#You know that Cas starts to heal in the other books but also the way he speaks about Endverse Dean when he's allowed to? 😭😭😭😭

[alaskashigh]

may I humbly ask thee for fluffy and angsty CaliYork hc’s? :)

*stares at you with my autistic eyes 👁️👁️*

*not forcing*

*gasp* me? you’re asking me? the caliyork god? /j

of course you can have angsty and fluffy Caliyork hc’s!! (all of them, if i had the time 😔😔). also a lot (majority) of these headcanons are inspired by/from my friend @ghost-jamie’s headcanons bc they are so great and amazing and caliyork is literally the number one thing we talk about-

sorry if some of these suck. my main focus has been on ny/nj/ca for the past few months so, yknow

also ima open up my asks bc im bored and want to get my tumblr account alive again! send me headcanons/wttt related stuff please!

Caliyork fluff

They have the best cuddles. Since New York is always cold and California is always hot their cuddles are great. New York likes to press his chest against California’s back (the hottest area for Cal is his back) when he’s the big spoon and vice versa for Cal.

California loves to make cool things he finds for New York. New York has an entire collection of origami and other artistic things Cal’s made for him.

Their favorite things to do is to curl up with each other and do their own little things. Whether that be Cal reading a book and New York listening to music, it doesn’t matter. They just love being near one another.

California can be a really good cook when he’s in the mood. Before he and New York got together he was in a big slump, always pushing himself too hard and stressed, so he relied heavily on microwavable meals and junk food. New York coming into his life really helped get him back onto his feet. New York loves his food whenever he cooks and will cook with him sometimes.

The power couple in meetings. Don’t fuck with one of them if you don’t want the other to jump you. Neither of them are scared to fight.

Can be heard laughing in each others rooms late at night or during the day. Those two are always doing something together and relaxing in one of their rooms.

New York likes to bring Cal to his rats/pigeons just to see his happy and excited face. He finds it adorable at how happy he gets playing with the animals.

angst bit is cut off just incase. tw for drinking, arguing, and fighting mentions. if i need to add anymore tw’s let me know!!

Caliyork angst

California has bad attachment issues and a fear of abandonment. He’s always scared that New York is gonna leave him once he realizes that he isn’t worth it or that he’s with him out of pity. New York makes sure to assure him that no, he isn’t gonna leave him and that he does love him very much.

New York has come home on multiple occasions drunk as hell and bloodied after a fight. It scares the hell out of California each time. They’ve gotten into a few arguments over it and NY’s promised to step away from drinking. He’s healing slowly.

New York worries that California’s gonna leave him as soon as he realizes that New York is a shitty partner. California lets him know that he’s the best boyfriend Cal could ever ask for and that no matter what he isn’t leaving.

They’ve said some hurtful things to each other during rare fights multiple times and have almost broken up over it. It usually ended up with the two taking breaks for a bit before starting up couples therapy to the others relief. Things are getting better and they are learning how to communicate better.

New York has a bit of a jealousy problem. He’ll latch onto California and attack your ass if he deems you as overstepping boundaries. California’s the same way but he’s a bit more relaxed about it since he knows New York well and trusts him. It’s caused a bit of a problem on multiple occasions so they are working on fixing it.

[obsessionnostalgia]

Claire Novak fic recs: yeah, I was trying to reblog something every time I found a new one but its too disorganized so now it lives here. You have a Claire Novak rec? i want to read it.

Where the Heart Is by goldenraeofsun

Features a time-traveling Claire hanging out with Sam and Dean circa season 7. There's angst. There's Claire hooking up with a diner waitress. There's Claire having self-worth issues. There's Claire making fun of Dean to his face. All the good stuff.

Like a Duck, He Fits the Bill by golbygloom

Claire Novak and her budding attachment to the guy who isn't her dad but wears his face. The angst of having to get out of your own way to make connections with others.

Let Me Come Home by prosopopeya

Deancas-centric but Claire Novak is a POV character, struggling in foster care and the uncertainty of whether her uncle (Cas) will get his shit together in order to take her in. The Claire and Dean parallels are strong.

Rec from kerryweaverlesbian:

no such thing as a unique experience by @astralpenguin

A 15 year old Claire meets the (now older) little girl who was possessed by Lilith for a long time. Neither of them realise this element of connection for quite some time. Tons of empathy and understanding. These two feel so much like complex teenage girls, and also the dramatic irony is incredibly fun. One of the best fics I've read all year

Rec from carhengeapocalypse:

Another rhinestoneangels (@pinknatural ) fic fatherisms

Claire is a baby when Jimmy agreed to be Castiel's vessel and Dean steps in to help take care of her. The timeline jumps around and the story is told in snippets and it's very good

as if death itself was undone by microcomets

Claire confronts a human Castiel in a grocery store.

Claire heaves a deep, bone-weary sigh. “Here I am, consoling an ex-angel using my dead father as a meat-puppet on his self-esteem issues. I should write a book or something.”

everlasting by entropic_saudade

Claire wants to have a permanent mark of her and Kaia’s love. In order to do the stabbing safely, she helps Dean bring Cas back from the Empty so he can heal her.

gifts given & words unspoken by rhinestoneangels

Short: Dean and Claire make cookies after Castiel brings her back to the bunker, injured. Some implications at this point, Claire is more family to Dean than Mary. Set in season 12.

coming out by dicklessthewonderclown

Short, Dean POV conversation on a drive with Claire where she comes out as wanting to date Kaia and also admits (by accident) that Dean is a kind of sort of maybe father figure to her.

A Christmas Miracle (for someone else) by bitterred

Set post-canon, mirroring all the "Cas is dead and Dean is depressed" fics, Claire Novak finds a cat during the holiday season.

i'm sorry i'm the one you love (no one will ever love me like you again) by monsterfatigue

Kind of weird that Claire decided she was in love with Kaia even though they had barely known each other. After Kaia comes back from the Bad Place, nothing is simple. Claire isn't sure why she thought it would be.

This Is A Love That Lasts Forever by HeddersTheOwl

Another fic where Claire being friendly with the angel that wears her dad's face is complicated.

"You look too much like him. It's not fair. You're not him." 

meteor site (our hearts collision) by sobsicles

Claire has religious trauma laced with homophobia. Kaia doesn't want to be anyone's nightmare.

the way a dad should by fleeceframe

Dean and Claire are driving back to Jody's when Claire needs to stop because her period has started. (Side note: i was SURE that part of the reasoning for carrying tampons/pads in the impala was going to be partially related to the fact that they're sometimes good for wound care, in that the products are designed not to grow bacteria.)

i don’t know nothing (and that’s fine) by halfwheeze

Claire Novak meets Magda Peterson, the psychic girl from 12.4 American Nightmare, and likes her so much it makes Claire look stupid. Look at that, they have matching religious trauma: "When Castiel-" she pauses, remembering that his name isn't carved into the internal dialogue of every girl with religious trauma from here to Texas, "the Winchesters' angel, I don't know if he was with them when they got you- when he came to Earth, he needed a vessel. A human strong enough to hold an angel, with strong enough faith to allow them in and allow them to stay." That's what the Winchester Gospels said about them anyway. Castiel just said that they needed to believe. They were special. Believers. Bullshit. "When Castiel came to Earth, he took my father. And then, when my father told him he couldn't stay anymore, Castiel approached me. Being a vessel, it's passed down in the family line. The blood. The body. All they need is the body. And I was a kid. He might as well have been God. So I said yes. And my father took him back. If you think about it, it's my fault that my dad is dead."

Bartenders Love Me by clusterjam

Claire Novak doing her Dean-coded thing: hustling in a bar, flirting with the bartender, and oh yeah: angst about whether her dad would approve of her.

Subject: Dean Winchester Is Dead by angelszn

There aren't enough fics about Claire finding out Dean (or Cas) are dead. Dean Winchester is dead. Dean Winchester is dead, and Claire got the news in an email of all things. As if the gravity can be contained in the tiny black letters on the screen. It didn’t even seem possible. 

patricide of the lowest order by angelszn

This one's dark (Major Character Death tagged) -- Castiel killed Claire's father, after all, and what is Supernatural but a series of revenge plots?

two steps on the water by orpheuscas

Claire in the aftermath of being cured of werewolfism. Heavy dose of "Dean is basically Claire's dad now" included.

she'll say she got the map from me by 13zepptraxx

Hey you know that episode where Dean goes back in time and hangs out with his mom? He tells her, "No matter what you hear, or what you see. Promise me you won’t get out of bed." but then an angel wipes her memory? What if Claire went back in time after Dean died because she was sick with grief and basically did the same thing?

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The thing is. The Winchesters would be a tragedy if Dean weren’t in it.

If there was no Dean narrating, no Dean with his car and pen and notebook, then there would be no doubt that the story being developed in front of our eyes would be a tragedy. Everyone is pushed by an invisible script along the tracks of their role in a cruel god’s story. All the characters are cogs inside a machine. The outcome is already written, it already happened. You can’t change the past. You can’t rewrite a book that has already been typed out. There’s no hope.

But Dean’s presence in the narrative changes things. Dean writing with his own hands on a notebook. Dean who is the future and who defeats the machine in the future. Dean who rips out the script in the future. Dean who refuses to be the character he’s supposed to be.

Dean who is hope.

I don’t know if the show will fix the finale. Probably not. An actual continuation will fix the finale. But this show, I suspect, could actually fix something else: 14x18.

The past has already happened so it can’t change. But the future can be changed, it doesn’t have to still follow the script.

Maybe I’m wrong and this show will, indeed, change the past. But there’s a way of fixing something bad about Supernatural without needing to do that.

If Dean is in heaven (again, the finale fix-it will be its own show, one that has Dean and Cas front and center) then this can be a partial for-now finale fix-it. Because the so-called finale (-guy pointing at forehead meme- there can’t be a finale if the thing doesn’t finish) wants us to drink up the idea that a dead Dean is static. He drives nowhere just to stop. He does nothing but drink a shitty beer that reminds him of his dad and shitty childhood, and the only prospect in front of him is to hang out with his parents next door.

This show has the opportunity to be like “oh? You put Dean in heaven? Very well. He’ll be Dean Winchester in heaven then. Doing his thing. Healing”. No static Dean who’s like “oh it’s nice to be dead :)” but a Dean Winchester who doesn’t stop fighting his fight, fixing what he can fix, help who he can help.

Heal himself by healing his family. Healing his parents.

We’re supposed to believe that Mary Winchester is also just happy to be dead and reunited with her husband for eternity. That was a pretty horrific perspective in Supernatural. Mary had started out a new chapter of her life, was making new experiences, dating someone else, learning about her husband abusing their kids - and then she’s slammed back into the dead wife role.

We were like, there is no way those two people can just meet again and heaven and just spend the rest of eternity together, like nothing else happened to them, like they didn’t both go through experiences that changed them.

But what if that’s what Dean is doing? What if Dean is looking for Mary and John’s friends, possibly lovers who could never be because of destiny, and allow them the life they could have had if not for the machine?

What if Dean allows them to reunite - all of them looking the way they did when they were all together, young and as innocent as they could ever be, already traumatized but capable of hope and love?

What if Dean is the one who brings the gang together again, yes dead - you cannot change the past - but free to be themselves and love each other and heal together?

This is my theory for a “the past cannot be changed” scenario. Who knows, maybe the show will indeed pull some fuckery and surprise me. Dean did promise us surprises. But if this is the case, then I think I would be still satisfied with it. Yes, John and Mary Winchester’s story is a tragedy, but Dean Winchester can heal it and consequently heal himself by healing it.

I mean. I would love a scenario where the show goes. “Ah, you put Dean Winchester in heaven with his parents? Very well. He goes to get his father’s boyfriend and his mother’s girlfriend. You’re welcome.”

[nmvord]

Golden couple.

Going back to Choices, playing Immortal Desires, and I have a lot of thoughts (and feelings).

Easily top 3 books with delightful LIs and most importantly, a very distinctive MC. The choices were meaningful and I love the little things that could go different way from each of them.

This is the first time I really wanted the poly route. The ending, however, left me feeling... somewhat underwhelmed. With the heat of actions, suspense, and the romances from ch. 1-15, the end only got me, "That's it?"

This has been a roller-coaster of emotions.

"Hey, Gabe, if you want to do, let's say, an uprising to kick Lewyn away, you know, after that crap he'd done back in the hospital, just say the word." My MC talking to Gabe, somewhere along the way after the book ends as she cocked her crossbow.

Spoiler alert for the book's ending.

I don't mind this is a single book. That means I can ignore most of ch. 16 (especially the end and that friggin epilogue) and made my MC however I like!

In Lin Renton and Gabe's story, Lin survived not because she was injected by vampire venoms. From that climax in ch. 15, where the Heart's power were raging and if I remember correctly, they moved towards Lin (was it absorbed by her? Was the Heart somewhat sentient and it could choose its "host" so to say). Instead, after she was dying, Gabe and Cas was stunned by a blinding glow coming from Lin's body, the Heart's power infusing to her and ended up exploding, throwing the two vampires away.

Lin came out unscathed. No injuries to be seen. She smelled human once again, just lying under the broken beech tree, seemingly only sleeping. Gabe and Cas was in shock; not only because of the explosion, but they also felt warm power radiating from Lin's spot. Since they didn't have any clue what'd happened, they ended up bringing her back to her house to be taken care of (cluing Lewyn of her transformation).

In the end, I wanted Lin to be a witch. The Heart's guardian. It's also a sneak peak to the origin of witches ('cause hey I want other supernatural than vampires). And remember that road-trip these three had talked about in passing earlier chapter? Their next adventure is that. Lin sensed the Heart's still not healing well after The Creator's attack-- it was poisoned by him. So these three went out of Crimson Beech to find the cure (we don't want the vampires in their home to lose their protection, right? This is very important for both the Venandis and Clements. Right, Lewyn?), trying to manage Gabe and Cas' vulnerability of being away from a Ley Line, having fun inside their RV (where did this thing come from? A gift from her mother maybe? I don't think she'd give something like that to her own daughter. Maybe Cas found it abandoned and he started meddling with it?), meeting lots of other Supernatural, studying forgotten vampiric and witch's skills from them, and of course, learning more about Lin's "condition".

I also want to find out more about the stories of vampire-witch's shaky relationship (hey, external conflict for the pair! Lin and Gabe had been official so here was the big oh-oh and let's see what these two will do). In my mind, these two kinds were so volatile to each other because their need for Ley Line's power. Witches wanted to nurture them while vampires also wanted their power so they could be protected from the sun. I also remember those old vampire folks from Pearce's era that offered bizarre herbs for the beech tree. Hey, now, Lin you got your first key. You can start searching from there, I think.

[darklingswhxore]

This is gonna be long ..... somethings somethings happened and i wanted to see gwynriel theories and oh boy i was in the tags for like 5 mins and i lost half of my brain .....

Comparing az's mood at the end of elain pov to that of gwyn's

I dunno why people just ignore the whole damn book and focus on just bonus pov he was clearly gloomy the next we met him if gwyn had such a bright joyful effect on him what the hell was he gloomy for ??

Az seems more calm and playful with her we got to know him more

I'm sorry have we read the same bonus pov ... he legit wanted to run away bt thought it wasn't civil he was being civil with her 😭

the ribbon thingie gwyn didn't even say anything it was nesta plus it was supposed to be a girlboss moment for them

His shadows are only interested in gwyn

i dunno think about who az might be interested in and if his shadows are so interested in gwyn maybe she should be in relationship with them���� boy his shadows are always ready to defend to elain why do people assume they don't like her ...

Az wanting to plwasure gwyn her being his mate

For the love of god where ??? Just where ... what even makes people think she might be his mate if we are going by it's just the opposite ... you all have a problem with az having sexual thoughts for elain bt then run around and make headcanons with gywn like please make sense

Celeane - mor comparison ......... chaol and her actually had something my guy 😭 chaol and az are in way different situations and exactly yerene was a side character introduced in chaol's book her journey took place in that book unlike gywn's hers is already over ( don't even come to me with assasin blade)

Elain gives the dagger back and she would use a weapon by lucien

Are we talkin about the same elain who doesn't even uses the gloves lucien gave her 😂

Being spy master and not planning ahead az doesn't know a lot about elain

He didn't plan ahead because he is " the spy master" he knows the place they are at he is active in all the politics he wants to be with her bt at the same time everything ain't white and black he didn't even think elain would return his feelings he's already been hurt for 500 years because of this ofcourse he didn't get his hopes up ..... you'll tellin as is cass knew everything about nes or rhys did about feyre 💀

Did people in acotar universe assume nessian were mates ? Cuz i couldn't find a single instance (maybe that roof scene bt that was like the end ) also it's never stated az thought of mor as his mate where do these people even take their points from..... nessian and elriels development started at the same point .... az and elain were comfortable with each other way before nessian were revealed as mates .....

His powers sang in answer

Yeah so did nesta's i guess it's over for nessian nes and gwyn the power couple healing together and everything cas should just leave nes alone he is dragging her down🙃

Koschei will use gywn to blackmail az to find the fourth dead trove

Yeah not elain who is legit a seer bt gwyn you know what yeah maybe koschei is using gwyn and once elriel find the fourth trove she'll steal it 🙃

[sarah-bae-maas]

Gwyn wants to explore, and Azriel needs a friend - a Gwynriel fic - Part 1

In honour of this blog turning five years old, I thought I would treat you all to a two part/chapter Gwynriel fic that has been wandering around in my brain throughout countless days of lockdown and tortuous university classes. 

I’m already well underway with part 2 of this fic, but I do have some assignments coming up, so expect it within the fortnight! 

So please do enjoy this nearly 15k words worth of Gwynriel goodness <3

Masterlist Ao3

_____________

She was staring at him.

Again.

Azriel had always paid special attention to Gwyn – not that he would tell her that, of course. It was a secret held deep in his shadows that she was his favourite Valkyrie, the one he thought the most brave and resilient. It would not be an unpopular opinion if he did share it, the other women looked at her with great admiration, and Nesta often sung her praises when the female wasn’t there to refute her words. But Azriel knew the presumptions people might make if they knew he thought it, and the last thing he wanted was for a misunderstanding to make Gwyn uncomfortable.

Gwyn was holding a bag for Emerie to kick, her stance strong enough that she didn’t flinch at all with each pummel. Her focus should have been on Emerie’s form, but rather her teal eyes were glued to him. Every time Azriel looked over at her, she quickly shifted her gaze to her friend, but his shadows constantly reminded him that Gwyn was once again paying her attention to him.

Cassian called the end of the session. Azriel was grateful, he was finding it harder and harder to train the women effectively when he knew Gwyn was right there.

He practically fled the scene, his cheeks brushed with red, barely nodding to the women who said their thanks to him as he passed. It’s not that he didn’t like her attention, but it made his stomach feel heavy, his hands shake, and he didn’t like how out of control he felt whenever she looked at him like that.

He settled in the dining room. Standing, he braced his hands on the table, a bead of sweat dripping off his forehead and tarnishing the wood. Nesta wouldn’t like if he got his sweat all over the table, even though her and Cassian had coated it in far more scandalous bodily fluids. He should do something productive, like work or eat or pester Rhys and Feyre to have Nyx for the afternoon, but instead he chose to close his eyes and picture the person who’d been haunting him.

He and Gwyn were friends. She was over nearly every night to eat with Nesta, their dinners a sort of lively Azriel hadn’t experienced since he’d lived in Illyria with Rhys and Cas. It was joyful to live in a space filled with such light, but also overwhelming. Azriel found that as much as he loved the time with the rag-tag team they’d made for themselves, his social timer still clicked in his mind as a constant reminder that sometimes dealing with people, even the ones you loved, could be utterly exhausting.

Not with Gwyn though, his shadows lamented, setting him straight. No, Azriel never felt tired with her.

“Az?”

As though his thoughts alone had summoned her, Gwyn’s voice startled him out of his reverie. He turned, his lips parting slightly at the sight of her.

She was still in her training gear – a shirt and pants lovingly stitched by Emerie with embroidered flowers decorating the seams – her neat braid falling around her face, framing her pearlescent skin in fire.

“Gwyneth. Do you need something?”

Her eyes were wide, her hands clasped in front of her as she wrung her fingers. It made Azriel tilt his head in confusion, not understanding why she was so nervous. They spoke every day, she mouthed off at him often, and her shift in confidence had him surprised.

“I have a proposition for you, but you must promise to not tell a soul.”

Azriel raised a brow, leaning back into the table. He spread his hands before him. “I’m listening.”

Gwyn swallowed, her cheeks turning the same shade of red as her hair.

“Imsturbalt,” she squeaked.

“What?”

“I masturbate a lot!” She smacked her hands over her mouth, as if betrayed at the words they spilled.

Azriel’s jaw went slack, his eyes near bugging from his skull. “Okay… that’s good? Self-exploration!” He half-heartedly waved a celebratory fist in the air, not sure what to say to her statement.

She groaned louder than a stabbing victim. “I was thinking that, I didn’t intend to say it aloud.” She rubbed her hands over her face, peeking at him through her fingers. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secrets are safer with me than they are anyone else.” Azriel smiled, trying to diffuse the obvious tension in her body. “So, your proposition?”

She tensed her jaw, moving her arms behind and looking at the ground as she spoke. “I guess my previous statement that will never be mentioned again to anyone if you like having the functional use of your organsperhaps wasn’t entirely irrelevant to what I’m going to ask you. But I beg, please let me finish before you say anything, and also don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

“Okay.”

“Silence.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She grinned at him, her eyes finally meeting his again. “As you know, better than anyone really, I have a difficult past.”

