Happy 2nd anniversary to those two old guys from supernatural [[ao3]]
Their room is a mess.
It’s not their fault; though they’re largely retired, Claire and Kaia needed backup on a nearby mystery monster situation. So Cas’d cracked open the books and Dean had packed a duffle and when they’d stopped hearing from the kids, they’d gone in after them. ’Course, by the time they’d gotten back they’d pretty much just shed their viscera-covered clothing and dropped into bed.
Bright winter sun streams in through the window, causing Dean to groan and Cas to burrow further into his pillow. The duffle has been thrown at the closet door, the thing busted open and swollen with weaponry. Cas’s angel blade thigh holster hangs off the bottom-right bed post and Dean’s gun sits atop the dresser. The room smells like sewage and monster guts, which isn’t exactly ideal for a second wedding anniversary, but Dean figures they’ve done worse; last year, Jack had been so sick they’d spent the day trying to stop his puking.
But Jack is with Sam and Eileen today, and after a shower and a change of sheets, Operation: Oops We Did It Again can finally commence. Starting, hopefully, with a vat of coffee and Dean getting fucked silly as many times as they can swing it.
“Cas,” he whines, eyes closed. He shakes his shoulder. “Coffee.”
“You do it,” Cas says.
“Did it last time.”
Cas slaps at Dean’s hands. “M’gonna burn it.”
“S’automatic, you loser.”
“Can’t.” He rolls over. Tucking his face into the juncture of Dean’s neck, Cas applies half-asleep kisses everywhere he can reach, mumbling nonsense about how good and strong Dean is, how he’s the best provider and so manly and wouldn’t he prefer to make the coffee?
Dean stumbles out of bed grumbling.
Cas smiles. “I love you,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.
Yeah, Dean bets he does.
By the time he comes back with two mugs and his present under his arm, Cas has moved from his side of the bed to Dean’s, his head face-down in Dean’s pillow. Dean still has no idea how he manages to breathe like that. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. C’mon.”
Cas groans.
“Cas, seriously. There’s shit all over the room, I need you to grab this.”
He rises from the bed like a zombie from the grave, sitting up and offering his hands. As soon as the mug is cupped between his palms he sighs. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“Kiss.”
Dean grins. Pecks his mouth. “We’re so nasty,” he says. “Feel like I need to go through a human car wash.”
“Mm.” His blue eyes are only barely open. “Made it though.”
“Yeah by the skin of our teeth.” Dean frowns at his mug. “Gettin’ old.”
“For fighting, maybe. For everything else...” Cas shrugs. Smiles. “I think you deserve a real retirement.”
Dean purses his lips. They haven’t really talked about going whole hog on their apple pie life yet, and it’s not something he really wants to think about; if his family’s in trouble, he’s just supposed to sit around with his thumb up his ass? He’d never leave Jack, how could he leave Claire and Kaia?
“We don’t have to decide right now,” Cas says, clearly more awake. He shrugs. “It might be something to think about. I don’t like it, but Sam and Eileen’s network has been doing great things. And I think we scared Claire.”
“Yeah,” Dean chews his lip, distracted. “Maybe.”
“...Is that for me?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Smiling, again, Dean takes the badly-wrapped package from under his arm and offers it. “It’s, uh, nothin’, y’know. Just... yeah. Happy anniversary.”
Cas kisses him, soft and sweet. “What is it?”
“You have to open it, you dork.”
“Alright, well...” Cas stretches and reaches under the bed, bringing up a present of his own. “Happy anniversary to you, too.”
Dean grins. “Open mine first.”
Cas’s gift is a riotously coloured cotton sweatshirt and short set. The thing looks like it’s been pulled right out of the 90s, soft and bright and Cas smiles so big his gums show. “I’m going to wear it once I’ve showered.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He leans in for another kiss, grinning when Dean chases as he pulls away. “Open yours.”
Dean shakes his head, moving to press soft, wet kisses across Cas’s top lip. “Wanna make it last.”
Cas gives as good as he gets, shuffling until he’s practically in Dean’s lap. Their empty mugs have gotten lost in the dirty sheets somewhere, hands holding and squeezing and grabbing as the kiss deepens to something sexy and slow. Cas has this way this way of kissing that makes it feel like the main event. “Trust me,” he breathes. “We’re going to want what’s in there for the next part.”
“The shower?” Dean teases, leaning in again.
Cas nips his bottom lip. “The sex.”
Dean tears into the wrapping paper.
“Oh hell yeah.”
Sheets.
“Egyptian cotton,” Cas grins. “500 thread count.”
“Mm, talk dirty to me.”
