#Destiel has a grip on me that I’ll never be able to shake

[mishacollinsthighsss]

"Sam, what do you want?"

Cas stared at Sam, unsure why the younger brother wanted to talk to him so badly, but now seemed to struggle to get a single word out.

"Listen man, there's- there's things you should know about. It's about..."

Sam trailed of with a sigh and sat down in one of the chairs in the library, so Cas did the same.

"About what?"

He got more and more confused by the second, but he could sense that Sam was really nervous, almost scared, so he tried not to be too impatient.

"It's about Dean."

"What about Dean? Is he- did he get in trouble again when I was gone?"

Sam sighed again, even deeper this time, but shook his head.

"No, that's not- have you noticed anything different about him since you're back?"

Cas furrowed his brows and lowered his gaze to the table, trying to think of anything, but there was nothing, at least not something he'd noticed.

"No, not really. Well, he eats even more, but other than that-"

"Yeah, he eats more because he was starving the last few weeks?"

"Starving?"

Cas tried to keep up with Sam, but it got harder and harder.

"Yeah. He- you know how he is, when someone dies, he always blames himself-"

"It's not his fault. I told you to go, both of you. I thought I could handle it."

"I know Cas, but that's not the point."

Sam brushed his hair behind his ear, and just then Cas noticed that he was shaking a little.

"What is it, then?"

"If you'd stop to interrupt me-"

"If you'd just say what you want to say-"

"Okay, okay, stop. This isn't going anywhere that way."

Cas looked up again, his eyebrows still knitted together, but as soon as his eyes met Sam's, he could see the worry in them, so he closed his mouth and made a gesture for Sam to continue.

"Listen, this wasn't the first time. I mean, it was the first time it was that bad, but... whenever you die, Dean's- he's different. He doesn't eat, drinks whenever he can get his hands on some booze, he doesn't sleep, has nightmares. He's a mess without you, dude."

That definitely wasn't what Cas was expecting, and even though it was good to hear that he was important to Dean, his heart felt heavy because Dean suffered because of him.

"That's normal when you're grieving Sam, you should-"

"No, no its not. Not like that. When- when Charlie died, or Kevin, or even dad... it's different with you."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Sam took another deep breath, before he locked eyes with Cas, a determined expression on his face.

"Do you love him?"

Cas was taken aback for a second, because of everything Sam could've asked, he definitely wasn't expecting that.

"Of course, you know I love you both-"

"No. No, no, not like that. Are you- are you in love with Dean?"

Cas sucked in a sharp breath, his heart racing. He knew that Sam asked because he didn't know, how could he, Cas tried to hide it as good as he could. He thought about lying for a second, but why should he?

"Yes."

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and he couldn't hold Sam's gaze anymore. His eyes fell closed and he had to lower his head once again, because he could feel his cheeks burning.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah."

When Cas looked up again, a small smile appeared on his lips, but the angel couldn't quite figure out what was going on inside the younger brother's head.

"Why?" he asked after a long moment of silence, afraid of the answer, but he was too curious not to ask.

"Because I- I think he loves you too."

Even though his grace was protecting the vessel, Cas could've sworn that in this moment, he was close to a heart attack, but he quickly shook his head.

"No, that's not- he... he doesn't like men, Sam. It's normal that he's grieving me, he said it a few times, I'm like a brother to him-"

"Oh, and you believe everything that comes out of his mouth without any doubt?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, challenging, and Cas quickly shook his head.

"No, of course not, but he- he made it clear that he isn't interested in me that way."

"Goddamnit Cas, do you have any idea what I have to deal with when you're gone?"

"No, I don't know if you've noticed, but I was dead."

The angel's voice was quiet, but he couldn't stop it from shaking completely, so he hoped Sam didn't hear it.

"He's- he's not Dean anymore when you're gone, man. He's just- just an empty shell. God he- he wanted to die, Cas. You've seen him grieving, and when you're gone- that's a whole new level."

Sam looked stressed now, almost desperate, but Cas didn't allow himself to think about it, not even for a second, so he just shook his head stubbornly.

"You two are fucking killing me! Just go and kiss Dean and you'll see."

"Wait- what?"

Both their heads snapped around when all of a sudden, Dean appeared in the library, still wearing his pajama, a cup of fresh coffee in his hand.

"You heard that right, could you two just kiss? Do you have any fucking idea how frustrating it is to see you dance around each other, both of you obviously totally smitten, but neither of you has the balls to make a fucking move?"

Cas stared at Sam with wide eyes as he stood up and stomped out of the room, leaving Dean and Cas alone there.

"You uh- is he- I mean does he-"

"Yes. I'm sorry Dean, I know you don't feel that way and it was inappropriate for Sam to-"

"So you- you love me. Like... in love with me? The whole chick-flick stuff?"

Dean's voice came closer, but Cas was too afraid to look at him, so he stubbornly stared at the table.

"Uh...y-yes."

The angel could practically feel Dean's eyes on him, so he lifted his hand and rubbed his neck, in an attempt to lessen the feeling, but it just got stronger with every second.

"Huh."

"Huh?"

"Thought angels couldn't feel that way."

"Well, we aren't supposed to."

"But you do?"

"Yes."

"Great."

"What?"

"I said great."

"Oh."

"So... you gonna make a move now, or what?"

Dean's voice was close to Cas' ear now, and when he looked up, there noses were touching all of a sudden. Dean's eyes were shining and even though Cas wanted to bring some space between them, he couldn't stop staring. His heart hammered in his chest by now, and he knew he could use his grace to calm it down, but for some reason, he didn't want to.

"Because, y'know, me too. The same thing, I mean. Me too."

"You- you mean you...?"

"Yeah."

Both of them were just whispering, but they could hear each other perfectly, could feel their breaths on their lips, even. For the first time in his existence, Cas felt like he wasn't able to think, wasn't even able to breathe. He hesitated for another second, but then leaned forward to close the gap between their lips. A quiet whimper escaped him when he felt Dean's lips for the first time, followed by a sigh. He'd kissed people before, but not like that. He'd never felt the way he felt for Dean, which made it so much more special to him.

He could hear a distant noise, but before he was able to pull away, two warm hands were on his cheeks and pulled him even closer. Their kiss was messy, almost clumsy because of Cas' lack of experience, but neither of them broke it. After what felt like hours and no time at all, Cas could feel Dean sitting down on his lap, so he hesitantly wrapped his arms around the other man's waist. Apparently, that was a good move, because he could feel Dean smiling.

Dean was sighing quietly too now, so Cas used the chance to deepen it even more. His hands were shaking and he could actually feel his blood rushing through his veins, which made him chuckle just a little.

They didn't know how long they were sitting there like that, just kissing and touching each other, when suddenly, Sam cleared his throat from the other end of the room.

"You guys done soon? Because I found a case."

Dean was the one who pulled away first, a smile on his lips and his eyes shining with happiness, something Cas could stare at forever. His cheeks were flushed and the angel knew that he probably looked exactly the same, but he still turned his head to look at Sam, who was trying to hide a grin.

"If you ever do something like that again Sammy, I'm gonna kill you myself. And I'll make sure that you'll stay dead."

Dean's words were harsh, but there was no heat behind them. Cas tightened his grip around Dean's waist and buried his face at his neck, not ready to let go yet, which made the other man laugh quietly.

"Noted. Anyway, there's this case..."

*****

So, it's 3 in the morning, it's still 26° Celsius outside and I already forgot half of what I wrote. I'm also too exhausted to read over it now, so if there are any mistakes, my apologies 😅

Also I didn't make a tag list now, but I'm gonna tag the people who asked anyway. If you want to get tagged too in future fics, please let me know, and also let me know if you wanna get tagged for destiel, cockles, or both 😊

💙💙💙

@green-blue-heller @sam--ships--it

[curlynerd]

What He Wants

Happy gift posting day for @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! My gift recipient is @bipridedean! She requested a Destiel, canon-adjacent fic, so here it is! I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 2.6K Rating: G Summary: 5 times Dean said "I do" and 1 time he didn’t. Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Destiel wedding

Also read it on AO3!

1.

The first time it happens Sam is the only one to hear it. They’re alone in the bunker, surrounded by months and months of tireless research. But finally, finally, Dean thinks they’ve discovered how to get into the Empty.

Dean wants to push through the night and get a portal up and running as soon as possible. Sam insists they both go to bed, pleading with Dean that he won’t be able to concentrate on the spellwork to maintain it without at least a few hours of sleep.

Dean spends most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his head at a hundred miles an hour. This time tomorrow, he could have Cas back. This time tomorrow he can--Dean is almost afraid to think it, afraid that giving form to what he wants will somehow curse it and stop it from ever coming true. After all, the thing he wanted most before this was for Cas to love him back, and that didn’t exactly end rosy.

Still, as Dean finally closes his eyes, he allows himself a small, private wish. He hopes this will be the last time he falls asleep alone.

The next morning, they’re both expecting some sort of bump in the road, some rare ingredient or some missing incantation that will set them back even longer, keep Dean from seeing Cas again for God knows how long. But fortune is on their side, and Sam executes the spell flawlessly.

Dean is armed to the teeth with every weapon and protection spell they could collect on short notice. His plan for finding Cas and dragging him back home sits clearly at the front of his mind. His heart pounds in his ears, fast but steady and strong.

“You know, if this doesn’t work, you could get stuck there. I might not be able to open a new portal.” Sam looks at the pulsating mass of black that serves as the portal to the Empty. Worry is etched deeply into his forehead. “Do you really want to do this?”

Dean thinks of Cas’ face, the way he had smiled as he said he loved him. He thinks of how he was so close to having the one thing he really wanted. How Cas had wanted the same.

There’s no peace in loneliness.

Dean tightens his grip on his angel blade, his jaw set, his eyes determined. He’s ready to get his angel back. “Yeah. I do.”

2.

The second time it happens, it takes Cas by surprise. It’s been a week since Dean heroically pulled the love of his life from the Empty...and also since Dean lost all remaining courage. He choked. His unspoken response to Cas’ confession is a taut tension wire between them, keeping them inches apart, words suffocating in their tightly sealed mouths, both terrified to say anything and risk breaking something that can’t be mended.

Dean hates himself for it. It’s cowardice is what it is. It’s a lifetime of desperately fighting against the things that make him vulnerable. Against wanting things. Against believing anyone could love him. Even with Cas’ confession still crystal clear in his memories, Dean doubts.

He is deep into those self-deprecating thoughts when he finds Cas in the garage, struggling to figure out how to change a flat tire on his truck from a Youtube video.

“Cas? What’re you doing?”

Cas startles and immediately hunches his shoulders in guilt. He wasn’t expecting to be caught. “Dean.” He looks down at the lug wrench in his hand, and Dean can see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to concoct a cover story before he shrugs and gives up the truth. “I was trying to fix the truck.”

“You need to go somewhere? Cuz I can just drive you.” Dean’s heart pounds, his mouth going dry. Cas wouldn’t need to sneak around for a little errand.

Cas shakes his head and confirms Dean’s fears. “I wanted to have it ready. In case I needed to leave.”

“Leave?” Dean repeats, and his blood goes cold.

Cas deflates a little, resigned and sad. “I assume I’ll need to soon.”

“You can’t leave!” ‘Tell him!’ screams in Dean’s mind, but he can’t. He can’t. What if he’s wrong? What if Cas doesn’t love him like that? What if Cas doesn’t love him at all anymore? What if Dean screwed it up by staying silent and Cas realized he deserves to be with someone who can provide a simple answer to “I love you?” What if--

“I don’t want to,” Cas says softly. The pain is evident in his eyes as they flicker to his truck, like he expects to need to book it out of here at any moment. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here after--” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he amends.

“Cas, this is your home, same as me and Sam.” Cas doesn’t look so convinced. “C’mon man, you really think we don’t want you around?” Dean leans against the side of Cas’ truck to ground himself. “Cas, I want you here.” ‘I want more than that,’ he thinks, and it would be so easy to say what he really needs to say, but he can’t. He fights viciously with his own self-esteem, ripping at it, begging it to let him say more. “Please don’t leave,” he says, small and helpless, and it’s like moving a mountain to say that much.

Cas’ expression softens into longing. His hand clenches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out to Dean, but he smiles a soft, incredulous smile. “I can stay? You really mean it?”

Dean swallows thickly. A hundred words crowd his throat, fighting to get out, but his own fears win this round and keep them down. Instead all he can manage is a choked, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

3.

The third time it happens, it takes them both by surprise. They’d gone on a hunt, just the two of them while Sam was visiting Eileen, and everything had gone sideways. What they thought was just a troublemaking demon turned out to be an extremely powerful witch, one with more than enough experience in Enochian magic to put Cas in serious danger. And of course Cas was reckless in his desire to protect Dean, and only managed to avoid getting killed by quick thinking and, to be honest, a helluva lot of luck.

The fight left Cas injured, and Dean pissed. “What the hell were you thinking!” he scolds at the end of a cold, silent drive back to the bunker.

“I did what I needed,” Cas shoots back with a steely glare.

“No, you didn’t need to go rushing in like that!” Dean’s worry leeches out as anger, the fear of losing Cas yet again clouding his reasoning that Dean himself would have died without Cas’ quick action. “You could have gotten a lot more hurt!”

“Why does it even matter to you?” Cas yells back, and it’s the note of hysterical bitterness darkening his words that makes Dean snap and say what he’s been hiding for far too long.

“Because I love you, you stubborn ass!”

The words freeze in the air between them, sharp and strong, wedging themself right where Dean’s anger was just a moment ago.

“You...love me?” Cas asks, his voice small, his eyes big.

And like that, Dean’s fears seem so foolish. Cas loves him. Cas died because just admitting he loves him was the happiest moment of his life. Cas has already done the hardest, scariest part for him. Dean doesn’t even have to fear Cas not feeling the same.

Silently, Dean takes a single step forward. Cas is frozen on the spot, staring at him like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He takes another step, and another, until he’s close enough to reach out and tug Cas into an embrace.

“Of course,” Dean breathes. He holds Cas close, tucking his chin over his shoulder and squeezing tight, like he never wants to let go. He doesn’t ever want to let go. Cas is slower to react, but when his arms finally wind around Dean, he breathes out a soft, sobbing gasp and clings to Dean. Dean turns his head to bury his nose in Cas’ hair. “Of course I do.”

4.

The fourth time it happens, Cas doesn’t even hear it. Cas found out about a nearby crafts fair, and all it took was one particularly soulful look from those big blue eyes of his, and Dean was driving them a full hour and a half away to look at homemade pottery and local honey and overpriced tacky mesh wreaths and pretending that the entire atmosphere of the place wasn’t giving him hives.

Cas is having a blast. Dean is carrying bags and lurking in the shadiest spots he can find away from the summer heat while Cas browses. Cas is having an animated conversation about beekeeping with a honey merchant when Dean ducks into a large tent filled with the kind of flowy, bedazzled, polyester shirts he thinks of as “PTA Chic” because they also happen to have a large fan blowing.

“Lookin’ for something in particular, sugar?” The tent owner saunters over to Dean, her Southern accent thick and her top scandalously low. She’s stunningly pretty, and Dean’s eyes and smile light up out of a lifetime of habit. She responds in kind, dragging her eyes down, then back up Dean’s body. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lookin’ for more than clothes.”

Dean chuckles and flashes her his best charming, but chagrined smile. He feels a little guilty for leading her on, and he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Oh sweetheart, if I were single, I’d gladly take you up on that offer, but I’ve already got my special someone.” Dean nods to the honey booth next door.

Her eyes trail over to where Dean gestured, and for a split second her brow furrows in confusion before she laughs just a little, more incredulous than cruel. “You really want someone like that over me?”

Dean looks over at Cas. And, yeah, Dean gets the question. He’s a grown-ass man wearing cargo shorts, carrying a canvas bag with the most obnoxious sunglasses-wearing beach ball Dean has ever seen, and his hair looks like it's been electrocuted. Dean grins, feeling a rush of fondness for his dorky, criminally unfashionable angel.

“Yeah,” he says softly, without an ounce of hesitation. There’s no one else in the world for him but Cas. “Yeah, I do.”

5.

The fifth time Dean says it, Cas is the only other person around for miles. He drags Cas out of bed bright and early one Saturday, forcing him into the car before he’s even fully finished his coffee. Cas allows it, only because he can tell Dean is positively vibrating with nervous energy. Dean brushes off all of his prying questions during the long drive until they finally arrive at a small, peaceful meadow in the middle of nowhere.

He’s packed a lunch, because ostensibly this outing is meant to be a picnic, even though Cas is suspicious on that fact alone. Dean never picnics. It doesn’t really matter though, because Dean is too nervous to even consider eating.

“So why are we really here?” Cas asks after a few minutes of nibbling at his chips. Dean’s sandwich lays untouched on the blanket.

Dean steels his nerve and takes a deep breath. “Do you know where this is?” he asks, fighting the jittery bouncing of his heartbeat to keep his voice steady.

Cas nods. “This is where I returned when Jack resurrected me.” He looks around, smiling down at the flowers surrounding the two of them. The windmill behind him creaks softly in the wind.

“And where I spread your ashes.” Dean’s fidgeting fingers find a frayed edge on the blanket, and he starts picking at it.

Cas nods again and remains silent, patiently waiting for Dean to find the rest of his words.

“And it’s…” Dean pulls a thread out of the blanket and lets it fly away in the wind. “This is where I realized I love you. I’m an idiot who didn’t even realize how much I loved you until after you were gone.”

Cas leans forward and rests his hand on Dean’s knee, warm and reassuring. Dean continues, “At the time I’d thought, ‘I can’t do this. I don’t want to live without him.’ Which was stupid because you were already dead. It didn’t matter what I wanted.”

Cas squeezes his knee. His eyes are gentle. “We’re both okay now.”

Dean’s heart warms. “Yeah. We are. But you know I...That feeling’s never gone away. You and me? I want us to be forever.” Dean reaches into his pocket. There’s no small velvet box, no shimmering diamonds, just a thick band of practical silver he found at a pawn shop. He looks down at the ring with a tender smile. “Man, never in a million years did I think I’d ever be doing this,” he marvels, and when he looks up, Cas’ eyes are wide with surprise.

“Dean?” His normally steady voice wavers.

Dean reaches for Cas’ face, his thumb gently stroking across his cheek. He holds up the ring. “What do you say, Cas? Wanna go legit about this?”

Cas’ expression is impossibly soft, eyes overflowing with love and devotion. He swallows thickly around a lump in his throat and takes the ring from Dean. He slides it onto his finger and stares at it like it’s his own personal miracle.

“You’re serious, Dean? You really want to get married?”

Dean smiles as he leans in close. Just before he kisses his new fiance, he whispers, “Of course I do.”

6.

The sun is setting, casting long shadows down the sand. The shifting winds coming from the sea carry a chill, making the little crowd gathered around them draw their jackets close and huddle together, but the smiles on their faces are nothing but warm. There’s no altar. No stage. No decorations. Just Cas and Dean, standing in front of the ocean, wearing their favorite flannels and jeans, two bright yellow black-eyed susans pinned to their shirts--stolen right out of someone’s garden on their way to the beach.

They didn’t even bother trying to put out chairs for the ceremony, not knowing how many of their friends and family would be able to make the long drive to see Dean get hitched to his angel, but in the end it’s a good thing, because damn near everyone came, and they need to crowd in close to hear them over the wind.

It’s completely and utterly perfect.

Dean grins, unable to take his eyes off Cas while Donna, the only member of his overly-emotional family he trusts not to bawl her eyes out through the ceremony, finishes the last of their vows.

“Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your, well, not so lawfully wedded husband?”

There’s a twitter of laughter from the crowd. Cas smiles a sweet, crooked smile and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I do.” His voice is soft, meant for Dean’s ears only, because Dean is the only one his promise matters to.

“And do you, Dean Winchester, FBI’s Most Wanted, thrice dead criminal, and the terribly generous gentleman who will surely be covering our drinks on this celebratory evening, take Castiel to be your husband?”

Dean looks at Cas. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, his eyes are impossibly blue. His smile is so warm Dean knows he’ll never feel cold again, so long as he can see it every day. Dean beams back and proclaims loud enough for everyone on the beach to hear, “Oh hell yes!”

[michaelmilligan]

Destiel fix-it fic (post 15x19)

Okay so this is 1,8k of fix-it for that horrible shit we call an 'ending'. Yes, I am still not over the finale. No, I will not take criticism at this time. (I meant to work on a genderfluid Dean(na) fic which will likely have several parts, but this wouldn't leave my brain so here you go. No beta, just pure rage against the machine that churned out the finale.) (Also my first time adding a cut so if it doesn't work please tell me.)

Dean hadn't taken it well. Not that Sam could blame him. He himself was still struggling with everything that had happened. Chuck snapping everyone away, the fear and the desperation... But they won, and everyone was back. Well, everyone except Cas.

Dean had said “just us” and Sam had said the same and they had driven for a while and it had been good to be on the road, to finally be free. But at the end of the day, it wasn't just them, and that was good too. Great even. There were Jody and the girls. Eileen. Donna. Charlie and Stevie. Garth and his family. All these people they knew and loved, everyone they cared about. Everyone was safe. Everything was good.

Except for Cas.

It had taken a few days for it to really sink in for Sam that he was gone. After all, he hadn't been there when it had happened. Hell, Dean had never even really told him how it went down. But Dean's grief was undeniable, the way he drunk himself into oblivion, much like the last time they had lost Cas, when they had also lost their mom. Both losses had been temporary, but they hadn't known that at the time.

