#it was precisely cas that dean had the hots for

[redneckangelsdrinkmoonshine]

Something that makes my brain rot is the fact that Dean wasn't attracted to Jimmy but he was attracted to Castiel in Jimmy's body.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Do you have any fics that a very gender? Very confronts toxic masculinity in a moving way? Bonus points for 🏳️‍⚧️

I have to say it was a bit of a challenge to decode this ask so we've decided to do something general and hopefully some of these are what you were asking for. Here are some recs with fics that feature trans!characters in a meaningful way or focus on gender roles.

Fem in a Black Leather Jacket by bleuzombie [Mature, 5k words] #trans!dean

Dean has done the work to be comfortable with who himself but some reassurance from his boyfriend Castiel goes a long way as they head to a concert. Dean never dreamed he would be so lucky to find someone who could love him for all of him, panties and all.

love in the time of quarantine by sharkfish [Explicit, 6k words] #trans!castiel

Dean says, “We should have sex.” Cas chokes and looks up at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.” “We should have sex,” Dean repeats, carefully enunciating each word. Cas keeps staring at him blankly. “It’s fun and you’re hot. Perfect quarantivity.”

Made Manifest by schmerzerling [Mature, 6k words] #trans!dean

Wherein Castiel defied God for Dean before Dean even knew his name.

Mira Mira by vipjuly [Teen, 22k words] #gender fluidity

Castiel is forced to retire from being the world's most prolific and successful hired gun. He gets dropped off at Winchester B&B with a vague notion to 'find himself', but he's having a hard time understanding first of all: what that means, and secondly: how to even do that. The proprietor of Winchester B&B, Dean, a retired ex Fed, seems to have some ideas of his own.

Novaks, Rebooted by violue [Explicit, 57k words] #trans!claire

A single father, his trans daughter, a whole new life in The Golden State.

Sometimes You Have to Lose to Win by zeppazariel [Explicit, 55k words] #trans!dean

The thing is, Dean is okay with being bisexual. He’s come to terms with it, ya know? He’s got eyes, and he can see that men are hot sometimes; whatever, not a big deal. He’s perfectly fine with it. In theory. Not so much in practice. Dudes are a no-no, outside of looking. He’s not budging on this one, so it’s with confidence that he announces, “There ain’t a guy in the world who’s going to change my mind, Sam.” “You’re tempting the universe to make fun of you again,” Sam sing-songs. “The universe doesn’t have shit to do with this,” Dean argues. Sam hums. “Whatever you say, man.” But, as it turns out, the universe has a lot to do with this, and it never really misses a chance to mock him, drag him down, kick him while he’s curled into a fetal position, then take him out back and shoot him while laughing cruelly at his misery. Meeting Cas is precisely what that feels like.

BONUS: a/b/o fics that focus on gender roles

Aromatic Adjectives Need Not Apply by JessJesstheBest [Teen, 4k words]

Castiel was an Alpha, despite what everyone always guessed upon meeting him. He was tall, and he had the stern and imposing profile, but, to most people, those Alpha traits were where it ended. He had a lithe, runner’s frame, with trim waist and thick thighs. “Child-bearing hips” he’d been told. Though, obviously, no children would be born of him. This scuffling man, though. He was... round. Potentially child-bearing. And Castiel was sure his true mate wasn’t either of the other two men. Or Castiel is an Alpha that doesn't believe in true mates but sniffs one out anyway.

Butch by tiamatv [Explicit, 54k words]

When the flower shop owner sweeps his fingers through his hair, he nearly knocks the flowers tucked behind his left ear off; he spends a fussy moment readjusting them with both hands. “I don’t need to be rescued. Especially not by a stranger.” Sheesh. Touchy. But since Dean would have flashed fangs if anyone had thought he couldn’t take care of his own damned self, he can’t be throwing any stones. He shrugs—big and exaggerated, both hands up. "Not sayin’ you did. Look, not your fault that God put alpha brains at the base of their dicks." The lowered blue eyes snap back to his. Flower Boy inhales with his lips parted, all pretense at not sniffing Dean out gone, and his eyes go wider. Dean might not dress or act or look like any kind of sweet little omega, but he knows just what he smells like: really fucking inviting.

Oddly Shaped Empty by jemariel [Explicit, 65k words]

Dean grew up thinking -- knowing -- he'd be an alpha. Until he failed to present. As a beta, he has no mating cycle, no noticeable pheromones, none of the physical markers that are so important in a world of alphas and omegas. He's out of place. How is he supposed to navigate his relationships and find love when he doesn't fit into the neatly-defined boxes he's used to? By the time he meets his new roommate, Castiel, he's more or less given up on finding a mate. He wears his secondary gender like a chip on his shoulder. But you never know what the future holds, who will come into your life, and how they might change it forever..... Queer themes, finding identity, reconciling the past, and a whole lot of smut.

[dreampencil]

Dean and Cas are out looking for some kind of creature that Sam had informed him was something similar to the 'Jersey Devil'.

God knows, maybe they'll come across at least something in the woods before the fucking sun goes down. Maybe he'll even get a chance to have a beer in the motel tonight.

So it starts to rain, (of course it does) and Cas walks off, convinced he's found some tracks. When he eventually comes back, his hair is drenched and dripping all over his forehead, even his eyelashes are soaked glistening black in the fading light. SO...in the space of literally about 2 seconds, Dean has embarrassingly discovered he has a wet-hair kink. BECAUSE OF COURSE HE HAS!

To be precise he has a 'Cas with wet hair kink'. DON'T even mention the wet trenchcoat...

Damn it Cas! Why...do you look so hot just doing nothing????

They continue to hunt the devil creature, with Cas getting sexier by the second... HELP ME PLEASE! Dean internally begs to who the fuck ever is listening. He trudges on, keeping his hands in his jeans. Fuck my life!

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Suptober 15 Oct.: Smoke

"Is this right?" Cas asked.

He sounded so perplexed Dean snapped to attention to discover Cas holding a lit torch like a befuddled member of a mob.

deancas ust, post s5 au

Cold October nights in a field off a country road were hard to beat: crackling bonfire, scents of smoke and drying leaves, big spark-filled sky growing darker as the moon waned.

"Is this right?" Cas asked.

He sounded so perplexed Dean snapped to attention to discover Cas holding a lit torch like a befuddled member of a mob. 

"No," Dean clarified, and grabbed the branch out of Cas's hand. He blew on the far beyond well done marshmallow until the flames went out. A swirl of bitter smoke lingered around him and Cas for a few seconds as Dean handed back the branch.

"Thank you." Cas warily eyed the marshmallow, which was now a gooey ball of charcoal.

"Don't eat that," Dean said.

"I wasn't going to." 

"Shades of brown are fine; even darker ones are ideal. Black probably causes cancer or something."

Cas squinted in his quizzical way. "I am highly unlikely to develop cancer."

Dean tipped his head back in exasperation. "Well, bully for you." He reached backwards and felt around on the damp ground for the bag of marshmallows. He fished out one and tossed it to Cas, who caught it with surprising ease. "Let's try this again." He paused. "Swap sticks with me." 

He spent a minute pulling the hot ruined blob off of the end of Cas's branch and threw it, as best he could, into the fire, where it spat for a second before melting away completely. He rubbed his fingers in the grass to de-goop them. Finally, he took the marshmallow from Cas and pierced it with the branch. Cas made an impatient gesture and Dean held up a hand.

"Okay, round two. We're gonna do this nice and slow like, all right? I give you back the branch, you're gonna keep your friend here a little further back from the fire and you're gonna toast this marshmallow. We want even color, flavor development. We want melty in the middle and a lil crisp on the outside. We don't want an incendiary device." 

Dean gave Cas his sternest look. When he felt Cas was appropriately serious, he gave him back the branch, his fingers brushing Cas's just briefly. 

Cas sat down on the low, long log Dean occupied. He could've chosen to sit further away, but didn't. Dean could've moved over. Didn't.

He stabbed another marshmallow onto his own branch – he'd already eaten close to a dozen and what of it? – and let it dangle near the fire. No rush. With casualness he absolutely did not feel, he watched Cas out of the corner of his eye. This time, Cas was indeed following instructions, sitting up straight, feet planted in the grass. He toasted his marshmallow with precision, a look of pure determination on his face. The firelight limned his profile in flickering gold and Dean's mouth went dry staring at it.

Cas caught him and smiled a tentative smile. "This better?"

Dean managed a "Yep" before giving a small cough. The smoke, of course. Bothersome. Oh shit the marshmallow – he yanked his branch out of the fire and did not engage with the eagle-eyed look Cas was giving him.

"See, this," Dean said, playing it cool, "is a bit further along than I'd like, but!" He dusted off some of the charred outer layer and only gave himself the tiniest of second degree burns doing so. "Cleans right up." He hoovered the marshmallow into his mouth and prayed he wouldn't need medical attention later.

He didn't. Such was the magic of a well toasted marshmallow.

Cas had his marshmallow perfectly toasted and pulled away from the flames. 

Dean whistled. "That is a beautiful specimen." He grinned and bumped Cas's shoulder. "Ready to try it?"

Cas took the marshmallow off of the branch tip with his fingertips and examined it. He seemed very skeptical as he put the whole thing in his mouth.

He did not chew.

"Buddy, you have to– You eat it just like anything else." Dean bugged his eyes at him. 

After an excruciating half minute, Cas chewed with his mouth closed and his whole face telegraphing displeasure – eyebrows knitted, jaw squared. He swallowed, looking for all the world like he wanted to die. He sat there on the log and didn't speak. He looked at Dean finally, his eyes haunted.

"Your new favorite snack, huh?" Dean never had been good at certain types of sympathy. He wanted to laugh almost as much as he wanted to give Cas a hug.

A manly hug. You know.

"I found the consistency of that…thing to be altogether disconcerting," Cas said. 

"Sorry, man." Dean forced his face into a kinder expression. "Sensory issues can be a bitch."

"I'm glad I tried one," Cas said, rallying. "Now I know toasted marshmallows are horrible." He looked downright gratified about this gained wisdom.

"Well, agree to disagree. Anyway, nice – this was a successful experiment." Dean took a drink of beer out of their last bottle and handed it off to Cas, who drained the rest of it, probably to wash away the taste of caramelized sugar. 

Which was a damn shame in Dean's book, but he wasn't going to judge. He was just happy Cas was sitting beside him and not off in heaven doing whatever the other angels were doing now, in the averted-end times. 

Sadness blindsided him so hard he almost fell off the log. 

"Dean?" Cas said quietly.

"Fine, fine." Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Smokey out here." His voice was thick with it too.

"We'll figure out a way to rescue Sam, Dean." Cas put his hand in the crook of Dean's arm. 

Dean exhaled, feeling embarrassed. If Cas's angel powers were mostly offline, his ability to pick up on emotions was apparently as sharp as ever. Or maybe it was Dean's close proximity. Either way, Dean knew he should move away, put more space between them – here, and everywhere. They'd spent way too much time together in the last four months or so; Dean had been grieving for the entirety of it, but the sorrow had also been fuel. Busting Sam out of the cage was never going to be simple.

"Why'd you come back?" Dean asked, before he realized he was going to. "I mean, I know when you arrived upstairs you were summarily asked to leave again and escorted from the premises and all that, but like." He swallowed against a burning at the back of his throat. "Wasn't any reason for you to have to settle for hanging around with me."

"I haven't been settling." Cas hadn't removed his hand. He squeezed Dean's arm, as if to make sure Dean was listening. "You're my friend, and I have the chance to help you." He let go, something almost distraught in his eyes.

"What?" Dean caught his hand before he could pull it completely away.

"I…" Cas looked down at their fingers tangled together. 

Dean blinked too; he hadn't entirely meant to actually hold Cas's hand. He found he liked the weight of it.

Cas took a breath. "I regretted leaving you. Even before it was clear I wouldn't be allowed to remain in heaven… I heard your last prayer." He looked up and waited until Dean remembered.

Oh. Dean definitely remembered. The motel room. The night before he was going to head to Lisa's. He'd buckled to his knees in pain and cried until he thought his chest would split. He'd crawled across the floor and leaned against the bed, trying not to breathe too deeply or think too hard about Sam. He'd prayed one thing aloud: "Cas. Goodbye."