Azriel wished he could burn the images of finding her on that table from his mind. He’d had to actively teach himself not to envision her crying and screaming for her sister when she’d first became a permanent fixture in House of Wind. He’s seen many horrific things in his time, was no stranger to the worst humanity had to offer, but it was different when it was someone so vulnerable, so selfless, so important to him. It might have made him a bad person that he didn’t equate people’s trauma accordingly, but how could he possibly care for a stranger as much as he cared for Gwyn?

“What happened to me made me fear my body. Fear the sexuality I see women like Nesta and Mor own. They’re so powerful, and the things that have happened to them… They’re not broken. They’re not less. They’re not afraid.” She paused, sighing deeply. “I would never look upon anyone in the library as lesser than because of the things that have happened to them. It wasn’t until I met Nesta and Emerie that I realised I didn’t give myself the same grace. I want to own the parts of me that were stolen. I want to feel like my body belongs to me. I didn’t even know where to begin, but then the House gave me this book, some fluffy romance novel, and the girl in it was just like me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just felt so seen. Like the Mother herself had handed this smut piece into my lap to make me feel better.”

Gwyn moved to one of the lounge chairs that Cassian had haphazardly shoved into a corner one night when Nesta didn’t feel like moving from the dining room. Gwyn was effortlessly graceful as she sat and curled her legs up, her head resting on her fist.

“That’s where the masturbating comes in.” Her eyes avoided his again, focusing on patterns her fingers drew in the velvet material of the chair. “The girl in the book did it. She’d never had an orgasm either. So, I did too.” She laughed quietly. “It made me feel good. Not just the physical pleasure part, but the part where it was just me, empowering myself at a pace I was comfortable with.”

Azriel wished he could say something, but one, he knew to be silent and let her have this moment, and two, he didn’t know how to tell someone he was proud of them for touching themselves without it sounding weird. He was proud though, extremely so, at how strong she felt from acting on her wants. Her resilience had always astounded him.

“In the book, the girl meets this man.” Her voice lowered, barely more than a whisper. “He treats her so kindly, in a way that I’ve seen Cassian treat Nesta a million times, in a way I yearn to be treated. I’ve given myself a clean slate. This body, my body, has only been touched by me. I am whole. I was never broken, just healing. And I’m at a stage where I want more. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Azriel wished her could say yes, please the eager note in her voice that hoped he was on the same page as her, but even his shadows were silent to her desires.

She glanced at him just long enough to see him shake his head. She tipped her head back. “When Nesta first started sleeping with Cassian, I was so curious. What were they doing? What was he doing to make her look so satisfied? But when I tried to picture it, my stomach would churn. And then time passed. I grew stronger. I became a Valkyrie. And like many others before me and many more in the centuries to come, I walked in on Cassian and Nesta fucking.”

Azriel inhaled sharply. To hear the vulgarity fucking from a mouth so pure sent a bolt through him, and he chided himself for his inappropriate thoughts during such a serious conversation.

“They don’t know I saw, not that I think they would have minded. I would bet good money that if I asked for a demonstration on pleasurable acts Cassian and Nesta would be more than happy to comply. Where I might have once felt sick from seeing them, instead I felt-”

She cut herself off, looking for the right words.

“I felt burning desire. I’ve never been so envious of someone in my life. I didn’t want to have sex with Cassian, but by the Cauldron I wanted to feel the way that Nesta did. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t know you were such a good secret keeper. Or such a good friend.”

Azriel couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “Gwyn, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to have sex with me.”

***

Azriel stared at his ceiling, his shadows dancing and rolling around him.

I want you to have sex with me.

He tested the words on his own lips. They tasted sweet. They also brought an uncomfortable amount of pressure to his cock. He refused to touch it though and kept both his hands firmly behind his head.

He’d told Gwyn he needed to think about it, and she understood. She said she didn’t expect an answer from him straight away.

Azriel had a lot to consider.

He was practically titillated that when Gwyn had decided she wanted to explore herself with a male, it was him who she thought of. She expressed that it was because she knew he’d care for her, that he’d respect her and because of how much she trusted him. There were not words to express how hearing such things felt to him. It made him want to do this for her, because his soul be damned he knew he would do right by her. Make her feel good, feel special, feel appreciated.

It would be amiss though not to acknowledge that if he did do this, let her warm his bed while he tasted her, it could ruin not just the friendship they had established but also the dynamic of the house. She had assured him that if his answer was no, they would continue their lives as if the conversation never happened.

Which brought a darker thought to his mind.

If not Azriel, then who? She would surely approach someone else. Someone not deserving of her, who might not treat her how she deserved to be treated. That was not to say Azriel thought that in all his bastardly ways he was what Gwyn should have – no, she deserved more than he could ever give – but at least he knew that she would be safe with him.

The thought of another male’s hands on her made him see red.

That was answer enough.

***

Nesta and Cassian were gone for the weekend, caring for Nyx while Feyre and Rhys had a romantic getaway for the weekend. Azriel secretly thought Nesta was using this as a trial to see if her and Cassian were ready for a baby.

It was the perfect opportunity to have Gwyn join him.

The day after she’d approached him, he’d slipped her a note after training to say that he was all in, and to meet him the next night. He tried not to watch her face as she read the note but couldn’t help it. She went bright pink, but she seemed exhilarated.

And now she was standing in his room.

They nervously looked at each other. Azriel wanted to give her the chance to speak first other than their obligatory greetings, but she was tongue-tied.

“I was thinking we should take this in steps,” Azriel said, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her refrain from pacing back and forth.

“That seems logical. What sort of steps?”

“I was thinking tonight we take sex off the table.”

“What?” Her face fell, hurt evident in her expression.

“Just for tonight. Gwyn, have you had your first kiss?”

She shook her head no.

“Then maybe we do that. And anything beyond only what you want. I need you to know that you’re in control here. Whatever we do or don’t do is completely your decision.”

She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “That sounds reasonable. Like you’re my little puppet.” Her hands mimed using a marionette, and Azriel found it easy to reciprocate her smile.

She moved to his side, planting herself on the bed next to him. He couldn’t help but notice the how good she smelled, how carefully her hair had been arranged and how she’d worn her nicest dress. She had wanted to look good for him, and the thought made his heart squeeze.

He reached out and held the hands she clasped in her lap. It made her look at him, her teal eyes flashing in the room only lit by his fireplace.

“You’re a very good friend, Azriel.”

“Do you want me to kiss you, Gwyn?”

She nodded, turning her body to face him.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then her lips, before he settled on cradling her face. She leant her head into his hand, so trusting as she looked at him. His hand was so big that the fingers that lay on her neck could feel her hammering pulse.

She leant in the same time he did.

At first it was just a peck. Their lips brushing against each other’s so gently it made Azriel ache. He pressed his lips to her again, and again, getting her used to the feeling of his lips on hers. She enthusiastically reciprocated, her slender fingers running up his chest before meeting behind his head, tangling themselves in his hair. He smiled against her mouth, pleased at such a reaction when the real kissing had yet to even start.

His grazed his tongue along her lip, and she eagerly opened her mouth, letting his tongue slip inside her. The noise she made at the contact buzzed straight through him, and he was pleasantly surprised when Gwyn, in all her eagerness, took control of him.

She kissed him as though she had done it her whole life, like her mouth belonged on his, and the feel of her delicate tongue made him deepen their kiss, angling her head so they could better feel one another. She was practically leaning back, and if this had been a meaningless one night stand she’d have been on her back by now with Azriel’s mouth between her thighs.

She broke away from him, his mouth instinctively following hers as it wanted more, making her gleam in pride.

“I want to change positions,” she said, her hands still wired into his hair.

“Anything you want,” he replied breathlessly.

Azriel didn’t know what to expect, but it was not her getting up and crawling into his lap. She straddled his thighs, and there was no way she wouldn’t be able to feel his erection pressing against her. He did with his hands what any male would do in this situation, and her giggle was enough to know that she’d wanted him to do that.

“Your hands are on my ass,” she laughed.

“Is that okay?”

“Very much so.” She took a deep breath. “Take your shirt off. Please.”

He obliged.

“And you should – you should take off my dress too.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have a slip on underneath.”

His hands shook slightly as they ran up her sides and to her back, undoing each button on her dress. To give her a more authentic experience, he decided to lean in as he did, kissing a new spot on her neck with each button that came undone.

She raised her arms so that he could slip the dress over her head, and he averted his eyes when her slip rode up with it. He didn’t look back until she had adjusted herself. When he did, he nearly fainted.

She was divine in her beauty. He always saw lovely she was, anyone with eyes would. Her body was lean and tight. Her uniform may have hidden it, but she had the power of any warrior in her body. Azriel wondered if she purposefully hid her strength so that it was a secret part of her arsenal. Smart female.

He ran his hands up her spread legs before planting them back on her ass. Unable to resist, he squeezed his hands, making her groan.

“Your hands feel so good,” she gasped. “Do everyone’s hands feel like that, or is it just you?”

He snickered. “Anyone who is worth their weight knows how to make a female feel good.” He bumped her shoulder with his nose. “What would you like me to do now? Do you want to keep kissing?”

“Fuck yes I want to keep kissing.” She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest as she playfully nipped at his bottom lip. “But maybe we could do other things. Even better things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Gwyn reached behind her and grabbed one of the hands resting on her behind. For the first time since they’d started, she looked nervous. Her legs were shaking, and Azriel was unsure if it was anxiety or anticipation for whatever she had planned.

She guided his hand under his slip until he was cupping her sex.

“You aren’t.” He swallowed hard. “You aren’t wearing underwear.”

She shook her head playfully. “I didn’t think I would need to.”

She pressed his hand into her, and he moaned at the wetness he found. She was so slick for him already, and all they had done was kiss. He did an exploratory brush through her folds, and as at the tip of his finger grazed over her clit, she arched into him, holding on tight to his shoulders.

He started teasing her, obsessed with the little noises she was making at the back of her throat as he did, but he soon realised something.

Usually, when Azriel was with a female, they got progressively more… turned on. Their bodies would react to his touch, and his fingers would be coated in their juices before he even attempted to enter them with either his fingers or his cock.

Gwyn was not.

It seemed the more he touched her, the more it was like her body didn’t want this. For all intents and purposes, she was… drying up?

His hand went still, and he could feel her body instinctively relaxing as his hand left her pussy.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, clinging to him.

“You don’t enjoy this.” He made her look him in the eye, and his throat tightened at how she looked. There were tears lining her eyes and a deep furrow on her forehead.

“I do, I promise I do. I’m just nervous. If we – if we just overcome this one thing-”

“No, Gwyn.”

“Please Azriel,” she said desperately, trying to guide his hand back between her thighs.

As gently as he could, he lifted her from his lap and placed her beside him on the bed. Her breath shuddered, and he couldn’t bear the shattered look on her face.

She didn’t say a word, just stood up and tried to locate her dress. Azriel didn’t even know where he had thrown it, but he stood and stopped her from looking anyway.

“Gwyn…” He grasped her hands in his, towering over her as they faced each other. “I want to do this for you, please believe me when I say that. But maybe we just need to take a few more steps first. Do something else before that.”

“What else is there?” She was dejected, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m doing Az. And I swear on the Cauldron I want this. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m just so nervous, and I get in my head about everything I do-”

“Hey hey hey, stop that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the ropable tension in her body started to ease out. She slumped against him, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace. “This is fine. Great, even.”

“You are such a liar.” She sighed, but at least she returned his embrace, tucking herself into him so they were as close as possible.

He tried to think of ways to salvage the night for her, to give her at least a little bit of what she wanted.

An idea sprang to mind.

“Gwyn?”

“Mmm?”

“Get on the bed. Lie down.”

She looked up at him hopefully. She didn’t need to be told twice. She practically flung herself at the bed, laying down on her back and resting her arms above her head. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the way she clenched her thighs together than spread them apart like a silent invitation.

Azriel couldn’t help but brighten at her enthusiasm. He undid the buttons on his pants and kicked them down so he was naked before her.

“I thought we weren’t having sex!” She jolted to her side, holding herself up on her arms and staring at his penis, her eyes practically bulging out of her head at the sight of it.

There were many things Azriel did not like about himself. But he had a damn fine cock.

He laughed at the look on her face and shook his head. “We’re not having sex. I’m not even going to touch you.”

She deflated. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

He followed her to the bed, climbing over her without touching her and planting himself next to her so they were lying side to side. He turned his head to her, and she looked at him curiously.

“We’re not just going to lie here naked, are we? It’s a bit cold for that.”

It was a little chilly. Her nipples were hard under her slip, which had ridden up to her stomach.

“No, but we can get under the blanket if you want.”

Her gaze raked up and down his body. “I’m happy above the blanket.”

They laid in a comfortable silence for a moment, happily taking in each other’s bodies. She was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen, and he was glad to see that their kissing antics had left her dishevelled. He liked that look on her.

“Are you actually not going to touch me?”

“I’m not. I think you should touch yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll touch myself, too. It’ll be a way for us to be more comfortable with each other. For you to be in control of your pleasure.”

“Will you watch me?” she murmured.

“If that’s okay. You can watch me, too.”

She considered his words, and Azriel wondered if this was in fact not the good idea he’d thought he’d had. She pursed her lips, and he knew her answer when she grabbed the hem of her slip and pulled it off, leaving her naked before him.

They stared into each other’s eyes as her hand brushed over her exposed breasts, and Azriel had to hold himself back from taking them in his mouth, from pinching her perked nipples with his teeth. Maybe later, that could come; he thought she would quite like it.

Her right hand kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple while her left dipped down between her legs. Two fingers ran over her core, and he studied the way she massaged herself so that he could do it to her in the future. At the sight, he tentatively grasped his cock, wanting to make sure that she was truly okay with him touching himself at the vision of her with her fingers dipping inside her, moistening herself before focusing on her clit.

Her eyes flickered to his stroking hand, and her response nearly made him finish then and there like a teenager exploring themselves for the first time. She’d seen him, and lifted her leg so that it was draped over one of his, giving her a better angle on her clit and twining them together.

“I’m used to being quiet,” she shuddered. “So that no one hears me.”

“Be as loud as you want. Scream for me.”

Her hand quickened, and his sack tightened as he matched her speed with his own hand, gripping himself tightly. He moaned so loudly that he was once again thankful that Cassian and Nesta weren’t in the house. Even the magic of the walls mightn’t contain the pleasure pulsing through him as he watched her.

Her legs started to shake, and the little noises she’d made before were no more. Her voice was loud as she no longer held herself back from feeling even ounce of her impending orgasm.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, her hips starting to gyrate against her hand.

“You. All I can think of is you,” Azriel moaned. He pumped himself quicker, his grip becoming harder.

“What about you,” he whispered in her ear. “Are you thinking about what you saw Cassian do to Nesta?”

Her toes curled at his words. “I’m thinking of what I saw them doing, but it’s you and me.”

“What are we doing, Gwyneth?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her tongue licked her lips before she bit down on them. “We’re in the library. You have me bent over one of the desks, and you’re taking me from behind. One of your arms is around me, and you’re flicking my clit as I scream your name. You’re so deep in me, Azriel, I can feel every inch of you as I clench around you. Cauldron, you feel so good. The best thing I’ve ever felt, Az.”

His breath hitched, and he felt himself on the brink of coming. What finally did him in was her teeth biting down on his shoulder as she screamed his name, her orgasm making her whole body shake as it overcame over.

When they had both come down from their highs, they laid trying to catch their breath, both their bodies covered in sweat.

“That was amazing,” she sighed, turning to face him.

He grabbed a corner of the unused blanket beneath them to wipe himself off, then turned to face her, an arm going around her waist and his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead and cheek.

He wanted to look at her body, finally relaxed and languid, but his shadows had another idea. They bathed over her like silk, dancing over her curves and crevices, making her laugh.

“I quite like them,” she said, her eyes starting to drift closed.

“Are you tired?”

“Mhmm.” She snuggled into him further, stealing his warmth. His cock responded to her touch, but it was too soon yet to do anything meaningful.

“Move up for a sec.”

“Is that you trying to hint that I should go?” Her voice was joking, but the look on her face said that she’d go if he wanted her too.

“Absolutely not, you’re staying here with me. I’m just grabbing the blanket.”

She moved away just long enough for him to pull the blankets over them and pull her to his chest again.

She made a content noise and closed her eyes to sleep, and Az thought to himself that he didn’t care if this one day ended their friendship, because it might very well be the best time of his life anyway.

***

The next two weeks were filled with them sneaking away and feverishly touching themselves in all sorts of ways. Once, Gwyn sat in his lap naked while they stroked themselves, kissing each other the entire time. Another time, she pleasured herself by grinding against his thigh and he palmed himself – they hadn’t even bothered to take their clothes off. A late-night training session had led to her using a particularly shaped massage tool on herself in very a scandalous way while he watched, near feral at the sight of her pumping into herself. He did not return that item to the training ring, instead he kept it in his bedside drawer for future use.

It wasn’t until sixteen days and countless orgasms into their agreement that Azriel was finally able to touch her.

It had been a busy night. Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor and Emerie were over for dinner, and it had been the most fun Az had had in a group since last solstice. At the table, he’d had Feyre on one side and Gwyn on the other, and her little secret touches to his thigh made him feel warm all over.

It wasn’t necessarily an arousing touch, just an affectionate one. When the group had started to disperse to drink, Nesta the sober adult taking care of Nyx, Az noticed Gwyn sneak away. He promptly followed her, making sure everyone was distracted as he did so no one noticed what they were doing.

Within a few minutes he was between her thighs tasting her. She had mentioned the night before that she wanted his tongue on her, and by the Cauldron was he happy to oblige. She was sitting on the edge of desk in the library that she’d described to him all those weeks ago, and whilst on his knees before her, he jerked himself off as she crumbled beneath his mouth.

Thankfully, by the time they returned, people were far too tipsy to question where they’d been.

Except for Nesta, who looked suspiciously between the two of them. Whatever she was thinking, it was at Gwyn’s behest if she knew anything. It was her decision, always, what happened between them, and if she wanted people to know about their sneakiness, that was for her to decide.

Seven days later is when she first touched him. Until that point it had all been about her, which is what Azriel wanted. They were on his bed, his fingers deep inside her as they kissed, when her hand brushed against his cock. He moved his hips aside, and she broke their kiss off with a noise of indignation.

“Stop swatting my hands away!” She flicked his nose with her finger.

“Huh?” He was still dazed on the sound of his hand gliding through her dripping wet core.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” Her voice was curt.

“I just want this to be about you. I don’t want you to think that I’m only with you for my own sexual gratification. The only thing that matters to me is your happiness, my soul purpose is you. You’re my priority.” He kissed her neck. “My desires are your desires.” Another kiss. “I can’t focus if you’re anything less than panting and satisfied.”

She pursed her lips, a familiar expression at this point. It turned into a joyful smile, and she smacked a kiss to his lips. “That was actually very sweet. After I get you off, I’m going to sit on your face.”

What was even better than the heavy petting and intense make out sessions was the talking. Sometimes for hours they would just tangle themselves together and divulge their life stories. Azriel knew all about her sister and mother – Gwyn confessing that she felt guilt when her twin wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, but sometimes she pushed her away because the memory of her was overwhelmingly devastating. Az wiped her tears away, desperate to see her smile again. But he also knew of all the good times she’d had growing up, and it made him feel alight inside to know how loved she was. Az told her mostly of Rhys and Cassian and the family they had made for themselves, about how it was so hard to be away from his mother, but he wouldn’t have survived another day in his father’s presence. Gwyn cried for him sometimes, and Azriel had never known such empathy from another.

When they were alone in the House, Nesta and Cassian off on one of their sexcations, Gwyn would spend her evenings and nights with him just as a friend, doing housework and menial tasks that she didn’t have to while humming various tunes. Az would tell her to stop working, but she would just grin and say she liked feeling like part of a home too much to not pretend that she lived there too. So he would just hum with her, his shadows dancing and swaying the way they always inevitably did around her. Then they would fall into bed together (or any surface really) until they were spent and exhausted.

Azriel had never known happiness like this.

***

Azriel was buzzing with excitement. He’d left Gwyn wrapped up in his bed, the sun not yet risen, and made sure to leave her some breakfast on his nightstand and the fire burning to keep her warm without his body next to hers. Usually he would wake her up early with his head between her thighs so she could go back to the library, but she had already told the acolytes she roomed with that she would be staying with Nesta, so no need to sneak around when no one was expecting her.

Before they’d gone to sleep the night before, Gwyn said something to him that left him smiling even now as he made his way to Rhys.

I want to have sex, Az. I’m sure. I know I’m safe with you.

Az didn’t know why Rhys needed him, but if it involved leaving Velaris, he would barter for a few more days so that he might be with Gwyn before he left. An odd feeling entered his chest at the thought. He couldn’t name the feeling; he just knew he didn’t want to leave Gwyn alone.

He landed on the doorstep of Feyre and Rhys’ home. Before he had the chance to let himself in, Feyre opened the door, a grave look on her face.

“Quick. Before they start yelling.” Feyre pinched her nose, the other hand holding Nyx on her hip.

Azriel pushed past her, and it wasn’t hard to find the source of Feyre’s frustration.

“Once again you fucking asshole, you need to back off. How dare you-”

“Nes, calm down-”

“Tell me to calm down again Cassian and I’m out of here. As I was saying, how fucking dare you accuse her of such things, Rhysand, High Lord of Shitting me up the Wall.”

“Nesta, for fuck’s sake you’re getting defensive for no reason!”

“No reason?!” she spat, Cassian holding her back before she lunged at Rhys.