Now their mom was gone for good, up in Heaven and apparently happy. And Cas was gone too, probably in the Empty if he was dead. Sam missed him, of course he did. He was their best friend, the other father in their trio, however weird that sounded. Also Sam also missed Jack, not knowing if they would ever see him again, now that he was almighty and all that. But Sam handled it, he always handled it, and he had Eileen to keep him company, to hold him when he needed to cry.

Dean had noone, hadn't had anyone in years. Maybe he had never had anyone who would do that for him, and Sam was starting to worry about Dean's liver as well as his mental health. Not that any of them could be great in that department, but so far they had always been able to keep it together. Now Sam wasn't so sure.

As he walked into the kitchen, he half expected to find Dean slumped over, drooling onto the kitchen table with a half-full bottle of whiskey in his hand. Instead, the room was empty, no empty bottles in sight. Huh.

Sam set out in search for his brother, trying his room first but finding it just as empty. It took him several minutes before he ducked his head into the library, and finally saw Dean sitting at a table, several books open in front of him.

“Dean? What are you doing?”

Dean's shoulders tensed for a moment, but he didn't turn around.

“Research,” he said gruffly, sounding like he had woken up less than an hour ago.

“On what? You got a case?” Sam came into the room, looking over the books. He saw Enochian, an angel summoning spell, a dictionary... “What's this for?”

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. “Cas,” he croaked out. “We've got to... there has to be a way.”

“Dean. I thought you said he was dead. You know we can't... There's no way to get him from the Empty.”

Dean gritted his teeth, looking like he was about to snap. “That dude almost got Lucifer out, but we can't get Cas back?” He sprang up, walking towards the nearest shelf just to stare at it.

“Dean. What even happened? How did... you never told me what happened,” Sam tried, hoping against hope that his brother wouldn't just clam up like every other goddamn time he tried to talk about something difficult.

“He... he just. Goddamnit, he said- He- he made a deal with the Empty and then-”

“Wait, what? The Empty was there? Why the hell would he make a-”

“No, I mean. Before. He made the deal to save Jack, back when... It agreed to take him instead of Jack, but only... only if... and he said...” Dean's shoulders were shaking as he leaned his forehead against the shelf. “He... he summoned it. The Empty. To take him away so it would take Billie too. And I... I couldn't do anything. There was... we had no weapons, nothing to fight the Empty, nothing to fight Billie and he...” Sam couldn't see his face, but he could hear the tears in his voice.

“Okay. Okay.” Sam let out a deep breath. It wasn't the first time one of them had sacrificed himself for the others. And like any other time, Dean couldn't let it go. Well, not that Sam had always been able to. “So you want to get him back. You think that's wise?”

Dean whirled to him, his eyes hard and full of tears. “What?”

“I'm just saying... Cas sacrificed himself to save you. And now you're going to endanger yourself to get him back, do you think that's really what he wants? And even if we had a way of getting to the Empty, who says that we're gonna be able to get Cas out, or that the Empty won't just snatch him again as soon as we're back on Earth?”

But Dean's face had completely shuttered closed. This was one of the times were no logical arguments would get through to him.

“I'll find a way,” he said, turning back to the shelf to sort through the books.

Sam sighed, and after watching his brother for a while, he left him to it, deciding to let him grieve in his own way.

It was about three days later when Sam heard a noise from the entrance. Frowning, he walked towards it, wondering if Dean had invited anyone. Eileen wasn't scheduled to come over, but maybe she had wanted to surprise him? He had told her not to come, didn't want her to see Dean like that, but then again when did she ever listen to him?

When he saw who was coming down the stairs from the entrance, Sam felt his eyes widen.

“Jack!”

The boy – God, whatever – smiled and raised his hand.

“Dean! Dean, Jack is here,” Sam called in the direction of the corrdor, then hurried over to him. He hesitated, not sure if you were supposed to hug the newly appointed God. But Jack was his son and he had missed him, so in the end he pulled him into a tight hug. Jack returned it, squeezing him and still smiling when they pulled apart.

Which was when Sam noticed the other figure coming down the stairs and he gasped. “Cas?” He looked at Jack, who just kept smiling, and Sam laughed and pulled Cas into a hug, too. Cas returned it, though a little more carefully than Jack, and his smile wasn't as bright. Maybe a little... shy? Embarrassed?

“Dean? Dean! It's- Dean, get your ass over here!” Sam called again, hardly believing their luck.

Dean jerked awake to a stiff neck and an aching back, hunched over on the library table, drool on a three-hundred year old book. He thought he'd heard Sam, calling for him, and he got up to walk out of the library in spite of his protesting body. “Sam?” he called as walked along the corridor, anxiety forming in his gut. What if something was wrong? What if they were under attack? What if the next big villain – whoever that might be after thee actual God – was here to get them? Or maybe just some regular monster, ready to tear them apart, taking them by surprise?

Dean pulled his gun and tread carefully, peering around each corner before rounding it. He heard voices from the entrance, and by the time he was almost at the door, he heard a laugh. It sounded like Sam... He still peeked around the door frame before getting in and saw Jack, just standing there, looking comfortable.

“Jack?” Dean made his way over to him quickly, not believing his eyes. “What are you- I thought you-”

“Dean!” Jack beamed at him and Dean couldn't not pull him into a hug.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi.” Jack squeezed him tight.

When Dean looked towards Sam, he also saw... no. This wasn't possible, was it? Dean pulled back, eyes wide, just staring for a moment before he turned towards Jack. “You- how-”

“I know I said I'd be hands-off, but...” Jack shrugged, looking apologetic. “I didn't want to be.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, his eyes going back to Cas. His eyes were prickling, and he suddenly noticed how Cas evaded his eyes, peering up at him from beneath his eyelashes almost shyly.

“Thank you,” Dean said to Jack, aware of the tremor in his voice, and then he rushed towards Cas.

“You goddamn- fucking moron,” he hissed as he wrapped him in the tightest hug he might have ever given anyone. “Stupid fucking dumbass.”

“Uh,” Cas made, sounding insecure. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean gripped him the shoulders when he pulled back, then put his hands on Cas' face. “You fucking- what does that even mean, huh? 'It's in the just saying it'. What the fuck. What the actual fuck!”

Cas squinted at him, opened his mouth, closed it again.

“You-” Dean cut himself off, running out of words, so he kissed Cas instead. It was a rough kiss, and long, and Cas seemed to have trouble keeping up, his hands coming up to claw at the flannel on Dean's back.

Dean was vaguely aware of a gasp behind him, but he was still laser-focused on Cas, glaring daggers at him.

“You maybe wanna re-think that?” He shoved him.

“Uh, I- I do?” Cas said, still looking terribly confused, and Dean couldn't help but kiss him again, just as roughly at first but getting softer over time until they were just breathing each other's air.

“You fucking asshole. You could have said something sooner! Before you got your ass dragged to the-” Dean stopped, feeling his face going through several emotions at once.

Cas squinted at him. “So could you.”

Dean stared at him, hearing Jack say “What's wrong, Sam?”, and yet he still couldn't have cared less.

“Goddamnit, you're right, we're both dumbasses.” When Cas opened his mouth, he added: “No, Cas, 'trusting' really doesn't cut it here.”

Cas huffed out a laugh – and wasn't that a sight for sore eyes. Dean kissed him again, hearing Jack in the background: “Wait, is this something new? I always thought they were just not very public about it.”

Dean grinned against Cas' lips, and Cas smiled back as Dean pulled him into another hug.

Meanwhile, Jack was still talking: “You know what, I think they need a minute. And I want to eat Crunch Cookie Crunch. Do you still have any?”

[shakspeare]

faith is the ache

→ dean/cas fic → circa season four. it’s the emo soldier of god for me.  → this is 90% kink y’all, most definitely rated r.  → ao3 link here if you’d rather read there → first time destiel writer the renaissance rly hit hard

Cas and Dean’s first kiss is a battlefield kiss.

It’s raw and desperate and bloody, torn from Cas’s lips like salvation, a prayer. Dean’s never been a praying man, but if this is faith, he’s a goddamn saint. He can taste blood on Cas’s tongue, feel Cas’s breath through his ribs, rushed and angry and brutal.

This is faith.

Faith is the way his fingers feel like they’re about to break. Faith is the way he’s holding Cas to him the same way he’d hold onto his gun. Faith is Cas’s eyelashes, dark and wet, ghosting against his cheek. Faith is every stolen breath and broken bone, every stabbing pain, every gasp, every tear, every loss.

Faith is the ache.

The world burns red through his eyelids; he opens his eyes. Releases his angel.

“Sam!” he roars, spinning on his heel, staring into the fray. The woodland’s half on fire, some demon coughing up its guts at his feet. He slams his heel down on its throat, scanning the tree line.

“Sam!”

“Let’s move!” Sam’s spat out of the forest like a rocket, tearing over the waste ground between them. Dean doesn’t need telling twice. He hauls Cas to his feet and they run.

The forest blurs past them in shadow and ash. The night’s dark; freakishly so. No stars. A volley of sparks explodes in the air above their heads; they flinch, keep running. Things had gone wrong, gone very badly wrong. Dean stumbles on the broken earth, curses under his breath. It was a trap, that should’ve been obvious. He was off his game.

“Dean?” The angel’s voice is curious, not yet practised in concern. Dean jerks his head; keep moving.

“I’m fine,” he barks, and Cas turns, keeps going.

“Here!” Sam’s voice comes low through the trees, and Dean gives a sigh of relief. He thought they’d overshot by a mile, but the Impala is just visible in the darkness. Least something’s gone to plan. His heart’s hammering against his ribs and something feels really wrong there. Broken, he’s guessing. He drops into the driver’s seat, fumbles for the keys. Half a second to breathe, and then he’s gunning baby’s engine to freaking Timbuktu. He reaches out to yank the door shut, but Cas is there, suddenly, holding it still. He stares down at Dean, eyes wide, hair going every which way.

“I’ll lead them off,” he says, and his voice is rough and low. “I doubt we will go undisturbed.”

Dean blinks, Cas takes a step back—

“Wait, Cas!”

He tilts his head, frowns at Dean. Dean gives himself a shake; man, he’s losing it.

“Get in the car.” The angel looks at him almost pityingly.

“No, thank you. I’m much faster out of it.”

“I’m not offering you a lift, you goddamn hippie,” There’s something moving in the trees. He slides the key into the ignition, keeps his voice low.

“You going off alone, that’s exactly what they’ll be expecting.” Castiel hesitates, still staring at him.

“Get in the damn car!”

Cas slides into the backseat just as he guns the engine and the angels break the clearing; the Impala snarls and jerks forward over the rough earth, spraying up dirt and stone in her wake, and if he said that didn’t satisfy him to hell, he’d be lying. He yanks the steering wheel hard left, spinning them out onto the freeway, and in 30 seconds he’s put miles between them and their heavenly little tete a tete. Cars flicker past either side of them, and Dean’s eyes flick up to the rearview. Cas’s baby blues are fixed firmly on the road ahead, that little frown quirking his brow.

“So it was a trap,” Sam grimaces, running a finger down the gash in his arm.

“Woah, dude!” Dean exclaims. “Upholstery, blood; blood, upholstery!” Sam ignores him, reaching out a bloody finger and daubing some hokey symbol on the passenger side window.

“Angel proofing, dumb-ass. They won’t be able to find us.”

Angel proofing. Right. Dean grumbles under his breath. It’s not the worst idea in the world. The pain in his ribs flares and he winces.

Yeah, they need some off-radar time.

“Check the map,” he nods at the roadmap on the floor at Sam’s feet. “Find us somewhere to crash. My four hours is calling my name.” His eyes flick back up to the rearview. No reason why.

***

The nearest motel’s about an hour’s drive. Sam falls asleep in his seat; Dean flicks on the radio. Adrenaline’s coursing through him like a freight train; it always does, after a hunt. He flexes his fingers against the wheel, shifts in his seat. Feels good. Feels strong.

His lips are burning.

“You ok?” The words come out a little gruffer than he’d intended. He clears his throat, keeps his eyes fixed on the road. It’s just the polite thing to do. Ask. For a minute he thinks Cas might’ve angel-ed out, but then—

“I am uninjured.” Right. “Great.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, itching to do… something. He needs a drink. A sleazy bar. Pounding music.

“But I… feel strange.”

He can’t help it; he glances up at Cas’s reflection. Cas is gazing out at the night, frowning.

“Strange how?”

“I should have known it was a trap,” Cas murmurs. “There were warning signs. I failed to notice them. I failed to keep you safe.”

“Guilt. That’s called guilt, Cas.”

Cas sighs.

“It’s not a big deal, no one got hurt.” He ignores the stabbing pain in his side; he’s had worse. “Everyone make mistakes. It’s uh, human.”

Cas’s searching gaze meets his and he swallows, looks quickly back to the road. Jesus. A scattergun of images flicker past in his mind’s eye; Cas, bright-eyed, burning, in the split second before he kissed him; Cas, in the barn, sparks exploding in the air around him, hair lit up like some dollar store invocation of Jesus Christ; and another, something he’s not sure he’s ready to think about yet; Cas, with bruised lips, shirt collar open and staring at him like he’s seeing for the first time.

Yeah, he’s itching to do something, alright.

“Dean.”

He jerks out of his reverie, slides the steering wheel left a little, keeps them straight. Eyes on the road. Get it together. Right. He shifts a little in his seat, pretends like Cas’s gaze isn’t burning a hole in the back of his neck. His cock twitches in his jeans.

“Alright!” He clears his throat, reaches over to the radio. “If you’re gonna slum it on earth with the rest of us, you gotta live the whole experience. Guilt, shame, the whole nine yards. Now this,” he raises his voice over House of the Rising Sun, “this is a whole experience of it’s own.”

Cas frowns a little. Dean sighs, leans back in his seat. Resists the urge to shift his hips, let the denim friction graze his dick. Jesus Christ, there’s something in the air. He risks a glance at Cas again; he’s gazing out his window now, thank god, watching headlights flicker past.

Alright. It’s not like he hasn’t been with men before. It’s no big deal, right? Except — and this is the kicker — sucking some trucker off for twenty dollars is pretty fucking different. Isn’t it? His heart skips a little in his chest, imagines Cas looking down at him, Cas running deft fingers through his hair. Yeah, it’s different. Different like, there’s a part of him that wants to pull the car over and get on his knees right now. He remembers the heat of Cas pressing against his chest, rough and aching; remembers the sting of his angel blade, caught between them and digging into his side.

Is Cas thinking about it? Do angels get turned on?

He’s not even sure why he did it, why he stepped over the angel Cas had just gutted and wrapped his fist in Cas’s shirt. He remembers the last time he had sex; in that strip joint with some hooker — he’d barely started railing her when all hell broke loose and he and Cas had to book it out the back. Does this feel like that? His dick twitches at the memory; the chick buck naked and spreading her legs, widening her come-fuck-me eyes. He frowns, shifts, remembers the puzzled expression on Cas’s face before he kissed him.

Nah, this is different. He doesn’t know why — the chick was hot, Cas is hot, his dick’s sure as hell into both. But it is. It is different.

Cas is still silent in the backseat. What’s he thinking about? I feel strange. Probably still grappling with his newfound guilt, whatever that feels like for an angel. I failed to keep you safe. Dean snorts. Right. Safe. When has anyone ever worried about his safety before? He barely worries about it himself. His mind fritzes for a hot second; faceless men in truck stop bathrooms; this week’s monster, teeth bared and barrelling out of the darkness; dad, waking him up at three in the morning and thrusting a sawn-off into his hands.

Safe doesn’t figure. It just doesn’t. And if he slammed on the brakes and insisted the angel in the backseat fuck him in the next lay-by, there’d be nothing safe about that either. He shifts, presses his dick against the rough fabric of his jeans. A single streetlamp bursts overhead as they fly beneath it, and in the shower of sparks, he sees Cas, bright blue eyes, one hand gripping the back of Dean’s neck like he owns him.

They make it to the motel somewhere round two in the morning. Seeing Cas properly for the first time since he kissed him is a freaking test. It starts to rain as they haul their bags out the trunk, and Cas has done nothing to fix his shirt, where Dean had wrapped his fingers in his collar and claimed him just hours before. He looks a goddamn mess. Dean swallows, slams the car door, wonders if there’s a bar anywhere nearby. Cas maintains his angelic silence as they cross the lot, stumble into the motel reception. Sam stays awake just long enough to check in, scrawl a bunch of sigils on the window, and then collapse on his twin bed, shoes on, dead to the world.

Dean slings his duffel onto the vacant bed. He’d gotten a twin room on autopilot, hadn’t even thought about it. Now it feels weird. He clears his throat, gives himself a shake. Tries to ignore the ache in his throat. God, he needs a drink. Or something.

Cas is stood at the window, gazing out at the blinking neon sign. White Rose Motel.

“Uh, Cas— ” Cas turns, looks at him expectantly. “What are you, uh—”

He was going to ask what Cas was gonna do all night, going to ask if he wanted his own room, hell, maybe angels like their privacy, he doesn’t know. But Cas is gazing at him, throat exposed, and Christ, he doesn’t remember the last time he wanted to fuck someone this badly. Dean glances at Sammy, passed out on the bed, and clears his throat.

“Outside?”

Cas narrows his eyes a fraction, and then nods, the tiniest movement. He closes the space between them, and when he presses his hand to Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s knees almost give way.

***

The air vanishes, twists; rain glitters on the sidewalk; the night fills Dean’s lungs, and he can’t wait, can’t wait another goddamn second. His fists find Cas’s shirt and he seizes him, pulls him close; his head collides with the wall behind him; the pain in his ribs flares like an open wound, and he doesn’t give a damn, doesn’t give a damn about anything. He’s done thinking. Sex is sex, and he’s a freaking cowboy. He needs this.

He can taste Cas’s blood on his tongue, feel Cas's lips against his, rough and punishing and claiming. Mine, mine, mine, and oh god, he wants to die here. Suddenly, Cas’s hand locks onto his wrist like a vice, and he steps back; Dean’s eyes snap up to meet his; strange, blue—

There are unspoken questions in Cas’s eyes, in the persistent frown that quirks his brow. His grip tightens on Dean’s wrist, and he presses Dean back against the wall; he can feel the damp coming through his shirt, feel the rain, soft, on his forehead. Dean can’t remember the last time he was this turned on; he doesn’t want to stop, to think, he just wants Cas—

“Cas, please—” It falls unbidden from his lips, and in the silent seconds that follow it feels like heresy. He’s hard as hell, and the angel at his throat is looking at him like he wants to tear him apart, and god, if that doesn’t turn him on more. Dean finds his voice, chokes out a word.

“Please.”

Cas’s fingers wrap around Dean’s throat, and he can’t tell if he’s about to kiss him, or kill him, or both—

Then Cas kisses him and he moans; a prayer that’s snuffed out by the press of Cas’s mouth against his own and suddenly he’s desperate, starving; his hands find the back of Castiel’s neck and he holds him to him, panting, pressing into Cas’s kiss like he wants to die on the altar of his lips. He gasps into Cas’s mouth, inhaling liquor and salt and copper. Cas shifts against him, open palm against his chest and—

The pain in his ribs flares suddenly, sharp and hot.

“You lied,” Cas whispers. “You’re hurt.”

Dean nods, doesn’t know how he manages it, but he does.

“Ah— yeah. It’s nothing. It’s nothing, Cas.”

He doesn’t want this to be over, he can’t have this be over, not yet. Cas passes a hand over his ribs, gazing at Dean like he’s lost in thought. Dean winces as his hand slides across the break; he can’t help it. Cas’s eyes flicker silver.

“You should let me heal it.”

“Right. Yes. Okay, Cas. Heal it, please— and then—”

“Pray to me,” Cas murmurs.

“Wh— what?” 

His eyes are gleaming, hair lit up by the street-lamps, glittering with the fallen rain. He looks fucking otherworldly, divine. He loosens his grip on Dean’s throat, and suddenly he’s full of something Dean doesn’t recognise. All he knows is that he craves it, needs it, dark and bright and strong and holy.

When he falls to his knees, it doesn’t feel anything other than right. He doesn’t question it, doesn’t think. When Cas runs his fingers through his hair, tilts his chin up to the sky, the ache in his chest subsides. The rain continues to fall, and the cold is creeping into his bones, but he doesn’t care. This is different.

He prays. He wants to. He wants Cas to be his, and he wants to be Cas’s, forever. Cas whispers to him softly, voice almost lost in this hiss of the falling rain. He lets him drag his tongue over his cock, lets him taste it, kiss it, and then — once he’s asked and begged and prayed a hundred times — Cas answers his prayer, thrusts his cock between his lips. He tastes like ichor and iron and wine and his fingers wind a little tighter in Dean’s hair. Dean’s never wanted to please someone this badly in his goddamn life. He’s good at sucking cock, he knows he is, but for Cas, he wants to be better than good. He wants Cas to need him, to know him, to never leave him. He runs his tongue down the length of Cas’s cock, wraps his hand around the base. He drags his tongue over the head, slow and rough and teasing. He keeps his eyes on Cas’s. When his cock hits the back of his throat, Dean feels like he’s about to fucking ascend. When Cas pulls him to his feet it feels like rapture. His legs are shaking; he all but collapses against him, his angel, and then Cas’s lips find his and Cas holds him up, pressing softer kisses on him now, sweet and deft and silent.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and Dean feels lightheaded.

