#cas definitely has a bee scarf

[jacks-wack-attack]

I had free time today for the first time in three weeks. So what did I do? Draw Dean and Cas just having fun in wintertime. You can't tell me Dean wouldn't tug on Cas' scarf to bring him close.

I can't draw backgrounds, so let's pretend the white is just snow, alright?

[beautifulduckweed]

Last night, while @beeluffalo​ and I were hanging out in Discord working on our writing projects:

Candy: If I write Destiel in Captive Prince AU will you read Captive Prince??? Because I WILL

Bee: Candy: writes Destiel fic AT Bee

Candy: This actually works, Dean is an Akielon guard, Castiel is a Veretian noble, Castiel even sounds vaguely Veretian already Dean is short for...Deanianos

Bee: Bee: oh noes how i suffer lol

Candy: Deanianos is assigned as an honor guard for Castiel But hark, there are spy shenanigans involving Crowley, a Vaskian operative

Bee: !! :shakes fist: that dastardly Crowley

Candy: He's a wascal

Bee: are there horses? can Dean(ianos) have a black horse?

Candy: Oh fuck yeah Muscular as heck

Bee: and like rescue cas at some point and whisk him away on the horse

Candy: Pull him onto the horse

Bee: possibly minorly injured

Candy: Yes, whisking, definitely whisking away God this fic writes itself They're stuck in an inn during a winter storm Deanianos has to pretend to be Castiel's pet

Bee: AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Candy: There is only one room left

Bee: oh wait

Candy: and yes (a pet is a fancy courtesan)

Bee: pets don't get to sleep in beds im' guessing ah

Candy: Oh they VERY do

Bee: so no one would even worry about second beds noice

Candy: So Deanianos has to act all seductive but is SO BAD AT IT Wow this fic is really writing itself

Bee: (i maybe read too much a/b/o and bdsm spn stuff for "pet" to not mean "sleep on floor until someone catches feelings and lets you sleep in a bed")

Candy: Hahaha fair!

Bee: oooh yes dean could not act that to save his life but like is cas angry about how much he's fucking up, or amused?

Candy: ...both? Exasperated fondness??? He's normally so straitlaced and dutiful But something about this chaotic manchild with a face like an angel and the table manners of a goblin is unfurling a tender part of him long thought dead

Bee: TABLE MANNERSSS

Candy: Oh yeah. OH YEAH He's a common soldier You gotta eat fast

Bee: oh yes he would be the WORST fake courtesan

Candy: And you gotta eat a LOT Castiel offers him a sweetmeat between his fingertips And Dean like swallows practically his whole fist God why am I such a GENIUS Every TV show needs to hire me

Bee: deeeeeeean(ianos) does dean(ianos) have to wear something like silky and skimpy to be undercover? and he's pretending he's angry about it but secretly so into it

Candy: Oh hell yeah Pets are in fact scantily and scandalously clad Usually with lots of jewelry Akielons are already scantily clad by Veretian standards, just, y'know, not with the sexy silky stuff, so I can see them having to improvise hilariously

Bee: like hastily trading something to a townsperson in exchange for like their tablecloth and a wall-hanging

Candy: Yeah or even like grabbing Castiel's silk scarf and going "CAN WE MAKE THIS WORK"

Bee: oh yeah he'd have smoother underthings silk scarf and like a soft gossamer robe

Candy: Oh god repurposing a wall-hanging into a sexy loincloth Bee you are a comic GENIUS

-------------

In conclusion, Bee and I are geniuses and totally normal people, somebody give us wheelbarrows of money for being geniuses

Also I guess I have another Captive Prince project rotting my brain now, This Is Fine

[ltleflrt]

prompt please: dean/cas panties

Okay so fun fact about this story:  This is actually the first seed of an idea that developed into Satin and Sawdust, but I ended up not being able to use the premise for Reasons.  I always wanted to do this little meet cute ficlet though, so thanks for giving me an excuse.  Also thanks to @pallasperilous for helping me get over the tiny hurdle that I ran into with the plot :D

Working from home means pajamas as a uniform. There’s a lot of advice against it; stuff about “getting into aprofessional mindset” by “dressing like you’re going to the office” and otherbullshit that probably works for others, but Castiel doesn’t subscribe to thosenotions.  Especially not before he’s on his third cup of coffee, and eventhen, why dirty another set of clothing? He hates doing laundry.

