“Oh, well, in that case I am unsure.”
They look at me confused, tilting their head slightly to the side much like I do when I'm confused about something. “But you have friends, don't you?”
1,509 words of aplatonic Cas trying to answer Jack's question of "how do you make friends?" I wanted some apl Cas because I see more Dean than him and he is aplatonic-spec in my opinion. This is for the @aplatonics-assemble aplatonic event as well.
No archive warnings, gen, Castiel & Jack, 1509, Aplatonic Castiel, Nonbinary Jack
Everybody Loves A Parade (Except Dean Winchester) by darkshrimpemotions (jujubiest) @darkshrimpemotions
Rating: Teen and up
Word Count: 2k
Dean Winchester may be openly bisexual, but he's also a grump and a workaholic who's never been to a Pride parade.
Just in time for Pride month, this fic is one I have revisited a few times and it always leaves me feeling warm and fuzzy. It's a quick read, but it's really soft and sweet.
Jack stops into Dean's bar after he gets separated from his dad (Cas) at Pride. Dean is a bit of a scrooge when it comes to the Pride parade, but Jack's sweet earnestness and smoking hot father pull him out of his mood.
I particularly like the little details about Dean's past and the way he feels hopeful to see a new generation encountering a less hostile world. Also, the chemistry between Dean and Cas is amazing. They are drawn to each other in a really compelling way.
dean/cas but jack-centric, nb jack, 5k, rated t, outsider pov for the first half
Jack just looks at them, then asks, almost shyly, "How did you know?"
Taylor blinks. "How did I know I was nonbinary?"
He nods, and just like that, Taylor gets it.
This isn't about them. This isn’t about them at all. Not even a little bit. This is about Jack.
*****
“So,” Cas starts, turning around as he dries his mostly clean hands on a spare dish towel. “What’s going on, Jack?”
“Um, I met someone at school today.”
Aha. Cas thinks he knows what’s happening here. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Jack smiles and continues, “Their name is Taylor. We’re friends now. But they said something earlier in class, and I asked them about it and we talked, and I think I realized something. About myself.”
Cas hums and waits for Jack to go on, refusing to rush him. He wants to let him take his time with whatever it is he needs to say.
The air in the house stills as Jack takes a deep breath, then exhales, “I’m nonbinary.”
Cas tilts his head to the side. He’s not quite sure he understands what Jack means.
“I’m nonbinary,” Jack repeats, stronger now but still just barely wavering. “I don’t—I don’t really feel like a boy. Not really. I still wanna be called Jack, but I think I like they/them pronouns better than he/him.” He’s staring into Cas’s eyes, one, two, three seconds before he looks away, to the ground. Like he’s afraid. Like he’s ashamed.
“Oh, Jack,” Cas murmurs. He walks over and gives them a big hug, warm and proud and grateful. Jack melts into it, lets themselves be held. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.” He pauses, and a thought makes his heart sink. Has Jack been sitting on this for awhile? Have they had to keep this secret, all alone? “How long have you known?”
“Not long. I just figured it out today.” Relief floods Cas’s body. It made him feel sick, that split second where he considered that Jack might’ve been struggling with this all by themselves. “I mean, I think I’ve always felt not totally like a boy. I just didn’t know how to say it until I met Taylor.”
“Well, I’m happy for you, and I’m grateful you let me know. From now on I’ll use the right pronouns, okay?”
Jack smiles, and it’s one of the best things Cas has ever seen. “Thanks, Dad. And thanks for being accepting. I mean, I wasn’t really worried about how you’d react. I know you love me no matter what, but still…” Jack shrugs. “It’s scary, even though I know you’ll always support me.” They sigh and run a hand through their hair. “I am kinda worried about Dean, though.”
read the whole thing on ao3 !
mutuals/taglist under the cut :D (lmk if u want to be removed or added!)
