FIC: Let Them Seek Peace, Part 2/2 (Complete)
Title: Let Them Seek Peace, 2/2
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Bobby
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 14,219
Summary: A fic in which Dean demands a post-apocalyptic vacation, Sam gets his hunt on, Bobby imparts some wisdom, and Castiel equates mortgages to demons.
Author's Notes: A HUGE thank you goes out to awesomepants87 for acting as beta :oD
Continued from Part 1
Sam returned two days later. He was in high spirits, and for that Dean was happy. He didn’t bring up leaving again for another day after his return, but after that he started rifling through Bobby’s books again Dean knew they’d be on the move soon. He didn’t mind too much, he had started to feel the need to hunt again, but he just hoped that after a while Sam would be willing to take another short break and rest for a bit.
It was late afternoon, and Dean and Castiel were washing the dishes from breakfast when Bobby came in from outside. Castiel paused as he held a plate under the running water, turned his head to watch Bobby wheel from the kitchen door to the hallway. Dean looked up as Castiel took a step away from the sink and called out to the other hunter.
“Yeah?” Bobby paused, back peddled so he could turn and look at Castiel.
“I have… something to ask you about,” Castiel said, and Dean raised an eyebrow at his hesitant tone.
“Spit it out, boy.”
Castiel’s eyes flickered to Dean a moment before settling on Bobby again.
“There’s a book in your living room that seems to have the wrong information about some Enochian sigils. I was wondering if you could tell me where you got it from.”
Bobby’s eyes widened with surprise. “Sigils?” He glanced at Dean, who shrugged, before fixing Castiel with another stare. After a moment the surprise seemed to diminish. “C’mon. Show me what you found. That is if Dean can spare you.”
Dean frowned, nodded at Castiel. “You have dish duty after dinner.”
Castiel nodded, followed Bobby into the living room.
It didn’t take long for Dean to finish up with the dishes. Castiel still hadn’t returned, so he started to lay out the pots they would use to make whatever dinner Castiel wanted to make for the evening. Castiel had insisted they buy the ingredients to make Fettuccini Alfredo, since he’d tried it and liked it a few weeks back.
Castiel seemed to enjoy making choices, even the smallest ones. Dean thought it might have had something to do with taking orders for his entire, millennia-long existence.
After about ten more minutes, Castiel still hadn’t returned. Dean put down the towel he was using to wipe up the water that had splashed onto the counter from the sink before heading towards the living room. It was getting late, and Dean never did well on an empty stomach.
“You think it will work?”
Dean slowed down when he heard Sam’s voice coming from the living room.
“I hope so, Sam.” Castiel sounded unsure, hesitant. “But I’m going to need help. I don’t exactly know how to go about this.”
Dean heard Bobby snort, but whatever he said was too low for Dean to hear. Dean turned the corner into Bobby’s living room, and paused. Castiel was sitting on the couch across from where Bobby had parked his wheelchair. Sam had obviously joined in the discussion because he stood behind Bobby, listening to Bobby talk. His arms were crossed, and Dean was struck at how much this looked like an interrogation of some sort. Castiel sat before them calmly, but there was a slight nervous, anxious tilt to his eyebrows, and Dean noticed that Castiel’s knuckles were white where his hands were gripping tight onto his knees. He nodded once, twice, and then broke his gaze off the two other men, gaze falling to the floor.
“Hey.” Dean started walking again, making his way into the room. Castiel’s eyes shot up as Bobby and Sam turned their heads towards Dean. “What’s going on?”
“There’s some extra lore on shapeshifters Cas said he might know about,” Sam said, nodding towards Castiel. Dean narrowed his eyes. Sam had that look on his face, the one where his eyebrows were slightly raised, his eyes just slightly wider, that look that told Dean that Sam wasn’t telling the complete truth.
“Cas?” Dean looked down and felt his heart lurch in his chest. Castiel was already looking up at him, but instead of looking guilty or blankly innocent, his gaze was open, and unsure. Like he wanted something, but was in completely over his head. “What’s going on?”
“Sam is correct,” Castiel said. But he paused, his eyes glancing at Sam and Bobby before falling back upon Dean. He swallowed. “I am more versed in supernatural creatures than you and Sam. Even Bobby.” He nodded towards the older hunter. “Bobby’s book was indeed mistaken. But Sam has just informed us of a case a few hours from here involving a shapeshifter. If we can find a certain kind of silver, a purer form than what you’ve used in the past, we can kill the next shapeshifter we come across rather quickly and with very little trouble.”
Dean shifted his stance, moving his weight to his back foot. Despite falling, Castiel had never really gotten the hang of lying. He tried, because it was necessary on a hunt. But Dean and Sam had resorted to taking the lead, letting Castiel linger in the background when they were questioning the authorities on a case. Because despite Castiel’s willingness to lie for the hunt, he still sucked at it. And, he’d admitted to Dean once when they were driving back from a relatively easy case that involved an old ghost in a granary, he didn’t particularly like lying. Something about deceiving God’s chosen ones.
And Castiel was lying now. Not completely, because Dean had no doubt that Castiel knew more about the evil that walked the earth than any number of hunters combined. But there was something else going on here, something not only Castiel was hiding, but Sam and Bobby as well.
“Okay, well, I’m pretty sure we can handle the evil sons of bitches without going all Van Helsing on their asses.” He glanced up at Bobby, then at Sam. “What’s going on? Really.”
Sam pulled his head back in surprise.
“Uh, hunting? Conversation? Just trying to figure out if Cas knows anything that can help in future hunts. He’s obviously a lot more useful than some of these books.” Sam paused and seemed to look at Dean, really look at him, for what seemed like the first time in weeks. “You alright, Dean?”
And Dean shook his head.
“Weirdos,” he replied. He reached down, gripped the front of Castiel’s shirt in a fist, and dragged Castiel up off the couch. “It’s getting late. We’re making dinner.”
As Castiel followed the directions to make alfredo sauce and Dean put handfuls of spaghetti into the pot of boiling water, Dean pressed his arm against Castiel’s side.
“What was all that in there, Cas?”
Castiel looked up from measuring the milk, eyes slightly wide. “All of what, Dean?”
Dean tipped his head in the direction of the living room. “Sam and Bobby. What were you guys talking about?”
Castiel sighed, looked back to the measuring cup in his hand. "Shapeshifters."
“You sure?” Castiel paused again, turned to look at Dean. He’d gone suddenly still, and Dean was reminded again of how he was still an angel, even though he was mostly, if not all, human by now. “You wouldn’t lie about that?”
“Why would I lie about it?”
Dean shook his head, turned back to the pot of boiling water and stirred the pasta. “No reason.”
Dean heard the measuring cup clank onto the counter a moment before he felt Castiel’s body press against his own.
“Dean.”
Dean turned his head at the sound of his name, almost jumped in surprise when Castiel pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Sam and Bobby are not keeping secrets from you. So stop worrying.”
Dean grunted, pressed forward when Castiel started to lean back. Castiel stopped moving, opened his lips when Dean deepened the next kiss.
“Just don’t go being all weird on me here, Cas,” Dean said after a moment.
Castiel made a small, pained sound in the back of his throat. His hand came up to cradle the back of Dean’s neck. “I won’t,” he said. “Trust me, Dean.”
Dean sighed, nodded, pressed his forehead to Castiel’s when Castiel leaned into him.
After a moment, Castiel shifted. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“The water’s going to boil over.”
Dean cursed, yanked himself away and fumbled with the oven’s knobs to turn down the burner. When he glanced over at Castiel, the ex-angel was smiling, pouring the milk into a large bowl.
“You boys better not be ruining dinner in there!” Bobby shouted from the living room.
Dean stirred the pasta as he shouted back some choice words that made Castiel pause in mixing the sauce and Sam laugh. And all was right with the world, again.
That night, Dean fell asleep with his chest pressed to Castiel’s back and his nose pressed into Castiel’s hair, breathing in the scent that was starting to become Castiel’s the more he settled into his humanity. It was a strange combination of denim, cotton, and mint, which was really weird, because as far as Dean knew none of them had any gum or breath mints. But Dean liked it. More than he wanted to admit.
He fell asleep quickly, something that seemed to happen easily with Castiel around. He didn’t dream, but when he woke up it was still dark. He squinted into the darkness, trying to figure out what had woken him, when he felt the bed dip and a moment later Castiel’s lips brushed against his throat as his body settled over Dean’s. Dean moaned, arching his neck back to allow Castiel better access.
