Title: April Showers and a Little Sunshine
Title: April Showers and a Little Sunshine (1/3)
Author: saidtheking
Rating: NC-17 (GASP)
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: none after Season Five
Warnings: Continuing in the tradition of this verse, there's so much fluff you'll probably get cavities
Word Count: 5k this part, 14,866 total
Summary: Cas wants to do Easter as dapper as possible - and with Cas in a brand new suit, Dean can't really complain. A little rain and a big fight can't throw off the warm and fuzzies of the holiday, and Dean starts to realize that his new life probably won't be falling apart any time soon. Part of the Ugly Sweater 'Verse.
Part Two, Part Three
Dean hasn't been this sexually frustrated since middle school.
He's sitting in a dressing room on the bench outside one of the changing stalls, mouth slightly agape. He's in Banana Republic, of all places, and the cause of his disoriented mental state and the heat in his lower stomach is his angel, clad in a suit and tie, looking sheepish and eager for feedback. His hair's all messed up from dragging his shirt over his head when he got changed, but he is otherwise orderly and put together. The combination of would-be sex hair and dapper attire has left Dean momentarily speechless.
“Perhaps a different colour tie?” Cas says uneasily, casting furtive glances at the full length mirror behind Dean. Cas' tie is a subdued, pastel pink. His suit isn't tuxedo-formal or anything, but it's still classy as hell. He's wearing a dark blue blazer over a tight black vest and a white button-up shirt, and the way he's biting his lower lip nervously at his reflection is borderline unbearable. Dean's silence seems to be perturbing him.
“Dean.”
Cas' voice, now irritated, snaps Dean out of his reverie.
“Don't change anything, you look fucking h... awesome,” Dean says enthusiastically, standing to his feet and striding over to Cas. He's never asked Cas how he feels about PDA, and they don't make a habit of it (unless they see their over-zealous Republican neighbor - she warrants impromptu near make out sessions on the spot), but Dean currently can't help himself from slipping an arm around Cas' waist and tugging him into a kiss. He's vaguely aware that a public men's dressing room probably isn't the right place for it, but he doesn't care. Still, he tries to keep the fire that he's feeling through his bloodstream out of the kiss. He still hasn't gotten past a drunken one-off hit to second base, and he has a feeling now isn't the best time to push forward.
… But damn if Cas doesn't look good in a suit.
“Even the pink?”
“Especially the pink. It's for Easter, man, you're supposed to be all pastel and shit.”
“Right,” Cas says, fussing with the tie. Dean bats his hands away and straightens the tie, which Cas has inadvertently pushed askew.
“Now take it off,” Dean says. When Cas gives him a peculiar look, he quickly rephrases, feeling his face burn red. “Er - so we can buy it. You have to... yeah. Change clothes.” He clears his throat awkwardly and looks away. Cas looks confused at Dean's strange behavior, but he doesn't comment. He goes back into the stall to change and Dean curses himself at the way his thoughts plummet when he hears Cas' zipper. He's pretty sure this is all Gabriel's fault, somehow, and he really wishes a good ol' stake in the heart would do the guy in. He totally deserves it.
“Now we'll find yours,” Cas says from the other side of the door.
“My what?” Dean asks distractedly, mentally focusing on things that are decidedly not Castiel in a suit. Like wendigos and homicidal grandma ghosts and headless vampires.
“Your suit, Dean,” Cas explains as he opens the door. He's not wearing a sweater, for once, and his frame looks significantly thinner without one. The weather is officially too warm for the cozy clothing Cas has gotten so used to. The angel had been quite unhappy when Dean insisted this morning that Cas change into something lighter because all that fuzzy fabric was making him warm just looking at it. Cas had settled on wearing one of Dean's lighter jackets.
Which, of course, made Dean feel all funny inside too. He's pretty sure he's in heat or something.
“I'll wear one of my Fed ones,” Dean says dismissively. The thought occurs to him that Easter's supposed to be all about Jesus or some shit, but he can't stop picturing his sort-of-boyfriend in high definition incredibly unholy imagery. Complete with soundtrack.
“No. They are not 'pastel and shit',” Cas points out, quoting Dean's words in his characteristic monotone voice that makes it impossible for Dean to take him seriously when he curses.
Dean snorts. “Not really a pastel person, Cas.”
“But it's for Easter, Dean.” There's a certain undertone to Cas' voice that reminds Dean implicitly of Sam when he was little, asking for something he's afraid Dean won't be able to give him. Like money for a field trip when he knows they're broke, or to keep a kitten he knows their motel won't let them have. Like with Sam, Dean finds it very, very difficult to refuse this tone.
“Yeah, well. What would you have me wear?” Dean says, already caving. Cas smiles - and God, does Dean ever love that smile - and flags down one of the men who work in the store. The man is tall and has dark hair along with well manicured stubble. He's beautiful, stunning and is eyeing Cas like he's some sort of meal.
“How may I help you?” the man asks, and he's got a damn Italian accent on top of everything else. Dean's guard is up immediately, feeling his turf being invaded. Cas, blissfully unaware, gestures to Dean.
“He needs something to wear for Easter,” Cas explains, “I presume your advice will be better than mine.”
The man laughs, puts a hand on Cas' shoulder and smiles, all pristine white teeth and charm.
“I'm sure well find something suitable for your friend,” the man says - and that's about it, all Dean needs to step in and defend his territory. He puts an arm around Cas' waist possessively, tugging him subtly away from the man. The man raises his eyebrows in question.
“Yeah, my boyfriend can talk me into just about anything, even a suit. Can't you, Cas?”
Cas says nothing, only looks at Dean with wide, round eyes.
“I am your boyfriend?” Cas asks, and the man laughs again, flashing Dean a sympathetic look. Dean glowers, tightens his grip around Cas until Cas glances down at his hand, frowning subtly.
“Dean?”
“Your friend seems to have had some sort of misunderstanding,” the store clerk says, and Dean sort of wants to rip his lungs out.
“I'm not his friend,” Dean spits, words like acid venom. Cas looks like he's been struck in the face and even the man looks startled. Dean's feeling about as defensive as it gets. The hand not clutching Cas is slowly balling into a fist as he pins the store worker with a glare usually reserved for demons and vampires.
“I don't understand,” Cas says, inching out of Dean's grasp. Dean looks away from his would-be rival to look at Cas, who he hadn't realized now appears distant and withdrawn.
“Should I go?” the store worker asks, Italian accent still so pretty Dean wants to cause him bodily harm at all costs.
“Hell yeah you should,” Dean says, and the man doesn't hesitate to go. Dean turns his full attention to Cas, who is thumbing through a rack of shirts distractedly.
“Cas?”