Sleep is a shadowy, lavender-gold web, perspiring with streaks of sunlight. This Sleep keeps Dean Winchester floating in dreams among blankets and escaped socks. The steady breath - in and out - with the crisp, sparkling morning, is in tandem with his lungs because it comes from the same brain … the head of the man who - as the clock struck midnight - turned 43. And this Sleep is a recently reacquainted friend, because of the years they were shoved down, suffocated, and missed with such brokenness. Any other day, this Sleep, with its colorful, misty pictures and phantom touches would be the main story, but what's more important today -
Thud-thud-thud and scrambling from the stairs bring Dean into liminal space. Closed eyes in a warm nest and the tang of dreams that have been clipped by an anxious hand. Coffee and various breakfast smells hang tantalizingly in the air. He inhales the scents and hears the bedroom door creak open. Then more shuffling, but quietly, like someone with very small slippered feet is trying to sneak up on him. Dean smiles in his mind’s eye but keeps his face soft in faux sleep.
This isn't the first time Jack has played this game.
Dean doesn't jump. He breathes, light and fanned, like how his nerves feel, stretched to the periphery of his body after so many hours of rest.
Jack bumps the bedframe. They drum their fingers, barely there, on Dean's shoulder. The warm air from their mouth in the seconds before they speak makes his ear itch ever so slightly.
"Happy birthday, Dean-o." Jack whispers. Dean doesn’t move, but his smile breaks onto his face.
Jack pulls back, tilts their head in curiosity, and then cranes over the other side of Dean’s blanket-mountain body to study his face.
“Hey,” says Jack. “Don’t you know I can see you smiling?”
Dean cracks an eye in a clear invitation, and Jack pounces.
---
Though it was truly painful to extricate himself from the oven that was his bed, on the morning of his lover’s birthday, Castiel absolutely could not sleep the sum of consecutive hours that Dean could. He left little kisses all over the birthday boy’s face until he huffed in his sleep and rolled over. Castiel grabbed a henley from Dean’s drawer and pulled on his slippers before heading down the stairs to get started on the breakfast extravaganza he had been planning now for weeks. Birthdays in the Winchester house had been officially all-out bashes since… you know. And it’s a blessing really, because it makes Cas feel good to give, especially on Dean’s birthday. The whole family goes all in, each birthday that passes is a celebration of life continuing.
After filling the kettle, he gently knocks on Jack’s door.
“Are you up, bee?”
Jack is sitting on his bed and pulling a wooly orange sock over his foot. He scratches his head before replying. “I guess so. Can I go jump on Dean yet?”
Cas holds their eye contact and says, “Tell him happy birthday first, ok?” and winks before Jack hops up.
Back in the kitchen, Cas chops strawberries and mango and avocado and pretends not to hear Jack lumbering up the stairs. He sets the pancakes (and waffles. And french toast. And bacon. And bowls of fruits) on the table and hears Jack’s playful yelp echo down the stairs, followed by their and Dean’s laughter. The kettle whistles and he laughs quietly to himself, turning off the burner.
---
“Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!” Jack squeals between bouts of breathless laughter and weak attempts at tickling Dean back.
Dean chuckles, delightfully out of breath as well from the physical exertion of circling and lunging and tackling Jack into the blankets to tickle their neck and armpits and the soles of their feet.
“Oh why thank you, Jack, but why are you laughing? Is my birthday funny to you? Was there laughing powder in your toothpaste again ?”
“YOU’RE TICKLING MEEEE!” howls Jack, before bursting out laughing again when Dean gets his wiggly fingers right in Jack’s neck again. They kick their feet out, landing a blow to Dean’s ribs. He falls sideways in defeat, and Jack is on him in an instant.
“I said, Happy Birthday !”
Dean huffs, “Alright, alright.” and grunts when Jack gingerly cracks their foreheads together so they can look at Dean like a bug.
“You got me, man.” He chuckles, feeling the rising energy of whatever move Jack is planning next. “Happy Birthday to me.”
Jack delivers the final blow: with the quickness of nimble hands, they expertly jams their fingers into Dean’s ribs, just below the armpits.
---
Cas is pressing the coffee when Dean's loud belly laugh, punctuated by wheezes, echoes down the stairs. He shakes his head and without missing a beat, pours two cups for him and Dean. When he looks up, Jack is halfway to the kitchen, face pinked from laughter. Dean trails shortly behind, scrubbing the night sand from his eyes.
