#Johnlockshire replies

[heller-jensen]

Prompt: For Dean's birthday, Cas Googles "presents for loved ones" and inadvertently follows recommendations for romantic gifts.

Shit. Okay. Hi anon, i forgot how to see inbox notifs and have no clue if u sent this during my drunk promt ask or sober prompt ask but will fill now.

Alright nvm ^^^ that didn’t happen.

 I lost this prompt for days after I got drunk and I couldn’t find it in my drafts and alas, finally. Anyways, this was written fully sober, lmao.

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart, 2.2k, 

fluff, light angst, post s14. (ao3 link if u want)

It’s January 20th, 4 days out from Dean’s 40th birthday and he still has yet to decide on a gift. It’s his first time, really, buying Dean a birthday gift. Sure, there had been the pack of funny socks he had snagged in passing from the check out at a Gas-N-Sip, but there hadn’t been any thought behind that, no planning, nothing that Castiel thought constituted the socks as a gift. Not really. 

Not only that, but there had never really been occasion to purchase a gift for Dean until now. Sam and Castiel had decided that, with the world coming to an end and all, Dean finally deserved a proper birthday party. In years past, he had either insisted on drowning out his birthday’s with booze or insisted on ‘no gifts.’ 

Castiel isn’t sure why, maybe because the eldest Winchester brother would only feel more indebted to the others around him, or perhaps because he simply didn’t like gifts. Either way, that’s why it became his mission to get the perfect gift for Dean. Something that isn’t a curse, but a comfort. 

The time after Mary and Jack had passed away and Chuck opened the gates of hell had been rough for Dean and him. Sam had kept a protective arm’s length between Castiel and Dean, insisting Dean needed time. It hurt to feel their bond being stretched thin as he’d watch Dean across the bunker from the corner of his eye, careful not to step into his space. Castiel had decided to stay in the bunker despite the tension though, Sam insisting they needed all hands on deck as they began on the long road to killing God.

Still, despite their close proximity, and the time they’ve had to heal, he can’t help but feel further from Dean. 

Cas remembers when Sam told a story of the time he gave Dean a chocolate bar and some motor oil for Christmas. Apparently, Dean had lit up at the sentiment, but Castiel can’t handle settling for something like that. 

Dean deserves something special. 

Castiel begins his search on Google using the simplest, most “Dean” search terms he can think of. 

Men’s flannels

Not special enough

Classic records

Maybe some time, but still, not good enough.

A new pair of boots

Shoes are always too risky. 

Cowboy costume

Halloween maybe, but not for this. 

Guns

Dean already has one he trusts. 

It’s been nearly two hours browsing Google and Amazon before Castiel has to take a break and let his head loll back with a sigh. 

After stretching a bit and standing up to pace the length of the bunker, he finally settles on a Google search that he’s sure will bear fruit. 

Gifts to show you care for someone. 

Castiel takes his time clicking through the links and scrolling through many of the lists. He nearly gives up when finally, an article entitled, “Gifts to Connect You to the Person You Care About”  catches his eye.

Cas smiles at the headline and clicks through the list, cataloging the possibilities away in his mind.

However, all those possible gifts dissipate from his mind as soon as he sees it. It’s perfect, and they have some in stock at the Bed Bath & Beyond an hour and a half away in Nebraska. With that, Cas calls a “Be back later!” into the seemingly empty bunker and heads out to fetch Dean’s gift. 

When he finally arrives at the store, he makes his way inside and heads to the sleep section, his eyes lighting up when he sees what he’s looking for on the shelf below a big “As Seen On TV” sticker. 

Next to the sticker it reads: “Bed Beats” 

Bed Beats are a pair of wristbands and compact speakers that are connected via wifi anywhere in the world. Just slip the wristband on, place the disc speaker underneath your pillow and send a request to your partner through the app. When they slip on their own wristband, the device will relay their heartbeat to your speaker and vice versa. Never feel disconnected again.

Castiel grins, giddy, and picks up the first box on the shelf. It’s exactly what he and Dean need. It’s the perfect way for Cas to watch over Dean without invading his space. It’s anatomical communication without speech. Cas will know when Dean needs help as his heartbeat speeds up, he’ll know when he’s at peace, he’ll know he’s alive. 

