#actually my name is samandriel

[shallowseeker]

Cas is right. Dean, with all of his free will intact, would NOT have murdered the Stynes kid.

Like Cas, with his free will intact, would never have murdered Samandriel.

Their assessments of one another are actually correct.

///

Both are on their way to becoming mindless super-soldiers who feel nothing.

And essentially, they tell each other, "you're gonna have to go through me" (to become that).

///

Some similarities in the fight scenes:

They both reach out a hand to the other's shoulder, saying the other's name:

///

Both twist the other's hand away:

///

They ask each other to: "Stop," both telling the other in so many words that "this isn't you."

Their styles differ, of course. Dean goads Cas defiantly: "Come on you coward, do it!" Cas tries to remain level-headed and controlled, only moving to block and restrain.

Essentially, their desires are the same, for the other to stop.

///

With everyone telling them who they should be, and trying to make them into things other than what their big hearts would actually want, they beg each other to stay as they are.

I don't want you to be what they want you to be.

Just be you. Just be.

///

///

And then, much like Cas in the crypt... flight. Cas leaves.

Dean leaves.

///

And here's what's on my mind... They were both GOOD at being soldiers. Unbelievably good.

Their talents were recognized early and exploited. They became chained to their respective battle aptitudes.

Both had to reckon with becoming addicted to war, to the feeling of adrenaline and black-and-white causes (see: Purgatory, hunting, etc.). Both often feel too much responsibility, punishing themselves and undertaking penance.

They struggled with thinking it's all they were good for, battle or WORK.

Or worse. For Dean, it was often being one of the "crazy ones," only "good for a fling." For Cas, it was often "being expendable."

They're looked down upon by the likes of Metatron: Cas is like a "dumb puppy," a "stupid, lumbering jock." Even Crowley talks to Dean this way on occasion: "It's math (idiot)."

It's also like when Death calls Cas a "stupid soldier." Or when the British Men of Letters call the ones on the ground doing the fighting and getting their hands dirty "dogs." Or when Henry calls hunters "apes."

Despite their supposed "legacy lineage," Sam and Dean inherited the Campbell class. The soldier class.

Interesting to me that Jack inherits this, too. Despite his aptitude for nearly everything he touches (computers, research, even blossoming machete skills when he kills Noah the Gorgon), Jack too will inherit this Campbell-coded "stupidity."

That's what Chuck charges him with in Unity: "TOO STUPID."

Jack has Cas and Dean's class: the soldier class.

[crowley-the-1-true-king-of-hell]

8x02

Samandriel asked after Cas 😊 and he sighed when Dean said Cas wasn't here. Samandriel loved Cas, how cruel of the show to set things up so that he would be killed unnecessarily

YOUNG MAN: Actually, my name is Samandriel

DEAN Let's just stick with Alfie

I used to call Samandriel, Alfie, but then I realized how rude it is to say "let's just stick with Alfie" as if their decision on their name doesn't matter. Why not "is it okay if I call you Alfie? I can call you Sam for short but my brother is Sam so"

Like how rude is it to just presume that they should be okay with that name? A rudeness trap that I have fallen into

[stusbunker]

Smoking Spirits on the Roof

Thank you to @michaelsworddean​​ for the throwback Misha pic and @talesmaniac89​​ for the divider

Featuring: Dean/Cas

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.5k

Other characters: Sam, Anna, Gabriel, Bobby/Rufus, brief mention of past Dean/Cassie, Michael, Chuck, Naomi, Samandriel, Garth, Benny, Gordon and Sam/Jess at the end.

Summary: When Dean shows up to a Halloween party, he isn’t expecting his entire world to change. But that’s what happens when he drunkenly makes out with the mysterious Castiel, a brother of a friend of a friend. Follow Dean as he navigates Cas’ world and works to be the boyfriend Cas deserves.

Song fic, inspired by Tyler Childers’ Feathered Indians

Warnings, etc.: Drunken hook up, handjobs, driving under the influence and then not, Sam’s a lightweight, RELIGIOUS families and the way some of them are shitty, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, being closeted, hidden relationship, fellatio, first times, drug use, unsafe sex, HEA, seriously it’s actually pretty fluffy.

Big thank you to @thoughtslikeaminefield​​ for her support, edits, and pre-reads.

     Well my buckle makes impressions  

     On the inside of her thigh  

     There are little feathered Indians  

     Where we tussled through the night  

 If anyone asked him, Dean just said it was what he had available. But if you really knew Dean, you’d know that the costume he wore that night was born from a deep seeded interest— some may call a fetish— in cowboy culture, films and legend.

 He tips his hat as he walks into the kitchen of Benny’s upper, Garth in aviators follows with Sam in overalls behind him. Sam was lucky he was so huge otherwise Dean wouldn’t risk bringing a high schooler to his friends’ party. And as his big brother, he made sure Sam knew it before they headed out that night.

 Benny’s roommate Gordon is manning the keg, decked out in full ninja gear with foam swords that cross his back. His dark eyes smile when he sees Dean, and they fist bump in greeting before passing plastic cups to Garth and Sam.

 “Didn’t think you’d show,” Gordon calls over the ruckus, keeping the drink line moving.

 Dean shrugs and replies, loudly. “Didn’t really have any other plans, figured it couldn’t hurt.”

 “Well, you know where the big man will be.”

 Dean nods, then thumbs towards the back porch. “Andrea bring any friends?”

 Gordon smirks, and Dean feels it behind the mask. “Yeah, she’s got a whole Greek Chorus out there.”

 Dean hedges his chances and brings his entourage outside to mingle. The deck is almost at maximum capacity. And Dean sees what Gordon meant, there are three or four girls and a couple of guys all in togas, hanging around Benny and Andrea with their spray-painted leaf crowns. There are the customary sexy nurses and cats and a few guys too unoriginal to be anything but some kind of athlete with their favorite jersey thrown on for the night.

 “Hail to the King!” Dean jeers, swaggering over to Benny for a jovial handshake and a side hug for Benny’s long-time girlfriend. “And her majesty, looking gorgeous as ever.”

 “Eyes front, John Wayne,” Benny drawls. “This Sammy?”

 Sam waves awkwardly and Garth finger guns. “Hey, Andrea, who are your friends?”

 Dean rolls his eyes but lets Garth get the introductions.

 “Meg and Anna are my sorority sisters, and this is Anna’s real brother Castiel and their cousin Gabriel. And Bela and Billie are up for the weekend, we grew up together.”

 Everyone smiles or at least nods at the acknowledgment of their names. Then Garth is off, “well I’m your Top Gun Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth, with my two compatriots, Dastardly Dean Winchester and his hayseed of a brother Samuel.”

 “Sam is fine,” Sammy points out, ducking his head nervously.

 Dean just tips his hat again.

 He catches a few eyes, but the unshakeable stare of the taller guy makes Dean swallow around whatever follow-up quip he’d been working on after Garth’s eagerness. And from that two hours, four shots, and three beers later, Dean is wrapped around the guy in the kitchen pantry, sloppy and silly, making out like they’re on a timer.

 Seven minutes in heaven indeed.

 The guy, Castiel, is strong, and solid. He shoves Dean back against the door and bites Dean’s bottom lip before slotting their legs together to get some frictional relief. Dean’s both grateful and frustrated with the jeans of his costume. Cas, Dean decides to shorten it now, in the toga is practically free for the groping, but Dean’s been keeping his hands on his hips until he’s given more verbal permission.

 Sometimes kissing is enough. Sometimes, it’s hard to stop once you get started.

 Sometimes Dean's a chicken shit.

             He lost his hat somewhere on the floor, but he's still got his boots on and that oversized belt buckle he's saved for just an opportunity like this to present itself. And it's his belt buckle that snags on the rope tie of Cas' toga.

 Cas pulls away with an annoyed grunt, tucking and twisting and gathering the flowing fabric until it’s bunched around his waist and Dean thinks he sees the hem of some white boxers in the shadows of the closet. And then he looks at Dean and tilts his head, jaw hitched and eyes imploring. “Have you ever heard that song about saving a horse?”

 And then, some minutes later, Dean’s on his back, and there’s a dress's worth of sheet fanning out from either side of him as Cas writhes against him, both still fully clothed, but hard as steel as they gasp against each other’s mouths.

 “I, uh, don’t usually listen to any modern country—- but I think I found a new appreciation for that song,” Dean gushes in between kisses. Dizzy and drunk on this stranger above him.

 Castiel chuckles and grinds deeper. Dean sees spots and just as he realizes he’s going home with spunky shorts, there’s a bang on the door.

 “Dean-o! Your brother’s puking his guts out!”

 “Fuck off!” Dean hollers back before Benny finishes talking. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath, letting his head drop back onto the floor. He runs his hands up and down Cas’ thighs, feeling his retreating erection make room between them.

 “Do you need to go?” Cas asks, voice low and forgiving.

 Dean peers out of one eye. “Need to? No. But I’m gonna, just wanna—”

 Dean finds Cas beneath all those layers, hot and heavy and somehow still hard. Cas groans at the rough tug of Dean’s hand, but he leans forwards and kisses Dean filthy as he lets this midnight cowboy get him off. At least the train makes for easy concealment and clean-up, for Cas, Dean thinks.

 Begrudgingly, Dean stands to sort himself out before going to find Sam. He untucks his plaid button-up and tries to hide the dark patch on his pants. Cas hands him his hat. Dean smiles shyly and ducks into it.

 “Hey, uh, think I can get your number? That was some ride,” Dean asks.

 “Maybe. Go check on your brother and then find me before you go,” Cas says thoughtfully. But Dean starts to get nervous that this was all it was ever gonna be.

 And then Benny’s pounding again.

 It takes damn near twenty minutes to get Sam vertical and cleaned up, but with Garth’s sober, wiry strength, they get him into the backseat of the Impala. Dean dusts off his hands and looks at his friend. “Thanks, but give me like five minutes, and we can head out.”

 “What?! Dean! He’s a little green in the gills to be beating around the bush,” Garth objects.

 “I know, just— five minutes. Please?” Dean clamps his hand on Garth’s shoulder and begs with his eyes.

 Garth agrees begrudgingly, “clock’s a’ticking.”

 Dean rushes back into the house, but can’t find any sign of Cas. He spots a couple of other members of the toga crew, but none of them have the build of a centurion. He checks the den, the kitchen, even the bathroom, and then, finally, he resigns himself to being a drunken hookup.  

 He waves goodbye to Benny and Gordon who are in an epic battle against Bela and Andrea for the beer pong championship and mopes down the front steps.

 To stop dead in his tracks.

 Cas—Castiel is talking to Garth, who is apparently reassuring him that Sam is gonna be fine.

 “--- won’t mind at all, in fact, it’s on the way to my place anyway.” Then the string bean notices Dean’s return. “What do you say, Dean, can we give Mr. Milton here a lift home?”

 Dean straightens up and smiles, feeling ready and willing to do whatever Cas needs. “Everything alright?”

 Cas clenches his fists at his sides and looks back at the house. “Uh, my sister, it appears she and Gabriel left some time ago. If it’s not too much trouble, I don’t live far.”

 Dean understands his apprehension. He’s not about to draw this out in front of Garth, and least of all a shitfaced Sam. “Sure thing, man. Take shotgun, Garth can be on Sam watch for the first leg.”

 Cas lives about a half mile off campus in a two-story bungalow with a well-maintained yard and three rusty cars in the driveway. No wonder he didn’t drive himself, Dean thinks.

 Instead of asking for his number again, Dean gives Cas his, scratched out on the back of a gas station receipt. “Just text me to let me know you got in okay.”

 It’s overkill. Everyone knows it. But no one mentions it.

 Cas accepts the piece of paper and nods at Dean, never breaking eye contact. And suddenly Garth is ready to swap places with Dean for the drive to Garth’s apartment. The moment is broken, Cas lets his fingers brush against Dean’s as he tugs on the receipt, but nothing more is said.

 He goes in through the side door, and the Impala backs out onto the quiet street.

  If I'd known she was religious  

   Then I wouldn't have came stoned

To the house of such an angel

   Too fucked up to get back home

 Cas doesn’t text Dean until the following afternoon.

       >>> I got in okay.

        <<< I figured

        <<<Must have been some lock

     <<< glad to hear it  

      <<<hows it going otherwise?  

 They start casually talking, getting to know one another instead of just each other’s mouths and bodies. Cas is in his third year, studying ancient history with a focus on the Mediterranean. He seems very impressed with Dean being an engineering student, which isn’t the first time he’s heard it, but it still feels good.

  Dean’s done with his last class with an entire day left before Thanksgiving break, so he and Benny are getting stoned and watching slasher fics. The bloodier, the better, they agreed. They’re about to start the last movie of the first trilogy when Andrea bursts in, in tears. Something about her stepmom or some family drama. Benny gives Dean a regretful look, but Dean knows when to make himself scarce. He stands to go and realizes he cannot drive. Everything is light and fluffy, and his tongue works over his teeth to give it something to do.

 Dean decides to go for a walk. The fall air is crisp, and he knows the neighborhood well enough, even high as balls in the darkness of the late afternoon. He makes the brilliant decision to text Cas, to see if he’s free. Dean’s been trying not to get too attached to the stoic history major. But he can’t deny he wants to see him again and is curious to see what he only drunkenly felt on Halloween.

