Archive of Our Own

A Day in the Life
By Anne Higgins

Then

The universe really loved messing with Dean Winchester. Fact of life like the sun rising and setting, and a hell of a lot more reliable than that old saw about death and taxes. Because Dean's been there, done that, got better more than once on the former and never paid the latter until ten years ago. Which was when the world ended. Sort of.

All catchy quotes aside about bangs or whimpers, the word whimper really had turned out to be something of an exaggeration. Global warming had done far worse things to the weather. The plagues hadn't gotten off the ground due to some fast work by the Winchester brothers and two rogue angels. And Death never had gotten to climb up on his pale horse or whatever snazzy car substitute he might have favored. Again thanks to the hard work of Team Free Will (plus Gabriel, because Dean refused to grant him official status.)

Lucifer had been all set to raise Death by sacrificing every living soul in Bobby Singer's hometown of Sioux Falls (or as Dean always referred to it – North Mayberry.) So six weeks after Lucy had made his first appearance, every last man, woman and child – including Bobby -- had felt compelled to march out to St. Anthony's grave yard and line up with less protest than stock being herded into a slaughter house.

Angel express courtesy of Gabriel had gotten Castiel, Sam and Dean there before the ritual began, but the unexpected timing had left them short of much of a plan. Basically it had boiled down to Sam shouting 'Hey there, you wanted me' (and no, they hadn't figured out a better way to put it) to Lucy, then Castiel, Gabriel and Dean (with angelic assist) were all going to pop up next to the distracted (yeah, right) devil and let him have it with the angel-killing swords. And who knows, it might have worked. Except Michael had decided to crash the party wearing an Adam suit. While it might not do much for life expectancy to know a Winchester, being one really sucked most of the time, and apparently getting killed to trap Dean and Sam hadn't been enough cosmic payback for daring to share a father with them to punish Adam. So Mikey had apparently resurrected the kid and slithered on inside because he didn't need Dean to fight Lucy while Lucy was wearing a Nick-suit instead of Sam.

Whining about his destiny not being thwarted, Mikey had tried to smite the four of them, but Gabriel had whisked them over to the sidelines where everyone had just come around to find themselves ringside at the Apocalypse.

The two archangels had begun shouting at each other in what Dean could have sworn sounded a lot like a 'I know you are but what am I' tantrum. And apparently an epic bitchfest had been enough to make Dad show up wearing Chuck Shurley's body and a classic 'I told you not to make me stop the car' face.

God had started shouting at them, about groundings for the next six eternities and being too old for this shit. Somewhere along the line He had grabbed hold of earlobes and Gabriel had manifested popcorn and cushy seats for everyone. And seriously it had all reminded Dean a heck of a lot of that time Sam had pitched a fit and kicked one of the Impala's tires hard enough to dent the hubcap. Then again, God could probably have learned a few things from the wrath of John Winchester, because trying to start an apocalypse did not come close to desecrating a dude's car.

And then … well, then God had hauled their quarreling backsides off the planet without so much as a 'sorry about the inconvenience, dudes.' Which had left Team Free Will (plus one) holding an epic-sized bag of 'the buck stops here' manure.

Dean had glowered at the heavens and shouted an indignant, "That's it?" and pretty much everyone but the four of them plus Bobby had fainted. Seriously cut into a dude's ranting time, but Dean had snapped at Gabriel to knock it off with the chocolate already and make with the smelling salts, and well, somehow by the time they'd gotten everyone on their feet and back home, they had apparently gotten the impression that Dean and Cas were sort of in charge.

Okay, so it wasn't that big of a mystery. Gabriel had been too bemused by things to do anything on his own – pity that had changed over the years; and Sammy had sort of collapsed into a puddle of chick-flick goo over the world not ending because he'd listened to a hot demon chick instead of his older brother; and Bobby had kind of gotten caught up in the whole 'hey, my legs work again!' side effect of Lucy's attempted takeover. So cool on that front, but he hadn't been much help at the time. That had left things up to Dean and Cas.

The next morning half of Sioux Falls, including the town leaders and the sheriff's department, got big time religion and had resigned to start construction on a mammoth combination monastery-convent – Dean could swear he'd seen a porno flick like that once – and vowed to devote their lives to God, while the rest had found themselves expected to go on with life knowing far too many truths. So it had been on with the Dean and Cas Show all while Dean had kept pitching a fit heavenward about all the 'time to come home' calls to Cas from Father.

No. Way. Cas was staying with Dean even if Gabriel, the blasted Daddy's boy, had run off home at the first 'all is forgiven' notice. Shit, God might have been ready to forgive, but Dean had more than a few bones to pick. And maybe he'd voiced them a little too loudly for a little too long because all of a sudden he'd found himself nose-to-Nose with notChuck. Before he could do something to get himself smote by the Big Guy (even if He was wearing an alcoholic nerd) God had announced Castiel could stay. But there were conditions.

Dean hadn't quite recovered from the conditions when the town had offered him and Cas jobs. Sam had whined about wanting to settle down and could they please, please just stay. Bobby had looked kind of pleased at the idea of having them around. The townspeople had looked like they might kill themselves if they lost the two of them. And, yeah, Cas, the bitch, had pointed out it would make one of those 'conditions' easier to deal with, so what the fuck. Dean had said yes.

And somehow even after all of that the universe still never seemed to tire of fucking with him.

Now

Lips gently nuzzling his neck pulled Dean from the last remnants of sleep. He opened his eyes to see his favorite thing in the whole world – Cas smiling at him.

"Good morning, my love," his angel said, then pressed his lips to Dean's.

The mouth scum and sweat of the previous day vanished beneath the same mojo Cas used to keep himself all squeaky clean – cut way down on the water bill and totally zapped morning breath so it was all good … and was a lot more fun than a toothbrush.

Dean gave himself over to the kiss and the arms wrapping around him. He was such a slut for Cas. Had been since the angel had first walked into that barn, and Bobby didn't even want to know what had gone on besides the stabbing and yelling and exposition shit. Apparently that hadn't even been their first time as Cas had gotten all intimate with his soul before putting it back in its Dean-sized container. So yeah, love at first sight, and he so preferred 'slut' to that emo-romantic fairy tale crap, but as long as he got Cas, he could let it go.