Cas knocked on his door the next morning. Dean dropped a postcard to Lisa (Be well. –D.) in the mailbox at the corner of the parking lot. He and Cas had started researching Sam's situation by that evening at Bobby's house. So here they were. Somewhere deep down Dean was still furious; he still didn't know whether he wanted peace or freedom or why he or anyone else should ever have to choose.

It didn't matter quite as much right at this very moment, though.

"Missed me. Huh." Dean felt his heart lighten at the sight of Cas almost smiling, almost shyly. "I'd have missed you too," he admitted. "Plus, if you'd never come back down, you'd have gone another 72 million years without eating a toasted marshmallow, and I think your life would've been the poorer for it."

Cas sighed in a resigned sort of way. But he didn't leave, and he left his hand in Dean's, and they stayed at least another hour, watching the fire dance beneath the night's beaded curtain of stars. 

[miriel-elenna]

Digital

Hamburgers sizzled on the grill.

They were Dean's special blend, just the right blend of ground beef varieties, with a couple secret herbs and spices massaged into the patties. All topped off with salt and pepper and seared by hot charcoal.

He had a gas grill, a gift from Cas and Sam and Jack back around Father's Day, but for a burger it had to be charcoal.

The sliding door into the house was open, and through it Dean could hear the rapid fire patter of Cas' knife. In his mind, Dean could see the graceful curve of Cas' fingers around the handle, the loose but precise way he held it as he chopped through vegetables like some chef on TV.

Dean would eat those vegetables and he would love them. Because Cas made them for him.

Dean flipped a burger, the scent of charred meat and grease spreading out through the air around him. He glanced at the spatula, the scars on his knuckles and calluses on his fingers. A history of violence, pain, and death memorialized on his skin.

All he had ever wanted was this: a home of his own, a person to love and share it with, a future to create not just to survive.

He flinched a little, the clatter of plates set down on the table behind him snapping him out of his thoughts.

Cas came up behind him, careful to step on the creaky board, to make a noise, to announce his presence, to not startle someone who had spent his life in fight or flight mode. Always so careful with Dean.

Cas hooked his chin over Dean's left shoulder. "Those smell great," he said, voice a warm rumble in Dean's ear, body warm and snug against his own.

"Should be nearly done," Dean replied. "Grab me the plate?"

"Of course," Cas said, and Dean could hear the smile in his tone.

Before Cas could step away, Dean reached over and grabbed his hand. Dean looked at him, their eyes met and held, and he raised Cas' hand to his lips. He kissed Cas' knuckles and squeezed his long, beautiful fingers.

Cas gazed at him, golden in the late afternoon light. Eyes full of fondness and love, eyes that Dean could finally see a future in.

Dean loved Cas, with all that was left of his soul.

[babygirlwolverine]

All I'm saying is you're so right about dean being turned on by castiel's knife skills (throwing) but you should combine that with your idea from a bit ago about cas cooking... just saying...

original post about dean being turned on by cas’ knife skills

cas being a good cook headcanon

dean rounds the corner towards the kitchen, and he hears the sound before he sees it. the fast snap of a knife as it chops over and over again against a cutting board.

when he steps into the kitchen, cas is standing at the counter, chopping vegetables so smoothly and so quickly it’s a blur to watch. the blade is moving so fast in cas’ hand that dean swears it’s not even moving. except it is. because an onion is being diced into small pieces and the sound of the blade against the board is echoing around the room.

cas turns around, moving to grab a set of carrots, when he catches sight of dean and he beams. “hello, dean,” he says with a smile, showcasing the fact he’s wearing one of dean’s old aprons that says ‘kiss the cook.’

oh god. dean definitely wants to kiss cas right now. cas’ knife skills were the hottest thing dean had ever seen. he swallowed thickly, heart lurching in his chest and blood rushing in sharp pounding tugs.

“what are you doing?” dean asks, sucking in a sharp breath as cas uses the blade in his hand to gesture towards the pot on the stove.

“making a stew. do you want to help?” cas barely turns, darting his eyes down to the carrot in his hand for half a second before beginning to chop again. he looks back up at dean, eyes not even remotely watching as he rapidly chops the carrot with extreme accuracy and precision while his eyes are absolutely locked on dean. “im just chopping up some vegetables, if you want to grab a knife and join me.”

dean can barely form words; his eyes glued to the way the blade moves so effortlessly in cas’ hand. the angel flicks his wrist in a perfect motion as he grabs another carrot and keeps chopping. dean swears the air is stuttering out of his lungs in heaving sounds, eyes blowing wide as he watches the way cas glides the blade across the board to shift the small pieces of carrot off to the side before grabbing a potato. god, this should not be a turn on… but dean is suddenly lightheaded and he swears his brain is shutting down as all his blood rushes south.

“dean? are you listening?” cas asked, snapping dean’s attention away from the way cas’ hand was wrapped around the kitchen knife.

“wha-” dean said, mind still stuck on the way cas had been so casually wielding the knife and how ridiculously attracted he is to the angel right now.

“I asked if you could get me a bowl, please,” cas repeated.

it took a second for dean’s brain to catch up with the words cas had said. forcing his feet to move, dean grabbed a bowl and handed it to cas; trying to still the way his hand was shaking.

the angel glanced up, grabbed the bowl with one hand while the other was still rhythmically dicing the potato.

“hot,” dean murmured, word slipping out of his mouth before he could stop it.

cas looked up, blinking in surprise. “what?” he asked, looking at dean and catching the way dean’s eyes were glued to his hands.

coughing awkwardly, dean tore his eyes away. “the uh- the stew. you should make it hot. like uh, spicy.”

humming, cas gave dean a warm smile. “sure, i can do that,” he said. “grab me some spices, would you?”

for the next hour, dean kept suggesting things to add to the stew that cas would have to chop or dice or cut. maybe because cas using a kitchen knife a little bit attractive. okay, a lot attractive. okay, it was hot. extremely hot, and dean just couldn’t tears his eyes away.

[louisdotmp3]

morning glories

castiel likes sunlight in the morning.

he's always liked it, ever since the first morning. he likes the way living things respond to the new light, the way bacteria swim toward it, the way critters emerge from their nightly hiding places, the way creatures stretch and yawn in the glowing dawn. he never gets tired of the way a new day emerges, the way the flowers open themselves up to it and bask in their continued existence. it reminds him of the rapturous excitement of creation. and also, it means that it's socially acceptable to consume coffee.

these days he's usually the first one up, though it wasn't always that way. for a while it seemed that he was catching up on not sleeping at all in his many millennia of existence, and dean was continuing to subsist on his four hours. he would often gasp awake at four or five in the morning and try to get up without cas noticing. he always noticed, but he'd roll over and go back to sleep anyway. and when the sunlight came hotter and brighter than the stuff dean was served at dawn, dean would be there with a hot coffee in hand, his own refilled in his other hand. sometimes he came into the room singing a made-up morning song, loudly and purposely out of tune, if cas wasn't up yet. cas knows this is his real life because he never could have imagined it as good as this.

then, they moved to a real house with real windows. their curtains are orange and gauzy in their bedroom, and the morning light spills over their bed like gold. and suddenly, it was dean that was catching up on a few decades of sleep. mostly he stays up late and sleeps late - for him, at least - because he still has trouble falling asleep. cas can tell when he's had a nightmare because he gets woken up by a joyful and boomingly loud morning song, like he's trying to drown out whatever's in his head.

(on those mornings cas usually pulls the coffees out of dean's hand to put on the nightstand and flops comically on top of him.

good morning, he'll say when he knocks the breath out of dean.

jeez, warn a guy, dean will reply, smile evident in his voice.)

but often now, cas is the one with coffees in hand. he never tries to wake dean, just sits beside him and looks. it was something he used to do all the time when cas had still been castiel, when dean was simply a human he'd gotten a confusing taste for. he remembers sitting on the side of motel beds and mapping the curves of dean's face with his eyes, the crook of his nose, the bow of his lips, the curve of his lashes. something rising in him when he thought pridefully that he'd done that. he'd recreated this man with painstaking precision and he thought he might finally know why humans felt so strongly about art. acts of creation. it was intoxicating to create something so beautiful, and it had made castiel ache to see that beauty out of his control. it was addictive to watch dean push at the boundaries of his given form, to push at the boundaries of creation. castiel had wanted him to succeed. his form reached through time and space in ways incomprehensible to humans, but he'd never felt more expansive than watching dean's soul glint in his eyes when he made up his mind.

now, he watches dean sleepily rub his eyes with the backs of his hands as he wakes in golden light. in their house, in their bed, in their sheets. he smiles because sometimes, when dean is watching him, cas asks him, what? why are you looking at me like that? and dean told him once that he felt like the grinch, and laughed at his own comment. finally, still laughing, he'd explained: his heart grew too big for his chest sometimes, when he looked at cas. sometimes his body felt too small to contain such an enormous feeling. he'd wondered aloud if the universe was big enough to contain something like that. cas had told him it wasn't, from his experience. he'd kissed him.

this morning dean yawns and stretches and reaches for cas and it's just like the flowers that bloom in the morning, cas thinks. morning glories. his life is full of morning glories.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

“Aren’t orchids hard to grow?” Sam had asked when he saw Cas’s potted plant on Dean and Cas’s kitchen island.

Cas had shaken his head, carefully misting the flower with water. “It just requires patience.”

Now, the orchid has been on the counter for a month, blooming yellow, and Cas is still taking care of it with methodical precision. Dean has enjoyed this journey--as he watches the flower grow, he gets to watch Cas grow along with it. 

Cas, newly human, has preferences, as it turns out. Jelly over jam. Buttered popcorn over salted. Briefs over boxers. Half-n-half over cream in his coffee. He likes to sleep under a comforter because of the weight but always kicks it off halfway through the night. He takes his showers scalding hot, likes to be the big spoon (Dean’s not complaining), loves procedural crime shows. 

(He also has some other preferences in the bedroom that don’t include types of blankets or spooning, but Dean’s eating breakfast and if he thinks about those preferences he won’t do anything for the rest of the day.)

Cas is inspecting the orchid’s leaves, his back to Dean, and Dean appreciates the view--one of Dean’s old t-shirts, stretched across Cas’s shoulders, Cas’s dark hair, sprinkled with grey, strewn everywhere. Dean doesn’t look down at his lower half, clad in just briefs, because once again, breakfast and trying to have a productive day and not get it on in the kitchen where there’s a risk of Jack randomly walking in. 

Dean’ll never tell Cas, because he thinks Cas likes to keep it his own little secret, but he looked it up once, what a yellow orchid means: new beginnings. Maybe that’s why Cas dotes on the flower so much, because it’s part of his--their new beginning. New house. New kind of freedom. New relationship (but it sure does feel old, like a well-worn pair of jeans, soft and pliant). 

New happiness. 

Cas turns away from the flowerpot and towards Dean, a gummy, half-caffeinated smile on his face, and Dean’s pretty sure this is the happiest moment of his life. He thinks that all the time--when he spots Cas reading on their front porch, or when Cas is breathing gently on his neck in the early morning, or when they take the dog for a walk and Cas stops to look at all the flowers--but that doesn’t make it any less true.

As long as he’s got this, he’s good.

[reblogging4thewin]

Mon Pays Sera Toi

Rating: T | 1.7k words | Destiel

Post-Canon; Canon Divergence; Scary Movies; Established Destiel; Domestic & Romantic Fluff; ADHDean; Sharing Clothes; Protective Cas; BAMF Castiel; D/S Undertones; heavy makeout sessions

Cas and Dean find shelter in each other. Cas likes the effect his protectiveness has on Dean.

Happy Birthday Sana 💕 @jactingjoices .

This was going to just be sweet and fluffy, but then Cas took over the narrative (of course) and made it a little heated.

-

The rich aroma of coffee in the air, and the halo of sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window around the puffy gray clouds set a dusky yet comforting mood for Dean. He filled his mug and inhaled, breathing easy with the knowledge that the only darkness brewing was his Columbian roast, and maybe a drizzle on the horizon.  

Having traded his earlier beers for later coffees, and his evening beers for teas (or hot chocolate), Dean’s appreciation for his brews and roasts had only deepened. Not just to a darker roast than the watery breakfast blend he used to drink in motels, but to a level of variety and precision that led to Sam calling him a coffee snob. (“You’ve got your green juice; I’ve got my bean juice.” Dean had teased him right back, earning a proper eye-roll. That was exactly the reaction he was going for. It was something else on Cas though. Cas’ full-body eye-rolls were a thing of biblical proportions and had a profound effect on Dean.)

