#trans kevin au

[willowbird]

for the fic prompt any trans Andrew thoughts? Or trans Neil or trans andreil lol dealers choice

DID SOMEONE SAY TRANSDREIL!?

But I would like to raise you... trans!Kevin. Because it has been STUCK in my HEAD for MONTHS now.

---

The knock on the door was heavy but sluggish - more of a crash or a thump than a knock at all. At first, David thought that it was some dumb kid being a jackass (even 5 star hotels had shitty guests), but then it came again. And again. And again.

Then, as David sighed and begrudgingly rolled off his bed to go to the door, he heard a thin, rough voice call through it: "Please... I don't know where else to go..."

David picked up his pace. He did not know what he expected when he jerked the door open, but the teenager standing there was not it - especially not in the state that they were in.

"What the actual fuck, Kaitlyn?

Kaitlyn Day, daughter of world-famous violinist Kayleigh Day and then adopted by Kayleigh's close friend Tetsuji Moriyama in the wake of her mother's death. David had known her for most of her life, albeit from a distance. He had been close with Kayleigh when they'd been younger, and although they'd had something of a falling out shortly before she became pregnant with Kaitlyn they had stayed in touch enough for him to have developed at relationship of sorts with her daughter.

Kaitlyn flinched away from him, actually stumbling backwards quickly enough that her shoulders hit the opposite wall.

"Shit," David cursed, stopping himself from rushing forward. Instead he lifted his hands in a steady, placating gesture and lowered his voice. "Fuck. I'm sorry kid. Don't worry I'm louder than I am mean, you know that. Come on." He stepped back into the room and held the door open for her, doing his best not to stare at the shadows under her eyes or the blood at the corner of her mouth, the bruises starting to form. David Wymack had seen his fair share bruised and battered kids, though, so maybe that was why it was almost more off-putting that, in addition to the physical trauma clearly on display, from the way she held herself to the blood and the bruises, her hair had been chopped off. It hung in uneven chunks around her face, and as she passed by him into the room David saw that there were some patches that had been so close to her scalp the blades had nicked the skin.

Swallowing his questions for the moment, David glanced quickly down the hall -- one way and then the other -- before shutting and locking the door. When he turned back around, Kaitlyn was standing clear on the opposite side of the room, hugging herself and chewing her thumbnail down to the quick.

David gave himself another twenty seconds to get his shit together, then he took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Kaitlyn, what the fuck happened?"

Even though his voice was calmer now, steady, she still flinched. David grit his teeth against the bubbling of anger that churned in the center of his body -- a vat of blistering, protective rage that was getting closer and closer to boiling over every time she shirked away from him. Perhaps he did not know Kaitlyn as well as he might have if he and Kayleigh had been better to each other, if they hadn't fallen out in the way that they had, but he didn't have to be in the girl's inner circle to know that this... this timid thing before him was not her.

Kaitlyn Day was a fucking thunderstorm in human form. As captivating as she was terrifying, she was a musical prodigy that had been performing in huge, prestigious venues since she was three years old, first on the piano, then on violin, then flute, before stunning the world yet again when she opened her mouth and started to sing. International cross-genre acclaim was achieved when she was only fifteen, after she and her adoptive brother Riko diverted from classical music in a bold move to form a pop band.

She was an idol, with adoring fans on every continent.

She was also, David was remembering very suddenly and with a sharpness that hurt, an eighteen year old kid. She was a wildfire, but she was not invulnerable, and someone had hurt her.

"Kaitlyn," he said again, and he lowered his voice even further. He made himself as small as he could, sinking down to sit on the coffee table that filled out the small sitting area of the hotel suite.

Again, Kaitlyn's shoulders hitched up and her face turned, her brown condensing into a sharp v of discontent. When David opened his mouth to speak again, though, to plea with her to tell him what the fuck was going on and to demand she point him in the direction of the sorry fuck who touched her, her eyes snapped up to his and he finally saw that it wasn't only fear, it wasn't only pain. Burning right beside whatever trauma she was wrestling with was a bright, effervescent rage.

He snapped his mouth shut.

"No," Kaitlyn said. Her voice was rough, raspy. She cleared her throat and held his gaze as she said more clearly, putting in visible effort to keep herself steady to lift up her chin when her instincts were still begging her to duck it.

"No," she said again. "Not... Not Kaitlyn."

David frowned, confused. "What?"

Then she said, "Kevin."

Still not understanding, David shook his head. "Kaitlyn, what? Who is Kevin?" A thought struck him and he had to curl his hands into fists on top of his thighs to keep from standing. "Is he who did this? Point me in his direction, Kaitlyn, and I swear I--"

"No!" This time, her voice cracked, and there was a desperation in her tone that had David pulling back. Her eyes were wide, every muscle in her body taut. She swallowed thickly around the words he could see her trying to say. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, then she grit her teeth and growled, "No. Me. I'm not Kaitlyn. I am Kevin. Kevin."

Tears, a phenomenon that David had never before witnessed with Kaitlyn and had only ever seen once from her mother, welled suddenly in the girls eyes. Her face was flushed, tinged pink around the hurts. With her hair a chopped mess and her eye visibly beginning to well, the tears added a raw sort of wildness that was so far apart from the rigid control Kaitlyn usually adhered to with zealous enthusiasm that he fleetingly wondered if he was instead talking to a different girl entirely. A long-lost twin.

He shook his head, or at least he went to -- but he aborted the gesture mid-motion as the inkling of understanding tugged at him. He studied her, letting her words turn the lights on one at a time until the pieces finished falling into place.

Then he said, "Kevin." A question, a confirmation.

Jade fire eyes held his own and there was so much weight in that single stare.

After a long, tense moment where David didn't think either of them so much as breathed, the bearer of those eyes gave a single slow nod.

David took in a slow breath and nodded as well. "Alright. Okay. That's... good. Kevin." Slowly, so Kevin didn't think David's motive was violence, David pushed himself to his feet and approached. He lifted one hand and reached out. When the kid didn't flinch away, David rested it on his shoulder.

"Kevin," David said again, and because he was still holding the boy's gaze he saw the moment when Kevin's resolve shattered. The tears he had been battling back broke the dam. His shoulders slumped. His knees trembled. When he stumbled, David was there to catch him and he pulled him easily into his arms. He didn't pretend not to hear the sobs that came next, absorbed by his chest the same way the tears made their new home in the fabric of his shirt.

No, instead he wrapped his arms around him, around Kevin. He rested one hand on the back of his neck and squeezed gently and he said, "Hey, it's alright. I've got you, son. It's alright. I've got you. I'm here."

[lukas-dusk]

imagined a AU where Dean leaves with Sam but he becomes a famous singer

And so it's just supernatural but

~

Family of the victims : Aren't you the famous singer Dean?

Dean pretending to be an FBI agent. : Nah just a lookalike

~

Monster : I WILL KILL YOU BOTH AND- ohmygod- are you.. Are you the Dean??

Dean : Hun? Oh yes I am.

Monster : Oh my god! Hi! I'm so fan of you!!!

Dean : Well I'm always delighted to meet a fan but... You're a monster and I'm going to have to kill you, so hum sorry?

Monster : Oh no don't worry, I totally understand, can you just like sign my body before you burn him?

Dean : Sure.

~

Sam Smirking : So, is there a reason why you've only been writing love songs since you came back from hell?

Dean :

Dean hiding his new love songs about Castiel : nO-

~

Dean After stealing Jo's gun : Not bad but you'll need more practice, I'm Dean by the way.

Jo has the second of the panic attack because she is talking to her Idol : yes?

~

Kevin : You're telling me that the famous rock star Dean kills monsters in he's free time?

Sam : Yeah.

Kevin : How does he even manage to do interviews and all the other stuff???

Sam : To be honest I have no idea.

~

Benny coming out of purgatory, and separates with his new friend just to see him on all the billboards in all the cities : Hun.

~

Crowley wearing a Dean fan t-shirt : Hi boys~

Dean : seriously?

Castiel : Can I have one?

~

Mary and Sam in the car listening to the radio

Sam : Oh, that's one of Dean's songs.

