SPN VALENTINES

“Do you want to go for a walk this evening?” Cas had asked Dean that day over lunch. “The sun is supposed to start setting around six, and uh, there’s a nice park nearby that I haven’t been to in a while.”

“Oh, a walk? Sure, Cas. Yeah.” Dean swallowed hard. “I’d like that.” Dean hadn’t really known what to say, because of course the answer was yes. He just didn’t know what to make of the invitation and didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic and scare Cas away.

Cas was his best friend, afterall; had been for years. Even at times when they’d gone separate ways, they always picked up where they left off; their bond never breaking. They’d been through so much together, and supported each other in the darker times. So why should Dean worry about a little walk?

Because it could change everything. Or, it could be nothing at all. It’s not like they’ve never gone for a walk before. Dean with his hands in his pockets, folding and tearing at an old receipt in his coat, and Cas cracking a joke at his expense under the warm glow of the streetlights.

But this was Valentine’s day. Cas had practically asked Dean to be his Valentine.

Friends do things together on Valentine’s day too though.

A few years ago, Dean had gone on a Valentine’s day walk with Crowley, before their “summer of love.” Dean had wondered at the time if that was supposed to be a date or not. He’d kind of thought it was; but it became clear that Crowley had not really seen it that way (though he’d apparently been hopeful for a date, he hadn’t considered the walk to be any more than a walk). That hadn’t mattered in the end, since Dean ended up turning Crowley down (or, more accurately, pushing him down) once he saw how toxic their relationship had been, and gained some more self-respect. Crowley had mostly ghosted him after that. They sometimes worked together, but otherwise, they rarely talked.

But this time, it was Cas who asked him to go on a Valentine’s day walk. Cas.

Dean sighed wistfully. He knew he tended to read too far into things. This may just be wishful thinking. Afterall, as an angel, Cas didn’t usually put much stock in cheezy, capitalistic human traditions. Cas didn’t even mention Valentines when he asked Dean to walk with him. Maybe Cas hadn’t even noticed that it was Valentine’s day. But, Valentine’s day does have a religious root - Saint Valentine. In addition to being a symbol of courting, St. Valentine was also the patron saint of beekeepers. Cas probably knew that. So he must know what day it is.

Shaking his head, Dean looked back down at the lorebooks in front of him and tried to focus.

-

Shutting the bunker door, Dean buttoned his coat as Cas simply adjusted his collar and scratched at the back of his neck, ruffling the back of his hair just a bit.

The last few rays of the setting sun illuminated Cas’ features in a mesmerizing way. Dean closed his mouth and cleared his throat, collecting himself.

“Shall we?” he said nonchalantly, gesturing towards the driveway.

The walk to the park was less than a mile; maybe even less than half a mile. Without Baby’s wheels rolling under him as a measurement, Dean wasn’t exactly sure of the distance - just that the walk to get there was very short. They had only just told each other how the rest of their afternoons had went before he was suddenly faced with the manicured greenery.

As they ambled through the park, passing ducks and squirrels, flowers and trees, they talked about nothing and everything. From the dreams they'd been having lately to how the hardships they've faced have changed their worldviews - for better or worse.

They talked about the times that they had been afraid the other would not recover from curses, hexes, and other life-threatening supernatural ailments, and how they rediscovered faith in each other - in sickness and in health.

They talked about how trying to get by on nothing (Dean when he was growing up and Cas when he was Steve [gosh Dean was kicking himself for letting that topic come up and for being so ~~stupid~~ trusting of Gadreel in the first place]) made them appreciate Charlie's magic card and use it responsibly - for rich or for poor.

As they walked, the sun gradually made its way down until it had stretched its rays across the horizon by the time they reached the pond.

Under the shade of an old tree, they stood right next to each other in comfortable silence for a minute or two as they watched the sunset glow and fade in bursts of pink and yellow.

The soft sound of Cas clearing his throat broke the silence.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

“Today’s the 14th.”

