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ltleflrt · 3 years

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Hey Carrie! You talked a little the other day about writers' tendency to start a fic too early in the story, and how you see a lot of first scenes that could have been scrapped to improve the story. My question is if you have some tips to recognize while writing that first scene that you are starting too early in the story?

Hello friend!

That's a really good question, and I'll see if I can give an answer that makes sense. I am not a professional, and I'm not educated or trained in this stuff, it's just something that I recognize from years and years and years of voracious reading. And as with all writing advice, I encourage you to take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt and remember that no writing rule is a hard rule, only a guideline.

Also, my advice is going to be pertaining fanfiction, and specifically to AUs. Obviously a published book has an editor with a razor blade going through a manuscript for you, and the problems that bother me in fanfiction crop up in AUs more than Canonverse.

Oh, and every instance of "you" is general, not specific 😜

So I think the main problem that I see is that people are starting with an Info Dump. An Info Dump is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's completely necessary, but it is NOT where you want to start your story. If it absolutely has to be done, it's better to be somewhere in the middle or near the end. When it's something that your characters need to know.

That's an important bit: Do your characters need to know this?

And related to that: Does your audience need to know this for the story to make sense?

And very important follow up: If the answers to the above questions are yes, does the character/audience need to know this RIGHT NOW?

There's a lot of information about your story that YOU need to know. Heck, my notes files are full of sooooooo much stuff that I know about the characters and plot that never reaches the final product.

So when you're reading your first chapter (I say reading, not writing, because sometimes info dumping for your own benefit is good, and then you fix it before you share the story lol), ask yourself those two questions.

So for example:

In an AU where Dean is a tattoo artist, and it's his POV. The story starts with Dean driving to work, and when he gets there he's going to find out that the empty shop next door has been purchased and is going to be a yoga studio. He meets Castiel out front, up on a ladder trying to hang a hand painted sign, and some teens go running buy and knock into the ladder and Dean has to catch Castiel from falling. (Anyone who wants to adopt this idea is welcome to it btw, I would love to read this lol)

The mistake I often see in a first chapter like this is that as Dean is walking to work, there's a whole Info Dump about why he's a tattoo artist instead of a hunter. He'll be ambling along, thinking about his nice little business, and there's info about how his mom died in a fire, and his dad was a jerk, and Dean didn't go to college because he saved his money for Sammy's college fund, and Dean's only passion was art, and Bobby Singer introduced him to a tattoo shop owner who took Dean under his wing, etc.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: Why is Dean reflecting on his past? Does Castiel need to know this information in order to build a romance with Dean?

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Why does this information matter? If Dean's only reflecting on this because you want to make sure your audience knows where the timeline changed and this became an AU, then you're starting too early in your story. Dean doesn't need to know this, and honestly in a lot of cases the reader doesn't need to know this. This is information that should have been left in your notes file.

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: If this information is pertinent to the plot, like maybe there's some trauma there that Castiel might need to know about to develop their relationship, then you don't want to put it HERE, you want to put it in a conversation with Castiel LATER.

If I was writing this AU, I would just start with Dean sipping his coffee, he's kinda tired because reasons, he looks up to see an unusual commotion, and has to drop his coffee and sprint forward to catch Cas. If he's reflecting on anything in this scene, it's going to be whatever made him tired, or how good/bad the coffee is this morning. Since Cas is a new business owner, they can talk about the origins of Dean's business on their first date, because it'll be a relevant response to Castiel talking about the origins of his yoga studio.

And just in general, if Dean's origin story includes a lot of canon elements, like mom dying in a fire, dad being a deadbeat, Sammy being the adorable overachieving Stanford student.... try to hide that info for as long as you can so that the audience is actually curious about it by the time the info might pop up. It's the wild divergences that are more interesting earlier on.

Okay, and then I want to talk about my giant pet peeve for a starting chapter. It's a specific kind of info dump, that often includes the stuff from above, but then goes a step further.

My nemesis, The Daily Grind.

I haven't asked the authors, so I could be wrong about this, but I feel like most of the time when this type of chapter is included in a story it is because the author wants to show the reader that the character's life is boring and meaningless before the plot's inciting incident. I can absolutely see why that might be considered an important detail about the character, but keep in mind if it's boring and meaningless to the character, it's boring and meaningless to your audience.

You know how I said earlier that writing tips should never be hard and fast rules? Well this is in regards to that Show Don't Tell rule, and it's an example of TOO MUCH showing lol

It is possible to do a daily grind in an interesting way, but only if you include a Shake Up right away. And you have to look at the 3 questions a little bit differently.

So for example:

Castiel POV, and he works in an office. His daily routine is to always get up at the same time every day, he goes for his run, he grooms himself, he has his breakfast, he goes to work and talks to Kelly about how Jack's doing in kindergarten for a few minutes before going into his office. Adler comes in to be a prick, Castiel hates him for it, and then he does his reports, has lunch hiding in a corner of the lunch room so that his co-workers will leave him alone, he does more reporting, leaves an hour after his shift technically ends, goes home to a lonely apartment that maybe includes a pet who is the only being that shows him affection, has an unsatisfying dinner of leftover takeout while watching a mindless reality tv show, then he goes to bed.

Ugh.

BORING.

Which, yeah I get it, the point is that his life is boring. But now the story is too, and I've clicked the back button before I can see how exciting it's capable of getting.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: No. He knows. Poor thing definitely already knows.

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Yes, but...

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: Yes, but new question for ya:

Optional Question 4, why does this need to be separate from your plot's inciting incident? The answer to this 4th question is usually that it doesn't.

Chapter 2 of this type of beginning usually shows the shake up of Castiel's day. My advice is to start with the shakeup, and sprinkle in the details of what you would have put into chapter 1 to show the contrast. It's far more interesting to learn how boring Castiel's day is by starting with the shake up.

So, same scenario:

Castiel's alarm doesn't go off for some reason, OH NO HIS ROUTINE IS SHAKEN UP! You're explaining his routine while also stressing him the fuck out because he has to rush, or skip something that he normally needs to do. Action! Interesting! He gets to work late, and has to miss his conversation with Kelly about Jack because she's telling him that Adler's already in his office being a prick because Castiel isn't there waiting for him like he always is. Oh shit, he's pissing off his asshole boss! Conflict! He's so flustered by the shakeups that he misses something on his report, and he gets a call from that new marketing guy Dean Winchester who asks if they can have a meeting about it when Castiel normally takes his lunch. BAM! MEET CUTE OPPORTUNITY! While Castiel is getting all flustered by how pretty Dean is while they talk about TPS reports, he can reflect on how this is both better and worse than hiding from his co-workers in the corner of the lunch room. The rest of the day after that meeting he's thinking about how weird this day is, he still goes home an hour late, he talks to his pet about his weird day when he gets home, and maybe he still eats leftover takeout, but he's not paying attention to the reality tv show because holy shit he wants to count Dean's freckles.

In this example, you're Telling the audience about Castiel's normal routine instead of Showing them. But since it's during a plot heavy chapter, it works!

Lemme see if I can TL:DR this...

As you're reading, ask yourself who needs to know this information, why do they need to know this information, and why is it important for this information to be included early instead of later?

If the answer to any of those questions boils down to "this is backstory" instead of "this kicks off the plot", then you've started too early.

I hope this helps? I'm always nervous about giving writing advice because so much of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just feeling around in the dark. And I definitely do not ever want to hurt an author's feelings, because this hobby is so fucking hard, and we're all fragile. Even authors who welcome con-crit with open arms will have a weak point that they're unaware of that might get poked wrong and cause a crack, ya know?

I hope anyone who gets this far who might see their own works reflected in my examples understands that I have a lot of respect for their ability to put their work out into the world, and I want them to keep doing it. We're here to have fun, okay? Okay. I love y'all 💜

#ltleramblings #writer's angst #also i think some of these problems can be solved with a prologue #but that's something i'm literally exploring in my current WIP #so I have no idea if I'm doing it right #and i might be breaking all of my own rules with it lol

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crackdkettle · 2 years

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I can’t stop thinking about the au where Benny leaves Purgatory with Sam and Bobby, and Dean sets him up with a new identity, and then in S9, instead of just kicking Cas out with nothing, Dean sends him to Benny, only then when he goes to check in with them, they’re bffs now and have all these inside jokes and references and suddenly Dean is the third wheel in this trio, and Benny keeps flirting shamelessly with Cas, and Dean’s kind of losing his mind a little because, like, are they fucking?? except then Benny’s like, ‘Cas, you better get home and get ready for your date,’ and Dean’s like, ‘You’re letting him date??!?’ and Benny’s like, ‘Letting him? I’m not his mom? Also why do you care?’ (but he’s also smirking because he knows exactly why Dean cares) and Dean just mumbles something about a murderous reaper, ANYWAY, later after Cas turns into an angel again, Benny goes to live in Garth’s Nice Werewolf Town, and then Garth names his twins Castiel and Benny, and post-series Dean and Cas get married and then Dean and Benny open a bar together and everyone’s happy THE END.

#benny lafitte #supernatural #benny and garth would have been besties and you can't change my mind #but also benny would have been so good to human!cas #they had to kill benny because otherwise he would have become bffs with everyone and that made him too powerful #omg benny and charlie! they would adore each other!!#benny and donna! benny and jody! benny and claire!

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fucktheroyals · 3 years

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You know after reading and reading and reading peoples theories and the meta from before the spn finale aired and the meta writers reactions to the finale I think I have a theory of my own. We don't have any answers tho, so this is pure speculation. If you wanna add something to support or discredit any of this that's cool but there's too many things floating around. Know I dont have proof for this conclusion at all. A lot of what I say is just guesses based on previous facts.

This all came together in my head when I realized how much this finale REEKS of the original producers and who the show was originally for. It REEKS of Robert Singer. Like if the execs started saying they didn't want it, Robert Singer was the one pushing that the story was about the brothers. That kinda thing.

Then, I was thinking of the problems in this episode and it struck me these are all of Supernatural biggest issues and to be honest all of it feels completely deliberate.

Take the sexism for example, Supernatural in it's later seasons largely out grew this, we have Jody, Rowena, Donna, Charlie, Mary, Claire (and even a wayward sisters pilot with MORE women/girls) all making regular appearances. They're mainly good characters and mostly aren't there to hurt our boys. Rowena, of course, is the one outlier being very about herself but it's clear she still cares for them, I mean its part of her development. But they're all real, with character flaws just like everyone else. (And we have Death too and she was POC 😭 THANK GOD)

Now look at the earlier half of Spn, we have Ellen and Jo, who's appearances were far in between. There's Bela in season 3, recurring for quite a bit (5 eps), but she is a character that is only there for herself, definitely not found family (unlike Ellen & Jo), and she's got more episodes in season 3 than Ellen and Jo in season 2 who aren't seen again til season 5. The "fans" send in hate mail after hate mail to try to get these characters off, and eventually they are. Then there's Ruby who's character stayed for a whole two seasons and was a largely recurring character. Why does she get to say so long? She's a plot device. She's supposed to be there to betray Sam. She has to stay (plus Jared obviously likes her). But she's not just a character the writers like writing about. Same with Lilith. Obviously not as recurring but still a plot device. Did they get hate mail tho? You can bet on it. Why? because tHeY'rE gOnNa PuSh ThE bOyS (Dean and Sam) aPaRt ThE sHoW iS aBoUt ThE bOyS oNlY. Without even thinking about the hate mail, just notice how large the difference is from how women are seen in the earlier seasons to the later seasons. Misha got tons of hate mail too for being a character that could split up the boys (probably only being allowed to say because he a man, thanks sexist producers and execs).