“Good morning to you, too,” he mumbled. “Or… night.”
Castiel smiled against his shoulder. Dean sat up when Castiel started to tug at his shirt. A moment later they were both bare-chested, and Dean pulled Castiel down on top of him again.
“Why are you suddenly so awake?” Dean didn’t want to ask it, he never asked what the reasons were for anything Castiel started, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“I missed you,” Castiel said against his collarbone.
Dean chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining, but we’ve been asleep for, what? Two hours?”
Castiel moved up then, finally pressed his lips to Dean’s, and Dean sunk into the kiss, opened his mouth to Castiel’s. When Castiel pulled back, they were both breathing hard, and Castiel was shaking.
“Hey.” Dean dragged a hand up Castiel’s back. “You okay?”
Castiel nodded briefly before kissing a line down Dean’s chest.
“Dean.”
Dean sighed as Castiel’s lips fell to just above the waist band of his pants. A moment later, Castiel was tugging, and Dean shifted, letting Castiel slide the fabric down. Castiel took a moment to take care of his own shorts before sliding back on top of Dean.
“Dean.”
Dean moaned at the soft, insistent tone of Castiel’s voice.
“Are you happy here?”
Dean groaned, reached a hand behind him to grip the headboard as Castiel pressed an open mouthed kiss to his hip.
“It’s a little too late for talking, Cas.” He paused, let out a puff of air as Castiel’s tongue swept into the dip of his hip. “Fuck. Cas.”
And Castiel’s body was sliding up his, his chest pressing against Dean’s as he kissed Dean again, lips insistent and tongue brushing against the roof of Dean’s mouth before he pulled back, simply breathed onto Dean’s lips.
“Are you happy here?”
And Dean forced his eyes open, forced himself to focus on Castiel’s voice instead of the heat and press of Castiel’s body. Castiel’s eyes were hard upon Dean’s face, like what he’d just asked meant a lot more than Dean could comprehend at the moment.
“What?”
“Dean.” And with only his name, Castiel sounded tired and weary, and it almost seemed as though he was asking for something, though for what, Dean had no idea.
“Okay, Cas. What is it?” Dean dropped his hand from the headboard, brushed his hand up Castiel’s arm, over his shoulder, until he was threading his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Castiel closed his eyes, and his body seemed to sag into Dean’s. Dean wrapped his other arm around Castiel’s waist, traced Castiel’s spine with his fingertips, as Castiel’s forehead rested against his.
“Here,” Castiel whispered. “Are you happy here.”
It took Dean a moment to realize that he was being asked not just about the here and now, about being in bed with Castiel. But here. In Bobby’s house.
Dean tilted his face up, pressed his lips to Castiel’s.
“Sure,” he admitted. Because now was not the time for him to get all defensive and deny what had been bugging him the past few weeks. “I mean, who wouldn’t love it at Bobby’s.” He paused. His hand had stopped moving, and he took the moment to lay his palm flat against the small of Castiel’s back. “Free beer, free food, full junkyard full of car parts.”
Castiel huffed out a breath. Dean could feel his lips curving up into a smile against his own.
“That’s not what I meant, Dean.” He shifted again, pulled back just enough so he could look down and meet Dean’s eyes. “Do you like it here. In a… a house.” His brow creased for a moment, puzzled, before relaxing. “A home.” It looked like he was rolling the word around in his mouth, trying to get the taste of it.
Dean shrugged, broke Castiel’s gaze for a moment before glancing back.
“Yeah.” It was a simple, short answer. Because now that the Apocalypse was over, Sam was saved, Castiel was with him and not popping pills and shooting back booze, Dean allowed himself to think that maybe Bobby was right, that things might be okay afterwards, and it was nice to have someplace to crash after a hunt. Someplace safe and familiar.
Castiel paused only a moment before nodding, but the significance of Dean’s answer wasn’t lost on either of them. Dean didn’t admit to wanting a lot of things, not often. And when he did, it was often hidden by insults and bad attitude until he finally gave in and admitted it outright. Dean had put up little, if no, fight over this. And that said a lot.
“Okay.” The word was soft as it left Castiel’s lips. Dean refocused his attention back on Castiel, opened his mouth to say something when Castiel leaned down, pressed his lips to the underside of Dean’s jaw. Dean sighed when the kisses travelled downward, pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder.
“What is all this about anyway?” Dean forced out as he felt Castiel’s hand release his hip, come up to rest against his handprint on his shoulder. Dean groaned, closed his eyes as Castiel’s grip tightened. Back when Castiel still had his Grace, there had always been a slight pins and needles feeling that would travel down his arm, shoot through his body whenever Castiel touched the mark. Now, nothing happened when Castiel laid his hand upon the spot. His Grace had faded, was probably completely gone by now, but that didn’t stop the gesture from shooting heat down Dean’s body straight to his groin.
“Nothing,” Castiel said. “I was curious.”
“Yeah,” Dean gasped as Castiel shifted his leg up, pressed his knee against Dean’s thigh so he could settle between Dean’s legs. “Sure.” Dean felt the familiar press of Castiel against him and opened his legs wider, hooked them over Castiel’s hips. “You know,” he said after Castiel pulled back from another kiss. “I’m curious about something, too.”
Castiel paused, pulled back to look down at Dean again.
“About what?”
Dean smiled at the sincerity on Castiel’s face, his lips curved down into a slight frown.
“I’m wondering how long it’s going to take you to get this show on the road.” He slid his hand down, gripped Castiel’s ass with one hand and pulled him flush against him. Castiel gasped above him, a shiver coursing down his body. Dean smirked. “Finish what you started, angel boy.”
Castiel nodded as he leaned down, nipped at Dean’s chin.
“As you commanded it.”
“Dude, isn’t that blasphemy or something?” Dean’s words were cut off as Castiel worked his hand in between them, took Dean in hand.
“Don’t worry about it.” Castiel’s words brushed over Dean’s lips as Castiel’s hand started to pump, the fingers of his other hand going up to linger at Dean’s mouth. Dean opened his mouth, and Castiel moaned as Dean began sucking lightly on Castiel’s fingers. So Dean didn’t worry about it.
*****
The next day, Dean came in from helping Bobby fix up a ’80 Camaro to find Castiel and Sam leaning over Sam’s computer.
“What are you two geeks up to?”
Both of them looked up quickly from the screen. Sam looked almost normal, but Castiel’s eyes were wide, as if he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Town history,” Sam said. “Checking up on the history of Aberdeen, South Dakota incase it’ll help us with the next hunt.” He paused. “You still ready to leave in a few days?”
Dean shrugged, gaze flickering between the two of them as he walked forward. He stopped beside Castiel, leaned down to get a view of the computer screen. The screen was open to a site called “Aberdeen History: 1880-The Present.”
“Sure,” said Dean, leaning back. “I’m always ready.”
Dean expected things to get back to normal after that. They left for the hunt, took care of a poltergeist that had been hanging around Aberdeen for over fifty years, before moving onto the next town. They settled into the normal routine once again, and by the end of another month and a half they’d killed enough supernatural creatures to keep Dean satisfied for years.
The demons they encountered were usually weak and their numbers diminishing. After a while, it seemed like things had returned to the way they were before all Hell broke loose and angels were trying to jumpstart the Apocalypse. Project Post-Apocalyptic Clean-up seemed to be working. And Dean was glad of it.
The next time they found themselves at Bobby’s, it wasn’t Dean’s idea at all. They had just finished a hunt involving a nasty shtriga and hadn’t been able to pick up any leads for another case, so Sam had called Bobby to see if he’d heard of anything suspicious going on in the area.
“Yeah, okay.” Sam glanced over at Dean from the passenger seat. “We’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.” He closed his phone, shifted in his seat.
“What did Bobby say?”
Sam sighed. “There’s a case in Nebraska, but Bobby said it’s already being taken care of. He asked that if we didn’t mind he could use some help researching.”
“Bobby? Bobby needs our help with researching?”
Sam smirked. “His place is still a mess after the Apocalypse, Dean. It’s not that farfetched that he might need some help. And Cas can help fill in whatever information Bobby’s missing faster than Bobby can research probably.”
Dean heard Castiel shifting in the backseat before Castiel leaned forward, hooked an arm over the back of the front seat.
