Chapter Text
“Cas! I swear to god, this better not be a severed arm in the fridge!” Dean yelled, his words echoing through the house. All he wanted was a cold beer, was that so hard?
Apparently, it was, because when he had opened the refrigerator what he saw was a pale arm laid out on the top shelf, sitting there like that was the most natural, commonplace thing in the world.
“Oh shit,” Cas’ rumbly voice came from the top of the stairs and, within seconds, Dean saw his tousled head bouncing quickly down the steps. He practically sprinted through the house, until he suddenly skidded to a stop into front of a pissed off Dean. “I’m sorry, I love you, it won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t” Dean said as he grabbed the limb from the fridge and began to walk to the front door. “Because I’m going to go feed this to one of Sam’s weird ass dog things.”
“No, Dean, don’t!” Cas said as he followed after Dean, tugging on his shirt and eventually turning him around. “Please, I promise I’ll stop.”
Dammit, he had turned on the puppy eyes and they both knew that Dean couldn’t resist the puppy eyes. He tried to hold his ground, but he already felt his hard stance weakening and bending to Cas’ will. The other man’s eyes were drilling into him and, he swore those baby blues were staring into his soul and reading his thoughts. (Actually, with Cas’ lineage that might not be too far-fetched.)
Goddammit again, he was going to lose this battle, but if he was going down he was going to take the other man with him. He smirked and Cas crinkled his nose in confusion before suddenly, Dean reached out and grabbed Cas’ hip. With a tug, he pulled the man to his chest, feeling Cas’ gasp against his ribs. Their eyes met, and all he could think about was how the hell someone even got eyes so gorgeous and how the hell did a guy like him ever manage to make the person behind those eyes his.
A chuckle shook through Cas and he leaned into Dean. He brought up an arm, snaking it under Dean’s shirt and playing with his waistband. His deft fingers brushed against the small of Dean’s back, making shivers run up his spine. And oh God, he loved when he did that. Then, Cas started peppering kisses up Dean’s neck and along his jawline and Dean was done. He melted, becoming putty under Cas’ nimble, gentle hands, and feeling warmth spread throughout his body. Then he moved and began to suck at Cas’ collarbone, nipping and biting in the way he knew Cas loved. The man gasped and Dean felt fingers grasped at his hair wantonly. He turned his head, purposefully dragging his cheek along Cas’ jaw and drawing a breathless moan. He nibbled at Cas’ ear and said “Who’s the best husband in the world?”
He felt the chuckle rather than heard it and Cas pulled away with a small smirk dancing on his lips. “Probably Neil Patrick Harris, but thank god I got stuck with you.” Cas said as he placed a kiss on Dean’s lips. Dean choked back a laugh and said “thank god I got stuck with you” before diving back in and deepening the kiss. Cas moaned against him, his fingers fisted the back of his shirt. Warmth and pleasure rushed through him and spread out to every part of his body. He could feel everything and nothing and his entire world was built on this one person. This one glorious and amazing person who he trusted to be his everything. Oh god, when did he start becoming someone who got lost in moments?
Someone who got so lost that they almost completely missed the sneaky little fingers that were steadily prying the severed arm from his left hand.
That little shit.
He took a step back, and glared at Cas and his stupid face and his stupid blue eyes and his stupid kissable lips that were twisted up into another damn smirk. Manipulative bastard that he married. Why did he do these things to himself?
“I’m supposed to be mad at you.” He growled, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet. He tried to look as steadfast and manly as possible, even though he could hardly take his eyes off of Cas’ lips.
Cas just laughed and gave him a languid, toothy smile. He took a smooth step inwards with a predatory look in his eyes and suddenly Dean remembered that his husband was a cannibal. “And what are you going to do about it?” he said as he stalked forward, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. All at once, Dean felt less like a man and more like a stupidly impulsive mouse that had decided that it would be fun to smack a cat on the nose.
“I’m going to stand here and refuse to be swayed by your sexual charms.” Dean said, looking Cas straight in the eye. Stay strong, Dean Winchester, stay strong.
