#WHAT THE FUCK DID DEAN JUST ASK CAS TO GET OUT OF HIS CAR??? DEAN HES DRUNK

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Older (Dean Winchester)

Description: Y/N has a crush on Dean but they have a 20 year age gap. How does Dean react when she finally tells him?

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,743k

Y/N watched Dean as he washed Baby. His big muscular arms on display with the tight white shirt that had dirt on it. Baby was soapy and wet as Dean wiped her down. Y/N was trying not to drool as he went in circular motions cleaning the car. She was too into the scene in front of her; she didn’t notice Sam coming up to her side. “Stare any longer he might just notice your obvious crush on him.” He said to me, making her snap out of it. She turned towards him and rolled her eyes. He chuckled and handed her a beer. She took it from him and took a drink. “Ya think maybe he’s too old for you.” He said. Y/N pushed him and they both laughed. She sighed and looked at Dean again. He was pouring water on the soapy car. She sighed and got up  from her spot and walked into the house. She needed a cold shower to erase the dirty thoughts from her mind. 

It was days later that she’d be staring at the older man as he made breakfast. They had just come back from a hunt and Y/N was hungry so Dean offered to cook for her. Sam was getting some sleep but the other two were wide awake. “How do you like your eggs?” He asked her as he got them out of the fridge. “Over easy.” She said and he cracked the two eggs on the pan. She watched as he put the bread in the toaster. “You really didn’t have to make me anything.” She said as Dean put the eggs on the plate. “But I wanted to. You deserve it putting up with us.” She laughed as he set the eggs and toast in front of her. She thanked him. “Well I like putting up with you guys.” She said. He got his plate and sat across from her. “What, you got a crush on one of us?” He joked but she didn’t laugh. “Nah we’re probably too old for you anyway.” He said. She stared at him without saying anything. She shook her head and went back to eating her food. “Yeah totally.” She said. 

She woke up 7 hours later in bed and yawned. She remembered the cringey things Dean asked her this morning and she sighed. She thought for a second when he asked her that she was caught. Luckily Dean was oblivious.She got out of bed and stretched. She walked out of her room and noticed Dean at the table on the computer. “Where’s Sam?” She asked. “Grocery Shopping.” He said and nodded and sat down across from him. He looked up from the computer at her. “So back to early convo you probably like Jack don’t you?” He asked. She looked at him confused. “No, not the antichrist.” She laughed. “Do you even like anybody?” He asked. “Dean, can we not talk about this?” She asked not wanting to expose herself. “Yeah sure.” He said and went back to research. The silence now,awkward and unwanted. 

Why was Dean so curious about who she had feelings for or if she did? She honestly thought that Dean was too old for her but that’s how she liked it. They were eating dinner and she had a glass of wine. Dean sat across from her and Sam sat next to Dean. Jack and Cas sat next to her. Everyone was in a conversation except her. She never talked much while eating. She sometimes butted in with Jack and Cas but other than that kept quiet. Dean noticed her silence and wondered if it was about his question earlier. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. After dinner was over she helped him clean up.

She didn’t say anything to him so he figured he thought correct. “I’m sorry about the question earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He said. She looked at him. “You didn’t.” She said and poured herself some more wine. “If I did I would completely understand-” “Dean.” She interrupted him. He looked over at her and she was holding the wine and her upper body on the table a little. Her boobs are perfectly on display. “What are you-” She took a sip of wine and smirked. “I told myself I’d never fuck anyone old enough to be my dad.” She states. He stares at her in shock. She stood up and walked closer to him. “That was until I met you.” She said seductively. “Wait you like me?” He asked her confused but kinda turned on.

She nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And before you give me any of that age bullshit. I’m 22 i’m an adult.” He stared at her as her hands ran over his chest. “You have no idea what you do to me Dean.” She says and her hands lower themselves to the bottom of his shirt. She tugs on it and he looks down seeing what she was doing. “Y/N are you sure?” He asked her. She looked up at him with lustful eyes. “Are you sure Dean? Think you can handle me, old man?” He chuckled and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.She laughed as he took her to his room. He threw her on the bed and smirked. “I’m 42 sweetheart not 72.” He said and took off his shirt revealing his amazing body. She was almost drooling at the sight. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down in a kiss. He moved his lips against hers as his hands traveled her body. He lifts her tank top up a bit and she pulls away from the kiss. She sits up and removes it showing her white bra. He looks down at her boobs and cups them. “Wow you’re so sexy.” He says and moves his hands to her back. He unclips the bra and she lets it fall freeing her boobs. He smirks at the sight and leans down to put one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasps his name and her hands go to his head as he licks and sucks. Her hands moved to his jeans and she cupped his growing erection. He moans against her nipple. “Dean take these off.” She breathes out. He pulls away from her nipple and gets up to remove his jeans. He pulls them down along with his boxers. She moves herself to the end of the bed and pulls him closer to her. “I didn’t know if I want you in my mouth or inside of me.” She says and he chuckles. Her eyes staring at his long hard cock. “Both would be ideal but right now I really need to be inside of you.” He tells her and pushes her back on the bed.

She smiles as he pulls down her panties. He gets back on her and kisses her again. She runs her hands up and down his muscular back. He pulls away and sighs into her mouth as he lines himself up with her entrance. He pushes in slowly and she gives a sharp gasp. “Are you okay?” He asked. She nods. He pushes in deeper and her noises fill his ear. She hadn’t had sex with many people and certainly not with a guy this big before. Once he was in her all the way he let her adjust to him. They stare at each other as she adjusts to him. He got lost in her eyes not believing that this was happening right now. She pulled him out of his thoughts when she thrusted up. She moaned as the pain was gone and she was full of pleasure. He started moving his hips and she let out little moans. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened. He didn’t let his eyes close as he watched her facial expressions. He groaned as her hips started matching his. She grabs his neck and moans his name. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathes out and she opens her eyes to look at him. “You feel so good inside of me.” She whimpers. He leans down and starts kissing her neck. She gasped and pulled him closer if that was possible. “Dean, go faster.” She begged and he moved as fast as he could.His hips pounding into her hard and fast making the bed screech. His lips left marks on her neck. Neither of them cared at the moment.

He pulled out of her some and angled his hips. He slammed back in her and hit her g spot making her scream. He covered her mouth with his hand. “Gotta remember sweetheart we aren’t the only ones here.” He groans in her ear. She tried to keep her sounds to a minimum but with him pounding at her g spot that didn’t work. “Dean, you feel too good.” She mumbles in his hand. He nods. “Fuck I know baby. You feel amazing.” He moans. She felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. He was twitching inside of her signaling that he was close too. “Baby I'm close.” She moaned and he groaned out a me too. She gasped out feeling him fill her up which triggered her orgasm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her orgasm hit her. She bit her lip trying to hold back the loud noises that threatened to spill from her. Her hips moved up as she rode out her high. Dean watched her and almost became hard again. Her hips slowed and she opened her eyes seeing Dean already looking at her. “That was hot.” He smirked. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah well thanks to you.” She smirked back. He pulled out of her causing her to moan.

He got up and went to the bathroom and got a wet towel. He came back and cleaned her and him up. “Such a gentleman.” She teased. He laughed and threw the towel in the laundry bin. He collapsed next to her and yawned. “Tired old man?” He turned to look at her. “Baby I could go another 5 rounds.” He said. She turned towards him and smirked. “Prove it.” She said and he smirked. Sam couldn’t sleep that night but Dean and Y/N weren’t complaining.

[apocalypseornaw]

Look after You

Dean Winchester x Gender neutral Reader

You're hurt in a car accident and Dean takes care of you.

@hpxmcusworld I hope you enjoy

Dean was pacing the floor of the library, staring at his phone and silently begging it to ring. You should've been back by now. Why hadn't he gone with you?

"Still no word?” Sam asked, walking in behind him and he nearly growled “No. Man, can you track their phone,please?” Sam felt his heart drop at Dean's voice. He knew his brother loved you, he had for years and the thought of losing you terrified him. If after all the loss something happened to you Sam wasn't sure Dean would survive it.

Right as Sam got his laptop on, Dean's phone started blaring. Dean answered it and a voice he didn't recognize hit his ears “Is this Mister Dean Campbell?” He swallowed hard before saying “Yes” “We have your spouse here. They were brought in from an automobile accident”

“WHAT?” Dean felt his heart threaten to stop at that moment. His ears started ringing and his knees weakened. Sam moved to his side and took the phone, clicking the speaker on “Hello?” “Mister Campbell?” The doctor asked and Sam replied “This is his brother” “Oh well I was telling your brother we have his spouse in the emergency department. They were injured in an automobile accident. A drunk driver ran a stop sign and hit their car. They're stable but currently in for a CT scan. We need their emergency contact here as soon as possible” “We'll get there as soon as we can” 

Your head was throbbing, the bright fluorescent lights were killing you. What was worse was according to the doctors you'd lost a few weeks. The last thing you remembered was Christmas and apparently it was St Patrick's Day weekend.

You were terrified and alone. The doctor had told you he called Dean but he hadn't arrived yet. You knew he'd be to your side soon though.

—-----------

The moment you were wheeled out of the room for the scan however you heard Dean's voice loud and clear “Where are they at? You called me and told me they're hurt, then I got here and what? You fucking lost them?”

You laughed lightly and the nurse smiled “That him?” You grinned “Yes ma'am” already feeling better knowing Dean was here. He'd take care of you.

You sat on your bed with Dean's arm wrapped protectively around you. He hadn't moved since he got to your side. As always Sam was being the more diplomatic one, handling paperwork and talking to doctors. ���I should go find the asshole that hit you and rip his lungs out” he grumbled and you smiled, curling into his side “They said I'll be ok Dean. It's just a concussion and should heal on its own” he nodded “Doesn't mean I'm not still pissed someone hurt you. I'm pissed at them and at myself. I never should've let you go alone”

You sighed knowing this was an argument you'd lose. Of course Dean was blaming himself instead of the person who chose to drink way too much and get behind the wheel. 

After about an hour Sam came in pushing a wheelchair “Good news. Your awesome brother in law talked the doctor into letting you go home. We have a list of aftercare precautions but given our history with injuries I'm sure we can handle it” you cut your eyes at Dean who sighed “about time. I want to get you back to the bunker”

“I can walk!” You squealed when Dean picked you up out of the backseat and headed out of the garage and towards your shared room. He nodded “I know but I'm not taking no chances of hurting you further. Cas will be here in two days to heal you. Until then you're not getting out of my sight”

Once you made it to the room he sat you gently down on the bed then dug in the dresser pulling out one of his own shirts and a pair of his boxers. At your look he rolled his eyes “Don't act like you don't enjoy wearing my clothes more than yours anyways” He did have a point.

He treated you like you were made of glass as he stripped you of the scrubs the hospital had given you and dressed you in his clothes. Once he was sure you were comfortable he kicked off his boots and crawled into bed next to you, pulling you over on his chest “You need anything baby?”

You shook your head “I remember Christmas. Can you catch me up?” He smiled before catching your lips in a gentle kiss “Of course”

—---------------

Before you fell asleep Dean sat multiple alarms to wake you up at the needed intervals. Once you were out he laid there, watching your chest rise and fall gently. He needed the assurance you were ok. 

He loved you more than he'd ever dreamt of loving someone. When he met you he was knocked off his feet by how much he wanted you the moment he laid eyes on you but then he got to know you. Every conversation, every hunt, every late night talk he fell deeper and deeper.

The day he realized he loved you wasn't a big scene or anything memorable really. You were sitting in Bobby's kitchen, helping him make salt rounds and humming under your breath. When he'd walked into the room you met his eyes and smiled and he'd felt like he'd been hit by a truck when the realization hit him that you owned his heart and he had no intention of ever asking for it back.

If something had happened to you…no he wouldn't go down that rabbit hole. You were here, alive and he'd make sure from now on he was always at your side. Logically he knew he couldn't have stopped a wreck but his heart wasn't hearing that. You were his and he would be damned before anything ever hurt you again.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: provocative dancing, slight Sam x Reader, jealous Dean

Chapter Word Count: 4211

—-MDNI—-

A/N: aaaaahhhhhhhh sorry this one took ages. I suddenly had a bunch of personal things going on so I struggled to find the time. Also this chapter is wild, I’m so sorry for the complete train wreck that it is. I just keep writing without questioning it too much. But yeah same as always pls let me know of any errors as I am the only one who proof reads this shit.

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 8 - Part 1

Morning soon rolled around; my alarm waking me from my deep dreamless sleep, eyes wearily blinking open as I stared blankly at the old ceiling. Turning off the repetitive beeping, I flung back the covers and climbed out of bed, pacing to the bathroom to freshen up before heading down to breakfast. I was in desperate need of a laundry day as I was down to my last couple of clean items: a cropped black tank top that said ‘Singers Salvage Yard’ across the front in old cracked and over washed lettering, paired with a short denim skirt with frayed edges. It was an a-line fit a long time ago, but as I got older and my figure changed it just got tighter and shorter. I don’t even know why I still have the thing. Paired with my boots and some comfy socks poking over the top of them, I looked like I should be getting paid to wash cars. I grimaced, knowing full well that Dean was going to make a comment.

Dean.