Dean realized he’d spaced out and shook his head to clear it of that vivid image and leaned back against the counter. Cas walked into the kitchen at that moment, wearing his faded white tee and a pair of Dean’s boxers (well their tee and their boxers - they kind of shared everything at this point. Sam also said that was weird, but Cas only had to say half a sentence about the things they share before Sam covered his ears and vowed to never bring up the fact that they wear each other’s clothes ever again.).  

The dead-guy robe was loosely draped over Cas’ shoulders. He wore that more often than the trenchcoat nowadays. On the whole, Cas’ look gave the image in Dean’s mind some worthy competition. Now if he could only get him to make that smoldering, smiting look…but he didn’t want to annoy Cas. Well not right now; there were better ways to get the prize he was after.

-

Read the rest below or on ao3

Cas smiled. All he’d done was walk into the kitchen and Dean was blue-screening in front of him. It was the same look he’d gotten when he cleaned up after getting back from purgatory, and while getting undressed for their first shower together, and the first time he put on Dean’s favorite jacket. Dean still looked at him like that a lot, actually, and Cas never got tired of it. To be fair, Cas looked at Dean in his own wide-eyed way whenever he laughed, and whenever he gave Cas a compliment.

-

Dean, to his credit, was stuck on whether to go with his usual “hey honeybee” or the more appreciative “lookin’ good, sweetheart” along with a coy look over the rim of his coffee cup. What came out was: “lookin’ sweet, honeybee.” Dean licked his lips subconsciously and sat with that for a moment, taking in Cas’ sweet little smile and intensely blue eyes before clearing his throat and adding a sheepish “hey” with a little smile of his own to break the silence.  

Cas must have seen it in his eyes, because the next thing Dean knew, Cas was coming at him with the determined stride he usually reserved for smiting. But the look on his face was not the stern glare Dean was thinking of. Instead, Cas was grinning impishly as he closed the distance and braced his hands on the counter, one to Dean’s left and one to his right, and braced the rest of himself lightly on Dean - hovering over him but still having several points of contact.

Their noses touched, and Cas made it an intentional kunik. But then he continued, dragging the tip of his nose down and across Dean’s jawline before planting a kiss on his collarbone. As Cas gently mouthed along the ridges, the robe slid off of his shoulders and Dean’s stomach hit the floor along with it.

A low rumble of thunder in the distance sent a different kind of shiver up Dean’s spine, interrupting Cas’ migration down Dean’s torso. Dean brought his legs together from where they had slid, standing up straighter, and Cas pushed up against the counter to right himself also, naturally leaning more into Dean in the process. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist, and they kissed languidly and openly.

After a few moments, Dean broke the kiss with a chuckle and Cas leaned back smiling sweetly at him. "I would have said you look good in my robe but it would look better on the floor; but you've already taken care of that."

Cas looked over Dean's shoulder at the gray clouds in the window. "It looks like gardening is out of the question for now." He turned back to Dean with a wink. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

-

They settled into the couch in the living room, cuddled up against each other. Dean nuzzled into Cas' shoulder as the movie started.  

Dean had insisted that Return of the Living Dead is a classic and that even though Cas didn't care much for zombie movies, this was a good one and a must-see.

Whenever Cas thought Dean had shown him all of his 'must-see' classic films, Dean always had more in his collection. Cas rolled his eyes but his smile gave away that fact that he loved watching them all with Dean.

When they got to the part where the military is talking about bombing the town, Dean mumbled into Cas' neck. "What would you do if the government was going to bomb this town? Fly us off somewhere?"

"I would protect you." Cas said with a fierceness that made Dean shiver pleasantly.  

-

Cas felt Dean shiver against his side and turned to look at him directly. Dean's hooded eyes and slightly parted lips told him everything he needed to know.

He turned towards Dean and gently grabbed his shoulders, coaxing him to turn and lay back onto the couch as he hovered over top of him, his hands on either side of Dean's torso, boxing him in.

"I would shield you from the blast. Just," he kissed Dean's forehead; "like" he kissed Dean's nose; "this." He kissed Dean's neck gently, punctuating his words, and nosed his way back up to Dean's cheek, locking eyes with him.

He was rewarded with the anticipation in Dean's eyes - exactly what he was looking for. He teased just a bit more, ghosting his lips right next to Dean's mouth before capturing him with an intensity that he knew Dean loved.

When they stopped for a breath, Dean smiled coyly and gestured towards the tv. "Movie making you hungry? You're devouring me."

"Well," Cas ran a hand down Dean's side, and slowly trailed his finger back up. "You are delicious." He carded a hand through Dean's hair, which at this length was pleasantly fluffy between his fingers. He smirked at his own joke before he said it. "But I would never eat your brain."

Now it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "But you do know how to shut it off."

"Yes." Cas pressed closer to Dean, gliding a hand down his arm and firmly but gently took his wrist and raised it, pinning Dean's arm beside his head. With that hand down he took his other hand and did the same, pinning both of Dean's hands up above him.  

Cas hovered there over Dean, appreciating the look of pure awe and pleading in Dean's eyes. He loved Dean with every physical and spectral fiber of his being.  

"Who's the zombie now?" He kissed Dean gently, deepening the kiss as Dean's lips parted.  

After a moment, he felt Dean's arms wiggle in his grasp with more than just a tremble; it felt as though he wanted to grab at him. Cas broke the kiss and leaned up to give Dean a chance to breathe for a moment.  

"And if that didn't work?" Dean breathed softly. "What would you do next?"

Cas seized the opportunity and unfurled his spectral wings, letting them become a little more opaque - translucent rather than transparent.  

"Then I'd fly you away." He relished the little gasp that escaped from Dean's lips, and the minute vibration in his eyes. He wrapped his wings around Dean. "I'd take us somewhere safe."

-

Dean's mouth was dry and it took him a moment to form words. "Anywhere you want, Angel."

He saw Cas falter for a second, probably considering calling him "human" back sarcastically as he's done before, but he must have decided against it as the next thing Dean knew, Cas had flown them onto the roof.  

The storm had stopped by now, but the shingles were still a little wet. Thankfully, Cas had grabbed the throw blanket off the couch and flown it along with them. It was soft and dry under Dean's back.

Bathed in moonlight and with room to expand, Dean watched in unrestrained awe as Cas' wings became more solid, raven black and shimmering in an iridescent rainbow of colors that he never got tired of seeing spread out above him.

He lost the ability to form words, so he used prayer.  

"I thought you'd be aiming for the bedroom."

"Well, you did say anywhere I want." Cas leaned down over him, lining up their bodies and making contact with the slightest bit of pressure as he kissed him. Cas tucked his wings out of the way and maneuvered even closer into Dean's personal space.

Dean noticed the full moon above them and was inadvertently reminded of other things, people, and feelings. He hated having intrusive thoughts.

Dammit, Winchester. This is not the time to be scatterbrained.  

-

Cas recognized Dean's look when his focus meter was low. He wasn't insulted. He loved the way Dean thinks. It's how Dean could be so clever. So ingenious. And besides, he knew just how to get Dean back on track. He caressed Dean's cheek as he broke the kiss.

Reaching his hands under Dean, he gently raised him up, settling down onto the roof so that Dean was in his lap.

A moment of fear flashed across Dean's eyes at being off-balance.

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and held him close. "You're safe, Dean." He trailed a hand up from the small of Dean's back, tracing a finger up his spine, making him shiver and go still in his hands. He knew exactly how to push Dean's buttons. Cas could never get enough of the way Dean melts in his arms.

"I trust you." Dean breathed, and Cas started trailing kisses down his neck. 

-

There, on the roof of their house, in the quiet calm of night, they found shelter in each other, basking in the glow of their love and the moonlight.  

[queen-rowenas]

destiel december 2020 - doing this thing hosted by @jellydeans and @galaxycastiel

day 5 - shopping (wc - 1k)

(still late, but have some chaotic fluff)

Shopping with Cas was the best and the worst.

Dean would take any chance to wander around a mall with Cas for hours, having those amused eyes and close-lipped smile pointed at him as he tugged him around by the hand all day. The best was the small furrow of his brow and tilt of his head as he evaluated each item Dean showed him with the most serious consideration.

Dean felt like a giddy teenager. It was the best.

He loved him so much, it was almost embarrassing.

But the dude was hopeless when it came to gift-giving.

For someone who took shopping very seriously, Cas almost always missed the mark. He combed through stores with the precision of a man—or angel—of a mission. And his gift choices were...practical, but not always the best for the holidays.

Dean once caught him standing at a display of feminine products for Claire fifteen minutes after he had lost him.

It was a common occurance where Dean would have to snag him by the sleeve of his trench coat and drag him away.

Cas was like an old bloodhound who still had the passion and commitment to forget everything else to follow the scent, but managed to find the wrong thing at the end of the trail.

Which is how Dean found himself wandering the mall with an armload of bags and no angel. And he had checked everywhere. He walked through every clothing store, double-checked the bookstore, and even went back to the Build-A-Bear that Cas had eyes on their way in. But still no angel.

Adjusting his hold on the bags, Dean huffed and tried calling him again. “Come on, you son of a—”

“This is my voicemail. Make your voice...a mail.”

Dean cursed, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He really needed to put a tracker on Cas. Or maybe a one of those kids’ backpack leashes.

He’s fine, he told himself, He just got distracted again. He’s totally fine.

But what if someone had finally found them. With everything they had done, there was bound to be someone with a bone to pick with them. Maybe it was angels, or demons, even though Jack and Rowena had been doing a good job of keeping everyone in line. Hell, maybe it was an evil mall Santa.

Dean finally found the mall help desk, unloading his bags on the floor. “Hey, hi, uh,” he tried to get his breathing to calm, “I need help finding someone. He’s got, um, dark hair and blue eyes. His name is Cas.”

The girl working the desk gave him a sympathetic smile. “Of course, sir. How old is your son?”

“Oh, he’s not my son. He’s my boyfriend.”

She blinked, and then her smile grew. “I see. Would you like me to send an announcement through the mall?”

“Yes, that’d be great.”

She started for the receiver and paused. “What’s his last name?”

“Oh, it’s, uh...” Novak. Cas usually uses Jimmy’s name. That makes sense. “Winchester.”

Dean’s cheeks burned as the name left his lips. He wanted to bang his head on the desk. Where the hell had that come from? He barely heard it as the woman called for Cas Winchester to come to the help desk.

The minutes that passed felt like hell, and Dean had been there. Pain, terror, time stretched impossibly long. He drummed his fingers furiously on the desk, eyes darting in every direction looking for that trench coat. He tried to ignore the girl’s glances that turned even more pitying by the second.

I’m gonna have to case this place. I’m gonna have to call Sam and Eileen and Jack and search this whole mall. Maybe this whole city.

That’s when he caught a glimpse of tan in the crowds. A sigh of relief punched out of Dean’s chest as he ditched his bags and started towards Cas.

The angel had the audacity to frown and tilt his head, a shopping bag in one hand and a Han Solo Build-A-Bear under his arm, as Dean moved in fast.

“Where the hell have you been?”

But Dean’s anger—more fear than anything—melted away as he reached him, taking his face in his hands, and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Cas’s frown softened but still kept the crease between his brow. “I was at the Hot Topical getting Claire a gift. Why didn’t you pray to me?”

Dean’s blush returned in full force. “I panicked, okay?”

The angel gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Dean said, going to take his hand.

Cas sidestepped him towards the collection of bags. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean rolled his eyes as his boyfriend grabbed all but two of the smaller bags. He scooped up the two in one hand and held out the other to Cas. “C’mon, I’ve got a free hand.”

“Oh.” Cas shifted all of the bags to one hand and took Dean’s hand.

“That’s not what I—” He sighed and smiled down at their joined hands. “Okay.”

He cast a glance back to the girl at the help desk, her elbows propped on the desk and a grin on her face. “Thanks for your help.”

“Any time,” she said with a wave, “Happy holidays.”

“You too.” Dean turned back to Cas. “What did you get Claire, anyways?”

“Her angry cat that I got her was damaged on one of her last trips, so I got her a new one to replace it.” He looked to Dean, suddenly concerned. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

Dean grinned and squeezed his hand. “She’ll love it.”

As they walked to the exit, Cas’s lip quirked up. “Cas Winchester?”

