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i reiterate that they barely know each other

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HELLLLPPPPPP

There’s this deancas fic that DESTROYED ME AND I NEED TO READ IT AGAIN. it’s a deancas fic with sam in it and they go into this cave to find a family kidnapped by werewolves, it’s not werewolves, it’s fallen angels made up of bones and rage. sam accidentally slices deans neck and cas finds dean and has to put dean out of his misery. cas then breaks sams knees to save him time, and then cas tries to escape but ends up dying as well. HELP ME I NEED THIS SO BAD

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cas to dean

your eyes are like the galaxies that i have forever craved

pieces and pieces of peace i wish i could’ve had

hope at last you give me

of what was and what could never be

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im in love with this jfc do more

PHEW! here we are! Sorry for the lack of art lately! I hope this kinda makes up for it! 

I wanted to kinda storyboard a scene from spn! Chelsey requested this scene and boy was it super fun!

I might do more of these who KNOWSS~

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suptober day 16: switch it up!

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

-

During every single hunt, whether it was tulpas in Topeka, or shapeshifters in Sacramento, Dean had always tried to team up with Castiel.

Why?

Well, it was a long and complicated story. But to sum it down, Dean probably had the biggest crush on the damn angel and his feelings haven’t gone away.

Pray the gay away? Nah man. It was pray to the gay. Be bi or die.

In all honesty, Dean was very open about his bisexuality. After it sort of slipped out to Sam and his younger brother had no reaction (and it may or may not have been that his deadbeat dad was gone) and so he didn’t care who knew.

He could stand on a stage, wearing a bi flag on his back, having his dick out for any men or women who wanted a taste, and he wouldn’t give a flipping fuck.

However, he hasn’t had sex in two years. Why? Oh yeah, cause of the crush. Heads over heals crush that no man or woman could take away. He had tried to pretend the kisses and love were the angel, but none if it worked. It wasn’t what he imagined of, dreamed of.

If a djinn got his hands on him again, then who the fuck knows if Dean would stay or not. At least the djinn would give Dean what he wanted.

Often times he got angry at Castiel for not doing anything. But he couldn’t blame him.

Dean would never tell anybody this, but there was often times he cried himself to sleep because of how unfair life was in general. How unfair it was that Dean could never just get what he wanted, what he always craved.

At that moment, he was ticked. Just sitting there as Sam and Castiel rambled on about the hunt that he wasn’t paying attention to. However, that ass sitting on that chair though.

Jesus Christ.

“What about you, Dean?” Sam asked, his arms folded, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah. I mean, this rugaru seems pretty badass.”

“We’re hunting an Ōkami, Dean.” Sam pealed his attention away from Jack, who was bouncing on the bed sitting down.

“That’s what I said.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean got up from the motel’s table and slammed the chair against the edge of it.

Castiel looked up at him fearfully, as he knew Dean’s angry face. “D—“

“I need a drink. I’ll be back.” Dean snapped and left the motel, almost slamming the door.

God he was so fucking angry. Sam that day had been a little bitch boy and Jack was annoying and Castiel was oblivious to Dean’s obvious flirting and nothing was going his way.

Baby’s engine has sputtered and barely came to life, so he had to fix that before they went back to Kansas. So they were probably all stuck in deadbeat Wyoming for a few extra days.

He had stepped in a puddle and ruined his favorite pair of socks. They had good grip and were fairly new, but the muddy water from the puddle made them unwearable for the time being.

The stupid hunt wasn’t going anywhere. They were lost on just one hint on where the octopus or oak tree, or whatever the fuck it was called was.

He just needed to beat the shut out of something. Or someone. Anything.

He walked a little while away from the motel and found a junkyard that he noticed they had passed by when he was driving yesterday. There were tens or hundreds of old cars that nobody was using anymore. Perfect.

He found a bent crowbar and just as he was about to smash an old, rusted ‘69 Camarillo, a vibration and ringing sound went off in his pocket.

Fuck you, Sam.

“Hello?” Dean sighed, showing irritation in his voice more than he should’ve.

“Hey, so Cas and Jack are going downtown and I’m doing more research.”

“Wait— why did Jack and Cas go?

“I dunno. You weren’t there, so...”

“Yeah but— you know... my rule.”

The rule was a little complicated. Dean paired up with Castiel because ‘one angel and one human are better than two humans and two angels because the angel can protect the human on one team and the same for the second team.’

Which was bullshit. Dean just wanted to see his ass in tight pants and hear his whiskey and leather-like voice interrogate people.

Okay, it’s probably annoying that Dean keeps thinking about his ass. But it was a pretty nice ass. Can’t blame him.

“Alright. Well, sorry.”

“I always go with Cas.”

“I know. I guess I just thought of switching it up this hunt.”

“But you’re ugly as hell.”

“And Cas isn’t?”

Dean could hear his stupid shit-eating grin behind the fucking phone.

Instead of answering to his dumbass comment, Dean had hung up.

In all honesty, the day just wasn’t going his way.

Walking back to the motel, seeing his Baby from a distance, he quickened his pace to grab some things from the trunk.

But as he was walking, a piece of thread on his plaid jacket caught in a nail inside of a telephone pole. Not realizing it to start with, he continued walking, his hands in his pockets, squinting at the sun like he wanted to explode it.

He turned a corner and his plaid jacket had ripped with a loud sound. Beneath his right armpit, there was a giant hole revealing his undershirt.

Great.

He opened the motel door and quickly shut it as fast, then bee-lined straight to his suitcase and shrugged off his plaid shirt.

“Dean, you alright.”

“Hell no!” he barked, probably an octave higher than he normally spoke.

Sam, sitting down with his books and laptop, stood up to walk over to Dean. He didn’t treat him like some rabid animal, but normally.

“You know you can talk about it. I know about your feelings your C—“

“DON’T... finish that.”

“Dean. Please,” he continued. “It’s really hard to love somebody when you don’t think they love you back. But Cas really does. I know he does.”

“How do you know Sam!? Come on. It’s not like you’re an astrologist with some fuckin’ tarot cards or something.” Dean pathetically threw his hands up in the air, causing a loud smacking sound when he put them back down.

“Because he told me he does.”

Hold on.

What?

“You’re kidding.” Dean laughed.

“Dean, I’ve been in between this feud with you and Cas for about twelve years now. Do you really think Cas hasn’t told me? He told me post-purgatory. That’s when you don’t me too.” Sam paused, taking in a breath. “He said he’s so madly in love with you that it hurts, Dean. Hurts.”

