Light Up the World as I Fall Asleep
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG/G
Word Count: ~2.6k
Category: Slash; Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel
Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, OMC, mentions of Jess and Sam minor appearances by others (including a kitten Crowley)
Genre: au - human, fluff, established relationship, domestic, kid!fic, holiday fic
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't make money from this, you know the drill.
Summary: Dean never thought he'd be the kind of guy to teach anyone, much less his own son, how to be a good person, but then, there are a lot of things he never thought he'd be until he met Cas.
also on ao3
A/N: Obligatory holiday fic :D
Friendly reminder that if anyone wants a winter/holiday fic written for them, I'm open to doing it. You can find more info in the notes on this post.
Feedback is always appreciated ^^
Light Up the World as I Fall Asleep
Their first winter together Dean made a point of explaining how, while he didn't mind celebrating Christmas, he was by no means religious and he would under no circumstances participate in decorating of trees, walls, tables and other surfaces with colour-coded tinsels and hanging winter-themed shapes (he would, however, wolf down any food prepared for the occasion). Their first year living together Dean was adamant about not wanting to live in a house, especially not one in the suburbs, with a yard and a white picket fence. Their first serious anniversary Dean announced he had no intentions of getting married. Their first seriously rocky period happened when Dean wouldn't budge on not wanting kids.
And now, 15 whole years after they met, here he is, hanging up Christmas lights on the front porch of his suburban house (the fence is pale green, thankfully, or Dean might've had to kill someone and paint it with their blood), a ring on his finger and a little boy holding his ladder steady. Things haven't quite gone according to Dean's plan.
That's not to say that he's not happy with how his life has turned out, quite the contrary, he couldn't be more pleased; it's just that Dean Winchester, the 38-year-old mechanic, home owner and family man is not what he'd expected himself to become.
He staples the last bit of the colourful lights to the corner of the roof and clambers down the small ladder with a grin. Their patio looks particularly nice this year, Dean would even dare call it the nicest in the neighbourhood (Sam, who lives not five houses down the street might disagree with him and Dean would probably concede defeat eventually, but only because Sam has a new baby who won't stop crying, so Dean is willing to lower his criteria on the account of Sam's lack of time). Adam latches on to his sleeve almost as soon as his feet are on steady ground.
“It's real pretty, Dad,” he says as Dean plugs the lights in and stands back to admire them.
Dean opens his mouth to reply, but forgets what he was going to say when he sees Cas's head poking out through the door, his hair as messy as always and his cheeks tinted pink from the warmth spreading through their house from the fireplace in the living room.
“Really,” he corrects sternly before letting a smile light up his entire face. Dean stands a little taller with pride. “Now come on in before you freeze to death, I made some hot chocolate,” Cas informs them, opening the door wider to let them inside. Adam skips off to the kitchen, but Dean takes his time strutting in front of Cas's nose. “It truly is quite appealing,” Cas comments before playfully swatting Dean on the ass as he passes.
“The lights or me?” Dean teases with a snort.
“What lights?” Cas plays dumb, leaning up for a kiss. Dean smiles against his lips.
The kitchen smells of chocolate and reheated gingerbread cookies, the radio on the countertop is playing Christmas evergreen tunes and from what little Dean can hear of the TV in the living room, the holiday programme is just as shit as it's always been - the same old cartoons and movie reruns they've been watching the last ten years. Adam is already sipping on his mug of hot chocolate and there's a gingerbread man who's missing a leg in his hand; predictably, Crowley, the black kitten Cas and Adam talked him into adopted after the conniving bastard snuck into their house and ate all their biscuits a few nights ago, is rubbing himself all over Adam's legs, purring and meowing. Dean could swear there's a self-satisfied smirk on his face even though Cas has already told him that animals don't have facial expressions.
“Are you sure you don't want to invite any of your friends to stay over tonight?” Cas asks Adam just as Dean is taking the first sip of his chocolate; he's pretty sure it's spiked with something from the way it burns down his throat with more than just heat.
“Um, yeah,” Adam replies, biting off the gingerbread man's head with a bit too much haste and cheer. A red light goes off inside Dean's head immediately and he looks over at Cas who meets his eyes readily with a serious stare, seemingly having the same reaction to their son's answer as Dean.
“Adam, you know you can tell us if anything's wrong, right?” Cas says, giving Adam that look that Dean hates getting, the one that makes a person feel like Cas is looking at their soul. “Anything at all?”
