Chapter Text
Dean stared at the woman across from him in silence, wondering what he was supposed to be doing. The ticking of the clock in the room was loud, and Dean had been subconsciously counting the seconds, and it had been four whole minutes of silence, and it was driving him crazy.
Dr Rowena Macleod sat in front of him, bouncy red hair in a ponytail, wearing a dark purple dress, notepad resting on her daintily crossed knees, and a pen poised in hand to take notes.
She was smiling faintly, the expression unchanging, and it was making Dean fidget. As the seconds ticked to five minutes, he sighed, unable to stand the silence any longer.
“I don’t know what to say here,” he said.
Rowena’s smile widened slightly. “This is your time, Dean,” she said. “You can say whatever you want to say.”
Dean crossed his arms. He hated talking about himself, hated the spotlight on him. Maybe this had all been a bad idea, maybe he should just leave…
“How’s your arm?” she asked.
“Huh?” asked Dean, intelligently, before glancing at his arm. “Yeah, uh, it’s fine. The doctor cleared me to go back to work after today.”
“That’s good,” nodded Rowena. “And how do you feel about that?”
“Fine, I guess,” he shrugged. “I like being busy.”
“Hm,” said Rowena, making a note about that and he wanted to protest. “And you haven’t been busy for the past two weeks while you were recovering?”
“No,” he said. “Pretty much been binging the Great British Bakeoff the whole time.” Rowena’s smile softened slightly at that, and it put Dean at ease. “I find it calming.”
“The show?” asked Rowena.
“Yeah, but mostly baking,” he admitted.
“What do you find calming about baking?” asked Rowena, her tone politely inquiring.
Dean sighed, wondering how to answer it. “Baking is precise, orderly,” he said, slowly. “Any idiot can cook. But baking requires skill, patience, and attention to detail.”
“And those things help calm you down?” asked Rowena. Dean nodded. “So, pretty much the same things you find fulfilling in your job as well?”
Dean frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he said.
“Well, dear, then that’s your homework for today,” said Rowena, brightly.
Dean left Rowena’s office about half an hour later, still a bit unsure about this whole therapy thing. Talking to Sam about his last tour had opened the can of worms, and in his determination to try, he had reached out to the VA’s outpatient counselling service and they had directed him to Rowena who was based in Spokane.
The first session had been online and had only involved Dean filling out a lot of questionnaires for Rowena, and this had been the first proper session he’d had, and he’d driven to Rowena’s office in Spokane for it. Dean had expected her to ask about Alastair or talk about his last tour but she hadn’t brought up any of it. Instead, they had talked about Dean’s job, his frustration over writing a good best man speech for Sam’s upcoming nuptials, and Dean’s excitement at going back to work.
Dean had no idea how talking about any of that was supposed to help, but he felt fine, felt a bit relieved, as a matter of fact, so he was taking it as a good sign.
His phone rang when he was about ten minutes away from Willow Falls, and he smiled as Castiel’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hey, Cas,” greeted Dean, as he answered the phone.
“Hello, Dean,” said Castiel, and he sounded exhausted.
“You sound tired,” said Dean. “Board still being a bitch?”
“Unbelievably so,” sighed Castiel. “But we’ve had a breakthrough this afternoon. We’re reconvening soon, and with some luck, we should be able to wrap the deal up today.”
Only a day after Dean had come home from the hospital, Castiel had been summoned to Seattle with the rest of the Archangel executives and the board of directors, as a crucial merger was about to fall through. He and Castiel had spent the last two weeks with daily phone calls and occasional text messages, but Dean still missed him.
“Sounds good, Cas,” said Dean, hoping he’d be back soon.
“How’s your arm?” asked Castiel, like he always did.
“It’s fine,” said Dean. “Doc cleared me this morning. I’ve got another follow up appointment in three weeks, but should be fine now. No lasting damage and the rehab specialist gave me some exercises to do at home.”
“That’s good, Dean,” said Castiel. “Are you at home?”
“Just getting in now,” he said. “I, uh, had an errand to run in Spokane.”
“What kind of an errand?” asked Castiel, curiously.
“Just, uh, wedding stuff for Sam and Eileen,” lied Dean. He hadn’t told Castiel he was in therapy; he wasn’t ready for that conversation with him, not just yet.