It was like all of the sudden the world stopped. Dean’s heart rattled in his ribs and it felt as if vines were growing all around, permeating his lungs in such a way that he couldn’t breathe.

Cas loved him.

Later, Dean finally saw that ass in action.

And he loved him too. They both did.

(tags below)

@potato-painter @samhainsam

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suptober day 15: third eye

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

-

“Make sure you shower daily, alright? Real important for humans. Eat, dude. Eat when ya get hungry. Clothes are in the closet ‘n drawer, Netflix password is written on a sticky note on the laptop. Porn is free, use it all ya want. Just— be safe, man. Please.”

Castiel nodded intently, listening to Dean’s words like it was holy text. He and Sam shut the door and that was that.

Dean opened it again. “Call if you need me!” Then he shut it again.

The hunter sighed, worry already filling him up. He made sure Cas had everything before he left for this stupid hunt in Nebraska. He was tempted to call Cas even though it had been 2.55 seconds since he just looked at those pretty blues from above, but Sam already walking had changed his mind.

“You love him, don’t you?” Sam told him, wind blowing in his face and his hands stuffed in his pockets, squinting his eyes at Dean.

“Pfft. No way, man.”

“Dean.”

The mentioned stared off into the distance, avoiding eye contact then huffing. “Yeah.” he replied like he was ashamed. “Since... since ‘08.”

“You’ve loved him for twelve years like that and you’ve never said anything?”

Pathetically, Dean cried out. “What am I supposed to do?! He’s a friggin’ angel,” He kicked a rock and sighed again, then muttered. “Fell in love with a damn angel.”

Sam shook his head. “You gotta tell him, Dean. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Tears shining in his eyes, Dean finally made eye contact. “He could leave, you idiot! I’d tell him and he’d just dip or somethin’. He doesn’t like men. He doesn’t like me,” A tear slipped down his face. “What dumbass would?”

It was like Sam had a third eye. How on earth did he know? Was it that obvious? Did him leaning into Castiel’s touch too much quirk an eyebrow? Could he read minds? Damn, maybe it was too obvious.

Ever since meeting the damn sexiest angel alive, Dean could say he was goody goody for him. Maybe the staring and sweet talk was too un-platonic for Sam.

It definitely was too obvious.

“Dean, listen to yourself.”

“I am!”

“No, you’re not. What’s the point in loving somebody if you don’t ever tell them you love ‘em?”

Dean thought for a moment. “I...” He had no answer.

“Just— think about it, okay? You can tell Cas when you’re ready, but you can’t hide it forever.”

He nodded, listening to his words.

Later that night, Dean fiddled with the buttons on the side of his phone, twirling it in his fingers and tapping his feet on the ground. Two clicks and Castiel would be on the other line. Three words and it could either decide Dean’s destiny or doom.

Two clicks.

Three words.

“Cas—“

Dean licked his lips.

“Cas, I love you—“

It was done. It was finished. Dean had told Castiel the truth. The truth that he had bottled up for twelve damn years. Way too long for any man or woman to hold in a secret for.

“I love you too, Dean.”

And way too long for any man to not kiss an angel.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

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suptober day 14: fun & games

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

-

“It was all fun and games until somebody got hurt.”

That was a motto that Dean has heard a lot growing up, playing with Sam. For instance, his dad telling him that and tsk’ing when he had showed him his sprained arm from jumping off the roof, pretending to be a superhero with sheets as a cape. Or on TV, Dean had heard that a lot, from various parents scolding their children.

However, he never thought, as a grown ass man, he would have to repeat that to another grown ass man because he had broken his leg playing Just Dance.

“What does that mean?” Castiel asked, elevating his leg on three stacked pillows, a glass of chocolate milk with a bendy straw on the bedside stand, half drunken.

“It means that ya had fun singing and dancing with Charlie but it’s not fun sitting here bedridden, is it?” Dean explained.

Nodding his head no, Castiel winced in pain. “Who knew Carly Rey Jepsen would hurt somebody like she hurt me...”

That caused a full-on, belly roaring laugh from Dean. He leaned down and moved Castiel’s sweaty hair out of his face, and kissed his forehead. Normal people would think that it was gross, but that word didn’t even fathom in his vocabulary for Castiel. Plus, Dean was far from normal and he was far over that.

The ex-angel apologized for the inconveniences he had caused prior.

“No need to be sorry, babe.” Dean told him.

“But we won’t be able to have intercourse.”

“I still got my mouth and hands, don’t I?” Dean smiled. That had caused a blush from Castiel. “Plus, you’re not just sex, Cas. You know that.”

And now, Castiel had used that phrase wherever they went. He would use it when someone dropped their pen, causing a confused look from them. He’d use it when a waitress spilled her coffee, making Dean snicker under his breath.

The funny thing was, Dean never corrected him.

He probably never planned to.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

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reblog if u think castiel is a VERY GOOD ANGEL

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bitch i’m lowkey crying—

do you have a tag list i could be apart of? that was simply beautiful! i love your writing!

Suptober 2020, Day 18: Dark & Stormy Night (destiel, ~700 words, light hurt/comfort)

Out of all the habits Castiel picked up when he became human, one of the strangest is sitting outside when it rains. 

The first time they’re at a motel, and it’s the kind of soft rain that drums a steady heartbeat onto the rooftops and lulls worried minds to sleep. 

“You think he’s okay?” Sam asks, staring out the window at Castiel, who is sitting on the curb under the cover of the walkway. 

Dean shrugs. “He was a weird angel, now he’s a weird dude,” he replies, but he stays by the window just in case. Cas comes back in an hour later, after Sam has gone to bed, and he’s shivering but Dean hasn’t seen him this peaceful in a long time. He greets the former angel with a blanket and guides him to bed, cocooning him with warm arms and the comforter. He smells vaguely like petrichor and ozone, the way he used to when he still walked among the stars. Dean buries his nose in dark hair and thinks he understands. 

Keep reading

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deancas fics that people maybe don't know about but should:

Clean Air (120k words, NC-17)

How to Keep Time (7k words, R)

Rolling Wheat, So it Rolls (53k words, R)

An Exploration of Habitat (11k words, R)

legend!verse (12k words, PG-13)

White Noise (31k words, R)

A Case for Evolution (9k words, R)

a certain light (24k words, PG-13)

Rockfall (37k words, R)

The Weight of Your Crimes (26k words, NC-17)

Lawrence High’s Best and Brightest (9k words, PG-13)

Aventine (76k words, R)

Your Heart Makes (52k words, R)

Cas and Dean’s Infinite Playlist (48k words, NC-17)

The Opal & The Sapphire (28k words, NC-17)

Graceless (47k words, NC-17)

Pacific (22k words, R)

sight of the sun (16k words, R)

We’ll Stay Together ‘Till We’re Ghosts (36k words, NC-17)

with the dawn of redeeming grace (17k words, G)

Tales of Brave Ulysses (56k words, PG-13)

The Joy is in the Process (9k words, R)

Rock ‘n’ Roll Queer Bar ‘verse (127k words, NC-17)

Plot Holes (160k words, PG-13)

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suptober day 13: ladies

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

-

Sitting in a bar, Dean sat with Sam on his right while Cas was on his across the building, sitting in a booth. All went well except for...