“Single-ply,” he says lowly. “Hand-dyed.”
“Oh baby.”
They beam at each other.
“Thanks, man,” Dean says. “I love ’em.”
“That’s only part of your gift,” he explains matter-of-factly. “I also plan to fuck you on those sheets. And to have pizza delivered later.”
“Hot.”
They make-out for longer than they probably should given how gross they are, until Cas is trying to hump him like some over-eager teenager and Dean is rapidly forgetting why they shouldn’t just add to the mess (the answer: that would be disgusting). “Sweetheart, we gotta—we should—”
“What if we just, ah, like this. Then later—”
Dean shakes his head. “Want it to last. I want—”
“I can do that. I can—fuck—”
“Cas, if you come without fucking me I’m gonna be pissed.”
Cas wrenches away, frustrated. “Then just let me—”
“Woah,” Dean interrupts. “What’s the rush? Sweetheart, hey. Castiel.” But Cas refuses to meet his eyes. Dean cups his face. Cas grips his wrists. “Talk to me.”
“I love you,” he blurts out.
Dean frowns. “Yeah, I love you, too.”
“I love you so much,” Cas says, like it’s a confession. Like it’s being ripped out of him. “I’m here. We’re married. We almost died. And I just—Dean, I don’t know—There’s something wrong with me, I—”
Dean’s eyes soften. “Nah, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Sorry,” Cas croaks, squeezing his eyes shut as if to stop himself from crying. “I want you. I-I want—So I don’t understand why I’m—I was fine. I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “You are.” His dirty fingers thumb away tear tracks from the apple of Cas’s cheek. “Look, sometimes... we think we’re fine but we’re overwhelmed, y’know? S’okay.”
“I wanted to take care of you today.”
“Who says the day’s over?” Dean asks. “We’re gonna go take a nice long shower and I’m gonna wash your hair, and then I’m gonna go order like 40 pizzas and choose a movie, ’cause you owe me for coffee this morning. Then we’ll shove everything in the wash, and change the sheets, and you’re gonna fuck me so good I’ll feel it for the rest of the week.” Cas huffs a laugh. Dean smiles. “Darlin’,” he murmurs. “We’ll talk about hunting.”
Cas bites his lip. “I don’t want to die,” he breathes. “I only just got you back.”
The smallness of his voice hangs in the air between them. Dean feels something in him break. “...Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “I know.”
“But I don’t want to leave Claire if she needs help,” Cas argues with himself. “And you love hunting, I don’t want—”
“Alright well, first of all I don’t love hunting.”
“You know what I mean.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Dean promises. “We always do.” They’re quiet as he rubs at the cut of Cas’s jaw, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. “Not to change the subject or anything,” he eventually says. “But that was some serious real adult shit right there.” Cas rolls his red-rimmed eyes. Dean puffs out his chest. “C’mon, you gonna tell me I didn’t just make that conversation my bitch? I win at relationships, man.”
Despite the smile creeping across his face, Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Whatever, I’m totally winning.”
Cas squints. “You routinely put things away without asking where they go. And then you forget about them, like a squirrel.”
“Please, you leave your shit all over the place. What am I supposed to do? Just walk right on by?”
“Yes! You...” Cas trails off, eyeing Dean’s shit-eating grin with a grimace. “Fine. Yes. Thank you. You’re very good at relationships.”
“Some would even say...” Dean prompts.
“They’d be wrong,” Cas says simply. “If the sample size is the rest of our lives, there’s no way to tell you’ve won yet.” A shrug. “And as we aren’t even through the whole day today, the jury still seems to be out on that, too. Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry.
Dean hums. “So what you’re saying is, we should get in the shower to figure out who’s better.”
“As a start, yes.”
“Cool.”
Dean’s halfway to the bathroom when he suddenly pulled into a hug. Cas steps in and around until they’re pressed chest to chest, clinging to him in a way that would have broken bones if he was still an angel. He pulls away with a kiss to Dean’s closed mouth. “Thank you,” he says emphatically. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop being thankful for it.”
A blush explodes across the bridge of Dean’s nose. “That’s cheating.”
“I meant it.”
Dean looks at him, helpless. “Cas.”
Cas stares his fill until he’s apparently done, nodding to himself before leading Dean, by the hand, into the bathroom. “Come.”
I haven’t been practicing as much as I should or would like to but...doodles happen. pls be kind u~u this week I’ll be working on facial features and proportions...the issue is I’m learning from different styles while trying to find my own. So sjsdlkjsfjlkskjfsdlkj...I’m struggling but fuck it, have some somewhat horny mcdanno because it’s been a shit week and I deserve it!
