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bijoharvelle · 2 years

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"Dude, you like, lived out my early-twenties fantasy."

"Your fantasy was dating Dean Winchester?" Cassie asks with one eyebrow quirked. Her hand is paused halfway to lifting her tea cup to her mouth.

"Well. Yeah. I was a stupid kid," Jo hedges, straightening in her seat. Something soft and nostalgic washes over her face and for a minute her eyes go faraway. "Plus he was all. Vulnerable and trying to be strong when I first met him."

Cassie laughs a little at that, lashes fanning over her cheeks. "Yeah. He was kind of like that when I met him. Drowning in his dad's jacket like he was a kid playing dress-up."

Jo laughs, nodding, and then snorts, which makes her eyes go wide and cheeks pink. Cassie just laughs harder, reaching a hand across the table to rest over one of Jo's. They laugh more, together, trailing off into nonsensical giggles.

"What else was he like, though?" Jo asks after they've calmed, leaning forward on her elbows. "It must have been all... what? Like, brooding mystery, right? All I'm burdened with purpose and a hero complex." Jo affects a gruff approximation of Dean's voice, making Cassie laugh again.

"There was a lot of that, yeah. Especially when we were around other people. But he was also..." Her eyes cast out, over to where Dean is sitting at the other end of the war room. He and Sam are ostensibly researching the time-space predicament they apparently find themselves in. But, every few minutes, Dean casts a wary look over to the girls. "He was sweet, when he wanted to be. Romantic in a way that a lot of dumbass guys aren't at that age."

A sliver of something sad works its way over Jo's face then. "That's nice. I never — I mean, I grew up pretty weird but the most romance I ever got was, like, some guy springing for a fresh pizza before trying to roll me in the back of his pick-up." She laughs a little at that but there's hurt around the edges of it. "I thought maybe... I dunno. I thought maybe it would get better and I would get to have something when I got older. But then I... I didn't get to get older."

They're quiet for a long moment then, Cassie sipping at her tea and Jo flickering her knife anxiously. A moment later, Castiel shuffles into the room from the far hall, looking annoyed. Cassie and Jo exchange a look — apparently his entreaty to the angels hadn't gone well.

They both watch as Cas takes a seat next to Dean, as Dean turns and opens his body to the angel, spreading one arm out to rest a hand on the back of Cas's chair. Sam goes back to his laptop and there's the soft murmuring of Dean and Cas talking to one another, heads bent low and almost touching. If she tilts her head, Jo can see the way their feet are slotted together under the table.

"Something like that," Jo says with a little sigh.

Cassie reads the pain clear over her face and slides her teacup away. Reaching across the table, she takes both of Jo's hands in hers. "Maybe this is your time," she says, eyes locks on Jo's. "You're here, for whatever reason, and maybe this is your chance for...something like that." She doesn't look over at Dean and his angel when she says that, eyes still set on Jo.

Jo blinks, mouth parted in soft wonder. She turns her hands so that her palms are matched against Cassie's, so their fingers can slot together. "Maybe it is," she agrees.

#hey uhhhhh who ordered the nonsense cassie x jo? no one? cool cool #cassie robinson #jo harvelle #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #destiel #chayya writes #cassie x jo

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deansfreckless · 3 years

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little ((bad)) something i wrote because insanity y’know. also I miss them.

“Cas, am I old?” Dean asks one day, looking towards the mirror, arms slouched along the sides, strays of grey hair muffled.

Cas - lying on the bed, bare torso, messy hair on top of his head - turns and looks at him questioningly.

Dean glances back at Cas through the mirror.

“What’s the matter?" Cas asks.

Dean’s firm lips hold a breath before answering. He lightly sighs, scratches his nape nervously and snorts “It’s— Nothing, ‘s just..nothing.”

“Dean” Cas says like he always does - fond, serious, apprehensive, loving- when Dean acts like that and Cas gets out of the bed, bedsheets slowly tracing and abandoning his body and hugs him from behind- bare torso, warm against dean - and places a soft kiss on the shoulder.

He glances at the mirror. Sees dean staring at his reflection.

“You are beautiful, Dean” Cas says. Plain and simple just because it’s true, just because he can say those things to Dean, just because Dean deserves to hear them. And Dean full on freezes. And Cas’ heart breaks a little.

When dean speaks again, his voice comes out in a rasp “’M turning 50 this year, Cas”

“That’s how birthdays work, Dean”

Dean elbows him softly but his voice is filled with a hint of laughter “You are spending too much time with Sam. Can’t handle two sarcastic-pain-in-the-ass nerds”

Cas huffs a laughter and kisses dean on the cheek. Dean’s body warm and soft against the cold air that fills the room.

“You turning 50 doesn’t determine your beauty, Dean. Or whatever it is you are concerned about now”

“Not concerned just— yeah, whatever”Dean snorts, still staring at his reflection. His right hand follows the outlines of his appearance, a grimace holding his lips.

“It’s just...My belly. Always had defined abs, you know and now it’s all soft”

Cas looks at him for a while, light sighs filling the room. Dean seems to tighten from his gaze.

“I love your belly, Dean” Cas slowly murmurs, locking eyes with the other man’s reflection. “I like putting my head there at night when we read in silence or when you put a movie on. One of those movies you love so much. I like to plant kisses there, seeing you blush under my displays of affection”

Dean remains silent for a moment, then: “I don’t blush”

Cas rolls his eyes, a gesture he has learned from watching human behavior and that finds pretty useful when dealing with the winchesters. A smile tugs his lips.

He kisses Dean’s collarbone -once, twice- and feels Dean leaning in the embrace.

“My hair.. I-“

Cas doesn’t miss a beat: “Few and little grey hairs at your sides, on the top and back of your head. I have them too and I think they suit you. It seems to mark your stay on earth, Dean. When a new one grows it’s like a confirm you are here and you are okay. That we are okay, are we, Dean?”

Cas knows the answer. Has known for a long time now.

It’s in the way they look at each other at night, intimate and vulnerable, fingers intertwined and legs dangling from the bed.

It’s in the mornings and the silence they mutually share, in the walk towards the kitchen, sometimes alone founding the other already there, cup of coffee in their hands and another ready for them to drink; sometimes together, grumpy and slightly tired and so in love.

It’s in Dean’s ever so green eyes looking at him with ease, in their fights from time to time that leave them angry and sad and confused, hands still holding the other’s, it’s in the nightmares and the caring and the memories and the hope. it’s in everything they are and in nothing less than that.

“Of course we are, dumbass” Dean says, rolling his eyes. Then:”My-“

“Dean” Cas states "Turn around”

And Dean does. And Cas kisses him while he talks-every part he can reach.

“You have little crinkles forming at your eyes when you smile now. I love them, I love seeing them because I love seeing you smile and laugh and grin just like you do. I like your softness, your hair, your belly, the freckles that seem to have increased, your strays of grey hair. I love the scars you have that are healing. I hate that you have them, that you had to go through such sufference, but you have them and it’s okay, Dean. It’s okay to have them and to be reminded of how strong you were. Of how strong you are. I love everything about what makes you feel older in a way because to me, it’s a sign that this, all of this, is real, that this is happening, that you are aging and living your life just like you deserve to, that you are safe and, hopefully, happy and serene. And that you feel loved- There’s nothing I want more than that, I hope you know it. And more, more than anything, Dean, your soul is beautiful. Pure light shining and glowing every time I look at you, and I know you are judging yourself from just your physicality- It’s something humans tend to do, but oh, dean if they.. if you could just see how incredible and pure and clean and wonderful you really are.... if you could just see yourself once, just once from my perspective, see how I see you, how I perceive you. I will spend everyday I get to have on this planet telling you just how beautiful you are, Dean, until you can finally realize the beauty you hold into your heart. You are beautiful, Dean. Still and always. Absolutely ethereal and I am so deeply in love with you”

If Dean sheds some tears, that’s nobody’s business, but Cas holds him tightly then and there and talks to him, softly traces his body murmuring praises and Dean breaks and breaks and breaks. But he is with Cas. He is safe. He can let himself break.

“Dean.. I- Me growing older, it’s okay for you isn’t it?”Cas asks at some point. Silence stretching between them.

“There was never one, there’s no one and there will never be one I’d rather growing older with than you, Cas”

“Plus" Dean adds, grinning “I love your grey hair. Makes you look like a dilf.”

“Dean”

#deancas #destiel fic #destiel #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #misha collins #jensen ackles #cockles #jenmish #spnfandom #spn #fanfic #otp #imagine your otp #castiel winchester

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myaimistrue · 3 years

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written for @floral-cas ‘s content creator celebration!! congratulations on your milestone--it’s well-deserved <3

gardenias symbolize trust, love, and respect

Cas is smiling when he busts into the kitchen. He’s covered in dirt, like he always is after he’s been out in the garden, but Dean can’t quite bring himself to bitch about it, not when his husband looks so ridiculously happy about something. He finds himself grinning back without meaning to.

“Well, heya sunshine,” he drawls, leaning back against the cabinets and wiping his hands on a towel—the dishes can wait a few minutes. “What’s got you smiling?”

“I made something for you.” Dean notices for the first time that Cas has one hand held behind his back. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean is smiling so hard his face is going to hurt; God, married life has really made him soft. “What is it?”

Cas’s eyes twinkle, and he takes his hand out front behind his back.

He’s holding a bundle of white flowers from that bush in the yard—they’re the ones that Dean always smiles at when he leaves for work in the mornings, the ones he misses seeing most in the winter, his favorite of everything in Cas’s extensive garden. They’ve been tied carefully together with a piece of twine, which is looped into a crooked bow in the front. Dean remembers teaching Cas how to tie his shoes about a million years ago, back when he was still unknowable, back when Dean thought the thing between them would never go anywhere he wanted it to; now they’re here, in their house, with Cas holding out a bouquet of beautiful flowers that he put together just for Dean, tied together by his careful, gentle hands.

“Do you…” Cas’s smile has faded into something more blank, more guarded. “Do you like them?”

Dean blinks. Holy shit, he thinks, I’m about to cry over some flowers. “Yeah, I—” he clears his throat and smiles shakily. Cas smiles back, a little softer this time. “Jesus, Cas. I love them.”

“Really?”

Dean laughs, and if it’s a little tearful, Cas is good enough not to mention it. “Yes, baby, really. They’re gorgeous.” He looks down at the perfect white blooms, then back at Cas as he has a realization. “Wait, this isn’t an anniversary, is it? I’m not forgetting something?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “No, Dean.”

“Then what are these for?”

“They aren’t for anything. The gardenias were beautiful today, and I wanted to cut some for you.” Cas says it in that way of his, the way that means you’re making this needlessly complicated, Dean. “So you can put them in a vase and look at them, and you can know I was thinking of you. That I’m always thinking of you.”

