FIC: Some Assembly Required
So I decided to continue on with this 'verse. What can I say, except it's too fun imagining Dean and Castiel living semi-domestically after Hell on Earth. :oP
Title: Some Assembly Required
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Paring: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 6,017
Summary: Dean and Castiel go mattress shopping. Takes place a couple of weeks after Let Them Seek Peace
Author's Notes: HUGE thanks to awesomepants87 for acting as beta. As her name suggests, she is awesome ;o)
Some Assembly Required
Dean woke to the feel of Castiel’s face pressed against his back. Castiel’s breath was a steady stream on Dean’s skin, and as Dean stretched his legs, his foot rubbed against the one Castiel had positioned firmly between Dean’s feet. The weight of Castiel’s body kept him warm against the cool morning air, and Dean wondered if it would be worth it to move, or if he’d rather lay here all day with Castiel curled around him.
So far, the fallen angel was winning.
Dean started to drift off again. And before he knew it, not only was Castiel straddling his hips, his hand sliding beneath Dean’s boxers, but there was pie, and whipped cream, and Dean remembered this dream. He liked this dream. Just as he was getting to the part where Castiel slowly licked the whipped cream from his fingers, his eyes locked on Dean's, a steady knocking overlay the quiet moan Castiel usually made at this point. That knocking was not part of the dream. Dean groaned and shut his eyes tighter as the dream faded. He turned his face into his pillow and tried to ignore the sound, telling himself it was probably just the house settling.
Because apparently houses settled. Tiny creaking noises and knocks in the night. It was strange to be stationary long enough in one place that he recognized sounds like that. Stranger still was the night when he stopped hearing those sounds, when they became part of the background noise that was as commonplace to him as breathing.
But this sound, now, was definitely not the house settling. It was a banging. Dean moaned, waited for the sound to go away, but the banging became louder, more insistent. Dean could swear he heard his name being called.
Castiel grunted behind him, pressed his face harder into Dean’s back. Dean held back a groan as Castiel stretched, his body lengthening out behind him before Castiel sighed and curled back around Dean, one leg moving to cover both of Dean’s as his arm came up and draped over Dean’s waist.
“Are you going to get that?”
Dean grunted. “What?”
“The door. It seems as if Sam has arrived early.”
“Sam?” Dean was having trouble waking up this morning. But he thought he couldn’t really be blamed, with feeling so warm and Castiel clinging so tight around him. The guy didn’t exactly make it easy to get up and leave bed in the morning.
“Your brother,” Castiel said, his hand flattening against Dean’s stomach. “Sam Winchester. He’s here. Early. At our front door.” His lips pressed a soft kiss against Dean’s back.
“The bastard’s early,” Dean grumbled, arching his back against Castiel, pressing closer. “He can wait.”
“Dean.” Castiel was firm that time, and Dean felt the arm retreating from around his waist before Castiel’s hand pressed against the small of his back, gave a tiny push. “Go.”
Dean groaned, rolling away from Castiel’s warmth. “Pushy,” he mumbled. Getting up was made even more unpleasant by the twinge in his neck as he sat up. “Fuck.” He brought a hand to his neck, rubbed for a moment before settling it on Castiel’s hip. Castiel made a small sound and leaned into Dean’s touch.
“You sure you want me to go answer that, Cas?” His grip tightened on Castiel’s hip, and Castiel made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. Dean looked down and saw Castiel burying his head into Dean’s pillow. It was bright, without blinds or curtains on the windows, and Dean wasn’t surprised Castiel was trying to burrow into whatever was available, whether it was his body or some other object. Dean shook his head, stood up. He took a moment to stretch, crane his neck. Muscles strained, ached, and he frowned.
“You know, we really need to get a mattress, Cas.” It had been a little over two weeks since they’d moved in. And while they’d spent four days of those two weeks on a hunt, the rest of the time had been spent trying to get the house in order. Sam had taken some time off hunting and helped out, claiming one of the room upstairs as his own for when he needed a place to crash between hunts and felt like giving Bobby a break. Bobby had been out to visit almost every day during the first week, offering advice on how to get the house in working order. Dean and Castiel didn’t have a lot of belongings, and so moving hadn’t really been an issue. All Dean had done when he and Castiel had pulled up in front of the house, ready to settle in and stay for good, was grab his duffle and Castiel’s from the back seat of the Impala, walk through the front door, and toss them onto the floor before turning to Castiel and declaring themselves moved in.
Cleaning, however, had been another story. The house was not dirty by any means, but there was more than a fair share of dusting. Castiel had wanted to paint as well, which was weird, considering Dean didn’t know where the fallen angel had learned to appreciate paint color. But considering the endless wall of colors they’d found at the hardware store, Dean thought it was another one of those choices Castiel liked making just for the heck of it. They’d spent over two hours in the hardware store, Castiel’s eyes skimming row upon row of colors, before he’d managed to narrow the selections down to a handful of those color palette cards. He had yet to make the decision as to the final colors, even with Dean helping him.
Wards had been set up around the house, their weapons had been organized and moved into the room beside their bedroom, and the room they’d designated as the study was equipped with the few books Castiel had already acquired and a desk Bobby had said he didn’t need anymore. They’d even managed to get a coffeepot and a secondhand microwave that still worked well.
Furniture had been another story entirely. Dean had been used to living in less than comfortable conditions, even before the Apocalypse, and Castiel had become used to the same conditions rather quickly when he’d fallen far enough that comfort was an issue. So sitting on the living room or kitchen floor to eat or relax wasn’t so bad. They had two chairs Bobby had given them that they moved around the house when they wanted to sit somewhere else other than the floor. Other than that, it was just a matter of getting a kitchen table and a couch they could kick back and relax in.
And a bed. They needed a bed. As much as it hadn’t really bothered Dean or Castiel at first to sleep on the ground on top of scattered sleeping bags and blankets, it was getting a little old. And a little sore. One of the reasons Castiel had bought this house for them was that they’d have some place familiar and comfortable to return to after the hunt. Not having a bed was kind of defeating half the purpose.
And yeah, it would be nice to be able to fuck without worrying whether one of them was going to be sore from the hardwood floors the next morning.
“Mmm…” Castiel mumbled something into the pillow, but Dean couldn’t quite catch the words. “Bed…”
“Yeah yeah.” Dean bent down, picked up his pants from the floor and slipped into them. Castiel had hung up a bunch of his shirts, despite Dean insisting that everything he had could be shoved in a duffle or in a dresser (when they got one), and so Dean stumbled over to the closet and pulled out a shirt, tugged it over his head. “Get up, Cas.” He pulled another shirt out of the closet, this time one of Castiel’s. “I don’t think Sam’ll appreciate seeing your naked ass walking around. Come on.”
Castiel grumbled as Dean dropped the shirt beside Castiel.
Sam’s knocking didn’t stop until Dean pulled open the door, settled himself against the doorframe.
“Give me one good reason why you’re here this early and I shouldn’t shoot your Sasquatch ass.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me.” Sam smiled. “It would get blood all over your floor.” He shifted the brown bag he held in his arms, and Dean narrowed his eyes. “And I brought pie.”
That was a good enough reason for Dean. He stepped out of the doorway and led the way through the house.
“So you gonna stick around for a few days this time?” Dean asked as Sam followed him into the kitchen. Dean headed straight for the coffee pot, grabbed the pot off the burner and turned the faucet on before glancing at Sam, eyebrows raised in question. Sam nodded, and Dean filled the coffee pot for two. Castiel still didn’t like the taste of coffee.