“Yeah?” he manages to breathe, in between Cas’s soft, persistent kisses.

“Yes,” Cas murmurs simply. “That was good,” and Jesus Christ, why does hearing that drive him crazy? Cas’s hand finds the tear in Dean’s ribs, palm like an open flower, and there’s a moment, warmth, and the pain is gone. Dean moans into Cas’s kiss, keening, presses his hips against him. For a moment Cas pulls back; Dean’s left breathless, aching, Cas’s fingers tracing the line of his jaw. Then the air around them rents itself in two, and suddenly Cas’s lips are on him again, but the world is upside down; the wall is gone; the air is closer, drier—

He tries to right himself, get purchase, and realises he’s flat out, sheets beneath his head. Cas’s had is still at his jaw, gentle, kind, and he realises with a lurch that the angel is fucking straddling him. He gasps, pressing up into Cas’s kiss so hard he can feel the bruise it’s going to leave on his lips.

“Where—” he manages to breathe out, the last vestige of his dignity wondering where exactly they are, though right now he’s so turned on he’d gladly beg Cas to fuck him in front of a freaking bar full of people — his dick twitches in his pants at that thought and he thinks he notices Cas’s eyes darken — that’s a thought to explore at a later date —

“An unoccupied room. This motel is not popular,” Cas murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of Dean’s throat. His hands find Dean’s, loosening his grip on him, and Dean whines in protest; he wants to pull him closer, find some goddamn friction, never let go.

“Quiet,” Cas murmurs. His hands slide along Dean’s wrists, guide them up over his head, press them into the mattress, and Dean’s breath comes out in a little stutter. Cas blinks at him with those fucking weird, cosmic eyes, and then he’s closer still, pressing little butterfly kisses to his neck. Dean tilts his head back to the stars and gasps. The ache in his chest feels like holy fire, and he forgets everything — god, girls, demons, devils. All he can be sure of are the hands on his wrists, the mouth at his throat, the blood on his tongue, the split in his lip.

“Dean,” Cas’s voice vibrates, soft, just by his ear. A shiver runs down his spine; his eyes flutter shut.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s weight shifts slightly; Dean opens his eyes.

Cas’s eyes are bright in the shadows; he’s tossed his coat aside. There’s still blood on his shirt, staining the white, patterning his throat. He can see it when Cas looks away, lifts his chin and gazes across the room He shifts beneath him, a little, til his cock is pressing into Cas’s thigh.

“What?”

“Are you sure?” Cas’s gaze meets his, and there’s no challenge, no threat. Dean’s stomach flips over when he recognises the glimmer in his eyes. There’s no challenge because it’s all possession. Quiet, unyielding, simple. As if it’s all there is.

He swallows. “Yes. I’m sure.”

There’s a split second where Cas doesn’t move, only blinks at him, and he grinds his hips up into Cas in frustration, voice coming out in a whine—

“Please.”

And then Cas’s kissing him like he’s about to die. The press of his body against Dean’s is like a blessing, something otherworldly and dangerous and close to god. Dean can’t think, can’t breathe, can only arch up into the angel at his throat and pray, a broken string of words and sounds and promises that tumble from his lips without thought. When Cas lets go his wrists, his hands tangle in Cas’s hair, trace the curve of his jaw, the hollow of his throat. Cas’s shirt is gone, and he jerks his own off over his head, rough and careless, and when Cas’s palm presses against the brand on his shoulder like it’s a prayer, a rite, some secret sacred invocation that only they know, only they will ever know, Dean loses his mind, desperate, aching—

Cas draws back for a split second. His hair is tousled, his skin like marble in the half light. Dean’s heart is hammering like it’s going to leap out of his chest; he gasps, breathes, collapses back onto the bed.

“Cas,” he whispers, hands restless, reaching. “Come back, come back, please.”

He feels Cas’s weight shift, move, and when he opens his eyes Cas is beside him, eyelashes ghosting against his cheek. His lips press softly against Dean’s jaw, just below his ear, and suddenly Dean’s eyes are wet, and he has no idea why. His hands find his belt; he slips free of his jeans, his pants. He knows what he wants, and he doesn’t want to stop, to think. The air is warm against his naked skin but he feels vulnerable, strange; he rolls towards Cas, shields himself against his body.

Cas catches his chin with the pad of his thumb; soft, tender. He traces the sides of his body with the tips of his fingers, and his eyes are dark, brilliant, and Dean’s trembling because this is different, this is different from any guy, any girl, anyone he’s ever been with before. No one has ever looked at him like this before. The way Cas touches him, it’s like he’s the one who’s divine.

Cas presses him gently onto his back with a kiss, reverent, and his hand drifts down, over his stomach, his hips, finds his cock. He drags his fingers along the length of it, slow, playful, and Dean whines into the kiss, pleading. Suddenly his dick is slick, wet, and he moans, twisting in Cas’s hand.

“How—” he gasps, and Cas’s voice is just a breath in his ear.

“I’m an angel, Dean.”

When Cas pushes his legs open, and slips between them — when he trails kisses down Dean’s stomach, runs his tongue down the crease where his thigh meets his hip — when he kisses Dean so hard he draws blood, and then slips his fingers into Dean’s mouth — Dean’s gone. He can feel his own cock leaking against his stomach, so exposed and vulnerable and untouched. He needs this, needs Cas to touch him, hold him, want him. He swears out loud when Cas’s spit slick fingers slide between his asscheeks, tease at his hole. He pushes into his touch, craving more, needing to feel—

And then Cas’s tongue grazes his cock, his thigh, his asshole, and he’s trembling, bucking on the bed beneath him; his hands find Cas’s shoulders and he grabs him, pleading, as Cas’s tongue, hot and wet and obscene, teases at his fluttering hole. Cas’s gaze flicks up to meet his, eyes glittering, lips bruised, the column of his throat stark in the half light, and Dean is suddenly hit by the fact that this is an angel, this is not a man, this is an angel, a soldier of god, a force of nature, divine and unknowable and sacred. Cas slips up over him and presses a kiss against his open mouth, presses his palm against his aching dick, and slowly, agonisingly, pushes his cock inside him.

Dean’s lost. His throat is tipped back to the stars, stars obscured by a plywood and mortar and brick. He rocks onto Cas’s cock, and Cas whispers in his ear; soft, calm, quiet, tender. He moves slowly, gently, like Dean is fragile, sacred. Like he matters. He presses kisses to his lips, his throat, his shoulders as he pushes deeper in, as Dean gasps and presses up to meet him, wanting, always wanting. His hand grips Dean’s cock, thumb flicking lazily over the head, smearing pre-come and Dean could swear he’s enjoying this, toying with him, making him wait. He whimpers beneath him, tries to arch his hips in time with Cas’s lazy, teasing thrusts.

Cas lowers his mouth to Dean’s ear, whispers, his voice rough.

“Wait.”

Dean can’t wait, can’t think about anything but the ache between his thighs, the gentle fingers teasing him, the fact Cas pushed in even further as he whispered wait, bottomed out, flush against Dean’s prostate and just holding him there, not moving. He shakes his head, protests, tries to grind into Cas’s palm, but Cas tuts, sighs, brushes his thumb across his lips.

“I told you to wait.”

“Please, Cas— I can’t wait, I— please—”

Cas’s eyes are bright, searching.

“What do you want?”

“You know, Cas— you—”

“I want you to say it.”

“Please— Cas, please—”

Cas’s gaze flicks down, over his throat, the expanse of his chest, his leaking cock. He shifts, and Dean moans beneath him. His hand comes to meet Dean’s jaw, dragging the pad of his thumb down over his lower lip, gazing as if he’s curious, thoughtful.

“I want you to say it.”

His voice is low and rough and it sends a shiver down Dean’s spine. He’s a mess; he needs this, like he doesn’t remember needing before; and the fact Cas wants him to say it is somehow even better, even more—

“I want you to fuck me. Please. Please.”

Cas doesn’t move, still watching him, as if lost in thought. He twitches his hand a little around Dean’s cock, rubs his thumb over his aching head, and something in Dean snaps, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them—

“I need you to fuck me, Cas, I need it, I’m begging you, I need it, I need you, I need you here, please, god, please, Cas, please, please, just fuck me, touch me, make me yours, I can’t—”

And then his words are cut off by Cas’s kiss, hard, rough, dominant; one hand on Dean’s throat, the other like a vice around his leaking cock, and he’s fucking him so hard Dean cries out, sound lost on Cas’s lips. Dean wraps his legs around him, pulls him closer, closer, closer, and Cas’s hand finds his shoulder, palm like fire against Dean’s brand. Dean’s hips stutter and he gasps, his cum hot and wet against his ribs. Cas’s mouth is at his throat, his lips, and then he pulls Dean toward him, Dean’s forehead pressed against him as he comes, head tipped back and moaning, eyes lidded, lips parted, dishevelled and messy and divine and his.

***

He falls asleep in his arms.

There is a split in his lip; Cas brushes it softly with his finger. His healing touch is light, deft.

He moves very little; he doesn’t want to wake Dean.

Sleep. It looks peaceful. The warring emotions that usually colour Dean’s brow have all but faded. For a brief moment, Cas considers closing his eyes; perhaps there is bliss in the wilful dulling of the senses.

But that would mean taking his eyes off Dean.

Anger — unfamiliar, strange — courses through him; he had failed last night. Failed to protect the man who sleeps, now, mercifully whole, in his arms.

He would not make the same mistake again.

Dean turns in his sleep, turns toward him, nestles into Cas’s chest. His eyelashes flutter against him, his breath warm on Cas’s skin.

Cas feels — peaceful. Anger, guilt, joy; the messy milieu of human emotion is startling and strange. But this is different.

He knows this. The ache in his chest, the fire that burns. Faith. It is, perhaps, the only thing he has ever truly known. And for millennia, he had never questioned where to place it.

Dean murmurs in his sleep, and Cas traces his fingers over his chest, sweet and gentle and slow. By morning, there are a hundred Enochian love letters patterned, invisible, onto Dean’s ribs.

The stars fade, and the sun rises, and Cas watches over Dean.

This is faith.

[dickspeightjrs]

Money and Misunderstandings (au / 4k words / lawyer!cas / kindergarten teacher!dean)

Prompt 10 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @destielfactory

ao3 link

Dean pulled at his tie again. He could swear they were designed originally as a way to torture people to death.

Sam turned to see his brother fiddling with the knot. “Dude, stop it. The party has barely started, you can’t take your tie off yet.” He slapped Dean’s hand away. 

Dean grumbled. “Fine. I’ll keep it on. But I ain’t gonna act like I’m happy about it.” 

Sam just rolled his eyes in response.

It was looks like the bitch-face Sam was giving him that made Dean almost regret being proud as hell of his kid brother. 

Sam had just graduated from law school and managed to get an internship at the extremely prestigious Novak & Sons. Dean knew that the company must be a big deal because it had recently been splashed across the news. 

Apparently, the super old guy who owned the law firm had bitten the dust and left the whole thing to one of his sons. Dean couldn’t see the big deal about it all but Sam had been glued to the news the week that it all went down. 

Regardless, Sam was now an intern (though an unpaid one so Dean still helped him out with rent and bills), which meant he got invited to swanky parties thrown by the firm any time they sealed a major deal with another supposedly big deal client. 

Sam might be able to fit in with these snooty bastards, but Dean couldn’t. This wasn’t even a damn party. Just a bunch of rich people standing around chortling at each other and having conversations about the newest yacht they’d bought. 

Dean was interrupted in his grumblings by a guy walking up to him and Sam. 

“Winchester, isn’t it?” The guy asked Sam, obnoxiously. 

Dean bristled. This guy didn’t even know Sam’s name. Douchebag. 

“Yes, sir, it’s Sam.” Sam stuck out his hand for the man to shake. The man accepted, giving it a sharp shake. 

Then he turned his hard gaze to Dean. 

“And who is this?” The man said with a subtle sneer. 

“Oh, this is my brother, Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my boss, Michael Novak.” Sam introduced them. 

Ah! The ultimate douchebag. 

Neither man offered a hand to shake. They’d sussed each other already. 

“And what is it you do Dean?” Because you certainly don’t belong here. 

“I’m a kindergarten teacher.” Dean said, proudly 

Michael’s face soured further (if that was even possible). 

“Don’t they say that teaching kindergarten is like glorified babysitting?” Michael chortled. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. This guy was already skating on thin fucking ice. And that ice just cracked. 

“Listen here, asshole.” Dean pointed a finger at the suited bastard. He could see Sam cringe and look at the floor next to him. But nothing would stop him now. “My kids are awesome. I’m teaching them to be even more awesome adults when they’re older. I just hope none of them turn into jumped up douchebags like you.”

“Dean!” Sam despaired. 

“Sorry, Sam.” Dean mumbled. But he wasn’t sorry. Not really. He was only sorry that he’d embarrassed his brother. He would never apologise for defending his choice of career. 

Dean chanced a glance at Michael. If the dude was a cartoon, he’d probably have steam coming out of his ears right about now. 

“I’m going to the bar.” Dean murmured, leaving Sam to apologise on his brother’s behalf. 

Dean hoped there wouldn’t be consequences for Sam after his outburst. He just hated it when people looked down on other people for their jobs. Basic respect for others was something he prioritises with his kindergarteners. It was a shame that some adults couldn’t seem to grasp the concept. 

He walked through the crowd of guests like a storm cloud towards the bar. 

Luckily, it seemed most of the attendees were relying on the waiters for their drink orders meaning the bar was empty save for the bartender. Dean slumped onto one of the stools. 

“What’re you after, Brother?” The guy asked as he made his way over to Dean. 

“Whatever isn’t that fancy shit everyone else sees to be having.” 

The bartender, Benny his name tag read, laughed a deep, rich laugh. “I feel that. How’s a good, smooth whiskey sound?”

“Finally, someone talking my language.” Dean smiled. 

Benny passed him over a tumbler of gorgeous brown liquid. 

Dean lifted it in silent cheers and downed it in one go, sucking his lips at the sharp burn it sent down his throat. “Another one where that came from, dude.” Dean slid the glass across the bar top back towards Benny. 

“You sure, Brother?” Benny questioned. 

“Sure as shit. I gotta get through this night somehow.” Dean mumbled. 

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” A voice that wasn’t Benny’s (or Sam’s for that matter) appeared from Dean’s right. 

Dean turned his head to find a dude around his age looking back at him with distinctive blue eyes. 

The guy had on a suit and tie much like that other people in the room. But, the tie was loosened and curled backwards towards the end. His top button was undone and his trenchcoat that blanketed the whole outfit seemed as though it was barely hanging on to his shoulders. 

How come this guy could come dressed like that but Dean couldn't loosen the tie that had been strangling him for two hours already. (The dude looked like he’d just had seven minutes in heaven with someone in the cleaning cupboard for god’s sake!)

Dean was snapped out of his judgement of the guy in front of him by Benny placing a fresh glass of whiskey on the counter. The bartenders gave him a wink and looked slyly over to the trenchcoat guy still standing, leaning against the bar. 

What was Benny trying to say? 

Dean didn’t have long to think it over as the bartender moved away to collect dirty glasses at the other end of the bar, leaving Dean and the trenchcoat guy alone. 

“So,” Trenchcoat Guy continued, perching himself on the seat next to Dean, “what are you doing here if this evening is so torturous to you?” The words were said, not with bitter condescension like Michael might have asked, but, it seemed, with genuine interest. 

Alright, Dean could play ball. Plus, this guy was hot. Dean would be thinking of a flirtatious answer if he wasn’t conscious of embarrassing Sam again by hitting on someone who is probably one of his co-workers.

“I’m here with my brother, Sam.” Dean explained. “He’s just started as an intern here. Wouldn’t kill the bastards to pay him though, he works harder than any kid I know.” 

Dean winced. He has gotta stop insulting the people Sam works with or for. 

“And I take it, this isn’t your usual environment to socialise in?” Trenchcoat Guy enquired. 

Dean huffed a laugh. “You could say that. Turns out I don’t so much enjoy being looked down on for my job, no matter how much I might love my brother.” 

Trenchcoat Guy frowned. “What happened?”

“Some dude called Michael made a dick comment about me being a kindergarten teacher. Told him exactly what I thought about his opinion and embarrassed my brother in the process. So I sought refuge at the bar.” 

Blue eyes darkened. “That’s appalling! I’m sorry that happened.” Trenchcoat Guy placed an earnest but comforting hand on Dean’s. “Being a teacher is incredibly admirable. You’re helping to shape and guide future members of society.” He assured. “There’s nothing more noble than that. Definitely not a lawyer who seems to see the money before the client.” 

Where had this guy come from? He seemed a little weird and dorky but also genuine and caring. 

Dean shrugged off the compliment. Just because he wasn’t okay with people disrespecting his job, didn’t mean he was comfortable being showered with praise and kind words. 

Instead, Dean flagged down Benny and asked for a beer, looking to Trenchcoat Guy to silently ask if he’d like one too. Trenchcoat Guy nodded. 

The two men kept eye contact as they took the first sips of their beers. Dean’s eyes fell to the way the guy’s lips shaped around the lip of the bottle. He flicked his eyes up again to find the guy had seen the movement. He knew exactly what he was doing to Dean, if the way he slowly licked lingering droplets of beer from his bottom lip was anything to go by. 

Any other day, any other time and Dean would have jumped at the chance to, well, jump this guy. But, he wouldn't do that to Sam. 

Instead, he cursed the fates for sending him this awesome guy at exactly the wrong time. Taking another sip of his beer, he moved to get up from his seat. He’d better go find Sam and check he hadn’t ruined his brother’s position in the company. 

He was about to open his mouth to bid the beautiful stranger goodbye when the guy’s eyes left Dean’s and locked onto something over Dean’s shoulder. The blood seemed to drain from his face. Frantic blue eyes snapped back to Dean’s.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused at the turn this had taken. He could feel his resolve slipping. Sam’s reputation be damned. 

The guy didn’t answer. 

Suddenly, his hand was on Dean’s cheek and he was placing a deep kiss on Dean’s lips. 

Dean had no idea what was going on but his night had improved dramatically in the last three seconds so he definitely wasn’t going to complain. He placed a hand on the guy’s waist, pulling him in closer to his own body. 

After a few heated moments, the guy pulled away. Though Dean kept the hand on his waist so he couldn’t move far. He wasn’t letting him go any time soon, that was for sure. 

“I’m sorry.” Trenchcoat Guy panted, chest rising to gulp down air that he’d been deprived of. “My assbutt of an ex was coming towards us.” He tried to step back out of Dean’s embrace. 

But Dean held his grip firm. 

“No need to apologise, dude.” Dean assured. 

Looking into the guy’s eyes, feeling his moving chest against his own, Dean could feel his will power slipping. 

Screw it. 

Dean pressed his forehead against the other man’s. “Stop me if you don’t want this.” He whispered before he placed his lips over the other man’s.

The kiss was deepened instantly. By who Dean wasn’t sure but at this point, he really didn’t care. 

Dean allowed himself to be manhandled against the bar, never breaking the passionate connection he had with this wonderful stranger. 

As if the guy could read his mind he softened the kiss to whisper briefly against Dean’s lips. “I’m Castiel, by the way.”

Dean’s brain was so preoccupied that he could barely stutter out his own name in return. 

“Hmm.” Castiel hummed against Dean’s lips. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, Dean. But I’d very much like it if you took me home. Right now.” 

They broke apart and Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes. The calm blue from before had been replaced with seductive black. 

Yep. This was definitely happening. 

“Let’s go.” Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand to drag him towards the exit. 

But Castiel stopped him. 

“What about your brother?”

Shit. Trust his downstairs brain to throw logic out the window and forget about his brother. 

But he dreaded seeing the look of disappointment on Sam’s face when he told him where he was going. And who with. 

“Don’t worry, Brother.” Benny’s voice spoke up from the bar. “I’ll find him and let know you’ve gone home.” 

Dean shot Benny a grateful look. “Thanks, man.” He tried not to weirded out that Benny had seen what had just gone down. 

He once again grabbed Castiel’s hand and tugged him towards the nearest exit. 

Once outside, Dean hailed a taxi. He would have loved to have shown Castiel his beautiful 67 Impala but he’d had a couple of drinks and there was no way he was going to risk driving home. Plus, even without the drinks, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself long enough to get back to his. 

As soon as they made it through Dean’s front door, he sobered slightly. As respectful and understanding as Castiel had been earlier, he was clearly used to the finer things in life if he was at the firm party. Dean and Sam’s apartment was a far cry from that. 

“It’s not much…” Dean explained. 

Castiel turned from where he’d been doing a quick scan of the main room to lock eyes with Dean. “The only thing I’m concerned with right now is where your bed is.”

Dean could only point towards the corridor leading to his room. 

Castiel gave Dean a dark look and pulled him along by his tie. Maybe ties weren’t so bad after all. 

*  *  *

The next morning, Dean awoke to the feel of bare skin against his own. 

The body on top of his shifted and he could feel a rumble travel up through it. 

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel hummed. 

“Mornin’, Sunshine.” Dean sighed, nuzzling into Castiel’s dark hair and placing a kiss against his temple. 

Dean was about to suggest breakfast when he sensed the stomping moose steps of Sam coming down the corridor outside his room. 

“I don’t care if you’re hungover, I’m shouting at-” Sam stormed into the room. But he was cut off by the sight in front of him.

