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casdeans-pie · 8 months

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Limes and Spices

Liminal Spaces -> Limes and Spices

Suptober 2023 - Day 1 - Liminal

Tags: Fluff, Rambly Character Study, Post Canon, Angel Castiel. Words: 1,629

---Read on AO3---

Being unable to sleep had never been a problem before meeting the Winchesters. In fact, it had never even been something of note. Angels didn’t sleep. Castiel didn’t sleep. That’s all there had been to it.

When he’d first started spending any kind of significant time with the brothers Castiel had been unused to the concept of sleep beyond a vague notion of ‘humans require rest’ and had often forgotten that contacting either of them in the middle of the night would be met with irritation and resistance.

Especially from Dean, who had very early on been given the moniker of ‘angry sleeper’.

So Castiel had soon learned to occupy his time while they slept, and even if he felt that his information was important, it had to wait until the morning.

Sam slept more than Dean did. It hadn’t occurred to Castiel just how terrible Dean’s sleeping habits were until he’d been with them both for some time and become more familiar with human requirements of rest and nutrition. They’d been sat in an empty diner in the middle of the night when he first told Dean to eat something healthier than all the grease that he consumed and get a solid eight hours of sleep minimum. (Dean had taken another bite of his burger at this suggestion and grinned at him with his mouth and cheeks full in response.)

It had surprised Castiel that he’d even said anything. It shouldn’t have mattered to him what nutrients Dean lacked from his diet, or how he only had half of the amount of sleep that he should to properly rejuvenate his body each night.

But he did. He cared. He had wanted Dean to take better care of himself.

He had, in those early days – as Claire had explained to him with a roll of her eyes one day – ‘caught feelings’.

(When Castiel had eventually told her the story of how his attitude had changed over time towards Dean, Claire had acted as if the explanation had been obvious, but he’d never even experienced feelings at all up until that point, so he often thought that he deserved a bit of slack for not realising sooner.)

He would never admit to Dean the number of times that he had flown into whatever motel room the brothers were staying in for the night and had gently pressed the pad of his finger, feather-light, to Dean’s forehead as he slept – using his Grace to take the edge off his fatigue and help the healing process of any injuries he’d sustained on his hunts. Never enough that Dean noticed. But just enough for him to function better than he should on only four hours sleep and being thrown across the room by angry spirits, or whatever else he’d been up to. It had always physically pained Castiel to hold back from completely healing his injuries, but if Dean had gone to bed with a split lip and woken up without a mark… even the Castiel from back then knew it would have been a little suspicious.

In retrospect, he knew that he shouldn’t have even done that small gesture at all without permission. The Dean from back then would have called him a creeper or something similar.

Castiel smiled at the thought as he pushed himself from the wall he leaned against and began to walk. His footsteps should have thudded loudly through the bunker; the sound echoing and bouncing through the empty halls, but he only had to extend a tiny thread of Grace into his feet to muffle them.

He had walked these halls so many times that he could traverse through them with his eyes closed and know every single step that he took and where it would lead. (Even without using any of his powers or Angel eyes.)

Back when he’d been without his wings, he’d simply walked through the bunker to occupy the hours that the Winchesters slept. Endlessly pacing down stretching, identical, sterile hallways. He would stop in the huge catering kitchen, ready for the masses that it would never cater for again. He would run his fingers over the spines of the books that he’d already read in the library, wondering if there had been a time when the tables would have been full of people sat elbow to elbow researching together. He would watch the lights blinking on control panels that it used to be somebody’s job to maintain and record.

Everything in the bunker served as a reminder of absence.

Castiel had never liked the thought of Dean and Sam living there. He knew that they saw it as home, and he remained grateful for its existence to be that for them, but…

These liminal spaces reminded him of the endless motel rooms the brothers used to stay in.

‘Between’ places.

Somewhere on the way to somewhere else.

Maybe the reason the bunker reminded Castiel so strongly of the motels was because of its transitional feeling nature – it had served its purpose to the Men Of Letters when they’d occupied it, and it had served its purpose for Dean and Sam to be a safe base for them when they’d needed it. He only hoped that meant they would one day be able to stretch their wings (metaphorical ones of course) and escape into somewhere where they could live in the light like they both deserved.

