Epilogue – 4 Weeks Later

Dean grinned widely when he walked into the bookshop and immediately spotted Castiel standing on a stepladder. The dark-haired man was facing away from the store entrance, the sleeves of his Egyptian-blue t-shirt rolled to his elbows as he finished installing an overhead light fixture in the ceiling. A couple weeks ago, Dean had convinced Castiel to update the décor of his bookshop in hopes of brightening the space and attracting more customers.

At the moment, the only one who was experiencing any sort of attraction was Dean.

Dean snuck up behind the man and slapped his ass through the gray jean material of his pants. Hard. Castiel yelped and wobbled precariously until he managed to regain his balance enough to whirl around and confront his attacker.

"Dammit, Dean! Do you mind?"

"Not one bit," Dean chirped as he continued blatantly staring at Castiel's backside. He gave a sheepish, apologetic smile, however, when Castiel continued to glare at him.

"So. You just 'bout done with the new lights, then?"

"Yes," Castiel replied as he stepped back down to ground level. "And as much as it pains me to say so . . . the store really does look much more pleasing to the eye."

Dean pouted at him dramatically. "You should trust me more. I have awesome ideas."

Okay, so maybe he couldn't take all the credit for those cloth clouds strung above the children's section (thank you, Pinterest) but the children's section had been his personal project for weeks, after all, and it alone was the pride and joy of the independent bookshop—especially since a number of students still came over for reading time three days a week.

In addition to the clouds—and a bright yellow sun—hanging from the ceiling, Dean had also built several small, collapsible tents for kids to curl up and hide in while they read. On one of their dates (yes, they finally went on a friggin' date), Castiel had mentioned that as a child, he liked to hide in linen closets or under a pile of pillows because the small, hidden spaces made him feel safely closed off from the world. So, Dean figured that there were plenty of other weird little introverts running around that wouldn't mind having their own hobbit holes to duck into.

Dean had also polished the shelves, removed scratches from all of the reading tables, laid down new and brightly colored rugs, and painted a mural on one wall. After two weeks, Dean was pretty certain he qualified to be a Property Brother, but he didn't mind putting in the extra work each day. Each day meant he got to see more of Castiel, and that he got to see Castiel happy.

The day the mural was finished had been a particularly momentous occasion. Dean had stepped back, covered in splashes of color, to reveal a large picture of a luscious, green garden beneath an azure sky full of billowing clouds. In the sky were painted dozens of kites of reds and yellows and purple stripes and orange checks. The image had been inspired by a time when Castiel had confessed that his idea of heaven was watching kites soar on a pleasant, spring day. The painting hade made Castiel so happy that Dean was unable to walk properly for a week following.

Speaking of which . . .

"So what are you doing here, Dean? Other than to harass me."

Dean snorted. "Please. You're no angel, Cass."

Castiel arched a brow. "Says the man who has been a relentless pain in my ass for the last six weeks."

"Excuse me, but you're the one who's been a pain in my ass. Lit-er-ally."

Castiel flashed him a feral smile and suddenly Dean thought it was a very, very smart idea to flee. He sprinted for the doorway, but only got three steps before Castiel tackled him to the floor.

He was going to have a fugly rug burn on his chin in the morning, he just knew it.

"Did you say something about your ass?" Castiel teased, licking the shell of his ear. Damn that little trick; it never failed to coax a shiver from him.

"Cass, can we at least make it someplace with a bed? Please? Besides, I have two fresh pieces of cherry pie waiting for us in the car."

"Hmm, good idea. We can use the filling."

"CASS," Dean gasped against the floor. He was quickly hoisted up as Castiel eagerly pushed him toward the door. "Wait, don't you need to close up?"

Castiel grunted in frustration. "Sam's a big boy, he can handle twenty more minutes by himself."

"You two'd better reimburse me for my therapy sessions."

They ignored Sam, tumbling out to the Impala where Castiel showered Dean with surprisingly soft kisses. When he pulled away, it was with that small, affectionate smile that said everything that Dean felt too awkward to say, and too embarrassed to hear. It was the smile that brightened his day and made all the dusting and crafting and playing Dino-Taxi to sticky kids completely and utterly worth it.

Castiel drew his finger from one of the Styrofoam containers and painted a small, red glob of filling on Dean's nose, which he promptly licked off with a kittenish swipe of his pink tongue.

"Mmm, tasty," the man hummed with his blue eyes closed. "I can't wait to eat that out of your ass when we get home."

Dean may have gone over the speed limit a bit, but no one needed to know.

Elvis