Better Or Worse (Destiel Short Story)

End

The Tv lights bounce off of the walls in the dark of the living room, Dean's eyes open slowly, his fingers inching towards the remote. He moves slowly in his half asleep state, his pinky presses the button to pause the screen and he takes a second to stretch his legs as his upper body seems otherwise occupied. When he looks down he sees Jack first, curled up on his right side with his head pillowed by Dean's thigh. In Jack's hair is Cas' fingers, lax amidst the strands. His arm is stretched across Dean's lap, his head resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean smiles softly as his nose brushes Cas' hair, he leaves a soft kiss there before relaxing in his seat.

He allows himself to savor this moment, appreciating all of the warmth and stillness of it. The surety that if he moved, the moment wouldn't fade, or crumble, like he was so worried about in the first few months of Cas' recovery. It felt weird calling it a recovery. It felt like Cas was recovering from his recovery. It turns out Cas slid from one trauma into a new one. Seclusion and guilt gnawed a hole in him then pushing away, and ultimately hurting, Dean and Jack ensured a full body emptiness that he couldn't escape. Dr. Gomez had accepted him back despite the  appointments they had made and didn't show up to.

There was a new place in their medicine cabinet for medication, which Cas takes every morning with Dean standing right behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, lips pressing soft kisses to his shoulders.

After two years, going back to just being husbands felt like dating. In the early years, Dean would drive up to Cas' shitty loft apartment and 9 times out of 10 they would end up drinking shitty tequila, on Cas' shitty kitchen floor or his shitty, hand-me down couch, talking for hours  until they fell into a heated mess of limbs and biting kisses. Those years were all passion and hunger because they were too broke for anything else.

After two weeks of Cas' recovery, Dean found him crying on the kitchen floor, well past 2am, clutching a bottle of shitty tequila.

"Do you remember this?" He had asked, lifting the bottle so Dean could see it. Dean sighed softly, leaning his hip against the counter as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do in this situation. Thick tears were falling from his red-rimmed eyes, body curled into the corner of the cabinets.

"I remember. It was the cheapest and we got the cheapest so we had enough left for sweet tart ropes," Dean said, offering a gentle smile.

"Oh god, sweet tart ropes," Cas released a wet laugh, letting the bottle of tequila drop into his lap, clinking partially against the floor. Dean wanted to ask why he was on the floor, why he was crying, where he got that bottle because Dean only drinks the good stuff now. Instead, he settles onto the floor, gently pulls Cas' legs out so that he isn't curled in a ball, and he takes the bottle, drinking a little sip then cringing.

"That is fucking horrible," he said. Cas laughed, sniffling halfway through and wiping at his nose with his sweater sleeve.

"I picked it up yesterday, after it sent me into a panic attack and I spent an hour in the grocery store bathroom," he shook his head, eyes fixed on the bottle.

"What?" Dean shifted a bit, angling his head towards Cas. Cas shook his head more firmly, waving his hand a bit to stop Dean's next question.

"I didn't tell you because as soon as I got home, I forgot. Well," Cas smacks his lips, sighing softly as he lifts his eyes to meet Dean's. "I didn't forget, but you made it better. You and Jack both. You two were there, and you met me at the door with these identical smiles, and Jack was talking about movie night with all that excitement and happiness in his voice. And you looked at him so fondly, then you looked at me and that expression didn't falter, then you kissed me, and everything went away. Until tonight, when I looked at that damn bottle and I remembered how much everything has changed and how horrible I was these past two years and-"

"Hey," Dean stops him before he can spiral any further, stretching his arm up and back to set the tequila out of sight. "These past two years were hard. Everything that happened with Meg was a little especially hard, but we've worked through that, okay? That doesn't make you horrible. I'm sorry that you went through that in the grocery store, and I'm especially sorry that you went through it alone." Dean opened his arms and Cas very carefully leaned into him. "I love you. I love you, and we're going to get through this." Cas sighed, relaxing more freely into Dean's space.

"You're an amazing husband. I hope you know that even when I don't tell you," Cas said, picking his head up to look into Dean's eyes. "And I love you too." Dean had a response on the tip of his brain but he got distracted by Cas' eyes. Bluer than ever despite the redness surrounding them and the dull light of the kitchen. For the first time in two years, Dean leans in and when he kisses his husband, he doesn't stop. Cas' tears stop, his stuttering breaths stop, the trembling in his hands stop, his sniffling stops, but he doesn't. He straddles Dean's lap on the kitchen floor like they used to in that shitty kitchen, and Dean holds him flush against him. He slides his hands up his shirt, seeking salvation. Cas grips at his hair and kisses like Dean is his first breath of fresh air after being in a burning building for two years.

Then Dean insists they move to their bed because they are too old to be doing it on the kitchen floor.

6 months after that night, things felt normal. A new normal. A normal where Dean can smile softly and enjoy little moments like these. When his husband and son are safely, peacefully asleep.

He takes one more moment to enjoy their warmth before carefully waking up Cas. He gestures silently to Jack and Cas nods tiredly. Dean shifts up with a quiet grunt, his back popping when he stands. He picks Jack up off the couch and carries him upstairs to his bedroom. It's foreboding to think that Jack is getting too big for Dean to carry him upstairs, he's growing too fast.

"Goodnight, buddy," he whispers, pressing a kiss to Jack's forehead.

"Night," Jack sighs contently, rolling over into his blankets. Dean switches on Jack's nightlight before leaving the room, keeping the door ajar. Cas is already in bed when Dean walks into the bedroom. He slips out of his shirt and pants before crawling into their bed, getting settled under new, white blankets. Cas rolls over when he feels Dean, snuggling up to his side and pressing a lazy kiss to his cheek.

"Love you," he whispers before settling against Dean's chest.

"I love you too, honey," Dean replies, "so much."

And he means it. With everything inside of him. He loves every version, every shape and size, every high and low, every single fiber of Cas.

For better or worse.

the end