#i used to LOVE reading fics where they’d be getting together and cas was coming to terms with his asexuality or

[genderstudiesnatural]

guy who got swept away away by the gay sex jokes rediscovering his ace!cas roots

[dreamingofaizawa]

Potent

Alpha! Hanta Sero x Fem! Omega! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18 please vacate the premises.

Warnings: A/B/O, smut, knotting, marking, breeding kink (sorta? idk it comes with the A/B/O territory), a hint of pregnancy kink, a bit of blood

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author's Note: Ohhhhkaayyy so this has been sitting in my google doc for AGES. I think I started this in...October of last year? It's been sitting there for months and I've lacked the motivation to finish and post it but then I sent in an anon ask to @reinawritesbnha and, being the absolute queen she is, she became the little push I needed to do it. I DID IT FOR REINA!!

Also, this is some of my earliest writing and I only skimmed and edited a little bit of it so if there's a little bit of weird pacing or a strange cutoff where the writing styles clash it's because I haven't touched this piece in months.

Anywho, enjoy~

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It had to happen when you were surrounded by alphas.

Your suppressants flaked out, again, and your scent wafted through the air on the street. Normally It’d be fine for an omega to let their scent float freely around them. But your scent is particularly...potent, even when you weren’t in heat. Not only that, but you weren’t mated yet, your scent glands still bare, and you still didn’t have a pack. To make matters worse, you’re quirkless.

You hadn’t realised what was happening until your path was blocked by an especially large male alpha. You turned around, and there were two more behind you. Fuck. This isn’t good. You took in your surroundings and searched for an exit, but you couldn’t find a way out. There's no way you’d be able to outrun the three very large male alphas.

Probably the worst part is that more alphas are turning their head toward you, taking notice of your lavender honey and rain scent that slowly began turning to a sour swamp. You dared to hope that change would ward off the three cornering you, but they’d already got a whiff of you. Several distressed chirps sounded from your chest, voicing your discomfort, and you glared pointedly at the three alphas as they edged closer to you.

You hate when this happened. Why’d you have to be cursed like this? Your growls only grew, baring your little omega fangs. There’s no way in hell you’d let some stranger scent you, let alone one of these creeps. They wouldn’t take the damn hint and just crept closer to you, calling out to the ‘pretty little omega’ to ‘come have some fun’.

You’re scared now, the involuntary chirps in your chest coming more frequently. None of the other alphas or betas on the street were big enough to face the three, making you a sitting duck and a ragdoll if they wanted you to be. Your claws are small, nowhere near ideal for this situation, but you’d use them if you needed to. With a final low defiant growl you dropped your bag against the wall behind you and readied yourself for a fight.

Suddenly a large body dropped in front of you, his back to you. His scent alone hit you like a freight train, orange zest, mint, tree bark and something earthy. It had your head spinning, nearly sending you into an early heat. He growled, low and powerful, the sound rattling in your chest and making you sink further into the wall behind you. The other three alpha’s scents together were still overpowered by the new alpha before you, and they vanished faster than they appeared.

He turned around and stepped away from you, giving you space to breathe. He kneeled down enough so he was eye level with you, his hands reaching out clearly in an attempt to comfort you, but kept from touching you.

“Are you okay?” The question barely registered, still delirious from his scent, and you’re having a hard time recovering. Large hands grip your shoulders and shake you lightly, your mind beginning to clear with the soothing pheromones he’s releasing.

“Omega.” The command snapped you to attention, your gaze fixated on his own dark irises.

“Are you okay, omega?” You blink, swallow down the lump in your throat, take a deep breath.

“Yeah...I’m okay. Thank you, alpha.” But you’re not quite okay. You need to get home. Fast. The alpha seemed to catch on, probably by your scent that still hadn’t returned to normal. He stands and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping you in his scent. It’s a comforting gesture.

“Let’s get you home.” With a nod you set off, the man walking next to you with a strong, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“What’s your name?” You introduce yourself, and he does the same. His name is Sero Hanta, and now that you’re calm again, you take in just how handsome he is.

Raven hair is pulled back into a small bun, showing off his undercut and strong, sharp jawline. Onyx eyes shine with kindness and playful mischief, and a beaming grin reveals pearly white teeth. He’s incredibly toned, his muscles calmly rippling under the t-shirt that stretched over his chest. You vaguely noticed the strange shape of his elbows, but disregarded it as his quirk. The omega in you is howling, begging for this alpha, his scent invading your senses. But you suppress it quickly, reminding yourself you’d only just met this man.

As you reach your apartment you exchange phone numbers, and he tells you to keep the jacket and use it when you go out to ward off any unwanted attention. You thank him again for helping you earlier, and he waves to you as he walks down the hall and enters the elevator, the doors closing in front of his handsome smiling face.

Despite meeting him only ten minutes earlier your instincts trust the alpha, and you hold the jacket close to your face, breathing in his scent. It’s wonderful, and your inner omega is in love. You find yourself wondering when you’d see him again.

The next few days are riddled with work and calls to your doctor about the strength of your suppressants. You work from home as a secretary for a small company. It’s a miracle you’d found it, too. Nobody wants an omega, let alone a potent one. It’s an alpha’s world, you guess. When this job opening popped up you were ecstatic, so you took it and have been working from home with decent pay for the last five years.

The calls to your doctor were not going as smoothly as your job, though. You leave a message every four hours until she finally calls you back. She was concerned since the suppressants she’d prescribed are the strongest out there, and if your scent was overpowering them they were either defective or your scent glands were overproducing. It wasn’t an immediate threat to your health, it only meant you’d be drawing more attention than you wanted to. Still, it’s annoying and makes life so much harder than it needs to be.

After she prescribed twice the amount, she said she’d look over your tests from the latest visit before she hung up the phone. You groaned once the call ended. You seriously needed a break from your second gender. Taking the prescribed double dose of suppressants, you got ready to go out to the corner cafe to read and drink coffee. Hopefully the new amount will keep steady. You really don’t want to deal with any more aggressive alphas this week. For good measure you pull on Sero’s jacket, allowing his scent to cover you, then grab your keys, phone, wallet and a book and begin the walk.

When you arrive at the cafe you order a hot mocha, curl into the small corner booth and crack open the book. You got lost in the ink and your mind floated along the adventure, putting yourself in the shoes of the main character and leading the mission to take down the corrupt queen who’d framed you for killing the prince of a neighboring kingdom. You were ripped from the fantasy world when a bright, enthusiastic blonde came up and tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. His smile was as bright as his hair.

“Sorry to scare you cutie, but I couldn’t help but notice that jacket of yours smells an awful lot like my friend Sero!” You smile softly at the blonde.

“Well if we’re talking about the same Sero Hanta, then your nose would be correct. This is his jacket.” His eyes widen as he nods.

“Oh my gosh you must be the omega he keeps talk-” The blonde’s words became muffled by a large hand. A hand that belonged to the very man you were talking about. Sero smiles apologetically down at you as he shoves the blonde back to where you assume they’re sitting.

“Sorry about Kami, he’s… extroverted.” You smile back at him, mostly because you’re happy to see him again.

“It’s no problem at all. He recognized your scent on me.” He looked down and only then realized you’re wearing his jacket, and he beams at you. Then he takes a glance at the booth you’re sitting all alone at, his smile falling just a bit.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” You take a moment to think about the offer, then agree with a nod. Your omega couldn’t pass up more time with him.

As you approach the booth you notice there are more people with Sero than you anticipated. There were four other people sitting there. Sero introduced all of them from left to right. Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Ashido Mina, and the happy blonde from earlier is Kaminari Denki. You introduce yourself and when Sero slid into the booth, you followed after him.

These five are a tight pack, and you learn they all met in high school. Bakugo’s brash personality made you wary at first, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s just like that with everyone. He makes a bit of a snippy remark, which you easily counter, and he smirks while the rest smile or snicker. It would seem they like you.

You can’t tell what their second genders are, and you mentally kick yourself for even wondering in the first place. Their genders are none of your concern, but you can’t blame yourself when you’re constantly alert because of your own stupid second gender. As it turns out, you don’t need to wait very long to find out.

This time you smell your own scent as it permeates the air around you. You swear under your breath at the stupid suppressants that obviously can’t so their job, and the others snap their gazes to you. You sigh.

“Yeah, that scent is me. My suppressants flaked again. Sorry about that.” They all nodded, seemingly understanding. Sero must have told them about the other day. Of course, it would soon repeat. It didn’t take long for an alpha to take notice of your scent. The man -- why is it always the largest males??? -- strides up to the booth with a cocksure grin and leans down to inhale your scent. You duck away from him, into Sero, and let out an albeit small warning growl that was drowned in Sero and Kirishima’s. He ignored them all the same.

“Hey there little omega, you smell real nice. You wanna come hang with me instead? We can have some fun together with my buddies, what do you say?” The others stayed quiet. They’re going to let you defend yourself before they do anything in case they end up escalating the situation. You turn your head and lift your shoulder, hiding your scent gland.

“I’m not interested, thank you. Please leave me alone.” You hoped to whatever deity watched over you that the man would leave. Before anyone could react the alpha grabbed your wrist in a vice grip, yanking you roughly from your seat. You chirp, your scent turning sour and the entire pack abruptly stands, baring their fangs at the man. It barely registered in your head that Kirishima and Bakugo are alphas, Mina is a beta, and Kaminari is an omega, their fangs giving them away.

The man tightens his grip on your wrist and you cry out, your bones creaking under the pressure. With no other options you did the one thing that would get him to let go, and sank your fangs into his wrist. You jump back into Sero, who wraps an arm around you protectively.

“You bit me, you bitch!” He raises an arm, clearly about to try and hit you, but a large hand grabs his wrist. Surprisingly enough it’s Bakugo, and his growl is laced into his words.

“Leave now, or you lose a hand.” Sero speaks up from above you.

“You might wanna listen, amigo. That’s Dynamight.” The alpha rips his arm from Bakugo’s hold and looks down at you, and you growl at him as he scoffs and walks away, apparently not ready to fight the #2 pro hero over an omega.

You all sit back down and you pull up the sleeve of the jacket to inspect the already forming bruise on your wrist. Your nose wrinkles with a half-angry half-pained snarl. Tenderly, Sero takes your wrist and lightly squeezes the sides of your forearm, against your bones, and your lack of reaction tells him nothing’s broken. Still, he growls at the offending bruise.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You shake your head and put a hand over his.

“It’s not worth it Sero. He’s probably long gone.” You turn to the rest of the pack.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Kirishima is the first to speak.

“Of course! That dude was a jerk. I just hope he doesn’t go around doing that to other omegas.” Bakugo, surprisingly, spoke next.

“Obviously we’d protect you. You’re a potent omega and quirkless, so you attract unwanted attention without even knowing or wanting to. Besides, if you’re gonna be Sero’s omega there’s no way in hell we’d let some extra handle you like that.” The implications make your face burn, and Kirishima smacks the blonde’s arm with a ‘Don’t just say that kind of thing, Katsuki.’

After an hour or two of talking, and shockingly no other aggressive alphas, they all walk you home to your apartment. Sero wanted to check on your wrist again, so you invited them all in, but they all had something else to do, so you were left alone with Sero. The fact that the one alpha you desperately wanted to be around is alone with you in your apartment is both great and terrible. Thankfully, you have self-control and his own suppressants are working perfectly fine.

He inspected the darkening bruise on your wrist, his large hands gripping your arm tenderly and turning it gently as he prods at the skin. It doesn’t hurt too bad, so you assure him you’ll be perfectly fine. Eventually he leaves with a hug and you sigh once the door is closed, relieved that you were able to keep your omega at bay and your hands to yourself.

A couple days later you get a text from him and the two of you text often, asking how each other’s day went, if anything interesting had happened. You didn’t leave your apartment unless you needed to, since your suppressants clearly weren’t working, so you made sure to cut grocery trips short and keep away from any alphas that seemed a bit aggressive. Sero invited you to hang out with the pack at their house, and you obliged.

They lived in a huge house all together. Most of the rooms were sealed so no scents or sounds could go in or out for ruts and heats, and there were several spare rooms that were empty and waiting for more pack members. It was a fun hangout, filled with video games and good conversation, and even better food which Bakugo cooked. Sero had an arm around you whenever he was close, and you definitely didn’t mind. Your suppressants flaked in the middle, again, and Sero insisted he walk you home. With him walking you home there weren’t any alphas trying to get you this time. You ended up going over to hang out with them a lot when you weren’t working, and eventually Sero began to court you.

Obviously, you accepted, and after a few months of dating and scenting, your overactive scent glands seemed to mellow out, Sero’s scent mixing with it. Your suppressants are lasting much longer now, which is a good sign. Now that you’re Sero’s omega, he often helped you with your heats and you’d help him with his ruts, and he was strong-willed enough that he hadn’t marked or knotted you in the middle of things.

About a year and a half into the relationship you realize you really love him. Sure you had arguments, but everything was settled through calmed discussions over coffee or tea, and you came to understand each other well enough that arguments became few and far between.

You’re happy with Sero, so when your heat came around early and he was there to help, you were going to let him know just how much you loved him.

You texted him once you felt it starting. He was there within half an hour, and you pounced on him once the font door closed, smothering him in hot, wet kisses, eager to feel him inside you. He carries you to the bedroom, and you two are quick in shedding all of your clothes. He lays you on your back with a hand on your throat as he growls into your ear, making a hot shudder roll down your spine.

“Are you ready for me omega?” You whine and nod, your slick already dripping down your folds. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Please alpha, I need your cock.” He growls again, satisfied with your answer, and he presses into you, bottoming out with one firm thrust. You chant his name like a mantra as he set a bruising pace, rutting into you recklessly, wet skin slapping on skin the only other sound beside your whimpers and his growls. His teeth nip at your shoulder, sharp fangs testing your skin and claws digging into the fat of your hips. His cock is so deep, hot swollen tip kissing your cervix with every full-bodied thrust and sending you into a euphoric haze. Your own claws are sinking into his back, leaving little trails of red and blood beading down the lines. It drives him wild every time.

“That’s right, little omega. Mark me up, I’m all yours. Fuck you’re so pretty underneath me like this.” His hands grip behind your knees and press them into your chest, folding you nearly in half as he plows into you further. The angle knocks the breath from your lungs and your eyes roll back. You can feel his knot beginning to swell, feel how his thrusts are getting more controlled and his grip on your thighs tighten from the sheer concentration it’s taking for him not to breed you. You have other plans. Between wheezed breaths you squeak out.

“H-hantaaa~” He slows to a near snail’s pace, grinding his slowly growing cock into your sweet spot, a smirk stretching across his face as you splutter from the sudden change. He’s enjoying making you squirm.

“What is it, sweetness? Tell your alpha what you need.” You pant, chest heaving as much as the position will allow.

“Want your mark, want your knot~ Wanna be bred Hanta! I want your pups!” He stills completely, claws digging into the fat of your thighs with enough force to have drops of blood falling to the sheets beneath you. You’d never said anything like that in the heat of the moment. He can’t have heard you correctly...right?

“Princesa, do you know what you just said?” The seriousness in his tone has you sobering, but even before you knew exactly what you were saying. You nod frantically, wiggling your hips to get him to move again.

“Yes! I know alpha! Please, give me your knot~” His growl makes your bones shake, and with no warning he drops your legs around his waist and leans down so his face is buried in your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna trust you with this baby girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His fangs sink into your scent gland just as he picks up his brutal pace, and the euphoria makes you cum hard, your whole body locking up and mouth falling open in a silent scream. He plows into you as you regain your breath, and you bite down on his own scent gland as hard as you can, tearing into his skin with every intention of leaving a pretty scar for the world to see.

His knot swells more, and he’s pushing it into you with every ounce of power he can generate with that gorgeous body of his. With one final snap of his hips he locks his body to yours and cums hard, ropes of hot seed filling you to the brim. He collapses on top of you and laps at the wound on your neck and you do the same. After a few minutes he leans back and cups your face in his hand, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Are you alright?” You nod, nuzzling into his palm.

“I’m sorry. I was gonna talk to you about it, but my heat came early.” He kisses your forehead gently, brushing the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s okay, pretty thing. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him.

“Of course I do. I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you too.” You lay there, tangled in each other’s arms until his knot goes down. You whine at the loss when his cock slips out of you, clawing at him to come back because you’re still in heat. His hand gently wraps around your neck, a low chuckle on his lips.

“Relax, we’re far from done.” His already hard erection rubs up and down your glistening folds, barely stimulating your clit, teasing you until tears prick your eyes and you’re beggin him to fuck you again.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna breed you so well, You’re gonna look so pretty all big and round with my pups.” He groans at the image he’d conjured in his head and you squeal as he slams his hips into you.

You’re in for a wonderfully long night.

[quwarichi]

heard from your mother au - The Ripple Effect

this is my early birthday gift for @schmuzz1 Ever heard of the ripple effect? you probably did but let's go over it once more; the ripple effect is like if you took a rock and threw it into a lake. Where the rock would hit and sink a ripple would be created, and from there it would only grow bigger and bigger, taking over more space, until the water settles again.

HFYM is the ripple effect ficsonified. The premise is simple, for those who watched the episode Despair in the last season of Supernatural. Castiel confesses his love to Dean, gets taken by the Empty. He wakes up in 2003 in a motel room, without his memories and only a memory saying “Don’t do this, Cas” which helps him figure out his name is Cas, and that he’s a hunter. Simple.

Then he meets Dean.

Now, we’ve all read various pre-series fics, haven’t we? It’s a token when giving fans a time-gap that we don’t know much about, they’d try to fill it as best as their imagination limitations will help them. So what is so special about HFYM?

In a word; Cas.

Meet this angelic being, who without his memories fully believes his humanity, and drives around the US not looking for answers, exactly, but just trying to help out to the best of his ability. By putting Cas in a setting pre-series, and letting the readers know that this Cas is their Castiel, the story already kicks into gear with a race to see when and how Cas will affect the story.

We didn’t know about angels until season 4. We didn’t THINK there was a better way to kill demons other than the Colt until season 3. Characters and themes that we would’ve taken years to get to know in the show are being used and constantly appear throughout what HFYM would call season 0 (or is that just me? make some noise). But Cas changes all of that just by being. For this next part, I recommend you stop reading this post if you haven’t read this fic, go read it in its entirety, and come back here after you’re done and had time to adjust.

We good? Good.

Pamela Barnes, the love of my life and a five-episode cameo in the Supernatural show. In HFYM, she acts as Cas’ best friend most of the time, teaching him the highs (hehe) and lows of having what they all figure is a really developed psychic ability. Bringing Pamela in chapter 16 was not only a brilliant use of character but a ripple effect. But I get ahead of myself. To understand why Pamela is suddenly there, we need to identify the biggest ripple of them all; Dean fucking Winchester.

Dean and Cas, from the start, develop a sort of kinship. It’s reminiscent of their first meeting in Lazarus Rising, where Castiel rescues Dean but also has its own charm. Here, Cas has no idea he’s an angel, and that’s why humanity is so strange to him. Dean views Cas as a weirdo that is not to be trusted, and later as a weirdo that he can kinda trust but make sure to watch his back around him.

In a way, they’re mirrors. Cas’ effortless way of creating acquaintances highlights just how isolated Dean is from people because of John’s influence. Whenever they’re together, Dean finds himself surrounded by others too, but apart it’s clear that Cas (to much of my, and probably his, surprise) is the social one.

Quoting the fic tags: “like maybe if he [Pre-series Dean Winchester] got a boyfriend he would have calmed down” is the very abstract explanation of the ripple effect. By being isolated for so long, without even Sam to keep him company, Dean couldn’t develop properly, resulting in the Dean we get in season 1. But ripples (courtesy of Cas) reach him and that’s where it all comes together. By meeting Cas pre-series Dean is given two things; one, no more isolation, time to grow sunshine. Two, a romantic subplot.

Now I don’t know how much you know about media - but romantic subplots are usually very character forwarding if done right. The best thing about the romantic subplot in HFYM is that it’s not immediate. Fuck no. It’s built on months of friendship and a bond forged in hunting, in putting each other’s lives in the other’s hands like it’s nothing. When they finally get together (I did the math, they get together when the story is like, halfway over. 52% to be exact) it makes sense because you watched them forge the bond and thus pushing their character development further. Romantic subplots are one of the best ways to push a character to their limits (looking at you, chapter 49) and then break those limits. So the biggest ripple was basically Cas and Dean thinking “huh, lemme smooch” and then doing it instead of eye fucking for twelve years.

But that’s not what I’m talking about, exactly. The biggest ripple effect that Cas did with Dean is that when season 1 starts (did I mentioned this was a canon rewrite? We love multitasking), when Dean goes to get Sam for Jericho and everything is put into hyperdrive, Dean is different. It affects how people around him act, especially Sam. The first season is very Sam-driven, but the main character will be changed by changing the “supporting” cast. It doesn’t help that Cas ripple effect number 2932#: Save Jess has definitely quelled the grief-rage thing that Sam has going on in canon since she’s not gone, and is actually around them for a while before leaving to work with Bobby and Jo. Sam immediately notices that something’s different about Dean, but he can’t put a finger on it. Requoting tags: “he would have calmed down”. Gone is the aimless rage and loss that makes him reckless and drinking too much. Gone are the women chasing days because he’s in a committed relationship. Heck Dean has a bit of self-esteem now, having bagged that (points at frog-shirt wearing Cas) and it affects the story in the way he and Sam interact.

Sam can feel that Dean’s hiding something from him (Cas) and it makes a rift between them because he doesn’t get who’s this hunter Dean hangs out with that is definitely replacing Sam in Dean’s eyes - the same guy who used weird powers to save Jess from a demon. Dean is still hurt over Sam leaving for Stanford and anxious about him finding out about Cas and John and everything. Basically, take season 1 brother dynamics and throw a live grenade in the mix. That grenade is Cas, btw.

Ripples, man.

Cas affects the story - he gets Dean to get back in touch with Bobby because he’s looking for an explanation for why he heals from mortal wounds like it’s nothing, why he doesn’t need sleep, and why he’s never hungry. Bobby connects Cas to Pamela, thinking Cas is an odd psychic, and Pamela becomes inherently important in the way that she helps Cas control his powers and provides his first real… non-platonic experience (off-screen, dw they’re friends) that later helps him discern what Dean is to him. Through Bobby, he also meets Ellen and Jo, in the Roadhouse. He goes on hunts alone, and finds a knife that helps him save a possessed girl named Taylor who is later a part of an actual episode (Hookman) and there’s recognition, she’s not just a standby person and that connects with Jess’ storyline, that connects with Sam’s storyline that connects with Dean’s storyline. By being him, Cas creates ripples everywhere he touches because he’s not supposed to be there.

The otherwise undisturbed surface is broken because Cas is there to break it and create ripples that connect with each other, all unknowingly, and the way it’s constructed is incredible.

I could add more about Dean’s bisexuality journey or realization, or how lack of trauma makes Cas a lot more narrative-free but it could all come crashing down on him if he remembers the past, or how Sam and Jess are so interesting like yes girl flesh out the revenge reason we see in three episodes, but this is getting long and I could always make new posts about this fic that I love so much.

Happy birthday, Jenn, you’re an incredible friend and writer and I’m so lucky to have found you in this mayhem of a fandom.

Go read heard from your mother (she don’t recognize you) on ao3, you magnificent people.

[petrichoravellichor]

Begin and End There (Part 2)

For Day 6 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: Destiel).

Note: This is Chapter 2 of 2; you can find the post with Chapter 1 here, or you can read the entire work on Ao3.

Rating: T

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, minor Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, minor Castiel & Sam Winchester, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Warnings: Brief, non-graphic mentions of canon violence; reference to Dean’s suicidal ideation/decision to temporarily kill himself in 13x05; references to repeated major character death that didn’t stick - to be clear, this fic has a happy ending and is basically everything Dean needed to say and Cas needed to hear.

Summary: After the Empty takes him, Castiel wakes up in the last place he expected (Chapter 1), with a second chance at happiness when he reunites with Dean and the latter finally gets to speak his truth (Chapter 2).

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“Love him, and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” —James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

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“Dean.” Sam’s voice was imploring, gentle, just like it had been the first two times he’d tried. “Come on, sit down.”

Dean ignored him and continued pacing, the cramped stillness of the motel room a vicious sounding board for his thoughts. Among them all, he clung to one thought in particular, the only one keeping him sane: Jack’s gonna get him back. He said he would. He has to...

He could feel Sam’s worried gaze on him from where his brother sat in a chair by the door. It had been Sam who had insisted they grab the motel room after Jack had gone, having intuited, rightly, that Dean was a mess even if he was trying to hide it and that he needed somewhere private where he didn’t have to. The only problem was that, for Dean, privacy in the sense of space to break down meant an audience of zero, not one, and Dean didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself together.

