43 (I love you through sparks and shining dragons)
Dean wakes up early on the morning of January 24th, 2022 | Rating: Mature | wc ~ 1.4k
I wrote this at 6AM, from my hotel room in the Carribeans. Frankly, Dean deserves as much for his 43.
You can choose to read this as if Dean and Cas are in Heaven, or if they own a lake house post-canon somewhere in Kansas or South Dakota. I left it open so that everyone can choose whatever they like.
Happy birthday, Dean-o. I love you forever. (So does Cas, and everyone else. They’ll be around soon.) 💙
Dean awakes to something cold pressing against his (naked) shoulder blades. He groans, but presses back into Cas’ solid weight and huffs with comfort when his angel wraps his arms around his waist, and he can feel his mop of hair tickling against the nape of his neck.
“Cas,” he groans, voice still thick-sleep.
“Mhm?” Cas answers, no doubt still halfway back into sleep already.
“I thought we said no more middle of the night wandering,” Dean says, a smile making its way to his lips when he feels Cas’ hands tightening their hold on his chest.
A few years ago, maybe Dean would’ve been ashamed to admit it, but it’s not like he cares about what anyone thinks anymore. It’s good to be held. Particularly by Cas.
“Special occasion,” Cas grumbles, kissing the line of Dean’s shoulder softly, his stubble scraping the skin of Dean’s back and causing goosebumps all over Dean’s skin.
“What special occasion?” Dean asks, slightly confused as he raises a hand and runs his fingers lightly through Cas’ hair, keeping him pressed against him, wanting more kisses, more caress, more everything.
And Cas does, of course he does.
He nuzzles against Dean’s neck, kissing the soft skin there. Dean sighs, content, cared for.
“Go back to sleep, Dean,” Cas says instead of answering, as he drops another kiss behind Dean’s ear.
It might be only minutes or several hours when he wakes up again, but Cas’ weight is gone from behind him. It’s not unusual, but still it keeps Dean awake and alert as he sits in bed, looking around for signs of his husband.
The sweatpants are gone, but the Zeppelin t-shirt he had on last night before bed is still on the floor where Dean sent it flying at some point. Dean’s about to get up and send a search rescue when he hears the third step of the stairs from their lake house crack distinctly and he smiles, looking at the door expectantly.
Barely a minute later and Cas strolls in, a tray with coffee, pancakes and bacon on it. He doesn’t even know what the occasion is, but his stomach grumbles happily at the sight as Cas stumbles inside, kicks the door closed with his feet before turning back to him with a smile. For a second Dean can’t take his eyes off him- the way the light of the early morning frames him, the mess of his hair, the solid line of his shoulder, the tattoo on his ribs, the way the blue of his eyes twinkle as they look at each other.
He has a smile on his lips when he drops the tray carefully on Dean’s bedside table, and he laughs against Dean’s lips when Dean draws him back into bed, hands holding his hips and quickly slipping under the sweatpants, cupping his (glorious) ass.
“Not that my stomach is unhappy, but what’s the occasion, sweetheart?” Dean asks as Cas grumbles happily into his mouth when Dean’s hands slip under his boxers, one hand on his ass and the other getting a hold of the hard line of his cock. “Did you get up with this? Rude, you could’ve told me.”
Cas kisses him, sucking his bottom lip greedily as Dean takes care of him, hand assured on him.
It doesn’t even take 5 minutes for Cas to be panting on top of him, Dean’s clever hand bringing him to climax quickly and efficiently. His lips peppers Dean with kisses as he gets him through his orgasm, his breath only evening when Dean lets him lie back into bed.
“Good morning,” Dean smiles, from above him then, satisfied.
Cas surges up and takes Dean’s face into both of his hands before kissing him like there’s not tomorrow.
(Technically, there isn’t anymore, but it’s not like Dean cares.)
“Happy birthday,” Cas smiles against his mouth when he draws back just a whisker to look at him, and Dean’s breath kind of stutters, confused.
“It’s my birthday?” he asks as Cas kisses a path from his cheek to the junction of his neck, nipping at the tendon there and drawing a whimper from Dean.
“Why do you think I got up this early? I had to get eggs from Mrs Dormer to make your pancakes,” Cas grumbles, wandering hands slipping past the waistband of Dean’s black boxers.
But Dean’s too stunned to react yet. He doesn’t know why it hit him that hard this morning, how he even managed to forget that today was January 24th.
Maybe it’s the comfortable life they finally settled in, after so many years of fighting. Maybe it’s the fact that Cas is here beside him now, that he knows he doesn’t have to wake up to an empty bed and a Colt under the pillow. Maybe it’s the prospect of knowing Sam is safe, a few miles away with Eileen and their little girl.
Maybe it’s the matching silver wedding bands, sitting proudly and shiny on his and Cas’ fingers, providing enough reassurance that life is, in fact, okay.
Or maybe, just maybe- age doesn’t matter anymore when you know you won’t be biting the dust because of the apocalypse, or God, or a Knight of Hell anymore.
So Dean allows himself to sink into the comfort of Cas’ hands again. The pancakes and coffee and bacon go slightly cold as Cas takes care of him- always with reverence, and hunger, and so much want.
Later, when they sit on the porch with the remnant of Cas’ breakfast, a thick blanket solidly wrapped around both of them, Dean watches as the sun goes up above the lake in front of the house. Cas worms his face into his neck, solidly wrapped around him, going for another nap.
Dean lets him. They have enough for a lifetime.
“Happy birthday,” he whispers into the crook of Dean’s neck, the warmth of his breath against the skin tickling Dean, making him squeeze Cas closer against him. “I love you.”
Dean’s breath hitches. It’s not that he’s not used to it by now- hell, they’ve been married for months, they’ve said way more sappy shit to each other by now than these simple three little words.
But there’s a different weight on these words on January 24th. There’s a different tone to Cas’ voice as he says it, as he brushes his lips in a barely there kiss under Dean’s jaw before happily going back to sleep right there, secured in Dean’s arms and under the blanket Sam and Eileen got them for Christmas.
There’s love, but there’s security, and life ahead.
Dean used to wake up on January 24th wondering if he’d be alive to see his next birthday.
This morning, as he watches the line of the sun following it’s route as it rises, Dean thinks that 43 looks pretty good, just like the road ahead.
“I love you too, Cas,” he whispers into Cas’ ear, brushing a kiss on Cas’ temple as he goes. “Thank you for breakfast, babe.”
“You deserve the world,” Cas answers, voice all gravel and honey, no doubt already half back into a sleepy haze.
Dean chuckles, keeping his lips pressed against Cas’ forehead.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice low, more for himself than anyone else.
A long time ago, in a barn in Illinois, an angel told him that good things did happen. He didn’t believe him then, too busy fighting the good fight between Good and Evil.
It took him time to believe him, years.
Much later, when the Sun will almost be down behind the line of the mountains, everyone will be around. Sam and Eileen will be there first, little Charlie on their hip. Jack should be here around the same time, probably with Jody and Donna, tightly clasped between Claire and Kaia. Dean’s probably forgetting a dozen, but the house will be filled with laughter and clinking beers, and love.
But as said Angel stumbles back into sleep, as Dean watches the Sun shine above the lake and reflect into the water, as Cas’ hand rests above his heart, wedding ring cold where it presses against Dean’ naked skin… Dean thinks back to the barn in Illinois, to Cas’ stance as he said “good things happen, Dean”.
This morning, Dean believes.
— taglist under the cut, pls ask to be added or removed! —
tangentwithtanner
kaledo-art
gummygunk
origamiaround
romaincrisis
areudirty
