#i have so many thoughts about dean keeping cas' coat

[hxnnibxi]

do you think sam watched everytime dean transferred cas' coat into the new vehicle they were slumming in?? do you think he saw how badly cas' death hurt dean? do you think sam watched his brother in silence because he didn't know what to day?? because he knew dean would never admit what he really felt?

#i have so many thoughts about dean keeping cas' coat #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas

[missroserose]

Whumptober Day 15: Lies

Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap-

Sam’s running shoes hit the lake path with a rhythmic sound, somewhere between a thud and a smack.  He left his earbuds at home, today; there’s something about the newly-chill autumn weather, something about the tumult of his thoughts, that demands the sort of quiet Zen-style presence-absence (mindfulness, he’s heard it called, but the term brings to mind a few too many new-age witchy types) best suited to rumination.  The morning is worth appreciating—a bank of fog over the lake, shrouding the cool water in grey mist; the yellow-gold leaves, prepared to showcase their brilliance once the warming sunshine makes its appearance; the light, still caught behind clouds but growing brighter, promising a warm day.

Not yet, though—the chilly air flows in through Sam’s nose, expands his lungs, then back out in misty breaths, his own small contribution to the morning fog.  A damp patch spreads on his chest, sweat soaking through the fabric (technical fabric, Charlie had told him when she gave it to him for his birthday, it breathes better, only masochists run in cotton T-shirts anymore) and evaporating.  And for all the serene indifference of his surroundings, his mind is a tumult of emotion—visions of Dean’s face, twisted in rage as he gestures with his Marked arm—Sam’s own fear, concern, anger, loss—

“May I join you?”

Sam blinks.  Another figure is running next to him—more than a little comical in a blue suit, beige trench coat, business shoes.  Nobody seems to have explained the concept of proper running gear to Castiel; but then, Sam supposes, it’s not as if he has to worry about blisters or shin splints—”Of course.”

“Thank you.”  Cas keeps pace without any apparent effort despite Sam’s longer legs and sweaty face.  “I thought it might be good to talk.”

“Not that I don’t—enjoy our talks,” Sam says, dropping to a jog so as to maintain enough breath to speak, “but couldn’t it—wait until I get back—to the bunker?”

“I wanted to speak to you alone,” Cas clarifies.

Sam tries to interpret this; his efforts draw a total blank.  “Without Dean?”  It’s so rare, that Cas is outside of Dean’s orbit—even rarer that Sam is, now that he considers it.  “What’s this about?”

To his further surprise, Cas doesn’t answer right away.  For a few minutes, they jog together in sync, and Sam idly wonders if Cas hasn’t simply decided to take up running, perhaps embarking upon some sort of vessel-maintenance plan—

“Devotion,” Cas says.

Sam’s mind narrows its focus considerably.  Cas didn’t want to say this to Sam in front of Dean, which suggests that it’s about Dean, and probably about their relationship, and furthermore almost certainly something Dean wouldn’t want talked about.  But, devotion—

“What about it?” Sam asks.

“You and Dean.  You’ve been devoted to each other your whole lives.”  Straight to the point, as usual.  “To a degree I’ve observed to be unusual among humans.”

“I’m not sure I’d say our whole lives,” Sam puts in slowly, memories of his years at Stanford surfacing the way they tend to do these days—faded, nearly sepia-toned, an entirely different Sam with an entirely different perspective at the center of them.  But Dean—Dean’s face, smooth and unlined, eyes bright with hope and guilt in equal measure, shoulders hunched under Dad’s jacket that was always too large for him—Dean burns bright, casts color across the images like the sun burning off fog.  “But yeah, I guess you’re right.  We haven’t really had many other people to rely on.”

“Your allies have a habit of dying suddenly,” Cas responds, breathtakingly blunt as always.  “Yet even now, you remain devoted.”

“What do you mean, ‘even now’?  The Mark?”  Sam shakes his head.  “Cas, we knew what we were getting into.”

“Did you?”  It’s difficult to watch Cas’ face for cues while they jog, but the dry tone is unmistakable. 

“Well, not entirely,” Sam amends.  “But that’s the thing.  We usually don’t know what we’re getting into.  We do it anyway, because it needs doing, and because we know we’re in each other’s corner.”  He shrugs, though the motion is probably lost.  “Yeah, Dean’s been difficult, lately.  But I’ve gotta be here for him, because next time it might be me.”

“And do you think Dean would return the favor?  In his current state?”

Sam has to think about that one.  “I don’t know,” he admits.  “The Mark seems to bring out the worst in him—but devotion is part of the fabric of who he is.  For better and for worse.  So…I hope so.”

“Devotion can be expressed many ways,” Cas agrees.  “I suppose…I simply wonder.  Angels are devoted by nature—we’re created to serve God, or most of us are.  Humans are usually far more conditional in their allegiance.”  Another moment, and then—”I wonder sometimes if the human model isn’t the healthier one.”

Sam barks out a short laugh.  “You think I’m unhealthily devoted to Dean?”

“It’s not my place to judge, Sam.  I am a watcher, and so I have watched.  I’ve seen him lie to  you—about his relationships, about how he treats you, about your own experiences.  I’ve seen him trick you into playing host to an angel, a profound violation of your bodily autonomy that had deadly consequences.  I’ve seen him terrorize you, physically attack you with an axe—”

“He wasn’t himself, then,” Sam objects.

“Of course not, he was a demon.  Just as now he carries the Mark.  Or before you were dying.  There’s always some excuse.”  A pause.  “Were he anybody else, I would wonder if he were manufacturing crises to avoid having to address the consequences of his actions.”

Were the subject anything lighter, Sam would tease Cas for watching too much Dr. Phil—but there’s enough to his words that he has to slow down to consider.  It’s ludicrous, of course; Dean couldn’t have known how his gaslighting over Purgatory would send Sam into a spiral of suicidal guilt, nor how tricking Sam into hosting Gadreel would’ve caused Kevin’s death—Sam sucks in a breath—forces his thoughts past that—just as hey hadn’t known how taking up the First Blade would end up leading Dean to becoming a demon, just as they had no idea what removing the Mark might eventually unleash—

Sam starts to laugh.  It’s a strange laughter, dry and choking;  he only just makes it to a bench to collapse upon as the fit takes hold of him.  Because it’s funny.  Funny and even true, in a way.   If anybody on this planet would conjure up a constant string of end-of-the-world threats to avoid having to apologize and account for himself, it’d be Dean—

Cas is looking at him with an expression of concern.  “Sam.  Are you having a seizure?  Your brain activity is—disorganized.”

“I’m—fine,” he manages to gasp.  He is, or will be, although now that he’s stopped moving the chill is starting to soak through his technical-fabric shirt.  “I just.  What do you want me to do?  It’s not like I can break up with him.”   A shrug, helpless.  “He’s—”   He makes a gesture, trying to encompass everything Dean is to him.  My brother.  My savior.  My torturer.  My partner.  My guardian.  My responsibility.

Cas sits next to him, unruffled despite his unaccustomed jog.  “I don’t know,” he says.  “Devotion comes easily to me; I have difficulty even envisioning an alternative.”  A frown.  “Though he does not make it easy, especially now.”

“Yeah.”  Sam takes in a breath, sighs it out.  The sun is up over the trees, painting their tops brilliant gold; slowly, the air begins to warm around them.  “He must be one lucky jerk, having the two of us in his corner.”

“Fortunate indeed,” Cas says.  “I only hope he grows to understand it.”

Together, they watch the mist over the lake burn away.

#whumptober2022 #supernatural #sam winchester #castiel #my writing

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 08x17 Goodbye Stranger

There’s a fun fact about this episode I’m going to tell you once we get there

“Does he know his gun’s hanging out?” “At least that’s a better death than getting stabbed by a nail on the wall” Why is Cas only killing Deans? There’s no Sam

“Doesn’t everybody hate Sam?” “probably” “are we really just playing with shit?” “that’s what they all say’ laughter

“Ya’ll got something in common. Collecting girly magazines” You wouldn’t even have girly magazines if it weren’t for me

Laughter “That fkn smile” “this season is ridiculous. It’s a totally different show, ya know” “MOSS” 🎶yellow and green🎶

“I didn’t understand anything he just said” “Hair” “and this is the only copy” “ball handler” It’s Cas

“Lighting much” “they can just pause reality? I wish I had that power” “it would be an autism super power” “strange hair huh? The curlers lady” yeah dean

Laughter

“That doesn’t kill demons?” He just stabbed the hands “This lady won’t be able to do her hair again” laughter

“Uh huh” laughter

“They really went all out on her makeup. Extra bloody” “Man, they could have gone all out on the Star Wars jokes. Meg, you’re our only hope” “I love how Cas is so bad at keeping secrets. They can’t even make it a whole episode. Then he ganks a demon and the truth comes out. Not even 15 minutes later” laughter

“He can’t just heal the demon body. Couldn’t Meg smoke out then heal the vessel?” “I feel like that’d be a lot easier than all this shit” “That was such a weird thing to say” “what the fuck is she drinking?” “Goddamn it. I keep missing what she’s saying” laughter

Laughter

“That was so awkward but kinda good. I enjoyed that” “whoever was on the microphone boom hovered that shit right over Jensen” laughter

“Cas doesn’t know these references” “stand back or off to the side works too” “wait what” She possessed him once

“Isn’t that obvious? Isn’t that everybody?” laughter

“She wants to have fun with the unicorn” “Is Cas lying again? No? I wouldn’t think so idk” “They spent way too much time on Dean’s hair” “We’ve got a standoff” “How long have they been talking? Holy shit” laughter

“It’s cool editing” “He just fucked off with your magic juice” “that was easy” “new coat of paint” “Exactly” “why the fuck would he word it like that” laughter

Gee I wonder what broke the connection

“Aww. Does she never come back?” “Is that the last of Meg?” Until S15

“What happens in S15?” “huh. I don’t really like Naomi that much I guess” “I mean is it so much to ask?” “How many times have we gone through this? It’s one of the most frustrating things in the show. This back and forth lying and splitting up on the job” The fun fact is that it was supposed to be I Love You instead of I Need You “they mean kinda the same thing” “going on a little world tour with the tablet. Taking selfies with it. This is me in Paris. This is me here. This is me there”

#beautifulspouserewatchesspn #supernatural rewatch #supernatural #supernatural s8

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 204

Meta Fiction/Nightmare in Silver

“Meta Fiction”

Plot Description: Metatron tries to persuade Castiel to join him, and the Winchesters finally capture Gadreel, who tries to play Dean’s Mark of Cain against him

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: um. So no one dies but you got a real creepy breaking of the fourth wall from Metatron

And then we open the actual episode with a…not short Dean shower scene

Hello? Cas? Where tf are you and why are there that many dead angels and WHAT IS THAT SIGIL? AND WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO USE A SMARTPHONE?!

Omg Metatron is luring angels with a sound that is reminiscent of heaven and then forcing them to either join him or die…

People (angels, really) keep trying to force Castiel into leadership roles or at the very least right hand man roles…it is…exhausting and my baby’s tired

Oh…oh his little smile when he heard Dean’s voiiiiiiiice on the phone omg

Oh, if he’s getting a weird message via Casa Erotica…does that mean…Gabriel?? Or can Metatron manipulate it too? Would he? GABRIEL!!!!!!!!!!

GABRIEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok but I kinda don’t trust that it’s really him…for a bunch of reasons. I know that he said they’re gonna go on a Kill Metatron Mission, but idk man

Ah, man, that guy was fun, he didn’t deserve that

Ok but I like this conversation between Gabe and Cas. I hope it’s real. I really want it to be real so bad. Castiel is so trusting…he deserves a win

Oh…no…I knew it was too good to be true. Of course Gabriel’s not real. Of course it was just a plot to get Cas to hear Metatron out (because that’s what it said in the summary) but DAMN.

He’s been CAPTURED by Metatron?! I kind of thought he was actually talking to Castiel and not the viewer

I’m not saying the stuff with the Winchesters is boring this episode, but the Castiel stuff is WAY more interesting. The boys are just cornering and capturing Gadreel right now. If something cool happens, I’ll say, but this is the Cas show tonight

Castiel has had cultural knowledge added to his inventory, Metatron has LITERALLY info dumped every story he’s consumed over a couple millennia into Cas’s brain

Did Metatron write his OWN SUPERNATURAL BOOKS?? Did he technically write fanfiction?? “Fix it” fic?

Oh. No no no no no no…I don’t like Metatron’s plan.

(Ok…Dean telling Gadreel that he’s going to pay for what he did to Sam and Kevin….*tucks hair behind ear*)

Why’s Gadreel so desperate to die?? Oh, because the alternative is being left to rot in chains like he did after he allowed the snake into Eden

Well and now I don’t trust that this trade (Gadreel for Cas) is real

Mmmmmmmmm, now Castiel knows about the Mark of Cainnnnnnnnnn

Is Cas’s new coat shorter? I don’t like it…

Uh ohhhhhhhh. Is Gadreel starting to potentially lose faith in Metatron??