“Yes. Yes it is.” Dean replied awkwardly.

Cas hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"This may be kind of silly, but…" Cas started fumbling in his pockets. "I made this for you.".

He handed Dean a little heart-shaped card with a drawing of the two of them feeding ducks at the pond on it.

Dean took the card and stared at it silently for maybe a moment too long.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Cas said sheepishly.

“Oh, no; Cas, it’s not that. I love it. I just…this holiday. The pink, the red, the-” Dean snapped his fingers, fishing for the right words.

“Anatomically incorrect heart shapes.” Cas supplied.

“Yes; exactly!” Dean turned towards Cas and took a breath, seemingly restraining himself from something. “I thought….I thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“Well, not really.” Cas smiled. “But you do.”

Now it was clear that Dean was holding back tears.

“Oh, Dean.” Cas pulled Dean into a tight embrace. Dean rested his head on Cas’ shoulder, and they stood there in each other’s arms for a minute as the last bits of sunlight dipped below the horizon.

Dean slowly raised his head. He didn’t want to break the moment, but he very much wanted to do this.

Their eyes met and Cas tilted his head slightly, but instead of a squint of confusion, his eyes were wide with wonder, and his lips were slightly parted in a soft gasp. Dean found what he was looking for in that expression, and so did Cas. They leaned in and met in the middle.

Under that tree, the seeds they had planted and nurtured finally bloomed into a lovely rose. The soft sweet petals of their lips eventually parted, but their arms were still wrapped around each other. They were both grinning, foreheads touching lightly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Dean finally said.

Cas chuckled. “I was about to say the same thing.”

“Then let’s do it again.” Dean’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“Oh, I don’t ever plan on stopping.” Cas leaned in and chased Dean’s mouth into another sweet yet intense kiss.

“Sure.” Sam smirks as he wanders over to the sink to rinse his cup.

Dean huffs and shovels eggs into his mouth.

It’s fine. He glares at Sam’s stupid back. It’s good. Sam and Cas should be friends. They are friends. It’s great they’ve got their own phone calls to talk about stuff and that’s absolutely nothing to do with -

“What were you talking about?”

“What?” Sam asks over his shoulder as he fills his water bottle.

Dean grits his teeth. “What were you and Cas talking about?”

“Really?” Sam gives him an incredulous look. “You’ve really got to know?”

“No.” Dean shrugs but it’s too aggressive to be convincing. “Don’t gotta tell me. Just wondering.”

“Right.” Sam smiles to himself. Smug little s - “Don’t think you’d enjoy it anyway.”

If anything can lure Dean into being interested in something, it’s someone telling him he wouldn’t like it. He is suddenly determined to make whatever Sam and Cas’ joint interest his favourite thing ever. He’ll learn Latin if he has to. He’ll learn Enochian -

“We were talking about music.”

“Dude!” Dean explodes, almost sending his empty plate flying. “I love music! Why did ya think I wouldn’t wanna talk about that?”

Sam sighs and turns to face him, looking amused and exasperated all at once.

“It’s…uh - ”

“What?”

“It’s not just talking about random music. I kinda…found something out a few weeks ago.” He eyes Dean cautiously. “You won’t like it.”

“Won’t like what?!”

“Well,” Sam begins overly dramatically. He wanders back to his seat at the table opposite Dean. “You know how Chuck wrote those stories about us?”

Dean’s stomach churns. “Yeah. Freaky.”

Sam winces, pulling his phone out. “Yeah, I know. But…I found this playlist on Spotify - ”

“What?”

“Man, you have to start listening to music on something other than cassettes.”

“I listen to vinyl!”

“I mean digitally.” Sam glares over the top of his phone before showing it to Dean.

He peers at the screen, momentarily confused about what he’s seeing. It’s a playlist - a long playlist judging by the run-time at the top of the screen. His eyes skim over the songs. A few artists jump out at him and he snorts. Lady Gaga, Fall Out Boy, Taylor Swift.