“How’s your speech coming along?” asked Castiel, with a touch of amusement.
“Well, so far I’ve got ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming tonight’,” replied Dean. “And that’s about it.”
Castiel chuckled. “You’ve got a month still,” he said. “You’ll come up with something amazing.”
“I’d better,” said Dean, as he pulled into Willow Falls.
“You will,” reassured Castiel. Dean heard someone in the background, followed by Castiel sighing. “I’ve got to go. They’re reconvening.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” said Dean.
“Thanks, Dean,” said Castiel. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“See ya, Cas,” said Dean, and hung up. He drove down the main street and as he drove past a familiar shop, his eyes widened when he saw a black Jeep parked out front. Smiling to himself, he pulled over and parked the Impala and hopped out.
Dean jogged to the entrance of Harvelle’s Hardware, and sure enough, Ellen was behind the register. He pushed the door open and a bell tinkled above his head, drawing Ellen’s attention.
“Well, well, well, look who’s back in town,” said Dean, grinning as he sauntered over to Ellen.
Ellen put her hands on her hips and glared at him, though her lips twitched with humour. “I go out of town for a month and you go and get yourself shot, boy?” she demanded.
Dean shrugged sheepishly. “Can’t stay out of trouble even when I try,” he said. “Welcome back.”
Ellen rolled her eyes but came out from behind the counter to hug him nearly breathless. Dean smiled softly as he hugged her back, wincing only a little when she smacked the back of his head when she pulled away.
“You’re gonna send me to an early grave,” she grumbled.
“How’s Jo?” asked Dean, changing the subject hastily.
“She’s fine, enjoying California,” said Ellen, with a fond smile.
“Her new place all set up?” asked Dean. Jo was Ellen’s daughter and she had recently moved to Silicon Valley to work as a marketing exec for some fancy tech company. Ellen had been out of town helping Jo with the move and getting her new place set up.
“Yeah, I don’t know what the girl was thinking buying a fixer upper, but it’s all fixed up now,” said Ellen. “How’s your arm?”
“Healing,” replied Dean. “Bobby tell you?”
“And your brother, who knows how to pick up a phone, unlike you,” she said, snippily. Dean just shrugged, and Ellen shook her head. “You stopping by to say hello or do you need something?”
“I was just stoppin’ by but now that I’m here, I’ll pick up a few things,” said Dean.
Ellen nodded, and Dean wandered down the paint aisle. He had promised Maura Calbury he would paint her porch before he’d gone and gotten himself shot, and he supposed he could get onto that. There weren’t really any pending jobs from WL Realty that needed his attention, and after two weeks of being stuck with nothing to do, Dean needed a project.
Harvelle’s Hardware didn’t have the biggest collection but it was easily Dean’s most frequently visited store apart from the grocery store, unless he needed something specialised which was when he made the trip to the Home Depot in Spokane.
Dean quickly picked out some sandpaper, a can of primer and a can of a good latex based white paint, bringing his purchases up to Ellen at the counter.
“Doin’ some painting?” asked Ellen, as she started ringing him up.
“Promised Maura Calbury I’d repaint the porch railings on her house,” said Dean. “The old paint is flaking off.”
“That’s nice of you,” said Ellen, putting through a hefty discount as she smiled approvingly. “Now, I’m making chilli this weekend so you stop by, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, and paid for and picked up his purchases. “I’m glad you’re back, Ellen.”
She smiled softly. “It’s good to be back,” she said. “See you around, kid.”
Dean nodded his goodbye and left the store. He put the things in the Impala’s trunk and briefly considered borrowing the WL Realty truck which he usually did for contracting jobs, but this job was small enough that he wouldn’t really need it.
It was close to the end of the day and he’d promised to go to Sam and Eileen’s place for dinner, so Dean drove home and decided to hop in the shower.
His phone buzzed with a text when he stepped out of the shower and he saw that it was a message from Castiel.
Deal is done. I’m driving home tomorrow.
Dean smiled broadly and responded quickly. Look forward to it. He paused and bit his lip. I’ve got a favour to return. He felt himself blush slightly as he sent the second message.
Castiel replied a moment later. Dinner first. I’ll pick you up at 6.30.
Dean chuckled. Sounds good. And then back to mine?
Yes. I can’t wait.