Dean cringed. Benny obviously hadn’t told Sam everything when they’d left last night. 

“Oh my god! Mr Novak!” Sam snapped himself back to reality. 

Dean turned to look at Castiel. Mr Novak? Was Castiel one of the stuck up sons of bitches sitting on a heck ton of money and not giving any of it to hard working interns like Sam? 

“Hello, Samuel.” Castiel greeted, lifting himself to sit against the headboard. “You can call me Castiel. I feel as though we’ve moved past the normal professional relationship now.” 

“Okay, Castiel.” Sam was clearly still in shock. “I’m just going to leave now.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and then ducked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. 

Dean turned again to Castiel. “Okay, what just happened?” He asked, completely confused as hell. 

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s. “I’ll explain everything but I think you need to go and make sure your brother is okay.” 

Dean was unsure. He didn’t want to just leave Castiel in his bed alone. 

“Go, Dean. I’ll wait here for you.” Castiel said, sensing Dean’s apprehension. 

“Okay.” Dean submitted, quickly pecking Castiel on the lips before getting up from the bed, throwing on some boxers and leaving the room. 

It wasn't until he was closing the bedroom door behind him that Dean realised he’d just kissed Castiel goodbye like they were boyfriends or something. 

Way to go, Dean. Scare the dude off before anything had properly started. 

Anyway, one problem at a time, he thought as he rounded the corner to find Sam pacing the length of the living room. 

“So…” Dean began, awkwardly. 

“I can’t believe you, Dean.” Sam said, angrily. “Did you not think of my career at all? Of all the people to go home with at that party, you went home with my boss?” 

Hang on..

“Boss?” Dean asked, “I thought that Michael dude was your boss?!” Dean said, confused as hell. 

Sam ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner. “I’m an intern, Dean. Practically everyone in the damn company is my boss. And Castiel? He’s the boss.”

Dean paled. “What?”

Sam sighed. “He runs the whole damn thing! Didn’t you see the news a couple months ago? His dad died and left the whole firm solely to Castiel. It created a big stink because his brothers, including Michael Novak, didn’t get a look in. They’ve been contesting the will for months now.”

Dean slumped onto the couch. He couldn’t believe it. Castiel had lied to him? Well, maybe not lied, just didn’t tell the whole truth. 

Sam saw Dean's mood suddenly turn and frowned. “You really didn’t know?” 

Dean silently shook his head. 

“I’m sure he has his reasons for not saying anything.” Sam tried to reassure his brother. 

Dean waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.” He said. “Yeah, I really like the guy, but once he realises who he shacked up with, he’s not gonna hang around.” He shrugged, accepting the situation for what it was. 

There was no way someone like Castiel, with that amount of wealth and riches, would be interested when he understood that Dean was a grown man who still lived with his little because they couldn’t afford much else right now. 

“Why don’t you let him decide that for himself?” Sam asked, pulling Dean from his negative thoughts. “All I know is, I’ve only met Castiel a handful of times but he’s only one of the Novak brothers that has ever tried to even learn my name.” 

Dean was torn. This was such a big thing for Castiel to neglect to mention. 

“Man, I don’t know. This only started because he was hiding from an ex at the party.” Dean explained. “And now I say it out loud, it sounds like a lie. God, I’m so stupid.” He dropped his head into his hands. 

“Damnit, Dean!” Don’t you ever watch anything on TV other than Doctor Sexy?” 

Huh? Dean shot his brother a confused squint. 

Sam shook his head in exasperation. “Even before their dad dying and the inheritance fiasco, the Novak brothers have always been sort of minor celebrities - comes with the money I guess.” Sam explained. “All I know is that he did have what the media called a ‘messy break up’ with a guy who worked for the company. And he was definitely at the party last night.” 

Dean sighed. He didn’t know what to think. 

“Look, Dean. You clearly like this guy already. He’s literally in your room waiting for you. Go talk to him.” 

Dean nodded and stood up, taking a determined breath. 

Sam gave him a supportive pat on the back. 

Just before he left the room, Dean turned back to his brother. “Are we good?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, man, we’re good.”

Dean nodded and left. 

When he re-entered his room, Castiel was still sitting in Dean’s bed, picking at a thread in the covers. He looked up at the sound of the door clicking shut. 

“How did it go?” Castiel asked, patting the space next to himself, silently asking Dean to join him again. 

Dean sat on the bed, but he didn’t get back under the covers next to Castiel. He still wasn’t sure what to do. “It’s okay. We smoothed everything out.” Dean nodded. “Found out some stuff about you though.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the boss? My brother’s boss?!” Dean asked, pleading for an explanation. 

“I wanted to come up to you. I’d already seen you from across the room earlier and when I finally gathered the courage to come up to you, you were complaining about my party and clearly had no idea who I was.” Castiel explained. 

Dean flushed. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Dean.” Castiel reached over to take Dean’s hand in both of his. “It was refreshing. With everything that has been going on recently, it was nice to have a break from that. And then my ex-boyfriend was coming towards us. And, well, you know the rest…” Castiel trailed off. 

“The douchebag who everyone seems to know about except me.” Dean added. “He sounds like a son of a bitch.” 

Castiel hummed in agreement. “That’s an understatement.” He muttered. “I found out Bart was sleeping with someone else a few months ago and I ended it immediately.” Castiel paused at Dean’s whispered ‘bastard’. “However, when my father died, he tried crawling back. He was probably after my new wealth and position in the company. I, of course, rejected him. But, Bart is the kind of person who doesn’t take no for an answer.” 

Dean scowled. He may have only just found out the diner details, but he wouldn’t hesitate to punch that dick in the face if he ever saw him. 

Taking in Castiel’s downtrodden look, Dean sighed. “I understand all of that Cas. But you heard me last night. You run the show and you seem like a decent guy but how can you have hard working interns like Sam and not pay them a cent? While you sit on a literal throne of money?” 

Dean looked down at his lap. He wasn’t sure he was going to like whatever Castiel had to say. 

“Dean,” Castiel lifted Dean’s chin to make the man look at him, “I completely agree with everything you said. That’s one of the reasons my father left everything to me.” Castiel explained. “He knew I had new ideas for the company. He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to hand it over to his sons. So he left it all to me on the sole condition that I go ahead with the changes that I wanted to implement.” 

Dean let out a breath and smiled. Okay, this sounded good. “What, uh, kinda stuff are you changing?” 

“Firstly, we’re going to be taking on a lot more pro bono cases. We are sitting on a throne of money, as you say,” Dean blushed, “and it’s time we actually did something good with it.” 

Dean nodded. Now Castiel mentioned it, he remembered Sam saying something about that when he’d first joined Novak & Sons.

“And,” Castiel continued, “though it hasn’t been announced to the public or even the employees themselves, interns will be getting a competitive rate of pay. You’re right. They do work hard for us and they deserve to be properly credited for it.” 

Dean certainly hadn’t expected that. He’d expected Cas to say that it was out of his hands, or just simply that’s how things worked there. 

“Now, can you please say something? I’m worried I’ve ruined this before it could even begin.” Castiel asked, shyly.

Dean smiled softly. “As long as you don’t mind slumming it with someone like me, I only have one more question.” Castiel nodded. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Dean would give anything to never see that smile leave Cas’ face. 

Instead of answering, Castiel pulled Dean towards him by the shoulder. The smile didn’t leave his face as Dean pressed a long, sweet kiss to his lips. 

“I hope you’re ready,” Castiel said later after they’d parted for breath, “making out with the boss last night would have made quite a spectacle.” 

Dean made a noise of indifference just as Sam shouted from the living room. “Woah, dude! You’re on the news making out with Castiel!” 

“Told you.” Castiel said, triumphantly. 

Dean just laughed and pulled Castiel back in for another deep kiss. 

*  *  * 

They still had a few issues to iron out before they embarked on a relationship, but in the end those issues seemed like small bumps in the road and it was a smooth ride after that. 

Despite his brother’s relationship with the boss, Sam was treated no differently to anyone else. It was important to Castiel to make it clear that any achievements Sam had were entirely down to Sam himself and he had not been handed anything under family privileges. 

And Sam’s hard work paid off. Within a few years, Novak & Sons had another major overhaul and became Winchester & Novak. (Castiel’s brothers had had something to say about, but as he’d been doing for years until that point, he just ignored them.)

Though, it was only a few months after the changes that Dean asked Castiel how pissed off his brothers would be if it was changed again to Winchester & Winchester. Castiel had just laughed and let Dean place the ring on his finger. 

(Turns out, his brothers were extremely pissed off. Oh well.) 

-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Daria! It ended up being longer than I expected but I’m quite happy with how it turned out.

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

-

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(let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list, we don’t have to be mutuals!)

[manawhaat]

Rock & A Hard Place (pt.6)

Title:  Rock & A Hard Place (pt.6)

Characters: Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader x Norman Reedus

Summary: It takes a lot to open up to the men in your life, but entrusting them with your virginity is a step that takes your relationship to the next level.  

Series Warnings: Virgin!Reader, polyamorous relationship, slight angst, anxiety, loss of virginity, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, fluff.

Word Count: 485

A/N: Ha, second week in a row I fucked up and forgot to post on Monday. Sorry guys, I’ll set alarms from now on lol. Drabble series based on the reader losing her virginity to her boyfriends, JDM and Norman Reedus. This is not only the guys x reader but it’s also JDM x Normy, too.(Nicknames for the guys include: Jeff, Jeffy, Jeffrey, Norman, Normy, Bubba.) Betad by the ever amazing @kittenofdoomage​​​​ and @samsexualdeancurious​​​​ ❤️❤️

Series Masterlist

Letting his body lurch forward, his hands caught his weight, rooted on either side of your head as he dropped his lips to press against yours. Your tongue swiped against his while you pumped him, his hips dipping down to let his cock rest against your sex. 

The contact was unexpected, setting your heart racing at the all-too-realness of the situation. Before you could get a hold of yourself, tears threatened to spill from your eyes, your chest heaving and hand stopping its prior motions. 

“Hey, hey,” Jeff cooed, “Y/n? Baby, we don’t have to do any of this if you’re not ready. I promise you, you’re worth the wait and the last fuckin’ thing I wanna do is pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.” 

Hand tucking your hair behind your ear, your glassy eyes met his. “Jeff, I’ll never be ready.” 

You gritted out your words, forcing a deep breath into your lungs before continuing. “I- God, I love you so much-” you reached out to grip onto his shoulders and arms, near desperate- “love both of you, and it kills me to not be able to show you. Every minute of every day I have this...this thing stopping me, and it just holds me back from being as open with you guys as you are with me. It kills me to not be able to love you how I want to love you- how I need to...how I do.” 

Tears blurred your vision of Jeffrey, but you sucked in a breath and said, “There’s never gonna be a perfect time. I just- I just need to do it. I need to do this because I want to do this.”

Jeff stared you down for a long moment, eyes swimming with what you could only make out to be sympathy. “If this is what you need, sweetheart-”

“It is,” you half-whimpered, shaking in his arms as he leaned in to kiss you and calm you as much as he could. 

Reaching down, you pulled his hips closer, your fingers digging into his skin urging him to move. He nodded against your forehead and rocked his hips, slowly letting his length drag through your lips, the weight of his skin against yours making you wriggle in anticipation. 

Though you’d already cum on his fingers, Jeff shifted his weight off you for a moment to reach for the lube in the bedside dresser, the substance slicking his fingers when he rubbed them together and placed his hand between your legs to make sure you were prepped for him. 

Nudging your legs open a bit further, Jeffrey pulled your hips close to his, slotting his thighs beneath yours and stroking his length with the leftover lube before lining himself up at your entrance. 

Jeff claimed your trembling lips with his own before pulling back to look into your eyes. 

“Here we go.”

NEXT PART>>>

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[221castiel]

Switch It Up! - Day 16

Where I switch it up from Destiel, or Dean switches it up from girls. I don’t know if this counts for the prompt??? I’m so sorry if it doesn’t

“Good,” Dean herd Lee replied, as calm and laid back as usual. “Hunting’s been keepin’ me busy.”

“No plans of settling down then?” There was a pause where Dean knew Lee was shaking his head. “No girlfriend?” John asked

This time Dean looked over his shoulder, eyes immediately meeting Lee’s, who sat with John at the kitchen table, already looking Dean’s way. Across Lee’s face was that stupid grin, the one that sent Deans heart racing. That made his feet seem to melt in his shoes, and mind going numb. The smile that could leave even Dean speechless.

God Dean adored that smile.

Lee’s gaze slowly traveled down Dean’s body, without any attempt at hiding it. Down his chest, down his waist, down his legs, and back up. Dean stayed frozen the whole time, only turning away when their eyes met, a hot blush flaring his cheeks.

“No,” Lee finally replied. There was a pause, where Dean assumed his friend took a sip of beer. “Just doesn’t seem to be anyone interestin’ enough.”

Then another pause. Lee was still staring at him, Dean was sure of it, though he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He hoped Lee was still staring.

“It’s hard to meet another hunter,” Lee continued. “Especially one with good music taste.”

After that the conversation continued on, talking about various cases Lee had been on, and the hunters he’d worked with since they’d last seen him a few months earlier. Then the cases John had been working on. At one point John had tried to get Sam to join the conversation, though the youngest Winchester, who was reading on the couch, only gave a small grumble in reply.

It was more than Dean contributed; instead he himself stayed facing the counter, cutting the vegetables he’d soon throw into the stove alongside the chicken he’d already prepared. He stayed that way until John called his names.

Immediately Dean turned his gaze first landing on Lee, heart jumping in his throat, before he quickly looked to John.

Not in front of his dad.

They couldn’t be- whatever him and Lee were in front of his dad.

John, as Dean looked back didn’t say anything only raising his, what Dean assumed was now empty, bottle of beer.

Dean gave a small nod in understanding, turning to the fridge, and pulling the door open, though as his gaze darted across the shelves he couldn't find another bottle.

“we’re out.” Dean said as he turned back to his dad, John only looking back with a familiar look. A rough expression, that though not angered at the moment, was anything but welcoming.

“Then maybe you should go get some more.” John replied, steady, though harsh. The way he often spoke when he was angered, and Lee was around. When Lee was around he never yelled, he never shoved Dean around, or left bruises, as if he wanted to put on a show for Lee.

Pretend that they were a stable family.

Happy.

Dean didn’t complain, if anything it was a relief to have a break from the physical abuse.

Dean didn’t respond, only giving a small nod, before he walked across the room, to the armchair where his leather jacket had been thrown. He swore he could hear Sam mumble something along the lines of ‘Get your own alcohol,’ though he didn’t give his brother a glance, and instead pulled the jacket around his shoulder.

His hand slid to the pocket, checking for his wallet before he pulled their apartment door open. “I’ll be back in a few,” he called over his shoulder.

He pulled the door close, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began walking down their apartment buildings hall, towards the front door. The hallway was silent only filled by the footsteps of Dean’s boots, seeming to echo against the walls.

One step, two steps.

It wasn’t until the sound of a door opening disturbed the steady beat, then the sound footsteps behind him.

When they grew close, Dean tensed, one hand moving around his pocket knife, as he turned his head. Though the moment his gaze landed on Lee his grip loosened.

“Thought I’d walk with you,” Lee said as he walked up to Dean, the others face still resting in an easy.

“Missed me already?” Dean teased.

Lee shrugged as they began walking again, yeh other pushing the door open to allow Dean through first. Immediately the cold air was felt, burning against Dean’s as his gaze darted around the snow covered streets.

Above through the dark sky, small snowflakes could be seen. It could have almost been peaceful, though knowing what hid in the dark, it was hard to find peace.

Knowing what waited for him after Lee left made it even harder.

“Your dad and brother started goin’ at it, took that as my cue to leave.” Lee paused the silent streets filled only by the crunching of snow under their boots. “And maybe I missed ya a bit.”

Dean bit at his lip trying to stop the forming smile that rugged at his lips. “Your dads awesome and all,” Lee continued, “but I was hopin’ we’d get to hang out, without him or Sam.”

“How long are you stayin’?”

Sean looked over to Lee, who looked back with a smile. “How long do you want me to stay?” Lee asked, his usual tone replaced with something softer, just on the verge of teasing.

Dean immediately stopped, lips parted as he stared at Lee who had stopped as well.

Forever.

Despite the thought, Dean's mouth stayed shut, eyes locked on the other. He could feel the freezing wind against his cheeks, their breaths coming out in small clouds around them.

Forever.

Dean would stay with the other forever if he had the choice.

Feel the safety that always came with every touch, with every teasing nudge.

The bubble of emotion that would rise anytime Lee was around.

The way his heart raced as Lee would lean in closer, running his thumb along Dean’s cheek to wipe away the blood after a hunt. You gotta be more careful Lee would mumble, Dean almost melting on the spot.

Forever.

Yet Dena knew that was impossible, it wasn't an option no matter how much he wanted it.

Instead of replying, he turned, the snow under his boots crunching as he attempted to walk away. Though he could only make it a step before Lee had grabbed his wrist, tugging him back.

“Dude,” Lee laughed, Dean’s gaze meeting the other’s, Lee’s hand still around his wrist, sending electricity raising up his arm. “It’s not that hard of a question, Christmas is next week, do you want me there or not?”

For a moment Dean didn’t reply. He should have been freezing with the gusts of wind that tore against his leather jacket, swirls of snow falling around them, yet he wasn't. His whole body alive with warmth under Lee’s teasing gaze. Warmth from the other’s touch, from the thought of Lee there for Christmas dinner, and then Christmas morning.

Warm from the bubble that seemed to rise in his chest, growing with every passing second.

“You’re a jackass.” Dean finally spat, pulling his arm from the other’s grip.

Despite his words Lee’s smile didn’t falter. “What?”

“You know.” Lee only raised an eyebrow causing Dean’s jaw to clench.

“I really don’t.”

Dean crossed his arms across his chest grinding his teeth together. Lee had to know what he was doing, he had to know the effect he had on Dean, Dean wasn't exactly good at hiding it. “Yes you do,” Dean said back, tone slow and harsh. God he wanted to punch that smile off of Lee’s face. That fuckin’ smile. “Don’t be dumb.”

“Oh,” Lee hummened, he stepped closer, the little space between them closing, sending Dean’s heart racing. If it wasn’t for the shaking in his legs, threatening to crumble under his weight, he would have taken a step back. “You mean this?”

Lee brought a hand to Dean’s cheek, immediately causing his heart to leap.

Dean couldn’t breath, only able to feel Lee’s hand against his face, the other just as cold as himself. The hammering of his heart. The bubble bursting in his chest.

He couldn't move.

He didn’t think he wanted to move.

Lee’s eyes stayed locked on his own, holding something Dean couldn’t quite explain. Then all at once Lee was leaning for, and whatever space between them was closed as their lips connected.

Dean has been with girls before, he’d had their hands travel along his skin, their lips press to his own, their skin against his own. He’d been with girls, he knew girls. He knew the way they made him feel, steady, stable, in control, being with Lee was anything but that.

Being with Lee was a match against a haystack.

Free falling without a parachute.

Being with Lee was fire and electricity. It was out of control, yet fully in Dean’s grasp. It was that bubble bursting in his chest, filling him with an indescribable energy.

Their lips were apart just as fast as they were together, Dean having quickly pulled away, realizing what exactly he was doing. Kissing a boy. More specifically, kissing his best friend, Lee Webb.

For a moment neither of them spoke, nothing but the wind ringing through Dean’s head, breaking the almost haunting silence. Their eyes staying locked on each other, Lee’s face casted in shadows, from the moonlight above.

They kissed.

Dean kissed a boy.

Dean kissed Lee Webb.

“Was it really that bad,” Lee finally asked, that stupid smile spreading across his lips.

Without a second thought Dean stepped forward, closing whatever space had once been between their chests, and raised his hands to the other’s face. He could feel Lee’s hands move to his hips, smell the alcohol across Lee’s breath.

Dean let one last breath part his own lips before leaning in. Once again connecting their lips.

[har-rison-s]

children are the future

request: Can you do a stan it ch.2 imagine where you two have kids and he gets the phone call and the kids like ‘whats wrong’ and he looks at th kid and is like ‘gotta do it for them!!’ And doesn’t die and you guys go together or whatever

A/N: Yes, hello. Amazing, emotional request. Kids + Stanley,.... Oh boy. I'll try my best on this one, as I always do. Happy reading!

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

main masterlist

gif credit goes to owner!

Jay is laying in her father's lap, her head on his chest, watching the TV programme whilst her brother is reading a book that lay on his father's leg. It's an ordinary Sunday evening in the Uris household, all of them lounging on the couch while the TV plays and they're doing each their little thing. 

Y/N is sewing decorations on Robin's new pillow, by his request, deeply concentrating on pulling her needle and thread through a bead. Stanley cradles Jay as she watches the TV and he reads a book. Robin's just like his father - prefers a book over TV, but also being with his family over reading alone in his room.

Stanley's arm is around Jay, holding her, and also holding the book. His other hand holds Robin's and occasionally runs through the little boy's hair. Curly, just like his own is, but has a lighter color. Even lighter than Stanley's ocher hair was. Now it's darkened intensely, and so have his eyes.

A telephone ring startles the peaceful family, they jump in their seats lightly, all in the same manner. Y/N looks at Stanley, and so does Jay and Robin, while Stanley reached over his shoulder for his ringing cellphone. What a weird time for someone to be calling him. He hopes it's a simple question from one of his employeés and accepts the call. 