“Yeah.” The crinkling of the paper bag broke over Sam’s words as he unloaded what he’d brought onto the countertop. “A few at least. There’s a case down south, but some hunters from that area are taking care of it. I’ll look around while I’m here, see if there’s a case nearby. Until I find one, I could stay here for a bit.”
Dean nodded, turned the faucet off and finished setting up the coffee pot. “If you need any help, Cas and I are free. We could probably use a hunt soon.”
Sam scoffed. “Yeah, like you two don’t have your fair share of busy work around here.” Dean turned in time to see Sam glance towards the kitchen door. “Where is Cas, anyway?”
Dean smirked. “Bed. Not such a morning person. You weren’t supposed to get here this early, dude.”
Sam threw him an incredulous look. “Dean. It’s noon.”
There was silence for a moment. “It’s Saturday. We sleep in on Saturdays.”
“It’s Wednesday.”
Dean rolled his eyes, pushed off the counter to inspect what Sam had brought. “Details.”
No matter how early, or not early, Sam had decided to come around, he certainly knew how to make up for it. He had not only brought pie, but pancakes and French toast as well. And sides of bacon and sausage. Dean started reaching for the plate of pancakes when Sam’s hand slapped down on his shoulder and gripped tight as he tugged him backwards towards the hallway.
“Son of a… Sam!”
“Before you dig in, help me with this.”
“With what?” Dean planted his feet against the tile floor, halting his movement as he knocked Sam’s hand away.
“Bobby finally managed to get that table unburied from all his books. It’s in the back of the truck he lent me.” Sam glanced over his shoulder as he stepped into the hallway and headed for the front door. “Do you want this table, or would you rather continue to eat sitting on the floor?”
Dean grumbled as he took a step forward and followed Sam out to the driveway.
*****
By the time Castiel staggered downstairs, Dean and Sam had dragged the table inside, set it up dead center in the kitchen, cleaned it, and set out the food.
Castiel stopped in the doorway, his hand frozen where it had been combing through his hair, still mussed from sleep.
“Dean?”
Dean smirked at his confused expression. “Look what Sammy brought as a consolation prize for waking us up so early.”
Sam made a small, incredulous noise, but otherwise remained silent.
Castiel nodded after another moment of staring. “Thank you, Sam. Is this from Bobby?”
“The table, yeah. I brought the food over. Figured you might want a break from Dean trying to battle with the stove again.”
“Hey, I’m improving.” Dean pointed the forks he’d taken out of the silverware drawer at Sam. “Besides, I never said I was a cook.”
“Understatement.”
“You wanna eat this food, or are you just asking to get thrown out.”
Castiel ignored Dean and Sam as they continued their usual brotherly banter, choosing instead to search for a glass in the cabinet over the sink. He stopped at the refrigerator, pulled out the milk, before going over to the table, placing the milk carton and glass down.
“There are only two chairs,” he said, cutting Dean off mid-sentence.
Dean turned to look at Castiel, blinked. Castiel waited, kept his eyes calmly locked on Dean’s.
“Huh.”
Castiel tried not to smile.
“I don’t need one,” Sam said, grabbing a plate of pancakes from the table and leaning against the kitchen counter, his coffee perched next to him.
Castiel frowned. “Aren’t guests supposed to have first preference?”
“Bobby tell you that?” Dean pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. “Besides, Sam’s not a guest.”
“It’s fine, Cas,” Sam said after Castiel continued to stand. “I’ve been driving for a while. It feels good to stand.”
Castiel paused for a moment before nodding, pulling out the remaining chair and sitting opposite of Dean.
Dean and Castiel ate in relative silence, listening as Sam told them about the latest hunts he’d been on. When talk of the hunt started to turn to talk of the victims, and how things were shaping up with the other hunters, Dean’s eating slowed. Castiel looked up at him from behind the glass of milk he was drinking. Dean’s hand tightened around his fork as he asked if Sam had encountered any problems.
Sam shook his head, shrugged, and made a frown that even Castiel knew was hiding something. “No,” he said. “Just the regular bumps and bruises.”
Dean frowned, but nodded anyway. He lifted a forkful of pancakes to his mouth, but his shoulders were tense. Castiel placed his glass down, picked up his fork and began eating his French toast again as he slid his foot under the table closer to Dean’s. He stopped when his shin pressed against Dean’s calf. Dean visibly relaxed.
“So, did you two finally pick out paint colors?” Sam asked, glancing between them. “Is my room gonna be pink or something when I go up there?”
Dean’s frown deepened. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” He shook his head. “No. Cas here still can’t make up his mind.”
Castiel shrugged. “There are lots of choices.”
“Yeah, well those choices are scattered all over the living room floor.”
Sam smiled.
“We are almost done choosing.” Castiel placed his fork down on his empty plate and leaned back in his chair.
“Great. Maybe by the time I get back from the next hunt, you two will have this place finished.”
“Maybe,” Castiel said, but he had a thoughtful expression on his face, one that made Dean pause in bringing the last of his pancakes up to his mouth.
“Once you get colors picked out, it’s time to get some furniture.” Sam twisted and placed his empty coffee mug in the sink. “At least you guys have the basics down. Table, chairs, bed.”
There was silence.
“You guys do have a bed, don’t you?”
Dean shrugged.
“Jesus Christ, Dean. You’ve been here how long, and you still haven’t gotten a bed? You said that was your first priority.” He looked slightly uncomfortable saying it, but the dig at Dean made up for it.
And yeah, getting a bed had been one of Dean’s top priorities. Before they’d even settled into the house for good, Dean and Castiel had kinda claimed which room was theirs. It had seemed that the natural step to go from there would have been to go out, buy the biggest bed they could find, and not leave the house for a month.
But Dean hadn’t realized a house came with responsibilities other than fucking your partner as often, and as loud, as you could in your own place. Responsibilities like lighting, electricity, gas, appliances, water, heat. It was hard, getting everything set up, and the hunt they’d been on not too long after they’d moved in hadn’t really allowed them a ton of time to settle into the house and make a trip to Sleepy’s.
“It got away from us,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel for reassurance. Castiel simply stared back. “Okay, so we had other things to think about.”
“I don’t want to know what those other things are,” Sam said hastily, holding up his hands as he pushed off the counter. “Just…” he paused, his eyes falling to Castiel where the angel sat silently watching Dean. “You know what? Why don’t you guys just go? I need to run into town and pick up some supplies for the next hunt, and I can drop you off at the mattress store. Pick you up when you’re done. I can sleep on sleeping bags when I come, but really, Dean?”
“What?” Dean held up his hands, trying for incredulity. “We were getting to it.”
“Well, get to it. I’m surprised Cas hasn’t kicked your ass for this already.” He gave Dean another look. “I’m surprised you haven’t kicked your ass for this.”
Dean frowned. “Yeah, well I’m about to kick yours.”
“Just go.”
*****
Two hours later, Dean found himself standing beside Castiel in the middle of a store full of mattresses. Castiel was answering the questions the woman helping them kept asking. Dean was otherwise preoccupied. He’d never seen so many mattresses in his life.
“No,” Castiel was saying. “We don’t have a bed frame.”
“Okay, well, we have a wide range to select from.”
Even turned away from her, Dean could hear her shock.