He also blinks at the bursting yellow sticker that sits on the top left corner of the box that exclaims, “Great for Long Distance Couples!” 

They may not be a couple, but with the way that their souls and relationship has grown distant, Castiel decides that’s enough to classify them as ‘long distance.’ 

As he waits in the line to check out, Cas also grabs a simple card and a tube of discounted, red wrapping paper left over from the holiday season. 

When he gets back to his car, he decides it’s best to get everything in order before presenting the gift to Dean. When he finally gets into the heavily taped box, he pulls out one set of the wristband/speaker combos and sets it aside for himself. 

Before shrouding the other set in the metallic, red of post-Christmas, 99¢ wrapping paper, he syncs the devices and downloads the app to avoid the hassle of setting it up later. 

Then, he writes, with his thigh as a sort of table, in the card with an old pen he found in the console of his truck. 

I’m including the instruction booklet in this card (please don’t read until after you open the gift!)

Dean, 

I know I’ve made so many mistakes lately, and that perhaps we do not see eye to eye on everything any longer, but this is a chance to connect without having to agree. Just to sleep and not be so alone. 

Happy Birthday. I hope you like it. 

Yours, Castiel

However, he scribbles out the ‘yours’ as it feels out of place in this letter. With that, he seals the card, and the instructions, into a white envelope with Dean’s name in angelic script printed on the front.

The drive home is pleasant and he can’t help but feel butterflies for the moment he gets to present it to his charge. 

The next days pass silently, Castiel with his gift for Dean hidden in his own closet and nearly forgotten amid all the preparations for the party. 

Sam was in charge of inviting people and Dean had insisted on being in charge of food and drinks. On the day of the party, Castiel sits off to the side as many of the guests enter, most are hunters he’s never met before, and he can’t help but feel like an outsider as the day of barbequing and reminiscing devolves into pie and drunkenness by nightfall. 

He’s glad to see Jody and Claire, but even then, their conversations are stilted, both of them want to speak primarily to Dean, the ‘birthday boy’, while Cas isn’t allowed that luxury. 

He sits away from Dean all night, only making contact to say “Happy Birthday, Dean” after he blows out the ‘4’ and ‘0’ candles that someone stuck straight through the latticework on a sweet, cherry pie. Cas smiles as Claire goes up and whispers something to Dean that makes him throw his head back in laughter and begin a lively conversation with her. 

That’s when he realizes he’s on the outside looking in. 

From where he stands, nursing a finger of whiskey, he can see Alex and Garth discussing the medical anomalies of Lycanthropes, Sam, apocalypse-world-Bobby, Donna and Jody playing some sort of cards-and-drinking game, a few people he doesn’t know attempting beer pong in the war room and even a pair of local hunters musing over the library’s expansive collection. 

He’s an outsider like he’s always been with the Winchesters. When he’s not of use, he feels unwelcome. He knows there’s never any ill intent, but even now, when he doesn’t even need his angel mojo, he still doesn’t quite fit. He doesn’t understand half of the banter thrown around the room, he can’t get drunk unless he drinks the entirety of the Men of Letters scotch collection, and he can’t interact with the guests without Dean coming up. 

At this, loneliness overtaking him, he decides to retreat to his room to wait the party out. 

He sends a nod and a tip of his glass to Sam before motioning that he’s leaving, Sam acknowledges him with a grin, drunk on whiskey and the excitement of the party, and Cas slips out of sight. 

Before letting himself rest, he sneaks into Dean’s room to place the card and the gift on his bed. 

He decides it’s best that way.

–

Castiel keeps his personal speaker and wristband close to him, beside his phone on his nightstand, hoping that some night it will be of use. He feels the uncertainty drift in and out as each night passes without so much as an acknowledgment of the gift. 

A week passes before anything happens. It’s 3 am when Castiel’s ears pick up on the small ‘ding’ that pops out of his phone speakers. 

He rolls over and grabs his phone. On the screen sits a notification. 

Bed Beats

Dean would like to share his heartbeat. Accept?

