For Dean on his 38th birthday
Jan. 17th, 2015 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
godless_sonThis year, Castiel did not purchase a pie for Dean's birthday. This year, Castiel baked a pie. A real pie with sugar and butter with nothing remotely healthy about it accompanied by full fat vanilla ice cream. It had taken 28 practice pies baked at Neil's house (sometimes at very odd hours of the night, he hopes they aren't angry) and he had taken the liberty of ensuring that Dean got a good night's sleep so he could make the official birthday pie exactly perfect.
There is a fortuitous fresh blanket of snow on the ground and he thinks their home, for all of its flaws, has never looked more perfect. Yukio had chosen to remain at his own apartment last night so aside from the their veritable herd, they have the house to themselves. After feeding, walking and generally tending to the hoard, he readies an overlarge piece of pie a la mode and a cup of coffee and carefully makes his way into their still dark bedroom.
Once the pie and coffee is safely in place he peels off his t-shirt and pauses, looking down at Dean's face in the pale morning light. He has a few more gray hairs than last year, an almost imperceptible deepening of the fine lines around his eyes. In Castiel's eyes, he looks somehow better for it, the signs of aging a badge of pride considering all they have gone through. While Castiel may have celebrated his vessel's fortieth birthday, his hair has not more gray and the lines around his eyes look basically the same as the day he inhabited this body. Jimmy was 35 when Castiel took the body from him so he supposes that Dean looks older than him, now. He wonders if the difference between 35 and 40 are obvious, if people wonder about his age. He is unsure how much longer he can stand watching Dean age without him but knows he is lucky to be able to still protect him as he can. He is a very lucky man.
"Dean," he murmurs, crawling onto the bed and running his fingers through those short, gray hairs at Dean's temple. "Happy Birthday."
There is a fortuitous fresh blanket of snow on the ground and he thinks their home, for all of its flaws, has never looked more perfect. Yukio had chosen to remain at his own apartment last night so aside from the their veritable herd, they have the house to themselves. After feeding, walking and generally tending to the hoard, he readies an overlarge piece of pie a la mode and a cup of coffee and carefully makes his way into their still dark bedroom.
Once the pie and coffee is safely in place he peels off his t-shirt and pauses, looking down at Dean's face in the pale morning light. He has a few more gray hairs than last year, an almost imperceptible deepening of the fine lines around his eyes. In Castiel's eyes, he looks somehow better for it, the signs of aging a badge of pride considering all they have gone through. While Castiel may have celebrated his vessel's fortieth birthday, his hair has not more gray and the lines around his eyes look basically the same as the day he inhabited this body. Jimmy was 35 when Castiel took the body from him so he supposes that Dean looks older than him, now. He wonders if the difference between 35 and 40 are obvious, if people wonder about his age. He is unsure how much longer he can stand watching Dean age without him but knows he is lucky to be able to still protect him as he can. He is a very lucky man.
"Dean," he murmurs, crawling onto the bed and running his fingers through those short, gray hairs at Dean's temple. "Happy Birthday."
