#I just can’t help but picture teen!deancas

[deanstop13billyjoeltraxx]

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU :)

Chapter 12 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here. 

yes i updated twice this week my foot is broken i can’t do anything else

The Beginning (of the End)

Three Years Earlier

“You ready?”

Dean was standing by the door with a full backpack. Cas’s own was leaning against his closet. He was sitting at his computer, manically finishing a paragraph, only half-stalling.

“One second…” Cas trailed off as he ensured his document had saved properly. “Done. Yes,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face.

Dean had just taken his last final that morning. It was nearly noon before they hit the road in the Impala, Dean’s twenty-minute tape-selection process doing nothing to hasten their departure. Eventually, he settled on Moving Pictures, and he pulled out of the parking lot with “Tom Sawyer” blaring through the speakers.

Cas learned many things on the two-and-a-half hour drive to Lawrence — that Dean knew every word to every song in his tape collection, and he was not afraid to demonstrate it; that Dean had driven through almost every town on I-35; and that he had a story for each. He learned that Dean could begrudgingly appreciate 80s pop when Cas flipped on the radio and allowed the entirety of “Heat of the Moment” to play, uninterrupted. He learned that Dean would often turn to sing his favorite lyric right at Cas, or to tell him music trivia, or just to give him a smile.

When they arrived at Bobby’s house in Lawrence, a gangly teen who Cas assumed to be Sam was waiting for them at the door. Dean had barely made it out of the car before Sam was running to him, pulling him into a hug. Dean was grumbling “I wasn’t gone that long,” but he was smiling and sniffling and hugging Sam just as hard. Cas hid his smile.

Sam introduced himself to Cas, all smiles and raw excitement. His openness was contagious. Sam insisted on hauling Cas’s backpack inside for him, to which Dean threw an apologetic look at Cas. Cas just grinned back at him.

Bobby Singer was gruff-voiced and stoic, but there were tears in his eyes as he gave Dean a quick hug. He shook Cas’s hand firmly and said it was real good to meet him, after everything he’s heard. Dean went beet-red when Cas cast him a glance.

Bobby brought beers and a coke for Sam. The four of them sat in Bobby’s living room, Dean and Cas replaying the semester’s highlights for a rapt audience. When Bobby left the room to order a pizza, he clapped Dean on the shoulder and said, in a low voice, “Real proud of you, kid.” Cas thought it might have been the happiest he’d ever seen Dean.

“Dean told me you’re a writer,” Sam said when it was just the three of them. “He said you were writing a book.”

Dean made an indignant sound. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Sam retorted. “You said he —”

“I said he was majoring in creative writing,” Dean interrupted, giving Sam a look.

“I am… working on something,” Cas said to Sam. “Although, I’m not quite sure it’s a book. I’ve never tried my hand at writing novels.”

“Dean says your stories are really good,” Sam said, and Dean shot him a death glare. Cas could barely contain his laughter. “What do you usually write?”

“Before this semester, I typically wrote about my own life,” Cas said, feeling slightly self-conscious. “But one of my classes challenged me to write about other things.”

“What’s your book about?” Sam asked.

“Can you contain your nerd for, like, ten minutes?” Dean grumbled. “Dude just got here, you don’t need to scare him off.”

Sam flipped him off, and Dean muttered, “Real mature.”

Cas was considering Sam’s question, trying to come up with an answer that was both vague and satisfying. “It’s about free will,” he said finally.

“Can I read it? When you’re done, I mean,” Sam said. “I love reading. I just finished Lord of the Rings last month.”

Cas smiled. “If I ever finish it, of course,” he said. “Lord of the Rings is a fantastic book series,” he added, and Sam’s face lit up.

Dean let out a long-suffering sigh when Sam started Cas on a conversation about Tolkien, and he excused himself to get another beer. When he returned, Bobby close behind him, he threw a pillow at Sam’s head, which led to Sam throwing it back, knocking Dean’s beer to the floor, and then it was war. Bobby shot Cas an eye-roll, which only made him laugh harder.

The rest of the week passed much the same. Castiel went to bed each night with sore cheeks from smiling. On Saturday, Sam roped him into pouring toothpaste into Dean’s shampoo bottle. The roar they heard from the shower that night had them nearly on the floor laughing. Dean got his revenge on Sam moments later, barreling out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel to give his brother a large, wet hug. Unbeknownst to Dean, his retaliation involved Cas as well; it took great effort to keep his eyes focused on anything but Dean’s bare midsection. 

Dean dragged him to all of his favorite spots in Lawrence, places he remembered from early childhood and past Christmases with Bobby. Watching Dean in his element, Cas gave up. Resistance was futile. Cas didn’t fall in love with Dean in Lawrence, but he stopped trying to open a parachute against it. And while that observably changed nothing, for Cas, it changed everything. He’d already lost the game — what was the point in denying himself the consolation prize?

He leaned into the ache that came with the brilliance of Dean’s smiles. He relished the knot in his stomach when Dean spoke to everyone, but looked at Cas like it was just for him. He stole glances. He hid smiles. Dean permeated his thoughts and invaded his dreams. It hurt like hell, sleeping alone on an air mattress, wanting nothing more than to be laying next to the man in the other room. But the highs were addicting, made greater by the pain that followed them. Though he’d been down this road before, hopelessly in love with someone who would never, could never love him back, Dean felt different. Dean felt all-consuming. 

Castiel had fallen, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever rise again. 

 Christmas with the Winchesters made every holiday celebration Cas had attended look boring. Ellen Harvelle and her daughter, Jo, arrived in the morning, each giving him a hug like they’d known him for years. The moment she walked in, Ellen was yelling at Dean to “get his ass in the kitchen.” He grabbed Cas by the arm and pulled him along.

Cas spent the rest of the day watching Dean and Ellen cook, helping when he could, then having a raucous meal on the floor of the living room, A Christmas Story playing on the old TV. Bobby popped open two bottles of cheap champagne, much to the chagrin of Jo and Sam, who were provided sparkling grape juice instead. They exchanged gifts, and Dean looked at Cas like he’d just won the lottery after opening Cas’s gift to him, a limited edition copy of Houses of the Holy. When Bobby and Ellen moved to the kitchen to clean up, Dean led Cas outside to the Impala.

“It was too big to hide in there, and I’m shit at wrapping, so I just left it in the car,” Dean said, a little sheepish. He opened the trunk, and Cas gasped.

Inside sat a vintage black typewriter, an Underwood Champion. The paint was chipped everywhere, the letters on the keys nearly worn-off.

“It’s not in great shape,” Dean said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “But it was the coolest one they had at the antique shop. It’s kind of useless, since you have a laptop and all, but —”

Cas interrupted him by pulling him into a tight hug. Dean made a surprised sound, but wrapped his arms around Cas’s back.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said into his shoulder. He pulled away. “It’s perfect.”

Dean shrugged, but looked pleased all the same.

“I have something else for you, too,” Cas said before he could change his mind. Dean crossed his arms.

“Dude, you already went way too hard with the vinyl,” Dean said.

Cas rolled his eyes and started his way back to the house. Dean shut the trunk and followed.

Cas grabbed his backpack and pulled out the stack of paper, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He all but shoved it into Dean’s chest, who gave him a confused look as he took hold of the gift.

“It’s the first part of my first draft,” Cas explained as Dean read the cover page. Dean’s eyes were wide when he looked back at Cas. “It’s a selfish gift, really,” Cas said. “I want to know what you think.”

Dean broke into a slow grin. “This is awesome, Cas,” he said. “I can’t wait to read it. Thank you.”

 They were supposed to leave Lawrence on New Year’s Day, but Dean and Cas were both too hungover to even think about making the trip. They stayed an extra night, much to the delight of Sam. The three of them spent New Year’s marathoning the Harry Potter movies. As usual, Dean spent most of the time reciting lines and pointing out his favorite scenes to Cas. Eventually, Sam became irritated enough that he told Dean to shove it, to which Dean responded that Cas liked hearing his thoughts, thank you very much. Dean kicked him in the ribs when Sam rolled his eyes and mumbled something like “Sorry for messing up your game.” Cas pretended not to hear that, pretended not to see Dean give Sam a glare that said, bring that up again, and I’ll kill you. All the same, he couldn’t help but wonder… 

But, no. Dean wasn’t flirting with him, Cas knew that much. Sam just said the first thing he could think of to get a rise out of Dean. 

They didn’t end up leaving until after dinner the next day, Sam and even Bobby pulling both of them in for hugs. Dean turned on the radio for the first half of the drive, but kept the volume low. He was quiet, and although Cas wanted to ask, he allowed Dean to sit in whatever he was feeling, watching the flat landscape pass outside the passenger window.

Dean had forgotten to tank up in Lawrence, so they stopped for gas in Emporia. It was dark by then, the unnatural white fluorescents shining starkly against the night sky. Cas stayed in the passenger seat as Dean pumped the gas. Cas watched him intently from the safety of the cab, another stolen moment wherein he allowed the full depth of his feelings to overcome him. It hurt, as it always did, but he thought the pain of wanting what he could never have was becoming softer, more bearable, like he might be able to live with it.

