#I did not expect this cheap sketch book to behave so well either

[tallemy]

Bunlan ft coffee as paint!

[hekate1308]

Home Base

Part of my Season 12 Destiel AU. Enjoy!

To say his life has significantly improved, Dean things waking up next to Cas one morning, would be an understatement.

He smiles and snuggles closer to his boyfriend – no harm in morning cuddles – when he suddenly realizes things feel... off.

Not bad. Just... off.

And as soon as he raises his head, he knows why.

This is not the cheap motel room they went to sleep in.

The furniture is way too expensive, it’s light and airy, and is that a freaking lake he can see outside?

He sits up abruptly, causing Cas to grumble in protest.

“Cas – wake up!”

His lover shoots up from the bed, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings.

“This is not our room” he states.

Dean nods as he calls Sam.

Despite everything, he smiles when he hears his brother sleepily grumble “Dean?” The little nerd likes to sleep in these days, too.

Sam immediately becomes more aware.

“What – where are we?”

“So I take it you’re not at the motel anymore either.”

“No, I – is that a lake?”

“My thoughts exactly” Dean breathes.

“We seem to be in the same house” Cas says, having stepped up to him to listen to their conversation.

That’s something, at least.

“Alright Sammy, best we try and find each other.”

“My duffle bag’s here” Sam tells him.

“Ours are too” Cas points out.

They’re not without weapons then. Good.

They arm themselves with guns and silver knives before exiting the room they found themselves in.

Dean almost takes a step back in surprise when the door next to theirs opens and Sam comes out, looking as good as he did yesterday.

“Gotta say, if this is some evil scheme, it’s starting off really nicely.”

“We do not appear to have been drugged” Cas muses. “So whatever brought us here, they must be strong.”

He nods.

Their best way to search this place quickly – how huge is it, anyway? The corridors go on forever – is to split up, despite his ingrained instincts not to let his little brother or anyone else he loves out of his isght.

“Be careful” he instructs them both, pressing a quick kiss on Cas’ lips and clasping Sam’s shoulder before ducking into the next corridors.

Stairs. Taht’s something, at least.

He makes his way downstairs.

And this, right there? It’s a freaking entrance hall with marble.

It all looks nice enough, he supposes. Expensive. Like someone wanted to show off and be comfortable at the same time.

He hears movement in a room to his right and makes his way there, weapon ready.

What he didn’t expect was Crowley sitting in another huge room next to a pool table, leafing through a book while sipping his usual glass of Craig.

“Crowley?”

He looks up.

“Squirell. How do you like the new home base?”

“Home base? Where are we?”

“Massachusetts.”

“Why?”

Crowley shrugs.

“As good a place as any.”

“So and this is...”

“Like I said – new home base. You let me deal with the more psychopathic of the British invasion army, and it was certainly a lot of fun” Dean probably shouldn’t enjoy hearing that as much as he does, but Ketch has done nothing to incite his sympathy or pity in any way, shape or form, and he can’t bring himself to worry much about it “but it also means their little club is up in arms, so I thought you might want to have safe quarters.”

“So you... built us a mansion.”

“There was a dilapidated structure that might once have been a house. I only added to it.”

Dean takes out his phone and sends Sam and Cas texts to join them.

They both arrive quickly, Cas a bit quicker than his brother.

“Aw, Cassie, don’t worry, your toy boy is as safe as ever.”

He shoots him a somewhat disgruntled look that’s still not without a certain fondness – that’s how crazy their life has gotten, and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Have you seen the library yet?” Crowely asks Dean just as Sam stumbles in.

“Nah. Good stuff?”

“Remember when you powered down the wards of the bunker so I could get in while we were dealing with Amara?”

He does. And he also remembers not putting them up again because – well because even back then, he and Crowley were barely enemies.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for that. I made sure to get anything the Men of Letters could use.”

“Thank you” he says honestly.

“I also made sure you had your beloved “memory foam” in case you felt like complaining about your back again – and your personal effects are in boxes in the dining room.”

Oh. He hasn’t thought about the things he used to decorate his room with in months. Sounds nice, though; Cas can get some stuff of his own, too –

Sam clears his throat.

“Do you have your own room?”

It occurs to Dean that he just thought of that as a given. Crowley hates Hell, and now that Lucifer has been dealt with, he has even less of a reason to hang out there, apart from short visits to make sure the demons are still behaving.

But for Sam to ask – that’s actually a pretty big step, now that he thinks about it.

Cas’ hand slips into his.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Now, in case you have – “

“Good.”

It’s the first time he’s seen Crowley speechless since Cain literally took his voice away.

They spent the rest of the day exploring their new home. Give it to Crowley, he really thought of everything, and it’s all brand new, nothing outdated like in the bunker.

There’s even a garage for his baby – next to the dungeon because, well, it’s Crowley. Nice he even included that in the first place considering their history with it.

As Dean and Cas soon find out, the water pressure in the showers is fantastic.

Plus, Crowley hasn’t just filled the library with the lore of their ancestors, but several works they love – at first glance, Dean sees the complete works of Vonnegut and Asimov. Jackpot.

