noxemma

[noxemma]

This would also be great as Demon/fallen angel!Cas (maybe disillusioned with Heaven, like fell because he loved humanity more than even God did?) and all the other angels are trying to get Dean to play along but Cas, still presenting as an angel maybe, is trying to tempt him away from heaven’s plan (only he actually ends up falling for the kind, righteous man who weirdly seems fond of him even when he’s not trying to lure him away from the ‘Righteous Path’) and then Cas starts to feel bad because Dean is just like a really good guy. He’s not starry-eyed by heaven, he has doubts and he’s just trying to do right by the people he cares about. And Cas’ rebellion suddenly shifts from ‘mad at Heaven and God’ to ‘protect this man from the machinations of the celestial at all costs’

AKA Cas is both the angel and the devil on Dean’s shoulders (mostly because he’d probably hiss and bite anyone else)

It could even be cool to have his angelic form that he uses to try and persuade Dean with to be too bright to look at. So Dean gets torn between the angel that’s watching over him and the endverse-like demon who tempts him (also would just be funny to have exasperated moose be like “see! You fell for a demon too!” And Dean’s like “well technically he’s a fallen angel sooooooo I’m still better”)

I had a thought

In typical reverse AUs, Angel Dean raises Castiel from perdition

What if instead, Dean is a demon who pulls Castiel out of heaven to help him find his brother

A Demon, defying the king of hell's plan to infiltrate heaven and "corrupt the faithful man", instead kidnaps Castiel, in turn kick starting a war between heaven and hell and the apocalypse

Just a thought

[noxemma]

loving you is like riding a bicycle

Rated E, Dean/Castiel, Post 13x05 Advanced Thanatology

Cas had just annoyed a cosmic entity so much that it threw him out. Now he was back in the bunker to reconnect with recently-born-almost-adult Jack. So Cas did the most reasonable thing and went to find the recently de-widowed Dean in his room to ask him for parenting advice.

Excerpt:

Cas tilted his head, puzzled. "Riding a bike?" Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah. Bobby gave me some busted old bike from the yard when I was around… I must have been around twelve I think. I remember it now. Sammy wanted to ride a bike so bad because he wanted to impress this girl in his class. I didn't know how to ride a bike, John never taught us." Cas listened intently as Dean continued. "Bobby was really angry when he heard Sammy couldn't ride a bike, so he took me aside one day and put me on this crappy, rusted thing of a bike. Said that we were gonna fix it together and then I'm gonna learn how to ride that damn thing. Then we're gonna teach your brother. So we did it." "I'm sure you were a fast learner," Cas said. Dean shook his head, scoffing fondly at the memory. "Hell no. Not in this case at least. I was so afraid of losing my balance. Bobby had to push me and I kissed the ground as soon as I realized he let go. Truly embarrassing. Don't you ever tell Sammy about any of this," Dean pointed his finger at Cas as a warning. Cas motioned zipping his mouth closed. "I swear I won't mention your ground kissing skills to your brother." "You better not. I acted like a natural. He would never let me live that down." Cas looked thoughtful, considering this. "I never learned how to ride a bike." Dean blinked. "Seriously?" "There was never an occasion," Cas replied deadpan. "Alright then," Dean chuckled. "Guess we'll start with the basics then."

Keep reading on AO3

[noxemma]

So who is Dean calling 👀 Art based on this poll 💕

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[noxemma]

my body, tearfully: when sleep???

me: my dude we just woke up!! It’s time for wakefulness and doing things and Productivity

my body, weeping: but???? when sleep?????

[noxemma]

Like I said, it is a WIP so I can’t promise the rest of it is as good (tbh this is the scene I had in mind when I first started writing it so the rest is kind of getting to this point 😅🫣) but I do have a few chapters up: The Art of Seduction via Pie

@colorlessjay @lilibean96

Absolutely in love with your drawing of Dean teaching Cas how to shoot! And I aggressively support the headcanon that Dean gets a bit intimate/touchy when teaching Cas new things.

I have a WIP fic on AO3 where human/mostly human Cas goes to Sam for Valentine’s Day advice and spills that his crush is on a man (bc Sam is like “why are you asking me and not Dean?”) Dean finds out and gets a little hurt that Cas wouldn’t think he’d support him or would judge him for liking a guy and overcompensates by trying to help Cas have a perfect Valentine’s date, which of course includes teaching Cas how to make this mystery guy that Cas has a crush on (who weirdly sounds a lot like Dean, not that Dean’s jealous or anything) a pie or, as Dean calls it “The Art if Seduction via Pie”

Long story short: I thought you might enjoy this snippet of it/your drawing reminded me of this part where Dean gets a little cozy teaching Cas how to roll out pie crusts

——— Cas

“Dean,” Cas says his name slowly while turning to face the man who is waiting patiently for him.

“Cas?” Dean teases him back with the same slow draw of his name.

“You must be exhausted. We really don’t have to make the pie, if you don’t want too. I’m sure that-”

“Hey! None of that! I’m good, and it’s just downright rude for you to think I’d break a promise, especially to you, and even more especially about pie,” Dean teases, but there’s something heavier in the words that Cas doesn’t have time to try and decipher before Dean barrels on, “Now, I’ve already unpacked the groceries, so let’s get this show on the road before I pass out.”

Cas opens his mouth to protest that no pie is worth Dean’s health, but he’s stopped by the sharp look Dean gives him. Instead, he obediently follows as Dean leads the way into the bunker.

The silent walk toward the kitchen gives Cas’ mind the time to begin processing some of Dean’s words.

Groceries? That means we stopped at some point, but he didn’t wake me. Then he let me sleep until the last moment while he unpacked. He has sacrificed time, sleep, and money so I can have a good, nonexistent, date.

Sudden warmth and pressure press against his eyes and chest as love for Dean washes over his whole being. It’s so overwhelming that he misses the next step down on the stairs and noisily flails to regain his balance.

“Dude, you okay? You sure you didn’t get a concussion? Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have let you sleep,” Dean mutters as he turns around and begins raking his gaze meticulously over Cas looking for nonexistent head wounds.

Cas feels the odd dual urge to preen and squirm under the scrutiny but shakes off both in favor of alleviating Dean’s mounting worry and guilt.

“I’m fine, Dean. I promise. I was still a little groggy from sleeping in the car and missed a step,” He manages despite the feeling still glowing in his chest, hoping Dean mistakes the heat on his neck and cheeks for embarrassment.

“Uh-huh,” Dean says, clearly unconvinced but he continues anyway.

Thankfully they make it to the kitchen without any further issue. Dean begins chatting excitedly about how they need to make the dough first so it can chill but all Cas can focus on is that what he assumes are all the necessary items are already prepared and waiting on the counter. Love threatens to topple him again, energy building in his chest until he’s sure is going to explode at any second. He basks in the warmth until he hears Dean’s excited explanation stop suddenly and get replaced with soft, unsure words.

“Hey, I’m running on empty here, so it took me a bit to realize that maybe… maybe you might not really want to do this and that’s why you keep asking me about it. I know, I know I can get stuck on things, but I need you to understand that it’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I can bake something tomorrow or whenever so nothing’s wasted. Seriously, guilt free, if you changed your mind or if it feels too overwhelming right now or for whatever reason; just say the word and I’ll do whatever you want, Cas.”

The feeling flares and thrums painfully, a wild animal caged within his ribs, desperately seeking freedom, howling in outrage at Dean’s doubt and concern. He should say yes, should release Dean from this promise, should let him get some sleep. He should be more like Dean and do the selfless thing for once.

He opens his mouth to lie and say he doesn’t want to bake with Dean, but the pacing beast his chest digs its selfish claws into his tongue, forcing the truth out of his lips instead.

“No! I mean, yes. I want to do this; I want you to teach me how to make a pie. I just- I kept asking you because- I don’t want you to feel … obligated to do all this after, uh, everything.”

“Hah! Dude, this is pie we’re talking about. It’s never an obligation and neither are you,” Dean laughs before going still.

Cas is sure, by the way Dean blinks and opens his mouth that he probably hadn’t meant to say the last part, but he doesn’t make a joke or take it back.

“You know what, I stand by that. Now, as I was saying. The dough has to chill for a bit, so we make that first and then prep the filling while it’s in the fridge. Alright, step one is washing your hands.”

Even though he must be exhausted to his bones, Dean is an excellent and patient teacher. He explains each step to Cas and answers any questions he has. As soon as they get serious about the baking, the tension and unease dissipate and it’s almost as if nothing has changed at all. Dean’s passion and enthusiasm are contagious and intoxicating and Cas finds himself smiling so much his cheeks ache.

Soon enough the dough has been made, split, wrapped in plastic wrap, and set in the freezer to chill.

“Alright, the filling is easier but more tedious,” Dean says as he sets several washed apples onto the metal countertop. “You want to peel or slice?”

Cas considers for a moment, opening his mouth to ask if he can be the one to peel but he sees Dean stifle a yawn into his shoulder, eyes watering with the effort to hide it.

“I’ll slice if you show me how you want them,” Cas answers, wanting to do this one small thing for Dean, and not quite trusting the man not to hurt himself with the sharp blade in his current state of fatigue.

Dean makes quick work of peeling an apple and shows Cas how to core and slice it into thin layers before adding it to the bowl.

They fall into an easy rhythm, both of them doing their tasks and simply enjoying the silence of one another. After a few minutes though a thought pops into Cas’ head and out of his mouth before it fully forms.

“Did Mary or John do this with you? Did they teach you? Is that where your love of cooking and baking comes from?”

Dean blinks at him uncomprehendingly for a few minutes before keeling over with laughter. Cas smiles at the sound, though he’s not sure what he said that Dean could find so humorous. Dean straightens and wipes the tears from his eyes before he replies.

