Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean stirred awake with a soft hum as a hand, large and warm, carded almost reverently through his hair. He leaned into the touch ever so slightly. While awareness threatened to return to him with all the haste of a lazy cat, the burn in his eyes made it nigh impossible to keep them open for more than a split second. However, there was a nagging feeling somewhere in the pit of his belly that he was probably overstaying a welcome of some sort. Or maybe it was just nausea. Either way, his brain decided, it was time to get up and leave.

His valiant attempt to wake properly only rewarded him with a violent pulse of the migraine he’d forgotten he had. ‘Stupid lights’, he found himself thinking petulantly. Suddenly the world felt too bright even behind his closed eyelids, as if triggered by the reminder that light did not, in fact, cease to exist when he shut his eyes. 

With a miserable groan and face scrunched in pain, Dean curled closer to the comforting heat at his side, while overly energetic voices and sound effects proceeded to filter through his sleepy haze and assault his too-sensitive ears. Whining, he tried to completely disappear into the blissful embrace he was wrapped up in. A raspy chuckle sent a shiver down his spine as he nuzzled his cheek against a hard chest.

“Take it easy, tiger,” the person’s low dulcet tone washed over his being like a salve. The hand that wasn’t busy petting his headache away slotted over his eyes to effectively block the offending living room light. Dean genuinely did not expect it to relieve as much pressure as it did. With the impromptu aid, his eyes carefully fluttered open and locked onto Castiel’s. A tired but genuine smile bloomed on his face.

“Thank you, Cas,” he murmured. A happy little something had the chance to form in his chest as he finally registered the loving look on Castiel’s face, before a cute giggle nearby caught his attention. Right, this was why he was at Castiel’s place in to begin with. They were having a cat-themed movie night with Claire. Because apparently there were enough cat movies to fill a night.

Dean had been hesitant to accept when Cas had first invited him to join, not wanting to intrude on the little time Castiel got to spend with his little girl. But apparently both father and daughter wanted him there. ‘Claire specifically made me promise you’d be there,’ Castiel had bargained, “She really wants to show you those cats.” As a policeman, Dean had forged and collected many excuses in his head that could get him out of things like these, no questions asked. But he’d truly wanted to spend time with Claire and Cas. And see the cats, of course.

“You know,” Castiel broke him out of his thoughts, voice lower still, and so incredibly fond. Yet, Dean thought he could hear an odd undertone to it. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. 

“I wish I could get this on video.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“That way I’d have a solid argument with evidence next time you come in looking like a dead man walking and try to tell me you feel fine,” the older man scolded as sternly as he could whilst met with the sight his love made in that moment - Dean’s entire existence could be summed up as adorable-but-worrying.

“Oh.”

Castiel waited patiently for Dean to continue. Because even though the silence was stretching deep into what would usually be awkward territory, he could practically see the cogs turning in the younger’s sleep-addled mind.

“I kinda wish you could get it on video too,” was what Dean came out with, “Should just go to sleep next time.”

Castiel gasped. 

“You’re admitting you should take better care of yourself?” He made a show of checking the younger’s temperature, “Your condition is worse than I thought.” 

Dean chuckled and scrunched one eye shut as the ache in his head sharpened momentarily.

“But I couldn’t just bail on movie night today.”

Castiel felt almost guilty about how glad he was to hear that. He was meant to be the voice of reason here, damn it. Someone had to combat Dean’s casual disregard of his own well-being.

“You wouldn’t be just bailing. You were clearly not feeling well. You still aren’t. We could have easily postponed this.”

“I promised though,” Dean’s earnest gaze had Castiel wanting nothing more than to just hold him tight and never let go.

“There’s my stupidly stubborn boyfriend. I was wondering where you went,” he snarked instead. 

With a small laugh Dean swatted weakly at him. 

He winced almost immediately as it sent another pang slicing through his head, “Don’t make me laugh.”

