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pinknatural · 2 months

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Pick out the biggest, reddest, juiciest strawberries. Wash ‘em real good. Lay them out on a tray covered in parchment paper. Pat them dry, and leave them out. Put some chocolate chips in a bowl, and microwave in 30 second intervals. After the chocolate is good and melted, pick up the strawberries by the stem and dip them in, coating them thoroughly before putting them back on the tray.

Dean’s never made chocolate-covered strawberries before. Never had a reason to. It’s kinda nice, to dedicate all his focus to making sure the chocolate is covering up the berries evenly. To try not to get them to drip.

Since moving into the Bunker, Dean’s found that baking is fun. He likes putting a bunch of stuff together and seeing delicious results. And chocolate-covered strawberries aren’t exactly rocket science, but he knows they’ll taste good and make Sammy happy and that’s all he really wants, right?

Plus, he thinks, gently placing another strawberry back on the parchment paper. He doesn’t think Jack has ever had a chocolate-covered strawberry before, and he can just picture the kid’s excited eyebrows at the taste.

He picks up another strawberry, pinching all the leaves between his fingers so they don’t get chocolatey. He dips it nice and slow into the glass bowl, turning it gently as he brings it out of the chocolate.

“What are you doing?”

Dean yelps, nearly dropping his strawberry.

“Jesus christ, Cas, you snuck up on me!” he says, turning to glare over his shoulder. Cas is standing just behind him, staring curiously. He could’ve been there for two minutes or twenty. Dean didn’t even know he was in the Bunker, let alone the kitchen. “I’m not kidding about that bell, dude.”

“Apologies,” Cas says. He doesn’t sound a bit sorry at all. Dean rolls his eyes and turns back to his strawberry, putting it on the tray next to the other completed ones. Cas moves in closer. “What is the purpose of this exercise?”

“Chocolate-covered strawberries,” Dean says.

“I see that,” Cas says. He sniffs, as if the smell disagrees with him. “But why are you covering the strawberries in the chocolate? Is it for a spell?”

“No, it’s a dessert. Like a candy, I guess,” Dean says. “For Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah, yes,” Cas says. “Unattached drifter Christmas.”

Something in Dean’s heart stabs, at that. He hates that Cas has heard him say that, or heard Sam reference it, or whatever.

“Yeah,” he says, looking away from Cas’ eyes. The strawberries are safer to look at. “I guess.”

Cas’ big hands enter Dean’s field of view, and he plucks up a strawberry. Not one with chocolate on it. A naked one. Despite himself, Dean looks back up at Cas. It’s hard to not look at him. He has a very nice face.

“What does chocolate strawberries have to with the patron saint of bees?”

“Bees?”

“And epilepsy,” Cas says, squinting at the strawberry. “And the mentally ill. And happy marriages.”

“Uh, it’s more about the happy marriages thing,” Dean says. “Valentine’s Day is about love and shit.”

“And strawberries,” Cas says, nodding wisely, as if he understands everything. He sets the strawberry back on the tray. Dean’s not sure if he’s fucking with him or not. Surely after all this time on earth, Cas knows what fucking Valentine’s Day is.

“You give the strawberries to your Valentine,” Dean says. “Or chocolate or whatever. Or those fucking disgusting chalky heart things. But Eileen loves chocolate-covered strawberries and so these are for Sam. To give to her.”

Dean told Sam to make his own chocolate-covered strawberries, but Sam said that either Dean could make them or he would buy some from the store. And Dean does not trust fucking Hy-Vee to have quality chocolate-covered strawberries. He picks up Cas’ naked strawberry--the last one--and dips it into the chocolate.

“That’s very kind of you,” Cas says, watching him. “To help Sam out.”

“Whatever,” Dean mutters, holding the strawberry up so the excess chocolate can drip back into the bowl. “I wanted Jack to try some, too.”

“You say that like it will make me think you less kind,” Cas says. Dean is tempted to throw him out of the kitchen. But goddamnit, he likes Cas and likes when Cas hangs out with him and asks stupid questions about Valentine’s Day. But knows that Saint Valentine is the patron saint of epilepsy, or whatever. Ugh.

Dean never knows when Cas is leaving, anyway, so he’s gotta take all the time he can get. He leaves his strawberries behind and fetches another glass bowl. The white chocolate chips are already out, beside the opened bag of regular chocolate chips.

“I thought you said white chocolate was an abomination,” Cas says, watching Dean pour some into the bowl.

“It is,” Dean says. “But it will look fancier this way, trust me.” He puts the bowl in the microwave, punches in a 3-0-enter then turns around to look at Cas. He’s inspecting the neat line of chocolate-covered strawberries. They’re a little messier than Dean wants, but hell, it’s his very first try.

“I don’t understand why you would put the chocolate on the strawberries,” Cas says. “My understanding is that strawberries are perfectly good on their own.”

“Dude, bacon is perfectly good on its own and we put chocolate on that,” Dean says. He crosses back to the counter and picks up a strawberry by the stem, holds it out to Cas. “Go on, try it.”

He expects Cas to take the strawberry from him--chocolate end first, and then he’ll get chocolate all over his fingers and Dean will die a million deaths watching him lick the chocolate off. Instead, Cas does something a thousand times worse and leans forward, biting into the strawberry without taking it, like Dean’s feeding it to him or some shit.

Dean has a vision of a picnic somewhere, red and white checkered blanket and all. The sky is blue and the grass is soft and Cas’ head is in Dean’s lap and Dean’s feeding him strawberries and kissing him between each one.

But instead Cas just--doesn’t break eye contact. Just stares, as he bites into the strawberry, chews and swallows.

“Good?” Dean says, mouth dry.

Cas closes his eyes, licking his lips. “Mmm, very.” He straightens back up. Even though he licked his lips, he missed a little--has a chocolate mustache. Dean has the insane urge to lick it right off his face.

“Uh, you got some--chocolate,” Dean croaks instead. He mimes with his own thumb. Cas swipes the chocolate and succeeds in smearing it everywhere.

“Did I get it?” he asks, and his wide blue eyes hypnotize Dean into reaching forward and wiping the chocolate off Cas’ face with his own fingers. Then Dean licks the chocolate off his thumb.

Then Dean realizes that the microwave is beeping and the white chocolate’s first 30 seconds have been up for a long time, and he should probably go get that, and he escapes across the kitchen.

“The strawberry molecules and chocolate molecules are very pleasing together,” Cas says. “Do humans put chocolate on other fruits?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, stirring the white chocolate frantically. If he doesn’t look at Cas maybe Cas will think that what just happened was normal, and that Dean isn’t fucking insane. “Uh, apples, bananas, pineapples. I think I saw it on kiwi once. Uh, maybe orange slices.”

“Fascinating,” Cas says. Dean puts the white chocolate back into the microwave. “Yes, I think Jack would like that very much.”

“Good,” Dean says. He goes to the fridge, gets a beer. Opens it on the side of the counter and takes a big swig. The microwave beeps.

It’s all melted. Dean grabs a spoon and goes over to the berries. He is not confident about this part at all, but crazyforcrust.com said to use a spoon. And hopefully he can get, like four or five good-looking ones for Sam, and the rest can be for him to pig out on on the fourteenth alone in his room while he tries not to wonder where Cas is.

He dips the spoon into the white chocolate and covers it, then raises it over a strawberry and zig-zags over it, letting the white chocolate drip and drizzle overtop.

“See?” Dean says to Cas, who he knows is watching. “You can hardly taste the white chocolate this way but it looks good.” Well, it doesn’t look bad. Dean’s sure they’ll look better as he goes.

“I see,” Cas says. He points to the drizzled strawberry. “Are you giving that one to Sam?”

“No,” Dean says. “That one was just a practice one.”

“Good,” Cas says, and he picks up the strawberry by the stem. Dean’s never, ever seen him go for seconds before, but he makes a mental note of it. But then Cas turns the strawberry around, unmistakably offering it to Dean. “You should have one. You made them.”

“But--” Dean starts to say, and then Cas brings it up, so it nearly touches Dean’s lips. He looks at him with the same kind of focus he gives to a hunt, or smiting demons.

“Eat it,” he says, nudging Dean’s lips with the fruit. Dean opens his mouth and bites into it. Maybe Dean would lay his head on Cas’ lap in their picnic, and Cas would feed Dean.

The strawberry is good, probably. Dean’s not really sure what it tastes like. All he can see are Cas’ eyes, boring into his.

Dean swallows.

“You don’t have any chocolate on your face,” Cas says. He sounds disappointed. Dean can’t unpack that.

“That’s ‘cause the chocolate is less melty,” Dean says, mostly on autopilot. He feels a million miles away. “Cause it’s starting to harden.”

“Okay,” Cas says. “Can I help with the drizzle?”

“Oh,” Dean says, shaken out of some kind of trance. “Sure. Get a spoon.”

Cas fetches one. He holds it like an instrument of war. Dean loves him so fucking much.

They drizzle white chocolate over the strawberries. Cas does it so precisely his drizzles look like they came from the store. Dean’s drizzles improve. He makes a couple decent ones. For Jack, he guesses, ‘cause the ones Cas made should probably go to Sam.

“I gave you a strawberry,” Cas says out of nowhere. “And you gave me one. Does that make us Valentines?”

Dean freezes.

A moment later, his heart restarts and he looks at Cas, who is solemnly drizzling. Then he looks innocently up at Dean, and Dean realizes that Cas has absolutely been fucking with him this whole time. Absolutely knows about Valentine’s Day, absolutely ate that strawberry out of Dean’s hand on purpose. Dean narrows his eyes at him. Cas tilts his head.

“You’re a menace,” Dean grumbles.

“That’s not a no,” Cas says.

“You’re right,” Dean says. “I guess it does make us Valentines.” Cas smiles, a tiny, private thing, and then looks back down at his drizzling.

“Good,” he says quietly, and Dean ducks his head, cheeks warm and heart fluttering, and he lifts up his spoon.

It’s kind of cold in Kansas in February, but Dean imagines him and Cas wrapped in blankets, feeding each other chocolate-covered strawberries in front of the TV. This time, he thinks, he’ll actually taste the strawberry. And you know what? Dean’s sure that those strawberry molecules and those chocolate molecules are gonna be fucking fantastic.

Especially if he gets to kiss them off Cas’ lips.

(ao3)

#🍓🍓🍓#destiel #writingtag #supernatural #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #instead of writing about wedding anniversaries have THIS

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raised-u-fr0m-perdition · 3 months

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we could be more | dean winchester

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

PROLOGUE

I was typing quickly on a computer, trying to breathe in and out as calmly as I could. The windows were shut, blinds drawn, door locked and rock salt places around the edges of the room.

“Come on, locate them already.” I muttered as I scanned through piles and piles of CCTV cameras. “Please, please, please-“ The salt blew away, and door and windows started rattling, then violently shaking. I typed faster, then a location popped up on my screen. “Thank goodness.” I wrote it down, but then the doors blew through, and a woman stepped through, red eyes glowing wickedly.

“You’d think that being a witch would make you more adept at protecting yourself from harm.” She smiled maliciously, and I stood up, my own eyes glowing blue as I picked up the piece of paper. “But oh well.”

“Sorry I couldn’t take the full measures when I’ve got the devil on my scent.” I scoffed.

”Cute.” She sniped, then walked forward. “Speaking of the devil, he isn’t too pleased with you and what you’ve been doing. So he sent me to fix you.”

“By taking away my powers?” I breathed, stepping back. My legs were shaking, my head was pounding, ears ringing- it was all too much. But my survival mattered more, if I’m being honest.

“No.” She shrugged, then grabbed my wrist, and I felt a cutting, burning sensation there, along with pain.

Extreme pain.

I let out a cry that felt silent to me as I wrenched my arm out of her hand, and when I looked down, I saw a rune there, glowing red and standing out even against burnt skin.

She chuckled, peering at her handiwork. ”Of course I’m going to take away your powers. Silly girl.” She then disappeared, leaving me to gape in horror at the rune. I picked up my bag and my gun, the ringing still in my ears, wrapped my scarf around me, put on my coat and hurried to my car, getting in and driving off. My arm still stung, and I felt empty, as if a big part of me had been ripped out, which it had been. But I had to leave, and find them.

I pulled up at a …hospital(?)… God knows how many hours later, getting out and asking the receptionist for the right ward and room. I ran up the stairs, counting under my breath until I reached the right door, knocking hurriedly, startling the men inside. One was a man who seemed to be in his early twenties, with shaggy brown hair and dressed in a plaid shirt and green-ish jacket. The other was a much older man who looked like the other’s dad. On the hospital bed was an unconscious man with a very defined jawline and shorter brown hair. He looked damaged, to say the least.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” The guy in his twenties asked, stepping forward.

“I’m looking for Sam or Dean Winchester. Either of them.” I panted, holding onto the doorframe.

“I’m Sam.” Sam told me, looking calmer than I’ll ever be. “Is everything ok? You look spooked.”

I didn’t say anything; I just lifted up my sleeve, showing him the mark. His eyes widened, and so did his dad’s, who also came closer to take a look.

”Sweet Jesus.” The dad breathed.

”That’s a rune.”

#dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #supernatural #supernatural oc #ivonne rainer #azazel #sam winchester #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader

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simpformoonkight · 1 year

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Cat problem

Fandom : supernatural

Characters : sam whinchester x sister!reader, Dean whinchester x sister!reader , castiel x reader (Plotonic), Jack x reader (Plotonic)

Warnings : few swear words, use of the word y/n, just crack and fluff :)

Summary : the the 2 times where you almost got caught and the one time you did

A/n : I know it's been months since I wrote but for some reason i got tired of writing and then school came and my exams started and just on Sunday I finished and I wanted to write something about supernatural. It might be not accurate English is not my first language and this might be rusted because it's been a long time since I watched supernatural so I wrote this based on what I remember

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

You were sitting in your room teaching jack about hunting and how to do research—(or as Dean calles it homework) you were in the middle of explaining on how to spot a wraith and how to kill it when castiel suddenly appeared in your room “Cass?? Hey- what's up?” jack asked him using the new expression you taught him “the roof of the room that's what is up” he answered jack with a slightly furrowed eyebrows, you began to explain “I didn't mean it like that- it's an expression when you—” before you could finish you heard a sound— maybe a meow?? “cas what do you have in your coat???” you asked him “something” he said while hugging the bump in his coat tighter "I was wondering if you would know what dean or Sam would do if they found there was an animal in here??” he asked “dean hates animals because of what they could do to baby and Sam doesn't mind dogs but I don't know about cats tho- cas do you have a cat in there??” you asked interrupting yourself "I may or may have not saved a cat that was in the rain” castiel says looking at his trench coat where the cat is “can i see it?” jack asks while getting up walking towards castiel. He gets the cat out if his coat and showed to him. It is an orange big fluffy cat “it's fur is so soft" jack says while rubbing behind its ears “can we keep it?” jack asks you “if you wanna keep it then don't show it to Dean otherwise he will kick us out and also sam” you say with a shrug trying to resist petting it so you won't get attached— "let's call him garfield! After the cat character from that cartoon” says Jack with an adorable smile “you two are gonna be the death of me one day, I swear” you mumble, sighing.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

First time :

It has been three months and somehow you didn't get caught, so today the boys left you and jack alone. You were sick somehow and they couldn't take you and jack wanted to stay for you and garfield.

You were sitting watching scooby do (as demanded quested by dean) with Jack while you were having soup, garfield was laying in Jack's lap. After a while Sam called, you picked up and put it on speaker “hey Sam!"you and jack said together “hey-how are you two doing? How are you feeling??” he asked “I'm fine and we are watching scooby do, you have dean to blame for that one” you mumbled the last bit under you breath and then coughed “well don't stay up stay up too lo—” *meow*....... "what was—" "OK BYE!” you hung up the phone and then to turn to jack with wide eyes "maybe he won't ask about it later???" jack tried to save the situation "jack.. I love you but if he tells dean we will be dead" you said to in a serious tone.. "Hey, everything alright?” dean asked Sam "yea yea, everything is fine" Sam answered "then why the hell were you staring at your phone for the past 20 minutes???" "no reason i was just thinking about something in the case"

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Second time :

This time it was Dean who almost caught you three. You were out with Sam, so cas and jack were with Dean. Great. The oblivious angel of the lord and their his son who might me just as uuuh- gullible? you were hoping that they won't fuck this over.

