#[cas confession voice] he cares about the whole world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beansandsprouts · 9 months

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Au of dean reciprocating cas' confession

This is not an au this is actually what happened you guys are just misremembering obviously.

Reciprocation

Dean Winchester x Castiel

Summary: What actually happened when Cas confessed his love to Dean

Warnings: I mean it's the confession scene so it's a little angsty

"And she's gonna kill you, and then she's gonna kill me."

Dean and Cas exchange a look, the situation seemed hopeless.

"I'm sorry." There was a pain in Dean's voice, regret.

"Wait, there is...there's one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her. When Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him."

"You what?"

"The price was my life. When I experienced a moment of true happiness, The Empty would be summoned, and it would take me forever." Cas explained.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Cas could hear the suspicion and rising anxiety in Dean's voice. Cas started to tear up.

"I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want...It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know...I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it."

"What are you talking about man?" Dean felt his stomach drop. He felt like he knew what Cas was saying but he hoped he didnt. He didn't want it to end like this.

"I know. I know how you see yourself Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive and you're angry and you're broken. You're 'daddy's blunt instrument.' And you think that hate and anger thats...that's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know."

Cas smiles, and though tears are beginning to stream down his cheeks, it's full of love and joy and relief. Relief that he's finally getting to express the feelings that he'd kept hidden for so long.

"You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you." Cas laughs, the tears are still falling.

"You changed me Dean."

"Why does this sound like a goodbye?" Dean asks quietly. Inside he's praying. Praying that it's not a goodbye. That it's not the end.

"Because it is."

Dean takes a breath, wanting to say something, wanting to beg Cas to stay.

"I love you." And Cas smiles at him. Smiles brighter than he ever has, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Don't do this Cas."

Dean hears a wet sound behind him and turns to see the black goo of the empty squeezing in through the walls. He turns back tearfully.

"Cas..."

Cas puts his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Goodbye Dean."

"What?"

And Cas shoves him aside, allowing the empty to come forward, to take him.

"Cas!" Dean calls out, pleading.

Cas looks at him and smiles.

"I love you too." Dean screams, pain evident in his voice.

He sees Cas' eyes widen before he's swallowed by the empty, taking Billie right along with him.

He'd finally gotten what he'd wanted. He'd finally gotten the thing that would make up for everything, the pain and the struggles and the loss he's experienced his entire life. He'd gotten the love of the angel, the love that would make him feel whole again. And it was ripped from him. Stolen, before he could even have a second to enjoy it.

He sits back against the bunker wall, processing what had just happened. He feels his phone buzz, a call from Sam, and he presses ignore. Dean drops his face into his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. He'd lost what he'd always wanted.

It's only a few weeks later when Dean dies in that barn, hand clutching Sam's.

He opens his eyes to a country road. He grins.

"At least I made it to heaven."

"Yep."

Dean whips his head to where the voice came from, seeing Bobby sitting in a chair on the wooden porch of Harvelle's Roadhouse.

"What memory is this?"

"It ain't ya idjit."

"Yeah it is. Cause the last I heard you...you were in heavens lockup."

"Was. Now I'm not."

Bobby pauses before continuing.

"That kid of yours, before he went...wherever, made some changes here. Busted my ass out. And then he..."

Dean sits down on the chair next to Bobby.

"Well, he set some things right. Tore down all the walls up here. Heaven ain't just reliving your golden oldies anymore. It's what it always should have been. Everyone happy. Everyone together. Rufus lives about 5 miles that way... With Aretha," Bobby gestures up the road, "Thought she'd have better taste. And your mom and dad... they got a place over yonder." He gestures in another direction, "It ain't just Heaven, Dean. It's the Heaven you deserve. And we've been waiting for you."

Bobby takes out a beer for Dean and himself while Dean smiles proudly.

"So Jack did all that?"

"Well...Cas helped. It's a big new world out there. You'll see."

"Cas? He's around?"

Bobby grins, "Yeah he's around. He's been waitin for you too."

"Where?" Dean's voice is filled with nervous anticipation.

Bobby gestures to the door, "Inside. Go see your angel."

Dean sets his beer on the table and gets up from his chair, standing in front of the bar door for a moment before pushing it open.

It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the light difference of the bar, but when he does he spots that familiar trenchcoat and messy head of hair sitting at the bar.

His breath catches in his throat.

"Cas?"

Castiels head turns toward Dean, and he smiles, swiveling around on the bar stool and standing up.

"Hey Dean."

Dean stands there for a moment, taking him in, before rushing forward and wrapping one arm around the angels waist and using his other hand to cup his cheek before pulling Cas into a kiss.

He pulls back, staring into Castiels eyes. Tears were forming in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks.

"I've wanted to do that for so long."

Cas smiles softly and wipes away Dean's tears.

"I have too."

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester x castiel #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel

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destieltropecollection · 2 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2022 | Day 4 | Love Confessions

Three words | @chelly-khn

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 1,103 Main Tags/Warnings: 15x18, Dean POV, Dean’s confession, major character death, no happyending Summary: "I love you" Many love stories begin with these three words. But this one is different. Because it doesn't start with these three words, but ends with them. A story about Destiel's final moments. A story about the scene that Destiel first made cannon.

A Moment on the Lips, Forever on the Hips | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,213 Main Tags/Warnings: disordered eating, john winchester's a+ parenting, panty!kink Summary: Dean takes unhealthy measures to try to lose a few pounds. Cas refuses to let him hurt himself. It's fluffier than it sounds.

just a little bit of your heart | @kitmistry

Rating: General Word Count: 1,479 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-compliant, fluff and humor, pining Dean Winchester Summary: “So, how was it?” Dean asks, voice cracking with forced cheerfulness. “I, I’m planning on confessing my feelings to someone important and I wanted to rehearse, so I figured you’d be the best option. What with Sam being my brother and, and, Jack would just be weird, so...yeah.” Castiel’s face remains blank. “I think you were a bit brusque,” he says, slowly, at last. Like maybe Dean’s not making sense. “Maybe try loosening up a little? Um, explaining your feelings more clearly, perhaps.” Or, three times Dean tried to confess and one time he did.

How important is chap stick to you? (WIP) | @Pssy-wagn

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,902 Main Tags/Warnings: High School, teens, Summary: Two teen adversaries have an undeniable chemistry between them.

The Empty's Curse | @cloverhighfive

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,380 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Domestic Fluff Summary: Dean is dying and there is no getting out of it this time. After a round of goodbyes from friends, Castiel takes Dean on one last ride.

To Cross the Ocean | RogueTranslator (AO3)

Rating: General Word Count: 6,503 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester Has Internalized Homophobia, Dean Winchester Says "I Love You", Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Father-Son Relationship, Happy Ending, Post-Canon Summary: A few months after undoing Chuck’s ending, Jack asks Castiel to take him to the Nebraska State Fair, just the two of them. In hopes of experiencing everything as a normal boy, he locks away his powers and memories until sunset. The day that follows is filled with rides, fair food, a petting zoo, carnival games, a stuffed bumblebee named Otis, and lessons in bravery for the whole family.

Strix nebulosa | @Penguinsstealingsanity

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12,525 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Witches, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Fluff, owl!Cas, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester Summary: A hunt goes wrong and Cas ends up as an owl. But why is he trying to feed Dean? And how many t-shirts does it take to make a nest?

Aurora Borealis In His Eyes | @maleyah-givemetomorrow

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,241 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch/Familiar AU, modern era, red thread of fate, witch Cas, familiar Dean, shapeshifting, soulmates, Cas' handprint, love confessions Summary: Castiel is utterly blind to bipeds on his evening walks. Preferably his attention goes towards feline quadrupeds. His sister, Anna, insists a familiar will come to him. As history would have it, a factually correct statement. Witches know their familiar, an animal who possesses a higher than average intelligence and heightens magical ability, is somewhere out in the world. True sentience for a familiar usually only surfaces after the bond with a witch is formed, but Fate and Luck determine whether witch and familiar ever meet or if it requires another stay at The Summerlands before they can try again in the next lifetime.

#destiel trope collection 2022 #destiel trope collection #day 4 #love confessions

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lyconite · 1 year

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Just Speak

The original prompt inspiration. Format is like this because this was originally a series of tweets.

Dean sighed, unable to sleep despite the length of their day. The pale moonlight filtering in through the windows of the impala painted him in stark highlights and deep shadows where he lay, stretched out across the front seat. 'What is it Dean?'

Sam’s voice from the back was tired, but soft. It had been a long time since they’d spoken to each other about anything personal, but Dean was always more likely to open up in the early hours of the morning, when their eyes didn’t have to meet and he could talk to the shadows.

Dean didn’t answer, his eyes closed against the light and the world as he willed sleep to take him. He didn’t have to speak; Sam would be fine without an answer. He always was.

But when sleep wouldn’t come Dean sighed again, finally letting his lips and tongue put shape to the thing that had been scratching at the back of his brain for weeks. ‘It’s gone.’ He knew it wasn’t an answer, but sometimes words were hard; he needed Sam to drag them out of him.

‘What’s gone?’ Dean didn’t want to say it; he knew as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth he would feel weaker for having made them real. But he said it anyway, because Sam’s quiet, gentle question deserved an answer. ‘Cas’ handprint, it’s gone.’

There it was; the uncomfortable vulnerability, the awkward silence. Dean hated it, almost as much as he hated the bare patch of skin on his shoulder that shone in the silver moonlight, smooth and unmarked. Unnatural.

Sam’s clothes rustled as he shifted, and the sound of his soft reply filtered quietly over the seat back, alighting on Dean’s ears with enough of his brother’s usual sickening compassion to make his skin crawl. ‘Why does that bother you?’

This was why Dean didn’t like talking; Sam was entirely too good at asking all the right questions. ‘I don’t know.’ It was the question that had been plaguing him, keeping him up at night. He truly didn’t know. There were too many answers. Too few.

‘You must have some idea?’ ‘I don’t know Sam…’ Dean sighed tiredly, ‘it was a reminder of Hell, of how I got there. Of being given a second chance. Of someone believing in me, even if it was for the wrong reasons…’

‘Being a demon healed me; it made me whole again. No scars, no marks. No memories. It feels…wrong.’ The silence stretched long between them, before Dean added quietly, ‘The outside doesn’t match the inside anymore.’

Sam was silent, clearly not knowing how best to respond to the quiet confession, and all of the pain it dredged up for both of them. At last he settled on ‘You know Cas still believes in you, with or without the scar; that hasn’t changed.’ Dean snorted quietly, ‘He shouldn’t.’

‘Have you talked to him?’ Dean frowned, ‘And said what Sam? ‘Hey, I miss the awful scar you left on me, care to burn a new one into my skin?’ No thanks.’ Sam’s voice was thick with fatigue as he responded, ‘If it means that much to you, why not?’

Dean heard Sam shift again, and suddenly his brother was sitting up, his long arms crossing the seat back as he leant over it, blinking blearily through his messy hair as he tried to see him in the dim light, ‘You could pray to him? He always answers you, you know he’ll come.’

‘Sure Sammy’, Dean rolled over, turning his back to his brother so that he didn’t have to meet his eyes as he closed his own for sleep, ‘maybe tomorrow.’ But Sam could speak Dean well enough to know that ‘maybe tomorrow’ meant ‘never’. It always did with Dean.

#destiel fanfiction #destiel #dean winchester #deancas #minific #flash fiction #ficlet #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn #sam winchester #castiel #fanfiction

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networksupported · 2 years

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"You're unbelievable. You know what, maybe I should stop caring about trying to save you from a clearly unhealthy relationship. It's your death wish after all. You getting together with a virus. What a fucking joke."

He wasn't bitter, he wasn't angry, he wasn't upset about losing a friendship (potential friendship?) with Cas. Bradley opened his mouth to say more, a lot more, but snapped it shut again with a glower.

"Don't come running to me when it turns out I was right." He says before he could stop himself and turns on his heels, set on just forgetting this whole thing ever happened.