 There are two major streets that lead into campus, and each has a minor grid of residential streets that break off in either direction, to the east it ends with the lake, to the west it ends with the river, and more pointedly, the start of the freeway. Dean heads to the west and the rows of older homes which have all slowly been turned into rental properties for the upperclassmen. The streets are full of students rushing off campus, but once Dean reaches the turn-off to Cas’ place, the chaos of the campus has quieted to normal neighborhood noises.

 It’s peaceful, Dean thinks. Nothing like the crappy trailers he and Sam have been in and out of since their house burned down. Not too shabby for university housing, all in all. Cas had replied a simple ‘not much’ for his plans for the night, so Dean takes the risk. Worst case scenario, the guy isn’t even home.

 So, when an acne-covered kid, who couldn’t be over fourteen, answers the door, Dean is concerned. Then the kid goes and yells at the top of his lungs, “Castiel, you have a guest!” Like they’re suddenly in some sort of Victorian novel.

 Then it all clicks, this isn’t some rental, this is the house Cas lives in, with his entire family. And there are a lot of them, besides pimple face, there’s Anna and some blonde guy watching television in the den just off the foyer. Cas comes down the wide wooden staircase with a pencil behind his ear and his eyebrows pitched in alarm, pink lips pinched tight.

 Dean tries to smile and wave, but he is interrupted by a short guy with curly gray hair and piercing blue eyes, lighter and more ominous than Cas’.

 “Are you a friend of Castiel’s from school?”

 Dean swallows because he hasn’t been asked a question like that since he hit double digits. He looks to Cas and back to his dad and holds out his hand.

 “Uh, hi, I’m Dean. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d say by— swing hi.”

 “Dean—,” Cas warns softly, hand clutching the ornate railing.

 “I’m Chuck, but you can call me Mr. Shurley. I’m Castiel’s dad.” The guys got a grip on him, and very soft hands. Dean nods and shakes for longer than is probably necessary, but better to be safe than sorry.

 “Nice to meet you, sir.”

 “Likewise,” Chuck smiles and pulls his hand back, finally.

 “I didn’t realize you were already done with classes,” Castiel tilts his head, probably trying to remain civil, but Dean feels himself be weighed and measured in his gaze. Damnit, he knows Dean’s stoned.

 Does his dad know though?

 Dean shrugs. “I got lucky this semester, only got Tuesday/Thursday classes.”

 “Castiel?” His dad interrupts. “Why don’t you see if your friend would like to join us for dinner?”

 Food sounds amazing and Dean kind of likes all the politeness. “Yeah, Cas, can I stay for dinner?”

 Cas looks to the ceiling and then at the couch, glaring over a fleeting giggle from Anna. “I’ll go set another place for him,” he grumbles, sulking through the den and into a door that must lead to the kitchen. Or maybe the dining room, old houses like this would have one of those, Dean thinks.

 “Come on in, Dean,” Chuck holds the door wide, and Dean steps inside and takes off his leather jacket. He sets it on a well-stocked coat rack just inside the door, there aren’t any shoes in the foyer, so Dean keeps his boots on.

 He doesn’t think he’d be able to unlace them in front of an audience, not at the moment anyway.

 “Something tells me you know, Anna as well–”

 Dean smirks. “Guilty.”

 “And that’s Michael, our oldest.”

 “How’s it going?” Dean nods to the guy, who looks to be damn near thirty.

 “Sup?” Michael barely glances in Dean’s direction.

 “Hey, Dean. How’s your brother?” Anna asks, turning from the t.v. to give their guest her full attention.

 “Sammy’s fine, just a little low on the tolerance level, but I think he learned his lesson.” Dean tries to cover all his bases, not sure how well received underaged drinking would be by Cas’ family.

 Chuck sighs awkwardly. Dean turns to look at him, and he almost elbows the kid that answered the door in the face. Where the hell was the twirp this whole time?!

 “Samandriel, did you finish your homework?”

 “Not yet, but I will after dinner. I swear!” The kid’s voice cracks, and Dean feels for him.

 He shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and tries not to make his presence too obvious. Though he’s probably the biggest person in the house unless there are more brothers somewhere. Dean glances around the room and sees a row of school pictures spanning an entire wall. One, two, four, shit there’s six of them!

 And Anna’s the only girl.

 “Guilty,” she shoots his answer back at his thinking out loud. “Did Castiel know you were coming?”

 Dean spins his head and bats his lashes at her, trying to remember the question. “No— nope. I, uh, kinda just assumed.”

 “Well, you’re in it now. I hope you like spaghetti because she always makes too much as it is,” Anna says.

 Dean’s stomach growls. Even Michael laughs.

 Luckily Chuck wanders away at some point, so Dean is able to relax a little. But then Cas is back, and Dean has to remember not to openly flirt with the oh-so-handsome grump.

 “So how blazed are you right now?” Cas murmurs as they let his siblings lead the way to the table.

 Dean squints and pouts his lips, contemplating. “About half as much as when I got here. I’ll be fine!”

 Cas cocks an eyebrow, but Dean must be adorable like this or something because Cas throws him a bone. “My mother’s name is Naomi, call her Ms. Milton if you want to get in her good graces.”

 Dean whispers, “I thought your dad’s name was Shurley.”

 Cas licks his lips and grins. “It is, she didn’t take it.”

 “Ah!” Dean gets it, and Cas nods him towards the dining room door.

 The dining room is lined in dark wood, but is well-lit. The parents take the seats at either end of the table while the mostly grown children all find spots along the sides. No one mentions the empty seat between Anna and Michael or from whom Dean’s borrowing his chair. He chooses the seat on the end near Cas’ mom, she looks nice, and he hasn’t gotten to charm a mom since he helped Benny and Gordon move in August.

 “It smells amazing, Ms. Milton. Thanks for having me,” Dean beams as he pulls in his chair.

 The woman’s bright eyes sparkle with amusement. “So you’re our surprise guest. Mr?---”

 “Winchester, ma’am. Dean Winchester. I go to school with Cas and Anna,” Dean explains as Cas fills his water glass. “Thanks, man.”

 “It’s nice to see that Castiel is being social, he tends to get so involved in his studies that he—,” Naomi starts.

 “Mom!” Anna cuts in, eyes Cas and Dean, and then bobs her head to show that line of conversation is a little awkward. “Dean, what’s your major again?”

 “Mechanical Engineering, though it was a tough call, I almost went civil, but I figured the small problems are more my specialty. I love figuring out how to make things work and work better.”

 “It’s nice to see someone passionate about their field,” Chuck adds, after which Dean catches a glare between Michael and Salamander. Chuck clears his throat and holds up his hands for his children on each side to hold. “Bow your heads.”

 Dean takes Cas’ hand in his left and Naomi’s hand in his right, the size difference between their two hands is mesmerizing, and Dean forgets to listen to the prayer of gratitude. He risks rubbing his thumb against Cas’ while it’s out of sight.

 Cas has good hands.

 Suddenly there is a very abrupt chorus of “amen,” and Dean catches up a beat too late. But at least he can open his eyes again. Anna smirks at him, and Cas does his best to avoid making eye contact as they eat. Other than Dean eating two full plates worth, his presence becomes less of a novelty as the meal progresses.

 He volunteers to do the dishes because that’s how he was raised.

 Awkwardly enough, it is also Michael’s turn. So Dean dries as Michael washes. The weed is almost completely out of his system, but a thick food coma has settled in its place. Michael isn’t terribly chatty, but Dean gets the impression that he is not impressed with Dean at all.

 Dean’s spinning the cullender as he wipes it dry. He wonders what Cas is doing since his dad insisted that Dean was fine on his own. Either way, there are worse ways to spend a night off.

 “So, you go to State too or—?” Dean tries to make conversation.

 Michael chuckles and shakes his head.

 “No, I work with our dad printing his magazine. I set us up online, and now I kind of do whatever comes up,”

 “Family business, huh? I get that. What’s the magazine? Anything I would have come across?”

 Michael looks at Dean in mild amusement. “I doubt it.”

 Dean counters, “try me.” He takes the last pot from the drip tray.

 “Christian Home & Family Quarterly,” Michael deadpans and flicks the water off his hands towards the sink before wiping them off on the front of his jeans.

 Dean concedes with a little bounce of his head. “Yeah, can’t say that I have seen that one.”

    “Yeah, you don’t seem like the church-going type. No offense.”

 Dean just raises his eyebrows, because he’s not about to get into an argument with this guy in his own kitchen. But also, what the fuck?!

 Michael grins and slaps Dean on the back. “Thanks for the assist. I’ll go tell Castiel he gets to have his playdate before it’s time for bed.”

 Dean mutters silently behind Michael’s back. “Playdate my ass.”

 He drains the sink and wipes down the counters, unsure if Cas is going to come to find him or if Dean is going to have to wander back to the living room for a prayer circle.

 He wouldn’t be surprised either way.

 “You’re still here,” Cas says briskly. Dean can’t decide if that’s shock or annoyance in his eyes.

 Dean goes for broke and smirks. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

 “I’m sorry— when you texted— I had no idea you were nearby. Or—”

 “High as a kite? Yeah, man, no problem, I didn’t realize this was your folks’ place. This is all on me. On a scale of one to never, how likely will I be welcomed back?”

 Castiel tilts his chin down. “Do you want to come back? We usually weird people out well before they make it to the dinner table.”

 “Uh, well,” Dean stutters and scratches the back of his head. “I don’t mind the family time. I was just hoping to maybe hang out with you some more. But, uh, I’m guessing they don’t know about—.”

 Cas sighs and looks behind him to see that the kitchen door is still closed. “No, they don’t. They think I’m an innocent, socially inept, straight guy who is so busy with school he isn’t ready to find a wife and settle down.”

 “What about Michael?” Dean asks because that’s the first counterpoint to Cas’ parents' thought process his brain supplies.

 “What about Michael?” Cas leans against the sink, holding his opposite elbow.

 “Why isn’t he married and having a soccer team of his own?”

 Cas frowns, but mostly in the brow. “He’s got impossible standards. And a bit of a temper, if I’m being honest. But who am I to judge?”

 Dean tugs Cas’ hand away from his middle, stepping into his space and whispering, “Cas, if me hanging around could get you in trouble, I won’t do it. But if you still want to get to know one another better, I’ll be on my best behavior. Honest.”

 Cas bites his lips and looks at their fingers looped together. “I don’t have many friends. I can’t trust a lot of people with who I am, Dean. All I can do is work my ass off to graduate on time and find a doctoral program or a teaching job somewhere my parents and their church can’t repress me.”

 “Well, I gotta admit I was hoping for more than friendship showing up here tonight. But if that’s what you need, Cas— I can be your friend,” Dean tries to swallow down the disappointment. It’s not a rejection, but the aches are related.

 Cas looks firmly into Dean’s eyes. “I can only be friends here, Dean. Anywhere else, in private—”

 Dean nods, biting his bottom lip as he tries not to stare at Cas’ mouth. Oh, to feel those lips on his again. He clears his throat and straightens up.

 “Alright, buddy, you got it. So— you think you can give me a lift to my car?”

       Lookin' over West Virginia  

     Smoking Spirits on the roof  

     She asked ain't anybody told ya  

     That them things are bad for you  

     I said many folks have warned me  

     There's been several people try  

But up 'til now, there ain't been nothing

     That I couldn't leave behind  

 It was one of those in-between weeks, where the panic of finals sneaks up after Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, everyone is rushing to get ready to head back to wherever they’re actually from. Except for Dean, of course, ever the townie.

 He inhales a long drag off his cigarette and looks out over the campus. It’s late, even for night classes. The walkways are lit up like a Christmas tree but in Hannukah’s colors of white and safety blue. He’s got a good ten minutes before his supervisor comes looking for him, so Dean spends the last minutes of fresh air sucking down chemicals. It still beats the fake lemon tinge of the floor wax.

 He’s got two more floors worth of hallways ahead of him, and then the main floor’s bathrooms. Dean sighs and watches the smoke drift over the edge of the roof and into the night. He’s grateful for the job, especially since campus jobs are required to work around his class schedule. It’s just the second shift that kills most of his chances at socializing. And stops him from keeping closer tabs on Sam during the school week.

 Which might be for the best, for both of them, these days.

 Dean knows he’s not their dad, but Sam could really stand to listen every now and again. Kid’s smart, of course he is, but Dean doesn’t want him bullshitting his junior year and losing his chance at scholarships.

 Fuck— this isn’t the time to start worrying about this shit. Dean takes the last pull and holds the smoke in his lungs, letting it simmer. He exhales, scrapes the cherry off the end, and tosses the butt into the abyss between buildings. Sammy’d glare at him for littering, but when it’s his crew that’ll be pulling it out of the bushes someday, Dean can’t feel too guilty about it.

 He feels his phone vibrate against his thigh once he’s back inside and he takes the chance to check his messages.

     Cas  

     >>>Kinda a nasty habit  

 Dean instinctively looks over his shoulder, and back into the blinding fluorescence of the physical science building hall. He’s alone. Before he can reply to Cas being a creepy fucker, he gets another message.