Dean has just enough self-control to set the bouquet down on the table before he gets his arms around Cas. He kisses his husband deep and full, intense and so stupidly in love. Cas, of course, barely misses a beat, and it’s not long before they’re completely wrapped up in each other.

Dean does pull back eventually, because he’s the one that unfortunately has to breathe. Cas’s mouth is red and his hair is a ridiculous mess and he’s still smiling so bright Dean can barely look at him.

“So you really love the flowers,” Cas deadpans.

“Yeah, dumbass. I do.” Dean laughs. He knows he’s blushing like an idiot, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s got an armful of angel. “Y’know, nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“What?” Cas seems genuinely shocked by that. “Never?”

“Nope. S’not like I’m the kind of guy people get flowers for.” Dean kind of can’t believe he’s saying this out loud, and he looks down at the bouquet on the table, running his hands over the petals just to have something to do with them. “I gave them to a few girlfriends, Cassie and Lisa, but I—I don’t know. I always liked the idea of someone giving them to me. Kind of romantic, I guess.”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, and runs his thumbs gently across Dean’s cheeks as though that’s just something people casually do standing in their kitchen. His eyes are full of all his angelic might when he says, “I’m going to bring you flowers every single day, Dean Winchester.”

“Easy there, tiger.” Dean was shooting for snarky, but his voice is so soft with affection that it comes out more adoring than anything else. “These are more than enough.”

“There will never be enough flowers to show you how much I love you.” Cas kisses him gently, then pulls back, still cradling Dean’s face like it’s something to be treasured; Dean tries to catch his breath and doesn’t quite manage it.

“I love you, too.” Dean says quietly.

Cas kisses him one last time. When he pulls back, his brow is furrowed like he’s thinking, and with all the solemnity in the world, he looks at Dean and says, “I hope we have enough vases.”

Dean just laughs, and takes his husband into his arms again.

#rambleoncas #userzaddy #gardenercas #offbeattraxx #seffersonjtarship #deancas #destiel #deancas fic #destiel fic #del's writing #spn #this one fought me but i finally got it finished and i like how it turned out!#floralnatural

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just-pineapple-responses · 3 years

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Just curious, how many shower thought (response) blogs are there? I just dived into this side of tumblr (not gonna make any posts its fun to read though) and I'm already losing my mind

Well there is

The. Literal. Sun.

Plasma...

S p a c e

ALL HAIL THE LIGHT

The void. It shall consume ALL.

A typewriter incase anyone wants to write their will before they die

Also some ink, not related to the typewriter

Also some words, I wonder who'll use them

A hat with no maker and a maker with no hat

The pen is mightier than the sword. It just so happens that this one is evil. Luckily I can summon multiple

Anyone order some coffee?

Ooo, an author

The literal embodiment if of fanart

A fork, nom noms

B҉ r҉ o҉ k҉ e҉ n҉

Soap

Soap(for hair)

Toothpaste

🄵🄰🅄🄲🄴🅃

Towel

Bath mat

Washcloth

Bathtub

Bathwater

𝔹𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕓𝕠𝕞𝕓

Bubblebath!

One (1) bath boi

Some M͓̽o͓̽l͓̽d͓̽ (anybody got some strong disinfectant?)

Nvm, the mold has already caused a plague (gettit?) (although user misspelled it)

Nevermind, there's already a parasite here

Mirror

Door!!!

Some curtains

A denim jacket

Blackout

Rainbow

✨ Magic ✨

*Tree poses to assert dominance*

Coconut

(obviously me)

I think popeye dropped a tin of spinch and it became sentient?

Tost

Hummus. dip tost?

Criss Cross applesauce

Wibbly wobbly Wibbly wobbly jellyo

Mmmm océan s o u p

Some poison, a great addition for my soup

Smol bean

Potat

Shower magpie who I haven't seen in a while

Bird (brain)

Frog(×2:Electric Boogaloo)

An axolotl!

Ferret

*looks at smudged writing on hand. Squints. * a raccoon

Stinky bastard man (I just had to put the two next to each other)

Rat.

Becometh crab 🦀 (x2: Electric Boogaloo)

Nya~

Edgy Nya~

Tripod of dog

Brain

Nina i found one of your neurons (if you understand this reference, good job you)

A rotted brain, keep it away before it infects us all, I only have 2 braincells left

Did... Did someone drop their spinal cord?

The almighty binch

The titanic

Narrator

Water based introspection

Existential crisis

Dumbass

Also a pacifier (get it because they're also called dummies and their name is dummy)

A foolish thought to say a sorry sight join the shower community (as you can tell we did Shakespeare in English so many times i pretty much can recite everything lady macbeth said)

ADHD

Ominous

Anonymous

Anxious 🥺👉👈

Some edgy bastard

A person of culture I see (although obsessed with tweed for some reason)

1 Dapper boi

Sarcastic

nice

All smiles and sunshine

HAPPY! (why isn't there yellow 😔)

Affection (Derogatory) (I'm sorry I just felt like it)

~Petty~

Idiot

Disaster

Chaos and Order

Comebacks

'vanishing'

Defences

Threatened

Op is on drugs

All the F s

And F-general

Get out of the shower

Shower responses

Dry

The horny and the simp

Shower sins

Thower shoughts

I take quick showers

Shower thots

Last responder *countdown music*

You have shower thoughts?

Your shower thoughts are stupid

Wtf shower thoughts

Another shower responder

Just shower responses... responses

Response shower

NO SHOWER! only thought (×3)

Mmm, showery

Penny for your thoughts?

Hello darkness my old friend...

Llawyer

Beepbeep

Prussia

Haywire!!!

furry OwO

A Pigeon got in through the door, who left it open?

I'm feeling devious

You're looking glamorous, let's get mischievous, and polyamorous

Gay is stored in the ass

Gay

Trans

*opens door and walks through with you exaggeratedly* Fellas we got the whole LGBTQIA+ community right here

Enby

Hahaha gender go brrr

Lesbian

Lesbian-thot

Lust

Someone who thinks it funny to clown around

Joker (derogatory)

Haha straight

Dead inside

Some supervillain idk

News. Literally a shower news style responses

I cannot believe that I forgot Her Greatest Majesty, the Queen. All Hail Royal

Isaac newton?

M megamind?

Fiftieth

Crackhead

Some Phoenix Wright kinnie

What is a Dean Winchester and why does he have a tentacle fetish?

Well well well, if it ain't a homestuckian

Did someone kill/rob The Doctor or something, their TARDIS was left behind and its blocking my pretzels that I left in the shower

Mined crafts uwu

Well well well, if it ain't- *accidentally makes eye contact and is then killed by some unknown shadowy creature holding what seems to be some sort of cube of dirt*

GOTTA GO FAST

Mishamishamishamishamishamishamisha

Gen Z and ready to throw hands with OP

Not puki

Nom noms

Dip dap

Kensa

B͓̽u͓̽n͓̽g͓̽e͓̽r͓̽ ..........

Someone broke their space bar or something

It's time to d-d-d-d-d-dshower

The magical deity of sleepovers

DON'T FALL ASLEEP. NO MATTER WHAT THEY TELL YOU-

The muffin man genuinely left drury Lane for this

Txmblr

Moonlit nights on a winters day, stars glimmering gently

A child?

🟥

The fae. Just all of them. Every single one.

Crocus? (What on earth does that mean)

*sings* baba blacksheep have you any wool? Because if not you will be killed (this fits the tune perfectly. If not I have failed in everything)

The theatre itself is here... Somehow

Ahoy-hoy

boo

REEEE- *epic geometry dash gameplay to DanTDM's old intro music*

Yardale, not to be mistaken for riverdale and differs to lawn ale or front porch ale or even meter ale

I'll finish this list later

It's gonna be a long one folks

I'm including a ones that haven't spoken since ages ago because

Boy howdy there's new ones tell me who I'm missing now

Please stop thank you very much this is too many i keep having to add to this any new responder must kill a responder to continue the purge shall claim y'all as I will win i recently started watching Danganronpa

Seriously though everyone after mirror must have a battle royale it's too much i doubt all of you will even last longer than today also happy birthday me -dated:28th- do you even realise what sort of commitment you've made to sell pieces of your soul for entertainment and ability to make such epic retorts each and every post?! I sacrifice many souls DAILY to be throwing such bangers into this stuff y'know?

We have a tap guys we can finally wash our hands of all the blood of our enemies

Seriously though who left the door open I don't want a Pigeon pecking at me (the mishapocalypse got them lol)

So many responders so little time before the end of the world

If I'm missing someone please tell me very thank

There are not enough colours for me to assign a different one to each person 😔 also, wtf is on there twice on purpose

WorldHealthOrganisation IS MISSING (note: you may have a joke in place of name or under a category of names)

So there's lore without me?

ALL HAIL THE LIGHT *moth noises*

Okay now there's alternate timeline versions of responders for the benefit of myself they ain't going on the list bud

There is an incorrect role play blog quotes blog and I am crying. Not of laughter. Just wiuwhdhsjhshjxjabjsjdhdjsj

If any new people join I will go back to causing shower wars for the sake of killing you all I'm done I have snapped my laptop is updating 3 times in a row

I will commit crimes.

Does being a shower responder or role-playing seem encouraging to people to join this "community"? Because I'm pretty sure it's the latter

#ShowerThoughts blogs #Asks #As you can see I'm trying to organise in order of inanimate to animal to concepts to water else #*whatever else #And now rp blogs wow

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deancaskiss · 3 years

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Destiel December 2020, Day 8: Blizzard

@jellydeans @galaxycastiel

Word Count: 920

Dean shivered, yanking the scratchy blanket off the motel bed and throwing it over his arms as he sat back down at the table. Why oh why did they take on a case in the middle of Minnesota in winter when there was a massive blizzard happening? Sam was stuck out there alone, and now Dean and Cas were snowed in the motel with no functioning heating and a case they couldn't solve.

Not that Cas seemed at all affected by the cold. The angel had his head buried in one of the books they’d borrowed from the library, sprawled out in the chair in a completely relaxed manner. Which would have been frustrating enough, had Dean’s teeth not started chattering five minutes ago. The shivering had reached a level so violent Dean couldn’t even hold the book he was reading anymore.

“Are you seriously not cold?” Dean asked, forcing the words past his clacking teeth.

Cas finally looked up, tilting his head to the side when he saw Dean shaking. “I’m an angel, we don’t get hot or cold. We’re just warm all the time.” And then, hesitantly, “Are you really that cold?”

Some days Dean wondered why he even had this unspoken crush on Cas. Dumbass angel. “Yes, Cas, I’m really that cold. There’s a massive blizzard outside, and, news flash, there’s no heating in here at all, which has got to be some kind of health hazard if you ask me.”