Mary : One of Dean's WHAT?!

~

I hope you liked it!

[jean-meowreau]

SocMed AU pt.8

some more memes/fucking around. Matt/Neil friendship is my bread n butter.

ft. bonus special T4T Besties Allison/Neil (& accidentally coming out)

[highwaystars]

who the fuck are you? i'm a brat when i'm bumpin' that

[nimblefoxes]

I promised more Supercatural so here it is! 🐱 I’m glad y’all are enjoying these as much as I am!

I’ve only seen up to Season 8, so I hope the choices make sense for the newer characters! I tried as good as I can without further spoiling myself (somehow) 🫢

[aftgficrec]

Hi!!! Do you have any recommendations for Kevin/Jeremy/Jean fics? Both more canon compliant ones or AUs are fine. Thanks!

I’m pleased to say there are some fabulous fics in our previous recs, and I found quite a lot more Kerejean for you here. - S

Previously recommended:

In the Light of Day here

‘when i kissed the teacher’, ‘Lap Sitting’ and ‘Spice the Eggnog Ch.8’ here

‘Daylight, Sunsets’ here

‘Belief’, ‘Our First Christmas’ and ‘Kerejean soulmate au’ here

‘Funeral Pyre’ here (updated)

‘Best of you’ here (updated)

‘To Be Certain We'll Be Tall Again’ here (completed)

‘Coming Home’ here

‘Enby Kevin/Kerejean Request’ here

text me (when you're home) by Anonymous [Rated T, 11007 words, incomplete, last updated Sept 2024]

After a summer of radio silence Jean finally reaches out to Kevin in form of a text. It goes from there. or a kevjerjean texting fic

'tis the damn season by footnotesforfoxes (y2beans) [Rated M, 7155 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2024]

BREAKING NEWS - Exy star Kevin Day suffers extreme knee injury! Will he ever play again? Kevin Day, Jean Moreau, and Jeremy Knox have never been able to leave each other alone. That is until five years ago when Kevin chose his future in Exy over making a life for himself with a couple. After a career-altering injury, he is forced to face the mistakes of his past and find that love that still waits for him.

tw: negative self image

So Dark the Hunger, So Sweet the Ruin by NikNak22 [Rated M, 7233 words, complete, 2024]

This is a story about a boy, a monster, and a curse. It is about a sun, a moon, and some stars. It is about longing, words unspoken, and scars that never heal. It is about things scuttling around in the dark that should never be seen. It is about wanting something so badly that you would sacrifice everything to keep it safe. Even from yourself. Aka in a world where Kevin doesn't have a soul mark, what is the point of him falling in love?

tw: depression, tw: self esteem issues, tw: negative self talk, tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt

Haunting Spirits by fullyvisible [Rated T, 13637 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024]

Kevin's life is going wonderfully until the fifth anniversary of Riko's death catches him by surprise, and he realizes his happiness--and his sobriety--may be more precariously balanced than he had thought. Kevin is desperate to keep it together well enough to prevent anyone from noticing, but Jean and Jeremy know him better than most.

tw: alcoholism, tw: ptsd

Because, Despite, Still by codename_adler [Rated T, 11047 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024, locked]

"No matter what Jeremy thought he knew, no matter his meticulous observations and incessant pleas for Kevin to come and fix Jean, Kevin could see plainly that perhaps he should not have trusted the USC Captain on that one. Every time you show up on TV or any of us talk about you, he shuts his eyes for a few seconds. Like… Like he’s looking for you, inside himself. There’s nothing… There’s nothing else I can give him. I swear to you Kevin, I would if I did. I’m well aware this is most certainly going to get uglier before it gets better, but that’s a knife I can’t remove myself. Only you, Kevin. Only you. Please come home to him."

tw: implied/referenced abuse 

NB: you can find a link to a playlist for this fic on the author’s tumblr post

The "Ex" Protocol by KweenDay [Rated M, 14151 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024, locked]

Jeremy has heard about Jean's high school boyfriend, Kevin, of course, but he's not jealous. He doesn't get jealous over exes. Except... he didn't know ex-Kevin was THE Kevin Day, Exy royalty extraordinaire. And no, he's still not jealous... or obsessed with him. So what if he keeps finding a way for the three of them to be in the same room time and again? It's for research! Obviously.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced cult membership

In The Middle by KweenDay [Rated E, 6894 words, complete, 2024, locked]

Jean has always looked at his life in two segments - the one when he loved Kevin Day and both, pleasure and pain, were inextricably linked; and the one when he loved Jeremy Knox and he learned that loving someone could come without the threat of pain looming over his head. But in the past few months, both of those segments are bleeding into each other. The shadows of the past mixing with his present, and Jean thinks maybe this is a whole new chapter. Something different. Something good.

tw: explicit sexual content

Break the Ice by noNic02 [Rated E, 25396 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2024]

Things are finally looking up for Jeremy Knox. He moved to a new city, he likes his university program, his roommates are great (mostly), and he started hooking up with one very attractive Jean Moreau. There's really only one problem - Jean's roommate hates him.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: scars, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Tell me where it hurts most by xxhearttommo [Rated T, 1828 words, complete, 2024]

Jeremy is on a date with his boyfriends when he answers a call from his mother and finds out his father has passed away. Jeremy is hurting. Jean and Kevin help him get himself together and go through a rough patch.

tw: death of a parent

suneater by REDRAGEOUSED [Not Rated, 11371 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2024]

Jeremy reaches over and messes with Kevin’s hair, nails scratching his scalp lightly, and he leans into it hard, barely noticing it when he turns to whisper to Jean that “they should probably get him home.” Then the car is starting and Jeremy’s hand pulls back and this time, this time Kevin holds back the whine, but he’s still feeling fucking ridiculous because what grown man enjoys being pet. Kevin is not built for this, he is not built for affection and soft touches, he is built to be hit and bruised and pushed to his limits so this is just all fucking wrong. kevin day is desperate and fucked up and everything wrong with the world. he's not sure how they haven't realized yet.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse 

through numb lips by REDRAGEOUSED [Not Rated, 2494 words, complete, 2024]

Kevin isn’t really sure why they’re whispering, but given the way he has to swallow, thick and heavy, to answer, he thinks it's probably for the best. He says “I think- I think I’m high.” He doesn’t know why he says it like that, but then Jean, vaguely somewhere up laughs, and he’s glad he did. kevin day gets high & gives the best blowjob of his life

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: recreational drug use

Lagom by NikNak22 [Rated E, 19399 words, complete, 2023]

When his kingdom falls, Prince Kevin Day is ripped from his golden cage and thrust into reality. With no skills to speak of and his title gone, he has to work long and hard to learn how to survive. It is only through the grace of his teachers (or captors or liberators, depending on how one looks at it) that he has succeeded, allowing him a kind of freedom and self-sufficiency he's never known. Together, Jeremy, Jean, and Kevin form a tenuous bond of loyalty and obligation, allowing them to co-exist peacefully. It is a partnership built on mutual understanding and respect. One with clear lines and boundaries. One that reminds Kevin daily of his place. Until one day, it all starts to unravel.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: self esteem issues

The Love We Unravel by fullyvisible [Rated T, 10049 words, complete, 2023]

Jeremy deserves a comfortable, safe life; Jean knows he can't give it to him - and neither can Kevin. But they don't consider whether Jeremy thinks they're a risk worth taking. Inspired by Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift.

Birthday Wishes by fullyvisible [Rated T, 2595 words, complete, 2023]

It's Jean's birthday, and he expects to spend it alone - which would be fine, if he hadn't gotten so used to spending his time with Jeremy and Kevin.