Dean opened the car door, and a rush of cold air assaulted the cab. “It’s nice out tonight,” Dean said. Cas hummed in agreement, contemplating Dean’s languid movements as he pulled his hoodie over his head. It was torturous, the way his shirt rode up to reveal a torso chiseled like marble, dusted with freckles. It was impossible not to stare. He looked away just before Dean looked at him again. 

“I’m gonna go grab a snack,” he said. “You want anything?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Cas said.

Dean returned momentarily with an already-half empty package of powdered donuts, grinning widely. Cas rolled his eyes as Dean reentered the cab. 

“Prudent,” he deadpanned. 

“These things are fucking magic,” Dean said before making a completely inappropriate noise as he popped another into his mouth. Cas averted his eyes. 

“Do you eat the most unhealthy foods in existence on purpose?” Cas asked. 

Dean looked at him with mock affront. “I just eat what tastes good,” he said. 

The Impala roared to life. Dean opened the window to toss the empty package into a nearby trash can, dusting his fingers off in the air. He turned back to Cas, the right side of his mouth covered in powdered sugar. 

“Ready to go?” 

Cas frowned. “You look like a small child in a donut shop,” he said. 

“What?” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, then raised his eyebrows at Cas. “Better?” 

“Barely,” Cas said, his frown deepening. And then his hand was moving without his permission, reaching up to dust the remaining white from the side of Dean’s mouth. It might have been nothing, were it not for the fact that his thumb lingered just a moment too long. Cas was staring at Dean’s lips, the breath stolen from his lungs. Shit. 

“Cas?” Dean said, an eyebrow cocked.

Cas pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. “What?” He croaked. His throat felt like sandpaper. 

Dean was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and melancholy, and Cas was done for. After all this time, every trip to the dining hall, every movie watched on a shared beanbag, every midnight trip to Taco Bell, it was here that Cas put the final nail in the coffin. It was at a shitty gas station in the middle-of-nowhere, Kansas, that Dean discovered his secret. 

“Nothing,” Dean said slowly. As they pulled out of the gas station parking lot, Dean didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. Cas only dared a single glance in Dean’s direction, but when he did, he found Dean’s eyebrows knit in concentration, his jaw set, like this drive was the most important thing he’d ever done.

The air felt like it was about to condense with the weight of the silence. That final hour of the drive had Cas fidgeting, turning his phone over and over in his hands. Dean was perfectly still, hardly moving his eyes from the road. Dean, the definition of nervous energy, wholly devoted to a single task. Cas could have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been silently begging for immediate reorganization into an inanimate object. 

Because nothing in the history of unrequited love confessions could beat this. Cas didn’t have a prayer. And maybe Dean would pretend he hadn’t seen it, maybe they’d never talk about it. But everything would be different. Dean would find excuses to miss dinner, Cas would pretend to be exhausted every Tuesday night. Dean would break the news that he’d found a different roommate for the following school year. Cas would remark that they should keep in touch at the year’s end, and Dean would agree with a clap on the back, and they would never speak to each other again. 

Finally, mercifully, Dean pulled into the dorm parking lot. Cas exhaled hard, as if he’d been holding his breath. Dean gave him a quizzical glance, which Castiel promptly ignored. When Dean shifted into park, Cas had his hand on the door handle immediately. He was about to open it, to take a breath of frigid, fresh air, when Dean grabbed his other wrist. 

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper, gravelly and sincere in a way that sent a shock through Cas’s spine.

Cas turned to face him. “What?” Cas said, trying to ignore the flames creeping up his arm.

“Thanks for, uh,” Dean started, but he cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming. To Lawrence.”

“Of course,” Cas said, and his voice sounded dead, even to him. He tried to infuse it with some vitality as he finished. “Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time.”

Dean nodded. His hand was still wrapped around Cas’s wrist, and he was looking out of the windshield.

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we… Go inside?” It came out like a question.

Dean’s eyes flicked to his. “Yeah,” he said, but he still wasn’t letting go. And Cas thought he should look away, should open the door, but then the inaction lasted too long. Something about the way Dean was looking at him burned, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, like there was something he was trying to convince himself to say. 

Cas wasn’t sure if he really whispered Dean’s name, or if he imagined it. All he knew was, one moment Dean was staring at Cas, lips parted. The next, there was a hand on the back of Cas’s neck and stubble against his cheek and a pair of lips rough against his. Dean was kissing him, and Cas had imagined it so many times he could do nothing but freeze and hope he never woke up from this dream.

Dean pulled away abruptly, too soon, and the give-or-take two feet between them might have ripped a hole in the space-time continuum, it was so cosmically wrong. 

“Shit, that was — I’m so sorry, Cas I didn’t —” Dean was holding his head in his hands, but his words were taking eons to reach Cas’s ears. He just sat, staring in disbelief. Every place Dean had touched was scorched with the absence of him. “I’ll email someone — I’ll try to move out for this semester — fuck, I’m such an idiot,” Dean was saying, and those words shocked Cas back to his plane of existence. 

“Move out?” He croaked, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Why?” 

Dean looked at him in anguish. “I shouldn’t have — I’m an idiot.” His voice sounded broken and raspy. “I fucked up on Thanksgiving, and now, shit, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You remember Thanksgiving?” Cas blurted.

Dean tilted his head. “How could I forget that?”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What exactly was your mistake on Thanksgiving?”

Dean stared at him. “The whole damn thing, Cas,” he sputtered. “And now this, and, goddammit, you’re my best friend and I can’t control myself long enough to…” Dean trailed off, and Cas finally understood. Dean had misinterpreted his shock, felt Cas’s stiff and tardy reply and taken it to mean he wasn’t interested. A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped him at the irony.

Dean’s expression darkened. “Yeah, this is fucking hilarious, Cas —”

Cas cut him off. He closed the distance between them, and he could have laughed at the woeful inadequacy of his fantasies when compared to this. It was stilted and desperate, and the center console was digging into Cas’s knee, and an uncomfortable cold was seeping into the cab. But Dean’s fingers were tangled in his hair and he tasted like Diet Coke and cigarettes and he was muttering Cas with every breath and Cas thought he might die in that parking lot because he simply would not allow this to end.

The world had shifted when they finally parted. Dean was looking at him with wonder and confusion. Cas knew he was putting on a similar display. It was dark. Dean’s face was only half-illuminated in the parking lot, but everything about him was brilliant. It was almost too much, like maybe if Cas looked away he’d find himself blind. Cas felt the near-overwhelming urge to kiss him again, to rediscover every plane of Dean’s face he’d already committed to memory.

But he remained in his place, half twisted in the passenger’s seat, because this demanded all manner of explanation. Cas swallowed hard.

“You…” Dean’s voice was a gravelly whisper. “What?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Cas replied, breathless.

“You’re not — You’re not pissed?”

“That depends,” Cas said, his heart hammering against his chest. “What was that?” 

“I —” Dean started, but stopped himself. His leg was bouncing rapidly, and he reached into the pocket of his jeans, presumably for a cigarette. Cas grabbed him by the shoulder. 

“Dean,” he said in a stern voice. 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Dammit, Cas,” he said. “What do you want me to say?” 

“The truth,” Cas said, a little taken aback. 

“The truth,” Dean repeated, his eyes remaining resolutely shut. Another deep breath. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” he said finally.

And, whatever Cas had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “What?” 

“I was gonna — I dunno, I was gonna do it right. I’ve been meaning to do it right, ask you to fucking dinner or something, but then I thought you hated me after Thanksgiving, and you were busy all the time, and then we were in Lawrence, and —”

“We go to dinner every night,” Cas said. Dean wasn’t making sense. 

Dean finally opened his eyes, only to give Cas a death-stare. “No, dumbass, something a little nicer than the friggin’ dining hall.” He sighed. “But, of course, in my car. What am I, sixteen?” 

“A date,” Cas said, finally catching up. “You were going to ask me on a date.” 

Dean winced a little. “Yeah.” 

“But you didn’t —”

“Thanks for the reminder.” 

“— Because you thought I hated you.” 

“A little bit.” 

Cas smiled incredulously. “If this is a joke, it’s a terrible one.” 

Dean glared at him. “Not a joke, Cas.” 

“But you’re not — Dean, I thought you were straight.” 

Cas felt bad about the statement immediately as Dean winced, but it was true. Nothing was adding up. Dean had never shown an interest in men before, at least not around Cas, and Cas didn’t think he could stand to be Dean’s experimental phase. But he reeled his insecurity back in as he added, “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just… Confused.”

Dean let out a hard breath. “No, I know, I know,” Dean said. “I dunno. Guess I never really thought about it before.” He paused. “I was too scared to think about it.” 

Cas felt his heart break at that. There was a story there, a million things to unpack, but it was obviously a feat for Dean to say as much as he already had. Cas left it alone. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Point is,” he said, “this was a long time coming, but I’m an idiot and couldn’t work up the balls.” He was staring hard at his hands, the admission taking enormous effort. 

A little nervous without the excuse of the heat of the moment, Cas put a hand on Dean’s neck and kissed him, again, short and tender. “You’re not an idiot,” Cas said. 

“Guess not,” Dean said through a breathless laugh. 

Cas cocked his head. “You really thought I hated you?” He asked, his eyes searching Dean’s.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Dean asked. “I thought that was it, you were done with me.” Dean furrowed his brow. “Why’d you do that?”