Not gonna lie. Did not like that ending. I know it will lead to interesting things but damn. The dead behind the eyes look Dean had, Cas using the sigil calling angels to him to lead them…all the while it looks like Metatron is at least controlling the latter part of that

“Nightmare in Silver”

Plot Description: Hedgewick’s World of Wonders theme park is ground zero for a Cybermen resurrection

I love how difficult it is to impress the girl Clara babysits. Either that or she’s playing difficult to impress and that’s even smarter when you’re already traveling in the TARDIS

Oh. Oh I HATE that. The little…cyberbugs crawling out of the cyberman and onto the theme park dude and Angie’s phone (which doesn’t even have service, no wonder she’s bored with the future and in space)

Ok, I’m trying to remain defensive of Angie but it’s getting harder. CLARA shows up and ruins everything??

Oh, no. Oh wait…the weird chess game between the Doctor and…. “It’s me, Doc. It’s me the Cyberman speaking to you inside your brain. Listen to me, Doc! Leave the girl and the kids, we don’t need them!” It’s still cool to reference the PS5 inside your brain right??

I mean, it’s really good acting on Matt’s part, but no one else is doing anything and it’s hard to make any commentary

Oh yeah, the other half of the plot is a standoff between Clara and generic militaryish leader of the week over when it might or might not be time to blow up the planet. Also Warwick Davis is there

Oh NO!! I mean, of course there was going to be an army of cybermen

Mmmm, the weird flirty relationship between them is still icking me. Even when it’s the Cyberman in his head saying the things

The almost immediate upgrades the cybermen can do is scary

Well, they DID explode the planet.

1000 galaxies is way too much responsibility, can’t blame Clara for turning down being empress

It’s still really weird that Eleven has such part time companions.

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

[mlobsters]

supernatural s7e1 meet the new boss (w. sera gamble)

is this the first time they've used slow ride? i've thought about doing an edit to it because it's very spn/them/dean. the only thing i liked about the part of the new top gun movie i watched was how they used it in the bar. ha (#i have a hardon for fighter jets and fast bikes like anyone else but come on) slow ride. sleazy.

excessive zoom made me laugh the first time too

CASTIEL Sam, you have nothing to say to me; you stabbed me in the back.

lol. god in this fucking tan trench coat

CASTIEL I thought the answer was free will. But I understand now. You need a firm hand. You need a father. And I am your father now. Be obedient, children.

sorry i just keep laughing. this should be serious but i'm having a hard time finding it anything but comical

DEAN Imma fix this car. Because that's what I can do. I can work on her 'til she's mint. And when Sam wakes up, no matter what shape he's in, we'll glue him back together too. We owe him that.

♥️

haha amazing. cas is doING GREAT with all this newfound power

DEAN Seriously though, Bobby. Look at our lives. How many more hits can we take? So, if Sam says he's good.. GOOD.

BOBBY You believe that?

DEAN Yeah.

DEAN hesitates for a moment.

DEAN No. You wanna know why? because we never catch a break. So why would we this time? I just.. just this one thing. You know? but I'm not dumb. I'm not going to get my hopes up just to get kicked in the daddy-pills again.

a) i was hoping sam would tell dean what was going on but now we get instead of him overhearing something that ensures he'll hide it sigh b) daddy-pills??? *shudder*

CROWLEY: Is everybody's boss. What do you think he's going to do if he finds out we've been conspiring? You do you want to conspire, don't you?

cheap but sheppard always puts his back into those and comes out funny

this extended chest burster scene with cas, okay. who could have predicted trapping millions of souls into a ... human vessel? angel? anything?? and just keeping them in there would go wrong!!

good old untitled 1 and 2,

*quirky heist music*

why are they doing the spell in the house they are currently burgling?? haha this quick cuts of them doing the spell stuffs

DEAN You're welcome.

okay.

DEATH This is about Sam's hallucinations, I assume?

well look at that, not even an episode before the the cat's out of the bag. that's a good thing for me at least

SAM No, I don't. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself, and you never gave up on me.

DEAN Yeah, and it turns out that you're about the same open book as you've always been. Hallucinations? Really? I got to find out from Death?

SAM What was I supposed to do?

DEAN How about not lie? How about tell me that you've got crazy crap climbing those walls?

SAM Why? You can't help. You got a lot of pretty severe crap swinging your way lately, and -- and I thought --what? I thought why burst the one good bubble you had left? It's under control.

💔

so sam is gonna try to appeal to castiel. talk about turning the other cheek

SAM Hey, Castiel. Um… Maybe this is pointless. Look… I don't know if any part of you even cares, but, um, I still think you're one of us, deep down. I mean, way, way, way off the reservation, but…

if they keep saying cas is a family member, will i one day believe it?

well this lucifer hallucination is horrifying. good job

CASTIEL I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you.

how about fixing sam's brain that you scrambled! misha's getting a workout. now he gets to be leviathan(s). had to drag out sam's hallucinations somehow while also dealing with the souls business

death is a fun character, i'm glad he's continuing to pop in

#supernatural #spnwatch #sera gamble #spn 7x01

[akumastrife]

What A Wonderful Life {SPN // Fic Advent Day 8}

Retirement was a good look for them, Dean often thought, and couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten so lucky.

{Part 2}

Dean spent a lot of the time in the kitchen. It was both a necessity (Claire was still learning with little interest beyond functionality, while Cas took too many instructions at face value and missed nuance and variability in a recipe) and a joy.

Cooking was a creativity not yet fully afforded to him, and he was exploring it as far as it could go. It was different and constructive, and a way of caring for his family that did not require words or vulnerability.

It was evenings like this—the sun setting early and frost thick around the windows—that made him think of his mom, and if she was doing the same at his age. Standing at a sink washing vegetables, radio on soft rock, sigils carved in every line of trim and salt packed in the house foundation.

He glanced over at Claire on her laptop at the bar, and stopped thinking about Mary.

She’d had this first, and had it ripped away.

Dean had fought tooth and nail for it now, and would keep it as long as he could without jinxing it.

“We should go to the mall tomorrow,” Claire said.

Dean grunted, flicking vegetable scraps at her. “You have a car. Take yourself to the mall.”

“But we need to finish getting gifts for dad.”

“Oh okay, you mean you want me to pay for them.”

“And bond, obviously,” Claire scoffed.

Dean arched an eyebrow.

“And like, they’re nice things. Things Dad should have. And I don’t have that kinda cash.”

Dean hummed, even though he was already considering it. It couldn’t hurt. Get a couple more things for Cas, stop at that fancy kitchen store that just opened on the second floor, hit up the food court. It didn’t sound like a bad day. And he was a sucker.

John would’ve never considered it, would’ve berated him for being frivolous and spoiled.

He was trying very hard not to be like John.

“Can I get my belly button pierced?”

“What? No!”

“But Marci just got hers and its, like, really cute. And I could get—”

“It’s impractical, gonna get infection, and frankly, trashy.”

“Wow, okay, didn’t know you had one. When did you become some sort of expert.”

“In girls who had those piercings, hell yeah.”

“Pops, ew!”

“Exactly,” he said, gesturing at her with a carrot. “Keep that idea in your head—”

“Gross, oh my god, you’re the worst.”

“—and wait until you’re eighteen, if you’re still so set on it.”

Claire groaned loud and long, swaying on the stool and nearly sending herself toppling out of it.

“All done!” shouted a triumphant Cas, and a moment later he appeared in the doorway beaming. Flushed cheeks, clear eyes, hair damp and a nightmare from his hat.

And after all those years, still enough to make Dean’s heart skip and clench. Had to smile back, as stupid as it felt.

“Thought you were gonna take a spill off the roof,” he said, instead of anything sappy or gross.

Cas just shook his head, shaking off his coat. “I would never. That’s the point of wings.”

Dean laughed softly and tilted his head out without thought, shifting and reaching to accommodate Cas’ lean into kiss his cheek as he passed him as intrinsic as shifting in an automatic.

It was muscle memory; it was felt in his gut; it was a push-and-pull that had always been between them that Dean was only just recently learning not to be scared of.

“I see you’re in… full swing,” Cas said carefully.

Dean didn’t look away from his stove top covered in steaming pots, and knew what the rest of the kitchen looked like under the flour-dusted rolling pins and multitude of pyrex dishes covering most surfaces.

“I’m right on schedule,” Dean shot back, a little barbed. “Deloris can take her store-bought pumpkin pie and shove it up her ass.”

Cas sighed, audibly fond, as he leaned in for another glancing kiss. Assured him, “Your pies are the best for miles, everyone knows that. You have ribbons to prove it.”

“But Deloris still brings her garbage,” Dean seethed, whisking faster.

“Deloris can go suck a dick,” Claire sang. “Nick was telling me the other day she was planning on making a sugar plum one this year. For the potluck.”

The frequency on the radio buzzed and skipped, before resuming; Dean’s whisking stopped all at once.

He turned to her. “I’m making the pies. I signed up to make the pies.” Waved his whisk around fast and sharp as he spoke, splattering browned-butter and sugar onto the counter. “No one else should be worried about bringing pies. She’s trying to one up me. Oh, that bottle-blonde bimbo has another things coming.”

Hands dropped to his shoulders, squeezing and turning him to look at Case. “Dean,” Cas interrupted gravely. “The woman is sixty-seven.”

“And trying to push me out.”

“Dean.”

“She’s a menace and a fraud.”

Cas’ eyes crinkled in mirth. “I’m not saying I don’t agree with you. But also maybe take it easy. Everyone knows yours are the best. It’s flattering, that she feels threatened by you.”

“Noted,” Dean said. He got back to whisking. “And she’s not threatened by me. Not yet, she ain’t, I’ll show her what a threat really is.”

“Yes, dear,” Cas relented.

The endearment was not new, and yet still it always sent a little drip of warmth down Dean’s chest into his stomach. “How’s the lights looking,” he asked instead, clearing his throat.

“All working. Trimmed everything, put the icicles up, and even wrapped the porch. And I, uh, removed your handiwork.”

“That was the best dick I’ve ever made from lights. And trust me, it is not easy.”

“I still think two years ago was best,” Claire said.

“Be that as it may, I got three voicemails from the Home Owner’s Association.”

“Oh yeah? Darryl can suck a dick, too, then. He doesn’t recognize talent.”

“You can make a snowman and give it a penis, if you’d like.”

“I think I would like. Supposed to snow tomorrow.”

“In the back yard,” Cas amended.

“You’re no fun, babe,” but Dean flashed a grin and tugged Cas in for a proper kiss anyway.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #claire novak #christmas themed #fanfic advent 2022 #my writing

[steveyockey]

just curious about your thoughts/reading of the show, but when do you think dean realized he was in love with cas? and do you think he thought cas loved him back?

the short answer to this would be

the longer answer is I don’t think that these are the terms under which dean conceptualizes his feelings. it’s the advantage of leaving things unspoken — there’s no need for this level of reflection. bluntly, dean doesn’t really “realize” anything. the joy of dean is that he is a character of feeling and action with precisely no metacognition. this is in part strategic, seeing as he’s less a person and more a carefully coiled set of contradictions. dean can only perform as himself as long as he doesn’t think about it, and, of all the things he specifically can’t think about, cas is the focal. 

this forms a neat inversion because all cas does is perceive dean. dean looks at cas under the threat of being seen, or “realized” as you might say, because cas is the only character who can see him, including himself. this puts the audience and cas on an relatively equal playing field for understanding dean’s feelings toward him since it all has to be conveyed through the gaze (or the absence of the gaze). this still doesn’t actually give us any insights into dean’s perception but perhaps instead reinforces that any conclusions we draw about what dean is sensing can only be based on his (re)actions in response to what he thinks others see. he’s not perceiving, but he is acting under an awareness of perception. this is a little complicated so I’m going to try to break it down using the moment I think (and you could disagree with me here but that’s for a different post) we first see that dean is in love with cas, which would be

which is followed by a cut to cas lasting less than 2 seconds which is THEN followed by

wide-eyed concern smothered by knit-brow disgust. this is part of why I think the comparison of “the man who would be king” to portrait of a lady on fire is so absolutely bonkers not because dean is marianne (he IS still marianne in many ways! it’s not a clean translation between the texts, there’s no set “dynamic”) but because dean is ALSO heloise, whose matching shots here look like this (with a cut to a smiling/laughing marianne in between)

different circumstances so the initial emotion is coming from a different place, but it’s the same transition from open affection to closed anguish. I realize I’m getting a bit tangential here, but one of the things that stuck with me the most in terms of adele haenel’s comments on her performance in the film is the moment she said

“I told myself I would make a character who wouldn’t be a psychological unity, the way characters usually are – where they come from often leading to Freudian stuff, like, ‘I was traumatised [by] my mum and dad and that’s why I am the way I am.’ It’s not that that’s not interesting, but it’s a bit annoying after a while. So I thought I’d make a character who didn’t have an internal principle, except for the joy of shooting the scenes, except for the emotions born from acting. No internal logic. It’s a character who is distorted by being looked at.”

