#idk this is horribel writing but i just wanted to write dean reading a story to his grandkids

[horsegirlcastiel]

dean’s knees pop as he crouches down to prepare a fire. his hands are softer than they used to be, so he tries his best to avoid splinters as cas hands him the wood from out on the deck. it’s a domestic picture. their home smells of pine and apple pie.

dean takes his lighter and flicks it on, he sets fire to electric bills used as tinder and watches as the flames lick up onto the dry of the wood.

fire is a gentle act now.

he stays down on his knees for just a moment longer before he’s standing with a groan and letting cas put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“i’m getting too damn old to handle this cold, cas”

but cas just smiles, eyes wrinkling at the sides. says “and isn’t that wonderful?”

dean’s about to reply when the doorbell rings.

jack’s here with salem. dean stands at the top of the stairs while cas goes down to the entry to welcome them in. the cold air blasts in from outside and dean grumbles about ‘what’s the point of a fire if you’re gonna keep the damn door open?’ cas shoots him a look from the entry way and dean feels any amount of resentment melt away.

salem is the first to reach him, bounding up the stairs and wrapping themself around dean’s leg like some kind of vine.

‘hey kiddo’ he grins down and ruffles their hair.

‘hi grampy!’

salem’s getting big, bigger every time he sees them, and damn he swore he wouldn’t cry, but his vision blurs behind his glasses anyways.

he decides to walk towards the fire and salem giggles, clinging to his leg. he loves messing with the kid, he’ll be damned if he ain’t the fun grandpa.

he’s trying to wiggle salem and his leg around the living room when jack and cas emerge from the staircase into the hall. dean grins like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and cas grins back. then he’s looking at jack.

jack is taller than cas and broad. the kid used to be a string bean, but he’s filled out. it’s probably from all the hunting he’s been doing (dean does not approve) but you gotta pick your battles when your son is god.

jack smiles and cas takes his hand off from where it was resting on his shoulder so jack can move towards dean and pull him into a hug. salem giggles as they are squished between jack and dean, but dean barely notices.

his son is strong, and he’s so fucking proud of him.

“hey son.” he murmurs.

jack pulls back, keeping his hands on dean’s shoulders.

“hello dad”

cas looks on and his heart swells.

the day passes by. snow starts falling at half-past noon, and the apple pie is finished not long after, despite being meant for after dinner. they play the game of life, salem loves driving the little car game pieces around the board and declaring that they can have whatever house they want from the card deck.

dean and jack drink hot coffee while cas brings out a few old toy sets to show salem. they all end up on the carpet putting together legos and laying wooden train tracks all around the floor.

when night falls, jack decides to stay the night as the snow is falling in flurries and the drive home isn’t very safe.

dean admires his caution, that despite everything, jack remains humble, aware of the risks living a true life can bring.

jack keeps trying to put salem to sleep but they keep running down into the living room to hear what the adults are talking about, ‘cause they don’t wanna miss out.

the third time it happens, before jack can sigh and go to stand, dean calls salem to his side on the couch. they curl up next to him, small hands fisting in his soft cable knit sweater. the light of the fire is flickering, but dean thinks it’ll do.

he gives castiel a look, and that’s all cas needs to stand and head to their bedroom to grab something.

he returns with a book in hand, a worn, small book with yellow dog-eared pages.

dean’s heart thumps in his chest, all these years and cas knowing him, really knowing him, is all it takes to start the butterflies.

damn, he loves him.

dean gazes up at cas as he hands him the book, and admires him for a moment. jack hums and breaks the moment. cas settles down on dean’s other side, pressing close and warm.

salem has been waiting patiently when they ask “what’s that grampaw?”

“a story, kid. would you like me to read it to you?”

“is it a good story?”

cas interjects, “a very good story, salem.”

dean glances over at cas and gives him a quick kiss to the cheek. he hears salem snort but they don’t say anything to tease.

dean looks over at where jack is admiring the scene before him, at his dads cuddling up to his most precious creation, his child. his heart pitter patters in his chest, his soul in tact and filling with deep affection. he’s the luckiest son on earth.

jack is broken out of his reverie when the fire pops and dean clears his throat to begin reading. he adjusts his glasses, pulls salem in closer with one hand and holds the book in the other.

so it goes:

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”