, rolls his eyes. “The weather is always sunny and 70 degrees and there are no cars on the road, but sex is where you draw the line for believability?”
“I mean,” Dean falters. “Sex? I mean, Jack is basically a toddler and you’re a baby in a trenchcoat. Which one of you even decided you should be able to bone in the afterlife?”
“It was my idea,” Castiel answers, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed about it.
“But sex?” Dean asks for the millionth time since Cas brought it up. “Isn’t this supposed to be, like, holy land or whatever?”
Castiel’s eyebrows furrow. “There’s nothing sinful about sex, Dean,” he says, without all the usual human hangups about sex. “It was invented by my father as a way to bond, to share an incredibly intimate moment with your partner. It’s beautiful. Why wouldn’t it be in Heaven?”
Put like that, Cas makes it seem incredibly obvious. Dean sits on the bed beside Cas, consciously maintaining a bit of space between them, red hot at the suggestion that they have sex that sent him into this tailspin in the first place.
As if Castiel can read Dean’s mind, he says, “we don’t have to engage in intercourse if you feel uncomfortable, Dean.”
“Two things. First,” Dean says, holding up two fingers. “Call it ‘sex’ or ‘fucking’ or something like a normal person.”
“Apologies,” Castiel answers.
“Second,” Dean’s eyes drop to the floor and he scratches at the carpet with one socked foot. He can’t look Cas in the eyes. “It’s not like I don’t want to have sex with you. I just don’t really know what that means.”
Dean can almost hear the confusion on Castiel’s face. “Well, first both parties remove all their clothing-”
Dean holds his hand up to stop Cas. “I know logistically how it works,” he says. “I just don’t know what it means to do that with a man.” He looks up at Castiel and finds those stoic blue eyes trained on him. “To do it with you.”
“Oh,” Castiel answers, his gaze turning to the wall as he thinks. He rubs his lips together and Dean traces the movement with his eyes despite himself. “I think it means whatever we want it to.” He turns back to face Dean. “We’ve already been intimate before. Eating dinner together, sitting on the porch watching the sunset, falling asleep together. This would just be a different form of intimacy.”
Dean often makes fun of Castiel for his eccentric speech patterns, but he has a way of putting things, without the typical human baggage, that makes everything seem incredibly simple.
Dean closes the space between them and kisses Castiel. Castiel, as is usual when they kiss, rests both hands on Dean’s cheeks, his fingers splayed out against the skin like he’s holding Dean together, protecting him even now.
By the time they get down to it, Dean doesn’t even know why he was worried. Cas lays him bare and then puts him back together in the most beautiful way. It’s the best sex Dean’s ever had, and he’s not sure whether that’s because they’re in Heaven - where everything is beautiful and perfect - or because he’s with Cas. He suspects it’s the latter.
Afterwards, as they’re laying tangled in bed together, Cas traces his fingers over the scar on Dean’s shoulder.
“When did you start loving me?” Dean asks.
Castiel doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lines his hand up with the handprint on Dean’s shoulder. It matches perfectly, in a way no one else’s hand ever could.
“From the second I saved your soul,” he answers finally
iv.
It’s a few weeks before John really acknowledges it.
Dean’s in his dad’s shop, helping him fix up a beautiful ‘82 Mustang, when John says. “So. Castiel, huh?”
“Yup,” Dean answers. He wipes the sweat off his forehead with the collar of his shirt. “Weird guy, isn’t he?”
John laughs softly. “You can say that again,” he answers. He sits on a garage creeper beside the car. “You two are dating?”
Dean shrugs. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”
“Hm,” John hums. The two of them sit in a comfortable silence for a bit as Dean works underneath the car. When he finally emerges, the two of them sit on a cooler and share two beers. It always tastes like the first beer he shared with his dad: absolute ass, but perfect.
“You love him, son?” John asks. When Dean turns to him, his face questioning, John clarifies, “Castiel.”
Dean flushes. He knows, objectively, John doesn’t mind the fact that he and Cas are dating (if he did, they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all), but there’s something bizarre about discussing his same-sex relationship with his dad. “I do, yeah.”
John takes a long sip of his beer as he considers, and Dean echoes him. “I know I wasn’t the best father-”
“You always tried your best,” Dean interrupts.
John gives him a fond smile. “Let me finish.” Dean shuts his mouth and clinks his nails against the side of his bottle. “I know I wasn’t the best father, but I always wanted the best for you, Dean. I always wanted you to settle down and have a life with someone. Now, I thought that someone would be a woman,” they both chuckle, “but if you’re happy with Castiel, then, hell, I’m happy for you, son.”
