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jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 4 months

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Something Stupid

Just a one shot coda to Red Meat (11x17) that I'm not sure how to tag. It's not explicitly wincest but it's also not not wincest, you know? Weirdly close, boundaries what boundaries sort of thing.

Sam/Dean, but also maybe more Sam&Dean, idek, they do kiss but it's not that kind of kiss, except maybe it kinda is??? Honestly, your guess is as good as mine.

words: 2765

read it on AO3

~~~

It was a nineteen hour drive back to the Bunker, they did it in seventeen. Dean insisted on driving the whole way, with only the fewest necessary pit stops to piss and refuel. And even with long hours of sleep to the soothing rumble of the Impala, better than any skeezy Magic Fingers bed as far as Sam was concerned, he gave a groaning sigh of relief when he unfolded himself from the passenger seat and stood, carefully stretching, in the Men of Letters garage.

“How’s the side?” Dean asked, eyes on Sam’s stomach, where he’d had to dig a bullet out of him less than two days ago, as he opened the trunk and grabbed out their duffles.

“Sore, but, uh, the meds are still doing their thing, so, not too bad.”

Dean quietly grunted and gave a nod.

Sam knew, before he offered, that Dean wouldn’t let him carry his own bag, so he wasn’t surprised by the gruff, “I got it,” as his brother shut the trunk and started around towards him and the stairs down into the rest of the Bunker.

He still didn’t know what Dean had done while they’d been separated back in Grangeville, but he knew him and couldn’t help but see the extra weight he was carrying that was affecting him way more than a couple of duffle bags. He turned and fell into step beside him.

“You okay?” he asked.

A rapid flash of emotion played over Dean’s face before it settled into a weary smile.

Huh, his faking it smile used to be so much brighter, and the thought rolled over Sam in a wave of loss.

“We’re home, I’m good.” Dean said through the smile that was still miles away from his eyes. The emphasis on the first word wasn’t lost on Sam.

They both took the stairs a little slow, stiff and sore. Dean’s left knee audibly crunching as he bent it, something that had started up a couple of years ago. He insisted it didn’t hurt, that it sounded worse than it felt, but on days like today Sam silently doubted him.

Dean set both bags down on the map table and rested his hands on them for a moment. Normally, when they returned from a hunt, they’d both sort their stuff, throw a load of the grossest clothes into the washing machine, and put their gear away before crashing. Sometimes though, the crashing came first and Sam definitely felt like this was one of those times. He started to move off towards the hallway that led to his room.

“You hungry?” Dean asked suddenly, pulling Sam up short. “We’ve barely eaten in days. Come on, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

Sam wasn’t hungry, not even remotely, and he was fairly certain that Dean wasn’t either.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good,” he said anyway.

Dean tilted his head towards the doorway that led to the kitchen and started to walk the long way around the map table ensuring that Sam would be ahead of him, where he could see him. Something clicked, even when his eyes had been on the road, driving back to the bunker, Dean hadn’t really looked away from Sam, always keeping him in his periphery, his gaze flicking over to verify that his brother was actually there and still breathing. And he was still doing it, still keeping Sam where he could see him, like he was afraid that if he took his eyes off of him for more than a moment, Sam would somehow vanish.

They’d both had so many (too many) close calls, brushes with death, some of which were painted in fast, broad, vague strokes, an impression of the end. While some were full, layered, oil paintings with photo-realistic detailing, way too real to just shrug off. Sam got it, he understood the struggle to settle and accept that they’d managed to slip past Death one more time, that they were both still here, still together.

So he wandered into the kitchen, Dean right on his heels. And as Dean busied himself throwing together a couple of sandwiches, Sam pulled two beers from the fridge, because even though he had no idea what time it actually was, they’d been up for so long, so fucking long, and the beer would help wash down the sandwiches. Sam ate his without tasting anything, mechanically, methodically consuming it simply to make Dean happy. They ate in companionable silence.

Still, the worry about what Dean may have done (definitely did) was beginning to loom up around them again, awkward and ominous. He found he didn’t have the energy to deal with it right then. He cleared his throat.

“Iron Maiden’s playing in Chicago next week, think we could still get tickets?”

Dean nodded, thinking about that, “Yeah, worth a try, and, uh, Scorpions is gonna be in St. Louis in May. 50th anniversary tour. That’d be cool to see.”

It was Sam’s turn to nod. “Wow, fifty years. That’s, that’s a long run.”

Dean lifted his beer, “To old guys who still rock.”

Sam huffed out a laugh and clicked his bottle against Dean’s, but as he drained the rest of his beer, his thoughts were on how impossibly exhausting forty more years of their own brand of rocking felt.

When they were done and had cleaned up, Dean looked at him. “How’re you doing?”

“Tired.”

“Yeah, me too. Come on, off to bed with you.”

Sam wandered towards his room, Dean right beside him still. When they got to the point where they’d have to separate to go to their rooms, Dean asked, “You good to get that bandage changed before you crash?”

“I, uh, I forgot to grab the kit, would you mind...”

“Yep. Get changed, I’ll be right back.”

In his room, Sam stripped out of his jeans and underwear, replacing them with a clean pair of shorts and sweatpants. Dean strolled in as Sam was pulling his tee shirt over his head, packs of gauze pads, medical tape, and a tube of antibiotic ointment in hand.

“Whoa, look at you. You’re basically one big bruise.”

Sam grimaces as he lowers his left arm back down. “Yep. That’ll happen when you get thrown through a table by a werewolf and then shot.”

Dean began carefully peeling off the old gauze. “Yeah, but then you took down three of them after being mostly dead all night.”

Sam sucked a sharp breath through his teeth as the part of the bandage that was stuck to the scabbed over wound pulled free. “After I killed that first one.”

Dean dabs at Sam’s stitched up bullet wound with the ointment and then peels open a fresh, sterile gauze pad

“So that’s four for me and…”

Dean places the gauze against Sam’s side, grabs his left hand and places it over the gauze, holding it in place while he rips a piece of tape.

“... and, uh, one for you.”

Instead of getting annoyed at Sam’s competitive tone, Dean just grins proudly up at him. “Yeah, you did good, Sammy.”

He finished taping the gauze and then tidied up as Sam tugged a clean shirt over his head.

“Think fast.”

Despite feeling like he’d been thrown through a table, shot, and then came dangerously close to bleeding out, Sam managed to catch the pill bottle that Dean had tossed at him. He sat down on the side of his bed and twisted off the cap. Dean got him a glass of water from the sink and he washed down a pill and handed the glass back to Dean, who sat it back by the sink and then turned and leaned back against the porcelain.

Sam pulled the covers down and carefully laid down on his right side, which put his back towards Dean. The fact that Dean hadn’t excused himself from the room, Sam could tell he was still leaning against the sink, confirmed Sam’s suspicions from earlier that his brother wasn’t ready to be alone.

“Quite lurking by the door.” He patted the mattress.

Dean didn’t move.

“Dean?”

“Hmm.”

“Just sit down and talk to me for a bit.”

“What do you want me to talk about?” he asked, but he walked around the bed and sat down against the headboard. He still had his boots on, so he kept his right foot on the floor and bent his left leg so that his foot hung off the side of the bed, he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Anything. Uh, you still want to go see Batman vs. Superman?”

“Pfft! Yeah.”

“Even with Affleck as Batman?”

Sam didn’t care about the movie, but he knew that Dean had thoughts about it so that was all it took to get his brother talking. Sam just mmhmm’ed and uh-huh’ed along until Dean lapsed back into silence. Sam would have been asleep by then, but there was that worrying little thought he still couldn’t quite shake.

“What did you do? Seriously, I know you. You know I know you. And I know that had to be… I know what it feels like, Dean.” He waited, this was the moment, Dean was either going to leave or he’d start talking.

Finally, his brother nodded his head, just a little, and started picking at a hangnail.

“Nothing good. It’s never anything good. It’s like I… I can’t… like all the good choices are just gone and only the stupid ones are left.”

When it became clear that Dean wasn’t going to say anything more, Sam gently asked, “You gonna tell me about it?”

“No. No, I don’t think I am. I just, you’re all I’ve… ”

Sam waited again to see if he’d finish. After a few long moments he sighed and softly said, “I know. You too, you know? For me. Things are, uh, they’re harder when you’re… when you’re gone. They, uh, they get…”

“Bleak.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed and pushed his hand a little closer to Dean, stopping an inch or two from his leg, just letting his hand rest on top of the covers.