Dean heart reacted to that message, and then got dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a slate grey Henley before grabbing a thick jacket and leaving the house. Castiel would be back tomorrow, and he could hardly wait. He had jerked off more times than he’d care to admit to the thought of that wicked mouth of his, and like he’d told Castiel, Dean had a favour to return.
Sam opened the door when Dean got to his house, and then silently signed ‘just go with it’. Dean gave him a puzzled look but followed him into the living room. He found out soon enough why he’d received that warning because Eileen was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by open boxes, looking pretty harried. One of the boxes looked like it was full of glass tubes, another with a whole bunch of corks, and there were spools of white ribbon scattered on the floor.
Dean waved to get her attention. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking around at the chaos in the room. He spied another box with parchment coloured tags and jars of what looked like random dirt.
“We’re putting together wedding favours,” said Sam, with a small smile at Dean.
“This is stupid,” declared Eileen, throwing her hands up in frustration. She was dressed in sweats with her hair in a messy bun, and looked visibly annoyed. “Whoever came up with this concept is stupid.”
“Okay,” said Dean, slowly. “What’s it supposed to be exactly?”
Sam rolled his eyes and went over to pick up one of the glass tubes. Dean realised belatedly that it was a test tube, which Sam then filled up with the dirt from one of the jars, and then used the cork to seal it. Once he’d done that, he picked up a tag which had ‘Sam & Eileen 11.11.2023’ written on it in elegant gold writing. Threading a bit of white ribbon through the tag, he tied it around the test tube, just under the cork. He held it up triumphantly when he was done.
“You’re giving dirt to your wedding guests?” asked Dean.
“It’s not dirt,” scowled Sam, as Eileen laughed. “It’s tea.”
Dean frowned at him. “How’s that better?” he asked.
“Sam had the idea to do ten different kinds of tea for each guest,” explained Eileen.
Dean whistled. “So at 60 guests that’s 600 of these you need to do, huh?” he asked.
“That’s why I said it’s stupid,” said Eileen.
Sam gave her a look. “You liked the idea before,” he pointed out.
“I love the idea,” countered Eileen, but then frowned at the chaos. “But I don’t want to put it together.”
“That’s why we’ve got Dean,” said Sam.
Dean flipped him off as Eileen laughed. “You better get me food and liquor if you’re going to put me to work,” he said, taking off his jacket.
“Already taken care of,” said Sam, smugly. “I’ve got Thai food on the way, and I’ll pour the wine now.”
Dean rolled his eyes again but nodded begrudgingly and got to work. The different teas were labelled, and as much as he wanted to make fun of Sam for choosing such a fussy little thing for a wedding favour, he didn’t. Sam could have asked him to paint pink unicorns on grains of rice and Dean would have done it without complaints. Well, he would have complained, but he would have done it anyway.
“Thanks for doing this,” said Eileen, as she joined him.
“It’s okay,” smiled Dean. The tea actually smelled nice, now that he thought about it.
“Have you heard from Castiel?” asked Eileen.
Dean nodded. “He’s back in town tomorrow,” he said, unable to help his smile.
Eileen grinned back at him, and then looked up as Sam returned with glasses of wine for her and Dean.
“Castiel’s back?” asked Sam, giving them their wine.
“Tomorrow,” replied Dean.
“That’s good,” said Sam. “We can resume house hunting.”
“Got any good candidates?” asked Dean, sipping his Chardonnay between preparing the wedding favours.
“A few,” nodded Sam. “I emailed him some of them earlier in the week and he liked a couple, so we'll probably start with those.”
They paused making wedding favours when the food arrived, but got right back into it as soon as the food had been eaten. They’d made pretty good progress between the three of them by the time it was nine, and there were less than half left to go. Dean was starting to feel fatigued though, and he had stopped a few times to flex his left arm, which had Eileen declaring they should call it a night. Dean smiled at her gratefully, knowing she’d done it for his sake, not wanting to make him overstretch his arm which had only just healed.
“We’ve got final tux fittings next week,” said Sam, pouring the last of the wine in all of their glasses.
“Yeah,” nodded Dean. “And I’ve got your bachelor’s weekend planned at the end of next week.”
Sam gave him a look. “And you still won’t tell me what we’re doing?” he asked.