The other man paused in his advance and looked into Dean’s eyes with a frightening intensity that almost made him want to take a step back. They stood there for a few beats. Silence hung between them before Cas broke it with a hearty, full-body laugh. His predatory stance quickly washed away, and was replaced with affection.
He gave Dean a smile. Not the wicked wolf-like one from before, or even the smirks that he was so fond of. He gave Dean the smile that he had fallen for and, god, Dean loved his smile. He loved the way that his mouth moved to make the expression. He loved the way it made his eyes glitter. He loved the little crinkles that it formed and how perfect it made Cas look.
God, love was turning him into such a damn poet.
“Oh really?” Cas said with warmth filling his voice. “You think that you can resist me?”
“Yep” Dean said. He extended the word, popping his lips on the last letter.
“Then I must be losing my edge.”
Dean leaned in and gave Cas a gentle kiss. “Never, baby.”
He didn’t even know that Cas’ smile could get any wider, but it did and he replied with a kiss of his own. They stood there just kissing until he felt Cas trying to take the arm away from him again, but this time he let it go. Cas hummed against his lips and he took a step back, before giving another peck.
“Thank you, Dean” He said, then he turned and headed to the back of the house. As he walked away, the limp hand attached to the arm, bounced with each of his steps, almost like it was waving a gruesome goodbye. He went into the basement to his “kitchen” was and where he kept all the “meat” (Dean wasn’t even going to acknowledge how stereotypical it was). His husband’s lifestyle used to bother him a lot more, but now he was fine as long as random limbs didn’t end up touching his beer.
Should that worry him?
Dean took a beer from the fridge and then noticed a curiously marked jar in the back. Please no. Please, please, don’t be what he thinks it is. He stared at the jar for another moment before his curiosity betrayed him and he found himself reaching in. He jostled the jar and, sure enough, two human eyeballs rolled around and looked at him.
What even is his life.
*****
It took almost three hours until Cas emerged from the basement covered in blood. He had on a long white coat similar to what doctors wore and looked like some kind of crazed surgeon.
“Shoes Cas,” Dean said from the couch. He had previously been watching some mindless television and nursing a beer. Really, he should be trying to think of what he was going to do with his next book, but writer’s block was hitting him hard so he was avoiding it as much as possible. If only he could ignore the way Naomi sent him passive aggressive reminders about his upcoming deadlines.
Cas grumbled and leaned down to take off his shoes. He left them on the first step of the basement’s staircase and entered the room in clean white socks. He walked through the kitchen and immediately went into the laundry room to discard the spoiled coat. In a few minutes, he emerged in clean clothes and plopped on the couch next to Dean.
“What are we watching?” he asked, putting his feet up on the coffee table next to Dean’s.
“Silence of the Lambs” Dean said.
Cas crinkled his nose and glared at the television like it personally offended him. “You know I hate this movie.”
“I put it on just for you, babe.”
Cas huffed in response and leaned against him. Dean chuckled and went back to watching as the TV cops rolled out the bound cannibal. To be honest, he hated this movie too. He didn’t have a problem with it before he met Cas, but once he did he could never watch it the same way. For him, it stopped being Hannibal Lector who was muzzled and put into a straight-jacket and started to become his husband, which was absolutely terrible to think about. He moved and slung an arm over Cas’ shoulders, bringing him closer and away from the television.
Silence fell over the living room as both of the men watched. The people on the screen cowered away from the cannibal. Dean could see the fear in their eyes. The way that their breath hitched when Hannibal moved. The way that they knew he was a predator and that they tracked their eyes over his every move. But more than that he saw how trapped the cannibal was, stuck in a cage with no windows or hope. He knew that he shouldn’t let this movie get to him. He knew that Hannibal wasn’t Cas. That one is a psychopathic killer who was clearly insane and the other was his unendingly kind husband that cried when he watched The Dead Poets Society. That didn’t stop his mind from drawing up the similarities and imaging Cas taken away from the world and shoved into box for the rest of his life.
He would kill them if they ever tried. He would fight for Cas until his dying breath, he would murder for him in a heartbeat. He would tear their throats, watch as their heads rolled across the floor, as the blood trickled and drained.
