for the spotify writing game: 12!
spotify wrapped writing game: 12 - ready for it. taylor swift
send me a number 1-100 and i’ll write a fic based on that song on my top 100 playlist. requested by @lookforanewangle and @darthbecky726
stealing hearts - 3.7k, destiel au, thieves, this was supposed to be a short fic but i got carried away and now i’m obsessed, tempted to make a series out of this, my first au!
Dean doesn’t understand rich people. Why does someone even need a mansion? Or priceless jewelry collections? Or security teams with really big guns?
Well, that might be an exaggeration. The jewels aren’t priceless. Dean is very aware of how much they’re worth. It’s his job to know that. More than his job, really.
Helping people. Stealing things. It’s the family business. John Winchester was an obsessed bastard, but he was also a great thief. And he made sure his sons were better thieves.
The detailing at the top of the mansion’s stone columns catch the flood lights and barely manage to hide the security cameras. He winks at one as he circles the back of the property. “Charlie, am I good?” he mutters under his breath.
“Yep,” the hacker pipes up over the comms, “I’ve got the cameras, so you’re good to go, boss.”
Walking around to the side door and the big guy guarding it, Dean holds up his security badge and gives his best smile. “Hey, the boss wants me to double check everything in the back before the main event starts.”
The guy manning the door frowns. “Again? Mick just did a walkthrough.”
Dean shrugs. “I don’t know, man. You know how Ketch gets. He’s not taking any chances.”
“Yeah, he’s been on everyone’s butt all night.” The guard looks Dean up and down, still frowning. “You new? I haven’t seen you on any details.”
“Yeah, they brought in some extra help for tonight and made me throw on a monkey suit,” he says, tugging on the collar of his jacket.
The guard scoffs. “At least you don’t have door duty. It’s the most boring gig.”
“Well, hopefully things don’t get too exciting.”
“True.” The guy opens the door and steps aside. “Alright, you have a good night.”
“Thanks, man. You too.”
As soon as the door closes behind him, Dean checks his watch. 7:24pm. Six minutes until the next change in security. Thirty-six until the jewels are put on display for the event. “Alright, I’m in.”
“Okay,” Sam’s voice cuts through the comms, “I’m headed to the back. Meet you at the elevator.”
Dean counts each second as he makes his way down the hall, each step timed to keep him out of the circuit of security guards and panning cameras. His dress shoes click on the hard floor, echoing down the empty corridor toward the basement elevator, distant from the actual festivities. The mansion was a freaking marble maze.
He glances at his watch again. 7:27pm. He walks a little faster.
When Sam meets him at the elevator, Dean chuckles. “Nice hairnet.”
Sam scowls at him, unclipping his kitchen staff badge from his uniform. “Next time, you get kitchen duty and I get to wear the suit.”
“Be my guest. I look great in a hairnet.”
“Whatever.” Sam steps up to the security panel. “You got the audio?”
“Yep.” Dean holds up his phone. “You got the thumbprint?”
“Got it,” Sam says, taking the skinniest wine glass Dean has ever seen out of his jacket. How can someone even drink out of that?
As Sam transfers the thumbprint to a glove, Dean checks the time to see it switch to 7:29pm. “Come on, man. We got one minute til security’s gonna be walking through again.”
“I got it. Chill.” Sam presses the print to scanner, and Dean holds his breath.
Two green lights blink on. When the screen asks for the voice prompt, he hits play on the phone. The seconds after Ketch’s voice prattles in his dumb accent feel like an eternity. He should be well past heist jitters, but Dean’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.
The light turns green, and Dean releases his breath. He types in the password Charlie texted him, and the elevator doors slide open. As they step inside, Dean looks at his watch. 7:30pm.
The guards walk by just as the doors close.
The elevator moves slow, programmed by Charlie to not reach the basement until security has passed through. Dean leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, taking a moment to breathe.
The job isn’t that different from their usual gigs. The Stein family is bad news. They’ve hurt a lot of people, and they need to be taken down. But they’re also connected to a lot of worse people, bigger than they’ve taken on before. And Dean can’t help but feel like they’re about to get into something they’re not ready for.