     >>>I don’t know if you’ve heard, but it’s not very good for you.  

 Well, at least he knows what he’s getting reprimanded for.

     <<<Yeah, but I look hot doing it  

     <<< call it a wash  

     >>>I doubt your lungs would agree.  

 Dean checks the hall one last time and walks to the stairwell behind the elevators, mostly meant for staff use.

     <<<Why are you still at school?  

     <<<Don’t you usually turn into a pumpkin about this time?  

 He shoves his phone back into his pocket as he marches down to the fourth floor to pick up where he left off. He doesn’t feel a reply until he’s got the scrubber lined up and crawling along. It’s tomorrow before Dean can reply, but he goes to sleep rereading Cas’ last message.

     >>>Working in the library. God has not been so gracious as to turn me into a gourd to save me from the FOUR papers I have this semester.  

     >>>Don’t work too hard. Or give yourself cancer.  

 It’s weird to have somebody besides Sam giving him grief about his health. It almost feels like enough of a nudge to actually listen.

     From the circles it has raced  

       Well my heart is sweating bullets

    Like a little feathered Indian    

     Callin' out the clouds for rain  

 Dean steps through the old wooden doors and does not immediately burst into flames. Sam’s behind him, and Bobby’s behind him. They make their way to one of the back pews, guided by candlelight alone. It’s Christmas Eve, and Dean decided they were going to church for the first time since John’s funeral.

 Amazingly, neither Sam nor Bobby questioned it.

 Dean sits down and tries not to get caught searching the congregation for a specific head of dark hair. Bobby even takes off his hat and reads over the single-sheet program. The shadows cast by the flames turn the room into something otherworldly, both ancient and echoing. An unmistakable strum of an acoustic guitar breaks through the murmuring of the settling crowd. Then Cas’ little brother sings the first verse of Silent Night to start the service.

 Dean doesn’t have anything against God. Besides the usual orphan’s complaints, he supposes. He just doesn’t feel like he has anything to prove to the guy either. As far as he’s concerned, if God minds his own business, Dean will too. But there are those people who look at him funny, like they can see the gutter he dragged him and Sam out of and blame him for it. Like it really matters if he’s poor, or fucks around, or parties.

 Life’s too short not to enjoy it.

 And until God gives him a personal guarantee either way, he’s not changing.

 Those people are just too uptight to see the things Dean enjoys as blessings, not temptations. Sam’s more of an everything-in-moderation type, but that even seems restrictive to Dean. And as long as they're safe and happy—

 An older man stands at the front of the church and begins reading from Luke. The guy has a nasally voice, and it grates against Dean’s ears, but he soon passes the story on to Anna, who is wearing a simple black velvet dress with her hair pulled back.

 They pause in the reading to lead the congregation in a verse of O’ Little Town of Bethlehem. Then Dean sees Cas for the first time. Not singing, but approaching the front of the church from the side aisle. He takes the Bible from Anna and stands with dazed patience as the melody trails off. Dean wipes his palms on his thighs as he mumbles the words he thinks are right, swallowing when Cas starts to read.

 His voice is so much better to listen to than creepy guy’s.

 It’s then that Sam catches up. Dean doesn’t look directly at him, but he FEELS the bitch face he’s getting across the side of his face and down the suddenly tight collar of his dress shirt. It’s uncalled for is what it is, it’s Christmas! Can’t a guy pick a church to go to without an ulterior motive?

 Dean hates that he knows what Sam is going to say already and that he’s probably right. What Sam doesn’t know is that Dean is doing this to get in good with Cas’ family, not just get into Cas’ pants again. But he couldn’t exactly explain that without spilling all of Cas’ secrets, either.

 Dean ignores Sam but misses the end of Cas’ reading. There are a few more songs and more scripture. They close with their heads bowed in prayer, and a simple chime from the organ sends them off, to proceed reflectively and silently into the dark night.

 Their very conveniently placed seats for arrival suddenly are not so helpful as the people fill the aisles and bottleneck at the exits, either for donning their hats and coats, which Dean and company hadn’t bothered hanging up, or for socializing in whispers. Dean feels suddenly scrutinized as boomer after boomer eye him and Sam as fresh meat. He smiles and nods placatingly until he catches Michael’s raised eyebrow.

 Dean is trapped. What was he even thinking— now he is actually going to have to interact with Cas’ family. And not the nice ones.

 Michael lunges forward and grabs Dean’s hand in a tight shake, but takes care to murmur his greeting. “Dean, my man. Glad to see you.”

 Dean squeezes his hand back. “Hey Mikey, this here, uh, is my little brother Sam and my Uncle Bobby.”

 “Fellas,” Michael nods in turn. When Cas approaches and eyes the space between Michael and Dean suspiciously, Michael smirks. “Caught me fraternizing, huh, Castiel?”

 Cas just rolls his eyes before nodding at Dean, his jaw is locked tight.

 They share a glance as the crowd crawls out the back of the sanctuary, but nothing close to the reunion Dean was hoping for after weeks apart. He waits for the Milton-Shurleys to pass and then he follows them outside, completely unaware if Sam and Bobby are following or if they left him to fend for himself.

 Dean keeps his head down, though his heart is in his throat and his stomach is in knots. He came to see Cas and seeing him just makes Dean miss him more. Once outside, he hunches his shoulders against the cold, stepping carefully down the stone stairs. The parking lot is packed with people mingling, despite the late hour and the weather. There’s a row of people waiting to be picked up along the small walkway.

 Dean blows on his bare hands, rubs them together, and looks around, trying to find Sam or Bobby in the crowd. It’s like he’s been transported to an old movie or a Christmas card. Silver Bells’ lyrics run through his head as the snow gently falls on the retreating churchgoers. A throat clears behind him, and he spins, expecting Bobby.

 It’s Cas.

 With apologetic bright eyes, he smiles secretly at Dean. “Hello, Dean.”

 This was all worth it, dragging Sam along, singing carols, and the awkward exchange with Michael. Because Cas is looking at him like he’s a gift and Dean has to swallow and remember to breathe all at once.

 “Heya, Cas. Merry Christmas.” His cheeks prickle, but he can’t get any redder, from cold or blood.

 Cas’ face softens further. “It is, isn’t it?”

 They hold each other’s gaze, ignoring the dwindling crowd and even the rumble of the Impala’s engine as it pulls up beside them on the curb. Cas’ family is climbing into a beat-up van that’s parked in a loading zone. But neither of them really registers any of it. Because even in the darkness, Dean’s green locks on to Cas’ blue and holds tight, like spring leaves reaching towards an afternoon sky.

 “Thank you for—”

 “I should probably-”

 A nervous beat breaks the stalemate and forces them to look away. And all the world rushes back around them. Dean shifts and holds up a finger to signal Sam to button it up before he starts heckling.

 “‘S good to see you, man. Take it easy.”

 Cas reaches out and grips the meat of Dean’s bicep and nods. “Merry Christmas.”

 Dean wants to kiss him so damn bad. Instead, he licks his lips and does them both a favor by stepping back and breaking the contact. He waves at Anna as she approaches, folded in her puffer coat, big eyes full of concern. Impossibly, he walks away.

 Dean doesn’t look back as he crawls into the backseat. Bobby’s got the keys, and there’s no way Sam would forfeit shotgun now. It’s almost two before Dean’s in bed, looking forward to a long weekend of good food and sleeping in. Exhaustion can’t stop him from checking his phone one last time.

 It’s not in vain.

     Cas  

     >>>How would you feel about getting coffee soon?  

     <<<Free now  

     <<<just saying  

     >>> *grinning emoji* Very funny.  

     >>> Monday?  

     <<<Monday! bright n early  

     >>>Until then. * kissy emoji*  

 Dean blushes and cringes in equal measure as he types a simple “x” and darkens his screen. Suddenly he’s very much awake.

     I'd go runnin' through the thicket  

     I'd go careless through the thorns  

     Just to hold her for a minute  

     Though it'd leave me wanting more  

 Coffee gets crashed by Cas’ cousin Gabriel, and though he’s annoying and nosey, he seems to be someone Cas can trust. Then Cas has to drive Michael and their father to the airport the next time they try to schedule something.

 Dean’s getting desperate, but he tries not to let his disappointment show. To top off all of their scheduling conflicts, Cas is taking a winterim course, three credits of work, and knowledge packed into three weeks’ time. Dean is worried he’s coming on too strong, pushing Cas away with his neediness.

     <<<If it doesnt snow maybe we can get lunch on campus tmrw  

 It takes nearly an hour for Cas to reply. Dean does not have a cigarette as he waits, impatiently. He has to stop himself from deleting the text or double texting three different times. Why is he like this?

     >>>I’d love to. Subs or burgers?  

     <<< Burgers!  

     <<< The redder the meat the better  

     >>>Agreed!  

 Dean huffs out a chuckle at Cas’ earnestness.

 <<<Meet you outside your class?

 >>>Sounds good. See you at 12:45

 It snows. From sun up until just before noon. Which means Dean has to work, clearing the sidewalks with one of the plow-fitted ride-on lawnmowers. During breaks, he fills in on the grounds crew to make up for the hours he loses with fewer custodial shifts available. The school’s recruiting brochure brags about the five miles of walking paths on a scenic, green, urban campus. Dean curses every inch of those five miles as he speeds to make it in time to at least tell Cas in person why he has to miss lunch.

 He pushes the engine as hard as he can while taking the time to carefully plow the way from the parking lot to each building. He forgot his headphones and his phone’s tinny speakers do little against the open air, but Dean bobs his head and sings along, trying to keep up some momentum. And fight his growing anxiety.

 The Humanities’ buildings all back up against a small pond and Dean gets to those paths as his phone reaches a glaring 11% battery life. He shuts off his tunes and keeps pressing forward, only thirty minutes or so to get done.

 He’s gonna make it. He has to. Even if he only gets a thirty-minute break and getting back to the Union will take ten of it, he’s going to get to see Cas. One-on-one, finally.

  Dean plows and backs up and plows some more. He clears the loop around the pond and kills the engine just outside the nearest side entrance to the History building. It’s 12:48 and Dean is swiping his staff badge to get inside quicker. He stomps his boots clean before charging up the steps to the second floor and nearly runs smack into Cas as he turns toward the discussion rooms. Cas apologizes without looking up at first, clearly irritated.

 Dean grabs him by the upper arm and makes Cas see him, however late. Dean made it. He’s sweaty, and his nose is freezing, but Dean beams as Cas’ eyes take him in.

 “Hey, sorry, I—”

 “Yeah, I just made it. Sorry, I’m on the clock.”

 Cas squints and closes his distractingly chapped lips. “I see.”

 “Got time for a quick lunch, if you’re still game?” Dean cocks his head down to the stairs and holds his breath.

 “It’d be a bit brief for a first date, don’t you think?” Cas asks, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder.

 Dean licks his lips because he knows he’s got to salvage this. “This is just the pre-date. The real date will be longer— better.” He sighs and steps closer. “Maybe we can hash out the details over lunch?”

 Dean ducks to meet Cas’ reluctant gaze, giving his best hopeful eyes. Castiel looks at Dean and sighs with his whole being.

 “Okay, burgers?”

 Dean slaps him on the shoulder and holds on. “Burgers!”

 They ride to the Union on the lawn mower with the plow raised for safety, Dean speeding on the nearly abandoned pavement, and Cas holding on to the back, grinning like a fool.

       Hold me close my dear  

     Sing your whispering song  

     Softly in my ear  

     And I will sing along  

 They've managed a handful of stolen moments since. And now, Cas is over at his place, attempting to watch football while not overtly flirting in front of Sam.

            Their first date was indeed longer, but finding time and location that had both access and anonymity was difficult. The Italian food left much to be desired, though Dean couldn't ask for better company. Miraculously, Cas asked him out for a second date, and the movie wasn't bad.

 Sam is not buying it.  "You guys know you don't have to babysit me, right?"

Dean looks at Sam and silently begs him to not be a bitch. "What are you talking about? I wanna watch the game."

 Sam cocks his head. "Who’s playing, Dean?"

 Dean looks at the TV and tries to figure out the teams by their helmets and initials on the score at the bottom.

 "That's what I thought. Go fool around, or whatever it is you keep stopping yourselves from doing. I get it," Sam clips out the last t's.

Dean pushes up off the couch, hovering over his seat as he looks at Cas and smirks.

 Cas’ eyes go wide, but he nods, his lips hollowed out in query. Dean nods towards the back of the trailer and heads down the hallway without another word, away from Sam and to the thinnest illusion of privacy. He feels Cas follow but doesn’t see his fisted hands at his sides.

 The hollow door latches loosely closed behind them.

 Dean turns on Cas instantly. Before he even realizes he chose to, he’s cupping a nape, and his mouth is catching Cas’ on the uptake. Both open and filthy. Dean feels Cas exhale into him, feels his body still and his hands perch on Dean’s shoulders delicately.

 Dean grins into the kiss and presses closer into Cas’ space. Tries to unbury that toga-clad energy from Halloween. However sober, Dean knows it's in there.

 All while getting them closer to the bed.

