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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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It's just like, you have an angel sitting in the backseat of your big black muscle car. You're playing led zeppelin on the radio. He knows all the words to the song because you taught him all the words to the song. He's wearing a trench coat and the body of a suburban dad from Illinois. Your brother is asleep in the passenger's seat, but the angel doesn't sleep unless something is really wrong, and if something were really wrong you probably wouldn't be thinking about the fact that you have an angel of the lord (is he even of the lord anymore, or is he of you?) in the backseat of your big black muscle car listening to led zeppelin, and not for the first time you realize how absurd that is. This thing, this holy, divine, ancient thing, is leaning his head against your car window watching the mile markers pass by and tapping his fingers to a cassette tape you made when you were 19 and not yet so burdened by the weight of the world (though that isn't to say you weren't burdened, just not by as much as you are now). You stare at his profile in the rearview mirror instead of staring at the open miles of two lane highway in front of you. He's not the closest you've ever gotten to divinity, but he's the closest you've ever gotten to normal.

That's the core of the absurdity, finding normalcy in an angel. Finding habit in the way he brings you coffee every morning as soon as you wake up. Finding comfort in his hand on your shoulder. Finding fondness in his smile when you make a bad joke. Finding irritation in the roll of his eyes when you're both too stubborn for your own good. It's normal, it's familiar, and if you would've told yourself 15 years ago that an angel would worm his way so deeply into your heart that there are times you can't tell the difference between the two - past-you probably would've told now-you to fuck off.

He meets your eye in the mirror finally, you're surprised it took him this long since it feels like you've been staring for hours (that's normal too, the staring. At first you thought it was an angel thing, but eventually you realized it was just a him thing, and then it became a you and him thing, and then it just stuck). He half smiles at you and your heart catches in your chest. But it doesn't catch because an angel is smiling at you, it catches because he is. Because at a certain point you stopped thinking there's an angel sitting in the backseat of my big black muscle car and started thinking the love of my life is sitting in the backseat of my big black muscle car. You turn up the led zeppelin, and smile back.

#this turned into something different than what i originally planned lmao #ik everyone is unsolvednatural posting today but i am multitasking #destiel #deancas #spn #destiel ficlet #(idk i never know what constitutes a ficlet or not)#gina.spn #sshdjs not u guys reblogging before i caught the typo 😔✊ ig this is my legacy #gina.writing #3k+#&drabble

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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Cas just makes me go a little crazy because like, he's not just old he's ancient. He's literally one of the oldest, oldest things in the whole universe. He's been alive since the dawn of creation billions of years ago but he tells the Winchesters with absolute certainty "the things that we've shared together, they've been the best part of my life." I can't even fathom that. Cas is like, older than every single tree on the planet, a majority of the stars in the sky (some he might even have helped put there), and humanity itself - and spending about a decade with Sam and Dean has been the best part of all that time.

And not only that, he falls in love! He literally spent an eternity and a half being god's little heavenly warrior and he meets Dean and just, immediately falls in love with him. Like, no matter exactly when you think Cas fell in love with Dean the fact is that the time he knew him was so short compared to the rest of his existence that it might as well have just been love at first sight. 12 years up against billions. That's a fraction of a fraction of a fraction - but he still did it! He saw humanity evolve from fish on a fucking beach and then he falls in love with one. I quite literally cannot imagine that.

Like you are divine you are primordial you are worshipful you are unfathomable and you are in love with a man who wears novelty socks and knows all the words to every led zeppelin song ever written. You are a supernova coveting a speck of stardust and when he smiles at you, you feel butterflies in your stomach. You're older than the ground you both are walking on and you think he doesn't love you back - but the worst part is that he does and you don't know you're wasting time. For the first time in your incomprehensibly long life you have something you want to hang onto and you don't know you're letting it slip through your fingers. If there's anyone in the world that's had an abundance of time it's you - but you'd trade all those billions of years for just one second where he holds your hand and kisses you but it's a fucking tragedy because you don't know he wants that too. You don't know you could have that if you asked. You may be ancient but you are not all-knowing because if you were you'd wake up every morning wrapped in his arms and lean on his shoulder while he makes breakfast. You're old and you're getting older but for once you want to stop and take it all in, take him in, because you meant it when you said this has been the best part of your life. He's been the best part of your life, all 13+ billion years of it.

#i LITERALLY think about this all the time #i also think about deans perspective like. of course he thought cas couldnt love him back cas is literally like. hes an angel #i dont know how else to explain this hes an ANGEL #fuck #anyways #castiel #destiel #deancas #spn #gina.spn #gina.writing #&drabble #1k

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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Can NOT stop thinking about team free will (+the rest of the crew) at a big shopping mall.

• Sam would make Cas try on a bunch of different clothes and Dean would have an aneurysm seeing Cas in something fitted and not layered for once

• Dean buys at least one thing from each vendor at the food court ("they have chocolate dipped soft pretzels Sammy, how am I supposed to say no to that?")

• The sheer vibes of an angel of the lord on an escalator carrying shopping bags would knock me out cold

• They all shoplift things at one point or another but Rowena and Crowley would compete to see who could shoplift the most expensive item

• Ultimately it is Claire that shoplifts the most expensive item and Rowena and Crowley end up in mall jail

• Jack would buy an incredibly comically large stuffed animal from the toy store and would refuse to let anyone else carry it

• Eileen buys Sam a novelty moose hat (also from the toy store)

• The boys go absolutely wild in the flannel store (while Eileen and Cas sit on the bench outside the store the way awkward husbands do)

• Charlie takes Kevin and Cas to the combination piercing/tattoo parlor and gets their ears pierced. Cas, of course, just gets one ear pierced and gets an earring that looks like a little bee

• Cas and Dean walk around the mall holding hands like a couple of dads and everyone teases them relentlessly about it, which only makes them hold hands harder

• They all make the people who work at the outdoorsman store very uncomfortable when they are comparing the pros and cons of the different machete brands

• Dean disappears for an extended period of time and he was definitely Not At The Jewelry Store Looking At Engagement Rings, Why Would You Even Think That, Charlie

• Sam buys an ASL for dummies book that Eileen pretends she doesn't see

• Dean forces Sam to buy a bunch of dumb knickknacks to decorate his room with

• Claire and Kaia drag Cas into a bath and body works and Cas ends up buying like, every candle they sell ("Here Dean, this one smells like apple pie, I thought you would enjoy it")

• Kevin is the only one who buys actually like, normal clothes

• Charlie, Claire, Kaia, and Jack get into Shinanigans at the arcade

• Say it with me: shopping cart races

• They all cram around one table outside eating frozen yogurt after mall security kicks them out for being a general nusciance

• They then pull a Heist to bust Rowena and Crowley out of mall jail

• The Heist does not go well and they get a lifetime ban from the mall

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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Okay but jackles reboot concept has me thinking. Like Dean screwing around in heaven for a few (earth) years and but it's obvious he's gotten bored and lonely and he hears about some big bad making moves on earth through some recently dead people so he asks Jack to send him back down to help. So then obviously Jack does, and then he finds Sam (who has since gotten married to Eileen but they do NOT have kids yet this is important just hold on) and it's a bro reunion moment.