Cas cleans off his hands on a towel and leans back against the counter. Jack slips over to the table, but Dean stops at the stove and snakes his arms around Cas's waist.
"Good wake-up call?" Cas rumbles into Dean's hair.
Jack plops down at the table, still grinning. He’s nearly obscured by the leaning stacks of breakfast fare littered with little candles. Dean watches them ease a pancake onto their plate.
Dean smirks against Cas's neck. "The best," he says.
He breathes into the space between them. Inhales until his chest expands, his shirt rides up and he feels the cool kitchen air on his belly hair. Cas splays his fingers over Dean's sleep pants and the soft skin that swells above it. Square fingers to frame the webbing of light stretch marks and soft tan skin.
When he exhales, Cas whispers into his ear, not unlike Jack did.
"Happy Birthday, Dean." Cas presses a kiss to Dean's temple. "I love you." And then, turning Dean's chin with a single finger, kisses him tenderly on the lips.
This kiss is the first of many presents given to Dean that day.
"Jack, would you light the candles?"
The singing is, of course, the highlight of breakfast, and a video recording is sent directly to two different group chats via Cas. Then the table is cleared. Jack announces it is time for the special gifts to be brought out and presented to Dean.
Jack pushes back from the table. "I'm getting my gift for Dean."
Dean raises his eyebrows, but Cas just nods in affirmation.
"Good idea, it's almost time to get the house ready for the party. I'll get mine too."
Before he leaves down the hall, he pulls Dean in for another hug and says, "Wouldn't be surprised if we don't get much alone time today."
Dean hums in agreement. "Thanks for breakfast, sweetheart."
"It's my pleasure," Cas says, and then they're kissing. Kissing for too long, apparently. Jack whines at Cas to hurry up so they can do their presents before the guests arrive.
Dean returns to sitting at the table. Which honestly isn't a problem. He leans back in the chair and listens to how it creaks beneath his weight. The sun falls on his face and arms and across the table. He closes his eyes. The wide slats of his back fall crooked against the rungs of the chair back. He tips his chin up and rests a hand on his very full belly to measure how much more love is inside of him now. Comfortable. God, he looks so much like Bobby. Or Cesar, maybe. Someone rounded with good food, with a forgiving place to rest their feet and years of free will ahead of them. His other hand lightly grips the table’s edge. The sun tickles him there too, mingling with the breaths he wills to reach each fingertip, as if to hold his hand. To hold his hand with a very quiet, affirming look, that says you made it, Dean.
Moments stretch on where he can hear Jack and Cas speaking in hushed voices down the hall. All he has to do is soak up these minutes, and the sun through the windowpane.
And that’s what he does for the entire day. It’s not as arduous an ordeal as it might have once been. To be loved on, all day, by his family and loud, rowdy hunters is not for the faint of heart. That night they kick everyone out by 8 pm. The dishes are washed and the furniture pushed back into their relatively correct places, with all their cushions intact. The fridge is worse for wear and the beer is decimated, but Jack is put to bed and the monitor is just white noise. And, to his delight, Dean has many new and thoughtful gifts.
Sitting in bed next to Cas, he recalls the day in brief detail inside his journal.
1/24/22
Shit to do later/tomorrow
will get to cleaning the mudroom tomorrow. Sam’s boots brought in a football field’s worth of mud I swear
Reschedule chiropractor
Write thank you cards to everyone - don’t forget Garth’s new address
Tell Cas I love him <3 (that’s every day anyway)
Long fuckin day. Happy Birthday to me. Woohoo!
I don't think Jack is ever gonna get sick of that tickle game. I hope not.
Cas, that angel, made BACON, pancakes, waffles, and french toast for breakfast! He gave me this special love coin? with a chain to wear it with. I love it… I love anything Cas gives me. Have to do some more research on it later though. Jack decorated a box for my tapes. It's not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but the frog stickers make the spotty paint job it better. Pretty good for a 5-year-old I think. He’s damn proud of it too. It will look good in Baby’s back seat, right next to Jack’s car seat.