Only after Castiel was killed off and then Castiel fans successfully (thank you guys) got him back on the show did the hate mail largely simmer, which means female character's were allowed to stay! Which has lead us to a show with a good amount of female characters. But can you imagine having to kill characters off time and time again because people keep complaining that the show is "only about the boys." Fun times really.

So now we get to this final and we see sexism. But it wasn't just the plain old regular sexism you find in the earlier days of spn. Because now, there ARE women to talk about, talk to. But this episode was DESOLATE women wise, unless they were used for plot (which is also sexist!). Small scenes, they're barely there. Women gets her tongue cut out. Random women from s1 gets killed. Sam doesn't SPEAK of Eileen. Nothing. No mention of any female characters from the boys mouths unless they were from/in this episode itself. That's WIERD. I know we've all said it. But that goes beyond forgetting about characters. I mean its SAM'S GIRLFRIEND for Christ's sake. There is NO REASON they couldn't have said Eileen's name. Notice how Sam's wife is just... faceless. This is literally an age old sexist trope. Like... one of the things about bringing Mary back to life for s12+ is that it takes this trope... of basically a generic mother, and gives her life and feelings, whether you like them or not, they're real feelings. They said Mary isn't just a mom she's a person. Mary's existence in the later half of spn is to fix this kind of female tropes that fall upon her character, to not let these her stay a 2 dimensional character. They said we should know she's more than just the mom who tried to save her kid. Do that is the exact opposite of Sam getting a nameless, faceless wife. The sexism of the old spn wasn't just brought back, it was completely amplified. It wasn't just accidental or some exec "fixing" the story it was DELIBRATE. Whoever wrote that, didn't do ALL OF THAT by accident. Because an exec or a producer who doesn't see the flaws in old supernatural isn't going to write it that deliberately.

Let's bring it back to s10 when Charlie was killed (singer was mainly to blame). Dead in the bathtub, age old classic of burying ur gays. If you were here you know people never let Supernatural live that down. THEY KNOW what bury ur gays means. Hell, Robbie Thompson left because of Charlie's death and you think the writers don't know what it means? I mean both Bobo Berens (especially) and Steve Yockey's careers are centered around LGBT+ storytelling and you think they don't know? They know. They know.

And Dean wasn't just apart of the bury your gays trope, it is so far BEYOND that. Dean being killed on a rusty nail/screw, the tongues ripped out, things that seemed to be meant for other people. Jensen's acting in the last two episodes was giving us "DEAN RECIPROCATES" but no one ever actually saying it. I think it's clear that Dean was killed for being Bi. They didn't address it for a reason, they just silenced him. His narrative was supposed to be about letting him be HIM for the first time, to say what his feelings are instead of having them miscommunicated, and instead of doing that, they just silenced him. And the more we look at this scene the more horrific it gets. The more it's a complete slap in the face and it's supposed to be. Some guy who knows nothing about the LGBT can't write a scene this horrific.

Some guy who knows nothing about Dean couldn't write a scene that deconstructs all of Dean's character development and gives Dean his worst nightmare. I MEAN DEAN WANTED TO LIVE HIS LIFE! THEY DIDNT HIDE THAT JOB APPLICATION (or whatever job related thing that was) IN THERE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES THEY WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST SITUATION. Dean isn't Barney from HIMYM. If you watched HIMYM then you'll know Barney went from being a stereotypical ladies man and treating women terribly to being in love with a women and treating her right and working hard for it. The last episode of HIMYM (why its so bad) Barney's character development is thrown out and he's back to being a stereotypical ladies man. You don't need to know Barney's character very much to do that.

To kill Dean during a hunt his father never finished, to not have anyone at his funeral, to have Dean die young like his life didn't matter. Those are Dean's worst fears and you'd only truly know that if you watched the gin episode in s3, where they are basically laid out for you. You HAVE to know Dean's character to tear him apart like this.

This episode took all the core elements of the show and did a complete 180° the name of the episode itself is "Carry on" and Dean and Sam very much did not carry on. Sam grieving his entire life so that he good get to heaven and see Dean again. Dean being ready to live his life, despite the enormous pitfalls and learning to love himself only to be killed. "Family don't end with blood." Um.... it did in that episode either literally with Dean's death or you know BECAUSE NONE OF THEIR FOUND FAMILY WAS THERE. Not Jack, Not Cas, Not Eileen, Not Donna, Not Charlie, Not Jody, Not Claire... on and on we go. No one was there, nobody was even mentioned. Dean's funeral, no one even called that we know of. It was just Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean. And Bobby. Don't forget Bobby. But yeah Sam and Dean.

That's what the show is about right, the brothers.

Except it's not anymore. It hasn't been for years.

Cas not being there was deafening but it brought us to a major point. Becky. Becky's telling us about the terrible ending.

And many of us are wondering why would they literally tell us this is the worst ending and then... make it the ending.

Now before we move on, it very apparent many of you think Dabb doesn't ship Deancas. And Dabb doesn't care about the characters.

Say what you will about any plot holes in his writing, the point he is VERY GOOD at writing the characters, and giving us good ones.

Why do we know Dabb ships Deancas? (ill say when its cowrote, other wise its not) cowrote ep 8.02 - purgatory "I prayed to you, Cas, every night" "Cas, Buddy, I need you." "I have a price on my head, and I've been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you." 8.08 Hunteri Heroici - Cas helps them hunt! 😊❤ Dean & Cas have a serious convo about why Cas doesn't want to see/go to heaven. 8.22 Dean's mad at Cas. Sam's explanation of why Dean should be easy on Cas: "It's Cas." Dean then points out how he'd knife anybody else if they did what Cas did. 9.10 - Cas comforts Dean when Dean can't take seeing Sam (Gadreel) being tortured anymore. Also tons of Cas. 9.20 (bloodlines) - Canonical couple parallel "I was there, where were you" 9.22 The angels make Cas choose between them and killing Dean and he "gave up an entire army for one guy" 10.09 Claire's reintroduction. Cas heavy ep. DeanCas date. 10.22 THE PRISONER - u know the ep where Dean beats the shit out of Cas but loves him enough to not kill him.

We COULD keep going but I think I've made my point. If Robert Singer is the guy that is like "the show is about Sam and Dean only" Andrew Dabb is the DeanCas shipper. And you could even say a Cas stan.

Notice! How in s13 for SEVEN episodes we have a story that revolves around Dean's grief about losing Cas. Notice! How often the stories in all these seasons have a focus on their relationship. THAT is Andrew Dabb. If it weren't for him doing that, we wouldn't be able to easily say after Dean's lack of a response to Cas' confession, that Dean reciprocates.

To me, when I was (binge) watching s12 for the first time, I thought damn this is really got a lot of DeanCas. So I went to look at who was in charge, who was writing. I saw Andrew Dabb, associated him with Deancas episodes, saw all the new writers, Bobo, and then I saw that Yockey is known for same sex stories and it clicked. Dabb assembled a team to give us Destiel. THAT WAS IN SEASON 12!!!!!!!!

The amount of people saying he's homophobic flabbergast me. Open your eyes! That isn't what's going on.

Imagine making a show and trying to right all the wrongs of Supernatural. Imagine trying to write the greatest love story ever told and you have the entire season planned out for it to end off beautifully, it may possibly be your greatest achievement when it's done and then boom. someone comes in and tells you you aren't allowed to make Dean bi or make destiel endgame, after he was most probably already given the go ahead.

Sure. You could imply he's bi or into cas still in a way. Still make nice-ish ending. just give everyone what the kinda want.

Or you could scrap the last season, nothing close to a canonical bisexual Dean Winchester or Deancas endgame in site. People can be done with it be happy with the show, continue to live their lives in ignorance as to how close they were to Canon destiel.

OR you can lead everyone to the very closest you can get them to what you were aiming for and then show everyone the ugly truth and reality. Light it all on fire. Burn the show to the ground in your wake. Try your darnedest to making these people's (the people saying no) pockets suffer. Show us, the audience, what happened. Show us what this show really is.

I've seen people talk about the ending being changed during covid but I dont think that happened. I think what happened was Dabb already had this season planned out before it even started. Obviously the details were wobbly but it was all lead up to this ending. Destiel endgame, Canon Bisexual Dean, whatever it was. They were ready to write the greatest love story ever told and then someone shut it down.

Imagine the pain that must have caused them to be told no when they already said yes. They must have been so excited to give this to us.

I think someone (some producers) told him what this show is "really" about. The brothers. Can you imagine, after being told no, some kinda bullshit like this is said to you: "Why aren't you bringing it back to the brothers, Andrew? that's what the shows about. What with all this homosexual stuff, you know the audience won't like that. Not really." Imagine the original producers pushing this kind of view on you. "You know when we started it was Sam and Dean. It should end with Sam and Dean." That kinda sounds like someone huh? huh.

So why give us a nice acceptable finale, when you can take every problem Supernatural's had either up front or behind the scenes and create a finale so incredibly bad that people don't want to watch it anymore.

Someone made a good point about how Sam was originally supposed to be the main focus (this isn't to put any hate on Sam or Jared). Dean and Sam are the main characters but Sam was supposed to be the focus and for Dean to have become the focus, must have annoyed the producers because... well here we are. They wouldn't listen to Jensen. The producers liked this ending. Jensen's opinion didn't matter to them.

In some ways, if this is really what happened, it can be seen as childish from Dabb. To hurt all of us like that. Yes, he's hurting the producers, the execs, the cw. But to hurt us? Yeah it stings.

But in other ways, if this is really what happened, this is Dabb showing us the muck and gunk under the shiny surface. The hate for Misha. The hidden hate for Jensen. The underlying sexism. The underlying homophobia. The people REALLY in charge don't care about us, they just want our money. He needed to open our eyes and free us, at least free the people that he was writing for. The people he sees that care about this show.

This is the ending the powers that be wanted and its a big fuck you for a reason. I dont think this is Dabb spitting in our faces for loving this show, I think this is him trying to get revenge for us.

But from here, you can see it how u want it. If this is really what happened, I'm not in charge of your emotions, if you wanna be mad be mad if you wanna be grateful be grateful. And you don't have to believe me either I said this is speculation.

Also, as for all of the rumors like there being shots to the confession scene that we didn't see, which Jensen himself implied, I think that might have been a last ditch effort to canonized DeanCas but obviously it was cut. Like the name change was pretty clear. As for Misha possibly having shot some stuff for 20 I dont know what to tell you. If it's true I dont know where the blame would lie.

I do think however, that if all this was the case, the writers were prepared to become villians here. I mean they told us the writers were villians with Chuck right? So. Who knows what went down so they could give us such a vile ending. It could've been the producers or the writers, who truly knows. I do think tho that people we "trust" did some pretty shitty things to push the narrative in certain directions so now one would see this as the actual ending that was coming.

So again do with my SPECULATION what you will. This was in no way meant to put Dabb on a pedestal or anything. Just meant to give a bit of perspective.