“So what do we do?”

Dean cut his eyes to the side and looked at Sam. “About what?”

“Well, we, uh, we either need to stop dying, which…”

Dean scoffed, “What’re the odds of that happening?”

“Right? Or… or we need to figure out how to make better choices when… when things get bleak.”

“Sam, I… I can’t.” There was a finality to his voice that broke something in Sam, another crack in his foundation that caused him to cant a little bit more towards his brother. Some days it felt like all he was was sloppily patched and cobbled together frame-work that should, by all rights, have collapsed by now.

“Dear boy, you're all duct tape and safety pins inside. How are you alive?”

He had lost count of all the times Vesta’s words had echoed through his thoughts over the years. But the fact of the matter was that he was still alive because Dean was alive, because his brother wouldn’t, couldn’t let him be dead.

The silence stretched on. He knew that the way things were going, the way their lives went, one or both of them was bound to get killed again, and there was never a guarantee of another resurrection, or of getting yet another do-over. At some point their story would end and the thought that he was going to lose his brother made it hard to breathe.

Dean shifted and for a moment Sam thought he was going to get up and go. But instead, Dean relaxed his arms so that his left hand came to rest beside his leg, his pinky brushing feather-light against the tips of Sam’s fingers.

“I should let you get some rest.”

Before he’d even finished talking, Sam had curled his fingers around Dean’s.

“Stay.” His heart lurched and he softly added. “I don’t want to be alone.” And he meant there in the room and right then and there, he did, but he was also speaking to his fears for the future. But he wasn’t ready to talk about that, didn’t know if he ever would be.

A tremor ran through his brother’s hand before he gave Sam’s fingers a squeeze. And Sam didn’t think he’d imagined the catch in Dean’s voice as he said, “Yeah, okay. Until you fall asleep.” So maybe Dean had heard the deeper meaning anyway.

Exhaustion took him almost immediately and for the first time in a long, long time he slept soundly, unbothered by dreams or nightmares.

When he woke up, he was still on his side, he hadn’t moved at all, which confirmed how soundly he’d slept. Usually, he tossed and turned, waking up enough to note the passing time every two hours or so.

He moved his hand to wipe the drool from the side of his mouth and found that his fingers were still entwined with Dean’s. He blinked his eyes open and was met with his brother’s eyes, already open and looking at him from where he was curled up under the covers on the other side of the bed.

“Please tell me you haven’t just been laying there watching me sleep.” He joked as his eyes shut and he yawned.

“I can’t lose you.” Dean’s voice was quiet and low, rough with too much emotion and Sam was surprised to see tears welling up when he opened his eyes again.

Before he could react though, Dean reached up and wiped the corner of Sam’s mouth, catching the remnants of drool with his thumb and giving a small fond smile that broke through the sadness like the sun shining through gaps in a cloud filled sky. His eyes flicked down to watch as he rubbed his fingertips together. When they were dry he looked back at Sam, his eyes tracing along the features of his face, and he brushed Sam’s hair back, his fingers curling around the back of his head. Dean pulled Sam forward as he leaned in and placed a kiss on his forehead. It was a slow press that lingered for a long moment. Sam’s heart caught in his throat. When Dean pulled back, it was only far enough to tip his own head down until their foreheads and noses were touching and they were breathing each other’s air.

Dean’s thumb rubbed gently, back and forth, against Sam’s cheek. His eyes were moving, too close to focus but like he was trying to take in every detail anyway. He smoothed Sam’s hair back from his face again and then started to pull him even closer.

“What? What’re you…” Sam started.

“Something stupid.” Dean whispered as he let his eyes fall shut and pressed their lips together.

Sam’s heart was pounding, his mind reeling.

He knew that Dean must have kissed him at some point when they were kids. Kisses goodnight, that was a thing that little kids did, right? So surely it must have happened. But he couldn’t remember a single occurrence, not once in his memory. And now, in the span of just a moment, his brother had kissed him twice. He was kissing him. Right then, Dean was kissing him. It was a simple, closed mouth kiss, that may have been chaste and innocent if, you know, they were the type of family that kissed, at all. But even then, Dean was shaking. He was shaking and he hitched a breath in as he parted his lips just as he started to pull away.

“I’m sorry.” Dean said as the shaking increased, a clear note of panic creeping into his voice.

All at once, the shock that had frozen Sam in place was gone and he grabbed Dean’s head with both hands, holding him in place.

“Don’t be sorry. Please don’t be sorry.” He said as he pulled him back into another kiss. It wasn’t open mouthed or anything but there was an undeniable desperation to it, a fevered pitch of longing and need that Sam wasn’t even trying to wrap his head around. And when he broke away he didn’t pull away. Instead he burrowed down and tucked himself under Dean’s chin and held him even tighter. “It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re both still here, okay?”

Dean choked out a laugh. “We are so fucked up.” But he wrapped his arms around his brother and pulled him closer.

There was bound to be at least a moment of awkwardness when they untangled, Sam decided he wasn’t going to worry about that, not yet.

#wincest #gencest #wincest fanfic #gencest fanfic #spn 11x17 #spn episode coda fic #samdean

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 6 months

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Empty

There’s nothing abstract about death. No grappling with mythical concepts. No vague hopes, built on blind faith. Not for Dean Winchester, anyway. Death is a gut punch, immediate and real, and he feels its shock in every bone as he sits on the bunker’s cold floor, head in his hands.

And afterimage of Cas plays on repeat in his head. The sucking, slurping noise of the Empty taking him. Castiel’s teary smile - serene, accepting.

He’s gone.

He’s gone, and with him the chance to reply to his confession. To man the fuck up and say something, anything instead of just standing there like an idiot and, tail tucked between his legs, going for a stupid “Don’t do this.”

Love.

Loss.

He can handle both, but not like this, not in this sudden, heady, terrible mash-up of something ending when it could just have begun.

Castiel’s death cuts through Dean like an axe. He’s cleaved in half and bleeding out. No strength left to pick up the phone and answer Sam’s call. No oxygen in his brain to process that the world is ending. His muscles are deflating, skin cold, and everything that hurts is slowly growing numb.

Cas is in the Empty. Dean is empty. Hollow. Drained. A shell.

Death isn’t abstract. It’s physical. Sticky, black and consuming.

Dean cries into his hands.

Take me as well.

#suptober23 #no.15 #abstract #supernatural #spn #fanfic #coda to 15x18 #death cw #grief cw #major character death #canon compliant #dean winchester #castiel #dean sitting on the bunker floor will haunt me forever #this needed out #it’s therapeutic ok?

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fandom-hoarder · 7 months

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In 14x01, why does it seem like everyone waited til they got back to the bunker to clean up from the fight? lololol It's a 14 hour drive from Detroit to Lebanon! They drove like this?! 🤣

And why hasn't Cas healed anybody lolol help.

#spn spoilers #spn 14x01 #i wanted to write a coda but i don't think my brain can handle this. it might hafta be a fixit. or nothing.

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stusbunker · 1 year

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The Places We Hide Coda

A Smutty Coda for the 2022 DCBB fic The Places We Hide

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Human!Castiel

Summary: Dean is not waiting until they make it to California to break this tension. No matter how fucked up his leg or how awkward the conversation.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: ~5k

Warnings, etc: First time together, first time after a divorce, safe sex talk, but not in proper order, injured sex, oral, anal play, anal, Dean overthinks a lot of things, and likes things in his mouth. This is lovemaking, okay?

Read on AO3

This can totally be read as a stand alone fic, I fill in the spaces between the dots as it goes.

HUGE shout out to @thoughtslikeaminefield and @lastactiontricia for their support with this fic. Thank you to @there-must-be-a-lock for logistical help as well. xoxo Stu

Dean stares at the shelf in unfocused paranoia. He feels exposed under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the chain pharmacy and fumbling through the family planning aisle like a teenager on his way to prom, isn’t helping his nerves. He shifts on his crutches and exhales.

Cas is waiting in the car.

Cas.