Claire thought it would be funny to get me a pipe that’s shaped like a penis. So. Guess I’m getting stoned out of a penis pipe for the foreseeable future. Jesus.
I didn’t want to admit to this. But Jody got me more than just the new hot water bottle (which is gonna feel fucking awesome on my back btw). A few beers in, she signaled me over to the bathroom and pulled out seasons 1-4 of Charmed on dvd… “It’s not on netlfix anymore, Dean. I know you like this shit. Text me when you’re watching it, will ya?”….. I will be binge-watching this ASAP.
Sam and Eileen chipped in on this horse riding lesson package for me? I think I might be too old to try, but Cas said he’s seen older farts than me ride a horse. Ok, he’s telling me say in here that he did NOT call me an “old fart”. Anyway. Maybe if I can get him or Jody to come with me I wouldn’t look like a complete knucklehead. Wouldn’t that be so cool? I could pull the hat off the wall and actually wear it out of the house. What a world.
I’ve never seen Jack eat so much cake… probably should have been more on top of that. Cas said he’d be fine though. Trace angel grace will pick up the excess sugar-induced insanity? Crossing my fingers.
I promised myself I wouldn’t think about this too much today. But I miss mom. I miss Bobby and Rufus. Ellen and Jo and Ash and Charlie and Kevin. The house was full tonight but there were still holes.
At least I don’t have to miss Cas. He’s right next to me. He’s doing the centering breathing thing and waiting for me to be done writing so we can… y’know ;)
My humble contribution to the birthday and anniversary celebration of the lovely Bex Jasmine, @angelscas. 2.9k of Destiel, Midam and others. I hope you're having an amazing day and that my silly little fic can bring you some additional joy!
Prompts: Fluff // Angel!Cas // Spring // Easter
~~~
Spring was in full bloom when Easter rolled around. Dean and Castiel's garden was practically overflowing with bluebells, and even some mallows were already unfolding their blossoms. It was a beautiful sight, and filled Castiel with both pride and hope. Pride, because he had invested a lot of time in the garden, using (mostly) human means. And hope, because this was the first spring in what he planned to be many in their new house.
The fixer-upper was still not quite done. If they'd concentrated more on the house and less on the garden, maybe it would be a different story, but Castiel had wanted to make sure that everything was ready for summer. Daydreams of sitting outside, lounging on their deck chairs or by the nearby lake, had spurred him on. Just sitting around the garden table with their family, surrounded by flowers and protected from the worst of the sun's glare by their apple tree as well as the shade sail they'd recently installed...
Finally, that dream would come true today. So it didn't matter if not all rooms were fully furnished yet, or if the floor in the attic still needed repairing. What mattered was that everyone was coming over to celebrate Easter – in some cases for the first time.
Dean apparently couldn't remember ever celebrating it, though Mary insisted that they had, at some point. So Dean must have been too young to remember. Of course, this meant that Sam had never celebrated it with his family either, except maybe with Jess. And by extension, neither Jack nor Castiel had ever experienced Easter. Angels didn't celebrate holidays, not even Christian ones.
Except nowadays, they did.
“Gabriel,” Castiel said on a sigh as he walked into his living room. “What are you doing?”
“Decorating!” Gabriel was invited for Easter, not so much as part of Castiel's family, but as part of Sam's. While the constellation of Sam, Eileen, Gabriel and Rowena as a quad (or, as Dean liked to call it, a fouple) was still new and somewhat bewildering, Castiel didn't question it. If everyone involved was happy, he had no qualms with whatever form their relationship took.
However, there were some pressing questions. “But why are you putting eggs everywhere?”
Gabriel finally turned around to him. “Because that's what Easter is all about. Eggs, bunnies, chocolate.” He snapped his fingers and a chocolate egg appeared in his hand that he immediately popped into his mouth.
