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Dean wakes slowly, stretching his arms across the bed with a grin on his face. His hands find nothing but soft sheets and an abandoned pillow, but still he smiles, safe in the knowledge that Cas is only downstairs. He rolls to his back lazily, blinking his eyes open to find sunlight streaming through the curtains.
It’s been four years that they’ve lived in this house. Four wonderful years of him and Cas. He tilts his head back, like he does every morning, eyes falling on the journal page still framed above the bed. He heart swells at the sight of it, content and satisfied. It’s Sunday, no need for Dean to get up just yet, so he groans when he hears the bombardment of feet running down the hall. He sits up in bed just in time to see Emma, Sam and Jess’ three year old, charging past the open door.
“Em!” he calls, chuckling to himself when he hears her skidding to a halt. She peeks her head around the door, face lighting up when she sees Dean.
“Uncle Dean!” She launches herself onto the bed, landing in Dean’s arms. He wraps them around her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Uncle Dean, Uncle Cas made breakfast!”
Dean’s grin widens at that, standing up from the bed and swinging her up onto his hip. “Did he now?” Emma nods, face serious. “Then I guess we better go get some!”
He sets her back on the floor and she charges off again, Dean shaking his head at her boundless energy. Dean works the kinks out of his muscles before stooping to grab a shirt off the floor—one of Cas’, he realises, though at this point, all of their clothes are interchangeable—and heading downstairs.
He hears Cas before he sees him, humming an ACDC tune, and Dean wonders how he got so lucky.
Cas is barefoot with his back to Dean as he enters the kitchen. Dean walks up behind him, looping his arms around his waist and breathing in the scent of home. He presses a kiss to Cas’ nape.
“Morning, tiger,” Dean murmurs, twisting Cas’ hips in his hands so he can plant a kiss on his lips too. Cas gets out a muffled mmph, smiling against Dean’s mouth as he’s manhandled.
“Dean , there are children present!” Both of them turn to find Emma watching them with glee.
Dean groans, turning back to Cas. Sam and Jess have been away since Friday at a friends wedding, and even though Emma’s room is down the hall, it’s been a barren weekend for them sex-wise. Dean arches an eyebrow at Cas in question. “Raincheck?”
Dean shivers as Cas’ eyes drop before skating back up the length of his body, licking his lips when he reaches Dean’s face again. “Sure thing, cowboy,” Cas drawls. Then he winks, and he’s so goddamn awful at it, and yet still so unbearably sexy, that Dean’s newly-found resolve starts to crumble. He coughs, blushing, turning away to sit at the table. He knows the back of his neck is red, and the sound of Cas chuckling behind him does little to chase away the thoughts now racing through his mind.
It’s as he’s getting Emma settled into her chair that he feels it, the sluggish pull at his subconscious. Like fog rolling over a field, his vision blurs as he stumbles back from the table. He sucks in a sharp breath, hands trembling.
“Dean?”
Dean looks up to find Cas moving towards him, eyes full of concern. But Dean can’t stop it, can’t fight the pull he hasn’t felt in over four years. They stare at each other, understanding passing between them, and Dean can only stand and watch as Cas’ face falls.
“Cas, I can’t—”
“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas cuts him off. He steps forward, reaching a hand out to cup Dean’s jaw, and tears burn his eyes when he realises he can barely feel it. “Just come home to me,” Cas whispers, the sound distant, as if Cas is already a world away.
Dean nods, desperate to reach a hand out towards him but knowing he won’t be able too. He glances over Cas’ shoulder to see Emma, her eyes widened in confusion.
“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Dean’s talking to both of them, to Sam and Jess’ angel child, and to his own angel that holds his heart. He blinks, feeling the world spin around him, watching his kitchen and his life starting to fall away.
And in the space between one moment and the next, he’s gone.
Dean opens his eyes to the sound of church bells tolling.
He’s standing at the corner of a crossroads, people jostling past, the sound of traffic white noise. There’s a church ahead of him, spire reaching up into a cloudless sky.
Cas isn’t waiting for him, but then, Dean wasn’t expecting him to be.
His feet carry him across the street and into the park surrounding the church. He’s not sure why, but he feels drawn to the building, and he knows it’s where he’s supposed to go.
There are people milling around outside, men in suits and women in dresses, and it’s only as he gets closer that Dean realises he recognises some of them. He stops under the shade of an oak tree, just staring, his gut clenching with butterflies.