(Also Jensen didn't unfollow Dabb recently he was already unfollowed for years)

#15x20 wank #spn finale wank #spn finale meta #15x20 meta #Andrew Dabb #spn #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #misha collins #jensen ackles #long post #sorry im on mobile #this is the longest post i have ever writen

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bippityboppitybibuck · 3 years

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@valleydean As of the start of writing this it's nearly 3:30 in the morning, I am almost exactly 13 hours away from the minute I was born on this day 23 years ago and I am awake thinking about Dean fucking Winchester so here you go. As a weird birthday gift from me to you on my birthday, I present mild angst but also of course fluff. By the time you get this my birth minute will have passed and I will be 23 ((oh my god just like Dean and Cas AGS.)) As with all of my ags posting this contains spoilers for the story, you’ve been warned!!

Dean’s 27th birthday snuck up on him. Well, as much as a date that comes around every year without fail can sneak up on a person who also has a solid five people clamouring to remind him. Somehow even Jack memorized the date after he heard Cas talk about it one time years ago and now the kid won’t stop bringing it up, which yeah is cute as hell but also Dean’s never been one to make a big deal of his birthdays before.

But 27 fucks him up. And hard.

He’s officially lived longer than Dean Wesson did, which sure, he technically did when he made it to the end of December, but the milestone feels bigger now that he’s 27. He’s 27. Dean’s never been 27 before because Dean Wesson never made it to 27.

It shouldn't mean anything, Dean Wesson is as much him as he is, even more so now that there’s no door keeping the memories from the light of day, but as he'd watched the clock flick from 11:59 to 12:00 with Cas beside him ready to give him his first of 27 birthday kisses something within him had felt morosely finalized.

A chapter closed, one that he’ll never be able to reopen the same way he did the first time around. Dean Wesson’s story is over. Dean Wesson’s story is his, but a part of it, the largest, hell only, part of that story came to a close when those red numbers switched over.

He doesn't know what to feel. He doesn’t know how to feel the loss, he died so young, he died with so much life still to live, he died and left Sam to live his decades out alone. He was young.

It never registered, even back then, how young he was, and he’s sure that with every birthday he has going forward that feeling is only going to get worse.

He and Charlie spent the Halloween of their 21st year watching the clock in a similar way. Waiting for the moment they lived longer than the Potter’s did - Charlie's idea that Dean went along with without putting up a fight - and it felt like this did. A shock to the system, a race won that you hadn’t known you were running. The realization that they were barely adults and now you are there living past what they ever got to.

Except, this time, it’s him he outlived. He outlived himself. It’s different for Cas, or at least Dean thinks it is, because there was never that separation, that differentiation within Cas of his two lives because there was no distinct difference when it came to his knowledge and understanding of his old life - and therefore no disconnect from himself in that way. Cas’ disconnect came in another way but Cas has already outlived himself sorta… it’s hard for Dean to tell when technically Cas has only really been alive for a short time but still was resurrected at the age he died at. Either way, Cas never made a fuss about being older than his past self.

The clock reads 12:02 now, Cas is sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his middle and Dean can’t think of what to say. 27 isn't a big birthday milestone, there's no grand party waiting for him with cards that list his age or balloons or any of the hooplas that 30 or 50 gets but this birthday feels more momentous than any he’s had or will ever have. He just doesn’t know how to deal with that yet, so he just goes and grabs it all right by the horns.

“I’m older than he was,” he says into the stillness of the dark room.

“Who? - oh, yes I suppose you are,” Cas responds, dropping his chin against Dean’s shoulder and resting it there.

“You never loved me at 27 before, is it any different?” There's a fear there he can’t name, something brought forth from etches in his bones that whisper that Cas may never love him like he did Dean Wesson, shared memories be damned, years spent together be damned.

“Mhmm, no it’s not, I love you all the same. Maybe even a little more now. A little more love with every year we get together that we never got before. Also, I’m loving you right now, that counts as loving you at 27 doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” He drops his head back against Cas’ shoulder, their cheeks brushing gently together with the ebb and flow of their breathing.

“Do you feel any different?” Cas asks lightly, tentatively, as though he knows Dean is struggling with this new reality.

“Outrageously so. But I couldn’t begin to tell you why. There's just this thought that he’s not there anymore, he doesn’t have any side-by-side memories now. I don’t have any memories anymore… I sorta got used to them always being there, following me through the things I experienced in real time. But now I’m going to do things and I won’t be able to think back to what I did before. He’s not felt so separate since before Dorthey and the manor and I don’t really know what to make of it.”

“You know you can mourn him Dean. That is allowed. You can mourn that loss of yourself. Grieve for the future you didn’t get before.”

“But why should I? I mean I’m here now, with you, Sam, Mom, Charlie, Kelly and Jack too even if they are thousands of miles away. I’m getting to live, I’m getting my future and Dean Wesson is getting it too because he’s me, I’m him. I just - he feels disjointed within me now and I want the peace back but I don’t know how I’ll ever manage to get it when from here on out Dean Wesson stops being there alongside Dean Winchester. I’m moving away from him and like everything that dies, he’s stuck perpetually at 26. He’s stuck and I have to leave him behind.”

Something thick coats his throat with the words, a darkness that seeps in and threatens to choke him if he’s not careful. Grief is such a finicky thing.

“You don’t have to Dean, same as you don’t have to leave your middle school self behind or your pre my resurrection self behind. It’s all you in there still. You get to pick what you carry with you for the rest of your life. If you don’t want to leave that part of yourself in your past, then don’t and keep it with you.”

Dean’s quiet for a while, thinking about a lot of shit, including how the hell Cas managed to get so good at this shit, because that little speech would put Dr. Phil to shame in an instant. But then of course Cas would probably have had to do the very thing he’s telling Dean now.

“Do you remember how we spent my first 25th birthday?” Dean asks.

“Hmm, I do, and I gotta say the frozen ass I got from the fence was completely worth it.”

Dean huffs a laugh into the darkness, picking his head up from Cas’ shoulder as he asks, “Do you think that for the first birthday he won’t have we could do that again? Fly back to Amherst, maybe see Kelly and Jack too?”

“Absolutely, but no smoking this time, even if I did get a rise out of you back then.”

“You bastard, I knew that was intentional!”

“You caught me,” Cas says, the phrase all but dripping in sarcasm. “Jack will be thrilled to see us again, Kelly too.”

He smiles picturing it. Cas playing with Jack, running around the backyard of the duplex Kelly bought only a year ago, smiles wide, Jack’s blonde hair sticking haphazardly out of his puffball touque, Cas’ hair tucked into a hat he’ll surely steal from Dean. Their joyful shouts echoing around them all. So like they used to all those years ago when Jack was barely five, and now he’s almost double digits and Dean can’t remember the years flying by until he looked back and they were already so securely in the rearview.

“I’m old now,” Dean says a little while later.

“If it makes you feel any better, regardless of what that fake ID you made says, my birth year is technically 1845 so… I’ve got you beat in the old age department.”

“Oh Cas, you don’t look a day over a hundred and twenty, you’re fine,” Dean jokes, Cas’ light mood rubbing off on him.

Dean gets a pinch to the ribs in retaliation and awards Cas an indignant squawk and a begrudgingly given laugh before he settles back against him, his eyes slipping closed though he wants not for sleep.

“What should we do now, I’m not particularly tired, and I feel certain in assuming that you aren’t either,” Cas murmurs lowly, breath dusting the shell of his ear soothingly.

“I dunno, maybe we should just keep sitting here,” Dean says, a memory playing behind his closed eyelids. In the heat of the room, frozen air bites at his skin just as it did back then.

Cas answers this time around, but instead of using words he pulls Dean in for a kiss - the second of his 27 birthday kisses - and within that press of lips Dean knows he remembers too.

Their skin pressed firmly together, neither move, their eyes kept forward, staring through the window at the still portrait of the winter stars.

#ags #a ghost story #destiel #destiel ficlet #my writing #ags ficlet #its my birthday and i am thinking about the sadness of birthdays no longer celebrated #valleydean #read the og story for real tho #you will not regret it

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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

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CHAPTER ONE OF FOR THE SUMMER IS UP AND YOU CAN READ IT HERE AHHHHHH

I decided to be nice and give a sneaky peek, even though the first two scenes are based on ficlets I posted here!

“Where’s Sam and Cas?” Dean asks, coming down the stairs into the kitchen and yawning. Mary is sitting at the table, already dressed, reading the newspaper.

“At the library,” she replies. “There’s leftover waffles in the warming drawer.”

“Thanks.” Dean walks around the table to hug his mom. “Didn’t they go to the library last week?”

Mary peers up at him. “Well, they can go again.”

“Ha.” Dean eats breakfast, goes through his morning routine, and then digs his bike out of the garage. It’s not too hot today--soon it’ll be too sweltering to enjoy this, so he decides to make the most of it.

Even so, Dean is sweating by the time he gets to the library, and he lifts up his shirt to wipe his face with it before walking into the cool air of the public library.

It’s harder to find his brother and his...Cas? (They need to talk about that, don’t they--but Dean is terrified, because sure, he dated in high school, but he’s never had anyone like Cas before and screwing it up would be...well, he’s not going to think about that) than Dean expected. They’re not in the adult section (Cas loves trashy mystery novels) or hiding in the sci-fi (which is where Dean would be) or using the computers or trawling through the non-fiction.

Instead, they’re in the children’s room.

next chapter up WEDNESDAY!

#destiel #for the summer #sonic college au #college au #AH

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

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Closets & Wendy’s.

“Last day of Pride!”

Dean projects himself onto Cas’s bed, ending up sprawled on his front, with an arm slung over Cas’s lap.

On receiving no more greeting than Cas’s hand landing in his hair and starting to card through it, he lifts his face from the comforter, props himself up on his elbows - chin tucked in a palm - and stares at his boyfriend.

Cas looks upset.

The corners of his lips tilt passively downwards, eyebrows carrying most of the weight of his frown.

“Cas?” Dean asks, neutrally - already regretting his overhyped entrance.

“I’m sorry- I don't feel -”

Words fade out, and Cas pauses. Then he turns to actually look at Dean, the sadness seeped into his eyes, and Dean doesn’t waste a moment getting up, knee-waddling over into Cas’s space and pulling him close.

Cas comes easily, planting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and exhaling a tired breath when Dean runs a hand over his back.

“What are you feeling?” Dean asks, after a beat, now trying to soothe Cas’s tense shoulders, rubbing gently over the cotton. Cas leans into his touch.

About three years of therapy, and nearly six years of being roommates - undergrads, and then actual friggin’ grad school - with Cas, basically Dean’s personal mascot for healthy communication, has led him to definitely know that it’s always a better alternative to talk about what you are going through, instead of what you aren’t.

(Or, you know, what you think you should be, just because your dumb, insensitive boyfriend who’s been obsessed with Pride since finally coming out and-slash-or best-friending up with Charlie Bradbury, is. And rather loudly, at that, because Dean Winchester’s a goddamn idiot.)

“Disappointment.” Cas says, morosely, but almost as soon as he hears his own words, he rephrases. “Uh. I’m the disappointment.”

“Well, did you secretly sneak out and mark yourself absent for the entire semester in all your 4.0 GPA classes when I wasn’t looking?”

“Dean.”

“Fine, 3.7.” Dean throws back. “Big friggin’ deal, nerd.” Cas lets out a huff of breath which almost resembles a chuckle, and Dean squeezes his arm around Cas. “You know that would’ve totally been a four if I’d been less distracting.”