“It would be nice to rest for a bit. See Bobby again. We can cook.”
Dean smiled. “Okay, fine. To Bobby’s it is.”
Eight hours later they pulled up in front of Bobby’s house. Bobby lost no time in demanding Castiel’s help in the backroom that was piled high with books Dean never remembered seeing. Ever. Dean took one look at the room and backpedaled into the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked as he came up beside him.
“Uh.” Dean glanced into the room, saw Castiel watching him carefully. “Grocery store. Bobby’s all out of ham, and he could use some more beer.”
“You hate grocery shopping.”
“Yeah, but at least I can pick up some pie. Any requests?” And so he left with a small grocery list, and made his way back to Bobby’s a few hours later with more bags than the list had called for.
The next couple of days, Castiel, Sam, and Bobby locked themselves up in the backroom until Dean started to go a little stir-crazy. On the afternoon of the third day, Dean barged into the room, making a beeline for Castiel.
Bobby looked up, said, “Hold on a minute,” before Dean realized he was on the phone.
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”
Bobby shook his head. “Like that makes a difference now.”
“Uh, yeah. Just need to borrow Cas.”
“What for?” Castiel asked.
“You’re locked in here all day and I’m bored, that’s what for.”
“Ew, Dean,” Sam moaned. “Gross.”
“Get your head out of the gutter,” Dean snapped. He glanced at Sam, saw Sam tilt the computer screen away from him. “You’re online too much.” He turned back to Castiel, who was pushing back his chair from where he sat between Bobby and Sam. “It’s sunny outside, and even ex-angels need a little sunshine every once in a while.”
Castiel hesitated a moment before he looked to Bobby. It wasn’t until Bobby nodded that Castiel stood. He stepped around Dean and left the room. Dean watched him go.
“You came in here to get him, and now he’s gone and you’re here?” Bobby broke Dean’s stare from the now empty doorway. “Get out of here, you idjit.”
Dean pulled a face before turning and leaving.
Castiel was at Bobby’s front door when Dean caught up with him.
“Hey.” Dean put his hand on Castiel’s elbow, pulling him to a stop. “What was all that in there?”
Castiel sighed. “I think we already had this conversation.”
“No, really. You’re acting weird.” Dean threw up his hands. “You’re all acting weird.”
It was a moment before a small smile appeared on Castiel’s lips. “The Apocalypse has ended, Dean. Everyone’s just trying to figure out where they stand now.”
Dean continued to stare at Castiel.
“Sam was asking about some legends, I tried to answer them as best I could. Sam is… determined to continue hunting. Pick up where your father left off.” He narrowed his eyes at Dean, observing him for a reaction. “Where you left off.”
“Where I left off?”
Castiel took a step forward until he was inside Dean’s personal space. “There’s a hunt, two days from now. It’s an easy one. A ghost in North Dakota. Sam wants to go. He says if we don’t want to, he can get Bobby’s contact to back him up if he needs it.” Castiel paused for a moment. “Do you want to go, Dean?”
Dean didn’t answer right away. He was too busy staring at Castiel, processing the question. Castiel seemed to really be asking him if he wanted to go. It was the first time Dean could remember anyone doing that.
“Do you?” was what finally came out of Dean’s mouth.
Castiel smiled. “It is an easy case. I have confidence that Sam can take care of it satisfactorily by himself. I…” he paused again. His gaze flickered away a moment, focused back on Dean only after Dean shifted, closed a little more of the distance between them. “I have something I wish to continue researching. Something I wish to show you.”
Dean pulled back slightly. “What?”
Castiel shook his head. “I will know in a few days. Do you want to stay?”
“You’re being all cryptic and angelic on me, again, Cas. Not exactly a favorite of mine.”
A small laugh huffed out of Castiel. “I would like to stay, Dean. For a couple of more days.”
Dean nodded. “Okay. But… no more cryptic stuff. You’re freakin’ me out.” He shrugged. “Just a little.”
Castiel took a step away from Dean. “In a few more days, I promise I will stop with the cryptic, angelic attitude.”
Dean shook his head, but he was smiling. “You’re more trouble than your worth.”
Castiel’s head tilted to one side. “Only sometimes.” He turned away from Dean then, looked out at the junkyard. “Did you want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat. “Figured you could help me scope out a few new cars to fix, since you seem to be picking up on it pretty quick.”
Castiel’s smile grew a little more, and he followed Dean as the hunter started to walk through the junkyard.
*****
The next day, Dean was woken up by Castiel’s fingers brushing over his forehead.
“What?”
“I’m going out with Bobby and Sam,” Castiel whispered. “We’ll be back in an hour or so.”
Dean started to sit up. “Where…”
“Sam needs to pick up more salt for the hunt he’s leaving for tonight. Bobby said a new bookstore opened in town. I wanted to see what it contained.”
Dean chuckled, flopped back down on the mattress. “Knock yourself out, Cas.”
He was asleep before the bedroom door shut.
*****
Two days after Sam left on his hunt, Dean nudged Castiel’s elbow at the breakfast table.
“So it’s been a few days. You gonna tell me what you wanted to stick around here for?”
Castiel raised his gaze to Bobby across the table before settling it on Dean.
“Yes.”
When Dean’s silence didn’t lead Castiel into saying more, he raised an eyebrow. “So, tell me.”
Castiel shifted in his seat. He was nervous. “I’d rather show you.”
“Okay. Yeah. Where is this… thing you want to show me?”
“We need to go for a drive.”
“A drive?”
“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
Dean looked up at Bobby’s interruption.
“Just go, Dean. It’ll give me a chance to get rid of you two for a while.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Are you in on this Bobby?”
“In on what?” Bobby started wheeling away from the table towards the sink, breakfast plate in his lap. “Your crazy angel’s whims? I don’t think so.”
Dean shook his head before putting down his fork, pushing his chair away from the table.
“Okay, so when do you want to go on this drive?”
Castiel slid his eyes from Dean’s empty breakfast plate to Dean’s face. “Now, if that is satisfactory to you.”
“Yeah, it’s satisfactory.” He rolled his eyes and stood, took both his and Castiel’s plates and put them in the sink.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the car, driving north of Bobby’s.
“So,” Dean said into the silence. “Where are we going?”
“I cannot tell you.”
Dean paused. “And why is that, exactly?”
“Dean. I can no longer ‘zap’ you anywhere since my Grace has left me. If I could, I would have, regardless of your interrupted bowel movements. But since I cannot, and you have not yet taught me how to drive, I must ask you to keep your mouth shut, and drive where I tell you to.”
Dean remained quiet, too shocked to say anything in return. After a moment, Castiel explained. “It is a surprise.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Surprise?” He glanced at Castiel. “A good surprise?”
Castiel smiled. “You will see.” But he shifted in the passenger seat, and Dean could read him well by now. His nervousness from the breakfast table hadn’t left him.
So Dean kept his mouth shut, followed Castiel’s instruction on where to turn. When they started to hit an area with houses scattered more frequently, obviously a residential area, Dean glanced over at Castiel again.
“You sure this is where you want to go?”
Castiel nodded, but remained quiet except for his next “Turn right after the sycamore tree.”
After about twenty minutes, Castiel said, “There is a driveway two-thirds up this road. On the left. Turn onto it.”
Dean did.
“Park, Dean.”
Dean pulled the parking brake on, turned the engine off. After a moment, Castiel unclasped his seatbelt, opened the door, and got out. Dean followed suit, glancing at the house in front of him. It was a small colonial. It had had some work done to it at some time in the past, though, because a second floor had been added. It was gray, with red shutters, and a garage off to the right. The front yard was huge, and if the neighborhood was anything to go by, so was the backyard. The nearest neighbor was a block or two away, and woods crowded into the back of the house.
“What did you need to show me, Cas?” Dean stepped up beside Castiel where the ex-angel was waiting near the Impala’s hood. Castiel glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye before stepping away, walking up the front steps to the house. Dean paused a moment before following.
When they got to the front door, Dean expected Castiel to ring the doorbell, knock, anything but reach for the doorknob and turn it, pushing the door open.
“Cas?” Dean watched Castiel step inside the house, leave the door open. “Hey!” When Castiel didn’t stop, didn’t wait for Dean to follow, Dean glanced nervously around, looking for prying neighbors or the house’s owners to suddenly drive into the driveway, threatening them with calling the police. “Cas!” After a moment in which no neighbors and no owners appeared, Dean followed Castiel inside.