My mind raced back to last night with his parted lips and black lustful eyes - I couldn’t tell if he wanted to push me against a wall or be at my mercy, it was hard to say. Both sounded spectacular.

I strode into the central study room where the boys did all their research, looking for my flannel when I noticed a figure out of the corner of my eye. Instinct took over and I grabbed the nearest item to me - a lamp from the middle of the table - and held it up like a bat, ready to swing. The man flinched but held up his hands, an apologetic expression on his ruggedly handsome face.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” his voice was monotone despite his peaceful words.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“CAS!” Suddenly Deans voice rang through the open room and we both spun to see him standing where I had just walked in, Sam following behind.

“Dean I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle her, I wasn’t expecting you to have visitors,” this Cas guy spoke, his tone forever unchanging.

“This is (Y/n), Bobby’s niece. She’s staying with us for a while to help with research,” he explained, before turning to me and giving me a stern look, holding his hand out.

“(Y/n) give me the lamp.”

I did as he asked, placing the cool metal into his palm as he returned it to the table. We shared a look for a second and I was unsure of the meaning behind it - was he mad about me almost bludgeoning his friend? Was it because I was going to use a lamp of all things? Or was it about last night, and the fact I left him hanging? Who knows, but I’m sure I’ll hear about it later. Dean was about to turn away when the monotone voice of Cas spoke up.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), please forgive me for startling you. Although…” he paused, looking me up and down and then almost knowingly between myself and Dean, “I have personally been caught off guard here as well - I was unaware that Dean was involved with someone.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked up at Cas, getting ready to snatch that lamp back. I saw Dean pinch the bridge of his nose and mutter an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“You’re sexual endeavours with Dean,” Cas looked at me like I was the one missing something here. Clearly I am. Cas continued, “you’ve been intimate, have you not? This means that you are a couple from what I’ve learned.” Suddenly his eyes went wide and he looked straight at Dean.

“Or is this a pizza man situation?”

“CAS STOP TALKING,” Dean bellowed, embarrassment creeping across his face. I’m assuming he’s not used to that emotion as he was getting very frustrated. I couldn’t help but stand there in disbelief.

“How the actual FUCK do you know about me and Dean after saying that you weren’t aware of me even being here before you arrived?”

“He can smell it,” Dean said quietly, arms now crossed over his chest.

“What?”

“He can smell… me… on you,” as the words left his lips, his eyes locked with mine for a split second sending a jolt down my spine and hair prickling on my skin. I tore my eyes away from him and looked back at Cas.

“So wait, this weirdo can smell that I slept in one of Deans T-shirts last night?”

“You slept in one of his shirts?” Sam asked, piping up for the first time since this conversation started. Dean grinned like the cat that got the cream, embarrassment dissipating for a second.

“Yeah, she did.”

“Hmmm,” Cas mumbled, “No it’s not just that… It’s stronger, like there is part of Dean in her somehow. Or at least there was; not so much anymore.”

My eyes went as wide as the moon and my cheeks felt like they’d been set on fire.

“OH MY GOD,” I hid my face in my hands, wanting the ground to swallow me up. Whilst I tried to hide my entire existence, Dean cackled, leaving Sam confused.

“I don’t get it, what’s going on?” He asked, looking between all three of us. I couldn’t say a word through the white hot embarrassment, which left Dean to explain. He turned and looked Sam dead in the eye.

“You know how much I love pie, Sam,” he paused to see if Sam was catching on, which he wasn’t so Dean continued. “All sorts of pie. Like, uh, apple pie, cherry pie… cream pie…” Sam’s eyes shot open as wide as they could and he almost went as red as me.

“Nope!” He declared, promptly spinning on his heel and leaving. Cas looked confused.

“I smell no pie here.”

“Never mind, Cas,” Dean patted him on the shoulder before urging him to catch up with Sam who I’m assuming is in the kitchen by now. When it was just Dean and I left I peered at him through my fingers, my face still burning up.

“Dean what the fuck just happened?!”

He tried to suppress his laughter, explaining that Cas was in fact ‘Castiel’ and an Angel of the Lord, which explained his rigid behaviour and a weirdly strong set of senses.

“Why didn’t you butt in and explain who he was before everything got so embarrassing!”

“To be honest it was all pretty hilarious.”

“No it wasn’t! That was NOT an enjoyable moment!”

“Ok I’m sorry,” Dean paused, looking down at me with softer eyes, a slight smile still on his lips. He stepped closer and I pushed on his chest.

“You better be! You owe me big time for that one Winchester.”

He grinned as the furious redness on my face simmered down, just leaving a pink glow on my cheeks.

“Ok ok! Look let's just go and get some breakfast and put this behind us,” he put his hand on the small of my back, urging me towards the kitchen. I hummed, walking with him. There were a few moments of silence as we made our way down before he suddenly spoke up again.

“Did you know that he once smelt a bladder infection on a dead guy?”

*

Breakfast was uneventful. I was unable to make eye contact with Castiel, and it seemed that Sam was unable to make eye contact with me. Dean however was completely unphased. Once we were all finished and I’d cleared everything away I made my way to my room, grabbed my dirty clothes and then headed to the laundry room - today was going to be a practical one as I officially had nothing else to wear. Upon arriving I couldn’t help but grimace; a mountain of mens clothes covered in mud, blood and black goop sat in the middle of the floor by the washers.

“Gross…” I winced, the smell of dirt and iron filling my nose as I got closer and poked the pile with a pipe I found off to the side. I half expected the mass of clothes to sprout legs and walk off. The boys could probably find lore on the thing with how long its been sitting here. I huffed, scooping my hair into a high ponytail before shoving a bunch of my washing in a machine and turning it on before returning for face the Winchesters laundry. I can’t leave it here, that goes against everything clean and hygienic that I stand for. I could burn it? They would definitely complain about having to replace all the plaid shirts. Should I sort it or just hope for the best? Do I check the pockets? Knowing all the crap they carry around, I should definitely check the pockets before a load of bullets or a hex bag goes through one of the machines. I set to work, sorting out colours, blacks and whites - unable to differentiate between lights and darks at times - and search every pocket as I go. The amount of women’s phone numbers I find on napkins and receipts is ridiculous. I can’t help but feel a little deflated, knowing I’m probably just a name on Deans list. I put them to the side in a pile, keeping them separate from the numbers from Sam’s pockets. I load up another machine and turn it on, picking up the stacks of numbers and leaving the room.

I find the boys sitting in their usual places at the tables, surrounded by piles of books and files. Castiel was nowhere to be seen. I walk up to them and slide the collection of phone numbers over to them.

“I thought you might want to keep these,” I said, not understanding the tone in my own voice. They both took a few seconds to realise what it was that I was handing them and they both responded in an abashed manner, shooting each other a knowing look before staring at the accumulation of digits, not once making eye contact with me. Sam nodded a quick ‘thank you’ before I turned to leave, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him crumple them up and throw them away in a carrier bag on the floor next to him. At the same time, I caught Dean shoving his collection into his jacket pocket, which was hung on the back of his chair. I hastened my actions and turned away quicker, not wanting to have the knowledge that he was keeping them. A pang of something shot through my chest, and I couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, sadness, rage or self pity. Whatever it was, I needed to get the fuck away from Dean.

*

A few hours passed and I was still sorting laundry. My clothes were officially clean and dry and away in my room, however the task at hand was now the clothes belonging to the Winchester boys. I was a few minutes away from the final load of washing being dry, and I’d managed to arrange the clothing into piles of ‘definitely Sam’ and ‘definitely Dean’, with a ‘really not sure’ pile in the middle. The jeans were easy enough to tell apart and due to Deans T-shirt I wore to bed last night, I now knew that he wore a slightly larger shirt size than his younger brother. I guess he had bigger shoulders, despite Sam being taller. My train of thought snapped as I suddenly heard a door slam upstairs and a female voice call out. I recognised the voice immediately. I stopped everything I was doing and headed upstairs, my feet carrying me with purpose as I reached the study room; Sam and Dean also emerging from another corridor.

“Charlie!” Dean beamed at her, going to give her a hug before I caught up to them and shoved him out the way.

“Don’t you EVER abandon me again like that,” I said, embracing her tight. “I’m fucking annoyed at you…. But I’m glad you’re here. These guys are like wild animals.” She patted my hair softly before I stepped back and she had an apologetic look on her face.

“I knooowwww I’m sorry! But you were in such a slump I really had to do something. Plus these guys really needed whipping into shape,” she spoke the second half of her sentence quieter and we both peered at the boys, fully aware that they could hear every word we were saying.

“Anyway!” She exclaimed, moving away and plopping her backpack onto the nearest table, “I think I have a case for you guys…” her voice was excited but the way her expression changed when she looked from the boys to me was slightly concerning. Sam seemed to pick up on this too.

“That’s great, but what’s the catch?” He asked. Charlie bit her lip and looked between the boys and me again.

“It’s in a strip club and we will need (Y/n) as bait.”

“What?!” Both me and Sam spoke up at the same time, and all that Dean could muster was a huge grin.

“I’m gonna need more details than that Charlie,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Right, yes, I probably should have started with the other details. Anyway, I’m pretty sure this club is run by a bunch of vamps, using girls as bait to lure in unsuspecting men to feed on in the private rooms.” The brothers nodded, like they’d seen this sort of thing before. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’ve had a hunch about this place for a while and did some digging, and it turns out that just last night they advertised a new position available and they want someone that looks just like (Y/n). This is a perfect way to take them down from the inside.” Charlie finished speaking and scanned our faces for any sort of response. I shrugged.

“Sure I’m in.”

“No way, we aren’t putting you in the line of fire like that,” Sam turned to me, a look of worry already smothering his features.

“I agree with Sam, this will be more dangerous than the last case. We’ll find another way to take them down,” Dean said, before he added in an almost snide tone “plus I bet you can’t even lap dance. How would you ever fit in?”

I scoffed.

“Fuck you, I can lap dance just fine.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I don’t need to prove shit to you.”

“Guys,” Sam held his hands up, “not right now.”

I turned back to Charlie.

“Look I’m in, can you make sure that no one else gets hired?” She grins, opening her backpack and pulling out her tablet.

“Absolutely!”

———————————————————————

Taglist: @justjensenandhisalteregos @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lanassmarty @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hell0-ki11y111 @hobby27 @lilcuutiee @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @viridiesa @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @ilikw @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @vsplanet @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @raven-red10 @feyresqueen @lori69 @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @qinnroki @winchestergirl82 @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @lazygrungekid

Some of the tags haven’t worked so please check your settings if your name is highlighted!

——————————————————————

Up Next:

Chapter 8 part 2

[pinknatural]

run away with me

1. you & me

After, they sit in the car, Dean’s chest still rising and falling with breathless laughter, the corners of Cas’ mouth still lifted in humor. Cas didn’t laugh, but it’s the most humor Dean’s seen in the angel, the lightest and most happy. He wraps his hands around the steering wheel and doesn’t start the car, just looks sideways at Cas.

Cas is looking straight ahead, now, shoulders stiffening and face drawing closed. Dean remembers, all of a sudden, what tomorrow brings, and his own humor drains away. Right. Last night on earth. 

Dean starts the car. 

He’s not sure where he’s going, what he’s gonna do. For a minute, they drive in silence, and Dean can’t stand it, but the idea of music seems rude somehow. He tries to think of something to say, and he keeps driving. 

He makes random turns ‘till he’s away from the city, driving a line into the dark of the night. No cars, no streetlights. It looks like the road drives straight into forever.

“What if we kept driving?” Dean asks. 

“What?”

“You know,” Dean says. He gestures at the road before them, swallowed up into darkness. “We don’t stop. Just you ‘n’ me. Leave Raphael in the dust.”

Cas doesn’t respond, and Dean looks away from the wheel. Cas’ face is shut, brows furrowed, little line between them. 

“We cannot,” Cas says. “Lucifer has risen. We can’t run from him. Even if we did leave, he would still find us. There is no escape.”

Dean knows he’s right, but it still stings. Angels don’t feel things like that, anyway, he tells himself, pulling Baby into a rough u-turn in the middle of the empty road. He drives back into town, away from freedom and back to certain death.

2. can’t wait

Dean re-wraps Cas’ hand in the hotel. There’s only one bed, but Dean’s trying not to think about it. It’s the only thing he can think about. 

He pulls the bandage too tight, and Cas hisses. Dean rubs a thumb over his wrist in apology. 

It’s a queen sized bed. Neither of them are small dudes. If they laid down, side-by-side, their elbows would probably brush. If they fall asleep back-to-back, Dean will probably roll over and latch onto Cas like some kind of kid seeking out their teddy bear. The thought makes Dean sick. 

He releases Cas’ hand and backs away. 

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” he lies, and he flees into the other room. Splashes water on his face, runs wet fingers through his hair. Get a hold of yourself, he chides, glaring at his green eyes in the mirror. God, how pathetic is he?

He flushes the toilet and washes his hands again before he goes back out, and he finds Cas curled up on top of the covers, knees drawn toward his chest, looking small and so goddamned miserable that Dean feels his heart break in his chest. Jesus.

He crosses the room and gets on the bed. Takes off his socks and chucks them in the direction of his duffel, then half-turns toward Cas.

For a moment, he isn’t sure what to say. 