He knows what this day is.
He spots Sam’s head among the crowd, towering above the rest of them—Jess tucked under his arm, a little girl holding her hand that he recognises instantly as Emma, and a newborn cradled in her other. His heart beats furiously as he watches them, watches his family and feels love washing over him, oozing into every pore.
There’s one member of his family conspicuously missing here, and his pulse ratchets with misplaced nerves once he manages to convince himself why.
Cas isn’t here because he’s inside, waiting. Waiting for this day to begin.
Dean skirts a wide path around the crowd, spotting a side entrance to the church. He makes a beeline for it, ducking his head as he passes a couple of guests that he doesn’t recognise. Not yet. He realises he’s still dressed in the shorts and worn Pink Floyd shirt he’d snagged off the ground this morning, and he grimaces at how he must stand out. Fortunately, the door opens into an empty side corridor. Dean’s heart tugs him away from the direction of the nave of the church, and instead he follows the corridor to his left. There’s a door ajar at the end, and Dean smiles so hard he thinks it might split his face. Someone’s humming, the sound drifting to him as he gets closer, and he’d know that baritone anywhere. Cas.
He pauses in the doorway, pushing it gently. The door is old, heavy wood, silent as it opens, revealing a sight that makes Dean’s heart threaten to burst out of his chest. Cas has his back to him, but Dean can see his reflection in the mirror. He’s dressed in a black tuxedo, a smart waistcoat beneath his jacket, a thin gold chain hanging from the button and leading into his pocket. If Cas were to just take the pocket watch out, he would realise something was amiss today. But Cas, this Cas, has no reason to, and he carries on fiddling with his emerald bowtie, unaware of Dean hovering behind him.
Dean stares, so content to see Cas, to see the happiness pouring out of every inch of him. He almost doesn’t want to disturb the moment, would rather go sit outside, and just wait for his time to travel home.
But then again, this is Cas, this is their wedding day, and Dean couldn’t tear his feet from this spot if his life depended on it.
Dean clears his throat. Cas’ head snaps up to the mirror, and he whirls to face him, shock and horror dawning on his features. Dean’s smile drops a little, wondering why Cas looks so alarmed, until—
“Dean! What are you doing in here? You know it’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding!” Dean chuckles, entering the room and shutting the door behind him. It’s only then that Cas seems to notice what Dean is wearing, and his eyes widen with panic.
“You’re not even dressed!?”
Cas pales, but Dean shakes his head, rolling up the sleeve of his tshirt to reveal a half-finished tattoo beneath. Cas’ brow furrows in confusion, before understanding washes over his features.
“You’re… You travelled here?”
“Sure did, sunshine.” Dean’s jaw is starting to ache from the force of his smile as he stares unabashedly at Cas, soaking up every inch of him. God, he looks gorgeous like this. Dean licks his lips. Cas notices and arches an eyebrow, before stepping back and pointing a finger at him.
“Don’t even think about it,” Cas warns, but apparently Dean’s pent up frustrations from the weekend have travelled with him, and he can already feel heat pooling in his gut at the picture of Cas dressed to the nines before him.
“Think about what?” Dean asks innocently.
Cas squints back at him.
They’re interrupted by a knock at the door, and Cas makes a hurried gesture at Dean to hide. Dean situates himself out of sight behind the door as Cas opens it, hoping beyond hope that he’s not about to come face to face with himself. Instead, his heart thumps when he hears Sam’s voice, and he has to force himself to remain hidden. He’s not sure why it’s so important that Sam doesn’t see him. After all, Sam’s no stranger to Dean’s mysterious gift. And yet, these moments have always been just him and Cas, and it feels wrong to bring someone else into the fold.
He barely notices the words passed between them, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, and it’s only as the door clicks shut once again does he breathe a sigh of relief, snapping himself back to the present. Or future, as it were.
“Everything okay?” he asks, approaching Cas again. He comes up behind him, leaning over his shoulder to look down at whatever it is Cas is now holding in his hands. It’s a note—Sam must have delivered it—and when he reads what’s written on it he has to laugh.
Since I’m the best past, present, or future husband ever, I’ve sent you a little gift. It’s your favourite thing… me. Now relax, and let me take care of you. Don’t worry about the guests — I’ll stall.
See you at the end of the aisle, babe.