When Sam scrolls up he sees the title. ‘I’m unclean | sam winchester’

Dean’s smirk slips away and his blood runs cold.

“What the hell? You’re telling me someone made that?” Dean goes from shocked to furious in 0.2 seconds. “About you? Being ‘unclean’? That’s such bullshit, man! Look, we’re gonna have to, like…call this stupid website. What’s their number? I’ll call them right now, get them to take it down. Loada shit - ”

Sam just laughs. “You want to call Spotify and get them to take a playlist down about me? Dude, it’s got 68 likes - it’s not exactly viral. Besides,” He looks down at his phone with a grin. “It’s a good playlist honestly.”

Dean pauses, midway through finding his own phone. “What? You actually like it? Sam, you’re not unclean - ”

Sam laughs again. “No, no. I know that. This playlist isn’t saying that’s what I am, Dean. It’s about me as a person. It’s about how I see myself. It’s about me as a character in a story.”

“But you’re not - ”

“I know.” Sam’s grinning, like he’s actually pleased about this horrible new development in their twisted lives. “But to the people that read those books and make these playlists, I am a character. And it’s kinda cool to see how they see me through music.”

“You mean there’s more than one playlist?”

“Dude, there’s loads. Actually, there’s uh…” He almost giggles as he fiddles with his phone again. “I clicked on the account that made this playlist to see if they made one about you too - ”

Dean perks up. “Did they?”

“No, actually. But they did - ha - they made this one.” He holds up his phone again and Dean almost splinters the coffee cup in his hands.

‘Nothing Is Worth Losing You | Sastiel’

Sam’s smirking. Dean isn’t. “Apparently, ‘sastiel’ is a thing. That’s how me and Cas started talking about these playlists in the first place. I sent it to him ‘cause I thought he’d find it funny. There are some good songs on it too. Romantic ones - ”

“But that doesn’t fit you and Cas.” Dean snaps.

“No.” Sam puts his phone away again, a smug expression on his face. “But it’s fun to listen to. And I’ve discovered loads of new music this way. Cas sent me a great playlist he found about him last night. That’s what we were talking about this morning.”

“Right.” Dean tries and fails to unclench his jaw.

“So, yeah. Now you know.” Sam stands and stretches like a man who hasn’t just tortured his brother. “I’m going for a shower. Maybe you should get on Spotify, Dean. Check out all the playlists about you.”

He glares so hard Sam actually winces. “Pass. I don’t need a bunch of mouth-breathing, ‘Supernatural’ nerd fans to tell me what music to listen to, thank you very much.”

_

Dean has a Spotify account by lunch time.

He tried cleaning Baby, he tried watching Dr. Sexy, he tried doing a complete inventory of his weapons.

But those dumb playlist are all he can think about.

So by lunchtime, he’s given in. He lies on his belly on his bed, chomping on an excellent grilled cheese sandwich as he scrolls through his phone.

He searches his own name first, fingers slipping over the letters. The titles of the playlists throw him.

songs that dean winchester secretly listens to

Dean winchester and his daddy issues

Dean Winchester's emotional repression

repressed bi eldest daughter complex (derogatory) dean winchester

He tries to work that one out until his head hurts. He chooses the one just titled:

Dean Winchester ☀️

He can manage that. He opens the playlist and rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars when the first song is by Beyoncé. Daddy Lessons.

But the song immediately regains his interest as it starts. There’s a rowdy, backwater country feel to it that makes him soften to it. If this is how people see him, he can live with that. Hell, it sounds country enough to make him want to put his cowboy hat on.

‘Came into this world - daddy’s little girl. And daddy made a soldier out of me.’

Ok, that’s…Dean swallows. That’s a little too on the nose. He quickly skips to the next track.