"Hey," he murmured when the kiss ended, his legs shifting to wrap around Cas' hips. "Missed you."

Cas smiled again. "You saw me before you went to sleep."

"But you didn't share a dream with me," Dean pouted. Not an easy task given the hand running down his torso and over his abs – his nice and taunt abs, thank you very much, because it had been a real bitch to lose those last five pounds – but he managed. He was talented like that.

A sorrowful, yet playful look crossed his husband's face. Ten years out and Dean still had to smile at being able to think of Cas like that. His husband. The town had insisted on it. Had said okay, fine to the gay stuff, but no way would they put up with the sheriff and mayor living in sin. All of this after they'd said they didn't care which of them did which job, proving they were out of their minds because Dean was so not a politician, but if it got him a ring and a few forever and ever promises from his angel, then he wasn't going to complain. "I am sorry, Dean, but I was so entranced by watching you sleep that I could not bear to stop."

Despite the teasing tone, he knew Cas was kind of serious and it made Dean blush a little. And how weird was it that while other people couldn't sleep when being stared at, Dean couldn't sleep without Cas' baby blues boring into him?

Dean shifted enough to brush his morning erection against Cas' abdomen – as flat as his, but without the challenges to keep it that way. "I can think of a way for you to make it up to me."

"Hmm, perhaps I should worry about spoiling you too much," Cas teased, but his cock brushed against Dean's hole so that was okay.

"If you do, you can spank me to get me back in line," he promised, then hissed with pleasure as Cas began to push into him. Gotta love angel-mojo. Best lube in the universe.

"Hmm," this time the sound was less teasing and more non-committal. Always was whenever the 's' word came up, but Dean could be a persistent bitch when he wanted something and the idea was way too hot to let go of. "We'll see."

Dean scowled. 1) That was far from agreement, and 2) his desire for kinky sex games did not warrant the same response as the kids' demands to go to the fucking zoo! And he would have said so, except Cas' balls came to rest against his ass and Dean always lost his train of thought when his angel was fully inside him.

Cas leaned down to kiss him again, his hips started to move and … Both their cells began ringing, the baby started crying and their daughter whined from the other side of the door, "Daddy, I'm hungry."

Shit.

*

Dean got out of his patrol car and stalked over to his chief deputy and cock-blocking brother. Who, okay, did look a little in over his head. Sam was currently at the center of a swarm of frantic monks and nuns all wailing and making wild arm gestures. "All right, all right, where's the freaking fire?" Dean demanded, not above flashing his brother a smirk at the way the crowd parted for him.

Sam gave him bitchface number 16 – 'whatever' – and pointed toward the nearest brick wall.

Okay. So it was a wall. "What?"

"It's not made out of brick anymore."

Not brick? What the --? He moved to take a closer look and caught the scent that reminded him of Christmas. "Gingerbread."

"Beams are giant candy canes."

"Of course they are." Freaking Hell. Dean glared upward and bellowed, "Gabriel, get your feathery ass down here!"

"You called, bro-in-law?"

"Change. It. Back."

"You're no fun, Deano," he answered, but snapped his fingers and turned sweets back into brick and mortar. Everyone, except Sam who knew better, gaped at his awesome ability to control a freaking archangel. Control. Gabriel. As if. The fucker delighted in driving Dean batshit and something this showy had been a blatant 'may I have your attention' round in something destined to give Dean a very special headache. He called them Gabriels – after the douche who inspired them.

"What do you want this time?" he asked once they no longer had to worry about hungry, lost kids in lederhosen devouring the place.

"It's Cas' birthday and I wanted to drop off his present," he said snapping up a box shaped like a loaf pan.

Every freaking Thursday. … Dean sighed and took the damned thing because experience had taught him if he didn't it would pop up every where he went. "And you couldn't give it to him because …?" He knew asking came under the heading of walking right into the trap, but come on, sometimes a guy had to sack up and endure.

"Oh, it's something you wear for him. Like the lemon-drop flavored-"

"Hey!" Dean snapped, blushing more at the memory of Cas licking the candy cock ring off of him, than at Gabe's antics. Mostly.

Gabe smirked, then popped the lid off and Sam went from concerned to fast retreat in two seconds flat. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother because the dude could face down wendigos, but he ran from small chocolate dildos? "Shove this into place, let it melt and … well, I think Cas'll figure out the rest."

Now there was a mental picture to aggravate a frustrated libido. "Fine. Thanks. Anything else?"

"Not for now," Gabe gave him a big, wet kiss on the cheek, then vanished.

"Terrific," he muttered heading back to his lame government-issued vehicle and his traumatized brother.

"My eyes, my eyes," Sam whimpered.

Seriously? He had Gabe in full prank-mode to deal with and this was all the bitch had to offer? They did not pay him enough for this shit.

*

Dean was halfway to the station when the text message alert sounded from his cell. He took a quick glance, cursed and made a fast right to get back to Main Street. Fucking Hell, all he needed this morning was another damned '666' from Anna.

After God/Chuck/Whatever had sent Mike and Lucy to bed without any supper, He'd resurrected the angels killed during the war. Happily this meant Anna was alive again. But so were some real dicks. Like Uriel. Joy. And to make things really special, God had announced penance must be served. And somehow Dean's town had ended up serving as probation officer to every angel and demon God thought needed a time out. Awesome. Sometimes Dean had the feeling God had kept up Chuck's love affair with the hard stuff.

At least Anna was around to help out. She sort of fell into a gray category. God hadn't minded she'd rebelled – Castiel was totally Daddy's favorite right now -- so much as she'd split without trying to change things. Even then, she'd done enough before Zac's goon squad hauled her away to earn a free pass on any punishments. But she wasn't exactly in Dad's good graces either. So she'd opted to work here versus hang around in Heaven. Thank Whatever.

Sam's patrol car was already parked outside of Heavenly Hangout when Dean pulled up. Chuckles must have called the station since Anna knew better than to involve anyone else, but Dean hadn't quite reached the point where he'd told his station manager not to respond to any calls. Poor judgment on Dean's part. Sammy plus Uriel plus an emergency call always equaled an even more massive headache than a Gabriel. Shit.

