Have Love, Wll Travel - Epilogue
Eighteen months later
Dean hums to himself as he rinses shampoo out of his hair, reveling in the feel of the beating of the water, just this side of painful. He may have teased Castiel long ago about his fancy humongous shower with more showerheads than can be counted on one hand, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't look forward to jumping in here every day, luxuriating in the feel of the thick streams of water pounding out all the knots in his muscles.
Standing under the highest of the showerheads, he smiles to himself as he recalls their anniversary dinner the night before. They'd argued on and off for months about what date exactly to celebrate as their 'anniversary,' so after much debate they'd agreed to just celebrate everything. The first night they'd met, the first time Dean crawled into Castiel's lap for a dance, the first time Dean visited Castiel's apartment (which of course, was an additional celebration of when Castiel first met Sam and the day they found Zeppy, though Dean drew the line at wearing the party favors Castiel bought for them, choosing instead to laugh and take pictures of Zeppy looking very forlorn in her hat), their first kiss, the night Castiel saved Dean's life and the first time they fucked, and all the other little firsts they've experienced together so far.
It's been practically a year-long celebration, the happiest year of Dean's life to date, culminating in last night's anniversary of the day Dean moved in with Castiel. But it hasn't been a perfect year, by any means. They still fight more often than either of them would like, both so stubborn and headstrong, not used to sharing themselves so completely with another person. Both of them are still terrified of losing each other as well as themselves, which leads to arguments about stupid, petty shit, like what to eat for dinner and Dean leaving his wet towels all over the bedroom floor.
Other arguments are more painful, though, and cut them both so deeply and profoundly that they keep away from each other for days afterwards. The disagreements may appear to be about different things, but their roots are always the same" the fear of opening themselves up to each other, terrified of being hurt or disappointed, or worse, being the one to hurt or disappoint.
One of the worst arguments they've had in the past was about Dean's job situation. Castiel had nagged Dean for weeks and months after he'd moved into the apartment about quitting all of his jobs but the one at the garage. Dean had hated the thought of giving up that extra income, even though he was saving a shitload of money already by moving in with Castiel. He'd forced Cas to let him help pay the monthly bills, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was just Castiel's kept boy.
Breathing in the steam from the hot water, Dean can still remember the panic he'd felt when Castiel first approached him about giving up the stripping and lawn care jobs to make time for college and paramedic training. Dean's first instinct was to assume the worst. "You're ashamed of me!" he'd yelled, backing away.
Castiel had scoffed, "Of course I'm not ashamed of you, Dean! I just want to help you achieve your dream. You want this, you told me so, remember?"
"Don't you fucking tell me what I want," Dean had retorted bitterly. "You don't know me. And don't try to tell me what to do, either. This is none of your business!"
Idiot that he is, he'd stormed out, feeling cornered, and pressured, and terrified that Castiel was right - that now really was the moment he'd always dreamed of, the right time to finally go and try to be the person he always wanted to be. After a week of sulking and freaking the fuck out, all while Castiel silently watched him and rolled his eyes, Dean had turned in his notice at both jobs. A month later, he was enrolled for the next term at the local community college. It'd taken even longer to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off Castiel's face, but it sure as hell was fun in the doing.
Dean grimaces as he recalls another particularly nasty fight about six months ago. The money had started rolling in on the book Castiel had written in honor of Dean, and he'd asked Dean, once again, if he'd just accept the money without insisting on paying it back. Dean, frustrated that Castiel just would not let this go, had snapped.
"Cas, give it the fuck up, okay? Sam is my family, he's my responsibility, not yours!" Dean had thrown the book he was reading across the room in aggravation before sparing a glance at Castiel, and the look on Cas's face would haunt him for many months.
Eyes wide and glassy and face drained of all color, Castiel had whispered, "My mistake. I thought you and Sam were my family now."
That moment, more than any other, is what made Dean realize that Castiel sees him not just as a boyfriend or partner or whatthefuckever. For Castiel, Dean and Sam are the family he had always longed for but never thought he could have.
Dean spent many weeks after that doing what he could to make it up to Castiel, as well as trying his best to show him that he is their family. It took a while, but Castiel finally seemed to start to trust Dean again, and Dean swore to himself that he would do his damnedest to never fuck things up that badly again. With his own issues warring against him, it hasn't been easy for Dean to open up and let someone else into his close circle of family, but after everything that Castiel has done and continues to do for Dean and for his brother, he owes it to the man to give him his trust and his love as freely as he can.
