1. Big Bird In A Small Cage - Patrick Watson // 2. Gold - Wake Owl // 3. All This And Heaven Too - Florence + the Machine // 4. For Beginners - M. Ward // 5. Blue Lips - Regina Spektor // 6. Trouble - Coldplay // 7. Boy With A Coin - Iron & Wine // 8. Roslyn - Bon Iver and St. Vincent // 9. Hero - Regina Spektor // 10. Graceless - The National // 11. In The Next Room - Lauren O’Connell // 12. Doubt - The Boxer Rebellion
Prompt request by broken-bullets-to-kill. This took me SO LONG, I am so sorry!
Prompt: “Marry me?”
from this post
1,743 words
read on ao3
Castiel wants to ask for Sam’s permission first. He knows it’s silly, but he’s grown so fond of human traditions, and since he is now so close to being human himself, he figures he might as well have the full experience. Ordinarily, it would be the parents that one would ask, but seeing as Sam is the only family Dean has left, he seems a suitable choice. So one evening while Dean is in the bunker’s garage working on the Impala, Cas asks Sam if they can talk. They sit at the table with a couple of beers, Sam looking concerned.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes, of course. I just wanted to ask you something.”
Sam’s face lights up. “Oh my god. You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”
Cas feels his face flush. “Well, if it’s that obvious, do you think Dean already knows as well?”
“No. Definitely not. He’d never see something like this coming. Oh my god. I’m so happy for you guys.”
“I haven’t even asked him yet, Sam. He might say no. He’ll probably say no. I mean, this isn’t his kind of thing.”
Sam shakes his head. “You underestimate how into you he is. He thought he’d never get married because of the life. He never thought he’d have the opportunity to ask someone. But if you ask him, there’s no way he could turn you down.”
Cas smiles. “So it’s alright with you?”
“Of course it is. You’re already family, but let’s make it official. When are you gonna ask him?
Cas lowers his voice, even though the garage is on the other side of the bunker. “I don’t know. Originally I wanted to wait a while, but just having the ring is making me impatient.”
“Do you have it on you?”
Cas looks both ways, half afraid that Dean will suddenly appear in a doorway or jump out from behind a piece of furniture. He reaches into the pocket of his trench coat (which he still wears out of habit, even if it looks silly layered over Dean’s old band T-shirts) and pulls out the tiny black box, sliding it across the table to Sam.
“Wow,” Sam whispers when he opens the box. The ring is a silver band with a stripe all the way around it that seems to be blue and white and silver all at the same time. “Wait, is that – ?”
“Some of my grace, yes. Just a tiny bit.”
“How?”
“There are welding supplies in the garage. I fused it to the metal.”
“It’s beautiful, Cas. He’s gonna love it.” He closes the box and passes it back to him. “Why did you want to wait?”
“Because I’m afraid he’ll say no, and get scared, and want me to leave.”
“I really don’t think that’s going to happen. And I wouldn’t let him kick you out, anyway.”
Cas imagines proposing for what must be the hundredth time today, and feels the resulting adrenaline course through his system, altering his judgment. It’s something that used to bother him, but now it feels simultaneously thrilling and familiar.
“Do you think I should do it now?” he asks.
“If you feel ready, go for it,” Sam says.
He takes a few gulps of his beer (alcohol actually has quite an effect on him now that his grace has been fading for a few years, and he’s grown fond of cheap beer) and stands up. “Okay. I’ll do it now.”
“You’re gonna do fine,” Sam says.
Cas tries to smile in appreciation of Sam’s support, but he’s not sure if he’s successful. He stands there for a moment, staring off into space until Sam shoos him away, saying, “Go, go.”
On the walk to the garage, Cas feels like he’s on his way to be executed. It’s only when he approaches the door and hears Dean singing along (terribly) to Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd that he feels slightly less afraid.
Dean’s in a gray T-shirt and jeans, covered in dirt and grease, working on something under the hood of the Impala, ignorant to Castiel’s presence in the garage. Cas smirks when Dean drops something and stops singing to mutter, “Shit.”
“Hello, Dean.”
Dean turns around, setting down his wrench and wiping his hands on the rag that’s draped over his shoulder (not that it does much good, as it’s covered in grease as well). “Heya, Cas,” he says.
Cas automatically moves forward, and Dean kisses his forehead.
“What’s up?” Dean asks. “You just miss me? Or is Sam boring you to tears?”
Cas scoffs. “I think you find your brother far more boring than I do, Dean.”
“So you miss me,” he says smugly.
“I always miss you,” Cas says, and he’s being serious, even if Dean laughs.
