#listen cas just wants to feel useful and maybe this way he can speak dean's language

[therewasatale]

But are you happy?

On Ao3

Summary: Castiel pays a visit in Dean's dream - the only safe place he knows.

Based on prompt.

His breathing slowed down, his mind sank into the sweet darkness, and finally his body felt so much lighter.

When he opened his eyes, he was facing a river. A beer in his hand, a table on his left side. A fishing pool was waiting, the cork gently rocking with each tiny wave.

He knew this place. He was here before.

The air brought the smell of freshly cooked steak and pie.

He was sitting in a chair, his legs comfortable, at last his chest didn't feel heavy.

"You're content." A familiar voice said next to him.

When Dean glanced up, he was looking right into Castiel's eyes. The angel watched him, like he always did since he dragged him out from hell. Protected him, watched over him, and even rebelled for him.

"But are you happy?"

Dean felt the weight of the question, maybe he didn't want to bring up the memories, but they were there nonetheless. Waiting in the back of his head, deep inside that dark river.

"People like me don't get happiness, Cas. This is the best I'm going to get. This is safe, and that is more than enough." He was living a peaceful life; one Sam would have wanted him to live.

The angel turned his gaze away, his eyes focused on the cork.

"What about you? Are you happy?"

There wasn't any answer.

"Cas, why are you here?" Dean stood up, when he glanced at the chair it has already disappeared. "Why are we talking in my dreams? Something happened?"

As he put his hand on the angel's shoulder, he looked up at him.

"No, nothing happened, Dean. I just wanted to get away from everything, from heaven, and Earth."

"So, you came into my dreams?" It was supposed to be a joke, yet something deep inside him wanted to have an answer. To him being that answer.

"It's safe here, and no one can listen."

The wind rose again, and the chill made him flinch. No one?

"Well, you can stay here as long as you want, at least this way I won't get any nightmares." He wanted to drink from the bottle, but just like the chair or the table, it too vanished into thin air. "And lucky for you, you don't have to deal with dreams either - they can be very annoying."

Cas took an unsure step closer to him, and again just looked at him with clear but still uncertain eyes. Ever since he has chosen to help the Winchester brothers, that wondering light remained.

The silence became unbearable.

He was too close.

"What's wrong, Cas?" Dean had to tore his eyes away from his.

"But what would make you happy?"

A bitter chuckle left his lips. His first thought was: nothing. What a sad soul could say such a thing; what kind of person would provide that answer for a question like that? But it was the truth, wasn't it?

"Well, if my brother would be out from the cage, not being locked up with the Devil, and another psychopathic archangel who God's know what he does to him right now. Firstly, that would be really-really nice." Bitterness poisoned his every word. "Maybe that Bobby shouldn’t have to try to figure out how to get his soul back from a demon. Or that I could do anything to help anyone."

This wasn't good, he bit back the words. He couldn't let himself speak those words, or feel those thoughts.

"Dean..." Castiel stood right in front of him.

"It's all right, just-, let's just forget about it. I've learned not to wait for happiness, it won't happen with us."

"I'm sorry-"

"Yeah, well everyone is. Or was. Just forget about it, Cas." His eyes met with the angel's. Gentle caring and worry, and again, hesitation.

 "I'm sorry, if there is anything I can do." He put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I will always come when you call, Dean."

When he blinked, his back was against a wall.

They were standing in a motel, it didn't matter which one, but they were in a dark room, alone. And in that darkness his chest felt tight as his heart started to hammer against it.

This dream felt too familiar. He shouldn't let Castiel knew about this dream.

However, in here, his feelings were stronger than his logical side.

He grabbed the angel's coat and pulled him closer.

In most of his dreams the angel moved first, he would take the first step.

Their nose brushed against each other.

Dean's heart skipped a beat, but then his mind was filled with the kiss. It was careful and tender. It didn't last long, but it wasn't the only kiss they shared.

In his dreams Cas would try to step away, to protest that it wasn't right. But the real angel just put his arms around his waist and pulled him closer.

Embarrassed warmth spread under Dean's eyes, yet he couldn't pull away.

In most of his dreams the angel would become rougher, pushing and pulling him in any way he wanted. But the real Castiel drew small circles on his back with his thumbs, and kissed him like he was tasting something really sweat and delicate.

Dean, while wanted to be devoured, and wished to be used, he trembled under the angel's every touch. Being cared for, and letting someone hold him this way, this was the first time he experienced something like that. And he didn't understand why he felt this way.

Why he felt like this for the angel?

His legs were about to give in, and his chest felt like it will burst open, but he didn't want to pull away. He didn't want to leave this dream, this moment.

His fingers grasped into Castiel's coat, and let himself being pushed against the wall even more.

The hunger inside his stomach started to grow.

"Cas-" his voice cracked.

The angel stopped and pulled away.

"What-?" Dean fought for his every breath, gasping.

Castiel was looking into his eyes, he wanted to pull the angel closer, or just being pulled closer by him. His hand clung into him, but he was stopped.

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

"What? Wait! No, you can't-" a tiny kiss made him silent, and then he found himself alone in the darkness again. His lips still felt soft, yet his insides turned cold.

He blinked, and blinked once again.

The morning light was barely able to seep into the room. The soft sheets clung onto him, coiling around his waist and legs.

Somewhere in the neighbourhood a dog started to bark.

"Good morning," Lisa smiled at him.

"Oh, hey, morning," he returned the smile, and rubbed his eyes trying to hide the emptiness in himself.

"You were talking in your sleep."

"Really? Uh, sorry to wake you up." A heavy grip in his chest froze him up.  

"No, don't worry. You said something like cas?" She sat up next to him and slowly got out from the bed. "Should I worry that you start sleepwalking in the house? We should let Ben know, before he freaks out to see you in the kitchen in the middle of the night." She chuckled warmly, and any other time this would have warmed his soul too.

However, he was only able to put up a fake-smile, and hoped that it was as close to honest as he was able to fake. "No, don't need, it was probably some kind of weird, messy dream. I don't even remember most of it." He had to lick his lips as he tried to swallow.

"All right then, I'm going to go and make some breakfast."

"I'll join in 10 minutes, I'm just gonna take a shower."

"Go ahead."

The bedroom's door closed with a soft click. As the sound of her footsteps became quieter, Dean was finally able to let out a deep sigh. His eyes focused on the ceiling, as he tried to wait for his heart to calm down again and the pain to fade.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #castiel #castiel spn #castiel supernatural #dean winchester #deancas #destiel #copper

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

Suptober 24 Oct.: Fish

"I'm starting to forget. What it was like," Cas said quietly. Dean opened one eye and squinted at him. "To be an angel," Cas explained.

deancas, s9 au + human cas

"When was the last time you dangled your feet in such water, Cas?" Dean asked.

"Never," Cas said, grimacing.

"Refreshing." Dean grinned at him. "Okay, you have to– The little minnows in there aren't going to bite off your toes, man. Though there's some kinda spa around Cincinnati that uses fish to nibble the dead skin off your feet during pedicures. Get this, the facility's right between an aquarium and a seafood restaurant." Dean watched Cas patting the surface of the water with the soles of his feet like the lake was lava. "All right, you can put your boots back on now."

Cas yanked his feet back up to the edge of the boardwalk. "Thank you." He gave Dean a half-embarrassed look. "I'll wait until they're dry before I put my socks back on."

Thankfully, the 80-degree weather made that more than reasonable. Less reasonable was the goofy gooey feeling Dean experienced in the presence of Cas's bare ankles, like Dean was a vestigial virgin in some kinda ridiculously quaint romance. To avoid examining this feeling further, Dean flopped back on the boardwalk and kicked at the water with his own feet. As he stared up at slowly drifting clouds, a breath of peace washed over him – for about nine seconds, until a flock of Canada geese started honking their way out onto the middle of the lake, splashing and fussing like a bunch of rowdy kids at the pool.

"Velociraptors," he said.

"I think I remember those," Cas said. "Of course we didn't call them that then."

"Sure." 

Dean basked in the last rays of sunlight before the clouds grew too thick, and a few minutes passed in silence save the sounds of nature all around: the geese settling scores, water lapping at the shoreline, a last lone cicada screaming for a mate, crispy leaf-litter being turned to confetti as squirrels dashed through it searching for acorns.

"I'm starting to forget. What it was like," Cas said quietly. Dean opened one eye and squinted at him. "To be an angel," Cas explained.

Cas had tucked up his feet crisscross-applesauce and was gazing out across the water. He didn't seem disturbed, but he also didn't seem ecstatic. 

Dean sat up and pulled his feet up to the boardwalk. "That must be, um. Strange." Cas glanced at him for a second and Dean thought he saw a rueful smile dash across his mouth. "Maybe even a little frightening."

He hoped Cas heard, If you want to talk, I want to listen.

"I read an article a while ago about schools of fish," Cas said. "Scientists think one fish moves, then another moves, then another moves – it looks simultaneous but it's more like a chain reaction, individual movements to create coordination so none of the fish collide." He looked at his hands. "I think the heavenly host was like that for a long time, except when it wasn't." He wiped his eye with his knuckle. "When I wasn't."

"Seems to me," Dean said, using as careful a tone as he could, "that you being your own angel, so to speak? Has usually been a good thing." He waited until Cas looked at him again. "Or at least, I'm awfully glad you've decided to make your own decisions for your own reasons."

"I tried to be God for a while," Cas pointed out. "That went badly."

"Yeah, but whomst amongst us hasn't overreached on the career ambition front." Dean shrugged.

"You haven't." 

"I've been workin' on other things, like my winning personality and ability to gank demons." 

Cas almost cracked a real smile and Dean wanted to gloat about it. 

"It'd be normal, just for the record, if you missed being with your family, you know." Dean scooted just a little closer to Cas.

Cas's expression softened as he looked at Dean. "I know." He started putting on his socks. "I doubt they miss me, though."