Of course, he does haveto leave his apartment sometimes.  For meetings, or to deliver thefinished product to the office.  But for the short trips to the office topick up his mail and deliveries, pajamas are just fine.  It’snot like a t-shirt and some Ninja Turtle patterned sleep pants are indecent, oranything.

Not that he cares whatpeople think about how he’s dressed.  He’s only on coffee number two, andsocial functioning doesn’t start until halfway through cup three.

He’s more alert thanusual this morning though, even if he isn’t awake enough to justify changinginto normal daytime clothing.  A new neighbor has moved in across thehall, and Castiel catches him leaving for work sometimes.  The eye candy is almost equal to a third andfourth dose of caffenation.  Brown hair, scruff, freckles, and eithergreen or hazel eyes--maybe light brown?--plus a body built to kneel before inworship and supplication… The guy’s practically built to Castiel’s taste.

And oh how he’d like ataste.

Maybe he should startthe caffeine infusion earlier.  So he’ll feel fortified enough to start aconversation one of these days instead of just exchanging a smile, a wave, anda quiet hello before they go their separate ways.  And he can finally getclose enough to figure out the guy’s true eye color.  It would be worth getting up earlier.  He’s not a fan of mornings, but he’s a fan ofhot potentially single guys.  He can make an exception.

Unfortunately he seemsto have missed the object of his desire this morning.  The door across thehall stays firmly closed for the few minutes Castiel lingers, hoping to get hisother morning fix.  But he decides it’s just a little too chilly out toloiter any longer, and he heads down to the office to pick up his mail.

There’s three packagesfor him today, and he’s pleasantly surprised because he wasn’t expecting one ofthem for another day or two.  That means he can get started on the nextproject earlier than he’d promised.  Hecan use the extra time that saves him to stock up a few pre-made things for hisEtsy shop.

He goes over a mentalplan for what kind of crazy sweaters he can design for the shop as he opens theboxes.  He smiles as he unpacks the Alpaca yarn, pausing to pet the softgreen.  This one is for himself, and hepromises he won’t use it for any commissions this time.  He’s got a lovelyscarf in mind, and since the weather is getting cooler, he needs to get startedsoon if he wants to use it this winter.  

The second box is fullof regular wool, and he checks to make sure all the colors he requested wereincluded.  Last time his order had been short a few hanks, and it had beena huge pain in the ass to get everything straightened out with his supplier. Everything is fine this time though, and he’ll still be on track for hiscurrent projects.

The third box shouldcontain the vegan yarns.  Not his favorite to work with, but he respectsthat people choose a lifestyle that requires it, and they still want mittens,scarves, and sweaters.  Plus they’re usually okay with paying extra forthe cotton yarn instead of the acrylic. So as long as they’re willing to shell out the cash, he’s willing to knitout the goods.

When he opens the box, hesmiles when he’s greeted with a rainbow of colors and reaches in to pull outthe plastic wrapped skeins.  He rips at the plastic, and then hissub-optimally caffeinated brain catches up with reality and he realizes thathe’s not holding yarn at all, but something satiny.  Whole cloth, not thematerials to make it.

It’s a pair of panties.

Castiel blinks at thered satin in his hand.  “This is not what I ordered.”

He pulls out a few moreplastic wrapped bundles.  All panties. What the hell?  

Finally he reaches theorder sheet.  And when he reads the information printed at the top, horrorcreeps through him.  This package wasn’t meant for him.  He doesn’t recognize the name, but hedefinitely recognizes the apartment number.  It’s for… his new neighbor.  

“Oh, no.”