A Chuckles Special already warming up behind his eyes, Dean got out of his vehicle and stalked inside the most poorly named place in existence (even if it did have the best coffee in the universe – it had those stupid coffee-wannabe drinks, too.) Unless a guy knew enough to get the irony. Unfortunately, Dean did.

As expected he walked into a pissing match between Uriel and Sam while what Dean guessed must be the source cowered behind Anna. Brad Peters. High School quarterback and all around jock. Currently doing his best imitation of a quivering mass of goo. "What the fuck is going on?" Dean demanded making everyone jump and Brad squeal like a little bitch.

"That abomination needs to be sent back to Hell!" Uriel shouted. Big surprise. Sort of the dick's theme song.

"No way!" Sam shouted back. Ditto. "No way I'm letting you touch him!"

Dean leveled his best glower at both of them. Not that it made an impression. They were too busy staring each other down. Damn, Dean. Did. Not. Get. Paid. Enough. For. This. Shit. "Knock it the fuck off!" he snapped in his best sheriff-big-brother-Righteous-Man voice.

They might hate it, but both stopped glaring at each other and turned their steely little gazes on Dean. He snorted, far from impressed, and pointed to two chairs on opposite ends of the room. "Sit. Now."

Sulking, both obeyed and Dean rolled his eyes. Surrounded by fucking two-year-olds. Speaking of which, the peanut gallery temporarily dealt with, he glowered at the pile of goo. "Identify yourself."

'Brad' sniffled, because he'd either had a breakdown or … "Larry Jelks, sir."

Super. Larry was one of the youngest demons on parole. He'd made a deal to get rid of his father. Stuff of damnation even without the demonic shit, but the catch was Larry's father used to get off on physically abusing the poor kid, up to and including sexually. So yeah, parole. Except the dude who had agreed to do the hosting wasn't Brad. They did not make Tylenol strong enough to deal with this shit. "Any good reason for jumping ship?"

More sniffing. "He's been bullying Eugene."

Dean sighed. Larry was seven years old. Or 965 Hell Mean Time, but Hell wasn't exactly a great place to learn social skills. So Eugene Wilson had been a good choice of host. The kid was a freshman, mature for his age, but not big enough to be used as a weapon to act out over past traumas – God-Chuck had at least stayed sober enough to defang the demon and angel mojo of any non-Cas resident – and it wasn't total possession like the bad dudes pulled. More of a co-existence with the human host tutoring and watching over the demon. Eugene actually got community service extra credit in school for doing the job. "Next time, come straight to me." Technically, parolees were supposed to go to Uriel or Anna (but Uriel was never out of hearing range), but the dick wasn't exactly welcoming. "Understand?"

Larry-Brad nodded, hugged him, then brown smoke roiled out of the quarterback, through the front door and off to reconnect with Eugene. And wait for it. …

"Blasphemy!" Uriel shrieked, leaping to his feet. "You defy God's law!"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Gonna wear it out one of these days. "Do you ever get tired of being such a fucking predictable douchebag?"

The vein in Uriel's forehead pulsed rapidly and Dean figured the dick would have had a stroke long ago if Daddy hadn't left the angel healing powers in place when he neutered the rest. "Mud-monkey –"

"That's Sheriff Mud-monkey to you, Chuckles," he said, his own voice steel. "And if your Old Man doesn't like the way I do things, He can get His ass on down here and tell me." And it would be really fucking great if Uriel started learning some of that compassion and humility God had set as the conditions of his 'parole.' Neither seemed likely.

"I will-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Do what you want already. Just shut up about it." He turned on his all too smug looking brother. "And you, outside."

"Hey! What did I do?" Sam demanded.

Dean seriously did not have the time to make out that list, so he settled for a glare. "Out. Side." Hey, Dean got that Uriel was a pain in the ass, but Sam always went all holier-than-thou instead of handling things, which made it harder for Dean to deal. Not quite fair since if Sam didn't act up forcing him into wiser-older-brother mode, Dean would probably be doing the provoking, but hey, he had a headache on top of blue-balls. Didn't make him all sweetness and light.

He vented most of his irritation on the jerkwad of a quarterback, promising him if he even looked at another kid sidewise Dean would castrate him. Slowly. With a dull knife. By the time he was done, Dean had cooled off and Brad had all but passed out. Satisfied, Dean sent him on his way.

He sighed, then looked at Anna. "Add another year to Larry's probation."

She sighed, too. "I was thinking two."

"Yeah, okay." He hated it, but the kid obviously needed more time to get his head wrapped around making better choices. Not that Dean didn't think Brad had deserved it. And more. But Larry had still reacted like a demon and the pearly gates stayed barred until he went the little kid route. Even if it was a hell of a lot less satisfying.

Crap. He went outside, collected his sulking baby brother and made the bitch buy him some coffee.

*

Fences mended with a good shot of caffeine and a round of bitch-jerk, they finally made it back to the station around eleven. "Morning, beautiful," Dean greeted Andrea as they walked in. Shortly after Dean and Sam had settled down, more than a few of the people they'd helped had moved to town – Andrea Barr, her son, Lucas, and Jerry Panowski among them. Knowing talent when he saw it, he'd hired the woman to manage the station and had never once regretted it. Cas had decided Jerry fit a similar need in Town Hall, and they got front row seats at the Barr-Panowski wedding since they'd played matchmaker between their two managers.

"Morning, Dean, Sam," She returned the greeting with her usual humor-Dean smile. "You have visitors."

"We do?"

"Mommy!" With a high-pitched squeal a small blonde tornado launched herself across the room toward them.

Dean had just enough time before impact to turn so she hit his thigh instead of something more memorable. He still grunted, when she face-planted against him. "Mary Deanna Winchester, how many times have I told you not to jump on people?"

Unfazed by even the force of a full-name scolding, Mary Dee giggled. "You're not people, you're mommy."

Next to him, Sam snickered, as ever amused by getting everyone to refer to him as a mother since about five seconds after Dean had made the announcement that God had called in his 'conditions marker' and he was pregnant with Cas' kid and did the town council want his resignation? It said a lot about the lives they'd led that while almost everyone else was sitting there with their jaws dropped, Sam had sniggered.

What?

Dude, you're gonna be a mom.