“Hey, Cas.” Dean looked around, searching for the angel. The entranceway was flanked by a living room to the right, a doorway to the hallway on the left. A stairway leading up stood in front of him. Dean heard Castiel’s voice from the left, and turned that way. The hallway lead to the kitchen, where Castiel stood in the center of the room, facing the doorway. Behind Castiel was a window that provided a view of the sideyard.
“Cas, you want to explain to me why we’re here? And how we’re here? I’m pretty sure people don’t leave their doors unlocked around here. And I’m definitely sure you lost your ability to unlock doors with a flick of your wrist.” He paused. “Right?”
Castiel nodded. “Yes, Dean. Do you like this house?”
Dean blinked at the change in subject before glancing around the kitchen. “Sure, yeah. Very nice. Can we get out of here?”
Castiel frowned, tipped his head down before looking up at Dean through his lashes.
“Dean.” And Dean paused at the insistence in Castiel’s tone. “Is this house… to your liking?”
Dean didn’t answer right away. He took another glance around the kitchen, noticed that it was bare except for the counters and the minimum appliances. He turned around, took a step back and looked out into the hallway. It was bare as well. No pictures, no mirrors, no shoes or jackets or front table holding possessions near the front door.
He stepped back into the kitchen, faced Castiel. He took a deep breath, because suddenly he found he’d been holding it.
“It’s nice. I haven’t really seen a lot of it yet. But…” he remembered the large front yard, the gray siding and red shutters. “Yeah, so far I like what I see.”
Castiel seemed to take in a breath then, and his gaze broke away from Dean. He seemed relieved.
“Cas?”
Castiel looked up at Dean’s voice. There was a small smile on his lips now. Dean watched as he moved, put his right hand into his pocket and brought out something small. He took three steps forward, held out his hand to Dean.
“Don’t lose it,” Castiel said. “There’s only one copy at the moment. I had the locks changed, as a precaution, and Bobby said it was a smart idea. But the locksmith Bobby knew only had one set of keys made.”
Dean stared at the brass key sitting dead center in Castiel’s palm.
“Cas, where’d you get that?”
“The locksmith, Dean.”
“No, I mean yes. But why?”
“Because it’s normal for humans to have a key to their house, isn’t it?”
Dean looked up then, away from the key, and stared at Castiel.
“What the-?”
Castiel’s lips twitched. Then he shrugged. It was the first time Dean had seen him do it, and it kind of made his head spin.
“I signed the papers the day before yesterday. Bobby co-signed, because I don’t seem to have all the proper documentation yet to sign off on buying a house.”
“You bought this?”
“We.” Castiel said. He shrugged again. “If…” He paused then, his eyes going slightly wide before his expression became neutral once again. “The keys are yours, Dean, regardless of whether or not you want me-”
Dean shut him up with a palm pressed to Castiel’s mouth.
“Hold on, lemme get this straight.” He met Castiel’s eyes, saw the hesitation in them. He took a step forward, slipped his hand to the back of Castiel’s head and rubbed his thumb against the back of his neck.
“You bought this house.”
“Yes.”
“Bobby helped you.”
“Yes.”
“And… and Sam?”
“Yes.”
Dean swallowed. “For us?”
Castiel nodded.
Dean stared at him for a moment before releasing him. “Holy fuck.”
“Dean…”
“This is crazy.” He shook his head. After a moment where he glanced around the kitchen in shock he said, “Can I go… look around or something?”
Castiel nodded again.
Dean started to turn around when he saw Castiel’s hand clenched tight into a fist around the key. Dean paused.
“Hey,” he said softly. Castiel looked up from where he was staring at the floor. Dean stepped forward then, pressed his lips against Castiel’s. Castiel sucked in a breath, and after a moment leaned into Dean. Dean felt the tension drain away from his body. “Keep that key safe until… until we can make a second set or something. I’ll just… lose it.”
Castiel nodded against Dean’s lips. Dean smiled, pulled away, and exited the kitchen.
He turned left first. At the end of the hallway was a tiny room, a room that was probably designed to be an office. Dean looked to the right as he entered and discovered he was correct. The backyard was freakin’ huge. There was a forest in the back, bordering the land and cutting off any chance for nosey neighbors. Dean smiled, exited the room and discovered the hallway looped around to open up into a large living room. It was bare, white-walled, and the sound of his shoes against wood floors echoed as he made his way to the front door again.
He took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top. To the right there was a room that was fairly good-sized. A bathroom was at the top of the stairs, and Dean smirked when he saw the large tub, the size of the shower. There were two more bedrooms on the top floor, the one all the way to the left taking up almost one side of the house. It was huge.
Dean laughed as he turned around to go back down the stairs. They had three bedrooms, a huge bath, and more rooms downstairs. One of the rooms upstairs could be converted into a weapons and supply room for hunting equipment. And the room downstairs could be a study of sorts. Castiel would need a place to store all his books, everything Dean knew the ex-angel would want to start collecting. He’d seen Castiel looking at Bobby’s collection, impressed, and he only hoped the living room didn’t get as messy as Bobby’s house. Not that he’d mind it that much, because whatever mess came about would be their mess.
But holy fuck, three bedrooms? As Dean went down the stairs again, he shook his head, felt a little dizzy, and more than just a little overwhelmed. Because honestly? The most Dean ever had to choose when considering sleeping quarters was which bed to pick, the one closest to the door or the one closest to the window. This, picking out an entire room, picking out which room meant what in the whole layout of the house, was something that was completely new. Completely foreign. And even those days when a hotel manager had asked him “first floor or second,” they never equaled this. Not in the least. Because he’d be spending more than just a few nights in whatever bedroom he picked. Or, hell, he could put the rooms on a rotating schedule. Monday through Wednesday in one room, Thursday to Sunday in the next. He could do whatever he wanted, because he had a whole house to do it in.
“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean passed the kitchen door, stopped suddenly before doing a double-take. Castiel was still standing where he’d left him infront of the stove. The stove with four gas burners that could cook actual food, and burnt pancakes and pasta and whatever else they wanted to cook.
Dean took a step back into the kitchen, really looking at it this time. There was a refrigerator, a stove, enough room for a small table in the center of the room. There was no microwave, no coffeepot, but they could fix that soon enough. The walls were yellow with white trim. Dean liked yellow.
“Are you serious, Cas?” Dean paused, stopping an arm’s length away from Castiel. “Did Sam put you up to this? Some stupid-ass joke?” He remembered the last prank war they’d had and how he’d pulled a few good ones over on Sam. He was still waiting for the payback.
Castiel’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” He paused. “Why would Sam-?”
Dean waved his hand, cutting Castiel off. “Never mind. Just…” He stopped. Really looked at Castiel. The confusion had gone, replaced by a tentative hope in Castiel’s eyes. “Why?” It was all he could get out.
Dean recognized the softening of Castiel’s face, the way his shoulders relaxed, as a mix of patience and affection. Castiel took a step closer, laid the fingers of his right hand lightly against Dean’s wrist.
“Bobby said that every hunter needs a home-base. Some place to return to.” He was so close Dean could feel the breath from his words ghosting over his lips. “Sam agreed.”
Dean nodded, thought he would open his mouth and say something. But nothing came out. He remembered Bobby’s words, and how Castiel had seemed to disappear for a few days, along with either Sam or Bobby. Researching and cleaning the spare room, Dean’s ass. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. They were right.”
Castiel nodded this time, his mouth evening out in a straight, contemplative line.
“Good.” Then, “Bobby helped make the down payment on the house. He said we better figure out finances soon, to figure out something called a mortgage.” He met Dean’s eyes, frowned slightly. “Bobby said mortgages were as annoying as demons, and a hell of a lot more dangerous, but I could not tell if he was exaggerating or not.”
And Dean was laughing. And it felt good. So goddamn good.
“Mortgages are the least of my worries at the moment,” Dean said, grabbing Castiel’s hand and leading him out of the kitchen and up the staircase to the second floor. “We have more important issues at hand.”
Castiel hurried after Dean, moving close enough that Dean could feel his heat along his back as they made it to the landing on the second floor. “What issues?”
“What bedroom should be the master suite.” He turned to look at Castiel, shot him a grin. “We have work to do."
