cockles for @aria-lerendeairâ. her fic is great, Iâll link it once she posts it!

#dc comics#batman#bruce wayne#dc#tim drake#dick grayson#batfamily#batfam#dc fanart



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cockles for @aria-lerendeairâ. her fic is great, Iâll link it once she posts it!

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For the @deancassummerminibang & the lovely @yall-need-exorcisms
Married for a Week
11.6k words. Written for the @deancassummerminibang!
The one where Dean and Cas get fake married. FOR SCIENCE! (Inspired by this video)
[AO3] [Art]
It wasnât until he was standing at a fake altar in front of a fake priest clasping hands with Castiel Novak that Dean thought he may have made a terrible mistake.
As he looked into Castielâs critical and extremely blue eyes, he thought back to how heâd even gotten here.
Ah, yes. Charlie.
Charlie was friends with a sociology researcher. This researcherâs LARPing character was a fairy that Charlie was really interested in fucking so of course she volunteered her single best friend for a study this girl was conducting.
Fucking Charlie.
Well, that wasnât fair. Dean did consent to this, filling out all the paperwork and signing over his life for science. And for money. $500 for one week of marriage wasnât bad.
Dean could feel his hands start to sweat in Castielâs even just thinking about it. Marriage .
Marry your coworker for a week, they said. Itâll be a fun experiment, they said.
$500. Dean heard.
Marrying Castiel was better than a stranger, Dean guessed. At least he knew Castiel, sort of. Theyâd been working together for two and a half years or so. Not together together but their offices were close to each other. And it was a small-ish practice they worked for so they knew each other well enough. Like Dean knew that Castiel would pick up any feline clients if his allergies were acting up and Castiel trusted Dean not to laugh when Castiel had trouble with snakes.
âThereâs a reason it was a snake that got Adam and Eve kicked out of the garden, Dean.â Castiel had told him once. âItâs because theyâre fucking evil.â
They were basically already work married, Dean reasoned. Bringing it home for a week shouldnât be too huge of a deal.
He was hoping he was right.
After their fake vows and the awkward fist bump that they substituted for a marital kiss, Charlieâs friend, Gilda, reminded them of the rules of the study.
âSo, Castiel, youâre going to be living at Deanâs apartment for the week and youâll be sharing a bed, a closet, a bathroom. The whole shebang!â She was way too excited about their fake marriage. âNow, obviously youâll talk to each other while youâre living together but youâre also required to send four texts a dayââ
âEach?â Dean didnât think he sent four texts a week .
âOf course!â Gilda answered like it was obvious. âFour texts a day, each, minimum . You can send more if you like.â
âDo the contents of the texts matter?â Castiel asked, his voice low and serious.
Gilda scrunched her nose. âI donât think so, no.â
Castiel looked at Dean, still serious. âPrepare to receive four poop emojis from me every day.â
Dean laughed. Gilda looked annoyed but carried on. âYouâre also to share five meals over the course of the week. Either home-cooked or eating out is up to you.â
âSo, like, dates.â Dean interrupted again. âFive dates in a week ?â
Gilda looked exasperated now. âNot every moment of time you spend together is a date.â
âSharing a meal is usually considered a date,â Castiel argued.
Gilda huffed out a breath. âYes, fine. But a lunch date or a brunch or something is not a real date. Youâre just eating together.â She looked grumpy. âAnd you guys are married this week; it wouldnât kill you to go on a few dates.â
Dean tried not to wince as he wiped his hands on his jeans. That word again.
âOkay,â he allowed, âSorry. What else do we have to do?â
She looked mollified but hesitant. Dean guessed she hadnât expected them to object so much to sharing meals and now wasnât sure if she should tell them the next bit. They both waited, Castiel helping things by staring at her until she was uncomfortable enough to spit it out. âYou each have to perform two random acts of love. Nice things for each other that arenât planned.â
âRandom acts of love ?â Dean was horrified.
Charlie sighed from where she was standing off to the side. Sheâd been one of their âwitnessesâ for the âwedding.â âDean, you do that shit all the time. Bringing people coffee and cooking someoneâs favorite meal.â She looked at Gilda, conspiratorially. âHe literally sends me a picture of a different dog every morning with a message that he âhopes my day isnât ruff.ââ
Dean blushed. âThatâs not random acts of love , though. I just care about you. Wouldnât love be flowers and chocolate and all that bullshit?â
Gilda smiled, back in her groove again thanks to Charlieâs interference. âNot necessarily! It always made me feel loved when my ex-girlfriend would pack my lunch in the morning.â
Charlieâs head whipped around so fast her own ponytail whacked her in the face. âOw, fuck. Ex - girl friend?â Gilda smiled at her, coyly.
Dean rolled his eyes. âRight, anything else?â
Gilda looked back at him, smile still in place. âWell, we picked you for this study knowing you have married friends so youâre to have one double date with them. This is to explore how it is to hang out with couple friends.â
Dean looked at Castiel. âDo you have married friends?â
Castiel shrugged. âI do but none Iâd feel comfortable dining with.â
Dean sighed. Heâd been afraid of that. âThat means I gotta call Sammy.â His eyes widened, thinking of something for the first time. âYou donât know sign language do you?â
Castiel stared at Dean for a couple of seconds before bringing up his hands to sign yes, why do you ask .
Dean sighed again, relieved. âGreat, wow, youâre already a lot better off than I am.â He turned back to Gilda. âOkay, we should be fine.â
Gilda looked curious but pleased. âGreat! Here are your cameras.â She handed each of them a small, cheap, handheld video recorder. Blue for Castiel and green for Dean. âSo you donât get them confused.â Gilda winked. âJust use these to document your time together. Interesting moments, you can have little confessionals. Weâre going to be having an interview after the week is up but we would like you to use these like diaries! Documenting your week together in real time!â
Dean looked at his camera in distrust and looked over to see Castiel examining his with mild bemusement. He was sure neither of these cameras would see light again until the week was up.
âAaaaand thatâs it!â Gilda beamed. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and threw up a handful of rice. âHappy honeymoon!â
Dean and Castiel winced as the rice hit them, shaking themselves so the loose grains fell to the floor. They looked at each other in shared exasperation before Dean narrowed his eyes and pointed his finger at his new fake husband. âHey.â
Castiel narrowed his eyes too, though that was more his natural look. Dean tried not to smile.
âDonât fall in love with me.â
   âAre you carrying me over the threshold?â Dean joked, pushing his apartment door open. They had completed the ceremony a couple hours ago. Now it was time for Castiel to move in.
Castiel paused in the doorway, tilting his head, his single suitcase set on its wheels. âI will if you wish, but this is your home; isnât it customary you carry me?â
Dean snorted, walking into the room on his own steam. âNot with that much luggage, dude.â He called back, flicking on lights as he walked. âWho am I, Samantha Wright?â
Castiel raised an eyebrow at him. âItâs one suitcase.â
âAnd the heaviest thing Iâve lifted recently was that obese golden retriever last week.â
Castiel smiled, coming into the room. âYes, Mr. Tatkovskyâs pride and joy. How was the Duchess Anastasia?â
Dean groaned and shot Castiel a look, not bothering to elaborate. Cas laughed.
Vet stuff. Vet stuff was a good, safe topic. They were both comfortable in their careers; they knew what they were about when they were being vets.
Unfortunately, they couldnât dwell forever. There were very real, very practical marital concerns that required their immediate attention.
