#and cas is totally into weird stuff i am sure of that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

macstarli · 1 year

Note

Hi beloved mutual! What would you pick as your five or so favorite Rory/Logan scenes and why?! What do you see as their main similarities and complementary differences? What kind of parent do you think Rory and Logan would each be to their child? And, finally, what are a few unpopular opinions you have about Rory and Logan separately or together? (One of mine is that I still like both of them tremendously despite their flaws, lol)

Hi! This is going to be interesting, because it's actually been a while since I've watched Gilmore Girls, so there's no way it's gonna be comprehensive in any way, but I'll have fun thinking about it.

Some favorite moments... I really like the conversation they have in season 7 after Rory has her "crush" on that professor(?). It just feels really mature and healthy. I love how completely unfazed Logan is by all of it and how sure he is, that he belongs with and that as long as she's sure she belongs with him, it's all fine. And I like that he apologizes for an earlier fight and takes accountability for the fact, that maybe he didn't handle that great, but that was on him and not on her and it shouldn't make her feel weird. I have some thoughts on that earlier argument, but absolutely, he didn't handle it perfectly. Sometimes emotions get the better of us and we do things we shouldn't. And while emotions themselves can't really be wrong, the way we act on them definitely can be, so it's good to own up to that and apologize. It's a good basis for a healthy relationship, because adressing it and genuinly apologizing for it allows both parties to actually move past it, rather than letting it fester and gradually turn into something bigger.

I also really like the scene in the beginning of Vineyard Valentine. Actually I really like most of their scenes in that episode. I know people have some thoughts on it, because of Luke and I'm not arguing the writing isn't heavy-handed, but the Rory and Logan parts are very nice. You can just feel the way they fit together and how well they know each other. They're different, but in a way that goes really well together and they're both kind of amused by and fond of their differences. And it's really sweet (and again, healthy) that Logan is so genuinely cool with taking Lorelai and Luke. He knows how close Rory is to her mum and he doesn't mind at all. He doesn't complain about having to share his time with her family or having to make an effort to get along with them. This is important to Rory, more than than it is a part of Rory, so of course this is now a part of his life too. It's just a given for him and as long as he also gets some time with her, it's all good.

Random scene I really like is in Season 5, when he calls her after he's come back early from spring break. First of all, it's very obvious that he's just in that phase of "i really like you and i just wanna spent time with you" (that phrase was a total accidental quote by the way) and so is she obviously based on her reaction and it's just so cute. And you can see in their earlier scene that episode and during their phone call why. They have fun together. They tease each other and argue about stupid stuff and they're so smiley during all of it. They genuinely have so much fun just the two of them being together and I think that's a big part of being in a relationship.

I love Rory making a big deal over his birthday in season 7. It makes so much sense that growing up Logan would never be celebrated for being himself, but only ever for achieving and even there I'd guess rather sparingly. So it's so sweet that Rory very explitly goes "you existing is a big deal and I am so glad you do. Not because you did something, not because you gave me something. But just because you being who you are is fantastic and it makes my life better". I have a headcanon, that Logan is superfically very confident, because there's a lot of things he's sure of. He knows he has the family name, the family money, good looks and he can be very charming. And for most people all of that together is more than enough, so he very happily moves through life certain in the knowledge that he'll be fine. But I think one thing he learns during his relationship with Rory is to actually just be confident in himself without all of those more superficial trappings and maybe even find out who that actually is and what he wants out of life. So it's really great for Rory to basically go "we need to celebrate YOU. Just YOU. Because despite everything you were told growing up, you are definitely worth it." And because I now can't stop thinking about it, I need to mention that the song 'Sweet Nothing' by Taylor Swift really makes me think of them.

Now their similiarites... They both really enjoy "arguing" about silly stuff. They enjoy the back and forth, the clever quips and getting one over on each other.

I think they want a lot of the same things out of life and I think they both really anchor to each other when they get together. I know how they end originally, but I think apart from that you really see them hold on to each other quite strongly and for different reasons they end up being a very safe and secure place for each other, which is something they maybe weren't conciously looking for, but both still really wanted. Generally speaking I would say once they actually get together, they have very similar ideas of what their relationship is and what they want out of a relationship.

Their main complementary difference I would say is that Rory is fairly tightly wound whereas Logan tends towards being more laid back. And that Rory relax and breath a bit, have some fun, let go of some the things she's been carrying around for some time a very long time. He naturally pulls her into new experiences, that she'd shy away from by herself, because he's the one who goes looking for them and she tends to really enjoy that. I think partly, because she learns fairly quickly, that she's safe with him, so there's less reason to be anxious when he's with her and she can just let go for a bit.

On the flip side, I think Rory gives Logan some much needed structure in his life, because she's there and she's doing her thing and he wants to a part of it and that means he needs to make space and time for her things to fit in and I think he finds he actually really enjoys it. He's enjoying being being accountable to someone other than himself, because it's her, and he's enjoying taking a beat sometimes and just being home with her and a good book, even if it isn't his most natural inclination. And I think he's really surprised by that, because with his parents structure was always a really painful, restricting thing, which is why he spent so much time rebelling against it, and this feels really... different.

As to how they would parent themselves... I don't know. I think Rory would tend toward being anxious. Both when the kids are little and she'd squeeze Logans hand a lot, when they climb up and down stuff and start really exploring and jumping off of things and all those lovely things. Because she knows they need to do it, but it'd still be hard for her to watch them do something potentially dangerous. And when they get older, I think she'd tend towards being anxious for their future and how they're coping with the general and more specific difficulites that life brings. And I think that would make her want to meddle or just be very involved in certain things because she wants to help. Not too disimilar from Lorelai and Emily actually in some way.

I think Logan would be good at keeping her calm-ish (see above) and reminding her that this is just life and she can't hold on to too tight because it's not good for anyone involved. I think something he'd really struggle with is trying to figure out how to "discipline" his children, because I don't think he has ever really seen that done in a healthy way that he could model himself after. He just knows that the way things worked in his family definitely isn't how he wants to do it. I think he also knows that while he had been far too restricted in some way, he'd also had way too much "freedom" (others might call it neglect) in others and that's why a lot of things didn't klick for him until he met Rory and while I don't think he minds his "misspent youth" (he certainly had a good time misspending a lot of it) I don't think he would want his kids to celebrate getting kicked out of every possible boarding school. So finding a healthy middle ground and where to set boundaries and how to deal with a kid that probably doesn't always love those boundaries, even if it needs them, without feeling like he's being his dad will probably take some working through of issues.

I think one big issue they would have to deal with as parents together is money. Because it's gonna be there. They're gonna have money. Lots of it. And that's gonna be the enviroment their kids grow up in. And Logan know what a childhood and young adulthood with unvettered access to lots and lots of money is like. And while again, he'd definitely say he had a good time with all that money, as an adult he'd probably also knows, that it wasn't very sound parenting. At the same time I don't think he'd be for artifically restricting their kids access to money. I think Rory is really going to struggle with her view of trustfund babies and what it means to grow up in high society with lots and lots of money and is going to be a bit uncomfortable with her kids growing up very well of. I don't think that's going to be an issue for Logan, he doesn't think the having money and spending money by itself is the problem, it's everything surrounding it. So he definitely wouldn't want to give his kids unlimited access to the family bank account, but I don't think he'd mind them having credit cards when they got older and treating themselves occasionally to expensive things, he'd just want to be sure to still teach that money means something, that earning money also means something (or maybe more, that having a purpose whether it makes money or not means something), and that there are still things they can't just have simply because they think they want them. So that having patience and being able to prioritze and to weigh their wants and desires against each other are still skills they learn, because you're going to need them in life.

I don't really know which of my opinions are unpopular, so this is going to be really hard.

I think Logan had a lot of really good reasons leading up to his proposal to assume they were on the same page. Is that unpopular? And kind of based on that, I can't really blame him for walking away when Rory said no. That definitely feels like an unpopular opinion. I made a long post on a forum about this ages ago, but basically, I don't think he's actually the one who turned it into an all or nothing thing. I think that was actually Rory. Because she was the one who knew she was going to say no, who knew she going to say they were going to be long distance again, and other than saying yeah, sorry, I don't want this. You're kind of holding me back, actually. She doesn't really have anything else prepared. She's giving him a really big rejection, not just with saying no to marrying him, but by saying no to coming to San Francisco (and again, I think he has really good reasons for thinking their on the same page here, so I get why he is blind sided by all of it) despite the fact that right now she doesn't have anything else lined up. She just doesn't wanna be tied to him like that. She'd rather be on the east coast by herself figuring it out, than on the west coast with him figuring it out, because that might mean she has to think about him and their relationship and she just doesn't want that. And I don't think she's giving him a whole lot to convice him, that despite that she still loves him the way he loves her, that she still sees their future together the way she has said she does and that there is an actual concrete plan for getting there. She's not saying, ask me again in a year. In two years. She isn't saying, I wanna do things and go places, but I want my home base to be you. So let's go to San Francisco and build a home together there and also let me explore things somewhere else, knowing I'll come back to you and what we're building. And then there isn't really a lot of middle ground. Because he wants to build something with her and she doesn't. She wants to just be responsible for herself and no one else. And that's fine. But it's not really a relationship is it? So I get kinda frustrated when she knows what she's saying, she know's he's gonna be hurt and feel incredible unloved and rejected and yet it's somehow his job to have a back-up plan ready for them? He had a plan. He told her what he wanted. She said no. And again, that's perfectly fine. She apparently wasn't in a place to commit to someone else and that is entirely valid. But she doesn't offer a counter plan for what she does want. He's the one who says, what we'll do just do long-distance, seeing each other occasionally for the unforseeable future, because she hasn't given him anything else. And she weakly nods and says we've done it before. She doesn't try to convice him, tell him how much she wants to make this work, tell him she'll make time, to have room for her in his place, because she's going to be there, even if it isn't all the time. She doesn't offer anything, despite the fact that unlike him she's had all night to think about what comes after the no she knew she was going to give. And I think that means she didn't have anything to offer. She just didn't have room for him in her life. And I think it's fair, that after she just said no to his proposal, he then didn't start asking for something less so she can say no again. "Okay, let's not get engaged, just come to San Francisco" "No, I don't wanna be tied down by you." "Okay, let's do long-distance, but let's have an end date in sight" "No, I don't wanna be tied down by you." If she wanted any of those things, any kind of middle ground that was still something resembling the actual relationship they were already having, she could have offered it. But she didn't. And that left them with all or nothing. Because that's what she was offering that moment. Nothing and the vague hope that eventually at some point she'd be ready for something. And that's my unpopular opinion on the two of them together.

I'm not sure I have unpopular opinions on them individually, they tend to be very linked in my head.

Anyway, thanks so much for sending this, I had a really good time trying to come up with some decent answers :)

#ask #logan huntzberger #gilmore girls #rory x logan #logan x rory #rory gilmore #long #rogan

16 notes · View notes

geektasticjustine · 5 months

Text

Review: Glass Kanin

I am so excited, friends, because I have been waiting to share this with you. If you follow my newsletter, you would know that I recently proofread a book that unexpectedly became a favorite. And I’m not going to lie to you. It was unexpected. Because this book was about a sentient bottle of ink, and I know I like weird stuff, but I wasn’t sure how a writer could follow a bottle of ink for a full novel-length story. But I went with it, because Kia Leep, the author, is a good friend…and also, she paid me to proofread it. So why not, right? Well, let me tell you a little about Glass Kanin by Kia Leep—this book is excellent. I’ve never read a book in the LitRPG genre, and I’m not that big of a fan of Isekai manga or anime, and this book is both of those things. This book made me want to check out more of both. Glass Kanin follows actor Kanin Reed, who dies in a freak stunt accident on the set of his television show and wakes up as a sentient glass bottle in a world he doesn’t understand. But he isn’t alone. With him is Noli, an enthusiastic and friendly elf, whose soul has somehow also ended up where it didn’t belong—a toy octopus-like…thing. Thankfully, she knows where they are. But that doesn’t answer the way more important question…how do they get out? With brilliant storytelling and a killer voice, we follow Kanin through the trials and tribulations of a particularly interesting bottle of ink as he tries to figure out how the hell he ended up in a world like this one. You can read Glass Kanin now, as a serial, released on Royal Road. And you totally should.

#litrpg #isekai #royal road #book review #book reccs #book recommendations #fantasy

0 notes

fraddit · 2 years

Text

This is the first post in a series of three about Buck's apartment on 9-1-1.

Part two is here and part three is here | Eddie’s house

Here we go! Buck’s loft! Right, well, just a heads up, this post is probably going to be more information than anyone other than me would want, because Buck’s loft is maybe my favorite set on the show. It cannot be overstated how much I am in love with it. Which I'm sure will become very clear within a few paragraphs. But anyway, let’s get started!

So, here we have the birds eye view of the floorplan as a whole, both the downstairs and upstairs. At least on desktop, that image is 4k, so you should be able to zoom in and look around at stuff.

The first thing is, like Eddie’s house, Buck’s loft in s2 is a real actual apartment, and in s3 onward, it is a built set. I’ve recreated the set version for this post.

However, the set loft is very intentionally based on the s2 apartment, with some marked changes that I’ll discuss throughout these posts. Looking at details from the interior shots from s2, my immediate assumptions were that this is a historic building that has been converted to residential use. The style and age of the brickwork, the obviously old marble flooring, the two story height space, the moldings, the columns, and gorgeously huge windows all lead me to believe that this building was originally an office or retail building from the early 1900s.

The parts of this apartment that make it a residential apartment: the steel constructed loft bedroom, the stairs, the kitchen, the interior walls and doors, etc, all look like work that was done in the 2000s.

So, with all of that in mind, my assumption is that Buck’s apartment is located in a specific area of downtown LA called the Historic Core. This is a district in the heart of downtown, comprised of historic office, retail, and bank buildings that were built primarily between 1907 and 1931. And, importantly, an ordinance was passed in 1999 that allowed for those buildings to be rezoned and renovated for residential use.

All of that, plus the backdrop of tall buildings outside his windows and balcony, plus the establishing shots that are used before scenes in Buck’s loft, lead me to believe that my placement of his apartment in the Historic Core is what the show intends to be saying about where Buck lives.

Here are some of the establishing shots used (and a shot of Eddie with the high-rise buildings behind him). They’re mostly from season 5. For some reason, they weren’t big on this method of scene transition to Buck’s place in the earlier seasons. But three of these shots are of buildings that are directly in the historic core. The top right shot is actually in the Financial District, which touches the Historic Core, and that shot is actually looking *into* the Historic Core. So, I feel comfortable assuming that’s what they want the audience to think.

Now, I was totally ready to just leave it at that, but when I was looking up rental prices for equivalent apartments in that location… I actually found the real, actual building that was used for the s2 scenes and, then with more digging, the actual unit that was used.

Here it is! This is 460 S Spring St #104, Los Angeles, CA 90013. This unit is actually available for temporary lease for shooting in on giggster.com. It’s $500/hr with an 8 hour minimum, if you’re curious. But someone does actually live there, so don’t be weird and try to go there or anything. The above photos are from an old real estate listing from 2016.

And sure enough, this place is located in the Historic Core. It’s called the Rowan Building. Which, I love it when buildings have names, and I love it when buildings that didn’t start life as residential buildings become such, and basically, I love this building and did too much research about it, and you’re gonna hear about it now. (But actually I promise I’m leaving stuff out, and sorry in advance for it still being so much)

Anyway, here is a map of downtown Los Angeles. The highlighted section is the Historic Core. The blue star is the Rowan. The orange star is Michael’s apartment. The gray star in the highlighted area is the, as labeled, Eastern Columbia Lofts (another historic building turned residential), which is the beautiful teal building you can see in two of the establishing shots above.

“Wait, what’s that red star over there?” you might be wondering. Well, Buck’s apartment wasn’t the only shooting location I found during this project. And I’ve got a separate post all about that. Enjoy.

I don’t know if we’ve ever gotten Buck’s address in the show? If we have, let me know. But, anyway, I’d say that Buck’s loft is not necessarily located in the same place as the Rowan. (Actually it’s physically impossible for the set that is Buck’s loft to exist in the building that is the Rowan, because of the balconies.) But, I feel comfortable landing on it being somewhere in the Historic Core and in a building like the Rowan.

(Just a heads up, I’ve got info and maps about the location of Buck’s loft in relation to Eddie’s house at the end of Part 3, but ran out of images for this post.)