 Cas sighs and grips Dean tighter. Pushes in with his chin forward and gives back. Dean sucks his tongue into his mouth and moans at the thick, heavy wetness.

 Fuck, he’s hungry.

 Dean stagger steps them towards the far wall, which makes the bed less than three feet away, but for some reason, they can’t stop kissing long enough to get there. It’s like depleting oxygen tanks or the last slurp of soda at the bottom of the cup. They need to kiss until they’ve gotten all of each other, desperate and determined; they taste.

 Until they start to laugh.

 Dean feels Cas chuckle, hunching his shoulders as they peck around giddy smiles.

 “What’s so funny, hm?” Dean asks, looking down at Cas’ scrunched-up nose as he tries to pull away.

 Cas just shakes his head and hauls Dean by the waist, kisses him again, and notches their thighs tighter. And okay, Dean is all about that, but he still feels like he’s missing something, but he doesn’t really think too hard about it with all the friction.

 Then the floor is out from under his feet, and Cas is on top of him, half off the bed and growling against his neck. Dean huffs and giggles. Because, damn. He should have had his guard up. Luckily Coach Sonny wasn’t here to see that, because that was a solid takedown and Dean let it happen.

 Dean catches his breath, slides his hand under Cas’ sweater and squeezes.

 Cas freezes and glares. Dean looks back under his lashes, challenging.

 “Ticklish, Cas?”

 “No, but I know you are— that , I remember,” Cas replies as he slides up and pulls Dean’s hands above his head. Dean stretches out, slinking further up the bed and Cas follows, fucking stalking up his body with heated determination.

 Dean swallows and goes for broke. “You gonna lose the Sunday best? Been dying to see you— feel you.”

 Dean looks Cas up and down, crumpled and creased. His starched khakis do little to hide his desire, even in the gray afternoon light of Dean’s one-windowed room.

 Cas rears back, kneeling on the bed between Dean’s legs and yanks the thick crocheted sweater over his back. It leaves his hair messy, but Dean’s too busy watching the way his shoulders flex as he pulls his arms out of the sleeves.

 Cas balls up the shirt and tosses it in the corner, shrugging as if to say, ‘and?’

 Dean rolls his eyes but scoots to sitting and starts unbuttoning his flannel. Castiel plays with Dean’s necklaces until it’s time to take off his t-shirt. And now that he’s got Cas in his lap, topless, Dean’s a little shy about his own bare torso. He’s not exactly super-defined or anything. He knows his strength, but he likes to eat, okay? Being poor you don’t skip meals unless you have to.

 He’s kicking himself for not letting Sammy talk him into matching tattoos. Any tattoo automatically makes you hotter. But the kid’s got another two years before Dean could get him into a legit parlor anyway. He inhales and ducks out of his shirt, and immediately surges up to restart making out, unwilling to watch Cas see him just yet.

 Cas’ hands roam Dean’s back, groping and kneading, dexterous and distracting.

 Dean gets lost in the fog of want, too tight in the pants to dwell on his shirtlessness. Then Cas cups his jaw and pulls back to look him in the eyes. Insistent, imploring blue.

 “Can we turn on some music?”

 Which was not, at all, what Dean was expecting Cas to ask him in that moment.

 Dean laughs and nods. But Cas keeps talking, “it’s just I know we’re probably louder than we realize. And with a younger sibling within earshot— I’d feel better if we— at least pretended—”

 Dean kisses Cas, shutting him up. “Dude, yes.” Peck. “I’ve got tunes.” Peck. “Just give me a sec.”

 Dean carefully unwraps himself from Cas’ body, giddy and grinning over all the skin he can see and finally feel . He pulls out the thigh of his jeans, trying to create room as he half stumbles and half struts to the bookcase and the ancient boombox he found at the Goodwill that has a double tape deck and a six-disc changer.

 He had been making compilation tapes during his downtime before spring classes start, and had intended to make one for each year to give the impala some diversity without letting Sam use his damn phone all the time. He just pushes play on the last finished tape. The old hiss from recording from vinyl starts and the room is filled with the crooning of Tommy James and the Shondells.

 When Dean turns around Cas’ head is cocked and he’s resting back on his palms, broad chest and strong arms on display. Dean wants to crawl into his lap and pink up his lips some more. But, ever the little shit, instead he unbuckles his belt and drops trow, kicking out of his pants and making Cas’ eyes bulge like a treefrog.

 Cas licks his lips and sits up, trying to open his fly and watch Dean step closer at the same time. If there’s one thing Dean knows it’s the art of distraction, and if his dick is out, there’s less chance Cas is gonna be staring at his softer-than-he’d-like torso.

 He grabs Cas by the back of the neck and leans down to kiss him filthy, kneeing between Cas’ legs as he feels Cas’ shaking hands find his hips. Dean smiles into the kiss and slows it down, pulling back to watch Cas’ lids flutter open, dopey and bright.

 “Wanna see you— can I?” Dean gestures down to Cas’ khakis and instantly draws attention back to his ruddy cock. Cas mumbles something but then nods, sitting taller and leaning back, forcing himself to look away as Dean sinks to the floor.

 He starts with Cas’ shoes and then his socks, and sees Cas flex his toes before falling fully onto his back on Dean’s bed. Dean drags himself back up and pulls open Cas’ pants, hands snaking beneath his thighs and tugging the fabric as Cas rocks from side to side. Dean looks him over, strong runner’s legs and dark hair, flat stomach, and messy hair. Fuck! If Dean didn’t know he went every which way already, he’d be so screwed. Castiel is gorgeous, and Dean’s got him in his bed naked as a jaybird.

 Happy early birthday, Dean thinks to himself and sets his hands alongside Cas’ waist to crawl up the miles of skin, trying not to stare at Cas’ fat dick that's hard and leaking for him.

 “I don’t want you to penetrate me,” Cas blurts out of nowhere.

 Dean stops in his tracks. “Uh, wasn’t even close to that yet, buddy. But, okay. That’s fine.”

 Dean looks down at their laps and then away, resting back on his heels, needing Cas’ to say more or even look at him. Cas’ eyes are shut tight, and he’s rubbing the bridge of his nose. Dean feels his anxiety in the air, so he starts rubbing Cas’ thigh and waits.

 And does not touch his own dick, even though it’s begging for any sort of contact.

 “Cas?” Dean asks after a solid two minutes of tense silence. “Is this your first time?”

 Dean knee-walks to Cas’ side and tries to pry his hands from hiding his face. “Because it’s totally okay if it is. I, uh, I haven’t really done much with guys— and I’m just excited we’re finally getting a chance to be alone— and all that.”

 Cas sighs and glares at Dean.

 Dean drops his chin and glares back. “What’s that for?”

 “You are being completely understanding, and I really don’t need another reason to like you,” Cas explains.

 “Thanks?” Dean guesses a polite response.

 Cas rolls his eyes and sits up, apparently unaffected by his own nakedness. He reaches for Dean’s hand and fiddles with his mother’s ring. “Can we go back to the kissing? I can handle that, and it’s goo—”

 Dean doesn’t let Cas talk himself into more embarrassment. Yeah, the kissing is good, great even. But Dean doesn’t want Cas worrying either. So he lays them both down, on their sides, knees knocking and dicks not quite touching. The heat between them lays in concentrated hollows, making the rest of them pucker in the winter air.

 Dean cups Cas’ jaw and runs his thumb along his cheekbone. “You okay?”

 Cas holds his wrist and husks out, “yeah. You?”

 Dean breathes out a single laugh. “Yeah, I’m pretty effin’ okay.”

 Dean kisses Cas’ chin, and nudges down to kiss along the underside of his jaw until he can suck on his pulse point. Cas’ breath hitches and Dean goes for broke, sliding his pelvis across the neutral zone they’d silently negotiated, in search of progress and the throbbing relief of the press of flesh against flesh.

 Cas moans and Dean reaches down and grabs a handful of Cas’ ass. Then he rolls them both so Dean’s on the bottom and Cas is the one in control. Cas licks into Dean’s mouth and grinds down, feeling the way their dicks slide together between their bellies.

 “What do you like?” Cas asks suddenly, hips rolling long and languid as Dean squirms and pecks at the parts of Cas he can reach.

 Dean looks up at Cas and smirks. “Do your worst. We can try whatever you want to try first.”

 Cas stills and bites his lips. “Are you sure?”

 Dean spreads his legs and feels Cas fall harder against him. “Yeah, it’s okay, just see how it goes. No stress—- this is supposed to be fun.”

 Cas nods seriously and kisses Dean’s cheek. “Thank you, Dean.”

 He looks down at their bodies, nestled and sticky, their dicks have been impossibly patient. “I’m not sure about the taste of semen. Do you mind if I taste you?”

 “Do I mind?” Dean stares slack-jawed and appalled. “No, I do not mind. Fucking taste away, Cas, Christ. Blow jobs are only some of the best things humans have invented, up there with music and pizza.”

 “Hmmmm, I may have to ask you to prove your hypothesis, but—.” Cas clears his throat. “Later.”

 Then he inches down Dean’s body and takes Dean’s dick firmly in hand. He traces the head with the pad of his thumb, making Dean whine as he tugs the skin of the shaft, watching carefully as more precum beads at the slit. With a flattened tongue, Cas laps the head of Dean’s dick and Dean goes cross-eyed watching him.

 Still holding Dean’s shaft, Cas starts licking Dean like an ice cream cone, and it’s not bad, it’s just very apparent the guy has never watched porn. Dean moans and starts rolling his hips, trying to at least get some stroking going on if Cas isn’t gonna take him into his mouth fully.

 When Cas starts to mirror Dean’s movements, Dean husks, “yeah, now, uh, can you suck on it? You don’t have to take it all, just start slow.”

 Cas watches Dean’s face as he holds the tip of Dean’s dick on his bottom lip and mouths around the girth. If he wasn’t so worried, Dean might have laughed, but Cas’ bright-eyed earnestness is making it hard for Dean to keep talking him through it.

 “Okay, now try and use your tongue, like we’re kissing,” Dean offers. “And take a little more in.”

 Cas obliges, words buzzing around his mouth as he asks, “like that?”

 Dean nods, licks and bites his bottom lip as Cas rolls his tongue and squeezes with his lips.

 “Suck, Cas, and bob,” Dean says, trying to stay still as Cas finds something like a rhythm.

 He pulls off breathless, but smiles. “Your dick is quite big— I, uh, I have to try again.”

 Dean chuckles. “Hey, look who’s talking, that monster between your legs is gonna be a full meal.”

 Cas blushes, but grabs Dean by the base and takes him even deeper. Dean’s starting to throb, the storm in his belly makes him thrust against Cas’ efforts, but he forces himself to keep it shallow.

 “You’re doing so good, babe, sucking me so good,” Dean murmurs, voice pitching higher with each wave of pleasure.

 Cas groans around Dean’s dick, tonguing the underneath as he dips his head down and up, down and up, dooooown and up. Dean’s right on the edge when Cas starts to gag. Dean catches himself a second too late from whining in defeat, but he gets Cas upright and coughing before it can go beyond repair.

 “Just breathe, it’s okay,” Dean says, watching Cas for any signs of regret or vomit.

 Cas clears his throat and takes big breaths through his nose, eyes wide with alarm.

 Dean hugs him around the shoulders and just squeezes until everything evens out. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his lips along Cas’ hairline and waits it out.

 “Sorry,” Cas gasps out.

 “Sorry? Don’t be sorry— you don’t apologize for going whole ham on me like that, okay? We’re figuring shit out. There’s a learning curve to this, too, you know.” Dean says firmly, not making Cas face him just yet.

 Cas chuckles mirthlessly. “I do now.”

 Cas side eyes him sheepishly, but Dean just smiles and waggles his eyebrows. Cas rolls his eyes but lightens up the more Dean goads him with flirty faces.

 Dean kisses him softly, hands brushing over Cas’ face and down his neck until they start leaning back towards the pillows. Dean thinks about the skin mags shoved beneath his mattress and the lube he’s got in an old shoe box beneath that. He thinks about how none of that feels like this.

 Having Cas here, to himself, has been the true fantasy since Halloween. But this is real, and it’s happening. And Dean isn’t going to waste it.

 “Do you touch yourself?” Dean murmurs.

 Cas exhales and stretches back against the covers. “Sometimes, but I don’t have much privacy for anything elaborate.”

 Dean guessed as much.

 “How do you like it?” Dean asks as he reaches for Cas’ dick, just a gentle tug as if he’s gripping his shoulder in passing.

 “Harder,” Cas sighs, eyes cautious.

 Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes and squeezes as he starts to pump, leaning on his side as he watches Cas relax into his touch. He stops and licks his palm and over the pads of his fingers, easing the slide against Cas’ thickness.

 Cas groans at the wetness. “Faster, Dean.”

 Dean speeds up, dropping his free hand on Cas’ flat stomach and down to the ridge of his pelvis poking out. He keeps Cas’ face in his periphery but focuses his attention on the gorgeous body before him and the fat cock in his hand.

 “You’re so fucking hot like this,” Dean says, mesmerized by the straining muscles and the throbbing heat. “Wanna get you there, Cas. Let me?”