He needed to stop thinking about this.
“Sam invited us over to dinner tonight.” He said to Cas without looking at him. He kept his eyes on the figures across the living room. Someone called the cannibal a monster and he involuntarily felt his grip on Cas tighten.
“Oh?” said Cas from under him, “when did you talk to him?”
“He called earlier today, said that my parents were coming in to town.” A policeman talked about Hannibal like he was an animal and Dean felt a shudder run through his body.
Cas gazed up at Dean, his eyes quickly calculated his expression, and sat up. He moved to take the remote from Dean and turned off the television. “Dean, if these things bother you so much why do you watch them?”
Dean sighed and also sat up. “I don’t know, Cas.” Cas looked at him expectantly, looking for a better answer, but Dean shook his head. “Can we not talk about this?”
Cas narrowed his eyes and looked like he was about to object before his expression softened. “Alright,” he said and he leaned back into Dean’s side. “You said something about your parents coming to town?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, “Apparently, they called Sam last night and told him that they would be swinging by, but you know how that turns out.”
Cas didn’t say anything for a while. “Do you think that they will come this time?” he said carefully.
Dean desperately wanted to say ‘yes’, but experience knew better. His parents always said that they would be there. Of course, they’d be there. That they would come home for Christmas or Sam’s birthday or even his goddamn wedding. But every time that they said that, every time that Dean said to himself ‘This is important. They’ll come this time.’ he was let down. He spent the nights asking what he did wrong and what about him was so bad that his parents didn’t even want to see him. Then he would get a phone call the next day and his parents would ask for forgiveness. Every time he said that this was the last time that he would forgive them.
“I don’t know, Cas. It’s been almost six years since I’ve seen them, I don’t know why they would show up now.”
Cas didn’t say anything in reply and both of them sat in the darkening room, lost in their own thoughts.
Dean shifted and got up from the couch. “Come on, we have to get ready to go to Sam’s. Oh, and he said that you’re welcome to bring your own meal if you need to.” He put out his hand to help Cas up. His husband shook his head as he let Dean pull him to his feet.
“No, I’m fine. I ate what I needed yesterday so I should be good until about Tuesday.” He said as he moved towards their bedroom.
Dean followed and within an hour both of them were ready and heading into the Impala. They folded into the car and Dean began the familiar journey to Sam’s house. As the time passed the city thinned out and began to get more rural. It was kind of a pain because Sam’s house was practically in the middle of nowhere, but Dean knew that that was kinda of necessary for their “lifestyle”.
Beside him Cas was sitting comfortably in the familiar seat and staring out the window. He looked like a movie star like that, as if he had been plucked out of an intelligent indie film and been dropped into Dean’s life. What was going on in that beautiful mind of his? What kind of thoughts were in there? Knowing Cas, it was probably something deep and meaningful.
“What are you thinking about?” he couldn’t resist asking.
Cas hummed, turning towards Dean. He had that sage-like look in his eye, the gleam that he got when he was trying to figure out one of the mysteries of the universe. “I was wondering what your ass would taste like.” He said with grave seriousness.
Dean didn’t say anything for a second, and then suddenly he erupted into full-bodied laughter that almost made him swerve the car off the road. “You dick! And here I thought you were being all mysterious and philosophical.”
The other man shook his head in disagreement. “Dean, I think that this is a very important question to be answered.” He said in a deadpan voice.
Dean looked at him from the corner of his eye, trying to judge his blank face. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?” Shadows played across his face casting one half into the dark and the other into the light. It looked eerily symbolic like the universe trying to tell him something through visual cues, but hell if Dean knew what fate was trying to tell him.
Cas looked at him like he was surprised that that was even a question. “Of course, Dean.”
“Dude, what did we say about imagining how our husband’s body would taste?” Dean said firmly.
With a huff, Cas crossed his arms and mumbled something.
“I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t hear that.”
“That we weren’t allowed to imagine how our husband’s body would taste.” He said petulantly, “And just so you know, I think that this rule is unfairly one-sided.”
Dean laughed and looked back at the road. His brother’s house was coming into view. “Sorry, but those are the rules.”