And, okay, maybe Jane Austen is there too. Damn demon knows him too well.

And that kitchen.

“We’re going to have pancakes every day from now on” he announces, looking over the new equipment.

“Dean” Sam interjects.

“Alright, you can get some omelette with spinach. Figure I can do that if I try.”

His brother shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“Where’s Cas anyway?” he asks. “Did he need some rest after your...”

“Shower?” Dean prompts with a grin.

“Yes. That.”

But once again, there’s no fire nor true annoyance behind Sam’s words, as there might have been, once not too long ago.

As Dean walks back to his and Cas’ room – funny, back when he only allowed himself to dream of them in half-slumbers shortly before waking up at dawn, he often pictured them in his room in the bunker – Crowley appears in front of him.  

Naturally, we are still too important to walk.

“I wasn’t sure if I should put these in your boxes as well” he says, holding out a few pictures.

Dean knows them. The ones he left behind the day he turned his back on the bunker and their legacy, preferring to make his own path.

Their own path.

After reconsidering the pictures, he takes those of him and Sam.

“That’s all I need”.

Crowley understands and vanishes with the rest.

Idly, Dean wonders what Mary is thinking now, in the empty bunker. She might not have noticed their absence much, but the knowledge and weapons the Men of Letters collected is valuable.

He’s not worried about them investigating the theft. Crowley certainly left no traces.

He expects to find Cas napping, but instead he’s –

He’s painting their walls.

There is already a whole forest stretching itself towards the lake, green leaves shining, sun kissing small flowers underneath –

“Cas” he breathes.

He knew Cas likes to draw, of course. Ever since Cas fell, he’s liked to have something to do with his fingers (in moments when they aren’t... otherwise occupied, that is) and it was Dean who bought himk his first notebook. Things only spiralled from there.

Cas has sketched almost everyone they knew at this point and once made him sit completely still for a whole evening because “I need to find the right shade of green for your eyes in that angle.”

“Dean!” he stands up so quickly Dean cringes in sympathy for his spine.

“I – this – I wanted to surprise you.” He fiddles his fingers in the late afternoon light coming in from the windows, his arms covered in paint, and Dean has never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it? I freaking love it, man.”

He draws Cas into a deep kiss.

“Wait – You’ll get dirty – “

“You’ll have to clean me up, then” he whispers huskily.

“Why so much green?” he asks later, much later. He thinks it will be time for dinner soon, but he can’t be sure.

Cas is tracing patterns up and down his chest and he’s way too comfortable to move and find out.

“You know why.”

“Yeah” he says, blushing, “but why so little blue? Come on, this is our room...”

“You haven’t seen it, then?”

Dean frowns and looks at the forest again.

And he sees.

There’s blue everywhere, stronger and lighter shade mixed in with the green, until it becomes impossible to say which is which.

The message is pretty clear.

He attempts to pull Cas even closer. At the moment, he couldn’t care less about the Men of Letters.

When they enter the kitchen at eight pm, Crowley exclaims, “A miracle! We might get dinner after all.”

“You don’t need to it” Cas reminds him while Dean tells Sam, “You could have started dinner.”

“Your cooking is much better than mine” Sam says. “Always has been.”

Dean remembers another occasion, when Sam was surprised he even knew what a kitchen was, but dismisses the thought.

They have both changed a lot since then.

“Alright”.

Crowley has stocked the fridge full to the brim.

“What do you – “

“Burgers” Cas says immediately.

“Alright then, burgers with salad it is.”

Crowley groans.

“You like Dean’s burgers” Cas reminds him.

Crowley grumbles something that sounds like “Doesn’t mean I have to eat them every day” but still digs in once dinner is done.

“So you’re saying it’s shielded like the bunker too?” Dean asks while they’re eating.

“No one will be able to tell where you are calling from while you’re here.”

Sam’s text alert rings out.

Dean’s surprised this didn’t happen earlier.

“What does she want?”

“Are you behind this?” Sam reads out loud.

“Tell her it’s the demon she despises so much” Crowley says. “I’m sure Mummy would love to hear that.”

“I don’t answer her texts anymore. She knows that.”

Sam puts his phone away.

“She’ll have to find another way if she wants to keep manipulating me.”

He’s never called it that, before.

Dean, he knows now, actually suspected pretty early on something was wrong, only that he didn’tb want to admit it to himself.

At least now they’re all on the same page.

Mary sends another text.

Only this time, when Sam reads it, he blanches.

Then, with a blank expression on his face, he throws his phone against the wall.

“Sammy?”

“That wall is brand new, you know” Crowley remarks mildly, but his hand has tensed around his glass.

“I’ll need a new phone” his brother says. “And we’ll have to tell our friends.”

“Yeah, of course. Sam, are you okay?”

“Yes. Mo – Mary just said something about – you, that’s all.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t want to repeat it” is all Sam says.

“Good” Crowley comments.

Dean swallows. Knowing that Mary accused him of something – that she probably sounded like John – and that Sam would react this way – it has to have been bad –

And then Cas draws him close and kisses his forehead.

He relaxes.

He has Cas, he has his family, he has a new home.

Everything else can wait until tomorrow.