There’s a little P.T.O in the corner, and Cas flips the note to see another message hastily scrawled on the back.
Do NOT mess up your suit, but feel free to show up with epic sex hair. You know what that does to me.
“I hope you know that this note is so going on the wall,” Cas chuckles, and Dean uses the leverage he has behind Cas to wrap his hands around his waist and spin him so they’re face-to-face. It’s so similar to the moment that Dean had experienced a mere hour earlier in his kitchen that he feels a sudden pang in his chest, all at once missing his own Cas so fiercely it aches.
“Hey,” this Cas murmurs, “where’d you go?” He reaches a hand out to soothe over Dean’s forehead, but Dean catches it in his own, bringing it down to his chest.
“Do you remember this?” he asks, suddenly needing to know, craving the reassurance that the Cas he left behind is okay. “I was in our kitchen, Emma was there… you were making breakfast. Sam and Jess are at Elijah’s wedding.”
Cas’ eyes soften in recognition, and he nods. “You aren’t gone long, Dean, don’t worry.” Despite the years between these versions of themselves, Cas still understands Dean better than Dean has ever understood himself. And he knows exactly what it is that Dean truly wants to hear. “It’ll be night time when you get back, and I’ll have already gone to bed. But it’s okay, because I’ll be trusting that you’ll come home to me, and you do, Dean. You always do.”
Dean gazes down at him, the laugh lines around his eyes a little deeper, but the soul staring back behind them no different to the one he left behind. There’s a twinkle there, like Cas knows something that Dean doesn’t, but Dean doesn’t ask. He may be rusty, but he remembers enough of the unspoken rulebook to know that he shouldn’t.
“Now less thinking, more doing,” Cas says, bringing Dean back to the present. “Chop chop, I’ve a wedding to get too.”
Dean chuckles, his hands tightening around Cas’ hips once more. “Hmm, I’m not sure Cas…” He leans down to place a kiss in the spot under Cas’ ear that he knows will make Cas melt. “I wouldn’t want to make you late.”
Cas bites back a moan, tilting his head back further. “I seem to recall that on the very morning you just mentioned, you offered me a raincheck,” Cas states, breathless. “I’d like to cash that now.” Dean laughs, the weight in his chest lifting because this little sass monster is clearly every bit the same Cas as the one he left behind this morning.
Dean pulls back, smirking wolfishly down at him. He lets his hands drift down Cas’ hips, smoothing over the expensive material of his suit pants. “How do you want me?”
Cas hums, his hands running up Dean’s chest to rest on his shoulders. He leans forward to whisper in Dean’s ear. “Actually, I was rather hoping that you would have me.”
Dean actually growls in response, and Cas’ resounding laughter, full and light and happy, does nothing to dissuade Dean’s dick that it needs attention and it needs it now. He reluctantly backs away from Cas, but after seeing the desire painted plain as day across his face, he’s helpless to stop himself from stealing a kiss.
Dean makes a soft sound of satisfaction in his throat when he notices that Cas still tastes the same, that they still fit together so perfectly. Dean runs his hands across Cas’ jaw to bury them in his hair. He thinks back to the note and clenches his fingers around the strands of Cas’s hair. He deliberately makes a show of it, playing with it in order to return it to it’s natural state, disliking the feel of whatever it is that Cas has used to tame his hair on his fingertips.
“If— when —I catch past-you with whatever the hell this crap is in your hair, I’m going to throw it out,” Dean warns, wiping his hands on the front of his own t-shirt. Cas glares at Dean’s hand, nose wrinkled in disgust, but Dean just shrugs. Glancing around the room, his eyes settle on a table that’s tucked in the corner of the room. He moves to drag it away from the wall, and when he turns to face Cas again, he finds his head tilted quizzically. A wave of comfort flows through him at the familiarity of it, and damn, if he isn’t glad to see that Cas hasn’t changed.
“What are you doing?”
Without a word, Dean stalks back over to Cas and lays another kiss on him, this one bruising, Cas staggering back a step from the force of it. Well, that won’t do. Dean’s hands circle his waist and draw him back in, pressing their bodies together. He moans into Cas’ mouth, his cock a rock hard line pressed up against Cas’ hipbone. He turns them on the spot, shoving Cas back until his thighs hit the table. When Dean pulls away this time, Cas’ lips are swollen and parted as he pants. Remembering his own orders about not messing up the suit, Dean pushes Cas’ jacket off his shoulders and unbuttons his waistcoat, carefully unclipping the watch and stowing it in a pocket. He tugs Cas’ bowtie off too for good measure.