Dad. I'm gonna be a dad.

No, Cas is gonna be a dad. Person who has the baby is the mother. Not my fault the other 3 billion plus who can do it are women. Kind of sucks for you though. Mom.

Fuck.

Well, she might be two kids behind, but Jo was gonna pop any day now, and Dean would have his revenge. For every 'mommy,' for every loud, obnoxious toy proudly presented and for every time the asshole had crossed his legs and looked pained when Dean had to explain he had a few additional parts -- Sam. Would. Pay. Yep, for all those offenses and more he had his minions – one of the cool perks of being sheriff was that he had those – seeking out the most irritating baby toys on the planet.

He hoisted the five-year-old up into his arms, and gave her the sort of loud smacking kiss on the cheek she loved. "Why aren't you in school, princess?"

She gave him a disapproving scowl worthy of her uncle Sammy. "We're on break."

"Again?" Damn it, he was never going to get used to this year-round calendar stuff. "Hmm, guess it's a good thing Daddy keeps track of these things." To no one's real surprise, least of all Dean's, Cas had lived up to his holy tax accountant image and turned out to be the most organized freak Dean had ever met.

She nodded, then gave him an even deeper scowl. "You didn't eat breakfast with me."

"I'm sorry. I had to work."

Having given her … mother, and fuck, Sam was so going to pay that he even had Dean doing it, a proper greeting/guilt trip, she squealed, "Uncle Sammy!" and threw herself from Dean's arms toward Sam.

Well-practiced, Sam caught her with ease. He smiled at her, gave her a kiss of his own, then the bastard had the nerve to shoot him a glare for Dean getting her to call him Sammy instead of Sam. Payback hadn't even started to bitch things up, Dude. "Where's your Aunt Jo, pumpkin?"

"She's feeding Johnny."

"Damn," Dean muttered and ran for the day care center nestled all safe and sound in the middle of the building. If she got the bottle into his son before Dean got there, he'd have to use the breast pump, and he was so not in the mood.

Fortunately, one of the other kids must have slowed her down, because he came skidding into the room just as she was getting the bottle out of the refrigerator. "I'm here!" he announced, reaching for the baby nestled in the bright blue sling around her shoulder.

Jo Harvelle-Winchester laughed and helped shift her load to him.

"Yuck it up, sweetheart," he said, getting the sling and Jonathan Samuel settled against him. He couldn't help be glad that Sam and Jo had waited until after Dean's kids had a lock on honoring parents and grandparents. Sam had told them that they were going to name their kid after Bobby. He eyed his sister-in-law's swollen belly. "Couple of weeks tops and you'll be the one juggling the baby and the breast pump."

"Bet the first few weeks I'll be too grateful to get him on the outside to care."

"More like too exhausted," he muttered. At five-months, Johnny had almost outgrown the sling and would need the larger orange one they had in storage. Nice healthy growth rate, but Dean would miss this sling – it matched the color of Cas' eyes.

"Way to reassure a gal, jerk," she said, dropping her voice on the final insult given their surroundings, but still using it. That's what he liked about Jo, she often liked to play with the same general lack of polish he did. And it wasn't like anyone could kick her out – she was the sheriff's sister-in-law and his lieutenant's wife. Kind of made her immune to prosecution. Besides, she didn't work here. She just liked hanging out with Dean's kids between the morning and afternoon sessions of her Mommy and Me yoga classes.

Jo taught them (along with self-defense classes when she was a little less round). And Dean didn't care what Sam said, an ex-hunter teaching yoga was a lot weirder than Dean getting it on with an angel.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, muttered, "Later," then headed toward his office. His cell rang on the way. A nice professional ring per his standing in the community. Boring, but sometimes a guy had to go through the motions. He pulled it off his belt, then smiled at the caller ID listing of 'heavenly hunk.'

"Hi, handsome," he greeted his husband.

"Good morning again, darling," Castiel answered, in that soft low voice of his that made Dean's toes want to curl and curl. "You ran out before I could finish saying it."

"Tell me about it," Dean grumbled, and Cas laughed -- a sound which never failed to make Dean all … tingly. Crap, he'd been watching too many of Mary Dee's movies.

"I'm afraid I'm calling to say I can't make it to lunch," He said. Before Dean could do some definitely not whining, he added, "Apparently I have an angry representative of Heaven requiring my attention."

Uriel. Fucking bitch.

"You wouldn't happen to know what that's all about?"

"I … might."

"Sweetheart, you really need to stop angering Uriel. He's developing some sort of blood pressure problem."

Oh, that was so not fair! "Tell him to stop pissing me off!

"I always do."

"Sorry. Really."

"I know. His attitude has always irritated me, too. Especially in regards to you."

"Love you, Feathers," he said, moving into the relative privacy of his office. "Show you how much tonight, okay?"

"I'll look forward to it. Until later, my love."

"Bye," he hung up and scowled at the empty room. Damn, he needed to learn to control his mouth and his temper, but both had been going strong for more than forty years. He sighed. Good thing he had a husband with the patience of what a saint aspired to. Most of the time.

Mary Dee skipped up as he was getting settled on the sofa. "Uncle Sammy went to get some lunch," she told him. "Can we watch Tangled while we eat?"

"Again?" he moaned. Must have seen the thing a billion times, although if he talked her out of it, she would only chose yet another princess-laden flick. Jo had already taught her the basics of fighting, and she could kick butt figuratively and literally on the playground, but she did it wearing pink Cinderella t-shirts and sparkly, purple Jasmine sneakers. How had he managed to raise such a girl?

"Please, Mommy?" she turned his own eyes on him and he caved. He always did.

"Fine," he sighed, "but Daddy can't make it to lunch, so you'll need to go to his office later or he'll feel left out.

"Okay!" she agreed happily and set about getting her movie started. Took her forever to learn how to tie her shoes, but she'd gotten the remote thing down fast. All about the priorities, Cas had laughed.

His son whimpered, reminding him he'd interrupted lunch. "Sorry." He got his shirt unbuttoned and pushed to one side. "Fucking Hell, Johnny, take it easy," he yelped at his son's overly enthusiastic attack on Dean's nipple. "That's attached." Oh, well, at least God had got the works flowing without making him grow actual breasts. Thank Whoever for small favors.