Frowning, Castiel cradled Dean’s face in his hands and began to massage his temples. A small appreciative sound slipped past the younger’s lips. Castiel would be grinning from ear to ear if he wasn’t afraid Dean might pass out at any moment. Again.

“It was like this all day? Even at work?”

“I wasn’t this sensitive in the morning?”

“Are you asking me?” Castiel sighed, “You worked late today, too. Dean-”

“I know,” Dean squeezed his thigh, “I thought of leaving early when it got bad-”

“When it got bad!?” Castiel shout-whispered, still mindful of both his love’s condition and his little girl watching The Aristocats just a few meters away. Dean never admitted to feeling bad or needing rest when he thought he had more important matters at hand. For him to consider cutting his work day short, to confess to it getting bad. It was- this was- 

Dean just blinked up at him, clearly having trouble processing what it was he’d said wrong. His body, on the other side, reacted quickly to Castiel’s clear distress, rubbing placating hands soothingly over the older’s chest and neck. The gesture kept Castiel grounded enough to not lose his shit right then and there.

“Ah,” the light bulb finally went off above Dean’s head, “well see,  I uh-”

Unfortunately, it seemed the younger couldn’t formulate a good reason at that moment. Maybe this was Castiel’s chance to finally talk some proper sense into him.

However, Dean’s ever present luck was still at his side. Claire, having just finished the movie, climbed up on the couch and into Castiel’s lap. 

“Daddy~”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, then smiled sheepishly as Castiel glared at him despite wrapping a gentle arm around his waist.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he promised before turning his full attention to Claire, “Did you like the movie, sweetheart?”

“Uh huh,” she leaned against his chest, “Do you think mommy will let me have kitties?”

“Having kittens is a big responsibility, Claire.” Castiel tried to reason. It was hard for him to straight out refuse his daughter.

“We could get big cats then. Like Thomas O’Malley the Alley Cat and Dutches. And then they could have kittens later.”

“Big cats are just as big a responsibility.” 

“But they had Dutches, and three kittens, and they adopted Thomas O’Malley the Alley Cat anyway in the end.” 

“Exactly, they already had several cats and knew how to care for them. So it was an easier decision to take Thomas O’Malley in.”

“Thomas O’Malley the Alley Cat.” Claire corrected.

“Right. My apologies, sweetheart.”

“Apologies accepted,” she nodded before yawning, “Can we watch another one? The Garfield one?”

“We already watched that twice.” Castiel wasn’t sure he could handle another run of it.

“And besides, you seem too sleepy for another one, sunshine,” Dean mumbled, brushing the bangs away from her droopy eyes.

Castiel snorted. ‘She’s in better condition than you are,’ he wanted to say, thankful as he was for the help. But his beautiful little girl was one step ahead.

“Nuh-uh. ’m not as sleepy as you are!”

Proud, Castiel ruffled her hair.

“Ey,” Dean grinned and tapped the tip of her nose, “Your daddy is already lecturing me as it is. I need some support here.”

“Daddy is right then,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Come on”

“I’m earning pancakes for breakfast tomorrow!”

“What about supporting me?”

“But Dean~, pancakes~”

Castiel’s heart swelled as he watched them bicker. These were the two most important people in his life, and he had them both safely wrapped in his arms. It still amazed him how quickly and easily the two had taken to each other. He remembered agonizing over introducing Dean to his daughter. How would it go? Would it be awkward? What if they didn’t like each other - he’d already fallen far too deep with Dean, but he couldn’t disregard his daughter’s feelings. Then the time had finally come, and while Claire hadn’t been completely comfortable near a stranger, Dean somehow had her warming up to him in no time. That same evening she’d flitted around the kitchen while Dean cooked dinner, and regaled the young officer with stories about her trip, her school, her friends. Castiel had been ready to cry tears of joy then. Hell, he was about ready to cry tears of joy right now.

“Ok kids,” Castiel cut into their play-argument, “I think everyone here should head to bed.”

“But-” Claire cut herself off with another yawn. Faced with both her dad and his boyfriend’s amusement, she conceded, “Ok, maybe it is bedtime.”