“Turn around, Cas,” Dean whispers. Cas obeys without question, gasping when his eyes land on the mirror directly in front of them. Dean smirks over Cas’ shoulder, carressing the side of Cas’ neck with his nose. Cas’ eyes flutter closed, and Dean tuts as he wraps his arm around him, resting a solid hand against his chest. “Open your eyes, baby.”
Cas opens his eyes again, and they’re glassy, dazed with pleasure. Dean watches him in the mirror, watches Cas’ chest heave and his lips part as Dean trails his hand lower, teasing Cas’ waistband. Sure fingers make short work of opening Cas’ pants and ease inside the fly. He slides his other hand between them, applying gentle pressure against the base of Cas’ shoulder blades.
“Bend over for me,” Dean says, and Cas groans, falling forward onto his elbows. Dean follows him down, stretching his body against Cas’, feeling the warmth of him seeping through his shirt. He rubs his cock against Cas’ ass, hating the layers between them but loving that it doesn’t mask the feeling of Cas’ thighs trembling, of Cas pushing his ass back against him. Dean catches Cas’ earlobe in his teeth. He nips it gently, soaking up Cas’ answering whine before whispering, “I want you to watch.” And Cas shudders at that, opening his mouth to protest, but Dean cuts him off. “I want you to see how beautiful you are for me like this. I want you to see yourself how I see you. Gorgeous, giving,”—he pauses to suck a mark into the hollow behind Cas’ ear—“everything.”
Cas sucks in a breath, tilting his head to brush a kiss against Dean’s hairline. The angle is awkward, but Dean knows it’s Cas’ way of saying ‘thank you’ .
Dean waits for Cas to relax beneath him before he draws away. He glances up to the mirror and finds Cas’ gaze locked on his. The brief uncertainty Dean had seen in his eyes is gone, replaced with unwavering lust. Smiling smugly, Dean drops to his knees, pulling Cas’ pants and boxer briefs down as he goes. Cas’ pants hit the floor with an unusual clunk, and a flush spreads down Cas’ spine so fast that even his ass tinges pink.
“Something you wanna share, Cas?”
“Uh, I. Um.” Cas coughs, his blush deepening.
Dean chuckles, leaning forward to brush a kiss against one of Cas’ cheeks. Cas jumps in surprise, and Dean’s treated to the sight of goosebumps erupting all over his skin. He carefully helps Cas the rest of the way out of his pants, standing so he can fold them over the back of a chair. It’s only once he’s upright that he hears Cas mutter, “You can just look.”
“Oh can I?” Dean teases, Cas’ exasperated huff making him smile. Curious, he fumbles in the pocket of Cas’ pants, arching an eyebrow at Cas in the mirror once he manages to extract the source of the sound. “Seriously?”
Cas has the decency to look mildly ashamed of himself as Dean rolls the bottle of lube between his palms, but the expression is kind of lost when he looks so thoroughly debauched. They haven’t even done anything yet, and Cas already looks like he got fucked six ways from Sunday. It’s one of Dean’s favourite things about him, how easily he gets all riled up.
“It wasn’t going to still be in there when I walked up the aisle, Dean. I was going to…”
And if possible, Cas’ blush deepens further, and Dean feels a drop of precome force itself from his aching dick when he works out what Cas is trying to say.
“Holy shit you were going to prepare yourself, weren’t you? Before going to meet me at the altar.”
Dean watches as Cas ducks his head, but he can’t bear to see that, can’t bear to think of Cas feeling embarrassed when Dean has never felt so turned on in his life. “Fuck,” Dean breathes, and then he’s on him again, his hands tightening around Cas’ hips, his lips pressing kisses anywhere he can reach. “That’s so fucking hot. Can’t believe you were going to do that.”
“Only for you,” Cas replies, wiggling his hips and drawing Dean’s attention back to his ass. Dean willingly obliges, kneeling behind Cas again and licking his lips at the sight of Cas’ plump ass inches from his face. Cas moans, a whimpered “please” escaping him.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure you’re prepared for later. ‘M gonna open you up real nice.” Dean draws his thumbs down to part Cas’ cheeks, saliva pooling in his mouth as Cas’ hole clenches and relaxes. He blows over it gently, relishing the stuttered shout Cas tries and fails to keep in, before licking a slow stripe up Cas’ perineum and over his hole. Cas keens, rolling his hips back to meet Dean’s tongue. Dean takes his time, tracing slow circles around Cas’ rim, dipping his tongue in but not enough to be anything but a tease.