“Alright, well I can be done in a few minutes here, so you could go run us a hot shower if you want, and I’ll catch up.” He quirks his eyebrow in that positively sinful way, and Cas almost takes his suggestion.
Almost. But there’s something about Dean standing there in his beat-up jeans with dirt all over him and a smudge of grease on his cheek that makes Cas think that now is the right time. Because Dean’s never been one for things being clean or perfect, and their relationship certainly never has been either of those. This is the Dean that Cas loves, the Dean who sings when he thinks no one is listening, and gives forehead kisses after only hours apart, and wants to shower together, and pours his heart and soul into his car, and has that stupid look on his face, and manages to look beautiful while he’s covered in dirt and grime.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” Cas says, ignoring the fact that it’s suddenly very difficult to breathe.
Dean gets a worried look that’s almost identical to the one his brother gave Cas less than twenty minutes ago, and Cas resists the urge to roll his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “No one’s in trouble.”
“Oh,” Dean says, but his brows are still furrowed. He turns off the music and sits down on a stool, like he’s bracing himself for bad news.
Cas puts his hand in his pocket, just to have his hand on the box before he starts talking. He clears his throat awkwardly. “You might think this is unnecessary, but I wanted to do it, because… well, I just wanted to. So even if you think it’s just a technicality, or too, um, traditional, I don’t want you to think that it’s too good for you. Because you seem to think a lot of things are too good for you, but they’re not. You’re too good for a lot of things, actually. And I might be one of the things. The things that you’re too good for.” He’s rambling. Dean’s frowning. This is not going the way he rehearsed it a million times in his head. “Anyway, I am a completely changed being because of you, and I never thought I would feel the things I feel now, and I, um…” he trails off as he pulls the box out of his pocket. His hands are shaking, and Dean’s mouth is hanging slightly open, but he keeps going, kneeling down, opening the box and holding it out to Dean. “Will you marry me, Dean Winchester?”
Dean hesitates, but eventually takes the box from Cas’ trembling hand with one of his own. His frown deepens when his eyes rest on the band of swirling blue and white embedded in the silver. “You – ” he starts.
“It’s my grace. Just a bit of it. Not enough to do me any harm.” After a moment of silence, he adds, “If it bothers you, I could get you something else. I just wanted you to have a piece of it, before the rest of it’s gone.”
“Cas,” Dean whispers.
“You don’t have to answer tonight,” he says as he gets up. “You could think about it, if you need to.”
“No! I mean, yes. The answer is yes. If you wanna get married, then I wanna get married.” He looks down at the ring. “I want to put it on, but my hands…”
“Do you think I would make you a ring that couldn’t handle a little dirt, Dean? It’ll rinse right off. I promise.”
Dean grins and gingerly pulls it out of the box. He’s about to slide it onto his ring finger, but he pauses and hands the ring to Cas. He holds out his hand so Cas can put it on for him. “You’re not gonna tell Sammy about this –” he mutters as Cas slides it into place, “ – the whole you putting the ring on for me, thing. So stupid.”
“I’ve turned you into a sap,” Cas says.
“You’re the one who put your life force in a damn piece of metal, you romantic asshole.”
“So you like it?”
“It’s perfect, Cas. I’d, uh, kiss you, but I should probably shower first.”
“No,” Cas says. “You’re going to kiss me now.”
“Oh, am I?” Dean says, and uses his hand to smear Cas’ face with grease.
Cas narrows his eyes, trying his best to look displeased. Dean finally leans in and catches Cas’ lips with his own. But the kiss doesn’t last long, as both of them keep laughing. It’s from both the ridiculousness of the situation and the kind of pure elation that bubbles to the surface in the form of uncontrollable laughter.
“Hey, Dean?” Cas says when he’s able to breathe again.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t have a last name to give you. I suppose I could use Novak, but it’s not truly mine. So I was wondering if I could take your name.”
“You’re already a Winchester by association, but you know what? I like the idea of making it official.”
“That’s almost exactly what Sam said when I asked for his permission.”
“You asked my little brother if you could have my hand?”
“Yes. He’s probably sitting in the other room waiting to find out if you accepted.”
“Well, let’s go tell him the good news. And after that, my shower offer still stands.” He throws Cas a wink.
They walk down the hall together, both of them grinning. Dean can’t keep his eyes off of the ring on his finger, and Cas can’t keep his eyes off of Dean.
I feel like it might be coming to a close within 3-5 chapters at this point. Thanks to everyone who sticks with it even through my ridiculously long hiatuses.
Please note that chapter 15 does have some casual transphobia in the dialogue.