'Verse continued in Some Assembly Required
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam, Bobby
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 14,219
Summary: A fic in which Dean demands a post-apocalyptic vacation, Sam gets his hunt on, Bobby imparts some wisdom, and Castiel equates mortgages to demons.
Author's Notes: A HUGE thank you goes out to awesomepants87 for acting as beta :oD
Continued from Part 1
Sam returned two days later. He was in high spirits, and for that Dean was happy. He didn’t bring up leaving again for another day after his return, but after that he started rifling through Bobby’s books again Dean knew they’d be on the move soon. He didn’t mind too much, he had started to feel the need to hunt again, but he just hoped that after a while Sam would be willing to take another short break and rest for a bit.
It was late afternoon, and Dean and Castiel were washing the dishes from breakfast when Bobby came in from outside. Castiel paused as he held a plate under the running water, turned his head to watch Bobby wheel from the kitchen door to the hallway. Dean looked up as Castiel took a step away from the sink and called out to the other hunter.
“Yeah?” Bobby paused, back peddled so he could turn and look at Castiel.
“I have… something to ask you about,” Castiel said, and Dean raised an eyebrow at his hesitant tone.
“Spit it out, boy.”
Castiel’s eyes flickered to Dean a moment before settling on Bobby again.
“There’s a book in your living room that seems to have the wrong information about some Enochian sigils. I was wondering if you could tell me where you got it from.”
Bobby’s eyes widened with surprise. “Sigils?” He glanced at Dean, who shrugged, before fixing Castiel with another stare. After a moment the surprise seemed to diminish. “C’mon. Show me what you found. That is if Dean can spare you.”
Dean frowned, nodded at Castiel. “You have dish duty after dinner.”
Castiel nodded, followed Bobby into the living room.
It didn’t take long for Dean to finish up with the dishes. Castiel still hadn’t returned, so he started to lay out the pots they would use to make whatever dinner Castiel wanted to make for the evening. Castiel had insisted they buy the ingredients to make Fettuccini Alfredo, since he’d tried it and liked it a few weeks back.
Castiel seemed to enjoy making choices, even the smallest ones. Dean thought it might have had something to do with taking orders for his entire, millennia-long existence.
After about ten more minutes, Castiel still hadn’t returned. Dean put down the towel he was using to wipe up the water that had splashed onto the counter from the sink before heading towards the living room. It was getting late, and Dean never did well on an empty stomach.
“You think it will work?”
Dean slowed down when he heard Sam’s voice coming from the living room.
“I hope so, Sam.” Castiel sounded unsure, hesitant. “But I’m going to need help. I don’t exactly know how to go about this.”
Dean heard Bobby snort, but whatever he said was too low for Dean to hear. Dean turned the corner into Bobby’s living room, and paused. Castiel was sitting on the couch across from where Bobby had parked his wheelchair. Sam had obviously joined in the discussion because he stood behind Bobby, listening to Bobby talk. His arms were crossed, and Dean was struck at how much this looked like an interrogation of some sort. Castiel sat before them calmly, but there was a slight nervous, anxious tilt to his eyebrows, and Dean noticed that Castiel’s knuckles were white where his hands were gripping tight onto his knees. He nodded once, twice, and then broke his gaze off the two other men, gaze falling to the floor.
“Hey.” Dean started walking again, making his way into the room. Castiel’s eyes shot up as Bobby and Sam turned their heads towards Dean. “What’s going on?”
“There’s some extra lore on shapeshifters Cas said he might know about,” Sam said, nodding towards Castiel. Dean narrowed his eyes. Sam had that look on his face, the one where his eyebrows were slightly raised, his eyes just slightly wider, that look that told Dean that Sam wasn’t telling the complete truth.
“Cas?” Dean looked down and felt his heart lurch in his chest. Castiel was already looking up at him, but instead of looking guilty or blankly innocent, his gaze was open, and unsure. Like he wanted something, but was in completely over his head. “What’s going on?”
“Sam is correct,” Castiel said. But he paused, his eyes glancing at Sam and Bobby before falling back upon Dean. He swallowed. “I am more versed in supernatural creatures than you and Sam. Even Bobby.” He nodded towards the older hunter. “Bobby’s book was indeed mistaken. But Sam has just informed us of a case a few hours from here involving a shapeshifter. If we can find a certain kind of silver, a purer form than what you’ve used in the past, we can kill the next shapeshifter we come across rather quickly and with very little trouble.”
Dean shifted his stance, moving his weight to his back foot. Despite falling, Castiel had never really gotten the hang of lying. He tried, because it was necessary on a hunt. But Dean and Sam had resorted to taking the lead, letting Castiel linger in the background when they were questioning the authorities on a case. Because despite Castiel’s willingness to lie for the hunt, he still sucked at it. And, he’d admitted to Dean once when they were driving back from a relatively easy case that involved an old ghost in a granary, he didn’t particularly like lying. Something about deceiving God’s chosen ones.
And Castiel was lying now. Not completely, because Dean had no doubt that Castiel knew more about the evil that walked the earth than any number of hunters combined. But there was something else going on here, something not only Castiel was hiding, but Sam and Bobby as well.
“Okay, well, I’m pretty sure we can handle the evil sons of bitches without going all Van Helsing on their asses.” He glanced up at Bobby, then at Sam. “What’s going on? Really.”
Sam pulled his head back in surprise.
“Uh, hunting? Conversation? Just trying to figure out if Cas knows anything that can help in future hunts. He’s obviously a lot more useful than some of these books.” Sam paused and seemed to look at Dean, really look at him, for what seemed like the first time in weeks. “You alright, Dean?”
And Dean shook his head.
“Weirdos,” he replied. He reached down, gripped the front of Castiel’s shirt in a fist, and dragged Castiel up off the couch. “It’s getting late. We’re making dinner.”
As Castiel followed the directions to make alfredo sauce and Dean put handfuls of spaghetti into the pot of boiling water, Dean pressed his arm against Castiel’s side.
“What was all that in there, Cas?”
Castiel looked up from measuring the milk, eyes slightly wide. “All of what, Dean?”
Dean tipped his head in the direction of the living room. “Sam and Bobby. What were you guys talking about?”
Castiel sighed, looked back to the measuring cup in his hand. "Shapeshifters."
“You sure?” Castiel paused again, turned to look at Dean. He’d gone suddenly still, and Dean was reminded again of how he was still an angel, even though he was mostly, if not all, human by now. “You wouldn’t lie about that?”
“Why would I lie about it?”
Dean shook his head, turned back to the pot of boiling water and stirred the pasta. “No reason.”
Dean heard the measuring cup clank onto the counter a moment before he felt Castiel’s body press against his own.
“Dean.”
Dean turned his head at the sound of his name, almost jumped in surprise when Castiel pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Sam and Bobby are not keeping secrets from you. So stop worrying.”
Dean grunted, pressed forward when Castiel started to lean back. Castiel stopped moving, opened his lips when Dean deepened the next kiss.
“Just don’t go being all weird on me here, Cas,” Dean said after a moment.
Castiel made a small, pained sound in the back of his throat. His hand came up to cradle the back of Dean’s neck. “I won’t,” he said. “Trust me, Dean.”
Dean sighed, nodded, pressed his forehead to Castiel’s when Castiel leaned into him.
After a moment, Castiel shifted. “Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“The water’s going to boil over.”
Dean cursed, yanked himself away and fumbled with the oven’s knobs to turn down the burner. When he glanced over at Castiel, the ex-angel was smiling, pouring the milk into a large bowl.
“You boys better not be ruining dinner in there!” Bobby shouted from the living room.
Dean stirred the pasta as he shouted back some choice words that made Castiel pause in mixing the sauce and Sam laugh. And all was right with the world, again.
That night, Dean fell asleep with his chest pressed to Castiel’s back and his nose pressed into Castiel’s hair, breathing in the scent that was starting to become Castiel’s the more he settled into his humanity. It was a strange combination of denim, cotton, and mint, which was really weird, because as far as Dean knew none of them had any gum or breath mints. But Dean liked it. More than he wanted to admit.
He fell asleep quickly, something that seemed to happen easily with Castiel around. He didn’t dream, but when he woke up it was still dark. He squinted into the darkness, trying to figure out what had woken him, when he felt the bed dip and a moment later Castiel’s lips brushed against his throat as his body settled over Dean’s. Dean moaned, arching his neck back to allow Castiel better access.
