#the song called for a crystal ball but i switched it to palm reading bc hands

[expectingtofly]

SPN Stay At Home Challenge

Week 10: your choice

I’ve been wanting to write a destiel fic based off the song “Fortune Teller” by Robert Plant & Alison Krauss for forevvverr so I decided to finally go for it:

Dean, Sam, and Eileen are at the beach when they go to get their palms read. Cue an attractive, charming fortune teller and a palm reading Dean wants to dismiss, but can't seem to shake.

Words: ~3k

Read on AO3

Thanks to @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 and @pray4jensen for creating this challenge :)

“This is bullshit, you know that, right?” Dean asked, leaning on the counter in the small, dark shop Sam and Eileen had dragged him into.

“Come on, live a little, Dean,” Sam said, holding Eileen’s hand. Dean rolled his eyes. They were at the beach on vacation and had been roaming the boardwalk when Eileen pointed out a sign reading, Fortune Teller, $5 Palm Reading. Learn Who You Are and What Your Future Holds. Dean had hardly glanced at the sign before Eileen pulled Sam into the shop, causing Dean to reluctantly follow.

Inside, the small shop was littered with crystals and charms, incense and candles. Too many candles, Dean thought, looking around. This place was a fire hazard. At the back of the small shop was a thick, deep red curtain which would probably go up in smoke quickly enough if a candle fell over. Dean could hear murmured voices behind the curtain where the fortune teller presumably sat. Probably a woman in flowy clothes and long hair, waving her hands around a crystal ball, muttering shit about auras and futures.

Dean looked over his shoulder at the sunny, crowded boardwalk where the ocean crashed out of sight and people chattered and walked past, then back at Sam and Eileen who were looking at one of the tapestries blanketing the wall.

“I dated a hippy in college, remember?” Dean said. “Weirdest chick ever. She thought she could read palms too. Read mine and said we weren’t destined to be together.”

“Well she was right, wasn’t she?” Sam said and Eileen fought back a smile.

Dean flipped Sam off and the curtain parted to let out two women in bikini tops and shorts. They were laughing and staring at their palms as if they could read what the fortune teller had seen there.

“I told you!” The one said to the other. “‘There’s fortune to be made in your future’—I just started selling Pampered Chef stuff, remember?” Give me a break, Dean thought.

“Our turn!” Eileen said, pulling Sam to the curtain. They disappeared behind it and Dean sat on a tasseled, purple round ottoman that could've been either a place to sit or part of the decoration. Incense burned on a table to his left and the strong smell made him feel almost dizzy. He picked up a ridged, orange crystal on the table—a sign promised it would promote “relaxation and peace in mind and spirit.” Dean turned the crystal over in his hand. What a bunch of hooey.

He heard Eileen laugh from behind the curtain. Dean liked Eileen and thought she was great for Sam, but he was starting to wish he hadn’t given in when Sam and Eileen begged him to come with them to the beach. For one, no matter how well he got along with both Sam and Eileen, he was designated third wheel. And, two, he suspected Sam and Eileen had only invited him along out of pity—why else would they want him around on a vacation to celebrate their recent engagement? Meanwhile Dean had ended a two year relationship a month ago. He was happy for Sam and Eileen, truly, but watching them be all nauseatingly cute with each other didn’t exactly make him feel great about the current state of his love life.

Sam and Eileen emerged from behind the curtain, and Dean tossed the crystal onto the table and stood. “What’d the fortune teller say? Either of you guys gonna die an early death?”

“Jesus, Dean, that’s dark,” Sam protested.

“He said we make a good pair,” Eileen said, taking Sam’s hand to study his palm. So the fortune teller was a guy, not the witchy woman Dean had imagined. One aspect of this shop that was not ridiculously cliché. “My lines promise excitement and Sam’s promise dependability.”

“He called you boring to your face?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just go and get your palm read.”

“Nah,” Dean started.

“Come on, Dean, it’s fun and,” Eileen looked over her shoulder at the curtain and signed something.