Adam, wisely, is not looking at Cas and just hums a vaguely affirmative noise, which Dean knows won't placate Cas, so he tries to get involved before things get too heated.
“Hey, buddy” he says, leaning over the table to get closer, “if someone's messing with you, you just gotta tell me. I'll beat them up for you.” He winks.
Cas shoots him one of his patented cautionary looks. “Dad is just kidding, of course,” he says, pointedly looking at Dean the whole time (Dean just shrugs because hey, it's not like he didn't actually mean it). Then he turns back to Adam. “Which doesn't mean you can get away with lying,” he warns.
Adam swallows his mouthful still looking at his own hands. He bends under the table and gives Crowley what's left of his cookie, petting his head before standing up again. He's biting his lip and he looks so guilty that Dean almost calls an end to the whole discussion. He briefly wonders how on Earth Cas ended up being the strict, rule-imposing, bad-cop parent of the two of them.
“Well, Garth's mom kind of... told him not to hang out with me anymore,” Adam finally admits, looking up to meet Cas's unmoving eyes. To his credit, Cas doesn't flinch or look away or even lose his strong posture, but Dean can see how his eyes go a little softer and his nose crinkles a bit and his shoulders slump imperceptibly. He knows what Adam will say next a second before the words leave his mouth just by looking at Cas and the way he seems almost like he can't decide between being sorry and being angry. “She saw us at the park and she said... well, that Garth has no business dealing with such freaks,” Adam says, clearly quoting Garth's mother towards the end.
It's times like these that Cas finds the hardest, Dean knows, because it's not the first time it's happened and it's not the first time Dean's watched Cas almost crumble in front of them, not the first time he's heard Cas doubt their decision to be parents. So he knows what he needs to do.
“What did you tell her?” he asks Adam, letting his fingers brush over Cas's knuckles under the table.
“That we're a happy family and that Garth should choose his own friends?” Adam replies, a question more than an answer, looking to Dean for confirmation.
“Good,” Dean smiles at him and ruffles his hair. Cas holds onto his hand under the table. It's the response they've taught him to give every time, somethings so gently chastising, it's almost neutral, enough to make the other person feel uncomfortable, but not enough to start a fight. Dean remembers the day they had to come up with it and teach Adam to use it, wishes it had never happened (he especially wishes Adam hasn't had to use it seven times since then that they know of, in three different schools).
“And then Meg threw mud at her,” Adam adds, almost as an after thought, grins at them both. Dean chuckles and Cas makes a sound Dean recognizes as a forced out laugh; Cas's hand, however, is not gripping Dean's as tightly anymore.
“Maybe you can invite Meg over instead?” Dean suggests, standing up. He downs the rest of his hot chocolate and watches Adam pick another cookie. To nobody's surprise, Crowley is back at their feet.
“She's grounded,” says Adam, looking mournful for all of five seconds before he buries his face in his mug.
“Well”, Cas begins, obviously forcing the words out. He clears his throat. “We will talk to Garth's mom, and in the meantime you two should just... stay friends if that's what you want.”
“Can I call him then? He's staying with his dad for the holidays!” Adam's whole face lights up at the idea and Dean can't help but smile at him. Cas steps closer to him and leans against his side; Dean snakes an arm around his waist and kisses his temple.
“Sure.”
Adam is sitting on the sofa in front of the TV with a phone in his hand before either of them speaks.
“Sometimes I wonder-“ Cas starts.
“Don't.” Dean pulls Cas in closer, holds him tighter. When he turns his head, Cas is looking at him with wide, honest eyes and there is really nothing Dean can do other than kiss him, slow and gentle, but lasting. Cas's hand is on his chest and until Dean can feels Cas's nails, until he can tell Cas is breathing faster, he doesn't stop kissing him. And even when he does, he keeps Cas close, their foreheads touching. “Did I ever tell you,” Dean says, with as close to a leer as he thinks is appropriate with their son nearby, “that parenting thing you do... Very sexy.”
Cas snorts and rolls his eyes at the same time, gives him this exasperated look, but he does steal another kiss before pulling away, bites at Dean's lip and runs his hand down Dean's chest all the way to dangerously low on his stomach. Dean watches as Cas goes to join Adam on the couch, his back relaxed once again, and the holiday mood settling back into his step.
