Chapter Text
Dean squirms a little bit, still half-asleep, and then rolls over and throws an arm out. He pulls Cas' warm body closer to him and buries his nose in his hair.
“Five more minutes,” Cas mumbles.
“Who’s arguing?” Dean replies.
“Mmm.”
After several more minutes, Castiel suddenly jerks awake.
“What? What is it?” Dean asks groggily.
Cas removes Dean’s arm from around his waist and sits up. “They’re coming today. In two hours.”
“Ugh, do we have to?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Dean lies on his back and petulantly crosses his arms over his chest as he watches Cas scramble around the room for some clothes. He foregoes underwear and pulls on Dean’s pajama pants—the pair he ripped off Dean last night—which are two sizes too big and look absolutely ridiculous on him.
“Come on, Dean, get up. You’ll be mad if you don’t have time to clean.”
That does it for Dean. He rolls out of bed and heads naked toward the bathroom. Sometimes he hates how well Cas knows him.
But, also, he loves it. Because he knows definitively now that Castiel is the only person on earth who knows him really, really, intimately well. And he knows Dean because he lives with him and is married to him and not because he watched him on a TV show.
As Dean is washing his hair, the shower door opens and a hand snakes around his waist and rests on his lower belly where he carries most of his extra weight. A kiss drops to his shoulder from behind.
“Is it my birthday?” Dean asks.
“Happy anniversary,” Cas says.
“It’s not our anniversary.”
“Ten years today. It’s been 10 years since you left Rutnam.” Castiel’s hand moves a little bit more south.
“Oh, right. That’s why they’re coming today.” Dean lets his weight fall back a little bit against Cas. It’s hard to stand upright when he’s getting a sloppy handjob in the shower.
“Sam will be here, too. Silver lining.”
Whenever anyone mentions Sam, Dean feels warm all over. Even though it’s been 10 years, he still can’t believe his brother is alive and lives right down the street.
Castiel’s thumb slips over the tip, and Dean stops thinking about Sam.
They take longer in the shower than they really have time for, but they’re both better off for it. Definitely more relaxed.
Sam shows up an hour before the production crew is scheduled to arrive. He spends the better part of the hour complaining that Dean shouldn’t have to do this and he can’t believe he ever agreed to this in the first place and is he sure that he’s up for—
“Sam,” Dean interrupts. He stops scrubbing the counter and looks directly at his brother. “Once a year. My handsome face on everyone’s TVs for 20 minutes once a year. Small price to pay for a billion dollars.”
Sam shuts up. Dean goes back to scrubbing.
The months after Dean “got out” were particularly frustrating, but the good news is that it distracted Dean from freaking out about other things. He was able to skip his gay panic entirely because having sex with Cas as a way to handle the stress overrode any lingering homophobia.
Dean kept to his word and sued just about every person involved in the 25-year broadcast of Rutnam Shore. He subjected himself to the public eye and went through a televised battle in court that lasted nearly a year. In the end, he walked away with a literal billion dollars and all he has to do in return is a bullshit broadcast once a year.
Once everything was settled, Dean and Cas got married in the middle of Cas’ living room then packed up and moved to Fiji without telling anybody but Sam. Sam, of course, moved to Fiji the second he was done with law school. Dean was surprised he didn’t show up still wearing his cap and gown, diploma in hand.
The film crew spends an hour rearranging Dean and Cas’ back patio, so Dean makes pancakes for Sam and Cas while they wait. When they’re finally called outside, Dean takes Cas’ hand and leads him to the designated couch. Once seated, Dean wraps an arm around his husband and tucks him close against his side. Cas drops a hand to his knee and squeezes it gently.
With cameras rolling, Oprah says dramatically, “Ten years. It’s been 10 years.”
Before she can ask an actual question, Dean says, “Yeah, only another 16 before I’ve lived more of my life out in the real world than inside a zoo.”
Cas snorts back a laugh.
“And we all look forward to that day, Dean,” she responds without missing a beat. “Now tell us, how is your life different now than it was 10 years ago? And I don’t mean your time in Rutnam Shore—I mean how is it different from the day you got out?”
Dean looks at Cas and then back to the interviewer. “Well, I’m married to a Cas instead of a Cassie. Probably gained a few pounds.”
“No, you’ve lost weight,” Cas interrupts. He looks straight at the camera as he says, “I keep him active.”
Dean shifts awkwardly. “Yeah, um, thanks for that visual, Cas.”
“You know, it’s such a pleasure interviewing you two each year knowing that everyone watching at home is so happy that you’re together. Of course, the question everyone was asking since the start of the show was—”
“How will it end,” Castiel finishes for her. “I almost got kicked off the show the second I quoted that to Dean.”
“Like I had any fucking clue what you were talking about,” Dean mutters.
“The clip of that scene, of Castiel asking that question, has more views than any other video on YouTube. There are conspiracy theories that, Cas, you knew what was going to happen. That it was planned from the beginning that we would end up here.”
“Please, it would be ridiculous to give Metatron that much credit. I was simply being a smartass.”
Now it’s Dean’s turn to stifle a laugh.
After a few more bullshit questions, they bring Sam in and interview all three of them together. Dean is pretty sure they do interviews with Benny and Cassie and his fake parents and anybody else involved in the show, too, but it’s not like he’s going to sit down and watch the special each year. He doesn’t want to know what’s going on in any of those people’s lives. He understands that they were just doing their jobs and he's mostly forgiven them for it, but it still hurts to think that almost none of it was real.
It’s early evening by the time the crew finally leaves, so Dean, Cas and Sam eat a quiet dinner at home and then Sam heads out so Dean and Cas can go to bed early.
As soon as they’re tucked into bed, they make out for a little bit with no intention of progressing any further. After a few minutes, Dean pulls back.
“What’s on your mind?” Castiel asks as he strokes his thumb along Dean’s cheek.
“I used to have these dreams. Almost every night, I’d dream that Sam and I were driving on a highway in a classic—oh, it was a ‘67 Chevy Impala. I looked it up once. We’d, uh, drive around the country fighting ghosts and vampires and stuff. You showed up, too, sometimes, and you always had on this, uh, really ugly trench coat. I have no idea why.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Cas deadpans. “But I’m sure you have a point, so continue.”
“I never told anybody. Whenever I felt out of control or like somebody was watching me, I’d remember that I’ve always got my dreams. I can always go to sleep and nobody can watch me there. The dream version of you would tell me to take control of my life. I’ve never told anybody this. It’s the only thing…”
“The only thing you know for sure nobody on earth knows about you?”
Dean looks at his face for a long time before answering. “Yeah.”
“And you’re trusting me with it?”
Dean smiles. “Yeah. I trust you.”