“Nah! Mom was a pretty bad cook and an even worse baker and Dad, uh, he never really had a lot of time for stuff like that. Living on the road with Sam, I started cooking because I kind of had to. Dad wasn’t always there to get us food and there’s only so many sandwiches and canned soups and cereals you can take before you begin to get creative. I must’ve come up with at least a hundred ways to make Mac n’ Cheese exciting. Although, after I resorted to adding marshmallow fluff mix, I decided I needed to learn how to cook real food. So, I started watching cooking shows in motels that had TVs, stealing cookbooks from local libraries, and tearing recipes out of magazines. I’m not sure which pissed my dad off more, the fact that I was wasting my time on such a girly activity or all the inedible food I made in the beginning. But I, I ended up being pretty good at it and soon enough both he, begrudgingly, and Sam were pretty thankful.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas whispers, afraid if he says anymore, says it any louder, the sorrow he feels for how Dean had been forced to grow up would burst the dam of his emotions and spill out in liquid form down his cheeks.

“For what, Cas?” Dean asks, head tilted and appearing genuinely confused, the truth of his childhood so ingrained that he doesn’t see anything wrong with having to provide himself and Sam with meals, with John leaving them for long enough that he had to improvise so many times, with the disdain John had for him trying to learn, trying to better provide for himself and his brother.

“Dean, you must know that you shouldn’t have had to do that. You should have been allowed to learn how to cook because you truly enjoyed it. Not because you needed to, not because you didn’t have an adult who cared for you like they should have, but because you wanted to.”

“Dude, we travelled around with Dad hunting demons, none of that is really conducive to a normal childhood. Do I sometimes wish I’d had a more average upbringing, sure. But then I remember how selfish that would have been, wishing Dad were around more instead of saving other people. So, we all did what we had to do, I learned to take care of Sam and I and Dad saved people. When I think of it like that, it doesn’t really bother me that much anymore.”

Dean must still be able to see the anger storming in his face because he pauses his peeling to squeeze Cas’ arm and say soflty, “Hey, there’s a lot of things that, in a perfect world, should have been, but I’ll only make myself crazy if I think about them too long. And, look, I really do enjoy cooking and baking now, as evidenced by my growing muffin top. In fact, if I liked it any more, you’d probably have to roll me out on hunts.”

Cas rolls his eyes, choosing to let the righteous anger go for Dean’s sake and choosing to address his newest concern, “Dean, please. Your body is in peak condition. And a couple extra pounds would only add to your perfection”

The words slip out and Cas blames it on the spell of intimacy created by standing elbow to elbow with Dean as they work to create something together.

“I, oh, um. Thanks, Cas,” Dean splutters handing Cas one last peeled apple before moving away to get the other ingredients for the filling.

Or in retreat.

“Dean, I-” Cas starts to apologize, worried he’s gone too far.

“Relax, I know it was just a compliment to battle my self-deprecation. I promise I won’t read into it too much. Okay, so now we add the lemon juice, cinnamon, sugar, and flour. And my secret ingredient, which you are sworn to secrecy about by the way, cornstarch. It helps the filling not to get too soggy and holds everything together to make it easier to cut later.”

Cas relents and nods his understanding, some part of him screaming that he wishes Dean would read into his words a bit more, would guess Cas’ feelings and end his misery one way or another.

Finally, the filling is done and Dean sets it to the side, but not before snagging a piece of slathered apple out of the bowl and holding it up to Cas’ mouth in offering.

He’s too stunned to refuse, lips and tongue giving Dean’s fingers the barest brush as he accepts this odd, though welcome, communion.

“Hmm, that it delicious,” Cas breathes, not expounding on what he is referring to.

“Hah, yeah, just wait until it’s baked,” Dean responds, his words a little stilted as he takes a piece for himself.

Cas tries not to notice how he uses the same fingers to feed himself that he’d used for Cas, how he licks the syrupy mixture off those appendages that Cas’ own tongue had touched just seconds ago.

He is still fighting with unholy thoughts of those fingers when Dean returns to his side with the chilled balls from the freezer.

“Okay, now this is the tricky part,” Dean prefaces as he pulls out a silicon mat marked with concentric rings of different measurements. He unwraps the first chunk of dough and places it in the center of the mat.

“You have to roll out the dough to be this size, but it’s important that you do it evenly. If the dough is too thick it won’t bake all the way through, but if it’s too thin it can tear and all that yummy cinnamon sugar and lemon juice syrup we drenched the apples in will leak out of the bottom. Not to mention it will make it a bitch to cut and serve.”

Dean picks up a wooden cylinder with handles, something Cas knows must be for baking but can’t quite place the name of and covers the length of it in flour.

“It’s important to coat the rolling pin as well as the surface you’re rolling on with flour, so the dough doesn’t stick. It’s cold right now so it’s not super sticky but it will get stickier as it warms up. The trick to getting a nice, even pie crust is to be quick and efficient and get it rolled out before the dough warms up.”

Cas nods like he’s following Dean’s instruction when in reality he’s transfixed by how serene and beautiful Dean looks as he firmly but gently presses down on the center of the flattened dough and pushes the rolling pin away from him. After a few strokes he flips and rotates the dough before adding more flour to the pin and repeating the process. When the dough is nearing the ring labeled nine inches, Dean stops and offers the pin to Cas.

“Alright, lover boy, your turn.”

“Dean, I really don’t think I should. I’m sure I’ll mess it up.”

Even as he protests, green eyes draw Cas to the spot Dean had previously occupied in front of the dough. He positions the rolling pin like he’d seen Dean do but he can’t seem to figure out how pick a direction to start moving in.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help,” Dean chuckles, sidling up behind Cas and reaching around him to place his hands atop Cas’ on the rolling pin. He moves their hands confidently, showing Cas the right amount of pressure to apply and how far to roll before turning the dough.

Dean doesn’t appear to be affected by the closeness, but Cas drowns in it. If he had thought the blanket in the Impala was nice, it was nothing compared to the warmth of Dean’s chest against his back, the smell of him enveloping him, his hot breath puffing against Cas’ cheek as he peers around him to see the dough and continues explaining his actions.

Dean

“There, that’s perfect,” Dean whispers, not trusting his voice with more than that as he reluctantly removes his hands from Cas’ and pulls away.

He makes a quick grab for the foil pan he’d buttered earlier to hide how his hands tremble with the effort of letting go.

He shows an oddly quiet Cas how to gently drape the fragile dough over the pan and press it down. They add the filling and Dean has the other ball of dough unwrapped and flattened in the center of the mat before he steps away again.

“You wanna try doing the top?” He asks, nodding encouragingly when Cas hesitates to take up the rolling pin again.

Cas begins, frequently staring up at Dean during the process. He doesn’t do badly, he just doesn’t do great either. It only takes a few uneven passes for him to lock eyes with Dean, his expression clearly screaming help me.

Dean smiles and slides into his earlier position with far too much eagerness. He doesn’t think about all the reasons why he shouldn’t be spooning Cas from behind, why he shouldn’t rest his chin on Cas’ shoulder, why he shouldn’t be breathing praise and encouragement into the angel’s ear. He’s too tired to deny himself this little indulgence while he still can.

Letting go of Cas to place the top crust is harder the second time, in more ways than one, and Dean is grateful for the flannel tied around his waist.

“Alright. Now we slice off any extra and we crimp the edges like this,” Dean demonstrates pressing the top and bottom pieces of dough together and forming the clamshell like shape by pressing the pointer finger of his left hand into the “V” he forms with his right thumb and pointer finger.

He’s about to ask Cas if he wants to try, but the intensity of the man’s eyes on him takes his breath and the thought away and he continues around the edge of the dish until it’s all done. He deftly slices a few vents in the top before retrieving an egg from the fridge and cracking it into a bowl with some water.

“Why do we need an egg? Shouldn’t we have added it before now?” Cas asks making Dean grin like an idiot, more than a little excited that Cas seems to be genuinely interested in the process.

“With any other baking, yes. But this isn’t for the pie itself, it’s for an egg wash. We’re going to use this,” he holds up a basting brush, “to cover the crust.”

“Why?” Cas asks incredulously.

“Taste is important, but presentation is too. This will give the pie a nice, shiny, golden color.”

Dean gets the pie coated and puts it into the oven before turning back to Cas and having to cover his mouth to keep from howling with laughter.

He hadn’t noticed when he was focused on getting the pie made and in the oven, but Cas is absolutely covered in flour. Not just his clothes but a smudge on his face from where he’d wiped it after dusting the rolling pin, in his hair, and even more hilariously, on his backside from where the flour on Dean’s own clothes had transferred.

“Dean?”

“Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry, but we’re kind of a mess,” Dean attempts to explain as he tries to tamp down the hysterical giggles bubbling up in his chest again.

Cas looks down at himself before his eyes bounce back up to Dean’s, mirth welling in them.

They both crack at the same time, loud laughter mingling and filling the kitchen with warmth.

———

hey noxemma

Could you like, put this in A03 so I can Kudos this and recommend it to my friends

Much love, very vibe, will draw later

[noxemma]

Clearly this art is due for a repost. I stand with the trans community now and always. They deserve so much better than this. They matter. This tragic supreme court and its archaic vision for America is on the wrong side of history. I might not be able to stop the star-spangled freight train from derailing, but you can bet your ass I'll keep trying.

[noxemma]

Hey!! Just wanted to let you know I loved reading Steering through the Rearview!! It's super fun and I really like all the references you include in the story!! I hope you have a great day and are doing well, thank you for your hard work!! <3

PS i loved Dean being a proud father/big brother to Sam and also how Cas seems to just adore everything Dean does it's really cute they are so in love <3

Hey! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I add references (probably too many) as a little treat for myself and to see how many I can work in, so I'm glad you're enjoying the little easter eggs too. I have honestly had a rough couple of weeks, but coming back onto this app and seeing an ask like this really does make my day and gives me the motivation to keep writing, so thank you! They are absolutely so in love already, even if they don't know it yet. They are canonically obsessed with each other and I simply love writing them that way and refuse to stop *insert evil laugh*

[noxemma]

I just wanna say that oh my God I'm absolutely head over heels in LOVE with your kidnapped Jack fic, it's so amazing aaaa!! I'm new to tumblr after years of knowing everything about it but not being on the app haha, so it's amazing to find such talented writers straight off the bat. Love your work <3

- Azriel xx

Ah! Thank you, seriously kudos should go to @colorlessjay for the inspiration. I forcibly abducted the idea and ran away with it (kind of like Dean did with Jack, only I didn't return it 😂) I'm also relatively new to the app (I lurked for a solid few months and it's probably taken over a year to actually start writing and posting things like this fic) so yay for newbies and finding cool artists and writers. Speaking of which, @thejukeboxzero also has a wonderful fic going for this very same idea prompt that you should absolutely check out!