"Daddy doesn't like it when you say things like that," Mary Dee said, curling up against his side.

He scowled at his daughter, also know as The Informer. "So don't tell him."

She giggled as if it were the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Great. Then again, maybe she'd tell him and Mommy could finally get Daddy to spank him. Dean could swear it had been easier fighting the Apocalypse than getting his angel in touch with his inner kink. He glanced down at the sunlight bright head and decided maybe now was not the time for such thoughts. Probably shouldn't go with sorry, Mommy's cranky because he didn't get his morning fuck, either. He sighed and resorted to the same chicken shit excuse every parent resorted to. "Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't get my morning coffee."

"You sure like coffee."

She had no idea. "Watch your movie, kid."

She grinned, then happily went off to Disney Princess Land. Sam came in with a sack of burgers about half way through and watched the rest of the movie with them while they ate. Afterwards, Sam insisted on taking Mary Dee to see Cas. "I know how anxious you are to get to work," he smirked and nodded toward Dean's computer. "And we wouldn't want you to get distracted and all."

Dean glared. Sammy could read him well enough to know the reason behind his mood. Well laugh it up, bitch. In a few more weeks, Dean knew Sam would learn all about abstinence and the true meaning of a quickie. "Fine," he muttered. Probably was a good idea, anyway. Dean would end up in an even worse mood if he saw Cas when he couldn't jump his bones. Mindful of the baby nestled against his chest, he knelt down and gave his daughter a goodbye kiss. "See you later."

"Okay. Love you, bye!" she said, taking her uncle's hand. Despite the day care center, the kids spent most of their time with Dean, Cas, Sam or Jo. Didn't take a shrink to know the loss of his mother and an often absent father had done a number on Dean's psyche. He wanted his children close as much as possible, and he was the boss, so if he said he could get his work done with Mary Dee coloring on the sofa and Johnny sleeping against him, no one could tell him no. The day care center was for when he was out on calls or the kids wanted to play with friends.

"Love you, too," he answered, even if she was abandoning him to paperwork. Well, paperless paperwork. With a heavy sigh, he sat down at his computer and pulled up the first form. This was the trouble with going legit. He'd never had to fill out a single form in the old days. Okay, credit card forms, but those usually amounted to checking the 'why, yes, I'd love a credit card from you' box.

With a sigh, he got to work. Years … okay, two hours of tedious forms later, a buzz cut into the numbness. Intercom. "Yeah?"

"President of WAD to see you."

"Damn, is it that time of the month again, already?"

"'Fraid so, Sheriff. I wouldn't have disturbed you with it, but I figured you might appreciate even this interruption."

He eyed the computer, then sighed. Yeah, even Pamela was better than this. Despite reminding him of a cross between Ruby and Bela – only more evil. "Send her in."

Pamela Barnes breezed into his office a moment later. "Hey, hot-stuff," she gave him a cheery greeting and a quick kiss on the cheek, then did the same to Johnny, "And how's your little angel?"

She always called his kids angels, and always stressed the word. It had become a fairly amusing game of 'I know that you know that I know' the truth about the mayor of this nuthouse. Had turned out most of the population was either in denial or had attributed everything to Gabriel or God. In any case, no one seemed to really get Cas was an angel. Except her. Of course she was a freaking psychic, and that was seriously cheating.

He ignored the question. "Pamela, and to what do I owe this visit? Here to count my wrinkles? Sell me a WAD membership at last?"

She made a tut-tut clicking sound with her tongue. "Now, now, you know this whole idea of Women Against Dean is all in your head."

"Right. All the women in town just happen to keep coming up with matching complaints at the same freaking time."

She smirked. "Exactly." Nope, he didn't buy it. Not for an instant. Damn it, there had been petitions! "And you know I can never let this day pass without stopping in to say thank you."

"I can't decide if it's creepy, TMI or just plain eeewww that you keep popping up on the monthly anniversary of your last period."

She patted his face again. "Ah, but if you'd ever had to endure one, sweets, you would understand." That's what had started the whole WAD thing. Someone had noticed his household had not begun purchasing feminine hygiene products despite his having given birth and figured out that along with 'immaculate conceptions' (yeah, right) came an off-switch on the whole baby making factory. No period, no cramps, no blood, no he so did not want to think about it. And Cas had been less than keen on the idea of Dean with PMS.

About a week after that first 'hey, did you notice?' conversation the petition demanding equal biological freedoms along with the threat of a discrimination lawsuit had hit his desk. Cas had caved and had a word with his Father. Petitions for no morning sickness and pain-free births had followed.

"Morning sickness," he protested. "I really did have morning sickness. I should get points for that!"

"Hmm, what was it, dear, one small dry heave before that handsome husband of yours put a stop to anything that made his precious feel bad?"

He glared at her and thought the baby talk voice at the end had been a bit much. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She laughed. "Thinking of him as human might make your neighbors feel more comfortable encountering him over putting out the trash, but don't try to tell me that the Divine intercessions around here have nothing to do with him." She smirked. "Especially the fruit of his loins ending up inside of you."

Only because wing boy had insisted he couldn't tamper with the anatomy of his vessel so Dean had to do the heavy lifting on the follow-through for God's condition. Right, like Dean bought that for an instant, but it was sort of a losing battle to argue with the source of the mojo over what he could and couldn't do. So Dean had sulked, but had agreed to getting knocked up. Twice. But he'd gotten every foot and back rub he'd wanted, too.

"And how are your nipples today?" she asked, tilting her head as if she were trying to see around Johnny's head. "All perky as usual?"

"You leave my perky nipples out of this!"

She clutched her own chest as if he'd stabbed her in the heart. "Dean, you wound me! After breast feeding two children of my own, I know how devastating that post-baby sagging can be." Dean really needed to have a word with Rufus about who he knocked up, let alone married. At least Bobby'd had the good taste to hook up with Ellen.

He sighed. "Right. De-sag all the boobs. I'll mention it." This shit was why he'd insisted on losing his pregnancy-weight the hard way instead of letting Cas mojo him back into his 'girlish' figure.

She smiled. "It would avoid yet another petition."

"I hate you," he muttered, even though he sort of kind of found the whole 'if he gets it, we get it' thing fair. But he hated admitting it.