So, about the building… the Rowan is a beaux arts style building built in 1911 and began life as the Title Insurance Building. It’s a 13 story L shaped building with an interesting internal courtyard feature that allows more daylight into several of the apartments.

Here are some exterior shots. The facade is clad in brick and terracotta. The unit that played Buck’s apartment is on the back side, on the ground floor. I’ve outlined it in the bottom right shot.

The bottom level houses the lobby, and also retail. Which I’m sure is convenient. Actually, this part of downtown is the second most walkable area in all of LA, with a walk score of 98. Spring Street is also home to several art galleries, and before the pandemic there was a monthly art walk.

This building has several nice amenities. There’s 24 hour security patrol, concierge, and controlled access to the building. (Not me thinking about the concierge knowing Christopher well enough to let him in the elevators when he ubered himself to Buck’s place in 4x08.)

There’s a lounge area for residents to use. Outside, there’s a hot and cold soaking spa area, a shared gas grill area, and outdoor patio space. Plus, the building is touching a public park with a playground. Also, the building has a deal with the parking garage next door for rentable spaces there.

The renovation was completed in 2008 and cost $50 million dollars. Head to jamescolincampbell.com/rowan-lofts/ for a good write up and video about that process, if you're as curious about this stuff as I am. But the tldr is that they did a great job restoring all the historic features. In the top right image above are the lovely original elevator doors that they uncovered and restored in the process.

So, what’s it cost to live in this building? Well, first, the apartments in the Rowan are condos. They’re each privately owned, and either lived in by the owner or rented by said owner to someone else. This isn’t a building that’s all owned and maintained by one management company.

Comparable units to Buck’s 1,000(ish) square feet, one bed, two bath unit are currently for rent at $2,800/month. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t include parking and such.

If you wanted to buy an equivalent apartment, one just sold in August for $580,000. However, Buck’s set apartment is a corner unit and has not one but two balconies, and the apartment in the listing has none, so let’s just round up to $600,000-650,000. Also, the HOA fees for this building are between $550-$650/month, plus the parking rent, etc. Basically, it’s spendy to live here. No one is surprised.

And, finally, because I couldn’t help myself, I went ahead and dug up some historic photos that include the Rowan (then Title Insurance Building). The top two are from 1913 and the bottom is from 1916. I’ve outlined the building in red in each photo.

That's it for Part one! Part two is here and part three is here.

#911 #911 fox #evan buckley #911 parade of homes #shut up fraddit #made by fraddit #911 by fraddit #911 meta #911 on fox

606 notes · View notes

magickastiel · 3 years

Text

Somewhere Off in the Dark (Dean/Cas) 7.3k

It’s easier to be with Cas in the dark.

Dean hasn’t got to see those eyes at full brightness, boring into his soul. Instead he can just talk and not worry about the embarrassment scalding his face or the discomfort twisting his spine.

It’s dangerous being with Cas in the dark.

Gift for @jackttwist for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! ✨

mild warning for a scene during early s13 so dean is very self-destructive and doesn't care about his own life. It's along the same times as the show but if you're triggered by that, skip from: 'Dean is sick' and pick up again at: "The Empty?" Dean whispers, feeling cold' for the cute stuff!

a03 or keep reading 💖

Dean will never get used to waking up and seeing eyes peering back at him.

He starts awake, half-reaching for the gun tucked under his pillow before he can pull himself back. He glares and throws the blanket off his lap, immediately regretting it when the cool night air hits his legs.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, voice dry and face impassive. He watches without shame as Dean clambers to his feet, eyes skimming over his legs, his rucked up t-shirt, the scowl on his face.

A chill shoots up Dean’s back and, not for the first time, he wonders how many pairs of eyes Castiel really has. He walks from the couch to Bobby’s kitchen for something to do with his overly observed body.

“I’ll shoot you one day.” He says over his shoulder. “That’ll show you.”

“What will that show me?”

Dean wants to be annoyed but instead he snorts with laughter. Castiel seems to have this affect on him.

“Nothin’. Forget it.” His eyes itch with fatigue and he rubs them with the back of his hand. “You want coffee?”

“I have no need for - ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean turns to lean his back against the counter and almost jumps again when he sees that Castiel has silently followed him to the kitchen. He can count the number of worn tiles between his bare feet and Castiel’s shoes. He has to swallow before he speaks. “Didn’t ask if you needed it. You want some?”

The angel’s eyes travel over him again and Dean feels like an ant under the hot glare of a magnifying glass on a sticky summer’s day.

“Yes.” He says eventually.

“Right.” Coffee.

He potters about, feeling eyes on him wherever he goes. He doesn’t let his hand shake.

By the time they’re sat back on the couch with two half-empty mugs, Dean’s body has loosened as he becomes accustom to the silent scrutiny. There’s no looming threat and no harsh judgement because Castiel is as he always is – curious. Every movement is apparently fascinating to him, every sentence Dean says is worth contemplation and every sip of coffee is a new experience to mull over. Again, Dean is surprised how little it annoys him.

“You remember the first time you woke me up here?” He says after a long pause. “You threatened to throw me back into Hell. Real nice of you.”

In the dark, Dean has to rely on Castiel’s voice to judge his expression. “Yes.” The word sounds solemn, like he’s disappointed that Dean remembers it. “I did say that.”

Dean takes the last glug of coffee to think. There’s an obvious question that’s been lingering between them for the last ten minutes.

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asks and doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.

Even though he can’t see him properly, he’s sure Castiel is staring straight at him even as he ponders his answer. It’s another reminder of how alien he is. He doesn’t have that need to look away, to hide his face as his mind races to find the right way to say the right thing. Dean envies him that.

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

When he speaks again, his tone is unnervingly soft. “Your friends.”

Ellen. Jo.

Dean’s heart clenches and he feels the urge to move, unable to sit still in his grief. His knee knocks against Castiel’s solid thigh but the angel stays perfectly still.

“I should have been with them.” Castiel continues his voice low and smooth. If it wasn’t for the subject matter, Dean might think he was being read to sleep like a troubled child. “I should have protected them.”

“Not your fault.” He mumbles and means it. It never occurred to him to blame Castiel. He’s been too busy blaming himself to consider anyone else’s actions.

“I arrived with them and I should have stayed with them. I let them down. I – I let...”

Castiel is hesitating. This is new behaviour for him and it’s dangerously human.

“I...let you down.”

Dean feels like he’s been doused with cold water. He doesn’t blame Castiel for not wanting to say that. It’s so ridiculously untrue and so goddamn weird to say that he let Dean down specifically. It’s too much focus on him, on them.

“You didn’t let us down, man.”

“You are being kind.” Castiel says in neither admonishment nor gratefulness. He just states it like it’s a sure fact. “Thank you. But I shall endeavour to make it up to you.”

“Oh.” Dean says feeling dumb and strangely warm. “Right. But like I said, nothing to make up for.”

“You are not sleeping.”

He almost gets whiplash at the sudden change in conversation. “Uh well, no, not right now. You did wake me up.”

“Allow me to clarify: you do not sleep enough.” The still air is disturbed by the rustle of his trenchcoat and the sharp clack of the ceramic mug being placed on the table.

“Kind of a lot going on, dude.” Dean says, trying to protest as Castiel pulls his mug from his hands and places that on the table too. “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

“Lie back down.”

Dean does as he’s told but frowns too. He tells himself it’s a good compromise. “You gonna stare at me until I fall asleep or something?”

“I could but I believe that will be unnecessary.” He stands and looms over the couch. He looks intimidating from down here – tall as a skyscraper and dark as a void. Dean clutches at the blanket for something tangible to hold on to. “Your body still hasn’t recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of the last week. And when you sleep you have nightmares thus reliving the pain. You must rest completely to correct this and regain your full strength.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, yeah? So what you gonna do – zap me to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Wait – ”

Two fingertips brush his forehead and he sleeps.

Dean can’t stop looking.

Even as Benny regales them with some batshit story, even as he eats his handful of berries, even as he wanders the perimeter of their little camp.

Cas is here.

Like, actually here.

He hadn’t let himself lose hope but it had been slipping. Just around the corner, he’d think. One more fight and he’ll be there. On and on.

And then there he was, alive and washing his face like he’d just woken up after a bad night’s sleep at a motel.

Dean’s eyes flit over to him again. He isn’t used to it yet. They only found him a few hours ago. Man’s gotta bask in having his best friend back.

“Dean? You hear me?”

He sighs and turns back to Benny who, to his credit, doesn’t even look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Sleeping, shifts, food.”

He snorts. “Got the gist, at least.”

“I’ll take the first shift. Gotta...” He glances over his shoulder at Cas again. He isn’t quite sure what he’s got to do, but he knows it involves Cas.

“Like that, huh?” Benny says, a slight smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” He mutters, grabbing a stick and poking the meagre fire for something else to focus on.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He waves a hand, but the smirk hasn’t left his face. “Just startin’ to feel like a third wheel, is all.”

Dean’s face heats unpleasantly. He knows it’s not like that but he can’t quite bring himself to argue about it. Instead he stares into the fire as Benny wanders off to rest. He feels horribly cracked open. He’s gotten used to his hardened shell – Purgatory took all the resilience he had and coated him in it. But the first sight of Cas had split him apart and now his usual racing thoughts have come rushing back with the force of a ten tonne truck. He almost wishes he could go back to how he was yesterday, pure focus and drive.

Now he feels small next to the fire, between a vampire and an angel.

He’s just one slightly shitty human lost in Purgatory.

“Dean?”

Cas joins him suddenly, with that eerie angelic stealth. Dean only just manages to stop himself from jumping like a kid. Cas sits on his left, watching him intently.

Everything is kind of colourless in Purgatory. It drove Dean insane for the first few days; everything seemed slightly off and unreal. Then he got used to it – the lacklustre trees, the blank water, even the fire looked kind of grey.

Cas’ eyes are still very blue.

It’s the first real colour he’s seen in months.

“Dean?” He says again, sounding slightly alarmed. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just...weird to see you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. “I...I suppose it is strange to see you too. I have seen you from a distance a few times. If several leviathans caught me at once, it would take me a while to kill all of them. Each time, I was very aware of how you were likely closing in on my location. Then I would catch a glimpse of you through the trees and that was when I knew I needed to get ahead again.”

“You what?!” Dean hisses, only keeping his voice down for Benny’s sake. “You mean you’ve been in spitting distance before and you didn’t say anything?! You could have...” He thinks about the sleepless nights, the desperation to find him alive. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas squints and tilts his head a little. Dean feels his anger dissipate. “I wanted nothing more than to join you. Together, I am sure we can conquer almost anything.” Right. That’s a total normal thing to say to someone. “But I was the one who released the leviathans. It was my responsibility to deal with them. If they got to you I would never be able to forgive myself.” His gaze drops to the fire. “I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Don’t.” Frustration pushes at Dean’s skull, making his eyes water. “Yeah, ok. You did something pretty dumb. But you did it because you were trying to save the world. I should have...if I hadn’t been so damn caught up with other stuff. If I had just been there more - ”

“Dean, you cannot blame yourself.” Cas sounds genuinely horrified at the thought. “It was my decision and the consequences are mine to bear. All I can hope is that you can find a way to forgive me. And Sam - ”

“Sam’s good now.” Dean says quickly, half to reassure himself. “You screwed him over, not gonna lie. But at least you fixed it.”

Neither of them speaks for a while. Cas seems intent on watching the fire while Dean’s shell shatters a little more. Had he really had forgiven Cas just like that? He thought of what John Winchester would say about that. To say Cas had ‘screwed Sam over’ was a bit of an understatement. He had totally destroyed his mind. And here Dean was, casually forgiving him like it was no big thing.

It isn’t just words either. Dean really doesn’t feel any animosity towards the angel at all. Look out for Sammy. That had been drummed into him since he was four years old, when he carried his baby brother from their burning home. He still lives by it too. So it’s unnerving to forgive someone who hurt Sam. He’d been angry at first, sure. Upset, if he was being honest. He’d been hit with the double whammy of worrying about Sam and being betrayed by the only real friend he’d ever had. The only one that sticks around.

Well, that isn’t quite true. Cas always leaves but he always comes back too.

Now Dean just feels happy. And tired. He’s pretty tired too.

“You should sleep.” Cas says, softly. “I can watch over you.”

His knee jerk reaction is to tell the angel that’s weird. In any other situation it is weird. But here, he really does need someone looking out for him.

“’Angels are watching over you.’” He says, thinking of soft blonde hair and a warm smile. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That’s what my mom used to tell me every night when she put me to bed. Guess that’s true tonight, huh?”

“I suspect she did not imagine that to come true in Purgatory while you are travelling with an angel and vampire, but the sentiment is lovely nonetheless.”

Dean can’t stop himself from grinning as he settles down, wedging his jacket under his head like Benny did.

“Do we have to travel with the vampire?” Cas grumbles beside him, sounding wonderfully like himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows against his makeshift pillow. “What, you don’t like Benny?”

“I don’t like the way he acts.” His eyes narrow, glaring at the sleeping figure the other side of the fire. “He looks at you like he wants to...consume you.”

Dean laughs and, for a moment, the clearing rings with it. “Dude trust me: Benny ain’t gonna eat me. He’s got plenty of food around.”

But Cas still looks unsure. “That’s not...” He sighs. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He gives Dean one of those rare, small smiles as he looks down at him. “Sleep.”

Dean does as he’s told for once, letting his aching limbs stretch out next to the warmth of the fire and under his best friend’s watchful gaze.

But after a few moments, he can’t resist another look, even as his body succumbs.

“You can sleep, Dean.” Cas says, almost chastising. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Ain’t that. Just...” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his heart feels too heavy for his chest. “Just checkin’ you’re still there, is all.”

As he falls asleep, he hears his voice one more time.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

When Dean asks Cas where he can drop him, the ex-angel avoids his eyes and says something about being ‘between places’.

Yeah, Dean’s the worst friend in the world.

He drives them to a motel because that’s the least he can do.

He mentally berates himself on the drive there while Cas is quiet in the passenger seat. This really is the least he can do. He should be driving Cas home to the Bunker, buying him dinner on the way back. He should be apologising for throwing him out. But if he starts apologising that means he’s got to start explainingand that’s something he really can’t do. Not yet.

So he drives his awesome best friend to a shitty motel and books them a shitty twin room and orders a shitty pizza.

Once they’ve eaten in relative silence, Cas perches on the edge of one of the beds staring wide-eyed and blank faced at the television. Unfortunately, it’s not Dr. Sexy. Just some grim drama about murders and family betrayals. Like they don’t have enough of that to deal with already.

He looks small and Dean has the sudden urge to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” He says, busying his restless hands with clearing up the greasy napkins and tossing them into the bin. “Don’t sit that close to the TV. You’ll get square eyes.”

For what seems like the first time in an hour, Cas blinks. “Is that possible?”

Dean chuckles and settles back on his bed, kicking off his boots with a groan. “Nah, just somethin’ parents tell their kids. Dad used to say it to me all the time.” His smile slips as John Winchester’s dark eyes narrow in his mind. “Used to watch so much Scooby Doo it drove him mad. ‘Turn that TV off and do something useful! Ain’t got no use for a son with square eyes!’” He fidgets on the bed, fighting the urge to pull a blanket over himself.

“Oh.” Cas half turns away from the TV. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

Dean shrugs. “Just watched it when he was gone.” Had plenty of time.

“I assume you had plenty of time to watch it then.”

Huh.

Dean’s stunned into silence long enough for Cas to look over. Something on his face makes Cas look guilty.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to comment on your father.”

“No.” Dean says but isn’t sure if he means it.

Cas stands, flicking off the TV and sitting against the pillows of his own bed. The quiet makes Dean realise that he’s alone with Cas in a motel room. He isn’t sure why it sets his teeth on edge – it shouldn’t be any different from sharing with Sam. So why does he feel a bit too hot under his shirt?

“Family is a complicated thing.” Cas continues, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” The word sticks in his throat. “You miss ‘em? The other angels?”

In the soft lamplight, Cas’ profile looks striking as he thinks. “Yes and no. I miss the simplicity of being with them.”

“Simplicity? Can’t imagine Heaven ever being simple.”

“Oh, it’s not, not really. But I knew my place and I knew what I required to do. And I was known. Understood.”

“You think I don’t get you?” Dean asks before he can stop himself.

Cas leans back further, turning slightly to rest his head on the pillow. His eyes look almost velvet in the soft light. Dean finds himself turning a little too, cheek brushing the cotton pillowcase.

