this was written for @icarusdeancas for the @spncreatorgiftexchange. azrael, i really hope you enjoy this mess of dean and cas pining for one another with plenty of baby jack <3 happy new year everybody!!!!
read on ao3. first bit below!
Holy shit, Dean thinks. Cas bought a welcome mat. And then: I’m gonna puke on his welcome mat.
He shouldn’t be here, is the thing. He should be back at the bunker—which is too empty these days now that Mom’s hunting more and Sam’s always with Eileen—or out on the road looking for things to kill. He should get out of here and leave Cas alone, because every time Dean talks to him these days, it’s clear even over the phone just how good his life with Jack, how easy it is for him to be without Dean building a life that apparently includes welcome mats. But here Dean is anyway. Standing on this rickety old porch that could use a fresh coat of paint, breathing in the salty sea air, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door.
The seagulls cry out overhead. Dean’s stomach turns.
He knocks, three times in quick succession, before he can turn tail and get in Baby and peel out of here. For a moment, there’s nothing, and Dean thinks, okay. Okay, he’s not home. I can just go. But then he hears movement, the shifting of someone walking on old floorboards, and before the door opens, he has a single moment to think—panic-blind and embarrassingly eager—I’m about to see Cas again.
“Dean,” Cas says, lips parted in surprise, eyes wide and blue and deep. Dean drinks him in, taking in every detail he can. As much as they’ve texted and called—almost every day, which has been its own special brand of pain—it’s been six months since he saw Cas, and Jesus, Dean forgot how gorgeous he was. How soft his face can get.
“Hey, Cas,” he finally manages to say. His mouth has gone so dry, but at least it seems like the chance of him puking all over the place has gone down.