The McDanno looks of this posts reminded me of a scene of that ‘Danny gets a prince albert to not do anything stupid to spite Steve after he leaves bc of Shelbourne and they never really defined their relationship’ wip I have. So because I don’t at all know what the time table for it is, here’s a bit because I have no self control.
“So...this your game plan? Stalk me on my off time?”
“Intervene, meddle, and crash every ‘date’. Yeah,” Steve nodded, using air quotes on the word date. “That guy was a loser! I did you a favor!”
“What if I just wanted a drink? Huh?”
“You can have a drink with the team, or at my place. Or yours. Cheaper. Better. This wasn’t because you were thirsty. If it were, you wouldn’t be going to an overpriced tourist trap.”
“Alright, maybe it’s not about the drink. Maybe it’s an escape from feeling like an unwanted outsider! Maybe I just wanted a night away from being reminded how far away from home I actually am! Maybe make a friend.”
That cut deeper than he wanted it to, mostly because even if Danny was exaggerating to make a point, it was still a valid point to be made. Danny didn’t think of Hawaii as home and his leaving probably didn’t make it any better. He wasn’t here as Danny’s boss and only slightly here as Danny’s friend. He was in front of Danny as a remorseful lover who fucked up and wanted to fix what they had. But he’s never had a real relationship. Not one that mattered or that he thought he could be proud of. Or one he wanted to pursue.
He thought of Danny every free moment he had while he was away. Worried for a variety of reasons. About their relationship, first and foremost. About his safety without being there to watch his back, no matter how much he trusted the skills of the cousins. There was more to the job than what they did in the field. He accepted the Governor's offer and all that came with it, and he wasn’t blind that it was offered to him for his status and repertoire. He had no idea what him suddenly leaving would fully mean for the team and their perks once he was gone.
He could just stand back. Let the pieces fall where they may. Well, he has! The thought of Danny with anyone else literally made him sick. He’ll deny it and have it back up his claim of needing to drive or he’ll get carsick. He even tried giving Catherine another chance in hopes he could go back to whatever he was doing during his time in the Navy to keep suspicion off of him not being straight. But that backfired and he hopes they won’t need help from her any time soon. Maybe in time he’ll forgive her for thinking about Danny and calling out his name when he reached climax with her going down on him but she’s blocked his number and he doesn’t blame her. His concern is still highly on getting Danny back so if it’s a wake up call for each of them at least they knew where they stand now.
“If that’s all there is then they wouldn’t mind meeting your other friends,” Steve said stubbornly. He fought for what he believed in and after what they had, he had to fight for them.
“And if I need a life outside of you?”
Steve wished that would be more sarcastic, but the pain in Danny’s eyes was too real and he hates himself for causing it.
“I’m not good at being away from you.”
Danny scoffed, “Really?”
“I had to follow that lead. Maybe it’s pretentious to say I know you understand that, but you do. But I came back. And...it wasn’t because I was born here. Because I have a family legacy here. I came back...because you’re here. If you were to have found a way to get Grace back to Jersey, I’d go there.”
“If Rachel did another bitch move and took Grace to England?”
“Honestly? I’d call in some favors to keep her from doing it. But if she managed that bullshit, I got connections with guys who set up living arrangements for people anywhere, and I’d get us a place as close to Grace as possible.”
“...and if I just want to fuck my way out of the feelings I have for you?”
“Assuming they don’t run off because I’m looming by or with a black eye then...I’ll wait.”
“Wait?”
“Until you get bored. Until you get tired. I fucked up, trust me, not a moment’s passed where I don’t remember that, but what we had doesn’t go away. It hasn’t. As angry as you are at me right now...you still care. You want ‘us’ as badly as I do.”
His biggest fear is being wrong about that. That Danny didn’t care as much as he did, so as much as he hates not being able to automatically pick up where they left off, Danny’s anger at being left behind means he cares. More genuinely than anyone has cared about Steve in too long. Maybe even ever.
“I need time, Steven...”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, good. Means we’re not over. Just need to mend.”
“Can we really be over when we never officially started?”
“With loopholes like that...even if we go slow in the relationship part...if I invite you over for a beer. Will you come?”
“...no.”
“Oh...”
“I honestly didn’t come here to fuck anyone, you schmuck. I can’t right now anyway.”
“What? Why not?” When Danny didn’t seem to want to answer, he prompted, “Danny, why not?”
“I’m still healing from my piercing...”
“Piercing? What piercing will keep you fro-” his eyes zero in on Danny’s crotch. A jolt of arousal at the imagery in his mind went straight to his own cock, “You got pierced while I was away, Danno?”