“Avoid you?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you didn’t — if you weren’t mad.” 

Cas stared at him. “Dean, I can barely remember anything we did on Thanksgiving, much less anything I might have said.” He paused. “And then we were… I didn’t know what to think. Not to mention, up until about five minutes ago, I thought you were — that you weren’t interested.” Cas ran a hand through his hair. “I was worried I might ruin our friendship.”

Something like realization dawned on Dean’s face. He let out another laugh. “Guess we’re a couple of dumbasses.” 

“Maybe,” Cas said with a small smile. “Let’s go inside.”

Dean nodded, and they exited the car and made their way upstairs. And it might have been any other night, save their shoulders touching, fingers brushing, silence charged with something new. Cas unlocked their door, letting Dean in. When he turned after shutting the door behind him, Dean was there, and Cas didn’t even have time to turn on the light before he was shoved hard against the door. Dean’s mouth was hot and his hands were desperate. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cas thought they should probably talk about this, about them, but then Dean’s breathing hitched as Cas caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and the thoughts stopped coming.

 Cas’s bare back was cold against the linoleum floor, but Dean was warm against his chest. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, his mind scrambled from pleasure and the shock of being wanted.

“Cas,” Dean said against his chest. Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Yes?”

Dean shifted, perching on his arm, looking down at Cas. “You — you want this?” He said.

Cas stretched his arms up and rested his head on top of his hands. “This?” He asked. Dean was being intentionally vague, but Cas couldn’t exist in limbo. He had to hear the words, as clear as Dean could make them.

Dean gave him a look for a moment, but relented. “Yeah, I know. Okay. This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “You and me. Us. Like this.”

“Oh,” Cas said lightly. “That’s what you meant?” Dean rolled his eyes and shoved him. Cas laughed. “The answer is yes.”

A small smile, but it faltered as Dean spoke again. “Are you sure?” He said. “I don’t — I might be really shit at this, you know.”

And Cas did know. There were a million little complications, things they would have to figure out, problems he hadn’t even begun to consider. That might have been terrifying, but the prospect of never having Dean, that was worse.

“I’m sure,” he said quietly. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, no hesitation.

Cas sighed as Dean traced circles on his chest. “It’s worth it to try.”

Cas was in between sleep and consciousness when something warm shifted around his back. Whatever dream he’d been having, it felt remarkably real. 

“Wake up, dumbass,” he heard Dean say affectionately. Cas didn’t want this dream to end; he could steal a few more minutes of sleep. He burrowed his head deeper into the pillow, willing the dream to continue. 

But then there was a pair of lips against his ear, and they were entirely real. “C’mon,” Dean said in a low voice. “First day of class.” 

For a moment, Cas was confused. Dean was in his bed. Why was Dean in his bed? But as he rubbed his eyes, the events of the night before came crashing into him. 

Oh. 

Nerves pooled in the pit of his stomach. He half expected Dean to rush out some kind of apology, to tell him that everything had been a big mistake. But when Cas turned to face him, Dean was beaming. 

“Mornin’,” he said. 

“Good morning,” Cas said, awestruck. Dean needed a shave, and his hair was flat on one side from sleep, but Cas still felt his breathing hitch as he stared at Dean, unfettered for the first time. Beautiful. 

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Cas said with a nod. Dean moved to climb out of the bed, but he paused. He turned back toward Cas and kissed him, slow and deep. When he finally broke away, Dean was smiling even wider. 

“Awesome,” he said, earning a snort from Cas. 

If Cas had worried about Dean’s intentions, it was unfounded. At lunch, as Dean talked to Cas like he was the only person at the table, Meg rolled her eyes and told them to “get a room.” Dean responded by throwing an arm around Cas and saying, “Maybe later.” Meg gaped at the two of them for about ten seconds before regaining composure, shifting to more general conversation. Cas received a text from her immediately after they parted ways. 

MM (1:12 p.m.)

holy shit!!!! 

MM (1:13 p.m.)

ur going to tell me everything tmrw

At first, Cas wasn’t sure how to respond, because he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to say. That is, until Dean answered a call from Benny, saying, “Sorry, man, I’m not going tonight, I have a date. Yeah, with Cas. Shut up.” Cas smiled to himself as he replied to Meg. 

CN (2:32 p.m.)

Absolutely.

The three weeks that followed were easily the best of Cas’s life. The rituals remained unchanged; Tuesday was movie night, dinner was at seven-p.m. in the dining hall, late nights doing homework demanded a fast food run. But little things shifted; Dean made it to his birthday without going to a single party, and his bed remained perpetually made. Cas amassed a greater collection of t-shirts that weren’t his, and he only ran when he knew Dean was in class. 

Cas woke up to Dean shifting around him as he attempted to get out of bed for an early class. Cas slung an arm tightly around his midsection in protest. 

“Too early,” he mumbled. 

He heard Dean chuckle. “I thought class was important,” he said, but he shifted closer to Cas nonetheless. 

Cas grumbled something incomprehensible as he pulled out his phone. When he saw the date, however, he shot up, suddenly wide awake. 

At Dean’s look of confusion, he said, “It’s your birthday.” 

“Yeah.”

Cas leaned down and kissed Dean deeply. He pulled away to mutter, “Happy birthday, Dean,” against his lips. Dean closed the small distance as soon as Cas had said the words, and this time it was decidedly heavier, hot breaths mixing and hands pulling each other closer. 

They were interrupted by Dean’s second alarm. Dean scowled as he turned it off. He looked at Cas expectantly, but Cas had his arms folded against his chest. 

“Class is important,” he reminded Dean. 

“But it’s my birthday.”

“And?” 

“Asshole,” Dean grumbled, but he kissed Cas on the jaw as he climbed down from the bed. He put on a pot of coffee as Cas followed him off the bed, wrapping his arms around Dean from the back.

“I got you something,” Cas said into Dean’s shoulder. Dean twisted around to face him. 

“Cas, you didn’t have to do that. I told you, birthday’s are dumb anyway.” 

Cas made a face. “I happen to be endlessly thankful for your birth.” 

Dean shook his head, but he was smiling. “What is it?” 

“You’ll find out on Friday when we go to Benny’s.” 

“We’re going to Benny’s?”

Cas bit the inside of his cheek. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said, “Benny and Charlie both insisted. But you once told me you have a strong aversion to surprise parties.” 

“Y’all are throwing me a surprise party?” 

“No,” Cas rushed. “No, that’s why I’m telling you right now.” 

“But it’s a party.” 

“Yes.” 

“You couldn’t have told me yesterday? How long have y’all been planning this?” 

“Only a week.” 

“A week?” Dean paused, his eyes narrowed. “Who all’s gonna be there?” Dean grumbled, already trying to assess the threat of too much attention on him at once. 

“Just Benny, Charlie, and Charlie’s girlfriend,” Cas placated. 

Dean relaxed at that. “And you, right?” 

“I’ll come if you want me there,” Cas said, a little sheepish. He hadn’t really planned on going, wanting to give Dean some time alone to spend with his friends. Cas felt like he’d accidentally achieved a monopoly on Dean’s attention. 

Dean gaped at him. “Dude, of course I want you there.” 

Cas gave him a soft smile. “Then I’ll be there.” 

Dean almost convinced Cas to let him skip class — almost — but with great effort, he resolutely pushed Dean out the door. 

“Damn, all right, if you want to get rid of me that bad,” Dean griped, smirking. “See you later.” 

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas said with a smile. 

 They didn’t make it to the party. 

Friday afternoon, after spending far too long in bed, Cas was sitting on the beanbag, Dean’s head resting on his lap. They’d taped Dean’s comforter over the window, leaving the room completely dark, save for the film playing on Dean’s television. 

“Fucking asshole,” Dean was saying as Neil’s father came on screen. Cas hummed in agreement, paying more attention to his fingers threading their way through Dean’s hair. Suddenly, Dean’s phone began to ring. He shifted to check the caller ID, then stood up quickly. 

“Wait, pause it, I gotta take this,” he said. Cas obliged. “Hey, Bobby! How’s it goin’?” 

Cas reached above his head to stretch, but he faltered when he heard Dean say, “Dad? What’s wrong?” 

Cas stood abruptly as Dean’s phone slipped out of his hand, shattering upon impact with the linoleum. He was standing, his jaw clenched, staring at absolutely nothing. 

“Dean?” 

Dean remained silent, no indication that he had heard Cas. Cas placed a hand on his left shoulder, prompting Dean into movement. 

Still saying nothing, Dean dumped the contents of his backpack onto the floor, filling it with things from his wardrobe. Cas followed him, frantic. 

“What are you doing? Dean, talk to me,” he said. But Dean was on a mission, it seemed. After stuffing his feet into unlaced boots, he threw the door open and stalked out. 

At a complete loss, Cas pulled on his own shoes and followed, making sure to grab his key as he shut the door to their room behind him. Dean was already halfway to the stairs, and Castiel ran to catch up with him. Dean let the door to the stairs shut in Cas’s face. 

“Dean!” Cas called. Dean was fleeing down the stairs like his life depended on it. Cas only barely caught up to him as they reached the ground floor and exited to the parking lot. 

