For @one-more-offbeat-anthem’s 1k follower celebration: stargazing
There’s something about eating at a diner late at night that Dean loves. Sitting outside in Sante Fe, the quiet of the stars twinkling in the dark sky as the occasional headlight lights up the night. It’s peaceful. No one’s out eating this late at night except truck drivers and the rare night-owl who are exploring the world with no particular pathway ahead of them.
It’s there that Dean meets him. There’s nothing special about him, and yet, when the man brings a bag of food out of the diner and sits on a table across from Dean, Dean can’t tear his eyes away. The man almost glows in the moonlight; tan trenchcoat highlighted to a silvery shade and blue tie making his eyes glimmer.
Dean just can’t stop staring, and the man quirks a smile at him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the man asks, and God, his voice is deep and coils around Dean’s lungs.
“Hmm? What?” Dean says, shaking his head slightly and darting his eyes down to the pile of fries on the table, still wrapped in a yellow wrapper.
“The stars. The night. It’s serene, don’t you think?” the man replies, tilting his head back to gaze up at the twinkling canvas above them.
It really is. It’s Dean’s favorite part about being on the road. These late night meals when he can just admire the galaxy spread out above him. So quiet it felt like the stars were dancing in the sky just for him to see.
“You do this often? Chat up strangers while stargazing and eating burgers?” Dean asks, his eyes trained on the miles of tanned skinned of the other man’s throat.
“Only if the strangers are as beautiful as the night sky,” the man teases, eyes lighting up as he picked up a fry and dipped it into a packet of ketchup.
Something was so entrancing about the man, and when their eyes met again across the long expanse of their individual tables, the man nodded his head towards the empty seat at his own table. “I’m Cas,” he said.
Dean smiled, picking up his food and moving towards Cas’ table. “Dean,” he said, offering Cas a warm smile as he sat down across from him.
They sat comfortably for a second before Dean nudged their feet together under the table. “I don’t see any trucks in the parking lot. So where are you going?”
Cas grinned, bumping their ankles together before reaching over and stealing one of Dean’s fries even though he had a pile of his own. “Wherever the stars take me.”
Dean’s heart thudded in his chest. Someone else just letting the road take them; just like Dean.
“What about you? Where are you heading?” Cas asked before offering Dean his milkshake.
“Right now? Heading to California to visit my brother and his wife. After that? Wherever the road guides me,” Dean says, taking a sip of the chocolate shake and rolling his shoulders; glancing up at a bright star right over their heads.
When Dean dropped his head down again, Cas was already looking at him. Their eyes locked and a wave of content washed over Dean. Reaching out, he dipped one of his own fries into Cas’ ketchup and nodded his head towards Cas’ tie. “Why the fancy getup?”
Taking a bite of his burger, Cas grinned and launched into a story about the job he walked away from. Dean offered a story about his business with Bobby fixing cars and how he just needed some time to hit the road and drive.
They talked until their food went cold. They bonded until the stars faded into the first morning light. Walking back to their cars, Cas nudged Dean with his shoulder. “You know... Dean. I know a good diner in Moab. I could show you, if you’d like?” Cas asked quietly as the early morning sunrise cast colorful gleams over his face.
Dean saw the offer for what it was. He could say no. He could politely decline and they’d go their separate ways. But Dean didn’t want that. They’d already exchanged phone numbers, but the thing was, Dean didn’t want Cas to drive the other way. Hours of talking and suddenly the thought of being on the road without Cas by his side felt strange and empty.
With a smile, Dean skimmed his fingers over Cas’ wrist. “Lead the way, Cas.”
Two weeks later, in a little dive in San Jose, Cas leaned over the table and kissed Dean for the very first time. It felt like coming home after months of driving the open roads searching for something he couldn’t describe.
Tag List Below- (tag list closed at this time! please let me know if you’d like to be added to the waitlist if a spot opens up!)