âWhere should I put my things?â
Dean turned away, not wanting to show Castiel the look on his face, as he led him toward his bedroom. Dean had known, intellectually, that they would be sharing his space, but it was still his space. Dean hadnât had a roommate since his brother went to college, and never with someone whose diaper he hadnât changed. Living spaces meant family to Dean, and Cas wasnât⊠that.
He muscled through his anxiety with a gruff, âI cleared a couple drawers for youâ and a hasty retreat to the bathroom. He swore, quietly, when he realized he couldnât hide there long. Â Castiel was going to have toiletries that he would need to set up; his products would be living on Deanâs sink. Casâs toothbrush next to his toothbrush. Dean was feeling vaguely pukey.
âIâm going to go grab a cigarette.â Dean didnât smoke. âYou take your time settling in, Iâll be back up in a bit. Then we canâŠâ But Dean didnât know how to finish the sentence. He hastened out before he could see if Cas noticed.
As soon as he stepped outside he was dialing Sammy.
âHello.â
Dean released a breath, heartened by the sound of his brotherâs voice. âSammy, hey, you busy?â
âToo busy for my favorite newlywed? Never!â Dean was less heartened now. âHow goes the married life?â
Dean couldnât even work himself up to making this sound any less pathetic, he wasnât sure how much time he had. âIâm freakinâ out, man.â he hissed. âI havenât spent any time outside of work with this guy and all of a sudden his shoes are next to my shoes and thereâs a poop emoji in my messages and we have to eat together⊠What if he doesnât like the way I chew? Friendships have been ruined for less.â
âDean.â Sam laughed. âRelax, we both already know heâs going to hate the way you chew.â
Dean groaned. âSamââ
âI know, sorry. But look: he agreed to this. We know you wanted the money and maybe he does too but whatever it is, he signed up so he canât object too badly. And even if it is the worst thing itâs only for a week.â
Dean groaned again. âI know, I know , I get it in my head but when he was setting up his shaving kit in my bathroom I almost had a panic attack.â
âThatâll pass.â A beat. âProbably. Look, you canât think about it like a stranger moving in on your turf. You guys are married.â Dean flinched. âI can hear you flinching, stop it.â Asshole. âIf you need to construct an elaborate backstory for yourself in your head to make this okay, I think thatâs fine. Pretend youâre a demon inhabiting your own body and this guyââ
âCastiel.â
â-Castiel and your vessel already have some involved romantic history. You donât want Castiel to know youâre possessing his real husband so you have to act like nothing is wrong. Is that better?â
Dean mulled it over, kicking aside some of the cigarette butts on the stoop from the actual smokers in the building. âI mean, demon possession, though? There are probably 10 better scenarios that donât have me cast as a demon.â
Sam huffed, half amused, half exasperated. âWhatever, jerk, I was just trying to help.â
âBitch.â Dean grinned. âOh, hey, are you and Eileen free at all this week? Cas and I need to have a double date with a married couple.â
â Another married couple.â Dean scowled. âI can hear you scowling. Yeah, weâre free. Any day specifically?â
Dean told him heâd check with Cas and let Sam know. They hung up and Dean braced himself to walk back into his apartment.
It was worse than Dean thought: it looked exactly the same. Well, almost exactly the same, which is worse than worse. All of his shit was in the same place but there were additions. That wasnât his key on the hook. That wasnât his wallet on the end table. That wasnât his trench coat on the coat rack. What the fuck, a trench coat ?
Youâre a demon. He told himself. You are inhabiting this vessel to wreak so-far unknown unspeakable evil on this earth. You are undercover. Give nothing away .
Castiel emerged from the bedroom in socked feet, his face in that same benignly curious expression. âHello, Dean.â
Dean knew the demon thing wasnât going to work.
Socked feet .
He clapped his hands together once, loudly. âFuck it, first random act of love. Weâre getting ice cream.â
   They did not get ice cream but in fact frozen yogurt, which Dean grumbled about all the way there.
Castiel kept up with the same cool logic from the passenger seat of Deanâs Impala. âItâs serve yourself, Dean. You can get as much as you want and do your own toppings and everything.â
Dean did love cookie dough bits. âSâhealthy, though.â he grumbled anyway.
Castiel shrugged, rolling his eyes. âIt tastes the same.â
âIf you close your eyes.â
Dean winced. It was an automatic response: a reference at the ready. But why a musical? Maybe Castiel didnât notice.
But no, Castielâs look of surprised delight meant he knew exactly what Dean was quoting.
He didnât mention it, though.
Dean was grateful.
âLove is sacrifice,â Castiel continued, resolutely smacking his own thighs, âYou sacrificing fattening frozen dairy in favor of slightly less fattening frozen yogurt means we can really count this as a random act of love.â
Dean grumbled a bit but mostly for show. He was glad Castiel had the same loophole-finding reluctance that he did with this whole mandatory-romance shit.
âAlso, youâre paying. Monetary sacrifice.â
Dean snorted. Little shit.
Castiel did have a point about the self-serving part, though. Dean had probably too much fun combining flavors and topping in his dish, darting between the yogurt machines and the topping station.
âYou gotta do layers, Cas,â Dean explained. âIf you do the froyo all at once, then youâve got all the topping on top and none when you get to the bottom.â
Castielâs mouth twitched in amusement but he didnât look away from where he was carefully stacking toppings. âYou said âfroyo.ââ
Deanâs yogurt was definitely more expensive, heavy from the multiple trips to the yogurt machines. Casâs was mostly just toppings. Dean didnât feel cheated paying for both.
They both paused with their cups after stepping away from the counter, glancing at each other questioningly.
âSo⊠are we gonna sit or take them home orâŠâ
Castiel cocked his head in that way that was becoming very familiar to Dean. âIf we eat them here, does that count as a meal together?â
âThatâs exactly what I was thinking!â Dean grinned, clapping a hand on Castielâs shoulder, causing bits of his tower of toppings to be jostled onto the floor. âWhoops.â He set his yogurt cup on a nearby table as he went to get napkins to clean up the mess.
By the time he got back, Castiel had sat down at the table and begun eating.
âGuess weâre staying then.â Dean muttered to himself, stomach tightening in anxiety.
Hereâs the thing⊠Dean liked to eat. A lot.
He both liked to eat a large quantity of food and he really liked to eat. Food was Deanâs friend and he was very effusive in his appreciation of that friendship.
That is to say heâs been scolded on multiple occasions for chewing with his mouth open, talking with food in his mouth, moaning, sighing, stealing food off of other peopleâs plates, and â on one memorable occasion â forgetting to use his fork.
He often forgot to engage with other people while he was eating, forgetting about everything but the food in front of him.
Itâs why he didnât take dates out to eat. When he had dates, that is.
But Castiel didnât even look up at Dean when he sat down, focusing intently on digging all of the chocolate turtles out of his frozen yogurt.
Dean hesitated, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He stared into his frozen yogurt, swirling the different flavors together in one big frozen muddy pond, when he felt his phone buzz.
Dean glanced at Cas, who was still digging for gold with his small pink plastic spoon, seemingly unaffected. Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket to see he had a text from Castiel.
It was two poop emojis, each with their own emoji that looked like an ice cream dish.
Dean barked out a startled laugh, glancing back at Castiel. Cas, for his part, didnât look up, still messing with his toppings. But Dean could swear he saw just the smallest shadow of a smile.
He grinned, pocketing his phone and picking up his spoon.