Dean’s brain and mouth stuttered, and he ducked his head. He nearly withdrew his hand, but Castiel’s hold on it tightened. “It just, you know, felt right.”

Cas smiled, lips closed but eyes bright. “I agree.”

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Completely Mine

Author: markofcain

Artist: starsdahb

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Other - Relationship, Jo/Charlie (minor)

Length: 33380

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: College AU, Crush, Underage drinking, Internalized homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Anal Sex, Top Cas/Bottom Dean Winchester

Posting Date: November 15, 2021

Summary:  Emotional but excited about leaving home and moving to college, Dean got enamored by a genius named Castiel on the second day of college. He couldn’t stop thinking about him even though he has known himself to be straight all his life. If coming to terms with his sexuality was hard enough, what makes everything harder was that he had hots for the guy who was already in a relationship and lived on the floor above him.  It seems the universe is against Dean because surely there’s no chance that he can actually be with the man he loves or is there?

Excerpt: The fairy lights that were strung around the room gave a warm glow and the blue ball of light gave off just enough brightness to add to the atmosphere. There were around fifteen to twenty people in the room. Some were sitting around the dining table, playing cards, some were standing in groups with beer bottles in their hands, others were lounging on the couch.  Before Dean could completely take in the vibe, he heard a voice that shifted the ground below him. "Babe, who do we have here?" Dean followed the sound of the voice and saw Castiel coming towards them with lazy strides.  In a mere second, thoughts started buzzing in Dean's brain like a swarm of bees. He didn't know what to hold onto first. His first thought was, What's this guy doing here? His second thought was, What should I do now? Or, more precisely, Where should I hide? But the thought that dominated the rest was how badly he wished to be the "babe" Castiel was referring to.  Until Dean could hold onto any of these thoughts and ruminate on them, Castiel stood right in front of him and Dean could do nothing else but stare. Even in the dim light, he could see the beautiful blue irises of his eyes. Just then Damien stepped in front of him and gave Castiel a kiss on the lips. The sudden urge to beat the shit out of him rose in Dean, but he rationalised himself out of it.  "This is..uh... Dean. He's living downstairs with Charlie and Jo," Damien replied to Castiel's earlier question.  Castiel refocused his attention on Dean, mulling over something before saying, "Interesting." He said the word like he was feeling the taste of wine on his tongue. "We share some classes, don't we?" Dean couldn't figure out why he felt so elated at being recognized. "Yeah... I guess," he replied with as much nonchalance as he could muster.  "Hello, Dean. I am Castiel. Welcome to our building and to the party. I am sure you are thrilled to have these girls as your flatmates. I sure have been loving them as my neighbours and now I hope we will be spending a lot of time together too," Castiel said, staring deep into Dean’s eyes in a way that made Dean question the stability of his legs. He attempted to give a nod and smile while his heart was racing. Shit. Shit. Castiel lives here! Castiel is his neighbor!

DCBB 2021 Posting Schedule

[deanwasalwaysbi]

BreakDown of Deleted Drowley Scene 10x23 - Closeted!Dean

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I’M WEEZING!

Crowley: and I hate to say it, Dean, but at the risk of taking this Dream in a totally different direction, we complete each other.

Dean: Ah Crowley, I’m nothing like you. And I never will be. [Backlit in Bi Colors]

Cont. under the cut

Let’s remember that Dean is very effected by the Mark by this point - his emotions are more on the surface than they would have been, but he’s no longer full demon!dean like he was at the beginning of the season, when his repression was in full submission.   

The scene starts with Dean talking to the ‘hot’ bartender from his old perspective, the immature perspective of more skin=more sexy

He flirts but doesn’t actually seem interested [see Pamela in his Michael dream bar, w/e]  She says he has an admirer and then it cuts to a bloody Castiel who Dean feels incredibly guilty about.  

Dean’s drinking ‘El Sol’ - the Poughkeepsie of Spn beer. 

Crowley references what was essentially his marriage proposal from the beginning of the season to in this scene.  [here is where I realize that my meta on 10x01 hasn’t actually posted yet, link to come].

Crowley sees the inside of Dean’s head and insults it - This is what you dream about? Really? On the one hand putting Dean down but on the other he’s also saying that Dean doesn’t think enough of himself. He uses a petname for Dean, which tbf is not new. 

Crowley informs Dean that Sam tried to kill him, and Dean teases him saying he’s sorry he didn’t succeed. Crowley knows Dean was teasing, based on how Mark Sheppard plays it and the script for this scene, which confirms that Crowley sees through Dean’s taunt, that Dean didn’t mean it and Crowley knows that.

Drowley 

“My mother working with your brother to kill me to save you. It’s all become one great big telenovela, hasn’t it?” [both drink] [Canonically - Dean watches telenovelas.] Usually in a telenovela there would be a romance at the heart of all the drama.  It’s certainly much more dramatic if the two at the center were involved [ahem].

in context - if you don’t look at this line too carefully, "I’m nothing like you”  is Dean rejecting Crowley’s offer to be in an evil partnership - ruling hell together.  But if you DO LOOK at the text - Crowley said NOTHING about Dean being like Crowley, NOTHING. nothing about being evil, nothing about needing to kill.  This isn’t directly after Crowley revived the idea of Dean being his right hand man in hell. This is after

Crowley: and I hate to say it, Dean, but at the risk of taking this Dream in a totally different direction, we complete each other.

This is about the fact that Crowley is pansexual, and Dean doesn’t want to admit to not being straight. 

I’M WEEZING

Dean: Ah Crowley, I’m nothing like you. And I never will be.  [Backlit in Bi Colors] [Dean’s lying face]

Crowley: Actually, you’re much worse. Insane man doesn’t know he’s insane.

[you’re not only not straight - you’re just deep in the closet, buddy]

Dean then breaks a bottle and physically threatens Crowley for suggesting that he isn’t straight  [batman voice to cover bi panic with toxic masculinity] “I am nothing like you.”

Make no mistake - this is Dean claiming to be straight.  What other explanation is there for the sudden violent change in his demeaner? in his performance of masculinity?

Crowley: Hey, it’s your dream. Good luck when you [snaps]

Good luck when you snap out of it Dean, when that wall comes crashing down, and you realize you're not straight- because that bidisaster is going to be a MESS for everyone involved.

Dean ended the last season dying and coming back as a Demon because of Crowley’s manipulation of him. He started this season in a sort of relationship with Crowley that was completely unhealthy for him, grown out of his trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms for that trauma.

Crowley wasn’t one of the entities mentioned by Cain when he described what Dean would become - Castiel was. and Dean’s feeling awfully guilty about what Dean did to Castiel just now, when Crowley comes in with the backsliding offer.  Dean giving Cas the knife at the end of that fight hurt Crowley so much precisely because Crowley had won the S9 love triangle, if this had been any telenovela or soap opera, Crowley would have been expecting Dean to choose him over Cas, but no. Dean gives Cas the knife.

Even without the implications from other deleted scenes this season, The show has snuck in all kinds of comments to indicate that the Drowley summer of love took place. They showed Crowley pining over a photo from his flikr account of he and Dean in cowboy hats, Sam coins the term "drowley summer of love" in the same episode where it's revealed Dean saved Crowley's voicemail, Dean and Crowley had an off screen all male fiveway!, the show set up a damn love triangle amv of a recap, Crowley goes on to save Cas for Dean, and tells him he couldn't kill him.

Get over it Dean, we know about you two. You're his crazy ex-boyfriend.

[buckyownsmylife]

Clean - John Winchester Smut

The one where John’s your best friend’s father

Warnings: smut, age gap, rough sex, oral sex (f), p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, curse words

A/N: Day 6 of kinktober and I’m really exhausted and low. But here it is. Hope you guys like it. The prompts were overstimulation and bestfriend’s father.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I could feel his eyes on me from across the room. It was difficult not to, especially when it felt like my body was so perfectly attuned to his, permanently in search for his attention. But of course, because things couldn’t be easy, not only was he thirty years older than me, he was also my best friend’s father.

Sammy wasn’t even my age, which made it worse. Even he was older than me, as we’d met in college, where I’d been accepted even before I was of legal age. And now that we’d ran into each other after I lost everything and everyone I knew to a werewolf pack, he felt like it was his responsibility to take care of me, which is how I ended up in his family’s bunker, permanently stuck with him, his older brother Dean, their friend Cas - who was an angel - and their father, John. The muse behind every wet dream I’d ever had since our eyes had first met.

Life with the Winchesters - and Cas - wasn’t hard or bad. Most of the time I stayed at the bunker, perfectly content in helping with research - it was my favorite activity, after all. John had been scared of allowing me to join them on their hunts, saying I needed actual training that they couldn’t quickly provide, but these last few weeks had found us alone with each other more often than not, his hands over mine as he taught me how to pull the trigger of a gun.

That part was hard, ignoring how his touch made me feel electrified when he was so close, holding my hands in front of my body from behind and directing them towards a designated target, but not as hard as the cock I felt straining his jeans and rubbing against my backside in those same moments.

We never spoke of it, both pretending to not notice, but we knew better. And that’s precisely why I allowed him to run off into his bedroom immediately after our training sessions, without accompanying him to offer my help in return.

He was my best friend’s father. I shouldn’t. But fuck did I want to.

So that’s why these last few days, it felt like the temperature had been steadily rising between us, to the point where it seemed like we’d both burn up into flames at any moment. John had gotten back from a hunt five days ago and still hadn’t offered to meet me in a training session, something that struck me as weird, but I didn’t want to bother him, so I never asked for it, opting to simply wait for his invitation.

Now, I could feel him staring at me from across the room, and as much as I wanted to ask why, I didn’t. I just kept my head down as I tried to concentrate on the research Sam asked me to help him with.

Just as I was about to finally be able to focus, though, Dean decided to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

“Who wants to go to the bar?” It was an invitation made strictly out of politeness. He’d long ago given up on ever getting me to leave the bunker to “relax” in that kind of loud atmosphere, so I just granted him a sheepish smile, to which he chuckled. “Alright, I got it. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Sam, what about you?”

My best friend’s head whipped up from the book he was reading at the mention of his name, and it took him some time to tune in into what Dean was talking about. When he did, much to everyone’s surprise, he actually nodded, closing his book and stretching up. “Sure, I think I deserve some rest after this week. Are you sure I can’t convince you to join us, Y/N?”

John’s P.O.V.

She smiled, but shook her head at my boys.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun. Besides, anytime you take me with you, someone ends up having to babysit me, and I’m sure the main reason you want to go out is to find someone to spend the night with, right?” Sam blushed, but didn’t deny. Dean, on the other hand, always my son, just chuckled, no embarrassment in his features. 

“Well, a man’s gotta live.” What he didn’t add was that if she offered, he’d exchange all the skanks in the world for a chance to be with her. The only person who didn’t take notice in his obvious crush for her was her.

There was another thing that remained unspoken while the boys prepared to leave the bunker. The main reason why someone had to stay behind with her was because no other girl approached our table when she was around us. She just had that effect. We became so enraptured by her that no one else caught our eye, and so no one approached.

We didn’t mind. She took all of our attention when she was around, and she didn’t even know it. So it was safe to say that ever since she stopped agreeing to be dragged out into bars with us, we were grateful.

“Dad?” They hadn’t realized I had made no effort to get ready until they were already at the door. 

“‘M not going tonight.” Her surprised eyes found mine from the other side of the room, but just like my kids, she didn’t say anything. In another minute or so they were gone and then it was only her and I in the bunker for the night.

I could see the tension in her shoulders from the other side of the room, and I almost chuckled. Perhaps this was only another sign in a long list of things that should show me how screwed up I was for wanting what I did, but I’d given up trying to fight it. I’d fucked woman after woman thinking about the girl in front of me, and she was still the only one I could think about when I lied down at night. So now it was time to get her.

“Y/N,” I called out to her a few minutes after the boys had left, wanting to give them time to possibly come back to get whatever item they might have forgotten, but when that wasn’t the case, I broke the silence that had fallen in the room without a second thought. “Come here.”

I could see even from the distance between us that she flinched at the sound of her own name. Had I startled her? She was a hunter, she couldn’t be so easily scared, but perhaps it was the tension that had appeared between us that made her uneasy enough to jump at anything.