"Well, I'd miss you if you weren't around," Dean's mouth said before his brain gave it express permission to. Somehow he kept going by adding, "I have missed you, in fact, when you were upstairs or three steps ahead of me and Benny in purgatory or even when you've had bigger fish to fry here on earth. No pun intended."

Boy, that October sun was something else, making his face all pink.

…Oh. Still cloudy.

In the milder light, Cas's eyes were as blue as the lake, but much warmer. Dean knew he was supposed to look away; choosing to look at Cas's mouth instead was a mistake. He edged closer. And closer.

"Guys, the ranger's meeting us on the other side of the park in twenty," Sam called out from the narrow parking lot at the top of the boardwalk. "Put your shoes on and let's go."

"I am going to murder him," Dean muttered under this breath, to which Cas replied, "Hmm?"

"Nothing." Dean yelled back to Sam, "All right, keep your shirt on."

He hauled himself to his newly rebooted feet and slapped a smattering of sand off of his butt. Cas took the lead going up the boardwalk. After a few seconds he glanced back and slowed down. He and Dean reached the parking lot at the same time. Sam was already in the passenger's seat, talking on his phone again and scribbling notes on a torn pizza box lid.

"We should come back and go fishing sometime," Cas said. "If you wanted to." His gaze dipped to Dean's mouth briefly.

"I want to," Dean said; maybe it was an answer to two things, really. 

They smiled small and private smiles at each other, and got in the car.

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

[mlobsters]

supernatural s14e10 nihilism (w. steve yockey)

was thinking about this yesterday, how crowley popped in to cas when lucifer had him locked up, and how they might try to manage something like that for dean

is that pam?? ugh i really liked her. wish she could have stuck around. weird how hrm. having feelings about this idea that sam and dean could even have something like this bar. like, an established place for them that wasn't underground in this weird sterile bougie bunker, but something that actually fits them. be up and around people, even if they're still hunting. so is this supposed to be like the djinn format, where it's taking his dream and trapping him?

DEAN How come you always have a boyfriend? PAMELA How come you only want what you can't have? DEAN Whoa. PAMELA Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

cute and legit

the unfortunate monster teeth on this vampire made it so it's very obviously adr'd in when he's talking. maybe go back to just the occasional flashing of fangs with cg, guys 🥴

SAM Billie -- uh, uh, Death assigned a reaper to keep an eye on Dean and me. Her name is Jessica, and she is always -- WOMAN Hello. SAM Where's Jessica? WOMAN Well, my name's Violet. It's my shift. We have shifts now, because you mess up so, so many things.

cute and legit x2

SAM Okay, look, sorry, but we're stuck, okay? And Death owes us one after we fixed that whole Rowena thing. You know about that, right? VIOLET Oh, yes, the Rowena thing you started.

not sure i know about it though (have to consult the wiki) :S oh god, right. when rowena was trying to get crowley back. the great characterization flip flops of crowley, rowena and ketch

SAM Okay, listen. Back when Gadreel possessed me, he -- he created, uh, I don't know, like a -- like a fake world inside my head. But Crowley was able to force his way in, he showed me how to take control, and I drove the angel out.

oh, wait. did crowley do that twice? apparently so. i very distinctly remembered cas watching tv while crowley was trying to get him to cooperate lol. forgot he got in there for gadreel too

MICHAEL Yes, uh, put a chair against the door. That'll help. Nothing's changed. Either my monsters get here, or I break these chains. But tonight...everybody dies. And, Sam? The last thing you'll see is this pretty smile...as I rip you apart.

he's giving me keanu vibes again with his speaking voice/cadence as michael

SAM It's the, uh, messed up British Men of Letters thing they used to get inside people's heads. I figure if I can get in, maybe I can wake Dean up, get him to fight, you know, to force Michael out.

we're just gonna bring up a million things i have basically zero recollection of. ah yes, the thing that enabled the conversation with brainwashed-mary where dean told her that he had to be sam's mother, father, and brother. the conversation, i remember. context? nada

well i was asking where all the apocalypse world people and there they are. not sure why they're putting maggie at point of this operation but okay. we don't know anyone else and jim beaver isn't in this episode? lol

michael's daddy issues putting everyone's to shame. burn the multiverse to the ground

CASTIEL So much trauma in Dean's mind. So many scars. SAM Well, yeah. Dean's been through a lot, but he's strong. CASTIEL Sam...you've both been through a lot, and Dean is more than strong. What I meant was, if I knew...if I knew what I was looking for, I could just -- I could simply go to it. But because Michael has Dean trapped away, drowning, I have to wade through all of Dean's most terrible memories. SAM Cass, wait a second. Would Michael bury Dean in trauma? CASTIEL What do you mean? SAM I mean, Michael said it himself. The reason he left Dean in the first place was because Dean was fighting back so hard. CASTIEL So, if Michael wanted to keep Dean placated... SAM Dean thrives on trauma. I mean, he's had to his whole life, right? It keeps him alert, keeps him ready, but if I wanted to distract Dean, I-I... I'd give him something he's never had before. CASTIEL Contentment.

haha 🥲

this browsing through dean's traumatic and good memories, someone very nicely has them identified to episodes on the wiki

MICHAEL You don't mean that, Dean, not really. You may lie to them, but, deep down, I know you. I am you. You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he "gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." Or whatever. But since then, what has he done? Only made mistakes, one after the other.

he kind of mocked cas's voice there and it's funny to me how he couldn't really pull it off in the way like.. if pellegrino did that line, totally would have worked. but to me, jackles's michael it just wasn't really hitting the right note :p

MICHEL And, Sam -- oh, Sam... You know, Dean was his happiest when you quit hunting, leaving him with your dad, just the two of them. See, deep down, he knows that you will always abandon him, again and again.

feels like it's been a long time since we thought about dean's insecurity over sam leaving. maybe like when sam found out about gadreel? i dunno. anyway. obviously just trying to get a rise out of him but i think these days they're pretty secure with each other in that respect.

glad they clarified via lecture from cas that jack used the soul magic to invoke the angel powers to zap the monsters because i didn't get that

locking michael in the fridge in your mind is going well i see

well of all the rehabbed characters, i'm glad for billie. since her hatred of them never really made much sense anyway

DEAN Rescuing Mom and Jack, helping out those other folks -- I'd say it was worth it. BILLIE And just look at you now. Do you remember visiting my reading room? The shelves and shelves of notebooks describing the ways you might die? DEAN Yeah. Upbeat classics. BILLIE Well, it's the funniest thing, but they've all been rewritten. They all end the same way now -- with the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world. DEAN All of them? BILLIE All of them. Except one.

is it a picture of rebar. is it some suicidal bullshit? hmm. get stabbed by lucifer wielding the archangel blade?

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 14x10 #steve yockey

[antigonewinchester]

12x11 I enjoyed this ep although I can see if it might seem too silly to some. The beginning is a fun twist on the “exposition to get the audience up to speed on the case” opening for many eps. Dean having memory problems makes the exposition natural, we know that Dean was hit by a spell so something is up, and then we get to the “Who’s Dean?” and it’s Oh Shit. The eventual turn towards the dramatic was fun—Jensen must’ve had a great time getting to act silly and then the emotional slap of Dean’s monologue at the mirror, trying to remember who he is but failing.

The “Dean as a killer” thread is very blatant this season. I’ve been hesitant about it, because I’ve seen a not insignificant amount of fandom meta that takes the worst, most uncharitable interpretation of this idea / Dean’s characterization. But so far I don’t think the show supports such an uncharitable read, tbh. For instance, I didn’t realize it’s not just Dean who gets framed as a killer, but Mary too. The link between being a hunter / killer, both Mary and Dean framed as diving into hunting instead of dealing w/ their feelings, being drawn to the violence and thrill of hunting in that way, that’s all wrapped up in the “X as a killer” theme. I mentioned “Dean as a killer” as being about Dean as a soldier back w/ my Mark of Cain meta, and that read still works in this season, in both Dean and Mary being soldiers and the tragedy of them being raised as child hunters (although that tragedy is definitely under-emphasized as compared to early seasons). Sam is framed in contrast, with his maybe wanting a life after hunting and that being something Dean and Mary don’t expect at all. There was Sam and Dean’s convo from 12x06 around dying on a hunt being “the best way to go” against Sam’s questioning, or the 12x11 “DEAN: Huh. Well, look, was it nice to drop our baggage? Yeah, maybe. Hell, probably. But it wasn't just the crap that got lost. I mean, it was everything. It was us, it was what we do, you know? All of it. So... that's what being happy looks like? I think I'll pass.” which reminded me of Mary’s comment in the next ep: “SAM: Wait, Mom? Uh... I just wanted to make sure that, um... you’re okay. I mean, I know... you never really wanted this. / MARY: Since when is life about getting what you want?”

speaking of 12x12, the structure of this ep was a nice change of pace. “Everything’s going to be fine” CUT TO everything not being fine. Bringing back Yellow-Eyed Demons… makes sense, in terms of Mary’s character and her trauma. And as an “oh shit, Mary got the group into something that hurt them without their knowledge” and how it calls back to Azazel, the original Yellow Eyes, Mary’s deal w/ him being the spark that lit the doomed fire that burned through the rest of the family…

Also my question of if they were writing Cas as in love with Dean as of S12… Cas’s little monologue when he thinks he’s going to die and wants everyone to run (CAS: No, you listen to me. You– Look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you, it... it’s been the best part of my life. And the things that... [inhales sharply] the things we’ve shared together, they have changed me. You’re my family. I love you. I love all of you. Just please... please, don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”), I could see how one could interpret the “I love you. I love all of you.” as being about Cas being in love w/ a particular person (obviously Dean) and then loving Sam and Mary, too, in a platonic familial way. It’s ambiguous and there’s certainly enough plausible deniability, but. I do wonder.

