Suburban War - Epilogue
When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won’t be afraid
Oh, I won’t be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
~Ben E. King, “Stand By Me”
Four years later...
“Dean?”
“Ssshhh, your little slice of heaven is right here. Now either go back to sleep, or help me out with this.” Dean pulls himself closer to Castiel, scritching his nose along the hairs at the back of his friend's neck, and nudging his morning wood against the crack of Castiel’s ass.
Castiel is silent for several moments, and Dean assumes he’s gone back to sleep until he hears words muttered against a pillow. “You’re never going to let me live down what I said in those letters, are you?”
Dean chuckles, voice deep and rough from sleep. “Nope. Never ever.” He nibbles at the jut of bone along the top of Castiel’s spine. “Now what would you say about a nice, lazy morning fuck?”
Castiel groans, burying his face further into his pillow. “I’m too sleepy to fuck.” They lie in silence for a few seconds, until Castiel adds, glancing at Dean over his shoulder, “Unless you want to be the one doing the fucking. I could get behind that, so to speak.”
Dean wraps his arm tighter around Castiel’s waist, sliding a foot between his ankles and kissing his shoulder blade. “I’m too tired to do the fucking,” he whines. “Besides, I thought you couldn’t get enough of being inside me.”
Castiel huffs, arching his back and rubbing his ass against Dean’s cock. “I think I’d rather punish you for teasing me all the time about the things I wrote after you cruelly broke my heart.”
Dean waits a couple beats, listening as Castiel’s breathing becomes slow and even again, before kissing the space between his shoulder blades. “Could you punish me while your dick is in my ass?”
Castiel lets loose a bark of laughter, and Dean smiles against the skin of his back. “I think maybe you need to look up the definition of punishment because I’m pretty sure what you’re wanting is the exact opposite of that,” Castiel teases, turning over so that he’s facing Dean. He’s smiling Dean’s favorite smile, the goofy one that’s all gums and nose crinkles, and Dean is unable to resist leaning in to capture it with his lips.
They make out for a while, all slow, lazy flicks of tongue and contented little sighs at the pulse points of necks. The sun has barely risen, their apartment hazy from the first rays of light, and neither of them is ready to leave the warmth and coziness of their bed. Their kisses slowly subside, and eventually they both fall back asleep, legs and arms tangled together as they press close.
They wake a couple hours later, laughing and stumbling over moving boxes as they make their way into the bathroom. They take turns giving each other thoroughly satisfying blowjobs in the shower, before soaping each other up and washing the other’s hair. It’s a routine they’d not had the luxury of for most of Castiel’s college years, both of their schedules so hectic that they rarely had the opportunity to shower together, much less take their time with it.
Once they’re out of the shower, and after having spent entirely too much time making sure the other is thoroughly dried, they unpack the few remaining boxes they’d not gotten to the night before. One good thing about moving cross-country from college to real life is that you don’t tend to take along too much baggage on the trip, so it unsurprisingly doesn’t take too long to unfold their lives and begin again. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Jody hadn’t changed anything from the way Dean had left it four years ago, so it’s not as much of an adjustment for Dean as it is Castiel.
Dean brews up a pot of coffee as he scrambles eggs and makes toast, promising to make Castiel Mary’s famous French Toast recipe just as soon as he goes to the store and stocks up their fridge. When the coffee is ready, he pours Castiel a mug, adding the obscene amount of French Vanilla creamer and sugar his friend prefers, and carries it over to Castiel, laying it on the desk beside his drawing board. He stands behind Castiel, looking over his friend's shoulder at the picture he’s working on, before leaning forward to place a kiss along that sensitive spot that Cas loves on the back of his neck.
“Hey, maybe we should have ourselves a picnic on the floor for lunch,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s skin. “Kinda like that picnic we had inside my house the first day we met.”
Castiel exhales softly, hand pausing at his sketchboard as Dean massages the cord of muscle along his shoulder. “I’d like that,” he says. “I think we may even have the plaid blanket we used back then in one of the boxes your mother sent with us.”
They’re quiet for a few more minutes, Dean watching Castiel’s hand flow across the paper as he continues to draw. “You know,” Dean whispers against the soft hairs along the nape of Castiel’s neck, smiling when he feels Cas shiver, “you should draw me like one of your French girls.”
Castiel laughs, leaning back against Dean’s chest. “I will never understand your obsession with that movie,” Castiel teases, glancing over his shoulder. “And you realize this makes you Kate Winslet in this scenario, right?”
“Or, you could draw a picture of your dick in my ass,” Dean suggests lasciviously. “That’s a little less Kate Winslet, a little more Kate Rimslet, if you know what I’m saying.”
”You’re ridiculous,” Castiel snorts. “And you’re never gonna let that one go either, are you?”
