Day 7 - Domestic
The moment you feel at home is when you start decorating the house. Dean had been repeating this to Sam ever since they had officially established their headquarters in the Men of Letters bunker. First of all, he began by displaying his favorite weapons in his room: his sawed-off shotgun, the machete he had made in Purgatory, a grenade launcher, his father’s fighting knives, his first stake… Quickly, the souvenir albums had left Baby’s trunk to weigh down the drawers of his bedside table.
Sam ended up imitating him by putting his clothes in the closet first, then his computer pouch in the desk, and finally he ended up storing countless books and tapes in boxes by his bed. Dean had obviously taken over the kitchen as quickly as possible and built his famous "Dean Cave" while Sam could spend whole nights devouring every book in the library or archives.
Castiel had also inherited a room — although it was rarely occupied — and was particularly fond of the calm of the infirmary, watching over one of the two brothers when necessary. Jack, for his part, was in the only house he had ever known and cherished every wall in this underground lair.
However, everyone agreed that the refrigerator was undoubtedly their favorite part of the bunker. The Men of Letters' was not a simple American fridge with two doors, nor even a fridge with a minibar option. No, their refrigerator was absolutely gigantic, with several doors dug directly into the wall and at least two meters of metal in width.
Of course, the food gets everybody to agree —especially when Dean felt like making his own handmade burgers— but that wasn’t the only reason this family was particularly fond of the fridge. It was not so much what was in it that found grace in their eyes, but what was on it.
The first person to hang anything on it was Sam. Tired of having to repeat to his brother to buy vegetables, he had then written a precise shopping list before hanging it with a magnet on the door containing the beers, certain that Dean would fall face to face with it before the end of the day. In response, Dean had hung another post-it on a lower door saying, "Here, rabbit man."
Soon after, Jack felt confident enough to hang one of his drawings, then another. Castiel had happily added the menu of this Chinese restaurant on the outskirts of Lebanon where the Winchesters loved to order after finishing a case. Dean had pinned a few handwritten recipes and Sam was again the first to put a picture of the four of them in the library, playing board games. Months later, Dean solemnly hung his wedding announcement with Castiel below the date of their first kiss, lovingly scribbled on a piece of paper. Little by little, the fridge was filled with memories and post-it notes, a fresco of their lives spread out among the gates of the metal surface.
It was past midnight when Sam decided to have a pick-me-up to continue his search among the archives. He proceeded as usual to his reserved part of the refrigerator when a bright yellow post-it attracted his attention. He knew every photo on this fridge so well that the slightest new element was now popping into his eyes and he came closer to read what it was saying.
"I’m sorry. Can we talk?"
It was definitely Dean’s handwriting. Sam frowned, the cogs of his brain creaking in his head. He hadn’t had a fight with his brother recently, it was barely if he’d seen him for the last two days. Jack had been on vacation with Jody since the beginning of the week and Castiel had left the bunker for… oh.
Dean and Castiel had a fight five days ago. Sam had not really understood the reason for the argument, the two of them shouting at each other behind closed doors before they remained silent for hours. This was the reason why Dean had been locked up in his room since Tuesday and that Castiel only came back from time to time to wander like a lost soul before leaving for an indefinite period. This message was therefore not addressed to him, Sam realized. It was a cry for help from his brother to Castiel. Although the angel did not need to drink or eat, it was true that he particularly liked to look at the refrigerator whenever he could as a reminder of why he called this place "his home".
Sam pinched his lips and decided not to interfere. It was something between his brother and his best friend and he would be there if they asked him for support, but not before. Although troubled, Sam grabbed a beer and a few cherry tomatoes before leaving the kitchen.
To his surprise, the first post-it did not stay on the refrigerator very long. The following day he had been replaced by a note written with much more careful writing despite the austerity of the words.
"You said everything you had to say and so did I."
A cold anger sweated in Castiel’s words. Sam was still in the kitchen when Dean made his entrance, heading for the food first as usual. He was also present when his brother’s eyes fell on the note and he froze to read it in silence. A few seconds later, Dean unpinned the post-it before wrinkling it and throwing it in the trash. He returned to his room without even getting the breakfast he had come to fetch.
"I’m an idiot. Please pick up your phone." Said the following note three days later accompanied by a photo of Dean and Castiel wearing reindeer antennas for Christmas that they had celebrated with family two years earlier. Sam recognized Dean’s trembling hand behind every word.
Sam soon found himself opening the refrigerator more often than usual simply to find out how his brother and Castiel were progressing in their fight, worried about each one of them. Dean was still as silent as a tomb about it and he hadn’t seen Castiel for a week now. Whatever happened between them, it was by far the longest argument the couple has had to date.
Dean’s last note remained unanswered.
When Sam opened the fridge door one morning to take milk, the post-it had been replaced by another still written by Dean.
"Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, Elton John"
Sam could not help a small smile from appearing on his face. Dean had always been more gifted with music than words, but the mere fact that he chose Elton John showed something fragile and sincere. Sam hoped Castiel would get the hint. Just below this post-it was pinned a photo of their fingers intertwined, the bright wedding rings to their fingers, as well as a large black feather.
Indeed, the next day, Dean’s note was still there, but this time accompanied by a second piece of paper with an address.
"716 E Montana Ave, 1312, Baker. Room 17. You’re the One that I Want, Grease."
Not more than an hour later, Dean had gathered his belongings and was already finding an excuse to Sam when this one cut him off. They exchanged a look which they alone knew the secret before Dean nodded and fondly patted his shoulder. The next minute, the Impala’s engine was growling in the garage before moving away, leaving Sam free to go and have breakfast with Jack in the kitchen.
When Dean returned two days later, it was with Castiel next to him and a weight off their shoulders. Sam sent them a simple, gentle smile before going to hug his brother and Castiel. When he got up to bring them beers, he noticed that the post-its had not left the refrigerator. However, no one ever removed them afterwards.
The family simply added other memories as life slowly resumed in the bunker.
* * *
@winchester-reload
Hi! Here’s a short one for today with my favorite couple. Please, let me know if you enjoyed it!
You can find the whole series on Ao3
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