For @one-more-offbeat-anthem 's 1k follower celebration. The prompt was "sickfics" and I've never written a sickfic in my life so, naturally, I adapted a scene from one of my comfort movies (Fever Pitch, 2005). HUGE congrats on your milestone love!!!
read on ao3 or below (1.5k words)
Castiel should've known better than to listen to his brother regarding food. They have wildly different palates, and why he agreed to accompany Gabriel to lunch at some newly-opened new-age restaurant with barely any reviews, he'll never know. He wasn't thinking.
He could think even less that night, hunched over the toilet with food poisoning while his date knocked on his apartment door.
As soon as he could, Castiel scrambled to his feet and wobbled over to open it, his over-excitable golden retriever on his heels. Dean stood there in a nice leather jacket, all dapper and first-date-ready with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and it broke Castiel's heart to have to tell him:
"I'm sick."
He was sure it was evident in his eyes, death breath, hair sticking out in all directions from holding his head above the toilet, but he said it anyway.
"I'm really sick, I'm sorry. Come back tomorrow."
Castiel went to close the door, but Dean took a cautious step, bouquet forgotten at his side. "Sick how? You in pain? Do you need anything?"
"I just-" Castiel swallowed forcefully. "I ate at this new restaurant and-"
Just thinking about it made him run to the bathroom again, and he almost didn't make it on time. He barely registered Dean, still at the doorway, say something about Castiel (Cas, he called him) not needing to fake it if he didn't want to go out with him. A few seconds later, the door closed, and Castiel (still puking) thought that was that. He blew it with the handsome schoolteacher, all thanks to his brother's awful culinary taste.
His dog's wasn't so far behind. "Honey, please don't eat that," he reprimanded her, failing to shoo her out of the bathroom.
When he felt he was done, for the time being at least, he tried to stand. He was weak, and for a second he thought he might split his head open on the toilet seat, but then Dean was there, hands on his waist, helping him up. "I got you," said Dean, over and over again, and Castiel believed him.
Dean helped him to his bed where he tried to sit him down, but Castiel must've been weaker than he thought. He flopped backward, and then Dean cautiously lifted his head and placed a pillow underneath.
"Thank you."
"Got some more comfortable clothes? Something to sleep in?"
It's then Cas remembered he was already dressed for the date, slacks and a white button-up (probably grossly stained, he hated to think), and pointed Dean to a drawer.
A second later Dean was gently hoisting him back to his feet, strong hands at his sides, saying "Here, I'll help you change. Promise I won't look. Too much, I won't look too much."
And that actually made Castiel chuckle.
Dean unbuckled and took off his slacks first, replacing them with sweatpants. It was a slow, quiet process, and Dean only spoke up after he'd taken off Castiel's tie and shirt. "Alright, I gotta be honest, I'm looking. Sorry, Cas."
Cas couldn't help another chuckle. Dean was incredibly respectful through it all, careful not to touch any skin unless he had to, which was mostly to keep Cas from falling over. He slipped a t-shirt onto him and laid Cas back down on the bed, this time with his head where it was supposed to be. That's when things started to blur, when his head hit the pillow.
"I don't think there's anything left in there, but just in case..."
Cas, through hazy vision, noticed Dean putting his empty hamper next to the bed. He thanked him, repeatedly. Cas isn't sure how many times he said it, over and over again, thank you.
"Hey, no, you just get some rest," was the last thing Cas heard Dean say before he was out like a light.
Cas suspects he briefly regained consciousness three times during that night.
The first time, he's sure of. He felt a hand on his shoulder, slowly coaxing him awake. "Here," Dean said softly, placing a bottle of Gatorade with a straw in it on the nightstand. "Drink this if you can, alright? Get your strength back." Cas nodded and fell back asleep.
The second time was more questionable, and he only knows it was real because he saw the results of it in the morning. He slowly awoke on his own and saw Dean in his bathroom across from his bedroom door, wearing rubber gloves and scrubbing away at the toilet with a sponge. Cas tried to stop him, tell him no, please, you don't have to do that, really, but couldn't help sleep drag him back down before he could get the words out.
The third time is the most unbelievable. Borderline fantastical. If it was real, he might just have to marry this guy.
