This was inspired by Annie D’s amazing fic Not Part of the Plan on Ao3. It’s a WIP, currently posting in its last part. There was a moment several chapters ago when, in the midst of political intrigue, gathering conflict and running for their lives, Dean and Cas have a picnic lunch and talk about what they hope for when the crisis is over. I couldn’t get this picture out of my mind.
There is a moment in early spring when the shift between seasons can be felt. Daylight has been increasing incrementally since Yule; nights and early mornings are still cold, but frost and snow have gone for the most part. Early bulbs pushed their heads through the cold earth weeks ago; for some the blooming time is already over. The whole world seems to be holding its breath, all the tiny changes paused to listen. And then one morning the air feels different: softer, fragrant with a rich, verdant taste. The light is different - clearer, brighter, full of promise. Yesterday there were no bird voices, but today one, then another, then more and more join the chorus. A rooster crows with more vigor and impatience. When the breeze moves through the orchard, leaves rustle for the first time. Stirring and shuffling sounds drift out of the barn, followed by the low voice of a cow; another moos in answer. The rooster crows again, and the hens, still inside the coop, come awake, getting louder as the light rises through the trees.
Castiel comes out the back door, blinking in the sunlight and letting the screen slam behind him. A couple of the hens pecking their way around the yard startle and screech at the sound. Castiel murmurs reassuringly, dropping a handful of cracked corn in their path, and they settle again. He smiles down at them, shaking his head. The cool morning breeze smells of the barn, fresh earth and a tentative new green as it slips past his face.
Castiel turns to look back at the house. After all these months, he still hasn’t gotten used to seeing it, cannot look at this lovely little place and take it for granted. His early experience hasn’t let him become complacent about the reality of his life: he lives in this neat, clean little haven, the land around it turning to his hand and growing vegetables and flowers in equal measure, sharing itself with an unexpected generosity that still takes his breath away. This is his home, his and Dean’s.
The man himself announces his presence with the metallic clank of milk pails - Castiel turns again to seen Dean coming out of the barn with a gleaming aluminum bucket dangling from each hand. Ziggy, their speckled blue cow dog, trots along at his heels. Dean’s smile lights his face at the sight of Castiel.
“Hey sleepy head. About time you stirred your stumps.” Dean keeps coming toward Castiel, grinning and raising an eyebrow. Really, no one should look that lively at this early hour. It’s impossible not to respond; Castiel smiles back as Dean comes right into his space for a kiss. It’s a careful, gentle one due to the full pails of milk, but it’s warm and full of promise. Castiel returns it firmly.
They break apart, but just a little; for a few minutes they stand there with their faces leaned together, just breathing. Finally Castiel pulls away a little and looks into Dean’s eyes.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I knocked out pretty good, like always. You?”
“Yes, very well. I vaguely remember you getting up but I must have dozed off again. I apologize.”
Dean kisses his cheek. “No need, don’t worry about it. You had a long drive yesterday, you needed your sleep. Gave me a chance to chat with the cows.” He grins at Cas’ chuckle.
“Should I be jealous?”
“Nah. Well, I dunno, Mabel’s pining a little, I think. Gracie’s cool, though. She knows you’re the only one for me.”
Castiel laughs out loud, and reaches down to take one of the buckets. “Maybe I can take Mabel something special later, so she’ll forgive me for stealing your heart.”
Dean shrugs. “Suit yourself. She should have known better.” He winks at Castiel, and it’s all Castiel can do not to grab him into a considerably more passionate kiss, milk be damned. He sighs as Dean pushes the back door open, and follows him inside, Ziggy close behind. Dean steps into the milkroom to deal with the content of the pails, and Cas goes into the kitchen to cook breakfast. He’s started a rack of bacon and is cracking eggs into a bowl when Dean comes in.
“Mmmmm.” Deans sniffs in a deep breath and smiles. “Smells good in here.” He slips his hands under Castiel’s shirt and around his waist, hooking his chin over Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m hungry.”
“For what?” Castiel leans his head against Dean’s and tries to keep the smirk off his face. He fails utterly when Dean laughs out loud and plants a noisy kiss on Castiel’s cheek.
“I love flirty you.” Dean hugs Castiel and leans around to kiss him on the mouth.
“I love you too, even when you stumble home smelling like Mabel.” Castiel returns the kiss enthusiastically. Dean gives him one last squeeze and moves away toward the dish cupboard. Castiel watches him for a moment, pulling plates and mugs out and setting the table, and then turns back to the eggs, a small private smile on his face.