Castiel sighed as he turned into yet another artificially lit hallway that stretched in front of him like all the others. He had only taken a single step forward when a warm sensation trickled up his spine and nestled into the base of his skull. Castiel closed his eyes and felt his whole body tingle, as the sensation increased and the warmth spread to his chest.

Cas… Dean prayed – his voice like a whisper straight into Castiel’s ears.

Castiel shuddered.

Cas… Get your feathery ass back in here.

Castiel smiled, and with barely the tiniest flap of his wings he stood in Dean’s bedroom.

Dean lay under the covers in his crumpled sleeping shirt, hair askew, and glared at him. His voice sounded sleepy and rough when he said, “I can hear you pacing from here.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “That’s impressive considering I muffled my footsteps with my Grace.”

Dean ignored him and barrelled on, “Pacing and thinking. That sound that gears make when they’re grinding? That was you. That’s what I could hear. Gears and stomping. How’s a guy supposed to get his four hours around here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Castiel said, as seriously as he could, trying not to let his lips twitch into the smile that he could feel creeping up on him, “I have a lot to think about.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re a bazillion years old and so’s that joke, now get your ancient ass in here so I can sleep without all that noise.”

Castiel finally smiled and huffed, which brightened Dean’s expression into an immediate grin.

With another tiny flap of his wings Castiel lay beside Dean in the bed, stripped down to nothing but his boxer shorts.

Dean wrapped an arm over Castiel’s middle and pushed his nose beneath his ear, in the crease just below his jawline. “Mm, I think that’s probably my second favourite thing you can do with your Angel mojo.”

“What’s the first thing?” Castiel rumbled, sighing deeply, and relaxing into Dean’s warm embrace.

“I’ll tell you in the morning, but then you’ll have to do it again so I can check it’s still number one on the list.”

“I agree. It’s a good thing to keep the list accurate.”

Dean tightened his hold. “Y’know I’d’ve been happy just to get you back, right? Powers or no powers. Wings or no wings.” His voice was thick with sleep, but still firm and sure.

“I know, Dean. I know. I just… I get worried that I’m disturbing your sleep by lying here awake. I worry that you won’t be able to fully relax knowing I’m just lying here next to you. That you find it disturbing…” Castiel struggled not to voice that he often wondered if things would have been easier for them both if he’d came back from the Empty human.

“Are you kidding?” Dean asked, his voice even lower. “I literally just woke up because you weren’t here, and I had to have you back. And it’s dumb and selfish ‘cause you can’t even sleep and I’m keeping you here like a damn prisoner but… I need you.”

I love you, came Dean’s quiet prayer, softly, gently into the back of Castiel’s mind.

Castiel inhaled and tried not to ruin the moment when he felt the usual flicker of fear and elation that accompanied every single time Dean would pray those words to him. “I love you too,” he said thickly.

“And there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about in the morning...” Dean whispered sleepily. He yawned widely and snuggled down further. (Dean would deny everything if Castiel described his actions out loud as snuggling.) “I think we should… move out… get a place of our own… something with a… big garage for Baby.”

“A big garage for Baby,” Castiel confirmed, “got it.” His heart swelled in his chest to know that Dean had been thinking the same thing he had. He would follow him anywhere. “And no more liminal spaces for Dean,” he added.

“Mm-hm, yep… no more… lime and spices.”

Castiel smoothed a hand over Dean’s arm. Getting to see him this vulnerable and relaxed would never stop being a miracle.

This between place had served them well, but now they could move into the sun together.

Castiel smiled as he closed his eyes, even though he wouldn’t sleep.

#I don't really know how this happened it was supposed to be a short drabble but please take it and I hope you like it #hands it to you gently #suptober23 #destiel #destiel fanfiction #deancas #pie's projects #spn fanfiction #suptober 2023 #suptober day 1

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zacharyleigh316 · 7 months

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Do Like Me, I'm Not Like Him

Suptober Prompt: Day 10 - Close Shave | Do Like Me, I'm Not Like Him | Teen and Up | 2.5K | Read on Ao3 (or below cut)

Dean walked by the bathroom, whistling the tune of a song he had heard somewhere, caught up in his own little world and thinking nothing of it, until a not-so-quiet pained “ow,” came from the other side of the door. He furrowed his brow and stopped whistling, before backing up slowly and making a stop in front of the door.