She grinned and moved with surprising quickness. She pressed a kiss to his mouth, and her tongue did a quick dart and flick inside. "Ah, Dean, you make me wish I were a man so I could bend you over this desk."

"Hey, not in front of the baby! Besides Cas'll turn you into a frog," he said even though angels didn't work that way. Or at least he didn't think they did. Probably belonged more on the 'Things He Did Not Want to Know' list versus the 'Ask Cas' one. Still, he glared in the direction she'd gone. Maybe a newt. For just a few hours.

She laughed – one of those evil overlord sort of cackles – then sashayed out the door.

Andrea poked her head into his office a moment later. "You okay?"

"I really need to get laid," he sighed, then flushed when he realized he'd said it out loud.

"Umm, right. 'fraid you're on your own with that one, boss," she said, then retreated back to her desk.

Dean resisted the temptation to beat his head on his desk, but it was a close thing.

*

The call he'd been expecting since this morning came in at two on the dot. Three minutes later he and Sammy were on their way to one of the outlying farms. Dean pulled out his cell and hit speed dial 1. "Dean."

"Your brother's a dick."

"Agreed, but could you be more specific?" Cas asked. "There are so many candidates."

Dean smiled. "Mr. It's Cas' Birthday. Did you have to be the freaking angel of Thursday?"

"Thursday's didn't exist when I was created."

"Yeah, yeah, pull the old 'hey, humans made it up' excuse."

"I do live to torment you."

"Kind of a rank amateur compared to Gabe, sweetheart."

"You wound me. Now what's he done this time?"

"Little exterior decorating. Sam and I are headed out to Digger Wells' place. Seems all the corn in the back 40 decided to shift into some sort of maze." Dean shuddered at the pun. "No doubt there's another birthday present in the center." And no way would the dick put things back the way they were supposed to be until Dean found it.

"Sounds probable. Do you wish me to find it?"

"No!" Damn, he loved Cas but his angel seemed to forget from time to time that angels who lived full-time on Earth did not have the same juice as the visitors. Last time he'd gotten between Dean and one of Gabe's pranks, Cas had ended up in limbo for the longest hour of Dean's life. "I can handle it, and Andrea should be showing up on your doorstep with Johnny any sec now."

Cas sighed. Dean knew it was hard for him to remain behind when shit happened, but that was sort of the deal with God – Cas could stay if they had kids and he kept the angelic stuff to a minimum. "Very well. Be careful, my love."

"With you to live for? Always. Love you, Feathers."

"And I you."

Pocketing his cell, Dean pulled up next to Sam's car at the entrance to the maze. At least Dean felt it was safe to assume it was the entrance what with all the neon arrows and the flashing 'enter here' sign. He sighed. Gabe could do subtle, but he seldom bothered when tormenting his long-suffering 'bro-in-law.' Why the fuck did Cas have to be part of such an annoying package deal?

"Wait here," he said, but his brother grabbed his arm before he could take more than a single step.

"No way in Hell you are going in there alone."

"You sure you're up to it?" Dean asked. "Only cheese at the end of this maze is most likely nacho-flavored lube."

Sam shuddered, then went all poster-boy for 'girding one's loins.' "You don't go anywhere without back up," he said all firm and protective. Or scared spitless over what Cas would do to him if he let Dean out of his sight.

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes because while this had 'Gabe' written all over it, one could never be too sure and it did make sense to not wander in there alone. "Fine," and oh, what the hell, "be my knight in shining armor, just don't bitch at me when you get all embarrassed." That earned him bitchface number 47, so good day's work.

Drawing his sidearm, because so not an idiot, Dean nodded at his brother. "Let's get this done, Samantha."

"Jerk," Sam muttered, but let him move forward first, because sheriff here.

"Bitch," Dean tossed over his shoulder and took the first right. Maze design followed certain basic principals. Ones that Dean had mastered before his eighth birthday. Most things-that-go-bump-in-the-night made the mistake of simply doing the exact opposite of human work, making them just as easy to crack. Ten years worth of Thursdays had given Dean great insight into the mind of a certain Trickster-Archangel (and wasn't that a disturbing thought) so it wasn't difficult to figure out this would be a mix of usual and opposites. Trick was to figure out the pattern. And while Dean knew Gabe would be more than happy to switch things around even as they moved through the maze, he also knew Gabe had come to adore his own little brother and would not stretch things out so long that Cas got worried. So Dean figured this puzzle wouldn't need more than twenty minutes to crack.

He made one bad guess in the first five minutes and they had to do some minor backtracking. After that he spotted the pattern and they made good progress. Looked more like in and out in ten minutes when they heard it. At first it sounded like a moo, then it deepened into a more threatening sound. Like an enraged bull.

The next instant it charged around the corner, and Dean blinked, then started firing at the bull coming at them on two human legs. Shit. Not a maze of maize, but a fucking labyrinth complete with a minotaur. He was going to fucking kill Gabe. He emptied his clip into the thing's head while Sam did the same to the chest. Didn't even make it blink an eye. Not good. "Run!" they both shouted together, then took off.

They didn't have much of a head start and Dean could hear the thing gaining on them, so he stopped when they reached a T-section. Sam stood his ground at his side. They really didn't have time for the whole 'you sure about this? No, but I got nothin' else' conversation, so they shared a look, then leapt to opposite sides a split second before the nastiest span of sharp horns Dean had ever seen could gore them both.

The minotaur went crashing on through the solid wall of altered corn, then the next one before it came to a stop with a crash of body meets metal. Apparently Bessie had found their patrol cars. Awesome.

Damn beast didn't even have the grace to stagger from the impact. Instead it whirled around and charged back toward them. They ran toward the entrance, hoping to get behind the creature and to the car still in one piece. But it was too fast for them.

Dean could almost feel the thing's breath when he dove to the right slamming into Sammy so they both struck the corn – which did not give under their mere-human weight. He held tight to Sam, protecting his little brother with his own body, then cried out as something gouged along his back. White hot fire paralyzed him for a moment, letting Sam shift his weight to roll on top of Dean in some lame-ass attempt to shield him from the next charge.