“Hello - Uris residence?” Stanley speaks. He puts his book down on his tummy and listens. 

“It's Mike. Mike Hanlon.”

“Who did you say?” Stanley asks, his brow now furrowed and eyes searching for answers. His tone and facial expression confuses his children. Jay watches her father very noticeably, while Robin only looks at him sideways, not wanting to be too obvious about it. Both his parents told him once it's not very polite to stare at others. “You... you! Well, I'll be damned,” Stan says with a chuckle and sees his wife shoots him a stern look about his use of words. The man nods and closes his eyes for a second, “Mike! How did y—”

He stops abruptly, and Jay hears that the person on the phone is speaking, telling her father something. Stanley doesn't say anything for a while, listening closely. “IT's come back, Stanley. Disappearances have started happening again, a girl, then a man, his body found—it's nasty business, but one thing is sure. IT is back.” Mike Hanlon tells him. 

“Are you sure, Mike?” Stanley tries to clarify.

“Yes, Stanley.” Mike confirms. “Remember you made a promise? We all did. That if IT comes back...”

“Then we come back, too.” Stanley finishes his friend's sentence, nodding. Stanley sighs and looks at Robin, immediately thinking of himself as a kid. He clings to his youngest child. 

Stanley thinks what would he do if Robin or Jay were in danger. He thinks how he'd feel if IT was after them, if he'd know about it. He wouldn't, if they were living in Derry, none of the adults there knew what was happening. God, he'd know nothing. And he couldn't help. 

“Of course I remember. I still have the picture.” Stanley tells Mike. “But are you sure—like, really sure?” He tries to clarify more. Mike chuckles into the phone, having expected something like this from his old friend.

“Yes, Stanley, I'm very sure.” Mike confirms it to him again. “You need to come home.” He tells him, and knows it's hard information to process and execute. “How soon can you?”

“Well, I would need to take care of a few things first, but um...” Stanley drifts off, thinking of the logistics of him going back to Derry, Maine. 

“Tomorrow.” Mike decides and Stanley takes a deep breath. He looks over at Jay, who's been looking at him as he talks. 

“What's wrong, Daddy?” Jay asks him, her head falling against his shoulder. She's noticed the nervous and fearful expression in her father's eyes, and her young mind grows nervous, too. Has something bad happened? 

Stanley only holds her hand and sighs. He savors this moment with his children in his reach and embrace, thinking what if this is the last time he can have this? Hold and feel his children together with him, lay with them on the couch, talk to them. 

He cannot risk IT taking over the rest of his life. Stanley's afraid, oh dear God, is he afraid. He's not sure he will be able to face IT and actually fight IT again. Even though it feels like he'll be doing it the first time. Why? He can't guess. The memories haven't even faded. 

Stanley would never wish that his children go through what he did when he was a kid. Not one piece of it. His childhood was very wide in range, jumping from worst to best in short periods of time. Stanley would never want his children to be as scared as he was, see the things he saw and live with those pictures in the back of their minds for the entirety of their lives. 

He needs to stop this while he can. So that no child ever has to go through what he and his friends did. So that no one dies this horrible death or loses their friends or family to a mystical, malicious being. And, over all, he's doing it for his own children. So that they would grow up without fear and without monsters under their bed.

“Okay.” Stanley tells Mike, nodding. “I'll be there tomorrow.” He tells Mike finally.

“Can't wait to see you, Stan the man.” Mike says as good-bye and hangs up the phone. Stanley sighs, closing his eyes, and puts his phone back in its place on the night stand behind him. 

“Who was that, Stan?” Y/N questions, having set closer to Stanley and their children. The TV's volume has been turned down. Y/N reaches her hand out to Stanley's and grips it tight, noticing that her husband looks a little lost. 

“An old friend. From Derry.” Stanley finally says, meeting Y/N's eyes. “There's bad things happening over there. I have to help him.” Stanley tells his family. Jay puts both her arms around her father's neck, trying to hug him, comfort him. 

Y/N nods, realising it's serious what Stanley is talking about. “Okay. You gotta be there tomorrow?” She asks and Stanley nods. He rests his head on Jay's and pulls Robin in his lap, too. Wanting to embrace his children as tight as he can. 

“I don't want you coming with me.” Stanley says, then, feeling himself close to tears. “It's dangerous, very dangerous.”

Y/N wants to ask questions, she's always wanted to ask questions about his strange nightmares, the strange muttering under his breath or strange things that he'd say out loud here and there. It's always confused her, but she's realised with time that it's something Stanley doesn't understand to the fullest and is still afraid of. So she doesn't ask why it's dangerous now. But she knows that he can't go alone.

“No, no.” She shakes her head. “I'm coming with you, if it's dangerous. And we can take our birdies to Grandma's.” Y/N caresses Jay's cheek, moving her hair out of her face. “You haven't been to Grandma's in a while.”

“I wanna go with Daddy.” Robin says and looks at his father. Stanley looks at his son and almost starts crying on the spot. Stanley shakes his head. Oh, the horrors that would occur if he brought his beautiful family to the horrid dump that is Derry. He can't allow it.

“You can't, little man.” Stanley tells his son. “It's too dangerous for children there.”

“Don't kids live there?” Jay asks. Oh, God, Stanley doesn't know what to tell her. He can't lie, but he can't tell her the scaring truth about why she or Robin shouldn't come with him.

“They do, but they're all in danger. And I can't risk putting you in danger.” Stanley says, tears now streaming down his face, while he tries to keep quiet. This is going to be hard. He wipes his tears and sighs deeply. “So, my little birdies, Mommy and me will take you to Grandma's and we will be back in a few days.” Stan tells his children finally, having decided their plan of action.

“Promise you'll be back soon, Daddy.” Robin pleads. 

“I promise, Rob.” Stanley lays a kiss on his son's forehead. He gives the same to his daughter and pulls his children even closer to himself. “You're going to be safe after this.”

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Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h @gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar

I sure hope you like this! 

[67-chevy-baby]

Take Away My Heartache

Pairing - Dean x Cas

Rating - 18+ Only!!

Squares Filled - Kink Bingo: Begging and Dean and Cas Bingo: Fight and Make-Up

Tags - SEASON 15 EPISODE 3 SPOILERS, Destiel, Arguments, Angst, Language, Drinking, M/M sex, Anal Fingering, Prostate stimulation, Anal Sex, Begging, Finger sucking, Unprotected sex, Implied self-blame, and I think that’s it. 

Word Count -  3,753

Beta - @winecatsandpizza​

Fic Aesthetic - Yours truly

The Song I Chose - Crazy Love by Van Morrison

Written for - @rockhoochie​’s 1k Followers Writing Challenge, @spnkinkbingo​, and @deanandcasbingo​

Yeah, and why does that something always seem to be you?

The sting of Dean’s words cut through Castiel’s heart like a knife as the sound of the Bunker door shutting behind him echoed in the distance. Truth be told, he’d give anything to run right back into his hunter’s arms and forget the argument ever happened. His hunter. Those two little words used to bring him nothing but joy-something an Angel of the Lord rarely felt. Now …  Now, it only brought tears to his eyes because clearly Dean wasn’t his. Not anymore. 

The dry leaves crunched beneath Cas’ shoes as he walked. The cool autumn air nipping at the skin exposed at his neck made him shiver. Not only were he and Dean over, but he’d lost Jack too. Never in his entire existence had he felt so alone. Jack, his son for all intents and purposes, was dead. Even though there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop it at the time, he still blamed himself. He’d made a promise to Kelly. He swore to her he’d keep her son safe and he couldn’t even do that. 

Hell, maybe Dean was right. Maybe he should have just stuck to the plan. They would have found a way to stop Belphegor. They’d saved the world before. This wasn’t their first go around. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and killed the lying sack of shit while he had the chance. He’d figured Dean would have been proud of him, cheered at his braveness. Not once did he think Dean would dismiss him like their ten-year-long relationship meant nothing. 

Cas found himself in an all too familiar place. The barn where it all began. The very place he first stood face to face with Dean. It still looked the same. The various black warding sigils and chipped white paint were still there and immediately brought back every memory he shared with the elder Winchester. Finally, he let himself feel the emotions he’d been holding back. A choked sob left his lips as he sank down onto the cold, hard ground. 

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The sound of glass shattering made Sam’s ears perk up. He hurried into the Library armed and ready only to find Dean hunched over the table. His hands splayed out on the dark wooden surface, the remnants of broken glass joined his beer in a wet puddle on the floor. Slowly, he lowered his gun and walked cautiously towards him. “Dean? Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Cas?” Dean didn’t look at him, his breathing heavy as his shoulders started to shake. Now, this was a sight. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother cry this hard. “Hey, whoa… Dean? C’mon man, talk to me.” 

Dean shook his head, his tears falling against the table’s veneer. “He’s gone, Sammy…” Sam didn’t miss how broken his brother sounded. He wasn’t naive to the fact that Cas was intimate with Dean. You’d have to be blind not to know how they felt for one another. Sighing, he set his gun on the table and moved so he could see his brother’s face. “Dean, you have to calm down. I’m sure he’s coming ba-” The sound of the chair being kicked over made Sam jump, his brother’s tear-filled eyes boring into his own. “WHAT DON’T YOU GET, SAM?! CAS. IS. GONE. NEVER COMING BACK! END OF STORY!” Dean’s chest heaved as he fished the keys to the Impala out of his pocket. It wasn’t until his footfalls echoed down the hallway that Sam reacted. His long legs walking quickly after him. “Dean! Wait, Dean, you can’t just leave while you’re upset like this!”

Dean didn’t react to his little brother’s plea, but that didn’t stop Sam from trying. He was hot on his heels as they crossed the threshold of the Bunker’s garage. The familiar creak of the Impala’s door broke the silence between them as Sam waited for a response. Dean fired up the engine and gripped the steering wheel, the tips of his knuckles turning white as he let out a long shaky sigh. “Don’t you get it, Sammy? I break everything I touch. I’m poison. Happiness wasn’t meant for me. This life ... there’s no chance at love when you’re a part of it. I push everyone away and I’ll be damned if I do something to ruin the last relationship I have. Let me go, Sammy … before I force you to leave me too.” 

Reluctantly Sam stepped back and watched Dean drive away. His brother’s words tearing at his heartstrings as the sleek black car disappeared out of sight. Part of what Dean said was true in a sense. Rarely did someone with their job description find happiness. He’d tried … time and time again he had tried. First with Jessica, the love of his life from his Stanford days. Then there was Amelia, the sweet veterinarian with a heart of gold. Eileen was another one that ultimately ended in tragedy. 

Of course, there were others that Sam had been romantically involved with, but more often than not his love interests shared something in common with one another. They weren’t hunters. They didn’t spend every day knowing what went bump in the night or lurked just beyond the shadows. That’s one thing that was different between him and Dean. Before they’d met Cas, his brother didn’t care much about settling down. One night stands were his specialty, something that Sam often envied. 

The moment Castiel made himself known to them, Dean’s whole demeanor changed. It was subtle at first. He started cutting back on the number of women he’d spend the night with. Then came the not so discreet glances. Cas was oblivious to them of course, but Sam wasn’t. He’d known his brother all his life so he was quite familiar with that look. Dean was attracted to the Angel. Once his stubborn brother got enough alcohol in his system he finally made his move. The rest was history. 

The silence in the garage became almost deafening as Sam’s thoughts continued to race through his head. They’d lost so much recently. Their Dad, their Mom, Jack, and Rowena. So many people they loved were gone. He’d be damned if Dean lost Cas too. 

He half jogged back into the library and picked up the broken pieces of his brother’s beer bottle. After cleaning up the wetness with a towel from the kitchen, he headed back to his room to get his phone. Hopefully, Cas still had the one they’d gave him. He held his breath as the shrill ringing filled his ears. “C’mon … C’mon” His persistent voice was the only sound in the room other than his boots pacing the floor. 

After the third ring, he finally heard the gruff sound of Cas’ voice. “H-Hello?” A wave of relief washed over Sam. “Cas? Hey, don’t hang up okay? Just… hear me out…” He waited, listening for any sort of acknowledgment from the Angel. When he didn’t get any, he took the opportunity and kept going. “First things first, where are you? Are you safe?” A cough and a low groan made his chest heavy with worry. “Cas?” 

“Sam, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m an Angel. I can take care of myself.” Sam frowned and stopped pacing, his hand finding purchase on his hip. “That’s not what I …” He sighed, not wanting to be the second person that argued with him today. “Look, Cas, I realize it’s not my place, but I know what you have with Dean is worth fighting for. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you. He’s just… he’s a little lost right now. In no way am I defending his actions because I don’t know what was said, but I will stand here and say that my brother loves you. He’s madly in love with you, Cas…” 

A shaky breath on the other end of the phone told Sam that he was still there. "I...I love him too, Sam. Like I've never loved anyone or anything before." Another ragged cough told Sam that Cas wasn’t being forthcoming with how bad his health really was and it worried him. Hell, shouldering pain and wounds was one of their specialties after all. “Cas, listen to me, okay? Everything that’s happened recently has taken its toll on all of us. I can’t speak for you or Dean, but having to … to” A shaky sigh left his lips as tears threatened to slip down his cheeks. Eventually, a few betrayed him and his vision became blurry as he forced the words out. “... kill Rowena wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.” He cleared the lump in his throat and swallowed thickly. “What I’m trying to say is we can get through this. We’ve saved the world so many times, and I’ll be damned if we let God’s little temper tantrum do us in.”

Cas wasn’t saying anything, but his occasional exhale told Sam he was still there. “Please, Cas. Just tell me where you are so I can come and get you.” Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity. Finally, relief washed over Sam when he heard the Angel respond. “The barn … I’m at the barn where it all began.” “I’ll be there as fast as I can, Cas! Just … stay there.” Sam hung up and began packing his duffel bag. 

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Dean welcomed the smooth burn of the whiskey in his glass as he knocked it back. Maybe if he drank enough he’d be able to forget those sad blue eyes and how he was the cause of said emotion. The bartender eyed him curiously but filled his glass again nevertheless. “Relationship problems?” Dean downed the golden brown liquid in two gulps before sliding the cup back. “With all due respect, it’s really none of your business. Now, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to drink until I’m numb. In fact, just go ahead and leave the bottle.” After tossing a few twenties and sporting a stern look, the man seemed to get the message. Even if Dean didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, it was better than sharing them with some stranger just to be judged. He took another sip and groaned happily. Yep, being alone was much better. 

The vibration of his phone startled him out of his thoughts once again. “Now, what?” He grumbled. Seeing his brother’s name lit up on the screen made him roll his eyes, but he swiped to answer anyway. “Dammit, Sammy. I’ve been gone for a few hours what could you possibly…” He was cut off by the frantic edge in Sam’s voice. “Dean! It’s… It’s Cas… he… he told me he was at the barn where you met. I went to get him a-and now he… he won’t wake up.” 

Dean felt his blood run cold. 

He pushed the stool away from the counter and all but ran back to the Impala. “What do you mean he won’t wake up?!” Baby’s tires spun as Dean pulled back onto the main road toward the Bunker. “I-I-I don’t know, Dean… He’s breathing, but he seems to be in some sort of celestial coma? When I talked to him on the phone, he kept coughing and wheezing. I don’t know what to do. Normally, I’d call Rowena, but… she’s…” Dean cut his brother off before he could finish, his knuckles white on the steering wheel for the second time that day. “Sammy, listen to me. Just get back to the Bunker as fast as you can. I’ll meet you there, and we will figure this out … the Winchester way.” He ended the call and tossed his phone on the seat next to him, his boot pushing the gas pedal all the way to the floor. 

The moment Sam arrived with Cas, Dean was there to help. They carried him to the hospital wing in the Bunker and carefully laid him on the cot. Dean couldn’t help but notice how sickly his angel looked. He’d lost weight, his skin was pale and hot to the touch, and his lips were chapped more than they normally were. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he looked at his brother with defeat. “Sammy… I.. I can’t lose him. I was so stupid… so fucking stupid…” His shoulders shook violently the moment he let his emotions take over. 

Sam was determined to make things better again. Not just for his brother, but for the sole fact that he refused to let anyone else they cared for die. “Keep an eye on him, Dean. I’ll hit the books and make some phone calls. You should stay here just in case he wakes up.” All Dean could do was nod and watch as Sam walked away. He turned his gaze back to Cas, his fingertips reaching up to gently caress his cheek. He was afraid to do much else. 

Eventually, Dean’s eyes grew heavy as the adrenaline wore off from earlier. Leaving Cas was out of the question, so he did the only thing he could think of and gently curled up on the mattress beside him. He slung his arm protectively over the angel’s torso and carefully laid his head against his chest. He couldn’t help the memories of their first night together flooding his mind. How they listened to music in Baby and drove out in the country to look at the stars. A tear slid down his cheek as he began to softly sing their song, the one that Cas insisted they listen to on repeat the whole trip home. 

I can hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles

And the heaven's open every time she smiles

And when I come to her that's where I belong

Yet I'm running to her like a river's song

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down

Yeah when I come to her when the sun goes down

Take away my trouble, take away my grief

Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

Yes I need her in the daytime 

Yes I need her in the night 

Yes I want to throw my arms around her

Kiss and hug her, kiss and hug her tight

Yeah when I'm returning from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day

Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole

Yes it makes me mellow down into my soul

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love

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The last thing Castiel remembered was seeing Sam’s concerned face. Then there was only darkness. He wasn’t dead, no, this was something different. A coma maybe? He couldn’t open his eyes or move, but he was able to hear everything going on around him. Angels normally don’t go through things like this, but if their bodies get too worn down then they go into somewhat of a protective mode. He figured this is what happened to him when he used the last of his strength to teleport himself to the barn. His celestial powers needed to replenish. 

He hated hearing how worried Sam and Dean were. He especially hated how much Dean blamed himself. He’d spent so much time showing his boyfriend how much good he brought to the world, and now he felt like Dean was closing himself off again. He’d only wanted to take some of the stress from Dean. That’s why he chose to kill Belphegor instead of letting him do more damage. Cas knew Dean didn’t mean to hurt him and he longed to tell him how sorry he was. 

It became a waiting game, letting his vessel reenergize itself. There was no telling how long it would take, but Castiel took comfort in knowing that the man he loved was snuggled into his side. If only he could have comforted Dean and wiped his tears. The sound of the elder Winchester’s voice filled the small room, and it was then that he realized Dean was singing to him. Cas’ heart both soared and broke at the same time by the emotion in his voice as the lyrics flowed freely from memory. The last thing he heard before Dean fell asleep was him saying how sorry he was and how much he loved him. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean groaned and tightened his grip around Castiel. What time was it? Had Sam found anything? Several questions ran through his mind as he prepared to open his eyes. Before he could, he felt a hand smooth down his back. His heart skipped a beat as he sat up. Beautiful blue eyes gazed into his own, and Dean looked at him like it was the first time he saw him all over again. “Cas?! Cas! Oh, I’m so happy you’re okay. I’m sorry for the things I said to you before. I was so stupid and I know you were just trying t-” His rambling was cut off as Cas smashed his lips against his. Their tongues danced together and when Cas finally pulled away he was panting as hard as Dean was. 

“Dean, you have nothing to be sorry for. I forgave you the moment it happened, and there’s nothing you could do to make me love you any less. You will always be perfect in my eyes. Forever the Righteous Man I saved and rebuilt all those years ago. I love you.” Dean placed another emotional kiss to Cas’ lips, pouring all his love and need into it. Never in his life did he think he’d be able to settle down with anyone. Being a hunter of the supernatural meant a short life span more often than not. He was conditioned to not get too attached to anyone, but with Cas, he couldn’t help himself. This was different. Cas was different, and without the Angel, in his life, he’d be incomplete. 

The need to feel Castiel’s touch nearly took his breath away. No words were spoken as they rid each other of their clothes. Cas flipped them over so he was hovering above Dean, his blue eyes glowing with power. Dean felt his cock swell in anticipation, his breathing becoming more ragged by the second. “Cas, please…” 

Castiel began to trail kisses along his jaw, nipping at the skin now and again. The moment he began sucking at Dean’s pulse point he could feel just how much he needed him. His cock was pinned between Cas’, the tip weeping beads of precum. “Look at you, Dean. You’re a fucked out mess and I’ve barely touched you.” Dean whined shamelessly at his words, his hand reaching between their bodies to slowly stroke Cas’ length. “Mmmm, Dean… Gonna make you feel so good.” Cas brought two of his fingers up to Dean’s lips, pushing them into his mouth. “Suck.” 

Dean obliged, swirling his tongue skillfully around his digits. Cas nearly came at the sight below him. The way the elder Winchester fluttered his eyes shut the moment his perfect lips closed around them, his soft moans as his slick tongue flicked over his fingertips, and the constellation of freckles littered over his skin. Reluctantly, Cas pulled them free and pressed one against Dean’s entrance. “Relax for me.” It wasn’t a command, but Dean knew it would do him well to obey. The first few moments were always painful, but the pleasure Cas promised was better than anything he’d ever felt. 

“C-Cas… I… I need you. Please… don’t make me wait… F-Fuck!” Cas knew he’d found Dean’s prostate just from the sound of Dean’s plea. His fingers grazed the bundle of nerves making the man beneath him shiver. “As much as I’d love to fuck you into this mattress, Dean, I very much like hearing you beg.” 

