#domestiel

this is what immediately came to my head lmao

Breakfast Time

7th Prompt for SPNSummer by @winchester-reload

Based on a true (and often recurring) event (I should just smack him with the pan one day).

Other art for SPNSummer: How Hawaiian

Dean carded his fingers absentmindedly through Castiel’s hair.

“You know,” he murmured, “normal couples probably don’t spend date night researching fake FBI badges and eating cold takeout.”

Castiel hummed against his chest. “That is because normal couples are cowards.”

Dean barked out a laugh, the sound vibrating under Castiel’s cheek. “Wow. Okay. Hostile.”

“I’m merely observant.”

“Sure you are.”

The movie exploded into a loud car chase scene. Dean reached over to lower the volume before settling back again, his arm immediately returning around Castiel’s shoulders like it belonged there.

Which it did.

Cas traced lazy shapes over Dean’s stomach with two fingers. “Sam bought oat milk again.”

Dean groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind me. Man looked me dead in the eyes this morning and said it was ‘creamier.’”

“You were offended for several hours.”

“I’m still offended.”

Castiel tilted his head just enough to look up at him. “You are very sensitive.”

Dean narrowed his eyes fondly. “You say that while cuddling me like a teddy bear.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Cas.”

“I am simply existing near you.”

Dean snorted and squeezed his hip. “Uh huh.”

Castiel let his head settle back onto Dean’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear while Dean’s fingers continued combing slowly through his hair. The room felt warm. Safe. Dean smelled like soap and sleep and the lingering traces of coffee.

The realization crept over him quietly.

He had become accustomed to this.

Not simply sharing space with Dean, not the occasional touches or kisses stolen in motel kitchens or against the Impala after hunts. This. The softness of it. The ease.

The domesticity.

Dean adjusting the blanket over both of them without even looking away from the movie.

Dean rubbing slow circles into his back because he knew Castiel liked it.

Dean letting him steal all the warmth without complaint.

Castiel frowned faintly.

Dean noticed immediately, because of course he did. “What’s going on in that giant angel brain?”

Castiel was quiet for a moment.

Then, softly, “I think I’ve become very comfortable with you.”

Dean’s expression melted into something unbearably tender.

“Well,” he said lightly, “yeah, sweetheart. That’s usually what happens when you’ve been dating somebody for years.”

Castiel ignored the teasing. “No, I mean…” He glanced down at where his hand rested over Dean’s heart. “This feels natural to me now. I did not expect that.”

Dean’s face softened further somehow.

“C’mere,” he murmured.

Castiel was already as close as physically possible, but Dean still tugged him higher against his chest until Cas was half sprawled over him. Dean pressed a kiss into his hairline.

“You know what’s natural to me now?” Dean said quietly.

“What?”

“You being here.”

Castiel looked up at him.

Dean smiled, sleepy and crooked and entirely fond. “Also you stealing all the blankets. Which is impressive considering you literally run colder than humanly possible.”

“I cannot regulate my temperature properly in this vessel.”

“Yeah, yeah. Excuses.”

Castiel leaned up just enough to kiss him, slow and familiar.

Dean kissed him back with a soft hum, one hand sliding up along his spine.

When they pulled apart, Dean rested his forehead against his for a second before mumbling, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I was under the impression you found me devastatingly handsome.”

Dean grinned. “See? Comfortable. Couple years ago you would’ve stared at me like a confused tax accountant if I flirted with you.”

“That still occurs occasionally.”

Some dude doods featuring long haired Dean my beloved

Dean isn't much of a hiking person. For his defense, he got his fair share of hiking from hunting, thank you very much, so he's not particularly interested in the kind of hiking that doesn't require looking behind his back for wendigos or werewolves.

Which totally explains his grunting and grumbling on his way up the trails.

"Are you having trouble climbing this hill?" Cas looks back at him from about five steps ahead. But those five steps are already enough to put him behind a curve of the trail and half hidden by an overgrown bush.

Dean takes large steps clambering over some slightly steep boulders, making sure he's still in sight. "What? No!" He's slightly offended for some reason. "Don't you dare say it's last night's burger's fault or something."

Cas rolls his eyes. "I wasn't going to. But is it?"

"Absolutely not!" Dean glares at him. "My burger didn't do anything wrong." But then he has to pause to catch his breath before stepping up the next steep step. He hates to admit it, but he thinks his knees just crackled. Is it really the retirement age for him now, he wonders. "Whatever, just not my type of thing, I guess."

"I can carry you if you need," Cas offers, genuinely kindly.

Dean's heart flutters slightly, imagining himself on Cas's shoulder, and Cas can just move up the mountain like he's no weight, not breaking a sweat. He tries not to be too obvious, but his eyes are definitely checking out those muscles on Cas's arms and shoulders. Yeah, definitely strong enough to carry him, with or without his grace.

"I'm not a baby or a princess," Dean protests. And his brain very unhelpfully lets him know that's not exactly a no. He swallows.

"You don't need to be a female royalty or a child to be carried," Cas states simply.