They didnât speak at all but Castiel looked up with that same ghost smile at every groan, every lip smack, and every sigh. Dean caught himself going a little bit overboard just to see if he could annoy Castiel. But Cas just smiled every time.
It was an unexpected relief. Dean started smiling back.
It was still a surprise, however, that when theyâd finished their desserts, Castiel reached over and wiped off Deanâs face with his own napkin.
âSo sloppy, darling, honestly.â Castiel smirked. âI canât take you anywhere.â
Dean belly laughed all the way to the car.
  âCas, donât fall in love with me.â
Castiel sighed, dropping the extra pillow at the top of the bed. âOf course not, Dean.â
Seeing Cas like this, soft and dressed down for bed, was weirding Dean out a little bit by how not weirded out he was.
Of course Castiel wore a worn and stretched out ACDC t-shirt to bed. Of course he slept in his boxers. Of course he kept his socks on because he had poor blood circulation in his feet.
âOut of respect for you, Dean. Cold feet when youâre sharing a bed is no joke.â
Nothing weird about any of it.
Socked feet.
Dean shook his head again, focusing on making up the bed so they could share. âIâm just saying, man. Youâre looking mighty cozy.â
Castiel rolled his eyes, climbing into his side of the bed.
Dean had been expecting the first night together to be full of landmines: Do they share the sink to brush their teeth? Are they going to leave the room to change into their pajamas? Does Cas have a weird noise maker machine he needs to sleep?
But Castiel apparently was immune to social landmines because he just did whatever the fuck he wanted, asserting his space in Deanâs apartment as if heâd always been there. He brushed his teeth while Dean was in the shower. He stripped down right there while Dean was flossing. He liked to listen to audiobooks to fall asleep, but he was considerate enough to ask Dean what book he would be okay with. He wanted to avoid spoiling Dean for something he hadnât already read. That was nice.
It calmed Dean in a way he hadnât expected. Yeah, it was strange watching Castiel insert his things among Deanâs possessions but once he was there he was there. No fuss. Not a big deal.
Dean hadnât realized he just needed someone way less dramatic than he was.
Cas was squinting at his phone when Dean climbed into bed, a line of intense concentration between his eyebrows. Dean took a minute to catalogue the expression. There was the frown that meant Castiel didnât understand. There was the frown that meant he was listening. There was the frown that meant he totally thought Deanâs joke was funny but didnât think it appropriate for the workplace.
This frown was apparently Whatâs-a-good-book-for-Dean-and-me-to-fall-asleep-to?
âHow do you feel about Holes ?â
âDrive around them or youâll ruin your suspension.â
Castielâs âStop-being-cuteâ frown. Dean liked that one.
â Holes . The novel. Louis Sachar.â
âWhat, that kidâs book?â Castiel nodded. âI mean, I never read it but I saw the movie.â
Castiel shook his head, sadly. âOh no, Dean, you should really experience the book. The movie is very good but thereâs nothing quite like reading the original text. I wonât ruin that one for you.â He continued browsing.
Pleasant bewilderment weighed on Deanâs eyebrows, quirking his mouth up a tick. âItâs a kidâs book, Cas.â
Castiel didnât look up. âSo it should be a very quick read.â
Dean shook his head, chuckling a bit. He slumped down in the bed, lying flat on his back and letting his eyes slip gently shut. He could have probably fallen asleep like that but, out of politeness, he waited to see if Castiel would ask his opinion again.
It couldnât have been three minutes until Castiel spoke again. âHow about A Wrinkle in Time ?â
Dean smiled, letting his eyes stay shut. âThat book scared the shit out of Sammy as a kid. He kept making me promise I wouldnât let my mind get taken over like that kid Charles Wallace.â
âOh, yes, I suppose that would be a little frightening before bedtime.â Hearing these childlike words in the deep gravelly voice of a grown man like Castiel made Dean laugh again, opening his eyes to look back at him. Castiel didnât seem to understand what was funny (insert frown) but he said nothing, looking back at his phone. Deanâs eyes slipped shut again.
A couple minutes later: â The Outsiders ?â
Dean opened both eyes, narrowing them at Castiel. âWhatâs with all the kidâs books, Cas? I have read adult books too, you know. You donât have to worry about spoiling me for something written for people over the age of 13.â
He wasnât really mad. He was used to people being surprised when they found out how well read he was. Book lovers always thought he was too pretty to be one of them. Or too athletic or not the right kind of nerdy. They were always really shocked that he could quote almost the entire first chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone from memory or that heâd written papers in college exploring the difference in Jane Austenâs form of literary feminism versus more contemporary works by Octavia Butler.
Cas didnât blush or start stammering like Dean expected him to, though. He shouldnât have been surprised â Cas had caught his Rent reference earlier â but he was still slightly thrown when Castiel dismissed him kindly with an, âOf course not, Dean. I just find young adult literature to be more comforting to fall asleep to. Itâs familiar and simple, you know? Like a classic bedtime story.â
The careful thoughtfulness pulled a small smile out of Dean, the whimsy of Casâs reasoning charming him. âYeah, no, I can get that. Charlie likes me to read The Hobbit to her when sheâs sick.â
Castiel nodded, smiling benignly. âI think I have The Hobbit . Would you like to listen to that?â
âThatâd be great, Cas.â
Castiel smiled again, tapping on his phone.
Dean settled into bed, making sure to keep to his side but untensing his body enough to sleep. He usually slept on his side but he didnât want to risk facing Castiel or facing away from him and rolling into his space in the night.
Castiel tapped his phone once more and some introductory music started to play. He set his phone on his nightstand and turned to face Dean, shutting his eyes.
âIn a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.â
Dean studied Cas for a moment: relaxed. Comfortable. Content.
âNot a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.â
The familiar words washed over Dean and made his brain go very quiet. His eyes slipped shut.
He hadnât fallen asleep that easily in years.
  They did not wake up spooning each other.
Dean wasnât sure where the stereotype came from that when two people sleep in the same bed they inevitably gravitate toward each other over the course of the night. Every time he so much as nudged any part of Castiel, Dean was immediately roused from his sleep and scooched the fuck back to his side. He was very conscious of how to share a bed, having grown up sharing beds with his brother where Koala-sleeping was met with an immediate response in the form of a dutch oven.
Not that he thought Castiel would fart on him, it was just a precaution.
Cas had also kept to his side, tensing up when Dean got close. Dean got the message loud and clear. They didnât have to talk about it.
The morning went much the same way as the night before: Castiel pretending he shared space with Dean every morning and doing basically whatever he wanted. He must have woken some time in the night to silence the audiobook because his phone was quiet as he lumbered into the bathroom. Cas was a little less pleasant in the morning than he had been last night. Dean knew from some memorable mornings that Castiel had come to work without drinking coffee that he was not a morning person. Seeing Castiel, sleep-worn and grumpy like this, put Dean in a really good mood. He wasnât sure why.
  The rest of the day proceeded as normal at the clinic, barring the minor argument theyâd had that morning over who was going to drive.
Dean insisted they had to take the Impala because, âNo husband of mine is going to be seen in a fucking Prius.â
Castiel protested that, countering with, âDean, the only music you have in your car is hair metal and Taylor Swift. Weâre taking my car.â
They took Castielâs car. But only because Dean didnât want to pay for gas.
This pattern continued for the next couple days: they went to their separate offices, met with their separate clients. Castiel took Deanâs cats and Dean took Casâs snakes. They comforted families whose pets had to be put down and helped excited children name their newborn puppies. There were a few more smiles and inside jokes between them but otherwise it was business as usual.