“Nope,” said Dean, cheerfully. “It’s a surprise, Sammy.”
Sam sighed, not looking too thrilled about it. “Just, no strippers, alright?”
“Sammy, you wound me,” said Dean, tossing a wink in Eileen’s direction who smiled into her glass of wine.
Sam shook his head and drained his wine. Eileen followed suit and then stood up, taking hers and Sam’s empty glasses to the kitchen. He noticed her give Sam a look, and Dean turned to Sam questioningly.
“What?” asked Dean.
Sam sighed. “Don’t get mad,” he said.
Dean frowned. “What, Sammy?” he asked.
Sam sighed again. “I, uh, invited Dad to the wedding,” he said.
Dean blinked at him in absolute shock. “What?” he asked. This was the last thing he had expected from Sam, of all people.
“Look, I figured, I would try,” said Sam.
“Where did you even know to send the invite?” asked Dean, still in shock.
Sam rubbed his forehead with visible frustration. “When Eileen and I got engaged, I, uh, reached out to a PI to try and track him down. His last known address was in Windom, Minnesota,” he said.
“You did this almost a year ago and didn’t tell me?” demanded Dean, now angry instead of shocked.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this,” said Sam.
Dean glared at him and set his wineglass aside, getting to his feet. “That’s not your call to make,” he said, sharply.
Sam stood up as well. “Dean,” he said, placatingly. “Look, man, I get it…”
“You don’t get it,” snapped Dean. “The man walked out on us. You weren’t even out of high school when he skipped town. And now, what? You want him at your wedding to play happy families?”
Sam sighed. “No one’s playing anything,” he said. “Dean, I know what Dad did, alright? And he left us in the shit, and if it hadn’t been for you, we’d both be in the system. But I want him there. I want him to see that him walking out didn’t stop either of us, that we both built something. Something good, something important.”
Dean exhaled roughly. “Sammy,” he said, trying to calm down. “I don’t want to see him.”
Sam nodded. “He hasn’t RSVP’d so I doubt he’ll show,” he admitted. “But I wanted to tell you, because if he does turn up…”
“What? You don’t want me to knock his teeth in?” asked Dean.
Sam chuckled humourlessly. “I’d actually pay good money to see that,” he said. “Eileen probably wants to see it more.”
Dean sighed and shook his head at Sam. “It’s your wedding, Sammy, so far be it for me to tell you who to invite,” he said.
“Dean,” said Sam.
“Look, I get it, you want to show him you made it, but I could’ve happily gone the rest of my life without ever seeing him again,” said Dean, picking up his jacket.
“I know,” said Sam, softly. “I’m sorry, Dean.”
Dean sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I should get home.”
“Dean,” said Sam.
“Look, Sam,” said Dean, tiredly. “I understand your reasons, I do, but…I need time, alright?”
“Alright,” agreed Sam.
Dean nodded and gave him a thin smile and turned to leave. He ran into Eileen in the hallway and he hugged her goodnight before leaving the house.
His head was spinning, and he knew it didn’t have to do with the wine. He’d had less than two glasses over three hours, so he would be fine to drive, but the bombshell that Sam had dropped on him would definitely keep him up at night.
Dean spent the next morning working on Maura’s house. He’d had a restless night until he’d gotten out of bed at midnight to drink whiskey until he had passed out. He was still feeling the effects in the morning, but having his hands busy was helping.
By the time he had finished scraping off the old paint, and sanding and priming the railings, it was already mid-morning. Maura had left to open the shop, and Dean wondered if he was imagining it, but Maura looked a bit pale and worn. He had asked if she was okay, but she’d waved his concern away.
Dean’s thoughts lingered on his father as he painted the railings carefully, methodically. He was still pissed at Sam for not telling him he’d tracked John down, but ultimately, he understood Sam’s reasons even if he didn’t agree with them.
Two coats of paint later, the sun was high in the sky, and Dean gathered up his things and stopped by Biggersons for a quick lunch which he ate in the Impala, before figuring he’d drop by and see Sam to clear the air. He parked the Impala and stepped out into the uncharacteristically sunny October morning. He was still wearing the old jeans he wore when he painted and a slightly sweaty black t-shirt under his brown chore jacket.
He hoped there wouldn’t be any clients in the WL Realty office, or at least no one in the lobby, but when he stepped past the doors, he saw the back of a familiar tan trenchcoat.