The guy that fell into his life a year ago and is somehow determined not to leave Dean behind. Dean swallows and grabs the generic brand lube and a box of the good condoms. He makes his way to the check out and grabs two energy drinks from the cooler along the way. The next stretch of their drive is gonna be a bitch, and he needs something to cushion his purchase.

Once it’s his turn, he unloads everything with a perfunctory greeting.

The cashier is a wrinkled, unfazed, blue haired lady. She asks if he wants to buy their promo candy without so much of a hint of caring about what else Dean’s buying. He does because, ‘yeah, sure why not,’ is all the decision making ability he has at this point of the night.

He deals with the card reader. Then, finally, she hands him the bag and tells him to have a good night. And that’s when she winks.

Dean drops the bag and fumbles, “why— well, you too, uh, Doris. Thanks— thanks again.”

She hands the bag back to him, biting her lips in amusement.

He straightens his shoulders, hooks the bag on his wrist and works on crutching out of the automatic doors. Cas is scrolling through his phone in the passenger seat and from this angle he’s all dark hair, brooding eyebrows, and pouty lips.

Dean is so screwed.

Or he will be.

Hopefully.

Oh, Christ they haven’t even talked about this yet. He doesn’t even know what Cas likes— if he—-. Then the click of the metal of his crutches reminds him of his eviscerated Achilles’. Yep, well, looks like Dean’s catching.

For now.

He swallows and wills his dick to relax as he makes his way to his car. With his boyfriend in it. Or—- roommate at least. They haven’t really talked about any of it.

Fuck.

Dean leaves the bag on the footwell in the backseat toppled by his crutches, before he shuffles to the driver’s door and lowers himself down and over. Easier every time, he thinks.The familiar cradle of Baby’s front seat relaxes him immediately and Dean smirks over at Cas as he looks up and realizes Dean’s waiting for him now.

“Any luck?”

“Well, there’s a Motel 6 near the interstate, or the truckstop that offers 24 hour showers, but I think— or what I would prefer, at least, is—”

“Hey, just tell me where to go, you don’t hafta sell me on a warm bed,” Dean tries to reassure. But Cas goes quiet and Dean is still waiting. The colored lights of the pharmacy sign hover over the dash and Dean shifts in place, thumb drumming on the steering wheel as Cas types on his phone.

“Sorry, it’s Charlie,” he grumbles with annoyance. “You’d think she’d have time to worry about her own plans for the evening.”

Dean isn’t sure he was meant to hear the last part. Then Cas looks up and around and points. “West for four blocks, then it’s a right hand turn.”

They check in and get the standard double queen, which shows how tired Dean is that he isn’t pointing out the irony. Instead he shoves his duffel on one of the beds and drops onto the hideous coverlet of the second in a dramatic show of exhaustion.

“How’s your leg?” Cas asks, carefully lining up his suitcase next to Dean’s bag before bending over to untie his bulky hiking boots.

“Still kicking,” Dean sighs and rolls over, propping his head up on his hand as he watches Cas settle in. Cas pulls his fleece over his head and his undershirt rides up to flash Dean some stomach. The guy is fit, so much leaner than he was when Dean found him in the woods, half frozen and bleeding out.

Now Dean kind of wants another reminder of how strong Cas is after all that physical therapy. One where he isn’t hauling Dean’s ass out of a wendigo’s lair.

“You got a preference?” Dean asks, without any hinted significance.

“On?” Cas’ low voice almost buzzes.

“Side of the bed?”

“Oh,” Cas catches up, but Dean’d put money on there being something disappointing about the clarification. “Uh, I prefer to be close to the window, I like a slight breeze.”

“It’s November.” Dean reminds him. “But, uh, that actually works, I need to be by the door.”

“Need?” Cas asks as he drops down beside Dean, hand easily finding Dean’s and tracing each one of his fingers.

“Closest to the exit or any threat,” Dean explains, swallowing down a happy sigh as Cas begins to massage his palm with strong, sure thumbs.

"Always the hero,” Cas replies lowly.

“Look who’s talking,” Dean quips, unwilling to let the earnestness of Cas’ words affect him. Cas’ whole face droops and his eyes seem to sparkle in the otherwise awful orange glow of the entryway light. “Come here.”

Dean pulls Cas to his side, holding Cas’ hand over his heart and kissing him like he did the first time. Was that only last week?

It feels like a lifetime ago, with the surgeries and the doctors and the stink of antiseptic and death. But somewhere in there, Dean got to keep Cas. And Charlie too.

He nudges into Cas, drawing him closer until they’re both laying down. Dean teases the small of his back, where Cas’ shirt is bunched again. He sucks in a breath and suddenly Cas’ tongue takes over. Dean opens for him, welcoming it all.

It’s easy like this, no thoughts about the hows and whys and what are we actually. Just the feel of Cas against him, the molten heat of his mouth and the way his stubble burns as he drags it down Dean’s neck, nipping as he goes. Dean’s hand is splayed between Cas’ shoulders now, a touchstone as Cas starts to find Dean beneath his layers.

Dean lets himself be found.

It’s just what he does with Cas. And only Cas.

Months of him stalking through the woods before he found the cabin and then he just kept coming back. Dean could only send him packing so many times before he just wedged himself inside Dean’s life. Inside his soul.

Damnit. Dean pulls back for air, eyes burning, he blinks back the onslaught. He grunts as he sits up and hauls his shirts off his back, giving way to skin on skin. Distracting Dean from the very blatant reality that he’s in love— capital L— love with Cas.

Dean grabs Cas by the waist and drags them both up to the pillows. He strokes up and down Cas’ sides as Cas decides how best to straddle Dean with his injured leg seeming to take up half the bed. Then Dean gets his mouth back on him and thinking and positions are once again forgotten.

He holds Cas down, but when he tries to rut up against him his leg screams and everything goes white. Instantly the solid weight of Cas is gone and Dean is being babied once again.

"It's fine. I just gotta—-". Dean rolls and sits at the end of the bed.

"Dean? We don't have to—-."

He knows. But he also knows that if they spend another eight hours in the car tomorrow without doing anything about this thing between them, he's going to cause an accident. He leans over and starts reaching for his crutches.

"Oh, we're doing this. I just gotta get situated— make a pitstop—," he explains or tries to, because Cas is all kiss swollen and concerned with his little head tilt.

And then he's helping Dean up, like Cas needs to know Dean's steady as much as Dean needs him there. Dean inhales.

"Uh, I grabbed some stuff at the store if you want to get it out. I'll just be— just a minute." Dean walks away, neck hot and bashful, but still hard and heavy in his jeans

He goes through the motions. Gives himself a cursory cleaning and tries not to get carried away fingering himself open. He knows Cas will want to too, and the thought of Cas' fingers make his insides churn and his dick weep. He pulls his boxers back up, but leaves his single boot and jeans in a heap under the sink.

Dean washes his hands and gives himself a once over in the mirror. He hasn't really looked at himself since he shaved for Cas' going away dinner. His face is drawn and the stitches on his ribs are starting to itch, but he's still got it. And he smirks to remind himself of that fact.

Okay.

Cas is laying on his back nibbling on the pack of pretzel M&Ms that are resting against his solid chest. He's down to plain white boxers, while the lube and a string of condoms are set out on the bedside table between the stick light and the hotel phone.

"Hey! I was saving those," Dean snips.

Cas rolls his eyes and finishes chewing. He sits up and hands the rest of the candy to Dean. But Dean just uses the wrapper as leverage and pulls Cas up for a quick kiss.

"I wasn't sure how long you'd be," Cas apologizes.

Dean cocks an eyebrow and looks down at both of their clothed cocks before replying. "Yeah, but you at least thought about it."

Cas huffs out a single laugh before cupping Dean over his underwear. He leans in close and whispers in Dean's ear, "I think we both have."

How is he so sexy? He's this weird, nerdy guy who wears neon all the time! Dean shudders at the rumble of Cas' voice against him and then he's dropping down to the floor. Leg be damned because, fuck yeah, he's thought about Cas too.

"What are you? Dean! No, you don't— not like that. On the bed at least, Jesus," Cas reprimands, dragging Dean up and stowing away his crutches so they're close enough to grab— later. Much later.

He pushes Dean's shoulders so he's sitting on the bed. And then Dean catches up. He hugs Cas around the middle and kisses him on the ribs, up over a nipple and on to the other one. His hands stroke up and down Cas' thick back, loving the way the muscles tense and relax as Cas tilts Dean's head back and kisses him filthy.