“When it comes to your dick in my ass, it is physically, emotionally, and spiritually impossible for me to ever let that go,” Dean teases.
He grunts in displeasure when Castiel leans forward and away from him, reaching into one of his sketchbooks and thumbing through the pages. Castiel gets through most of the book before finding what he’s looking for, pulling out the drawing and handing it to Dean, a small smile on his lips. Dean looks at it, not surprised to find it’s another picture of himself, but the look on his face is something different altogether. His eyes are partially closed, the green of his irises barely showing through his lashes, and his lips are parted in what looks to be half-smile, half-gasp.
Castiel leans in, kissing along the bolt of Dean’s jaw. “That’s the expression you make when I’m inside you, Dean.”
Dean curses, letting the page fall from his fingers as he pulls Castiel back to their bed, unbuckling his pants, and alternating between daring and begging Castiel to put that expression on his face again.
********************
The move to Chattanooga was a spur of the moment decision, the only real motivation behind it being Dean feeling as if he’d left it too soon. Since Castiel’s minor in graphic design affords him some flexibility on where to live, they agree that for the time being, Dean’s success at his job in Chattanooga trumps Castiel’s desire to live in a city where he can find galleries willing to display his art.
Castiel soon realizes that even though they’re in the South, he can still find galleries that will give him a chance, especially in the nearby city of Atlanta. It’s not New York City or Los Angeles, but it’s good enough for getting his name out there, for now. His freelance jobs keep him so busy that he hardly has time for drawing on his own, and most of that spare time is spent sketching the graphic novel that he and Dean are trying to create together.
Dean is taking creative writing classes a couple nights a week, building onto the knowledge he gained from the few courses he audited in Seattle. The writing is slow-going, mostly because when he’s not working, his spare time is spent with Castiel, and when he’s not with Castiel he’s thinking about Castiel. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever grow out of this high school draw-doodles-and-hearts-around-their-names-together phase of their relationship, but deep down, he kind of hopes he doesn’t.
It’s a good life that Dean and Castiel are weaving together. They make no long-term plans because they want to make things up as they go. The one permanent thing both Dean and Castiel agree on is to stay by each other’s side, no matter what. Because they will never stop needing each other, and wanting to be the last person the other talks to at night, and the first person they see in the morning. Because they’re family, and that’s how it’s always been, from the first moment they met.
We’re a team, right?
You jump, I jump.
The End
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won’t be afraid
Oh, I won’t be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
~Ben E. King, “Stand By Me”
Four years later...
“Dean?”
“Ssshhh, your little slice of heaven is right here. Now either go back to sleep, or help me out with this.” Dean pulls himself closer to Castiel, scritching his nose along the hairs at the back of his friend's neck, and nudging his morning wood against the crack of Castiel’s ass.
Castiel is silent for several moments, and Dean assumes he’s gone back to sleep until he hears words muttered against a pillow. “You’re never going to let me live down what I said in those letters, are you?”
Dean chuckles, voice deep and rough from sleep. “Nope. Never ever.” He nibbles at the jut of bone along the top of Castiel’s spine. “Now what would you say about a nice, lazy morning fuck?”
Castiel groans, burying his face further into his pillow. “I’m too sleepy to fuck.” They lie in silence for a few seconds, until Castiel adds, glancing at Dean over his shoulder, “Unless you want to be the one doing the fucking. I could get behind that, so to speak.”
Dean wraps his arm tighter around Castiel’s waist, sliding a foot between his ankles and kissing his shoulder blade. “I’m too tired to do the fucking,” he whines. “Besides, I thought you couldn’t get enough of being inside me.”
Castiel huffs, arching his back and rubbing his ass against Dean’s cock. “I think I’d rather punish you for teasing me all the time about the things I wrote after you cruelly broke my heart.”
Dean waits a couple beats, listening as Castiel’s breathing becomes slow and even again, before kissing the space between his shoulder blades. “Could you punish me while your dick is in my ass?”
Castiel lets loose a bark of laughter, and Dean smiles against the skin of his back. “I think maybe you need to look up the definition of punishment because I’m pretty sure what you’re wanting is the exact opposite of that,” Castiel teases, turning over so that he’s facing Dean. He’s smiling Dean’s favorite smile, the goofy one that’s all gums and nose crinkles, and Dean is unable to resist leaning in to capture it with his lips.
They make out for a while, all slow, lazy flicks of tongue and contented little sighs at the pulse points of necks. The sun has barely risen, their apartment hazy from the first rays of light, and neither of them is ready to leave the warmth and coziness of their bed. Their kisses slowly subside, and eventually they both fall back asleep, legs and arms tangled together as they press close.
