Five years later

So the long distance-thing, no matter how much they FaceTimed and talked on the phone, didn't work. 

Their unlimited texting plans probably bankrupted their service provider,

not to mention their own weeping bank accounts when they'd been traveling back and forth the six hundred miles between Sioux Falls and Pontiac to meet each other, taking every possible chance to be together, trying to make up for the time they'd been apart and boinking like bunny rabbits. 

In the end, it just wasn't for them, the long distance thing. Even taking Baby on road trips had lost its shine after some point, and that was really saying something.

So they fixed it.

They'd agreed there was no point in uprooting them both, and Cas’s small apartment and the fact that he could work anywhere. So Cas had happily conceded with moving in with Dean to the house he'd inherited from his Uncle Bobby.

Both of them had had some debt that was covered by the money they’d made from completing the challenge of Unclothed And Fearful , since debt was as inevitable as death when you had been tickling the forty-years- mark. Cas’s splitting axe had slipped a couple years ago, embedding itself in Cas’s shin, which had caused some serious medical bills because insurance for survival instructors wasn’t covering much more than a splinter in a toe. 

Luckily the incident hadn’t hindered Cas’s will to swing an axe, and Dean often got to enjoy the view, and Cas even agreed to go shirtless when Dean asked nicely. Watching him heft the tool and chop a log the size of Cas’s own thigh was a sight to behold.

After a couple months of struggling with money, Cas having issues with ' living off of Dean ' while working at a Gas-n-Sip, it had all finally panned out when Cas found an amazingly paying survival instructor gig for some rich assholes, and was now making enthusiastic noises about starting his own courses.

It wasn't like they were rolling in cash, but they got by comfortably. It helped that they knew how to take advantage of what nature had to offer, and used it every change they got. Their freezer was always full.

It turned out their Unclothed episode aired without a hitch and without much fanfare.

It had been downright anti-climatic to see them just leisurely going about their daily tasks and getting along swimmingly. The production had even managed to edit their extraction day into something much less enthusiastic, their celebration edited and their passionate kissing deleted. It somehow underlined how very boring it could have been, had they been paired with anyone else. 

Although it was kinda surprising, when Dean saw the footage of him leaving Cas alone to look for the African wormwood to bring his partner’s fever down. Somehow he hadn't quite realized just how distraught he'd been while being terrified of losing Cas before he even truly had him, until the film showed him muttering to himself in obvious distress.

It would have been embarrassing if it wasn't for the grounding hand on his thigh when they watched it, Cas’s thumb drawing circles there, and the emotion in Cas's eyes when they saw and approved the episode together. They hadn't watched it since.

The whirlwind of their twenty-one days in South Africa had begun to bind them together, and they'd both learned to compromise along the way. Enough to allow them to navigate each other's lives into what it was now. And if you asked Dean, it really was the domestic bliss he had thought he’d never want, yet here he was, and would rather sell his soul than give this away.

Enough so, that they'd been calling this house theirs for three years now, instead of Bobby's, like Dean had referred to it until Cas made a home here. Made a home for Dean just by being. The ownership of the house had been officially signed and sealed to both of them the first week Cas arrived with two suitcases, a backpack, the panels of their sex mirror very carefully packaged, and a stack of books the height of Sam. It really was theirs .

Dean found Cas standing in the living room, wearing the clothes he’d put on after they’d woken up, which was what people usually slept in, but people usually didn’t have their infatuation with sleeping naked; Dean’s gray old Zeppelin t-shirt and Dean’s hot dog pajama pants, both a bit threadbare already, but so comfy and soft Dean didn’t want to part with them, and judging by how often Cas snuck them for himself, he didn’t either.

Cas was staring at the framed, creased and battered map with fruit juice stains hanging on the wall with soft eyes. 

Once again Dean was grateful they'd come all this way. Granted, it could have gone smoother, mainly their living situation for two years, but in the end, what could you expect from a couple of men too stubborn to give up.

Dean watched Cas, going unnoticed while he was carrying two mugs of coffee, the one he’d selected for Cas this morning proclaiming that contained ‘survival juice’, which never failed to put a grin on Cas’s face. 

The vision Cas made now, that wild bed head, lips curved into a dreamy smile, had stopped Dean in his tracks. He put their coffees on the table and smiled in answer when Cas turned to Dean before studying the map again.

In a couple steps Dean was front-to-back with Cas, hugging his husband by the waist, seeing what Cas was seeing. Where they stopped surviving and began thriving.

He pressed a kiss to Cas's shoulder and tightened his hold when Cas rested his hand on Dean's arm and held him close. Dean could swear even their hearts beat to the same tattoo.

“I love you, my angel,” the words true since the very early days they’d entered the challenge of the Bushveld.

Cas let Dean take more of his weight, turning in Dean’s arms and craning his neck to smile at Dean, looking at him like he was everything. “I love you so much, Dean.” For a moment spent in reveling in those familiar words, Dean closed his eyes and smelled Cas’s shampoo, the underlining scent of the man himself being the most enticing, and the most calming thing for Dean.

A long, slow, adoring kiss followed, and the men went back to inspecting the map.

Castiel would probably always make Dean's heart thump faster. This resilient, infuriating, wonderful, man, willing to deal with Dean’s shit.

Still refusing to tap out.