The two chuckled as Castiel carefully shifted away from Dean so as to not jostle him too much and made to take Claire to her room. He’d intended to let Dean rest a few minutes more while he tucked Claire in. To carry him to bed, help him get ready, just… take care of him for once. As usual, however, it seemed his stubborn love had other ideas.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Castiel asked, baffled as Dean swayed where he now stood in front of the couch. He tensed, dozens of scenarios flying through his head - mostly revolving around how to catch Dean if he fell without flinging Claire in the air. Thankfully it seemed that wouldn’t be necessary. Dean righted himself and his eyes focused, though he was still squinting.

“Going to say goodnight to Claire,” he answered with nearly-closed eyes, as if there was no other possible option. He would leave right after. Surely it was ok. He’d stayed this late after all, what was another ten minutes.

“You can just say it now and relax for a bit longer until I’m back,” Castiel explained slowly, gently. He regretted it when Dean’s entire being seemed to droop at the sentence.

“But daddy,” Claire whined and wiggled in his hold, “I want Dean to tuck me in too.”

Dean perked up, as much as he could in his current state, and suddenly Castiel was facing off against two sets of pleading puppy eyes. Separately they had him weak at the knees. But together? And at the same time? He stood no chance.

“You two are impossible,” he shook his head affectionately.

“No, we’re just adorable,” Dean’s mouth lifted in a lazy smile as he slowly followed after him.

“Fair enough. But are you as adorable as the cats?”

Castiel held back a laugh as Dean grumbled at him. He nudged at a half-asleep daughter.

“What do you think, sweetheart? Does Dean compete with the kittens?”

“Hey,” Dean piped when the little girl shook her heavy head,” It’s not fair when they’re animated.”

Castiel did let out a laugh at that, trying not to let worry take over again as a grimace crossed Dean’s face briefly. 

“Do you think you’re as cute as actual real-life kittens?”

“Am I not though?” The familiar playfulness was at least somewhat reassuring in the face of clear exhaustion in Dean’s eyes and posture. Castiel hummed thoughtfully as they entered Claire’s room.

“I think that answer depends on who you’re asking.”

“Dean isn’t like kittens,” Claire muttered, “Dean is a person.”

Castiel and Dean had a feeling the word ‘stupid’ had been strategically left out of that sentence.

“Dean is like a prince,” she continued. Dean blushed.

“Is he now?” Castiel smiled at her and checked on his boyfriend’s ever reddening face.

“Hmhm. He is the most handsomest prince in the kingdom,” she giggled and tossed her arms out on her bed when her father sat her down, “But like, a warrior prince. With a sword!”

“What about your dad, sunshine,” Dean tried to take the attention away from himself.

“Daddy is a king,” she nodded to herself.

“You hear that, Dean? A king’s word is law, you know?” he faux-glared up at his love, holding him around the hips to show he wasn’t serious, squeezing at one when Dean leaned a little too much weight on him.

“But daddy is a goofy king,” Claire burst his bubble, “He needs help sometimes to get things right.” 

“You hear that, Cas? A king needs directions sometimes.”

“Claire, what kind of king is goofy?”

“Daddy is!”

“Well who’ll be giving me those directions then?”

“Prince Dean!”

“But he's a prince. Won’t he inherit the kingdom one day?”

“No. He’s a prince from another kingdom, I’ll inherit the kingdom as princess” she buried her nose in her blanket before letting out a giggle, “And the king will marry the prince one day.”

Both of them froze. Castiel nearly choked on his own spit. Sure he’d entertained the thought in private. But only as a possibility in future. A fairly far away future. He and Dean weren’t even living together yet. Hell, they hadn’t properly said “I love you” yet. Castiel - still not entirely over the age gap between them and worried about numerous what-if-s and probably-s. And Dean - too afraid of pushing things too quickly. Gah, he really needed to stop talking to himself out loud. At least while Claire was home.