"Hey Jack, where the hell is Cas?? I haven't seen him all day" dean asked the boy "I think he is at the store" jack answered absent-minded "really? I didn't see him leave with them" "Oh- well he went to—" jack stopped after he realized what was he about to say "—to buy you pie because y/n called him and said they couldn't find any pies?” jack tried to come up with an excuse "really?" dean said with that famous grin of his "yes!" jack said with a bright smile then—*meowww* "is there a cat in here?? How the hell did it get on here?!" dean said with an angry but surprised voice "its—uhhh- my phone! Yes it's my phone" jack said while jumped in front dean "your phone??" dean asked skeptically "yes! I asked y/n to change the ringtone to cat noises" and luckily enough a you called him and saved him

Later on you asked castiel to buy the pie instead of Sam

————————————

Third and last time :

Sam and Dean had their suspicions about the three of you. Why are you all sneaking around?? Do you all have some sort of inside jokes about them?? And it's weird especially from Cas since he tells Dean almost everything. And now... Cas and jack disappeared into your room. Maybe has disappeared and you and— "what do you think is happening, dean??" Sam said interrupting the dean's train of thought "I don't know man, it's just so weird. Not to mention the way they were acting.” the dean told sam" and the meowing. I think y/n said it was because they—” “wait wait wait- meowing noises??” dean interrupts "yea?— oh oh” "you figured it out?” “Cas like cats, Jack like cats and y/n is neutral about animals which means...” sam says waiting for Dean “they have a cat without us knowing," then dean says with a look that says 'I'm done with everything' "I swear to chuck if they got that hairy monster in my car I will personally murder them" "sure whatever you say let's go" they get up and go to your room and just opened the door "really?" Sam says after seeing Jack and Cas playing a ginger cat and you filming it "I can't believe you three!! You hid this and didn't say anything about it. And YOU!-” he points at you" I EXPECTED BETTER THAN YOU ESPECIALLY AFTER—!” you interrupted Dean "I did not let the cat into your car and if you let us keep him in my room I will buy you pies with MY money and Sam.. His name is Garfield”....... You five are quiet for a few seconds "deal" dean said, Sam looked at him inridiculously and left... "can I play with him?“ “yea.. Sure " Sam came over and Garfield kept rubbing on Sam's hand. I guess cats love big giants

#supernatural #castiel #jack kilne #supernatural dean #supernatural sam #castiel x reader #jack kline x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural castiel #supernatural x reader #dean x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader

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narrynukezankielover · 2 months

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There’s 3 ways to look at the ep The French Mistake. 1. They have mentioned Days Of Our Lives, Gilmore Girls and House Of Wax which means in the Supernatural world the actors Jensen and Jared exist (they may have mentioned other things that they have been in and shows and movies Misha has been in but these are the ones I’m familiar with). So there is the possibility that in their universe there is a show called Supernatural (Sam said not many people watch the show so it could be that they just never heard of the show) based on the books Chuck writes which is why all the details are correct. Which means there is the possibility that the angel (still can’t spell his name right hopefully I’ll learn) put Dean in that Jensens body and Sam into that Jareds body but that would mean a shit load of doppelgängers. In the Supernatural world that wouldn’t be a big shock. 2. They were sent to the actual real world. Again they could have been put into the bodies of the actors if not then where are the real Jensen and Jared? How did they disappear right when Dean and Sam showed up and if they are in their bodies wouldn’t they have their memories? Yet they don’t. Cas didn’t get sent to that world so how is it that Cas is gone off doing whatever yet Misha is there doing the show? Cas was in on the plan so wouldn’t that also mean that Cas knows he is being played by an actor? Plus Dean takes the script out of Mishas hand. Would he think about how it’s not the angels or god telling Chuck what to write it’s done random person writing a script to their lives. 3. They were sent to another universe which is what Misha said in the ep but who knows if it’s the truth. That would explain Misha being an asshole (it was extremely funny) and since our Misha is so sweet that would make sense. Again they could’ve been put into the actors bodies but again they don’t have their memories so if they didn’t get put into their bodies where are the actual actors. This ep was great but it hurt my head to think about this stuff. I probably took a simple fun ep and thought way too much about it. Best part was “the attractive crying guy” even in the show Misha is attractive. At least they know it. He used both his Cas voice and his regular voice in one scene yet Dean or Sam didn’t say anything. I kinda want one of them to ask him what happened to his voice. Sam saying the best part is there’s no angels got a different reaction from Dean.

He looks sad and worried that no angels means no Cas.

“You have me confused with the other angel. The one in the dirty trench coat that is in love with you.” Definitely one of my favourite lines so far. When he called Cas Sams boyfriend he didn’t react just said “Cas can’t help me.” That’s someone who isn’t hiding anything and just didn’t feel the need to correct him yet with Dean he got an eye roll.

That’s a “ya right an angel is in love with me.” After Cas being a fallen angel for Dean, helping to stop the apocalypse, dropping everything in heaven to come help Dean when he prays to him and telling him at least twice that he’s done all this stuff for Dean Dean still either doesn’t realize Cas feelings or because he is still denying his own feelings he chooses to not believe Cas loves him.

There’s a little moment in Frontierland where Rachel tells Dean how he needs to know his place and that basically Deans problems mean nothing compared to what is going on in heaven.

She says she’s Cas friend and you can see when Dean smiles in Deans head he’s thinking I’m more then a friend to Cas. It’s like he knows it but won’t say it. Then Cas appears to defend Dean.

I’m sorry but I don’t remember the name of this ep but I have found my absolute favourite line in the show “Cas get outta my ass.” The fact that it’s not even a sexual scene makes it great but Bobby and Sam obviously know how close Cas and Dean are and probably have figured out that they have feelings for each other since they both know that Cas is more willing to come if Dean prays to him then if either of them do it. Dean saying why does it have to be him and that Cas is busy and don’t live in his ass kinda proves that Dean isn’t admitting stuff to himself. They spend the entire ep bickering like a couple. It was adorable. Then later in the ep when they find out Cas might’ve lied to them about killing Crowley Bobby and Sam seem a bit pissed and confused.

Dean looks worried. It’s like he knows now that Cas is dealing with a lot in heaven and on earth and Dean seems to be worried about how it’s affecting Cas.

#castiel #dean winchester #dean x castiel #cockles

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jumblejen · 1 year

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We Were Always Going to End Up Together - Ch 20

Suptober 22, Day 20: Spa Day

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/114094975

(Or read from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/106051008)

“Dude, this was such a good idea!” squealed Charlie as they waited outside by Baby. Eileen was supposed to meet them any minute now.

“It was, wasn’t it? Gotta say, did not see a spa day from Eileen coming as a holiday gift.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t weird about it.”

“What? I mean, sure, it’s a little strange that it’s me and you and Eileen, but everything she put in that package thingy sounded nice.”

“Even the mud masks?”

“I heard they are soothing and make your skin look ten years younger,” Dean said primly. “What’s to be weird about?”

Eileen walked up to them, smiling broadly. Dean gave Eileen a big hug, resisting the urge to pick her up while he did it. She was small enough that he’s always had to fight the impulse. She’d probably kick his ass if he tried to though.

Charlie and Eileen also hugged, but it was a little more restrained. They’d been gradually getting closer in the last few months, but were nowhere near as comfortable with each other as Dean was with each of them. He hoped today would help change that. He loved when his favorite people all got along. At the very least, a spa day sounded like a welcome change to the cold monotony of mid-January.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to be out of their regular clothes and into plush robes, their faces coated with the promised mud, feet soaking in bubbling footbaths. They’d all declined coverings for their eyes so that they could still talk with Eileen.

“I could get used to this,” sighed Dean as a staff member handed him a mug of steaming honey-lemon water.

“Me too,” agreed Charlie. “Thanks for inviting me along,” she said to Eileen.

“I thought it would be good to get together just us.”

“Mmmm,” said Dean. “Not complaining about that.”

They sat in silence enjoying their pampering for a few minutes.

“How’s work going Dean?” asked Charlie. “Adler still your favoritest boss ever?”

“Ha ha. He’s being his usual Adler self. I swear he would have withheld my bonus if he could’ve come up with a way to wiggle out of the contract.”

“Are you still enjoying the work?” asked Eileen.

Dean sighed. “Not as much as I used to. Used to be I got a lot more variation in what I had to do. More challenging projects type stuff instead of just data entry. Last few months has been pretty boring. And Adler seems to think he can make whatever ridiculous demands on me and I won’t do anything about it.”

“Are you thinking about doing something about it?” Charlie was much more serious asking that question.

Dean hesitated. He wouldn’t have said anything if Sam were here, but Eileen’s always been more on his side. Hasn’t she? He decided to chance being totally honest. “I’m not sure. I don’t like how much he’s trying to nickel and dime everyone. And there’s been rumbling about upping the amount of monitoring we’re all going to have.

“That sounds less than ideal,” added Charlie dryly.

“Yeah there’s that. And Adler keeps talking about big things for me and how if I just put in extra hours I’ll see all sorts of benefits.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Only if he isn’t just blowing smoke. Say I work a ton of extra hours, that I don’t get paid extra for, by the way. What’s to say he actually comes through with these benefits?“

“What type of benefits is he talking about?” asked Eileen.

Dean barked a laugh. “Oh he hasn’t said a damn thing about any specifics. No numbers. No quantifying what kind of extra hours he has in mind. Just vague comments about being a team player.”

Eileen and Charlie both wore identical skeptical looks. Eileen looked at Dean. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”

“I know,” said Dean. “And maybe six months ago I might’ve been interested in more hours just to see what came out of it, but I don’t see an upside right now. Especially now that I have Cas. More work for the same money, plus I can’t see my boyfriend as often? Sounds like a sucker’s bet.”

“Are you going to look for something else?” asked Eileen.

“I dunno. Getting Adler out of my life sounds like a great idea. But doing this, just somewhere else? Not sure it matters. The work will still be the same.”

“You don’t know that…” started Charlie when Eileen interrupted.

“What about the garage?”

“What?” asked Dean in surprise.

“I heard Bobby talking at Christmas. He was talking about you towing that woman’s car at Thanksgiving.”

Dean blushed a little. “Not sure why everyone thinks that story is all that interesting.”

“Bobby was more complaining about how he wished you’d come back and work for him full time again. Might be a good change for you.”

“Yeah, he said something about that at the time.” Dean paused for a second, before deciding to ask what he really wanted to know. “Did uh, Sam hear him say that?”

“He was in the other room.”

Charlie looked between Eileen and Dean. “What does Sam have to do with it?”

“You know how he is,” said Dean.

“I know he gets a little weird about your job.”

“Not just weird,” cut in Dean. “He wanted me to make something of my life, and I got that degree and everything. And I did it, and it’s been going pretty well. He wouldn’t want me to throw all that away.”

“How is working for Bobby throwing anything away?” asked Charlie incredulously.

“Sam can be a little…rigid in how he sees the world,” said Eileen.

Dean snorted. That was an understatement.

“But you shouldn’t care what he thinks so much,” she added firmly.

“He’s my brother.”

“He’s not always right.” Eileen smiled at Dean a little sadly.

Dean was no longer as relaxed as he had been before the topic of his employment had come up. Wouldn’t it be a waste for him to trade in his white collar for a blue one? Sure, he’d worked for Bobby for quite a few years part time, on top of school and other jobs to help make ends meet. And then to help pay off school for him and Sam, and his dad’s bullshit. He’d spent all that time and money getting his life banged into shape. But…the idea was tantalizing.

Thankfully the topic was dropped as Eileen and Charlie began discussing what color they wanted to have their toes painted. Dean was happy to chime in on that, saying that he wanted something dark red, almost black. They both tried to argue Dean into a lighter color, but he’d been mesmerized by the idea, and was sticking to it. The women were both leaning towards sunnier colors to combat the wintry weather. Then the conversation moved onto other topics, such as the new movies they were excited to see in the coming year and Charlie trying to convince Dean that he should have an epic birthday party at the Roadhouse.

While Dean was fully enjoying the pampering and the talking, the idea of quitting his job to go work for Bobby full time never really left him, though every time he tried to imagine what that would be like he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Adler wasn’t so bad, and Dean was pretty good at what he did. The job paid well enough too. Maybe he should just focus on being grateful that his life had ended up in such a comfortable place.

#destiel #suptober22 #fanfic #spa day #charlie & eileen & dean #hanging out at a spa

0 notes

whelvenwings · 3 years

Photo

who will fall beside you, if you fall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read the whole thing below the cut!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

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

–––––

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

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

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

“Dean?”

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

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

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

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

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

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

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

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

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

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

“Know what?”

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

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

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine… ugh.”

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

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

They walked on in silence.

––––-

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

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

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

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

––––-

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

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

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

“You’re cute, you know that?”

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

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

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

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

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

Dean smiled.

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

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

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

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

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

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

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

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

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

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

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

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

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

He walked quietly for some time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed.

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

He kept walking.

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

He breathed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His feet carried him onward.

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

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

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

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

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

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

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

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

“Yes.”

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

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

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

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

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

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

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

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

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

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

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

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

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

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

“Yes, Dean.”

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

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

Dean tightened his grip.

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

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

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

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

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

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

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

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

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

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

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

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

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

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

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

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

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

328 notes · View notes

lengthofropes · 3 years

Photo

POVs series

Part 4: Dean

words: 2,2k; rating: teen and up

summary:

Dean’s POV, since Cas is gone, then got back from the Empty.

Intentionally written as scattered thoughts.

Slowly, from grief, to the ending that they both deserve.

————————————-

1. What shapes me? Lines of my bones, enveloped within my skin, so tensed and fragile. The tremble of my hands in the morning, as I try but can’t find you next to me. My old clothes, my new clothes. Corners of my house. My car’s seat upholstery. Soft recoil of my revolver. Food on my plate. Blood in my arteries. My “yes”s and my “no”s and cracks in my voice, as I say so. - I’d drive. - Far away. From here, but where to? I’d watch the sun goes up and down, up and down, throwing it’s rays into side mirror. Lightening the road or leaving it in darkness, disturbed only by the headlights. I’d listen to the sound that air makes, sliced in half by the windshield. I’d listen to the purring of the engine under the hood, gratefully fed with gasoline. Too bad, it’s not clamorous enough. I’d pay dearly. With money, with time, that’s left. With anything. For something so loud, that could muffle my inaudible screams into nowhere. - I’d drive. But where to? - I don’t know where to. -

keep reading under the cut - or - read on AO3

2. I can’t drive alone. I keep seeing your gaze on my right. I see it, when I look into the rear view mirror too. Like you’re still here, around, waiting to say something. Or just sitting silently, pervading the air with the appeasement of your presence. Looking at me. How long will it take me to forget how your eyes looked like? How long will it take me to forget what you saw in me? How can I? Now, that I believe in everything you’ve said. - How warm your touch was. - How good does it feel to be “finally free”, remind me? I don’t like the price. -

3. I’d like some certainty, you know? To come to terms. But I keep thinking “If only..” I keep asking “What if..?” So many of those. Like there are other paths, and it all could’ve work out differently. They throw me back days ago, then months ago, then years. All my life, since the day I’ve met you. I keep searching for the answer, for the exact point, the moment, when I could’ve say something, do something. And you’d still be here.

“If”s are draining me. They are the lump in my throat, big and barbed. Sometimes it grows so big, it blocks the air from getting into my lungs. And in times like these I wonder, maybe I should just stop breathing at all? Still easier, than to accept your absence. - What if. What if. What if. - And you’d still be here. Here. -

4. Prayers never got me any good. Except of those, that were for you. But you can’t hear me now. You can’t hear at all. I know, it’s no use, I know it’s not possible, I know… I know. But I keep doing this, I keep begging. Not for a solace, not because of compassion. For fairness. Because. You took yourself away from me. It’s not fair, it’s so not fair. How could you do this to me? It’s not fair, can you hear me? It’s not fair! It’s not… - Come back to me. - Bring him back to me. - I don’t know if it is a prayer, I just repeat it over and over. Maybe I’m hoping these words will lose their meaning, if I’ll bounce them against every wall? Every wall of every empty room. I wander around them at night. You stood here, you smiled there, we had an argument, sitting in these chairs. And here, here you touched my shoulder. - Come back to me. Please, come back to me. -

5. How come, it’s been months already? I counted the seconds; they aimlessly wandered around, and then, having nothing else to do, gathered into minutes. It took more courage for minutes to gather in hours, but they did anyway. Hours slowly built up the days, and every seven days made it into a week. - I know, how time works. I’m just not sure, it works for me. - It’s not a straight line, I think. It’s more like a quagmire, and I’m drowning. I looked at myself in the mirror again this morning, as I do every day. I look closely, I check, I perceive. Hey, you’d be proud of me, you know? Little by little, I merge my usual “I” with your vision of me. Because this is the best way to remember you - to live by your last words. - I’d like to tell you, how YOU changed me. [ X ] -

6. Light is blinding me. Heart grew so big, it filled all of my chest, not sure, if there’s a place left to breathe in. Please, let it be real. Please. Please… Not another happy dream, that turns into nightmare, when I’m waking up. Please. - I see you. - Same room, same spot. You. Alive. Your hands are cold. You’re so weak, you can’t stand by yourself, you can’t even speak. But before you passed out, you looked at me. You looked at me, and I saw my own eyes reflect in yours. And that was enough to believe this is real. - I don’t remember… I… - Someone’s shaking my shoulder and saying my name over and over again. I’m sitting on the floor, holding you in my arms. My fingers hurt. I must’ve clutched them into your trench coat too tight. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting like this. But yes… yes… Sam’s hand is on my shoulder and he’s right, his voice is very quiet, but he’s right. We should get you out of here. We should put you in bed. - I nod. I’m not sure I can speak. -

7. It’s so quiet. - You lay. You rest. You sleep. I’ll watch over you. It’s my turn now. The room is still. Only movement is your chest’s slow ups and downs, as you breathe. It’s just air, nothing more, right? How can the sound of air, filling the lungs, be the most soothing sound in the world? But it is. - It’s our air. We share it. - And I’m crying. I’m crying and I’m crying and I can’t stop. -

8. Sam came back from the store, I stand in the kitchen, taking out groceries and stuff out of the shopping bags. Among everything, I see he bought a super glue, I have no idea, what he needs this for. This is so stupid, this is so fucking stupid, it’s pathetic… but I can’t keep my eyes of it. “Use super glue to strongly bind 2 surfaces together”. I want to come into your room, I want to sit beside you, while you’re still sleeping. I want to smear that goddamn glue all over you, from head to toe, and put myself on top of you, as like I’m the other surface. “Assemble parts and hold together with pressure for 15 seconds or until set”, the directions say. Or, there’s gotta be sewing kit here somewhere? I want to thread a needle and sew you to me. With such large and strong stitches, I darned Sam’s pants like that when I was a kid, I know these stitches are reliable, believe me. Or use a duck tape. Or shove us both into the bottle and threw it away into the ocean. - It’s been two days and nine hours, since you’re back. Someday, I’ll be able to leave your room, leave you out of my sight, and don’t feel growing panic in my chest. - Someday, I’ll believe you’re back for good. For good. For ever. Not today. -