Anyway so Cas ends up coming down too because the generic big bad has really become a code red at this point, and it immediately becomes VERY obvious Dean and Cas haven't talked since the confession (there's the implication that Cas has been scared of Dean's reaction and assumed he wouldn't want to see him, and Dean still having high functioning repression/abandonment issues even in death).

So they're really not gelling in fight scenes and awkwardly not talking to each other so Sam pulls Dean aside and is like "dude, what the fuck? I thought you guys would've worked it out by now it's been (however many) years. And you're literally dead, Dean! What the hell are you guys gonna do just avoid each other for eternity?" And Dean's all "you wouldn't get it, Sam" and then Sam's like "well maybe I would" (referring to him and Eileen, says it in a way that means "I would get what it means to be in love actually you're just being Dean about this, he loves you and you love him and you're both being idiots so what are you waiting for?" Also potentially Sam and Eileen are in the middle of some kind of argument when Dean shows up so they're having relationship problems at the same time, which they then resolve before Dean and Cas resolve their mess.)

So they beat the big bad with some ultimate teamup of tfw/wayward/werewolves (garth's pack)/maybe other resurrected fan favs whatever that's not the point, the point is after that Dean and Cas end up in a room alone and have a Conversation where it's Cas saying "I saved your life, Dean. Forgive me if I did it in a way that made you uncomfortable." And then Dean's like "No that's not what it's about". So Cas is irritated and snaps back with "Then what is it about? You could have prayed to me anytime in heaven and I would've come to see you. The only explanation I can come up with is that you just don't want to see me." Then Dean just comes out with "Well you just said all that crap and then you left me! Don't you get it, man? I wasn't happy living in a world you weren't in! I never am! And I'm pissed at you for leaving me and I'm pissed at you for dying and I'm pissed at you for not coming to see me. And I- I'm pissed at myself, because all this time you didn't know. You thought you were in it alone, but you aren't. You really, really aren't, Cas." And Cas is looking at Dean and says "What're you saying?" and Dean steps forward and says "I'm saying this" and grabs Cas and kisses him.

Anyway it ends with Jack letting Dean stay and live his life on earth (with Cas) because they've fucking earned it. ALSO, one of the final stingers at the end is Sam saying something like "oh, well Eileen was feeling kinda nauseous this morning so she stayed home" and then it's like ".....wait. She..... hold on."

And it's REQUIRED to end with Dean and Cas slow dancing in their new (lake) house while Sam rushes out to get back and see Eileen, and he catches a glimpse of them in the window like the Garth/Bess moment.

#jackles i wrote your reboot for you feel free to hmu any time to workshop it #destiel #deancas #saileen #spn #gina.spn #gina.writing #destiel ficlet #spn con #death tw #100+#&drabble

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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Sometimes being in love with your best friend for years is just, like that.

Because life is long and mundane and it takes entirely too much time to get from day to day to day to day, which makes it hard to even pinpoint the moment when it happened — the moment when you knew. Was it when you first met? Was it 2 years ago, during the biggest fight you've ever had? Was it last tuesday, when they laughed at something on the radio and you looked over at them and thought in a hazy sort of way: I want this every single day for the rest of my life.

So when you do realize (or, maybe, when you stop fighting it) that when you look at them, it isn't how you look at anyone else. It isn't how you feel about anyone else. That they built a home inside your heart somewhere along the way, and now they've set their foundations so completely in the core of you that even shaking them slightly makes you physically shift, makes you tilt and lean and stare into their eyes and brush your hand against their upper arm any chance you can get.

That at a certain point that single, coiled feeling wrapped around you so tightly that it's almost like you can forget it's even there. That it's easier to pretend it isn't, even though you know that it is. That you know it would be easier if it was gone, that things would be so much simpler that sometimes it even makes you angry, makes you desperate — why can't I give it up? Why can't this be enough?

And it is enough, except for all the times when it's not.

When they smile, privately, at you over their coffee. When you run your fingers through their hair while they nap on your couch. When you look at them, and want to kiss them until you can't breathe (which is more often than you allow yourself to admit). When they sing, or when they laugh, or when they argue with you about trivial nothings, or when they steal french fries off your plate.

When they save you in a million million little ways and they don't even know they're doing it. When sometimes, just for half a second, you think you see the same desire in their eyes that you know is in yours. But maybe their irises are mirrors, and you got too caught up in them and saw your own reflection.

Because in the end, you couldn't stop if you wanted to — and really, you don't. Sometimes you say you do, you think you do, but you don't. Because it's gotten to the point where you don't know who you'd be without them, without that flutter in your chest whenever they're around. Without those tuesdays when they laugh, or those morning coffees when they smile.

Because being in love with your best friend is just like that, no matter how hard you try.

#gina.spn #gina.writing #wow have not used the writing tag in a while #destiel #spn #destiel ficlet #&drabble

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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let me help (since you’re already half my heart)

okay, I take it that some people wanted a continuation of the fic idea I had in this reblog. I, personally, wanted to not do my homework. This worked in everyone’s favor here (except for my grades).

15x20 fix-it rewrite of Dean’s death scene - Cas saves the day edition

[AO3]

"I need you, I need you to tell me it's okay," Dean begs, holding Sam's gaze please tell me I can go you have to tell me or I won't be able to, "You tell me it's okay."

Sam swallows hard and opens his mouth to respond, "Dean, it's-"

"No, it's not."

Sam jumps at the interruption, Dean slowly slides his eyes past Sam's shoulder. He knows that voice. Fuck, does he know that voice. Guess Jack must've pulled him out after all.

"It's not okay, Dean," Cas says, stepping around Sam. "You're not going anywhere, not yet, not if I have any say in it."

"Cas," Dean whispers, looking at him like he's a welcome ghost, "You real?"

"Of course I'm real," Cas affirms, or, reaffirms, as it were. What about all this is real. We are.

Dean looks awestruck, not all there enough to try to hold back the stars in his eyes that always come from looking at Cas. Cas, for his part, does hold back - he's got a job to do.

"Sam, I'm going to pull your brother off this-" Cas tilts his head a bit, "large nail, I suppose? Can you support his weight while I heal him?”

Sam nods once, finally, something I can do to help, "Definitely."

"Okay," Cas reaches his hand around Dean's back, "Dean, are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

With that, in one swift motion, Cas wrenches Dean free from where he's staked up. Dean lets out an involuntary groan, and Sam's knees buckle slightly before stabilizing.

Cas presses his hands to the mess of a wound on Dean's back. That's certainly pierced an artery or two, Cas thinks, this will be... more difficult than I thought.