 Cas moans Dean’s name over the sound of CCR’s steady opening to Proud Mary.

 Dean kisses Cas’ chest and reaches down to cup his balls, stroking faster, careful to swipe the tip for a more natural glide. Dean looks over his shoulder and sees Cas watching him.

 “Like this?” Dean asks, voice as wrecked as Cas looks. Cas whimpers and bends in half around Dean’s hold, coming hot and hard all over Dean’s bed and hands.

 “Shit!”

 Dean almost giggles because Cas never swears. He strokes Cas through it, easing until Cas is whining from the contact. Dean kisses Cas’ shoulder and tugs the comforter out from under them, careful to avoid the mess and wipe his hands off at the same time.

 With just the sheets left on the bed, Dean falls beside Cas. Cradling him into the curve of his body, Dean tries to avoid direct ass-to-dick contact. He doesn’t want Cas to panic again.

 “You have incredibly strong hands,” Cas mutters into the pillows.

 Dean looks down and flexes his fingers. He’s never thought about his hands much, but he guesses Cas must be right. Years of working molded him into a very different animal from Cas, whose life is all Bible studies and textbooks.

 “You’re welcome,” Dean teases.

 Cas laughs, breathy and tender.

 Dean kisses his temple, gripping his chest and pulling him closer. They lay in the comfort of each other’s arms, letting the mixtape run out as they spoon and joke, eventually twisting beneath the top sheet.

 “When do you need to be home,” Dean asks against Cas’ chest, too content to even raise his head.

 “Don’t remind me,” Cas replies, reaching off the bed for his phone all the same. “Ugh! Probably should leave soon.”

 “How soon is soon?” Dean asks, sitting up while keeping the sheet bunched around his half-hard cock.

 “Seventeen minutes,” Cas replies offhandedly until he glances apologetically to Dean and starts to crawl out of bed.

 “Uh, where do you think you’re going?! I still get your naked ass in my bed for      at least    another ten minutes.” Dean grabs Cas’ elbow and drags him down on top of him.

 Cas smirks at Dean’s determination and shakes his head, snuggling closer. Then his hips slot against Dean’s poorly hidden erection.

 Dean hums noncommittally.

 Cas grinds down again, and Dean whines as he feels Cas’ growing interest.

 “Fuck! We really don’t have much time, man,” Dean warns, rocking against Cas. Cas yanks the sheet away, leaving Dean bare beneath him.

 “Next time,” Dean promises. “We’ll do more than the surface stuff, alright? Now I just want to feel you.”

 Cas nods, mouthing up Dean’s neck as they grip each other and stroke in incongruous rhythms.

 “I’m going to have to sit through dinner still smelling you on my skin,” Cas thinks out loud.

 “Good! Want you thinking about me while those assholes play house. Want you knowing I’ll be thinking about you— your mouth— your dick in my hands— in me— however you want, Cas.”

 Castiel gasps, but his hand moves faster on Dean’s shaft. “You want to take me?”

 “Cas!” Dean warns, too strung out after hours of build-up.

 “Dean,” Cas’ voice drops like a reprimand and Dean comes all over both of their stomachs.

 Too blissed out to keep jacking Cas off, Dean groans and then wiggles down to mouth at Cas’ dick. Half wild and desperate, Dean sucks Cas into the back of his throat.

 Cas, who is dumbfounded by Dean’s actions, keens at the new sensation of mouth and tongue and then comes again within moments. Dean doesn’t know if Cas is aware of how hungry he still is for him until he feels Cas tense when Dean catches Cas watching him lick his own spendings off Cas’ stomach.

 Cas twitches and moans a warbly, “oh, Lord!” They both freeze at his blasphemy.

 Dean looks up at him through heavy lashes, and Cas simply stares back. Dean kisses just below Cas’ navel and sits up, knees framing Cas’ thighs.

 “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Dean rockets off the bed and throws a towel around his hips. But he realizes he’s still a mess, so he tugs it up around his chest. He opens the door and quickly ducks out, closing it tight behind him.

 He rushes to grab an extra towel and a washcloth from the bathroom between his and Sam’s rooms. Dean’s gone less than three minutes, but in the moments they’re apart, he starts to worry that it was too much too soon.

 Dean doesn’t know if he can go back from this now. If he can keep it strictly PG since he’s gotten to truly worship Cas’ body. Now that he knows how it feels to just      be     in his presence, the connection, the comfort. Dean misses him already.

 He wipes off his belly and rinses out the cloth and adds some hand soap for good measure. He clutches the fresh towel to his chest and rushes back to his door, knocking.

 “It’s me,” he says and slips inside.

               Honey tell me how your love runs true

      And how I can always count on you

     To be there when the bullets fly  

     I'd run across the river just to hold you tonight  

 Dean sits in the impala, anxious. Cas is coming to dinner. And not just at the trailer with Sammy. He’s been personally invited to Seder by Uncle Rufus. And well, to say that’s a big deal is an understatement.

 Bobby and Rufus have been a thing as long as Dean can remember. From what he gathers, since the mid-80s after Bobby’s wife, Karen, passed and they met at a grief support group. The way the men always bickered, it took Dean into his teen years to realize how and how deeply they loved one another.

 Their home was probably the safest place for Dean to come to terms with his own varying sexuality. And after John disappeared for good, they were the only family he and Sam had left.

     The months with Cas start to fly by, between their ever-increasing class loads and the necessity of sneaking around, it’s spring before either of them realize it. Actual spring, not whatever the school tries to pass for it giving its spring break in mid-March, either.

 Dean knows Cas is curious about Rufus’ faith, among other things. He just hopes Cas’ blunt inquisitiveness isn’t met with mockery. He exhales and counts down the minutes until Cas is out of his last class of the day. He wonders what excuse Cas gave his parents for missing dinner with the family.

 He hates having to be a secret.

 With Cas’ family being so prominent and his father’s business at stake, Cas knows he has to lay low until he’s done with school. Because he’s on a scholarship for one thing, and another he doesn’t want to hurt his siblings or bring further scrutiny on them. Anna especially has had many struggles with mental illness that she’s had to fight without professional help because their parents insist it's a matter of faith and devotion, not brain chemistry.

 Dean has to bite his tongue so often that he’s gotten used to the taste of his own blood. But this is not his battle to fight. He’s there as backup only. He lets Cas lead the way, which he always does with compassion. Even when Cas is asked to pray at services Dean’s attended or the occasional family meal, Cas always prays for the lost or the less fortunate. He believes in the love of God in a way his parents and their judgment never could.

 He’d probably make a good priest, or pastor, whatever. Dean wonders which churches even let gay people be ordained. He bets there are some out there. He wants that for Cas, for him to find true community someday. Something like the crotchety old guys who wouldn’t pass for queer until they’re caught kissing in the toolshed. The type of safety and home Dean’s had the better half of his life.

 But he’ll do it and keep doing it as long as it keeps Cas safe. Cas told him about what happens when queer people are exposed within his family’s circle of friends, or anyone, really not willing to fully conform. Either the kids, because they’re usually too young to be able to fend for themselves, are sent to those awful camps. Or the entire family is blacklisted. Jobs are lost and all sources of charity or socializing suddenly dry up. Then they have to start over, somewhere else.

 Faith is something too commercial and too big for Dean to grasp most days. But he likes the ritual of it all, the tradition and the history. He knows Cas will love Rufus’ Seder. He just hopes Rufus and Bobby like Cas, too.

 “Hello, Dean,” comes Cas’ standard greeting as he pries open the door.

 “Heya, handsome. How was class?” Dawn checks his mirror and waits for the parking lot to clear as Cas tells him about his day. They hold hands across the bench seat because it’s dark enough for it to be hidden from any passersby.

 It’s a long drive this time of night, rush hour pushing them past sundown, which Dean knows will earn him a reprimand. But he’s not worried about himself. Sam was with Bobby helping out at the garage for some part-time money, so Dean knows at least they’ll be on time for dinner.

 Rufus will just have to deal with them crashing in.

 When they pull up to the well-worn bungalow, Dean takes his hand back to kill the engine and wipe his palms off on his thighs.

 “So, uh, this is Rufus and Bobby’s place. Dinner’s probably already started— so we’ll just go in quietly, especially if they’re singing. Neither of the bastards can carry a tune— but it’s tradition, so.”

 “Understandable, as you know, I’m not one to judge someone’s singing voice,” Cas even self-deprecates with empathy.

 “Okay, but, before we head in, can I?” Dean leans in and kisses his boyfriend without waiting for an answer. Cas slides closer across the seat and enters Dean’s mouth, thoroughly agreeing with the further delay.

 Dean breaks the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead against Cas’ as they both regain their composure.

 “Dean?”

 “Yeah?”

 “We should go inside.”

 “Yeah, I know— I just—.” Dean squeezes Cas’ forearm and searches his eyes in the darkness of the car.

 “I missed you, too,” Cas says softly, eyes big and hand warm against Dean’s cheek.

 They kiss once more for good measure and head inside.

   All things considered, it was a good night. Cas’ cheeks are flushed from the wine, and he’s grinning as Sam and Bobby regale him with the story of Dean’s last significant other to make it long enough to attend a family gathering, Cassie.

Except Cassie hadn’t been invited to Sam’s birthday dinner, she just showed up.

 “So get this— we’re grilling out back— about to start a game of two-hand touch with a bunch of middle school guys and —,” Sam sets the scene.

 And Bobby cuts in gesturing wildly, “a flipping diva. Hair out to here, walks in.”

 “She had more makeup on than I’ve seen on professional drag queens,” Rufus adds as he clears their dishes.

 “Okay, let’s be nice,” Dean interjects. “It was bad timing— I’ll give you that.”

 “It was weird, Dean! It was my party. I was twelve!” Sam argues.

 Cas chuckles and watches Dean as he shrugs, Dean ducks his head and tries to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Anyway, this is better, right? See!” Dean asks everyone with   insistent eyes. ‘Don’t embarrass him like you’re dragging her,’ he   silently begs.

 “Much,” Sam agrees. “But I already know Cas– more or less.”

 “What is it you’re going to school for again?” Bobby asks carefully, popping some leftover matza into his mouth. Dean only eats the stuff when he has to, but Bobby doesn’t let any go to waste. The conversation flows easily and before long Cas needs to get home.

 “Thank you so much Mr. Turner for having me— I hope the second night goes just as well for you all.” Castiel shakes Rufus’ hand.

 Rufus preens under all the attention, earring sparkling in the glow from the front porch light. “I’m sorry you can’t make it, but there’s always next year, am I right?”

 Cas, clearly surprised, smiles all the same. Dean scratches the back of his neck and waits for the goodbyes to be over.

 “Alright, young man, drive safe,” Rufus says to Dean. He can’t remember Rufus ever using his actual name. He’s always ‘hey you’, ‘punk’, or if he’s been on his best behavior, ‘young man’.

 Dean shakes Rufus’ hand and leans in for a quick hug. Sam follows behind shaking hands and nodding his gratitude.

 Dean glances at Sam to sit in the backseat as they make their way down the driveway. Sam pretends to think about it, the sacrifice of giving up shotgun is a pretty big deal when it comes to being sixteen in your brother’s legacy car.

 But before it gets too noticeable that they are silently arguing, Sam relents and lets Cas have the cherished spot. Dean isn’t impressed, but he mouths a ‘thank you’, though it could be interpreted another way. He slides into the driver’s seat and grins over at Cas. Cas smiles knowingly back, and Dean cranks the volume.

 They don’t kiss goodnight, and not just for Sam’s sake either. It’s just too rushed, and Cas has to transform back into the stoic machine he is around his family. Dean hates these moments the most. Not just parting with Cas but watching him bury so much of himself.

 “Thanks for the ride,” Cas says sadly before ducking out of the open passenger side door. He nods to Sam and marches dutifully up his front steps. Dean ignores Sam when he turns down the music and settles into the front seat. Something pulls at Dean’s insides, but he stays put watching Cas. Then Cas turns around, waves, and opens the door to return to that damned prison.

 Dean slowly blinks back to reality and puts the car into gear. He drives home on autopilot and Sam’s smart enough to leave him to his thoughts. When he gets home, Dean reworks some details on a design for his automation class. Then tries to get ahead on some reading for a seminar he’s taking. Nothing sticks, but maybe it will come back when he needs it.

 Guess he’s an optimist now.

        A week later, Dean chances a phone call when he knows Cas will still be on campus, but out of the obligation of any classroom.

“Hey— this is stupid—- but I was wondering if you— maybe— like this summer— when the semester is over, and classes aren’t so crazy—- I talked to Sam and he’s cool with it if you help out. But like— no pressure or anything—- and only if you wanted to. It would be awesome. So, do you think—- maybe— you’d like to move in with me? I mean with us?” Dean hadn’t rambled this long since he tried to talk their way out of a parking ticket for a passed-out John, in middle school.

 He must have lost oxygen to his brain because when he hears Cas on the other end of the line, it’s only a thready plea of his name.

 “No, listen, I know you’ve got your scholarship shit, but you can get grants and a job at the student aid office or tutor for money or something. They can’t stop you from finishing school—- they can only make it a little bit worse. But everything else can be better, Cas, I swear.” Dean wasn’t supposed to be so desperate about this, but he really wants Cas to be happy. Well, safe and out and happy, but still.