“And I’m gonna make flower crowns for the wedding. Lilies suit Dean.”

“Thanks sunshine.”

Dean’s voice came out weak, his face beet red when Castiel looked up at him. Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand gently until their eyes met.

“It would look beautiful.”

That rewarded him with a bashful little smile that Castiel couldn’t help but return.

“I know. And then I will rule both kingdoms.” Claire answered matter-of-factly, making them both chuckle.

“Alright, time to sleep. Goodnight sweetheart” Castiel pecked her forehead and headed out to wait for Dean at the doorway.

“Goodnight daddy.”

“Goodnight princess.” Dean tucked her in and was about to switch her night light off when Claire protested.

“Goodnight kiss first!” she demanded. Dean paused while a giddy grin split Castiel’s face - the princess wanted a kiss from a prince it seemed.

“You know, usually princes kiss princesses to wake them up, not put them to sleep.”

“Well yeah. But you’re not my prince,” Claire said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re daddy’s.” 

“I… right.”

As much as Castiel wanted to tease Dean about the blush that bloomed across his cheeks yet again, he could feel his own face wasn’t faring much better.

“Alright then, goodnight kiss it is,” Dean kissed her cheek, “Better now?”

“Much.”

“Ok. Goodnight again princess.” 

“Goodnight, papa.”

Castiel froze. Dean turned the light off. Claire rolled over. 

‘The hell?’ Castiel’s baffled mind supplied.

Castiel stared at his daughter, then at Dean as he closed the door. Neither of the two seemed to react to what Castiel had just heard. Either he was having auditory hallucinations, or this had happened before. He continued to look at his lover as he turned to him.

Dean blinked slowly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did- did you hear what she said?” Castiel asked incredulously.

“What did she-” Dean’s eyes widened, “Oh my god.”

“Has this happened before?”

“I don’t think so.”

Castiel let out an irritated sigh as he rubbed the furrow away from Dean’s brows.

“Don’t frown like that. You’ll get wrinkles,” he nagged. Later he might think back on this moment and berate himself for, once again, fretting like a mother hen. But for right now he was too focused on his love to think about that.

“This is a good thing,” Castiel continued with a fond smile before pressing his lips to Dean’s temple. Concern started to pool in his belly when Dean let out a light groan.

“She’s just tired,” the younger shook his head, “probably just thinking about you.”

“She doesn’t call me papa,” Castiel deadpanned. 

“Maybe she heard it a lot in one of the movies,” Dean grumbled and leaned further against him.

“Hey,” Castiel cupped his lover’s face and pulled him back enough to look at him, “What’s wrong? Why are you fighting this?”

He met Dean’s eyes and startled at how dazed they were. Dean’s brow furrowed once more.

“I just- I’m not- I didn’t mean- ” he shook his head to clear it. Castiel waited for him to get his thoughts in order, brushing a thumb under his eye.

“What if I fall into it and then it turns out it’s not what she meant,” he finally got out with a down-turned gaze.

“Dean,” Castiel admonished, tapping at the underside of his chin, “has anything like that ever happened with Claire?”

“No?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No, it hasn’t happened.”

“Has it ever happened with me?”

The furrow intensified.

“No,” this time the answer was certain and clear.

Castiel used the finger at Dean’s chin to tilt his head up.

“Look at me.”

His resolve strengthened when those pretty green eyes he loved so much locked on him - tired and uncertain.

“This is a good thing,” he repeated, urging the younger to believe it, “The fact that it came out naturally, without her thinking, makes it even better.”

Dean smiled, a small but genuine curl of his lips, and gave a miniscule nod.

“Thank you, Cas.”

Another lecture rose to the tip of Castiel’s tongue. About how absurd it was to thank him for stating what was supposed to be fact. It died before being uttered, as Castiel observed Dean’s drooping eyes and sagging posture. Perhaps it was better to shelf this little moment for proper processing later.

