#cas fics

[supernaturalfreewill]

Cas looked utterly terrified as he studied your face. "Please, understand... Heaven will stop at nothing to find me, to punish me. And that means you aren't safe either. I've lost too many people. I can't lose you too," he said. His deep voice was pleading. "You must stay hidden. Please. I couldn't bear it if—if something happened to you because of me."

You wanted to fight alongside him, but how could you refuse him this request? You'd never seen him so worried, so pale. Finally, you nodded. "Okay. But you have to promise me that you'll come back. Promise me."

It was the only time Cas had ever felt brave enough to reach for your hand. He enclosed it so gently between his and looked into your eyes with his cobalt ones. "I promise. I have everything to fight for."

Prompt: "I've lost too many people. I can't lose you too."

[v1ntagecassette]

give up what you love (before it does you in)

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: 

A new hire has turned up at the Crow's Nest Bookshop, and he looks utterly terrified to be here. A new customer has turned up at the Crow's Nest Bookshop, and she's profoundly distracting. A new Barrel boss has turned up at the Crow's Nest Bookshop, and he's about to raze it all to the ground.

Words: 3.4k

When Kaz entered the bookshop to see an entirely unfamiliar face peering back at him from behind the counter, he knew today was going to be a long one.

Save for the yellowy glow of the hanging lamp over the register, the building was still dark. Weak morning sunlight spilled inside through the little glass panes in the door behind him, fighting its way through the smoggy clouds that always settled themselves over Ketterdam this time of year. Whoever watched Kaz approach from the other end of the shop was certainly dressed for the weather; he wore a thick jumper in coppery autumnal oranges, his hands half-hidden in its sleeves.

“Morning,” said the mystery boy, giving a halfhearted wave. He attempted (rather poorly) to play it off like he was scratching at the back of his head of golden curls when Kaz didn’t return the gesture, only kept stalking his way toward the coat hooks that were tucked behind the fiction shelves.

The thunk of Kaz’s cane along the warped old wood seemingly alerted Per Haskell to his presence (never mind that Kaz arrived at precisely nine and a half bells each morning — on the days Haskell actually bothered to turn up around opening, he tended to be far too busy with his morning glass of whiskey to notice the goings-on out on the floor). The old man emerged from the back office with a little wooden dowel in his right hand, and he clapped his left against this new boy’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

“Ah,” said Haskell, gesturing toward Kaz with what must have been the mast of his newest model ship. (The thing took up a frankly embarrassing amount of space in the already-too-small back office; Kaz dreamed of the day he could bash his cane into its half-finished hull.) He sounded about as thrilled to see Kaz as he did any day when he got bored enough to set foot on the floor. “Here he is. The lad himself.”

Kaz arched a brow at him. “It seems I’m not the only lad on the premises this morning.”

“Indeed you’re not,” Haskell agreed. “This” — he gave the boy’s shoulder a little jostle — “is Wylan. He’ll be taking up a part-time position here as of fifteen minutes ago.”

Those fifteen minutes had clearly taken their toll; this kid looked like a newborn deer on an open field, and he eyed each bookshelf like their contents were going to try and eat him. “Hi,” he said, doing his very best to covertly wiggle out of Haskell’s grasp. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kaz didn’t bother to acknowledge him. He bit down on the comment he longed to make about a new hire being made without so much as consulting him and swallowed it hard. “Has he had any training?”

Haskell let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s your job, Brekker, not mine.”

“Of course, sir.” So much for alphabetizing poetry before opening.

“Sir,” Haskell repeated with an inelegant chuckle. He relinquished his grip on the boy and gave the register in front of him a smack. “Look at you, putting on a show for the new hire. You should take after Brekker’s theatrics, son,” he added to Wylan. “It just might get you a raise.”

Kaz knew for a fact that it wouldn’t. Wylan, though, clearly eager to please, nodded and gave a small-but-determined “Yes, sir.”

“A quick learner, eh?” A proper, hearty laugh boomed across the shop; the type Haskell reserved for new business partners and people he wanted to impress. The shine would wear off soon enough, but Kaz made a mental note to keep up the honorifics for the next couple of days.