Cas has Dean's head in both hands and it's like Dean's lips are held up on a platter for him—- presented to be devoured. Cas has never looked so hungry and Dean's mouth goes dry. He swallows against the lingering taste of chocolate and clears his throat.

"Can I now?" Dean asks, teasing the waistband of Cas' shorts.

"No, I think we better do you first. I don't want this to go too quickly." Cas says, perfectly reasonable. Like Dean's mind didn't just have to change gears. His dick perks up though, selfish traitor.

"Uh—,"

"Lay down, however, is most comfortable for your leg," Cas says clinically

Dean rocks back and uses his core to kick his legs onto the bed. He reaches over and grabs a pillow, folds it in half because hotel pillows are crap and tucks it beneath his calf, right above his boot, bypassing any weight on the actual injury. He folds one arm behind his head and looks at the ceiling then back at Cas, just in time to see him bend out of those choir boy boxers.

Fuck.

Then he sees them. He'd been too caught up with all the feelings that he hadn't noticed Cas' scars. They're chunky and pink and the one by his clavicle is probably the worst. But Dean knew it'd be. He had to dig for that slug.

He inhales and waves Cas to him, needing to feel his body heat, the warmth of the blood pulsing through him, between them. Dean needs to remember they're alive and all that means.

Cas crawls onto the foot of the bed, eyes set and jaw loose. He kisses up Dean's hairy legs, watching him the entire time.

And yeah, that's really hot.

Then when he gets to Dean's boxer briefs he stops and has the nerve to look offended. Like they were going to magically disappear between one second and the next. Begrudgingly, Cas kneels and tugs the obtrusive garment down Dean's legs and over his bad ankle.

Dean can't help but laugh at Cas, who actually goes a little pink then he licks his lips and joins in. Dean sits up and kisses him. Because what else is there to do?

Somehow, Cas lays them both back down. Dean is too busy sucking on his tongue to notice, then Cas lines them up together and grinds.

Finally, his brain yells, some fucking friction.

Cas' balls are heavy against Dean's thigh and Dean is suddenly very aware of every point where their bodies touch. God, skin is amazing.

And he hasn't even taken his nightly dose of painkillers yet.

They rock against each other for a few moments, enjoying the heating tension. Well, Dean certainly is. He's got his hands on Cas' hips, rubs them over and down his massive thighs, learning the way they fill his palms.

Dean is going to have those wrapped over his shoulders someday. And Cas is going to sing for him in his throaty monotone way. Fuck his stupid leg or Dean would be flipping them over and doing it right now.

"Cas, please, let me? I just wanna—" Dean's begging, but he doesn't care.

"Dean?"

"Hm?"

"Shut up," Cas says with his chin down. "I'm taking care of you this time. You're going to have to deal with it."

"But–-"

"That too," Cas agrees, not missing a beat.

When Cas backs down his body and takes Dean's dick firmly in hand. Dean finally listens and shuts up.

But not for long, because then Cas is dragging his tongue up Dean's shaft and swallowing him whole. "Holy shit! Okay! Okay– fuck— yeah. I'll deal."

Impossibly, his logical mind reminds him about the condoms and he realizes they haven't really talked still.

"Hey, Cas, hold on. Um, we haven't talked about our histories or anything." Dean brushes his thumb over Cas' cheek, careful and concerned. Cas releases him.

"I was there when the nurse read your test results. Don't think I didn't notice you requested a full STI panel when it wasn't necessary for your injuries." Cas is smug and Dean pushes his face a little, just cuz.

"Okay, smart ass. But are you okay without protection?" Dean isn't forgetting.

"I've never used them for oral and Fergus, well, we were together so long I kind of forgot I should. Did that— should I be?" Cas asks, visibly alarmed now.

"No, I just want to be— transparent with you. Have you been tested?" Dean asks after a deep breath.

Cas nods. "Yeah, I did it out of spite when Fergus kicked me out, just to see if I could catch him on infidelity. I'm clean."

"Good— that's good. Thanks, I, uh, just want to do this right. You know?"

Cas' face softens and he smiles without teeth. "Yeah, I think I do."

Dean knows there’s loads more to say, but he feels a little silly now with his dick wet and softening. Like, somehow, he’s more naked or he should cover up. He looks at Cas and hopes he understands what his eyes are trying to say. Something lights in Cas’ eyes and he nods, slinking up the bed and laying beside Dean in his spot. Dean shares a bed now. He gets a full sized bed and even a designated side.

What is life?

Cas kisses his forehead before kissing his mouth and it makes something clench in his chest. Dean sucks in a steading breath, but doesn’t let Cas pull away. He kisses and clutches, clings, grabs until Cas is on him once more with weighted reassurance.

Fuck— why did he think this would be easy?

Cas is everywhere and Dean starts to breathe him in, them in, together and it all feels better. He drags Cas’ hand out of his hair, tugs it down until he can get his right knee up, showing Cas what he wants. Where he wants his fingers. And Cas hums his assent as he sucks on the spot behind Dean’s ear that makes him weak.

Dean kneads Cas’ ass as he leans across Dean’s body for the lube.

There’s a slip and slide across his belly, but all Dean can focus on is the way Cas bites off a condom from the strip. The primal flash of teeth making something in his hindbrain come alive.

Cas drops the packet on Dean’s chest and uncaps the lube to coat the first two fingers of his left hand. Dean spreads his right leg as far as he can, while Cas kneels over his injured one. He reaches down and tugs on his own dick, before cupping his balls and holding them up for Cas’ access.

Cas kisses the inside of Dean’s knee and shoulders between his legs. He starts slowly, kissing and sucking on the inside of Dean’s thighs, making his dick throb from neglect. Then when Cas starts to circle Dean’s entrance he relents and kisses the crown with a wide gleaming grin. Dean is pulled apart and he can do nothing but wait until he’s a puddle of unwound string.

The sucking warmth of Cas’ mouth is pure sin. Dean tries to keep his eyes open, tries to watch the mischief on Cas’ face as he destroys Dean once and for all. But the searching stretch of Cas’ fingers is too much and he has to close his eyes from the overload.

“Oh, Christ!”

“Dean, talk to me.” Cas slows.

Dean grits out, “it’s good. It’s—so fucking good. Guh!”

Dean is hogtied by the pleasure, unable to move besides his hands which slot through Cas’ hair as he sinks back onto Dean’s dick.

Over and down. So hot.

Dean gasps. And then Cas finds it.

Everything is pulled out of him, ecstasy, sound, gravity. Dean explodes. Reducing him to a throbbing crater on the bed.

Cas draws it all away, soothing and steady, leaving Dean empty and complete, anchored in the moment. Dean pats at Cas’ hair, groggy from the exertion. His right hand slips down to pull the bolt of his jaw away from Dean’s spent groin. Dean drags him up and back into a deep, grateful kiss.

He hums at the taste of himself on Cas’ tongue.

He’s so light, he giggles, blissed out and happy. Impossibly so.

Cas smiles back at him, almost bashfully and Dean holds him tighter. Trailing lazy kisses down his throat. Dean pats around between them for the condom, finds it wedged between his side and the sheets. He doesn’t stop kissing Cas as he rips it open, scoots back and grabs for his target. The angle is awkward, but Dean’s always been good with his hands, he makes do. Then Cas is pulling away for the lube once more.

Dean wipes his hands on the sheets as he rolls over. Cas stops him midway, draping himself over Dean’s body in a purposeful spooning. Dean tucks his right leg up and exhales, feeling the thick prodding of Cas inching inside him.

His body is sated, but the attention has his cock twitching, it’s already so much.

Cas kisses the back of his neck and hums, thrusting home. He’s balls deep and stubborn and Dean is too tired to egg him on. Cas takes his time, fucking Dean in a rhythm both lazy and adoring. Dean holds Cas’ hand against his hip, twining their fingers together, he strengthens the hold.

Dean doesn’t realize he’s crying until he opens his eyes. He blinks away the saline and clears his throat. Cas must feel him tense because he squeezes tighter and leans in to whisper, “it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

And Dean fucking breaks. Because Cas is right there, holding him, inside of him. And it’s still not enough. He lets go of Cas’ hand to cover his face, instinctively hiding as the emotions debilitate him. Cas stops and slides his right hand up Dean’s side, down his bicep and pulls gently on his elbow.