9. Your bare legs are sticking out of your robe. You are strong enough to walk around the bunker, and, of course, the first thing you did is get to the kitchen. Oh, you woke up hungry and just wanted to make yourself a sandwich, I see… You are not cold, but you are sitting on a chair, constantly adjusting this stupid robe, wrapping yourself in it tighter. You weirdo. You know who you remind me of? A cold little sparrow on a twig, who keeps on ruffling the feathers to keep warm. Those legs are sticking out… - I place a huge bowl of hot chicken soup in front of you. “Eat!” I say. “Or I’m gonna start feeding you with a spoon, I swear!” You mutter something dissatisfied about peanut butter and jelly under your nose, but I won’t even listen. "Eat!” I say. Seriously, you didn’t want to wake me up?? So nice of you! Next time consider my near heart attack, maybe? You look sorry and giving me those puppy eyes, and I swear I want to smile so bad. Not just smile, really. To laugh with my full chest, easy and warm. - You breathe. You sleep. Now you eat. Should I ask questions? You’re here. You’re okay. You’re getting better. - You’re getting better. -

10. Your hair smell of my shampoo. Your hair. Smell of my shampoo. Your clothes are my old ones, but they fit you so good. Soon, when you’re well enough, we’re gonna drive some place nice and buy you your own. It’s selfish, probably, but I want it to happen as late, as possible; not your recovery, of course, your new clothes, I mean. - You look mine in my clothes. - Your hair smell of my shampoo. I’ve realised it just now, when you fell asleep on my shoulder. I forgive you, we’ve seen this movie two times already, it’s okay. And I can pretend I’m still watching it, while shamelessly wander my eyes over you, curled in a ball, covered with soft plaid. - I dare to kiss the top of your head, I dare to cover your knuckles with my palm, carefully, not to wake you up. - You are so warm. -

11. Do I deserve you? - Do I? Your presence in my life. You. All of you. So pure, so perfect. So selfless. I’d say you are full of light, but it’s not quite so. Because you are the light. God, I’m so scared. It starts in my fingertips, they ache, like being pinned with needles. Needles get into my blood flow and make my whole body shiver. - It took me way too long to understand, but I see now… it’s not about you, it’s about me. I know, I know! I remember everything you’ve said. I remember how I tried to believe it, to understand, to accept, to let it all inside me and keep it there. Your simple truth, that I actually mean something. Mean so much. To you. Fucking everyday morning exercises. Look and repeat, look and repeat to self all over again, “you are loved, you are loved, you are loved…” until not scared of the meaning. But… is this enough? What you feel about me? What I feel about you? To deserve you? Do I deserve you, do I? Do I? I… - But you’re kissing me back. - And you shiver too. Are those my needles got into your veins or are those yours? Jesus, do you have the same idiotic thoughts in your head?? God, we are both so clumsy, so stupid, so fucking stupid! We were so dumb, we are both so dumb! We are… We… - WE. - And I’m kissing you. I’m kissing you. I deserve it. I deserve you. I do. -

12. To feel the pulse on your neck with my lips. To smile, when your stubble tickles my ribs. To hear your shuddered inhales right next to my temple. To hold you, closer than ever, and not be afraid to. - It’s something about the heat of your skin, that makes me feel belonged. Safe. -

13. - You told me, you want to grow old with me. -

14. It’s quite hot, but windy today. You rolled the window down, and fresh air immediately filled up the car. We’re driving back home from the grocery store. You’re texting to someone and smiling. Tell them “Hi” from me. We’re listening to the new mixtape you’ve made. It’s awful, by the way. 90’s? Seriously?? Oh, don’t hurt yourself rolling your eyes back. Ok…Okay! I’m shutting up! You’re taking two milkshakes out of the bag, one for you, one for me. We argue on who’s gonna cook today. We drive past the small tidy houses with green yards and gardens, talking over each one of those. Someday, soon, yeah, most likely. That one with blue shutters? Yeah, I like it too. - In between of shifting the gears, I hold your hand. I love you. - Days are like this. -

15. Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. White male, early forties’. I don’t try to recognize myself in a mirror anymore. I don’t ask questions. - I’m just here. - Yeah, there’s grey in my hair, quite a bit, but still. These are my arms, my shoulders, hands. I used to know my hands as lethal, strong and fast, and I’ve always thought, that’s enough for male hands. I mean… they are, yes. But now I’d add, they are full of care, also. Even gentle. They are good for so many things, I didn’t even realize they are so good. [ X ] - This is my face. Here are my freckles and there are my wrinkles. - This is my skin; I live in it.

- It finally fits me. -

__________________________________

tag list:

@alivedean @achillestiel @acklesology @agentcastiels @burnhamandtilly @bluefirecas @bebecas @becauseofthebowties @ben-edlund @bestiarum @bipridedean @brokenyouth @casthyelle @captain-flint @celestialdean @celestialcastiel @chaoticdean @castheology @cosmiccas @deanwinchesteradjacent @donestiel @debriefingspn @dstiel @evermorecastiel @emptymeg @endverse @fromperdition @forthiswholeworld @galaxycastiel @heartattackles @honeystiel @highvoltagejackles @inacatastrophicmind @itsinjustbeing @icegifs @iheartcas @itsinjustbeing @joharvele @jacobglaser @jackthomson90-blog @lucymorans @mad-as-a-box-of-frogs @magnoliadean @maxguevra @misha-collins @mckkachins @marvells @mochadean @nesnej @nuntox @presidentbidean @rocksaltseraph @sarahblakes @starlightcastiel @starrynightdeancas @sobsicles @shelikestv @sinnabonka @sourpatchdean @spnsmile @smiledean @seraphcastiel @soleeryx @subbydean @tearsofgrace @teamfoundfamily @theedorksinlove @thatisahotsoup @ultravioletcas @valleydean @waywardism @winchester-reload @winchestergifs @xofemeraldstars @yelenasbelovaas @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @saltyghostsworld @plantdadcas @sammy-501 @dtadeancas @subtledean @kaz2y5baby @angelic-bee-enthusiast @gardenforcas @bimiserables @gabrielle-main @highkey-dysphoric @lila-tom @teddybluesclues

#sorry guys! original post got messed with the links and I can't fix them....so just decided to make another oner of archive purposes((#don't mind me))#destiel fanfic #spncreatorsdaily #destiel fanfiction #destiel fix it #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #destiel poetry #anz writes stuff and things #fic tag

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Text

4:01 PM

Dean sips his whiskey and glowers across the bar at his own reflection. His wrist is burning like a brand, but it’s probably all in his head. The stupid timers don’t cause physical pain when they reach T-minus zero, Houston we have a problem. The numbers freeze, and that’s that.

Dean’s had counted down to nothing at exactly 4:01 PM, fifteen minutes ago. Fifteen minutes of running into his soulmate, getting his number, continuing on his way to this bar, and telling the bartender to keep ‘em coming.

He refuses to look at the far corner of the room, the booth he had reserved like an idiot. Four PM, party of two, under the name Winchester.

On the bar by his glass, his phone is still lit up with Cas’s texts from the past hour.

Cas 3:11 I’m so sorry I have to move our appointment. My client just unexpectedly switched our time to 4pm.

Cas 3:21 I think I’ll be able to escape by 4:30. Can I meet you then?

Dean had responded with a thumbs-up emoji. He didn’t have it in him to say any more.

Cas 3:50 This city is impossible to navigate. How does anyone live here?

Cas 3:58 You were right, I should have rented a car.

Three minutes after Cas’s last text, Dean ran into his soulmate. Right on schedule.

As far as first meetings go, it hadn’t been as much of a shitshow as Dean had expected.

The dude was attractive, at least, and the first thing he did after bumping into Dean was apologize. But he was wearing a tailored suit and glued to his phone, so it definitely could have been better.

His soulmate would’ve run off none the wiser, except Dean had to blurt, “Wait!” because, despite his disappointment, Dean couldn’t let his soulmate disappear into the throngs of Michigan Avenue. Dean wasn't about to fall to one knee, but he also couldn't let his best shot just go.

The man stopped, irritated. His gaze refused to linger on Dean, instead fixating on a building at the end of the block.

Head swimming with too many thoughts to name, Dean couldn’t get the right words out. He gestured mutely to his wrist, pulling up the flannel to show him.

Eyes widening with understanding, his soulmate quickly tugged up the cuff of his sleeve, only sparing a second to verify his own timer stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice.” he said, distracted. “My name is James. Here,” he fished out a pen and something to write on from various pockets of his trench coat, “my number. We… should talk. Later.” He scowled, raising his other wrist to check at his watch. “I need to go.”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, mostly grateful he didn’t have to stick around and have some heart-to-heart with a stranger that was apparently meant for him. Whatever the fuck that actually meant.

“Thank you,” James said swiftly. Without another word, he took off back down the street.

Dean didn’t bother to watch him go. He had a barstool waiting with his name on it.

Sam will laugh himself silly once Dean tells him his perfect match wound up being some corporate suit. Dean once told him he’d rather microwave his own head than set foot in an office cubicle.

Sammy was the big soulmate skeptic in the family. He found his non-timer approved other half while he was protesting an illegal dismissal of a disabled employee. Three years later, when Sam bumped into Gabriel Crawford in a strip club at midnight on Dean’s birthday, he discovered Gabe was perfectly happy to let Sam live his apple pie life while Gabe continued to party like it was 1999.

Gabe made Sam promise to look him up if Eileen was ever down for a threesome.

Turned out, Eileen was.

Sam most certainly was not.

He still sends Gabe a card for the holidays, and usually Gabe sends him back candy samples from wherever he’s vacationing for the winter.

But everyone else Dean knew bought into the soulmates game, hook, line, and sinker. His parents were soulmates. Benny and Garth both settled down with theirs. Charlie and Aaron were holding out for theirs. Hell, even Jo had her weird thing with Bela Talbot.

Dean would’ve counted himself among their number - until he met Cas.

Well, until Cas messaged him on Bobby’s new ask-a-mechanic feature on the garage’s website. Cas had inherited a banged up 1967 Mustang and had no idea where to start with restoration. Apparently Gabe of all people was staying with Cas at his place in southern California, and he recommended Dean.

Why Cas couldn’t just look up a local place still baffles Dean to this day, but he has never been more grateful for Cas’s weird-ass logic.

Their relationship had stayed strictly professional until Cas’s actual car broke down on some random highway in California. Dean had tried to talk Cas through the repair himself, but it was no use. Cas either didn’t have the equipment for the fix, or Dean didn’t diagnose the right problem. Dean was about to hang up, when Cas had asked, clearly embarrassed, “Would you please stay on the line? I have this irrational fear of being murdered in the middle of nowhere where nobody can find my body for proper rites.”

Dean, almost surprising himself, didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Sure thing. Wanna put me on hold while you get in touch with Triple A?”

He spent an hour and a half on the phone with Cas, telling him stupid stories about the worst things people have done with their cars.

In return, Cas told him all about the stars that were just coming out in the darkening desert sky.

The week after, Bobby’s garage received a gift certificate in the mail. It was for a weeklong stay at the Chicago location of the five-star hotel chain Cas works for, in Dean’s name.

Those little chocolates on the pillows ruined Dean for motels everywhere.

At the bar, Dean signals the bartender for a refill. He glares down at his phone. The little rectangle contains his entire history with Cas, call logs, text receipts, everything.

He can’t look at it any longer. He shoves it in his pocket, and the receipt with his soulmate’s phone number crinkles in protest. With a sigh, Dean takes out the flimsy piece of paper.

James’s handwriting is neat, so Dean doesn’t even have the excuse of not being able to read a digit or two.

Maybe Dean will give him a call after his drink with Cas. Hopefully, once James finds out that Dean’s just a mechanic, lives in a shoebox apartment in Bucktown, and has never been to Aspen or the Alps, he’ll tell Dean to take a hike.

Dean flips the receipt over, and his stomach gives a sickening lurch. In pretentious curlicue lettering, the first words Dean reads are, The Nine Spheres.

James is staying at Cas’s hotel.

Fucking great. Dean crumples the receipt and shoves it back in his pocket. With his luck, James will probably want to meet in the restaurant on the first floor, the fancy-ass place with the steakhouse burger and truffle fries Dean would actually sell his soul for.

Dean actually dreamed about that burger, a few months after his Cas-sponsored stay. When he told Cas about it, Cas let out a bark of laughter.

In the next breath, though, he told Dean he does the same when he’s scoping out a new location and can’t stay at a nearby Nine Spheres.

Dean tips back his glass of whiskey. It’s stopped burning on the way down his throat, a good sign.

He was so stupid, thinking he could fuck with destiny, fate, or whatever shitty power up there decides soulmates.

Once Cas told him about his business trip to his neck of the woods, Dean had taken one look at the numbers on his arm counting down and did the math. He would meet his soulmate smack dab in the middle of Cas’s window in Chicago.

He could make Cas be his soulmate. Cas never brought up his timer, if it was still ticking, if he’d already met his other half. And Dean, coward that he was, never asked. If he didn’t know for sure, then there was that slim, slim chance that theirs matched up after all.

But no, Cas had to go and switch up their meeting time at the last second, and Dean had run into James instead.

His pocket buzzes with a new text. Mood lower than Cas’s voice register, Dean slides his phone out.

Cas 4:38 My meeting is over. Should I still meet you at the same place?

Dean 4:39 Yeah Hope its okay I got started without you

Cas 4:40 More than okay, considering my scheduling difficulties.

Dean 4:40 See you soon

Dean sighs and drains his glass.

Foot jiggling on the barstool and eyes trained on his hands clasped in front of him, Dean deliberately does not look around as the door opens.

And opens again.

And again.

Confused and irritated, Dean takes another look around. Above the bar, a chalkboard clearly proclaims Happy Hour from 4:30-6:30 PM. Dean ducks his head, scowling into the remains of his drink. He probably overlooked the sign before because of his single-minded quest to get shitfaced like a freshly-dumped senior at prom stuck next to the spiked punch bowl.

His phone obnoxiously tells him it’s 4:43.

That’s just great. Dean hops off the stool, meaning to ask the hostess if anyone’s asked for Winchester, when James pushes open the door.

Dean stops dead in his tracks.

James freezes, his eyes going wide. His trench coat swishes ominously to a stop.

Should Dean turn around? Pretend he didn’t see? Cas is going to be here any second.

Before he can make up his mind, James is walking towards him. “Hello,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here.”

Dean swallows. “Me neither,” he says honestly.

James scans the small crowd now gathered around the bar, brow furrowing in concentration. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

Dean lets out a silent exhale of relief. He musters up a weak smile. “No problem, man. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turns back around, James steps up to the hostess stand.

James says, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the din, “I’m a bit late, but is there a reservation for Winchester? For 4:30?”

Dean could not possibly have heard what he thinks he did. But the timing is right - for once. He spins around, practically losing his balance thanks to the booze he already drank.

The hostess scans her sheet of names, shaking her head. “There was a reservation for Winchester at four PM, but that’s it.”

James’s face falls. Shoulders slumping, he pulls out his phone, squinting as the screen lights up. “He said he was here,” he mutters.

He can’t be Cas. That would be crazy - like, dingo ate my baby, crazy.

“Could be at the bar,” the hostess says flippantly, tilting her head to the crowded area. “Most of ‘em don’t check in.”

James’s lips press together. “Thank you,” he says to the hostess, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait there.”

Dean steps in front of him before James can get lost in the throng of people. “I heard you’re lookin’ for me,” he says with a confidence that’s only 99% bullshit.

James blinks. “You?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“Dean,” he echoes, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s body, drinking him in with his new eyes.

“Gotta say,” Dean drawls as his heart pounds with nerves. Doubt niggles at the back of his mind like an itch he can’t scratch, but he’s already made his memory foam bed. Might as well lie in it. “Cas is the weirdest nickname for James that I’ve ever heard.”

“My full name is James Castiel Novak,” Cas says, flushing. “James - that’s what I go by professionally. My family calls me Castiel.”

Dean can’t hold back his broad grin. “Family, eh?”

Cas’s expression takes a swift dive from embarrassed to mortified. “And friends,” he tacks on. He takes a step closer, staring at Dean’s face in wonder. “But you’re also my soulmate.”

Dean laughs giddily. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t beat around the bush. Not your style.” He jerks his head towards the bar. “I think I see an open seat. You wanna have that talk now?”

Cas hesitates. “Would you like to go to Nine Spheres instead? I’ve had business dinners every evening I’ve been in Chicago so far, and, while the food has been good-”

“It’s not the steakhouse burger?” Dean finishes for him.

The corners of Cas’s mouth turn down into a slight grimace. “Last night, a client treated us to tapas. I woke up starving.”

Dean smiles. “You know I’m always down for that burger.”

“Excellent,” Cas says with relish as he pushes open the door.

They walk onto the street, and it’s almost offensively quiet after the noise of the bar. It’s a balmy Spring evening, the sun still relatively high in the sky.

“You don’t seem disappointed anymore,” Cas says out of nowhere as they reach the end of the block.

So Cas caught on to that, back when they first ran into each other. Dean shrugs. “I just got stood up by the guy I’d specially set up to meet me at 4:01. Wouldn’t you be?”

Cas clears his throat, asking hoarsely, “You wanted it to be me?”

Dean throws him a look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Cas just shrugs. The light changes, and they step off the curb.

“Were you… disappointed?” Dean asks hesitantly.

Cas lets out a surprised laugh. “Of course not. I didn’t even think - well,” he falters, casting a sidelong look at Dean, “I’m not disappointed. Believe me.”

The automatic doors to Nine Spheres open, hitting them with a burst of perfectly conditioned air. Dean hasn’t stepped foot in the hotel since Cas paid for his stay, but it hasn’t changed one bit. The same tiered giant chandelier glitters overhead. Giant pillars bracket the concierge desk to the left and the enormous staircase to the right that leads up to the second floor rooms. The tiled floor, so polished Dean can practically see his reflection, stretches the length of the lobby.