Springsteen. Dancing in the Dark. Thank god. He lets that one play, his foot jiggling along. He lets the beat carry him over the lyrics that try to suck him in like quicksand.

‘I ain’t nothing but tired. Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself - ‘

The next few tracks make him feel cold. He’s not sure what he expected, but he definitely hadn’t thought the songs would be so…tragic. The melancholic opening bars of one called ‘Smother’ makes him skip it almost immediately.

Song after song, he feels his grip on himself loosen.

Dean’s under no illusion about the hollowness in his chest, the aching void that is never sated no matter how many breakfasts he cooks with Sam, how many movies he watches with Cas, how many hour long chats he has with Jody.

He’s greedy for attention, for affection. For love.

He’s always been like it.

As a child, John would scoop him up and laugh as Dean clung to him, unwilling to let go. His tiny fingers would only loosen on his father’s shirt at the feel of his mother’s arms around him. He’d cling on to her while she bustled around the house, face half-pressed into her blonde hair. She never seemed to mind, humming softly to both of them as she worked.

Then she was gone. And John stopped holding him.

Dean still remembers the first motel they stayed in after the fire. The faint smell of mildew in the air was overtaken by the choking scent of smoke from their clothes. Sammy slept propped against some pillows and John sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. Dean thought it would make both of them feel better if they hugged.

He’d only managed to get one little arm under John’s before he was being roughly pushed away. There was a darkness in his father’s eyes he had never seen before and the shock jolted him out of his desire for comfort.

He never tried again. He clung to Sammy instead. He was a baby so he couldn’t push Dean away.

But Sammy got bigger and bigger and then left.

And the hollow void in his chest ached. So he distracted himself with hook-ups and hunts. That would work for a few days but then he’d find himself alone again and the space yawned wider.

He scrubs his hand over his face and pulls his headphones off. His eyes feel dry and tight, like he should be crying but he can’t work out how.

He looks down at his phone and chuckles despite himself.

Ok. Maybe those Supernatural nerds know what they’re doing.

He’s about to give up for the day when he remembers the other playlist Sam showed him. ‘Sastiel’. Dean’s trying not to think about why that sets his teeth on edge.

He clicks on the username of the person who made the playlist he’d been listening to. He scrolls through a few labelled things he doesn’t recognise before he spots it.

Destiel

He can respect a simple title. He clicks on it and stares at the runtime: four hours and fifty seven minutes. Ok, this particular nerd obviously has quite a lot to say about ‘destiel’.

Despite himself, he grins at the title of the first song. Angel With a Shotgun. He shoves his headphones back on, hits play and feels a swoop of excitement as the song rumbles on, upbeat and strong. Like Springsteen, he lets the rhythm carry him past the lyrics that should make him pause.

He really doesn’t want to stop and think too hard on, ‘I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back, I’ll throw away my faith to keep you safe. Don’t you know you’re everything I have?’

It’s not as if that has to be romantic, right? Pushing aside the fact this is a ‘destiel’ playlist, it could still be platonic. He kind of is everything Cas has. Or at least, he was. But now Cas is friends with Sam, and Mom and he keeps in touch with Claire.

And that’s great. Dean forces himself to smile before realising he’s alone in his room so he doesn’t have to. The aching gets stronger in his chest.

The next song comes on without him noticing.

Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.

He rolls over onto his back and listens. This one’s...yeah. This one’s good. The sense of companionship - finding someone who is stuck just like you are.

He smiles up at the ceiling.

‘Maybe together we can get somewhere...’

_

Dean hunches over his phone in the kitchen that evening, the smell of homemade lasagne cooking in the oven.

Sam’s talking but Dean’s too busy to listen. He’s reading the lyrics to ‘E.T.’, confused how this particular song apparently relates to him and Cas.

He’s just feeling some type of way about ‘Could you be an angel? Your touch, magnetising, feels like I am floating, leaves my body glowing’ when his phone abruptly leaves his hand.

He blinks and lunges for it but it’s too late.