When Dean doesn’t open his eyes— doesn’t answer the concern he can feel radiating off of Cas, Cas starts to pull out to face him properly. Dean panics.

“Don’t, please. Just give me a minute—- it’s all a lot.” Dean grits out, grabbing at Cas’ hand and hugging it against him, shoving himself back against every inch of Cas he can get. He stares at Cas’ hand and inhales. He separates the digits and starts to suck on the two middle fingers, filling himself with Cas as much as he can. It’s pathetic and needy, but it stills the ragged thing that had taken over his breath and for that Dean calms.

Just in time for Cas to keep talking.

“Take it, Dean. Please, just tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you.” Cas shifts, grunting, his forehead rocking against the muscle that meets Dean’s shoulder. Cas resumes thrusting, fucking, loving Dean. “Anything. Everything.”

Dean’s already half hard and Cas’ voice makes his lower belly clench. He releases his holds on Cas’ hand, reaching back to tug on Cas’ hair, down to clutch at his bandaged nape. Still unwilling to open his eyes, Dean rolls. Cas moves with him, straddling Dean’s thighs and driving into him with a runner’s pace. Swift, but steady.

Cas’ forearms frame Dean’s shoulders and Dean’s bad leg is halfway off the bed, but Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. He turns his head and growls against Cas’ finger tips, pecking and licking as Cas rides his prostate as well as his ass.

Cas starts to falter. He huffs and starts again, but Dean feels him shaking.

“Cas?” Dean asks, making himself look over his shoulder.

Cas glares, unfocused and jaw tight. But the pleasure takes over and he closes his eyes and comes hard and deep. A requiem of curses is whispered against Dean’s back. Which makes Dean chuckle as Cas throbs inside him.

All too soon, Cas is dead weight on top of him, softening and sticky and unwilling to move. If Dean were annoyed and uninjured, he’d have done something about it about five minutes ago. But he’s too damn happy and tired to even think about moving himself, let alone Cas.

It’s just he needs to take his meds.

He waits, guessing that Cas is most likely asleep now, by the steady beat of his heart through his back. He grits his teeth and breathes through the pain in his calf. He could really use a shower and he’s actually kind of thirsty too. A laundry list of wants and needs parade through his mind as Dean rests face down with Cas on top of him.

It just all seems like too much effort.

He’s slept in worse ways. Hell, he’s survived worse pain. But that’s the thing, he doesn’t have to— not anymore. He’s a free man. He could give up hunting altogether. Sammy’s moved on. His job is done. He doesn’t have to bear any of it any more. No more floss stitches and no-name bottle of pills he swapped for in some truck stop. He’s got a prescription with his real name on it and everything.

It’s ten feet away, tops.

Dean sighs.

Cas turns his head and Dean can feel the patch of drool he leaves behind. Gross.

“I’m getting up now,” Dean warns, flexing and bobbing his shoulder blades until Cas returns to the land of the living. Cas groans, yawns and rolls over, draping his forearm over his eyes as Dean slowly sits up.

Dean glances over at Cas, stretched out and exhausted. The condom’s half off his limp dick, but Cas doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Come on Romeo, shower time.”

Cas smirks, eyes still covered and licks his lips. “Too comfortable.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You’re on the wrong end of unsanitary here, Cas. Plus, uh— I kinda need a hand getting in and out of the tub with this thing.”

Cas peeks one eye open, squinting over at Dean with a measuring glare. He sighs with his entire being. “Yeah, and we both need to put fresh dressings on.”

“Exactly.”

Cas scrunches his face up as he stretches out his hands, rotates his ankles and yawns. He stands up, cupping his junk before swaggering to the bathroom to finally toss the condom and wash his hands.

Dean watches him go the whole way, and yeah, okay, he ogles. But, he’s fucking allowed.

Then he limps after him, ignoring his crutches for speed’s sake.

The bacon from the complimentary continental breakfast the following morning is overdone, but Dean takes a plateful anyway. Waste not want not. He maneuvers back down the narrow aisle between tables against a single crutch. Hey, he needs a free hand for the grub.

Cas is sitting hunched over his mug of coffee, scowling like it personally offended him. Dean can’t help but smile at how grouchy he is. But then again, Cas was the one who set the damn alarm in the first place. They’ve got another eight hour stretch planned, if the winds hold out they’ll make it all the way to Denver.

Charlie texted them that she headed out just after seven, told them to take their time, and signed it with a snarky winking emoji. Dean’s in a group chat now. He’s got roommates.

Oh, right.

“Cas— so I was wondering what should I call you?”

Cas looks up at Dean as he chomps down on a clump of strips of bacon, chewing as he tries to reel in the anxiety. Cas squints.

“Cas is fine. I’ve become fond of it, why do you ask?” he replies.

Dean almost chokes on his breakfast as he hurries to finish chewing. He takes a swig from his mug and clears his throat. “No—uh.” He swallows again, thickly, knowing he’s going to have to look at those piercing blue eyes for this. And so he sucks it up and looks. “I was wondering— how you see us, now. You know? I know we’re past buddies, and we’re going to be living together, but— uh—.”

Cas sits back and raises an eyebrow, his lip quivers, but otherwise he’s stoic as ever. “Are you asking me to define our relationship, Dean?”

“Well not when you put it like that,” Dean mutters, going back to his uncomplicated bacon.

The mirth is thick in Cas’ deep voice now. “Are you worried I’m not that into you?”

Dean can play this game, too. He looks back and speaks with his mouth full, “you were more than into me last night, man.”

Cas grins and bites his lips, trying not to laugh outright.

Dean’s flushed and he’s trying not to get loud in this hotel lobby, but he will if he needs to make a point. When Cas doesn’t give him anymore ammo Dean goes back to his coffee.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Cas takes pity on him. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

Everything is lighter suddenly, the coffee even sucks less. Dean’s eyes perk up.

“Yeah?”

Cas leans forward, reaching under the tiny table for Dean’s good knee. His face is soft and his eyes look so tired, but there’s something deeper there too. “Dean, I thought you knew how I feel about you, about us.”

Dean knew— knows. He felt it. He sees it now. It’s just— it’s nice to hear. To be sure. He learned a long time ago not to assume things, especially with guys.

Dean nods. “I’m just checking. Boyfriends or, uh, partners? Have a preference? As long as you don’t say lovers, because that’s a deal breaker right there.”

Cas drops his chin. “Oh, I’ll remember that. But, uh, no. I don’t have a preference. Just as long as we’re in this—- together.”

Cas squeezes his knee and Dean melts.

“Yeah, well, you got me for the long haul, Cas. If you’re not sick of me by the time we hit California, I think we’re golden.” Dean tries to ease out of the moment.

“I doubt I’m going to be ‘sick’ of you anytime soon. And even if I am— that doesn’t mean my feelings will change. It just means we’re both human.” It would have been slightly more profound if he hadn’t used the finger quotes, but Dean looks past them, for now.

Dean nods and looks down at his plate and then back to the buffet line. “You getting anything? Only got like twenty minutes before they start cleaning up.”

“Did you see if they have ingredients for a PB&J?” Cas asks, following Dean’s gaze to the little counter with toasters and condiments, outwardly doubtful.

Dean stares. Who is this guy?

“Uh, not sure, probably do though.”

Cas hums and begrudgingly stands up to retrieve his own breakfast. Dean finishes off his coffee and debates another plate. They pull out of the parking lot just after eleven. Dean might let Cas drive after lunch, he’s still pretty tired.

The thought is a testament to how much he trusts Cas, with his car and with his safety. Dean’s been alone for so long, it was a risk just to take a nap. But he knows Cas has his back. Sure, he’s still taking a huge risk right now, with his heart. Oddly, it doesn’t feel like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It feels like they’re flying.

#destiel #dean/cas fanfic #the places we hide coda #spn fanfic #spn au #destiel smut #destiel au

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hms-tardimpala · 9 months

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My two favorite shows are Black Sails and Supernatural. I'm a media literate Sophisticated Queer™ and a trash-eating rabid raccoon. I have range. I contain multitudes. I know no shame.