no internal logic! a character who is distorted by being looked at! emotions born from ‘acting.’ sure dean winchester has a fuckton of “Freudian stuff” going on, but to include an understanding of that in his inner monologue would require perception, which dean doesn’t have. he’s an actor, his approach to himself is much the same as adele’s approach to her character. he’s just playing the scene. here, emotions born from betrayal. a reaction that is then distorted by cas’s looking. he hasn’t perceived himself but he has been perceived! thus, on some level dean has an awareness that he was acting/showing love (which is then overwhelmed by revulsion) but not that he loves. which is the whole problem really. dean can act in ways that demonstrate his love for cas — keeping the trench coat across multiple cars even when he’s supposed to think cas is dead for good, the face cradle after the attack dog spell, the mixtape! — and also react to the perception that his relationship with cas is being observed by people who might read love into it — the way he slaps cas on the shoulder after sustaining eye contact with him for the face cradle, the closed fist hug in 12.09, his inability to look cas in the eye during the 12.12 love confession — but he can’t just. love him. not directly. not in a way that doesn’t give him the room to deflect his reality where it doesn’t meet his performance. because at the root of it is that for dean to love cas means that dean is not who has says he is but who he is in all the unspoken moments. it would unravel him completely! 

all of which is not to say actually I don’t think that on SOME level dean knows he loves cas. beyond the perceiving mind, beyond the performance. if we had to look at a scene where this is apparent, I would go for 

few key points of interest here being that 12.19 is the first time dean and cas see each other in person after 12.12, the ambiguous love confession. so, discreetly, the unspoken has already been spoken. dean doesn’t just subconsciously know cas loves him in a way that he has to deny to himself through eight different levels of repressed sexuality, he knows. it wasn’t said in an action it was said as an action, familial implications notwithstanding. this lack of physical contact also means dean has to have given cas the mixtape before 12.13, and I would postulate that there’s enough space between 12.12 and 12.13 (time we DON’T see on screen) for dean to make and give cas the mixtape. that action I don’t think constitutes awareness that he’s in love. THIS action in 12.19 does. because essentially the performance has been pulled to its furthest extent. cas acted (“I love you”) and dean reacted (mixtape). cas acted (returning the mixtape) and dean reacted (“you keep those”). the issue is that cas wasn’t acting as himself, he was scamming dean to get the colt. cas lied to dean to protect kelly. simple enough logic. but he played dean knowing how he would react, so now dean is reacting to cas’s understanding of dean’s feelings. for cas. in perceiving cas, dean has to perceive himself. he can’t make sense of cas’s actions if dean doesn’t in some way in this moment own up to his love for cas, which was only allowed to reach this point because cas went and said it. dean is confirming the mixtape as an affirmative response. and then kelly goes and steals dean’s car keys and cas dies and the recognition is basically preserved in amber, along with half a dozen other moments I would also say hew closer to dean confronting his love for cas (listing two more that I don’t have the time to dissect I would cite when miriam taunts dean over cas’s death and the look dean shares with jack and cas after jack gets his soul back), but I think 12.19 really sets the bar for the kind of dynamism that is required for dean to acknowledge the extent of his feelings. 

more pertinently, while I think these moments do make the case that dean knows he loves cas, I think they are generally overwhelmed in his psyche by the need to look away from that fact except when he physically has no other choice. he is aware the love exists! just generally not in a consciously comprehensible space, more like a shoebox of buried feeling that gets dumped out every now and again when he feels an ache in his chest and remembers that everyone he loves dies. he can’t love cas or he’ll ruin him. so he’ll love him in this sideways ambiguous co-parenting way the best he can and just not think about the rest. if you don’t say it or think it you can’t be made to lose it.

as far as whether dean knows cas loves him, I have an ask kind of on this topic (that I REALLY hope I didn’t contradict too much with this answer) but if I were to try to answer again, I would start here: the one thing that every angel is sure to tell dean is that his celestial companion is disgustingly distractingly in love with him and it’s the only reason he’s bothering to stick around. that’s the text of the show. the issue is that dean can’t believe that because it would mean he already ruined cas (which is obviously true from the moment cas touched his soul in hell but that’s far beyond dean’s capacity to see until the confession). so instead of acknowledging his feelings, dean tends to take away his agency — call him diminutive nicknames, equate him to an animal, attribute his brokenness to the nature of angels (“they just don’t have the equipment to care... when they try it just breaks them apart”). that doesn’t mean he’s unaware that cas loves him, perhaps more so that, like his love for cas, he needs to keep it incomprehensible. The state between spoken and unspoken where plausible deniability can be maintained. which is kind of just the whole structure of the queerbait but with textual stakes for the characters instead of meta stakes for the audience. 

dean and cas are in love and they behave in ways that can only be explained by being in love, but the realization of that love can only exist in unambiguous canonical verbalization. of course, dean still FEELS cas loves him. there’s a level of awareness where he must know. but to his conscious mind, until the confession, it only enters the realm of possibility, not the realm of truth. once it’s said of course, it can be understood that the awareness has always been there. dean knows cas loves him so dean knew cas loved him. if that makes ANY sense. it’s like a light switch held at the halfway point just before the bulb flickers on. it wasn’t OFF. but now it’s undoubtedly ON. all of which is to say. dean never “realizes” he loves cas or that cas loves him. he just knows it. and he knows that he can’t have it as much as cas can’t.

#classic ziz post where I don’t actually know that this adds up to anything coherent #but here we are! #anon #answered #here’s a gift for all of you. I’ll tag this long post. #ready? #whatever #ziz original #ziz watches spn #someone in the notes said the paragraphs were too long so I broke them up #idk if it helped but here we are

[wormstacheangel]

im suppose to be doing hw but i have a dumb brain so here. have a 15x19 destiel reunion. kinda.

Only a couple of hours after Cas was gone, Dean was still on the floor crying when the portal opened up, and Cas was thrown out of it. Cas lands on his back, and with a groan, he sits up to meet Dean’s red-rimmed eyes.

He looked concerned, but his voice was still even. “Hello, Dean.” Cas started to stand up, brushing himself off as he talked. “So the empty wants your help, and it brought me back as payment.”

Dean looked at him, thinking maybe his brain had finally had enough, and he had gone crazy. “Cas?”

“Should I find it offensive?” Cas walked over to Dean, a hand out to help him stand, but Dean only stared up at his face.

“Cas.”

When Dean made no move to take his hand, Cas dropped it. Instead, opting to hide them in his trench coat pockets. “I should explain that it’s a mess in the empty right now. So many are awake. It’s complete chaos. Too many tried to kill me, and while I did wonder what would happen to me if I died there, I realized I actually didn’t want to find out.”

Dean blinked up at him, confused. “Cas, you just died.” So why is he acting as if nothing happened?

“And now I’m back. That’s usually how things work for us. Now come on, we have work to do. Where’s Sam?”

Cas turns towards the door, ready to walk out when Dean’s phone rings. When the phone keeps ringing, he notices Dean made no move to answer it, so he walks back to answer it for him. Sam was yelling at the other side, panic, and fear mostly. Cas reassures him that Dean is fine, but he needs Sam and Jack to come straight over; they need to meet with the Empty at Death’s library to talk.

He hangs up and hands the phone back to Dean, who doesn’t reach to take it.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Cas pockets Dean’s phone before crouching down in front of him.

“No! No, dipshit, I’m not okay!”

“Oh,” Cas stands up again, making his way back to the door. “If it’s about before, then don’t worry, you don’t have to answer. I’m comfortable with just forgetting it ever happened. I did learn from the best.”

Cas winks at him; it looks forced. Pained.

Dean forced himself up, feeling his muscles tight and sore from not moving all those hours, and strode over to stop Cas from leaving.

“I-I don’t…do you want me to forget?”

“If it will be troublesome for our friendship, then yes.”

“Yeah, it’s troublesome for our fucking friendship, Cas. You said you love me.”

“And I do.”

“Is that…romantic love or-?”

“Yes.” He said it so confidently now, it made Dean catch his breath.

“And you want me to forget that?” he sounded so quiet, scared even when he asked.

“Dean, I’ve been ignoring it for years.”

Years. “You’ve loved me for years?”

“Am I making you uncomfortable? We should stop talking-”

Cas looked away, but Dean reached to take his face in his rough hands. Trying to hold him as gently as he could, wanting so much to grip at him to make sure he was actually real. Actually there.

Then with a quiet, desperate whisper, Dean says, “Me too.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. So Dean spoke again, louder this time. “Me too, Cas. I…me too. I feel-me too.”

Cas lets out a breath he didn’t have to take before Dean sees the tears drown in the blue again. Watching as Cas’s demeanor changed and his stiff gestures melted away under Dean’s touch. Slowly Cas reaches to finally pull Dean into a tight embrace, his chin resting on Dean’s shoulder while he quietly let out a small sigh of relief.

“I thought I ruined it. I didn’t think you would—I never imagined you would see me like that.”

The hug was familiar, nothing new, and yet everything felt new when Dean’s hands gripped at his coat. He couldn’t find the words, but he let himself fall against Cas, feeling both their grasps relax until finally, Dean felt a hand at the back of his neck. Soothing him with quiet touches, they would never have let themselves have before. Lingering over skin, hair, and eventually, they turned their heads.

Noses brushing as breaths mingled together.

The world was ending, but at least they had this. Finally, finally, they had each other again.

Dean leaned in only to hear Sam run in, “There you two are! What happened to the door? Wait, what are you-? Are you two serious?! Chuck just snapped everyone out of existence!”

“What? You found them?” Jack ran in just in time for Cas to push Dean away. Dean tried not to find offense to it when he saw Cas's relief when he laid his eyes on Jack. “Cas! You’re here! I thought-I had a feeling. For a second, I couldn’t feel you around, and I was scared that Chuck took you too!”

“I’m here,” Cas reassured him as Jack walked to hug him. “I’ll explain everything, but we need to go somewhere safe. Somewhere Chuck has no power.”

“The Empty.”

#i hate math and its hot #destiel #fic #i just thought it would be fun if they talked about the empty being awake #wormstachewrites #also dadstiel is first lol

[boykingdom]

Dean doesn’t have to drive far before he finds Cas. He’d had a hunch Cas might be waiting for him no matter the direction he went, but still he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees the slump of Cas’ shoulders among the trees.

He doesn’t have to walk far, either, once he’s pulled the Impala into the grass beside the road and let the metal door shut behind him with a creak. He’s in the forest after a few paces—it’s a pretty forest, all green and overgrown, the tan of Cas’ coat standing out purely for its dullness. Cas’ back is to him and he’s looking down at something, hands in his pockets, but the rigidity with which he holds himself gives away his awareness of Dean’s presence. Cas won’t turn toward him but will angle his head so Dean can see the sharp line of his cheekbone, like he’s any sort of thing that would need ears to gauge how close Dean is.

Dean has half a mind to hesitate, to stop and take a deep breath and collect his thoughts or something, but he’s so fucking tired of not being near Cas and of schooling how much he gives away to Cas in every conversation that he walks up so their shoulders are inches apart and he doesn’t think twice about it. He looks down to take in what Cas is looking at and finds a small pond with a few muddy-gray fish scooting their bellies across the silt. Dean thinks Cas might be gearing up for a speech about the fish and creation and humanity, something nice and cinematic to bookend their journey, but instead Cas says, “Hello, Dean.”

That works, too. At least Dean knows how to respond to that one. “Heya, Cas.”

They’re silent for a second.

“Sam?” says Cas. 

“Went off to the Roadhouse. Wanted to see Bobby and Ellen and Jo,” says Dean. “But you knew that already.”

“Mm. I did.”

They both watch the fish drift. One comes close enough to the surface to form gentle ripples in the water.

Then Dean is smiling, because he can see Cas out of the corner of his eye, see the way he shifts and fidgets and is so clearly also looking at Dean out of the corner of his own eye. It occurs to Dean that Cas is nervous—that after everything they’ve been through, after the end of the world, after Cas’ big sacrifice, this angel of the Lord is nervous to speak to his best friend of twelve years. Dean can’t help but take the opportunity to tease him.

“What, did you think we’d never talk about it?”

A pause. Cas half-grumbles, “I thought I’d have a few decades to prepare something to say.”

And then Dean is laughing and laughing and bent over double with it because this whole thing is so fucking absurd and he’s so happy to be standing here next to Cas, weird and awkward Cas who pulled him out of Hell and told Dean he was in love with him just months ago. Cas who he thought he had lost forever. Dean laughs so hard he cries and then he—he cries, and cries, and he’s not laughing anymore. It happens fast and hard. Cas finally turns to him, eyes wide and hands suspended in front of him like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Dean’s sniveling and holding his jacket sleeve under his nose so his face doesn’t get all snotty but he probably looks fucking gross anyway, the way the tears won’t stop coming. Cas says, “Dean?” all worried and concerned. Dean practically falls forward into him, wraps his arms around Cas’ waist to clutch at the back of his coat and shakes when Cas immediately holds him in return.

