outfield jumps

Like Peppermint On Your Soul [Marry Me #2]

Marry Me #1 can be found here.

This one is also a prompt from @ltleflrt. If any of the rest of you have “marry me” ideas, send them along! I’ll write for SPN or Mass Effect or whatever.

PAIRING: Dean Winchester/Castiel
SUMMARY: Dean’s family has a tradition of getting engaged at baseball games. The problem is that Castiel really hates baseball.

There’s a slightly embarrassing tradition in the Winchester household that spans back a few generations, through all the branches of the family. And it begins and ends with baseball. The Winchester line is just this side of obsessed with the summer sport. Doesn’t matter where they scatter to the four winds, what jobs they have, who their friends are, who they choose to start families with. It doesn’t even matter whether the Winchester or the spouse-to-be proposes; it always begins with the jumbo-tron kiss cam. Every last one of them, down to So-And-So-Five-Times-Removed, has been engaged at a baseball park. It’s even completely accidental sometimes. Sam Winchester hadn’t mentioned the tradition, but his wife had pulled out the ring and asked the age-old question during the seventh inning stretch. They jumbo-tron only caught the last second of Sam snot crying and saying yes, though. The cameras had originally been focused on the mascots running the bases with any children aged 10 and under. Incidentally, Bobby swears that Cubs won the World Series because of it. Didn’t matter. Dean had been able to turn his weepy brother’s acceptance into a Vine, and that’s all that matters, really.

The bottom line is that Winchesters have tied their lives together with almost every team from the Atlanta Braves to the San Francisco Giants and all the stadiums in between. It’s pretty awesome.

And Dean Winchester, probably next in line, thinks he’ll break the tradition. Mostly because his lover, life, lighter of his loins, Castiel Novak, really fucking hates baseball. He hates everything about it. He hates the food, he hates the ritualistic cheers, he hates getting sweaty and sunburned and chapping his ass on the plastic seats. He fell asleep when the Braves were in the playoffs. Seriously, who does that?

At any rate, Dean feels sorry for Cas now that Benny’s moved away and can’t use the other season ticket. It’s a true test of love that Castiel will even visit the stadium, even if he does stay glued to his cell phone, doing other things, the entire time. Though, Dean’s pretty sure that Cas’s limit of devotion would have been reached if they hadn’t had such good seats this year; shaded and under a fan, so it’s not so blazingly hot.

He also accepts the large, cold beer that Dean buys out of pity for him while playing on his phone. The more games they go to, though, the more Castiel pays attention. He won’t ever be a full convert into the baseball religion, but he does sometimes watch when the Braves are up to bat. It’s been a slow transition, but it’s happened. Besides, Dean swore that he’d take someone else to the last two games of the regular season. Castiel still looks relieved about that as they settle in for what’s shaping up to be a great afternoon for Dean and a lot of Pokemon hunting for Castiel.

Castiel isn’t paying a single lick of attention to the game today. Occasionally, he even yawns. He’s had a long week that he still doesn’t want to talk about. Stressed beyond belief so much so that he’s been extra snappy and even zoned out so far while brushing his teeth the night before that he’d jumped a mile and nearly choked on his toothbrush when Dean had called his name.

Dean props his feet up on the vacant seat in front of him and drapes his arm over Castiel’s shoulders. “You okay? You really could have stayed home.”

Castiel shrugs, blinking down at his phone. “It’s a waste of a ticket. I don’t mind being here. It’s not like this requires activity on our part.” He pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.

Dean smiles. “You sure? What’s up with you this week?”

“It’s nothing,” Castiel assures him, actually looking up now. “I’m sorry about this week. I know I haven’t been myself.”

“Trouble at work?”

Castiel leans into Dean’s side even though it’s a scorcher today and his shirt is already starting to stick to his back. “Not really.”

Dean kisses the top of his head and winks with a smirk. “Trouble at home?”

Castiel glares at him with a deadpan frown that in Dean’s lexicon of Castiel translates to sass. “Sometimes. I live with an assbutt.”

Laughing loudly, Dean says, “I love it when you swear. It’s adorable. Almost like you’re a human.”

“I’m the best you’ve ever had, Winchester.”

“And don’t I know it.”

The rest of their bickering is cut off when the Braves make a spectacular outfield play and Dean jumps to his feet with a roar, sloshing his beer. He doesn’t notice - never notices - Castiel staring up at him fondly. Even the Baseball Grinch realizes that Dean Winchester is rarely as happy anywhere as he is at Turner Field, spilling his beer and making up new swear words to shout at the refs.

Play after play until the seventh inning stretch. The crowds are a lot larger than anticipated, though Castiel should have expected that since it’s the end of the season. He’s still nervous, though.

Dean comes back with a loaded paper plate of nachos destined to be a heart attack, and fresh beers. He sits down and rests the plate on his knees, placing the beers in the cup holders on the arm of the chairs. Castiel moves his to the other side, away from Dean.

It’s not the best time, but it’s probably the only time he’s going to get without waiting a whole other year to do it. He can’t wait for another year. It’d too close to torture.

So, while Dean stuffs his face in ecstasy with the greasy food, Castiel reaches into the bottom pocket of his cargo shorts and pulls out a black velvet box. “Dean,” he says.

Dean turns his head. His mouth is covered in chili and fake cheese, and he only bothers to wipe off his hands with a stack of paper napkins.

Castiel takes it back. This is the perfect time. He holds up the box. Opens it to show the contents. Castiel’s future husband, is engraved on the top of a platinum bracelet. He says nothing.

“Holy shit,” Dean says. The nachos almost slide off of his legs. “You asking me to marry you? Here? In the place you hate most in the world?”

Castiel carefully takes off his sunglasses and hooks them on his t-shirt collar. “I hate my cubicle more than baseball stadiums. And this is the place that you love most in the world. So, yes. Here. Now. Would you like to marry me, Dean?”

Dean takes the bracelet out of the box and slips it over his wrist. “Sure I would.”

Castiel kisses him on the lips, and it tastes like awful nacho cheese and chili. He hates the taste, but he loves the way that Dean laughs into the embrace, holding him closer as cheering erupts around them. Castiel glances up just in time to see them on the kiss cam. He grins, waves, dives back into Dean and actually enjoys the rest of the game. Maybe he’ll convert eventually for real. Maybe he’ll make a new tradition of being married on home plate. Sky’s the limit in such a place of worship.