Sharing meals wasnât nearly as big a deal as they made it, seeing as they usually took their lunch breaks at the same time anyway, leaving the clinic under the care of their resident, Krissy. They continued their tradition of getting food and not talking, usually with Cas sending text messages with poop emojis eating an emoji form of whatever they themselves had decided on that day.
They fulfilled their five-meal requirement in the first two days. Dean had already completed one of his random acts of love on the first day with the frozen yogurt and Castiel made Dean his own playlist of acceptable music for their drives to and from work. They texted each other exclusively in emojis but they hit at least seven a day.
They ate dinner on the couch where they were making their way through watching Property Brothers on Netflix, mildly arguing over which twin was more attractive. When they went to bed they would listen to Tolkein, falling asleep to the sounds of adventure.
It was basically like a friendship. Just all the time.
They were fucking killing this marriage game.
  âCanât we just get beer?â Dean frowned at the selection of wines Castiel was currently also frowning at. âWine is too complicated. What if Samâs serving fish? We canât drink red wine with fish. But I fucking hate white wine.â
âBeer is for friendship-like camaraderie,â Cas said, gravely, inspecting a bottle of Moscoto. âWine is for married people.â
Dean groaned, scuffing his foot against the floor like a child. âSo just because I have a husband I have to drink fruity shit?â Castiel smirked and Dean tried not to smile in response. âIâm a man, dammit. What about scotch, isnât scotch fancy?â
Dean shuffled after Cas as Cas ignored him in favor of scanning the wall of reds. âScotch doesnât pair well with foods. Scotch pairs well with cigars.â At this Cas turned to level a look at Dean. âBut cigars smell bad and no husband of mine will share my bed after smoking one.â
Dean blushed, as he always did when Cas casually mentioned sharing beds. Because, yes, they shared a bed â had been for the better part of a week already â but itâs not the kind of âsharing a bedâ heâd imagined married people did. No sex for one.
Not that he thought about having sex with Cas.
âWeâre getting the Syrah,â Cas said definitively, grabbing two bottles off the shelf. âThis one or this one?â
They were red wines which was as far as Deanâs wine comprehension went. He pointed vaguely to the wine that had the prettier label. âWhy Sarah?â
âSyrah,â Castiel corrected, mildly, putting the other wine on the shelf, âis a dark fruit wine, and dark fruit wines are supposed to be best with grilled meats of all kinds.â
âGrilled meats?â
âYeah, grilled meats. Like the brisket Samâs been smoking for the past seven hours.â
Dean did a double take. âSamâs been smoking a brisket for seven hours?â
âYes.â
âAnd you know this.â
Cas just nodded, grasping the wine Dean chose in two hands, and making his way toward the cash register. The casual way Castiel said it, as if it was completely normal for him to be more informed about Deanâs brother than Dean.
Dean didnât like it.
âOh, well Iâm glad he told you,â Dean grunted, his hands fidgeting. âWouldnât want to go in blind. Glad he contacted you. Glad he told you what was up.â
They were in line now so there wasnât much for Cas to frown at outside of Dean. Dean muttered at the floor to avoid it.
âYeah, whatever.â Dean cleared his throat gruffly and flexed his shoulders. âItâs fine.â
âDean.â
Dean looked up at the soft way Cas said his name. He wasnât frowning but instead had a warm, understanding smile. âSam called while you were in the shower. I just picked up the phone.â
The wind left Deanâs sails immediately. âOh.â
Castiel chuckled. âYeah, oh.â He took one hand off the wine bottle and lightly cupped Deanâs forearm. âHeâs your brother, Dean.â Cas smirked. âAnd heâs my brother-in-law. At least for the next three days.â
Dean laughed, looking at the floor again, this time bashfully. âYeah, I know, Iâm sorry. Itâs justâŠâ Dean didnât know how to finish. What he was feeling.
Cas nodded anyway, that same warm smile on his face.
âNext customer!â
Dean startled, looking over Casâs shoulder at the empty spaces in line leading right up to the cash register. âSorry! Sorry,â Dean called, nudging Cas with the arm Cas wasnât still gripping. Cas shot him one last smirk before letting go and walking toward the register, his face falling back into his neutral expression of bewildered disgruntlement.
Dean texted Cas the poop emoji next to a wine bottle.
  It took a lot of convincing, but after Dean promised that it could count as Castielâs second act of love, they were allowed to drive to Sam and Eileenâs house in the Impala.
âAnd youâre going to tell Gilda that my acts of love were better and more thoughtful than anything you did,â Castiel pouted from the passenger seat.
âYes, dear. Of course, dear.â Dean grinned, one hand on the steering wheel.
It hadnât occurred to him since he got in the driverâs seat how long it had been since heâd driven his baby. After the first day, heâd mostly stopped putting up a stink about driving his own car to work, unwilling to displease a grumpy morning Cas. Starting up the engine and hearing her roar felt just like coming home.
Sam was waiting outside when they pulled up, his arms draped over Eileen.
Dean grinned over at Cas as he parked, excited to introduce him to his better half. Sam represented everything Dean had done right, with his wife and his career and his white picket fence. But looking at Cas, though his face looked like it was in his usual perplexed expression, a bit of uncharacteristic nervousness showed behind his eyes.
Castiel, the same guy who inserted himself so seamlessly into Deanâs life so it was like heâd always been there. Castiel who took Deanâs obnoxious eating habits in stride and who considered Deanâs literary preferences. Castiel who Dean hadnât seen shaken during this entire experiment was nervous to meet Deanâs gentle giant of a brother.
He obviously didnât want to show it, keeping his face carefully casual in a way that was only casual for Cas. If Dean hadnât been cataloguing his expressions for the better part of a week, he might not have seen the change. But it was there, and Dean didnât want it to be.
He hesitated for only a second before throwing open his door and stepping out of the car, quickly rounding the back to open Casâs door for him.
Cas blinked at him in surprise when Dean threw his door open, holding out a hand to help Cas out. He followed Deanâs lead, though; as he gripped the wine bottle in one hand and Deanâs hand in the other, he pulled himself from the vehicle.
Dean smiled at him once they were facing each other and wouldnât look away until Cas smiled back.
Once he was smiling and mildly pink in the cheeks, Dean hauled him by his hand up the steps to meet the married Winchesters.
Er, the other married Winchesters.
Would Cas take his name?
âSammy!â Dean went in to hug his brother, one armed since his other was still firmly gripping Casâs hand.
âH-hey, Dean.â Sam smiled, laughing a little nervously. Dean got why when Sam shot a look at his and Casâs clasped hands.
âWhat? I canât hold hands with my husband?â He heard Cas laugh softly behind him and squeezed his hand once before letting go so he could sign for Eileen.
âSam, Eileen, this is Castiel.â Dean paused after sign-spelling Casâs name. He turned to him. âDo you have a name sign, Cas? Your full name is a finger fumble waiting to happen.â
Cas nodded, bringing his right hand up to make a âCâ and then touching his thumb and forefinger together to tap it to the side of his mouth and immediately swatting in front of it.
Dean tried the sign a few times, hitting himself in the face a couple times trying to get it fluid, before turning and repeating the sign to Eileen. âCastiel.â Name sign.
Eileen smiled and turned to Cas, signing something that was too quick for Dean to get but included part of Casâs name sign. Cas blushed but, smiling slightly, he passed the bottle of wine to Dean who then passed it to Sam before responding in kind. Eileen laughed.