“What are you two looking for? Queens?”
“King,” Dean said, snapping back into the conversation.
The woman looked surprised for a moment before she continued, “We don’t have the kings on display-it’s kind of a small store-but you can try out the different mattresses we have here and we can ship you your choice in the king size. If you’re lucky, we might have the king-size mattress in the warehouse and you could take it home tonight.”
“Awesome.” He turned to Castiel. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”
“What about the… frame?”
Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand and tugged him away from the store employee. “Fun now,” he said. “Business later.”
After twenty minutes of browsing the different mattresses, Dean figured that sticking with the employee might have been a better option. It had never occurred to him that so many different mattresses existed. To him, there had only ever been too hard or too soft. But it seemed as if mattresses could be made out of different materials, at different thicknesses, with different levels of hardness and softness. It was almost overwhelming.
But they managed to get the hang of it. Dean insisted pretty early on that anything hard was out of the question. He’d slept on the floors of too many abandoned buildings to want to pay for anything that closely resembled that experience. Judging from Castiel’s quick nod he completely agreed. Dean didn’t mind so much the mattress that was marketed as “one of the softest on the market,” but judging by Castiel’s frown when he laid down and the way he kept shifting his body, as if he couldn’t quite get comfortable, Castiel wasn’t one for the super-soft mattresses. So they’d stuck to the middle range, and pretty soon they’d narrowed it down to three choices.
“So, you have any preference?” Dean asked as he stared down at a bed that apparently folded up and down. He found the idea fascinating.
He was still trying to figure out the mechanics of the folding bed, and what they could use it for, when he noticed Castiel still hadn’t spoken. Dean broke his gaze from the mattress and looked up. Castiel was staring at the mattress as well, but Dean could recognize the glazed look in his eyes that told Dean that Cas really wasn’t seeing what was in front of him. After a moment Castiel’s eyes narrowed, his head tilted. Then he turned on his heel and started walking to the opposite side of the store.
“Cas?” Dean followed quickly, but by the time he caught up with him Castiel was already standing near one of the beds in the far corner of the store, staring down at the mattress. Dean watched for a moment. Then Castiel turned around, sat down, and shuffled back onto the bed. He lay down, his hands settling at his sides, and closed his eyes.
Dean glanced at the register, checking to make sure no one was going to come over, before turning around, walking to the side of the bed and lying down next to Castiel.
“So,” he said, staring at the ceiling. “This your choice?”
“Yes, Dean.”
Dean shifted on the bed, working his shoulders down into the mattress. It was a soft mattress, but firm with just a little give. He took a breath and felt himself sink comfortably into it. He liked it. He could imagine waking up in a bed like this, crashing down onto it at night, pressing Castiel into it.
Neither of them moved for some time. It was still strange, still weird to think that they had this, that they could be here shopping for something as simple as a mattress. That his life had boiled down to lazy afternoons spent sorting through paint colors on a living room floor and days spent in stores picking out mattresses. It hadn’t even been a year since the Apocalypse ended, and yet here he was with Castiel, lying on a mattress in the middle of a store for anyone shopping or passing by to see. It was overwhelming, sometimes, to think about all that he’d gained, and all that he suddenly stood to lose.
Dean sighed, let his eyes close and pressed his arm against Castiel’s. Castiel’s fingers twitched before his pointer finger shifted, hooked over Dean’s fingers to hold Dean against him.
It was nice to lie here, on an actual bed, with Castiel. It was a lot softer than floorboards, and Dean could only imagine how it felt to Castiel, whose body had had far less of a chance to get used to sleeping on hard surfaces than Dean’s had. If Dean was sore from sleeping on the floor after so many nights, Castiel undoubtedly had to be.
Dean let the silence of the store sink in, listened briefly to the jazz coming from the store’s stereo system. If it wasn’t for the music, he could almost imagine himself back in their house. And that idea made him open his eyes.
“We should check to see if we can bring this baby home today,” he said. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
Castiel’s response came in the form of a soft moan. Dean turned his head, felt himself relax and loosen up just a little more at what he saw. Castiel looked almost asleep. His breathing was even, his body completely relaxed. Even his grip had loosened from around Dean’s fingers.
“Hey.” Dean’s voice came out a whisper.
Castiel got out a grunt that was more air than anything else.
“You gonna fall asleep on me, here?” The back of his hand brushed lightly over Castiel’s knuckles.
Castiel nodded.
“We still gotta buy this thing,” Dean said as he rolled onto his side, leaned forward and pressed his lips against Castiel’s temple. “Then you can sleep all you want in our bed when we get it. Or…” he paused and waited until Castiel opened his eyes. “Or we can break it in first.”
Castiel’s lips quirked. “But first we have to buy it. And the bed frame.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Fun time is over for now, I guess.”
Castiel made a soft sound of agreement as he sat up, looked around the store. “Maybe the bed frames will be fun to pick out as well.”
Dean laughed quietly. “Doubt it. Mattresses so beat frames.”
Castiel’s hand fell briefly to Dean’s knee, squeezed lightly.
When he stood up, waited for Dean to join him to go to the register, he was smiling.
*****
Turns out, Castiel was great at following directions. Because as far as Dean was concerned, he was about ready to throw the directions out (if he didn’t salt them and burn them, first) and try to put the bed frame together without them. He’d sent Lucifer packing, after all. He figured assembling a bed frame shouldn’t be that hard.
“Dean.” Castiel’s hand fell upon Dean’s wrist, stopping him from flipping through the directions.
“I swear, Cas,” Dean complained, eyes glued to the complicated diagram of how to piece together the sides of the frame. “Putting guns together is simpler than getting this monstrosity into one piece. Hell, sending Lucifer’s ass back to Hell was easier than this.”
Castiel’s lips pressed against the back of Dean’s neck as his hand tightened around Dean’s wrist. “You need to have more patience,” he said. Dean paused just long enough for Castiel to slip the directions manual out of his grasp and hand him a wrench.
The bed frame came together quickly after that. They’d had no luck earlier that day, and the mattress they’d picked out wasn’t in stock. So instead of spending the night testing out just how sturdy the new mattress was, Dean was stuck assembling the bed frame. It wasn’t exactly the night he’d imagined when they’d started on this big adventure. But after they’d lugged the bed frame into the house, along with the new sheets they’d bought, and had a quick dinner, Dean and Castiel had set to work assembling the frame. Sam had holed himself away in the study, claiming to want to see what books Castiel had started collecting.
They’d finished assembling the frame only a few minutes ago, much to Dean’s relief, and Dean had left the room for only a moment to throw out the packing material that had been scattered around the room. As he walked back into the bedroom, he looked up and stopped abruptly. Castiel was standing in the middle of the empty frame, head bent down as he let his eyes flow over the smooth lines of the dark wood. They’d left out the bars of wood that would support the mattress when it arrived tomorrow, and Castiel had started laying the sleeping bags they used as bedding on the floor in the middle of the empty frame. It appeared, however, that he had become distracted. He seemed fascinated, a little dazed even, by the frame that was suddenly filling up their bedroom.
Dean moved into the room, picking up the blankets Castiel hadn’t touched. He walked forward, stepped over the frame, and dropped the blankets on top of the sleeping bags before stepping up to Castiel, pressing his chest against Castiel’s back. Castiel sighed, leaned back, and Dean let his arms go up and wind around Castiel’s waist.
“Hey,” Dean said. “You good?”