Beach Trip by fullyvisible [Rated T, 4592 words, complete, 2022]

When Jeremy finds out Kevin and Jean have never been to the beach, he decides to take them for a day in the sand, sun, and waves.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced scars

Optimiste by mitigates [Rated M, 28838 words, complete, 2022]

“Riko is- is dead. I am- I am- I am alive-” Jean sucked in a gasping breath that made his chest ache with the force of it. He gripped Kevin’s collar until his breaths calmed into a slow aftershock.  A soft gasp in the doorway revealed Jeremy’s presence. Jean turned on him, eyes flashing. He said the words harshly in French, “This does not concern you!” - or - Jean loses his memories after an accident. In his mind, he's barely survived Riko's last beating, Kevin left him alone at the Nest, and Jeremy is nothing more than a strange captain from another team.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: major character injury, tw: nightmares

can you show me how to make it true? by Flowerparrish [Rated E, 11071 words, complete, 2021, locked]

It’s not that Kevin and Jean don’t text. But one day, Kevin gets the text.

tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse

doomsday by erosandhades [Rated T, 4810 words, complete, 2021]

He remembered every drink Kevin had thrown at him, then the shots, then moving to the next party, then Jean. He remembered thinking “fuck it”. He remembered doing three more shots with Kevin and two with Jean. Now, he didn’t remember how he got there. Or that tweet "one time at a party i kissed someone's girlfriend and to make sure he wasn't mad about it i just kissed him too... i blacked out and woke up to a text in a groupchat with both of them that said "did you make it home safe baby? <3"' but make it Kerejean.

One, two princes kneel before you by moonqueerdom [Rated T, 10084 words, complete, 2021]

Once upon a time, on a cold, dark night in the Central Court of Arcane, the annual winter masked ball was held. Faeries danced majestically all over the place, for the song being played by a charming group of faeries was enchanted (more literally than not) and the folk wouldn't miss the opportunity to celebrate the solstice. The winter flowers were blooming inside the castle with all the magic bursting from the Land and from the folk, and snow was falling outside the transparent plasma-gloss walls. And, last but not least, two princes and a guard were about to meet among all those partying people. A fairy tale about three faeries who meet at a masquerade ball and accidentally start a new folklore. And they're a chaotic mess.

Ask me to kneel by moonqueerdom [Rated E, 15404 words, complete, 2020]

Jeremy Knox meets Jean Moreau and Kevin Day in a BDSM club after some time without seeing them and finds that they have quite a Dom/sub dynamic that interests him immediately

tw: explicit sexual content

Stuck With U by moonqueerdom [Rated M, 21198 words, complete, 2020]

Jeremy and Jean go to Denver and stay at Kevin's apartment, but then the quarantine starts and they are forced to spend much more time than they expected in the city. And at Kevin's apartment.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced suicide, tw: alcohol abuse

Art

cuddly kerejean by @ohsleepie on X

cold weather is better if you have two boyfriends to be your personal heaters🧡❤️💛 by @princesoleil29

highkey in love w them ? by @redrageoused

I’m supposed to be working but I needed everyone to see my vision by @thepriceofsurvival

Hockey is rotting my brain , but so is Kerejean  by @jeremy-knoxs-on-wood

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Imagine Regular Kevin's ghost was still around in s13 (mostly stabilised, handwave whatever) and Mary did succeed in getting Apocalypse World Kevin on-side and brought back to regular world. What would their relationship be like.

AU Kevin resenting Kevin for having everything that was stolen from him, Kevin being like hey fuck you it was stolen from me too, just later. AU Kevin getting his mom "back" but she's not his mom technically, she's regular world Linda Tran, some of their memories of his childhood conflict really hard and he gets a very complex grief for his AU mom who is still dead despite having the "same" mom here.

Mrs Tran suddenly having two kids when she'd only ever prepared for one, so their relationships have to shift to accommodate this.

Ghost Kevin resenting that AU Kevin can leave the bunker and is slotting into HIS life and able to get a real hug from HIS mom (which ghost Kevin can't because. He is a ghost). Ghost Kevin also having extreme compassion for AU Kevin bc he can picture how it would feel to be trapped like that (he is literally trapped right now!). Ghost Kevin teaching AU Kevin to play the cello....

Ghost Kevin trying to possess AU Kevin but getting blasted by how horrible he feels all the time on account of his devastating trauma.

Imagine this. and then create a fanwork about it. Please I need to think about the Kevins but I can only microwave them right now.

[susanoosama01]

AU Michael:

Lucifer: *flashbacks of the Cage and midam

Lucifer: Ah shit here we go again

[giganitus]

Sketched out a design for Amalgam Evelyn 1

I’m unsure if this is what I’ll go with fully but we’ll see

[sadbigemini]

A crack-y fic prompt but I want to read it so bad! I'd write it myself if I thought I could do it justice. Who knows maybe I'll try?? Anywho, let's get to it!

The Addams Family in a Modern Family AU

What I mean is the Addams family in modern times, being followed and documented by a camera crew

Y'know, like the Modern Family...

Obviously cousin It, Margaret, Fester can all be the extended family but maybe you can even make Addams OCs or crossovers if you can pull it off

Like making a character from another fandom an Addams. Such as, Dazai or the Akutagawas (BSD), pffft– Alastor or Lucifer and Charlie (Hazbin Hotel), Phil (Modern Family), Raven (Teen Titans), Mulder (X-Files), Aizawa (MHA), omg Kevin and Linda (SPN), or all of the above lmao

If you can do it go for it!

Also with the extended crossover family their own immediate family, partners, or even friends can be included. I.e. Chuuya for Dazai, Phil's family, the Teen Titans, Scully for Mulder, or Mic and/or Shinsou for Aizawa

Anywho, imagine interviews of Wednesday Addams. I feel like at the beginning she'd just stare at the camera man in silence. I could also see her strapping Pugsley into the electric chair in another lol

The camera is always cutting off bc Gomez and Morticia keep going at it

There's like a cooking segment with Grandma. The camera crew exclusively eat fast food after that tho Wednesday and Fester would probably find ways to poison it

I think Margaret would be the most normal in interviews and Pugsley might be a close second Idk

Gomez would sword fight his interviewer

Gardening segment with Morticia

In interviews Lurch would just stare at the camera before abruptly getting up to do his job

In interviews Thing would do sign language and rapidly if he was upset

Oh, have something about 'Eat The Rich' they would be so excited to be on the chopping block and devastated if they were excluded

Just like Modern Family they film at multiple locations and/or residences

The camera crew are fearing for their lives but at the end of it they are like honorary Addams. They also become used to and almost immune to their antics by the end of it all

[just-bendy]

Biggest question I've ever had

Are there any female clones?

Ah, no, not that I know of, or yet, maybe.

How would that work? A Bendy clone whose flaw is bein' female?

Anyway, I know an Alice clone that became male, but that wasn't his flaw comin' outta the ink machine. His name is Alex, he's pretty cool.

[pollsnatural]

Masterlist of polls for other characters

"Love of my life", "my best friend" etc are just names for the tiers. If you think that in your ranking system a character is at the top of your list and is your favorite, then you should vote for S tier. If you think that a character is good but not your favorite, then it's A tier. And so on (only exceptions are E tier and H tier, I think that they just kind of represent mixed feelings).

The picture is taken from Supernatural wiki

[angelsdean]

plotting out a fic outline for a true slowburn is just going "oh they could've kissed here. aaaand they could've kissed here, too. ohh this is definitely a moment they could've kissed. mmm here too." they've gone so many months without kissing !!! how are they living like this !!....i say as the person who is completely in control of when they kiss

[goldenraeofsun]

All For You Part 2

A sequel to this one shot!

After the Angel and Renegade team up, it’s like the floodgates open wide for the Superhero draft. Queen of Moons joins the good fight. Blonde Blade jumps out of the woodwork. Vampirate, the Prophet, Rowena – no superhero name, no last name either. 

Cas bemusedly supervises as Dean fulfills his longtime dream of his own superhero lair. Sam just shakes his head.

Queen of Moons, the techie of the group, outfits them with state-of-the-art computers and cloaking.

Blonde Blade, their unofficial armorer, provides all the practice gear they could need to spar and hone their skills. She also wipes their asses with everything from bo staffs to pool noodles.

Rowena conjures several bottles of booze that never seem to run out. Vampirate supplies 18th century glassware.

All in all, a good setup in Dean’s book. They have a place to drink, commiserate, and party. Somewhere away from the nightmare city they’ve all chosen to live in and occasionally save from total annihilation. 