#spn rewatch #season 12 #sam #dean #mary #dean & cas #dean & mary #queue

[write-nerdy-to-me]

~ destiel fic, hurt/comfort, 1k words, for @castielsdisciple​  

“Be still,” Dean murmurs to Cas when he flinches away again. He’s tried to minimize how much he pokes and digs, knowing what a bitch it is to be on the business end of pliers, but he can’t help that some of the shards are buried deep. He waits patiently as Cas takes a large swallow from the whiskey bottle he’s clutched like a lifeline, then Dean picks out yet another broken glass piece and drops it into the cup next to his hip.  

It couldn’t have just been a cut-and-dry D-list case, because life — this life especially — doesn't work like that. It was inevitable for shit to go sideways on them, and it’s laughable, fucking inane Dean ever dared to think otherwise. (“Good things do happen, Dean,” Cas said to him once. Dean’s still not convinced that's true.) 

Dean doesn’t know what it is about Cas, but the monster, like, fixated on him. The whole night, no matter how hard Dean fought to get the ugly bastard's attention, it kept going after Cas. Then monster grabbed and fucking bodily tossed him out the window and let out a roar that felt like it shook the whole house; Dean's only felt his heart leap into his throat like that a few times. He didn't get time to even process what happened because the monster, having taken out one opponent, turned and advanced on him. Dean had to finish the job alone, not knowing if Cas was even still alive. He ran to find Cas lying on a patch of wood chips, shattered glass surrounding him like a halo. Those few short moments felt like several lifetimes as he slid to his knees next to Cas, who was winded and aching and breathing. ("You alive?" Dean asked, and Cas huffed out a pained laugh and flipped him the bird. "Yeah — yeah, you're alive, you asshole.") 

Dean could swear that Cas has a deathwish or something because the reckless motherfucker refused to be checked out at the hospital. Dean insisted that he needed to go, as only so much could be done with the sparse supplies they had. They argued, and in the end, Cas’ stubborn glare won out. If he was gonna be like that, then Dean figured the sooner they get a move on and save Cas from his own bullheaded stupidity, the better. The last thing they need is Cas getting an infection. And the way he climbed into the Impala, slow, graceless, hiding his winces and grinding his teeth, only further proved that they should head to the hospital, but Dean held his tongue.

The ride back to the motel was, to say the least, unpleasant. In their room, it’s not much better. 

For the past hour now, Dean’s painstakingly removed a myriad of embedded glass and wood shards from Cas’ back, wiped away the blood, and applied ice to the welts that have already turned angry and dark. Cas hasn’t said a word since their fight— that disagreement back at the old farmhouse, but Dean's talked plenty for the both of them. He’s lost count of how many times he’s repeated this mantra: Be still, be still. How many times it’s followed by tiny plinks of glass and wood into a plastic cup. Dean would think Cas finds it patronizing — insulting, even — if it weren’t for the way the coiled tension in Cas’ shoulders starts to ease whenever he speaks. If it makes this process easier for him… well, then who’s Dean to deny him?

“Be still. I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Another glass piece. Plink.

The A/C unit in the corner kicks over with a wheeze. Cas says, “I don’t deserve this,” in a voice so hushed Dean would’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting right behind him. 

Dean’s hands stop, just for a moment. Plink, plink. “What are you talking about?”

Cas sighs. “I don’t deserve this. Your attention, your care, your lo—” He cuts himself off, arms coming around his middle and shoulders hunching away from Dean’s hands. A soft hiss escapes his lips as the motion tugs sharply at his wounds. He sounds like wishes he could take back the words the second they leave his mouth and hates himself for it. “Your kindness. I don’t deserve it.”

How could Cas think so little of himself? Believe himself so unworthy that he shouldn’t even receive the most basic care? But Dean gets it, maybe more than Cas realizes. “That’s bullshit,” Dean says mildly. Plink. 

“Dean...” Cas starts to shift further away from him, and that won’t do, because he needs to listen, needs to hear what Dean’s telling him, and he won’t if he’s already sinking into himself. 

“Don’t, I’m not finished,” Dean admonishes quietly. “I’m serious. Don’t move.” He touches Cas’ waist and— and he just stills with a shaky breath. If this were any other time, Dean would dwell on how Cas caves at the slightest touch initiated from him, how he always just lets him.

When it seems like Cas isn’t on the verge of bolting, Dean says, “I know there's something about this case that got to you bad — don’t think I didn’t notice, man.” Hunts aren't easy, and unexpected bodies turning up are never something a good hunter takes lightly, but Cas seemed to take each one like a devastating blow. Dean tried to press Cas about it, and he shook off Dean’s worry and pretended that everything was fine. Dean doesn't have to be a good hunter to know Cas was lying. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Cas turns his face away. “There’s nothing to talk about.” A beat. Then, “I think you’d be better off hunting with Sam again.”

The fuck? Taken aback, heat starts to crawl up Dean’s face. Part of him wants to be angry — hell, he kinda is, underneath the hurt — but he takes a breath and lets it out slowly, for once grateful Cas is facing the other way. “I like hunting with you. Besides, Sam's got his club going on, and anything with Eileen he likes to be involved.”

“Maybe you should have a different partner. One that doesn’t fuck up.”

“Everyone fucks up,” Dean says defensively. “Cas, if this is about what you did, you’re already forgiven for that—” 

But Cas isn’t listening. The dam's busted open. “I’m supposed to— I used to be an angel. My powers, I could... I could help you, I could help Sam, but now I can’t — I can’t even do that.” Cas covers his face with his hands, rakes them roughly up through his hair. “I’m — I’m useless.”

Dean’s heart clenches sharply. He knew that the fading powers and subsequent loss of them had been hard on Cas, but Dean didn’t know it was affecting him this badly. Then he feels like an asshole, because of course this was, for fuck's sake. “Cas…”

Cas turns around, winces as he moves too quickly. He touches Dean’s face with gentle, hesitant fingers. There are scrapes and cuts Dean hasn’t taken care of yet, too occupied with making sure Cas doesn’t get a damn infection. Cas’ eyes grow sad; his brow furrows. “I miss— With a touch, I could heal you. I wouldn’t need you to care for me this — this way.” 

“Cas, man, you gotta know that it’s never been about your powers. You’re not a-a tool, Cas. All I want— It’s just you. I told you, man. I’d rather have you. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

Cas is quiet for a minute. “Your faith... I've always admired it. How you put your trust in people. You're a good man, Dean."

"Yeah, well." Dean clears his throat. "Gotta make up for all the bad shit I've done, right?"

Cas hums, unconvinced. He grabs the damp rag that held the ice, shaking out the remaining pieces. He doesn’t seem to care where the ice landed. "Let me?" 

Dean almost says no, he's fine, but something in the way Cas looks at him... "Okay."

Cas wipes away the dried blood on Dean's face. Lately, he and Cas would be arguing, if they weren’t busy giving each other the cold-shoulder. It’s not the first time they’ve been at opposite ends or had disagreements — Dean refuses to say they bickered — not by a long shot. It’s just... been a while. Dean thought they were past petty fights. Now, though, they fall into a comfortable silence, for once not thick with tension from the unsaid. 

Cas’ thumb traces over the scar on Dean's chin, and he says, a hopeless look in his eye, "I love you. Did you know that?"

Dean just breathes and touches Cas' wrist. "Cas..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know."

Dean tugs the rag out of Cas' hand. His mind is taking a second to reboot. But he knows — he knows he needs to kiss Cas right now. "C’mere," he mumbles and cups Cas' face between his palms and presses their mouths together. When they separate to breathe, Dean says, “It’s always you, Cas. You know that.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I love you.” The smile Cas gives him is soft and crooked and still sad. Dean’s not stupid; he knows things with Cas are rocky at best, but it’s a start. “Now turn back around so I can get the rest of the junk out, asshole.”

#i had a hard time getting this to flow but it's DONE #FINALLY #i hope this is to your liking #i tried to make it whumpy #also lol #it ended with cas taking care of dean #listen cas just wants to feel useful and maybe this way he can speak dean's language #they're not always good with words #cas whump #human!cas #hurt!cas #caretaker!dean #hurt/comfort #mutual hurt/comfort #dean is touch-starved #cas has self-esteem issues #dean has self-esteem issues #so on par with the show #destiel #destiel fic #fic prompt #nerdy writes shit #i've become spn trash #long post for ts

[shipsandlattes]

So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already. 

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long. 

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold. 

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean​ and @inacatastrophicmind​! 

#supernatural #SPN #DeanCas #destiel #deanwinchtser #castiel #15x18 #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #actor #acting #I ship it #shipper #i love you #spn spoilers #opinion piece #thoughts #my two cents #ships and lattes

[contemplativepancakes]

sunsets for somebody else

Daphne runs into her long lost husband arguing with another man in the grocery store. Things start to take a turn when she realizes they're married.

The bottle of bleach drops from Daphne’s hand into her cart, landing with a sloshing thud as she takes in the scene in front of her, frozen in her tracks. Emmanuel is standing right in front of her, arguing with another man about cleaning supplies.

Wearing a beige trench coat for some inexplicable reason—it’s almost 90 degrees outside—Emmanuel listens to a man who’s explaining in minute detail how to clean an oven. They’re both wearing wedding rings, and Daphne’s heart swells for a moment before she realizes it’s a different ring from the one she gave Emmanuel all those years ago.

“Dean, I don’t think this is safe for Jack. This is going to create noxious fumes,” Emmanuel says, squinting at the ingredients of the cleaner apparently-Dean had thrust at him.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and Daphne squeezes the handle of her shopping cart harder, feeling faint. It’s not every day you come across your long lost husband at the Stop N’ Shop.

“I think the kid can take some fumes,” Dean says, plucking the bottle out of Emmanuel’s hands and putting it in the cart. “We wouldn’t even have to worry about this if someone didn’t let the pizza fall onto the bottom of the oven.”

“The directions said to put it directly on the middle rack!” Emmanuel protests, and Dean rubs a hand down Emmanuel’s back in a familiar way that makes Daphne’s stomach roil.

She’s not jealous, she’s not. She was just helping Emmanuel when she found him, after all. Their marriage was simply one of…convenience for Emmanuel. It’s not like he had a birth certificate with him, or a social security number. What did Daphne get out of all this? Well. Daphne looks at his cheek bones wistfully, her gaze dipping down to his strong forearms his trench coat is rolled up to reveal.