Her head whipped up to look at me, but she didn’t immediately do anything, just stared, like she was unsure if I’d actually called her name or if it was only her own imagination playing tricks on her. When I refused to repeat myself, but still maintained eye contact with her, she slowly got up from her chair and made her way to where I was sitting, giving me the perfect opportunity to appreciate her body.

Fuck, she really was something. The way that jeans hugged her curves, showing off her tight ass, and how her breasts bounced with each step she took towards me. It was impossible not to be aroused - I couldn’t understand how Sam kept it in his pants. I knew for a fact Dean had eyed her quite a bit, because I was the one to remove any ideas of him ever getting with her with a single slap on the back of his head when I got him smirking down at her.

That kid was too much like me for his own good.

“You called?” She asked when she was finally right in front of me, her head doing that cute little thing where it leaned to one side as she nibbled on her lower lip, waiting for any sort of reaction from me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John’s stare was an intense kind of torture, one that seemed perfectly constructed just to break me down to my most primal state. I had no doubt he’d be able to achieve that. After what felt like hours of him undressing me with those brown hues that had seen so much more than he actually let on, he finally showed me some sort of direct recognition, sitting up straighter in the armchair he was sprawled on, before clearing his throat.

“Yes, I did call you. You see, Y/N, I’ve found myself in a sort of… situation, for quite sometime now, and I’ve tried everything I could to get myself through it. There’s only one thing left, now. You.”

My eyebrows flew up while I opened my mouth several times, in search of something to say. Still, with the little amount of information I had, all that was left for me to ask was “Me? How can I help you?”

By the way the corners of his lips twitched up - the closest thing to a smile coming from John Winchester - it was clear that while he anticipated my questioning, it still amused him greatly. I got the impression that he thought of me as something precious, innocent even, and while I couldn’t understand neither where I got this idea or why he thought of me like that, the truth was that it got me hot like nothing else.

“Considering you are the very reason for my problem, I’d say there are a lot of ways you can help me, sweetheart.” My heart had started beating more quickly, the innuendo in his words, the tension that had been ever-present in the atmosphere between us, it all made sense. But I still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that he actually wanted me.

I didn’t want to do or say anything that let on what I was thinking about, because God, how embarrassing would it be if I had completely misread this situation?

John sighed at my lack of response, throwing a hand through his hair as he looked around the room before fixing his eyes on me again. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t want to put you into a difficult position and I most definitely don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want, I just think you might be interested in taking up my offer. I’ve seen the way you look at me, it’s not much different from how I look at you either. None of the boys need to know. This would just be between me and you.”

I was certain he was able to hear my heartbeat by now, but still, I forced myself to speak over the thundering sound resonating in my ears. “And what would that be, exactly? Your offer, I mean.”

John didn’t immediately answer, opting instead to run his eyes through my figure once more. I forced myself to contain the inevitable shiver, pondering how the hell was he able to feel so dominating while remaining seated, whereas I was standing up.

John’s P.O.V.

“I want to use you as my personal fucktoy,” I decided to get on with it, lay it all out in the open as soon as possible. There was no reason to hide, after all, I wasn’t exactly a blushing virgin and I wanted her to know exactly what she was getting herself into if she accepted my proposal.

“Now, I need you to really understand this, pretty girl. I’m not fucking around and I’m most definitely nothing like the boys you probably fucked up until now. When I say I want you to be my fucktoy, I mean you will be my fucktoy. I have a lot of pent up frustrations to deal with and I will not do anything other than use you. It will be rough. I will not be gentle.”

I watched with clear interest as my words registered in the girl in front of me. It wasn’t hard to see that she was interested in what I was offering, by the way she was biting her lip and changing her weight from one leg to another. I was willing to bet that she was wet already. 

“Are you sure we’ll be able to keep this from the boys?” I smiled at how she called my sons, who were both older than her, and at her priorities. There was a reason I knew I should take the leap and look for relief in her. Instead of worrying about how rough I could be, she just wanted to know about the privacy of it all.

“Come here, sweetheart,” I asked, beckoning her to my lap. She obeyed with barely any hesitancy, which instantly aroused me. There was nothing I loved more than a girl who knew her place and what she wanted.

As soon as she was in touching distance, I pulled her to sit on one of my thighs, relishing in the tiny gasp of surprise she let out at the sudden movement. “You don’t need to worry,” I assured her, while wrapping a strand of her hair on one of my fingers, while my other hand secured her in her spot. “We’re both consenting adults, right? They never have to know about what we do when they aren’t here.”

Her eyes had been staring at my mouth as I talked, and by the end of my question she quickly raised them to meet mine again, like she was scared to be caught staring. A chuckle caught in my throat, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me. “Just come here,” I said right before meeting her lips with mine.

It was exactly as I imagined, her softness meeting my chapped lips with some timidness as I forced her to welcome my eager tongue. The tiny moan that she let out as I parted her lips to get my first taste of her went straight to my cock, making me groan before I adjusted her so she’d sit properly on both of my thighs, facing me. 

Her hands clutched my shirt as mine explored her body, masculine satisfaction filling my chest at the knowledge that from now on, she’d be mine to take.”Wanna start being a good girl for me?” I whispered in her ear, fully enjoying seeing the goosebumps that rose up on her arms at the touch of my breath on her skin.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Yes,” I breathed out without even thinking twice, completely lost to the feeling of John’s warm, manly hands groping my body. His ever-present smell of whiskey and gunpowder was going straight to my head, making me feel like the world was swirling around us as he savored my lips, my jaw, my throat, his hands getting lost in my hair before grabbing my ass over my jeans, grinding me against him.

“Then get up,” he ordered, already helping me do as he said with his hands on my waist. When I was standing in front of him again, he ran his eyes through me one more time before continuing, “Now strip.”

I’d normally feel at least a bit timid of following his direction, but with John looking at me like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on, I found myself wishing that my clothes were already on the floor - especially since it suddenly felt way too hot in this bunker, the fluorescent lights a sun in itself. 

First went my shirt, before I unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall down to my ankles. John licked his lips at the sight of my body in just my underwear, before telling me to step out of my jeans.

He didn’t need to tell me to proceed with my strip-tease, I did so instinctively, my bra quickly falling down to the floor before my panties followed the same path. John’s gaze had darkened considerably, and had become so strong that it almost felt like a physical presence over me, exploring my crevices.

“Pull out that chair, sweetheart,” he nodded towards one of the simple wooden chairs we kept by one of the dining tables, and although I quirked an eyebrow in his direction, I did as he said, positioning the chair to face him, before he tutted. “Turn it around,” he instructed, and I did so quickly, my breasts bouncing with each step I took. “Now brace yourself on the back of that chair.”

For the first time, I hesitated before doing what he wanted. With him still seating right behind me, I’d be quite literally giving him a vision of everything. But of course, that was precisely what he wanted, so I just resorted to doing exactly as he said, wrapping my arms around the back of the chair and leaning over so that my pussy was on display for him.

I didn’t witness any sort of reaction for a few seconds, and my heart was beating so loudly I couldn’t even hear his breath to be able to actually pinpoint if he was still seated or not. All I knew was that with each passing minute, my nerves stood on end, my nipples tightening in the warm air of the room while I could feel my wetness start to seep out of my lower lips.

But then, I felt his hands on the back of my thighs, his warm breath right over my most intimate part, like he was teasing himself with my smell before allowing his own satisfaction. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he whispered in that rough voice of his that always gave me shivers. Accompanied by a sweep of his knuckles against my most sensitive part, it almost made my knees buckle.

John’s P.O.V.

I had to stop myself from chuckling at how much my little actions affected her. I could only imagine how she’d look all fucked out, when I was done with her. “Hang there, sweetheart, I wanna get myself a taste.” Keeping her still by my grip on her legs, I buried my face on her pussy from behind, paying attention to the adorable little gasp she let out at the first swipe of my tongue. “You can be as loud as you want, pretty girl. The boys aren’t here to hear ya.”

I slowly collected some of the wetness already slipping out of her with the tip of my tongue, relishing in her sweet taste. I immediately needed more, needed to have it dripping off my beard, imprinted on my taste buds.

All calmness and control recklessly abandoned, I pressed myself further inside of her, only half-listening to the broken moans and gasps leaving her lips as she tried to remain in the position I ordered her to be in, while I lapped up her cunt with a vigor I hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Fuck, you really are a sweet thing, aren’t you? I’d forgotten how great young pussy tasted. Hang in there, sweetheart, this might take a while.” It wasn’t my plan to spend so much time just eating her out, but she was just too delicious to leave without having her cum directly against my tongue. So I gave her my all, engulfing her pussy in my mouth as my jaw rubbed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, my beard certainly leaving a burning sensation I could only take egoistic pride in. Finally, she gave me what I wanted, cumming directly into my mouth with my nose pressed against her little clit, and I drank it all in, licking my lips and hers to make sure I wouldn’t waste any drop.

She was still trembling and trying to catch her breath when I pulled away from her, rubbing my lips to chase the remnants of her taste. Then I paused, once again looking her up and down, from the tiptoes she was resting on, the back of her thighs until the perfectly presented cunt just there for me to take.

“Wait just there, darlin’, I think I might need a second taste.” By the time I was done with her, three orgasms later, she’d cum with my hands spreading her asscheeks, after I fucked my tongue inside her pretty little asshole, with a single finger inside of her while I bit on her thighs and finally, with three digits buried to the knuckle, as she begged me for a release I was more than happy to give her. Her juices were already dripping past her ankles, and as much as I wanted to lick it all up, clean her with my tongue, my cock had been throbbing inside my jeans for far too long to continue to be ignored.

Rising up behind her, I caressed the skin of her back as I tried to calm her down, while I kept one hand on my belt, prying it open. “There, sweetheart. We’re almost done, aren’t we? All that’s left for you to do now is to welcome my cock into that tight cunt of yours. Think you can do it?”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

My heart couldn’t keep up with what was going on. It felt like I’d just run a marathon, my skin all sweaty while my wetness dripped on the concrete floor below us. “Y-yes,” I answered with all the energy I had left, flinching at how hoarse my throat felt. “I can do it.”

John chuckled warmly, and it was with a jolt of excitement that I realized his cock was out, as he pulled me against his chest by my hair. “I know you can, sweet thing. The question is… how badly do you want it?”

He rubbed his cock against me as he whispered the question in my ear, and I gasped at how thick he felt, immediately comprehending what he wanted from me. “Please, John, I want it so bad. I want your cock inside of me, I need it.” 

The growl I got in response let me know I had gotten it right even before I felt the head of his cock pressing against me, spearing me open. He shoved it all inside of me in a single thrust, not allowing me anytime to get used to the feeling of being so brutally stretched after he bottomed out.

“Now, darlin’, you just hold onto that chair and let me ruin you.” Pushing me against the chair again, he immediately started to pound against me, both hands so tightly holding onto my waist that I was sure I’d have bruised in the morning.

He wasn’t lying about ruining me. I’d never been so forcefully fucked in my entire life, and it wasn’t hard to see that I had John’s sexual experience to thank for it. “John!” I screamed out his name as I felt myself reaching that high again, my channel throbbing around him. He just kept fucking me with the same intensity, turning my sensitiveness into overstimulation in a second.

“John, please!” I begged as tears rolled down my cheeks from the way it all felt like too much - the feeling of being so filled, the way my clit ached and throbbed, my pussy trying to push him out and keep him in at the same time. Still, I couldn’t be certain of what I was asking for - for him to stop? To continue? Both ideas sounded equally necessary to me at that moment.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be my fucktoy?” He asked threateningly, pulling me by my hair again so he could lick the salt on my cheek. “You can take it, sweetheart. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” With a slap over my clit, I cried as my last orgasm suddenly intensified and I felt myself bursting with a white hot flash of an orgasm as I squirted all over our clamped legs.

When I finally managed to blink my eyes open again, I realized John was still hugging me to him, but he’d stopped moving. Then, I realized the mess between my legs was even stickier, and it all made sense.

“I forgot to ask you where I could cum,” he joked, kissing my temple before slowly pulling out of my abused pussy. He looked around for my clothes before selecting my shirt to wipe the excess moisture on our skins.

“It’s okay,” I explained as I tried to catch my breath, still frozen on the same spot and holding the chair, since I was scared my legs would fail me if I tried to move. “I’m on the pill.” Before I could say anything else, John picked me up bridal style and started moving us towards the bedrooms, making me wheeze in surprise. “Where are you taking me?” I inquired, confused and tired, but he looked down at me like I was suddenly gone crazy. 

