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casdeans-pie · 9 months

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Dean flirts with a diner waitress one day while him and Sam are working a case (Cas is busy). She gives him a pleasant-customer-service smile until her eyes lock onto his shoulder. She goes pale and backs away and Dean looks at his shoulder like ?????

She tries to make an excuse to leave and bolts out the back door but Dean is Suspicious(TM) and follows her before she can get very far.

She says she's not looking for trouble, she just wants to be left alone, she's made a life for herself here etc etc.

"What are you talking about?" Dean demands, about to reach for his gun.

"You... You’re Dean Winchester." She gestures to his shoulder. "Only Dean Winchester has Castiel's mark and claim on him."

Dean gently touches his shoulder, where the handprint used to be, and he's like, "You're an angel." .......... then he gets his phone out and he's finding Cas's number and slamming the phone to his ear all frowny faced and says to her, "What do you mean, claim? And the mark isn't even there anymore- I- Hey Cas? Cas, there's an angel here who- no I don't know her name- does it matter? Look she says- no don't come here we're fine- she says you left a claim on me with that- y’know that handprint thing and- what do you mean you were going to tell me??? Tell me now-"

And the whole time Dean is getting progressively frownier and his nose is getting redder and he's gripping his shoulder tighter and the angel is watching like, This is the Michael Sword?? This is the Righteous Man??? This is the human Castiel left his mark on?????

#another sleepy lil ficlet #dean should absolutely have accidentally flirted with and angel and theyre like woAH Im not touching Dean Winchester #Castiel's got visibile dibs on that man #destiel #destiel ficlet #my ficlet

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cascigarette · 5 months

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and cas has never felt more alive

#destiel #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #destiel edit #destiel ficlet #my edit #my fic #my writing #mine

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hells-plaid-angel · 4 months

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Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

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annmariethrush · 2 months

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Thinking about Dean sitting in bed in the bunker with his big headphones on listening to Carrie & Lowell by Sufjan Stevens and letting himself cry cause he misses Cas and wishes that Cas would just stay. Just once. Feeling like he’s done everything to try and get him to stay short of outright asking. Regretting every time he’s pushed him away when he should have asked him to stay instead.

Thinking about Cas driving his truck on a dark road in silence, trying not to think about anything when he feels a distant wash of anguish come over him. A melancholy melody starts playing through his head that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. It repeats over and over “all of me wants all of you.”

#ripping my own heart out listening to Sufjan #this is my own fault #but these two longing after one another is my brain worms #all of me wants all of you Sufjan Stevens #sufjan Stevens #destiel drabble #destiel #deancas #casdean #destiel imagine #destiel ficlet #destiel fic #spn #supernatural #Castiel #Dean Winchester

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simplenefelibata · 3 months

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Angels are not supposed to feel love.

How could they? Feelings, emotions, all these — these human perks, derive from the soul. They're ingrained into the construction of the core of human lives to make them be worth something, be worth living. Humans are given such a short span of time that they might as well be born dead. Useless, meaningless little lives in which they're meant to suffer and enjoy and cry and laugh and create and destroy.

But angels? No. They were made to serve God, and be almost as lasting and great as He is. Why would they need souls, or feelings? You wouldn't give a computer nor a cellphone these things, they don't need it. They only need to listen, and obey, and feel wrath in the name of their Father and be able to worship His words. Nothing else.

And yet…

And yet.

The first time one of his siblings fell from grace by a human's hand, Castiel felt disgusted. He couldn't understand the how’s and why’s. Some things needed to happen in order to accomplish Heaven's plan. Some wars, deaths, marriages and massacres needed to be done for the Messiah to be born and the Righteous Man to come along right after. They couldn't afford to fail and put the entire existence in danger. Disobedience was always a whim, a sacrilege, and needed to be punished as such.

He captured Raguel and threw her at Michael’s and Anna’s feet. Castiel was the one to take her wings one by one, twisting them, breaking them, making holes in her ethereal body that could never ever be healed. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, twist. And with all your soul, break. And with all your mind, crash.

And meanwhile Castiel crippled her beautiful Archangel wings, Raguel didn't scream, she didn't scream once. All she repeated over and over again, as breathless as the air —

“But how could you not love them?

How could you know them and not love them?”