Castiel nodded against Dean’s shoulder. “I’m happy,” he said.
Dean felt something constrict in his chest and he shut his eyes, pressed his face into Castiel’s shoulder. “Yeah.”
And he meant it. Because even if he didn’t say it aloud as often as he could have or wanted to-old habits died hard, especially for Dean Winchester-he was happy. It was almost freakishly ridiculous how happy he was, because Dean couldn’t remember feeling this happy, this content, in a long time. The first night he had allowed himself to believe, really believe, that Castiel was staying after all the other angels had left had been a pretty awesome night, in more ways than one. As had the moment he realized Lucifer really wasn’t coming back, and he’d seen the relief and the tears Sam was trying to blink back as realization dawned on him that he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore, that “yes” wasn’t a word he needed to avoid at all costs. And the day Castiel had presented the house to him, well, that had ranked pretty high on the list of few moments in Dean’s life that he wouldn’t mind living over and over again. It was one of the only times someone had done something for Dean without any strings attached, and Dean was still feeling a little dazed that he had someone, Castiel especially, that wanted to do that for him.
But today, buying the frame and the mattress, it left Dean filled with a quiet kind of contentment, and it was unfamiliar. Dean hoped that now that they had this home to come back to, he could eventually get used to it, this feeling of contentment that he could find in quiet, small moments. Because he rather liked this feeling.
Dean let the silence go on for a few moments, concentrated on the feeling of Castiel breathing against him, the warmth of Castiel’s fingers brushing absently over his wrist. For Castiel’s sake, as well, he hoped they had more moments like this, that they could always come back after a hunt and crash here. Because despite Castiel settling into his humanity rather well, there were still moments when Castiel seemed to zone out, or nights when Dean woke up to find Castiel staring into the dark, sweat covering his body from nightmares and memories of a lost heaven. And Castiel’s happiness, well… hearing Castiel say he was happy, feeling him relax back against him, was pretty fucking fantastic.
“Hey,” Dean said after letting the silence continue for a few more moments. He briefly pressed his forehead harder against Castiel’s shoulder, but kept his tone light. “Did I ever thank you for going through the trouble of buying this house?”
“Yes,” Castiel said, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. “Many times.”
Dean nodded, lifted his head and placed a kiss to Castiel’s neck.
Castiel shivered as one of Dean’s hands slipped down, snaked under Castiel’s shirt, and his fingers ran over the top of Castiel’s jeans.
“But it was a lot of work,” Castiel sighed. “You might have to thank me again.”
Dean smiled, nipped at Castiel’s jaw. Castiel sucked in a quick breath and pushed back into Dean with a low hum of approval.
“I plan to.”
*****
Dean was waiting for Castiel at the front door as Sam pulled into the driveway shortly after two the next day. Around noon, Castiel had stuffed their old blankets and the new sheets into a duffle and Sam had driven him to Bobby’s to wash them, insisting that they get everything clean before the new mattress had arrived. Dean had, inevitably, been the one to stay behind and wait for the mattress to be delivered. Normally, Dean would have been fine with getting out of laundry duty. But the mattress had been delivered over an hour ago, and Dean was getting twitchy and bored. He wanted Cas home, now, so they could test out the new mattress.
Dean pushed off the doorframe as Sam’s truck came to a stop and Castiel climbed out of the car, duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. He looked up as he shut the passenger door. His brow furrowed as he saw Dean walking towards him.
“Dean?”
Without a word, Dean reached forward, grabbed Castiel’s wrist, and dragged him into the house. Castiel followed without protest. Dean stopped when he was standing in their bedroom. He turned around to take the duffle bag off of Castiel’s shoulder and plopped it on the ground.
“Awesome, right?”
A chuckle came from the doorway and Dean turned to see Sam leaning against the doorframe.
“You had to pick the biggest damn bed, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Bet your ass we did.” Dean turned back to Castiel, but whatever else he was going to say was cut short when he saw the expression, just short of awe, on Castiel’s face.
Sam shifted in the door frame, and Dean heard the jingle of keys.
“I’m gonna get going back to Bobby’s,” he said suddenly.
“Bobby’s?” Dean turned to face him fully. “Are you geeks ever done with your research?”
Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “No, Dean. Apparently not.” He paused for a moment, glanced at Castiel before his smile widened at Castiel’s silence. “I’m gonna spend the night there. I got a lot of research to get done.”
He shot Dean a look before he turned and left.
“You know,” Dean said after a moment. “Sam’s not half bad.” He shrugged. “When he’s not being a dick.”
“Yes, Dean,” came Castiel’s voice from near the floor.
Dean turned around, bewildered, to see Castiel crouching over the duffle bag, pulling out folded blankets and dark blue sheets. He stood, handed Dean a top sheet, before he walked over to the bed.
Castiel’s motions were smooth, efficient, as he shook out the bottom sheet, started pulling the corners of the sheet over the corners of the bed. Dean stood back and watched for a moment, feeling contentment rise again at watching Castiel put so much concentration into such a mundane task.
“You know,” he said as he stepped up to the bed, shook the top sheet out and laid it down. “Eventually we’re going to have to get a comforter to match.” He took a step back and looked down at the bed to see how it looked. Castiel tossed their pillows, both already in the new cases, against the headboard. “If you care about matching sets like that.”
“I think it looks good as is.”
And yeah, even though the blankets Castiel tossed onto the bed were old and didn’t exactly match the new dark blue sheets and pillowcases, the whole set-up looked pretty damn awesome.
“So,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. “You think it’s too early to call it a night?”
Castiel tilted his head, paused a moment before he took a step towards the bed. “We didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he said.
Dean shook his head. “No.”
“Sam’s gone.”
Dean grunted a yes when Castiel unbuttoned his pants, slid his jeans down and stepped out of his shoes and pants.
“We’ve been busy today.”
That was a lie, really, but Dean was willing to let it slide, because waiting around had been annoying as hell, and he thought he deserved to call it an early day after that.
Castiel stepped up to the bed, pulling off his shirt as he went. Dean licked his bottom lip, toeing off his boots as he watched Castiel sit down on the side of the bed closest to the window and lay down. Next came the part where Castiel stretched, a slow stretch of limbs and muscle, and looked at Dean out of the corner of his eyes, as if asking him why he was busy staring when they had more important business to get down to. Dean waited, started to pull his shirt over his head, but Castiel sighed, once, a long, tired sound, and Dean froze. Then Castiel shifted his body, pulled the sheet out from under him, and burrowed under it.
“Uh… Cas?”
A soft grunt was all the response Dean received.
“What… Are you shitting me?”
Castiel shifted then, his head lifting only slightly from his pillow.
“Dean?”
“We have a huge bed and the house all to ourselves, and you’re actually going to go to sleep?”
Castiel’s brow furrowed. “I thought the point of buying a bed was to sleep in it.”
Dean gaped at him.
The movement was subtle, just a tiny twitch of Castiel’s lips.
“You bastard,” Dean ground out, launching himself at the bed. Castiel laughed and turned onto his back as Dean grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Dean straddled Castiel’s hips, felt Castiel’s smile as he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Castiel’s lips.
“Sleep?” Dean murmured against Castiel’s mouth. He ground his hips slowly down, punctuating his words, and Castiel moaned as he arched up into him, hips stuttering. “I’ll show you what a king-sized bed is supposed to be used for."