“I think you understand me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Oh.” Dean feels struck dumb and something inside his chest clunks. “That...that’s what friends are for, I guess.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles, gummy and a little crooked where he’s resting his head. “It is.”

Dean rolls onto his back, heart hammering as he stares at the ceiling. Cas’ eyes are still on him – he knows the feel of that gaze like a dangerous coastline knows the relentless glare of a lighthouse.

The silence drags and his fingers itch to switch the TV back on.

“Coulda got you your own room.” He mutters, almost to himself. Least I could do. “Give you some privacy.”

“No.” Cas says firmly. “This is...this is good. Thank you.” He sounds so earnestly grateful Dean almost cringes in shame. “I spend quite a lot of time alone. It’s good to have company.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“But if you’d rather - ”

“Nah, it’s all good.” He says and is surprised that he means it. He’s counted the stains on the ceiling three times and his heart is slowing to its normal pace again.

“Dean?” Cas sounds a little slower now. “Tell me something?”

“Uh, sure. What?”

“Anything.”

“Like a story?” Dean frowns and looks over to see Cas’ eyes are already half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...” He flounders. He hasn’t done this since he was a kid, making up stories for Sammy to fall asleep to in the back of the Impala. “Ok. Once, this guy woke up. Let’s call him...Dan. He woke up and realised he was underground, being suffocated. So after he panicked a bit, he dug his way out and almost goddamn blinded himself ‘cos it was a sunny day, right? He walks to this old gas station and keeps thinking ‘how am I alive?’ ‘cos he’s pretty sure he was dead.”

He knows he isn’t telling it well but it doesn’t seem to matter because Cas hums again, sounding pleased this time. Dean feels his own body melting like hot wax into the bed as he watches Cas’ eyes close.

“Then he looks in the mirror and sees he’s got this mark on his shoulder. A handprint. So he’s like, ‘who the hell left that there?’”

Cas chuckles, mouth thick with sleep. Dean pulls a blanket over himself and wraps an arm around one of the pillows.

“Turns out, his best friend left it there. But here’s the thing: he ain’t met him yet.”

Dean smiles as Cas’ breathing gets even and heavy. He watches for a moment and squeezes the pillow tight against his chest before turning out the light.

He dreams of Hell but when he wakes, all he can remember are dark wings beating hard against fire.

Dean is sick.

He throws up until his body is shaking, until his throat is raw and his eyes are bloodshot.

He slumps down next to the toilet and takes in breaths he doesn’t really want. The cool title presses against his burning back and he closes eyes. Which is a horrific mistake.

A beam of light streaming from his mouth, from his eyes, from the hole in his chest -

His body jerks and his foot knocks the empty whiskey bottle with a jarring clatter. Yeah, that’s rule one, buddy. Don’t close your fucking eyes.

He stands on shaking legs, picks up the empty bottle and goes back to his room where he’s stashed another. Thankfully, he doesn’t pass Sam on the way. He can’t deal with the pity, he can’t deal with the logic and he can’t deal with his stupid, childish hope. Mom’s gone. Ain’t no sense in pretending otherwise. Gone just like –

Nope.

He opens his door and chucks the empty bottle down again, letting it roll off to some dark corner of his room. He scoops up the next one and cracks open the top, taking a deep swig. It hits him hard; neat alcohol on his turbulent stomach makes him gag but he perseveres. He’s exhausted but he can’t close his eyes.

So he’s aiming for blackout.

It can’t be too far away – he can’t remember when he last ate. He’s aching all over, boiling hot and he’s...

Sobbing.

“You...you son of a bitch...” He sways a little when he looks up at the dingy ceiling but he’s trying to talk beyond that. “Whydya hav’ ta...fuck!” He rushes over to the sink and throws up the whiskey he just swallowed. It burns even more on the way up.

Once he’s stopped retching, he tries to take another swig but his body won’t let him do it. He collapses onto the floor again, legs too weak to stand. The bottle clangs in the sink, probably spilling all of its contents down the drain. He makes a weak sound of protest but doesn’t move.

His eyes feel tight and dry against the salty wetness on his face. He wonders how far above him Heaven is. If he’s even there. Something tells him he isn’t. If he is, surely he would have found a way to get back.

Dean whispers his name, a private prayer of desperation. There’s still some dumb part of him that thinks he might just appear again, slightly dishevelled and annoyed at Dean for not looking after himself.

But he doesn’t.

The silence stretches and Dean contemplates hitting his head on the floor. If he does it hard enough, there’s a good chance it’ll knock him out for a while, maybe a few days if he’s lucky.

He tries to lift his head but it’s too heavy. A wave of panic rushes over him as he starts to feel paralyzed – trapped in his own body and smothered with grief.

“Cas?” He chokes, a fresh wave of tears rushing down his face. “You...you’re meant to come back. You always come back. You gotta...you gotta come back, man. Please. Please, I can’t - ”

I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.

With all his might, he rolls onto his side before he’s suffocated completely. His head spins as he turns, his stomach churns and his eyes roll back. When he finally passes out, he doesn’t see anything at all.

“The Empty?” Dean whispers, feeling cold.

“Yes.” Cas whispers back. He’s only whispering because Dean is. Dean feels completely normal about that and not giddy at all.

“What was it like?” He doesn’t want to know but has to ask all the same.

“Empty.” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oh ok, smartass – thanks for clearing that up!” Dean huffs good-naturedly and has to grip the railing until his knuckles turn white. He’s got so much happiness in him his body doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels energy thrumming through him and he has the sudden urge to start sprinting and laughing.

They’ve stopped at a motel on the drive back from Colorado to the Bunker. Sam is already asleep, hair all splayed out on his pillow like Sleeping Beauty. But Dean...well, Dean was dead for a couple of minutes today so he figures he’ll enjoy being alive for a bit longer. He leans on the rail overlooking the parking lot and lets the cool air fill his lungs.

He’s got company.

“How is Jack?” Cas asks, obviously expecting a better answer than the quick reassurance they’d given him earlier.

“He’s doing ok. I was...” Dean trails off, his good mood momentarily dipping into guilt. “I was kind of a dick to him at first - ”

“What a surprise.” Cas sighs, world-weary and affectionately irritated. Dean wants to make him sound like that every day.

“- but we’ve gotten better.” He knocks Cas’ shoulder with his. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Good.” Cas smiles at him and he has to grip the railing again.

Dean watches him stare up at the moon, the pearly light making him look as otherworldly as he is. Dean is reminded there are wings somewhere behind Cas. Broken, yes, but still there. It’s weirdly exciting that Cas isn’t human. A strange thrill shoots through him when he really thinks about it. He feels like one of those people who inadvertently tame some dangerous beast and have their photos taken with the thing sat on their couch with them. It’s that precious feeling that you’ve been chosen, that something that would normally kill you with a snap of jaws or a click of its fingers saw you and thought you were special. So it decided that it wanted you to live. That it wanted to spend time with you. That he wanted –

“Dean? You’re staring.” Cas turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly smug expression. “You usually tell me off for that.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just...you’re back.You came back again.”

Cas’s expressions softens and he edges a little closer. Suddenly – wildly – Dean thinks if Cas kissed him now he’d be fine with it.

He doesn’t.

“It was suffocating.” He says instead. “The black emptiness was...all encompassing. Like no matter what I did or where I went, I would never escape the feeling of total despair. Of being painfully alone. It was like - ”

“Choking.” Dean says and swallows hard against his healing throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ fingers twitch on the railing and Dean thinks that if he moved his left pinkie, he could feel his skin. Cas’ hand drops before he can really contemplate doing it. “But I did escape.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s full of energy again, happiness buzzing around his body like a swarm of bumblebees. “You got out, man.”

“I was afraid that feeling would follow me. That I would still feel that fear no matter how far I ran.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” Cas turns to the moon again, bathed in pure light, eyes shining as bright as his grace. “I don’t feel scared at all.”

Dean blinks back the sting in his eyes and smiles. “Me neither.”

Dean pushes open the door with a sweaty palm.

Cas stands next to him, staring into the room with his lips slightly parted. Dean’s gaze lingers on them for moment before he drags his eyes away.

Just because Cas...said what he said, doesn’t mean he wants that. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he did mean it but like...friends. Best friends love each other. Of course they do. Sure, it did seemlike a momentous romantic confession made by a guy madly in love with his best friend before he sacrificed himself to save said best friend but maybe...maybe it wasn’t really like that.

“You did this for me?” Cas sounds almost tearful and Dean can’t look at him like that. It reminds too much of –

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Well, Sam helped too. Turns out he’s kinda nerdy about plants too. But I bought ‘em all and watered ‘em and...Jack got you that stuffed bee, by the way.”

Cas steps inside the room and Dean can finally look up from his feet. His eyes go straight to Cas’ broad back, casually dressed in one of Sam’s sweaters. The sleeves are too long but Cas says he likes it. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that Dean kept aside for him and a pair of socks with a hole in the toe.

“I love it.”

Dean’s heart literally skips a beat. Great, he loves it. Loves it in the way he loves –

“Wanted you to have something to come back to, you know? I know this was always kinda your room but there was nothing in here and I thought...after what you said before about the Empty...thought you’d want something good to come back to. Bright and full of life...or whatever, I dunno. Just thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

Dean thinks that’s over stating it. It’s not that good. Not nearly enough to repay his debts. Not anywhere near what Cas deserves. He deserves a real home, a huge garden, a fucking mansion with butlers and people who bow to him and call him ‘sir’. Instead Dean has given him his old room back. Sure, it’s got a few shelves up, a new rug, bedding that Jack picked out called ‘jungle dreams’, a load of plants and a tall lamp that gives everything a nice glow but it’s still the same room.

Dean has never felt more pathetic.

Castiel is an angel. Ok, barely an angel now (and whose fault it that?) but still a celestial being. He might get tired sometimes, he might get hungry and he might be able to get drunk but he’s still an angel.

He’s still better.

Better than this stupid room, better than this miserable Bunker. Better than Dean.

“Is this your blanket?” Cas asks suddenly, plucking the Scooby-Doo fleece blanket from the bed.

Oh, that. “Uh, yeah. Thought you might get cold now. Don’t want you to get numb toes or nothin’.”

“That’s...” Dean isn’t prepared for the open, raw joy on Cas’ face when he looks up. It almost sends him reeling backwards out of the door. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do all of this. It’s...”

Stupid. Stupid plants, stupid lamp, stupid goddamn blanket.

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s stupid.” Dean blurts, feeling awkward and childish. “Shoulda done something more. Shoulda got you - ”

“You got me.” Cas says firmly. “You got me out, Dean. You and Sam and Jack...I will never be able to thank you enough. And then to come back to this room that you worked so hard on, that you filled with things you knew I would like...there is nothing better than that in the whole world. The whole of creation. To be known and to be wanted is the best thing there is.”

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he say to that? What can he say that would ever compare to what Cas said? What he said before –

“Right. Ok. Great. That’s...good. I’ll just...” He gestures over his shoulder to the door. Being in here with Cas is too intense, like staring at the sun or holding your hand over an open flame. “You probably want to rest.”

Cas hesitates before saying, “Yes. I suppose I should. Thank you again for this. I really love it.”

“Yeah, man.” Dean almost winces. “No worries. I’ll just...leave you to it.”

He steps back into the open doorway, unwilling to take his eyes away from Cas because he’s here, in the room Dean has imagined him in for weeks. It’s kind of annoying that Cas doesn’t have the same trouble. He turns his back, wandering towards the plants on the shelves and gently touching the leaves.

Dean lingers, like a moth perched on a lightshade.

“Are you - ” Just leave. “Are you gonna be ok by yourself? I mean, you said before that it was lonely being in the Empty. Thought maybe you’d want company?”

Cas seems surprised when he faces Dean again. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I would enjoy you staying for a while. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

The idea of Cas thinking he’s keeping Dean against his will is laughable.

“So, er - ” He sits on the bed, fingers clutching at his blanket. “What do you wanna do? I could get my laptop and we could watch a movie? Or we could watch one of those nature documentaries that kinda send me to sleep? You know the ones with the British guy with smooth voice - ”

“Actually, I should rest. I am quite tired.”

“Oh.” Dean tries to not look crushingly disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

“You could rest with me.” Cas says, just like that. Like it’s not a big deal at all. Like guy friends just clamber into bed with each other all the time and die for each other and confess their love for each other...

“Sure.” Dean’s mouth decides for him. “We could – we could do that.”

So they get into bed together.

Cas slides in as though this is his regular night time routine, looking totally at ease in his new ‘jungle dreams’ bedding and borrowed blanket. Dean’s hands shake as he lifts up the covers and slides in too. He waits for it to be weird, waits for discomfort and his father’s face swimming in front of eyes.

Instead, he just feels warm.

They’re led next to each other, unmoving and flat on their backs. Dean’s right leg is about to fall off the bed and Cas’ shoulder looks like it’s digging into the nightstand. Maybe this bed wasn’t made to fit two fully grown men too afraid to touch.

“Dean, are you comfortable? I am not.”

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this isn’t great. Maybe if we...uh - ”

“What about if we do this?”

Cas’ hands are suddenly everywhere, manhandling him in a way that Dean has never experienced before but wouldn’t mind experiencing again. He ends up with his head resting on Cas’ chest, forehead pressed against his neck. His right leg has nowhere to go but to hook around Cas’ legs, entwining them together.

And Cas is holding him.

His arms are wrapped around him and not just because they haven’t got anywhere else to go. Because he wants them to go there. Because he wantsto hold Dean. Possibly all night.

Dean starts to panic.

Led like this, his ear is pressed against Cas’ chest – his heartbeat the loudest thing he can hear. What if someone breaks into the Bunker without him knowing? What if something is happening to Sam? To Jack? And he hasn’t even brought a gun with him. He squirms a little, debating on popping back to his room to get one when Cas says,

“Are you thinking about getting a weapon, Dean? I promise you, you won’t need it.”

Cas’ deep voice rumbles through his body, rocking him out of his spiralling worry so quickly Dean briefly wonders if he used some of his remaining slither of grace to do it.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“An intruder? Judging by our current position, I assume I am the being most visible from the door.”

Dean’s fingers curl in Cas’ borrowed sweater. “You mean you’d be shot first?”

“Yes.” Dean feels his arms tighten around him for a moment. “And I believe my body would shield you from the vast majority of attacks.” He sighs and his breath tickles Dean’s hair. “Of course, if someone were to gain access to the Bunker, it’s likely they would be a supremely powerful being. That would reduce our chance of survival by quite a lot. However, if you really insist on being armed, I am confident that in the few seconds I could shield you, you could at least reach for a makeshift weapon. Whatever good it would do.”

“Right. But...” Dean doesn’t really feel comforted. “I don’t want you to...” He can’t quite say the word.

“Die?” Cas finishes for him as his fingers begin to move, leaving warm trails over Dean’s back. “No, I cannot say that I am enthused by the idea either. I have no desire to leave you again.”

“Not ever?” Dean asks and despises himself for the needy edge in his voice.

“Not ever.” His hands are moving now, big and slow in soothing motions against Dean’s back. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this. Mom, he thinks. When he was a kid. He knows he must look pathetic – six foot plus guy that’s been to hell and back being held like a baby. He should move, should pull away, wipe his eyes and tell Cas it’s time he went back to his own room.

He doesn’t want to.

“You love me.” He says instead, face burning and mouth dry.

He feels Cas smile against the crown of his head. “Yes.”

“You’re like...in love with me.”

One of Cas’ hands moves higher, fingertips trailing over the back of his neck leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Yes.”

Dean will never admit to the half moan, half whine he lets out. He buries his face in Cas’ chest and breathes him in. The smell of him fills Dean’s lungs and Cas’ arms start to feel like a weighted blanket, pressing gently on his body. It makes his eyes soft and his limbs heavy.

As he drifts off, he feels Cas’ lips brushing against his temple.

Dean wakes slowly.

He’s cocooned in softness and warmth and he has no desire to rush anything anymore – least of all to the leave the comfort of his (new) memory foam and his angel. He shifts a little, nuzzling his nose against stubble.

“I thought you were making breakfast.” Cas’ voice rolls over him slow and sweet like honey.

“Hmm.” A murmur, breathed into Cas’ neck, is all Dean can manage.

“Dean, you did promise them.” Cas says, with barely a hint of firmness. His voice is a little husky, like he’s still battling the urge to sleep.

“Oh, yeah? When?” Dean’s lips brush over warm skin.

“Last night.”

He pretends to forget. “Can’t take anything I said last night serious, Cas.”

“Oh?” He sounds a bit more awake now – that familiar dry, teasing tone creeping in.