But as they discovered just a couple months ago, turns out the money for Sam's college was a non-issue. He got word from Stanford that he was being offered a full scholarship, alongside his too-smart-for-her-own-good girlfriend, Jess. The celebratory dinner over Sam's news was the happiest moment of Dean's life, sitting between his nerdy gigantor brother and his nerdy hot-ass boyfriend. The night-long perma-grin on his face left his cheeks aching for days.
Dean braces his hands along one wall of the shower as he allows the beating water to massage his back. He can smell the tantalizing scent of cooking bacon wafting through the air vents, and wonders why Castiel is cooking bacon when he hates something so heavy early in the mornings. Fruit for breakfast is one thing that Dean has conceded on, mostly because he grudgingly admits that he does actually feel better when he eats something fresh instead of laden with grease and fat first thing in the morning. Doesn't mean he doesn't still miss an artery-clogging breakfast every now and then, which is why his stomach rumbles and his mouth waters at the smell of sizzling bacon.
As he rushes to shave his stubble so he can feast on food and Cas, he recalls how the past year and a half has definitely had more ups than downs, filled with many firsts for the both of them. He chuckles, hissing as he nicks his chin with the razor, thinking about their first vacation together. In retrospect, they both had been way too optimistic in their abilities to navigate public places and to allow a metal cylinder with wings to hurtle Dean through the air.
Between Castiel locking himself in the tiny airplane bathroom to get away from all the humanity, and Dean hyperventilating and vomiting everything he'd eaten in the previous six months, it's a wonder that the airline didn't banish them from flying with it indefinitely.
They opted to rent a car and drive back from the Grand Canyon instead of flying, and their trek home was much more relaxing and vomit-free, thank God.
Their second vacation had been pretty much heaven on wheels. The Impala's wheels, to be exact. Dean had finally relented, and allowed Bobby to help him restore the Impala to all her previous glory. What with finding and ordering the parts, and carving out the time here and there between paying work at the garage, it had taken several months to complete. But once she was finally done, Dean couldn't wait to take her out on the open road with Castiel sitting by his side.
It had been difficult to face the emotions wrapped up in what the Impala represented to Dean--a lost childhood, loss of their father long before his death, memories of a security and happiness it'd taken Dean almost twenty years to find again--but in the end, it was worth it. Dean will never forget the feeling of getting his baby out on the highway, windows rolled down and Zeppelin blaring from the tape deck, the rising sun behind them and nothing but a long stretch of asphalt before them. He had reached across the seat, slid his hand up Castiel's knee and along his thigh, and let it rest there: a promise for later. Castiel had laid his arm along the back of the seat, fingers tangling and playing distractedly with the hair along the nape of Dean's neck, as he stared out the passenger window, a ghost of a smile across his lips as they sped down countless miles of road.
They'd rented a cabin in the remotest part of the Rockies they could find, and whiled away the hours with Dean teaching Cas how to fish, as well as with hiking, skinny-dipping, and fucking so much and so enthusiastically that they both were sore for weeks.
Dean languidly strokes his dick, remembering one particularly scrumptious blowjob that Castiel had graced him with alongside a creek near their cabin. Cas had taken to walking around naked surprisingly fast. Dean had mused, "Hey Cas, do you believe in past lives? I bet you were a hippie in a past life, since you love walking around naked so much."
"I bet you were an asshole in a previous life, since you love being one so often," Cas had retorted. The wrestling match and sex after that particular insult made Dean grateful Cas has such a smartass sense of humor.
That vacation had done wonders for the both of them. It had given Castiel the opportunity to see that he could not only function in an uncontrolled environment without any routines or plans or schedules, but flourish. And for Dean… well, it showed him that not only did he deserve to find happiness and hold onto it, but that he already was happy, and every bit of the happiness he had, he deserved.
He'd struggled so hard for so long to keep his head above water, not knowing what he was holding on for or why he even bothered. But now he knows. He was holding on so that he could find his way here, into the arms of a sexy-as-fuck weirdo with stupid blue eyes and a heart bigger than the world around him.
Dean rinses the shaving cream off his face and turns the water off. Grabbing a towel, he steps carefully across the slick floor and into their bedroom, pausing when he notices a book lying on the bed that wasn't there when he'd stepped into the bathroom. The cover of the book shows a painting in dark colors of a hand bursting through the dirt of a freshly-made grave, and the title across the top reads Lazarus Rising.