Dean rolls his eyes fondly, and then he tugs Emmanuel into his side, kissing him on the temple. Daphne jerks her stare away for a moment before returning it, noticing now that their wedding rings match.

“Emmanuel?” she chokes out, against her better judgment.

For a long second, she doesn’t think Emmanuel heard her, but he turns around. “Daphne?”

Daphne nods, her words forsaking her. She doesn’t miss the way Dean clutches possessively at Emmanuel’s hip.

“I…thought you were dead,” she finally says. “I filed a missing person report.”

Dean squints at her, before something like recognition passes over her face, and now that she thinks about it, Daphne recognizes him, too. He’s the one who showed up right before everything went to shit. Horror stories of Stockholm syndrome flash through her mind.

“Emmanuel, are you…happy?” she settles on.

Emmanuel gives her a smile, leaning harder into Dean. “I am.”

“Good. That’s. Good,” she says, a strangled look on her face, she’s sure. “Would you want to catch up some time?” she asks before she fully registers what’s coming out of her mouth.

Emmanuel gives her a warm smile. “I’d love that.”

As they set up a time to get coffee, Daphne tries to ignore the glare Dean levels at her throughout the whole conversation. He insists that their meeting be tomorrow, since apparently they won’t be in the area for long. Daphne tries to ignore the warning bells in her mind that tell her she’s about to get murdered and takes solace in the fact that at least they’re meeting in a public place.

Besides, even if Emmanuel’s husband is a serial killer, surely Emmanuel won’t let him murder her, right?

-

The next day, Daphne hems and haws as she debates what to wear. Whatever this is, it’s the exact opposite of a date, anyway. She knocks on the door of her foster child, Alex, to wake them up before she goes into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. Really, she’s just doing it for herself. She’s allowed to want to look nice!

When she finally deems herself as ready as she’s going to get, she goes back to Alex’s room to make sure they’re actually up. To her pleasant surprise, they’re sitting on the edge of their bed putting on their socks and almost ready. “Excited for school today?” she asks.

Alex makes a face at her. “Never,” they say, but their voice at least has the edge of a smile to it.

They’ve come a long way since they were first placed with her, and even though Daphne knows she shouldn’t be getting overly attached, she can’t help it. She walks down the steps and into the kitchen, deliberating for a moment on breakfast before putting frozen waffles into the toaster. If she’s about to get murdered while Alex is at school, she can at least make sure the last thing she made for them wasn’t cereal.

Alex tromps down the steps, dragging their bookbag behind them, and Daphne hides her smile behind her glass of orange juice. Alex lights up at the sight of the waffles, disturbingly easy to please, as always. They inhale them, as teenagers do, before putting their dishes in the sink. Daphne cracks open her laptop as they wait for the bus, attempting to get some of her work done for the day since she’ll be taking a break later for the coffee. She really hopes her boss doesn’t try and call her while she’s out.

Or, maybe she does. She’s not sure she’s prepared for the level of awkwardness that she’s about to go through, but maybe it won’t be as bad as she thinks. She really wants to know what Emmanuel has been up to for all of this time. She’s still…embarrassingly hung up on him, and it would be nice to get some closure.

The bus pulling up in front of the house jerks her out of her thoughts, and she gives Alex a wave before they race off to get on. She watches them settle into a seat with one of their friends, and smiles at the fact that they even have friends now.

In the end, Daphne doesn’t manage to get much work done before she clambers into her car and drives to the coffee shop they agreed on. She doesn’t really think she needs caffeine with the way her leg is bouncing already.

Emmanuel and Dean are already there when she walks in, Emmanuel with a cup of black coffee he’s dumping sugar packets into and Dean with something with whipped cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She gives them a tentative wave before ordering hot chocolate for herself, settling herself delicately in the seat across from them.

“So,” Dean says. “You were Cas’s wife?”

She squints. “Cas?”

Emmanuel speaks up. “After I regained my memories, I remembered that was my name.”

“Oh.” Smiling weakly, she tries to reconcile that. “You have them all back now?”

Emman—Cas nods.

“Just forgot about me, though?” she tries to ask lightly, but it comes out a little garbled.

“You took advantage of him!” Dean explodes from the other side of the table, making Daphne flinch. “Who the fuck finds someone naked with no memories and marries them?”

“Dean,” Cas chastises, his arm shifting like he’s putting his hand on Dean’s thigh under the table.

“I was helping him,” Daphne says hotly. “Would you have just wanted me to leave him there?”

Cutting Dean off before he can say anything else, Cas looks at Daphne and smiles in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’m very grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to let you know I was alright.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his sugar monstrosity. He comes away with a whipped cream mustache, and it’s hard not to laugh as he wipes it away in total seriousness.

“So,” Daphne says. “You two have a kid? Jack?”

Scowling, which seems to be Dean’s automatic reflex, he exchanges a glance with Cas before softening. “Yeah, we have a kid. He’s four.”

Daphne thinks maybe Dean should have been a little bit more concerned about the fumes of cleaning chemicals if they have a four year old, but she keeps her judgments to herself. Cas beams. “He’s very bright.”

Returning the smile tentatively, Daphne asks, “How long have you two been married?”

“It’s almost our one year anniversary,” Dean says gruffly.

Daphne tries not to let it affect her, even if that’s more time than she ever got with Cas. “Practically newly weds, then!”

“It’s been an adventure; that’s certain,” Cas says, smiling serenely even as Dean elbows his ribs. “Tell us about you, Daphne. What have you been doing?”

Daphne shrugs a shoulder. “Oh, not too much.” Mourning the man I pulled out of the woods and saved and married, she doesn’t say. She knows Emmanuel never felt the same way about her that she did him. “I got approved to be a foster parent, so I’ve had a few kids come through.”

“Helping people has always been your calling,” Cas says softly.

Daphne takes a few minutes to gush about Alex, and her previous kids before them, before she notices Dean’s not actively glaring at her anymore.

“That’s…nice,” he begrudges when she finishes.

“What do you do, Dean?”

Looking like he just dropped something on his foot, he stammers before he hastily says, “I work construction.”

Daphne squints at him. She has the feeling he’s lying to her, but she has no idea why he would be.

“And what about you, Cas?”

“Oh, I mostly just take care of Jack.”

“You’re a stay at home dad?” she asks, the thought making her stomach twist into knots and heat rise to her face.

“Of a sorts,” Cas agrees.

God, they’re making it impossible to carry on a conversation with them. Daphne keeps a smile pasted to her face. “What do you two do for fun?”

“I’m convinced Dean thinks fun is superfluous,” Cas confides, even as Dean splutters at him. “But I like to drag him to thrift stores with me. Dean likes to bake, also.”

“I work on cars, too,” Dean says, and Daphne can feel his desperation to maintain his facade.

She tries not to quirk a smile at his discomfort. They chat for a while longer, Dean getting increasingly dodgy about the questions she asks before she finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and looks down at the dank floor. Is she getting what she wanted out of this? She has no idea what she even imagined happening when she asked to catch up. Emmanuel running away with her? Maybe in her wildest fantasies. Taking a deep breath to ground herself, she looks in the mirror and checks her makeup, rubbing at her under eye circles before walking back out of the bathroom.

Cas is at the counter ordering another drink, for Dean, by the sound of the sugar content, and she walks over to him. Hesitating before she bites the bullet, she asks, “You’re not…like, being held against your will, right? That Dean seems,” she pauses, “interesting.”

Cas laughs warmly, putting a hand over Daphne’s. “No, nothing like that. This is a choice of my own free will, believe it or not. Dean is much more caring than he lets on.”

Well, Daphne’s not sure she believes it, but. At least he’s happy, and in the end, that’s all she’s ever wanted for him.

#supernatural #destiel #castiel #outsider pov #daphne allen #the born again identity #contemplative writing

[bi-bard]

Milkshakes - Team Free Will Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Milkshakes

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

Requested: @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 1,846 words

Warning(s): violence, death

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

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

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

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

--Third Person P.O.V--

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

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

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

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

"Anything interesting," Dean asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you two insane," Castiel asked.

"Listen-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--time skip--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who's that," Dean asked.

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

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

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

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

Sam, Dean, and Cas were getting thrown around.

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

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

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

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

The others came running at her.

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

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

Dean, Sam, and Cas looked at each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A weapon?"

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

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

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

She nodded, "Are you guys angels?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We can keep you safe," Dean promised.

"You're sure?"

"As sure as possible," he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[charcubed]

Let's talk about Supernatural 15x07, "Last Call."

Or as I like to call it, "the episode that makes me go feral because it tells us so much about Dean's sexuality, character, and arc." 

YES others have written meta! YES I will talk about it myself for the satisfaction! I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

This post was originally a thread on Twitter and I am crossposting it to my blog.

Alt image IDs are included in that linked Twitter thread!

Join me on this journey.

What's the context of this episode? Dean's been kind of down/depressed, feeling hopeless in the face of the idea that they have to defeat God (and not really working towards that goal much), and he's mid-divorce with Cas. He goes out on this solo case to try to clear his head.

And he ends up at Swayze's Bar. 

 Look, there are many things to be said about this. Dean loves Patrick Swayze. Arguably has a CRUSH on Swayze. It's very tied up in Dean pretending not to like "chick flicks" but he secretly does, which is queer coding. This was a Choice™️.

Speaking of Choices™️: professional actors made many here. Deliberately. 

 Dean is smacked on the ass by a woman and then Lee smacks him on the ass too. Dean and Lee CONSTANTLY have physical familiarity and fond eye contact. I will limit myself to 1 paragraph about this lest I list it all.

My point is that I just really need every person to digest and accept the fact that this is textually bi Dean. Not subtext; it's TEXT. 

Dean and Lee had a relationship. Their history is alluded to in touch and in words. They had an orgy together. Dean's bisexuality is not repressed.