“Where is this aforementioned rulebook, Dean? I find it hard to believe that there’s a cannibalism clause in it.”
Dean didn’t say anything until finally he couldn’t resist his curiosity (even though he knew he was going to regret it). “So how do you think that my ass would taste?”
His husband looked at him carefully like he was assessing if this was a trap. Slowly he said, “I think it would taste absolutely divine. It probably has a great balance of muscle and fat. The marbling would be fantastic.”
Dean didn’t reply and pulled into Sam’s driveway. He parked the car, still thinking about what Cas said, and got out. The other man also got out and they started walking to the front door.
Right as Cas knocked, Dean said, “Was that just an unnecessarily creepy way to call me a fat ass?”
Cas practically chocked on the sudden chuckle that burbled out of his throat and was still bent over laughing as Sam opened the door.
“Hey guys, what’s…” he trailed off as he watched Cas try to catch his breath again from his laughing fit. He looked at Dean with a question evident in his eyes and a raised eyebrow.
“You take him. He’s being a creeper and calling me fat while he talking about how ‘absolutely divine’ my ass would taste.” Dean said as he pushed past his brother into the house. He could feel Sam staring at his back in confusion, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give an explanation, plus it was so much more entertaining to just leave Sammy hanging. So
Meanwhile, Cas had seemed to collect himself and straighten up. “It’s funny Dean,” he said with teasing in his voice, “You don’t seem to complain when I taste your ass in the bedroom.”
Dean froze and whipped around. “No. You do not get to make sex creepy.” He pointed his finger at Cas to emphasize the command. His husband just laughed and walked into the house, while greeting Sam.
Poor Sam looked terribly confused (not to mention slightly mortified) about what just happened, but quickly shook it off and greeted his brother and Cas with a hug. “I will never understand you guys’ relationship.” He said warmly before leading them both into the kitchen.
“So how have you been?” he asked as he opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. He quickly popped off the caps using a bottle opener and handed them to Dean and Cas.
“Things have been pretty good. I’ve been having a hell of a struggle with writer’s block, though, and I swear, Naomi will murder me if I don’t get a first draft to her in the next month. As Dean spoke, Cas moved behind him to take a seat at the bar and Sam leaned back against one of the counters. Dean plopped himself on top of the kitchen island. “But how about you, Victor Frankenstein, what have you been cooking up in your lab?”
Sam snorted and when he looked back at Dean, he had a glimmering excited sheen in his eye. “Oh you, gotta see Bella, Dean. She’s wonderful. I just made her three days ago and she’s already up and walking. You’ll love it.” He said, his voice filled with affection and a childhood wonder that he never grew out of.
Dean laugh and took another swig of beer. “I’m sure I will, Sam, but first tell me what exactly Bella is.”
Sam grinned even wider and tugged at his brother’s hand to pull him off the island. “Come on Dean, let me show you.” He said. Dean set his beer down, and let his little brother shepherd him back into the part of the house that Sam called “his lab”. He heard Cas follow them and looked back to see that his husband was smiling softly at Sam and him. The scene was a familiar one. Sam had been dragging Dean to come see his little experiments for as long as he could remember, and, when Cas came into the picture, began taking him too. Sammy had always been putting things together, mismatching strange and unlikely animals, and discovering the secret to life at five, even though it still baffled the scientific community.
What could he say? His little brother was a genius, despite his way-to-long hair and the perpetual puppy-like mannerism he had seemed to pick up. Now, though, he spends most of his days cooking up creatures in his lab and selling them to people within the supernatural community. His creations would go on to do all sorts of things and help all sorts of people, and Dean couldn’t be any prouder of him.
It grew warmer as they stepped into the lab, the air popping with electricity and chemical warmth. The sound of bubbling, and the constant hiss of machines filled the air, until suddenly it was punctuated by the sound of flapping wings. Dean waited and then he felt a familiar weight drop on his shoulder and the press of talons against his skin.
“Hey Fawkes.” He said lifting his hand to pet the bird that was wildly nuzzling against his cheek. The creature gave him a warbling chirp-twill and started to preen through his hair.