[cas flashes a very sparkly graphic of a very rude gesture at his back, more just because he doesn't currently have any voice with which to yell 'i'm sorry, i didn't mean it, please come back, i (the emotion-reading program) couldn't actually be assed to read your emotions until now i'm sorry i thought you were kidding' as loudly and as desperately as he really wants to in this moment.]

[besides, what kind of confession would that be? would bradley care? no.]

[would he come back? no.]

[did cas actually want him back? yes, more blindly and achingly than he'd wanted anything before. no.]

[would cas really go running to him if this went wrong?]

[(cas didn't want to think about that, actually. cas didn't want to think about this going wrong. cas didn't want him to be right, and by everything unholy in the world, cas didn't want to be alone either.)]

> FINE!

[he type-yells, for all he knows bradley can't see it. he wouldn't have the guts otherwise.]

> BE LIKE THAT, THEN. COWARD.

#:CONTINUE:#//#the girls are fightttiiing #that's basically their tag rn DGSHD

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luxshine · 3 years

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“Yo a ti, Cas” Or how mexican dubbing gripped us tight and raised us from Despair.

Ok. So I promised a big meta about the dubbing thing and so while I don’t have all the answers YET, here’s a bit of perspective on the differences between Despair and The Truth.

First, a little background. I am a former professional dubbing translator. While I worked on anime series from Japanese to Spanish, rather than in live action ones from English to Spanish, the process is not that different. Also, I worked in Mexico, where Supernatural is dubbed, so that’s why I can make the assumptions I make. Finally, my specialization in college was translation from English to Spanish, so I guess I know what the hell I’m talking about.

So let’s start on HOW you translate something for a dub. Back in the day, you got a ton of VHS tapes with the episodes on them with time codes, and, if you were lucky, a shooting script. This is to say, it was not a transcript of the actual words said in the episode, but the script BEFORE the actors, directors, and everyone else had a hand on what was said and changed. And thus, anything adlibbed? Is not going to be in that script which, at least for the anime side of things? Was a nightmare as the script was usually “And here X actor can say whatever they want” and I had to go and listen to the scene ten thousand times. Now a days, you get either a video file or a streaming link, and sometimes, the shooting script. If you get a script, btw, you can also not get a script in the original language. I know that the person who had to translate Sprited Away to Spanish was working off a German script, not the Japanese one. So yeah, some things can be lost in translation there.

THEN you get to translate. BUT you can’t just translate word by word. You have to adapt it so that it will sound like something a person will say, and sometimes, literally is not the way to do it. And in particular, Mexican dubbing has a reputation to uphold as the “Neutral” dub that is send to most Spanish-speaking countries in Latin America, so we can’t use certain words (I don’t have the list at hand, but I remember that I couldn’t use “Llanta” for Tire, and so I had to use “Neumatico”. And no “sweaters” or “hotcakes” or stuff like that), AND we have to match the lips of the original video. Which is like, the worst nightmare ever because of what we call “labiales”, that is to say, the letters where lips close.

I can’t tell you how much we all loved when a character gave a long winded speech with their back to the camera due to those damned closed lip letters.

All this is to say that sometimes, the line could be “We are all in this together for good or bad”, and the translation become something more like “Estamos en esto, por las buenas o las malas” (We’re on this, the good way or the bad way) or “Estamos juntos en las buenas y en las malas” (We’re together in the good and the bad), depending on the translator, dub director, and voice actor.

Depending on the client, that is, the original owner of the series, sometimes they will review the translation once it’s all dubbed and edited. I know that in the Avengers movie, a Disney rep was present on the cabin and forbade any changes from the script, which resulted on a couple of awkward lines in the end result. I don’t know if that’s the case for Supernatural, but I honestly doubt it. Still, translators can’t make huge changes for the dialogue. One couldn’t just ADD a relationship that wasn’t there, no matter what.

(As an aside, due to the very conservative mindset of some tv stations, it’s more common that gay relationships become more ambiguous, by changing “I love you” to “Te quiero” which can be more of a filial love than a romantic one. And well, that one case in Sailor Moon where a gay character was changed into a woman because the dub director honestly thought the character was a woman. But that was in the nineties)

Now, let’s go to how Castiel’s speech was translated.

The original, according to Superwiki, went like this:

Castiel: You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.

Dean: Why does this sound like a goodbye? Castiel: Because it is. I love you. Dean: Don't do this, Cas. Cas.

And the translation, as it was aired, went like this (And people, you have no idea the war flashbacks transcribing this gave me, so I hope you appreciate it):

Castiel: Eres el hombre mas amoroso sobre la Tierra. Un hombre sin egoismo; el hombre mas generoso que haya visto, y que jamas vere. Sabes que desde que nos conocimos y desde que te saque del infierno, el conocerte me ha cambiado. Porque a ti te importa. Y a mi me importa. Me importas tu. Y me importa Sam, me importa Jack, me importa todo el mundo. Y fue por ti. Tu me cambiaste, Dean.

Dean: Porque suena esto a despedida?

Castiel: Porque asi fue. Te amo.

Dean: Yo a ti, Cas. (The empty appears and Billie opens the door) Cas…

Castiel: Adios Dean

Dean: No!

Ok. So… At first glance, they’re pretty much the same until we get to the I love you. BUT let’s dissect it a little bit.

Cas begins with a “Eres el hombre mas amoroso sobre la Tierra” which is not how I would’ve translated “The most caring man on Earth” since “caring” is more like “Cariñoso” rather than “amoroso” which would be “loving”, and yes, there’s a difference. Plus, “el hombre mas amoroso” sounds a bit clunky, so Personally, I’d have gone with “Eres el hombre mas cariñoso en la Tierra”, that would’ve given us more time for the rest of the speech, but I wonder if the translator choice for Amoroso instead was more due to the fact that “amor” (love) is more clearly romantic than “care” (cariño, in a sense, more on this later) and so it foreshadows the end.

Again, with the literal clunkyness we have “Un hombre sin egoismo” (A man without egoism) which sounds weird no matter what language you speak, and it should’ve been “Un hombre dadivoso” (A giving man) or “un hombre desinteresado” (a selfless man) although the second could be mis-construed as “a man without interests” so “dadivoso” would’ve better. But the more puzzling is that the Spanish separates the selfless man from the next, which is REALLY confusing as the English is “the most loving man”, which would be “el hombre mas amoroso” making it quite redundant, so the Spanish changes it to “the most generous man”, “el hombre mas generoso”. To add to this, Cas continues with “that I have seen and I will ever see” instead of “That I know”, because it’s far more poetic. And loving.

So yeah, Mexican Cas is basically saying that Dean Winchester is made of love and puppies.

Ahem.

The next part “You know, ever since I pulled you out of hell, you’ve changed me” is more or less word for word, and the only thing that changes is that the English sounds more like a question and the Spanish one is an affirmation. YOU KNOW that ever since I pulled you out of hell, you changed me.” Little verb tense play, that doesn't change much except Cas’s resolution to say what he has to say.

And then we get to the part that made me squeal out loud. Because we go from

“Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you”

“Porque a ti te importa. Y a mi me importa. Me importas tu. Y me importa Sam, me importa Jack, me importa todo el mundo.” Which at first glance is the same, but NOPE.

First change: The original is in past tense “I cared”. Spanish version is in present tense: “I care”.

Which is a little non important thing except when you remember that simple present means “immutable absolute truth that won’t change with time”

Second, the choice of word for care.

I mentioned before that Care can be Cariño, as in filial, non romantic love (Or romantic love pet name, as it can also be Darling. It’s one of THOSE words). Other translations for care include “cuidado” (as in attention, concern, keeping, and worry), and of course “interesarse” (Which also can be care), “preocuparse” (care, bother, trouble, mind, fuss), and yes, “importar” but “importar” ONLY translates to English as a verb as “import”, “matter” “amount to” and notice how none of those words include “love”.

Mexican Cas is not saying “you love the world, and so I do”. Mexican Cas is saying “The world matters to you, and thus it matters to me, but my feelings for the World (and Sam, and Jack) are not in the same league as my feelings for you.”

And then Dean asks “Why does this sound like a Goodbye”, just like in English, in present tense…

And Mexican Cas replies in PAST tense. “Porque asi fue”. And THIS is important because it means that everything he said before WAS the goodbye, and not what comes next. All the rest? Is in the past. “Because it was”. Not “Because it IS”. And the next part? Is their future.

I love you.

Te amo.

Simple present. No ambiguity like “te quiero”. Spanish Te amo is for romantic love. Not brotherly, not family, not bro-mantic. ROMANTIC.

It’s like “I’m IN love with you” (Although that’d be “Estoy enamorado de ti” and I doubt that would’ve fit in the time Misha spoke)

And of course, the answer. “Yo a ti, Cas”. Not “And I, you” as I’ve seen it before (And I also thought it was, until transcribing the scene) but a simple “I, you, Cas.” Which ok, pretty cave-speak, but the meaning is pretty clear. Dean Winchester loves his gay angel.

It is also telling that the empty doesn’t appear until AFTER Dean confessed, so no, Mexican Cas is not “happy with the saying”, he had to get to the “happy with the having”.

And when Billy appears, it does seem as if he wants to say something more, but Cas is a love-sick selfsacrificing dumbass and so we all get our hearts broken.

I did get in contact with Dean Winchester’s mexican voice actor, and am waiting for answers to a small interview I did with him which includes the question “did that And I you, Cas” was in the script, and am trying to contact Castiel’s mexican voice actor. So I will be updating you on that. But I hope this clears up some of the questions about how Mexican dubbing made Destiel Canon :D

#dean deserved better #castiel deserved better #they silenced you #bi dean #supernatural mexican dubbing #y yo a ti #te amo #destiel #destielforever

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quillquiver · 3 years

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and it’s good

DeanCas coda to 15x19: ‘Inherit the Hearth’

He hasn’t stopped praying.

From an empty world to one filled with people, Dean has gone to his knees every night—on the floor, the gravel, the dirt—and prayed. Head down. Face pressed to his knuckles. Dear Cas…

From each failed plan to their eventual, anti-climactic victory, Dean shares it all. And when it’s all over, when they wake up the morning after with no Jack, no Cas and no world to save, it’s bittersweet. Confusing. Like being released into the wild after living in a cage.

Where does he go from here? What does he do?

What does he want?

Sam doesn’t have a problem finding his own answers, but then again, he never has; he was the one with the life outside The Life: the college boy, the dreamer. Dean… Dean needs some time to adjust. Regroup. Grieve, maybe—whatever the hell that looks like. So, he serves himself a bottle of Jack, grabs a box of Pop Tarts, and makes his way to his recliner. First day of freedom? Dr. Sexy and sweet oblivion sound awesome.

“Hey, uh, what’re you—” Sam cuts himself off, skidding to a halt in the doorway of the Dean Cave. He’s got that pinched look on his face, the one that means: inevitable bitch face, concerned edition. Dean waves him off.

“Chilling out,” he mutters, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Figure I deserve a vacation.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “A vacation.”

“Yeah, genius. A vacation. You know, a little me time?” Dean takes another pull. “You got a problem with that?”

Sam shifts his weight. Frowns at the floor. It’s weird to see him like this; he’s so big, now, but that move is straight out of his teen years—when he’d been gangly and awkward and angry and unsure. He looks up, resolved, and Dean heaves an internal sigh. Whatever the fuck Sam is trying to do, he doesn’t want any part in it.

“What if you come with me?”

“Nope.”

“Dean—”

“Look, Sammy, we fought the big fight, we won, there ain’t nothing left to do,” Dean says reasonably, bitterly, turning back to the DVD menu. “So I don’t wanna go into town, or to the store, or wherever else you’re planning on gallivanting to today. I’m gonna watch my show, drown myself in booze and pass the fuck out, because that is what I’m owed. Capiche?”

“Eileen texted. I’m… I’m going to go get her.”