Dean sticks out like a flannel-wearing sore thumb. “Cas,” he hisses, “hold on. I don’t think I’m dressed right for this place.”

Cas sucks in a breath. “No,” he says as Dean’s heart sinks, “I suppose not.” He jerks his head towards the elevator bay. “Room service?”

Dean blinks.

“I’ve called for the burgers on several occasions at other locations,” Cas assures him. “It tastes as good.”

Was Cas actually trying to convince him to go up to his room? What a dumbass. Dean laughs.

Cas colors, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Forget it,” he mutters. “We don’t-”

“You know, if you invite me up to your room,” Dean cuts him off, “you’re going to have a bitch of a time getting me to leave, right?”

Cas stares at him.

“Dude,” Dean says, “I’ve never stayed anywhere this nice in my life. Between the food, the water pressure, and the robe that felt like I was fucking a cloud, I had enough of a hard time leaving last time.”

“I’m glad,” Cas says stiltedly. “We strive to provide the optimal experience to all our guests.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “’M saying, add you to the mix, and they’re gonna have to drag me out of here, kicking and screaming.”

“And if I don’t want you to leave?” Cas asks in an undertone as he pushes the up button for the elevator.

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem,” Dean says, winking.

Cas’s responding grin falls as the doors close behind them and the elevator starts moving. He shakes his head. “It’s a shame there are cameras in here.”

Dean leans in closer, whispering in his ear, “Doesn’t bother me much. Whaddya say to giving the peeping toms a show, then?”

Cas bites his lip, and this close, Dean can see how his eyes have blown black with want. “I - I can’t.”

It’s like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. Dean steps back, shame filling him. That’s fine. He can regroup. Hopefully Cas will be more receptive behind closed doors. It’s not the first time this has happened, anyway.

“Dean, I have to work with these people every day,” Cas hisses, wringing his hands. “The last time an executive got… busy with a coworker in the pool, the mocking didn’t end for weeks. Not to mention her rebuke from upper management.” He throws Dean a desperate look. “I would like for you to be fully clothed by the time you meet my coworkers for the first time.”

Cas is already planning for Dean to meet his people?

The elevator dings, and Cas steps out. “Are you coming?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean says quickly. As he follows Cas down the maze of rooms, he has to ask, “You were planning on introducing me to your coworkers?”

Cas’s cheeks pink. “Unless you were opposed to it,” he mutters as he stops in front of Room 1518. He sighs, making no move to insert his keycard. Instead, he lifts his head to meet Dean’s gaze squarely. “I’ve put in a transfer request to Chicago.”

“What?”

“It was before I knew you were my soulmate,” Cas says quickly. “I’ve never felt like I fit in in California, and my parents live in Pontiac. The Chicago office is decently large, and, well, I knew you were here,” he says, his voice going quiet near the end. He straightens. “So there were many reasons.”

“You’re staying?” Dean says, his mouth dry.

Cas bobs a nervous nod. “I hope that’s okay.”

Dean grins. “Sure is.”

Cas touches the inside of his wrist, his expression turning almost shy. “Of course, when I first pictured introductions, it was strictly as a friend. I don’t really know anyone else in this city well, and I’ve told you about my difficulty in social situations, so it would’ve been more for moral support than anything else. But after this evening -”

Dean interrupts his rambling. “Are there cameras in the hallway?”

“What- oh,” Cas says, his eyes flicking down to Dean’s lips before back up again. “Yes?” He points. “They’re all the way down there, though, so they can’t -”

Dean cuts him off with a heated kiss.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #soulmates au #businessman Castiel #mechanic Dean #profoundnet #rae writes fic #i post something new every Sunday #this one kind of got away from me #but hopefully in a good way #deancas #deancas fanfic

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

This is a request for anon, who asked:

i don’t know if your requests are open, but if they are, could you do one where the reader has tattoos that dean doesn’t know about and then he sees them when he has to stitch them up after a hunt? (maybe like season 1 or 2 dean) thank you!!!

And then wrote to me privately that they have a dragon tattoo on one shoulder.

It was a lot of fun to write; tons of opportunities to slip in some good classic rock references! I miss in the super early seasons when Sam and Dean seemed to rag on each other pretty much constantly. I hope this is what you were thinking of!

Title: The Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2589

Summary: Dean is surprised to discover the reader has tattoos.

Warnings: canon-appropriate violence/mention of blood, swearing, fluff!!

Sam moves to the middle of the front bench to shuck off his coat as Dean is getting out of the car, and gives it to you with a long arm over the leather. “Can you hand me that blue jacket?”

You have to over-rotate to use your other hand to grab it, keeping your grip tight on your own shirt in the most bastardized version of a sling. Sam, of course, notices.

“You think it’s broken or dislocated?”

A hard chuckle blows out of your nose. “Really hope it’s just dislocated, I’ll tell you that.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile as he throws on the blue jacket and zips it all the way up to his neck. It looks like he’s covering something up and naturally, he is, thin hoodie and t shirt underneath drenched with enough werewolf blood that it’s clinging to his chest almost pornographically. But his face is untouched and he has use of both his arms which is more than can be said for you or Werewolf Shiner Winchester, making him the only reasonable choice to send for gauze and ACE bandages at the closest pharmacy.

Dean stops his grimace-covered stretching just outside the car and opens your door with an outstretched hand as Sam slides into the driver’s seat. “You coming?”

Taking his hand with your good one, you let Dean close the door behind you without any of the normal grumbling about treating you like you’re made of porcelain, in an effort to keep your face neutral around the jolts of pain through your shoulder. Sam pulls out of the motel parking lot ultra-gently like it’s his first day with a learner’s permit the way he does when he knows Dean is watching. It makes you smile to yourself as exhaust dissipates across the cracked blacktop.

Crossing the asphalt with tired strides Dean opens the motel door for you too, and you walk in before him. “Is that yours?” he asks, dropping his coat on the cheap couch and wincing through the removal of his flannel. In the light of the room you’re better able to see his black eye and realize it’s going to take weeks for that to go away, not relishing another inevitable conversation about makeup to sell a G-man cover story. It makes it so much easier for the families of victims to believe you’re legit when none of you look like you’ve been in a bar fight, but getting Dean to believe cover-up is in the name of the greater good is an uphill battle on the best of days.

“Is what mine?”

“The blood you’re covered in like nacho cheese. Dude, if that’s all over the car—”

He deserves credit for trying not to smile as you try to look over your shoulder like a puppy chasing its tail, but he does guide you over to the mirror on the wall to see. He’s right, blood has seeped all down your coat, sticky and shiny like syrup. It’s far too wet to be from near 30 minutes ago when you got in the car. “Fuck, I really like this jacket.”

“You have like 5 just like it taking up space in my trunk; you’ll live. Here, take that off, I’ll stitch you up.” Dean starts rifling through his bag for supplies, rolling some kinks out of his neck.

“It doesn’t even hurt, I just need you to pop my shoulder back in so I can take a shower.”

“I don’t give a shit what hurts, slugger. You’re going to pass out in the tub if you keep up the stuck pig act.”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly try to slide your arms out of the jacket, wincing when you jostle the dislocated arm. Dean takes the sopping coat from you and tosses it into the kitchenette sink from where he stands, the concern coloring his face when you look back at him not reassuring you at all. He puts the floss-threaded needle he’d had in his hand between his teeth and starts pulling on your collar.

“Shoulder first,” you insist, done wiggling and writhing out of clothes before your shoulder is where it belongs.

Dean’s mouth tightens into a firm line but he backs up to give himself enough room to shove, an exasperated hand beckoning you. “Okay, you ready?” he says around the needle, looking like a farmer field medic with a piece of hay.

“Yeah just let me—FUCK,” you grunt when he catches you off guard without any preamble, clutching at the shoulder for a moment until you could take a deep breath. You do a test rotation and are happy at the relative lack of pain, trying not to be frustrated that Dean didn’t warn you so you wouldn’t tense up.

“Shirt off.” Dean’s tone is firm and precise, no room for discussion, as he gets out a lighter and watches intently to heat up the needle.

“Wow, you sure know how to make someone feel special,” you hum, feeling much looser without the shooting pain from your shoulder. The buttons of the flannel come undone relatively easy, but the fabric makes a sickly wet thwack as you snap it down to rest around your elbows.

From his spot at your side, you see Dean’s face contort in surprise and watch as he reflexively reaches out a thumb to rub the skin of your shoulder.

“Ow, what the hell?” you flinch.

“Has this always been here?” he asks, partly amazed but mostly incredulous as his eyes trace the inky lines of the dragons where they wind around your skin.

“I wasn’t born with them if that’s what you mean.” You can tell he’s truly shocked because he doesn’t even react to the jab, just hovers a gentle fingertip over the tattoo. “Earth to Dean? I thought you were all scared about me bleeding out.”

He gulps and clears his throat before covering with a smile that’s a combination of cheeky and shy. “Right, yeah, sorry. Just didn’t realize I was in the presence of The Tattooed Wonder.”

“Hardly, I only have a few. Now start stitching before I change my mind and wait for Sam; his are way neater than yours anyway.”

“Few? Where are the other ones? Girls on the back of your leg that hula when you walk?”

“Nice try.”

He bites his lip before shifting the strap of your tank top off and sponging the back of your shoulder with a wet towel. When he unceremoniously pours a slug of whiskey over the wound you feel it for the first time and hiss, adrenaline and distraction of the joint pain worn off.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, already dragging floss tight on a stitch with his teeth and moving on to the next as quickly as he can, half-humming that old Queen song, “gonna get me on the track, got a dragon on my back.”

You weren’t lying earlier when you’d said that Sam’s stitches were usually cleaner, but Dean is being very careful in a way he usually isn’t—Chicks dig scars, Sammy! Stopped the bleeding, didn’t it?—and you tip your head back to check his work. The extra time he’s taking is to match up the back of one of the dragons, ripped open by a werewolf claw and currently held together by the delicate pinch of Dean’s index and thumb.

It’s tough, but you manage to grab the reins on a smirk. Dean doesn’t notice, too focused on trying to keep the damage to your tattoo at a minimum. The gesture and the concentration are impossibly sweet, even though you’d long accepted that ink injury was inevitable with your lifestyle.

When he’s done, callused fingertips tugging the last knot in place, Dean grabs the whiskey again. “Hold still,” he breathes, close enough you can feel it dance across the skin of your neck, and you hope he can’t see the goosebumps trailing down your arms like ivy. “That should do it. You can grab the first shower, but it’s big enough that some gauze on top for a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thanks,” you answer, startled and annoyed at your own voice when it creaks a touch. The flannel feels gross and heavy with blood, so you pull your arms out entirely and reach to drop it in the wastebasket.

“I can deal with that if you want,” he offers, ruffling the velvet-short hair at the back of his neck. “The coat too. Not the first time getting blood out of clothes.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, thanks. That would be really nice.”

Dean only meets your eyes for the most fleeting moment when he takes it before biting his lip again and nodding to himself. You get to your feet and gingerly slip the displaced straps back over your shoulder, feeling the shift in energy in the room and not knowing what to do with it. Settling for a jocular little punch to Dean’s bicep, you grin at him. “Thanks for putting me back together, doc.”

Sam comes back a couple minutes after you’ve closed the bathroom door with a translucent plastic bag full of first aid supplies. “In the shower?”

Dean looks up from where he’s sitting on the couch and hands Sam the beer he’d already gotten out of the fridge in anticipation, his leg bouncing rapidly. “Yeah. They have everything?”

His younger brother nods and accepts the bottle, taking a sip before laying out his haul on the coffee table and tossing the bag. “You okay?”

He glances up with a quirked eyebrow. “Just tired, man.”

Sam waits a silent beat, giving Dean a chance to spill whatever it is.

“Did you, ah—did you know Y/N’s all inked up like a friggin’ sailor?”

Sam chuckles and runs his tongue over his teeth. “A sailor? Y/N’s only got a few tattoos, dude.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, some people like to learn things about their friends. That’s why you’re acting weird?”

Dean scowls over the glass lip of his beer before taking a long pull. “Not acting weird, sue me for being surprised we’re working with the goddamn Hunter With The Dragon Tattoo.” His voice is low and surly like a kid on the edge of a tantrum even he knows isn’t worth it.

“Y/N can do whatever they want, Dean. It doesn’t matter if you like the tattoos, you’re not their dad.” Sam’s barely keeping the giggle out of his voice, enjoying Dean’s frustration the way only a little brother could.

“No, I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like them,” Dean stammers, the end of the statement fading off as a flush starts rising in his cheeks. He knows he’s said too much and Sam jumps on it.

“Wait—you do like them, don’t you?” He crashes onto the couch, long limbs just enough in Dean’s space to be irritating. “I bet you loooooove knowing about those tattoos—I bet you’re dying to see them.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean growls, kicking Sam in the thigh with a socked foot. Sam blocks him and starts laughing hard enough it makes him rattle all over like he’s on a rickety rollercoaster. When he finally catches his breath Dean is still pouting to whatever syndicated sitcom he’d thrown on. Over the tinny TV speakers they hear the shower turn off.

“You know, if you’re feeling shy I could say something for you.” Sam’s grin is ten steps past cheeky, firmly planted in devilish, and he waggles his eyebrows suggestively over top of dimples perfectly sliced into his cheeks.

Dean’s eyes widen like a cartoon and his voice is a gravelly hiss as he grabs a tight handful of Sam’s t-shirt, now crisp with dried blood. “Sam, I fucking swear to God—” but the threat is ineffectual, sheepish panic clear as anything on his face. The glint in Sam’s eye brightens and he twists out of his brother’s grip before he can react, crossing the room in a few huge steps so he’s nearly face to face with you when you open the bathroom door, Dean leaping off of the couch to chase him and slamming into Sam’s back when he stops short.

“Whoa, Jesus—you scared the shit out of me,” you breathe, one hand on top of your fresh t-shirt to still your racing heartbeat, fistful of dirty laundry in the other.

“Just need that second shower, didn’t mean to freak you out!” Sam smiles, warm and light and genuine. “Thanks! Gauze is on the table if you want it.” he says as he slips past you with a friendly and familiar kiss on the cheek, wink that you can’t see to Dean over your shoulder as he closes the bathroom door fast enough that the mirror next to the frame barely even steams.

“Hey, could you—” you start.

“Hey, do you—” Dean says at the exact same time. You both chuckle, and you can’t tell if you’re annoyed or not that the little charge in the room didn’t dissolve while the dried blood on you had rinsed down the shower drain. Dean holds up an open palm to indicate that you should go first.

“Could you cover those stitches for me? The skin is kind of catching on my shirt.”

“Uh, yeah. Definitely.”

Shaking your hair loose and hanging the towel it was in on the back of a kitchenette chair, you sit on the edge of the bed to tug the collar of your t-shirt as far onto your shoulder as you can. Dean snatches some medical tape and a couple 4x4s from the table and sits down next to you, the heat coming off of him soothing the chill of the few remaining drops of water cooling on your skin. “I’m gonna need more slack than that,” he says, trying to be matter-of-fact but not quite covering the gooey softness around the edges that are making his voice more sultry than gruff. You try to pull harder on the collar but it’s already digging into your neck. The hand holding the gauze floats down to Dean’s lap while he rubs his jaw with the other. “Do you—could you just take it off?”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Or live with it, see if I care.” He holds your gaze, and that stubbornness you recognize.

Reluctantly, you move your arm inside the shirt and slip it out from under the bottom hem, squirming in a way that covers your chest while exposing your shoulder. When he sweeps the shirt back you reflexively jolt away from him like you’ve been shocked. “Not being fresh, just don’t want to tape it in,” he murmurs.

“I noticed you put the lines together really straight; thanks for that.”

“Only took an extra second.” He rips another piece of tape off a roll with his teeth and is being so deliberate that now you’re sure he’s stalling for another few seconds to keep touching you but you don’t care; the feeling of his fingertips on your skin is tender and delicious.

“If I knew you were going to be that careful, I would’ve been letting you do my stitches this whole time.”

“Guess I’m just a regular damn seamstress,” he smiles, finally smoothing the last tape and only surreptitiously glancing out of the corner of his eye as you tuck your arm back into its sleeve. “So seriously, what’re the other tattoos?”

“I’m sure you’ll see them soon enough,” you whisper as you stand up, committing to memory the way it makes Dean’s pupils flare as you ease under the scratchy motel sheets on the opposite bed.

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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adhdeancas · 3 years

Text

Dean gets screened for ADHD

“I don’t really buy into the whole ‘shrink’ thing,” he blurted out as soon as he got in the door. The woman in the white coat raised an eyebrow at him, not unkindly.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a shrink, then.”

Dean floundered at that. He nodded and sat awkwardly in the chair across from the psychiatrist, perched on the edge, just in case. His fingertips bounced nervously against his leg. “Okay, yeah, sure, but- you know, the whole-” another indiscriminate arm wave, another soft smile.

“Mental health?”

“My brother thought I should come.” he confirmed, sighing and resigning himself to his fate finally. He settled back further into the chair. “Well and my- my buddy.” he looked down, his heartbeat picking up a little.

“I am going to have to ask you some questions, though.”

“Hm? Uh, yeah, go ahead, whatever you gotta do.”

Dr. Pearson took out her clipboard, an action which stopped Dean in his tracks. He was starting to feel a little boxed in. “So, first off, what are you here for? I mean, besides placating your brother.”

Dean grinned at her, the knot in his chest loosening a little. “Yeah, uh… so my brother and my… friend, they think I’ve got ADHD”

“Do you think you have ADHD?”

Dean blinked at her. “I- I dunno, I mean, I’m a little old for that, ain’t I?”

The doctor shrugged. “ADHD doesn’t have an age limit. And you’re never too old to improve your life.”