Castiel grins into the dark and arranges the speaker underneath his pillow before securing the soft band around his wrist at his pulse point. 

With a tentative thumb, he swipes to accept and lays his right ear down onto his pillow to hear Dean. He can hear his heart beating quickly, possibly a nightmare, Cas thinks, and wills his own jittery heart to slow. He has to be the grounding one for Dean, has to be a comfort. 

His own heart beats deep like a drum, and soon he can hear Dean’s heart rate slowing to match his own. Soon, they’re in perfect sync with one another. He feels closer to Dean than he has in months and hopes Dean feels the same. 

He listens as his charge’s heart rate begins to slow even more, to around 75 beats per minute, he notes, and assumes he’s slipping into sleep. 

Castiel, usually one for wandering the bunker after the brothers are asleep, doesn’t dare lift his head from his pillow until Dean ends the connection come morning light. 

It continues like this for many weeks, Dean requesting Castiel’s heartbeat in the wee morning hours, disconnecting at sunrise, and going about the days as if nothing has changed. 

Nothing’s really changed during the day. They continue to keep their distance. Dean thanks him for making the coffee one Sunday morning and Sam tells Cas, “See, space is all you needed,” his eyes sincere, “It’s healing.” But Sam doesn’t know the reason the healing process has begun to speed up. Cas can tell Dean hasn’t told his brother of the gift, and he prefers it that way. It’s the first thing between them that Sam isn’t clued into since before Mary’s passing. That alone brings him peace.

It’s a Tuesday in early March when everything shifts. Cas is lying on his back in his bed, nerves nearly taking him. Dean almost always pings by 3 am, and now it’s 45 minutes past and he’s trying to keep calm. 

A sound makes Castiel’s ears prick up, but this time it’s not a sharp ‘ding,’ it’s the soft sound of knuckles rapping on his door. 

Cas, beneath the covers in his most comfortable shirt, one Dean loaned him for the brief period he was human, props himself up on one elbow and quirks his head as the door opens softly, revealing Dean in his doorway. 

He’s in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with holes around the seams, and a pair of black briefs, and the “Send Noods” socks Castiel bought him. 

“Dean?” 

“Hey, Cas” Dean whispers into the darkness as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with care. 

Words die on Castiel’s lips and his breath hitches as Dean pads, soft and calm, to his bedside. 

He lifts the corner of Castiel’s blankets ever so slightly and looks down into the glint of Castiel’s blue eyes as if asking permission. Castiel gives him a slight nod and holds his breath as Dean lifts the covers further and slips in under them. He positions himself with his head resting on the left side of Castiel’s chest, ear right above his heart and arm draped across him, hand gently thumbing at the soft fabric on Castiel’s right shoulder. 

Castiel can feel his own heart rate pick up, it’s swift and uncontrollable and it’s filling his vessel up to the brim with hard thumps. He’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever breathe again when a low thud overcomes his near panic. 

As bright as a bell in a void, he hears it, Dean’s heartbeat, drumming from the deep. This time it’s his charge’s heart that’s strong and steadfast and convinces Castiel’s own to join it in slow synchronization. 

Castiel takes in a breath and slows his own heart rate. He sees Dean’s eyelids flutter shut and he lets his chin rest in the soft of Dean’s hair, his left hand rubbing slow circles into his back. 

“I missed you.” 

Dean doesn’t speak, but Castiel can feel the whisper of a smile move on his chest. 

As he lets himself drift into peace, thoughts blink in his mind at the pace of his heart. 

I fit here. Dean fits here. This is my family. This is who I love. This is home.

____

(Gift based on this!!!)

[cas-lost-grace]

johnlockshire replied to your post “THE PRISON!AU FINALLY HAS A TITLE! And it´s gonna have a lovely...”

Omg I’m so excited to read ! Idk if you have a taglist or anything, but if you do, can you add me (i also am on a buncha tag lists so if you have one and im already on it lmao my b) ? Thank you!

Awww thank you! I´m so happy to hear this! I was so afraid nobody would care.

I don´t have a tag list, but I recently started thinking about making one.