“Uh, kid? Everything alright in there?” He asked, knuckles wrapping on the door to announce his presence there.

What do you mean it's not the tenth of October anymore? lol

“Uh, kid? Everything alright in there?” He asked, knuckles wrapping on the door to announce his presence there.

“O-oh yes! Everything is…quite alright, Dean.”

Somehow, Dean didn’t quite believe that, so he put his hand on the doorknob, and stepped closer.

“You, um, sure buddy? Can I come in?”

“Um, just one second…”

Dean’s worry wasn’t assuaged, especially when he heard Jack shuffling around nervously, followed by a bunch of metallic clanging. With a sigh, Dean opened the door, ignoring the many protests from the kid.

“Wait- no- Dean-!”

Dean stopped in the doorway, taking in the scene before him, a guilty looking Jack standing in the middle of it all.

There was shaving cream all over the sink, a straight razor haphazardly stashed in its box, upended in what Dean assumed was Jack’s haste to ‘clean up the evidence’, and a nick on the kid’s face that was currently trickling blood.

“Dude…” he muttered, not sure whether to be relieved that Jack was okay, or more worried that the nephilim was trying to shave all by themselves.

“Please don’t say anything to Cas.”

Dean removed his hand from the doorknob and, instead, used it to drag down his face. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m not even sure what I would say to Cas. What…” Dean wet his lips, thinking of how he was going to word this, “why are you doing this without supervision, kid? Where did you even get that?”

Jack shrugged, which, much to Dean’s chagrin, wasn’t very forthcoming at all. Dean cocked a brow in response, and Jack let out a small, defeated sigh, like a reprimanded child—though Dean supposed, in this instance, they were like a reprimanded child.

“I wanted to be like you guys. You’re all cool adults who shave, and look badass!”

Dean snorted. “You know you could’ve asked, right Jack? If you wanted to be taught?”

“Really?” The kid beamed, and Dean couldn’t help the guilt that started to creep in at their expression.

It was true that the two of them didn’t get along at first, that Dean hated them because of who they reminded him of, what they reminded him he lost; of course it didn’t excuse how badly he treated them, everybody grieves…everyone did grieve. It wasn’t Jack’s fault that Dean was just too fucked up to do so healthily, or to even allow himself to do so any other way than getting angry, and resentful, than becoming hateful. But he has been making up for it since—or trying to at the very least.

Still, Dean never got over the overwhelming shitty feeling that consumed him whenever he was around them, especially after learning that, because he was so awful to the kid, Jack used to be scared of him. It was years ago now, sure, and they were all relatively safe, back, and alive, but Dean could never forget how he made them feel. Or the fact that, despite that, the kid still looked up to him, for reasons beyond Dean’s comprehension. He was a dick, plain and simple.

But Jack’s forgiveness, however ill advised it may seem (to Dean), however guilty it made him feel, gave him a chance to be a better dad to them than his dad was to him and Sam.

“Shit, yeah, kid, you could’ve asked any one of us. Even your dad. Cas was human once too, I’m sure he knows a bit about shaving.” Dean paused, taking in the state of the bathroom before turning back to Jack.

“Tell you what, clean this crap up, and I’ll be back with my shaving kit. None of this…barbershop, straight razor shit. ‘S’not safe for a kid your age, nephilim or not. I’ll teach you how to do it right.”

“I’d like that, Dean. Very much, thank you!”

“Sure.”

Jack nodded, looking very determined to do a good job on clean up, and, with one final moment’s hesitation, Dean exited the bathroom and made his way back to his room.

He grabbed his toiletry bag with his shaving kit, and quickly made his way back to Jack, who, thankfully, had the bathroom all cleaned up when he got back, and not had injured themself further while he was gone—even if it was only for a few minutes.

“Alright kiddo, watch me and listen carefully okay?”

“Okay!” Jack replied with a grin.

“Good. Now you want to wash your face before you start, like this.”

Dean took a washcloth from the towel rack and turned on the hot water tap, wetting the underneath the water. He glanced at Jack briefly, to make sure they were watching, and, once satisfied with what he saw, continued to bring the washcloth up to face, where he dragged it along, dampening the skin.