"No!" Dean shouted, trying to push him off, but it was too late and the minotaur crashed into Sam with all the devastating impact of … a small, plushy stuffed toy.

They lay there for a moment in a growing pool of Dean's blood and stared at the thing for a moment, then Gabriel appeared beside them. "Shit, hang on, Deano," he said, leaning down and touching Dean's shoulder.

Instantly flesh and cloth mended good as new, and Sam helped his 'not bleeding to death' brother to his feet. Dean turned on Gabriel with fury in his eyes. "Explain!"

"It was supposed to be a cow!" Gabe insisted. "A big love-sick cow to chase Sammy here around while you laughed yourself sick."

Now there was a mental picture. "So what happened?"

The archangel shrugged. "Something warped the set-up." He sighed. "Probably leftover energy from all of Lucifer's crap. Cas and I must have missed a spot." Not surprising given how much 'satanic fallout' had spread over the area. Whole town had a funky mojo to it that attracted shit and kept Dean from regretting settling down. If they had left, they'd have had to come back every other week.

"Fine. Clean this mess up and get out of here," he said, turning toward the entrance.

"But you didn't get Cas' present," he whined. Were angels even allowed to do that?

"Gabe, I swear –" he started, whirling around to see Gabe pouting and doing 'puppy eyes' to put Sammy to shame. Shit.

"It's a good one," Gabe promised. "More for you than him even."

The mind boggled. "Fine!" he snapped, stalked through the maze to the center. Gabe appeared next to the package on the pedestal. He had a very uneasy looking Sam in tow.

"Go on, open it!" Gabe said with a gleeful little bounce.

Knowing he was going to regret this, he did. "Son of a bitch."

Gabe beamed.

Sam whimpered.

*

He grabbed a quick shower in his office, changed into a clean uniform, then started slogging through Form 36-B – a Gabriel prank gone wrong. Mercifully, Andrea buzzed him after an hour of wrestling with the damned thing. "Time for the council meeting, Dean."

Damn. His eyes flashed to the calendar hoping she was wrong, but, yep, third Thursday of the month. "Right," he said, getting up. He tried to see the meeting as a welcome break in the routine, but who was he kidding? It always ended up being about explaining all the damned stuff he had to put in the stupid forms. They simply refused to believe any of it until he told them in person. Cas kept telling him it was because he was so nice to look at they wanted to keep him in the room, but he figured his husband might be a tad biased on that point.

Deciding he might get a chance to tease Cas with them when no one else was looking, he pocketed Cas' birthday presents. "Tell Sammy he's in charge," he called, walking out the front door and across the street to the stupid town hall building. Not even a decent walk to clear his head.

He supposed he should be grateful for small favors, but Dean frowned when he walked into the meeting room and found it empty. Andrea never buzzed him until five minutes past the last minute. He waited a couple of more minutes, then headed upstairs to the mayor's office.

Jerry smiled weakly when he walked in. "Sorry, Dean, I guess I forgot to call and tell you the meeting had been postponed until tomorrow. Jo has already picked up the kids to take them home."

Dean winced at the rehearsed sound of that, then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You and your wife are conspiring against me, aren't you?"

Jerry shrugged. "He's been in a bitch of a mood all day, too."

Well, he should hope so.

"You mad?"

"Hey, if the city wants to pay me for a booty call, who am I to argue?" He grinned. "Besides, I hear the mayor is hot."

"So I'm told."

Dean chuckled and pulled open the heavy oak door barring the way to the inner sanctum. He got the door shut and bolted behind him before a strong body shoved him up against it. He groaned at the feel of Cas' erection pushing against him. "Get it in me already."

They never needed lube these days. Cas had figured out some angel thing that got Dean slick and ready to go by the time zippers unzipped and pants dropped. Dean came the minute he got Cas inside of him. His husband followed after three quick thrusts.

Cas pulled out and helped Dean undress, but didn't do more than take off his own shirt and tie as he walked back to his desk. He settled in his fancy high-backed leather chair, then gave Dean a long, hungry look.

Dean smirked. Present time! Making a show of it, he retrieved the chocolate dildo from his jacket pocket, then slipped the finger-sized confection into his slick ass. Next he pulled out the satin pink panties from the maze. Slowly he stepped into them, eased them up his legs, then into place. "Like what you see?" he asked, doing a slow twirl.

"Get over here," Cas growled, his voice even lower than normal.

Dean sauntered over to the chair. Fortunately, the thing had been custom made for a man almost three-times wider than Castiel. It left plenty of room for Dean to rest his knees on either side of Cas when he straddled his lap. And damn, his mouth tasted good. "Way better than coffee," he murmured between deep, wet kisses.

"Hmm, yes, our daughter said something about making sure you get some every morning," he answered, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"She did not put it that way!"

"I'm afraid, my darling, she did." He chuckled. "I almost spit my own coffee all over the desk."

An angel spit-take. Now that Dean would have paid to see. Although if Mary Dee had made her daily visit to Daddy the odds were good that, "She told on me, didn't she?" Just his luck to have a stool pigeon for a daughter.

Cas cupped Dean's face in his hands, then kissed him. "I would prefer if Johnny's first words did not involve fucking or blasphemy. I think Mary's almost gave Pastor Gideon a heart attack."

Dean flushed. Because sometimes he was a lousy mother and sometimes he thought things were funny he shouldn't. And while he might desperately love an angel, he never had developed much tolerance for earthly representatives. "I'm sorry. I'm-"

"You. And that is a truly wonderful thing to be." He smiled. "And a stiff whiskey got David through it. I shall simply have to buy another bottle of his favorite brand."

"Hmm, well, since you're in a forgiving mood, Pamela dropped by today."

He could hear Cas think 'oh, fuck' clear as a bell, but the goody-goody refused to really say it. Instead he sighed. "What now?"

"Boob lifts."

Cas ran his fingers over Dean's nipples, making Dean hiss, his back arching as his cock began taking an interest in round two and pressed up against the satin covering. "I'll see what I can do. Anything else?"

"Can you turn her into a newt?"

A grin spread across Cas' handsome face. "It is a thought." Despite his slightly shorter and smaller appearance, Cas stood up, lifting Dean with ease, then setting him down on the desk. Dean's knees fell open, and Cas swooped down to tease Dean's cock through the panties. He licked and sucked taking Dean to the very edge, then the bastard stood up.

