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The sun is blazing hot on the back of Dean’s jacket. He can feel the sticky sweat starting to pool on his neck, under the collar of his flannel—not that he would tell Cas that, because Cas had been insistent that it was too hot for all the layers despite Dean’s insistence that he needed them, and Cas has absolutely no qualms about saying ‘I told you so’, no matter how many times Dean has tried to tell him that nobody likes a sore winner. Cas himself is in an airy, white linen shirt and slacks, like he’s the resident of some sort of Greek island instead of Dean’s husband, in the middle of Sioux Falls.
The dirt path up Jody and Donna’s driveway is longer and rockier than Dean remembers—the parking is exactly as bad, which is why he and Cas parked at the end and walked up in the middle-of-the-day sun. Emma is a solid, warm weight in his arms, as she has been since they pulled her out of Purgatory three weeks ago, to get a second chance. Dean’s been somewhat overprotective since the rift closed. So sue him, he lost her once, he’s not doing it again. She came to him human, crying, barely a week old, and fit into his arms like a jigsaw piece, and Dean has been utterly in love with her since her little blue eyes locked onto his.
The changing bag is swishing over Cas’s shoulder, and Cas keeps his arm stretched out towards Dean and the baby to steady them in case Dean trips. Dean’s sure footed all the way, because this path is a familiar tread for him, especially in the six months since retirement—even more so since the baby came along, and Dean found himself asking Emma’s opinion about replacing the hinges on their garden gate and decided he needed regular adult conversation.
“Do you remember our conversation from last time, love?” Cas says, as they pass under the dappled green light of the trees lining the driveway. The road is smooth now, so Cas is walking close out of choice rather than necessity. Dean wants to kiss him, like he always does, but even more so when he feels Cas’s knuckles brushing the elbow of the jacket Dean definitely didn’t need to bring, when he looks over and sees Cas looking sunkissed and handsome next to him.
“Cas, she was definitely asking me out,” Dean says. This debate has raged between them for two months, since Jody’s last party ended with fireworks being let off in the back garden, and the fire brigade being called. Their wedding rings were shiny and fresh then, their vows only a fortnight or so behind them.
“Dean, she is a colleague of Donna’s. I am very sure that she was just making conversation. You are extremely unsubtle with your wedding ring and you spent all of the last party with your hand in my back pocket.” It’s true—Dean takes every opportunity to show off his husband, and now, his baby. But he spent a lifetime hiding in the shadows, beyond the fringes of society, so he thinks he’s warranted a little bragging.
“And even then, she couldn’t resist all this.” A sweeping head to toe gesture encompasses everything Dean is trying to show him: the baby wrapped in blankets in his arms, who has just spit up on herself and a little on Dean; the two days of stubble Dean just hasn’t had time to shave. Emma wriggles in his arms and he smiles down at her.“What can I say? Chicks dig me,” Dean says, when he looks back up, flashing Cas a grin that’s all teeth, a grin that’s a dare for Cas to kiss it off his face.
“Mm, people often want what they can’t have, I’ve found,” Cas says. They reach the door and Cas gives into the urge to kiss him as he rings the doorbell. Jody opens the door as he’s pulling back to greet her with a warm ‘hello’, leaving Dean somewhat dazed on the doorstep.
The party is in full swing inside. Dean isn’t sure if Alex and Claire had compromised on the decorating or had a fistfight about it, but either way, there are two very distinct styles in the streamers and balloons and napkins strewn around the room. Happy Birthday Donna banners are plastered against the windows, fluttering as people move in and out of the room. Cas pulls their gift out of the changing bag and places it in the centre of the pile, which is teetering precariously as more and more gifts are added.
Jack comes thundering through the living room, chasing the cat that Claire found in a dumpster and promptly named “Trash”, despite all of Jody and Donna‘s protests. Over by the buffet table, Sam is doing an incredible impression of a normal human being. Standing with his arm around Eileen, popping cheese cubes into his mouth, he pretends to the Deputy he’s conversing with that he doesn’t, in fact, run a secret underground bunker full of highly trained people who hunt supernatural creatures. Knowing Sam, he’s probably telling him about his Prius. Sam loves his Prius. Dean gives him a nod as Cas’s hand settles warm and secure on the small of his back. He saw Sam last night, for hours. He, Cas, Sam and Eileen played Mariokart on Jack’s Nintendo Switch until Emma groused enough that Dean had to put her to bed, and Sam and Eileen took their leave an hour or so past midnight.
Dean and Cas mingle their way around the room—it’s easier now, with Cas in an honest, legal librarianship position and Dean a stay-at-home parent, to make small talk with regular people. They can tell stories, now, about their honeymoon, the curtains they picked out for the guest bedroom, the little faces Emma makes when she wakes up. They don’t have to mentally censor themselves to replace every instance of the word “werewolf” with “dog”.
Later, as Dean sits on a couch in the living room feeding Emma her dinner, he watches Cas impress one of Jody’s hunter friends with his incredible knowledge of Roman history. He knows he’s staring , just as he knows he can’t actually help it—that’s his husband and they’re married in an honest-to-God legally binding way. Julie drops into the armchair next to him, fanning herself with a napkin. It’s warm, even with all the doors and windows flung open, muggy and close in that late summer way.
“Hot in here, huh?” she says, glancing over at him. He’s taken his jacket off but stubbornly refused to remove the flannel. The only concession he had made is rolling up the sleeves, but with Emma’s little furnace of a body pressed up against his skin, it’s a moot point. “Nice to see you again, Dean,” she smiles at him and Dean feels his skin prickle with anticipation as he waits to be proven right. “And this is your little one?” She leans in a little to look at Emma, who has finished her bottle and is now dozing in his arms. He lifts her over his shoulder to burp her. “Your man is here somewhere, too, isnt he?” She asks. Dean feels a private little thrill spark down his spine, hearing Cas called ‘his man’. “Donna talks a lot about you two.” They spot Cas, who is plucking at the front of his shirt in the heat, and both give him a wave. Dean blows a kiss to Cas, cheesy and over the top. In response, Cas rolls his eyes but pretends to catch it. Julie sighs, sliding down the chair a little. “You two seem so happy.”
This is it, Dean thinks. She’s about to say it.
She slaps the arms of her chair. “Well, lovely chatting with you. Take care of that little one!” She gives Dean a firm pat to the shoulder and leaves.
In utter dismay, Dean watches her go, until Cas comes over, face split into an absolutely shit-eating grin. He puts an arm around Dean to pull them both in and kisses his temple. Emma is still over his shoulder, drooling on his flannel. Cas’s words vibrate against Dean’s skin, melting down his neck.
“It’s okay, my love.” He says, even though Cas has now been proven right, which means that Dean is on trash duty for the next week, and he hates trash duty.
“Chicks dig me, Cas,” Dean grumbles against Cas’s neck.
“I know they do,” Cas says, placatingly, rubbing his hand up and down Dean’s arm. Dean feels the little bump of his wedding ring catching on the folds of his shirt and thanks his lucky stars that it doesn’t actually matter if chicks dig him or not, because he has a husband who digs him more than anyone.