#RIGHT NOW RIGHT HERE CAS IS TALLER THAN DEAN

[cheynovak]

Forest Green Eyes - PART 4 

Castiel & Y/N Winchester  

Warnings:  SMUT – 16+ …  

Side note: English isn’t my first language.  

Words:  1794

This story takes place after the SPN finally. Jack asked Castiel to go back to earth to be the guardian angel of Y/N. Cas accepts this task but only to discover that Y/N is the biological child of Dean.  

 

Part 5 Now online

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And like a magnet your face turned towards him. Looking in each other eyes once more grinning. 

All you could think of was kissing those angelic lips again. But that was the beers you had earlier talking right...  Right? 

--

The drive home was quiet. The windows were down, and the hot summer breeze landed on her skin. Y/N and Cas had just offered to drop Tom and Anna of at their home since they were clearly not able to drive anymore. The entire ride Anna kept looking at these pictures. “You guys are ok with me posting them on insta?” When they were home save, it was just the two of you.  

Castiel started to think about the kiss. He wanted to talk but didn’t know where to begin.  

"Music?” Y/N asked leading Castiel out of his thoughts?  

 

* Eric Clapton – Wonderful tonight started playing*  

Both Y/N and Castiel sat there listening to the words. Y/N didn’t want to make anything more awkward by changing the channel. Would be too obvious she thought. She looked over at Cas, he clearly had no problem with the music.  

Little did she know that the angel did his best not to look at her, afraid to give his feelings away and make her uncomfortable.  

Once home Y/N removed her jacket and walked towards the kitchen. “You want something?” 

He didn’t answer but followed her, trying to find to courage to talk about what happened.  “Y/N... We need to talk.”  

“Yeah, what’s up?” Trying to sound normal, not looking at him. Afraid of what he would say.  

“About tonight, you know, the eh ... kiss.” He asked with his heart beating out of his chest.  

A moment passed as she tried to find an answer. I can’t tell him what I felt tonight, it is so wrong! He probably still sees me as some little kid.  

“Oh that. Well, that was a means to an end. I thought you wouldn’t mind. The guy clearly got the message without breaking bottles or bones.” She said slowly turning to Castiel. 

 

Castiel’s heart dropped, it felt like the world came down on him. Y/N noticed the way he started to walk backwards looking at the ground. “Cas?”  

He cleared his voice “Yes, well, that was what I thought.” He said with a smile like he had a toothache. “I, eh, I,  I'm going to my room. It was a long day. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Y/N let out a sigh, oh god what did I do. If someone deserves an honest answer it is Castiel.  

And he looked so hurt by my answer. He even went to his room. The man didn’t need sleep, so it had been weeks maybe months that he stayed the night in there. He usually would read a book in the main rooms, watched a movie or prepared food for Y/N. He even reorganized the entire archives from the man of letters.  

Castiel is laying down on his bed. Listening to some music he borrowed from Y/N. Trying his best to reset his feelings. Back to normal Castiel, you are here for a purpose, a job. Even though he still had no idea why or what he was supposed to do.  

Looking after a kid was easy, a teen more challenging but he managed. Y/N is a woman now, who’ve read every book in this archive, who knows every story. A woman who is incredibly smart and kind, a little stubborn and grumpy, maybe even a little temperamental. Who acts first and thinks later.  

And oh, so beautiful, her full lips, high cheekbones, dark blond/light brown hair, and her big green eyes... And taller than the average women he met.  

But he was sure there were more people like that.  

There can only be one reason that Jack was so interested in this kid. She had to be family in his eyes.  

He heard a soft knock on the door. “Cas? Are you ok?” 

 The angel opened the door slightly, just enough so he could stand in the doorway.  

Y/N stood closer to the door than he expected. She was already in her sleeping shirt and underwear.  “Hi.” She said while her lip curled slightly, clearly not knowing how to react. “Hey” He answered while letting out a breath.  

- “Cas, I’m sorry.” 

“What?” 

- “I couldn’t sleep and kept thinking it isn’t fair to lie to you, to lie to myself.”  

Is she saying what I think she is? “What?” he repeated.  

Y/N looked at the floor. ”I think, I love you Castiel.”  

Castiel lifted a hand under her chin.” Look at me Y/N... Please.” So she did.  

 

The second Y/N’s eyes locked in those ocean blue eyes she felt her whole body move forward.  

Castiel placed his hands on her face accepting her, accepting her kiss, pulling her in. This kiss was long and passioned. Y/N’s hands caressing his shoulder and torso. Castiel walked back leading Y/N into the room. Y/N started to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt while her lips moved from his lips towards his neck without losing their touch.  

 

Castiel moved his hand from her face down, over her arms, stroking the side of her breast. Y/N felt a shiver down her spine that made her moan a little under her breath.  

As she pushes his shirt of his shoulders, he grabbed her wrists and pulls back so he can look at her.  “Y/N wait... Are you sure? I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to or regret when you’re sober.”  

“Castiel, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I want all of you.” She said while softly kissing his neck going over his chest moving down.  

“I want you.” Softly scratching his nipple with her teeth. 

“ The question is.” Kissing his hips. 

“Do you want me Cas?” Licking a stripe between his navel and pants. 

Castiel closed his eyes “Yes, you have no idea.” The second Y/N undid his belt, the angel felt a fire in his gut. He lifted Y/N up without a warning and pushing her against the wall. Y/N’s legs are around his waist. You knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him by the bump growing in his paints and the moans he let out while his lips were all over you.  

He dropped her for a second just to remove Y/N’s shirt and look at her bare breast. His eyes were darkened with lust.  

Y/N pushed Cas to the end of the bed, he gracefully sat down while she sat down on his lap facing him. Even though he seemed self-assured his eyes looked for permission every step of the way. 

He took her left breast in one hand while he takes her right nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking.  

This movement made her moan his name while she desperately grinds her hips on him for more friction.  He loved how she moaned his name, this made the fire in him burn brighter. Made him want to satisfy her more and more.  

Castiel turned around, taking Y/N with him so that she is now laying on her back in bed. Slowly crawling up to the pillow. But Castiel didn’t follow, he had other plans. He licked and kissed her ankles than her legs, thighs, hips. Y/N’s head falls back when he took her panties of slowly started to caress her clit. “Please Cas, I need you.”  

“What do you need?” He asked with a husky voice. Y/N sat up “You, inside me.” She said while stroking his now very hard and visible dick. “I don’t want to wait Cas. Please”  

Castiel took off his pants and underwear. As he hovered over Y/N he asked, “Are you sure, I though humans wanted, more foreplay.”  

“Next time” She sight. “Castiel I’m burning up. I need to feel all of you.”  

He moved his dick against her, coating it with her juice before slowly entering her. “So wet, so tight.” He moaned.  

Y/N felt her hole stretched inch by inch. The angel watched Y/N’s expression and waited a little before he started to slowly move his hips. “More...” She moaned. Castiel frowned not entirely understanding what she needed. “I’m not going to break Cas, don’t hold back. Fuck me harder.” 

 Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing him deeper, while Castiel placed his arms next to her head and started to hard yet passionately thrust. He could feel her squeeze when he hit a specific spot inside her. “Oh, YES Castiel, right there!”  

Y/N felt every inch of Castiel, he was so big that every trust hit that one spot inside that made her scream and moan like a mad woman. She quickly noticed that Castiel loved the way she reacts, so she didn’t hold back. While he started to move faster and harder, she started to feel the heat boiling inside her. It wouldn’t take long before she would snap. “Don’t stop, please Cas, don’t stop, I'm so close!” Just a couple more thrusts and Castiel could feel Y/N wrapping tighter around him, it made him groan. “I can feel it Y/N, come for me.” His trust started to get sloppy, the way he felt you squeezing made him fight not to come before you. “Let me make you feel good.” Groaned out of breath.  

Those last words pushed Y/N over the edge. Castiel managed to hold back just enough to look at you. “Where do you want me...” He was so close he couldn't finish that question. “I said I want ALL off you Cas.” Not 5 seconds later Castiel came inside her. After he came down from his high, he kissed her lips. “Wait here.” Before she could say anything, he was gone and returned with a washcloth. “Hm, great sex and aftercare.” Y/N joked.  

“Well, I asked you to let me take care of you.” He grinned. 

Castiel pulled the cover over them while Y/N snuggled by his side. “This is going to change things, isn’t it?” He asked. “Well, I hope so, more of this. More of... Us” She answered drawing circles on his chest.  

“Us, sounds good.” He said. Minutes later Y/N felt asleep while Castiel kept listening to the music that was still playing in the background.   

---

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

#fanfic #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x y/n #castiel x you #dean winchester #fluff #supernatural #spn #spnedit #smut #spn smut #castiel smut

[magdaclaire]

based off of this post by @deanbroco, i give you

the ‘cas smells nice’ drabble

have 500 words or so of nonsense

posted for @horseshoecrabguy

Oftentimes, Dean says things without thinking too much about what's coming out of his mouth. When his dad was still around, he thought a little bit more about it, too weary of getting the back of his father's hand to let anything come out unbidden. Sam, though, Sam's safe. That's his little brother. They're sitting next to each other in the front seat of the impala when he says something he can't quick take back.

"Cas smells nice, right?"

The speed at which Sam turns his head to look at Dean is almost comically slow. He watches as his brother, originally looking somewhat to the right and away from Dean, tilts his head to the side in almost the way Cas does, his eyebrows coming together. Dean sometimes forgets how much his brother and his angel pick up from each other, that they hang out together almost as much as they hang out with him. Sam's nose is wrinkled as his eyes come down (which, unspeakably rude to be a little brother now taller than an older brother, but Dean has to come to terms with it at some point) to look at Dean with eyes squinted as if Dean is a particularly strange specimen beneath his brother's microscope. Dean swallows.

"He, like, smells like ozone, you know? That space smell. It's cool." He doesn't talk about the unfairly human musk that Cas has to him, the way he smells like a recently doused campfire whenever he uses that holy, divine power for killing, the way he smells green healing. He doesn't say that he likes all the things Cas smells like. The ozone thing, it is cool. It's cool that his best friend has been to space, thinks of the stars like a second home he's told Dean about, one that feels more like home than Heaven, but his third home, the place he shares with Dean, that's-

It's too much to think about. To be the home of a celestial body. To hold him in his arms and think that that could be enough. It's too fucking much.

"Dean-"

"What, Sammy?"

"Nothing, nothing. No, I have never thought about how Cas smells before. Happy?" Sam asks, little smirk that makes Dean wanna swat him pulling at the edge of his mouth. Dean puts his gaze back to the road.

"Well, not really, but we'll settle around here, won't we?" he says wryly. Sam blows a breath through his nose.

"Dean, you- you know you don't have to, right?" he says, and Dean looks at him again just to make sure he's alright. He's got that look to him he gets when he's worried about Dean, like Dean hasn't been worried enough for both of them their whole life. Dean only wishes he knew why. It's not like he said anything bad, right?

"Don't have to what, Sammy?" Sam sighs, steeling himself.

"Settle. You can, you can have what you want. You know that, right?"

"I've got everything I need, Sammy. You and me, the impala, Jack, Cas. I'm okay," he says. Sam looks at him like he's missing the point. Dean chooses to ignore it.

#destiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #i didn't have it in me to write a full thing #but have this #mine #child abuse mention #horseshoecrabguy i have had this in my drafts for months and completely forgot about it so thank you

[huggybearsunshine]

Always Yours

[Saw a tweet prompt but didn’t save it 😭- might’ve been a Bob Wess- but it led to this short, little thing here.]

Cas just stood there, waiting for Dean to exhale before he dared make a move, but once he heard the shaky breath leave his lungs, the words that followed seemed to still him even more firmly in place.

“So,” Dean looked him up and down with a firm eye, “We doing this or not?”

“What?” Cas didn’t consciously choose the word but it fell free regardless.

“You and me,” Dean pinned the Angel with a heavy gaze, stepping forward just a bit more as if scared of going further, “We doing this or not?”

“Did I miss something?” Sam asked, closer to the door of the dungeon than the other two.

“A lot,” Dean threw over his shoulder, “Shut up.”

“You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying,” Cas tilted his head in disbelief.

“Why not?” Dean grunted back as his brows furrowed together.

“You don’t… feel that way” his eyes cut toward Sam before returning again.

“Wait…” Sam looked as though a puzzle piece had just fallen into place in his mind, eyes darting back and forth between the back of Dean’s head and the unmoving Angel ahead of him.

“Sammy, I swear to god,” Dean’s jaw pinched.

“Dean, you don’t… right?” Cas’ eyes practically begged for his returned attention.

He was met with a steadying breath before his wish was fulfilled and green eyes fell upon him again.

“Of course I do,” Dean looked almost impatient as he pushed forward and gripped harshly to the back of Cas’ neck, “You’re so stupid.”

He tugged him into an embrace and his hands shook on the Angel’s shoulder blades as they clung.

Cas’ eyes practically melted closed, while his hands slowly crawled up to hug him back, Sam just staring slack-jawed and speechless from the short distance away.

“Sammy,” Dean backed up again after a brief indulgence.

“Uh, y-yeah,” he answered awkwardly.

“Get lost for a bit,” he never even looked over his shoulder as his brother nodded and gratefully took his leave.

“I don’t understand,” Cas’ chin shivered minutely, “Did you just call me stupid?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed under his breath, “Yeah, I did.”

“And you love me?” the other half of Cas’ revelation caused a rasp to overtake his voice.

“Yeah,” Dean’s hand shook at his side, “That okay?”

“Dean,” the word had a soft reverence, and once again, he was reaching for him again as if his limbs didn’t know how to stop.

Warm and calloused hands gripped Cas’ face on either side and a sob worked its way up from deep within the Angel’s chest as their lips met.

It felt like coming home more than coming home had, and Cas never wanted to feel anything else.

He didn’t even notice the tears running down his cheeks, too overwhelmed by every other sensation around him, but when Dean’s lips parted from his and their foreheads met, he noticed Dean’s.

He reached up and swiped a thumb across the hunter’s cheek, resting the hand atop his wrist after, and was met with a wet chuckle from the man holding him.

“Please stop trying to leave me,” Dean’s grip tightened, “Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not going to let you.”

“I won’t,” Cas found himself whispering as his free hand ran through the taller man’s hair, “I won’t, I promise. Never again.”

“Seriously, man,” Dean furthered, “I can’t do it again.”

“I know, I’m sorry…” he continued his whispered assurances, “I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Dean couldn’t seem to get close enough, wrapping his arms firmly around Cas and pulling him flush against him.

His lips found his hair line and pressed there as the tears continued seemingly unnoticed.

“You’re here,” he buried his face further, “You’re here.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas’ own arms clung back.

“You‘re mine,” Dean’s fingers shook against his shoulders again, if they ever stopped, “You’re mine.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas nodded against him, “Always yours.”

——————

@destiel-wings @destieliscanon5nov

#short ficlet #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #sam is a third wheel #castiel x dean #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #spn #supernatural #castiel is saved

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e1 i think i'm gonna like it here (w. jeremy carver)

can only use it sparingly but i do love a good shot gone slowly tilted to show things being Off (twilight new moon had a good one, when edward dumped bella in the woods). i think when it hits the right spot for me, it gives me that emotional physical vertigo

when i was watching s2e13 houses of the holy, instead of dumping my brain output here i was to a person and said this

nic 03/29/2023 10:41 AM his reaction to sam saying he does pray, it was like the world shifted beneath his feet and i felt tilted along with it and why does this show keep doing this to me

s2e13 houses of the holy (w. sera gamble, d. kim manners)

and going back to watch this scene even before he says it, i feel a little unbalanced because of this weird perspective they're shooting. sam's up even taller than usual on the steps, we're looking way down at dean and way up at sam. and then up at them from way down at the ground level. anyway, as the seasons have progressed, they seem to generally be a little less creative in filming, but this sam's in a coma dream or whatever had a moment

(stalling. i was not in a great mindset last night and seeing sam in the hospital bed i couldn't deal and skipped watching for the night so)

suspension of disbelief shattered and i wanna yell NO fuck you we're not bringing religion into this conversation as the medical professional. i know it's like oh but the implications and layers of meaning for dean to hear this right now but i'm just like 🔪🔪🔪 i've been there with a fairly rapidly dying of cancer parent in the hospital. just. no.