He concentrates, screwing his eyes shut, pushing as much of himself into this as he can. Dean's breathing is erratic, and, horrifyingly, it's starting to get quieter.

"Cas," Sam says, his voice drowned in worry, "Cas, it's not working."

Cas clenches his teeth in something that could only be described as a snarl and rips his hands off Dean. Sam starts to protest before he sees Cas flick his wrist and slip his angel blade down his arm. Cas takes the blade in one hand and cuts a long slice down one palm, then gives the other the same treatment. Pure grace spills out through the cuts, casting shadows and suddenly making Castiel's hands the brightest light source in the room. He moves them back over Dean’s puncture wound. Work, please work, don't do this now, don't let this be when my grace finally fails for good.

Sam and Cas hold their breath, Dean takes out another labored one that could very well be his last, or second to last, or third to last, or-

"It's not enough," Cas shouts. He moves from his position behind Dean and nudges Sam over. He brings his bleeding, glowing hands to Dean's face. "Dean, Dean, look at me. Do you trust me?"

What a stupid question, Cas, "Course, 'course I do."

"Do you know what I'm asking you?"

Oh, oh. Shit. "I- yeah, yes, yes, I know."

Cas nods and leans in, lips slightly parted and hovering a few inches from Dean's. The glowing from his hands dims, and suddenly there's grace floating like smoke, like blood in water, from Cas' mouth - curling into Dean's. Cas' eyes light up a more brilliant blue than they already are, and Dean's half-closed eyes light up the same. It's not clear whether it's Dean or Cas who closes the distance, though realistically, it's probably both of them. Hell of a way to have a first kiss.

Dean feels the tendrils of Cas' grace wrap into him, coil around his soul, seep through his skin and stitch up the ripped muscles in his back. It's strange, Dean's been a vessel for an angel before, but it didn't feel quite like this. It didn't feel... it didn't feel so familiar. It didn't feel like coming home.

Of course it feels like that, though, Dean thinks, it's Cas. That's just what it feels like to be around Cas on a normal day. At that thought, Dean can feel Cas smile slightly against his lips. You feel like home to me too, Dean. You always do.

Suddenly, or slowly, all at once, or piece by piece, Cas disentangles his essence from Dean's. They part their kiss, and open their eyes to look at each other. They've looked at each other a lot, seen each other a lot, but this is different. Markedly different. Like the universe looked at them and decided to synchronize their heartbeats from this moment forward.

"Are you okay?" Cas breathes out.

Dean lets out a soft laugh, and nods his head.

Cas lets his hands fall from Dean's face and makes way for the crushing bro-hug that Sam pulls Dean in for a second later. He stands off to the side as the two exchange a few words of relief, followed by one, two quick pats on Sam's cheek from Dean and an understanding nod from the former as he turns to walk to the exit. Sam shoots Cas a thankful smile as he walks out of the barn, Cas returns it easily.

After Sam's a good few steps out of earshot, Dean saunters up to Cas, smiling. "That's a- that's a pretty cool trick you got there, Cas."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it, I'm fairly certain it was my last one."

Dean furrows his brows, "What do you mean?"

Cas drops his eyes to the floor, "I- my grace has been failing for some time, Dean. Saving you just now, I think that was the last of it."

"So, you're tellin' me you're human? Again?"

"It would seem so," Cas says, still not quite meeting Dean's eye, "But-" and there, that's when he finally looks up, "But, I don't think it'll be so bad. Not as long as I have someone to pass the time with."

"Yeah," Dean laughs, moving forward and draping his arm around Cas' shoulders, "Funny you should say that, I think I might know just the guy for the job."

"Hm, I think so too."

- - -

Tagging ppl who specifically asked in the reblogs/comments so you guys get some closure, let me know if you want to be taken off!

@thenightwolf732 - @goblinwritergay - @queer-things-dont-happen-dean - @opinions-nobody-asked-for

#destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel ficlet #deancas ficlet #spn fanfic #destiel fix it #god #im very tired lmao #gina.spn #gina.writing #100+

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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Let it Linger

In which Dean keeps picking up chicks at bars, Cas is not jealous, Dean has a cereal organization system, team free will (2.0) has a movie night, and Cas has some hookups of his own.

8k words

*this is a preview, you can read the whole thing here on ao3

Cas noticed Dean was feeling restless.

Well, it’s not only Cas that noticed, it’s just that Cas is the only one who offered a suggestion to fix it. After an hour or two of Dean pacing around post-hunt and organizing, then re-organizing, then re-re-organizing the cupboard, Cas proposed they go out and find something to do. Dean lit up at that and said Hey, wanna go to a bar? Cas accepted, if only so Dean would stop trying to alphabetize the cereals for a while.

Sam and Jack looked engrossed in binging through The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, so it's just Cas accompanying Dean out tonight.

Cas doesn’t mind bars, really. They’re actually kind of entertaining once you get used to the drunken yelling and occasional uncoordinated fight. If he lets himself sink far enough back into his seat while watching the crowd it almost feels like the old days. The old old days of watching humanity from afar. Back before hell, or the apocalypse, or the wars fought in the name of it. Back before the Fall, and dying more than once. Back before Dean. It's odd, statistically speaking this past decade and change only amounts to what could be considered the space between one blink and the next if he were human, but to Cas it feels like all that time before was just leading up to now. Like it was all a protracted prologue to get him here. Here, incidentally, being a bar a few stains short of seedy on the outskirts of Kansas. It's not a glamorous life, all things considered, but it's one he finds comfort in.

Dean holds up two beers in triumph as he weaves his way back to their booth, the smile on his face crinkling the corners of his eyes. He's getting old, Cas thinks, but it's not like I'm particularly young either.

Dean slips into the seat in front of him and slides one beer across the table, Cas catches it on instinct. "So," Dean starts, "What's the plan for tonight?"

Cas sighs and looks around the bar, digging his thumbnail under the label of his beer. "I'm not sure," he turns back to Dean with a faint smile. "We could always relax. You did just get your wrist broken by a ghoul, you know."

"Yeah, but you healed me, so I'm all good."

""Healed" and "all good" are two very different things, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Whatever man, I think I’m fine." His eyes go straight from the roll into scanning the bar.

Dean's not paying attention, so Cas lets himself look. Lets himself catalog Dean's features for the millionth time - the curve of his nose, the slant of his jawline, the hairs out of place, the freckles painted onto his skin. Cas has still never gotten tired of looking at Dean. He thought he would, at first. He figured it was just a holdover from knitting him back together. Just checking my work, he'd tell himself. A brush of Dean's shoulder every now and then to shift a freckle he realized he'd gotten an inch out of place, or a hand on his back to wipe away the last of the claw mark scars from a werewolf hunt gone bad when he was just a teenager. He'd check Dean's soul most often, make sure it was intact. Still bright, still Dean, still there.