“You are not my friend, Dean?” Cas says evenly, eyes focused on each shirt as he looks through them. Dean suddenly gets it and his stomach drops. Cas misunderstood and Dean hurt his feelings. He almost curses under his breath, but catches himself - now is not the time to appear exasperated. It is frustrating sometimes, though, dealing with a once cosmic being who has the people skills and social knowledge of a five year old.
“Cas, you're more than my friend,” Dean says gently, easing into Cas' personal space until their shoulders are pressed together. Dean looks at Cas intently until Cas has no choice but to look up from the clothes rack and meet his eyes.
“First off, you're my best fucking friend and I love you almost as much as I love Sammy - which is saying something, seriously - but you're more than that. 'Friend' doesn't cut it.” Dean hates talking about his feelings, of course, and the fact that they're in Banana Republic just makes everything worse. What he's saying feels almost physically painful to vocalize.
“I see,” is all Cas says, and Dean is torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to strangle him. He's like, baring his soul over here and all Cas can say is 'I see' ?
“I think I should start calling you my boyfriend, Cas,” Dean says decisively. Dean's never been sure, exactly, what to call their relationship. In his head, Cas is just 'my angel' or 'my sort-of-boyfriend-thing', but Dean figures now is as good a time as any to clearly define it. Since, y'know, he's already baring his soul and all.
“I would like that,” Cas says, and a genuine smile flickers to his lips. Dean's heart skips a beat - he'd sort of thought Cas would have no opinion on the matter, which would make Dean feel a little stupid for caring so much. It's nice that Cas appreciates the real life equivalent of changing a Facebook setting from 'It's Complicated' to 'In a Relationship' as much as Dean does.
“Good. Now no more talking to seductive Italian men, okay?”
“You were concerned he would... 'seduce' me?”
Dean snorts. “Hell no. Not with me around. Let's buy your stuff, Cas, we'll come back when Mr. Suave over there is off his shift.”
“No, Dean,” Cas says firmly, “That is ridiculous. Buy your clothes now and we won't have to come back.”
“ Cas - ”
“Dean.”
Cas' I-Am-an-Angel-of-the-Lord face is on in two seconds flat and Dean swallows his retorts. Cas is pretty friggin scary when he wants to be, and Dean knows when to pick his battles. Besides, this little shopping excursion counts as a holiday thing, and Dean's learned by now that Cas has final say in holiday things.
Dean gets a tan blazer that is decidedly more dapper than his fed suit, a darker tan vest and a pastel green bow tie that Cas says looks nice with his eyes. Dean can count on his fingers how many times he's worn a bow tie in his life (three), but the way Cas looks at him wearing one now makes him consider the pros and cons of wearing one every friggin day. He feels a little funny all dressed up like this when he's not working on a case, but he can't help but admit that his reflection in the mirror looks pretty damn nice.
Banana Republic bags look out of place in the back seat of the Impala, but Dean's taking it in stride. So much of his life has changed that the few shopping bags he sees in the rear view mirror are hardly worth a thought. For a brief, bizarre minute Dean pictures the back seat with something else entirely - something it hasn't had since Sam was very, very small. He shakes the thought from his head immediately, not even allowing his mind to form the word. He looks visibly unnerved the whole ride home, fists clenching the wheel. Cas looks at him curiously but doesn't ask; he knows Dean well enough to know when he needs his space, even if it doesn't seem to make any sense.
By the time they're home, Dean has thoroughly freaked himself out over how apple pie and domesticated his life has become. For whatever reason, all his internal warnings are kicking in, telling him that this not a life that Dean Winchester can have - deserves to have. He can't get rid of the stupid car seat from his mind, can't get the word out of his mouth where it itches to be spoken about. He's inexplicably angry, again, and all the while Cas is watching this unwarranted turmoil of emotion from surface level.
“Dean?” Cas asks after they've been sitting about a minute in the car, ignition still turned on. Dean seems to snap out of a sort of reverie and he turns off the car. He plasters on a smile, swallowing his anger, and chuckles.
“Spaced out a sec there. Need help with the bags?”
“I'm fine. What's wrong?”
There's a beat where Dean decides how to answer. A flurry of possible lies go through his mind before his mouth blurts out, more roughly than intended, “Put your shit in the house, we're going to Cape May.”
“Cape May... New Jersey? Two hours from here?” Cas asks dubiously.
“Yeah, I was looking through the news last night and they've got clear signs of vampire activity. Don't think there's any hunters in the area.”
Cas opens the door without further word, grabs their bags from the back seat and takes them out to the house. Dean sits back in his chair and rubs his temples with his forefingers, closing his eyes. Cas is back in a flash - Dean suspects he may have thrown the bags on the couch - and is buckling his seat belt before Dean knows it. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't mention the new recipe he'd been telling Dean about earlier, the one he was going to make for dinner. He doesn't say anything, just sits back and gives Dean a look that clearly tells him to drive.
*
It's dark and very late on their drive back, April rain dotting the windshield. The ride back feels even longer than the ride down did. It's spent in tense silence, broken only by the quiet patter of rain against the car. Dean's knuckles are white from how hard he's clutching the steering wheel, eyes fixed sternly on the road.
Cas' right forearm is bandaged from elbow to wrist, wound tight in white bandages. Dean's got several deep scratches on his face and arms, but nothing major. Both boys are covered in blood that is only half their own. Cas has been staring at Dean the majority of the ride. Cas' ability to stare is nothing new to Dean, not out of the ordinary in the least, but it's doing nothing to lighten his mood.
“You have a window for a reason, Cas,” he says finally, exasperated, when the staring has finally gotten to him. Which, admittedly, takes a while. It's strange how used to it he's gotten.
“You're brooding, Dean.”
Dean says nothing, just focuses on the long and empty road ahead of them.
“This is because I was injured.” It's not a question; it's a statement. Dean doesn't say anything for a while, just drives and drives while Cas stares.
“Well, shit, Cas, of course it is,” he snaps at last, meeting Cas' eyes for the first time since they got in the car. “I could have gotten you fucking killed.”
“We're hunters, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean winces. “Danger is generally expected.”
Dean thinks back to their battle with the vampire - which had turned out to be three vampires, once they got there - of the way Cas' face went distorted with pain when the vampire flung itself at him and sank its teeth in his flesh. Dean remembers the surge of adrenaline he felt, the store his body reserves for when people he loves are directly in threat of being killed (never, y'know, a minute or two ahead of time for God's sake). He'd been on the ground, then, halfway across the room, but he managed to scramble to his feet and stick a machete through the ugly son of a bitch's neck before he could do any lasting damage. Cas had returned the favor almost immediately, hacking off the head of the vampire who had snuck up behind Dean in his process of heroism. Dean had been pretty impressed at the time; Cas killed the thing left-handed because the pain throbbing through his right was too great.