He remembers what seems like a lifetime ago, sitting on the hood of the Impala in a quiet field near Rexburg and daydreaming together about what their lives would look like after the conflict was over. They had imagined a quiet life in this kind of place, room for both of them to pursue their work but still build a foundation together on their own terms. Now here they are, going about their chores, bringing in the milk and eggs and teasing each other over breakfast. With the ease of long habit, they manage not to get in each other’s way, weaving through each other’s space in a complex dance that brings steaming platters of food and mugs of coffee to the table at the same time.
For several minutes the only sounds are the clink of forks on ceramic plates, coffee being slurped and bacon crunching. Finally, Dean leans back in his chair a little, mug in hand. He snags one more piece of bacon off the platter, and looks over at Castiel.
“So, how’d it go? Did you manage to get everybody together?”
Castiel finishes chewing and lets out a long breath. “Mostly. Ellen wasn’t able to make it to the reconciliation meetings. Jo came in her place, and I was pleasantly surprised. She’s a fine mediator, very calm and even-handed. She made some excellent suggestions when there was a bit of an impasse. Because of her ideas, we made a great deal of progress toward some real solutions to the remaining points of disagreement. I’m very optimistic.”
Dean breaks the piece of bacon in half, and slips one chunk to the dog, waiting patiently beside his chair. He looks up, and starts a little when he sees Castiel watching him, one eyebrow raised. They grin at each other, and Dean clears his throat.
“So when are you meeting again?”
“Not until next month.” Castiel sets his fork across his empty plate, and swallows the last mouthful of his coffee. “Everyone agreed that we’ve covered so many of the items on our long-term agenda, we can shift to monthly meetings for the foreseeable future.”
“I knew you’d kick it in the ass.” Dean’s looking at Castiel approvingly, and Castiel feels a warm glow fill his chest. His face feels warm too, and he blinks when Dean speaks again. “Ellen said something the last time I talked to her, about Jo getting more involved. She’s been doing mediation stuff for some of the smaller towns in the north, so I guess Ellen thinks Jo’s ready to move up to the big leagues. Glad to hear it’s working.” Dean wipes his hands on his napkin.
Castiel nods and looks over at Dean speculatively. “That almost sounds like Ellen is stepping back. Do you think she’s preparing to hand things over to someone else?”
“Hmmm.” Dean frowns at his plate. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. She’s still on the Council and has some projects going there, but maybe she’s getting tired of it, now that the crisis is pretty much over.” He looks at Cas wonderingly. “Wow. That would be strange without her there, wouldn’t it?“
Castiel frowns, thinking. “I’m sure she won’t just leave abruptly. She’s very responsible, and still very involved. If there is a change coming there’ll be a long, smooth transition, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess I’m still sort of getting used to how much things have changed. It’s not a bad thing, just… You know.” He gives Castiel a lopsided smile.
“I know, it’s strange for me too. Giving up the habits of a lifetime is a bit difficult, but very welcome. I think I like not having to look over my shoulder all the time.” Castiel’s smile fades and he drops his eyes to his plate, frowning as he picking up the last few crumbs with his fingertip.
He looks up to find Dean regarding him thoughtfully, chin in hand. Castiel flushes, caught.
“What’s up, Cas? Did something happen while you were there?”
Castiel sighs. “Yes. Well, to be accurate, something didn’t happen.”
Dean frowns in puzzlement, and then his face shifts to disappointment. “Oh no, the university thing, the teaching post. They didn’t give it to you?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Actually, they didn’t give it to anybody. They scheduled a few workshops, which means that student assistants can conduct them, they don’t have to assign a teacher. I think they were trying to be…” He hesitates. “Noncommittal.” Castiel sighs again, not meeting Dean’s gaze. He had told himself there wasn’t much chance, he should just make his interest known and occupy himself with the many other tasks awaiting his attention. But those were intellectual choices; his heart was another matter, and he’s a little suprised at the depth of his disappointment. His eyes sting, and he turns his head to look out the window.
He looks back when he feels Dean’s hand slide gently over his where it rests on the table. “I’m sorry, Cas. I know you’re ready to jump back in again, you really wanted this.” He squeezes Castiel’s hand, then straightens in his chair. “Hey, wait a minute. What do you mean, noncommittal?” Dean frowns when Castiel remains silent. “Cas, what reason did they give for not taking you and setting up workshops instead?” He gives Castiel’s hand a shake.
Castiel looks into Dean’s eyes and speaks pointedly. “I think they didn’t want me there and just didn’t have the moral fortitude to say so. I did speak to my former assistant, who’s been given an associate position at the university. She confided her impression that someone higher up in the administration had some concerns about me.”
Dean’s scowling before Castiel is finished speaking. “What the hell, Cas?? Concerns? You’re smarter than anybody else there, I can see how that would be a concern. But not hiring you? C’mon.”
