Fic: I can barely heart my heart beating, part 2/? in Oz
I can barely hear my heart beating
850 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to zelda_zee for continuing beta and indulgence.
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
Dean gets up every morning at 7:48 sharp;
I can barely hear my heart beating
Dean gets up every morning at 7:48 sharp; it’s always after the second snooze that Castiel starts to kick him under the covers. Dean grumbles but shuts off the alarm dutifully and climbs out of bed into the morning darkness.
Dean stumbles downstairs in his boxers and sets up the coffee pot. Sometimes he remembers to put on a jacket or robe before stepping outside to pick up the newspaper, but most days a startled Mr. Florentine next door gets an eyeful.
Dean sets the paper on the table and pops two slices of bread into the toaster. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and skims the headlines until Castiel makes his way into the kitchen, hair sticking up at odd angles.
Most days, Dean says something like, “Morning,” or “Bad weather today,” or “Your toast is ready.” Castiel usually grunts in return. As it turns out, Castiel’s not really a morning glory. To make up for it, as Castiel’s pouring his own coffee, he also pours Dean a mug the way he likes with a touch of milk and no sugar.
After they’ve finished their breakfast and coffee, Dean and Castiel head back upstairs to get dressed. Their movements around the bedroom are like a strange synchronized dance, moving around each other smoothly without collision or words. Dean slides into jeans and a button-down shirt and Castiel changes from his blue pajama set to khakis and a pressed polo.
“Have a good day,” Castiel says as he stands in the front door of the house, arms hanging down by his sides. Every morning Dean thinks: one of these days, he’s going to teach Castiel how to wave properly when he says that. Every evening when Dean comes back from work, he forgets.
“You too,” Dean replies, nothing fancy. The first few times it was awkward, a daily pleasantry he had to force. But now it’s become a well worn routine, a path through all the days that spiral together like water spinning down a bathtub drain.
Dean usually reaches his store at 8:15. He unlocks the back door, turns on the lights, and sets about preparing for the day. About a half hour later, Sanjay arrives to help move boxes in the storeroom and restock the shelves. At 9:00, Dean flips the sign in the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ and sits behind the counter on a high stool.
A few early birds come around 9:30, but most customers don’t show up until at least 11:00. Noon to 1:00 is always busy on the weekdays, what with people running errands during their lunch hours. Traffic settles down again afterwards and Dean goes to the back office to do some paperwork while Sanjay takes over the counter.
At 2:00, Dean sets Sanjay free and Emma’s shift starts. Occasionally, Dean takes the afternoon off and leaves her to close up, but most days he stays till 6:00 to close out the register and clean up the store with her.
Dean’s usually home by 7:00. There’s almost always a piping hot take out meal from one of the three restaurants in town awaiting him. They’ve got the menus memorized by now and Castiel orders both their favorites without even looking anymore.
As they eat, Dean shares stories about what the customers or Sanjay or Emma did that day. They’re not particularly interesting stories, but Castiel always listens. In return, Castiel talks about walking to the park and trying to learn algebra from a book. Dean always jokes that it’s a good thing Castiel’s only supposed to be teaching 3rd graders, otherwise he’d mathematically screw those kids up for the rest of their lives. Castiel always chuckles and agrees.
After they clean up after dinner, Dean and Castiel go to the living room. Sometimes they play cards or a board game, and other times they read side by side in companionable silence. Dean’s about halfway done with Moby Dick and Castiel’s making his way through Slaughterhouse V.
Other days, when the night is cool and airy and not too humid, they go sit outside on the wicker loveseat on the deck. Dean cracks open a beer while Castiel stares up at the starry night sky as if expecting it to speak to him. It never does.
Eventually, Dean will get tired of Parcheesi or reading or swatting at bugs and he’ll head inside. Sometimes Castiel will stay outside for an hour or two after and crawl into bed without waking Dean. Most nights he follows Dean upstairs, and they lay down on the king size bed together, side by side with no contact and no words.
Castiel’s usually unconscious and snoring within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, but it takes Dean a little longer than that to fall asleep. Some nights, he stares at the ceiling, listening to Castiel breathe and thinking of nothing in particular. Other nights, he rolls over onto his side facing away from Castiel and misses Sam so bad it’s like a physical ache. Most nights, though, he stares at Castiel's stone profile and wonders how his life got to this point.
Onto the next chapter: Some place where there isn't any trouble
850 words, SPN Dean/Castiel slash. Spoilers for all of season 4.