It's also now canon that Dean tries to hide that he can sing well. Most people don't know (like Sam) but some do (Lee). Hence "Eye of the Tiger" callback.

And so: that's also the implication for his sexuality. Dean singing ON STAGE with bi lighting is him being ready to be Out.

They dedicated an entire half an ep at minimum to emphasizing he's bi... and to Dean having a conversation with someone he (initially) trusts about potentially having a break from hunting, and what that could mean.

LEE: You're chasing missing persons, huh? I thought you'd be on to something bigger by now, like the Loch Ness Monster... Bigfoot.

DEAN: Trust me, uh, bigger doesn't always equal better. Besides, who's gonna look out after the little guy? God certainly isn't.

LEE: Damn, brother, that's dark.

DEAN: Yeah, it's been a rough, uh... it's been a rough decade, Lee.

LEE: Yeah.

DEAN: But that's a conversation for a different time, 'cause this, this right here, this is all right.

LEE: Well, I'm glad you approve. This is nothing you can't have, man.

DEAN: Oh, come on. Who's gonna kill the bad guys?

LEE: Somebody else. Dean, how many lives you think you saved, huh? Hundreds? Thousands? You deserve a break, bro. Hell, you might even deserve two.

"But Lee turns out to be a villain!" some might say. "Isn't the point that giving up hunting is bad?" 

Nope. 

Lee's a DARK MIRROR for Dean. He exists to exhibit the truths behind Dean's desires, and then what they'd look like if they turned bad. Take it from him: "I am you."

There are LAYERS here. You can't focus on the dark side and ignore the truths that take place in the (often bi) light. 

The singing? The conversations about taking a break? Throwing men out of the bar, which is framed heroically? "Road House rules" (another Choice™️)?

NONE of that was bad. It shows what Dean wants. 

Things only get bad–literally and visually–when Dean's tied up as Lee suddenly says wrong things in the dark. 

The contrast exists to show that maintaining Goodness is a choice, and Dean would have no problem upholding that.

LEE: It's called a marid. It's a freaky-looking little thing, isn't it? [Lee laughs, and Dean stares at him, incredulous] Ah. As long as you feed it, it gives you money, it gives you health, everything you dreamed of.

DEAN: And so, what, it just costs innocent lives?

LEE: Dean, you and I both know no one's innocent. After everything we've done, aren't... aren't we owed a little happiness, huh? Don't we deserve that much?

DEAN: Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.

LEE: Good or bad... the world doesn't care. No one cares, Dean.

DEAN: Well, I do.

LEE: Yeah. And that's what got you here. Now, takes a while to drain a man, but listen to me. Don't worry about it, all right? Don't worry because once you lose a couple of pints, you just fall asleep, and then it'll be over.

[Lee pats Dean on the shoulder]

DEAN: Lee.

LEE: This... this is not how I wanted this to go, Dean. When that blonde girl walked in here last night, I should've know, you know, Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs, you were gonna keep digging, and you were gonna figure me out. And if it's got to be you or me, well, I got to pick me, man.

"No one cares, Dean."

"Well, I do."

It's a reminder to himself as much as it is to Lee. It's a re-centering of purpose that he sorely needs.

And what's also key? Lee is human, but is now a "monster" in Dean's words. Because Lee lost his ability to care, Dean can't abide by that.

(Side note: bonus for the fact that Lee dies up against a wall by being impaled and he coughs up blood. You know who doesn’t cough up blood in their very weird and unrealistic death scene? Dean in the finale.)

Remember: Lee is a dark mirror for Dean. "I am you." 

By fighting and (tragically) killing Lee, Dean "kills" the darker side of himself. The side that's struggling to keep going right now... AND the side that fears eventually wanting a break means you must be selfish and stop caring.

He can keep going. He can find strength to fight God–and in the end, take a break and CHOOSE peace. It won't make him dark. He's the most caring man on Earth, even when it's hard. That’s reinforced later. 

Isn't he owed a little happiness? And that's not in the having. It's in just being.

The bonus is what's going on with Cas in this episode. 

Dean's clearing his head and finding his center again while Cas is calling him. 

Come home. I need you. Remember what matters.

And again, contrast: Lee turns out not to be "real/true" in the way Dean thought he was. But Cas IS.

And after Dean goes through all of this... he's grounded again, he recognizes that even amongst questions of what God controls there are still choices to be made, he's reminded that letting his caring heart lead him is priority, he's lost another friend... 

He comes home to Cas.

It's awkward. They're still distanced. 

But this episode is a turning point for Dean. He's not angry at Cas anymore, he wants to talk, he's ready to move forward... he just doesn't know how to yet.

And if you follow the through-line... then you get Rowena saying "fix it"... and then after that is the Purgatory prayer.

I just !!! 

S15 is packed with Dean development to hone in towards the end of his arc, but "Last Call" manages to hit SO many buttons. 

• He's always been bi, & is ready to be Out

• He can want a break–& maybe run a bar like the Roadhouse

• Caring is at the core of who he is

It's about the CHOICE. It's about wanting to live your truths, and that "caring" can mean many things–from defeating God and saving the world, to making the hard choices when it counts, to maybe running a bar where people are safe.

14x10 and its matching Texan Star also say hello:

DEAN: How come you always have a boyfriend?

PAMELA: How come you only want what you can't have?

DEAN: Whoa.

PAMELA: Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

DEAN: All right.

PAMELA: So, still not ready to sell the bar, huh? It's a lot of money.

DEAN: Sell? This bar? This is my dream.

PAMELA; Yeah.

And I recognize that rereading this info is sad(der) now because of what we got in the end, so uh... sorry. 

But that's half the point: it's repeatedly blatantly clear what we were meant to get, down to deliberate echoes in word choice–caring, happiness, deserve, even Roadhouse.

Dean was meant to choose to take a break, maybe run a bar–whether on Earth or in Heaven. At minimum, if Dean was meant to end up in Heaven, he was meant to choose it with eyes wide open. And the next time the phone rang with Cas' name (15x19), he RAN for him. He was VERY ready.

And the whole season tells you that. This episode is just my favorite.

So... thanks for letting me ramble on about it!!! 

DEAN WINCHESTER: BI ICON, ONCE-LOVER OF LEE WEBB, THE MOST CARING MAN ON EARTH WHO DESERVED TO CHOOSE PEACE AFTER GAINING HIS FREEDOM, & SOULMATE TO AN ANGEL

And a very big thank you to the talented kings Jensen Ackles & Christian Kane, and their longstanding friendship. They gave me many rights with their acting choices. 

Here's an iconic bonus for the road.

#supernatural #spn meta #15x07 Last Call #Lee Webb #Dean Winchester #Destiel #Dean is bi #took a lot of self control for me to not go FUCKING FERAL in this #char writes things

[paralleledmediaexperience]

right before my birthday back in May someone made a post about Jack needing more love and hugs, and I had this idea in the tags and then went and wrote about a thousand words of this and then. forgot it existed!! anyway I’ve mostly polished it up now. enjoy Jack telling one of his dads he loves him and then not only being hugged but also hearing it back!! it’s what our boy deserves!!!!!

Now with part two!!!!!

-

Jack hadn’t meant to fix everything, in his defense. Yes, they’d defeated god with his powers, which had unintentionally released Amara, who had agreed to take her brother’s powers from Jack and then let the world mostly be as long as she got the chance to see him every once in a while. She’d returned the universe to normal, with a few additions for their happiness, as Amara had said. Dean had choked out Cas’ name, and Amara had frowned before replying that it might take a bit more time. 

They had gone back to the bunker and then the bunker had been thoroughly overrun the whole next week by- it seemed- everyone the Winchesters knew, including a few faces who were apparently as back from the dead by Amara’s hand as Mary was last time she owed a Winchester a favor. Through it all- old friends and odd allies and more- Jack knows Dean isn’t doing well. Isn’t sleeping well. There’s only been one night- well, Jack hadn’t seen Dean drinking but he’d heard Sam’s arguing and Dean’s short, choppy answers, and it was familiar enough.

He’d googled “what to do when my dad misses someone and we can’t talk to them yet,” and wikihow had good suggestions- he’d read through the sections for both short-term separations, and managing the death of a loved one. He hadn’t really been able to figure out which would be more helpful. It had turned out to be the death of a loved one, which… shouldn’t be surprising, no matter that Cas would be back. Soon. 

He couldn’t make Dean do any of the things on the list, but it had suggested that the person would like to feel loved during their time of grieving.

And when he’d searched “how to make someone feel loved,” the first article had said the easiest way was simply to tell them. So when Dean hands him a plate of pancakes with the bacon cooked just how Jack likes it, Jack thinks it’s such a small thing to make his heart feel so big and warm. And he smiles and says, “Thanks Dean. I love you.”

Unfortunately, Jack hasn’t actually grabbed the plate when he says this, and Dean’s hands drop it. The sound of the plate shattering on the tile is only half as upsetting as the wounded look in Dean’s eyes as he looks back at Jack. And Jack isn’t sure why it went so wrong but he looks away immediately, the shame of causing that hurt somehow and the slow horror of realizing he’d ruined the breakfast that Dean had made him turning his stomach into knots. He steps back almost unconsciously before remembering the plate had just broken, and in just his socks, a piece of ceramic jabs into his heel and slices him open, and he actually can’t help the small cry of surprise and pain that slips out.

“Jeez, kid,” Dean breathes out, and Jack gets pushed into the nearest chair. “Get that out of your foot while I clean this up.”

The warm feeling in his chest was gone, pressed into something cold and tight in Jack’s throat. He’d just- the article had said it makes people happy to hear they are loved in times of grief. 

He watches, silent as Dean turns off the stove and sweeps up the wasted food and plate pieces, soundly dumping it in the trash before digging under the sink for a second and coming out with a clean dishrag and a box of bandaids. It’s only when he sees Dean stop and take a quiet, private shuddering breath to forcibly relax his tensed shoulders that he lowers his gaze again. He picks the sharp sliver of plate out of his skin through the sock before peeling it off to examine the cut it left. Very shallow, but it still stretches two inches along on the inside of his heel, the blood sluggishly dripping out. 