DEAN You're a doctor. You're a medical professional. You're trying to tell me that my brother's life is in God's hands? What, is that supposed to be a – a comfort? DOCTOR Mr. Dougherty – DEAN No, God has nothing to do with this equation at all. DOCTOR I didn't mean – DEAN That's not good enough.

lol well for somewhat related and somewhat not related reasons, dean and i are on the same page apparently

DEAN Cas, are you there? Sammy's hurt. He's hurt, uh – he's hurt pretty bad. And, um... I know you think that I'm pissed at you, okay? But I don't care that the angels fell. So whatever you did or didn't do, it doesn't matter, okay? We'll work it out. Please, man, I need you here. DEAN Screw it. Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester... And I need your help.

think i know sorta where this is going. i did avoid more plot specific fics around this time period so i don't know much.

also contemplating when the angels fell did they all go into vessels? with consent?

HAEL Then you've heard them – our brothers and sisters, many still circling for vessels, most just… so afraid.

thanks for clarifying, show

dean in line to get murdered by grumpy angels because he was so desperate he put out an open call and cas is gonna go roadtripping with the pretty angel lady to the grand canyon. priorities!

this ezekial dude saying still believes the mission, cas and dean. what's the mission, what could anyone even believe in castiel for at this point?

oh what a surprise, pretty angel lady possibly has ulterior motives!

we're all just trusting randos left and right

DEAN You know what's in that house! Now, I can't help you if you ain't willing to fight for yourself! SAM I know. It's okay. It's what I want.

again with the suicidal moments. i felt extremely guilty and responsible for the person i lost to suicide, a friend told me something that i've since tried to accept. that i couldn't want that person to live more than they did. we're just hitting all sorts of buttons tonight.

saw julian richings in the credits, completely didn't expect death to show up as sam's reaper. and the cabin with the fire and everything got me all choked up.

DEAN From the inside. So, what, you gonna open him up? What, possession? You want to possess Sam? EZEKIEL I told you. DEAN No way. EZEKIEL Understood. It's your call. DEAN No, it's Sam's call. There's no way in hell he'd say yes to being possessed by anything. EZEKIEL He would rather die. EZEKIEL I'll leave you two alone, then. EZEKIEL heads for the door. DEAN Wait.

i at least appreciate that they acknowledged that it's sam's call. but it wouldn't be supernatural if one of the brothers didn't do something extremely ill advised to save/keep the other

(reminds me of another awful thing at the end of s4 magicians where julia needed a decision made about her body but was comatose and they let her boyfriend from another timeline choose. and it wasn't what she would have chosen)

SAM If I go with you... can you promise that this time it will be final? That if I'm dead, I stay dead. Nobody can reverse it, nobody can deal it away... and nobody else can get hurt because of me. DEATH I can promise that.

more weight on the scale for dean to feel like he has no other choice. why is sam in such a hurry to die? isn't that usually dean's job. i don't like it.

DEAN Even if I said yes, it doesn't mean squat. Sam will never say yes – not to you. EZEKIEL But he would say yes to you.

why does that sound like the beginning of something bad

DEAN Sam, listen to me. I made you a promise in that church. You and me, come whatever. Well, hell, if this ain't whatever... But you got to let me in, man. You got to let me help. There ain't no me if there ain't no you.

dean, that's not a good argument. true it may be, that's a lot to put on sam. rereading the church thing, i'm not sure how it was a promise. more a statement of fact. always sam first, we'll figure out the rest like always

from s8e23 sacrifice SAM What happens when you've decided I can't be trusted again? I mean, who are you gonna turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another -- another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just – DEAN Hold on, hold on! You seriously think that? Because none of it -- none of it -- is true. Listen, man, I know we've had our disagreements, okay? Hell, I know I've said some junk that set you back on your heels. But, Sammy...come on. I killed Benny to save you. I'm willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches that killed mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever! I need you to see that. I'm begging you.

all right so was that even dean saying that, then? i can't be taking schmoopy quotes out of context if it was just an angel saying crap that sam wanted to hear to get a yes lol

oh jesus fucking christ. so we're gonna lie/hide that dean tricked him into saying yes to an angel. how long is this gonna play out 😩

DEAN Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Sam's well enough that he doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or I find a way to tell him. I - I… As for him being in a hospital, I'll have to figure something out.

EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY I can erase it all, if you like. He will not remember any of this.

for fuck's sake. sure! wipe his memory! make it inevitably a million times worse when he finds out!! not like he has a history of shit fucking up his brain or anything! stupid fucking manufactured conflict plot bullshit. I DON'T LIKE IT.

cut straight to castiel stripping down in the laundromat and candy with a design department that clearly had some fun creating fake labels

i'm always glad to see that fucking trench coat out of commission :p

DEAN Oh, I mean, I stopped, you know, let a few Japanese tourists take some pictures. Nobody got too handsy. I knew you'd pull through. I meant what I said at the church. You're capable of anything, Sam, and hell if you didn't prove me right. SAM Good. 'Cause we got work to do.

feeling guilty yet, dean? looks like it. after you stabbed jewel staite you were binge drinking and falling apart because of the lying to sam part. sure this'll be smooth sailing though

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 9x01 #spn 2x13 #spn 8x23 #sam and dean mush

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Suptober 27 Oct.: Liar

"Sam, he's not waking up." Dean looked over and saw the terror dawning in Sam's face too.

deancas, established relationship au

"You want him, you can have him," Dean sneered. "Do it, fucking cowards. I'm certainly not going to stand in your way."

The demons glanced at each other uneasily. Good, Dean thought, you should be scared.

"That goddamn angel has betrayed me I don't know how many times now." Dean choked out a harsh laugh. "He's not worth much to me dead but even less to me alive." He felt the blade of the demon knife tucked in his waistband bite into the small of his back and let it bolster him. "You wanna kill him right now? He's injured – you know it as well as I do. This whole forest stinks of his blood. Let's go find him together."

His smile, he knew, was cold as a corpse and too wide, showing off his canine teeth too well – he was one of them, a predator to his marrow.

The taller demon stepped nearer. A twig snapped beneath his foot, like a bone cracking. It was better than a whistle: Sam wound out from behind the giant oak, striking fast as a snake. The holy water sizzled in the first demon's eyes, then the second's; Dean sunk in the blade and ripped it clean away twice in fast succession, and the bodies twitched and sparkled like unleashed roman candles as they fell heavily to the earth.

"Gross," Sam said, wiping a spray of blood off his cheek.

Dean took a second to be grateful at how little interest Sam seemed to take in the blood otherwise. 

He patted down the wider demon's vest and came up empty, shaking his head in frustration. 

"Here," Sam said, reaching quickly into the other demon's pockets. "Yes, got it."

The vial of whatever the fuck antidote it was flew at Dean. He caught it and pushed off the ground, trusting Sam would catch up in no time, as he clambered down the tree rooted trail to the thatch of fallen maples. Cas was pale as the grave as Dean slid on his knees down beneath the maple with the most clearance, where Cas laid curled on his side, unconscious and unmoving in a pool of crimson, not all of which were leaves. 

Dean put a palm to the side of Cas's throat. "Cas, buddy, you gotta wake up now."

Sam crawled under the tree and knelt up by Cas's head. "Let's sit him up."

They maneuvered him mostly into a sitting position, and Sam braced Cas's jaw as Dean uncorked the vial and tipped in the potion. 

"C'mon, c'mon," Dean muttered, his whole body about to shake apart suddenly, as it dawned on him this might not work. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. "Sam, he's not waking up." Dean looked over and saw the terror dawning in Sam's face too.

The giant wheezing breath Cas sucked in at that exact moment saved Dean's life.

Dean bent over and felt his heart kick in his chest like he'd been hit with lightning. "Hey, hey, hi." He patted Cas's chest and stared into his face until his eyes opened. "How ya doin', man?"

Cas squinted back. "I've been better."

"We believe it," Sam said as he pushed Cas a little further upright.

Cas coughed a few times and gingerly touched the low spot on his abdomen where the gouge had been, where his white shirt remained wet and stained. "Please tell Eileen thank you," he said, turning to speak directly to Sam. "I owe her for this one."

"Nah, she was happy to help." Sam looked at Dean and cleared his throat. "I'm, um. Gonna go call her, though, and let her know everything's fine." He stood up and ducked out onto the trail again.

Dean was about to speak when Cas said, slowly, "I heard you, when you were talking to the demons."

"Oh yeah?" Dean swallowed against the bile that had immediately risen at the back of his throat.

Cas nodded, his eyes on Dean as warm as sunlight. "You were a very convincing liar."

Dean grabbed his face between his hands and kissed his mouth softly. Less softly the second time. In his peripheral vision he saw Sam approach and wheel away again, and it didn't stop Dean from kissing Cas until Cas made a small pleased sound.

"Please stop getting stabbed trying to save me."

"All right," Cas said. "I promise."

Dean let him fib. He'd figure out a way to hold him to it later.

#suptober22 #deancas #destiel #spn #fic #snippetfic #suptober

[joyfulambush]

Some Slight Destiel BC We Deserve It

Context: Sam and Dean meet up with Cas for a case. 

As the brothers opened the door, Dean’s emerald eyes widened as he came face to face with his favorite angel. Castiel and the police officer he was talking to turned around. Dean couldn’t help but blush a little as their eyes locked together. Cas gave him a small, soft smile, before turning to the woman in uniform. 

The officer nodded respectfully to them. “Morning detectives.” 

“Morning.” Sam responded, nodding back. “I’m detective Hines, this is detective O'Donnell.” He said, gesturing to Dean. 

“Your partner told me you’d be coming.” She looked between the two of them, but one seemed distracted. Dean was eyeing the trenchcoat-less Cas like he was some sort of rare creature. “Everything alright, detective?” 

Dean snapped out of his trance and gave the woman a polite smile. “Perfectly fine. Now, Our partner here said you had something to show us.” 

“Yes, right this way.” The woman officer led the boys to the morgue, where a corpse of a man was waiting for them. Sam and the woman strolled up to the right side of the body, while Dean and Cas stayed to the left. “Here he is, Let me know if you have anything else.” She walks out the door, leaving the three of them with the body. 

Cas began his inspection of the corpse, but stopped as he felt a hand wrap around his waist. He sighed and continued his search, but became distracted when he reached lower. The angel turned to Dean, who seemed lost in thought and was staring into the void. “Dean.” 

“Hm?” He hummed, locking eyes with him. 

“I’m trying to work.” 

Dean finally realized what he was doing and retracted his hand. “Sorry.” He mumbled. 

Cas returned to the officer with more questions, while Sam and Dean watched from afar. The taller brother smiled as he watched as Dean furrowed his brow. He clenched his fist harder as he saw the female officer giggling and giving Cas the look. His poor angel seemed completely oblivious to the girl’s advances. Dean decided to step in. 

“Hey, babe.” Cas turned around to Dean’s lips connecting with his. The angel was taken back as his man wrapped his arm around his torso. Dean then looked at the woman, who was more than a little shocked. “We got everything we needed so we’ll be heading out.” His voice was so matter-of-factly, like he wasn’t just holding on to another man in the middle of the police station. This was so rare for Dean that Cas was left speechless. The blonde man took his brunet angel by the hand and led him out the door.  

"Dean, did I do something?" He asked once outside the station.

"No." Dean gripped Cas' hand tighter, pulling his angel closer to him.

"What's up?" Sam walked right behind them. "Could you be jealous?" He teased the moose.

"Damnit, Sam. Just, shut up." Dean unlocked his car as everyone piled in. Cas sat behind Dean, placing a hand of his over the other's shoulder. Dean said nothing, but placed his hand over Cas'. He drove them all back to the hotel with music playing in the background.

#yes im still mad #creative writing #dialogue prompt #dialogue snippet #writing #writing prompt #writing snippet #supernatural #spn #deancas #spnfamily #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #dean and cas #supernatural fanfiction #we deserve better #let the gays be happy #unhappy fangirl

[softboyscully]

IT IS MY FANFICTION AND I GET TO DECIDE WHO’S TALLER

#destiel #stucky #fanfiction #RIGHT NOW RIGHT HERE CAS IS TALLER THAN DEAN #IT'S THE A E S T H E T I C OKAY!! #supernatural #spn #marvel #captain america #captain america and the winchester solider #wait #wait thats not right #captain america and the winter solider #catw #steve #bucky #steve rodgers #bucky barnes #dean winchester #castiel #castiel angel of the lord #castiel angel of winchester

[marxandangels]

Dean hasn’t really slept for the last couple days. A half hour here and there, yeah, but not fucking enough. He got too old for this like five years ago and everything is feelin blurry at the edges. Cas healed up his bruised ribs, so he’s not in pain, but he’s so goddamn itchy. He wants to take a shower so bad, he kinda thinks he’ll start crying about it like a toddler. Snot and all. His clothes got soaked all the way through with muddy lake water and then dried to stiff and flaky with dirt. Every time he moves a cloud of dust crunches off of him. The sun set an hour ago but it’s still so hot and humid and Dean must have an inch of sweat on him. He doesn’t remember when he brushed his teeth last and his mouth tastes like old blood and smoke. He’d toddler cry for a toothbrush too.

Cas, on the other hand, is squeaky clean and… other adjectives, his hair and trench coat ruffling in the breeze. He’s got his hands in his pockets, staring off into the night. The moonlight waterfalls down his sharp profile and Dean wants—Nope. That’s the end of that sentence. But it is a sentence. Dean is blurry enough right now that it’s a sentence. Dean wants. He feels it achier than bruised ribs in his chest, itchier than the dirt and smoke and sweat and lake water on his skin. He lets himself feel all of it, all that want, and, shit, this isn’t just a toddler crying, it’s a whole tantrum.

Cas turns and the moonlight turns with him, cool and clean in the hot, dirty night. Dean stares at him and Cas stares back. They’re real good at looking at each other.

Wait. Something is different. Dean is an expert on the edges and lines of Cas’ body and something is different. “Are you taller? Am I fucking hallucinating? Are you taller?”

God fucking damn it, smug looks so good on Cas’ face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You weird little motherfucker, did you make yourself taller?”

Cas starts laughing and, god fucking damn it times two, laughter looks even better than smug on his face. And then Dean is laughing too, until they’re both wheezing for breath. He feels drunk on it, blurry and sleepy and hysterical.

Dean squeezes some words out between hoots of laughter. “Why the fuck did you make yourself taller? I didn’t even know you could do that.”

It takes Cas a minute to be able to answer, until laughter is still at the edges but not cutting his breath up. “I thought your reaction would be funny. I know you’re… sensitive about your height.”

“I’m not sensitive about my height!”

That sets Cas off laughing again and, after a second, Dean too. He’s a little sensitive about his height, sue him! His little brother’s been taller than him since he was seventeen! Dean scrabbles at his pockets, only finds his phone, and throws it at Cas. It whaps him in the chest and, still laughing, he catches it neatly before it falls to the ground. Dean, itchy and exhausted as he is, wants to live in this moment forever, laughing and bickering with Cas. Dean wants and maybe—Maybe.

#couldn’t get this out of my head lmao #spn #I made this

[thekingslover]

Months have passed since Cas came back from the Empty and saved Dean. Since one close call too many brought forward questions of the future for the Winchesters and their found family. Someone whispered, retirement, and the thought took hold.

Sam and Eileen settled enough to talk of marriage and family. They picked out a farmhouse at the edge of a small town. Sam showed Dean pictures of a matching one, across the street.

“For you and Cas,” Sam said.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean laughed, as Sam frowned and Cas turned his gaze down to the floor.

Sam moved out first. Dean bought the house across the street, but wasn’t in as big a hurry to leave the bunker. It had been their home for longer than anywhere; it was a good enough place.

Cas stayed too. Dean saw him at breakfast and dinner, and sometimes at lunch, if Cas came to the garage where Dean tuned and retuned the car. Keeping busy was important. Too many thoughts were the enemy.

Cas would sit beside him at the table, or on the couch, or on the cool concrete floor, back pressed up against the side of the Impala. They talked some, at first, about the weather, about Sam and Eileen, about breakfast and lunch and dinner. Soon Dean stopped trying. Cas tried a little longer.

Then there was silence and missed meals and excuses. Shuffling footsteps down a dimly lit hallway. A shadow under a bedroom door, but never any knock.

Until tonight.

“You haven’t even packed.”