But as his grace ebbed and waned, and in the times it's been gone altogether, he'd gotten the chance to look past Dean's soul and instead see Dean the way everyone else sees him. The Dean with the goofy smile and bow legs and "delicate features", as he was told by a slightly drunk Sam that their cousin once put it.

These days, he looks less at Dean's soul and more at just Dean. Cas thinks, somehow, the way the "regular" Dean Winchester makes him feel is more cosmic and divine than anything he could feel looking at his soul - though he's still of the opinion that Dean's soul is one of the few truly beautiful ones his father created. Maybe he's biased, but he can't find it in himself to change his mind.

“What do you think about her?” Dean asks, and that knocks Cas out of his reverie. He traces where Dean’s eyes are looking and they fall on a woman smiling and talking with her friends on the other side of the bar. Short, dark hair, light eyes, wearing a crop top and a tight skirt.

“She’s…very under-dressed for the weather.” Cas answers, pointedly ignoring Dean’s question-under-the-question. It's true, there’s no way she’s very warm in that outfit, and it is coming up on winter.

“Ha, yeah, I think that’s kinda the point, Cas.” Dean counters, eyes still on the woman and not on Cas.

Cas wants to snap back with I know that’s the point, Dean, but decides against it. He doesn’t feel like getting into an argument, but something about Dean wanting to pick up people at the bars they go to always makes him, well, Dean calls it “bitchy” but Cas feels he’s just “irritated”. They have had long and tense arguments about it in the car before that Cas always feels a bit ashamed of post-fight. It’s not Dean’s fault, not like he knows.

“Right, well, wish me luck.” Dean stands and walks away with a wink that does not make Cas’ stomach flip, it does not.

Read the rest here

#yes the title is a cranberries reference let me live in peace about it #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fic #deancas fic #castiel #dean winchester #gina.spn #gina.writing #100+#&fic

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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It's just that, you remember you used to pray to your father. Your absent father. Used to pray to him for purpose, for deliverance, for a sign, for anything - but now the only name that falls from your lips in reverence is his, not your father's. Him, this man. This human. You pulled him from hell, he should pray to you. You're the divine thing, you're holiest of holy (most of the time). And sometimes he does pray to you, but you pray to him too. Pray to him for purpose, for deliverance, for a sign. Only you don't pray on your knees with your hands pressed flat together. You pray with a look. His eyes meeting yours, you pray he understands you. Understands all the words that tie themselves up and die in your throat. He swallows (words like you, or just on instinct?), and your eyes flick down to where his Adam's apple bobs (ironic name for it, is it a sin for you to want to run your lips across it? Is this forbidden too? You're not human, but that would be remarkably human of you. Committing the original sin of pressing your teeth to an apple. This apple not off a tree, but attached to the most righteous, loving man you've ever known). The moment passes, your prayer unheard. Then again, most are.

Later that night, you don't sleep. Because angels can't sleep - but you wish you could. If you could sleep you could dream. You could dream about him, and it wouldn't be real but it would be more solid than the half-guilty, half-hazy fantasies you have in the dead of night when everyone else is asleep, when he's asleep. You could dream he'd hold your hand, or just hold you, or kiss you, or rest his forehead against yours with your back pressed to the side of the kitchen table and your fingers slid through the loops on his jeans. You could dream about feeling the hum of his laugh through your hand splayed on his chest (over his heart), about feeling his breath on your ear. About waking up next to him and curling into his side to shelter from the sunlight creeping across the floor. You could dream a lot of things, but any dream worth dreaming would have to revolve around him. It took you a long time to realize that, even in the short time you were human and could dream. It has to be him. Always was him, really.

You want him. You need him. You love him. It's easy enough to know that. It still knocked all the air out of your lungs the first time you realized it. You're not supposed to want, you're supposed to follow - but when have you ever been any good at doing what you're supposed to do (especially when it comes to him)? Today, he looks at you across the library table. You pray. He swallows. You look down to your book, then back at him before his eyes can tear away from you. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a way you've learned from him means fondness. Prayers often go unheard. Then again, some don't. He reaches his hand across the table and threads his fingers through yours. He's not supposed to, not meant to, you're not meant to be in this story, in this room, holding this man's hand. It's a dream - but you're not dreaming, because you can't - but if you could it'd be this. Always this. You squeeze his hand, and smile back.

[Dean]

#i checked this one trillion times for typos i swear if i find one after i post #also i did stand half out of the shower door for 15 minutes to write this because i was Struck #destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #deancas ficlet #spn #gina.spn #gina.writing #i have stared at this so much over the past 2 days that i am now embarrassed to post it bc i think its bad #but i will post it anyways for the symmetry #100+#&drabble

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

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Advanced Reader Copy

Dean gives Cas a book to read. Or, well, a passage from a book.

(basically, Cas reads a part of Lost and Found)

1.5k

read on ao3

"Hey, Cas, can I talk to you?"

Cas stops in place at Dean's voice, a few feet in front him. They're standing in the middle of the library, where Cas had just been trying to stealthy avoid Dean noticing him walking by.

It's been a little over a week since Dean (with some help from their friends) had pulled Cas out of the Empty. Since then, they've been not-so-obviously/obviously avoiding each other.

The reason being that, basically, they haven't talked about what Cas said. Yet. Maybe they wouldn't ever talk about it. Honestly, Cas would be absolutely fine with that, if it meant he got to keep Dean as a friend. That would be absolutely fine and not at all painfully heartbreaking in any way. Not at all.

Cas nods. "Of course, Dean. What is it?"

Dean shifts on his feet. "It's, well, it's kinda important."

"Okay," Cas says, smiling slightly even though his heart has started to beat erratically in his chest.

"Look, I- shit. This is-" Dean stops himself, and shakes his head as his eyes dart back and forth across the concrete floor. Then he pauses, eyes fallen on one of the shelves, and looks back up at Cas.

"Just gimme a minute, I'll be right back."

Cas squints, "Alright, I'll just-" he starts to say, but Dean's already ran off to some far-flung corner of the bunker — taking whatever he wanted to say and whatever idea he's suddenly had with him.

Cas stares after him, but stays rooted to the spot.

Time passes. It is — possibly — the longest string of minutes Castiel, former Angel of the Lord and current Angel of Absolutely No One (Except, Maybe, the Winchesters), has ever experienced.

After an eternity passes in 10 minutes, Dean walks back into the library. He's carrying a beat-up cardboard box, with a single book resting on top of where the box has been folded closed.

Dean drops the box onto a nearby table, and the old wood creaks under the new weight. Before Cas can see it, Dean quickly grabs the single book off the top and holds it tight to his chest. It's angled in a way that Cas can only make out that it is, in fact, a book; but not anything else about it.

"What are these?" Cas asks, moving the cardboard flaps out of the way to peer into the box.

"Books." Dean answers.

