He couldn’t really pinpoint a moment in his life that gave him so much warmth. Maybe it was because he was still blinking away the remanence of sleep, or maybe it was because the past is always pale in comparison to the present, or maybe it was just because there hasn’t been a moment before this one. Climbing out of his slumber the first thing he could feel besides the warmth that seemed to touch every molecule of his body, was a chest rising and falling against his rib cage. It was matched with light snoring that seemed more melodic than birds chirping in the early rays of light.
Dean grounded himself to this moment. His mind ventured to the way most of his memories were clouded in blue, how many of his happiest memories are of an angel, and how even through the heartbreak he managed to fall in love. If twenty years ago he would’ve been told that he would wake up in the morning, in a suburban townhouse, with an angel nestled against him… well he would’ve laughed his ass of.
It definitely wasn’t his plan for life. Since he was a boy he thought that he was fine going out in a blaze of glory during a fight with a monster. He was raised to want a warrior’s death. All of his life he never gave anything a chance because he figured he would hunt till his dying breath.
Now he has a mortgage. And a job at a local garage as a mechanic fixing up classic cars. And a husband who is a florist. And a daughter who is graduating from preschool in a few short weeks.
It’s crazy.
Coming to back to the present, Dean finally peels open his eyes to stare up at their white ceiling. The fan is running, since Kansas summers are too hot for comfort. The breeze feels nice against his shins and toes where the sheet had slipped off his skin during the night. But even the cooling air doesn’t take away from the warmth that is now seeping into his veins and filling his lungs.
The last time he picked up a knife was two days ago to cut his daughter’s PB&J sandwich. The only time he uses anything iron is under the hood of a car. Salt is only added to the meals he cooks for the family he cherishes. And the journal he keeps now is filled with taped pictures of memories with smiling faces of family adventures.
Even Sam is just a couple hours away. He’s settled into a life with Eileen Leahy, A Woman of Letters, although they still do hunts together from time to time as husband and wife. Dean fills to the brim with pride when he thinks of how far they’ve come.
Through all his thinking Dean didn’t realize the snoring had stopped. What brought him out of his mind was the feeling of eyes on his skin. Dragging his eyes down from the ceiling he was met with groggy blue eyes peering up at him under disheveled bangs.
“Mornin’, sweetheart.” His voice was rough from lack of use as he curled his lips into a lazy smile.
Cas grunted before ducking his head and burrowing his nose into Dean’s shoulder.
A chuckle vibrated his chest as he wrapped his arms more securely around his angel’s skin to bring them closer. In the morning light he remembers how beautiful his husband is. They’re both covered in white scars from years of battling but in their bed the scars seem to dissipate until all that is left is the two of them, no history or tragedy.
“’M gonna go make breakfast. You want waffles?” Dean pressed his question into Cas’ hair so he could breathe in the fruity shampoo his husband used.
“Mhmmm.”
Not being able to help it Dean’s smile grew wider until it started to ache at his dimples. “With whipped cream?”
“Mhmmm.” Cas started to claw his own way into reality. “Please.”
“Alright.” Dean kissed Cas’ forehead softly before detangling himself from limbs and sheets to stand beside their bed. Before he started toward the kitchen he allowed himself a moment to look over his husband, sprawled across their bed with tan skin popping against the white sheets.
It’s crazy, isn’t it, that Dean couldn’t think of a single moment that didn’t make him feel so much warmth inside his soul.
I wrote this a really long time ago but... this is my happily ever after for them.