Dean stifles a laugh but makes the pretense of rolling his eyes just for the sake of it, "Can we just go? I don't want to be in this wild nowhere when it's getting dark. You never know what's in those woods."

"This is a very safe area, Dean. I have checked beforehand. Many hikers have been here every day," Cas reassures him, but he does turn back around and starts moving up the hill again. They can see the trail sign not far ahead.

"There might be snakes, or spiders," Dean grumbles, keeping up the pace so Cas is only two steps ahead of him. The thought that if he falls, he bets Cas can be fast enough to reach back and keep a hold of him comforts him greatly, like what every action-rom-com movie must have, with the hero holding out a hand over the edge of a cliff to save the love of his life or some shit. It's oddly romantic and thrilling in his imagination. Not that he'd ever admit it aloud -- neither the imagination nor the fact that he even watched that shit.

"Do you know they're more scared of humans than the other way around?" Cas glances behind him, reaching out a hand to help him move up a particularly tall boulder, and Dean takes it. Cas doesn't take his hand back after that, so Dean doesn't let go either.

"Sure," Dean answers half-heartedly, too busy making sure he doesn't step on anything slippery.

"I didn't know that you are afraid of snakes or spiders," Cas says next.

"I wouldn't call it 'afraid'," Dean protests, "they just give me creeps, you know? The way they look, I don't like things that don't have legs or things that have too many of them. Just two -- or four -- are good enough."

"Oh." Cas blinks, falling quiet.

Dean frowns, glancing at his face. He kicks himself in his mind. "Wait, no, I didn't mean..." he swallows, "how many do you have? I mean, in your true form?"

Cas's eyebrows knit together slightly. "There is no good way to map the physicality of celestial wavelength to creatural biology, but I don't have any legs in common sense, only six wings. So that is... six limbs."

"Wings are fine." Dean grins at him. "Wings are cool. And... and whatever you look like, I like it. A lot. Because... that's you. You know that, right?" His smile turns a little bashful. He still can't quite get used to saying saps like that, but he knows how bright Cas would turn into when he does, so he can't really resist.

Unsurprisingly, Cas's eyes brighten up, with almost real light glinting in them. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, one hundred percent goddamn sure." Dean smiles wider, reassuring him. "Whatever you look, it'd be beautiful, and perfect. 'Cause, you know, you are." He uses his available hand -- the one that Cas isn't currently holding -- to rub his cheek. It's hot there -- must be sunburn, instead of, you know.

"Even if I look like a snake or a spider?" Cas raises his eyebrows.

The muscle on Dean's face twitches. That bastard. How can he find a loophole so quickly? He closes his eyes, lets out an amused huff, then opens them again, looking into Cas's eyes. "Yes, Cas, even if you look like a snake or a spider. I'd highly prefer not, but if you are, then yes, I'll still like it, no question asked, 'cause it's you."

The tips of Cas's lips curl up. "Thank you," he says simply, as if Dean just did him some favor of some sort. He holds his hand tighter.

Dean beams at himself, pleased. He wonders about Cas's true form without legs and with six wings, what he really looks like, the rest of their way up to the mountaintop.

The view is astonishing from the top. The small towns and cities are scattered around at the foot of the mountain. Human civilization just looks so insignificant and distant from here. Dean takes a deep breath, feeling the fresh -- though a little thin -- mountain air filling his lungs. He feels close to the sky.

"We should do something you enjoy next time," Cas comments. Dean opens his eyes -- not realizing when he closed them when he immerses himself in nature -- finding Cas observing him closely.

"I am," Dean tells him.

"You were complaining all the way up here." Cas points out the obvious fact. "You don't like hiking. You only come because I wanted to, and you are indulging me, for which I am very grateful."

Dean edges closer to him, standing in his personal space. His hands move up from Cas's hand to his arms, reaching his shoulders, then cradling his cheeks. "And what's wrong with me enjoying every moment of spending time with my boyfriend-husband-wife-bestfriend?" They never really talked about it, just that they moved in together however long ago; they've been living together ever since; Dean cooks breakfast for both of them everyday, and Cas would brew the coffee and make sure it's served just the way Dean likes; and Cas would take out the trash and wash the dishes if Dean cooked the dinner; they watch movie on the same couch, sometimes with fingers braided, other times wrestling for the popcorns from the same bowl; and they lie down on the same bed, saying goodnight in each other's hold. Dean figures they don't really need a name or definition for whatever this is between them, but that's not to say he's not pondering or ruminating on the ideas of how to title Cas, and somehow, this is the moment those ideas and thoughts slip out.

"Shit," he murmurs when he catches what he just said, looking intensely at Cas's face, waiting for... something, anything -- whatever that is -- to happen, to change.

There is a faint bloom of blusher-pink creeping its way over Cas's cheeks. He blinks a few times, before answering bluntly, "May I kiss you?"

Dean chuckles, all worries thrown into the wind. He doesn't bother to answer that, just leaning in to press his lips onto his boyfriend-husband-wife-bestfriend's.

"And, we are going to the beach next time," Dean whispers by Cas's ear in between the busy business his lips got themselves into.