The sexual tension between this lady and Castiel was high and Dean nearly smashed down his shot glass on the floor.

Sam, being the stupid, younger and annoying brother he was, had noticed the change in demeanor when a woman had approached Castiel and they hit it off immediately. Her arm was snaked around his waist and they were chatting very closely.

“Dean, you need another?” Sam inquired.

“Very. Give it.” Dean’s eyes never glued away from the woman and Castiel, watching them like a hawk.

Downing the shot glass and slamming it down on the counter made Sam quirk his eyebrow up. He tapped his foot against the metal bars of the stool, debating whether or not he should downright murder the woman.

Shit would hit the fan if he got his hands on her.

A third shot, however, drowned out the numbing feeling that Dean got when he remembered he could never be with the angel. Judging by what Castiel was doing to this woman, and what she was doing with him, it was true.

Sam tried to stop Dean from leaving but he did anyway. The woman had whispered something in Castiel’s ear and Dean just had enough of it. The sound of the doors slamming were covered by the noise of the bar, so Castiel had not noticed.

The rain poured on Dean’s head but he couldn’t give a damn. Stupid love, stupid women, stupid bars.

Stupid angels.

Stupid angels and their sex-messy hair. Stupid angels with their soft hands and sweet, gummy smiles.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Dean.”

The rain was so loud that Dean had barely noticed the sound of Castiel swooping in and his wings fluttering.

“Sorry, Cas. ‘M walking home.” Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued walking, ignoring the man who was chasing after him hopelessly.

“Dean, I’m—“

Dean stopped in his trail to look at Castiel, rain water soaking his hair, causing some curls to already bare up.

“You’re what, Cas? Hopelessly in love?”

“Yes!”

Dean huffed and walked again, but Castiel grabbed his shoulder and slammed his lips on Dean’s.

The taste of his lips was addictive, and the angel’s hands intertwined in his hair, seeping the water out of it, their chests touching with eagerness, slotting their lips like the last piece of a puzzle.

Dean pulled apart, Castiel’s lip shining with mixed saliva. They both were panting in the rain, cars flying by and the wind blowing piercingly in their faces.

“You—“ Dean stammered, lost for words.

“Yes, Dean. With you.” Castiel completed his sentence.

“But the lady—“

“I told her and she was giving me advice...” Castiel hung his head.

“But—“

“She started flirting with me and I told her I was in love so she stopped.”

Dean didn’t have any words except for tens and hundreds of more kisses, exploring Castiel’s body.

And a million more to come.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

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suptober day 12: rewind

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

-

Pie was a guilty pleasure. While not necessarily a guilty one, it was still a mighty pleasure to Dean.

Almost as if tradition, Dean’s husband, Castiel, made him a different kind of pie every Saturday. Both of them would be off their jobs, as the weekends were a blessing in disguise, and Castiel would make pie for dessert after dinner.

Now, Dean never necessarily asked Castiel to make these pies, but he did anyway with a smile on his face and lips ready to kiss. It was something that the man had always wanted to do, warmth in his heart, ever since he realized his sexuality.

Meeting Castiel over four years ago was to start with agonizing, as the love for him was permitted. However, grabbing up the strength to talk to him was the best decision he had ever made.

This week was pumpkin pie, as the October weather forecast was chilly and Halloween was creeping up.

Dean was laying down on the couch, his hot dog pants and ‘Send Noods’ socks kept him warm. When he had first bought them, Castiel had belly chuckled and spooned him in the night. The oven radiated heat and Dean’s hands were cold so he popped his knuckles, causing a hiss of pain from Castiel.

“Stop doing that, silly!” Castiel scolded. “You’re gonna get arthritis!”

“At least it ain’t a cancer scare. My fingers are cold.” he responded, still cracking his knuckles.

“Dean.” Castiel said sternly.

“What?”

“Don’t.”

Dean looked down. “Yeah I know... sorry.”

“It’s okay, beloved.”

Dean repeated the nickname on his lips, silently. Beloved. He has always loved that nickname. The first time Castiel had called him that was in bed and it was the best sound he had ever heard.

The cancer scare was true. Dean had started feeling chest pains, and almost couldn’t breathe when he laid down flat. They went to the doctor and they told him that it could be a heart tumor. Turns out, it was only heart burn and they gave him medicine for it, but the drop in both of their stomachs was still scarred in their minds for all of eternity.

“About five minutes, alright?” Cas told him, tilting his head and wiping his hands on the handkerchief.

Dean, love-sickened and smiling like Castiel hung the stars, reached out and motioned Castiel to come to him. Unable to resist the urge, Castiel succumbed to Dean’s puppy eyes and laid in his arms sprawled across the couch.

Five minutes had rolled around of them cuddling and Dean made grabbing motions out to Castiel as he stood up to get the pie out of the oven.

“Dean...” Castiel said sternly. “Would you rather have burnt pumpkin pie for a few minutes of cuddling, or a delicious pumpkin pie and better and more cuddling afterwards?”

Dean huffed. “Guess you’re right.” he replied with a smile hidden in his jaw.

After the pie had cooled down, Castiel served it to him at the kitchen’s bar. Putting his elbow on the counter and cupping his own jaw with his hand, Castiel stared at the man like he was the finest piece of art he had ever seen.

Dean took a bite and practically melted into the gooey taste of pumpkin. He offered it to Castiel, like he almost always did, but he simply shook his head no.

“Cas, why don’t you ever eat your own pie?”

“Dean...” Castiel blushed.

“What is it?”

“I don’t like pie.” He shrugged.

Dean practically gasped.

“Cas. Of course you like pie!” Dean said accusatory, laughing. “You make me some every week!”

“I don’t, Dean. Have you ever seen me eat one?”

Dean pondered for a minute, and his conclusion was the same as anyone else’s would be. “No.”

“Then there’s your answer. I don’t like pie, but I still make it for you.”

