Cheer Up ✔️

Walk in the Park

Three weeks pass in ease; Mr Leirbag comes to collect every Thursday in his Pilate clothes, which, look exactly like his ugly tie, but tight against his body and the neckline low enough to see chest hair. Dean's work hours lessen to a point where he isn't exhausted all the time, but now his work mates know him enough to have inside jokes and a decent amount of trust.

Castiel, has taken up refusing to sleep, because, he says: 'I'm an angel of the lord. I don't need sleep'. And instead, taught himself how to draw - he was terrible at first, like a toddler - but now makes pieces good enough to sell down at the coffee shop's quaint art gallery on the corner. His main theme: bees.

Meanwhile their lives were spectacular, you could complain. Yes, you were inside all day with Cas, trying to be nice about his art, but after three weeks, it was like house arrest. So, when Dean announces a day off tomorrow - you jump at the chance.

"Could we go to the park?" You ask him.

Dean frowns. He isn't much of a park guy. Neither is Cas, but they've spent their time in many a playground across the states. The look in his eyes makes you realise that you're not too much of a park person either.

"Why?" He wonders, taking off his work shirt. It was saturated in sweat, the same as his white wife beater underneath. "I thought we'd just chill out with a movie, maybe pop some corn -,"

Castiel comes in from the other room. He grunts. "I believe what _____ is imploring is getting out of the house." He looks up at the pair of you with his baby blues, "She's been in here a long time."

You smile weakly.

Dean sighs. "I thought the whole idea of laying low meant not going out?"

You huff. "Says you! You've got a job and still go by your own name!"

He folds his arms. "Yeah, not Dean Winchester though. We're the Wesson's. It's hard answering to that! Reminds me of that Zachariah scum -,"

Castiel grunts again. "He was my brother!" He protests.

You raise your hands. "Please, don't fight. All I ask is just one trip to the park. I'll wear a disguise, a really good one. If I spend another day in here I swear I'm going to go and explode or send a signal to a den of djinn so I'll have something to do. Comprende?"

Dean comprende's.

What do you call an angel and two ex-hunters who go to the park? You weren't sure if there was a punchline to that joke, or if they already were one. Because the next day, you found yourself, Dean and Castiel at the corner store buying cheapest loaf of bread and walking with a picnic basket to the park.

"It's a lovely day," Castiel smiled, putting down the blanket. "I want to draw the flowers."

Sitting, Dean waved his hand to his friend, "Go draw, buddy, knock yourself out."

As Cas walked away, you lowered yourself to Dean's side, and smiled. It was perfect; the perfect temperature, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect moment.

You sighed.

"Don't you like the park?" Dean turns his head to look at you, a quizzical tone in his question.

You shake your head. "No, no, that's not a sigh of boredom. That's relief."

He rolls his eyes. "You've been holed into the nicest shack we've ever found for us, with a great TV and your own guardian angel," the pair of you glance down the blanket to see Castiel, sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, sketching the insects in the patch of clovers, "What more could a lucky gal who gets to sleep with me could want?" He winks.

You take a deep breath. Fresh air, you mentally list. Maybe a friend who isn't clued into all the freaky monster stuff, a puppy with eyes like Dean -

You shrug. "I only sleep with you because you're my boyfriend. And I love you." You smirk, kissing his jaw.

Dean frowns. "Are you sure? Because I have a girlfriend. She's funny, smart," he glances at you, "Hot as hell, where incidentally, I've been, so I know how hot she is. She's great at listening, and even better at mediating," he lists, his eyes giving a far away look that you know means he's off in his thoughts, "And," he ends, "you happen to be that unnaturally talented woman."

There's a blush over your cheeks as you wave off his compliments.

"No! Don't - don't play it down. You're honestly my best friend, _______."

You frown. "I thought Cas was your best friend?"

Dean snorts. "You can have more than one best friend, silly. It's a good thing that I happen to love you, because," he bends his head to kiss your neck, inhaling your scent, "You're still really bad at poker."

You still. "But you taught me how to play!" You cry out, noticing the untouched loaf of bread in the basket, dive for it.

"Touché," he winks, and at the same time you move for the bread, he goes to kiss you. "Babe," he pouts, "Come back and kiss me."

You shake your head. "I want to feed the ducks."

Dean gives you a look that you take as a calculation of how to get a kiss out of you, and get the ducks in the pond their share of the loaf.

"How about," he says after a pause, "We take a walk in the park? You get to feed the duckies, we get Cas to watch the mat and stuff, and I can take you," he points to a point in pathway where it goes to become a 'nature walk' in the thicket of trees, "We kiss there."

You still. "Only if the kiss is wildly inappropriate for public display." You propose.

Dean grins. "Deal."

You shake your head. "You can't say deal without a kiss."

His eyes light up. "I'm not arguing!" He laughs.