Dean smiled, his mood lifting instantly, as he walked up behind Castiel, who was speaking to Lily at her desk. “Heya, Cas,” he said.
Castiel turned around quickly, his eyes going wide when he saw Dean. “Dean,” he said, sounding surprised. His eyes ran down Dean’s body, and he wished he was wearing something better than paint-flecked jeans, but when Castiel’s gaze met his, it had darkened in that ever so familiar way. Dean licked his lips almost involuntarily and saw Castiel’s eyes track the movement.
Lily cleared her throat politely, and Dean jumped slightly, realising he and Castiel weren’t alone.
“Uh, I’ll go and let Mr Winchester know you’re here,” said Lily, smiling at them as she hurried away.
Dean barely had time to nod in her direction, when Castiel grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his head down into a toe-curling kiss. Dean muffled a moan against Castiel’s lips as Castiel’s nails scraped against the short hairs at the base of Dean’s skull, his mouth relentless in letting Dean know that while Castiel had never explicitly said so, he had definitely missed Dean over the last two weeks.
“Welcome back, sweetheart,” murmured Dean, when they pulled back briefly to breathe.
Castiel just kissed him again in response, his tongue flicking past Dean’s parted lips into a quick but dirty kiss, pulling away only when they heard footsteps. He released Dean and turned around as Sam walked around the corner with Lily in tow.
“Hey, guys,” said Sam, shooting a slightly questioning look at Dean.
“Oh, is this a bad time?” asked Castiel, looking between Dean and Sam. “You said to come as soon as I was back in town, Sam.”
“No, no, it’s perfect,” said Sam, with a polite smile.
“I’m the one dropping in unannounced,” said Dean. “Didn’t realise you guys had an appointment.”
“Sam and I are looking at properties this afternoon,” explained Castiel, before his gaze turned contemplative as he looked at Dean. “Would you like to join us?”
Dean’s eyes widened, and he saw Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Is that okay?” asked Dean, looking at Sam.
“Yeah, of course,” said Sam. “Come on, this way. I’ll show you what I’ve got on my list first, Castiel.”
Castiel nodded as he and Dean followed Sam to his office. Sam went and sat behind his desk, offering the visitors’ chairs to Dean and Castiel.
“I’ve got the shortlisted properties,” said Sam, opening up a black leather portfolio and setting it down on his desk, turned toward Castiel. “There are also other properties which match your requirements.”
Castiel began flicking through them, asking Sam questions about each of the listings, mostly about the location and the commute to the Archangel office. Dean wasn’t entirely impressed by any of the properties on the list thus far - the places in town were good but they were small, and it seemed like Castiel was looking for something with at least four bedrooms and a bit of land as well.
He flicked to the next listing, and Dean’s eyes widened as he saw the beautiful country-style home with a wraparound porch looking like it had come from a Norman Rockwell painting.
“What about this one?” asked Dean, reading through the details with interest. “It sits on half an acre of land, five bedrooms, six baths, an additional apartment above the garage,” he read. He glanced at Castiel, who nodded.
“It does seem to suit what I’m looking for,” said Castiel.
Sam looked at the listing. “It’s not one of my listings but I’m happy to take you through it,” he said. “It is five miles outside of town, though.”
“Yeah, but that’s only fifteen minutes away,” said Dean.
“I think it’s worth looking at, Sam,” said Castiel.
“Of course,” nodded Sam. “We can head over now.”
They decided to take the Impala and Dean drove them with Castiel in the passenger seat and Sam in the backseat. On the drive over, Sam and Castiel discussed the pricing of the house, with Sam telling him the place was overpriced for the market and parts of it needed work.
“What kind of work?” asked Dean, with interest.
“Not sure entirely,” said Sam. “I haven’t shown it before. It’s only been on the market for a couple of days. Turn here.”
Dean turned down the dirt road and they drove past several vineyards until they finally reached the house in the listing. Like the description, it sat on a large piece of land. The driveway was unpaved and the two-storey home with the wraparound porch and gabled roof looked even better than it had in the pictures. There were several outbuildings on the property, including a small barn, a large shed, and of course, the four car garage with an apartment on top of it.