Dean whimpered as Cas continued to slowly fuck him open with his fingers, his hands fisting the thin sheet under him. “Unngh! P-Please fuck me… need you inside me so bad.” Cas smirked and peppered kisses along Dean’s chest. “I know you can do better than that, Dean. I’ve seen you do it.” 

Dean arched his back and cried out, his mouth opening in a perfect “o” shape. “I need it! Oh, fuck I n-need it, Cas! Need you to fuck me until I can’t think anymore… Please…. Oh, fuck! Please. Please. Please…” Finally, Cas gave in. His cock replacing his fingers as he slowly thrust inside Dean to the hilt. Both cried out in unison, their bodies thrumming with arousal. 

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean softly before starting a steady pace. It was a wonder the poorly built cot didn’t break beneath them. Dean’s cries filled the small room as Cas fucked into him relentlessly. “Oh, fu-... C-Cas! Oh, Cas! R-Right there!” They’d done this enough that Cas knew Dean was close. The way his body shook, how desperate he sounded when he moaned, and how he clenched around him. He’d normally draw this out, take his time with his hunter, but this was something they both needed. 

Cas began to stroke Dean’s thick cock in time with his thrusts, his angelic grace causing the lightbulbs above them to burst with all the energy in the room. Both of them fell over the edge together, Dean’s cries swallowed by Cas’ kiss. 

Once they came down from their high, Cas carefully pulled out of Dean and pulled him close. “Dean, you complete me. From the moment my father told me to rescue you from Hell, I knew my life would change forever.” Dean kissed Cas sweetly and nuzzled into his neck. “I love you, Cas. M’heart s’yours.” 

Sometime later, Sam came home from the library and noticed how quiet the Bunker was. He made his way to the hospital room and snorted to himself at the broken glass on the floor. Glancing at the cot, he smiled widely at the sight of his brother and Cas asleep in each other’s arms. 

“Thank God.” He breathed.

Forever Tags: @desiree-0816​

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Slash Fiction - Ch 1

Title: Slash Fiction 

Fandom: Supernatural

Series: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel (there will be more)

Rating: Lemon (for the series as a whole)

Tags: fluff, angst, pining, conon typical violence and gore

MASTERLIST

AO3

SERIES LIST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henderson Castle, Kalamazoo, Michigan

     “Jerry, I'm gonna head out, call me if there's any trouble.”

     “Will do, miss Amanda.”

     The man behind the desk waived to the blonde woman heading out the door with a smile. When she was gone he stepped out from behind the desk, fixed his tie and smoothed down his black suit jacket, and began his usual nightly rounds.

     The bed and breakfast was usually pretty quiet in the evenings. The most the night manager would encounter was the occasional night owl holed up in one of the lounges, either watching videos on a laptop or reading a book. Tonight seemed to be no different.

     He made his way through the first floor, stopping by the bar to check in, then wandered up to the second floor to circle the halls. All seemed quiet so far. 

     He was about to head up to the third floor when a noise from behind caught his attention. He turned, finding a woman in a slim black silk dress, black shoulder length hair, she was beautiful. But he couldn't remember seeing her before and he definitely did not check her in.

     “Ma’am, can I help you?”

     She said nothing, just stood and stared at him. He tried again, “Ma’am, are you in need of some assistance? I am the night manager, perhaps I can help you.”

     In the blink of an eye she was across the hall and directly in front of him, and before he could let out a gasp she had a single hand around his throat. With one hand she lifted him off the ground, her grip so tight he couldn’t breathe let alone call for help. And in the silence of the dark halls he was completely helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bunker, Present Day

     “Yeah, sure, Bobby, we’ll check it out,” Sam nodded as he walked into the common room and sat on the couch, “we’ll call you when we get there. Bye.”

     “What was that about?” Dean asked, looking up from his laptop.

     Sam placed his phone back in his pocket and opened his own computer, typing a few words before turning the computer to face Dean. “That was Bobby. He caught wind of a job he wanted us to go check out in Kalamazoo, Michigan.”

     Dean furrowed his brows as he looked at the article on the screen and read aloud, “This guy was found hanging upside down in the second floor hallway of a bed and breakfast, sliced open, heart missing, and throat slashed. What the hell…?”

     “What are you talking about?” Sera walked in and joined them on the couches, sitting beside Dean and reading the article for herself. “Seriously? You think this is our kind of thing?”

     “Bobby does,” Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair, “and we’ve checked out less before.”

     “Doesn't hurt to stop by. Wait…” She touched the mouse pad, scrolling before looking back up to Sam. “This is Henderson Castle, it's one of the most haunted places in America, supposedly. People who have stayed here before have reported the feeling of being touched, radios and phones going haywire, seeing things, but none of it's ever been proven before and no ones ever been killed. So why all of a sudden is this happening? Are you sure it's not just some crazy human?”

     “It could be, people are nuts,” Dean nodded beside her as Sam continued, “but I told Bobby we’d take a look anyways, we can head out tonight.”

     “Sure,” she said as she stood and stretched, “I’ll pack a bag.”

     As she turned to walk back to her room, Dean caught sight of the front of her shirt, a familiar band logo on the front, and grabbed her arm turning her back, “Hey, is that my shirt? Did you sleep in that last night?”

      “Maybe,” she said as she removed herself from his grip, “I may have neglected to do my laundry, that and the smell of your cologne helps me sleep.”

      Sam let a chuckle escape him, “You guys are too much sometimes.”

     “You've lived here for over a year now, do your own damn laundry.”

     She stuck her tongue out at him as she disappeared around the corner, making Dean shake his head with a smile. “God I missed her.”

     “Me too,” Sam nodded, “I’m glad she stayed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “So what was this guys name?” Sera asked as they got out of the car, all dressed in their suits, fake badges in hand.

     Sam looked down at his phone, going over the article again, “Jerry Melden, he was sixty-five years old, he was the night manager here.”

     They walked inside looking around for a second and taking in the place. It still had all the old furniture and decor from back in the day, but the place was well kept. They eyed the front desk then, and walked over to talk to the young man standing behind it. 

     Dean flashed his badge, followed by Sam and Sera, “Hi, I’m agent Perry, these are agents Pineda and Smith.” They all placed their badges back in their jackets. “We're here to ask you a few questions about Jerry Melden.”

     “What…” the young boy looked between the three of them nervously, then back to Dean, “what do you want to know?”

     “Before Mr. Melden’s death, was there anything strange happening in the building?” Sam asked.

     “Not that I can think of,” the kid shook his head, “it's all been normal. Not much happens here.”

     “And did Mr. Melden have any troubles with any of the guests lately?” Dean asked, “Any arguments or unhappy customers that he may have dealt with.”

     “No,” the kid brought up a binder from under the desk and opened it up, “any time Jerry had any problems on the night shift, which was rare, he would tell Amanda the owner. And when there was some kind of incident it always got written in here. But the last entry was when he had to call the cops on a man that was causing problems in the bar. He was escorted out and we never saw him again, but that was almost eight months ago.”

     “Any way someone could have gotten past the front desk without being seen, and headed upstairs?”

     “That's not possible.”

     “You have key cards,” Sera chimed in, pointing to the elevators, “no one can get to the second floor without a key card.”

     The kid nodded, “That’s right.”

     Sera walked back over to the desk, “Does that mean you have an internal record of every time a door opens?” The kid nodded again. “That means you know exactly which doors were opened at what time that night.”

     The kid nodded once again but gave her a sad look, “The police already went through all of that information and cross checked it with the guests statements. No one was out of their room that night aside from Mr. Miller, who was in the bar down here with our bartender Hank. And the only one who had used the elevator since the afternoon was Jerry when he went upstairs to make his rounds. Sorry, guys.”

     “It's alright,” Dean slapped a hand on the desk then turned and pointed to the elevators, “any way you could get us up there to have a look at the scene?”

     “The police already sent a crew in to clean it, but if you still wanna go up I can open the doors for you.”

     “That would be great.”

     The kid walked them over to the elevator and used his key card to open the doors, “You can get back down whenever you're finished without the key card. Sorry I couldn't be of much more help.”

     They gave the kid a nod and Sam leaned over to push the button for the second floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “This makes no sense,” Sera furrowed her brows as she walked through the halls, “there's no EMF at all. So, even the past accounts of hauntings here are bogus, and whatever killed Jerry Melden was not a spirit.”

     “Then what?” Dean asked, standing from where he had been checking the grates, “There's nothing. No EMF, no sulfur, nothing. And what kind of monster do we know that strings people upside down, cuts them open, takes their heart, and slits their throat?”

     “But there's no way it could have been human, Dean,” Sam scratched his head, “no one was out of their room or able to get past the front desk to kill Jerry.”

     “None of it makes sense.” Sera turned once more with the EMF meter just to be sure, before shaking her head and putting it in her pocket.

     “You folks are a bit early.”

     All three of them turned towards the man now walking down the hall. He was a stalky, older man, dressed in the same suit as the kid downstairs. 

     “Early for what?” Dean asked, confused.

     “The convention doesn't start until tomorrow morning, I'm sorry if Carter told you otherwise, he’s still in training.” 

     “We aren't here for a convention,” Sera walked over and took her badge out, showing the man, “we’re investigating the death of Jerry Melden.”

     “You're real agents?” The man asked with raised brows, and the three nodded just as confused as he seemed to be. “My apologies agents, I just assumed you were attending tomorrow's convention.”

     “You're still having a convention here tomorrow even though there was a murder here a few days ago?”

     “The man running the convention insisted we continue with the event, he then donated a generous sum of money and said that the murder would ‘add to the ombiance of the convention’,” the man shrugged then continued, “My name is Vincent Holwell, is there anything I can help you with?”

     “We already spoke to your front desk worker about what happened here,” Sam answered, “but maybe you can tell us a bit more about Mr. Melden. Did you know him well?”

     “Well,” he chuffed, “we've known each other since we were kids. Went to the same elementary school, the same highschool, we even started here on the same day.”

     “Did he have any enemies?” Dean asked, “Anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?”

     “No, no,” Vincent shook his head, “everyone loved Jerry. Wouldn't hurt a fly that man.”

     “What about family, is there anyone we can talk to?” Vincent shook his head, looking away from Sera as she asked.

     “His wife died five years ago, they never had any kids, and the rest of Jerry's family has been passed for over ten years now. I was all he had left.”

     Sera placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze, “We’re very sorry, Mr. Holwell.”

     Vincent nodded still looking at the floor when his phone went off in his pocket. He pulled it out and then looked up at the three of them, trying to keep his composure as best he could, clearing his throat. “Well, I must be off. That's Carter letting me know that the guys are here to set up for tomorrow's convention. If you agent’s are finished here I can walk with you.”

     “That would be great,” Sam nodded to him and they all got in the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                PROLOGUE     NEXT

Tags: @kitsunecastiel

[ciderapples]

How it Goes

Destiel/14x12 coda | on AO3

It's late, and they're beat.

The bunker is dim: necessary lights only.

Dean puts on Tom Waits and forgets about it, and as Sam finishes a sandwich and Cas translates, he wanders away into the beer closet and doesn’t come back.

There’s an end in sight. There always is, these days, but this one's weird and doesn’t sit right with anyone.

Dean, in a box at the bottom of the ocean, with an archangel.

It even sounds stupid.

Not to mention, the tightest space Dean’s ever been able to stand is Baby’s back seat, and then only with the windows cracked. That Dean would be able to stomach an hour in the box — even on dry land, in the safety of the bunker — is dubious. Now, under the ocean? Supplied with a steady stream of his own worst memories by an angel who, if he can’t destroy the world, will settle for torturing Dean, instead?

With all the gods and witches and possibilities in the world, this is the plan?

Cas marks the page where he stops and slides his translation aside.

This can't be how it ends. Not with Dean walking around like a wrong-ended magnet, repelling all of them, refusing to be approached, or to talk, or to deal, while Cas is this close to the end of seeing him forever.

He finds Dean's door unlocked, and feels an uneasy roll of worry when he turns the knob and realizes it's just going to open.

Either Dean knew he was coming, or Dean knew someone would be coming, or he's panicking: an unlocked door, this time of night, this many beers in...in Dean’s unspoken language, it's almost translatable as a scream, something loud enough to echo.

All the lights are off in Dean's room, except for the TV. It’s a small old set, probably boosted from a shitty motel too cheap to replace it, which means that somewhere in middle America there’s an empty spot on a pressboard bureau. An empty spot in the wall socket. A bill that’ll never be paid, on a credit card that doesn’t exist.

It must remind Dean of home.

Cas doesn’t recognize what he’s watching. There’s a woman, but she’s not naked. A man, not trying to have sex with her, though he does have guns, and seems to be made halfway of metal.

 Wait.

“That man is a politician,” Cas accuses.

Dean shifts on the bed where he’s splayed out, watching the former governor of California shoot people.

“That’s the Terminator,” Dean says.

“The Terminator,” Cas repeats. It’s not that human words confuse him anymore, it’s that he doesn’t get how any human could get from Point A to Point B: elected official, from…terminating. Terminating a lot.

“Cas.”

It’s a three-letter word but Dean slurs it. Fatigue, not alcohol. Alcohol doesn’t touch Dean like it used to (though that doesn’t stop him from drinking). There’s enough going on, that… Well. It’d take a stronger drug.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Cas says.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “I know.” On his breath, resignation rolls over cold. Like talking about the box is worse than the box itself will ever be. He stirs again on the bed, shoving himself up against the headboard. “C’mon, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Hurt shines out of Cas’ eyes at that, and Dean seems surprised, and relents. He doesn’t say anything in apology, but he gives Cas a deliberately softer look of exasperation and hopes he’ll settle for it.

The hurt dampens, but remains. Cas pads into Dean’s tiny, bare fortress and stands in the middle of it, unsure of how to be, and Dean folds up, bracing against what hasn’t yet been said: head ducked and arms crossed over his lap.

“Lay it on me, Cas,” he says.

Cas is ready to. But then there’s this moment of long, deep darkness, when everything is the flicker of television and the sounds of a car chase, and Dean’s face is gray in the light and his eyes shine up more than they should, and Cas catches the faint press of Dean’s chin trying to keep his mouth from flexing, and Cas remembers with sudden clarity what’s been too easy to forget (because Dean's made it easy on purpose, and because the threat of loss has Cas cornered inside himself, selfish and jealous):

 Dean doesn’t want to go.

And if Dean were any lesser of a person — even by a hair — he couldn't make himself, even if he did want to.

But Dean is Dean, and Dean’s resolve is unique among men: it makes a stripe across his soul, visible from anywhere.

And Cas, who came filled with things to say, suddenly doesn’t want to.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dean says.

Cas blinks.

He refocuses, away.

In what way was he looking at Dean?

Was it the same way Dean’s been looking at him?

Sad? Tired? Given up?

Dean sighs, suddenly, a sigh that takes his shoulders down with it, his chin falling to his chest, a dark hiccup in the shadows that could be the open and shut of a mouth. Cas leans forward on his toes, and catches Dean’s words despite their being almost-not-there.

“Look." Dean shakes his head at the ground. "I’ll say it, if you need that.”

Cas’s shiver is an instant reflex that his coat hides well.

The ‘it’ is no mystery, not to either of them, but this is the first time Dean’s ever acknowledged that it exists at all: real, and not just a strange habit Cas has fallen into all on his own. An anxious flurry follows, a thrash against glass that Cas’ lungs makes, and suddenly Cas realizes (and understands, and accepts, all in the same moment) that this is the real reason he’s come here, tonight. That the box is just a timer counting down, applying urgency, and all Cas' other questions, all his other arguments, are just a way to shine light on this thing that’s been chained in the shade for so long.

Dean can’t go away before it gets a first breath, or a last, if that’s the way it has to go.

It would be wrong, otherwise: wrong in a built-in way, like blasphemy, something you can’t explain why but it upsets the order of the world itself.

Cas steps forward while Dean keeps talking.

“I’d just as soon not,” Dean admits. “I don’t feel like giving whoever’s listening-” he rolls a finger toward the heavens “—the ammunition.” His lips press together, maybe between his teeth. “But I owe you, for a lot. Before I go.” Dean’s gaze picks up again, startling Cas at four paces. All the little lines around his eyes, fine as feathers, come out with his defensive squint. “Or, we could just…leave it where it is."

There’s no way Cas takes him up on that, and Dean knows it. He creases a small smile into his face and sits back again, straighter, but exhausted. Cas finally reaches the little chair at the side of Dean’s bed and balances, rather than sits, on its very edge.

“I don’t want to leave it,” he says, roughed-up even by his own standards. “I don’t want you to do this.”

“I know,” Dean says quietly, almost comfortingly. “I know.” He reaches out to tug the corner of Cas’ coat (the one he never takes off, even indoors, and they’ve all just stopped questioning it) and lets his thumb hook in, under the sleeve.

There’s nothing to argue and both of them know it. Only a miracle could change the future, now. And miracles exist, which, just knowing that is more hope than people usually get to cling to, but it’s still so brutally insufficient.

Everything about this is insufficient.

Dean’s attention has slipped to the lock of his hand and Cas’ sleeve, and Cas says his name to bring him back.

“I’ll still be out there, right?” Dean offers, as comfort. “I mean, I won’t be gone, gone.”

“That’s worse,” Cas says. “That’s much worse.”

“Worse than what? What else is there, at this point? You want to take me up to heaven instead? Put me in my own memories forever?” Dean shakes his head. “Just another box, Cas. At least this one keeps the world from ending.”

Cas doesn’t address the grossly unequal comparison. “There are other ways to keep the world from ending. We will find one.”

“When you do,” Dean says, smiling faintly, “you can come haul me up.”

Cas’ whole chest jolts, heart to ribs to spine. Hearing it put so concretely is a misery. Dean will be under the water. Dean will be at the bottom of the ocean. In a box. Completely alone. Cas suddenly slips out of breath and tries to gasp it back, and his whole head gets flustered about it until Dean’s hand comes down on his shoulder.

“In and out, buddy,” he says, leaning in. “Easy. In and out.”

Cas listens. Cas obeys. Dean’s face hovers next to him, Dean’s voice passes instructions through his ears, and slowly breathing gets easier, and eventually existing feels normal again.

“You okay?” Dean asks. He leans in a little more cautiously, inspecting.

Cas just nods. He’s not alright. Only in a relative sense could he even come close. His shoulder is warm and weak under Dean’s grip, and his eyes feel bad and strange, and the TV is hurting his ears. Dean seems to infer this last part, and he digs the remote out of a fold in the bedding and stops the movie.

The sudden silence buzzes.

“I can’t let you do this,” Cas whispers. He whispers it in shame, because Dean can do this, but Cas doesn’t know if he has the strength to allow the world to live on while Dean suffers. He can’t see a future that exists this way, where Dean is screaming and screaming and Cas can hear every cry but do nothing. “You may have to kill me,” he says, very seriously.

Dean assumes histrionics and scoffs. “Cas-”

“You don't understand. I’m- I’m not sure of my ability to allow this to happen,” Cas clarifies, and now Dean stops. The hand on Cas’ shoulder tightens.

“Cas,” Dean says. His hand tightens again, and his face goes upset with it until he makes it relax. “This is why I don’t want to go down this road. It’s not gonna make anything any easier, you know that.”

Cas doesn’t doubt him. But this isn’t about ‘easier.’ There’s no way to make a Mal’ak box easier. There’s no way to send Dean off to not die, ever. It’s the opposite of Cas’ job. Cas brings Dean home.

“And it’s not just because of the box,” Dean clarifies. “Even without the box. Even if we just stayed here, business as usual. It’s this life, Cas; there’s just things you can’t have. Everywhere we go, we make an army of enemies who are just waiting for any way in. Any weakness, Cas, any little crack in the wall.” He looks away for a minute. “Any time we have something, it goes bad. Mom and dad. Jessica. Lisa and Ben. Even Sam and me, I mean, how many times…” He drifts off. “That’s the lay of the land, here, all right? If it means something to you, it’s gone.”

“Sam-”

“What about Sam?” Dean is a knife that tilts up in light, glinting.

Cas voice runs away.

“Here’s the truth,” Dean growls. It’s so bitter Cas can taste it. “If I could snap my fingers and never see him again, but I would know, every day, that he’s out there living a life where he gets to be happy — I mean stupid happy — I would’ve done it thirty years ago. I’d do it now. I’d do it yesterday. But he’s here, and he knows how I feel about him, and do you really think that makes it easier to lose him? He’s died more than I’m willing to remember. I promise you- I swear to you, Cas, it’s not easier.”

Resistance straps Cas’ jaw tight to his skull. He wants to fight back, but doesn’t know how: Dean’s telling the truth, his truth, and Cas doesn’t have another. Something burns in his face, painfully.

“Cas- don’t-” Dean says haltingly. Cas hears him move but can’t see how or where, because his eyes are broken, but Dean’s hands on his shoulders move up to his face, and thumbs touch under his eyes, wet and slipping. It’s a jarring touch — surprising from Dean, whom Cas has seen be deft, and quick, and even delicate, but never this. “Hey,” Dean says, almost under his breath. He murmurs lies in a tone that’s also surprising. Cas wonders if anyone else has heard it, in the history of Dean. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Please don’t go,” Cas says, in a voice he can barely command. This awful human feeling is just wrapped, entwined, in every piece of his body, tightening and tightening, and his words come out high and strangled. “Please, please don’t go. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he bargains. “I’ll find something-”

But, “No,” is all Dean repeats, until Cas stops making empty promises. He finally gets Cas’ eyes clear and lets his thumbs rest on his cheekbones, back of Cas’ head braced between his wrists. “Listen to me,” he says, trying to anchor Cas’ focus, moving into his jumpy gaze. “No matter what happens, I need you to be okay, alright? I need you to be here for Sam.”