Cas thinks he saw Dean brushing Honey's teeth.
Out of everything that happened the night before, that is all he can think about as he steps out of the shower in the morning. He plans to call Dean, send a fruit basket to his school, invite him on the best date of his life to repay him for all he did, and ask him. It's going to sound ridiculous, did you brush my dog's teeth or did I hallucinate that, and Dean will probably turn down his invite. If not for the hell he went through that night, then for Cas being insane.
And then Cas finds Dean asleep on his couch, Honey snuggled into his side. And yeah, he's probably going to marry this guy. This schoolteacher who happened to pick him and his office as a field trip destination for his math kids. This adorable guy that came back later that same day, thanked him for getting through to the kids (which Cas didn't think he had, but he digresses), and then asked him out. This unbelievably sweet guy that Cas initially rejected, god knows why, but then called at his school and left a message for, Saturday at seven, here's my address, because he couldn't get him off his mind. This caring, thoughtful, heaven-sent guy who showed up with flowers, now in a vase on his dining table, found Cas with food poisoning and proceeded to take care of him, his dog, and his apartment the rest of the night.
Before Cas can think about marrying him again (which he was going to, the hopeless romantic), Honey startles and jumps off the couch, waking Dean. Cas doesn't move, just watches as Dean sits up, notices him, then sits up straighter.
"Hey! Hey, how you feeling?" Dean asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He put products in his hair for the date, Cas notices, because it's now stiffly and adorably messed up.
"Much better. I won't be entering any pie-eating contests any time soon, though."
"Too bad. That was my next date idea."
Cas smiles, the words next date making his heart flutter in his ribcage. His question pops back into his mind.
"Did you, um..." Don't ask about the dog, he'll think you're crazy. He decides to go with "Did you clean my bathroom last night?" even though he knows the answer.
"Me? No."
Well. Cas thought he knew the answer. Probably dreamed it too. But then who-
"The vomit elves came in," Dean continues. "Real cute. Little hats, miniature vomit bags, adorable. Efficient too."
Cas is stuck somewhere between smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and shaking his head while rolling his eyes. "Did the elves brush Honey's teeth too?"
"Oh no, that one was me."
And that has Cas laughing in earnest. At the sound of her name, Honey came bouncing back, settling next to Dean on the couch.
"Not letting the little bastards take credit for that one. This sweetheart loves me, and I earned that myself," Dean says, scratching Honey between her ears, enraptured.
"Dean, thank you." At that, Dean looks up. "Thank you. You could've just left, but you chose to stay. And you went above and beyond. Thank you."
Dean looks away and stands, trying to play it off with a wave of his hand. "Nah, it was nothing."
"It was everything," Cas says stepping forward, placing a beckoning hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean finally looks at him with a barely-there smile and a gaze that wants to escape, but he fights for it to stay on Castiel's face. Cas is glad he does, because he needs Dean to see, understand, how grateful he is.
"I uh... I got you these." Dean reaches for a paper bag on the coffee table, and that's when Cas takes his hand off his shoulder. "Some movies."
"Such as?"
"Mostly anime porn," Dean says, and Cas is doing it again, the chuckling/eye roll/head shake combo. "And some stuff I like to watch when I'm not doing great."
"Well, for me that would be documentaries."
"Wait." Dean blinks. "What? What did you say?"
"Documentaries. Preferably environmental, or perhaps historical in nature."
"No way, you're not gonna believe this," Dean says, a bit too much surprise on his face. "This is insane dude, check this out..."
He reaches into the bag, and Cas half believes he's about to pull out a copy of Disney's Earth. He's delighted to be wrong.
"Roadhouse."
Cas laughs again, and the beaming smile on Dean's face is what convinces him. He is definitely going to marry this guy.
he's alive he's thriving he's tending to his garden he's wearing a hat and his husband took a cute picture of him with a cheap film camera what's not to love!!