It’s weird, Dean thinks, how many times a heart can break. He clenches his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly. Allows himself a second—one second—of envy and jealousy before he slaps a smile on his face and nods. “Good,” he says. He means it. “You should.”

“So…” Sam trails off.

“So…” Dean echoes.

“…Come with.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna crash your romantic reunion okay? That’s weird.”

“Dean—”

“Sam.” And there’s more that comes out in that word than he ever intended. It hangs heavy in the air between them before dropping to the ground like a stone. Loud. Shattering on impact. Dean thinks his voice might have cracked and his vision is blurring because this pity? This is fucking worse. Shoving a Pop Tart in his mouth, Dean chews with his mouth open in the vain hope that his table manners will prove an adequate distraction, but that shit hasn’t worked for a long time.

It tastes like sawdust.

“Just go,” he says. “You have to go, man.”

It’s as much a plea for his brother as it is for himself, and for one long, terrifying moment Dean thinks Sam’s going to refuse. That he’s gonna be dragged across the country to witness his brother find happiness in a way he will never be able to have.

…But Sam is kind, not cruel, and when those big eyes of his fill with tears, Dean has never been so happy to have given himself up. He watches as his little brother’s shoulders slump. As he readjusts his duffle.

“I’ll be home in two days,” Sam says. “If you’re dead, I’m gonna pissed.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean replies, forcing himself to tease. To be excited. He deserves this. “Go sing in the rain or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Sam volleys back, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He looks so happy, and Dean can’t stop himself from mirroring the expression. It hits him all at once, then—a sucker punch to the gut, the heart—that no matter what, he did right by his little brother. That he’s grown up to be smart, and kind and caring, and now he can be happy. And Dean—Dean’ll figure it out. But Sam’s taken care of and that’s… good. That’s a lot.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Mm.”

“I love you,” Sam says. He’s seven and thirty-seven and Dean feels something inside himself ease and break all at once.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”

Sam grins.

***

There’s no more frozen pizza.

It’s already a fucking travesty that the pizza place doesn’t deliver to their secret underground bunker, but Jack polished off the last two pies—and while it’s a little bit hilarious to think of the ‘New God’ (his kid) scarfing down shitty plain cheese in his pjs, it’s also awful, and painful. So Dean slips on his shoes, grabs his keys, and shoulders on the jacket with Cas’s handprint over his hole-y sleep shirt.

It’s not like he’s sober, but he’s done worse.

It feels like a shitty pizza day, so Dean makes a beeline for the Wal-Mart and its frozen section, stocking up on two of every topping from the cheapest brand they’ve got. He grabs popcorn, chips, twizzlers and margarita mix, because fuck it, and smiles at the cashier. It’s not an epic romantic reunion, but this is what normal people do, right? They take an entire day and wallow without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Dean’s cradling his spoils, twizzler hanging out of his mouth, shuffling out of the garage when—

He freezes.

The kitchen. There’s someone banging around in the kitchen.

Not like aggressively banging—one quick sweep around the area confirms no signs of forced entry—but just like… moving shit. Washing the dishes from this morning, or getting ready to make something new. Dean’s heart is caught between hope and heartbreak and he forces himself towards the latter. It’s probably Charlie, or Bobby or Jody or Donna or, hell, even Jack or Claire. No one else can get in. And if it’s something dangerous… well, Dean doesn’t have a weapon on him, and his damn pizza’s thawing.

But it’s not Charlie or Bobby or Jody or Donna. It’s not Jack. It’s not Claire.

…It’s Cas; freshly showered, dressed in Dean’s fucking clothes, making himself a sandwich.

He’s beautiful. Dean’s shirt—AC/DC, the one with the mustard stain on the collar—is just a little small on him, and he’s humming, and Dean has to blink once twice three times to make sure he’s not a goddamn mirage but no he’s still there, still scooping grape jelly onto the good bread and then putting the dirty spoon on the counter like a friggin’ heathen and—

“Are you gonna wash that?”

It’s sure as fuck not what he’d meant to say, but it gets the job done. Cas drops the spoon—the spoon—and whirls around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Dean,” he breathes, like Dean’s name is some kind of benediction. Like it’s important.

Dean clutches his groceries tighter to his chest. “A-Are you…?” he asks. Steps forward. Steps back. Stares because he can’t, he can’t— “Are you real?”

Cas is barefoot. He’s quiet when he steps across the linoleum. His hair is turning fluffy where it’s drying and his eyes are blue and bright and he’s a miracle. “I’m real,” he confirms quietly. His hand twitches by his side, and Dean thinks that’s fair. Thinks that he gets that Cas has reservations because of—because.

But they’re unfounded.

Dean drops his spoils because they’re an afterthought; nothing is more important than knowing, than reaching out to touch his fingertips to Cas’s shoulder. To his jaw. He can’t stop the tears from springing to his eyes like he can’t stop himself from laughing. Smiling. And suddenly he has Cas in his arms and he smells like Dean’s soap and Sam’s fancy shampoo, and they’re holding—clutching each other, and Dean turns his head because it has to be now he has to say it now: “Cas, I—”

“I know,” Cas interrupts. “You don’t have to—I know.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, voice high with something like hysteria. The whole thing is so absurd, so insane, so fucked, that it’s all he can do to bury his face in Cas’s neck. To squeeze his eyes shut. To talk. “Well, you’re a friggin’ moron,” he says. “And you got no goddamn idea what you’re talking about, because—because you changed me, too, you dick.” Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s waist and Dean’s heart pounds like it’s trying to escape and his throat is dry and he’s sweating and he’s gonna be sick, he’s gonna die— “A-And I love you.”

He wrenches himself away, then, glaring like he dares Cas to take the words away from him. “Okay?” he asks, rhetorically. Menacingly. It’s a declaration and a confession and a challenge. And Cas meets his stare unflinchingly. He reaches up to thumb at the wetness on the apple of Dean’s cheek. “Okay,” he says. He nods. Leans in. “Okay.” Their mouths brush. “Good.”

It’s not even a real kiss, so Dean can’t be blamed for how he chases; how he breathes good, in faint agreement like a lovesick fool, and moves until they’re kissing good and proper—slow and sweet and then deep and wet and it’s good, it’s so good, he’s so good.

Later, they’ll have to make every thawed pizza. They’ll drink the margarita mix and share the same popcorn bowl and pay no attention to Dr. Sexy playing in the background. They’ll talk about Chuck and Jack and Sam. They’ll stare. They’ll tease. They’ll flirt.

But for now, Cas twists his hands in Dean’s shirt and Dean buries his hands in dark hair. They pause for breath only to come together, again and again and again.

And it’s good.

#destiel coda #coda fic #15x19 #spn 15x19 #s15 #spn spoilers #second to last coda ever folks #it's fucking emotional #adventures in fanfic

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sinnabonka · 3 years

Text

It’s spec time: Love always wins

(Okay, I promised it, I��m doing it, there’s no stopping me now.)

For the last three days I’ve been all over the place emotionally, clinging to every post saying Cas is not dead dead, saying his story is not done, but then someone wrote the “but” post and, there I go again, down the bottomless pit of angst.

I’ve been a Schrödinger believer for so long with this show, one can get used to it.

I know I’m not the only one feeling this way, regarding whether Cas is coming back or not. We won’t know till we know ©

Ep 19 speculations here

But let's speculate!

Apparently, there's nothing better for me to do way past midnight on Saturday and on Sunday morning (when I’m writing this).

What makes us think 15*18 might indeed be the end of Castiel’s story:

Everything the crew and Misha told us, officially, is pressing toward Cas dying permanently in this scene. “Proud ending”, indeed.

Castiel’s story has the perfect symmetry this way, with the handprint, the “Hello, Dean” - “Goodbye, Dean”, and the whole “Dean Winchester is saved” theme.

He is smiling, while Empty takes him, he’s content with his sacrifice.

Something about Castiel’s monologue didn’t sit right with me for some time. The whole point of happiness being not in having, but in being and saying, gave me an idea of it being the way writers say we can’t have Destiel, but we should be happy to know it’s real and to hear it said aloud after all those years.

Supernatural had to be the story of two brothers and their journey, and Winchesters driving in the sunset is the most probable endgame we are gonna get.

Even though all those points seem valid, we can’t trust any of it.

Let me fix it for you:

It wouldn't be the first time the crew lied about someone being on set.

The handprint was not scripted. I repeat, the handprint was not scripted.

Castiel’s monologue could be just about loving Dean, and it’s just my poor wounded heart looking too deep into it and seeing my angstloving reflection on the bottom of the well.

And Supernatural might indeed be about family, but, as we know, family doesn’t end with blood, and doesn’t start with it either. Cas is family, after all.

I’m glad be are clear on this one.

What tells us Cas is coming back and we are getting Destiel endgame:

(Brace yourself, it’s gonna be wordy)

1. The most obvious, without rewriting his memory or going OOC, there’s no happy ending for Dean (not the crappy bittersweet substitute) without Cas.

Even without the love confession in place, we’ve seen what Cas’ death did to him before, it shuttered him to pieces. Imagine the damage it's gonna cause now!

“I love you, I always did, bye bye now, have a long and happy life knowing my feelings for you have killed me dead.” Really? No win can make up for it.

2. My fave point, aka the natural dynamics of storytelling. The big loss predicts the big win. The deeper the wound, the brighter the prize. Following the roller coaster this season has been, we should be up for a pretty high damn up pretty soon.

So, there’s The Big Loss (losing Eileen, all of their friends, all the people on Earth and Cas).

Next - The Big Win (defeating God, getting their free will back, getting humanity back).

Then, we should have The Big Regret and Reflect moment (Sam and Dean talking a lot at this point, realization of things which are important, what they want with Chuck gone).

And at the end, there’s The Ultimate Happy ending waiting for us (see point 1 again in case you are not sure what that means).

3. You know what, forget it, this one is my favorite. The parallels. Throughout this season we’ve been spoon-fed with context (Geez, it feels nice to finally know we are not crazy, we are not seeing things, we got it all right!) and writers chose to do so via parallels, via reflections, subtle hints.

It would be some lazy storytelling to shove everything to our faces, so, instead, we’ve got: Charlie and Stevie, Sam and Eileen, the world and humanity, Dean and Cas.

Everyone separated. Forever? No, not really. And I don’t buy everyone getting their loved ones back, except Dean. C’mon.

4. Unresolved love confession. Yes, Cas might have died with a smile, meaning it’s enough for him to speak his truth and be gone. But Dean? Him sobbing in the dungeon, ignoring Sam’s calls (he literally never chose anything above Sam before), the “Don’t do this, Cas” part - it’s the lowest he’s ever been.

To sum up, Dean didn’t get his closure. He might have needed five to six business days to process, but he still has his truth he has to find out and then give a voice to.

And yeah, I know, he could confess via prayer or something, but we all know that’s something needed to be said face to face. (Btw, he already confessed to Cas in purgatory via prayer once, you can try and prove me wrong, but good luck with that, sunshine.)

5. The perfect symmetry. If I were in SPN writers room, I would literally cry my eyes out of joy at the symbolism this ending gives. I would literally fight everyone against it.

The broken man not deserving to be saved is dragged from Hell by the most loyal and righteous angel Heaven ever seen.

The fallen angel not deserving to be loved is dragged from Empty by the most loving and caring man the sun shone on.

I mean, c’mon, people. Poetry.

(We are nearing a very important thing here, fasten your seatbelts, please.)

6. The message the show wants to give the world has changed. From “it’s all about the journey, about saving people, killing things, no one ever gets what they deserve”, the philosophy has changed drastically toward the “good things do happen, you deserve to be saved, to be loved”.

Come and see what lane we are walking right now: allowing yourself to love again, to experience things again / losing the love of your life a moment later / fighting for your love / winning your love back.

I believe the final message is: love always wins.

Love is not one’s weakness, love is power, love is strength, it’s a perfect fuel.