“What if,” he says eventually, afraid to say it. Cas doesn’t react. Dean keeps talking. “What if we just said fuck it and ran off together. Leave all this angel shit behind. Take up a residency in Canada or something.”

Dean’s joking, obviously, but he definitely isn’t. If Cas says yes…

“Angels are still in Canada,” Cas says, voice hard. It feels kind of like a stab to the heart. Cas turns, rolling over and glaring at Dean. “And Sam isn’t in Canada.”

“True,” Dean says. He swallows and looks away. “Yeah, you’re right. Stupid idea.”

Cas rolls back over. It takes a long, long time for Dean to fall asleep.

3. some regrets

“You okay?” Dean asks. Cas looks at him, startled. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Dean lets himself into Cas’ room, closing the door behind him. Cas is just standing in there, looking at the bed. Would it kill him to sit down, once in a while?

“Um, because your dickbag ex-boss almost killed you today?” 

“He didn’t almost kill me,” Cas says. “He almost killed you.” 

“And you’re cool with that?” Dean asks. Human weakness, Ishim said. God, Dean doesn’t want Cas to be tied to him like that. Doesn’t want Cas’ weakness to be a scumbag like Dean. But at the same time, if Cas has to have a weakness, and it has to be human….well, selfishly, Dean doesn’t really want it to be Sam. 

“No,” Cas says. He doesn’t look at Dean. “I should go.”

“What?”

“The more I dawdle, the farther Kelly gets from my reach. I need to find her.”

“You’re leaving?” 

“Yes, I just said that,” Cas says. He finally turns to look at Dean, rolling his blue eyes skyward. 

And yeah, Dean’s not brain-dead. He understands that Kelly escaping is a bad thing, that they need to get a handle on this Rosemary’s Baby stuff, but--the words cosmic consequences keep echoing in Dean’s head. What if Cas leaves and never comes back? And Dean would never know if Cas finally wised up and bailed on the tangled, fucked-up Winchester mess, or if he died. And Dean can’t keep an eye on him if he’s always galavanting off who-fucking-knows-where.

“Don’t,” Dean says, mouth moving without permission. 

“Don’t what?” Cas asks, narrowing his eyes. 

Don’t go, Dean almost says. “I’m tired, man,” he says instead. “All of this bullshit is so tiring. What if instead of going after Kelly and Satan Jr, we just went and laid on a beach somewhere, huh? Just let someone else handle it. I hear Hawaii is nice this time of year.”

Cas’ whole face shifts, softens. He steps closer to Dean and lifts up his hand, cupping Dean’s cheek. Dean doesn’t lean into it, no matter what anyone says later.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas says. His voice is feather-soft and warm, no longer annoyed. Dean isn’t sure what he said to make Cas’ voice go like that, but it’d be nice if he did so he could do it again, and again, and drape himself in that soft Oh Dean forever. “I would like nothing more.”

“Let’s go, then,” Dean says. “You and me.”

Cas smiles, soft. “You’re afraid of airplanes,” he says kindly, and now that softness has turned sad, too, and Dean kind of wants to cry.

“I can handle it,” he says, pleads. Come on, Cas.

“I know,” Cas says. He smiles again, and lifts his hand from Dean’s cheek. That was a mistake, Dean thinks, ‘cause that hand was the only thing keeping Dean together. Human weakness, cosmic consequences. 

Cas leaves the room. By the time Dean recovers enough to follow him out, Cas is gone, and that angel-sized hole he always leaves in the bunker seems even bigger than the Chrysler Building.

4. trap

Dean and Cas are sitting nearly on top of each other, tucked on the staircase in the map room that leads out to the front door. Somewhere in the Bunker, Sam is pretending that he’s not upset Eileen left, and Dean’s just so fucking glad to have Cas back he can hardly breathe. Cas is here and in the Bunker and they aren’t mad at each other anymore, even if Chuck is still at large and everything is shitty but it’s fine ‘cause Cas is here. And he said he heard Dean and he’s still here, so he knows what Dean prayed, in his head because he was too scared to say it out loud, and he hasn’t run away and isn’t that what Dean wanted most?

“I’m not sure what we’re going to do about Chuck now,” Cas says. Dean is so glad to hear his voice that he almost forgets to focus on what Cas is saying.

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean says. Cas turns to meet his eye. Cas is a step lower than Dean, his back pressed against Dean’s leg. He’s not really sure why they’re even on the stairs, except that Cas sat there and Dean sat with him. 

“We usually do,” Cas says, smiling. Dean wants to beam like a giddy kid on Christmas. “Although sometimes we mess up worse than before.”

“Nah, we’ve got this,” Dean says. “Team Free Will. And if we don’t, well, Purgatory’s a nice vacay spot, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, man, you and me can take monsterland easy,” Dean says. “Third time’s a charm, maybe if we go back we can make a nice house there.”

“I thought I understood you, but you love to prove me wrong,” Cas says. Dean shrugs. 

“I’m just saying,” he says. He doesn’t say that Purgatory seems kind of romantic, now. Isn’t that the first place they hugged? “If the thing with Chuck goes sideways, we can make like Dante and move in.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but in the fond way that’s like why do I like this guy, again? “Yes, I suppose if everything goes horribly wrong we can move to Purgatory together.”

“Cool, we’ll call that Plan Z,” Dean says. Cas pats his boot in a sort of condescending way, and says “Sure, Dean,” but Dean’s too busy riding high on Cas’ agreement to get offended.

5. carry on

After it all, Dean clutches onto Cas’ goo-soaked trenchcoat and gasps into his mouth; presses kisses along his jaw and refuses to let go. Cas’ arms around Dean’s back do not unlock, and he presses them close, closer, as if trying to meld them into one. 

“I love you, I love you,” Dean cries. 

“I love you so much,” Cas says. “More than words can ever say.”

“Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“Stay with me.”

“Forever.”

“Run away with me.”

“What?” Cas’ eyes are blue, blue. Dean’s fingers won’t uncurl from where they’re digging into Cas’ trenchcoat. 

“You and me, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Come on, baby. Let’s get outta here.”

Here is the Bunker, here is Cas’ stained trenchcoat, here is surrounded by painful memories. But somewhere else--somewhere else, anywhere else…

“Alright,” Cas says. Finally out of excuses. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t ask questions. Dean doesn’t have answers. Their fingers stay locked together on the bench between them, and they drive, and drive, and drive away.

[youhaveaguineapigwhere]

He Can't Get This

Chapter 1

♡Set in Supernatural S14 Ep14. I recommend rewatching the ep or the crime scene bit ;)♡

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

"That baby cop, he liked you." 

Dean Winchester slammed the door of the impala closed and reached to start her, his jaw tense and lips slightly drawn as he turned the key. 

Castiel tilted his head towards the hunter from his passenger seat, a little lost. "I'm sorry, what?" He shifted a little, adjusting his coat as Dean put the car in reverse, voice blunt but unassuming.

They'd just figured out that the Gorgon couldn't sense Castiel and Jack with his eyeball premonitions, for lack of a better description (most likely because they weren't human) So Cas and Jack would have to lead the attack when they tracked down the gorgon again. Whatever Dean had said made no sense to the angel. 

Cas' voice was that consistent gruff lull and his hair was stuck up at a little part in the back. Dean practiced restraint for the instinct to reach out and smooth it. 

"Mr. Twunk over there," He retorted, throwing a half hazard gesture towards the crime scene. Cas squinted through the windshield and saw a vaguely familiar blond head of hair popping out of a patrol car. The young officer they had spoken to earlier.

"Probably fresh out of academy too." Dean added, his tone short and irritated as he intrigued Cas' full attention, who furrowed his brows and leaned up in his seat.

"Oh, come on," Dean shot Cas a look, "he totally creamed his pants when you pulled the whole 'deep commanding voice thing', he went stiff as a board, don't tell me you didn't notice." He let a soft huff out of the corner of his mouth, his pink lips upturned in a small smirk, though still betrayed by his wound-tight words as he glanced from the road to Castiel. 

"I was more focused on the demi god and his victims, Dean." Castiel explained slowly. 

"Yeah, sure, not the young guy you got all hot and bothered." 

Cas squinted at Dean suspiciously, "Is this merely about your dislike for police officers, Dean? Or is it something else?" He questioned.

Dean forced out a laugh, "It's not anything Cas, just an observation." 

"That seems... untrue."

"Yeah." Dean chided, "And what are you gonna do about it?" 

Castiel's patience had run thin. "Dean..." he tested firmly. 

A blush crept up behind Dean's collar and he gripped onto baby's steering wheel, adjusting his seating, "I just didn't like the way he looked at you, okay, sue me." He threw his hands up for a breif moment before returning them to the sleek black wheel.

Cas titled his head, the line of his jaw catching a fragment of the afternoon sun as they passed by storefronts with big glass windows. "How did he look at me?" 

"Like he wanted you to bend him over and fuck him into next week." 

"Like how you look at me." 

Cas' voice was wet gravel. 

Dean halted on the brakes, jolting them forward, scarlet blush deepening, "What, no! You.. you know that's not- and before you say a word about what we did that one time in lebanon that was different okay! I don't gawk at you all the time Cas."  

"Different how?" Cas challenged. 

The trafic light turned green and a car behind them honked impatiently, "Okay, geez," Dean muttered as they started moving. "Because... I was super horny and hadn't seen you in what, four months?" he continued, "And you're my best friend dude and you were looking particularly moody that day and yeah, maybe I'm just jealous and a little bitch." He sighed, defeated. 

Cas let out a low chuckle. 

"Oh shut up you smug fuck," Dean reached out and shoved a hand over Castiels face, his own now a particular shade of pink. 

Cas cleared his throat and picked up a level tone as Dean's hand fell away, "You know you can always ask to..."

"Oh yeah, I know," Dean interjected, "Just check in between hunts and saving the world and having Micheal locked up in my head and raising our kid to be like 'oh Cas,' I miss the feel of my skin against yours and how you make me act like a dumb teenager and that night in the cowboy hotel was the best of my life and I can't get you off my mind every time you leave. I got Sammy breathing down my neck constantly cause he knows and just wants to rub it in my face but I won't say anything because I refuse to talk about feelings with a sasquatch or like you know ever and I-." Dean's words started out sarcastic and ended with a desperate pout and Cas gave him a kind look, reaching to rest his hand gingerly on Dean’s thigh as the hunter let out a heavy exhale.  

Cas knew life was never easy, for any of them, but Dean was the most important thing to him, no matter how closed off or stubborn he could be. 

"So, you got jealous when a man looked at me with sexual intentions?"

"Cas, you're making me sound like a little bitch again." Dean huffed, the peachy blush crowding against his freckles a complete contrast with his deep manly tone and set, sloping jawline. 

"My apologies, Dean." Cas stated, his eyes soft, "I wanted to know what was going on, and that only works when you tell me." 

"I know, I know." Dean exhaled, "You know I'm not good at this stuff Cas, but I have missed you.. All this running around.. 'drives me crazy sometimes." Dean nodded his head down and looked up at the road through his eyelashes.

Cas silently noticed how after all these years Dean still seemed to physically shrink in on himself a little, anytime he showed vulnerability. Or rather, he wondered with disdain, who exactly had taught him this trait. The only time he seemed to release himself from those instincts is when he let Castiel have him in bed. And oh, how beautiful Dean was then. Bare and trembling under his hands. Never trying to be smaller.

"I've missed you too, Dean." He comforted, knowing no words could come to match how he felt being so often pulled from the man. He looked out the passenger window, watching the landscape slide by, "You know-" he thought aloud, an idea still churning in his mind, "Rowena still needs time to prepare the tracking spell.." He lowered his voice and gave Dean's thigh a gentle squeeze. 

Dean swallowed and tensed his hands around the steering wheel, seeming much more determined to get to where they were going. 

[naughtystiel]

a little something I wrote for @macy2me 's birthday! <3

The watch on Dean’s wrist told him that his date was already fifteen minutes late. God, it had taken him so long to actually grow a pair and finally ask the guy out. But now, as he leaned on the hood of his Chevy, he wondered if maybe he got stood up. It couldn’t be, could it? He was good looking and his self esteem was pretty high, but in that moment he started to doubt himself big time. Perhaps, because for once he actually cared, he really really wanted to go on a date with the man who apparently didn’t give a fuck about being late.

Of course, he could walk up to the door and knock like a normal person would do, but no. His stubborn ass stayed on the freshly polished surface of the car. When he looked up, dark clouds started rolling over the horizon like fog on the water. Soon he would have to get back in the car so he wouldn't get soaked, but he just wanted to greet his date first without having to awkwardly climb out of his Baby.

Just as he was seriously contemplating walking up the stairs and pounding his fist on the door, begging not to be ditched, somebody appeared in front of him. His breath hitched when the man trapped him between the V of his legs, basically pinning his ass against the car.

“Hello, Dean.” that whisky soaked voice called, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Fuck, he looked good. The leather jacket was probably quite warm for the summer’s evening, but it did wonders to his shoulders. Combined with thick stubble and curls that kept being tousled by the breeze, the combo made Dean’s knees weak.

“You’re late, Cas.” He managed to breathe out, not sure what to do with his hands that just itched to launch themselves on the guy’s body.