I made this for @one-more-offbeat-anthem's follower celebration day one prompt (gardening) congrats on your follower milestone it is very well deserved!! <33
“Dude, get off your phone.” Dean shoves Cas’s shoulder, but Cas ignores him and continues tapping away at the screen.
They’re supposed to be on a date, although Dean’s realized recently that if this (driving at night, listening to his favorite tapes, pulling over to look at the stars) counts as a date, then he and Cas have been going on dates for well over a decade.
It’s not an unwelcome realization, though.
Dean prods again. “I thought you were gonna show me some constellations.”
“You know more constellations than I do,” Cas replies. “Dean, do you know your star sign?”
“Yeah, I’m an Aquarius. Wait. Star sign?” Dean wrenches Cas’s phone from his hands. “Star sign compatibility? Really?”
“Jack said that his friends look this up and I thought it would be fun,” Cas says defensively, stealing his phone back. Dean would shove him, but they’re perched on the hood of the car and he doesn’t want to topple Cas.
“Cas, Jack’s friends are like, what, twenty years old?” Jack has started taking classes at a nearby community college, which is both a great and a terrible idea because he’s a four-year-old who was temporarily God but looks like a full-grown adult and therefore knows both everything about the universe and nothing at all simultaneously. “And you don’t have a birthday, anyways. Unless there’s a star sign for born at the dawn of time.”
“I wasn’t born at the dawn of time.” Cas sniffs. “I was born right after that. I’ll use September 18th.” He taps some more at the screen. “That makes me a Virgo.”
“Let’s see if we’re doomed forever.” Dean throws an arm around Cas’s shoulder and cranes his neck to look at the screen. “When Virgo and Aquarius join together in a love match, they bring out either the best or worst in one another.”
“We have both tried to kill each other,” Cas comments.
“Under mind control. Does the Mark of Cain count as mind control?”
“It could, if the person bearing it didn’t voluntarily take it.” Cas doesn’t sound too mad, though. “Virgo has a more rigid, theory-oriented approach to life. The poetic Aquarian approach, on the other hand, knows nothing of the scientific world.”
“You’re more rigid, alright.” Dean squeezes Cas’s shoulder.
“As a fallen angel, I would disagree.” Cas leans into him. “Maybe in the beginning I was more rigid. Let’s see.” He reads the next line. “Aquarius tends to passionate and temperamental while Virgo operates more methodically, and with little fuss.”
“Don’t say anything about my temper,” Dean warns.
“You are very passionate.”
Dean’s cheeks warm and he can’t think of a retort for that. “So according to...” He looks closer at the screen (Cas and Sam are trying to bully him into getting reading glasses, and he’s starting to have to admit that maybe they’re right). “Astrology.Com, are we compatible or not?”
“I’m not sure it matters.” Cas shoves his phone in his pocket and turns to kiss Dean. It’s dark enough outside without the glow of the screen that he misses at first, but then their lips slide together, and just like every time since the first kiss, it’s perfect in its own way.
They’ll get to looking at the constellations eventually.
Day 4 of @one-more-offbeat-anthem follower celebration <3
“Clear night. Wanna come out with me?”
Cas looked up when he heard Dean ask him from across the library table, but he didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. Enjoying the blushing cheeks of his new boyfriend as he tried to act nonchalant about asking him out on a date. It was getting easier for Dean to invite him to places, it was always so easy for them, but since they talked about their feelings, Dean has been more hesitant. As if Cas might have changed his mind and will deny him anything.
They ended up laying on the hood of the impala; shoulders pressed together as Cas pointed up at the sky and made up stories of the stars that made Dean laugh. They were finishing their dinner, Cas enjoying Dean’s curly fries more than his regular ones when he looked up when Dean chuckled.
“I’m glad you’re comfortable to steal my food now.”
“I don’t think we ever hesitated to eat off each other’s plates.” Cas picked the nicest curliest fry and gave it to Dean to enjoy. Dean always commented how the nicest curly fry tasted the best. “I saved you the best one, though.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Dean opened his mouth, and Cas fed it to him without a second thought. Enjoying the blush and shy smile on his boyfriend. “Talk to me more about the stars.”