Is there anybody else who would like to be tagged?

[impliedscamp]

It’s a clip from Limmy’s Show !! Best sketch comedy out there! I used to have to watch with subtitles but now I’m used to it and understand the accents perfectly !

I can see why you’d need subtitles, half of the time I’m like ‘where are the consonants! where are they!’ jshdhdj

[gemmaswife]

Happy Birthday !!! Have a fab day ! 🎉

Thank you!!! <3

[asherlockstudy]

@johnlockshire replied to your chat “Martin Freeman: Yeah, I wouldn't mind if we were going further with...”

Yeah, did martin say this or is it hypothetical

@thistie replied to your chat “Martin Freeman: Yeah, I wouldn't mind if we were going further with...”

When did Martin say that??

It’s a quote going around for ages here on Tumblr. There are many posts with it and it’s attributed to him but I don’t know if he really said this.

Some tumblr posts for example:

http://getthefrigginsalt.tumblr.com/post/17320847426/everyones-been-asking-us-if-were-going-any

http://whysosherlocked.tumblr.com/post/72197647023/martin-freeman-ships-johnlock-harder-than-you

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

johnlockshire replied to your post: we just had a 7.1 earthquake 

I felt it too ! Hope you’re ok

we chilln

[ivegotthekittens]

johnlockshire replied to your post:               ��    See, this is why I’m a destiel shipper who hates...                

   @ivegotthekittens ah man, I’m sorry you hate me, that’s a bummer. If you bothered to read my tags, you’d see I tagged this as crack, but I gotchu. I debated posting it as well, which is why I changed the wording and literally made it as (its 6 am so im not gonna use the right word here bc im tired) non-pointed as possible. I just wrote ‘someone’ bc this isn’t meant to be @ anyone in particular. I’m sorry I make you hate destiel shippers, but hey, to each their own.   

Thank you for the clarification, you’re right I didn’t see it tagged as crack and I apologize for that. I don’t hate you personally, I hope you can understand that.

And I also hope you can also understand my rage as an aromantic person who keeps being erased by this fandom I am apart of, by people who I share a ship with, of being denied of my own why of reading and relating to the show, finding a unique possibility for representation, while being accused of homophobia. I know it’s not everyone, but it does add up, especially when so few seem willing to defend the fact different people are allowed to have different interpretation even when sharing a ship. One again, I apologize for jumping into conclusions about your P.O.V.

[totheverybestoftimes]

@johnlockshire Richard Brinsley Sheridan's "A School for Scandal". Check it out if you love obscure 18th century comedies of manners I guess?

[love-in-mind-palace]

johnlockshire replied to your post “Green and Blush! Your account gr8”

fuck i forgot to put "is" in that sentence and now my grammar just looks utterly deplorable wo w

That happens to me all the time lmao. Don’t worry.

[heller-jensen]

Dean goes up to Cas, gives him a bunch of flowers that he picked for him, panics and speedwalks away leaving Cas delighted but confused. Cas knows that giving flowers is a human custom to express affection, but what should he do with them? Just having them stand around and wilt seems like a waste. would that even express that he feels the same for Dean? In the end Cas makes a flowercrown out of them, looking hella cute and making Dean blush and Sam proud. How about it? Have a nice day btw.

Yeah i did not write this at the beach like i said i would……and it’s so bad…the tense changes a bunch, but i just needed to get writing, u know? honestly your prompt is written far better than this in itself, so kudos to you lmao. also i cut sam out bc it was hard enough to get dean and cas’ characters right and i write sam a lot less often! sorry!

i hope you enjoy anyways, and have a wonderful day (or night idk) love!

Dizzy With Daisies

destiel, word count ~900

Dasies had always reminded Dean of Castiel. The white petals representing the brilliance of his angelic grace, the yellow center, his soul, bright and warm as the sun. 

Dean knew it was cheesy, maybe worse than the mixtape, but he was tired after a hunt and a new patch of wild daisies had sprung up over the bunker and—he could make excuses all day, all he knew was that he wanted Cas to have those flowers, he deserved them after sticking with him and Sammy after all this time. An angel tied down by brotherhood of all things, he’d stayed, through trial and tribulation and dammit, it wasn’t brotherhood to Dean anymore. 

