Suptober Day 4: "Ghosts in my Head"
Rating: Teen and Up
Ship: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Tags: Kid Jack Kline, Halloween Costumes, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Wants to be a Better Father Than John Was (and he is), Musicals, Creative Dean Winchester, Castiel Comforts Dean Winchester, Kissing, Breaking Cycles, Defying (the Gravity of Childhood Trauma)
Summary: When Jack asks Dean to make him a dress for his Halloween costume, Dean is forced to confront John's lingering voice. Cas helps him realize he's a better dad than John ever was.
Read under the cut, or on ao3!
Dean is shoving a bite of pancake into his mouth when Sam walks into the kitchen and slams a calendar down next to his plate. He plops into the chair between Dean and Cas, who’s also eating pancakes, though in a more restrained manner.
Swallowing painfully, Dean gestures with his fork. “What?”
“There’s only a week left until Halloween,” Sam says, tapping a finger on the calendar as if to prove his point.
“So?” Dean cuts another chunk of his pancake stack. After a moment of hesitation, he pours some more syrup on it, too.
This display almost distracts Sam; he watches in clear distaste as Dean crams the dripping forkful into his mouth. “So, Jack doesn’t have a costume yet.”
“Are we doin’ that?” Dean asks, muffled around his chewing.
“It’s his first Chuck-free Halloween. His first time getting to be an actual kid. Of course we’re doing it. Right, Cas?”
“Collecting sweets or deceptions did sound like a fun activity when you told me about it,” Cas replies.
“Sweets or— oh,” Dean says with a chuckle. “Yeah, trick-or-treating could be fun, I guess. We can take him to a rich neighborhood and get the big candy bars like they do in movies.”
“We need a costume first,” Sam reminds him.
Dean leans back in his chair with his coffee mug and nods. “Okay. Well, there’s probably a bunch of stuff lying around the Bunker. We can finagle something.”
“Cas and I were thinking we’d take Jack to a Spirit Halloween.”
Grimacing, Dean takes a sip of coffee. “Aw, come on. He’ll just look like any other kid if we go to one of those places. We can make him something way cooler. I used to make you epic costumes.”
Sam smiles and looks down at the table as if he’s remembering. “You were seriously resourceful.”
“I’m tellin’ ya, Jack’s gonna be the coolest Nephilim in Lebanon.” Dean sets his mug down, then immediately sits up straight as an idea hits him. “We can probably find everything to make him a Hatchet Man costume!” He picks up his syrupy knife and brandishes it in front of him. “Time to slice and dice, baby.”
Sam pulls a face. Dean sobers. “What?”
“Just… make sure to ask Jack what he wants to be, okay? You know he’s not big on slasher films.”
“Not for my lack of tryin’,” Dean grumbles. When Sam fixes him with a flat look, he waves a hand. “Yes, okay, fine. It’ll be up to him. I’ll make him whatever he wants.”
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“You want to be who?”
“Elphaba!” Jack exclaims, bouncing off the couch and striking a pose with his arms up as if he’s about to burst into song. “From Wicked. I watched it with Sam.”
“The musical,” Cas murmurs in Dean’s ear. “Elphaba is the Wicked Witch.”
Dean purses his lips in thought. “Okay. We can— we'll see what we can find. What does she look like? We can probably make a dude version of whatever she wears.”
Jack stops his posing and faces him, head tilted and brow furrowed in a spitting image of Castiel. “Why?”
“Why what?” Dean asks as he bends down to pick up some pieces of popcorn from the floor of the Dean Cave. He still calls it that in his head, even though Jack’s rebranding to “hangout room” has been widely accepted by the rest of the family. At least Dean’s recliners stayed, scooched to either end of the room to make space for the couch in the middle.
“Why a dude version?” Jack even uses air quotes. It’s unsettling.
Dean straightens up. “Well, uh—”
He pauses. Thinks. His eyes narrow. He thinks some more. And then his stomach drops so suddenly that his head spins, and he has to get out of the room now, right now. He turns on his heel and strides away as fast as he can, rounding the corner with a hand on the doorframe. Jack calls after him, voice high and chagrined, and that just fuels the spiraling undertow that’s stealing Dean’s breath.
He flings open the door to his room, slamming it behind him, and drops face-first onto his bed. He buries a yell into the fabric of his pillow.
The door creaks open just a moment later. Cas’ measured footsteps approach the bed, and the mattress dips. A warm, broad palm rests in the center of Dean’s back.
“Tell me,” Cas says gently.
Dean screws up his whole face against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut with such force that stars pop up.
Cas’ hand smooths small, firm circles over Dean’s t-shirt. Patient. Dean feels his breathing slow down incrementally with the steady movement.
“I sounded like him,” he mumbles into the pillow. Shame prickles hot in his chest.
All Cas does is switch to dragging his fingers up and down Dean’s spine, between his shoulder blades and down to his tailbone. When Dean stays quiet, he asks, “Your father?”
It takes real effort to shift his face off the pillow and peer up at Cas with one miserable eye. “Yeah.”
Cas nods thoughtfully. Then he slides off the bed and kneels on the floor so that his head is in line with Dean’s. He strokes Dean’s rumpled hair off his forehead.
“Would you like to know what it sounded like to me?” he asks, and his eyes are so unbearably kind that Dean feels like hiding again. He doesn’t deserve this— this understanding.
Cas doesn’t let him withdraw, though. He brushes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone. “I was there. I saw you listen to your son’s question. I saw you take it seriously and remove yourself before you perpetuated anything harmful. It takes a strong man to do that, Dean.”