She was expelled to the Earth right after… abandoned, cursed, torn. Castiel took charge of most of her responsibilities. As a prize, he gathered. He became one of the most valuable soldiers in Heaven. He was one of the best — maybe the best seraph of them all. It wasn't a surprise Michael and Raphael asked him to lead, capture, threaten and fight non-stop. It's what Raguel would've done had she not been foolish enough to fail. Castiel didn't fail. So, in fact, it was a blessing that when the time came to raise the Righteous Man from Hell, Raguel wasn't around to do it, but Castiel was.

Angels are not supposed to feel love, much less fall in love with.

He wrapped his six wings around the maimed soul, and without surprise, Castiel raised him from perdition. No matter how much Dean Winchester screamed and squirmed in his tight grip, no matter how raw his wings were after the little human soul bit and scratched him, Castiel raised him and rebuilt him with hands that weren't his. He'd never seen a soul from close, and obviously never held one. It was more precious than lightning and mountains, greater than the sea. Knowing it a sin, he couldn't resist putting his mark all over it, possessing it for a moment and claiming it as his. He touched it, he saved it, he was the one to do it. Not Michael. He.

As the days went by and Dean Winchester lived his life, Castiel noticed — there wasn't any other soul like his. Even the most noble and caring souls out there didn't shine half as bright and powerful as Dean's in Hell. Destroyed and corrupted, the Righteous Man held in his core more love and pureness than the most innocent human.

He remembered then, while trying to talk to Dean in his real form, the words of his siblings. He hadn't even crossed a word to this man, and there he was, wanting more. More than worship. More than hatred.

How could you not love them?

How could you know them and not love them?

There he was, wanting more.

And here he is now, in the middle of the day standing in the counter of a Gas n’ Sip looking for the first time at Dean Winchester’s face, bright enough to make anyone forget he once was Michael's Sword. How far those days seem — as if Castiel hadn't been alive since the dawn of creation — how far and wrong those days seem, when Cas looked at Dean’s blurry body and all he could see was the corners his brother would have to stretch to fit in, all the fragile skin and bones he rebuilt and Michael would have to bend and break to make room for himself.

Humans are beasts, Castiel said once to Akobel before he perished in their claws. You have either to tame them or use them. Anything else and they'll devour you from the inside out.

Angels are not supposed to feel love.

But Castiel looks at Dean — he looks at his naked raw face, at those eyes and mouth Castiel once held in his fingertips to bring him back to life — and he inhales deeply to quiet down the rabbit pulse of his heart beating between his borrowed ribs. He just looks at him.

And he feels.

#had this idea in the morning #and i NEEDED TO WRITE IT #im a sucker for cas' pov #but in an Angel Way #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel ficlet #dean winchester #supernatural #castiel #spn #casdean

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bisexualvampires · 1 year

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Castiel remembered the first frost on this infant planet. Recalled the majesty of each fallen snowflake, each so beautiful in vastly different shapes than the next. He remembered the first sunrise on the first ocean. The first breath of life in the first creature. The first light of the first stars.

He remembered the first sight of Dean Winchester’s soul in hell. Remembered each freckle, each pore, every hair on his head as he wove the stardust he was made of back into existence.

He remembered the first time he felt awe, felt curiosity, felt devotion. He felt all of it now as his life’s breath plumed between them in the icy air. Saw all the beauty in all of history in the green eyes studying him sheepishly in the way the angel was akin to when Dean thought he wasn’t looking. It was far from the first time Cas wished to close the distance between them. To taste and feel and experience the beauty and explosion of life and death and all things in between that was Dean Winchester. He’d imagined it many times on many nights, darker and less snowy than this.

But for the first time it seemed their story left them on the same page. Dean’s lips were warm upon his own. His hands nervous on the angel’s cheeks; his lashes brushing against Castiel’s own.

The universe was a vast thing. Full of infinite possibilities and timelines. Castiel had seen so much — felt so much regret and guilt, even before his inevitable fall. But for this moment with the miracle of Dean’s warm lips upon his own, the soft sigh of relief and frantic beat of his heart, it was worth the wait. All of it.

#happy holidays besties!! rest assured they are kissing rn 😌#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #my writing #ficlet

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stillwinchester · 11 months

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The smell is the first thing he forgets.

Cas always smelled solid, like earth before a thunderstorm. And also sweet, like cinnamon and ginger breads.

Dean doesn't have anything that could remind him of this smell. This time, there's no coat. There's nothing. So he forgets.

The sound of his voice is next.