#I'll never write fanfic for Black Sails. As Richard Siken puts it‚ I have nothing to add‚ it's perfect.#I'm less passive with spn because there's so much to improve‚ so many opportunities for a coda writer like me who's into canon compliance.#spn #black sails

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ambersock · 1 year

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Best Wishes

A little heartbreak to ruin your day.

Best Wishes - AmberSock - Supernatural (TV 2005) [Archive of Our Own]

#Episode: s05e01 Sympathy for the Devil (Supernatural)#AU Episode Coda #Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester #Angry Dean Winchester #Angst #Angst without a happy ending #Deep Hurting #spn fanfic #mine

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mittensmorgul · 2 years

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So I've finally managed to start a supernatural rewatch since it ended. I had a really hard time coming back to it knowing it ended like.... that. I'm wondering if you (or anyone who reads this) has any really good fix-it fics to read instead of the finale? I'm planning on watching up to 15x19 (maybe only 15x18 depending) and then just reading a fic as the ending instead, so I'm looking for something that picks up right where it leaves off, and then wraps everything up in the way the finale didn't.

Thanks for all your meta and spn commentary and stuff. You're one of my fave accounts ♥️

oh gosh, hello! And thanks!

I've read a lot of great fix it fics for the finale, and heck i should've made a special tag for them on tumblr, but I think most of the ones I've seen have made it into my episode tag... only there's like 60 pages of posts in there and I'd venture to say that the majority of them aren't fics, but meta, gif sets, art, and like... generalized yelling. All of which may be interesting and useful to you anyway! Even if it's not all fic. :D

I've written several fics myself that fall under the umbrella of Series Fix It, too:

Revenge of the Text (25.5k, rated T because my intent was to make something that COULD have aired, though after posting I realized I could've given more screen time to Sam and Eileen, even though I pretty much give them their happy ending right at the start lol... priorities, after all)

what goes around... (468 words, rated T, short and angsty with a happy ending)

The Famous Final Scene (202 words of pure fix it)

Everything I've written set in canon since the finale is effectively finale fix it, too, even if it doesn't directly address the finale, because the assumption is life just went on, they got Cas back, and without Chuck's power there to beam their reality to our tv screens in our universe, some network exec panicked and aired ~whatever that was~ instead of what actually happened in their lives instead. So we have holiday fluff with For The Best, case fic with lectio in equis, and coming October 6 for the DCBB this year, I'll be posting Heart Shaped Box. And that's just my own fix its. There's soooo many.

Another good place to start is probably the Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On tag on AO3, though ymmv on various different iterations of "fixing it." Like... i have less than zero desire to read any fix it involving them all being dead in heaven. That's not fixing it for me. So mind the tags on each story and find what YOU want to read. Because there's a lot there, and that means something for everyone!

And also, like some of my fic referenced above, post-canon fic that isn't directly ABOUT fixing the finale, but still carries on the original story either like the finale never happened at all, or else handwaves the fixing bit and moves right on with their lives without explaining in detail how everything was fixed-- a lot of those fics won't get tagged with the 15.20 fix it tag, for obvious reasons. Post-canon might be another good search term, to look for, as well.

Good luck with your rewatch! :D

#nice things people say #spiders georg of the tnt loop #i still haven't rewatched the finale... not sure i'll ever be able to... don't know why i'd even want to lololol #spn fanfic #destiel #spn 15.20 coda fic #WELL HECK maybe try that tag? even if there might not be a lot in it because i keep forgetting i made it lolol

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lab-trash · 9 months

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So, would anyone be interested if I wrote Lost and Found from Clark's POV?

Anyone?

#because i already wrote it #clark barker #clark barker x jack kline #jack kline #jack kline x clark barker #jack x clark #supernatural #filling in the gaps #there will also be a coda #but i havent written that yet #spn season 13 #spn s13e1

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iamdeansbrokenheart · 1 year

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They’re just outside of Cleavland, Ohio, when Sam takes it upon himself to get Dean talking about whatever's clearly bothering him. Although his brother’s sudden moodiness is by no means unfamiliar, Dean’s been acting uncharacteristically quiet since they ganked the lake monster, saved the hot girl and rescued her kid. The whole job had felt like a win for everyone, making Dean’s sudden shift in behavior that much more worrisome to understand.

While Sam had learned early enough on in their childhood to just leave his brother be during these depressive bouts of silent suffering- Left to his own devices, Dean would undoubtedly drink himself back to normal eventually after having successfully pushed down all the uncomfortable feelings he couldn't otherwise process. Unfortunately for Sam, he’s unable to ignore things right now. Jess was dead, dad was gone and Dean was all he had at the moment. So, even though every bone in his body knew better, Sam found himself unable to afford Dean any more patient brotherly avoidance for the time being.

“Hey, so uh, I read this thing in dad’s journal about how you went completely mute after mom’s death-” Sam said, looking over at his brother.

“I guess it really stood out to me because it seemed like dad was actually getting pretty worried about your lack of coping skills or whatever.”

Dean flinched under his brother's gaze, he’d hoped his little brother hadn't noticed how shitty his mood had been lately. He’d put so much energy that he didn't even have into keeping himself together. Praying that maybe just one more day of him and Sammy out on the open road, cranking up the tunes as the scenery flew by- Only a couple more hours before he’d snap out and the gaping hole inside his chest would just patch itself shut independently.

“And?” Dean asked, instinctively hiding under a thin layer of anger.

“I dunno, Dean, but I had to take a psychology class my freshman year, as a graduation requirement, and traumatic mutism is kind of a big deal. Plus, you still go quiet and shut yourself down when you’re freaking out- Like when we were kids and dad went off grid too long on a hunt without checking in.”

Dean sighed, he’d almost forgotten how intuitive Sam was about all his emotional crap.

“Just ask your questions already Sammy, you know I hate being head shrunk and besides, psych 101 or not- you’re kinda doing a terrible job right now!”

An awkward silence followed the brothers until they’d pulled off the highway and parked. Still gripping the wheel, every muscle in Dean’s upper back flexed uncomfortably as he looked straight ahead, waiting for his brother to speak.

“Hey, do you, uh, want a beer or something?” Sam asked, drumming his fingers along the top of the green cooler he’d just hefted into his lap.

Although leaving the car was like shedding a protective skin, Dean obliged his younger brother. Leaning back against the impala, Dean struggled to push down his mounting vulnerabilities.

He’d always managed to fake his way through the hard things in life, he was a pro at shielding himself from pretty much everyone. Well, everyone except of course Sam.

“Listen Dean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to- It’s just, I know something’s been bothering you since we left Lake Manitoc and I just wanted you to know I’m here for you, okay?”

Looking up from his beer, Dean was almost tempted to tell Sam everything. Tell him about how lost he felt without the physical presence of their dad or how overwhelmed he was getting from the almost constant nightmares he’d been having about mom’s death. While discussing his most traumatic childhood losses with Lucas had not been an intentional choice, it had proven to be the right thing to comfort the kid in that moment- But once his brain had gotten hold of those intrusive memories again, mom on the ceiling and- It was all just too much to deal with and not even a lifetime built around trying to forget was helping to save him now from the massive burden of his own grief.

“Uh, thanks Sammy. That’s good to know.”

Finishing his beer, Dean contemplated chasing it down with something stronger. He needed to hurry up and get over himself and his chick flick bullshit already. Because they had work to do and dad surely wasn't going to go on without them and rescue himself.

#supernatural fanfic #spn headcanon #dean winchester #sam winchester #wip #tw alchoholism #tw childhood trauma #spn season 1 coda

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huggybearsunshine · 1 year

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The Things We Left Behind Part 24

[Part 24] Takes place during the first half of 8x22 Clip Show.

Cas watched the needle weave in and out of his skin with a stoic expression that would have fascinated Dean if he weren’t trying so hard not to look him in the eye.

“You stopped me apologizing earlier, but… your energy still feels…” Cas trailed off, touching Dean’s hand when he didn’t look up.

The hunter sighed harshly, cutting the string and setting the pliers down on the counter of the sink.

“Cas, I don’t have it in me to do this tonight,” his voice sounded worn so thin it was barely there, “My best friend is off god knows where, I had to revive my little brother today with an ice bath just to keep him going, and I’m covered in the blood of the man I love, who is supposed to be immortal by the way-”

“I am, I’m just… Crowley used an Angel blade-“

Dean’s hand rose to stop him and it worked as Cas went still, breath hanging between them when their eyes met.