Dean feels a pang of something in his chest so intense he almost squirms. “Alright, maybe some things were serious.”

“Hmm.” One of Cas’ hands rubs languid strokes up and down his back. “I should hope so.”

The memories come back easy and bright, playing like a dream behind Dean’s heavy eyelids. The stillness of their bedroom is punctuated by the sound of quiet voices in the living room. He grins at that, relishing waking up with the love of his life and his family just in the next room. Happy. Safe.

“Screw ‘em.” Dean says, more to himself than Cas and rubs his foot along his leg a few times, settling down again.

Cas doesn’t seem to have any objections. His hand strokes higher, fingers brushing through Dean’s hair and his blunt nails lightly graze his scalp.

Dean almost whines, his head lifting to follow the touch. He half opens his eyes again and sees a smile, unhurried and adoring. Cas leans down a little and kisses him, stubble rough and lips soft. Dean’s fingers curl against skin and his legs squeeze a muscled thigh beneath the blankets.

They stay that way for a while – bodies warm and entwined, gently greeting each other as the new day dawns. The rising sun has drenched the room in rich yellow light, soft and muffled through the curtains.

Cas’ hand is just caressing his hip and his tongue is getting hotter and more demanding in Dean’s very willing mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“I know you’re both awake.” Sam’s voice rumbles through the door, amused and still a little sleep rough. “And don’t think we forgot about breakfast either. Eileen wants pancakes and she says I don’t make them right.”

“Not unhealthy enough!” Eileen voice calls out, a little further away.

Dean laughs against Cas’ lips.

“Alright, alright! Gimme five.”

As they slowly detangle, he catches a glimpse of silver as Cas stretches. Dean’s hand feels heavy and warm, like someone’s been holding it for hours. Dean yawns and dangles one leg out of bed, then another. He’s easing himself into the day, taking it a bit at a time.

He can do that now.

He laughs as Cas drags him in for one last kiss before he slides away, shoving his feet into his slippers and tugging on his trusty robe. His ties it around him and wanders, a little stiff-legged, to the window. He pulls back the curtains and from the bed Cas both grumbles and raises his face to meet the sunrise.

Dean watches the sun bathe him in bright light and remembers seeing him like this before. But then it was moonlight and he and Cas were at some shitty motel just out of Colorado. Not in their own house, not in theirbedroom. Dean has his first unbearably intense wave of wild happiness. It won’t be the last one today.

“I like having a window.”

“I liked having eyesight.” Cas mutters, burying himself into the covers.

Dean laughs and thwacks him on the thigh as he passes out the door. Cas’ll be up in his own time.

Four steps and Dean’s in the kitchen.

His brother is perched on one of the chairs at the little island separating the kitchen from the living room. Eileen is signing at him and he’s watching, completely enraptured, with a look of total adoration on his face. Dean would have laughed at him for that once. Now, he knows what it’s like when someone looks at him like that. Now he knows what it’s like to look at someone like that.

But he might still laugh a bit. That’s a big brother’s right.

“Mornin’!” He calls cheerily, rummaging in the fridge for eggs and milk. He emerges triumphant, plopping them onto the counter with a grin. “If the lady wants pancakes, the lady gets pancakes.”

“Best brother in law ever.” Eileen says and Sam almost falls off his seat. She just shrugs cheekily. “Unofficially.”

“For now.” Dean winks and Sam splutters.

“Right, well. Once you’ve finished marrying me off, can we get some breakfast?”

“Alright, alright!” Dean glares but he’s itching to get started. “Goddamn demanding baby. Eileen you could do so much better. Sadly, I’m already taken - ”

She laughs and so does Sam. He wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and she plays with his hair as they all talk. They talk about Jack getting hyperactive on sugared almonds, about Claire and Kaia wearing matching suits, about Jody and Donna getting drunk and singing karaoke until they were booed off the stage.

Then Cas stumbles out of their soft-lit room; hair wild and face crumpled. He bids them all good morning in a slightly rough tone before shuffling over for coffee. He cradles his mug in both hands as he leans against the corner counter, basking in the sun with his eyes closed.

Dean watches him, aching with joy.

Being in the dark with Cas is easy. But being with him in the light is better.

He twirls the whisk in his hand and it knocks against the ring on his left hand, so new it glows against his skin. Cas kisses his neck as he passes into the living room and Dean grins, looking up at his family.

“Hey, Eileen. What’s the sign for ‘husband’?”

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fic #spn fic #userstarry #dean and cas night time snippets throughout the years #it's mostly cute #ahhhhh my first spn fic i'm so excited #i really loved working on this #mine

61 notes · View notes

alsaurus-loves-dean · 3 years

Text

What Dean Has To Say a destiel fic by alsaurus | rating: T | word count: 3.8k When Cas comes back, he disappears.

He’s supposedly still in the bunker. According to Sam, he doesn’t seem to have left the building at all since he arrived.

Dean wouldn’t know, because Cas is avoiding him.

It’s the only explanation. Why else would it be impossible to find his best friend even though they’re under the same roof 24/7? Not that Dean has really gone looking for him, but still. They haven’t crossed paths once since Cas got back three days ago. This wouldn’t be so weird on its own (yes it would), except Sam sees Cas all the time. So what gives?

Dean knows what gives, but at the same time? He doesn’t really. Cas is obviously reluctant to talk to Dean after what he’d said to trigger his deal with the Empty. He’d said all that under the assumption that he’d never have to face a response. Dean understands. He would definitely feel the same if he were in that position. But Cas? Cas is the bravest, purest, and most sincere person that Dean has ever met. How could someone like that be afraid to talk to someone like Dean?

This isn’t how Dean had expected this to go.

He’d wanted Cas back more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. He’d never felt joy the way he felt when he saw Cas out of the Empty, back in the bunker where he belonged. Dean knew he needed to be with Cas, that Cas was it for him.

But he’d also kind of assumed that Cas would take the lead, here. Cas, who was so straightforward and free of human insecurities, would be the one to bring it up - if only just to assure Dean that nothing had to change. Then Dean would have the perfect opening to tell him he felt the same. If words failed him in that moment, Dean was also prepared to let his body do some of the talking.

Dean had not imagined that Cas would just straight-up hide from him for days on end. It’s frustrating, but also a little endearing.

Okay, it’s a lot endearing. Very endearing. Some might even say it’s adorable. Not Dean, though. Sure, Cas is so flustered at the idea of talking to Dean about his feelings that he literally won’t show his stupid angel face - so what? What’s even cute about that?

Anyway.

Dean is starting to get antsy about the whole thing. He’s not exactly anxious, but he’s so amped up that his body interprets it as anxiety. He had to cut down on the caffeine because he’d started to feel like he was vibrating out of his skin. For someone Dean never sees, Cas sure does occupy a whole lot of space in Dean’s head most of the time. He finds it difficult to really focus on anything else, so he’s watched a LOT of movies the past few days - just zoning out with only half his attention on the screen.

“Why are you sitting here in the dark by yourself?” Sam asks from the doorway, making Dean jolt in surprise.

Dean hadn’t realized he’d turned the TV off after Dirty Dancing had ended. He really is just sitting in the Dean Cave, in the dark, by himself. Awesome.

“What‘s it to you? And who am I supposed to be sitting with, anyway? Not like Cas wants anything to do with me,” Dean grumbles. Laying it on just a little thick, since he knows better than Sam why Cas isn’t here.

“What is up with you two, anyway?” Sam asks, and it’s obvious that he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. He flips the light switch and comes to sit in the other chair. He’s perched on the edge of it, leaning towards Dean as if to signify how very important he finds this conversation. How he’s not going to let Dean out of it.

Fine.

“Cas is just being a baby. He thinks he can just confess his undying love for me and peace out, and then once I rescue his ass he can just avoid dealing with the whole thing,” Dean starts. Then he finds he doesn’t want to stop, despite Sam’s eyes going wide in shock. “Seriously, man, I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Like how long am I supposed to wait? We should have spent these whole three days in bed doing all kinds of freaky shit - but look at me, Sam! I’m sitting alone in the dark without even realizing it because the dude lives rent free in my freakin’ head!”

“Umm,” Sam says.

“I get that he’s nervous, but so am I! I mean, he’s the one whose cards are already on the table. I’m the one who has shit to say! I don’t even know if I’ll be able to say it, but I’ll never find out if I never even see the guy!”

“Okay, hold on. Just a minute. You’re saying that Cas told you...?”

“Yeah.”

“That he - “

“Yep.”

“And you want to say it back.”

“Sure. If you wanna call it that.”

“Come on, Dean.”

“I mean yeah, Sam, what do you want me to say? I have no idea how it’ll go down. I still haven’t seen him since we got him back.”

Sam starts to smile, and Dean doesn’t like the look of that.

“So what, he’s avoiding you because he’s scared of what you’ll say?” Sam asks.

Dean shrugs.

“I guess. Why else would he avoid me and not you?”

Sam’s smile grows as he sits back in the chair, settling in. He watches Dean for a few moments, eyes twinkling like he’s about to say something really stupid. Why did Dean think that opening up about this would be a good idea?

“That’s actually kind of cute,” Sam says.

Dean rolls his eyes so hard he has to throw his head against the back of the chair.

“Don’t you start with that!” Dean groans. “It’s not cute, it’s annoying. It’s cowardice, is what it is!”

“Have you tried to find him?” Sam asks. The smirk on his face tells Dean he knows the answer but is asking just to be a little bitch.

“Shut up. Why does it have to be me, huh? Why do I have to be the one to bring it up?”

“I didn’t say you had to bring anything up. I just mean have you tried to talk to him at ALL? You say you haven’t seen him, but have you looked for him?”

Dean has not. But -

“I already looked for him, in the Empty! And I pulled him out. It was a whole thing! I think the ball’s in his court now.”

“Dean, think about it. You have a lot more experience with this kind of thing than he does,” Sam reasons.

It’s true. But at the same time -

“I have never experienced anything like this. Ever. Especially not with a dude,” Dean says. He feels out of his element, too. That’s why Cas was supposed to take charge! (Dean knows that doesn’t make sense, and he doesn’t care).

The smile on Sam’s face turns gentler, any trace of teasing disappearing.

“I’m surprised you’re even telling me all this,” Sam says.

“Sam, come on,” Dean protests, because he really doesn’t want to get into it.

“No, really! In the past you’ve been… very adamant about being straight.” Too adamant, is what Sam means. He’s not wrong.

“What’s your point?” Dean asks.

“I’m just glad this is happening, I guess.”

Dean can’t help but melt a little at that sentiment. Inwardly. On the outside, he’s still trying to act put out, but the longer he sits there trying not to confide in Sam, the stronger the pull to do so becomes. Like being caught in a wave, Dean finally lets it pour through him.

“It’s Cas. You know? It’s Cas. I spent too long worrying about all that. I’ve lost him too many times, Sam. I can’t really care about all that stuff anymore. So I just want him to know, you know? I don’t want my crap to keep Cas from getting what he wants. He deserves to get everything he wants. He can have it. I want him to have it. And I want him to know that.” Dean stops. Takes a deep breath, because that was a lot. Then he wraps it up. “And that means you’re gonna have to know at some point anyway, so. There you go.”

Sam looks shocked again, but in a totally different way that Dean doesn’t recognize at all. Which makes sense, considering this is the first time Dean’s ever admitted to having gay feelings for an angel of the Lord. It’s an unusual situation.

“That’s amazing, Dean. Seriously. I’m really, really happy for you,” Sam finally says.

Dean can tell he means it. He’s actually not sure he’s ever seen Sam so sincerely pleased. But Dean frowns at that last sentence.

“I don’t know what you have to be happy about just yet. Dude won’t even talk to me.”

“You said yourself that you haven’t even tried!”

“Yeah but I can take a hint, man. He doesn’t want to see me. Otherwise he’d have seen me.”

And it boils down to that, Dean realizes. Because while he understands that Cas is reluctant because he’s afraid, Dean is also hurt. It’s irrational, but he wants Cas’ love for him to be stronger than that fear. He aches for Cas every moment of every day and every night. He’s barely functioning because he feels like his entire existence is on pause - he hadn’t expected to be in this prolonged state of limbo. He’d been ready for Cas. But it turns out he’d been ready for a different Cas, one he’d thought up in his head - because the real Cas, the Cas he loves, is too afraid to face him and Dean has no idea how long that’ll last. He has no idea when or even if Cas will come to him. Every moment that passes could be the moment before Cas finally talks to him. It’s agony. It’s wonderful.

But he meant it when he said that Cas deserves everything he wants. So why should Cas have to seek it out, when Dean could just give it to him?

“I need to find him, huh,” Dean says, and it’s not a question.

“Yeah, man. You should do that,” Sam agrees. There isn’t an ounce of admonishment in his voice. He’s just supporting Dean, and for once, Dean is grateful.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he says,

Time to find the angel.

concluded in chapter 2. read the rest on ao3.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #fanfic #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #my fic #dean winchester butterfly hunter #butterfly hunter

183 notes · View notes

haus-seeblick · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 1! “Harvest”

My first ficlet for Suptober! Read under the cut :)

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,218

Tags: Fluff, Disaster Bi Dean Winchester, Daydreaming about hot farmers, Some suggestive language (and swearing), Angelic wheat harvest assistance, The Dom Brow makes an appearance, Sam Ships It, Mini Case Fic

On AO3 here.

“All right,” Dean announces as he stomps into the hospital room, trailing mud with every step. “You’re not gonna have a problem anymore, Randy.”

The man propped up on the hospital bed cushions glares at Dean from under bushy eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time,” he snaps. “First these-- these things terrorize my fields for weeks, then y’all show up and are so useless that they maim me after you’re already on the case, and now I’ve lost the prime window to harvest a year’s worth o’ growth ‘cause I’m laid up in this godforsaken facility. So don’t you tell me I ain’t gonna have a problem anymore.”

Dean sinks down onto the rickety plastic chair next to the bed, moving gingerly to avoid jostling his (probably) dislocated shoulder, courtesy of some extremely vengeful spirits. He fixes Randy with an even gaze.

“Man, I’m sorry about your leg. I am. The spirits had a wider range than we thought and we figured you’d be safe at the house.”

Randy snorts in obvious derision, his scruffy mustache fluttering comically. Dean presses on.

“But, we’ve put them to rest. Your great-grandparents aren’t gonna give you any more grief.” Even if the rest of your family did totally fuck them over.

He stands again, awkwardly, and pats Randy’s good knee. “Sorry about your harvest, though. Can anyone help out? Neighbors? Friends?”

Randy glowers. “I ain’t takin’ no charity.”

Dean quirks his lips and nods. “Right. Take it easy, Randy.” He leaves the still-grumbling farmer behind, following his own trail of mud back down the hallway. A tall janitor lurking around the corner sends him a death glare and Dean tries for an appropriately apologetic smile.

It’s been a real headache of a night.

The pair of spirits haunting Randy Johnson’s wheat fields ended up being way more pissed off than Sam, Dean, and Cas had anticipated. By the time Cas located the heavy brass key to the farmhouse that was apparently tethering the property-line-obsessed spirits to the material plane, Dean and Sam were long out of rock salt. In their retreat, they’d ended up waist-deep in a pebbly creek, splashing and wobbling as they beat off the screeching spirits with crowbars. Dean has an unfortunately-placed boulder to thank for his dislocated shoulder -- he went down hard and clumsy just as Cas reappeared next to the stream, the old key melting dramatically in the bright glow of his palm.

The spirits burned away in a shower of sparks, along with Dean’s dignity.

To top it all off, Dean drew the short straw to go tell Randy the case was closed, and he may have stomped off in a sulky huff before thinking of asking Cas or Sam to put his shoulder right.

Oh, well. At least it’s dealt with. One more night in their more-stained-than-usual motel room, and first thing in the morning they’ll get the hell outta Dodge (almost literally - they’re up in Osborne County).

Dean thinks of a bright July morning on the open road and sighs in relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He doesn’t get his wish.

“I just feel bad, Dean!” Sam protests as Dean gesticulates incredulously at him. (His shoulder was very pleasantly healed by Cas the night before, and if Dean noticed that Cas’ warm hands lingered a little longer on his skin than was technically necessary for a cursory dislocation repair, he didn’t mention it.)

“God, Sammy, yeah, it sucks about the guy’s leg, but maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole to everyone he knows, somebody’d help him out! It’s not-- it can’t be our problem.”