“Hold on. Rewind. You’re meaning to tell me, I’ve known you for four years, we’ve been married for two... and you’re telling me that you don’t like pie but you still make it for me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”

A small smile appeared on Castiel’s face. “You told me that you would never marry someone who didn’t like pie.”

Dean’s jaw slacked. “You... let me say this again— you’re telling me, you don’t like pie.”

“Yes.”

“And... you never told me because I said I’d never marry someone who didn’t like it.”

“Yes.”

“Because you thought I wouldn’t marry you.”

“...Yes.”

A long pause of contemplation.

“Cas, you’re a fuckin’ dork.”

“I know that.”

Dean motioned, once again, for Castiel to come to him. He did and Dean enclosed him in his arms, the earthy and cinnamon-like smell of Castiel filling his senses. He was everything he ever dreamed and more.

It was now tradition, that every week, Dean had bought Castiel ice cream (hisfavorite dessert) to go along with his pie separately. Castiel would enjoy his ice cream and Dean would enjoy the pie, snuggling on the couch together enjoying the fall weather.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

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suptober day 11: rock & roll

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

(based on a true story)

Castiel stared at Dean’s laptop, completely in awe, smiling pridefully at himself. The electronic screen of the computer illuminated on his face, making his eyes grow tired because of the past research he’s been doing in the middle of the night.

Dean would be so happy!

Now all he had to do was wait for him to come back to the bunker.

Trying to figure out how to not be bored — something that has happened to him since he turned human; a very monotonous thing — Castiel looked around the library, searching for some type of book to read.

He found one and sat down in his original seat. He hoped ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ would be a good choice. If not, then maybe he could give it to Dean and hopefully he would like it.

-

Turns out, it was not. Castiel had read it in approximately ten minutes and it was the most weirdest piece of literature the ex-angel thinks he’s ever read.

The imagery of burning it in his head, he stood up to go and do so. However, once he stood up, his Led Zeppelin (curtesy of Dean) t-shirt clung to him with sweat. Although it was late January, it was still hot as fuck in Lebanon.

“Cas!” Dean called out. “I’m back! Are you here?”

Castiel could hear the smile in his voice. Placing down the book, Castiel closed his eyes to zap over to Dean on the indoor balcony.

Oh yeah. No powers.

He awkwardly waited for Dean to walk down the steps, and then he ran to the bottom as Dean jumped in his arms.

“Hey, baby...” he muttered into Castiel’s neck. “Missed me that much?”

Castiel nodded his head up and down. Thumbing Dean’s hipbones, Castiel tried to pick him up but he couldn’t.

Too weak.

Dean noticed that Castiel acutely tried to, but he wasn’t successful, and he noticed the flicker of guilt in his boyfriends eyes.

“Cas...”

“I... I have a surprise for you!” He changed the subject quickly, smiling.

“You do?” Dean replied mischievously, smirking. “What is it, angel?”

Castiel hated when he was called angel. It just wasn’t true. He has been an angel, a seraph, for his whole life and just recently, it was all stripped away from him.

However, Dean, the love of his whole life, has helped him more than anybody or anything has to him. He loved him with his whole being and would go to the ends of the universe for him. He was more beautiful than all the galaxies and supernovas and sunsets and sunrises that Castiel has ever seen.

Although Dean had another thing in mind.

“Come to the table...” Castiel smiled, holding Dean’s hand. Hand holding was Castiel’s comfort when he was stressed out, especially when he hasn’t seen Dean in over twenty-four hours.

Dean saw the book and his eyes widened.

“Cas—“

“Yes?”

“Are you— did—“ His face was probably the shade of a tomato, he was that embarrassed,

“Yes I did!” Castiel smiled at the computer, the website still on.

“I’m not—“ Dean muttered, his hand shaking.

“Huh? You don’t like it?”

Dean hung his head and rubbed a hand through his hair tired, “Angel, ‘m not into that stuff.”

“You’re not into rock and roll? I thought that was something you really liked...”

A switch flicked in Dean’s mind and he looked at the screen of the computer. Two picture of tickets were on the screen and the initials said “CCR” at the top.

For January 24th.

His birthday. Tomorrow.

“Cas— you... you’re fuckin’ with me!” The hunter’s eyes widened to the size of the sun. No way in hell did he get CCR tickets! “You got us tickets to see fuckin’ Creedance Clearwater Revival!?”

He paused. “Yes! Yes I did, Dean!” His eyes wrinkled and Dean’s favorite gummy smile appeared on his face.

Dean wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed Castiel with such force that it toppled him backward onto the table. Humming satisfactorily in his throat, Castiel pushed the book off the table as Dean straddled his lap.

Creedance Clearwater Revival was one of Dean’s favorite bands, and Cas knew that. Fortunate Son was an absolute classic and Dean could not wait to see them in a concert,

The same thing went for Dean to Castiel. He was his everything and would go his limits, life or death, to be with his angel.

The next morning was Dean’s birthday and Castiel had woken up with grogginess. He hardly got any sleep (for many reasons) but he was determined to make Dean breakfast.

Dean, last night, had told Castiel that to start with he thought the surprise was fucking ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ and Castiel heartily laughed to that. No way in hell. However, placing a chaste kiss on his favorite pair of lips, Castiel told him otherwise.

Breakfast was burnt but Dean still ate it with a smile on his face and butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

-

Later, was the concert and Dean was telling Castiel all the facts he knew about CCR.

“CCR is an absolute fuckin’ classic, baby. You’re gonna love it. John Fogerty’s been doin’ rock ‘n roll since he was eight years old!”

Dean rambled on about the band with one hand on the wheel and the other hand in Castiel’s. The concert was about an hour away and Dean had downloaded the virtual tickets on his phone (Sam had to show him how to) so they couldn’t get lost like paper tickets could.

Fortunate Son played on one of Dean’s mixtapes and he began jamming out as he prompted Castiel to dance along too.

Singing the lyrics while Castiel guessed them, they laughed until tears came into their eyes.

Not only were they the love of each other’s lives, they were also each other’s best friends. Nothing else mattered but each other.

Dean, wearing a CCR shirt that he had quickly bought at the store since he didn’t have one, he hopped out of the car and opened Castiel’s door just so he could swoop down and steal a kiss. They loved to call those types bandit kisses.

“Hey! Now I need one.” Castiel complained and stepped out. Dean almost drooled.

He was wearing black jeans that may or may not have fitted too tight (on purpose, thanks Dean) and an over-large AC/DC shirt with a pair of sunglasses. People flooded in the outside mosh pit, and Dean warned him about the dangers of moshing, and how to avoid being punched in the face. Noticing the angel’s nervous smile, Dean smiled bigger.