Now, though, he can feel nothing but revulsion.
“Not for you, Cas,” Dean answers and Cas' eyebrows narrow, confusion slowly replaced with something else.
“What do you mean?”
“You're - shit, Cas. This?” Dean gestures to Cas' injury “This, right here? This should never happen. You're - you were an angel, Cas, you could take those sons of bitches out with your pinky. But now - ” Dean thinks back to the first day they met, when he'd wanted nothing more than to gank Cas like every other monster he'd ever met. He remembers sending bullets at him, lunging a knife into his chest. “Because of me, you're not an angel anymore. You can't heal yourself. You're mortal. I did this to you.”
This is all my fucking -”
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over,” Cas growls, putting a hand on the steering wheel as if to demonstrate that he'll willingly do it himself. Dean obeys, too startled to really process what's going on. As soon as he puts the car in park, Cas is out of the car and rounding to Dean's side. He pulls open Dean's door and drags him out by the lapels of his jacket. He shoves him against the back door, glaring at him viciously.
“Don't ever let me hear you say that again,” Cas says, fire in his words so great it renders Dean speechless. He's in Dean's face, leaving no choice but to look him in the eyes. Cas is still remarkably strong, despite his relative slightness in physique. It's as though his muscle memory remembers that it once had incredible strength, and is clinging to that.
“You didn't do anything to me, Dean Winchester. Or do you think me to be some small child you coerced into sin? Impressionable and easily manipulated? I chose this, Dean.” Cas gives the slightest shake of Dean's jacket in his fists, as if to reiterate the point. Out here in the dark and rain, the low growl of his voice sounds even more intimidating. “Thousands and thousands of years of rigid obedience. Do you really think I'd throw it away without thinking?”
Dean makes a small sound, tries to avoid Cas' eyes and fails.
“I love you, Dean. A thousand injuries are nothing compared to the happiness I've found with you. So shut up. This whining is pathetic.”
“Cas -”
“Now get in the car and drive us home.”
*
It's nearly midnight when they get back, and the rain has picked up to a much harder downpour. The porch light is on, though, making their flat look like a warm and inviting beacon.
Cas starts to get out of the car and notices that Dean isn't following.
“You go ahead, Cas, I'll be back in an hour or so.”
“Where are you going?”
“Tough hunt, man. I need a drink. I won't be gone long, don't wait up-”
“No. Turn off the car. You're coming inside and watching Lilo and Stitch with me. I will make us hot chocolate and we'll finish the brownies in the fridge.”
“Cas-”
“And then you'll kiss me because you've irritated me very thoroughly today.”
“... Hm. That so?”
“Yes. You have to make me forgive you.”
Dean sighs, cracks his neck and turns the key in the ignition, turning it off. Then, swiftly, he leans over and kisses Cas, slipping a hand to his cheek. Cas reciprocates immediately and the kiss soon blurs into a series of kisses. Dean can feel Cas' pink, chapped lips grow puffy from all the attention and he smiles as their lips connect. Whatever doubts he may have had ease away. He feels childish.
“It's cold,” Cas says, just as Dean's thinking about going for tongue and maybe doing something about all his sexual frustration (which had been momentarily forgotten in all of today's manly angst). Dean successfully pushes down a groan of irritation before opening his door. He'd forgotten about the rain, which pours on his head adamantly as soon as he steps out of the car. He darts to the sidewalk and Cas takes off his trench coat quickly and puts it over both their heads. They make a run for the porch and, thanks to the coat, are only slightly waterlogged.
“Tomorrow we go shopping for Easter lawn decorations,” Cas mentions as Dean puts the key in the lock.
Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes.
*
The following day breaks with bright blue skies and sunshine, leaving the damp sidewalks and wet grass as the only indication that there was ever rain at all. Dean wakes up curled up next to Cas, legs loosely tangled. Cas is already awake, propped up on an elbow and running his fingers absently through Dean's hair.
“Morning,” Dean mumbles, groggy.
“Good morning, Dean.”
“... c'mere,” Dean says and reaches out his arms. Cas accepts the embrace and cuddles in, his back pressed against Dean's chest. Dean nuzzles his nose into the back of Cas' neck and presses kisses there.
“'m sorry,” Dean murmurs into Cas' hair, “for being a dick all the time and whatever.”
Cas grabs Dean's hands and laces their fingers together.
“You wouldn't be you if you weren't. I forgive you.”
There's a peaceful quiet for a while. Dean revels in the way he can feel Cas' breathing through his chest, likes how soft Cas' fingers are. His boyfriend's fingers are. He likes that he can say that now.
“Do you forgive me enough to make me breakfast?” Dean asks after a bit. Cas chuckles.
“Yes - as long as you come with me today. I have a long list of things to buy.” Cas sits up, stretching for a moment before standing up. Only then does he notice that Cas is wearing boxers and one of Dean's t shirts. Dean clears his throat, looks away from the bit of Cas' back that is exposed when he stretches.
“Augh, fine. Just no more candles!”
Cas pauses mid-step on his way to the kitchen.
“But, Dean -”
“We just got new candles like four days ago.”
“They weren't Easter candles, Dean!”
Dean groans. He wasn't even aware Easter candles existed. He reminds himself that it's a holiday thing and that Cas has free reign here, so he just shrugs and clambers out of bed himself.
“Whatever you say, Martha Stewart.”
*
Dean is pretty sure that Cas could singlehandedly keep the Holiday Store in the mall in business, just by the sheer amount of time and money they spend there. After the first half hour they spend sniffing candles - they're Easter egg shaped and smell like cake and tulips and other festive things like that - Dean's just about had it with the store. He gives Cas a kiss on the forehead and tells him that he's going to lose his marbles and gank the nearest Easter bunny if he doesn't get out of the store soon. Cas nods understandingly and suggests that Dean walk the mall.
Dean returns an hour later to find Cas at the register, heavy-laden with bags. Dean rushes to his aid, grabbing the largest one. Dean has his own bag, which he adjusts so he can hold the new one as well He inspects the Cas' bag's contents as they walk out of the store.
“You seriously found light up lawn ornaments for Easter? Dude, I've never even heard of those. I thought that was a Christmas thing. And then after Valentine's Day I thought it was, y'know, a Christmas and Valentine's Day thing - they seriously make outside light up bunnies and Easter baskets?”
“Obviously,” Cas says, gesturing toward the bag. Dean rolls his eyes. Cas notices the other bag in Dean's hand and eyes it curiously.
“What is that?”
“Uh. Gift for you.” He puts the bigger bag down when they reach the car and fumbles through his pockets, busying himself with his keys to hide the inexplicable blush adding a pink tinge to his sandy freckles.