“I just couldn’t believe it,” Dean whispers. “It was like I was hearing him.”
“You are not your father," Cas says. "This reaction proves that as much as anything."
Instead of tipping his face into the pillow, Dean leans it up against Cas' hand. It's easier to close his eyes to say the next part, so he does. "I hate how much he's still… here." He taps his temple. "I don't want to let him out anymore. Not around Jack."
Cas continues to trace his cheek. "You didn't let him out today." His voice hardens as he adds, "He is nothing compared to you."
An unbidden chuckle escapes Dean's tight throat. "Wow. Tell me how you really feel."
Cas lets out a low laugh. It's part humorous and part threatening, and Dean finds it very hot. He finally sits up, aware of his red pillow-face, and scoots over so Cas can sit next to him.
"Is Jack upset?" he asks.
Cas shakes his head. "Not at all. He's excited about his dad making him a costume."
"I don't really care about— about that stuff I said. You know that, right?" Dean keeps his eyes fixed on his lap. "John would've had an aneurysm if he ever caught me or Sam in, uh, other kinds of clothes, but I don't— I'm not like that."
"Of course I know that."
Dean nods and sucks in a huge breath, slapping his hands on his knees. "All right. Let's go. I'm gonna make that kid the wickedest damn witch in Kansas."
“Wait,” Cas says. He brackets Dean’s neck with his palms and leans in, catching his lips in a slow, languid kiss. It’s chaste, but they’ve only been doing stuff like this for a few weeks, so every little touch gets Dean’s heart pounding. He slides a hand up into Cas’ hair and nudges forward to deepen the kiss, but Cas chuckles and pulls back slightly.
“Later,” he murmurs, letting his lips brush Dean’s as he speaks, “I’ll show you how I really feel.”
Dean can’t even dwell on being upset anymore, not while he has to hide a boner as they leave the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Turns out Elphaba actually has a really cool outfit, and Dean spends the week cobbling together the dark, tattered-looking dress from various scraps of old Men of Letter outfits. He does concede the acquisition of the pointed witch hat to Sam, who returns triumphant from a trip to Spirit Halloween with the hat and green face paint for Jack — and a David Yaeger mask for Dean. That earns him an extra-tight backslapping brother hug, and several days of jumpscares that lead to Sam confiscating the mask until Halloween.
On the 31st, Jack insists on wearing his costume from the second he wakes up, and he spends the entire day singing and striding around dramatically in his dress. Dean makes sure to tell him how badass he looks.
“Please don’t actually defy gravity when we’re out in public, though,” he reminds him as Jack floats off the couch.
Cas laughs and kisses his cheek.
"Can we watch Wicked when we get home?" Jack asks.
"Sure," Dean says, sewing the final clasp onto the witch's cape. "I gotta learn these songs, after all."
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“papa?” jack said, walking into the living room and going straight to dean’s side of the couch. “I think it’s time.”
dean immediately sat up, nudging cas back out of his arms and moving on the couch so that jack could sit between them. jack usually went to cas when he needed help, always a call for “dad?” that cas immediately reacted to. but this time, it was something dean knew he could help with.
“time for what?” cas asked, hands settling softly on jack’s shoulder, moving towards jack’s forehead to feel for a fever.
“my tooth,” jack replied, reaching for dean’s hand.
“what?” cas said at the same time dean brushed his thumb across jack’s cheek softly.
with a grin, dean said, “buddy has had a loose tooth for days. think it’s ready for you to lose that first tooth of yours?”
jack nodded eagerly.
“how loose is it? show me those pearly whites,” dean said, peering at jack’s front tooth as the 6 year old wiggled the tooth. “perfect, looks like you’re ready kiddo,” dean said, grabbing one of the tissues from the tissue box he’d deliberately put there that morning specifically for this moment.
dean looked over jack’s head, catching his husbands eyes as cas settled back against the couch cushions, watching the exchange between dean and jack with the fondest smile. giving cas a smile of his own, dean leaned fowards and asked jack, “you’re sure you want me to do this?”
jack nodded again, giving dean that bright smile that was a mirror image of cas’. “I want it to be you,” jack said.
dean felt his heart melt in his chest. “alright, brave little bud. one little tug and it’s over. ready?” once jack gave him a thumbs up, just like he’d done for sam all those years ago, dean gently used the tissue and tugged the tooth, feeling it slide free with ease.
“awesome!” jack cheered, immediately flashing a toothless grin at dean before he turned that smile towards cas. cas smiled back, leaning forwards to press a kiss to jack’s forehead.
“time for you to go back to bed,” cas said, moving up from the couch and catching jack’s hand.
“what about my $2?” jack said, batting innocent eyes at dean.
“I’ll discuss it with the tooth fairy,” dean said, sneaking a quick kiss against cas’ cheek before grabbing jack’s other hand. “c’mon, your dad said bedtime.”
jack hummed happily all the way back to the bedroom as dean and cas tucked him back into bed. “good night dad, good night papa,” jack mumbled sleepily.
“good night sweetheart,” cas replied, dropping a kiss to jack’s forehead again.
“good night brave lil rockstar,” dean said, kissing jack on the cheek and walking out the bedroom with cas by his side.
but instead of walking them back to the living room, cas gently bumped dean into their own room and he softly kissed dean then and there in their doorway.
“what was that for?” dean asked, chasing cas’ mouth in another kiss.
cas smiled, sweet and beautiful, as he murmured, “I always knew you’d be a good dad.”
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