 ***

 Dean is more than readyto get home and relax after the day he’s had.  Too many fires to put outat the job site, and feathers to unruffle when he had to advise the client thatthe new timeline they were requesting wouldn’t be tenable.  Seriously whatis up with folks agreeing to an estimated finish date, and then wanting it donein half the time?  Entitled bastards.

At least it’s Friday,and he shouldn’t be needed for anything for the weekend.  He’s going tocozy up to a few beers and the episodes of Doctor Sexy building up in his DVRand relax.  

Plus, he’s got a packagewaiting for him that he’s been looking forward to for days.  Just thethought of it puts an extra bounce in his step as he locks up his car and headsfor the office.

Ten minutes later, hisgood mood goes up in a puff of metaphorical smoke.  The package isn’tactually there.

“Are you sure the emailsaid it was delivered today?” the receptionist asks for the third time.

He waves his smartphoneat her.  “Got the delivery notification email right here.”

Her vaguely hopefulexpression crumbles and she shakes her head.  “I’m so sorry, it’s reallynot here.  I even checked to see if itgot left on someone’s desk instead of in the mail room.  There isn’tanything addressed to you.”

Dean sighs and tucks hisphone away.  Well there goes part of his weekend plans.  And on topof it he has to deal with reporting a lost shipment to the vendor.  Funstuff.  “Thanks for checking anyway.”

She smilessympathetically.  “Have a good evening.”

Despite hisdisappointment about the missing package, his plans aren’t totally ruined. So his smile is mostly genuine. “Thanks, you too.”

A few minutes later helets himself into his apartment, and he leans back against the door and justbreathes for a few seconds.  It’s quiet and dark and it’s nice not havinganyone needing his attention.  It reallyhad been a rough week, and he feels like he hasn’t had a minute to stand stillfor days.  The only bright spots in his week have been the notificationthat his present to himself had been delivered, and the few times he’d caught aglimpse of his hot neighbor across the way.

Those are always gooddays.  It’s become something of an obsession for him to see what kind ofwacky pajama bottoms the guy’ll be wearing each time they meet.  Dude’sgot quite the collection, ranging from bumble bees, to kittens, to hammers andsaws, to superheroes.  Plus he’s fuckingsexy with his sleepy eyes and mumbled greetings.  He never quite lookslike he’s all the way awake, but he always greets Dean with a warm smile and adorky little wave that leaves Dean feeling light and bouncy all the way to hiscar.

Maybe when thisconstruction project is done he’ll take a few less intensive jobs. He can seeif his hot neighbor wants to hang out a bit.  Even if he’s not into dudes,it would be nice to make a friend in the new place.  Dean’s used to having a roommate, but nowthat he’s living on his own, it’s a little lonely in his down time.

“Oh well,” he says intothe empty apartment.  “At least I’ve still got Doctor Sexy.”

A light knock betweenhis shoulder blades startles him away from the door.  He looks at itsuspiciously for a moment before putting his eye to the peephole to see who’sknocking.  When he gets a glimpse of wild dark hair and blue eyes, hejerks back in surprise.

Why is Hot Neighborknocking on his door?

Only one way to find out.

When he opens the door,Hot Neighbor seems startled.  He stares up at Dean with wide, very blueeyes, that immediately make Dean’s world fall away for a few seconds.

“Oh,” Hot Neighborbreathes.  “Green.”

The non-sequitur bringeverything back. “What?”

“What?” his neighborparrots, squinting in confusion.

Oh no, he’s cute. Dean’s internal monologue sometimes has a knack for stating theobvious.  He shakes his head, dislodging the thought and dismissing the previousexchange.  “Uh, hi.”

Hot Neighbor shakes hishead too, apparently also needing the mental reset.  “Hello,” he says, anddamn his voice is just as sexy when he’s fully awake as it is when he’s sleepy. “You’re Dean, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. How did you--?” The question cuts off when he realizes that Hot Neighboris holding a box.  That’s been opened. “Oh.”

Heat rushes into hischeeks when he realizes that this guy has probably seen what exactly is in thatbox.  It’s only slightly reassuring when he also blushes, all the way tohis hairline.  At least Dean’s not alonein his mortification.