“I missed you so bad,” Dean sobs into Cas’ shoulder. “I missed you so bad. I thought I would never see you again. I missed you so bad.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Cas hugs him tighter, leaving no spaces between their bodies. His voice breaks a little when he says, “I missed you, too.”

They stand like that for a moment. The forest buzzes around them, twiddling with birds and squirrels and insects. Dean breathes Cas in, feels him warm and safe and real in his arms. It’s a small piece of Earth here in Heaven. Unlike any other time before, Dean lets himself lean into it, touch Cas without Death looming over their shoulders. It feels good.

Dean does calm down after a few minutes, and as much as he would love to freeze time and stay suspended in that moment, he knows he can have even more if he gives it one last push. He pulls away, Cas’ hands sliding off his coat, lingering. “Sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed despite himself.

“Don’t be,” says Cas, in a way a that shows he really means it. Dean clears his throat and looks at him. Cas looks back. The whole thing is so achingly familiar, so akin to how they were when they first met. Even when Cas was alien and unknowable and potentially a threat, Dean always had to stifle the breathless thrill of having Cas’ attention. He doesn’t stifle it now.

He hasn’t quite internalized all the things Cas said to him, but he can see Cas was telling the truth about one thing—he is clearly so happy to be standing at the edge of this pond with Dean. Nothing in his gaze is asking for something more.

And as much as Cas would argue differently, Dean isn’t as good as him. He was never content just wanting. He had long ago accepted that he could never have Cas, sure, had recognized that he would spend the rest of his life with a horrible ache in his chest, that he would white-knuckle the wheel of the Impala to keep himself from touching. But he couldn’t find peace with it. Love rotted in him like a body at the bottom of a well. He spent a long time thinking it would kill him and kill Cas too, that it was a weapon to be used against them both, that the heat of his gaze would actually burn Cas if he looked long enough. He still has to choke down those half-formed thoughts when he looks at Cas now and can see in his eyes that he loves Dean without reservation, that despite everything he doesn’t think of Dean’s love as a death sentence. That he wants him.

Dean’s mind was made up the second Bobby had mentioned Cas’ name on the porch. It took him too long to untangle that part of himself that couldn’t separate loving men from danger, but he did untangle it, in the end.

“I know I can do it,” Dean says, both to Cas and to himself, “but I think it might be hard.”

Cas’ brow flickers in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he answers, gesturing lamely at the two of them, at the space between them. He swallows, steels himself, thinks of all the words he spent the nights since Cas died murmuring into his pillow, deliriously drunk. “I don’t know— I don’t know how to be this to someone— to you. I’ve never— and you’re—”

He’s getting frustrated, is upset that after thinking so long and hard about this moment for so many years he somehow still doesn’t know how to explain to Cas how much he means to him, how much he wants him, how hard it is to beat down his self-hatred and accept that he might just deserve Cas, too. But Christ, he wants to try.

“Dean?” Cas says. Dean can see in his expression the flowering bud of hope. He is so beautiful.

“I love you too,” Dean says, because it’s the best explanation he can give. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his throat. Cas blinks; his mouth drops open. “God, Cas, you have to know that. Of course I love you too.”

“You mean...?” Cas can’t finish the question. He’s looking at Dean like a man finding faith, finding Heaven. Dean feels so overwhelmed and so happy for the two of them and surely he’s still red from crying before, but again he feels himself burning.

“I’ve been yours,” he chokes out. “You can have me. Please.”

Cas kisses Dean. It happens so fast that Dean feels it coming rather than sees it, feels Cas’ hands on his face, feels himself be tugged forward. Cas’ hands are shaking and Dean’s are too when he grips the front of Cas’ shirt and the back of his neck, eyes closed tight, learning the shape of his mouth. It’s hard and a little desperate and not at all artful, and Dean’s whole self feels a bit like an open wound but Cas is healing him, like he always has, like he has since the beginning.

Dean pulls away for air but doesn’t pull far, keeping his forehead pressed to Cas’ and his eyes shut. Cas’ thumb strokes his cheekbone. “Dean,” Cas says, and Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath. The way Cas says his name doesn’t scare him anymore.

Dean opens his eyes. He smiles. “Hi,” he says.

Cas smiles back.

**

They’re sitting in the Impala, Dean’s hand on Cas’ thigh, when Cas asks, “What do you want to do now?”

Dean pauses, thinks. The answer to what do you want has been Cas for so long, but he never let himself think far enough to decide what he would do if he ever got him. He’s safe, Cas is safe, Sam is safe. Realistically, he shouldn’t want for anything.

He looks out the Impala’s windshield, smooths the hand not holding Cas over the steering wheel. He knows that he loves this car with everything he is—that for a long time it was the only home he had. He also knows that he’s tired of the road. Desire has always come too easily to Dean.

“I think I’ll build us a house,” he answers, and immediately he knows it’s the right thing to do. They can pick a spot wherever Cas wants—Dean’s not picky. It’ll be something solid, something with walls that he built with trees he cut himself. Something that reflects the home he already built for Cas, the one that lives between his ribs.

Cas’ eyes light up. “I like that plan,” he says. “I want that, too.”

Years ago, Cas had sat in Dean’s passenger seat and asked him if he would rather have peace or freedom. Dean never got the chance to answer him.

Dean leans across the seat and kisses Cas again, open-mouthed, slow. He does it for him now and for the version of himself who mourned the distance between them. It’s answer enough.

#spn #supernatural #deancas #destiel #15x20 coda #i know the finale happened so long ago and also isn't real but i had to try my hand #i'll reblog this when the europeans wake up 🏃‍♀️ #my fanfiction

[slipper007]

The Monster in the Dark

Word Count: 1,311

Also on AO3 [Masterpost]

It was normal for kids to be afraid of the dark.

That was what all of Cas' parenting books had said at least. Dean had taken to reading them when Jack came back from his stint as God, wanting to be in a body his age. While it had certainly taken some getting used to (a four-year-old standing by the bed and staring, unspeaking and unmoving, waiting for him to wake up was, quite frankly, horrifying), everyone had gotten to a good place. They were comfortable with having a child around, and it brought out the best in everyone.

Sam had never wanted to be a father, but he slipped into the role of uncle easily, just as Eileen was an excellent aunt who spoiled Jack with a trip into town for ice cream every few weeks. As much as Dean had always feared becoming a father like John, as much as he wanted the distance of being an uncle like Sam rather than a parent, he did find himself easing more and more into being a dad.

And Cas...Cas seemed as if he was meant to be a father. Dean didn't know if there was something about being an angel that made him more able to raise a nephil, but he did it and he did it well. He knew how to balance Jack's moods, how to banish nightmares, and he was learning how to goof off and have fun, to see how the floor was lava and the appeal of a vinegar and baking soda volcano. He did it all, and even when some days were rougher, when his own issues wore him down and he climbed into bed exhausted, he could always manage a smile for Jack.

Dean had never seen Cas so content, and he had never seen someone parent so well.

It was Cas' shoes he had to fill a few months later, when Sam and Eileen were traveling abroad and something urgent in Heaven called Castiel away. He hadn't shared details with either of them, but he'd promised movie nights when he got back, to make brownies and read stories and make up for time away. Jack promised to be very brave and to be good for Dean until Cas got back.

As much as Castiel assured Dean he would be fine for the week or two he'd be gone, Dean hadn't been convinced. Maybe he'd been right to worry, because only a few days later, Jack woke him up to tell him about a monster in the dark, how much it scared him, how he wanted to be protected. He didn't say it, but Dean knew he wanted Cas, too.

Dean knew what monster he was talking about, remembered them from his own childhood after running through a mental list of vampires, ghouls, and ghosts.

Children believed in a monster that lived under their bed, one that would grab ankles and smile sinisterly through a cracked door. They would lurk in darkened corners and wait for eyes to close and then they would creep closer. Sam had feared them, too, while Dean had been more worried about the creatures his father hunted.

What Dean didn't understand was why. There was nothing in the dark that would hurt Jack, at least not here. The Bunker was safe, warded extensively. That knowledge meant nothing to Jack, so Dean looked for other ways to reassure him, to convince him he was safe.

John Winchester had given his children a 45. Most books suggested a nightlight to banish the monsters. As much as Dean's hunting instincts defended his father, he went out and bought the latter.

For a few nights, it worked well, but soon enough even light didn't banish the monster.

Dean leaned more into what he knew from hunting and tried a circle of salt around the bed, a few sigils throughout the room. While he knew nothing could possibly be in the Bunker with them, maybe this would help to convince Jack. After all, he knew a little about real monsters, whether from memories of his first three years of life or from walking in on a discussion about whether they should keep hunting with Jack so young now. While they were careful with what they told him, did the best they could to keep him from growing up in fear, Jack knew salt was protection just like sticking his head under his blankets was.

Again, it worked for three naptimes and two nights, but Dean still found himself spooked awake by Jack standing by the bed again in his glow in the dark pajamas.

This time, Dean just lifted the covers and let Jack climb in.

That was the sight Castiel came back to a few days later. Dean woke as Castiel slid into bed, Jack sandwiched between them.

“Morning, sunshine. Just get back?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, voice hushed so as not to wake Jack. With a little nod toward him, Cas asked, “How has he been? Have things gone alright while I was away?”

“Yeah, he’s been really good. Listening ears and everything.”

“That’s good,” Castiel sighed. “I was worried because I haven’t been gone for so long before, not since before he came back. And even though he’s more used to Eileen and Sam not being here all the time, having them and me gone at the same time isn’t something he’s dealt with before. And you know I love you and think you’re a great parent, but you’re just one person and he’s so used to having so many people around and with everything going on in Heaven I might need to go back again soon and—”

“Sweetheart, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry. Just been a lot going on.” As Dean was about to ask what had gone on in Heaven, Castiel’s expression shifted to one of confusion. “Why’s he in here?”

Dean looked down to Jack, peacefully sleeping. Part of him worried what Cas would think of him as he admitted, “He kept talking about a monster in the dark. I tried a light, like in your books, and a salt circle, but it didn’t help. This is all that’s worked.”

“I thought we had passed that,” Castiel said with a sigh, running a hand across his face. “He’s talked to me about that, too.”

“Oh.” Dean felt a semblance of relief knowing that this wasn’t a new problem. “Any ideas why?”

“I think he remembers the Empty,” Castiel confessed, looking tired and worried. “The same way he remembers things from hunting and little details from cases, his mother…”

They both fell silent for a beat.

“How have you comforted him? Other times he’s talked about this.”

“I tell him a story about a man who’s been caught by the monster. He’s tired and cold and scared, and he’s so far from home. But no matter how far he is, he knows someone will save him. There are people who love him, and they’ll save him no matter how scary the monster is. They’ll bring him home.” Castiel shifted, voice growing softer still. “He says it’s a good story, that he’ll be brave and bring me home if the monster comes for me.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t get much of a chance to.

“Cas?” Jack mumbled sleepily. He stirred for a moment before his eyes opened and crinkled in excitement. “Cas! You’re back! You’re back!”

The worry in Cas’ eyes disappeared and he took Jack into a tight hug. “Morning Jack. Do you want to help me make pancakes?”

“Yes!” Jack climbed out of bed with speed and agility that made both Cas and Dean laugh. “I’m gonna put chocolate chips in mine!”

Jack ran off towards the kitchen, and Castiel and Dean rose to follow him.

“Cas?” Dean said. “It’s good to have you home.”

///

Tag List: ask to be added or removed :)

@becky-srs @bizzlepotter @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @casthyelle @chaoticbisexualdean @chocolatecakecas @dean-has-great-taste @featherasscas @haloemoji  @holy-ramble @bee-in-a-trench-coat @poetcastiel @poohkeepsee @professorerudite @readeroftheimmortalbooks @wormstacheangel @thiscastielhasflown  @thisisapaige

#baby!jack #baby jack truthing #kid!jack #dad!dean #dadstiel #spn fic #supernatural #slipper007writes #userdee #userstarry #userpris #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #usershey #tuserari #rambleoncas #useralison #destiel #destiel fic #jack kline #someone please tell me if tags work lol

[gates-keeper]

Part 1: “Words of Affirmation” Destiel Quotes & Parallels

I’m sure someone’s done this before me and done it better, but I’m compiling a huge Destiel evidence docket for no reason. Anyone got any quotes to add?