Dean’s not wishy-washy like Sam and Cas, but he feels a tug in his heart at his father’s words. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Yep,” John answers. He takes another sip of his beer and then says, “your mother is cooking dinner tonight, her world famous meat lasagna.” Dean can feel his mouth watering just at the thought of it. “Your brother’s coming over. You should come, too.”
“Count me in,” Dean says quickly. “You know I’ll never say no to Mom’s meat lasagna.”
John laughs. “You got good taste, son.” He clears his throat and adds, “you should invite Castiel, if you think he’d like to come.”
Dean nods. “Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah, I’ll ask.”
“Good,” John answers. He slaps Dean’s knee and then stands up. “We got work to do, Dean, get to it.”
That night, Dean and Cas stand outside John and Mary’s house, dressed for dinner. Cas is a ball of nervous energy, despite the fact that he’s met and hung out with both John and Mary before.
“Relax,” Dean whispers to Cas.
“The first dinner with your boyfriend’s parents is an incredible honor,” Castiel whispers back, picking idly at the paper containing the bouquet he’d insisted on making.
Dean smiles at Castiel calling himself his boyfriend. “What kind of dime store novel did you read that from?” he teases.
Castiel stares stoically at the door as he knocks. “The movies,” he answers, referring to the (frankly awful) teen girl romances he likes to indulge in.
The door swings open then, revealing Mary in yet another white dress. “Dean!” She scoops Dean into a hug that instantly makes him feel 4 years old again, and he breathes in her shampoo. It’s over far too soon (he doesn’t think a hug with his mom would ever be long enough), and she turns to smile at Castiel. “And Castiel. It’s lovely to see you.”
She pulls Castiel into a tight hug, like he’s one of her sons. He smiles, something genuine, and answers, “likewise, Mary.” He presents the flowers when she pulls back. “I made you a bouquet. I plucked the flowers myself from my personal garden.”
Mary puts a hand to her heart as she takes the flowers. “Thank you, Castiel, they’re lovely.” She steps back a little bit so they can step inside. “Come in, come in.” She closes the door behind them, says, “I’m gonna put these in a vase,” and then she’s gone.
This house is an exact replica of their house in Lawrence before it burned down, and Dean breathes in the scent of nostalgia and his mother’s cooking. Sammy and John are already sitting in the living room, talking quietly, and they stand when Dean and Cas walk in.
“Heya, Sammy,” Dean greets as Sam walks over to hug him. They hug briefly, and then Sam turns to greet Cas with a similarly big hug.
John stands behind Sam, and shakes Dean’s hand when Sam moves back from the couple. “Son,” he greets. “Nice to see you.”
It’s as warm of a greeting as Dean thinks his dad is capable of, and Dean smiles at him. “Hey, Dad.”
John moves over to Castiel, who looks all of 15 years old, buzzing with nervous energy around his boyfriend’s dad. “Castiel.”
Cas, an angel of the Lord, a former warrior in Heaven’s army, an ex-god, bows his head in respect to John. “Sir,” he answers.
John looks between Dean and Sam, who looks equal parts shell-shocked and amused by Castiel’s sudden deference, and then back at Cas. “I understand you protected my boys.”
“Yes sir,” Castiel replies. “I tried my best to be a fierce warrior for them.”
John sizes Castiel up. Dean wonders what he sees. Does he see a 5’11 mid-40s man in a trenchcoat? Or does he see Castiel for the always loyal and ever fierce protector he is?
John must see something he approves of in Cas’ steely gaze, because he nods stoically and holds out a hand towards Cas. Cas shakes John’s hand as John says, “welcome to the family, son,” and the room exhales.
From the doorway, Mary laughs softly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Now that you’re done initiating Castiel,” she teases John, “can I invite you all to the table? Dinner’s served.”
Sam bounds over to the dining room, wraps his arm around his mom’s shoulders and leads her as he goes. John isn’t far behind, smiling fondly at his family. Dean’s itching to join them, his mouth watering at the smell of the lasagna, but Castiel catches him with a hand on his wrist.
Dean turns to Cas, but Cas says nothing, just smiles at Dean. “What?” Dean asks.
“Nothing,” Castiel answers. He leans in forward to kiss Dean, rests a hand on Dean’s lower back. “Just love you.”
“I love you too,” Dean says. “But if you ever keep me from my mama’s lasagna ever again, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
Castiel frowns and tilts his head. “That’s an interesting dilemma. Can you kill someone in Heaven?”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Food now, philosophy later,” and he corrals Castiel into the kitchen.
v.