“But-” Castiel didn't think that was what Easter was really about, but something else took his attention. “Wait, is that-”
“The nativity scene, yeah.” Gabriel chewed his egg thoughtfully, then swallowed as he motioned to the curious display he had set up. Baby Jesus was an egg, and the animals in the barn were chickens – or where those the three kings? There were two bunnies that seemed to be Mary and Joseph... “Adam said the whole cross thing would be more traditional, but I dunno. A guy bleeding out doesn't seem very festive to me. Besides, Jack wouldn't want to see their bestie like that, right?”
Though still uncertain if this was sensible decoration, Castiel nodded. In their brief time as God, Jack had befriended Jesus, as well as some other historically important figures. With Jesus specifically, they had talked about many things, like fathers, God and, surprisingly, capitalism.
“Are Sam and Eileen also here already?” Castiel changed the topic. Gabriel had a tendency to just pop in without announcing himself, which meant that he was sometimes just there when Castiel or Dean walked into a room. By now, Castiel was beginning to understand what Sam and Dean must have felt like back in the days before the (first) botched apocalypse, when Castiel himself had done much the same on a regular basis.
“They're coming by car,” Gabriel said, and added a few more chickens to his display. “Sammy didn't wanna be zapped, and Eileen is keeping him company during the ride. They'll probably be here within an hour.”
“Alright.” They already knew that Rowena wasn't coming. While she had been invited, she apparently had too much to do. Castiel half suspected that she just didn't want to celebrate Christian holidays, though maybe he was doing her wrong. She had been there on Christmas, after all.
The doorbell rang, and Castiel turned around towards the hall, only to see that Gabriel had already flown to the front door and opened it. Outside were Jody and the girls.
“Hey dickhead,” Claire said to Gabriel, who raised an eyebrow at her.
“Hey Elsa,” he teased back, and Claire gasped and shoved him.
“Ugh. How do you even know who that is?” she questioned as she stomped into the house, closely followed by Kaia, Patience and Jody.
“Well you know, I have this brother who found a human kind enough to take him in-” Gabriel started, then saw Castiel frown. “Oh, not you. The other brother making googly eyes at his human all the time.”
“Ah.” That, too, was still novel and a bit weird: Michael and Adam. Though there had been signs for it beforehand, it wasn't until the Christmas party when it had hit everyone just how... close the two were.
The way they'd made out under the Christmas tree hadn't really left much room for speculation.
Jody was the first one to pull Castiel into a hug, and soon everyone took their turn. Out of the corner of his eyes, Castiel even saw Claire and Gabriel hug – both a little awkward and rolling their eyes the whole time, while Jody smiled widely.
Then the sound of another car garnered their attention, and soon Donna and Alex were walking down the gravel path of the drive way.
“Watcha all standing in the hall for?” Donna asked cheerfully when they got to the door.
“Waiting for you,” Jody said, smiling, and only sounding a little bit teasing.
“You mean waiting for the beer, right?” Alex asked, holding up a cooler.
Castiel eyed it in surprise. “We have beer,” he offered. The whole fridge in the basement was stocked with it. And whatever parts of their fridge in the kitchen that wasn't full of food also held beer.
“Yeah, but Dean's taste is shit. No offence.”
“Full offence, actually,” Claire said. “Where is Dean, anyway?”
Castiel led them through the living room and to the garden. Even though most of them had been here before, it had been a while, and they looked around curiously. Jody seemed especially impressed at the veranda.
“Wow. When I was last here, all this was just a bunch of weeds and rusting junk. You really did something with the place.”
“Yeah, they suburban-ized it.” Claire rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her lips.
“Well would you look at that,” Dean said, coming out of the shed with a bunch of coal for the barbecue. “You made it.”
“He even looks suburban,” Patience whispered to Claire, and giggled when she pretended to gag.
Dean wasn't looking that different from usual, though. Jeans, a t-shirt, and flannel – his usual get-up. Where he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, though, you could see a bracelet that Castiel hadn't known he owned until a few months ago. Apparently he had worn it often in his early twenties, but had stopped some time before his first death. And he was wearing the amulet Sam had once gifted him.