Dean calls Cas every night till his voicemail is full. Just to hear his grumpy, deep voice. And then he starts forgetting. He tries not to, but he can't stop this. The same way he couldn't stop the Empty.

And then, one day, he wakes up and can't remind himself how Cas looked like. He panics. He remembers what he was wearing. He remembers his blue eyes. But the image of his face is blurry. And he wants to remember. He needs to remember.

The only thing what left him is the old jacket with the bloody handprint on the left shoulder and the words 'I love you' still alive in his head.

inspo

#supernatural #spn #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #destiel ficlet #destiel fic #my writing #mine

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youchangedmedestiel · 4 months

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dykeydean · 6 months

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read on ao3

"Look at us. Just a couple’a guys with daddy issues hangin’ out on the floor.” Dean leans his back against the edge of the bed. An empty bottle lays next to him, and he’s working his way through another.

“Look at us,” Castiel repeats. He’s sitting rigidly across from Dean, his back against the couch, his legs crossed neatly. He’s holding a beer that Dean has to remind him to drink from. It feels like blasphemy, it feels like religion.

“Y’know,” Dean starts, looking up at the ceiling, because he can only look at those eyes for so long, “I always knew I was disappointing one father. Never knew I was disappointing two.”

Castiel doesn’t respond. He’s always been kinda bad at this- conversation, that is. Talking, instead of just listening. Dean doesn’t tease him about it, this time. He’s grateful to have someone to talk to.

“You ever feel like that?” Dean asks, tipping his head back down to catch Castiel’s gaze. “Like you’re screwing everything up?”

Castiel is silent for a moment, and at first Dean thinks he isn’t going to say anything. Typical of Dean to overstep like that. But, finally, the angel speaks. “Yes,” he says hesitantly. “It is… difficult. When your father is God. To feel as if… you’re doing it all wrong. Not to receive back any fraction of the devotion you have given Him.” He pauses. “That was blasphemous.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, lifting his beer and motioning for them both to drink. A toast, to disappointing your father. “Think my whole life has been blasphemous.”

“Mine is only just beginning to be. It is terrifying.”

“Does it scare you? To… to think stuff?”

“So much,” Castiel confesses.

“Yeah.” Dean looks up at the ceiling again. Same popcorn ceiling as always, just different shaped stains. Motels don't differ much. If he tries, he can imagine he's twelve again, gripping a shotgun and staring up at the ceiling in bed, waiting for his dad to come home. “My dad- he might as well have been God, for all I cared. He created my whole world, and left over and over again. Hell, at least I got some sorta closure for mine.” He fixes Castiel with an apologetic look. “You don't really have that.”

“Fathers are often Gods,” Castiel says, turning his face away. Dean nods and sets his empty glass to the side, reaching out to pluck Castiel’s out of his hand. Castiel doesn't seem to mind. Fathers are often Gods. Dean turns it over in his head as he drinks. Maybe God is on Earth, the Holy Spirit spread between all the deadbeat dads of the world.

Dean gazes at Castiel and thinks it is so easy to look at the angel this way. When he's not looking, not fixing him with that intense stare, like he can see through into his very soul. Hell, he probably can. Sure has before.

“Can I ask you something?” Castiel says, turning back to Dean, who drops his gaze.

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever pray?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head. “Nope. Not once. Not even when my ma died.”

“But you pray to me.”

Dean scratches the back of his neck, looking embarrassed, looking anywhere but the too-raw angel across from him. “Yeah.” He doesn't elaborate. How could he?

Castiel doesn't press. Dean is grateful. They're silent for a few minutes, both staring up at the ceiling together. It might as well be the starry night sky, for the way they look at it. “I try so hard to be like him. To do the things I was meant to do,” Castiel says. “And yet, I find myself asking questions. Having doubts. Making choices and doing things that I was not ordered to do.”

“Rebellious phase,” Dean jokes, but he nods like he understands. He does. “Hell, Cas, I’m no angel, but I was raised like a soldier, same as you. I’ve been there.”

“How do you move past it?” Castiel whispers, and he looks so afraid, so honest that it rocks Dean to his core.

“Honestly?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods. Dean sighs and offers the beer back, and Castiel drinks it gratefully. Dean knows the feeling. “You don't. You ask the questions. You have the doubts. You do more than you were made for or you’re gonna spend your whole life following your dead dad’s footsteps. I won't exactly call myself a great role model for that, but it's all true.”