“No,” he creaks.

Cas will not say yes to this.

It’s cruel for Dean even to ask.

“C’mon, Cas. That’s the way it has to be.” Dean’s head tilts so far to the side it leads Cas with it. They both pause, tipped like little birds. Cas can’t look away. He puts his hands up around Dean’s wrists to keep him there, fingers loosely wrapped, palms warm and feeling, so slightly, the pulse running up Dean’s arms.

“No,” he whispers again, and Dean accepts it this time. No argument. He floats his thumbs over Cas’ skin a few times, from the smooth to the stubble.

“Okay,” he says.

Cas doesn’t like ‘okay’. It feels like he’s being dismissed. Shut out. Like Dean’s giving up on him. And the look on Dean’s face doesn’t help any. He’s focused down and away, like he can see the skin under his hands, the swallow in Cas’ throat.

“Dean-”

“I love you,” Dean says.

Cas chokes on whatever he was about to say. He does his best to stifle it, given their proximity, and succeeds partway. He coughs the last of it out of the wrong pipe and while he does, Dean stays silent, doesn’t say anything more — just lets what he said sit between them, small and quiet and stunning. Cas reaches to envelop it with every sense he has: to cover it and keep it from dissipating. For a second he can see it, gold and holy — is it his grace that perceives this, or is it all in his head?

I love you makes a cavern inside him, and Dean lights it. But then Dean goes in the box and everything goes dark, and the cavern remains but fear floods in, pitch black and rising until it’s filled, suffocated in the space of a moment.

Dean watches Cas’ face as it happens: like he understands.

Like it’s happened to him, too.

The fear seeps up Cas’ throat while he’s clawing to protect this thing that’s drowning, and Dean doesn’t have to say I told you so. If it were impossible to let Dean go before, it’s absolutely unquestionable now.

“I get it,” Dean says. “Believe me, I get it.” He firms his grip and gives Cas’ head a little shake, so small. It’s an instruction: don’t do this. Spare yourself. But it brings Cas' face closer, too, within what, for Dean, is usually best described as headbutting distance, but here is very different. It seems like a map that Dean's laying out, a clear what-happens-next if Cas doesn't let this drop, and what a very strange way this is to try to dissuade him. Dean's breathing is changed, his eyes are dark, he keeps pulling Cas' face just a little bit closer as he's warning Cas not to take his foot off the brakes.

Dean's gaze dips to Cas' mouth. It doesn't stay; it bolts away; it's barely there long enough to be seen. But Cas suddenly realizes he's been fooled, just like with the box, misdirected with every tool in Dean's belt for a very long time.

Dean doesn't want to go.

And Dean does want this.

Cas goes wide-eyed at him, the happiest and worst he’s ever been.

There's a word Cas has been jealous of since humanity took it, warped it, and made it carry water that angels couldn’t drink. He’s used it in its duller form, toward his father, toward his brothers, even toward humanity, though only in a whole, nebulous way. He’s spoken of love, he’s spoken from love. He’s aching to speak in love, even at the cost of having it ripped away.

He puts his hands desperately on the sides of Dean’s head, mirroring the grasp Dean has on him, and Dean's skin wakes under his touch, blushing in the dark.

Cas opens his mouth, and owns it.

[hannah-deserved-better]

Emotions are dangerous temptations Ch. 3

So this is one of the very first Supernatural fics I ever wrote. I recently came across it and decided to try to finish it. Although I am a hardcore Hanstiel shipper and I don’t really ship anyone that gets between that ship, I wanted to step outside my comfort zone for one fic only because I wanted to illustrate how Castiel views love, whether it’s romantic or friendship. Castiel has a lot of love to give and this is about his devotion to those he loves. Note that I am not a Destiel shipper so that will not be a part of this fic, although there will be plenty of Dean friendship with everyone.

Castiel and Sam bond while being caretakers for those they love. Castiel is caring for an ailing Hannah and Sam is caring for Dean and the two are later joined by someone they thought was lost forever. As Castiel falls in love for the first time, he soon realizes that he’s not just falling in love with one person.

 Catching Dean and restraining him was no easy task. When Castiel followed Sam into the bunker, they were immediately on alert. Dean was a deadly hunter, but so was Sam. The two of them slunk slowly down the hall area, listening to any movement.

 “Where are you, Sammy?” came Dean’s voice from somewhere up ahead. The bunker was massive, and there were many places to hide. “I’m getting tired of this game!”

 “Sam, stand here,” Castiel said as he ducked into an empty closet. Sam looked at him, puzzled at first before realization dawned in his eyes.

 “You want to use me as bait?” Sam questioned. Castiel thought on that, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

 “Yes,” he replied bluntly. “Stand there. You claimed Dean wished to bash your brains in with a hammer. If you stand there, I’m sure he’ll find you.” Sam blinked.

 “Um… okay, good idea,” Sam replied, raising a brow in ambivalence, and Castiel wondered if he had perhaps been a little too literal. But Sam went along with it, standing in the center of the hallway while Castiel hid in the darkness of the closet. “Uh, Dean!” he called. “I’m over here in the hallway. I know you don’t want to do this, I know you are still in there somewhere. Please, Dean-”

 Sam was cut off when Dean suddenly appeared at the end of the hallway. Castiel ducked further into the closet but watched and waited.

 “Heya, Sammy,” Dean chided. Castiel winced. There was none of the usual friendly banter that he knew of Dean. This Dean was cold, callous, and uncaring as he sauntered towards Sam, gripping a hammer tight in his hands. “Do I look stupid to you?”

 “What are you talking about?” Sam stood there facing his brother while Dean glanced to the side, looking for what traps Sam might have set there. He wasn’t buying that Sam suddenly wanted to talk, knowing that Dean was trying to kill him.

 “I’m just done running,” Sam said, stepping closer to Dean. “And if you really want it to end this way, if you think you’d be better off without me in your way then, go ahead. If you can kill your own brother, after everything we’ve been through, I’m not going to stop you.” Sam’s voice wavered slightly, heavy with emotion. He held his arms out to the side in surrender and lowered himself to his knees, gazing up at his brother.

 Dean seemed to hesitate. But only for a moment. A cruel, twisted grin came over him as he lifted the hammer over Sam’s head. “Sorry, Sammy, it’s not going to work,” he said simply. The second he took a swing, Castiel launched out of his hiding spot, barreling into Dean before he could hurt Sam.

 The angel and the demon crashed into the wall, and Sam scrambled to his feet, diving in to help. Dean struggled, trying to swing the hammer while Castiel wrestled with him. He was stronger than usual due to the demon inside of him, but he was no match for Cas. He still managed a few swings at Cas, the impacts of the hammer hitting him in the head and shoulder.

 Castiel yanked the hammer out of Dean’s hands, blood pouring out of a gash in his forehead, which quickly healed itself. “You can’t bash my brains in, Dean,” he explained as he pinned the struggling Dean onto his back, straddling him. “Or did you forget that I’m an angel?”

 Dean growled in frustration and rage. “Get off me!” he exclaimed, struggling with all his might as Castiel managed to flip him onto his stomach, pulling his arms back. “Let me go!”

 “Sorry, Dean,” Sam knelt and secured Dean’s arms with handcuffs. “We have to do this.”

 “No, you don’t!” Dean exclaimed as Castiel hoisted him up and dragged him back towards the dungeon. “You’re a hypocrite; you know that Sam! If you had any sense, you’d kill me now!”

 “How am I a hypocrite, Dean?” Sam asked as he and Castiel shoved Dean into the chair and then slid it into one of the cells. They worked together to strap him to the chair.

 “You said I only saved you because I didn’t want to be alone. That I did it for my own selfish reasons.” Dean snarled. “Well, look at what you’ve done. Sacrificing an innocent man to a demon? At least I don’t have that kind of blood on my hands!”

 Castiel glanced at Sam with concern, “what is he talking about, Sam?” Sam turned away from him, focusing on finishing up with Dean’s restraints.

 “Nothing,” Sam said quickly, clearing his throat. “Hey look, I think I can take it from here, you should go get Hannah. I’ll get started with the treatments, and I’ll try to research angel poisons.”

 Castiel sighed, sensing something might have happened. He didn’t like the implications Dean was making, and the look on Sam’s face told him there might be some truth to what his brother was saying. He’d have to confront him about it later. Right now, Sam was right.

 “Hannah?” Dean raised a brow at Cas as the angel looked him over. Castiel felt almost sick at the expression he got from Dean. His best friend, his family, there was nothing but hate in those eyes. “You got a girl in the car, Cas? Good, when I get out, I’ll kill her too. How’s that?”

 “I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel offered sympathetically. “But we’re going to help you, I promise.” With that, he hurried out the door, feeling relieved to get out of that situation if only for a moment. He felt terrible for leaving Sam during this challenging time when it was clear that Sam was barely holding it together as it was, but seeing Dean suffering like he was, even if Dean himself couldn’t see it in his current condition, was heartbreaking.

 But more heartbreak awaited Castiel when he finally made it back out to the car. He hurried to Hannah, opening the passenger door carefully and kneeling down. The sight he saw nearly broke him.

 Hannah sat against her chair, shaking, her head lulled to one side, her hair shielding her face from view, but Castiel could make out the sickeningly greyish blue color of her skin and angry dark veins creeping up the side of her neck.

 “Oh, Hannah…” he breathed as he reached over and gently pulled her face towards him. She gazed up at him through pain-filled, glazed over eyes. She could only whimper, an indication of the terrible pain she was in. “I’ve got you,” he said softly as he gathered her into his arms and hurried back into the bunker.

 As soon as he opened the door, Castiel wanted to turn and run. From down in the depth of the dungeon, Dean cried out in pain, no doubt the result of Sam injecting him with the painful sanctified blood treatments. Castiel carried Hannah is his arms as he headed for the bedroom he often used when he resided in the bunker. Carefully, he lay her on the bed, draping a blanket over her.

 “Castiel…” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I can’t take the pain. You have to kill me. Please…” Castiel frowned at her begging. Quickly, he put a finger to her forehead and used his powers to sedate her. Her body fell limp as her eyes rolled up, and she passed out.

 Castiel went about making Hannah more comfortable, taking off her overcoat, her shoes, tucking her into the bed. He leaned in close, getting a better look at the dark, thick, veins running up the sides of her neck and head. Lifting her blouse to look at the wound, he found it had healed over, but the veins crisscrossed her torso, running up and down the entire length of the sides of her body. For all his vast knowledge, this was something Castiel was utterly in the dark about. There were very few poisons out there that could hurt an angel, and he knew about all of them, but this was something different.

 She could rest for now. His angelic sedation wouldn’t last long, and with his own borrowed grace, he wouldn’t be able to use that power, especially on another angel, for very long. But at least she was at peace for the time being. Castiel found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. Conflicted feelings coursed through him. As an angel, feelings, emotions were still so confusing to him; he couldn’t quite understand what it was he was feeling now. Helplessness, frustration, heartache, and, most of all, fear. Fear that he was watching his closest friends die slow and painful.

 Castiel never imagined that emotion could be so crippling. It was as if some unseen hand had him by the throat and was strangling him. It hurt. He hurt. He found it almost difficult to breathe; it was nearly physical. Angels didn’t feel emotion; he wasn’t supposed to feel like this! Silently, he begged for it to go away. Why was he feeling this way? Seeing Hannah suffer, seeing Dean suffer, seeing the emotional trauma in Sam’s eyes, and feeling it himself… was this what it was truly like to be human? If it was, then maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to emulate them. It seemed less painful just to shut away these turbulent emotions surging within him.

 But he couldn’t turn them off. His friends needed him now; they needed him to be strong. He certainly didn’t feel strong right now, but he had to appear that way to them. He leaned in close, pressing his lips against Hannah’s cheek, a gesture he didn’t quite understand, but it felt right. It felt like the right thing to do, even though he knew she couldn’t sense him right now. “I’m going to save you,” he vowed, the determination he felt apparent in his voice. “I promise I’m going to save you, Hannah.”

 She said nothing. Just slept. He got up and took in a breath. Sam and Dean needed him right now.

[emptywithout]

The Way You Breathe (part 22)

Welcome Back

Word count:1036

Warnings: None

Wincest warnings: hugging, loving touches

There was a knock on the door. It startled Dean so much he nearly lost his balance. He was on his toes, kneeling down beside his brother. Sam was calm and still, his eyes closed. When he collapsed, Dean had placed him on the couch, kneeling beside him. It was mere seconds later that the knocking came.

Dean glanced at the door, then down the hallway. He put his hand on his waistband, ready to draw his weapon. Strangely, no one had woken up. Hunters have good ears, you see. Any slight noise would have woken them up. Did he imagine it?  Dean frowned, shaking his head, turning back to Sam.

The knocking became a pounding. Dean instantly stood up, grabbing for his gun. He unmistakably had heard this one. When still no one came from the hallway, Dean swallowed. This was clearly just for him.

Shaking slightly, gun pointed straight ahead, he yanked open the door. Standing there was the same demon that he had earlier pinned to the wall. He wore a simple suit and sunglasses, a toothpick hanging out of his mouth.

“What the fuck do you want,” Dean’s voice was gruff.

But the demon did not speak. He merely held out a white envelope and smirked, spitting his toothpick on the porch. Dean’s lips grew tight and his heart pounded rapidly in his chest. He closed his eyes very briefly, trying to steady himself. His palms now damp with nervous perspiration, he cautiously reached out and took the envelope. The demon immediately vanished.

“Son of a bitch!” he yelled, slamming the front door. He shoved his gun in his waistband and strode toward the living room.

Seconds later, all three hunters were running down the hallway, guns drawn, their expressions panicked.

“Guess what,” Dean growled, waving the white envelope in front of him.

**

Dean and the others had moved to where Sam was still unconscious on the couch. Bobby had brought each of them a tumbler of whiskey.

“Steadies the nerves,” he said, encouraging everyone to drink. They all did.

It took a while to describe the events of the morning, but Dean shared what he had seen on the hill, how powerful Sam looked. How deliberate his movements were. “He was simply – beautiful,” Dean said, looking down at his brother. Then he blushed when he realized his words.

“It’s ok Dean. Go on. It’s ok.” Jo offered. Dean nodded, grateful for his amazing family.

“I’ve never seen him like that before.” He sighed, playing with Sam’s soft hair.

Dean continued, explaining how he had turned and left him alone, only to hear him calling out moments later – and how he found him collapsed, bleeding, and how he had passed out in his arms. He sat by Sam’s head, stroking his hair the whole time he spoke.

“Wow,” breathed Jo, plopping back into the recliner. “That’s really intense, Dean.”

Bobby was looking at Sam, his eyes filled with sadness. He rested his hand on Sam’s head and patted it gently.

But Ellen just looked pissed. “If she’s dead, then what the hell is this?” she asked, holding tightly to the still sealed letter. Dean swallowed. He didn’t want to open it, but Ellen thrust it into his hands.

“Dunno. But let’s just get this over with.” Dean slowly tore open the envelope, and with trembling fingers unfolded the letter.

Dean,

Well kudos to you, kiddo. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. I’ll bet Sam is unconscious somewhere, too. Have you found him? You should keep an eye on him, because the next thing that’s gonna happen is Sam’s gonna unleash that spell I stored inside him. Oh, and if he was the one to kill me? Even better.

You see, I put a little resurrection spell inside your little brother. I won’t be gone for long, I promise. Sam’s a good vessel, he should be able to hold me for a long time.

You won’t be able to stop me now, Dean. Sam and I will be one. And then I will be powerful enough to rule Hell. Finally.

Just thought you should know, so you could have a chance to say goodbye. I’m not totally cruel. Which should be happening momentarily, if I did everything right.

And Dean? I’m fair, so I will tell you this. Only one thing could save your precious Sam. Only one.

The truth. You have to tell him the truth. About what you did. Back oh so many years ago. I know you’ve never told him. Because it would have weakened him. Killed his soul just enough that I wouldn’t be able to ride him. But I know you never will. You could never tell him what you did. It would kill you. Sam would hate you.

So ha! I win again, Dean-o.

You don’t have the balls.

See you soon…

Ruby.

 All eyes moved to Sam. Dean began to tremble. Ellen came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. She gave a quick, reassuring kiss to his forehead. “It’ll be alright Dean.”

“How…can she really…I don’t –“Dean began, but stopped as Sam started to squirm on the couch. He sat up slowly, grabbing his side as he winced in pain.

“Dean? What happened? What did – “ Dean leapt forward, pulling out of Ellen’s grip.

“Oh Sammy. Thank god. Thank god. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you again. I love you, I can’t –“

Sam wrapped his arms tighter around his brother. He seemed confused and scared. The boys just held each other, while Jo and Ellen hugged, relieved that Sam was back. Bobby stood, still wary of the whole situation. It seemed too good to be true. “Dean.” He warned, his voice gentle.

Dean pulled back, looking into Sammy’s eyes. They were terrified. Sam’s lips trembled. Dean turned back to Bobby, reassuring him. “Bobby, it’s ok. It’s Sam. It’s fine, we –“ Dean flinched as the grip on his shoulder turned painful.

“Dean?” Bobby asked as grabbed for his knife. Dean looked back into his brother’s eyes. His beautiful kaleidoscope eyes. Sam blinked slowly. They flashed silver.

“Too late,” Sam said with a grin.

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[fanfic-scribbles]

To Want

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: The apocalypse has ended and you feel like a fifth wheel. You figure it’s time to move on.

Quick facts: Friendship – Team Free Will & Reader (and Chuck & Reader) and side-pairings of Sam/Gabriel, Dean/Castiel – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Personal angst, self-doubt, angst leading to fluff, the Sabriel and Destiel are mentioned in passing (explicitly stated but not explicit, if you get my drift), fluffy fluff ending

Words: 1573

A/N: I wanted to do fluffy Chuck/Reader but it needs some extra work, and I’ve been going off and on with this piece for a while and figure it’s as ready to post as it’s ever going to be. So have some post S5 apocalypse canon-diverged fluff. Sappy ending! I do love my sappy endings.

    You breathe and watch your exhalations float away in a cloud of white. The bench you’re sitting on is right next to a streetlamp and you feel oddly exposed. It doesn’t matter– shouldn’t matter. The corrupted black dog that has been terrorizing the town is gone and you can handle most humans. The urge to hide is almost instinctive by now, though, so you shift and try to settle onto cold stone and sip your coffee before it freezes over.

You can fight the urge to hide. The urge to run, though, is something else.

It’s been months since the apocalypse. Since Stull, since Sam grabbed hold of Michael and squashed the devil and dove into Hell. Since Gabriel made a triumphant return thanks to the big G and appeared in a nearby tree, dangling Sam by his ankle and saying “Lose something?”

Sam and Dean and Castiel are okay. Gabriel is alive and well. Your problems should be nonexistent. And yet, you don’t really know where to go from here.

Watching Dean and Cas fall into each other’s arms was a slow and frustrating process, even after they both seemed to acknowledge something was there. Watching Sam and Gabe do the same was surprising, almost dizzying, but both couples are pretty equally happy and you don’t begrudge any of them that. They’ve all gone through so much they deserve nothing but happiness.

They’re not the problem. You’re pretty sure the problem is you. No one else has said it, but you know that has to be the case. So you sit on a park bench on a cold night and wonder what you’re going to do, now, and how you’re going to leave your friends without them following you. You don’t know what would be worse– them trying to follow, or them not trying at all.

Someone calls your name and you jolt out of your thoughts. You see a familiar man walking up to you, but it can’t be…

“Chuck?” You actually rub your eyes and no, he’s not a hallucination of your tired mind. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Um, nothing. Nothing specific, anyways.” He sits down next to you and hunches over, keeping his hands in his pockets “After the apocalypse the visions died down. A lot. So I decided maybe I was off the hook, and after something like that…I don’t know; I just decided I wanted to go see the world we almost lost.” He smiles sheepishly. “So, here I am, just passing through, but I admit I sort of…felt a ‘pull’ over this way. What are you doing here? Is anything– uh– there’s nothing eating people here, is there?”

“Not anymore,” you say, trying to smile reassuringly. “Traveling, huh? That sounds like a really good idea. How’s…um, is Becky with you?”

You’re ready to call Sam with a code red when Chuck lets out a little laugh and shakes his head. “We, uh, we broke up.”

“Oh.” That’s actually a relief, but you’re tactful enough not to show it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We– we just weren’t right, you know?” He chuckles and brings his gloved hands out to rub them together. “I’m not exactly a prince and she’s…intense.”

“True. She seems good enough though.” You sigh. She is intense, but… “We all cling to whatever we need to get by.”

Chuck’s quiet for a few moments. “Sounds like you can really relate.”

You let out a little “heh” and lean back. “I’m finding out just how hard I can cling when I know I should let go.” Something in your chest clenches and you put your hand over it. “Knowing what I should do doesn’t make it easier, though.”

Chuck puts a timid hand on yours. “How do you know you should, then?”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

“I will.”

Chuck says your name a little desperately and you watch his expression change to something pained. It confuses you until he says, “You’re…kind of scaring me right now. What’s the ‘right thing’ that you’re talking about?”