Castiel smiles at Dean’s indignation. “It’s all right, mostly. I’m disappointed, but I am not truly surprised. It hasn’t been very long, and the more - traditional thinkers are the ones who have the most difficulty adjusting to change. There are many people who are still frightened by the mere suggestion of royalty, and I am still a most public face of that royalty.”
Dean sits stewing, shifting restlessly as though he is wishing for someone’s face to punch. Finally he sighs and leans back in his chair.
“Screw ‘em. They’ll come around eventually, and in the meantime you got better things to do. Right?”
Castiel smiles gratefully. “As a matter of fact, I do. I received a message from Nora - oh, that reminds me, I’d like to make a call to her later and follow up on her note to me, don’t let me forget.” Dean nods, and Castiel continues. “Her message had to do with my providing magical instruction for communities around the Republic. You remember that day in the Gas-n-Sip, after Meg attacked? Well, there’s been quite a bit of interest since then, apparently. Not in a weaponized sense, just that people want more knowledge and experience. I’ve been thinking about how to approach that. It might involve more travel, but it would be a very useful service, I think.”
Dean squeezes his hand again. “Sounds like it would suit you, then. Maybe we can combine our trips? It’d be fun to go out on the road with you.” He smiles delightfully, Dean at his most charming, proposing a shared adventure. Castiel chuckles and shakes his head, completely disarmed, as always.
Dean gets to his feet, still smiling. He moves quickly to stack the used dishes and turns toward the sink with his load. He speaks back over his shoulder.
“So you had some long meetings. Did you get to do anything else?”
Castiel brings the empty mugs to the sink. “Oh yes, I ran into Charlie. She’s moved to the city and into some sort of coordinator position, working between the hunters’ group and the Council. She seems to be thriving.”
“Not surprised to hear that. She can sure keep a lot of plates in the air at one time. I’ll bet she’s got the Council hanging on her every word.” Dean chuckles, a little wistfully. “I miss her. I’m definitely going with you next time.”
“I would like that. Oh, and I visited Anna.” He smiles shyly when Dean bumps his shoulder.
“Hey, that’s great! How’s she doing? Is she adjusting to life in the big city?”
“Yes, Anna always did like a little faster pace. She moved to Rexburg because it was out of the way and safer for her, but she managed to stay involved in many more exciting things than her work at the studio. She was never happier than when she was falsifying travel papers and smuggling refugees.” Castiel smiles fondly, and Dean gives him a one-armed hug.
“Glad to hear it. I miss her too.”
“I do as well. I may have, ah…” Castiel trails off and looks away, his cheeks growing warm. He still stumbles over the basic intricacies of everyday life as a couple; he should have asked Dean before...
“What, Cas?” Dean’s watching him, a little frown between his eyes.
Castiel sighs and looks into Dean’s eyes. “I invited Anna to visit us for awhile over Midsummer’s Day. I’m sorry, Dean, I should have asked you first. She was telling me she’s planning to take a personal holiday for the first time ever, and she was so excited, and I just… I’m sorry.”
“Cas, c’mon, it’s okay.” Dean squeezes Castiel’s arm gently. “You know I don’t mind. You don’t have to ask to invite your sister here. She’s always welcome.” He smiles softly, and this is yet another moment when Castiel can hardly catch his breath for the emotions he feels. He’s never prepared for the way his heart fills in these moments - the casual openness, the intimacy and ease of living in Dean’s orbit. He slips his arms around Dean and just holds on, feeling the little huff of breath as Dean drops the dishcloth and wraps himself around Castiel.
It’s been over a year since that night in the bar, a year in which Castiel has gone from resignation at the inevitability of a politically-motivated marriage, to an arrangement resembling that outward structure but filled with something entirely different. These past months have challenged Castiel at every turn, pushing him to reconcile what his life has taught him about families and loyalty and his own worth, with the unexpected treasure of this life with Dean.
Castiel has spent many hours despairing of his ability to learn the skills necessary to build a strong relationship, to find his way when nothing in his pre-Dean life has given him any reason to trust - and especially, to let Dean inside the walls around his heart. He’s found himself angry many times - mostly at his family, his siblings (except Anna) for not being there for him; his cousins for having so little compunction at using him when it was advantageous and then casting him aside; even at his parents for dying and leaving him alone when he was much too young to protect himself. Castiel has spent so much of his life suppressing his emotions, hiding behind a mask of calm and detachment in order to stay alive and be safe. Learning to let those resentments and griefs out so he can get past them and move forward has been a singular challenge, and as with all new skills his initial attempts were awkward and unpleasant.