Dean glances at the doorway, away from the monster-movie marathon on the television screen. The room was a bit hot earlier; he’d left the door open.

“I’m beginning to think that you don’t want to move,” Cas says. He’s traded in his ill-fitting suit and overcoat for a pair of equally ill-fitting button down pajamas and fuzzy gray slippers. “Maybe you didn’t want to retire.”

Dean looks back to the television, but it has commercials on now. No escape there. So he licks his lips, shoves down the growing dread, and asks, “You got a lead?”

“A... lead?”

“For a hunt.” Dean’s out of practice. He has been kind of enjoying the lazier life, without almost dying all the time, but he’d go back for Cas.

Cas stands taller, even as his face falls. “You do want to go back.”

“Don’t you?”

Cas looks him dead in the face. “No.”

Dean, startled, nearly falls off the bed. “No?” He scrambles to right himself, and then to fully stand. Then why are they having this conversation at all? Why aren’t things good enough as they are?

“No, Dean.” Bags hang heavy under Cas’s eyes. Dean moves closer for a better look. Cas has always been rumpled, but Dean can’t remember the last time he’d seen him look so... tired.

So human.

“Cas.” Dean’s dread crawls up his throat, choking his words so they come out tight and breathless. “What did you do?”

Cas won’t meet his gaze, guilty, and all Dean can do is try to brace himself for --

“I asked Jack to make me human.”

“What? Why?”

Cas shrinks in his pajamas, shoulders dipping, chin falling. The cuffs of his sleeves cover the meat of his hands. Only his fingertips are visible. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” Dean’s ready to call Jack down here right this second and reverse this. Why would he do this? Why would Cas ask him to? None of it made sense! “Tell me so we can fix this. Whatever it is.”

Cas makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and takes a tiny step backwards.

On reflex, Dean grabs him by the shoulders, thinking he might fall. Or leave. They haven’t talked. They should have been talking. “Tell me,” Dean says, still too gruff. He exhales, inhales, and tries again. “Talk to me.”

Cas looks up at Dean, and misery shines bright in those ocean blue eyes.

“I wanted to grow old...”

“Why would--?”

“With you.”

“You...” Dean, blindsided, falls quiet. Cas... He couldn’t mean... He wouldn’t give that up for... No one would... “Cas.”

“I should go.” Cas takes another step back. Dean, still holding his shoulders, fingers curled tighter now, moves with him.

Dean hasn’t forgotten Cas’s last words before the Empty stole him away, but he hasn’t given them much thought either. They hurt too much to stay with for long, like putting his hand on a red-hot kitchen burner.

But the words, the emotions, still found him in quiet moments when he could not escape them with distraction. I love you, coupled so closely with, Goodbye.

“Cas,” Dean says, desperate. He clings to Cas’s shoulders, bunching Cas’s pajamas in his fists. “Cas, please.” He wants, but he doesn’t deserve. Everyone he’s ever cared about gets hurt. Everyone he’s ever loved leaves him.

Cas’s puppy-eyed sadness slowly tilts into confusion. Then, in the span somewhere between two heartbeats and eternity, that too smooths away into understanding.

Dean could never hide anything from Cas. Or maybe Cas is the only one patient enough to take the time, by choice, to figure him out.

Cas reaches up and places his warm hands over Dean’s bare forearms. He stands tall again, lifting his chin. A small smile curves his lips, a secret little thing that grows and grows, as he says, “I want to grow old with you, Dean.”

Dean’s heart races wildly. Any minute, it might jump clear from his chest.

“I want to be with you for the rest of our mortal lives,” Cas says, his voice a lighthouse in a storm of doubt and despair and so many decades of negative reinforcement. “And then longer, when we both reach Heaven.”

“Cas,” is all Dean can say, raw and overwrought, still afraid he might wake up and find this all a dream.

“I will stay by your side.” Cas rubs his thumbs along the delicate bones of Dean’s wrist. Gently, so gently. “You will never be alone again.”

“I don’t want to hunt anymore,” Dean says.

“Okay.”

“I want to move into that house. Together.”

“Me, too.”

“I want you to stay,” Dean says, and then again, because once didn’t feel like enough. “Please stay with me.”

“I will,” Cas says with such unreserved affection that Dean thinks he might collapse. “I will stay.”

Dean does collapse then, into Cas, and into Cas’s waiting, open arms. “Cas, I...”

“You don’t have to say it,” Cas says. “I know now. I won’t question again.”

Dean wraps his arms around Cas, buries his face in the crook of Cas’s neck and shoulder, and holds on for dear life.

Later, when they untangle, Dean will lead Cas to the bed. They’ll lie side by side, facing each other, as the monster movies cast shadows around them. They will slide their hands together in the space between them. They’ll watch each other until their eyes grow heavy and they can’t keep them open anymore.

Much later, when they move into their farmhouse, they’ll quietly unpack their separate clothes into the same bedroom. And when the sun goes down, Dean will find Cas’s mouth in the dark and Cas will press his hands to the bare skin under Dean’s shirt. And Dean will say I love you again and again until he’s sure Cas can feel the words next to his heartbeat.

But for now, Dean holds onto Cas and whispers his own small promise, a mere hint of every good thing yet to come. “I'll stay with you too.”

#i wrote something #destiel #deancas #post-canon #season 15 ts #fix it #friends to lovers #angst with a happy ending #sam x eileen mention / #jack mention /

[bi-bard]

Milkshakes - Team Free Will Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Milkshakes

Pairing: Team Free Will X Platonic!Fem!Reader (as put in the request)

Requested: @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 1,846 words

Warning(s): violence, death

Summary: [Early Season 11 (Before Episode 10)] Sam and Dean think that there's something that can be The Darkness. Castiel warns them but... who knows? Maybe God's ultimate weapon isn't as scary as it seems.

Author's Note: I used dodie for outfit inspiration because the outfit matched the vibe but change it if you want. I only used a female read because it's in the request and it helped with clarity because the whole imagine is in 3rd person (I do usually use they/them pronouns in my work). Finally, I thought the milkshake flavor sounded good, but you can change it in your mind if you want to.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

----------------------------------------

--Third Person P.O.V--

Sam was leaning over a lore book in the library. It was too early for him to be so focused on the book but he felt like he needed to. The Darkness being released was his fault, he needed to find a solution.

Dean walked in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and was clearly still half-asleep. He sat across from his brother.

"What're you reading," Dean grumbled out in between sips of coffee.

"I found this book about the most powerful beings," Sam explained. "Most of them are just rumored to exist but I thought it'd give us a jumping-off point on where to find something to help us defeat Amara."

"Anything interesting," Dean asked.

"A Nephilim; kid of an angel and a human," Sam said. "There's no mention that they could kill someone as powerful as God. Then there's..."

Sam trailed off and went back through the book, hunting for a particular page he had read nearly an hour ago. He pointed to the page once he found it.

"This doesn't even have a name but it describes a creature created by God to be a weapon," Sam explained. "I was doing some snooping on some message boards when I first found out about it. There's a lot of religious nuts and self-proclaimed hunters who think this thing is gonna be the end of the world. They say it's a prophecy that can't be stopped."

"And you think hunting it down is a good idea," Dean asked.

"Listen, I don't think it's fair to think this thing wants to end the world," Sam replied. "I think it's the best choice we have right now."

"Alright, fine, where do we look," Dean asked.

The boys didn't have to look far before Castiel popped into the library. He asked where they had gotten on their path to defeat Amara. His eyes went wide when they explained what they wanted to do.

"Are you two insane," Castiel asked.

"Listen-"

"No, I know more about this than either of you," the angel stopped Dean's argument. "This creature could kill you both with a look and end the world with a flick of the wrist and you want to track it down?!"

"Isn't it worth trying," Sam asked.

"'Trying,'" Castiel was so unbelievable done with the idiotic decisions of the Winchesters at that point.

"If we don't try something, then Amara kills all of us anyways," Dean said. "We need something Cas. This could be the thing."

Castiel sighed, letting his head fall forward for a moment before looking back up at the boys.

"Fine," Castiel threw his hands up. "Do you know how to find this thing?"

"Looks like a spell," Sam turned the book so Castiel could look at the page. "We should have everything. It's strange no one's tried-"

"Succeeded," Castiel corrected. "People have probably tried if the spell is so simple."

"Okay, good, let's get the supplies and give it a shot," Dean clapped his hands and stood up.

In a matter of minutes, the boys and their angel were back around the table and ready to start the spell.

Castiel and Dean jumped when Sam grabbed a knife and nicked his hand.

"One of us needs to be bonded," Sam explained. "Like a human compass. It feels right that it's me."

He didn't wait for the other two to respond before he started reading the spell of the book. Castiel and Dean exchanged a look for a moment.

As he finished the spell, a purple flame shot up from the bowl for a second. Sam felt his arm tingling from the wound up. He shook it out, trying to understand what it was telling him.

States over, a young girl, a college student visiting home, is sitting in a booth at a small diner.

In between page turns, she sits up straight. Her eyes flash the same purple as the flame from the spell before she snaps out of the trance.

She looks around. Everything feels different. It's like the air had shifted around her. She furrowed her eyebrows... what the hell was that?

--time skip--

Dean pulled the impala up to the curb of the street. The three of them look at the nice house. White picket fence, two stories, a garden.

"Are you sure about this," Dean asked Sam. "This seems like a pretty normal house."

Sam nodded, "I can feel it. It's here."

"Alright, let's go," Dean replied.

The three of them got out of the car and made their way up the pathway. None of them knew what fight they were going to get once they opened that door. It could've been a deadly fight. They may not have even had a chance to fight.

Still, with one last silent check with the others, Dean lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

The last thing they expected was for a girl to open the door with a wide smile. She had a white dress on with an orange cardigan over the top.

"Hello," she said happily. "What can I help you with?"

"Sam," Dean looked at his brother. Sam just nodded. He could feel it in his gut. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)," the girl replied. "And you are?"

"I'm Sam," the taller man answered. "This is Dean and Cas."

"Nice to meet you," she held a hand out.

Sam awkwardly accepted, shaking her hand. They both froze, eyes flashing purple before they both stepped back from each other.

"That was weird," (Y/n) mumbled, frowning at her hand. "What was that?"

The boys looked at each other but before they could speak, there was a crash from inside the house. The girl jumped.

"Who's that," Dean asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "My parents are gone. No one else is supposed to be here."

Sam and Dean grabbed their guns before all of them walked inside.

Before they could get any answers for themselves, an angel rounded the corner and tried to grab (Y/n), who ran behind the others as soon as she saw the angel.

She stumbled backward toward the wall in shock and fear. She covered her mouth as the more angels walked into her living, not that she knew that's who they were.

Sam, Dean, and Cas were getting thrown around.

"Stop," Sam yelled as they walked toward (Y/n).

"We need something to defeat the Darkness," one of the angels said. "This is our option. Thank you for leading us to her."

(Y/n) was shaking more as she listened. The Darkness? Why was she so important to them? To the boys or the others who had broken into her house?

"Come on, (Y/n)," one of the angels had a hand out to her. She shook her head and the angel chuckled. "Fine. Make this harder."

The others came running at her.

"No," she yelled, dropping to the ground, and covering herself with her arms.

A pulse of energy shot out. The angels that had broken in had burned in front of her.

Dean, Sam, and Cas looked at each other.

(Y/n) slowly looked up from where she was.

"Hey," Sam walked over, kneeling next to her. "You alright?"

"What was that," she asked, shaking. "Who are you? Who were they? What did I do?"

"Hey, hey," Sam touched the girl's shoulders. "It's alright. Hey... how about we go somewhere to calm down? How about some food, yeah? Is there a restaurant nearby or something?"

She nodded. Sam helped her stand up fully and led her to the impala. Dean and Cas sat in the front while Sam and (Y/n) took the backseat.

(Y/n) rambled about a small diner nearby, giving Dean quick directions before falling silent again.

The four of them took a booth in the farthest back corner. (Y/n) sat leaning against the wall, Sam next to her and Cas and Dean across from her.

"Umm... do you know what you want," Sam asked quietly, making (Y/n) aware of the waitress there.

She was an old friend, "You alright, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah," (Y/n) nodded. "I'm just a little tired. Umm... can I get a cherry vanilla milkshake?"

"That it for you, dear," the waitress checked. (Y/n) nodded with a grin, playing with the end of her cardigan's sleeves.

The waitress took the other three's orders before walking away.

"Who were those people," (Y/n) asked. "Why did they break into my house?"

"Because God made you a weapon," Cas said bluntly, making (Y/n)'s eyes go wide.

"A weapon?"

"He means," Dean jumped in, "you have powers that you don't know about. That's why you were able to get rid of those angels."

"Those were angels," she tried to keep her voice down. They all nodded. "I thought angels were supposed to be good?"

"They are supposed to follow orders," Cas corrected. "Not all of them are good."

She nodded, "Are you guys angels?"

"No, well, Sam and I aren't," Dean pointed between him and his brother. "Cas is."

"Oh," she muttered. "You're not-"

"I'm not gonna force you to go to heaven to defeat the Darkness," Cas promised.

"The Darkness," she said. "What's that? Why do I need to fight it?"

"The Darkness is... kind of our fault," Sam explained. "She's trying to create a new world in her image, which includes destroying this one."

"So, how'd you find me," she asked.

Before they could answer, the waitress came back, dropping off their food and drinks. (Y/n) leaned forward and took a sip of her milkshake and grinned to herself for a moment.

The boys were so confused. This was God's weapon?

"Well, Dean and I are hunters," Sam continued once (Y/n) back over to him. "We hunt monsters. Our grandpa was part of this group, the Men of Letters. They have a book in their collection that talks about you. There was a spell that led us to you."

She nodded but furrowed her eyebrows. Monsters? God? Hunters? After what had happened today, she struggled to deny all of it but was still hesitant to believe them?

"Well, if the Darkness knows I can defeat... her... won't she be looking for me too," (Y/n) asked.

"We can keep you safe," Dean promised.

"You're sure?"

"As sure as possible," he nodded.

(Y/n) looked down for a moment, "Okay. I'll go with you. I just... I need to get some stuff from my house and tell my parents that I'll be gone."

"You can't tell them where you're going or why," Dean said. "It'll put them in danger."

She bit her lip, "If it saves them in the long run, fine."

(Y/n) asked a lot more questions that day as they ate in the diner. They told her about monsters and the big bads they had faced. Monsters' weaknesses and abilities. Their other hunting buddies. People she could trust.

Sam, Dean, and Cas trusted her immediately. They felt like they needed to. Like she was a person to rely on.

And there- over a cherry vanilla milkshake- (Y/n) watched her entire life change forever.

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#supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #castiel x reader #castiel imagine #castiel fanfiction #team free will x reader #team free will fanfiction #team free will imagine #imagine #fanfiction #x reader

[argylesweedstash]

did you just call me baby

(ao3 link)

The first time it happens, it’s an accident. At least, Dean’s banking on Castiel thinking it’s an accident. And it is, really. Dean fell onto the war room floor covered in black goo with his arms around Cas. Sam and Jack leapt up from the table, moving away from the intricate spellwork that no longer needed their attention.

Cas stirred a little. He’d been out of it when Dean had found him - half-lucid and mostly disbelieving. He’d let Dean pull him up and sling his arm around his shoulders, but hadn’t said much. Only mumbled apologies and words that sounded a lot like, “I hope this is real.”

Jack was first on the floor next to them. “Cas?” he asked, a tentative smile playing on his lips. Cas nodded and within seconds, his arms were full of his son.

Dean watched them, a smile playing on his lips. When they broke apart, Sam offered Castiel his arm. Cas had looked at it before taking it and being pulled into a hug by the taller man.

Dean removed himself from the floor and helped Jack up. When Sam released Cas, Dean stepped in front of him.

“It’s real,” Dean said, looking into Cas’s eyes.

Cas nodded. “Thank you for saving me, Dean.”

Dean finally closed the distance between them and pulled Cas into a bone crushing hug.

“I missed you, baby,” Dean muttered against Cas. When he realized that he’d said baby instead of buddy, he could feel heat rising to his cheeks. He removed himself from Cas and grinned sheepishly at the floor. There was a weird fluttering feeling in his chest. He wrote it off as the adrenaline that was still pumping through his veins.

Cas, for what it was worth, didn’t seem to notice the word. “I missed you, too, Dean.”