Sam strikes up a thing with Rowena (that Dean heartily and vocally disapproves of) and starts hanging around more regularly, and the ’Gade Cave really becomes Dean’s second home. 

“Alright,” Blonde Blade says as the late night news report replays footage of their latest fight with Crossroads. “Next time I see Crowley, I’m gonna punch him right in his smug little face.”

“Not if I get there first,” Renegade says cheerfully, raising his beer. Around the table, a few others raise their drinks.

The Angel just glowers from his chair, his glowing eyes narrowed into slits.

The Prophet, who volunteered to record the battle debrief, the freak, shakes his head from behind his computer screen. “I told you going for his left flank was a mistake.”

Renegade protests, “I saw an opening and I took it!”

“I saw you seeing it, and I told you it would be a bad idea,” the Prophet says darkly. “But does anybody ever listen to the guy at HQ?”

“Dearie, you have to speak up more,” Rowena titters, lounging in her chair like a throne. In one hand, she delicately holds a glass of scotch, her wide bell sleeves pooled around her elbow, showing off a pale, slender forearm.

The Prophet rolls his eyes. “Cassandra never had it this bad,” he mutters.

“She had none of your charm,” Rowena assures him. “Nobody listened to her because she was an annoying Trojan twit, not because of some blasted prophecy.”

“Thanks,” the Prophet says sourly.

“Renegade will listen to you next time,” the Angel assures the Prophet.

“Renegade will probably listen to you,” Renegade corrects as the Angel turns his laser glare on him.

But that’s the trouble with the Prophet’s visions. For a guy who’s made a superhero career of seeing the future, he’s pretty shitty at it. The last time Renegade acted on one of his tips, they found the right safehouse, but the Prophet neglected to warn them about the fifty bajillion booby traps guarding the place. Vampirate nearly got his leg clean blown off, and the Angel came home unfortunately singed around the feathers.

“Change the channel to something else, chief,” Vampirate says wearily. “We were all there. We saw what went down.”

Queen of Moons eagerly snatches the remote out of Renegade’s slack grip. “On it!” she chirps as she flips through shows at the speed of light.

Blonde Blade grins. “Hey, wait!”

Queen of Moons wrinkles her nose, the fabric of her domino mask scrunching up. “Seriously?” she asks as she presses the back button.

On the screen, a celebrity gossip piece transitions into some fashion police segment.

“It’s a guilty pleasure,” Blonde Blade sniffs.

“Dude,” Renegade frowns.

“Don’t dude me,” Blonde Blade says as she points the remote, weapon-like, in his face. 

As she could no doubt kill him with it in under five minutes, Renegade holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. He’s man enough to admit it. 

Blonde Blade smirks. “I saw you watching Dr. Sexy last week – you’ve got no room to judge, Tin Can Man.”

Renegade cuts off his retort as the TV host says, “Dean Winchester, of course, always looking stunning –”

Internally, Renegade groans. He averts his gaze from his own smiling face.

“ – in Georgio Armani at the International Otter Adoption Charity gala.”

“Armani, really?” the co-host asks playfully as Renegade scowls behind his helmet.

The host turns to her, his expression aghast. “Yes, Armani. You don’t believe he looks absolutely good enough to eat? Really, Alicia?”

Alicia shrugs. “Armani suits are flashy without actually being flashy. They’re the epitome of the safe option.”

“I don’t know how we’re related,” the host says with a sad shake of his head. “Fine, since Dean doesn’t satisfy, how about his husband? How does Castiel Winchester rank in Christian Siriano?” 

A picture flashes on screen, of Cas looking handsome as fuck on the red carpet. 

“It’s a bit much for me,” the host continues.

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I love it. The cape is so whimsical, and there’s actually a light feather pattern on the inside, a beautiful detail. And while the cape might be a bold choice, the suit itself is pretty tame. Balance, you know?”

The Angel rustles in his seat, adjusting his posture to anybody but Dean, who knows Cas is secretly pleased as fruit fucking punch. The son of a bitch.

“It’s growing on me,” Max admits. “However, I will never forgive Garth Fitzgerald for his crimes against fashion. Did he borrow that hat from Bjork?”

“Bess looks amazing, though.”

“Alright,” Blonde Blade says over Max’s noises of agreement, “Fuck, marry, kill. Dean Winchester, Garth Fitzgerald, and, I dunno,” she taps her chin in thought, “Meg Masters.”

Dean slumps over in his chair. Jesus Christ, just kill him now.

The Angel chokes on nothing and just barely manages to turn his ugly hacks of shock into a polite cough.

Renegade glares at him.

Blonde Blade starts, “Me –” 

God, she’d better choose to kill him. 

“– I’d fuck Dean, marry Garth, and kill Meg.”

“But Garth and Bess are so adorable,” Queen of Moons objects. “You’d want to homewreck that?”

“Garth has so much love in his blessed little southern heart,” Blonde Blade says, grinning, “I bet there’s room for one more. And all the gossip says Dean’s great in the sack.”

The Angel’s mouth purses, in a way that better fucking be agreement. Under the table, Renegade kicks him to stay silent.

“Seriously, have you seen his –”

Renegade interrupts loudly, “Does anyone want another round?”

The Angel stands up without a word and pointedly walks in the direction of the kitchen. Coward.

Blonde Blade asks, “How about you, Queenie?”

“I’d fuck Meg, obviously,” Queen of Moons says, tossing her long red hair behind her shoulder. “Penises give me anxiety in the bedroom.”

Vampirate snorts.

Queen of Moons continues, “I’d probably marry –”

Garth fucking Fitzgerald, for the love of all that is holy, say Garth.

“– Dean, and kill Garth.”

Shit.

Eyes sparkling, Queen of Moons cheerfully explains, “It’d be a lavender marriage, of course, but if I even got half of his fortune, I’d dump a boatload cash on every queer charity in the city, rescue all the goddamn orphans – Batman style, you know – and, just for the fun of it, sue the pants off Dick Roman.”

Actually, that’s not such a bad idea. If only Cas wouldn’t smite her into a soot stain for trying to put a ring on it.

Well, not every orphan. A couple, definitely, if Cas was up for it. And probably once they retired from the whole death-defying-side-gig thing.

“Kill Garth, really?” Blonde Blade asks, eyebrows raised.

“He has a quarter of Dean’s net worth,” Queen of Moons says, frowning. “I’d make it quick and painless, though.” She looks up as The Angel returns, a full glass of whiskey in hand, complete with a neon blue crazy straw. “How about you, Angel?”

“We’re still playing this game?” the Angel asks in a bored voice as he sets the drink in front of Renegade.

Dean mutinously picks up the glass and sucks at the straw. If Cas really cared about him, he’d fly Dean straight to Bora Bora instead of making him a stupid drink.

“Me,” Rowena chimes in, uninvited, as she usually does, “I’d fuck Dean, marry Meg, and kill Garth.”

Renegade’s mouth falls open. “But you’re - you’re already banging his brother!” He gives a full-body shudder of revulsion.

“And while he’s quite,” Rowena pauses as Dean resists the urge to barf, “ adept in the bedroom, who hasn’t dreamed of being in the middle of two strapping young men?”

If Dean could drown himself in his drink, he would. But Cas only filled it with two fingers worth, and his badass superhero helmet would get in the way.

“Uh, me?” Queen of Moons says, pointing at herself. “Although, I have seen very cute pictures of him and his husband. He seems like an A+ cuddler. I wouldn’t mind being in the middle of that G-rated sandwich.”

The Angel barely muffles his laugh behind his hand, and Dean barely refrains from punching said husband right in his glowy face.

Blonde Blade turns to him eagerly. “Alright, angel cake, what’re your two cents?”

The Angel glances ever so briefly at Renegade, and Dean’s stomach sinks. He’d better not say he’d rather fuck Meg.

“If you must know,” he says in a long-suffering voice, “I would fuck Dean –”

Thank god.

“ – marry Dean, and kill Meg.”