[noxemma]

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

--- Sorry this part took so long. I thought I could avoid the AO3 curse by keeping it to tumblr but it hunted me down anyways. I'm still a little burnt out (being primary caretaker for two nonagenarians and still managing a 40hr work week will do that to a person) so I'm sorry if this is a bit shorter and heavier than the previous parts (I promise there will be fluff and regularly scheduled shenanigans in future parts) 🫠 --- Too many emotions swirl in Cas' brain for him to think past simply getting him and Dean away from his family and back to the relative safety and sanctuary of their room. He wants to close the blinds and pull Dean into bed and do his best to travel back in time to this morning when Dean's arms were wrapped around him. He wants to kiss Dean again. He wants to- "Dude, what- What was that?" Dean asks breathlessly, Cas assumes from being dragged down flights of stairs in his rushed escape, not daring to hope it could be from anything else. "What was what?" Cas answers, purposely trying not to understand. Because he knows he'll have to apologize for springing the kiss onto Dean with no warning, especially after he'd been the one to suggest minimal displays of affection in front of his parents and family. And the truth is, he's not sorry at all. Even though the circumstances were not ideal, not one molecule of his being regrets kissing Dean.

Not after he'd defended him in a way no one else had against the doubt he was up against. He hadn't truly even been aware of how heavily his own fears and insecurities about his ability to raise Jack had been weighing on him until Dean had declared, to everyone, how good he was doing. He'd wanted to cry in that moment, had felt lighter than he had in years to have someone, aside from Gabriel who really didn't count, tell him he was doing a good job, that all the stress and strain and worrying was worth it.

"You know what. That, the, uh, the kiss," Dean huffs. "What about the kiss?" Cas stalls again, their footsteps ringing in the stairwell. "I thought- I thought you said you didn't really have much experience-" "I don't," Cas confirms, cutting off the rest of Dean's sentence. "Okay, so, again, what the hell was that?" Cas spares a glance back and sees Dean's fingers pressed to his lip, green eyes burning into him. He gulps and opens his mouth to try and give some kind of explanation. "I, I don't know. I learned that from the pizza man?" "The pizza man?" Dean repeats incredulously. "I- uh," Cas starts, realizing they've stalled somewhere between the penthouse and their floor. "Castiel! Dean! D-damn you two are, are fast," Gabriel wheezes, placing his hands on his knees and gulping air. "Gabriel? You followed us?" "'course I did. Had to- Had to make sure you were okay. And I wanted to thank Dean for standing up for you," Gabriel manages once he's mostly recovered. He turns to Dean. "Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen anyone stand up to them like that. It was truly a pleasure. If you want anything I'd be more than happy to-" "Who the fuck is the pizza man?" Dean blurts not even waiting for Gabriel to finish. "The pizza man?" Gabriel asks in confusion. "We really should get out of this stairwell," Cas says, trying to distract them and cringing when Gabriel's eyes light up. "Gabriel, no!" "The pizza man! God, I almost forgot about that!" "Gabriel, please-" "Back when Cas was a teen and just sort of figuring everything out, he was kind of nosy and too damn curious for his own good. He found my stash of porn tapes and," Gabriel covers Cas' mouth before he can protest again, Cas clawing at his strong grip. "And it was sort of traumatizing to him. You wouldn't believe the questions I had to answer like 'If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep smacking her on the rear?' and 'why didn't the repairman and the pizza man kiss?' I tried to tell him that there's plenty of good porn, he just happened to pick a crappy one, but, well, he was thoroughly traumatized. Pretty sure it's still the only porno he's ever seen. Ouch!"

Cas finally gets desperate enough to bite Gabriel's hand. His brother jerks back with a pout, shaking the wounded limb but Cas just rolls his eyes. "Thank you so much, dear brother, for expounding on my porn preferences, or lack thereof," Cas growls in his direction, though he keeps his eyes focused on the stairs, wondering if Dean would hold it against him if he escaped down them away from the awkward bubble they're now in.

"Bullshit," Dean finally says, "There is no way you learned to kiss like that from just watching a crappy porno." "Well, believe it or not, that's the truth. You're the first person I've ever kissed," Cas huffs. He doesn't understand the edge of hurt and disbelief in Dean's voice and honestly doesn't have the energy to try and figure it out at the present moment. The bed, several more floors beneath him, calls with a siren's voice and all he wants to do is shuck the uncomfortable clothes he'd shoved himself into and hide from the world for a few hours, preferably with Dean. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! That was your first kiss," Gabriel states, eyes darting between Dean and him. "What? Pshh, no, we've just, uh, we've never-" Dean immediately responds, defending Cas yet again, though this time it hurts. Pain makes him go rigid, his lungs brittle.

Dean is lying for me, even when he doesn't seem to trust that I've been honest with him. Perhaps it's not just me then, maybe he's defensive of everyone? Or maybe he just sees me as someone to take care of, like his brother.

The thought is unbearable, so Cas blurts, "Gabriel, we're not actually dating." Two sets of eyes and slack jaws swing his way. "I'll explain, but can we please go back to the room." Neither Dean nor Gabriel objects nor stops him as he begins down the stairs again, only the echo of their footsteps breaking the silence. --- Once the hotel door has shut behind everyone, Cas heaves a sigh of relief and yanks off the button up so he's just in an undershirt and the slacks that will have to do until he's done answering the millions of questions he sees bubbling on his older brother's tongue. "Dean and I met several days ago when he accidentally abducted Jack-" "He what!" "Jack had heard me on the phone describing my fake date to you and Dean was supposed to be picking up his brother at the same corner I asked Jack to meet me," Cas continues on flatly, ignoring the concerned looks he's getting from both Gabriel and Dean. "Jack mistook him for the 'date' and got into his car. Dean had just worked for a long time and was too tired to realize it wasn't his brother. He returned him as soon as he realized his mistake and he offered to help me out as an apology and, well, things just kind of spiraled into him pretending to be my boyfriend and then my fiancé in order to get Chuck and Naomi to stop threating to petition for custody of Jack. Now if you'll excuse me, I plan to sleep for the next few hours so I don't go out, find a liquor store, and drink it." Cas finally finishes, throwing himself onto the bed as all his remaining energy leaves him. "Castiel-" Gabriel starts and Cas buries his face in the comforter to keep his brother from seeing or hearing how he's gasping for air and fighting against the hammering of his pulse, anxiety raising its hands to choke him again. "Gabe, I think it's best if you go." Cas hears Dean's voice interrupt firmly, drifting away from the bed and towards the door amidst Gabriel's protests. "Look, I'll have Cas text you as soon as he's up again, but right now I think he needs some rest. This morning was ... a lot. For everyone." There's a pause like Gabriel has his mouth open to argue, but then Cas hears him agree, threating some creative form of bodily harm if Dean doesn't take good care of him. The door clicks shut and he can hear Dean come back towards the bed. "I'm, I'm fine, Dean," Cas lies, his watery words and hiccupped breath betraying him. "You're not, and that's okay. What do you need from me?" "I- I don't-" Cas can't manage to finish, the weight that had been lifted by Dean earlier seeming to crash down on his chest tenfold heavier. "Okay, it's okay. How 'bout I give you a few suggestions that usually work for me and we can see if one sounds good to you?" Dean asks gently, the bed dipping from where he sits next to Cas' prone, heaving body. He must manage a nod or something close to an approximation of agreement because Dean continues. "One thing that helps me is movies or tv shows, something to play in the background and drown out all the shit going on in my head. Or, um, I could help you try to regulate your breathing. Um, or, well, I don't know if it would really help or not, but I could, uh, I could hold you? Like this morning?" Cas bites back a sob long enough to whisper "please" and he hopes Dean understands. He does and Cas can't help but question whether or not he's a real person and not some divine being.

Dean rises from the bed. Cas briefly hears the television flip on, volume low enough that it's not overwhelming but loud enough to distract from the noise of his panicking mind.

Then Dean is there beside him. The heat of him warming the parts of Cas he hadn't realized had gone numb. Cas instinctually turns toward him, a far reach of his brain whispering something about heliotropism before it's drowned out again. Dean's forehead rests against his, their feet tangled together, one of Dean's arms around him. Cas can feel Dean's heartbeat from where his hand ended up flat against Dean's chest. It's strong and steady and soothing. Slowly, Cas feels his lungs give up their rebellion, his mind raising a white flag as he leans into the comfort Dean offers, his breathing and heartrate slowing to synchronize with Dean's.