Cas dropped his trash in the paper bags on the floor before he laid on his side to look down at Dean. He looked shocked before he relaxed with an easy smile. Cas smiled back, his hand reaching to caress the freckled face gently.
His finger gently followed a pattern of freckles on Dean’s nose. “Well, these right here-” Dean laughed, nose scrunching up, but Cas didn’t stop. “Are one of my favorite stars. They make a small constellation I like to call...cute.”
“You’re stupid.”
“Maybe so, but don’t interrupt.” He moved his finger down to trace the top of his cheek. “And this one is called adored.” He moved down his jaw. “And this one it’s called treasured.” He poked at his chin, his thumb gently swiping at his lower lip. “The one here is called precious.”
“Do I have that many?” Dean reached to gently tug Cas closer from the back of his neck, his fingers in his hair as he tilted his head up.
“You have galaxies,” Cas whispered as their lips brushed together. “And every single one is loved so much.”
“Prove it.” Dean smiled before they were kissing under the stars.
6x03 ‘The Third Man’ // Joan Miró, ‘Ciphers and Constellations in Love with a Woman’ (1941)
inspired by (x) @windmillcas
for @one-more-offbeat-anthem’s 1k follower celebration day 4 prompt: stargazing!
my personal headcanon for Cas’ true form is that he looks like Joan Miró’s Constellations paintings - Cas figures out that he can show Dean his true form when he’s dreaming, and looking at Cas reminds Dean of stargazing bc there’s just so MUCH of him to look at and it makes Dean feel small and powerless in comparison but he doesn’t care because Cas is so beautiful-
for @one-more-offbeat-anthem ‘s 1k followers celebration
prompt: libraries
(also on ao3)
Stepping into the bunker’s library was like time stopped existing for a while, easily swallowed by the millions of words one could get lost in. Sam knew this, and so did Cas. Dean, on the other hand, felt more like a kid forced to do his homework, mostly because that’s what he did every time he set foot on the place. Research monsters and ways to kill them. Subsequently kill said monsters. Repeat.
Dean loved reading, just not about whatever lore they specifically happened to need. Whenever he found a book compelling, he’d take it with him to the Dean cave, or his room, or to a patch of grass near the bunker, if he felt like getting some air. He’d read for hours, if things like the imminent end of the world didn’t interrupt him so often. If a book was genuinely good, Dean found himself unable to tear his eyes from its pages by his own volition. It was always Sam or Cas who had to get his attention, sometimes with a lot of effort.
However, the moment he had to read a book related to a hunt, he couldn’t go past four lines without getting distracted or tired. Maybe he just hated being forced to do things instead of doing them because he wanted to.
This was why Dean never willingly set foot on the library unless it was necessary. Which was also why Cas was incredibly surprised when he found him sitting on said room’s hardwood floor, back against a bookshelf, a heavy and leather-bound book opened on his lap.
“What are you reading?” Cas said to Dean in lieu of a greeting. Dean, however, remained unaware of the angel’s presence, lost in the yellowing pages of his current reading material.
Cas waved his hands in front of the hunter’s face, hoping to get his attention. “Dean...?” Still nothing. He silently sat down beside Dean, and turned his gaze towards his profile. His expression showed the same precise focus he always had during hunts, his right brow slightly furrowed, his mouth turned just a tiny bit downwards.
Cas knew by now it wasn’t a good idea to scare him, so he tentatively placed his fingers on the crook of Dean’s elbow over his red flannel, and stroked down the length of his arm, until he reached the inside of his wrist. Finally, Dean looked up. There was a hint of a smile on his face, but it was accompanied by a (lovely, in Castiel’s humble opinion) red tint spread across his cheeks that suggested he was embarrassed. Cas guided his eyes downwards to look at whatever Dean was so focused on just a minute ago. One hundred and one accurate facts about angels, read the subtitle. Cas smiled to himself.
“I just… think it’s important to know more about my best friend. Y’know?” Dean spoke, a little sheepishly, but without a hint of regret or defensiveness.