'Verse continued in Kiss The Cook
Title: Some Assembly Required
Rating: PG-13
Genre and/or Paring: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 6,017
Summary: Dean and Castiel go mattress shopping. Takes place a couple of weeks after Let Them Seek Peace
Author's Notes: HUGE thanks to awesomepants87 for acting as beta. As her name suggests, she is awesome ;o)
Some Assembly Required
Dean woke to the feel of Castiel’s face pressed against his back. Castiel’s breath was a steady stream on Dean’s skin, and as Dean stretched his legs, his foot rubbed against the one Castiel had positioned firmly between Dean’s feet. The weight of Castiel’s body kept him warm against the cool morning air, and Dean wondered if it would be worth it to move, or if he’d rather lay here all day with Castiel curled around him.
So far, the fallen angel was winning.
Dean started to drift off again. And before he knew it, not only was Castiel straddling his hips, his hand sliding beneath Dean’s boxers, but there was pie, and whipped cream, and Dean remembered this dream. He liked this dream. Just as he was getting to the part where Castiel slowly licked the whipped cream from his fingers, his eyes locked on Dean's, a steady knocking overlay the quiet moan Castiel usually made at this point. That knocking was not part of the dream. Dean groaned and shut his eyes tighter as the dream faded. He turned his face into his pillow and tried to ignore the sound, telling himself it was probably just the house settling.
Because apparently houses settled. Tiny creaking noises and knocks in the night. It was strange to be stationary long enough in one place that he recognized sounds like that. Stranger still was the night when he stopped hearing those sounds, when they became part of the background noise that was as commonplace to him as breathing.
But this sound, now, was definitely not the house settling. It was a banging. Dean moaned, waited for the sound to go away, but the banging became louder, more insistent. Dean could swear he heard his name being called.
Castiel grunted behind him, pressed his face harder into Dean’s back. Dean held back a groan as Castiel stretched, his body lengthening out behind him before Castiel sighed and curled back around Dean, one leg moving to cover both of Dean’s as his arm came up and draped over Dean’s waist.
“Are you going to get that?”
Dean grunted. “What?”
“The door. It seems as if Sam has arrived early.”
“Sam?” Dean was having trouble waking up this morning. But he thought he couldn’t really be blamed, with feeling so warm and Castiel clinging so tight around him. The guy didn’t exactly make it easy to get up and leave bed in the morning.
“Your brother,” Castiel said, his hand flattening against Dean’s stomach. “Sam Winchester. He’s here. Early. At our front door.” His lips pressed a soft kiss against Dean’s back.
“The bastard’s early,” Dean grumbled, arching his back against Castiel, pressing closer. “He can wait.”
“Dean.” Castiel was firm that time, and Dean felt the arm retreating from around his waist before Castiel’s hand pressed against the small of his back, gave a tiny push. “Go.”
Dean groaned, rolling away from Castiel’s warmth. “Pushy,” he mumbled. Getting up was made even more unpleasant by the twinge in his neck as he sat up. “Fuck.” He brought a hand to his neck, rubbed for a moment before settling it on Castiel’s hip. Castiel made a small sound and leaned into Dean’s touch.
“You sure you want me to go answer that, Cas?” His grip tightened on Castiel’s hip, and Castiel made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. Dean looked down and saw Castiel burying his head into Dean’s pillow. It was bright, without blinds or curtains on the windows, and Dean wasn’t surprised Castiel was trying to burrow into whatever was available, whether it was his body or some other object. Dean shook his head, stood up. He took a moment to stretch, crane his neck. Muscles strained, ached, and he frowned.
“You know, we really need to get a mattress, Cas.” It had been a little over two weeks since they’d moved in. And while they’d spent four days of those two weeks on a hunt, the rest of the time had been spent trying to get the house in order. Sam had taken some time off hunting and helped out, claiming one of the room upstairs as his own for when he needed a place to crash between hunts and felt like giving Bobby a break. Bobby had been out to visit almost every day during the first week, offering advice on how to get the house in working order. Dean and Castiel didn’t have a lot of belongings, and so moving hadn’t really been an issue. All Dean had done when he and Castiel had pulled up in front of the house, ready to settle in and stay for good, was grab his duffle and Castiel’s from the back seat of the Impala, walk through the front door, and toss them onto the floor before turning to Castiel and declaring themselves moved in.
Cleaning, however, had been another story. The house was not dirty by any means, but there was more than a fair share of dusting. Castiel had wanted to paint as well, which was weird, considering Dean didn’t know where the fallen angel had learned to appreciate paint color. But considering the endless wall of colors they’d found at the hardware store, Dean thought it was another one of those choices Castiel liked making just for the heck of it. They’d spent over two hours in the hardware store, Castiel’s eyes skimming row upon row of colors, before he’d managed to narrow the selections down to a handful of those color palette cards. He had yet to make the decision as to the final colors, even with Dean helping him.
Wards had been set up around the house, their weapons had been organized and moved into the room beside their bedroom, and the room they’d designated as the study was equipped with the few books Castiel had already acquired and a desk Bobby had said he didn’t need anymore. They’d even managed to get a coffeepot and a secondhand microwave that still worked well.
Furniture had been another story entirely. Dean had been used to living in less than comfortable conditions, even before the Apocalypse, and Castiel had become used to the same conditions rather quickly when he’d fallen far enough that comfort was an issue. So sitting on the living room or kitchen floor to eat or relax wasn’t so bad. They had two chairs Bobby had given them that they moved around the house when they wanted to sit somewhere else other than the floor. Other than that, it was just a matter of getting a kitchen table and a couch they could kick back and relax in.
And a bed. They needed a bed. As much as it hadn’t really bothered Dean or Castiel at first to sleep on the ground on top of scattered sleeping bags and blankets, it was getting a little old. And a little sore. One of the reasons Castiel had bought this house for them was that they’d have some place familiar and comfortable to return to after the hunt. Not having a bed was kind of defeating half the purpose.
And yeah, it would be nice to be able to fuck without worrying whether one of them was going to be sore from the hardwood floors the next morning.
“Mmm…” Castiel mumbled something into the pillow, but Dean couldn’t quite catch the words. “Bed…”
“Yeah yeah.” Dean bent down, picked up his pants from the floor and slipped into them. Castiel had hung up a bunch of his shirts, despite Dean insisting that everything he had could be shoved in a duffle or in a dresser (when they got one), and so Dean stumbled over to the closet and pulled out a shirt, tugged it over his head. “Get up, Cas.” He pulled another shirt out of the closet, this time one of Castiel’s. “I don’t think Sam’ll appreciate seeing your naked ass walking around. Come on.”
Castiel grumbled as Dean dropped the shirt beside Castiel.
Sam’s knocking didn’t stop until Dean pulled open the door, settled himself against the doorframe.
“Give me one good reason why you’re here this early and I shouldn’t shoot your Sasquatch ass.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me.” Sam smiled. “It would get blood all over your floor.” He shifted the brown bag he held in his arms, and Dean narrowed his eyes. “And I brought pie.”
That was a good enough reason for Dean. He stepped out of the doorway and led the way through the house.
“So you gonna stick around for a few days this time?” Dean asked as Sam followed him into the kitchen. Dean headed straight for the coffee pot, grabbed the pot off the burner and turned the faucet on before glancing at Sam, eyebrows raised in question. Sam nodded, and Dean filled the coffee pot for two. Castiel still didn’t like the taste of coffee.