Cas rolls his eyes, "I know they're books, Dean, I mean what-" and Cas finally catches sight of one of the covers.

Carver Edlund.

"Oh," Cas says. "They're, um. Our books, I suppose."

Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah. I guess, uh, I guess Chuck kept writing. Sammy found them when he went to check out Chuck's old place a few weeks back. Looks like the rest of his books never made it into circulation though. I think he just mojo-ed up some printed copies for himself when he finished with 'em, pompous bastard."

Dean's mouth forms a thin line at the thought of Chuck, but wipes it away as quickly as it came. "But anyways, here," Dean holds out the book he was carrying between them. "Take it."

Cas reaches out apprehensively, and pulls the book from Dean's grasp.

"I promise it'll all make sense," Dean insists. "Just, um, flip to the page I have marked."

Cas takes a moment to look over the book before opening it. The paperback is a stark black, contrasted by a stylized funeral pyre adorning the front, which is set at a distance so the majority is taken up but a long trail of smoke curling up until it disappears beyond the edge of the cover. 3 figures are silhouetted by the flames, and they stand apart from each other. Separate. The title reads Lost and Found by Carver Edlund.

Cas opens to where Dean has dog-eared the book only a handful of pages before the end, and reads.

Dean held the lighter close to his chest, almost like he was holding a candle at a vigil. In a way, he was.

Dean had been to a lot of funerals, built a lot of funeral pyres, but something about this one had broken him in a way he wasn't expecting. It broke him in a way he had spent years — decades, really — fighting against.

You see, Dean wasn't the kind of guy. He was a red-blooded, beer-drinking, pool-hustling, bacon-cheeseburger-eating, classic-car-driving, skin-mag-reading American male. Guys like that don't have game-changing feelings for other guys. They just don't.

At least, that's what Dean always told himself.

But standing in front of that pyre, watching the smoke rise, he told himself something different for once. Dean told himself it was all a bunch of bullshit, because he was still all those things he was before, and he wouldn't ever stop being those things no matter what. He was just something else extra, too.

Because Dean would have traded anything in that moment to get Cass back. Would have traded all the cheeseburgers and beer in the world. Would have traded his life. Hell, he would have traded his car if it meant he'd get another chance at this. Another chance with Cass. Just one chance to finally tell him what he'd been too scared all these years to say. Because Cass had always been around, even when he didn't need to be — he was there. But now he wasn't. And Dean wanted more than anything else in the world for him to be there so he could finally say—

"Dean," Cas says, voice wavering. The paragraph cuts off mid-sentence; if he wants to read the rest of it, he'll have to flip to the next page to see. "What is this?"

"Your funeral, after Lucifer killed you."

Cas shakes his head, not quite believing Dean's words, or Chuck's for that matter. Surely this couldn't be, he couldn't really mean—

Dean interrupts Cas' swirling thoughts. "It's Chuck's words, but it's- it's all me. He writes it more flowery than it really was, ya know, up here," Dean taps two fingers to the side of his head, "but it's the truth." He laughs to break the tension, but there's an edge of nerves there. Cas can almost hear his heartbeat across the room. "Don't tell Baby this, but I really would've given her up if it meant getting you back."

Cas shakes his head harder, tears springing loose and dropping onto the page, smudging the ink.

"Dean-"

"Turn the page."

"What's on the next page, Dean?"

"You know what."

"I-"

"Cas, just turn the page."

Cas turns the page with an unsteady hand. It's blank, likely formatted that way for dramatic effect, save for 3 words in the top left corner.

I love you.

Cas makes a choked sound and breathes out in disbelief, in sheer amazement. He runs his fingertips over the letters, traces the shape of them, feels their weight and knows it's heavier in his hands than any cheap paperback ever could be. It feels too much all of a sudden. Like something so remarkable shouldn't be confined to print — like 3 typeset and faded little words shouldn't be enough to shift the core of him so intensely that it makes his whole body ache.

Then, the feeling of hands brushing over his pulls him out of his own head, and he looks up to see Dean (Dean, of course it's Dean, who else would it be? Who else could it ever be but Dean). Dean shifts one hand over Cas' around the spine of the book, and uses the other to push Cas' fingers away from where they rest on the page. He gently pulls the book out of his grip, and sets it on the table next to them. They both stare at it for a long moment, and then Dean is moving his hands back onto Cas, bringing both of them up to cup his face.

Dean looks at him, eyes shining. "I meant it, I mean it. I know I'm not the best at showing it all the time, and I know I should've told you a million times before this, but I really do mean it."

"I know you do." Cas wraps one hand loosely around Dean's wrist, and lets the other dig into his hip; anchoring both of them in place. "I- I mean it too."

"Yeah?"

"Of course."

They smile at each other and rest their foreheads together, just standing there breathing the same air like it's the first time they've let themselves breathe for months.

When they kiss, it's not a storybook. It's not bargain bin horror fiction. It's not a bestseller. It's not scripted, or planned out, or lighted particularly well. It's a kiss. It's a little awkward, a little unpracticed, a little gross through the tears.

What it is, is the promise of another. And another after, and after that, and after and after and after. As many as they want for as long as they want.

Their life isn't a story anymore, not in the way that they're used to. And it's no longer getting written down to be conveniently handed to each other to read whenever they have a hard time expressing their feelings. But, for a time, it was a story. It was their story.

And it was a hell of a story, all things considered.

#its been like. over 2 months since i finished something lmao #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn #gina.spn #gina.writing #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #&fic

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

Text

Okay but Regarding Dean if Cas showed up is just:

Cas, walking in: "Sam? Dean? I'm here."

Sam: "Oh, Cas, perfect. Look I just called Rowena and-"

Dean, cutting in: "You're Cas?"

Cas, worried: "Oh, um. Yes, I am."

Dean: "You're-"

Cas, talking over Dean: "-Your friend."

Dean, heart eyes: "-really pretty."

And Cas' eyes just go 👁>👁 and his face turns completely, completely red.

Cas, stammering: "Oh, I- um. Thank you, Dean."

And Dean like reaches up and starts playing with his hair.

Dean: "I like your hair."

Cas, FLUSTERED: "I- I- thank you, uh...um."

Dean, *wistful sigh*: "Your eyes are really pretty too. They're very blue 🥰"

Cas, whose internal functions are shutting down as we speak: "They're not mine. Excuse me."

And Cas just like. runs out of the room as Dean is still just 🥰🥰😊 "He seems nice I'm happy we're friends" and Cas is hands on his knees hyperventilating in the parking lot.

#mans is easily flustered pray for him #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #destiel #deancas #spn #spn 12x11 #gina.spn #gina.writing #&drabble

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

Text

You Look the Type

Dean and Cas experience a microagresssion (sorta) at the local one star hotel

1.7k words

[ao3]

"Just the one bed, then?"

"Excuse me?"