There's a slip of paper bookmarking a page towards the beginning of the book, and when Dean opens to that page he finds the dedication.
For Dean, my favorite human. He gave me breath, repaired my wings, and taught me to fly.
Dean allows his fingers to trace a path along the words, whisper-soft. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying in vain to hold back the tears. If Sammy could see me now, he would so be laughing it up, he thinks. Leave it to Dean to fall in love with the one person in all of the world besides Sam who could make him cry with just a few simple words.
He places the book on his nightstand and shuffles his way out of the bedroom and down the hall. The smell of bacon and scrambled eggs lures him toward the kitchen, where he finds Zeppy watching attentively as Castiel, shirtless and wearing loose pajama bottoms that are barely hanging onto the smooth swell of his ass, stirs a bowl of pancake batter, head bobbing to the beat of a Zeppelin song playing on Dean's stereo in the den.
Castiel's back is turned towards Dean, giving Dean the perfect opportunity to sneak up behind him and wrap long arms around the man's waist. Cas stills when he feels Dean slide against him, leaning his head back against Dean's shoulder as Dean nuzzles behind his ear. Dean slides a hand up Castiel's chest, idly playing with a nipple, as the other hand wraps around his hip, fingers slipping just under the waistband of his pajamas and teasing at the trail of hair leading to his cock.
"What's with the fancy breakfast?" Dean teases, breath wet against the curve of Castiel's ear.
Castiel lets loose a shaky sigh. "It's our anniversary breakfast," he replies, voice hoarse.
Chuckling, Dean murmurs, "So we get anniversary dinner last night, anniversary breakfast this morning… what's next? Anniversary snacks? Anniversary cocktails?" He rubs his half-hard dick along the crease of Castiel's ass at the word 'cock,' garnering a soft laugh from Cas.
"I figure a week-long celebration is in order for the anniversary of when you finally stopped freaking the fuck out and moved in with me, yes," Castiel retorts, clever hand sneaking back and squeezing Dean's ass, pulling him closer.
"Ha-ha, you think you're so funny, dontcha?" Dean whispers, licking his way from Castiel's ear to the back of his neck, biting at the knob of the top of his spine. Castiel shudders against him, moaning as Dean's fingers dive further under his pajamas, wrapping loosely around the base of his shaft.
"I think I'm adorable," Castiel says, matter-of-factly.
Dean can't help a bark of laughter at that unexpected response, retrieving his hand and tugging Castiel around to face him. "Okay, I'll give you that. You really are fucking adorable," he grins, leaning forward to cover Castiel's mouth with his own.
Before the kiss can become too distracting, Dean pulls away, leaning his brow against Castiel's and staring at him. He'll never get over how much Castiel likes to just look at him, nor the intensity with which he does it. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't addicted to it, and didn't love to give as good as he gets.
Castiel's fingers slide through Dean's wet hair, massaging his scalp. They stand there, foreheads pressed together, exchanging breath and staring into each other's eyes for what feels like days before Dean whispers, "We're not just celebrating my moving in though, are we? I think we should celebrate your next Angel Warriors book finally getting printed."
Castiel blushes slightly and smiles. "You saw it?"
Dean leans forward to press a chaste kiss on Castiel's lips before answering. "I did. That cover is creepy and badass, man."
Nodding slightly, Castiel agrees. "I'm really pleased with how it turned out. Should be sufficient to make new readers curious enough to buy it, I hope."
Dean brings a hand up along Castiel's side, fingers tracing softly along the delicate, sensitive skin, eliciting goosebumps along the way. "I saw the dedication, too."
Castiel's eyes go wide, tongue peeking out of his mouth to wet his top lip nervously. "What did you think of it?"
With a quiet sigh, Dean leans forward, slotting his mouth against Castiel's, marveling, as always, at how the man never hesitates to open up to him, marveling at how this spot, this mouth, this body, this place, and this life are more of a home to him than he ever thought possible, than he ever thought he could be worthy enough to deserve.
"I think it's good that I'm your favorite human," he pulls back long enough to whisper against Castiel's lips, "because you're my favorite angel...with a badass right hook."
Castiel's huff of laughter is swallowed by Dean's kisses, and all intentions for an anniversary breakfast are forgotten for a while.
The End