Humans declare war in the name of love, kill and get killed in the name of love, but, most importantly, humans live and win those wars in the name of love, too.

7. Go big or go home is on the table, and no one goes home this time.

Supernatural was a bunch of broken glass for soooo long, I think this time writers are gonna give us something good, for a change. Not bittersweet good, but actually cotton-candy-almost-diabetes-sweet good.

Why?

Because *loud and clear* we deserve having good things happening to us!

Also, it’s The End, the creators have nothing to lose, but, on the other hand, the ultimate happy ending would allow them to leave an enormous mark on the world and Supernatural to be known as the only show that actually could.

To sum up:

Dean can’t be happy with Cas gone and, following the logic of prebuilt parallels, he won’t have to - everyone gets their loved ones back at the end, because love always wins.

Cas might be at peace with speaking his truth, saving Dean and being gone, but it is not fair, Dean also deserves a chance to be heard.

Few seasons ago I would laugh in my own face for these arguments, but the philosophy of the show has been transformed. During the last few years we were being prepared for this moment, slowly, gently being led toward this moment.

Supernatural has to give us the Destiel endgame to prove their point.

click x click for more

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queermania · 10 months

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(last reblog made me realize something but i didn't want to add it to the post or in the tags because it's spoilery if you've only seen up to s8)

there are a lot of reasons why cas' confession is so unsatisfying to me but one of the reasons i haven't been able to articulate until now is that it kind of.... undoes everything that preceded it? cas gives voice to the thing we've all been watching play out for twelve years and that should feel like a win, it should feel like relief, because happiness isn't in the having, it's in the just being, it's in the just saying, right? but, in saying it, cas removed the being part of it from everything that happened prior. cas' speech made it feel like we haven't been watching two people who are in queer love and who are very much in a queer relationship.

instead, we've been watching a guy secretly pining for another guy who may or may not have secretly loved him back. and that... is not true to the story i've been watching unfold? that only works if i accept the premise that the writers and the actors and the directors and the crew and the editors weren't actually telling a queer love story to the best of their ability the whole time. and i don't accept that! they were telling the story!! it was on purpose!!!

like, the reason dean's confession-prayer in purgatory is satisfying is because it doesn't undo anything that came before it.

Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. I-- Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know -- I know that it's -- i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just -- it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it. No matter how -- how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And -- and I-I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long -- I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm -- I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. Okay.

this is dean reiterating everything we as an audience already know because we've already seen it (dean wants cas there and he regrets letting him go and there is nothing cas could do that would make dean actually give up on him). if you replace "best friend" with literally anything else that effectively means "romantic partner" this still works. it doesn't change it at all. this is dean and cas. this is destiel. this is the story i've been watching since lazarus rising. maybe even the pilot.

contrast that with 15x18, however:

I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it . . . I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're "daddy's blunt instrument." And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you see it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean . . . I love you.

this is a different story. it changes everything. and, like, i think that was supposed to be the point, but unfortunately for me it is one of the reasons it doesn't work. why doesn't cas think he can have dean? is it simply because he thinks dean doesn't want him back?? is it because he thinks dean is straight?? like, the fact that i don't instinctively know the answer to that is a problem, and the reason i don't know the answer is because it doesn't jive with the show i've been watching for fifteen seasons. castiel's confession is the conclusion to a different show's run, one where they were actually queerbaiting the whole time and decided to throw the fans a bone at the very end.

but they weren't queerbaiting. they were writing textually queer characters with textually queer relationships.

and so a speech where cas is confessing to being in love with dean even though he thinks dean's straight doesn't really work at any point in the show's timeline for me.

and a speech where cas is confessing to being in love with dean even though he doesn't think dean loves him back in that way doesn't really work at any point past s12 for me, and even within s12 to be honest.

like, the narrative actively starts to fall apart in 13x01 if you don't take dean and cas being in love/in a relationship as a given, but even episodes like 12x10 and 12x19 imply something was already happening with them.

so. yeah.

#deancas #1518 #confession #mp

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rowyn-writes · 3 years

Text

A Mother's Love Part Two

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, major angst, implications of depression

Pairings: Dean x Wife!Reader

Characters: Dean, Jack, Sam, Reader, Cas (Mentioned only)

Word count: 3k

You sat on the couch of your childhood home, staring blankly at the T.V. Your knees were pulled up to your chin as you had your arms wrapped around your legs. It had been three weeks since you left the bunker, and you felt empty inside.

Your mother sat beside you, a cup of tea and honey in her hand and a concerned look on her face. "Darling, you have to eat something. I know you haven't been feeling well, but you still need to stay healthy." You didn't respond to her as she set the cup of tea in your hands.

Everything felt numb. It was like you didn't feel any emotions at all. The world felt dull. Like all color had been stripped and it left you in darkness.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" She asked softly. Even though you had been with your parents for almost a month now, you had never fully discussed what happened with Dean.

"Mom, please-"

"No, Y/N." She put her foot down. "You call me one day, clearly upset saying that you and Jack were going to stay here for a while. You get here and you don't look like the daughter that I knew. You've changed."

You scoffed at your mother's words. "I'm getting a divorce, of course I've changed."

She sucked in a breath of air. "Y/N. What happened?" You gave your mother a brief rundown of what happened with you, Dean and Jack. "Oh, honey." She sympathized. "I am so sorry. You know that you and Jack are welcomed to stay as long as you like. I know your father is excited to have a grandchild."

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up to your mother. "What?"

"Jack, of course." She explained. "Look at them. Your dad's so happy. It's about time you give us a grandson."

"Lord knows you couldn't count on Chris for that." You rolled your eyes. "He can't keep a girl to save his life." Your smile began to fade slightly as your stomach did flips. Your mom noticed your green complexion and ran to grab a trash can. It was nearly too late as you felt your dinner from last night coming back up. She held your hair back as you did so, calling for your dad to get a wet washcloth.

You felt a cold cloth across your forehead, cooling your body. "Mom!" Jack said worriedly. "Are you okay?.

"She's okay, kiddo." Your dad assured him. "She's just not feeling too well." He mumbled skeptically.

You sat back against the couch, holding the rag to your head. "Jack," Your mom called. "Why don't you and I go make some cookies?"

Jack smiled at the idea, looking to you for approval. "You don't have to ask me, sweetheart. Go have fun."

You mother dipped down to whisper something unintelligible in your dad's ear before going to the kitchen.

"Y/N," He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Because I don't want it to be real." You muttered. "I don't want to think about the last thing that Dean said to me or the look on his face. I want to wake up and for this whole thing to be a dream. But I know it's not. I won't wake up next to him tomorrow and I don't get to tell him how much I love him." You chocked on a sob, covering you mouth with your hand so Jack wouldn't hear.

"Oh, my sweet girl." Your dad said softly, pulling you into his side. "I am so sorry, my darlin'." You rested your head on his shoulder as tears slipped down your cheeks. "That's not it, though. Is it? There's something else."

"Papa, I think I'm pregnant." You confessed. "I'm late and I've been sick all week."

"Have you taken a test yet?" He asked. You shook your head. "Okay, I'll tell you what. I'll go by the drug store and get a couple of tests, just to be sure, and I'll grab you some food on the way home. How does that sound?"

"Great." You said with a small smile. He kissed the top of your head before grabbing the keys and heading out of the house.

---

Five.

Five tests that had come back positive. Each one that you looked at made your heart sink more and more. "Oh god." You whimpered. "Damnit."

"What does it say, sweetie?" Your mother questioned from the other side of the door. You slowly opened it up and showed her the positive pregnancy test.

"Are they all positive?" You nodded.

"What am I gonna do?"

"I think you should call Dean-"

"No." You said firmly. "I'm not calling Dean. He made it very obvious that he didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"Y/N," Your mother spoke firmly. "I'm not justifying what Dean said or did in the moment, however, he was just as hurt as you were because you were leaving with Jack and you didn't know how long you would be gone. I really think you should call him. I think he would want to know you're pregnant with his baby."

You sighed at her words. You knew she had a point. She was your mother, she's always right. "What if he doesn't care?" You whispered. "What if he hears my voice and hands up on me?"

"Then that's his loss, honey." She cooed. "The least you can do is try."

---

MEANWHILE, AT THE BUNKER;

"Dean." Sam shook his brother. "Dean. C'mon dude, wake up."

Dean groaned as his eyes peeled open. "What?" He grumbled.

"You've been sleeping in here all night." Sam said, crossing his arms. "You should probably get some rest in your own bed, or at the very least, the couch. And charge your phone while you're at it, it's dead."

Dean stretched add he looked at the empty whiskey bottle set on the table and the picture of your wedding day beside it. It had been a rough few weeks since you had left. "You know I can't go sleep in that damn bed." He growled.

"Dean, I offered to switch rooms with you-"

"I don't want to switch rooms!" He snapped. "I want my wife back."

Sam frowned as he looked at his brother. He looked awful. He hasn't shaven in weeks, his hair's a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Why don't you call her, Dean?"

"Because, after what I said, she'll never take me back. I was too harsh on her. Plus my phone is broken."

"One, you have ten phones, and two, yeah, you were a complete ass." Sam agreed. "You should have seen her when she left here. I had never seen anyone so. . . Broken before. You know they sparkle she had in her eyes?" Dean nodded. "It was gone. Her entire face seemed dull, almost like she had aged ten years."

Dean put his head in his hands, feeling defeated. "What have I done?"

"I don't know, but you had better make it right."

---

"Still no answer?" Your father asked. You had called Dean three times now and still no answer.

"Nope. Not a sound."

"I'm sorry honey," Your mother sympathized, rubbing your back. It's that anything we can do?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "I need space. I need to spend more time with Jack before the baby comes. I just want to know what it's like to be a mother."

"Of course." Your dad agreed. "Take the keys to the cabin in Colorado. I know that's a lot of good memories there and no pesky neighbors to worry about "

"Thanks, dad." You smiled. "We'll be outta here soon."

"You don't have to leave in a rush, kiddo. You know that we love having you here."

"I know."

---

"Why are we going to your parents cabin in Colorado?" Jack asked curiously as he peered out the window.

"Uh," You bit your lip as you tried to come up with a suitable lie to tell Jack. You hated how much you were lying to Jack lately, but you knew that he wouldn't understand the things that you were going through. "I just wanted to show you the place and stay up there for a little while. It's nice and quiet, you'll love it. It's cold up there and it's snowy in the winter. I used to go sledding all the time when I was younger and then my parents would call me in for hot chocolate and a movie. We can do that together. How does that sound, Jack?"

"It sounds great, Mom!" He smiled goofily. Every time he called you 'Mom,' your heart melted. You loved that Jack felt so comfortable around you to call you his mother. You knew that you would never be able to replace Kelly, and you would never want to, but you did want to make him feel safe and loved. You wanted Jack to know what a mother's love feels like. Jack blamed himself for the death of his mother, and you understood his grief, but you had told him time and time again that it wasn't his fault. Kelly wanted to go through with the pregnancy and refused to listen to anyone else's opinions on the matter. You just wished he understood that.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, quickly wiping it away. "What's wrong, Mom?" Jack questioned. "Is it about Dean?"

You glanced over at Jack in surprise. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, Sam and Dean aren't here, and Dean hasn't called you to check up on you since we left. I know that whenever you go on a hunt by yourself, Dean calls you everyday to make sure you're okay."

You sighed heavily as you looked at the road in front of you. "Dean and I are. . . Going through a tough time right now. That's why I wanted to get away for a while. And I didn't want to go by myself, so that's why I wanted you to come with me."

"Are we ever going back to the bunker?"

"I don't know. . . It's a difficult situation, Jack. Right now, I don't think that I will be going back home anytime soon. But if you want to go back, I'll take you back. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do."

"I want to stay with you." He said firmly. "But I also want you to be happy. You don't look happy anymore. You don't smile or laugh the way you used to. You sit on the couch watching reruns of Friends, and I've heard you crying at night. Sometimes I think you forget that I don't sleep very much."