Cas' expression doesn't change, but Dean notices the way his eyes light up. He decides that it's a good look on Cas, that sort of eager curiosity, and he's pleased he's the one that put it there.
“What else did you get?” Dean asks once they're in the car and on the road. Cas looks through the bags, taking inventory.
“The Easter egg candles, as you know. The store worker said they're very potent and the house will smell nice instantly. I have several Easter rabbits to put on the coffee table and bookshelf and kitchen counters and -”
“Basically every free surface in the house, I'm guessing.”
“Well. Yes. I got a new apron as well. It has rabbits on it.”
“I'm guessing you like bunnies, eh?”
“Yes. I think they may be my favorite animal. Aside from humans, that is. I bought us plastic Easter eggs and an egg dyeing kit. I've invited Bobby, Sheriff Mills, Sam and Sarah to Easter dinner and I'll devil the eggs after we've colored them. Why do people color them, anyway, Dean? I don't understand that part.”
“Dude, no one does. It makes absolutely no sense.”
“I don't really understand anything about this holiday, considering it is said to be about the supposed resurrection of Jesus, yet is celebrated with bunnies and... eggs.”
“Beats me, man. But hey, it's colorful and there's a lot of gratuitous chocolate, so what the hell?”
Cas nods. “It's a foolish holiday, but I am fond of it anyway. I also bought tulips to plant in the front yard. I think that's it.”
They pull up to their flat and carry their bags in, setting them on the couch so Cas can take everything out and decide where it goes. No sooner do they set the Holiday Store bags down does Cas round on Dean and pluck the other bag from his hands. Dean just chuckles.
“Only compromise is that you're not allowed to wear it out of the house, okay?”
Inside the bag is a thin, white sweater, appropriate for the newly warm Spring weather. The novelty of it is that it has a hood, and on the hood is a pair of floppy fabric bunny ears. Cas pulls it on at once, putting the hood up and letting the ears flop over his face. He looks absolutely ridiculous and equally adorable, and Dean can't fight the grin that etches its way onto his face.
“I'm wearing this everywhere, Dean,” Cas says seriously, giving one of the ears a tentative tug.
“No way, man. You look like a nerd.”
“You've always called me a nerd,” Cas points out. “ 'Nerd angel',” he quotes, air quotes and all.
“Touche. You're gonna kill my rep with that, though. My boyfriend the Easter bunny. I'll lose all my street cred.”
“Street cred?” Cas muses, crossing the distance between them and putting a hand on Dean's waist. “Overrated.” He kisses Dean, a soft little thing that reminds Dean somewhat of a rabbit, for whatever reason. Dean wraps both arms around Cas' waist and kisses him back.
“Maybe,” Dean says, “I've got something better, anyway.”
“Hm, really? And what's that?”
“You.”
*
Cas is all dirty and Dean loves it.
It's the day before Easter and they're outside in the front yard, both kneeling in the flower bed outside the porch of their flat, bearing spades and covered in dirt. Turns out that the earth in the tiny flower bed was hard and inhospitable to incoming plants, so Dean and Cas had to dig up quite a lot of it in order to soften the ground. They figured adding water would help their cause, but today is the first time they've used the hose that came with the flat and they weren't aware that the water pressure was so intense. They ended up with a veritable ocean of mud. Cas got the worst of it; he made the mistake of staying in the flower bed when Dean turned on the hose, not anticipating the intensity of water flow, and was splattered with mud. Dean's only dirty because Cas threw some at him in protest.
There's mud on the tulips, too, and the whole flower bed looks like an awful mess. Dean's having a little trouble caring, though; Cas is wearing a tight white tank top and a pair of old jeans and Dean has lost the ability to think clearly. Cas' palms are black with dirt and there's smears of mud on his face. All in all, Cas as a gardener is sexy as fuck and Dean was not prepared for their little Easter activity to leave him - yet again - painfully sexually frustrated.
Cas sits back on his heels and observes their handiwork. “They're about as appealing as our Christmas tree was,” he remarks, attempting to swipe some dirt from one of the flower petals and only further smudging it.
“It's got Winchester appeal. A little rough around the edges but there's some charm there.”
“Perhaps. If nothing else, it brings color to the flat.”
“... Cas. Our front lawn is lit up every night with glowing bunny lights. Don't think we're lacking for color here, man.”
“Natural color, Dean.”
“You're such a girl, dude. I need to keep you away from Sam.”
Cas scowls. Dean notes that Cas is kinda hot when he does that, too, and he mentally adds 'angry sex' to the steadily building list of fantasies he has regarding Cas. His eyes dart to Cas' lips, bright pink and chapped as ever. Cas notices.
“What are you thinking about, Dean?”
Dean clears his throat and swallows hard.
“Uh - church,” Dean evades quickly, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you making us go to church Sunday? For Easter mass or whatever? Cause I hate to break it to you man, but they're not the most gay-friendly places in the world, especially around here.”
Cas shakes his head.
“We're going to church - ” Dean groans at this “- but not to a Christian service. I don't want to spend my holiday amongst people who would make us uncomfortable, but I do want to do everything that the holiday includes.”
“But Cas -”
“Holidays are my domain, Dean. This is my first year immersed in humanity. Let me explore it. We're going to church.”
“Whatever you say, Cas,” Dean grumbles.
They end up laying in the grass of their front yard, staring at the blue sky overhead. The whole world smells of Spring and rebirth; the grass has a fresh scent to it that makes everything feel brand new. Dean takes Cas' hand as he searches for pictures in the clouds.
“I know that's not what you were thinking about, by the way,” Cas says offhand after several minutes in quiet tranquility. Dean blanches.
“Er, what are you talking about?”
“You know, Dean. And I'm still interested. I think about it, too.”
Cas gets up, then, and walks into the house. Dean lays there a while longer, brain going over and over Cas' statement, psychoanalyzing it. I think about it, too. He closes his eyes and thinks about the implications of that. A shiver runs down his spine.
He really, really needs to get on that.
*
Cas falls asleep in a pair of boxers and his bunny sweater, hood up and ears draped across his face. He's the picture of innocence in sleep, and Dean wonders at how this man can be at once the scariest and cutest thing he's ever met. He lays in bed til he's sure Cas is asleep and then sneaks off to the kitchen to put Cas' Easter basket together. He fills it with all the essentials - chocolate bunnies, caramel filled Easter eggs and Peeps. He hasn't had a proper Easter since before his mom died, but he's pretty sure he's covered all the basics.
He shuts off the kitchen light and takes another peek at his angel. He can see him faintly in the light of the three candles he's left burning for Dean before he goes to sleep. He chuckles at the sight of the bunny ears. Figures Cas would like such a dorky thing, figures his favorite animal would be a rabbit.
With that thought, an idea strikes him. He grabs his coat and his keys and slips out the door, casting one last fond smile at Cas before he leaves.