“Sorry about that.” A small smile appeared on his face and he reached inside his jacket to pull something out, “I was getting those for you.”

When Dean glanced at what Cas was holding, it was a tiny bouquet made out of wildflowers, mainly poppies and cornflowers that were the same shade of blue like his eyes. Well, he definitely didn’t expect that. In fact, he had never gotten any flowers from anybody. Any kind of annoyance or self doubt he had felt a minute ago vanished like morning frost.

Carefully, Cas put the flowers in Dean’s front pocket and for a second it felt as if they were about to go to prom together. Then, Cas’ hands rested on his chest and smoothed down the moss green plaid he was wearing. His fingers might have brushed his nipples a bit and Dean tried his best not to squirm. How was he supposed to survive the date if technically it hadn’t even properly started yet?

But no, Cas wasn’t finished. He pulled out a flower that was stuck behind his own ear and started tracing Dean’s cheek with it. The petals vere delicate and almost tickled his skin, but combined with Cas’ heavy gaze? Christ, he swallowed hard and his lips parted, ready to say something, anything, but for once his usually cocky self was suddenly lost for words.

Apparently satisfied with his doing, Cas put the flower behind Dean’s ear before his hand slid down to his neck. “Gorgeous.” He stated like it was a well known fact and Dean could feel his cheeks heat up from the compliment. There was something so mesmerising about how confidently Cas moved and Dean wanted to be molded with those skilled fingers until he was just a daft, sedated puddle.

Something wet and heavy made an impact with the car’s hood and they both looked down to see the first drop. Then, another. There were a few seconds gaps in between them until they picked up and suddenly it started to pour down. Dean’s first instinct was to jump into the car, but when he tried to move, Cas’ strong thighs kept him in place. When he gave Cas a puzzled look, the man only grinned that almost childlike smile before pulling Dean in for a kiss.

For a split second his whole body tensed up, but then he relaxed, deciding that he should just go with it. Soaked clothes be damned, he didn’t care. The contrast between the cold wet drops that were running down their noses and Cas’ soft warm lips as they kissed was more thrilling than he could have anticipated. As it got more heated, he could feel Cas’ growing erection rubbing against his own. Fuck, how was he supposed to last longer than a few minutes when Cas was kissing him like a starving man?

Finally, he remembered that his hands were still uselessly resting on the car, so instead he gripped Cas’ hips and pulled him even closer, the friction bringing them both a wave of pleasure judging by the guy’s low moan. Cas’ hands were suddenly underneath Dean’s plaid that was clinging to his body like an octopus, but Cas fought hard, wrestling with the cloth until his cold fingers made contact with Dean’s nipples that were as hard as his cock.

It was almost embarrassing when he whimpered after Cas trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. Regretfully, he had to pull away to catch his breath. They were panting heavily, their foreheads rested against each other.

Suddenly, there was a huge blinding flash that made Cas’ eyes look like electricity got trapped in them. A low rumble followed shortly after, almost making their bodies tremble.

“Fuck, a thunderstorm?” Dean said loudly, but it still sounded like a bare whisper compared to the force of rain hitting everything around them.

Cas looked up, exposing his neck, drops were running down the tanned skin like a waterfall. It took all Dean’s willpower not to launch himself and stick to it like a leech. As if the man could read his mind, he licked his lips and gave him such a lustful look that made Dean’s cock ache with want.

“I had fun, but I think it’s time we take this inside.” He said, pulling Dean towards the door. When they got inside, they shook their bodies like dogs that tried to dry themselves off. God, it was so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh. Cas joined him and together they tried to wrestle out of their soaked clothes. Before Cas dragged him into a bath filled with hot water and bubbles, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The single cornflower was still somehow stuck behind his ear and maybe it was all the giddiness and endorphins, but yeah. In that moment, he felt gorgeous.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Suptober day 4 - Commencement

Castiel completes his training with Rowena, and it all goes very fast after that!

A new part to my 2019 series Rowena's Shop

Suptober prompt: Nimbus Flufftober Prompt: Cinderella Moment Fictober Prompt: “Do you even know what this means?” Inktober Prompt: Dodge

(Read on AO3)

“Oh, well done, Castiel! Very well done, indeed! You've gotten it exactly right! Look!!”

Comfy and dozing in his overstuffed armchair, Dean can hear Rowena's words of effusive affirmation drifting in through the curtained doorway to the back of the store. The cooing, approving tone of her voice is one she's never used with him, of course, but Cas has been drawing it out of her more and more often lately as he's neared the completion of his studies. From the sound of it, he's just ticked another box on the list of spells he needs to master before he “graduates,” whatever that word means for a literal sorcerer's apprentice in the Year of our Lord 2023.

He's starting to doze off again when his boyfriend comes bursting through the doorway, a wide, gummy grin on his handsome face.

“Did you hear?!? I did it!!” he trumpets.

Dean stands to give him a hug. “I heard, honeybee! Nice work!! Does that mean you guys are done for the day, or are you taking a break? Maybe we could go grab a late lunch...?”

Cas gives him a firm, full-bodied squeeze, then pulls away, shaking his head. “No, beloved, I did it. That was the last one. I'm finished. Do you even know what this means?”

Dean watches, mouth agape, as he murmurs a few sibilant words and flicks a finger. The cozy glow of the shop's chandelier dims as a nimbus of luminescent power gathers around Cas's head. The blue highlights in his hair coil and eddy, then the color surges, flowing down the man's body and draping it in a floor-length brocade cloak that perfectly matches his gorgeous eyes. It's a Cinderella Moment if Dean's ever seen one.

“Holy shit,” he mutters.

“Indeed,” Rowena intones sarcastically as she walks into the room. “Eloquent as ever, I see.”

“Hey, screw you, Broom Hilda,” Dean snipes back. “Forgive me for being in awe of my boyfriend the fucking wizard.” He rolls his eyes at her and turns back to Cas. “So, what happens now? Can we celebrate? Go out for a nice dinner? Or should we just skip to dessert?” It's a cheesy line, but God help him, that little display of power got him so freaking turned on. If Rowena wasn't here he would 100% be on his knees right now.

Cas seems to be on the same wavelength, because he's got a dirty smirk on his face. He opens his mouth to respond, but Rowena throws up a waggling finger.

“Ah ah ah, there'll be plenty of time for that sort of business later. Right now I need your help with the last o'my cases.” She gestures behind her, at a teetering pile of steamer chests that definitely was not there a minute ago.

And the same-wavelength thing must still be in effect, because the two of them reply in unison, “Wait, what?”

“I've been stuck here long enough, boys. Now that you're ready, Castiel, I'll be goin' walkabout for a bit.” She points again at the trunks, an imperious quirk to her brow, and the two men scramble to fill their arms.

Rowena herself picks up the tiniest, daintiest little handbag and leads them, shuffling under the immense weight of her luggage, out the side door to the alley. Her car, like her a sporty little compact number of indeterminate age, make, and origin, seems much too small to hold so many massive cases. But of course, like magic, it all fits neatly into the boot, with ample room to spare.

Dean slams the lid down, then rounds on her. “So, what, Cas finished his training five minutes ago and you're getting outta Dodge? How long are you gonna be gone? What's gonna happen to the store? Wh–”

Whatever other question he'd been about to ask dies on his tongue when she snaps her fingers. (He's honestly not sure whether she did a silencing spell on him or he's just terrified of her.)

“It's tradition, you utter gowk. I've nothing more to teach our Castiel, and the shop practically runs itself, has done for centuries. And, much as I loathe to admit it, you've become quite an exemplary assistant in all the years you've been lollygaggin' around here waiting for your fella to do his lessons. The pair of ya'll do fine. And I'll be back around, in a few months or years or... Well, eventually. Cheerybye, boys!”

And she's gone, in a puff of sweet-smelling exhaust.

Dean and Cas stare at each other for a full minute, slack-jawed and stunned. Finally, Dean gathers himself enough to break the silence.

“Honeybee,” he says hoarsely. “What the fuck.”

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 14: All for you

One of these days, Dean is going to break the Good Guy Code and straight-up murder the Angel.

“You can’t kill him,” Sam says wearily as he takes pieces of Dean’s body armor to pack away in its special case.

“Just watch me.”

Sam rolls his eyes, frowning as Dean hands him the chestplate. “Is this a bullet hole?”

“It’s a dent from a bullet.”

“You said it didn’t get you!”

“I said I wasn’t hurt, which is true.” Dean sits on the couch in Sam’s home office to wrestle off his combat boots. He straightens up just to get hit with bitchface #5.

“Vigilantism has no room for semantics,” Sam says, also very bitchily.

Dean grimaces. “Are we done here?”

Sam waves him off, and Dean stalks up to his room. 

The old Winchester mansion shows its age in the creaky stairs, dusty corners, and windows permanently fogged over with grime. 

To the rest of the world, the Winchester heirs gave up their fortune to various charities (not that their millions-bordering-on-a-billion did enough). Sam, the youngest, went to medical school to become a stand up member of society. The oldest, though, he squandered the rest they had left on extravagant vacations and lavish parties. 

Dean flops down on his bed with a groan. Only three years as a vigilante, and he feels thirty years older. Sammy’s going to have to replace both his knees soon. And maybe a hip. 

Maybe Sammy should just take all his bones out at this point and replace them with titanium. Dean would finally be able to keep up with the Angel, at least.

He rolls over, staring up at the mahogany ceiling of his bedroom. 

The Angel blew into Lawrence a year ago, packed full of super strength and badass feathered wings, making cryptic remarks about divine plans for humanity and shit. Within a month, he got a fanclub/religious cult to follow him around and give the guy a complex the size of Niagara Falls. 

Dean simply added him to his villain-of-the-week list – until the Angel blinded fifteen fishermen in the harbor. He said it was the work of “demons”, but all Dean knew was that the crew went out to sea with all their eyeballs intact and came back with 20/infinity vision.

Six months ago, the psycho escalated to setting an entire neighborhood on fire to kill an apparent “witch”.

Dean stopped him in time, but it was a close fucking call.

This year, though, the Angel abruptly changed his tune. Dean used to catch him kidnapping random civilians and the occasional assault. Now, he’s far more likely to find him rescuing cats from trees and Timmy from down the well. It makes Dean’s blood boil. 

What the hell is he up to?

The question has been circling Dean’s brain for far too long.

* * *

Dean ducks out of the gala, checking his phone for police alerts. 

“Mr. Winchester!”

Dean swiftly pockets his phone and turns, plastering a bland smile on his face before he sees the newcomer. “Oh, it’s you,” he says sourly.

Cas hurries up the marble stairs, dodging other departing patrons, sticking out like a sore thumb in his boxy trench coat and off-the-rack suit among all the tuxedos and designer gowns. “Do you have a comment about tonight’s fundraiser?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Can’t you make one up?”

Cas bristles, all offended like he gets every time Dean tells him to get lost or pass off someone else’s words as Dean’s. “That would violate my journalistic integrity.” 

“Dude, you cover human interest puff pieces,” Dean says scornfully. “Nobody cares.”

“I care,” Cas says, stung.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “For fifteen grand a plate, the shrimp was dry.” He raises an eyebrow. “Happy?”

Cas makes a face like Dean personally force fed him a dozen dry-ass shrimp. “That’s hardly a –”

“That’s all you’re getting,” Dean says sternly. 

Cas – Castiel – Carpenter has been a pain in his ass since he caught up with Dean outside Dick Roman’s last New Years Eve party. He hounded Dean for a quote, following him all the way from Roman’s lobby to the street, waiting with Dean for his car to arrive. He kept asking about Roman’s plans to scrap affordable housing developments near the river in favor of luxury condos.

Dean, with a few too many drinks in his stomach, told him Roman could learn a thing or two from the Scooby Gang. Real estate scams never seem to end well in Carver City. 

The Winchesters, of course, already had a plan for Roman. Top lawyers, paid through a shell company owned by a shell company based in the Caymans, were already compiling environmental impact reports, and Dean had plans to visit Roman’s penthouse and perhaps dangle him off it, if he didn’t see things Dean's way.

Cas, the sly son of a bitch, hadn’t even printed a word of their discussion, and Dean only found out Cas covered the goddamn gossip pages the next weekend as he scanned the paper for Cas’s byline at two in the morning after a late night run-in with the Angel.

“Mr. Winchester –”

“I’m a busy man,” Dean says coldly as he shoulders past Cas. “If you need to talk to me, you know my PR number.” 

Cas falls back, scowling fiercely. “I know you have something to say, Dean!” he calls to his back. 

“Get your clickbait somewhere else!”

Dean has places to be and ass to kick, no matter how many times Cas bats those baby blues his way.

* * *

Dean groans, since when did Crowley have the kind of funds to hire these goons? The last he heard, Crowley's mayoral campaign was hemorrhaging money, and Crowley was spending every cent on voter suppression and scare tactics to get his base to the voting booths.

Dean staggers into the storage unit warehouse, clutching a hand to his side where a lucky knife got between the plates of his body armor. He stays alert – a dozen of Crowley’s henchmen tried to take him out and failed, but that doesn’t mean another dozen aren’t waiting in the shadows.

Charlie’s algorithm traced vast amounts of Crowley’s remaining cash to holding five storage units, paying top dollar for quality and security.