You said nothing in response, knowing that Jack was right. You wanted to call Dean one more time, but you knew it was fruitless. He wasn't going to answer. But you did have Sam. When you finally arrived at the cabin, you sent Jack to unpack while you dialed Sam's number. After three rings, he finally picked up.

"Hello, Y/N? Are you okay? How's Jack?" He asked in one breath.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm fine, and so is Jack. I just wanted to call and make sure that you haven't gotten killed by anything."

"Nope, we're still alive." He gave a small chuckle. "How are you, Y/N, really? Don't lie to me, because I know when you're lying."

"I miss him." You sniffed. "Being away from him hurts me." Your voice cracked, forcing you to clear your throat. "We've been married for five years. And I know that to the average person that doesn't seem like a long time, but we're hunters, Sam. You know how hard it is to stay in a relationship in our line of work. I've been in love with him for half my life, and now, for us to be in this situation, it sucks, Sam. I can't think of any other word to describe it. It really fucking sucks."

Sam was quiet for a moment as he listened to you cry. "I'm sorry this is happening, Y/N. I never thought that this would happen to you and Dean. But I've known Dean my whole life, and I've known you since we were twenty, so I think that I'm entitled to make a judgement on this." You let out a small laugh. "You two have been in love longer than you've been together, but both of you have been to dumb to realize it. You argue like cats and dogs because you're so certain about what you believe in. You're both so passionate about things that you never let up. And now that you're finally together, you have been so happy. Dean has never felt this way about anyone that he's been with, male or female. He loves you so much, Y/N, that it kills him. You have both come too far to for things to end like this. I'm going to tell you the exact same thing I told Dean; fix this."

"I want to, Sammy, I just don't know how."

"Stop hiding, for one. You can't fix something when you're hundreds of miles away." You groaned as you felt a wave of nausea was over you. "Y/N?" You quickly made your way to the bathroom. "Y/N? What's going on? Are you okay?"

You leaned against the wall once you were done throwing up. "Yeah, yeah, Sam, I'm okay."

"What was that about, then?" Sam questioned. When you didn't answer, he began putting the pieces together himself. "You're pregnant."

"SHH!" You hissed. "Don't say that!"

"Why not? Because you don't want Dean to know?" He spoke coldly.

"Sam, please, don't say anything."

"How long have you known, Y/N? And how long do you plan on keeping this from Dean?"

You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I've known for a couple of days, okay? And I don't know when or how I'm going to tell Dean. He made it very clear that he didn't want anything to do with me the last time we talked. Besides, I tried to call him and he didn't answer my calls, so don't try to pin me off as the bad guy here."

"When did you try to call him?" The hard edge in Sam's voice disappeared.

"Three days ago, when I found out I was pregnant."

You could hear Sam let out a small laugh. "Three days ago I came in the kitchen to find Dean passed out on the table, hung over as hell and holding on to the picture of your wedding day. And beside him was his broken phone. His main phone, which I'm assuming is the one that you called?"

"Yeah. . ." You said meekly.

"Hang up and call his second phone. Please, will you do that for me?"

"Yes," You nodded, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"I love you, Y/N/N."

"I love you too, Sammy." You sighed as you hung up the phone. You were terrified to call Dean. You hadn't spoken to him since that night all those weeks ago. You were still hurt, and you knew that Dean was hurting as well, and all you wanted was to hear his voice. You took a deep breath as you dialed his second phone number.

It rang five times before going to voicemail, making your heart sink. Not a minute later, the number called back. "Hello?"

"Y/N." Dean's voice said gruffly. "Sam told me you were going to call."

"Did. . . Did he tell you anything else?" You asked.

"Just that I needed to talk to you. What's going on?"

"I miss you," You confessed. You needed to tell Dean everything, and that included telling him how you felt. "I hate the way things ended between us, and I know that it wasn't solely on you or me. But I love you, Dean, and I will never stop loving you. And I know it's unfair I left and this is how I'm trying to get you back; over the phone. I would much rather be doing this in person. But I love you, Dean, and I always will. No matter what you say or do, I love you."

You could hear Dean struggling to breathe correctly. "Where are you?"

"My parents cabin, wh-"

"I'll be tomorrow morning." And with that, he hung up.

---

You paced back and forth in the living room, biting your nails. Dean didn't say what time he was going to be here, but he just said that he would be here in the morning. You had stayed up all night thinking about him. About the way his hair fell into his face after a shower, and how he always smelled like whiskey and firewood. The way his eyes would crinkle at the edges whenever he laughed, really laughed. But your favorite thing was when you had just finished a hunt, and you would go to lie down in bed, Dean would pull you close to him and whisper how much he loves you.

A sharp knock at the door snapped you out of your trance. "Who is it, Mom?" Jack asked, peering around the corner.

"Why don't you come see, kiddo." You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans before opening the door to reveal Sam and Dean. "Hi," You smiled. Sam was the first to come inside and hug you. He grinned as he pulled away, ruffling your hair.

"Why don't I take Jack into town for a little bit while you guys work this out?" He suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. Jack, go put on your shoes, you're going into town with Sam for a little while." Jack beamed at your works, hurriedly putting his shoes on a following Sam out the door.

"Hi," You said once more after Sam and Jack were gone. Dean didn't say a word as he hugged you tightly. You melted into his touch, feeling comfort in his embrace. The familiar smell of whiskey and firewood filled your nostrils. You closed your eyes to savor this moment. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

taglist:

@vicariouslythruspn @mimaria420 @fofisstilinski @daphnen21 @katwed @anunstablefangirl @desimarie12 @alderpine @rebeccaitsnotwhatyouthink @akshi8278

Also, yes, there will be a part 3

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #Sam Winchester #jack kline imagine #Jack Kline #jack imagine #supernatural #Supernatual #Supernatural angst #supernatural imagine #supernatural fluff #supernatural x reader

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whelvenwings · 3 years

Photo

who will fall beside you, if you fall

Dean Winchester's been loved in a lot of different ways throughout his life. He was shaped by that love, changed by the expectations and hopes and hurts of the people he cared about. He learned fear and silence and caution. But Castiel's confession, free of expectation, might undo those lessons.

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Endgame Castiel/Dean, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Lisa/Dean Snippet and Minor Cassie/Dean Snippet, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Fallen Angel Castiel Word Count: ~4k

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” Dean said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me.” The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

Read the whole thing below the cut!

Dean was three years old and not quite steady on his feet, still, when his father took him outside to help shovel the snow. In his coat and hat he was a little duffled-up sweetheart, to whom nothing particularly bad had ever happened.

Red-cheeked and grinning, he left small bootprints in the snow.

“Come over here, Dean.” John stood behind Dean and lowered the shovel down to Dean’s height, so that they could hold it and move the snow together. Dean pressed his lips together and frowned as he followed his father’s movements. John’s coat smelled like smoke and the outdoors. They moved one, two, three, four, five big shovel-fulls.

“That’s enough for one day,” said a voice from the porch – Mary, smiling down at the two of them. John carefully lifted the shovel out of Dean’s reach, standing up to his full height. They’d managed to clear just a short stretch of the path that led up to the house.

“But Mom, there’s loads more!” Dean said, pointing to the rest of the pathway.

“Your dad can clear that. You need to come in and have some lunch,” Mary said. “Come on.”

Dean looked up to his father with wide eyes, but John put his hand on the top of Dean’s head and ruffled it so that his hat almost came off.

“Listen to your mom, Dean. In you go.”

Dean’s eyes travelled from his father’s face to his mother’s.

“There’s your favourite for dessert,” Mary said, coaxing him with a little smile.

“Yes!”

Dean made a sudden break for it towards her, running down the path he’d just helped to clear. After the crunch-crunch-crunch of the snow, the cleared pathway was hard under Dean's feet. Hard, and unexpectedly slippery.

“Whoa, there,” said John, as Dean felt his balance go, his feet skidding out from under him – and suddenly he was being lifted, one hand on either side of him. John pulled him up out of the fall, and set him back down in thick snow.

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

“Next time,” John said, giving Dean a little push indoors, “I won’t catch you. You’ve got to learn, Dean.”

–––––

And now Dean was eleven years old and trailing after his father down a quiet midnight street, with a sleepy little brother in tow.

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

He’d pay for that question later somehow, and Dean knew it, but because he’d asked there was a new purpose in John’s step. They didn’t stop at the liquor store that Dean knew John had been weighing going into. Walking past it, Dean felt a little break of relief in his chest. They’d get out of the cold sooner, and Sam could get to bed.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, keeping walking. Sam was wearing Dean’s coat, swimming in it, the hood pulled up and the elastic tight so only the round circle of his face was visible. It was nearly funny, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the humour was shaved off everything.

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.” Dean cast a glance forwards at his father’s back. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay. Just a little bit longer.”

Sam made a miserable face. Their breaths were puffs of air between them. Underfoot was the hiss and crunch of melting, slushy snow.

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

“It’s late, Sammy. We’ll have something in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

“Okay.” Dean cast another worried look towards his father, and then made a meaningful face at Sam when he looked back around. “I’ll find something. I think we have some of that apple juice left over.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said, but he’d quietened his voice, too. “And a drink.”

“You didn’t know?” Dean said, making sure his face was completely straight.

“Know what?”

“That’s the best part,” Dean said. “Cold drinks make you warm up faster.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean cursed internally. Every day Sam got a little smarter and a little harder to keep happy.

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

“It is,” Dean promised. “You’ll see.” He thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Maybe we can heat up the apple juice."

“Keep up, boys,” said John’s voice, from too far away. Dean realised he must have slowed down as he’d talked to Sam, even though he’d been trying to hold a steady pace. He reached for Sam’s hand, turning his head at the same time to call back to his father – and as he did so, he felt his balance betray him. His feet slipped in the slush, and in a rush he was a jumble of elbows and knees hitting the ground in all the wrong places.

For a second he sat still, assessing the damage. Nothing broken.

“Are you okay?” Sam said, the dish of his face looking pale and worried above Dean.

“I’m fine… ugh.”

“Get up,” John called, and when Dean turned his head to look, he saw that his father was turning away to keep walking. Dean scrambled to his feet, hands out for balance. His hip ached – he’d landed on it.

“I’m alright,” Dean said to Sam, pulling on a smile. “Let’s go.”

He hurried after John, making sure Sam was beside him, going as fast as he dared until they were right behind their father. His knee was starting to throb, too, and he kept it off his face carefully, because Sam was still glancing up at him.

“Saw you reach for your brother when you were falling,” John grunted. “Don’t do that. If you two’re on your own and both of you go down, you’re both dead. If Sam’s still up, he can go for help.”

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

“Don’t do it,” John repeated, more forcefully.

They walked on in silence.

––––-

And now Dean was twenty-one years old and stepping out into the brisk air of a winter evening, with his head a little light from the drinks he’d had in the bar at his back.

“Come on,” Cassie said from beside him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You can tell me.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this,” Dean said, as they began to make their way down the street, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

Dean glanced over at her smile, and thought about the way the shifter he’d taken out earlier that day had looked at him, right before he’d swung the blade through her neck. He swallowed hard.

“I might,” he said, and held his arms a little out from his body. “How long can I contain this much raw aggression, you know?”

“Stop," Cassie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, okay, just tell me what your job is.”

“Is it really worth your life?” Dean asked, putting on his most serious face.

“You’re really trying to tell me you’re, what – a spy? A fed?” Cassie asked. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to believe that. With that face?”

“Hey,” Dean said, mock-offended, as they passed closed-up stores and parking bays. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, “that’s literally the problem. The FBI don’t hire people who look like you, do they? This is real life, not HBO.”

“Okay,” Dean said, his face working not to look too pleased. Underfoot, the pavement was shiny with ice. Dean started to walk a little slower. “So, if this isn’t the face of a fed, what is it the face of?”