"There we go, sweetheart," Dean murmurs, breath hot against Cas' face. "That's it, just breathe." "Dean, I'm. I'm so sorry. You," Cas sucks in a deep breath as his lungs still ache, "You didn't ask for any of this." "No," Dean agrees, but the free hand not pressing against Cas' back comes up to grip his neck and cheek, "But no one really does." Cas tries to laugh, but it comes out as another sob. "Dean-" "Shhh, Cas. You probably had or are having a panic attack and the adrenaline crash is imminent. Let yourself rest for a bit and we can talk when you wake up and feel better." Cas wants to give in to the soft words, wants to slip away into sleep in Dean's arms, but he can't. A sharp kernel of worry refusing to let him be totally comfortable. "I'm sorry about the kiss, or whatever was bothering you about it after. I really didn't plan on doing it, but well, the way that you stood up for yourself and for me? I needed to do something. And I didn't mean to upset you in the stairwell or-" "Cas, shit. If anyone needs to apologize, it's me. You were clearly already freaking out and distressed and I made it worse because, well, uh, because that was probably one of the best kisses I've ever had and, it just didn't. I mean, I'm really supposed to believe that a guy like you hasn't been kissed?" "Well, I have been kissed before, but I don't like to count those as none of them were with people I wanted to kiss me. They were all women my mother set me up with to try and 'straighten' me out," Cas tries to laugh at his own joke but he can't, eyes scrunch shut so he doesn't have to see how Dean's reacting to this information. "I have never been the one to initiate the kissing and well, you are the first man I've kissed." Dean pulls him tighter, the unexpected reaction forcing a soft moan to escape from Cas as Dean buries his face into Cas' neck, his chest crushing into Cas' arms, their hips now flush as Dean leaves no space between them. "I'm so fucking sorry, Cas. That's- no one should- It's fucked up." It feels validating and different to have Dean telling him this. He finds himself able to believe it more coming from the man holding him than from his own brother or even from his therapist, both of which feel like they are obligated to respond that way. "Thank you, Dean." He wants to say more, to tell Dean how grateful he is to have the acknowledgement, to have someone here to listen and hold him. He wants to kiss Dean again. He can't quite bring himself to do it though, can't quite override the anxiety still swirling in his brain. So, he settles for pressing his lips to Dean's temple and letting his hands unlock from their protective position in front of his chest to wrap around Dean's back. Drawing as close to Dean as Dean had drawn to him. Dean hums into his neck, his hand rubbing up and down Cas' back and more tension slips away. --- For the second time in twenty-four hours Cas wakes wrapped in Dean's arms and feeling lighter than he has in years. "Hey, you feeling better?" Dean whispers, somehow sensing that he's awake.

"I, um, yes, thank you. This, you, were really grounding and," Cas finally opens his eyes to see Dean's green one's staring back, full to the brim of compassion without an ounce of judgement.

I don't think I've leaned on anyone so much besides Gabriel. And he pretty much blackmailed me into it because taking his, or rather, our family's money, was to better provide for Jack.

It makes his stomach clench with guilt and regret. If he had been overwhelmed enough to have a panic attack, he can only imagine how Dean must be feeling.

"I'm sorry again, Dean. Dealing with my family was probably hard enough with them questioning you and then you had to deal with my ... breakdown," Cas whispers, not even sure that Dean can hear him. "Hey, hey, none of that!" Dean grabs Cas and keeps him from accidentally scooting himself the whole way off the edge of the bed. "Cas, seriously. It's fine. I've had my own 'breakdowns.' And if all this shit is a normal occurrence? I'd probably be more worried if you were able to keep it together." Dean reaches out and brushes a thumb across his cheek.

Cas sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, turning his face into the pillow when Dean doesn't let him escape to the floor. "Sweetheart." The petname and the gentle way he says it makes Cas bury his face further into the pillow and away from eyes that are too kind and too understanding. "Cas, I know you probably feel embarrassed, but really, it's not like you could help it. Trust me, I know. Sometimes it just hits you out of nowhere." "You have panic attacks," Cas realizes far too late for all the signs that have been flashing right in front of his face. Sam helping calm him down when he was starting to panic about Jack, Dean knowing how to get him calm and grounding him, even getting Gabriel out of the room, giving him options but ultimately taking control when Cas couldn't. "Yeah," Dean lets out a shaky breath and Cas can't resist the urge to look at him. "Yeah, I do. Not so bad anymore but they used to get really, really bad. Mostly after fights with my dad, so believe me when I say I get it. I thought I was dying the first time Bobby found me dry heaving on the kitchen floor. He's the one who taught me it's better to have someone to hold on to whenever the bad one's hit." "I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas finds himself saying, mirroring Dean's touch.

Dean closes his eyes and leans into it and Cas has the overwhelming desire to give him the world, though he's not even sure himself what that entails. He just knows, like he knows how to breathe, that Dean deserves more than what life has given him, deserves good things. And Cas desperately, perhaps selfishly, wants to be the one to give them to him. Cas is just leaning in to press his lips to Dean's again when Dean's eyes pop open and he heaves in a breath. "Well, I guess you should probably let Gabriel know that you are up. I'm sure he's still worrying." "Oh. Right. What time is it?" Cas replies as he pulls back, his little bubble bursting and reality rushing back in. "Uh, not sure. But my guess is probably around two-ish?" "Two? And you've been stuck here with me the whole time?" "Stuck? Cas, you act like you handcuffed me to the bed or something. Besides, what else would I do, huh? Go downstairs and play slots? Hope to run into your family at the bar or casino? And leave you here by yourself? To wake up alone and feeling guilty or ashamed? Nope, sorry. Like I told your family, you're stuck with me, babe. At least until we get back to California."

Cas doesn't try to stop the smile or the warmth that fills his being at the thought of being stuck with Dean, even if it's just temporarily. "Now, I'm pretty sure I've heard your phone buzz at least six times so you should let Gabriel know that I haven't killed you or whatever he's probably coming up with since he found out I'm practically a stranger. Not to mention the fact that I flipped the dead bolt so he wouldn't be able to sneak in like this morning." "Oh, god! He's probably two seconds away from breaking the door down with the cops!" Cas groans, as he flips around to scramble for his phone on the nightstand. But it's not messages from Gabriel that he's missed. Or at least not just from Gabriel. Mixed in amongst the suggestive jokes and true brotherly concern are several messages from Jack, the most concerning of which being: See you soon, Dad!

Tag List (hopefully I got everyone but just shout at me if I missed you 😅)

@destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm @planterflush @t0asssty @dead-sirens @hate-babe-27 @profanitybasedfun @azriel-rodas @ghost-in-the-light

[noxemma]

Got a nice long one for y'all, might be a little less smooth than the other chapters because this was written in increments during finals week when my brain was scattered like dust in the wind, but here's pt.6

_____

Becoming a regular face at the local, rundown dive bar has been an… interesting experience.

Cas has never been much of a drinker, save for special occasions or large events that he can’t stand attending without some form of buzz pushing him to socialize, but there’s something about The Roadhouse that keeps reeling him back in.

He could lie and say it’s a nice change of pace from his normal life, a way to get out of the house and socialize with people who aren’t his students. He could also say Gabe practically shoves him out the front door whenever Castiel mentions being bored, which is both true and false.

Gabe only forced him out of the house once, every other time has been his own volition, because, in truth, he’s become hooked on something he can only find at the bar.

Who knew a pair of green eyes and a bright, freckled face would be so addicting?

Dean’s astounding to watch as he works, making drinks and chatting with patrons, all with an easy grin. His spiky hair shines under the neon lights, his voice echoes throughout the room as he sings along to whatever’s playing on the jukebox and, while Castiel feels like a creep, watching him from a booth while he cradles his drink, he can’t bring himself to look away.

It took Cas a week to fully accept that Dean’s abduction of Jack was an accident, a second to begin to notice the way Dean was one of the most amazingly genuine people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting, and another to realize he was well and truly in over his head.

Now Gabe’s joking about dragging Castiel to an AA meeting because almost every other night, without fail, after Cas tucks Jack into bed with a story and a kiss, he goes out to visit Dean on his shift.

“Hey, Cas!”

Speak of The Devil.

“Dean,” Castiel smiles at the bartender, who’s easily sliding into the seat across from him, “Are you on break?”

It’s barely past midnight on a Friday, these are the nights Cas barely gets a word in edgewise with Dean before he’s pulled to some other task.

“Nah, I’m off early tonight.” True to his word he has his jacket slung over his shoulder and his keys clutched in one hand.

“Oh?” Cas glances towards the bar, where two of Dean's co-workers (Jo and… Benny? Are those their names?) are watching the pair like hawks, “Why’s that?”

The burly man behind the bar shoots Dean a conspiratorial grin and a wink, leaving the bartender across from Cas sputtering out his answer, “N-no reason.”

Dean clears his throat, blushing so hard it disappears down the collar of his henley, “You headin’ out soon?”

The professor looks down at his long since empty glass, “It appears so.”

“Cool!” Dean jumps out of his seat, seeming to have recovered from whatever embarrassing circumstance his co-workers so desperately tried to put him in, “I’ll walk you out.”

Cas bites back a response about how he can manage a trip to the parking lot on his own, how he doesn't need someone to escort him back to his beat-up second hand truck.

“I’d like that.”

It’s quiet outside, a vast difference from the Roadhouse’s constant noise and clatter. The sky is cloudy, a few drops of rain are beginning to fall, but other than that it’s not awful.

Especially not with Dean at his side, grinning as they walk to Cas’ vehicle.

“Woah,” The bartender whistles under his breath once Castiel points out which parking spot he’s in, “Never took you for a truck guy.”

He’s heard this sentiment before and his answer is practically muscle memory at this point, “I’m not, but it was the cheapest vehicle I could find when I started school, and I haven’t had time to budget a way to replace it.” He purses his lips in thought for a moment before adding, “I use my brother's car whenever I need to transport Jack, though, since this doesn't have a back seat.”

“Smart.” Dean nods approvingly as Castiel unlocks the door, “Well it’s a nice lookin-” Cas turns the key in the ignition and his engine lets out a god awful shrieking noise, “Jesus christ!”

“It does that sometimes.” He shrugs, the clatter waning as the engine warms up.

“It shouldn’t.” Dean looks horrified, “Is this thing even driveable?”

Most likely not, “Yes.”

“I-” He looks like he wants to argue more but Cas sets his jaw and Dean leaves it be, opting to sigh and card a hand through his spiky hair, “Okay, you do you, man.”

“Thank you,” His fingers ghost over the handle, ready to close his door and head home, “Have a good night, Dean.”

Dean smiles, mouth opening like he wants to say something before it snaps closed, “I- yeah Cas, get home safe.”

“You too.”

Of course the night Castiel insists his truck is driveable is the night it decides to spite him.

Ten minutes from the Roadhouse, on some poorly lit back road, something begins to feel terribly wrong.

He pushes the gas pedal down in an attempt to accelerate, only for the engine to let out a pathetic noise while his speedometer stays stubbornly low. He tries again, flooring it this time, only to get the same results, never managing to get above 20 mph.

Panic surges through him as he jerkily pulls to the side of the road, cursing the stupid used truck that he knew was being sold for far too low of a price to be any good.