Cas shuffled a little closer, feeling Dean’s warmth seeping through his own layers of clothing. He hadn’t yet removed his fingers from where they were posed on Dean’s wrist. Instead, he slid them a little further down. Dean let go of the page he was holding and slotted their fingers together, tracing little circles with his thumb on the back of Cas’ hands.
“Dean, you know you can just ask me, right? Anything you want.” Cas said, his voice soft, almost a whisper.
Dean took a little too long to answer, focused on his own thumb, idly drawing patterns on Cas’ skin. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He lifted his head then, tracing the angel’s features with his eyes until they landed on Castiel’s own. He only had to move a couple inches closer to connect their lips in a fleeting kiss.
Cas always thought if they ever kissed, there would be some panic involved. He imagined himself getting frozen, or Dean running away in horror. Instead, he looked at Dean and saw- calm. The slowly spreading smile on his face was one of those that came with a certain happiness, the kind that settled deeply in his bones and clung to his heart. This time, it was Cas who leaned forward first.
They kissed for a while, sharing each other’s space as if basking in the sun. Later, Dean leaned back against the bookshelf, and brought Cas’ head down to settle on his shoulder. Then, he said: “Go on then, tell me about you, angel.”
Some days later, when Cas asked him what his favorite place in the bunker was, Dean said the library.
written for day 5 of @one-more-offbeat-anthem's follower celebration || prompt: farmer's market
“Hi Krista.” Cas transferred his cloth bags to his other hand—tomatoes, mason jars, bell peppers, and corn on the cob bumping against his leg—and reached for Jack’s hand. The five-year old poked at the peaches, plums, and apricots lined up at a precarious angle on Krista’s stand. “Jack, careful.”
Straightening up from behind the stand with a crate of fruit, Krista beamed at them. “Hey, Cas, hi, Jack! How’s it going?”
“I got a donut!” Jack told her. Remains of the powdered pastry on his face proved this fact true, and Cas licked his thumb, then wiped at Jack’s cheek. Jack squirmed away. “And we’re having burgers tonight!”
“Sounds like fun. Claire come with you today?”
“She’s coming later,” Jack said. “She has a…” He peered up at Cas, squinting a little. “Prior obligation.” He stumbled over the words a little, but Cas nodded at him. In truth, Claire and Kaia were on a hunt, but after too many concerned calls from teachers, they’d managed to explain to Jack why that information couldn’t be shared with everyone.
“She’ll be staying with us—Jack, no.” Cas tugged a little at Jack’s hand as Jack tried to grab a plum. “She’ll be staying with us for a few days.”
“Aww, I’m glad she could come visit.” Krista gestured to her stand. “Looking for anything in particular? Or just browsing?”
“Just browsing,” Cas said. “I believe Dean wanted fruit to make a pie for tonight.” Looking for Dean, he scanned the center town square where the weekly farmer’s market took place, small tents and wide tables quickly becoming obscured by the growing crowds. They always had plans to arrive early to avoid the worst of the crowds, but unfortunately, mornings did not always agree with him. And this morning Dean had been particularly persuasive to stay in bed longer.
“Well, I’m assuming that’s what he wants to make,” he said, turning back to Krista after failing to spot Dean in the crowds. “Today’s been a bit chaotic.”
First Claire texting late last night that she and Kaia were coming over—which prompted a scrambling to make sure the guest room was clean—then Jack spilling his orange juice at breakfast—dammit, he still had a stain on his shirt—now Dean disappearing and leaving him to carry ten thousand bags—Cas’ fault for buying two jars of honey plus a box of honeycomb, plus various vegetables and baked goods, but still.
“Well, I got some really ripe peaches today,” Krista told him.
Cas started to respond, but movement drew his eyes to Jack just in time to watch him poke at a peach and shift the entire infrastructure of perfectly balanced fruit. Though he leapt forward to stop the avalanche, he couldn’t get there in time to save ten or more peaches from launching themselves into the air and rolling away.
