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To say that it has been a long day, would be a gross understatement.
Dean hadn't even meant to be in the shop today. Hell, as far as he was concerned, he wasn't meant to leave his bed. After three consecutive days of opening the shop, he was well ready for a day of nothing. An entire 24-hours where the only thing that mattered was if he had enough snacks, and the only coffee he had to refill was his own (even if it's decaf—he's come to tolerate it). But Claire's friends had surprised her by coming to town, and even though the teen insisted that she could still work her shift, Dean had told her to go off and enjoy herself. She'd only be a teenager once, after all.
Still, perhaps Dean should've thought twice about insisting that he could cover her. Only two hours into the eight hour shift and his feet were aching, his back was in half, and if one more person had told him that they wanted 'just coffee' when he asked what type, he wouldn't have taken responsibility for his actions.
Thankfully, Castiel was there to help.
The alpha had put Dean on til duty, and til duty only. Taking orders, giving change, anything he could do without having to move from the stool he'd carried in from the back. With Castiel working front of house, it meant they'd ran out of pastries early, but they had little choice.
Now, back home, Dean could cry at the sight of his bed.
With his jeans already forgotten about on the floor, the omega stands at the bottom of the bed. Without much thought, he takes his t-shirt off and lets it fall from his hands, head tipping back as he lets out a grateful sigh. Just as he's about to round the side of the bed, he smells that familiar scent—honey and vanilla, and just the faintest note of pepper. He looks over to Castiel, his alpha already undressed and sat up in bed, beneath the sheets.
Dean tilts his head to the side; in that very way that Castiel often does, that's rubbed off on him over the years. "What's got you so happy?" He asks, resting a hand on top of his bump.
Castiel replies with a smile, pulling back the sheets in invitation to his omega. "You."
If asked, Dean would deny how bright his cheeks turn at the answer. "You're a real cheeseball Cas, you know that?"
The alpha laughs, watching as Dean walks to his side of the bed. "Yeah, you tell me every so often," he replies, unable to resist the urge to touch Dean the moment he's beside him. Castiel's arm wraps around his waist, and he leans into his neck, kissing over the scent glands.
Dean inhales sharply, hand gripping the alpha's on his waist.
"You're so beautiful, Dean," Castiel says, gently pushing the omega down against the pillows.
"I'm eight months pregnant, Cas. If anything, I'm-" He's cut off with a kiss.
"No. You are. You're beautiful," Castiel insists, pulling back so their foreheads can rest against one another's. The alpha's free hand rests against Dean's stomach, slowly finding its way up to the top before sliding back down again.
Dean shakes his head. "I'm hardly what I was," he says, voice quiet enough that the insecurity can make itself known. He could understand it, back then. When they were young and his body hadn't grown and pushed out a whole other life. Back before he was subject to morning sickness and sleepless nights, when the only homework he had to worry about getting in on time was his own. Dean wouldn't change how it happened, he loves Claire more than he can express, but he knows that two pregnancies in and nearly two decades later, he's' hardly what he was.
"You're still beautiful," Castiel replies, looking at Dean in that way that makes him melt.
It's still a mystery to Dean, why Castiel stayed. Everytime he's asked, the alpha simply replies with 'well, what's not to stay for?'.
Dean sighs, "You know what I mean." All that time ago, back in college, they'd both been party animals. Dean had rocked low-rise jeans and skimpy tops, and Castiel had gripped his hips and let him grind into him until it got too much, and they had to find some available bedroom (or, on more than one occassion, a broom closet). "I'm not exactly desirable like this."
"You are to me."
Dean turns his head to the side, away from Castiel, his eyes filling with tears. From Castiel's words or his own frustrations, he doesn't know.
Gently, as if Dean is made of glass, Castiel takes the omega's cheek and turns his face back to his own. "I mean it. You say all this stuff as if you aren't the omega I fell in love with in college. As if you aren't the mother of my children, or the one that I want to grow old with." His hand finds Dean's now, bringing it up to his lip, each knuckle met with a kiss softer than before. "If you don't believe it, then I'll just believe it enough for the both of us."
Dean is on the verge of crying, but instead, he softly presses his fist into Castiel's arm. "Cheeseball," he repeats weakly.
Castiel grins. "Yeah, but you love it."
Soon enough the two of them are laying down. Dean on his side, with Castiel behind him, spooning him. It won't last long, with Dean needing to change positions at least a hundred times before he settles, but for now, the omega lays in the arms of the alpha who has never seen him as anything but the most beautiful man to grace the planet.