Dean whimpered both at the lack of climax and the sight of his husband's cock jutting out from the fly of his suit trousers. Cas leaned over again, this time to nuzzle Dean's ear with his lips. "You're in one of your submissive moods again."

His heart began to pound. Sometimes Cas would play a little, and others he went all 'too holy for anything but missionary position,' but he'd never flat out acknowledged Dean had such a mood.

Cas' hand slipped behind Dean's neck, urging him up and off the desk, then pushing him down to his knees as Cas sat back in his chair. "Suck me."

His mouth watering, Dean leaned forward to obey. While Cas took an occasional recreational shower with Dean, he never took one for hygiene's sake. As far as Dean could tell, he constantly kept himself squeaky clean without even being aware of it. So while remnants of round one still remained on Dean's body, Cas had already eliminated every sign of it. Left him with a clean, salty taste without the hint of soap or shampoo. Dean loved it, would have happily have lived off it if he could.

Like the angel himself, Cas' cock had a long, sturdy elegance to it. He enjoyed licking and sucking it, then deep throated him and sucked even harder. Cas' hands moved down to caress his face, then they held him in place while Cas began to thrust, fucking Dean's mouth with a slow, steady pace.

Dean's own cock throbbed as he hummed in pleasure, and his fingers twitched with the need to take himself in hand. But he refused to touch himself. He wanted Cas to take him over the edge.

With a groan Cas came, pulsing down his throat. Never getting his fill of the taste of him, Dean kept sucking long after the tremors of climax passed. "Enough." Cas forced him to release his mouthful, then to look into his eyes. "You truly wish this?"

The muscles of his ass clinched in anticipation, and the hallelujah chorus began singing in his head. Still, much as he loved sex games, he loved the angel more. "Not if it is going to make you feel –" Fallen? Unholy? Unwashed? Mud monkeyish? His hand flailed in frustration.

Cas smiled. "Oh, my love, if ever a man were born to make the most patient soul long for this, it was you."

A nicely poetic way of calling him a brat. The urge to stick his tongue tickled his brain, but he thought it might make Cas laugh and break the mood. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the floor and said, "I cussed in front of the kids."

"You did."

"I pissed off Uriel."

"I heard."

"I couldn't stop Pamela from issuing another equal rights demand. Or kissing me."

Long, elegant fingers caressed his cheek, and Dean leaned into the touch. "Grave offenses all. What should I do with you?"

His voice felt tight and it came out in a hoarse whisper, "Spank me."

"Yes, I believe I will." Cas guided him up, then pulled him down across his lap. It should have been an awkward position given Dean's height, but invisible wings unfurled and helped position him, then hold him securely in place, his ass high, his cock nestled between Cas' thighs.

His husband's strong hands caressed flesh through the panties, the touch growing firmer and firmer, getting his skin ready for the first – Crack!

Fuck! He strained upward at the sudden pain, but the wings held him tightly in place. He fell back, then did what he could to lift his ass to invite the next blow. It came, then another and another. Dean's bottom began to ache, the skin began to burn.

He whimpered as Cas paused a moment to push the back of the panties down beneath the swell of Dean's ass, then his hand struck again. And again. His skin feeling like it was on fire, Dean writhed under each blow, until with a startled sob he spilled his release over the pink satin still trapping his cock.

Cas lifted him, shifting so he lay face down across the desk, his legs hanging down so he could brace himself. Dean cried out as Cas gripped his throbbing ass and pulled the cheeks apart. Dean had forgotten all about the chocolaty treat melting inside of him, but Cas went to work on him like a man starving for it.

He licked, sucked and thrust his tongue into Dean with a maddening lack of rhythm that soon had Dean moaning like a needy slut. It got worse and worse until Dean could not wait another moment longer. "God, Cas, fuck me!"

The world spun and he felt the desk top against his back, his legs draped over deceptively broad shoulders, then his husband thrust deeply into Dean's body and he sent a heart-felt thank you Heavenward for angel refraction time, not to mention his own enhanced one.

Wanting to keep Cas inside him as long as possible, he fought his release with everything he had left, his body trembling with thwarted need.

Cas caught him up, clutching him tight, then ordered, "Come for me, my love. Let go."

Completely unable to disobey, his body shuddered so hard it made them both shake. Then Dean pretty much blacked out.

Next thing he knew, Cas had them all cuddled up on the big comfy sofa on the far side of his office and his head rested on the angel's chest. "How do you feel?" Cas asked, his fingers rustling through Dean's hair.

Okay, petting him, and along those lines he opted for the closet thing to a purr he could manage, then pressed a kiss to his naked chest of a pillow. "If you wouldn't yell at me for blasphemy I'd call you a sex god."

"Hmm, have I ever mentioned that your sense of humor is proof that God does not strike people dead?"

Dean smiled. "Once or twice. So, um, how was … it for you?"

"Pleasurable. You were amazing."

"Still sexy even though I'm the mother of two?"

"You know I have never called you that."

"Yeah, but you never call me anything else either," he said, lifting up to throw Cas a disgusted look, before setting back down against his chest. "Besides, I've sort of gotten used it by now."

"Ah, then yes, the mother of my children defines sexy."

"Cas?"

"Yes?"

"You ever think about how weird our lives are? I mean, not in a bad way. Just really weirdass."

"I will admit I did not exactly expect this sort of post-Apocalypse."

In other words, yeah, this is one batshit crazy world. "Oh, well, at least it can't get any weirder," he murmured and settled in for a nap. Then his eyes flew open as he registered both the stiffening of his husband's body, and the stupidity of challenging the fates like that. "Cas?"

"About that. …"

"Cas?"

"Father has informed me He needs to turn His attention to another part of the universe."

Alarm bells starting up here.

"For just a decade or three, he said."

Getting louder. "Cas."

"And he thought it would be a good way to teach his replacement responsibility."

Deafening now. "Damn it, Cas."

"Temporary replacement. I did stress that, yes?"

Okay, time to bring out the big guns. "Castiel Winchester," he snapped in his best do-not-mess-with-Mom voice, "what replacement?"

"Gabriel."

Fuck.

End