It’s not bad, but very inconvenient, so he almost heals it before remembering that Amara had said not to use his powers after she took Chuck’s powers. Not until she returned and okayed it, at least. He sighs, pinching it together with his fingers, half heartedly wishing it had been more awkward and antagonistic between his aunt and his dads, so he could have maybe convinced Dean that they shouldn’t listen to what Amara told him to do. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.

He hears Dean turn the water on to damp the cloth, but he can’t make himself look back up again. His gaze goes back down to the floor as Dean starts to turn back toward him, focusing on the small smear of red on the floor, where Dean had dragged the broom through the spots of blood he’d left.

He raises his hands as Dean approaches, ready to be handed the stuff to bandage himself up, but Dean just beats them away as he sits down next to Jack, hunching in as he grabs the injured foot. Jack still feels unbearably small in the silence between them, both him and Dean leaning in and feeling small and unwilling to speak as he wipes away the blood and then dries the skin around it. Jack grabs two of the bandaids and opens them, and Dean wraps them around the cut before patting it and drawing away, and Jack doesn’t know what else to do.

“Sorry,” He says softly, because he isn’t sure what he did wrong but it hurt Dean. And he wasn’t even angry, Jack could tell, cause his shoulders hadn’t tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to lash out- they’d tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to fall apart. Jack’s felt like he had to know the difference for a while now.

“Jack,” Dean says, and it’s so sharp that Jack jerks up to look at him. Had he read that wrong? Was Dean angry? But when he meets Dean’s eyes it’s still that hurting, the one that Jack could remember all the way from back when he was a newborn, or something close to it. “No, you don’t-” Dean lifted a hand to his face and dragged it down with a rough breath, and Jack wasn’t expecting him to look back at him but he did, eyes burning into Jack’s. “You don’t have to be sorry. That was on me- I dropped the plate.”

Jack tries not to squirm, because it’s not about the plate, is it? The food had been thrown away and the plate had hurt him, but he’d said he loved Dean and that had made him drop it. “I’m sorry that I-”

“Jack,” Dean cuts across again, and this time his brows are drawing together the way they do when he’s angry. But he looks away from Jack again, and he can tell somehow that it’s not anger at him. Dean doesn’t even want Jack to be looking at this anger. “You say whatever you want, okay? I’m not upset that you said it.”

It isn't that he thinks Dean doesn’t mean the words, but Jack’s also not sure Dean believes them either. “I am, though,” he says, petulant, crossing his arms and letting his foot fall back down to the ground, ignoring the bite of pain from treating the cut so roughly. “If it hurt you, I shouldn’t have-”

Dean cuts him off again. “No. Jack, that’s-” He struggles for a second, but Jack just wants to understand. Unbidden, he holds his breath and Dean draws his in, trying to find the words.

“You get to love me if you want to,” Dean grinds out, and Jack realizes there are tears gathering along his lower lashes. “And you get to tell me if you want to. This hurt ain’t about you.”

That does clear it up, somehow, and Jack nods and looks back down at his hands, realizing there’s still blood on his fingers, too. Dean turns away enough that they can almost pretend he’s not rubbing the tears out of his eyes. “I won’t say it if you don’t want me to either, though,” he says, and he grabs the cloth from the table where Dean had left it, finding a clean spot on the damp corner and using it.

“That ain’t how it works, kid.” He doesn’t elaborate. He just grabs the box of bandaids and closes it before gathering up the paper wrapping. It gets thrown out, and the box stowed back under the sink, and then Jack is just staring at Dean.

“How does it work?” 

They both stop. Jack didn’t expect to actually let the question out, but it’s off of his lips before he can seal them. 

Dean is frozen, staring at him.

“Not like that,” Dean says eventually, weariness dripping from each word. “Jack, do you… do you want us to say…”

He doesn’t say it, the kitchen fan blowing white noise into the quiet air between them. Jack knows that he could ask and Dean would say it right now. Dean always gives the people he loves what they want, what they need, and this would just be the next thing he could offer. Something he could give.

“I don’t need you to.” Jack says, honestly. “I know. I just wanted you to hear it, because I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to say it to you.”

Dean squints at him. “You... “ His eyes are wet again. Without warning, Dean grabs him and pulls him up, into a hug, and Jack grabs back as tight as he can, feeling lost. But it’s good, it’s good just like every time Dean hugs him. He squeezes his eyes shut tight as if he can’t feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, hot and stinging. “I love you too, Jack. I don’t get- you and-” Dean sputters off, still holding him. “If you want to hear it, you let me know. I’ll get better at it.”

“Maybe every once in a while,” Jack says, trying not to let his voice sound like he’s crying. It does anyway.

“Alright then,” Dean says, and he squeezes him one more time before letting go, turning away abruptly and bustling back to the stove. Jack wipes his eyes on his sleeve, his whole chest feeling empty and full all at once. The rag had fallen out of his hands sometime in their conversation, and he leans down to grab it, pausing to wipe up the blood on the floor. Dean comes back a minute later and pulls it out of his hand before passing him another plate. “Here, since the last one humpty-dumpty’d.”

They don’t continue the conversation. Jack eats his breakfast as Dean fixes himself another cup of coffee, and they sit quietly, waiting for Cas to come home.

#Jack Kline #Dean Winchester #supernatural #my fic #creativecaviar #pancake cinematic universe

[windsource]

for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too.  PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one. 

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now. 

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles. 

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.” 

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know. 

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits. 

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued. 

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea. 

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow. 

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush. 

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand. 

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]

#b*gen #bookshelf #spnprideweek #sam and cas #rambleoncas writing #roc original #my post #theedorksinlove #userdainty #klinejack #usershey #creativecaviar #userpris #usersully #spnclownpals #hope it was okay to tag!!

[chocolatecakecas]

Rockin' the Suburbs: Destiel Fic Chapter 1

Chp2 Chp3 Chp4 or read on ao3

Pretending to be married to his best friend who he's secretly in love with? Dean's totally got this under control. But pretending to be married and raising an actual toddler with his best friend who he's secretly in love with? Yeah so maybe he doesn't have it totally, under control, actually he's screwed. Fake married case fic+actual baby Jack? What could go wrong?

This was all Sam's fault.

Sam had strolled into the war room yesterday afternoon announcing that he had found a case in Sudbury, Massachusetts. Six people died, all parents, all with one kid, kids lived, but the parents, they weren't so lucky. It was in one of those Stepford gated communities where every house looked the same, "Pleasant Acres", or some crap like that. Meaning, Jody, Donna and Claire were all set to take the case, but they called twenty minutes ago saying they got caught up on a hunt in Montana. So now they were all shifting through their contacts, trying to find hunters with kids, since whatever it was only seemed to target families.

And Dean's been feeling well, weird, ever since Sam brought up the case yesterday. Something itching in the back of his mind. He's of course been  trying to ignore it, but now that he's reading over the case it's getting stronger, making his twist in way he definitely doesn't want to unpack.

He glances up across the room, eyes quickly finding Cas and Jack. Cas is seated across from him on Jack's blanket, helping him build unstable block towers, just so he could knock them down.

(read the rest under the cut)

Dean's stomach twists again, and an all too familiar feeling washes over him.

Yeah, he definitely doesn't want to unpack it.

"Hey, I think I got something" Sam calls pulling Dean from his trance as Cas stands, making his way back to his chair.

"So Sarah and Mike Johnson? Jody met them, and their daughter, Katie on a hunt last year. They live somewhat close by, so I'll try to give them a call" Sam continues, reaching for his phone.

And now, Dean doesn't know why, but he felt that thing squirm deep inside him, and the next thing he knew, he was talking.

"Why don't we take it?" Dean practically shouts startling everyone, including himself.

Sam paused, cellphone halfway to his ear and Cas' head snapped up so quick Dean's worried he has whiplash.

And so Dean freezes, mouth suddenly very dry.

What the hell was he doing, why was h-

"Why don't we take the case? I mean the thing is only going after families right, and we-we've got an 18 month old super baby right here. So we cou-two of us could take Jack for a week, play house for a week, and gank the thing" Dean somehow chokes out, watching as Sam and Cas' stare with increasingly disbelieving looks.

Dean’s heart began pounding against his chest.

Dean could barely believe the suggestion to take the hunt came out of his mouth, let alone bringing the kid? Completely out of the question, way too dangerous. He's not just gonna put the kid directly in harms way, on a hunt for godsake! And yet the suggestion had rolled off his tongue anyway? Dean didn't know why.

God what the hell was wrong with him today?

But it's not like he can just take it back now that he practically screamed it, so in favor of looking like an idiot or delving into the reason behind why he said it, Dean sat in his own silent panic.

From across the table he watched Sam's face contort into about three different emotions, finally landing on something that looked like agreement.

Shit.

"Well, that might actually be a goo-" Sam started with a sigh

"You can't seriously be suggesting we bring Jack along on a hunt? It's too dangerous, we've barely even left the bunker with him" Cas immediately cut in and god Dean could kis-Dean was very relieved.

And Sam surely wouldn't argue with that. So he was in the clear. He could just forget about this whole stupid conversation like it never happened, and never have to think about it ag-

"Exactly, I mean you guys have barely left the house and Jack has barely even seen the world. I hate to say it, but I think it'd be good, for all of us" Sam replied reluctantly.

And there goes Dean's heart rate.

"Sam, we don't even know what we're up against it co-"

"I know Cas, but he'll be with us. And besides, it looks like whatever's doing this, is only taking victims with young children, not a single one is over the age of five. So it's probably better if we end up taking the case anyway, rather than Sarah and Mike, or even Jody and the girls. We're the only one with a kid under ten. Plus he's half angel, we're probably at greater risk than Jack is" Sam reasons carefully.

A tense silence fell over them, the only sound was Jack babbling to himself on the other side of the room. Dean wanted to say something, wanted to say he doesn't know what he was thinking and it's crazy and they shouldn't take the case, but his mouth wasn't exactly on his side today.

