#( 'honey why don't you sit down and we'll discuss... the shirts?' )

[clochanamarc]

i need it to be known that in the very first month (MONTH!) of aisling's life in manhattan, she had no clothes, so (thanks to stanley) aisling wore nothing but hawaiian shirts and sweatpants for a solid month, before a group of the eccentric but unanimously concerned neighbours banded together to bring her clothes that didn't cause richard to wince every time she walked into the room.

[liron-ao3]

But of course.

Dean runs a hand over his face, completely exhausted. He's so tired. It's nothing unusual. He never sleeps enough. But this again?

Damn it!

Where is the angel!? It's a question he has asked a thousand times, never getting an answer. Just once and then he had found him, pulled him against his chest, smiled from ear to ear, huffed in relief as he felt Castiel's rigid body in his embrace.

He had managed to ignore that Cass didn't hug back. He didn't want to think about what it meant. He didn't want to question his own motives, either. Sure, Castiel was his friend. Dean is a loyal person. But more than once, Benny had asked him, "Why?" If the angel was really worth the hassle. He had never found an answer other than a disgruntled, "Yeah."

Dean pushes up from the empty bed, pulls a shirt over his bare chest and pitter-patters barefooted over the bunker's cold floor. He'd like to call for his boyfriend, but that would wake Sammy and with him likely Eileen. She's seven months pregnant and struggles enough to get sleep with her restless legs and heartburn.

It's the fifth night in a row that Dean woke up to an empty bed. The former angel suffers from insomnia that even tops Dean's worst phases. Every night, Dean prays that his love might find rest in his arms. He's not sure who he is praying to. Jack? Maybe. Anyway, his son isn't listening. Hand's off.

Dean shuffles through the common places where Castiel usually tries to kill time - the kitchen, the library, the main room. Once, he even found him in the storage room where the Empty had taken him, standing at the exact spot where he had smiled while Dean's heart shattered into pieces. But he hadn't smiled then.

He hasn't smiled a lot since he's back. Not even when Dean had told him that he loved him, too. Not when they first kissed. Not when they first made love. He assured him that he wanted it, wanted him. And Dean decided to believe him. It would become better with time, he hoped.

To each of the few smiles that Castiel mustered, there is melancholy. No. This word isn't strong enough. There's something as heavy a lead pressing the former angel down, tinting every good emotion grey.

Dean hates it, can't shake the feeling that it's his fault. He thought he did the right thing, fighting him out of the Empty. But all he had gotten were tired eyes and a "You shouldn't have done that."

It had made Castiel so happy when he told Dean that he loved him that it was enough to summon the Empty. But now that he has him, nothing really seems to pierce the veil of darkness. It's so much worse than the worrisome, honey-collecting version of Cass all those years back. At least, he had smiled then.

It's superficial and stupid to wish for this, Dean knows that. It was just another way for Castiel to cope. He always carries all the world's burdens on his shoulder, especially Dean's crap. But it's not fair!

Dean never expected an apple pie life. Not really. But with Cass, he had hoped for a slim slice of it. At this point, he'd be thankful for a crumb.

He scolds himself inwardly for this train of thought. He's ungrateful. He falls asleep with his man snuggled against him every night. He looks in blue eyes when they make love. He holds his hand when they watch a movie. It's so much. More than he ever dared to dreamt of.

Dean's steps grow wider and faster as he nears his Cave. Maybe—yes! There are flickering lights under the door and subdued music coming from the room. Dean takes a deep breath before he pushes the door handle down.

Castiel sits in the armchair that is labelled his boyfriend's in Dean's head. He looks at the tv screen, his eyes fixed on a bumblebee collecting nectar.

Dean chuckles softly, calling attention to himself, hoping not to startle Castiel. He doesn't. His partner doesn't even so much as flinches.

"Bumblebees are funny. By all rules of aerodynamics, they shouldn't be able to fly," Dean says, hoping to pull his boyfriend's gaze to himself.