“Mmm. Radio show host?” Cassie laughed when Dean threw her a look. “Well, c’mon, how am I supposed to know? Third date and you still won’t tell me?”

“Just trying to keep the mystery alive,” Dean said, faking an absent kind of tone in the hope that Cassie would drop the subject. The sidewalk was getting more and more treacherous, each of his steps sliding just a little.

“The mystery is too alive,” Cassie said. “It could die a bit. I’d be okay with that.”

“Whoa… careful.” Dean’s foot slipped out from under him, and he only managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto a parking meter that happened to be close by.

“Easy, big shot.” Cassie watched him start to move again, even more tentatively. “Wouldn’t wanna lose the deal with HBO if you fall on that perfect face.”

There was an edge of hurt to her tone of voice, and Dean jaw tightened. Was he ever going to tell her, he wondered. Surely not. She’d hate it. Spending time with Cassie was like visiting a parallel universe. That world didn’t have room for monsters under the bed.

And so Dean kicked them back underneath as hard as he could, and smiled at Cassie, and held out his hand.

Cassie looked down at it, and then back up at him.

“Really?” she said, a smile waiting at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s slippery,” Dean said, and wiggled his fingers temptingly.

“Yeah,” Cassie said with a laugh, pushing his hand away, “it is, asshole. That’s why I’m not letting you take me down with you.”

––––-

And now Dean was thirty-one years old and watching a soccer game, gloves on, hat on, clapping along with the dark-haired woman next to him.

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

“Like we practised, okay, kid?” Dean added, and watched Ben’s face relax into concentration as he placed the ball for his free kick, just a yard outside the penalty box.

“You practised free kicks with him?” Lisa said to Dean, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. Dean glanced down at her; she had her eyes on her son, but there was a little smile on her face.

“A couple times,” Dean said. “He asked.”

“That’s sweet. And I thought you two just watched TV and ate too much pizza together.”

“We do that too,” Dean said. “When I have a say in it.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. On either side of Lisa and Dean, also at the edge of the soccer pitch, were other parents all waiting on Ben to take his kick. They were standing on wet grass, a few of them stamping their feet to keep them from going numb.

Ben took a short run up, swung his leg, made contact. The ball sailed high, dipped – and the goalie caught it neatly.

“Next time,” Dean called out when Ben’s face fell, and gave him a clap. The game played on.

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

Lisa looked up at him, her big brown eyes soft.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“... Right.” Dean smiled awkwardly. Lisa’s would-be compliment hung in the air, sounding more incongruous the longer Dean stood tense and unmoving.

Lisa reached out, and put her hand on his folded arms.

“You wanna order in, tonight?” she said lightly. “Or I could make fajitas.”

“I can cook,” Dean said. “I’ll make burgers.”

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

Some small burst of relief, there. Dean’s expression eased. He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his chin, as though remembering the role he was playing. Who he was, now.

He shifted his feet – and felt his right foot slide, almost right out from under him. He steadied himself, hands out to the sides, looking down at the grass.

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

“Come here,” Lisa said, holding out her hand.

Dean smiled.

“It’s all good,” he said, reaching out and giving the hand a squeeze, and then letting go quickly.

“Can’t have the head chef breaking his arm,” Lisa said, her hand still out.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

Her expression allowed no argument. Unwillingly, Dean allowed her to loop their arms together, Lisa pinning Dean to her side and turning back to the game, calling out to support Ben as he went for a tackle. Dean stood quietly. He was having to lean down ever so slightly so that Lisa could keep his arm tucked under hers.

He tried very hard not to move. Just the smallest slide of his feet and he’d be over and he’d take her with him. Every muscle in his legs was clenched, forcing himself not to slip.

After just a minute or so of stiff silence, Lisa sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

And now Dean was forty-one years old and walking down a street in Lebanon, Kansas, on legs that still felt a little new. The cold air was harsh; he took in a deep breath.

He went to cross the road, and a car gave a screech as it swerved suddenly to avoid him. The driver made a few different gestures at him through the window, and Dean held up a hand in apology.

It was easy to forget that things didn’t part and make way on Earth like they had done in Heaven.

“Couldn’t fix that for me, could you?” Dean said aloud. “Not that I’m not grateful for the ticket home, Cas, but Heaven had its perks.”

Silence. Dean kept walking, with only the slightest slump to his shoulders and crease on his brow. Lebanon was wearing snow like a big white coat. Dean’s boots crunched in it when he stepped off the gritted path to let a mother with a stroller go by.

“I should probably stop expecting to see you round every corner, huh,” he said. “Been a week now. And I keep wandering around thinking you might show up just ‘cause I’m looking.” Someone passing gave him a slightly frightened look and a wide berth as he walked by, talking to himself. Just another thing no one had much noticed in Heaven: the prayers. Dean frowned, and ducked his head. Tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked quietly for some time.

Long enough for his hands to come back out of his pockets, and his shoulders to lose their self-conscious hunch. Long enough for the hurt in his eyes to seem nearer the surface.

“Might not even have been you that got me out of Heaven,” Dean said, his tone quiet, as though picking up the thread of a half-finished conversation.

A pause, in which he walked. Passed by other people, made no eye contact. Dean meandered a little as he went, as though his mind were elsewhere.

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” he said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me,” he said. The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

He swallowed.

“It feels like I have to do something, though.”

He kept walking.

“Or, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to.”

He breathed out.

Emotions were crossing his face, too fast to catch one alone, too swift to parse. He looked down at his feet, watching where he stepped.

“If I had what I wanted,” he said, “you’d be here.” After a pause, he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s news to you. Like, wow, right? Not as though I’ve ever asked, after all.” Another silence, and then he said, “But you know, I – it’s not that I just want to… fix it, or… finish things off. It’s not… I’m not…” He pressed his lips together, smiled wryly. “Jesus. I hope you can’t hear this. I’m not making any sense. I’m just trying to say, I want you here, man. I want you here to stay.”

A little flicker of light seemed to touch Dean’s eyes.

“You could stay now,” he said, “right? You could actually stay. If you wanted to. And we could…” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

A car drove by, and the child in the backseat stared out the window at him. Dean blinked back to reality.

“We didn’t have time to think about what we wanted,” he said into the quiet of the parking lot, when the car had passed and he was walking again. “All this time. Or maybe you did. But I didn’t.” He looked upwards, towards the iron sky. “And now there’s time, Cas, and all I’m thinking about is you.” He looked down. “I said that already.”

He moved on, stepping out the other side of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“I remember you said that the… the thing you want, you can’t have.” Dean took in a breath and let it go. “I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t. Whatever it is, man, you deserve it.”

His feet carried him onward.

“You gotta be sick of hearing me talk at this point. But I just…” Dean’s eyes glanced over the snowy Lebanon street in front of him, and he crossed the road. “I just want you here. Maybe I should take a damn hint.” His voice strained, hurt betraying the attempt at levity in his tone. “But you said… I keep thinking back on what you said. About how you feel. And I, uh. You know. If you’d just let me…”

Dean lifted his hands, a little helplessly, into the air as he walked, as though wanting to give something invisible to someone who wasn’t there. He dropped them awkwardly, his expression creasing.

He was circling back around towards the mall, his footsteps pointing him towards home. He looked heavy, weary. The lines on his face were deep, and his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

The people around him paid him no attention. He was just part of the crowd. They swirled across his path and around him, irrelevant to him, not seeing him. Except –

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

Twenty feet away from him, standing completely still, was a figure. Not struggling with carrier bags or strollers or wallets and keys like the other shoppers going into and out of the mall. Utterly stone still.

Tall, almost as tall as Dean. Wearing a long coat. Brown-haired. Impassive.

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

And Dean visibly blossomed. His mouth fell slightly open, his shoulders loosened, one hand reached out unconsciously.

“Cas?” he said, disbelieving – and Dean saw a slight smile appear on Castiel’s face, and the angel slightly raised one hand in greeting.

Warmth touched Dean’s eyes, rising up as though from a great depth. He began to move, at first taking care on the slippery sidewalk. But his feet hurried him, and he was walking fast and then he was almost running, caution forgotten, eyes on Castiel’s.

It was when he was only a few steps away that his foot hit a patch of black ice. His arms went out, struggling to balance him – Castiel moved forward, one hand out – Dean reached for him on instinct, grasping his arm, his body relaxing in obvious expectation of Castiel being able to pull him upright –

But Castiel’s weight tilted along with Dean’s, and the ground gave them both a hard and cold welcome. There were some muttered ooohs from people passing by, and a few of them came to awkward stops nearby.

Dean landed hard on his back, head hitting the cement. He stared for a moment up at the sky. It had all happened very fast.

He sat up, and saw Castiel kneeling beside him, inspecting his own hands.

“Fuck,” Dean said. He put a hand to the back of his head. No blood.

“Are you okay?” said someone behind Dean, and he waved them off.

“All good,” he said, seeing in his peripheral vision that the people who’d stopped to look were moving on. He looked at Castiel. “Are you… you’re…”

Castiel stopped staring down at his hands, and looked at Dean instead. His blue eyes searched Dean’s face. Under his gaze, Dean smiled – a smile that grew on his face from a tiny brightness in his eyes until his whole face was alight with it.

“It’s you,” he said. "Damn, Cas, it's really you."

“It’s me,” Castiel confirmed. His voice held a recognition of Dean’s smile, a reciprocal warmth.

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded. He was breathing a little fast. His gaze searched Castiel’s face, partly seeming to be looking for something, partly seeming already to have found it. People were stepping around them to get inside the mall.

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

“But you know,” Dean added, “you could’ve just appeared right next to me instead of a whole freaking mile away on a slippery sidewalk. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Ah.” Castiel, still on his knees beside where Dean was sitting, dropped his gaze. “That was, in fact, not under my control. Jack sent me down here. After I asked him to do something for me.”

Castiel looked down at his hands again, and this time Dean looked too. His expression broke into slight surprise when he saw red on Castiel’s palms, at the sight of the blood – and then the surprise came in a second, deeper wave, as realisation hit.

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

“But you – you’re – that’s not supposed to happen,” Dean said. He reached out, and took Castiel’s hands in his own, inspecting the little scrapes on the skin. “You can’t get hurt like this.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

“But you’re…” Dean stared at Castiel, seeming suddenly caught in consternation.

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

Wide-eyed, still sitting on the sidewalk, Dean took this in. Something light crossed his face, then anger, then confusion.

“I heard you,” Castiel reminded him. Dean stared at him.

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

Despite the hustle of people around them, the crunch-crunch of their boots in the snow and the harshness of their voices, Dean and Castiel might have been the only two people in the world when Castiel said,

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, but – before, in the bunker, with the Empty, when you said – the thing – the thing you said you wanted –”

Castiel looked down at their hands. Dean’s holding Castiel’s.

Dean tightened his grip.

“Just that?” he said, his voice sounding thick.

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

They stared at each other. Hands in hands, touching, Castiel bleeding. Dean didn’t let go.

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

“You mean…” Castiel’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You mean that you…”

“Since pretty much day one. I just never thought you’d want that from me.”

The world moved past and around them. They didn’t notice. Castiel was radiating happiness in every body line, though he was unmoving. Dean was watching him as though afraid he might disappear in the space of a blink.

"Is this real?" he said. "My head hurts enough for it to be real."

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

After enough time under the steadiness of Castiel’s gaze, it seemed finally to sink in for Dean – the truth of it, the reality of it. Dean breathed out.

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he gave a nod made small by emotion.

“Oh. I’m sorry, though,” Dean said, his eyes catching on Castiel’s small injuries now that he was looking down again. His thumb lightly touched the place where blood was drying on Castiel’s palm. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have run at you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, getting to his feet and pulling Dean up with him, their hands not letting go.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said, his blood on Dean’s hands, and still holding them. “Don’t be.”

