For Dean on his Birthday

[godless_son]

"Dean."

"Dean, wake up."

He has everything prepared and has had everything prepared for several hours and while he tried to lay down and sleep, he simply did not need it tonight. Plus, he is mildly nervous about how Dean will react to his plans. As far as he can tell, the Winchesters only celebrated birthdays when they were younger and they seemed to revolve largely around Sam. He is uncertain Dean has had many of his own celebrations and intends to make a change.

Dean deserves this and Castiel has decided he deserves the opportunity to give it to him. But now he is bored and would like to start the day. There are three pies still cooling in the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee waiting and all the animals are at least for now, taken care of. He blinks, changing into a pair of pajamas (he's been told he's much more comfortable to be with in bed when not fully clothed) and shuffles underneath the covers. He misses the sensation of warmth and body heat but he remembers it well enough to find it comforting to hide underneath here with Dean all the same.

"It's your birthday, Dean."

Comments

[always_enduphere]

As he always does in moments where no danger is imminent, Dean wakes slowly, blinking reluctantly through his first few breaths of consciousness. But then the warmth of Castiel's body stretched alongside his penetrates, and Dean slings an arm around his waist, burying his nose against Castiel's throat.

And then the smell of pie penetrates, and Dean's eyes slit open. Dimly, he remembers other birthdays - his fifth, the last before his mother was gone, and the thirtieth birthday he'd passed on the island, a memory he shies away from, as he does all memories of Angua.

He can't recall now why, exactly, a birthday is cause for the scent of not one, but three pies. Unless..."Am I forty?" Dean asks. "Did that - am I forty now?"