“What?” Dean asked. Though he’d picked up some sign language since meeting Eileen, he’d learned mostly single words, insults he could then aim at Sam behind his back to Eileen’s amusement.

“He’s attractive,” Sam said, “according to Eileen.”

“Well, I’ll be the judge of that,” Dean said. Eileen smiled encouragingly at him as he walked to the curtain. Trust Eileen to try and set him up with the fortune teller. She and Sam had been pointing out other beachgoers the whole week long, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He’d decided he was content staying single for the rest of his life, thank you very much. With the exception of Sam and Eileen’s relationship, love was as much a sham as fortune telling. Or so he was trying to convince himself.

Pushing the curtain back, Dean stepped into the back of the shop and blinked in the gloom lit by only candlelight. A dark haired man sat cross legged on a wide carpet; he looked up as Dean entered and smiled. Alright, so Eileen wasn’t kidding, this guy was attractive. But he was also barefoot and wearing all linen, so Dean wasn’t going to lose his head.

“Hello,” the fortune teller said, beckoning for Dean to sit down. He was surrounded by more candles and, on the walls, tapestries and hanging beads. No crystal ball, though. “And what’s your name?”

“You can’t just read my mind?” Dean asked, sitting down across from him on the floor. Would it kill the guy to put some chairs in this place?

The fortune teller laughed, a low, pleasant sound. “I’m not psychic.” He held out his hand, palm up. “I only read palm lines.”

Realizing the fortune teller was waiting, Dean placed his hand in his. But the fortune teller didn’t look at his palm yet. He held Dean’s gaze—his eyes were a light blue—and Dean found himself relaxing despite himself.

“It’s Dean. My name,” he said.

“You’re a skeptic,” the fortune teller said.

“I thought you couldn’t read my mind.” The fortune teller smiled and Dean gestured to the space around them with his free hand. “This is a little over the top, don’t you think? The candles, the incense,” he gestured to the fortune teller, “the clothes.”

“People come here expecting something and I comply,” the fortune teller said. He didn’t sound offended. “They wouldn’t trust me if this place looked like a doctor’s office.”

“No, guess not.”

The fortune teller bent his head to look at Dean’s palm and Dean asked, “You have a name?”

The fortune teller looked up at him again. Shit. He really was attractive, hippy clothes and all. “Castiel.”

Dean snorted and Castiel smiled like he knew what Dean was thinking. “That’s amusing?” he asked.

“No, no, just, uh, it fits. Very new agey. That your real name or is it part of your whole persona?”

“None of this is a persona. It’s all real, it’s all me.”

“So you were born with this… gift, or ability, or whatever, to tell the future?” He was all too aware of Castiel still holding onto his hand and only half admitting to himself that he might be stalling.

Castiel looked thoughtful. “I can’t predict the future. I can only study the way lines cross on your palm,” he softly traced the lines on Dean’s palm and something fluttered in Dean’s chest, “and make assumptions and predictions based on what those lines typically suggest.”

“You make educated guesses.”

Castiel smiled. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“You know, you really shouldn’t be revealing trade secrets.”

Castiel tilted his head in a way that was incredibly disarming. “Are you going to go out on the boardwalk and discredit me?”

“Might open up my own shop next door and steal your business.”

Castiel laughed and the sound stirred something in the base of Dean’s stomach. He watched as Castiel studied his palm again, curious despite himself at what Castiel would see there.

“You feel kind of warm,” Castiel said. Dean reddened, but Castiel didn’t look up at him. He traced one long finger over a line curving at the base of Dean’s thumb. A small fan on a bookshelf behind Castiel swung slowly side to side, making the bead curtains hanging from the walls sway and softly rattle. Dean could feel the slight breeze in the warm room as the fan pointed his way. Castiel’s loose hippy shirt dipped at the neckline to reveal a brown corded necklace hanging between his collarbones. Muffled chatter rose behind the curtain and the fan softly whirred and Dean wondered if Castiel wasn’t a hypnotist as well.

“You’re in love,” Castiel said, letting go of Dean’s hand.