Whatever the hell Crowley is keeping here, it’s valuable.

And valuable to Crowley means indispensable to anyone else.

Dean slumps towards the first locker, breathing heavily. His head pounds, and the overhead lights flare as he glances around, trying to get his bearings.

He mentally adds a concussion to his tally of injuries. Sam’s going to have his work cut out for him tonight, if Dean gets home at all.

He reaches into his toolbelt, and his fingers scramble for his set of lockpicks for too long. How the hell he’ll be able to manipulate the delicate tools – well, that’s a bridge to cross when the lock itself stops swaying in front of his eyes.

The blow from behind hits him out of nowhere.

Dean falls forward with a grunt, his ears ringing.

“The vigilante himself,” an unfamiliar voice sneers. “What an honor.”

The next hit cracks the side of Dean’s reinforced cowl, and his ears ring with the force of it. He scrabbles back to his feet, widening his stance on an instinct honed from years of practice. He’s still as wobbly as a newborn kitten, but at least he doesn’t look it.

The man wears a uniform of the warehouse staff, but there’s nothing minimum wage security guard about the way he fights hand-to-hand.

A flurry of blows rain down on Dean, his head, his neck, his chest. The body armor in his suit can only absorb so much of the impact, and Dean’s losing ground, quickly, backed up against a concrete wall.

He has one taser left, though. At his next opening, he dodges a right hook and jams the metal disk against the goon’s neck. 

He spasms with a crackle of electricity, and falls to the floor to reveal –

“Fuck,” Dean swears loudly, swinging his fists up to protect his face, not that they’ll do much against superstrength. 

But it takes his sluggish brain a soupy moment to realize the Angel's hands aren't raised in fists gunning for his face.

The Angel’s palms reach up to cup his cheeks, and Dean winces, squeezing his eyes shut against the harsh light that always pours out of the Angel’s eye sockets, obscuring his entire face.

“You’re injured,” the Angel murmurs in his otherworldly voice that makes Dean’s chest vibrate with an uncomfortable resonance.

“Nothin’ slips by you, does it?” Dean forces out because, even when he has nothing left, he still has his pride.

The Angel pulls back Dean's cowl, and Dean tries to push the Angel off him, but he might as well be trying to wrestle with a concrete wall. The Angel intones, “This might feel strange.”

“No…” Dean protests, and, god, if these are his last words, they sound pathetic.

“Shh, Dean,” the Angel says, and he doesn’t sound at all surprised by the sight of Dean’s face. Two fingers press against his bare forehead, and Dean jerks away instinctively, but can’t move a hair in the Angel’s firm grip.

A cool, almost rain-like sensation trickles out from the point of contact.

Dean opens his eyes.

Is the light pouring out from the Angel dimming?

Dean’s definitely seeing more clearly now, and the pounding in his head has disappeared. With mounting confusion, he watches as the Angel’s high beam eyes flicker like a bad television signal.

His face – Dean only sees a flash or two, but he would swear – 

The Angel stumbles back a step, and Dean straightens, inhaling a painless lungful of air. “What the hell just happened?” he demands.

The Angel shakes his head, and his wings flicker next. They pop back into existence in the space of a blink. Like a lamp on it’s last legs, the beams of light emitting from his eyes give a few weak flares before dying out completely.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes.

Cas sags against the opposite wall, his wings disappearing for good with a silent breath of air. Whatever he'd done to Dean had drained him.

“You –”

Cas stares up at him. “Me,” he agrees quietly.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Dean demands. “You’re – you’re –” He can’t say it.

Cas pushes himself to his feet, his face pallid and eyes weary. “I’m an angel of the lord.”

Dean can’t help his loud snort. “You’re still sticking with that?”

“It’s the truth.”

Dean lays a hand on his utility belt, eyeing Cas warily. He might look as threatening as a belly-up hedgehog, but experience has taught Dean that some opponents are never more dangerous than when they’re cornered.

“If you’re a real angel,” Dean says stiffly, “why are you here? Why now?”

“I was sent here to start the apocalypse,” Cas says.

Dean narrows his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke.”

Dean steps closer, scanning Cas for any sign of an impending fight. “You wanna give me a reason not to end you right here and now?” 

But Cas stays right where he is. “Those were my orders. But when I arrived on Earth, I had my doubts.”

“It was you – the blind fishermen,” Dean says coldly, “that incident on Halloween.”

Cas nods miserably. “Mistakes, all of them.”

“I couldn’t figure out what was up with you,” Dean admits. “You went from nabbing Patty Hearst in December to landing broken planes in the river in January.”

Cas tilts his head. “Because of you.”

Dean can’t have heard that right. But as Dean lets the silence drag on, Cas doesn’t take it back or explain. Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You showed me humanity is worth saving,” Cas says, his voice almost painfully sincere. “So I disobeyed my orders. I turned my back on Heaven. I followed in your footsteps.” He meets Dean’s stunned gaze squarely. “I did it all for you.”

“I – what?”

“You care so much for this city, for your people,” Cas continues, and Dean, torn between telling him to keep going or shut the hell up, stays silent. Cas goes on, “You regularly put yourself in harm’s way to protect them, usually from themselves. You donate enormous sums of money and manipulate an extremely complicated political machine to make sure they have safe water to drink and places to rest.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, muttering, “Somebody’s gotta.” He jerks his head up. “Hold on, you knew it was me? The whole time?”

“Why do you think I was so hellbent on talking to you?” Cas asks dryly, the faintest of blushes dusting his cheeks.

“And I always thought it was because of my perky nipples,” Dean says distractedly. All those times Cas hollered questions about the latest government developments; where his next grant was going; who he was backing in the mayoral race. That was the Angel.

“I’m, uh, sure they’re very perky,” Cas says awkwardly.

Dean narrows his eyes. “How’d you find out?”

Cas cocks his head, his blue eyes intense as they study Dean’s face. “Your soul. It’s unlike any other I’ve encountered in the way it shines.”

Dean swallows, embarrassed of all things. “You can see souls?”

Cas nods. “Yours as well as the five people behind these storage locker doors.”

Dean freezes. “What the fuck?” He stares, horrified at the closest one, his hand already pulling out his set of lockpicks. “You’re serious?” At Cas’s confused nod, Dean swears colorfully. “And you kept talkin’ like we’re on a Sunday drive?”

As Dean ducks down to get to work on the first lock, Cas says matter-of-factly, “None of Crowley’s victims are near death. They’ve all been fed and watered recently, and eleven more minutes won’t have a great effect on their physical or mental health.”

“Alright, Patrick Bateman,” Dean says, but the accusation lacks any heat, “Superhero Rule Number One: you always get the damsels out of distress first.”

“I understand.”

Dean glances up at him as the lock clicks open. “After this, you and me, we’re gonna have a long talk.” He huffs a laugh as he pulls his cowl back up. “You want to know what I think about this city? I’ll give you enough quotes to fill a bible.”

“I might hold you to that,” Cas murmurs as Dean heaves the metal door open.

Read the sequel here!

[salchat]

Secret Flowers - Chapter 30

"Son of a shit," said Cas, which should have been funny, but wasn’t.

"What’s up? You look like you lost a pizza and found a lettuce leaf." Dean smiled and shook the slanket, but his angel’s face was taut, with a pale line of tension around his lips. "Come and sit down. Cas?”

"No." The ex-angel’s gaze darted around the room - at the fire, at the rain-beaten windows, at the magazines on the coffee table and finally at Dean. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He licked his trembling lips. Were those tears gathering? What the hell? Dean's twitchy instincts hadn't been lying after all.

He threw off the slanket, hurried around the couch and gripped Cas’s biceps, locking his steady gaze with his angel's wide, panicked eyes. "Just breathe, Cas. Nice and slow. Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it together. In and out - okay?"

Cas nodded jerkily and his shuddering breaths began to synch with Dean's.

"Come and sit. Come on, angel." Dean slid an arm around him and led him to the couch, wrapping all of the slanket around him and rubbing Cas's arms as if he’d been out in the cold.

"Now tell me - what's the matter?"

"I… I think there's something wrong, Dean. Something wrong with my memory."

"Okay." Jesus fucking Christ on a carburettor. This could be serious. Chrysler-building-sized memory stuffed into a human head? Plenty of room for trouble there. "What makes you think that?"

Cas hiccuped and swallowed. "It keeps happening, Dean. Everything’s fine and I'm just," - he waved a hand - "busy doing normal stuff. And then suddenly I can't remember what I was going to do next, or what I was going to get out of the fridge or why I came in here! Things just fall out of my head! All the time!"

"Oh. Well, uh..." Dean scrubbed one hand through his hair. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Cas… honey. But that kinda sounds normal to me."

"Normal? How can that possibly be normal?"

Dean shrugged. "We're human, you know? We get distracted easily - lose focus. Like - you need the three-eighths wrench, but by the time you’ve got out from under the car you’ve started singing along to whatever’s on the radio, then you’re like - what size? And you have to go back under and check. Happens all the time.”

“I don’t know, Dean.”

“Sure you do. Remember the other day, I came in when you were unpacking your hives -”

“You went straight out again.”

“Yeah, because I couldn’t remember why the hell I’d come in.”

“Why had you?”

“I don’t know, angel. I never did remember.”

Cas pulled the slanket tighter around him, staring down at its folds, his eyes wavering to and fro, echoing his back-and-forth thoughts. He looked up. “And that’s normal?”

“Ask anyone. Like I say - it happens all the time.”

“It doesn’t seem very… efficient.”

“It’s not. But that’s humans for you.” Dean pulled Cas close and gave him a squeeze. “Now, how about I go make some coffee and then maybe we can watch a movie?”

Read on AO3

Read on ffn

Warning: This chapter is quite a bit less fluffy than the story has been so far, as Cas deals with some of his traumatic memories. Trigger warnings for the Jewish Holocaust. Chapter 31 will contain comfort though.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Can't Fight This Feeling, Pt. 1

Summary: Dean is in love with the girl who works in the office. The problem is Y/N is already dating someone, and Dean is not her type, right? When Y/N is dumped by Rick the Prick, the feelings she has had for Dean since she started working at Singer’s Auto come back in full force.

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Female Reader (Eventual)

Bingo Square: Mutual Pining

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This is written as a submission for Tell Me A Story Bingo hosted by @supernatural-jackles. The square filled is Mutual Pining. This hasn’t been beta’d. All mistakes are mine!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Dean had to admit he was happy. He loved his job as a mechanic, and the garage he worked at would be his someday. Bobby had already talked to him about buying him out when the old man retired, and he’d agreed to the proposal right away, never doubting it was what he wanted.

He owned a modest two-storey house in a good neighbourhood which he renovated right after moving in. His neighbours were friendly, if a little nosey, and for the most part, he loved attending and hosting the neighbourhood cookouts in the summer months. The only thing missing was someone to share his life with.

He’d had a few relationships in the past, none giving him exactly what he wanted. The closest was Lisa, and he did love her. She didn’t love him, though, and after a while, she realised that she needed more than just a father figure for her son and that Dean deserved better. She broke his heart, making him a little jaded about women for a while.

Dean had gone back to his playboy ways, but it quickly became unsatisfying, and he decided it was time to try dating again. The problem was that he was confident he’d found ‘the one,’ but she was someone else’s girl, and he didn’t want to waste more time with the wrong woman.

Maybe he was just meant to be alone.

His bachelor lifestyle was hitting him even harder recently with his baby brother’s announcement that he and Eileen were getting married. His good buddy, Garth, was also getting married in the summer. Benny and Cas were happy and settled in their relationships. Dean had a feeling that Benny would be asking Donna to move in with him and Cas would be putting a ring on Meg’s finger very soon.

He was glad a customer had dropped off a 1969 Chevrolet Camaro for restoration. It kept him busy and stopped his thoughts from wandering for too long.

“Hey, Dean?” Y/N opened the door that separated reception from the garage floor and shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the equipment.

“S’up, Y/N?” he called back, unable to stop his smile at seeing her for the first time today. He didn’t sleep much last night, so he opened the garage at 6am. He had to admit, it was strange walking through the garage and not seeing her already sitting in her office.

“Jody’s here for her car, but Bobby’s out. Can you take care of the handover?” Y/N threw him her sweetest smile and biggest puppy eyes, and fuck if he wouldn’t have helped her commit mass murder right here at Singer’s Auto if she asked. He knew she had him wrapped around her little finger, but he was hopelessly in love with her and really didn’t care.

“Sure. Gimme a sec?” Dean said, and she grinned happily at him. God, she’s beautiful when she smiles! Dean thought and shook his head, chuckling at his behaviour. He grabbed the rag tucked into his coverall pocket and wiped the grease from his hands. He walked quickly to the break room and washed his hands to remove the stubborn dirt before heading to the back office.

There were two doors in the break room, one coming to and from the garage floor and the other that led to the corridors with the offices, bathrooms and changing rooms. Dean took the one into the corridor and headed to the back office, which belonged to Bobby. 

Bobby’s office held the safe where they locked the vehicle keys at the end of the day or when they were waiting to be collected. Opening the safe and pulling out Jody’s keys, Dean made sure to he locked it and the office behind him and made his way to the reception.

“Sheriff. Good to see you,” Dean greeted. He’d known Jody a long time. She was his mom’s best friend. 