Part Two
Author: saidtheking
Rating: NC-17 (GASP)
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Spoilers: none after Season Five
Warnings: Continuing in the tradition of this verse, there's so much fluff you'll probably get cavities
Word Count: 5k this part, 14,866 total
Summary: Cas wants to do Easter as dapper as possible - and with Cas in a brand new suit, Dean can't really complain. A little rain and a big fight can't throw off the warm and fuzzies of the holiday, and Dean starts to realize that his new life probably won't be falling apart any time soon. Part of the Ugly Sweater 'Verse.
Part Two, Part Three
Dean hasn't been this sexually frustrated since middle school.
He's sitting in a dressing room on the bench outside one of the changing stalls, mouth slightly agape. He's in Banana Republic, of all places, and the cause of his disoriented mental state and the heat in his lower stomach is his angel, clad in a suit and tie, looking sheepish and eager for feedback. His hair's all messed up from dragging his shirt over his head when he got changed, but he is otherwise orderly and put together. The combination of would-be sex hair and dapper attire has left Dean momentarily speechless.
“Perhaps a different colour tie?” Cas says uneasily, casting furtive glances at the full length mirror behind Dean. Cas' tie is a subdued, pastel pink. His suit isn't tuxedo-formal or anything, but it's still classy as hell. He's wearing a dark blue blazer over a tight black vest and a white button-up shirt, and the way he's biting his lower lip nervously at his reflection is borderline unbearable. Dean's silence seems to be perturbing him.
“Dean.”
Cas' voice, now irritated, snaps Dean out of his reverie.
“Don't change anything, you look fucking h... awesome,” Dean says enthusiastically, standing to his feet and striding over to Cas. He's never asked Cas how he feels about PDA, and they don't make a habit of it (unless they see their over-zealous Republican neighbor - she warrants impromptu near make out sessions on the spot), but Dean currently can't help himself from slipping an arm around Cas' waist and tugging him into a kiss. He's vaguely aware that a public men's dressing room probably isn't the right place for it, but he doesn't care. Still, he tries to keep the fire that he's feeling through his bloodstream out of the kiss. He still hasn't gotten past a drunken one-off hit to second base, and he has a feeling now isn't the best time to push forward.
… But damn if Cas doesn't look good in a suit.
“Even the pink?”
“Especially the pink. It's for Easter, man, you're supposed to be all pastel and shit.”
“Right,” Cas says, fussing with the tie. Dean bats his hands away and straightens the tie, which Cas has inadvertently pushed askew.
“Now take it off,” Dean says. When Cas gives him a peculiar look, he quickly rephrases, feeling his face burn red. “Er - so we can buy it. You have to... yeah. Change clothes.” He clears his throat awkwardly and looks away. Cas looks confused at Dean's strange behavior, but he doesn't comment. He goes back into the stall to change and Dean curses himself at the way his thoughts plummet when he hears Cas' zipper. He's pretty sure this is all Gabriel's fault, somehow, and he really wishes a good ol' stake in the heart would do the guy in. He totally deserves it.
“Now we'll find yours,” Cas says from the other side of the door.
“My what?” Dean asks distractedly, mentally focusing on things that are decidedly not Castiel in a suit. Like wendigos and homicidal grandma ghosts and headless vampires.
“Your suit, Dean,” Cas explains as he opens the door. He's not wearing a sweater, for once, and his frame looks significantly thinner without one. The weather is officially too warm for the cozy clothing Cas has gotten so used to. The angel had been quite unhappy when Dean insisted this morning that Cas change into something lighter because all that fuzzy fabric was making him warm just looking at it. Cas had settled on wearing one of Dean's lighter jackets.
Which, of course, made Dean feel all funny inside too. He's pretty sure he's in heat or something.
“I'll wear one of my Fed ones,” Dean says dismissively. The thought occurs to him that Easter's supposed to be all about Jesus or some shit, but he can't stop picturing his sort-of-boyfriend in high definition incredibly unholy imagery. Complete with soundtrack.
“No. They are not 'pastel and shit',” Cas points out, quoting Dean's words in his characteristic monotone voice that makes it impossible for Dean to take him seriously when he curses.
Dean snorts. “Not really a pastel person, Cas.”
“But it's for Easter, Dean.” There's a certain undertone to Cas' voice that reminds Dean implicitly of Sam when he was little, asking for something he's afraid Dean won't be able to give him. Like money for a field trip when he knows they're broke, or to keep a kitten he knows their motel won't let them have. Like with Sam, Dean finds it very, very difficult to refuse this tone.
“Yeah, well. What would you have me wear?” Dean says, already caving. Cas smiles - and God, does Dean ever love that smile - and flags down one of the men who work in the store. The man is tall and has dark hair along with well manicured stubble. He's beautiful, stunning and is eyeing Cas like he's some sort of meal.
“How may I help you?” the man asks, and he's got a damn Italian accent on top of everything else. Dean's guard is up immediately, feeling his turf being invaded. Cas, blissfully unaware, gestures to Dean.
“He needs something to wear for Easter,” Cas explains, “I presume your advice will be better than mine.”
The man laughs, puts a hand on Cas' shoulder and smiles, all pristine white teeth and charm.
“I'm sure well find something suitable for your friend,” the man says - and that's about it, all Dean needs to step in and defend his territory. He puts an arm around Cas' waist possessively, tugging him subtly away from the man. The man raises his eyebrows in question.
“Yeah, my boyfriend can talk me into just about anything, even a suit. Can't you, Cas?”
Cas says nothing, only looks at Dean with wide, round eyes.
“I am your boyfriend?” Cas asks, and the man laughs again, flashing Dean a sympathetic look. Dean glowers, tightens his grip around Cas until Cas glances down at his hand, frowning subtly.
“Dean?”
“Your friend seems to have had some sort of misunderstanding,” the store clerk says, and Dean sort of wants to rip his lungs out.
“I'm not his friend,” Dean spits, words like acid venom. Cas looks like he's been struck in the face and even the man looks startled. Dean's feeling about as defensive as it gets. The hand not clutching Cas is slowly balling into a fist as he pins the store worker with a glare usually reserved for demons and vampires.
“I don't understand,” Cas says, inching out of Dean's grasp. Dean looks away from his would-be rival to look at Cas, who he hadn't realized now appears distant and withdrawn.
“Should I go?” the store worker asks, Italian accent still so pretty Dean wants to cause him bodily harm at all costs.
“Hell yeah you should,” Dean says, and the man doesn't hesitate to go. Dean turns his full attention to Cas, who is thumbing through a rack of shirts distractedly.
“Cas?”