Castiel looks so pale. Dean wonders why angels even need blood in the first place, why he's not always pale. How this cosmic being can sit across from him and share a beer. He wonders what his dad would think. He decides he doesn't care- or at least, he prefers Cas’s company to his dad’s opinion.

“I think I am going to fall,” Castiel says quietly.

Dean nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Think you already are, buddy.”

#supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #ezra posts #writing #supernatural fic #fic #ficlet #drabble #my writing

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marvolord · 11 months

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Lines

“Can you tilt your face to the right? Just a little bit.”

Dean had to be careful not to drop his pencil. His palms were sweaty, no matter how hard he tried to calm himself.

„Like this?“ Cas asked. He lay on Dean’s bed, only dressed in thin cotton trousers.

The dim light hit Castiel’s skin in just the right way. It accentuated his facial features and gave depth to his muscles that were visible, now that the angel had rid himself of his shirt.

Dean took a deep breath and let his hand guide the pencil across the paper, let the pencil glide over the already sketched out lines until he found a rhythm.

Cas had found his old sketch book as they packed. Dean had never shown his work to anyone. He wasn’t an artist or anything like that. Drawing was just another way to release stress. At least it used to be.

And never had he been asked to draw someone. The people he drew were usually strangers, or his family based on memory.

When Cas had turned the pages to a drawing of himself, trenchcoat and all, standing in a field of grass next to a windmill, he had paused as his lips parted. He had looked at Dean then, and his gaze was so gentle that Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.

„Would you draw me now?“ Cas had asked. His voice was soft, almost unsure if he was allowed to break their silence.

„Of course.“

So Dean had asked him to make himself comfortable on the bed as he himself sat down in the chair at the desk.

That wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the evening, but he couldn’t deny that it excited him. It was the first time that his model was right in front of him and unmoving.

Cas lay perfectly still, his eyes the only movement Dean noticed. Cas observed him from his spot on the mattress. They didn’t speak unless it was about a change in position. The sound of the pencil on paper filled the room and after a while, managed to calm Dean’s nerves.

He didn’t know how long it took until he was satisfied with his work, but based on the pain in his neck, it took a while.

Dean licked his lips.

„Done.“

Cas began to move again. He sat up in bed and made space as Dean went over to him.

He carefully took the drawing from Dean’s hands, and the gentle expression found its way back onto his face.

Cas‘ fingers lightly brushed over the lines as he looked at it.

„Thank you, Dean.“

Dean let out a nervous laugh.

„Nothing to thank me for.“ Dean’s voice was quiet. He looked at Cas, let his gaze wander over his face and down to his chest. It was a nice chest.

When he looked up again, Cas smiled at him. It reached his eyes and let them appear bluer.

„What?“

„Didn’t you just spend hours looking at me?“ Cas tilted his head, and Dean knew the question was in good humour.

„Do you want me to stop?“

„No.“

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel ficlet #deancaskiss #tuserpris #thisisapaige #casblackfeathers #useranki #deanncastiel #justcastiel #usertila #becauseofthebowties #marvo writes #jennmish

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casdeans-pie · 8 months

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That trope when two people are sneaking around somewhere and nearly get caught so one of them drags the other into a passionate kiss and they escape notice.......

That. but it's season 6 painfully-pining-for-each-other Castiel and Dean.

They're sneaking around a building for a hunt when they both realise that they're about to get caught and there's nowhere to go.

Cas quickly turns around and slams Dean against a wall and suddenly they're kissing.

They're kissing and kissing and Dean is making noises into Cas's mouth and he's pulling him in as close as he can and Cas is pressing against him as close as he can and Dean's hands are diving deep into Cas's hair and the kissing just keeps going faster and deeper and hotter and they're pressed so close together and

Cas pulls back slightly and they're both panting (even though angels don't breathe) and Dean blinks a few times like he's coming out of a dream (even though Cas never stops in his dreams) and he says softly, What. the fuck. was that????

Cas looks wrecked. His hair is a mess and his blue eyes are glowing and he stares at Dean while he tries to catch his breath (even though angels don't breathe) and Dean stares back (even though Dean's eyes keep flicking back to Cas's mouth) and Cas eventually rumbles, I had to touch your skin to make you invisible with me.

Dean licks his lips and takes a deep breath through his nose but neither of them have moved and they're still pressed against the wall and they're still pressed against each other and Cas is still only inches from his face

And yeah the monsters must have gone. so it obviously worked. but

Dean swallows hard. He searches Cas's face and he thinks and he hopes and he already knows what he wants the answer to be when he asks, Why didn't you just touch my forehead? Or uh- hold my hand?? Fly us away???