A weird expression crossed Cas’ face, as if he were mentally warring with himself over some decision before he stood up, grabbing his book.

“Where are you going? Can’t leave, remember? Snowed in,” Dean said, words barely getting past his teeth as he shivered.

A second later, Cas elegantly placed himself on the small couch and then looked over expectantly at Dean.

“What?” Dean asked, motioning to Cas in a ‘what are you doing’ manner, which made the blanket fall off his shoulders.

“Come here,” Cas said.

“What?” Dean asked, bending down to pick the blanket back up again; muttering curse words under his breath as another cold gust of air creeped down the collar of his shirt. “Why?”

Cas tilted his head again, regarding Dean carefully before saying, “Isn’t that what humans do? Sit close and share body warmth when it’s cold?”

Dean let out a choked noise, turning sharply to look at Cas. “You want to cuddle? Is that what you’re proposing?”

Cas chewed his lip for a second before nodding slowly. “If cuddling will help to share my body warmth so you’re not cold? Then yes, Dean, I want to cuddle.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to mentally war with himself. Stay over here and freeze his balls off? Or tuck himself up next to Cas and hope to God the angel wouldn’t be able to hear how fast his heart would be beating at that much physical contact?

‘Keep your stupid feelings in check, Winchester. It’s just about getting warm, that’s all,’ Dean thought to himself.

“Alright, fine. Just to warm up,” Dean said, even though he wasn’t sure if he was convincing Cas or himself of the blatant lie. Picking up the book he’d been researching, Dean moved over to the couch. He hesitated for half a second, before throwing his pride out of the window and sitting right next to Cas; pressing their hips and shoulders together.

Cas smiled softly, gingerly putting his arm around Dean’s shoulder and tugging him even closer, until Dean was all but sprawled out in Cas’ lap.

Dean was about to protest, he really was, but God, he could already feel Cas’ warmth seeping through his clothes and burning into his skin. “Jeez, you weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t cold,” Dean muttered, relaxing into Cas with a content sigh.

“Is that better?” Cas asked carefully, hand still lingering on Dean’s shoulder.

“Much better,” Dean admitted. Picking up his book again, Dean jumped back into researching, finally feeling warm for the first time in hours.

And it was that comforting warmth that Dean swore was the reason he could barely keep his eyes open half an hour later. Words were blurring across the page… and wait, when had he tucked his head into Cas’ shoulder? He could distantly feel Cas rubbing a hand up and down his spine in soothing circles; lulling him further into the sleepy haze.

“Cas,” Dean mumbled, the words ghosting out across the angel’s throat.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Thank you,” Dean murmured, pressing his lips to the underside of Cas’ jaw without thinking about it.

Cas instantly stiffened, before he darted his eyes to Dean in shock, then awe, then realization. Slowly, Cas tilted his head down, and Dean suddenly felt much more awake than he had been a moment ago as he leaned forward himself.

And when their lips finally met in a soft brush of a kiss, Dean felt warmth bursting through his body; lighting his veins on fire and sending tendrils of heat racing down his spine. Dean wasn’t sure if it was Cas pushing his Grace into the kiss to warm him up, or if the kiss was just that good that it had Dean glowing. Either way, Dean pulled Cas into a second kiss, and a third, and then a fourth.

And as he found himself pressing even closer to Cas, half straddling his waist as their mouths melded together from one kiss to the next, Dean had never felt so warm in his entire life.

#deancas #destiel december 2020 #spn #dailydestieldelights #bex writing

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what-do-1000-swords-look-like · 3 years

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I do love me some good breakup tension - scene 1 (15x06)

Yes, we already know Cas loves Dean here but like I’ve been saying all along, they really turned the burner on Destiel to an all-time high this season, to the point where it couldn’t be ignored. More proof in the pudding so to speak. Again, this is just my personal read/take on this.

This scene absolutely kills me:

(so the scene I had linked here vanished from YouTube, so I apologize but I can’t link it, it’s the scene from 15x06 where Cas is buying supplies for fishing in the beginning of the episode, and of course Dean and Cas’ phone call)

We know that Sam has been trying to text Cas with no response (earlier scene shown of said unanswered text messages), trying to figure out why Cas left in 15x03 without a word (which we now know the scene where Dean explains to Sam was cut). Not only is he trying to do an activity Dean has mentioned enjoying in the past, he’s gone radio silent on the Winchesters.

“I had a friend who...” - interesting way to put it, Cas. Yes, technically they’re in the middle of this “domestic dispute” as Jensen called it, but what breaks my heart is that while Cas is trying to get some space, he’s still pining for Dean here and it’s so obvious. They clearly meant to show it as romantic. Again, to those who still think his “I love you” in 15x18 was not romantic, look at this, look I tell you. *tapes your eye lids open & points to the screen*

This is a breakup. Not a brotherly battle or sibling fight, not a friend breakup, not a fight with a co-worker or your neighbor but a breakup. Just like Misha was told to play a “jilted lover” in 9x06, he is now playing the lover again, but this time the spurned lover. Leaving, trying to get space, do something meditative to try to move on, get that person off your mind... While also secretly hoping the other one will realize how they wronged you, will come begging for forgiveness or wanting to make things right, that they get how pissed/hurt you are but they don’t want to be without you so they’ll do whatever it takes to fix it... If I start to sound like a damn rom-com here, it’s not my fault, blame the story lol.

“Wish I’d found it more relaxing” Yeah, I bet he does because it’s not clearing his mind or taking his troubles away, not distracting him from thinking about the one thing “he knows he can’t have” (15x18).

The phone call comes next and as we know from Cas stating in season 8, he has excellent hearing, he’s a celestial being, so he already knows that Dean is the one on the phone. That’s why he turns his head away when the sheriff holds the phone up at first, looking like he wishes he could leave for a second before thinking it over. Sure enough, we see him reluctantly taking the call and acting like it’s the last thing he wants to do. He stares straight ahead at a spot on the wall and lets out a stiff “Hello” -- almost as if he is trying to make sure he’s stiff as a board, pure steel, not being affected whatsoever.

When Dean mentions Sam has been trying to get in touch with him, Cas says he knows. He’s not trying to be mean to Sam or to block him out, it’s because the one person he wants to be texting him nonstop and calling him is Dean. That’s why he’s not checking Sam’s messages.

When Cas lets out that quick and yet sassy “nope”, my first reaction was “oh damn, this really is a breakup, holy shit, where’s Eileen with that popcorn?” And now rewatching it, my God it’s just so obvious. This is forefront and center, it’s right in our faces. He wants Dean to know he’s not checking his phone, he wants him to know that he’s not looking at it whatsoever, that he’s so over it. (we know he’s not)

Dean tells him “smart, why would you?” Btw, do you notice that’s always Dean’s go to with Cas? A crack about him being stupid or smart (sarcastically, like here) or he’s a dumbass, especially when he’s really angry or worried? Just an interesting observation.

Before hanging up, Dean warns him to watch himself since Chuck is back, and tells him to check his damn messages. Again, Dean is showing his concern here. He literally used the whole FBI superior-agent-ruse-thingie to warn Cas about an impending danger and bypass the whole Cas ignoring them thing. And what is one thing that Dean has revealed in the past that he is not a fan of when it comes to Cas? When Cas ignores them, their voicemails or messages or prayers, or fails to check in, and why? Because it’s worrying (and Dean doesn’t like being ignored by Cas), something Dean has said more than once.

It’s not shown in this particular link (it got cut off at the end) but after Dean hangs up, Cas brings his sleeve up to his face for a second, looking like he’s wiping something or about to, and then continues as if Dean hasn’t just clicked off, to keep up the pretense for the sheriff, and then hangs up the phone. Cas is affected here as we know but it was more than just talking to Dean again, it was also Dean warning him about Chuck. Dean still cares and it gets to him.

They’re both still angry, still cooling off, both still in the throes of this big breakup, but they both still care about one another. And that’s shown through Cas fishing (and thinking of Dean, a friend he had) and Dean taking the opportunity to warn Cas about Chuck. He could have texted Cas that, he could have called him, but no, he did it right when Cas wouldn’t be able to argue back or hang up, when he had to listen. When he couldn’t ignore him or reject his calls or not answer his texts.

Romantic read, I tell you. God, this season was epic (well 90% of it), riddled with moments like these. It’s all about the framing, the editing, the acting, and the dialogue, my friends.

#destiel #deancas #cas loves dean #dean loves cas #dean x cas #destiel meta #the big breakup of 2019 #destiel breakup #spn rewatch #spnposts #destielposts #metaposts

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swift--fox · 3 years

Text

Day off

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH I wanted to make this a sort of surprise but I failed miserably. ANYWAY hope u like it i love u you outstanding funky lil dumbass celebrate somehow surviving another year!! (AGAIN please ignore the garbage title I’m so bad at this)

P/N: This is amazing, and I have been hoarding it for like a month (Totally not because I am terrible at remembering to post shit, shhhhhh) But THANK YOU GREY @pissbabydean!!! THIS IS AMAZING AND I LOVE IT!!

——

Dean woke up in a great mood. He was well-rested, perfectly sated from last night’s…activities, and they had the bunker to themselves today. He and Sam had agreed to taking a couple “off-days” a month just to keep tensions from building too high. Today was one of them, and Sam was taking Eileen out on a day trip to Colorado.

Dean rolled over and flopped on top of the warm body next to him, resulting in a sleep muddled grunt. He peppered a flurry of kisses across his boyfriends neck and cheeks, making obnoxious smooching noises as he went. Said boyfriend was now awake, if his sleepy murmurs of protest were anything to go by.

“‘M sleeping. Get off,” Cas mumbled, eyes still shut while he turned his head, blindly trying to evade Dean’s affections.

“No way, Grumpy. It’s almost 11, time to get up.” Dean crowed, leaning down to peck a kiss on the tip of his nose. Cas screwed his face up and twisted underneath him, unseating the hunter without breaking a sweat. He buried his face into the pillow with a satisfied sigh.

Dean could almost forget how strong Cas was, seeing as he rarely showcased it. He only really used it on hunts or when they were hooking up - in both instances Dean’s brain was usually too preoccupied to really take note.

Regardless, Dean had to uphold his reputation as Incredibly Annoying Alarm Clock, otherwise Cas could sleep until 2pm. Which was weird, because angels didn’t even need sleep. Cas just really really liked it, which was all fun and games when Dean could wake up in the arms of his angel and maybe even lay there with him until his growling stomach could no longer be ignored. Now, it was more annoying than anything. At least he could have fun waking him up.

He crawled back over and straddled Cas’s bare back, resulting in a muffled “Uff” into the pillow.

