Sam is about to take a sip of his
coffee when Castiel suddenly appears in the kitchen, walks straight
toward Dean at the table and
drops a jacket onto his lap.
Dean flinches instantly. “What the
“You need to wear this,” the
former angel orders with a determined
expression, obviously not impressed by Dean’s bewildered face.
“Uh … what?”
Sam takes a closer look and notices
that it’s the jacket Dean bought for himself a few months ago with a
big smile on his lips, calling it ‘fucking perfect’. From then
on he wore that thing every other day.
Until a couple of weeks ago when
Dean and Castiel finally got their shit together over a bowl of
popcorn during a movie marathon, with Sam right next to them,
apparently totally forgotten. They exchanged kisses and love
confessions (well, at least Castiel did – Dean just stammered
awkwardly and blushed a lot) and Sam fled the scene hastily.
After that it was suddenly Castiel
who wore the jacket all the freaking time and Dean tried his best –
and failed spectacularly – to hide his pleased face. Castiel even
left his beloved trench coat behind for this (although he compensated
this by wearing it in the bunker instead, sometimes even during
mundane tasks like cooking or cleaning).
And until this morning that didn’t
“You’re … you’re giving it back
to me?” Dean asks, confused.
“Yes, I do,” Castiel states,
glaring at the garment on Dean’s lap as if it personally offended
“Oh.” Dean still seems puzzled
about this, but there is some nervousness in his gaze as well. He
lowers his head and asks tentatively, “Did … did I do something
Castiel tilts his head. “No, of
course not. Why would you say that?”
Dean frowns. “Why are you giving
it back then?”
“You’re supposed to wear it. Just
for a few days.” When Dean still keeps silent, Castiel adds, “It
doesn’t smell like you anymore. You need to change that!”
He sounds as if this is an
unacceptable fact he wouldn’t tolerate any longer and Sam can’t help
but chuckle quietly.
Dean just blinks a few times before
Castiel’s words finally reach his brain. “Oh,” he
whispers, a mild flush spreading across his cheeks. “Um … okay.”
Castiel nods, obviously satisfied
with that answer, and strides
out the room with his mission accomplished.
And Dean just watches him leaving
the room, smiling fondly, and puts the jacket on immediately.
“Well, usually I don’t enjoy
doctor’s visits but I quite like this one.”
Dean smiles warmly at his daughter
in front of him who’s got a shiny stethoscope pressed on his chest, a
look of adorable concentration on her face.
“Stop talking, Daddy,” she
hisses reproachfully. “I can’t hear your heart.”
Dean’s lips twitch upwards. “Sorry.”
Mary watches him warily for a second
before she finally goes back to her task. She slides
the stethoscope over his bare skin and Dean suppresses a shiver
because of the cold metal. The instrument is the real deal, a gift by
Castiel’s brother for her 7th birthday. Gabriel is always
more than eager to spoil his niece with the nicest stuff he can find
and – most importantly – to win the ongoing war with Sam for the
“best uncle ever”-award.
A sudden movement in the kitchen
grabs Dean’s attention. Castiel appears next to the coffee maker out
of freaking nowhere and throws an amused glance in their direction,
chuckling quietly. His blinding smile makes Dean’s chest feel all
warm and fuzzy.
Dean blinks and turns his focus back
to Mary. “Yes, honey?”
“Are you okay?” She looks
slightly concerned now. “Your heart just jumped.”
Dean hesitates a moment but then he
starts to smirk, ducking his head. “Well, yeah … That happens a
lot around your dad.”
He trains his eyes back on Castiel
who shakes his head fondly, a light blush on his cheeks.
But Mary just snorts. “You’re so sappy.”
Her voice however sounds
And Dean only shrugs, grinning. “I
know, honey. I know.”
And even odder, when Mark and Kieran had come into the library, Kieran had gone immediately over to Max and picked him up, delighted by his blue skin and his tiny horns.
Max had stuck his hand into Kieran’s wavy hair and pulled. Kieran had just laughed. “That’s right, it changes color, little nixie-like warlock,” he said. “Look.” And his hair went from blue-black to blue in an instant. Max giggled.
“I didn’t know you could do that on purpose,” said Mark, who had always thought of Kieran’s hair as a reflection of his moods, uncontrollable as the tides.
“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Mark Blackthorn,” Kieran said, setting Max down.
Alec and Magnus had exchanged a look at that, the sort of look that made Mark feel as if they had reached a silent and agreed-upon consensus …
I can’t–damn it, I can’t do this. he cried out. He shook his head with two fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. I’m losing it. Sense, sleep - everything. I look at you, I look at you and the whole world unravels. Give up on you? God, how? You’re all I know.