Well, that’s not exactly unexpected. It’s almost sweet. Trust Cas to stick to honesty even now.

Blonde Blade narrows her eyes. “That’s not how you play this game.”

“That is my answer.”

Blonde Blade sighs. “You can’t marry and fuck Dean Winchester.”

The Angel’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “I believe that’s what most marriages entail, actually.”

Vampirate snorts. “He’s got you there, Blondie.”

“Fine,” Blonde Blade throws her hands in the air and turns to Renegade. “You’ve been suspiciously silent, Iron Can.”

“I don’t want to play this game.”

Blonde Blade stares at him with legitimate shock. “Since when?”

“Since always.”

Eyebrows rising in disbelief, she continues, “Alright, since someone’s canned goods have clearly been contaminated with botulism, how about you, VP?”

Vampirate leans back in his chair, contemplating the question. “Fuck Meg, marry Garth, and kill Dean.”

Finally. At least Dean has one decent friend among this bunch. Really, is it so hard to find a single person here who doesn’t want to fuck his brains out or bind him in holy matrimony?

“Seriously?” Blonde Blade says, disappointed.

“I like morally gray brunettes,” Vampirate says with a shrug. “And I know Garth can appreciate a good old fashioned bourbon pecan pie –”

“So can Dean,” the Angel says sharply.

Renegade turns to him, surprised to see the actual anger gathering in the set of his mouth and squint of his eyes. 

Queen of Moons blinks. “Woah.”

“Someone struck a nerve, it seems?” Rowena titters.

“Oh my god,” Blonde Blade gasps, “do you have a crush on Dean Winchester?”

The Angel swallows, his gaze darting around the table, lingering half a second too long on Renegade. “Of course I do,” he says.

Dean closes his eyes in horror.

“He’s one of the most upstanding members of society,” the Angel starts, and this is so much worse than Dean pictured. “He regularly gives to charity. He supports grassroots politics. He cares enormously for this city, a city that chooses to pick apart his fashion choices and resurface his teenage antics instead of extolling his many virtues.”

“Cas,” Dean murmurs, so quietly only the Angel would pick up on it, “Shut your goddamn pie hole.”

He feels more than sees Cas roll his eyes, since Cas’s entire eye socket shines brightly with his inner light. Like a lava lamp turned up to eleven.

Vampirate whistles. “I wonder if Dean knows he has a secret superhero admirer.”

Dean scowls. Yes, he very much does know this.

The Angel’s wings flutter in anticipation. “And you all are just talking about him,” his voice lowers dangerously, “like he’s a piece of meat or simply a bank account to do what you will, like he has no mind of his own –”

“Fine,” Renegade interrupts, slamming his fist down on the table. The glasses all rattle. “Fuck Garth. Marry Meg. Kill Dean. Happy? Can we please change the subject?”

“You’d kill Dean as well?” the Angel asks, in a stupidly wounded sort of voice.

Dean’s gonna kill him too if he keeps this up.

The Angel’s wings puff up like an angry emu. “But he –”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean yanks his helmet off to yell at Cas properly. “It’s just a stupid game, alright? I know what everyone thinks of me. That’s on purpose, dumbass. It’s so nobody puts two-and-two together and gets one super secret superhero identity. Like I’ve told you a million goddamn times, it doesn’t matter. People are gonna talk no matter what you do.”

Silence reigns.

Rowena is the first to recover. She nearly doubles over in her seat, cackling like the witch she is.

“What the fuck,” Blonde Blade murmurs as Queen of Moons goes white as a sheet.

Vampirate says nothing, but his gaze ping pongs from Dean to the Angel and back again, calculating.

“You’re Dean Winchester,” The Prophet screeches. “You - you paid for my college scholarship!”

Dean just sighs and slumps back in his seat. Wordlessly, he picks up his glass and drains it.

The second silence is even more deafening than the first.

“Well, isn’t this awkward,” Rowena says unhelpfully, like she didn’t suggest a threesome with him and his brother ten minutes ago.

Dean ignores her.

“You didn’t have to do that, Dean,” the Angel tells him quietly.

He shrugs. “I was planning on it anyway. Just… not right now.”

“I’ll say,” Rowena says in carrying undertone as she glances between them curiously. “You knew about him?” she asks the Angel.

He gives a single clipped nod.

Vampirate drawls, “It would be hard to keep a secret like that from one’s spouse.”

Smiling slightly, Dean toasts him with his empty glass. He always liked Vampirate best – after the Angel, of course.

With this brand-spanking new revelation, the Prophet looks like he’s about to faint. “So you’re…” he drifts off, apparently unable to finish his sentence.

Queen of Moons turns to him, her expression quizzical. “You didn’t see this one coming?”

“Maybe I actually suck at this,” the Prophet says, horrified.

[quietwings-fics]

what was I made for? (a silver lining)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Kevin & Lucifer) Additional Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Kevin Tran has PTSD, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, First Meetings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Protective Lucifer (Supernatural), Injury, Hurt Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Developing Friendships, Prophet Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Season/Series 08 Wordcount: 5396 Summary:

All prophets are promised an archangel for their protection. There are very few of those left.

Kevin wakes up on the floor, with one hand in his hair pulling and pulling until tears crawl down his face. He can’t breathe. He can’t- He pulls harder. This doesn’t feel like a stroke, but the way his heart is hammering, maybe he’s wrong, or maybe it’s finally going to give out on him and leave him gasping for help that won’t come. His vision is blurry. He doesn’t know if it’s the tears or something worse.

He has fingers. He has a hand. He has limbs that twist and curl in as his panicked breaths hit the floor. He pulls his hair harder. He can feel the sting of it coming loose, and there’s no relief in it. There used to be. Now, it’s rote.

Crowley’s voice isn’t in his head anymore. He might still be there.

Kevin was dreaming. He still has a hand. Was Crowley a part of the dream? When did he wake up? When did he fall asleep? He’s on the floor. He takes that in. Cold, hard floor. Hand twisted in his hair joined by the other one to pull harder. His scalp might start bleeding again if he yanks out too much. Better his scalp than his nose, his eyes, his ears. All of them burst at some point in the past few weeks.

There's painful pressure in his head that doesn't go away. His heart thumps so hard it hurts and every too deep inhale sparks sharp pain through his chest and ribs until he's forced to make them shallower and shallower. It might really be another stroke. He pulls the corners of his mouth up and down. He drags his eyebrows across his face in horrific expressions. They move in sync. Not a stroke. Panic attacks feel a lot like them. They didn’t use to, back when they were just about graduating, but Kevin’s life has gotten a whole lot worse so it makes sense that everything else about him has, too.

He’s starting to calm down. There’s black hairs clinging to the sweat on his hands. His head will end up patchy from how much he pulls out at this rate. He still doesn’t want to leave the floor.

The tablet is in the other room, beating like his heart. Always shouting at him to read it, hold it, burn the words into himself.

If he throws up, he might feel a little better and be able to get on with his day. He’s considering it. He’s good at forcing his body to do what it doesn’t want to by now.

And that’s when he hears the thump.

Kevin’s whole body goes rigid. He’s tried to make himself tougher, but fear always gets the better of him, chokehold on his already strained lungs. Crowley’s taunts echo, and he can’t tell if he’s hearing them or remembering them.

There’s more noise in the other room. The boat isn’t big enough to hide when someone else is there. This doesn’t sound like walking. It’s too heavy, too slow.

It doesn’t sound like Garth. It’s not his mom. It’s not Sam and Dean. That means someone is here to hurt him.

Garth is on a hunt. Kevin doesn’t know where his phone is, and the Winchesters wouldn’t respond soon enough to save him anyway. It’s just him, the tablet, and the thing in the other room.

The tablet is in the other room. The realization causes a stab of pain right in Kevin’s side, deep and twisting. That old stone is capable of a lot of anger. It spent too much time buried. It doesn’t like being abandoned. (Kevin’s always in pain. The other half is screaming at him to put it back together, but he can’t.)