“Yeah.” The crinkling of the paper bag broke over Sam’s words as he unloaded what he’d brought onto the countertop. “A few at least. There’s a case down south, but some hunters from that area are taking care of it. I’ll look around while I’m here, see if there’s a case nearby. Until I find one, I could stay here for a bit.”
Dean nodded, turned the faucet off and finished setting up the coffee pot. “If you need any help, Cas and I are free. We could probably use a hunt soon.”
Sam scoffed. “Yeah, like you two don’t have your fair share of busy work around here.” Dean turned in time to see Sam glance towards the kitchen door. “Where is Cas, anyway?”
Dean smirked. “Bed. Not such a morning person. You weren’t supposed to get here this early, dude.”
Sam threw him an incredulous look. “Dean. It’s noon.”
There was silence for a moment. “It’s Saturday. We sleep in on Saturdays.”
“It’s Wednesday.”
Dean rolled his eyes, pushed off the counter to inspect what Sam had brought. “Details.”
No matter how early, or not early, Sam had decided to come around, he certainly knew how to make up for it. He had not only brought pie, but pancakes and French toast as well. And sides of bacon and sausage. Dean started reaching for the plate of pancakes when Sam’s hand slapped down on his shoulder and gripped tight as he tugged him backwards towards the hallway.
“Son of a… Sam!”
“Before you dig in, help me with this.”
“With what?” Dean planted his feet against the tile floor, halting his movement as he knocked Sam’s hand away.
“Bobby finally managed to get that table unburied from all his books. It’s in the back of the truck he lent me.” Sam glanced over his shoulder as he stepped into the hallway and headed for the front door. “Do you want this table, or would you rather continue to eat sitting on the floor?”
Dean grumbled as he took a step forward and followed Sam out to the driveway.
*****
By the time Castiel staggered downstairs, Dean and Sam had dragged the table inside, set it up dead center in the kitchen, cleaned it, and set out the food.
Castiel stopped in the doorway, his hand frozen where it had been combing through his hair, still mussed from sleep.
“Dean?”
Dean smirked at his confused expression. “Look what Sammy brought as a consolation prize for waking us up so early.”
Sam made a small, incredulous noise, but otherwise remained silent.
Castiel nodded after another moment of staring. “Thank you, Sam. Is this from Bobby?”
“The table, yeah. I brought the food over. Figured you might want a break from Dean trying to battle with the stove again.”
“Hey, I’m improving.” Dean pointed the forks he’d taken out of the silverware drawer at Sam. “Besides, I never said I was a cook.”
“Understatement.”
“You wanna eat this food, or are you just asking to get thrown out.”
Castiel ignored Dean and Sam as they continued their usual brotherly banter, choosing instead to search for a glass in the cabinet over the sink. He stopped at the refrigerator, pulled out the milk, before going over to the table, placing the milk carton and glass down.
“There are only two chairs,” he said, cutting Dean off mid-sentence.
Dean turned to look at Castiel, blinked. Castiel waited, kept his eyes calmly locked on Dean’s.
“Huh.”
Castiel tried not to smile.
“I don’t need one,” Sam said, grabbing a plate of pancakes from the table and leaning against the kitchen counter, his coffee perched next to him.
Castiel frowned. “Aren’t guests supposed to have first preference?”
“Bobby tell you that?” Dean pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. “Besides, Sam’s not a guest.”
“It’s fine, Cas,” Sam said after Castiel continued to stand. “I’ve been driving for a while. It feels good to stand.”
Castiel paused for a moment before nodding, pulling out the remaining chair and sitting opposite of Dean.
Dean and Castiel ate in relative silence, listening as Sam told them about the latest hunts he’d been on. When talk of the hunt started to turn to talk of the victims, and how things were shaping up with the other hunters, Dean’s eating slowed. Castiel looked up at him from behind the glass of milk he was drinking. Dean’s hand tightened around his fork as he asked if Sam had encountered any problems.
Sam shook his head, shrugged, and made a frown that even Castiel knew was hiding something. “No,” he said. “Just the regular bumps and bruises.”
Dean frowned, but nodded anyway. He lifted a forkful of pancakes to his mouth, but his shoulders were tense. Castiel placed his glass down, picked up his fork and began eating his French toast again as he slid his foot under the table closer to Dean’s. He stopped when his shin pressed against Dean’s calf. Dean visibly relaxed.
“So, did you two finally pick out paint colors?” Sam asked, glancing between them. “Is my room gonna be pink or something when I go up there?”
Dean’s frown deepened. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” He shook his head. “No. Cas here still can’t make up his mind.”
Castiel shrugged. “There are lots of choices.”
“Yeah, well those choices are scattered all over the living room floor.”
Sam smiled.
“We are almost done choosing.” Castiel placed his fork down on his empty plate and leaned back in his chair.
“Great. Maybe by the time I get back from the next hunt, you two will have this place finished.”
“Maybe,” Castiel said, but he had a thoughtful expression on his face, one that made Dean pause in bringing the last of his pancakes up to his mouth.
“Once you get colors picked out, it’s time to get some furniture.” Sam twisted and placed his empty coffee mug in the sink. “At least you guys have the basics down. Table, chairs, bed.”
There was silence.
“You guys do have a bed, don’t you?”
Dean shrugged.
“Jesus Christ, Dean. You’ve been here how long, and you still haven’t gotten a bed? You said that was your first priority.” He looked slightly uncomfortable saying it, but the dig at Dean made up for it.
And yeah, getting a bed had been one of Dean’s top priorities. Before they’d even settled into the house for good, Dean and Castiel had kinda claimed which room was theirs. It had seemed that the natural step to go from there would have been to go out, buy the biggest bed they could find, and not leave the house for a month.
But Dean hadn’t realized a house came with responsibilities other than fucking your partner as often, and as loud, as you could in your own place. Responsibilities like lighting, electricity, gas, appliances, water, heat. It was hard, getting everything set up, and the hunt they’d been on not too long after they’d moved in hadn’t really allowed them a ton of time to settle into the house and make a trip to Sleepy’s.
“It got away from us,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel for reassurance. Castiel simply stared back. “Okay, so we had other things to think about.”
“I don’t want to know what those other things are,” Sam said hastily, holding up his hands as he pushed off the counter. “Just…” he paused, his eyes falling to Castiel where the angel sat silently watching Dean. “You know what? Why don’t you guys just go? I need to run into town and pick up some supplies for the next hunt, and I can drop you off at the mattress store. Pick you up when you’re done. I can sleep on sleeping bags when I come, but really, Dean?”
“What?” Dean held up his hands, trying for incredulity. “We were getting to it.”
“Well, get to it. I’m surprised Cas hasn’t kicked your ass for this already.” He gave Dean another look. “I’m surprised you haven’t kicked your ass for this.”
Dean frowned. “Yeah, well I’m about to kick yours.”
“Just go.”
*****
Two hours later, Dean found himself standing beside Castiel in the middle of a store full of mattresses. Castiel was answering the questions the woman helping them kept asking. Dean was otherwise preoccupied. He’d never seen so many mattresses in his life.
“No,” Castiel was saying. “We don’t have a bed frame.”
“Okay, well, we have a wide range to select from.”
Even turned away from her, Dean could hear her shock.
“What are you two looking for? Queens?”
“King,” Dean said, snapping back into the conversation.