-

That was two weeks ago. Since then, Dean has been avoiding talking about it. Not just his slip, though, the things Cas had said to him before The Empty came and took him. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t feel the same way - he just didn’t know if he did or not. He likes Cas and he’s his best friend. He knows he likes spending time with him. Sometimes he’s overwhelmed by how fond of his friend he is, but he doesn’t read too far into that.

Plus, things hadn’t changed between them. They still watched movies together in the Dean Cave a couple nights a week. Castiel would always come and join Dean in the garage when he was working on any of the cars they kept. Dean would greet him with a, “Good morning, Sunshine,” every morning from his place at the table. The only thing that had changed was that they didn’t have the end of the world looming over their heads. Honestly, this is the happiest he’s been in a long time. Getting Cas back meant that they’d tied up their loose ends and now they could relax. Of course Dean had never felt this happy, they’d never so resolutely saved the world like they did this time around.

Dean is sitting at the table, now, staring at the laptop screen in front of him. There were still monsters, there might still be a case somewhere. In the back of his head Dean knows he doesn’t really want to find a case. He’s been enjoying his time with Cas and Sam. He likes that the most pressing thing he has to worry about is whether or not the fridge is stocked. He knows Sam has been getting stir crazy, though. Maybe he’ll find a case and send Sam off, encourage him to get Eileen in on it.

The sound of footsteps draws Dean’s attention away from the laptop. Castiel pads into the room. He’s wearing one of Dean’s hand-me-down shirts, even though he hasvclothing of his own. Part of pulling Cas out of The Empty meant leaving his grace behind. Jack had been pretty clear - Cas’s grace was the reason Jack was unable to just pull him out. So, here Cas is, as human as Dean, wearing Dean’s shirt. A smile threatens to break on Dean’s face.

“What’re you up to?” Dean asks.

Cas turns to face him. Dean notices toothpaste stuck to the corner of Cas’s mouth, he must have just finished brushing his teeth.

“It’s almost lunch time,” Cas says. “I was going to make myself something. Are you hungry? I can make enough for two.”

Dean shakes his head. “Just ate,” he says. “You, uh -” He gestures vaguely at Cas’s mouth.

“I what?” Cas asks, tilting his head a little.

“Baby,” Dean starts as he gets up from his chair to walk over to Castiel. “You have some toothpaste. Right there.”

Cas stares at Dean, wide eyed. Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes and grabs a napkin from the table. He wipes at Castiel’s mouth before he crumples the napkin and walks it over to the trash. Cas watches his movements.

“What?” Dean asks when he notices Cas staring at him. It’s not that he minds, Cas just looks a little lost.

Cas just shakes his head and puts a smile on his face. “Nothing. Thank you, Dean. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s part of being human, man. No worries,” Dean says, depositing himself back in his chair. “You gonna eat in here?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says, finally moving from where he was stopped.

Dean nods in his direction before he pats the chair next to him, smiling up at his friend. He returns to his research as Cas busies himself in the kitchen.

-

Two days later, Sam is gone to go after a nest of vamps and Eileen’s place just happens to be on the way there. Dean isn’t quite sure why Sam hasn’t just asked her to move in. He’s pretty sure Sam had refrained before because Dean had been a wreck with Cas gone. It was probably better for Dean and Eileen’s relationship that she hadn’t seen him like that. But now, there was no reason for her not to be here. She was family, after all.

Dean knocks on Cas’s door, ending his stream of thoughts. Dean was kind of bored and he hadn’t taken Cas anywhere but the supermarket since they’d brought him back. And, come to think of it, Dean couldn’t remember the last time just he and Cas had gone out for drinks.

Cas answers the door already dressed. “Dean. I was actually coming to look for you.”

“Well, I found ya first,” Dean says, putting an easy smile on his face. “Was gonna see if you wanted to come grab a drink with me. Looks like you’re going somewhere, though.” He didn’t want to press, but where on earth could Cas be going? It wasn’t like he really knew anyone around here outside of Sam and Dean. And if someone they knew was in town, why hadn’t Dean heard of it?

The ends of Cas’s lips turn up slightly. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Dean lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and beams at Castiel. “It’s a date, then. Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you at Baby.”

Cas nods at Dean’s retreating figure and mumbles, “It’s a date,” before shutting his door to walk to the car.

Dean meets him there a few minutes later. “Had to grab my keys,” he says, holding them up for Cas to see.

The drive to the bar passes in comfortable silence, Cas staring out the window at the passing buildings. Dean drums his fingers on his steering wheel. He glances to Cas a few times; he almost can’t believe Cas is really back. He’d been gone for two months. Dean had spent most of that time frantically reading through every lore book and the rest drinking until he couldn’t remember the pain. It had been Jack that finally suggested opening the rift and leaving Cas’s grace behind. Dean had been ready to go almost immediately.

Now that Castiel was back, Dean felt better than he had in years. A warm feeling had settled over him after they fell through the rift and it stayed around. Whenever he was with Cas he could only describe the we he felt as “content.” Like now, for example, he could drive all night like this and be pleased with the way he spent his evening.

They pull in and Dean holds the door to the bar open so Cas can walk through. “Grab us a table and I’ll get drinks,” he says, clapping his hand over his shoulder and walking past him to the bar.

He gets the bartender’s attention pretty quickly. “Hey, Lynn. Slow night?” he asks.

She rolls her eyes at him and pushes a stray strand of blonde hair out of her face. “It’s a Wednesday, what do you expect?” She gives a little chuckle and leans against the bar. “Where’s your brother?”

“Sammy’s with his girlfriend. Won’t be back for a few days,” Dean says easily. “Left me alone with Cas over there.”

Lynn looks past him at Castiel, who is seated at a booth in the corner. He’s looking around the mostly empty bar, seemingly taking in the neon signs advertising different kinds of alcohol. He’s wearing one of Dean’s flannels, Dean realizes belatedly.

“He’s cute,” Lynn says. She turns her attention back to the man in front of her. “What can I get for you two?”

“Two beers,” he says. And then, as an afterthought, “And two shots of your top shelf whiskey.”

She grins. “Celebrating something?”

“Come to think of it, yeah,” Dean says. “He, uh.” He looks for the words. “Just got back from a work trip. Gone for a couple of months.” That sounds like a good cover.

“I bet he’s happy to be home,” Lynn says, setting the beers in front of Dean before turning to grab a bottle from the shelf behind her. “You seem happy that he’s back.”

It’s Dean’s turn to grin. “I’m freaking thrilled. Dude’s my best friend.”

Lynn slides the now filled shot glasses toward Dean. “Want a tray to carry all that?”

Dean doesn’t get to answer before she’s sliding a tray toward him. “You need a tray,” she says, putting the drinks onto it. “I know you were going to try to carry all this over there without one.”

Dean thanks her and slides the tray onto his left arm, steadying it with his right hand. He turns toward the booth Cas is in and flashes him a smile while he lifts the tray slightly, indicating the beverages.

“That my shirt?” he says when he gets to the table. He sets a beer and a shot down in front of Cas.

Cas looks down at the flannel and then back at Dean in a way Dean can only describe as bashful. “Yes. It must have gotten mixed in with my laundry. I can return it, if you want.”

“Keep it. Looks better on you anyway.” Dean picks his shot up and motions for Cas to do the same. “We’re celebrating, Cas.”

Cas picks up his shot and looks at Dean curiously. “What are we celebrating?”

“You’re back!”

Cas smiles warmly. “I am,” he nods. “Thanks to you.”

“Well, Sam and Jack helped,” Dean says, grinning.

“To humanity,” Cas says, raising the shot.

“To humanity,” Dean echos before taking the shot.

Cas makes a face after he downs his and raises his beer to his lips to chase the taste away.

“You’ve not had a drink since you got back,” Dean remarks, watching Cas take a few long drinks from the bottle.

“You haven’t either,” he replies.

Dean contemplates the statement. “Really?” He takes a sip of his beer. “I guess I’ve just been busy.”

They both know that isn’t really true. Dean’s only been engaging in leisurely activities, he’s just not been drinking during them. He wonders for a moment why that might be. It’s probably because he doesn’t have any pain he needs to ignore, he thinks.

“Your tolerance is going to be shit.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m a cheap date.”

Dean looks at him for a moment before laughing. Cas gives him a genuine smile before returning to his beer.

Several beers later, Dean cuts himself off. Someone has to drive home and Cas is more than a little giggly on the bench across from him. He takes a sip of his third beer and gives Dean a measured look.

“What?” Dean asks, putting a soft smile on his face. “See something you like?”

“Yes,” Cas says.

Dean grins back at him. There’s a tug somewhere in his chest, but he ignores it. “Anything on your mind?”

Cas just looks at Dean, clearly deep in thought. “Not really, no.”

Dean laughs and shakes his head. “Want another?”

Cas’s beer is still half full. “Another what?”

“Another drink. Or another shot.”

“Another shot might be nice, actually.”

Dean smiles at him. “That’s my boy. I’ll be right back.”

He returns to the bar and waits for Lynn to walk over to him.

“Two more?” she asks.

“Just another shot,” Dean says. “I’m driving but huggy bear over there can have whatever he wants.”

Lynn shakes her head and pours another. “You two been together long? I haven’t seen him in here.”

Dean blinks back at her and then looks down at the shot. “Actually we, uh, we haven’t talked about… that. Being together.”

She frowns at Dean and he takes a breath. He hadn’t been avoiding it, really. He and Cas had just fallen back into their comfortable rhythm.

“He doesn’t know how you feel, does he?” Lynn asks. She looks a little sad now.

“I guess he doesn’t,” Dean says thoughtfully.

“You should tell him.”

Dean looks up at her.

“Not tonight, though. He should probably be sober.”

Dean nods and grabs the shot. “Thanks, Lynn.”

He sets the shot down across from Cas when he gets back to the table. “For you.”

Cas downs the shot as Dean settles back down across from him. “What were you two talking about?”

Dean stares at Cas. He knows he shouldn’t lie but if he says anything Cas may actually want to talk about his feelings and Dean isn’t ready for that. He doesn’t really have words and he’s not even sure he’s fully processed Cas’s confession yet. And, Lynn was probably right. Cas should be sober for that particular conversation.

“Sam,” Dean lies easily. “This is where we come for drinks. Neither of us have been by in a while.”

Cas accepts the lie and sips from his beer before starting a conversation about Jack and the prospect of weekly family dinners.

By the time Cas had finished his beer the shot he’d taken seems to hit him. “Dean.”

“Cas.”

“I’d like another shot.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “You can get it.”

Cas frowns at Dean before swinging his legs to the end of the booth to pull himself out. He pushes himself up on the table and wobbles a little before Dean is up and at his side, steadying him.

“When you don’t stand it hits you all at once,” Dean explains. He’s gripping Cas’s bicep and shoulder.

“I know how drinking works, Dean. I spend all my time with you.”

Dean chuckled low in his throat. “How about we get you home?”

“Can I drink there?”

Dean turns Cas to face him fully. “Hell yeah, you can.”

“You’ll be drinking, too?”

“Well, yeah. I won’t have to drive us anywhere. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Dean walks Cas to the Impala and deposits him in the passenger’s seat. “I’ll be right back, baby. I have to pay the tab.”

Cas stares at Dean for a moment before opening and promptly closing his mouth.

“I’ll leave the door open in case you hurl. And I’ll get a bag from Lynn.”

Dean returns to see Cas has closed the door and is currently slumped against it, sleeping. He rolls his eyes and drives him home, careful to avoid the bumps on the road. When they get home, he shakes Cas awake.

“‘Morning, Sunshine.”

“It’s not morning, Dean,” Cas replies groggily.

“Nope,” Dean says, leaning over to pull Cas out of the car. “Let’s get you to your room.”

They make their way through the bunker slowly. Dean sits Cas down and gets him out of his shoes and, after a brief moment of hesitation, his jeans. Once he’s gotten Cas under the blankets, he gets a glass of water from the kitchen and a few tylenol from the bottle he has stashed in his room.

“Alright,” he says, setting everything down on Cas’s night stand. “Take the tylenol when you wake up. You’re probably going to be hungover. And drink some water, okay?”

“Yes, Dean,” says the Cas sized lump under the covers.

“Let me know if you need anything else, okay? I’m right down the hall.”

Dean turns to leave but Cas makes a noise. Dean turns back around.

“Thank you for taking me out tonight, Dean. I had fun.”

Dean smiles. “I had fun, too. Get some sleep, baby.”

He flicks out Cas’s lights and reminds himself to stop calling Cas buddy. The dude loves him and Dean’s probably making it hurt or something. Plus, he’d accidentally called him baby when he’d first gotten back from The Empty. Dean’s probably sending him mixed signals. He shuts the door behind him and walks to his room; he knows he should probably figure out what to say to Cas. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that meant poking at that warm, fluttery feeling that seemed to be permanently in his chest.

-

Sam returns from the hunt a week later. He assures Dean it was an easy hunt and that he and Eileen hadn’t needed any help. He also admits to spending a few days with Eileen after they’d taken out the nest.

“How is she, anyway?” Dean asks, handing a beer to Sam and setting one on the end table next to Cas. They’d been watching old western’s in the Dean Cave when Sam got home. Cas had wanted to spend the day watching movies and Dean had agreed on the condition that he got to pick the movie.

“She’s good. She misses you two,” Sam answers.

“Tell her to get her ass out here,” Dean says. “She’s family at this point, man. She should be here, anyway. It would make hunts easier.”

Sam shook his head, smiling. “That’s the first hunt I’ve been on since we beat Chuck. You still haven’t been out.”

“Hey, I’m keeping Cas company. He’s still newly human,” Dean argues.

“You could go hunt if you want, Dean. I’m capable of taking care of myself. I don’t mind,” Cas says from the couch. Dean looks over at him and shakes his head.

“Nah, you’ve been back less than a month. We gotta make sure you have your sea legs before I go anywhere, baby.”

The words left his mouth effortlessly. Sam and Cas just stared at him for a second before Sam coughed.

“It’s great seeing you guys but I’m going to go shower and pass out for a few hours,” he says before making a quick exit toward his room.

“Fine, Sammy. We didn’t want to hang out with you, anyway,” Dean shoots back before collapsing onto his side of the couch.

He hits play on the movie and settles in. He has his own bottle of beer pressed to his lips when Cas speaks.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” he replies, lowering the bottle from his lips.

Cas is quiet for a moment. “Why do you keep calling me ‘baby’?” he asks carefully.

Dean stares back at him. “I only called you that once,” he says, on guard now. Had it slipped out again? He didn’t think it had but now he’s not so confident. He sets his beer bottle down.

“No, you’ve done it five times.” So, it had slipped out again. More than once. “You did just now before Sam left.”

Dean is silent, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t even realized it had come out. “I’m sorry,” he finally decides, lowering his gaze from Cas’s stare for a brief moment.

“I don’t mind it,” Cas says quietly. He’s looking somewhere to the left of Dean, his eyes occasionally flickering to Dean’s face. “I thought you were doing it on purpose, is all.”

Dean can’t seem to form a fully coherent thought. He knows he needs to say something - mention Cas’s confession, maybe. But he doesn’t have the words for that yet. Instead he says, “Do you want me to stop?”

“I want you to do it on purpose,” Cas says, looking down. Dean can see the beginnings of pink on the top of his ears. He’s overwhelmed with an ache somewhere in his chest.

Dean doesn’t know why, but he slides in close to Cas. He reaches his hand out and lifts his chin so their eyes meet. “Anything you want, baby,” he says, softly. The fluttering in his chest is more insistent now.

He hears Cas’s breath hitch. Cas closes and opens his eyes before saying. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course,” Dean says, his hand still resting on Cas’s chin.

“Will you kiss me?”

Before Dean registers what he’s doing, he nods and ducks his head in. The kiss is chaste and quick but Cas leans in and responds gently. When they break, there’s a soft smile on Cas’s face.

“Cas,” Dean says, moving his hand to Cas’s cheek. “I, uh. I need to talk to you about. About what you said. Before you… Ya know.”

“When I told you I loved you?” Cas supplies, his eyes half-lidded.

“Yeah,” Dean says, chuckling lightly. “I. I think I do, too. I just haven’t -”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean. You know that.”

Dean brings his mouth gently back to Cas’s and kisses him again. This time just a little longer, his other hand finding Cas’s waist.

