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#I saw no shovel

The first one was wing au yeah, but the second fic was the og au (basically the canon timeline)— probably should’ve mentioned that whoops

5 notes

i’ll have y'all know that i currently have no fucking clue wtf is going on with the apparent new ✨Lore✨ nor do i have any immediate plans to watch the newest mumbo episode

however

i will be nothing but disappointed when this plot point inevitably (emphasis on inevitably) has nothing to do with the button whatsoever /hj

12 notes

It isn’t that he likes going out at ass o’clock in the morning to shovel… but staying in one place, not hunting, retirement–there’s an itching that nudges at him until he wakes. Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s shoulder and stumbles into the open kitchen to start some coffee. Takes out the overnight cinnamon rolls and lets them rest on the counter. Pulls on his boots and hat and gloves.

Apparently, he doesn’t know how to be on vacation.

There’s barely anything to pick up, and the more it goes, the colder it is, so Dean does just enough to stop himself from shaking out of his own skin and heads back inside. He turns the TV on low and pours coffee in a mug. Milk. A little bit of sugar. Puts the rolls in the preheated oven. Heads to the bedroom coffee in hand.

A hunter friend of a friend of Donna’s owns this place, and they have the keys for two weeks. It’s in the middle of nowhere in the Cascades, up a bunch of logging roads and buried deep in the forest. All windows and comfy furniture and a huge fireplace, and complete with a wraparound balcony to show off the view of the mountains. The kind of place that only has wifi because the owner paid through the nose to get it. 

It’s nice. Real nice.

Dean steps into the master bedroom and grins at the picture Cas makes: curled into himself on Dean’s side of the bed, doing that soft, wheezing-snore thing he does when he’s totally out. His socked feet poke out from underneath the comforter. 

What a little angel.

Dean grins.

He sits on the edge of the bed, sipping at the mug before putting it down on the nightstand. When he leans down to press a kiss to Cas’s mouth his lips are chilled, but Cas hums instead of shivering. “Hey, Sunshine,” Dean teases. “We’re burnin’ daylight.”

Cas groans. Shakes his head. Stretches and resettles and grumps, “no.”

God, Dean loves him.

“Cas,” he murmurs, kissing him more thoroughly. Cas kisses back half-heartedly, humming and sighing and waking slowly, slowly–

Dean flops on top of him.

Cas grunts.

Dean shoves a cold hand under his shirt.

Cas almost jumps out of his friggin’ skin.

The sound he makes is something resembling a strangled yell, and Dean can’t stop himself from laughing. Not when Cas shoves him off and tackles him, not when he’s being straddled and shoved into a pillow, not when Cas glares at him with wild hair and drool on his cheek. 

“Why.” His voice is low and rough and utterly betrayed. 

Dean smirks. “You love me,” he needles.

“You’re a brat,” Cas grouses. He squints, and then like the goddamn weirdo he is, leans in and bites Dean’s shoulder. He rolls towards his coffee and hunches over it with a faint, “mmph.”

Dean plasters himself to Cas’s back and rubs at his chest–small circles, over his t-shirt. Cas sighs. 

“Yeah,” Dean teases, pressing kisses along his shoulder and neck. “You love me.”

Cas takes a sip of his coffee and leans back. He rolls his eyes.

He smiles.

1K notes

I HAD A 10 SEC OF A BREAKDOWN WHEN I SAW THE “JENSEN ACKLES JUST POSTED A VIDEO NOTIFICATION” FOR THOSE 10 SECONDS MY HEART WAS LIKE A RUNING WILD HORSE THINKING THAT MAYBE THAT VIDEO WAS THE FOOTAGE FROM 15X18 SO HELP ME GOD.

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2 notes