Sam crosses his arms stubbornly. “It’s not about Randy. His fields are part of a huge supply that feeds a ton of people. Do you want people to go hungry, Dean?”

Castiel chooses that moment to materialize directly next to Dean, his nose inches away from Dean’s cheek. He’s holding two steaming cups of coffee and Dean immediately grabs one. Cas squints and tilts his head. “Why does Dean want people to go hungry?”

“Oh my god.” Dean throws his free hand up. “Fine. Fucking fine. We’ll find someone who’s willing to plow the dude’s fields. That’ll be easy.”

Sam opens his big mouth, probably to say something about having faith in humanity, but Cas beats him to it. Still planted firmly in Dean’s bubble, he sends a puff of warm air against Dean’s face as he speaks.

“Oh. I can do it.”

Dean and Sam both look at him. Dean shuffles back a couple steps and wills his eyes away from the guy’s lips. He really spends too much time staring at them.

“Um--” Sam clears his throat. “You can harvest Randy’s wheat?”

“I can plow, yes.” Cas nods firmly. Dean’s first sip of coffee comes spraying back out. He pounds his chest and wheezes.

“Like-- like-- with a combine?”

Cas furrows his brow. “Is that a machine? No, I don’t require machinery. This is a very basic task.”

“Plowing,” Dean says weakly.

“Harvesting,” Cas corrects, tilting his chin down and narrowing his eyes. “Humans have been doing it for a very long time. I used to help, now and again. I can’t imagine the process has changed much.”

Sam slaps his thighs as he stands up from his bed. “Well! Look at that, Dean. Cas doesn’t want people to go hungry.”

Dean flips him off, but it lacks the usual heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, they find themselves on the edge of a vast, lazily undulating expanse of gold. They’d skirted the north edge of the field extensively while working the spirit case, since the activity was strongest there along the creek, but in his single-minded focus Dean hadn’t really paid much attention to the field itself.

It’s big. Like, squint-into-the-distance-and-you-can’t-see-the-end big.

“You’re really gonna plow all that?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas. The morning sun is turning the tips of Cas’ hair a chestnut gold.

“I will cut down the stalks, separate the grain from the chaff, and deposit the edible grain into a large truck, which apparently takes it where it needs to go,” Cas says matter-of-factly. “I visited Randy early this morning to make sure I knew which truck it was.”

Sam laughs. “Oh yeah? How’d good old Randy take that?”

“He seemed dubious,” Cas says. “And rude. I assured him that despite his unsavory attitude, he would come home to harvested fields.”

“Very angelic of you,” Sam remarks.

“So how’s this gonna go?” Dean lifts a hand to block out the steadily-rising sun. “You gonna be flapping back and forth? Probably not smart to let the locals clock an angel doing the harvest.”

Cas arches an eyebrow at him, somehow gazing down at Dean despite being an inch shorter. “I don’t flap, Dean. I may have wings, but their movement in the ether is beyond your comprehension.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns his face away in a show of studying the field to the north, but mostly to conceal the flush of his cheeks in response to that eyebrow.

For Christ's sake, keep it together, Winchester.

“I can’t explain to you how it will look,” Cas continues, oblivious. “You’ll just have to watch. Anything you see will be for your eyes only. I guarantee no locals will ‘clock me.’”

Dean looks back just in time to see the tail end of the finger quotes. Cas is staring right at him, that damn eyebrow still up, a subtle challenge, daring Dean to make a move.

Maybe not so oblivious. Asshole.

Dean smiles sweetly and gestures at the wheat. “All right then. Have at it, buddy. Show us what you’ve got.”

With no further ado, Cas is gone. Dean’s left staring through the previously-Cas-occupied space at his brother, who’s grimacing with an air of great suffering.

“What?” Dean demands.

Sam sighs heavily and gazes out over the field. “You two are so weird.”

Dean’s about to respond with something really witty when Sam perks up and points into the distance. “Holy crap, look!”

Dean follows the path of Sam’s outstretched finger and his mouth drops open. On the horizon, at the far end of the field, there’s a cloud. No-- a mini tornado. A golden tornado. A… sparkly tornado?

“What the--” Dean cups his hands around his eyes like blinkers. Even with the glare of the sun blocked out, though, the tornado is just as bright -- a swirling, racing funnel criss-crossing the field way faster than a combine, or even Baby, could drive.

“Why is it-- what’s the sparkly stuff?”

Sam’s squinting too. “I think it’s the pieces of the stalks he’s separating? And they catch the light as they get tossed around.”

The tornado’s already halfway across the field, approaching them steadily. It’s about as tall as an oak tree, and as it gets closer Dean sees that Sam was right: thousands of little stalks and bits of grain and -- what had Cas called it? -- chaff are whirling and flitting amid the twisting golden dust of the tornado. The effect is a bit dizzying, kind of like that ocular migraine Dean had one time as a teenager, when an aura of tiny flashing spots obscured his vision, right there in his eye yet impossible to focus on.

He steps back instinctively, Sam mirroring his movement, when the tornado grows close to them. It whips past, blowing Dean’s jacket open, and where there was once chest-high golden grain, there’s now just dirt littered with aborted stalks.

“Damn,” Dean whispers. He’s seen Cas do all kinds of badass things, of course, but they’ve been more of the smiting and heavy-lifting variety. This is a new level of cool. In a farmer-y way. This, of course, leads Dean’s traitorous brain directly to images of worn flannel stretched tight over biceps; of a blade of hay dangling jauntily from chapped lips; of long, strong fingers gripping a pitchfork--

“--Dean!”

The pleasantly-evolving bubble bursts. Dean twitches as Sam elbows him in the ribs.

“Dude! Cas is done, come on.”

Dean blinks a few times to bring himself back to reality (a reality with wheat-harvesting angel tornados) and realizes that Sam’s heading north along the field to where a normal-sized, non-funnel-cloudy Cas is standing, brushing off his trenchcoat. Dean follows his brother and takes in the scene; the whole field really has been reduced to nothing -- just a flat, dappled expanse.

“Damn, Cas,” he says quietly as he reaches Cas’ side. His voice comes out strained and a little breathless. “That was some good plowing.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Can replies gravely. He tugs on his cuffs and some wheat dust puffs out. “It was an effective harvest. I disguised myself from mortal eyes -- including yours -- as I transported the grain to the truck, but I trust you saw the rest?”

Sam nods enthusiastically and launches straight into a barrage of questions about the physics and techniques and yadda yadda before Dean has to come up with a response. Yeah, I saw it. Yeah, it got me all tingly. That’s normal. He takes a few deliberate, slow breaths to calm the pounding in his chest.

Still tuning Sam out, he zeroes in on a single piece of wheat still stuck in Cas’ hair. It’s poking up toward the blue summer Kansas sky -- a tiny, trembling link between earth and heaven. Dean sidles up to Cas before he can overthink it. He slips his fingers into Cas’ wild, dark hair and plucks the wheat out.

He throws it on the ground. It belongs to the earth.

Sam falls silent with a choked-off laugh and Cas turns his trademark unblinking stare onto Dean. But this time there’s a slight crinkle to the edges of his eyes. A quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says again. He reaches out and -- Dean stops breathing -- brushes another piece of wheat out of Dean’s collar. His warm fingers graze Dean’s throat and all Dean can do is watch the little stalk flutter to the ground.

Well. So much for a steady heartbeat.

“Hey, I’ve got stuff in my hair, too,” Sam announces, voice thick with amusement. “Anyone gonna help me out?”

Dean tears his eyes away from the enlightening piece of wheat and points a finger at Sam, leveling him with his sternest shut the fuck up face. He prays his cheeks aren’t flaming.

“If you need assistance, Sam--” Cas says, starting toward him.

“--He’s fine,” Dean interjects hastily. Maybe a little loudly. He coughs to cover it up. Smooth. “Let’s go. I wanna hit the road.”

Sam’s already jogging away before Dean’s done speaking. “I’ve still got the keys,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll warm up the car. You guys can catch up!”

Cas and Dean are left at the edge of the empty field. Dean rubs his neck and shuffles his feet, acutely aware of Cas’ piercing gaze. It’s nearly warmer than the morning sun. “Uh-- that was really cool, Cas. Thanks for letting us see it.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies, measured and deep. “I enjoyed sharing that with you.”

Wow. All right. Dean needs to get moving or he’s going to explode. But not before filing that particular comment away for extensive mental perusal later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

He flashes a grin and punches Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, farmer angel. Let’s go home.”

#suptober21 #destiel #minific #i had fun with this #this is the first fic I'm ever posting y'all!#happy harvest

36 notes · View notes

demenior · 3 years

Text

Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons:

I love talking about my own work and

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories.

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God.

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’.

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency.

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics.

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression.

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question.

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”.

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish?

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance!

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired).

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc.

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years.

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did.

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.)

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

#the love it takes series #to exist again fic #to become a man fic #dem speaks

9 notes · View notes

pallasperilous · 4 years

Text

Funny Bone

The other day Supernatural9917 threw out this meme as a cracky Halloween Dean/Cas prompt and I was SO MAD, because I then had to write it:

And so here it is. Goddammit.

Funny Bone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761150 Words: 4930 Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Skeletons, Bad Pick-Up Lines, No Angels AU, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Gore Mature (mentions of lewd acts, canon-typical violence, and some truly horrible pickup lines)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland. It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Discovering the bunker in the first place was a helluva surprise. The whole facility is legitimately batshit; Dead Guys of Letters knew how to live (and, apparently, die. All at once.).

But after plowing through a dozen rooms worth of priceless treasures and crusty boobytraps, even Sam was looking kinda full up on shock and awe.

“We can hit the basement tomorrow,” he said. There was a big smudge of dust across his nose and some cobwebs in his hair.

“Nuh uh,” Dean answered, kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot. “If there’s shit still kicking down there, we gotta clean it out before it cleans us out. It’s that or we’re sleepin’ in the car.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, as if twenty minutes ago he hadn’t been losing his mind over a rare book about werewolf hemorrhoids.

So discovering that the basement included a no-shit actual dungeon felt more like an unanticipated bonus, and stumbling across a skeleton while exploring it barely even registered. Skeletons and dungeons! They go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor, inside a big circle of greasy black ash. It looked a little mildewy in in places. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

“Welp,” Dean had said, holstering his gun and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re all clear. Let’s head back upstairs, salt the shit out of everything, and then we can pick up some groceries.”

“Do I get to buy a vegetable that doesn’t fit in a bun, or are we still in the refractory period?” Sam snarked from the corridor.

“I don’t see you cookin’, “ Dean started, shuffling back towards the hall, and that’s when the skeleton butted in.

“Are those astronaut pants?” it asked. “Because your ass is outta this world!”

Dean absolutely did not scream, but it’s possible there was a yelp.

He almost unloaded a clip into it – unclear what that would’ve possibly done, but it’s good to start with the simple, available solutions. Next he nabbed the lighter fluid off of Sam and dumped out half a pound of kosher salt as a chaser and set the fucker alight.

This does not have the intended effect.

“Baby, I’d like to put my meat on your grill,” the skeleton says, greenish flames dancing between its ribs, “because you’re hot, and I’m smokin’.” Then it sits up a little, just enough to shoot Dean some finger guns.

“What the fuck,” Dean says.

Sam makes a little evaluatory noise. “Sexually harassed by a skeleton,” he chuckles. “I think that’s a new one. Even for you. Is that a new one? I know a lot of strange shit went down in Purgatory.”

The skeleton perks up even more at that, grungy eye sockets sweeping up and down Dean’s body. “Are you a time traveler?” it asks. (Maybe he asks, because the voice is pretty deep and dude-ish, although possibly just on account of its vocal cords being leather shoelaces.)

“Wh…no, I’m not a time traveler,” Dean fibs. He’s more of a time trafficking victim, anyway. “Oh, wait, god,” he says. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking that because –“

“– I can see you in my future,” the skeleton finishes, eagerly, and Dean really wishes this thing had eyebrows so he could tell if they’re waggling.

“Yeah, okay. That’s enough for today,” Dean groans. “I need a drink.” He starts to back out of the room as a pre-emptive strike against Bones commenting on how he hates to see Dean leave, but loves to watch him go. Dean’s working on stumbling back again Sam’s left shoe when the skeleton pipes up one last time, this time with a husky, anxious edge.

“I realize that Purgatory isn’t accessible through a simple chronological shift,” it says, teeth chattering. “But it does require travel between modalities, and if you’re capable of that, I would very much like to speak with you again.”

Dean and Sam’s heads slowly swivel back towards the skeleton, like two little pizzas on the same Lazy Susan.

An hour later, they’re still in the dungeon, working on dousing the skeleton with every possible anti-bad-stuff solution they’ve got, just in case he’s a vampire skeleton or a ghoul skeleton or a witch skeleton or maybe just a wendigo that’s incredibly bad at its job. In between progress reports, he’s still hitting on Dean.

“Dude, don’t you have an off switch somewhere?” Dean asks him.

“Well, Dean, you certainly make me feel like a light switch,–“

“– because you turn me on,” all three of them say in unison.

The skeleton looks a little embarrassed, which is kind of impressive when you think about it. “You’ve…heard that one before?” he asks.

“I spend a lot of time in bars,” Dean deadpans. “Okay, sage is a no-go.”

Sam strikes a line off on the clipboard he found upstairs. “Is this part of a curse or something?” he asks, glancing up at Bones. “Like on top of being a sentient skeleton, you can only speak in horrible pickup lines?”

The skeleton shakes his head, which produces a sound Dean recognizes from his kneecaps on cold mornings. “No, the spellwork allows me to speak freely on most subjects; except who I am, or how to free me. But it’s helpful to use language modern humans can easily understand.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, it is Dean’s native tongue,” Sam says, smirking.

“You shut your face,” Dean hisses.

“When I first saw you, I lost my tongue. Can I try yours on for size?” Bones asks Dean.

“Buddy, I don’t know where you get your information from, but nobody actually talks that way,” Dean tells him. “Nobody sober, anyway. Who isn’t a virgin.”

The skeleton slumps. “I learned from my last visitor. He tried to release me on several occasions, but he either died or abandoned the project.”

Dean arches a brow. “The project being…you?”

“I would be very valuable under the right circumstances.” The skeleton shrugs and casually holds out an arm for Dean to scrape at with the demon blade. “He gave me lessons in modern vernacular as a way to pass our time together.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Dean says, before he can catch himself. “If you have a peach-related pickup line in there, man, you’d better just sit on it.”

“That’s what-“

“I will smash you with a hammer,” Dean barks.

The skeleton relents, but with obvious reluctance.

They call it quits before Kansas rolls up the sidewalk for the night and leaves them stranded with nothing but two Clif bars and a gross of septuagenarian cans of franks ’n beans. Bones shifts nervously when Dean leaves – “Which is better, pancakes or waffles?” he asks.

“Pancakes,” Dean says, with a sense of grim duty.

“Because I’d like to know what you’re making me for breakfast,” says Bones, his voice trailing off as Dean books it down the stony corridor.

By lunch the next day (bologna sandwiches, so sue him, he’ll make something good later) they’re pretty sure that Bones doesn’t pose any known, immediate threat – other than to Dean’s sanity – so they switch gears to springing him. Maybe he will be worth something, or maybe he’ll crumble into dust and Be Free, or maybe he’ll just stop being chained to the basement wall, in which case he can become their skeleton butler or something.

There are weird runes on the ankle cuff, so Sam snaps some quick photos and heads upstairs to feel up the library. This leaves Dean in the basement with Bones, some good old-fashioned power tools, and Bones’s ex-suitor’s gross sense of humor.

“You know I can understand you just fine when you’re talking normally,” Dean says. “You’re just reciting some prehistoric shit that idiots say to girls to get a pity-laugh, hoping it leads to a pity-fuck.”

“What’s a pity-fuck?” Bones asks, all mildewy innocence. Dean’s pretty sure the grunge in his eyeball sockets is dried eyeball.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin, my guy,” Dean answers, and reaches for the acetylene torch.

“Enochian,” Sam says, when Dean surfaces for another sandwich and possibly a beer. He’s really disappointed about the torch.

“Gesundheit?” Dean replies, around a mouthful of bologna. Like everything else here, the kitchen is pretty schwa, although the inside of the fridge required three exorcisms and half a jug of bleach.

Sam paws around the smelly old book in a way that makes Dean feel sorry for the girls Sam dated in high school. “The symbols on the cuff. I think they’re Enochian. It’s a fake celestial language made up by some sixteenth century con artists.”