“I’m so tired, and right now, I just want to take you to bed,” the hunter furthered.

Cas looked as if he wanted to question him, but instead, he simply nodded agreeably, “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Dean looked like at least a bit of the weight was lifted as he leaned, hands on Cas’ thighs and forehead pressing into his chest.

Cas went to rub his back but the other man darted up at the touch.

“Come on,” Dean helped him to his feet, and the pair walked toward the war room where the others waited.

“You’re looking better,” Benny’s smooth voice called out as the two entered.

“Benny,” Dean moved forward once he was sure the Angel’s balance would hold in his absence, “To the rescue as usual.”

“Well, when an Angel commands it,” he laughed back, shaking the hand he had been extended before turning to the celestial in question, “How ya doin’, Cas?”

“Better now,” he remarked on a sigh, “Sam, are you-?”

“I’m okay,” the other hunter joined them and clapped the Angel’s shoulder, though the action was much weaker than usual.

Cas wasn’t sure if that was more for Sam’s benefit or his own, but he chose not to comment.

“We’re going to bed,” Dean spoke up before anyone else could, “Sam, you sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” he reiterated with only a slight irritation to his tone.

“Okay,” the older of the brothers continued, “Benny, you need a room?”

“Nah, I’m good, brother,” he shook his head and Dean nodded absentmindedly.

He had put on the mask well enough, but it was noticeably slipping as the minutes dragged on.

“Okay, thanks again,” he was still nodding as he said it, eyes not really meeting anyone’s.

“Hey Tex,” Benny caught his attention, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you know me,” he forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Just beat.”

He slapped the vampire on the shoulder with a quick tap.

“Thanks again,” Dean offered, “Gonna have to start a tab on all the favors I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me nothin’,” Benny waved him off but his eyes told Castiel that his worries hadn’t been alleviated.

“Cas,” his stare was acknowledged with a curt nod and a raised brow.

“Benjamin,” Cas answered in turn, and the vampire was gone.

“Come on,” he heard next to him quietly but when he turned, Dean was already on his way to the room.

With a sympathetic smile from Sam, Cas was off as well, aware of every bit of the tension between himself and the man ahead of him. But Dean needed sleep, and that was something Cas could give him for tonight.

The rest could wait.

But when Dean awoke that morning, he swung his legs over the side, pulled his jeans on, and left the room without so much as a glance toward Cas.

He sat up, himself, as the door clicked shut and stared for an inordinate amount of time, feeling a sudden cold, emptiness in the hunter’s wake.

He sat there amongst the hunter’s things, for how long, he wasn’t really certain, but he couldn’t make himself leave the comfort of the room. Possibly due to worry of not being allowed to return.

He wondered what particular decision had been his undoing.

But he also had to wonder if Dean would be feeling this bad, were the roles reversed.

When he finally stood, he winced at the pain in his abdomen. Not because it was so intense but because it was unusual for him to feel at all.

Cas moved awkwardly as he shuffled down the hallway and rounded into the library, favoring one side of his body more than the other.

“Cas,” Sam started to stand but swayed back into the chair again, uneasy on his own feet, as the Angel gave him a knowing look.

“Sam, have you seen Dean?” he asked, already looking like he knew the answer.

“Think I heard him leave about an hour ago, why?” Sam’s brows stitched in confusion, “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, I think he’s upset with me,” Cas looked away.

“You did say you guys would stop getting yourselves hurt being reckless over each other,” Sam offered a sympathetic look his way as he said it, “And to stop lying…”

“Yes, we did,” he acknowledged honestly.

“He probably just needs some time,” the hunter added sagely.

“Of course,” Cas nodded before grunting and leaning against the table for support.

“You okay?” Sam’s brow arched in concern.

“My wound isn’t healing as quickly as I’d hoped, but your brother insisted on stitching me up in the meantime,” he sunk into the nearest chair, “And I am getting better… slowly…” his eyes pulled upward and a crease formed between his brow, “You, on the other hand, are getting worse…”

“Well, two trials down, one to go,” Sam was now the one avoiding eye contact.

“And the final test, do you know what it is?” Cas held his stare regardless.

“I have to cure a demon,” Sam’s attention returned, wanting to see the reaction on Cas’ face.

“Of what?” the seraph just looked confused.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he sighed, “Ever heard of anything like that?”

“Nothing comes to mind, but I’ve come to understand recently that my memories can’t be trusted…” Cas’ shoulders fell.

Sam’s hand reached out to touch his shoulder, surprising him out of his thoughts, “Wanna talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say…” he responded, voice rasping a bit as he spoke, and Sam just nodded in understanding.

“Hey, I’m here if you do, and as far as Dean is concerned, he’s gonna get over it, just…” the hunter hardened a bit, “Be patient… You always have been with him and it’s gotten you this far.”

Cas nodded uncertainly so he continued.

“You’ve always been good at knowing what Dean needs,” he further assured the Angel, “Trust your instincts…”

This seemed to spark an idea in Cas as his eyes lit up.

“Just don’t go running off again, okay?” Sam added though, by the looks of it, he now had only a part of the celestial’s attention, if that, “It really affects him…”

“Of course,” Cas nodded slowly before disappearing in a gust of wind.

“Like that,” Sam laughed and threw his hands up in defeat.

He reappeared next to a convenient store and rounded in through the door as the bell above announced his presence.

Wandering around the store and grabbing anything he thought Dean would like, Cas noticed the boy who worked there growing more annoyed with him by the second.

“I do have money,” he offered as a way of assuaging his ire, but as he approached him, Cas’ own seemed to spike, “Where is the pie?”

“Think we’re out,” the attendant shrugged.

“You don’t understand,” Cas pulled him in by the collar, “I need pie.”

“Put the virgin down, Castiel,” the familiar voice called from over his shoulder.

“Metatron,” Cas lowered the boy before turning to him.

“Let’s talk,” the scribe nodded toward the door.

“You can come out now,” Sam called out with a roll of his eyes and Dean slowly stepped into view.

“You, uh, knew I was here, huh?” he shuffled self-consciously.

“Yeah, I knew you were there,” Sam replied with a smirk, “Why are you hiding from Cas?”

“I’m not hiding from Cas,” he looked away, “I just… I don’t know, I just need a minute to think without him doing his sad puppy-dog eyes…”

Sam laughed, but it turned into a cough which had Dean rushing to his side.

“You okay?” his big brother instincts kicked in, but Sam nodded reassuringly.

“Maybe you should take a break?” Dean offered, “‘Least ‘til you feel better…”

“This is what’s going to make me feel better,” he motioned toward the papers around him, “By the way, do we have a room 7b?”

“What do you want, Metatron?” Cas asked as they walked the sidewalk.

“It’s Marv in public,” he amended before answering the other Angel’s question, “And you intrigue me, Castiel.”

“How so?” his brows furrowed.

“You’re the spanner in the works!” the scribe announced excitedly, “The break in the great machine!”

“I wasn’t the first…” he replied with a thoughtful look.

“Another story I’d like to hear,” he acknowledged.

“It has an unfortunate ending,” the seraph’s eyes fell.

“Most do,” Metatron nodded, given him a pensive moment before asking what he really wanted to know, “But you full-on rebelled right? No contact with upstairs at all…”

“Not consensual contact, no,” Cas grumbled, then upon seeing the scribe’s surprised expression, explained, “Naomi…”

“Ah, say no more…” Metatron grimaced, “I’m familiar with Naomi’s tactics.”

“Really, you?” Cas looked up and Metatron raised his hand to dissuade him.

“No, she didn’t dare mess with my memory- scribe and all,” he mended as Cas nodded in understanding, “Listen, I’ve had no one, and I mean no one, I could talk to about heaven or any of the rest of this stuff with in millennia… I thought we could- I don’t know- be… friends.”

“Friends,” Cas deadpanned.

“Yeah, you know, grab a bite, shoot the shit, talk about enemies or… relationship problems?”

“Dean and I have no problems-“

“I knew it,” Metatron interrupted as they came to a stop at a bench and he motioned to take a seat, “You don’t just love the hunter, you’re… in love… romantically…”

Cas sat with an exasperated sigh, “Dean and I share a profound bond…”

“How did this happen?” Metatron pressed again, determined to get Cas to open up and tell the full story.