“Maybe. I got used to certain level of recklessness with you around. Suddenly, everything’s too orderly. And...I didn’t want to do anything stupid out of petty spite I’d regret later. This...ensured it.”
“Can I see it?”
“You track me down, act all possessive and caveman like and made a show of personally returning the drink someone got for me, and now you’re asking to see me naked?”
“You don’t have to get naked to show me your cock.”
“You’re an animal, you know that?”
“None of that has been a no. Come back to my place. Give me a show.”
“You haven’t earned a show.”
------
they continue to banter, steve takes danny back to his place, doesn’t get a show but they at least know they want to work through their relationship-y things.
“I said to him ‘close your eyes and pretend we’re in a dream’ and his answer was to pull me close and kiss me. He said he hoped he would never wake up then.”
Edit: Apparently the coloured version is too naughty for tungle, so it goes under the cut.
Based off of @cas-sanctuary‘s lovely fic which is based on this
All things considered, it could be worse. Sure, they have arguments and off days, but they’ve been lucky enough to keep their jobs. They play video games and cook and bake and fuck, and when Cas finds the dumb video on twitter, he’s bored enough to think it’s hilarious. So, he throws an ear to where he knows Dean is playing Animal Crossing over the phone with Sam, and strips. Taps at his phone. Decides to make this really interesting.
This isn’t the first time Cas has walked into a room in the buff.
“Fine, bitch. Wait, how much do they charge for peaches on Sam’s Hairtastic Bonanza Island? No way I’m bringing my fine-ass fruit if you’re gonna---fuck off Samuel---”
“Dean,” Cas says, thumb held at the ready.
“Yeah, Cas, just a sec, Sam is fuckin’ low-balling me---”
Cas presses his screen.
The most famous pennywhistle solo in musical history disturbs the peace of the room, and Castiel raises his phone-cum-microphone. Haunted, Dean almost break his neck in his haste to look up. “Oh my god, Cas, you asshole---”
The look on his face is indeed hilarious.
Confused, at first, like he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. Castiel thinks this is probably fair; it isn’t every day that a six-foot tall naked man lip sync’s Celine Dion’s “My Hear Will Go On”. From there, it’s the stages of grief, flashing quickly across Dean’s face. Green eyes don’t seem to know where to look, and by the time Cas is dramatically lip syncing the first chorus, a doofy smile is slowly tugging up Dean’s mouth. He gives Cas a once-twice-three-times-over, catching on the ridge of his hip and the curve of his ass and the beauty mark near his nipple, and when Cas steps forward, he hangs up the phone without even looking at it, tossing all the electronics onto the couch.
Cas really works it: a hand in his hair, furrowing his brows, raising the phone high as he mouths the words as if he’s lip syncing for his life. He’s so into it, he doesn’t see Dean moving until he’s on him, hands skating over Cas’s thighs and lifting and they almost overbalance, the phone clatters onto the floor---Dean!---but Cas throws his arms around freckled shoulders and they’re stumbling---somewhere.
Cas is too busy laughing through Dean’s half-kisses to be concerned.
“You’re so annoying,” Dean mutter-grins into his mouth. “You’re so---god---”
Cas snorts and they fall back onto the couch, arching into the way Dean presses wet kisses down his neck and chest. He makes some joyful, breathless sound as Dean struggles to get his sweats and t-shirt off and nearly falls off the furniture for his efforts, and by the time the song is building to its crescendo, Cas is lip syncing with big gestures despite his prone position. Dean’s laughing so hard their touches are messy and uncoordinated and dear, and it takes a couple tries to find a kiss that sticks.
Do they fuck to Celine Dion on a Tuesday afternoon? Yes.
Cas is sitting against the headboard, legs crossed at his ankles and reading a book. He’s wearing the gross hole-y Metallica shirt he loves to sleep in, clad in his orange undies, and his thighs are flushed from the shower. He’s frowning at whatever’s on the page; thick, black-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose.
Fuck, Dean’s a total goner.
He approaches carefully, murmuring a hey as he crawls over the mattress. Cas hums his response, his concentrated expression turning into a crooked grin as Dean leans in to kiss him, plucking the book from his hand and placing it gently on the nightstand. He does the same with Cas’s glasses and Castiel sighs, draping his arms around bare, freckled shoulders.
“Mm, you used the new shampoo bar,” he says, running fingers through Dean’s wet hair.
Dean smirks. “Woulda been rude not to.”
“You smell amazing.”
“Mmhm.”
Dean has always liked making out. Outside front doors, in supply closets, in bed, in Baby... he’s just a really huge fan of being close and tangled up. He likes making out aimlessly and going hot and heavy. It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s nice.
