the decision is made when it’s cold outside, wind making the shutters patter against the windows and bringing a chill into their home. it’s still mostly empty, a mattress in front of the fire serving as their bed until they can afford more, but it feels complete. whole. the warmth of the other beside them filling in every empty space.
they can’t stop touching each other, watching each other, eyes wide and hands worshipful as the weight of what they are doing settles over them. it’s never just sex with them, of course, but there’s something particularly special about this. they breathe as slowly as they move, hips rolling and breath ghosting over each other’s mouths. they’ll have a family soon, a new life growing when they both thought themselves capable only of destruction. but that’s part of what’s so profound, isn’t it - they are always proving each other wrong.
dean’s eyes are the first to wet. he squeezes them shut, buries his face against cas’ neck, and cas’ throat feels thick, suddenly, as he clutches at the broad stretch of dean’s shoulders and feels the muscles there flex and move as he fucks into him. cas presses his face against dean’s, holds him tighter and whispers (”please,” perhaps, or “i need you” - or maybe just “dean,” that one word always so heavy and expansive from his mouth). castiel is still new to this, at feeling without fear or barriers or distance, but dean, as always, gently guides him, hushes him and holds him and loves him until the feelings start to melt and build and overwhelm him spectacularly.
dean comes and cas finally cries. cups dean’s face in his palms and nods, again and again, though he isn’t sure what it is he’s agreeing to. dean kisses him then, keeps moving and touching and kissing until cas is crying out too.
the fire is down to a faint flicker by the time dean is finally able to pull himself away. they are both a sight - hair mussed and matted, faces flushed and relaxed, tired but so content. cas turns to sleepily watch dean slide out from under their pile of patchy quilts, smiles when he hears dean hiss as his bare feet touch the cold floor. dean fusses with the fire until he’s satisfied and is soon with cas again, curving around his back and pulling him back against him. his hands resettle on the softness of cas’ stomach, touch as reverent and impatient as cas feels.
castiel knows the science behind pregnancy, the biology of this body he has taken. it’s not a miracle. but here, falling asleep in dean’s arms, in a home they have fought so hard to warm, happiness - this does feel a little miraculous. he lowers a hand, touch feather light, to his tummy, and feels dean press a kiss to his hair. they have much to do, he thinks. for now they rest.
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear
