Novice at Normalacy

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As you opened the door for the apartment your eyes took in the (f/c) painted walls and the dark brown wooden floors and tall windows. If it weren't for the repainted walls, the apartment would have looked straight out of the '70's.

Then you saw the landlord in the middle of the room - he had dark hair and honey coloured eyes and a friendly smile behind a thick, droopy moustache; wore a professional looking suit with a tie patterned with rainbow fishes on it.

"You must be _____!" He grinned, striding forward to shake your hand. "Dean here has said a lot about you. Now, I can see why you need this place, its a great location to hit the hay after work. Big enough for your brother too, maybe even a little one..."

You laughed, but remembering the memory wipe God had given the pair of you, a chill danced down your spine, "We're not looking - I mean - not thinking of kids..."

Dean laid a hand on your shoulder. "Not for a while, anyway. Now, Mr Leirbag, what price are you thinking for rent?"

You frowned. Leirbag. Weird name.

But after this, you seemed to zone out, glancing around the apartment. You could picture yourself making pancakes on the two burner stove, and the corner by the window - you suddenly saw you and Dean with the laptop, teaching Cas human conventions.

"That should be all, I think," Mr Leirbag grinned, and turned to you, "Well, Dean, ______, consider the place yours. Rent's on Thursdays, after I come back from Pilates with Beth."

"Awesome," Dean grinned. "See you Thursday."

Understandably, the next few days were bedlam. Castiel caught fire half the kitchen after spilling lighter fluid, Dean found work as a mechanic down the road a little way, and you couldn't help but wake every night in a sweat, unable to distinguish the dreams of what horrors God had put you and Dean through to where you were now.

It worked out alright in the end, it always did. Castiel extinguished the fire with his grace, Dean found time around his eleven hour work day ("Two shifts back to back are worth it, we need a little money") to be with you, even if he was flat-out tired, and you found yourself keeping a little journal, to write back every flashback in as much detail as you could remember.

The three of you, veterans of a war nobody believed existed, were novices at normalcy.

But you got through.

"It's Wednesday!" You turn to Dean. It's barely six a.m. and the sun hasn't officially risen yet, and by all means, you wouldn't ever be up at this hour. But Dean leaves at six thirty to work the shop, and it's nice to get some Dean time.

"Yeah, it's Wednesday." He agrees. Unlike you, he's one thing short of being a zombie in the morning, and any cheer he gives off is faked. "What's so good about Wednesday's?"

You shrug, turning to the fridge. Most of the food will spoil soon, so you go to make a big breakfast so it's all used well. "I don't know. I just think it's a cool day."

He grins. "Just a cool day?"

You nod. "Also, I was wondering if -,"

"Good morning, _______, Dean," Cas interrupts, shuffling in. Angels don't need sleep, yet he looks as scruffy and tired as the next guy. "I trust you slept well?"

Dean snorts. "Yeah, buddy, we slept well."

You roll your eyes. "Thank you for asking, Castiel." You go to whisk the eggs to make scrambled eggs, and add, "Do you feel like today's going to be a good day too, Castiel?" You ask him.

The angel smiles, albeit little. "It always is, with friends like you around."

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