mushroom omlette

bouncing-s0ul  asked:

I'm not sure if you're still taking prompts, but if you are is there any way you could write a lil mute!Cas saving/standing up for Dean? Could be AU, SU, whatever you want, just looking for mute!Cas to save the day. Thanks and go you!!

(deviated hella from the prompt, i’m sorry)

 Castiel doesn’t talk.Dean’s not sure why he doesn’t talk. But he doesn’t. When he writes notes or signs roughly spells things out on the phone or the computer, he doesn’t explain why he doesn’t talk. 

He doesn’t bring it up, and Dean doesn’t ask. He figures if Castiel wants him to know, he’ll tell him. Because Dean’s…Dean’s not talked before. And talking about why someone’s not talking…doesn’t make them talk any sooner. So he accepts it as a new reality and lets Castiel not talk as much as he wants to. And not talking isn’t not communicating or not being close. Because Castiel is close to him.

 Sam’s out in California, not exactly picking back up with Stanford but working in libraries and taking night classes and Dean’s out here in the bunker and Cas is with him, and he’s…it’s so comfortable. 

Castiel doesn’t cook but he does clean and shower and read. He circles what’s going on around the state in the newspaper and passes it to Dean. He sweeps the floors and washes the windows and dusts the books and books and books. And Castiel shakes his head at Dean’s jokes and sways a little to music.

And Dean thinks about him. About what kind of food he might like (near as Dean can tell he only likes eggs as a mushroom omlette with goat cheese and tarragon, but if you put tarragon on pretty much anything, Castiel will eat it) or what kind of beer he might like (none; Cas likes gin) or the kind of music he might enjoy (the Zeppelin is lost on him but the few times Dean has put The Velvet Underground he’s hummed along). And the smell of him, on his clothes and on his sheets and in the shower. The way his hair is always messed up. The way he falls asleep near the open windows the way he pauses when he hears birdsong and or the soft meow of a nearby cat. 

Dean thinks about Castiel a lot, and how full his silence makes his life. Castiel likes to go grocery shopping- in his words, It satisfies an instinct to care for things in me. So they climb into the Impala and they drive into town, down the long roads, Lou Reed filling the sound of the silence inside the car. Dean’s comfortable being a part of Castiel’s silence.

“Lou Reed,” he says, softly. “Guy was a real weirdo. I mean, a son of a bitch but uh…I mean, no one survives a heroin addiction and doesn’t come out different. Pretty music though. I mean, except for the stuff that’s ugly.”

Dean glances over at him. He’s got a little smirk over his face. 

“Oh, shut up,” Dean sighs.

Castiel’s face crinkles as his grin becomes more intense.

Dean knows a little sign language, and Cas knows a little more than him. And there’s something more fluid to the way he signs than the way he writes- he doesn’t have enough of the grammar together to speak in that way he does. It’s a different kind of language to him- the shape of it is different when he forms it in his hands than when he forms it on the page. But it’s…its still Cas.

Right now he signs, Easy.

And Dean knows it’s him making a joke about him, how he’s too easy to tease. To make fun of. And he’s so okay with it. God, he loves him.

Dean has the thought, and then he feels his foot turn to lead over the gas. He eases off of it as suddenly as it happens. Because it happens and it’s surreal.

Fuck.

He loves…he loves Cas. He loves him. God almighty son of a bitch- fuck. Fuck

He clears his throat. Turns the radio up a little. Tries not to think about it.

And Castiel stares out the window and thinks those private thoughts of his.God.

Fuck.

Dean loves him.

He- he loves him.