And Cas just stares. and stares and stares. He brings his fingers up to touch Dean's lips gently. so so gently. and Dean can't help it when he parts them slightly and he sighs and

Cas disappears to the sound of wingbeats

Dean throws his hands up and yells, OH, C'MON!

#Dean 5 seconds after Cas made out with him: but does he LIKE like me???#destiel #destiel ficlet #i love it when theyre mutually pining idiots #deancas #castiel's angel powers #spn ficlet #castiel #dean winchester #pie's projects #destiel headcanon

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envythemouse · 16 days

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This plot bunny has been hopping around my head for months now

Sam de-ages himself to get Castiel and Dean together but ends up liking being their little Sammy a bit too much.

When they finally get together Sam doesn't really want to change back to his grown-up self, because he's never been so happy before and he loves being close to Cas and Dean.

So basically...

Sam wants his brother and angel to date so both of them can be happy.

He devises a plan to get them together.

De-aging himself is the solution, obviously.

Cas and Dean don't know that Sam has all his adult memories.

Sammy finally gets to be a child and be free all while performing his masterplan.

Dean has always been Sammy's daddy dearest and so when Sammy meets Cas he asks "Are you my new mommy?"

Yes, they're parents now. (Until they find a way to change Sam back of course.)

Even though Sam has his memories, he feels much more sensitive than usual and has difficulties controlling his emotions.

e.g. He starts crying when he trips.

Sammy having a nightmare and asking to sleep in bed with Dean like usual, asking confusingly why Cas isn't going to bed with them -> our little boy deserves to be sandwiched by Destiel <3

Sammy not liking salads anymore and sitting in Dean's or Cas' lap when eating because he can't get high enough to eat properly and needs to be spoonfed.

Dean enjoys spoiling Sammy in ways he couldn't before because they didn't have a lot of money back then or a proper home.

Dean missed seeing his brother so happy and carefree.

Castiel sees Sam's soul getting brighter everyday and finally healing.

Sam gets to ask Cas all the questions he always wanted to ask, but didn't have the courage for: "Dean says you're an angel, does that mean you can fly? Where is heaven? Are your wings white? Can I touch them? Do angels marry? Can you heal people? Does it hurt when you lose feathers??"

Dean calls Sam baby and Sam loves that even though he didn't when he was little the first time, Dean notices and wonders why it doesn't bother Sammy anymore.

Eventually Cas and Dean get together but by then Sammy doesn't really want to be big again because he doesn't want to stop being loved by his parents Cas and Dean.

Dean catches on to what's going on and together they all find a solution everyone is happy with, can be anything: Sammy growing up all over again the normal way, turning him back to his adult self but still caring for him and spending time together, having a magical ring so he can change his age at will in case they're on a hunt or there is an emergency... just anything happy.

Sorry, I have a very soft spot for Cas and Dean being parental towards Sam. You have no idea.

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dontlikeconflict · 3 months

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Silence Over Coffee (short destiel drabble)

Cas take a moment to look at Dean Winchester. He’s holding this tenseness about him that he never seems to quite get rid of, a stance of masculinity that he grips with both hands to get through every day. Right now he’s pouring creamer in his coffee, and haphazardly tipping in sugar, not seeming to care if he uses too much. “I love you” Cas thinks, and Dean looks up almost as if he hears. Cas thinks about saying it like he’s thought so many times before, but the moment passes. Dean makes a joke, Cas doesn't get it. He laughs anyway.

Dean makes a joke, Cas laughs, and Dean hopes he can always make Cas laugh, it seemed like he was always the only one who could. He wants to spend his life, gently pulling laughs from Cas, a substitute for all the things he truly wants to say, a substitute for the kind of honesty that would shatter Dean.

Sometimes a part of Cas (maybe the part that's an angel, maybe the part that defied his angelic side) wants to take control of Dean's life. Play God in the most blasphemous way. He would steer Dean away from all that harms him, make sure he is warm and safe and loved, even if that love was facilitated by distance (as God or a father’s love always seems to be). But Cas isn't God, or a father. He is a messy excuse of a creature, and all he wants is to be up close. To run his eyes over every part of Dean, as if they were hands, and know him more every day.