“Sorry, I picked this upwith my other packages,” his neighbor says, holding the box out to Dean. He clears his throat and smiles. It looks forced.  “Your girlfriendhas excellent taste.”

Maybe it’s because he’stired, or maybe it’s shock from the situation, or maybe he’s just a dumbass,but Dean’s mouth opens and the truth comes out.  “No, these are for me.”

If the increased heat inhis cheeks is any indication, he’s about to spontaneously combust.

“Oh, um…”His neighbor lifts the box in Dean’s direction again.  His smile turns tosomething far more genuine.  There’shumor there, but also… maybe interest?  “Well, you haveexcellent taste.”

Okay yeah that’sprobably interest.

Dean finally takes thebox, unsure how else to respond to the compliment other than “thanks, man.”

The guy nods and grinsbrightly.  “Anyway, uh… have a good evening, Dean.”  He does hisdorky little wave and turns back to his own apartment.

Before he can open thedoor, Dean’s brain finally shifts into the correct gear.  “Wait, what’syour name?”

Hot Neighbor turns withhis hand on the knob.  “Oh, I’m Castiel. Or Cas.  People call me Cas.”

“Castiel,” Dean says,relishing the way it feels to say.  “I was going to veg out with a beerand some trashy TV.  I got a few extrabeers if you’d like a drink.”

HotNeighbor--Castiel--Cas, beams so brightly that Dean’s a little dazzled by it. “Yes, I’d like that.”

Thrilled, Dean stepsaside and gestures for Castiel to come inside.  When he shuts the doorbehind them, his eyes fall on Castiel’s ass. Through his admiration of the shapely body he notices that Cas is stillwearing pajamas.  They’re covered in Ninja Turtles.  “Dude, your pants are awesome.”

Castiel turns and flickshis eyes down at the box in Dean’s hands then meets his eyes.  “Yours too.”

“Maybe we can do afashion show for each other some time,” Dean suggests, feeling brave.  IfCas was going to be weird about the panties, he wouldn’t be here now, right?

“I think I’d like that very much.”

Oh yeah, they’re goingto get along great.  

Unless…

“I’ve got a bunch ofDoctor Sexy on the DVR.  That sound okay?”

Castiel practicallyglows with excitement.  “It’s my favorite show.”

Dean grins. “Awesome.  Have a seat, I’ll getyou that beer after I put these away.”  

Yup.  Definitelygoing to get along like a house on fire.

[ordered---chaos]

Knitting in the Bunker

“Are you knitting?” Dean asks when he finally realizes what Cas is doing.

He’s just walked into the war room, where Cas sits with Dean’s computer open and a frown on his face. His hands are full of blue knitting needles, three different skeins of yarn, and something small Dean can’t fully see.

“Yes,” Cas answers absently. He squints at the screen, then back at the thing in his hand.

“You knit?”

“Yes.”

He sounds preoccupied, so Dean goes to make himself a burger. When he comes back, there’s a huge smile on Cas’ face that’s even more surprising than finding the angel knitting at the table.

“What is it?” Dean asks, trying to see what Cas has in his hands.

The page up on the screen is full of gibberish knitting instructions that look more like some sort of CIA code than a grandmother’s hobby.

Cas opens his hand, his eyes alight. And Dean sees…

The cutest damn thing.

It’s a tiny knitted bee. Its soft body is striped black and yellow, with floppy white wings sticking out on each side. It’s even got a miniscule stinger made of black fuzz.

“You made that?” Dean asks. He can’t imagine a warrior’s hands creating something so small and intricate. He knows his couldn’t.

“I was having trouble with the wings,” Cas says. “They were harder to attach than I expected.”

Dean reaches out to it, but pulls his hand back. He’s suddenly afraid of breaking it. Cas smiles lovingly at the bee.

“I didn’t know you could knit,” Dean says, because Cas’ happy silence is making him feel lost.

Cas nods. “Since I Fell. I learned then. To pass the time.”

Dean swallows. “I’m impressed, dude. That shit’s complicated.”

“This was,” Cas says, placing the tiny bee gently on the table. “But in general no.”