Comments From Outside Characters

To Dean

Uriel: “He has this weakness. He likes you.” (4x10)

Balthazar: “You have me confused with the other angel. You know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you.” (6x17)

Hester: “The first time Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost.” (7x21)

Meg: “He was your boyfriend first.” (7x23)

Charlie: “What about Castiel? He seems helpful. And dreamy.” (8x20)

Marie: “Although we do explore the nature of Destiel in Act 2.” (10x5)

Sam: “Shouldn’t it be Deastiel?” He then goes on to tease Dean with “Sastiel” which Dean takes negatively. (10x5)

Dean: “This Cas is looking at me weird.” Sam: “So like the real Cas then.” (15x14) 

To Castiel

Hannah: “We gave you our trust. Don’t lose it over one man.” (9x22)

Metatron: “His true weakness is revealed. He’s in love…with humanity.” (9x22)

Metatron: “Oh, that’s right. To save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but, ultimately, it was about saving one human, right?” (9x23)

Ishim: “I’m going to cure you of your human weakness [i.e. Dean]” (12x10)

The Empty: “I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. I know who you love…There is nothing for you back there.” (13x4)

Demon: “I thought you were joined at the… (looks down) everything.” (14x01)

There are also several instances where other characters try to poke at insecurities regarding their relationship.

Naomi: “You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way.” (8x19)

Casifer: “There comes a time when every relationship has run its course.” (11x18)

Michael!Dean: “You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he ‘gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.’ Or whatever.” (14x10)

Comments From Dean

To Cas

“There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. And two, you are not going to die a virgin.” (5x03) 

“So what? I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?” (5x03)

“You know what? Blow me, Cas.” (5x18)

“Cas, not for nothing, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” (5x18)

“Look, I don’t need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I’ve failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don’t need it!” (8x07)

“We need you. I need you.” 

For more on this quote see the “We vs. I” section.

To Other Characters

Bobby: “I think maybe it’s time you made a call.” Dean: “Why does it always gotta be me that makes the call, huh? It’s not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude’s busy.” (Cas appears) Dean: “Get out of my ass.” Cas: “I was never in your… (head tilt)” (6x19)

“On my car…. He showed up naked… covered in bees.” (7x23)

While Cas suffered from some mental issues at the time, it seems somewhat significant that he sought Dean out under the circumstances, not Sam, etc.

“There’s things… people… feelings that I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.” (10x16)

“My shy but devastatingly handsome friend here” (12x12)

“He came into my room and he played me.” (12x19)

“Let’s see. Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is—Mom’s gone.” (13x01)

Dean’s inability to list Cas’s death singles him out as the most devastating of the losses.

“We’ve lost everything. And now you’re gonna bring him back.” (13x01)

While some people have heard this as “bring ‘em back”, the Netflix captions and transcripts I have been able to find say “him.”

“And Cas bought it. And you know what it got him? It got him dead! Now you may be able to forget about that, but I can't!” (13x03)

“I have a family.” (In response to John Winchester lamenting Dean doesn’t have a wife and kids) (14x13)

Comments From Cas

To Dean

“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt.” (4x16)

“I’m hunted. I rebelled. And I did it—all of it—for you.” (5x02)

“I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me.” (5x18)

“I do everything that you ask. I always come when you call.” (6x21)

“So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord.” (6x22)

Before taking on the role of God, Cas seemed very concerned with Dean’s forgiveness/acceptance/love. It is interesting that, as God, that was the first thing he asked for, turning from Sam (who had just stabbed him) to Dean to ask for love.

“Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me.” (10x22)

“I love you. I love all of you.” (Arguably to the group, but the first “I love you” can be seen as Dean-specific, especially since it cuts to Dean after being said.) (12x12)

“You mean too much to me. To everything.” (12x9) (To Mary, Sam, and Dean. However, the camera immediately cuts to Dean specifically, even though he is in the back of the group).

“I’m your Huckleberry.” (13x06)

Cas love confession (15x18)

To Other Characters

“Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” (6x03)

“I won’t hurt Dean.” (8x17)

This is said as Castiel is breaking away from Naomi’s mind control—mind control she fostered specifically by having Cas kill a thousand versions of Dean. This implies she knows that Cas’s strongest loyalty is to Dean, not Sam, or humans in general.

“The point is that they [Dean & Sam] were here at all and you got to know them, you -- When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.” (14x14)

“You know, Dean, he... he feels things more acutely than any human I've ever known.” (15x13)

Other Comments

Reaper: “How do I start looking for this... Castiel?” Bartholomew: “I got one word for you. Winchester.”

Rowena: “An Angel of the Lord, shattered at the altar of Winchester.”

Use of We vs. I

In the crypt scene in Season 8, Dean tells Cas, “We need you.” This is not enough to stop Cas’s actions. When the language switches to “I need you,” Cas drops the angel blade.

We can clearly see that Dean tries to put up barriers about how he really feels about Cas in his use of “We.” For example, after showing the audience many scenes of Dean, not Sam, frantically trying to call Cas, we get the following lines:

“So not only were you ditching us, but you were also ignoring us?”

“With everything that's going on, you can't just go dark like that. We didn't know what happened to you. We were worried. That's not okay.”

It’s clear that these “we’s” are really “I’s”

In the alternate future presented in 15x9, Sam asks Dean, “What’s happened to you Dean… ever since…?” to which Dean responds, “Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we’ve ever cared about? Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy and I had to bury him in a Malak box… ever since then?” While he acknowledges Sam’s losses as well, his switch to “I” in reference to Cas implies that Cas’s loss belongs especially to him.

(Mostly) Verbal Parallels to Other Couples

In 1x01 (start at 2:27), Dean pulls Sam away from a dead Jess in a direct parallel to how Sam pulls Dean away from Cas in 12x23

Following Jessica’s death, Sam keeps seeing glimpses of her as he and Dean travel around in the Impala. Dean does the same in Season 8 following his return from Purgatory without Cas.

David from “Bloodlines” (9x20) tells his love interest, “I was there. Where were you?” which is the same thing Dean says to Cas in “The Man Who Would Be King” (6x20)

When asking Dean whether he’s in love with Cassie, Dean gives a similar response to what he will say in 10x5 when asked about Destiel.

Destiel is paralleled with their counterparts from the Supernatural play who are “a couple in real life” (10x5)

Cain compares himself to Dean in Season 10. He describes the significant kills of his life (The Knights of Hell, his wife Collette, and his brother Abel) and tells Dean that he will follow his same pattern by killing the King of Hell Crowley, Castiel, then Sam. It is also mentioned that all Collette asked of Cain was “to stop,” which is the same language Cas uses with Dean in 10x22.

Dean explains how his parents fell in love to prove his identity to Mary in 12x1, “He was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed.” Later in this same season (12x19), Dean gives Cas a homemade mixtape of his favorite Zeppelin songs.

Ishim fell in love with a human named Lily Sunder who ultimately left him for someone else. When trying to recruit Castiel, he compares Dean to her.

Dean questions how much of their life has been controlled by God. Cas states, “You asked, ‘What about all of this is real?’ We are.” (15x02) Later, they find out that God has been using Eileen to spy on the Winchesters. She says, “After what happened, I don’t know what’s real anymore.” Sam kisses her, stating “I know that was real.” (15x09)

PART 2 “Physical Touch” Now Finished

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel is canon

[woulddieforgabriel]

Okay but concept: it's a week or so after the 15x19 and Sam and Dean are finally sick of this mini vacation they've been taking ever since they defeated God. Sam finds a case, and they pile into the impala for some good old-fashioned monster hunting.

But then Dean sees Cas walking down the sidewalk. He looks like a hot mess. He's covered head-to-toe in dirt and grime, to the point where his trench coat is barely tan anymore. His beard now puts his Purgatory beard to shame. Even the hair on his head seems to be getting longer — and definitely much messier.

Dean slams on the breaks. It's like 2012 all over again. He'd see Cas, he'd stop, and Cas would be gone. Though he does still seem to be there this time...

But then Sam points him out, and Dean realizes he's not crazy and that Cas really is here. They both hop out of the car — Dean doesn't even take the time to turn it off — and run back to see Cas.

Dean freezes. He has no idea what the fuck he's supposed to do in this situation. It's Cas! He's alive! He's a hot mess, but he's alive! And it's so good to see him again. It really is. But with Cas right in front of him, all he can think about is how they left things. He's gone out of his way not to think about what Cas said to him before he made that sacrifice. In his grief, he found it was just easier to forget. But now he has to face it and he has to try to make sense of it, and he doesn't even know where to begin.

Sam gives Cas a bear hug, bombarding him with questions one after another and not even giving Cas the chance to respond. Dean would tell him off if he thought he could.

And then Cas just ??? collapses??? in Sam's arms, and now neither of the Winchesters really know what to do (though they can both agree this takes priority over the case they were about to head off on).

Cas comes to that night, hours after Sam and Dean dragged him into the bunker. They'd laid him down in a spare bed, and though they'd taken turns watching him for the first hour or two, they'd basically decided staring at him wasn't going to wake him up any faster and decided to go about their lives.

They're in the war room when Castiel walks out, holding onto the wall for balance with every step. They jump to their feet to give him a hand — Sam pulls out a chair and Dean helps him over to it — and they get to talking.

Cas has no idea how he came back, but he did; he was dropped right in the middle of Rossville, Kansas, with nothing but the clothes on his back. He didn't have a phone; he didn't have any money; he had nothing.

And, worst of all, he was human. This entire time he was struggling to find his way home, he was dealing with his newfound humanity as well — mainly, the hunger and the thirst that he couldn't afford to satiate. Finding public drinking fountains became almost as important as finding the bunker over the last few days.

But now he's home. Cas came home. That's all Dean can think about — literally. It doesn't even occur to him to get him something to eat and drink until Sam gets up to do it. He's just so busy thinking about the fact that Cas came home.

And now that they're alone, Dean expects Cas to address the elephant in the room: their last conversation. "I love you," he'd said. What the fuck does that mean?

Except he just... doesn't?

They make small talk instead, and every second of it kills him. Sure, Cas has good reason to ask about what happened with Chuck and whether Billie truly was taken care of and where Jack is, but it doesn't make it any easier for Dean, who really only has one thing on his mind now.

He thinks maybe after Cas eats, he'll be more apt to talk about it.

He's wrong.

But that's okay. Sam's here; it would be awkward anyway. He'll carve out some alone time with Cas that evening, see if it comes up then.

It doesn't.

He's probably tired. Sure, he took an hour-long nap before he even got back to the bunker, but he's also newly-human and newly-alive, and walking for days on end probably didn't help.

Maybe in the morning? Sam is out for a jog when Dean wakes up, and Cas is nowhere to be seen. Dean makes a delicious bacon breakfast for when Cas gets back (and he slips Miracle a piece while no one's around to tell him off for it). Cas has great timing; he comes out right as Dean is finishing up the last few pieces. Maybe a bacon breakfast will put him in the mood to talk.

... Or not.

And this goes on for days. Dean does whatever he can to get Cas alone, trying to get him to initiate that conversation — sometimes half-initiating it himself — and Cas never takes the bait. And, finally, Dean can't take it anymore. He can't keep pretending everything's normal with this eating him up inside. So, out of the blue one afternoon while Cas is reading and Dean is playing tug-of-war with Miracle, he asks.

"What did you mean, you love me?"

And Cas looks up from his book, eyes squinted and head tilted just a little bit to the side in that cute little way he does it, and he says, "I meant just that."

Which, obviously, does not clear anything up. "So you love me."

"Yes."

"Love me how?"

And Cas just stares at him because what the fuck does that mean? And now they're both hopelessly confused and after a minute of terse silence, Cas finally says, "I just do?" and it's more of a question than an answer and it sure as hell doesn't help with Dean's days-long crisis.

And Dean's like, "But what do you mean?" which is quite literally the exact same question he asked the first time and definitely doesn't clean anything up, and the look on the former angel's face says that perfectly well. "You mean you love me as...?" A friend? A brother? A lover? God, why does the English language have so many different definitions of love?

Cas just tilts his head a little more. "I don't think I understand the question."

And Dean can't tell if he's feeling exasperated or if he's feeling desperate what but finally he's just like, "Cas, was that just a heartfelt goodbye or was that a love confession?" and it's crystal clear on Cas's face that he finally understand.

But he still doesn't answer it. "It doesn't matter. I thought I was never going to see you again. I was wrong. Can we focus on that instead?"

And the fact that he didn't answer it almost makes it sound like it was a love confession, but the answer he did give almost makes it sound like it was just a heartfelt goodbye, and now Dean feels like his head is going to explode and what the fuck, Cas, just answer him!

And he might sound a little more upset than he'd anticipated when he says, "No, Cas, we can't!" so he quickly adds a softer, "I just... I need to know," because he does and how does Cas not realize that?

So, after a long pause, Cas says, "It was more than a goodbye, but you don't owe me anything. I truly meant it when I told you that happiness isn't in the having."

This has been plaguing Dean's mind for days but he'd never really thought about what he'd do if it really was a romantic confession, and now he's just??? Not sure??? Where to go from here???

And then Cas has the audacity to just go back to reading his book like nothing happened. Dean is having a whole-ass crisis and Cas is just reading a fucking book. It's unbelievable. How can Cas just drop this on him and then go back to his life like nothing happened?