“A valuable skill,” Kaz said flatly. “One among many, I hope.”

There seemed to be something particularly interesting taking place on the ground between Wylan’s shoes, if the kid’s unblinking stare toward the floor was anything to go by.

“I suppose I’ll leave you boys to it,” said Haskell. (Kaz fought not to bristle — twenty-two, surely, was old enough for him to have graduated from boy.) “Got some important paperwork to get squared away.”

That one nearly received an eye roll. Kaz had been doing this shop’s bookkeeping for just over four years now; any paperwork Haskell planned to work on likely involved a single signature at the bottom of a document Kaz had prepared and printed, or a glance over a spreadsheet Kaz had drafted up that would sit idle on the office’s computer monitor while the old man took a nap in his desk chair.

“Show him the ropes, Brekker,” Haskell said as he ambled off. “Quick crash course, then get him out on the floor.”

Right, of course, because he could absolutely teach this kid all there was to know about the register and the system and the shelving and everything else in — he checked the clock that hung over the creaky green front door — twenty-three minutes.

“Thank you, Mr. Haskell,” Wylan called after him, fiddling with a loose thread at the sleeve of his jumper. He didn’t turn his back on the office door until the old man pulled it closed.

Kaz heaved a sigh and limped around the books that separated the coat hooks from the rest of the shop. He shook his coat from his shoulders, granting himself precisely five seconds to hang it up and scrub a hand through his hair before making his way behind the counter, where Wylan waited quietly with an air of anxiety hanging over him like fog on the harbor.

From a single glance, it’d been clear that this new hire was almost sickeningly polite. Kaz had begun bracing himself for a handshake the moment he laid eyes on the kid; it was more than clear he’d be the sort to introduce himself formally, most likely out of some learned sense of obligation. There was a certain reluctance about him — a need to make a good impression. His wide blue eyes darted repeatedly from Kaz to the office door and back again, and his reddish brows had a permanent, apologetic crease between them, almost as though he were asking forgiveness for occupying space in the shop. Whatever stone he’d been hewn from, it wasn’t the same sort that cobbled the Barrel’s streets.

“Hi,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m Wylan.”

Kaz shook it shortly, grasp and release. “So I’ve heard.” He elected to ignore the way Wylan’s attention lingered for just a moment too long on his glove.

“And… sorry, what was your name?”

“Kaz Brekker.” Wylan would know that if he’d ever once set foot in this establishment before; Kaz’s name was scattered all about the place on the little shelf talkers that recommended certain books. (Haskell had been terribly opposed to them, but he stopped complaining once titles that had lived on the shelves long enough for their pages to go yellow were suddenly getting restocked weekly.)

“You’re the manager, then?” Wylan asked.

According to Per Haskell? No. He was a bookseller at best and a nuisance at worst. According to the bills, the payroll, the deliveries, the decor, and the time last winter when Kaz had come into the shop at four bells in the morning to call in an emergency repair for a burst heating pipe? Yes. Very much so. For Wylan’s sake, Kaz elected to abbreviate. “More or less.”

“Cool,” Wylan said, and with that, he seemed to have expended his bank of small talk. Kaz would’ve been happy with the silence, but he figured he should at least try to make conversation. Jesper was always on his hide about how curt Kaz was with the customers.

“So,” he said, propping his cane against its corner beside the register as he booted up the dusty old computer, “Haskell’s been hiring?”

“I guess.” The thread on Wylan’s cuff was growing ever longer; he’d have the whole sleeve unraveled by lunch if he kept this up. “He said you’d been talking about bringing someone new on board for a while now.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, something about… new blood, I think he said? Being good for morale?”

Kaz leaned down to turn on the receipt printer, chewing that over. “Per Haskell,” he said, “hasn’t listened to a word of advice I’ve given him since the day he took me on. I’ve been one bad customer away from putting out my own damn help wanted listing for the better part of two years. And yet” — Kaz peered over his shoulder — “he took your application in a heartbeat.”