Kevin pushes himself up. Hands, then knees under him, then wobbly legs. What does he have to protect himself in here? There’s a pipe. It’s heavy, and he knows he’s not going to be able to swing it well. He doesn’t get much of a chance for exercise between translating and passing out and the occasional seizure. It’s not like a pipe will stop a demon anyway. The least he can do is make it frustrating to capture him again. If he can make Crowley’s day just a little bit worse, it’s worth it. (He’s lying to himself. It’s not worth it. He doesn’t want to be tortured again, he doesn’t want to die, god, he’s scared, his heart’s still pounding wildly and he can’t suck in enough air.)

He rounds the doorway, pipe raised. “Whoever you are-“ He starts.

He sees the intruder for the first time. They’re leaning against the table, hands on top of his notes. They aren’t reading them. They look like they might be trying to stop themselves from falling over.

It’s a man. Older, might be blonde, but there’s so much wrong with him that Kevin can’t focus on that. He looks like a corpse. Gaunt face and thin frame, a barely dressed skeleton. His skin ranges from pale like death to mottled with deep bruises, and those are the parts that are unmarked, not even mentioning the scarring that covers most of his face and any other patch of skin Kevin can see.

His head is hanging, his chest heaving like he’s run a marathon (or like he’s Kevin, still panicking.) Kevin swallows. He keeps the pipe up.

“Who the fuck are you?” He even manages not to sound as scared as he feels.

The man doesn’t respond for a moment. Kevin’s a little worried he’ll collapse and die, leaving Kevin with a body to hide or destroy or… burn? Then, he swings his gaze up. His mouth hangs open loosely, dragging in breaths. His gums peek from behind cracked lips, swollen and bleeding down his teeth. But he smiles.

It’s fucking terrifying.

“There you are.” His voice is like a death rattle, creeping out of his throat. He squints at Kevin. “You look young. I think. It’s hard to tell.”

“Tell me who you are,” Kevin demands. His arms are starting to shake from holding up the pipe for so long. The man stands up straighter.

Kevin sucks in a breath as his brain begins to burn and his eyes water. It’s like getting a needle in his eye, slipping down that hollow into his skull and disturbing every nerve. His vision sparks to create something new on the spectrum of light he shouldn’t be able to glimpse. His hands spasm. He drops the pipe.

The thing glows. Kevin has seen angels before, but this is something else. Staring into the sun, he resists the urge to close his eyes, and the light molds itself around the human body standing a few feet away from Kevin. It pulses under its skin, tendrils wrapped around its limbs, veins of pure glowing power that pull away from the body in some places only to sink back in elsewhere. Behind it, large, misshapen forms barely fit the room, can't exist without melting into each other. They’re crooked, twitching like dead cockroach legs.

The thing doesn’t seem to notice that Kevin can see all of it now. Its face stretches beyond its bloodstained lips and scarred skin, a twisting row of teeth and horns and eyes. When it speaks, its voice hurts like the tablet does when Kevin tries to look away halfway through a sentence. “You’re a prophet. You get protection. Heaven provides.” It pauses. “Or can’t. Some things have been lost that can’t be replaced.” Its voice shakes. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’m still here.” It breathes, ragged, head falling. “I’m still here.”

“What are you even talking about?” It frowns. It coughs, and its light flickers with each wracking struggle for air. This thing is injured. It isn’t just wearing a half-dead man as a meat suit for fun. It manages to focus its gaze back on Kevin.

“Your protection. All prophets are guarded by an archangel. I am still… I’m still here. I’m still an archangel.” It pants. Its.. the things behind it twitch again. Looking at it is making Kevin nauseous. He wishes he could turn this sight off. Even the body it’s wearing would be better to look at. The thing catches its breath again. “You have a blood clot forming in your brain.”

“What?” Kevin’s hand flies up to his head, like he could possibly feel that. He isn’t that surprised. The thing lifts a hand with effort.

“Come here,” it invites. Kevin stays put. “I know. You’re frightened. I can’t blame you. I probably- How do I look?”

“Like Hell,” Kevin answers without thinking. He regrets it when it makes the thing laugh. It doubles over, hand falling back to the table to support it.

“I brought it back with me,” it says, “but I made it. I’m here.” Kevin’s starting to pick up on the slightly frantic way it repeats those words. It’s like it has to prove it to itself. “I’m still here,” it says, “I’m still here.” It licks blood off its lip. “Come closer, prophet. Do you have a name? What is it?”

“I’m not going anywhere near you.” Kevin can’t go anywhere else either. He’s cornered. As weak as this thing is acting, he’s completely certain that if he tried to fight it off, he would lose. Badly.

“I don’t have to hurt you. You’re already killing yourself. Now come here and let me heal you.”

This is a bad idea. Worse than any Kevin has ever had. And he trusts the Winchesters, for fuck’s sake.

But this thing- this angel is holding out its hand again. Kevin takes a step forward, and another, and another until he’s within reach. He braces himself. The angel fumbles, grabbing his shirt, his shoulder, before it manages to land its hand on the side of his face. Its unkempt nails scrape his skin. It shuts its eyes, both the body and the other parts of it inside. Kevin shuts his, too.

There’s a gentle, cool sensation that flows from its fingertips into his head. It’s like sitting in front of a fan during a heatwave or ice sliding down the back of his neck to soothe a sunburn. Kevin leans into it without thinking. For a moment, nothing hurts.

It’s only for a moment. The other aches, the exhaustion, the tablet hammering away at him, it all comes back. The pressure in his head doesn’t return. The angel drops its hand.

“All better. That part, anyway. You’re a mess.” Its voice, the one coming from his mouth and not the one coming from… somewhere else, is getting easier to listen to the longer it uses it. It’s soft, and there’s sometimes a teasing lilt that seeps into it. “Do I get to know your name, now?”

“I don’t know yours,” Kevin counters.

For the first time, the angel falters. It drags in a breath. Its arms supporting itself against the table shake but hold.

“I’m all you get,” it answers. “Does it matter?”

Kevin crosses his arms.

Its eyes drift to the broken tablet. “I’m there. You know me.” It huffs a weaker laugh. “Credit for my work. He’d make sure it was recorded.”

There is one angel’s name on the demon tablet. Kevin’s heart begins to beat loudly again. He takes a step back, useless as that is. His throat feels strangled tight. The angel tilts its head at him.

“Lucifer,” Kevin forces out. It nods.

Kevin can’t breathe again. The devil watches him.

“Don’t you feel special,” it says, not mocking but exhausted. “Where are you going.” Kevin keeps stepping back. There’s no exit that way, but he needs distance between him and that thing, any at all will do. It sighs painfully and pushes itself up. Kevin watches it stagger around the table. “Stop-“ It makes it a few steps. It sways. “You- hu-“

Kevin jumps when it hits the floor. It’s not all at once. Its legs give out, and it catches itself on its palms, heaving in breaths. It shakes. “I’m still here,” it whispers, not for Kevin at all. “I’m still here. I’m still-“ It shakes harder. Blood drips from its mouth to the floor, and when it finally passes out, it hits its jaw against the ground in a way that makes Kevin wince. He’s gotten pretty good at passing out the past few months, but he still remembers how it felt to crack his head on things as he went down.

It’s still. Kevin has seen angels die before. He waits for its wings to burn across the boat, probably ruining some of his notes in the process.

But the devil does not die. Kevin steps forward. He nudges it with his shoe. It doesn’t react. He kicks it. Still nothing.

The first words out of his mouth when Sam Winchester finally answers his call (the third time he dials) are, “How do you trap an angel?”

“What? Kevin, what happened? Are you okay?”

“The fucking devil is in my safehouse! How do you think I am?” Sam sucks in a sharp breath. There's a thud. If Kevin didn't know better, he'd think Sam had dropped the phone.

Dean’s voice comes over the phone next. “Kevin, if this is a prank or you’ve finally spilled your marbles all over the-“

“Tell me how to protect myself or shut up,” Kevin snaps. Terror makes standing up to Dean a breeze.

“Holy oil. Make a circle. Light it up. We left some with Garth. Where is Garth?” Dean still sounds like he thinks Kevin has lost it. Kevin doesn’t have time to deal with him. He doesn’t know when that thing is going to wake up.