“Interesting.” Cas corrects.

“Hot.” Dean throws back, just because he knows it’ll make Cas crinkle into one of his fond ‘what-do-I-do-with-you’ smiles. It does.

“Perfect.” And Cas throws in a sigh, as if to solidify his point, and leans in to nuzzle Dean’s neck in a way so intensely Cas, that if anyone else had ever tried it, he’d either end up being tickled to death, or running the hell out of dodge.

“We’re on you right now, Cheesy McCheesington.” Dean smiles back, and goes on.

He’s not willing to let Cas close up into a ball of repressed emotions with happy only on the outside. That’s way more Dean’s thing - or rather, used to be. He knows he’s bettered his coping mechanisms. Mostly because every part of his life involves Cas now, and anything with Cas is good.

They’ve grown a lot together - grown through a lot as well, and this is how they’ve done it. By talking through, the Castiel way. It still throws Dean off sometimes, how far they’ve gotten.

So when Cas whines in protest into Dean’s shirt, he knows exactly how to turn it into a side-hug. One of those, where they end up staring at each other from a three-inch distance.

Staring hard, Dean says it. “You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Cas. To anyone.”

The lecturers all adored him, their friends made it a point to keep proclaiming their affection out loud (thank god for Charlie Bradbury and co.), and Dean doesn’t think he could be more proud of Cas if he tried.

He was a goddamn wonder.

He’d gone from a lanky, private-schooled, what’s-a-Star-War schmuck to one of Dean’s favorite people in the world. He was hilarious, and a genius, and kind. He’d grown into his shoulders, and into a stubbly kind of an age, and into this awesome, intelligent, pancake-making man of Dean’s dreams, and into his bee obsessions and organizational neatness - and complete, total perfection.

(Dean needs him, appreciates him, and (not that subtly - to his credit), loves him in a forever sort of way.)

But before Dean’s properly began to remind Cas of any of it, he’s interrupted.

“I’m disappointing me, Dean.”

There’s resignation in his tone, and evidence in every word he says.

“June’s over. Again. And for all the marching with painted cheeks and the megaphones? For all the parades, and the celebrations of our identities, the togetherness, the being proud of being ourselves?” Cas lets out, bitterly, and Dean realizes he knows where Cas is going with this. “And I still haven’t come out to my family.”

Dean waits, sure that Cas isn’t finished.

“How have I not done it yet?” Cas hisses, and it almost startles him - he’s swapped the upset for angry. It’s rarer. “I’ve known since I was a teenager - and we’ll have been together for five years in three months, Dean, and I just - I cannot believe I still can’t do it.”

He sounds helpless, and Dean wants to jump in, but he needs Cas to get the words out first.

“What’s the matter with me? Am I not brave enough, or strong enough - or am I still hanging onto the hope that they’ll suddenly become better human beings and not disown me when I tell them?” Cas scoffs.

He’s pissed at himself.

“Maybe I still lack, as you say, free will.”

Dean has to step in at that. “That was six years ago, and you know I wouldn’t say it now.”

“Why not?” Cas challenges. “I couldn’t tell them then, either. I clearly haven’t changed.”

“Other things, Cas.” Dean says, and grits his teeth. This isn’t supposed to be them yelling. Cas is frustrated, and Dean’s listening - he can’t be frustrated back at him for the way he expresses it. “Other things have changed.”

Cas gives him a look, but Dean holds his end of it until it crumbles. Cas changes his offense. Mellows down - probably when he sees Dean’s restraint. “This is important to me. I want to do it. Then why can’t I tell them?”

He’s asking himself, but he’s also asking the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself, yet he’s also not asking at all - simultaneously, it’s also rhetorical.

Dean licks his lips.

“Whatever be the answer to that, Cas, first things first. This doesn’t imply you’re not proud enough.”

Cas looks away.

“Or, for that matter, not panromantic or demisexual enough.”

Sigh. Shuffle, shift. And then he looks back up at Dean. The tears weren’t there before. “How do you know, Dean?”

“‘Cause I know this doesn’t decide that.”

“Why not?” Cas says, quietly.

“‘Cause,” He repeats. “How queer you are isn’t measured on a scale of how soon you come out once you know.” He pauses, judges the air. “It usually isn’t measured at all, unless we’re talking about a magical thing known as the Kinsey Scale.”

He judged right.

Cas coughs, and it’s definitely to disguise a reluctant snicker.

“And you know, even if it were measured on the weird first thing,” Dean adds, serious again. “There’d totally be a different clause, and a separate key, mind you, for the people with douchebag families.”

“They prefer conservative, I think.” Cas says, smally, after an entire minute, as if he’d actually been rerunning Dean’s speech in his head for that long.

Dean shrugs.

Cas almost smiles. He’s calmed down.

“The strange thing is that it makes no sense.” He begins, heavy, albeit less severe on himself. “I’m twenty six. We co-own this apartment, and we pay our bills. We’re completely independent.” It never stops sounding surreal. That’s for another time. “Mother calls me on third Sundays, Gabriel sends Christmas cards. Other than that, I only spend Thanksgiving lunches with them, each year more horrible than the last. I know I wouldn’t miss any of them, nor regret being written out of the will. Or have my Novak cemetery spot passed onto Michael’s oldest. Or the gardener.”

Dean snorts at that. The Novaks are truly something else.

“There is no reason I can’t just come out. I just -” Cas cuts into his own sentence with a sigh, one signifying that he’s finally done speaking, and he reclaims Dean’s shoulder once more.

What’s important right now, is to make him feel better. A resolution to this isn’t within grasp at the moment, and Cas sounds drained. Dean - well, he does what he does best. He segues.

“Wait.” Cas lifts his head. “You didn’t actually say you’re not out, did you?”

Cas squints at him.

“Dude. Being out doesn’t just mean telling your family. And getting subjected to toxicity and trauma, by means of it.” Dean points out, earnest. By that logic, courtesy of a long-dead mom, and a relatively-shorter-dead dad, he’s in the closet as well. “Hell, you put your hand in my back pocket at KFC, yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks.

Dean grins, and Cas’s surprise makes it easy to do so. “You bet my publicly grabbed ass, it counts.”

Cas knows it counts. He knows everything that counts. But he indulges himself, and he indulges Dean - his bad mood slowly dissipating. “What else?”

“You kissed me at Wendy’s last week.” Dean informs him, eyebrows raised. “Held my hand for a really long time in a Starbucks queue on Saturday. Oh, and all the gay bars count, buddy. Especially the bits where we grind on the dance floor, and then I blow you in the stall.”

Cas opens his mouth to protest that has only happened once, but Dean meets his eyes with a pointed look. He’s got to bring it up.

“Every time I’ve ever taken you to a steak joint counts too. ‘Cause trust me, those are always dates, whether you know it or not.”

“Long drives are a date to you.” Cas deadpans.

“Yeah, and Baby will never say you’re not out.” Dean throws back, and Cas actually makes it to a smile this time. Dean’s left feeling accomplished. (And sort of dazed, because it’s going to take a lot more than six years for him to get used to Cas being so easily beautiful, and being it right next to him.)

“You said you loved me for the first time at the Roadhouse.” Cas says.

Dean blushes.

“And then you ran away before I could react, got really drunk and karaoke’d I’m Too Sexy on the stage, and passed out on my lap right as I tried to say it back to you.”

This is definitely not his favorite story, but it always lights Cas up, and that’s all that matters, really - so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly and Cas smiles wider.

Silence prevails for a moment.

“Look.” Dean ends up being the one to break it. Cas listens, hanging onto each word. “You’re the only one who knows why you can’t do it, okay? My best guess would be an internalized decision to avoid conflict. Maybe you call your old therapist tomorrow - like, I dunno, a cameo from Castiel, unresolved coming-out issues sorta thing. Of course, we can talk about it too. Get six cheeseburgers and twelve beers, and figure things out on your own. But it’s up to you.” Cas exhales into a little smile. “All I know is, it doesn’t matter to anyone that you haven’t told your family, if it doesn’t matter to you.

Cas nods, a couple of times, and there’s the barest hint of tears again, but this time doesn’t make Dean want to punch God.

It makes him want to hug Cas, so he goes for it.

“Even if you were in the closet, Cas? I’d say the same.” Dean adds, as an afterthought, about a minute into a hug which doesn’t seem to be nearing an end. Not really. No one minds, so there’s that. “This community, this month - everything about Pride is about all of us, and if Charlie’s ever called me handmaiden, trust me she’s said this a million times. It means everyone. Includes people in the closet, every bit as those who’re out.”

Cas hums in agreement, and tilts his head against Dean’s.

“In any case,” Dean teases. “Your family’s over in Illinois, anyways. Here, where it counts? You’re as out as you can be.”

“I could kiss you in more Wendy’s.” Cas contemplates, because he’s awesome like that.

“What has Burger King ever done to you?”

Dean listens to him considering it with a thoughtful note, and mutters a “Dork.” It helps keep him grounded for he feels like he’s floating right now - ‘cause there’s something about the way Cas holds onto him. Tighter.

Like somehow, even after all this time, they managed to fall a little more in love today.

And somehow, they’ll keep doing it forever.

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

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Not Your Average Love Story (SPN x CM)

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~3490

Warnings: Show-level violence, but that’s about it! It’s bizarrely fluffy.

A/N: My first square for @cmbingo: “meet the parents.” This is essentially a rewrite of Supernatural 12x01, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” except Spencer and Sam are adorable dorky murder boyfriends.

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-through!

When Spencer realizes he’s in love with Sam, he’s on a plane, hoping to make it to Kansas before the sun goes dark.

He looks out the window at the too-orange light, thinking, this is a weird twist for a love story. He turns that thought over in his mind and realizes: love.

Oh.

It takes him by surprise, for some reason, but only for a second. He’s starting to get used to surprises.

* * *

Spencer has always been self-aware enough to realize that his intellect and his lack of social skills would not make it easy to strike up a traditional relationship. Then, of course, you factor in his obsessive tendencies, his attachment issues, and the stresses of his job, and it’s not actually surprising that he made it past the age of thirty before he fell in love for the first time. Considering how that ended, it’s definitely a surprise — if not a minor miracle — that he’s made it this far with Sam.

Then again, nothing about their relationship has been predictable. Spencer never guessed he’d meet his future partner while dissecting a dessicated brain.

Ever since Spencer Reid met Sam Winchester, his life has been one surprise after another.

* * *

The third unanswered call makes him nervous, but he figures Sam must be asleep, or at least he should be asleep. If Spencer finds himself doing ninety mph in his tiny rental car, it’s mostly because Kansas highways don’t seem to follow the usual laws of physics. They’re flat and endless and eerie in the grey pre-dawn light.

The moment he opens the door, Spencer knows something is wrong. He spares a wishful thought for his Kevlar, and then he draws his gun, falling automatically into the too-familiar stance as he silently descends the stairs.

There’s blood on the floor.

This doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

* * *

Spencer tends to spend a lot of time visualizing hypothetical problems and their solutions. He’s good at imagining all the potential outcomes of a particular scenario and calculating their likelihoods based on given variables. He frequently does this at night, instead of sleeping.

In other words, he worries a lot.