 “Dean—- we’ve only been dating for a few months,” Cas sighs. “They’re my family forever.”

 “They don’t have to be,” Dean says without thinking. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and then rubs his forehead with the back of the hand that’s holding the phone. “Not like you have to cut ties with them or anything— but, uh— well, Bobby’s always said family don’t end in blood. So, you know— you’ve got options.”

 The seconds of silence coming from Cas’ side of the call last into the next century.

 “And what happens if we break up, Dean?’ Cas doesn’t sound upset, but he still isn’t sold on anything.

 Dean wasn’t expecting to go down that particular trail of possibility, and he flounders for a response. Both hurt and worried that Cas would think so little of him, of them.

 Dean looks around the trailer’s living/dining/kitchen area and wonders what this could look like to Castiel’s eyes. He thought it was freedom, but maybe it’s just a trash hole to him like it was to the wrestling team and half of Dean’s exes.

“We’re both really young to be making such decisions,” Cas adds lightly.

 “Look— I just want you to be happy. Are you happy, Cas?” Dean lays it out.

 Cas exhales and shifts on the line, Dean can practically hear the gears in his head whirling a mile a minute. When he doesn’t answer, Dean presses on.

 “Do you think you could be happy with me?”

 “That’s not fair,” Cas counters. “You know this isn’t just about me. Would you leave Sam behind if it meant you could be happy?”

 Dean locks his jaw, bitter and righteous. “No, but–”

 “I may not be responsible for my siblings the way you are for Sam, but I do love them, Dean.”

 “I know.” Dean feels it all slipping away from him. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make it better. He wishes he could take the entire conversation back.

 “For what it’s worth—- when I’m with you—- that’s the happiest I’ve ever been.”

 Dean pinches the tears out of his eyes and bleats out something like a chuckle. “Yeah, well, that’s great.”

 “Dean?”

 “Hm?”

 “Do you work tonight?” It’s such an innocent question it throws Dean for a loop.

 He looks at the clock on the microwave and sighs. “Uh, yeah, got like an hour before Sam’ll be home and then I’ll head in after we eat.”

 “What are you making?” Cas’ voice is soothing, and Dean hates him for being able to distract him like this because it’s fucking working.

 “Uh, just hotdogs and beans—- didn’t want to make a huge mess.”

 “Because it’s on Sam to clean up and he’s probably got homework,” Cas concludes.

 “Didn’t want him to leave it for me in the morning is all,” Dean reasons.

 “Of course,” Cas agrees, knowing Dean’s thought process better than Dean would like.

 “How late is the library open?” Dean turns the curiosity back on Cas.

 “Ten, you know that: why?”

 Dean shrugs though Cas can’t see him. “Was hoping to see you, maybe, if you’ll still be there when my shift starts.”

 “Okay.”

   Castiel is waiting for Dean in the parking lot closest to the Macleod Library. He walks him to the maintenance staff office so Dean’s not late for his shift. They shake hands and pat each other on the back goodnight. Just guys being bros.

Dean doesn’t mention the sheet of folded-up paper Cas passes  him. It’s just a time and place, but it brightens Dean’s mood better  than any placation or even kiss probably could at that moment.

 His shift has never been longer.

 Just before dawn, Dean finds Cas right where he had said he’d be. On one of the stone benches lining the small pond on Cas’ department’s side of campus.

 “Hello, Dean.”

 “Got your note— a bit cryptic— but I chose to interpret it like a middle school note— do you like me? Check yes or no.” Dean saunters closer, his hands fit around Cas’ hips beneath where his hands are wedged into his pockets.

 “What are you checking?”

 Dean kisses him because they are alone and because it’s his answer. Cas hums and pulls back. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

 Dean rolls his eyes at the lame joke, but kisses him again, deeper and more forceful until they both have to pull apart for air, grinning and giddy.

 “How was work?” Cas presents one of his hands for Dean to thread their fingers together.

“Work— but I managed to get through. Might have been a little distracted.”

 “Sorry about that,” Cas smiles mischievously.

 “No, you’re not,” Dean murmurs against his temple, kissing him softly. “What’s up?”

 Dean is dead on his feet, but he won’t be able to sleep until Cas tells him what all this build-up was for. Cas goes still, but he stays close.

 “I wanted to tell you something—- and ask you for a favor,” Cas explains carefully, not making eye contact.

 Dean watches the side of his face but aims for casualness. “Okay, a little dramatic, but shoot.”

 Cas does face him then, eyes bright and brows high in hope or apology, Dean’s not sure. “It’s about your offer— sort of.”

 Dean waits, but his palm is getting sweaty underneath Cas’ insistent grip.

 “I want to be with you. I do. But since I can’t—- fully— until I graduate and Samandriel is an adult—- I want to promise to be true to you until we can both be our real selves.”

 Dean squints and looks at Cas.

 “Are you breaking up with me?”

 Cas glares. “You are an idiot. Are you seriously so tired right now that you interpreted me pledging myself to you as me breaking up with you?!”

 Dean doesn’t know what to say, so he puts on his best adorable apology face, essentially saying ‘I’m dumb but pretty.’

 Cas rolls his eyes.

 “You’re impossible.”

 Dean reaches up to hold Cas’ face with both hands. “That’s already where I’ve been, Cas. That’s all relationships are— loyalty and devotion.”

 Cas leans into Dean’s touch. “No, Dean. Maybe it’s not common in the secular world. But promising ourselves to each other is kind of a big deal with the people of my church.”

 Dean drops his hands and steps back. “Are you proposing?”

 “No-o,” Cas says it like it’s a question.

 Dean grabs his hair and has a mini freak-out. But turns back and looks Cas in the eye even though he’s terrified. “Holy shit, you’re proposing.”

 “Dean, I’m not proposing,” Cas says more sternly.

 “And you were freaking out about me asking you to move in together.”

 “To be fair, moving in together doesn’t happen in my experience until after marriage.”

 “Yeah, but like half the people you know don’t even kiss before marriage,” Dean snarks.

 Cas grimaces, but nods. Dean leans back in. “We’ve done a helluva lot more than kiss.”

 “Your point?” Cas asks with a fragile sort of firmness.

 Dean laces his hands behind Cas’ neck. “You are proposing.”

 Cas, once again, rolls his eyes and tugs Dean closer by one of his front pockets. “Call it a pre-engagement if you must, but only if you swear to it, too.”

 All the teasing leaves Dean’s body. Instead, he breathes deep and stares into Cas’ hesitant eyes. “I love you, you know that right? I mean— we don’t say it, but you know that about me.”

 Cas softens in Dean’s arms, nodding as tears start to build in the corners of his gorgeous eyes.

 “I’m yours, Cas. As long as it takes, okay?”

 Cas swallows thickly and grins. “Okay.”

 Dean looks down at Cas’ hands and between their bodies. “I feel unprepared for this.”

 Cas cocks his head. “What are you talking about?”

 Dean flexes his fingers and spots his solution. “I feel like I should be giving you something.”

 “Dean, it’s not like I brought you anything.”

 But Dean’s already untying one of his necklaces. It’s made of rough leather with a few beads knotted onto it. He bought it because he thought it was the right colors for the bisexual flag, but there’s a green one that throws off his reasoning.

 “Here,” Dean insists, taking his mother’s ring off his right hand and threading it down the twine. “That should work— long enough to hide it, but still with you at all times.”

 Cas doesn’t speak, just swallows and nods, turning so Dean can tie it on. Cas cradles the metal loop against his chest like he’s making the pledge all over again.

 Dean beams at him, never realizing how satisfying it’d be to call Cas his. To have a claim on him, and his heart.

 “Looks good on ya.”

 “Thank you, Dean. I’ll— I’ll think of something to give you. Okay?”

 Dean nods, hugging Cas close and whispering in his ear, “we’ve got plenty of time for that, okay?”

 “We do, don’t we?” Cas grins his nose-scrunching grin and kisses Dean with more teeth than tongue.

    Six years later

The arena is packed with people, families and friends filling the lower levels for the first round of afternoon graduations. Dean scans the crowd looking for Bobby and Rufus because, frankly, he’s sick of telling people the seats on either side of him are taken.

 Then there’s the guy one chair over who won’t stop announcing that his cousin is getting his doctorate and how cute it is that Dean’s kid brother is only getting his bachelor’s. Dean isn’t going to let him bate him, it’s neither the time nor the place. But he clenches his fist anyway, just for something to pass the time.

Finally, Dean spots Rufus stiff-arming his way through the  masses. He doesn’t say, “move, I’m gay.” But Dean imagines he is. Once  they’re within earshot, he realizes Rufus is playing another card  entirely.

“Senior citizens coming through!”

 Dean picks up his coat and stands up to shake his uncles’ hands.

 “Have trouble finding the place?” Dean teases.

 “Don’t get him started,” Bobby warns, sitting in the now open middle seat. Leaving the far seat for Rufus, right next to Mr. Obnoxious himself.

 Rufus settles into his seat and does a double take. “Don’t I know you?”

 Gabriel rolls his eyes and acts offended. “Yeah, you do, Gramps. Forget your readers at home, huh?”

 Dean tries to stifle his laugh, muttering, “he’s your problem now.”

The ceremony begins with a quick introduction and only two reasonably long speeches. The graduate students are announced first, but Cas is in the last row. It feels like Dean has been waiting for this moment as long as Cas has. He’s certainly put in the hours of research beside him. Fed and watered and supported them while Cas TA'd, wrote, and argued his thesis.

 Dean shoves down the nervousness and focuses on the pride. There were only six doctoral candidates, and five made it across the stage that day. Dean couldn’t help but scream his head off when they announced, “Doctor Castiel Milton-Winchester.”

 Everyone in the row beside him joined in, from a very pregnant Anna and her husband to Samandriel and Jess, Sam’s girlfriend whose nursing school graduation was in two and a half hours. Their tribe went hard.

 Then they all had to wait for Sam’s turn near the end of the undergrads.

 Dean doesn’t think it’s possible to be any prouder than he is at that moment. Seeing Sam’s floppy hair tucked underneath his square cap brings tears to his eyes. His brother was gonna be a lawyer someday, and not too far in the future Dean and Cas will be at another one of these robe parades.

 Who knows, maybe Jess will still be around for it, too.

 Dean grins and sniffles, because, yeah, Sam is graduating, but Dean helped get him there, damn it.

 Not bad for two trailer park kids.

 After the official time for applause, once the final name is called, the crowd returns to chaos. Dean bides his time, knowing Cas and Sam will find each other and meet up with him at the impala, sooner or later.

 He watches his extended family gather their belongings and trudge outside into the spring sunshine. Rufus is loudly impatient the whole way. While Anna is almost to the point of waddling. Dean can’t wait to meet their niece already. Life is starting to slow down it seems.

 Maybe they’ll finally be able to take the honeymoon they’ve been putting off for the past two years.

 From somewhere behind Dean, Cas drawls a pathetic, “hey there, cowboy.”

 Dean spins on the spot, smirking. “What’s up, Doc?”

 “Really, Dean?! Bugs Bunny?!” Sam admonishes.

 “Shut your face, Sammy,” Dean snips, not breaking eye contact with his husband.

 Sam groans and turns to find Jessica. Dean’ll properly congratulate him later with the new juicer Sam’s been talking about, none too subtly, since the air fryer Dean got him for his birthday.

 “Ready to celebrate your momentous accomplishment?” Dean asks, sliding in close and slipping his hands inside the now open sides of Cas’ faux satin gown.

 “Please tell me there’ll be food. I woke up late and was too distracted to have breakfast,” Cas grumbles on Dean’s shoulder, shuffling his feet as if they’re dancing.

 “Okay, but you never eat breakfast,” Dean argues since he was the source of the distraction in the first place.

 “Because I eat between classes at like ten, Dean!” Cas bellyaches.

 Dean sighs and gives him an unimpressed grimace. “Yes, there’ll be food, Christ. I’m not a sadist.”

 They walk hand-in-hand to the car, Sam and Jess trailing behind them.

 “Okay, quick lunch, and then back for round two?” Dean asks as everyone finds their respective doors. They all nod in agreement and Dean ducks into the car.

 A memory of Cas’ first ride in the impala pops into Dean’s head. Having Sam in the backseat with Jess, it’s like looking in a funhouse mirror of that night. Sober and Garth-less, Dean chuckles.

 “What?” Cas asks, amused.

 Dean shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Just funny how everything works out in the end.”

 “Good things do happen, Dean,” Cas agrees.

 “Yeah, tell me about it. I got you, didn’t I?” Dean revs the engine and pulls into the line of traffic making their way out of the parking garage.

Destiel Tags: @dolphincliffs, @lastactiontricia​

Tell me what you think?

[fanfic-corner]

Lesser Known Destiel Fics pt 3

You guys really liked the last list... so here are some more lesser known Destiel fics! This time, we're doing ones with less than 10k hits :)

You Deserve To Be Loved by sandean_cas (1k)

Castiel senses Dean's longing and meets him on the bridge.