Dean held his hands up in defense. He didn’t want her to think he was just flat out dismissing it, but… “Don’t get me wrong, I’m fucked up in a thousand different ways, but for once… my life kinda feels… good. I got a good thing going. Don’t know how much I wanna change.” It felt like way too much to mess with, what if he messed it up?

The psychiatrist nodded, interested. “Tell me about that. Your life now. It’s a recent change?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Me and my family, we got past some pretty big stuff not too long ago, and uh… I got into a relationship, a good one,” he cleared his throat and wiped his palms off on his pants. “I moved and everything, and I kind of have a kid. And I have a job, a real job, for the first time in my goddamn life.” He looked up and beamed, so proud of his bar. His bar. He swore, everytime he talked about his life it sounded like a fever dream.

The psychiatrist returned his smile, which made him feel like a third grader. “Those sound like some pretty big changes. Congratulations. And you said you had different circumstances before? Would you characterize any of your past life events as traumatic?”

Dean laughed, actually cackled then. “Uh, all of them?” From the patronizing smile the doc was wearing, he guessed she didn’t believe him. “I- I was a soldier, kinda. For a while. Seen a lot of bad shit.” The doctor nodded; she started scribbling something down on her paperwork. “I’m not, like, traumatized or anything, though.”

A genuine smile pulled at Dr. Pearson’s lips as she wrote, and Dean leaned forward, eager to see what kinda joke she thought he was pitching. “You know, in all my years of being a psychiatrist, almost no one has wanted to admit they have trauma.” She looked at him and shrugged. “Most people, at least, most people who come to see me, have trauma.”

Dean crossed his arms, knowing it made him look cartoonishly uncomfortable and not being able to stop himself anyway. “Okay, can we move past this part of the- whatever? Exam?”

She nodded, surprising Dean. “We can do the ADHD screening now.”

“What, so all the rest of that was for shits and giggles?”

“Background.” She was unfazed. “Okay, now I’m going to ask you some questions about your attention and work habits and how your day to day functions, they’re called executive dysfunctions, how they work and how they present in your mind. It’s going to be a lot of questions. You don’t have to worry about any right answers, there aren’t any. And if you want to expand more on an answer, please feel free. All information helps me get a more accurate picture of your mindspace.”

Dean blinked. Once. Twice. He didn’t mean to zone out, he really didn’t, but his brain just kinda glazed over the words, like they went in one ear and out the other without translating into English. The doctor waited patiently, and he nodded his go-ahead, hoping it was the right answer. “Yeah, sure.”

She cleared her throat and flipped the page on her clipboard, looking down at a list of questions she apparently had. There were a lot of questions, some of them confused Dean, and he had to think about them a lot. He’d never thought about thinking so much in his life. His brain just worked, what the hell was he supposed to say about it?

“Are you organized?”

“Yeah, totally. Except when, y’know, if I’m going through a rough few days, then… nobody wants to do laundry when they feel like shit.”

“So your ability to maintain your cleanliness relies on your mental state?”

“Yeah, doesn’t everyone’s?”

“So, what goes through your mind if you’re having a rough day, or week, and you see laundry on the floor. Or dishes in the sink. What do you think, what do you do?”

“Well, I think I should clean it up, obviously.”

“And you do?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “It’s a lot of work.” He shakes his head. “No it’s not, I know that stuff would take me like three minutes but… I gotta get up first.”

“Do you find it hard to concentrate on work?”

“Yeah. I mean, sometimes. Research, fuck yeah. I swear to- I swear, I can’t read more than three pages before I-” He waved a hand in front of his eyes. She seemed to get it. “But if it’s like- cars, then I can work for hours and just - zone the fuck out.”

“What about watching tv? Can you sit on the couch and relax?”

“Yeah!” Dean started confidently, but then wavered. “Well, unless, I’ve like- I dunno, sometimes I just need to do something with my hands, y’know? Or some days, my car is my couch. All I need is my Baby, the open road, some music… But I can watch a good marathon, don’t get me wrong. One time I watched John Wayne’s entire life’s work in one sitting.”

“Do you lose things often?”

“All the fucking time. It’s why I try to be organized. My keys, my guns, my wallet, I know where that stuff is, I always put it in the same place.”

“Like a cubby or a bedside table?”

“Uh…” He scratched his head. Maybe he was batshit. Every answer he said made him sound crazier and crazier. “No. So, I put my keys on this one shelf of the bar while I’m there, my hus- Cas got this cutesy little key holder from a garage sale, so that’s where I keep ‘em at home. Wallet on this one ledge in the kitchen, and I’ve got a gun in basically every room.” He was hoping she wouldn’t fixate on the gun thing. Luckily, she didn’t.

“But other than those things, you lose?”

“Yeah. I- I found this one ring I lost years ago in my trunk a few months ago, and I’ve been wearing it every day. But I took it off because-” He coughed. He took it off because he and Cas were fucking on their living room couch while Jack was with Sam for the weekend and he hadn’t wanted any… roughness to his fingers. “I took it off and set it down, and I knew where I set it down, right? But then I was afraid of losing it again, so I didn’t look for it, even though I know I knew where it was. So like four days later I finally look for it, and it’s not there.” He sighed heavily, and looked up just in time to see Dr. Pearson looking at him like he was a mummy who’d come back to life and started talking about the intricacies of hieroglyphics. Okay, so he had ADHD, apparently. That was ADHD.

Dean left with a prescription for a when-needed stimulant and a weirdly light feeling in his chest. It took him five weeks to find his ring, right where Cas had put it in his bathroom drawer. He had laughed at Dean when he yelled at him, which brought Dean back down to a self-deprecating laugh. Later, Dean forwarded him an article about ADHD and object impermanence, and Cas started immediately giving Dean things he found if he thought he’d lost them. Which. Was A Solution.

#dean winchester #dean has adhd #destiel #deancas #fanfic #my writing #drabble #adhd #castiel

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sarija · 3 years

Text

@expectingtofly @starrynightdeancas

Here's my first ever written fanfic as a gift for @expectingtofly who never received her original gift from starrynightdeancas gift exchange. Enjoy 🙂

Words: 3657

Notes at the end of this post!

Home

“So I guess the question is,” Bobby asks, “What're ya gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean looks at baby, considering. He smiles back at Bobby and answers, “Well, I gotta go for a drive.”

After about ten miles, Dean pulls over. There's a lookout just a few steps from the road, and he follows the trail to the end, feeling overwhelmed by the info Bobby has given him. Cas is here. He helped Jack rebuilding Heaven. He remembers the last time he'd seen Cas. He would have given everything to see him again, to get him back, but all the efforts he and Sam had tried on Earth were useless. Now, there's a good chance he might see Cas again and he has no idea what to say to him.

At this moment, he feels the presence of someone beside him. Anxiously he turns around. For a moment, he hopes to see Cas, but instead, it's Jack and a warm feeling of relief washes over him. He doesn't know if he's ready just yet.

“Jack!” He exclaims, pulling Jack into a tight hug. “It's so good to see you, kid!”

Jack hugs him back, clapping him on the back before freeing himself. “Hey, Dean. It's good to see you too. I'm sorry I couldn't intervene...but I'm glad you are here.” Dean just shakes his head.

“You know, kid, Sam and I had an agreement of going down smashing, and this I did. I … I have no resentments over this.”

Jack offers him a short nod before saying, “Dean, I think there's someone who wants to see you. Are you ready?”

Dean then notices a figure standing way back, beside one of the bushes. He is ready. He has to be. He's been waiting so long to see him again, he can't even believe that he doubted he was ready in the first place. Dean swallows back a big lump in his throat. He walks a few steps. There he is. Just beside a big flowerbed, bees humming around busily, Dean sees him standing in the glow of the setting sun. He lets his eyes wander from the well-known boots upwards, over the hem of this trenchcoat he missed so damn much. The coat is glistening in the sunlight, it looks like it's giving off a light of itself. Over the blue tie, upwards, over the 5-o'clock beard, then those soft lips, further to these warm and blue eyes, deep like the ocean, light as a cloudless sky. And Cas is looking back at him, wondering, tilting his head just a little, the way he always did, back then when they were on Earth. Dean doesn't feel the single tear running down his cheek, he doesn't see Jack looking happily at him, he can only see Cas, standing there in the sun, looking like the most beautiful being he's ever seen in his whole life. Cas, his friend, his family, his angel and most importantly – the love of his life.

He steps forward slowly, afraid that this is just a dream, one of those damned dreams he's had over the weeks after Cas had been gone, had thrown himself into the Empty. In his dreams, Cas was there, waiting for him, but all of a sudden, he'd be gone, swallowed up by a big nothingness, or bursting out in flames and screaming in pain, or saying 'I love you, Dean' but retreating while Dean wanted to get to him, to hug him, to hold him, until his angel was gone and away.

But Cas is still there, smiling now, looking at Dean with his amazingly blue eyes. He lifts his hands and whispers “Dean” and Dean can't keep it any longer. He takes the last steps in a few fast strides and falls into Cas' arms, pulling him into a tight hug and crying silent tears onto his shoulder. Cas starts stroking his hair, softly, hushing and repeating all over “It's okay, Dean” until they both break apart. Dean doesn't want to let go of Cas, he holds his arms, looks at him over and over, but he can't find the words to describe how much this means to him. So he just stands there, breathing heavily, watching him, until he feels Cas' hand upon his cheeks, wiping away the tears on Dean's face. And all of a sudden, Dean knows there's no need to hold anything back anymore, there's no need to hide anything, because there's nothing here to threaten them. Nothing is going to take Cas away ever again.

Dean swallows, clears his throat.

“Cas... I …You ... How?” is all he manages.

Cas shakes his head. “I'll tell you later. We've got all the time in the world now.” He looks at Jack, who is still standing a little way behind them, smiling. “Now, who wants to have some dinner?”

They take the Impala to drive to Cas' place. While Dean is driving, he's absurdly aware of Cas sitting beside him in the passenger's seat. He even feels the intensity of Cas' eyes upon him, until he finally blurts out, “Hey buddy, it's good to see you too but – could you please stop staring at me? I'm not a freak show, y'know?” At that, Jack snorts loudly in the back, clapping Dean on his shoulder. He doesn't say anything else, but Dean knows that he's enjoying this moment as much as he is. He sends a small smile to Jack and Cas, but Cas has turned his face away from him, looking out of the window instead, chin in his hand. For a moment, Dean worries if his words had hurt the angel. This would be the last thing he'd want to do, especially on the first day of meeting him again. He wonders if he should say something, anything, to make sure everything's fine. But what should he say? Tell him he didn't mean it? He never was a man of apologies, and Cas knows that. He just wanted him to look away, cause his staring was so freaking distracting. He wants to return his gaze, he wants to never stop looking into those amazing eyes, eyes that had seen so much, eyes that had looked so worried at times, Dean almost couldn't even bare it. He wants Cas to be happy, to smile, to forget the bad stuff he'd lived through. And now he'd said something that hurt him. Why was it so hard to just take it back? He never knew, cause right at this moment Jack spoke up.

“It's the light blue house over there, Dean. Just drive up to the front, there's a parking spot for you beside Cas' car.”

Dean drives as being told, parking beside a yellow-brown-ish '78 Lincoln Continental. He recognizes it instantly, it's the same car Cas had been using whenever he wanted to get something done on his own, and Cas had always seemed pretty fond of it. It brings back a lot of memories and Dean starts smiling involuntary.

They get out of Dean's car and step up the front porch. Cas takes the lead, opening the white door for them, welcoming both into his home. Dean risks a quick glance at him before entering. Cas doesn't seem to be hurt anymore, he looks pleased and happy. And Dean thinks he understands why.

Dean enters the hallway, looking around and taking in as many details as he can. There is a kitchen to his right, with wooden fronts and very clean. Right ahead there's an arc, decorated with roses in different colours – red, white, yellow, lilac and pale blue. They are rooted in two pink flower pots, one on either side of the arc. To his left are two wooden doors. He guesses that one would probably lead to the bathroom, the other one he's got no idea. They walk through the arc, entering a really big living room, bright and clear. The windows here let the sun warm up the room just enough to feel right, and the light-colored furniture reflects rays of sunshine without blinding them. 'It's perfect', Dean thinks to himself, wondering where Cas got those pictures of them and Sam in the bunker. One of the photos shows them with their hands on one another's shoulders, smiling into the camera. Dean can see his own forced smile, dark circles under wary looking eyes. He takes the photograph of it's shelf, looking at him, Cas and Sam. Sammy. He's looking back at him out of the picture, smiling and waving and looking contend and happy.

“Dean.”

He forces himself to put the photo back on the shelf and turns around to see Cas standing in the doorway.

“You know, he's not a freak show,” Cas mimics, but Dean can see he's worried.

“Thanks, Cas. I know. It's just … I hope he's alright, I hope he's living a good life down there, but -”

“You miss him.” Cas finishes. It's not a question, it's a statement.

“Yeah, man,” is all he can answer. He turns around to wipe at something in his eyes, then turns again and asks, “When will we be eating?”

“In a few minutes. We're waiting for … someone to arrive here, it won't be much longer now.”

Just as Cas finishes his sentence, they hear a soft knock on the door and someone entering the house.

“Who is this?” Dean asks, but Cas is already on his way to the kitchen and Dean just follows.

–

Dean still can't believe it. He just finished his second helping of T-Bone-Steak, mashed potatoes and fried rice, everything as delicious as he'd hoped for (he'd left out the vegetables). His stomach is full and he leans back really satisfied. This is amazing. He hadn't given a thought to the fact that now that he was in Heaven, he might meet his mom and dad again. Seeing all of them on this table in Cas' dining room – Mary and John, Cas, Jack and Bobby – laughing, eating, smiling, talking about things they did 'down there' and things to do 'up here', it was unbelievable. Dean watches all of them closely. They look so full of joy he can't help grinning like an idiot. His mom is laughing hard from a joke of John and Dean enjoys to see her relaxed and free of worries. His dad claps her on the back, then starts to stroke her gently. He too looks unstressed, there's no trace of the old, haunted John in his face anymore. Even Bobby, though still being his grumpy self, seems pleased.

“Alright, Dean, I think it's time for a little storytime.” Cas watches him intently as he explains, “I think you wanted to know how I could escape The Empty and start my new life here.”

All eyes are upon Cas now. Mary puts the plates away, coming back with two six-packs of beer. She hands everyone a beer and Cas starts talking.

“As most of you know, I went with The Empty willingly, keeping my side of the deal we had made way back. Several months ago, there was a problem at hand. The Empty wanted to keep Jack. I told her to take me instead of him and she agreed to that but wanted to be sure to crush me. So she told me that she wouldn't just swap - she'd come and get me as soon as I would be truly happy. And that she did. When we talked, Dean, I had made a choice”. At this, Cas sends him the slightest smile, which makes Dean want to forgive him in an instant. “Well, as you know, this choice led to me being taken by that bitch. For a while, I lay there in nothingness, black nothing all around me, and I hoped to fall asleep, which I knew was sure to happen to everyone The Empty had swallowed. But not me. She wouldn't let me sleep because I had been an inconvenience to her. She wouldn't visit me either. I lay there until I couldn't lie anymore, I sat there for hours and hours, and finally, I stood up. There was no way to give up this easy, The Empty couldn't be invincible, right?” They all nod, fascinated by his story. Jack even has his eyes closed. Another big gulp of beer, then Cas goes on. “So I wandered around, screaming and trying to punch the Nothingness. I called her a lot of stuff just to get her attention, but it was useless. In the end, I stumbled and fell on my knees and was none-the-wiser. But that was the moment I realized it. There was nothing to be done for me alone. But there was someone who had already conquered The Empty, who had woken me up last time, who would maybe be able to do something about my situation. And even though I didn't want to involve him, I saw no other choice. So I prayed. And I was answered.”

“But I prayed too, why did I never get an answer?” Dean sputters out. Instantly, he feels the heat of shame crawling up his neck, but he still locks eyes with Jack, who has finally opened them.

“I heard you, Dean. And I am very sorry. I knew this would disappoint you, but there was no way for me to interfere down there anymore. I couldn't answer, because I couldn't bear to tell you. I am sorry.” Dean swallows hard, then Jack continues, “Then I heard Castiel. And I realized that I wasn't about to interfere down there – but The Empty was not down there, and there were several changes to be made, changes that were overdue.

I gathered up all the strength I could master. I summoned those around me who were willing to help. Gabriel was the first to respond. It might not surprise you that he had taken advantage of everyone assuming him dead, submerging into the benefits of a random gambler's life outside the radar. Yet when I called out to ask the help of every angel available, he immediately came to my side to be of assistance.

Michael was second to answer my call. He asked a lot of questions, wondering if he could trust me. He was hardest to convince – but wanted The Empty gone as much as I did. So he stayed and helped.

Most of the other living angels came to stand with us, but we still weren't enough. So I started to wake up the deceased. This was rather dangerous, as I didn't want The Empty to know something was up too soon. But Cas here did a great job – when I had awoken an angel, he'd find him and explain the matter, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once we had gathered quite a number of angels, they took their positions, waiting for my command. First step was to lure The Empty out of her hiding place. Hannah, Anna, Gadreel and Joshua did a great job with that! They annoyed her one after the other, to the point she wanted to throw them all out. Next step was to surround and distract her. So everyone did their best to get her attention, circling her in further. Then the tricky part started. While the inside angels surrounded her, kept her encircled and disturbed, enraging her further to keep her at that spot, we on the outside started to open up a crack, getting others out of there. Gabriel took an essential part here, building up an illusion to cover our crack. As soon as we had Jane and Raphael, I knew it was time to finish it, because the inside angels were taking hit after hit.

With the help of Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Jane, I managed to take hold of The Empty. Like Chuck did with Amara, we cast her out, chaining her up in the same lonely dimension Amara had once been held in. Michael sacrificed his powers to bear the new Mark that still was needed to have her caged.”