“Dean! Good to see you too,” Jody smiled and pulled the mechanic in for a hug. “You’re looking a little skinny. Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Yeah, you know,” Dean started, rubbing his hand over his neck. “Been working hard. Long hours. You know the drill.”

“Yeah, I can see that beautiful Camaro you’re restoring. Is she keeping you busy?” Jody asked, smiling gently at Y/N, who handed her some paperwork to sign.

“Something like that, yeah.” Dean chuckled.

“Dean Winchester!” Jody scolded. “Do I have to call your mother and tell her you’re not taking care of yourself? Tell me, Y/N… does he ever go home?”

“He was here before me this morning, and I was in at 7:30 to handle an early delivery for Bobby,” Y/N tattled. “You know he never even ate breakfast? I went over to the diner and got him pancakes and bacon. It’s no wonder he’s getting skinny.” 

“Traitor!” Dean playfully said, pointing in her direction. “And here I thought you, of all people, would have my back!”

“And lie to the Sheriff? And your mother?” Y/N huffed in disbelief. “Sorry, Dean! Even I’m not dumb enough to go up against those two!” she giggled at Dean’s look of mock hurt. “You know if it was anybody else, I’d have your back all day, every day, but I will not go up against Jody and Mary!” Y/N playfully stuck her tongue out, showing she was only teasing.

“That’s my girl!” Jody laughed. “Thank you for taking care of him. At least when he’s here,” she smiled softly and squeezed Y/N’s forearm.

“Ah, what are friends for,” Y/N waved her hand, telling them it was nothing.

Friends. There was that word that twisted his gut. He knew he shouldn’t feel what he does for her; she already has a boyfriend, so friends are all they’ll ever be. “Alright, ‘gang up on Dean hour’ is over. What are you still doing here anyway? Thought you had a lunch date with Mr Pretty-Boy-Wannabe-Entrepreneur?”

“Okay, first of all: you gotta damn cheek calling anyone a “pretty boy,” pretty boy! Secondly… cancelled it.” Y/N shrugged and smiled sadly, grabbing the paperwork for the Sheriff’s car to file. “It was nice to see you, Jody!” she turned and returned to her office.

“You too, honey,” Jody raised a hand in farewell, waited until Y/N was safely behind her desk, and lowered her voice. “Any idea what that was about?”

“No clue,” Dean responded with a frown.

“Alright, I gotta get back to it. Thanks for this, Dean,” Jody held her car key up and nodded. “I’ll see you soon. And call your mother!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Dean grinned and raised a hand to wave goodbye. When the door closed, he stood for a minute, trying to decide whether to push Y/N on what was going on with her. She was visibly upset by something, and if his gut was right, it had to do with the douchebag she was dating.

Huffing, Dean headed to her office and leaned against the door frame. The radio played REO Speedwagon’s Can’t Fight This Feeling, and he smiled softly as she hummed along. Not wanting to startle her, he knocked quietly on the door, just loud enough to announce he was there.

The noise coming from the garage floor often masked footsteps on the linoleum. Although it was hilarious when Y/N punched, kicked, or yelled out when she got startled by one of their voices at her door, he was pretty sure she’d punch him in the face if he did that to her now.

Glancing up, Y/N smiled like she always did when she saw him, like she was genuinely happy to see him, like he was the only person she wanted to see. He’d watched her and knew that no one else got those smiles from her, and, man, did that make him feel special.

“Hey. You alright?” Dean asked and frowned deeper when her smile fell, and she nodded her head, quickly lowering it behind the monitor in front of her.

“You sure? Because I can tell you’re upset,” he made no move to enter her office, leaning against the doorframe and giving her space. Dean sighed when he was met with silence. “Y/N/N, sweetheart, we’re friends, right?” he licked his lips and raised his eyebrows at her slight nod. “Then you know you can talk to me. Tell me anything. I just wanna help. See that smile back on your face.”

“Rick broke up with me last night,” Y/N finally spoke after a while. Dean’s eyebrows shot up in shock. Those were words he never thought he’d hear.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. What happened?” Dean finally moved from his perch on the doorframe and took the chair across the desk from hers.

“The new tech company he and his buddies created?” she spoke softly, and Dean nodded. “It’s starting to take off, and he’s been travelling a lot. Going to all these Expos and events, and apparently, I’m holding him back.”

“Y/N,” Dean wanted to go to her, comfort her but held back with every ounce of strength he had.

“Which I guess is guy speak for there’s a lot of beautiful women out there, and having a girlfriend is kinda cramping my style,” she tried to smile. Still, tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes. “But it’s okay. At least he didn’t cheat on me, right?” There was a bitter chuckle that Dean didn’t like the sound of. He’d give anything to take away her pain.

“I always knew Rick the Prick was a dumb douchebag. That asshole wouldn’t see a great thing if it walked in front of him and slapped him in the face. What exactly did they teach him at the fancy private school his daddy sent him to?” Dean fumed. Rick really was a prick. He’d never liked him. He always thought he was above everyone else.

“That he doesn’t need an education. He only needs the unlimited money from the trust fund his daddy set up for him, and everything will fall into his lap?” Y/N responded, and Dean laughed. 

“It’s gonna be fine, sweetheart. There’s someone much better out there for you. I know it,” he smiled. “Now, how ‘bout I take my favourite girl to lunch before I head into the city to pick up some parts? What d’ya say?”

“Sure, thanks, Dean.” Y/N smiled brightly, and Dean leaned forward on the chair and gently grabbed her chin, giving her a charming wink.

“There she is! There’s that smile I love so much! Come on, burgers and milkshakes on me!”

“And pie?” Y/N pulled out the puppy eyes as she stood and rounded her desk, making Dean chuckle.

“Sure,” he said, pulling her into a hug and kissing her hair. “You can have all the pie you want, sweetheart.”

Dean’s smile didn’t fade when he got back to the garage, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his best friend, Benny. He was among the few who knew about Dean’s true feelings for Y/N.

“What’s that smile for Winchester?” Benny grinned as he leaned on the roof of the car Dean was working on.

“You saying I can’t be happy, Lafitte?” Dean sassed him back.

“Course you can. I just haven’t seen you this happy in a long time, brother,” Benny smiled softer now.

“I had a great lunch with great company,” Dean shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“With your girl in the office, huh?” The cheeky grin was back on Benny’s lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Dean protested.

“Yet. I know how you feel about Y/N, Dean. And the guy she’s with? He doesn’t deserve her, and once she realises it, it’ll be over for them.” Benny slapped his friend's shoulder in the way men do to comfort each other.

“It already is, man,” Dean lowered his voice to stop the whole garage from overhearing. “They broke up last night. ‘S why I took her out for lunch. Cheer her up a little.”

“Shit,” Benny lowered his voice, too, glancing around him to make sure they weren’t overheard. “What happened?”

“I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Dean’s response made Benny smile slightly. He was always so protective of her. It was damn adorable.

“Sure, I get that. She’s okay, though, right?” Benny adored Y/N, too, although his adoration was brotherly towards her.

“She will be,” Dean nodded.

“You gonna swoop in and sweep her off her feet?” Benny’s signature cheeky grin was back full force, and Dean rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“No. You know she doesn’t feel that way ‘bout me. Besides, I’m not her type,” Dean defended.

“Sure. Whatever you say, chief. Just don’t write it off yet, alright? ‘S’all I’m trying to say,” Benny gave him a knowing look, and Dean scoffed, unconvinced.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Do you need me to pick anything up from the city? I got parts that need collecting,” Dean’s quick change of subject made Benny chuckle.

“Nah, all good. I was gonna ask if you wanna go for drinks after work on Saturday, though. Start Memorial weekend off right.” Benny said.

“Yeah, sure. Roadhouse?” Dean asked.

“That’s the plan. And Dean? If you want a chance, a real chance with Y/N? Maybe don’t go chasing everything in a skirt. Make her see that you don’t always need to take someone home, that you can be in a relationship and not just be a one-and-done kinda guy,” Benny winked and walked away with a chuckle, leaving Dean wide-eyed with shock.

Lunch had been just what Y/N needed, and she’d done nothing but laugh and smile at Dean and his storytelling and blatant flirting. It reminded her of why she fell for him in the first place.

Dean was always funny and flirty. He knew how to make her laugh, even on her worst days. He treated her with kindness and respect, and she knew he had her back, no questions asked. He’d always been a gentleman with her, often pretending to be her boyfriend when some dick at the bar got too handsy with her or making sure she got home safe, and she loved him for it.

He was just her type too. Handsome, funny, smart, a cocky bastard. But how he acted with her and treated her was the same way he was with every woman he encountered. Except for the ones he wanted to go home with. They got his A-game, so she knew her feelings weren’t reciprocated.

The night Rick came over to her in the bar and attempted to flirt with her, she’d thought he was cute. She could tell he was out of his depth right off the bat, but his eagerness to impress her made her heart melt. When he asked if he could buy her a drink, she said yes.

At the bar, they talked for a while, and when he asked if he could take her on a date, she caught sight of Dean chatting up another beautiful, busty brunette who could be on the cover of magazines and knew for sure she’d never get to be his girl, so she said yes. The rest, as they say, was history.

Rick was so far from her type that none of her friends ever quite “got” them as a couple. Rick was from a trust fund family, his father a multi-million-dollar entrepreneur in Kansas City, and he had wanted for nothing growing up. Everything was handed to him on a gold plate. He didn’t know the meaning of living paycheck to paycheck or just getting by - which was how she’d grown up.

He was sweet, though and treated her like she’d always wanted a man to treat her. She didn't care about the fancy restaurants or the extravagant gifts he gave her; she cared that he proudly showed her off to his friends and family, who all seemed to adore her. He was always a gentleman when she was with him.

Rick wasn’t much in the bedroom, but was that really important when you loved everything else about a person? Good sex wasn’t the be-all and end-all and certainly didn’t constitute a good relationship, right?

None of it mattered anymore, anyway. He’d shown his true colours and made sure she knew she wasn’t good enough for him. It was time to put him in her past and try to move forward. She’d cried over him all night, which was far too long in her book.

Glancing over at Dean working under the hood of the Camaro, she smiled to herself. Now that Rick was out of the picture and with how sweet the mechanic had been with her at the diner, the feelings she’d had for Dean since her first day working here were back. She grinned, remembering Dean telling her she was beautiful and worth it and Rick didn’t deserve–

“Watcha smiling at Cher?” Benny said, causing her to yelp and jump, banging her knee off the desk.

“God dammit, Benny! What d’ya do that for?” she whined, rubbing her sore knee and glaring at the laughing Cajun leaning against the doorframe. “What d’ya want?” she pouted.

“I’m sorry for scaring ya,” Benny chuckled. “Just wanted to see if you’re up for some drinks at the Roadhouse on Saturday.”

“Well… that depends,” Y/N furrowed her brows as she looked at him.

“On…?” Benny asked.

“Who’s going?” she replied.

“The usual: me and Donna, Cas and Meg…”

“Oh great! Couples being all…” she gestured wildly with her hands, trying to find the right word. “Coupley,” she finished, lips curling in distaste.

“Dean’s going too, so you two can couple-bash together,” Benny smirked.

“Sure. Until a hottie shows up in a belt claiming it’s a skirt, her boobs spilling out of a top that’s two sizes too small so they look way bigger than they actually are, and Dean goes all horndog over her. And then, as always, I’ll be the awkward third wheel while you guys all stare at each other with heart eyes,” Y/N rambled, and Benny looked on in amusement.

“You know what? Thanks for the invite Benny, but I think I should sit this one out,” she concluded.

“Aw, come on, Cher! It’ll be fun!” Benny tried putting on his best puppy eyes, and she rolled hers dramatically.

“For who, Benny? No one wants the bitter, newly single girl crashing their good time buzz,” she sighed exasperatedly.

“We do, Y/N/N. Look, just think about it, okay?” Benny pleaded.

“I appreciate it, Benny, but honestly, I don’t think it’ll be a fun night for me seeing two perfect couples be all mushy and Dean hitting on every girl there except…” she stopped abruptly.

“Except who, Cher?” Benny prodded, even though he already knew the answer.

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N waved her hand dismissively.

“Yes, it does,” Benny tried one last time.

“I’ll think about it, okay? If there’s nothing else, I need to get on with these invoices.”

Benny nods, understanding that she wants the subject dropped. “He’s an asshole, you know.”

“Who?” Y/N’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Rick,” Benny says, and she gives a small, grateful smile. “Dean, too,” Benny winks and leaves her office before she questions him further. Those two idiots needed to sort this out for themselves, after all.

What Benny said had stunned her. Never in a million years would she think there was a chance Dean shared her feelings, but something in his face when he told her that Dean was an asshole had her thinking…

Nah. It’s too crazy. There’s no way he likes me.

She needs to get over this obsession with Dean. It’s unhealthy; she’s not his type and never will be. She’s not perfectly flawless or sexy like the women he takes home.

They’re just friends, and she needs to accept that’s all they’ll ever be.

