forthedog | (no subject)

When the sun sets, they light the torches.

It's nothing large, nothing much besides a standard barbecue - which had been insisted upon. There's a grill hot and a fire burning in the pit, and the marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate the girls had begged for are laid out on the long folding table with the rest of the food. Multiple coolers are fully stocked and the smell of smoke and cooking meat floats deliciously through the air.

In truth, a lot of this is Mack and Flo's doing, insisting on a real birthday party because not having one is some kind of unbearable abomination. So there's cake - chocolate - and there are even some balloons, and the girls - with help - have flung streamers haphazardly into some of the smaller trees. They're very pleased with themselves. Daddy may not care hugely about this, but it's the principle of the thing, and Daddy's opinion ultimately doesn't matter much.

Which is fine. As far as Mike is concerned this isn't even necessarily just a birthday party. It's a last goodbye to another summer, which feels like an achievement in itself. So in the flickering torchlight, with the moon rising through the trees, everyone is welcome.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Castiel has been eyeing the grill. It is Dean's responsibility to pick the grill they will register for and to 'man' the grill but he would still like to learn. He could at least learn to grill vegetables in hopes that they might entice Dean more than any of his less successful attempts.

"Hello Mike, Happy Birthday," he announces, raising his eyes to give a proper greeting. "Congratulations on being forty. My vessel is also forty. It is not all that old, in the grand scheme of things."

"Yeah, I don't even know how old I actually am." He flashes a grin, gives Castiel's shoulder a brief squeeze. "Either way, I didn't think I'd still be here now."

He nods at the grill. "What's so interesting?"

"Dean is much the same, as far as age goes," he says, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to reciprocate the gesture.

"The grill, Dean wants one. I thought we might register for one, for the wedding. It is all we really want as neither of us feels comfortable asking for multiple gifts. Perhaps we can get one and then make food at the wedding."

"You wanna be worrying about feeding people at your own wedding?" He arches a brow. He can actually see how that might appeal to some, but. "Unless you get someone else to deal with that for you. Pretty great present, though. We'd kick in."

"Dean wants to do it," he explains with a serious nod. "I think it appeals to some sort of male, provider instinct. Also, the wedding will be a casual affair and we want to thank our guests by feeding them meat."

"Yeah, Dean is a male provider," he says, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Well, if you wanna feed us meat, I'm sure as he'll not gonna try to stop you." He nods over at Neil, who has both twins practically wrapped around his legs. "We didn't even have an actual wedding, second time around. I get wanting it casual."

"Oh," he breathes, frowning as he realizes he did not know that. "Did you want to? Have a wedding, I mean? You could have made your friends buy you a present."

"Nah, we did the whole wedding thing the first time around. Seemed like kind of a lot to go through it all again." Which is part of the truth. A relatively small part. He's not going to talk about the disease, about slamming his fist into the side of Neil's face, about looking down the barrel of Dean's gun. About the sheer terror of those days and what it drove him to.

They're better left out of this.

"It was... it was kind of a rough time, anyway. I didn't really have many friends."