“Got it?”

“I think so…yes.”

Dean passed the washcloth to Jack and watched closely as the kid put the cloth underneath the hot water, and then brought it to his face, copying what Dean had done.

“Why do we do this?”

“Uh, well…technically this is just the way I prefer it. You can wet your face with cold water too, all it really does is help your shave, but in different ways.”

“What are those ways?”

Dean chuckled, getting his shaving cream out while he answered. “You ask a lot of questions, kid. That’s good. But wetting your face helps with a closer shave than if you were to do it dry. That make sense?”

Jack nodded, and Dean continued his explanation, “hot water before helps to open your pores, and softens the hair. Cold water does the opposite, but it does lead to…um, shit. I can’t think of the word? But it helps with razor burn. Makes it less likely.

“Anyway, after your face is washed, you want to put on the shaving cream. You can do this with me, just don’t make a mess Jack. Gotta be careful with it.”

“Got it. Don’t make a mess.” Jack smiled, and grabbed the shaving cream once Dean had passed it to him, putting the dime size dollop in finger, similarly to Dean.

“It expands when you spread it, so a little goes a long way. Plus you can always add more if you need it.”

“That makes sense.” Jack said with a focused nod, and Dean laughed at his determination.

“Sure kid. Just make sure you put it where your hair is, it’s not a face mask, okay?”

They went silent for a moment as they both turned their attention toward putting the shaving cream on, save Jack’s delighted gasp when the gel turned into foam. It brought a smile to his face, one that Jack returned once they caught wind of it.

“Kay, grab the razor and wet that too. You want to go in the direction of your hair. Do not rush, Jack, take your time, ‘m’serious. It’s very easy to nick yourself.” Dean said with a pointed look in their direction, and Jack ducked their head bashfully in response.

“You may heal quick with your angel mojo, but it still hurts like a bitch.”

“It did.” They replied, sadly in both agreement and, now, experience.

“See? Anyway, gotta make sure to rinse the razor every so often too. Don’t want the blades to get all clogged, because then all that work is for nothin’. Make sense kid?”

“Mhm!”

Dean started shaving his face, and soon Jack followed. They alternated when to use the water to rinse their razors, and, aside from Jack’s occasional glance toward Dean to watch what he was doing, and make sure they were doing alright, the both of them were staring intently at their reflections in the bathroom mirror, standing side by side.

When they were done, Dean tapped both razors out after their final rinse, and stored them away back into his back. He turned the tap to cold then, and wet the washcloth underneath the cold water this time, instead. When he looked up, a separate pair of blue eyes caught his attention, and then Castiel came into focus, the angel peeking through the crack in the door, a soft smile that spoke of fondness on his face. Jack didn’t seem to notice their dad at all, but Dean couldn’t help the way his body reacted when he did.

His stomach turned in that lovesick queasy way, and his fingers itched with the need to reach out, his soul flaring with the overwhelming song, the repeated melody of go to him, just go to him, but Dean ignored it. Ignored every urge, tamped it down; thankfully he was pretty good at that. He needed to focus.

Before Jack could sense something was up, Dean continued what he was doing before he got distracted, and cleaned his face with the cold washcloth. He rang it out, and passed it to the kid when he was done, who then went on and did the same.

“What do you think kid? Not so bad now, is it?”

“I love it, thank you Dean!” Jack checked themselves out in the mirror with a grin, and then gave Dean a hug.

Dean wrapped his arms around Jack and hugged back, and gave the nephilim a gentle squeeze.

“You’re really good at this Dean.”

“What shaving? I’ve been at it a long time, kid, trust me, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Jack shook his head, and watched contemplatively as Dean went to tidy up, putting everything back into his shaving kit and toiletry bag.

“Not that. You are good, but I meant teaching! You’re a very good teacher.”

“Oh.” Dean blinked, not expecting that. “Naw, I just…I actually taught Sam how to shave. Dad- I mean, my dad wasn't around, so it was just me and Sammy. He didn’t know how but desperately wanted to learn the nerd. So I taught him.” He said with a shrug.

“I see. So this is something traditionally taught by a father figure?”