“It was just so easy when you got back,” Dean says when he pulls away. He tries to find any string of words that expresses how he feels. “I didn’t think I needed to say anything but…”

Cas stares at Dean, encouraging him to keep going. Dean can feel his face heating up.

“Lynn asked how long we’d been together,” he says, lamely. “The bartender,” he adds.

“I didn’t get to meet her but I remember her name.”

Dean smiles at him and takes a breath before speaking. “And I told her we hadn’t talked about it. And she looked really sad. I realized I do need to say something.”

They’re silent for a moment and then Dean says. “Holy shit. That was a date.”

Cas looks confused. “You told me it was a date.”

“I did?”

“Yes. When I said yes to going with you, you said ‘it’s a date.’” Cas says.

Dean shakes his head. “It’s… It’s an expression, Cas,” he says. Then, “But, uh, that was a date. I think.”

“Dean. Did you want it to be a date?” Cas asks. His voice is lined with both patience and amusement.

Dean pauses for a minute before saying, “Yeah. That was our first date.” He leans in and presses another kiss to Cas’s mouth.

Cas kisses back and then pulls away a little. “Would you like to go on a second date?”

Dean makes a show of thinking. He hums lightly.

“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas. I do,” he places a kiss on the side of Cas’s mouth before he drops his hand. “I, uh, I don’t really know what to say but… You can have me, if you want. You’re just going to have to work with me. I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Cas says.

Dean places a kiss on Cas’s cheek before he turns back to the TV and starts the movie. Cas reaches across to grab his hand, intertwining their fingers in the space between them.

“Hey, baby?”

Cas’s head pops up in response to the pet name, there’s a faint smile on his lips. “Yes, Dean?”

“I love you.”

Cas beams at him before replying, “I love you, too.”

Dean turns his head back toward the TV but spends a better part of the rest of the movie sneaking glances at Cas. He indulges the warm feeling in his chest, even if he doesn’t quite have the words for everything yet.

#supernatural #destiel #destiel fanfic #spn #mine #bye this was inspired by a post I made because im a monster! #my writing #my fic

[goldenraeofsun]

A/b/o + celebrities and/or coffee shop 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt, Julesy, and I'm so sorry for the long wait! Part II should be up in the next few days, but hopefully this beginning 7k will satisfy for the time being 😘

Castiel is elbow-deep in suds when Jo plunks a medium to-go cup on the edge of the sink. “Thank you?” he says, bemused.

“It’s not for you, doofus,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “There’s a customer out back,” she jerks her head towards the service exit that leads to the alley where they dump their trash and Ruby takes her furtive smoke breaks. “I need you to take this to him.”

“Out back?” Castiel repeats dubiously, craning his neck to catch sight of their on-site baker, Benny, who is busy kneading focaccia dough for tomorrow’s sandwiches. Benny, full of southern politeness, doesn’t give any indication he’s eavesdropping.

Jo gives Castiel a short nod, her alpha scent flaring with irritation. “I’d take it out there myself, but he always talks my ear off, and Kevin still can’t draw a latte art that doesn’t look like a dick, so…”

Castiel frowns but nods, and Jo’s expression eases once she doesn't hear a challenge to her request. Still, he has to ask, “But why doesn’t he order at the counter like a normal customer?”

Jo takes a step back towards the door. “You’ll see. Just… don’t make a big deal of it.”

“A big deal of what?” Castiel calls to her, but she’s already disappeared out to the front of the cafe.

Castiel sighs and wipes his hands on a dish towel. He picks up the drink, sniffing curiously.

He nearly gags at the strong aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples all on top of espresso and milk. They definitely don’t serve that on the menu. Admittedly, Castiel hasn’t memorized the list of hot drinks they serve at Hunter’s Cafe, but this is an assault on anyone with a nose. He’s been their busboy and dishwasher for six months since his second year as a graduate student began, and Jo has only let him mind the counter three times, all as far from peak time as she could get.

But a job is a job. Holding the drink, he shoulders open the back door.

“Hey - oh, you’re not Jo,” a familiar voice says.

Castiel stops dead in his tracks because, despite the sunglasses, the baseball hat, and hunched shoulders, Dean Winchester is unmistakable.

Away from the limelight, Dean apparently favors soft-looking flannels over worn tee shirts and jeans. In one hand, he holds a half depleted sheaf of french fries. Stunned, Castiel doesn't immediately hand over the reason for his appearance.

“Whatever, is that mine?” Dean demands, zeroing in on Castiel’s cup.

Still beyond speech, Castiel dumbly hands the affront to coffee over.

After a muttered thanks, Dean takes a long drink. “Christ, this tastes even better than normal.”

Castiel inhales a surreptitious breath. It’s not every day one gets to catch the scent of Hollywood’s omega darling.

Not that anyone would know Dean's secondary gender just by looking at him. Dean stands a few inches taller than the average male omega - he has nearly an inch of height on Castiel, and Castiel is the dictionary definition of standard alpha physique.

While Castiel might not be Dean’s most knowledgeable fan, he hasn’t been living under a rock for the past five years. It was all over the papers when Dean was cast in his first alpha role. Dean wasn’t the first omega actor to do so, but he was certainly the most prominent. Castiel’s sister, Anna, an actual fan, spent a memorable dinner ranting about how all the prejudiced reporters on the press tour. Apparently they only asked Dean about the diet and exercise routine that transform into a “real” alpha, while, in the next round, his alpha castmates fielded questions about their characters’ moral code and complex development.

But, in the alley behind Hunter’s Café, Castiel’s nose is completely overwhelmed by the fryers of the fast food restaurant next door, the set of dumpsters directly to his right, and the almost offensively apple coffee Dean is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Dean could smell like old gym socks for all Castiel can tell.

“Where’s Jo?” Dean asks once he resurfaces. He jams a few fries in his mouth. Before he's finished chewing, he sucks down some more latte in an unholy taste combination.

“Busy,” Castiel replies. “We have a new hire, and so far Kevin can only draw genitalia on lattes instead of flowers.”

Dean guffaws, nearly inhaling his drink. Swearing unrepentantly, he takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his temple with his free hand. “Christ, I’m too hungover to laugh like that.” He squints over at Castiek before sliding the sunglasses back on his face.

Castiel stares. “If you’re hungover, why are you here at -” he checks his watch “-seven in the morning?”

Dean slurps at his fruity latte before he answers. “Got a meeting at nine. This,” he says, brandishing his mostly empty cup, “and a large fries are the cure.” His hands occupied, Dean ducks his head to fish a single fry out and holds it like a cigarette between his lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” Castiel says, aghast.

Dean inches the rest of the fry into his mouth. “Don't knock it ‘til you try it,” he says with a wink.

Cas blushes.

“Hey,” Dean says, a new thought coming to him, “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by the question, he answers, “Castiel.”

Dean mouths his name once, his brow furrowing at the new syllables. With a small shrug of capitulation he says, “Well, Cas, thanks for the drink.” He toasts him one before tipping the cup all the way back, draining it.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean grins. “I couldn't tell if you recognized me or not.”

“I did,” Castiel says, clearly unnecessarily.

Amused, Dean throws him a long, considering look. “You’ve got one hell of a poker face.” He unceremoniously shovels the rest of the fries in his mouth and balls up the wrapper. He tosses it with practiced ease into the waiting dumpster.

“Thank you?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“Thank you,” Dean says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’re the one who saved my hide.” He sidles forward and shoves a bill into Castiel’s slack hand. Without another word, he takes off out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he’s out of sight, Castiel unclenches his hand. Dean tipped him ten dollars.

* * *

“How is this even more pungent than last time?” Castiel demands, nose wrinkling as he sets a now clean muffin tin back on the shelf. It’s been a week since he met Dean Winchester, and hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of apple pie since then.

He is alone with Jo in the kitchen, since Benny’s early morning shift ends at eleven.

“I added a caramel drizzle,” Jo says, her scent rising with her self-satisfaction.

Castiel stares at her in horror. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“’Cause I’m trying to see what his limit is, and so far - nothing,” Jo says, shrugging. “Get to it. He’s real grouchy if you make him wait too long.”

“And why aren’t you taking it to him?” Castiel says, eyebrows rising. “Kevin’s moved onto multiple hearts now. Admittedly, his first one looked like a labia, but he’s gotten much better.”

“But Ruby didn’t show up, so we’re short staffed,” Jo says shortly. Outside, Kevin yells something indistinguishable though the kitchen door, and Jo winces.

Castiel takes the latte.

Just like last time, Dean is waiting, wearing a different flannel but the same jeans with the hole above the left knee. He abandoned the sunglasses, since the clouds overhead cast the whole alley in shade. They’re hanging from the vee of his shirt collar, pulling the fabric down a tempting extra inch.

Unfortunately, the fast food restaurant next door must have just taken out the trash last night, since the alley reeks of stale bread and rotting fish patties.

Castiel lets the door slam behind him, unable to hold back his corresponding smile as Dean lights up as he sees him.

“Thank god,” Dean says as he reaches for the latte. “I was starting to think Jo was gonna stiff me.”

“We’re short staffed at the moment,” Castiel says apologetically, “so you got me again.”

Dean eyes him over the lid of his cup. “Not a downside from where I’m standin’,” he drawls.

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Dean can’t mean it like Castiel thinks he does. He’s an actor, feeding people lines is the dictionary definition of his job. Instead Castiel asks, “No french fries this time?” because he’s not nearly ready to leave yet.

“Already ate ’em, while I was waiting,” Dean says dismissively.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dean says with a little grin. “I got my caffeine fix eventually, and that’s what I really care about.”

“You look remarkably more put together than last time,” Castiel says as he leans against the doorway, watching Dean sip at his drink.

“Didn’t drink as much,” Dean says with a grin. He tips back his cup and takes a long pull. “Fries can only get you halfway there. Christ, that’s the stuff.”

Castiel can’t help but make a face. The latte smells horrendous; it can’t taste that much better.

“What?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

Castiel probably shouldn’t tell Dean what is exactly on his mind. Castiel has found very few people appreciate his default brand of honesty - Hunter’s Café customers, especially. But Dean isn’t technically his customer - he’s Jo’s - and Castiel has reached the point in his life where he doesn’t need to hang onto people who don’t like him and vice versa. Dean isn’t even providing extra publicity for the establishment, since he’s getting serviced in the alley behind the kitchen.

Technically, Castiel needs a celebrity acquaintance as much as he needs a free bag of cat food (he doesn’t have a cat).

But he does like having one.

A celebrity acquaintance, that is. Cats are inherently suspicious.

Reluctantly, Castiel says, “I can’t imagine that latte tastes very good.”

To his surprise, instead of demanding Jo bring him his coffee from now on, Dean laughs. “Not a fan of apple pie?”

“Not in my coffee.”

Dean takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. “I think it’s delicious.”

“I think your taste buds must be severely incapacitated.”

Dean waggles the near empty cup in front of Castiel’s face in what must be an enticing manner to someone with no sense of smell or taste. “Wanna try?”

Castiel valiantly holds back his recoil. “No, thank you.”

But Dean’s genial expression doesn’t waver. “‘M feeling pretty much human again, so it’s up for grabs.”

“I’d sooner lick the dumpster,” Castiel blurts before he can filter himself.

Dean whistles, rocking back on his heels. “Harsh.”

Castiel sighs. Honesty was a mistake. He mutters, embarrassed, “I’m just not a very big fan of sweets.”

“No?”

“I’ve been living with my cousin while in graduate school at Columbia,” he explains, his tone apologetic for his earlier comment, “and he has a horrendous sweet tooth. I don’t think he’s ever seen a carrot that wasn’t in a cake first.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. He laughs.

What Castiel wouldn’t give to scent Dean’s joy for himself. “He would probably love that latte,” Castiel continues wryly.

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He taps his fingers against the sides of the cup as he asks, “So you’re in school? For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” Castiel asks seriously. He’s had too many conversations with strangers and casual friends who have asked the exact same question and regretted asking it almost immediately.

Dean ducks his head. “I don’t know any graduate students, and I,” he breaks off, his cheeks going pink, “I never went to college, so I have no idea what it means.” He sucks on the dregs of his latte, gaze dropping to the vicinity of Castiel’s knees.

“Oh,” Castiel says, feeling lighter. “In that case, I’m studying ethnomusicology.”

Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t sound real.”

“It’s a legitimate area of study,” Castiel assures him. “I research music as it pertains to culture and diverse elements of social life. Ethnomusicology focuses not only on the music itself, but music as a social process, as a medium for humans to relate to each other. In short, it examines how music functions in a particular society.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t get the glazed-over look most people do when he explains his field of study. “So what kind of music are you talking about?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to flush. His colleagues, while they respect his academic reputation, have nearly all looked down on his chosen object of study. “One of the main tenets of ethnomusicology is a global perspective on music-”

“What, like Tibetan throat-singing?” Dean interrupts. At Castiels’ stare, he explains quickly, “Sammy had a phase.”

Castiel chuckles. “Yes, I do know a professor at Cornell who is studying just that. But my focus is much closer to home. I study,” he inhales a small breath, “tribute bands.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “What.”

“Tribute bands offer a fascinating definition of the nature of performance, the difference between authenticity and identity,” Castiel says, already on the defensive. He can already hear his voice trying to fall into his usual academic patterns, and tries to rein himself in, “and historical consciousness in popular music. Here -” He pulls out his phone.

Dean listens in complete silence to Yellow Dubmarine’s cover of I Want You.

“Anyway,” Castiel coughs, embarrassed he made Dean sit through all that, “I also teach Rock and Roll from the 1950s to 1980s. There is a great deal of crossover with my specialty since most tribute bands recreate acts from the 60s to the 80s.”

“Dude,” Dean says in a rush, “if you think that makes you less interesting, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Castiel blinks.

“What bands are we talkin’ about?” he asks eagerly. “More Beatles? The Stones? The Who?”

Castiel nods. “I’m hoping to go to a Lez Zeppelin concert next month.”

“Led Zeppelin?”

“Lez,” Castiel says, emphasizing the ‘z’, “an all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band.”

Dean frowns. “They have a gimmick?”

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re completely sincere, I assure you.” He smiles wryly. “I interviewed Misstallica for a paper I’m writing on diverse, for lack of a better word, musicians in the tribute world, and they felt right at home with the long hair and tight pants. I’ve never met people who more adore the songs they perform.”

“Huh,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“Except maybe Air-O-Smith,” Castiel adds, “an American all-omega tribute band of Aerosmith.”

Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“My favorite all-omega tribute band, though, is Omega You Eight One Two,” Castiel muses, “a Van Halen cover band.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says faintly.

“Their lead guitarist, as you can imagine, is phenomenal.”

Dean shakes his head, his expression going slack. “Wait, seriously? That’s a thing? All omega acts?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “That’s one of the most compelling aspects of tribute bands, when they flip the traditional male-alpha dynamic of the original, and how they translate that into their own act while keeping the whole performance authentic to the creators. It’s a fascinating process to watch and study.”

“I bet,” Dean says fervently. “Hey, d’you think-”

The back door opens before Dean can finish his sentence.

Jo pokes her head out, looking askance at the pair of them. “Are you still out here?” She glares at Dean. “Stop complaining about your diet, and let Castiel come back to work.”

Castiel’s mouth purses. “You’re on a diet?”

“Not on cheat day,” Dean tells him, lifting his empty cup. He turns to Jo. “And I wasn’t complaining at all. Cas was actually telling me about tribute bands.”

“Really?” Jo asks, her nose wrinkling.

Dean tosses his trash in the dumpsters. “They sound awesome.”

“I like them,” Castiel says lamely, off-footed now the conversation is clearly wrapping up.

Jo rolls her eyes, alpha irritation practically radiating off her. “Good for you.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you deal with Joanna Beth on your own,” Dean says as he pulls out his wallet and hands Castiel a folded bill. He gives a mocking salute as he takes a step back, “Good luck, dude.”

“Thank you?”

“Come on, fanboy,” Jo growls once Dean’s disappeared from view, “back to work.”

* * *

“Can’t you take it?” Castiel asks, his tone verging on pleading, as Jo follows him back into the kitchen. It’s too early in the morning for another meeting, closer to first time Castiel met Dean at seven am compared to their last meeting at a little before eleven.

This past weekend, Castiel went down a spiral of Dean Winchester content. He read up on all of Dean’s recent projects, scanned headlines about rumors of his next film - some action thriller that Castiel presumes is the reason for Dean’s diet, and watched interview after interview. Dean on Stephen Colbert. Dean on Good Morning America. Dean on some very confusing show where they forced him to eat spicy chicken wings, which just seemed like an exercise in pepper-based sadism.