“Caaas, c’mon, dontcha want to spend time with your loving boyfriend? Who makes amazing pancakes? And who you love so very dearly?”

A dismissive grunt was all Dean received in way of an answer. Dean leaned forward and licked a fat stripe across the top of Cas’s tanned shoulder. He shuddered once and that was the only response he got before Cas stilled again. He wormed his tongue up Cas’s warm neck and traced the shell of his ear with it, making lewd moaning noises right in his boyfriend’s ear.

“Gross,” He protested as he reached back to blindly swat at Dean’s face. The perpetrator just chuckled and avoided the half-hearted protest, nipping on his fleshy earlobe.

“You love it,” He teased.

“Not when you have morning breath,” Cas rebutted. Dean hummed dismissively and continued his minstriations.

Cas didn’t mind enough to put up an actual fight, but he did mind enough that his will-power was slowly diminishing. Then, a tongue snaked into his ear and he shrieked, nearly throwing Dean off the bed while he escaped the disturbing sensation. Dean was folded over with laughter, cackling into the bedsheets while he glowered.

“You’re disgusting and cruel. Go make me pancakes,” He groused, using the hem of Dean’s discarded t-shirt to wipe out the wetness in his ear. Dean, who was still laughing, came over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Comin’ right up,” He grinned. It was hard to stay mad at him, especially with a smile like that. Cas could still act the part, though.

After brushing his teeth and putting on a clean shirt, Castiel ambled into the kitchen, which was flooded with the scent of cooking batter and fresh-brewed coffee. The table was already set, his favorite mug filled to the brim with dark liquid. He sat down and immediately began nursing the bitter beverage while he watched Dean man the stove, quietly humming to himself.

Castiel was an angel. He didn’t need to eat, just like he didn’t need to sleep. Unlike sleeping, though, he didn’t particularly enjoy eating. Mostly, if it wasn’t Dean cooking for him, he wouldn’t eat. Not much was worth the overwhelming tsunami of flavor and texture from each individual molecule and building block of whatever he was consuming. But Dean’s satisfied little smile and shining eyes were.

Pancakes weren’t the worst for him to eat, but they certainly weren’t good by any means. He found that foods containing eggs were largely unpleasant. But Dean always made him a heart-shaped pancake, and Cas’s chest always did those happy little swoops when he caught Dean watching him eat it.

They finished breakfast and Castiel washed the dishes while Dean dried, then Cas was left to sit on the couch while Dean showered. He reached over to grab his latest read - The Crooked House, which he’d flown to the public library to borrow a few days ago in anticipation of their off-day. He opened up to the yellowed, well-loved first page and quickly lost himself in the rolling plot.

Dean had come to join him some time ago, stray droplets dripping from his hair to the shoulders of his t-shirt. He slid his way over to the couch suavely, socked feet gliding easily over the smooth flooring. If he wasn’t so focused on his book, he would have noticed Dean’s little huff of annoyance that Cas had missed his grand entrance.

And thus began Dean Winchester’s unabashed quest for attention from his angel boyfriend. It started with an incessant amount of talking.

“Heyyy, Cas, whatcha doin’? He drawled in a very successful imitation of Isabella from Phineas and Ferb (What? It’s not like Cas would get the reference. Slim pickin’s on Netflix these days).

“Reading,” Came Castiel’s curt reply as he turned a page. Dean’s mouth fell open in an overexaggerated “aaahhhh,” noise.

“Cool. Whatcha readin’?”

“The Crooked House. It’s a murder-myster novel where a young woman’s-”

“Cool, cool. So, whaddya say about a little TV? Ever watched Schitt’s Creek?” Dean cut him off purposefully, gesturing at the TV. The picture of innocence, if you didn’t count the faint upwards tug of the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t mind if you watch something,” He replied noncommittally. Dean narrowed his eyes a fraction and tossed the remote aside.

“Okay, no Netflix. So, what should we do, then?”

Castiel shrugged and flicked the page. “I’m reading. You can do what you like, Dean - it’s your day off.”

Dean collapsed against the couch with a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up in the air.

“It’s our day off, babe. As in, together. Let’s do something,” He whined.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Dean sat up excitedly, but Cas held up a finger. “…after I’m done reading.”

Dean’s face fell and he crossed his arms against his chest. He wasn’t pouting but he wasn’t not pouting, either.

“Come on, dude, you got, like, the whole book still! Watch something stupid and funny with me! Don’t you love me?”

“I do. And you love me, which is why you’ll let me finish my book in peace.”

Dean huffed and muttered complaints under his breath. He hated it when Cas turned his own words against him. It was just unfair.

Dean could be unfair, too.

He started clicking his tongue obnoxiously loud, humming nonsensical tunes to himself, tapping loudly on the end tables with his finger tips. He watched the angel carefully for any reaction to his antics but damn, he knew Cas was good. He would have to up his game.

Then he started singing. Loudly. Badly. Voice cracks and all.

“Oh Danny boyyyyyy, the pipes, the pipes are ca-a-allingggggg~”

There was a minute twitch in Cas’s jaw and the grip he had on the cover of the book was a lot tighter than necessary. He was getting somewhere.

“From glen to glennnnnnnnnn, and down the mountain siiiii-”

His mouth was suddenly clamped shut. Lips pressed together, like if he weren’t speaking at all. But he had been, and he was trying to. He tried to speak, to do anything, but no sound came out.

“Perhaps vocal lessons would be a good investment for you, Dean.” Cas commented off-handedly, and then paused in thought. “Or ear-plugs for the rest of us,”

Dean glowered at the nonchalant angel on the other end of the couch and shifted, shoving his legs unceremoniously into Cas’s lap, making sure to jostle the book in his hands with his calf.

He knew Cas knew what he was asking for. HAnd Cas knew he knew that he knew what Dean was asking for. e was just being an asshole for reasons unknown (okay, unknown if you didn’t count the way Dean woke him up that morning. And how he’d scared him in the shower the previous morning).

Where Dean had been glaring a hole into the wall just past Castiel, he noticed that the book was…levitating. Where were Cas’s hands?

He got his answer a second later when he felt fingers press against the arch of his foot. He tensed and a little ribbon of excitement coiled in his chest. He thought he was getting what he asked for. He was wrong.

Cas’s fingers were…devastating, in all the wrong ways. Just barely brushing his fingertips in sweeping ovals on his heel, occasionally poking his arch or instep. It wasn’t enough to warrant laughter, or even really much squirming. It was just on the precipice, and Dean fucking hated it.

And then Cas decided to get meaner. He would drag a deliberate finger down his sole and as quickly as his nerves could flare up with tingly delight, the sensation was promptly rubbed away by strong, soothing hands. It was a terrible, cruel, sadistic, almost-tickly-but-not massage.

Dean scowled and leaned forward to thwack Cas on the shoulder, though not too convincingly. Despite it not being what he wanted, Cas was a talented (if incredibly mean) masseuse. Dean was putty in his hands, and not the giggly kind. Ugh.

Cas was still reading his stupid murder book, the creased and worn old book was hovering a few inches from his face, the pages turning on their own. Seriously, how did this guy have enough concentration to do three things with his grace at once?

“What is it, Dean? What more could you possibly have to complain about? I’m giving you the attention you were so desperate for.”

Dean harrumphed and glared at his angel, pointedly jostling the feet in his lap. Cas would have found it cute if it wasn’t so annoying. He continued his infuriating game while Dean’s mouth stayed zipped shut with grace, all he could do was move into the touch - and for every bit he did, Castiel pulled back the same. It was goddamn psychological warfare.

Then, there was a…prodding. On his right bottom-most rib, through his shirt. Which could only mean one thing. Dean would, technically, be getting what he wanted. But in the most impersonal and - there was that word again - infuriating way possible. It was more of an itch, really. But the fact he couldn’t scratch it was why he started squirming and kicking his legs out. Castiel was not amused and then Dean realized that he wasn’t moving anymore. He was sending the signals to his muscles to move and thrash and, in general, be a nuisance. His body just wasn’t responding and it took Dean a second too late to register the faint self-satisfied smirk on the other man’s face before the incredibly thin and spindly wire of grace was curling and flossing between each individual rib.

Though, now, he could laugh. And he did. He imagined he would have thrown his head back if he could while he shrieked and full-belly laughter tumbled from his newly-functioning vocal chords. But, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t wiggle, couldn’t shake his head or even clench his fists. He couldn’t do anything that even alluded to a struggle and he couldn’t decide if he liked that added layer of vulnerability or not.

Then, the spindle of grace turned more into a…tickly lash. The thing with using grace for tickling, (like a filthy cheater, because grace is so unfair for this very reason) is that it doesn’t quite follow the rules. With a wave-length of celestial intent behind the wheel, it was lethal.

The cruel extension of his power flicked across his chest, leaving behind a swarm of buzzing nerves. It migrated to his neck, his underarms, his belly - Jesus, even his thighs. His laughter was jumpy and bright and desperate, because he didn’t know where the next strike would be.

His question was answered when the malicious tendrils of grace brushed the crease of his thighs. The laughter Cas drew from there was wholly consuming and embarrassing. Cackling, you could call it. Howling may be a more accurate descriptor.

Dean waited for the electric tingling of his nerves to taper off, but it didn’t come. Cas didn’t stop.

If it wasn’t before, Dean’s laughter had definitely turned desperate. Gasps and sobs and choked attempts at words and all.

“C-CAS!” He all but screamed, and the rest of what he would say slipped through the cracks of his crumbling mind. His boyfriend, although sadistic, knew when to stop. Or slow things down, at least. The weapon his thighs were previously assaulted with moved to converge on his stomach, ribbons swirling around the softer center like a goddamn merry-go-round.

Occasionally one of said ribbons would deviate from the rest to wiggle into his belly button - which would add a squeaky quality to his giggling. At least now he could think, although the laughter that was coming out of his mouth (that could only be described as giggling, much to his dismay) was embarrassing enough that it was hard to find this an act of mercy.

“Yes, Dean?”

"Me-Mehehercyy!” He pleaded. His lungs were starting to ache, as well as the rest of him, from laughing so hard. Although, it was a nice feeling, Dean enjoyed the feeling of complete bone-deep exhaustion after he and Cas’s sessions. Still, he needed a break. Cas’s book finally was placed on the end table and he smiled over at Dean fondly with a short nod.

When Dean regained control of his body, the first thing he did was fold forward and press his forehead to Cas’s thigh, panting out the last of his residual laughter. A warm and firm hand rubbed soothing circles into his back and Dean leaned into the heavenly touch.