“Too late,” Feyre muttered at him as she walked into the office, sitting at the desk to remain neutral in Nesta and Rhysand’s pissing match. Azriel would love to know what had riled them up so much that they were nearly screaming at each other, but any guidance from his brothers was not there.

“You have to admit that it’s suspicious, Nesta!”

Rhys threw his arm at Azriel as he approached, looking triumphant. “Azriel will agree with me.”

“He will not.”

“May I ask what I might need to agree to, or will it remain a mystery as to why you’re yelling so early in the morning?” Az crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for them to stop acting like children.

“Rhys accused Gwyn of being a spy,” Nesta growled.

“You’re twisting my words! I said I’d had reports of her acting strange, of her behaviour being completely different, and I suggested that it was worth looking into. We have to consider the safety of Velaris, and Gwyn would be the perfect plant.”

Azriel was sure Rhys was going to say more, but he was interrupted by Azriel’s uncontrollable fit of laughter. His laughs shook his whole body, and he felt tears in his eyes from how hard his fit was hitting him. He had to bend over to try and catch his breath, clutching at his chest as though his lungs might leap out of it.

“What’s so funny,” Rhys deadpanned.

Azriel shook his head and walked to Nesta, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Are you serious, Rhys? Gwyn? Gwyenth Berdara?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Both Clotho and Merrill have approached me. Clotho, because she was worried, and Merrill, because she thought that Gwyn was being insubordinate. Clotho has had multiple girls come to her in fear for Gwyn, saying she’s been disappearing at night and coming back early in the morning. They she’s tired, unfocused, and that she’s exceeding every expectation they had for her in training and acting like a different person in the library. This has all been reported over the last month.” Rhys picked Nyx out of Feyre’s arms to calm himself before continuing. “Gwyn knows incredibly sensitive information about us. She helped us with the Trove, she treats the House of Wind like she bloody lives there. She’s awfully comfortable for a person who previous to knowing us refused to leave the library.”

Any humour Azriel felt had been leeched from his body. Nesta’s verbal beating of Rhys had been justified and then some.

“With all due respect, you can go fuck yourself,” he bit at his brother.

Feyre made a noise in the back of her throat and took Nyx back from Rhys before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Too much swearing for such little ears! she said into their minds as she was leaving.

“What the fuck, Az?” Rhys looked startled.

“I knew he’d side with me,” Nesta said smugly.

“She’s ‘awfully comfortable?’ Yeah, she is, because she found a fucking family. Nesta is like a sister to her, and she’s over at the House a lot not because she’s entitled, but because we want her there. You might not make that much of an effort with Nesta’s friends because of your own personal shit, but Cassian and I consider her a close friend. Accusing her of anything unbecoming, to me, is as bad as if you’d dragged me in here to tell me Cassian was working against us. You sound ludicrous. Also, need I remind you, it’s not your fucking House anymore. Who we have over is none of your damned business.”

Rhys scoffed. “It’s not your House either.”

“Sorry, High Lord Rhysand, I’ll manage my expectations.” Az clenched his jaw at Rhys’ words. He was right. Azriel didn’t technically have any property, neither had Cassian until Rhys had given Nesta the House as a mating gift. Azriel didn’t technically have a home beyond the sky, nothing worth giving to or sharing with another person. Even now, Gwyn was waiting for him in a bedroom that technically wasn’t is. He wouldn’t dare leave though, not when he knew it was one of only two places that Gwyn felt safe in.

“Why are you getting so defensive? You know what I’m saying is reasonable.”

“It would be if we didn’t know her. She is… there are not words to describe her.”

“Yes, there is,” Nesta piqued. “She is competitive. She is feisty. She’s a Valkyrie. She is the kindest soul in Velaris. She is so brave, and strong, and the most selflessly loving person I’ve met in my entire life. If you weren’t so thick headed, you would see that she’s like Feyre in a lot of ways.” Nesta paused. She left Azriel’s side to stand in front of Rhys, her shoulders back and her head high. “If you accuse her of something it would break her heart. I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I would never hurt her, Nesta.” Rhys rubbed a hand over his face. “If you’re so convinced that nothing is going on, can you explain her strange behaviour.”

Nesta turned away from Rhys, so that he couldn’t see her face. When Nesta looked over at Azriel, she didn’t need to say a single word for him to know that she knew the exact reason Gwyn was acting different.

It was because of him.

“I don’t need to explain it because I trust her. I’m also with her nearly every minute of every day. Do you not think I would not notice if she was conniving against us? Or are you truly that foolish?”

“I agree with Nesta,” Cassian said. “She’s either with us training the Valkyries, or she’s working with Nesta in the library. Who cares if she’s a little distracted, we all are sometimes.”

“And you’re sure of this?” Rhys directed his question at Azriel, almost as if he couldn’t trust Cassian and Nesta to be impartial because of how close they were to Gwyn. Huh. If only he knew.

“I have never been surer of anything.”

***

“Azriel, wait.”

Azriel was stalking through the front gardens. He would walk until his head was clear, then he would go home – go to the House of Wind – and spend the morning with Gwyn. Nesta had other plans.

“What is it?”

“Gwyn-”

“-will be safe. I won’t let Rhys near her.”

“I’m not worried about that. What is going on between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not blind. All the things Rhys described? Sure, might be espionage, but it might also just be someone falling in love.”

“We’re not together.” Love? What a preposterous thought. Gwyn had been very clear from the beginning in what she wanted from him. She needed someone to fulfil her physical needs, and Azriel was happy to do so. All the other stuff, the talking and friendship, was just icing.

“Then what are you doing? Setting yourselves up to get hurt?”

“This is a conversation you should have with her.”

“She trusts you so much, Az. Please, don’t do anything that would hurt her. She’s come so far since we met.”

“Nesta, I promise you I couldn’t dream of hurting her. The thought alone makes me feel visceral pain. What we do, what we are, is just her making decisions and doing what she wants. How did you even know there was something going on?”

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I guessed she had a flirtation with someone. I knew it was you from the way she started saying your name.”

Azriel felt his eyes burn, but he did not know why. “The way she says my name?”

“I’ve heard the way she says it a million times. From Cassian and I. From Rhys and Feyre. I can’t describe it beyond that.”

Azriel shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted where he stood. “Have you told Cas?”

“I don’t need to, he knows.”

“So you guys have talked about it?”

“No. I haven’t told him that I know. But I know he knows. And he also knows I know.”

“So he knows you know even though you haven’t told him you know and you know he knows even though he hasn’t said he knows?”

“Exactly,” she laughed. Her smile was more genuine now. It was a look she’d only had since her mating ceremony. It sung contentment, something she, like him, struggled to have.

She came to him and linked their arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Her friendship was invaluable to him, as much as it was a surprise when it first started to form.

“I have one other thing to say, and then I’ll let you go home to Gwyn.”

“Yes, Nesta?”

“The House of Wind is as much as your home as it is mine. You can stay there forever if you want. It is your home, Azriel, and I wouldn’t dream of it being anything else.”

***

Gwyn was awake when Azriel returned home. She was humming a song to herself in bed, wrapped in his blankets like it was a cocoon. She had the breakfast he made for her in her lap, and when he entered the room, she pulled the blanket aside and opened her arms for him to fall into to.

Maybe he still looked stormy after his talk with Rhys, or maybe she just wanted to hold him. Either way, he fell happily into her embrace.

***

Gwyn had set a date. She did not intend to be so clinical about it, she just wanted to give herself a chance to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and she needed a few days to do so.

The month she’d had with Azriel had been… Cauldron, she did not know how to exactly describe it. When she had approached him, she honestly did not think that he would say yes to such a ridiculous idea. But he had, and he’d given her nothing short of the best month of her life. Her cheeks ached from how much she was smiling, and even if she was tired when she worked, she wouldn’t give up her restless nights for anything.

It would also be remiss for her to not acknowledge that perhaps what she had with him was more than an arranged bargain, but any time the thoughts propped up she promptly put them to the side.

She had not gone to see Az last night, needing the time to do extra work so that she could be missed for a day. Or two. Maybe even three.

Gwyn didn’t know how long this marathon might last, but if it were anything like Nesta and Cassian’s, it could be a while.

She had also warned Clotho and the females she shared her room with that she would be staying at the House of Wind for a few days. When asked why, she just said she was doing something with Emerie without going into any detail.

So, tonight it was. She was ready.

She was so fucking ready.

The moment dinner was served in the library she made a run for it, having to physically restrain herself from skipping out of the library. She was so excited, her body literally vibrating with energy, that she didn’t even see Nesta before their bodies slammed together.

They went to a ground in a tangled fumble, and Nesta was too busy laughing to listen to Gwyn’s repeated apologies. The brisk evening air greeted them, the stars starting to peek through the violet dusk as they laid on the path that took them from the library to the training area to the House.

“Well, you made looking for you much easier,” Nesta said, brushing off her dress as she stood. She offered Gwyn a hand, which she gladly took. Nesta started walking towards the House, their hands not dropping as they swung them between them like children.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Emerie is here with Mor and Feyre. I wanted you to join us for dinner.”

“I have dinner with you every night.”

“I know, but I wanted you to know that you’re not just welcome but also invited.”

Gwyn smiled at Nesta, love for her friend filling her heart.

They approached the House, Nesta’s face falling as they walked in and saw Rhys standing in the middle of the room, confused looks on the faces of Mor and Emerie as everyone just looked uncomfortable.

Nesta’s hands squeezed Gwyn’s, and for just a second it felt like Nesta was about to pull Gwyn right back to the library.

“I’m not sure what the problem is,” Mor said slowly. “We go out in Velaris all the time, why can’t we tonight?”

“You’re more than welcome to, I would just rather stay here,” Azriel replied.

Gwyn knew the look on his face. It was the same look he’d had a few days ago when he’d returned from Mother knows where after Rhys summoned him. Gwyn assumed Azriel had just had to do one of the many hard tasks expected of a spymaster, but perhaps there was something else if his face was a mirror of that again now.

“What’s going on?” asked Nesta.

They all turned to look at them like they were surprised to see them. Not even Azriel had noticed their entrance, although Gwyn self-admitted that Azriel tended to be surprised by her sudden appearances quite often. She didn’t know for sure, but she thought maybe his shadows didn’t bother warning him when she was near. It’s not like she was a danger to the guy.

“Rhys came and said we should try the new restaurant on the Rainbow! The one near Feyre’s studio? I’ve heard really nice things about it, and the family that opened it are really beautiful.” Mor beamed at them all, trying to disperse the odd tension. “And then maybe we could go dancing.”  

The idea sounded wonderful, and Gwyn wistfully wished she could join them. In reality, just the thought of going into the city set her heard racing. The only time she had ever left the library or the House, other than to go to Emerie’s house which landed them in the Bloodrite, was to officiate Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. Although the memory was one of her most treasured ones, it was not something she thought she would be able to do again. Not yet.

“I’ve heard great things about that place,” Nesta replied, her stomach audibly grumbling at just hearing about the exquisite food it might receive.

“You are all more than welcome to go.” Azriel swept a hand out between them. “But I don’t want to.”

His gaze flickered to Gwyn, and suddenly the eyes of everyone were on her.

A blanket of understanding washed over the room. Most eyes were understanding, Mor’s held the pity that Gwyn hated, and Rhys looked indifferent, if not satisfied.

Azriel’s resistance became evident. It wasn’t just that it was the night, their night, but he didn’t want her to be left alone whilst everyone else galivanted through the city having the time of their lives when they knew she wouldn’t be able to join them.

“I don’t want to go either. It’s been a long week and I’m tired,” said Nesta.

Gwyn narrowed her eyes at her lying sister but couldn’t hold it in her heart to be angry. In face, she had to stop it from swelling with how loving their words felt. They didn’t want her to be alone. They wanted to stay with her.

“You know,” spoke Emerie softly, “I can’t imagine anywhere making food as well as the House.”

Mor’s eyes shot to Emerie, and Gwyn wondered if she was imagining the slight betrayed look in them.

“Guy’s, c’mon. Rhys and I made a reservation, they’re expecting us! It would be rude not to go,” Mor pleaded.

Azriel opened his mouth to snap back, but Gwyn interrupted. “She’s right. You should go enjoy yourselves.”

“But Gwyn-”

“It’s okay, Nesta. Please, I really think you should all go.” She made a point to look at Azriel. “It sounds like it would be a lot of fun.”

“It’s not fair to arrange activities that we can’t all participate in.” Azriel’s voice had softened as he looked at her, and if she didn’t have better self-control she would stride over and plant a kiss on his pouting lips.

“How could Mor have known that Gwyn would be here? It’s not her fault,” Rhys interjected.

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard-”

“Stop, just stop.” Gwyn clutched her hands in front of her and stepped away from Nesta. She needed them to see her as an adult, as someone who was strong and to be taken seriously. “It’s fine. Really, truly. I have a lot to do anyway.” She turned to Feyre and waved her fingers at Nyx. “If you would like, I can take care of him so you can enjoy some grown-up time.”

For a second Feyre looked hopeful, but then she schooled her face into neutrality. Rhys stepped between the two, and Feyre had to put an arm on his shoulder.

As if to stop him stepping any further.

Gywn blinked, feeling like she should blanch away but not sure as to why.

“That won’t be necessary,” Rhys said. She’d heard him use that voice before. It was his political voice. His I-have-an-agenda voice. Now it was her turn to look confused.

“No worries,” Gwyn whispered.

She looked away from the High Lord’s searing gaze and back to her friends. She hoped her face didn’t speak of her sadness.

“Please go. I would feel awful if any of you stayed on my part. If anything, by going and having a great time you’d be doing me a favour, because I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You could always just come with us,” Mor said, tucking her hair behind her ears in a way that was comically similar to how the ‘popular’ girls in her smutty books would behave.

Gwyn bit her lip, thinking about it. Of course, logically, she would be safe. They would all be there, Azriel would be there, but she genuinely felt like she might vomit at the thought. A bead of sweat dripped down her back, and she despised how her eyes stung with tears. She breathed the way her and Nesta had learnt from Valkyrie texts and pulled herself back to reality. Sometimes the logic of actions did not dictate how you would feel, or react, to a situation. Gwyn reminded herself once more to be kinder to herself.

“Thank you for the offer, Mor, but I am happy here.” Gwyn smiled brightly at them all, and they seemed to relax – all but Az and her sisters.

She shooed them out of the House, hoping that one day she would be able to join them.

***

It was odd. Gwyn had spent much time over the last few years alone, but it had never affected her. And although the House was quite good company – it had dinner and dessert ready for her with a box of tissues and chocolates even before Cassian had finally flown off with the resistant Nesta – it wasn’t the same as spending time with someone who could talk back to you.

She only just made it through her meal when she crawled into Azriel’s bed, hoping the scent of him would make her feel better.

It didn’t, but the sight of his room did. There were unlit candles lining the room, and flowers adorning every surface. The cheeky male had even installed a mirror on the ceiling above the bed, and she blushed profusely at the implications.

He had tried to make it romantic, and she adored him for it.

She had no idea when he would be back, and she scolded herself for wishing it would be sooner rather than later. She wanted him to be out and about with his family, even if it made her burn with envy that everyone would be able to enjoy him but her.

She rolled over, stuffing her face into his pillow and groaning. She should take off her day clothes and resign herself to pyjamas. Maybe she should sleep in a different bedroom so as to not torture herself with what this night could have been.

Her night with Az. The night with Az.

“That’s it. I am so over this,” she said aloud before springing up. She stomped out of the room and towards Nesta’s, flinging her closet open to inspect her clothes.

It was just a restaurant. It was safe. She would be fine. Besides, how could she overcome her fears if not to face them? She had gone to Emerie’s and survived. She had gone to Nesta’s mating ceremony and survived. She had won the bloody Bloodrite!

As she looked through the dresses, she quickly realised they wouldn’t fit. They would hang loose at her hips and chest, where Nesta was beautifully endowed and she was not.

“Not to worry, I’ll just take a coat then.” Taking the first one she saw, light but soft enough that warmth wouldn’t be an issue, Gwyn shoved her shoes on approached the door that led to the ten thousand steps that would take her to Velaris. She didn’t know where to go from there, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she would be able to find her friends with enough willpower. And since meeting Nesta and Emerie, since being empowered by the strongest females she knew and since empowering herself, she knew she had that willpower in abundance.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

***

She didn’t know at what point the House had left her, its omnipresence not connected to the stairs, but she was doing just fine even if she felt its absence. She counted in her head to keep track of where she was.

One thousand. Feeling good. Coat in arms.

Two thousand. Out of breath but in a good way.

Three thousand. Fucking shit.

Four thousand. Maybe she should turn around.

Five thousand.

Six thousand. How has Nesta done this multiple times?

Seven thousand. She had this! This was easier than Ramiel!

Eight thousand. If she died here no one would find her.

Nine thousand.

Ten. Fucking. Thousand.

Gwyn realised that there was no way she’d be able to eat with them. They would be having dessert if they hadn’t already moved on. She just needed to find them.

As Gwyn took the last step, her toes touched the streets of Velaris for the very first time.

It was so beautiful she thought she might cry. There was colour everywhere, the laughter of adults and children alike, and she could smell delicious food as the many restaurant’s wide-open doors let the scents pour into the streets. The faelights lining the streets reminded her of the stars she often gazed at with Azriel, the thought of him like a caress to her mind.

Azriel loved Velaris, would die for this city if he had to. How could she been afraid of something he loved so much?

She took one step. Then one more. She was sure to anyone that glanced her way she must have looked like a lunatic, her eyes wide in wonder as she moved at a snail’s pace, Nesta’s coat bundled in her arms because after all those steps she didn’t need it.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, equal parts fear and excitement, as she walked through the city. She got a few odd looks, but she could see it was out of curiosity for a newcomer in a city that had been locked down for centuries, and not for violence. She wasn’t leered at or bothered. In fact, the only time someone even talked to her was when a toddler sprinted from his mother’s side, his legs too quick for his body to keep up, and he fell into her.

The mother apologised profusely but Gwyn didn’t care at all. How could she be mad at the pudgy little baby?

It was easy to find her way to a district clearly dedicated to all things food. If possible, she slowed down even more. She peeked inside every restaurant looking for the four sets of wings that would set her friends apart from everyone else.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of searching but was probably closer to forty minutes, she saw them.

Azriel and Rhys were standing outside the restaurant Mor must’ve been talking about. Light and music drifted from its open windows, the streets still full of roaming people. Gwyn knew they wouldn’t be able to see her yet, and she wondered how she should approach them.

Azriel… did not look happy, and the tense set of Rhys’ shoulders and back let her know that his face likely looked the same, even if he was facing away from her.

Before she could think of a strategy, Azriel looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

Gwyn could not describe the feeling that filled her as they drunk in one another. Still standing twenty steps from him, his gaze made her feel like she was wrapped in his arms.

She raised one hand in a wave, and it was like Rhys didn’t exist at all.

Azriel shoved him to the side, Rhys making an indignant sound as he did. He ran to her, and she dropped Nesta’s coat so she could wrap her arms around him as they crashed together. People in the streets backed off at Azriel’s display, and in that moment she couldn’t have cared less about where she was, as long as she was with him.

His wings wrapped around her, creating a shield between them and the outside world.

“Gwyn.”

“Hey Az,” she whispered, her arms around his neck and his face tucked to her shoulder.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He straightened and brushed the hair from her face. It had stuck to her skin from how much she had sweat while taking the stairs, but she didn’t care how she looked. She knew he certainly never would.

He looked ready to fight an invisible threat, and it made her throb in unspeakable places.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just – I. Um.” She hadn’t rehearsed what she would say to him, but it’s not like she could blurt out Hey! Just wanted to near you at all times and rub my body against yours!

“Did something happen? What do you need me to do?”

She shook her head. “No, no, Az, really, I’m fine. I just regretted not coming out with you all.”

He must have been able to see the honesty on her face and smile, because he relaxed, his wings folding back.

The look on his face was adorable as the realisation dawned on him that she was here for him.

“Did I miss everything? Are you all done?”

He didn’t answer, but he did look behind him. Rhys was standing there with his mouth open, his face laced with something Gwyn couldn’t put a name to. Before she could greet him, Rhys stormed back into the restaurant.

Azriel turned back to her, and he didn’t hesitate when he lifted her chin and kissed her.

She gasped but reciprocated zealously. She pushed her body into his, and his arms went around her as he lifted her off her feet, cradling him to her as he kissed her like she was the wind that let him embrace the skies. He tasted like air, like gold, like this was his final breath and he was he was sharing it with just her.

***

Azriel sat with Gwyn while the rest of their friends danced. She hid it well, but he could tell that she was nervous being in this new environment.

She had been so good, so brave when she went into the restaurant and greeted Azriel’s family. Nesta and Emerie jumped up when they saw her, and Nesta held her tightly while Emerie rushed to get another chair. Nesta was trying to be subtle, but Azriel saw the happy tears she shed as she held Gwyn. Emerie then insisted that Gwyn sit and eat her strawberry and mango cheesecake with her, which earned an inexplicable scowl from Mor. Interesting.

Once Gwyn was satisfied and protesting the consumption of more food, they all walked together to one of the classier bars Nesta used to frequent so they could go dancing. Everyone was light as a feather, except Rhys, but life was hard as a fucking asshole, so Az wasn’t surprised he was feeling surly.

And now here they were. Azriel and Gwyn seated with the others dancing to their hearts content. Mor was spinning around with a giggling Nyx, Feyre and Rhys were swaying but it was obvious they were speaking to each other through their daemati bond, and Emerie and Nesta were terrorising Cassian in a three-way dance.