“Damn it, Sam,” he growled a minute later, “don’t you and Eileen have stuff to talk about? You don’t gotta hang around like a damn babysitter.”

If Sam was annoyed by Dean’s tone, he didn’t show it; instead, he just leaned forward, folding his hands in his lap. “We do, but it can wait,” he said calmly. "Besides, you heard her: someone had to go back to the silo and make sure all the Apocalypse-world hunters made it back okay. She said she’d text me when she got there.”

Dean huffed out a sigh. “Yeah, well...Still. You could’ve gone with her, is all I’m sayin’.”

“No. Not until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dean, enough.” Sam was frowning now, and there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “You think I don’t know what Cas means to you?” He scoffed and shook his head. “Because if so, I’m sorry, but you’re not as hard to read as you think you are, not for me.”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, stunned, and as he wilted under Sam’s knowing gaze, the full force of his exhaustion hit him all at once and damn near brought him to his knees. “I can’t lose him,” he heard himself admit in a hoarse whisper. He swallowed and shook his head. “Not again.”

Sam’s expression softened. “I know. We’ll get him back; if Jack can’t save him, we’ll find another way. We always do.”

Dean sighed, then nodded. Sam was right; of course he was. They’d get Cas back even if Dean had to storm into the Empty and grab him himself, grip Cas’s formerly feathered ass and raise him from perdition for a change. Cas, you idiot, what the hell’s the matter with you? he imagined himself demanding. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?

Suddenly, there was a shuffling sound outside, and before Sam could even begin to stand, Dean had bolted across the room and yanked open the door, determined to hear whatever news Jack was bringing them so that he could actually do something instead of just waiting, only...only it wasn’t Jack standing on the other side of the threshold.

Cas gazed back at him as though in a daze, hand raised in an aborted knock; after a beat, he lowered it and cleared his throat. “I—Hello, Dean.” He nodded past Dean toward the interior of the room. “May I come in?”

Dean nodded wordlessly, feet suddenly like lead as he stepped aside so Cas could brush past him. He closed the door and sank down on the edge of the nearest bed as Sam let out an exclamation of relief and stood to pull Cas into a hug.

“It’s good to have you back, man,” Sam said warmly, clapping Cas on the back. As they drew apart, he added, “How’s Jack? Did you have a chance to talk with him?”

Cas nodded, smiling. “I did. He told me everything that’s happened since…” Cas’s smile faltered, and his eyes darted over to land on Dean, who suddenly felt as though his face were on fire. Before Dean could say anything, though, Cas looked away, as though he were the one who’d been burned. “He told me everything,” he said instead. “He also said that he’ll be home as soon as he’s able, once he and Amara have finished remaking Heaven.”

Sam raised a brow, glancing curiously from Cas to Dean and back again; clearly, he’d clearly picked up on the weirdness between them. For a moment, Dean thought he was going to call them out on it and started casting about for something innocuous to say; however, Sam just smiled and nodded. “That’s great, Cas. Thanks for the update. And for saving Dean. If you hadn’t gone with him…” Sam swallowed, a more sober expression settling on his face. He reached out and clasped Cas’s shoulder. “Just...thank you. For everything.”

The genuineness of Sam’s words seemed to catch Cas off guard; then, after a moment, his lips quirked in a timid sort of smile, and he nodded. “Of course.”

Sam beamed at him, then took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Okay, I’m gonna go grab lunch while I wait to hear from Eileen, so I’ll see you guys later.” Then, with a poorly concealed smirk, he looked over at Dean and added, “Text me if I should steer clear of the Bunker for a few days.”

Dean glared daggers at him. Sammy, I swear to our kid who is now God...“How ’bout you just get a move on before I kick your ass? Bitch.”

But Sam just chuckled. “Good luck, jerk,” he replied, fondly; then, with a wave, he turned and headed for the door.

A moment later, he was gone, and the room was unbearably silent. Dean glanced up at Cas to find the latter regarding him almost shyly, as though any words uttered between them would bring the walls crashing down. For his part, Dean would have almost welcomed it. A quick death sounded pretty good right about now; at the very least, it’d absolve him from having to speak.

In the end, it was Cas who cleared his throat and broke the silence. “Jack said you wanted to see me?”

“Uh.” Dean sucked in a shaky breath, then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” Then, feeling his face grow warm at Cas’s continued stare, he coughed and looked away. “Cas, have a seat. We, uh, we need to talk.”

He’d expected Cas to sit opposite him, in the chair Sam had vacated; but before he realized what was going on, Cas had crossed over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, less than a foot of mattress between their thighs. The heat on Dean’s face licked down his neck and back, almost overwhelming him, and if his legs hadn’t suddenly turned to jelly, he probably would have bolted.

Instead, he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “So...Jack was able to get you back, huh?” He immediately wanted to kick himself, because of course Jack had been able to get Cas back, that much was obvious. Way to go, dumbass...

Thankfully, Cas just nodded. “He promised the Empty a future of noninterference within Its realm in exchange for my life, and It accepted.”

“Huh.” Dean chewed his tongue thoughtfully. “Sounds like one of us actually made a good deal for a change.”

Cas gave him a tentative smile. “I hope so.” A pause; then: “Dean, I need you to know that I don’t regret my choice, because that’s what it was: my choice; and there’s nothing you could have said or done that would have made me choose differently.” Cas was speaking quickly, urgently, looking at Dean as though afraid Dean would interrupt. “And I also need you to know that I meant every word that I said about how I see you. Now that Chuck is gone, you can finally be happy, and...if it’s possible, I would like to be part of that happiness.” He looked up at Dean sadly, adding, “but if that’s not what you want, if you want me to leave, I promise I understand.”

Dean, who up to this point had only been able to listen in stunned silence, finally managed to unstick his voice. “If that’s not what I...What are you...You think I don’t want you to be a part of it?”

“I...” Cas looked down at his hands. “I’m aware that my connection to Heaven is no longer of particular value, and more than that, I don’t wish the knowledge of what you mean to me to make you uncomfortable.” He smiled sadly. “You don’t owe me anything, Dean; I recognize that. I—”

“Stop,” Dean interrupted, because every word out of Cas’s mouth was landing like a knife in his heart. He reached out and gripped Cas’s shoulder tightly, causing the latter to look up in startled surprise. “Damn it, Cas, stop talking like I’d only want you in my life if you were a goddamn tool I could use. You’re not a hammer, remember? Not mine or anyone else’s.”

Cas’s stunned expression melted into one of soft wonder. He nodded slowly, gazing back at Dean with eyes so earnest and hopeful that Dean had to look away lest he fall right into them. With a nervous swallow, Dean licked his lips and dropped his hand from Cas’s shoulder, determined to keep going now that he’d gotten started. “And..and about me not owing you anything...Cas, I owe you everything.” He made himself meet Cas’s gaze again, because damn it, this was apparently something Cas had doubts on, and Dean needed him to understand. “You pulled me out of Hell, and you helped me and Sam stop the Apocalypse and saved both our asses more times than I can count, and Jack’s alive because of you and so is everyone else in the world. And you think what, that I’m just gonna forget about all that?” he demanded, just barely managing to keep his voice from breaking. He shook his head. “Fuck that, Cas; you’re not disposable.”

Cas, whose expression had become increasingly anguished the longer Dean spoke, now looked dangerously close to tears. “Then what am I, Dean? I...please, I need to know, I need you to tell me, because I don’t...I can’t...”

Everything, Dean thought fiercely; you’re everything. Fuck, he just needed to find some way to actually say it…

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: maybe, if saying it out loud was too much...He closed his eyes and started praying. Cas?

He felt a slight shift of the mattress as Cas stiffened in attention. “Dean?” he asked, hesitantly.

Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you. Dean kept his eyes closed, responding in his head. Question is, can you hear me?

A beat of silence; then: “Yes. I can hear you.”

Dean let out a steady breath. Okay. Okay, good. ’Cause there’s something I need you know, but...He tried to finish the thought; damn it, he tried, but even like this, he just couldn’t fucking seem to—

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder; his eyes fluttered open to see Cas leaning forward into his space, looking at him with soft understanding. “There’s something you need me to know,” Cas repeated slowly, “but you’re not sure how to say it.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “You...you got that part, too?”

Cas nodded. “The way it works...It’s difficult to explain in human terms. Prayers are something I hear and see and feel, all at once, and they don’t have to be words. They can be feelings or images or—”

“Memories?” Dean sat up straight, an idea forming. “Does it work with memories?”

Cas’s brow furrowed in apparent confusion, but eventually, he nodded. “Yes. If you show them to me.”

Dean didn’t waste another moment—he couldn’t, or he might lose his nerve. He closed his eyes and resumed his prayer. Okay, Cas, listen up...

He was pulling Cas’s trench coat out of the reservoir after the Leviathans had walked Cas into it, and the feeling in his gut...Dean knew it was grief. He’d lost friends before; hell, he’d lost Sam before, but this...this felt different...

But the Leviathans were on the loose, and the wall blocking out Sam’s Hell trauma had crumbled, and Dean didn’t have time to let himself stop and think. He folded the trench coat and stowed it in Baby’s trunk.

Months later, he was talking to Cas in an abandoned hangar the night before they stormed Sucrocorp and went after Dick Roman. Cas was saying he should stay behind, told Dean he wasn’t good luck and would just get in the way, but Dean wasn't having it. He’d done life without Cas, and it had sucked. Now, he knew he’d rather have him, cursed or not, friend or...He’d rather have him.

He only told Cas the first part, though.

Then, after, when he was tearing through Purgatory for over a year, Dean realized it wasn’t that he’d rather have Cas—it was that he couldn’t imagine not having him. He was going to find Cas no matter the cost, wasn’t leaving Purgatory without him. Cas was...he wasn’t something Dean couldn’t stand to lose.

And then Dean lost him anyway.

Dean was back topside, and Cas was still in Purgatory because Dean had failed to save him. The knowledge haunted Dean; he saw Cas everywhere, was sure he was hallucinating...until it turned out he wasn’t. And then he learned that Cas had made the conscious choice to stay behind, because apparently, Dean was something he could stand to lose, and that knowledge hurt in a way Dean didn’t have words for.

So they didn’t talk about it.

Then Dean was kneeling, bloodied, in Lucifer’s crypt, Cas standing over him with his angel blade raised. And Dean didn’t know what was going on, but he knew, he knew, that this wasn’t his Cas. His Cas. The words were loud in his mind, and he was both awed and terrified of how right they felt. He needed Cas, and he told him so...and Cas’s angel blade fell to the floor.

They didn’t talk about that much, either.

Years went by, and now Dean was the one standing over a bloodied, crumpled Cas, the Mark of Cain burning on his arm and Cas’s stolen blade in hand. He needed to hurt Cas, or for Cas to hurt him, to fight back and end the goddamn constant screaming in Dean’s head that was all blood and rage and hate and—Cas’s hand came up to gently clasp Dean’s wrist. “No, Dean...please.” And for a second, just a second, the hate in Dean’s mind was quiet, and in its place, strong, surging, and undeniable, was—

Dean stabbed the book next to Cas’s head and walked away.

Next, he was standing in a barn with his mom and Sam and Crowley, watching in terrified helplessness as Cas writhed in agony on an old couch. Ramiel could come for them at any moment, and yet all Dean could think about was the intensity in Cas’s eyes as Cas told him, told all of them, that he loved them, and fuck, Dean loved him, too, but not the familial sort of love that Cas seemed to be getting at, no. Dean loved him in a raw, real sense that he felt in his bones and that scared him half out of his mind, and he wanted to say it; but then Cas was convulsing, and it was too late…

Then Crowley snapped Ramiel’s spear, and Cas was saved, and Dean told himself that enough was enough, he needed to get his shit together and find some way to tell Cas what he felt before—

He was kneeling, silent, on the shore of a lake. The sky was starless overhead, and Cas was dead on the ground in front of him, wings scorched against the sand. And Dean was aching and empty, hollowed out by grief and regret, because he’d waited too long, and now it was too late…

And then he was dead, or something like it. He was in Death’s library and Billie was showing him the shelf of books with his name on the cover, detailing all the possible ways he could die, and Dean should have felt fear, should have felt fight, but instead, all he felt was finally. He hadn’t been able to save the people he loved, hadn’t been able to save Cas, so what was the point of going back? Sam would be better off without him, would get a shot at the normal life he’d always wanted. Billie could toss Dean in the Empty; he didn’t care anymore. Hell, he wanted it, anything to end all his goddamn regret—

But Billie sent him back anyway, and later that night, Dean’s phone rang.

Cas was back. He was alive and he was back, and fuck, he was so much more than Dean deserved. And Dean told himself that he was okay with that, with not having Cas in the way that he wanted, as long as he had him in some way, shape, or form. But then Jack killed Mary, and Dean...he was so angry and hurt that he lashed out at Cas, said horrible things he didn’t mean but didn’t know how to take back once they were out, and he couldn’t even look at Cas without wanting to scream and break and beg for forgiveness. He watched as Cas left him after they fought, left him like everyone else did, and Dean let him, because he knew now that needing someone wasn’t the same as deserving them.

Then they were back in Purgatory after a botched attempt at securing a Leviathan Blossom. They’d been ambushed, and Dean had been knocked out, had woken up alone with Cas nowhere in sight and limited time to make it back. And Dean knew he still didn’t deserve Cas, but he prayed to him anyway. He told Cas about the hurt and the anger and the helplessness he felt when it took hold of him, and he was sorry, God, he was so fucking sorry…

When he found Cas at the last moment at the base of a tree, he wanted...he needed to tell Cas what he hadn’t had the nerve to say in his prayer, because it was so much more than of course I forgive you; it was please forgive me, I know I don’t fucking deserve you but I want you, I need you, I love you…

But they had to go, because as always, there was never enough fucking time.

And then they were trapped in the Bunker’s interrogation room as Billie pounded on the door. Cas was going to die, and it was Dean’s fault, again it was his fault, because he’d screwed up, because he’d been stupid and angry and that was all he knew how to be—

But then Cas was talking with tears in his eyes, and each word was its own revelation, because Cas was looking at him the way Dean had never in a million years thought to be worthy of. And Dean forgot how to breathe, because suddenly, Cas was saying it, he said it: “I love you…”

And then the Empty took him, and Billie, and Dean was left alone on the floor. He was dimly aware of the way Sam’s name flashed on his phone, but he couldn’t answer, because then he’d have to explain, and…and...

Dean cradled his head in his hands and sobbed. He felt like his entire soul had been lit on fire and that every word he’d ever known had been ripped out of him by the roots, all except for the two he murmured, strangled and broken, into the silence: “Me too...”

Dean gasped and ended the prayer. He opened his eyes and felt tears roll down his cheeks; he hadn’t noticed them forming while he’d been praying, and he was about to reach up to dash them away when he saw that Cas’s face was wet with tears of his own; he looked more wrecked than Dean had ever seen him, and the hand he’d kept on Dean’s shoulder throughout the prayer had started to tremble. “Dean, I—”

“Look,” Dean said shakily, because if he didn’t say this now, he didn’t know if he ever could. “I...I know you said happiness isn't really in the having and all that, but...well, I think maybe it is. For me, anyway. Because Cas, if there’s one thing I’ve learned after all the crap we’ve been through, it’s that my life ain’t happy if it doesn’t have you in it.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and pushed on: “You said you thought you couldn’t have me, but the thing is, you’ve had me for years. And I just...I need you to hear me, I need you to know…” He almost stopped then, almost couldn’t go on, because the look of absolute love in Cas’s eyes was overwhelming, and Dean could no more deny it than he could give up breathing. He raised his hand, placed it firmly on top of the one on his shoulder, and squeezed. “You changed me too, Cas.”

Then Cas was kissing him, and Dean let out a muffled sob of relief as he felt Cas’s hands wrap around his middle and pull them flush against one another. His grip was hot and desperate on Dean’s back, and the way his mouth moved against Dean’s made Dean feel as though he were going to burst into millions of joyous pieces. He tangled his hands in Cas’s hair and kissed him hard, tugging him backward until Cas was straddling him on the mattress, his solid, unyielding weight a blissful, dizzying contrast to the lightness Dean felt in his mind as Cas’s tongue slid surely over his own, ravishing and reverent and real. They were real, and they always had been.

And Dean would never, ever doubt that again.

[fandomstuff67]

Words of the Heart

I was just thinking about this idea and I wanted to write it. This fic takes place in a canondivergent world where Cas was rescued from the empty and Dean never died. This is the first time I’ve written from Claire’s perspective so I hope it turns out okay.

Word Count: 1.8k

As usual, read on Ao3 or below

Claire didn’t know why she was so nervous. This wasn’t as big a deal as she was making it out to be; everyone knew already. Jody, Donna, Kaia (obviously Kaia), Hell the whole town probably knew. So why she was pacing her room, scuffing the floor, and worrying her hands into knots, was beyond her. 

“Babe, it’s gonna be fine,” Kaia said from where she was sitting on Claire’s bed, watching her girlfriend wear a hole in the floor. 

“I know, I know,” Claire replied. And she did know, but still her heart was playing a staccato in her chest and sweat still laced her brow. She started biting at her lip, digging her teeth into the skin there until she tasted blood. 

Kaia sighed and stood up, taking Claire’s hands in her own and forcing their eyes to meet. “Alright, that’s it. You need to do something to take your mind off this.” 

Claire shook her head. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“You don’t have to tell you them, you know,” Kaia reminded her gently, giving her hands a squeeze.

“I want to,” Claire replied sternly. 

Kaia nodded and her hand moved to cup Claire’s cheek, she leaned into the touch. Kaia kissed her softly and then smiled. “It’ll be okay.” 

Claire hoped so. 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. The sound reverberated through Claire’s body, pounding into her bones, shaking her to her core; she felt her heartbeat increase and she grasped at Kaia’s hand for one last bit of comfort.

 She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and then headed out to greet Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack. 

“Hey,” she said nonchalantly as she entered the room with Kaia trailing behind her. 

“Hey Claire,” Dean replied, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Hello,” Cas greeted her. 

“Hello,” Jack echoed Cas.

“Good to see you,” Sam said. “You too Kaia.” 

Kaia smiled tersely. Claire knew she still wasn’t entirely over what the Winchester’s had put her through. 

“Beers all around!” Jody’s voice came from the kitchen seconds before she entered the room, holding two beers in each hand. “Hey girls,” she said when she noticed Claire and Kaia. 

This was it; now or never. 

She let her eyes fall on Cas and he looked back at her with his sharp gaze, the gaze that was so unlike how her father’s used to be, yet somehow had become just as familiar, just as welcoming and loving and warm. 

“Uh, Cas,” Claire began, awkwardly. Cas blinked at her, telling her to continue. “Can I, uh, can I talk to you?” 

Cas smiled, it was a small thing, a light upturn of the corners of his mouth. “Of course.” 

“Cool, uh... cool,” she spun on her heel and headed back down the hall to her room. Kaia gave her a reassuring smile as she passed. 

Once Cas had entered her room, she shut the door and turned to face him, hardly even able to meet his eyes. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Of course that was Castiel’s first assumption and of course he couldn’t be more wrong. 

“No,” Claire replied, almost a little too quickly. “No,” she repeated, this time a little more controlled. “I just wanted to tell you something.” 

“Oh,” Cas said, his eyes lost some of their worry and Claire brushed past him to stand by her desk and fiddle with the edge of a notebook. 

“God this shouldn’t be as hard as it is,” she muttered in annoyance at the notebook.

She took in a sharp breath and then spun back to face Cas. He was staring at her in confusion and concern and Claire knew she had to just lay it out in the open. 

“Okay, so, uh. Well. I know you’re not my Dad,” she began. Cas shifted uncomfortably where he stood and Claire instantly regretted her word choice. “But, you... were a part of him, I guess, in a way, and since I can’t tell him, I thought... well, I just thought you were the next best option, and you did kind of become like a father to me, and I know you care so-” 

“Claire,” Cas interrupted, taking a step towards her. She looked up at him, swallowing nervously as his steady blue eyes met hers. “What’s this about?” 

Claire wanted to look away, but Castiel’s gaze had her glued to the spot. “Okay, well, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it.” 

Cas nodded kindly. “Alright.” 

“I like girls.”

She’d said it. Just like that. It was out in the open. There was no taking it back. 

Cas’ eyes softened and a smile spread across his face. Without preamble, he pulled her into a hug and Claire stiffened before letting herself fall into his embrace. 

“I know,” Cas said into her hair. 

“What?” Claire asked in surprise. 

“I suspected, with Kaia and everything...” 

“She’s kind of my girlfriend,” Claire said proudly. 

Cas pulled away and the look he fixed her with so vividly reminded her of her father. “I’m proud of you.” 

Claire didn’t expect to cry. But those four words, coming out of Castiel’s mouth, the mouth her father had used to say grace and to kiss her goodnight and tell stories, they hit her too deeply that she couldn’t stop the tears. 

“Thank you,” she replied, voice wobbly. 

“Jimmy, your father,” Cas said, “he would be proud of you too.” 

“How do you know?” Claire asked. Her father had never really spoken about his thoughts on being queer, he’d taken his religion seriously, so seriously that he let an angel possess him. 

“When I...” Cas trailed off. 

“Possessed him,” Claire finished for him.

Cas nodded. “Yes. Like you said, I was a part of him. I could see his into his mind, see what he thought and what he believed, and he would have loved you, he did love you, just the way you are.” 

Claire sniffed, her eyes welling with so many tears she was forced to blink to clear them away. She found herself pushing her way back into Cas’ arms. 

“You know you can tell me anything,” Cas said. 

Claire nodded. She had known that. Cas had made it very clear when he’d found her again, tried to be a part of her life, and tried to earn her forgiveness for ruining her family. But she hadn’t truly believed it, until now. 

“I know.” 

“Can I tell you something?” Cas asked once they’d separated from their hug.

“Anything,” Claire replied. 

The most far away look came over Cas’ eyes, the faintest of smiles graced his lips, and when he looked at Claire there was something so earnest in the depths of his blue irises. 

“I’m in love with Dean.” 

Claire’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t say she was particularly surprised, every time she’d been around the two of them they seemed to never be able to take their eyes off each other. Really, she should have suspected. 

“That’s- wow.” 

“We’ve been together for a while now,” Cas said, and there was the flicker of a flame in his words, lit with love. 

“That’s awesome,” Claire replied, beaming at him. 

“It is,” Cas agreed. After a moment he looked at her and said, “you were really scared to tell me, why?” 

Claire looked at the ground, the laces of her shoes were suddenly very interesting. “You were an angel, I dunno, the Bible and stuff says what I’m feeling is wrong and I just thought - worried- that you’d... reject me.” 

Cas’ warm hands took ahold of Claire’s shoulders and she was forced to look up at him. “The Bible is wrong. People misinterpret many things, and a flaw in translation played a big part in the thought process that was invoked upon the world that being queer is wrong. Chuck -God- himself, was bisexual, did you know that?” 

Claire’s eyes widened in shock. “No.” 

Cas smiled. “Well, now you do. Nothing you’re feeling is wrong, Claire. It’s good, and being with Kaia clearly makes you happy, right?” 

“It does,” Claire agreed.

“Then it is anything but wrong.” Cas regarded her for a second before asking, “do you want me to tell Dean, or would you like to do that yourself?”

“You can tell him,” Claire replied. “You were the one that I really wanted to tell in person.”

“I’m happy that you told me.” Cas gave her shoulders a squeeze and then tilted his head towards the door. “Should we return to the others?” 

Claire nodded. “Yeah.” 

Cas led the way and Claire followed him back into the living room where Cas instantly sat down beside Dean and placed a kiss on his mouth. Dean grinned at him and slung his arm around Cas’ shoulders.  

Kaia stepped up beside her and let their hands meet. “It went well?” 

“Better than I could have imagined,” Claire replied. 

Later that night, after dinner, while Claire was helping Dean clean up, he leaned over to her as he handed her a dripping wet plate. 

“So, you and Kaia,” he said, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips. 

Claire blushed and shot back, “so, you and Cas.” 

Dean chuckled softly but nodded. “Yeah. I never thought we could- but yeah. Me and Cas.” 

“You look happy,” Claire commented. 

“We are,” Dean replied, a smile touching his eyes. 

“Me and Kaia are too.” 

“I’m proud of you for that, you know,” Dean said. 

Claire’s heart soared to hear those words coming from Dean. “Thanks.” 

“No, really. I know I haven’t always been the greatest towards you. A lot of that had to do with when I had the mark, but a lot of it was also just me. But I wanted you to know, that you’re killing it out there, kid. Doing better than I was at your age, anyway.” 

Claire glanced over at where Jack and Cas were talking on the couch in the next room and then back at Dean, who had followed her gaze. “I think you’re doing pretty well, now.” 

Dean grinned and Claire couldn’t help with smile with him. “Yeah, I am.” 

Claire paused in her drying to pull Dean into a hug. “Thanks, for everything.” 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Dean said as he hugged Claire back. 