"That's not true Dean. Humans were just too fixated on their formulas for aeroplanes to see the dynamics behind the wingbeats, the vortex they produce, not to mention the joint I added to make it possible for them to kink the wings and heighten the weight they can move even further.

Dean sinks into his armchair. "You worked on creating them?" Castiel hums in affirmation. "Why are you watching a documentation then? You know them better than anyone."

Castiel is silent for a long moment and Dean wonders if he somehow insulted him. But then, there's a sound that he hasn't heard way too long and it makes his heart clench.

A chuckle.

Not as free and loud as he knows it can be, but it's there, echoing in the sparsely decorated room.

"It reminds me that my existence had meaning."

The short burst of hope crumbles to dust at these words. Dean fights against the tears brimming his eyes. Castiel saved the world, more than once, and especially with his self-sacrifice. They wouldn’t have defeated Chuck without him!

"Your life has meaning," Dean says, his voice carefully schooled. Castiel chuckles again, bit tjis time without mirth.

"I know."

It feels rehearsed, like an automatic reply to soothe Dean's nerves. No. This won't do! Dean gets up and down on his knee in front of the man he loves. He cups his cheeks with both hands, relishing that Castiel leans into the touch.

"You are important. To me, to Sam and Eileen, to Claire and Kaia, and so many more. We need you, man."

"You'd be well off with or without me," Castiel answers evenly and Dean covers the pain with anger, lets it build up in the very familiar way. He clenches his jaw and lets go of this boyfriend's face, gets up, turns, and kicks a pile of DVDs through the room.

Then he turns back, outstretched pointer hovering mere centimetres from Castiel's face.

"You have no idea!" The force of Dean's words makes Cass pull back - not in fear but in gut-wrenching surprise. "I burnt you on that pyre, spread your ashes in the meadow. I got you back just to let Chuck let us screw over once again. I'm not proud to say this, but with you gone, I thought of flipping the bird to this shit of a life and go down in a damn vampire nest or something."

"Your life is not shit!" Castiel counters, always willing to make Dean feel and think better of himself. Hell, he did it even when he thought he would die for good.

"Yes, you're right. But still—" Dean runs a hand through his hair. His brain isn't awake enough for the depth of discussion they need to have and neither is Castiel's judging by the looks of his lover's red-rimmed eyes. He takes a deep breath. "You are my home, Cass. My rock. I don't say this to make you stay or to make you put on a brave face. I appreciate that you're not acting as if everything is fine. But we need to talk about what's going on in your mind. What makes you so sad all the time. I can't—"

Castiel looks at him with unhidden fear. Hell! The man fought demons and angels, God himself. He shouldn't look like that because of a hunter who feels so many things that he can never properly put them into words.

"I can't ignore it any longer. You need help. Hell, we all need therapy. But, damn it, Cass! I want us to be happy. I want you to be happy. And don't tell me you are. You're a terrible liar."

There is another chuckle and Dean wants to cry. Because it's all too much and not enough. He can't make his boyfriend better and that sucks big time. He's a doer, a carer, a damn Acts of Service love languager. He's shitty at gifts that his man understands, he's bad with words when it counts. But he can touch, is allowed to touch now. So he does.

He pulls Cass into his arms, feels him melt against him. He brushes his hand through the unruly mop of hair. "Come to bed. Sleep. Tomorrow, we'll take care of this, okay?"

He feels Castiel's head nod against his shoulder. He presses a kiss into his hair and pulls back, scrutinising him for a long moment. There is the ghost of a tired smile on his lips. Dean counts it as a win.

He switches off the tv and leads him to their bedroom, tucks him in before he slides under the covers, and pulls him close. "I am here. And I am happy that you are here. Never doubt that," Dean murmurs. "You're the best thing ever happening to me."

"But I'm broken, Dean. I can't be of any use to you, now that I lost the rest of my grace."

Dean huffs his anger out through his nose. "If you're broken, we'll find a way to fix you. And the other bullshit—don't you dare think that's what we kept you around for. You're family. Like a brother to Sammy, a father for Claire, the man I love. Don't get pissed, but your love has always been your strongest asset. You saved me from me a million times. Hell, just think of Jack." He takes a deep breath because his anger won't solve anything. "You are love and you are loved. You don't need to be useful and still, you are. Every. Single. Second."