Castiel turns his key in the ignition and the vehicle falls silent.

What does he do now? Does he risk trying to drive back home when his truck might give out on him? Does he call Gabe to retrieve him?

No, Gabe’s at home with Jack.

A tow truck is his next best option, but it's late and the fees will probably be exuberant.

“Damnit.” He thumps his fist on the dashboard.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, glaring at the hood in front of him with betrayal, but it’s long enough for a sleek black car to pull up behind his truck.

Cas grumbles under his breath and grips his steering wheel tightly, headlights flashing in the rearview as a silhouetted figure approaches his window. He doesn't want to deal with someone else right now, no matter how helpful they end up being, he just wants to be home.

“Cas?”

Oh god. Castiel freezes, catching movement out of the corner of his eyes as the person becomes clear in the dim light.

“I thought that was you,” Dean presses his face up against the window, voice muffled as he shouts at Cas through the glass, “What’s goin’ on?”

Cas keeps his eyes firmly trained ahead of him, like he can will the bartender away if he doesn't acknowledge his presence.

“Helloooo-” Fingers tap on the glass, “Ground control to Major Cas.”

This is mortifying, the last thing he wanted Dean to see tonight was his poor vehicle maintenance.

“Dude? Are you okay?” He sounds concerned and that snaps Castiel out of his stupor, “Do you want me to call someone-?”

Castiel whips towards him, not intentionally, but it causes Dean’s eyes to widen in surprise for a moment. He fumbles for the handle, motioning for Dean to wait one moment, before popping open his door, “Did you follow me?”

“Nope.” Dean presses an arm against the roof and leans against the truck, “Just happened to be coming up the road when I noticed a certain bucket of bolts sitting on the shoulder. ”

Cas glares at the wet gravel below them, “I do not want to hear an ‘I told you so’ right now.”

“And you’re not gonna’,” Dean throws his hands up in surrender and flashes a brilliant smile, “I just wanted to offer my stellar roadside assistance.”

“I don’t want to keep you-”

  “None of that,” He gives him a firm clap on the shoulder, hand lingering for just a moment, “Pop the hood, lets see what’s going on.”

Castiel does as Dean asks, finding the bartender's confidence too strong to disagree with.

He should have probably asked Dean what sort of experience with engines he has before letting him loose on his poor truck, maybe he’s even less knowledgeable than Cas and is only going to do more harm than good, but he moves with ease, ducking out of sight and under the hood like he’s done this all his life.

After a few minutes of rummaging around Dean seems to find the problem, shouting so he can be heard over the rain, “Cas, man, your spark plugs are fucked! When was the last time you took this thing in for a tune up?”

Castiel blushes and averts his gaze, even though Dean can’t see him with his nose buried in the engine. It’s ridiculous, really, he’s a university professor, he has an adopted child who he’s cared for since he himself was a student, and yet the idea of going to an auto shop to figure out why his truck hasn’t been acting quite right makes his stomach churn.

He’s heard horror stories of people being overcharged, scammed for parts they don’t need because they don’t know their way around an engine, it’s awful and Castiel isn’t sure he could prevent it from happening to him.

“Cas?”

Dean’s staring at him now, squinting through the rain, hair plastered to his forehead.

“I-” He swallows thickly and raises his voice, “I’m afraid I’m not very good at vehicle maintenance.”

“I caught that,” The bartender snorts, slamming the hood down so hard it makes Cas jump, “But you need some now, so…”

He circles around to the passengers side, easily ducking inside to avoid the distasteful weather as Cas groans and presses his forehead to the steering wheel, already dreading the inevitable hours of researching local mechanics he has coming for him. 

“Ya’ know…” Dean speaks again, gentler this time, “My uncle owns a shop in town, might be able to get a discount.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can totally work something out with him. Can you get the engine started at all?”

Castiel nods miserably, forehead thumping against the wheel, turning the key in the ignition to prove that his truck is capable of running (poorly), “It just refuses to accelerate.”

“That’s good!”

Cas shoots him a disbelieving side eye.

“Well, it ain’t good good, but it means we don’t need to tow it.” Bless Dean's heart, he’s trying so hard to keep things somewhat positive, “You follow me back into town and I’ll lead you to the shop and we can get it fixed up first thing tomorrow.”

He agrees to Dean's plan, if only so he doesn't stay stranded on the side of the road any longer, and he tails the bartender's impala into town at a painfully slow pace.

What should have been a five minute drive takes much, much longer. Castiel could almost weep with relief when a sign saying ‘Singer Auto’ comes into view and Dean pulls into an empty parking lot, Cas parking in the spot next to him.

“It’ll be fine here overnight?” He asks as he gets out of the truck and locks the door behind him.

“Yep, Bobby’s got security cameras galore, nobody’s gonna’ try anything.”

“Alright…” He wrings his hands as Dean settles next to him, leaving the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder against the truck, “I should probably call a taxi back home, shouldn’t I?”

Dean snorts, “No.”

“Pardon?”

Cas is given a look that makes him feel like he’s just asked if the sky was blue, like he’s just asked a question that has a painfully obvious answer.

“I’ll drive ya’,” Dean shrugs, like it’s the simplest decision in the world, “I don’t mind.”

“What if I live out of your way?” It’s a massive possibility, Cas forcing Dean to drive thirty minutes opposite of his home just because he can’t take good care of his truck.

“Then we go out of my way. Who knows-” Dean’s stepping into Cas’ space now, “Might be nice to spend some time together outside of the bar.”

Cas feels his face heat up, “I’ve been told I’m not amazing company.”

Dean throws his head back and laughs and, goodness, is it one of the most beautiful sounds on earth; he wants to hear it everyday.

“If I didn’t think you were awesome to be around, I wouldn’t be here.” 

Now, here’s the thing, Castiel has never been great at reading tone. His siblings used to tease him constantly for it, his fellow professors still side-eye him when his sarcasms fall flat, but there’s no doubt in his mind that Dean is genuine.

Maybe it’s the glint in his eyes, or the fact that he could be at home but is instead standing in the rain with Cas, it makes the professor want to believe every word that comes out of his mouth.

“C’mon man,” Dean loosely grabs Cas’ wrist, dragging him back towards the impala, “You like classic rock? It’s the only music allowed in Baby.”

“I’ll enjoy whatever music you play.”

Dean lights up at that, opening the passengers side door for Cas and allowing him to get comfortable before he gets behind the wheel.

“Just tell me where we’re going!”

Cas watches the mechanics shop- and subsequently his truck- disappear in the side view mirror as he directs Dean between bits of conversation.

“-You’ve seriously never listened to Bob Seger!?”

“I can’t say I have- turn left here-”

Dean sings along to the music as he follows Cas’ directions, something a black-haired beauty. He has a wonderful singing voice.

“Turn right, Dean.”

“You’re the boss- Okay, so no Seger, you ever listen to Springsteen?”

“No.”

“What!? What about Zep? AC/DC-?”

“Are those singers or…?”

“Oh my god, I take back every nice thing I’ve said about you, we can’t be friends anymore- oh, are you laughing? Cas, are you fucking with me right now?”

“Go straight at this intersection.”

“Cas!”

“Dean I’m out of touch, I don’t live under a rock, of course I know about AC/DC.”

“Thank fuck-”

“It’s the next driveway on the left- yes this one- You’ve been saying nice things about me?”

Dean flushes and sputters as the impala rolls to a stop next to Gabriel's driveway, “W-well, yeah, obviously-”

“I’m flattered.” Cas can see a light on in the kitchen and a silhouette suspiciously shaped like his older brother peeking out the window, though it ducks out of view once Castiel spots it, “Thank you for the ride, Dean.”

He has to walk around the car to get to the driveway and he can hear Dean roll down the window behind his back, “Cas, come back here for a sec.”

Now it’s Cas’ turn to lean against someone else's vehicle, ducking his head so he can look Dean in the eyes, “Yes?”

The freckled man looks like he might have a stroke for a moment, “Listen, Cas, I’ve really enjoyed hanging with you so- ya’ know- I guess if you wanted to keep doing that- we-” He stumbles through a few more half formed sentences before he screws his eyes shut and mumbles under his breath, “Fuck it.”

There’s no time to ask what he means before Dean leans out the window, grips Cas’ chin, and plants a kiss square on his cheek.

It’s chaste, quick, not at all like the man who gave it, but it still sends Castiel's mind reeling as he takes a few stumbling steps back, his face certainly turning a brilliant shade of red.

“Okay, see ya’ Cas!” Dean’s back in the impala, pointedly not looking at the man he just made a move on, and shifting gears before Cas can react, “I’ll let you know when I get your car fixed up!”

“Dean, wait-”

But he’s already tearing down the road, leaving Castiel to watch him disappear around a corner, leaving him feeling impossibly warm and giddy despite the rain seeping through his coat.

That was possibly the clumsiest, most juvenile way to admit one's feelings that Castiel has ever witnessed, and it was perfect.

Next time he sees Dean he’ll have to return the favor.

_____

<<First│<-Prev│Next

[noxemma]

Glitter

For @winchester-reload pride prompts. Happy pride month everyone!

Last week's pride art and three arts from last year

[noxemma]

happy pride everybody

[noxemma]

just popping in to say that your kidnapped Jack fic is amazing. I died laughing at the transition to fake dating.

Mick is perfectly obnoxious, head-over-heels Dean is awesome, and I want to see those suits so bad.

Absolutely hysterically funny and well-written. Thanks so much for writing and I can’t wait for more!

Ah! Thank you. I'm so glad you liked it and are finding it funny. I'm trying to balance humor with a bit of the more serious parts so it's good to know they're funny to other people and not just myself 😂

This is the photo I took the suit inspo from (i could not tell you what event this is form or who took the pic, I was probably just googling "Misha and Jensen suits" at 3 AM lol) But, I mean, come on, Jensen and Misha are kind of matching as it is. I just wrote them to be a little more of a coordinated set

[noxemma]

Hii! I'm the anon you responded to about the Destiel fic you're working on! I didn't realize you responded or I would have said something sooner lol! Anyway, you're super cool, keep up the good work!