Claire reached behind Dean to scoop a handful of soap suds from the sink which she promptly flicked in Dean’s face when they pulled apart. 

“Hey!” Dean shouted indignantly. 

“It was getting too mushy in here,” Claire replied with a smirk. 

Dean rolled his eyes and flicked his own handful of soap suds at Claire which she tried to dodge, unsuccessfully. “Yeah, well, love does that to you.” 

Claire nodded mindlessly as she spared a look over at Kaia, who was laughing at something Jack had said. Her heart fluttered in her chest and when she picked up a cup to dry it off, she found that she knew exactly what Dean meant. 

Tag list (ask to be added or removed)

@anotherdowneyfan1 @tearsofgrace @quxxnxfhxll @rebelangel67 @professorerudite @adsdragonlover @wantstoflyafraidtofall @goblinwritergay @cassgetoutofmyass0907​ @nguyenxtrang @destielskygalaxypalace @im-your-huckle-berry

[norestwithoutlove]

Hi, I just finished reading to build a home (quite literally just then) and it was one of the best stories I’ve ever read. everything was so cohesive and beautifully done and has inspired me to do some writing of my own. How did you manage to keep track of minor details and plots throughout the book continuity wise, with such a large word count, thats something most authours cant do and it made it feel so much more personal and immersive. this fic was a wild ride, sorry if this sounds weird btw i dont usually do this.

Hey !! sorry this one took me a while to reply to ! thanks so much for this message it made me beam - i’m glad the fic made you want to use your own voice as well! writing is such a balm especially in times like these, so i hope you’re loving it.

holy shit i’ve just gone over this and this is a LONG answer so i’m very sorry for the essay in advance. regarding continuity and minor details:

from like very early days (essentially day one of writing) i had a very clear vision of where i wanted the fic to go, and what the major plot points were (the night of the fight aged 18 and everything which caused it, even that it would take place on the roof, sam’s overdose happening in the middle of dean’s drunk love confession, the chapter 59 love confession which leads to them FINALLY getting together happening in front of the fire and cas giving dean his poetry book, the dedication saying ‘to dean, i still do, and always will’. all of that was just sitting rotting all other thoughts in my mind and so i had to type it all out at the bottom of the word document to get it down and make sure i didn’t forget. here’s an excerpt of that very early days plan (the scene where dean comes out to sam in the hospital!!! one of my absolute favourites):

other things came later, like the wedding + concussion scene, and the scene where dean waits out in the treehouse all night, which honestly was SO cruel of me and really added to the tragedy of the chapter 38, 40, 42 arc. but yeah as with the above they sat in my brain just waiting for me to reach the appropriate part of the fic to type them up from VERY early days of the fic. opinions on this vary but i don’t like typing out the scenes that i really want to type out if i haven’t actually reached them in the fic’s construction, (does that make sense?  i’ve phrased it badly) because knowing i’m gonna get to write those scenes is what motivates me to actually write the scenes inbetween. i should probably switch this up a bit as everyone advises against this form of writing but also yeah changing routine is effort.

other things plotted in the fic came about in light of the events of the show. mary wasn’t originally gonna be such a distant mother but, as spn pushed that narrative of distance and withdrawal, i thought it would be weird for readers to read a fic which pushed the deified mary mother figure like early seasons spn. especially weird for the readers to read a deified mary fic when the mary they were watching on screen seemed to differ so drastically from the one in the story. so the mary-dean relationship (which was fortunately pretty ambiguous and stilted because of dean’s grief-brain in early chapters) had to change in tbah into the really complicated entity it became. honestly the formulation of that relationship is one of the things i was most proud of in the fic because it was so thorny and hard and felt tragically real for that reason. 

other things the progression of the show impacted: dean’s relationship with jack. obviously he couldnt be a nephilim in the tbah universe(!) so i had to consider another angle which would stilt his relationship with dean in the fic. considering the fact that in the show dean’s aversion to him came from a knot of grief, anger and dean’s own upbringing, i transplanted that idea onto the fic and said okay, but here it’s not about cas, it’s about john. dean untangles much of his own trauma with john through his relationship with jack in the symbols of his father he can find in his life: driving, fishing, and building. but also in the symbols of jimmy: cooking, talking, teaching. dean gets to choose between being a john or a jimmy to his son, but the question isn’t so simple, because people aren’t just symbols, and actually dean ends up being a dean to jack, which is perfect.

weirdly, i also think music helped with continuity. i had a few songs in my head at the beginning of the fic and they became like thematic seeds which could grow and make threads to be picked up throughout. i’d listen to these as i wrote, especially as i wrote the scenes i deemed the most significant. same thing with literature.

also thinking about the fic just became really comforting to me ! so i’d play major plot points in my head like a movie before i went to sleep, which meant by the time i got to writing them they’d had a lot of time to develop and pick up earlier themes of the fic. essentially all of the fic was written in light of the future of the fic, which really helped continuity and direction but also the weird tangled traumatised nature of time in the story. this figuring of time became really important because i think tangled traumatised time is essentially just the reality of grief-time. 

subconsciously i’m sure a lot of stuff bled through which was unintentional, the framing of events which repeat location (dean waiting in the treehouse all night as a teenager to say goodbye to cas before he leaves for university vs dean and cas going to the treehouse as adults and finding teens there who are saying goodbye to each other before leaving for university. confession 3 takes place a literal 10 years after confession 1. confession 1 comes from cas and happens on the roof just before he leaves for the uk, confession 2 comes from dean and happens drunken in the living room after dean has had an intense and ambiguous conversation/fight with his mother, confession 3 happens in the living room after dean has come out to his mother, confession 4 happens on the roof as castiel returns from the uk and repairing every sense of the rift confession 1 caused because this last confession ends in their engagement.)

once i realised this was happening i went back and combed through those scenes for lines to be repeated. an easy example of this is chapter 38//chapter 59. here’s a scene from chapter 38 as they enter the big white house:

and here’s them entering the house in chapter 59: 

i think it’s about trauma and repetition (freud has a theory about this, see Remembering, Repeating, and Working Through) in that we return to sites of trauma; trauma is reiterated in memory and in the material, but in every reiteration, we grow and heal and understand the trauma and ourselves better. it’s like an upward spiral: the first confession goes so badly, the second goes better but not good, the third good, the fourth goes wonderfully (dean’s narrative frames it as paradise: “maybe this is the sound of the trumpets on the other side”). so yeah, part of the ‘continuity’ of tbah is just a traumatised cycle of reiteration, and i say this in the nicest possible way, because these cycles of repetition are how we heal. deep down, i think that’s what the fic is all about.

tl;dr: i had a scrawl of a plan at the bottom of the word document i wrote tbah on, i thought about it a lot because it made me happy, i had a pretty clear vision of where things were going from the very opening chapter, and i was a very gay english lit student.

anyway thanks for the ask lovely i am SO sorry it resulted in the borderline novel of an answer.

[trenchcoatimpala]

🥺 can you write a fic about Dean going through withdrawal in purgatory

He was drinking A LOT before that in the show, and he was definitely always drunk at that point, so I imagine when he got to purgatory he would have had the hangover of his life.

Destiel would be cool but also BeanDenny is absolutely welcome!

I love your fics and saw your post about requests so I thought why not give it a go

Hey anon! Thanks for the request :) I’ve often thought about Dean going through withdrawal in purgatory, so I was happy to write this. 

Read below the cut.

also on archive

The first day was hard. 

Dean trudged through the forests of purgatory, eyes scanning the trees warily for anything that might try to jump out at him. His body ached and he wanted nothing more than to collapse and let sleep take over, but he had to find Cas. The angel could have gone anywhere, he could be in trouble. Purgatory was no place to be alone. 

Dean still couldn’t figure out why Cas had left him, why he’d just up and vanished without an explanation. They’d stand a better chance if they stuck together. 

The longer he walked, the more his head began to hurt and his dry mouth called for something other than water. Eventually, he had to let his exhaustion drag him to the ground, where he sat under a tree, head leaning against the sharp bark, eyes fixed towards the gloomy sky. 

“Cas,” he whispered to the tree tops. “You got your ears on?” Dean paused, listening for the rustle of wings. When no sound came, he shut his eyes, drawing in a breath against the pound of his aching head. “Cas, buddy, please. Where are you? I’m gonna find you… I’m gonna...” he trailed off as sleep finally claimed him. 

The second day was harder. 

His headache hadn’t disappeared with sleep and he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Dean forced himself to keep going, to stumble through the trees, grabbing onto their trunks to steady his unstable legs. Nausea rolled over him in waves and more than once he found his empty stomach heaving to expel a string of bile. 

His body screamed for alcohol that Dean couldn’t provide. 

But still, Dean pushed on, barely managing to fight off the monsters that got in his way, nearly losing his life twice. 

When night came, Dean didn’t even care to think about where he was stopping for the night, he didn’t survey the area or check for sleeping monsters, he just fell to the ground. 

“Cas,” he said in a whisper. “Please man, just come back.” 

The third day was the worst. 

Dean couldn’t move. He was pressed against a tree, energy completely drained from his body, queasy, head drumming with what could only be described as a migraine, and hands unfit to hold a gun. The only thing he could do was stay where he was, spit bile onto the ground and pray to Cas. 

It was probably midday when he saw him. 

The back of a dark head, a tan trench coat sweeping behind him as he walked. 

“Cas!” Dean called out, voice hoarse and degraded to a rasp. 

Cas didn’t turn around, he kept walking, each step talking him farther and farther away from Dean. 

“Cas, wait!” Dean tried to push himself to his feet but his legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

Eventually, Cas disappeared and Dean was left alone again, mind foggy, and heart aching for the angel to return to him. 

When Dean finally managed to get control of himself, it had been about a week. A week of crawling to streams and eating whatever he could find. A week of shaking hands, horrible headaches, and watching Cas, whom he’d come to understand wasn’t real, walk off in the distance, back always to Dean.

Monsters came and went, he managed to hide from most of them well enough, only fighting when he had to. But now that he’d recovered a bit, he knew he had to continue his quest for Cas, and the only way to find leads, as to the angels whereabouts, was to question the locals. 

That was how he found Benny. 

Dean was wary to trust him at first, a vampire is a vampire. But Dean had been a vampire once, and he’d met monsters that weren’t bad people, why not use Benny to find Cas. At the very least, it was nice to have someone to fight beside and cover his six. His hands would still often tremble when he held his blade, but Benny would pick up the slack, and he never questioned Dean’s issues. 

Dean didn’t notice the lingering touches at first. The squeeze of a shoulder with a hand that stayed for just a tiny bit longer than it should afterwards. There were also times when Dean caught Benny staring. His mind instantly wondered if Benny was sizing him up for a meal and would attack while he was asleep, but he quickly learned that those looks were filled with fondness. 

Sometimes he found himself wanting to lean into the touches, to run a hand over the beard on the vampire’s face just to feel the scratch of it under his fingers. There was so much pent up sexual energy building in Dean’s gut, and part of him wanted to jump Benny, slam him against a tree and capture his lips in a kiss. 

But there was always a voice in the back of his head, whispering one name over and over again: CasCasCas. 

His sudden feelings for Benny made his nightly prayers to Cas that much more desperate. He wanted to push those urges away because there was only one person -angel- that he wanted to be with, even if he was too much of a coward to admit it aloud.

As the days went on, and the hunt for Cas seemed to grow more and more futile, Dean’s want for a beer or a finger of whiskey dulled and Benny’s soft touches grew more frequent. 

Finally, Dean gave in. 

Benny kissed him hard and Dean let the vampire have his way. 

Two days later, they found Cas. 

Seeing him again, made guilt burn in his veins, like he’d somehow betrayed someone he’d never even been with. 

His attitude changed towards Benny, and even though there was hurt in Benny’s eyes, Dean couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge what they’d done. Being near Cas again reminded him of how much he’d missed him, how much he… 

Dean supposed that he hadn’t just gone through alcohol withdrawal, he’d gone through Cas withdrawal too. He’d been so used to the angel always being there, always a constant, always a shoulder to lean on. And being back in his presence made him want to reclaim what he’d been forced to give up. 

Maybe once they got out of purgatory he’d finally have the balls to tell Cas how he felt, or maybe he’d just disappear back into the bottle he’d been deprived of. 

Dean already knew which one he’d choose, but pretending it could go differently gave him the strength to climb up to the portal. But when Cas slipped through his fingers, the decision was made for him. 

The first drop of alcohol after purgatory sent fire burning down his throat, and Dean shut his eyes against the feeling he’d missed so much. The alcohol took away some of the pain, and he knew that no matter how long he went without it, he’d always end up running back, nestling safely against the curve of the bottle, warming his body against the flames that the liquid offered.

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[heller-a-good-time]

HERES THE MINI FIX-IT FIC IVE BEEN WRITING ALL WEEK! HAD TO GET IT OUT BEFORE THE FINALE TONIGHT SO ENJOY

This was the tenth night in a row that Dean wandered around the bunker completely wasted. He would stumble into bookshelves and chairs and inevitably, more booze, while his entire world seemed to spin and a goofy smile was plastered on his face. It was the only time he felt like he was able to smile.

Sam would always be asleep, or on a late night date with Eileen. Whenever he came back he’d find Dean in his drunken state and try to encourage him to stop drinking for the night. He would usually fail and then decide to leave him be.

Because he knows.

Dean never took all the times Cas was presumably dead very well. In fact, every time it had happened, it wasn’t pretty. But Dean had never been like this. Seemingly so broken that it was impossible to put the pieces back together again. It was different this time.

Dean couldn’t deal with the world sober anymore. He’d tried.

Everytime he did, he’d hear Cas’s speech ringing in his ears. When he closed his eyes he could still see his angel’s smiling face. After finally confessing his love.

And then the regret would shortly follow.

Because Dean couldn’t help himself but think that Cas was gone because of him. He wanted to go after Billie. He led them into that room with no escape plan. He was Cas’s true happiness.

And then after those thoughts would cement themselves into his brain for the evening, he would get rid of him in the most effective way he knew how. He would drink. He wouldn’t just drink until he was dizzy and euphoric, he would drink until everything went black and he couldn’t feel anything.  

Because even through all the clumsiness and the giggling, he could still hear his voice.

I love you.

Just like all the other nights, Dean could still hear him. He reached for a new bottle of scotch off their shelf in the map room before falling into a chair with a glass already in hand.

He poured himself a refill, almost missing the glass completely. His limbs felt like Jello and the room wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to focus. But eventually he got enough whiskey into his glass.

As he took his first sip of his new drink, he made the mistake of letting his eyes wander down. He looked down at the table he was sitting at and he read the name Castiel over and over again.

Carving his name into the table with the rest of his family’s initials was the first thing he did when he returned to the bunker. He refused to let himself relax with a beer in his hand until he completed that task.

Because even while he was fighting Chuck—the person he’d been hellbent on killing for months, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cas.

But now when he looked down and saw his name everytime he sat at this table, it felt like it was mocking him. It just felt like a glaring reminder of who he couldn’t save.

Goodbye, Dean.

Dean took another sip of his whiskey. He could feel his burdening thoughts only getting louder. He hated himself for looking down at this damn table.

He pushed his glass to the side and closed his eyes. He laced his fingers together and propped them up on his elbows. A tear slipped down his face.

His voice was harsh and weak as he babbled into the void for no one to hear, “C-Cas.....Cas please.....I need you.....You’re my best friend......You’re family.” His lip quivered as he started to break down. He knew that wasn’t what he should say to him. But the one thing he wanted to say felt like it was trapped on his tongue. He’d suppressed himself from saying it all these years to the point where he felt like even when Cas wasn’t there and it was now known to Dean that his love was requited, he still couldn’t say it. He could only say everything else that he used as a replacement for that three letter sentence.

By now Dean was crying and covering his eyes with his hands. Little gasps escaped his lips in between his attempt to continue praying to the angel.

“Cas....Cas.....Please......Please come home.” He sobbed. He then got to overwhelmed to keep going.

He desperately reached for his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey. He knew now that he really needed to black out tonight. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

He let his head sink all the way down. His cheek laid against the wood and his arms were sprawled out on either side of him. His tears slowly rolled down his face and left wet spots on the table.

He didn’t even have the strength to get up to refill his glass. He didn’t even have the strength to calm himself down. He had given up on getting himself drunk enough to make him numb. Instead, he was feeling everything a little too intensely.

Probably because he just kept trying to push it down. And now it was starting to rise to the surface and he didn’t know how to cope with it.

He’d stayed in a state of shock for longer than he expected. The crippling sadness had started to settle in the first night while they were researching a plan on how to kill Chuck. But he’d grabbed the alcohol early enough that his emotions couldn’t overpower him in time.

But then it finally hit him the following night.

When him and Sam were supposed to be celebrating, Dean felt like he wanted to throw himself off the top floor of a building. He didn’t let Sam see him break down though. At least, not at first. But after ten straight days of his favorite coping mechanism failing him, Sam witnessed some tears here and there. He’d tried to comfort him. But he knew there was nothing he could really do to fix him.

Dean stayed motionless as he silently cried against the table for he doesn’t know how long. It felt like hours.

The only thing that snapped him out of it was the whooshing sound of wings behind him.

It made Dean let out a loud gasp but he knew he had to be drunk. The alcohol in his veins had to be making him image things.

He felt a hand placed on his left shoulder.

“Dean.”

No. It can’t be.

He lifted his head slowly before looking over his shoulder. When he saw a tan trench coat he immediately stumbled out of his chair before failing to stand on his own and falling to the floor, the chair he was sitting on tipped over in the process.

When Castiel bent down to help him up and his piercing blue eyes stared into his, Dean couldn’t breathe. His mouth just hung open as he looked back at him.

He was here. Standing in front of him. His angel. Without a scratch on him. He still looked as beautiful as he always did. And Dean wanted so hard to not trust it. But every fiber in his being wanted to believe he was really standing in front of him right now.

Cas tried propping Dean against the table but it was no use. Dean was already practically launching himself into him, hugging him. His tears had transitioned from sadness into pure joy. His crying got so intense that he was gasping for air and his vision was too blurry to see.

He hugged Cas as tightly as he possibly could. Almost as if he was terrified he’d disappear again if he didn’t.

At some point he felt Cas hug him back—more gentle considering Dean was practically struggling to breathe.

They stayed in the embrace for several minutes as Dean silently cried into Cas’s shoulder, staining the fabric of his trench coat. All Cas could do was hold him and smile. He’d missed him. They’d missed each other.

Dean turned his head to the side as he had just begun to compose himself, “Cas.....Cas is this really you?”

Now it was the angel starting to get emotional as he answered, “Yes. I promise you, It’s really me.” His voice cracked in a way that Dean had only heard once before as he was saying goodbye to him for what they had thought would be forever.

Dean’s mind was flooded with so many questions that he was too baffled to even speak coherently, “H-How did you.....Why is this...”

Cas finally pulled away from the hug because he wanted to look at him again. When he saw Dean’s tear stained face, his smile grew. He couldn’t believe he was home. He couldn’t believe he had Dean back. He then realized Dean was kept in suspense waiting for his explanation. He cleared his throat and tried to answer him as composed as he could, “The empty.....it’s loud now. All the angels awoke and rivaled against her and eventually got so desperate for sleep....she set us free. I-I woke up in a random field and had been trying to find my way back, and I....I heard your prayers.”

Dean watched a tear actually stream down Cas’s face. It immediately prompted him to pull him into another quick hug. He knew he had to cut it short otherwise Dean would probably never let go of him ever again.

At some point while they were both trying to contain their crying, the realization that Dean had heard the sound of wings, which had almost become unfamiliar to him at this point, made him gasp again like he did when he heard them ten minutes ago, “Wait a second, you have—“

“My wings. They’re back.” Cas continued to flash Dean the widest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He knew how badly Cas had missed them. And hell, he’d earned them.

The two things Cas wanted had been returned to him.

Dean nodded and felt like he could talk to him now without bursting into tears, “That probably has something to do with Jack being the new boss.”

Cas got excited just by the mention of his name, “That was the first thing I heard over angel radio when I returned......You did it. You beat him.” His good mood seemed to be dampened a little as he looked down, “I should have been here to help.”

Dean almost scoffed at his self pity, “Cas....I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you.”  He looked over at the table at his empty whiskey glass and suddenly noticed how sober he felt. Dean was just plastered and sobbing his eyes out on the table but when his angel returned to him all of his senses went on high alert. The room wasn’t even spinning anymore.

They both felt air settle in between them after the mentioning of Cas’s sacrifice. Dean couldn’t help but replay the moment in his head over and over like he’d been doing for the last ten days. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he should have told him. He wanted to tell him the three words he’d been dying to say for so long, but he knew if he said them in that moment, Cas only would’ve disappeared faster. So all he could do was stand there, frozen in shock as he realized he was losing the most important person in his life.

Cas sensed the tension that was building due to the silence, “We don’t have to talk about it.” He looked down again, seeming a little sadder than he was before. Clearly he’d never expected to face Dean again after his confession. And now he was terrified of rejection. So he figured it would be best if both of them forgot it happened.

But Dean couldn’t forget. He sighed and took a step closer to Cas, “No, I want to talk about it.” The way Cas looked at him in surprise made Dean’s stomach do flips. He reminded himself he needed to keep going. He kept eye contact with his angel as he spoke, “Cas there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a very long time.”

Cas tried to silence him, “Dean it’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” He knew either way whatever he told him would be potentially bad. He feared rejection. But he feared the other possibility even more. He was terrified if he heard those words from the man he loved, he’d feel truly happy again. He was scared of going back. He couldn’t watch himself get dragged away from Dean for a second time.

But Dean didn’t listen, “Actually I do. Because I learned from losing you that I can’t be gutless and in denial anymore. Not with you, at least. Because I didn’t realize how little time left I had to say it. And I’ve blown all my other chances to say it.”

All these years Dean had wanted to. Sometimes he actually convinced himself to do it. But then as the words came out of his mouth, they weren’t what he had in mind. It was always, You’re family or You’re my best friend or I need you or I missed you, buddy. And he felt stupid every single time it happened.

He saw the worried look of Cas’s face and he suddenly realized why he didn’t want to hear it, Dean sighed and took another step closer to him, “Cas, I don’t know if this makes me selfish. But I’m willing to lose you again just so I can finally tell you.”

Cas grew teary eyed again. This was something he’d waited over a decade to hear,  “Then say it.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment as he felt all the walls he’d built up over the years fall. He’d tried so hard to just look at Castiel, the angel, as his best friend. But he couldn’t. He was so much more than that. He always had been.

He opened his eyes again and noticed Cas had taken a step closer to him. They were a mere inch away from each other. He let the angel’s blue eyes pierce into his soul as he stared deep into them, “I love you too.”

The weight of the words immediately came crashing down on him. But he didn’t have enough time to emotionally deal with it because Cas was already kissing him. Desperate and passionate.

Butterflies exploded in Dean’s stomach. He could barely even catch his breath. This was happening. His angel was kissing him.

He wasted no time kissing Cas back, smiling against his lips as he did it. He’d waited so long.

Both of their eyes fell closed as they melted into the kiss. Dean placed his hands against Cas’s cheeks while Cas held onto Dean’s hips. They moved even closer until there was absolutely no space between them. Their lips moved in perfect harmony and it felt as though they were each other’s missing pieces.

Dean’s head was swimming in euphoria and his heart couldn’t stop racing. He’d kissed plenty of people in his life. More than plenty. But he’d never been kissed like this. So lovingly.

And now that he knew what it felt like, he never wanted anything but this ever again. Kissing the person he loved was way better than he ever would have imagined.

Cas completely caught him off guard when he pushed Dean down onto the table, finally causing them to break away from the kiss. He landed on his back as his eyes widened at the angel who was currently in the process of climbing on top of him. His knees were planted on either side of Dean’s hips and Dean laid in between them.

Dean assumed Cas would lean back into him and reconnect their lips, but instead he let his hands travel up Dean’s chest before finding his shoulders and grasping at the material of his flannel. For the next thirty seconds they worked together clumsily shrugging it off of him.

As Cas took the now discarded flannel from Dean’s hands to toss it aside, his eyes landed on something on the table.

And within a few seconds, Castiel was close to tears again.

This prompted Dean to sit up and look at Cas slightly confused but nonetheless concerned, “What’s wrong?”

Dean proceeded to follow his gaze when he didn’t respond. And he realized Cas was looking at his own name carved into the table.

Dean stared at the name for awhile before giving a sad smile and eventually saying something, “It just didn’t feel right not being there.” His voice came out soft.

Cas blinked away his tears and nodded. He then did lean into Dean that time and give him peck on the lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

(This will probably be up on AO3 too when I get a sec)

[mittensmorgul]

Happy Resurrection Day

A short fic in celebration of Dean and Cas’s 12th anniversary!