Dean turned to Sam, an eyebrow raised. âDid you get any of that?â
Sam shrugged, frowning approvingly at the wine. âSomething about bees? Thatâs what the last half of Casâs name sign means.â
âBees?â Dean turned back to Cas. Casâs cheeks were red, obviously having heard everything. He avoided Deanâs eye, probably for the first time ever.
âCome on, Cas, what is it?â
Cas sighed, glancing over at Eileen who grinned at him. âEileen asked why I chose a bee for my name sign.â He spoke and signed at the same time. He was much better at it than Sam or Dean. âI told her that when I was a child I was obsessed with bees and would be interested in very little else. I chose the sign for bee for my name because I wanted to be one.â
Dean smiled but didnât laugh like Sam and Eileen. The words âchildâ and âsignâ together like that caught his attention. âYou could sign as a kid, Cas? Thatâs pretty cool.â
Because Dean wasnât talking directly to Eileen, he didnât bother to sign. He knew if she really wanted to know what he was saying, she was accomplished enough at reading lips that sheâd be able to figure it out. But Castiel signed what Dean was saying as he spoke, without even thinking about it. It was like it was second nature to him.
He continued to sign his own words, his nimble hands precise and fluid in their movement. âYes, well, itâs a bit of a long story. Perhaps for another time.â
Dean kept poking at him, however, until Eileen intervened.
âDean, leave Cas alone,â she said aloud, her voice practiced and nice even though she couldnât hear it, âCome on, we should probably head inside, the brisket should be ready soon.â
  Dinner was amazing.
Dean was definitely the better cook between him and his brother, but give Sammy a grill and half a day and he could do alright.
It also didnât hurt that Eileen had made the sides. And his and Casâs wine choice kicked ass, too.
It would be beyond rude to have a conversation when one of the participants couldnât hear it â and their hands were too busy for signing â so, thanks to Eileen, Dean and Castiel were able to continue their streak of sharing a meal and not talking. But this time, Dean had the added pleasure of grossing out his brother with his chewing and having his husband defend him.
âCas, youâve been sharing meals with my brother all week and you havenât killed him yet? How?â
Cas shrugged, putting down his fork so he could sign for Eileen who wasnât even looking, so focused on her mac and cheese. âHeâs just enjoying himself, letting himself revel in his satisfaction. I quite like Deanâs openness in expressing pleasure.â
Eileen snorted again, apparently at least catching the end of Casâs speech. Dean just grinned and grabbed Casâs hand to kiss his knuckles. Cas blushed. Heâd blushed more during this one dinner than he had in four days of marriage.
Dean grinned harder.
âSo, Cas, now can you tell us the long story? About why you could sign so young? Itâs another time.â
Sam and Eileen both shot Dean looks of exasperation, obviously thinking Dean tactless. But, aside from the residual blush on Casâs face, he didnât seem to object the question.
âWell, both of my parents are deaf and they raised me believing I was deaf as well. I guess as an infant I didnât respond to sounds the way a hearing baby would and so they believed Iâd inherited the hearing loss. I developed the same as any baby, itâs just that my first words werenât aloud. ASL is actually my first language, itâs how I first learned to communicate. It wasnât until I was in kindergarten that I signed and found the other children couldnât understand me that I first spoke.â
Dean could feel himself gaping. âBut, Cas, thatâs crazy! They must have known you could hear when you, I donât know, laughed at something funny on TV or something.â
Cas shook his head. âNo sound on any of the TVs. They were all subtitled. My parents didnât watch much television to begin with. They read a lot of books. I watched the bees.â
Dean just shook his head, not sure if he wanted to laugh. âCas, buddy, I gotta tell you, thatâs the weirdest shit Iâve ever heard.â
Cas smiled embarrassedly back. Sam and Eileen rolled their eyes.
After dinner they played Cards Against Humanity, because it was fun and the brothers were awful and the card game didnât have a lot of talking when you could just read the cards. Cas surprised no one by being the purest snowflake to ever play the game, picking such sweet cards like âa really cool hatâ and âa micropig wearing a raincoat and booties,â (going predictably pink when Dean played âBees?â) and being absolutely horrified by âAuschwitzâ and âtwo dicks at the same time.â Eileen was actually the most fucked up, laughing maniacally every time she managed to make one of the men stammer or blush. Sam ended up winning, again surprising no one, and as the winner, he got to pick who helped him clean up dinner.
Of course he picked Dean.
Dean groaned as he pushed into the kitchen.
âAre you punishing me or did you just want to get me alone so we could talk about our feelings?â
Sam loitered by the door, checking to make sure their spouses were fully distracted. âThe second one.â
âSo youâre punishing me.â Dean groaned again, just for the drama of it and to see the look it put on Samâs face.
There. That look.
âDean, remember how you called me on the verge of a panic attack less than five days ago?â
Dean grabbed random dishes off the table and moved them toward the sink. âYeah.â
Sam didnât bother to respond, just leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Waiting.
Dean sighed. âSo I got over it, what?â
Samâs eyes widened. âGot over it? Dean, Iâve known you my entire life. When have you ever just âgotten overâ something?â
âAre you gonna help me with this shit or is this part of my punishment?â
Sam sighed, taking more dishes over to Dean so he could wash them.
Sam watched him for a minute before asking, âWas it the demon tip? Are you sleeping with him? Whatâs going on?â
Dean flushed. âNo! Weâre notâ that wasnât part of the deal. Weâre just being married, like weâre supposed to be.â
âYeah, and itâs an experiment, Dean, you werenât actually supposed to fall in love.â
Dean dropped the plate he was washing and it landed with a splash in the soapy water, both of the Winchestersâ clothes darkening in spots from the spatter.
They both jerked back, surprised, and Sam looked up at Dean with his mouth gaping.
âDean⊠holy shit, I was kidding. I didnât think you were actuallyââ
âIâm not. Iââ Dean reached for words. He couldnât grasp them. âIâm not. Weâre friends, you know? Weâve gotten a lot closer in the past few days. It could have been a disaster but itâs been kind of⊠the opposite.â
Dean thought about how nice itâs been, having so much easy companionship.
Being with Cas wasnât like being with other people. He didnât have to talk if he didnât want to. He didnât have to entertain Cas, didnât have to make sure he was happy or satisfied. But he knew if he did want to talk, Cas was always there and willing to listen. He could show him a funny cat video or tell him a joke or make him a meal and Cas would smile or laugh or be endlessly appreciative.
Dean had loved living with Sam growing up but there was always the anxiety, the worry that Sam was safe and happy. Being with Cas was different: it was all of the comfort of being with someone who understood you with none of the pressure to keep them alive.
âI like Cas,â Dean finished, finally, âI like being around him. I didnât realize how lonely I was living alone.â
Sam grimaced in sympathy. âSo what are you going to do when the week is over?â
Dean shrugged, frowning. âYou know, itâs kind of criminal that I work as a veterinarian and I donât have a dog.â
  Dean saved his final Act of Love until their last day of marriage.
They were âmarriedâ on a Monday which meant the coming Monday was booked for their divorce. Theyâd finished The Hobbit audiobook the night before, so Dean figured this Sunday would be the perfect time for his grand gesture.
âHey, Cas, you busy?â
Castiel was sitting by the window in their â Deanâs â bedroom, looking out at the trees. âHmm?â
âWatching the bees, Cas?â Dean grinned, doing Casâs name sign.
