deancasbigbang:

Title: The Everyman’s Monomyth
Author: iblamemisha
Artist: lostloona
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Dean/Cas, background Sam/Eileen
Wordcount: 22000
Warnings/Tags: Domestic Destiel, Married Destiel, Family Drama, canonical minor character death, Angst, Suspense, Homophobia, Secrets, Referenced Child Abuse, Family Fluff
Posting: 10/18/2018

Summary:

“Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” And so it is in the case of Dean and Castiel, who’ve settled into a comfortable, happy marriage, budding careers in academia, and a plan for their life and success in all things: Work, love, raising a family…

Until Castiel’s long-lost nephew shows up on their doorstep one night after the death of his mother, and Cas is forced to deal with a family he thought he’d left behind and a heavy load of memories he’d buried years before.

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“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean didn’t know the ASL sign for “fucking” so he made sure to emphasize the word on his lips because he wanted to make damn sure Eileen digested the full gravity of his exasperation. “That’s horrible!”

“I’m horrible. You’re horrible. It’s why we play this game,” Eileen retorted with a far-too-innocent shrug of her shoulders as she took her turn to reach for a black card.

“She’s cheating! Sam knows which cards are hers,” he whined, turning in his seat to aim an imploring gaze at his husband in the next chair, but gesturing over his shoulder at the younger Winchester and his bride.

“I’m nearly certain he does. Just as I usually have a fairly good idea which cards are yours.”

Dean’s brow creased. “But you don’t usually pick mine.”

“That’s because your answer isn’t always the best.”

“…But I’m your husband.”

“And I play fair.”

“I–”

Sam waved a hand at them and said, “All right, all right, settle down or get a room,” before indicating to Eileen to proceed with the next hand.

Just as she was laying out the card, the doorbell rang upstairs. Their argument fell aside as playful banter and Dean and Cas exchanged a confused glance. In unison, they shrugged, and Cas threw down his answering white card after just a second of indecision before standing to go answer the door.

As he climbed the stairs from the lower-level family room where they’d been playing, he gave a thought to whether he should grab something that could feasibly function as a weapon. It was after 10:00 on a Saturday night, they were all a bit drunk, and they certainly weren’t expecting anyone.

He settled instead for keeping his phone palmed, with easy access to the “emergency call” button in case he had to dial 911 in a hurry.

But as he reached the top of the stairs, rounded through the kitchen and to the living room, and looked out on the front step through the pushed-aside curtains of their big picture window, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and quickly unbolted the door. “…Jack?”