Finally within reach, Cas grabbed Dean’s shoulder, hard. Dean slowed, but didn’t stop. 

“Dean,” Cas started. Still no response. “Dean! What happened?” 

They had reached the Impala. Dean unlocked the car and threw his bag haphazardly in the front seat. He stared resolutely at the ground. 

“I gotta go, Cas. I’ll explain everything later.” The first words Dean had spoken to Cas in nearly ten minutes. His voice was thick. 

“Dean, where are you going?” Cas asked, desperate. “The party — there’s class on Monday!”

Dean looked up at him then, and Cas was struck by the mixture of fury and sadness in his eyes. “Screw the party and screw class. Family emergency.” 

Cas watched helplessly as Dean sped out of the parking lot, taking the turn so fast the back end of the Impala swayed a little. He stood in the middle of the parking lot for what felt like an eternity, the cold January air seeping into his bones. Eventually, he made his way back to the dorms, sighing in relief as the warm air of the hallway hit him. 

When Cas reentered the room, he stared at Dean’s shattered cell phone. He didn’t even bother to clean up the mess, just let out a choked sigh. Cas fell into the beanbag, his head in his hands.

——

tag list! let me know if you want to be added/removed :)

@nguyenxtrang @castielsbeeslippers @fortiusnitius

[mattzerella-sticks]

Festival Wear Me Down (DeanCas Coda to 13x18, AO3 link)

           “He’s where?”

           Cas sighs, turning the laptop around to better show Dean the screen. “In Southern California,” he says, “Or he will be, soon enough. Coachella doesn’t start for another week.”

           Dean looks from the website to his angel, blinking in response. He didn’t understand the words that had left Cas’s mouth. There were no clues as to what a ‘Coachella’ was, only pictures of young adults with too much money and time on their hands.

           “And you’re sure?” Dean asks, “How’d you find this out? Spell? Grace?”

           “No, actually,” Cas starts, tilting his head, “He, uh… he forgot to erase the browser history.”

           “You’re kidding,” Dean says. When his angel doesn’t speak up again, Dean accepts the fact. ‘For someone who doesn’t want to be found,’ Dean thinks, ‘he sure made it easy.’

           “Okay,” Dean says, “So… I take it we’re goin’ to this Coachella thing, right?”

           “It’s why I told you,” Cas says, brow raised, “Common courtesy for when you decide on a plan. I mean – imagine if I had just taken Sam and left you a note?”

           Dean blanches, flinching from Cas’s cool gaze. “Look, I’m sorry alright,” he says, shuffling, “How many times do I have to tell ya?”

           Cas shrugs. “Whenever I actually feel like accepting it.” Dean rolls his eyes, shifting his focus from his angel and back towards the laptop. He leans over and starts scrolling through the page.

           “So, what is this… Coachella?”

           “It appears to be some type of music festival,” Cas joins him, leaning over Dean’s shoulder. His hand rests a little farther up than usual, causing Dean’s skin to darken a shade deeper than regular. “I tried doing research… but the language on the sites I combed through made no sense – even to me. So I was going to call Claire in a bit, see if she could shed some further light on this. She seems to be the correct age as most of the attendees.”

           “This doesn’t look like music, Cas,” Dean grumbles, eyeing the list of acts he stumbled upon, “It just looks like the overproduced garbage that’s popular today… and Beyoncé.” He gapes when he reaches the ticket price. “Holy shit,” he curses, “What the hell?”

           “Yes, my apologies,” Cas says, “One of your credit cards is… no longer usable.” Dean glares at him. His angel doesn’t back down, and they match stares. It goes on longer than a beat, and Dean soon forgets why he locked eyes with Cas to begin with. The ire is replaced with a more familiar, heat. It spreads through Dean’s body.

           ‘I should look away,’ he thinks, ‘But we’ve been doing this for awhile? Maybe say something. Or would that be worse…’

           Sam saves him, the other Winchester walking in and carrying a stack of books. He drops the heavy tomes onto the table, startling the other men out of their spell. Sam squints at their near-identical looks of confusion.

           “What?”

           “No – nothing,” Dean says. He flushes, clears his throat and tears himself away from Cas (‘How close were we even standing?’). “I’m gonna go get ready,” he says, turning tail, “Cas – call Claire. Find out all you can.” Dean doesn’t stick around for a response, rounding the corner and sagging against the corridor. He knocks his head back against the wall, and closes his eyes. The cool stone does its best to cool the heat around his neck, but Dean still feels the hot blue fire of Cas’s eyes on him. As if the angel could see through walls.

           ‘Could he?’

           He distracts himself from those thoughts by listening in on the conversation in the other room.

           “Why do you have to call Claire?”

           “To see if she knows anything about Coachella –“

           “Coachella, why are we going there?”

           “I believe Gabriel will be attending the festivities.”

           “Ah, so we’ll be hunting.”

           “Do you know anything about this event, Sam?”

           “Not a lot,” a beat, “Just enough to know Dean’ll hate it.”

           “You know, I already got that impression.”

           Dean doesn’t wait around after that. Instead he strides back to his room, preferring to drown out the feeling of Sam and Cas talking about him with good music. At least get in some tunes before his ears bleed and he’ll never be able to listen to his songs again. Hopefully they find Gabriel within the first five minutes so he won’t have to suffer. Because between the archangel’s attitude, stuck-up kids with too much time and money on their hands, and the noise… Dean’s not sure he’ll make it out alive.

           “It’s a stupid concert, Dean,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face, “You’ve faced down worst… maybe it’ll be good… maybe you won’t hate it?”

           “I hate it.”

           Dean pulls at the red-and-black poncho, the rough material sticking to his sweaty skin (‘Claire said I had to be shirtless under this thing?’). While focused on his outfit, he doesn’t see Sam sneak up behind and force something on his head. Dean yelps, turning around to stare at a smirking Sam.

           The younger Winchester seems to be in his natural habitat (‘Figures… the hippie.’). His long hair was pulled tight into a bun, a little too close to looking like a unicorn. He was wearing a short, brightly colored tank top and some seriously distressed cut-offs. Claire had sent back hearts when they texted her pictures of Sam’s outfit. Very different from the laughing emojis she used to respond to Dean and Cas’s choices.

           ‘Speaking of Cas…’

           His angel was watching him in fond amusement, eyes shaded nicely by the cap smothering his usually wild hair. Like Dean he, too, is bare-chested – only the front of his overall shorts covered some modesty from the roving eyes of the elder Winchester. That, combined with the heat, means Dean will definitely go through more than one bottle of water. Especially if one of Cas’s nipples slips out – again.

           “What did you put on my head?” Dean asks, snatching the soft hat from its place. He looks it over, frowning, considering it. Usually, he would have just dropped the item to the ground and carried on. But the wide-brim bolero reminded Dean of a modern cowboy – what he had been trying to go for when he chose his clothes. Claire, however, nixed the shirt he bought to wear underneath, so now every time he raised his arms his love handles would peek out. And his boots would have been perfect, too, except…

           “Watch where you’re steppin’,” Dean grumbles, pulling his toes out from under Cas’s shoes, “You can’t just stomp blindly next to a guy in flip flops!”

           “My apologies, Dean,” Cas says, “The line was moving forward.”

           Dean turns away, fixing the hat back onto his head and muttering under his breath, “Stupid teens… why drink so much so early?”

           “Anyway,” Sam cuts in, moving between them, “I think we should go over the game plan now.”

           “Are you sure?” Cas whispers to him, blue eyes darting around the crowd, “In front of all these people?”

           Sam looks around at the same people Cas is cautious about, smirking. “Trust me,” he tells him, “No one will be listening to us. Plus, we’re almost at the entrance. Once we’re in we need to be focused.” He pulls a few things from a small backpack and hands them out to Dean and Cas.

           “So look,” he says, “I was able to make these crystal sensors using some of Gabe’s grace residue as well as a spell from the archives. It should glow the closer we get to him, so keep these around your necks at all times.” The other men slip the leather cords around their necks, Dean fighting with his hat to get it on. “And these,” he continues, handing them handcuffs, “Cas helped me carve the sigils in. Should make it so he can’t fly away or use his grace.”

           “Really?” Dean asks, eyeing the set of cuffs Sam wears like a bracelet, “I just thought you were trying to set a trend?”

           The younger Winchester shrugs, “I made it easy for myself. You’re more than welcome to do the same.”

           “Thanks but no thanks,” Dean says, “I don’t want to look too kinky in public…”

           “Yet you wear that…”

           Dean tries to kick Sam’s shin in retaliation, but only further bruises his foot on Sam’s bony legs. He bites back a curse and just glares at his brother’s proud smirk. Cas, on the other hand, takes the handcuffs and zips them away in his fanny pack. The bright neon thing was as severe and over-the-top as the rainbow bandana Cas tied around his neck.

           “What?” Cas said when picking his accessories out, “I like the colors.”

           “Next!”

           Dean’s thoughts are broken as the attendee calls them forward; he pulls out his phone and flashes the bar code, only blushing slightly as the woman double takes at their appearance. They don’t stand their long, her pushing the trio along and towards her colleagues, who search their bags. Dean got to skip that part, but still had to get scanned. After a few close calls with a handsy guard, Team Free Will had made it into Coachella.