The doors open and they’re moving. Charlie directs them down the hall, with a few jumps into side rooms to avoid the rounds of security guards.
“Alright,” Dean says, taking the necklace replica out of his pocket, “Bela said this should buy us some time until they actually check—”
An alarm pierces the air, and Dean’s blood runs cold. He looks back at the door, praying no one runs in. “Charlie?”
“It’s a fire alarm, so not us.” Fierce typing carries through the comms. “The smoke detectors aren’t showing anything. No reports of anything.”
“So someone probably set it off,” Sam says.
Dean nods. “We need to move.”
“There aren’t any guards between you and the necklace,” Charlie says, “Go.”
They break into a run.
The room where the jewels are being kept on standby for the event has a gold door. Dean doesn’t even stop to judge it before pushing it open. He breathes out a curse.
The jewels are already on their display, waiting to be carried out to the party. Emeralds, rubies, and a freaking bejeweled dagger are arranged around the centerpiece: the biggest diamond necklace Dean has ever seen.
And this is just what they’re showing people tonight, Dean thinks. He can’t imagine what the actual jewel room is like.
“Alright, give me the fake,” Sam says, pushing past him. The lock holding the necklace to the display had been custom engineered for this event. Fortunately, they know a smart kid named Kevin that can reverse engineer almost anything.
Sam unlocks it with Kevin’s key and holds the necklace out to Dean without looking up. Dean takes care in taking it and tucking it in the inner pocket of his suit jacket, handing Sam the replica. The fire alarm still blares.
“Okay.” Sam clicks the lock shut. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Uh oh,” Charlie pipes up.
“Uh oh?” Dean falters. “What’s uh oh?”
“Looks like we got company.”
Sam and Dean look at each other. This can not be happening. “What kind of company?”
“Hello, Dean,” a deep voice speaks behind them. “Sam.”
Dean curses under his breath. Great. Just perfect. He whirls around with a smile. “Hey, Cas. Didn’t expect to see you here. You look good.”
Castiel. An experienced thief and con man, much like Dean. Except where Dean and Sam depend on Charlie’s creative banking, he has the backing of a very powerful and very shady criminal empire.
Cas’s blue eyes flick past him to the display. The tuxedo fits him perfectly, doing a lot for his shoulders. Dean tries to ignore it. “Thank you. I’m assuming you’re here for the diamonds as well?”
Dean nods. “Yep. And as you can see, we were here first.”
“True, but given that this isn’t an elementary school playground, that doesn’t hold much merit.”
Here’s the thing. Dean likes Cas, professionally speaking. He’s good at his job, and he’s a funny guy when he wants to be. And even more so when he doesn’t.
“Come on, man. I saved your skin back in San Diego. Doesn’t that get me something?”
Cas frowns. “My actions in Bogotá more than made up for that. You would still be in a Colombian prison if it wasn’t for me. Or worse.”
“What do your people want with this necklace anyway? Did your boss even tell you?”
Cas’s jaw tightens. “That is none of your concern, Dean.”
“Oh yeah, right. I’m convinced now.” Dean waves a dramatic arm toward the necklace. “Go ahead and take it.”
“I will take it.” Cas takes a step forward.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Uh, guys?” Charlie speaks up, “The events team and security are on their way to get the jewels.”
Cas turns back towards the hall and curses. “She’s right. We need to go.”
Checking the necklace in his jacket, Dean follows him down the hall with Sam close behind. “Dude, did you tap into our comms?”
“Of course I did.”
As they run down the hall, Dean realizes the fire alarm has stopped ringing. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” he hisses at Cas.
They’re almost to the elevator when the door dings. “Guys, get out of the hall,” Charlie says, urgent. “Get out of the hall now.”
“Crap.” Dean clamps a hand on Cas’s arm and yanks him through the nearest door as Sam takes another one.
It becomes painfully obvious that Dean has made a critical mistake. They’re in a closet, a small one. Cas glares at him, face inches away, faintly lit by the light from the hall. They’re pressed chest to chest, crowded in by shelves, and Dean can feel Cas’s breath on his face.