-🎀

Hi! Sorry, I'm the one who missed you this time and didn't respond 🫣

While I would love to claim to be cool, it is, unfortunately, impossible as I am three parts caffeine-starved raccoon, and two parts sleep-deprived opossum, all wrapped in a trench coat 🦝

That is to say, I'm bad at taking compliments but thank you for the kind words and I really am flattered you like my writing Anyway, Part 5 is up! Hope you enjoy it!

[noxemma]

First comes love a kid(napping), then comes a marriage ... Yeah, they're definitely doing things in the wrong order, but maybe, if they're lucky, they can figure out how to reverse their way into something real.

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

———

Thank you all for the comments and reblogs. I honestly didn't expect so many people to enjoy my little spin on colorlessjay's story idea and I'm really flattered. Hopefully, this next part lives up to the others and thanks for continuing to read! ———

Blackbird singing in the dead of night ... "I should, um, that, that's Jack, so I should-" Cas stutters an explanation as he grabs for his phone but it slips off the nightstand, the Beatles continuing to croon from the ground.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise

"Jack, hey buddy! How did everything go last night?" "Great! Mr. Sam is awesome, even if he did make me go to bed at nine. He helped me with my math homework and this morning he made something yummy for breakfast. It's a piece of bread and you cut a hole out of it, then put the egg- Oh, hi Mr. Dean!" Cas turns the phone and Dean sees the kid's face fill the screen. "Oh, uh, hi Jack!" Dean gives a little wave, smile blooming because it's nearly impossible not to at the boy's infectious enthusiasm. "Sounds like you had a good time with Sam. He didn't burn it did he? Last time he tried to make them he almost burned down the whole house." "No, I did not!" Sam barks. Jack's giggling is almost loud enough to drown him out as the image blurs, and he's replaced by Sam.

"Glad to see Egg-in-a-Nest is still a fan favorite," Dean laughs, leaning over the bed closer to Cas so he doesn't have to keep stretching back awkwardly and they can both get into view.

"Yeah, well, I figured if it worked on me as a kid ... well, Jack just wanted to say hi and make sure you guys made it okay," Sam says, but Dean notices a weird tone in his voice and a squinting of his eyes. "Dean, are you-?"

He's suddenly very self-conscious about the fact that neither he nor Cas have shirts on.

"Right, well, uh, why don't you give the phone back to Cas so he and Jack can talk. I'll call you in a minute," Dean says to Sam who nods, before Dean turns to whisper to Cas. "Hey, I'm gonna go grab my bag so I can change. Can I have the keycard?"

"Oh! Of course. I got one for both of us; I must have forgotten to tell you last night. Yours should be on the table by the coffee maker," Cas murmurs back, eyes so close he can almost map the waves of dark blue in his irises. "Thanks," Dean breathes, frozen in place until Cas turns his head to respond to Jack's barrage of questions. "How long was the drive? How far away is Las Vegas? Have you seen Uncle Gabe yet?"

He hightails it out the door only stopping long enough to grab the essentials and opting for the safety of a door between him and the attractive professor before slowing down to pull on his dirty t-shirt and shoes.

Even before he's in the elevator his phone is buzzing, and he knows it's Sam. "Hey, Sammy," Dean answers with false brightness as he jabs the button for the lobby. "Don't 'Hey, Sammy' me, Dean. Please tell me you didn't sleep with my professor." Dean opens his mouth but Sam barrels on, "And don't tell me you didn't because I have eyes. You were both shirtless! In the same bed! And I'm pretty sure you don't own grey sweats or orange underwear!"

"How the fuck do you know what underwear I'm wearing?"

"Like I said: eyes. I saw you get off the bed before I handed the phone back to Jack. Now, I want answers."

"Look, I didn't sleep with him. I mean I did, but just because there was a mix up with the room and ours only had one bed. Both of us were so exhausted last night, or rather this morning, that it didn't seem worth the effort to figure it out." "And the clothes?"

Dean sighs and watches the digital number decrease.

"I desperately needed a shower but didn't realize I'd forgotten my bag in the car. Cas over-packed and lent me some clothes," Dean explains, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and stop the headache he feels coming on. "Look, I promise I'm not looking to hook-up with your English professor, no matter how hot he is. I'm just here to play fake fiancé as a favor and maybe get a little extra padding for your tuition fund, okay?" Dean tells Sam, not particularly interested in analyzing why telling the truth feels so much like a lie.

He opens his eyes to find the elevator doors open he steps off only to bump straight into a guy who walks in without waiting to let anyone off. Dean curses as the jolt sends his phone skittering across the fancy marble floor.

"Watch where you're going," the man snarls, lip curling disdainfully as he takes in Dean's outfit. "Bite me!" Dean barks back, rubbing his arm and bending to pick up his phone, sighing in relief when there are miraculously no cracks.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam's worried voice calls from the speaker.

"Hey, sorry. Some entitled asshole knocked the phone out of my hand-"

"What did you mean 'fake fiancé'?"

Crap, I totally forgot to tell him about that little change in plan.

"Right, so the thing is ..."

Dean explains the whole backstory that Cas had told him about Jack while he grabs his bag and the shoes from Baby.

"Look, Sam. I know what I'm doing, okay? I promise I won't kill anyone or anything and even if I do, I know a great kid lawyer who'll get me out." "I'm not a lawyer yet," Sam groans before finally heaving a resigned sigh. "Just don't hurt yourself or Professor Novak, okay?" "You have my word, bitch." "Yeah, yeah. Call me later, jerk."

The bathroom door is closed and Cas is nowhere in sight, so Dean just starts changing. He's just pulling his burgundy overshirt on overtop the plain black tee he may or may not have picked because it clung a bit to his arms and chest, emphasizing the muscle there, when Cas comes out of the bathroom. Dean hasn't known the man long, but he feels confident that Cas is uncomfortable in the get-up. He has on khaki pants and a light blue button up with a tan striped tie that is somehow twisted backwards. His hair is tamed and there has to be some sort of product in it to keep the whisps and curls under control.

"Uh, you look- Should I change? I don't think I have anything that could be considered, what is that? Tax accountant chic?" Dean teases but only to stop himself from worrying about how woefully underdressed he's going to look in comparison. "No! Er, no. You look wonderful," Cas rushes as he glances over Dean once, then slows down for a more in-depth perusal that has Dean's blood heating again. "If I wanted you to change, I wouldn't be dating you." "You're not dating me," Dean mutters, wincing at how petulant it sounds and hoping Cas doesn't pick up on it. "Dean, if I wanted someone to play pretentious boyfriend, I could have invited Mick. My parents would probably love him, but I would never actually date someone like him." Cas trails off, clearly uncomfortable and trying to figure out what to say, but all Dean's mind can think is:

"You wouldn't date him, but you'd date me?"

"I may not have known you for very long, but I can tell that you are a kind, hardworking man who cares about your brother and the feelings of others," Dean tries to keep breathing as Cas continues on, getting closer until he's right in front of Dean, "You're smart, funny, intelligent, and I think I could probably talk to you for hours. So, yes, I would date someone like you."

The warmth that blossoms at Cas' proximity and flattering description of him cools to lukewarm at the two extra words that change the entire meaning of Cas' little speech.

Right. 'cause Cas would never date me either, just 'someone like me'.

"Uh, thanks, Cas. I always appreciate compliments and it's good to know my first impression didn't do irreparable damage to your opinion of me. I think you're pretty great too and I've enjoyed getting to know you," Dean reciprocates, forcing the palatable pieces of the truth out of his mouth, the rest, like how he's opened up more to Cas than he has to anyone else in years, sticks painfully behind his teeth and under his tongue. "Of, of course, Dean," Cas says, brow slightly furrowed as if he can sense something is off about Dean's response but can't quite pinpoint it.

Thankfully, Cas' phone starts ringing, this time blaring an old version of the Candy Man. "Gabriel, we are headed out now. No! Do not strangle Balthazar, he is allowed to dislike Celine Dion," Cas rolls his eyes at Dean, quiet for a few moments as Gabriel speaks. "Yes, he will be joining us for brunch, though not if you keep calling him that. Fine. We'll see you soon."

"So, uh, are we driving to this place or ...?"

"Oh, no. My parents are having it catered in the penthouse," Cas tosses out like it means nothing. "Oh, the penthouse. Great," Dean grumbles as he follows Cas out.

———

Before Cas even gets his hand up to knock on the penthouse door, it swings open. "Castiel, thank god you're finally here. If I have to hear Bal talk about how much he hates Titanic one more time, I swear I just might have to take drastic measures." "Good morning, Gabriel. Glad to see you're not overreacting," Cas says dryly, rolling his eyes. Dean peeks over his shoulder to see Gabriel in a theatric faint against the doorway. "After all I do for you-" Gabriel moans. "None of which I asked for."

Gabriel's eyes pop open and he looks like he's about to say something cutting when his eyes lock on Dean over Cas' shoulder. "Ah! You're still here. Castiel, would you mind introducing me to your paramour?" Gabriel asks innocently like he hadn't broken into their room this morning and doesn't have pictures of the two of them cuddling on his phone. "He's not my paramour-" "Didn't look that way this morning," Gabriel sing-songs. "-he's my boyfriend, and fiancé as far as any of our other relatives know. Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, this insufferable idiot is my brother, Gabriel." "Don't let him fool you, he loves me," Gabriel insists as he sidesteps Cas to thrust out a hand to Dean.

"Uh, nice to finally put a face to the name, 'Uncle Gabe,'" Dean says, wincing a little as Gabe crunches his hand in a punishing grip and pulls him in. "Now. I know the engagement is fake, but what are your intentions with my baby brother?"

Gone is all the mirth and mischief from his eyes, replaced by a fierce protectiveness that Dean knows well and has to admire. "I just want to make Cas happy. In whatever way I can."

The words come out so easily and Dean is surprised by the truth behind them.