Dean coughs up a bit of Wonder Bread. “I respect the hustle, but what’s it doing on an ankle cuff in a dungeon younger than Mickey Mouse?”

Sam frowns. “Well, it could be for show. But just because some nutbars made it up doesn’t mean it’s totally powerless. Maybe it does have some kind of…heavenly mojo.”

“Liwl probbem,” Dean observes, finishing off his sandwich. “Def nuh heggen.”

“Huh?”

Dean takes a swallow of beer. “I said: there’s no heaven.”

Sam shrugs. “We didn’t think there was a Purgatory, either.”

“Okay, but if we find out angels are real,” Dean snorts, “then Bones can fuck me in the ass.”

Sam reports his findings to Bones, who sits placidly on the back of his pelvis, carpals splayed out on his kneecaps. What’s even holding him together? Dean can see what’s left of his ligaments, but they look like petrified gas station jerky.

“Do you know what they mean?” Sam asks him, pointing at the sigils.

Bones’s jaw creaks open a little, then closes again, and then he shakes his skull (something rattles inside.) Finally he makes a little frustrated noise and replies – “Baby, are you a book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

“Hey!” says Dean. “Keep it in your pants, man, I’m right here.”

Sam squints. “I think…Dean, I think he’s trying to tell us something, but the spell on him means he can’t say it directly.”

Bones clenches his fists, releases them, clenches them again.

“Yeah. Keep him talking. Let’s see how close he can get.”

Clack clack clack.

“Uh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Do I need to, like. Give you some kinda opening?” he asks Bones.

“Sweetheart, I’d like nothing better,” Bones answers, then clacks his knuckles on his brow with exasperation.

“Sorry, Christ. Hit me with your best shot, buddy. Dealer’s choice.”

Bones clears his…ghost throat? and tries: “Tell me, Dean…did it hurt?”

Dean blinks. “When I…fell from heaven?”

Sam claps his hands. “Fucking knew it. It is Enochian, and it does have something to do with this. I think he wants me to check the library for another book. Maybe there’s one misshelved or something that I can actually use to translate. Or I can Google around, maybe there’s a subreddit.”

Dean’s pretty sure Bones has never heard of a Google or a subreddit (for that matter, does Dean actually know what a subreddit is?), but it seems like there’s a glimmer of hope deep in those scum-holes.

Sam gets translations for a few of the words – “obedience” and something he’s fifty percent sure means “millstone” – but the rest is still gobbledygook, and he hasn’t come down with another update in hours. The dungeon is pretty roomy, but it’s not like there’s a foosball table or a cable TV pickup down there, so Dean and Bones wind up lying on the cold-ass ground, staring up into the dark reaches of the ceiling together and, like. Chatting.

Occasionally Bones goes quiet and Dean glances over at him. He really could just be a totally normal, completely dead dungeon skeleton. A good power washing and the right mounting hardware and he’d be ready for a high school biology classroom.

“So if these runes are a celestial thing, does that mean you’re some kinda demonic...thing?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta say, you’re a much less of a douche than the demons I’ve met.” He snorts. “I know you probably can’t say.”

Bones sighs (how? With what lungs?). “The last person who tried to free me was a demon.” He shifts a little, maybe surprised that he can say this out loud. “It had been so long since somebody had spoken to me…I’m afraid I came close to actually enjoying his company. But he was no better than his kind usually are.”

“Don’t suppose you caught his name? Maybe Sam or me killed him for you already.”

“He called himself—no, I can’t say it.” He makes a sound resembling a harumph.

Then his skull creaks over to look at Dean. “Does your name start with ‘C’?” he says, very deliberately.

Dean is momentarily puzzled, but he works it out by the time Bones wincingly adds “…because I’ve got a D that wants to come behind you.”

There aren’t too many demons under the “C” tab in Dean’s blood-stained mental rolodex, and when he says the name out loud, Bones makes a sound like an entire set of dominos being thrown down a spiral staircase.

Crowley is pretty pissed, which is fun.

It’s nice that the dungeon floor already has a perfect trap on the floor; they don’t even have to hit up Ace Hardware for paint. A damp shop cloth and a little nail polish (Wet ’n Wild in “Red Red,” don’t leave home without it) brings it right up to working order.

“Why does it smell like a nail salon fucked a bloody wine cellar?” Crowley says, after he’s settled down a bit. He manifested right in the creepy torture chair (in the shackles, even! What service!) and he made some escape attempts followed by angry noises about rust stains. Now he’s recovered his dignity and has kicked back a bit, legs crossed, fingers steepled, oozing maximum levels of 2 cool 4 school.

“How do you know what a nail salon smells like?” Dean retorts.

“I get a monthly mani-pedi. There’s no shame in a little self-care, boys.” Crowley’s eyes trickle down to their feet. “Imagine what fungal horrors those work boots must conceal.” Then he squints, and looks up, finally taking in the whole room. “Could swear I’ve been here before. Little upscale for you, isn’t it? Did we splurge for a vacation rental?”

“Crowley, why don’t we roleplay Titanic?” Bones growls from the wall behind him, and Crowley’s face goes slack. “I’ll be the iceberg, and you can go down.”

Crowley swallows and slowly twists back, as far as the shackles let him. “Feathers, is that you? Well, as I live and breathe.”

“You do neither,” says Bones, with so much gravelly contempt that Dean suppresses a little shiver.

“Oh, I still breathe now and then, when the mood takes me. I’m a sentimentalist.” Crowley cranes his neck a little harder and squints into the dim. “Goodness, you’ve dropped some weight since we last spoke, haven’t you. Finally let go of all that pesky soft tissue?”

Bones tilts forward and kind of clatters onto hands and knees, then tipsily begins to rise up to standing. Dean’s a little concerned he’s gonna topple right over and they’re gonna spend the next two hours collecting him in a basket, but when he moves to help out, Bones waves him off. After a couple false starts he makes it up onto his feet bones and then shuffles out to the end of his chain, right under one of the overhead lights. He’s still a good couple feet off from Crowley, but Crowley looks like he wouldn’t mind a few extra acres.

Bones sways a little bit, just enough for Crowley to wince. “You didn’t come back.”

“I got busy.”

Sam shifts impatiently. “What is he?” he snaps, gesturing at Bones.

“Exceedingly dull,” Crowley says. “I should’ve guessed you were friends.”

Dean uncorks a fresh bottle of holy water.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Crowley amends, quickly. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’d be like giving a laptop to a pair of howler monkeys.”

Dean puts his thumb over the mouth of the water bottle and holds it over Crowley’s head. “Try me.”

Crowley scoffs, rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he is, since he’s useless as long as he’s chained up. And I wouldn’t have left him down here if I had a single clue how to smuggle him out. I haven’t even been in here since the Bay of Pigs; I’d worked a loophole in one of the defense spells here that let me in. When it broke down, I lost my exploit. Wasn’t worth the bother after that.”

Dean slides his thumb a millimeter north of a perfect seal, and a fat drop of water busts its ass open on Crowley’s forehead and sends up a thin line of steam. “Good thing I’ve got a limitless supply of bother,” Dean notes. “Sam, we still got those syringes in the trunk?”

Crowley snarls. “Go ahead and melt me like the cartoon shoe in Roger Rabbit, it’s not going magically make me come up with a solution.”

Bones grunts and rattles his leg chain. “Do you speak Spanish, Crowley? Because you look like the Juan for me.”

“Did I teach you that one? You absolute xylophone.” Crowley glances back at Dean. “Do your worst, Squirrel, I deserve it.”

Sam frowns. “He uses the lines to get around the spell’s speech restrictions. This is something about speaking languages…were you able translate the Enochian symbols on his cuff?”

Crowley blinks. “What symbols?”

After a whole lot of faffing around with mirrors and terrible cellphone photography, they confirm that Crowley can’t see the symbols at all.

“More demon-proofing. Clever little buggers, those Men of Letters,” Crowley sighs. “A real shame they were peeled and eaten like bananas.”

Finally Sam just hunkers down with a pencil and pad to transcribe the entire ankle cuff, and Dean awkwardly holds up Bones’s ankle, like he’s being sized for a glass slipper. When they shove the results in Crowley’s face, Dean watches his eyes dart along the words.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, boys. Along with the usual wankery, there are instructions on how to release the cuff. I can translate it,” he finally says, with an unusually low inflection of bullshit, “but I’ll thank you to release me, first.”

Dean is flummoxed. “What, you’re not gonna haggle for a cut of the profits or anything?”

“Activating the release mechanism will free him completely, and restore his…restore him. I’d rather be at a safe distance.” He glances back at Bones, looming in the shadows. “A continent or three should do the trick.”

“If it doesn’t work–“

“I’d be more worried about what happens if it does,” Crowley sighs. “But feel free to summon me back for tea and sympathy. Here, I’ll even give you my number. But please, no personal photography. I pity you enough as it is.”

Crowley finally smokes out, and Dean has a beer to celebrate while Sam looks over the list of what they need and Bones clatters his fingertips like castanets. The ingredients are (as always) larded with shit that’s exotic and expensive; Sam is looking crestfallen at some of the items. “I’ve heard of all of this, but I’ve only seen maybe half of it for sale anywhere.”

“Baby, are you a yard sale? Because you’ve got some serious junk in that trunk,” Bones monotones. He’s back to lying on the floor.

At least it’s getting easier to translate this shit. “They’ve got all the ingredients here somewhere,” Dean says. Sam looks skeptical. “C’mon, Sam, no way these dudes would use a lock when they didn’t have the key.”

The ensuing scavenger hunt takes a few pints of elbow grease, but at least by the end they’re both familiar with the Bunker’s floor plan, document filing system, and inventory records. They find virtually everything in-house, though they do end up driving to the nearest farm stand for some hen’s eggs and rosemary (and heirloom tomatoes, because they look bomb).

Dean christens – or maybe exorcises – the kitchen range with some red meat, and they fuel up with burgers before taking the plunge. Dean’s still licking the ketchup off his fingers when Bones pipes up one last time. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dean and Sam brace for impact.

Bones sighs. “That’s not the start of a pickup line. I genuinely have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so intent on freeing me? You could have just left me down here. I’m not a threat this way. You only have Crowley’s word that you might profit - or suffer - from my release.”

Sam gives Dean a look; it’s the look that says I sure hope you have an answer, because I think this entire thing has been dumb as shit and half as necessary. It’s a look Sam uses pretty regularly.

“Uh. It’s the right thing to do? As far as I can tell, you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything else to deserve being down here. We went through all those records upstairs, and there’s no note that says ‘by the way, that skeleton downstairs eats babies for breakfast.’ This place is cool, but the dudes who built it were obviously shady as fuck.”

“I see.” Bones sounds a little disappointed.

Sam fake-coughs into his hand, and Dean sets down his paper napkin. “Also, you seem cool. Like, you’re easy to hang out with. Other than the stinky one-liners, and we’re gonna wean you off of those.”

Bones straightens himself out a little. “Thank you, Dean. You know, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rate you a nine.”

“Okay, okay. Why not a ten?”

Bones sets his chin on his knuckle bones with a tidy little clack. “Because I’m the one you’re missing.”

Dean groans, but he thinks the guy might be smiling, somewhere behind that skeletal grin.

By hour two, Sam’s pretty tuckered out from pulverizing a billion and three mummified dove livers while reciting nonsense syllables, and Dean’s right arm is about to fall off from holding up this giant silver swizzle stick that’s either a really weird short sword or a decorative javelin, but Bones has never looked perkier. He’s lying on a nice white bedsheet and looking fresh as a recently exhumed daisy.

“Okay,” Sam rasps. “Light the candle and we should be good to go. Any last words, Bones?”

“Are either of you religious?” He crosses his arm bones over each other.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers, before Sam gets a chance to launch into it.

Bones shakes his skull fondly. “You should reconsider. Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

Dean makes a gagging noise and lights the candle.

What happens next (well, after the cuff pops open) is some of the freakiest shit that Dean has ever seen, and his Freaky CV is pretty fucking impressive, thanks. Bones tells them to avert their eyes, “just in case”, but he takes a peek between his fingers anyway, because he’s an idiot.

For a second Bones is just lying there, and Dean has a second of real disappointment that maybe he’s Moved On Past The Veil or something, but then he starts…foaming. It starts out kind of uniform and colorless, but then it really picks up speed and volume and starts to separate into swaths of distinct and horrible colors and textures. He closes his eyes again for a second to give his stomach a chance to reboot, and when he looks again the foam is gone, and instead there’s a whole lot of angry jelly trying to form into organs.

Just as the jelly is really getting its shit together and looking more like lungs and intestines and stuff, the heart-jelly pulses once and sends out a fistful of big squishy vines…veins? and a fat white worm of nerve scrambles down the spinal column and starts putting out franchises. This is followed by some disturbingly tasty-looking red sheets of muscle that swiftly sheathe over all the whole scene, and then the muscles start sweating out fat and cartilage and this is the point where Dean decides that looking away is actually definitely one hundred percent for the best. Even then, the sounds are tough to handle.

Kinda wild: he’s seen people taken apart, but watching one get put back together is somehow gnarlier. Well, if this guy is even a person. It’s a human skeleton, sure, but god knows even Mickey Rourke has one under there.

Finally everything seems to have quieted down.

“How you doin’ over there, Bones?” Dean asks, and dares to take a peek.

Bones is crouched down in front of them, fists balled up in the bedsheets (it’s a relief that the bedsheets didn’t get accidentally sucked into the muscle layer or something, like one of those surgeons who leaves a sponge behind). Dean sees white guy skin and some dark messy hair and gets the gist of a decent build.

The face slowly cranes upwards, and Dean is really truly ready for anything here; tusks, fangs, Klingon forehead ridges, gingivitis. Instead he gets a faceful of hot math teacher. Bones’s eyes are still closed, but he’s frowning like he’s mentally reviewing his strategy to explain the quadratic equation to a roomful of horny teens.

He slowly rises to standing (yikes! Naked! Dean is a Moderately Bad Man, so he glances, but just long enough to register “nice), uncurling slowly and carefully.

Then he’s all the way up. Bones squares his shoulders and straightens the last kink in his spine, and the frown resolves. Dean’s about to say something, when his eyes snap open, and this cold white light absolutely blasts out of them, and fuck, Crowley wasn’t kidding: this guy is definitely A Thing. The whole room flattens and distorts in the light. Shadows race up the walls like they’re looking for a way out, then snap together into the shape of enormous ragged wings, stretching thirty feet higher than the actual ceiling clearance.

Then the light dies down; the wings fade into regular-grade shadows. Instead of a terrifying unearthly avatar of Oh Shit, Dean’s looking at a buck naked thirty-something math teacher. Who happens to be an unearthly avatar of Oh Shit. And has nice eyes.

“My name is Castiel, angel of the Lord, Seraph of the First Shield,” the avatar says, in a piss-shakingly resonant version of Bones’s voice.

Then: “Do you speak English, Dean?”

“Yes?” Dean fumbles.

“So do I,” says Castiel, and smiles.

Then he makes finger-guns.

Castiel sticks around for a grand total of five minutes before he’s suddenly gone again, because angels are (a) real and they can (b) teleport? at (c) any moment because (d) fuck you, then he reappears six hours later (clothed) standing over Dean’s bed, having apparently forgotten that humans like to sleep; this time Dean does shoot him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it personally.

“I located Crowley,” Bo- Castiel says. The silver sword-javelin thing is sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; apparently it’s an Angel Blade and it lives in Castiel’s coat sleeve and can vaporize demons. It doesn’t look like it has any Crowley on it, but maybe it’s self-cleaning.

“Did you kill him?” Dean asks, now that he’s semi-coherent and wrapped around a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Not this time,” Cas answers. “He did help, after all.”

“Sure,” says Dean.

“You don’t need to let me fuck you in the ass, either,” Castiel says, and Dean honks some coffee up the back of his nose.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Didn’t realize you could hear that convo all the way down there.”

“Angels have excellent hearing. Mine wasn’t impacted by the spell.”

Dean can think of at least three very private moments Castiel almost definitely could hear every instant of, and longs for death. Or maybe not, since apparently this guy lives in Heaven and could hear him there, too. “Great. Good to know. Noted.”

“But…” Castiel looks wistful.

“What?” Dean nudges him. Dean Winchester: angel nudger.

Castiel frowns. “If I said…” he stops himself. “This is…what I want to say is very irregular, at least between angels and humans.”

“Jesus christ on a goddamn pogo stick, man. It’s three in the morning, some of us have a circadian rhythm and a limited lifespan. Say whatever it is you gotta say.”