Loving Castiel by dinluke (1.9k)

“How did you find me?” Dean asks. Castiel squints and looks at him like he’s the sun.

“Your, uh, yearning was pretty loud,” he says sheepishly.

Mister Scarecrow Hates Halloween by Carrieosity (3.1k)

Castiel hates Halloween, so being roped into working in costume at a pumpkin patch has him seething in misery. And now, of all things, the object of his unrequited crush is walking toward him, and Cas is praying the costume will hide him just a bit longer.

Boneless Wings by PallasPerilous (4.3k)

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

Grace by july_19th_club (5.1k)

A man dies. What happens next will shock you.

a covenant of salt by museaway (5.1k)

They didn’t put up a tree on Cas’s first Christmas in the bunker.

Enhanced Extraction Techniques by goldenraeofsun (5.7k)

The Empty takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s, every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven. But in the middle of lecturing Cas in the form of Balthazar, it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

New All Over Again by Castielslostwings (5.7k)

Dean and Cas as childhood sweethearts separated as teenagers who have been searching for each other for years without success. Against all odds, they reunite in the middle of Times Square at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

The Cry of Elisha after Elijah by intothesilentland (5.8k)

The kicker is, Dean had been trying to live.

Really live. And not bite out in anger at the fraying of his heart: Cas, gone, Jack, gone—all that was left was him and his brother, and Dean had been trying to live, in spite, in light of that.

In a world like the unsteady first steps of a child, apprehensive arms and hands cradling the air around them, ready for a slip, excited for a step, Dean had been trying to walk forward, too. Though every step had meant every pain.

Upon his death, and arrival in heaven, Dean sets out to find the angel. He has to tell him. Cas has to know.

(un)conventional by imogenbynight (6.1k)

Spec Lit Con--Speckly Con, to it’s regular attendees--is an annual weekend-long event held in Chicago, dedicated to science fiction, fantasy and otherwise speculative literature. This year Dean's favorite author, C.J. Novak, is appearing as a panelist. Naturally, he shells out the cash for an all access pass.

Event Horizon by Winglesss (6.4k)

Castiel couldn't have helped his sister. That's why being offered a chance to help somebody else dealing with suicidal thoughts he took it without hesitation.

When he gets the first text from someone who needs his help, nothing goes as he expected.

My Own Little World by tale_to_tell (6.8k)

Castiel stumbles into a local café in order to avoid the rain, and during the process he meets a very attractive barista by the name of Dean Winchester. It doesn't take long for Castiel to fall in love with Dean's wit and charm.

Too bad that Dean has a boyfriend.

Lost and Found by whelvenwings (7.7k)

“Chuck Shurley? Sure, I’ve read his books. Kinda Vonnegut, but like, Kilgore-Trout Vonnegut, you know?” Dean took another gulp of his whisky, and smacked his lips like an adult. The guy sitting beside him at the bar, however, did not look suitably impressed. In fact, he was staring down into the bubbles of his cider, not even noticing the way that Dean was smiling at him, giving him the eyes.

“I thought his stuff was pretty good, in a kinda metamodern way,” Dean added airily, and a little more loudly.

The guy only nodded gloomily. Dean almost clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in frustration. C’mon, dude, I’m trying to impress you. Twenty minutes of talking and all Dean had to show for it was a weird first name, a series of dour stares and the strangest need to know more about this – Castiel.

In the House of the Rising Bun by starryiedd (9k)

Dean Winchester only has three rules concerning the cafe he and his brother Sam own, "House of the Rising Bun".

1. Any and all opportunities to make a pun will be taken.

2. Free regular coffee with your student ID (If you want some of that fancy nonsense you gotta pay, sorry kids).

3. Anyone and everyone is always welcome.

Between Dean running the shop full-time and Sam helping out whenever he isn't in class, there really isn't a whole lot of time for romance for either of them. But that all changes when they gain a new regular - some writer from London - who may or may not have the bluest eyes Dean's ever seen.

Once Upon a Time in a Christmas Bakery by noxsoulmate (10k)

What would Christmas Time be without a little fun in a Christmas Bakery?

akasha by quillquiver (14k)

Five years ago, an angel fell off the coast of Cannon Beach, Oregon.

Dean’s coming off a vamp nest in Boise when he gets the call on his Other Other Cell: two dead, definitely his kinda thing. But when he arrives in town, what originally looks like a cut-and-dry case soon turns up more questions than it does answers: What kind of monster uses medical equipment to exsanguinate its victims? Why is this monster here in the first place?

And what the hell is up with the witch at the end of the street?

Something Icky This Way Comes by almaasi (21k)

Charlie Bradbury is a professional investigator of supernatural happenings, and Dean Winchester is her work partner and best friend, currently bunking in their office. Requiring insight for a particularly bizarre case on the night before Halloween, they call their go-to FBI lab guy, Castiel – who Dean hates. Totally and completely despises. And yet somehow they’ve always gotten along perfectly well in the heat of the moment. Anyway, there’s an ectoplasm-producing rabbit high on catnip floating around the office, and the creature’s predicament really needs to be addressed, or Charlie’s Halloween party will have to be cancelled. And nobody wants that. Least of all, Cas.

Serendipity by whelvenwings (23k)

Stuck on opposite sides of the country, Dean and Cas make big sacrifices to be together at a special time of the year. However, when they realise that their joint idea of paying a surprise visit to each other's faraway home has left them still trapped miles away from each other, they have to find some way to meet in the middle - and it has to be before midnight if it's going to be perfect...

Lucky Winner by natmoose (31k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

4545 by anyrei and queerwerewolf (120k)

Albert Einstein predicted that, while he didn’t know with what weapons World War III would be fought, World War IV would be fought with sticks and stones. He wasn’t far off.

Humanity is surviving in a world without daylight, in a society where emotions are a luxury no one is allowed to have. But how important is surviving when you have nothing to live for? Two hunters find the answer to that question when they stumble over a miracle in the shape of a strange, blue-eyed man in a beige coat bearing… chocolate? Whatever that is.

I hope you enjoy reading these hidden gems! Thank you to all the amazing writers who share their work with us, and happy reading!

[jacks-muses]

"Uh... a um... whiskey" he says not really knowing what to order as neither him nor Alfie had ever had a drink

"I um... my name is Alfie" he says his voice squeeking slightly "Or um... Samandriel actually but i prefer my vessels name, Alfie... we're from another universe" he says "um... I don't exactly know who you are either" he says

They had gone to great lengths to make sure they weren't found by the angels or demons in their universe and once they had left their universe they thought they were safe but here they were face to face with an angel their first night. "Hello brother." Alfie, the angel formerly known as Samandriel, says swallowing the lump in his throat. "What... uh... brings you to this nightclub?"

He was quite unaware of how absolutly ridiculous he looked in his weiner hut uniform in a nightclub.

The uniform made him stand out for sure. Lucifer had spotted him the moment he walked in. And it wasn't just the clothes, but the way he carried himself.

He could sense the Celestial nature of his guest, but he did not recognize the face. Up close, he could see the nervous sweat. The slight tremble of nerves desperately being suppressed.

"I own this nightclub," he gestured with his hand, "Come, sit with me, brother. We may talk more freely over there.

'Over there' being a secluded booth.

@jacks-muses

[thick-black-ooze]

i love how in the show dean and sam are always like ??? when being introduced to angels or demons or even the name misha has them going "what the actual fuck" but then au fics will be like:

cas: hello dean, average man from kansas who does not even believe in ghosts, this is my friend balthazar

dean: hello yes this is completely normal i have no questions nice to meet you

[thenotsoinfamousthirdson]

"I don't need you to save me."

Adam sighed at the angel’s insistence. “I’m not trying to,” he said softly. “I just want to help you. You don’t have to keep being miserable.”

@actually-my-name-is-samandriel

[kemuele]

✪

Feelings and Friends | [accepting!]

Send ‘✪’ to see what Kem feels about your muse!

❖  POSITIVE.

I think you’re awesome ║ I like you ║ I want to go on a date with you ║  I love you ║ You’re cute/handsome ║ I want to marry you ║ You’re attractive ║ I wish we could spend more time together! ║ I’d like to get to know you better ║  I admire you ║ You’re someone that I look up to ║ You’re very kind ║ I consider us friends ║ I secretly have a crush on you ║ I have high respect for you ║ We have common interests ║ I’m happy that I met you

❖   NEGATIVE.

I feel uncomfortable around you ║ You’re bothersome ║ I never want to speak to you again ║ I dislike you ║ I loathe you ║ I’m envious of you ║ I’m worried about you ║ We don’t get along well ║ You’re the worst kind of person ║ You get on my nerves ║ You’re annoying to me ║ We have nothing in common ║ I wish I had never met you ║ I wouldn’t date you if you were the last person alive ║ Not you again

“Samandiriel,” he says the name, carrying with it a tender note and a softer smile. Kemuel never forgets the first ‘i’ in his name. It is important, much like naming one of the angels or aiding Father’s creations. But this is about his younger brother, a muse and a lover and a friend. Kemuel adjusts himself in the nipping cold as if affected, but the cloak of coppers and golds behind him act as a barrier. He is warm, he is fine. “Samandiriel is a just and gentle soul. He is the inspiration for most art, likewise the angel responding to fertility prayers and their concerned. He is Castiel’s harmony; the two were created all but simultaneously.” 

He smiles a little more and eyes wander to the mug of hot chocolate between his large hands, “I admire his kind and wise ways. He knows how to address and, ah, take on challenges. I only wish life wasn’t cruel to either he or Castiel. Or the rest of the Host, too. I love Samandiriel.” 

@actually-my-name-is-samandriel

[shieldofgod]

✪

❖   POSITIVE. I think you’re awesome ║ I like you ║ I want to go on a date with you ║  I love you ║ You’re cute/handsome ║ I want to marry you ║ You’re attractive ║ I wish we could spend more time together! ║ I’d like to get to know you better (I already know you better) ║  I admire you ║ You’re someone that I look up to ║ You’re very kind ║ I consider us friends (We are literally brothers) ║ I secretly have a crush on you ║ I have high respect for you ║ We have common interests ║ I’m happy that I met you (I’m happy we were made together)

❖   NEGATIVE.

I feel uncomfortable around you ║ You’re bothersome ║ I never want to speak to you again ║ I dislike you ║ I loathe you ║ I’m envious of you ║ I’m worried about you ║ We don’t get along well ║ You’re the worst kind of person ║ You get on my nerves ║ You’re annoying to me ║ We have nothing in common ║ I wish I had never met you ║ I wouldn’t date you if you were the last person alive ║ Not you again

I would threaten severely anyone who said anything negative about you.

[withfireinourbellies]

‘ wow. just wow. cheating on me on valentines day. really nice, jackass. ’

will you be my valentine

Meg quirked an eyebrow at her little halohead, turning to look at him in disbelief with a bottle of whiskey in one hand as the explicit movie was playing in the background. “Okay, one, this is not cheating and two, do you honestly think I give a rat’s ass about a Christian holiday based on some saint’s life?” 

“Try and give me a fluffy teddybear and I’ll show you the love I was showered with downstairs,” the demon warned him. 

[chidorikiller]

“who knew you’d be here?”

      Hand on his katana, thinking he would be ready for whatever this new potential threat would throw at him, Kakashi held still for the moment. “Oh, you know, a few people,” he said vaguely, his Sharingan tracking the other’s movements precisely. // @actually-my-name-is-samandriel

[aurorarevenclaw1927]

Imagine Cas introduce Samandriel to Team Free Will

"Sam,Dean,Y/N , This is Alfie."

"Actually my name is... Samandriel.But my vessel's name is Alfie,So I use it."

"Samandriel,This is Sam,Dean-"

"Winchesters' and Y/N Mott. I know who they are,Castiel."

"So,he is -"

"Yes Dean, he is an angel.And he is here to help us."

This is my first imagine so forgive me for my mistakes .

[sastielsfandom]

I have another AU that's been rattling in my brain for a bit!

Gabriel works (runs) at a candy store with his cousins and little brother, Castiel.

It's under their Dad's name but that's the extent to of what he contributes nowadays.

A few older family members used to work there, like some of their older brothers, Lucifer, Michael, Raphael, but they are banned from the store now after many, many family disputes.

Uriel and Zachariah worked for less than a day before quitting because, "it was below them."

Anna, Balthazar, Anael, and Hannah are part of the main crew. Hannah and Anna are willing to help out anywhere, Balthazar and Anael choose to manage rather than make the candy.

Samandriel is the youngest of the crew but pulls his own weight even with the least experience.

It's not the most efficient candy shop, but what they lack in "professionalism" they make up in taste and presentation.

Gabriel likes to say he's not the manager as if he's not the one running the shop. He's been with the shop from the very beginning and even when he wasn't technically in charge, if something needed to be done, Gabriel was the person to get it done. But the store totally isn't his pride and joy, not at all...

The shop is never silent, there's always banter floating around. Pranks here and there, only rule is it can't disrupt work completely, so no explosions or floods. It's an actual rule on the wall for very good reasons.

The name of the store is Angelic Sweets, courtesy of their Dad, which no one was surprised by, considering all their parents kept giving them angelic names. Of course their businesses would be the same way.