Dean and Cas are on a case. Alone. Well, not technically alone, since there's two of them, but it feels alone since Sam isn't there. He'd stayed behind at the bunker mumbling something about atrocious filing systems and easy salt and burn and you guys go I'm busy here.

Which is how Dean and Cas find themselves standing in a seedy motel lobby where the guy checking them in just had the balls to ask:

"One bed? For you and your-" the clerk gestures over to Cas. The implication is clear, you and your boyfriend, you and your partner, you and your husband.

Dean stutters, "My, oh. Oh, I- um, I- no. No. We're not uh- we're not," Dean rapidly flaps one hand between the two of them, "we're just, just-"

"Dean's straight." Cas cuts in, pointedly, but with an edge to it that makes Dean's brow furrow and his head turn in Cas' direction. "Now can we get our keys or not?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry for assuming," front desk guy says, looking wide-eyed and embarrassed.

Cas just waves his hand and walks off and out of the lobby.

Dean stands, mouth open and staring at the spot where Cas just was. If this were a few years ago it would almost be reminiscent of the times Cas would fly away mid-conversation. But if this were a few years ago, Dean wouldn't have been flustered enough about it to even be having this conversation (not that he wouldn't have been flustered, but there are certain feelings about a specific someone he'd developed since then that made this hit way too close to something he didn't want to think about). Dean blinks and looks over at the clerk, then immediately does a heel turn and marches off towards Cas, burying his red face in the collar of his jacket.

Cas had already grabbed their bags from the trunk of the Impala and pushed into their room in the time it took Dean's brain to reboot enough to engage in higher functions such as "walking" and "breathing normally" and "not having a face comparable to an over-ripe tomato".

Dean slots his key into the door and turns it, willing his heartbeat to slow the fuck down, please. He opens the door and is met with Cas standing next to one of the beds hastily taking his shirts out of his duffle bag and throwing them down with a rustle and a soft thud, one on top of the other. They'd finally gotten Cas to start switching up his outfit every now and again, so at least he's stress unpacking his own clothes and not Dean's (which really isn't so far out of the realm of possibility for him).

Cas moves with an urgency and an energy that tells Dean he definitely should not, under any circumstances, open his mouth and say a single word for at least the next hour. Maybe even for the rest of the night.

Dean, never being one to take a hint, opens his mouth anyway.

"Cas, hey," Dean rubs his hand over the back of his neck jesus, man, when'd I become such a wimp around him? I'm acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, get it together. "Uh, about that, it happens sometimes. Not a big deal. People are just, I dunno, they like to act like they know something about you when they really have no idea. Don't let it bother you."

Cas throws another shirt on the bed, "I'm not bothered by it."

"Really? 'Cause I think your clothes would disagree," Dean gestures to the pile of now wrinkled shirts on Cas' bed. Cas arches an eyebrow at them, like he's only just realized what he'd been doing. He tosses the pair of pants already in his hands onto the shirts and walks in a huff in Dean's direction. Dean's heart jumps into his throat before he realizes Cas isn't moving toward him, but toward the door behind him.

"Cas, wait," Dean grabs Cas' elbow when he tries to brush past him. Cas' hand stills outstretched on the doorknob in front of him, stopping at the touch even though he could easily shrug Dean off. That's become a staple of their relationship - Cas letting Dean do things to him he'd refuse outright on principle from anyone else. He angles his head at Dean but, uncharacteristically, doesn't meet his eye.

Dean stows his crap, takes a chance, and asks, "Just now, why'd you say- you said Dean's straight." He winces slightly at the awkwardness of referring to himself in 3rd person, but that hardly cracks the top 10 most awkward moments of the whole last 15 minutes.

"Because you are." Cas answers simply, even though he knows it doesn't exactly get at Dean's point.

"Right." Dean swallows down the urge to correct him with an actually, funny thing is, I don't really think I am. "But you could've just said, you know, we're straight. But you said I am - specifically. Why is that?"

"Dean," Cas says, in a tone that should be accompanied by an eyeroll, but one look at his actual expression betrays a bone deep worry that he isn't able to mask. "Do I really need to answer that question? Can't you figure that out for yourself?"

"I'd like for you to tell me instead of me assuming and getting it wrong."

Cas sighs and drops his hand from the doorknob.

"What would you like me to say, Dean?" Cas says as he walks over to sit on the edge of his bed, nudging the clothes pile over. "That I'm gay? I could say that, but I'm an angel. We're different from humans. I'm different from you." Cas says that last sentence in a way that suggests there's more wrapped up in it beyond angel vs. human perspectives on sexuality. But they don't really have time to get into all that at the moment.

Dean plops down next to Cas on the bed, and the old springs creak under the added weight. "Yeah, I know angels are different or whatever, but it's just- you've never shown any um, interest in dudes. Not that I've seen at least. I mean, Cas, if I would've known I wouldn't have been trying to set you up with chicks all these years. No wonder you didn't ever really seem into them," Dean lets out a small laugh, "thought you were just shy."

"Yeah, well, that too," Cas adds, with less worry creased into the lines on his face and a bit more levity. He's finally looking over at Dean now, but he's got a vulnerable look in his eyes that almost makes Dean wish he was still looking away.

"But Dean, I- that's not exactly accurate."

Dean's heart rate picks up again, traitor, "What do you mean?"

Still vulnerable, and back to looking worried too, Cas says, "I have shown interest in "dudes", as you put it, though you are right to say you haven't noticed it."

Dean's heart is full on slamming against his ribcage now, and in his hysterics his mind briefly flashes to the case they worked where a guy's heart literally beat out of his chest. He hopes there aren't any psychic Looney Tunes fans in a 15 miles radius, or this will be an embarrassing death experience to explain to Sam later.

Dean puts on some of his battle worn false confidence, "Yeah? Who's the lucky guy?"

Cas tilts his head and smirks, "Would you like me to tell you, or would you like to assume?"

"Tell me?"

Cas opens his mouth but stops short and looks down, weaving his fingers together and focusing on his stretched palms in his lap.

"Cas?"

"Promise you won't be angry with me?"

The way Cas says that makes Dean's heart ache. Like he's expecting Dean to be angry with him, even if he promises not to be.

"I'd never be angry with you."

Cas huffs out a weary laugh, "Well, we both know that's not true."

Dean's heart aches again, practically just shatters into pieces. Because Cas is right. Dean can't promise he won't ever be mad at Cas ever again (even though he wishes he could), but he can promise this. He can promise he won't be mad about this.

Dean leans down slightly until he's able to catch Cas' eye so he'll look at him again, "I promise not to be angry." Hold on, that's way too earnest. He quickly adds, "Even if it's Sam. Though, I'd probably question your taste in men. I know he's tall, Cas, but there's better fish in the sea, okay? Trust me."

Cas smiles faintly and shakes his head, "It's not Sam."

"Good choice."

Cas takes a nervous breath out, "You. It's you."

You.

"Me?"

Me.

"Yes."