Adam has fallen asleep long before midnight and Cas is drifting in and out of a nap on Dean's shoulder, so Dean's stuck watching Titanic (whoever decided that Titanic was a good movie to play on New Year's Eve needs to be shot, Dean decides) when his phone beeps twice, signalling a new text. It's an early happy New Year text signed with Sam, Jess, a very sick Ruby and a very cranky Kevin, the only thing that ensures Dean doesn't actually miss midnight. He keeps his phone in his hand to be able to check the time (although he only starts to after Jack dies, and the screen is a little blurry then, but Dean pretends he doesn't notice). He wakes Cas up when there's only five minutes left; Cas smiles at him sleepily and snuggles closer even though he doesn't go back to sleep, and Dean decides he can't be bothered to move.
The fireworks that go off at midnight make Adam stir, then suddenly sit up, wish them a happy New Year and then go back to sleep.
“Smart man,” Dean laughs.
“Well, he did learn from the best,” Cas replies, nudging Dean's cheek with his nose.
Dean laughs. “It's been a good year.”
Cas hums in his ear and kisses his neck in lieu of reply. “Come on, let's take him to bed.”
Adam's room is dark, the only light coming from the Christmas lights in the yard, but Dean doesn't need to see to put Adam to bed and tuck him in - they made that room together from scratch, Cas painted and Dean made the furniture and Sam helped them decorate so Dean knows this room like the back of his hand. Cas stands with him by the bed, puts a hand low on his back and leans his head on Dean's shoulder. In that moment Dean knows, whatever his plans had been, this is so much better.
“He's only five,” Cas says, like he doesn't really want to, but he can't stop himself. “I thought it wouldn't start until a lot later.”
“To be fair, it's not the kids that he has issues with,” Dean replies bitterly.
“Oh, don't even remind me, Mrs. What's-Her-Stupid-Face.”
Dean laughs quietly. “Why, Mr. Novak,” he teases.
“Don't give me that, you know I'd push her down the stairs if I thought it would solve the problem.”
“And here I thought I married a pacifist,” Dean says, turning around to face Cas. Cas's eyes shine in unearthly colours, reflecting the lights dancing rhythmically under the window.
“Not always easy to remember that when it's my son we're talking about,” Cas replies seriously and for a second there Dean sees why everyone fears crossing Cas, sees the cold anger and raw strength hidden underneath his amicable, genteel appearance. But then Cas looks over Dean's shoulder and all the anger dissipates from his face to be replaced with that peaceful half-smile that still makes Dean's stomach fluttery and his heart beat faster. “But then I think of the kind of person I want him to become, and, well.”
Dean blames it on the holidays and Titanic when he suddenly wants to tell Cas every single little thing they never say, the I love you woven into their sheets, the I need you in every touch, the you make me happy hidden behind every smile, the you're a good parent in Adam's every breath. He puts a hand on the side of Cas's face, waits till their eyes meet to say, “Cas, I don't tell you this often enough, but-“
Cas puts a finger on his lips, a playful smile brightening up his features. Dean can't help an answering grin spreading over his face.
“No chick-flick moments?” he ventures, echoing his own relationship condition from years ago (arguably the only one he's set and hasn't broken).
Cas hums, lets his finger trace Dean's lips before he holds Dean's chin and pulls him in for a kiss. “Think you're up for getting drunk with me tonight?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Dean has a feeling he'll regret it, but nods anyway, follows Cas to the kitchen happily and for just that one night they're a new couple again, young and without a care in the world, free.
Dean remembers little else of what actually happened that night; he knows there was alcohol, he knows there was some kitchen indecency, he knows he was happy. And then the next thing he knows is that he's being woken up by an elephant trudging over his brain (which actually turns out to be just Adam running down the stairs) and a medieval torture device made of needles (which is in fact just a very grumpy Crowley) crawling up his arm. Dean's head is throbbing and the sounds of general mayhem all around him seemingly magnified by a giant megaphone are not helping. The ringing in his ears, he's pretty sure, is from the doorbell, and then there's Sam annoying voice and Dean just can't deal with the world right now, so he pulls the covers over his head and shoves his face into Cas's chest (there really isn't enough room for two grown men to be sleeping on a sofa), his nose sliding between Cas's ribcage and arm where the only thing he knows is the warmth of Cas's skin and his familiar scent.
“We're getting too fucking old for this shit,” he mumbles, his lips tracing tickling shapes over the bare sensitive skin of Cas's underarm.
“Language,” Cas chastises with no real heat, snuggles closer, nosing at Dean's hair and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean licks a wet stripe up Cas's arm, delighting in the squirming and unhappy noises that it draws from Cas, then proceeds to promptly ignore the lecture Sam is trying to give him through the blanket.