Jack ends up returning.
He won’t say where he’s been, other than he’s been “busy”, but it seems the first item on his to-do list since returning is bothering Dean about where he’s going to live.
Dean has been bouncing from house to house since he arrived, staying most often at Castiel’s cottage or his parents’ house, but Jack tells him upon his return that it just won’t do to be a drifter.
“The lake is beautiful,” Castiel says one night, both of them sitting in the cottage’s living room, their feet tangled together under a big, fluffy blanket. Sam complained to Jack about the lack of seasons, so now they have seasons - always a perfect, postcard version of them. It’s winter now, and just the right amount of cold to bundle up in cozy sweaters or under big blankets, but not so cold they’re freezing.
“It would be good for you to live there,” Cas continues. “Or you could live closer to your parents. Or next to Sam, on the ranch. I could see you two together, a couple of farm boys.” Cas sighs wistfully, looks into the fire roaring in their fireplace as if he’s imagining a picturesque scene of Dean and Sam on a farm somewhere.
Dean pinches him. Cas, ever the drama queen, reacts “ouch!” and rubs the spot as he glares at Dean. “Don’t fantasize about my brother.”
“I’m not,” Cas answers. Apparently, he decides to forgive Dean, because he leans back into Dean’s side with his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m trying to help you decide where to live. You know Jack isn’t going to drop it.”
Dean sighs. Cas is probably right. Jack is stubborn, just like his fathers. “I don’t wanna live anywhere,” he says.
He’s never had anywhere that was his own home. In Lawrence, he lived with his parents. As a child and into his 20s, through shitty motels and sleeping in the Impala. The house he shared with Lisa was hers, and even the Men of Letters’ bunker wasn’t his, not really. He’s always done better in other people’s spaces, surrounded by the people he loves. He doesn’t know why he needs to change his ways now.
“I just wanna stay here with you,” Dean adds.
That triggers something in Castiel. He shoots up, making Dean go flying from where he’s suddenly lost Cas’ weight. He struggles to catch himself before he falls off the couch. Cas, who oscillates wildly between incredibly vigilant and the most unperceptive person Dean’s ever met, doesn’t notice.
“You could live here with me,” Castiel says.
Dean’s brain short-circuits. “Huh?”
“I’m serious!” Castiel bounces with unbridled excitement (he never, Dean learned, figured out how to reign in his enthusiasm). “You like living here, I like you living here. It makes sense.”
“You want me to move in with you?” Dean asks. Castiel nods quickly. “Cas. That’s pretty serious.”
Castiel tilts his head, genuine confusion written over his face. “Are we not pretty serious?”
Dean thinks about it. On one hand, they’ve only been dating for a few weeks; it would be absolutely insane to move in with someone he’s only been dating for a few weeks. On the other hand, this is Cas. Cas, his best friend of 11 years. The man who saved him from the pit and rebuilt him, piece-by-piece. Who has seen Dean at his worst, his best, who has seen him stripped bare, physically and emotionally, and loves him, scars and all. Who saw all of humanity pass him by for millenia and decided to throw everything away for Dean.
Of course they’re serious. They’ve been serious ever since Castiel branded him all those years ago.
Dean breaks into a goofy smile. He can’t help himself; Cas’ childlike energy is contagious. “I guess we are pretty serious,” he says, and he leans forward to kiss Cas, all slow and dirty.
Cas pulls back from the kiss too soon and fixes Dean with a wide smile. “So you’ll do it?” he asks. “You’ll move in with me?”
Dean nods and Castiel’s smile widens, if possible. He summons a key (a remnant of some grace) and holds it out towards Dean. “Welcome home, Dean,” he says, and Dean feels a little choked up as he closes his fist around the key.
26 year old Dean would roll his eyes if he could see this: Dean almost weeping receiving an otherwise meaningless key to a dude’s cabin (all the doors in Heaven are unlocked), but this Dean doesn’t care. He’s been to Hell and back, literally, lost and lost and lost, he’s been beaten and broken more times than he can count, exhausted more often than not, and he deserves this, goddamnit. He deserves to be cozy in front of a fire. He deserves uncomplicated love. He deserves forever, forever with Cas.
He doesn’t voice any of this to Castiel, but he thinks Cas understands anyway. Dean leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Cas’ lips, and, as Cas presses closer and kisses back, the key falls, forgotten somewhere between them.
It doesn’t matter. Dean’s finally home.
END