“Dude, I’ve been talking to you for a half hour now and got nothing back. What are you - ” Sam trails off, eyes widening as he flicks through the lyrics and sees Spoitfy is open in the background. “Really?” Pure glee lights up his brother’s face. “A ‘Destiel’ playlist?”

Dean tries to be cool despite his face burning. “You were going on and on about it! I thought I should see what people are saying!”

Sam snorts. “I was not ‘going on and on about it’. I mentioned it because you’re so possessive of Cas that you just had to know what we were talking about.”

“What?” Dean squeaks, and forcibly lowers his voice again. “I’m not…possessive of Cas! That’s so…you don’t know what you’re…that’s a loada bull!”

“Why are you both shouting my name?”

Ah, shit.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam says smoothly, smirking.

Dean, thinking Sam’s sufficiently distracted, lunges for his phone again but Sam holds it just out of reach. Desperate and annoyed, Dean stamps on Sam’s foot and he cries out. Dean pulls his phone from his grasp and roughly shoves it into his pocket.

Cas is watching them with a slight tilt to his head and a furrow in his brow.

“Is everything alright?” He says, so sincere Dean feels embarrassed.

“Yeah. Just Sam being a dick.”

“Dean was listening to a ‘destiel’ playlist.” Sam says, because apparently Dean raised him to be a total bastard. Sam smirks as he tries to rub his foot through his shoe.

“Oh.” Cas blinks, looking at Dean with those eyes. All-seeing and soft and so blue. “Is it…a good one?”

Not the question Dean expected to get but it’s one he can work with. “Y-yeah. Not bad. Don’t get some of the songs but…ya know. Not my playlist, I guess.”

He can feel Sam’s eyes flickering between them. Dean’s definitely going to spit on his lasagne before he gives it to him.

Cas just hums, thinking. Dean can never tell what he’s thinking which strikes him as very unfair because Cas always seems to be able to get a read on him.

“I have an excellent one bookmarked.” Cas says, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone. “I will send it to you.”

Dean’s brain switches off.

_

Thing is, he keeps listening to them.

It’s stupid, but now he’s started, it’s kinda hard to stop. It’s like all those people that read their horoscope, or take personality tests - at some level, everyone wants to hear about themselves from someone else.

Even for someone who hates himself as much as Dean does, it’s fascinating when someone holds up an image of you and says this is how I see you.

It takes a few weeks for him to admit to himself that a lot of them are right.

And it’s oddly comforting when he’s feeling frustrated with a case, or upset about Mom leaving or annoyed with Sam or missing Cas, there’s pretty much always a song tailored made for him and his emotions.

Particularly emotions regarding Cas.

There’s playlist after playlist about them and Dean’s steadily working through them all. He’s also bookmarked the one Cas sent him and has no idea how to process the fact that someone made a romantic playlist about them that both of them listen to. It’s funny, right?

Right?

Weeks later, Dean has a moment of weakness and lets Sam choose the music while he drives. They’re bone tired and they’ve been on the road too long. First they had a lead on Kelly in Jackson, Ohio which turns out to be a dud. Then on their way back, they stumble on a case in Flora, Illinois which takes almost a week.

Bruised and exhausted from dismantling a vamp nest, it’s all Dean can do to drive. So when Sam asks if he can put some music on for once, Dean just waves a hand, figuring it’ll be some folk/rock or maybe Celine Dion if he’s really unlucky.

He doesn’t really listen to it for a while, too focused on not falling asleep at the wheel to think about anything other than the road. A few of the songs sound familiar but he doesn’t dwell on it. It’s only after nearly an hour when a particularly distinctive intro kicks in does he actually pay attention.

‘No one on earth could feel like this, I’m thrown and overblown with bliss. There must be an angel playing with my heart…’

“What’s this?” He demands, voice rough from hours of silence.

Sam fidgets in his seat. “It’s Eurythmics.”

