#rosheadcanons

[rowan-underthehouse]

Dean has been making the same stupid joke since he was 18: waltz into some restaurant he’s never set foot in before, flash the server with one of his signature charming smiles and order “the usual”. Watch them squirm for a second, laugh it off, leave a good tip.

It was almost funny the first time. Sam’s been sick of it ever since.

He doesn’t think much of it until Dean and Cas invite him for breakfast to celebrate his engagement to Eileen. There’s a little place not far from their new house that Dean claims makes the best pancakes East of the state line. Sam suspects it’s only because they’ve started to taste like home.

The server puts down Dean and Cas’ coffee with a pleasant smile before he even greets Sam, three packets of Cas’ preferred sugar set next to his spoon and a mug for Dean much larger than standard. It must be intended for some kind of dessert. He only takes Sam’s order, getting quick confirmation from Cas and Dean that they don’t want to try anything new before he’s off to the kitchen again.

Sam will never forget the look on his brother’s face. He’s almost awestruck, staring at the coffee like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

“They remembered my order.”

“Aren’t you guys regulars here?”

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

It hits Sam like a brick. Every time he’s heard that joke has been a desperate reach for normalcy. A tiny stolen moment to pretend they had the luxury of a routine. But Dean doesn’t have to pretend anymore. Neither of them do. And with any luck, they never will again.

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[rowan-underthehouse]

Dean has imagined their first kiss more times than he can count.

Sometimes it happens the moment before he dies, a final, desperate plea for Cas to understand how he feels. Others he pictures something overly romantic: a nice dinner and flowers (Can you buy flowers for a dude? Dean should probably look it up.), then a walk down to some pier before he finally leans in. 

Most often it’s after a hunt, bloody and exhausted, but alive, riding the high of a no-strings-attached win.  He’s stands there time and time again, blood dripping from his fingertips, and wonders what would happen if he let the adrenaline carry him one step further. If he grabbed Cas by the waist and kissed him until they couldn’t breathe.

He’s never done it. They’ve left just like always, without more than a pat on the arm.

Dean never expected it would be simple.

It creeps up on him. Cas has long since traded awkwardly looming over the bed while Dean sleeps for curling next to him, once on top of the sheets, but now under them. It’s not strange for him to sling an arm over Dean in the night anymore, not strange for Sam to see them like that on his way to the shower the next morning. It wasn’t a conscious decision, it just happened. Gradually. Easily.

That’s where they are when the kiss finally happens, facing each other on some crappy, lumpy motel bed, sharing breath. Dean closes the gap like it’s nothing. Like it’s as natural as breathing. And when Cas kisses him back, there’s no death looming on the horizon. No battle won. No fresh-cut bouquet on the table. There’s just Cas, warm, and soft, and happy under Dean’s hands. A stolen moment before another long day. 

And Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[rowan-underthehouse]

Cas learns quickly as a human that there are many ways to be tired.

There’s the sleepy, disoriented sort of tired easily staved off by over-sweetened gas station coffee or a walk through the cold.

There’s a bone deep sort of exhaustion that comes after the many sleepless nights and long days of a hunt. The kind that makes him sit down in the shower, his arms so heavy he can barely scrub the grime from his hair.

And then there’s the kind of tired that sneaks up on him. He doesn’t feel it’s grip until it hits him all at once. It makes his head pound and his stomach churn until all he can do is sit motionless and be swept away by every wrong thing he’s done. He loses track of everything but the ways he hates himself. He can’t see a way things will ever get better.

The problem with this kind of tired is that he knows how to fix it. He knows if he can get himself into his bed and force his eyes closed that he’ll be able to bottle all those emotions back up come morning. But he doesn’t. He stays rooted to his spot, spiraling and too exhausted to pull himself to bed. 

That’s where Dean finds him tonight, hunched over at the map table, staring blankly ahead. To anyone else, it would look normal, but Dean knows. He always knows. 

He slings his arms around Cas’ shoulders, fingers idly adjusting the buttons of his overcoat.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and it’s poetry on his lips. “Come to bed.”

Castiel lets himself be led off by Dean, lets himself be buried in thick blankets and pulled tight to Dean’s chest. He lets the weariness drain from his body into the memory foam mattress. 

Being human is endless exhaustion, but if it means even one more moment like this, Cas will face it gladly.

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[rowan-underthehouse]

Dean finally opens ao3 when he’s drunk one night thinking he’ll find some crappy destiel smut and have a good laugh but he ends up staying up until 4am reading emotional hurt/comfort and crying because he didn’t know how much he needed to hear all those things until he did.

[rowan-underthehouse]

Teenage Dean lets it slip that he's always wanted a piercing when he's having drinks with Bobby and Rufus, so Rufus is immediately like "Bobby it's time to go drop everything" and they take Dean to get his ears pierced. When John makes a comment about it Bobby gets his ears pierced too and then looks John in the eyes and dares him to say something about it.

[rowan-underthehouse]

The first time it rains after Cas becomes human, Dean finds him sitting outside on the curb, face turned skyward, eyes closed and dorky smile plastered on his face, letting the rain soak him.

Dean watches from the doorway at first, not wanting to disturb him, but quietly approaches when he realizes Cas is shivering. He sits beside him and wraps his coat around Cas’ shoulders without considering the way his own shirt is now getting drenched. They sit in silence for a moment before Cas finally speaks.

“You can smell the rain hitting the pavement. And it becomes so reflective under the street lights. It’s beautiful. I never noticed that before.”

“It is. I should have seen it sooner.” Dean says, but he’s not looking at the pavement.

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[rowan-underthehouse]

If Cas ever ended up in an IKEA for some reason, he’d spend the whole time admiring the little staged homes and thinking about a world where he and Dean could have something like this: a dining table with enough chairs to have their whole family over, cutlery in the drawers that they chose themselves, comfortable spots to curl up in every corner. A world where Dean would want something like this. Where he’d want Cas too.

[rowan-underthehouse]

What do you mean Bobby is dead? I was literally at his house last weekend looking at photos of him walking Dean down the aisle. He’s fine!