“Sounds like I got lucky.” Wylan’s poker face was in desperate need of work, but Kaz wouldn’t put him through the wringer just yet. He turned back toward the monitor.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” he asked, straightening up. “Any particular wheelhouse?” Kaz had dropped a hundred hints about taking on someone more versed in the science and maths section for months, but to no avail. Maybe, for once in his life, the old man had taken note.

“Oh, ehm. I like… I like fiction?”

Naturally. “Fiction,” Kaz repeated.

“Yep.”

Everyone and their mothers liked fiction. That wasn’t much to go on. “Adult? Children’s? Literary? Historical?”

“I sort of read all over.”

Kaz actually had to take a moment to close his eyes and breathe. Why in Ghezen’s name had Haskell hired this kid? The way he paled at each question made Kaz wonder if he even read at all. Kaz put his back to the computer as it finished sputtering to life, and the moment Wylan realized Kaz’s eyes were on him again, he snapped to attention.

“But if you need someone to, um, cover a certain section, or something,” he said in a rush, “I can be wherever you need me.”

It was difficult to place exactly what energy Wylan was giving off. Anxious, maybe, but not just about starting a new job. Eager to please, but that seemed more innate than conditional. Reading people was a skill Kaz had carefully honed over the years; no matter how closely he scrutinized Wylan’s tone and expression and posture, though, he just couldn’t parse out why this boy looked as though he’d walked into an ambush unarmed.

“Noted,” Kaz said. He retrieved his cane and stepped out onto the floor; as expected, Wylan followed close behind. “Get those switches flipped on,” he said, nodding toward the six wooden pillars wrapped in string lights that stood sentry around the center of the shop. “I’ll get the door.”

It admittedly wasn’t unpleasant to have someone around to assist with the more menial morning duties. Jesper rarely turned up to open — he wasn’t the most punctual of employees, and mornings were never terribly busy, anyway — but with Wylan around, all Kaz really needed to worry about was turning the open sign and unlocking the door. By the time he was done, Wylan had finished with the lights and had taken to standing entirely still with a lost sort of look on his face. Kaz just brushed past him, heading toward the back half of the shop to get that section squared away, too.

“Jesper mans middle readers’,” Kaz said as he walked, “but you’re welcome to assist in that department. He’s got a habit of stacking enough recommendations into customers’ arms to tip them over. It gets a bit overwhelming.”

“Jesper?” Wylan repeated. “Not Jesper Fahey?”

Kaz paused in the act of pulling the chain on a hanging lantern. “You know him?”

“Not really,” said Wylan. He was prodding at a handful of children’s fantasy books, trying to make them all sit evenly in a row. “I just — we have class together. Or had class together, I suppose. At the university? I haven’t seen him in a month or two.”

“Interesting.” Kaz would file that away for later.

“Speaking of the university,” Wylan said, tugging on a paperback to line up its spine with the edge of the shelf, “do you go? I would’ve thought I’d’ve seen you around.”

I’m too old for school, came an unwanted echo from the back of Kaz’s head. Too smart, too. Maybe little pigeon Kaz had taken that to heart. “No,” he said, and he set back off for the register.

“Mr. Haskell mentioned training,” Wylan said, still dogging Kaz’s every step. At least he knew when to drop a topic of conversation.

“That he did.” Kaz nodded toward the computer screen. “Have you ever worked a point-of-sale system?”

“No.”

Kaz considered him. “Ever worked at all?”

“Um. Also no.”

It took a concerted effort for Kaz to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose. Though he longed for the simplicity of a morning spent doing anything other than training some doe-eyed university boy, it seemed fate wouldn’t be granting him that luxury today. “Alright,” he said. “Then we’ll start from square one.”

The following hours were blessedly quiet — they usually were this early in the day, but Kaz had learned to take small victories where he could find them. He gave Wylan a short tour of the shop, which Wylan spent scratching away at a small notepad, diligently scribbling down… something. He held it too close to his chest for Kaz to see, even when he didn’t think Kaz was looking. (Kaz would have to find a time to pickpocket it off him some time soon.)