Part Two >>

Jensen / Dean Tags: @akshi8278 @deanwanddamons @deans-baby-momma @siospins2 @sexyvixen7 @leigh70

[ghost-facer]

from this prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting

The first thing Dean wanted to do when Cas came back was ask what the hell his dying speech meant. Dean’s replayed it countless times. He’s interpreted what the words “I love you” mean in every possible way. It’s gotten so bad that it’s in his nightly routine to replay what Cas said right before he falls asleep every fucking night. It’s eating him alive.

He thinks about it all the fucking time. He knows it’s making him tense. He feels like he’s walking on eggshells around the biggest elephant in the room.

Still, Dean doesn’t ask.

It’s obvious Cas needs some time to adjust to being back. So Dean doesn’t press him about it. But the pressure of it builds within Dean. It fills him up like helium in a balloon, and he knows one of these days he’s going to burst.

It shouldn’t be surprising when it all explodes out of him when he isn’t ready.

He and Cas get into a fight. It’s Dean’s fault. He’s tense, and he probably should’ve talked it all out with Cas sooner, but it’s been pissing him off that Cas hasn’t brought it up, so now he’s convinced himself Cas doesn’t love him anymore, and Dean feels like he’s lost something irreplaceable, but he’s not even sure what he lost in the first place.

He’s a frustrated mess.

Dean finds Cas in the garage getting into one of the spare cars. This icy cold fear with a steel-like grip holds onto Dean’s heart.

Cas is leaving him.

Again.

It bursts out of him. “Where the hell are you going?”

Castiel blinks in confusion at Dean’s harsh tone. He's stopped what he was doing, and he’s standing there with the driver’s side door open. “The grocery store. Jack wants some snacks.”

“You didn’t tell me.” Dean sounds more accusatory than he means.

Cas stiffens then glares. “I didn’t realize I had to tell you everything I plan on doing today.”

Dean walks closer and glares back. “Yeah, well, how should I know what you’re not telling me when you have a habit of keeping important things from me.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t fucking know, Cas. Maybe that you love me??”

The silence is deafening. The only sounds are their harsh breaths and the quiet electric whir of the bunker.

Now really isn’t the time. Dean should let it go. He doesn’t. "Why did you never tell me?" It’s nearly a whisper. His voice is hoarse.

Cas looks down. He grinds his jaw. "It was a personal issue,” he spits out. He reluctantly looks up at Dean.

This conversation doesn’t even feel real. Dean scoffs. "You being in love with me kind of also involves me."

Cas looks away again, but a scowl twists his face. “Not when it isn’t reciprocated.”

“What do you mean not—” Dean stops short. Gently, softly, “Oh, Cas.”

Cas’ expression flickers, and something dangerously vulnerable crosses his face for just a second. “What.”

“You really think—” Dean swallows. “It’s…it’s not one-sided, man.”

Annoyance flashes in Cas’ eyes. He stands up straighter and locks eyes with Dean. He slams the car door shut. “It’s not? So, you’re in love with me too?” Cas flings it at him like an accusation.

“Yup.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “That’s what I thou—” He straightens again. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“I love you too.”

“Ah.” Cas is still looking at him, but his eyes glaze over with a faraway look.

Shit.

“Cas?”

Cas blinks. His eyes focus again. “Dean…”

“Yeah?”

“What…”

Oh god, Dean broke him. “Hey,” he tries to say reassuringly. He slowly walks forward until they’re only a few inches apart. He grabs Cas’ shoulders. Squeezes gently. “It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart.”

Oh, fuck, shit.

Dean didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out. Maybe Cas didn’t notice.

But Cas is still ramrod straight and stiff, and he’s staring at Dean with parted lips and flushed cheeks. Okay, he definitely noticed Dean’s slip-up.

Dean asks, “Do you wanna sit down?”

Cas shakes his head. He’s still looking at Dean like he sprouted a second head.

“Okay, why don’t we—”

“Can I hug you?” The question is barely audible. Cas’ eyes are still wide. Dean’s heart melts.

“Yeah.” Dean moves his arms to wrap around Cas’ back and pulls them together.

Cas is warm and solid. He smells like earth and electricity.

He feels like home.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut when he feels tears begin to form.

Dean whispers, “Missed you.”

Cas lets out a trembling breath and finally hugs Dean back. “Dean.”

One of Cas’ hands tentatively strokes the hair on the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean nearly crumbles at the gentle touch.

Cas holds him tighter. “I love you,” he confesses breathlessly.

“I love you too.”

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

This trip to the supermarket is the first time in nearly two weeks Dean’s left the bunker.

He didn’t mean to stay underground so long, but it was easier, he figured, to just say no to whatever meager hunts came up or going for a drink or anything else. And then the days of easiness piled up, and now it’s been fourteen days since he’s seen sunlight.

(The main reason he agreed to get the food this week was so that Sam would stop looking at him like there’s something wrong. Nothing is wrong. Dean is fine. If he wasn’t fine, would he be gripping the Impala’s wheel so tightly?) 

It’s with this line of thought that Dean hits the figure standing in the middle of the road with his car.

He slowed down, noticing just in time, but not enough for the front of the car not to tap them, and his brain stops for a second as he remembers that maybe he should get out and check on the person he just hit with his car.

(Maybe he’s not as okay as he’s been pretending, but it’s not his fault. If Cas hadn’t—If Jack was—If Dean could—)

(Well.)

Dean’s gonna say something like Sorry or You okay? but those words die on his lips when he sees scuffed black dress shoes. Slacks. A dirty tan trench coat. A loose blue tie. A shock of familiar dark hair. 

The figure is sitting up. The figure is fine. The figure is Cas.

Cas who is, last time Dean checked (and he checks every fucking day), dead.

Cas who is sitting right in front of him.

Cas who he just hit with his car.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, voice rougher than usual, like he’s been coughing or crying or both, and Dean just stares. 

Cas stands up, tries to dust himself off. It doesn’t do much. 

“I’m on the way to the supermarket,” Dean manages to say, and then mentally curses himself. What kind of follow-up is that? I love you, Cas told him, and the best he’s got is I’m on the way to the supermarket.

(What he wants to say is, I love you, too, and that’s why I’ve barely left my room for two weeks, but now I’m on my way to the supermarket, I’m on my way to the supermarket now because I love you, and you’re here, and how fucking absurd and insane is that, will you go with me to the supermarket?)

“Can I come with you?” Cas asks.

“Yes.” No—Dean stops himself. Pauses. “Wait. Are you…” He remembers last time. Cas’s voice. I’m hurt. Please let me in. “What was the last thing you said to me?”

“Can I come with you?”

“Before that.” Dean almost feels like he doesn’t need to double-check anymore, because that’s Cas, alright. His Cas.

“Ah. Goodbye, Dean.”

That one hurts. “Before that, too.”

“I love you.” 

Cas isn’t crying this time. Billie’s not knocking on the door. They’re not outrunning God himself. 

“You told me,” Cas continues, “Don’t do this.”

“I meant…” Dean swallows. “I meant don’t die.”  He’s told Cas not to do that before, but Cas doesn’t listen very well. To anyone.

He’s got things to say. Questions to ask, like how did you come back? Did I just wish hard enough? Words to whisper, or maybe shout, maybe shout as loud as he can, like me too, you changed me too. 

But for now, Dean just gestures at the Impala. “Let’s go.” 

And Cas, risen from the dead, gets in the car.

[420technoblazeit]

22, 24, and 25 for crowley for the fandom ask game (unless you want to do someone else between supernatural or homestuck or really anything)?

22. Give us a headcanon for [character]

i dont think we've ever fuckign seen crowley drive have we. we've seen him ride in the impala and cas' cars as a passenger but not as a driver. i think he just doesnt fucking know how to drive. his ass lived in 1600s scotland and he teleports everywhere now so he never learned. cas finds this out while theyre on that season 12 roadtrip looking for lucifer bc he asks him to drive one day so he can take a break or look at the map or smth and crowley juts has to tell him that he doesnt know how. cas tells dean immediately and calls him so they can both make fun of him

24. What's your favourite thing about [character]?

i like that he never shuts the fuck up ever and is so so insufferable all of the time. tbh. still thinkign about that scene at the start of season 9 when dean opened up the impala's trunk and crowley was tied and gagged not bc anyone would hear him, bc they were in some fuckass abandoned church, but bc he wouldnt stop talkign and it was getting on dean's nerves. i like that he has the same smart ass charmer thing dean has going on but arguably does it better and that pisses dean off

25. What's your least favourite thing [character] said or did?

this probably isnt like. my LEAST favorite thing he did but im in the middle of s8 rn and i feel a little bad about how he's treating kevin. wait hold on. i just remembered he tried to steal bobby's soul like twice ok that might be it. tbh.

fandom ask game!

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Devil May Care: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Summary: Castiel is missing after you told him to go to the Bunker after the angels fell. However, that is put on hold when Abaddon calls with two hostages that you now need to save.

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

x

Instead of heading straight to the Bunker, Dean parked on the side of the road next to some outdoor picnic area. Sam's curious as to what's been happening since the fall, so you've told him everything minus the angel that's locked inside of him.

Dean is laying flat on top of the wooden table, and Joanna is climbing all over him like she's at a jungle gym. Mary's having some trouble crawling, but you're right next to her so she doesn't fall off the table.

"Joanna, be careful."

"Daddy is strong. He can take it," she says casually.

You and Dean laugh at this, and he tickles her side until she is crying with laughter.

"So, Cas is human?" Sam asks.

"Ish," Dean says, holding onto Joanna and sitting up so she is now in his lap. "I mean, he doesn't have any grace, no wings, no harp, and whatever the hell else he had."

"Okay. Where'd he crash-land?"

"He called us from a payphone from Longmont, Colorado. We told him to head to the Bunker."

"You think he can handle a road trip like that?"

"Cas is a big boy. If things go sideways, he has our number. Right now, we have bigger worries."

"Like the fallen angels."

Dean meant about Ezekiel, first, but he doesn't make a move to show his true feelings.

"Right. Thanks to Metatron, we now have a couple of thousand confused loose nukes walking around down here."

"What do you think they're gonna do?"

"We have no damn idea," you sigh.

"What about Crowley? Did you kill him?"

"I would've loved nothing better than to ice that fucking bitch. Then I thought to myself, what would Sam Winchester do?" Dean says bitterly.

"I'd've stabbed him in the brain."

"Well, I figured the King of Hell might know a few things, so why not keep his ass alive for the time being?"

"He's alive?" Sam asks, shocked.

You pick Mary up and follow Dean over to the car, to which Dean unlocks the trunk. Inside is Crowley, handcuffed, gagged, and unable to get out because of the warding. Dean painted a devil's trap underneath the roof to keep him from smoking out.

"Yeah, he's our bitch now," you grin.

"Yeah, bitch," Joanna says.

"Joanna!" you laugh, and Dean covers her mouth immediately. Crowley rolls his eyes at the sass she gives him, and Dean closes and locks the trunk. "We should really watch what we say around her."

By the time you get back to the Bunker, you're disappointed that Castiel isn't here. He either got lost, got captured by the many different angels after him, or found someone else to help. Either way, he's not here. The only person who you left behind in the Bunker is Kevin, and you're not sure what you'll be walking into.

Some of the lights are on, but as soon as you walk in, someone sets off the first trap. An arrow whizzes straight at you, but you use your magic to catch it before it can hit anyone. You look below to see Kevin with an automatic crossbow in his hands. You can't see much from your vantage point, but you can see that he's overturned the library tables to make some sort of barrier to protect him. He also took the books and stacked them all around him so nothing could get him.

"Easy there, Katniss," you say and walk down the metal stairs with Dean.

"Dean? Y/N? You're alive!" Kevin laughs.

"Had that hit me, not for long."

"Sorry, it's been a bad couple of days. I haven't slept or eaten, and I'm pretty backed up."

"Okay, TMI," Dean shakes his head.

"After we talked, this place went nuts, alright? There was some alarm, all the machines were freaking out, and the bunker just locked down! I couldn't open the door, my cell phone stopped working, and I thought the world was ending!"

"Close. The angels fell from Heaven."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing good," Dean answers, and takes the crossbow from Kevin. "Listen, next time the world's ending, grab a gun." He takes out his cell phone to check if he has service. "I have service."

Kevin flips some switches on the control panel in the war room. All the lights turn on, and the machines whir into action.

"It's back online. Maybe when you opened the door from the outside, it reset the system."

"Yeah, let's go with that. Clean this all up," you say regarding the mess.

Sam enters the Bunker from above with Crowley next to him, and the demon has a bag over his head so he doesn't see where the Bunker is or what's inside. As soon as Kevin sees him, all he sees is red.

"No," Kevin whispers to himself.

Sam and Dean lead Crowley to the dungeon which is perfect for holding a demon while you put the kids to bed. They've been stuck in a car for almost twenty-four hours, so they need to take a much-needed nap. After that, you leave their room and head to the dungeon where Crowley is now chained to a chair in the center of the big devil's trap on the floor. Crowley takes in his surroundings. The side wall is filled with all kinds of torture implements.

"Homey. Where did you get this fantastic little treehouse?"

"Alright, here's how it's gonna go. You're giving us the name of every demon on Earth, and the people they're possessing," Sam demands.

"Am I? That doesn't sound like me."

"I saw you break down, Crowley. When I was trying to cure you, I knew a part of you was human again, and maybe still is."