The woman looked surprised for a moment before she continued, “We don’t have the kings on display-it’s kind of a small store-but you can try out the different mattresses we have here and we can ship you your choice in the king size. If you’re lucky, we might have the king-size mattress in the warehouse and you could take it home tonight.”
“Awesome.” He turned to Castiel. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”
“What about the… frame?”
Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand and tugged him away from the store employee. “Fun now,” he said. “Business later.”
After twenty minutes of browsing the different mattresses, Dean figured that sticking with the employee might have been a better option. It had never occurred to him that so many different mattresses existed. To him, there had only ever been too hard or too soft. But it seemed as if mattresses could be made out of different materials, at different thicknesses, with different levels of hardness and softness. It was almost overwhelming.
But they managed to get the hang of it. Dean insisted pretty early on that anything hard was out of the question. He’d slept on the floors of too many abandoned buildings to want to pay for anything that closely resembled that experience. Judging from Castiel’s quick nod he completely agreed. Dean didn’t mind so much the mattress that was marketed as “one of the softest on the market,” but judging by Castiel’s frown when he laid down and the way he kept shifting his body, as if he couldn’t quite get comfortable, Castiel wasn’t one for the super-soft mattresses. So they’d stuck to the middle range, and pretty soon they’d narrowed it down to three choices.
“So, you have any preference?” Dean asked as he stared down at a bed that apparently folded up and down. He found the idea fascinating.
He was still trying to figure out the mechanics of the folding bed, and what they could use it for, when he noticed Castiel still hadn’t spoken. Dean broke his gaze from the mattress and looked up. Castiel was staring at the mattress as well, but Dean could recognize the glazed look in his eyes that told Dean that Cas really wasn’t seeing what was in front of him. After a moment Castiel’s eyes narrowed, his head tilted. Then he turned on his heel and started walking to the opposite side of the store.
“Cas?” Dean followed quickly, but by the time he caught up with him Castiel was already standing near one of the beds in the far corner of the store, staring down at the mattress. Dean watched for a moment. Then Castiel turned around, sat down, and shuffled back onto the bed. He lay down, his hands settling at his sides, and closed his eyes.
Dean glanced at the register, checking to make sure no one was going to come over, before turning around, walking to the side of the bed and lying down next to Castiel.
“So,” he said, staring at the ceiling. “This your choice?”
“Yes, Dean.”
Dean shifted on the bed, working his shoulders down into the mattress. It was a soft mattress, but firm with just a little give. He took a breath and felt himself sink comfortably into it. He liked it. He could imagine waking up in a bed like this, crashing down onto it at night, pressing Castiel into it.
Neither of them moved for some time. It was still strange, still weird to think that they had this, that they could be here shopping for something as simple as a mattress. That his life had boiled down to lazy afternoons spent sorting through paint colors on a living room floor and days spent in stores picking out mattresses. It hadn’t even been a year since the Apocalypse ended, and yet here he was with Castiel, lying on a mattress in the middle of a store for anyone shopping or passing by to see. It was overwhelming, sometimes, to think about all that he’d gained, and all that he suddenly stood to lose.
Dean sighed, let his eyes close and pressed his arm against Castiel’s. Castiel’s fingers twitched before his pointer finger shifted, hooked over Dean’s fingers to hold Dean against him.
It was nice to lie here, on an actual bed, with Castiel. It was a lot softer than floorboards, and Dean could only imagine how it felt to Castiel, whose body had had far less of a chance to get used to sleeping on hard surfaces than Dean’s had. If Dean was sore from sleeping on the floor after so many nights, Castiel undoubtedly had to be.
Dean let the silence of the store sink in, listened briefly to the jazz coming from the store’s stereo system. If it wasn’t for the music, he could almost imagine himself back in their house. And that idea made him open his eyes.
“We should check to see if we can bring this baby home today,” he said. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
Castiel’s response came in the form of a soft moan. Dean turned his head, felt himself relax and loosen up just a little more at what he saw. Castiel looked almost asleep. His breathing was even, his body completely relaxed. Even his grip had loosened from around Dean’s fingers.
“Hey.” Dean’s voice came out a whisper.
Castiel got out a grunt that was more air than anything else.
“You gonna fall asleep on me, here?” The back of his hand brushed lightly over Castiel’s knuckles.
Castiel nodded.
“We still gotta buy this thing,” Dean said as he rolled onto his side, leaned forward and pressed his lips against Castiel’s temple. “Then you can sleep all you want in our bed when we get it. Or…” he paused and waited until Castiel opened his eyes. “Or we can break it in first.”
Castiel’s lips quirked. “But first we have to buy it. And the bed frame.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Fun time is over for now, I guess.”
Castiel made a soft sound of agreement as he sat up, looked around the store. “Maybe the bed frames will be fun to pick out as well.”
Dean laughed quietly. “Doubt it. Mattresses so beat frames.”
Castiel’s hand fell briefly to Dean’s knee, squeezed lightly.
When he stood up, waited for Dean to join him to go to the register, he was smiling.
*****
Turns out, Castiel was great at following directions. Because as far as Dean was concerned, he was about ready to throw the directions out (if he didn’t salt them and burn them, first) and try to put the bed frame together without them. He’d sent Lucifer packing, after all. He figured assembling a bed frame shouldn’t be that hard.
“Dean.” Castiel’s hand fell upon Dean’s wrist, stopping him from flipping through the directions.
“I swear, Cas,” Dean complained, eyes glued to the complicated diagram of how to piece together the sides of the frame. “Putting guns together is simpler than getting this monstrosity into one piece. Hell, sending Lucifer’s ass back to Hell was easier than this.”
Castiel’s lips pressed against the back of Dean’s neck as his hand tightened around Dean’s wrist. “You need to have more patience,” he said. Dean paused just long enough for Castiel to slip the directions manual out of his grasp and hand him a wrench.
The bed frame came together quickly after that. They’d had no luck earlier that day, and the mattress they’d picked out wasn’t in stock. So instead of spending the night testing out just how sturdy the new mattress was, Dean was stuck assembling the bed frame. It wasn’t exactly the night he’d imagined when they’d started on this big adventure. But after they’d lugged the bed frame into the house, along with the new sheets they’d bought, and had a quick dinner, Dean and Castiel had set to work assembling the frame. Sam had holed himself away in the study, claiming to want to see what books Castiel had started collecting.
They’d finished assembling the frame only a few minutes ago, much to Dean’s relief, and Dean had left the room for only a moment to throw out the packing material that had been scattered around the room. As he walked back into the bedroom, he looked up and stopped abruptly. Castiel was standing in the middle of the empty frame, head bent down as he let his eyes flow over the smooth lines of the dark wood. They’d left out the bars of wood that would support the mattress when it arrived tomorrow, and Castiel had started laying the sleeping bags they used as bedding on the floor in the middle of the empty frame. It appeared, however, that he had become distracted. He seemed fascinated, a little dazed even, by the frame that was suddenly filling up their bedroom.
Dean moved into the room, picking up the blankets Castiel hadn’t touched. He walked forward, stepped over the frame, and dropped the blankets on top of the sleeping bags before stepping up to Castiel, pressing his chest against Castiel’s back. Castiel sighed, leaned back, and Dean let his arms go up and wind around Castiel’s waist.
“Hey,” Dean said. “You good?”
Castiel nodded against Dean’s shoulder. “I’m happy,” he said.