It’s only once Cas starts making aborted little movements with his hips, like he’s trying to thrust back onto Dean’s tongue, that Dean takes pity on him. He pulls away, Cas’ low cry of protest ringing in his ears as he sucks a finger into his mouth.
He presses gently at Cas’ rim, the muscle soft beneath his slick finger as it glides in. Cas groans and Dean moans in response, his attention that was rapt on the place where his finger disappears into Cas suddenly redirected back to his own aching dick.
“You still watching yourself, baby?” Dean asks, and a shiver ripples over Cas, breaking into a full on tremble when Dean dives back in, holding Cas’ hole open with his finger so he can lick inside him.
“Yes,” Cas gasps, “I’m still watching.”
Dean hums and Cas’ back arches, the vibrations no doubt to to blame, another cry falling from his lips. Dean adds a second finger, thrusting his tongue between them as he stretches Cas open.
He pulls away and presses a kiss to the base of Cas’ spine. His fingers never stop their movement, twisting and wringing pleasure out of Cas, but avoiding the one spot he wants them most.
“Tell me how you look, Cas,” Dean murmurs, wishing he could see for himself but also enjoying far too much the mess he’s making of his boyfriend. Or fiance, as he should say.
“Dean, I don’t… I can’t…”
Dean reaches for the lube, pouring it directly over where his fingers are still pumping in and out of Cas. Cas gasps at the sensation, the lube cold against his heated skin. Dean pulls his fingers out so only his fingertips remain caught on Cas’ rim, drizzling lube over those as well. When he presses forward again, he tucks a third finger in, Cas’ answering moan music to his ears. He muses briefly at the irony of this situation, him kneeling at Cas’ feet, playing him like a well worn piano, in a church of all places. But damn if Cas’ ass isn’t an altar he’d happily worship at until the day he dies.
“Guess I’ll just have to look for myself then.” Dean rises to his feet, groaning when he catches Cas’ eyes in the mirror. His hand falters briefly, until Cas whines and presses back against him. Dean grins, leaning over Cas’ back so he can press a kiss to his neck while he plucks at the nerves of Cas’ hole. “Look at you,” Dean murmurs. “All flushed and pretty for me. Do you know what you to do to me, Cas?” Dean presses his erection against Cas’ hip, his own breath catching at the exquisite pressure.
“I’m ready, Dean,” Cas breathes, and Dean grins, removing his fingers slowly. Cas’ face is red, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow. His eyes are glazed, glossed over with want, his hair a beautiful disaster. Dean shoves his own shorts down, not wasting time getting them further than his hips.
“God I love you,” Dean mutters, pressing himself inside Cas in one long, slow slide. They moan in tandem when Dean’s thighs hit Cas’ ass, Cas squeezing around him.
“I love you, too,” Cas pants. “Now get a move on.”
Dean chuckles, all too willing to oblige. He sets a fast pace, angling directly for Cas’ prostate, knowing it won’t take much to set him off. They’ve been caught in this haze of lust for too long, Cas already pushed close to the edge from Dean’s fingers and tongue.
Cas moans, the vibration of it rumbling through his whole body. Dean cups Cas’ jaw with his dry hand, pressing their cheeks together, his chest still plastered to Cas’ back, and points both their gazes at their mirror. “I want to watch you come, Cas. Want you to watch. And then I want you to watch me.”
Dean straightens, pulling Cas up with him so they’re still back to chest. Cas’ cock, rock hard and flushed, is in full view of the mirror. Dean grips it in his fist, pumping slowly, watching the precome dripping down his fingers. The sight is mesmerising, and it’s only when Cas starts begging, urging him to go faster, harder, that Dean realises he’d stopped thrusting altogether.
He strokes Cas’ cock quicker in time with his thrusts, loving that he can hold him and see him at the same time. Cas is so tight—hot, wet heat surrounding him—and Dean’s heartbeat thuds in his ears, matching the rhythm of Cas’ against his chest.