There was also a ring on his finger. Not a wedding ring, not even so much an engagement ring. But he wore it on his ring finger, to make sure that others knew he was taken. Castiel always beamed with pride and love when he saw it.
One day, it would be replaced with another ring. Castiel was sure of it. He'd just not figured out the best way to propose yet.
There were more hugs. Claire once again pretended not to want one, but moulded herself into Dean's arms when he pulled her in. Meanwhile, Gabriel stood on the lawn, making more eggs appear. When Kaia carefully approached him, he pulled a rabbit out of a hat that hadn't been there a moment ago.
Kaia laughed and petted the rabbit before Gabriel set it down. Confused, it hopped back and forth, then vanished behind some flowers.
Castiel hoped it wouldn't find the carrots he had sowed.
When the doorbell rang again, Castiel went to get it.
“Hello!” Jack was there, one hand raised in their standard greeting.
“Jack!” Castiel pulled them into a tight hug. He'd seen them just a few hours ago, of course, but he would also never not hug his child.
Behind Jack stood Adam, using his own body, and Michael, in the form of the projection he'd already used around Christmas.
Archangels, as some of the most powerful beings in the universe, were capable of producing powerful illusions, including ones that were solid to touch. It took a lot of energy and concentration to twist and shape grace in the right form – and all of it just so Michael and Adam could hold hands.
Among other things.
“Hey. Are we late?” Adam asked cheerfully.
“Not at all. Come in.” As they herded into the hallway, Castiel noticed a potted plant in Adam's hand (the one that wasn't currently intertwined with Michael's). “What's that?”
“A gift.” Adam shrugged and held out the pot. The flowers blooming inside it were pink, and exuded a slight touch of grace, as if it was braided into its life force. “We heard the house is almost done and Jack told us about your garden. We figured you might want some plants inside this place, too.”
“Oh. Thank you.” A little stunned, Castiel took the potted plant.
“Paeonia,” Michael said simply.
Adam cracked a smile. “Peonies. We magicked them so they wouldn't wilt for a while.”
Michael huffed and rolled his eyes, probably at the incorrect reference to magic. Whatever they had done, it hadn't been a spell, but probably another archangel ability. Michael didn't argue though, and Adam just seemed endlessly amused.
Peonies, Castiel knew from many hours of research into the nutritional, aesthetic, as well as cultural significance of different flowers, could stand for peace, stability, and a prosperous domestic life. Surely, it was a coincidence that Michael and Adam had chosen this flower. They couldn't possibly have put that much thought into it.
Right?
Still a little dazed, Castiel brought the flowers to the kitchen, and placed them on the windowsill. They looked lovely there.
When he rejoined the others, everyone was already gathered in the garden. Michael and Adam were talking to Jody while Jack was huddled with Claire and Alex, watching something on Claire's phone and looking impressed. “Wait, that's all chocolate?” Castiel heard Jack say, their eyes wide and mouth a surprised 'o'.
It wasn't much later that Garth and his family arrived. Him and Bess carried one of the twins each, while Gertie was hanging off of Benny's leg. A few minutes afterwards, Sam and Eileen joined them.
Now they were complete. Dean had already started the grill and handed out beers, helped by Benny and a very eager Gertie (though they didn't let her carry the bottles). Castiel was still standing a little to the side, just marvelling at the amount of people they got to call their family and friends, when Gabriel pulled him into a discussion between Michael and him: How much pudding could an angel eat while using a vessel before their ability to deal with the food was exhausted and the vessel's metabolism kicked in? After all, they had heard that enough alcohol could make an angel drunk (Castiel winced, but smiled and didn't comment), so it stood to reason that there was an upper limit for any substance before the vessel was affected.
Michael argued that it must be tons, at least, glancing at Adam in a significant manner. Meanwhile, Adam seemed to at least be somewhat aware of their conversation, even though he was busy talking to Donna several yards away. He grinned and winked at Michael.
Michael sighed. “Adam is willing to try, bu-”
Gabriel didn't let him finish. “Pudding eating contest!!” he yelled, and summoned a long table on the lawn, filled to the brim with large bowls of pudding.