Here’s the thing. Dean likes Cas a lot. He’s actually a nice guy, something Dean had not been expecting given the guy’s line of work and choice of coworkers. He’s funny and really good at his job. And he’s also really hot.
And now Dean is stuck in a closet with him, staring into those big, blue eyes like an idiot, with the risk of being caught hanging over their heads. It’s like a dream and a nightmare all at once. He can almost guarantee Cas can feel his heart pounding in his chest.
They wait for the event coordinator to pass by, blabbing about the schedule to his assistants. Cas shifts, and Dean makes the mistake of looking down at his throat as he swallows.
“I thought,” Dean’s voice cracks, trying to keep it low, “I thought after we pulled off that job in Philly together, we’d be good.”
Cas sighs, eyes flicking across Dean’s face. “I would like us to be good…but I have a job to do.”
“So do I. Come on, Cas, you gotta understand. We’re trying to help people. I’ve got a client, and the money from this necklace is gonna help people. Help me out here.”
“It’s not that simple. You know who I answer to. You know what they’re like.”
“Which is exactly my point. They suck. Did they really send you to do this job alone? This is not a one man job. What cover did you blow getting an invite to this? ‘Cause you’re not gonna be able to show your face here again.” Dean huffs and moves his hand only to smack it against a shelf, wincing. “They’re not good, Cas. And they’re not good for you. Don’t you want to get out of it?”
“It’s not my job to want things, Dean.”
“Oh, come on. That’s a load of crap. Isn’t there something you want?”
Cas stares up at him, quiet for a moment, something intense and a little wild in his eyes. “Yes.”
Wait. Dean sucks in a breath. Oh.
Here’s the thing. Dean is a good thief and a good liar. He can spin a tale and sell a bit to anyone. He can talk someone’s ear off about something he knows absolutely nothing about.
He’s not good at this. Telling the truth. Being earnest. He keeps that close to his chest, locked away, because that’s how you mess up a job. That’s how you get burned.
But Cas is the most earnest person he’s ever met. Those blue eyes cut straight through him, like he’s looking straight at his soul, like he sees him.
Dean opens and closes his mouth. “Cas…”
“You look very nice,” Cas says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What?” Dean’s head reels from the whiplash of this conversation. His cheeks grow hot. “It’s just a suit. I look like I always do.”
“Well, you always look very nice.”
The security detail marches by, boots stomping down the hall, and Dean flinches. His fingers brush against Cas’s wrist. He wishes he could reach out and feel the pulse underneath, see if it jumps under his touch.
He looks back at Cas’s face to find him still staring at him. Those blue eyes drop to his lips.
And suddenly Dean’s heart is trying to leap out of his chest, pounding faster than it has all night. The blood rushes through his veins, adrenaline lighting him up like no job has before. He feels like he’s rappelling down a building and racing down a city street and sprinting across a roof all at once.
I’m not good at this, he thinks, but I want to be.
He takes Cas’s face in his hands and kisses him. A slow press, not too hard although his hands are shaking. Cas gasps under the touch and Dean breathes him in.
So that’s what his hair feels like, Dean thinks in a daze, running one hand through the ever-tousled hair, That’s what he tastes like.
Cas melts into him, wrapping arms around him to pull him in closer, humming into his mouth. Dean is a rocket. He’s about to shoot into the sky.
Footsteps pass by, and Dean pulls back with a gasp. They’re taking the display upstairs to the party, but he can’t bring himself to care.
He cradles Cas’s face in his hands, holding him close. “Come with me.” He presses another kiss to his lips. “I’ll take care of you. Come with us.”
Cas pants against his lips. “I can’t. They won’t let me go. They’d never stop hunting us.”
“Like we’re not already on the run all the time.
Cas shakes his head. “Not like this. It’s too dangerous.”
It already is. Dean tightens his hold on him. He wants to shake him, knock it into his head, convince him to run away with him. “Cas—”
“I didn’t come alone,” Cas says quickly.
“What?” Dean blanches.
“They sent Uriel as insurance. He’s upstairs, waiting to intercept you.”