It was also very nice and quiet when the car came to a halt and they stepped outside. Dean saw Castiel smile softly as he looked around, blue eyes gleaming with interest.
While he was looking at it, Dean frowned slightly. For some reason, the house seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he didn’t know why.
“It’s quite peaceful out here,” remarked Castiel.
“Yes, the nearest neighbour is half a mile across the dirt road,” said Sam, pointing out the farmhouse that accompanied the vineyards they’d driven past. He led the way up the porch, and Dean observed that the exterior of the house seemed to be in good condition, including the cosmetic aspects. Whoever the seller was, they had maintained the property well.
The interior was less polished, but the rooms were large and spacious, with large, decorative shuttered windows, befitting a country-style home. The living room had a woodfire fireplace in pretty good condition, and though the interior paint colour was a bit drab, it was an easy fix.
The master suite on the second storey was massive with a large ensuite that had a claw tub, though no shower, as well as a walk-in closet. The other bedrooms were smaller, but still a good size, and only a few of the bathrooms had showers, with most of them having baths. Dean also picked out some water damage on the ceiling of some of the bathrooms, no doubt because there were no exhaust fans in those bathrooms.
The attic was fine - it was structurally sound but empty for the moment.
The kitchen was disappointing, because for some reason, the previous owner had decided to separate out the kitchen and dining area instead of leaving it as a big country kitchen, and Dean assessed the wall critically, knowing it would be pretty easy to knock down to really bring back that authentic element to it. The cabinetry would also need to be replaced, but the end effect would be much better than what it currently was.
“So, what do you think?” asked Sam, looking at Castiel expectantly, once they had looked at the entire property and returned to the kitchen.
“It’s nice,” nodded Castiel. “What do you think, Dean?”
Dean, who had been frowning at the kitchen stove because once again it looked familiar, blinked and turned to Castiel. “You want my opinion?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes,” said Castiel, simply.
“I like it,” said Dean. “The house has good bones. The exterior is in great shape, and some of the inside needs work, but if Sammy’s right about the pricing, it leaves you with a nice budget for a good renovation to fix the parts you don’t like.”
Castiel smiled softly, blue eyes melting as they looked at Dean. “Okay,” he said, before turning to Sam. “Let’s talk about an offer.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Great,” he said, opening the portfolio and pulling out some forms. “Given the water damage Dean pointed out, I would definitely advise a full inspection…”
Dean left Sam and Castiel to it, and wandered around the kitchen, staring at the stove, and his eyes widened as he finally realised why the house seemed familiar.
“I recognise this,” said Dean.
“You do?” asked Castiel, and Dean turned around to look at him.
“The family who lived here mysteriously vanished, four years ago,” said Dean.
Sam’s eyes widened and he went back to look at the paperwork. “If a crime was committed here, the listing agent should have disclosed it,” he said, disapprovingly.
“No actual crime happened here,” said Dean. “The family went out to dinner one evening and never returned. Cops speculated they must have driven off the road and died.”
“What do you know of the family?” asked Castiel, curiously.
“Only what I read in the papers,” said Dean. “Gordon and Erica Walker lived here with their teenage daughter, Faith, and Erica’s mother. This is the Walker house.”
“No, the owner’s last name is Farnham,” said Sam.
“That was the grandmother,” said Dean. “She was the one to report the family missing, the only one who didn’t go to dinner that night. That’s why I know this kitchen. The newspaper article had a picture of her standing by this stove.”
“If she is listing the property for sale, perhaps the family has been found,” said Castiel.
“Yeah, maybe,” nodded Dean.
“Castiel,” said Sam. “I understand if you maybe want to rethink the offer, given what we know now…”
Castiel hummed contemplatively and looked at Dean. Dean was surprised to realise that Castiel was waiting for his opinion, and it made him want to blush. They hadn’t even been on a first date yet, but Castiel was making it abundantly clear that Dean’s opinion was welcome, preferred, even. It made warmth rise in Dean’s chest, made him want to do something stupid like kiss Castiel senseless, even if his brother was in the same room.
He thought about the house, about that porch where they could put a swing, about the large master bedroom, about the privacy and the quiet, and Dean felt himself smile softly.
“I think the house is beautiful,” said Dean.
Castiel’s eyes softened impossibly and he nodded as he turned back to Sam. “Let’s make an offer.”