Dean blinked and pulled his hand back into his lap before Castiel’s words registered. He laughed. “Sorry, buddy, but I think you got me mixed up with my brother. The sasquatch that was in here last?”

Castiel only smiled serenely and shook his head. “You might not know it yet, but you will soon enough, I think. You’ll know when you look into your love’s eyes.”

Dean stared back at him, then broke the gaze. “Well, alright then.” He stood. “I still think this is all bullshit.”

“You can pay for my bullshit in that jar there.” Castiel pointed to a low table behind Dean where a jar stood next to a small sign reading $5.

“Right, forgot you actually make a living off this crap.” Dean threw a five dollar bill into the mouth of the jar and started to pull back the curtain. “Nice meeting you anyway.”

“Nice meeting you too, Dean.” Castiel smiled up at him, his hands folded in his lap.

Dean walked out of the shop to meet Sam and Eileen standing in the sunlight on the boardwalk. “What happened in there?” Sam asked. “You took forever.”

“He took his hippy time. Guess he was having trouble reading my palm.” After sitting in that dark room, the sun outside seemed even brighter and more glaring.

“What’d he say?” Eileen asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said, suddenly embarrassed. “He was making it up.” He started walking down the boardwalk.

“Dean, what’d he say?” Sam asked as he and Eileen caught up with him. “Something bad?”

“No! You know he can’t actually tell the future, right?” Sam and Eileen watched him expectantly and Dean sighed. “He, uh… he said I was in love.”

Eileen frowned. “In love?”

“Like I said, bullshit.”

“You think he meant with Lisa?” Sam asked.

“No, guys.” Dean stopped walking abruptly and Sam and Eileen turned around to look at him. “He didn’t know what he was talking about, he told me himself, he makes all this shit up.” He started walking again. “Probably gave me some generic fortune to get back at me for giving him a hard time.”

“You gave him a hard time?” Sam asked. Eileen touched Dean’s arm and Dean looked at her.

Attractive? she signed and Dean sighed.

Yes, he was attractive, he signed back. Eileen grinned and Dean rolled his eyes.

* * *

That night, Dean waved goodnight to Sam and Eileen as they went into their hotel room down the hall. He unlocked the door to his room, paused on the threshold and stared into the darkness, then shut the door and went downstairs to the boardwalk on which the hotel stood.

The ocean surged loudly and he leaned on the boardwalk railing to watch the dark waves catch the moonlight as they piled on top of each other and crashed into foam.

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets against the night chill, he continued down the boardwalk. Lamp posts cast orange circles of light which diffused softly into shadow before meeting the next circle of light. Farther down the boardwalk, clusters of multi-colored lights formed the shapes of a ferris wheel and other rides.

You’re in love. What the hell did the fortune teller mean by that? Dean wasn’t in love, not with anyone, and not with Lisa as Sam had suggested. It was true that Dean had loved Lisa—their relationship was the longest he’d ever been in, and they’d even started talking marriage. But, slowly, for reasons Dean didn’t really know how to express, he had realized she wasn’t the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And so he had broken things off last month.

Maybe that was a stupid thing to do. He and Lisa could’ve been happy together, happy enough. He didn’t know what he was holding out for.

He paused on the boardwalk before he reached the more crowded, night-life area. Nothing like seeing people having a good time, paired up in couples, to make him feel lonely and miserable. Standing under a lamp post in its orange glow, he drew his hand from his pocket and studied his palm, trying to see what Castiel had seen. He could still feel the light pressure of Castiel’s finger tracing the criss-crossing lines.

You’ll know when you look into your love’s eyes. Castiel must have pulled that from some sappy romance movie. The ones Sam and Eileen made Dean watch with them, where two people caught each others’ eyes across the room and, in a heart-stopping instant, knew they were destined for each other.

Shaking his head, Dean shoved his hand back into his pocket. That shit didn’t happen in real life; it hadn’t happened with Lisa or anyone else, and Dean wasn’t going to put any stake in Castiel’s palm readings, wasn’t going to bank on true love and all that cliché shit. A salty, chilly breeze tugged at his collar and blew through his hair as he headed back to the hotel.