Listening intently to his boyfriend, Castiel nervously nodded. However, Dean knew his angel’s worried face and placed a heart-melting kiss on his lips. Smiling together, they went into the crowd.

Dean looked around and saw that in the middle of the stage, the logo of Cross Canadian Ragweed was placed on top of it.

Oh.

“Cas...”

He peered around and saw multiple people dressed up for a country rock band, not rock and roll. Upon further inspection, Dean and Castiel stuck out like sore thumbs.

Suddenly, the lights on the concert stage turned on and people cheered and clapped, and even Castiel did.

“Baby, no—“ Dean chuckled, grabbing a tiny fistful of the hem of Castiel’s shirt, tugging at it to get his attention.

Blue simmering in Castiel’s eyes like diamonds, he turned around and had the biggest smile on his face. “Aren’t you excited?!”

“Babe, this is Cross Canadian Ragweed! Not CCR!” He had to scream over the crowd who started to rile up.

“You mean I didn’t get you the right ones?!” Castiel painfully yelled back. He looked as if somebody had kicked his little puppy.

“No! But it’s okay!” Dean pulled his waist toward him, their noses touching and their lips ghosting against each other.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.”

“I’m not an angel, Dean.”

“But you’re still mine. Clipped wings or not...”

Their lips met.

Although Castiel wasn’t perfect, the night was and so was his birthday.

Cross Canadian Ragweed pretty much sucked ass, but holding Castiel’s hands and kissing him whenever possible was his favorite thing to do.

However, he was perfect in Dean’s eyes no matter what he did. Or didn’t do.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

[choruscas]

suptober day 10: sweet rides

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

(THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS! ONCE IT’S OUT, I’LL EDIT THIS ONE AND LINK TO THE SECOND PART ONCE IT’S FINISHED!)

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

October 10th, 1890 - Lawrence, Kansas

Castiel drew his breath in as the cold air of fall hit his face. He looked around the town, seeing no signs of anybody out.

Most of them were probably in saloons or shops of some sort, drinking their sorrows away with cheap whiskey and tapping all their fortunes out with gambling.

He had lived in this town his whole life, but downtown he has only recently grown familiar with it.

Two months ago, his parents disappeared from him. And the rest of his family either moved away from Lawrence or were arrested for felony and murder charges. Castiel wasn’t like that. Being the youngest in the Novak family was hard, but he managed. He was the last of the Novak’s and he never made any promises to carry the family name, since he wasn’t interested in women of any kind.

So he wouldn’t. Once he drew his dying and final breath, the Novak’s would be no more.

However, in the meantime, he could make fault of his name. He wasn’t the proudest of being a Novak, but like previously said, he managed.

Walking through the dirt roads, marked with horses hooves and wagon’s wheels after years of use, Castiel found himself at the Roadhouse, like he did every Friday night.

He enjoyed the company there, and the beer was cheap but it was decent. He wasn’t much of a drinker, as his mom had drank her heart out all his life, but alcohol was the norm, so he occasionally had a beer or two.

He went inside, pushing the doors forward to be greeted by Ellen Harvelle, the Roadhouse’s proud owner. She was serving a man, who Castiel had never seen before, with big ears and a long nose.

“Hello Ellen. Is Jo working tonight?” he smiled at her while approaching the counter. Jo Harvelle was younger and was also Ellen’s only daughter.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “She’s got studyin’ so she’s workin’ on that upstairs.”

Castiel nodded and looked around the room, there were the usuals that were normally around, like Bobby Singer with his friend Rufus Turner, Meg Masters (a devil in disguise, ask anybody) and...

Dean Winchester.

Town’s heartthrob. And Castiel would never admittedly say this, but also the only man Castiel had currently sought out for.

About a month ago, Dean’s father had died and so him and his brother moved all the way from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Lawrence. He became a regular and were familiar with some of the townspeople, since he had lived there until he was four. His mother had died in the paper’s fire at their house, and so they moved across the country. Since the town was celebrating its thirty-sixth anniversary soon, it meant that the town was still young, and so was Dean. John Winchester — thy boys’ father, was a state-famous cowboy, which gave Dean and his brother Sam a good name.

However, Castiel’s has barely usurped a full-on conversation with the man. Castiel was fairly confident, but pretty boys like Dean made his throat close up. Normally their conversations were around five minutes long, until some girl comes and ushers him away.

Although Castiel has never heard that Dean has gotten lucky with any of the women in the town. Maybe he kept it a secret, or maybe he wasn’t interested in sex. With a body like his, Castiel was surprised he didn’t. He could do so very easily, with anybody in the town who was willing.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean called out, waving a large arm up in the sky. Next to him was who he thinks was his younger brother, with shaggy hair and a lanky body, Sam Winchester.

Assuming Dean’s gesture was meant to usher him over, Castiel got up from his stool and walked over, taking off his black cowboy hat and placing it on the pool table once he got to his destination. Dean tipped his Stetson in greeting and flashed a toothy smile to Castiel, causing his cheeks to heat up.

“You here for a beer, angel?” Dean asked.

That was new.

“Uhm, yes. Like I normally am.” Castiel replied solemnly, a little bit skeptical since Dean was being extra flashy today.

Perhaps it was because Sam was around.

“Well,” he started. “I’d like ya to meet Sammy, my lil’ brother. Sammy, Castiel. Castiel, Sammy.”

Castiel nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The younger brother stuck his arm out, signaling a handshake. It was firm, despite his young age. “You too.”

Dean gave his brother a grin and a wink and Sam had almost immediately left to go to the counter, instantly striking up a conversation with Ellen.

Odd.

“So, have you heard about Lucifer?” The question just popped up out of the blue. Dean was leaning on his cue pole, his hands over the top and his chin resting on his knuckles.

Castiel quirked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“The murderer, guy got his face on the wanted posters ‘bout two months ago. People are sayin’ he murdered two people and some animals or somethin’. I don’t gossip like some people do here but it’s somethin’ I’ve heard goin’ ‘round.”

He licked his lips. He hasn’t seen any wanted posters of any kind, so either he was blind or oblivious to his surroundings. Hopefully the latter.

“I haven’t. Is his real name Lucifer?” Castiel asked, now engaged in the conversation, curious.

“Naw, Lucas or somethin’. Lucas... Shurley, I’m pretty sure.” He bit his lip, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

Fuck.

“Lucas Shurley? I...” Castiel’s mouth went dry and the world suddenly got dizzy. “I need to sit down— o-or leave... I—“

Dean put down his cue stick, and it clattered to the ground. He gracefully swept over to where Castiel started leaning over the pool table. He put his hands on his back and laced his fingers with his to support him up.