“My bedroom. I figured I’d let you soak in a bath while I take care of the mess we left in the living room. Then I can come back and hold you for a bit, before you fall asleep. How does that sound?” As hard as it was to wrap my head around the concept of John Winchester performing aftercare, I was too tired to even question, so I just nodded, smiling softly up at him.

“Sounds perfect.”

[stillwinchester]

It's a date

“I've never been on a date,” Cas says it casually, still staring at the screen, but something in his voice shifted. Dean can hear sadness and craving, it's difference than five minutes ago when Cas was commenting the movie very excited.

As an angel, he didn't feel the need to dates, and as a human, he got stood up by this girl from Gas n' Sip. Dude doesn't have luck with this stuff.

“Yeah... We can go together. As friends, I mean. You know, a friendly date,” explains Dean, finishing it awkwardly. Shit, he and his stupid ideas.

“Really?” Cas turns his head to him, and smiles cheerfully. And dammit, all of this was worth that smile. Dean nods and smiles back.

“Tomorrow?”

“I would love to, Dean.”

“So, it's a date.”

They come back to watch a movie, but Dean's eyes are catching Cas' face all the time. The grin doesn't go away until the credits.

*

Dean doesn't do it on purpose. Of course, he doesn't! The red flannel, that one which makes that his eyes are greener, accidentally is the first thing in his closet, even if he's looking for it all fifteen minutes.

Of course, he also doesn't use one of Sam's hair conditioner on purpose, he just thinks it's a shampoo obviously! It's not his fault that Sammy puts his stuff everywhere.

He doesn't shave more precisely, and for sure he doesn't use the best cologne he has.

No, he doesn't. He's not like that, and this is just a friendly date.

*

Cas does it on purpose. Of course, he does! He loves wearing Dean's baggy t-shirts, but he misses his old outfit. That's why he dresses jeans and white shirt, but he remembers to unbutton it a little.

He also uses one of Sam's hair conditioner, on purpose because the bottles are totally different that you can't mistake it for shampoo.

At the end, he uses body mist which he bought last time in the perfumery. It smells like fresh sweet melon with a touch of violets.

Cas does all of this on purpose, even if he knows it's just a friendly date.

*

Dean takes Cas to the amusement park, he has never been in one before, and he seems to be excited to see all these colorful lights and hear the music.

First, they go to these small, silly cars. Dean feels awkward, but there's a lot of adults, so he relaxes a little bit. Cas is enjoying driving the car, and after a few minutes he bumps purposely in Dean's car.

“And that's why I don't let you drive Baby,” says Dean, but Cas just grins at him, and bumps his car again.

“I'm a very good driver, Dean. Never cross speed limit, none fine.”

“And where's the fun?” he asks, and this time he is the one who pushes Cas's car.

“Safety first.”

They're teasing with each other for the rest of the time on the car trace. Later, they play a few games, and Dean even wins a teddy bear for Cas.

They also stop to eat some junk food - hot dogs, popcorn, cotton candy and peanut brittle. Cotton candy seems to be Cas favorite, even if it's just a sugar.

After their stomaches are full, they're going to the small roller coaster, which maybe isn't the best idea, but Dean hopes none of them is going to vomit. They take seats close to each other. Dean feels Cas scent, this time it's a little different from usual, more sweet. Dammit, it shouldn't be like this. Cas shouldn't smell so nice, and Dean definitely shouldn't smell him. It's not a freakin' flower! Not that Dean would smell a flower either.

And when they're riding the Ferris Wheel, he closes his eyes, just to focus on this smell. During the steep downhill, Cas grabs Dean's elbow without a word and doesn't let it go till the end of the ride.

“That was a little more scary than I thought,” he says. And Dean just chuckles because somehow it's adorable.

*

“Thank you, Dean. It was a wonderful day. I don't think I've ever had so much fun,” says Cas in the evening. They were almost everywhere that day.

“I'm glad you like it. We could do this more often, you know, there's a lot of places which you should to know. Movie theater, bowling club, ice rink, zoo... I'm convinced you're gonna love the last one.”

“And you'll go there, to all these places, with me?”

“Sure.”

Cas smiles, and Dean feels something warm in his heart.

“So, I would love to go there with you.”

They're staring at each other a little longer, before Dean clears his throat. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Umm... There's also one more thing which people do on dates.”

“What thing?”

“It's, you know...” he begins, and not finish a thought again. Cas frowns, but a moment later he realizes what he means.

“Oh. You mean kissing? Like in the movie?”

“Yeah...” Dean feels how his cheeks turn pink. “And if you want...”

Cas interrupts him. “Dean, you said it was friends date. You don't need to feel obligated and do anything against your will.”

“I know. I know, Cas.” He nods. It was obvious Cas wouldn't like to kiss him. “I just thought you'd like to experience it too... But you're right, we're friends, you should find someone special.”

Cas' hand finds Dean's left shoulder.

“You are special to me, Dean. You'll always be special...” he whispers and makes one step closer. Their noses are almost touching. Dean touches Cas' cheek and brushes his lips with his thumb.

“So, can I?” he asks.

“Only if you mean it...”

Cas tastes like cotton candy and popcorn, more sweet than Dean expected and better than he ever wished for. They're kissing in the moonlight, and everything is perfect. The date couldn't end any better.

They pull away, resting their foreheads on each other.

“We haven't checked Tunnel of Love yet... Can we go there now on the proper date?” asks Cas and gives him a hand. Dean takes it and squeezes.

“After you.”

They're going together, holding hands and brushing their arms. And it's definitely not just a friendly date.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Alpha and Omega - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Sam x Dean Rating: 18+ Tags: A/B/O, Darkness magic,  Alpha!Dean, Omega!Sam, Dub-Con (biological necessity), little bit of meta (cuz why not), Sam’s a needy mess, Dean is possessive af  Word Count: 4k Created for: @first-time-wincest-fest​ - 12x02 Mamma Mia | @spnabobingo​ - Male Omega | Summary: Amara wants to thank Dean by giving him the thing he needs most – Sam – but she knows the boys are stubborn, so she’s going to have to be creative. Problem is, she doesn’t tell Dean or Sam what she’s put in motion, and magic can be unpredictable.

Despite the many apparent flaws of these British Men of Letters dicks, at least Mick has the good sense to let Dean and Sam go. He offers to try helping Sam, but he doesn’t have any more ideas about his condition than that blonde bitch does, so Dean declines and gets Sam the hell out of dodge.

The moment they make it over the property line and past the efficacy of the anti-angel warding Cas is by their sides, sliding under Sam’s other arm to help Dean carry him to the Impala.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growls, startling Cas and himself. Cas raises his hands in a show of good faith.

“I am just trying to help, Dean,” he reassures the hunter, lowly.

“Yeah, um, sorry man,” Dean shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching Sam right now but he doesn’t want anyone’s hands on his baby brother. Begrudgingly, he lets Castiel grab Sam’s arm and help them to the car, where they gingerly lay a shivering, and for all intents and purposes unconscious, Sam on the back seat. “Cas, what’s wrong with him?” Dean tries to keep a grip on the panic in his voice but he doesn’t have much luck.

“It’s hard to be sure,” Castiel mutters, laying a hand against Sam’s forehead, which is burning hot. “We need to get him home immediately, this fever is dangerously high.”

Dean rounds the car to root through the first aid pack in the trunk, pulling out a few instant cold packs. “Here,” he cracks one up in his hands and passes it to Cas. “Get in back, try to keep him cool.” Cas slides into the back seat of the Impala, pulling Sam over his lap and pressing the cold pack against the young man’s forehead. Dean drops the spare cold packs beside him as he jumps in behind the wheel and peels out of the dirt road driveway in reverse, gunning them back home towards Kansas.

The use of cold packs and bags of ice they picked up at gas stations along their way get the trio home without Sam’s condition worsening. Dean would send up a thank you to Chuck for that except that he’s nearly positive Chuck’s sister is the reason Sam is in this mess in the first place. I thought she wanted to do something to thank me, not destroy my life. They get Sam into bed without too much trouble, and Castiel suggests stripping Sam out of his clothes to help keep him cool.

“Get away from him,” Dean growls, baring his teeth at his friend. Castiel once again looks at him in confusion, his brow crinkling as he stares hard at Dean.

“I’m going to call Rowena, see if maybe she can help us determine what is wrong with Sam.” Cas backs up cautiously, and Dean is glad to see him go.

Once he’s alone with his brother, he does think that stripping Sam down is a decent idea – at the very least he should change him into some clean pyjamas instead of the bloodied tatters he’s dressed in now. Dean sits on the edge of the bed, gently brushing Sam’s hair away from his eyes. He has the sudden urge to lean down and kiss Sam, so he does – very carefully placing his lips against his little brother’s forehead. It seems to Dean like Sam presses back into the kiss, and when his lips retreat, Sam stretches his neck and turns his head into Dean’s side, almost like he’s burrowing there. The unconscious display of affection brings a surge of warmth to Dean’s chest, though he can’t find it in him to smile with Sam like this.

Gingerly, Dean unbuttons Sam’s shirt and eases it over his shoulders, his fingers tracing over Sam’s muscles on the way down each arm. He hadn’t spent too much time around Sam’s unclothed chest recently and he couldn’t help staring at the contours of his frame. Sometimes he spends so much time thinking about Sam as his little brother, he forgets how much he’d built himself up over the years, forgets about the strength that all those layers of shirts they wear everyday are hiding. Dean has to shake himself in chastisement for staring at Sam’s body and lusting after it like a creep when he’s supposed to be taking care of him. How could he be thinking with his dick, even now, when Sam is deathly ill? But he was thinking with his dick, because even seeing Sam half naked for a matter of thirty seconds seems to be enough to give him a semi. For fuck’s sake, Dean curses himself, and sets about the task of easing Sam out of his torn up jeans.

As he gets Sam’s abnormally long jeans off his abnormally long body, three things strike Dean as odd. The first, that the smell he’d overwhelmingly associated with Sam back at the farmhouse in Missouri all of the sudden permeates the air around him. Sure, he’d been smelling it this whole time – it had been almost unbearably strong on the 6 hour drive back to Kansas – but he figured he must have gotten used to it because it had sort of faded into the background until just now. Secondly, the way Sam’s legs were splayed out across the bed right now gave Dean a view of a dark wet patch on the light grey of Sam’s underwear – gross, Dean thinks to himself, until he realises that the stain isn’t on the front of Sam’s briefs like it would be if he’d pissed himself. That examination leads him to his third odd discovery, which is that Sam has a boner.

“Well, what have we here?” Dean spins to see Rowena standing in the doorway, smirking.

“I’m sorry, Sam’s turned into a what?” Dean blinks incredulously at Rowena, who’s perching on the edge of the table in the kitchen. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who is sitting stoically behind Rowena. The angel shrugs unhelpfully.

“An Omega, dearie,” Rowena enunciates more clearly, like she imagines she’s talking to a four year old.

“Right,” Dean nods, although he doesn’t really understand. “And I’m a–”

“An Alpha, yes,” Rowena reiterates, clearly annoyed Dean isn’t getting this. “Well, Sam’s Alpha, more specifically,” she amends.

“And what exactly does all this mean?” Dean grunts, frustrated.

“It means that you and Samuel are mates,” Rowena elaborates.

“We know that, we saw our shared heaven, like a decade ago. What the hell does it have to do with him being sick?”

“Samuel is sick because he’s an Omega in heat, and he needs his mate.”

“Well if I’m his ‘mate’ and he ‘needs me’ – I’m right here! So why isn’t he better?” Dean growls.

“I believe,” Cas clears his throat, “from what I understand of the traditional elements of this condition, that what Rowena means is that Sam needs you, as his mate, physically.” Cas looks sheepishly at Rowena for confirmation.

“Precisely,” she smiles thankfully at Castiel.

“Physically?” Dean’s not any closer to understanding what’s happening. “So what, I need to go hold his hand until his fever breaks?”

“Well, I’m not surprised that you might want to hold his hand, but it’s going to take a wee bit more than that.”

“Will you just tell me how the hell to cure him?” Dean shouts, accidentally shattering the beer bottle he’s holding. He looks down, surprised at his own strength and at the end of his tether now.

“Sexual intercourse,” Cas answers shortly, his face carefully blank. “Though, again, from my understanding, that will only cure his heat. He will remain an Omega and you will remain an Alpha.”