Through it all, Dean has been steady and patient, reassuring when Castiel despaired, calm when he raged, tender and comforting when he wept with grief. And somehow, as time went on and they each became more fluent in the language of each other, the storms passed and the landscape of their lives grew into this peaceful sanctuary. Somehow here they are, alive and thriving. Gratitude seems such a small word for what Castiel feels, but he gives it to Dean anyway.
~~~
“So, what’s your plan for the rest of the day?” The dishes are clean and returned to the cupboard, the breakfast leavings cleared away. Dean takes Castiel’s hand as they descend the porch steps outside.
“I was thinking of beginning work on the upper gardens. The weather’s going to stay fine for at least several more days and I’d like to get a start on it.”
Dean laughs at him. “Well, Mr. Green Thumb, I know it’s tempting but you can’t start planting yet.”
“I know that, the ground is still too cold.” Castiel elbows Dean and grins back. “I just want to prepare the soil. The people down the road gave me a truckload of mushroom compost to work into the beds, and it occurred to me that raised beds might be beneficial.”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. I’ve got some cinder blocks saved in the barn, from the old chicken coop foundation. Think those would work?”
Castiel smiles. “Yes, very well. Are there enough for a couple of beds?”
“Yeah, should be enough for two or three, you’ll have to have a look and tell me what you think. You want some help transporting them up there?”
Castiel looks speculatively at Dean and gives him a slow smile. “If you’ll promise to remove your shirt when you get warmed up.”
Dean gapes at him for a moment, and bursts out laughing. “Yep, flirty you, my favorite. Come on, you shameless hussy, let’s get the wheelbarrows.”
~~~
Early in the evening, after supper has been eaten and cleared away, they sit on the porch steps, watching Gracie and Mabel graze peacefully in the pasture beyond the barn. The dog sits between them, leaning against Dean’s leg as Castiel scratches behind her ears. The big trees along the lane are full of birds.
Dean leans back on his elbows and tips his head back, gazing up at the sky and the scattered clouds. After a moment Castiel reaches out and gently runs his fingers through the hair above Dean’s ear. It’s gotten long lately, and he rubs a strand between his fingers slowly. Dean leans into his hand, closing his eyes.
It’s quiet for a moment, and then Castiel speaks, his voice slow and soft. “Your next meeting with the hunters’ group is coming up soon, isn’t it?”
Dean sighs and nods, the movement ruffling his hair against Castiel’s fingers. “Yeah, next week. I’ll probably go down late on Sunday so we can get started first thing Monday. Maybe we’ll get ‘er done quicker.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Dean turns his head and looks up into Castiel’s face. “I’ll miss you too, babe. Do you think you could come with?”
Castiel smiles regretfully. “I’d like that, but I’m just back from my trip and things are picking up around here. Plus I want to get started on gathering information and materials for Nora, and Anna reminded me that the treatise I promised Hannah is overdue.”
Dean huffs. “Wow, aren’t you popular. Maybe I should be jealous.” He gives Castiel a half-smile. Castiel leans down and kisses Dean’s forehead.
“Silly man. You know you’re the only one for me.” Dean tips his face up a little more, grinning, and presses his lips against Castiel’s. Castiel hums softly and parts his lips; try as he might, he can’t keep from smiling as they move their mouths together, long and slow and warm. After a few minutes he grasps the front of Dean’s shirt and pulls carefully but firmly. He feels Dean’s grin against his face.
“Are you trying to tell me something, Cas? I’m not quite getting the message.” Dean’s voice is husky and warm, teasing. Castiel bumps their noses together gently. He tugs on Dean’s shirt again.
“Please don’t make me drag you upstairs. I’m quite tired and I might not have much energy left over once we get there.” Castiel manages to keep a straight face as Dean leans back to peer at him. A slow smile crosses Dean’s face as he pushes off the step and stands.
“Well, all righty then. Allow me.” Dean extends one hand down to Castiel, who takes it and pulls himself up. Instead of turning to climb the steps, Dean draws Castiel’s hand around behind Dean’s back, holding him close and looking into his face. His other hand comes up to rest gently on Castiel’s cheek.
“I love you, y’know.” His words sound light, but Dean’s eyes are wide and solemn, glistening just a little. Castiel smiles tenderly.
“I do know that. I love you too, Dean.” Castiel tips his head toward the house. “Come upstairs. Let me show you.”
Dean’s eyes light up, and Castiel falls in behind him up the steps, their hands still clasped. At the top of the steps he turns for a moment to look through the trees and the fields beyond, sloping gently away toward the river. The sky has gone a deep blue-black, and the first stars are gleaming against the darkness. Castiel watches them for a few minutes, until Dean tugs at his hand and pulls him inside. Ziggy doesn’t even wait for instructions; she peels off to her bed by the kitchen stove and watches as they climb the stairs, hand in hand.