           And they were not impressed.

           “Christ,” Dean mutters, pulling his brim up to scan the crowd, “This does not look like anything I saw in the pictures.”

           Sam claps him on the shoulder, “Instagram is a hell of a drug.”

           “Where do we even begin?” Cas asks. Sam pulls out his phone, and clicks his way towards an image of the grounds. It’s been carved into three distinct areas, highlighted in red, green, and blue.

           “Okay, I’ll take the left,” Sam starts, pointing at the red area. He trails his finger towards the blue, “Cas, you search for him on the right. And Dean –“

           “Will go straight down the middle,” Dean finishes for him, “Got it, captain my captain.” He takes a step as if to start, only pausing when Sam grabs at his wrist. Dean turns and frowns at his brother’s ‘stern’ face.

           “If you see him, don’t engage,” Sam says, “Text us, and be as subtle as possible.”

           A group passes by them, each decked out in outrageous outfits drenched in gemstones and flowers and patterns. Dean shoots Sam a flat look, “I think I won’t be the one standing out here, Sam.” The younger Winchester rolls his eyes, but releases him, turning towards his own path. He watches him disappear into the crowd until even the little bun at the top of his head is out of sight. Dean shifts his eyes to Cas, aware of his angel’s eyes on him.

           “You gonna be good, Cas?” Dean asks, “Do I need to give you ‘the rules’?”

           Cas tilts his head, squinting, “Rules?”

           “Never take a stranger’s food, don’t take any joints from a guy named Don, oh,” Dean smirks, “And if a man says he’s lost his dog – don’t follow him to his van to look for it.” He laughs, but his angel doesn’t seem amused.

           “I can take care of myself, Dean,” he bristles, “And here’s my advice for you: if you think something looks dangerous – don’t go jumping into it without at least telling Sam and I. I’d also ask you to wait but you seem very incapable of that lately.” Dean’s smile falls, the blow landing just under the belt like Cas anticipated. His angel turns on his heel and stalks into another crowd – leaving Dean all alone.

           Dean pouts, but finally moves on from his spot. He doesn’t do well searching for the runaway archangel, however, his mind still reeling around another.

           ‘I can’t believe he’s still mad about this,’ Dean thinks, ‘Doesn’t he realize that if he had come, it would have been worse. Sam would have been left all alone with Asmodeus – Ketch no doubt would have fled at the first sign of smoke. And if he had came with… that bastard would be trapped with no way for us to get to him. Been trapped with angels who would kill him for being kind and humans who would kill him because of who he is! But the worse part… if he had been trapped there, I never would have forgiven myself…’ Dean stops, the thoughts settling at the bottom of his stomach. He thought he’d rid himself of those thoughts before he went into the rift – made peace with his reasoning. His state of mind proving only how wrong Dean was.

           ‘Why can’t he see that I did it to protect him,’ he thinks, ‘He should know!’ But Cas doesn’t know, because then he would have to tell him his thoughts, his arguments, his… feelings. And Dean has been trying (‘I have!’), but it’s not enough. He can see it in Cas’s eyes that his best still leaves his angel with cloudy eyes and a timid smile. If he was any good at that, Cas would know why he couldn’t wait for him because he would know –

           “Excuse me? Can you take our picture?”

           Dean blinks back into himself, looking down at a young woman with loose, blonde curls. She bats her eyes at him and wiggles her phone. He nods, unsure what his voice might sound like. The girl returns to her friends, each striking a different pose. Dean takes a few pictures before handing it back to her. They gather round and flick through the photos and giggling appreciatively, chirping about angles and filters. The original girl steps back up to him, “Hey, these were pretty good. You wanna join our squad?” Her smirk and the way her friends’ eyes are all tearing into him like vultures clues Dean into what they’re really after – and it’s not his photography skills.

           “Sorry, ladies,” Dean says, backing away, “I’m really looking for my friend –“

           “We can help,” she says, stepping closer into his personal space, “Unless… you mean one of us –“

           “You’renotreallymytype,” Dean rushes out, coughing, “Yeah, sorry but I, I have to go.”

           She’s disappointed, but understanding, “Okay. Hope you find your friend then…” Her and her friends leave, Dean sagging with relief.

           ‘You and me both, lady,’ Dean thinks, ‘You and me both.’ He takes a swig of the canteen he wears, strapped to his side, and then one from the flask tucked into his waistband. Hopefully his thoughts stay focused on the mission and don’t drift further down the drain like they were before. Otherwise Dean was going to be parched.

           “Who charges twenty dollars for water?”

           Dean shot the cashier a dirty look and stomped his way off the line – the plastic flapping of his cheap flip-flops making his exit less threatening than he would have liked. He stalked over to a clear patch of dirt and sunk into the grass.

           Above him, the sun was nearly three quarters of the way done with its path. But the late afternoon sunlight was still strong, and the close bodies and the walking only further served to make him lose water rather than retain it. His canteen was bone dry, and his pride kept him from giving in to festival prices.

           ‘We’ve already blown so much of our credit on this hunt,’ Dean thinks, ‘I’m not spending any more unless it’s reasonable.’

           He leans further back, resting his elbows on the ground and stretching out his legs. Dean grimaces at his surroundings. From his place on the ground, he spies all the wonders of ‘Coachella’.

           In clear view of a cluster of port-o-potties, probably over fifty people wait in line for the bathroom. And standing downwind of it, Dean can tell that the outhouses have seen some shit. (‘Pun intended.’) If Dean were a lesser man, he’d find a different spot. But he’s tired, and he’s smelt worse things in his life than kale farts.

           Dean can also make out a few stages, where kids crowd around stringy haired beanpoles that just press a button. These idiots will listen to just about anything – he was sure someone played a yodeler that was remixed to hell and back. And the crowd went wild.

           ‘Maybe we should let Michael loose,’ Dean thinks, glaring at another group of men parading around in short, pastel onesies (‘How do you even pee in that?’).

           Feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket, Dean paused his judgment to check. It was a message from Sam:

           MOOSE: I don’t think I’ve found him yet. But I am having a serious problem blending in.

           Dean, curious, typed back for more info. Sam’s response was a quick picture of at least twenty girls, all discreetly watching him from various angles.

           MOOSE: I have a fan base.

           Dean laughs, typing away probably the most fun he’s had stepping into this place.

           DEAN: Watch out, they might think you’re the new Manson.

           He switches over to Cas’s messages just as Sam shoots him the middle finger. He taps at the buttons, a softer smile overtaking his face as he sends his message.

           DEAN: Any news, Cas?

           It’s awhile before Cas responds. Dean bides his time by searching the web, kicking his flip-flops on and off, and taking pictures of the funniest-looking people for his comedic spank bank. He’s just about to snap a great one of a girl with the president painted lewdly across her chest and back when Cas’s message pops up.

           ANGEL: Thought I saw him, but was just someone else.

           ANGEL: Also it is impolite to ask people if they are porn stars.

           ANGEL: I figured that would help, seeing as Gabriel is most likely where porn stars are.

           ANGEL: I didn’t get any help – all I got were slaps.

           Dean throws his head back and laughs, dropping his phone to his stomach. He laughs so long and hard; his stomach clenches and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Picturing it sends him into an even more intense fit of giggles. Cas walking up to a girl, asking her if she was a porn star, and then getting slapped. Him watching as she storms off, rubbing at his cheek – not to sooth the pain, but to ground his thoughts as he wonders what he did wrong. His big blue eyes turning downward like a dog in an ASPCA commercial.

           ‘I needed that.’

           DEAN: Nothing that exciting on my end. I’ll keep it in mind, though.

           ANGEL: Should we regroup?

           DEAN: Did you ask Sam?

           ANGEL: He agreed. We’re making our way over to your area. Where are you?

           DEAN: Near a few stands and port-o-johns. So, surrounded by crap.

           ANGEL: Hopefully you’ll still be there by the time we get back ;)

           Any and all mirth Dean might have been feeling in the moment dries up like a kiddie pool in the sun. He puts the phone away instead of responding to Cas’s ‘dumb text and damned smirk emoji’. Not even any of the losers that pass him by bring a smile to his face. And he sees some chick wearing the smallest of sunglasses that look as ridiculous as her overly baggy pants.

           Dean tugs the crystal off his neck and holds it up, frowning at the pinkish bauble. For all the hours he’s been here, it hasn’t glowed at all. Only now does it seem to take on a sort of hue, and that’s probably because of how the sun hits it.

           “Water, man?”

           Dean looks up to where a smallish man peers down at him, smiling. His hair is tied up in one long ponytail, and he’s covered in a scraggly beard. The guy must have been out there for a while, his white linen pants clearly dirty and covered in hand prints. Behind him is a small cooler, the words ‘WATER $5’ typed out on a piece of computer paper.

           ‘Sketchy,’ Dean thinks, ‘But probably the cheapest thing I’ll find out here.’ Dean leans just enough to tug his wallet out and slips the man a fiver, happily taking the cool bottle. It slips a bit, the heavy condensation drenching Dean’s palm.

           “You enjoy yourself out here,” the guy waves goodbye, “Don’t take things so seriously!” The little cooler trails sadly behind him as he disappears.