“Not here.”

“Well, we will be soon. Just- hold tight. Don’t do anything stupid.” Kevin doesn’t even bother to say goodbye. He hangs up.

Finding the holy oil turns out to be the easy part. He can’t make a circle in the boat. Which means moving the body.

He tries to only drag it by its clothes. (The scars on its skin peel when Kevin touches them.) He ungracefully lugs it outside, banging it against things, some on accident, some on purpose. It doesn’t wake up. He lets go of the body in a dirt pit, far enough away from the grass that Kevin hopes it doesn’t catch. It’s been a dry few weeks. The oil soaks the ground. Kevin burns his fingers dropping a match into the circle.

And then he all but collapses himself, shaking from adrenaline and muscles aching from pulling around a corpse with an angel inside it. Kevin sits in front of the ring of fire. The oil burns hot enough that sweat beads on his skin. He hopes that this stuff doesn’t run out. He should have asked.

It doesn’t seem to. Kevin’s not sure how long he sits out there. The tablet is beating in the back of his head, but he can’t take his eyes off of Lucifer. Every minute twitch makes him anxious. Lucifer mutters a lot. Names, mostly, or Kevin thinks they are.

It says Sam’s name sometimes.

Kevin blinks, and when he looks at Lucifer again, it hasn’t moved. Its eyes are open. It stares at Kevin through the flames near Lucifer’s face. It’s not a very big circle.

“Let me out.”

“Why would I do that?” Kevin scrubs his hand over his cheek, stubble scratching his palm. “You’re staying in there until someone who can kill you gets here.” Lucifer makes a noise that tries to be a laugh but chokes instead.

“You’ll be waiting a long time.”

“I don’t know. Dean drives 20 above the speed limit when he’s not in a hurry.” That sparks something. Lucifer pushes itself to a sitting position, its gaze drilling into Kevin. The rest of it, the parts that shouldn’t be seen, is all crowded into the circle, trapped. That makes it even harder to look at. It’s brighter than the mid-morning sun beating down on them.

“Is Sam coming?” It sounds… excited? Hopeful? It’s unnerving either way. Kevin doesn’t have to answer before Lucifer is asking, “is he okay?”

Kevin has no idea how to answer that honestly.

“I don’t know.” Lucifer looks away. It shakes its head. Kevin yawns. He hasn’t had coffee today because of Lucifer intruding on his safehouse, or anything stronger to keep him on his feet. Just fear, which works best in small doses. Lucifer is looking at him strangely again.

“Why are you like this? Is there no one left in Heaven to watch over you?”

“You said it yourself. You’re all I get.” Something flashes across its face. Pain. Grief.

“I’m the only archangel still here.” It spreads its hands, shrugs, like it’s presenting the punchline of a joke Kevin never heard. When Kevin doesn’t react, it drops its  hands and its head, squeezing its eyes shut. “But other angels would have stepped in. Where are they?”

“A couple were supposed to protect me once.” Kevin grips his own arm tight so that he won’t shudder. “Leviathan beats angel.” (He checks his blood every other day. It’s red. He doesn’t like drinking from the tap, and he won’t eat things until he’s made sure the store it was bought at and the particular brand of the food has or had no connection to Roman Enterprises.) Lucifer, for the first time, looks angry.

“I’m sorry,” it says at Kevin. Kevin’s pretty sure it’s not apologizing to him.

“After that, everyone left me to fend for myself for a year. In hindsight, it was a good year. I mean, it was the worst of my life at the time, but… now this one is.” Lucifer gives him a commiserating grimace.

“There’s always a new low,” it agrees., “and now, without Heaven, you’re under the protection of the Winchesters.”

“Technically, they leave me with their… friend.”

“And let you slowly kill yourself reading God’s footnotes.”

“Either I figure out how to slam Hell’s gates shut, or I have to live like this forever.”

“You think it ends?” Lucifer asks.

Kevin is quiet for a moment. He bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood.

“Shut up.” He doesn’t want the devil’s pity.

He wants…

Honestly? He wants his mom. He wants a hug. He wants to eat something. He wants his own bed in his own home. He just wants his head to stop hurting.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Lucifer says. This time, it is meant for Kevin. “It’s not fair. It was never going to be.”

“I’m supposed to believe that you care?”

“What do I have to gain from lying to you, prophet?”

“Kevin,” he says. He looks down into the dividing line of the holy fire. “My name is Kevin Tran. I’m…” He doesn’t know what to say about himself anymore. How to define what he is. “I used to be…” But that isn’t right either. He sighs. “I’m just really fucking tired. I want this to be over.” Lucifer's many eyes blink at him in sympathy. It freaks Kevin out a little.

“I could heal more of you,” he offers. Kevin snorts.

“You passed out the first time.”

“I’m tired, too,” Lucifer says it around a smile, but there’s a genuine offer of connection there. As genuine as he can manage, Kevin guesses. “You’d have to let me out again.”

“Not happening.”

“Kevin,” Lucifer says, “I'm here to protect you. I won’t lie. I won’t trick you.” He looks down at the fire. “The Winchesters can’t kill me or put me back in my Cage anymore. Eventually, this fire will go out. I will find you, and I will help you.”

“That’s your threat?”

“Yes.”

Kevin’s spent a lot of time in the company of monsters in the past two years. He’s been flattered and cajoled and bullied and tortured. He’s gotten very good at recognizing when someone wants something from him and how far they’re willing to go to get it. His finger twinges.

“If I let you out right now, what would you do?” Lucifer leans back a little, as far as the fire allows.

“I would knock you out for the next few days.”

“You can’t do that. I need to translate-“

“That rock isn’t going anywhere.”

“I mean, it won’t let me sleep that long,” Kevin snaps at him for interrupting. “Even if I wanted to. And I don’t," he lies. Lucifer frowns.

“A few hours?”

God, that sounds good.

“Two hours.”

“Six.”

“Thr- Why am I negotiating with you? You’re trapped.”

“Five hours.”

Four!” Kevin can’t help but argue back. Lucifer smiles.

“Fine. Four. You win.” Kevin has the feeling he played right into Lucifer’s hands. Which won’t matter anyway. He’s not letting him out. “You have to eat something, too."

“No.”

“No?”

“Half the stuff on the shelves might still have Leviathan leftovers in it. I’m not touching it.”

“I wouldn’t let you eat poison. Look at yourself. You’re scrawny.”

“You’re one to talk.” Lucifer looks down.

“My vessel has been in a coma. What’s your excuse?”

“How about destroying every demon in existence?”

“And how do you plan to manage that if you die of malnutrition first?” Kevin's mouth twists.

“If you get me shit to eat, do you promise it’ll be safe?” Kevin can’t really be entertaining this idea.

His stomach growls in disagreement.

Maybe all the stuff he’s on is impairing his judgement. It’s not like he needs an excuse that’ll hold up in court. Just ones that'll keep the Winchesters off his ass.

“Promise,” Lucifer says. Kevin stands up.

There’s sweat lining his forehead and the collar of his shirt. The back of his neck hurts, the usual mark of poor posture instead of anything serious. Lucifer follows him up, head tilted back. He’s horrifying from any angle. Kevin scuffs his shoe into the dirt, gathering up a small pile. He kicks it onto the flame. It flickers, but remains burning. Lucifer straightens up. Kevin kicks more dirt onto the circle. Whatever Lucifer has that are supposed to be wings rise slightly. Kevin kicks a clump and a bit of the fire sputters and dies. Before Kevin can even step back, the rest of it is snuffed out, leaving Lucifer free where he sits.

Kevin swallows. He digs his nails into his palms as Lucifer gets to his feet. It looks like it takes him a lot of effort.

“So, breakfast?” he says, as though Kevin won’t have to help him walk back to the boat or he won’t pass out a second time after he actually gets the food he promised, leaving Kevin to cook with Lucifer propped up in a corner of the room like a disturbingly lifelike doll. For some reason, Kevin’s able to focus on making breakfast for once rather than having half-finished translations roll through his head without end. Having Lucifer nearby calms that down. Kevin is allowed to think straight for the first time in a long time.