Wylan was a quick enough learner; he could count back change in his head, which Kaz respected more than he’d ever admit aloud, and he picked up processing returns without trouble. His seemingly subconscious seeking of approval meant that he was dedicated and determined; by all counts, he was shaping up to be a pretty decent employee.

Issues began to arise, however, when Kaz showed him the inventory and the distributor sites. Wylan grew flustered when Kaz suggested he search up a book he was familiar with in order to learn how the system categorized the sections, and more flustered still when Kaz proffered a specific title for him to type in. What little tension had seeped from his body over the past handful of hours returned to it tenfold as his hands hovered motionless over the keyboard.

“Sorry,” Wylan kept saying, “sorry, sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

Kaz saw no point in causing the new hire psychological distress on his first day, and frankly, it was too early in the day to try and puzzle out why the kid was wound so tight. He cut his losses and dug a duster out of the back room, then extended it to Wylan handle side out. He’d been trying to get Jesper to clean up the lower shelves for longer than he cared to quantify; maybe having an extra set of hands on deck, no matter how suspicious their arrival had been, wasn’t the worst thing.

As it turned out, Wylan was incredibly diligent. He kept to himself as Kaz did his usual paperwork and order-placing, only drifting back toward the counter when the odd customer showed up to watch Kaz make sales over his shoulder. Wylan was somewhere in the far back of the shop when Jesper finally took it upon himself to waltz inside, wearing absurdly patterned trousers and an even more absurd jacket to guard against the early autumn chill.

“Morning!” he called out far louder than he needed to.

“It’s half past twelve bells,” Kaz noted.

“And I just rolled out of bed. Hence: morning.” Jesper sauntered up to the counter and dropped a brown paper bag atop it. Kaz lifted a brow.

“What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” Jesper replied, reaching inside and digging out a croissant frosted with chocolate. “You know. That thing people eat in the morning. I got you some, too. Chocolate-free, just for you, Dirtyhands.”

Kaz made no move to reach for the bag. “If you make a mess of a single book cover —”

“I won’t!” Jesper insisted. A drop of chocolate chose that moment to land on his knuckle. “I solemnly swear to thoroughly wash my hands,” he said, crossing his heart with his croissant-free index finger.

“Ghezen help you if you don’t,” said Kaz.

There was a creak from behind him as Wylan passed through the little swinging door between the children’s section and the counter, presenting Kaz with what looked like a recently deceased rabbit. “Are there more of these dust-y things?” Wylan asked, sliding the once-yellow (now gray) disposable cover from the duster’s handle.

“Supply closet.” Kaz had busied himself with cracking open a new roll of coins, but he could feel Wylan’s questioning eyes on him from where he stood. “The door tucked between the coat hooks. The handle has a habit of sticking.”

Wylan nodded. He nearly made it four steps away from the counter before Jesper intercepted him, arms folded, chin up, seeming intrigued by the way Wylan froze on the spot like a small animal caught digging through the bin.

“Morning,” Jesper said again, his gray eyes glittering with interest. “Who might you be, O stranger behind the register?”

“Oh, um, hi. We’ve actually — Hi. I’m Wylan.” His arm jerked slightly, like he had been planning to shake hands but decided against it once he noticed that Jesper was holding what must have been the world’s messiest croissant.

“Wylan?” said Jesper. “Wylan who?”

“Van Eck,” Kaz said without looking up.

“Wh — I never told you that.” Wylan whipped his head around to face him; there was a mildly distressed expression on his face (which Kaz, of course, didn’t see).

Kaz shrugged, shaking the coins into the till. “Didn’t need to.”

“Van Eck?” said Jesper. “As in high-and-mighty merch Van Eck?”

“Yep,” Wylan said to his shoes.

“The Van Eck whose smarmy face is plastered all around Ketterdam? The one who’s gunning for a spot at the head of the Merchant Council?”

“That’d be the one.” The tips of Wylan’s ears had gone noticeably pink.

“Huh.” Jesper ripped a hunk off his croissant and took a thoughtful bite. “What’s a merchling like you doing in retail?”