Castiel didn’t really understand the Saturday Night Live skit where Dean played one half of a demon-hunting brother duo, but the live studio audience laughed uproariously at multiple points.

Jo all but slams Dean’s latte on the ledge above the sink. “You know the health inspector is here. I can’t let Ruby near the guy, and you know how Kevin gets around figures of authority.”

Castiel sets down his tub of dirty dishes. “He nearly peed himself when he had to tell you he dropped a tray of scones over the floor last week,” he says flatly.

“Exactly,” Jo says. “Benny is busy,” she says, tipping her head to where Benny is adding more flour to a huge bowl.

“Cheers, darlin’.”

She turns back to Castiel. “So, you’re it today, champ.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles.

“What?” Jo asks, her hands on her hips. “You seemed to get along with Dean. I actually didn’t know you could talk that much before I sent you back there.”

Castiel carefully transfers the dirty plates to the sink. “Getting along with him isn’t the problem,” he says darkly.

“Getting along with him too well is the issue?” Jo asks, her eyebrows rising.

Castiel scowls at her observation. Her emotional intuition is what makes her an excellent café manager, so he can hardly fault her for that. He doesn’t respond to her question.

“Take it to him,” Jo says, her tone softening. “He likes you.”

Castiel raises his head to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Jo pulls her phone from her back pocket and waves it in his face. “We talk,” she says. “How do you think he orders every time? He’s not getting those lattes for free, not after I spent so much time getting them exactly right.”

Castiel can’t hold back his grimace. The latte still smells awful, like a vat of boiled candied apples.

“Look,” Jo says, lowering her voice, “Dean’s famous, sure, but he’s actually a very private person. He runs his mouth to anyone who’ll listen, but he never really says anything important. So he doesn’t really connect with a lot of people. If he says he likes you, I’m gonna say that’s a good thing - if you tell him I said this, I’ll kick your ass - and make you his designated errand boy.”

Castiel bites his lip. “But I don’t -”

“Dude, don’t make me pull the boss card,” Jo says, just the barest hint of threat in her words.

“Fine.” Castiel snatches the latte off the counter. “But I want a raise.”

“You can get a free sandwich.”

Castiel glares daggers as he shoulders open the back door.

But the alley is empty.

Castiel breathes through his mouth as he steps out. The overflowing dumpsters carry the odor of moldering cheese and more rancid fish, and the fryers next door are still going strong. He doesn’t find Dean lurking behind the trash for some strange reason, and he’s about to head back in and dump Dean’s latte down the sink when a shout makes him turn around.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls, jogging in from the brightly lit street.

“Hello, Dean.” He hands over the latte.

“Thanks - sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “Some fans caught me sneaking in here, and wanted a selfie.”

“Oh,” Castiel says for lack of anything better to say.

Dean tips back his cup, his expression falling into pure bliss. “Christ, that’s so much better when I’m not hungover.”

Castiel stares. “You’re drinking that with all your capacities intact?”

“Ain’t no better way to enjoy pie,” Dean says, grinning widely.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “That’s not pie.”

“It’s as close as I’m gonna get at eight in the morning on a Thursday,” Dean says with a shrug.

Silence falls between them, and Castiel can’t help glancing over Dean’s shoulder, tentatively scanning for the people who caught his attention earlier. Plenty more would have approached Dean if he didn’t have Jo’s latte waiting for him; Castiel would bet his job on it.

Dean is a celebrity.

Castiel is a grad student who can’t even afford to support a guinea pig on his stipend and café salary.

After a long beat, Dean asks, a touch hesitantly, “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Stalking you on the internet.

“Nothing,” Castiel lies. At the slight fall in Dean’s expression, he adds, “I cleaned my kitchen over the weekend.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a weird dude, you know that?”

Hurt, Castiel takes a step back. Jo probably needs him for… something.

“Not in a bad way!” Dean says quickly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, “please don’t stop giving me coffee.”

Castiel hesitates. “Why is it weird that I cleaned my kitchen?” He frowns. “I suppose you employ someone to do that for you.”

Dean seesaws his free hand back and forth as he sips at his latte. “Not always,” he lowers his voice, “I actually like cleaning - it helps me relax and shit. There’s nothing like blasting some tunes and scrubbing out that stain on the counter that’s been annoying you forever.”

Castiel lowers his voice too. “Is this a secret?”

Dean grimaces. “Not really. But, you know, it’s one of those omega things.”

Castiel doesn’t know. Well, he knows it is a stereotypical omega trait to like housework, but he has no idea why Dean would whisper it in a back alley like he’s confessing to defrauding an elderly relative. “And that is bad because…?”

Dean takes a long pull from his cup. “I don’t want to hammer the omega thing home too hard, alright?”

“But you are an omega,” Castiel says, feeling a little stupid for saying it out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “but if I lean into it, I’ll stop getting alpha roles.”

“You only want to play alphas?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean’s mouth twists. “They’re the better parts. Omegas are always the damsels in distress or get killed off first for the plot.”

“I’m sure not all films are like that,” Castiel says. God knows, Anna made him sit through enough films with an omega protagonist that did not fit the typical romantic comedy restrictions.

“Most.”

“The last movie I saw,” Castiel says, hesitant because Dean must know more about this than him, “my sister recommended it, it had an omega lead who led a team of paranormal investigators. A sort of horror-comedy.”

Dean’s face loses some of its hostility. Almost intrigued, he asks gruffly, “D’you know who wrote it?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Castiel pulls out his phone to look it up. He reads aloud, “Ghostfacers, directed by Ed Zeddmore, written by Harry Spangler. Starred Maggie Zeddmore and Alan Corbett.” He pauses, trying to remember the details. “I think they both were omegas. I’m sure there are more films like Ghostfacers out there for you to make.”

Dean sips at his latte. “A few. None with big enough names attached to really get on my radar.”

“Well, if you signed on, wouldn’t there be a big name attached?”

“Yeah,” Dean says in a tone that clearly conveys he’s thought of this possibility before. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just - what if I take one of these roles, and it gets all this attention just ’cause I’m in it, and it flops?”

Castiel tilts his head. “That would hardly be your fault. Most failed films are hardly the work of one person. Usually, it’s a combination of a bad story, bad production, and bad acting.” He levels Dean an appraising look. “Right off the bat, you control two of those elements - pick a good script and act as well as you always have.”

Dean blinks. “You’ve seen my stuff?”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought I already said I knew who you were?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean says, his voice petering off with embarrassment, “that didn’t mean you liked my movies.”

“The majority of America liked your last movie, Dean,” Castiel says dryly. “Either that, or you have a very hardworking and wealthy mother who poured a hundred million dollars into ticket sales.”

“I mean, Mom’s a fan, but not that big of a fan,” Dean says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure she’d rather get a twenty-minute call from yours truly than sit through a two-hour flick with my name on the poster.”

Castiel hands over his phone. “Here,” he says, tilting it so Dean can see the summary of Ghostfacers.

Dean brightens as he reads through it. “The Alpha dies first?”

“He thought he could deal with the ghost on his own.”

“Typical alpha macho,” Dean snorts. His head snaps up as he gives the phone back. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Castiel says easily. “With my lifestyle, posturing is a waste of time. I’ve long ago resigned myself to not being the primary breadwinner in any future household.”

“Really?”

Castiel throws him a look. “I’m in academia, Dean. Tenure is hardly a guarantee. Even so, there isn’t a wealth of money out there for ethnomusicology grants.”

Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “It’s awful big of you.”

“Just logical,” Castiel says evenly. “It shrinks my dating pool considerably, but I’d rather do what I love than compromise that much for any potential partner.”

Dean inhales a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable. “I get that.”

“If it means I can’t afford to mate a house-omega, I’ll just have to keep cleaning my kitchen myself,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean grins. “I mean, if you spot me a six pack and don’t tell my trainer about it, I’ll clean your kitchen.”

Castiel turns bright red. He can’t bring himself to respond to that offer, so he changes the subject.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t even bother pretending to protest as Jo barges into the kitchen, the telltale scent of sugary apples wafting around her like a palpable shield. Castiel already set himself for heartbreak where Dean Winchester is concerned. He might as well take advantage of every interaction he has left.

He went to sleep late last night, watching one of Dean’s earlier movies. He was slimmer and younger, but he still shone with his signature charisma and talent. For the first time since Castiel started the morning shift at Hunter’s Café, he snoozed his alarm.

Hurrying through his morning routine, Castiel couldn’t help resenting Dean just a little. If only Dean hadn’t chosen a profession where his literal job is to be whatever his audience wants him to be.

As Castiel pushes open the door, Dean is waiting outside. Dark sunglasses shield his green eyes, and a violet bruise blooms over his left eyebrow. As the door slams shut behind Castiel, Dean winces. His left hand holds a half-empty paper container of french fries.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t look good.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean says darkly. “Gimme.”

Castiel pauses. “Did your hangover eliminate your manners?”

Dean flushes bright red. “No,” he mutters. “Sorry, Cas. I just feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Castiel says frankly as he hands it over.

“Thanks,” Deans says, his voice sour as old lemons. “I told Charlie tequila shots before Monopoly was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to me?” He gestures to his face. “Next thing I know, Jo’s throwing Charlie’s bag of DnD dice at my head.”

“You got that playing Monopoly? Wait, Jo did this to you?” he demands, gesturing to the cafe behind him. “Jo Harvelle?”

Dean just glares over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yeah, Katniss got me good.”

“God, why?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a distinctly smug smirk. “’Cause she was going bankrupt, and she had to sell her last property to me.”

“So this was because of Monopoly,” Castiel says dubiously. In his experience, a board game has never led to actual violence.

Dean shrugs. “Game nights get intense. Why do you think I’m always bangin’ down your door the morning after?”

Castiel can’t believe it. “You’ve been getting this drunk at a game night? Every time?”

“So what?” Dean shoves four french fries in his mouth. “Whaddya think I was doin’?”

“Partying?” he suggests.

Dean snorts. “Maybe six years ago when I was doing B-level flicks and trying to meet as many people as I could. Now I have a back-to-back shooting schedule and hangovers if I don’t pace myself.”

Castiel watches Dean polish off his fries at a truly impressive and horrifying speed. He can’t help asking, “Why was Jo at your game night?”

“’Cause she’s a menace who knows how to pick locks?” Dean heaves a weighty sigh. “I’ve known Jo since we were kids. She and her mom - who started Hunter’s Café - were my neighbors.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean gestures to the alley with a wry hand. “Jo likes to keep it under wraps.”

“I see why Jo keeps making those drinks for you,” Castiel says, nodding at the half-finished latte in Dean’s hand.

“You didn’t make it?” Dean says, and does he sound almost disappointed?

Castiel shakes his head. “Jo is keeping the recipe close to the chest.”

“Probably worried everyone’ll want one if they get the taste.” Dean tips the cup back.

Castiel can’t help his noise of disgust. At Dean’s sharp look, he says aloud, “She’s probably worried everyone will never come back if they try it.”

Dean’s laugh cuts off with a wince. He raises a hand to his head. “Christ, last night was a mistake.”

Castiel surreptitiously scents the air for a better gauge of how discomfited Dean really is, but, as always, all he gets is trash and fryer oil. “How are you doing? Apart from the injury, headache, and general hangover-related malaise.”

“Oh, apart from that?” Dean echoes mockingly, but his words lack any heat. He crams a few fries into his mouth. “I asked my agent to send me a few more scripts with omega roles,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles. “That’s great.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Hopefully, she’ll pick out a decent one, and I can get something set up for after Two for the Show wraps.”

“Is Two for the Show the reason for your diet?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. I have a bunch of shirtless scenes, so that means three months with the diet coach from hell.”

Castiel makes a noise of sympathy. After a moment, he asks, “Is it worth it?”

Dean chews a fry, scowling between bites. “Not really,” he says in a low voice. “Sammy’s the farmers market maniac in the family.” Wistfully, he continues, “Give me a good cheeseburger deluxe every day for the rest of my life with a side of pie, and I’ll die a happy man.”

“I didn’t think apple pie came as a side.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Dean says with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his latte.

Castiel doesn’t bother holding back his smile.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “It’s just like, I don’t look like a traditional omega, so I figured I might as well try for the alpha roles.” He swallows. “’S a win-win situation. I look the part and the characters are better - what’s the downside?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Other than your restricted diet and inadvisable levels of drinking?”

A humorless smile pulls at Dean's mouth. “Not pullin’ the punches this morning, huh?”

Castiel colors, his face heating with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” An inadequate excuse, but it’s not like he can tell Dean the real reason for his more uncharitable thoughts.

Castiel has never been one to lean into his alpha instincts. Possessiveness, aggression, arrogance - Castiel has had his (mostly regrettable) moments, but they hardly define his character. But over these past few weeks, he’s had to repeatedly tell himself that he can’t solve Dean’s problems. Dean is a wildly successful adult with millions of fans, while Castiel can’t even handle Hunter Cafe's front counter during the morning rush.

Dean would hardly welcome a nobody little alpha telling him to just… do what he wants and damn the consequences because he deserves to be happy with his life and his work.

Dean plucks out the rest of his fries and balls the wrapper against his hip. He lobs it in the dumpster. “No, I get it. I’m complaining about things that most people would kill to have.” He glances towards the mouth of the alley, his mouth set in a thin line.

But before Dean can leave, Castiel says quickly, “That’s not the way I see it. Your specific frustrations aren’t universal, but hardly anyone’s are. Society is inherently unfair, and it’s understandable to be angry about it.”

God knows Castiel railed enough about the unfairness of Dean Winchester to Gabriel enough over the past few weeks.

Even now, hungover and bruised, Dean is beautiful.

Castiel steels himself. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think not looking like a typical omega is a bad thing.”

Dean turns to him in surprise, and Castiel would give up that free sandwich Jo offered him to be able to scent what exactly Dean is feeling. But, after a second that stretches into an eternity, all Dean gives him is a quiet, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods, chastised by Dean’s reaction. “I should get back to work,” he says awkwardly.

Dean mutters something that might be a swear underneath his breath. Raising his voice, he says, his tone apologetic, “’Course. Sorry for keeping you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I,” he pauses, “always enjoy talking to you.”

Dean’s mouth lifts into a small smile, and it’s like the sun rising through the early morning fog. “You too, man.”

* * *

After his next shift, Castiel asks Jo to show him how to make Dean’s apple pie latte.

Castiel’s first attempt is a disaster. He burns the espresso and adds too much nutmeg. Jo makes him try it anyway, as a non-monetary payment for her time. As Castiel gags, a smirking Jo dumps the bitter, weirdly savory mess down the sink.

“Passable,” Jo declares at Castiel’s second try. “You need more of the apple concentrate, though.”

“It’ll be too strong,” Castiel protests even as he shakes more powder in and gives it a stir. He hands it back to Jo for evaluation.

“You could barely taste it!” Jo says. She raises it to her lips. “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

“It is?” Castiel asks hopefully.

Jo nods and pushes the cup towards him. “That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Castiel frowns as the overly sweet apples hit his tongue. He can barely taste the coffee underneath all the other layers.

“Trust me,” Jo says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she sets Castiel up for a third cup. “Your scent’s getting in the way, but it tastes exactly like an apple pie.”

“My scent?” Castiel echoes, baffled.

Jo throws him a look as she pushes a clean coffee cup into his hands. “Yeah, you already smell, I dunno, crisp but sweet? A little like apples. Makes you think the latte dials it up to eleven when it’s more like a nine for everyone else.”

Castiel hadn’t thought to put those pieces together, but it makes an astonishing amount of sense.

He brings his last apple pie latte home to Gabriel, and his cousin makes him write down, step by step, how to make it. In between actual licks into the cup to get the dregs, Gabriel swears to visit him at Hunter’s Café more often.

When Jo next ducks her head into the kitchen to tell Castiel that Dean will swing by in fifteen minutes, Castiel gets to work. He awkwardly sidles behind the front counter and maneuvers around Ruby and Kevin, nearly knocking Kevin’s elbow as Kevin attempts some elaborate leaf pattern.

Castiel draws a rudimentary apple on top of Dean’s latte, and if it looks more like a misshapen mango, nobody will see it but Dean.

