A/N: For the time being this is a one shot, but I intend to add more to this 'verse.

This 'verse is pretty much just going to be fluff and not much angst. Just the boys embracing a quiet life of domesticity...Consider yourself warned!

Written for this prompt at the SPN Kink Meme: . ?replyto=34506895

Dean approached the house he shared with his brother and Cas, carefully tucking his prize into his leather jacket. It had been a while since the world didn't end. And then continued to not end. It hadn't been that long since Dean, Sam and Cas had retired from hunting and moved into a house in the country. Away from people, angels, and everything supernatural. At least that was the idea; Dean still had trouble with the thought of putting all that behind them. But for the first time in a long time Sam and Cas at least were content, even happy. Sam thought they had earned this, Cas thought it was for the best since, between the three of them, they had helped start the apocalypse as many times as they had stopped it. Dean was just happy to have the people he cared about safe.

It was a nice house, with a front walk and a porch, there was even a garden. It still seemed surreal to him that he was living in a house with a garden.

The front door creaked as he opened it, and he made a note to himself that he needed to fix it. He still found it incongruous, after a life of violence and fear, that now he was concerned with creaky hinges.

He found Cas curled up on the sofa in the living room reading with rapt attention. Cas had taken to reading every chance he got. He was enthralled with human stories, and he was even starting to get cultural references. Sometimes, anyway. He still looked confused about half the time, but he was getting better.

Dean leaned over the back of the sofa, leaning forward to look over Cas' shoulder, "What ya' reading Little Bird?"

Cas jumped and looked back, briefly guilty, then straightened himself, the guilt resolving into a look of indignation. "Dean, you should not refer to me like that, I am an Angel of the Lord."

"Uhhuh, whatever you say Angel. You know you're cute when you pretend to be offended."

Much to Castiel's consternation, Gabriel let slip that Cas was the last angel their Father had ever created, making him the youngest of the Angelic Host. After that Dean took to calling him "little bird" since he was the littlest angel of all. Castiel pretended to hate the name, but Dean knew he loved it.

Dean flopped down next to his angel on the sofa, taking the book from Cas' hand to look at the cover. Cas made an indignant sound, but made no real attempt to get the book back.

Dean was not surprised to see Cas was reading one Carver Edlund's – Chuck Shurley's – Supernatural books. Despite explicit warnings from Sam and Dean the prophet had started publishing again. Dean had been less than pleased at first, but really he couldn't get too bent out of shape when he saw how much Castiel loved the books. He had always known Cas loved "the Winchester Gospels" and once the three of them had retired Castiel had taken to reading them, both the older ones and the newly published stories. He had already read through each book several times. Dean had to admit the series had gotten better over time. Chuck had compromised with the Winchesters. He had promised to stop writing about his visions, and instead used the characters to create new and unique storylines. It still felt like a violation, but Dean and Sam had given up the fight, it was probably a losing battle anyway. Becky had gotten involved with Chuck's writing, and there wasn't a power on earth, even the apocalypse it would seem, that could deter Becky once she set her mind to something. She even helped Chuck writer and edit the books. Although, Dean was pretty sure Becky did all the writing while Chuck drank and put his name on the covers. Cas still looked guilty about liking them so much, sometimes. He seemed to think Dean would be upset with his fascination with the books, given how uncomfortable Dean had been with having his life out for public display. But Dean was just happy to see Cas so happy, that after all, was the point of retiring, for them all to be happy for once.

Dean looked down at the book in his hand, surprised to find it wasn't one of the new ones, it was one of the older books, the story of when Castiel dragged Dean from Hell, and what came after.

"Seriously? This is the one your reading Angel, isn't it kind of dark?" and by dark he meant horrifyingly traumatic. It wasn't a time he really wanted to revisit or remember and he was surprised Cas would want to.

Cas just shrugged, a strangely human gesture. "I like this one; it makes me appreciate how far we have all come." Dean couldn't argue with that, it felt like a life time ago that he had first seen Cas in that old building with Bobby.

Dean set the book down between them, brightening as he remembered what he had come to find Cas for in the first place. "I got you something, Little Bird."

"Dean…" Cas' voice held all the warning of a centuries old immortal being, annoyed at the nickname, the effect was completely ruined by the way Cas tried, and failed, not to smile fondly.

Dean pulled the book out that he had been hiding in his jacket, holding it out to the angel. Cas' eyes widened in surprised. He lit up with pleasure as he took the book, looking it over almost reverently.

"This is…" he looked back up at Dean, who nodded, feeling entirely pleased with himself. He had gotten a copy of the newest Carver Edlund Supernatural book for Cas.

"But it isn't even out yet, according to the newsletter it won't be published for another two months." Dean was aware, Cas had been counting down the days til the new one came out.

"I talked to Chuck, got him to give me an advance copy. I can be very persuasive," he smiled roguishly at Cas. "Go on, Little Bird" he said gesturing to the book. Cas was so pleased he didn't even bother pretending to mind the nickname. Dean put his arm around Cas' shoulder, and the angel leaned into him, opening his new book to the first page.

Dean leaned back, smiling to himself. He could get used to this.