Castiel looks up and drowns Dean in his swimming pool eyes, which Dean has learned belong to a radio ad salesman in Illinois, who Castiel possessed a few years back before jumping several decades into the past to run some errands and getting rope-a-doped by the Men of Letters and then warehoused in their basement; after they all spontaneously bought the farm, he just slowly ran out of the power reserves needed to keep his vessel from turning to mush and hey presto, talking skeleton.

Classic story, really.

“If I said you had a beautiful body, Dean,” Castiel says, solemnly, “Would you hold it against m-“

Dean doesn’t let him finish. {AO3 version}

#spn fanfic #destiel #deancas #profoundnet #prompt fic

140 notes · View notes

super-unpredictable98 · 3 years

Text

Foreign Dreams (Mute AU - Luba x Reader)

Chapter 2: Safe and Sound

Warning: Strong language, nudity, mention of death

(Foreign Dreams Masterlist)

When your shift was over you could barely believe how easy that was. Looks like seduction was natural for you after all, or maybe it was your pure, chaste front that attracted the guys so much and a few girls as well. That was arguably messed up, but as long as the money was coming, you were happy.

It wasn't as weird as you thought it was gonna be, most people were respectful and fun to talk to, which you were grateful for, and if someone wasn't, Luba was quick to take care of it. Rhonna and the security team seemed very much worried about everyone's well being.

"Here, sweetie," Luba handed you half of the tips for the night.

"Are you sure?" you took the money reluctantly.

"Oh, yeah... This is way more than I usually get, you really made those horny bastards open their wallets," he chuckled.

"That's good I guess..."

"I might wanna keep you around for a couple more nights, Mausi" he winked, putting on his long faux-fur coat. "So, would you like me to walk you home?"

"Sure," you smiled.

Oddly enough, Luba wasn't always this sexual creature you met at the parlor. He could be sweet, funny, and even goofy at times, you were enjoying seeing this new side of him as you talked about anything and everything on the way to the hostel.

The conversation never felt forced, there were no awkward silences, it was like the two of you really connected on a deeper level, like long time friends. You were never able to open up to anyone before, but something about him just made you feel protected.

"Well, this is it, home sweet home," you stopped and turned to face the not-so-inviting establishment.

"You're living here?" Luba grimaced.

"Yep, that's all I can afford right now, the plane tickets left me pretty much broke."

"Ok, this might be insane and if you're some kind of serial killer I'm totally fucked, but my roommate just... She just... Went away," He shook his head as if trying to shake away a bad memory. "Why don't you stay with me? At least for a couple of weeks while you get back on your feet?"

"Luba... I don't know what to say," you stared into those deep mossy eyes. No one has ever been so nice to you without any ulterior motives, it almost felt like a trap, but you trusted Luba.

"Say yes, this place isn't safe, especially not for a girl like you."

"See, you keep saying girl like me," you giggled. "I'm not this damsel in distress that you think I am."

"I know, but you're inexperienced, you spent your whole life sheltered from the world, and trust me... I know how bad people can get. Worse than your father, worse than anyone you've ever met."

"Why are you so worried about me?" part of you expected him to say he liked you, but it was silly to think of that, you barely even knew each other.

"I've heard stories, insanely scary stories," he held tightly to your arms. "I don't know what kind of people are in there, for all I know one of them could be like Ca... One of them could hurt you and I would never forgive myself for knowing I could've done something to stop it."

"Okay, let me get my things, I'll be right out."

——————————————————-

"It's not much, but it's safe," Luba opened the door to his flat and gestured as if to say 'ladies first'. "Help yourself, darling, if you're hungry or thirsty the kitchen is over there, the bathroom is the door on the left, and I'll show you where you can put your stuff in a minute, make yourself at home."

"Not much, you say? This is a palace compared to that hostel or the tiny room I grew up in," you spun around the living room, fascinated by the massive window that was almost like an entire wall. You could see all of the beautiful lights of Berlin and the drones flying around, but no one could see you, just like you always wanted.

"See? That's why I like to have you around, you get impressed so easily," Luba dropped his stuff on the couch and sat in front of the huge vanity on the corner to take off his make-up.

"That's the only reason then?"

"What other reason did you expect?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't know... That you think I'm a nice person?" you filled a cup with water and sat on the couch.

"Well, that goes without saying, I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't like you."

"What's this?" you pointed at the wigs and foam pads piled up next to the vanity.

"Oh, this is my drag paraphernalia."

"Drag? What's that?"

"It's an art form, usually it's when a guy dressed up as a girl, but anyone can do it, it's like an exaggeration of the female features. Some of my clients like it."

"I think I've seen a couple of those back in Hollywood."

"I bet you did," Luba laughed. "I love doing it, it's a lot of fun, except for the shoes... ARGH, those high heels kill me! I always feel stupid when I'm walking in heels, looks like I'm drunk."

"You seem so graceful, I can't imagine you ever looking stupid."

"Well, thank you, but I definitely do..."

Luba got up and grabbed your bag, waving for you to follow him into the room. This room hasn't been used ever since Naadirah died, so it was hard for him to be there, but he couldn't stand the idea of letting you stay in that hostel with all those potentially dangerous people.

You couldn't help but watch as he placed your bag on the desk by the wardrobe and got a fresh set of sheets and a blanket. He looked very different without the make-up and with his hair down, just as handsome, but very different.

"What?" Luba looked back at you with a silly smile when he noticed your eyes on him.

"Nothing," you looked away from his pretty face, feeling your cheeks blush. You had no idea a person could be this beautiful.

After you two made the bed, you went straight to the shower, exactly what you needed after a long night of trying to look sexy for people you didn't know.

It was still hard to believe that you actually had a huge bed like that for yourself and a bathroom that you only shared with one other person... It was like a dream.

"Hey, y/n, what would you like for dinner?" Luba came into the bathroom as you were drying yourself.

"Jesus Christ!" you jumped, covering your body with the towel by instinct.

"Oh, Mausi, let's not pretend like I haven't seen you naked before... Well, I actually did much more than just see" he giggled and ran his fingers over your naked shoulder. "Is that why you left the door unlocked? You secretly wanted me to come in?"

"I just got scared," you panted. "I-I forgot to lock... I'm sorry"

"It's fine, here, it's not a big deal," Luba said as he took his own clothes off. "It's just a body, right?"

Your widened eyes and heaving chest brought an amused grin to his face as he stepped into the shower.

"I guess..."

"Tell you what, why don't you order some food? Take my phone, order whatever you want and we can watch a movie or something."

"Don't you think it's a bit late?" You rolled yourself on the towel, trying very hard not to stare at Luba's nakedness.

"Well, my shift at the parlor doesn't start until 4 and our shift at the club doesn't start until 8, it's not like we have to get an early night."

"Yeah, yeah, of course... Is pizza ok?"

"Sure, sounds great," as you took the phone and headed to the living room, Luba turned to face you. His blonde curls damp and his body dripping hot water. "You can stay and watch me if you want. I don't bite... Unless you want me to."

"I don't think that's a very good idea," you reached for the door, feeling that growing tingle on your lower stomach.

"Are you scard of me, Sonnenschein?" he taunted.

"N-no... Why would I be?"

"Oh, I see," he looked you in the eye while rubbing soap on his chest. "You're scared of yourself, of the way I make you feel."

You ignored the commend and left to order dinner, but deep inside you knew, his words couldn't be more accurate. The worst (best) part was that Luba seemed to enjoy how flustered you got, so something was telling you that the teasing was just beginning.

The pizza arrived just as Luba was leaving his room, he was wearing a pair of pink pajama shorts that matched the pink flowy silk robe. His curls were still wet, heavily falling on his shoulders and he smelled like lavender.

You both sat on the couch, the box between you two, and Luba put on an old movie you had never seen before: The Princess Diaries.

"What year is this from?" you asked.

"2001, my mom loves it."

"Nice, I love classic movies," you finally started to get comfortable there, it felt like home.

"Why is this pizza half plain?" Luba grimaced as soon as he opened the box.

"It's my favorite," you shrugged.

"Not even some pepperoni?"

"I don't eat pork."

"And you chose to come live in Germany?" he laughed. "Oh, Mausi..."

That was the first night, in a very long time, that you could actually enjoy yourself. The food was delicious, the movie was great and the company was nice.

You have been living on the run ever since you managed to escape the farm, at times you felt like that chase would never be over, but now... Now you had finally found your place. Maybe this is where you're supposed to be after all.

——————————————————-

You didn't remember falling asleep, it must've happened somewhere in the middle of Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. You didn't wake up on the couch though, you woke up in your bed, with the sound of a soft melody coming from the living room.

When you walked out of your room, you couldn't hold back a loud gasp: Luba was in front of his vanity, finishing up his make-up, his hair completely up. He was wearing a black mini-skirt and a matching black top that usually would be too big for him, but he had a pair of fake boobs on.

"Oh, hi there, Dornröschen," Luba smiled as he put on mascara. "How did you sleep?"

"I haven't slept that well since... Ever," you smiled. "I just don't remember going to the room."

"That's because I carried you," he looked at you through the mirror. "I couldn't let you sleep on the couch, right?"

"Thank you, that was really nice of you."

"No problem, you looked so adorable, I didn’t have the nerve to wake you up... So do you think this outfit goes better with blonde hair or red hair?"

"I like the red."

"Yeah, me too... Makes me look like Jessica Rabbit."

Luba quickly put on a wavy red wig, it was obvious he had lots of practice. Then he put on the high heel shoes and stood up, he turned to give you a full view.

"You look... Fantastic," you stared in awe.

"Danke," he walked towards you, noticing you staring at his breastplate. "Do you like them?"

"They look good on you."

"I'm glad you think so... I gotta go to work now. Do you know how to get to the club from here?"

"Yeah, don't worry," you assured. "If I need help I'll just use the self-navigation."

"Okay, if you need anything send me a text, huh?"

"Sure, have a nice day at work, and thank you so much again... For letting me stay."

"It's nothing, it's good to have company" Luba held your face with one hand and gave you a long kiss on the cheek that made your knees tremble. "See you later, Mausi."

Tag list: @elliethesuperfruitlover @crisis-of-joy @badsext (if you wanna be tagged, let me know)

#mute #mute fanfic #luba mute #mute netflix #luba x reader #robert sheehan character fic #fanfic #imagine #multichapter #mute imagine #robert sheehan x reader

49 notes · View notes

cas-rivaille · 3 years

Text

@reinertiddiejuice

hi there! i saw your matchups were open and i couldn't stop myself </3 so i'd like an aot matchup!!

before i start i want to say thank you for doing these matchups :( even though theyre literally matchups with people who dont exist 💔💔 they comfort us so much so thank you for taking the time to do this and i hope you have a wonderful day :D

now hi! im katie! or katherine, (literally no one has ever used that though), i'm straight, afab, and use she/her pronouns. i'm 5'2, have shoulder length dark brown hair with face framing pieces in the front. basically a wolfcut but more with a more 70s feel, i have an overbite and a slight tooth gap which means i can never fully close my mouth </3. i have dark brown cat eyes, tan skin, and plump lips. the best way to describe my style is a tamer phoebe buffay! eccentric!

my mbti is enfp-t, my enneagram is 7w8 and my big 3 are libra sun, gemini moon, and sagittarius rising!

as for my personality i'm a generally upbeat and giddy person! with people im not that close to im usually laid-back but with people i know i can get really loud and just really let loose! i LOVE using cursing at people im close to. its a form of endearment for me. dont ask me why i dont know either but i just know that i feel safe around someone when i start cursing at them. im a scatterbrain like ive rewritten this so many times just so everything is easier for you to read RIPPP i get insecure at times and im kinda stubborn too its hard for me to get out of that mindset without someone realllyyy pushing me to do better dont ask me how im getting over it now...im not. which is why id like someone who is patient with me </3 and doesnt get mad at why am feeling a certain way. but id like to say im optimistic cause even though im feeling bad, i know in the future ill get better, i just have to work through this.

now im an artistic and expressive person. i love singing and acting! especially with acting, for some reason, pretending to be someone else grounds me in a way? i have no idea how to explain it but after ive finished a monologue, i always feel so calm and so in tune with myself. i also LOVE getting to know peoples little quirks and interests. no matter how "weird" they deem it (within reasoning ofc) i love getting to know what makes people happy! i also get really excited over little things. both literally and figuratively. i love tiny objects which is why the secret world of arriety is my fave studio ghibli movie hAHAHA theyre just so cute and tiny :( and the way you have to handle each item with such care because theyre so small just warms my heart. i also want a ferret. like as a pet. theyre literally the perfect animal theyre so small but theyre energetic MANNNN THATS ALL I WANT THEYD BE SO MUCH FUN TO PLAY WITH. i also adore handmade items. whatever it is, from a cake to a stuffed animal, i love handmade things cause you can see the love and care they put into making it. it doesn't have to be perfect, hell it's better if it isnt because you can see the humanity in the item, you can see that a human being actually made this and it rly does warm my heart :((

now for relationships, its the little things that matter the most to me. if they remembered a small detail i told them, or if they make sure to do something because they know i'll like it, it's just the small details that get me because that means they're really listening and really do care about me.more often than not you'll find me spaced out and find that ive slipped into my imagination again. i do love my little world of scenarios ive created in my head but thats cause i like it more than the present but i know i only do that cause i dont have someone who im reallllyyy close to and someone who i can talk to and be present with so i think once i get into a relationship ill want to spend most of my time with them because they make the present a little more bareable :)

i hope that was enough info for you to work with!! pls take your time!! i'm not in a rush but also if you don't want to do it that's fine :D i wish you the best <3

---

HI OMG THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST !! ITS MY FIRST AOT ONE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT !!

also this is my first time responding to a submission i hope i did it right !!

on another quick note, i love doing requests n matchups n hcs so feel free to ask anytime !! also i totally agree ik me personally i always love fictional character stuff and when i get matchups that i asked my serotonin goes NYOOM

okay so i'm assuming you won't hate me because based off your username i don't think you will, but i got SERIOUS reiner vibes from you. and here's why:

- ik you said you like small things and this totally counteracts it bc reiner is just huge in every aspect,, but like you'd be the small one now and idk i feel like the size difference is s o cute

- reiner loves that you let loose around him and as much as he's a kind loving doting himbo when it comes to you, he would so be down to have a roast war

- HE THINKS YOUR TOOTH GAP IS SO CUTE AHAJSHSHS

- knows you can be scatter brained so he leaves you little notes in places you'll find them and sometimes it's just like "remember to drink water :)"

- he would get you a ferret and the two of you would name it together🥺

- reiner knows you like handmade stuff and he would literally take EVERY opportunity to do smth for you

- hungry ? suddenly he's made your favorite food. tired ? oh look at that there's a knitted blanket on your bed with your name on it that reiner started making whenever you left because he took it up as a hobby and wanted to make you smth

- MUSIC DATES

- everything from playlists to singing and dancing in your room

- if you need an acting buddy, you got one, it's reiner

- PLEASE GIVE HIM CUDDLES HE WOULD BE SO HAPPY TO BE SNUGGLY W YOU

- mmm falling asleep on his chest

- if you spaced out w him he'd let you be in your world or he'd smile and hold hands w you to bring you back :)

- he's such a good listener and is v patient w you

- overall, giant good boi and smol energetic bean duo

- he loves you sm

a/n: I HOPE I DID A GOOD JOB AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ITS MY FIRST AOT REQUEST BUT I HOPE I GET MORE AND HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT AND REMEMBER TO DRINK WATER <3

- cas :)

#submission #aot #aot requests #aot matchups #reiner aot #aot reiner #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #thank you for the request #reiner headcanons #:)#mars on earth

4 notes · View notes

flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

Hey hey hey. I hope you're doing well!! With A court of Silver Flames coming soon, I was wondering what your opinion is about it. Personally I'm rather worried with how the book will go and I just really don't want Nesta to go to the Illyrians Mountains. I want her to say fuck it and whatever happens she does on her own terms. But I don't believe that's very likely and well, 😔. Here's to hoping that Sarah is going to do a great job with the book.

Hope you had a great Christmas and New Year!! ❤️❤️

Hey! I had lovely holidays, I hope you did too :)

I am of...so many minds about the next book. Overall, I really do think its going to be a lot like reading acowar: I’ll enjoy reading it in a light way, but retrospective awareness of plot holes/weird character stuff will keep me from loving it. Fun book not...a masterful book that holds up?

I have MANY wishes for how Nesta’s story would play out, but the ground work for a very different series of events is where acofas left us.