For the first time, Castiel heads out to wait for Dean at the mouth of the alley.

Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense for long. He makes his way down the street, shoulders hunched, and head bowed. Gaze fixed on the dirty sidewalk, Dean doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he turns the corner.

Dean isn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat to hide his face, but everyone walks straight past him.

It’s the most riveting performance Castiel has ever seen.

A few steps away, Dean catches sight of him, and it’s like some magic switch is flipped on, and he is Dean Winchester again.

Smiling brightly, he jogs the rest of the distance and follows Castiel as he slinks further back into the alley. Dean wrinkles his nose as they get closer to the dumpsters and the smell of an entire rancid fast food menu hits him. “Hey, Cas,” he says as he takes his latte. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, tipping his head.

Dean stares down oddly at the demented pear and takes a sip. Face going slack with a bliss Castiel doesn’t even need to smell, Dean groans.

Castiel freezes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the apron covering his lower half over his pants. “It’s good?” he tries futilely because Dean is clearly beyond speech.

Dean just gives him a thumbs up as he lowers the cup. He licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Castiel has seen pornography less graphic.

“I might have to tip Jo this time too,” Dean says, staring at the latte in his hand in wonder.

Castiel coughs. “I - I made this one, actually.”

Dean chokes on his next mouthful. “Are you serious?”

Castiel nods because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what exactly will come out. Probably something highly embarrassing.

“This is the best one I’ve ever had,” Dean swears.

Castiel’s whole body heats with the force of his blush. “Thank you. I asked Jo how to make it, since it seems like I’ve taken over your delivery duties.”

Dean grins. “You’re a lot more fun than Jo,” he says lightly, “so I’m not complainin’.”

Castiel didn’t think he could get any redder, but here he is.

After an awkward beat, Dean says, “I think I found my next movie.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugs, but his eyes glimmer with anticipation. “It’s a World War II biopic about an omega who sneaks into the army, disguises himself as an alpha, and rescues a unit trapped behind enemy lines.” He taps his fingers against the side of his half-empty cup. “A little on the nose, but the script is good.”

“It sounds very promising,” Castiel agrees.

“Their biggest problem was the budget - historical pics aren’t cheap. But they think if I sign on early, they can leverage my name with the studio.” He smiles shyly. “Get the movie done right.”

“That’s fantastic,” Castiel says, a delightful warmth filling his chest - still a pale reflection of Dean’s excitement.

“Thanks to you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”

Dean throws him a funny look. “Yeah, you. You told me to get my head outta my ass and movies I actually like doing-”

“Not in so many words-” Castiel interjects, alarmed.

“’Cause the whole point of doing these stupid macho alpha flicks was so I could get the clout and money to do the stuff I actually liked,” Dean continues. “And I kept thinking, can’t do it yet, not there yet, until some rando tells me, fuck yeah you can.”

“I definitely didn’t say that-”

“It was implied,” Dean says blithely, waving off his protests. “So I figured, if this dude who doesn’t know me from Adam-”

“I’ve seen several of your films.”

“- tells me to go for it - it being something I’d thought of doing for years - is there any real reason why I shouldn’t?”

Castiel just stares at him, stunned.

Dean beams. “I’ve got a meeting with the director next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s partially thanks to you,” Dean says, tipping his latte in Castiel’s direction. “I also want to talk about romantic B-plot since I think it’s stupid.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “True mates, bullshit.”

“You think true mates are bullshit?”

As far as Castiel saw online, Dean’s never spoken on the record about true mates or any mates at all. Entertainment news sources reported rumors about him and a one-named alpha singer, Amara, early in his career, which he denounced thoroughly. A few months later, someone published revealing photos of him and an older alpha actor, Fergus Crowley. When asked about it, Dean refused to give details.

Dean makes a face. After a pause, he says, “My parents said they were true mates, but it wasn’t… pretty. No Hollywood romance between them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Dean says in a tone that clearly says it isn’t. “Whenever Dad took off for a few days, I’d get to watch as many movies as I wanted, and - well, the rest is history.”

“I don’t know anyone who’s found their true mate,” Castiel says. His parents had a cold, distant marriage. A few times over the years, he wasn’t sure his mother even liked his father’s scent. Anna happily mated another omega last year, and Gabriel avoids all romantic entanglements like the black plague.

Castiel’s dating history can best be described as dismal. During his last visit to his pediatrician, his doctor called him a “late bloomer” which Castiel eventually realized just meant socially awkward. In the decade since, Castiel’s slept with a grand total of three people. And, to his supreme regret, none of them managed to bring his rusty people skills up to par.

But, in college, Castiel found music and his calling. And all his faults didn’t matter nearly as much.

In the crowd of a concert, people are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they free themselves from individual concerns and devote themselves wholly to the collective. All their fury, their joy, their hunger for what they can’t have, is sublimated into the music.

Castiel has never felt more connected to humanity than in the middle of a crowd.

Truthfully, none of his past relationships ever measured up. None of his past partners ever managed to get Castiel out of his own head - not like the music.

Castiel shakes his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a true mate even if I had one.”

“Have a lot of super sappy sex with the lights on?” Dean offers, laughing.

Castiel frowns. “I wasn’t aware that kind of intercourse was restricted to true mates. I’ve done that in the past since I've always shared an emotional connection with the people I've slept with.”

“Oh,” Dean says, reddening. “Were you mated? Jo didn’t say.”

Inordinately pleased that Dean had asked Jo about him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been mated.”

Dean drains his latte. Swallowing, he says, “Me neither.” He throws the cup in the open dumpster and turns back to Castiel. “I haven’t dated in a while, actually,” he says in a low voice. “Couldn’t risk being seen with an alpha and remind everyone of what I’m not.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Surely people can’t be that close-minded.”

“’Course they can. Most are,” Dean says, his voice full of assurance.

Castiel’s mouth twists. “That sounds like a negativity bias to me.”

“Huh?”

“Negative information sticks with us longer and more strongly than any positive counterpart,” Castiel says with a shrug. “It’s something I always keep in mind when reading my course reviews after the semester is over.”

“So," Dean says, eyes dancing, "you can take the nerd out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the nerd, huh?”

Castiel smiles wryly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Dean laughs. “Look,” he starts, his expression turning a fraction more serious. “I might be fucking up a good thing here, but do you want to go to a Lez Zeppelin show next week?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open as Dean reaches out and pulls out his phone to show him a ticket confirmation email.

“It’s no big if you don’t want to,” Dean says awkwardly into the silence.

“I - I do,” Castiel says, stumbling over the words. “You do?”

“Uh,” Dean throws him a bemused look, “Yeah? I bought the tickets, dude.”

“I’m just surprised,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean stares at him. “This is seriously comin’ out of nowhere for you?”

“A little,” Castiel says defensively.

“Seriously?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “You’re … you. You’re famous. Why would you ask me?”

“Because I like you?” Dean says, nonplussed. “You’re nice in a way a lot of the alphas I know aren’t, and,” he breaks off, reddening, “you said you didn’t mind that I didn’t fit in with other omegas, looks-wise-”

“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean gapes. “Did you seriously -” he breaks off, apparently unable to voice the rest of his thought. His face turns an impressive shade of crimson.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I not have said that?” he asks, brow furrowing. This can’t be the first time Dean has been complimented on his looks. As Castiel understands, good looks are one of the main precursors to acceptance in Hollywood.

“No - I mean, maybe - never mind,” Dean fumbles, more out of sorts than Castiel has ever seen him. “It’s that nobody just out and says that, even to me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “You should look in the mirror sometime, though.” He winks, and Castiel’s brain nearly fritzes out. “So that’s a yes?”

Castiel nods, an all-encompassing warmth filling his chest and exploding out to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I’d love to.”

“It’s a date.”

Read Part II here!

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #profoundnet #rae writes fic #alpha castiel #omega dean winchester #alpha beta omega dynamics #celebrity dean winchester #barista castiel #professor castiel #the original apple pie latte

[huggybearsunshine]

The Few Things: Wedding Day

[Sequel to my series called The Few Things]

A/N: I wasn’t going to write a follow up unless the story really did it justice, and I thought this did. So, hopefully you enjoy it! Link to the original at the bottom!

“What if we rushed this?” Dean adjusted his tie for the fifth time in as many minutes, “What if Cas realized we rushed this and he doesn’t show?”

“Dean, you’ve known each other for over a decade and lived together for years… I don’t think you need to worry about anything feeling rushed…”

“He should be here though, right?” Dean watched as their family began to walk in and find seats for themselves among the litany of mismatched chairs.

Jody blew him a kiss as she and Donna grabbed two of the less rickety chairs from the hodgepodge arranged around the barn.

Dean smiled but suddenly snapped his gaze back to Sam.

“What if Claire got them into something?”

“Dean, breathe,” Sam raised an eyebrow at him, “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Eileen was still adjusting the string lights they had hung up when the rest of the guests filed in.

The space quickly filling with beaming faces, and Dean’s expression softened as he scanned them until he found the one he was looking for.

Blue eyes at the back of the barn captured his as Claire and the Angel slipped in.

Claire wore a gray suit and Cas was looking better than anyone had a right to in all black.

The hunter found it hard to swallow and mortifyingly enough, his vision was clouding over.

He noticed Jody’s eyes on him as Cas began walking toward him, but he couldn’t pull his focus away if he’d wanted to.

He reached Dean, taking a hand in his and kissing Dean’s knuckle as he settled into the spot across from him.

“Hello, Dear,” Cas squeezed his hand as he lowered it between them.

“I was worried you weren’t coming,” the hunter admitted as Claire took her spot next to Cas, grinning from ear to ear as her eyes met with Kaia’s in the crowd.

“I just had to make sure Jack was ready,” his thumb caressed Dean’s hand within his own.

“Here. Ready!” Jack appeared next to them with a smile spreading high up onto his face.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean embraced him warmly before Sam and Cas could do the same, “Thought you were going to be hands off?”

“I made an exception,” the young God softened, “I couldn’t miss this.”

“Glad you did,” Dean ran a hand over his mouth to try and hide the emotion washing over his face, “Wouldn’t have felt right without you.”

“Okay, before I forget the words,” Jack stood taller.

“Aren’t you omniscient now?” Dean smirked and was promptly swatted by the former Angel next to him, “Sorry, do what you gotta do…”

“Okay,” Jack took a steadying breath before his eyes rose to the group watching them, barely a dry eye already, “Welcome, everyone. We have met here today to honor my fathers,” he beamed, “My fathers and the love that they share.”

Castiel’s pride was nearly palpable and also contagious as Dean found his eyes misting over again.

He never would have agreed to doing the whole ceremony thing if he’d known how much of an emotional wreck he was going to be the whole time.

Cas must have noticed too as he felt another squeeze to the hand he still held in his own.

“Dean, would you like to share your vows now?” he found Jack’s gentle yet encouraging eyes on him.

“Yeah, right…” Dean was dreading this part the most but Cas wrote something, pinning him into a corner to either have to write his own or look like a jerk.

He coughed and scratched the back of his neck, pulling a laugh from a few of the guests and Dean eyed them quickly in playful warning.

“Cas,” his eyes returned and he tried to shake off his anxiety, “You managed to get me up here doing the thing I’m worst at, so- thanks for that,” he smirked as Cas’ smile climbed up his cheeks, “And I gotta admit, the idea of talking about how I feel about you like this was terrifying… But then again, you’ve been terrifying me from the start. All stoic and self-righteous.”

“This is supposed to be sweet,” Cas’ face dropped and more of their friends laughed.

“I’m getting there,” Dean winked, “But yeah, I understand why you wanted to do this… ‘cause truth is, I don’t say what’s on my mind enough, and I sure as hell haven’t said enough to you about how incredible you are or how my life without you feels like, well, nothing…” he looked down to let a tear drip off of his cheek and heard Claire sniffling over Cas’ shoulder, “I love you so much, Cas. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you for always seeing the good in me… thank you for taking the time to look for it.”

Dean looked down before his eyes rose again and a supportive nudge from his brother had him clearing his throat to continue.

“I’ve never been convinced that I deserve this, but I’m going to try to every day for the rest of our lives because that’s what you deserve.”

He finally turned to see Jack’s sweet smile aimed toward him.

He nodded and Jack returned the motion.

“Castiel, would you like to share your vows now?” the boy asked with a raised brow, and Cas nodded as his eyes dropped to his feet nervously.

“Dean,” he handled the word as if it were sacred and let it linger like it deserved its own sentence, “I didn’t know what love was before I met you… even after I started to feel it,” his brow furrowed adorably as he spoke, “In fact, I think you and I were the last to realize what it was that was happening to us…”

“Other than Jody,” Dean glanced teasingly toward her.

“Other than Jody,” Cas agreed adoringly, “But I didn’t realize the significance of my feelings for you until it was too late. My heart was so full of you I could hardly call it my own,” he softened, reaching for Dean’s cheek.

“Cas,” Dean melted into the touch.

“You taught me many things, Dean,” Cas’ eyes watered as he spoke, glassing over more and more with each word, “But learning how to love, learning how to fall in love with you… has been the most life-altering and precious experience of my existence.“

“Damn…” Dean looked at Cas as if there were no one else in the room but them, “I thought my speech was good…”

“Not a speech, Dean,” Cas’ lips tilted up, “A vow.”

“Right,” he absentmindedly inched forward, lost in Cas’ teary, blue eyes.

“Might wanna get rings on them or they’re going to skip the next few parts,” Sam joked with Jack, who grinned brightly.

Dean looked over his shoulder quickly before letting out a soft laugh and accepting the ring Sam slapped against his chest in fond amusement.

Cas thanked Claire quietly before the two were facing one another again.

They slipped them onto the other’s finger with little showmanship. Just a simple action bringing a warm smile to their faces as they did it.

“I pronounce you married,” Jack announced excitedly, “You may kiss now.”

They laughed as they each stepped in, reaching forward and finding the other going willingly into the embrace. Their lips met and the sound of cheers and whistles blurred their senses for a short moment of absolutely indulgent happiness.

Dean was glowing as he pulled back, and in a sudden need to be close to him, found himself leaning in to wrap an arm around Cas’ waist.

“I love you,” he whispered into the Angel’s ear softly before kissing him on the cheek and turning toward his family’s awaiting gaze, “Let’s fucking celebrate!”

“Alright,” Sam clapped him on the shoulder.

“Drinks!” he threw his arms up.

“Okay, what are you? A Viking?” Sam laughed as he pushed passed to grab drinks for the wedding party.

Dean turned to the most open emotion he had ever seen in the Angel’s eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Dean laughed, “I’ve been barely holding it together this whole time!”

“Can I just…” Cas looked overwhelmed, “Can I kiss you again?”

“Cas, you’re my husband,” Dean wrapped his arms around him, “I don’t think you really have to ask.”

As soon as the words fell, Cas shot forward, and Dean’s hands settled over the former Angel’s face, barely containing a smile as they kissed.

“I love you,” the hunter whispered as their lips parted, foreheads bumping together lightly.

He couldn’t seem to stop saying it, but judging by Cas’ expression, that wasn’t a problem for him.

“I love you too,” Cas reached for the back of his neck, tilting up to press a small peck to the other man’s temple before reluctantly stepping back.

“Okay, here we go,” Sam announced as he ascended the makeshift stage and began handing out drinks.

“I’d like to say a few things,” Sam addressed the group awkwardly, brows raising upward to give him a nervous sort of boyish look, “Dean and Cas have always excelled at nonverbal communication-”

“We don’t stare that much!” Dean interrupted, but Sam was ready.

“Yes, you do,” he brushed him off quickly, “And watching that for years, I have picked up on something about them,” he looked back at the pair fondly, “No one sees Dean like Cas does, and I hope I don’t sign my own death warrant saying this, but,” he looked straight at his brother as he added, “I think that’s exactly what Dean has always needed. Someone to see through the mask and the bravado and just… see the real him,” Sam took a few steps to the other side of the stage, “I won’t lie, Cas and I were slower to build- mostly because I was… we’ll just say ‘not my best’, but I couldn’t ask for a better brother-in-law, a better friend… He’s always brought out the best in Dean, always believed in him- sometimes when no one else did… sometimes when no one else would- but that’s what always got him where he needed to be. It’s no secret that Dean and I have been through it. We don’t get many good things and when we do, we rarely get to keep them,” his eyes found Eileen’s and she smiled softly, “Love was never something either of us allowed ourselves to want, but we somehow got there anyway, and I don’t think I ever said it, but I want to thank you, Cas- thank you for loving my big brother and for never giving up on him,” he locked eyes with the misty, blue gaze and a tear slipped down his own cheek unguarded, “To Cas, and to Dean, and to finally using your damn words…”

He chuckled as he held his glass up, first to the couple then toward the rest.