That felt wrong, even drifting around in his thoughts. Dean felt…more for Cas. He felt the profound bond, a beacon of hope, a blessing, and he felt it wearing away at his soul with each passing day he ignored it. So, fuck it, he was gonna pick the flowers that made him think of Cas and he was gonna tie a fucking bow around the stems and he was gonna present them to the angel because, god dammit, he had nothing else to lose. 

—

Dean knelt in front of the flowers he had cut, individually and with great care, and toyed with the brown twine in his fingers. He rolled his eyes at himself, making a fucking bouquet of all things, get yourself together Winchester, and sucked in a sharp breath as he arranged the flowers and tied them together by the stems with a neat little bow. 

—

Castiel was sitting, reading in the library, Sam was nowhere to be found, it’s as good as time as ever. 

“Hey, uh, Cas..” Dean mumbled as he fiddled with the bouquet he held behind his back.

“Yes, Dean?” 

Dean could feel his face heat up as Castiel’s blue eyes met his with a smile. 

“I got you these.” He stated, pushing his hand holding the bouquet out with a straight arm and a bit too much force. 

Castiel looked curiously at the bunch of daises that Dean had presented to him. The angel felt his heart stirring deep within him as he quirked his head at the gift. He reached up gingerly and took the bouquet from the hunter’s outstretched arm, letting a few of his fingers brush against Dean’s. 

Before Cas could thank him, Dean was rushing away, heading to his room to ‘lock himself away forever, thank you very much.’

—

A vase didn’t feel as though it would be enough. 

A vase was dull and practical and not affectionate at all, not nearly affectionate as the act of hand cutting wild flowers and arranging them into a perfect bouquet. 

A vase could never do justice to such a gift, and Cas knew, “you keep those.”

Castiel spent the day lying among the grass and flowers, his own bouquet placed gently into a mug full of water to keep the flowers content until he decided what to do with them. 

Undoubtedly, Dean had meant something by the flowers, and Castiel wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to see more of Dean Winchester’s rarely-seen soft side. 

As he lay there, staring at the clouds, a thought struck him.

With a giddy smile, he sprung from the grass, like a daisy sprouting to life, and headed to his room to get started on his little project.

—

Dean was shaking for the rest of the day, he hadn’t realized until he handed Castiel those flowers just how much meaning hung on them. If Cas had to research what flowers as a gift meant, Dean was toast. The feelings he had spent so long repressing would be out there, in the open, floating around like dandelion seeds and fucking up the perfect garden he had tended. 

It was at this moment, standing alone in the kitchen, having snuck out of his room to grab some food and sneaking back to seclude himself, that Castiel entered. 

Dean froze, his back faced Castiel, but he could hear the soft of footseteps on the hard floor. 

“Dean, I just wanted to say..” 

In the brief pause Castiel took, Dean’s mind went spiraling to the worst.

He doesn’t want you in that way. 

He faced away from the angel, only turning around after saying Castiel’s name, to make sure the words he said were taken as truth. 

“I’m so sorry Cas, I didn’t mean t-”

However, the image that he was greeted with was so much different from what he expected. 

Castiel stood, like a flower himself, with daisies wrapped delicately around his head, braided together into the perfect crown. His black hair spilled over the edges and the daisies sunk in like they were taking root in dark, rich soil. 

Dean’s breath hitched and Castiel took a few steps towards him. 

“Thank you Dean, they are truly lovely.” 

With this, he stepped closer still and Dean’s heart nearly beat out of his chest when Castiel reached up and placed something atop his own head. 

He raised a hand to feel around his hair, eyes locked with Cas’, and couldn’t supress the laugh that escaped him when he felt the delicate petals of daisies circling his head.

“Thank you, Cas”

“Of course, Dean.” he beamed. 

Dean’s face was plastered with a goofy smile and Castiel’s expression reflected his as he reached a hand to Cas’ own crown and let himself stare into his angel’s eyes. 

Subtly, he ran his fingers through the soft tufts of hair surrounding the buds. 

