Fireplace
The bunker has four fireplaces. Castiel’s favorite is the one in the living room. It’s a dark mahogany wood, with a thin layer of granite to protect it from burning. It’s tall and wide, with a long mantel. The open space on top of it used to be bare, but ever since Castiel moved in he’s filled it. Now the mantel is covered with garland and soft white lights. There are a few silver picture frames showing their less than conventional family. Three mismatched stockings hang there. The only way Castiel could get them to participate is if they could pick out their own, instead of having to get ‘stupid’ matching ones. Castiel is looking at the fireplace now, his eyes getting distracted by the flickering flame. A glass of red wine hangs loosely by the long fingers of his right hand. Dean watches him from the doorway, trying to keep his breathing even. Castiel’s blue dress shirt is hanging open, revealing a wrinkled white shirt underneath. He takes another sip of wine, thinking about the long day he’s had. He spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours fighting off the side effects of the damn curse. Despite the fact that he’s technically fixed now, he can’t shake the feeling that something is different. Small things make him want to burst into tears. Little side comments from Dean makes him want to scream. Earlier, when they were all discussing the latest case, Castiel practically chewed Dean’s head off. Then stormed off with tears streaking his cheeks. Dean shifts his weight, pressing harder against the door frame. He hates the way Castiel looks right now, his sleeves rolled up and his shirt wrinkled. The angel is on his second bottle of wine, making his hands shake as he brings the glass to his lips. He looks off somehow. Dean’s been watching him for the last day, trying to place what’s wrong. When Castiel is done taking a sip he grunts. “Stop staring.” He says quietly, just loud enough for Dean to hear. Dean coughs awkwardly, pushing off the wall and coming towards him. “I’m worried about you.” Dean whispers, squatting down in from of Castiel. “Don’t be.” Castiel doesn’t even look at him as he continues to drink his wine. Dean watches him from this new point of view. It’s the first time in weeks he’s been able to get this close. “Look at me.” His hand comes up in the air but pauses halfway to Castiel’s face. It hangs there, like a promise. Castiel holds his breath for a minute, then blue eyes meet green. Dean’s breath comes in fast and sharp. He finally figures out what’s happening. He’s broken. Castiel, the perfect angel of the lord, is broken. “Let me help.” Dean finds himself saying, turning his hand palm up. Castiel stares at it for a long time before nodding. “Okay.” The word is nothing more than a croak, but Dean understands. Castiel’s hand shakes as Dean takes it in his own, helping the angel stand up. Next he takes the glass of wine and places it on top of the fireplace. Castiel goes to protest but Dean shakes his head, knowing the pull alcohol can have on a person all too well. “You don’t need it.” He pushes Castiel’s dress shirt off of his shoulders, then runs a finger along the hem of the shirt underneath. Castiel stares up at him, hope and trust clear in his expression. His bright blue eyes shine bright as Dean pulls the white material up and over his head. “Gorgeous.” Dean whispers, nodding when Castiel bites his lip. “Are you sure?” Castiel whispers. “That you’re gorgeous?” Dean asks with a smile. “Sure am.” “No. Dean.” Castiel takes a step back, gesturing to the space between them. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Dean closes the gap between them again, running his thumb along the angel’s jawline. “Don’t just do this to fix me Dean.” Castiel’s whole body is shaking as he stares at the man he’s loved for years. The man who he has literally gone to hell and back for. “Because you will break me more. I’ll shatter if you do this and walk away.” Dean stares at him, holding his breath. This is the moment he’s been waiting for. All or nothing. If he kisses Castiel right now, it will mean everything. It will mean no going back. When they collide it’s fast and hard. Dean’s mouth searches for Castiel’s, his fingers twisting in the unruly black hair. Neither of them are really sure how they ended up on the floor, but at some point they are there. Dean pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath. “One sec.” He whispers, jumping up. Castiel freezes, thinking that Dean changed his mind. In just seconds Dean is back with a warm flannel blanket and a pillow for Castiel’s head. “I know you’ve done this before so I don’t need to make it special or whatever but,” Dean shrugs. He places the pillow on the floor and helps Castiel adjust. Then he straddles the angel, giving him a reassuring smile before wrapping the blanket around them both. “I just want you to be comfortable.” “Thank you.” Castiel whispers. Dean slowly kisses his way up his body. He pauses at Castiel’s neck, smiling against his soft skin. Castiel shivers, and Dean pulls the blanket tighter around them. He creates a tent above them, trapping their body heat. Castiel sighs, his eyes closing in pleasure. Dean moves slowly above him, like they have all the time in the world. And honestly, at this moment it feels like they do. When they’re done, Castiel lays in Dean’s arms, Dean listening to his soft breathing. He knows he’s an angel, but he seems so incredibly human in this moment. As if to prove him right, Castiel shivers again. Dean pulls the blanket up from where it slipped, trying to keep the man warm. Once the blanket is firmly wrapped around them Castiel sighs happily. “I love you.” He whispers, watching as the flame continues to flicker. Dean’s chest constricts as he smiles. “I love you too.” “It’ll burn out, you know.” Castiel’s voice comes out weak. “The fire will.” Dean breathes, listening to the crackle of the logs. “Not us.”