“You were mean,” Dean whined, no real accusation behind his words. He felt Cas chuckle more than he heard it, and he was being guided to collapse in his lap again. This time, his upper-half was splayed across the sweatpant-clad legs and he was face down, cheek pressed against the top of Cas’s thigh. He sighed and immediately molded himself to the warm body under him.

“I was, wasn’t I? What would you like?”

Dean hummed and reached behind him blindly for Cas’s hands.

“Touch me.”

A blissfully wam palm flattened in the center of Dean’s back and began rubbing once again, the same soothing circles, but now under the shirt.

“Is this good?”

Dean thought for a moment.

“Light.” Was all he could manage, as his brain was currently tickled-out mush.

Cas made his hand into more of a relaxed claw and dragged the pads of his fingers and occasionally the edges of his blunt fingernails of the pliant and receptive planes of Dean’s back. The hunter let out a herculean sigh as every bit of stress was drawn out of his body by his caring and meticulous angel. Damn, he’d have to annoy Cas more often.

#submission #supernatural #Destiel #ticklish!dean #dean is a nuisance #Cas loves it tho #he pretends to hate it #but really

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deathbidean · 3 years

Text

my destiel fic recs

okay i don’t know about y’all but i’ve been absolutely binging all of my old fics and desperately trying to find new ones, so i figured i’d share some of my favourites with y’all

Broadway Musical - Griftings : The romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general. I cannot tell y’all how good this is, it’s my literal comfort fic I read it at least once a month.

Assimilation - komodobits : Mary always thought you were supposed to be able to tell. That you could just look at someone and know they were – you know. One of that sort. It’s not supposed to happen to her son. this will break your heart but it’s so beautfully written and just sad :(

One White Lie - komodobits : Castiel takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t need to run through what he’s going to say – he’s already planned and edited and rehearsed it a thousand times. He is going to ask Dean Winchester out to dinner. If it’s not too forward, he’ll say, perfectly charming. You see, I’ve seen you around the neighbourhood and you always seem so earnest and I’d really like to get to know you bette— The door swings open, and Castiel panics.He intends to excuse himself. He means to apologise and come back some other time. However, in a moment of blind fear, what comes out of his mouth instead are the words, “Could you spare a moment for Jesus Christ?” When i tell you i die from embarrassment and cuteness everytime i read this, i’m not lying.

Castiel Novak’s Office, This is Dean - emmbrancsxxo : Dean Winchester is an executive assistant at an advertising agency. On the day his boss retires, he has an unforgettable one night stand with a new hire, Castiel Novak. The problem: turns out Cas is his new boss. AMAZING!! seriously my god it’s so unbelievably good and sweet and dumb and i love it

all my goodness is gone now with you [15x09 coda] - emmbrancsxxo : There was an odd sort of symmetry to it. This is how their story began: Dean climbing out of a coffin. This is how their story would end: Castiel being put into one. okay no this one really hurt but it’s so beautiful that it’s worth it

one million fires burning - dothraki_shieldmaiden : Dean Winchester teaches three classes a day, tutors after school, and chairs the English Department for Lawrence High School. He does enough. Unfortunately, his boss doesn't feel the same and informs him that he has a new job: co-coaching the school's trivia team. His co-coach? None other than the school's golden boy, Castiel Milton. Who Dean can't stand, for various reasons, all of which are valid, thank you very much. And the fact that Dean can't stop talking about the stick up Cas's, sorry, Milton's ass? Completely irrelevant. this is so fun and sweet and typical Dean being a dumbass!

Dislocation - 6or3dom : And then Castiel finally reunites with Dean.And there is something about Dean.Something about Dean that has Dean pulling Castiel into tight embraces, something about Dean that has Dean running his thumb across Castiel’s cheek with a tender look in his eyes, and something about Dean that has Dean shaking when Castiel says certain things to him, things that are normal, things that should not affect him this way.There is something about Dean that no one is telling him. this hollowed out my chest and hurt so goddamn much but it’s so so worth it

ex nunc. : Death: one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The beginning, and the end. Neutrality at its finest. And neither he nor God can remember anymore who was created first; neither care to. Death is a lonely creature by nature. His other Horsemen are there to help ease the weight of the cross he carries on his shoulder, but sometimes it isn’t enough. Sometimes, he thinks he’s beyond saving. OR: Where TFW (and Crowley) are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. again, this is so beautifully written and so tragic but lovely all the same

Swimming - frozen-delight : "And then you'd kill the angel Castiel, now that one, that I suspect would hurt something awful." In his dreams Dean goes swimming. Sometimes Cas joins him. [Tag for 10x14 "The Executioner's Song". Cas/Dean pre-slash.] a common theme but yes it’s very sad and yes it is beautiful. just general moc Dean hurt.

pt.2 , pt.3

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banshee1013 · 4 years

Text

Suptober Day 13 - Ladies

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Jody, Donna, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

========================================================

CHAPTER EIGHT - LADIES

Words: 2191

“Next exit, Dean.”

He’s keeping his voice carefully neutral, projecting calm - but Dean knows better.

Cas is beside himself with excitement.

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

They had stopped for lunch at a little diner in Myers Flats the day before, when Dean realized how close they were to the giant redwoods. They finished their meal and spent the rest of the day driving the Avenue of the Giants, stopping at several locations to explore or take pictures; even driving through the Shrine Drive-Thru Tree (which of course, Dean had to get a picture of Baby parked inside the Tree, immediately sending it to Sam).

It was a wonderful day, spent among beautiful ancient trees - but inside, Dean was freaking out.

Fuckin’ dumbass. How could you have just BLURTED it out like that??

It’s not that Dean regretted the question - not by a long shot - and was absolutely over the moon about Cas’ response.

But the way it had come out… UGH.

So, while outwardly Dean enjoyed the drive and the trees, and Cas among the trees (“Some of these trees are over two thousand years old, Dean!”) - internally, he was desperately trying to figure out a way of correcting his incredible proposal faux pas.

Adding to his anxiety over the whole thing - Cas hadn’t mentioned it again.

Not a peep. Not a word.

They spent the night in a cozy little cabin at a motor lodge in Phillipsville, both so exhausted they fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

The next morning, Dean had woken up to Cas coming back in the room, two steaming cups of coffee and some danishes from the motel office in his hands - and positively vibrating with excitement.

Setting the coffee and danish on the nightstand, he thrusts a brochure at him.

“While I was waiting for the coffee to finish percolating, I struck up a conversation with the proprietor,” Cas explained, “ and when I mentioned we were headed south she informed me about a large accumulation of wineries near our route. She showed me a rack of informational pamphlets on these wineries, and I found this one!” He gleefully pointed at the name on the brochure - ‘Beehave Winery’. “They make mead there, Dean!”

Dean vaguely recalls the term - isn’t that what they drank at Camelot or something?

Cas correctly interpreted the look on his face - “Honey wine, Dean!” He plucked the brochure from Dean’s hand, opening it and thrusting an eager finger inside. “And they have their own beehives!”

Well, beehives. Of course they were going to stop there.

Cas must have taken Dean’s silence as protest, his eyes dropping and his voice taking on a pleading tone.

“I know it’s farther inland, and that you wished to turn off onto Highway 1 in Leggett (Cas knew Dean’s route better than Dean did at this point), and I know you prefer beer to wine...”

Dean reached a hand to his chin, lifting it up to look into his eyes. “Hey, hey… it’s fine!” He set the brochure on the bed and stood, gathering Cas into his arms. “This trip isn’t just about me, sweetheart. We can do whatever we both want.”

Cas buried his face in Dean’s neck and sighed happily. “So, we can go see the bees, then?”

Dean laughed and pulled away, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “Of course we can. Wine has alcohol, I can get behind that.”

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

Cas peers at the map on the brochure, brows pinched in concentration.

“Turn left onto Silverado Trail.”

Dean takes the exit and turns left, following Cas’ directions. They pass a number of wineries with names like ‘Black Stallion Winery’ and ‘Reynolds Family Winery’, or fancier ones like ‘Signorello Estates’ and ‘Clos du Val’. Parking lots full of cars and wine tour buses, the road lined with grape vines as far as the eye can see.

“There! There it is!” Cas points excitedly at the sign for the winery by a small road leading up to a group of buildings off the road. Dean turns onto it and drives up to the parking lot, pulling into a spot next to another of the ubiquitous wine tour buses.

Cas hops out of the car and comes around to the drivers side, taking Dean’s hand and all but pulling him from the car in his eagerness. Dean laughs and squeezes Cas’ hand, slowing him down so he can close and lock the Impala.

“Calm down, angel. The bees aren’t going anywhere.”

As they approach the group of buildings, the buzz of voices reaches them, light and happy. They follow the sound to the tasting room, where a small but enthusiastic crowd is gathered around a long counter. A… bartender, Dean guesses… pours a light amber wine into an empty wine glass, passing it to one of the waiting customers, a bubbly blonde. A second bartender pours her companion - a slight, salt-and-pepper haired woman - a darker reddish wine into her glass. They turn to each other and tap the glasses together with a bright clink.

“Cheers, Jodes!”

Dean stops dead in his tracks, his arm yanked hard by Cas who’s attention is on the corner of the room full of bee and honey paraphernalia.

“Dean…?” Cas turns to see what brought Dean up short and follows his gaze.

“Is that… Sheriff Mills and Sheriff Hanscum?”

The ladies turn towards them… and it’s Jody who recognizes them first.

“D-Dean? Dean Winchester?” she says, stammering in surprise.

“What about Dean?” Donna asks before following Jody’s shocked gaze. “Oh my! DEANO!”

She all but launches herself at him, Dean dropping Cas’ hand just before she envelopes him in a huge bear hug.

Cas manages to grab the wine glass from her hand before it ends up all over Dean’s back, as Jody approaches at a more sedate pace. “And Castiel! What brings you boys to Napa Valley?” She quickly lowers her voice. “You boys on a case? Where’s Sam?”

Dean extricates himself from Donna and turns to give Jody a warm hug. “No, no case - Cas and I are on a road trip,” he says, laughing at the expression on Cas’ face as Donna squishes him as well. He rescues Donna’s wine glass in turn, and hands it back to her when she’s done mauling Cas.

A flurry of conversation erupts - “Fancy meeting you here!” “What are you ladies doing out here?” “How are you boys?” “Dean and I are doing quite well, thank you.”

“So, where’s Sam?” Jody asks again, accompanying Dean and Cas as they head to the counter to get their own glasses of wine.

“He and Eileen are… hunting. Yeah, that’s it.” Dean waggles his eyebrows at Jody.

Donna bursts into a gale of laughter. “Oh I betcha that’s what they’re doin’!”

“C’mon, let’s getcha some wine and let’s go find a place to catch up.”

Dean gets a glass of the dark red wine, Cas the amber one, and they head to a table in the corner, away from the noise of the bar.