Finally, fucking finally, after basking in the quiet sun of affirmation, Dean let himself drift towards Castiel and, letting the minute nod of Castiel’s head be a confirmation, brushed his lips against the angel’s. 

“Flower power, Cas, flower freakin’ power,” he mumbled jokingly against soft lips, before leaning back in for more. 

[love-y-o-u-3000]

johnlockshire replied to your post: also… the scene where Mrs Hudson throws John the...

Wait what

I meant the track “in the tower“ which is the last track of TLD, people think they are gonna kiss to that... but the last scene of TLD (most probably) is John leaving Baker Street by himself

[cas-lost-grace]

winchester-ofthe-lord replied to your post “johnlockshire replied to your post “THE PRISON!AU FINALLY HAS A...”

why, yes, I would very much like to be tagged ��❤️

You, my dear, would be tagged even if you didn´t want to. For reasons

[heller-jensen]

"You deserve a great love story, too."

Doing this

Dean’s sitting in the sinking softness of an over-used couch. He’s got a mimosa, awkwardly dainty in his rough hand, and he can hear voices coming from the kitchen. 

He’d offered to help, but Sam and Eileen had insisted he get comfortable. 

When Eileen enters the room, she’s carrying a tray of fruit, Sam following behind with eggs and bacon, piled high on two serving plates. Eileen exits the room for a moment to grab plates for them and when she returns she sets them on the coffee table, slumping down on the couch next to Dean. Sam takes the armchair next to their couch and smiles over at his older brother after a sip of his drink. 

“So, what’s all this about, Sammy?” Dean says while gesturing at the overflowing spread of breakfast foods. 

Sam grins and reaches his free hand to Eileen’s. 

Softly, he speaks, “Eileen and I are getting married.” 

Dean’s breath leaves him for a moment before he sets his glass on the table and goes to embrace Sam. It’s a fierce hug packed with pride and love and emotion. He knew this was coming, but it’s still surprising. 

When he lets the hug soften, he smiles at his brother, with tears in his eyes, and speaks, voice cracking, “You deserve it, Sam.” 

Finally, he lets go and looks to Eileen. He gestures for her to stand and he embraces her too. When he lets go of her, he signs to her with the skills he’s been working on since Sam first told him he loved her, Take care of him.

She smiles and signs back, voice complimenting her hands, “I will.”

Sam beams at the interaction and sits back in his chair, Dean makes his way back to his corner of the couch and lets the news sink in with a gulp of his bubbly, sweet drink. 

He wants to ask so much about their plans, their wedding, their future– but he’s interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and a familiar voice echoing through the entry. 

“Sam?” 

Dean freezes. It’s Castiel. 

He looks to Sam with wide eyes, but Sam just has that stupid, earnest look painted across his face. 

He lets out a low, scathing whisper as Sam stands to welcome Cas and show him to the living room, “What the hell is he doing here?” 

Sam just shakes his head and leaves the room. Eileen is looking intently at him, but he ignores her gaze. 

It’s been three years since he last saw Cas. They never could work through everything. When they’d finally defeated Chuck and handed over the rule of Heaven to Amara, Cas had left, human again, to start his own life. It broke Dean, but he’d just kept on keeping on. Stayed alone at the bunker when Eileen and Sam moved out, completed hunts on his own, dispatched cases to other hunters like Bobby used to. It’d been a lonely couple of years. 

When Cas enters the room, all wild hair and dark stubble and tight, blue jeans, Dean’s heart stutters. 

All he can think is, Fuck, I can’t do this.

When Castiel sees him sitting there, looking lost and sorry and a bit of a mess, he frowns, then looks to Sam with a question in his eyes. 

“Take a seat, Cas.” Sam smiles like there’s not something going on, like everything is normal, ‘Team Free Will back together again!’ 

Cas sits on the couch on the other side of Eileen, and Dean can’t breathe. If he does, he’ll smell the shampoo Cas used earlier and the soft, tropical smell of his deodorant. He’ll smell the eggs and bacon on the table and the way they make him remember a time when he felt at home. He’ll smell the candle sitting on the mantlepiece that Eileen lit for the ambiance. And he can’t do it, because all of that reminds him of what he doesn’t have. He doesn’t have a fresh-smelling candle to brighten his room. He doesn’t have a home and a family-like he used to. He doesn’t have Cas. 