Dean likes making out with Cas.
They’ve just started, sharing sweet little exploratory things before one of them decides to take it further, and this is probably Dean’s favourite part: when Cas nips at his mouth, and hikes his leg at Dean’s hip, and without using his tongue somehow makes Dean’s toes curl. Of course, when Cas does use his tongue and all bets are off, but for now...
“Fuck,” Dean breathes, moving down press a line of kisses along Cas’s jaw. “I fuckin’ love you.”
“Oh is that what all those long, soulful looks mean?” Castiel teases.
“Like you’re not ten times worse, Mr. I’ll watch over you.”
Cas hums happily, but doesn’t deny it, pulling Dean up for another kiss that he immediately deepens. Dean friggen’ likes this too: the way Cas starts undulating against him ’cause he just can’t help himself. Dean reaches between them to cup the growing bulge between Castiel’s legs and the dude gives an aborted moan.
“Lemme hear you,” Dean breathes.
“Dean, we can’t---”
“C’mon, it’s late, no one’s up---”
“Oh---”
“That’s it, sweetheart.”
Cas arches against him and Dean takes away his hand to hold him as close as possible, hips moving together as they give up on kissing to pant into the same space. “Fuck, Cas, I---”
“Me, too. God, Dean---”
And then the door opens.
“Hey Dad, Pops, I need some help with---OH MY GOD!”
Cas flings Dean off of him with strength that makes Dean question if he’s really lost all his grace, immediately pulling the sheets up to his already t-shirt-clad chest like a scandalized Victorian countess while Dean bounces off the wall and ends up a crumpled pile next to the bed. He hears scrambling as he groans in pain, working his bad shoulder. Cas’s head pops up. His glasses are totally crooked.
“Dean, I am so sorry---”
“OH MY GOD---EW---OH GROSS---”
Dean rolls his eyes from his place on the ground, totally ignoring the way Cas---now that he knows no one is seriously injured---is trying not to laugh. Meanwhile, Emma is so loud Claire decides to see what the commotion’s about.
“OH MY GOD WERE YOU GONNA HAVE SEX? WE LIVE HERE!”
“YOU’VE BEEN MARRIED FOR LIKE FIVE HUNDRED YEARS WHAT DO YOU STILL HAVE SEX FOR.”
“I AM SCARRED FOR LIFE. FOR LIFE---”
Cas’s huffs of laughter taper off, but his gummy smile stays. He helps Dean back onto the bed, kissing his cheek with feeling. “Are you okay?”
Dean grunts. “Think my ego’s bruised more than anything. Might have fucked up my shoulder again, though.”
“I’m sorry,” Cas murmurs. He presses his mouth to Dean’s injured shoulder. “Reparations?”
“Another kiss’d be nice.”
Cas raises a brow. “Now?”
“MY EYES---”
“YOU’RE SO OLD---”
Dean looks at their screaming progeny and nods. “Yep.” He exaggeratedly pops the ‘p’ before pursing his lips in clear expectation. Cas rolls his eyes.
“OH EW YOU’RE KISSING NOW?!”
“WHERE’S THE DECENCY?! THE HUMANITY?! WE’RE YOUR KIDS!”
Dean knows he has vices. Between the drinking and the fighting and the smoking when he gets really stressed—the needing to hunt something, an itchy feeling that starts in his fingers, when he stays in one place for too long… the turning tricks when he was little. The stealing. The lying. Dean’s got enough vices to go around.
But this is the worst one.
“Dean…”
Castiel is the best person Dean has ever known. He’s pure goodness—even the things he does wrong, he does them trying to do right. He’s sweet and thoughtful and he just gives himself to other people, like that’s not dangerous; like it’s not opening himself to hurt and heartbreak and that’s not amazing. He touches Dean knowing what happened in Hell. He kisses him knowing everything that happened after.
And Dean’s a piece of shit because he kisses back. He’s greedy; he holds Castiel with the intention of never letting go. He drinks him in like a dying man in a desert.
“That’s it, sweetheart, c’mon. Let go for me, now. Let me see it.”
Cas, as always, obliges. He arches up and whimpers and he’s the most beautiful thing Dean’s ever seen. Dean touches him through it; kissing him with a hand still between his legs, palming up his belly and past his ribcage to his chest. Cas looks at him with a faint smile. He’s heaving with breath and he’s lovely. He looks at Dean like he hung the fucking moon.
“Now you,” Castiel murmurs, running fingers over the apple of his cheek.
Dean feels like a thief.
He doesn’t deserve him—wouldn’t even if he wasn’t a hunter—but he keeps Cas anyway.