I’ve talked at length about how the Illyria thing seems...bad. I initially tried to be excited?? GOD do I want a nessian book! an Illyrian revolution! But the framework is just..fucked? I’m not down with a romance starting with the woman in the pairing (who has already told her male counterpart to leave her alone) being passed like a recalcitrant pet into his custody.

Do I love a situation with strife and limitations that forces people to see each other? Yes. Do I like this one? Eh.

In particular the setup of this one is functioning on multiple bad levels. Feyre, sending her sister away because she’s decided personal offense? Is the response? To someone clearly at rock bottom and suicidal? Taking away another home, this one Nesta was always sure didn’t want her, proving to Nesta that her sister can’t stand to have her even in the same city.

Rhysand, who I’ve talked about before in this instance. Who wants Nesta gone. If Nesta dies in Illyria, fine. She’ll probably take out some of rebels when she goes. She’s Cassian’s mate? Cool maybe she’ll kill whoever inevitable comes at him. It’s sending an armed nuclear weapon into a failing peace talk. Rhys knows Illyria is on the edge of rebellion.

Cassian. Just- jesus christ, Cassian. It’s like he can’t get it right because he doesn’t trust himself enough, ever, to just go with his first impulse where Nesta is concerned. (See, following Rhysands threat to the letter and NOT SAYING A WORD TO HER AT SOLSTICE, BUT THEN FOLLOWING HER OUT INTO THE DARK BECAUSE HE DID, IN FACT, WANT HOLIDAY TIME WITH HER). He’s maybe hurt her the most?

Which leads me to something else. I am very, very excited to have both of their canon POVs. Because I have questions!

Like, okay, the big failure is obviously the end of that last terrible battle. We see them decide to die together. The kiss. The bloody embrace. Hybern’s death. The promise that probably meant quite literally everything to Nesta.

And then...all we know, from like, a little throwaway sentence is that somehow, the next time we see Cas, moments later, he is a)well enough to stagger off the field (did Nesta try to heal him?), and b) arm in arm with Morrigan.

Mor was, I think, supposed to be protecting Elain? It’s her only action through the entire war, and we never see it happen, and then she.... showed up somewhere behind her charge, who’d just stabbed Hybern...to... rip Cassian out of Nesta’s arms and heal him? Once again be a physical, vicious barrier, while Nesta is too in shock to say anything and Cassian...lets her?

And lets be clear, he had to have let her. I know he’s half dead, but one book before we have Cassian unconscious, scrabbling in a pool of his own blood, completely unaware but still trying to respond to Nesta being tossed in the Cauldron.

He’s aware. Present.

And I want to know why it happened! I want someone to reveal this terrible break, that is, I think, quite literally where Nesta fractured.

Illyrian promises are a Big Deal in-universe. Cassian promised her- and then, does it just not count, because they did not, in fact, die?

He’s not stupid, or cruel- though Cassian’s pride and wounded ego temper does cockblock him CONSTANTLY- what the hell happened?

I’m getting way off topic- but the thing is, as much as I want them together, I think the best outcome for Nesta is to have an ally that isn’t Cassian.

Hello, Emerie.

But! Much like the mountain set up at all, that’s also totally fraught? I’ve said it before, but could there be any bigger insult to Illyrian ladies denied their power, fighting unsuccessfully for rights, for the privilege to be Illyrian...than yet another High Fae lady, this one clearly unwilling, living in their mountains, learning their techniques, from a legendary general???

So yes, I agree, Nesta’s banishment was a pretty shitty call on all accounts.

I like the idea of the Queens being her enemies. That it wasn’t just done, what happened to her and destroyed her life, with Hybern. That Nesta has to face what else the Cauldron made.

(A note though, on power: the narrative needs to decide, SO BADLY, what Nesta’s powers are. Primordial? Deadly? Cool, then Rhysand shouldn’t be pushing her around. The Cauldron canonically made the world, and Nesta canonically took so much of its magic she permanently damaged its function.)

What I would do, if I were writing it, is this: I’d have Cassian let Nesta go.

He takes her out of Velaris. Away from Rhys and Feyre, from everything, and says, you don’t have to come with me.

And it’ll mean- you don’t have to come with me, because I know you don’t want to. I won’t trap you. Now or ever. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Cassian, going in one direction, free in the sky. Nesta, going another, unmoored but choosing it. Cassian handles the Illyrian rebellion, and figuring out what he needs. Nesta heals slow, falls in with the Band of Exiles, whose closeness to human causes leads her back to helping her people, to eventual collision course with the Queens.

SEPARATE journeys in parallel that come together in peril. They meet again strong. Free of the Night Court. Trying to do what is right.

And then, they fight. Because it’s still the easiest language they both speak. But they ALSO still love each other- and isn’t this, after all, so very nearly another life? It’s time, to fight side by side.

But what I think is going to happen is a lot more...painful? They’re going to go to Illyria and Cassian is going to make Nesta train. They’re going to fight and fuck, hurt each other with both those things way before they’re ready for something real. The rebellion might not happen? Nesta’s going to get a Feyre 2.0 fighting course. It’ll empower her...but it’s still not her choice.

She’s then either going to a) go rogue and go after the Queens herself, b) get kidnapped again, or c)Rhysand is going to send her and Cassian after them, banishment matchmaking vol. 2: the assassination assignation, maybe with backseat Azriel, who has also had goddamn enough of everything.

Love is, of course, going to prevail, but really at this point, what I want most (aside from ANSWERS)is just...Nesta’s health? For her to spend time around people who treat her with even the slightest modicum of respect?

And I do have hope! The advertising has emphasized found family specifically. I hope, so badly, that that means Nesta gets her own family. That her journey takes her to a place she chooses.

Cassian needs to heal too- and really, really, decide to live for himself and make his own choices. My greatest hope isn’t just that it’s a sexy love story, but that they end up better, freer, and more appreciated by the end.

19 notes · View notes

ao3gingerswag · 3 years

Note

on the whole idea of the boys when they're older interacting with kids, what if one day a kid comes in with his family who's like rly shy and timid, like not bc of abuse he's just rly shy and with his family who are perhaps quite boisterous and he's not and he gets quite anxious and there's a whole thing where the boys are able to bring him out of his shell ;~; like when he and his family are sitting down for a meal dean comes out with their food and makes him relax bc hes so good with kids. he comes down during the night bc he heard a noise and got scared and cas is down there cleaning up for the night and talks to him about nature to calm him down and the boy is like :)) and then the next morning he's outside and there's other kids who are playing with sam and he's off to the side but sam notices and is able to bring him into the play and he ends up making friends with the other kids, and then by the time the family have to leave the inn he's like smiling and happy and he turns to his parents and is like 'can we come back here soon :D' and it's this rly nice moment, maybe from his perspective so we get to see others reactions to the boys :))

ALSO AS I WAS WRITING THIS I HAD AN EPIPHANY WHAT IF THE BOY IS JACK. DOESN'T NEED TO BE BUT IT WORKS KINDA WELL!!

awwww this is so cute!!! Maybe this could be combined with the prompt about cas helping the family with an autistic child and helping the parents understand their kid better....like maybe the kid is autistic and so he has a hard time talking sometimes and is withdrawn bc of difficulty interacting with others. and dean is so good with kids, even if he can't spot right away that the kid is autistic like cas would be able to, he can tell when he comes out with the food that the kid is in distress. like he's like and here's yours sir :) to the kid (dean is very polite but he is calling the kid sir as a bit of a joke to make the kid smile) and the kid like doesnt look up and the parents are like oh sorry he's just shy. and dean is like oh. hmmm. cause the kid has like his fingers clenched in his tunic. when he comes back out he like crouches next to the kid to make him feel more comfortable and is like hey :) i'm dean :) and the kid doesnt look up or say anything and the parents r like sorry he gets like this idk why. jack look at the nice boy and introduce yourself. (i didnt watch the later seasons but from what i see on tumblr.edu the consensus is that jack is autistic so!) and dean is like no thats ok he doesnt have to look at me/talk to me. and then to jack he's like. u know i have a friend who doesn't always look at people or talk to them and we get along just fine. so i think me and jack are gonna get along great :) and then to jack he's like. you know. my friend and i dont always talk using our voices. sometimes we use our hands! (i guess this is post meeting eileen- i've said this on a different post but once dean cas and sam r introduced to the concept of sign language they adopt it immediately bc cas feels so much more comfortable communicating like that when he's having trouble w/ words) and jack is like ??! so turns towards dean w/o making eye contact, clearly intrigued. and dean is like :) wanna see? :) and jack nods. and dean shows him a few basic signs and jack mimics him. and one of the words is upset. and then once jack learns it, dean signs "you upset?" to him. ;~; and jack nods. and dean is like. wanna tell me what's up? maybe i can help! and then jack does the shy kid thing of indicating with body language that they dont wanna say what's wrong out loud, so dean leans in and jack whispers into his ear "loud." and dean is like oh! i see! we can fix that :) can i tell your parents what you just told me? and jack nods. so dean says to the parents (who r looking on in bemusement) its a bit loud in here for jack. mind if i take him outside for a minute? and the parents are like oh! sweetheart why didnt you tell us? (they arent bad parents they just dont get jack and its the middle ages so its not like there is info out there) and jack shrugs and the parents sort of helplessly shrug at each other, bc jack not verbalizing issues is a common problem for them. and they r like um its ok u dont have to take him outside we will take him. but do u mind bringing our food outside and stuff. like can we eat there. and dean is like of course no problem! and theyre like r u sure? im sorry that u have to go out of ur way for us, im sorry about our son, he can be. kinda fussy sometimes. and dean is like literally dont worry about it!

so then jack's parents take him outside and they all eat on the porch, and dean keeps popping back over to check on them. and jack is clearly much happier and starts to become much more verbal now that he's not overstimulated. still shy and quiet but much more smiley and every time dean brings them something he's very quietly like "thank you."

omg! maybe dean notices that he's not eating his food and so he's like do we want something else? and the parents r like omg no omg im sorry he's just so particular about what he likes omg the food is great jack pls eat ur food dont be rude. and dean is like he's not being rude at all he's a very polite young man :) id be happy to bring something else out. and the parents r like. well. if you're sure...he likes things that r like. boring. like really really boring. like plain porridge with nothing in it and stuff like that. and dean is like mashed potatoes? and the parents r like yes! and jack perks up. and so he brings that out for jack. and he brings it out and the parents r like omg omg thank u SO much for going so out of ur way for our weird kid even tho he still wont look at u at all. they dont say that part they're not assholes to jack, its implied tho and jack kinda curls into himself bc hes embarrassed about causing problems. and dean ofc notices and is like. u know. my friend who talks with his hands can be very particular too. he doesnt like the noise in the dining room either, and he also only likes certain foods. and jack perks up again :)

ahhh he keeps coming out to check on them and he's like hey how u doing? and!! oh no maybe dean also taught him the sign for happy and he signs "happy" at dean ;~:

to be clear- dean doesn't make the connection that jack LIKE like cas, as in he's autistic, at least not yet. like i think he WOULD if he had more time with him, but cas is the only autistic person he's ever met, and he just met jack. dean def just thinks he's very shy, but he's great with kids and can tell right away that jack is upset, and he shows him the signs not cause he realizes that jack is actually non-verbal in that moment but because he really doesnt care if the kid doesn't want to talk to him, he just wants to help. and he shows him the signs and stuff bc he wants the kid to tell him whats wrong, but kids wont tell strangers that if u just ask upfront, you have to gain their trust a little first ;~; and dean understands all of this instinctually bc he's great with kids so he manages to figure out whats wrong and solve the problem even without realizing that jack is autistic. ;~;

the person who figures out that jack is autistic is definitely cas!! jack comes down in the middle of the night maybe not cause he hears a noise, maybe he just cant sleep bc he hates his routine being disrupted and being in a new place ;~; and the sheets feel all wrong and everything smells wrong and everything is different and he hates it ;~; so he comes downstairs maybe be he's crying and he doesnt want to wake his parents up. and cas is downstairs cleaning up still, it's totally quiet tho now so there is no overstimulation. and cas is like oh! a tiny person!! uuhhh.... he def panics a little bc he's not good w people and he's not sure what to do with a random crying child. maybe he briefly considers waking dean up bc dean is good with kids and also maybe he saw dean talking to jack earlier. but then hes like no dean is tired i dont want to bother him ill try to deal with it. and hes like um. hello. um. my name is castiel i am the owner of this inn. um i guess u dont care about that. um. r u ok? and then the kid signs "upset" ;~; and cas is like oh! bc thats their signs! so he signs "what's wrong, why are you upset?" back even tho like it's just their home signs so how would this kid know them. but he signed "upset" so cas responds kinda on instinct. and the kid does not understand anything other than upset bc dean only showed him like 5 signs and he kinda already forgot the other ones. but it doesnt matter! bc those r hand words like dean was talking about and showing him! which must mean this is his friend who doesnt like looking at people or talking!! and jack is verbally like. r u dean's friend who doesnt like looking at people or talking. and cas is like um? yeah i guess? thats me. and jack is like ! i am very particular too! and bc he trusts dean and now by extension cas, and believes dean about cas being "particular" like him, he doesnt feel embarrassed about admitting what's wrong. and he spills his guts hes like everything is WRONG i dont like how anything feels or smells or tastes and everything is different from how it is at home and i HATE it and mom and dad says thats rude but i dont want to be rude but i cant sleep bc everything is all wrong!!! ;~; and he says all this not looking at cas and waving his hands around his head. and cas is like......................................................................oh. hm. i see. this is Me.

so he's just very empathetic and is like im really sorry i totally understand, you're not being rude, i also feel that way whenever we travel and i also am very selective about what i can touch and eat and stuff and am very sensitive to the physical environment. i know i cant fix it all but is there anything i can do to help you feel better? do u want to try some different blankets? and he takes jack to the linen closet and is extremely patient as he brings down each blanket and lets jack touch each one and decide which is the best. and it DOESNT solve everything but just having someone take him seriously and listen to him makes jack feel so much better and hes eventually able to go back to sleep ;~;

in the morning theyre outside, sam who's like 16 or whatever is chasing the kids around playing tickle monster. and jack's parents try to get him to go play with sam and the other kids but he doesnt want to he's too shy and anxious. and cas keeps staring at jack like :( bc he KNOWS but he doesnt know what to do about it. he brings it up with dean and dean is like OH. i see THATS what was going on with him he's like you! and cas is like yeah :( idk what to do about it...

sam sees jack hanging around with his parents on the side and he's like hey! do u want to come play? and jack is like................ and his parents r like sorry hes really shy. and sam is like thats ok! i have an idea, why dont we change the game and we can play hide and seek! (bc that doesnt require jack to jump in to interacting with a big crowd of kids) he's like :) i bet u can hide real well! :) and jack is like! :D and he nods bc hes like whoa i CAN hide really well! and they play hide and ofc sam is the seeker but when he finds the kids he always kinda turns it into man hunt cause he's like ah HA i got u!!! and he chases them around. and eventually he finds jack and hes like mwahahahaha now im gonna EAT you!!! and jack like screeches and giggles and bolts away and sam chases him and the other kids, and basically he like tricks jack into playing the exact same game they were playing before by like easing him into it by not making the start of the game require walking up to a crowd of ppl. but then once they r in the game he's ok just running around with the other kids :)

meanwhile dean and cas watch this and dean is like. do u want to talk to the parents. and cas is like. :/ i dont know how to do that. like how would we even start that conversation. and dean is like. i can help u :) so he does! he's like hey u remember i was talking about my friend to ur son the other day? this is he! u met him when u were checking in! ive noticed that he's like really really similar to ur son and has some of the same issues, and we were wondering if u wanted to talk about how cas deals with some of those things? and basically dean eases them into the conversation and makes it unintimidating for both parties. and cas teaches the parents all about the concept of sign language, and how going non-verbal is more than just being shy, and like they start describing situations in which jack was like Weird theyre like one time he started screaming and crying and rocking in public we didnt know what to do! and cas is like well where were u? what was going on? and like helps them identify the kinds of sensory things that probably trigger jack and stuff. and just like. its a good convo.

omg and cas is literate by this point and maybe the parents r too and hes like. if u ever wanna write to me and ask me about more shit and whatever pls dont hesitate. and then they DO and basically they help this family understand and raise their autistic son and its great!!! :D

anyway this is a VERY long response i definitely just outlined a mini-fic here.

#ao3gingerswag #asks #prompts #ideas #wander home #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this was fun now i have to do hw

6 notes · View notes