It only takes a few more thrusts and Dean leaning down to nibble at Cas’ neck, drawing a shuddering gasp from Cas’ lips, before he’s groaning Dean’s name, coming in thick stripes that Dean carefully angles away from his shirt. The sight of Cas rapt with pleasure, his whole body trembling from it, has Dean coming too. He wants to watch, doesn’t want to miss it for anything, yet he can’t help but close his eyes as he moans, leaning his forehead down on Cas’ shoulder.
They stand there together, both of them trembling, Dean nuzzling into the space beneath Cas’ jaw. They part eventually, Dean hastily cleaning Cas up with the corner of his own t-shirt. He grimaces, but he can’t just leave Cas like that.
“Feel better, babe?” Dean asks, a smug grin making its way onto his face when Cas rolls his eyes in answer. Cas manages to get his pants back on, and is in the process of tucking his shirt back in when he stops and just looks at Dean.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” he says, and Dean nods, already knowing in his heart that this isn’t something he’s going to tell Cas about once he gets back home. Oh, he’ll tell him what happened of course, already feeling marginally guilty about it, but he won’t tell him about the wedding. He knows how much Cas will be looking forward to this day, and there’s no way he’ll ruin that for him.
“I guess I’ll want it to be a surprise,” Dean says, and Cas smiles in answer.
“Thank you, I know that I’ll appreciate that.”
They both share a fond laugh at the bizarre nature of the conversation and of their whole lives in general. Dean steps forward to adjust Cas’ bowtie, getting into his space as he looks into his eyes and says, “there. Perfect.” Dean leans down to give him one last kiss, a lingering one. He pulls away again with a sigh. “You’d better get a move on, then. You don’t get there soon you know Gabe’s gonna have started eating all the pie.”
“Pie?” Cas laughs. “What makes you think we aren’t having a traditional wedding cake?”
Dean snorts, straightening the lapels of Cas’ jacket as he shrugs it back on. “Don’t be absurd. You can’t have a Winchester wedding without pie, Cas.”
“Ah, you caught me.” Cas looks sheepish, and Dean thinks his heart couldn’t possibly swell any further today without exploding. He wonders briefly when he’ll start fading out again, muses at the idea of staying to watch the wedding before immediately deciding against it. After all, he doesn’t want to ruin the day for himself either.
“Hey,” Cas interrupts his wandering thoughts. “I’m happy I got to see you today. It’s… fitting.”
“I’m real happy too,” Dean replies. Cas makes for the door but Dean stops him, reaching a hand out to tussle his hair a little more. Cas rolls his eyes but allows it, and Dean follows him as he exits the little dressing room they’re in.
“I suppose I’ll see you soon,” Cas says, looking somewhat torn. Dean gets it, the lingering sadness at being parted from one another. But he still misses his own Cas, and this day, everything about it, is just proof that they will never actually be parted—Dean will make sure of it. And he wouldn’t give up the years between then and now for anything.
Cas laughs suddenly, shaking his head, and Dean looks at him quizzically. “No offence,” Cas starts, “but God, I can’t wait to see other you. Hopefully he’ll be dressed better.”
Dean chuckles. “It’s okay. I can’t wait to get home to you either. Other you, I mean,” he winks. “And for the record, I’m sure I clean up pretty nice.”
“I’m counting on it.”
They’ve reached the side entrance Dean came in through, and only now does Dean notice the closed door opposite. He hears murmurs, and his heart races at the thought of what’s on the other side of that door.
“Knock ‘em dead, tiger,” Dean whispers, and Cas nods, turning to open the door. Dean turns away too, when suddenly a thought crosses his mind. “Cas, wait—” Cas looks back to him. “What date is it today?”
Cas’ eyes twinkle. “You already know, Dean.”
And then he’s opening the door, and Dean has to duck his head because he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to spoil it.
It’s only as he’s exiting the building that he hears it, the fanfare as the theme from Return of the Jedi begins. He throws his head back, laughing as the sun beams down, wondering for the umpteenth time how the hell he got so damn lucky.
Cas was right, as always.
It’s dark when Dean finds himself back in his kitchen, blinking his eyes to find the cabinets lit only by moonlight.
The house is still, quiet. Sam and Jess would’ve collected Emma hours ago, and Dean’s stomach lurches as a wave of guilt rushes over him. He’d been gone, witnessing perhaps the greatest day of his life, and even though he was with the man he loves, the man he loves was also right here, alone. Waiting for him to return and not knowing when that would be. Unable to bear being away from him a moment longer, Dean rushes up the stairs, not even bothering to keep quiet as he opens the door to their bedroom.