Krista started laughing and, face burning, Castiel crouched to collect the fallen peaches, bags banging against his knees. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for these. Jack, say sorry.”
“Sorry,” Jack said, toeing at the dirt and looking chastened. “Didn’t mean to.”
“It’s alright.” Krista came around the front to help pick up the peaches. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.” Straightening with two in each hand, she asked Jack, “You wanna try a piece?”
“Yes!” Jack said with a clap of his hands.
“You don’t have to—” Cas started, but Krista was already pulling out a cutting board and knife from behind the stand and cutting into the peach.
“The best part of coming to a farmer’s market is the free samples,” she said. Juices seeped onto the board as she divided the peach into thick slices. “Here.” She offered a slice to Jack first, who crammed it eagerly in his mouth, then one to Cas.
Juggling the runaway peaches in his arms, he took the pale yellow slice and bit into it. Sweet with just enough tartness, soft skin and buttery smooth flesh.
“Mmm,” he said, catching juice dripping down the side of his hand. “Those are very good.”
“Told you so,” Krista smiled. She held out a box and Cas placed the peaches that had tried to make their escape inside. Sixteen in total. Much more than they needed for a pie. Well, at least they were delicious.
“Why you buying so many peaches, man?”
Hefting the box of peaches into the crook of his arm, Cas turned to see Dean walking over, a brown bag in one hand, an open container in the other displaying a half-eaten slice of pie. “There you are.”
“Yeah, sorry, got distracted talking to Liam.” He gestured in the direction of the meat vendor with a plastic fork, then back at the pie slice. “Dude, you have to try this, it’s so good.”
“You want a peach sample, Dean?” Krista asked.
“Oh, hell yeah.” He took the slice from her. “Best part of coming to these markets.” Krista gave Cas an amused I told you so look.
“Anyway,” Dean said around a mouthful. “I’m thinking about rigging up a sheet in the backyard with the projector. Ya know, to watch movies tonight? Thinking Sam and Eileen can come over too, make a whole get-together out of it.”
How quickly plans for a quiet Saturday night could turn into a boisterous Winchester and Co. event. Dean’s eyes were bright, though, and Jack’s eyes were wide in amazement at this idea.
“Sounds good to me,” Cas agreed, and Jack cheered. Dean held out a forkful of pie, and, leaning forward, Cas let Dean feed it to him. He nodded thoughtfully, appreciating the spices and crunch of sugar. “Your pies are better.”
“You’re lying,” Dean said, though he looked appropriately pleased. Jack clambered at his legs, so he gave him a forkful too, then tossed the empty carton in a nearby trashcan. Cas paid for the peaches—and a few plums and apricots too because he’d never been good at self-control in a farmer’s market.
Jack bounced eagerly, babbling about Claire and donuts and Finding Nemo and Toy Story, "... and the peaches went flying." He swung his arms wildly to demonstrate, and Dean scooped him up. When Jack tried to get away, he turned him upside down, and Jack’s protests turned into screaming laughter which caused more than a few glances their way. Cas smiled despite himself and fixed Jack’s shirt, which was sliding to his head.
“I got everything I need,” he told Dean, holding up his bags and boxes.
“Well, I got the sack of potatoes,” Dean said, shaking Jack a little.
“No!” Jack said, his face turning red. “Not potatoes. Jack!”
“What?” Dean turned him right-side up and stared at him like he was seeing him for the first time. Jack giggled. “Sorry, dude, my bad.” He set him on his feet and took some of the bags from Cas. “See ya, Krista.”
“Have a good rest of your day,” Krista told them. Cas waved to her as they walked off. Jack squeezed himself in between him and Dean, taking their free hands.
“I wanna make peach pie,” he told Dean.
“Sure, Cas has enough for three of them.”
“And ice cream,” Jack said. “And donuts and burgers and hot dogs.” He jumped and Dean and Cas took the cue, lifting him to swing him between them. Jack whooped, and Cas started laughing.
“What?” Dean asked, grinning as he swung Jack again.
“Nothing.” He smiled at them. “Just enjoying the day.”