For some reason, that really sends Dean over the edge, because he walks over and takes the book out of his hands so Cas has to look at him. But what the fuck is he supposed to say? What message is he even trying to get across? What is he —

And before he knows it, he's leaning over and giving Cas a kiss. Cas seems taken aback by it at first — like, really taken aback — but then he kisses back, and it's great; it's something Dean had never fantasized about before and god, he's glad he hadn't because he never could have done it justice in his mind.

It's Cas.

What more does he need?

#destiel #destiel ficlet #ig? #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #casdean #15x19 #15x19 coda #15x18 #15x18 despair #it was supposed to be a fanfic prompt type deal that I was hoping i'd get around to eventually and then it just... #became a lil bit more than that...

[lengthofropes]

POVs series

Part 4: Dean

words: 2,2k; rating: teen and up

summary:

Dean’s POV, since Cas is gone, then got back from the Empty.

Intentionally written as scattered thoughts.

Slowly, from grief, to the ending that they both deserve.

————————————-

1. What shapes me? Lines of my bones, enveloped within my skin, so tensed and fragile. The tremble of my hands in the morning, as I try but can’t find you next to me. My old clothes, my new clothes. Corners of my house.  My car’s seat upholstery. Soft recoil of my revolver. Food on my plate. Blood in my arteries. My “yes”s and my “no”s and cracks in my voice, as I say so.   - I’d drive. - Far away. From here, but where to? I’d watch the sun goes up and down, up and down, throwing it’s rays into side mirror. Lightening the road or leaving it in darkness, disturbed only by the headlights. I’d listen to the sound that air makes, sliced in half by the windshield. I’d listen to the purring of the engine under the hood, gratefully fed with gasoline. Too bad, it’s not clamorous enough. I’d pay dearly. With money, with time, that’s left. With anything. For something so loud, that could muffle my inaudible screams into nowhere. - I’d drive. But where to? - I don’t know where to. -

keep reading under the cut  -  or  -   read on AO3

2. I can’t drive alone. I keep seeing your gaze on my right. I see it, when I look into the rear view mirror too. Like you’re still here, around, waiting to say something. Or just sitting silently, pervading the air with the appeasement of your presence. Looking at me.   How long will it take me to forget how your eyes looked like? How long will it take me to forget what you saw in me? How can I? Now, that I believe in everything you’ve said. - How warm your touch was. - How good does it feel to be “finally free”, remind me? I don’t like the price. -

3. I’d like some certainty, you know? To come to terms. But I keep thinking “If only..” I keep asking “What if..?”  So many of those. Like there are other paths, and it all could’ve work out differently. They throw me back days ago, then months ago, then years. All my life, since the day I’ve met you. I keep searching for the answer, for the exact point, the moment, when I could’ve say something, do something. And you’d still be here.

“If”s are draining me. They are the lump in my throat, big and barbed. Sometimes it grows so big, it blocks the air from getting into my lungs. And in times like these I wonder, maybe I should just stop breathing at all? Still easier, than to accept your absence. - What if. What if. What if. - And you’d still be here. Here. -

4. Prayers never got me any good. Except of those, that were for you. But you can’t hear me now. You can’t hear at all. I know, it’s no use, I know it’s not possible, I know… I know. But I keep doing this, I keep begging. Not for a solace, not because of compassion. For fairness. Because. You took yourself away from me. It’s not fair, it’s so not fair. How could you do this to me? It’s not fair, can you hear me? It’s not fair! It’s not… - Come back to me. - Bring him back to me. - I don’t know if it is a prayer, I just repeat it over and over. Maybe I’m hoping these words will lose their meaning, if I’ll bounce them against every wall? Every wall of every empty room. I wander around them at night. You stood here, you smiled there, we had an argument, sitting in these chairs. And here, here you touched my shoulder. - Come back to me. Please, come back to me. -

5. How come, it’s been months already? I counted the seconds; they aimlessly wandered around, and then, having nothing else to do, gathered into minutes. It took more courage for minutes to gather in hours, but they did anyway. Hours slowly built up the days, and every seven days made it into a week. - I know, how time works. I’m just not sure, it works for me. - It’s not a straight line, I think. It’s more like a quagmire, and I’m drowning. I looked at myself in the mirror again this morning, as I do every day. I look closely, I check, I perceive. Hey, you’d be proud of me, you know? Little by little, I merge my usual “I” with your vision of me. Because this is the best way to remember you - to live by your last words. - I’d like to tell you, how YOU changed me. [ X ] -

6. Light is blinding me. Heart grew so big, it filled all of my chest, not sure, if there’s a place left to breathe in. Please, let it be real. Please. Please… Not another happy dream, that turns into nightmare, when I’m waking up. Please. - I see you. - Same room, same spot. You. Alive. Your hands are cold. You’re so weak, you can’t stand by yourself, you can’t even speak. But before you passed out, you looked at me. You looked at me, and I saw my own eyes reflect in yours. And that was enough to believe this is real. - I don’t remember… I… - Someone’s shaking my shoulder and saying my name over and over again. I’m sitting on the floor, holding you in my arms. My fingers hurt. I must’ve clutched them into your trench coat too tight. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting like this. But yes… yes… Sam’s hand is on my shoulder and he’s right, his voice is very quiet, but he’s right. We should get you out of here. We should put you in bed. - I nod. I’m not sure I can speak. -

7. It’s so quiet. - You lay. You rest. You sleep. I’ll watch over you. It’s my turn now. The room is still. Only movement is your chest’s slow ups and downs, as you breathe. It’s just air, nothing more, right? How can the sound of air, filling the lungs, be the most soothing sound in the world? But it is. - It’s our air. We share it. - And I’m crying. I’m crying and I’m crying and I can’t stop. -

8. Sam came back from the store, I stand in the kitchen, taking out groceries and stuff out of the shopping bags. Among everything, I see he bought a super glue, I have no idea, what he needs this for. This is so stupid, this is so fucking stupid, it’s pathetic… but I can’t keep my eyes of it. “Use super glue to strongly bind 2 surfaces together”. I want to come into your room, I want to sit beside you, while you’re still sleeping. I want to smear that goddamn glue all over you, from head to toe, and put myself on top of you, as like I’m the other surface. “Assemble parts and hold together with pressure for 15 seconds or until set”, the directions say.   Or, there’s gotta be sewing kit here somewhere? I want to thread a needle and sew you to me. With such large and strong stitches, I darned Sam’s pants like that when I was a kid, I know these stitches are reliable, believe me. Or use a duck tape. Or shove us both into the bottle and threw it away into the ocean. - It’s been two days and nine hours, since you’re back. Someday, I’ll be able to leave your room, leave you out of my sight, and don’t feel growing panic in my chest. - Someday, I’ll believe you’re back for good. For good. For ever. Not today. -

9. Your bare legs are sticking out of your robe. You are strong enough to walk around the bunker, and, of course, the first thing you did is get to the kitchen. Oh, you woke up hungry and just wanted to make yourself a sandwich, I see… You are not cold, but you are sitting on a chair, constantly adjusting this stupid robe, wrapping yourself in it tighter. You weirdo. You know who you remind me of? A cold little sparrow on a twig, who keeps on ruffling the feathers to keep warm. Those legs are sticking out… - I place a huge bowl of hot chicken soup in front of you. “Eat!” I say. “Or I’m gonna start feeding you with a spoon, I swear!” You mutter something dissatisfied about peanut butter and jelly under your nose, but I won’t even listen. "Eat!” I say. Seriously, you didn’t want to wake me up?? So nice of you! Next time consider my near heart attack, maybe? You look sorry and giving me those puppy eyes, and I swear I want to smile so bad. Not just smile, really. To laugh with my full chest, easy and warm. - You breathe. You sleep. Now you eat. Should I ask questions? You’re here. You’re okay. You’re getting better. - You’re getting better. -

10. Your hair smell of my shampoo. Your hair. Smell of my shampoo. Your clothes are my old ones, but they fit you so good. Soon, when you’re well enough, we’re gonna drive some place nice and buy you your own. It’s selfish, probably, but I want it to happen as late, as possible; not your recovery, of course, your new clothes, I mean. - You look mine in my clothes. - Your hair smell of my shampoo. I’ve realised it just now, when you fell asleep on my shoulder. I forgive you, we’ve seen this movie two times already, it’s okay. And I can pretend I’m still watching it, while shamelessly wander my eyes over you, curled in a ball, covered with soft plaid. - I dare to kiss the top of your head, I dare to cover your knuckles with my palm, carefully, not to wake you up. - You are so warm. -

11. Do I deserve you? - Do I? Your presence in my life. You. All of you. So pure, so perfect. So selfless. I’d say you are full of light, but it’s not quite so. Because you are the light. God, I’m so scared. It starts in my fingertips, they ache, like being pinned with needles. Needles get into my blood flow and make my whole body shiver. - It took me way too long to understand, but I see now… it’s not about you, it’s about me. I know, I know! I remember everything you’ve said. I remember how I tried to believe it, to understand, to accept, to let it all inside me and keep it there. Your simple truth, that I actually mean something. Mean so much. To you. Fucking everyday morning exercises. Look and repeat, look and repeat to self all over again, “you are loved, you are loved, you are loved…” until not scared of the meaning. But… is this enough? What you feel about me? What I feel about you? To deserve you? Do I deserve you, do I? Do I? I… - But you’re kissing me back. - And you shiver too. Are those my needles got into your veins or are those yours? Jesus, do you have the same idiotic thoughts in your head?? God, we are both so clumsy, so stupid, so fucking stupid! We were so dumb, we are both so dumb! We are… We… - WE. - And I’m kissing you. I’m kissing you. I deserve it. I deserve you. I do. -

12. To feel the pulse on your neck with my lips. To smile, when your stubble tickles my ribs. To hear your shuddered inhales right next to my temple. To hold you, closer than ever, and not be afraid to. - It’s something about the heat of your skin, that makes me feel belonged. Safe. -

13. - You told me, you want to grow old with me. -

14. It’s quite hot, but windy today. You rolled the window down, and fresh air immediately filled up the car. We’re driving back home from the grocery store. You’re texting to someone and smiling. Tell them “Hi” from me. We’re listening to the new mixtape you’ve made. It’s awful, by the way. 90’s? Seriously?? Oh, don’t hurt yourself rolling your eyes back. Ok…Okay! I’m shutting up! You’re taking two milkshakes out of the bag, one for you, one for me. We argue on who’s gonna cook today. We drive past the small tidy houses with green yards and gardens, talking over each one of those. Someday, soon, yeah, most likely. That one with blue shutters? Yeah, I like it too. - In between of shifting the gears, I hold your hand. I love you. - Days are like this. -

15. Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. White male, early forties’. I don’t try to recognize myself in a mirror anymore. I don’t ask questions. - I’m just here. - Yeah, there’s grey in my hair, quite a bit, but still. These are my arms, my shoulders, hands. I used to know my hands as lethal, strong and fast, and I’ve always thought, that’s enough for male hands. I mean… they are, yes. But now I’d add, they are full of care, also. Even gentle. They are good for so many things, I didn’t even realize they are so good. [ X ] - This is my face. Here are my freckles and there are my wrinkles. - This is my skin; I live in it.

- It finally fits me. -

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#sorry guys! original post got messed with the links and I can't fix them....so just decided to make another oner of archive purposes(( #don't mind me)) #destiel fanfic #spncreatorsdaily #destiel fanfiction #destiel fix it #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #destiel poetry #anz writes stuff and things #fic tag

[goldenraeofsun]

4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #soulmates au #businessman Castiel #mechanic Dean #profoundnet #rae writes fic #i post something new every Sunday #this one kind of got away from me #but hopefully in a good way #deancas #deancas fanfic

[sarija]

@expectingtofly @starrynightdeancas

Here's my first ever written fanfic as a gift for @expectingtofly who never received her original gift from starrynightdeancas gift exchange. Enjoy 🙂

Words: 3657

Notes at the end of this post!

Home

“So I guess the question is,” Bobby asks, “What're ya gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean looks at baby, considering. He smiles back at Bobby and answers, “Well, I gotta go for a drive.”

 

 

After about ten miles, Dean pulls over. There's a lookout just a few steps from the road, and he follows the trail to the end, feeling overwhelmed by the info Bobby has given him. Cas is here. He helped Jack rebuilding Heaven. He remembers the last time he'd seen Cas. He would have given everything to see him again, to get him back, but all the efforts he and Sam had tried on Earth were useless. Now, there's a good chance he might see Cas again and he has no idea what to say to him.

At this moment, he feels the presence of someone beside him. Anxiously he turns around. For a moment, he hopes to see Cas, but instead, it's Jack and a warm feeling of relief washes over him. He doesn't know if he's ready just yet.

“Jack!” He exclaims, pulling Jack into a tight hug. “It's so good to see you, kid!”

Jack hugs him back, clapping him on the back before freeing himself. “Hey, Dean. It's good to see you too. I'm sorry I couldn't intervene...but I'm glad you are here.” Dean just shakes his head.

“You know, kid, Sam and I had an agreement of going down smashing, and this I did. I … I have no resentments over this.”