“What the hell are you talking about ‘from what you understand’?” Dean makes indignant air quotes at Cas.

“When Metatron put all of popular culture into my head it included every story ever written. There are a large number of stories on the internet that incorporate the dynamics of the Alpha/Omega hierarchy. It’s a trope primarily found in something called ‘fanfiction’,” Cas explains. “In fact, there is some ‘fanfiction’ about yourself and Sam if it would help you to understand the mating requirements.” Dean feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Cas, listen to me very carefully: under no circumstances are you to ever tell anyone else that those exist,” Dean groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why is this happening?”

“That’s the part I’ve not got the faintest idea about,” Rowena sighs. “It would take something more than a simple spell to alter your anatomies like this. Not even an angel,” she glances at Castiel quickly to check she’s right in her assumption. “I’ve never heard of something like this actually happening outside of fiction.”

“It was Amara,” Dean sighs. “When she left she told me she was going to give me what I ‘needed most’, but I don’t know why she thought this was it. It just seems like some sick joke.”

“Ah,” Rowena nods sagely like she understands now. “She was giving you Samuel.”

“How is this ‘giving me’ Sam?”

“A physically bonded Alpha and Omega are bonded for life, inseparable. Without the other, they won’t survive their heats – or ruts, in your case.”

“So every time Sam goes into a heat, we need to have sex, or he dies?” Dean can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“You’ll also need to knot him,” Cas adds gravely. Noticing Dean’s look of incredulity, he continues. “The base of your penis will inflate when you ejaculate and lock you and Sam together for a brief time. It’s the knot that Sam needs to relieve the symptoms of his heat.”

“What the fuck?” Dean blanches.

“Not to importune but I do believe Samuel was running out of time when I examined him. You really should get to it, Dean,” Rowena cuts in.

“And how am I supposed to do that, huh? The guy’s unconscious! I can’t just–” Dean’s stomach roiled. The thought of fucking Sam was tempting, amazingly so, but the thought of doing it to Sam, without his knowledge or participation, was sickening.

“I can make him a wee draft to revive him and stave off the fever,” Rowena moves towards one of the cupboards in the kitchen where Sam keeps the common spell ingredients. “Then Castiel and I can make ourselves scarce and leave you two to it,” she smiles.

“And you’re positive this is the only way?” Dean presses desperately.

“That Amara is a crafty woman, she knew what she was doing.” Rowena throws some herbs into a small dish. “She saw that you would never ‘put the moves on Sam’, as you say. This is her way of giving you both that little push.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a bitch,” Dean grumbles, dropping his head in his hands and waiting for Rowena to finish the potion to wake Sam up.

Sam blinks awake wearily, vaguely aware that he’s safe and not being held captive anymore, but he can’t remember much more than snippets of sound and scent. The rumble of an engine, the smell of motor oil; the low tenor of Dean’s voice, and the scent of whiskey, apple pie, and old leather. He can make out all of those scents now, too, swirling around him and pulling him back into consciousness – like smelling salts.

“Hey, there he is,” Dean’s voice says nearby, he’s sitting on the side of Sam’s bed.

Sam nuzzles towards his older brother, inexplicably craving the closeness. “De,” Sam mumbles, still sleepy.

“Yeah, it’s me Sammy,” Dean smiles down at him gently, eyes soft. Sam feels an unusual rush of need wash over him like a heat wave and he presses himself as close to Dean as two bodies can possibly get with a blanket still in between them.

“Wha s’happening?” he grumbles into Dean’s chest, looping his long arms around his brother’s waist.

“Short version?” Dean scoffs, but not unkindly. “Listen man, I’ll explain everything, I promise but – right now I just need to make sure you get outta this in one piece,” Dean sighs, drawing his hand down Sam’s face and holding his cheek. Sam looks up at Dean quizzically, unused to the level of physical affection but finding he was in desperate want of more. He nods at his big brother – whatever’s wrong, he knows Dean will take care of him. “You trust me Sammy?” Dean’s voice is hoarse, and Sam realises he’s scared.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam breathes quietly into the slowly decreasing space between them. “Course I do,” he confirms again.

“Alright then,” Dean gulps and nods, mostly to himself though, like he’s trying to psych himself up for something. Then without any further warning, Dean’s lips are covering Sam’s and pressing him down onto the bed.

The fire that had been smouldering inside Sam for days now leaps and dances, as if Dean’s kiss is gasoline being thrown across him. Sam clings to Dean as he’s laid back onto the bed, and lets Dean climb into his lap and bury his hands in Sam’s hair. Dean licks across the seam of his lips and Sam parts them willingly, drinking in every bit of Dean that is being offered to him. He can’t remember why he needs Dean like this so badly, or when he started needing him, but now that he has him he couldn’t care less. He knows with certainty that the only thing he needs to be happy for the rest of his life is Dean – Dean loving him, Dean kissing him, Dean inside him. Fuck, he needs Dean inside him right fucking now.

At this realisation, Sam starts tearing into Dean’s clothes, ripping through the thread keeping buttons in their places without a thought. He expects Dean to start doing the same to him, but then realises he’s not wearing anything but his underwear, which suits Sam just fine. Dean has to pull away from him to wriggle out of his jeans, and Sam groans involuntarily at the sight of the bulge Dean reveals when he strips down.

“Someone likes the view, huh?” Dean teases him, voice deep and throaty, but Sam’s too far gone to come up with a bratty retort. All he can focus on is that he wants Dean’s cock – now.

“Shit, you look so big De,” Sam groans, reaching out a hand to cup around Dean’s member, still hidden behind black cotton. The front of the material is wet with precum, Sam can feel it against his fingertips.

“Think you can handle me, little bro?” Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and drags his fingers along the outline of his cock, up to the elastic waist of his boxers, and then inside them. Sam’s fingers curl around Dean and stroke him gently beneath the fabric. “Think you can fit all that inside your tight little ass f’me?” he grunts, thrusting into Sam’s grip.

“Fuck yes,” Sam rasps, and his breath sounds like it’s raking over hot coals in his throat. He pulls back from Dean to shed his own underwear, staring at it puzzledly when it comes away from his body covered in slick. What is that, he wonders as he feels it on his fingers. It doesn't feel like lube… “Dean?” Sam looks to his brother for answers.

“S’okay,” Dean rushes to reassure him, joining his little brother on the bed, both of them now completely bared to the other. “I’ll explain later, yeah? Just let me take care of you right now, okay?” Dean’s eyes are wide and pleading as he looks to Sam, and Sam nods; he trusts Dean. “Just lemme take care a’you,” Dean whispers again as he brushes their lips together, and Sam pulls him in tight for another bruising kiss.

Their bodies twist and tangle easily, Sam just letting Dean put them together however he wanted. The heat of Dean against him is overwhelming, the sweat on their skin mingles and sticks them together, pulling at their nerves every time they part. Sam doesn’t want them to part. He reaches between them, grabbing Dean’s cock in his hand and thrusts his own into the same grip. Their moans ring through each others’ mouths as Sam jerks them against each other, and they take turns fucking into his fist. Before long Dean pulls away from Sam with a groan, probably to stop himself from finishing before he’s had a chance to see what the inside of his brother feels like. Sam is glad of his consideration in this case, because if he ends tonight without Dean locked firmly inside of him, he’s going to feel like he’s missing out. If he was more clear headed, he might question why the phrase ‘locked inside of him’ is the one that came to mind but he’s not thinking too deeply about what he wants right now — he just wants.

“Need you, Dean,” Sam pants, widely, grabbing at Dean, trying to bring their bodies back together. “Need… ne—” Sam’s vocabulary has become shockingly singular, and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be irritated with his brother when Dean smiles down at him smugly, knowingly.

“I know what you need, Sammy” Dean grins down at his little brother. Having Sam this strung out and desperate for him is like a drug. I could get used to this being a monthly thing, he smirks to himself, reaching his hand down between Sam’s legs and rubbing at his slick entrance. “Need me right here, dontcha Sammy? I can feel how much you need me,” Dean groans as the tip of his finger slips inside of Sam too easily, “fuck, you’re wet. So fucking wet for me, huh Sammy?”

Sam just nods blissfully down at Dean; it seems his vocabulary of one word has now receded to zero.

Cas had warned him about this, that as an Omega, Sam would start leaking like a fire hydrant, but at least it saved him having to hunt around for some kind of lube — he’d never needed to have that on hand before, and if he found any lying around the bunker there’s a decent chance it would be cursed or something. Plus, he bet this made the whole experience way better for Sam, so he was all for it. Dean moves between Sam’s legs and runs the head of his cock over Sam’s twitching entrance. Sammy lets out a weak moan and arches against the pressure, trying to get Dean to slip inside. Dean’s about to oblige when he remembers what Cas said about them getting locked together by the Alpha’s knot once he comes, and he thinks better of their position. It will be easier to roll on to their sides and rest if he does this with Sam on his hands and knees.

He manhandles Sam into position, rolling him over, and when Sam gets the idea and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, arching his back and presenting himself to Dean like some kind of trophy, Dean can’t hold himself back any longer. He pushes his cock inside Sam slowly, agonisingly and torturously slowly. Not because he’s concerned about hurting Sam, who is opening up beneath him like he was born for this — born to take Dean’s cock — but because he knows he wants to savour this moment for the rest of his life. He wants to remember every second of the first time he felt what it was like to truly possess Sam, to be joined so completely to one another that not even their bodies can keep them separate. So Dean goes slow, even though Sam is begging beneath him, asking him to just fuck him already, Dean ignores him, and he drinks the feelings in.

When he’s got himself bottomed out inside of Sam he leans down over his brother and presses a kiss to his shoulder, tenderly, thanking him for what he’s giving Dean right now. “You feel so good Sammy,” Dean moans, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as sappy as it does but it’s hard to regulate things like that when you feel like you’ve just connected to your soulmate for the first time, so he gives himself a pass.

The next time Sam begs, Dean gives in, snapping his hips back and fucking into him as hard as he can manage. And once he’s started he can’t stop. Every instinct inside of Dean is shouting at him to take, to fuck Sam into the mattress and never let up, which Sam doesn’t seem to mind, because no matter how roughly Dean thrusts into him he keeps shouting for more, faster, harder, please. So Dean, ever the good big brother, gives Sammy what he needs — what they both need.

Dean can feel himself getting closer and closer to his release, and that’s when he notices that he can’t quite pull out as far as before. His knot has begun swelling at the base of his cock, getting ready to pop and bind him and Sam together. The fattening edges catching on Sam’s rim give Dean a kind of friction no sex ever has before and, fucking hell, it feels unbelievably good. He grinds himself harder against Sam, dropping over his back so they can be as close as possible, and bringing his hand up beneath Sam to grasp at his little brother’s dick. It’s the first time he’s properly touched it, felt it in his hand, and shit, it feels even bigger than it looks.

“Oh my god, Dean,” Sam groans, sounding absolutely wrecked, and Dean takes that as a compliment. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, please,” Sam is pleading with him so prettily, and Dean wants to cum just as badly as him.

“Not stopping Sammy,” Dean strokes him faster, grinds into him harder, “not stopping until you cum all over my hand baby boy, so c’mon, want you to cum f’me.” Dean thanks God that Sam starts to cum loudly when Dean tells him too, because the second he feels Sam start to convulse around him his knot pops and he’s cumming harder than he ever has in his life. The thought of his seed whitewashing Sam’s insides is sickeningly thrilling and he swears a second, small orgasm rocks through him — and hey, if that’s a perk of being an Alpha, I could get used to this.

When Dean comes back to himself, his breathing finally evening out, he notices Sam slumped beneath him, no longer holding himself up. He quickly checks for a pulse, and relaxes when he finds one – Sam’s just passed out. Fuck, he came so hard he passed out. Dean shudders, feeling another small blurt of cum force itself out of his cock at the thought that he’d fucked Sam so thoroughly. To be honest he was a little proud of himself.

Dean arranges himself on his side on the bed, so he can curl around Sam while he waits for his knot to deflate. He thought he’d be annoyed by having to stay still like this for so long but it’s surprisingly peaceful, laying here with Sam asleep in his arms. He hugs his little brother tighter to him, clasping his hands over Sam’s chest – over his heart – feels the rhythm and reassures himself that Sam is here, and alive, and safe. And his. The realisation hits Dean unexpectedly. Sam is finally his in the most permanent way he can think of, and his heart leaps at the thought. The last thing he thinks before he drops off to sleep too, is that he hopes Sam still wants to be his when he wakes up.