When it all becomes too much, awkward silence falling over the room like a blanket, Dean puts his hands on his knees and stands up. 

“I’m gonna get some air,” he announces with a nod. 

When the crisp autumn air hits his lungs, he feels the tension leave his body. He leans against Baby’s trunk, watching the fields of wheat swaying across the dirt road he took to get here. He can’t dwell on what’s happening, can’t blame Sam for getting him into this mess, simply has to move on. 

He thought he had, but maybe it was just the beer and whiskey that made him think he was coping. 

After a few minutes, the cold seeping through his flannel, he hears the door open behind him. His muscles tense at the thought of it being Castiel, but he relaxes when he glances behind him and sees Sam coming towards him. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and a strand of long hair falls over his right eye. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispers. 

Dean’s smile is tight when he speaks, “It’s fine. I get it. Castiel is your friend too, and he deserves to hear the news from you.” 

Sam huffs out a laugh at that and Dean looks at him, trying to piece it all together. 

“We um…we actually planned this,” he looks down at his shuffling feet, “Me and Eileen. We thought you two might bond over hearing the news, might finally decide to get back togeth-” 

Dean snaps, “We were never together.” 

“Right, and I know that Dean, but you’ve been digging yourself into a lovesick pit for three fucking years now and it’s about time you snap out of it!” 

Dean doesn’t respond, just looks out at the sweeping Kansas plains in front of him. 

Some time passes in silence. 

Then, he feels the soft grip of Sam’s hand on his shoulder and hears him, so quietly that a gust of wind would have hidden the words, “You deserve a great love story, too, Dean.”

And with that, Sam is gone, back into the warmth of the house where Dean can hear Eileen and Castiel laughing and Sam announcing his return with an enthusiastic, “What did I miss?”

Dean takes a deep breath, gets into the Impala, and drives away. 

[heller-jensen]

cas walking into the bunker bathroom and finding cas in the tub taking a bubble bath reading a book and just spluttering at the sight, "uuuuhhhh that's a good book." cas smiling at him, "it is yes, I enjoy the protagonist, he has a big heart, reminds me of someone." dean's just like "heh right" and blushing like a moron talking to cas while he's taking a f*cking bath. But the worst is when cas asks "would you like to join me?" with an a deceivingly innocent smile and dean just nods mutely.

[dean] 

(i don’t want to taint this with my commentary so just excuse me while I go scream about this perfection in the corner) 

[heller-jensen]

Idk if you want a prompt or our own little thing so I’ll just do both: First Christmas alone with each other. — Headcanon; This is post-finale and Dean finally gets to fix cars and Cas wanna learn too and it’s a cute thing with them working on old vintage cars together. Not every day, but some.

Neither of these were supposed to happen, but I’m glad they did. 

Thank you for the ask! Mainly I wanted your headcanons but like….wow both?…so cute… 

Cars

I love thinking about Dean teaching Cas how to fix cars, and Cas lets him, even though he knows exactly how cars function. He’s seen millions of them made right before his eyes, watched as horse-drawn carriages were phased out, witnessed Ford’s assembly line, even sat in on the battle between Ferrari and Lamborghini. He lets Dean teach him anyways because Castiel has always been missing a component of piecing together a car; the love. And so when Dean puts his hands under the hood of a car and smiles at whatever shiny mechanisms stand out there, Cas smiles, simply because Dean is. 

All I Want For Christmas….

Dean and Cas go out on a hunt one winter. There’s a rumored yeti-like creature stomping around a ski-area and snatching people on the tree runs, shrouded from sound with snow. 

They arrive at the mountain, their chests heaving with the sudden rise in elevation, and decide to get drinks at the bar to chat with the locals. They hear all sorts of stories, ones of shadows lurking beyond the bounds, of creatures, tall and white, slinking softly, their sound absorbed by the snow. Dean tries to act skeptical, but the locals insist, there’s definitely something out there. Dean grins at Castiel and the angel frowns. 