“Cheers,” he added with a quick flash of a smile before the drink rising to his lips obscured it.

“And to everyone’s horror- especially my own- it’s my turn,” Claire grimaced and the rest laughed, “Ughhh I should kill you for this…” she flashed a quick and exaggeratedly fake smile their way.

Turning back to the page in her hand, she cleared her throat, “I like to credit myself for Cas and Dean getting their heads out of their asses. Not only did I literally push them into their first kiss-“

“We don’t count that one!” Dean laughed.

“You’ve got the picture in your wallet, don’t lie,” she shot back, “Anyway, not only did I do that, but I’m pretty sure I got them together, and then I blackmailed Dean into proposing while I was still visiting instead of waiting. So, really, this should be a celebration for me finally getting these two to stop making googly-eyes and do something about it!” everyone laughed and she turned to them with a growing sincerity, “But honestly, I’ve never seen either of you this happy before, and it’s just crazy to be here after everything…”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean met her gaze with understanding as Cas tightened his hold around the hunter’s waist.

“To Cas and Dean,” she shook off the emotion brewing within and turned a toothy smile to the rest before downing her whole drink.

Charlie started up some music from a sound system in the corner and Dean turned a cocky smirk toward Cas.

“Ready to dance?” his voice dropped low, pulling an adoring gaze from the other man.

“I told you, I didn’t want to,” Cas sighed, “But I can’t deny my husband on our wedding day…”

Dean pulled him in as they reached the area of the barn behind the seating that was cleared.

“I love hearing you say that,” he practically growled into Cas’ ear.

“Mmm,” Cas hummed, “We have a long time until we make it back home, getting worked up now would be torture.”

“Who said I was getting worked up?” Dean grinned as they swayed to the music.

“I was referring to myself,” Cas gravelled.

“Well, now I’m getting worked up,” Dean’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“Hold that thought,” Cas leaned in, pressing his lips to Dean’s for a moment as they continued to move slowly, getting lost in their own world until the music stopped and the group clapped joyously around them.

The next hour was a bit of a blur as everyone approached the pair to wish them well or what was more often the case, tease them a bit, until they found themselves seated at a table together. Their fingers were laced and Dean’s arm was slung around Cas’ shoulder.

“What are you thinking?” he asked as the former Angel rubbed circles on his hand with his thumb.

“I’m just trying to take it all in,” Cas found his gaze, “I don’t want to forget anything…”

“You don’t forget things,” Dean’s lips pressed softly to Cas’ shoulder.

“I’m human now, though…” his voice quieted, “I just don’t want to forget any of this…”

The look in his eye was so earnest and sweet, but twinged at the corners with actual fear. Dean found himself looking around.

“Patience! Alex!” he called to the girls seated nearby, “Got your phones?”

The two nodded and fished them out of their bags.

“Cool,” he nodded with a sideways smile, “Film everything…”

The pair of girls jumped up with a purpose as Cas’ eyes cut toward him in surprise.

“If you start to forget, we’ll have it to watch…” Dean remarked softly, “As many times as you want.”

“Dean,” the former Angel melted.

“Now, come on…” he pulled the other to his feet, “Let’s dance.”

———————

@spuffy-destiel Thank you so much for your help with this! I wouldn’t have posted it without your encouragement and ideas! My forever muse! 💚@destieliscanon5nov

#dean winchester #castiel #the few things #sequel #sam winchester #jack kline #jack winchester #claire novak #eileen leahy #jody mills #donna hanscum #kaia nieves #alex jones #patience turner #castiel x dean #destiel #deancas #deancas fanfic #deancas fic #spn #supernatural #soft dean #nervous Dean #castiel is loved #Dean Winchester is loved #wedding fic #Castiel is a romantic

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Destiel Month, 9 Nov.: Sunshine

He waved up at the leaves. "You're putting on a real show, huh, buddy?" 

deancas ust

"Oh, hi, hey, heyyyy. There you are." 

Dean stumbled backwards over a multitude of hidden roots and a skiff of loose acorns and his back hit the trunk of an immense tree. One of those, um, maples or oaks. He looked up into the canopy and slid down onto his butt while staring up in breathless awe. After a minute, he remembered he was a creature dependent on oxygen and took a big, gulping breath.

He waved up at the leaves. "You're putting on a real show, huh, buddy?" 

The leaves seemed to return the wave, rippling to show their paler bellies as a breeze tossed the branches to and fro. 

"You'll be proud of me, Cas." Dean winked upwards. "I am just gonna sit right here with you and wait for Sam to show up. Don't keep moving around. That's what they tell Boy Scouts, right? And probably Girl Scouts too. No discrimination here, every kid deserves a chance to learn how to cook potatoes under burning embers or catch a fish using old shoelaces or whatever MacGyver shit they teach scouts these days." He snorted a laugh. "Probably something about how to sell more cookies by going viral on the YouTubes." 

An acorn fell out of one of the nearby trees and caught his attention as it bounced into the leaf litter covering most of the forest floor. He waited, in full suspense, as a gray squirrel came over and started scratching around in the leaves near where the acorn had landed.

"Good," he called out to the squirrel. "It's under there somewhere. Winter's coming."

He thought of something. "Hey, Cas. You ever finish the second season of Game of Thrones?" 

Spider web silk somewhere on his neck was driving him crazy. He scrubbed at himself for a few seconds and gave up.

"But anyway, Cas," Dean said. "We might be here a while. 'Cause my phone's crapped out and I don't exactly know where we left Sam. Somewhere around the creek? Or the stream that feeds into the creek?" Legs outstretched, he rubbed his boot heels in the leaves and enjoyed their crunchiness. "That rickety bridge that goes from one side of the ravine to the other?" 

After crumbling them in his hands, he tossed a few crispy leaves in the air; they floated around like confetti.

He looked up, up, up. Sunshine lit the canopy in gold, emerald, bronze, crimson, copper, peridot. Beyond that the sky was exactly the shade people meant when they said sky blue. Blue as jay feathers, blue as Cas's eyes.

All of Cas's eyes even, maybe.

"Cas, you're killing me here, man. It's too much. I could look at you all day and never figure out all these colors." Dean grinned and raised up his hands. "I don't know how you do it." He sighed, feeling dreamy and dazzled about his best friend. "You're gorgeous. And I don't wanna get in trouble for saying this, but you are not as tall as the Chrysler building. I mean, don't get me wrong, you are very taller. Taller than Sam for sure, which is what counts."

He let his hands drop to his lap. Oh, it was a nice day. Nice and cool. He and Cas were hanging out, he wasn't thirsty, he didn't need to pee, he hadn't given himself a heel blister, and he could still smell the smoke from the little fire by the entrance of that funky little shack, all the way out here in the woods. Mmm, such a spicy scent, like pine needles and something musty. Salty, like warm skin.

"I think," Dean said, "when we are back home and you are normal sized, we should–" A sharp pain stabbed him right above his eyebrow. "We should– Ow, fuck."

He squinted and rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands. "Cas? Hey, do you think you could come down here now?" He recognized his voice growing fainter, as if keeping pace with the failing light. "Could you… Cas…?"

-

He awoke in a detonation of sunlight, concentrated down to the tips of Cas's fingers pressed against his temple. 

"Dean?" Cas was repeating his name, sounding frantic.

Dean opened his eyes to Cas's worried face mere inches from his, and Cas on his knees in the leaves. 

"Ohhhh. You're just a little guy again."

Cas's frown didn't evaporate but it did evolve. "What do you mean?" He put one hand on Dean's shoulder and tipped up Dean's chin with his other hand. "Your pupils are still very dilated."

"It's okay." Dean nodded. "Sam'll catch up to us eventually."

"Right here, dude." Sam appeared from nothingness, or possibly from behind a young birch, and squatted down beside Cas. "We gonna be able to walk him out of here?"

Dean squinted up at them. "I can walk."

"Yeah, but can you stand?" Sam grasped Dean's wrists and hauled himself and Dean to their respective feet. 

"Oooooof." Dean swayed, or Sam swayed, or the trees swayed. There was a lot of fucking swaying, was Dean's point.

Cas touched the crook of Dean's arm; the world righted itself instantly.

"Better?" Cas asked. He was standing too close as usual. His gaze was so piercing Dean nearly felt it pinch the back of his own skull.

"Better." A leaf the same hue as new pennies was caught in Cas's collar and Dean brushed it away, his fingertips grazing Cas's throat. Dean swallowed. "So, uh. I guess I'm the only one who got lost, huh?"

"Only for a few minutes," Cas said.

"Several," Sam muttered. "Almost an hour."

"And you took care of whatever the fuck was living in that shack?" Dean asked.

"He did," Sam said, tipping his head at Cas.

"It did not take much effort to obliterate the creature's attempts to lure you and probably devour you at a later date." Cas wore a modest expression. "Afterwards, you talking to me helped us pinpoint you." He looked around and up and down again at Dean. "We're quite far off the marked trail." 

He held Dean's gaze in a particular way – with tenderness, Dean realized.

Dean smiled softly at him. "Well, I wasn't worried. I knew you'd find me."

Cas smiled back, softly.

Sam rolled his eyes and moosed away in some direction, possibly bound for the aforementioned trail. Once he was many fallen logs away, he yelled back, "I'm leaving you both here if you're not at the car when I am."

Dean took Cas's hand in his own. It would be easier, after all, for them to not get separated again that way.

[ID: A canopy of autumn trees in orange, green, red, and yellow colors, photographed in southern Indiana, October 2022. End ID]

#destielmonth22 #deancas #destiel #spn #fic #snippetfic #destielmonth

[sir-elyan]

for @ickyv29​ ‘s prompt: Claire taking Jack out of the bunker so Cas and Dean can set up a surprise party? Chaos ensues. 

here you go !! jack looks like he’s in his teens for this one, but he did that just to hang out w claire god bles <3 also falls into transnatural,, you’ll see why (^:

It’s always spooky seeing Jack age up in front of her very eyes. One second he’s practically just a step up from a toddler, and the next, Jack is taller than Claire and wearing the exact same goofy smile on his face.

She supposes the one good thing that comes out of it is that none of them have to guess at what he’ll look like in the future when he’s older. He still looks just the same as he does when he’s three feet tall or whatever, except that maybe he seems a little calmer, and Claire feels a little more comfortable talking to him as if they’re friends rather than...half...step...siblings? 

Which is why she agrees to take care of him for the day, with the intention of showing him her favorite “grown up” spots, though she promises Dean that everything they’re doing will be kosher.

It’s not.

“Okay Jack,” Claire claps a hand on his shoulder, much sturdier than the one she’s used to poking at when they’re playing with legos on the Bunker floor. “Are you ready to be a big kid now?”

He nods fervently and she smiles, pulling a little on his shirt sleeve so that he’ll follow her into the mall.

The grown up spots she intends to take Jack to are mild, at best. She just thinks he should be able to get the full teenage experience, even if she never really did, and he isn’t really a teen. 

The first place they stop at is Claire’s, rightfully so. Jack, like everyone else she has ever known, points at the sign and nudges her. She expects the usual comment about “they named you after the store,” but instead he says, “They named the store after you,” and she nods her head in agreement.

“Sure did,” she says, “how do you feel about getting your ears pierced?”

They step inside, and Jack takes in all the rows of merchandise. “Pierced? Won’t Dad and Dee and Sam get mad?” 

Claire shrugs, watching Jack’s eyes light up when he sees the over-the-top girly accessories. “No big deal, you can always just heal the holes right up with your super powers, can’t you?” 

She calls Jack’s nephil magic “super powers” to please him, under the guise that it makes more sense to passerby if she’s talking to a four year old about super powers rather than angel mojo. 

It does the job, so he agrees, and the next thing she knows, they’re walking out of Claire’s with a bag full of flowery headwear and Jack’s two pierced ears.

Claire would be lying if she said her heart wasn’t racing thinking about the potential lecture she’d receive from Jack’s dads. But it was worth it to see Jack look at her like she hung the moon, a hand constantly raising to touch tentatively at his ears. 

“Next up,” she announces, “mani-pedis.”

“What’s that?”

Claire holds out her hand, chipped with black nail polish. “Nail painting. You’re gonna love it.”

She’s not really the type to get a manicure—in fact, Claire’s probably only had one in her life when she was like eight—but half of these (all of these) activities are more so to cater to Jack on his birthday, and the stuff he’d enjoy (and also whatever would piss off Dean the most).

And she’s right—Jack loves the little foot bath with the fancy water jets, and giggles the whole time the lady is scrubbing at his feet and nails. He enthusiastically asks for rainbow colors (a different color on each finger and toe), and Claire has to explain that he’s gotta wait patiently for them to dry or else they’ll get messed up.

“Do you like the rainbows?” Jack asks, showing them to her when they leave. She gets a feeling there’s a certain importance to the question that she’s missing, but she nods and gives him a careful fist bump. “Rainbows are sick,” she says.

“Sick,” Jack repeats, “that’s not good. Do they need medicine? What do they have?”

Claire snorts and waves him off, “No, dummy. Sick like...’cool.’”

“Ohhh,” Jack visually internalizes that thought for safekeeping, “sick.”

Claire checks her phone while they stuff their faces with mall pizza, quickly answering Kaia’s messages with a smile, assuring Jody that all is well, and sending Dean snarky comments about their surprise party taking forever to set up.

She sets her phone down to pay attention to Jack again, only to find him staring at her already, a contemplative look in his face.

“Uh...do I have food on my face or something?”

Jack shakes his head. “I had a...question.”

Oh. She leans her elbows on the table, crossing her forearms. “Okay, shoot.”

“You like girls,” he starts, and she hides an amused smirk, “and Dad and Dee like each other...but. I don’t like anybody yet because I’m not old enough and I don’t know anyone my age.”

You’re also a four year old half-angel being that’s presenting like he’s eighteen, she wants to supply, but Claire only shrugs. “You don’t gotta like anybody kiddo. Sometimes people just want friends, and that’s fine.”

He nods seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay. But what about... me?”

“What about you?”

“Well I’m...I like boy things,” he says, “but I like girl things too. Does that mean I’m like Dee?”

“Bisexual?” Claire supplies, and then scrunches her face up a little, “like you said, bud, I think you’re too young to tell--”

“I know,” he chirps, and then studies his nails. “I don’t mean like that. I mean...I like those things... for me. Like, tutus and capes and man-ee-cures, and cowboy hats.”

Claire takes a second to think it over, and then it all clicks. “Oh! You mean your gender, right?”

“I think so,” he says. 

“Well all that stuff you listed has to do with gender expression. And really, anyone can dress or look however they want, regardless of pronouns or orientation. But...put it this way, would it make you feel better if people referred to you as ‘she’ and ‘her?’“

Jack shakes his head. “No...”

“Do you like ‘he’ and ‘him’?” A nod. “What about ‘they’ and ‘them’?” There’s a pause, Jack mulling it over, before he nods.

“Is it okay to have more than one?” 

“Totally okay.”

“Then yes,” they sit straighter, “I like both.”

“Cool,” Claire smiles, holding up a fist for another fist bump. Jack knocks their knuckles against hers. 

“Sick,” he agrees. 

Just then her phone starts to buzz, lighting up with a text from Cas that says ‘we’re done. you can come back now (:’ 

She looks back up at Jack with their pierced ears and rainbow nail polish.

“On second thought,” she says, standing and offering her hand, “I think they’ll love it.”

#i hope its okay i just screenshotted and tagged you! i like your second prompt and i might wanna write it later too (': #roc original #prompt fill #bookshelf #b*gen #creativecaviar #nougatparty #happy birthday jack !! #transnatural #he is 4 he is 18 he is half angel half human he/they supremacy #b*trans #rambleoncas writing #iiiii idk who to tag for this one lmao let me know if youd rather not be ! #usershey #daintydean #spnclownpals #scottstiles

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

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“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

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They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

#tw: dysphoria #trans dean #destiel #deancas #ftm dean #transmasc dean #fanfic #dean is trans #my writing #mine