           Dean rolls his eyes, “It sure is…” Dean passes the bottle between his hands for a few seconds before opening it. When he does sip from it, he nearly cries from sweet relief. It was the perfect temperature, although tasted a bit too sweet for water. He didn’t care nor think too closely, instead guzzling the drink as fast as he could until there was nothing left of the plastic.

           He gasps, wiping away the residue near his mouth. The bottle falls to the ground, rolling a bit away. Dean doesn’t care; too sated by how quickly his thirst was quenched.

           ‘It’ll be awhile before they find me,’ Dean thinks, ‘I wonder if that guy could swing back again?’

           Before Dean goes searching, however, he gets distracted. His fingernails start shifting in colors, and his mind wanders as the pink turns to green turns to blue turns to red.

           ‘So pretty…’

           Cas happens upon the brothers in an odd state. Sam is struggling to keep Dean upright, the elder Winchester swinging round and round with glassy eyes and a bright smile on his face.

           “Is everything alright?”

           The brothers turn, and Dean leaps from Sam’s arms towards Cas. The angel catches Dean with a split-second to spare before he could fall to the ground. He notices a few things about Dean. His poncho has twisted itself, exposing more of Dean’s stomach, his jeans have a few new stains on them, and he seems to have lost his flip-flops.

           ‘No wait,’ he thinks, ‘They’re in Sam’s hands.’ Sam walks over, irritation painted clearly across his face. But Sam will have to wait, as Dean bounces up and down in Cas’s arms.

           “Cassss,” Dean slurs, “did’you… d’you know your eyes’s sparkle?”

           “What?”

           “Like sapphires,” Dean gapes at him, stretching his own eyes wide with his fingers, “Really big blue ones. Sparkle and shine… shiny shiny shiny…” he trails off, staring deeper than usual into his eyes. For once, Cas feels uncomfortable. But when he tries to pull away, Dean pitches a whine at the back of his throat, forcing him back.

           “Is he,” Cas starts, “Is he… okay?”

           “Does he look okay?”

           “Good point,” he says, “Do you know what happened?”

           “No,” Sam sighs, walking closer, “When I got here, he was full-on starfish staring up at the sky. When I asked what he was doing, he said he was watching the music –“

           “I was, Ssssammy!” Dean giggles, “It sucks, but it looks so pretty… like Cas’s eyes,” he leans in closer – nose to nose – “Not as pretty, but pretty, y’know?”

           “And then when I tried pulling him up he started flinging his limbs around,” Sam continues, “Trying to dance.”

           “Is he drunk?”

           “No,” Sam sighs, holding another object closer for Cas to inspect, “But I did find this.” He lifts an empty, plastic water bottle – crushed, probably by Dean in his frantic movements – towards Cas. The angel reaches for it, bringing it up to inspect. Cas can’t smell anything in it, so he tries a taste. A single drop snakes its way towards his mouth, and when it touches his tongue, he immediately knows what’s wrong.

           “He’s been drugged,” Cas growls, chucking the bottle away as if he’s been burned, “I could taste it – very close but not exactly like the drug you call ‘lysergic acid diethylamide’.”

           “Lysergic acid…” Sam thinks, groaning when his brain puts it together, “LSD? He took acid?”

           “A very strong dose,” Cas continues, watching Dean as his glazed eyes follow Cas’s lips – probably not understanding a single word, “And he warned me about not taking anything from strangers…”

           “Alright, this is bad…” Sam starts, “We can’t babysit him and search for Gabriel…” Sam looks off into the crowd, then up at the rapidly fading sunlight. Cas knows the younger Winchester is weighing his options – trying to decide between them.

           ‘Too bad we don’t have time for ‘between’,’ Cas sighs, hefting Dean higher up to where he’s almost standing.

           “Sam,” he says, “Go. I’ll look after Dean, you do another quick search – we’ll be here, and I’ll let you know if I see anything.” He doesn’t thank Cas, but his eyes shine with gratitude enough. Sam passes Dean’s shoes to his free hand, and wishes his brother a fond goodbye, like a parent would give their child. The older Winchester nods.

           “G’bye Sammy,” he says, “’N go cut your hair… s’too long… gonna trip over it.” Dean’s hand pets where he thinks Sam hair must be, which ironically is his thigh. Sam sighs and walks away, muttering under his breath.

           Cas turns back to his hunter, “Would you like to sit?” Dean scrunches his face in confusion, the words no doubt fighting for acknowledgment. But it gets across, because he nods before his legs give out beneath him. Cas has to guide him down. They end up sitting very intimately, with him practically cradling Dean, his hunter’s back to his chest. Dean thinks nothing of it, snuggling up against him. Cas wills parts of himself to stay strong.

           “Thanks, Cas…”

           “For what?”

           “For lookin’ after me,” Dean starts, “You’re always ssssoooo good at it… I ‘preciate it, really.”

           A warm smile blossoms on Cas’s face, and he’s glad Dean can’t see the blush slowly creeping up it. “You have no need to thank me, Dean,” Cas says, “I like looking after you.”

           “S’that why you were mad?” he asks, “’Bout me goin’ to th’other world? ‘Cuz you couldn’t look after me?”

           The memory woefully crushes the moment before it could fully bloom. The warmth stops, and is followed by an icy chill at the memories. “No,” Cas sighs, “There was… there was more to it than that…”

           “Oh no,” Dean giggles, “I said somethin’ wrong!” He reaches a hand out, waving it, “Yer wings are all tense… that’s no good. Stupid Dean… always gettin’ yer words wrong.” Cas stares at him, wide-eyed.

           “You can… you can see my wings?”

           “Course,” Dean sighs, “This shit’sposed to ‘open yer mind’ and ‘bring awareness’. Lotsa people see things they shouldn’t see – like around your head.” He twists, craning his neck around to gaze at Cas, “Iss sparkly, but different from your eyes. There ain’t just blue up there… but red, yellow, orange, green, and violet… even indigo! But they said indigo is basically violet, but I don’t buy that. Do you?” He looks back around, playing with his poncho.

           Cas watches Dean, concerned but also amazed. He’s never seen his hunter this innocent, but still so perceptive. It was like he was a child, wide-eyed and saying whatever came to mind. Satisfied with the simplest of things like tassels or the warm weight of Cas behind him.

           “Hey Cas,” Dean starts, “Can I tell you something?” He glances back, “But you gotta promise ta keep it a seeeeeecret!”

           He smiles, “You can tell me anything, Dean –“

           “Promise!”

           “I… I promise.”

           Dean nods, turning his focus back to his clothing. “I think I like you,” he says, “No… that’s wrong. I know I like you… like – a lot a lot.” Cas’s breath hitches, but Dean carries on, “And I’ve been thinkin’ – cause all I can do is think – and I don’t remember ever saying those words aloud: definitely not to you, but also never out loud in general, like when I was by myself. I was always scared I s’posed, but of what? You clearly like me back, other people’s opinions don’t matter ‘cept Sammy’s – and he wouldn’t care – plus, my ol’ man’s not makin’ an appearance anytime soon. He’s too busy fightin’ zombies to come back to life… anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, nothin’s keepin’ us from not being together but… us?”

           “And that’s dumb because we should be happy. Because things work out in the end even if we have to go through a lot. But sometimes places and ideas can be stronger than happy. Like… apocalypse ‘verse. That place is just a void – like… Empty. Here there’s so much life and so much color and voices… over there it’s quiet and gray. And when I think of emptiness, I think of you ‘n’ me. ‘Cuz you were stuck in the Empty, and that’s all I felt when you were gone. It made me feel… icky.” Dean scrunches his face up, turning back to find Cas’s eyes. He twines his fingers with Cas’s. “You stop the ickiness. It’s like, even when you don’t try, your grace just searches for my soul and lights it all up – pulling me into a high of its own. Your star stuff and my salt-o-the-earth soul combine and we climb up – past Heaven to somewhere even greater. And when your gone I’m here… but everything is muted, and I can’t understand why.”

           Cas knows he’s crying. But he doesn’t want this to end – even if this was all a drug-induced state, Dean speaks to Cas’s heart everything he’s been wondering as well. His words soothe the hurt left over from his previous actions, and he understands his hunter a bit more.

           “I don’t think I’m gonna remember any o’this later, Cas,” Dean admits, “Maybe bits ‘n’ pieces… but the fear is still gonna be there. It’s gonna be strong, and it’s gonna hold me back. I can feel them – like chains. They’re slithering like snakes, and usually that should turn any trip into a bad one. But I’m not scared o’them. I’m not scared because you’re here. You broke me free of chains once before and you can do it again.”

           “But that’s so serious,” Dean frowns, “And the guy said I shouldn’t take things so seriously. Which he’s right… that thinkin’ only got me in trouble. Ma and Jack and Charlie and even Ketch need me to keep a levellllll head. Gabriel walkin’ away wasn’t a failure, just a setback. But we’ve handled those in the past… and they only turn into failures when we let them. ‘N we’re too stubborn for that to happen. ‘M not gonna fail anyone ever again… I’m a hero. Billie said so…” He snuggles in deeper to Cas, sinking so his knees rest on Cas’s thighs, hat pushed off his head and into his lap. “’M thirsty again,” he tugs out the crystal that he shoved into his pocket earlier. Dean swings it around, “Wonder where that guy is?”