Lucifer wakes up eventually. Kevin can’t tell if he looks better or worse than he did when he arrives. Tentatively, he offers leftovers. Lucifer pokes at them for a while before eating.

“Four hours,” Lucifer reminds him as Kevin finally picks up the tablet for the first time that day.

Kevin makes a face. He's not sure he wants to find out what Lucifer will do if he tries to disagree, even if all that turns out to be is Lucifer passing out on top of him this time. His bed is still uncomfortable. The way the boat creaks still makes him tense. Lucifer is moving around in the other room, his presence an actual hum that Kevin can hear.

It’s not that loud, though. And it’s constant. And almost…

Lucifer does not come wake him up when his four hours are up. Lucifer lets him oversleep until the thing that actually wakes Kevin up is a gunshot.

He rolls out of his bed in a panic, hitting the floor. He’s right back where he’s started, only wrapped in more sheets and struggling to get out of them. Dean’s pissed off voice is ringing through the whole boat as he gets his feet under him enough to make it to the other room. His head spins, still groggy.

Sam is pale as a sheet. Dean is pointing a gun and cursing. Lucifer has a bullet hole where his eye once was. Kevin debates throwing up but decides he doesn’t have time for that. He opts to not look at Lucifer very closely.

“Kevin,” Sam is the first one to say, “you’re alive.” It’s like his face is halfway between horror and concern, pulled both ways and not making progress towards either.

“If you laid a hand on him, I’ll-“ Dean yells.

“Does healing him count?” Lucifer asks. He looks very entertained by Dean’s answering growl. At least, Kevin thinks so. It’s hard to tell with half of his face now- He’s not looking at that. His stomach turns.

“Don’t shoot him again,” Kevin says. He is, predictably, ignored. Except by Sam, whose expression contorts closer to a pained, pitying one.

“Can’t hold your vessel together, Satan?” Dean fingers the trigger. Lucifer lifts his hand to his own face and probes the exposed muscle and the cavernous hole where his eye was. He doesn’t seem that disturbed by it. Kevin wishes he would stop, if only so the urge to retch stops rearing its head.

“Not really,” he admits, “so stop putting holes in it. Unless Sam, you-“ His voice brightens back into that hopeful tone he had far earlier when he found out the Winchesters were involved in this at all. Sam flinches back, somehow turning paler. Lucifer falters. “Sam?” he asks, softly.

“Leave him alone,” Dean snarls. Sam has his thumb pressed against the palm of his other hand. Kevin’s seen him do that before, but he has no idea what it means beyond being a nervous reflex, like Kevin pulling his own hair out.

“He’s not hurting anyone, so put the gun down,” Kevin tries again. This time, he even gets Dean to look at him for a second, even if it’s only a ‘you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about so shut up’ kind of look. Dean uses those a lot.

“You don’t know what he’s done,” he says.

“I tried to end the world.” Lucifer turns to look at Kevin with his remaining eye, with most of the attention of his other form underneath, though some remaining blinding eyes stay fixed on Sam, squinting in worry and confusion. “It’s not a secret. There was an Apocalypse, and I lost. To them.” He tips his head towards Sam and Dean. “They were better than me. Sam was-“ Sam winces again when Lucifer says his name, and Lucifer’s other form mirrors him even though his vessel doesn’t. He cuts off whatever he was about to say off.

“Were you the reason the Leviathans got out?” Kevin asks.

“No. They’d eat everything. I wouldn’t set them loose on this world.” Kevin believes him. What he believes is the disgust in Lucifer’s voice, but he still believes him.

“He did… other things, Kevin. To- to me.” It’s all Sam can manage to force out. Lucifer breathes out. Blood is starting to stain his shirt. He isn’t healing his face, and Kevin’s starting to think that he can’t. He couldn’t heal any of the other injuries he had before, and most angels Kevin has met (few, but enough) don’t happily walk around with open wounds.

“You said yes, Sam. It was supposed to be good,” he says remorsefully. Sam looks like he’s going to be sick. Dean waves his gun again.

“You can’t agree to torture, you son of a-“

“I didn’t torture your brother. I let him come to me! I asked! You were there!” Lucifer’s voice strains in frustration.

“I didn’t fall into Hell with you.”

“I couldn’t possess Sam in Hell. Something took his body away from me.”

“No one cares that you possessed him!” For the first time, (today. That Kevin’s seen, at least) Sam doesn’t flinch from Lucifer but from Dean’s words. Dean is getting louder. Lucifer’s voice has remained at the same steady volume. “I’m talking about you flaying him alive for fun in the Cage until you broke his brain.”

“What?” Lucifer only gets quieter.

“You weren’t going to tell Kevin that detail-“

“What detail? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If I rearrange your brain, maybe you’ll remember.” Dean points the gun at his head. Kevin, without thinking, steps in the way. It’s not as useful as he’d hoped, Lucifer’s vessel is taller than him, but Dean probably won’t risk shooting him. He’s the only one who can translate the tablet. That’s leverage. (He doesn't think about a room of clueless not-yet-prophets. Dean can be an asshole. He's not Crowley. Kevin's not disposable.) “Get out of the way, Kevin.”

“I wouldn’t hurt Sam. I protected him from Hell.” Lucifer puts a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin’s pretty sure he’s making sure his new meat-shield stays between him and Dean’s gun, but Lucifer pushes him, or tries to push him, to the side. Out of danger. “I protected you,” he says to Sam, sounding a little desperate, “Sam, tell me you were okay.” Sam doesn’t answer. He pushes down on his palm harder. “Tell me that the Cage didn’t hurt you. I did everything I could, it had to be enough. It had to.”

“You’re not fooling anyone.” Dean says.

“Dean-“ Sam speaks up.

“Ten days,” Dean says, sharply, shooting Sam's words dead, “that’s how long you were awake. You wouldn't have made it if Cas didn’t show up.”

Lucifer makes a noise like Dean has pulled the trigger on him again.

Sam’s mouth pulls into a thin line. He tries to look at Lucifer, and he can’t. His gaze drops.

“What are you going to do, Dean? You can’t kill him. If you mess up his vessel too much, he’ll find another one and ruin them, too.” Lucifer makes that same sound again, and it’s awful. Sam refuses to raise his eyes. “We can’t get rid of him. He’s not hurting Kevin yet. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“I don’t know,” Sam says, “but I don’t think we get a choice here.”

The silence stretches out from the tip of Dean’s pistol to the beating of Kevin’s heart. Lucifer is still trying to push him to the side. Kevin plants his feet firmly and doesn’t move. Half of the breakfast Lucifer brought him is still sitting in a pan, growing cold.

Dean lowers his gun.

Kevin lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Fine,” Dean says, “then why don’t we take Kevin somewhere safer, and when we get there, we’ll tell you where it is.”

“I go where the prophet goes,” says Lucifer, which means ‘No.’

“You had somewhere safer to put me this whole time,” says Kevin, which means ‘What the fuck.’

Dean opens his mouth, shuts it again, and then makes a face.

“You’re right,” Lucifer says. “That is more important. You had somewhere safer he could be, and you left him on a boat?"

Sam is making his guilty face. Kevin is well acquainted with it.

“We only found it a couple of months ago,” he says, like he knows he’s making the situation worse and he can’t stop himself. “We’re not completely sure it’s safer.” That is Sam’s lying voice. Kevin is also very well acquainted with that.

“Right. It’s not like you’re living there.” It’s a shot in the dark, but from the look Sam and Dean share, Kevin’s hit a bullseye. He’s almost too tired to be mad. Almost. “Seriously? You made me live with Garth!”

“We were going to bring you there. Eventually,” Dean grumbles.

“When?”

Kevin does not get an answer.

“Now.” Lucifer decides for them. He squeezes Kevin's shoulder. “I can help you pack, and then I’m coming with you.” He says that at Sam and Dean. He does not leave any room to argue.

It’s kind of nice having a guy that those two have to shut up and listen to on Kevin’s side, for once.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[pssy-wagn]

Prompt 1: Restaurant