Rating: PG/G
Word Count: ~2.6k
Category: Slash; Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel
Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, OMC, mentions of Jess and Sam minor appearances by others (including a kitten Crowley)
Genre: au - human, fluff, established relationship, domestic, kid!fic, holiday fic
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, don't make money from this, you know the drill.
Summary: Dean never thought he'd be the kind of guy to teach anyone, much less his own son, how to be a good person, but then, there are a lot of things he never thought he'd be until he met Cas.
also on ao3
A/N: Obligatory holiday fic :D
Friendly reminder that if anyone wants a winter/holiday fic written for them, I'm open to doing it. You can find more info in the notes on this post.
Feedback is always appreciated ^^
Light Up the World as I Fall Asleep
Their first winter together Dean made a point of explaining how, while he didn't mind celebrating Christmas, he was by no means religious and he would under no circumstances participate in decorating of trees, walls, tables and other surfaces with colour-coded tinsels and hanging winter-themed shapes (he would, however, wolf down any food prepared for the occasion). Their first year living together Dean was adamant about not wanting to live in a house, especially not one in the suburbs, with a yard and a white picket fence. Their first serious anniversary Dean announced he had no intentions of getting married. Their first seriously rocky period happened when Dean wouldn't budge on not wanting kids.
And now, 15 whole years after they met, here he is, hanging up Christmas lights on the front porch of his suburban house (the fence is pale green, thankfully, or Dean might've had to kill someone and paint it with their blood), a ring on his finger and a little boy holding his ladder steady. Things haven't quite gone according to Dean's plan.
That's not to say that he's not happy with how his life has turned out, quite the contrary, he couldn't be more pleased; it's just that Dean Winchester, the 38-year-old mechanic, home owner and family man is not what he'd expected himself to become.
He staples the last bit of the colourful lights to the corner of the roof and clambers down the small ladder with a grin. Their patio looks particularly nice this year, Dean would even dare call it the nicest in the neighbourhood (Sam, who lives not five houses down the street might disagree with him and Dean would probably concede defeat eventually, but only because Sam has a new baby who won't stop crying, so Dean is willing to lower his criteria on the account of Sam's lack of time). Adam latches on to his sleeve almost as soon as his feet are on steady ground.
“It's real pretty, Dad,” he says as Dean plugs the lights in and stands back to admire them.
Dean opens his mouth to reply, but forgets what he was going to say when he sees Cas's head poking out through the door, his hair as messy as always and his cheeks tinted pink from the warmth spreading through their house from the fireplace in the living room.
“Really,” he corrects sternly before letting a smile light up his entire face. Dean stands a little taller with pride. “Now come on in before you freeze to death, I made some hot chocolate,” Cas informs them, opening the door wider to let them inside. Adam skips off to the kitchen, but Dean takes his time strutting in front of Cas's nose. “It truly is quite appealing,” Cas comments before playfully swatting Dean on the ass as he passes.
“The lights or me?” Dean teases with a snort.
“What lights?” Cas plays dumb, leaning up for a kiss. Dean smiles against his lips.
The kitchen smells of chocolate and reheated gingerbread cookies, the radio on the countertop is playing Christmas evergreen tunes and from what little Dean can hear of the TV in the living room, the holiday programme is just as shit as it's always been - the same old cartoons and movie reruns they've been watching the last ten years. Adam is already sipping on his mug of hot chocolate and there's a gingerbread man who's missing a leg in his hand; predictably, Crowley, the black kitten Cas and Adam talked him into adopted after the conniving bastard snuck into their house and ate all their biscuits a few nights ago, is rubbing himself all over Adam's legs, purring and meowing. Dean could swear there's a self-satisfied smirk on his face even though Cas has already told him that animals don't have facial expressions.
“Are you sure you don't want to invite any of your friends to stay over tonight?” Cas asks Adam just as Dean is taking the first sip of his chocolate; he's pretty sure it's spiked with something from the way it burns down his throat with more than just heat.
“Um, yeah,” Adam replies, biting off the gingerbread man's head with a bit too much haste and cheer. A red light goes off inside Dean's head immediately and he looks over at Cas who meets his eyes readily with a serious stare, seemingly having the same reaction to their son's answer as Dean.
“Adam, you know you can tell us if anything's wrong, right?” Cas says, giving Adam that look that Dean hates getting, the one that makes a person feel like Cas is looking at their soul. “Anything at all?”