           “Dean?” Cas asks, “What are you doing?”

           “Last time the guy showed up, this glowed,” Dean giggles, “Pretty sure it did. Wanna see if it does it again.” Cas’s smile falls, and he reaches for Dean’s face, forcing his gaze from the crystal to him.

           “Dean, your crystal – it glowed?”

           “Yeah,” Dean says, “Which was weird… didn’t look like Gabriel. Looked like ev’ryone else here!”

           Cas releases him, letting his hunter play with the crystal, bouncing it from the leather cord and making it dance.

           ‘How much of what he said was true,’ Cas thinks, ‘If he saw the crystal… then he wouldn’t have drank the water. But if that wasn’t… then was anything he said?’ He looks at his hunter once more, taking in his bright eyes and childish laughter and his beautiful freckles. Cas smiles, ‘No… everything he’s said was truthful – his truth. I don’t need to doubt… but I should call Sam.’

           Cas pulls out his phone, calling the other Winchester and filling him in on what Dean told him – well, only the part about Gabriel. Dean starts tossing and turning, going “You promised!” Cas hushes him, covering the mouthpiece, “I’m keeping my promise – everything else stays between us.”

           Dean eyes him for a beat, but shrugs and leans up to pant a kiss on Cas’s jaw. The angel nearly drops his phone. He stutters through the call with Sam, promising to meet him at the gate. Hanging up, Cas stares at Dean. His hunter meets his stare, brow raised.

           “What?”

           “What was that for?”

           “What was what for?”

           “…The kiss.”

           Dean shrugs, “I wanted to kiss you? Not a lot behind kissing someone, Cas. I felt a deep affection for you and wanted to express it. It sucks holding everything in… sometimes you just gotta let the love out…”

           Cas huffs a laugh, agreeing with him. “Come on,” he sighs, “we’ve gotta go.”

           “Nnnnooooo!”

           “Dean,” Cas says, “We need to go. Let you ride the remainder of your induced state somewhere safe.”

           “But you’re here!”

           “And Sam?”

           Dean considers this, tapping his finger to his chin. He sighs, finding no argument with Cas’s logic. Cas watches his hunter pull himself up, like a newborn fawn in springtime. His steps are tentative and light – at times downright skipping – but he makes great time.

           Dean’s hand still glued to Cas’s… that’s a bonus.

           Dean opens a bleary eye, only to scrunch it closed once the sunlight hits. He has a headache, his body hurts, and there’s sand everywhere. “Who put the beach on my bed?” he asks, mouth stuffed with cotton.

           “More like why make your bed… the beach?”

           He startles, gaping at his angel sitting next to him. Cas stares out at the ocean, smiling, still in his outfit from yesterday save the boots that lay on the other side of him. The angel looks away from the water and down at Dean, smiling, “Sleep okay?”

           “I don’t… I don’t remember,” Dean admits, “Anything. What… where are we? Where’s Sam?”

           “Well,” Cas starts, “After we left Coachella, you demanded Sam drive us to the beach. From there, you proceeded to walk in the waves and discuss the importance and the insignificance of a grain of sand. By that point, Sam retired to the Impala.” Cas looks back, smirking. Dean follows his gaze, seeing his brother’s long legs sticking out from the open car door.

           Dean turns back to Cas, “Why would I be talking about sand?”

           “Probably because you were under the influence of drugs my brother tricked you into drinking.”

           The information slowly sinks into Dean’s awareness like quicksand. But the words’ meaning strings together quickly, and the hunter jumps up in fury. “Gabriel roofied me?”

           “No, not Rohypnol,” Cas corrects him, “Sam called it ‘acid’.” The anxiety lessens, but not by much.

           “Of course,” Dean rolls his eyes, “Like that’s so much better. The hippie drug at millennial Woodstock – what could be more fitting?” He plops back onto the sand, breathing his frustration out, digging his toes into the sand and wringing his fingers together.

           “Did I,” Dean starts, quiet, on unsure footing, “Did I do or… or say anything embarrassing?”

           “A few things,” Cas admits, eyes trained on the cresting waves, “But I don’t think anyone noticed or cared. You were one of many under the influence that day.” Dean’s chest sags, spine curving in on himself.

           “D’you… d’you remember anything I said?”

           “Most of it,” Cas smiles, eyes twinkling in the early morning twilight, “But I promised someone I’d keep it a secret…”

           Dean gawks at him. His surprise morphs back into annoyance soon enough, “Cas! Seriously?”

           “What?”

           “Just tell me!”

           “I made a promise –“

           “Obviously to me –“

           “Who said it was to you?”

           “Cas –“ Dean trails off, quieted by Cas leaning forward and planting a quick kiss to the corner of Dean’s lips. He pulls back, frightened and a bit… ‘hopeful?’ He shakes his head, breaking the spell. “What?” he asks, “What was that for?”

           His angel tilts his head, “What was what for?”

           “The kiss!”

           “Ah, the kiss,” Cas smirks, “It was because I was feeling affection for you, and wanted to show it. I believe it was you who told me that we ‘gotta let love out’…” Dean looks down, finding his feet more interesting than the knowing glint in Cas’s eyes. His angel just watches him, Dean can feel his gaze washing over him.

           “So,” Dean clears his throat, “So… Gabe probably high-tailed it out of here… knowing we’re here and all.”

           Cas shrugs, “That he probably did.”

           “Should we… I don’t know,” Dean says, “Go home?”

           “We could,” Cas says, “Or…”

           “Or…?”

           “I mean, those tickets were expensive… and Beyoncé performs tonight,” Cas argues weakly, smiling, “I’m sure spending another day here wouldn’t hurt. In the end everything will work itself out. And as long as we don’t give up… well, I think that gives us the right to enjoy a day off. Don’t you think?”

           Dean should argue with him. Tell Cas he’s crazy if he thinks they deserve a break now when all they should be doing is trying the next generational party or porn convention, searching for Gabriel. That ‘days off’ are for when everyone is back in their own universe with Michael and Lucifer’s charred corpses keeping each other company in a ditch.

           But he doesn’t. Instead, Dean feels a sort of clarity. Like in his drug-addled state, he managed to come to an epiphany – one that he doesn’t remember and Cas won’t tell him. And it should feel weird, not knowing if something life changing happened last night… but he feels better than he ever felt. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s still tripping or because of the way Cas looks at him – Dean assumes the latter because that seems more right.

           Dean claps Cas on the shoulder, “Yeah… yeah, another day won’t kill us. Besides, if Michael does wind up makin’ his way over here, at least I can say I’ve seen her perform live before I die. But…”

           “But…?”

           “Could we sit here a bit longer?” Dean asks him, blushing, “S’nice is all…”

           Cas’s smile grows even fonder. He pulls Dean’s hand off him and holds it in his hands. “I’d love that, Dean.”

           They watch the sun rise, just like that.

[itsmajel]

Majel Reads - October 2017

[What is this?]

Supernatural - Destiel

Purgatory's Angel by Ltleflrt                

In an act of heroism Castiel sacrifices one of his wings to save lives. But he isn’t sure he wants to live tethered to the ground, never to dance in the sky again.  Two stubborn Winchester brothers have faith that his future isn’t quite so grim, and that flight may be possible someday.  Castiel thinks they’re full of shit, but in the face of Dean’s cheerful optimism it’s hard not to believe.

[Explicit] [ 26,779 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Good One's Gonna Be by remmyme                

Castiel Novak receives a rather alarming text message from an unknown number, and what started as a simple misdial quickly turns into the greatest friendship Castiel has ever known. But Dean has many secrets, dangerous truths about the life he lives, and would like to tell Castiel exactly none of them.

[Explicit] [ 37,130 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

somewhere I have never travelled by museaway                    

Driving home from work at his family's shop, Dean is hit by a man driving a Prius. Though Castiel is initially rude, he offers dinner as part of his apology, and Dean is drawn to him the more they talk. Since Castiel is raw from a divorce with a teenage daughter, Dean doesn’t expect the relationship to go anywhere and is surprised when Castiel quickly becomes a fixture in his life. But while Castiel seems eager to build a life with him, Dean is hung up on his past and family obligations.

[Mature] [ 53,375 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Andrew Lloyd Webber Gets a Pass by delicirony (deliciousirony), opal_bullets

In which Castiel's manner is vague and aloof, Dean Winchester doesn't care for a cuddle, and there's no doing anything about it.

Or, Dean and Castiel attempt to survive rehearsals for a new production of Cats, and each other.

[Explicit] [ 37,597 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

nothing else matters by  xylodemon

"You say goodbye."

deancas codas: season thirteen

[Not Rated] [ 1,210 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

take that history by vaudelin

“How did you meet my father?” the kid asks him, over breakfast, while he’s pouring milk over Cheerios in tiny spoonfuls.

“In Hell,” Dean grits, like a warning. Let it be enough.

[General Audiences] [ 1,200 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

we are nowhere (and it's now) by xylodemon

Dean dreams about smoke billowing up toward a dark, starless sky. deancas codas: season thirteen

[Teen And Up Audiences] [ 3,248 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Captain America / Marvel CMU - Stucky

Not To Win But To Take Part by MarcellaBianca

Vignettes in the life of Olympic silver medalist, World Champion, and figure skating coach James Buchanan Barnes, from 1992 to 2018.