Jack offers him a short nod before saying, “Dean, I think there's someone who wants to see you. Are you ready?”

Dean then notices a figure standing way back, beside one of the bushes. He is ready. He has to be. He's been waiting so long to see him again, he can't even believe that he doubted he was ready in the first place. Dean swallows back a big lump in his throat. He walks a few steps. There he is. Just beside a big flowerbed, bees humming around busily, Dean sees him standing in the glow of the setting sun. He lets his eyes wander from the well-known boots upwards, over the hem of this trenchcoat he missed so damn much. The coat is glistening in the sunlight, it looks like it's giving off a light of itself. Over the blue tie, upwards, over the 5-o'clock beard, then those soft lips, further to these warm and blue eyes, deep like the ocean, light as a cloudless sky. And Cas is looking back at him, wondering, tilting his head just a little, the way he always did, back then when they were on Earth. Dean doesn't feel the single tear running down his cheek, he doesn't see Jack looking happily at him, he can only see Cas, standing there in the sun, looking like the most beautiful being he's ever seen in his whole life. Cas, his friend, his family, his angel and most importantly – the love of his life.

He steps forward slowly, afraid that this is just a dream, one of those damned dreams he's had over the weeks after Cas had been gone, had thrown himself into the Empty. In his dreams, Cas was there, waiting for him, but all of a sudden, he'd be gone, swallowed up by a big nothingness, or bursting out in flames and screaming in pain, or saying 'I love you, Dean' but retreating while Dean wanted to get to him, to hug him, to hold him, until his angel was gone and away.

But Cas is still there, smiling now, looking at Dean with his amazingly blue eyes. He lifts his hands and whispers “Dean” and Dean can't keep it any longer. He takes the last steps in a few fast strides and falls into Cas' arms, pulling him into a tight hug and crying silent tears onto his shoulder. Cas starts stroking his hair, softly, hushing and repeating all over “It's okay, Dean” until they both break apart. Dean doesn't want to let go of Cas, he holds his arms, looks at him over and over, but he can't find the words to describe how much this means to him. So he just stands there, breathing heavily, watching him, until he feels Cas' hand upon his cheeks, wiping away the tears on Dean's face. And all of a sudden, Dean knows there's no need to hold anything back anymore, there's no need to hide anything, because there's nothing here to threaten them. Nothing is going to take Cas away ever again.

Dean swallows, clears his throat.

“Cas... I …You ... How?” is all he manages.

Cas shakes his head. “I'll tell you later. We've got all the time in the world now.” He looks at Jack, who is still standing a little way behind them, smiling. “Now, who wants to have some dinner?”

--

They take the Impala to drive to Cas' place. While Dean is driving, he's absurdly aware of Cas sitting beside him in the passenger's  seat. He even feels the intensity of Cas' eyes upon him, until he finally blurts out, “Hey buddy, it's good to see you too but – could you please stop staring at me? I'm not a freak show, y'know?” At that, Jack snorts loudly in the back, clapping Dean on his shoulder. He doesn't say anything else, but Dean knows that he's enjoying this moment as much as he is. He sends a small smile to Jack and Cas, but Cas has turned his face away from him, looking out of the window instead, chin in his hand. For a moment, Dean worries if his words had hurt the angel. This would be the last thing he'd want to do, especially on the first day of meeting him again. He wonders if he should say something, anything, to make sure everything's fine. But what should he say? Tell him he didn't mean it? He never was a man of apologies, and Cas knows that. He just wanted him to look away, cause his staring was so freaking distracting. He wants to return his gaze, he wants to never stop looking into those amazing eyes, eyes that had seen so much, eyes that had looked so worried at times, Dean almost couldn't even bare it. He wants Cas to be happy, to smile, to forget the bad stuff he'd lived through. And now he'd said something that hurt him. Why was it so hard to just take it back? He never knew, cause right at this moment Jack spoke up.

“It's the light blue house over there, Dean. Just drive up to the front, there's a parking spot for you beside Cas' car.”

Dean drives as being told, parking beside a yellow-brown-ish '78 Lincoln Continental. He recognizes it instantly, it's the same car Cas had been using whenever he wanted to get something done on his own, and Cas had always seemed pretty fond of it. It brings back a lot of memories and Dean starts smiling involuntary.

They get out of Dean's car and step up the front porch. Cas takes the lead, opening the white door for them, welcoming both into his home. Dean risks a quick glance at him before entering. Cas doesn't seem to be hurt anymore, he looks pleased and happy. And Dean thinks he understands why.

Dean enters the hallway, looking around and taking in as many details as he can. There is a kitchen to his right, with wooden fronts and very clean. Right ahead there's an arc, decorated with roses in different colours – red, white, yellow, lilac and pale blue. They are rooted in two pink flower pots, one on either side of the arc. To his left are two wooden doors. He guesses that one would probably lead to the bathroom, the other one he's got no idea. They walk through the arc, entering a really big living room, bright and clear. The windows here let the sun warm up the room just enough to feel right, and the light-colored furniture reflects rays of sunshine without blinding them. 'It's perfect', Dean thinks to himself, wondering where Cas got those pictures of them and Sam in the bunker. One of the photos shows them with their hands on one another's shoulders, smiling into the camera. Dean can see his own forced smile, dark circles under wary looking eyes. He takes the photograph of it's shelf, looking at him, Cas and Sam. Sammy. He's looking back at him out of the picture, smiling and waving and looking contend and happy.

“Dean.”

He forces himself to put the photo back on the shelf and turns around to see Cas standing in the doorway.

“You know, he's not a freak show,” Cas mimics, but Dean can see he's worried.

“Thanks, Cas. I know. It's just … I hope he's alright, I hope he's living a good life down there, but -”

“You miss him.” Cas finishes. It's not a question, it's a statement.

“Yeah, man,” is all he can answer. He turns around to wipe at something in his eyes, then turns again and asks, “When will we be eating?”

“In a few minutes. We're waiting for … someone to arrive here, it won't be much longer now.”

Just as Cas finishes his sentence, they hear a soft knock on the door and someone entering the house.

“Who is this?” Dean asks, but Cas is already on his way to the kitchen and Dean just follows.

 

–

 

Dean still can't believe it. He just finished his second helping of T-Bone-Steak, mashed potatoes and fried rice, everything as delicious as he'd hoped for (he'd left out the vegetables). His stomach is full and he leans back really satisfied. This is amazing. He hadn't given a thought to the fact that now that he was in Heaven, he might meet his mom and dad again. Seeing all of them on this table in Cas' dining room – Mary and John, Cas, Jack and Bobby – laughing, eating, smiling, talking about things they did 'down there' and things to do 'up here', it was unbelievable. Dean watches all of them closely. They look so full of joy he can't help grinning like an idiot. His mom is laughing hard from a joke of John and Dean enjoys to see her relaxed and free of worries. His dad claps her on the back, then starts to stroke her gently. He too looks unstressed, there's no trace of the old, haunted John in his face anymore. Even Bobby, though still being his grumpy self, seems pleased.

“Alright, Dean, I think it's time for a little storytime.” Cas watches him intently as he explains, “I think you wanted to know how I could escape The Empty and start my new life here.”

 

--

 

All eyes are upon Cas now. Mary puts the plates away, coming back with two six-packs of beer. She hands everyone a beer and Cas starts talking.

“As most of you know, I went with The Empty willingly, keeping my side of the deal we had made way back. Several months ago, there was a problem at hand. The Empty wanted to keep Jack. I told her to take me instead of him and she agreed to that but wanted to be sure to crush me. So she told me that she wouldn't just swap - she'd come and get me as soon as I would be truly happy. And that she did. When we talked, Dean, I had made a choice”. At this, Cas sends him the slightest smile, which makes Dean want to forgive him in an instant. “Well, as you know, this choice led to me being taken by that bitch. For a while, I lay there in nothingness, black nothing all around me, and I hoped to fall asleep, which I knew was sure to happen to everyone The Empty had swallowed. But not me. She wouldn't let me sleep because I had been an inconvenience to her. She wouldn't visit me either. I lay there until I couldn't lie anymore, I sat there for hours and hours, and finally, I stood up. There was no way to give up this easy, The Empty couldn't be invincible, right?” They all nod, fascinated by his story. Jack even has his eyes closed. Another big gulp of beer, then Cas goes on. “So I wandered around, screaming and trying to punch the Nothingness. I called her a lot of stuff just to get her attention, but it was useless. In the end, I stumbled and fell on my knees and was none-the-wiser. But that was the moment I realized it. There was nothing to be done for me alone. But there was someone who had already conquered The Empty, who had woken me up last time, who would maybe be able to do something about my situation. And even though I didn't want to involve him, I saw no other choice. So I prayed. And I was answered.”

“But I prayed too, why did I never get an answer?” Dean sputters out. Instantly, he feels the heat of shame crawling up his neck, but he still locks eyes with Jack, who has finally opened them.

“I heard you, Dean. And I am very sorry. I knew this would disappoint you, but there was no way for me to interfere down there anymore. I couldn't answer, because I couldn't bear to tell you. I am sorry.” Dean swallows hard, then Jack continues, “Then I heard Castiel. And I realized that I wasn't about to interfere down there – but The Empty was not down there, and there were several changes to be made, changes that were overdue.

I gathered up all the strength I could master. I summoned those around me who were willing to help. Gabriel was the first to respond. It might not surprise you that he had taken advantage of everyone assuming him dead, submerging into the benefits of a random gambler's life outside the radar. Yet when I called out to ask the help of every angel available, he immediately came to my side to be of assistance.

Michael was second to answer my call. He asked a lot of questions, wondering if he could trust me. He was hardest to convince – but wanted The Empty gone as much as I did. So he stayed and helped.

Most of the other living angels came to stand with us, but we still weren't enough. So I started to wake up the deceased. This was rather dangerous, as I didn't want The Empty to know something was up too soon. But Cas here did a great job – when I had awoken an angel, he'd find him and explain the matter, trying to be as quiet as possible.  Once we had gathered quite a number of angels, they took their positions, waiting for my command. First step was to lure The Empty out of her hiding place. Hannah, Anna, Gadreel and Joshua did a great job with that! They annoyed her one after the other, to the point she wanted to throw them all out. Next step was to surround and distract her. So everyone did their best to get her attention, circling her in further. Then the tricky part started. While the inside angels surrounded her, kept her encircled and disturbed, enraging her further to keep her at that spot, we on the outside started to open up a crack, getting others out of there. Gabriel took an essential part here, building up an illusion to cover our crack. As soon as we had Jane and Raphael, I knew it was time to finish it, because the inside angels were taking hit after hit.

With the help of Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Jane, I managed to take hold of The Empty. Like Chuck did with Amara, we cast her out, chaining her up in the same lonely dimension Amara had once been held in. Michael sacrificed his powers to bear the new Mark that still was needed to have her caged.”

Jack pauses for a moment, takes a sip from his beer and watches the others. Mary and John are holding hands on the table, switching short glances now and then. Bobby looks like he's fallen asleep already, beer still clutched in his hand. Castiel seems to be entranced by Jack's story, elbows on the table, chin resting on his folded hands. A small smile playes on his lips and Dean notices how beautiful Cas' face looks when being relaxed. He doesn't know if he's even allowed to think this way, but he can't help it. He tries to focus on the story again.

“So, you cast her out. I guess the angels on the inside got out – seeing as Cas is here. But what about the other creatures this thing had held for an eternity?”

“Yes, that.” Jack answered, nodding. “I assumed it would be no good to send them all with The Empty. Instead, Jane and me enlarged the Purgatory, sent every monstrous creature down there and asked Rowena to magnify the intensity of their 'door'. In return she'd get the demon souls sent to Hell, and she willingly agreed to that.”

“Great.” Dean states, “more demons for her, no big deal.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers, obviously annoyed by this interruption.

“I don't like the idea of giving her more power, alright? It's no good. Rowena will use this somehow to do something bad, you know her, Cas!”

“Yes, Dean, I do know her. That's why Jack is keeping an eye on things. I thought you'd be happy to know that we all are safe now. I thought you'd be happy to see … me.”

All eyes are on Dean now, which makes him shift in his seat, feeling pretty uncomfortable.

“Man, you know I'm happy about … this all. I'm just wondering what this means for those left on Earth.”

“You mean Sam.”

Dean nods, not sure if he's able to answer right now.

Jack jumps in. “Don't worry, Dean. He's safe. I am sure of it – I can see it. Please believe me that no harm will come upon him as long as I'm here.”

This really does reassure him and he takes a big swig of his beer. He nods, satisfied for now. Then another thought comes to him.

“What about the angels you saved from The Empty? What exactly happened to them?”

“Oh, that's easy. Every deceased angel got a second chance. I made sure their loyalties were with me, then I sent them to work. There's a lot to do up here, and most angels are glad to be able to help. Michael is an exception though. As I said, he's had to sacrifice his powers to bear the new Mark, so he's powerless now. He's in hiding ...” Jake grins, “but I think … he'll bee alright.