Oh shit.

"Dean, it's alright, I know you don't-"

Dean, on adrenaline fueled oh my god he likes me he likes me wait- does he love me? Holy shit what if he loves me autopilot, crashes him lips into Cas'. Once his brain catches up with his body, Dean pulls back.

"I- Dean-"

"Sorry, sorry, that was-"

"I thought you didn't-"

"I shouldn't have- I should've asked-"

"But I thought you were-"

"Now who's assuming?"

They stop and look at each other rather than continue their litany of unnecessary apologies. One breath, two, three, four.

Then they both burst out laughing.

Dean reaches forward and puts a hand on Cas' knee to stabilize himself, and Cas lifts his right hand up to fit against Dean's shoulder. They both fold hard into each other until the laughter dies down, and when it does Cas moves his free hand to cup the line of Dean's jaw. Dean closes his eyes and leans into it.

"So," Cas hums, "not straight, then?"

Dean smiles, "No, no definitely not." And, just for fun (and just to make absolutely sure), "You?"

Cas drops forward until his forehead rests against Dean's, "No, definitely not."

After the case, they stop at a different motel on the way back. Only this time they don't correct the clerk when they ask if they'll be sharing just the one bed.

#they refused to let dean and cas experience microagresssions in the same state as one another #because this is EXACTLY what would've happen ive Decided #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #deancas fanfic #spn #gina.spn #gina.writing #&fic

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

Text

Currently imagining the alternate good s9 human!cas arc where he lives in the bunker with everyone and one night Dean wakes up and hears shouting from Cas' room next door (because of course Cas picked the room directly next the Dean's) and he jumps out of bed to go check on him with his gun in his hands but when he opens the door Cas is just thrashing violently on the bed and clearly having a night terror.

So Dean sets his gun down on the dresser and goes and gently wakes Cas up (ignoring the whimpers that sound vaguely like "Dean, be careful, Dean, Dean"). And Cas sits up panicking but Dean just shushs him and rubs circles into his back while Cas slows his breathing down. Then Dean says "here, scootch over" and slides into the bed next to Cas, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him down so he rests his head on Dean's chest. And then Cas just says "Dean, why are you doing this?" Which Dean takes a second to think about, running his fingers through Cas' hair, then says "Because when I had my first nightmare, I wish someone would've held me after."

So it becomes a habit that they end up in each other's rooms a lot after that when they have particularly bad nightmares, so much of a habit that most nights they're sharing a bed - even if there is a distinct absence of nightmares.

#okay i can no longer procrastinate my mountain of overdue english assignments #its been nice knowing you all but unfortunately i need to go do those for the next 48+ hours. pray to your gods for me pls #destiel #deancas #spn #spn s9 #gina.spn #gina.writing #destiel ficlet #&drabble

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

Text

Castiel prays, circa the (first) apocalypse

#noooo dont write fan poetry for spn youre so sexy ahaha #i say like i havent written fan poetry for spn before and will again #destiel #castiel #spn #gina.spn #gina.writing #&poem

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

Text

notes in the margins

(ID under the cut)

[image ID/ White text on a black background. The text reads:

I am thinking about

grass,

and my hand in yours.

a sun that brands technicolor spots between blinks,

when I look too long at it.

(question: are you a metaphor for the sun in my eyes?)

I am thinking about

waves,

and your hand on my hip.

a current that draws me under, and

leaves me dizzy and gasping.

(question: are the waves a metaphor for sex, or love? If I asked, would you give me either?)

I am thinking about

coffee,

and the way your fingers brush mine when you hand a cup to me.

you are always so warm,

and I want to reach out—

(question: how many times can I mention your hands before it becomes symbolic?

How many times can you be repeated in the diary of my life before you're a motif in my faded pages?)

I am thinking about

sunrises,

and yes, I know, I've already compared you to the sun.

but I am thinking about it regardless.

beautiful and fleeting, I hope to see you tomorrow.

(question: am I in orbit around you, or am I breaking apart in the heat of your atmosphere? How long do I have left before I've burned away entirely? Do I care?)

I am thinking in dreams

small fantasies,

a theoretical forever kaleidoscoping behind my too heavy eyelids.

a thousand different stories of yous that love me back,

unfinished.

(question: if I love these almost-yous hard enough, will the you-you feel it too?)

(question: if I gave you my heart, would you want it?)

(question: darling, can you proofread my work? Did I get it right? Is it enough for something like this, someone like you?)

(question: am I enough for someone like you?)

(desire: just once, please start and don't stop. Love me back.)

/End ID]

#wrote this thinking about cas but also about me #castiel #destiel #spn #spn poetry #destiel poetry #poetry #gina.spn #gina.writing #&poem

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omniscientoranges · 3 years

Text

Get the Words Out

Dean tells Cas about John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, a boy, a crappy motel room, and the one thing he wants.

Trigger Warning - Homophobia (both internalized and said out loud)

1.9k words

[ao3]

(this is somewhat inspired by all the john’s journal posting that is like, sending me)

It's after. After all of it. After the empty, after the tearful hugs, after relieved hellos, after words still left unsaid, after the goodnights and I'll see you in the mornings. Just, after. It's only Dean and Cas sitting at the bunker's kitchen table now, and Cas gets up to walk to his room without a word (because he thinks he's been playing it off pretty well but really he's scared out of his mind to be alone with Dean, scared for the other shoe to drop). Dean gets up too, and Cas' heart flips when he realizes Dean is following him down the hallway.

"Hey, hey, Cas, wait. Hold on a second," Dean asks, reaching out to pull on Cas' arm to get him to turn, but his hand stops short and only hovers. Somehow, that stings more than anything, the almost contact. Cas puts on a brave face and turns to Dean regardless.

"Yes, what do you want, Dean?"

Dean looks conflicted, then sighs and opens the door to his room (when did they get so far down the hallway?) and moves to sit down on the edge of his bed.

"Cas could you uh, could you come here?" Dean pats the space on the bed next to him and gives Cas a tight smile. Cas looks wary, but he still trusts Dean with anything, everything, so he closes the door behind him and sits.

"I gotta tell you something, okay? And it might, it might not be exactly what you're expecting to hear but it's-" Dean cuts himself off and looks down at his shoes. "I gotta say it first, before I can say anything else, alright? I just, I gotta tell you this first."

Cas nods easily and fixes his eyes on Dean's face, "Alright, I'm listening."

Dean nods once, short, and starts, "One time, um, dad dumped us- me and Sam- in Connecticut for a few months. I think Sammy was maybe, I dunno, twelve? And we stayed at this hotel with a heater that kept breaking down and a bad lock on the door."

Cas nods again and gets a painfully soft look in his eyes that Dean can't look at, not quite yet. Cas wants to ask what does a crappy hotel room in Connecticut have to do with anything, Dean? But he sees the fraught expression Dean's wearing and decides that, whatever it is, Dean's got a damn good reason to make the connection. So, like he said he would, Cas listens.