If he were in a normal relationship he would probably worry about normal things. For example: whether Spencer was misreading the situation, whether it was okay to run a thorough background check on them, and what to wear on a date. What would their first argument be about? What would their parents think of him? What would his mom think of them?

About thirty-six hours after they met, Sam saved Spencer’s mom from a wraith; first impressions don’t get much better than that.

The normal worries were rapidly eclipsed by Sam-specific worries. For example: what if he got cursed, what if he got possessed, and were there angels or demons after him this week. Why couldn’t Dean either drive a little slower or get a car with less antiquated safety features? How would Spencer help if Sam got hurt on the job? Should he tell the B.A.U. what he’s been learning about the supernatural?

He does end up telling them everything; Sam and Dean show up at a crime scene, Hotch almost arrests them, and it turns out that one of the serial killers they’ve been hunting for a decade is actually a skinwalker.

But the point is that when Spencer sees blood on the floor, he isn’t surprised. He’s visualized this scenario — and several hundred variations on it — before.

* * *

He hears a raised voice in the library and takes the steps two at a time. There are two complete strangers there, a blonde woman aiming a gun at a man, and Spencer’s training kicks in before he can figure out why she looks familiar.

“Federal agent, hands in the air,” he barks.

He can see the split-second when the woman thinks about turning her gun on him, but she seems to think better of it, and she sets the gun down slowly before putting her hands in the air.

“Who are you?” the man demands. “What did you do with Sam?”

“What — Sam?” Spencer asks, panic rising in his throat. “Spencer Reid, FBI. Who —”

“You’re Spencer?” he asks, brow furrowed.

Spencer realizes: “You’re Castiel.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, gun down,” Dean interrupts. “It’s okay! She’s okay, Spence!”

“Dean? You’re alive?” Castiel grabs him before he can say anything else.

Spencer lowers his gun slowly. He’s starting to hyperventilate. He wants to know how Dean is still alive, yes, but he’s watching the way they embrace, the smile on Cas’s face and the way Dean’s shoulders seem to drop like he’s relaxing for the first time in a long time, and all he can think about is —

“Can somebody tell me where the hell Sam is?” Spencer asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“He’s not here,” Castiel says.

The woman looks between Cas and Spencer, eyes wide, and it’s not clear who she’s talking to when she asks, “Who are you?”

“He’s my —” Dean starts.

Cas cuts him off by saying, “He’s Sam’s —” at the same time Spencer blurts out, “He’s an angel.”

“Come again?” the woman asks, and when she sees the way Dean shifts nervously, she adds, “Not that, I don’t care about — you said angel?”

“Angel. You know. Wings, harp.”

“Not actually,” Spencer tells her, just as Cas scowls and says, “No, I don’t have a harp.”

“Cas, Spencer,” Dean says, and he pauses, swallowing hard. “This is Mary. Mary Winchester.”

Spencer and Cas speak in unison again, Cas in a gruff monotone as Spencer’s voice goes squeaky: “Your mother?”

Of all the things Spencer has worried about, he never thought he would never have to worry about making a bad first impression on Sam’s parents. Sam’s parents are dead.

Except… apparently not. Apparently Sam’s mom has been resurrected, and Spencer just pulled a gun on her.

“Nice to meet you,” Mary says softly, with a tentative smile.

For a second he freezes, staring at her, and his mind starts racing, recalculating, replanning, getting his worrying done after the fact, and Spencer has no idea what to say. He never made a plan for this.

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, flushing. “Um. Sorry about that.”

“I’d have done the same thing if I were you.” She smiles, and she doesn’t look much like Sam, but the kindness in her eyes is so very familiar. Spencer’s breath catches.

“She’s not kidding, shoulda seen the way she pinned me when I tried to introduce myself,” Dean grumbles. Then he turns to Castiel and says, “Tell me what happened to Sam.”

As Castiel starts to explain the details, Spencer calls Penelope.

“FBI, office of the brilliant but under-caffeinated,” she says, slightly less chirpy than he’s used to, and Spencer realizes how early it is. Oops.

“It’s me.”

“Oh! Boy genius! They did it, huh? Hotch called us back in, like, as soon as the sun came back on, because apparently criminals don’t stop just because the world is ending, or whatever, but he wanted to give you a day at least — hey, are you okay? How’s that handsome lumberjack of yours?”

“Sam’s missing,” Spencer says without preamble. “I need your help.”

It takes Penelope approximately a minute to find the car and identify the driver, but the identity of his passenger is a little more elusive. She types away, keys clattering ceaselessly in the background, as Spencer yawns.

“Got it! Okay, I have a cell number. If you call her, I can track it. You ready?”

“Dean, give me your phone?” Spencer asks, holding out a hand. “You stay on the line with Penelope. She can tell you as soon as she gets the address.”

“I can make the call,” Dean says. “I want to have a word with this bitch.”

“Dean,” Spencer snaps. “First of all, I’m the only person here who’s trained in hostage negotiation. Finding people is literally in my job description.”

“This isn’t a fuckin’ bank holdup, this is my brother,” Dean retorts. “It’s my job to take care of him.”

“If you call her a bitch and start in on your threatening macho bullshit, she’s going to hang up, or worse, she’s going to believe you, and then she’ll be trying to get you before you can get to Sam. I know how to talk to people like this. If I can convince her I’m scared, that I’m not a real threat, she might give something away.”

“But —”

“Secondly, the only people who know you’re alive are in this room right now, which means you’re our best chance to take her by surprise when we get there, so shut up and let me do my job.”

“You really think you can find him,” Dean says, and it’s not a question. He holds out his phone with a look of begrudging respect.

“Yes.”

Spencer thinks, I have to.

* * *

People aren’t all the same, but if you could quantify the concept of normal, if you could look at it statistically, most people would fall within the standard deviation. Most of their lives take an even, predictable shape, Spencer thinks. There are plenty of other people like them, and they seem to fit with each other, too, interlocking in an easy way that Spencer has always envied.

Spencer’s got all these awkward uneven edges and strange angles. He’s not normal, and he’s always known that.

For a long time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find someone who’ll fit easily, not without changing him, trying to reshape him in some way. He doesn’t want to change, but he gets lonely. Most people (friends, let alone lovers) don’t last long before they get sick of his quirks. Some try longer than others, but one way or another, there’s always some jarring part of him that doesn’t match what they want.

What if they like to sleep with the windows open, even in the winter? Or if they sleep with the air conditioning cranked up in the summer? Spencer knows he should be better about compromising on little things like that, but he really prefers things a certain way. He knows it’s neurotic. He can’t help it.

Spencer is used to people staring blankly when he starts talking, but at what point will it drive someone away? When will they stop pretending to care about his Doctor Who opinions? When will they get bored of his info-dumping?

And then there are the really difficult questions. How does he tell someone he used to be an addict? What if he doesn’t want to tell them about being kidnapped and tortured? What if he does, and then they start asking questions? How does he explain his PTSD, or his nightmares, or his bedtime routine of triple-checking every lock and setting his gun within arm’s reach?

At first, when he met Sam, Spencer worried about arguments and parents and all the other normal things, but more importantly, he worried about himself. He wondered which of his irregularities would finally make Sam give up on his attempts to fit Spencer into his life.

Neither of them sleep much, but when they do end up sharing a bed, Sam has his own routine; while Spencer checks the locks, Sam draws warding symbols, lines each window and door with salt, and sets his gun within reach. He likes the windows closed and the thermostat above 68, because, he explains simply, “Lucifer runs cold.”

Speaking of Lucifer. Sam understands addiction, kidnapping, torture, PTSD, and nightmares, and he doesn’t ask Spencer to tell his stories before he’s ready. Sam has stories of his own.

Sam also has his own Doctor Who opinions, and those opinions were the cause of their very first argument. Sam is wrong, but Spencer loves that he cares enough to argue.

The first time Spencer started rambling about serial killers, he noticed Sam frowning and cut himself off, embarrassed, ready to apologize. Sam just pulled out a journal and asked him to repeat what he’d said, so that Sam could do more research on the subject later.

Sam doesn’t expect him to change. He doesn’t try to re-shape Spencer. His life is just as weird, and by all logic they shouldn’t fit, but they do. And Spencer doesn’t feel any less himself, but suddenly he realizes that he must’ve changed along the way, because he can’t imagine his life without Sam any more; if they can’t find him, his absence is going to tear Spencer apart.

* * *

It’s a tense car ride, to say the least.

Hell of a first impression, Spencer thinks again, glancing at Mary’s pale, worried face in the rearview.

Castiel and Mary are in the backseat, and they’re trying to make small talk, but Castiel seems to be about as good as Spencer at the whole “casual conversation” thing. Sam’s told him so much about Castiel, Spencer feels like he knows him, but they’ve never actually crossed paths before.

And then there’s Dean, who’s got his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Spencer gives him directions, and he grunts or nods, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Dean intimidates the hell out of him, but they’ve always gotten along fine, maybe because Spencer’s never yelled at him before. He’s very aware that arguing with Dean Winchester is usually fruitless at best (and deadly at worst), but he’s never been good at holding his tongue when he’s upset.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer manages to mutter eventually.

“Huh?” Dean looks at him, frowning.

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to — um.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly.

“I was upset. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs, and he hesitates before adding, “You were right.” He looks as surprised to be saying it as Spencer is to hear it.

Spencer blinks at him a couple times before hurriedly saying, “Turn left. There.”

Cas and Mary are having a quiet conversation about the weirdness of technology, and Spencer is about to join them when Dean speaks up again.

“Garcia — she said something funny.”

“Uh oh.”

Dean snorts. “Nah, not like that. Before she hung up, she told me not to worry. Said of everybody she knows, Sam probably has the second-best odds of escaping any poor sap who tries to abduct him.”

“Second best?”

“That’s what I said. But apparently that title belongs to you.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. All I can do is talk myself out, he’s stronger.” Spencer gives him a crooked attempt at a smile; it feels awkward on his face, but he means it when he says, “He’ll be okay.”

* * *

The funny thing is, Spencer has been in this situation before.

When it was Maeve, though, he panicked, because all he could think about was how she must feel: scared, helpless. Spencer has too much empathy sometimes. Imagining Maeve’s helplessness made him feel like he was drowning.

This is different. He’s not exactly zen about the whole situation, of course; it feels like a piece of him is missing, but he’s clear-headed, because he knows that Sam is anything but helpless. He trusts Sam to take care of himself.

Aside from the supernatural element, Sam’s job is astoundingly similar to Spencer’s, and he’s astoundingly good at it. The Winchesters have consulted on a couple cases, now, for the B.A.U. (Spencer’s still not sure how Hotch manages the paperwork) and they try to find cases in the same general area as wherever Spencer winds up, so they’ve gotten to work together a few times. Sam’s sheer competence at his job might be the most attractive thing Spencer has ever seen.

Spencer used to imagine a quiet, mundane romance. He always just assumed he’d find someone whose life was more normal than his, and he was resigned to the stress it would cause in a relationship. He’d forget to call, he’d miss dinner, he’d have to cancel plans and be absent from so much of what constituted a normal domestic life, and his partner would be left at home, alone, all too aware of how much danger Spencer could be in, helpless to do anything about it.

Instead, Spencer found Sam. Spencer never has to feel guilty about missing dinner, because Sam isn’t at home worrying about him. Sam is out there saving the world.