#whelvenwingsfic #destiel #destiel fic #WELL HERE SHE IS #I'll reblog in a sec with the ao3 link because tumblr hates external links #also thank you so much to sammich for beta reading this ah #also if anyone's asking if i intend to be extra #and keep making banners for even little fics that i post #the answer is YES FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE #because what is more calming than photoshop and a podcast

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rainbow-shine · 3 years

Text

the odyssey of labels, pins and acceptance

@spnprideweek's day 1: coming out/flags

Here’s the thing.

Dean didn’t exactly come out to anyone. And that wasn’t his fault, not entirely at least. After all, he spent much of his life denying the existence of that part of himself, that by the time he could finally begin to accept that what he felt wasn’t as bad as his father always wanted him to believe, well, it no longer seemed necessary to go through an experience that was aimed mainly at teenagers.

Also, Dean didn't need a label to know that he was totally and utterly in love with a man. Dean had accepted his feelings for Cas, at least on a subconscious level, long before he even began to come to terms with his sexuality.

Besides, all the people he cared about knew to some degree that he wasn’t straight (being married to an angel in a man's body hardly left any room for doubt) and he finally felt comfortable in his own skin, without having to prove anything to anyone and without having a script to follow. He had finally gotten off the hamster wheel and something as insignificant as having to label himself wasn’t going to ruin his much-deserved happiness, thank you very much.

Or so he thought until he saw those stupid pins.

Cas had texted him in the middle of his shift at the workshop complaining that he needed more seeds from a flower that grew specifically during this time of year and Dean who since their relationship began after a very epic interdimensional rescue was simply unable to deny his angel anything, ended up making a quick stop at the store after work.

And that's when he saw them.

In any other circumstance Dean probably wouldn’t have noticed them, but considering that it was june and apparently this month was important for the LGTB community, next to the checkout there were a series of pins representing the flags of the different sexual orientations. Dean watched them for a second, wondering which flag would be the one for him before forcing himself out of stupor, paying for the seeds that Cas needed and practically running towards the store's exit.

What did it matter which flag would be the one for him? It's not like at some point he has even bothered to think of a label that he feels comfortable with. Furthermore, he was no longer a teenager discovering the world for the first time and taking pride in sharing with the world who he really was. His chance for that had already passed.

But had he really pass it? Dean remembers a vague conversation he overheard of Claire and Jody about how there wasn't an age to try to figure out who you are and that it was okay to even spend years trying.

Dean had always known that he was attracted to women, with their soft curves and charming smiles. But he also had to admit that on more than one occasion he had been curious about men with strong arms, a stubble brushing against his face and a deep voice.

(Though now that he thought about it, his current thoughts regarding his attraction to men may have been biased because of Cas.)

By the time Dean arrived at the small house he shared with Cas and occasionally with Jack (the fact that your son was god is more or less as if he was studying abroad and only came home for the holidays), the subject had completely ruined his good mood and he knew he had to do something about it before Cas looked at him with his bright blue eyes full of concern and started asking questions that Dean still had no answers for.

"Here are the seeds," was the first thing Dean said when he entered the house and found Cas sitting on the couch, fully focused on a book. With an involuntary smile curving his lips, Dean approached his husband and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead in greeting, his previous thoughts almost completely forgotten.

“Did you have a good day?” Cas asked, giving him a soft smile and tilting his head slightly in a clear invitation that Dean didn't even bother to resist, connecting their lips in a brief kiss.

"Yeah" Dean replied, kissing his husband a second time to erase the frown of concern that had taken over Cas' expression at his unconvincing response before heading up to the bathroom to take a shower and start making dinner.

Following his routine helped Dean ignore his little crisis in the store and by the time he was playfully hitting Cas with the spoon to stop his husband from stealing more pieces of cheese that were meant to melt above the pasta, the subject had been all but forgotten.

But see, Cas wasn’t only his husband, he was also his best friend and probably the person who knew him best in the whole wide world, so when they were both laying in bed, preparing to sleep until their respective alarms woke them up, Dean must have expected that the subject would resurface.

"Are you okay, Dean?" Cas asked, sounding so genuinely concerned that Dean couldn't help but lean in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. When the kiss ended, Dean spent a few seconds trying to organize his thoughts so that he could answer honestly.

"It's stupid," he decided to say, if he couldn't pretend he was okay, he would at least try to get them to ignore the subject.

"Nothing you can say is stupid," Cas murmured, placing a series of quick kisses on his face. Then, with an amused smile taking over his lips, he added: “Well, except when you say that western movies are actually good”.

“They are!”

"Whatever you say, dear".

Knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to look at Cas in the face as he made this stupid confession, Dean pulled his husband's body more firmly against him before hiding his face in the curve of Cas’ neck, breathing in the soothing scent of cotton and sunshine that was just Cas to calm down.

"I think…" Dean began, clearing his throat to force his voice to formulate the words. He had absolutely no idea why this was so difficult for him. “I think I’m bisexual".

Now, Dean had expected many reactions from Cas: from the typical "duh" as it was obvious that Dean had to be something other than straight to be in a relationship with a man, to an overwhelming and emotional reaction like the ones that he had seen on TV, or even an indifferent or confused reaction.

Dean hadn't expected this.

Cas held him tighter for a few seconds before slightly pulling away from him, cradling his face in his hands and gazing at him with the deepest adoration anyone could ever feel. Cas gave him a soft smile before leaning in to capture his lips in a tender kiss with which he seemed to want to convey all his love for him.

"Thank you," Cas said, surprising Dean even more. “Thank you for trusting me with this part of you”.

And that was it.

Dean felt like a weight that he didn’t even know he was carrying was lifted from his back and, although he would deny it to the grave, he felt his eyes water at the sudden wave of love he felt for the man in his arms.

The next time he was in the store, Dean didn't even hesitate before buying the pin of the pink, purple and blue striped flag.

#spnprideweek #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #supernatural #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn fic #my writing #rambleoncas #userstarry #this is my first fic and i don't really know what i'm doing asdfghhjl

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insaneasgardian · 3 years

Text

Haircut Of Love - Sambucky

Summary: Confessions are made, and lives are changed the day Sam gives Bucky a haircut.

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: Bucky being slightly sad while thinking of Steve, Bucky thinking that his feelings for Sam are unrequited (they're not), Idiots in love.

A/N: I have actually worked on this for longer than I should've XD A big thank you to @cassiecasyl and @aixabi for being such great friends and helping me out by proofreading, and making suggestions!

He knew he should've stopped Bucky tagging along, but the moment that infamous, "I'm coming with you!" so eagerly left the super soldier's lips, Sam knew it was pointless to persuade him to stay behind.

Not that he really minded, the mission he'd been assigned with was a tough one, and it would've been lonely if Bucky hadn't been so adamant about accompanying him.

Sam stared into the fireplace and focused on the embers as he let his thoughts wander. There were some terrible people to be stuck with in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, but Bucky certainly wasn't one of them. He was an interesting character for sure, and Sam was sure he still didn't know a whole lot about him, but their relationship had developed all the way from 'a couple of guys' to 'almost best friends'.

"Hey", came the voice of the man Sam had so deeply been thinking of. He turned around with that signature smirk he reserved especially for Bucky, and watched with delight as the White Wolf turned a light pink color, and it wasn't because of the cold.

"I thought you might want to catch a shower, the water's nice and warm" the brunette said, and Sam nodded as he noticed his friend's damp hair from his own shower.

"Man, you need a haircut" Sam remarked, and much to his pleasure elicited a chuckle from Bucky.

"Do I?"

"It has gotten kind of longer..."

"Well, it's not easy to find a hairdresser in the forest"

"I could cut it for you"

The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself, and he didn't miss the way Bucky's widened ever so slightly. Sam internally scolded himself, feeling that he'd made things awkward somehow.

There was a slight pause in the atmosphere, but the ex Winter-Soldier eventually smiled. It was a weak smile, but genuine nonetheless.

"I'd like that," he told his friend, "would you mind?".

Sam shook his head, a bit too enthusiastically, and that made Bucky raise his eyebrows

“I can do it now if you want, so I don’t get your greasy ass hair all over me after I’ve gotten out of the shower”, Sam casually slipped in to look less ecstatic than he really was.

Bucky scoffed and crossed his arms at the statement, but his grin only grew wider.

“So… are you gonna give me something to cut your hair with?” his friend asked him, making a scissor snipping motion with his fingers.

The brunette’s lips tugged downwards into a frown and bit his lip as he often did when pondering. Sam couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the bottom lip in between those pearly white teeth, but he forced himself to snap out of it.

After a brief moment, Bucky snapped the fingers on his vibranium arm and turned to walk towards the room he was staying in. “Wait there!”, he had instructed Sam, who had no intention of getting up from the comfortable position he was in anyway.

Promptly, Bucky had returned, clutching a pair of scissors that Sam immediately identified as a pair of Captain America themed kiddie scissors he had recently bought for his nephew, AJ. He burst out cackling.

“What’s so funny Samuel?” the White Wolf pouted, plopping next to his friend who was dying of laughter.

“You stole that from AJ didn’t you?” Sam pried, inwardly dancing at the thought that his secret crush would want something with his face on it.

“Psh, no… I permanently borrowed it, that’s all”, Bucky insisted, moving from the couch to sit on the floor in front of Sam’s legs so that the other man would be able to cut his hair with more ease.

“Mhm”, Sam hummed, already weaving a piece of Bucky’s hair between his fingers, and snipping it off, just like that. It seemed easy enough, so he kept on going, chopping bits of hair here and there, trimming the areas which really needed it, and taking care not to overdo the cut and end up making Bucky look bald in certain places. He was doing quite well considering that he was equipped with nothing but a pair of small, blunt kiddie scissors, which Sam was certain professional hairdressers did not use

A lovely period of pure silence fell in between the two men. The only sounds were the scissors delicately doing their job of cutting the brown locks, accompanied by the gentle crackle of the fireplace, creating a relaxing atmosphere.

“Steve used to cut my hair, you know… Used to do it all the time in the 40’s” Bucky said, breaking the silence. Sam froze in his movements, but only for a second. It was rare for this man, who had been through so much to talk about his past like this.

“We’d sit outside on the street in the summer, he’d be on a chair with his scissors and I’d sit down in front of him, punk gave a damn good haircut to be honest”, he continued, and Sam chuckled.

“People would give us dirty looks as they walked by, it wasn’t uncommon for people to think Steve and I were a couple, but it was frowned upon to be in a same-sex relationship back then… sometimes still is of course”, his tone was now sad, as if he wanted to admit something, but was refraining from doing so. Sam stopped what he was doing, and set down the scissors, obviously sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Still, Steve and I were just friends, that’s all he’d ever wanted to be anyway”, Bucky finally finished.

Sam got off the couch, and slipped down onto the floor next to the 107 year old. “And what about you? Did you ever want to be more than friends?”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, which donned a neutral expression, “It’s complicated Sam… I’d be into a girl one second and thinking about Steve the next”.

Sam gently nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own, and gave him a small smile, “Bisexual then?”, he questioned.

The other man nodded, and looked at Sam with a grin now gracing his features, “Yea, but you know what? I forgot all about Steve…” he paused to dart his tongue out his mouth and wet his lips, “The day I met another guy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about”.

Sam’s world shattered the moment those words left Bucky’s lips. The thought that the man he had pined after for so long was yearning for another made him want to burst into tears right there. However, Sam Wilson was not the kind of man to be salty over the choices of others. So he kept on the smile he had been wearing the entire time his heart broke over and over again. Yet, he had been so absorbed in his own mind that he failed to notice the longing glances Bucky was shooting at him, the ones he had been giving Sam ever since he first met him.

“Happy you could get that sorted out for you man!” He said brightly, patting Bucky’s back and climbing back onto the couch to resume the haircut.

The ex winter soldier was dumbfounded. Had Sam not noticed how he felt? What if he had? What if he didn’t appreciate the advances?

There was stillness once more, but this time it was incredibly awkward. The two sat absorbed in the silence, no longer so focused on their own thoughts, but on every movement and action the other did.