“Oh dear,” he sighed before lightly nudging Dean’s forehead, feeling only the barest hint of remorse when his face scrunched, “I think that’s enough serious conversation for you today. Come on.”

The two of them were finally on their way back to the bedroom. Or at least so Castiel thought, until Dean walked right past the door and to the living room.

“What- Dean?” he followed after.

“Hm?”

He was putting on his jacket. Or struggling to. His usual grace appeared to be long gone. 

“What are you doing?”

Dean paused with one arm in the sleeve to look at him inquisitively. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so worrying.

“I’m… picking up my stuff?”

“Why~?”

“To-to go?” the younger stammered and suddenly Castiel got the distinct feeling he was talking to a frightened animal. A tiny shivering one. One he wanted to swaddle in blankets for the rest of eternity. It was insane to him how this man effectively brought down criminals for a living.

“Where~?”

“I- What?”

The furrow of his brow was more prominent than Castiel had ever seen it.

“What do you mean what?”

“What do you mean where?”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” 

For once, Dean didn’t say it like a question. No, he was actually planning to head out in the middle of the night to walk or, because Dean was a stubborn ass sometimes, drive home. All this despite struggling with his own outerwear.

“The hell you are,” Castiel protested sternly. It didn’t seem to register quite right with the younger. Dean just gave him that same slow blink Castiel had become accustomed to that night.

“Am too.”

“You are not,” Castiel reached for him, stopping him in his tracks with one arm at his side and the other on his hip. Before pulling his body close. The jacket slid off and dropped to the floor. Dean didn’t seem to notice, and Castiel elected to ignore it until morning.

“Cas, I’ve stayed too long as it is,” Castiel’s brows shot up. They hadn’t exactly set a time for Dean to leave, and he knew Dean didn’t have anything else to attend to that night. Nor the next day. After all, he had taken a day off just so he could stay up with them for as long as they wanted. Things certainly seemed to have gone well. Despite Dean’s bad condition, he’d seemed to enjoy spending time with him and Claire, impromptu princehood and marriage and all. So he really had no idea where this was coming from.

“What does that mean?”

“I… I don’t-,” Dean stammered, blinking rapidly, his eyes losing focus once again. He leaned heavily against the older. Taking mercy on him, Castiel stopped him with a hand combing through his hair.

“Dean,” he called softly, “You’re barely holding yourself up. The only place you’re going right now is bed. Here. Where I know you’re safe and sound, and not at risk of tripping over your own two feet.”

He was only met with a quiet hum and Dean’s forehead against his shoulder. More weight leaned against him. 

“Dean?”

Castiel hastily wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and back as he leaned further and further against him.

“Dean!” the older yelped, scrambling to keep him upright, “I can’t carry you if you’re dead weight!”

Dean leaned away slightly.

“Sorry, Cas.”

Castiel simply scoffed before dragging his lover to the bedroom. He guided him onto the bed before flitting around the room trying to get ready for bed. 

“Sorry, he says. Next time don’t work when you’re like this,” he scolded as he placed a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts on the bed next to Dean.

“Arms up,” he instructed, “And how can you try to leave when you’re about to black out!? Arms down.”

He smacked at Dean’s hip. 

“Lift your butt. You passed out twice today. Twice!”

“I only passed out once.” 

“You were passing out right now in the living room!” 

“Was not.”

Another smack to the hip.

“Stretch out your legs. What is wrong with you? What if someone attacks you on the way home? You may be a cop, but darling, you need help dressing right now.”

“I could’ve dressed myself,” Dean grumbled against Castiel’s shoulder as he shimmied the shorts onto him.

Castiel pulled back, scandalized, “What was that?”

Dean simply looked at him with innocent eyes and a shell of his usual sheepish smile. Castiel wagged an angry finger at him before walking off to the bathroom.

“I can’t believe,” Castiel’s voice echoed off the tiles, “You stayed at work overtime with a migraine,” he came back out squeezing toothpaste onto Dean’s toothbrush.