Immediately, the others huddled around, with the exception of Dean and Jody, who just shook their heads and stayed at the grill. Eileen appointed herself as judge and was seconded by both Gabriel and Adam, while Michael tried for a while to talk them out of the contest. Without success, of course. In the end, he stood to the side (mostly metaphorically – the largest part of his grace was still within Adam, and thereby right in the middle of these happenings) and instead tried to enter the betting pool Claire had apparently opened. (Claire didn't let him bet on himself, though.)
Eventually, Benny whistled to signify the start of the contest, and Gabriel and Adam both started digging in.
Though Castiel was without a doubt still and foremost an angel, at this point he knew a thing or two about food, and tasting it. Even now, he could taste the beer on his tongue, and while he could also differentiate the different molecules in it if he wanted to, he usually concentrated on the human way of tasting (which he had to thank Jack and their brief stint as God for). So Castiel had much more experience with eating and drinking nowadays, with enjoying the flavours and textures that he liked and finding out what he didn't like. And sure, he had seen the opposite – devouring food instead of savouring every bite – many times before, not just with Dean but also other people. But still, what Gabriel and Adam were doing didn't feel right. It was a mere destruction of the pudding, hardly something you could call 'eating' anymore.
They seemed to have fun, though, and their audience even more so. Alex had even started filming the whole thing.
“Hey, handsome.” Dean suddenly bumped his shoulder against Castiel's, smiling. Apparently, Jody had taken over the grill for him, so he had wandered over. “You come here often?”
Castiel weighed his head. “To a pudding eating contest? Can't say that I do.”
Snorting, Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's lower back, his hand settling on his hip. After a few seconds of silence, and with his eyes on Gabriel and Adam, he said: “Not quite as exciting as the apocalypse.” He took a sip of his beer.
“But far more enjoyable,” Castiel said, leaning against him. “Not that the company for all those world ending crises wasn't good, but there are nicer things to do than fight monsters and angels and God.”
Dean smiled, his hand squeezing Castiel's side. “I dunno, Cas, Adam's still fighting an archangel.”
“Technically, it's Michael fighting Gabriel. But I suppose it's still a familiar sight to see a Winchester stand up to an archangel.”
“Adam isn't a Winchester.” Michael had walked up to them, crossing the arms of his visage. It was only now that Castiel noticed his fingernails were black, as if he had painted them. Matching his hair colour and standing out nicely against his brown skin, it looked very good.
Maybe he'd picked up the habit of painting his nails from Jack (who, in turn, had learned how to do it from Claire). They had spent some time with their uncles lately.
“He's an honorary Winchester,” Dean argued.
“No,” Michael said simply. “You may mean it as a compliment, but don't let him hear it if you value your life. You could make Gabriel a Winchester though. Then again, I suppose he may officially become one soon. Well, semi-officially. Since Sam is legally dead and Gabriel doesn't legally exist, nothing would be exactly official.”
Dean blinked at him. “You, uh. Know something we don't?”
One corner of Michael's mouth twitched upwards even as he shrugged. “I know it may sound weird to say this about the angel who left Heaven behind, but Gabriel has always been extremely committed to the people he cares about.”
Dean and Castiel exchanged a look.
“Well,” Dean said. “I guess I need to get a move on if I want to be the first Winchester to marry an angel.” He drank more of his beer, avoiding Castiel's eyes.
Castiel squeezed his arm and leaned in so only Dean would hear him. “I'd marry you tomorrow. Or tonight, even.”
Dean's eyes snapped back to him and after a moment of stunned staring, the most breathtaking smile spread on his face. “Let's maybe give it some time to plan the wedding – and to get rings,” he whispered back.
“Deal.” Castiel leaned in the rest of the way to kiss Dean's cheek. It seemed like he had found a good way to propose, after all.
Though he still planned to get down on one knee and do this properly once he'd had time to get the ring out of its hiding place. Maybe after everyone had left, since Dean didn't do well with emotional moments in front of other people. Yes, it would be just the two of them. Maybe Jack, if they wanted to help.