Cas rolled his eyes, not looking away from the window. âThere are no bees this high up, Dean. Not without the flower boxes you wouldnât let me put in.â Dean grinned. âI just like how the wind moves through the leaves,â Cas continued, wistfully.
Dean was glad Cas was still looking out the window. Glad he couldnât see the stupid smile on his face.
âWell, if you want to take a break from that, look what I got.â
Cas turned, looking at Deanâs face before his eyes dropped to his hands.
His eyes widened just a little and his mouth dropped open in a surprised smile. â Holes ? You bought the book?â
Dean shrugged, bouncing his shoulders to try and play off the movement. âWell, I mean, you were right: it is kind of a short book. And I really wouldnât mind reading it.â Cas kept smiling. Dean took a deep breath. âAnd, you know, since weâre getting divorced tomorrowââ Casâs smile faltered a bit but he nodded. âI figured we could spend our last afternoon together reading. Like I could read this out loud to you.â
Casâs mouth dropped open in surprise again. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before finally choking out, âDean.â
Dean sat on the bed, leaning toward Cas. âYouâve got all your audiobooks but I figure youâve never had someone read just for you. Not when your parents never talked out loud to you as a kid. Youâve never seen someoneâs face while they read, youâve never had someone stop to appreciate something in the book.â Dean shrugged again. More gently this time. âI thought this would be something youâd like.â
Cas nodded slowly, blue eyes brimming with something that looked a lot like adoration. âI would. I really would.â
Dean looked away, unwilling to confront the emotions in Casâs eyes. âCool, cool. Well, um.â He cleared his throat, patting the bed beside him. âWhy donât you get comfy here and we can get started.â
Dean stood up so Cas could settle himself in the bed, turning to his bedside drawer to dig out his wireframes.
Cas smiled curiously when he turned back to him. âI didnât know you wore glasses.â
âI just need them if Iâm reading for a long time.â Dean pushed them up self-consciously. âI donât like to wear them around the office.â
Cas smirked, knowingly. âThe Duchess Anastasia.â
Dean breathed a laugh. âThe Duchess Anastasia.â
Cas was curled up under the covers and, even though theyâd been sharing a bed for six nights, something about being together under the blankets in the brightness of day turned it into something Dean didnât want to deal with. He sat on top of the covers.
âOkay.â Dean cleared his throat, sitting so his back was against the headboard. Casâs head was on the pillow near Deanâs hip. He looked up at him with eager interest. âOkay, so you know I havenât read this before, so remember that this isnât going to be as good as the professionals you listen to all the time.â
Cas smiled. âI know, Dean.â
Dean shifted, settling himself into reading. âIf I get too excited or trip over words, Iâm sorry. I canât remember the last time I talked for a long time.â
Cas just poked him in the hip, frowning up at him impatiently.
Dean laughed. âOkay, okay, here we go.â
He opened the book and started to read.
  When they woke up they were spooning.
It had been a long afternoon. A good one, but a long one.
Dean had never realized how tiring it was to just read and talk for hours. He ended up getting out of bed and pacing a bit while reading. He sometimes had to pause and get a drink before he could continue, his voice too hoarse to be heard. He stopped several times just to talk at Cas, puzzling through some of the connections in the book. Cas never revealed anything, just smiling mildly and tracking Deanâs face with his eyes.
At one point, when Dean pulled back the covers and got back in the bed, Cas surprised him by curling into his chest. Dean froze, looking down at Casâs head.
Cas had kept to himself for most of the week. Sure, they had held hands the one time but Dean had initiated that. He would nudge Dean here and there, grab his arm and shove him playfully, but when they were in bed or on the couch, Castiel was very careful about touching.
âDonât stop,â Cas had said. âPretend Iâm not here.â
Which made Dean think Castiel had carefully considered this move and then done it anyway.
Dean unfroze, slowly, carefully. He rested one of his hands in Casâs hair and Cas hummed in approval. Dean left his hand there, sometimes scratching at Casâs scalp. Dean would feel the rumble in Casâs chest every time he did it.
By the time Dean finished the book, Cas was asleep. It was fair, considering heâd read the book before, but Dean was a little disappointed Cas wasnât awake so he could talk about the book with him. He wanted to see Casâs indulgent smile at Deanâs excitement. He wanted to feel the rumble of Casâs laughter when they were twined so close together. But Dean contented himself to feeling Casâs breath on his shirt and the warmth of his skin.
It wasnât a charged contact like Dean was used to. There hadnât been a pull for Dean to feel more skin or make Cas moan. He maybe would have wanted to pull Cas closer, maybe would have wanted to place a gentle kiss in his hair. But Cas was asleep and couldnât consent, and it wasnât like Dean wasnât happy with the situation as it was. He was extremely comfortable and exhausted from the marathon reading session so, staying where he was, Dean had followed Cas into sleep.
So he guessed that answered that question: It was easy to wake up spooning if you fell asleep tangled up in the first place.
Dean must have shifted down at some point in the night because he was fully horizontal, lying on his side, with Castiel curled behind him, his arm draped over Deanâs stomach. Deanâs neck tickled where Casâs hair brushed the skin at the top of his shirt and his cheek was pressed firmly between Deanâs shoulder blades, the cool wind of his breath ruffling the fabric.
Dean was the little spoon. It wasnât wholly unexpected.
Being as closely pressed as they were, it wasnât surprising that the change in Deanâs breathing, speeding up out of the evenness of sleep, would rouse Cas into wakefulness.
He whined and ground his forehead into Deanâs back, shaking his head as if rejecting consciousness hard enough would put him back to sleep.
Dean huffed out a laugh. âCas.â
Castiel froze, his head stilling against Dean, his arm tightening unconsciously on Deanâs waist. Dean turned in Castielâs arm, staying close, but bringing himself face to face with Cas. Cas scooted back so he could see him.
Dean took in Casâs expression. His eyes were wide, scared but also curious. His eyebrows were cast down in cartoonishly characteristic diagonals, giving him the sad eyes of Eeyore and young Simba, post-stampede. His lips were pulled in between his teeth, as if he was holding his breath. The breath came out in a stutter when Dean lifted his hand to brush the hair off of Casâs forehead.
âIs this okay?â Dean asked, bringing down his hand to cup Casâs face.
Cas nodded, his voice even rougher from sleep. âI was going to ask you the same thing.â
Dean chuckled, the laugh no more than a huffed breath across Casâs cheek. âYou didnât seem to care if I objected to cuddling when you glomped onto me last night.â
Casâs cheeks tinged pink. âThatâs different: we were both awake and aware. And you were reading so itâs like we had something else to focus on. It wasnât soââ
âUnguarded.â
Cas nodded, curling his hand against Deanâs chest, his other arm still slung over his middle.
Dean smiled softly. âYeah, Cas, itâs fine. Itâs marriage: spooning is practically mandatory.â
Cas didnât laugh, instead bringing his arm back from around Dean and hugging it to his own chest. Dean frowned.
Cas looked up at him, his face blank. âDivorce today.â
Dean nodded, pulling his hand back from Casâs face. âYup. And we didnât schedule any appointments today at work so...â Dean shrugged as much as he could while lying down.
He meant that to mean they could stay in bed for a while. That they could talk or snuggle or whatever. He was enjoying the closeness. He wanted it to continue.