“Cas?” His voice was soft, like of those of a kitten. “Hey... hey, man. Are you alright?”

“I have to go home—“ Castiel started, his stomach feeling like thousands of volcanic ruptures.

“I’ll take ya, man. How far do you live?”

Castiel looked up to face Dean. “About— about two miles up north. You... I can walk.”

“Walk? No. Where’s your horse?”

“Don’t have one anymore. Horse disappeared along with my parents.” Castiel said like it was nothing.

In all honesty, he didn’t believe it was nothing. He just didn’t want to worry Dean.

It was everything. Chuck and Naomi Novak were his favorite people in the world. Sure, the both of them smoked their lungs dry but without them, Castiel would be a goner. They’ve saved him, fixed him, in more ways and times than he could count.

“I’ll take ya, Baby can fit two.”

“Baby?”

“My black mare. God, she’s a beaut. Love o’ my life.” Dean smiled with pride.

Castiel nodded. That’s how Lincoln was to Castiel and his family. He was a very obedient crime colored horse, and he was very fond of him. However, after his parents disappearance, Lincoln had gone with them. Over and over Castiel theorized where they could’ve gone, but nothing of the sorts came to mind. They’ve always sort of stayed around Lawrence. Never the adventurous type, which was why their disappearance was odd.

Baby was a very comfortable horse, but it was even more comfortable to wrap his hands around Dean’s waist, feeling the rise and fall of his breath against his body. His chest was touching his back and Dean talked to him as Baby slowly rode ahead. Dean had reassured Castiel that since he didn’t feel well, Baby wouldn’t go as fast as she normally would’ve.

Hiding his blush in the night sky, Castiel’s eyes were weary and droopy. He never even got the time to get a beer, nor talk to anyone else. His trip was cut short. However, so was Dean’s.

“Sammy’s a genius, I’m tellin’ ya.” Dean filled the empty silence with something to talk about. “Been studyin’ to go to this new college called Stanford. ‘Bout five years old, fairly new. It’s all the way in California, poor guy.”

Castiel didn’t respond, but Dean could feel the nod of his body against him.

“You got any siblings?” Dean genuinely asked, cocking his head back to meet eye to eye with Castiel. Dean seemed like a good horseback, so he trusted him.

Castiel thinned his lips. “Yes... two. They don’t live around here anymore. Older brothers... uhm, Michael and Gabriel and-“

He stopped himself.

“And what?” Worry sort of filled Dean’s voice.

“I also have an older half brother... but I don’t talk to him. He sort of made my life a living hell growing up.”

“‘M sorry to hear that, Cas.”

Baby stopped in her tracks slowly, and Dean eyed Castiel’s cottage. It was on the outskirts of town, and the wooden place wasn’t the biggest, but it managed. He was proud of it. It’s been there since Lawrence founded in ‘64 and he wasn’t planning on demolishing it anytime soon.

Dean hopped off of Baby and grabbed Castiel’s hand to help him. The sickness started riling back in his gut and he walked to his front door quickly.

The wooden patio could barely hold one person without creaking in vain, crying out because of the heavy steps heaving on it. Let alone two. However, Castiel couldn’t tempt away from the green eyes and peppered freckles face with a smile he’s grown so fond of since Dean moved back.

Dean took off his hat and placed it on his chest, his fingers curling around the crease and pinch of it. He looked down.

“I just realized ya forgot your hat at the Roadhouse.” Dean chuckled, his laugh music to Castiel’s ears. “Could I stop by tomorrow afternoon ‘n give it to ya? I promise I won’t mess wit’ it.”

Castiel nodded, his face becoming red. “Thank you, Dean.” He paused, then he furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean simply blinked and didn’t hesitate. “Because you made me realize that angel’s were real.”

They said their goodbyes and Castiel laid on his bed, first taking off all his clothing except for his undergarments. His sheets were cold with lack of use, as it has been a while since he’s used them.

Thoughts of Dean and his freckled body filled Castiel’s head. The imagery of his cock in Dean’s soft ass pumped his heart and he bit he lip, to try and attempt himself from getting hard. He had nothing but his hand to relieve himself, so he couldn’t tonight.

However, if he got lucky with Dean, he would be a sweet ride indeed.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

[choruscas]

suptober day 09: electric

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

-

Dean stared at his computer, trying to do research. Now he meant trying for a reason.

Trying as in, attempting to do something but completely failing because a celestial being with an extremely hot body just got done fucking working out. The way he walked out, sweat beading his grey shirt and sweeping through, out of breath and drinking water like it was nobody’s business, was so human that it ached his heart.

Jesus Christ, he was going to hell.

Again.

Maybe Castiel could pull him out of perdition again. Maybe grip him somewhere more intimate than his shoulder.

Woah.

Okay, anyways. Dean was scratching the back of his neck as a Castiel sat down in the chair, sighing with relief that he got to finally sit down. The hunter could see the angel’s biceps, which were veiny with exhaustion and Dean’s knees buckled, and he wasn’t even standing.

Dean swallowed, and proceeded to glue his eyes on his computer screen.

Reports from within the tulpa community suggest that these skills, once learned by the host, can be taught to tulpas, allowing them to manifest autonomously and initiate communication with the host whenever they please. Yep. Yuh huh. The core of a tulpa, and what differentiates it from a traditional imaginary friend, is the sense of disassociation between its and the host's conscious experiences. Totally.

Okay, Dean will admit, he wasn’t comprehending what he was reading. Instead, he was watching Castiel as he drank his water, some trickling down his chin. He wiped the water off his face using the bottom of his shirt, revealing a tan sliver of his stomach.

Holy fuck. That was hot.

Castiel ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make a mess of his natural sex hair which Dean would love to pull.

Dean had enough of it. “Cas, you alright?” he asked, peering over the laptop to see his thick thighs in shorts.

Castiel sighed, running another set of five digits through his hair. “Yes. I have come to find that exercise is very relaxing, but the aftermath is uncomfortable.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” he replied with a smirk. “What did you do?”

The angel looked up, contemplating and calculating what he did. In all honesty, he probably did a fuckton which would drag Dean in the dirt compared to what he could limit himself to.

The October air was cool and crisp, and the air conditioning was on at about 72°. Normally it was around mid-sixties, but the bunker got cold easily, so the air outside affected it mightily. Sam had complained that it was too hot, but Dean had argued and said he was older, so he got dibs on the AC.