Jack pauses for a moment, takes a sip from his beer and watches the others. Mary and John are holding hands on the table, switching short glances now and then. Bobby looks like he's fallen asleep already, beer still clutched in his hand. Castiel seems to be entranced by Jack's story, elbows on the table, chin resting on his folded hands. A small smile playes on his lips and Dean notices how beautiful Cas' face looks when being relaxed. He doesn't know if he's even allowed to think this way, but he can't help it. He tries to focus on the story again.

“So, you cast her out. I guess the angels on the inside got out – seeing as Cas is here. But what about the other creatures this thing had held for an eternity?”

“Yes, that.” Jack answered, nodding. “I assumed it would be no good to send them all with The Empty. Instead, Jane and me enlarged the Purgatory, sent every monstrous creature down there and asked Rowena to magnify the intensity of their 'door'. In return she'd get the demon souls sent to Hell, and she willingly agreed to that.”

“Great.” Dean states, “more demons for her, no big deal.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers, obviously annoyed by this interruption.

“I don't like the idea of giving her more power, alright? It's no good. Rowena will use this somehow to do something bad, you know her, Cas!”

“Yes, Dean, I do know her. That's why Jack is keeping an eye on things. I thought you'd be happy to know that we all are safe now. I thought you'd be happy to see … me.”

All eyes are on Dean now, which makes him shift in his seat, feeling pretty uncomfortable.

“Man, you know I'm happy about … this all. I'm just wondering what this means for those left on Earth.”

“You mean Sam.”

Dean nods, not sure if he's able to answer right now.

Jack jumps in. “Don't worry, Dean. He's safe. I am sure of it – I can see it. Please believe me that no harm will come upon him as long as I'm here.”

This really does reassure him and he takes a big swig of his beer. He nods, satisfied for now. Then another thought comes to him.

“What about the angels you saved from The Empty? What exactly happened to them?”

“Oh, that's easy. Every deceased angel got a second chance. I made sure their loyalties were with me, then I sent them to work. There's a lot to do up here, and most angels are glad to be able to help. Michael is an exception though. As I said, he's had to sacrifice his powers to bear the new Mark, so he's powerless now. He's in hiding ...” Jake grins, “but I think … he'll bee alright.

With The Empty being gone, there were new rules to administer. Every monstrous creature – minus the demons - that dies from now on will find himself in purgatory. Demons that die will find themselves in Hell, but powerless. Rowena told me she's got some 'lovely tasks' for them. And every angel that meets his end will come back up here, being powerless but having a place to call home.”

Home. Dean looks around, taking in this wonderful place that Cas can now call his home. He loves this idea, and he feels quiet content with knowing all this.

After this, they switch the topic to easier stuff. Their conversation is light now, mostly about stuff to do in Mary's and John's house, like fixing a little hole in their roof, or repainting their furniture. John even asks if Dean would help him restore a '64 Ford Falcon and Dean eagerly agrees to be there tomorrow. But after a while of talking about the ups and downs of this special car, Mary stifles a wide yawn and John laughs. “It's time I guess! Thank you for this wonderful dinner and a great evening guys. Guess we'll see each other next week?”

“Same time, same place,” Cas answers grinning. “See you tomorrow, Dean,” John says and pulls him into a tight hug. Mary ruffles through his hair before hugging him, then she too says good-bye. Jack wakes up Bobby, half-pulling him out of his chair and tells him that it's time to get home. Bobby grunts, gives Dean a nod, and walks out the front door without another word, probably too tired to speak. Last to say goodnight is Jack, and he pulls both Dean and Cas into a big hug. They clap his back, and Dean thinks he can hear Cas whisper 'I'm proud of you' into Jack's ear. They all say good-night, then Jack is gone too. Closing the door behind Jack, Cas turns around to Dean, watches him closely, a slight pink shade on his cheeks.

“There's a guest room down the hall if you want to...” he leaves his sentence unfinished, but Dean understands.

He looks Cas in the eyes, feeling his heart suddenly hammering against his chest. There were words he wanted to say, but he doesn't remember. He's surprised – all those years down there, he had to hold everything back, and he has no fucking idea how he did that. Cas' eyes are still watching him, asking silent questions. Throwing cautions in the wind, Dean finally closes the distance and pulls Cas into a gentle kiss, hands on his cheeks. After a moment of surprise, Cas kisses him back, his lips soft and warm, and lays his hands around Deans waist. Their kiss seems to take an eternity, Dean has no feeling of time anymore, he just feels Cas' lips on his, and he knows that this is his happy place. His peace. His... he allows himself to think the word – his home.

Notes:

This fic is a gift for @expectingtofly on tumblr as part of the starrynightdeancas gift exchange. It's my first-ever written fanfic and I'd love to know what you think about it! I had a lot of fun writing this, creating my own kind of fix-it fiction. Also, I tried to stay canonical – with one exception, because I will never accept that the trickster was truly finished off!

Please note that I’m not a native speaker and there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry! But I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Have fun reading and leave a comment if you like <3

Not yet posted on AO3, still waiting for my invitation. I’ll have you updated as soon as I can post it there!

#starrynightdeancas gift exchange #first fanfic #destiel #destiel is canon #canonverse #Also non-canonverse cause I don't believe in your reality #Fluff #Sappy #POV Dean Winchester #Gabriel's alive in my reality

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jawritter · 3 years

Text

Daddy’s Home

Summary: Dean’s been away from his Omega too long, and he has a very interesting way of waking her up to let her know he’s home.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Smut, this is pretty much porn with almost no plot. Oral (female receiving), mentions of rut, hint of a breeding kink, Daddy kink, unprotected smut, abo dynamics, knotting, scenting marking, a hint of possessiveness that comes with abo. language, I think that’s about it.

Written for: @spnkinkbingo

Square Field: Daddy Kink

Word Count: 2087

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes and general bullshit are my own! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

Masterlist My Patreon

You always knew when your Alpha was close to his rut, even if it was a damn week away. There were certain aspects of him that changed during the time when his hormones were at their highest, and the most basic animalistic instincts seem to shove their way to the forefront of his personality.

You’d caught him more than once slipping up behind you while you were doing the dishes to brush against you to layer you with his scent, letting everyone and everything around him know just who you belonged to. He’d also become a lot more cuddly than he normally was, wanting to hold you while you read a book in the evening, or wanting you to sit in his lap while you watched movies together in the big recliners in the Dean Cave. It was nothing but an excuse to scent you, but you always craved the closeness of your Alpha, so you really didn’t mind at all.

He was with you all the time. You could do nothing alone, not even shower. Every time you turned around he was there. You often wonder if it was because his brother, Sam, who is also an Alpha, shared the bunker with the two of you, and he felt the need to guard you from the other Alpha in the place, but you never really looked into is and just accepted it as just something Dean would do close to this time.

Then of course there was the sex. There was literally no point in even putting clothes on to go to bed when Dean was this close to a rut. They’d just end up in shreds on the floor before the night was out...or before he even climbed into bed…

Dean had been on a hunt now for at least three weeks with Sam, a shifter from the looks of it, and it had been killing him to be so far away from you when he was this close to going into rut, and feared more than anything that’s he’d end up going into full blown rut if the hunt hadn’t ended when it did.

You were never a hunter, you just never wanted to be involved in that aspect of it all. You were fine with research, and you were also good at it, but that also means you were often at home and away from your Alpha, who was whining on the phone with you liked a kicked puppy when you had hung up with him tonight because you were still a state over and he wasn’t home to you yet; even though they were on their way back now Dean was becoming very impatient.

You didn’t like the distance either, but you knew what you signed up for the moment you had agreed to let Dean claim you. So it was just something you’d have to endure as long as Dean was hunting, which was probably going to be for the rest of your natural lives.

You don’t know what time you’d gone to bed that night, but it hadn’t been all that late, honestly you think you did it out of boredom. The faster you fell asleep, the sooner you’d be in your Alpha’s arms anyway. It honestly didn’t feel like you had been out all that long, and at first you weren’t sure if you were just dreaming or not. It was one of those moments where you were pretty sure you were awake, but somehow still asleep all at the same time.

In your “dream” you were almost certain that you could feel the warmth of someone’s tongue on your core, sliding through your folds and around your clit, making you shiver even in your sleep. A sleepy moan falls from your throat at the feeling, and you force yourself out of the blanket of sleep, opening your eyes to be greeted by the sight of your Alpha with your legs spread wide, and his mouth lapping at your cunt in an almost animalistic, possessive manner, purring like it was greatest thing he’d ever tasted and sending a gush of slick from your core at the sight alone.

“Dean,” you moan breathlessly, and the Alpha’s eyes meet yours with the golden glow you had become all too familiar with penetrating the dark room, and making the Omega inside of you quiver and submit without him even having to say a word.

He never stopped doing what he was doing, just growled in response as he took your swollen bud in between his sinful lips, sucking at and causing your back to arch off the bed as his fingers press bruisingly into your hips to hold you still for him.

All coherent thought flew right out of the window as he then started to eat at you like a man starved. Most of the humanity that he normally clung to was far gone from him, and the raw, animal instincts of the Alpha taking the reins as his tongue dipped into your slick heat, fucking you with his impossibly long tongue, stroking your inner most walls as his stubble left the most delicious burn on your thighs and his nose brushed against your throbbing clit in the best way.

Deep rumbling growls resonated from his chest as he continued to lap at your cunt, flattening out his tongue against your pussy, rubbing the heat of his mouth back and forth over your slit as he thrust his long, dripping Alpha cock against the mattress, desperate for friction, but to engrossed in tasting you that he couldn’t stop if he wanted too to fuck you, not yet.

His perfect white teeth nibbling at your clit next as he sank three fingers deep into your convulsing pussy. Fucking you slowly as his mouth covers your swollen nub and he presses himself harder onto your mound, picking up the pace of his licking and sucking, alternating patterns of his spongy, hot tongue over your clit until heat was pooling in your center and your walls were twitching around his fingers as he scissors you open, preparing you for his knot after he milked your cunt for all you could give him, needing to taste your sweet heat that he’d been craving as your release pushed closer and closer with each pass of his tongue, his teeth, his lips…

“Fuck Alpha,” you cried as your walls started to crumble around his fingers and you came harder than you had since the morning he’d left for the hunt.

Dean slowed his ministrations, lapping up all that you had to give him as your slick coated his fingers and his chin, moaning at the taste of what he’d been craving the most. The thick ring of his knot was already turning an angry shade of red and swelling slightly as he fucked himself into the mattress, and even in your orgasmic state, you shivered at the thought of your Alpha being that desperate for you.

You were still twitching with aftershocks of your high when Dean’s full length slammed into your quivering cunt with one swift thrust, and his lips found yours in a passionate kiss as his tongue invaded your mouth and he swallowed down the your scream as he filled you to the brim with his cock, damn near splitting you open.

“Fuck Omega, I missed you,” he growled as he started to fuck you slowly, pulling out only far enough to create a slight amount of friction, but not enough to really give you the sustainable push and pull you were both craving.

“I missed you too Alpha,” you whimper underneath him, the sheer weight of his body holding you in place as he drives his cock deeper, rutting himself inside you and putting pressure on your still sensitive clit.

“So pretty when you come apart like that baby girl. Been dreaming of tasting you since I backed out of the garage and left you here,” he breathed out between a moan of his own that had your cunt squeezing his knot as he rutted himself harder into your center, not pulling out at all now, but keeping the connection between you so deep you were pretty sure the tip of his length was pressing into your womb.

“Please Alpha,” you beg him desperately, needing more of him, needing to feel him knot you, needing to feel his warm cum filling your pulsating cunt. Desperately needing that connection that only existed between an Alpha and his Omega.

“Please what Omega, what is it you want from Daddy,” he growls, licking and nipping at your claiming mark, causing you to arch your back off the bed and press your pebbled nipples against his broad and warm chest.

“Fuck me Daddy, please. I need your knot Alpha,” you beg him, your legs shaking as you grind your hips against his, pushing his cock even deeper into your tight channel, making him snarl into your throat at the feeling.

“What me to fuck you pretty Omega, Want Daddy to knot you, fill you full of his cum, fuck a pup into that pretty little cunt of yours,” Dean pressed, feeling your body trembling underneath him as he you tried desperately to grind on the cock that was buried inside of you.

“Yes Daddy please!” you scream, caring if Sam heard you or not, all you needed was your Alpha’s knot, it was all you cared about, it was all you could think about it. The need for him consuming you like a raging fire under your skin.

You watched as the Alpha took his rightful place, and the last bit of Dean’s resolve broke. His hips snapped into you at a punishing pace, dragging his manhood in and out of your pussy with enough force to nearly fuck you clean onto the floor as he chased his release as well as yours. You could feel the thick ring of his knot starting to catch at your entrance with each thrust of his hips and you knew neither of you were going to last long before you were coming apart all over again.

“Omega,” Dean groaned as he buried his face in your neck, lapping at your mating gland, while his free hand found its way to your clit. “Feels so good baby girl. I need you to come for Daddy, come on Daddy’s knot Omega.”

With two more thrust of his hips into yours Dean’s knot popped as he rubbed your clit furiously, locking the two of you together as your walls greedily sucked him in deeper, and you came so hard around his knot that he roared above you, shaking into his own release and coating your insides with is seed.

When you both had come down from you high Dean carefully rolled over onto his back, laying you on his chest as he waited for his knot to go down. The scent of his rut had calmed for now, but you knew it was just beginning, and it was only the calm before the storm.

Dean’s chest rose and fell at a more steady pace as you nuzzled into his neck, breathing in as much of his scent as you could manage at a time.

“I missed you Alpha,” you tell him, shivering and clenching around his knot that was still buried deep inside of you as his fingers trailed up and down your spine soothingly, causing a moan to fall from his pink, swollen lips and more cum to spill out into your heat.

“Well, if I’m not too old, and we get a pup out of this rut since you stopped taking your birth control, then it’s the last one I’m going on anyway. I’m getting too old for it. Sam and the other hunters can keep things under control, and if I do go out it won't be often. It’s getting too hard to be away from my Omega, and every time I do it throws me into a rut.”

You look up at him hopefully, letting him capture your lips in a soft, more sensitive kiss than the one he’d shared with you moments ago.

“Promise Alpha?”

Dean chuckled and nuzzled into your hair, growling you playfully, causing you to giggle and sending a whole new wave of pleasure through your still conjoined bodies.

“I promise little Omega. Daddy’s home for good.”

And he meant it this time. It was time for his happy ending. The ending he deserved.

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#dean winchester #daddys home #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #alpha!dean winchester x omega!you #alpha!dean #omega!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #abo #abo dynamics #spn fanfiction #spnkinkbingo #spn smut #alpha!dean winchester smut #jensen ackles #jawritter

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 9)

Summary: The reader and Tessa spend their first Christmas with the Winchesters and their friends, resulting in an eventful night...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Please enjoy this final part! I loved writing this one and exploring everything this series had to offer!

_________

Reader’s POV

Christmas Night

“Hello ladies,” said Dean, popping his head out from the hall and into the room Tessa was staying in. “Mind if I steal your sister?”

“Go for it,” she said, jumping up from bed and rushing over to her suitcase. She pulled out a box and held it out. “I thought I left it at home but Y/N found it in the hall. It’s your other present.”

“The zip up was very nice of you already,” he said. He tore off the paper and you smirked from bed, Dean making a face as he looked at the box.

“It’s a mug. I made it in art class,” she said. He opened the package and went wide eyed, staring at her as he pulled it out.

“Tessa, this is really good,” he said, smiling at the little D.W. she’d painted on the side. “You made this?”

“Yeah. I’m good at ceramics,” she said with a shrug. “If you don’t like it that’s okay.”

“I have a new favorite mug,” he said, giving her a hug. “I can drink out of it, right?”

“Yeah. It’s fine for using and dishwasher, all that,” she said.

“Well I for one am glad you are getting your minor in art next year,” he said.

“Really?”

“School’s important but you gotta have some fun,” he said. “This is one of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.”

“I made everybody one,” she said with a shrug. “I gotta give Sam his still.”

“I think he’s out with Eileen and a few other people in the hot tub.”

“I was gonna go hang out with Jack, maybe we’ll head out there,” she said. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Make smart choices,” he teased as she walked out. You stood up from bed and walked out to the hall, wrapping your arms around his waist. “She loves me.”

“Yes she does,” you said, a big smile on his face. “You like that, huh?”

“Yes, I do. Besides, I gotta get her on board if I want you,” he said. “How am I doing so far?”

“Oh so you’re curious if I love you,” you said.

“More than you could possibly understand,” he said. You smiled and stood up on your tip toes, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“Dean. I love you.”

“Good because I love you,” he said.

“That’s very good,” you said. He gave you a kiss, resting his hands along your hips.

“Wanna take a walk with me?” he asked. You nodded and let him take your hand, following him downstairs and into the foyer where you dressed in your coats and boats, hats and scarves. You walked out the front with him and down the driveway a ways until you were on the private road up there, twinkle lights adorned in the trees.

“This really is beautiful up here, Dean,” you said, your gloved hands laced together.

“It is. Never really thought this would ever be my life growing up,” he said.

“We had holidays like this when we were younger,” you said. “It’s not really about the presents or the lights at the end of the day though.”

“No, it’s definitely not,” he said. “I know we only got here yesterday but are you enjoying it so far?”

“More than. I don’t dread these things anymore. I don’t dread life anymore.”

“Can I ask what your plans are for once Tessa goes to school next year? I know she’ll be living at home but she’s gonna be out and about more often,” he said.

“I don’t really know,” you said. “What about you?”

“Sammy’s interested in the place two doors down across the street. He might put an offer in,” said Dean.

“What ya asking Dean?”