Adam, wisely, is not looking at Cas and just hums a vaguely affirmative noise, which Dean knows won't placate Cas, so he tries to get involved before things get too heated.
“Hey, buddy” he says, leaning over the table to get closer, “if someone's messing with you, you just gotta tell me. I'll beat them up for you.” He winks.
Cas shoots him one of his patented cautionary looks. “Dad is just kidding, of course,” he says, pointedly looking at Dean the whole time (Dean just shrugs because hey, it's not like he didn't actually mean it). Then he turns back to Adam. “Which doesn't mean you can get away with lying,” he warns.
Adam swallows his mouthful still looking at his own hands. He bends under the table and gives Crowley what's left of his cookie, petting his head before standing up again. He's biting his lip and he looks so guilty that Dean almost calls an end to the whole discussion. He briefly wonders how on Earth Cas ended up being the strict, rule-imposing, bad-cop parent of the two of them.
“Well, Garth's mom kind of... told him not to hang out with me anymore,” Adam finally admits, looking up to meet Cas's unmoving eyes. To his credit, Cas doesn't flinch or look away or even lose his strong posture, but Dean can see how his eyes go a little softer and his nose crinkles a bit and his shoulders slump imperceptibly. He knows what Adam will say next a second before the words leave his mouth just by looking at Cas and the way he seems almost like he can't decide between being sorry and being angry. “She saw us at the park and she said... well, that Garth has no business dealing with such freaks,” Adam says, clearly quoting Garth's mother towards the end.
It's times like these that Cas finds the hardest, Dean knows, because it's not the first time it's happened and it's not the first time Dean's watched Cas almost crumble in front of them, not the first time he's heard Cas doubt their decision to be parents. So he knows what he needs to do.
“What did you tell her?” he asks Adam, letting his fingers brush over Cas's knuckles under the table.
“That we're a happy family and that Garth should choose his own friends?” Adam replies, a question more than an answer, looking to Dean for confirmation.
“Good,” Dean smiles at him and ruffles his hair. Cas holds onto his hand under the table. It's the response they've taught him to give every time, somethings so gently chastising, it's almost neutral, enough to make the other person feel uncomfortable, but not enough to start a fight. Dean remembers the day they had to come up with it and teach Adam to use it, wishes it had never happened (he especially wishes Adam hasn't had to use it seven times since then that they know of, in three different schools).
“And then Meg threw mud at her,” Adam adds, almost as an after thought, grins at them both. Dean chuckles and Cas makes a sound Dean recognizes as a forced out laugh; Cas's hand, however, is not gripping Dean's as tightly anymore.
“Maybe you can invite Meg over instead?” Dean suggests, standing up. He downs the rest of his hot chocolate and watches Adam pick another cookie. To nobody's surprise, Crowley is back at their feet.
“She's grounded,” says Adam, looking mournful for all of five seconds before he buries his face in his mug.
“Well”, Cas begins, obviously forcing the words out. He clears his throat. “We will talk to Garth's mom, and in the meantime you two should just... stay friends if that's what you want.”
“Can I call him then? He's staying with his dad for the holidays!” Adam's whole face lights up at the idea and Dean can't help but smile at him. Cas steps closer to him and leans against his side; Dean snakes an arm around his waist and kisses his temple.
“Sure.”
Adam is sitting on the sofa in front of the TV with a phone in his hand before either of them speaks.
“Sometimes I wonder-“ Cas starts.
“Don't.” Dean pulls Cas in closer, holds him tighter. When he turns his head, Cas is looking at him with wide, honest eyes and there is really nothing Dean can do other than kiss him, slow and gentle, but lasting. Cas's hand is on his chest and until Dean can feels Cas's nails, until he can tell Cas is breathing faster, he doesn't stop kissing him. And even when he does, he keeps Cas close, their foreheads touching. “Did I ever tell you,” Dean says, with as close to a leer as he thinks is appropriate with their son nearby, “that parenting thing you do... Very sexy.”
Cas snorts and rolls his eyes at the same time, gives him this exasperated look, but he does steal another kiss before pulling away, bites at Dean's lip and runs his hand down Dean's chest all the way to dangerously low on his stomach. Dean watches as Cas goes to join Adam on the couch, his back relaxed once again, and the holiday mood settling back into his step.
