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When Dean gets Castiel back from the Empty, he beats feet straight to the bunker. Screeching the Impala’s tires on the garage floor, he throws himself out of the car like a man possessed the second the car stops moving. Castiel follows more sedately, the worry on his face growing by the second. Dean circles in place for a moment, hair clutched in his hands, in obvious distress. He hadn’t said a word the entire break neck ride home from the nameless forest in Nebraska they had emerged in. Nor had he looked at his friend, and hadn’t touched him longer than to grab the sleeve of his coat and drag him to the car.
Dean came to an abrupt stop, facing the back wall of the garage.
“Dean, are you alright? Is something wrong?” Castiel stood stock still at the corner of the car, afraid to get in Dean’s way.
Dean waved his hands in an agitated motion as he rushed to a counter situated in his line of sight. Once there, he snatched something with a small scraping sound, holding it up to the light. Castiel couldn’t make out what it was, but he spied a plate pushed behind some tools with half-eaten food on it as Dean took off again, this time for the tool cabinet. He rummages around in the drawers for half a second, before pulling something close into his chest.
Castiel caught the strain in his back and bicep as Dean leveraged something against an obviously sturdy object. Dean cried in triumph, a small pinging sound following the flash of some metal falling to the floor. Castiel eyed the thing-the snipped-off tines of one of the bunker’s engraved forks. He didn’t notice that Dean had started back to him, still working what was presumably the handle of the former fork with a pair of pliers. Dean stopped close to Castiel and finally- finally -looked him in the eyes.
Dean’s eyes searched Castiel’s for a moment, before he sighed.
“Now that you’re back, I’m not losing you again. Would you wear this for me?”
Castiel extended his right hand for the object still clutched in Dean’s fist, but Dean batted it away with a huff. Dean grabbed the side of Castiel’s left hand, turning the wrist so the fingers splayed out. He slides the ring on Castiel’s finger, holding his hand and staring at it a moment before dropping it like he’d been burned. Dean stepped back on his back foot, putting a breath of space between them, but didn’t take his eyes off Castiel’s hand where it had drifted back to his side. Dean pushed a hand through his already wrecked hair.
“That’s, well. That’s…”
Castiel’s eyes softened, his head tilting ever so slightly. He cast his eyes around for a moment, searching, before landing on a nearby tool tray that held exactly what he was looking for. Inspecting the large hex nut for a moment before deeming it satisfactory, he then reached for the hand that was currently locked on the left side of Dean’s head. They both watched intently as the nut slid past the first knuckle. It stuck shortly after the second. Their eyes met again in panic.
“Oh..” Dean starts, “OH!” he reaches over and grabs a pot of engine grease that had been awaiting Baby before this whole debacle had started.
Dean scooped out a liberal amount of the viscous fluid- too much, a large dollop plopped to the floor- and rubbed it into the skin of his finger. Rubbed some on the nut for good measure and pushed it the last few centimeters, until it rested comfortably in the crease of his finger.
Smiling shyly, he looked up at Castiel through his lashes, “‘s not like it’s ever gonna come off anyway,” Dean rubbed the surface of the ring with his thumb.
Castiel beamed at him for a split second, before dive bombing right into Dean’s lips. He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair where he’d been pulling, soothing it back down. He felt Dean’s hands settle on his hips, gripping the cloth there as if afraid Castiel would melt away. Dean softened the kiss after a while, pulling back and resting their foreheads together, keeping his eyes closed.
The sound of a door closing knocked them out of their stupor, Dean turned, but did not break contact. Castiel had the feeling that Dean needed to feel grounded in the touch of their skin together, and didn’t move away.
“FINALLY,” Sam shouted, shoving his hands into his pockets. Sam rocked back on his heels, grinning. “You’re gone for days, and the only thing you can think to do when you get back is to make out with your boyfriend?”
“Husband,” Dean whispered.
“Pretty sure you have to go before a judge for that, and last I knew we were still wanted by the feds, so…” Sam’s eyebrows reached for his hairline.
Dean sent him a snarky side-eye, “Pretty sure we’re in good with God, so I think it’ll pass. Besides, we have a printer here in the bunker to make up his new badges if we need.”
Castiel opened his eyes, confused, “Why would I need new badges? I didn’t lose the old ones.”
Dean turned his eyes back and tapped the ring on Castiel’s left hand, “You get a new last name with this, Cas.”
Castiel hummed in contentment, “Winchester. I think I could live with that.”
Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulder softly, taking in the feeling of blood flakes dropping through his fingers. He pulled his husband back in for another kiss, knowing he was going to lose track of a lot of time this way. He found he didn’t mind.
Art by the wonderful ColorlessJay! You can find them on Tumblr and their commissions info is at https://colorlessjay.carrd.co/#coms