You shake your head. “Nothing that bad, Chuck. Don’t worry. I’m just…” You look at the sky, like it can help. “I need to leave, and it’s bumming me out. Cas and Sam and Gabe and Dean…I’m gonna miss them.”

“What? But everything I see makes it look like you guys fit so good together.” He squeezes your hand. “Did something happen? Did they ask you to leave?”

“No. They’re too good to me,” you say and look down. “I just know when I need to bow out and…Sam has Gabe, and Dean has Cas. They have two angels on call. They don’t need me hanging around, gumming up the works. It’s been a long time coming. Even before, Sam and Dean are real good hunters. They don’t need me. They never really did.”

“That’s not true.”

You snap your head up so fast it hurts, but you can only absently rub your neck when you find yourself staring at Castiel, Dean, Gabriel and Sam. Cas cants his head to one side and Sam comes to sit next to you, where Chuck–

–where Chuck was. You blink in surprise but the conversation at hand has you more nervous than the fact that the prophet of God has just vanished without your friends or their angels being at all concerned. That says something about your life that you’re not really ready to unpack. That says something about Chuck that you’re not really ready to unpack.

“Why would you think we don’t need you?” Sam asks, all care and concern. Gabriel is perched on the back of the bench just off to the side of Sam’s other shoulder. Someone half-sits on the armrest on your other side– Dean, you confirm with a look, with Cas right behind him. They all fit so well together, and yet…and yet you feel like you fit right with them.

But that’s wishful thinking; it must be, and you steel your nerves because one way or another this conversation has to happen, and maybe it’s a good thing it’s happening now. At least you won't be able to keep stalling.

“You guys, you’re all…” You wave your hands but nobody seems to get it. Fair. You’re trying to explain it but you’re not sure you can. “You’ve got each other. You’re all good together. Sam and Dean– you’re two of the best hunters around, and now you have your angels. You don’t need me dragging you down.”

“That’s dumb.”

You look at Gabriel, as does Sam, and by the way the archangel looks behind you, apparently Dean and Cas do the same. “What?” he asks, defensively. “It is!”

Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to you. “What Gabriel means is, of course we need you.”

“Now perhaps even more than ever,” Cas says.

That catches your attention and you look at the angel. He stares back, unflinching. “Heaven is in a state of chaos that Gabriel and I must try to help settle. We will be back whenever we can, but for the time being, we are needed elsewhere.”

“And a lot of things got stirred up in the almost-end-of-days,” Gabriel says, leaning back and defying gravity, as he does.

“We’re getting more tips all the time,” Sam says. “There’s probably more work for hunters than there ever has been.”

“And fewer hunters to deal with it,” Dean says grimly. He grips your shoulder and you look at him, surprised by the contact. “And even if we didn’t need you…so what? Isn't it enough that we want you around?”

You swallow. Protests, excuses, maybe tears; you’re not sure what. But you can’t find it in yourself to argue. Especially if Gabriel and Castiel are arguing for you to stay even when they aren’t– they must trust you to take care of Dean and Sam. And that’s enough for you.

“I guess someone has to be around to keep you two idiots from getting yourselves killed,” you say. Dean rolls his eyes and Sam snorts. Castiel smiles and Gabriel grins.

“That’s the spirit!” Gabriel hops off the bench and Sam stands. “Now can we get going before my ass literally becomes a block of ice?”

Dean scoffs as they begin to walk over to where the car is parked on the side of the road. “Your ass is not going to become a– oh, that’s cheating!”

They fade out, arguing and laughing, and you look around for Chuck only to realize Cas is still there. “What are you looking for?” he asks and looks for himself.

“Uh…” You hold up your coffee cup. “Trashcan.” Luckily there is one of those. “I’ll be right there, okay?”

Cas nods and goes after the group, while you walk in the opposite direction to a trashcan set next to a nearby tree. You take a moment to breathe, because given how gung-ho Sam and Dean sound about getting back to work, it’s probably going to be the last chance you have to do so for a while. You smile. You can’t wait.

Turning to go to the car, you can see a distant figure down the path, just standing there. You give a little wave. “Thanks, Chuck.”

The figure waves back, and disappears. You walk towards the Impala and then start to run when Dean honks impatiently.

You’ve got work to do.

[a-winchester-fairytale]

Take Your Time

Summary: When Dean shares a secret with you, you realize that sometimes all it takes is knowing the right place to go for comfort to find you.

Word Count: 1,459

Dean x Reader

A/N:  This was written for @lunarsaturn88 Valentine’s Day Challenge.  It turned out a little more angst at the beginning than I had originally planned, but it has a happy ending.  I hope you enjoy this one. 

Feedback keeps me writing!  Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!!!

The sun set in the distance and you pulled the sunshades down over your eyes to block out the bright rays shinning past the dashboard.  Dean glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you did, but he never said a word.  He knew this day was difficult for you and he tried his best all day to keep your mind off of the memories that followed you.

Valentine’s Day had been a wonderful idea when you were younger, before you knew about monsters and demons, hell’s tortures and heaven’s secrets.  Back when your biggest concern was not getting flowers like most of the other girls in your class.  Now your biggest concern was how to save humanity without losing your own.

You felt Dean’s hand cover yours, his fingers squeezing lightly around your own and you instinctively squeezed back.  You heard him sigh a little in relief, but you kept your eyes focused on the fields flying by outside of baby’s windows. 

You didn’t want to burden him with your thoughts.  He had so many things to worry about, the last thing you wanted was to be one of them.  You tried to pretend that you weren’t thinking of all you had lost on this day last year, but deep down you knew you weren’t fooling him. 

The two of you travelled in silence for a couple of hours.  Dean never even turned on the radio, but neither of you minded the silence.  It was comfortable for the both of you.  If anyone else had been there, things might have been different, but you and Dean never had the need for the noise.  You simply needed each other.

Feeling the tires beneath you leave the pavement pulled you out of your own thoughts and you looked over at Dean with concern.  He stopped on a bluff outside of Lebanon, only a few miles from the bunker, and slowly stepped out of the car.  You slid the shades away from your face so you could see him in the dark, studying each movement of his frame as he made his way to your door and pulled it open.

He held out his hand to you, and you slowly took it so he could help you up from the leather seat of the car.  He walked hand in hand with you toward the edge of the bluff.  When he stopped, you finally let your eyes leave his face to look down at the city lights.  The stars shinned brightly above in the black sky; the moon barely a sliver to the left of the scene before you.

“I came here when I couldn’t see a way out of my nightmares.  I looked out at the city below and realized why I kept fighting.  It wasn’t for all of the people down there.  It was for you, and Sam, and Cas, and everyone else I have in my life that I consider family.”  He began.  You turned to see that he was facing straight ahead, but his eyes were centered on the ground at his feet. 

“I know this day has been hard for you.”  He continued, looking up into your eyes for the first time since the two of you had left the diner.  “I can’t take those nightmares away, no matter how desperately I want to.”

Now it was your turn to break away from his gaze.  Your eyes immediately hit the ground, trying to hold back tears you didn’t even realize you still had.  You had been convinced that you had shed every one that could possibly be behind your lids in the last 12 months, and yet more appeared every time you turned around.

“Dean…”  You whispered, your voice a little horse from the lack of use.

“You don’t have to say anything.”  He said, placing his hand on your cheek to turn your face back toward him.  He allowed his hands to wipe away the tears that had escaped their prison.

You felt a release as soon as his arms enveloped you and you gripped his shirt tightly in your fist.  You had tried to hide the tears for so long, always making sure that you didn’t let go until you were alone in your room.  Now, standing here with Dean, you had opened the door and you couldn’t slam it shut again.

Dean held you tightly, grateful you had finally allowed him in.  It broke his heart to see you hurting and to not be able to at least offer you the comfort he knew you needed.  After a moment you took a ragged breath and pulled back from him.  Although he allowed your movement, he rested his hands on your shoulders until he was sure you were okay to stand on your own.

“I’ll be in the car if you need me.  Just take your time.”  He added, stepping back.  He brushed your forehead with his lips before turning and letting you have a moment alone with the world you were certain had betrayed you long before that night.

You screamed, you cried, you ranted; lashing out at the air, the city below, the stars above.  You let out 365 days worth of anger and hurt until you were spent.  You hit your knees, every muscle in your body was shaking from the overwhelming feeling that you had crossed a bridge. 

After a few moments, you stood and walked back toward the impala.  Dean stepped out of the car and stood patiently when he saw you approaching.  You stopped for a moment and looked at him, suddenly seeing the last 12 months in a different light.

It had been Dean that made sure you ate in the weeks that followed.  He had been the one to try and make you laugh, to never get upset when you snapped at him and Sam, to always remember to leave your favorite chocolate on the nightstand when you had a bad day.  When you couldn’t sleep, Dean had stayed up with you, watching movies, playing poker, or going for a drive.  He always knew just what you needed, even when you didn’t have a clue…and tonight was no different.

For the first time in a year, you felt something you thought had been lost forever.  Your feet moved again, taking you toward him instead of the passenger side door.  Dean looked confused, but didn’t move from where he stood. 

“I love you.”  You said to him, your voice strong and certain.  Dean let out a small breath, a smile on his face.  You reached up and put your arms around his neck, pulling him down so his lips could meet yours. 

Your kiss was desperate, wanting to drown yourself in the taste of him. It was the first thing that had brought you joy since you lost everything you ever loved. 

“I want you.”  You whispered against his lips.  You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and for a moment you were afraid that Dean would feel it too.  Those fears were washed away when he kissed you deeper, parting your lips with his tongue and maneuvering your body so it was flush with his.  At that moment, when you felt his desire mirror your own, you allowed yourself to get lost in him.

You heard the blood rushing through your veins, the pounding of your heartbeat playing a steady rhythm in your ears.  The warmth of his body took away the chill of the cold February night.  The familiar smell of whiskey and leather filled you up inside as you slid into the back seat with him.  Being with him felt like home, but like no home you had ever known before.  It reminded you that you had a new family now, and a new life.  For the first time, that knowledge left you exhilarated instead of devastated. 

“Y/N…” Dean murmured your name, but you placed a finger against his lips before he could say another word.

“You don’t have to say anything.”  You mimicked his words from earlier. 

He smiled as he kissed your finger tenderly.  He had been attracted to you from the first time he saw you, and as the months went on he feel more and more in love with you.  He hadn’t said anything before because he knew you were hurting, struggling with your own demons.  Until you beat them, he knew you wouldn’t be ready to hear those affections from him. 

You returned the smile as you traced your hand along his jaw. You moved your hand around to run your fingers through his hair.  You gently pulled him down over you stopping when your lips were next to his ear.

“Just take you time.”  You whispered.

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[illuminating-dragons]

Nesting (7/?): Hey Sister

Summary:  Destiel's having a baby! (No mpreg, promise) Ben wants to be happy. He really, really does.

Read it on AO3

           When Dad called him in to the library, Ben was sure he was in trouble.

           It wouldn’t be because of his not-so-great math test—Dad understood about that. But if Balthazar had told him about the books he was reading, and the nightmares he was having because of them…

           But Dad was smiling and holding hands with Cas, so it couldn’t be that bad.

           “Hey buddy.” Dad gestured for Ben to come over, and he sat next to Dad. “We’ve got some exciting news.”

           “What’s up?” Ben asked.

           Dad squeezed Cas’ hand. “We’re having a baby.”

           Ben stared at them. “Can angels—”

           “No!” Cas said quickly. “At least, not in male bodies. Neither of us our pregnant, Ben.”

           “Oh, you’re adopting?”

           “Not exactly,” Dad explained. “Your Uncle Gabriel’s been very kind and agreed to help create a child for us, one that has parts of Cas and parts of me. It’s a soul that…”

           “One that suffered in life,” Cas supplied. “They requested a second chance.”

           “Do you know who it was?” Ben asked, intrigued.

           “No, and we won’t. My Father has made sure of that.”

           “Okay. That’s…that’s cool, I guess.”  

           “Cool? That’s all you got to say about a new brother or sister?” Dad demanded.

           Ben brightened. “They’ll be my brother or sister?”

           “Of course, you’re my kid, aren’t you?”

           “Yeah, but we don’t have the same mom. I guess they’re half, but—”

           “Ben,” Cas interrupted him. “Do you consider your Uncle Adam only your half-uncle? Or any of my siblings less your family?”

           “No.” Ben fidgeted. “I just meant you could call the baby yours, but it doesn’t have to be mine.”

           Dad seemed to understand what he was trying to say, and he tugged him under his arm. “You’ll be a big brother in nine months if you want,” he told Ben gently. “You’ll be this baby’s family. Okay?”

           “Okay.” Ben swallowed hard. “That is awesome. Will you teach me, Dad?”

           Dad pressed a kiss to his head. “I’ll teach you everything I know.”

           The next few months went smoothly. Dad and Cas started planning out how to take care of a baby and help run the Men of Letters at the same time. It was Uncle Sam that told them not to be idiots and take time off so that they could both be there for the baby.

           (When Ben was born, his mom had to put him in daycare after he was three months old. That was as long as she could ask her parents to watch him.)

           Everyone in the Bunker helped make the baby’s room. Cas painted some Enochian symbols over the crib. When Ben asked him what they meant, he explained that it was a lullaby. “Our child is not a Nephilim precisely,” Cas told him, “but this is an important song. I want my child to remember that they come from Heaven.”

           (When Ben was five, he was given a worksheet with ‘Draw Your Family’ on it. He drew a man in a car far away from him and mom. He didn’t even know if his father drove a car. Maybe he drove a motorcycle.)

           Ben started asking Mom if he could stay home on his weekends with Dad. “I have too much homework,” in September. “My friend’s having a birthday party,” in October.

           He never said “I feel like I’m just in the way.” Never mentioned out loud that he felt like everyone was excited about this baby except for him.

           When he did go to the Bunker (and he still wanted to go, because he loved Dad and Cas and the rest of their family), he kept reading the same books he’d started. They were terrifying, and if Aunt Charlie or Uncle Sam or Grampy had noticed what he was reading they would have probably burned the books for being inaccurate and overly horrific. But Ben was in the library by himself a lot of the time, and no one noticed.

           The breaking point came about four months in. Dad and Cas were talking about names for the baby.

           “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Meg asked.

           “Does that matter?”

           “There are names that are considered more ‘boy’ names than ‘girl’ names,” Hannah said wisely.

           Cas hid a smile. “We know, Hani. And of course our child could be born transgender, which we won’t know yet.”

           Gabriel nodded. “I offered to tell them the sex for a starting point, but they said no.”

           “We want it to be a surprise.” Dad looked at a list in front of him. “Why don’t we start with the boy names? I think that might take longer.”

           “Well, your son’s already got my name,” Uncle Adam joked. Ben looked up, his head feeling heavy. “What?” he asked.

           “My middle name’s Benjamin,” Uncle Adam explained.

           “Now you know it was for me, idiot,” Uncle Benny argued. “Makes way more sense that way.”

           Dad groaned. “This joke has never been funny. Literally ever.”

           No, it really wasn’t. Because Dad hadn’t had anything to do with Ben’s name. He didn’t even know it when Ben was born.

           Ben waited for the conversation to shift back to other names and slipped quietly out of the room. He laid down on his bed, trying to calm down.

           Don’t be jealous, he told himself firmly. They’re not doing it to insult you, or forget you. Don’t be dumb…

           He still didn’t feel like going out and joining the rest, even though it was Linda’s turn to do the cooking.

           Ben rolled over on his side. Maybe he’d read more of the scary books…but reaching for them was too tiring, and before he realized it he was asleep.

           He woke with a scream to someone shaking him.

           “Ben! C’mon kiddo, wake up!”

           Ben’s eyes flew open and he looked into his dad’s worried face. The monsters had felt so real…

           “Ben? Buddy, you okay?”

           “Yeah,” Ben said hoarsely, but it wasn’t true, and Dad knew it. He pulled Ben close and for a second Ben let himself lean against him, let Dad rub his back.

           “What’s going on, buddy?” Dad whispered.

           Ben tried to pull away, and Dad let him go after a second. “It’s nothing. I just had a nightmare.”

           “Do you want to talk about it?”

           Normally Ben would want that. He could talk to Dad, and Dad could tell him what parts were possible and which parts weren’t, and promise that he would never let any of it become real anyways because he loved Ben and he was here and would take care of him.

           Ben shook his head. “I’m okay. You need to rest.”

           Dad raised his eyebrows. “It’s ten o’clock, Ben. What do I need to rest for?”

           “The baby.”

           “Ben, the baby’s not coming for months.”

           “Yeah, but you need to start getting used to sleeping when you can,” Ben explained. “You’ll need to sleep well, and focus on you and Cas so your relationship doesn’t fall apart, and I’m fine and I’m old enough to deal with things by myself—”

           “Ben, stop!” Dad took him by his shoulders. “Son, what are you talking about?”

           Ben tried to talk, but he was shaking too badly. Dad hugged him tight again, and this time Ben couldn’t stop himself from crying.

           “Oh Ben,” Dad whispered. He started to rock back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”

           “It’s not okay,” Ben tried to say, but it came out in a garbled sob.

           Dad kissed the top of his head. “Ben, sweetheart, I didn’t realize you were having so much trouble with this. I’m sorry.”

           “Don’t w-worry about me.”

           “Of course I’m going to worry about you. It’s my job; I’m your Dad.”

           “You weren’t always.”

           Dad didn’t let go, but he stopped rocking.

           “And I know Mom didn’t tell you,” Ben said quickly. “But with this baby—it feels like you want to be a real dad, and have a real family. And I’m just a reminder that you weren’t. I don’t want to make you feel bad, and I don’t want to be in the way.”

           Dad didn’t say a word at first. He just hugged Ben so tight he could hardly breathe.

           “You are my son,” he promised finally. “My real son, and I love you so much it scares me some times. I never thought I could love someone so completely. I loved you before Cas, you know that? I met you first. And even then, when I didn’t know you were mine, I loved you. I was so proud of you.”

           Ben pressed his face into Dad’s shoulder.

           “I do wish I’d known about you,” Dad continued. “I wish I’d been in a place where your Mom would have trusted me. Where I would have been able to be in your life, and had the emotional maturity to do that. But that didn’t happen, and I’m just grateful that I have gotten to be in your life since. That you love me. That means everything to me, Ben.”

           “And yes, I’m having a baby with Cas. But I’m not doing it because I feel guilty about you. Cas wanted to have a child together because he loves you too, and wanted to have another child. You’re not in the way at all, buddy. And I wish that I could have given you what I will give this baby. But after the kind of life I’ve had…I want to be a good father for all my children. I have different chances with you and the baby, but I will take advantage of every last one, and if that means I go between playing video games with you and bottle feeding Little Bit, I will. Okay?”

           Ben cuddled closer, and Dad pulled him onto his lap. “I love you, Ben,” he repeated. “And I will always love you.”

           “Love you too,” Ben whispered.

           They sat there for a while.

           “Ben, what was your nightmare about?”

           Ben blushed, grateful that there wasn’t much light coming from the hall. “I…it was just a bad dream.”

           “Ben…”

           “I might have been reading some books before bed.”

           Without letting go of Ben, Dad leaned over and switched the light on. The book was sitting on Ben’s night table; he’d forgotten to hide it.

           “Ben!” Dean picked the book up. “Ben, this is one of the Renwick books!”

           “Yeah. I’m sorry!”

           “Ben, these aren’t accurate at all. I thought Sam got rid of them!”

           Ben brightened. “So…so witches can’t put marks on you for werewolves to find you?”

           “No!” Dad shook his head. “Ben, how many have you read?”

           “Maybe…maybe eight or ten?”

           Dad groaned.

           “Am I grounded?”

           “I think you’ve been punished enough,” Dad said, glaring darkly at the book. He switched the light back off, and Ben’s grip tightened around him.

           Dad rubbed his back. “Do you want to come lie down with me and Cas?”

           “I’m twelve, Dad.”

           “I know that.”

           “Um…yes please?”

           Dad picked him up and Ben clung to him. Cas was reading when they came in, a worried look in his eyes. Once Dad laid Ben down next to him, he passed Ben a plate with a sandwich and two cookies.                  

          “Do you want milk or water?”

          “Milk please,” Ben said, feeling unaccountably shy.

          Cas snapped and passed Ben the conjured glass. Ben ate quietly as Dad lay back, humming softly. When he finished, Cas took the plate from him.

          “Thanks Cas,” he said. Then—“you know you’re my dad too, right?”

          Cas smiled gently, and hugged Ben. “I do,” he promised, “and you are the son of my heart. That will never change.” He switched off the light and lay down.

          Ben lay between his dads. The room was dark, and for a second he felt a stab of fear. What if the books were real…

          Dad put an arm around him. “We’re right here, buddy. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

           Ben smiled. “Dad? Cas?”

           “Yes, Ben?”

           “I’m excited for the baby again.”

           “I am delighted,” Cas said. “Perhaps you would do us a favour and choose the name? We can’t settle on one.”

           “Sure!”

           And five months later, when the little baby girl was born, Ben was the third person to hold her, and he named her Mary Jo (he’d thought about Xena, but Cas said no).

           “Hi MJ,” he whispered (apparently nicknames were an important part of being a big brother). “I’m Ben, your big brother. I know you’re awesome already, and I love you. I won’t always be around, but I promise I’ll be there whenever you need me. And I’ll let you watch Predator. But you’re not reading the bad books.”