“So, what are you doing here?” Dean asks them again.

“Oh, we’re here on a wine retreat - ‘Cops and Corks’.” Donna jabs a thumb back at the group gathered around the bar. “I dragged Jodes here last year and we liked it so much, we came back!” She points between them. “What’s this I hear about a road trip?”

“There has not been very much activity since Chuck left,” Cas explains. “There’s still the occasional hunt but Sam and Eileen took the last one, and Dean was bored.” He takes a sip of his wine and his eyebrows raise.

Dean chuckles. “Like that, do ya, sweetheart?” His eyes immediately go wide as he realizes he just outed themselves... to Jody and Donna.

The girls don’t even blink an eye. “That’s really great,” Jody says, her voice warm. “You guys deserve it.”

Dean isn’t sure if she’s talking about the trip… or his inadvertent admission.

But… would it be such a big deal if they did know? Donna and Jody are family.

And Dean was done hiding his affection… his love… for Cas.

He reaches for Cas’ hand and gives it a squeeze. Cas turns and the smile he gives Dean lights up the room.

The conversation continues on from there - the girls are doing well; Alex has finished nursing school and is doing her residency now; Patience is still having visions but not as much anymore, she’s off to college and doing well; and Claire is still… well, Claire. Still going on the occasional hunt, still missing Kaia. Cas’ face falls at this news and vows to visit with her, turning to Dean for support and Dean nodding in agreement.

And for some reason, the motion of Cas looking to him like that brings back the anxiety of the botched proposal.

Their wine glasses are empty, and Dean sure could use another (although he’ll never admit to actually liking it - if asked, it’s just alcohol. But it’s actually pretty tasty).

“Who’s up for another round? I”m buyin’.” Donna and Cas are in deep conversation over the applications of knives over guns or something, but both absently raise a quick hand.

Jody tilts her head, her look inscrutable. “Sure, I could use another. Need a hand?”

Dean realizes that yes, he could use a hand - and not just with the wine. He nods and they set off towards the bar, empty glasses in hand.

“So spill, Winchester. What’s eatin’ you?” Jody asks as soon as they’re out of earshot.

Dean swallows nervously. “Well, I kind a spilled the beans about me and Cas back there…”

Jody takes both wine glasses in one hand and places her free one on his bicep, giving a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, and I’m glad.” She snorts and drops her hand. “And frankly, it’s about damn time.” She arches an eyebrow at him. “So, what of it?”

They reach the bar and place their orders. Dean sighs.

“Jody, I fucked up.”

Jody’s brows pinch in concern. “How so?” She looks back at the table, and Dean follows her gaze. Cas looks up at them, gives him a soft smile and a wave. Dean waves back, his heart in his throat.

Damn it, he loves Cas so much. How could he have fucked up so bad?

“Doesn’t look like he thinks so.”

Dean turns back to Jody, shoulders sagging. “Jody, I proposed to him.”

Jody’s eyes light up and she lightly punches his arm. “You dog! Congrats!” Then her face falls. “Oh, shit… he said yes, right?”

“Yeah, he said yes.”

Jody squints, puzzled. “So, how did you fuck up?” Her eyes grow hard. “You better have meant it.”

Dean’s eyes snap to hers. “Yeah… hell, yeah, I meant it!” He bites his lip and sighs. “But… I just blurted it out, Jody. No grand gesture, no nothin’. Just ‘Cas, marry me’. UGH”

He startles at Jody’s sudden peal of laughter, then grabbing his arm. “Oh Dean, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” She stops laughing but her eyes are still dancing. “So, he said yes, right?”

“Yeah….?”

“Then you didn’t fuck up, Dean!” She gives his arm another squeeze. “You did just fine!”

“But…”

“NO BUTS,” she cuts him off sternly. “He said yes. You’re golden.”

“Jody, he hasn’t said anything about it since I asked.” Dean feels a pang in his chest - saying it out loud making his anxiety all that more real.

She shrugs. “Dean, he’s an ex-angel. They’re very literal creatures. He probably thinks it’s a done deal.” Then, she chuckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks you’re married already.”

Dean gives a wan laugh, and picks up his and Cas’ refilled wine glasses, Jody grabbing hers and Donna’s; and they head back to the table.

The uncertainty is backing off some, but there’s still some lingering doubt, and Jody’s mom instincts must pick up on it.

“Listen, Dean. Just because you asked and he said yes, doesn’t mean you can’t ask again - you could still do the grand gesture if it’s what you want to do.” She jostles his arm with an elbow. “I’ve seen how he looks at you, I’m pretty certain you’ll get the same answer.”

They rejoin Cas and Donna at the table. Jody hands Donna her glass, taking a sip from her own.

Dean sets the wine glasses down, and spins Cas around, pulling him into his arms.

“Love you, Cas,” he murmurs into his ear.

Cas squeezes Dean back. “I love you too, Dean. Always.”

“Ohmigosh, you two, get a room!” Donna chortles loudly, and Jody almost chokes on her wine.

Dean feels every bit of anxiety and uncertainty drain from him, and he laughs joyfully, leaning back in Cas’ arms. Cas’ smile is warm and wide, his eyes shining with love.

Releasing Cas but keeping an arm around his waist to hold him close, Dean raises his glass.

“To friends and family,” he intones, then looks down into Cas’ bright eyes.

“And to the future.”

He hears the glasses click as Donna, Jody, and Cas tap their glasses to his raised one, but he only has eyes for Cas.

#suptober20 #fic #art #Destiel #jody #donna #bees #wine

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languesbians · 3 years

Text

How I’d have liked Supernatural to end

This is intended as an extension to 15x19, set after Jack’s speech about being present in all things etc. Also I wrote it as a story outline rather than a prose fanfic, hence the shifts in framing.

Two weeks later

Dean is alone in the bunker's kitchen, peeling potatoes. He looks pensive. Sam walks in.

Sam: "Hey man, you okay?"

Dean: "Yeah, I just... I wish Cas was here, you know? I don't know if I can do this on my own."

Sam moves in to reassure him, patting him on the shoulder. "It'll be okay. I know it will.”

Half an hour or so passes. We're still with Dean in the kitchen, but he now has a large bowl of mashed potatoes and a pile of peelings, which he sweeps into a bin. Close-up on his hands as he carries the bowl towards the kitchen door. The other side of the bowl is suddenly grabbed by a pair of hands.

"These potatoes look great, Dean." It's the guy they were just talking out, alive and well. We zoom out to see that he's wearing his trademark trenchcoat.

"Yeah, I just wish you'd been there earlier. I had to peel like, a hundred potatoes on my own."

Cas looks into the bowl with a 'himbo angel who doesn't understand exaggeration' expression. "This doesn't look like a hundred potatoes." He holds that face for a couple of second before his lips curl up slightly at the corners; he's just teasing Dean.

"Dumbass" Dean says, smiling affectionately. "What's with the beige, anyway?" he asks, gesturing at the trenchcoat. "You gonna start wearing that old thing again?"

"Only on special occasions. [beat] It reminds me of when we first met, remember?" He leans forward into Dean's personal space, imitating that 'mean angel' we remember from the barn all those years ago.

Dean's face is torn between his affection for Cas’ sappiness and his amusement at the S4!Cas impression. "Alright feathers, no chick flick moments." He pecks Cas on the lips and grabs a bowl of vegetables from the counter before they both walk out of the kitchen.

Up until now there’s been no ambient noise, but it turns out the sound guy has been deceiving us - the bunker's main room/foyer/whatever is actually full of noise and people. They're all sitting around a big table laden with food, chatting and laughing. At the centre of the table is a roast turkey: it's Thanksgiving.

There’s a lot going on - Charlie is showing off some cool computer shit to Claire, Kaia and Patience while her girlfriend watches; Eileen is pointing at different food items and teaching Bobby and Donna how to sign them; Sam and Jody are opening cards from friends - we see the names ‘Fitzgerald’ and ‘Rosen’, among others.

Dean and Cas sit down next to each other in the middle of the table, Sam and Eileen on the other side. Dean dings a glass for attention and stands up. He's about to speak when a thunderous crash erupts from the direction of the sky. Immediately the whole table switches to Hunter Mode - they jump up, take out concealed weapons and go on full alert, although those nearest to Bobby are slightly distracted at the sight of him pulling an angel blade from the turkey.

"Sorry, I still haven't worked out how to stop that happening” says a voice. It turns out the noise was merely heralding a rare event - Jack is walking the Earth again, for the first time since defeating Chuck. The youngest Winchester is on the balcony by the bunker’s front door, looking slightly sheepish. Everyone stands at ease again, looking slightly annoyed and putting their weapons back away. (The camera shows the whole table at once, so unless you're paying attention you won't notice Donna preventing Bobby from angel-blading the turkey again.)

"Oh by the way - I've brought a guest, if that's okay. All the way from the depths of Hell."

"Happy Thanksgiving, boys" says Rowena, stepping out from behind him. The two of them head down the stairs: Sam, Dean and Cas take turns embracing Jack while Rowena greets everyone else. For the next minute or two everyone hugs the newcomers and Rowena is introduced to those who haven’t met her yet - Claire in particular is fascinated and asks Rowena to sit next to her, eager to badger her with questions about what it’s like being the bisexual Queen of Hell.

Eventually they're all sat back down except Dean, who's holding a wine glass ready to make a toast. The glass, of course, is filled with beer.

"You all know I'm not a fan of long speeches, so this isn't gonna be one of those. [beat] I just wanted to say that I am so, so grateful for all of you guys. For my brother and his fiancée. For my angel and our son.” He gently tousles Cas’ hair. “For my grumpy adoptive dad and my lesbian friend - both versions of them." Charlie and Bobby nod their heads in recognition of their absent other selves. "For Jody, Donna and the kids; for Rowena; and for everyone we lost along the way. Without you guys I wouldn't be here - hell, this whole universe wouldn't be here. So I'd lke to raise a toast."

He's gradually getting more and more choked up. "To Bobby, Charlie, Adam, Kelly, Jessica, Benny, Jo, Ellen, Rufus, Pamela, Meg, Kevin, Gabriel, Crowley, Ketch, Jimmy... and to Mom." He takes a second to steady himself, then raises his head and his glass. "To family."

Everyone repeats back, "To family" as they all drink. Cas looks lovingly up at his boyfriend and gently touches his arm as Dean starts to carve the turkey. Everyone else gets back to chatting and laughing. Vegetables and sauces are handed round while Cas proudly serves Charlie and her girlfriend slices of a vegetarian pastry dish as his voice cuts through the babble: "I made this specially for you guys." It’s kind of a mess because he hasn’t learnt how to cook yet, but they’re grateful nonetheless.