“And god knows what else! I’ll be having words with your boss,” he’d have started brushing Dean’s teeth for him if not for gentle fingers wrapping around his hand and deftly taking the toothbrush away. 

“Please don’t,” Dean murmured softly.

Castiel immediately spun on his heel and went back to the bathroom, leaving the door wide open so he had a clear view of his love and vice versa.

“You are in no position to be making requests right now, officer!”

He squeezed the life out of the toothpaste tube onto his own toothbrush, and let the tap run to wash away the blob that splattered in the sink as a result.

“Honestly,” Castiel stalked back to Dean, waving the toothbrush at him, “Did no one there see you? Isn’t it dangerous to have an unfocused cop on the job?”

“Cas~,” once again Dean reached for Castiel, long fingers intertwining with his, “It actually wasn’t that bad in the morning. And I was just dealing with paperwork later.”

Castiel just huffed and tapped at Dean’s elbow.

“Brush your teeth.”

And back into the bathroom he went, finally shoving the toothbrush into his mouth.

Castiel actually managed to stay silent for a full minute. The only sound in the room was that of his furious brushing. Dean on the other hand was quiet as a mouse, with slow lazy strokes he just watched Castiel with an apologetic gaze.

Finally, the older cracked. He spat loudly in the sink and started ranting once more.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled before shoving the brush back into his mouth just so he could gesture better at Dean. Teeth grinding down on plastic and bristles, he continued, “The nerve-wracking stuff you put me through sometimes, I swear you’ll be the death of me. And I can barely even stay mad at you! With your stupid smiles, and your stupid eyes, and that puppy-dog look you give me? That's…” he cut himself off when he noticed Dean was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“What?”

“What did you say?”

The older waved his toothbrush angrily, “Are you making fun of me? I said you’d be the death of me! Is that what you want?”

Dean shook his head with the same wide-eyed look. It left Castiel worried all over again. Tossing the toothbrush somewhere on the dresser behind him, yet another mess he’d clean later, he walked over to  kneel in front of his boyfriend and cupped his face.

“Dean, are you ok?” he spoke as best he could around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“You love me?” Dean choked out with a trembling voice and large doe eyes. Eyes that were suddenly welled up with tears. Castiel’s own eyes turned into saucers. He pulled Dean into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Damn it, he should have rinsed his mouth. 

“Well, of course I love you,” Castiel laughed nervously at the reminder they’d never actually said the words before, regardless of how clear it was in his head. “Is it that bad?” 

It would be ok, he was sure he could spin it for a laugh. The unpleasant knot in his belly didn’t have time to form, however, as Dean fervently shook his head and tightly hugged him.

“Why are you crying then?” Castiel pulled back and tilted Dean’s face up with a gentle touch at his chin. Castiel smiled wide to reassure his obviously distraught lover and brushed away the runaway tear that escaped him.

“I don’t know,” Dean bit his lip.

“Hey,” Castiel pulled the assaulted lip from Dean’s teeth with his thumb, “none of that now.”

With a deep inhale, Castiel decided to bite the bullet, face the music, whatever. He’d been careless with his words. He didn’t want Dean to feel pressured or rushed.

“You don’t need to say it back if you don’t feel it yet.”

He paused when Dean just shook his head again. Once more, before the sting of rejection actually hit, Dean was kissing him. A surprisingly soft, almost hesitant thing.

Then he pulled back and:

“I love you too,” Dean grinned up at him, possibly the brightest Castiel had ever seen him. Eyes still watery, with toothpaste-ie imprints of Castiel’s own lips on his mouth, on his forehead. He was absolutely stunning.

And just like that, tears pooled in Castiel’s eyes. They both laughed, and Castiel pulled Dean in for a proper kiss. It didn’t last long before Dean pulled back with a startled yelp and a hand over his mouth.

“You should rinse your mouth,” he grinned amused, “and so should I now.”

And even though Castiel nodded, he couldn’t help but lay a sloppy, white-lipped kiss on Dean’s cheek.

“You should also probably wash your face,” he winked.