The brothers entered the room, clearing cobwebs away as they did.

“What happened?” Sam asked while they each explored separate sides of the room, “You and Cas were great and now…”

“I’m tired of him lying- or withholding, whatever you want to call it- I’m just tired of it,” Dean wouldn’t look at him, busying himself with some of the room’s artifacts, “And the disappearing every time there’s a problem…”

“Hey, I understand why you’re mad, but… go easy on Cas, will ya?”

“If anyone else- I mean, anyone…”

“But he’s not just anyone,” Sam cut him off with a knowing look, “He’s Cas…”

“That’s the point… He’s supposed to be the one who doesn’t do this shit to me, and yet here we are again and again!” he blew up, knocking some book from a shelf.

A click froze him though, and he looked the shelf up and down.

Slowly, he reached out and found the book which seemed to be attached to the shelf itself. With a tilt, it moved and the entire structure swung open like a door.

“No way…” a boyish excitement escaped him.

“Is that a… dungeon?” Sam peaked around him.

“It’s a dungeon!” Dean exclaimed.

“I rescued him from hell,” Cas finally sat down.

“He’s the Michael sword?” Metatron’s jaw dropped.

“No,” Cas’s eyes cut to him, “He’s Dean Winchester. He was never Michael’s to claim.”

“But he’s yours to?” the scribe posed.

Cas’ face hardened, “We claimed each other.”

“Wow, you really are in love, aren’t you?” Metatron delighted, “And with the Michael Sword, himself,” he tisked with an impressed look to his eyes, “I gotta say, that’s bold even for me…” he thought on this for a moment before his questioning continued, much to Cas’ chagrin, “So, you were sent to retrieve him and- what? Couldn’t let go?”

“Why do you care?” Cas tried to shut him down, but Metatron was persistent.

“That’s the exact question that I want to know!” he answered excitedly, “Why do you care?”

“How am I supposed to answer that?” Cas’ brows knit defensively, “I love him because I have never seen any other choice but to!”

That answer seemed to only spur the scribe on even more.

“I thought as much,” he smirked, “You are far more interesting than I gave you credit for, Castiel.”

“So, it’s the lying… the evasiveness that’s getting to you,” Sam persisted, and Dean dropped something back into the box he was looking through on the table with exaggerated frustration.

“Yes, Sam,” he bristled, “Wouldn’t it get to you?”

But after a moment and a steadying breath, his voice calmed.

“He keeps doing this… finding out he was working with Crowley behind our backs and lying to my face,” he stressed the last three words, “That was bad enough… but thinking this could be a pattern with him… Just lying to me or keeping things from me when I don’t agree, it’s… not what I signed up for.”

“And the disappearing…” Sam added gently.

“He does it every time…” he rubbed his face, “I can’t agree with him on everything, I’m never going to be that guy, but… I just wish he would stay and face it when things get bad.”

“Yeah…” Sam didn’t know what to say to him other than, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“How?” Dean laughed bitterly, “He’s not here…”

He looked away, unable to meet his brother’s gaze, when he noticed something in the corner, “Well, that could be interesting…”

“I still don’t understand why any of this is of interest to you,” Cas rolled his eyes to heaven, though he knew he would find no help there.

“Do you know how few firsts there are for someone who’s been on Earth as long as I have? I’m not Naomi, Castiel… You can trust me,” he folded his hands in front of him and a pleased smile spread across his face, “Plus I need someone to talk to about what’s been going on back home!”

“By ‘home’ you mean… heaven?” Cas’ eyes narrowed on the other man.

“I’m trying to play catch-up… digging around, crawling through a few divine nooks and crannies and from what I can see,” he shifted in his seat, “Without the archangels, it’s a mess up there. Open warfare.”

“Sounds like you know more than I do.. I thought Naomi was running things now,” Cas looked off to the side, her name still triggering memories of torture and manipulation.

“Is that what she told you?” Metatron raised a questioning brow to him, “Naomi’s just one of many factions at play right now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start ripping each other apart. It’s all broken.”

“And I’m the one who broke it,” Cas looked away again but this time in shame, “There was a time when I thought I could lead our people, but I was mistaken… I spilt so much blood,” his voice hardened in self-hatred, “I tried to atone for my sins, do penance, and I let down the people who care about me to protect our secrets… I’ve just done nothing but fail.”

“Look, I know… but now the angels,” he quieted his voice, “Heaven, needs someone to come to the rescue. They need us, Castiel.”

“Us?” Cas’ stoicism slipped for a moment.

“Just picture it,” Metatron’s voice grew in excitement, “We ride to the rescue and save the day! It’d make a great story…” he took a beat, “Would make Dean proud.”

Cas looked skeptical, so he continued a little more frustratedly.

“We need to lock down heaven- all the factions, you, me- and work this stuff out,” the scribe concluded.

“Like a family meeting?” Cas asked, still just as unconvinced.

“I’m going to let you think on it, but I know I can convince you I’m right,” he winked before vanishing without further explanation.

“Wait, Metatro- Marv!” Cas looked up and then away in frustration.

No wonder Dean found it so frustrating when Cas would disappear in much the same way.

In a blink, Cas found himself outside of the bunker, walking in on a film playing through a projector in the library and stopping with a tilted expression to take in what he was seeing.

“Well, that was weird,” Dean’s voice drew his attention as it always did, and he moved further into the room, “With three exclamation marks.”

“What is this?” Cas now joined them fully in the room, distractedly placing the grocery bag on the table.

“Oh, there he is,” Dean’s face fell instantly and his posture tightened.

“Film we found in this hidden room,” Sam replied off-handed my, eyes still fixated on the screen, “That wasn’t a normal exorcism. They changed the words.”

“I believe ‘lustra’ is Latin for wash, or cleanse…” Cas offered, brows knit closely in thought.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause that was the most freaky part, the vocabulary,” Dean shot back, “What about the bloody high five or-or the chest burster?”

He stood, suddenly needing to be at the same eye level as the Angel across from him.

“Anything else on the film, like director’s commentary? Sequal maybe?” he added, Cas’ presence bringing his anger back to the surface.

“Yeah, listen to this,” Sam took over, lifting his laptop as he brought it nearer to Dean, “The older priest, Max Thompson, bit the dust in ‘58, but the younger one is still alive and in St. Louis.”

“Think this kind of weird is worth the drive?” Dean looked from him to the screen and back.

“Yeah, I think it’s worth the drive,” Sam replied incredulously.

“Alright, let’s roll,” they all began toward the entranceway, but a pointed finger rounded on Cas, “Not you.”

“Sam is more damaged than I am,” it was almost pleading as it fell from the Angel’s mouth.

“Yeah, well, even banged up, Sammy comes through,” Dean’s anger wavered minutely but returned as he took a deep breath.

“Dean, I just want to help,” Cas’ own flared in response.

“We don’t need your help,” he looked sorry as soon as he said it, but doubled down anyway, “Just stay here, and… get better. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Dean,” Cas stalked over, shoving him into the wall.

He kissed him as if he meant for it to hurt, harsh and bruising, before pulling back with his eyes locked dangerously onto the hunter’s own.

“I love you, and I apologize for getting ambushed by Crowley and Naomi but I think I have suffered quite well enough for that mistake already,” as if to further his point, a spot of blood began to pool on his shirt where his stitches were pulled loose in the sudden movement, “But Dean, when you do get back- safely and in one piece,” he stressed that last part, “We are going to talk about it and fix it.”

He pressed in, both dangerous and alluring.

“I will not be spoken to in that way, do you understand?” he practically growled and Dean felt his knees weaken beneath him in response.

“Yeah,” he managed to force a breathy answer out, and Cas’ hand loosened its hold on his collar to cup his cheek instead.

“Please pray to me if you need me,” the Angel’s voice softened.

“Okay,” Dean nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Cas let his eyes linger a moment before pulling away and nodding to a gaping Sam before he walked off down the hallway.

“You okay?” a grin crawled up Sam’s cheek when his eyes met with Dean’s.

“No… shut up…” Dean shrugged his jacket back into place, “Let’s go.”

———————

@destiel-wings @destieliscanon5nov @destieldisaster, your comments made my day!

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