“Good morning to you, too,” he mumbled. “Or… night.”
Castiel smiled against his shoulder. Dean sat up when Castiel started to tug at his shirt. A moment later they were both bare-chested, and Dean pulled Castiel down on top of him again.
“Why are you suddenly so awake?” Dean didn’t want to ask it, he never asked what the reasons were for anything Castiel started, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“I missed you,” Castiel said against his collarbone.
Dean chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining, but we’ve been asleep for, what? Two hours?”
Castiel moved up then, finally pressed his lips to Dean’s, and Dean sunk into the kiss, opened his mouth to Castiel’s. When Castiel pulled back, they were both breathing hard, and Castiel was shaking.
“Hey.” Dean dragged a hand up Castiel’s back. “You okay?”
Castiel nodded briefly before kissing a line down Dean’s chest.
“Dean.”
Dean sighed as Castiel’s lips fell to just above the waist band of his pants. A moment later, Castiel was tugging, and Dean shifted, letting Castiel slide the fabric down. Castiel took a moment to take care of his own shorts before sliding back on top of Dean.
“Dean.”
Dean moaned at the soft, insistent tone of Castiel’s voice.
“Are you happy here?”
Dean groaned, reached a hand behind him to grip the headboard as Castiel pressed an open mouthed kiss to his hip.
“It’s a little too late for talking, Cas.” He paused, let out a puff of air as Castiel’s tongue swept into the dip of his hip. “Fuck. Cas.”
And Castiel’s body was sliding up his, his chest pressing against Dean’s as he kissed Dean again, lips insistent and tongue brushing against the roof of Dean’s mouth before he pulled back, simply breathed onto Dean’s lips.
“Are you happy here?”
And Dean forced his eyes open, forced himself to focus on Castiel’s voice instead of the heat and press of Castiel’s body. Castiel’s eyes were hard upon Dean’s face, like what he’d just asked meant a lot more than Dean could comprehend at the moment.
“What?”
“Dean.” And with only his name, Castiel sounded tired and weary, and it almost seemed as though he was asking for something, though for what, Dean had no idea.
“Okay, Cas. What is it?” Dean dropped his hand from the headboard, brushed his hand up Castiel’s arm, over his shoulder, until he was threading his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Castiel closed his eyes, and his body seemed to sag into Dean’s. Dean wrapped his other arm around Castiel’s waist, traced Castiel’s spine with his fingertips, as Castiel’s forehead rested against his.
“Here,” Castiel whispered. “Are you happy here.”
It took Dean a moment to realize that he was being asked not just about the here and now, about being in bed with Castiel. But here. In Bobby’s house.
Dean tilted his face up, pressed his lips to Castiel’s.
“Sure,” he admitted. Because now was not the time for him to get all defensive and deny what had been bugging him the past few weeks. “I mean, who wouldn’t love it at Bobby’s.” He paused. His hand had stopped moving, and he took the moment to lay his palm flat against the small of Castiel’s back. “Free beer, free food, full junkyard full of car parts.”
Castiel huffed out a breath. Dean could feel his lips curving up into a smile against his own.
“That’s not what I meant, Dean.” He shifted again, pulled back just enough so he could look down and meet Dean’s eyes. “Do you like it here. In a… a house.” His brow creased for a moment, puzzled, before relaxing. “A home.” It looked like he was rolling the word around in his mouth, trying to get the taste of it.
Dean shrugged, broke Castiel’s gaze for a moment before glancing back.
“Yeah.” It was a simple, short answer. Because now that the Apocalypse was over, Sam was saved, Castiel was with him and not popping pills and shooting back booze, Dean allowed himself to think that maybe Bobby was right, that things might be okay afterwards, and it was nice to have someplace to crash after a hunt. Someplace safe and familiar.
Castiel paused only a moment before nodding, but the significance of Dean’s answer wasn’t lost on either of them. Dean didn’t admit to wanting a lot of things, not often. And when he did, it was often hidden by insults and bad attitude until he finally gave in and admitted it outright. Dean had put up little, if no, fight over this. And that said a lot.
“Okay.” The word was soft as it left Castiel’s lips. Dean refocused his attention back on Castiel, opened his mouth to say something when Castiel leaned down, pressed his lips to the underside of Dean’s jaw. Dean sighed when the kisses travelled downward, pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder.
“What is all this about anyway?” Dean forced out as he felt Castiel’s hand release his hip, come up to rest against his handprint on his shoulder. Dean groaned, closed his eyes as Castiel’s grip tightened. Back when Castiel still had his Grace, there had always been a slight pins and needles feeling that would travel down his arm, shoot through his body whenever Castiel touched the mark. Now, nothing happened when Castiel laid his hand upon the spot. His Grace had faded, was probably completely gone by now, but that didn’t stop the gesture from shooting heat down Dean’s body straight to his groin.
“Nothing,” Castiel said. “I was curious.”
“Yeah,” Dean gasped as Castiel shifted his leg up, pressed his knee against Dean’s thigh so he could settle between Dean’s legs. “Sure.” Dean felt the familiar press of Castiel against him and opened his legs wider, hooked them over Castiel’s hips. “You know,” he said after Castiel pulled back from another kiss. “I’m curious about something, too.”
Castiel paused, pulled back to look down at Dean again.
“About what?”
Dean smiled at the sincerity on Castiel’s face, his lips curved down into a slight frown.
“I’m wondering how long it’s going to take you to get this show on the road.” He slid his hand down, gripped Castiel’s ass with one hand and pulled him flush against him. Castiel gasped above him, a shiver coursing down his body. Dean smirked. “Finish what you started, angel boy.”
Castiel nodded as he leaned down, nipped at Dean’s chin.
“As you commanded it.”
“Dude, isn’t that blasphemy or something?” Dean’s words were cut off as Castiel worked his hand in between them, took Dean in hand.
“Don’t worry about it.” Castiel’s words brushed over Dean’s lips as Castiel’s hand started to pump, the fingers of his other hand going up to linger at Dean’s mouth. Dean opened his mouth, and Castiel moaned as Dean began sucking lightly on Castiel’s fingers. So Dean didn’t worry about it.
*****
The next day, Dean came in from helping Bobby fix up a ’80 Camaro to find Castiel and Sam leaning over Sam’s computer.
“What are you two geeks up to?”
Both of them looked up quickly from the screen. Sam looked almost normal, but Castiel’s eyes were wide, as if he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Town history,” Sam said. “Checking up on the history of Aberdeen, South Dakota incase it’ll help us with the next hunt.” He paused. “You still ready to leave in a few days?”
Dean shrugged, gaze flickering between the two of them as he walked forward. He stopped beside Castiel, leaned down to get a view of the computer screen. The screen was open to a site called “Aberdeen History: 1880-The Present.”
“Sure,” said Dean, leaning back. “I’m always ready.”
Dean expected things to get back to normal after that. They left for the hunt, took care of a poltergeist that had been hanging around Aberdeen for over fifty years, before moving onto the next town. They settled into the normal routine once again, and by the end of another month and a half they’d killed enough supernatural creatures to keep Dean satisfied for years.
The demons they encountered were usually weak and their numbers diminishing. After a while, it seemed like things had returned to the way they were before all Hell broke loose and angels were trying to jumpstart the Apocalypse. Project Post-Apocalyptic Clean-up seemed to be working. And Dean was glad of it.
The next time they found themselves at Bobby’s, it wasn’t Dean’s idea at all. They had just finished a hunt involving a nasty shtriga and hadn’t been able to pick up any leads for another case, so Sam had called Bobby to see if he’d heard of anything suspicious going on in the area.
“Yeah, okay.” Sam glanced over at Dean from the passenger seat. “We’ll see you in a bit, Bobby.” He closed his phone, shifted in his seat.
“What did Bobby say?”
Sam sighed. “There’s a case in Nebraska, but Bobby said it’s already being taken care of. He asked that if we didn’t mind he could use some help researching.”
“Bobby? Bobby needs our help with researching?”
Sam smirked. “His place is still a mess after the Apocalypse, Dean. It’s not that farfetched that he might need some help. And Cas can help fill in whatever information Bobby’s missing faster than Bobby can research probably.”
Dean heard Castiel shifting in the backseat before Castiel leaned forward, hooked an arm over the back of the front seat.