All the while the camera is slowly zooming out and eventually the conversation starts to grow quieter, replaced by a solo piano version of the opening "Wayward Son" chorus.

Cut to black as the final note plays.

#spn #supernatural #i really enjoyed writing this!#idk if charlie is canonically vegetarian but i like it in the story so #spn fanfic #destiel

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normalrelativity · 3 years

Text

Space

[light angst with fluff, 1.5k words, read on Ao3]

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel Rating: Teen and up audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings apply Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy Additional tags: Not Canon Compliant, post 15x19, light angst, happy ending, fluff, Dean Winchester needs therapy, but cas is doing his best

Summary: After Dean tells Cas he needs some space, a newly human Cas does his best.

“It’s the natural order-”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit!“

“You need to realize we can’t just hold their hands out there-“

“And you need to teach those fucking kids better!” Dean shouted across the war table at Sam, whose jaw had been clenched and eyes cast to the side for the better part of the argument. They’d just gotten back from burning the second body in a month, both fairly new hunters, and Dean was fed up. Most everyone else had already gone to bed after a long day at the bar—Dean had shut the place down and it had been a true hunter’s wake—leaving the two of them alone to finally hash this out.

“They’re not bad hunters, Dean!” Sam argued, sounding exasperated and defensive. He almost looked like he wanted to cry. “How many good hunters did we watch-“ he stopped abruptly after a severe look from his older brother, resignation settling over his features. “We’re trying the best we can. First thing tomorrow, Eileen and I will sit down and figure something out.”

“You’d better,” Dean warned, turning away from Sam and stomping off in the direction of his room. The natural order of things, Dean thought. Even though he knew Jack was trying to rebuild heaven and the count wasn’t so severely skewed anymore, it was still hard for Dean to accept losing people. Especially people who’d trusted them.

When he turned the corner into his room, he shucked his jacket off and hung it up on the rack beside the door. Cas was stretched out on the bed reading, back propped up against the headboard and legs crossed at his ankles. His hair was slightly tousled and he was wearing a grey t-shirt and red flannel pajama pants. Part of Dean still had a hard time adjusting to seeing Cas in clothes that weren’t his suit and trench coat. “Are you okay?” Cas asked as he turned the page of the book he was reading, and it was only then that Dean realized he’d been looking a little bit too long. He huffed out a sound that was barely more than a mumble and Cas closed the book, carefully placing it on the nightstand.

“What?” Dean asked when he saw the way Cas was looking at him, fingers folded together in his lap and head tilted slightly to the side. “And don’t tell me you’re going to side with him.”

Cas shook his head, brows furrowed. Dean wished he would have said something. After a few more beats of silence, that wish was granted. “It’s not your fault, Dean. Those boys—their deaths aren’t on you or your brother.”

Practically deflating at that, Dean’s hands sought out the back of his desk chair and he used it to prop himself up. As he looked around, trying to mentally find the words he was looking for, his gaze landed on the soot that still coated his forearms and he set his jaw. “No, they are. Sure, they wanted in this life and knew the risks, but we can do better. We’ve got to do better.”

“Dean-“

“No, I am sick and tired of losing people young!” He heard the way his own voice had boomed out of him. Cas didn’t flinch, didn’t make any indication of being upset or otherwise affected by the volume, but Dean still felt guilty for having yelled at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, straightening his back and running his hands over his face.

Cas sighed, leaning forward a little. “What do you need, Dean?”

In all honesty, he’d been thrown off by the question. It wasn’t really a matter of what he needed--other than for people to just stop dying, but that didn’t seem very likely any time soon. “I don’t—I don’t know, Cas. I think I just need a little space right now,” he sighed, raising his arms to take another layer off. “I’m gonna go shower.”

The water ran over him, steaming and loud against the quiet of the bathroom until the muscles in his shoulders relaxed and he was warm all over. As he turned the water off, he briefly wondered how big the water heaters in the bunker were--he couldn’t recall ever running out of hot water. Seeing his reflection in the mirror pulled him out of that thought. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than normal and he ran the towel in his hands over his face and up through his hair to keep himself from focusing on how tired he looked. Instead, he pulled on his robe over his t-shirt and boxers and padded back to his room.

This time, the former angel was nowhere to be found. Dean sank down onto the bed, shaking his head and actively trying to keep the panic at bay. What had he said to him before he left the room earlier? Something about needing space? He scoffed, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. “Not that much space, dumbass,” he said to the empty room as if that would summon Cas back. When it didn’t, he reached over for his phone to try to call him.

No sooner did he have his phone unlocked and Cas’s contact pulled up than Cas walked back through the door with a cardboard box in his hands. The photo on the outside showed a small orb that had been 3-D printed to resemble the moon, but the real effect was given when the light on the inside was turned on and the craters and hills were illuminated against the otherwise smooth surface.

“I got you the moon. Sort of. It’s the best I can do, under the circumstances.” The joke jarred Dean out of the mood he was in and he blinked at the box for a few seconds. The lines on his face smoothed out a little as his tense expression melted away into fondness for the man standing in front of him. “You know, Earth had been the main show, but watching the creation of the moon was fascinating,” Cas mused, long fingers prying the box open and pulling the lamp out of its packaging. He held it up and inspected it, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a grin as he remembered. “Obviously not all of the craters were there at first but the ones that were-“ his sentence was cut short by two hands framing his face.

“It’s perfect,” Dean breathed, leaning in to press his lips against Cas’s.

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

Dean apologized to Sam and Eileen the next morning over breakfast, and even sat down with them while they restructured the way they assigned cases.

“It’s somethin’,” Dean told Cas as they crawled into bed later that night. “I’m not saying it’s gonna keep the death count at zero, but it’s peace of mind for everybody.”

“That’s good,” Cas nodded, lifting his arm up to wrap around Dean’s shoulders as Dean wrapped an arm securely around his middle. “You know, Jack’s been making some real changes. Positive ones. I know it isn’t easy to see someone go but it’s--“

“If you say ‘the natural order’, I swear-“

Cas laughed at that, muffling the sound a little into Dean’s hair. “I was going to say it’s different than before. I know things were rocky for a while, but I do think he was raised correctly.”

Dean gave a low hum and reached back to turn his bedside lamp off, the only light coming from the little moon lamp that he’d put on Cas’ bedside table. He’d already made a mental note to pick up some of those glow in the dark stars the next time he was in town, if only as an inside joke. Hell, he could probably turn one of the extra rooms in the bunker into a planetarium if he really put the work into it. He might just have to do that, if only to see the look on Castiel’s face. And maybe to hear him ramble about creation again.

Settling back into the embrace, Dean turned his head slightly to press his ear to Cas’ chest. He wasn’t sure when, but listening to Cas’s heartbeat had become a habit of his. It was grounding in a way few other sounds were--listening to a heart beat in a chest that belonged to someone that loved him without condition, without question. As much as it had turned into an inside joke between them, no amount of space would be able to calm him as much as that sound could. For a few moments (decidedly not selfish moments; he’d worked too hard and fought too long for this and damn it, he was going to enjoy it) he listened, feeling the gentle rise and fall as Cas’s breathing started to even out as he drifted off. “Cas?” Dean asked, not wanting to lift his head just yet. He was met with a hum that reverberated under his ear and he smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #my fic

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firebreathingdragon3 · 3 years

Text

Was it me? (promt from my friend)

Pairing: Sabriel

Warnings: angst and cheating (again)

It was the small things that Gabe noticed. Starting with the lack of affection, then going to barely talking, coming home late, and looking at him with something that Gabe still hasn’t figured out.

For a month, Sam has been coming home late. Buying things with cash so it didn’t show up on their shared card. Finally, Gabe had enough and decided to confront Sam.

“Hey, Sam?” He asks, ignoring the look of confusion on Sam’s face. After all, he always gives Sam a nickname. The first name hasn’t been used in a year (their last fight).

“Yeah, Gabe?” He replies.

“If I were to ask you something, would you be honest?”

Fear flashes across his gaze before it’s quickly hidden. “Of course,”

“Why have you been so distant?” Gabe asks, keeping his voice even.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Samuel,”

“Gabe, don’t,” Sam warns. That only fuels Gabe’s anger.

“No! You’ve been super suspicious the past month, I’ve ignored it because I thought you would tell me what’s going on but you haven’t! Now tell me what’s going on!” Gabe practically yells. Sam winces.

“Okay fine, it was an accident. I wasn’t thinking and hooked up with someone once,” he says quickly. Gabe stops, he assumed that’s what happened. But hearing it from Sam made it real.

“Oh...” Gabe trails off.

“Gabe,” Sam pauses “there’s more,”

“More women?!” Gabe asks incredulously.

“No, no! God no. There’s more to the story,”

“What?” Gabe asks, scared of the answer.

“That girl... Amelia.... she’s, dammit!”

“Spit it out, Sam,”

“Gabe, you have to know I didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“SAM!” Gabe snaps, wanting to hear the worst so he can go cry on his little brothers shoulder.

“I- Sh-” he pauses “she’s pregnant, Gabe,” Sam looks down, not wanting to see his lovers face.

Gabe sits, shocked for what seems like eternity before Sam interrupts.

“Babe, ple-”

“I’m going to Cas and Dean’s,” Gabe says while standing, trying to ignore the pleas from his boyfriend- ex boyfriend?

-<>-<>-<> 20 minutes later -<>-<>-<>

Gabe walks up to his brothers house, realizing that it’s almost midnight.

‘Oh well,’ he thinks ‘They’re normally up watching TV at this time’

After knocking on the door he waits a few minutes.

“Hey, Gabe!” Dean exclaims as he opens the door.

“Where’s Cas?” Gabe questions, shocking the eldest Winchester considering Gabe normally jokes around.

“Inside,” Dean say confusedly, pointing behind him. Without saying anything Gabe walks past Dean and into the living room.

“Gabe? What are you doing here? Don’t you and Sam have a date or something?” Cas asks. Gabe sighs.

“I need to talk to someone,” he mumbles, looking at the floor.

“Oh, okay...?” Cas trails off, looking at his fiancée and only getting a shrug in response.

“Do you want me to-” Dean is interrupted by his phone ringing. “It’s Sam,” he states

“Hey, Sammy!”

Silence, then a confused look.

“Yeah, he’s here,”

More silence as Dean shoots Gabe a look. Sam says something and Dean pulls the phone away from his ear, covering the speaker.

“Do you want to see him?”

Gabe quickly shakes his head.

“Sorry, baby brother. He fell asleep........ yes, I will let him know you called. Have an awesome night”

And with that, Dean hangs up.

“You’re brother is a dick, by the way,”

“Why?” Dean asks, getting a bit protective of his brother.

Gabe looks at his brother.