Castiel looks at him with glassy eyes. "I want to believe you."

Dean presses a kiss on his forehead. "I know." He brushes a strand of hair out of Castiel's eyes. "Just promise me you'll try."

"I will," Cass whispers and then he smiles. Tired, but enough to form crinkles around his eyes. And it's just a start. Dean knows that. But it's enough for now.

"Sweet dreams, honey," Dean whispers and cradles Cass' head to his neck. "I'll watch over you."

[boston-boy-cevans]

Emotionless

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Pairing: Professor Steve Rogers x Aus Reader.

Warnings: Language, Angst (I don't really write angst it's not my forte so bare with me)

Previous Chapters Here

______________________

As you both climb up the stairs to your shared home, Steve notices the front door slightly ajar

"You didn't leave the door open did you?" He asked going up the stairs ahead of you.

"No, you were the last out of the house"

Steve looks back at you, "stay here" you could hear the worry in his voice so you stayed put and watch Steve slowly and cautiously enter your home.

You don't take any chances and call 911 as soon as Steve is no longer in sight.

You hear a struggle upstairs near your bedroom, you go to run inside but the small kick in your belly stops you 'I can't risk it' you think to yourself.

You hear a car in the distance, then flashing lights, you calm down a little releasing the breath you didn't know you were holding.

The officer approaches you "you called about a break in?" He asked.

You didn't get to answer before the sound of running footsteps coming down the stairs

"Y/N watch out!" You hear Steve yell

All of a sudden a man you've never seen before comes running out of your home, he looks banged up like Steve got a few shot in and you scream.

The officer is able to stop him just as Steve comes running out of the front door.

"Steve what's going on?"

"I don't know" he says wiping the blood from his bottom lip "our house is trashed, and he was upstairs waiting in our bathroom" he walks towards you and makes sure you're ok before heading over to the police officer to give a statement.

You sit on your front steps, scenarios running through your mind 'what if the front door hadn't of been open?' 'What if you went upstairs to your bathroom without Steve?' you can't hold the tears back as you sob 'what did this guy want?' 'Did he want to hurt you?'

You've never seen him before in your life, why would he want to hurt you if he doesn't even know you.

Another officer comes over to take your statement.

"Who is that guy?" you asked wiping your tears away "why did he do this?" your breath is shaky as you try calm yourself down

"That's what were gonna figure out" the officer responds "we'll keep you updated" just then Steve comes over with worry all over his face, you stand as he hugs you tight "we'll keep you both updated, for now I suggest changing your locks and installing security cameras" the officer finishes, he gives you both a sympathetic look before walking back to his car.

Nat and Clint arrive just before the police leave, "what the fuck happened?" Nat asked as they rushed over to you both.

"Break in" Steve answers

You all head inside and you finally see the damage this guy did to your home, your sofa is torn apart, chairs broken and scattered around the room, plates and cups smashed

"Jesus fucking Christ" Clint mutters

"We'll clean up down here, you guys head upstairs" Nat ordered, she is always good in a crisis.

Thankfully upstairs isn't as bad as downstairs, a broken mirror and clothes thrown around the room.

You begin to pick up garments e were hen Steve stops you

"Hey, no" he says softly "you sit, you're not doing this, the situation alone to too stressful for you" you walks you over to an armchair that somehow escaped any damage and helps you sit "I'll make you some honey tea"

You watch Steve leave and you take a few deep breaths and you begin to relax into the seat.

***

"He was a lowlife thug, he was hired to attack you" the officer Lang says looking at you.

A shiver runs down your spine and you hold your bump tight, your eyes brimming with tears as your thoughts run wild at what this man could've done to you, to your baby. In that moment you feel Steve's warm arms wrapping around you.

"Did he say who hired him?" Steve asked

"Uh" officer Lang opens a file and flips through the pages "he didn't have a full name, just a first and last initials" he finds the page he's looking for "ah, M. C" he says looking up at Steve "don't worry Mr Rogers, we are doing everything we can to find this guy"

Steve's eyes widen and he looks at you.