Tags: @vulgar-library​ @tintentrinkerin​ @negans-lucille-tblr​ @fandomfic-galore​ @petitgateau911​ @whoreforackles-deactivated20210​ @schaefchenherde​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @little-diable​ @laxe-chester67​ @kassyscarlett​ @akshi8278 @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @stoneyggirl 

[riddleblack246]

For @scoobydean and @destielsecretsanta2020

“This could be nice for Jack.”

“’My First Christmas’. Cas, this is meant for babies.”

“It’s still his first Christmas with us.”

“That mean we should get one for you too?”

“If you’d like.”

Read below for some Team Free Will 3.0 holiday head canons~!

After everything goes down with Jack makes use of his new abilities, Sam and Dean are much more willing to fight to keep him with them. He initially wonders if it is because he’s “useful” to them now. The brothers promptly inform him that no, it’s because this is the first time where they can all feel safe enough to take a breath. Sure, they’re still hunters. But after everything they’ve been through, they all deserve a chance to enjoy life without constantly looking over their shoulders. And so Jack stays.

As promised, he brought back those that were loved and lost. Obviously everyone is relieved and thankful, but that is most clearly seen in the return of Eileen and Castiel. Sam and Eileen are quick to pick up where they left off. Castiel, however, is a bit more hesitant. He didn’t expect to ever see Dean again. He truly thought he wouldn’t have to know Dean’s feelings and when he confessed, he felt he could live with that. But now he’s suddenly back in this world, aware of his existence and the knowledge that he told the man he’d been in love with for over a decade how he felt. But Dean doesn’t allow him to panic for long. Enveloping Cas in his arms, he’s squeezing the angel’s vessel so tightly that he can barely get out the words. Nonetheless, he does and finally returns the sentiment that Castiel never expected to hear.

“I love you too, Cas.”

And now to dig into holiday centric joys!

By the time Christmas rolls around, the bunker’s primary couples have developed a sense of routine. Eileen has finally moved in and Dean and Castiel have eased into a comfortable romantic domesticity. And for the first time in a while, there are no hunts to investigate or major threats to take on, and the Winchesters found themselves able to celebrate the holidays in a way that they hadn’t had a chance to in some time (save for the Mrs. Butters stint).

On the first of December, Dean sits down in the library and begins to make a list, trying to figure out exactly what was expected of a traditional Christmas. When Sam catches him, he expects scoffs of disagreement or just bored indifference. Instead, he supplies the idea of inviting some people to the bunker.

“What, Sammy? You want to throw a Christmas rager?” (The statement does earn him an eye roll)

“No. I just thought it might be nice. See everyone together.”

Neither of them explicitly say why it would be nice, but they know the relief that would come with seeing each person they never expected to see again. Dean tasks his brother with making a guest list and sending out an e-mail to those on it (because Dean draws the line at trying to make actual invitations).

The response is overwhelmingly positive and soon enough, they’re fielding constant texts from Garth, asking if it would be okay to bring his kids, and e-mails from Donna, offering to bake a multitude of requested holiday treats. 

Amidst holiday planning, the group allows themselves to give into expectations of the season. Jack and Castiel are largely in the dark of what is or isn’t part of the holidays and while Dean, Sam, and Eileen aren’t the most immersed, they do have an idea of what is to be done and are admittedly eager to dive in.

One of the first things on Dean’s list is to decorate a tree. He even insists on cutting one down himself, as aside from various times he had to cut and sharpen his own stakes, it’s something he’s never had a chance to do. Sam, reluctant to join him, tells his brother to have fun. In the spirit of “giving”, Dean bring Cas and Jack along, assuring Sam and Eileen that they’ll “be a while ;)”. They return some hours later with a tree that rivals the Rockefeller Center and relief in the fact that they have two celestial beings to transport something of that size. Decorating it is another story.

After digging through the bunker and finding that, no, the Men of Letters did not hoard Christmas ornaments or wreaths or any such things among their piles of artifacts and cursed objects, the groups decides to get a little shopping done. They initially hit a big box store for a bunch of basics - lights, tinsel, various colored balls (Dean makes several jokes about this), but as the month goes on, all of them are guilty of picking up random items to decorate with while out.

Eileen delightedly shows her boys a Christmas pyramid she bought and is quick to tell Jack that he can’t light it whenever he wants, as forgetting about it could result in burning down the bunker.

Sam buys all of them advent calendars, each dedicated specifically to every member of the bunker. Dean doesn’t comment on Sam’s shift toward the holiday spirit, not only because he’s happy that his brother has allowed himself to be more joyfully invested in things, but also because every day for the month he gets to appreciate a new and weird specialty bottle of hot sauce. Sam’s own contains different types of tea, Eileen’s has jam, Jack’s has little LEGO figures, and Castiel’s has coffee.

Jack nearly gives Dean a heart attack one morning when the man wakes up to find a nutcracker as tall as he is in the crow’s nest. Jack tells him all about finding it in a shop he and Castiel passed when getting supplies and insisting that it was a perfect thing to have for the bunker. Dean looks to Castiel and knows the angel would have been too soft to say no. Then again, he knows he would have been just as guilty.

Castiel begins buying ornaments for people in the bunker. Even with Dean teasing him about it, he does buy a “my first Christmas” ornament and puts a photo of Jack inside that Eileen helped him print out. He finds that he is particularly fond of ornaments that contain photos and begins to buy ones for that explicit purpose.

Dean doesn’t necessarily have a type of decoration that he finds himself buying outside of what they have, but he is fond of the lights. He usually insists they stay on as long as allotted, urging whoever is the last to go to bed to turn them off (though it’s usually himself).

When it does snow, Dean is eventually irritable about it with Sam and Eileen in a similar boat, though to a lesser degree. Shoveling snow out of the way of the bunker’s entrance is a pain in the ass and none of them love the chore of getting treads on their respective tires. But seeing Jack’s fascination with it - and realizing that it’s his first time encountering snow, they find themselves softening.

After getting help in clearing access to the bunker, the group spends much of the day outside. There is an unspoken agreement that they want Jack to experience all the great enjoyments of snow and it honestly brings out the kid in them too. They build a mediocre snowman (Sam takes the heat for his poor artistic skills), make snow angels (the jokes about Castiel doing so get old within five minutes), have a snowball fight (Eileen is fucking ruthless and not above putting snow down jackets), and creating makeshift sleds to race. The sledding is what ultimately makes them go back inside. Garbage can lids are hard to steer and after Dean eats it by running into a tree and loosing a tooth, even Cas fixing it doesn’t resolve the choice to go in. Nonetheless, the accident doesn’t stall the mood, as Dean insists on introducing Jack to one more awesome component of the Traditional Snow Day - the hot chocolate at the end. Said hot cocoa almost results in a fight when, after Dean makes enough for all of them, Castiel reluctantly admits that he doesn’t care for it, and Dean and Jack nearly come to childish blows over who gets his mug. Later that evening, Castiel makes sure to thank Dean privately for allowing Jack to have it. ;)

Now, when it comes to cooking, Dean likes to consider himself pretty well-versed. Baking is another story. The preciseness that’s required is what gets him. Sure, he can be meticulous, but he’s always been more of a “little of this, a bunch of that” kind of guy over exact measurements, which leaves a lot more room for error when it comes to baking. But after going on a “Gilmore Girls” binge with Castiel (the couple constantly debates the superior show of the former and “Dr. Sexy, M.D.”), he can’t help imagining a scene of tenderly showing Cas how to roll out dough and mussing some flour in his hair and watching the angel lick the spoon in a way that borders on pornographic. The day after watching, he’s searching for cookie recipes and telling Castiel to dig out some aprons.

As is the Winchester way, this expectation does not come to fruition. Cas, as he thought, didn’t know a thing about cooking or baking. But Dean pictured being able to guide him, to do all the romantic shit you see in Hallmark movies. Instead, the angel is complaining about not being able to just will the baked goods into existence, standing in the way when Dean needs to get any kind of ingredient, and getting flour on every fucking surface in the kitchen. Things reach a boiling point when Cas pulls the cookies out of the oven, sans oven mitts, and for a brief moment, Dean’s brain operates on a panic reflex and snatches the tray from his hands. The result is their hours of baking scattered all over the floor, a dented baking sheet, and second-degree burns on the hunter’s hands. He’s huffing and cursing and he fully expects Cas to scold him and point out the obvious fact that he’s an angel and such temperatures have no effect on him. But instead, he watched Castiel pulled his hands from the faucet (having immediately shoved them under there after he burned himself) and tenderly brushes his finger tips over the wounds. Dean feels the familiar sensation of healing flesh, something he hasn’t felt in a bit and he’s silent as Cas brings the newly healed skin to his lips and presses a kiss to his palms. The irritability baking had brought them is gone. Dean lets Cas wave the kitchen clean and they decide to just go out and buy Christmas cookies instead. Later that evening, Cas’ lips taste like ginger and Dean finds that the reality is way better than the fantasy.

They ultimately end up hosting the party that started their shift into the Christmas spirit a few days before the actual holiday. After all, they know most of their friends prefer flying over driving and it might be a lot to ask them to come out on the actual holiday. But their concerns of traffic and irritated guests soon fly out the window in the face of so many familiar… well, faces. Hugs never stop coming and despite everyone’s claim that gifts would not be necessary, everyone knows that’s bullshit and a pile beneath their ridiculous tree grows with every teasing comment and expression of happy holidays.

Speaking of the tree, Castiel is quite pleased with his holiday crafting and the other members of the bunker share that sentiment. Since the angel discovered the photo-insert ornaments, he had taken it upon himself to spend random periods during the month finding photographs of each important person in their lives that he could and putting them into such items. Everyone takes joy in searching for their own picture. Claire comments that he picked a terrible one of her, but Cas hears her quietly asking Dean if she could take it home with her, as it features her and Kaia pressed close in a hug. Charlie adores her’s and insists that she wants to make the same craft, but only if they do it together. Everyone quietly appreciates the ones made for those that aren’t present to appreciate them. Jack ensures that Mary’s ornament has prime placement. Eileen hugs Sam when she catches him looking at Kevin’s for a while. Dean makes a point to kiss Castiel privately after finding Bobby’s nestled among some tinsel. Everyone agrees that their the best decorations in the place.

Hunters and those that know them have never been known to operate on a normal schedule, so it is nearly three in the morning before the bunker clears out. Some have elected to drive home if the trip was relatively easy. Others have settled into the many spare rooms that the bunker holds. Once all the gifts have been opened, the eggnog’s been drunk, and everyone has eaten their weight in treats, only Dean and Cas remain in the quiet bunker. They sit together in the library, positioned on one of the many extended seats they’d brought out to fit their guests. The lights of the enormous tree are still on at Dean’s request and Castiel can’t help staring at the way the different colors still look so beautiful on him. He glances up at the other decorations strewn about. The bows, the poinsettias (Garth had brought something like ten of them), the holly, the- He spots a familiar item of decor. He’d seen Sam and Eileen equally position themselves under it in wait of their partner, always stopping them with the insistence that a kiss must be administered before they continue on their way about the bunker. Lazily, he nudges Dean and points to the archways between the crow’s nest and the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

“Is standing beneath that a requirement for kissing?”

Dean follows his finger and huff out a laugh. Even though they hadn’t been dating long, they’d been together for so many years that he knows the angel is teasing. He turns to meet his eyes, smiling at the way the lights almost change them from blue to a rainbow of color.

“What, you want to kiss under the mistletoe? Now?”

For a moment, it seems as if he’s considering the offer. But instead, he shakes his head and reaches a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek. He knows that he could have kiss Dean under there the same way Eileen and Sam do. But he knows they’re different. Dean is a lot of thing and as much as he would deny it, one of those things is private. Their relationship is simultaneously new and so so ingrained into their life. Affection was always something there, just beneath the surface. And while he had the thing he desired for so long, that doesn’t mean he feels the need to push Dean into a realm of affection that just isn’t fitting of who they are together. Leaning forward, he captures Dean’s lips in a kiss. He tastes like eggnog and candy cane.

Castiel understands all the more that happiness is in the being. And he no longer fears his joy. Because he can’t imagine being happier than holding Dean beneath these lights and knowing that they still have tomorrow and so many days to come. There is no better present than that.