“All done,” Sam finally said, and gestured towards the large wall mirror in the living room. Bucky looked into it, and nodded.

“You’ve done a nice job, thanks”, he mumbled.

“No problem” Sam told him, getting up from the couch. “I’m going to go take a shower now”, and with that, he rose and climbed the stairs to get to the bathroom. The footsteps faded away and when Bucky heard the bathroom lock click shut, he leaned his back against the couch with a sigh. He ran a tired hand over his face.

What had he done wrong? He’d watched all the movies, read all the books and listened to all the music Sam had suggested. He’d come to see Sam’s family as his own, he cherished Sarah, AJ and Cas with all his heart.

Hell, he’d even taken dating advice from Zemo…. Maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong.

Bucky wasn’t sure. He may have lost the charm he had back in the 40’s, but Sam had always accepted him for who he was. He never questioned Bucky’s past, or forced him to be more social and open. That’s the reason Bucky developed more than platonic feelings towards him. He was so easy to be around.

However, the white wolf figured that if Sam didn’t want anything to do with him romantically, the least he could do was to maintain the relationship status they had now. Not to mention, he had the perfect way to do that.

Mac and cheese. Sam’s favorite food.

A grin grew on his face as he scrambled to the kitchen. It was a tasty and easy thing to cook and would be done before Sam even got out of the shower. Bucky proceeded to locate all the necessary ingredients they had brought to the cabin, and got straight to work.

It wasn’t a difficult job at all. With his swift speed, and his mind set only on the task before him, he was done within minutes. He even managed to get two servings plated beautifully, and just in time too, because as he finished setting the table, Sam descended the stairs and made his way into the kitchen. A smile was drawn on his face at the smell of the meal, and all the previous tension seemed to have dissipated.

“Smells good in here!” he exclaimed, his eyes then landed on the beautifully presented plates of mac and cheese. He gasped and clapped his hands like an excited child, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He thought it was adorable.

“Alright, alright, take a seat Sammy,” Bucky said, gesturing to the bar stools next to the kitchen island which the food rested on.

Both of them rushed to sit down and dig into their dinner. Bucky watched his friends expression as he took the first bite of his food.

Sam’s eyes closed in pure bliss, as his taste buds thanked him. “Buck, this is heaven in my mouth, tastes even better than what Sarah makes”.

Bucky blushed, but quickly tried to hide it with a chuckle, “Sarah’s my teacher, I owe it to her”.

Sam nodded at the statement, but commented no more on the topic. Instead, he took another bite and made eye contact with Bucky. “So… who’s this guy you’ve been crushing on?” he inquired.

Bucky was taken aback by the question, he blinked rapidly, “huh?” he mumbled, earning an eye roll from Sam.

“Listen man, I’ve never pressured you to tell me anything before, but we can’t pretend like that conversation didn’t happen” Sam said gently, setting his cutlery down, and reaching a hand over to place it on Bucky’s vibranium one.

The brunette gulped, closed his eyes, and took two deep breaths. He’d have to get it out. Or else it would slowly kill him to watch Sam find someone else. Even if his feelings were unrequited, the man had a right to know.

“It’s you” he said quietly before he could chicken out.

Sam slowly blinked, and shook his head, “Sorry, repeat that?”.

Bucky groaned and looked up from his plate which he’d been staring at the entire time. He gazed into Sam’s doe brown eyes with his own piercing blue ones, “It’s you! You’re the guy I’ve been crushing on!” he agitatedly replied.

Once more, there was that silence that seemed to be consuming the two of them so much lately. Bucky wanted to cry, to hide the humiliation. He was certain that Sam’s lack of words meant he didn’t feel the same, because Sam always had something to say.

“Forget it,” Bucky choked out, getting up from his seat, but Sam’s hand tightened its grip on his wrist, stopping him from getting away. The super soldier turned around slowly, trying not to make eye contact with Sam so that he wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, Sam rose from his seat and his lips met Bucky’s in what was a tender, loving kiss which shocked the latter, but he readily returned it. They stayed like that for a while, embracing each other as their arms snaked their way around each other's torsos. It was a moment neither of them wanted to break, but were forced to. Eventually, when they pulled apart gasping for air, they looked at each other in surprise, but merriment. Wide beams adorned both of their gorgeous faces, and their eyes glinted with excitement.

“So…” Bucky began, “you were desperate to get a piece of me, why, is it the new hair?” he said teasingly.

“The next time I give you a haircut, it’s gonna be turned into a mullet”, Sam threatened, making the other man raise his hands in surrender.

The mac and cheese was long forgotten as they clutched each other once again. Their hearts were bubbling and overflowing with love for one another, and it was not a love that was going to fizzle and die out. They fit perfectly in each other’s arms, like it’s where they belonged.

Two men, who had their own individual problems denying them a place to be truly content in the world, had finally found their refuge in each other.

Finit

#sambucky #sambucky fluff #tfatws #tfatws fanfiction #tfatws fluff #bucky x sam #sam x bucky #marvel #mcu #tfatws sambucky #sam x bucky fluff #bucky x sam fluff #insaneasgardian #haircut of love #haircut of love insaneasgardian #sambucky fics #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fluffy fanfiction

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theheartchoice · 3 years

Text

post-15.19 coda | dean/cas | dean + sam | 1.3k | ao3

"We're all set here."

Dean hums as Sam brushes his hands together in his periphery. He didn't even realise they were so close to finishing the set up.

"Now it's just a matter of timing."

Timing. Cas had the worst timing. Saying something like that at a time like that, leaving Dean with more questions than answers.

"Dean?"

"..Huh?"

"You okay? You spaced-out, for a minute there."

"Yeah, I'm just—" he waves a hand around, trying and failing to capture what he's feeling.

"Look, about Jack," Sam steps closer, voice dipping to a tone that means sympathy and support, the kind that gets a work out on a case. "I know things with you two have always been kind of complicated, and I can imagine that him not bringing Cas back has only made things harder—"

"—Woah, Sam. No. I get it—really. He's hands off, y'know? Probably for the best. Meddling was Chuck's problem, it's how everything got so screwed up in the first place." Not that he's palming all his mistakes off on bad writing, but still. Jack not intervening is a good thing, in a way.

"Yeah, I guess. Makes you wonder if he might not condone what we're doing here, you know?"

Dean hums again. "But you'd think if he let anyone have one more get-out-of-jail-free card it'd be Cas. Who knows, maybe Jack's rootin' for us."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam chuckles. "Don't worry. It's gonna work."

That's sort of what Dean's worried about.

"You seem nervous."

Maybe Sam could help.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I just—" how does he even phrase it? "When Cas was—I mean, before he saved me, he.. said some stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Big stuff. Deathbed confession, type-stuff."

"Confession? What did he—" and realisation dawns on Sam, because of-fucking-course it does. "Oh."

No use hiding it now. "Yeah, 'oh'."

"So. He finally told you."

Wait what? "What d'you mean finally?"

"Dean." And there's so much in just that one word. "Cas has been in love with you for.. well, I don't know how long, exactly. A while, I think. Years."

Dean's lungs empty in a rush. "Okay, see, that's the thing: he's an Angel, Sam."

"Yeah, I kinda picked up on that."

Dean sends him a bitch face but Sam just smiles. "Tha—it's a human emotion. Angels don'—they can't feel that way." Right?

"Serafina did."

"Pretty sure she and Adam from the freakin' Garden of Eden knew each other for more than a few years. More like eons."

"Since when does time determine love?" Sam gets a look Dean remembers from when he'd talk about the past, about Jess. Probably not something he wants to bring up right now, seeing as how Eileen's right outside.

"Cas is my best friend, but he's literally older than the world."

"So it's an age-thing?"

"Wh—? No!" Dean takes a deep breath, to steady himself, steady his train of thought. "I know Cas is an Angel, okay? I mean, there's the mojo, and the not-sleeping, and he saw the first fish crawl outta the ocean—the whole nine. That's not what's botherin' me." Sam waits patiently. "I know he cares. I just don't know if.." If he feels the same way I do. "If he really feels the way he thinks he does. About me, about love, an'.." Dean swallows. "Love."

For all his tact in handling witnesses during a case (people who're at their most vulnerable), Sam fucking snickers.

Dean glares daggers; half-hurt, half not surprised because isn't that how little brothers are supposed to act? They laugh at their sibling's relationship troubles? But Sam gets it, because his face softens.

"Dean. Maybe Angels do feel things differently from Humans. In fact, it's pretty much guaranteed. But Cas has always been different from the rest of them. And I've been here over the years, you know. I've seen it."

"Seen what?"

"The way he looks at you. And I never thought it was some big secret, I mean—you saw it too! And you looked at him the same way."

"Did not!" Sam gives him that: c'mon Dean you can't fool me here face, and he let's it go. Sam's probably not wrong.

"What did you say? After he told you."

"I.." Nothing. He told Cas—begged him not to do it that way—but everything was happening so fast, and there was a decade's worth of doubt stopping Cas' words—those three huge words—from sinking in. Even after, as everything finally hit him and he curled up on the dungeon floor and cried his freakin' eyes out, even then, even now, he still doesn't know what he would've said if he had the moment again. "There was no time."

Sam nods. "Well, now there is. You guys can talk—"

"—What if I'm right?" Sam's brow crinkles at that. "I mean, no offence Sam, but I know him better than you do. What if.. what Cas feels, is.." he trails off, unable to get the words out.

"..Are you worried he's not in love with you, or that he is?"

One sounds better than the other. Both sound kinda terrifying.

Sam sighs, and it's almost pitiful.

"I don't wanna lose him." As a friend, most of all. Because if Cas misunderstood the whole love-confession thing being for non-brotherly love then Dean won't say anything, obviously, but it'll hurt. Cas will be back but things will be different—worse actually, because that whole thing with The Empty made him confront his own feelings (or stop suppressing them, at least). Cas isn't just a friend to him, and it's not familial either. But can they go back to being 'just friends' after everything? Can Dean?

"Dean, no matter what happens you're not going to lose him. Just look at everything the two of you have already been through."

Now there's a distracting and somewhat depressing train of thought. Apocalyptic times can't tear them apart, not for good, and even death is nothing new. It would be a painful joke of cosmic proportions if the thing that actually ruins their friendship is love.

"Do you love him?" Dean's head snaps up to meet Sam's eyes. "Are you in love with Cas?"

Eileen returns before he can think of a way to deflect, cutting off anymore talk about it.

She gestures to Sam and he tells Dean, "It's time. You ready?"

Dean's not sure what he would've said but the truth is best kept for Cas' ears anyway. And Sam's right. They have time. They can talk, and hopefully they'll figure things out and where they stand with as little heartache as possible. There's no avoiding it, not now, not after everything. He nods, steeling his resolve. "Yeah. I'm ready."

At least he knows Chuck is no longer pulling their strings and that whatever happens from here on out it really is just him and Cas. The thought never even crossed his mind that Cas' confession might be Chuck's doing. Chuck didn't care enough about him to bother, and besides: Cas was always the rebel against God's story.

Dean steps over the threshold of painted sigils, taking his place in the centre of the circle. As Sam starts chanting he feels his worry over the truth of Cas' words ebb away and hope flow in to supplant it. The phantom scar of a handprint on his shoulder from when Cas rescued from Hell seems to flare to life and brand itself back into Dean's flesh, and the only thing going through his mind is: what if Cas really is in love with me? He smiles at the thought.

As the glowing portal tears into existence before him he remembers something else Cas said to him, back when Dean was questioning his whole reality. Cas was steadfast and sincere as ever as he held Dean's eye and told him that they were real. And for the first time Dean knows that to be true. He feels it in his very soul.

With his hand raised he moves towards the portal and braces for some kind of inter-dimensional shift, but he's not scared. This is the right thing to do, for both of them.

Time to grip an Angel tight and raise him from perdition.

#spn 15x19 #coda 15x19 #destiel ficlet #s15 spec #profoundnet #myficlets #s15 codas

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