Family Don't End With Blood /Destiel//Sabriel//Michifer

Movies Make Moments

Friday afternoon faded pleasantly into a sunny Saturday morning: congregations of birds holding last-minute assemblies to bask in the presence of the unexpected heat.

Sat behind the wheel of his beloved Impala, Dean cruised leisurely over the joined strips of shimmering tarmac that seemed to materialise before him. He smiled and flicked on the radio. Then, as the music began to trickle from the speakers, he cranked up the volume.

No one protested.

Bonuses of ditching your siblings at the cinema, he thought with a grin, no one to bitch about the noise.

With that in mind, and Cas' house just around the corner, Dean relaxed further back into his seat and pushed down the accelerator.

~~

"What about this one?" 

Dean Winchester stood in the centre of Cas' darkened room, holding up a copy of It and giving a grin that, scarily, matched the one of the clown depicted on the front.

Though the curtains had been partially drawn, both in habit and hope of shadowing the presence of mess, light still stumbled into the room: picking out the jumpers and cardigans that occupied the majority of the unmade bed, and illuminating the right side of the Winchester's face.

"That looks terrifying, Dean," Cas protested, "We're not watching that."

The DVD was placed reluctantly back on the shelf. Seconds later, Dean was already thumbing through the next row of films, pulling overly dramatic faces of disgust ever time he came across a romance.

"Alright, what about this one?" He held up The Woman In Black.

"You like horror movies," Cas sighed, "Fine. We can watch it, but I get creeped out very easily." 

Dean chuckled. "So do I."

Cas tilted his head to the side, the same way he did whenever he failed to understand something.  "Then why—"

"Because it's fun. You'll see."

~~

Half an hour later, Cas found himself cuddled up next to Dean Winchester who, rather casually, had an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer under the blanket they were sharing.  The room was now even darker than before, the curtains having been completely closed.

Cas was now regretting everything that had led to his present situation.

He had been thoroughly annoyed with himself when he'd practically jumped into the older boy's arms after what had been a classic jump-scare. With all the creaky floor boards and dimly lit rooms, Cas must have been blind not to see it coming.

As soon as he had found himself in the semi-familiar territory of Dean Winchester's arms, Cas had tried to subtly slide away.

Too late. 

For a moment, Cas found himself hating everything about the boy beside him; the way he lounged so casually across the bed as if it his own, the way he barely seemed to stiffen at a shriek or a shifting shadow, and the way he was holding Cas. He was holding him as if it were the most natural thing in the world: his face, lit occasionally by the TV, never showing any sign of a blush or hint of expression towards anything other than the movie.

Cas had found himself stubbornly comfortable just where he was.

Now, determined not to be distracted, the Novak watched as old toys started coming alive on screen.