[Mature] [ 5,790 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Citius, Altius, Fortius (Faster, Higher, Stronger) by MarcellaBianca *re-read

Steve Rogers. James Barnes.

One, an NHL star with dreams of finally capturing an Olympic gold medal. The other, a former World champion and Olympic silver medalist, now a current coach and choreographer for the top flight figure skaters in the Russian Federation.

But before all of that..they were Steve and Bucky.

[Mature] [ 50,623 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

That Would Be Enough by MarcellaBianca                

Bucky Barnes, a Columbia University graduate with a Masters Degree in Education, is in his fourth year of teaching AP US History at Shield Academy, a private school in the very heart of the Connecticut valley in the bucolic town of Barkstead. He also helps run the Russian Club with his colleague and best friend, Natasha Romanov. He’s got amazing friends, three nephews he adores, and a beautiful little apartment. The only thing Bucky would change about his life? His luck in love. It’s been two years since Bucky ended an emotionally abusive relationship and he’s just now starting to feel that his heart has healed enough to try dating again. Then, a new Art History and English teacher arrives with tattoos he doesn’t like talking about, a body like a Greek god, and some secrets of his own, and Bucky knows he’s done for. Cue pining, sass, and a ton of Hamilton references.

CW: Eating disorders, references to emotional and psychological abuse, and attempted dub-con sex.

[Explicit] [ 59,797 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Happy Accidents by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves)

Bucky's still in cryo. Steve is in New York, angry and unsettled. And then Trump takes a photo in front of a Captain America mural like Steve has ever supported anything he says or does. So Steve enlists Pepper to throw a costume gala for LGBTQIA causes, and to celebrate his coming out.

It's a terrible idea, especially when a bunch of people come dressed as Bucky.

But then Steve meets a tall dark stranger...

  nb: the Trump content of this fic is essentially zero other than as an inciting incident in the first couple paras.

[Explicit] [ 29,777 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Alphabet Verse by thesardine

Summary verse: At a pivotal point in his recovery, Bucky is abducted and forced to act as the Winter Soldier for a SHIELD that is spiraling into the dark side.  This won't stop him from pursuing his goal: in the year 2016, times finally being what they are, Bucky has a very important question he wants to ask Steve...

Summary first part: There wasn’t anything left to salvage. That’s what Fury believed. It would have been a kindness to put him down.

When SHIELD finally releases Bucky from custody, he is not the man anyone expects him to be. Steve struggles to reconcile the stranger with the man who was once his best friend, but with Hydra regrouping after the events at Triskelion, Steve is dragged back into battle when Bucky needs him the most. Meanwhile, Hydra is itching to have its prize weapon back under their control, and a devastating betrayal pits Bucky against a terrible piece of ex-SHIELD tech that threatens to destroy everything he's struggled to rebuild. In order to survive, he must decide who he is going to be: the vulnerable Bucky Barnes or the indomitable Winter Soldier? It turns out there might not be as big a difference as everyone seems to think.

[Teen And Up Audiences] [ 99,778 Words] [4 Works] [Read on AO3 here]

Reflex Memories by sariane

Bucky Barnes never remembers who he is.

That doesn’t stop him from falling in love with Steve Rogers.

[Mature] [ 34,174 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Talking Pictures by sariane

Steve and Bucky go to the movies (together)

[General Audiences] [ 823 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Blank Slate by sariane

When Steve looks up at him, his eyes are slow to focus on Bucky. Steve sends him a blank look.

“Who’s Steve?” he asks.

Bucky’s heart sinks.

[General Audiences] [ 4,991 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

your homecoming will be my homecoming by lupinely

This is what Bucky thinks he remembers. Writing a letter to Steve in the trenches, muddy footprints, impressions of army boots on the ground. So cold his fingers ache. He’s writing the letter but it doesn’t make sense. He’s writing the letter but he wants to go home. It’ll make sense then, he thinks—it’ll make sense when they both come home.

[Steve/Bucky, post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier]

[Mature] [ 18,972 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Lamb and Martyr by Dira Sudis (dsudis) *Re-Read

"You could, though," Steve said. "If you were willing to hurt me.

[Explicit] [ 39,589 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Ring the Bell Backward by Dira Sudis (dsudis), pium_poetam

"I know how it is," Wanda said. "Being half of something. I would go anywhere if I knew he was there waiting for me."

[Teen And Up Audiences ] [13,234 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Come To Morning by emilyenrose

He figured it was natural, kind of—well, not natural, but he and Steve spent a lot of time together, and Steve didn’t get so much attention from girls, which was a crying shame because he was a good guy and a girl could do a lot worse. But it meant maybe Steve got a bit confused, because sometimes he would look at Bucky with this look. This bright, astonished look, like he was seeing something so good he couldn’t quite believe it was real. It made Bucky squirm inside, a little.

[Teen And Up Audiences ] [ 4,707 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Winter Comfort by greenbergsays

Thing is, peace of mind has been hard to come by since his programming had been destroyed.

Hell, if he's being truthful, peace of mind has been hard to come by since the Stark Expo of '43. Maybe even before then.

But the crafts? They help. More than he ever could’ve imagined, they help.

--

Also known as the fic where Bucky Barnes uses arts & crafts as a recovery tool and ends up teaching himself how to knit. Much to Steve's surprise.

[Teen And Up Audiences ] [ 2,578 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

to feel for the first time by lord_is_it_mine

I love him, Bucky thinks. I'll burn for it one way or another, but I love him.

The thought blooms inside him, attaches itself to the base of his heart and tethers him to Steve's side. He tries to remember a time when he didn't feel like this. He can't. That's it. This feeling isn't new. But the admission to himself in the simplest of terms- that's new. And it hasn't hit him yet, just how difficult it's going to be, to love someone you can never have, because he has Steve for now, at least in every way he's allowed to have him.

He has to believe that it'll be enough.

((five firsts Bucky got and one he thought he'd never have))

[Teen And Up Audiences ] [ 5,980 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Schrödinger's Romance by The_StonedSoldier

"It could be a relationship, it could not be. You can assume either until you see for sure the results."

We all know those moments. Those moments when your family all gathers around you and asks "So, do you have a boyfriend yet?". Bucky knows these moments all too well and, quite frankly, he's sick to death of them. Unfortunately, being a 21 year old college student makes it harder for him to come up with excuses, and with Christmas coming up he needs to think of a way out fast. A chance encounter with a stranger through an old library textbook could just be the kind of miracle he needs to make it through the holidays with his last shreds of sanity intact.

[Mature] [ 196,220 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Aim Towards The Sky by littleblackfox

Steve gets to his feet, taking the two steps to the container. He lifts the latches and pops the seal. Luis unholsters his second favourite gun and points it at the crate with a nervous whine. “Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Natasha hisses. Steve glances at her. “Lets see what we’ve got.”

[Mature] [ 57,709 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Take Apart Your Bones and Put 'em Back Together by die_traumerei

It seems so simple: Bucky is captured by SHIELD and brought to a facility in upstate New York.

Of course, it isn't. No one knows who is going to wake up in that bed, and what that will eventually mean for Steve Rogers, SHIELD, the Avengers, or Bucky himself.

A story about a man putting himself back together despite what everyone expects of him. A story about Steve finding a measure of peace, a story about a broken-up institution. A story about three women who made a magical place where not just Bucky can heal.

A story featuring a load of OC's, BAMF Bucky Barnes, an older but not particularly wiser Steve Rogers, fallible Sam Wilson who is no less perfect for that, and, eventually, two nonagenarians gettin' it on in a world they pretty well transformed, between the two of them.

[Explicit] [ 63,467 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

Shadowhunters - Malec

Bits of canon Malec by lemonoclefox

A bunch of unrelated canon drabbles

[Mature ] [ 17,958 Words] [16 works] [Read on AO3 here]

So Bright by lemonoclefox

"You want me," Magnus says, "to pretend to be your boyfriend." He sounds wholly unimpressed, and Alec has a moment of panic when he hears it out loud. "Yes," he says. "Temporarily." "You want me to fake date you," Magnus says flatly. It's not even a question, but more a way of really driving the point home about how dumb the idea is. "Pretty much.". Magnus narrows his eyes. "You do realize that this never works out well in movies, right?" he says. "Ever." Alec feels a distinct sense of embarrassment creep up now. "Look, I―" "Ever."

-

Alec has come out, but that doesn't stop his parents from their continuous attempts to set him up with a nice shadowhunter girl. So, what better way to finally get them off his back, than to say he has a boyfriend? Problem solved. Except they now apparently want to meet this guy, who doesn't exist. Thankfully, Magnus Bane -- who encouraged Alec to come out in the first place, and whose silent crush on Alec is just as bad as Alec's crush on him -- is more than happy to help. Even if the night doesn't end up going entirely as planned.

[General Audiences] [ 17,504 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

- - - - - - - - - -

(All summaries are the official summaries of the author. Stats and infos as according to hosting site or information given by the author)

Looking for more reading inspiration? Check out my fic rec tag here on tumblr, my reading list masterpost or just check out my AO3 bookmarks.