Sam is not going to wait for Spencer to rescue him; he might not even need rescuing, at this point. Instead of worrying about what Sam is doing and whether he’s scared, Spencer can focus on his own plan.

* * *

He and Dean circle slowly around the house. They spot the entrance to the basement, and Dean almost runs right to it, but Spencer grabs his arm and points to the sigils around the door.

Spencer notices movement through a window next to the back door, and when they creep up to get a glimpse inside, he sees two women. One is the blonde — the brains of the operation — and the other is stockier, clearly the muscle.

After a quick conversation in whispers and gestures, Dean sneaks around to the side of the house opposite the basement, and a second later Spencer hears him shout. He waits a couple seconds and glances in the window again, and sure enough, the bigger woman is gone while the blonde is watching something on a computer monitor, looking agitated. Security cameras, maybe.

Spencer is about to go inside when he sees the blonde start, look around, and grab a cattle prod. Then she’s hurrying toward a door, sliding back a heavy deadbolt, and Spencer sees a dark stairwell that must lead to the basement.

He slips through the door and follows her.

For a split-second, the scene in the basement almost stops his heart. Sam is lying on the floor, completely still, his head surrounded by a puddle of blood.

But before Spencer can really process what he’s seeing, let alone react, Sam is in motion: lashing out, grabbing her by the throat, shoving her against the wall. Spencer descends the stairs quietly with his gun at the ready, trying not to make any noise that might distract Sam right now.

Sam doesn’t need his help. There’s blood on his damp clothes and his arms are shaking as the blonde goes limp in his grip, but he’s alive; he doesn’t need Spencer’s help, and Spencer isn’t the slightest bit surprised.

When Sam turns and sees him, he doesn’t look surprised either. He just smiles, all dimples and sparkling eyes in spite of his obvious pain as he limps over.

“Sorry that took me so long,” Spencer says casually, trying to control his grin. He doesn’t want to holster his gun yet, so he keeps it trained on the woman and hugs Sam one-armed.

Sam wraps his arms around Spencer, holding on tight. Spencer rests his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe as he feels missing pieces sliding neatly into place.

“Love you,” Sam says, and the words sound like a sigh of relief. He pulls back, and he looks surprised, like he didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.

Spencer’s about to reply when he sees the woman struggling to her feet, reaching for her cattle prod, and so instead he says, “Look out.”

Sam steps sideways to give him a clear shot. Spencer shoots her in the thigh and she screams as she falls to the floor.

“See how you like it,” Sam tells her, with a vicious little smile.

“I love you too,” Spencer blurts out.

For a second they both pause, grinning at each other like idiots, their surroundings forgotten.

Then there’s a sound from overhead, and Sam asks hurriedly, “The other one. Did you take her out already?”

“Dean’s got her,” Spencer tells him. “We should check on him, then we can come back down and deal with — Sam?”

At first he can’t figure out why Sam’s mouth drops open like that, shocked and disbelieving. Then he remembers.

“Dean’s alive?” Sam asks, a smile spreading slowly over his face. Spencer nods, wrapping an arm around Sam’s ribs, supporting him as he limps gingerly toward the stairs. It feels like he’s forgetting something.

There’s another noise, and then Mary is in the doorway, looking down at them.

Oh.

Sam turns to Spencer silently, like he’s waiting for confirmation that she’s real.

Spencer nods. “Yeah. So — um. Surprise?”

Sam doesn’t actually seem all that surprised, because… of course he doesn’t. He blinks at Spencer a couple times and then he grins.

“You met my mom before I did,” Sam says, breathless and amused, and grabs the banister to haul himself up the stairs. Spencer laughs and follows him, smiling to himself.

It’s not your average “meet the parents” scene, but somehow, it fits Sam and Spencer perfectly.

Nothing about their love story has been normal. Why start now?

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #supernatural #sam winchester x spencer reid #spencer reid fic #sam winchester fic

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occult-castiel · 3 years

Text

A thread with no end

Cool metal lighter in hand, he finally takes a glance at the reason for all of this.

It's small, swallowed whole by the thick yellow clothes Sam has it in. It yawns, puppy-like, and fixes his wide eyes on Dean.

Blue. Big and impossibly blue. Its shades too light, closer to ice than ocean, but it pulls something loose in him. It's — it's almost like —

When Jack is born, he doesn't come out fully grown.

[Part One]

[Ao3]

Chapter 2

When the sharp edges of adrenaline settle, the last couple of days are a blur to think about. The absence of it is always its own kind of tired — aches become apparent again. His temples sting. All thoughts are filtered through sludge. His stomach gurgles out loud groans. The reminder is a desperate attempt to make bodily functions matter again, but the desire for food is numb. If anything it makes him sick.

He shakes his head, uses his free hand to blanket his face, pinch the bridge. Trapped under the rough pressure, his tear ducts throb. But it’s all right. It’s fine.

Fucking peachy.

Sloppy and mechanical, as Dean pulls the two of them off the ground. He doesn't look at the embers. The ash. His joins cry against all movement, each jagged step a chore. What should be solid ground slips loose under his boots. He has to catch himself with each half-stumble towards the house. Little snivels turn to full body whines, and Dean doesn't blame the kid. It can't be fun to get jerked around by some idiot that forgot how to walk right.

The door juts open with a creak, and whatever course of action he might've tried to take vanishes.

Unfiltered sunlight glimmers in through the curtainless window. Dust particles dance in yellow above the table where it's — it’s just empty now. His last pitstop. The last place Dean would ever get to look. To touch. Legs on autopilot, he trudges over.

Light glistens off the table's glossy finish. Glints against the discarded keyring Sam somehow remembered to salvage. Carefully, he skims the tips of his fingers over the cool surface, and dread sits like a rock in his stomach. It was warm, right after. But the air has long since leeched any heat Cas left behind.

Throat tense, he cups the keyring under his palm. Tightens his fist around it until the metal digs in and his arm trembles.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. They used to have more allies. Friends. Something they could fall back on after so long of having nothing, but none of it even lasts. Like the universe has decided The Sam and Dean Adventure just ain't multiplayer.

"Dean?"

He shoves the keys in his pocket. "Yeah. Down here."

Sam clunks down the steps and gives Dean a tight smile. Grey bags under his eyes highlight the bloodshot tendrils. His whole body slumped in on itself, the exhaustion of the last however-the-fuck long hitting him like a brick. Maybe he looks that bad too.

Over one shoulder Sam has the world's largest baby bag — lime green and burgeoning with diapers. The zippers stuck halfway around. It thunks when it hits the floor, and Sam shakes a bottle. "Made some formula. There's an extra in the side pocket."

"Thanks." Dean takes it. "Gonna have to toss the other one. Stuff can only sit out an hour."

Sam doesn't say anything to that, just scrapes a chair to the table, plops down, and buries his face in his hands. That's okay. Silence suits Dean just fine.

He repositions the baby in his arms, cradles the head against his shoulder so he's more upright. The kid latches on to the plastic nipple with ease.

The last time he fee a baby was a lifetime ago in some stranger’s home, babysitting with an ex-angel post attempted-murder. He and Cas had straightened out his not-dates house, and the baby started fussing. The bottle was already made. He didn’t think about it when he started feeding the kid. When Cas saw him, he gave Dean a pleased smile and said you're good at this.

It jolted his pulse. Compliments had a way of hitting him funny, but right then? In the low light of a picture-perfect suburban home? Right from the very human Cas who has sex and goes on dates and looks at Dean like he’s worth something?

Neck warm and mind blank, he offered to help Cas do it right without thinking.

And it was good, the light touches, soft adjustments that weren't necessary. But Cas never dressed down that much, so it was better than good. Dean spent the whole time thinking about how thin his cotton shirt was. Cas was smaller without the layers, and the warmth of him unfiltered. He tried to peel his hands away, but it was like he couldn't stop. Angel or mud-monkey, Cas felt strong and whole.

The comfort of the words stuck with him for days. The feel of Cas underneath him never left.

God, he should be here now.

The baby’s pudgy face grimaces, and Dean moves the bottle back until it evens out again.

"We need to figure out what we're doing." Sam's palms muffle his voice.

"We're going home. Welcome to the joys of parenthood. Here’s to hoping it doesn't kill us during puberty."

"It has a name." Sam drops his arms to his sides. "Jack. Kelly made videos on her laptop for him."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well ain't that just lovely?"

Sam's jaw drops. "Dean."

He's two steps away from being the spitting image of some scandalized Victorian chick, and it crawls under Dean's skin.

"What? Jack here is the son of Satan, Sam. Fucking pardon me for not caring about mommy’s little home videos," Dean says. The baby — Jack, whatever — whimpers. Body tense, Dean slowly slides the bottle from his mouth.

"He's a baby, not a monster. And I'm just saying we don't have to — to tuck our tails and go home."

White spit-like liquid dribbles from Jack's mouth. Dean sighs.

"Fan-freakin'-tastic. I forgot babies did this crap." Dean sighs, storms over to the table, and places the bottle down with a hard clank. "I'm not seeing an array of options here. We can't exactly put a Nephilim up for adoption. Or hire a babysitter." Carefully, he brushes off Jack's mouth with the color of his onesie. It’s probably the cleanest thing they have to do it with.

"There's Mom. If the portal was opened once, there's gotta be a way to do it again. Maybe the Book of the Damned, or the Demon Tablet..." Sam perks up. "We could try and get Donatello to help —”

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you there." Dean lays Jack flat against his shoulder and pats his back. "First of all, you really want a soulless dude and Lucifer's kid bumping shoulders? Don't think they could be, I dunno, a bad influence on each other?" Jack releases a puff of air and Dean adjusts him back down. He levels a hard stare at Sam. "Second of all: Moms dead. Nothings gonna help that."

Sam doesn't miss a beat. "You don't know that."

Buzzing vibrates from Dean's pocket. He yanks it from his pocket for it. "Pretty sure I do. Lucifer ganked her the minute the portal closed."

"You can't —"

Unknown. He sends the asshole to voicemail.

Sam shakes his head. Sighs. "Whatever. Who was that?"

"Not Donatello." Well, it could've been. But whatever. He grabs the baby bag, then slings the lime green wrecking ball of a bag over his shoulder. "You've got Baby's keys. I'm taking the truck."

The coach squeaks. Before Dean can make it out the door, Sam grabs the strap. The force yanks him in place. Dean swivels around and glares. Sam drops his hand and gives Dean a weary look.

"Can we just talk about this?"

Dean swivels around. "I don't know what you want from me. Crowley's dead. Kelly's dead. Cas is —" Pain pangs his chest, a little twinge that sends pin-pricks through his torso, down his arms. His eyes dart away and land on the table. The discarded, half-finished bottle sits just outside of the sunlight’s path. "Mom’s gone. We even lost Rowena. So I'm gonna take the kid, find a motel the next state over, and put up whatever sigils I can to let the dick brigade know they aren't welcome. Rinse and repeat until we’re back home."

Sam scoffs, but whatever energy he had left is burned out. "Whatever. We'll talk later."

"Unlikely."

By the time Dean walks over to the table and grabs the bottle, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Dean pushes past Sam and grabs the bottle. By the time he walks through the door, Sam's halfway up the stairs.

Ash has blown around the yard, smeared it in grey. Eyes downcast, pointedly away from the remnants, he beeline for the truck. Wind whistles by and smears ash across the lawn. Dean stares at the mustard-colored wet spots on Jack's clothes instead.

