Matters of the Heart (d/c, 1.5k, T)

“So Valentine’s Day is like… so dumb, right?”

Dean’s ostensibly random query breaks through the comfortable tranquility they’ve settled into as they laze in bed, just enjoying the afterglow and each other’s touch, Dean’s head comfortably cradled against Castiel’s bare chest. Castiel’s caught off-guard by the non sequitur, his fingers abruptly pausing as they stroke through Dean’s hair.

He was aware, of course, that Dean’s mind had been wandering, as it often does, but that certainly wasn’t what Castiel expected to be the focus of his stray thoughts. He resumes his leisurely caressing and mulls over his response, eventually circling back to his first instinct. “Is… that a trick question?”

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Matters of the Heart (d/c, 1.5k, T)

“So Valentine’s Day is like… so dumb, right?”

Dean’s ostensibly random query breaks through the comfortable tranquility they’ve settled into as they laze in bed, just enjoying the afterglow and each other’s touch, Dean’s head comfortably cradled against Castiel’s bare chest. Castiel’s caught off-guard by the non sequitur, his fingers abruptly pausing as they stroke through Dean’s hair.

He was aware, of course, that Dean’s mind had been wandering, as it often does, but that certainly wasn’t what Castiel expected to be the focus of his stray thoughts. He resumes his leisurely caressing and mulls over his response, eventually circling back to his first instinct. “Is… that a trick question?”

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Dean follows Cas’s line of sight and oh, okay, so, there’s a spring of mistletoe dangling innocently above their heads.

Dean’s in the garage giving his Baby a good scrub-down when Cas sidles up behind him, wrapping his thick arms around Dean’s waist, rumbling, “What are you wearing?” into Dean’s ear. Dean immediately stops what he’s doing, leans into Cas’s embrace and huffs out a breathy laugh. “You know what shorts are, Cas.”

Cas damn near purrs as he noses along Dean’s hairline. “I like these,” he confesses, his soft mouth and scratchy stubble teasing the sensitive skin of Dean’s neck. “I can see so much of you,” he adds, and his hands are already everywhere, one snaking up Dean’s t-shirt and the other wandering down to stroke high on the back of Dean’s leg, fingers toying with the fraying hemline of his shorts.

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Matters of the Heart (d/c, 1.5k, T)

“So Valentine’s Day is like… so dumb, right?”

Dean’s ostensibly random query breaks through the comfortable tranquility they’ve settled into as they laze in bed, just enjoying the afterglow and each other’s touch, Dean’s head comfortably cradled against Castiel’s bare chest. Castiel’s caught off-guard by the non sequitur, his fingers abruptly pausing as they stroke through Dean’s hair.

He was aware, of course, that Dean’s mind had been wandering, as it often does, but that certainly wasn’t what Castiel expected to be the focus of his stray thoughts. He resumes his leisurely caressing and mulls over his response, eventually circling back to his first instinct. “Is… that a trick question?”

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Meant to Be Near Me (D/C, 1.9k, G)

Dean has to admit, he’s kinda crazy about this whole “domestic bliss” thing. He would’ve figured that the quiet, the simplicity of it all, would seem painfully boring compared to the lifestyle he’s used to, but maybe that’s exactly what makes it so appealing – it’s a weird luxury, having spare time to while away doing something as mundane as menial housework, someone he cares about by his side. The monotony’s soothing; there’s something that feels warm and safe about it – not boring, just relaxing. Peaceful. Today, it’s cleaning up after dinner that sets off that strange sense of contentment, him and Cas crowded up to the kitchen sink doing the dishes in comfortable silence. If he digs down deep, really picks his psyche apart and analyzes the pieces, this sorta shit is all he’s wanted since he was four years old. He’s had bigger dreams, sure, but in some ways this was his wildest fantasy. If this is what settling down is like, Dean’s pretty okay with that.