"Blah blah, boohoo," Crowley rolls his eyes. "Are you done? Good because this is what I know. I'm not giving you anything. Why would I? You have no leverage, darlings. You're not gonna close the gates of Hell because you didn't. You're not gonna kill me because you haven't. So, what's left?"

"We have a few ideas," Dean smirks.

"Torture. Brilliant. Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S-A-M into S&M. Honestly, boys. What are you gonna do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?"

"Rot in Hell. See if we care," you say.

You and the brothers turn and leave the dungeon, closing the doors and locking them. Not like he can get out anyway. You turn off the lights and leave Crowley alone to stew in his feelings. When you get back upstairs, Kevin isn't shy to show his anger.

"What's Crowley doing here?! Why isn't he dead?! Why aren't you stabbing him right now?!"

"Calm down, Kevin," you sigh. "We need him."

"What?!"

"If we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he's got topside, we can hunt them down. All of them. He will break. When he does, we'll hold him down while you knife him. Then, we all go out for ice cream and strippers," Dean jokes.

"Just stay away from him, alright?"

Kevin sighs knowing he is outnumbered and unable to get past two heavyset Winchesters and a witch.

"Now what?"

"I gotta make some phone calls. You need to hit the Angel tablet and see if you can find anything on the spell that Metatron used to empty out Heaven," Dean says.

"Yeah, maybe we can reverse it before the God Squad does too much damage," Sam says. "I'll check anything relating to angels and demons and anything with monsters."

"It's going to be a long year," you sigh.

The best thing to do is to get on top of this angel thing, and Dean called every hunter he knew to see if they knew more about the angels falling. Some of them had no clue what was going on, some had information that Dean already knew, and others didn't answer. Dean's on the phone with Irv, a hunter your dad used to work with that he'd tell stories about. You've never met him but you know about him.

"Did you say fallen angels?"

"Yeah, they're monsters with good PR," Dean rolls his eyes. "So, if you run into one, torch his ass with holy oil. Oh, and if they drop a silver sword, grab it. Those pigstickers come in handy."

"Copy that."

"Hey, I know this is weird, but--"

"Weird is what we do," Irv cuts him off. "I remember this case me and Bobby worked up in Saskatoon, and it had these two—"

"Werewolf siamese twins," Dean chuckles.

"He told you about that?"

"Every time he drank Labatt's," you say.

"Yeah, so if you run into any problems, give me a call, okay? The more hunters that know, the better."

"Roger-Dodger."

Sam comes in with his laptop in hand just as Dean hangs up on Irv.

"I found something. Nothing angel related but it's demon related."

"They're all the same thing to me. Tell us in the car."

"Kevin!" you shout. You peek your head into the library where Kevin is cleaning up the books he made a mess of. "You're on kid duty. Can you handle that?"

"Fine," he sighs.

"Great. Thank you. Call me if you have any issues."

After packing up your things, you three head out. All that Sam knows is that a bus that held a few army soldiers and some prisoners was abandoned in a parking lot. The only thing left behind was the prisoners, but they were all dead. The entire area has been marked off with yellow tape, and there are multiple police officers and army personnel present. This is either going to go very well or not at all.

As soon as you step out of the Impala, you cough at the strong scent.

"Oh, God. This place reeks of sulfur," you groan.

"Between the stink, the freak thunderstorms, and every dead cow within three miles, I'll take demons for $1000, please," Dean jokes. A sergeant walks up to you three with an unhappy face. She must not like that you're here. "Hey. Agents Stark, Banner, and Maximoff, FBI. We're here to have a look around."

"Why? This is a military case, not a federal one."

"Well, that's not what our supervisor said," Sam sasses her.

"Is that so? Then maybe he and I oughta have a chat," she says with a bittersweet smile.

You're about to use your magic on her, but Dean is already pulling out his phone. There are a bunch of police and military personnel here, and if one of them sees you using magic, then it's game over for you. Dean quickly dials someone without looking at the Sergeant.

"Hey, boss, uh... we have a little problem here."

"Boss?" Kevin says, confused.

"Yeah, just a local badge needs confirmation we're supposed to be here. About how the word came down from FBI headquarters in DC."

"Wait, what?" Kevin stutters.

Dean has no choice but to hand her the phone, and you wait and see if you'll really need your magic or not. The Sergeant doesn't take her eyes off Dean as she puts the phone to her ear.

"This is Sargent Miranda Bates, who am I talking to?"

"Uh, Kevin... Solo."

"How old are you?"

Uh oh. Kevin better be quick on his feet if he is going to get you access to this crime scene without you stepping in.

"Old enough, and I'm with the FBI so you have to do what I say, or—"

"Listen, kid," Miranda cuts him off, "I don't have to do anything, and I don't take orders from the Feds. So, unless you can give me one good reason you got a few pretty-boy agents poking around my crime scene, I'm gonna put them in cuffs and spank your ass raw, understand?"

Shit.

"Cabo, last June."

"What?" her face pales, and you smirk subtly.

"That's my reason. My favorite is you in a sombrero doing a body shot off some naked guy in a Luchador mask. Super classy."

"How did you find that?"

Classic Kevin to go hacking around in her life.

"Because I'm Kevin fucking Solo. So, unless you want this forwarded to your commanding officer, Major Velasquez... I suggest you give my guys anything they want. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir," she sighs and hands the phone back to Dean.

She looks around awkwardly before leaving your side.

"Kevin? What the hell did you just do?" Dean asks.

"All military computers are linked to the same network."

Dean gives Sam the okay, and both you and Sam leave his side so he can finish his conversation with Kevin.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[cosmicoceanfic]

Claireverse, Goodbye Stranger

Dean gets in the car and looks behind him. He sees Crowley, holding onto Meg, sees the both of them staring at him, and makes one of those lightning decisions, the one where it’s not really a decision, it just kinda happens.

Dean slams the car into reverse. In surprise, Crowley releases Meg, who takes a few skittering steps back. The back of the Impala plows into Crowley, sending him flying. Meg gapes at him.

“GET IN THE FUCKING CAR,” Dean roars. Meg doesn’t have to be told twice, jumping into the shotgun seat. Dean takes off like a shot, gripping the steering wheel, trying to breathe even. They drive in silence for the first five minutes or so, Meg staring at him as he white knuckles the wheel.

“Where’s Feathers?” She finally asks.

“It’s.” Dean takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t know means I don’t fucking know, Meg.” He takes another breath. “The angels… did something to him. He beat me half to death, he snapped out of it, he took off.”

They’re quiet again.

“Why did you do that? Back there?”

“I don’t know. I think. I think I owe you one, maybe.”

Meg squints at him. “Elaborate.”

“I, uh. You kept an eye on Cas. When he was nutso. And I… I think I owe you one. For that.”

“You do.”

“So I am… paying you back. I’m not doing it again, though, so you should stay the fuck away from Crowley.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Didn’t think it would.”

Meg takes a deep, steeling breath.

“Thanks,” she says, very grudgingly. “Or whatever.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure.”

They fall silent.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Dean says abruptly. “By which I mean I just saved your ass from Short Dark and Cranky back there, so I get to ask you something.” Meg doesn’t say anything, just glowers, but she doesn’t bite him or anything, so he takes it that he’s good to go. “What’s the deal with you and Cas?”

“And what deal might you be referring to?”

“Oh, fuck you, don’t make me beg.”

“I dunno. Maybe I like the sound of you begging.”

Dean grits his teeth. “Look, do you have the warm fuzzies for him or not?”

“Why? Are you jealous?”

Dean scowls. “No. No. No, I’m not, I just want to know. He’s my friend, I’m looking out for him, something you’d know, if you had friends.”

Meg looks out the windshield.

“What can I say? I find myself rather fond of the little tree topper.”

“Fond how?”

“I’m not going to corrupt his angelic virtue, if that’s what you’re so worried about. I have no interest in popping that particular cherry.”

“Then what do you want with him?”

“Well, perhaps I enjoy his company. I don’t call him just when I need something, you know.”

“I don’t do that,” Dean snaps. “And you don’t call him, anyway.”

“Don’t you?” Meg stretches her legs out, resting her feet on the dash. “He’s always so happy to bleed for the Winchesters, but are the Winchesters so happy to bleed for him?”

Dean grits his teeth. “Meg, get your fucking feet off my dashboard before I break them off.” Meg rolls her eyes but complies. “You know, Claire and I were settled. We had our own apartment, we were stable. And he didn’t come to see me once. He came to see Claire which, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for! But he only came to see me when he needed help. So you wanna talk about me only calling him when he needs something, sister, it is a two way street.”

Meg tilts her head back. “You wanna know what I think?”

“No.”

“I think that you are fundamentally broken.”

“Meg, I am seven seconds from kicking your ass out on the side of the road-“

“But I think so is Castiel. And so is Moose. And so I am, too, maybe. And I think we all behave in strange, fucked up, fundamentally broken little ways, and none of us know how to communicate with each other.”

Dean sniffs. “Since when do you get profound?”

“I was tortured for a long time, Ken Doll. I had a lot of time to think.” Meg sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Winchester. All I can tell you is that I like being around him. I like the way he sees me. You say I don’t have friends, but I think I have one. I think I have Clarence. And if I get my hands on whatever angel fucked him around in his brainpan, I’ll skin them. That’s what you would do, isn’t it?”

Dean tightens his grip on the wheel. “Yeah. Well.”

“Am I permitted to interrogate your intentions now?”

“No, you are not.” Dean looks at her. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to ground. Somewhere far away. I’m getting my hair how I like it and I’m burying myself so deep the Little Prince of Hell will never find me.”

Dean grits his teeth. He can’t believe he’s doing this.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, we’re making a pit stop, before you fuck off.”

Meg folds her arms. “You know, if you wanted to kill me yourself, I have to tell you, I can absolutely take you.”

“Believe me, I’d love nothing more, but.” Dean thinks of the look on Cas’ face, staring down at him. The horror in his eyes as he healed Dean’s broken face. “I’m doing somebody a solid.”

+

Meg barely says a word the entire time Dean is buying the phone, eyeing him suspiciously. When they get outside the phone store, Dean programs his number into it, and programs the new phone’s number into his. He shoves the phone at Meg.

“Here,” he says. “Take it.”

Meg does so, slowly. “Why?”

“Listen-“ Dean steels himself. “I don’t know where Cas is or what he’s doing. But, uh. He’s gonna. He’s gonna wanna know you’re okay. So I am… I am leaving an avenue open for him.”

Meg sizes him up.

“Thanks,” she finally says.

“Hey, I’m not doing this for you, Bitch Barbie. I’m doing this cause maybe. Maybe I owe Cas one, too.”

Meg slides the phone into her pocket. “Well. Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Ideally, no.”

“Mm.” Meg stretches. “Later, bitch nuggets.”

Meg strides off, leaving Dean leaning against the Impala. He rubs his eyes, taking a deep breath. He’s got to go home. Brief Sam. Come up with a story for Claire about Cas. Take a long, long nap.

[melanieathene]

Suptober 2022 Day 15 - Smoke

It didn't happen often, not like it had when he was much younger, but every now and then Dean found himself craving a cigarette. He had given up the habit long ago. Not because Sam nagged him (and he had - incessantly), but rather because Dean discovered for himself that they were slowing him down. Shortness of breath and a wheezing cough did not suit the life he led. A hunter had to be fit and fast on his feet if he wanted to live to see another day. So Dean stopped smoking. Cold turkey. And he did so with no regrets.

Still, every now and then the longing seized him. As it had tonight.

Maybe it had been a hard day. Maybe it was the whiff of smoke he had caught as they walked across the parking lot to their motel room. Or maybe, just maybe, he was worried about a certain angel.

Castiel had been gone for a long, long time. Too long. Almost three weeks now since the Winchesters had last heard from him.

Sam was only mildly concerned. "You know how he is, Dean. Time doesn't mean the same thing to angels as it does to us. It's not like he's in any danger. He just popped up to Heaven for a bit. Gabriel is probably talking his ear off now that he's back."

"Maybe," Dean said. But he obviously didn't believe that to be the case.

"Do you know something I don't?" Sam asked, picking up on his brother's caginess.

"Maybe," Dean repeated. But when Sam pressed for details, Dean grew angry and slammed out the door.

The night air was cold, but not cold enough to cool his temper. His breath puffed out in little clouds and blew back in his face. His jacket having been been left behind in his haste to escape Sam's interrogation, Dean decided to go sit in the car. Maybe he'd take a little spin to the nearest convenience store and buy a pack or two…

But, as he approached the Impala, he saw a familiar shape casually leaning against its side. Dean's footsteps slowed. His heart beat a little faster in his chest.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said.

"Fuck off, Cas," Dean replied. "You don't get to ditch me and then act like nothing happened."

"I needed time to think."

"About what?"

"About what we did. And what I said. And how you didn't reply."

"You think you're just another notch on my bedpost?" Dean exclaimed. "You know how bad I am with words… but I thought I showed you what you mean to me."

"I hoped… I didn't know."

"Damn it, Cas. I love you. Goddamned angels and their tendency to misinterpret social cues."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh. So are you through running away from me now?"

"I believe I am."

"Good. Then get your feathery ass over here and give me a kiss."

Turns out some things are more addictive than cigarettes.