“About two-hundred ten push-ups, um... seventy bench presses - which I think weighed approximately a ton - and a plank for fifteen minutes. Not too bad.” Castiel smiled thinly. “It has been a while since I have worked out, so I’m starting out slow.”

Dean’s eyeballs nearly fell out of his sockets, staring at Castiel like he had two heads. In all honesty, his true form probably had two heads, but when Dean had asked before, Castiel had simply blushed and left the room.

The hunter coughed into his fist. “Yeah. Not too bad. Good job, buddy.” he said, voice straining because the piercing blue eyes were staring at him like he hung the moon and stars, with such content that it made Dean wanna get get on his knees.

And it may or may not be because of the thought of Castiel working out was so numbfucking hot that it made his brain rot.

He nodded. “Thank you, Dean.” Castiel replied sincerely.

-

Castiel had left the room to do whatever healthily-bodied angels do — thanks a fuckin’ lot Sammy, now Cas is a health freak — and Dean continued his research. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the kitchen to drown out whatever the fuck gay thoughts he had for that man, like he normally did.

Fuck. Dean had always known he was bi, but he didn’t know how Sam would feel about it, or Castiel, in that matter. Could angels be homophobic? Fallen angels? He didn’t think so, but he didn’t want to risk being shunned by the people he loved.

And... were in love with.

But that wasn’t the point, what the point was is that Dean may or may not have been having a major bi panic because—

Oh. Fuck.

“Dean?”

Castiel had walked out into the crow’s nest wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair was soaked with water that was messier than Dean had ever seen it. His hipbones were sharp with healthiness and exercise, and Dean felt as if he could slice his fingers on the V-line once he got his hands on them.

His skin was so tan and his whole body was just absolute perfection.

Practically wiping away the drool from his mouth, Dean shook his head. “Uh— what’s up, Cas?”

His eyes were practically glued on his chest, thoughts of... things filled his head and heart precariously.

Suddenly his pants hardened with want for the angel. He couldn’t control it and he grabbed one of his books and hastily put it on his lap, nearly dropping it in the process.

“I left my clothes inside of the dryer and when I went to go get them, somebody took them.”

Thank God for little brothers.

“I think Sam must’a took ‘em. He’s... uh— he’s not here anymore. Probably practicing some sign language with Eileen.” Dean thinned his lips and nodded.

He then forced himself to look back at his book, his arm flat on the table and his fingers on the edge of the page.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t give in to the temptation. Rejection was one of his fears, and who knows what would happen to his heart if Castiel rejected him. His mind would be flooded with guilt and the angel probably couldn’t look at him the same again. If that happened, Dean’s heart would be shattered and nothing else would matter anymore. Castiel was his everything, and he couldn’t just throw it away because Castiel’s humanism tendencies got the best of him.

“I— uh... I hope you find your clothes...” Dean closed his book shit and began to stand up.

Going to the hallway past a Castiel, Dean practically dragged himself over to his room.

Before he walked too far, somebody had grabbed his shoulder.

“Dean.”His favorite whiskey voice, tinged with the fabric of leather and the smell of black coffee called his name. The way the angel said his name made his bones rattle,

The touch was electrifying.

Dean turned and was met face to face with the oceanic blue eyes that he couldn’t get enough of. The pink lips that he’s always wondered what it would taste like, and the soft skin he always craved to feel.

He found out later that night.

Perfect.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

[choruscas]

jfc that’s hot as fuuuuuuuuuck

Ride ‘em, cowboy. Day 10: Sweet Rides Doing This Thing

[choruscas]

suptober day 08: electric

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

also, i’m so sorry that these stories are late! i went on vacation and i totally forgot my writing ipad and had nothing else to use to post these! hopefully these long oneshots will make it up. thank you!

boss!castiel, assistant!dean

Working two years at an insurance company really had a toll on some people. Sometimes it sagged their skin, brittled their bones, or grayed their hair. Sometimes the bosses made your ears bleed and your nose crinkle, wishing it was five o’clock already.

But not Dean. Sure, he was thirty-two and going on strong, but he wasn’t old compared to the rest. There was still a kick in his step, his bones were mighty and strong (thanks to Sammy’s tips on how to stay fit while literally doing nothing) and maybe he had a little bit of a gut going on, but nothing he couldn’t fix.

His boss? Castiel Novak.

Lots of people didn’t like him, as he had lots of enemies. Dean wasn’t sure why, as he didn’t care. Before he accepted his job as assistant, lots of people told him about Castiel. (“Novak’s numbfuckin’ gorgeous, man.” — “Be careful with that one, he’s pretty rough.” — “He’s like... emotionless.” And those were only a few examples.)

He was stone cold, monotonous, soulless.

Even heartless, some said.

But there was a mighty, mighty problem.

Mr. Novak is the most attractive person in the entire world to Dean. Once he saw a picture of his boss, with his piercing blue eyes and five o’clock shadow, Dean was submissive nearly immediately. In his interview, Dean just could. not. stop. staring. Even if his life depended on it, he could not stop looking at the movement of his broad shoulders, the work of his rough hands, the flickering of his eyes like pure fire.

-

Dean sat in the office’s kitchen during lunch break. Normally he would go out and maybe grab a cheeseburger of sorts but today Mr. Novak seemed very different. He seemed sad, to Dean. And since Dean was in love — no... had a huge crush on his boss, it upset Dean himself.

Eating a spoonful of pudding and sucking on the plastic utensil, April Kelly sat down in a chair at Dean’s table, flattening her skirt before she sat. Dean eyed her suspiciously, as she looked a little revolted by something.

Hushed in a whisper, she asked: “So is it really true? Are you and Mr. Novak... a thing?”

Nearly choking on his spoon, Dean jerked his head back and began a coughing fit. A few other employees looked at Dean whose face began to turn red and the tips of his ears tinged shades of pinks.

There was a lot of things Dean had heard in his life that he had the same question for: what the fuck? For example, walking in on his gym teacher and science teacher going at it like rabbits in the teacher’s lounge, or the time poor seven year old Sammy came home with a broken arm and said that a squirrel had snapped it in half. (In reality, he fell of a tree because he tried to jump to a branch with a squirrel, but little children had dramatic memories.)

But this question? Cream of the crop. Takes the cake. Out of all the questions she could’ve asked. “Hey, are you a diabetic owl too?” Or “Have you dated nineteen Katherine’s all with the same spelling who also dumped you?” And sure, those questions would’ve weirded him out, but this one... just mind boggled him.

How in the fuck could Dean even be remotely in Castiel’s league? Hell, he didn’t even think he was gay.

“No— what? Who said that?” Dean gawked, his eyeballs practically falling out of his head.