Gabe nods, finally relinquishing Dean's hand. "Great. If you're done being an absolute bag of dicks, I believe we have a torture session disguised as brunch to attend." "You're mean when you're hangry, 'Cas,'" Gabriel teases, unwrapping a piece of taffy he pulled from who-knows-where and popping it into his mouth before leading them both into the penthouse. Dean had known that the penthouse of a Las Vegas hotel was going to be fancy, hell Elvis had lived in one, but nothing prepares him for the opulence he steps into.

Dean's jaw is on the floor as they pass beneath crystal chandeliers. A quick peek into the two rooms jutting off the entry way shows one to be a miniature movie theater with eight seats and the other a mini lounge complete with a pool table and fully stocked bar. Cas is impossibly unfazed as they swing by the living room that houses a hundred-inch flatscreen, a fireplace, and a baby grand piano and Dean can't figure out if he truly doesn't care or if he's just used to witnessing his family's wealth. They stop just short of the dining room, low murmurs echoing out to them. "Dean, are you sure you want to do this?" Cas whispers, ignoring the way Gabe arches his brow as he waits for them just in the doorway. "I'm sure," Dean says, lacing their fingers together for a quick, supportive squeeze.

Cas nods and they step into the lion's den together after Gabriel.

——— "Castiel, how lovely of you to finally join us," a woman's sharp words slice at them the moment they enter the room. "I was beginning to think you might not have shown up at all. Who is that with you?" Cas keeps a smile on his face, but his hand tightens around Dean's and Dean can see the tension around his eyes. "Naomi," Cas nods stiffly in acknowledgment before introducing Dean, "This is my fiancé, Dean."

"Dean," Naomi says his name like it's something slimy. "What is it that you do?" "I'm a mechanic-" Is all Dean manages to say before he is cut off. "'Naomi,' is that anyway to treat our dear mother, Castiel?" a man seated next to Naomi asks, words laced with venom. "Have some respect." Dean's eyes narrow as he focuses on the familiar looking guy before placing him as the asshole who'd bumped into him earlier that morning at the elevator. "She has made it very clear that I am no son of hers, so her given name is the most respectful thing I can call her, Michael, though I'm sure I could think of a few less respectful ones if you'd prefer."

Dean wants to whoop with pride, but he bites his lip, knowing if he says anything now it will be a long, long brunch and he's starving.

"Enough! Everyone, just sit so we can begin," booms an older gentleman Dean assumes is Cas' father, Chuck, based on how everyone follows the order as he takes his seat at the head of the table. Naomi claps her hands twice and waitstaff emerge from the kitchen carrying trays of food. Dean watches in morbid fascination as each tray is presented to Chuck first then brought around to each person, the waiter or waitress serving a portion from their tray to the plate on the table or pouring what looks to be mimosa into champagne glasses, completely ignored by everyone. "Chuck is at the head of the table, Naomi is to his right. Next to her is my older brother Michael and I think that is his fiancé," Cas whispers to Dean. "Abagail. Then you have Balthazar, our cousin. Uriel's wife, Sarah, is next to him and that's Uriel at the foot of the table. Moving on, Marv, the family attorney is on the other side of Castiel and our aunt Amara, is to dear old dad's left," Gabriel takes over explaining. "Basically, everyone one hates each other but we all play nice because tearing out each other's jugulars would probably make for bad press." Dean's head is swimming with names and faces, which only gets worse as he glances at all of them and realizes that underdressed is a gross overstatement. He's just contemplating stabbing himself with the salad fork (because yeah, the table is set with about a million different utensils Dean can't hope to guess the function of), when a flash of silver appears in his periphery. "Uh, sir? Would you like some-" Dean turns toward the server to respond, which seems to startle the gangly man so much that he stumbles back. Dean watches in horror as time slows.

The server fails to regain his balance, tripping over his own legs. The silver tray with a strange beige looking meat substance teeters on the waiter's hand before tipping and clattering to the floor with a splat and a clang. Time speeds back up as Dean leaps from his chair to help the man up. "Hey, I'm so sorry about that ..." "Uh, Garth, and I'm the one who should be apologizing." Dean hauls him to his feet before helping him grab his tray.

"Seriously, it was my fault. No need for you to take the blame for something I caused. You okay?"

Garth smiles and nods, "I'm a little bruised but definitely in better shape than the fois gras." Dean guesses that must be the meat on the floor, but he honestly has no idea. "Uh, you should probably sit back down now," Garth whispers, whipping out a cloth from somewhere and scooping up the meat, another person stepping in right after him to mop the spot.

He turns to heed the waiter's advice only to find everyone's eyes boring into him with varying emotions. Chuck, Naomi, Uriel, Michael, and Marv all stare at him with disgust and disdain. Abagail and Sarah with horror. Balthazar and Gabriel regard him with astonished amusement. Amara sears him with an intense emotion that borders on lascivious.

The other waitstaff all have soft smiles of gratitude.

And then there's Cas. Cas stares at him with pride and affection and something else that is warm and comforting. So, he doesn't look anywhere else. Just plops down and acts like nothing happened, Cas' hand finds his under the table.

"Dean," Naomi calls to him, his name icy and cold on her tongue. "I will let your impertinence slide as I am sure that you are not accustomed to silver service or etiquette, but the rule of thumb is to not interact with the staff." Dean tries to tamp down the anger bubbling in him, he really does. But then Naomi gives a little pretentious sniff and Dean can't help himself. "Thank you all for the wonderful service. Everything," Dean can't quite bring himself to lie because the truth is he hasn't had a bite of anything that tasted good, "Looks wonderful. Though I can't vouch for its taste, but that's probably due to my unrefined palate. Garth, would I be able to get some regular old peasant eggs and bacon?"

The scowls on him deepen and whispers begin to fill the room but the waitstaff can't hide their beaming and snickers and both Balthazar and Gabriel do a poor job trying to stifle their laughter behind their champagne glasses.

"Honestly, Castiel. If you can't even control your boyfriend, how are you expected to raise a child," Chuck throws out casually. "This is why he should come live with us. He needs the stability of two responsible parental figures." "Hey! Cas is a great father!" Dean snarls, old wounds scraped open and bleeding at the memory of being questioned about his own ability to raise Sam. "Dean," Cas says softly, placing a hand on his arm. "Ignore them, I do. Let's just get through this, okay?" Dean sits back in his seat, angrily chewing a piece of bacon that Garth ended up getting him, delivered with a grin and a wink. He resolves himself to let it go and stay silent for the rest of the miserable brunch.

It's a great plan, except Naomi just has to open her mouth. "Dean, I'm not sure you're aware, but Jack is Castiel's nephew," she corrects both the nickname and Jack's heritage, "not his son. Castiel will never be a real father, not with his ... condition." Dean tries to count to ten, tries to picture Sammy telling him not to, but he looks to Cas and all restraint flies out the window when he sees tears burning at the edges of his beautiful blue eyes. He jumps to his feet, slamming his hands against the table as if he didn't already have everyone's undivided attention. "Damn! Did you hear that, Cas? Turns out you can't be a father because neither of us can get pregnant. Guess that means we should stop trying so hard," Dean shouts, sarcasm dripping from every word. There is a full second of silence where time seems suspended before all hell breaks loose. Gabe sprays mimosa out of his nose at the inuendo and proceeds to struggle between laughing and coughing. Cas is staring open mouthed up at Dean, unreadable emotion in his eyes. Everyone else gasps and clutches their metaphoric pearls like he'd stood up on the table, pulled down his pants and underwear, and yelled "Pudding!" while shaking his junk at them. Naomi, unfortunately, appears to recover first. "How dare you-" "How dare I?" Dean asks incredulously. "How dare you? I may not be up to date on proper etiquette, but I'm pretty sure berating and belittling your son's fiancé, whom you've just met, is frowned upon. Also, how dare you question Cas' ability to be a parent? He is Jack's dad in every way that counts. He provides for him and loves him unconditionally and would do anything to protect him, which is clearly more than you two can say about yourselves. And he's not doing it alone anymore. He has me and I promise you: I'm not going anywhere." "Don't you speak to my wife that way," Chuck yells at Dean, standing and matching his stance. "And how could Jack possibly benefit from you, Dean? How much do you actually make as a mechanic? Will you be able to help with Jack's college and expenses? Did you even go to college? " "You know what, no. Happy? I didn't go to college. I've never had and probably never will have anything that amounts to material wealth. But what I do have is a G.E.D, a give 'em hell attitude, a decade of experience raising my brother, who got a one-seventy-four on his first shot at the L-SAT and is a few semesters away from graduating in the top ten percent of his class at Stanford, and a whole lotta love for Jack and Cas. So, you can keep your etiquette and complicated silver wear and awful tasting expensive food. I'd rather be poor and happy with a dick in my ass than rich and empty with a stick up it any day a'the week," Dean finishes, huffing and shaking as the rage still claws at him and begs for a bruisable outlet other than an inflated ego.

"Dean ..." Cas breathes beneath him and Dean wants to kick himself. He was supposed to make Cas look good, look stable. And now he'd probably fucked everything up. He doesn't look at Cas, even though he can feel him tugging at his overshirt. He can't look at him yet, needs another moment to scramble together a protective wall from the disappointment and anger he's going to find in the haunting blue. He chooses to stare down Chuck and Naomi who are apparently stunned speechless, as is the rest of the table. "Dean," Cas growls his name this time, but Dean still needs just one more second.

He doesn't get it. Cas is up on his feet beside him, grabbing his face in both hands and pulling him into a kiss.

Cas lips move against his, working at his lower lip until Dean's lips part and Cas' tongue is exploring his mouth. Dean shudders at the sensation, reciprocating eagerly and needing to taste Cas. "Thank you, Dean," Cas whispers as he pulls away far too soon, Dean's lips naturally chasing after him. "Cas?" Dean asks, dazed, confused, and licking the last traces of Cas champagne breath off his lips. Cas doesn't answer though because the room explodes in a cacophony of shouts as everyone jumps to their feet, excluding Abagail and Sarah who shyly give Dean secret thumbs up. Over the din, Dean hears Michael roar that Cas is uninvited from the wedding. "If Cas isn't going, then I'm not. And, judging from your tanking stock, you need me to present a united, family friendly front for the press. I mean that is what this whole wedding is, right? A merger between the Shurley Corporation and Roman Enterprises?" Neither Michael, Naomi, nor Chuck respond. "I'm loathe to agree with Gabriel on anything, but I'm on his and Castiel's team for this one. You bastards," Balthazar says the last part to Gabe and Cas with something that might be considered affection, shocking Dean with his British accent. "If Gabriel and Castiel aren't going, then I'm bloody well not either." "Chuck, Naomi, it's been a pleasure, as always," Cas spits toward them, grabbing Dean's hand and dragging him towards the door. Dean is still too out of it to resist, so he follows Cas, fingertips hovering over his swollen lips, barely registering Gabriel scrambling after them shouting, "Mom, pops, I gotta say, I think this is the best brunch you've ever hosted!"