“Babe, will you get us some drinks?” Cas asks, Dean gets the hint and walks to the kitchen. As soon as he’s gone Gabe breaks down. Quickly Cas envelopes him in a hug. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“He freaking cheated!” Gabe cries through sobs. Feeling Cas tense like he’s ready to run and beat the crap out of Sam, he decides to tell the whole story. “He got someone pregnant.”

Cas tries to jump up but Gabe holds him down.

“Dean!” Cas exclaims as Dean walks in with drinks.

“Yes?”

“We’re gonna beat a dumbass moose up!”

“Umm....”

Part 2?

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huntertales · 4 years

Note

the incorrect quotes where dean and y/n don't know how to deal with their feelings or being loved are literally killing me 🤣🤣

i tried finding many as i could to go along with this theme! those are my absolute favorite ones as well because it peak dumbass behavior from the both of them!

y/n: know why i called you in here? dean: because i accidentally sent you a dick pic y/n: *stops pouring two glasses of wine* accidentally?

sam: are you in love with dean? y/n: *sweating* ...no sam: then why do you draw 'y+d' in hearts everywhere? y/n: it stands for yearn and destroy

sam: next question. you’re into y/n y/n: that’s not a question- sam: so you agree it’s a fact

y/n: two years ago i married my best friend y/n: dean is still mad about it but josh and i were drunk and thought it was funny

dean: welcome to the ‘fuck dean winchester’ club, where we discuss all the reasons why i am a terrible person dean: before we start, does our newest member want to say anything? y/n: *sweating* i may have misunderstood the purpose of this club

dean: i don't need love. it's a waste of time also dean: i will literally kill for you if you give me one (1) ounce of affection

y/n: you remind me of the ocean. dean: because I'm deep and mysterious? y/n: because you're salty and you scare people. dean: even better

y/n: i swing both ways. ;) y/n: violently, with a bat. come get some, motherfuckers!

y/n: did somebody order a pizza? dean: i did ;) but I don't have any money ;) y/n: then why the fuck did you order a pizza

y/n: *slowly blinking* dean: what are you doing this time? y/n: i’m saying “i love you” in cat dean: i love you too but please stop

dean: wanna go out for drinks tonight? y/n: sure, how about 10? dean: dean: Isn’t that too many?

#mail #incorrect quotes

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caranfindel · 4 years

Text

Fic: Flies in the Vaseline

gen, preseries | about 1700 words | PG-13 for language | characters: dean winchester, john winchester, sam winchester | warnings: gratuitous use of second person

Synopsis: The best hunters don't smoke. Inspired by a Tumblr post (waves to @road-rhythm)

. . . . . . .

The first time your father caught you smoking, you braced for impact, literally and figuratively. You half expected him to smack the cigarette out of your lips. You definitely expected an angry lecture. But he just looked at you, so calm it was almost scary.

"That's not your first one," he finally said. "How often are you doing that?"

Emboldened, you finished the cigarette in one long, last draw, tossing it onto the asphalt and grinding it out with the tip of your boot. "Not a lot. Not every day. Just… sometimes."

"Mmm hmmm." He was still unnaturally calm. "You think that's a good idea?"

You swallowed a laugh at the possibility that smoking might be what got you in the end, rather than a claw or a fang. "I'm not letting it get out of hand," you said.

"Oh, so you think you've got a handle on it." Ah, there it was. That patented John Winchester attitude, disappointment garnished with a dollop of sarcasm. And it pissed you off.

"Yessir, I think I do. I don't think one cigarette to help me relax every once in a while is going to hurt me." Not any more than the constant infusion of Jack Daniels is hurting you, you wanted to point out, but you were not stupid enough to say that out loud.

He stared at you a little bit longer. Maybe thinking you're old enough to make your own decisions, but more likely thinking you dumbass, I don't even know what to do with you. Finally he said "All right, if you think you've got this situation under control, let's see how that works out for you. But don't let Sam see you doing it. You know how the kid looks up to you."

You replayed every word in your mind, looking for the command. It wasn't there. "So you're not telling me to stop?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

That felt like a trap, and you didn't answer.

He didn't mention it again, and didn't see you smoking again, until a couple of months later. You'd successfully cleaned out a pack of ghouls with some friends of his (no, not friends, associates; John Winchester didn't really make friends), and when Ripley pulled out a Marlboro and then waved his pack at you, you took one. Your father watched and scowled and didn't say a word.

But later, when you were in the car for the long drive back to the motel, something clicked. Or snapped. Because you were almost eighteen years old, you'd been hunting monsters since you were barely old enough to jack off, you were younger than all the guys you'd hunted with tonight and still better than most of them, and you'd just killed your first ghoul. And he didn't say good job, Dean or I'm proud of you or anything. He just bitchfaced about your smoking. And you'd had enough. You drank like a man and fucked like a man and hunted like a man and you weren't going to hide cigarettes from your Daddy like a little boy any more.

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the half-empty pack that had been stashed in there for a couple of weeks. And this time you didn't expect it at all, so you jumped when your father slapped the cigarette out of your hand.

"Not in my car," he snapped.

"Jesus, Dad," you said, embarrassed. "Chill out. All you gotta do is ask."

"No, I don't have to ask," he growled. "I'm telling you. Not in my car."

A couple of miles went by before he spoke again. "Dean," he said, "I know you're going to do what you want to do, when I'm not around. I just want to make sure you're making an informed decision. You know what smoking is going to do to you, right?"

"What," you said, "give me lung cancer? Like I'm gonna live long enough to worry about that?"

He sighed. "Yes, I do hope you live long enough to worry about that. But I'm not talking about lung cancer. I'm not talking about long term. I'm talking about right now. The way it affects your lungs. Do you think shortness of breath is an advantage for a hunter?"

"Didn't seem to hurt Ripley."

"Oh, Ripley." His lip curled. "So that's your goal, then? To be as good a hunter as Ripley?"

You wanted to scream that it was so fucking unfair, that you'd done every goddamn thing the man ever wanted. That you were already better than Ripley and most other hunters and the world wasn't going to end if he loosened the reins just the tiniest bit. You wanted to ask him if he was ever going to be satisfied, if you were ever going to be enough.

You didn't. You tucked the half-empty pack back into your pocket and rode silently back to the motel.

. . .

And now it's the next morning. There's no post-hunt day off, no downtime, as usual. Your father barks a reveille at o'dark thirty, and by the time the sun comes up you're shivering on an empty high school football practice field. Sam peers up at you through messy bangs, silently questioning. You shrug.

"Sam?" Dad asks. "How fast can a black dog run?"

Sam looks pleased that today's training includes a mental component, since that's the only way he ever comes out on top. "They've been clocked at twenty miles an hour," he says. "Maybe up to twenty-five. For short bursts, anyway. Not long distance."

"So let's say twenty miles an hour. Convert that to yards per second."

Sam gives him a puzzled look, then closes his eyes and furiously calculates in his head. "Um… ten. Almost ten yards per second."

"Good job." Sam practically glows in the wake of Dad's faint praise. "Okay, Dean, your turn. Couple laps around the field. Fast."

Fine. You sprint down the field, legs and arms pumping, watching Dad and Sam out of the corner of your eye. They're still standing at the edge of the field, talking. Well, Dad's talking. Sam is listening. Your brother reaches out to high-five you as you pass. The little shit's in a good mood after getting to show off his mathlete skills.

You circle the field again, fast, because you're not going to give the old man a reason to bitch at you, to give you the disappointed turned-down mouth and the narrowed you've failed me eyes. At the end of your second lap you pull up, sweaty and out of breath, ignoring the stitch in your side.

Your father gives you an enigmatic smile. "You doing okay, son?"

"Yessir."

"All right. Stay here for a sec." He puts his hand on Sam's back and steers him down the field. "Here's the scenario," he calls, when they stop. "Your brother's 30 yards away from you. His leg is broken, so he can't run. And there's a black dog 40 yards away from him, about to pounce. You're out of ammo, so you have to take it down with a knife. So you've got to get to Sam before the black dog does."

Forty yards. Four seconds. Motherfucker.

He looks at his watch and barks "go!" and for a moment you think you might be able to do it. Maybe if you'd already been in motion, you would have had a chance. But you can't sprint forty yards in four seconds from a standstill. You just can't. Even if you hadn't been out of breath to start with, it would have been difficult. You're still almost ten yards away when your father grabs Sam from behind. Sam shrieks with laughter (it's a happy noise, you tell your panicky lizard brain, a happy noise, goddammit) and his skinny legs go flying as Dad spins him away from you, out of reach.

You pull up and lean over with your hands braced on your knees, acting like you're stretching, because you don't want to look up into your father's smug smile.

"Okay, Sam," he says, "your turn. Two laps. Go."

When your brother is out of hearing range, you straighten up and try to force yourself to breathe normally. When you can speak, it comes out in short bursts.

"You know that's… a bunch of crap… right?"

"What's that, son?" he says mildly, his eyes following Sam down the field.

"The smoking's got nothing to do with… with me being out of breath right now… I hardly smoke at all… it takes me the better part of a month to finish a pack… and that's gonna bring me down like, one percent, tops… and me reducing my lung capacity by one percent isn't gonna affect anything… I couldn't have got to him in time… smoking or not."

"That's true," he says, turning to you. "Sometimes even a hundred percent isn't enough. And most days, it won’t matter. Most days, ninety-nine percent is going to do the job. But one day you're going to need a hundred percent. And you never know when that day's gonna come, Dean. So, is tomorrow gonna be a ninety-nine percent day? Are you ready to bet your life on it? My life?" He turns to look at Sam, loping back up the field toward you. "His life? Something happens to him, it's gonna be bad enough knowing you couldn't have stopped it. How's it gonna feel knowing you could have?"

You don't have an answer for that, but your father's not waiting for one. "Sam!" he yells. "Kick it into gear the rest of the way! You're in a sprint, not a marathon!" Sam ducks his head and runs, slender arms and legs frantically churning as if something dark is snarling at his heels.

. . .

(Tonight, in your nightmares, you'll be unable to breathe, running slow and sluggish like you're pushing through chest-deep water, like you’re drowning in Vaseline. You'll watch helplessly as Sam falls, screaming, taken down by something dark, something snarling, something hungry with fangs and claws. You'll wake with a pained gasp and flush the last of the cigarettes down the toilet. You’ll spend half an hour silently watching your little brother sleep, still hearing him scream your name. And you'll know you're a failure, you let everyone down; you can never, will never be enough. )

(And the next day, you’ll go out and try anyway.)

~ ~ ~ ~

The title is from Vasoline by Stone Temple Pilots, but the actual product is spelled Vaseline and therefore I insist on spelling it that way.

#my fic #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #john winchester #pre series #angst #as usual

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