“No?”

“I could teach you a simple stitch,” Cas offers. “It can be very relaxing.”

Dean isn’t so sure his hands will be up to it. “What if I break it?”

“The needles are metal. And yarn is surprisingly durable.” Cas squints up at him, waiting for an answer. Dean clears his throat.

“Fine, okay. Yeah. But it probably won’t work.”

“I’ve seen your hands, Dean,” Cas says, picking up the lurid yellow yarn and his two needles. “You are more than capable.”

“Geez, are you flirting with me?” Dean jokes.

Cas stares at him for a long moment, then ties a slipknot with the end of the yarn. “This is to cast-on,” he says. He puts the needle through the eye of the knot and pulls it tight. “We’ll start with just fifteen stitches.”

He loops the yarn around his hand, then puts the needle through again. When he pulls his hand out, there’s another stitch waiting on the needle.

“Wait, how’d you do that?” Dean asks.

Cas shows him again. Dean watches the stitches on the needle multiply. It’s clever linework. Cas does five of them, then holds out the needle to Dean.

It’s simpler than he’d expected. It’s all about manipulating the string, and that’s something he’s known since he was old enough to tie his shoes. He casts ten more stitches onto the needle, and is surprised by how quickly his hands pick up the motion. Cas is right; this is relaxing.

“Now I’ll show you the actual stitch.”

“That wasn’t it?”

“No that was just casting-on.” Cas takes the other needle off the table. “Here.”

Dean hands the fledgling piece back over. Cas demonstrates how to do the stitch, and Dean watches closely.

“There are ways to remember this,” Cas says, doing a second stitch. “Mnemonics and such. But none of them work for me.”

“That’s okay,” Dean says, completely intrigued by the motion of Cas’ fingers tangling expertly through the yarn. “I probably wouldn’t remember it anyway.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Cas says quietly enough that Dean doesn’t have to respond. He’s grateful.

“Alright, let me try,” he says, trying to hide his excitement. Cas hands over the needles again.

Carefully, Dean puts the free needle through. That was the first step. But he quickly gets tangled.

“Hang on. What’d I do? Oh, shit.”

“Let me see.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re learning.”

Cas gently takes Dean’s hand. “It has to go between those two strands. See?” Dean does. He nods, his face flushed with shame.

“I’m no good at these things.”

“Put the needle through there, Dean.” There’s a sternness in Cas’ voice that makes Dean sigh. He doesn’t want to disappoint Cas more, so he just threads the needle through. Cas guides his other hand around, pointing out where he needs to loop the yarn.

“Now pull.”

Dean does…and produces one clean stitch.

“Whoa.” He holds it up, looking closer. “I did it! Look at that!”

Cas smiles back at him. “Do another.”

Dean does, carefully repeating the steps Cas had just walked him through. His hands find it easier this time. There’s a pattern they can follow, muscle memory like reloading a gun.

Growing more confident, he ties another stitch, then a third and fourth. He glances up at Cas, who’s watching his face with a small smile. His eyes drop back to the knitting when Dean looks up.

“You’re doing very well,” Cas says.

“Thanks,” Dean replies.

He finishes the row and automatically switches hands.

“You’re a natural,” Cas says as Dean finishes his second row.

Dean’s smiling stupidly now. He’s got two lines of damn-fine knitting in his hands, and each stitch comes easier than the last.

Then he realizes that he’s stolen Cas’ needles, and he’s just sitting there, turning the tiny bee over and over in his hands.

“Sorry,” Dean says.

He hands his knitting over to Cas.

“For what?”

Dean laughs, stands and cracks his back. “I stole your knitting. You can go back to bees.”

He picks up his long-cold burger.

“I enjoyed this, Dean,” Cas says.

“Hey, me too,” Dean tells him honestly. “Gotta get myself a pair of knitting needles.

Cas beams at him.