“It would be nice to rest for a bit. See Bobby again. We can cook.”
Dean smiled. “Okay, fine. To Bobby’s it is.”
Eight hours later they pulled up in front of Bobby’s house. Bobby lost no time in demanding Castiel’s help in the backroom that was piled high with books Dean never remembered seeing. Ever. Dean took one look at the room and backpedaled into the hallway.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked as he came up beside him.
“Uh.” Dean glanced into the room, saw Castiel watching him carefully. “Grocery store. Bobby’s all out of ham, and he could use some more beer.”
“You hate grocery shopping.”
“Yeah, but at least I can pick up some pie. Any requests?” And so he left with a small grocery list, and made his way back to Bobby’s a few hours later with more bags than the list had called for.
The next couple of days, Castiel, Sam, and Bobby locked themselves up in the backroom until Dean started to go a little stir-crazy. On the afternoon of the third day, Dean barged into the room, making a beeline for Castiel.
Bobby looked up, said, “Hold on a minute,” before Dean realized he was on the phone.
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry.”
Bobby shook his head. “Like that makes a difference now.”
“Uh, yeah. Just need to borrow Cas.”
“What for?” Castiel asked.
“You’re locked in here all day and I’m bored, that’s what for.”
“Ew, Dean,” Sam moaned. “Gross.”
“Get your head out of the gutter,” Dean snapped. He glanced at Sam, saw Sam tilt the computer screen away from him. “You’re online too much.” He turned back to Castiel, who was pushing back his chair from where he sat between Bobby and Sam. “It’s sunny outside, and even ex-angels need a little sunshine every once in a while.”
Castiel hesitated a moment before he looked to Bobby. It wasn’t until Bobby nodded that Castiel stood. He stepped around Dean and left the room. Dean watched him go.
“You came in here to get him, and now he’s gone and you’re here?” Bobby broke Dean’s stare from the now empty doorway. “Get out of here, you idjit.”
Dean pulled a face before turning and leaving.
Castiel was at Bobby’s front door when Dean caught up with him.
“Hey.” Dean put his hand on Castiel’s elbow, pulling him to a stop. “What was all that in there?”
Castiel sighed. “I think we already had this conversation.”
“No, really. You’re acting weird.” Dean threw up his hands. “You’re all acting weird.”
It was a moment before a small smile appeared on Castiel’s lips. “The Apocalypse has ended, Dean. Everyone’s just trying to figure out where they stand now.”
Dean continued to stare at Castiel.
“Sam was asking about some legends, I tried to answer them as best I could. Sam is… determined to continue hunting. Pick up where your father left off.” He narrowed his eyes at Dean, observing him for a reaction. “Where you left off.”
“Where I left off?”
Castiel took a step forward until he was inside Dean’s personal space. “There’s a hunt, two days from now. It’s an easy one. A ghost in North Dakota. Sam wants to go. He says if we don’t want to, he can get Bobby’s contact to back him up if he needs it.” Castiel paused for a moment. “Do you want to go, Dean?”
Dean didn’t answer right away. He was too busy staring at Castiel, processing the question. Castiel seemed to really be asking him if he wanted to go. It was the first time Dean could remember anyone doing that.
“Do you?” was what finally came out of Dean’s mouth.
Castiel smiled. “It is an easy case. I have confidence that Sam can take care of it satisfactorily by himself. I…” he paused again. His gaze flickered away a moment, focused back on Dean only after Dean shifted, closed a little more of the distance between them. “I have something I wish to continue researching. Something I wish to show you.”
Dean pulled back slightly. “What?”
Castiel shook his head. “I will know in a few days. Do you want to stay?”
“You’re being all cryptic and angelic on me, again, Cas. Not exactly a favorite of mine.”
A small laugh huffed out of Castiel. “I would like to stay, Dean. For a couple of more days.”
Dean nodded. “Okay. But… no more cryptic stuff. You’re freakin’ me out.” He shrugged. “Just a little.”
Castiel took a step away from Dean. “In a few more days, I promise I will stop with the cryptic, angelic attitude.”
Dean shook his head, but he was smiling. “You’re more trouble than your worth.”
Castiel’s head tilted to one side. “Only sometimes.” He turned away from Dean then, looked out at the junkyard. “Did you want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat. “Figured you could help me scope out a few new cars to fix, since you seem to be picking up on it pretty quick.”
Castiel’s smile grew a little more, and he followed Dean as the hunter started to walk through the junkyard.
*****
The next day, Dean was woken up by Castiel’s fingers brushing over his forehead.
“What?”
“I’m going out with Bobby and Sam,” Castiel whispered. “We’ll be back in an hour or so.”
Dean started to sit up. “Where…”
“Sam needs to pick up more salt for the hunt he’s leaving for tonight. Bobby said a new bookstore opened in town. I wanted to see what it contained.”
Dean chuckled, flopped back down on the mattress. “Knock yourself out, Cas.”
He was asleep before the bedroom door shut.
*****
Two days after Sam left on his hunt, Dean nudged Castiel’s elbow at the breakfast table.
“So it’s been a few days. You gonna tell me what you wanted to stick around here for?”
Castiel raised his gaze to Bobby across the table before settling it on Dean.
“Yes.”
When Dean’s silence didn’t lead Castiel into saying more, he raised an eyebrow. “So, tell me.”
Castiel shifted in his seat. He was nervous. “I’d rather show you.”
“Okay. Yeah. Where is this… thing you want to show me?”
“We need to go for a drive.”
“A drive?”
“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
Dean looked up at Bobby’s interruption.
“Just go, Dean. It’ll give me a chance to get rid of you two for a while.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Are you in on this Bobby?”
“In on what?” Bobby started wheeling away from the table towards the sink, breakfast plate in his lap. “Your crazy angel’s whims? I don’t think so.”
Dean shook his head before putting down his fork, pushing his chair away from the table.
“Okay, so when do you want to go on this drive?”
Castiel slid his eyes from Dean’s empty breakfast plate to Dean’s face. “Now, if that is satisfactory to you.”
“Yeah, it’s satisfactory.” He rolled his eyes and stood, took both his and Castiel’s plates and put them in the sink.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the car, driving north of Bobby’s.
“So,” Dean said into the silence. “Where are we going?”
“I cannot tell you.”
Dean paused. “And why is that, exactly?”
“Dean. I can no longer ‘zap’ you anywhere since my Grace has left me. If I could, I would have, regardless of your interrupted bowel movements. But since I cannot, and you have not yet taught me how to drive, I must ask you to keep your mouth shut, and drive where I tell you to.”
Dean remained quiet, too shocked to say anything in return. After a moment, Castiel explained. “It is a surprise.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Surprise?” He glanced at Castiel. “A good surprise?”
Castiel smiled. “You will see.” But he shifted in the passenger seat, and Dean could read him well by now. His nervousness from the breakfast table hadn’t left him.
So Dean kept his mouth shut, followed Castiel’s instruction on where to turn. When they started to hit an area with houses scattered more frequently, obviously a residential area, Dean glanced over at Castiel again.
“You sure this is where you want to go?”
Castiel nodded, but remained quiet except for his next “Turn right after the sycamore tree.”
After about twenty minutes, Castiel said, “There is a driveway two-thirds up this road. On the left. Turn onto it.”
Dean did.
“Park, Dean.”
Dean pulled the parking brake on, turned the engine off. After a moment, Castiel unclasped his seatbelt, opened the door, and got out. Dean followed suit, glancing at the house in front of him. It was a small colonial. It had had some work done to it at some time in the past, though, because a second floor had been added. It was gray, with red shutters, and a garage off to the right. The front yard was huge, and if the neighborhood was anything to go by, so was the backyard. The nearest neighbor was a block or two away, and woods crowded into the back of the house.
“What did you need to show me, Cas?” Dean stepped up beside Castiel where the ex-angel was waiting near the Impala’s hood. Castiel glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye before stepping away, walking up the front steps to the house. Dean paused a moment before following.
When they got to the front door, Dean expected Castiel to ring the doorbell, knock, anything but reach for the doorknob and turn it, pushing the door open.
“Cas?” Dean watched Castiel step inside the house, leave the door open. “Hey!” When Castiel didn’t stop, didn’t wait for Dean to follow, Dean glanced nervously around, looking for prying neighbors or the house’s owners to suddenly drive into the driveway, threatening them with calling the police. “Cas!” After a moment in which no neighbors and no owners appeared, Dean followed Castiel inside.