“You are not my friend, Dean?” Cas says evenly, eyes focused on each shirt as he looks through them. Dean suddenly gets it and his stomach drops. Cas misunderstood and Dean hurt his feelings. He almost curses under his breath, but catches himself - now is not the time to appear exasperated. It is frustrating sometimes, though, dealing with a once cosmic being who has the people skills and social knowledge of a five year old.
“Cas, you're more than my friend,” Dean says gently, easing into Cas' personal space until their shoulders are pressed together. Dean looks at Cas intently until Cas has no choice but to look up from the clothes rack and meet his eyes.
“First off, you're my best fucking friend and I love you almost as much as I love Sammy - which is saying something, seriously - but you're more than that. 'Friend' doesn't cut it.” Dean hates talking about his feelings, of course, and the fact that they're in Banana Republic just makes everything worse. What he's saying feels almost physically painful to vocalize.
“I see,” is all Cas says, and Dean is torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to strangle him. He's like, baring his soul over here and all Cas can say is 'I see' ?
“I think I should start calling you my boyfriend, Cas,” Dean says decisively. Dean's never been sure, exactly, what to call their relationship. In his head, Cas is just 'my angel' or 'my sort-of-boyfriend-thing', but Dean figures now is as good a time as any to clearly define it. Since, y'know, he's already baring his soul and all.
“I would like that,” Cas says, and a genuine smile flickers to his lips. Dean's heart skips a beat - he'd sort of thought Cas would have no opinion on the matter, which would make Dean feel a little stupid for caring so much. It's nice that Cas appreciates the real life equivalent of changing a Facebook setting from 'It's Complicated' to 'In a Relationship' as much as Dean does.
“Good. Now no more talking to seductive Italian men, okay?”
“You were concerned he would... 'seduce' me?”
Dean snorts. “Hell no. Not with me around. Let's buy your stuff, Cas, we'll come back when Mr. Suave over there is off his shift.”
“No, Dean,” Cas says firmly, “That is ridiculous. Buy your clothes now and we won't have to come back.”
“ Cas - ”
“Dean.”
Cas' I-Am-an-Angel-of-the-Lord face is on in two seconds flat and Dean swallows his retorts. Cas is pretty friggin scary when he wants to be, and Dean knows when to pick his battles. Besides, this little shopping excursion counts as a holiday thing, and Dean's learned by now that Cas has final say in holiday things.
Dean gets a tan blazer that is decidedly more dapper than his fed suit, a darker tan vest and a pastel green bow tie that Cas says looks nice with his eyes. Dean can count on his fingers how many times he's worn a bow tie in his life (three), but the way Cas looks at him wearing one now makes him consider the pros and cons of wearing one every friggin day. He feels a little funny all dressed up like this when he's not working on a case, but he can't help but admit that his reflection in the mirror looks pretty damn nice.
Banana Republic bags look out of place in the back seat of the Impala, but Dean's taking it in stride. So much of his life has changed that the few shopping bags he sees in the rear view mirror are hardly worth a thought. For a brief, bizarre minute Dean pictures the back seat with something else entirely - something it hasn't had since Sam was very, very small. He shakes the thought from his head immediately, not even allowing his mind to form the word. He looks visibly unnerved the whole ride home, fists clenching the wheel. Cas looks at him curiously but doesn't ask; he knows Dean well enough to know when he needs his space, even if it doesn't seem to make any sense.
By the time they're home, Dean has thoroughly freaked himself out over how apple pie and domesticated his life has become. For whatever reason, all his internal warnings are kicking in, telling him that this not a life that Dean Winchester can have - deserves to have. He can't get rid of the stupid car seat from his mind, can't get the word out of his mouth where it itches to be spoken about. He's inexplicably angry, again, and all the while Cas is watching this unwarranted turmoil of emotion from surface level.
“Dean?” Cas asks after they've been sitting about a minute in the car, ignition still turned on. Dean seems to snap out of a sort of reverie and he turns off the car. He plasters on a smile, swallowing his anger, and chuckles.
“Spaced out a sec there. Need help with the bags?”
“I'm fine. What's wrong?”
There's a beat where Dean decides how to answer. A flurry of possible lies go through his mind before his mouth blurts out, more roughly than intended, “Put your shit in the house, we're going to Cape May.”
“Cape May... New Jersey? Two hours from here?” Cas asks dubiously.
“Yeah, I was looking through the news last night and they've got clear signs of vampire activity. Don't think there's any hunters in the area.”
Cas opens the door without further word, grabs their bags from the back seat and takes them out to the house. Dean sits back in his chair and rubs his temples with his forefingers, closing his eyes. Cas is back in a flash - Dean suspects he may have thrown the bags on the couch - and is buckling his seat belt before Dean knows it. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't mention the new recipe he'd been telling Dean about earlier, the one he was going to make for dinner. He doesn't say anything, just sits back and gives Dean a look that clearly tells him to drive.
*
It's dark and very late on their drive back, April rain dotting the windshield. The ride back feels even longer than the ride down did. It's spent in tense silence, broken only by the quiet patter of rain against the car. Dean's knuckles are white from how hard he's clutching the steering wheel, eyes fixed sternly on the road.
Cas' right forearm is bandaged from elbow to wrist, wound tight in white bandages. Dean's got several deep scratches on his face and arms, but nothing major. Both boys are covered in blood that is only half their own. Cas has been staring at Dean the majority of the ride. Cas' ability to stare is nothing new to Dean, not out of the ordinary in the least, but it's doing nothing to lighten his mood.
“You have a window for a reason, Cas,” he says finally, exasperated, when the staring has finally gotten to him. Which, admittedly, takes a while. It's strange how used to it he's gotten.
“You're brooding, Dean.”
Dean says nothing, just focuses on the long and empty road ahead of them.
“This is because I was injured.” It's not a question; it's a statement. Dean doesn't say anything for a while, just drives and drives while Cas stares.
“Well, shit, Cas, of course it is,” he snaps at last, meeting Cas' eyes for the first time since they got in the car. “I could have gotten you fucking killed.”
“We're hunters, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean winces. “Danger is generally expected.”
Dean thinks back to their battle with the vampire - which had turned out to be three vampires, once they got there - of the way Cas' face went distorted with pain when the vampire flung itself at him and sank its teeth in his flesh. Dean remembers the surge of adrenaline he felt, the store his body reserves for when people he loves are directly in threat of being killed (never, y'know, a minute or two ahead of time for God's sake). He'd been on the ground, then, halfway across the room, but he managed to scramble to his feet and stick a machete through the ugly son of a bitch's neck before he could do any lasting damage. Cas had returned the favor almost immediately, hacking off the head of the vampire who had snuck up behind Dean in his process of heroism. Dean had been pretty impressed at the time; Cas killed the thing left-handed because the pain throbbing through his right was too great.
Now, though, he can feel nothing but revulsion.