“If you asked me six months ago if I ever thought I’d love someone, I’d have said no that wasn’t for me. But then I met you and things changed. I’ve never really asked if you’re a marriage kind of gal I guess.”

“If I loved him I would marry him. I’d have a family of our own with him too,” you said. Dean nodded and you bumped his shoulder. “Death is the price we pay for living. But I think what I’ve learned these past six months is that caring and loving someone is worth the pain at the end of the day. The pain subsides and it’s still there but it doesn’t destroy you anymore. So yeah, I’m definitely open to marriage and kids and the dog with the white picket fence thing.”

“My fence is brown,” he chuckled.

“I can look past that detail,” you said. “Would you ever consider marriage?”

“Yes. I absolutely would,” he said. You smiled and he squeezed your hand. “You think I’m gonna like...propose or something now?”

“I think I love you and anything else, whenever or if ever that may be, it would just be a cherry on top,” you said. “I don’t need a ring or to be Mrs. Winchester to tell me how I feel.”

“I figured as much. Safer to ask though,” he said. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and held out a small wrapped box to you. “Merry Christmas sweetheart.”

You dropped his hand so you could unwrap it, finding a black box inside. You took off the lid and smiled, looking back over to Dean.

“You like it?” he asked shyly, blush appearing on his cheeks. “Tessa helped me pick it out.”

“Dean are you proposing?” you asked. He cocked his head and you turned the empty ring back towards him, his face falling.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” he said, covering his face. “I never put it back in the box. It’s at home. Oh my God I’m so dumb.”

“Dean,” you smiled, tilting your head and wrapping your arms around him. “Is there something you’d like to ask me?”

“It would make this idiot very happy if you decided to marry him,” he said with a smile.

“M’kay,” you said, pulling him down for a deep kiss. “That’s a yes by the way.”

“Even if I’m an idiot?”

“Told you I don’t need a ring, Winchester,” you said. “Just need you...Mr. & Mrs. Winchester has a nice ring to it though.”

“Technically it’s Dr. and…” he trialed off as you kissed him again. “God I love you.”

“I love you,” you said, throwing your arms over his shoulders. He tripped and fell back in the snow, laughing as you went with him. “Fuck I love the shit out of you.”

“I second that,” he said, rolling you to your back and kissing you. “Your sister is a hard nut to crack you know.”

“Did you ask her about this?”

“She’s very protective of big sis...but she said some very sweet things to me,” he said.

“She’s a sucker for you guys,” you said. “But she’s not the only one.”

You rolled over and meant to put him on his back but you ended up shifting and rolling down the hill with him, landing in a big pile of snow. You couldn’t see him at first but he was giggling like a kid and it was just about the best sound you’d ever heard in your life.

“I love you,” you said as you sat up. He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned. You jumped on top of him and rolled around in the snow, throwing snowballs and playing until both your jeans were soaked through and the cold was getting to be a bit much.

“Hey. You want to warm up with me in the shower?” he said.

“Absolutely,” you said. You walked back up the hill with him, picking up the box from the road. He threw his arm over your shoulders and tugged you close into his side. “Maybe we can even have a little fun in that jacuzzi tub.”

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled.

“That’s my boy,” you said, taking off your hat and pulling it over his head.

“I can get used to that.” He took off your hat and his baseball cap, putting the cap on you and tugging your hat back on.

“You’re never getting that blue Henley back by the way,” you said.

“You’re never getting your black hoodie back,” he said. You stopped and he pushed his hat down over your face.

“Dork,” you said, pushing it up and wrapping an arm around his waist. You walked up the road, chilly when you walked back inside. You took off your coat and boots, tossing everything on the rack.

You caught Sam and Tessa peeking their heads down the hall, both of them in their bathing suits. They stared at you and Dean, both dripping water.

“Yes we’re engaged,” you said.

“Yes!” said Tessa, Sam giving her a high five.

“Finally,” said Sam.

“Don’t you two have people to go make out with in the hot tub?” said Dean.

“Gah, like I’d do that in front of him,” said Tessa.

“I was having a perfectly good time with Eileen until you and Jack-“

“Goodnight guys,” you said.

“They got engaged!” shouted Sam, different parts of the house shouting back. Dean pulled you up the staircase and down to your room, locking the door behind you.

“Hi,” you grinned, kissing his nose.

“Hi. Wanna warm up?”

“After you, sweetheart.”

Three Months Later

“I’m beat,” said Dean, arm slung over your shoulders as the two of you walked up the street towards your house. You’d spent the day helping Sam and Eileen move into Sam’s new house just down the road, sticking around to unpack dishes and boxes long after everyone else had gone home.

“Our boy is all grown up,” you teased, Dean leaning against you. “Happy Sammy’s so close by?”

“Yup,” he said with a smile. “I think us older siblings did an alright job.”

“We still have to get Tessa through college,” you said.

“She’ll be fine. She wants to major in medicine sciences. I may or may not be able to help her out there some,” he said.

“Nerd,” you said, getting a smack on the ass from him. “Boy.”

“Girl,” he said, smirking and kissing your cheek. “It’s not the easiest thing in the world, I know, but she’s smart. We can all help her out. Except her art minor homework. I have no clue on that,” he said.

“First semester will probably be the roughest.”

“She’ll be okay,” he said. “What I am worried about it the fact she’s making us dinner tonight.”

“Ten bucks says it’s box mac and cheese.”

“Oh she informed me that it would be epic. I have high expectations,” he said.

“Hm, that must clearly be a good sign,” you said, nodding to your front porch where a very burnt tray of something sat on the step.

“Is it too late for takeout?” he chuckled.

“Let’s hope not,” you said, climbing up the steps. “We’re home!”

“How’d it go? We saw the...wait...it smells shockingly good in here,” said Dean, taking off his coat.

“I’m a better chef than you two give me credit for,” she said from the kitchen, humming as she worked over the stove. “I burnt the biscuits but everything else is nearly done.”

“If it tastes as good as it smells we should have you cook for us more often,” you said.

“Laugh it up,” she said. Dean pulled you upstairs and you washed off the sweat of working all day, changing into something relaxing in time to walk downstairs and spot Tessa setting plates down at the table.

“Oh. Fancy,” you said, Dean pulling out your seat for you. You sat and he took his own, Tessa humming as she pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge and sat it down on the table. “Alright. What are you up to? This is way too nice.”

“Nothing. I knew you guys would be tired and you guys always make me dinner and stuff,” she said.

“Mhm,” you hummed, Dean smirking up at her. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“This what I get for being nice. I’m going over Jack’s,” she said.

“Make smart choices kiddo,” said Dean with a wink. She groaned and messed up his hair before she took off, Toast trotting after. “Take my car if you want, Tess.”

“Thank you!” she called back, ducking out the door after a moment.

“Well this was very nice of her,” you said. You cut into your chicken and paused, showing it to Dean and giggling.

“Maybe tomorrow we’ll show her how to use a meat thermometer, make sure the food is actually cooked,” he chuckled, picking up the plates and scraping the food in the trash.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you said, picking up the bottle of wine.

“Yes it is. What are you thinking?” he asked. “Taco Saturday?”

“I want a big ass burrito,” you said. “With extra cheese. And nachos.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, washing up his hands at the sink. “Wine and Mexican food. Perfect combo if I do say so myself.”

Three Months Later

“You got me a car!” said Tessa, hopping up and down when she opened the front door. She ran over to it and pulled off the bow, sliding in behind the wheel.

“You were worried she wouldn’t like a used one,” chuckled Dean in your ear.

“I was not,” you said, slapping his chest, Toast running out past you. You watched Sam and Eileen come out of their house a few down, Sam staring over in your direction. “We’ll meet you there!”

He waved and they climbed in, driving past with a honk as Tessa squealed.

“Alright, alright,” said Dean. “We got a graduation to get to, ladies.”

“Cheers,” said Dean, laying back on the lounger on the balcony, toasting his glass to yours. You stretched out and rolled over closer to him, kissing him gently. “You’ve officially survived the high school phase.”

“Why do I feel like the college phase is harder,” you laughed.

“She’s already got the college boyfriend down,” he said.

“Yeah but Jack is Jack. He’s sweet. She’s the one I worry about.”

“You’ll always worry,” he said, his arm hanging loosely over your shoulders. “Kids sound like they’re having fun down there.”

“She’s happy. It’s all I could ever ask for.”

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“I’m home,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. You hugged his waist, Dean shutting his eyes with a smile. “You want to get married next summer?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said.

“Come on. You gotta have some opinions on this,” you said.

“I kinda like the idea of a spring wedding. Maybe May or something. I wouldn’t mind honeymooning somewhere on a beach,” he said.

“That sounds great,” you said, his fingers dancing along your arm. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Shoot.”

“I almost asked my dad if I could meet you once you know. The boy from the mail room. You seemed...I don’t know, like a really good person.”

“Did I meet expectations?” he asked.

“Blew right past them,” you said, getting a kiss on the temple. “You happy?”

“I got my girl. I got my brother. Got Tessa and Eileen and my friends and Toast and this little baby, Miracle,” he said, picking up the sleeping puppy beside him. “I have never been so happy in my life.”

“Good,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Want to go see if there’s any graduation cake left? Bet it’d go good with this bourbon.”

“God I love you,” he chuckled as he kissed you. “So fucking much.”

“Me too, Dean. Me too.”

_________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #winchester #dean spn #doctor!dean x reader

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autisticandroids · 3 years

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ok how would girls au work because i feel like to keep true with the theme of toxic gender roles them being cool and butch feels very at odds with that when like the girl version of that would be like christian girl with an instagram talking about country life and her future husband like it would be an interesting combo for them because john would be like ur an inherent failure for being a girl but also the expectations are lower already for them compared to john and sons

yeah it’s like weird! but i think about it a lot. i made a big fun post with it here.

basically my ideas are a combination of serious (dean) interesting (sam) and self-indulgent (cas).

like first of all i think sam is an out lesbian and i think she came out during the fight before stanford. like, i think she told dean when she was like fifteen, but she told john the night she left. she spat it in his face, actually.

i think dean is like. dean loves her unconditionally but is also lightly homophobic to her about it, you know? they were accustomed to sharing motel room beds as kids but dean won’t do it anymore now that she knows sam likes girls. dean is also like, weird to her about her interactions with other women, and also talks constantly about men, as though men-liking were a cool exclusive club only dean is invited to.

i think sam has like butt length straight hair and doesn’t wear any makeup ever but doesn’t like. wear mens clothes or anything, like she wears plain clothes that are cut for women. on hunts she puts her hair in a braid. maybe she braids a spiked strap into it like beka cooper.

dean is like........ dean is a lot like young, pre-john mary i think. think the song remains the same. dean is obsessed with performing masculinity, while at the same time terrified of seeming mannish or queer. she walks a weird line, and ends up overperforming both masculinity and femininity. she regularly challenges dudes twice her size to arm wrestling contests in bars, but she never goes out of the motel room without a full face of makeup. like she’s obsessed with doing both. masculinity for respect, and femininity for conformity. you know that thing dean does with his voice? the harshening? the intentionally adopted accent and tough guy tones? she does that too. and her voice is raspy, like rachel miner’s. she’s just as invested in her “heterosexuality” as canon dean.

she wears dean’s same green army jacket but underneath it she ties up a flannel shirt so it bares her midriff. she wears her hair like s13 mary, except that sometimes she puts it in little pigtails.

cas is the easiest because cas’ gender presentation doesn’t matter at all except in how OTHER PEOPLE relate to her, so it’s less a question of “how would cas do woman?” and more a question of “what would it be fun to see other people/dean specifically react to?”

so basically like. jimmy novak is a frumpy feminine christian mom. still wears the trench coat and probably a suit but when i say suit i mean blazer, pencil skirt, tights, blouse (or maaaybe a button down), low-ish heels. long hair in bouncy curls (think rowena’s hair but no bangs and black). actually jimmy novak probably pinned her hair up in a slight updo.

anyway i’ve decided that i refuse to try and remember what actually happened with cas falling in like, canon, like how close he got to human. this au’s cas gets close enough to human that she has to start like. showering. anyway she can’t take care of the hair so it gets tangled in a giant rat’s nest and dean gives her a bathroom chop. she has to borrow the winchester sisters’ clothes, because she has to start changing clothes but also because she can’t fucking walk in jimmy’s heels or in that confining skirt without the assistance of her grace.

all the winchesters’ clothes look baggy on her because she’s kind of spindly and narrow and flat as a board. like dean and sam have big shoulders, big hips, and big breasts, and cas has zero out of three, so anything she wears looks like a smock. she keeps wearing the coat over whatever they give her. she’s tallish (five feet eight or nine inches?) but dean is taller and sam is freakishly tall. cas could probably pass for a man alone but when she’s with dean or sam it’s obvious she’s a woman just because of the heights.

when she returns to angelhood at the end of season five, she’s wearing jimmy’s white office button down, but no bra underneath because the only reasons she would need one would be to either make her boobs look bigger or to hide her nipples and cas isn’t interested in either of those things and bras are uncomfortable, no blazer on top, a set of cargo pants that look feminine and form fitting on dean because dean is in possession of an ass and hips, but baggy and dykey on cas because she is not, combat boots (also dean’s), and the coat, and her hair is just like canon cas’ hair but way choppier because dean cut it for her.

anyway, dean treats cas in a WILD way, like. they do some intricate rituals in season four? they are dean winchester and castiel, after all. but after cas butches up in season five and then stays that way dean pushes it into overdrive. “i wish you were a boy so i could date you” shit. dean lets cas put a hand on the small of her back. she jokes that cas is her boyfriend. when cas sleeps, they sleep in the same bed, “since you can’t possibly share with sam, she’s a dyke.” also she called cas cassie a lot when cas looked more feminine but switches exclusively to cas when cas looks more masculine. like it’s this whole “”””straight”””” girl intricate ritual where one is attracted to a masculine woman so one coercively masculinizes her further.

sam tries to check in with cas to see if cas is cool with this forcible masculinization and weird gender relationship, because sam is gay and Understands or at least thinks she does. she also catches wind that cas is here to smash a lot sooner than in canon. but anyway cas rebuffs her because cas hates sam.

tangent, but one of my least favorite things that happens in mid spn, starting i think in s6, is that they start needing plausible deniability for cas, so they start pretending him and sam are like, friends. like 6.20 “i did it to protect the boys. or to protect myself. i don’t know anymore.” like there’s all this emotional stuff where cas is clearly talking about his emotional connection to dean, but sam gets included in order to make it seem SLIGHTLY less gay. and that’s annoying because of the no-homo-ness but it’s actually more annoying because 1) i liked s5 cas’ bitchiness towards sam i think that killed and 2) if sam and cas are gonna be friends after cas was a bitch and called sam an abomination and shit, develop it! develop it! don’t just Say that they are.

anyway it’s my au and i say what happens so the plausible deniability “both the brothers are important to me” shit does NOT happen and cas is a bitch to sam throughout s5&6. they do eventually bond later? like cas still takes sam’s hell trauma, and sam feels like she owes her for that (even though it was CAS’ FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE but sam is batshit like that). so that’s what kind of gets them to eventually bond a little and become friends and comrades.

also sam clocks cas as gay. obviously. sam tries to inform cas about being gay. because sam too is gay. it only kind of sticks. cas doesn’t really understand how human societal roles work. cas has HUGE angel autism and i support her.

also as long as we’re talking about five and six, why don’t we deal with male lisa. so obviously the kid thing doesn’t work. the thing that lisa does that makes dean like :o is not “have a kid that might be dean’s” but “tell dean he was going to propose.” this implies that they were dating in the past longer than canon dean and lisa but oh well.

however, when dean gets pulled back into hunting, she’s six weeks pregnant by lisa and doesn’t know it. cas immediately tells her, and offers to give her an angelic abortion. she accepts without hesitating and cas does it. the fact that this - cas taking ownership of dean’s reproductive organs in a somewhat invasive way, even if it was wanted - contributes to their whole.... season six..... dynamic. dean never tells lisa about this.

that’s everything i can think of. i have work in four hours.

#spn #asks #pregnancy tw #Anonymous #girls au

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imagineteamfreewill · 3 years

Text

A Good Kind of Not Okay

Title: A Good Kind of Not Okay

Pairing: Nanny!Reader x Director!Sam

Word Count: 4,414

Warnings: A little bit of pining

Square Filled: Director!Sam

Summary: Sam is a single dad who also happens to be one of the world’s most famous movie directors. When he struggles to care for his daughter like he wants, he hires the reader to help care for his pride and joy.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2020-2021 SPN AU Bingo (@spnaubingo). Please let me know what you think. Enjoy!

_______________

Sam was running late. Again. Filming was behind schedule for the third time that week, and as the director, he had to stay until everything was finished. Of course, he was part of the reason why the filming was behind schedule. He couldn’t help it. Sam was a perfectionist, and he always had been. That’s what got him hired.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Sam said. He glanced down the street and then turned. “I’m on my way, I should be there in ten minutes.”

“Mr. Winchester, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be there soon.” He ended the call before the center director could chew him out any further. He felt bad enough as it was, he didn’t need more reminders and warnings about being late. He really did try to keep a normal schedule, and he always made arrangements if the filming was scheduled to go late into the night or early in the morning, but there were some things that were out of his control.

The roads were blessedly empty and Sam pulled into the parking lot in just over five minutes. He wasn’t normally one to speed, especially if Elsie was in the car with him, but it was times like these when he was thankful for the extra horsepower. The Charger was the last big thing he’d bought for himself before his daughter was born and he rarely took advantage of its capabilities. Dean constantly nagged him about it.

Climbing out of the car, he grabbed his phone from the cupholder and rushed inside where he knew Elsie was waiting. The day care was completely deserted except for her and the director, who was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, alternating between watching the front doors and the small child perched at the plastic drawing table beside her. Even the lights in the back playrooms and the office were off.