“How are you feeling?” Azriel asked, his shadows silent to her moods. If it had been anyone else, he would have known she was coming to the restaurant before she’d even left the House. But his shadows didn’t like to spy on her and revelled in him being surprised by her.

“I feel good.” Her gaze was focused on the dance floor, and Azriel glanced over to see what was so entrancing.

Nesta and Cassian were finally dancing alone, Emerie now with Nyx and Mor. The way Cassian and Nesta were grinding on each other was nothing short of pornographic as they moved into the shadows of the dance floor. Nesta’s back was to Cassian, his hands clasped on her hips as his lips were on her neck as she pushed her ass back against him.

Azriel snorted. They’d be fucking in an alley within the next fifteen minutes.

“Do you want to dance like that, Gwyneth?”

She turned to him, a lovely flush spreading from her face to her chest. “No,” she said unconvincingly. She slid her chair closer to his, the bar stool so high she had to hop onto it to sit. It was frightfully cute, and Azriel had to restrain from kissing her again.

He couldn’t help it in the street. The sight of her – rumpled, breathless, her face alight with joy – was too much for him.

She was beginning to be too much for him.

The longer he was with her, the more of her he was allowed to have, the more he feared he could never go back to just a simple friendship. This female would either be his salvation or his ruination, either of which he would happily accept if it meant he could savour every minute he had left with her.

Under the table, she linked their hands, and Azriel thought he might very well die from the touch.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to enjoy our plans.” He rubbed his thumb against her finger.

She smiled his way, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “It’s okay.” She looked down, biting her lip. “I went to your room. I saw what you had done.”

He swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

She removed her hand from his and placed it on his thigh. “I loved it.”

He shifted in his seat, glad that the tablecloth was long enough so that anyone around, if they looked, would only see their ankles. “You’re playing with fire right now,” he chucked under his breath as she continued to stroke his thigh.

“I especially liked the mirror on the ceiling. May I ask, what purpose does it serve?” Her smile may have been all innocent, but the way her hand was moving was anything but.

She leant against him so they were touching shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

“It was for your pleasure.”

“Is that right?”

He brushed his lips to her ear, grateful that the dim lights of the bar kept them in the shadows and that the dancing bodies kept their scents hidden. And over the live music, no one would hear them. “Mhm. It was so that, no matter what position I put you in, you could watch me.”

She tipped her head back, humming in acknowledgement. Her hand, already in dangerous territory, swept down his increasingly hard length.

He grunted, laying both his hands on the table and fisting the cloth.

“Is this okay?” she asked, breathless.

He nodded, taking a swig of his drink to distract him.

She brushed her hand down again, bolder this time, and he squirmed in his chair.

“I would take it out, but I fear it would be seen over the table. So inside it stays,” she sighed. “It must be hard being so large.” She put her lips to his ear, mimicking what he had done to her. “I do love it though. The size, the taste, I think about it constantly.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he choked out. “But at least I’d die happy.”

Her hand slipped inside his pants, and he couldn’t help but thrust up into her hand. He tilted his head back in pleasure as she worked him, getting the angles just right as she pumped him. He was unbelievably aroused by the public act, barely able to believe that she’d do something so audacious. But Cauldron have mercy, he would do anything if it meant she was touching him. She could ask to ride him right now in the middle of this bar and he would blissfully indulge.

“I’m going to finish soon,” he warned her.

“I can’t wait for you to finish in me.”

Her words were his undoing, and he felt the edge of the table splinter under his grip as he contained his moan of pleasure.

He stared at her as she pulled her hand from him, offering him a serviette to clean himself like she hadn’t just given him a mind-blowing orgasm where anyone could have seen.

“Az?” she asked after a few, content minutes of silence.

“Yes, Gwyneth?”

“Do you think we could go dance?”

***

Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she had been this relentlessly happy. Azriel flew her and Emerie back to the House of Wind, the latter looking forlorn as they finally left the bar in the small hours of the morning.

Rhys and Feyre had left much earlier, Nyx too small to stay up that late, and if Gwyn was being honest she was surprised they lasted as long as they did. Feyre seemed fine, but Rhys was in a shocking mood. Every time she asked Azriel about it, he just muttered about Rhys being a jerk without elaborating. She could tell that whatever it was, it was sensitive, so she didn’t push him.

Her and Nesta put a very intoxicated Emerie to bed, stripping her and putting her into some pyjamas before tucking her in nice and tight with some herbs on her nightstand that would help her head in the morning. Azriel and Cassian had already gone to their respective bedrooms, and Gwyn contemplated how she was going to sneak into Azriel’s room when Nesta stopped her.

“Can we talk for a second?”

“Of course.”

Nesta led her to the library, and they plopped themselves onto one of the plush couches. Gwyn faced her as she sat, tucking her feet under Nesta’s thighs to keep them warm.

Two hot chocolates appeared to them on a table, a dish of marshmallows to the side. They whispered their thanks to the House, claiming the warm drinks. Gwyn pressed hers up against her face, liking the warmth on her skin.

“What do you want to talk about?” Gwyn asked, taking a sip.

“Azriel. You. You and Azriel.” Nesta patted her shin, and Gwyn put her drink down. This wasn’t a hot chocolate kind of conversation.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

“Do you love him, Gwyn? Because if you did, or even if you don’t, you don’t have to sneak around Cassian and I and pretend nothing is happening. You can live here, forever if you want. All four of us in the House.”

“Nesta-”

“Imagine if we both had our families and babies here. It’s a big place, we wouldn’t get in each other’s way. And maybe Emerie could come too and she could fall in love too and we’d all be so happy. Okay, I’m rambling and that was weird. What I’m trying to say is – is that you can Azriel are so obviously together and I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out why you’re keeping it a secret from us, not that I care that you have secrets you’re an adult and you don’t have to tell me everything, and I’m so fucking happy for you, Gwyn, and I want you to know that you can be publicly happy, if you want.”  

“Nesta…”

“I just love this. You and him. I’ve never seen Azriel so happy and you just smile all the time. And, oh, it reminds me of Cassian. In the way that I can see ourselves reflected in you two, and I wonder if maybe if I hadn’t been so,” she gestured at her head, “you know, then I could have just been this happy from the start of us, with him, like you two. So I need you to know that if you want that, if you want him, I am so incredibly supportive and I will do anything you want if it means you get your happily ever after. Okay, I’m done.”

“Nesta.”

“And I also would just love to know how this all began. Like the secret little smiles and observations that I’ve had for as long as I’ve known you just changed one day. And I know you guys used to train alone sometimes and I know you were always here with him, and me and Cas but I can’t pinpoint when your friendship turned into this.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I really am done now.”

“Are you sure?” Gwyn pinched her cheek lovingly, and Nesta swatted it away.

“Yes.”

Gwyn took a second to think about her words, and as nice and idyllic as they sounded, Gwyn wasn’t sure they were the truth.

“Nesta, we aren’t together.”

“What?”

“We have a…” Gwyn struggled to find the words. “Deal? Agreement?”

“A sexy agreement?”

Gwyn laughed. “No. Well, yes actually.” She launched into the story of how her and Azriel had started their bargain, detailing how Azriel had agreed to help her overcome her fear, and how much they practised towards her ultimate goal of sex. Gwyn also expressed how their closeness was something she treasured, as spending so much time together naturally led to a deepening in their friendship. Her face stained pink as she told her of some of the things they had done, but how, after over a month together, that hadn’t actually sealed the deal.

Nesta was silent the entire story, letting Gwyn speak her truth. She was contemplative over Gwyn’s words, not saying anything until she was done speaking.

“Before I say anything, I want to let you know how incredibly proud of you I am, and how much I support wanting to explore yourself and your sexuality. No matter what I say, I need you to know that.”

Well, that wasn’t a good start.

“I understand, Nesta.”

“Gwyn, do you love him?”

Gwyn took a deep breath. It was a topic she often pushed from her mind, unable or not wanting to broach the subject. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a yes or no, Gwyn.”

Gwyn shrugged her shoulders. “What if it’s a ‘I’m not sure because I so thoroughly blurred the lines between what was real and what I asked him to do to help me?’ What if it’s a ‘I don’t know if I could say it to him but if he said it to me, I would say it back in an instant?’”

“Do you know how he feels about you? Has he said anything?”

Gwyn shook her head. “I know we’re friends. I know he cares about me. I know he would do anything I asked of him. I know he must love me, in some way, but I don’t know if it’s love-love or platonic love.”

“And he’s never given any sort of indication of his intentions?”

Gwyn pondered how thoughtful he was, how detail oriented he was to her pleasure and how he was the best part of her day. And as she thought about it, about him, who was so caring and lovable and agreeable, and she realised that a lot of what he did for her – the comfort, the talking, the support – he would do for anyone.

“I’ve never asked.” Her breath shuddered, and Nesta put a hand to her cheek.

“Maybe you should.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do? What if I’m just an obligation?”

“Oh, my love.” Nesta repositioned them so that Gwyn was lying down, her head in Nesta’s lap, as Nesta lovingly stroked her hair. It reminded Gwyn so much of what Catrin used to do that she couldn’t help the tears that started to shed.

“It’s better to know what you are to him. If it’s any consolation, I think he cares about you a great deal. Maybe even loves you. It’s hard to tell when he’s naturally so cold.”

He wasn’t cold, she wanted to say, he was the warmest person she knew. Instead, she cried, and she let Nesta comfort her like she always did.

***

A few days passed, and although Gwyn never left the House, her sexual relations with Az didn’t progress. Rather, they stopped altogether. He didn’t mind at all, he was just glad for her company. They talked and trained, and Azriel was surprised that somehow he could be even more impressed of her than before.

She also started doing what he called her ‘casual kisses.’

They would be doing something monotonous, like sorting weapons for training the next day, and she could kiss him as she walked by him. Or they would be sitting in bed reading, and she would lean over and brush her lips to his temple.

It became a game, who could casually kiss the other first if the opportunity arose, and it was the best game Az had ever played.

He felt himself looking forward to the nights even if the only touching they did was cuddling until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Azriel wondered if this is what home felt like.

It was late, and Gwyn decided that she needed to return to the library before people started to question where she was. Az didn’t have the heart to tell her they already were.

“I had the most interesting conversation with Nesta the other day,” she said as they reached the door that would take her away.

“What about?”

Gwyn fiddled with her fingers, trepidation oozing from her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry starting to maw at him.

“I’m fine.” She turned to face him, and he took the opportunity to kiss her on her hairline. He loved the height different between them, it made him feel bigger than he was. “Nesta asked me about us. She has suspected for a while.”

He schooled his face into neutrality. As far as Gwyn knew, this was new information to him.

He hadn’t told her a word of what had happened between them and Rhys, and it would stay that way. All it would do was hurt her, and Azriel was serious when he said no harm would ever come her way from him. She did not need to know that Rhys was acting like a tool.

In more ways than one. Azriel didn’t need to read minds to know that Rhys was highly suspicious of them both. And more so, as much as it pained him to admit, how much Rhys disapproved. He wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t bear to ask, but he had a good idea. Rhys, as much as he loved Az, must know that he would never be good enough for Gwyn. The idea had plagued him for days, and the only thing that drove away the dark thoughts were the casual kisses Gwyn would bestow upon him.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked her, snapping back to their conversation.

She shrugged. “At first I was worried, but now I’m actually kind of relieved.”

“Why were you worried?”

“You know, it’s weird. I had it in my head that if people knew I was on this mission to achieve some ultimate, empowering orgasm that they might judge me. But Nesta never would, and I felt like an idiot as soon as she looked at me and told me she knew we were,” she gestured between them, “touching.”

Az snickered. “Touching is one way to sum it up.”

“She asked me something I couldn’t answer.”

“What was that?”

“She asked me what we are.” She brushed her hands over his chest absentmindedly. “What I am to you.”

He clasped her hands and held them to his heart, trying to make her look at him when she was purposefully focusing on the floor.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. That I don’t know what I am to you.”

“Gwyn…”

“I need to say something, and I beg you not to interrupt until I’m done.” She sniffled, and he hated the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away, facing him with steel. “I genuinely approached you with nothing but friendship in mind. I had a plan, to sleep with you once and then go back to how we always were before – me, as your overly competitive but absolute best student, and you as, as this God of a man that I could not believe even walked the same existence as me, let alone be someone I considered a friend. You were my ribbon Az. The thing I wanted to be as good as. And then you said yes to me. I didn’t expect you to. I half-thought you would laugh because you thought I was joking. But you didn’t, and you said yes, and I have made the grave mistake of developing feelings I swore to myself I wouldn’t.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she put a hand over his mouth before he could.

“I had every intention of having sex with you until Nesta asked me what I was to you. And then I realised that if all I was to you was a proposition to uphold, I couldn’t do it. I can’t be with you just once. I can’t be just friends if we take that last step. So, Az, I’m asking you, and please don’t feel obligated to say anything you don’t feel, but what am I to you?”

He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like his ribs were being ripped apart and then shoved back together until his lungs were caged too tightly. He knew what he wanted to say, that of course she was more than that, she was everything, but then he thought of her spirit being crushed by his inadequacies, and how she could do so much better now that she was ready to. She was pure, she was light, and she deserved more than his darkness.

He had been quiet too long.

Watching her was like watching a porcelain doll shatter after being dropped. Her face crumbled, and she pulled her hands away from him as she tried to contain herself.

“You’re my best friend.” He finally said, his own tears stinging at his eyes. “I can’t lose you.” Which he would, if she stayed with him and realised how truly broken he was.

A sob fractured her chest, and Az hated the way her voice sounded when she spoke. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And then they were kissing. It tasted like salt from their tears and was more passionate and heart-wrenching than any of the kisses they’d had before. They were drowning, their only hope at salvation one another as they clung to each other with all the strength they had.

Azriel didn’t want to let her go. He knew once he did that it would be over. His month of bliss, of final contentment, would be over. Part of him wished Nesta had never opened her mouth, or that he’d been able to tell the truth, but all of him wished that he was someone else, or that he was more like his brothers, so that he was good enough for her.

When they finally stopped kissing, it was not so she could leave. They still clung to each other, breathing in each other’s scents, well into the night.

When she whispered goodbye, part of his soul left with her as she walked away.

He lied to her by staying silent. He should have told her the truth, that what he was feeling went deeper than affection, maybe even deeper than love. But this lie protected her, and he would take it to his grave.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #3: If I Could Turn Back Time

Words:  ca. 2,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: no Content:  MCD (but with a good ending), mentions of a car crash, grief Image: Link Song: If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher

If I Could Turn Back Time

Dear Elsa,

At the time, I didn’t know.

I didn’t know about fate, or foolishness, or baffling stupidity disguised as invincibility.

All I knew was that I would do… anything for you.

And yeah, yeah — you were the older sister. You were supposed to be looking out for me; not the other way around. I know.

But you did. You did look out for me. You protected me. And still, this didn’t stop me from feeling like I needed to protect you, too.

I suppose… I suppose the difference is that I failed.

*

“Fuck this,” Anna dropped her pen and shoved the piece of paper into her bag.

She wasn’t ready to address this head-on. She might never be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Elsa,

I’m trying this again.

It’s been a while, so maybe I can … Well. Maybe I can get through it this time and say what I need to say.

One year ago —

*

“Goddammit,” Anna whispered as tears blurred the few words she had managed to write.

She let her head fall onto her arms, draped across her desk as familiar sobs ripped their way through her chest. They knew the route all too well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Elsa,

I’m sorry—

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elsa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, Els.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Elsa,

Please forgive me.

*

“God, fuck!” Anna snarled at the paper. How could her feelings still be betraying her? They were keeping her from reaching this one meager goal that might bring her some emotional relief.

“No.” She glared at the page. “We’re doing this.”

*

Dear Elsa,

It’s my fault that you’re gone.

I’ve known this from the very start, the moment you left. The thing that’s taken me longer to accept is that it’s also your fault. I don’t blame you for it, but I no longer place all the blame on myself. That’s just not healthy.

It’s also not healthy to live in the past, mentally stuck on that day when my life changed forever — yet I can never seem to stop going over and over those events in my head. All day, every day.

Maybe if I’d done something different, you’d still be here. I can’t help but imagine…

But there’s no use. What’s done is done, and we can’t go back.

No, actually, I think I need to stop being vague. If I’m ever going to — and you know how much I’m shuddering as I write this — heal from this trauma, I need to spell it all out.

It was one year ago. June. We were going to our first Pride. We had both been out for a while, but we were keeping our relationship a secret because — well, obviously. But we were excited for the parade, even you! I know you probably would have rather stayed home and snuggled while reading a book or watching a show, but you also did want to go. I know you did.

And it’s too bad, because we never got there. We’d been arguing about who should drive. I wanted to, but you insisted… and eventually I gave in. So, you drove us. Halfway there, a tree fell into the road right in front of us. I guess it was weakened from the previous night’s thunderstorm. We were way too close; you didn’t have time to react. The car drove right into it, as it was still settling from the fall. When everything got quiet and I regained my senses, I looked over at you and… well, there was a branch that came through the windshield that — uh, you weren’t okay.

It was a freak accident.

And if I just would’ve driven us — if you had just let me drive — we would’ve beaten that tree by minutes. I drive so much faster than you ever fucking did. Or, even if we still ran into the tree, at least I would’ve been in the driver’s seat instead of you.

But I can’t change anything.

So, now you’re gone. I’ve confronted it. And I still don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

Anna

*

Anna let out a sharp sigh as she signed her name and set her pen down.

She supposed it felt slightly relieving to write out what happened for the first time. But also, seeing those words on the page made it seem even more stupid than it already felt. How could something so simple and meaningless have taken Elsa away from her in an instant?

She would give anything in the world to turn back time and change the way things happened.

This was the only thought consuming her mind as she fell asleep on the desk, freckles smushing against the recently penned words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anna woke up with a start, wiping drool from her cheek and the bare wood of the vanity she’d fallen asleep on.

She blinked slowly, adjusting to the light. “What time is it?” she muttered to herself. She was turning around to find the clock on her nightstand when she heard a sound of movement down the hallway and froze.

Before she could decide what to do, a voice filled her ears that instantly dropped her jaw. “Anna? We should get going soon if we want a good spot…” The voice grew louder and trailed off when it reached the bedroom door. A soft knock. “Are your rainbows ready?”

Anna breathed for the first time in a minute and blinked away fast tears, wiping them with her hands. Her heart was racing. How could this — what happened?!

“Els—” her voice came out in a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Elsa?”

The door opened, revealing Elsa in all her glory: pale blonde hair falling over one shoulder, shirt with a rainbow across the chest, pale jeans jacket with various pride pins and buttons, black jeans with ripped holes all across the front of both legs. She had a sincere look on her very-alive face, full of concern as she noted Anna’s appearance. “Baby? You ok?”

“Um…” Anna swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared at Elsa. Just stared. At her sister, who she was in love with, who was dead. “I’m — yeah, I’m fine. Just lost track of time.” She tried to smile reassuringly.

She still wasn’t sure what the fuck had happened, how she woke up here with Elsa on the day of the accident. Maybe this was all a dream and soon Anna would wake back up, devastated. But, just in case this was some sort of weird miracle of a second chance… Anna was not going to waste it. She thought for a moment about what the best choice would be, but it didn’t take long to realize it.

Still, she hesitated.

Something told her that if she made this choice, there would be no going back to her original timeline, no matter what this might change. This moment was pivotal: the point of no return.

Elsa stepped closer, still extremely concerned. “Anna? Seriously, are you ok?”

Here goes nothing, she thought. “Actually,” Anna sighed. “I know we’ve both been looking forward to this, but… what if we stayed home? I don’t really feel like going out today.”

Anna looked down and the next thing she knew, Elsa’s arms were enveloping her for the first time in an entire year. She burst into tears. Elsa’s hold tightened, “Shh, of course. Hey, of course we can stay home. It’s okay,” she said, gently rocking Anna from side to side. She placed a hand against the back of Anna’s head, holding her in place. “Shh, it’s okay,” Elsa repeated softly.

Anna sobbed into her sister’s jean jacket — it smelled strongly of Elsa’s magnolia perfume — for a few more minutes before she thought she might be able to hold it together long enough to lean back and look at her. She finally sniffled and pulled slightly away, giving Elsa the signal to loosen her hold a little. “Yeah,” Anna said, breathlessly. “I think it is okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before Anna was walking into the living room, carrying an extra blanket and her water bottle. Elsa was already there, laying across the moss-green velvet couch. She looked like she had always belonged there, with her bright hair contrasting against the moody exposed-brick wall behind the couch. The plants scattering the room were vibrant, effortlessly matching the green upholstery, as if Anna hadn’t just spent an entire year neglecting them in her grief.

It was hard not to stare in amazement around this space she was supposed to recognize. It was hard not to be amazed by all of this life that had bounced back from death. Or, that had never died at all, it would seem.

There was natural light illuminating the space from one side, but it was aided by the string lights on the wall, a few strategic candles, and of course the smile that graced Elsa’s face when she saw Anna in the doorway. “Anna!” She smiled brightly. “Come here, I already made popcorn. We just have to pick what to watch.”

A warm buzzing sensation overcame Anna as she made her way to the couch and laid across it with Elsa. “Anything gay,” she replied, cuddling close into Elsa’s body.

“I knew you’d say that,” Elsa laughed, leaning forward to kiss the side of Anna’s head.

Anna leaned more firmly into her, closing her eyes to relish the feeling.

Suddenly, Anna was faced with the knowledge that she had been so shaken by the sudden situation, she hadn’t even gotten to kiss Elsa yet. Anna twisted herself around to face her on the couch.