Rated: T Words: 3652

Summary: The world didn't end, and Dean and Cas finally get to choose each other. It only took twelve years and a little road trip back to where it all started.

Read it here on AO3

One random morning in mid-September, a few months after the world was left in their hands once and for all, Dean woke up to the nagging feeling he was forgetting something. There wasn’t really much to forget anymore. There was no looming apocalypse, no new catastrophe on the horizon. The biggest dilemma he’d faced in the last few days was whether he had enough milk to make pancakes, or whether he’d have to run out to the store before breakfast.

Sure, he and Cas took the occasional salt and burn. Easy hunts they could usually dust in a day. Sam had taken an extended road trip to see the country and try to figure out what he wanted to do with himself now that he was truly free to explore what life after Chuck could look like, but Dean already knew. He’d known for a good long time that he loved his life, loved the bunker, and loved hunting. And for whatever reason, Cas had just decided to stay, no strings attached. Whether Dean was itching to get out on the road for a long weekend on the slimmest excuse of a hunt that just as often as not turned into a detour to some tourist trap or other, or whether Dean just wanted to sit at home bingeing an old tv series or having a movie marathon, Cas seemed equally content with the slate of activities Dean conjured up for them.

He hadn’t put it into so many words, and he definitely hadn’t said it to Cas, but Dean also loved that Cas had stayed with him.

So it was strange waking up with an unsettled swirling in the pit of his stomach. He held a hand up to his forehead, checked his eyes and throat in the mirror to make sure he wasn’t coming down with something. He didn’t want to get Cas sick, if he was. He’d already survived Cas’s first cold as a human, just barely. They went through so much soup in a week, Dean was starting to wonder if Cas was just milking it for the room service. He had to admit that Cas letting him walk him through the highlights of Dr. Sexy while he was curled up in a blanket nest by his side wasn’t the worst thing he’d had to endure. But for now, Dean wasn’t sick. He just had a restlessness in his bones and no idea how to cure it.

He pulled on his robe and ambled out to the kitchen. Coffee would help him figure out what was eating at him, surely. Only Cas had beat him to it, which was unusual enough to amp up that uneasy feeling. Dean usually beat Cas to the kitchen most mornings, so walking in to a full pot of coffee and no other sign of Cas had him wondering if something was wrong. He poured himself a cup and set off in search of Cas, and whatever he was up to so early in the morning.

He found Cas sitting at the table in the library scrolling around on the internet. Dean just stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment, studying his posture as if it might give him some clue what sort of mood Cas was in. Human or not, Cas still had the intense focus he’d always had as an angel, and aside from pausing to take a sip of his coffee or navigate to the next page, he barely moved from his position hunched over the keyboard. Rather than startle him, Dean waited until Cas put his mug down before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

“Mornin’ sunshine. You’re up early.”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, giving him a guilty glance before going back to his work. “Yes, I had been hoping to surprise you later, but I apparently didn’t wake up early enough for that. I hope you slept okay.”

Dean shrugged as he walked around the table and sat down across from Cas. He took a sip of his coffee before replying.

“Mostly. Woke up feeling restless, and I couldn’t figure out why.”

Cas nodded at him as if he understood exactly what Dean meant. “I did, as well. And then I checked the calendar. I assume you know what today is?”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he performed a few calculations. Days all sort of blended together after a while, but they’d made a trip up to Henderson for supplies on Wednesday, and that was only a couple days before.

“Friday?” Dean eventually replied, hoping he was right.

Cas laughed, but shook his head. “It is Friday, but it’s also September 18th.”

Dean blinked at him for a moment as he mentally rocketed back to a run down old gas station where the windows shattered the first time Cas had ever tried to introduce himself. He’d just clawed his way out of his own grave, and the local newspaper had helpfully supplied him the date, and the knowledge that he’d been in hell all of four months. No wonder he’d woken up feeling weird. He might’ve forgotten the date, but somewhere deep down, some part of him would always know it.

Dean came back to himself to find Cas waiting patiently for him, like he always did. He took another sip of his coffee and set the mug down, recalling what Cas had said before sending him off down disturbing memory lane. Better to focus on the present than linger in that particular bit of the past.

“So you were planning a surprise?”

Cas shrugged. “I thought maybe we should do something to celebrate. People celebrate these sorts of milestones, yes?”

Dean wobbled his head side to side and made a face. “Pretty sure Hallmark dosn’t make a card for this one.”

Cas frowned, reaching up to shut the laptop as if he’d made some terrible faux pas, but Dean quickly dropped his hand atop Cas’s to stop him.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate it anyway,” he said more quietly, smiling at Cas. “It was a pretty noteworthy occasion, you pulling me outta hell. What did you have in mind?”

Cas’s frown deepened. “That’s where I’ve been stuck all morning. It felt inappropriate to suggest going to visit your gravesite, and taking you out to dinner seems… trite, in light of the occasion.”

“You know me, Cas. I’m always up for food,” Dean replied, trying to lighten the mood. “Plus it wasn’t just about me being un-dead, you know. It’s the whole reason we met in the first place. And look how that turned out.”

Cas had finally begun to smile again, and turned his attention back to the computer. “We didn’t actually meet face to face until late the next night when you summoned me. There was a bit of a delay due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Dean thought about that for a minute, nodding as he remembered the events of his first few days back on earth. “Well, if you wanna do it right, we could always take a road trip back to that old barn, see if it’s still standing.”

“Have you been back there since then?” Cas asked, curious now.

Dean shook his head. “Driven by it a few times over the years, but never went back inside. The whole farm’s completely overgrown. I figured someone would’ve gotten freaked out by all the weird symbols and burned the place down by now. It was still standing as of a couple years ago.” That got Dean curious. “Have you been back?”

“It’s been a while,” Cas said quietly. “I used to fly there sometimes, when I still could. It was a quiet place to think.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Then that’s what we should do. We’re taking a road trip. I know at least three great diners between here and there I haven’t taken you to yet. We can make a whole weekend out of it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Cas replied, finally shutting the computer.

“Good. Breakfast first, then we’ll head out. Have ourselves a little resurrection day road trip.”

Dean grabbed his mug and stood up. He’d need to get dressed and pack a bag. They could have a quick breakfast if they were gonna be stopping at Dana’s Diner for lunch. It was a bit of a detour, but the burgers were worth it. He flashed a grin at Cas.

“I’m gonna pack a bag and grab some cereal before we hit the road. Meet you in the kitchen in 20?”

Cas nodded and shut the laptop. As Dean made his way out to the hall, he heard Cas mutter quietly, “Happy Resurrection Day,” as if he was testing out the sentiment. He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

The drive to Illinois took most of the day. It could’ve been a lot quicker, but in addition to Dana’s, they hit a steakhouse on the outskirts of Chicago for dinner before swinging back south toward their destination. Dean bypassed the Astoria Motel where a mirrored ceiling shattered by Cas’s angelic voice had once nearly killed him. He pointed it out as part of their trip down memory lane, but pulled up at a different motel clear across town with the excuse that it would be a shorter drive back to the barn in the morning. Their room was a lot less shabby, and a lot less pay-by-the-hour feeling than the Astoria, so Dean felt it was a win all around.

As they settled in for the night like they had every night they’d been on the road together, Dean let himself really feel the usual longing the three foot chasm between their beds brought out in him. Most nights he’d just roll over and pretend to fall asleep while mashing that feeling down as hard as he could. Tonight, though, he lay in bed staring across that gap, wishing he could make some excuse to crawl into the other bed. Of all nights, and in this particular place, he really just wanted someone to hug until dawn.

The specific someone being Cas.

In the dark, in the quiet listening to Cas’s breathing even out as he drifted off, for one moment Dean allowed himself to admit that he didn’t just love that Cas had stayed with him. He loved Cas. Full stop. Dean lay there until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, holding on to that feeling and knowing he’d have to crush it back down in the morning.

He dreamt of what could’ve happened in that barn, if he hadn’t stabbed Cas that first time they’d met. With twelve years of history between them now, and Dean’s quiet revelation that he was in love with Cas, his dream-self went through a series of alternate endings to that meeting ranging from love confessions to things that he would definitely not be enumerating to Cas over breakfast the next morning. It made for an excellent night’s slumber.

Morning came without the restlessness the previous day had. Dean opened his eyes to the dawn light seeping between the curtains to shine a golden spotlight on Cas’s face, which was smiling back at him.

“Hello, Dean. I take it you slept better last night?”

Dean yawned, but didn’t quite feel like getting up yet. He wanted to enjoy this surreal moment for just a bit longer. Instead he stretched out under the blankets and propped himself up on his pillow to get a better look at Cas.

“Yeah, you?”

Cas propped himself up on his elbow, no longer in the little beam of light, and blinked at him. “I’m reserving judgment until after we have coffee, but yes. It seems to have been satisfactory.” Cas frowned for a second, and Dean was about to ask what was wrong, when Cas asked, puzzled, “If yesterday was Resurrection Day, what does that make today?”

Dean must’ve still been a bit loopy from his late night thoughts, the restful sleep, and what he could recall of the dream he’d been having. He never would’ve blurted it out around a yawn otherwise, but that’s exactly what he did.

“It’s countdown to Cas day.”

He froze for a second after the words had escaped into the wild, and then slowly turned to take in the fond look on Cas’s face.

“I’m already here, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t twelve years ago. I didn’t even know your name yet.”

“You do now,” Cas replied. “How should we celebrate it? Since I sincerely hope you weren’t dead set on a complete reenactment. I don’t have the power to rattle the roof or blow open the doors anymore.”

Dean grinned at that and sat up. “Yeah, I don’t really wanna shoot you, either.”

“I appreciate that,” Cas replied, sitting up on the edge of his own bed opposite Dean. He looked right into Dean’s eyes, as if attempting to convey some deeper meaning to his words, and spoke quietly. “I’m glad you finally believe in me.”

They sat there for a long moment before Dean finally nodded. “‘Course I believe in you, Cas.”

They took turns in the shower and packed up their bags. After a quick breakfast on the way to the farm, they drove down the overgrown dirt road that led to the barn. Dean had to leave the car a good way back down the road, and they hiked through the knee-high scrub to the broken old barn door. Dean picked up a shattered timber and tossed it out of the way as he pushed his way inside.

“Man, this place is a lot less intimidating looking in broad daylight,” he said, as the two of them stood in the doorway and took in the faded symbols Bobby had painted on every surface of the interior. Broken glass still littered the floor, now covered with a heavy layer of dust.

“It looks different now, somehow,” Cas added. “Smaller. Which is strange considering I was so much larger the first time I was here.”

Dean turned to him and smiled. “Yeah, but now you’re seeing it human. It’s gotta be weird.”

Cas shrugged, and walked around the perimeter of the barn, examining the sigils out of old habit. “This has always been a quiet place for me,” he said, touching a warding sigil with his fingertips before continuing on. “Nothing unholy could find me here. I could be alone with my thoughts.”

Dean noticed a few of the sigils Cas stopped by, and didn’t recognize them. A collection of carefully drawn wards drawn much smaller and in a different shade of paint that stood out from all the rest he’d watched Bobby create twelve years ago.

“Did you add those?” he asked.

Cas nodded. “Angel proofing. Or at least, concealing.”

Dean thought back to all the times Cas had been running or hiding from Heaven and the rest of the angels. When he’d been human and had nowhere to go, and instead of coming here he’d run in the opposite direction, because Dean had kicked him out. A bolt of guilt shot through him and nailed his feet to the floor. This was a place Dean hadn’t come back to because it reminded him that he’d been to Hell, reminded him that Heaven had wanted him for their own for reasons that frankly horrified him now. But for Cas, this was the place Dean had first met him, a place that for him would forever be about the moment he was truly introduced to humanity. It had been kind of a shit introduction, if Dean was honest with himself. But twelve years later, after all the shit had played itself out, Cas had finally made his own choice about his life, and he’d come back to where it all began.

“Happy resurrection day,” Dean said as he stared at Cas from across the room.

Cas turned to him, the look of surprise on his face quickly turning to a smile. “It is a bit like a resurrection, isn’t it? We’ve come all the way back around to where it started, and we’re free of it all now.”

Dean just nodded dumbly, letting the enormity of it sink in as Cas walked over to stand in front of him.

“I don’t have wings or the power of Heaven at my back, but I do recall something I said to you that night. Good things do happen, Dean. And they have.”

“And here we are again,” Dean said, clearing his throat. Both of their lives had changed that night, and they’d spent so much of their time fighting against everything in the universe since then. The one constant had always been each other, even when they’d totally fucked it all up and broken the natural order and sacrificed themselves to fix it all again, they’d done it to save each other. At the end of the road, and the beginning of their journey, Dean couldn’t keep his feelings bottled up any longer. “I love you, you know.”

Cas sucked in a shocked breath of air and blinked at him for a moment, before a grin broke across his face, lighting up the gloomy, dusty haze in the barn. “I love you too, Dean. I’m so glad I’m here with you.”

Dean shook his head, finally prying his feet free to shuffle closer to Cas. He reached out a hand to rest it on Cas’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck. “No, I mean, I love you. I think I always have, and I know I always will, but I only really just figured it out. I’m in love with you and you’ve put me back together in ways you can’t even imagine. You might’ve resurrected me and healed me more times than I can count, but you helped make me a whole person, Cas. And I love you.”

Dean felt the prickling of tears behind his eyes and struggled to hold them back. Like he always did, Cas stared into him, right through him, and lifted a hand to Dean’s cheek.

“I’d hoped it was obvious when I chose humanity, when I chose to stay with you, that I felt the same way for you, Dean. I didn’t have any idea how much knowing you would change me, how much you would teach me about humanity and what makes life worth living when I first walked through those doors. One thing I did know, though, was that I already loved you. I had no idea what that even meant yet, but I would learn.”

A slightly manic laugh escaped Dean’s lips at the euphoria of hearing Cas’s words, seeing the heartbreaking honesty in his face, and wondering how long it was polite to wait before kissing him. Cas gave him a relieved smile, as if he’d been holding it all in far too long, and Dean let out a sigh as he pulled Cas to him.

“Love at first stab, huh?” Dean asked, smiling right into Cas’s face.

“Don’t belittle it, Dean. I loved you even before then. The moment I laid a hand on you in Hell. Healing your soul and reuniting it with your body, resting you gently in your grave and waiting for you to emerge again.”

“You do know how fucked up that was, right? You couldn’t have just dug me out?”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “It was Heaven’s orders. I never thought to question them. But yes, it has bothered me many times over the years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s bothered me more than once that I tried to thank you for saving me from Hell by stabbing you in the heart.”

“It worked, though,” Cas replied, one eyebrow raised. “I’m still here with you.”

“Better than cupid’s arrow,” Dean muttered, and then grimaced at his own terrible reference. It amused Cas, though. “Okay, enough awful jokes. Are you gonna kiss me already?”

Cas made a considering face, as if he hadn’t already made up his mind. “Happy resurrection day to both of us, then. I suppose we know exactly how to celebrate it now.”

Dean took that as the invitation it was, and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met tentatively at first, and then more confidently as they clung to one another in the gloom. The exploding lights were all internal this time, but no less spectacular. Dean shuffled his feet and heard the crunching of broken glass, and reluctantly pulled back from Cas.

“We should probably find someplace less dangerous if we’re gonna keep going…”

Cas nodded his regretful agreement. With one last look around the old barn, they pulled the doors shut.

“We can come back next year, if you want,” Dean said, taking Cas’s hand and leading him back to the car. “Make it an annual thing.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Cas replied. “The annual resurrection road trip.”

“Next year we bring a broom,” Dean added, leading Cas through the weeds. “Maybe a picnic.”

Cas laughed, letting his hand go when they reached the car.

“So what do you wanna do next?” Dean asked as he climbed back behind the wheel. “We still technically got the rest of the day to celebrate.”

“You mentioned several diners you wanted to introduce me to, and it’s nearly time for lunch,” Cas replied.

Dean thought over their options, then leaned across the front seat to plant a kiss on the corner of Cas’s mouth, just because he could. The look of surprised delight on Cas’s face was more than worth it. “How much of a detour are you up for?”

Cas gave him a look of mock pity. “Dean, I’ll go anywhere with you. No detour is too long if I have you to share the journey with.”

Dean gave him a proper kiss, with a promise of more for later. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

[deancas-fanfiction]

A Daydream Away

Chapter 1/?

Summary: After multiple couples go missing from a resort in northern Minnesota, Dean and Cas are forced to pose as a couple to investigate the mysterious entity. As Dean and Cas navigate their fake relationship, it leaves Dean questioning what's real and forces him to confront his feelings for Cas.

A story in which Cas is human, Dean is sometimes an idiot, and Sam acts as matchmaker.

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: fake relationship, case fic, sharing a bed, human!cas, Sam ships Dean and Cas, fluff, eventual smut

available on ao3 Read Ch. 2 Here

“I think I found us a case,” Sam announced, entering the Dean Cave with his nose buried in his laptop.

Dean sighed in irritation, pausing the movie he and Cas were in the middle of watching. “This better be good, if you’re interrupting our movie night. You know we’re in the middle of Half Blood Prince, and Cas hasn’t seen it.”

“Metatron did upload the movie content into my –” Cas argued, but stilled at Dean’s murderous glare.

“Being told what happens and actually experiencing it are two very different things, Cas. You have to experience it firsthand.”

Cas opened his mouth to argue but didn’t get the chance, as Sam interrupted him by loudly clearing his throat.

“Are you two done?” Sam looked at the two of them in irritation and Dean had to stifle a laugh at the almost stern expression on his face.

“Sorry, Sammy. The floor is yours. Tell us about your case.”

“Okay, so get this. There’s this resort called Grand View Lodge in Nisswa, Minnesota where couples have reportedly gone missing. In the past month, three couples have disappeared without a trace. No evidence of foul play and all of their personal belongings were left behind as were their vehicles. None of the other guests saw or heard anything.”

“That does sound suspicious,” Cas agreed. “Did the missing persons have anything in common?”

“All I can ascertain from the articles and social media posts is that the couples were very happily in love and were staying there on their honeymoon. But there isn’t a lot of information out there. I think we need to check it out, but we’ll need to pose as a couple if we want to gather information and attempt to lure whatever entity this is.”

“Go for it,” Dean shrugged. “When are you and Eileen leaving?” Dean noted the sudden look of discomfort on Sam’s face as he awkwardly shifted the laptop to his other hand.

“So that’s the thing…”

Dean groaned. “Of course.  It’s never that simple.”

“Eileen is on a hunt in Ohio right now. She just got there, so she won’t be back in time.”

“What about Jody? Or Donna?”

Sam shook his head. “Neither can get off work. Claire and Kaia are both out on a hunt, too. That leaves just the three of us.”

“So…?”

“So, that means you and Cas will need to pose as newlyweds, and I can come as backup. The resort is looking for temporary help for the holiday season so I can work at the front desk and interview the employees for information, while you guys can lure the entity and interview the guests.”

Dean choked on his beer and barely managed to sputter out a response. “You want me…and Cas… to pose as a couple? Are you serious?”

“Fine.” He shrugged.  “Me and Cas will pose as a couple then, and you can get a job there. I just thought you’d prefer not to work at a customer service desk.”

Dean felt a flash of irritation surge through him at Sam’s suggestion. The idea of Sam and Cas posing as a couple left a bitter taste in his mouth. Imagining them holding hands or having a romantic dinner just the two of them caused him to involuntarily clench his teeth and form a fist. He wasn’t jealous. No really, he wasn’t. It just – wasn’t right, okay? Sam and Cas probably wouldn’t be able to even pull off posing as a couple. So really, for the sake of the case, Dean should agree to pair up with Cas. All for the sake of the case. That’s all.

Suddenly Deans thoughts consisted of posing as a couple with Cas. Well, not just a couple, but Cas’ husband. Dean’s mouth went dry and oh. Okay. That scenario suddenly seemed a lot more pleasant. They’d have to hold hands, but really, that wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe add a few lingering touches and cutesy nicknames into the mix. But that shouldn’t be too bad, he’s used to Cas being in his personal space. In fact, he’s sort of grown accustomed to it at this point. Cas has always gravitated towards Dean’s personal space. While it was a mild irritation at first, it evolved into a comfort as it was something so expected. Besides, since Cas became human with the help of Jack, they’ve spent much more time together. Movie nights were nearly a nightly occurrence at this point. Their thighs always pressed against each other as they fight over the shared bowl of popcorn. Or in the mornings, when Dean rests his hand on Cas’ lower back for balance so he can reach a mug from the top shelf. Or when Dean tries to teach Cas how to properly play pool by standing behind him, helping him aim the cue. Really, the list goes on. So, pretending to be married shouldn’t be that much different than their current dynamic.

Huh. That’s a new revelation. Before that thought can cause too much panic, he buries it deep inside and ignores the way it made his stomach swoop. “No, no. You’re right.” Dean cleared his throat in an attempt to hide the way his voice sounded borderline frantic. “I would be a terrible employee. I would probably be fired for flirting with the guests or yelling at my boss.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, great. So, you and Cas can pose as newlyweds, just as I suggested. I’ll book the cabin and we’ll head out early in the morning.” He stomped out of the room and Dean mirrored his brother, rolling his eyes in return.

Cas wordlessly grabbed the remote and pressed play, leaning back into Dean as the movie resumed.

---

The next morning, they were on the road much too early, in both Dean and Cas' opinion. They stayed up later than was probably wise to finish their movie. Then Cas had questions, to which Dean had to patiently answer and suddenly it was nearly two in the morning. Meanwhile, Sam was bright eyed and happily sipping his thermos of coffee as he lowered himself into the Impala.

"Dean, if you wanted to keep sleeping I could --"

"Don't you dare." Dean warned. "I'm driving, now shut your mouth." He heard Sam sigh in response and turned the key, feeling the car rumble beneath him. He pulled out of the garage and turned onto the road, getting a start on the nine-hour drive to Nisswa.

The first hour of the drive was nearly silent. The radio played quietly in the background as all three occupants took the time to fully wake up. Every now and then Cas would nudge Dean's arm from the backseat, his silent way of asking for Dean's coffee. Dean would roll his eyes, but nevertheless pass him the thermos with a smile tugging at his lips.

The silence wasn't broken until Cas complained that Dean finished the coffee. This, of course, prompted into an argument over who was entitled to the last sip of the coffee, only to be broken by Sam's frustrated interjection.

"Guys. Cut it out. You can get more coffee when we stop for gas."

"Gas station coffee is not the same as bunker coffee."

"Yeah, they don't have almond milk at gas stations, Sam."

"See? Not the same." Dean chirped, enjoying teaming up with Cas against Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and changed the subject. "We should probably discuss the case in more detail before we arrive."

"What's left to discuss? Couples went missing while banging on their honeymoon. Probably a routine salt and burn of some pissed off ghost."

"Delicately put, jackass." Sam scoffed. "I was thinking, we should discuss your relationship with Cas."

"My what?" Dean's pulse quickened and he internally cursed his body for betraying him.

"Your relationship with Cas. You know, for the case. We need to come up with a back story so that way if someone asks how you met, Cas won't say 'I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.'"

"That is how we met, though." Cas insisted.

"Dude, you can't just tell people that!"

"We just need to think of a way to twist it, so it sounds normal." Sam explained. "So, for example, Dean could say he met Cas during a bad time in his life and Cas saved him."

"That's putting it lightly," Dean commented. "Cas? Does that work with you?"

"Fine."

"You're grumpy today." Dean observed, meeting Cas' eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I'm not grumpy. I'm tired. And I didn't get my full amount of coffee."

"You drank your whole thermos and half of mine. How much do you normally drink?"

"More than that."

"You have a caffeine addiction, you know that?"

"Well, at least you two already have the bickering of a married couple down." Sam half joked.

Dean rolled his eyes and focused back on the road; lips drawn into a straight line.

"What else do we need to cover?" Cas resigned, breaking the silence that once again settled over the car.

"Length of relationship."

"Ten years." Cas answered easily.

Sam pursed his lips. "Why don't we say you've been together for 5 years, and friends for the first 5. That will make you fit the same profile as the other missing couples a little more closely."

"Jesus, Sam. We'll be fine, we've been in situations like this before."

"I just don't want your cover blown. We have no one else to fill in. We need to discuss what your wedding was like, who proposed, how long you were engaged --"

Dean cut him off with a sharp look. "The wedding was small, just close family and friends. No one proposed, we both talked about it and together we agreed to get married. The engagement was short, less than a year. How's that for our cover?"

"That's great. Cas, did you get all that?"

"Yes. Can we stop and get more coffee now?"

"I thought gas station coffee wasn't good enough for you?"

"It's not. There's a Starbucks at this next exit. I saw a sign."

"Cas, we're not even halfway there yet. Dean's not going to stop yet."

But sure enough, Dean was already turning towards the exit, cataloguing the way Cas' lips turned up at the corner.