But Cas brought his other hand back from Deanâs chest. âRight.â
Dean sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, to put some distance between him and Cas. Cas let out an audible sigh of relief and Dean turned to face him, his eyebrows weighed down with concern. âWhatâs up, Cas? Whatâs going on?â
Cas pulled himself to sitting, too, bringing his knees up to his chest, his back to the headboard. âNothing,â he said, wrapping his arms around his knees. âDonât worry about it.â
âLike hell I wonât worry about it.â Dean said, almost angrily. âWeâve been great all week. You snuggled right up to me last night and now you decide to clam up on me? Come on, what else are husbands for?â
âYouâre not my husband.â
Dean physically drew back, surprised at the icy steel Cas infused in those words. It was accusation and condemnation. It bit and growled.
This was not a Castiel Dean had seen. Before this week he knew professional Cas: the vet whose hair was maybe a little unruly but whose temperament was cool enough to calm even the most nervous Chihuahua. Over the past couple days heâd seen curious Cas, playful Cas, embarrassed Cas, contemplative Cas, and last night (Deanâs favorite) cuddly Cas. This was not any of those.
This was an angry Cas. But⊠Dean took in Casâs posture, his hands clenching and unclenching against his calf, folded closely to his chest. His eyebrows were tilted in angry slopes but his eyes were wide where they were downcast.
This wasnât just angry Cas. This was hurt Cas. This was scared Cas.
Dean didnât like it.
âAlright then,â Dean started. Cas glared at his knees, not looking up. âWe can just⊠get ready and go, then. Weâll grab breakfast or something on the way to the lab.â
Cas nodded to show he understood and Dean disappeared into the shower.
There was no poop emoji waiting for him when he came back out.
  âOkay, first weâre going to be doing your individual closing interviews, and then weâll review your video diaries from the week, and then weâll do one more group interview and then you can be on your way!â
âAnd the $500?â Dean asked.
Gilda rolled her eyes. âYour check is in the mail, Dean. I hope that hasnât been the only thing youâve thought about all week.â
It hadnât been. Dean had actually completely forgotten about the money on the second day, only remembering it now that they were back in the lab. But Gilda didnât need to know that.
He shrugged, neither confirming nor denying.
Gilda rolled her eyes again.
âCastiel, youâll come do your interview with me. And Dean, Iâm going to let you talk to my trusty assistant.â
âOh no,â Dean groaned as Charlie popped up grinning next to him.
âHiya, handmaiden!â
Dean turned to Gilda, desperately. âIâm not going to be able to give a serious interview if Charlieâs doing it.â
âSorry, Dean,â Gilda shrugged, delicately. âCharlie made an excellent point: Youâre only going to open up to someone youâre comfortable with. Charlie is the only person we have on hand.â
Charlieâs cheeks dimpled, elfishly, as she looped Deanâs arm with hers. âCome on, Butternut, itâs time for a girl chat.â
Dean groaned a bit. He could swear he caught a hint of a smile on Casâs face before he was dragged away. But perhaps that was wishful thinking.
Charlie pulled him into a side room about the size of a walk-in closet. It had two chairs facing each other, a hanging lightbulb, and that was about it.
She pulled the string on the bulb and sat down. âSit. Letâs dish.â
Dean sighed, sinking into his own chair.
âSoâŠâ Charlie started, her hands folded in front of her, looking at Dean in this wickedly curious kind of way. âDid you guys consummate?â
Dean winced and closed his eyes. âCharlie.â
âFine, fine, youâre right, that wasnât a real question, hang on.â
She pulled a small spiral notebook out of her back pocket and flipped it open. Holding her phone in her other hand, she hit record and set it on her knee.
âOn a scale from 1-10 of how hard you expected marriage to be, before this experiment, you gave it an 8. How do you feel now?â
Dean didnât take nearly as long to answer as he thought he should have. âThree.â
Charlie looked visibly surprised, her eyebrows hiking up her forehead. âA 3? You went down 5?â
Dean nodded. Charlie waited, probably hoping Dean would elaborate, but Dean just sat, arms folded, saying nothing.
Charlie sighed, wrote something, and moved on to the next question.
There was some stuff about their living arrangements and daily routine, and she checked his phone for his text messages (she had a good chuckle about the poop emojis) before she got to the tricky stuff.
âWere there things that you did or didnât do this week that you thought might or might not happen in a real marriage?â
Dean remembered this question from the âbeforeâ survey. Itâs the question heâd been referring to as âthe sex questionâ in his head. In the âbeforeâ survey, heâd said, âI expect we wonât have sex and thatâs something that definitely happens in real marriages.â
When Charlie asked this time, though, he said, âNo. Nothing.â
Charlieâs eyebrows climbed higher than before. âNothing? Because before you saidââ
âI know what I said,â Dean interrupted. âI changed my mind.â
âYou changed your mind in that you had sex with him or you decided marriages donât need it?â
âCharlieâŠâ
âHey, this one is an actual question, and you brought it up in your initial interview. I actually do need elaboration. For science.â
Dean sighed and closed his eyes. âNo, we didnât have sex. We didnât need to. It felt like a marriage because of all the other stuff.â Dean opened his eyes, meeting Charlieâs gaze. âSex just wasnât part of it.â
Charlie nodded and leaned forward, whispering. âBut you wanted to, right? Like you thought about it?â
Dean hesitated, then shrugged. âI wouldnât have said no. But it also wasnât something I was really thinking about, you know? We were doing other shit.â
Charlie smirked and Dean groaned. âNot like that, you fucking pervert. No, like reading together, and talking about work, and arguing over which Property Brother was hotter.â
Charlie pulled a âduhâ face. âDrew.â
âThatâs what I said!â
They both laughed and Charlie moved on to questions about their shared meals and their double date with Sam and Eileen.
âYeah, I didnât know Cas had this weird thing with sign language.â Dean did Casâs name sign and laughed to himself.
âWhat was that?â Charlie asked, trying to repeat the motion.
âOh, that was Casâs name sign. Itâs a âCâ with the word âbeeâ after it.â He laughed again, repeating the movement.
Charlie rolled her eyes. âOh, like thatâs any less dorky thanââ She did the sign for âDâ and then two cutting motions on the flat of her other hand. âPie.â âI bet Cas was a kid when he picked his, whatâs your excuse?â
Dean snorted but he was blushing.
When they got to the part about random acts of love, Charlie was completely unsurprised that the things Cas did for Dean involved music and his car.
âSuch a simple boy, God love ya.â
She was way more interested in Deanâs reading Holes .
âHold up. Youâve never read Holes? â
âWell now I have.â
Charlie huffed. âWhatever, but I mean, really? The best movie adaptation of all time and youâd never read the original source material?â She looked genuinely upset. âIâm ashamed at you.â
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, laughing. âAre you sure youâre not just jealous? Youâre not the only person Iâve read aloud to, now.â
âNo, Iâm not jealous, but that is interesting.â She peered at him, inquisitively. âYou donât like to talk much.â
Dean snorted. âI donât dislike talking.â
âNo, but you use your words, you know? You donât just let them hang, you make them do something. And if you donât think theyâre going to do anything, you donât say anything. You donât just like to hear the sound of your own voice.â
Dean cocked his head, confused. Charlie grinned at him.
âYou read to Cas because you thought it would do something for him. You talked for six hours just because you thought Cas would like it.â
âYeahâŠ?â
Charlie just spread her hands, her face smug. âThatâs an act of love.â
Dean was about to protest that that was the whole point â Â that that was what they were assigned â but he knew what she meant.
He didnât do it for the assignment. Not really. He did it because he wanted to.
  Cas was holding his little blue camera when they stepped back out into the main lab and Gilda was lowering a projection screen.