Elsa seemed slightly surprised, either by her girlfriend’s sudden movement, or the intense look in her eyes. “Babe—? Oomph!”

Anna didn’t wait another moment before silencing Elsa’s lips with her own.

It was everything she’d been missing — she could feel every single day of Elsa’s absence in the shape of her lips and, simultaneously, they kissed like they hadn’t missed out a single day together. Anna supposed both statements were true for them in that moment. Only Elsa still didn’t know what Anna had just been through, even as she pulled Elsa closer and their lungs begged for air and Anna grasped at blonde roots with reverent fingers.

She needed more. She needed everything.

She needed to put off the conversation a little longer, and she knew exactly how she’d like to do that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An unknowable amount of time later, the two young women lay in their bed together, half covered with a lightweight bed sheet. Anna laid on her stomach, partly across Elsa, giving her access to absent-mindedly scratch her freckled back. As Elsa’s arm moved back and forth, slowly dragging gentle, trimmed nails across Anna’s back, Anna was busy planning what to say.

Eventually, she spoke in a soft voice, “Elsa, you trust me right?”

“Of course.” The backscratch continued without a hiccup.

“And if I said I was being serious, you’d believe whatever I said? Even if it sounds… wild?”

The nails paused for a moment. “That’s… concerning, but yes. Obviously, I’d believe anything from you.”

“Okay,” Anna murmured. “Okay… What about if I said I’ve lived this day before? And it went ….very differently?”

“What do you mean?” Elsa asked with concern.

“I mean,” Anna took one last deep breath. “I recently lived through a time when we left for the parade and we never made it there.”

The back scratch stopped.

“I don’t know how I came back — like here, today, now… but I lived for an entire year without you. We were in a car accident and you—,” Anna propped herself up partly with her arms to look Elsa in the face. “You didn’t make it, Els.”

The painful and confused look on Elsa’s face didn’t slow Anna down. She continued, “I lost you, and it was real. I was grieving, and I wasn’t very fucking good at it. I didn’t know how to live without you, for months and months, even earlier today! Today has been so… fucking weird. I fell asleep after I wrote a cathartic letter to you — dead you — and then I woke up here with you — alive you — backwards in time one year to the day everything changed.”

Elsa’s face had become almost expressionless after trying to express too many things at once. Mostly, she was shocked. “So… So, that’s why you didn’t want to go to Pride today?” She said slowly, putting together pieces in her head. “You needed us to avoid the accident that killed me the first time. And this is the first you’ve seen of me in an entire year?”

Anna nodded.

“And now… you just get to stay here? You fixed the thing that caused my death and now we both get to live happily ever after?”

“I told you everything I know,” Anna said. “I don’t know how I got back here, or why, but I have to assume I’m here to stay now.” She let herself lay back down onto Elsa, cuddling close. Her voice became slightly muffled, “It feels like I’ve been gifted this opportunity to get you back, and I’m more grateful than you could imagine… but I’m also terrified. I don’t know how I came back through time, so what if it yeets me right back and I lose you again? I don’t… I don’t think I could survive that another time,” she finished in a whisper.

Elsa rubbed reassuring circles on Anna’s back. “I’m not going to let that happen. Do you hear me?”

Anna made a pitiful, muffled noise.

“If we have to stay in this house forever in order to keep us both safe and together, we’ll figure it out. I’m not leaving you again, and I’m sure as hell not letting you go without a fight.” Elsa ran her fingers through Anna’s hair, causing her to finally look at her. Frightened green eyes met Elsa’s. “Do you understand, Anna? I will protect us.”

Anna closed her eyes, forcing her fear to retreat. Elsa was right. Nothing could tear them apart this time. She opened her eyes with a new determination and nodded her head. “I believe you.”

“Good,” Elsa said, pulling Anna closer. “Now, do you want more cuddles, or are you hungry? I guess it’s been a while since you’ve had my mean mac and cheese…”

Anna’s head perked up like a dog who’d just been asked if it wanted to go for a walk. “You would make me mac and cheese?”

Elsa couldn’t keep herself from smiling. “Of course.”

“Yes, please!” Anna said, while still holding tightly to Elsa’s torso. “You’ll have to do it with me attached, though. I am not letting go any time soon.”

[angelfishofthelord]

i am covered in skin

based on this cursed idea and thanks to @kellykline for asking and for the suggestions by @jackklinemybeloved.

set post-canon, post-s15 (one-shot, 5k)

Cas comes back from the Empty, and he’s fine, in a papier-mâché  version of the word. He’s fine in that he’s there with them, alive, voice speaking their names, body wrapped in their arms, smiles being passed around like party entrées.

He’s fine. But he’s also not. There are a million little creases in him, none of them are large enough to pinpoint, to point a finger at, to diagnose. So Sam and Dean don’t say anything. Not even to each other. They exchange glances from time to time, wondering if the other has also noticed the way Cas holds himself differently; the way he lingers at the dinner table after the dishes are cleared; his hesitation before crossing any door’s thresh hold.

His silence.

Cas was never an effusive conversationalist, Dean reasons to himself, but his quietness was never as deliberate as it is now.

Whenever Sam or Dean or Jack talk to him he’ll answer, but outside of that Cas doesn’t initiate any conversations, the way he used to with Sam about some translation particularity, or with Jack about his latest tv shows, or with Dean about how he needs to start eating healthier.

"Are you sure he’s okay,” Sam finally asks his brother one night while putting the dishes away.

“Yeah, he just needs time to adjust.” Dean throws the wet towel aside and dries his hands on his pants. “I mean, he’s basically back from a personalized angel-version of Hell. We needed a lot of time when we came from Hell, too.”

“True, but--” Sam reaches over to snag the errant towel “--it helped when we actually talked about what happened. When we didn’t, it just made things worse.”

“We did try--we both tried-- to talk to him when he first came back..”

“Maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about it then,” Sam persists. “Maybe he is now.“

“You’re welcome to try, Sammy, but I don’t think he’ll just open up to you like that. Not unless someone makes him.”

+

Later, when a witch forces Cas to reveal the truth, Sam has to admit Dean was right.

It’s nothing as outright as a spell or truth potion or possessing spirit. It starts off innocuous enough, or as innocuous as getting burned by the last blast of the witch’s exploding powers is. Cas jumped in front of Jack to take the brunt of the force, and the force of the blast left him unconscious and in the Bunker’s infirmary being tended to by all three of them. Jack worked to heal the blistering the burns on his face while Dean cut off the charred remains of his pants legs.

It’s when Sam is rolling up the coat sleeve to check for more burns that he sees it. “Dean?” he frowns, tracing his thumb over the white-ish blue lines under Cas' skin. "What is this, is it writing?" 

Dean leans over to look. "It looks like numbers? That's a three for sure, and that--" he points to the last marking "is a four."

Jack crowds his head in catch a glimpse, too. “Let me--” he presses two fingers to the spot and the ghostly tendrils only brighten. Four numbers appear sharply against Cas' pallid skin. "It feels like his grace, but it's not a wound, it's like..." he wrinkles his nose. "A scar."

“She damaged his grace? I’ve never heard of witches being able to do that.” Sam is already on his feet, phone in hand. “I’m going to call Rowena and check some books. Make sure to tell me if anything happens when he wakes up.”

Dean stares at the digits seared onto his friend’s skin and feels sick with fury

+

When Cas wakes up, however, he dismisses all their concerns and waves away the half-prepared spell that Sam is working on.  “It’s not from the witch,” he sighs. In one fluid motion he rolls down his sleeve and swings his legs over the side of the bed like he’s ready to bolt.

“We don’t know that,” Sam reminds him. “This spell should reveal the intention of any cursed marking so we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Just sit still, Cas,” Dean holds out a hand. “We’re going to figure out what she did and get rid of it, okay?”

Cas sighs again, louder, irritably. “It’s not from her. It’s from the Empty.”

Sam pauses mid-snapping sticks of dried rhubarb. The roll of gauze falls out of Dean’s hand with a soft thunk.

“The Empty?” Sam repeats, incredulous.

“And you’ve had that all this time?” Dean makes a weak attempt to keep the anger out of his voice. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Jack reaches out again, gold sparks hanging off his fingertips like tinsel. “Maybe I can read it to see if there’s any--”

Cas recoils faster than they can blink and moves rapidly towards the door like he’s been chased by hounds. “I said it’s harmless. Don’t worry about it.”

+

All Sam and Dean and Jack do for the next week is worry about it.

They wisely don’t say anything else to Cas about it, but they keep researching and asking every supernatural ally in their contacts list for hints as to what it might be. “Why would the Empty--he didn’t have that the first time he came back from there,” Dean says one night while he and Sam are searching through a stack of books. They’ve set up base in his room, instead of the library where Cas might figure out what they’re doing. “Do you think it tagged him or something? So it can pull him back?”

keep reading

[runawaymarbles]

7, 15, and 18 for the ask meme?

Weird Writing Ask Meme

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

It's hard to narrow it down, but one of my favorite parts-- that's a genuine pure favorite and never makes me want to bang my head against a wall-- is when I find unexpected ways to bring things I'm interested in together. When I realize that a weirdly niche rabbit hole I went down a few years ago could suddenly be plot relevant, or some analogy lines up to something else I'm doing. (Getting to bring Caravaggio's Artichoke Toss into a GO fic or when I was binging Myths and Legends's Arthuria episodes and realizing it worked perfectly with an x-men fic I was struggling with, etc.)

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

It depends on the book. I don't dog-ear pages, and I don't write in hardbacks, but I've been known to underline paperbacks. I will read hardbacks in the bath if they're not too long. If I saw someone writing in an old book or a fist edition or something I might have a moment of "aaaahhh!" but I don't hold mass market books as inherently precious

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

“Our traditional design ties together the partners’ initials with the blue line of Life and the deer of Death... For where Life goes, Death always follows; and where Death goes, Life continues. Theirs is the most profound of bonds, and one we try to emulate with each marriage.”

(From The Mixtape, Or: Six Things You Learn in Thursday School)

I spent a lot of time revising the bits of "scripture" in this fic, because I was trying to walk the line between what I could imagine someone treating as sacred text-- looking for meanings, lessons, comfort, etc-- and what would be funny for the reader who knows the actual plot of Supernatural. (Especially for those reading it during the pandemic: I still think that the Council of Nicea equivalent being the "Teleconference of Lawrence" is funny. That's also why settlements are called "pods" in this fic.)

Originally, this passage was explaining how Castiel was the Angel of Death-- the joke being that he doesn't cause people to die, but that he is in the more literal sense Dean's angel. But I figured he'd need a job or purpose to be of ritual significance. And since one of his main functions in the canonical narrative was to angel ex machina Sam and Dean out of trouble and/or back to life and be a celestial badaid, the Life/healing connection seemed natural-- but I also didn't want to make it seem like he and Death were at odds, each racing to see who got to someone first. So instead they're following each other around (as they did in canon) in the ciiiiiiircle of life. Of course, something that's overlooked by the characters who came up with the wedding rituals is that if they're constantly following each other they are never actually connecting (as they didn't in canon.) .....I'm now realizing that I could have worked in a joke about Schroedinger's box: the only place Life and Death can successfully stop and rest. Alas. I tried to keep the Angel of Death as one of Life's alternate names but between the conflation of Dean/Death/Hell/Heaven/Purgatory and Cas/Life and merging John-Chuck and Sam-Jack another name was going to make me lose track of what's going on, much less the poor suckers reading this.

Anyway it's all very Deep and Symbolic except that they think Dean's impala is a literal deer, they've forgotten what neckties are, and they used the phrase "profound bond" in conversation. Also the irony that Dean and Cas's frankly deranged, unstable, and occasionally toxic friendship rife with communication issues has been warped in the historical record as something that should be emulated in a stable marriage.

This whole fic was really an exercise in what jokes I could imagine a specific priest I know saying with gravitas and full sincerity.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 28: Slow Burn

Celestial | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10,585 Main Tags/Warnings: slow burn, emotional affair, happy ending Summary: Dean is in a less than stellar marriage, but he assumes things will work themselves out. At the same time, Mr. Castiel Novak becomes his new co-worker at school and Dean has to rethink everything he thought he had figured out.

Profound Kisses | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,729 Main Tags/Warnings: destiel, smut, destiel kisses, clueless!Castiel, canonverse, post Purgatory season 8, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, mutual pining. Summary: Dean knows he's screwed. He discovers he is in love with Castiel in Purgatory, and now he can't even have the angel in front of him, because he knows it's a one sided love. It’s Valentine's day and Dean tries very hard to hook up as always, but he can't get Cas out of his mind. So he drives back to the motel, drunk, and he finds Castiel trying to help him. Then, when Dean asks Castiel for some experimental kisses and the angel accepts, Dean starts a very dangerous game… finding in Castiel's kisses the most delicious experiences, but also, his own perdition. Will Castiel fall in love with him? Or will he stay emotionless as always?

How to Raise a Mandrake | @SoraJonsei

Rating: Mature Word Count: 24,814 Main Tags/Warnings: Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Magical Castiel, Non-Human Dean Winchester, Fluff, Humor, Romantic, Fluff, Alternate Universe, Prankster Gabriel, Universe - Fantasy, Slow Build, Happy Ending Summary: What else was Castiel to do when he woke up one morning to a very naked man in his backyard?

Crimes Of Passion | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 32,396 Main Tags/Warnings: Cop!Dean, Artist!Castiel, Angst With A Happy Ending, Drug Addict Castiel, Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean, Slow Build Summary: Cas is a street artist from the wrong side of the tracks. He sees his world pretty clearly through his art... that is until officer Dean Winchester comes along and turns his drug induced world upside down.

The Hanged Man | @ellis-park

Rating: Mature Word Count: 87,602 Main Tags/Warnings: Slow burn, mystery, friends to lovers, graphic depictions of violence, child abuse Summary: After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

Felix Mori | @deans-jiggly-pudding 

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 90,967 Main Tags/Warnings: Horny hospice, tech support!Cas, stripper!Dean, voice kink, power bottom Dean Winchester, slow burn Summary: Dean is living the dream: he gets to help people and shake his ass, and he gets paid for it. Gabriel Milton’s horny hospice is a fun place to work, but sees its fair share of technical difficulties. When the front desk computer malfunctions, the burden to call tech support falls on Dean. The man on the other end has a voice that does things to him, and if he’s lucky, IT man Cas just might feel the same way. The only thing that’s missing is his estranged brother. Dean wouldn’t have had to lie to him if it wasn’t for their deadbeat father, more obsessed with a life of crime than raising his own children. Even worse than the thought of never hearing from Sam again is the possibility of growing into someone who even vaguely resembles John Winchester, and that is a chance Dean simply cannot take. Come to think of it, maybe Dean’s dream life could use some healing after all.

The Moonlight Rule | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 129,362 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern Setting AU, Marriage of Convenience, Ranch, Slow Build, Home Invasion, Friends to Lovers, Trauma, Angst and Fluff Summary: After the sudden passing of Henry Winchester, Castiel learns that the late Mr. Winchester made last minute changes in his will: Dean will only inherit the family ranch he’s been running, if he marries Castiel and stays married for at least six months.

The Angel | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 155,684 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Temporary Character Death, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Fantasy AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Dean, Suicidal Ideation, Blood and Violence, Knight Dean, Fallen Angel Castiel, Scholar Sam Summary: They called him the Angel. Castiel never wanted to be a hero. He never asked to be a legend. He never considered himself a saviour. However, in his efforts to make up for his past after leaving Heaven, he became all three. They called them heroes. Growing up in the idyllic village of Lawrence, Dean dreamed of becoming a knight. In his nineteenth year, Dean journeyed to the Capital to earn his fortune. Sam, with his prized book of herbal knowledge clutched against his chest, traveled alongside Dean to become a man of his own. The Winchesters' drive and ambition lead them to the castle and into history as prominent figures in the Long War. Reality proved to be far more difficult than dreams.

Hot, blue and righteous | @Mistofstars

Rating: Mature Word Count: 168,016 Main Tags/Warnings: Romance, FluffHurt/Comfort, Drama, Domestic Violence, Sadness, HAPPY ENDING PROMISED, terrible attempts of humor, Domesticity, mentions of Castiel / Aaron (original side character), mentions of Lisa Braeden / Dean Winchester, Castiel is a judge, Dean is a cop, Alternate Universe, nothing supernatural here, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Previous death of side characters, feel good story, Sappy Summary: On the night of Sam’s graduation ball, Dean meets a guy called Castiel, and their insane chemistry instantly sets the air on fire, ending in a one-night-stand. However, it remains a one-off, and life continues. Three years pass, in which Dean meets Lisa and Castiel meets Aaron. After Lisa’s sudden death, Dean takes some time off from his work as a police officer and travels across the states to deal with his grief of losing Lisa. After Dean returns to his normal life again, he visits Bobby, staying with him for a few weeks. One night, Bobby gets an emergency call, and a beaten-up Castiel seeks shelter in Bobby’s house, far away from his abusive boyfriend Aaron. Both Castiel and Dean are certain they can never fall in love again after what had happened to them – but as soon as you start making plans, life happens.

So It Goes | @raiseyourpinky

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 236,469 Main Tags/Warnings: Friends to lovers, roommates, domestic fluff, Dean and Castiel are parents, mutual pining, depression, anxiety, top!Castiel/bottom!Dean Summary: Dean Winchester has finally bought his white picket fence dream house for his girlfriend Lisa and their son Ben. On top of living in the perfect neighborhood, they now have the best neighbors, the Novaks. Castiel and Amelia Novak are awaiting their first baby, Claire. They’re in love and are not afraid to show it. When their new neighbors move in next door, they become practically family. It feels as though nothing could ruin the ultimate domestic bliss Dean and Castiel have achieved. Until it all goes to hell. Then the two of them will be the only ones left to pick up all of the broken pieces and keep each other moving forward. Dean and Castiel soon realize that the only thing stronger than tragedy and pain is the love that they have for each other.

[rainbow-shine]

i'll never wear your broken crown, but in this twilight our choices seal our fate

An alternative s4 in where Dean has powers and that changes everything and nothing. Dedicated to @wormstacheangel and inspired by this headcanon.

It started with little things.

So little that Sam wouldn't have noticed them had it not been for the fact that he couldn't help but look at his brother like a hawk lately, partly to comfort himself that he had Dean back and partly to make sure his brother wouldn't find out about his extracurricular activities.

Dean doesn’t gets hurt anymore.

Sam felt his heart stop inside his chest when he entered the kitchen at Bobby's house and found Victor's ghost with his hand embedded in Dean's chest. With a swift movement Sam fired, the ghost disappeared and Dean fell to the ground.

Completely unharmed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked either way. Dean gave him an unimpressed look before saying no.

The thing was, Sam had seen Olivia's corpse, had seen the corpses of the rest of the hunters. Right now Dean should be bleeding to death on the floor, his heart ripped from his chest, but instead he was just catching his breath like he'd just taken a good hit.

Sam, at that time, thought it was a fluke.

But it kept happening.

They had a dangerous job and the threat of the apocalypse only made the monsters worse, but Dean was always unharmed. Not a single mark stained his body and the times something or someone managed to hurt him, those wounds always disappeared in less than a day.

"You test him, right?" Sam whispered to Bobby, as soon as Dean went to buy something for dinner and Sam stayed with the excuse of researching something on a new book.

"Who?"

"Dean," Sam clarified. “After he was resurrected”.

"Of course I test him, Sam," Bobby hissed. “Do you think I'm stupid?”

"No, it's just…" Sam stopped speaking, realizing that his arguments at the moment would sound more like conspiracies. The fact that Dean was apparently untouchable wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"What?" Bobby asked sharply.

"Nothing," Sam replied, quickly coming up with an excuse. “It's just that I feel like there's something different about him”.

"Sam, your brother just came back from hell. Literal hell,” Bobby exclaimed slightly condescending. “His mind is trying to process a trauma that, as far as I know, no one has ever experienced. You can't expect him to be the same as before, because he won't be”.

"I know, Bobby."

"Then stop complaining".

So Sam stopped. After all, Dean was still Dean and the fact that nothing could hurt him was just one more reason for Sam to do everything he could so that nothing that could reach him.

•●•

The first time Dean went to sleep after being rescued from hell, in the uncomfortable but familiar couch in Bobby's house, he dreamed of a light.

A light so bright that he felt it might be able to melt his eyes out of his sockets, but at the same time it was warming a part of him that always seemed to be cold.

A light that was comforting and gentle. A light that meant love and salvation.

That night, in an abandoned barn in Illinois, Dean knew that he hadn't been dreaming at all.

•●•

When he was a kid and dad decided to start taking Dean on hunts, Sam used to kneel by his bedside and pray that god would keep his brother safe.

After Jess appeared nailed to the ceiling and their apartment was consumed by flames, Sam began to pray for forgiveness.

The day Dean was dragged to hell Sam stopped praying, because he knew that no one was listening to him.

But then Dean was saved. Dean was saved by an angel and Sam felt his faith restored. How he couldn’t have faith when an angel had achieved what he had been trying to do for months?

But apparently Sam Winchester couldn't have good things, because again his faith was destroyed and the angels, as Dean had said, were nothing more than dicks with wings.

The boy with the demon blood.

The curse Azazel left on him and the only chance they had to truly stop Lilith.

There was fear in Dean's eyes.

And that hurt so much more than anything the angels could have told him.

His powers were a curse, but he had stopped Samhain thanks to them. They may not have saved the seal, but an entire city was beginning their day with nothing to worry about thanks to them.

Sam was doing the right thing. He truly was.

It didn't matter that no one seemed to agree with him.

