Chapter Text
Castiel squinted up at the morning sun with immediate regret. Shielding his eyes, he blinked away black spots and surveyed the backyard. All in all, it didn’t look too bad. The party rental company had arrived at 7 a.m.; Cas had dragged himself out of bed and gotten dressed to let them inside the gate. Dean was dead to the world while Cas oversaw the workers folding up the tables and chairs and loading up the propane tanks. Castiel lent a hand breaking down the tents and waved them off with a generous tip and a promise to write an excellent review on Yelp.
Now Castiel stood with his morning coffee, looking at the remaining debris. It was mostly just streamers and empty bottles of beer and wine. He and Dean had stripped the rented canopies of the fairy lights the night before, and moved all of the leftover alcohol into the fridge in the garage.
Castiel shivered in his thick sweater, wishing he had grabbed his trenchcoat. He hung a trash bag over the post of the deck stairs and began his clean-up. It was nearly 8:30 and Dean would be awake soon; his husband’s stomach rarely let him sleep past nine, despite the late hour they’d gone to bed. There was so much leftover food in their kitchen, and Castiel hoped Dean would think to heat some of the mini quiches hiding in the refrigerator for breakfast.
A light blinked on in the upstairs window, and Castiel looked up, noting that Dean must be in the bathroom. The creak of the window sounded, and soon his husband’s bed-tousled head peeked out, breath making puffs of steam in the air.
“You shoulda woken me up, sweetheart,” Dean said in his sleep-raspy voice and Castiel smiled.
“But you looked so peaceful drooling on your pillow and snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” Dean said indignantly. “I just dream in car engine.”
Castiel laughed. “More like stuttering lawnmower,” he teased and Dean rolled his eyes.
“ It’s fucking cold. I’m going to take a quick shower, then I’ll be out to help you,” Dean said and Castiel grinned up at him.
“You can help by making breakfast. I got this covered. Our friends and family were a lot less slovenly than I thought they’d be.”
Dean laughed, closing the window, and Castiel returned to his sweep of the yard, dropping two more empty bottles of Thighslapper in the recycling barrel. When Castiel straightened, his whole body stilled.
There, at the garden gate, stood a man. Castiel glanced up at the bathroom window, hoping Dean was already in the shower. He strode forward across the yard, meeting the man halfway.
He was attractive. A little less worn than Castiel would have thought for years in prison, with salt and pepper hair and scruff on his chin and jaw. He held out a hand, and Castiel could only stare at it.
“Hey, son, you think you can help me? ” the man began, in a gruff, beseeching tone, “I’m looking for someone. My name is—.”
“I know who you are,” Castiel said, colder than the icy December air, and before the man could say anything else, Castiel’s fist shot out, clocking him right in the nose.
“Son of a bitch,” John Winchester yelled, clutching at his face, even as Castiel reared back, ready to let his fist fly again.
“ Cas ! Hey! Cas, Castiel !” There was the sound of a door slamming shut, and feet pounding down the steps.
Castiel struggled when he felt Dean’s arm wrap around him from behind, dragging him backward.
“Jesus Christ, son, that’s a helluva way to greet someone,” John griped, voice muffled behind his large hands. Castiel only growled and lunged forward. Dean’s arm pulled him back again. “Don’t,” Dean said firmly, pointing a finger at John before turning his attention towards Castiel.
“Cas,” Dean said, turning Castiel towards him. He was still in his pajamas, bare feet stuffed into untied winter boots. “ Calm down,” Dean said, rubbing Castiel’s arms through his sweater.
“What the hell are you even doing here?” Cas said over Dean’s shoulder, ignoring Dean’s attempts to soothe.
“I just came to talk to my son,” John said, holding his hands up and Castiel glared, so angry he imagined if he were a cartoon, laser beams of light would be beaming from his eyes until John was nothing but a pile of smoke and ash.
“Dean owes you nothing,” Castiel spat out, viciously, as every memory of his Dean being heartbroken over his father surfaced and filled him with rage. “So you can take your A plus plus parenting regrets and get the fuck out of our yard.”
Unbelievably, next to him, Dean chuckled. He took Castiel’s hands and brought them to his lips, kissing his aching knuckles. “I love you,” Dean said, leaning forward to kiss his furrowed brow. “So very much. And I’m okay. I got this. Go on inside.”
Everything in Castiel wanted to protest, he even opened his mouth to do so, but the look on Dean’s face made him pause. He didn’t seem upset. In fact, Dean looked completely calm, as he nodded at Castiel reassuringly. Tension began to release its strangled coils from his insides and he gave Dean one more questioning glance, needing to be sure.
Their gazes locked and held, one beat, two beats, three beats, then—
“Go on, Sugar Ray, ice these babies, and I’ll be in soon,” Dean said, releasing Castiel’s stiff fingers.
With a final withering glare at John, Castiel walked back toward the house, leaving his husband and his father, staring each other down in the backyard.
Walking into the welcoming heat of the kitchen, Castiel jumped, letting out a small yelp of surprise. Gabriel stood by the sink, a bag of frozen peas in his hand.
“Nice punch, broseph,” Gabriel said and Castiel rolled his eyes, shoulders slumping as he had all but forgotten that he and Dean had a house guest. Gabriel had passed out in the guest room somewhere between the Kaluah cocoa bombs and the karaoke competition. Castiel took the peas with a mumbled thanks and allowed himself to be pushed into a seat at the table. A cup of coffee was set in front of him and Castiel smiled weakly at his brother.
“Guy has a lot of nerve showing up here,” Gabriel said, taking a seat across from Cas.
“I should be out there,” Castiel glanced at the door, wishing he had x-ray vision. “I should be there for him.”
Gabriel snorted. “Cas, you alpha’d out and attacked the guy, pretty sure Deano knows you’re there for him.”
Castiel hissed as he flexed his fingers, adjusting the slowly defrosting vegetables.
“Dean can handle himself, Cas you know that," Gabriel continued. " And if he needs you, you’ll be there for him.”
Castiel sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. “I worry he’ll push me away like he did when we found out about Adam,” Castiel admitted.
“And how you did when we lost our grandparents,” Gabriel countered. “You got through that, and you’ll get through this, whatever the outcome.”
Castiel smiled. “You know, sometimes, you’re not an asshole.”
“I have my good days. Now chill. I heated up the leftover quiche. Wanna eat?”
Castiel nodded, happy to have something to do while he waited for Dean to come back inside.