Dean hands Cas a freshly-washed glass and watches with interest as he methodically dries it with a dish towel. Dean’s distracted by the way Cas’s hands move, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, forearms flexing. Maybe Dean can convince him to “turn in” early tonight—speaking of things Dean never thought he’d get to have. Waking up next to Cas every morning is… yeah, that’s really something.

“Dean?”

“Uh,” Dean blinks and snaps out of it, dragging his eyes towards Cas’s face, expecting Cas to tease him now that he’s been caught staring. “Yeah?”

But Cas doesn’t answer him right away, just gazes at him fondly for a moment, smiles until Dean smiles back. “Do you remember the ring I found in one of the spare rooms?”

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Ever since Cas started staying in the bunker, Dean’s been having these crazy dreams—dreams that feature him and Cas in absurd, tawdry scenarios like something out of a filthy paperback. Dean chalks it up to exhaustion, or some monster messing with his head, anything to ignore the real cause: Cas in his personal space, in various states of undress, and, wow, way more muscular than Dean would’ve expected.

But if it’s just physical lust that’s the cause, then that’s an easy fix, right? No big deal. There’s definitely nothing else that his subconscious is trying to tell him. Absolutely not.

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To Be Here (d/c, 4k, T)

When Dean had first started planning that long sought-after beach vacation, this wasn’t what he had in mind.

Things are different now. It’s just him and Cas, as in him and Cas, all the unspoken longing finally pulled to the surface, actual acknowledgment that whatever ‘profound bond’ they had couldn’t accurately be described as mere friendship. Now it’s… official. [read more on ao3]

Folding Under You (D/C, 1100 words, M)

Being with Cas is an exercise in learning that familiarity is its own kind of thrill. That something being routine doesn’t mean it’s boring.

There’s a part of him that resists it, that tells him something must be missing if he’s not constantly on his toes, accustomed to relentless… excitement, for lack of a better term. He’s proud to say it didn’t take him too long to realize how wrong that instinct was. He’s not “settling,” as the term is commonly used, not grimly resigning himself to accepting the bare minimum; he’s settled, inviting something better into his life, embracing it, letting it calm and ground him. Peace and security aren’t consolation prizes in exchange for giving up his wildest dreams - they vastly exceed what he could have dared hope for. Stability isn’t a tradeoff for passion.

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When It Comes to Being Loved (D/C, 37k, E)

Dean’s extended period of self-discovery and inner reflection, of addressing all those fleeting little notions of his that maybe weren’t so little or fleeting after all, had culminated in one inescapable, terrifying fact.

He’s in love with Cas. Hopelessly, completely, embarrassingly in love with him.

They’ve just never had what they needed to explore this before, never had time, solitude, a real moment to breathe.

But they have it now, Dean thinks. He’s made damn sure of that.

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Bound to Be a Better Ride (D/C, 10k+, E)

“She seemed quite… taken with you.”

“Who?” Dean replies without thinking. He’s not sure why he’s playing dumb – it’s pretty fucking obvious that she’s into him. Obvious to Cas too, apparently. “Shannon?”

Cas doesn’t even have a response to that, just a slight narrowing of his eyes at the sound of her name, faint frown deepening.

That’s interesting. So interesting, in fact, that Dean can’t help but prod at it a little and see where that gets him.

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UPDATE: Chapter 8 is here!

Folding Under You (D/C, 1100 words, M)

Being with Cas is an exercise in learning that familiarity is its own kind of thrill. That something being routine doesn’t mean it’s boring.

There’s a part of him that resists it, that tells him something must be missing if he’s not constantly on his toes, accustomed to relentless… excitement, for lack of a better term. He’s proud to say it didn’t take him too long to realize how wrong that instinct was. He’s not “settling,” as the term is commonly used, not grimly resigning himself to accepting the bare minimum; he’s settled, inviting something better into his life, embracing it, letting it calm and ground him. Peace and security aren’t consolation prizes in exchange for giving up his wildest dreams - they vastly exceed what he could have dared hope for. Stability isn’t a tradeoff for passion.

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Dean follows Cas’s line of sight and oh, okay, so, there’s a spring of mistletoe dangling innocently above their heads.