•●•

"Let me guess, you're here for the ‘I told you so’" Dean said, turning on the bench to look at the angel sitting next to him.

“No”.

“Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested”.

"I am not here to judge you, Dean." The angel's voice was surprisingly gentle and Dean tried to ignore the way the light from his halo suddenly looked alluring. Dean hadn't told anyone, not even Sam, what he could see.

Because Dean still wasn't entirely convinced that he hadn't gone crazy.

Big black wings curved slightly around both of them as they chatted and Dean, for a moment, stopped seeing Castiel, the righteous angel of the lord and only saw Cas, someone who looked as lost as Dean felt.

"I don't envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean," Cas whispered. “I truly don’t”.

Then Cas leaned into him and Dean felt his mind short circuit for a second, because the angel clearly seemed to want a kiss. But no, Cas stopped an inch from touching his lips, simply watching him simultaneously with the blue eyes of his vessel and with the hundreds of curious eyes of his true form.

“What…?” Dean's question was interrupted by something coming from Cas' lips and colliding with his. Dean instinctively parted his lips and allowed Cas to give him whatever he wanted.

It wasn't liquid, but it wasn't a gas either. It was tasteless and Dean didn't feel it pass down his throat or vanish in his mouth. His heart raced and he felt… safe. Blessed.

As soon as it started it was over and by the time Dean managed to control his heartbeat, Cas had vanished and no one seemed to have witnessed what had happened.

•●•

Ruby didn't like Dean.

For many reasons, some more obvious or justifiable than others. But for the sake of the role Sam had to play, Ruby forced herself to cooperate with the older of the Winchesters.

But this was too much.

The mere presence of Dean made her feel like there were cockroaches crawling all over her body. His soul had taken on a new glow and Ruby didn't want to know what kind of things Dean was doing with his angel to have that kind of purity.

"I think there's something wrong with Dean," Sam confessed and Ruby could feel the fear making his voice shake or maybe the shaking came from the blood that was still running down her arm.

"What are you talking about?" Ruby asked sweetly, almost genuinely concerned. If it were up to her Dean would still be rotting in hell, but Sam was on his way of doing a miracle and Ruby felt that someone like that deserved all the happiness and satisfaction in the world. Even if it meant having to put up with Dean Winchester.

"He looks different," Sam said. "I think the angels are doing something to him. My brother would never have..."

"What?" Ruby prompted. "Would never have risked his life for an angel?"

"Well, no".

Ruby had a sudden epiphany that they weren't talking about Ana.

"Maybe the angels are… purifying him," Ruby suggested. "I mean, you know what he did when he was in hell".

The idea of ​​Dean, brave and kind Dean, torturing souls in hell and enjoying it was too funny to be true.

"It's something more than that".

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know!"

Ruby thought that they had already wasted a lot of time talking about Dean, so she decided to silence Sam with a deep and dirty kiss, climbing onto his lap and thinking that heaven could purify Dean as much as they wanted, because she would see to it that Sam was more powerful than they could ever imagine.

•●•

The angels had taken his brother and Sam swore he was going to kill them as soon as he found them.

Wasn't it enough that they were manipulating and corrupting him, they also had to make him relive what happened in hell?

Dean had protected him from many things. Dean, his older brother, had taken it upon himself to give him a childhood that he never allowed himself to have. Dean had been in the front row of his school play. Dean had made him tomato rice soup whenever he got sick. Dean had put a wad of money and a cell phone in his bag when he had left for Stanford.

Dean had sold his soul to save him.

So now it was Sam's turn to save his older brother.

•●•

"For what it's worth," Cas murmured against his lips. Dean was shuddering with what could be fear or perhaps anticipation. "I would give anything not to have you do this".

•●•

Sam had killed Alistair and Dean was furious.

Hundreds of emotions were piling up in his mind and he wasn't able to understand how his brother could be so stupid to not see that his powers were changing him for the worse. Dean could feel that something was wrong with Sam and his little brother didn't seem to mind.

"I did it to save you!" Sam insisted, throwing his hands up as if Dean was going to lunge at him despite still being slightly dizzy from the hospital drugs. "I only used my powers to protect you when the angels couldn't!"

"Cas did the best he could."

"Really?" There was a note of hysteria in Sam's voice. "Are you going to defend him?"

"Sam..."

"He forced you to torture Alistair despite knowing what you did in hell!"

"He had no other choice!"

"He's using you!"

"But at least he has never lied to me!"

The lightbulb in the room exploded.

Both brothers froze and Dean could see that Sam was breathing heavily and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Sammy?"

"I'm going to get some air," was all Sam said before he practically ran out of the room.

Leaving Dean wondering if things between them would one day stop being so broken.

•●•

Dean's eyes glowed blue.

Angelic blue.

Sam had to save his brother before it was too late.

•●•

The first time Dean healed him, Sam felt like something inside him was burning.

It had been a hunt like any other. No seals threatening to break, no angels or demons. Just the two of them against an angry ghost, just like old times.

Except the ghost was really angry and by the time Dean managed to burn their bones, Sam had been thrown into several graves and several trees and he was sure the back of his head was bleeding.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running up to him and gently laying him on the ground, with his head in his lap, examining the severity of the injury. Sam felt like a little kid again, feeling safe next to his big brother.

For a moment, there was no apocalypse or arguments. Just the warmth of his brother's body and gentle fingers running through his hair.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam managed to say. "You know how much head injuries bleed. It's less serious than it seems".

"I know, Sammy".

And then Sam felt the soft strokes on his hair turn into flames and a gasp escaped from his throat. The pain lasted only a second and by the time Sam regained awareness of his surroundings, none of his injuries were still hurting.

"What did you do to me?" Sam hissed, pulling away from Dean and standing up quickly and nearly falling back to the ground from the wave of nausea that washed over him.

"I… I don't know." Dean looked as terrified as Sam felt. "I just wanted to make you feel better".

Dean wasn't normal anymore. Whatever the angels had done or were doing to him was changing his brother.

And Sam no longer knew if he could save him.

•●•

"What's happening to me, Cas?" Dean asked. Trying to convince himself that his little brother was safe and that even though Lilith had escaped, she at least hadn't made any deals with Sam.

"You're changing," was Cas' soft reply. "A metamorphosis, a revelation".

"Am I not human anymore?" Dean asked with his voice showing the terror he really felt.

"You're always going to be human, Dean," Cas reassured him. "Every saint, every messiah, was as human as you".

"I don't deserve this, Cas," Dean gasped, closing his eyes to avoid seeing Castiel, his wings and halo, his eyes and his light. He wasn’t worthy of witnessing the greatness of an angel, not this angel at least.

"Do you still think you don't deserve to be saved?" Cas whispered and Dean trembled slightly as he felt a warm hand gently touch his chin, forcing him to look up and open his eyes. Cas was looking at him so adoringly that Dean felt like he was going to combust in any minute. "Do you think you don't deserve to be loved?"

This is love? Dean almost asked, but instead he connected his lips to those of the angel in front of him and tried to ignore the way in which, for the first time since he had been dragged to hell, he felt pure.

•●•

Castiel couldn't keep doing this.

Heaven had lied to them. Castiel had delusionally believed that he was keeping Dean safe, that he was rendering him immune to demons, healing his wounds and protecting him from all danger.

When in reality Castiel had only been poisoning him.

Shame mingled with guilt within his grace. His wings were flapping as fast as they could, pulling him towards Dean. Trying to warn him about what heaven was planning. Trying to save him from the hell Castiel had condemned him to.

The angels found him first.

Castiel felt how his wings were imprisoned and how his entire being seemed to be consumed by the most absolute pain.

"Take him to Naomi," ordered one of his superiors. "Fix him as soon as possible".

The last thing Castiel felt was the bond he had begun to form with Dean being brutally ripped apart.

•●•

No demon could touch him and surprisingly that wasn't the strangest revelation Dean had that day.

No, the fact that the demon that tried to touch him in Jimmy Novak's house let out a scream of pain as he held onto his burned hand paled in comparison to everything else:

Seeing Sam, his baby brother, throw himself on a demon to drink her blood, broke his heart in a way that Dean couldn't even begin explain.

After that, seeing how Cas looked like his wings had been passed through a shredder while his true form's eyes seemed dull and unfocused only served to make his wounded heart surrender completely.

Dean was practically invincible, but right now, with the broken pieces of his heart trying to stick together, he felt more fragile than any glass.

•●•

Bobby wasn't having a good day.

No, that wasn't good enough, Bobby wasn't having a good life.

But this day was particularly bad.

No matter how much he wanted to ignore them, Bobby could still hear Sam's delirious screams. And to think that the boy who had entered his house years ago, hiding behind his older brother and observing everything with big eyes full of curiosity, was now going through a detoxification process for having consumed demon blood, was something that Bobby could hardly tolerate.

The fact that Dean was a mess didn't help much either.

Dean appeared to be a shadow, drowning in alcohol and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bobby wondered if there was something wrong with him too, for on more than one occasion the lights around him seemed to flicker and his eyes seemed to emit a strange light.

What had these two idjits gotten themselves into now?

•●•

Dean didn't know what else to do anymore.

"She's poison, Sam," Dean said, praying his brother saw reason. Sam just gave him a wry smile.

"What about Castiel?" Sam hissed and Dean instinctively took a step back. "Is he poison too, Dean?"

They had both lied to each other and here were the consequences.

"Cas is an angel," Dean replied. "He's just protecting me".

"What makes you different from me?" Sam asked. "Tell me, why are you allowed to be a freak and I'm not?"

"Sam that's not how things are..."

"Of course they are!" Sam yelled. "All my life I have been the freak of our family, I never fit in with you and dad, and I was ready to accept that I'm different from you, but it turns out that you are the same freak as me!"

"It's different and you know it, Sam," Dean tried to argue. "Cas never made me drink his blood, he never made me promises too good to be true, and he never made me addicted to anything".

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding exactly like the scared little kid who had believed that the monster under his bed was real. Dean felt his heart ache. "Why if we are both freaks I have to be the monster?"

"It's not too late, Sam," Dean pleaded. "We can still stop this. No angels and no demons, just you and me. Like before".

"I… I can't do that, Dean," Sam denied.

"Of course you can," Dean insisted, moving slowly toward Sam. "Say goodbye to Ruby, return with me to Bobby's house and we will find a way to end it all. I just want you to be okay, Sammy".

Sam's skin began to burn the moment Dean placed his hand on his arm.

No.

"Sammy?" Dean didn't recognize his own voice, he felt like his body had ceased to be his. A witness of his worst nightmares. A tear ran down his cheek. "Sammy, please".

The blow hurt less than the implications of what just happened.

•●•

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

The place where Dean's hand had touched it still hurt. A reminder of what he had sacrificed for the greater good. A mockery of what he had lost by trying to be a hero.

But he couldn't stop, not now that he was so close to ending it all. Not when it was only a matter of hours before Lilith tried to break the final seal.

Ruby's presence was a comfort with the same intensity as a punishment, because Dean hadn't trusted him the way she did, but still Sam wanted the presence of his older brother.

That part of him that had believed for years that his older brother was a superhero right now wanted to run up to his brother and beg for forgiveness.

But Sam was no longer a child and his brother had made a decision.

It was time for Sam to made his, too.

•●•

The angels had kidnapped him. There was no other way to describe what they had done to him, but Dean had made a promise and he planned to keep it. So he stayed there and listened to what the angels told him.

But the moment Zacharias leaned toward him, his movements clinical and expressionless in a way Cas' had never been, Dean couldn't resist the urge to seal his lips, lower his gaze, and take several steps back.

"Dean," Zacharias sighed, as if Dean was a little kid who didn't want to eat his vegetables.

"No," Dean refused and before he could regret it he added. "I want Castiel to do it".

The expression on Cas' face was heartbroken.

"Very well," Zacharias agreed, before ordering Cas to come over to him.

With Cas' lips so close to his and with the warmth of what he now knew was grace enveloping his body, Dean wondered if Sam had been right and Cas had been poisoning him too.

Perhaps both of them had poisoned each other.

"You're almost ready," Zacharias marveled when Cas broke away from him. "Everything will go according to plan".

Dean wasn't so sure about that anymore.

•●•

"Sam," Ruby said, her dark eyes showing a panic Sam never remembered seeing. "Time is running out, are you going to do it or not?"

With Dean's voice telling him that he was a monster echoing in his head, Sam knew he really had no other choice.

•●•

"You know what's real?" Dean asked and didn't wait for an answer before grabbing the lapels of Cas' trenchcoat and slamming his lips against his.

Cas seemed to freeze for a moment before reciprocating the kiss with intensity. His black wings curved around both of them and Dean felt the heat of his halo brushing against his hair. Invisible hands caressed his skin and hundreds of eyes watched him adoringly.

"This is real," Dean gasped as they parted. "This, us, people, families— that's real. You're gonna watch them all burn, Cas?"

"What would you have me do, Dean?" Cas whispered. His wings trembling slightly.

"Get me to Sam," Dean said. "We can stop this before it's too late".

"I do that, we will all be hunted," Cas replied. "We'll all be killed".

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it" was all Dean could say.

Dean barely had time to react before he was being pushed into one of the walls and kissed desperately. Dean raised his hands to tangle them in Cas' hair and parted his lips the moment he felt Cas' tongue touch his lower lip.

His body accepted Cas' grace with ease.

"We have to find Sam, we have to stop him from killing Lilith," Cas told him when they parted.

"Why?" Dean asked, feeling a little dizzy. "Lilith is going to break the final seal".

"Lilith is the final seal," Cas said. "She dies; the end begins".

•●•

Sam had never felt a power like this.

It was all about to end and he could finally have the life he deserved. His nightmare would end and everything Azazel had planned would be in vain. Sam would use the powers that hell had given him for good. He would use the demon blood that ran through his veins to prevent the apocalypse.

And maybe, when things finally ended, Sam could apologize to Dean and all of this would be nothing more than a bad memory.

Lilith was smiling and Sam was eager to erase that smile once and for all.

Finally, everything was about to end.

•●•

Castiel was committing treason.

He didn't even think twice before vanishing Zacharias and carrying Dean as quickly as his wings allowed him to the house of the prophet of the lord. It was the only chance they had to find Sam and stop the apocalypse before it started.

"You guys aren't supposed to be there," said the prophet, frowning. "You're not in this story".

"Yeah, well..." Castiel said. "We're making it up as we go".

Castiel then took a moment to look at Dean, his soul shining as bright as the sun and cradling his grace as if he never wanted to be without it. Castiel felt a wave of affection for the human he had rescued from hell, for the man who had kissed his lips like a lover.

He sensed the archangel's presence long before he appeared and Castiel knew that they had run out of time.

Regardless of whether the prophet was watching them, Castiel pulled Dean to share a heavy kiss. A kiss of regret for lost time. A goodbye kiss.

"I'll hold him off!" Castiel gasped against Dean's lips, allowing most of his grace to flow to him. If Castiel couldn't protect him, at least he would make sure his grace did. "I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!"

Dean connected their lips one last time.

"Good luck".

In the end, Dean had been right. This was something worth dying for.

•●•

He had been too late.

•●•

"I was the best of all those sons of bitches!" Ruby yelled, a maniacal smile curving her lips. "The most loyal!"

Sam had stopped listening to her, just staring in horror at what he had done.

This is not how things are supposed to be. This shouldn't have been the end of this. He had made a stupid mistake, he had been arrogant and he had been naive. Sam had only wanted to protect the world; he had only wanted to take some of the burden off his brother's shoulders.

Sam, for once in his life, had just wanted to do something right.

"You're too late," Ruby scoffed and Sam felt like he might start crying when he saw his big brother.

"I don't care," Dean hissed and Sam could only watch paralyzed as Dean placed his hand on Ruby's forehead and she started screaming, her eyes on fire and the demonic essence of her fading.

"I'm sorry," Sam sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Dean".

Dean couldn't even look him in the eye.

"We have to get out of here," was all Dean said. "Let's go, Sam".

"Dean," Sam gasped. "He's coming".

Dean ignored him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit.

For the first time in months, Dean's touch was no longer uncomfortable.

•●•

The apocalypse had begun.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Screw It, I Love You

Title: Screw It, I Love You

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: G 

Tags: Just a lot of fluff! 

Summary: This is based of this post I saw the other day, find it HERE. It’s about Cas being newly human and Dean leaving him reminder notes all over the bunker.

Also, thanks as always to @thebridgekid for reading this <3<3<3

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Cas woke up around noon, still tired as hell and still not completely healed, but definitely better then the previous day's. Being human always took a beating on him, especially right after losing his grace, but he knew eventually he would adjust and be able to hunt with Sam and Dean again. 

     The brother’s had left early that morning to take down a vamp nest in a nearby town. He knew they wouldn't be back till late, and there was the possibility they wouldn't even come home until tomorrow, so Cas had taken the opportunity to sleep in. But now he decided it was time to get up and not waste the entire day. So he forced his still exhausted body to get out of bed and venture out into the bunker. 

     He was just about to open his door when a little yellow piece of paper caught his attention. He took the sticky note off the door and read it aloud, "Cas, you're human now, so don't forget to eat. Dean."

     His stomach took that moment to growl furiously, "I guess I am a little hungry. I don't know how humans maintain their bodies if they are this hungry all the time."

     He tucked the little note into his pajama pants pocket and made his way into the kitchen. As he walked the hall’s of the bunker he noticed more and more how hungry he actually was, but in the same instant hoped that there was something in the kitchen that he was actually able to make. He was certainly no chef, he could barely make eggs without nearly burning the kitchen down, so hopefully Sam had some cereal left in the cupboard or something easy. Otherwise he wasn't too sure what he was going to eat. 

     He made the last turn into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. On the counter there was a small pile of clothes and another yellow note. He walked over and read the note, "Hey, Cas, don't forget that humans get cold. I grabbed you a sweater and some socks, stay warm, Dean."

     Cas couldn't help but smile to himself, Dean was right again. Now that he was out of the warmth of his bed, his arms and toes were getting cold. So he put on the socks and sweater and walked over to the fridge. 

     "Another note," he smiled and took it off the fridge door, "I sort of figured you'd sleep past breakfast, and I know how much you suck at using the stove, so I made you some lunch. It's in the fridge. Just some PB&J sandwiches, I know how much you like them and I know it's simple, but it's definitely better than scorched eggs and bacon. I also made you some pasta and garlic bread for dinner if I'm not back. Just put it in the microwave for two minutes. Dean."

     Cas tucked that note into his pocket with the others and grabbed one of the wrapped up sandwiches from the fridge then sat down. With the first bite he moaned, he loved PB&J sandwiches so much, and he was so glad that Dean had been so kind as to prepare him food for the day. He would not have been happy with any of the burnt food he would have ended up with had he cooked himself. 

     He spent a little bit extra time eating the sandwich, savouring it as much as he could, before he was finally finished and now found himself with nothing to do. He tossed his wrapper in the garbage, stood there for a minute, then sighed and slowly wandered through the bunker. 

     He had been in this situation before, him staying behind while the brothers went on a hunt without him, and every time he hated it. He hated being alone in the bunker with nothing to do, and to top it off both Dean and Sam had taken their laptop’s with him to prevent him from attempting to do anything other than relaxing. As he recalled, Dean's exact words on the matter had been, "No work, no searching for cases, nothing related to hunting, period, while we're gone. You just sit back, relax, and focus on getting your strength back." And so now here he was, bored, with nothing to do and no one to talk to. 

     He considered for a brief moment calling Dean to see how the hunt was going, but quickly decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally distract Dean mid hunt and have him end up injured or even possibly worse, especially now considering he couldn't heal him if something happened. So instead he kept wandering. 

     He eventually wandered through the map room, ended up in the library, considered for a moment reading a book but decided he wasn't in the mood to focus that hard right now, and was about to head back to his room with the thought of going back to bed when he saw another yellow note on the wall. 

     He walked over to it and grabbed it from the wall and all this one said was, "Cas," with an arrow pointing to the right. He followed it, finding yet another note with the same message, and another, and another, until he found himself in front of Dean's hidden little man cave at the back of the bunker. The note on the door this time said, "Come on in, Cas, and look on the tv."

     "If you say so, Dean," and he walked in. There was another note on the tv right where the last note had said it would be, so he read that one, "I knew you would end up wandering around, bored with nothing to do. So I cued up a new Netflix series for you to watch, there's also beer in the mini fridge, and snacks for you in the cupboard above it. When I get back, maybe we could have a movie night? Haven't had one in a while. Dean."

     "I would love that, Dean, now you just need to hurry home." He added that note to his collection and walked over to the cupboard. Inside there was a bowl with all of Cas's favourite snacks, he then grabbed a couple beers, and walked over to the couch. He placed the snacks and beer on the table, grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. 

     "The Walking Dead," he read the title and the description of the show, "why are all the shows about monsters? We deal with this everyday and now it's all over tv. But if Dean likes it, then it must be good."

     He hit play on the first episode and then started digging through the bags of snacks in the bowl, trying to decide which one to open first, when he found another note. "Enjoy the snacks, Cas, but don't eat them all at once or you won't wanna eat dinner later, and you have to eat dinner. Humans need more than just candy and sweets all day, so make sure you save some room for that pasta. Also, don't forget at some point to shower, humans have to shower. Dean."

     Cas stared at the note for a second before he added it to his pocket. He then grabbed the bag of mini Twix bars and tossed one into his mouth. The man on the tv who had been shot in the beginning of the episode, Officer Rick if he remembered correctly, was just waking up from his coma, so he decided he'd watch another episode or two after this then he would shower as Dean had reminded him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Six episode’s, one shower, a bowl of pasta, and three bags of candy later and Cas was starting to feel tired again. He tried to wait up a little bit in hopes that Sam and Dean might come back tonight, but it was nearing midnight now and he assumed that they had decided to find a motel for the night. He would call them in the morning to make sure. 