“Not for you, Cas,” Dean answers and Cas' eyebrows narrow, confusion slowly replaced with something else.
“What do you mean?”
“You're - shit, Cas. This?” Dean gestures to Cas' injury “This, right here? This should never happen. You're - you were an angel, Cas, you could take those sons of bitches out with your pinky. But now - ” Dean thinks back to the first day they met, when he'd wanted nothing more than to gank Cas like every other monster he'd ever met. He remembers sending bullets at him, lunging a knife into his chest. “Because of me, you're not an angel anymore. You can't heal yourself. You're mortal. I did this to you.”
This is all my fucking -”
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over,” Cas growls, putting a hand on the steering wheel as if to demonstrate that he'll willingly do it himself. Dean obeys, too startled to really process what's going on. As soon as he puts the car in park, Cas is out of the car and rounding to Dean's side. He pulls open Dean's door and drags him out by the lapels of his jacket. He shoves him against the back door, glaring at him viciously.
“Don't ever let me hear you say that again,” Cas says, fire in his words so great it renders Dean speechless. He's in Dean's face, leaving no choice but to look him in the eyes. Cas is still remarkably strong, despite his relative slightness in physique. It's as though his muscle memory remembers that it once had incredible strength, and is clinging to that.
“You didn't do anything to me, Dean Winchester. Or do you think me to be some small child you coerced into sin? Impressionable and easily manipulated? I chose this, Dean.” Cas gives the slightest shake of Dean's jacket in his fists, as if to reiterate the point. Out here in the dark and rain, the low growl of his voice sounds even more intimidating. “Thousands and thousands of years of rigid obedience. Do you really think I'd throw it away without thinking?”
Dean makes a small sound, tries to avoid Cas' eyes and fails.
“I love you, Dean. A thousand injuries are nothing compared to the happiness I've found with you. So shut up. This whining is pathetic.”
“Cas -”
“Now get in the car and drive us home.”
*
It's nearly midnight when they get back, and the rain has picked up to a much harder downpour. The porch light is on, though, making their flat look like a warm and inviting beacon.
Cas starts to get out of the car and notices that Dean isn't following.
“You go ahead, Cas, I'll be back in an hour or so.”
“Where are you going?”
“Tough hunt, man. I need a drink. I won't be gone long, don't wait up-”
“No. Turn off the car. You're coming inside and watching Lilo and Stitch with me. I will make us hot chocolate and we'll finish the brownies in the fridge.”
“Cas-”
“And then you'll kiss me because you've irritated me very thoroughly today.”
“... Hm. That so?”
“Yes. You have to make me forgive you.”
Dean sighs, cracks his neck and turns the key in the ignition, turning it off. Then, swiftly, he leans over and kisses Cas, slipping a hand to his cheek. Cas reciprocates immediately and the kiss soon blurs into a series of kisses. Dean can feel Cas' pink, chapped lips grow puffy from all the attention and he smiles as their lips connect. Whatever doubts he may have had ease away. He feels childish.
“It's cold,” Cas says, just as Dean's thinking about going for tongue and maybe doing something about all his sexual frustration (which had been momentarily forgotten in all of today's manly angst). Dean successfully pushes down a groan of irritation before opening his door. He'd forgotten about the rain, which pours on his head adamantly as soon as he steps out of the car. He darts to the sidewalk and Cas takes off his trench coat quickly and puts it over both their heads. They make a run for the porch and, thanks to the coat, are only slightly waterlogged.
“Tomorrow we go shopping for Easter lawn decorations,” Cas mentions as Dean puts the key in the lock.
Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes.
*
The following day breaks with bright blue skies and sunshine, leaving the damp sidewalks and wet grass as the only indication that there was ever rain at all. Dean wakes up curled up next to Cas, legs loosely tangled. Cas is already awake, propped up on an elbow and running his fingers absently through Dean's hair.
“Morning,” Dean mumbles, groggy.
“Good morning, Dean.”
“... c'mere,” Dean says and reaches out his arms. Cas accepts the embrace and cuddles in, his back pressed against Dean's chest. Dean nuzzles his nose into the back of Cas' neck and presses kisses there.
“'m sorry,” Dean murmurs into Cas' hair, “for being a dick all the time and whatever.”
Cas grabs Dean's hands and laces their fingers together.
“You wouldn't be you if you weren't. I forgive you.”
There's a peaceful quiet for a while. Dean revels in the way he can feel Cas' breathing through his chest, likes how soft Cas' fingers are. His boyfriend's fingers are. He likes that he can say that now.
“Do you forgive me enough to make me breakfast?” Dean asks after a bit. Cas chuckles.
“Yes - as long as you come with me today. I have a long list of things to buy.” Cas sits up, stretching for a moment before standing up. Only then does he notice that Cas is wearing boxers and one of Dean's t shirts. Dean clears his throat, looks away from the bit of Cas' back that is exposed when he stretches.
“Augh, fine. Just no more candles!”
Cas pauses mid-step on his way to the kitchen.
“But, Dean -”
“We just got new candles like four days ago.”
“They weren't Easter candles, Dean!”
Dean groans. He wasn't even aware Easter candles existed. He reminds himself that it's a holiday thing and that Cas has free reign here, so he just shrugs and clambers out of bed himself.
“Whatever you say, Martha Stewart.”
*
Dean is pretty sure that Cas could singlehandedly keep the Holiday Store in the mall in business, just by the sheer amount of time and money they spend there. After the first half hour they spend sniffing candles - they're Easter egg shaped and smell like cake and tulips and other festive things like that - Dean's just about had it with the store. He gives Cas a kiss on the forehead and tells him that he's going to lose his marbles and gank the nearest Easter bunny if he doesn't get out of the store soon. Cas nods understandingly and suggests that Dean walk the mall.
Dean returns an hour later to find Cas at the register, heavy-laden with bags. Dean rushes to his aid, grabbing the largest one. Dean has his own bag, which he adjusts so he can hold the new one as well He inspects the Cas' bag's contents as they walk out of the store.
“You seriously found light up lawn ornaments for Easter? Dude, I've never even heard of those. I thought that was a Christmas thing. And then after Valentine's Day I thought it was, y'know, a Christmas and Valentine's Day thing - they seriously make outside light up bunnies and Easter baskets?”
“Obviously,” Cas says, gesturing toward the bag. Dean rolls his eyes. Cas notices the other bag in Dean's hand and eyes it curiously.
“What is that?”
“Uh. Gift for you.” He puts the bigger bag down when they reach the car and fumbles through his pockets, busying himself with his keys to hide the inexplicable blush adding a pink tinge to his sandy freckles.
Cas' expression doesn't change, but Dean notices the way his eyes light up. He decides that it's a good look on Cas, that sort of eager curiosity, and he's pleased he's the one that put it there.