“And by intercept, you mean pound me to a pulp.”
“Essentially, yes.” Cas shifts out of his hold and takes a keycard out of his jacket pocket. “There’s a service stairwell at the east side of the basement. This card will unlock it.”
Dean takes it reluctantly. “What are you gonna tell your boss?”
“That you took it from me,” Cas murmurs, eyes hooded as they drop to Dean’s mouth, “because you’re a very good thief.”
Dean sways into him. “You really think they’re gonna believe that?”
“I’m not sure, but that’s a risk we’ll have to take.”
“Our next job,” Dean blurts out, “It’s in Manhattan.”
“You shouldn’t be telling me that.”
“I want you to know.” Dean wants to kiss him again, so he does. “I want you to be there. I want to see you there.” His voice drops to a whisper.
“Dean…” Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Okay.” Dean nods, trying not to let his face drop. “That’s okay. I get it.”
Cas sighs and presses him back against the shelves, kissing him deep. And Dean lets him in willingly. One of Cas’s hand curves around his jaw, fingers splaying out to hold him, and Dean shivers.
Cas draws back, pressing a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips as he tries to follow him. “Everyone has gone upstairs,” he says, voice rough. I did that, Dean thinks distantly. “We should go.”
“Right.” Dean nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Where are you gonna go?”
“Back to the party. You should leave before Uriel finds you.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Dean doesn’t move to leave. Cas is warm against him and Dean wants to press into him again, bask in the warmth. Maybe if they just stayed here, no one would find them.
“Uh, guys?” Sam’s voice startles Dean, and he curses. The comms. He completely forgot about the comms. Which means Sam and Charlie definitely heard everything. His face burns.
“Yeah, Sammy, what?” His voice cracks, and he cringes even more, unable to look at Cas
“Sorry, but Cas is right. We should head out while it’s clear.”
“Yeah.” Dean nods, desperately trying to sound normal, “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”
He puts a hand on the doorknob, but stops to look at Cas. His hair is even more of a mess and oh god his face is flushed, the blush spreading down his neck. His eyes are wide and watching Dean, unsure.
Can’t have that, Dean thinks and leans in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Ready, sweetheart?”
Cas’s smile is a small thing, and Dean feels like he won the biggest score. “Yes.”
When Dean opens the door, Sam is leaning against the wall, a huge grin on his face. Dean could punch him.
“You guys good?” Sam asks, way too smug.
“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Are you?”
“A little traumatized, but I’ll be good.”
“Shut up,” Dean says, his face growing hot again.
Cas steps forward, the calm smile a stark contrast from his disheveled hair. His holds out a hand to Sam. “It was good seeing you, Sam.”
“Yeah, you too, man.” Sam shakes his hand, glancing at Dean. “Hope we see you again. Maybe under better circumstances.”
Cas looks over at Dean. “So do I.”
Dean’s mouth goes dry as he opens it. What does he even say after all that? “Yeah,” he croaks. Wow, real smooth, Winchester.
Cas’s eyes soften and he nods. Turning away, he makes his way to the elevator. Dean watches his shoulders shift with each step, and he wants to ask him to come with them again.
Sam claps a hand on his shoulder, breaking him out of his reverie and turning him around. “Let’s go, man.”
Dean slaps his hand away. “I’m good.”
“Sure you are.” Sam’s smirk fades and he’s quiet for a moment as they walk. “Cas is a good guy. I’d want him with us, too.”
“Yeah,” Dean mutters. He can’t decide if tonight was a win or a loss. His lips buzz, but his hand flexes at his side, missing the feeling of a warm pulse underneath.
The van is parked a good distance from the mansion, so it’s a long trek. When they finally get there, the door slides open to reveal Charlie’s grinning face. “Well, looks like one of us got lucky in more ways than one.”
Dean can’t help the smile spreading across his face. He did, didn’t he? He shrugs, some of his old bravado coming back. “What can I say? When you got it you got it.”
He reached inside his jacket to get the diamonds—
And his hand wraps around nothing.
His heart drops. Wait. He reaches in the other side. Nothing. He opens his jacket all the way, pats down all of his pockets. “No, no, no.”