Dean felt something constrict in his chest and he shut his eyes, pressed his face into Castiel’s shoulder. “Yeah.”
And he meant it. Because even if he didn’t say it aloud as often as he could have or wanted to-old habits died hard, especially for Dean Winchester-he was happy. It was almost freakishly ridiculous how happy he was, because Dean couldn’t remember feeling this happy, this content, in a long time. The first night he had allowed himself to believe, really believe, that Castiel was staying after all the other angels had left had been a pretty awesome night, in more ways than one. As had the moment he realized Lucifer really wasn’t coming back, and he’d seen the relief and the tears Sam was trying to blink back as realization dawned on him that he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore, that “yes” wasn’t a word he needed to avoid at all costs. And the day Castiel had presented the house to him, well, that had ranked pretty high on the list of few moments in Dean’s life that he wouldn’t mind living over and over again. It was one of the only times someone had done something for Dean without any strings attached, and Dean was still feeling a little dazed that he had someone, Castiel especially, that wanted to do that for him.
But today, buying the frame and the mattress, it left Dean filled with a quiet kind of contentment, and it was unfamiliar. Dean hoped that now that they had this home to come back to, he could eventually get used to it, this feeling of contentment that he could find in quiet, small moments. Because he rather liked this feeling.
Dean let the silence go on for a few moments, concentrated on the feeling of Castiel breathing against him, the warmth of Castiel’s fingers brushing absently over his wrist. For Castiel’s sake, as well, he hoped they had more moments like this, that they could always come back after a hunt and crash here. Because despite Castiel settling into his humanity rather well, there were still moments when Castiel seemed to zone out, or nights when Dean woke up to find Castiel staring into the dark, sweat covering his body from nightmares and memories of a lost heaven. And Castiel’s happiness, well… hearing Castiel say he was happy, feeling him relax back against him, was pretty fucking fantastic.
“Hey,” Dean said after letting the silence continue for a few more moments. He briefly pressed his forehead harder against Castiel’s shoulder, but kept his tone light. “Did I ever thank you for going through the trouble of buying this house?”
“Yes,” Castiel said, and Dean could hear the smile in his voice. “Many times.”
Dean nodded, lifted his head and placed a kiss to Castiel’s neck.
Castiel shivered as one of Dean’s hands slipped down, snaked under Castiel’s shirt, and his fingers ran over the top of Castiel’s jeans.
“But it was a lot of work,” Castiel sighed. “You might have to thank me again.”
Dean smiled, nipped at Castiel’s jaw. Castiel sucked in a quick breath and pushed back into Dean with a low hum of approval.
“I plan to.”
*****
Dean was waiting for Castiel at the front door as Sam pulled into the driveway shortly after two the next day. Around noon, Castiel had stuffed their old blankets and the new sheets into a duffle and Sam had driven him to Bobby’s to wash them, insisting that they get everything clean before the new mattress had arrived. Dean had, inevitably, been the one to stay behind and wait for the mattress to be delivered. Normally, Dean would have been fine with getting out of laundry duty. But the mattress had been delivered over an hour ago, and Dean was getting twitchy and bored. He wanted Cas home, now, so they could test out the new mattress.
Dean pushed off the doorframe as Sam’s truck came to a stop and Castiel climbed out of the car, duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. He looked up as he shut the passenger door. His brow furrowed as he saw Dean walking towards him.
“Dean?”
Without a word, Dean reached forward, grabbed Castiel’s wrist, and dragged him into the house. Castiel followed without protest. Dean stopped when he was standing in their bedroom. He turned around to take the duffle bag off of Castiel’s shoulder and plopped it on the ground.
“Awesome, right?”
A chuckle came from the doorway and Dean turned to see Sam leaning against the doorframe.
“You had to pick the biggest damn bed, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Bet your ass we did.” Dean turned back to Castiel, but whatever else he was going to say was cut short when he saw the expression, just short of awe, on Castiel’s face.
Sam shifted in the door frame, and Dean heard the jingle of keys.
“I’m gonna get going back to Bobby’s,” he said suddenly.
“Bobby’s?” Dean turned to face him fully. “Are you geeks ever done with your research?”
Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “No, Dean. Apparently not.” He paused for a moment, glanced at Castiel before his smile widened at Castiel’s silence. “I’m gonna spend the night there. I got a lot of research to get done.”
He shot Dean a look before he turned and left.
“You know,” Dean said after a moment. “Sam’s not half bad.” He shrugged. “When he’s not being a dick.”
“Yes, Dean,” came Castiel’s voice from near the floor.
Dean turned around, bewildered, to see Castiel crouching over the duffle bag, pulling out folded blankets and dark blue sheets. He stood, handed Dean a top sheet, before he walked over to the bed.
Castiel’s motions were smooth, efficient, as he shook out the bottom sheet, started pulling the corners of the sheet over the corners of the bed. Dean stood back and watched for a moment, feeling contentment rise again at watching Castiel put so much concentration into such a mundane task.
“You know,” he said as he stepped up to the bed, shook the top sheet out and laid it down. “Eventually we’re going to have to get a comforter to match.” He took a step back and looked down at the bed to see how it looked. Castiel tossed their pillows, both already in the new cases, against the headboard. “If you care about matching sets like that.”
“I think it looks good as is.”
And yeah, even though the blankets Castiel tossed onto the bed were old and didn’t exactly match the new dark blue sheets and pillowcases, the whole set-up looked pretty damn awesome.
“So,” Dean said, glancing at Castiel out of the corner of his eye. “You think it’s too early to call it a night?”
Castiel tilted his head, paused a moment before he took a step towards the bed. “We didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” he said.
Dean shook his head. “No.”
“Sam’s gone.”
Dean grunted a yes when Castiel unbuttoned his pants, slid his jeans down and stepped out of his shoes and pants.
“We’ve been busy today.”
That was a lie, really, but Dean was willing to let it slide, because waiting around had been annoying as hell, and he thought he deserved to call it an early day after that.
Castiel stepped up to the bed, pulling off his shirt as he went. Dean licked his bottom lip, toeing off his boots as he watched Castiel sit down on the side of the bed closest to the window and lay down. Next came the part where Castiel stretched, a slow stretch of limbs and muscle, and looked at Dean out of the corner of his eyes, as if asking him why he was busy staring when they had more important business to get down to. Dean waited, started to pull his shirt over his head, but Castiel sighed, once, a long, tired sound, and Dean froze. Then Castiel shifted his body, pulled the sheet out from under him, and burrowed under it.
“Uh… Cas?”
A soft grunt was all the response Dean received.
“What… Are you shitting me?”
Castiel shifted then, his head lifting only slightly from his pillow.
“Dean?”
“We have a huge bed and the house all to ourselves, and you’re actually going to go to sleep?”
Castiel’s brow furrowed. “I thought the point of buying a bed was to sleep in it.”
Dean gaped at him.
The movement was subtle, just a tiny twitch of Castiel’s lips.
“You bastard,” Dean ground out, launching himself at the bed. Castiel laughed and turned onto his back as Dean grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Dean straddled Castiel’s hips, felt Castiel’s smile as he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Castiel’s lips.
“Sleep?” Dean murmured against Castiel’s mouth. He ground his hips slowly down, punctuating his words, and Castiel moaned as he arched up into him, hips stuttering. “I’ll show you what a king-sized bed is supposed to be used for."
'Verse continued in Kiss The Cook