Cas stares so much. It makes Dean uncomfortable at times, not because it's bad (not really) but because he doesn't know what to do with it. He can't look back for too long, the intensity burns him, but he can't say a word. He looks at his coffee cup instead, giving it all his misplaced attention as he takes a sip (its too sweet)....

When he looks up Cas is still looking, he’s so obvious it hurts. Truly it is not Cas’ gaze that bothers him, but the forever-watching eyes of everyone else. He’ll never be allowed to enjoy love, there are too many anchors, too many eyes, too many claws. Dean is a survivor, but he does not get to live.

The waitress comes over, one of the men is bold, flirty, nothing she hasn't seen before, but the other guy is unreadable, looking at the bold man with a look that could be love or hatred, depending on the angle. Neither of them orders food, just more coffee.

Cas watches Dean flirt with the waitress and wonders if his vessel is a barrier. If he forced his Grace into a beautiful woman would this be easier? It would. But for a long time now, this body has become Cas’ home. It isn't Jimmy Novak, it isn't a vessel, this is Castiel’s body. This is his home, and god (please), he wants Dean to love it as it is. He wants to beg for it, but he knows that's not what Dean needs, knows it wouldn't work. Maybe Cas should do it anyway, just to be honest. Just for something real between them.

I love you, I would go with you anywhere, even if it's just this diner, right now, drinking coffee.

#castiel #cas and dean #castiel novak #dean winchester #destiel #dean x castiel #deancas #deancas fic #destiel fic #ficlet #jimmy novak #castiels vessel #I headcannon Cas as origionally not understanding gender #but gaining a perception of it that's unique to him as he learns more about humanity #he's still not “a man”#but he likes how he presents as one #he wouldnt feel comfortable permenantly being perceived in a feminine vessel anymore #thats just how i headcanon him

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annmariethrush · 2 months

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Keep having brain worms about Cas confessing under different circumstances and Dean immediately getting angry cause if Cas has been in love with him as long as he’s been in love with Cas then they’ve wasted so many years that they could have spent together 😭

So here’s part of the WIP

#destiel WIP #destiel ficlet #destiel fic #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #casdean #S15 but Cas doesn’t die #post-Chuck shenanigans #there’s a misunderstanding #but they work it out

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nayeliq1 · 1 year

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June 12th, prompt: Adventure

Grey has overtaken Dean's hair.

His skin has gone soft and wrinkly, his knees crack every time he crouches down, his steps have become slower, his arms weaker.

But that's okay, that's just what old age is like. He's just lucky he gets to experience it at all, and with Cas by his side - equally grey, equally wrinkly. Getting old really isn't all that bad when you get to watch the love of your life doing it alongside you.

Today, Jack has told them. Dean had known it was coming, it's alright.

"You ready?", Dean asks that night, a wrinkly hand searching for Cas' under the blanket.

"Yes." Cas squeezes his fingers, smiling calmly. And despite the lump in his throat, Dean isn't afraid, and he knows neither is Cas. "I've been ready for some time."

"I know, sweetheart."

"Are you scared?"

Dean's heart is beating a little too fast, but he shakes his head.

"Not really", he says truthfully. "Bit nervous, maybe. But hey, that's what imminent death will do to ya."

"It'll be fine, Dean." Cas pulls Dean's hand to his lips, presses a kiss to skin marked by age spots. "We'll be together in the Heaven our son built for us. If you know it's not the end, death is nothing but the next great adventure."

Cas is right, of course.

"And I can't wait to go on that adventure with you."

"See you soon", Cas smiles right before they close their eyes. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

Dean falls asleep with a feeling of peacefulness filling his whole body, and when he opens his eyes again, their bedroom is gone. He stands on a bridge surrounded by forest, body young and strong. Baby is there, but he doesn’t get in. He waits.

There's a shift in the breeze, a presence in his back.

"Hello, Dean."

And Dean smiles.

Let the adventure begin.

For @starcrosseddeancas Dreamy Drabbles

#this is far too long I'm so sorry #but eeeeeh we can let it get a bit out of hand as a land hurray on the last challenge day yeah?#dreamy drabbles #last day of dreamy drabbles #this went by so fast whut #destiel drabble #inspired by the ending of my fix-it fic #spn drabble #destiel ficlet #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #dean winchester gets to get old #as he deserved #cas is the love of deans life yall #drabble prompt: adventure #soft destiel #destiel fluff #my writing

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wigglebox · 2 years

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Suptober - Day 1;

Maze/Maize

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