“Hey, Cas.” Dean looked around, searching for the angel. The entranceway was flanked by a living room to the right, a doorway to the hallway on the left. A stairway leading up stood in front of him. Dean heard Castiel’s voice from the left, and turned that way. The hallway lead to the kitchen, where Castiel stood in the center of the room, facing the doorway. Behind Castiel was a window that provided a view of the sideyard.
“Cas, you want to explain to me why we’re here? And how we’re here? I’m pretty sure people don’t leave their doors unlocked around here. And I’m definitely sure you lost your ability to unlock doors with a flick of your wrist.” He paused. “Right?”
Castiel nodded. “Yes, Dean. Do you like this house?”
Dean blinked at the change in subject before glancing around the kitchen. “Sure, yeah. Very nice. Can we get out of here?”
Castiel frowned, tipped his head down before looking up at Dean through his lashes.
“Dean.” And Dean paused at the insistence in Castiel’s tone. “Is this house… to your liking?”
Dean didn’t answer right away. He took another glance around the kitchen, noticed that it was bare except for the counters and the minimum appliances. He turned around, took a step back and looked out into the hallway. It was bare as well. No pictures, no mirrors, no shoes or jackets or front table holding possessions near the front door.
He stepped back into the kitchen, faced Castiel. He took a deep breath, because suddenly he found he’d been holding it.
“It’s nice. I haven’t really seen a lot of it yet. But…” he remembered the large front yard, the gray siding and red shutters. “Yeah, so far I like what I see.”
Castiel seemed to take in a breath then, and his gaze broke away from Dean. He seemed relieved.
“Cas?”
Castiel looked up at Dean’s voice. There was a small smile on his lips now. Dean watched as he moved, put his right hand into his pocket and brought out something small. He took three steps forward, held out his hand to Dean.
“Don’t lose it,” Castiel said. “There’s only one copy at the moment. I had the locks changed, as a precaution, and Bobby said it was a smart idea. But the locksmith Bobby knew only had one set of keys made.”
Dean stared at the brass key sitting dead center in Castiel’s palm.
“Cas, where’d you get that?”
“The locksmith, Dean.”
“No, I mean yes. But why?”
“Because it’s normal for humans to have a key to their house, isn’t it?”
Dean looked up then, away from the key, and stared at Castiel.
“What the-?”
Castiel’s lips twitched. Then he shrugged. It was the first time Dean had seen him do it, and it kind of made his head spin.
“I signed the papers the day before yesterday. Bobby co-signed, because I don’t seem to have all the proper documentation yet to sign off on buying a house.”
“You bought this?”
“We.” Castiel said. He shrugged again. “If…” He paused then, his eyes going slightly wide before his expression became neutral once again. “The keys are yours, Dean, regardless of whether or not you want me-”
Dean shut him up with a palm pressed to Castiel’s mouth.
“Hold on, lemme get this straight.” He met Castiel’s eyes, saw the hesitation in them. He took a step forward, slipped his hand to the back of Castiel’s head and rubbed his thumb against the back of his neck.
“You bought this house.”
“Yes.”
“Bobby helped you.”
“Yes.”
“And… and Sam?”
“Yes.”
Dean swallowed. “For us?”
Castiel nodded.
Dean stared at him for a moment before releasing him. “Holy fuck.”
“Dean…”
“This is crazy.” He shook his head. After a moment where he glanced around the kitchen in shock he said, “Can I go… look around or something?”
Castiel nodded again.
Dean started to turn around when he saw Castiel’s hand clenched tight into a fist around the key. Dean paused.
“Hey,” he said softly. Castiel looked up from where he was staring at the floor. Dean stepped forward then, pressed his lips against Castiel’s. Castiel sucked in a breath, and after a moment leaned into Dean. Dean felt the tension drain away from his body. “Keep that key safe until… until we can make a second set or something. I’ll just… lose it.”
Castiel nodded against Dean’s lips. Dean smiled, pulled away, and exited the kitchen.
He turned left first. At the end of the hallway was a tiny room, a room that was probably designed to be an office. Dean looked to the right as he entered and discovered he was correct. The backyard was freakin’ huge. There was a forest in the back, bordering the land and cutting off any chance for nosey neighbors. Dean smiled, exited the room and discovered the hallway looped around to open up into a large living room. It was bare, white-walled, and the sound of his shoes against wood floors echoed as he made his way to the front door again.
He took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top. To the right there was a room that was fairly good-sized. A bathroom was at the top of the stairs, and Dean smirked when he saw the large tub, the size of the shower. There were two more bedrooms on the top floor, the one all the way to the left taking up almost one side of the house. It was huge.
Dean laughed as he turned around to go back down the stairs. They had three bedrooms, a huge bath, and more rooms downstairs. One of the rooms upstairs could be converted into a weapons and supply room for hunting equipment. And the room downstairs could be a study of sorts. Castiel would need a place to store all his books, everything Dean knew the ex-angel would want to start collecting. He’d seen Castiel looking at Bobby’s collection, impressed, and he only hoped the living room didn’t get as messy as Bobby’s house. Not that he’d mind it that much, because whatever mess came about would be their mess.
But holy fuck, three bedrooms? As Dean went down the stairs again, he shook his head, felt a little dizzy, and more than just a little overwhelmed. Because honestly? The most Dean ever had to choose when considering sleeping quarters was which bed to pick, the one closest to the door or the one closest to the window. This, picking out an entire room, picking out which room meant what in the whole layout of the house, was something that was completely new. Completely foreign. And even those days when a hotel manager had asked him “first floor or second,” they never equaled this. Not in the least. Because he’d be spending more than just a few nights in whatever bedroom he picked. Or, hell, he could put the rooms on a rotating schedule. Monday through Wednesday in one room, Thursday to Sunday in the next. He could do whatever he wanted, because he had a whole house to do it in.
“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean passed the kitchen door, stopped suddenly before doing a double-take. Castiel was still standing where he’d left him infront of the stove. The stove with four gas burners that could cook actual food, and burnt pancakes and pasta and whatever else they wanted to cook.
Dean took a step back into the kitchen, really looking at it this time. There was a refrigerator, a stove, enough room for a small table in the center of the room. There was no microwave, no coffeepot, but they could fix that soon enough. The walls were yellow with white trim. Dean liked yellow.
“Are you serious, Cas?” Dean paused, stopping an arm’s length away from Castiel. “Did Sam put you up to this? Some stupid-ass joke?” He remembered the last prank war they’d had and how he’d pulled a few good ones over on Sam. He was still waiting for the payback.
Castiel’s brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” He paused. “Why would Sam-?”
Dean waved his hand, cutting Castiel off. “Never mind. Just…” He stopped. Really looked at Castiel. The confusion had gone, replaced by a tentative hope in Castiel’s eyes. “Why?” It was all he could get out.
Dean recognized the softening of Castiel’s face, the way his shoulders relaxed, as a mix of patience and affection. Castiel took a step closer, laid the fingers of his right hand lightly against Dean’s wrist.
“Bobby said that every hunter needs a home-base. Some place to return to.” He was so close Dean could feel the breath from his words ghosting over his lips. “Sam agreed.”
Dean nodded, thought he would open his mouth and say something. But nothing came out. He remembered Bobby’s words, and how Castiel had seemed to disappear for a few days, along with either Sam or Bobby. Researching and cleaning the spare room, Dean’s ass. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. They were right.”
Castiel nodded this time, his mouth evening out in a straight, contemplative line.
“Good.” Then, “Bobby helped make the down payment on the house. He said we better figure out finances soon, to figure out something called a mortgage.” He met Dean’s eyes, frowned slightly. “Bobby said mortgages were as annoying as demons, and a hell of a lot more dangerous, but I could not tell if he was exaggerating or not.”
And Dean was laughing. And it felt good. So goddamn good.
“Mortgages are the least of my worries at the moment,” Dean said, grabbing Castiel’s hand and leading him out of the kitchen and up the staircase to the second floor. “We have more important issues at hand.”
Castiel hurried after Dean, moving close enough that Dean could feel his heat along his back as they made it to the landing on the second floor. “What issues?”
“What bedroom should be the master suite.” He turned to look at Castiel, shot him a grin. “We have work to do."
'Verse continued in Some Assembly Required