The remaining hours of the trip passed rather quickly. Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in tune to his Zeppelin tape, Sam read lore in preparation of the case, and Cas happily watched the passing snow-clad landscape while sipping on his venti coffee.

As they neared the town of Nisswa, the scenery gave way from a frozen landscape with nothing but bare trees and the occasional truck stop to boutique shops, rustic restaurants, and log-cabin-like structures that served as hotels and cafes. As they neared their turn off the highway, Sam requested to be dropped off in town so he could secure a car rental and check into his own hotel. Sam would be interviewing for the seasonal front desk position early the next morning, so he couldn't be seen arriving with Dean and Cas.

"Oh! Before I forget --" Sam paused after stepping out of the Impala and dug around in his bag. He retrieved two gold bands and handed one to Dean and Cas. "Your wedding rings."

Dean slipped his on and scowled at his brother. "Where did you get these?"

"A pawn shop," Sam said sheepishly. "I grabbed them when I went out on a supply run last night. Don't lose them - I'm pretty sure they're actually gold."

"It's probably a knock off and will turn our fingers green."

"No, Sam is right," Cas observed. He held the ring close to his face, carefully scrutinizing it. "It's 24k gold. It's actually quite good quality."

"Thank you, Cas." Sam said pointedly. "You two better get going and check in. I made your reservation under "Smith." I'll be at the resort tomorrow morning for my interview. I made a very persuasive resume so I should be hired no problem. Just keep your phones on you and check in with me occasionally, yeah?"

"I know how to do my job, Sam. Cas and I will get settled in then we'll talk to some of the guests at breakfast tomorrow morning. Don't worry about us. Worry about your interview," Dean said with a wink. "Cas, you've been upgraded to shotgun, let's go."

With that, Sam stepped away from the car, making room for Cas to climb in. "Be careful, guys."

"Yeah, you too," Dean replied. Cas then shut the door and Dean pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the highway. "You ready for this?"

Cas nodded, fidgeting with the gold band on his finger. "We met 10 years ago and started dating 5 years ago. A few months ago, we decided to get married and we had a small wedding with our closest family and friends. Now we're on our honeymoon."

"Yeah, that - that's good."

Dean cautiously glanced over at Cas. His hair was tousled from leaning against the window, with the left side matted down and the right side sticking straight out. He had an air of contentment radiating from him, no doubt from the dangerously high levels of caffeine racing through him. Since becoming human, Cas formed a very dependent relationship with both coffee and sleep. Sleeping became his favorite pastime as he was finally able to experience dreams. However, that meant he would often sleep for the better part of the morning, only begrudgingly getting out of bed when Dean would pound on his door to inform him breakfast, and more importantly coffee, was ready. Even then, Cas would be grumpy until he was halfway through his second cup of coffee.

Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he always enjoyed his morning routine with Cas. Cas would silently sit at the table, watching Dean dish up breakfast. Dean would slide a fully loaded plate of eggs and bacon towards him and watch as he took his first bite. Cas would always groan in appreciation (which okay, maybe Dean enjoyed that part a little too much, but he would never admit to that either) and then Dean would refill Cas's mug. At that point Sam would enter the kitchen, just back from his run and openly making a disgusted face at the heaping pile of bacon on Dean's plate. Ignoring him, Dean would sit next to Cas, and Cas would scoot closer to Dean, soaking in his body heat due to the endless cold draft in the bunker. That's the only reason Dean would lean back into him. No other reason, whatsoever, regardless of the knowing look on Sam's face.

Dean ended his train of thought there and signaled for the coming turn which featured a large stone sign with "Grand View Lodge" neatly printed on it. The road was illuminated by string lights and lanterns along it and Dean could see cabins in the trees along the road, with warm yellow lights illuminating the darkness around them. The Impala's headlights shone on a sign directing them towards the main lodge for check-in. The resort grounds seemed beautiful and very quiet. Dean could understand why it was a popular destination for newlyweds. The cold winter air made the glowing cabins seem all the cozier. He could imagine the resort in the summer, filled with families and children running towards the lake with sunscreen and beach towels in tow. It would be quite the opposite than it is now, in mid-December with below zero temps and not a single person in sight.

The first sign of life they saw was the dozen cars parked outside of the main lodge for check in, otherwise no one was out of their cabins. "It's going to be hard to talk to the guests when it's this cold. No one will want to leave their cabin." Dean frowned.

"Sam said there's an optional itinerary over the weekend for all of the guests. We'll have to sign up for some activities so we can interview them."

Dean sighed. "As long as it involves free food, I'm in." He put the car in park and traded the warmth for the frigid cold. It was a sharp cold that hurts your lungs as you breathe it in. It was the kind of cold that you don't spend time in unless you have to. Dean pulled the jacket tight against him and motioned for Cas to follow him inside.

The main lodge was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it. The interior was covered in dark wood, with large leather couches set in front of a roaring stone fireplace. A small gift shop was off to the side and there were large rustic chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Dean could hear silverware clattering and subdued conversation which hinted to the presence of a restaurant down the hall. The front desk was near the doors and they quickly approached to check in.

"Good evening," The receptionist beamed. Her name tag identified her as Brenda. "Welcome to Grand View Lodge. Have either of you stayed with us before?"

"No, Ma'am," Dean responded, leaning against the desk.

"Well, welcome!" She said cheerfully. Dean could already anticipate that she and Sam will get along perfectly once he’s hired. "Here's a map of the resort grounds for your reference. It shows all of our cabins and the four restaurants we have on site. You can dine in or order room service. All of that information is on the back of the map. Now, can I get the name your reservation is under?"

"Dean Smith."

Brenda typed in the name and clicked a few times then looked up at Dean and Cas grinning. "You should have mentioned you were on your Honeymoon! Congratulations, love birds!" Dean felt his face heat up and avoided eye contact with Cas. 'Minnesota Nice' was very real and it was making Dean very uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Dean choked out. "Could we get our keys now? We just had a really long drive and we're tired."

"Oh, of course! I don't want to delay your honeymoon activities," she stated not-so-subtly. She opened a drawer and handed Dean two key cards. Then she grabbed their resort map and circled their cabin number.

"Do you have a list of activities you offer?" Cas questioned.

"Oh! Yes! This weekend we offer both wine and bourbon tasting, depending on your preferences. We also offer couples' cooking classes, and our spa is open for couples' massages. I see you’re staying for a week so here's a pamphlet of all the activities we're offering this month," She explained as she handed over a brochure. "We also have an ice rink which is open until 8pm and free to all guests."

Cas opened his mouth to assumingely ask a question that would only drag out the check-in process, so Dean interrupted him.

"Great, thank you. We appreciate your help," He then grabbed Cas by the hand and pulled him back into the cold.

"She seemed nice," Cas observed.

"Too chipper. Sam will love her."

Cas laughed at that. It was the kind of laugh that shows his perfectly white teeth and makes his eyes slightly crinkle. It was the kind of laugh that was Dean's absolute favorite.

Dean glanced at the map, noting where to drive to get to their cabin. It appeared to be a short drive from the main lodge. He started the car and turned back onto the gravel road they entered on. Following the signs, they were led along a winding road towards the south end of the grounds, where the now frozen lake is located. The trees were dense, and the cabins were growing sparser as they continued along the road. At last, they pulled up to a quaint log cabin that matched the number on their keys. The cabin had large windows and a wrap-around porch that would be perfect to utilize in the summer and fall. The porch light was on, illuminating the front yard which was littered with large pine trees.

He put the Impala in park, and they grabbed their bags out of the backseat. The night was still and silent. There were no lights except for those on the porch. A large expanse of stars and sky nearly took Dean’s breath away. Growing up, Dean would always take solace in the night sky littered with millions of stars. With the ever-constant change of living on the road, the stars were always there. When John would drink too much or be gone too long on a hunt thereby forcing Dean to parent Sam, he would step outside of their usual run-down motel and take a deep breath, taking in the stars. As they got older and Sam’s nerd tendencies began to develop, he would tell Dean all about the constellation. They’d sit on the sidewalk with their backs against the brick motel and Sam would just talk. He’d point out the shapes in the stars and talk about the history and the namesakes behind each one. It was a most welcoming distraction from the constant shit in Dean’s life.

Even now, as he looks up at the brilliant set of stars unhindered by city lights, Dean can’t help but feel grateful for where his life is. Sure, his kid is basically God. And he’s helplessly in love with his best friend who was an angel but is now a human and probably doesn’t feel the same way about him and now he has to pretend to be his husband at a romantic resort, which can only go poorly. Then there’s the fact that his mom was dead, then she was alive, and then she was dead again. Really, just piles and piles of trauma that he’s had to deal with. But God, Dean still feels lucky. Because he has a family. He has Sam, Cas, Jack, Eileen, Jody and the girls. During those years growing up he always assumed he’d be dead before living a life like this.

A gust of wind whips across the yard, stinging all exposed skin which pulls Dean out of his spiraling thoughts. Cas is mirroring Dean from moments ago, also gazing up at the night sky. “I’ve been alive for so long yet the beauty and wonders of this life will never cease to amaze me.” Cas simply states, as if that wasn’t the most poetic shit to ever come out of someone’s mouth.

At a loss for words, Dean clasps Cas’ shoulder and leads him through the snow and into the cabin. He unlocks the door and welcomes the immediate warmth radiating from inside the cabin. The cabin is incredibly cozy. The walls are a dark wood, with leather sofas next to a large electric fireplace and a big fluffy rug. The kitchen is off of the living room, which on a normal occasion would be perfect to cook some proper meals. Then there is a beautiful wooden table in the dining room with dim lighting that would be perfect for a romantic meal. Dean cut off that dangerous train of thought before it went anywhere that made this situation even more complicated.

Speaking of complicated, Cas was no longer by Dean’s side. Frowning, he walked down the hallway that led towards the bathroom and bedroom. It was in the bedroom that he found Cas hovering in the doorway and oh.

Oh.

There was a king size bed in the center of the room with rose petals scattered over it. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne rested in the center of the bed with a box of chocolate next to it.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Cas looked at Dean questioningly. “Who?”

“Sam. He told them it was our honeymoon! Then this happened.” He gestured at the array of items in the room.

“I see no problem with this behavior. They needed to know we were on our honeymoon for the sake of the case. And we got free champagne and sweets. Usually, you’re all about the free stuff.”

Dean sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s just – never mind. It’s late and I’ve been driving all day. Guess I’m tired.” Cas just nodded and set his bag down. “So, uh –” Dean started, rubbing his hand over his face. “Want me to take the couch tonight? We can switch off every night or something.”

“Dean,” He sighed. ”You said yourself that you’re getting too old to be sleeping on couches and pull outs. Hence, the memory foam in the bunker. Besides, we’re playing the role of a newlywed couple this weekend. We should probably keep up with appearances and not make it seem like we’re already sleeping in separate beds like unhappy middle-aged couples who are too stubborn to admit they need a divorce.”

Dean barked out a surprised laugh. He loves when Cas goes on his weird tangents. “Yeah, okay Cas. That bed is huge, so it shouldn’t be a problem anyway.”

Cas just nodded and began digging around in his duffel bag. Meanwhile, Dean removed the ice bucket with champagne from the bed and set it on the dresser. Then he brushed off as many rose petals as he could, determined to clear the bed of any romantic connotation. When he was satisfied, he began stripping out of his jeans and flannel. It was a long day of driving and his body was no longer accustomed to sitting for so long, so he was ready for bed at this point.

Dean stopped mid-action, catching sight of Cas doing the same. Cas removed his jeans and then lifted his shirt over his head. Dean swallowed, trying to

tear his eyes away from his best friend’s body but holy shit – Cas is toned. As he bent over to put his discarded clothes back in his bag, the muscles in his back and legs jumped out. His golden skin was completely on display and as a result Dean’s brain was short circuiting. Panicking, he grabbed his toothbrush and locked himself in the bathroom as an attempt to get his breathing and body back under control.

So much for uncomplicated.

[do-you-have-a-flag]

Destiel shippers come get ya’ll juice!

SO @deadwright​ and I were inspired by Some Tumblr Posts and the twitter Roadhouse  Wedding stuff and keep writing headcanons about Thee Destiel 2021 Married Ever After S16 SPN Romantic Event Of The Season, so here’s that. 

Arranged in order of marital chronology and cutting out us keysmashing too much:

oh man imagine all the burgers they get catered for the reception dean got it done himself he would’ve been so particular about the catering bridezilla cas would probably be THEE bitchiest bridezilla

it's also definitely that trope where all the other hunters ect KNOW that that many of them and the wedding party are essentially a target for trouble so everyone spends the 24 hours leading up to the vows taking out every beastie who shows up on a revenge kick out of sight because they'll be damned if they let ANYTHING stop this wedding and Dean and cas are both having their marital jitters oh god im not good enough what if something goes wrong about mundane things while monsters are getting their ass kicked outside AWWWWWWWW for sure for sure, they’re hunter royalty this wedding is a big deal like half the attendees are nursing injuries but grinning widely

they don't do the can't see eachother before the wedding thing because you KNOW dean would be fixing cas' tie last minute

dean wears a blue pocket square to match cas' tie cas wears a FLANNEL SQUARE

I’m obsessed w the idea of cas giving dean a little bit of his grace in a small bottle on a chain for him to wear or like a wing feather or some part of him god the grace in a bottle breaks me every time in fic dean probably builds cas something but every time i try to think of something specific i choke up

i was thinking like what if trading grace is as close to a romantic gesture as angels have and he's like..... technically i left some grace behind in your mark when i dragged you from the pit and dean is like ARE YOU SAYING WE'VE BEEN MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME? 

they are so sweet i’m on the verge of tears the ability to do anything by halves in their relationship was burnt out by like the second return from the dead moment they are too insane to be anything less than All In And Then Some

at one point someone was like hey cas do you want to run your vows by someone as practice? and he started reading what he'd prepared and it devolved into Biblically Grand Statements Of The Power Of Love And The Redemption Of - ect ect ect and it's because unlike the confession scene he's had TOO much preparation and overshot into uncanny angelic vibes he makes some edits because he know the expressions he gets when he reads it aren't what he intended

dean writes page after page after page of unused drafts, none of them are particularly floral

he does the cliche of ripping up his vows and improvising at the altar, something he gets mercilessly teased for because he swore he wouldn't but it classifies as a chick flick moment

THAT’S SO PEAK HIM OH MY GOD and you knoooooow you just KNOW it’s beautiful and emotional and everyone is crying

god the NOVELTY of dean being emotionally honest in front of people......im gonna faint YEA yeah... ONE TIME ONLY DEAL he thinks loudly at Sam's smug expression

anyway, at the wedding dean is the one who spends the whole ceremony with like crying cat meme eyes after the confession scene i’m pretty sure the minute the vows start cas is in the same boat USELESS HUSBANDS dean gets passed a handkerchief for his tears and immediately goes to use it on cas' face and they both laugh sob love the idea that everyone individually thought they were too tough to cry but they all broke at various stages yeah sam definitely starts to choke up just standing up there with his brother sam chokes up before the ceremony even started, like probably when he was pinning on dean’s corsage

anyway, Jack dancing with his two dads at the reception CAS’ BEST MAN / FLOWER BOY FLOWER MAN let him heelie down the aisle with the flowers LITTLE MAN GO NYOOM who makes him a little flower crown he wears with a proud lil smile? claire ofc, with those hair braiding skills? she makes it BEAUTIFUL flower crown: on nails: painted dads: MARRIED!!!!

when they say i do and kiss and everyone is cheering you can't convince me that someone doesn't let off what is either a gun or a dubiously legal firework in celebration jack pops a few lightbulbs in his uncontrollable joy

Dean and Cas can't let go of each other, it's at LEAST one point of physical contact for the rest of the reception PERIODT

CAN YOU IMAGINE THEM DANCING TO AIR SUPPLY

they definitely didn't do the wedding gifts thing but a few mysteriously show up anyway; discuss waffle iron from sam bc he remembers the becky incident meanwhile claire gets them flavoured lube because she’s an insane little mean girl she gets them a sampler package with like novelty flavours, gotta spring extra for a wedding PIE FLAVOURED LUBE

it’s gonna be the party of the century omfg you KNOW it! that dancefloor going OFF the BAR is FLOWING

dean gets dragged up onto the bar to make a speech and there's a moment at the end where he drags cas up there too and they're being playfully yelled at not to scuff it and there's hooting and catcalls as dean and cas kiss and dean gestures rudely before almost falling backwards off the bar before cas grabs him and climbing down is less romantic or dignified but he couldn't care if he wanted to

meanwhile sam and claire are outside defacing the impala with silly string and lewd graffiti and tin cans tied to the bumper for the going-away oh it is one hundo percent a just married atrocity there's enough condoms hidden in the car that they're still finding them months later

anyway wanna hear my disgustingly soppy honeymoon roadtrip concept? YOU KNOW I DO OKAY SO

you know at some point dean must have said some sad thing like for the longest time he never thought he'd live long enough to get married and the only circumstances he could imagine was hooking up drunkenly with a stranger at some vegas wedding scenario like that's the best he would ever get and he thinks it's mostly forgotten but then during their cross country honeymoon roadtrip castiel does in fact navigate them to las vegas and quietly mutters that the legal veracity of the little chapel on the city limits is dubious at best and they're already married so it couldn't do any harm and they get officiated by an elvis impersonator and a woman wearing more sequins than fabric throws cheap confetti over them

and after that they stop into every venue they can find that would be friendly to them to pretend they're eloping and at one point dean even pulls out the fbi id badges and the officiant is under the impression he's facilitating some sort of covert workplace romance 

one place is a kitchy little house that's clearly just the couple who run it opening their strange home to anyone who needs it and have been since the 70s and Castiel thinks for a moment when they're asked to pin something to the collection of stuff on the walls and ceiling before pulling the receipt for the pie they'd shared earlier in a dinner out and scrawling his and dean's name on it to be added to the clutter 

and at one point they stand ankle deep in a pond while some old hippie lady wraps their clasped hands together with soft fabric and chants something that dean knows isn't real magic but hey he's not going to tell her that and after the ceremony they sit on the grass and feed each other sweet bread to complete the binding or whatever and it's nice but it doesn't compare to the ranch where they both tossed their cowboy hats in the air and were given a horse to ride to their camp site

i thought about riverboat gambling for point one seconds and now i know in my bones that one of their many weddings was on a riverboat, they made the captain officiate after cornering him on deck in like five minutes, the crew sent them complimentary champagne and they threw fries at the birds following the boat while sharing it straight out of the bottle

if destiel can go canon multiple times they can get married multiple times CHANGE MY MIND THEY GET MARRIED SO MUCH the MOST married i just want them to get gay cowboy married

eventually i want them to end up at the beach bc dean has canonically never been to the coast their road trip is to get to the other coast

they send just married postcards back to sam from every stop sam stops feeling hurt he was left out of their vegas elopement wedding by the third wedding postcard he recieves sam saves them ofc bc GOD can you imagine them looking at the postcards on their 30th anniversary or s/t 🥺 showing their grandkids and recounting the story of each wedding there's a seashell taped to the last one

cas gets a terrible sunglasses tan and dean gets burnt on the tips of his ears and there's sand on sand on sand in all their clothes and at one point dean is blinking away salt water and cas is gripping his arm and saying something about the coral by them in the water and dean thinks that he likes floating beside cas a lot better than flying

dean has cas pick ice cream for them from a truck and hustles at carnival games enough to win them both big novelty foam hats and they both go back to their room and pass out immediately post shower sprawled across the bed and still smelling like sunscreen and salt water

dean tucks a little cocktail umbrella behind cas’ ear

cas spends most of the next day in dean's zepplin shirt and a pair of shorts they only picked up once they got there because neither of them thought to bring beach clothes, they sit on the balcony and dean sips his beer and idly plays with the ring on cas' finger and they play a game of what fictional monsters could they beat in a fight

cas’ true form is the size of the chrysler building he can fight king kong easy that's what he says and dean's like okay but what about mothra and castiel is like how would YOU defeat mothra and dean just goes "bugspray." GDJSGSHSGSHDSJ DEAN WOULD

in honour of misha putting his whole pussy into the role, cas wears a dress in at least one of their weddings

it's at one of those theme parks that's just historical re-enactments and people get their vows renewed there and there's costumes for the photobooth and the staff are like how long have you been married? castiel says two weeks, three days, eighteen hours, and twenty five minutes................ approximately.  and the photo is cas in a classical wedding gown and dean is wearing the veil with his old timey suit and there's a moose head on the wall behind them wearing the top hat he was given and they send that print with an arrow pointing at the moose with sam written next to it

i keep thinking bitch!!!! you KNOW WHAT!! you KNOW that dean is the type a guy who's heart races every time he feels his wedding ring/is always fiddling with it in the weeks after the wedding, like an anchor to remind him they really got married this is real he would NEED that physical reminder that he can have good things

he’s never ever going to take it off, the tan line will be permanent

how funny it would be if dean gets injured on a hunt and the monster guy is about to kill him and then the lights blow out and the monsters are like what was that and dean is just like "[spits blood] that's my husband." and nek minnit cas has just ripped through them thanks to teleporting in angel style and is just like Cas: [heals dean] "you're late for movie night" Dean: "Well if you'd gotten here earlier i would have been on time." Cas: >:| [kisses him]

cas is like i didn’t burn the popcorn this time you BETTER be alive to see it

[qwertyfingers]

we know that bobby only watched ds9 and dean watched the tos movies for sure which implies he's seen tos as well (plus he calls jack spock). so what do you think everyone's favorite trek is? sam is without a doubt a tng fan first and foremost. i think out of all tos movies cas prefers the wrath of khan because he Feels Things when kirk and spock do the ta'al through the glass. charlie has definitely seen some trek (we've seen her llap), do you think she's into tos first and foremost? anyway let's talk about star trek nights in the bunker.

OKAY SO I HAVE. MANY MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS. SORRY THIS IS SO LONG.

like. like of COURSE bobby only likes ds9 of course he does i could have told you this without the show becuase like. bobby is That Bitch. i think rufus will have watched TOS at least because leonard nimoy worked hard on linking jewish faith and practices into the vulcan lore and i think that would mean something to him. bobby will catch rufus smiling at him sometimes while they’re watching ds9 and ask him what all gruffly and rufus will smirk at him and say something about sisko with jake and bobby with dean and bobby will just cough and take a swig of whiskey and rufus will raise his eyebrows but let it slide. rufus definitely makes a comment once about dean&cas being like jake&nog that totally flies over dean’s head but bobby is all knowing eyebrow raise about.

i think cas and jack would really like discovery. while it has some issues with inconsistency, pacing, being a little dark, it also does better than the other TV treks at utilising the nature of film as a medium to instill a sense of wonder, at space and the world, and that’s something they’d really appreciate. i have my own issues with disco, but an obol for charon is as close to the central core of trek that disco ever gets. cas and jack also like that one in particular because they like listening to all the different languages being spoken. they all love michael (everyone loves michael). cas’ faves are stamets and reno because they’re mean and gay, jack’s fave is tilly because she’s excitable and bright and he latches onto that. dean likes reno because she’s got spunk. sam’s fave is airiam and he will never forgive them for killing her off. sam, cas and dean all feel an uncomfortable kinship with both ash and culber - they’ve both been the one with monster teeming under the surface, controleld by something not themself, but they’ve also all spent that time in hell/purgatory, separated from everyone they love.

thinking about episodes that would really get to them all, darmok is. THE ONE. i have a whole unfinished essay about darmok as the platonic ideal of star trek; the perfect distillation of everything trek is SUPPOSED to be about. it doens’t always get there but by god it tries! that speech michael gives in the disco s2 finale - “There's a whole galaxy of people out there who will reach for you. You have to let them. Find that person who seems farthest from you and reach for them.” - that’s what darmok is about!!! it’s all about a situation where real communication seems impossible, where everything we know about talking and learning has broken down. and picard says, okay, i will find another way. i can’t relate to you, you can’t relate to me, but by god i’m going to try. we all meet people we have trouble communicating with in our lives, and often, those people will not care about changing their own ways to accommodate us. for people with autism, adhd, psychosis, the list goes on, this is a very common occurrence. it’s exhausting and frustrating and alienating. darmok is all about crossing that barrier. about reaching for someone through a world of difficulty and learning how to talk. learning how to share something with someone who seems out of our reach. it’s beautiful, it’s heartwrenching, it means more to me than i can easily put into words! 

anyway i think the bunker fam would experience a lot of emotions watching it together. there’s defintiely a lot of hugging eachother, sam cries a lot and won’t look at anyone until after the episode ends. jack just asks a lot of questions and talks about his progress learning sign language with cas. dean snakes his hand into cas’ halfway through and doesn’t let go. doesn’t show the emotion on his face, but he clutches harder at the emotional beats. cas runs his fingers through jack’s hair and thinks a lot, and decides not to say anything unless dean talks first. its just a Lot for everyone. 

dean def makes them marathon all the TOS and TNG movies. it’s an experience everyone needs at least once. i think you’re right about cas and TWOK with the ta’al through the glass, but also ‘this simple feeling’ and the hand hold would make him feel crazy. bones being the one that spock entrusts with his katra DEF makes dean feel some type of way because as much as destiel is kirkspock-coded, dean IS bones, and seeing spock trust bones so completely despite how at odds they were when they first knew eachother would dig deep into dean’s psyche and make him more than a little bit nutso. the movies are way too long for jack so he mostly sits and plays animal crossing while they watch and looks at the screen when everyone else gasps or when something exciting is happening that holds his attention for a while. sam’s fave is nemesis precisely because it’s terrible and he loves how camp it is.

dean has definitely seen all of trek. i refuse to believe someone who watches as much tv and films as dean wouldn’t sit and watch the whole shebang. i think he’s probably seen TOS and the TOS movies more than the others because its easier than sitting through 7 seasons, but i think rather than that being his favourite he’d just have really strong opinions about the best episodes of each one? like if you asked him what his favourite is he’d say you can’t answer that because they’re all so different from eachother

VOY - bride of chaotica, non seqitur, macrocosm for the favourite episodes. seven, janeway and tuvok would be his favourite characters. he think toms a bit of a knob but also feels a kinship with him for the similar brand of bab dad-ism but he wouldn’t be able to put that into words. he’s also a fierce defender of threshold being a good episode (he’s right for that)

DS9 - our man bashir it’s our man bashir. he doesn’t dislike ds9 but its very plot heavy and he didn’t care for it when he was younger. rewatching it after living through multiple supernatural wars he’d probably appreciate it more. i know for a fact he cries every time there’s an episode about sisko being a good dad. jadzia and garak are his faves

TNG - he LOVES q. he also absolutely will not be caught dead referencing how much loves q after cas comes into his life because sam will do the little brotherly knowing eyebrow raise at him and he will die of embarrassment. he regularly references ‘there are four lights’ because he’s a fucking nerd. he has made cas watch elementary my dear data and fistful of datas a half dozen times each at LEAST. cas KNEW how dean was going to be about the cowboy hat he’s defintiely got into full cowboy getup at home just for watching movies and in cas’ head star trek is fully to blame.