     The episode he was watching was almost over, so he decided to wait for it to finish before he turned the tv off, but his newly human body had other plans. He felt himself slowly tipping to the side, falling, his eyes closing, and he ended up landing his head on the throw pillow. But a little crinkle on the side of his face woke him up enough to sit up and grab the sticky note that was now stuck to his face. 

     "Hey, Cas, I knew you would try waiting up for us and falling asleep halfway through your Netflix binge. But since we're not home yet go to bed, Cas, don't sleep on the couch all night, alright. See you when I get home, Dean."

     He chuckled lightly, still almost half asleep, but the thoughtfulness of Dean, leaving all those notes for him all day to make sure he was ok on his own, reminding him to eat and drink and rest, Cas couldn't help but blush. Not to mention he suddenly felt much warmer then he had all day. 

     He tucked that note into his pocket as he stretched on the couch, then forced himself to get up and shuffled to his room. 

     Even though he had been in there this morning and already found the note on the door, he couldn't help but find himself looking for one last note from Dean. Maybe there had been one he didn't see before he went to the kitchen for food, or a hidden note for him to find before he went to bed for the night. But after spending ten minutes searching the room, he was disappointed that he didn't find any more notes. But he pushed the disappointment aside, shucked everything but his boxers, and crawled into bed. 

     Where he was exhausted not too long ago he now found himself tossing and turning. He was wide awake and could not see sleep in his near future whatsoever. And after a few more minutes of restlessly trying to relax enough to sleep, he realized exactly why he was suddenly so unsettled. It was Dean. 

     As an angel, Cas didn't need to sleep, but now that he was human apparently it was necessary. And since he first became human a few days ago, this had been his first time without Dean, his first night going to bed without having spoken to the hunter, or even just as much as passing him by in the bunker. And his smell… it was comforting to Cas, Dean's scent always calmed him, even as an angel. But here in his own room, in his own bed, he had nothing of Dean to bring him that calm. 

     He grunted in frustration as he was still not able to relax, violently tossed the blankets off of him, and stormed towards the door, "As Dean would say, 'screw this!'"

     He threw his bedroom door open and marched down the hallway in nothing but his boxers, then barged his way into Dean's room. Dean's scent instantly hit his nose and he could already feel himself relaxing. And without even so much as a second thought he walked over and got into Dean's bed. 

     He pulled the blankets over him and snuggled into the pillow. Dean, it was all Dean, it all smelled like Dean, it was comfort and home. God, he missed Dean. 

     He laid there for a while, eyes closed just taking deep breaths, though he had no intention of sleeping there. He couldn't imagine Dean would be too happy when he came home from the hunt tomorrow morning and found Cas passed out in his bed. But he figured he could stay there for a little bit longer before he went back to his own bed. So he rolled over onto his stomach and stretched out on the bed, his arm finding its way under the pillows, and his fingers hit something. He grabbed it and pulled it out, finding a full sized piece of paper. He was about to put it back, sure that it was something personal to Dean if he had hidden it there, but in the dim glow of Dean's digital clock on the bedside table, he saw his name at the top. 

     He quickly turned on Dean's lamp and sat up to read the new note, and it would be an understatement to say he was only a little excited about it. "Cas, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here or not, I was hoping you would. And I know you'll probably think you have to go back to your own room, but you don't, you can stay if you want, you don't have to leave. So just lay back, relax, and go to sleep, okay. I'll come wake you up in the morning when I get back from the hunt. Good night, Cas, I…"

     Cas squinted at the bottom of the paper, Dean had written something but scribbled it out completely. Then it looked like Dean tried again, "I… Cas…" Then more scribbles, and more, until he was at the bottom of the page. 

     Cas wanted to know what he had written, what he had wanted to say that he was too scared to. Maybe he could tell if he turned it over…

     "There's more," he whispered to himself then read the rest.

     "Screw it. I love you, Cas. I hope you see this side of the note before you go to sleep, and I can't wait to get home so I can tell you that in person. Sweet dreams, Cas."

     He was stunned, speechless, his brain had even turned off. Dean loved him, and now that was going to be all Cas could think about. His heart was fluttering, he was anxious with anticipation, and all he wanted was for Dean to be home already so he could say it back. How was Cas supposed to sleep now?!

     But eventually he did sleep, with thoughts of Dean's confession on his mind and clutching the note close to his chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     "Man, I don't know why we couldn't have just grabbed a room at one of the many motels we passed on the way here," Sam complained as they grabbed their bags from the back of the car, "I'm exhausted."

     Well, that was a lie, Sam did know why. He also knew why Dean was practically running through the garage and down the stairs, "Dude, where’s the fire. Slow down."

     "I'm just tired too, wanna head right to bed."

     "You don't want to stay up for a beer?" He asked, though he knew the answer, he just wanted to see what Dean would say, "Celebrate taking down that nest?"

     "Nah, I'm just gunna go to bed, I'm beat, see ya in the morning."

     "Yeah, see ya," Sam waved him off and watched with a smirk as Dean practically ran through the bunker towards the rooms. He knew Dean wasn't as tired as he was trying to make it out to be, he had seen Dean running around the morning before, placing notes around the bunker and setting things up for Cas all day. He also knew about the little confession note that Dean had left in his bedroom in hopes that Cas would find. 

     He had caught Dean writing it just before they left, and was able to catch a sneak peek over his shoulder without Dean noticing he was there. Sam also knew that Cas had most definitely already found that note, where he knew Dean wasn't sure if he would. But it was no news to Sam that if Cas was in fact in Dean's room, it would not have been the first time he caught Cas sneaking in there to grab a sweater or blanket of Dean's to take to his own room. He was just glad that these two were finally going to get over themselves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Dean was just standing, frozen, outside his bedroom door. He was nervous, to say the least. There was no guarantee that Cas would be in there, or that he had seen the note he hid. He was just running off of hope that he had been right in thinking that his missing clothes and blankets had been taken by the ex angel, that maybe he had been taking them for a reason, and that his confession would be taken the way he was hoping it would. 

     He looked down the hallway towards Cas's room, but the door was closed. All he could do was hope that his little hunches were right, and that when he opened this door he would find Cas on the other side. 

     Slowly, he reached his hand out and turned the handle. He was holding his breath, his whole body felt numb, and when he peeked his head in his heart went into overdrive. Cas was in fact there, asleep in his bed, the blankets resting low on his hips showing off his toned back. 

     Dean tried to pull himself together a little bit, to calm down so he didn't wake Cas. He was still recovering from losing his grace and needed as much rest as he could get. So he quietly slipped inside and closed the door as softly as he could. 

     He placed his bag at the bottom of the bed, all the while keeping his eyes on Cas, worried that if he woke him he'd spook and leave in a panic. But thankfully he was still sound asleep. So he removed his shirts and pants and almost in slow motion, he crawled into the other side of the bed beside Cas. 

     He didn't touch him or get too close once he was under the covers with him. Dean was thrilled that everything he had thought and hoped for, was currently laying right across from him in his bed. So he decided to just soak it in for a few minutes, to just lay there and adore Cas, just stare at him for as long as he could before he could feel sleep starting to take over. 

     Just before he closed his eyes, he ran the back of his hand over Cas's slightly stubbled cheek, then he laid back against his pillow. Then suddenly Cas shifted beside him and moved until he was practically right on top of Dean. He tucked his head under Dean's chin, tangled their legs together, and snuggled as close as he could get. 

     Dean just smiled, as happy as he had ever been in that moment, and wrapped his arms around Cas. They laid like that for a minute before Cas moved his hand from where it was rested on Dean's chest, and a second later, he brought it back up and stuck the entire pile of sticky notes he had collected all day to Dean's forehead. Dean chuckled, shaking Cas on his chest who also laughed. Then he brought his hand up again and placed the confession note over Dean’s heart where his hand had just been resting. 

     Dean grabbed all the notes and placed them on the bedside table, then opened the drawer to reach in and grab the pad of sticky notes and wrote out another one. He laughed as he peeled the note off the pad and moved his hand between them to stick it over Cas’s heart. Cas tucked his chin down to read the note upside down and smiled from ear to ear, “Property of Dean Winchester.”

     “At least I hope,” he said, laying his hand over Cas's where it still rested over his heart.

     "I love you too, Dean," Cas spoke into Dean's neck, drawing mindless circles over Dean's heart. 

     Dean moved his hand over to Cas's chin and lifted his face up to his. "I'm glad you found my note, I wasn't sure if you'd come in here."

     "I missed you," Cas admitted, "the pillows and blankets smell like you."

     "I missed you too, Cas, a lot. I did everything I could so that I could make it back here tonight so we could be together." He rubbed his thumb over Cas's bottom lip, then asked in an almost whisper, "Can I…"

     Cas nodded, his nose rubbing against Dean's as he did, and Dean leaned in closing the gap. He touched his lips to Cas's and kissed him softly, sucking lightly on his bottom lip. It was slow, and gentle, and perfect, filled with years of love between them and Dean couldn't think of anything better than this. He had never been happier. 

     When they finally pulled apart, Dean pulled Cas against his chest again, tucking him perfectly against his body as he was before, running his fingers up and down his back. Then he started thinking, as he was staring up at the ceiling, with Cas finally in his arms, and as usual his brain started running wild. He suddenly became nervous and began shifting under Cas. 

     Cas felt it, knew Dean well enough by now to know exactly what was going on, so he just rubbed his hand over his bare chest. It might have been easy enough to write it down on paper, but Cas knew Dean would struggle with actually saying it out loud. But eventually, with the soothing motion of Cas's hand on his chest, he managed to get it out. 

     "I… I love you, Cas, I really love you, so much."

     Dean leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cas's forehead and he smiled, tucked himself tighter under Dean's chin, "I love you too, Dean, and I'm glad you came back tonight."

     "Me too," he kissed him again, then wiggled to settle back into the bed and closed his eyes, "good night, Cas."

     "Good night, Dean."

End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope y’all liked that cute little fluff fest XD 

[mittensmorgul]

This is random sorry so you can ignore but, me out here mcThinking about how in beginning of s15 Sam shot cas on accident. And cas’ grace was failing, and they just :,) never did anything with that. Oh that coulda be so fun the drama of it all

Hi hi! I’m gonna start this out with a bit of a tangent to what I’m currently watching-- 10.18, Book of the Damned. Because this was the episode where Metatron taunts Cas with humanity, basically. “Don’t you miss this?” meaning the purely human enjoyment of food in this specific case, but Metatron opens it up more broadly--

Metatron: Oh em me. Food, glorious food. All the countless descriptions in so many books, but those were just words. The taste, I mean the actual taste -- I had no idea. And the process, comes in here, and comes out here. Sorcery. I mean you used to be human, don't you miss all this?

Castiel: No. I don't miss digestion, I don't miss indigestion.

Metatron: No-no not that. I mean don't you miss the feeling of all this; the taste of these waffles, the sound of a child's laughter. Look at us, we're a couple of angels who have touched not only the divine, but the mundane. You and I have a lot in common.

He was framing it under the same banner that Lucifer once did-- the “we have so much in common, we should be friends,” or at least allies. Except Cas couldn’t make that choice, because this entire mission was about getting his original grace back so he wouldn’t keep dying from the toxic stolen grace he felt he had no other choice but to take back. Cas DID canonically miss these human things, but he didn’t think they were an option for him, because he felt a duty to save the things he loved, and couldn’t do that without being an angel.

But we know that even his original grace was never the full grace that he’d originally lost. He was never back at full power again, and this plagued him for the rest of canon, being unable to bring several people back from the dead, most especially Mary in s14. If he could’ve, he would’ve, but his angelic powers were not enough to spare anyone he loved.

But the sacrifice of his entire self was enough to save Jack, which made everything else possible.

I digress, though, because we’ve followed this “I want to live!” from Cas since 9.06, and the unanswered question of “but as what, an angel or a man?” And his repeatedly choosing angel because he needed to be prepared, needed to be ready to fight, to do what nobody else could to save the people he’d chosen as his family, his loved ones. But it was never framed as what he would CHOOSE for himself if he was sure that the universe was finally free from cosmic meddling.

But back to your original question... They did carry this thread for a good bit of s15. 15.06, and his speech to the stunned djinn-sheriff shooting him in the chest several times as he closed on him and killed him, combined with the difficulty he had healing the boy’s sprained ankle (not even a terribly serious injury, but it took it out of Cas and left him visibly exhausted). At which point he knew he had to get back in the game, and couldn’t just indulge the fantasy of fishing, you know? And how much have we collectively written about THAT as a metaphor for humanity, of peaceful relaxation, since 4.20 and Dean’s dream that Cas entered?

So once more unto the breach for Cas, because the people he couldn’t help but love needed him. Like the narrative was saying he couldn’t have BOTH of these things at the same time... like it’s been saying about Dean and Sam both for years... literally since the pilot episode. They could never have the balance, because Chuck wouldn’t allow it. He’d keep forcing this choice on them to sacrifice themselves and their actual wants over and over again.

In addition to that, since 14.08 he’s had the additional anvil hanging over him of his deal with the empty. He literally COULD NOT choose his own happiness, because the moment he did the Empty would claim him. He’s known since making that deal that he’d effectively sacrificed any potential for his own happiness (and unbeknownst to him, also sacrificed any potential for DEAN’s happiness, because these idiots just have not allowed themselves to believe they might actually feel exactly the same way about each other all along), and was living ENTIRELY for duty. Considering the Empty is the world’s most painful depression metaphor, this... we truly expected this entire scenario to be resolved clearly in the finale. And for Cas to make one final stand against the blackness that had swallowed him up after his moment of True Happiness at admitting who he loves and what he wants, and thinking he could never have it.

So like... yeah, this would’ve been the logical through-course for this entire thread, if the finale had just not... done... whatever it was it did instead.

[shirtlesssammy]

15x19: Inherit the Earth

We’re down to the end, and guys, I’m not ready. :(

Then:

THEY’RE IN LOVE

Now:

The world is empty.

Sam and Jack wander the empty streets. Dean pulls up in the Impala (still wearing his jacket with Cas’s bloody handprint. BRB CRYING.) Everyone’s gone. Dean tells the others that it’s Chuck that did this. Jack asks the IMPORTANT question: “Where’s Cas?” Dean looks down and hesitates, but eventually says, “He saved me.” He tells them the cliff’s notes version of what happened while shoving down A MILLION feelings of regret and loss and I want to hug him. “Cas is gone,” he finishes, and hahahahahahahahah NOPE. Sam, in disbelief, calls his side-ship Jody. No answer. 

They head to an empty sports bar (AND WHAT I WOULD DO TO GO TO A BAR WITH FRIES AND TVs AND BEER RIGHT NOW). Jack stays outside and prays to Cas. He gets nothing and starts walking. All the flowers start to wilt as he passes them. WHAT IS HAPPENING? 

Sam blames himself and is done. They decide to meet with Chuck.

They tell him that they’ll play his little game. They’ll kill each other. Dean demands that they put everything back to normal first, though. “The people, the birds, Cas.” All of it. (WEEPING.)

Dean, DEAN, Cas doesn’t want to be in a world where you don’t exist. 

Yeah, Chuck doesn’t care. He’s really into the brothers' suffering alone story. “That’s deep, that’s sophisticated, that’s a page turner.” Oh, Chuck, you dumb bastard. 

Cut to the bunker where they’re all suffering on their own. Jack wallows in his room. Sam wanders the halls, and Dean lays passed out on a bottle of liquor in the library. Sam finds Dean in the library, and Jack soon joins them to tell them that he’s sensing another presence in the world. 

They head to a gas station. Dean heads for the bathroom, and hears a whimpering. IT’S A DOG. And Dean’s so happy to have found him. He names the dog Miracle. 

Dean brings the dog out to show Sam. He tells him that Miracle is coming home with them. I AM DYING. Sam is shocked. Dean tells him not to worry because he’ll only let him ride shotgun if Sam is cool with it. Lol. 

Of course, all good things must end. And Miracle dusts like everything else in existence. Dean looks around and sees Chuck giving him a smarmy salute. F U C K  O F F,  C H U C K. Dean doesn’t even like dogs, so there. (The patented Robert Singer ZOOM tells me that Dean does indeed care about dogs.) 

(Sidenote: The dog is Cas, right? Dean’s beyond happy to see it. And is ready to let it sit shotgun, but only if Sam’s okay with it. And he’s REALLY upset that they can’t “save a dog”. Just thinking thoughts.) 

They head to a church. 

Once they’re in the church of very dangerously burning candles, they’re greeted by Michael. 

Michael tells them that he’s been chilling here to avoid Chuck’s notice. Adam is gone. (RIP Winchester brother that never got a chance.) Michael monologs a bit about humans and stuff. Dean recognizes a little soldier when he sees one. Michael wants to help though. 

Back at the bunker, Sam shows him Death’s book on God. Michael tries opening the book with no luck. (Sidenote: The DRAMA of the lights being lower is killing me.) 

*Dean is In Love Alert*

The brothers take a moment alone in the dark kitchen. 

Dean gets a call. 

Dean takes the call and because he’s a precious bean that actually believes what he’s hearing. Cas is at the bunker. He’s outside. He’s hurt. 

Dean takes off like a rocket AND I’M DYING. BBY BOY. NO. 

It’s not Cas. It’s Lucifer. 

UGH. 

(DOUBLE UGH.)

(INFINITY UGH.)

Yeah, Lucifer totally sees what’s between Dean and Cas and gains access to the bunker because of that. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool. 

He tells the brothers that the Empty kicked him out to finish Chuck. He brought a reaper to prove to the brothers that he’s good people (NOT.) 

Betty is bound and gagged. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) Lucifer then kills her. (Because WHY NOT DO THAT TO A WOMAN, Buckleming.) 

Betty is the new Death! 

(Sorrynotsorry for the lack of pictures. I think we all know why.) 

She asks for the book. If they give it to her, she can read it. 

They set her up in the dungeon reading room, and she doesn’t need helpers. 

Meanwhile, Lucifer is playing cards and there’s ZERO interaction with Jack and him. AND I AM LIVING. Like, it’s 100% clear that Jack isn’t his son and he does not see him as a father. Jack’s father is dead. AND I AM LIVING. (But also sad because Cas is dead.) 

Lucifer does interact with Michael though. Michael does not trust his brother.

Betty pops up with the book and the end of God. Lucifer ashes her with a snap of his fingers. 

(HOW?!>!>?)

Wherps, he grabs the book from her and reveals his hand. He’s working with Chuck.   

Lucifer and MIchael battle it out. Jack watches. Lucifer tries to convince Jack to join the losing team.

Michael stabs Lucifer with an archangel blade. Mercifully, there are no haughty speeches or further peacocking between these two. Lucifer sparks out, gone at last. GOOD RIDDANCE.

Later, Dean has a heart to heart with Michael in the kitchen. Michael’s reeling that Chuck brought Lucifer back from the dead instead of seeking him out. But he’s definitely NOT BITTER, NOPE. 

Dean reveals that Chuck’s book is open and full of mysterious Enochian symbols. Sam’s going to translate those, and figure out how Chuck dies, so they can start knocking down some dominoes!

In the library later, Sam reveals that he’s uncovered a spell to stop Chuck. (Jack was researching nephilim on the computer! Jack bby) When complete, the spell will unleash an “unstoppable force” against Chuck. They head out to a special location, light the spell, and it sends three bright beams of power into the sky.

But the spell explodes. They look up to find Chuck standing there. Chuck...chucks the Winchesters and Jack away. He thanks Michael for tipping him off. “It’s always been my destiny to serve you,” Michael tells him. But that’s not enough for Chuck to forgive him for siding with the Winchesters even once. Chuck fractures Michael into light. The last archangel bites the dust.

He turns his attention to the Winchesters. It’s time to finish them. He’s canceling the show. At the last minute, he decides it’ll be more fun to beat them to death instead of snapping them out of existence. It’s……..YIKES PRETTY BRUTAL TO WATCH. “Just stay down,” he counsels them - practically begs them. But they won’t stop. Broken and bleeding, they hold each other up against him.

Sam laughs at Chuck’s confusion. “You lose,” he tells him. Behind Chuck, the camera pans to Jack. 

Chuck tries to snap Jack dead but his snapper isn’t working.

Jack lays his hands on Chuck and golden power streams from Chuck into Jack. Jack snaps his fingers once, and the Winchesters are healed. As they say in the industry...suck it, Chuck. 

Sam drops Death’s book in front of Chuck, but the pages are blank. Only Death can even SEE anything in the book (making the whole “can’t open book covers” thing into nothing but a drama llama move). The Winchesters came up with a plan B and spout this in a quick exposition dump.

Michael was jealous of Lucifer being “chosen” by Chuck

They made up the story of a spell, so Michael would tell Chuck

Jack’s “bomb” quest turned him into a power vacuum - thus the dying plants

When Michael and Lucifer fought in the bunker, the power exchange charged Jack back to full nephilim strength

Chuck killing Michael and beating on the Winchesters allowed Jack to absorb god-power

“This is why you’re my favorites,” Chuck gasps. He doesn’t know what happens next, but he’s ready to die “at the hands of Sam Winchester. Of Dean Winchester, the ultimate killer.”

And. Babies. Sweeties. I know that there are lots of people who have problems with this episode but THIS! THIS. This next line makes it all worth it. Because Dean tells him, “See, that’s not who I am. That’s not who we are.” He took how Castiel sees him and he planted that damn seed in his own heart and watered it even in the depths of despair and now it’s so mighty a force that he just walks away from their lifelong tormentor. GUYS. I LOVE IT. I’m so emotional right now.

