ALL DANNEEL AND GEN HATERS ARE FUCKING TOXIC! //MEGSTIEL IS TOXIC #ANTIMEGSTIEL // ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ I'm a massive Destiel and Cockles shipper/ I've met Rob and Misha on 12/2 at Sfcon17. Met Jensen on 8/26 at Charlottecon/ antisastiel and antimishalecki, antiWincestiel, antiMegstiel, antiDeonna, antiChestervelle, antiDebriel, antiDenny, antiDean and Lisa, antiDean and Anna and more "ships" that I absolutely hate/ I like Jared Padalecki/ I adore Gen and Danneel/ I LOVE MISHA/CAS WITH ALL MY HEART/ antiBriannaBuckmaster/antiDonnaHanscum/Claire Novak is annoying/ MEG MASTERS WAS/IS A MASSIVE MANIPULATIVE CUNT antiRachelMiner // I DO NOT MISS CROWLEY/ I HATE LUCIFER, BENNY, MARY WINCHESTER ECT, ECT, ECT../ I absolutely fucking hate J2 tinhatters/Bibros cause they're TOXIC PIECES OF SHITS?!?!/ ALL MEGSTIELS SHIPPERS ARE TOXIC AS SHIT!?/ I'M PRO BOTTOM!DEAN AND TOP!CAS/SWITCHING
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An Idiot's Guide to a Successful Love Confession in Two Words or Less

Tags: Destiel, Angst and Fluff, Season 15, Love Confessions, Explicit
Length: 3.7k
“I’ll never stop being impressed with the way he makes his guitar talk.”
Dean blinked, suddenly aware that he’d zoned out. He turned from the paint-chipped motel window and empty, rain-sodden parking lot to look back at Cas. Settled now in the middle of the right queen bed, faded flower comforter barely holding its own in the dim room light. Three hours they’d been holed up in that motel without a word, and, apparently, Dean still couldn’t keep up.
“You what?” he asked halfheartedly. But Cas didn’t react. He had both earbuds in and eyes on his lap as he turned something over in his hands. He wasn’t listening. The comment was for the empty room, apparently. Not Dean.
And why would it be?
They’d barely said two words to each other since Cas had come home again. And even then, Cas’ adamant declaration (in not so many words) that he wasn’t gonna give his life up just because Dean wanted to crawl up his own ass and die in existential nihilism had merely earned him a “Fine, whatever” instead of the apology he was due. Because…
There was no fixing this with an apology. Not when the real issue was Dean and all the shit he hadn’t said rather than the few things he had. But that’d only happened because it was impossible to say, “Okay, listen. You’re right. These things I’ve been blaming you for, they’re not your fault. The real problem is me. It’s me, and the fact that I fell in love with you at some point along the way” But—
“I can’t let that mean anything because this whole Chuck thing has screwed me up so royally, I can’t even be sure who I am anymore” And—
“Even if I knew, I have no idea if you’d ever want… that” Except—
“On the off chance you did, you still gotta understand, I don’t know how to do this; this ‘you an’ me’ thing, because I’ve got one foot in the closet, and I’ve tried like hell to get it out, but I don’t know if I can, so there’s no way I’d land perfect 10s in every social situation. You gotta know, I don’t want to hurt you like that, but I’d probably hurt you like that” Because—
“Truth is, I’m more scared to screw us up than I am to lose you” Except—
“That’s a fucking lie because I’m so goddamn terrified to lose you, Cas— ”
So, now they were at an impasse. No solution in sight. The air between them so stuffed up with un-said’s, that they were practically choking on ‘em. The quiet of every room and stilted space in every conversation highlighted it. Amplified it:
“You, uh, talk to the sheriff?”
“Yes, he suspects the mortician.”
“Well, that means it’s clearly the Sheriff.”
“I… agree.”
“Then, great. We agree.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
One too many hunts like that, and, pretty soon, their relationship was gonna be dripping, bloody; nothing left except knotted muscles as good as stone. Dean didn’t want that. But, no matter how many times he tried to fix it—in person, in prayer. Hell, over voicemail—just start simple: I WAS WRONG—nothing ever stuck, because it was all too big. Or Dean was too small.
No, he scrubbed a hand down his face. What it is, is too fucking honest.
God, he just needed to breathe—
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Hope all of your stockings are stuffed with candies and enough presents under your tree to block its view.
Happy Holidays.
@jenabean75 @magnificent-winged-beast @mcinspires @thatsnotwhoifuckingam @soft-misha @julesthequirky @ain-t-bovvered @malevolent-dean @silvie111 @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @bamcrux @angvlicmish @aprildecker-blog @elocinmuse @justanearth-boundmisfit and everyone else
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