“Mr. Winchester, I’m glad you made it here okay.”

“Daddy!” Elsie bolted from her chair, abandoning her backpack and leaving the crayons to roll off the table and onto the floor. Sam crouched to scoop her up as soon as she was in arm’s reach, and his daughter immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I’m late,” he murmured, and he cradled the back of her tiny head in his hand. He still couldn’t get over how tiny she was, even at four years old.

The director stood from her seat, clipboard and radio in hand. She gave him a scolding look. “Mr. Winchester—”

“Please, call me Sam,” he interrupted. “And I know, you can’t keep waiting with her. It won’t happen again.”

Her expression turned withering. “That’s becoming a catchphrase for you. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but Elsie can’t keep coming to Gilded Hearts after the end of this week. We have very strict policies about parent pick-up and you signed a contract agreeing to uphold them. You’ve broken that contract multiple times this week alone, and I can’t count the number of times you’ve broken it otherwise.”

Sam frowned, shifting Elsie in his arms so he could pick up her backpack with one hand. “You’re kicking her out? Please, don’t kick her out just because I messed up a few—”

“It’s been more than a few times,” the director pointed out. “If it had been an emergency, it would be a different story, but we can’t keep staying late with her because you can’t seem to be able to pick her at the time you agreed upon when Elsie first started coming here.”

Lifting her head, Elsie looked up at Sam with big, hazel eyes. She’d perfected his own puppy dog expression solely to use on Sam and her Uncle Dean, and Sam’s heart sunk. The guilt settled in and suddenly all he could think about was how selfish he’d been. He’d been putting work in front of his daughter, something he promised he’d never do, and now he had to face the consequences.

“Okay. You said the end of this week?” Sam asked, sighing. The director nodded and gave him a polite, albeit tight, smile. “Alright. Thanks for staying with her. Have a good night.”

The director waved goodbye to Elsie, then watched in silence as Sam carried her out to the car. It was still sunny out and Elsie squinted, whining a little when he stepped out of the shade provided by the enormous oak trees that guarded the day care’s entrance.

“I know. Your sunglasses are in the car, honey.” Sam dug his keys back out of his pocket and unlocked the backseat, then carefully situated Elsie in her carseat. The tiny pair of Minnie Mouse sunglasses were right where they always were, and once his daughter was buckled in, he handed them to her so she could slip them on. She did so immediately.

“Are you sad, Daddy?” she asked. Elsie reached out a hand, grabbing onto Sam’s coat before he could back out of the doorway and go around to the driver’s side.

“I’m not sad, babygirl. Daddy’s just tired from work. Are you hungry? You ready to go home and eat?”

After a moment, Elsie nodded and let go of his coat. Sam shut the door and let out a long sigh as he went around the back of the car. His head was pounding and he was exhausted from shooting in the heat all day, but getting food in his little girl’s stomach and making sure that she got everything else she needed before bedtime had to be his priority right now. Then he would have to figure out where she was going to spend her days after the week was over. She couldn’t exactly come to work with him on an R-rated movie set. The impending migraine would have to wait.

_______________

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked, and you raised your eyebrows at her for a brief moment, then crouched down to her level.

“I’m Y/N. What’s yours?”

She held onto the door handle with both hands, swinging her weight on it as she stared at you. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name.”

“That’s very smart,” you replied, smiling. “Is your daddy home?”

“Who’s asking?”

A laugh almost slipped out at the cliché response, but you carefully held it back. You started to answer when a very tall, very handsome man in a suit stepped up behind the little girl in the tutu.

Nodding, you stood and held out your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N, from the nanny agency. Are you Mr. Winchester?”

The man smiled politely and shook your hand before reaching down to scoop up Elsie. He held her on one hip and stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. He didn’t even seem to be bothered that his shirt and jacket were now rumpled from being squashed by the little girl and her very fluffy tutu, nor did he seem phased when she reached out to hold onto the tie around his neck.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Please, call me Sam. I’m glad you could come on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem,” you replied. You glanced around the entryway of Sam’s enormous house, a little surprised. It was grand, but compared to some of the others in the neighborhood, this house seemed more… lived in. Turning around, you smiled politely. “Is there anything you wanted to ask me that wasn’t in my file? I know that they already sent over my resume, references, and bio, but there’s always something that people want to know.”

Sam gave you a once-over before closing the door. “You’re a live-in nanny, right?” he asked. You nodded. “I don’t have any questions, but how about you check out the guest room before you decide if you want to stay? The last nanny we tried had some issues with it.”

“Issues?” you repeated, suddenly a bit more hesitant, and Sam gestured for you to follow him up the stairs. You did, glad that you’d left your suitcase in the car. The staircase was immense and it would’ve been a pain to drag it up all the way.

As you walked, Elsie chattered to Sam, who glanced at her and replied when necessary. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but it was clear that he cared deeply for her. Every nod, every thoughtful reply, every second of eye contact he offered her reassured you that this would be a good family to work with for your next position. It would certainly be better than your last one, that was for sure.

When you finally arrived at the opposite end of the hallway, Sam pushed open a door and gestured for you to enter first. You did, taking a look around. The “guest room” was more like a deluxe suite and you had to remind yourself not to let your mouth hang open as you took it all in. It made you wonder if there was some sort of housekeeper or maid that cleaned Sam’s house, because there was no way he kept the room as beautiful as it was, worked, and took care of his gorgeous little girl.

“It’s got an attached bathroom with a shower and a tub, and you’ll have your own private balcony. It overlooks the backyard and the pool, which you’re welcome to use at any time. There’s a walk-in closet through that door,” Sam pointed to a closed door off to the right of the bathroom, “And there’s an office across the hall you can use if you want. There’s a printer and internet hookups in case you’re having problems with the WiFi. You shouldn’t, but it never hurts to be prepared. Of course, if you don’t like the furniture I’ve got in here we can move it and you can put your own things in. I hired a decorator for the whole house when I first moved in and I haven’t done anything with the room since then.

You nodded, a bit overwhelmed. “Right. Can I ask what the issue was? That the last nanny had?”

“She didn’t like the view from the balcony, apparently, and she complained that she was too close to Elsie’s room.” You frowned and Sam shrugged. The distaste was clear in his voice as he continued, “She said she preferred to have a room near the other adults in the household instead of the child that she cares for. My room is on the other side of the stairs we came up.”

Elsie started to wiggle in his arms and he set her down, not looking away from you. She instantly ran over to the bed and climbed on top to sprawl out over the plush white comforter.

“The room is great, Sam,” you replied, nodding. “It’s amazing, actually.” You glanced back at Elsie and sat on the edge of the mattress. “How’s the bed? Comfy?”

Elsie giggled and nodded before rolling onto her stomach to look at Sam. “Is this my new nanny?”

“I think so,” Sam replied. He looked over at you and you nodded. “Looks like it, Elsie girl! You can show her your room and your playroom in a few minutes, okay? First we gotta do the grown-up stuff.”

Grinning, the little girl scrambled off the bed to run off to another part of the house. She shouted a quick “Okay!” on her way out of the room.

“So, you think you’d be okay being her nanny? Obviously I’ll let you look over the contract and you can take it to a lawyer if you need—”

“That’s not really necessary,” you told him, holding up your hand to stop Sam from going any further. “I’ll look it over downstairs if you wouldn’t mind getting me something to drink while I read.”

“Water okay?”

You nodded, and you and Sam headed downstairs where the contract was waiting.

_______________

Working for Sam was one of the best things that had ever happened to you. Not only was Elsie adorable and one of the smartest, funniest kids you’d ever nannied, but her dad was amazing, too. He never failed to make you laugh and though he was constantly overworking himself during the day, you admired the way that his focus was entirely on Elsie and his homelife as soon as he parked in the garage. Even if he finished work at three in the morning, he came looking for his daughter the minute he was home. If she was awake, she was always more than happy to cuddle up and watch a movie, go swimming in their pool, or just show him the pictures she’d worked on for him during the day. Then, as soon as the little princess was in bed, Sam’s attention turned to you. That was one of the best parts of your job, though it was becoming a problem. No matter what Sam did and despite your best efforts, your crush kept growing. He was just too great, and you worried that someday you’d be heartbroken when he brought home some gorgeous movie star. Then you’d have to quit, and not only would you be out of a job, but the best two people in your life would immediately become a part of your past. That was the last thing you wanted.

It wasn’t until you’d been the nanny for eight months that Sam asked you to bring Elsie to set. The request caught you off guard—usually he avoided involving Elsie in anything that had to do with his work because of the nature of his films—but you knew that he was a smart guy, so you loaded up the almost-five-year-old into your car and drove to the address he’d texted.

“Daddy!” Elsie squealed. Sam’s head turned towards you and he smiled wide when he saw Elsie dragging you by the hand across the packed dirt of the filming site. She had insisted on wearing her princess dress, and the sight of her in the poofy, sparkly dress and Minnie Mouse sunglasses was enough to make anyone laugh. You were thankful you’d put your own sunglasses on before you’d climbed out of the car, otherwise the sun’s glare would have been too bright for you to even see Sam. He had his glasses on as well, and you briefly wondered if he’d take them off at some point so you could see his eyes in the sunlight.

“Hi, Bug!” As soon as she was within his reach, Sam picked her up and swung her up onto his shoulders. The move was almost one fluid motion and though he did it all the time, you still marveled and Elsie still giggled.

The man Sam had been talking to—you vaguely recognized his face from a magazine in the grocery store checkout—was dressed in an elaborate suit of leather armor. He glanced over at you as you approached, but he quickly turned his attention back to Sam.

“So what are you going to do about her?” the man asked.

Sam glanced at him before looking up at Elsie, smiling wide. “We’ll have a talk. Don’t worry about it, Erick.”

Ah, so he’s the action hero, you thought, and you looked the actor up and down. He looks shorter in person.

Erick turned and caught you staring at him, and his lip curled up in disgust. “Who are you?”

“She’s my best friend!” Elsie replied before anyone else could. You smiled on instinct.

“Right...” Erick drawled. He looked up at Elsie and the disgusted look on his face didn’t fade even as he walked away to a u-shaped cluster of chairs and makeup vanities. He was immediately swarmed by women fussing over his hair, makeup, and costume.

Once he was fair enough away, you turned towards Sam with raised eyebrows. “So. This is the movie business,” you retorted.

He laughed and adjusted his grip on Elsie’s little legs. “Something like it, yeah. Don’t worry about him, he’s always like that. It’s not one of his redeeming features, but he was the favorite for this role. Do you guys want a tour of the set?”

Elsie cheered and wiggled a little on Sam’s shoulders, and he tightened his grip accordingly. You nodded in agreement.

“A tour would be great, Sam, but aren’t you on your lunch break?”

Sam shrugged and started walking. You followed close behind as he began to explain the set in terms that Elsie could understand. She was smart, and she loved big words, but she was still just a kid. After a while, he managed to commandeer a golf cart for the three of you, and you ended up riding around not only just the set, but in between all the trailers and the service roads that surrounded the site. You had to admit that the area was beautiful, even if it was hot and dusty.

Eventually, you, Sam, and Elsie ended up outside his trailer. It was smaller than the actors’, but he explained as you followed him up the steps that he really didn’t use it much, and he only had one for this part of production because they were filming in a more remote location than usual. Food was waiting for you on the small dining table inside, and all three of you breathed a sigh of relief at the air conditioning.

“Can I come to set tomorrow?” Elsie asked as she climbed up onto the couch.

Sam handed her the hot dog from the container marked with her name and smiled a little. “Not tomorrow, Ells. Maybe another day,” he said. He picked up the two remaining containers and held out the one with your name scrawled across the top.

After murmuring your thanks, you settled down on the opposite side of Elsie from him and opened the styrofoam box. Your favorite sandwich was inside and you smiled over at Sam, a little bit surprised that he’d remembered. He didn’t make or order you food often, since you normally ate with Elsie during the day and on your own at night so that Elsie’s attention wasn’t divided between the two of you.

“You mentioned that it was your favorite that one time we went to the boardwalk,” Sam said, noticing your surprise. “It just kinda stuck in my brain, and I saw it on the menu when I was ordering our lunches before you got here.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you replied, honestly shocked. No one had ever remembered your usual order. “Thank you.”

Sam nodded in reply and the three of you dug into your meals in relative silence. Elsie finished first, like usual, and she was starting to dig through the things in Sam’s trailer when there was a knock at the door.

Elated, the little girl ran over and tugged it open, the force of which pushed her down to sit on the top step of the entry. “Hi!” she cried, and you sat up on the couch to see who she was talking to.

“Hi!” a woman chuckled. After a second, Elsie popped back up and led the short-haired woman into the trailer by the hand. “Is this your daughter, Sam?”

“No, this is a monster!” Sam grabbed Elsie around the waist and pulled her into his lap, growling playfully. Elsie squealed and squirmed as he tickled her, and the woman laughed. You smiled too, but you reached over to move Sam’s half-eaten meal out of the way. You’d seen this play out too many times to think that he and Elsie would be able to avoid knocking it onto the rug.

Elsie finally freed herself from Sam’s grasp and scrambled into yours. You wrapped them around her, hugging her tightly, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Sam caught your eye and grinned wide before looking back at the woman still standing in his trailer.

“What’s going on, Jody? Are we having a wardrobe problem again?” he asked, getting to his feet.

She shook her head. “No, but I heard a certain someone in here really likes princesses, and I thought I could give her a little tour of the wardrobe trailer,” Jody replied with a slow smile.

“Right, the wardrobe trailer with all the princess dresses…” Sam looked back at Elsie, who was watching him and Jody with wide eyes. She’d cued in on the key words in their conversation and was practically vibrating with excitement in your arms. “What do you say, Elsie? Would you like to go with Miss Jody to see the princess dresses for daddy’s movie?”

Elsie nodded vigorously and you let her down off your lap. She grabbed Jody’s outstretched hand with a wide smile and waved at Sam as she was led down the steps that led out of his trailer. The door slammed behind her and Jody, and after a second, you stood and gathered up two of the discarded lunch containers.

Sam stared at you as you carried them over to the trash, and finally you looked up at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring at me, Sam. There’s not something on the back of my pants, right? Or shirt?” You twisted, trying to get a look at your back just in case, and your face grew hot at the idea that you’d been walking around with Sam-freaking-Winchester, the super hot, award-winning director, all the while looking like a slob.

“No, no. I just…” Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He watched through the window as some of the crew members walked by outside, then dropped his hand back down and looked back at you. “We need to talk about something.”

Oh no.

“Sure, is everything okay?”

Sam sat back down on the couch and gestured for you to return to your own seat. You did, and you purposefully folded your hands in your lap so that you wouldn’t fidget and give away how nervous you felt. Your stomach was twisted up in knots.

“Yes. I mean, no, but… It’s a good kind of not okay.”

“Oh…Okay.”

“That didn’t make sense,” Sam said after a second.

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed, smiling a little. “Is this about Elsie? Is there something different you maybe want me to do with her? Or do you think it’s time for her to go back to a daycare, or even a preschool? She’s almost in Kindergarten anyway. I really don’t mind just watching her in the mornings and afternoons, if that’s what you need.”

“Do you not want to work with Elsie anymore?” His eyebrows furrowed and you quickly backtracked. “Because if you don’t—”

“No! No, I love Elsie. She’s an amazing kid, Sam. I just… I’m trying to figure out what you mean. A good kind of not okay?”

Sam sighed and nodded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees for a few moments as he thought, then leaned back and relaxed against the couch cushions. You watched in silence, and with each passing second, the feeling that you might puke just from the suspense of the whole thing grew.

“I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot,” Sam finally said.

“I like you and Elsie too, Sam, but what’s that got to do with this?”

“No.” He shook his head, reaching over to put one large hand over your folded ones. You froze, absolutely stunned. Sam had never touched you except for handshakes, or maybe in passing when he took Elsie from you.

“Y/N, I really like you. I like you in the non-professional sense.”

Oh.

“I like you in the romantic sense,” Sam continued. “And I’d really like to see you romantically, but you’re my employee. I don’t want to cross any boundaries, and the only reason I’m telling you this is because I think that you might want the same thing.”

You swallowed, looking down. Slowly, you relaxed your grip on your hands and let him take one of them in his. After a second, his thumb began to rub over your skin and the feeling was hypnotizing. “I do. Want the same,” you added. “I’ve liked you a long time, Sam.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, Y/N.”

Looking up at him, you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “I don’t. I don’t feel pressured, Sam. I really do like you, and I was honestly worried I’d have to quit if you ever brought home some famous movie star or something. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Sam smiled wide, his eyes lighting up. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that?” You shook your head. “A really long time, Y/N. Almost the whole time you’ve been Elsie’s nanny,” he admitted, and you grinned back at him.

Any nerves you’d had were completely gone now. Sam’s touch—even though it was just his thumb on the back of your hand—was more soothing than you could’ve ever imagined, and though the butterflies in your stomach were alive and well, you’d hoped for a while that you and Sam would have this conversation.

“Really?”

He nodded and brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it. The butterflies leaped for joy.

“That’s a long time. I didn’t even catch on,” you told him.

“I had to be careful. And to be honest, the only reason I suspected you liked me back is because Elsie started talking about how you and I act like one of her friend’s parents whenever we’re together. She started asking questions and it made me think.”

You laughed. “That little girl has got a brain bigger than yours. She’s gonna grow up amazing.”

Sam hadn’t stopped grinning at you and you felt your face grow warm under all the attention. If this was an old black and white movie, you would’ve swooned by now, but now his smile was beginning to fade. You sensed that the other shoe was about to drop and your own smile wilted.

“I’ve got you to thank for a lot of that,” Sam said, his voice softer. “We can’t be together if you're my employee, Y/N.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you murmured. After a second, you gave him a sly smile. “You and Elsie just need to put your big brains together.”

_______________

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