"Right and uh," Dean swallows hard, keeps his eyes trained on the floor, swallows again, and says, "There was this guy I knew that came around the room sometimes. He- you know I, I don't even remember his name." Dean huffs out a laugh over the lump in his throat to try and break the tension, but it just ends up making the tears he's been holding back for so, so long inch closer to the edge of his eyes.

"But he had- he had this really cool car. I think it was a 71' Challenger. Bright red, fast as anything. But I'm kinda gettin' ahead of myself,'' Dean looks up from the floor and straight at the wall, but he isn't looking at the wall, not really. He's remembering a car, and a boy, and distantly, the worst night of his life. Gettin' ahead of myself again, where was I? Right.

"Before that, when we got to school there the first day, I walked into whatever class I was stuck in at 8am and sat in the back because, ya know, we never hung around long so I didn't plan on learning much anyways. Didn't plan on making any friends either but, well," Dean actually smiles a bit at this. This part of the memory is fonder, afterall. "So I'm leaned back in my chair with my feet propped up on the desk getting the stink eye from the teacher already and this guy next to me he just, he just says hi to me, and he introduces himself and for some reason, I dunno I just- I just start talking to him. And he was nice and funny as hell so I decided 'yeah, yeah maybe I can have a friend. Just this once.'" Dean shakes his head, and Cas knows that's the head shake that means you idiot, what were you thinking, don't you know you don't ever get nice things?

"So he started coming around the room, right? And usually we'd just sit and watch old westerns or whatever crap was on public access and bitch about school or life or something, but um, one night-" Dean stops looking anywhere, and closes his eyes before he continues. "One night, Sam was at the library I think, doing nerd stuff and, and the guy was over and we just- we were just sitting at the end of the bed watching tv. And then he-" Dean screws his eyes shut tighter and hot tears spill out of the corners, "He just- he just leans over and kisses me. And it takes me a second and then I just, I push him off of me and I say 'what the hell do you think you're doing, you know I'm not that kinda guy I don't swing that way,' just all the- all the usual crap. And we just look at each other for a second before he pulls me in and kisses me again and I-" Dean balls his fists in the rough fabric of his jeans and doesn't even try to stop crying, doesn't think he could stop crying at this point. He takes a sharp, deep breath in because he knows the next few words are going to knock all the air out of his lungs.

"Cas, I- I kissed him back. I kissed him back because I wanted to, because I wanted to kiss him and I didn't care that he wasn't a girl, it didn't matter, I don't think it ever mattered. And then he starts to take off my shirt and then, well, you can probably uh, see where that leads. But- but the thing is that, it didn't lead there because-" Dean chokes down a harsh sob because he has to say it he has to get the words out because it feels like if he doesn't they'll rip through his chest like knives or like claws or like bullets. As it were, the next words weren't sharp or jagged, they were hollow and whispered, "He wasn't supposed to come back that night. He was supposed to be gone another week on a hunt he- he wasn't supposed to come back."

Cas feels his blood run cold in a way it never quite had before, but it feels all too familiar just the same.

Dean, eyes half open through the tears, keeps talking, "And he walked in and he was so, Cas, he was so mad you- I'd never seen him so mad before. And he wasn't, um, he wasn't scream and throw things and throw you mad, he was ice cold, dead silent mad. And the guy knew what was happening so he got his clothes and he left right away and when the door closed dad he- he just looked at me. And I'd never seen him look at me like that like he-" Dean finally lets a broken sob dig it's way out of his throat as he feels the tears from his face drip onto his forearms, "He looked so disgusted with me, like he was disgusted that I was his son. And he stared me dead in eye and said- he said 'boy, I ain't- I ain't gonna-" Dean brings his tear christened forearm up to his eyes to wipe away fresh tears, and he's almost too distraught to speak now, but he has to finish the sentence. Needs to, because he's never told anyone this, never wants to again, so he has to say it all now.

"He looks at me and he says 'boy, I ain't gonna raise no queer son. You understand me?' and I said,'' Dean's posture straightens a bit, an echo from that moment, "'yes, sir, I understand' and he nodded at me and walked out of the room." Cas wants to reach out to comfort him, to fix something for him for once, but he knows this is a hurt that can't really be fixed.

Dean takes a long breath out, "And then we left the next day. Never came back and, I never saw that guy again. But dad, he looked at me different after that, treated me different. Worse. He sent me on my first solo case a few months later but I- I think he just wanted to get rid of me. Like he couldn't bear to look at me, look at what I was. There weren't any more guys after that. Even after dad died I still couldn't- couldn't bring myself to do that, even though I still wanted to I just. I couldn't."

Cas feels a tear roll down the side of his face, and he realizes he was so focused on hearing every word Dean was saying he didn't notice he had started crying too. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and says, "Dean, you know tha-"

"I'm not finished yet, Cas. Please, just- just let me finish, okay?"

"Okay. Okay, Dean."

"What I'm trying to say is, I wanted there to be other guys, but I never wanted another guy more I wanted- more than I wanted you, Cas." Dean finally looks up to meet Cas' eye.

"I wanted, want you more than I've ever wanted anything else, and I guess, hell, I guess you do too." Dean laughs a bit in disbelief, and reaches, timidly, for Cas' hand where it sits between them. Cas thinks, since when has Dean Winchester ever been timid about anything? That is, he thinks that up until the moment Dean's fingers wrap around his palm and then all he can think is Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean. Cas looks from their loosely intertwined hands up to Dean's face, back to their hands, back up to Dean's face, back to their hands again, then, finally, landing and staying on Dean's face. Dean's still crying, but he's also smiling and not for the first time Cas finds him so, so beautiful. Cas smiles too, and if he were in Dean's head he'd know that Dean finds him beautiful too, always has actually.

"Dean, can I talk now?" Cas asks, half serious and half teasing.

Dean teases back, "Depends, what do you wanna say?"

Cas brings his free hand up to rest on Dean's cheek, "I want to say, that despite what your father might have believed, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. And, Dean, even if there was, well," Cas' smile widens and he leans closer to Dean, "I'll still love you, always."

Dean looks relieved at that, like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders his whole life and only now did someone finally tell him it's okay, Atlas, you can put it down now.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean breathes, and leans forward to close a gap he hasn't closed since he was a teenager. Cas meets Dean in the middle and closes that same gap for the first time in his long, long life.

When they finally pull apart it's only slightly, still resting their foreheads together. Cas pulls back a little further and tilts his head a bit to the side. Slowly, he moves his hand up to push off Dean's jacket.

This time, it does lead there, later.

#i am posting this at 3am lmao #rough night #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancs fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #j*hn winchester #spn #gina.spn #my writing tag #homophobia tw #(had this idea post 15.18 pre 15.20 and the j*hnposting reminded me of it)#gina.writing #&fic

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