Fawkes was one of Sam’s first creations and (though he would never tell Sam this) Dean’s favourite. Fawkes had always taken a liking to Dean and, like Sam, he was one of the more constant things in his hectic, messed up life. He looked like a cross between a hawk, a peacock and an owl cloaked in shimmering iridescent blue, gold and black feathers. Sam had made him when he was 12 years old and had gotten himself really into Harry Potter, which is why he was named Fawkes even though the colours were all wrong. The colours also didn’t stop Sam from naming the species a House Phoenix and, now they were one of Sam’s best seller, prized by supernatural creature keepers across America.
“I see your friend found you.” Sam said, smiling as he watched the bird mother-hen Dean’s hair.
Dean couldn’t help grinning, too. “He always does.”
“I don’t see why you don’t just take him with you. He’s always liked you better than me. He’d be happier with you and now that you two have finally gotten settled.” He said, strongly implying what exactly he thought Dean should do.
“I don’t know,” Dean said hesitantly. “Would he be happy being in our house all the time? I don’t want him to sit in a cage for the rest of his life.”
Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry, Dean, Fawkes is happy to be wherever people are. He doesn’t need to much space, I mean, even now he spends almost all his time in the lab or the house because that’s where Jess and I always are. Anyways, I’m sure that Jess can cook you up a nice glamour spell that will make him look like a big parrot to anyone else. We’ll make it work.”
Dean was still unsure and looked back at Cas. Cas was still smiling and nodded at Dean, silently giving his permission.
“I’ll think about Sam, but you know I’d love to have him.” He said, not quite ready to commit yet.
Sam nodded in response and turned to go deeper into the lab. He would have looked absolutely evil if he wasn’t calling out the name Bella and making high pitched baby sounds to attract his little creation to him. Within seconds, there was a weird barking noise and a scrabbling of claws against the concrete floor. A creature popped out from the corner of Sam’s lab and immediately zipped over to Sam in a blur of black (fur?) and bio luminesce. The air filled with the smell of ozone like what the world smelled like right before a thunderstorm.
The thing looked like a cross between a hound and a komodo dragon, like something straight out of James Cameron’s Avatar, the movie with the blue people in it. Now as he looked closer at it he could see that the creature had a very short coat of fur that pitch black, except for the patches of bioluminescence that flowed down its spine. The creature also had a wicked set of double rowed teeth and a black tongue that was hanging out of its mouth. The strangest thing about the animal, though, was that it had no eyes.
“Guys, this is Bella” Sam said with the voice of a proud parent as he sat on the ground with the animal. When the creature heard her name, she excitedly began to slobber all over Sam’s face, even as he tried to push her off with wildly failing limbs. It was easy to see that the creature was absolutely vicious.
“What exactly is Bella?” asked Dean. When he spoke, the dog-thing lifted her floppy ears and bounced over to him to excitedly begin sniffing his shoe.
“I’m thinking about calling them Electric Dogs. They naturally produce an excess of electricity, which is why she lights up.” Sam answered, still on the ground. Bella had moved on to sniffing her way up Cas’ pants.
“So basically, you made a living nightlight.”
“And a generator.” Sam interjected. “I developed a special collar that can harness the electricity and be plugged into appliances.”
Dean nodded and looked back at the weird glowing dog thing. “So are you keeping her or…” Dean didn’t finish but Sam knew what he has asking.
“No, I made her for a supernatural conservationist. He goes around the country with his wife educating people about why some wild supernatural creatures should be preserved and protecting their habitats. They wanted a companion who would be able to stick with them during all their fieldwork and be useful when they have to campout. They are a wonderful couple, doing great work, Bella will fit in perfectly.”
Sam smiled at Dean and Dean couldn’t help the immense amount of pride he felt towards his little brother. How did Sam turn out so good? How did Sam, who was raised by a shitty, (absolutely terrified) big brother barely older than himself, turn out so right?
Dean was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to tell Sam just how good he was, how proud he was, how much he loved him. But all he said was.
“Yeah, she will be happy. You did good Sam.”