Adam has fallen asleep long before midnight and Cas is drifting in and out of a nap on Dean's shoulder, so Dean's stuck watching Titanic (whoever decided that Titanic was a good movie to play on New Year's Eve needs to be shot, Dean decides) when his phone beeps twice, signalling a new text. It's an early happy New Year text signed with Sam, Jess, a very sick Ruby and a very cranky Kevin, the only thing that ensures Dean doesn't actually miss midnight. He keeps his phone in his hand to be able to check the time (although he only starts to after Jack dies, and the screen is a little blurry then, but Dean pretends he doesn't notice). He wakes Cas up when there's only five minutes left; Cas smiles at him sleepily and snuggles closer even though he doesn't go back to sleep, and Dean decides he can't be bothered to move.
The fireworks that go off at midnight make Adam stir, then suddenly sit up, wish them a happy New Year and then go back to sleep.
“Smart man,” Dean laughs.
“Well, he did learn from the best,” Cas replies, nudging Dean's cheek with his nose.
Dean laughs. “It's been a good year.”
Cas hums in his ear and kisses his neck in lieu of reply. “Come on, let's take him to bed.”
Adam's room is dark, the only light coming from the Christmas lights in the yard, but Dean doesn't need to see to put Adam to bed and tuck him in - they made that room together from scratch, Cas painted and Dean made the furniture and Sam helped them decorate so Dean knows this room like the back of his hand. Cas stands with him by the bed, puts a hand low on his back and leans his head on Dean's shoulder. In that moment Dean knows, whatever his plans had been, this is so much better.
“He's only five,” Cas says, like he doesn't really want to, but he can't stop himself. “I thought it wouldn't start until a lot later.”
“To be fair, it's not the kids that he has issues with,” Dean replies bitterly.
“Oh, don't even remind me, Mrs. What's-Her-Stupid-Face.”
Dean laughs quietly. “Why, Mr. Novak,” he teases.
“Don't give me that, you know I'd push her down the stairs if I thought it would solve the problem.”
“And here I thought I married a pacifist,” Dean says, turning around to face Cas. Cas's eyes shine in unearthly colours, reflecting the lights dancing rhythmically under the window.
“Not always easy to remember that when it's my son we're talking about,” Cas replies seriously and for a second there Dean sees why everyone fears crossing Cas, sees the cold anger and raw strength hidden underneath his amicable, genteel appearance. But then Cas looks over Dean's shoulder and all the anger dissipates from his face to be replaced with that peaceful half-smile that still makes Dean's stomach fluttery and his heart beat faster. “But then I think of the kind of person I want him to become, and, well.”
Dean blames it on the holidays and Titanic when he suddenly wants to tell Cas every single little thing they never say, the I love you woven into their sheets, the I need you in every touch, the you make me happy hidden behind every smile, the you're a good parent in Adam's every breath. He puts a hand on the side of Cas's face, waits till their eyes meet to say, “Cas, I don't tell you this often enough, but-“
Cas puts a finger on his lips, a playful smile brightening up his features. Dean can't help an answering grin spreading over his face.
“No chick-flick moments?” he ventures, echoing his own relationship condition from years ago (arguably the only one he's set and hasn't broken).
Cas hums, lets his finger trace Dean's lips before he holds Dean's chin and pulls him in for a kiss. “Think you're up for getting drunk with me tonight?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Dean has a feeling he'll regret it, but nods anyway, follows Cas to the kitchen happily and for just that one night they're a new couple again, young and without a care in the world, free.
Dean remembers little else of what actually happened that night; he knows there was alcohol, he knows there was some kitchen indecency, he knows he was happy. And then the next thing he knows is that he's being woken up by an elephant trudging over his brain (which actually turns out to be just Adam running down the stairs) and a medieval torture device made of needles (which is in fact just a very grumpy Crowley) crawling up his arm. Dean's head is throbbing and the sounds of general mayhem all around him seemingly magnified by a giant megaphone are not helping. The ringing in his ears, he's pretty sure, is from the doorbell, and then there's Sam annoying voice and Dean just can't deal with the world right now, so he pulls the covers over his head and shoves his face into Cas's chest (there really isn't enough room for two grown men to be sleeping on a sofa), his nose sliding between Cas's ribcage and arm where the only thing he knows is the warmth of Cas's skin and his familiar scent.
“We're getting too fucking old for this shit,” he mumbles, his lips tracing tickling shapes over the bare sensitive skin of Cas's underarm.
“Language,” Cas chastises with no real heat, snuggles closer, nosing at Dean's hair and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean licks a wet stripe up Cas's arm, delighting in the squirming and unhappy noises that it draws from Cas, then proceeds to promptly ignore the lecture Sam is trying to give him through the blanket.