———

Tag List (I think I got everyone who asked but lmk if you want to be added or removed):

@colorlessjay @destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm

[noxemma]

Sunrise smooches ☀️ (Original)

[noxemma]

Finals are still kicking my ass, but that's neither here nor there, Pt.5 mon amis-

_____

It’s been a few days since Dean got laid out by a guy who buys his kid light up sneakers and he’s built a fun list of lies to tell customers when they inevitably ask about the bruise that’s blossomed across his cheekbone. 

So far his favorite choices have been ‘an angry drunk guy tried to start a fight after closing’, ‘Sammy”s massive ego bumped into me’, and- much to Ellen's appallment and Jo’s amusement- ‘it was a sex thing’.

Because, really, when you’re a bartender you really can’t have people knowing that some scruffy professor in a rumpled trench coat took you out, then people will start thinking they can take you on when you cut ‘em off or toss them to the curb.

“I don’t blame him for hitting you right across the kisser,” Ellen grumbles after Dean tells his newest tall tale to the deliveryman just passing through, “I wanna’ do the same right about now.”

“I thought you loved me.” He asks with feigned sadness.

Ellen had gotten the truth out of Dean within the first five minutes of his shift, which was no surprise for either of them, she knows when he’s lying and how to get God's honest truth outta’ him. It’s infuriating.

“I love that you know when to stop pushin’ your luck.”

“Touche.” He goes back to wiping down the counters, biting back any more snarky remarks in the process.

It’s early in the day now (well, early for him), a little after 3pm, which means there’s barely anyone in the building, just the day drinkers who insist they can stop at any time, Ellen and Dean getting the bar ready for another evening of college students trying to pass off fake IDs made of printer paper, and Jo milling around the dining area, stocking napkins and condiments and whatever else she does (Dean doesn't know, and he doesn't want to, you couldn’t pay him to be a waiter, he’s happy behind the bar).

The front door opens with a brassy jingle and Dean snaps his head upwards only to be sorely disappointed at the sight of the Ash stumbling in, probably running off zero sleep and a liver-killing amount of energy drinks.

“Why’s Dean lookin’ at me like I just kicked his puppy?” Ash asks no one in particular, plopping down in the stool nearest to him as Dean picks his cleaning back up, “And what happened to your face?”

Dean turns around with a cocky grin, ready to make up the most obscene excuse he can possibly dream up, but Jo beats him to it.

“Some crusty old professor kicked his ass ‘cos he abducted his kid.” 

“He’s not crusty or old!” Dean throws his rag down on the worn wooden bar top with a wet ‘thwack’, “And I didn’t ‘abduct’ shit!”

“Top notch priorities there,” Jo chastises, sitting between Ash and Dean with a pile of unrolled silverware, “Defend his looks then your innocence.”

“It’s not like that, Jo.”

Jo leans towards Ash and whispers dramatically, “Dean has a man-crush on the…” She takes a breath, feigning a swooning motion, “strong blue-eyed academic.”

“I do not!” He feels heat creeping into his cheeks, “And- I- I never called him that.”

“No,” Jo agrees with a smug grin, “You just said he had ‘one of the hardest punches you have ever felt’ and that ‘his eyes just drilled into your soul’, which is way worse, in my opinion.”

“That sounds like a man-crush.” Ash confirms, accepting the glass of water Ellen silently slides him.

“I do not have a man-crush!” Dean turns his back to the peanut gallery, busying his hands by getting a new towel from the bleach bucket they keep under the counter, “Besides, wouldn’t it just be a normal crush? I mean, what’s the friggin’ difference if it’s a dude or a chick, right?” They’ve all gone quiet so he deems it safe to face them again, “It doesn't matter, because I do not have a-”

“Hello, Dean.”

“A man-crush…” He hopes his jaw isn’t too far on the floor, because Novak is standing right there, across the bar,  staring at Dean and his fucked up little group of merry men awkwardly, “Professor Novak!”

“Please don’t- only my students call me that.” He mumbles uncomfortably, pinning his gaze to the ‘no drinking under 21’ sign above Dean's head, “My name’s Castiel.”

“Castiel…” Dean mutters under his breath, trying to get a feel for the weird, clunky name, “Okay then. Well, Castiel, you wanna’ park it or you just gonna’ stand there?”

“I already parked outside,” Castiel answers but, thankfully, he strides over to the stool right across from Dean, “But I suppose I can sit.”

“Awesome, man, make yourself comfy.” Dean looks off to the side and see’s Jo and Ash both staring at Castiel.

Ash seems somewhat uninterested, like he’s just trying to match Dean's description of Castiel to the one in front of him, but Jo’s eyes are bugging out of her head as she looks from the professor to Dean, finally mouthing ‘he took you out?’.

Dean waves a dismissive hand in her direction, “What can I get you, Castiel?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t really drink.” He admits and Dean kicks himself.

Not everyone is eager to go for drinks, Winchester, should’ve just asked to meet him over coffee or something.

Dean tries to think of what they have that won’t be too harsh on the guy's palette, “Tell ya’ what, you like apple cider?”

“I believe so…” Castiel nods after a moment of thought, “My brother makes it every year in the fall and I quite enjoy it..”

“Well, this ain’t homemade and it’s got some alcohol so don’t go chugging it,” He bends down to retrieve a can from the mini fridge built into the wall, “But there’s this brewery a few counties over that makes some real good stuff, recently did this- ah what’s it called?” Dean squints at the can, “Honey-blackberry cider, you might like it.”

“Thank you,” Cas watches with intensity as Dean cracks the drink open and pours half of it into the nicest glass within arms reach. He accepts it when offered, taking a hesitant sip before a faint smile finds its way onto his face, “This is quite pleasant.”

Damn… He has a really nice smile.

No, focus on the task on hand.

“Glad you like it,” He can feel the distinct burn of three pairs of eyes staring at him and Cas, “And- uh- I’m glad you came by.”

Castiel finally makes eye contact with Dean, eyes still as piercing as their first meeting, though not nearly as homicidal (Hell yeah, progress), “You are?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I physically assaulted you.” Man this guy is blunt.

“I kinda deserved it,” Dean leans his forearms on the bar, leveling himself with Castiel, “Besides, who doesn't love a good battle scar, they make you sexy.”

Jo takes that as the perfect time to interject, “No they don’t!”

Dean ignores her, “Seriously though man… I’m lucky you didn’t do more, if I’d been in your position and thought I’d lost Sammy…” He chuckles and shakes his head, “Probably would be in police custody for manslaughter.”

“Yes well,” Castiel cocks his head and Dean really wants to know if Jack learned that from Cas or vice versa, “Jack is insistent that you caused no harm, if you had…”

He lets his threat hang in the air.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean mumbles, hanging his head in shame, “How is Jack? Is he okay? I didn’t traumatize him, did I?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Castiel takes another sip of his drink, “It appears I was more distressed than him, though I don’t think he understands the gravity of what could have happened.”

Dean feels a weight being lifted off his chest, one he didn’t know he was even carrying, but he’d just been so fucking worried he’d scarred that kid for life.

“How are-” Dean cuts himself off quickly, still painfully aware of the audience they have, Dean just knows he’s going to be the subject of endless teasing after this, “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Castiel squints at Dean like he misheard.

“Yeah, it’s just, I guess losing your kid might be stressful-” ‘You guess??? Fucking smooth, Winchester’, “And uh… Sorry about that, you know.”

Castiel stares at Dean with a pinched expression for a couple beats, “If that was supposed to be an apology for causing me emotional damage, it was terrible.”

Ellen lets out a bark of laughter from where she is definitely just focused on counting the till and nothing else.

“Not my finest…” He mumbles out, pushing away from the bar like the few extra inches of space will keep Castiel from seeing how red his face has no doubt gotten.

They slip into an uneasy silence, Castiel sipping at his cider while Dean hovers near, not too close, not too far.

“I am sorry.” He tries again, once Cas has emptied his glass and chosen to stare through Dean with those shocking eyes.

“I know.” Castiel states it like a fact, slowly standing up, “And I thank you for wanting to make sure my son is okay, it seems you are not as careless as I first assumed.”

“Jeez man, thanks.” Dean can’t help the gooey grin that creeps onto his face at the compliment (or, at least, he guesses it’s a compliment).

Cas nods in response and only then does Dean realize what’s happening, that his cup is empty and now he’s walking right back towards the door; It makes something in his chest twist painfully.

“Wait just- uh- fuck-” He nearly trips over himself trying to get out from behind the bar, ripping an old receipt off the cash register as he scrambles for Cas, who stops and regards Dean with a tilted gaze, “We didn’t get off on the right foot-"

“Understatement.” 

Dean would be offended by the short response, but there's a hint of amusement in the man's tone that makes it soft, almost like he’s trying to be sarcastic.

“I know, I know,” He fishes a pen out of his back pocket and scribbles out his number, shoving the crumpled paper into Cas’ hand before he can chicken out, “But if you ever want another drink or somethin’ just let me know and I’ll tell you when my next shift is.” Then, he hastily adds, “It’s the least I can do.”

Castiel looks down at the old receipt, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.

The scrap is carefully tucked away in the pocket of Cas’ well-worn trench coat, “Thank you, Dean.”

“Of course, Cas,” He claps his hand against the professors- very firm- bicep and gives him his signature Winchester-grin, “Don’t be a stranger.”

_____

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