* * *

The next afternoon, Dean leaned forward in his beach chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. The sun shone overheard and glared on the waves. Behind his, Sam, and Eileen’s chairs, a family sat with a radio blaring music, and to their left a couple threw a frisbee back and forth.

Sam and Eileen were both reading, because of course they were. They were disgustingly perfect for each other. Even their palm readings were complementary. Not absurd, like Dean’s had been. Dean decided he was going to leave Fortune Teller Castiel a bad review online, if hippies even used the internet and had websites. Castiel sat in a dark room all day, trying to act mysterious, taking people’s money, spewing nonsense, but he didn’t know shit.

Three women walked past his chair and one of the women glanced at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before she kept walking past. Dean stared down at his feet and pushed them into the warm sand. You’ll know when…

Abruptly, he stood. Sam and Eileen looked up at him over their respective books.

“I’m going to go grab food,” he said and grabbed his shirt hanging over the back of his chair.

“Okay,” Sam said, looking back down at his book.

You alright? Eileen signed and Dean nodded. He pulled his shirt on and walked off to the boardwalk.

I’m great, he thought, I’m just going to give Castiel a piece of my mind, tell him where he can shove his fortune telling.

Making his way through the crowded boardwalk, he reached the fortune teller shop and stepped inside the dark, acrid smelling interior. Pulling off his sunglasses, he saw the curtain was drawn back a little, inviting customers. Determined, Dean marched over and pulled the curtain aside.

“You’re full of shit,” he started to say, stepping into the room where Castiel had read his palm the day before. But then Castiel looked up from where he sat on the floor and their eyes met and the words died on Dean’s lips.

He stared at Castiel for a good while, forgetting everything he had planned to say.

“Dean,” Castiel said, smiling, bringing Dean back to himself. “I was hoping to see you again.”

“You,” Dean stammered. Such blue eyes, why hadn't he seen it before... “It’s you…”

Castiel stood. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Dean breathed. He broke his gaze from Castiel’s eyes and fiddled with his sunglasses in his hand. “I, um...”

“Did you come for another palm reading?” Castiel asked. He reached out and Dean gave him his hand without realizing what he was doing. Castiel lifted his own hand next to Dean’s and studied both of their palms.

“What do you see?” Dean asked, looking not at their hands, but at Castiel. His heart was pounding.

“I see… a dinner date. You tell me all about yourself, and then we take a walk on the beach.” Castiel looked up at Dean, a playful smile on his face.

Dean let out a breath of laughter. “You read all that in our palm lines?”

“I might have embellished a bit.” Castiel took a step closer to Dean and smiled up at him. You’ll know when you look…

“I came back here to tell you something,” Dean said. “What you read in my palm lines, it was true.”

“It was?” Castiel’s brow furrowed a little. He started to let go of Dean’s hand, but Dean took Castiel’s hand in his own.

“It was just like you said.” He couldn’t look away from those eyes. “I thought you were only making it up, but dammit, you were right.” The last words fell off his tongue soft and quiet.

Castiel studied him, then slowly smiled. “I so hoped I was right.”

Dean felt a warmth rush through his chest. He looked down at their hands, then back at Castiel. “You missed something in our futures.”

Castiel tilted his head a little. “What?”

Dean ducked down to kiss him and felt Castiel smile before kissing him back. He hadn’t needed his palm read to know it would feel so right.

When they pulled away, Dean asked, a little breathless, “Do I get that last palm reading for free?”

Castiel laughed. “Only if you ensure that what I saw comes true.” He intertwined his fingers in Dean’s and Dean nodded.

“It’s a deal.” And he kissed the fortune teller again.

Tagging: @spnwaywardone @good-things-do-happen-dean @becky-srs

I’ll be writing more destiel fics even with this challenge over so let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list:)

#destiel fic #supernatural #fortune teller cas #fluff #the song called for a crystal ball but i switched it to palm reading bc hands #sry not sry #also beach vacation bc the winchesters need one #real life au #expectingtoflywrites