“Uh…sometimes? Most of the time, maybe? But it doesn’t have to be. If you have a beard or know how to shave in general, it ain’t too hard to learn. Or teach.”

“Well, regardless, I think you did great, Dean. Thank you.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s really no problem kid.”

“You’re a good dad.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he watched the kid walk off, probably to look for someone in the bunker to show off their new shave, knowing them. But Dean was rooted to his spot, feeling tears well his eyes, a taught tension in the back of them, ready to snap. It wasn’t until his cheeks grew damp that he was finally able to move again, Dean quickly grabbing his bag and fleeing to his room.

Cas found him a bit later in the same place, sulking.

“Dean?” The angel gave a cursory knock on his door, before entering, and sat next to him on the bed.

“Hey Cas.”

“Are you alright? None of us could find you after. Jack was very pleased with their shaving lesson, you know. They wouldn’t stop gushing about it. Sam and Eileen were impressed.”

“That’s, ah, that’s real good.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean groaned, rolling over to look at the angel, predicting the look of concern on his handsome face.

“I’m fine, I swear. ‘S’just…Jack said something and-“

“You’ve been in here, beating yourself up, because you don’t think what they said is true?”

Dean snapped his mouth shut and snorted. “Shit Cas, don’t sugarcoat it too much, my teeth might rot.”

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you, I just know you enough to know that’s what you’re doing.”

“You’re right.” Dean groaned.

Cas reached up and cupped Dean’s face, giving him that smile from before, when their eyes met in the mirror. Subsequently, so did all of Dean’s symptoms return.

“Dean, you give yourself far too little credit. They’ve forgiven you long ago. We’ve all made mistakes, haven’t we?“

Dean leaned into Cas’ palm, and sniffled. “I get that Cas, but it doesn’t change all the shit I did.”

“Maybe not. But all the same, nothing changes anything we’ve done, either. To you, to others. That I’ve done. You forgave me right?”

“‘Course I did ”

“Hmm, and why’s that, Dean?”

“Dude, everything you did was because you thought you were right. You had good intentions for all that, Cas. Even if you were being stupid sometimes. You just wanted to protect everyone.”

Cas chuckled. “But why?”

“Uh, because we’re family? You love us, I love you…I dunno Cas, what’s your point here?”

The angel raised a brow and tilted his head to the side, waiting for Dean to get it. Dean’s eyes widened when he recalled what he said.

“Love?”

“Jack loves you so much, even if you don’t think you deserve it. Because you are a wonderful father, Dean. To them, to Sam…I watched you teach Jack how to shave just so they wouldn’t hurt themselves. And as their other dad, I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Cas-“

“I wasn’t finished.” Cas said, stopping Dean’s interruption.

He reached up and held Dean’s face in both of his hands, looking into his eyes.

“You need to forgive yourself, because nobody blames you Dean. Trust me, I’ve had to learn that the hard way.” Cas continued, smiling again in a way that made Dean’s heart flutter.

“We love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean chuckled, heat rising to his cheeks. “I love you guys too.”

Castiel hummed. “Good. Because you more than made up for all those mistakes.”

“You think so?”

“I know it.”

Dean smiled, and leaned in, joining his and Cas’ lips together. He reached up to hold the back of Cas’ neck, and brought them closer, relishing in the way everything seemed to quiet now that they were pressed together.

Cas separated from the kiss, and rubbed their cheeks together, a purr like rumble sounding in his chest. “This is really nice by the way. Your close shave. I like it.”

Dean laughed, and playfully pushed Cas’ face away. “What are you, a friggin cat?”

Cas just hummed, and leaned back in, trailing kisses along Dean’s jaw and down his neck, the smile on Cas’ lips felt against Dean’s skin. Dean’s laughter petered out into a chuckle, and then a content sigh, before the angel pulled away just enough to join their lips for a peck.

“Hey, how about a movie night tonight with the kid?”

“Mm, I’d like that. I’ll go let Jack know they’ll be ecstatic.

“Awesome.”

They kissed once more before Cas left, and, with a smile, Dean got up and made his way to the (former) Dean Cave—now dubbed family room—ready to teach his kid more, this time about the wonders of film and pop culture.

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