not as i do

cuddlebabies:

deancas coda somewhere awkwardly between/alongside 12.09 and 12.10 (nsfw-ish, 3.5k) – husbands fighting; filling in the gaps between the episodes

“I’m beat,” Dean says into the silent car, as soon as they pull in.

After they met up, Dean had said he was keyed up, wired, couldn’t stop his hands from jittering as he walked. Been cooped up for too long and felt now, he said, like the Duracell bunny. Wasn’t gonna sleep for a month, he’d said, and glanced over at Castiel with a soft, sad curve to his mouth that Castiel had missed desperately and wanted badly to kiss.

Then had come Billie, and now Dean is, apparently, beat.

They’ve been sitting side by side for five hours without speaking, interrupted only by Mary fiddling with the radio, asking if anyone minds her turning the station over. Sam tilted his head against the passenger window and slept as they came through Atwood; Dean sat, rigid-spined and tense, his hands curled together in his lap, the whole way back. He didn’t look over once.

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