They wake a couple hours later, laughing and stumbling over moving boxes as they make their way into the bathroom. They take turns giving each other thoroughly satisfying blowjobs in the shower, before soaping each other up and washing the other’s hair. It’s a routine they’d not had the luxury of for most of Castiel’s college years, both of their schedules so hectic that they rarely had the opportunity to shower together, much less take their time with it.
Once they’re out of the shower, and after having spent entirely too much time making sure the other is thoroughly dried, they unpack the few remaining boxes they’d not gotten to the night before. One good thing about moving cross-country from college to real life is that you don’t tend to take along too much baggage on the trip, so it unsurprisingly doesn’t take too long to unfold their lives and begin again. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Jody hadn’t changed anything from the way Dean had left it four years ago, so it’s not as much of an adjustment for Dean as it is Castiel.
Dean brews up a pot of coffee as he scrambles eggs and makes toast, promising to make Castiel Mary’s famous French Toast recipe just as soon as he goes to the store and stocks up their fridge. When the coffee is ready, he pours Castiel a mug, adding the obscene amount of French Vanilla creamer and sugar his friend prefers, and carries it over to Castiel, laying it on the desk beside his drawing board. He stands behind Castiel, looking over his friend's shoulder at the picture he’s working on, before leaning forward to place a kiss along that sensitive spot that Cas loves on the back of his neck.
“Hey, maybe we should have ourselves a picnic on the floor for lunch,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s skin. “Kinda like that picnic we had inside my house the first day we met.”
Castiel exhales softly, hand pausing at his sketchboard as Dean massages the cord of muscle along his shoulder. “I’d like that,” he says. “I think we may even have the plaid blanket we used back then in one of the boxes your mother sent with us.”
They’re quiet for a few more minutes, Dean watching Castiel’s hand flow across the paper as he continues to draw. “You know,” Dean whispers against the soft hairs along the nape of Castiel’s neck, smiling when he feels Cas shiver, “you should draw me like one of your French girls.”
Castiel laughs, leaning back against Dean’s chest. “I will never understand your obsession with that movie,” Castiel teases, glancing over his shoulder. “And you realize this makes you Kate Winslet in this scenario, right?”
“Or, you could draw a picture of your dick in my ass,” Dean suggests lasciviously. “That’s a little less Kate Winslet, a little more Kate Rimslet, if you know what I’m saying.”
”You’re ridiculous,” Castiel snorts. “And you’re never gonna let that one go either, are you?”
“When it comes to your dick in my ass, it is physically, emotionally, and spiritually impossible for me to ever let that go,” Dean teases.
He grunts in displeasure when Castiel leans forward and away from him, reaching into one of his sketchbooks and thumbing through the pages. Castiel gets through most of the book before finding what he’s looking for, pulling out the drawing and handing it to Dean, a small smile on his lips. Dean looks at it, not surprised to find it’s another picture of himself, but the look on his face is something different altogether. His eyes are partially closed, the green of his irises barely showing through his lashes, and his lips are parted in what looks to be half-smile, half-gasp.
Castiel leans in, kissing along the bolt of Dean’s jaw. “That’s the expression you make when I’m inside you, Dean.”
Dean curses, letting the page fall from his fingers as he pulls Castiel back to their bed, unbuckling his pants, and alternating between daring and begging Castiel to put that expression on his face again.
********************
The move to Chattanooga was a spur of the moment decision, the only real motivation behind it being Dean feeling as if he’d left it too soon. Since Castiel’s minor in graphic design affords him some flexibility on where to live, they agree that for the time being, Dean’s success at his job in Chattanooga trumps Castiel’s desire to live in a city where he can find galleries willing to display his art.
Castiel soon realizes that even though they’re in the South, he can still find galleries that will give him a chance, especially in the nearby city of Atlanta. It’s not New York City or Los Angeles, but it’s good enough for getting his name out there, for now. His freelance jobs keep him so busy that he hardly has time for drawing on his own, and most of that spare time is spent sketching the graphic novel that he and Dean are trying to create together.
Dean is taking creative writing classes a couple nights a week, building onto the knowledge he gained from the few courses he audited in Seattle. The writing is slow-going, mostly because when he’s not working, his spare time is spent with Castiel, and when he’s not with Castiel he’s thinking about Castiel. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever grow out of this high school draw-doodles-and-hearts-around-their-names-together phase of their relationship, but deep down, he kind of hopes he doesn’t.
It’s a good life that Dean and Castiel are weaving together. They make no long-term plans because they want to make things up as they go. The one permanent thing both Dean and Castiel agree on is to stay by each other’s side, no matter what. Because they will never stop needing each other, and wanting to be the last person the other talks to at night, and the first person they see in the morning. Because they’re family, and that’s how it’s always been, from the first moment they met.
We’re a team, right?
You jump, I jump.
The End