Pure (A Destiel fix-it fic)
Rating: Teen and up
Tags: Fix-it, human!Castiel, domestic, fluff, comfort
Series: part 6 of the season 15 codas
Residing in a sleepy thousand-yard stare, Dean is dimly aware of the bird activity outside their window dwindling as daylight finally recedes. The deep calm of night is still out of reach on this humidity-heavy Saturday night. He sighs when the curtain moves, as if a cooling breeze intended to pick up. Not yet. They’re stuck with this for another week.
At long last, Cas is asleep. He’s lying on his flank, one arm dangling off the side of the bed from when he petted Miracle to sleep, soothing himself. These hot summer nights take it out of him. The discomfort that comes with being human. With the stress of moving house and the realization he’s not as immune to all those little discomforts as he once was.
Dean runs his thumb over the sweet spot between Cas shoulders. On either side are the scars. The moment he touches him, Cas goes lax, his breath heavier under the caress. Cas’ ribcage rising and falling under the soft inside of Dean's arm, he holds still to enjoy the sweet intimacy of the moment. Theirs alone.
No cases. No other residents besides Miracle. A garden. Dinner every night at 7pm, like clockwork. Television cuddles on the couch. Sitting on the deck with a drink, watching the sun come up or set. Tinkering on his car and bike. Tending their vegetables, flowers and bees. The ease of being in the same room together, each doing their own thing. Cas bringing in swag from his solo walks: pretty rocks, feathers, flowers and leaves. They gather some in glass jars, others in the flower press. Dean sharing the oddest bits of literature and pop culture. Playing tug-o-war with Miracle, though he is getting old. Actual weekends. A normal job.
Dean runs a small scrapyard-slash-repair shop and Cas works at the local flower store. They host dinners for Jody, Donna and the girls. They have board game and movie nights with Gabe, Sam and Eileen. They attend conventions with Charlie and Stevie. Not everyone is alive, but finally, it feels as if everyone is here. Present.
Life is good.
He closes his eyes, nose pressed to the nape of Cas’ neck. He smells like rain, even though not a drop has fallen in over a week. They showered together before bed, Cas pressed up against him, the tiles still balmy at his back. A quiet affair, all wet kisses and slow. Dean likes them slow. The languid feel of their entwined bodies, gasping on each other’s lips. The affinity he’s developed for every pitch in Cas’ breath. How his entire being expands under Cas’ touch, a slow-building wave of emotions and he’s whispering endless praises. Every time.
The love he was unable to express has turned into an endless source of words. Whispered, spoken purely, questioned in fear, yelled in anger, and whispered in adoration over and over, to every part of Cas, visible and invisible alike.
Every time, Cas’ soul seems to emanate the grace of angels, and Dean dies and revives a little inside. He stopped blaming himself years ago. Now it’s an endless loop of revival. Rebirth, growth, and scorched soil, all that holds them together blooming time and again, stronger and deeper each time.
His breath escapes between trembling lips. He stares through the open window over the slope of Cas’ shoulder, the fan bringing a remote sense of coolness inside. The sky is a greyish blue, the late summer light fading to make way for the stars. He inches closer until they’re pressed together. Cas tends to flee body heat during these hot summer nights, so he takes what he can get while he is awake. He breathes in his husband’s rainy scent and traces his lips over the meaty part of his shoulder.
Today is a whisper. “I love you.”
Cas always responds. Or maybe Dean likes to imagine he does. That Cas chooses to confirm their bond, even while in a deep sleep, and Dean is wide awake, their minds separated as far as human minds can be. On a hum, Cas presses against his chest. Dean cradles him, arms like wings, until sleep eventually comes for him.
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