Thanks to zelda_zee for continuing beta and indulgence.
Continuing my Welcome to Oz series. Master post of links here.
Dean gets up every morning at 7:48 sharp;
I can barely hear my heart beating
Dean gets up every morning at 7:48 sharp; it’s always after the second snooze that Castiel starts to kick him under the covers. Dean grumbles but shuts off the alarm dutifully and climbs out of bed into the morning darkness.
Dean stumbles downstairs in his boxers and sets up the coffee pot. Sometimes he remembers to put on a jacket or robe before stepping outside to pick up the newspaper, but most days a startled Mr. Florentine next door gets an eyeful.
Dean sets the paper on the table and pops two slices of bread into the toaster. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and skims the headlines until Castiel makes his way into the kitchen, hair sticking up at odd angles.
Most days, Dean says something like, “Morning,” or “Bad weather today,” or “Your toast is ready.” Castiel usually grunts in return. As it turns out, Castiel’s not really a morning glory. To make up for it, as Castiel’s pouring his own coffee, he also pours Dean a mug the way he likes with a touch of milk and no sugar.
After they’ve finished their breakfast and coffee, Dean and Castiel head back upstairs to get dressed. Their movements around the bedroom are like a strange synchronized dance, moving around each other smoothly without collision or words. Dean slides into jeans and a button-down shirt and Castiel changes from his blue pajama set to khakis and a pressed polo.
“Have a good day,” Castiel says as he stands in the front door of the house, arms hanging down by his sides. Every morning Dean thinks: one of these days, he’s going to teach Castiel how to wave properly when he says that. Every evening when Dean comes back from work, he forgets.
“You too,” Dean replies, nothing fancy. The first few times it was awkward, a daily pleasantry he had to force. But now it’s become a well worn routine, a path through all the days that spiral together like water spinning down a bathtub drain.
Dean usually reaches his store at 8:15. He unlocks the back door, turns on the lights, and sets about preparing for the day. About a half hour later, Sanjay arrives to help move boxes in the storeroom and restock the shelves. At 9:00, Dean flips the sign in the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ and sits behind the counter on a high stool.
A few early birds come around 9:30, but most customers don’t show up until at least 11:00. Noon to 1:00 is always busy on the weekdays, what with people running errands during their lunch hours. Traffic settles down again afterwards and Dean goes to the back office to do some paperwork while Sanjay takes over the counter.
At 2:00, Dean sets Sanjay free and Emma’s shift starts. Occasionally, Dean takes the afternoon off and leaves her to close up, but most days he stays till 6:00 to close out the register and clean up the store with her.
Dean’s usually home by 7:00. There’s almost always a piping hot take out meal from one of the three restaurants in town awaiting him. They’ve got the menus memorized by now and Castiel orders both their favorites without even looking anymore.
As they eat, Dean shares stories about what the customers or Sanjay or Emma did that day. They’re not particularly interesting stories, but Castiel always listens. In return, Castiel talks about walking to the park and trying to learn algebra from a book. Dean always jokes that it’s a good thing Castiel’s only supposed to be teaching 3rd graders, otherwise he’d mathematically screw those kids up for the rest of their lives. Castiel always chuckles and agrees.
After they clean up after dinner, Dean and Castiel go to the living room. Sometimes they play cards or a board game, and other times they read side by side in companionable silence. Dean’s about halfway done with Moby Dick and Castiel’s making his way through Slaughterhouse V.
Other days, when the night is cool and airy and not too humid, they go sit outside on the wicker loveseat on the deck. Dean cracks open a beer while Castiel stares up at the starry night sky as if expecting it to speak to him. It never does.
Eventually, Dean will get tired of Parcheesi or reading or swatting at bugs and he’ll head inside. Sometimes Castiel will stay outside for an hour or two after and crawl into bed without waking Dean. Most nights he follows Dean upstairs, and they lay down on the king size bed together, side by side with no contact and no words.
Castiel’s usually unconscious and snoring within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, but it takes Dean a little longer than that to fall asleep. Some nights, he stares at the ceiling, listening to Castiel breathe and thinking of nothing in particular. Other nights, he rolls over onto his side facing away from Castiel and misses Sam so bad it’s like a physical ache. Most nights, though, he stares at Castiel's stone profile and wonders how his life got to this point.
Onto the next chapter: Some place where there isn't any trouble