With The Empty being gone, there were new rules to administer. Every monstrous creature – minus the demons - that dies from now on will find himself in purgatory. Demons that die will find themselves in Hell, but powerless. Rowena told me she's got some 'lovely tasks' for them. And every angel that meets his end will come back up here, being powerless but having a place to call home.”

Home. Dean looks around, taking in this wonderful place that Cas can now call his home. He loves this idea, and he feels quiet content with knowing all this.

After this, they switch the topic to easier stuff. Their conversation is light now, mostly about stuff to do in Mary's and John's house, like fixing a little hole in their roof, or repainting their furniture. John even asks if Dean would help him restore a '64 Ford Falcon and Dean eagerly agrees to be there tomorrow. But after a while of talking about the ups and downs of this special car, Mary stifles a wide yawn and John laughs. “It's time I guess! Thank you for this wonderful dinner and a great evening guys. Guess we'll see each other next week?”

“Same time, same place,” Cas answers grinning. “See you tomorrow, Dean,” John says and pulls him into a tight hug. Mary ruffles through his hair before hugging him, then she too says good-bye. Jack wakes up Bobby, half-pulling him out of his chair and tells him that it's time to get home. Bobby grunts, gives Dean a nod, and walks out the front door without another word, probably too tired to speak. Last to say goodnight is Jack, and he pulls both Dean and Cas into a big hug. They clap his back, and Dean thinks he can hear Cas whisper 'I'm proud of you' into Jack's ear. They all say good-night, then Jack is gone too. Closing the door behind Jack, Cas turns around to Dean, watches him closely, a slight pink shade on his cheeks.

“There's a guest room down the hall if you want to...” he leaves his sentence unfinished, but Dean understands.

He looks Cas in the eyes, feeling his heart suddenly hammering against his chest. There were words he wanted to say, but he doesn't remember. He's surprised – all those years down there, he had to hold everything back, and he has no fucking idea how he did that. Cas' eyes are still watching him, asking silent questions. Throwing cautions in the wind, Dean finally closes the distance and pulls Cas into a gentle kiss, hands on his cheeks. After a moment of surprise, Cas kisses him back, his lips soft and warm, and lays his hands around Deans waist. Their kiss seems to take an eternity, Dean has no feeling of time anymore, he just feels Cas' lips on his, and he knows that this is his happy place. His peace. His... he allows himself to think the word – his home.

Notes:

This fic is a gift for @expectingtofly on tumblr as part of the starrynightdeancas gift exchange. It's my first-ever written fanfic and I'd love to know what you think about it! I had a lot of fun writing this, creating my own kind of fix-it fiction. Also, I tried to stay canonical – with one exception, because I will never accept that the trickster was truly finished off!

Please note that I’m not a native speaker and there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry! But I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Have fun reading and leave a comment if you like <3

Not yet posted on AO3, still waiting for my invitation. I’ll have you updated as soon as I can post it there!

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #first fanfic #destiel #destiel is canon #canonverse #Also non-canonverse cause I don't believe in your reality #Fluff #Sappy #POV Dean Winchester #Gabriel's alive in my reality

[wormstacheangel]

Second part to the mixtape headcanon. Dean’s reaction to Cas being at his door in the middle of the night with the mixtape in hand.  

Dedicated to Liv ( @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie ) sorry it took me a while but here it is. Might not be what you expected but hopefully you enjoy it either way.

Cas stopped short in front of Dean’s door. His heart raced as he held the Walkman to his chest, clinging to the words he just heard, but he knew those words were years old. So much has changed in general, but between them, it felt like a still lake.

Since coming back, Dean has acted as if those dying words weren’t even spoken. Sometimes Cas wondered if he imagined the whole thing, but he knew the truth; Dean didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for them.

It was something Cas has accepted the last few weeks of being in the bunker, being home, but now, with Dean’s secret message, he felt the courage in him bubble up his throat.

Cas quickly knocked three loud, quick bangs with his fist before waiting for a response. He heard a groggy, “What?”

“Dean? May I—Can we talk?”

Cas didn’t hear an answer right away, and for a second, he thought maybe Dean fell back asleep; he knew it was the early morning hours but wasn’t quite sure of the exact time. Still, time never really meant anything to him before, but now, as a human, time has become precious, and he didn’t want to keep wasting it.

He took a deep, shaky breath, raising his fist to knock again, but the door then clicked open. Revealing a disheveled and disoriented Dean.

He leaned against the door frame wearing lemon patterned boxer briefs and a hand up his t-shirt to scratch at his chest, as he yawned before he blinked at Cas a few times, “Dude, it’s 3 am. What can’t wait ‘til morning?”

Cas swallowed his nerves down before looking down at the Walkman to take out the tape. He brought it up to Dean’s face, and with an earnest voice, he said, “You said to come ASAP. So I’m here.”

Dean only looked at the cassette tape; a small gasp of a breath raised his chest, but then his face scrunched up in the familiar fixed glare, so Cas continued knowing Dean won’t talk. Not yet anyway.

He put the cassette back into the Walkman as he talked, rewinding it to keep his nervous hands busy. “I believe I understood what you—what the songs mean, but I am still so new at all this. If I am wrong, I don’t want it hurting us.” Cas took a sneaky look back up at Dean to find him watching the Walkman with the same intensity Cas was.

It only took a few seconds, and then Dean was shuffling in the doorway as the first song, Ramble On, started to play through the headphones. With no other words, Dean opened his bedroom door open just a little more, an invitation to come in, before he walked back over to sit at the edge of his bed.

When Cas walked in, he closed the door behind him but stood awkwardly by it. He broke the silence first as he looked anywhere but at Dean.

“You know what, maybe this can wait until morning.”

“You already woke me up.” Cas looked up to meet Dean’s stare, it wasn’t cold, but it still sent a shiver down Cas’s spine. “So talk.”

Cas opened his mouth, not knowing what words he was even forming, but Dean stood with a hand up to stop him before any words were spoken.

“Actually, first, why are you bringing this up again? I gave you that thing years ago.”

Cas put the Walkman down on Dean’s desk, the music softer but still background music, before looking at Dean with guilty soft eyes, not knowing how to explain himself. “Yes. I just heard—I appreciate the gift, Dean. Thank you but-um.”

Dean seemed taken back by the words, and, by his hardening demeanor, Cas knew they were the wrong ones. Dean was building walls up again.

“You know what, Cas,” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face as he glared past Cas with an uneasy smile settled on his face. “I can’t do this right now. How about we leave the rejections for some other time? Yeah?”

Cas opened his mouth, confused, but Dean nodded.

“Good. Night, Cas.”

Oh. He was already being rejected. It made sense that Dean’s feelings changed after all this time. He must have been waiting for Cas to mention the message, but it’s too late now. He lost Dean’s love.

Cas reached for the Walkman, but now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen to those songs, understanding why Dean skips them now. So he fists up his hands, leaving the Walkman where it laid, before giving Dean a stiff nod in return.

“Understood. Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything in return, his jaw clenching as he looked at anywhere but Cas. “And take your damn gift with you.”

Cas’s chest tightened at the words. He felt familiar pain spread through his body, one he wished had a physical reason than an emotional, psychological one because a fist to his chest would hurt less.

“I don’t want it anymore.” Cas spit out as he opened the bedroom door and walked out into the hallway. “Throw it away for all I care.”

He slams the door closed behind him and stalks to his room, slamming that door behind him as well.

Then as soon as he is in the safety of his own space, he can feel the pain making itself known, like a hot blade slowly cutting into him or something heavy sitting on his chest. Either way, he wanted it to stop. Wishing he never heard that message or that he heard it at the right time.

Cas laid wide awake in bed, curled up around a pillow he was hugging to his chest. He stared at the wall, wishing he had a better imagination to keep him entertained, but all he could see was Dean’s glare. The glare those green eyes dug into him really digging roots and pulling him apart from the inside out with an invisible pull.

He couldn’t go out there and face him now. Maybe, Cas should have just ignored the long-ago message. It was apparent Dean had lost those feelings for Cas; he would have brought up Cas’s dying words weeks ago if Dean felt remotely the same. Now Cas was left with an awkward situation he didn’t want to be a part of.

He needed to leave.

Cas knew that. This is how it always went. Cas needed to go.

Cas stood up to walk over to his desk to grab his wallet and keys before grabbing his coat, ready to sneak off before the sunrise. He’ll be gone before Dean can kick him out again.

He didn’t even get a chance to open his bedroom door before Dean was striding in with a determined glare, “Okay, fuck this, I think we really need to-” Dean stopped to look Cas up and down as his shoulders dropped. “You’re leaving.”

“I think—I think it’ll be best.”

Dean nodded, his bottom lip being sucked into his mouth as he stared back at Cas. “Sure. Just do what you do best. Runaway.” Dean threw whatever he held in his hand across the room and broke it with a loud bang. Cas flinched as he saw what it was, the Walkman. “Fuck if I care!”

Dean was already turning to walk away, but Cas grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. “Why are you so damn mad, Dean?” Cas walked to step in front of him. He moved until he finally locked eyes with the angry hunter. “I’m only doing this for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged Cas’s touch away. “Don’t bullshit me, Cas! You’re running away cause you don’t want to face me.” Dean poked Cas’s chest as he continued his angry rant. “Why don’t you start acting like a fucking man and face the damn consequences instead of being a little bitch and running away?”

Cas didn’t stand down as he glared back at Dean. “Enlighten me then. What would those consequences be?”

Cas took Dean’s finger and pulled it away from his chest, but it stayed in his grasp as he took a step forward, never taking his eyes off the familiar angry glare. The angry man he left behind still here after all those years, looking back at him with an ‘I dare you’ stare, but Cas could always read past those words. Dean was hurting.

“Why don’t you stop acting like a…like a little bitch, and just-!” Cas stopped with a loud sigh while he dropped Dean’s hand, along with his stare. Instead, he looked down at their socked feet. Dean was wearing pizza socks while Cas wore matching burger ones. They came in the same pack, and Dean split it up for them. He cracked a small smile thinking of that day before looking back up at Dean with pleading eyes. “Dean. I’m tired of this. Can you please just…Just talk to me?”

“Nothing more to talk about, Cas.” Dean sounded more defeated than angry now. “I got the message. Loud and clear.”

Cas blinked at him a few times. “Well, I’m sorry, but I apparently haven’t gotten the same message.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Cas just stood there staring at him, waiting for him to continue. “Geez, Cas, how many times are you going to fuck with my—I get it, dude, you don’t feel the same! I am doing my damn best here to be fucking normal about this, and then here you come bringing that old relic back as if—Did I fuck up somehow? Am I not giving you enough space?”

“I have enough space, Dean.” Cas tried to understand Dean’s words, process them, but they all felt just as jumbled in his mind as they did, leaving Dean’s mouth. “I—I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.”

“Shocker.”

“Did I understand the message wrong?” Cas ignored him as he asked, turning his head towards the shattering remains of his gift.

He felt his shoulders fall as a pang of sadness hit him from seeing his first gift broken. Cas walked towards it, hoping he would find the tape safely stored away inside the deck of the Walkman. He crouched to pick up the big chunk of plastic in his hand. It was smashed beyond repair, and the eject button was not working. Great, he’s going to have to break it more.

“ASAP,” Dean mumbled to himself, and Cas hummed in response, twisting the part in his hand.

“Yes. That’s what you said, so I did.”

“I told you to talk to me ASAP years ago, Cas.” Cas didn’t have to look up to know Dean was walking closer to him. “Did you just listen to the message?”

“I did.” Cas’s shoulders slumped in guilt. Dean has been waiting for a response all this time. “Sorry.”

“So when you were—when you tried to return the tape, that wasn’t a, um, a rejection?”

Cas looked up at him before he stood up, the broken Walkman in his hand. “I have loved you then like I love you now, Dean. I would never. Is that what you think happened?”

“Yes!” Dean took a step forward as he ran his hand through his hair, his eyes traveling down to the broken shards. “Shit. So wait, when you said you loved me, before the empty…did you mean,” Dean cleared his throat as he walked closer, nervously scratching his beard when he realized he didn’t have any pockets to hide his hands in. “Did you mean romantically? Like, like human romance?”

“I,” Cas felt his throat dry up as he tried to swallow a lump as he nodded earnestly. “I did. Yes.”

Dean looked at him, looking for something, and before Cas could ask what it was, Dean had his hands on either side of Cas’s face—pulling him in close until they were chest to chest. Then lips to lips.

Cas didn’t even realize he dropped the machine until he realized he had his hands on Dean’s skin. Feeling his body lift off the floor until he was being dropped on the bed, and Cas was watching something he never thought he would have or hear.

“I love you, Cas. I love you so much.”

Happiness isn’t always in the having, but fuck, this was so much better by a long shot.

#miscommunication sure is a bitch #sorry they are frustrating idiots but they are in love so thats something #Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #destiel mixtape #My Writing #WormstacheWrites #Dean #Cas