"It's not a guy" Steve says looking towards the officer "we actually know someone with the initials M. C that has a rocky past with us" he clears his throat.

The confusion prominent on your face as Steve turns back to you

"You're gonna want to talk to Margret Carter, she goes by Peggy, she's an English teacher at the high school" he finishes.

Your own eyes widen with worry "I don't think she's capable of something like this Steve, I mean she's-"

"She almost to hit you with her car, she's assaulted you, she faked a pregnancy and she even told Nat that she thinks you stole her life, we don't know what she's capable of, what we do know is she has a personal vendetta against you and this guy was hired to hurt you"

You can see the concern on Steve's face, looking down at your hands you nod as tears roll down your cheeks as you both sit at the officers desk, you can feel the eyes of those near by watching you.

You take a deep breath and sniff before looking back up at Steve, then officer Lang "you should bring her in to question" you croak.

Sitting in the car outside the precinct, the realization of someone truly wanting to hurt you hits as you sob uncontrollably, Steve leans over to embrace you, to try comfort you in any way he can.

Your tears begin to soak the shirt he's wearing but neither of you care, you've been holding this in for the past 48 hours and everything has become too much.

When you get back to your house you stand in the living room, everything seems wrong, like this isn't your home anymore, this isn't a place you feel comfortable, you don't feel safe in here anymore.

"We need to move" you say softly not looking at Steve or anywhere in particular

"Ok" you hear Steve respond.

Over the next hour Steve looks for a new place as you shower in Nat's old bathroom, you haven't been able to step foot in your own since that night.

You've tried, but you barely make it over the threshold, Steve moved the bed into Nat's old room yesterday, you couldn't sleep, you would lay awake all night, tears rolling down the sides of your face.

When Steve woke up to your sobs and he comforted you, then told you to go downstairs and make a cup of teapot yourself.

He moved the bed that night, you're so thankful for him, he's been a rock for you and your emotional state the past few days, your pregnancy hormones weren't helping you at all.

"I found a place" he says on the other side of the bathroom door as you dry yourself "it comes furnished so we don't even have to take anything, we can leave everything behind" he sighs

You open the bathroom door, towel wrapped around your body, you don't say anything, you just pull him in for a hug.

"When can we move?"

***

A few days later you're both in the middle of packing clothes and other sentimental items you want to take with you in the move when Steve's phone rings.

"It's officer Lang" he says picking up his phone.

"Officer?" He says answering the phone putting it on speakerphone

"Mr Rogers, I have news regarding your case" officer Lang starts "we picked up Miss Carter, she denied everything" both you and Steve look unsurprised but both of you are annoyed knowing she's behind everything "we questioned her a little further, asked about the assault on Miss Y/L/N, the fake pregnancy, she came clean shortly after" you both let go of the breath you both were holding "she confessed, she hired the guy to trash your house and attack Miss Y/L/N"

You both knew it was her but hearing it confirmed by officer Lang made your stomach drop, she really wanted to hurt you and Steve

"We need to discuss what kind of charges you want on her, if you want any at all. It's best we do this in person, if you can come into the station tomorrow we can go over everything" officer Lang finished

"Uh, yeah, we can come in tomorrow" Steve says before hanging up.

You finish packing in silence, both of you busy with your own thoughts.

The next day, just after lunch you arrive at the police station, wanting to move things along quickly you both agreed to press any and all charges you can against Peggy.

You both want nothing more than for this nightmare to be over with.

Before you leave the station for the last time, you need to see her.

Officer Lang guides you to the interrogation rooms, he opens a door and the room is empty, with a 2 way mirror on the right side wall.

You walk in, Steve close behind you, your breath catches when you see her, she's cuffed to the desk, but she doesn't look sad or angry or anything, no signs of remorse or even humanity.

In that moment, you feel a sense of calm, like good things will finally happen, you look forward to tomorrow and you're future with Steve and your child.