Cars are like a testament to the owner. The truck is immaculate. The burgundy shines — there’s not a spec of dirt marring the strips of pearl-white.

Dean doesn't bat an eye at the car seat. It’s green. Of course it’s green. His breath doesn't catch at the stupid cartoon bee sticker smiling at him on the car seat’s side. And he doesn't think about Cas.

Not him stumbling through a Walmart visit to buy the thing. God, he bets the nerdy little guy compared brands, sifted through online reviews in the middle of the aisle. He doesn’t picture how pleased Cas must've been at finding a pack of sticks, of all things. How the rest of them are most likely sitting in the glovebox. How it was probably the last enjoyable moment he had. Dean doesn't think — he doesn't. Merely shrugs the baby bag off onto the floorboard, buckles Jack in, and clicks the door closed.

Sweat slick forehead pressed against the doorframe, Dean squeezes his eyes shut.

The last conversation he had with Cas is a blur. An actual conversation, not stress-filled bickering over the newest pile of shit dumped on their doorstep.

Dean tries to swallow, but the motion stops halfway through, and there’s nothing there to force down.

The last movie night he'd managed to drag Cas into was over a month ago. It might’ve been the last time where either of them were reasonably happy. The last time his lips would tilt up in that small way that knots Dean's stomach. It isn’t fair. It's all wrong, and there’s no way to fix it. No magic is strong enough to bring an angel back, The only witch that could’ve tried is dead too. And any power Heaven could spare wouldn’t be used to help him. There’s only one shot to take, and it's the same useless one everyone’s thought of trying at some point.

Dean grabs the side of the truck bed and turns his head towards the sky. He sighs. Here goes nothing. "Okay, Chuck. Or God, whatever. We need your help. You said — you said the world would be fine with us. It isn't. We've lost everything."

He takes a deep breath, rocks his head to the ground. "You left. And I've never asked you for anything. Never begged. But now you're gonna bring him back. Cas. Mom. Hell, even Crowley." His hand tightens. "You owe us, you son of a bitch."

"Please." It's begging. He knows it is and doesn't care. He’d beg for weeks straight if it wasn’t useless. "Please help us."

A beat passes. Nothing happens. He didn’t expect it to work. God's never really gave a shit before, has he?

It's fine. All fine.

Jack cries when Dean slams the door. He strangles the steering wheel between his hands, hands that itch to inflict. Hit. Destroy. Sure as fuck not to nurture, not to quell the newborn screams, because Cas was wrong. Dean isn’t good at this.

A handful of deep breaths later, he leans down and fishes out a pink pacifier from the bag. Jack latches onto it, his pudgy face relaxed. Blue eyes float up to Dean. Innocent, full. It stings, and Dean turns away before his body uses whatever scraps of water it has left to make him cry again.

When he brings the engine to life, Zeppelin creeps through the speakers, one track after the next in an order he memorized long before Cas got the chance.

He plays it front to back on repeat until hunger and exhaustion win out, and he finds a motel.

#destiel #deancas #not sure if ill post eevery chapter on here #cause i have the feeling this us gunna be longer than i originally anticipated #and having a 30+ series on tumbkr seems messy #but ill at least out this one up here too #destiel fanfic #a thread with no end

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bijoharvelle · 4 years

Text

the lovely @good-things-do-happen-dean got a year older! so here’s a dean/benny high school au that i’ve been bouncing around for literally 7 years and finally sat down and made it into words for clara’s birthday!

Everybody likes Benny.

He’s kind and funny and, most importantly, since he joined our football team, we’ve actually started winning. We’re not gonna get a championship anytime soon, but Benny has the kind of natural leadership to get those idiots actually looking like a team. Add that to the accent that has every girl from freshman year up up swooning, and, yeah, Benny’s popular.

It’s a small school, you might not know everyone in your grade, but you’ve probably at least heard of them. And you probably know that someone’s cousin is a sophomore, and someone’s brother is a freshman, and someone’s dad’s business partner’s daughter is a junior, so by extension, you kind of know everybody.

So everybody knows Benny and everybody likes Benny and no one really understands, at all, why he’s friends with Dean Winchester.

The thought of Dean on the football team is laughable. I heard he did the whole wrestling thing in freshman and sophomore year but his interest petered out, I guess (Really, though, by junior year, Dean was driving to school and Sammy was in high school then which meant that he would have to sit around after school and wait for Dean to be finished with practices or matches or whatever. Or take the bus, which - Dean is not going to let his little brother ride the bus.)

So, okay, anyway, Dean and Benny are basically as different as you can get when it comes to social strata. And if you ask any of Benny’s teammates, or any of the few stragglers who hang out with Dean, none of them could tell you how Benny and Dean even met Apparently Castiel - that weird kid with the x-ray level blue eyes? - he knows the story but no one is going to ask him anything. There was a rumor, for a little bit, that it had to do with Benny being interested in Jo Harvelle and trying to get to know her through Dean - since the two of them have been best friends since birth - but that seems unlikely. Only time you ever see Benny with Jo is when they’re both with Dean. (Benny’s truck had stalled out along one of the side-roads that ran toward the Winchester house. Dean saw him on the way home and Sam insisted that they should stop and so Dean did. The whole time he was helping, Dean kept up a constant stream about what a piece of shit the truck was and how Benny’d be better off just pushing the thing into the reservoir. Benny laughed and smiled the whole time. Then the next day, before morning announcements, Benny was leaning to the side of Dean’s locker, like he did that every morning or something, and asked if he had any recommendations for a not-piece of shit and...well.)

But the point is, as different as they are, as much as Dean will never fit in with Benny’s jocks and as much as Benny is pretty out of place in Dean’s island of misfit toys, they are really good friends.

Like, really good.

Dean shows up for every one of Benny’s games, sometimes with Jo or Castiel in tow, sometimes alone. He’s always a little off to the side, hands hidden away in his leather jacket. (You could kind of tell, if you’re watching him, that his attention drifts whenever our team is on offense. He doesn’t cheer when we get touchdowns, he doesn’t groan when we fumble or get intercepted. But then the minute the D-Line trots out, he has eyes on the field and, like, he still doesn’t celebrate or mourn or anything like that. He isn’t there for the game, just for his friend, who happened to be on the team.)

If you happen to have fifth-block lunch, it’s impossible not to know what good friends they are. Benny always eats with Dean, in a little corner of one of the long tables. Sometimes Sam, or Jo sit with them. Sometimes Sam is with sophomore pals, sometimes Jo is with Meg and the other field hockey girls. But Benny is always there -- even when there are at least five different tables full of guys from the football teams or girls from Model UN or whoever that he could definitely sit with instead. He always sits with Dean and his full-body laugh floats above the rest of the usual lunchroom din. (Dean laughs quiet, with eyes down, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be making noise. But Benny will laugh out, into the world, and curve his elbow around the back of Dean’s neck and Dean will look up with soft green eyes and maybe there’ll be a blush over his cheeks and if you look close you might be able to parse out the expression of pride on Dean’s face, at making Benny laugh.)

There are parties and events and stuff on weekends that Benny shows his face at, often. He’ll man a keg for an hour and strip to swim trunks to wash cars for charity or whatever but when it comes time for lounging in someone’s basement or cruising to a park for some pick-up or whatever the rest of the gang is up for, he peels off. Waves his hand and smiles against protests, ducks his head a little when someone makes a pointed comment about him being whipped and running off to his boyfriend. But that’s all just jokes.

Even if everyone knows Winchester is bi, their town is liberal enough to not make it a huge deal (well, there were some fights his sophomore year that were definitely about that but people have mostly moved on). Even if, despite a number of people of all genders who have expressed interest, Benny never dates anyone, always goes solo to football dinners and to parties and to dances.

(Maybe, some evenings, Benny and Dean end up parked along one of the deep side roads that tucks against the canal, leaning back against Dean’s Impala. Late evening with the stars rolling in and the two of them splitting a bag of twizzlers across their Slurpees as they idly pass through conversation: about Sam, about Jo, and Benny’s hometown and Dean’s mom.

(Maybe, once the sky gets darker, they lean in a little closer. Maybe their shoulders press together and Dean plants his hand down on the cool metal of his car’s hood and Benny let’s his hand drop over those fingers.

(Maybe, a few times, they’ve bowed in toward each other enough to feel the brush of lips. Maybe Benny knows what Dean’s tongue tastes like, maybe Dean knows what Benny’s beard feels like against his cheeks, along his chest, between his thighs. Maybe there have been times when Dean knows, underneath Benny’s uniform, his fingers are marked in bruises along Benny’s sides and down his shoulders.

(Anyway, they have this plan, after graduation, to road trip down where Benny’s from. Stop by Carencro, cut through Lafayette, head for New Orleans. Make their way West and then North and then, well, who knows. Benny’s good at football but he’s not getting a full ride anywhere, and Dean is smart - a genius, if you ask Sam, or Benny, or Cas, or Jo - but college isn’t really in his cards. So maybe they’ll just keep out on the road until they find someplace worth stopping for.)

just tagging some of my denny pals! @prayedtoyou - @envydean - @cherryberrynice - @flowersforcas

#denny fanfic #deanbenny #deanbenny fanfic #dean x benny #my stuff

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writingkeepsmewhole · 4 years

Text

Explanations.

This is part 5 of Kitten. Sorry it ends weird this is harder to write then what I thought it would be haha. Let me know what you think please!

Fic Summery: Sophia has never known love, her always picking the “good guy” him always turning out to be like a snake in the weeds. What will happen when shes took home one night by a “bad guy” him showing her things she never knew about herself.

Part Summery:Dean give Sophia a bit of an explanation.

Warnings: Talk of BDSM

Let me know if you want to be tagged would love to add you: @vicmc624 @deanwanddamons @that-one-gay-girl @akshi8278 @loelizabeth100 @nihilismworld

Part 1 Part 4

The rest of dinner was relatively silent after that. Surprisingly, it wasn't awkward. Sam and Dean talked amongst themselves that I was thankful for. I wasn’t ready to start talking despite trying a few times since I was here.

The months of being smacked or hit every time I opened my mouth made me scared to even whimper.

I knew Dan wasn’t like that and I don’t think his brother was either but that didn’t convince my body.

Despite that both Dean and Sam would ask me questions always yes or no and would include me in their conversation as best they could.

I appreciated it but after the tenth shrug and twelve head nod I was wanting to go back to my room.

“Are you done?” Dean asks looking down at me picking at half of my first taco.

I nod at him, making him frown.

“Are you full or just scared to eat more?”

I shrug not really have an answer. My stomach was rolling. I couldn't tell if that was from being hungry or not wanting anything else inside me.

“One more bite and you can stop.” He says sweaty, reminding me of what my mom used to say to me when I was a kid.

‘One more bite Sophia and you can go play.’ I think in my mother's voice as I pick up the taco and take one more bite.

Dean smiles at me, making me blush. Him looking at me as if I really made him happy by eating.

‘Maybe he just likes watching people eat?’ I think smiling back at him.

‘But then again he wasn’t watching Sam eat so that’s not it.’

That thought goes out the window when the large door at the top of the steps opens. I never really thought about it until now. My brain always thinks you got in from the car garage. But there was clearly another exit.

The door slowly pushes open as a dark haired man wearing a trench coat walks in. He looks around, closes the door and starts walking down the steps.