He snuck a glance at Cas who has his eyes trained on Jack.

The tension was killing him, Dean had to say something. He couldn't just let this happen because his stupid mouth started talking nonsense.

So he swallows thickly, opening his mouth to take it all back, so they could forget this whole conversation ever happened, so he wouldn't have to think about why h-

"You're right" Cas sighs, looking as if his answer deflated him.

And Dean couldn't agree more with that sentiment because suddenly all of the air was knocked out of his lungs. He must have looked like it too because Sam met his eyes across the table, leveling him with a look Dean can't decipher.

Then suddenly, a smile spread across his face, which in his experience, is never a good sign.

"Alright so, Dean can stay at a nearby hotel, while Cas and I take the nei-"

"I'll go with Cas" Dean blurted before he even realized what was happening.

He snapped his jaw shut, but apparently not quick enough. Again, Dean didn't know why he said that, but that thing was back swirling around his stomach so he assumed it had to do with whatever the hell that was. And his mouth must have a mind of it's own today because he's pretty sure he didn't tell it to start moving, let alone say that.

Dean's heart beat against his chest, face burning. He forced his eyes to look up at Sam, not daring to even glance in Cas' direction. He can't handle any look that might be on his face. What if he'd rather go with Sam? What if he's ang-

"Okay it's all settled then, I mean so long as that's good with you Cas?" Sam asked, smile turning into a smirk.

"Yes, that's good with me" Cas replied, tone unreadable.

Was he really okay with it? Was he creeped out by the way Dean cut in? Was he actually annoyed that he'd have to be with Dean?

All great questions, with sadly no answers. Because Dean would have to actually look at him, if he wanted any insight to what Cas was thinking, and that was so not going to happen. Not with his face still on fire.

"Alright perfect! I'll call the real estate agent, about setting up a house tour, you guys start packing? And oh, don't forget to think of your backstory so you're both on the same page! We can leave in the morning" Sam said with a too wide smile, as he pushed himself out of his chair. Sam stopped for a moment, giving him a look that Dean definitely didn't want to think about right now, before turning down the hall with a skip in his step.

Yup, this was definitely all Sam's fault.

Heart still racing in his chest, Dean braves a look over at Cas.

And a bit of relief floods through him when he catches those blue eyes. Cas seemed fine, doesn't look angry or disgusted at the thought of doing this thing with Dean. So he counts that as a win, and his heart rate slows a bit, but he still doesn't know what Cas is thinking, and he needs to know.

But he doesn't dare say anything, because at this point anything could come out of his mouth, and that's definitely not a risk Dean's willing to take after the mini heart attack he just suffered. So, awkward silence it was until Cas decides to speak up.

Eventually, after what feels like hours, Cas slumps forward folding his hands on the table as he stares over at Jack. Dean follows his gaze, watching Jack knock over his lopsided block tower with an excited shriek. A small smile tugs at his lips.

"Dean, I still think this is reckless" Cas sighs and Dean turns back, finding his eyes trained on him, filled with worry.

Dean's smile slips at the sight, his heart clenching and he pretends not to know the real reason why.

Things were already...weird between him and Cas lately, and now his dumbass had to go and make it worse. Because what the hell was he thinking suggesting they take this hunt, bring along the kid, and practically beg to pretend to live with Cas. Jesus, Cas is probably beyond creeped out and angry.

Dean has to fix this.

"Cas, listen I'm sorry it was a stupid idea-I don't even know why I said it. Because now we're putting Jack in danger-and it's not fair that you're gonna have to be stuck pretending to be married to me because I-I'm gonna go find Sam and we can just call the whole thing off, and he can contact that other family an-"

"Dean, no stop I want to do the hunt" Cas cut in quickly, effectively stopping Dean's rambling.

"But yo-"

"I said I still thought it was reckless, and it is-to bring Jack along I mean. But Sam's right he's barely gotten out of the bunk-we've all barely gotten out of here, so I think it'll be good for all of us. And besides Jack has his powers" Cas replied, gaze shifting back to Jack.

Dean let out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding. Cas wasn't angry at him, he wanted to go on the hunt. And he didn't seem too torn up about doing it with Dean so-

"Jack will have us to protect him the entire time. And I'm glad it's with you, I feel safer about the whole endeav-not that Sam isn't a phenomenal hunter. He is, but let's face it he isn't the world's best babysitter when it comes to Jack" Cas said turning back to Dean with an amused smile.

He's of course talking about the last time Sam watched Jack, where they walked in to see Sam trying to coax Jack off the ceiling into a laundry basket piled with blankets.

Dean couldn't help crack a smile at Cas' little joke. The squirming feeling had disappeared, leaving Dean feeling much calmer about the whole thing as he relaxed in his chair.

They'd be fine, this would be just like any other hu-

"So, Sam mentioned a backstory? Should we come up with that now, so we aren't caught off guard when someone asks?" Cas suggested, eyes staring into Dean's.

And just like that, Dean's calm had left the building.

"Uh yeah sure. Let's do th-let's start with how we met" Dean managed, now that his throat had gone dry again.

"Well, we met September 19th, 2008 in a barn in-"

"Okay September 2008, we can use that-but let's turn the barn into a bar instead? I saw you sitting at the bar alone, bought you a drink, we started talking, boom the rest is history" Dean raced, wanting very much to be done with this conversation.

"Dean, people always seem to be interested in these kinds of stories. We're probably going to need more information if anyone is going to buy it"

Damnit. Cas had a point, stupid angel always has to be right. So he puffed out a breathe, unclenching his fists under the table.

Breathe Winchester. It's just some fake story.

"Alright alright, so I saw you at the bar, you looked lonely so I bought you a drink and we got to talking. You uh...just got out of a long relationship with a bad ex, and I had just been through hell and back with my job-"

"Oh I see, like me rebelling against heaven, and you literally going to hel-"

"Yeah genius how'd you crack that cod" Dean quipped only to be cut off by a swift kick to the shin. Cas shot him a smug smile causing Dean to roll his eyes, and his stomach definitely did not flip.

Get it together Winchester

"So you helped me through a terrible breakup, and I helped you through the stress of your job. In a way we saved each other, which isn't so different from our real story" Cas continues.

And Dean swears his friggin heart stopped, Cas' words knocking the wind out of him.

God Dean should have stopped thi-

"By the way, what is your job going to be?" Cas questioned with his usual tilt of the head that definitely did not send Dean's heart racing even faster.

"Don't care you pick" Dean managed to force out, as he tried to gain control of his anxiety.

"A mechanic, I think. You love working on Baby, I think you'd enjoy getting to fix and help other people's cars for a living" Cas suggested in the most sincere tone Dean's ever heard. And how Dean somehow managed a nod of approval through his internal breakdown, he'll never know.

"Alright, so you pick what my job is then" Cas smiled softly, either not noticing Dean's panic or clearly ignoring it. Dean was grateful for either option.

Dean managed to reign in his stupid freak out long enough to get his brain working.

"A college professor-maybe like English lit or something. I know you like to read, and you always like to talk to about the books after you finish them. That is if you wa-"

"I think that's perfect, it sounds like a nice career"

"Great, so met in September 2008, mechanic and English Professor helped each other through their crap. Now they're moving to the suburbs to grill burgers in the backyard and fight to get the kid into a good preschool. Sounds like we've go-"

"Oh, we need a wedding anniversary" Cas cut in.

And yeah Dean's 100% sure his heart stopped this time.

How could Dean be so stupid, they wouldn't have to just pretend to be together (which was difficult enough within itself, for reasons he'd rather not discuss), they'd have to be married. Of course he knew this logically, but since his mouth had a friggin mind of it's own, he wasn't really thinking about the implications.

Married. To Cas. With a kid. A family.

And god, Dean couldn't even sa-no he's so not unboxing that right now.

"Uh, got married in our backyard. Just pick any date" Dean said weakly once he found his voice.

Cas was silent for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he nodded to himself

"November 2nd, 2017"

And that was the final hit. Dean was sent spiraling, losing any control he had regained.

The day Cas got out of the empty, the night he called Dean, the night Dean tried to-

"Alright, good. Sounds like we've got everything covered. I'm gonna get a start on packing, why don't you put Squirt over there down for his nap" Dean said jumping to his feet and quickly made his way to his room without a glance backwards. He feels like shit for leaving Cas just sitting there, but he had to get away before he really lost it.

Dean carefully tries not to slam his door and flops down on his bed. His thoughts buzz around in his skull, while about ten different emotions wash over him all at once. With a groan he reaches out and punches his mattress, which doesn't do much of anything seeing as its memory foam.

God what the hell had he gotten himself into.

He just agreed to be fake married to his best friend and live in a house in the suburbs with a 18 month old child.

He was crazy. He didn't even know why he said anythi-god who was he kidding. Of course he knew why he said it, he just didn't know why he let himself say them out loud. Now he's gonna have to play house with Cas and Jack for at least a week, when he can't even admit to himself th-

No. He can't let any of that get in the way. He can't throw himself a pity party just because Cas doesn-this stupid hunt was his own stupid fault, also partially Sam's (Dean's still sticking to that, thank you very much)

This is still a hunt, there are lives at stake. He can stow it. For everyone's sake.

So Dean sighs running his hands through his hair as he racked his mind for what he'd have to pack. On autopilot he began grabbing his clothes and usual crap, shoving it into his bag. As he zipped it up, his eyes landed on a box in the top of his closet.

In a flash he had the box down, lid off, sitting on his lap. Dean reached inside, pulling out two rings and his stomach flipped at the sight.

Yeah, it was gonna be a long night.

The next morning they were all in the garage packing up the trunk, getting ready to leave for their two day drive. Sam said the real estate agent was ecstatic that they were interested in the house. Must be a hard sell since the last three owners died inside.

Dean was strapping Jack into his car seat, rings weighing his pocket down, like a boulder.

"I'm gonna grab the last bag from the kitchen" Sam announced as he jogged out of the garage.