Cas is lying facing away from him, curled around Dean’s pillow. Dean’s heart wrenches as he walks around the bed and catches a sight of his face—his forehead creased, the skin under his eyes red. Dean quickly shucks out of his shorts and t-shirt, edging back around the bed until he can slide in behind Cas. Both of his arms reach out and pull him Cas towards him, tucking him into the curve of his chest. He presses his face into Cas’ nape, the familiar scent of him soothing. Cas shifts, making a sound in the back of his throat.
“Cas? You awake, sweetheart?”
“Dean?”
Dean breathes a sigh of relief. He tightens his arms around Cas, not wanting to let go just yet.
“Dean, you’re squashing me.”
Dean huffs, pressing a long kiss to the back of Cas’ neck before releasing him enough that he can turn in Dean’s arms.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispers into the space between them. “Missed you.”
Cas struggles to get his arms untangled from the duvet so that he can bury them in Dean’s hair and draw him in for a kiss. He kisses him desperately, his hands clutching too tight.
“Easy, Cas,” Dean shushes him, pulling away. “It’s okay, I’m back. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t know how long you’d be gone. Where did you go?” His eyes are shining, but he looks relieved, tucking his head under Dean’s chin.
“I went to find you of course,” Dean answers, tilting his head down to plant a kiss on the end of Cas’ nose. “I saw our future together.”
“Our future?” Cas’ raises his head back up to look at Dean, eyes lighting up, as though the notion of them having a future together hadn’t occurred to him. “What did you see?”
Dean smiles, excitement coursing through him. “I can’t tell you, you know that. I don’t want to do anything that might change it. Besides, what I saw… what happened… I want it to be a surprise for you.”
Cas squints up at Dean. “What do you mean, ‘what happened?’”
Dean can feel the back of his neck heating up. “Uh—”
Cas gives him a calculating look.
“I know that look.” Cas shoves against Dean, Dean huffing as he rolls onto his back and pulls Cas with him until he’s straddling him.
“You fooled around with future me, didn’t you?” Cas’ tone is scandalised, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes, his jaw twitching as he holds back laughter.
Dean arches an eyebrow at him, his earlier guilt evaporating. “Let’s just say I’m very attracted to every version of you.”
Dean blushes, hard, but Cas just throws his head back and laughs, and it’s the last nudge that Dean needs for the tension in his head to dissipate. Cas is still laughing, so Dean takes the opportunity to throw him off his lap, flipping their positions and pinning him to the bed. “I love you so much, you dork,” he murmurs, before kissing the stupid grin off Cas’ face.
“Nice to know future me is still sexy,” Cas says when they part, making Dean smile.
“You could be old and wrinkly and I’d still find you sexy as hell. You’ll never not be sexy to me.”
Cas wrinkles his nose. “Well I certainly hope the me you fooled around with wasn’t that old.”
“I know what you’re doing,” Dean replies, “and I’m not giving you any hints.”
Cas sighs dramatically, before wriggling out from under Dean, turning his back to him again and arranging Dean’s arms around him. He’s always liked being the little spoon, and Dean’s more than happy to comply, tucking him up against his chest and pressing them together from head to toe.
“You don’t want that raincheck?” It’s a cheeky comment, and Dean’s rewarded for it with a kick to his shin.
“Not now, you ass,” Cas says. “Right now I just want you to hold me and do that thing where you tell me how much you love me and I pretend that I’m asleep and I can’t hear you.”
“Okay, okay. Whatever you want.” Dean squeezes Cas tighter, savouring the weight of him back in his arms where he belongs.
Cas hums in satisfaction. “I love you, Dean,” he says after a while, his voice quiet. “Thank you for coming home to me.”
“Always, Cas.” He buries his nose in Cas’ hair, kissing him on the head softly, his hand tracing absent circles across Cas’ stomach. “Always.”
Dean whispers to him for a while, random nonsense for the most part, until he hears Cas sighing contentedly, his breathing evening out. Dean lies awake for a long time after that, his murmurs having drifted off alongside Cas’ consciousness, content to just be there with Cas in his arms, warm and safe.
And right before he falls asleep, he whispers one more thing, knowing that Cas won’t hear but wanting to tell him anyway.
“I’m going to marry you one day.”