They would change it but it's really funny when all their nametags have angelic names and you could see customers questioning if that's just a part of the shops theme or not. It was especially funny when Michael and Lucifer still worked there.

[goldenraeofsun]

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

 Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place. 

 * * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.” 

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

 * * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later. 

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks. 

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.” 

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

 * * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s. 

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.  

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

 * * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * * 

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right. 

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?” 

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach. 

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He  turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal. 

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

 * * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

���Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them. 

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair. 

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

[huggybearsunshine]

The Things We Left Behind Part 6

[Part 6] Set during the first half of 8x10 Torn and Frayed.

“What about Sam?” Cas’ quiet voice put a name to Dean’s steadily souring mood and he turned the car around a bit more violently than was necessary.

“We’ll crash after I talk to Sam, but I’m getting my four hours,” Dean responded with a threat to no one in particular, least of all Cas.

“I could take over for a bit of you need,” the Angel offered.

“It’s okay,” there was a tug at Dean’s lip as he visibly softened, “I’ve gone on less…”

Cas nodded, but his expression held in worried uncertainty until he heard the quietly added, “Thanks, Cas,” from the man next to him.

Dean might’ve underestimated how exhausted he was, however, when by the time they arrived, he could barely keep his eyes opened.

“I’ll get a room,” Cas took his bag from him, “You go talk to Sam.”

With that he was off toward the office, and Dean was hovering in front of what his tracking device told him was Sam’s room.

“Who’d you expect?” he snapped after knocking only to almost have the door shut in his face again.

“Long drive?” Sam slammed the door behind his brother after he pushed his way inside uninvited.

“Well, I wouldn’t have had to make it if you hadn’t hung up on me,” Dean realized how his frustration was exaggerated due to lack of sleep but they were here now so the conversation was happening regardless.

“Yeah, well I heard all I needed to hear,” Sam bit back.

“No, you heard what you wanted to hear,” Dean corrected, “I told you Benny wasn’t killing- hell, I watched him end the fangbanger that was.”

“How ‘bout Martin?” Sam’s jaw was clenched tightly against his words, “How’d he end that?”

“Stupid- just like I said it would,” Dean threw his arms out, “Crazy son of a bitch didn’t give Benny any choice. It was self-defense.”

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam inched forward with each condescending word, “That’s the story you’re going with? That the vampire was the real victim here?”

“Hey, like it or not that’s the truth, okay?” Dean shook his head, “There was a time when that actually meant something…”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sam scoffed, anger showing no sign of abating.

“What does that mean?” Dean’s brows knit and his head tilted to the side in question.

“You think this is just about Benny?” it slipped from Sam’s mouth before he could think it through.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean took a defensive step back, suddenly afraid of what he might hear.

“What the hell do you think I’m talking about?” he committed fully.

“Is this about Cas?” Dean asked, now feeling wide awake.

“Of course that’s where your mind went… I’m talking about Amelia but all you can seem to care about since purgatory is the monsters in your life!” Sam froze as the words registered in his own mind.

Then a creak sounded behind him and his eyes fell closed.

“Cas,” he turned in time to see him exiting the doorway before turning his mortified gaze back toward the other hunter, “I thought you were here alone.”

“No, but I might be now…” Dean snarled furiously, “So Cas is a monster, huh? So nice to know how you really feel.”

His shoulder knocked roughly against Sam’s as he pushed passed him to follow the Angel’s trajectory.

“Cas, wait,” he called out but all he found was the abandoned bag and room key on the ground outside Sam’s door.

He scooped them up and disappeared into the provided room with a slam of the door.

“Cas…” Dean ran a hand through his hair as he began to pace the small space at the center of the room, “Come on, buddy, come back… I don’t know what’s going on with Sam, but you know he didn’t really mean that… I sure as hell don’t think that… Just… if you’re listening… I really need you here…”

Dean’s words reached Cas’ ears but it was like being under water. He opened his eyes to find himself yet again pulled away and standing in that white room.

How had he forgotten about this? And how long has it been happening?

“Castiel, we have a situation,” Naomi started in with an urgency, “Samandriel has been captured.”

“I thought Samandriel was dead,” he tried to catch up.

“He’s been missing,” she explained, “And now we know- Crowley has him.”

“Where?” Castiel stood from the chair he had been sitting in, still unsure of how he came to be there.

“His distress call cut out before I could pinpoint his exact location,” her face hardened, “but you will find him, and you will bring him home.”

“Crowley will have warded against Angels this time,” Cas realized he couldn’t stop himself from speaking and looked around, awash with confusion and what he imagined must be panic, “I’ll need help getting in…”

“Take whatever… whoever you need,” she eyed him pointedly, “But you will be certain, Castiel. It was your idea to rescue Samandriel. Not mine. Not heaven’s. Do you understand?”

He turned to find himself in the motel room he’d secured the night before as Dean slept on the couch with a beer in hand. He’d tried to wait up for Castiel to return.

Guilt twisted in his stomach at the sight of the hunter.

“Dean,” his voice spilled out on a whisper and the hunter jerked awake, spilling the beverage on himself in the process.

“Cas,” he jumped to his feet and set the beer down in one fluid motion, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just…” he suddenly couldn’t remember where he’d gone- just that he needed help.. no, Samandriel needed help.

“What Sam said… I hope you know that’s not true…” Dean went ahead, gripping the Angel’s shoulders in his hands.

“Sam is dealing with… It’s alright, Dean,” Cas brushed the events from last night off, “I’m sorry I disappeared like that.”

“It’s okay,” the hunter smiled warmly, hands rubbing up and down the Angel’s arms in a soothing manner, “Just glad you’re back…”

“I’m sorry to cut your rest short because I know how much you need it, but…” Cas’ eyes turned pleading, “I need your help. The Angel Samandriel… he’s been taken.”

“You mean Alfie?” Dean shook the fog from his awaking brain, “The uh, wiener-on-a-stick kid?”

“Yes, I heard…” something flashed in his mind but he couldn’t grasp it, finding words instead that felt wrong, “I heard his distress call this morning…”

“Oh, what, Angel radio?” Dean asked, taking a step away to start the nearby coffee pot, “I thought you shut that down…”

“Yeah, I did too, but…” Cas’ eyes looked far away as Dean’s attention was pulled back to him by the uncertainty in his voice.

“Cas, are you okay?” he crossed again to cup the Angel’s cheek in his palm, “Is this about whatever was pulling you away before?”

“Silence him,” Naomi’s voice rang through his mind, “Distract him, Castiel…”

“I’m fine, I’m just…” his eyes dropped to stare at the hunter’s lips before something took over and his body swayed in to capture them.

Something about it disingenuous in a way that felt wrong all of a sudden.

Luckily, Dean pushed away softly to look him in the eye.

“Hey, woah,” the hunter looked at him with a skeptical expression, “Don’t you want to help your friend… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I… definitely need some downtime and will take full advantage of it when we have time, but…”

“Sorry, yes,” Cas actually appeared embarrassed by his actions while still confused, “I think I’m just still getting used to this.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Dean’s smile warmed again as he kissed him softly before returning to his coffee, “So, who snatched Heaven’s most adorable Angel?“

“Crowley,” Cas’ voice dropped dangerously, and Dean’s face fell at the mention of the demon’s name.

“I’m listening.”

“Mr. Hinkley?” Dean knocked on the door to the man they hoped would lead them to Crowley’s hidden captive, “Hi, we’re from the, uh, Geneva Gazette. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your… ambush.”

Dean motioned to the man with a chuckle to himself as his eyes darted toward the sadly unamused Angel at his side.

“Yeah, I’d laugh too if it didn’t feel like the sun just ate my face,” the equally unamused hospital patient replied.

“It’s a metaphor,” Cas pointed out unnecessarily.

Dean turned to him and sighed before returning his attention to the man he wasn’t currently head over heels for even at moments such as these… and what was he kidding- he was especially head over heels during moments like this.

“Sorry,” he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes but he tried, “In the police report it said that the bush talked to you, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but yeah…”

“What did it say?” Cas asked, eager to move this part along.

“No clue,” the man shook his head, wincing at the pain, “Sounded like Klingon to me.”

“We’re gonna need exact words,” Dean pressed.

“You serious?” Hinkley asked, clearly running out of patience in his pained state.

“That’s his serious face, yes,” Cas leaned to look before answering in that earnest way he always did.

Hinkley caught Dean’s adoring smile before he dropped it self-consciously and cleared his throat.

“As much as you can remember, Mr. Hinkley,” a blush spread up Dean’s neck as he tried desperately to move on.

They were able to get the words from him.

Sol-Voch-tay

“That mean anything to you?” Dean asked as they closed the door behind them.

“Yes, it’s Enochian,” Cas informed him on their way out, “It means ‘Obey’.”

“Obey? Obey what?” Dean’s brow dipped.

“I don’t know…” Cas looked much more worried as he informed Dean just how much pain an Angel would have to be in to to do what he did.

They drove around, determined to find them, for most of the day after that before having any luck.

“Well, you, me, and a demon blade ain’t gonna cut it,” Dean remarked dryly at the number of demons around the most promising building.

“Okay,” Cas sighed, “I’ll get Sam…”

“No,” Dean’s jaw tightened at the sound of his name, “We don’t need Sam.”

“But you just said…”

“Look, if Sam wanted in, he’d be here, okay? And after what he said…” Dean looked away, “I got a better idea.”

The two arrived shortly to the safe boat Garth had stashed Kevin away in.

“You look horrible,” Cas informed him as if he didn’t know.

“Yeah, thanks,” Kevin voiced lifelessly.

“He’s right,” Dean glanced toward Cas, sharing a concerned look between them, “Are you okay, Kevin?”

“I’m fine, I’m just… in the middle of this,” he motioned haphazardly toward the tablet.

“And? Any luck?” Dean’s interest piqued.

“Interpreting half a demon tablet? No,” Kevin scoffed, pushing back in his chair in frustration, “I got nothing.”

“Well, buck up,” Dean played it off, hoping it was just a bad day but with a sinking feeling that they were losing the boy who used to be Kevin, “Cause uh, we need some more of that demon TNT ASAP.”

“You used it all?” Kevin turned a judgmental eye toward the hunter.

“Yeah, so let’s whip up another batch!” Dean shrugged.

“Sure, West Bank witch hazel, skull of an Egyptian calf, the tail of some random ass newt that may or may not be extinct-”

“Alright, alright I get it,” the hunter sighed, “Ingredients are hard to come by, huh?”

“That’s just the first three ingredients,” Kevin furthered his point.

“Give me the list,” Cas stepped forward with purpose, “I’ll get what we need.”

Dean was practically beaming as he looked from Cas to Kevin.

“Well,” he grinned proudly, eyes finding their way back to the Angel at his side as Kevin began writing feverishly on a sheet of paper what they would need.

————————

@spuffy-destiel @destieliscanon5nov

[angelfishofthelord]

I posted 4,284 times in 2021

839 posts created (20%)

3445 posts reblogged (80%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.1 posts.

I added 1,854 tags in 2021

#castiel - 529 posts

#dadstiel - 316 posts

#spn angels - 283 posts

#jack kline - 167 posts

#my spn edit - 142 posts

#angelfish rambles - 120 posts

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#sam winchester - 72 posts

#spn fanfic - 68 posts

#fanfic writer - 64 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#sometimes the loneliness and the isolation and the othering get to you and suddenly being the unicorn in the room isn't quite so fun anymore

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

"The universe wove you from a constellation just so every atom, every fiber in you comes from a different star." (x)

790 notes • Posted 2021-08-22 02:12:37 GMT

#4

i love reading fix-it fics where Sam and Dean are actually there for Cas and then I remember that Cas is a character who actually canonically tried to avert a civil war on his own, drowned in a lake alone, was tortured by his family alone, lived on the streets alone, went to die in a motel alone, suffered through ptsd alone, faced the imminent extinction of his own kind alone, grieved the death of his son alone, and I just

977 notes • Posted 2021-02-11 17:28:42 GMT

#3

we don't talk enough about how anna says in 4x20 that cas was dragged back like he fought heaven right then and there, and the complete wreakage that sam and dean came across where jimmy was, the remains of a battle, and i wished we'd seen the fight, how cas was already rebelling against the will of heaven even before the green room

1187 notes • Posted 2021-06-30 13:14:03 GMT

#2

for halloween jack says i'm gonna dress up like my dad! dean is like great i'm sure cas has an extra trenchcoat somewhere and then. jack shows up with a hundred little googly eyes stuck all over his body and sam and dean go wtf meanwhile cas starts to cry

1574 notes • Posted 2021-10-27 02:40:10 GMT

#1

every second samandriel spent on screen was iconic. he showed up wearing a wiener hut uniform. within his first five minutes he said one of the most iconic lines about cas. for some reason crowley was on a first name basis with him. he let us know that the angels own the vatican. refused to "horsetrade" the souls in heaven. then spent the remainder of his screen time being so brutally tortured his screams of agony set shrubbery on fire. was the only angel who ever begged not to be taken back to heaven because he knew. he knew. the show simply couldn't handle the tour de force of him

1896 notes • Posted 2021-01-24 03:58:57 GMT

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