Well, it was now or never. So Dean drew in a shaky breath and walked around the car.

"Uh Cas, here" Dean said lamely, holding out a ring between his fingers.

Cas tilted his, eyes widening at the object.

"We're uh, supposed to be married right? So we need rings ya know" Dean continued unsure of how to proceed.

Cas nodded in understanding, carefully taking it from Dean's fingers, and slipped onto his left hand.

Dean gasped, and quickly tried to cover it up

"Uh yeah sorry of it's too tight, it's mind from years ago. I used to wear a few of them all the time, but they hurt like a bitch when you gotta deck someone" Dean rambled, face heating up.

"It's perfect, thank you" Cas smiled, meeting his eyes.

The squirming feeling was back, and squirmier than ever.

"What about you?" Cas asked looking at Dean's empty fingers.

"Oh! I've got my mom's old wedding ring. Had it resized to fit years ago, so I figured it would work" Dean rushed, pulling the second ring out of his pocket and slipping it onto his finger.

When he looked up again, Cas was staring at him with a look Dean had never seen on him before. It made his heart skip a beat in his chest.

"Alright! You guys ready to go?" Sam called as he walked back through the door, causing both of them to jump.

Moment ruined.

Without a word, they quickly climbed into the Impala. As Dean went to turn the key, his eyes traveled to the rearview mirror.

Jack giggling in his car seat as Cas wiggled his stuffed rabbit right above his head. Cas suddenly looked up catching his eye in the mirror, giving him a soft smile, which Dean found himself easily returning.

His eyes slid over to Sam, who was staring at the ring on his finger. Then Sam met his eyes, offering him a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

So Dean quickly snapped his attention forward, and turned the key a bit too hard.

Yeah, Dean was fucked.

Tag list:

(Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed💛!!!)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @organicpurplepants

@writtendevastation @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26

@multi-fandom-imagine @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @wellofwoes @becky-srs @multi-fandom-dark-lord @perfectkoaladream @castiel-for-lunch @it--hurts--to--become @bowtiesandneckerchiefs @dakiaty @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @hrh-princess-bea @martymar1963 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @midnight-sparks-studio @slipper007 @winchester-novak

#looks its a fic that i actually planned out!! who knew?? #graphic design is NOT my passion but thatd the best i can do ashdhsgah #i love fake married case fics but like added drama of them also being like 'and this is our child' makes me go crAZY so here you go #this first chapter turned out to be 3k by accident so like who knows not me? #this is like a lot of set up and background sorry ashdhaga #THANK YOU ALISON FOR THE TOWN SUGGESTION because my dumbass couldnt think of a town #AND THANK U RUBI FOR LISTENING TO ME YELL ABOUT THIS IDEA #im not following canon really beyond cas coming back from the empty in s13 #destiel fic #baby!jack #dad!dean #dadstiel #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #sammy #bec writes #destiel #goodthingsclara #baby jack truthing

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

#being serious for 5 seconds #RANTING RANTING RANTING #spicy spicy ghost pepper extract #mail

[mlobsters]

supernatural s13e04 the big empty (w. meredith glynn)

SAM Dean, that isn’t what this is about. Jack needs to get out. He needs to get some air. We all do. He’s a good kid. He is, just… give him a chance, please. For me.

dean surely can't resist that

JACK So I can be your “interdimensional can opener”? You’re using me. SAM Jack… when you were born, it ripped a hole in reality. Like a—like a door from this world to another, to a… a really bad, bad place. So—so Dean and Cas, and I, we—we closed that door. But… our Mom, Mary, she’s trapped on the other side. If we can get your powers back, maybe we can open that door up. Maybe…

hadn't really thought about but i wouldn't put it past sam of days gone by if he desperately needed something to only play nice to get what he wanted

SAM Yeah. Yeah, I do. But… if this doesn’t work, if that can’t happen, that’s okay, because I do care about you. But I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. It’s a lot and, uh… JACK Dean can’t even look at me. He wants to kill me. SAM I won’t let that happen. Listen, if there’s one thing that Dean respects, it’s effort. So come along. Help us out. Let’s go be the good guys.

i guess it speaks to my feelings about the show right now but i'm so sick of this thing over jack between sam and dean. the only sliver of an upside is hearing sam talk about dean a lot

DEAN All right, well, you said you wanted to help, so, uh… dig. SAM Dean, what’s up with all the orders? You’re starting to sound like Dad.

ooh, burn. i laughed

DEAN That a bad thing? SAM I’m just saying his—his drill sergeant act worked with you… but it didn’t work with me. And that’s not the way we’re gonna get through to Jack.

tell him, sam. but also, samuel. you essentially invited a large toddler to come, it's gonna be a lot of legit babysitting the way they're making this character behave. it's like vacation with kids. it's less work to stay at home 🤪

DEAN That’s right, and what gets burned… stays dead

or not 🤪🤪🤪 so did people know cas was coming back when this season started?

ah we've seen this lady before, she was in 7x07 and i hiky'd her because she's in yellowjackets (rukiya bernard as simone abara)

rolling my eyes at the family therapy with jack along cover. dean continues to be an asshole about jack and he's fucking up their cover by being an ass and i kind of want to punch him

DEAN Because if he admits it, then it’s real. If it’s real, then he has to deal with it, and he can’t handle that. SAM Right, because this is so easy for you, uh? DEAN No, it’s not easy. SAM Yeah, but at least you had a relationship with Mom. I mean, who would she always call? Who did she look to for everything? DEAN Okay. SAM You had something with her I never had! And now I’m just supposed to accept that I never will have it?

oh, sammy. dean only had a few scraps too, fighting over crumbs

MIA You just upset your brother so much, he had to leave the room. And Jack? Look at him. He’s terrified of you. DEAN Nah. No, we’re simpatico. Right, kid? JACK We’re simpatico. MIA Convincing. You’re angry, Dean. DEAN And? MIA And if you don’t want to do anything about it, that’s your business. But you’re aiming it at everyone in your life.

the way they're learning into him being an asshole, hope it means it'll taper off soon.

good god what is this voice/accent big empty entity fake cas

COSMIC ENTITY That’s not part of the deal. No, no. Besides, you don’t want to go back. CASTIEL Yes, I do. Sam and Dean need me. COSMIC ENTITY Oh, save it. I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. (Whispers) I know who you love… what you fear. There is nothing for you back there. No. Here. Let me show you. [We see some FLASHBACKS: METATRON stealing CASTIEL’s grace; LUCIFER killing CASTIEL; CASTIEL walking into the lake after the LEVIATHANS took over; CASTIEL returning the souls he stole from Purgatory; CASTIEL lying on the floor, seemingly dead, after returning the souls.]

thanks for the details, transcriber, i wasn't sure what those all were. i thought it was cas stealing whoever else's. not sure i understand where they're going with the "i know who you love and what you fear there's nothing for you on earth" business. feeling guilty for his fuckups? being resurrected so many times? i don't get it

we get the reassurance from a good monster lady and certified freak sam for jack now :p i did like the "even monsters can do good in the world" line though

well i'm glad the shifter didn't stay as dean very long because we went down that road in s1, no need to revisit :p

COSMIC ENTITY Come on, Castiel! Wouldn’t you rather be a fond memory than a constant, festering disappointment?

okay, fuckups it is. (how about shoutout to breaking sam's wall lalala)

DEAN (to Jack) You gotta snap these cuffs. JACK I can’t. DEAN Yes, you can. DEAN Sammy believes in you, and when he believes, he’ll go Hell for leather…

well, saving sammy's life is a surefire way to earn some points with dean

DEAN Hey. You did good today, Jack.

all right, next let's keep up the better-than-john parenting going

DEAN Listen, man, back at, uh, Mia’s, I was out of line. I’m sorry for being a… a dick lately. SAM Thanks. DEAN And maybe you’re right, about the kid. I mean, he tries. I’ll give him that. And he tapped his powers, saved our ass, so that’s a win. SAM Yeah. I guess. DEAN What’s up? SAM What if you’re right? About Mom. What if she is dead, and I’m just in denial? DEAN Don’t say that. SAM What? You’ve been wanting me to admit that since it happened. DEAN I know I have, but don’t say that. I need you to keep the faith, for both of us. ‘Cause right now, I… Right now, I don’t believe in a damn thing.

at least you're acknowledging the cognitive dissonance, dean-o :p

and i guess cas get back to earth by virtue of annoying the empty entity, okay. i briefly had some feelings with the music swelling when cas woke up in the field however then it turned into panflute?? and the feelings were gone :p which leads into this...

was watching the last little bit of e3 where cas wakes up and the soundtrack gets different/a little interesting - has this choral element that reminds me a bit of the (far superior) musical score in the expanse. the title sequence makes me weep lol. anyway, the spn thing, the voices transition into strings-ish? but i wonder if the score was all done electronically, or how much was done with instrumentation. i know nuts and bolts of how a couple smaller tv and movie score composers work, but i don't know what the norm is - especially on a (i presume) lower budget show. and i wondered if that's why it often feels flat. i dunno. he just switches up genres and sounds with no real rhyme or reason, sometimes i think it sounds like he heard someone do something cool and then sorta.. cribs it, and we get the knockoff. sigh. this poor dude. raggin on him almost daily.

i'm the opposite of effective at getting anyone to ever watch anything, but really. it's such a good show, from start to finish.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 13x04 #spn musical score #spnwhinge #less whinging than previous couple i guess #spnhiky #rukiya bernard #meredith glynn #this has become so pointless but what can i do but keep going #Youtube #jay gruska

[lengthofropes]

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

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

*

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

*

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

#destiel #destiel angst #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #cas pov #tw car accident #angst with a happy ending #prompt by the wonderful bamboo thank you again and happy birthday!! #bluefirecas #queenrowena #userpris #tearsofgrace #rambleoncas #oh writing my writing #PLEASE FORGIVE MEDICAL INACCURACIES IF FOUND i am a self professed fool #also please forgive bad writing. i hadn't written in WEEKS when i wrote this #long post