He does just that the next time he drives into Lebanon on a beer run. There’s a modest craft store in the town’s little strip mall. Dean browses the shelves, glad there aren’t any grannies here today to glare at him for invading their territory—or worse, act like he’s something special for wanting to knit or something. He’s not, really. He’s just a guy who likes doing stuff with his hands. And hey, knitting needles are pretty badass. You could totally put someone’s eye out with one. He’s pretty sure he’s seen a movie where that happened….

He ends up with two slender black needles and a skein of blue yarn. It’s the softest fucking thing he’s ever touched. There must be yarn scientists out there researching how to make softer yarn, because no way this shit’s natural.

He makes small talk with the cashier while she rings him out. She tries to get him to take a pamphlet about a knitting class that meets on Tuesdays, but he brushes it off. He gets back in the Impala and continues to the grocery store.

Between the next two hunts, Dean practices. The stitch is coming effortlessly now. He’s honestly surprised that he’s managed to pick up this skill. His hands were usually reserved for destruction…or driving.

He shows Cas the first scarf he makes. Cas runs his hands over it and tells Dean it’s flawless, even though there were several times Dean fucked up in the first few rows, and that part of the scarf is blemished and kinked.

“I’m impressed, Dean. And I have something for you.”

That makes Dean wary, because he’s really not used to receiving gifts. But Cas just holds out his hand and puts something soft and small into Dean’s palm.

It’s that tiny knitted bee. Dean swallows. Cas has sewn a loop of black thread onto the bee’s back, between its wings.

“I thought you could hang it from the mirror in the Impala,” Cas says nervously. He won’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“I will, Cas,” Dean says. “I’ll go put it there right now.”

He does just that, working the thread around the mirror and then tying it so it can’t ever fall off. When he backs out of the car, Cas is standing there with a smile on his face. Dean’s own smile grows, and they laugh.

Not to be one-upped, Dean begins his own project. He buys more yarn than he ever thought he’d touch, as well as other supplies he’ll need. He bookmarks the instructions on his computer, and then hides it in his porn folder so that no one will find it.

He works tirelessly for weeks. In all honesty, the project is definitely beyond his skill. But he’s determined and he gets it done.

The day he finishes, he picks up his creation and punches it into a less lumpy shape. He should probably redo it better, or at least fix it up a little, but the excitement of success makes him leave his room with it clutched against his chest.

“Cas?” he calls.

“Hmm?” Cas replies. It sounds like he’s in the library. Dean finds him sitting immersed in a stack of books.

Dean holds out his gift. Cas stares at him.

“Is that— Dean.”

It’s a knitted bee, just like the one that’s now been hanging in the Impala for a month. But it’s massive. The whole thing is a little bigger than a pillow. The stinger is as big as Dean’s hand, and its wings are the size of hand towels.

Cas reaches out for it, takes it in his arms.

“You made this?” he asks.

Dean feels a rush of vulnerability that makes him want to grab the bee back and disappear into his room forever. But he stands his ground because he’s a grown man, dammit.

“I had a little bit of trouble,” he says. “You’re right. The wings are a bitch.”

Cas’ hand brushes over them as he speaks. “It’s beautiful.” His voice is rough.

Dean looks away because he can feel his face turning embarrassing colors. “You can have it. If you want it.”

“Dean, I couldn’t,” Cas says. “This must have been so difficult.”

“It was nothin’. I want you to have it.”

Cas looks up at him. Then he nods. “Alright.”

Dean grins. “You want pancakes? I’m gonna make pancakes.”

“Yeah,” Cas says. “I’ll just go put this….” He trails off, leaving the library.

Dean thinks about the bee in the Impala, and hopes Cas puts his gift somewhere special.

A little bit later, as he’s passing Cas’ room, he sees the bee standing guard on Cas’ pillow. The blankets are neatly made up, but rumpled, as though Cas was lying on them. Dean’s not really a tracker, but he’s pretty sure, from the imprint of Cas’ body, that he was lying on his bed with at least one arm wrapped around the bee.

Dean smiles and wonders what he should try to knit next.

A/N: In case you want to knit your own tiny (or huge) bees: http://www.chemknits.com/2009/11/bzzzzzzz-knit-bumble-bee.html