𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑.

─────────────── A LITERATE PORTRAYAL OF 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 ─────────────── (canon. descriptive.)

... Dude. Best birthday 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫. How the hell am I supposed to top this?

< happy to be… alive (well, dead-alive). Too much to lose, and this time, there was no way to lose it. Hell, he was good.

< I’m talking about.” After living a life of chaos and day-to-day crazy, the simple stuff was more than enough to — well, Christ, the more that he thought about it, it was more than enough to make him happy. He was happy. Happy to be here, >

< awesome. Not that they’d tried a large variety yet, but pie and beer were the lion’s share. “Atta boy,” Dean praised through a grin as he watched, with unveiled amusement, as Cas went in for another swig. He chuckled. “𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 what >

Well, Dean was more accustomed to the cheap, 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘱 stuff and usually forgot about taste around the third bottle, but… seeing that he and Cas had similar taste on 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 thus far was pretty freakin’ >

Well, lucky her. His pride’s the part that’s never coming back.

< bar as the delight made itself known on his face. Way better than the cheap stuff he was used to. Not that he was dissing the cheap stuff. If it got the job done, it was good enough for him.

< especially when he had that signature Cas look on his face. In which case, it was totally unfunny. And totally not gonna last. Dean took a swig from his own glass and sucked in through his teeth. The bottom of his palm slapped against the >

< in the glass's 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢. "Come on, Mr. Prohibition. You're not winning any sobriety chips." What, was he going to have to 'here comes the airplane' it? Unless... Cas was pulling some stunt to pull his leg; Dean wouldn't rule it out, >

Cas held the glass up like Dean had just slipped him a fake 20. He stifled the eye roll on that one, because Mr. Boy Scout sure as hell couldn't tell booze from kool-aid, but he folded when Cas started to smell it like some secret awaited >

«said as he filled the glasses, stopping only to look to Cas, “money 𝘤𝘢𝘯 buy happiness.” He slid the glass across the the bar. “And that right there... is liquid bliss.”

«awfully fitting. He set out two glasses and, classy as ever, went straight for the top-shelf (his bar, his rules — especially in the absence of dinero). “Sit,” he said, waving a finger at a stool. “Now, contrary to popular belief,” he»

«“We’re forgetting the best part.” He suddenly pivoted on his feet, and — you guessed it — rounded the bar. “I say it’s time we give this baby a 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘯.” Not that booze required a celebration, but... on this occasion it seemed»

«let it linger, savoring a moment they’d have an eternity to re-make, until some imaginary light bulb popped over Dean’s head and he drew back. Grin still wide, his hands came down on Cas’s shoulders, giving him the green-light to step back.»

When they parted, Dean wasn’t able to hold back that slap-happy grin — nothing hid beneath it, ‘cause it didn’t matter. Not in Heaven, where self-hate and doubt didn’t grow on planet Dean like monster weeds. His forehead met Cas’s, and he»

< carried a certain heaviness, as if he were leaning into a touch. Too long. It'd been too long.

< them. Damnit, now that he had, this was forever -- as in 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. So he closed the gap between them, that damn gap that was metaphorical 𝘢𝘯𝘥 literal, and he kissed Cas again, slow. His eyes were shut, but they >

< friggin' blue that seemed to feel even deeper this time around. Now that he 𝘩𝘢𝘥, he could take Cas's tie in his hand and wrap it around his knuckle; he could draw Cas close and tilt his head, chasing his lips, but not quite meeting >

< had, personal space didn't feel so necessary anymore. In fact, after all they'd been through -- all the years they didn't get, it felt like a crime. As if by instinct, his eyes moved down to Cas's lips, before returning back to that deep >

If Dean's hesitance was gone, then Cas's sure as hell was, too. Green followed blue as Cas moved forward, stopping only when his back met the marble of his -- that's right, his -- bar. Son of a bitch. Now that he had? Well, now that he >