“Yeah, I know.” And he does know. He’s played the song himself enough times. “I mean, what’s this playlist?”

“Oh, uh…” Sam holds his phone up and Dean takes his eyes off the road for a second to read the title.

heavenly connection - a destiel playlist

“Dude!” Dean is suddenly painfully awake. “Switch it off!”

“What? Why?” Sam rolls his eyes and lets the song play. “You listen to them all the time. Why can’t we listen to them in the car?”

“Because - ” It’s private. “Because it’s dumb, ok? Switch it off.”

“It’s ‘dumb’? Dean, that’s so - ”

“I said switch it off! NOW!”

“ALRIGHT! Alright. Jeez.” Sam jabs at his phone and huffs.

The car is plunged into silence.

Dean immediately feels stupid. There was no need for him to lose it. No need to shout at all. But there’s something too exposing about hearing the playlists out loud. Dean listens to them shut away in his room, headphones on to block out the rest of the world. They’re not for anyone else to hear.

If this is how he’s going to behave about it, maybe they shouldn’t be for him to hear either.

Besides, he’s got too much to think about now. Mom’s working god knows what, god knows where and Cas is…Cas hasn’t checked in for a while.

He clenches his jaw and pushes a little harder on the accelerator.

He’s going to leave those girly, emotional songs behind. He’s got a job to do and people to save.

The void in his chest rumbles like thunder.

_

Two months later, he goes crawling back to them.

More specifically, he goes back to the playlist Cas sent him.

He plays Florence + the Machine’s Cosmic Love over and over and over until the tears dry on his face and make his skin feel tight and stretched over his skull.

‘The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out - ’

Dead, dead, dead. What had that angel said? Oh, yeah. All the way dead. Gone and not coming back.

‘No dawn, no day. I’m always in this twilight.’

The bunker’s a great place to grieve. It’s easy to shut yourself in there like a tomb and rot. It would be even easier if Sam wasn’t hovering around, trying to feed him and get him to go outside.

What’s worth going outside for?

More monsters, more death, more ways for Dean to fail.

The song changes and he quickly flicks past the hopeful ones. He tried listening to those a few days ago but it was like putting vinegar on a burn.

He stops on Take Me to Church, letting the deep tone wash over him like hot water.

‘The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you. I was born sick, but I love it. Command me to be well.’

The next case they take involves an old house filled with ghosts. Dean plunges the syringe into his chest without hesitation.

It’s not gambling if you don’t care about the outcome.

_

His headphones sit on the bedside table gathering dust while Dean whisper-sings along to Madonna.

He’s gotta pack for Dodge City. It’s a quick turn around but who cares when they’re back up to a full team?

‘It’s like a dream - no end and no beginning. You’re here with me, it’s like a dream.’

“Is this the playlist I sent you?” Cas is in the doorway, broad-shouldered and alive.

“Yeah.” Dean grins. His face flushes a little but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed right now. He’s skipped all the downbeat songs to get to this one.

“Hmm.” Cas nods, a rare and precious smile on his face. “I like this song.”

“Yeah.” Dean has a vague memory of his father in his mind, scowling and flicking the car radio off when ten year old Dean jiggled his leg along to ‘Like a Prayer’. He takes a breath. “Me too.”

_

He doesn’t really use Spotify for anything else.

He doesn’t see the point - he’s got all his favourite albums on cassette or vinyl and he’s got no desire to listen to them digitally, no matter what Sam says.

He finds other music from the playlists though. More Taylor Swift, but Dean didn’t need much persuading there. If he's in the right mood, he likes listening to Florence + the Machine.

The songs are usually a bit weird and they usually remind him of Cas in some way or another. So when he’s been gone from the Bunker for a while, Dean listens to High As Hope.

‘Hunger’ hits him hard.

‘At seventeen I started to starve myself, I thought that love was a kind of emptiness. And at least I understood then the hunger I felt and I didn’t have to call it loneliness.’