âHey, uh, I need to go get my camera,â Dean started, jerking his thumb towards the door. âItâs in my car.â At least it should be, seeing as Dean hadnât touched it since they gave it to him. He thanked God theyâd driven the Impala today.
Gilda waved him off. âYou can get it later, I already got your video files.â
Dean blinked. âWhat? I didnâtââ
âYou emailed them to me.â Gilda looked at Dean like he was being dense on purpose. âBut youâll have to wait your turn, I promised Castiel he could go first.â
âCasââ but before he could finish, the lights dimmed and Casâs face was filling up the screen.
It was a little off center, like Cas was holding the camera away from himself but he couldnât see on the screen where the lense was pointing. He was frowning at the device as he tried to steady it and Dean couldnât help but smile at the expression.
âHello,â the Cas on screen greeted, âIâm Castiel Novak and this is day one of the marriage experiment. Iâm packed and Iâm about to drive to Dean Winchesterâs apartment. I have to admit Iâm looking forward to this week. Iâve been... studying Dean for some time, now, and Iâm curious as to how our relationship will grow from here.â
Dean chuckled and glanced over at Cas in the present who was bright red, despite the fact that his face otherwise hadnât changed from his usual grumpy expression.
The next clip was a blurry shot from through Deanâs bedroom window. He could see himself on the stoop, clearly not smoking, and talking animatedly on the phone to Sam. He couldnât hear anything he was saying but Cas apparently could. He turned the camera back on himself, his frown weighted with worry. âDean doesnât seem to be as excited about this as I am. Iâm hoping heâll change his mind.â
Dean glanced over at Cas again. He was looking at the floor now, playing with the little plastic camera in his hands. Dean walked over to stand next to him, bumping him with his shoulder. When Cas looked up, Dean smiled at him. Casâs mouth twitched in response.
The next couple clips were taken in random snatches of their everyday life. There was one that was just Cas brushing his teeth while you could hear the shower going in the background. There was one of Cas narrating his trip to the grocery store, complaining about how much floss Dean used. There was one that Cas had somehow got of the two of them without Dean noticing, watching Property Brothers and getting really passionate about backsplash tiles. These were intercut with little confessionals with Cas where he would say things like, âDean is a lot more self-conscious then I thought he would be,â and, âDean does this thing when heâs nervous where he looks down at the ground and overcorrects, talking like heâs not bothered at all. Iâm trying different things but I think the best thing to do to break him out of it is make him laugh.â
And then there were ones of Dean that Cas seemed to take just because he thought they were worth remembering. There was one at work where Cas had caught him playing with one of the puppies. There was one Cas must have taken on the way to Sam and Eileenâs of Dean driving the Impala and singing along to one of his tapes, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. And there was more than one of Dean sleeping: either napping on the couch or conked out after dinner in his La-Z-Boy or after he thought Cas had gone to bed. And Cas always whispered, âSleep well, Dean. Iâm glad itâs you.â
The final clip had obviously been taken that morning while Dean was in the shower. Cas on screen looked very upset, his hair a giant puff of anxiety. Dean reached over and touched present Casâs elbow as if that would calm some of past Casâs distress.
âWell,â the Cas on screen started with a heavy sigh, âItâs D-day. âDâ standing for âdivorce.â The point I have been dreading all week.â He ran a hand through his hair, giving clue to how it got that way. âIâve really had the best time and I donât want it to end. But this isnât a real marriage, or a real marriage for Dean. Dean wouldnât want to go on just like this with nothing more. And I donât want to have sex with him, so.â He sighed again, looking down. A long moment passes before he looks back up. âI donât regret this. This really was a good challenge to myself and a great experience. I just wish things could be different.â
And with that, the screen went black.
Cas wouldnât look at Dean. Dean looked over at Charlie, unsure what to do. She made a gesture with her hands that was almost too complicated to interpret but Dean thought he figured it out. He reached over and grabbed Casâs hand. Charlie gave a thumbs up.
Cas still didnât look at Dean but he squeezed his hand. Dean squeezed back.
Suddenly the screen lit back up. It was a little tilted and out of focus, like the camera was just left somewhere and started recording by itself. When Sam walked into frame, though, Dean knew that wasnât the case.
âDammit.â
The kitchen.
Sam had set him up.
âSo I got over it, what?â
âThat wasnât part of the deal. Weâre just being married, like weâre supposed to be.â
âIt could have been a disaster but itâs been kind of⊠the opposite.â
âI like Cas. I like being around him.â
This video wasnât nearly as well composed as Casâs. It wasnât clear, it wasnât as revealing. But this was a confession Dean hadnât willingly given and so Dean thought he got full points for vulnerability on this one.
Cas squeezed his hand. Dean looked at him.
His head was cocked in that same familiar way and his eyes were a little red, but there was also a shadow of a smile. âYou like me?â
Dean released an exasperated laugh. âOf course I like you, Cas. Wasnât that kind of obvious this morning?â
Cas shook his head, his smile becoming more real. âNo, I mean, even without sex or anything. You like me without it?â
Dean flushed but nodded. âYeah, Cas, even without it.â
Charlie cleared her throat, loudly. When both Dean and Cas turned to look at her she smiled devilishly and hit play on her phone.
âI wouldnât have said no. But it also wasnât something I was really thinking about, you know? We were doing other shit...Not like that, you fucking pervert. No, like reading together, and talking about work, and arguing over which Property Brother was hotter.â
Charlie hit pause and Gilda answered, âJonathan.â
âDrew!â Dean and Charlie yelled, together.
Cas laughed, his voice a little watery. Dean grabbed his other hand.
âThere can be marriage without sex, you know? Ours felt real enough.â
Cas nodded, swallowing roughly. âI think so, too.â
Dean smiled at him, leaning in, before he jerked back. âWait, can I kiss you? Is that an okay thing?â
Cas grinned before leaning up just the tiniest bit to kiss him. It was a warm press of lips and dipping your toe in the bath water to see if itâs hot enough. It was a brush of noses and the smell of freshly mown grass. It was the rasp of stubble under hands and the feel of freshly laundered sheets.
It was nice and safe and home.
They were both smiling when they pulled away.
âSo,â Dean said, smoothing Casâs hair back just as he had that morning, âYou wanna get married, Cas?â
Cas grinned, pulling Dean by his neck for a quick kiss before pulling away. âDean. Donât fall in love with me.â
Little Red Riding Cas
Title: Little Red Riding Cas
Author: @sakuai1
Artist: @arakey
Warning: (Slight) Werewolf AU, High School, Castiel as Little Red Riding Hood, conspiracy, murders.
Word Count: 11k+
Summary:
Once upon a time, in a small country village lived a young country boy. He was the most handsome boy who was ever seen.
His mother and father were very fond of him, and his grandmother only doted on him more. The grandmother made the young man a little red riding hood. It suited him so extremely well that everyone called him Little Red Riding Hood.
Except...that's not really what happened.
 Link to  Fic / Art
Title of Fic: I, Spy: A Wedding
Authorâs username: dr-johnwatson
Artistâs username: sassydean
Warnings/Tags: sexual content, violence
Word Count: 9.5k
Summary: Dean learns that Sam is getting married to the love of his life. The problem? Deanâs technically listed as dead, has been working as a covert spy for a confidential agency, and most definitely cannot reveal that he is alive. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to see his brother at his happiest he and Castiel devise a cunning plan complete with disguises and spy gear to infiltrate the wedding.
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