TOS - oh there are so many good TOS eps to choose from. obv he loves most of the series becuase TOS has MANY banger eps, his favourites are probably like. mirror mirror, amok time (baby dean defintiely had some kind of crisis watching it for the first time; i know the rituals are intricate). i know deep in my bones that dean watched the conscience of the king (introduction of the tarsus iv massacre) once and then spent his entire teenage years writing fic about that in his head, whether he posted it or not. dean related too much to those experiences of shared hunger. city on the edge of forever is one of everyone’s faves for a reason (and i’m STILL mad we never got a closer take on that episode in spn it could have been so fun). 

ENT - he definitely thinks enterprise is stupid and he’s not wrong but he has also definitely watched it and been very repressed about the whole thing. mans was like oh i feel a kinship with malcolm reed the obviously repressed queer man. i will never examine this feeling ever again thank you <3 he also makes fun of archer for being obsessed with, of all sports, water polo. shran is his favourite character because he’s a little shit and makes him laugh, and t’pol, because t’pol is a badass and he’d appreciate that. i can’t remember the title of a single episode off the top of my head though lol.

i can see what you’re saying about sam being a TNG stan. i’m conflicted though, I feel like TNG’s generally the favourite of 1) obnoxious nerds who think knowing trivia facts makes them smart, 2) men desperately trying to seem masculine and 3) people who’ve watched it three times and have extremely complex thoughts on the personhood and rights of robots. i could see sam fitting into the third group, but people who are in it for the robot feelings are a coin flip between voyager and tng being the fave, and i just have a feeling that voyager would be his favourite. i know kid sam is getting gender envy watching voyager in shitty motels while dad and dean are out, trying to find the words for it. his first semester at stanford he talks a friend into giving him the janeway haircut and rides that high for months. sam’s favourite characters are seven and EMH. 

sam and dean have definitely had dozens of long drawn out debates about philosophical topics in star trek. do the holograms deserve rights and if so which ones. are the romulans and vulcans still meaningfully the same people. was spock right for trying to foment reunification by going undercover on romulus. can the borg be redeemed. etc etc.

i haven’t seen any of picard at all so i can’t comment. i also think sam and dean probably read a lot of the trek books? they’re pretty common to find in secondhand bookstores and cheap, would have been even cheaper back in the day. sam probably doesn’t care for them much, dean has a few solid faves though. i’ve only read the disco books so i can’t comment anything specifically (besides the fact that i think dean read dead endless and cried like a baby), but some of the TOS and DS9 books are gay as hell and i know dean was eyes emoji-ing that shit. 

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: God is Dead?

I might start updating twice a week because I am writing this story at BREAKNECK speed. this is my favorite chapter so far. enjoy! (special thanks to @friedchickenangelwings once again for sticking with me and my incessant rambling about this story at all hours during holidays)

Fic Summary:  Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching. 

“You know?” Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?” 

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.” 

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off. 

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side.  “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.” 

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat. 

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?” 

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.” 

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen. 

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.” 

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with Lucifer without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?” 

“Ash, what about the human rumors?” 

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?” 

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.” 

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.” 

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?” 

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo… 

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.” 

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm. 

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too. 

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad. 

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon. 

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,” 

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?” 

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!” 

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope. 

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?” 

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.” 

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks. 

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question. 

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.” 

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?” 

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?” 

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?” 

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him that. “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.” 

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like that and then leave. It’s a bitch-ass move. 

“Yo, Deano?” 

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“How do we jail-break ‘em?” 

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…” 

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.” 

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.” 

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.” 

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time. 

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.” 

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?” 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?” 

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.” 

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s. 

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.” 

tag list: (ask or dm to be removed or added)

@dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus

[rusty-tetanus-nail]

[Gunshots] Through Your Heart

a The C*W Sniper x Reader fanfic

The story of how You finding your One True Love finally released the Jackles Tapes™.

Author’s Note: If you actually read this fic, I will judge you.

It's the first non-virtual con since the finale and you've paid half a month’s rent to see the monkeys on stage awkwardly talk their way out of giving the gays what they really want. You've long since lost hope of anyone so much as acknowledging Cas' confession, but as long as Jensen keeps his sexy silence intact you're at peace with that. 

The fandom knows what's up anyway, even if the C*W tries to silence everyone involved with the show. You chuckle, remembering that one time when you opened tumblr and everyone was talking in riddles about [gunshots]. It took you at least an hour to figure out where that particular meme came from, but that's just season 16 for you. The confusion is half the fun. Of course the fandom would come up with the most ridiculous explanations as to why the cast and crew aren't allowed to validate Hellers, instead of just facing the reality that they all don't get it and have wrong opinions about things.

You open yet another nondescript brownish looking door, trying to find your way back to the panel hall. Whoever thought colour coding every single signpost and door instead of just using letters and arrows to point the way deserves to be fired. 

You take a deep breath to calm down and look at your phone.

"Fuck!" You curse out loud. You're so late. The main panel has already started and you're still utterly lost with no one nearby to ask for directions.

...not that you would ask for directions. You shudder. Egh people. 

You hear a faint cheering coming from behind the dark wooden door at the end of the deserted corridor. Bingo!

You run across the hallway, so ready to see the convention madness for yourself and open the door with a grin.

Instantly, the cheering grows louder and then subsides, leaving room for someone to speak. You look around confused. You can hear the panel just fine, but you’re not in the main hall.

Cautiously, you take a step forward. No that's not quite right. You are in the right room, but in the wrong place. Instead of being on the ground floor looking up at the actors on the stage, you’re on a balcony of sorts, hidden away near the ceiling. From here you can see everything. The whole crowd of fans, the stage. It's not the first row seat that you paid the other half of this month’s rent for, but it’s a nice view nevertheless and feels far less claustrophobic than downstairs with all the people around you doing their best to give you a headache. Maybe you'll just stay here and enjoy the rest of the show. No point in missing more of it than you already have.

You lean against the railing and watch as a staff member gives the microphone to a nervous looking fan. You cross your fingers, silently cheering them on, hoping they'll get through this in one piece.

The fan starts to talk and from the corner of your eyes you see something move. Startled, you stumble forward over the railing and for a moment you're certain that this is how you die.

A hand grips you tight by your several layers of flannel and pulls you back onto the floor of the balcony saving you from certain death.

You look up in a daze and see the silhouette of your saviour illuminated by the ceiling lights standing over you holding a sniper rifle. Somewhere in the distance you hear the fan continue their question ignorant of your almost death.

Your saviour moves with practiced ease back to the railing and aims their weapon at the people below. 

Shit. This can’t be happening. You try to get up and stop them from whatever they're about to do, but when you reach the figure and grab their wrist it's already too late.

"So about the Cartwright Twi-" [gunshots]

The fan falls to their knees and is carried off as someone on stage lets out an uncomfortable laugh and makes a joke about fainting. You watch the proceedings in shock, still gripping the sniper's wrist.

"What did you do?" You bite out, more harshly than you intended. In the back of your mind you know you should probably run away instead of arguing with the assassin, but there’s just something about them that makes you feel safe and unthreatened.

"My job." A gruff voice replies and as they turn you finally catch a first proper glimpse at the sniper's face. You let go of them almost immediately.

Oh no. They're hot.

The sniper pulls their wrist close to their chest and strokes the parts of their skin that your hand previously occupied. And odd knot forms in your stomach. You take a step closer and they shift away unused to the presence of another person.

You try to reach out again, but think better of it. You don’t want to scare the beautiful person in front of you. Your hand falls down limply to your side and the sniper follows your movements with their eyes still refusing to look directly at you.

You open your mouth to ask who they are, but you get interrupted when Jensen starts speaking. Instantaneously the sniper is all business again, aims their rifle and-

“Actually I think Dean is b-” [gunshots]

Jensen bends over and starts coughing violently, his sentence hanging forever unsaid in the room.

The sniper lowers their gun and looks emotionlessly at the scene they just caused.

“You’re-” You start, but the sniper holds up their hand to stop you.

“Don’t. Just go and pretend you never saw anything or I’ll shoot you as well.”

You shake your head.

“No. I don’t think you will.” Taking a chance you close the distance between the both of you and take the sniper’s free hand, intertwining your fingers with theirs. Their breath hitches as you touch them and they lower their eyes, but don’t move away. You take it as a good sign.

“You’re the C*W Sniper, aren’t you?” You whisper astonished. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

A fan with a faintly Spanish sounding accent is given the microphone. With their free hand the sniper reaches down and pulls out a gun from their thigh holster and- [gunshots]

What was once an almost unnoticeable accent is now unrecognizable word salad. Everyone laughs and writes the incident off as the fan simply being nervous. You frown.

“This isn’t right.”

“They’ll be able to speak again in a couple of minutes.”

You tighten your fingers around the snipers hand and try to unsuccessfully catch their eyes.

“Still doesn’t make it right. You didn’t even know if they’d mention anything about-”

The sniper aims their gun at you.

“I have my orders.”

Your eyes finally meet for the first time and the previous argument is forgotten as the world around you bursts into vibrant colours. 

“What the f-”

This isn’t possible. You’ve always been severely colour blind. People don’t just randomly heal from that. You shouldn’t be seeing any of this.

The sniper's cold eyes grow warm and mirror your own in wonderment. They look around before settling their eyes back on you and a soft “oh” escapes their lips.

“You’re my soulmate.” Their rough voice takes on a heart wrenching tone and you shake your head disbelievingly.

“No. Soulmates aren’t real. They were made up for fanfics.”

“That’s what the CW wants you to think.” The sniper says with a sad smile and breaks eye contact again. “The CW’s reach and power is far greater than anything you could possibly imagine.”

You cup the sniper’s face with your free hand and softly stroke their cheek with your thumb, almost entranced at the new connection you made with the not quite stranger in front of you. The sniper closes their eyes and leans into your touch. Your heart starts pounding and you wish for the moment to never end.

“You should leave.”

“Not without you.” You reply not missing a beat, trying not to get distracted by the sniper’s full lips and delicate features contrasting their hard battleworn exterior.

“I’m not safe to be around. I’ve hurt people.” The sniper turns around and lets go of your hand, but you hold on tight, too scared they’ll disappear as suddenly as they entered your life. Clutching their hand tightly, you pull them close and swirl them around forcing them to face you.

“I don’t care.” You say resolutely. “Whatever hold the C*W has on you, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

The sniper shakes their head and looks frantically over to the stage where Jensen is about to give his phone to a staff member.

“I- I can’t. I have to- I have nothing else but this.” They aim their gun at the stage, but you gently push their raised arm down. Your sniper doesn’t resist, but their hands are trembling. They’re scared, you realise. They’re scared and they need you.

“You have me. Please, I promise. Everything will be alright. Let me take care of you.”

The gun falls to the ground and the sniper lets themself be enveloped into your embrace. You hold them tightly as they fall apart in your arms and wait patiently until they stop shaking all the while whispering sweet reassurances into their ear.

“It won’t be easy.” They mumble against your shoulder and straighten up to look into your eyes. “The C*W will want to eliminate us. I’m not their only assassin.”

“Let them come. We’ll make them regret ever messing with us.” You say with a wicked grin and your sniper grins back with tears in their eyes.

You throw your arms over your snipers shoulders and lean your forehead against theirs.

“I’d really like to kiss you now.”

“Yes please.” The sniper says, almost breathlessly and you capture your soulmate’s lips for the first time. 

Fireworks explode in your soul and the crowd cheers as the Jackles Tapes are finally released and played on the big screen behind Jensen and Misha, who take the opportunity to ask every minor to leave the room as they’re about to reenact the secret good ending of Supernatural.

[myownsuperintendent]

Fic: “Through the Years”

Scully, Mulder, Emily, and William experience life as a family through the years. Family fluff. I moved Baby #3 up five-ish years to make it less ridiculous. Rated T for mild sexual content. Also here at Ao3.

.....

They come up the stairs to her apartment, Scully carrying the bags. “This is it,” she says. “This is…this’ll be home.” Emily doesn’t say anything; she’s been quiet since they got on the plane this morning. Scully tried talking to her, pointing to the clouds and the tiny houses below, telling her about the fun things they’d do once they got to Washington. Eventually she let her sleep. She knows this won’t be perfect, not all at once. But she can’t help it: she has so much hope.

“Do you want to go in?” she asks. “See your room?” Emily nods, after a moment, and Scully unlocks the door and goes in.

Emily’s room should be ready, even though Scully’s been staying out in California with her. They ordered furniture from a catalogue—she let Emily pick out her new bed and sheets—and they packed up the things from Emily’s old room and had them shipped. She wanted it to be here for Emily when they arrived. Mulder’s been a help to her with all of it; he came over to her place to supervise the delivery. “Everything accounted for,” he told her over the phone yesterday. “I didn’t even injure myself setting up the bed.”

She laughed. “Thank you,” she said. “Really, thank you so much for…for everything you’ve done.” She hasn’t said anything to him, but she is worried that this will change things between them; she knows she won’t be able to travel as much, for one thing, and so the way they work will have to be different. She worried he might resent that, but so far there aren’t any signs of it; he seems as excited about the new direction her life is taking as she does.

“It’s nothing, Scully,” he said. “Any way I can help. Let me know.”

“Thank you,” she repeated, softly, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

And when she opens the door to what used to be a spare room, a place for her to store extra books, it’s Emily’s bedroom: everything they picked out is there. The new sheets are on the new bed, Emily’s picture books and stuffed animals are on the shelves, and there’s a night light on the wall. “Here we are, sweetie,” she says. “What do you think?”

Emily goes over to the bed. “What’s that?” she asks.

Scully looks; there’s a teddy bear sitting in the center of the bed, along with a little book. A card is propped against the bear. “Looks like it might be a present for you,” she says. “Should we read the card?” Emily nods, and Scully opens it. “Dear Emily,” she reads. “I hope you like your new room. Since I missed your birthday and Christmas this year, I wanted to give you some belated presents. Maybe I’ll see you soon. Mulder.”

Emily’s already holding the bear. “What’s belated?”

“It means late,” Scully explains. “Since it’s after your birthday and Christmas.” He didn’t have to get Emily presents at all, of course. He didn’t have to, but he did.

“Can we read the book?” Emily asks.

“Sure we can,” Scully says. She takes a seat on the bed, and Emily leans against her; she’s shy sometimes, but she seems to like this kind of proximity when Scully is reading to her. They do that a lot, because sometimes it’s the simplest way for them to be together: one that doesn’t bring up any troubles or uncertainties. The book Mulder gave Emily is called The Little Fur Family, and it has a fuzzy cover, which Emily touches gently while Scully reads.

When the book is finished, Scully shows Emily the rest of the apartment; Emily follows her, still not saying much. She carries the bear under her arm. “His name is Buttons,” she says, while they’re eating supper (Scully really needs to get groceries, after a month and a half spent in California, but luckily she found a box of macaroni and cheese in the cabinet).

“That’s a good name,” Scully says. “Would you like to call Mulder after we eat? I want to tell him we’re back, and you could tell him that you named Buttons.”

“Okay,” Emily says.

Mulder answers quickly when she calls. “Hey, Scully,” he says. “You home?”

“We’re home,” she confirms, looking down at Emily, who is sitting next to her on the couch. “Thank you for setting up the room. It looks wonderful.”

“Really, it was no trouble,” he says. “Glad to do it. Did Emily see her presents?”

“She did,” Scully says. “She has something she wants to say to you.” She hands Emily the phone.

“Hi,” Emily says, her voice coming out whispery. “Thank you…The bear’s name is Buttons.” She seems to have run out to things to say now; she looks up at Scully questioningly, and Scully takes back the phone.

“She really likes them,” she says. “Thank you so much, Mulder. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he says. “She deserves them.”

Scully smiles. “Well, thank you. I want to…I think we’ll take the next couple of days to settle in, the two of us. But after that…we’ll see you soon?”

“Of course,” he says, and she’s happy, when she hangs up the phone.

Emily wants to read The Little Fur Family again before bed, and Scully reads it to her before tucking her in, pulling the new comforter gently up under her chin. “Sleep well,” she says. “You remember where my room is?” Emily nods, sleepily. “Well, I’ll be right in there if you need me. I’ll leave the door open.” Emily nods again. “Good night, Emily. I love you.” She hugs her daughter tightly. She still can’t believe it all.

“Good night, Dana,” Emily says, in her soft voice, and Scully kisses her cheek and turns out the light.

It takes her a while to settle down—aside from the events of the day, her body’s still on California time—but she’s asleep herself when she hears Emily’s voice, suddenly. She sits up, trying not to panic, and turns on the light next to her bed; Emily’s standing next to it, crying. “Dana,” she says, “I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Scully says, jumping out of bed, stooping down next to Emily, putting her arms around her. “It’s all right now. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

“My mommy…” Emily sobs, in the most heartbreaking voice Scully has ever heard.

“I know, sweetheart,” she says. “I know it makes you sad.”

She walks Emily back to bed, tucking her in again, drying her tears and stroking her hair. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep again,” she says. “How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Emily says, still with a choke in her voice.

“I’m right here,” she says again. “And I love you so much.”

She lies down next to Emily, although there isn’t much space on the little bed. She strokes her hair back and forth, humming a lullaby off-key. She isn’t sure when Emily falls asleep. At some point she falls asleep too.

.....

Scully’s mom called to say that she’ll be late—there’s a lot of traffic—so the three of them are waiting in the living room now. Emily’s huddled into a corner of the couch. “Where are you going?” she asks, not for the first time this afternoon.

“To dinner, sweetie,” Scully says. “But you’ll have lots of fun with Grandma. And we’ll be back later.” Mulder nods.

“Why can’t I come?” Emily asks.

Scully isn’t sure what to tell her. She kissed Mulder for the first time a month and a half ago—on this very couch, while Emily was sleeping down the hall, after the three of them had spent the day together—and since then the two of them have been, well, dating she guesses is the word for it, although it feels a little simplistic considering the history of their relationship. So far it’s going well. More than well. But she hasn’t wanted to tell Emily yet, just in case. She knows it’s not a good idea to introduce things like this into kids’ lives too quickly. And that’s even in cases where those children haven’t already gone through a lot of upheaval.

So she just says, “Mulder and I are going to spend a little time just the two of us. Because we’re friends and—”

“Mulder’s my friend too,” Emily says. “Aren’t you?” she adds, quickly, glancing up at him.

“Of course I am, Em,” he says. “What I think your mom is saying—”

“Why don’t you stay here anymore, then?” Emily asks. “Why don’t we all play together? We used to, and now…now we don’t!” And she bursts into tears then, her face pressed against the cushion. “Why doesn’t Mulder stay?” she asks again, sobbing.

Scully scoops her up, feeling horrible. Emily has a point: it used to always be the three of them, whenever Mulder came over, and now it isn’t, not always. She’d thought they were still spending plenty of time together aside from their dates, but apparently it isn’t enough for Emily. She’d thought she was protecting Emily from change; instead, she’s just made it worse.

“Oh, Emily,” she says. “I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, sweetie.”

“We didn’t mean to make you sad, Em,” Mulder adds, hovering over them, looking as upset as she feels.

“Why…do you…eat dinner…without…me?” Emily asks, in between sobs.

Scully makes a snap parenting the decision, the kind she’s had to make a lot of since last year and doesn’t feel used to yet. But she’s hoping the truth will be less painful for Emily. “Emily, Mulder and I…we’ve been going on dates. Do you know what that means?”

“No,” Emily says.

Scully tries to think of an explanation that will be within Emily’s frame of reference. She’s seen a number of Disney movies, which have probably been her biggest exposure to romance, but they tend to go for the love at first sight angle. But she can’t think of anything better, not quickly enough, anyway, with Emily still crying in her lap. “You know in Beauty and the Beast,” she says, “when they eat breakfast together and they play in the snow? And then they dance?” From the way Mulder is looking at her, she guesses she sounds insane.

But Emily latches on to the explanation. “Oh,” she says. “So it’s like falling in love?”

“Well…” Scully begins. She hasn’t used that word yet, with Mulder. She’s thought about it, but she hasn’t said it out loud.

Emily hasn’t stopped talking, though. She turns to Mulder now. “Do you love Mommy?”

Scully’s breath catches. But before she can say anything, tell Emily that she shouldn’t ask that, Mulder speaks. “I do.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Emily says, although Scully’s only dimly aware of it. “But why does that mean we can’t have dinner together?” She wipes her eyes.

“We…we can,” Scully manages. “We just…we didn’t tell you everything before, because we thought it would be a surprise for you.”

Emily looks at her, her head tipped to one size. “No,” she says, finally. “Not a surprise.” Scully is beginning to get a little annoyed with this kind of reaction. Her mom (“Well, it’s about time, dear”) was one thing, and Skinner’s knowing look when he bumped into them holding hands last weekend was another. But to have her four-year-old daughter tell her that it’s not a surprise…At least Emily looks happier now, though, and Scully gives her a hug.

“How about we stay home tonight, after all?” she says. “And when Grandma gets here, we can all have dinner together.” She gives Mulder a half-apologetic look, but he doesn’t seem upset at all. And looking at him makes her think of what he just said. He loves me, she thinks. She has to tell him; she can’t let him think it’s all on one side. But there’s Emily sitting right in between them.

She gets her chance soon enough, though. Her mom arrives, and Emily wants to show her the drawings she did in preschool that day, and Mulder offers to help Scully make dinner. He follows her into the kitchen, standing close to her as she takes vegetables out of the refrigerator and pasta out of the cabinet. “I didn’t plan to tell you like that,” he says. His voice is soft, almost self-conscious.

She turns and smiles at him. “I’m not complaining. Maybe Emily knows how to run this thing better than we do.” She steps up, takes his hand. “I love you too,” she says, the words coming out in a breath.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” she says. “Really.” His smile makes her feel warm. And she stretches up and kisses him, fairly chastely since her mom and Emily are right there, but hoping he’ll get the intention behind it. From the way he holds her, his arms tightly around her waist, she thinks he does.

Emily comes running into the kitchen then. “What are we having?” she asks.

“Spaghetti and vegetables,” Scully tells her.

“You want to help me and your mom?” Mulder asks. He hoists her up into the air, and she shrieks with joy. Scully knows how she feels.

.....

Mulder hears the door creak open, and Emily bounds in, landing on the foot of the bed. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Emily,” Scully says. “Remember that talk we had? About knocking?” They’re both fully clothed, because they know she’ll forget, but they’re hoping the message will sink in one of these days.

“Sorry,” Emily says. “I did remember. But I was just excited for today.”

“So’re we,” Mulder says. He ruffles her hair as she slides up to lie between them.

“What time are we going?” she asks.

“Our appointment’s at eleven,” Scully says. “So we have three hours.”

“That’s so long,” Emily says, pouting. “Three whole hours?”