April rolled her eyes softly. “Bartholomew.”

Dean huffed explosively. Bartholomew Strautman. World’s biggest fucking idiot in the world.

“That bastard? April, you know that’s not true. You’re smarter than that.”

The assistant knew for a fact that she was not, but he didn’t wanna hurt her feelings for rumors she didn’t even start. Dean’s nickname for Bartholomew was B.S., because that’s normally what he was fucking full of whenever he was around him. Dean’s surprised he’s never swallowed a damn sandal for how many times he stuck his foot in his mouth.

Now, Dean didn’t really like April, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to be nice to her. He was only mean to bitches who were mean to him first, otherwise, it was just insensitive.

“I just hope it’s not true.” she sighed sadly.

Dean quirked his head. “Why?”

“I really like Mr. Novak...” Her voice then became a whisper. “And... I think he likes me too.”

Dean blinked multiple times. “Uh— Yeah. Maybe.”

Her head peaked up to meet Dean eye to eye. “Really?” she exclaimed.

Now, Dean wasn’t really expecting that.How the fuck is he supposed to tell her, “Hey, you’re kinda dumbass and I don’t like you... and Castiel is mine, so fuck off.”

So instead he just told her that she might have a chance. It saved him from having to deal with a full-grown temper tantrum (which she’s had before because her printer paper wouldn’t fit in the copier. Dean had fixed it by simply rotating the paper.) in the middle of work, which he would much rather not have.

It was an hour before Dean left work. He normally got there at eight o’clock in the morning, because Castiel needed his coffee before nine. Granted, Castiel had never asked Dean deliberately to make his coffee, but Dean’s attempt to swoon him with bribery kindness were his day-to-day tasks. So at the moment,

The elevator dinged and Dean turned around in his desk, just having finished beating Kevin Tran in Crazy 8. Every day they’d play something different. Monday was Crazy 8, and sometimes they’d manage to round a few other people too. Today, they had managed to grab Bobby Singer, Anna Milton, and Meg Masters to play a few rounds. Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s, Thursday’s and Friday’s, it would just be Kevin and Dean playing.

Dean turned around to see his boss, and he just so managed to exit out of the tab and onto some random website that totally looked like work.

Fuck, was he hot.

His black overcoat was off and his white dress shirt was rolled up, the cuffs on his sleeves were unbuttoned, and he looked like a little bit of a mess. However, it was extremely attractive and Dean found himself biting his lip to stop himself from drooling over him.

The whole office sort of stifled quiet as Castiel’s cold eyes peered around the room. Dean, however, was the closest to him and he could just smell the cinnamon and black coffee radiating off of him.

“Dean.” Castiel said softly, looking down at Dean who had just grabbed a pen to twirl around his fingers.

“Yes sir?” Dean snapped up, straightening his posture and tugging at his sleeves.

“I need you in my office.”

Whispers quirked across the office floor, probably rumors about their relationship. It has never happened and Dean had told himself over and over again that it wouldn’t happen.

However, the thing that happened next was terrifying.

Once they had reached his office, which was a story up from his desk, Castiel had taken the lead and Dean found himself shaking with eagerness (and nervousness) of what’s next to come. Castiel had held the door open for him and once Dean reached inside, Castiel shut the door and locked it.

It was normal for Dean, but in this circumstance, he overthought everything. So the door locking was terrifying to him.

Castiel laid his hands flat on his desk and eyed Dean with precaution.

It made Dean tremble in his bones.

“You have heard the rumors, have you not?” he asked, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. It was such an innocent gesture that was so un-Castiel that Dean found himself nearly falling on his knees to worship him.

“Yeah-“ he stopped himself. “Yes sir.”

Castiel’s hands left the desk and he began slowly walking toward Dean, eyeing him as if he was prey and Castiel was the predator. Dean was then trembling in his shoes, feeling as if he could throw up from how nervous they were.

Now, Castiel’s next question was yet another question that Dean was not expecting.

“Are you romantically attracted to me?”

Not wanting to lie, Dean succumbed to Castiel’s look of prestigious nature. “Yes... yes sir- I...”

Castiel shushed him. “I’ll be after work. Make sure everybody is gone and turn off all the lights before you come back here. 5:30, Dean.”

Fuck.

-

Dean eyed the clock with such suspicion that he wanted to smash it in the floor and turn the minute handle to 5:30 already. At five o’clock, people should be starting to pack up and leave.

And as five o’clock pulled around, they did just that. Dean said his goodbyes, trying not to look suspicious. Because normally when the clock struck five, Dean was up and out faster than you could say cherry pie. He liked his job (the sexy boss sure helped) but relaxing was better to him in his opinion.

At about 5:15, people were still taking their sweet precious time.

5:20. Dean still had to go all the way to the basement to turn off the lights.

5:25. Anna Milton.

“Hey Dean, good job on Crazy 8 earlier! You’re pretty good.”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes and slap her in the face. He knew exactly what she was doing, like she did everyday. Flirting.

“Listen, Anna— Mr. Novak-“

“Castiel is a cheapskate, he can wait.”

Dean’s nostrils practically flared from the informality and disrespect she had for him. Since Dean was in love had a huge crush on his boss, any disrespect towards him made him blood boil.

“Anna...”

“If the rumors are true...”

“They’re not.”

“Alright, whatever.” she flung her hands up in defeat, sighing like it was her last breath. “If you wanna play another game sometime, my house is always open to move some furniture around.”

Dean shivered. Anna was cute and all, but she was toxic and manipulative as fuck. He only had eyes for one man and one man only.

Shit! It was 5:29.

Once the door and shut and he knew Anna was out of the office like Castiel had said, Dean ran to the basement, his messenger bag almost falling down the stairs many, many times.

He really needed to work out instead of using Sammy’s stupid techniques of having good posture and drinking water (also while watching TV, a detail Dean “forgot” to tell Sam) to burn calories.

He finally reached his office, after having to run four flights of stairs, he finally made it. At 5:35. Fuck.

Knocking on the door made Dean realize how hard he was shaky. In all honesty, this was probably the scariest thing he’s ever had to do.

What if he gets fired? What if he breaks his heart? Fuck. Anything could happen.

“Come in.”

And so Dean did, and the sight he saw was a sight for sore eyes. His tie was untied and hanging around his neck, his belt was off, and his dress shirt was untucked.

The sex they had was indeed not heartless. It was soft, and full of something Dean never though Castiel was capable of giving him: love. He treasured him as if he was the richest gold or rarest diamond, kissing his every freckle and blemish like he was made of glass.

(tags below)

@potato-painter