He remembers being a kid and passing the last piece of bread to Sammy, stomach rumbling. At least when he was hungry, he couldn’t tell the difference between the space in his stomach and the space in his chest.

Now, he has the luxury of food in the kitchen and his own bed to sleep in. Nothing else to think about other than that ache in his chest.

Then Mom is gone again and the ache turns to fire.

_

He doesn’t listen to the playlists for a long time.

It churns his stomach knowing what Chuck has been doing. Maybe no one even made these playlists at all. Maybe they’re all Chuck’s invention, created to give Dean a soundtrack to his life inside the cage.

He’s trapped like a hamster in a wheel, running and running and never getting anywhere.

He uninstalls Spotify but doesn’t delete his account.

_

God is dead.

Well, not dead but his power has been ripped from him and that’s enough. It’s enough for Dean now. He’s trying to be better. Trying to be the man that…

Eileen’s back and Sam is buzzing around her, giddy with excitement. Dean wants to pack a bag and leave, let them be happy without him dragging them down.

But he’s got nowhere to go and Sam would only be on his ass ten minutes later to drag him back. He tries to be grateful. He tries to be happy in his freedom.

It’s what he wanted.

Dean manages to sit through dinner with the happiest couple on Earth. He laughs along with Eileen’s stories and torments Sam for her entertainment.

Then he goes to bed early, pulls off his clothes and slides beneath the covers. He slips on his headphones and reinstalls Spotify.

‘The End of Love’ is the first song that comes on because Chuck might be gone but the universe still likes to laugh at him. He lets it play because nothing can really make him hurt more than he already is. And he’s still self-destructive enough to lean into the pain.

‘I’ve always been in love with you. Could you tell it from the moment I met you?’

He feels like he’s stood in the water, looking up at a tidal wave high above his head. It’s going to crash down over him and he can’t escape it. No point in even trying.

‘We were a family pulled from a flood.’

He turns his face to let out the first sob into the bed. Just in case Sam’s walking by and hears him. His fingers curl into the pillow and he clings on as he cries, feeling like a child again; wailing and sobbing to his mother because his father put him down.

‘Joshua came down from the mountain with a tablet in his hands, told me that he loved me, and ghosted me again.’

The chasm in his chest is so big, it presses against his skull and makes his toes cold.

Dean thinks if he falls over, he’ll just crack open.

_

‘Feels like fire, I’m so in love with you. Dreams are like angels, they keep bad at bay - ‘

“Really?” Dean tries to mock but he’s smiling so much his cheeks are hurting. “You chose The Power of Love?”

Cas bristles, holding Dean’s hand a little tighter. “Yes. It’s a good song. It’s featured on many of the ‘destiel’ playlists - ”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean grins, his fingers squeezing Cas’ hip slightly. “Weird first dance song, though.”

“Is it? Oh.” Cas looks genuinely troubled and impossibly handsome. Dean wants to kiss him.

Dean can kiss him. It’s fine. Encouraged, even. It’s their wedding, they’re expected to be sappy and embarrassing and make out if they want to.

So he kisses him and completely forgets that they’re supposed to be dancing. Luckily, Cas leads him in a soft sway, one large warm hand on the base of his back.

‘When the chips are down, I’ll be around with my undying, death-defying love for you.’

Cas hums against his lips and pulls away a little. They’re still close enough to share breath. It should be gross but Dean’s too happy to care.

“I stand by my choice.”

“Yeah?” Dean whispers. He’s vaguely aware of the faces, blurry and distant behind Cas’ head. Sam’s out there with Eileen, Garth and Bess, Jody and Donna and the girls. Bobby and Charlie and Stevie from the other world, even Rowena made a very dramatic appearance…they’re all there for them.

Dean’s so full of love he feels like he’s going to burst.

“Yes.” Cas says firmly, and holds Dean close.

‘The power of love. A force from above.’