“It’ll go faster than you think,” Mulder says, even though he secretly agrees. “Should we get up and have breakfast?”

Making breakfast distracts Emily a little, although he can tell that she’s still excited; she bounces up and down and pours extra maple syrup onto the pancakes. Scully catches his eye and smiles, and he smiles back at her. Emily’s right. It’s a momentous day.

They’re out of the house at last, in the car, driving to the courthouse. They’ve all dressed nicely; he’s wearing a suit, and Emily is wearing the blue dress they got her for the wedding. She’s still smiling, although Mulder’s a little nervous, and he thinks Scully is too. He doesn’t know why they should be—they were told that this second hearing was largely a formality—but maybe because it means so much. They each take one of Emily’s hands as they walk into the courthouse, and she looks up at them. Her face is serious now; maybe she’s caught the mood.

But everything goes as it should, as they’ve been told it would. They leave the courthouse with a copy of the adoption certificate: his name is on it, listed as Emily’s father. She’s already been calling him her dad since he and Scully got married, but it means something that now it’s official. They all feel it. He stoops to hug Emily before they get back in the car, kissing the top of her head.

They go out for lunch afterwards, and they get ice cream too; that’s part of his job as Emily’s dad, he thinks, buying her ice cream. She sits by his side in the restaurant booth, scraping the bowl with her spoon, and leans against his shoulder.

When the waitress brings the check, he says to her, “Would you mind taking a picture of the three of us?”

“Sure,” she says. “Not at all.”

They hang it on the refrigerator, the picture of him and Scully and Emily, all sitting together, all smiling. A family in print.

.....

William’s the most incredible thing Mulder’s ever seen—and he’s seen a lot of incredible things. He’s been alive for twelve hours now, and the novelty hasn’t worn off one bit in that time. He can’t take his eyes off his son, a tiny bundle in Scully’s arms.

“Hi there,” Scully says to William, who’s staring up at them both. His eyes are blue. “Do you know that we love you more than anything? Because we really, really do.”

“Your mom’s right,” Mulder says. William yawns, and he marvels. “He just…he’s amazing, Scully.”

“Isn’t he?” She looks exhausted and overjoyed.

Maggie stayed with Emily overnight, but they should be on their way to the hospital now. Mulder wonders how Emily’s going to take to her brother. A part of him can’t imagine anyone not adoring William, but he knows that Emily’s been anxious about not being the only child anymore. Especially during the last few months of Scully’s pregnancy, she clung to the two of them, wanting seemingly constant attention. “Will you love me as much as the baby?” she asked, only a few days ago, and even though they told her that of course they would, trying to reassure her with hugs and soothing words, she still looked unsure.

There’s a tap at the door to the hospital room. “May we come in?” Maggie’s voice.

“Yes, come on in!” Scully calls.

The door opens, revealing Maggie and Emily, who’s clinging tightly to a bunch of flowers. “Mommy! Daddy!” she says. “I missed you.”

“We missed you too, sweetie,” Scully says. Mulder takes William, and she holds out her arms. “Come here so I can give you a hug.”

“Gently,” Mulder adds, as Emily runs towards her mother. She stops for a minute and then slows her steps, giving Scully a careful hug.

“We brought you flowers,” she says, as if just remembering; the bouquet is a little crushed now from the hug, but Scully takes it anyway, smiling.

“They’re so beautiful,” she says. “Did you pick them out with Grandma?” Emily nods, and Scully kisses her cheek. “Well, thank you both so much.”

Emily’s looking up at William. “Is that him?” she asks.

“Yes,” Scully says. “That’s your brother. Do you know what his name is?”

“William,” Emily says. “Grandma told me. After she talked to Daddy on the phone.”

“That’s right,” Scully says. “Do you want to say hello to him?”

“Okay,” Emily says. They all crowd around; Mulder moves, carefully, to sit on the bed next to Scully and Emily, and Maggie comes by too, wanting to get a look at her grandson.

“This is William,” he says, softly. “William, this is your grandmother. And this is your big sister, Emily.”

“Oh, he’s so sweet!” Maggie exclaims. “Look at that face! I think he looks like you, Dana.”

“I think so too,” Mulder says.

Emily is staring. “He’s so little,” she says finally, in a soft, awed voice. “I didn’t know he’d be so little.”

“Well, he’s brand new,” Scully says. “Not even a whole day old. Do you want to say hi to him?”

“Hi,” Emily says. Her voice is still soft, almost a whisper and very, very gentle. “Hi, baby William. I’m Emily. You’re so, so little.” She looks up at them. “His hands are so little.”

“They are,” Mulder says. “If you touch his hand with your finger, he’ll grab it.”

Emily looks astonished. “Will he, really?”

“Try and see,” Mulder says.

Emily places her index finger gently against William’s hand, and his own fingers curl around it, gripping tightly. “Wow,” she says. “Wow.”

“Would you like to try holding him for a little bit?” Scully asks.

“Oh,” Emily says, “oh, could I?” There’s longing in her voice.

“Why don’t you sit in the chair,” Mulder says, “and I’ll bring him over to you?” Emily nods quickly, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, and Mulder hands her William, carefully, supporting her arms with his own at first. “You have to keep one hand under his head,” he tells her. “Like this, see?” Emily nods seriously, mimicking what he’s doing. Even when he takes his arms away, he hovers near the chair. Emily’s right: William is so little, and so precious.

“I’m your big sister,” Emily is saying to William. “Your big sister. And I’m going to take care of you. Because you’re so little.”

So far, so good, Mulder thinks. She doesn’t seem like she’s upset about William being here. He looks at Scully, who’s watching Emily hold her brother with an incredible smile on her face. He bends over to kiss her cheek.

They go home from the hospital the next afternoon. They settle William into his crib, and then Mulder helps Scully get settled too, putting her things away for her, arranging her pillows until he’s sure that she’s comfortable. “Mulder,” she says. “You don’t have to do all of this.”

“You just had a baby, Scully,” he points out. “Two days ago, in fact. You know, I couldn’t do what you did.”

“Yeah,” Scully says, grinning. “I don’t think that’s physically possible.”

“You know what I mean,” he says. “You’re incredible. A force of nature. And you deserve to rest now. While William’s sleeping. You will rest, won’t you?”

“Yes,” she says. “I’ll rest. Since William’s sleeping, and all.” He can tell she’s tired from her voice, from the way she settles back on the bed. He leaves her to sleep then, thinking he’ll look in on William. He wants to make sure everything’s okay with him.

As he heads toward the nursery, he can hear Emily’s voice. Hoping she’s not waking William up, he opens the door carefully. William’s awake, but he’s not crying or fussing, just staring at his sister. She has her face pressed up against the bars of the crib, and she’s reading aloud. Mulder can see the book in her hands. The Little Fur Family.

“Em?” he says. “What are you doing, sweetie?”

She turns to look at him. “I’m just reading to him. To keep him company. He likes the book.”

Mulder smiles at her. “Can I sit with the two of you?”

“Yes,” Emily says, and Mulder takes a seat in the rocking chair, his eyes on his children. Emily finishes the book, closing the covers carefully. “I can read you another book later,” she says to William. “I have a lot of good ones.” He blinks at her, and she turns to Mulder. “Daddy?”

“Yes, Emily?”

“I really love him,” she says. “I think I’m going to love him forever.”

“Me too,” Mulder says. He stoops down and hugs her. “And I’m going to love you forever too.”

They sit quietly in the nursery, the three of them, until Scully comes in to join them.  She feeds William, then, while Mulder gets dinner together for the rest of them. He’s tired too—he can feel it, somewhere in the back of his mind—but right now he doesn’t care.

.....

It’s one of those days when William just keeps fussing and fussing. Emily usually likes to play with him, but not right now, not when he just cries whatever she does. Mommy says that he might be getting new teeth; she’s trying to get him to stop crying by giving him things to chew on. But Emily’s tired of it, right now, so she goes to see if she can find Daddy.

She finds him sitting on the back steps, looking out at the yard. She sits down next to him. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi, Em,” he says. He doesn’t look at her when he says it, so she tries to figure out what he is looking at. The flowers, she thinks.

“Are those the ones you planted?” she asks. “For…for Samantha?” She isn’t sure if she should say Aunt Samantha, because Samantha was Daddy’s sister and that would make her Emily’s aunt, if she were here, but Emily never met her. She died a long time ago, she knows. That’s why Daddy planted the flowers when they moved into the house, earlier this year, and Mommy helped. They planted them at the house, because Samantha was dead but Daddy didn’t have a cemetary to visit for her, like you do with most dead people. Emily couldn’t see them then—they were just seeds—but now she can; they’re bright yellow ones.

Daddy nods. “Yes.”

“They’re pretty,” she says. “Do they make you sad, though? To look at?” His face looks a little sad.

“The flowers? They don’t make me sad, exactly,” Daddy says. “They just make me think about Samantha. And that makes me sad, sometimes. Because I miss her.”

Emily nods. “I’m still sad when I think about my other mommy and daddy, sometimes,” she says. “Even though that was a long time ago too.”

Daddy puts an arm around her. “I think we all feel sad,” he says, “when we think about people we miss.”

“Was it a really long time ago?” Emily asks. “When she died, I mean.” She thinks it must be, because she’s seen a picture of Daddy with Samantha, and he was only a kid in it. An older kid, but still.

“Yes, a long time ago,” Daddy says.

“How old were you?” Emily asks.

“Well, I was twelve the last time I saw her,” Daddy says. “And she was eight then.”

Eight’s not a lot bigger than Emily. She doesn’t really like to think about it. “Did you play together?” she asks. “Like me and William?”

“We did,” Daddy says. “Sometimes we’d play outside, on nice days like this. That’s why I decided to come out to look at the flowers. Just to remember her. Just to think.”

Sometimes people like you to be quiet when they think, Emily knows. “Do you want me to go back inside?” she asks. “So you can think?”

He smiles at her. “No, that’s okay, Em. You’re not keeping me from thinking.”

They sit and look at the flowers together then. “I think they’re really pretty,” Emily says. “I bet she would like them so much.” Daddy doesn’t say anything. “Would we all play together?” she asks. “If she were here?”

He smiles at her, but his eyes look sad. “I bet we would,” he says, and he hugs her tight.

She hugs him back. “It’s okay to be sad,” she says, because Mommy and Daddy tell her that sometimes.

“Yeah, Em,” he says. “You’re right.”

They sit there for a while longer, and when they go back inside she gives William a hug too. Because he is her brother, even if he fusses a lot.

.....

It's been a busy several weeks. They’ve both been swamped at work, and then the kids have been passing a series of bugs back and forth between them. Scully knows it’s entirely out of their control, but after the third week of sniffling and coughing she wondered if they were doing something like licking the walls in the school bathrooms. Childhood illnesses are something she’s equipped to deal with, and she’s very grateful that her children are facing nothing worse, but that doesn’t make it any more fun.

She’s barely had any time to spend with Mulder, either, outside of the daily round. They’ve been tag teaming work and childcare and housework (the latter pretty minimal at this point), but something’s had to give, and unfortunately that something’s proved to be them as a couple. They’re too exhaused, most nights, to do anything more than smile at each other over the dinner table and then fall asleep as soon as their heads touch the pillow. She remembers days in the office, in the car together, in motel rooms, when she was sure she was going to die if she didn’t get to touch him. Now she’s got the chance, and she doesn’t have the energy to take advantage of it.

She tucks in Emily one night; she thinks Emily’s getting over whatever she has, although she doesn’t want to count on anything by now. “Are you feeling any better, sweetie?” she asks.

“I think so,” Emily says. She still sounds congested, but not as much as she did yesterday.

“Well, I’m sure sleep will help you,” Scully says. “Good night, Emily.”

“Good night, Mom,” Emily says. Scully turns out the light and leaves the room.

Mulder’s sitting on their bed, working on something on his computer. “Hey,” he says, when she comes in. “Just trying to get this lesson plan done. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says. She opens her drawer to look for pajamas. “I’m behind on that too.” She sighs.

Mulder looks up. “You doing okay?” he asks. “I mean, I guess none of us are doing great right now, but under the circumstances?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she says. She flops down next to him, just for a minute, and promises herself she won’t fall asleep in her clothes. At least tomorrow’s Saturday, thank goodness. “I just hate feeling like I’m dropping the ball.”

“You’re not dropping the ball,” Mulder says. “Life happens to everyone.”

She knows he means it. She knows she should accept the comfort. She thinks it’s probably easier to extend yourself that kind of grace when you’re not trying to be a woman in a workplace that’s still dominated by men. When your male students don’t talk to you with condescenscion. When you’re not being told what you have to do to be a good agent and what you have to do to be a good mother and finding impossible gaps in between them. She knows if she told Mulder this he would listen. But she doesn’t feel like it.

“I guess,” she says.

“Also,” he says, “I know we haven’t had much time to think about it, but do you have any ideas about what you want to do next Sunday?”

Sleep for fifteen hours, she thinks. “Is something going on next Sunday?”

“Yeah,” he says, “our anniversary.”

Shit, she’s an idiot. Add good wife to the list of impossible roles she’s trying to play right now. “I lost track of the dates. Sorry.”

“Hey,” he says. “It’s okay.” He kisses her cheek.

“It’s not okay,” she says. “I just…I wish we had more time for us.”

“We’ll get through this,” he says. “The kids are getting over their…whatever it is they have this time. And then we’ll catch up on work and…we’ll get through this.”

She knows he’s right, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. “I’ll think about next Sunday,” she says. “Try to come up with something.”

“Surprise me,” he says. “You’re good at that.”

“You’re good at it too,” she says. He’s never stopped surprising her, in all these years together. That’s one thing she can be glad about.

They don’t talk about it more right then, because they’re still exhausted. He finishes up the lesson plan, and she puts on her pajamas, and they both fall into bed.

Scully does try to think about their anniversary though, in between all the other things that make up her day. What she’d really like would be just for the two of them to have some time alone together, some time to relax and enjoy each other—that seems special enough right now. Maybe she can enlist her mom, she thinks, get her to take Emily and William for the day. She calls her, in between classes, and her mom says she’s happy to do it, that she’d expected to be asked, even. So that’s one part of the problem solved. Now she just has to figure out what to do with the rest of the time, if she should plan something or just let it unroll spontaneously. She doesn’t want to half-ass things, but then sometimes the spontaneous days, with the two of them, are the best ones.

She doesn’t have that much time to dwell on it over the course of the week, though. Emily and William are both healthy again, back in school, but that means extra time to devote to catching up on the work she let slide when they were sick. In her spare time, she wonders if Mulder is planning anything. It would be nice to let someone else do the work for once. Still, she wants him to know how much she appreciates him too.

And before she knows it, it’s Saturday night, and she still hasn’t come up with much of anything. At least she has the babysitting locked down. “My mom’s going to watch Emily and William tomorrow,” she tells Mulder. “So we can have some time alone.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mulder says, and, in response to her inquiring look, he adds, “I called to ask her, and she said you’d already arranged it.”

“Oh,” she says. “Great minds think alike, I guess.”

“Absolutely,” Mulder says. “Do you have a surprise planned for tomorrow, Scully?”

“Sure,” she says. She doesn’t add that if there’s a surprise, it will be a surprise to her, too. He smiles at her. She’s afraid he’s planned something elaborate, something to which anything she can plan in the next few hours won’t possibly measure up.

When he’s gone downstairs to look for a book, she digs through her underwear drawer—maybe there’s something she can wear in there, something special that he hasn’t seen in a while. They don’t often have time to make an occasion out of sex these days; of course, it’s still enjoyable when it’s not an occasion, but since it’s their anniversary, well, she wants it to be at least a little special. A lot of what she finds is depressingly practical, but near the bottom there’s a black set…She’s not even sure when she got it. But it’s pretty. Lace trim, red ribbons at the hips and the cleavage. She picks it up, looks at it. She likes what she sees. She wants Mulder to like her in it, but she thinks it might make her feel good too.

She stuffs it back into the drawer when she hears Mulder coming down the hall, but she’s smiling now. At least she has something planned. Even if it’s not elaborate, it’s special.

Her mom picks the kids up late in the morning, and then it’s just the two of them.

The energy feels different, as soon as the door closes. A day for her and Mulder, with no responsibilities. She feels like a kid playing hooky. She feels delicious. She feels like she wants Mulder to find out what she’s wearing under her t-shirt and jeans.

She thinks he feels the same, from the way he’s looking at her, and that’s before he presses her back against the wall and kisses her. She kisses him back, abandoning herself to it. Today she wants to be exhausted again, but only in the best way.

“So I have to admit,” Mulder says, drawing back from the kiss, “that I didn’t come up with much of a surprise for today. Because I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“I want that too,” she says. “Mine’s only a little surprise. But I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure,” he says. “Right now, I want to take you upstairs and make love to you. How does that sound?”

“I like what you’ve got in mind,” she says.

“And we can do that until we get tired of it,” he says, “or until our limbs don’t work any more. Whichever comes first.”

“I don’t think,” she says, “that I’m going to get tired of it.”

He half-carries her up the stairs.

This is what she needed, Scully thinks, as they kiss and kiss and kiss. As they pull at each other’s clothes; she tugs his shirt off and runs her hands down his chest, and he grabs her shirt too, pulling it over her head. And then he stops and looks.

“Scully,” he says. Just that word, just her name, but that and his look are enough. Even before he says, “God, you’re so beautiful.” And he says that again, when he has her jeans off and he’s looking at her. And “You’re so fucking sexy.”

They make love until she feels boneless, utterly sated, more content than she’s been in weeks, and so full of love for him. Then they drag themselves down to the kitchen, where they make a meal out of various leftovers. It’s not exactly a fancy anniversary dinner, but Scully can’t think of anything she’d rather do than be here with him. From the way he’s smiling at her, she can tell that he feels the same.

“So I did get you a little something,” he says, when they’ve finished eating. He opens the freezer, takes it out, and presents it to her. Rocky road ice cream, the good brand, the kind she doesn’t keep in the house because she knows one of two things will happen: the kids will eat it before she gets a chance to, or she’ll have to scarf it down to keep that from happening. But the kind she likes the best.

“Thank you,” she says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says. “And hey…I wanted you to know that I’m proud of you. You do an amazing job with everything, even in crazy weeks like this one.” He smiles at her. “You deserve to feel good about that.”

She didn’t tell him how she was feeling in so many words, but he knew. She doesn’t answer him in so many words either, but she kisses him long and slow.

She eats the ice cream right out of the carton; she offers Mulder some, out of obligation, but he doesn’t take any, except for a little that he licks off her lips. “What time is your mom bringing the kids back?” he asks.

She looks at the clock. “Around seven, I think. She said she’d give them supper. We still have a few hours. Back to bed?”

“You read my mind,” he says.

They make love again, and then they doze next to each other, which is almost as pleasurable, in its own way. She’s so happy they had this day for just them. But she’s truly happy, too, when the doorbell rings and they go down to hug their children hello.

.....

Emily’s really good at baseball. She plays with high schoolers, a lot of the time, even though she’s only in middle school, and she’s the shortest one and the only girl, mostly. She’s William’s favorite baseball player. He likes some other ones too, but Emily’s special because she’s his sister and he actually knows her. The other baseball players he likes he only gets to see from far away.

He also gets to play with her. Even though she’s so good, she’ll always play catch with him. She can throw the ball really fast, he’s seen her, but when they play together she throws it slowly so he can catch it. She helps him practice hitting too, and she’ll run around and catch the balls he hits, even though a lot of them don’t go where he means them to go, and sometimes she has to run a really long way.

“It’s okay,” she’ll tell him. “That’s why you practice. I had to practice a lot, to get to where I am.” Sometimes when Emily says things like that, their dad says that she’s twelve going on twenty-five. William’s not sure what that means, but he thinks it’s a good thing, because he always smiles when he says it.

William wishes he could be as good as Emily, even though she tells him she wasn’t that good when she was six. Everybody in their family likes baseball. They all like to watch it, but William’s the only one who can’t really play it. When Emily practices with just their mom and dad, they can go fast, but when he plays with them, they have to go slow. Emily’s a lot older than him, and mostly he likes that because she can teach him things and stick up for him and they don’t really fight a lot. But sometimes he wishes he could be bigger, so that he could be good at things like she is.

They’re playing catch together in the yard one day when their dad comes outside too. “How’s it going?” he asks them.

“Good, Dad,” Emily says. “I’m trying to show William how to throw the ball overhand. Want to show Dad, William?”

So he tries, but the ball doesn’t go where he wants it to go. It almost goes into Emily’s face, but she ducks. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s hard.”

“That’s okay, Will,” Emily says. “You just have to keep trying.”

“You’ll get it soon, buddy,” their dad says. But William doesn’t know if he will or not. He knows Emily says she had to practice a lot to be good, but he doesn’t remember her ever not being good.

“I guess,” he says softly. They play for a little longer, and then Emily says that she has homework to do, and she goes inside. William sits down on the steps.

His dad sits down next to him. “Everything okay, Will?” he asks.

“I wish I could be good at baseball,” William says. “Everyone else is.”

“You’re still learning,” his dad says. “What matters is that you have fun with it. Do you have fun playing?”

William thinks about it. Sometimes he does, but sometimes he doesn’t, because it’s hard. “I guess I do,” he says. “Usually.”

His dad looks at him for a minute, and then he squeezes his shoulders. “You don’t have to play if it’s not fun,” he says. “You can take a break.” But that just makes William feel worse, like his dad doesn’t think he should keep playing. Because maybe he’ll never be good like Emily. He just shrugs then, and he stays sitting there while his dad goes inside. He bounces the ball up and down, and then it rolls away.

He's watching it when his mom comes outside. “Hey, Will,” she says. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” William says.

“Your dad told me you were feeling a little sad,” she says. “About baseball.” She sits down on the step behind him, and he leans against her legs.

“Emily is so good at it,” he says. “And you and dad are good too. But I’m not.”

She smoothes his hair. “It’s hard sometimes, when you’re younger,” she says. “I remember when I was your age. I wanted to be able to do everything Bill and Missy could do.” That’s her older brother and sister, William knows—Uncle Bill in California, who they sometimes see at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and Aunt Melissa, who died before William was born. “You know how we moved around a lot, right?” William nods. “Missy was so good at making new friends, wherever we went. I wanted to be able to do that too.”

“So what did you do?” William asks.

“Well, I sulked some of the time,” his mom says, and she laughs. “And then I tried to copy whatever she did, but that didn’t work so well either. And finally…I tried doing things I was interested in and finding people who liked to do them too.”

“And that worked?” William asks.

“It did,” his mom says. “Much better than trying to be exactly like Missy.”

William can tell she’s trying to tell him something. “I don’t want to be exactly like Emily,” he says. “It’s just that she’s really good, and I think…I think that’s nice.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” his mom says. “It’s good to have things you want to do, Will. But you shouldn’t get down on yourself if they don’t happen exactly like you expect them to.” She kisses the top of his head. “And there can be different ways of playing baseball. Just like there can be different ways of making friends.”

William doesn’t understand that. There’s a way you’re supposed to play baseball; it’s in the rules. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, think about it,” she says. “First of all, you can play lots of different positions, right?”

“Right,” William says.

“So you might be better at one than at another,” his mom says. “And then there are different reasons you can like to play. Like Emily likes to play with her team. And I just like to play with you and Emily and your dad, so I can spend time with all of you.”

That makes sense, William guesses. “Are you saying I should just play at home?” he asks. “Instead of on a team?”

“Not exactly,” his mom says. “If you want to be on a team, I think you should keep practicing for that. And I’d be happy to help you. But if you’d rather just play with us, that’s okay too. It doesn’t mean you can’t be good at baseball. Or that you can’t love it.” He looks up at her; she’s smiling. “One of the reasons I love baseball is because your dad showed me how to play it. And that’s a really good memory for me. It might not be the reason anyone else loves baseball, but that’s mine. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

William thinks about it. He thinks about going to a baseball game for the first time, with his mom and dad and Emily, and eating lots of popcorn, and all of them wearing matching baseball caps, and cheering so loud. He thinks about Emily playing catch with him, every day sometimes, in the summer. “Yeah,” he says. “I understand.” And he hugs his mom. She hugs him back.

.....

The first time Scully went away for a conference, after they had the kids, she called at least twice each day to check in, to tell them she missed them. (Mulder would make fun at her, if he hadn’t done exactly the same thing.) Now, when Emily’s sixteen and Will’s ten, she’s a little bit more calm about it all. She’s away until Saturday; today’s Thursday, and she told them she’d call this evening, and Mulder doesn’t expect to be hearing from her ahead of schedule.

When he gets home from work, he decides to ask the kids if they have any ideas about what they want for dinner. “Pizza,” Will says. He’s doing his homework at the kitchen table.

That sounds pretty appealing. “Good idea,” Mulder says. “Do you know where Emily is? I’ll check with her too.”