Sam’s and Charlie’s eyes grow wide.
“You’re kidding,” Sam says.
“I swear I had it in here.” Dean reaches around in his jacket again. “You gave it to me and I put it in here and I…”
And then he was pressed against Cas is a closet. And they kissed. And Cas’s hands slid under his jacket.
“Dude.” Charlie looks torn between yelling and laughing. “Are you telling me your boyfriend stole the necklace from you?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean hisses, “but…maybe.”
“You’re an idiot,” Sam says, “And I knew Cas made you an idiot, but I didn’t know it was this bad?”
Dean groans and drops his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I let him play me.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Charlie says, spinning in her chair, “I think he still likes you. He just also stole from you.”
“Yeah.” Dean trudges toward the van. “‘Cause he’s the best.” He’s freaking perfect. This is so not fair.
“Alright, let’s get out of here and get you some pie, Romeo.”
* * *
Dean takes a long drink of his beer, watching the Manhattan traffic pass by down below from his hotel window. Their mark is just across the street. The building’s blueprints are spread out on the table behind him.
There’s a knock at the door, and Dean sighs. He sets the drink down, careful to keep it on the coaster and away from the plans.
“Dude,” he calls as he walks to the door, “did you forgot your key again?”
He peeks through the peephole, but there’s no one there. He frowns. Well, this is a good way to get mugged or killed.
Fortunately, Charlie is a wizard and has the hotel’s security cameras at her mercy. Dean takes out his phone and pulls up the hall camera. Still no one.
He squints at the picture. There’s a package at the door. Huh.
He opens the door and looks down at it. It’s small, nondescript. “You better not be a bomb.”
Glancing up and down the hall, Dean picks it up and takes it inside, kicking the door closed behind him. That’s when he sees the note.
There’s a small piece of paper taped to the top. D + C scrawled in neat, familiar handwriting, and Dean stops in his tracks. He rushes back to the door and flings it open, stepping out into the hall. His eyes strain like if he looks hard enough, those blue eyes will appear.
Heart racing, he goes back inside and sets the box on the table. His hands shake a little as he opens it. There’s an ungodly amount of bubble wrap, but when he unwraps it all, Dean freezes.
Emeralds. Rubies. A dagger. It’s the Stein collection save for the diamond necklace.
There’s another note folded carefully in the bottom of the box. Unfolding it, Dean handles it with more care than he had with the jewels.
It’s not the necklace, but maybe these will help :)
Dean stares at the paper. He put a smiley face, he thinks distantly, running his thumb over the writing. His chest feels tight.
I think I’m in love with him.
Dean drops into a chair and presses his forehead to the table. He laughs at himself. I’m so screwed.
It’s cliche. It’s stupid. A thief getting his heart stolen. But he supposes that’s what makes Castiel a great thief, being able to pull off something like that.
He raises his head and looks at the emeralds shining back at him. He looks at the careful curve of the smiley face, the ink a little smudged.
Maybe—Dean hopes, he prays—maybe he managed to steal something too.
writing tag list pt. 1 (ask to be added or removed)
@10x02 @alivedean @alex-is-a-boy-b-tch @bixlasagna @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @blue-moon-elf @brokenyouth @butchnatural @carvereracas @casblackfeathers @castiel-for-lunch @castiel-is-a-cat @castielevermore @castielsbeeslippers @ccstiel @clouds-starlight @destieldisaster @destielfactory @destielinimpala @donestiel @donvex @dstiel @ensignabby @expectingtofly @feraladoration @folklorecas @fireghost-x @galaxies-of-the-heart @galaxycastiel @good-things-do-happen-dean @heller-swift @himitsutsubasa @how-the-feathers-have-fallen @ialwaysordericedcoffee @immortalcas @im-sam-fucking-winchester @itsshadowdancer23 @jackles-acting-choices @lalisfandoms @lateral-org @littlewolf2703 @llamasdumpsterfire @martymar1963 @miniaturereviewmaker @mishha @mochadean @mostly-marauders-headcanons @mrswatermelon
124 notes · View notes