Jack confirms that Chuck won’t get his powers back. “It’s not his power anymore.” And AGAIN I am emotional thinking about fanfiction and fanart and giving this show to us when it’s all done. Ahem. Anyway. Chuck’s gonna grow old and die and be forgotten like every single human. (Ooookay that got a little dark, but I’ll allow it. This is a “to the pain” speech, after all.)

Chuck begs for them not to leave him, reduced to sniveling panic in the Impala’s dust cloud.

The Winchesters head back to a small, empty town. Jack closes his eyes in the sunshine as “Get Together” by the Youngbloods croons across the scenes. People return to the world and it’s gentle and beautiful - everyone returning to their day-to-day. “Come on people now, smile on your brother!” the song implores. 

Love is but a song to sing Fear's the way we die You can make the mountains ring Or make the angels cry Though the bird is on the wing And you may not know why

Come on people now Smile on your brother Everybody get together Try to love one another Right now

And look. I know this is just a song, and this is just a show. But this is my hope for this show and these characters - steeped in darkness for so long. And this is my hope for our actual real world too. It’s hard for me to separate the two so YES I’M CRYING AS I TYPE THIS. May this song lead us into the next episode and destroy me in a fountain of hopeful light.

Erm. anyway. Miracle the dog runs into the scene! It IS a damn miracle! Dean and Sam are so proud of Jack! Jack confirms that Amara is with him and they’re in harmony. I’m so happy that Amara got a happy peaceful forever after with her nougat nephilim grand-nephew. Dean assumes that Jack’s coming back to the bunker with them. He’s top dog, “he can do whatever he wants now.” (And readers, I like that Dean says whatever “he wants” and not whatever the Winchesters want. I think it shows personal growth!)

Jack declines. He’s already home - he’s everywhere and everything. “I’ll be in every drop of falling rain. In every speck of dust that the wind blows. And in the sand, the rocks, and the sea.” Jack doesn’t want to lead people, or be prayed or sacrificed to. He wants to let them discover the truth in their own hearts, in their own time. “Chuck put himself in the story. That was his mistake. But I learned from you and my mother and Castiel that when people have to be their best - they can be. And that’s what to believe in.” I have to say, I was fervently against Jack-as-God until it happened. But just like everything to do with Jack, once it happens I just go...okay, cool. I’m on board!

In the bunker, Dean and Sam drink beer and comment on the quiet. “To everyone that we lost along the way,” Dean toasts. Sam realizes that they can write their own story now. “Just us,” he says (and it sounds like a bleak echo in the empty bunker). Behind them, the table has SW, DW, MW, Jack, and Castiel engraved and...MY HEART.

The Winchesters leave to go find out what freedom feels like and we get a montage of past scenes from the show, and characters we loved or loved to hate. Jackson Browne’s “Running on Empty” plays us off in sweet, mournful nostalgia.

The Winchesters drive into a sepia-tinged world. This episode is like my Thanksgiving plate mid-meal - all mashed together for faster plot consumption. But on a rewatch, there’s a lot to like too! It’s a goodbye to one story...

And we leave nostalgia behind. It’s time for them to figure out their own story and I AM SO EXCITED to see what happens next! (Lays some nougat candy bars on my altar for Andrew Dabb for one last vigil.)

WHERE’S THE QUOTES?

Where’s Cas?

Who’ve thought finding a dog would feel like a miracle? C’mon, Miracle!

What’s an ending?

Eternal suffering sounds good on paper, but as a viewing experience it’s just kinda...meh

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[nonagesimus]

(Fic) if you think it’s love (it is) - Sastiel ~2.5k

(AO3 Link)

Sam decides it’s time Cas finally gets that date. Happy Valentine’s Day, sastielers!

It was three days after the grace-extracting experiment. They had been quiet. Researching, looking for cases. Sam had calmed after the spell failed - for about a day. Since then Castiel had caught him staring in quiet moments, hovering over books with his gaze in middle distance instead of on the pages, chewing his fingernails. When he’d asked was was bothering him, Sam had said nothing. So, he waited. If Sam wanted to tell him something, he would. Eventually. Apparently three days was that eventually.

“I- I’m sorry if this is weird,” was an auspicious start, as he stepped into the library, but Castiel just waited for him to continue. “Dean told me - just mentioned, really - that while you were human you had kind of a… date that wasn’t.”

Which, yes, it probably was a little weird. Castiel was still unsure of what social cues he’d missed or ignored in that particular situation. But none of that was Sam’s fault. “I did,” he confirmed, neutrally.

“So, did you ever get a date?” Sam seemed to be very focused on carefully placing his coffee mug on the table without spilling anything. “A real one?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I think I’m ok without one, though.”

“No!” Sam’s voice came out a little strangled. “No, you- let me take you out.”

Castiel took his attention completely off the book he’d been scanning to fix his gaze to Sam, who at least had looked up at him now. Wide-eyed and a little paler than normal. “You want to take me on a date?”

That made Sam’s gaze skitter back to the table. “I just feel like you should have one.”

Castiel’s instinct was to push. Past the nerves, and the averted eyes, and the skip he could hear in Sam’s heartbeat. If he pushed, he thought, that might make Sam back off. “Ok,” he said, instead.

“Ok?” The word seemed like it rushed out of Sam’s chest involuntarily, breathy and relieved. “Ok. Great. Would- uh. How about the day after tomorrow?”

It wasn’t like Castiel had plans.

If he had, he would’ve cancelled them.

“How do I know you know what you’re talking about?” he asked Sam the next day, while he was watching him eat breakfast. “What’s the best date you’ve ever been on?”

Sam, to his surprise, flushed a little. “Ok, uh. There was this date I went on at Stanford. And- so you gotta understand it’s like a six hour drive from Palo Alto to LA,” he said, smile already curling the corners of his lips. “And Jess said she wanted to make a trip down, and I wasn’t sure. Twelve hours in a car is a long time, unless we wanted to get a motel or somewhere down there, but she was really into the idea, so… We go. We’d been together, like. Six months? I think.” His eyes had softened, looking into his memories. “Turns out she wanted to drag me to this bookstore she’d gone to with her family. They’d visited her Freshman year, taken a trip down to see the sights and…” He trailed off.

“And?” Castiel prompted.

“It’s called The Last Bookstore,” Sam said, focusing in on Castiel again. “It’s this huge place downtown. Bottoms floor is new books, top floor is all secondhand. Themed rooms, art features, the lot.”

“Sounds like your kind of place,” Castiel said.

“It was,” Sam said. His smile went distant again. “It took me an hour to realise that Jess liked it, sure, she thought it was a great bookstore. But it wasn’t six-hour-drive worth it to her. She just knew it would be to me.”

Castiel nodded, considering it. “That does sound nice.”

“We were so tired driving back I almost crashed the car,” Sam said. “But yeah.”

The next day, to Castiel’s surprise, they started early. Sam drove, did not tell Castiel where they were going. He’d packed a backpack, and didn’t protest when Castiel inspected it - it contained food. sandwiches, fruit, and carrot sticks, a thermos of coffee. Enough for Sam for the day.

“I’m guessing we’ll be out for a while,” he said, zipping it back up.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Unless- if you’re not having a good time just tell me. We can always go back.”

“You’re the one who wanted to take me out, Sam,” Castiel said, calmly. “I’m trusting you to do it.”

But Sam was nervous. Clear in the tension of his hands on the steering wheel, the set of his jaw. That, more than anything else, contributed to a quiet drive. Not uncomfortably - Sam had spent enough of his life on long car rides, and Castiel had certainly learned to bear them since he lost his wings. Sam took occasional sips from the thermos, they listened to local radio stations fade in and out, and watched the Kansas greenery go by. Until, a little before ten in the morning, Sam guided him into a small museum surrounded by short hiking trails.

And it was guided - Sam kept opening doors for him, kept hovering his hand near Castiel’s lower back, watching him out of the corner of his eye. They made it through three rooms - full of life-size dioramas, and informative placards, and really big rocks - before they spoke.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting. A level of information the hovered in-between the levels that Castiel did know -  the macro of heaven and the extreme micro of the world he now lived in with the Winchesters. As well as the displays, he watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. He had wondered if he’d linger close the whole time, that hand near the small of his back, a steady presence at his side. But, no, Sam orbits. Sometimes looking at the same displays as Castiel, sometimes across the room. Always aware of him, it seemed.

“So,” Castiel said the next time they felt themselves side by side, looking at a series of miniature log cabins, each in different stages of completion. “If this is supposed to be a bookshop moment, like Jess gave you, why here?”

Sam worried at his lip, cheeks a little flushed. “I don’t know if this is that special, but - and do correct me if I’m wrong, but I hope I’m not - you’ve experienced so much of history from the outside. Just through heaven’s point of view. And then you came down, and you fought with us, and you stayed with us. It made me think you might be a little interested in seeing more things from our perspective.”

“Oh.” Because of course models and dioramas were not just models and dioramas.

“Besides,” Sam said, with a little more confidence. “After the whole molecules discussion it was pretty obvious dinner was a bad idea.” He flashed a quick grin.

Castiel wished he’d brought a flower, like he had when he’d been wrong about it. For some reason it felt like it might’ve jinxed it. Was that a holdover from being human or just from spending so much time with the humans he was with? The same result either way.

Two hours had gone by, spent in equal contemplation of the exhibits and the man who had brought him to see them, when Sam suggested they head back to the car.

“The museum is open until five,” Castiel pointed out.

“We’ve got a location two,” Sam said, “And they close at five as well. We leave now we’ll have a couple of hours once we get there.”

Another three-ish hour drive then. “Using all your ideas on one day?” Castiel asked, moving with Sam towards the exit regardless. “There’s time.”

Sam laughed. “When have you known us to have this many days off in a row?”

It was true. Not just in the always-an-impending-catastrophe way, either. Castiel had been able to tell there was energy building up in Sam when they were in the bunker. That he was healing, but that also meant that a growing part of him was yearning to work again. Maybe planning this had partially been a way to burn off some of that.

Sam pulled open the passenger side door for him.

The set out again. Sam ate some of the food he’d packed for himself one handed - Castiel busied himself helping open and close containers, pouring from the thermos. Watching Sam drive. A shorter drive, but only slightly.

“This is,” Sam said, guiding Castiel towards the entrance, “The Cosmosphere.”

This one - this one Castiel liked better. There was something endearing, something comforting, something familiar about how hard humans strived for flight. And he understood, now, the lack of it. This was something that was too often missed, in heaven. They’d watched humanity grow, obviously, but they ignored how much of it had been under their own power. That the ‘hairless apes’ had taken stone, and steel, and fire, and built themselves wings.

He was staring up an a model of Saturn V when he noticed how closely Sam was watching him.

There was anxiety in his eyes, but also a fondness. A warmth.

Castiel’s chest was warm, too.

They lingered right up until closing time, walking so close as they left that it was easy for Castiel to brush their shoulders together, watch Sam duck his head and smile.

And he’d known. He’d known, as soon as he heard the way Sam’s heart skipped when he’d asked if he could take him out, at every door he’d opened, how he’d been watching Castiel closer than any of the exhibits. Sam opened the door of the car for him again, and Castiel stopped to grip his arm, feel it solid and warm under his palm.

“Thank you for this, Sam,” he said.

Sam’s answering smile was bright, and open, and felt a little like sunshine. “There’s, uh. There’s one more thing. If you want to do it.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Suns gonna be down in about an hour,” Sam said. “I thought… If you wanted to I thought we could stop and stargaze for a while.”

It sounded romantic.

It was cold, in the December air, but Sam had managed to stow blankets in the car without Castiel noticing. He draped one over the hood, and piled the others on top of them. He didn’t feel the cold, not like Sam did, but the blankets were an excuse to sit closer that completely necessary. Shoulders pressed in together. One ankle thrown over one of Sam’s. They talked, a little. Mostly they stared up at the sky. Sam finished the lukewarm coffee left in the thermos. Castiel listened to him breath, to the beat of his heart.

After a long time, Sam made a slightly apologetic noise, sliding off the hood of the car. “This isn’t great date talk, he said, “but we should get going, and I really need to take a leak before we drive home.” Then he tramped off into the undergrowth off the side of the road.

There weren’t any roses nearby, but Castiel could smell wildflowers still somehow hanging on in the cold. Quietly, he made his way into the dark to pick one, carefully selecting a bloom that had no crushed petals, wasn’t too close to wilting. A brief thought to Dean’s advice, and he removed his tie, opened an extra button on his shirt.

It felt a little ridiculous but when they got inside the car, and the interior light turned on, Sam’s eyes flickered down to the newly exposed skin.

Castiel held out the flower towards him.

Sam took it, hand soft and reverant, grin blooming on his face. “What’s this?”

“For you,” Castiel said. “You took me out, the least I could do is get flowers.”

Sam flushed, gently tucked the flower into one of the buttonholes in his shirt. “Thanks,” he said, so soft it was almost whispered.

They drove.

Sam was clearly exhausted by the time they got back to the bunker, yawning so wide his jaw cracked and then looking shame-faced. “Sorry,” he said.

“Hm,” Castiel said. “Maybe next time it could be one trip out per date, not a marathon.”

He cracked a grin at that. And, after all this time, it was nice to see an exhaustion that felt pleased. Satisfied, not just harrowed. “I’ll keep that in mind, Cas.”

“So.” Castiel paused at the corridor that lead towards the bedrooms, turned to face Sam. Wondered if he should be pushing this far. “There’s a proper way to end a good date, correct?”

Sam’s eyes flickered instantly to Castiel’s lips, which made him feel unaccountably pleased. “That’s ok, Cas,” he said, instead of leaning in. “That’s- that’s more for proper dates, not. This.”

So there was the line. Driving a total of nine hours across Kansas, carefully selected locations that he’d thought Cas would like, sitting shoulders pressed together on the hood of the car. Standing right up against it, but Sam had drawn a line, and this was it.

“This meant something to you,” Castiel said, stepping one foot over. “More than just doing something nice for me.”

“Cas,” Sam said, shaking his head, gaze down, self-deprecating smile. “You don’t have to-“

“I would like it,” Castiel interrupted, stepping closer, second foot over the line, and taking Sam’s hand, “If you let it mean something to me too.”

Sam’s eyes met his, expression disbelieving, almost scared. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t shift as Cas leaned closer. Not all the way. He was sure, he was so sure but- but if he was wrong.

He wasn’t wrong. Sam, breath unsteady, hand tightening around Castiel’s, closed the last of the distance. As kisses went it was gentle. Chaste. All too brief. As Sam drew back a noise of protest slipped out of Castiel’s throat involuntarily; he shifted with him. Sam’s free hand moved to his jaw, guided him into a second kiss, slower and deeper, and that, that was what Castiel wanted. He let his hand splay at Sam’s lower back, drew him in closer, opened his mouth so they could taste each other.

They broke apart eventually, Sam’s thumb stroking up and down the side of Castiel’s hand.

“So,” Castiel said, “Next time, I’m taking you out. Give me some time to plan it.”

Sam ducked his head, but not far enough Castiel couldn’t see his smile. “Ok.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “If that’s alright.”

Sam’s smile brightened, and leaned in to meet him.

[loserchildhotpants]

you know that tried and true trope of ‘Dean is frothing at the mouth over Castiel and Sam notices and thinks it’s funny but is also like ‘Dean, he is Just A Guy.’ ?

hear me out

what if

Dean was like ‘no. please believe me - i have every right to be acting insane, okay? HE is crazy-making! It’s that you don’t - you don’t know him like I do! You haven’t had the weird fuckin’ - look, you just don’t get it. but believe me, if you put the time in, you would.’

and what if Sam was like

‘... hmm. would i?’

so he starts hanging out with Cas more often in the bunker, they talk over books and stuff, and he stops being so careful - he starts asking a little less about what Cas can translate and attest to, and starts asking more about what makes Cas happy, what his hobbies are, what he does when he’s away. He starts explaining references to Cas, maybe gets him to watch Legally Blonde and then Cas is like ‘you would not have done well in such high heels, Sam, but your hair is still more voluminous than Elle’s.’

Dean likes that they’re getting along - he hasn’t connected the dots, why would he? 

It’s nice that his brother and best friend are getting along!

Sam and Cas pull some pranks on Dean together, Sam laughs so hard he’s reduced to tears - after a spill in a diner, Cas needs to borrow a shirt and Sam just lends his own, not even thinking about it, and then he laughs again at how Cas fuckin’ swims in it, but it’s also weirdly disarming. 

It occurs to Sam that Castiel is breakable, temporary - and that’s frightening, suddenly.

Cas is his friend. The reality that he might lose Cas is - a lot. It’s sort of how hunting goes, though. The Life is constantly demanding sacrifices, and it could be Cas, it could be Dean, it could be Sam - any old day. It wasn’t always that way, though. Cas was once of another world, able to heal and bend the universe to his will. And he’s fit, he’s fast, he’s a good soldier - better than Dean, even, but he’s mortal now.

He wonders to himself if that’s why Dean acts like such an asshole all the time; he’s constantly worried about Cas. Sam guesses it makes sense - he’d probably act like a jerk all the time too if everything important to him was always on the line, even, when by all rights, they shouldn’t be.

He’s reminded of Cas’ fragility during a hunt that goes bad with some demons, Sam is knocked down, and he’d have been impaled with something that’s all gummed up with blood like tar, dull from repeated strikes, but Cas plunges over him, blocking the blow with his torso, taking the hit for him.

Arms are bracketing Sam’s head, the weapon is lodged in Cas’ back, blood is sprayed over Sam as he blinks up in horror at Cas - Cas, whose hair is mussed, eyes wild, breathing shallow over him - and Cas turns his head over his shoulder, looks at his attacker as he announces murderously, “you will not harm Sam Winchester.”

Then Cas is getting to his feet, twisting enough to remove the protruding weapon from his back shoulder, and he wields his own blood at the enemy now paling at the show of fortitude, huffing, crazed, still standing, and Sam -

He gets it.

Suddenly, Cas is... not just Some Guy.

He’s - hot.

He’s hot, and he’s compassionate, and terrifying, and powerful, ancient, unknowable but so willing to share himself, he is good, hopeful, romantic, clever, and he’s willing to die for Sam.

More compelling to Sam, maybe, is that Cas is willing to fight to live for him.

It’s - intoxicating. Castiel cares so much, and all Sam has done is sort of fuck up, and ruin shit, but Castiel likes him just like he is, he doesn’t hold grudges, and his positive regard doesn’t hinge upon whether or not Sam fails or makes mistakes.

He’s NOT just some guy - he’s unlike any other guy or person that Sam has ever met before, and it’s weird that it took him all this time to realize that.

When it’s Cas’ turn in the shower at the motel that night, Dean and Sam are laid up haphazardly around the room, holding ice to aching bruises, blearily watching television, and as the shower starts, Sam is thinking about how Cas’ thrift shirt stretched over the back of his broad shoulders, and how long his fingers looked, stretching around the neck of that demon.

He thinks of the blood and ash and dirt sliding off him in the shower, what it might be like to have Cas flash those eyes at him, calm, serene, but curious and wondering, thick eyelashes clumped together from the shower water, his hair hanging low across his forehead - would he still seem fragile? Or would it be that he’d be vulnerable? 

Is there a difference?

Maybe Sam would be able to tell the difference, if it was Cas.

Thinking of Castiel naked in the stall is making it hard to breathe. He swallows roughly, brings the icepack down from his head into his lap, stares down at it and just goes, “I get it.”

“What?” Dean might ask.

“I get it,” Sam would repeat, not really knowing how to articulate what’s changed, “... Cas. He, uh - he’s special. I dunno why. Or how. But... heh -” Sam would rub at his hair, he’s nervous and his face is hot, and he doesn’t get why - Cas is just Some Guy - “I dunno why I’m - I’m sounding stupid, aren’t I? Nevermind. It’s fine. Which - of course it’s fine, why wouldn’t it be? I mean, relatively speaking. I almost definitely have a concussion and I’ll owe you fifty bucks if you didn’t slip a disc back there, but -”

“Sammy.”

He’d look up at Dean, Dean who’s red-faced and clearly frazzled.

“You - like a friend, right? Not that I -”

“No, right, yeah - like, just -”

“Cause it’s not like I’m -”

“Of course not, no, I know you’re not -”

“And it’s not like Cas -”

“No, I know, I know, Cas isn’t, uh -”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yeah, no, I know. It’d be weird if he was -”

“Right, and he’s not, so -”

“Right.”

He’d remark upon how amazing it is that he and Dean can talk out loud to each other and say nothing at all.

Dean would roll his eyes and look away, and Sam might ask, “... what if Cas was, though?”

Dean wouldn’t be looking at him anymore, his jaw would be tight, he’d be watching the television even though his eyes would be unfocused.

“You think, uh... you think he’d... go for me, Dean?”

Eyes actually bugging out, Dean would twist to stare at him, mouth agape, maybe ready to literally start throwing punches, but then the shower would stop running, and Cas would call out for someone to please pass him his duffel, and after a single beat of comprehension and eyebrow-based communication, BOTH Winchesters would scramble to get there first, and it’d be the first Silent Challenge for Castiel’s Honor in a long series of them sdljfhskldjfhsdkjfhsdjkhf

Poor Cas would be like ‘pls i am just a bean’ and they’d both be losing their minds fffffff

i just love the idea of Sam being like ‘god, remember when i didn’t know you contained multitudes? wish that were me again.’