“You know what this means, right, Cas?” 

“No, Dean… What?” 

With a clap on his hand on Castiel’s trenchcoat “We’re going skiing, buddy,” he smiles and downs the rest of his beer. 

Once they’ve bought their lift tickets and they’ve finally rented their equipment,  the rental techs looking oddly at Castiel, wondering how one human could be so oblivious to skiing, they trudge awkwardly out to the main chairlift. 

Castiel can’t understand why people would participate in an activity with such uncomfortable footwear, and Dean can’t help but silently agree. They clip their skis on and slide into the lift line. Castiel nearly falls immediately so Dean holds him close to his side, using the newness of the skis as an excuse.

The lifties notice the struggling pair and slow the lift for them, directing them to the yellow line and instructing them to look over their shoulders to wait as the chair approaches. 

Finally, chair hitting the backs of their knees, they slump down, pulling the safety bar down, and sighing in relief. 

Castiel’s glum look quickly changes as they rise into the air, further above the rocky run below. Castiel grins over at Dean but he just clenches the safety bar, pretending they aren’t flying, pretending they aren’t in nothing but a fucking chair swinging precariously 100 feet above the ground. 

Finally, they reach the end of the lift, sliding out from the chair, bar lifted and skis parallel under them. 

They only make it a little way down the mountain before Cas, arms out like wings at his side, flies past Dean like a god damn expert. He zigzags into the trees and Dean follows, skiing in an embarrassing ‘pizza’ wedge, knees trembling and hips in pain from the awkward position. When he finally reaches the trees, he sees no sign of Castiel, hears nothing but the uncomfortable silence of a forest hibernating under the wiles of winter. 

He tries to call out, “Cas!” but his voice stops dead in its tracks. He slowly slides on, letting the trees guide his turns. Suddenly, like a dream, a cabin appears before him. It’s not depicted on his map of the ski-area so he decides to stop and click off his skis, he’ll be more mobile that way. He sticks his skis in the snow, his poles in an ‘X’ above them to warn others from running into them. He struggles with walking, the exaggerated heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe of his ski boots uncomfortable in the powder. 

He pulls off his glove and puts his hand on his gun, holstered on the layer under his snow pants, as he knocks on the cabin door. 

An old man, with a beard and bright smile, answers.

Behind him, Dean sees Cas snuggled by a crackling fire, a mug in his hands and a content smile on his face. 

The old man gestures for Dean to enter, and he does so with great trepidation. 

“Cas?” 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas grins sleepily up at him. 

The old man closes the door softly behind him and looks at them fondly, “I’ll leave you two be, then.” 

Suddenly, he’s gone, nothing but the sounds of wood-burning and Castiel sipping on tea filling the cabin. 

“What’s going on? We have to get out of here, Cas!” 

“Dean,” wide, shining eyes look over to him, more content than he’s ever seen, “It’s Christmas, we’re holding down Saint Nicholas’ vacation hide-away, and all I want is you.” 

Dean looks wildly at Cas over the confession and the turn of events, but eventually, the smell of Christmas pies and magic fill his nostrils and he lets himself be pulled into the illusion, if only for a moment. 

[heller-jensen]

Dean Winchester in absolute certifies Badass, so when Cas falls for the first time, Dean volunteers to teach him to use human weapons. Sam just kinda shakes his head, knowing what’s going to happen, but gives Cas a couple of culture lessons all the same. So afterwards, Dean and Cas are in the bunker’s during range, and Dean is behind Cas (you know how it goes, chest pressed to back, hands on waist) when Cas just empties the entire frikin clip at the target. All of them hit dead center. (Part 2)

(part 2) All of them hit dead center, in the middle of the head, except for one, which is solidly on the groin. Cas just smirks and looks back at dean and goes “I’ve been on earth since before weapons were invented. I know how to shoot a damn gun” and then proceeded to use every single weapon perfectly and just plain awesomely while smiling innocently at dean, who’s getting more and more red. They eventually end up grappling on the mat, and Cas pins dean every. Time. Three guesses where that goes

OMG THIS IS AMAZING THANK YOU!!