“What else did you get?” Dean asks once they're in the car and on the road. Cas looks through the bags, taking inventory.
“The Easter egg candles, as you know. The store worker said they're very potent and the house will smell nice instantly. I have several Easter rabbits to put on the coffee table and bookshelf and kitchen counters and -”
“Basically every free surface in the house, I'm guessing.”
“Well. Yes. I got a new apron as well. It has rabbits on it.”
“I'm guessing you like bunnies, eh?”
“Yes. I think they may be my favorite animal. Aside from humans, that is. I bought us plastic Easter eggs and an egg dyeing kit. I've invited Bobby, Sheriff Mills, Sam and Sarah to Easter dinner and I'll devil the eggs after we've colored them. Why do people color them, anyway, Dean? I don't understand that part.”
“Dude, no one does. It makes absolutely no sense.”
“I don't really understand anything about this holiday, considering it is said to be about the supposed resurrection of Jesus, yet is celebrated with bunnies and... eggs.”
“Beats me, man. But hey, it's colorful and there's a lot of gratuitous chocolate, so what the hell?”
Cas nods. “It's a foolish holiday, but I am fond of it anyway. I also bought tulips to plant in the front yard. I think that's it.”
They pull up to their flat and carry their bags in, setting them on the couch so Cas can take everything out and decide where it goes. No sooner do they set the Holiday Store bags down does Cas round on Dean and pluck the other bag from his hands. Dean just chuckles.
“Only compromise is that you're not allowed to wear it out of the house, okay?”
Inside the bag is a thin, white sweater, appropriate for the newly warm Spring weather. The novelty of it is that it has a hood, and on the hood is a pair of floppy fabric bunny ears. Cas pulls it on at once, putting the hood up and letting the ears flop over his face. He looks absolutely ridiculous and equally adorable, and Dean can't fight the grin that etches its way onto his face.
“I'm wearing this everywhere, Dean,” Cas says seriously, giving one of the ears a tentative tug.
“No way, man. You look like a nerd.”
“You've always called me a nerd,” Cas points out. “ 'Nerd angel',” he quotes, air quotes and all.
“Touche. You're gonna kill my rep with that, though. My boyfriend the Easter bunny. I'll lose all my street cred.”
“Street cred?” Cas muses, crossing the distance between them and putting a hand on Dean's waist. “Overrated.” He kisses Dean, a soft little thing that reminds Dean somewhat of a rabbit, for whatever reason. Dean wraps both arms around Cas' waist and kisses him back.
“Maybe,” Dean says, “I've got something better, anyway.”
“Hm, really? And what's that?”
“You.”
*
Cas is all dirty and Dean loves it.
It's the day before Easter and they're outside in the front yard, both kneeling in the flower bed outside the porch of their flat, bearing spades and covered in dirt. Turns out that the earth in the tiny flower bed was hard and inhospitable to incoming plants, so Dean and Cas had to dig up quite a lot of it in order to soften the ground. They figured adding water would help their cause, but today is the first time they've used the hose that came with the flat and they weren't aware that the water pressure was so intense. They ended up with a veritable ocean of mud. Cas got the worst of it; he made the mistake of staying in the flower bed when Dean turned on the hose, not anticipating the intensity of water flow, and was splattered with mud. Dean's only dirty because Cas threw some at him in protest.
There's mud on the tulips, too, and the whole flower bed looks like an awful mess. Dean's having a little trouble caring, though; Cas is wearing a tight white tank top and a pair of old jeans and Dean has lost the ability to think clearly. Cas' palms are black with dirt and there's smears of mud on his face. All in all, Cas as a gardener is sexy as fuck and Dean was not prepared for their little Easter activity to leave him - yet again - painfully sexually frustrated.
Cas sits back on his heels and observes their handiwork. “They're about as appealing as our Christmas tree was,” he remarks, attempting to swipe some dirt from one of the flower petals and only further smudging it.
“It's got Winchester appeal. A little rough around the edges but there's some charm there.”
“Perhaps. If nothing else, it brings color to the flat.”
“... Cas. Our front lawn is lit up every night with glowing bunny lights. Don't think we're lacking for color here, man.”
“Natural color, Dean.”
“You're such a girl, dude. I need to keep you away from Sam.”
Cas scowls. Dean notes that Cas is kinda hot when he does that, too, and he mentally adds 'angry sex' to the steadily building list of fantasies he has regarding Cas. His eyes dart to Cas' lips, bright pink and chapped as ever. Cas notices.
“What are you thinking about, Dean?”
Dean clears his throat and swallows hard.
“Uh - church,” Dean evades quickly, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you making us go to church Sunday? For Easter mass or whatever? Cause I hate to break it to you man, but they're not the most gay-friendly places in the world, especially around here.”
Cas shakes his head.
“We're going to church - ” Dean groans at this “- but not to a Christian service. I don't want to spend my holiday amongst people who would make us uncomfortable, but I do want to do everything that the holiday includes.”
“But Cas -”
“Holidays are my domain, Dean. This is my first year immersed in humanity. Let me explore it. We're going to church.”
“Whatever you say, Cas,” Dean grumbles.
They end up laying in the grass of their front yard, staring at the blue sky overhead. The whole world smells of Spring and rebirth; the grass has a fresh scent to it that makes everything feel brand new. Dean takes Cas' hand as he searches for pictures in the clouds.
“I know that's not what you were thinking about, by the way,” Cas says offhand after several minutes in quiet tranquility. Dean blanches.
“Er, what are you talking about?”
“You know, Dean. And I'm still interested. I think about it, too.”
Cas gets up, then, and walks into the house. Dean lays there a while longer, brain going over and over Cas' statement, psychoanalyzing it. I think about it, too. He closes his eyes and thinks about the implications of that. A shiver runs down his spine.
He really, really needs to get on that.
*
Cas falls asleep in a pair of boxers and his bunny sweater, hood up and ears draped across his face. He's the picture of innocence in sleep, and Dean wonders at how this man can be at once the scariest and cutest thing he's ever met. He lays in bed til he's sure Cas is asleep and then sneaks off to the kitchen to put Cas' Easter basket together. He fills it with all the essentials - chocolate bunnies, caramel filled Easter eggs and Peeps. He hasn't had a proper Easter since before his mom died, but he's pretty sure he's covered all the basics.
He shuts off the kitchen light and takes another peek at his angel. He can see him faintly in the light of the three candles he's left burning for Dean before he goes to sleep. He chuckles at the sight of the bunny ears. Figures Cas would like such a dorky thing, figures his favorite animal would be a rabbit.
With that thought, an idea strikes him. He grabs his coat and his keys and slips out the door, casting one last fond smile at Cas before he leaves.
Part Two