“She went up to her room, I think,” Will says, and, as Mulder turns to go, he adds, “She was mad about something.”

“Mad about something?” Mulder asks. “What do you mean?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know. I asked her what was up and she told me to leave her alone. And I didn’t even do anything.” He looks faintly injured.

“It’s probably not anything you did,” Mulder says. “Thanks for letting me know, though. I’ll check on her.”

He heads upstairs to Emily’s room. The door is pulled closed, and he knocks. “Emily? It’s me. Can I come in?”

“Okay,” she says, and he opens the door. When he sees her face, he can tell that Will was at least partially right: she’s definitely upset about something. He doesn’t think she’s mad, though. She looks more sad.

“Are you okay, Em?” he asks her. She shrugs. “Is something bothering you?” She nods, after a minute. “Want to talk about it?” She’s getting older, and he might not be able to help solve her problems as easily as he once did, but he’ll always try.

“I don’t know,” Emily says. “I’d kind of…I’d rather talk to Mom about it. It’s that kind of thing.”

He’s not one hundred percent sure what that means. “Okay,” he says. “You can talk to her when she calls tonight. Are you all right physically, though?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emily says. “It’s not about menstruation, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He has to smile when she puts it like that, because it was one of the things he was thinking, and because she sounds so much like Scully. “Good to know,” he says. “Well, then…”

“It’s about a boy,” she blurts out, as he’s hovering between staying and going.

“Ah,” he says. He hopes the boy in question hasn’t broken her heart. It seems so early in life for that to be happening, although a part of him knows that he thinks that because she’s his daughter and he wants to keep her safe and happy.

“Well, sort of,” she says. She doesn’t say anything more, but the way she looks at him makes him think that she wants to talk now, not wait until the evening. Scully’s not here, though, so maybe he’ll have to do.

“You sure you don’t want to talk to me?” he asks. “I know some things about boys. As they were when I was one, anyway. Maybe they’ve changed since then.”

Emily almost smiles at that. “I don’t think people really change in how they act,” she says. “Okay, well, it’s…there’s this boy at school. And we’re in a lot of classes together. And we talk sometimes. And…I kind of like him.” The words are soft, like an admission, and Mulder nods, trying to look as understanding as he can. “So we have the spring dance coming up next month, and I thought I would ask him if he wanted to go together. I mean, why not, right?”

“Good for you, Em,” Mulder says. She’s braver in some things, at sixteen, than he’s ever been.

“So I asked him today,” Emily says, “and he said no.”

“Just like that?” Mulder asks. “Just ‘no’? What’s the matter with this guy?”

“It wasn’t just no,” Emily says. “He was nice about it. He just said he was sorry, but he didn’t feel like that about me. I’m not mad at him or anything.”

“I get why you’re upset, though,” Mulder says. “Still, you should be proud of yourself for asking him. That kind of thing’ll stand you in good—”

“That’s not exactly what I’m upset about,” Emily says. “I mean, I am disappointed. I’m just…I was talking to one of my friends after and I started wondering about why. She was saying…well, that maybe it was because of what I’m like in class.”

“What you’re like in class?” Mulder asks.

“Yeah,” Emily says. “Because I always answer a lot of questions. And I talk a lot, when we have discussions. And she said it’s not that boys don’t like it when girls are smart. But they don’t like it when the girls are smarter than them. And that’s just…I mean, I’m not going to stop talking in class. That would be an idiotic thing to do. But I just wonder if that means I won’t ever get a boyfriend.” She’s biting her lip now. She looks young, and confused, and sad.

So maybe Emily’s not mad, but Mulder is. “What kind of friend is this?” he asks. “To tell you something like that.”

Emily shrugs. “She’s not my best friend or anything. But she didn’t say it to be mean. She was being honest.”

“Well, maybe she thinks she was,” Mulder says. “But Em, that’s not something you should be worried about at all. You will meet plenty of people who will love how smart you are. Guys included.”

“How do you know?” Emily asks.

“You’d say your mom was pretty smart, wouldn’t you?” he asks, and Emily nods. “And that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with her. One of many reasons,” he adds. “And if you love someone who’s smart, like that, you can have much better conversations, and…I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to be with someone smart.”

“Yeah, but you guys are older,” Emily says.

“That’s true,” Mulder concedes. “And I will admit that a lot of people in high school don’t really know what they want or where they’re going. But some do. I know you’re one of them.”

“Sometimes, I guess,” she says.

“Sure,” Mulder says. “It’s not always simple. But you were brave enough to ask that guy. And you know you’re not going to stop talking in class, no matter what anyone says. Those things are important, Emily.” She’s watching him, listening. “I bet you’ll meet other people who know those things too. And if you don’t…you won’t be in high school forever, either. There’s a lot more out there.”

“Thank God,” she says, and he chuckles. She smiles too.

“Your mom and I are really proud of the person you are,” he tells her. “And you should be too. Don’t waste your time with anyone who acts like that’s not good enough. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, and she hugs him spontaneously, which she doesn’t do as often as she used to. “Thanks, Dad.”

“What I’m here for,” he says. “Will and I were thinking about getting pizza for tonight. How does that sound to you?”

“Good,” Emily says. “Can we get extra cheese?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “And you can talk to your mom by yourself tonight, if you want to. Will and I will go, after we’re done saying hi.”

“Thanks,” Emily says, and then, after a minute, “I already feel a lot better, though.”

“I’m glad,” he says.

.....

Emily and Will have been sitting in the diner all morning, and even though it’s not crowded or anything, the waiter has been giving them looks. They’ve tried to keep ordering, but there’s a limit to how much you can eat (at least Emily thinks so—she’s not sure about Will, but she feels like it would be irresponsible to let him have a third plate of bacon). And she’s already too amped up for another cup of coffee.

“How much longer do you think it’s going to be?” Will asks.

“I don’t know,” Emily says. “These things take a while.”

He’s quiet, fiddling with his utensils. “I hope Mom’s okay.”

“Mom will be fine,” Emily says quickly. “She said everything looked really good at her last appointment, remember? She wouldn’t lie to us. And she’s got good doctors. And she’s got Dad.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “But still…it’s hard, right? They say it’s hard and it hurts and…” He looks worried.

“I know,” Emily says. “I’m sure she’s…it’s not like a fun day or anything. But she’s done it before, right? With you.” Not with Emily, herself; she knows the whole story now, and sometimes she’s mad about it, but it’s never made a real difference in how she feels about her relationship with her mom, with her dad, with Will, with this baby who’s coming into the world today. “And she was ready to do it again, so that must mean something.”

“I guess,” Will says. “Do you remember it? When I was born.”

“I wasn’t there,” Emily says. “I was at home with Grandma. I don’t think I was worried about Mom or anything. Too young, probably. I was just worried that Mom and Dad were going to love you better than me.”

“They do,” Will says, and she makes a face at him.

“But I came to see you all the next day,” she says, “and I liked you a lot better than I thought I would. And Mom was fine. And she’ll be fine today, too.”

Will nods. “Can we get pancakes?” he asks, after a minute.

She doesn’t feel like arguing with him right now, and besides, pancakes sound good. “Sure.”

“Aren’t we supposed to smoke cigars?” he asks, when they’re eating. “While we’re waiting for the baby. Don’t people smoke cigars?”

“Well, we shouldn’t smoke cigars at all, because it’s disgusting,” Emily says, “but I think that’s for after the baby anyway. And it’s for the dad. He’s supposed to give cigars to people, or something.” She laughs. “I can’t really picture Dad doing that.”

“Nah,” Will says. He pours a lot of maple syrup onto his pancakes. She does the same.

It’s mid-afternoon and she’s lost track of how many meals they’ve had when her phone rings. She sees it’s their dad and grabs it. “Hi! Is the baby here?”

“She’s here,” their dad confirms, and she knows he’s smiling, even though she can’t see it. “She and your mom are doing great.”

“Who does she look like?” Emily asks.

“She’s got your mom’s eyes,” he says. “But brown hair. You can decide for yourself what you think.”

“So we can come over?” Emily says.

“Yeah,” he says. “We can’t wait to see you both.”

“We can’t wait either,” Emily says, and they say goodbye.

She fills Will in while she’s paying for a truly outrageous amount of food, and then they walk over towards the hospital. There’s a florists’s on the way, and they stop there; Will says they should get blue flowers, because their mom likes blue, so that’s what they do.

They make their way in by the visitors’ entrance. Their dad texted her the room number, with directions, and they find it pretty quickly. Will’s carrying the flowers now, so Emily taps at the door. “Come in,” she hears her mom’s voice say, and they do.

It was strange, finding out she was getting a little sister now, when they’d only be in the house together for ten months or so before Emily went off to college. She was excited about it, but sometimes she wondered if she’d be able to be close to the baby the way she was close to Will.

But when her mom says, “Here she is,” and they go over to look at the baby, she decides that was silly. It might not be exactly the same, but she knows she loves her little sister. She knows she’s excited to have her in her life.

“Hi there,” she says. “Hi, sweetie.” She touches one of the baby’s hands.

“Wow,” Will says. “She’s so little.”

Their dad laughs. “That’s what Emily said when she first saw you,” he says.

“Mm-hmm,” their mom says. “Doesn’t seem that long ago, does it?”

“Are you okay, Mom?” Will asks.

She smiles at him. “I’m great, sweetheart. Thank you for asking.” She touches the baby’s head, and she looks so happy.

“Did you figure out the name?” Will asks. They’ve been going back and forth about different ideas.

“Yes,” their mom says. “Susanna.”

“Hi, Susanna,” Will says. Susanna yawns. They stand together and watch her.

[joggerfive]

Fic: Christmas Mischief

This is my Discord Secret Santa gift for @notebooksnshoelaces <3 Hope you like it, my lovely! Happy holidays!!

Simon and Five become christmassy Township Troublemakers™ and bring some festive cheer to Abel with a few pranks and surprises! Set in S1/S2.

(Link to fic on AO3 if that’s where you prefer to do your reading)

---

“Hello there, my dearest Five.”

Runner Five looked up from their notebook towards the doorway of the rec room. Simon swaggered in then slammed himself down on the couch next to Five with a grin.

“Where did you even get a Santa hat?” Five wondered aloud, reaching over to Simon’s head to touch the white pom-pom that was dangling from the top.

Simon playfully swatted their hand away before it could reach the hat. “I shall answer your question with another question. Are you up for some festive mischief?”

With a glint in their eye, Five immediately shut their notebook as their reply.

-----

“Jesus, it’s cold out here,” Simon complained, “even on the move, I’m bloody freezing.”

Five shook their head as they picked up a dirty shirt from the side of the road. It would be good as new after a wash. They shoved it in their bag and quickly caught up with Simon once more.

“You’re just grumpy because Sam made you take off your Santa hat.” Five replied.

At the mention of his name, the radio operator’s voice started coming through the runners’ headsets.

“It made your headset sit all weird! I’m not having you lose vital equipment in the name of Christmas spirit.” Sam rebutted indignantly.

Simon gave a fake cough, then mumbled the word “grinch”. Five smirked.

“Hey! I am not a grinch! I love Christmas!” Sam replied, sounding offended. “In fact, when I was a kid-”

Five startled as Simon gave their arm a couple of taps to grab their attention. Sam continued his story into their ears as Three pointed towards a street. Five nodded silently in response. Time for part one of the plan.

“Sam,” Simon started with a smirk, “What was that about geese? You’re breaking up.”

“What? No, I said trees.” Sam replied, coming through perfectly clearly.

“Bees? What have bees got to do with Christmas?” Three acted as confused as he could, furrowing his eyebrows together even though Sam couldn’t see him.

“Trees! I was saying how my family would choose a Christmas tree together!”

“Choose a what? And it was free?”

“A tree! And I didn’t say it was free!”

Simon tried to keep the grin off his face as he looked over at Five, “Sorry Sammy boy, you’re breaking up. I guess we’ll just have to hear your story about the free geese and bees later on, hey?”

“There are no geese or bees!” Sam exclaimed, before properly taking in what Simon said, “Wait, you can’t hear me? You should be able to, we haven’t had any problems in this area before-”

“-am. I –an’t hea- you.” Simon spoke in fragments, pretending to get cut off. Five gave a quiet scoff at the ridiculous attempt.

“What? Three? Five? Can you still hear me?”

Five looked over at Simon with an incredulous look on their face. They couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Ca- -ear –ou.” Simon continued.

“Guys? Oh God, why can’t you hear me? Has a wire come loose? I knew I shouldn’t have cleaned in here!” A slight amount of panic started to become present in Sam’s voice, causing a small pang of guilt in Five’s chest.

Runner Three let out a last few incoherent syllables before turning off his headset and motioning for Five to do the same. When he saw Five’s expression, he sighed and turned off theirs for them.

“Oh, stop your worrying, Five. He’ll be fine.” Simon shrugged, “Come on, it’s this way.” He turned down the street on the left, instead of the route straight ahead that Sam had originally planned for them.

“We could’ve told him, you know.” Five mumbled, but followed Simon regardless.

“He would’ve ratted us out and you know it.” He rolled his eyes when Five looked at him with an expression like they’d just hurt a harmless little puppy. Which was kind of how they felt. “Come on, this is for the Christmas spirit! Just a quick stop at this shop and then we can tell Sam we’re okay. Only a few stragglers in our way and we’ve dealt with much worse, right?”

Five gave a reluctant nod, “Fine.”

Simon gave a loud whoop and a fist pump, which put a smile back on Five’s face, as they ran towards their destination.

-----

“Why do these places even exist?” Five asked once they were inside the shop, poking a bobblehead of Santa to make it nod. “Surely they didn’t get any business for ten months out of the year.”

Simon called out his answer from the other side of the store, “Yeah, but I bet the two months they did get business were booming.” On the last word, a couple of bells made a loud noise as a toy fell to the ground, Simon yelling out a quick ‘sorry!’ as he picked the elf back up and put it on its rightful place on the shelf.

The two runners were currently grabbing supplies from a Christmas shop aptly titled ‘Christmas Galore’, which although it appeared to be barren in a few areas (the clothes and candle sections mostly) it still had most of its contents covered in dust. Seemed like kitsch holiday items were not the most necessary thing to scavenge at the end of the world.

“Hey, look!” 

Five whipped their head up from the Nativity display they were looking at just in time to catch the flying scrap of red fabric that was thrown their way. 

“Now we can match!” Simon said happily. Five looked in their hands and saw a Santa hat. Slightly smaller than Simon’s, but it would do. They went to try it on.

“Can’t put it on now, you dolt.” Simon remarked as he shoved something into his bag, “Don’t think we would’ve found festive clothing in the pharmacy Sam thought we were going to.”

Five shrugged, “Maybe someone at the pharmacy was really into Christmas.”

“Alright smartie pants, if you wanna wear it then fine, but you’re doing the explaining.”

They gave Simon a glare before relenting and shoving the hat into their pack instead. The pair continued to grab whatever festive items they could as Simon whistled some Christmas songs to himself.

-----

Runner Five left their bunk on Christmas day with a spring in their step and a poorly concealed smirk on their face. Late last night, the secret santas had been putting festive touches all around Abel whilst trying not to wake anyone up. Five thought back to the moment they’d both tried to sneak into the kitchen through the window and Simon’s foot had gotten caught on the wood, causing him to land on his back with a loud thump, and bit their lip to contain their laughter.

Speak of the devil, as soon as Five entered the kitchen, their companion was already sitting at a table (Santa hat and all) with a mug in his hands.

“Good morning and a very merry Christmas, dear Five!” He greeted with a huge grin.

Five simply nodded as they sat down next to him. They were less of a morning person, but they’d make an exception for one day out of the year.

Simon took this as a reply and continued, “Where’s your hat then? Thought we were gonna be matching.”

Five looked confused for a moment, “My hat?”

“Yeah,” He replied, “I got you a hat. Did you lose it?”

Their face stayed the same for a few seconds, but they cracked when they saw Simon’s crestfallen expression. Reaching into their back pocket, they retrieved their Santa hat and put it on with a cheeky smile.

Simon gave a chuckle, “Had me there for a second. Thought my partner in crime had given up on me.”

They were about to respond when Simon looked over at another table, brimming with excitement. Five followed their gaze, only to be chastised.

“Don’t make it too obvious!” Simon hissed, “Act natural.”

The two mischief makers gave as many casual glances as they could to the other side of the room as Sam walked in, still looking half asleep.

Sam’s eyes widened as he saw the huge box on the table and slowly approached it. Three and Five watched as Sam read the label that was on top, which addressed the present to him. The box was big enough that it covered up Sam’s entire body from view as he sat behind it, making the troublemakers slightly upset that they couldn’t see their victim’s face. However, they knew it wouldn’t be a problem for long.

They watched as Sam (or just Sam’s arms, from their perspective) quickly opened the first box, then halted before pulling out a slightly smaller - but still quite large – box. Next, when that box was opened, another one was inside.

Over the next few minutes, Five had resorted to covering their mouth with their hand to ensure no giggles escaped and Three was pretending to take frequent sips from his now empty mug to hide his grin. There was a small group gathering around Sam as he continued to open the boxes and more boxes would reveal themselves. He was now on his seventh box, and his expression had changed from glee, to confusion, to annoyance.

The final box was about the size of the palm of Sam’s hand and the fervour with which he opened it showed just how done he was with the whole farce. After all the fuss, he held up a tiny SD card between his thumb and forefinger, looking over it with distrust as if he expected it to also have something even smaller inside. There was a note attached, which had been folded as many times as it could to be as compact as possible. The note read:

“Thought this would be a useful gift. Merry Christmas! From, Santa.”

Three and Five watched with delight as Sam read and reread the note multiple times, seemingly only getting more confused. Eventually, the crease between his eyebrows left and he let out a chuckle as he looked to his right and saw the ridiculous amount of empty boxes and wrapping paper on the floor, then pocketed the SD card. He looked around the room with narrowed eyes, seemingly looking for a culprit, making Three and Five tear their gazes away from him.

“How about we go see our next lucky contestant, eh, Five?” Simon said quickly as he saw Sam rise from his seat, probably to go interrogate people about his gift.

With that, the two scurried out of the kitchen, finally letting out all their laughter once they were alone.

-—-

On their way to their next destination, they caught sight of Janine shouting up orders to one of the guards, who was up on a ladder desperately trying to grab something that was seemingly tied above the gates that allowed people in and out of Abel.

Simon instantly changed direction to head towards Janine, his smirk flawlessly changing to a concerned expression as he approached. Five tried their best to copy him.

“Jenny, what’s up?” Three asked as they got close, “Something wrong with the gates?”

Janine turned around, her red cheeks almost rivalling the red plaid shirt she was wearing. She looked aggravated and tired at the same time.

“It seems someone thought it would be funny to tie some… mistletoe above the gates.” She said snippily, staring upwards at the object in question with a grimace.

Simon let out a chuckle, “And that’s why you’re making poor Jacob here stand at the top of a ladder in the freezing cold on Christmas morning? Come on, it’s obviously just a bit of fun.”

Janine folded her arms as she scowled, “‘A bit of fun’, is it? It may be Christmas but we still have runners scheduled to go out today, and this…” she pointed up at the mistletoe, “thing will cause nothing but chaos.”

Five bit their lip to try and hide their smile as Simon replied, “Chaos? It’s just a bit of fake plant that lets people give kisses scot-free. That’s it.”

“When someone comes back through the gates, their first port of call is to go straight to the hospital for bite checks, not to…” Her nose scrunched up, “kiss someone. What if the person coming in is bitten? And the mistletoe malarkey gives them a few extra minutes to hide their bite? What if the person that’s bitten kisses another person?”

Simon hummed in thought, “I don’t think that someone that’s bitten kissing someone else that isn’t bitten would cause the other person to become a zom too. I don’t know though. Haven’t exactly been doing any kissing research.” His eyes lit up as he saw an opportunity, “Maybe we could do some research, ey, Jenny? Strictly for scientific purposes, of course. For the greater good of the township.”

Janine’s eyes widened, her cheeks once pink from the cold and exasperation now blushing for a completely different reason. “Would you like to take over from Mr. Quinn?” She asked Simon, gesturing to the man that was still trying to grab the mistletoe but couldn’t reach due to the fact that the ladder was too small. (Luckily, Five had the forethought to hide the taller ladder that Simon had used to hang the mistletoe up, and it was currently in one of the barns.)

Simon paused for a few seconds as he feigned thinking, “No, I don’t think I’d like that.”

“Then I’d suggest you leave swiftly. Before I make you do so.” Janine concluded.

“Righty-o!” Three replied, giving her a wink before turning away, “Good luck up there, mate!” He shouted up to the guard, who didn’t give a reply. (At least one loud enough that Simon could hear.) Three and Five began to walk away.

“Si?”

They both turned around as they heard Janine speak once more.

“Yeah?” He replied non-chalantly.

“How do you know the plant is fake?” She asked.

Simon paused, “What’s that, Jenny?”

“You said ‘a bit of fake plant’ when referring to the mistletoe.” She said calmly, “How do you know it’s fake? I can’t tell from down here. How can you?”

He quickly scoffed, “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Where’s someone going to find real mistletoe anywhere these days?”

Janine seemed to ponder his answer for a while, staring him down for multiple moments. Five was glad that steel gaze wasn’t on them, they weren’t sure they could handle the pressure as well as their partner.

“I suppose that’s true.” Janine conceded, though she still seemed suspicious. “Very well.”

Three took the answer happily, grabbing Five’s arm as he began to walk away from the scene of the crime once more. “See ya later, love!” He shouted as him and Five scurried away as quickly as possible.

--—

Throughout the day, people started reporting more instances of Christmas mischief.

In the hospital, there was tinsel of all different colours lining each cot. Maxine removed it from beds that were currently being used, just in case a patient tried to stand up and got their leg caught, but happily left the empty beds decorated, enjoying the little bit of brightness it brought to the room.

Jody had been gifted a single knitting needle, with a vague clue to tell her where the next one was hidden which caused her to go on a wild goose chase around the township.

Multiple people saw animals in the farmyard wearing festive hats and headbands, though most of them had wrestled them off by afternoon.

Sara had been gifted a bottle of whiskey, but a padlock on the top prevented her from opening it. There was a riddle attached saying what the combination was, but instead Simon and Five saw her asking around for a hammer or a crowbar.

All the individual jars and tins in the kitchen cupboards had been wrapped in patterned Christmas paper, forcing all the people working there to unwrap each and every one. (If they were to count the amount of ingredients, they would’ve realised that they were a few more than there were the previous day.)

Then, somehow, a rumour had started that Santa himself was going to be visiting Abel. The children whispered happily about it, the parents all gave each other broad smiles, and everyone was trying to suss out who this Santa could be.

-—-

That afternoon, hidden away in a barn as far away from the other residents of Abel as they could be, Three and Five were getting changed into their costumes.

“I still think I should be Santa.” Simon huffed from behind a stack of hay bales, his voice straining with exertion as he tried to get into his outfit.

Five replied, already dressed as Santa Clause, complete with a bushy white beard and big black boots (Evan wouldn’t miss his boots for one day, surely), “The Santa trousers were so short on you that most of your calves were showing. And the jacket showed your midriff. This is for the best.”

“What’s wrong with people seeing my wonderfully toned calves and midriff?”

Five rolled their eyes while fiddling with the fake beard.

Simon’s head popped out from behind a hay bale to glare at his companion, “You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Five replied coolly, “Now hurry up, the kids will be waiting already!”

“Alright!” Simon huffed, “I’m coming out.” He let out a heaving sigh as he wondered out from behind his hiding spot.

Five let out a full belly laugh that would’ve rivalled Santa’s.

“Oi!” Simon shouted defensively over the sound of laughter.

“Sorry!” Five choked out, “It’s just… Wow. And I thought the Santa outfit was short on you.”

He was wearing a green and red elf dress that cut off at his mid-thigh, accompanied with an elf hat that had a golden bell on the end.

Simon folded his arms, then realised it made the skirt ride up even more, and brought his arms back down to his sides. Even in the low afternoon light, the redness on his cheeks was obvious.

“Oh, come on,” Five said, walking up to their elf, “For someone who’s streaked multiple times-”

“This is going to be in front of children!” Simon said indignantly.

“Yeah you’re right,” Five agreed solemnly, before breaking out into a grin, “They’re going to be scarred by your pasty legs.”

“Pasty?!” Simon cried out, “Hey, I-”

“Speaking of the children, we don’t want to keep them waiting, do we?” Five continued with a smile.

Simon let out a large exhale, “Fine. You’re right. Best get this over with.”

Five chuckled, “Aw, come on little elf. Cheer up. It’s Christmas!”

At that, Simon perked up. “Yeah, I guess it is. Alright. Let’s put on the best show Abel’s ever seen.” He held out his arm for his partner in crime, who happily linked their arm with his.

They walked back towards the centre of Abel together, Simon’s hat jingling the whole way.