“Well well well look what the cat dragged in.” Sam says, smiling at him getting up to greet the man with a hug.

“It’s nice to see you as well Sam.” The man says return the hug.

“What brought you here Cas?” Dean asks leaning back in his car sipping at his pop from the taco place.

“You know why.” This Cas guy says his blue eyes going from Dean to me.

“New pet?” He asks, cocking his head at me like a puppy.

“No.” Dean says calmly but it was clear he didn’t want that brought up again.

I dropped my head knowing exactly why Dean didn’t want anyone to think I was with him. Despite the weird names everyone kept calling me. Who called their partner a pet?

I wonder why he called me that but not long enough to get the answer or care too much about it. Cas saying something that got my attention.

“I need information.”

“Case got you stumped?”Sam says gesturing towards the seat next to him.

“You could say that.” Cas says, sitting down, a badge flashing on his hip as he does.

‘This guy is a cop?’ I think looking at him.

‘No, not a cop. Dressed too nice to be one.’ I think looking at the suit he was wearing.

His shoes were dress shoes and his hair was styed in that messy I woke up like this look. ‘Detective maybe?’ I think, settling that that was the best answer.

Dean glances at me, his brows wrinkling together. A wave of fear goes through me. Feeling like I did something wrong I drop my head and close my eyes waiting for him to hit me or start yelling.

“Sophia why don’t you head back to your room. I’ll come check on you in a bit.” He says softly.

Lifting my head up slowly I look at him to see him relaxed. Sam handed Cas the extra tacos he got. They are all relaxed.

No one was mad at me.

Taking a breath I nod and stand up.

I push my chair back in and head back towards my room. Once inside it I feel a weight lift off me.

No more talking, or eating, or people. Walking to sit on the bed I start to clean the stuff off the notebook still sitting there with my questions.

Picking it up I write down a couple that popped into my head at dinner then lay down.

I felt exhausted for some reason and all I wanted was a nap. Knowing Dean was going to come see me soon I settled for just sitting down and leaning against the wall. That was the last thing I remember.

I jump hearing the door opening, my heart pounding as the frightening images slip from my mind. I look at the door to see Dean standing there, his hand on the knob.

“Sorry just checking on you you.” He says smiling softly.

Smiling back I move to sit up. Laying over in my sleep state.

“Do you want me to leave?”

I shook my head that being the last thing I wanted him to do. I ignored being around Dean. He made me feel safe.

“Alright I’ll stay for a bit.” He says walking into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Walking to sit on the end of the bed like he did earlier today his green eyes fall to the notebook on the bedside table.

“You wrote down more questions.” He states picking it up.

I nod my cheeks flushing.

Instead of reading the questions out loud this time he reads over them and then sits down.

“To answer your questions from earlier. You don’t have to pay me back for staying here. You can stay as long as you want and I’m thirty. How old are you?” He asks looking at me.

I hold up two fingers then three telling him I’m twenty three.

“That’s not as bad as I thought I was guessing you were barely twenty.” He says chuckling.

I smile at his laugh, making my stomach flutter. It was nice to see someone happy.

“As for your other questions, the guy from before, that’s Cas. He’s a private investigator. He stops by from time to time when he needs help with a case. Now before you ask how we help him we give him insider knowledge on some things.” He says making me wonder what those things were.

“I won’t lie, some of those things are exactly legal but it pays the bills.” He says smirking.

He once again chuckles making my face wrinkle in confusion.

“You're cute when you're confused.” He says making me blush and look down.

It’s been a long time since someone called me cute. I think I was still in middle school. But it sounded different coming out of Dean’s mouth. I felt flattered being called cute.

“On to the last question. Why did he call you my pet? Well that’s what I call the girls I get into a relationship with. That is of course if they are one.” He says casually.

“There is that confused look again.” He says smiling.

I let out a huff hating that I was confused but he was talking in riddles again.

“Do you remember when we talked the day I took you back?” He asks, making memories fill my head. I nod telling him yes, I remembered.

Of course I remember it was the day I wish I could go back to and change my answer. The day I went back home to the devil himself.

“We talked about Crowely’s club Hell? The BDSM place.” He says slowly as if he is walking on thin ice.

I nod my head again wondering why he is talking about this.

“Well I’m a member of that club. It’s an interest of mine. Well more than that I live the lifestyle.” He says his ears turning red as if he was embarrassed.

“Gosh why is this so hard to explain? I guess because I know you know nothing about it.” He says his gaze jumping from me to the bed then back to me.

“I would tell you to look it up but it would probably scare you.” He says swallowing.

“I’m not like...normal people. When I’m with someone I’m not just dating them. We don’t just have sex or have a relationship. There are rules, punishments, rewards. Everything is talked about and written in a contact before we do anything with each other.” He says making my head spin.

I had no idea what he was talking about and as if he could read my thoughts he didn’t go on instead he backtracked.

“The night we met I was looking for a new submissive. I’m what they call a dominant. I’m also a caregiver, master and owner but we will get into those later if ever you want to talk about them but I’ll just explain the basics. That is of course if you want me to. I can shut up and we pretend this never happened.”

I shake my head, the curious side of me getting the better of me.

“You want me to go on?”

I nod and smile wanting to know what he was talking about.

“Alright.” He says smiling widely as if I just made his day.

“I’ll try to answer the questions I’m sure you’ll think of. Also tell me if you want to stop talking about this. Just hold your hand up. Alright?” He asks softly. As if he is scared of frightening me.

I nod, telling him I understand.

“Okay so where was I? Oh dominates and submissives.” He says with his eyes meeting mine.

“Like I said I am a domante, or dom for short. As a dom I would have control over you. I know that sounds scary but it’s not what you’re thinking. As I said we would make an agreement before we ever did anything. Also I’m saying this hypothetically I’m not asking or expecting you to do anything. Just explaining.”

I smile knowing that’s what he meant by we. Of course he wouldn’t want that with me. I was broken and used he wouldn’t want me.

“As the dom, I would give you a set of rules to follow. Once again that we would talk about beforehand. They could be simple like telling you to go to bed at a certain time. Or something more complex as me giving you a meal plan right down to counting out your peas for dinner. It all depends on what the submissive or sub needs or wants. Some want complete control, others just want fun play time.” He says smiling as if he was thinking of a fond memory.

“You asked a question about the kennel so I’ll really answer it. The previous sub hated it so I used it as a punishment. Hence why it’s still here. That room is what I call my play room. There is nothing else in it because new sub means new toys.” He says using his hands as he talks.

“As the sub you would follow my rules or get punished. If followed you get rewards. I know this isn’t for everyone. Most people just use it in the bedroom but I found that I enjoyed it in all parts of my life. Each dynamic is different. No two relationships are the same. That’s why I make all my subs sign a contract before anything happens between us.” He says smiling softly.

“You look confused again.”

I nod telling him I am. I knew what he was saying but I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

I reach for the notebook still on the nightstand and scribble out a question. He reads it then hands it back to me.

“A sub isnt your girlfriend but a girlfriend can be a sub. Like I said, me and Sam don’t have girlfriends. Our lives are dangerous so I would never agree to that with anyone. My subs would come here for the weekend, give me check ins through the week and that was it. We never went on dates unless that was a reward. Relationships are tricky.” He says making me frown.

Mostly because it made me more confused but also because I was picturing us together despite him saying hypothetically.

I nod my head, wanting him to know I was listening, a soft sigh leaving my mouth.

“Did I upset you?” He asks him looking worried.

I shake my head and shrug not knowing how to answer.

“Okay. Do you want me to continue?”

I shake my head, having enough to think about for the night.

“Alright.” He says this time he’s the one that sounds disappointed.

“I’ll let you go to bed.” He says standing up.

I watched him walk over to the door, my mind racing but despite that I knew I didn’t want him to go. But I didn’t say anything. I never say anything. I watch him open the door, looking back at me for just a moment.

“Goodnight Sophia.” He says softly then leaves me alone.

I sit there in the silence trying to understand what Dean had to say. My mind is full of questions. Laying down to try and fall asleep I quickly realized that was going to be impossible. I hated that feeling.

I stair at the wall as what Dean said replays in my mind. I wanted to know more but knew I shouldn’t ask. Even if I could. I thought about writing them down but got embasred by the thought.

Knowing that I wasn’t going to sleep any time soon I settled for coloring instead. When that started to become more aggravating than relaxing I topped and just looked at the ceiling. After what felt like hours my mouth got dry and my stomach let out a rubble.

I looked at the clock seeing that it was almost three AM. Chewing on my lip I wondered if anyone was up.

‘Would they get mad if I got up for a snack?’ I think fear fills my mind.

‘Dean said I could go to the kitchen whenever I wanted.’ I remind myself.

After arguing in my own mind for a few minutes another rumble settles the argument.

I get out of bed and step out into the dark hallway. Along the top of the walls every six or so feet were dim red lights guiding you through the large bunker.

‘Why do they live in a bunker?’ I wonder as I slowly walk towards the kitchen.

‘Dean said his life was dangerous, how?’

Thought similar to that play through my mind as I find my way to the kitchen. A light over the stove and table light the room enough that I can walk to the fridge.

I open it expecting to find leftovers and take out everywhere instead I find it's organized quite well.

Seeing pudding cups I grab one feeling like a little kid as I begin to sneak back to my room with it.

I stop when I pass one of the many book shelves. The topic of mine and Dean’s conversation coming back to mind as I see the four capital letters on the spine of the book.

My face grows hot as I pick up the book and I quickly rush back to my room.

Climbing into bed with my snack and book I flip it open shocked at what I see. Pictures of women tied up with rope and other things fill the pages.

Notes on the different knots or tools are written under each one. Some of the women are naked some of them are not.

This wasn’t at all what Dean talked about. This seemed scary and strange and I didn’t want anything to do with it.

Despite my fear I found myself reading more and more.

I practically jumped out of my skin when my bedroom door opened Dean standing there.

“Oh you're up.” He says smiling at me.

Blushing I nod and foolishly quickly hide the book I’m reading or at least try to.

“A little light reading?” He asks a smirk on his face as he walks into the room.

I open my mouth to speak but of course nothing comes out. My face is bright red I’m sure as he takes the book gently from me.

“Didn’t peg you for a rope bunny.” He says flipping through the pages.

I quickly shook my head not knowing what that meant but I knew I wasn’t one.

“You don’t want to be tied up like this?” He asks, holding up the book.

I shake my head again.

“Noted.” He says smiling and placing the book down on the nightstand.

“A rope bunny is someone who enjoys that by the way.” He says sweetly.

“It’s not really my thing either I rather have my submissive touch me if I’m honest. But enough about that I have a meeting and Sam went on a run. Just came to tell you I’m leaving.” He says standing up.

“Feel free to read anything else you want and of course use the kitchen.” He says walking towards the door.

“Oh I almost forgot.” He says, pulling a phone from his jacket.

It made me notice he was dressed in a nice suit.

He walks over to me and hands me a standard smartphone.

“I got this for you yesterday incase you need anything. Mine and Sam’s number are already saved. Feel free to call me if something happens.” He says smiling kindly.

I smile back at him and nod.

“Alright see you later Sophia.” He says leaving and closing the door behind him.

I take a deep breath and look over at the clock seeing that it’s 9 AM. I let out a yawn and rub my eyes wondering what I’m going to do with the rest of my day.

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