“Working,” Wylan said shortly.

Jesper snorted. “Well, paint me red and call me Mister Crimson,” he said, nudging Wylan in the side with his elbow. “Welcome to the world of the working man.”

“Thank you.” Wylan cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels. “I’m, um. I’m going to go get that duster.” He vanished behind the fiction shelves without another word.

“Bit twitchy, that one, isn’t he?” Jesper said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “I’d love to know how he landed here.”

“So would I,” said Kaz, sliding the drawer shut with a clatter.

Jesper spun around to face him, legs crossed, pointedly ignoring the way Kaz glared at him for putting his shoes up on the counter. “What, did you not hire him yourself?”

“No. Haskell sprung him on me first thing this morning.”

“A classic Haskell move,” Jesper said sagely. “D’you think he’ll be a good fit, at least?”

“That’s to be determined.”

“Whatever you say.” Jesper crammed the rest of his croissant into his mouth and dropped back down to the floor, nudging the pastry bag back in Kaz’s direction. “Give this to the newbie if you’re just gonna let it go stale.”

Kaz snatched up the bag and set it behind the counter. “Wash your hands, Jesper.”

He was met with a wink and a dazzling smile as Jesper saluted him with a chocolate-frosted hand. “Will do.”

Next chapter

Read it on wattpad and ao3

A/N:

uh oh! it's the beginning of my lowercase titles era. i very much lifted this title (and the names of all the chapters) from the new fall out boy album. please be supportive of my brave and groundbreaking choice.

this fic has been spinning in circles at the back of my brain since i read pyrrhlc's "latte art," and it's already like 14k words long as of when i'm posting the first chapter. i'm going a little bit crazy. i work in a bookstore and i love bookstores and i also love kaz brekker, so of course i'm going to make him work in one, too. of course i am. welcome to retail, motherfucker.

man, it sure is weird that wylan van eck is working at a bookshop. what's all that about?

[lavenderdreams205]

Forgive me if this doesn't make sense but

Dean understands himself. He is not drowning in internalized homophobia. He doesn't not know that he's into men. What Dean is, however, is a liar. He lies to everyone, all the time. I think this touches on the queer experience in a way we dont always see in media. We always talk about coming out and coming out scenes but what we never talk about why we come out. It's because of how difficult the lying is. But deans lied about everything, all his life. Not just about his sexuality, or things related to hunting. But he lies (directly or by ommission) about the music he likes, the clothes he likes, literally everything, just to fit into this box of what everyone expects him to be. He understands himself, you just don't have the critical thinking skills to see past his lies, you take his word at face value even though the show has told you repeatedly that dean is a liar

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

it’s just that endverse!castiel and demon!dean would match each other’s freak. kind of tragic they never met

[farenmaddox]

hey so remember in season 8 of Supernatural when someone repeatedly poked holes into Cas's brain and he had a mini Winter Soldier arc?

And remember at the end of 8x21 when he showed up bleeding on the road and then we skip straight to him being like, fine at the opening of 8x22 the next morning?

I literally "boo"ed at my screen about that, because it was such a missed opportunity for whump and pain and desperate confusion because he has holes in his brain. Missed opportunity for him to just have to trust Dean to take care of him for a minute. Missed opportunity for Dean to have to go "maybe my anger is not as important as his actual life."

So anyway, I'm writing a fic.

[mischieviem]

Lesbeams

[fallenangelblade]

a grieving, haunted, restless dean winds up at a tattoo shop and gets the handprint inked back onto his shoulder

[casdeans-pie]

Dean asks Cas to teach him Enochian.

So Cas teaches him Enochian.

They sit together in the bunker - chairs next to each other, elbow to elbow, books spread out around them, and Dean learns the language of the Angels from his own.

Dean makes quips about Cas being his teacher, and offhandedly asks what he can possibly do to get extra credit.... Cas looks at him with complete and utter incomprehension while Dean has an internal meltdown at how that came out without meaning it to.

Dean's actually very focused when he has a goal - so he studies and he reads and he's genuinely a good student. He practices his pronunciation (which Cas has said 'is fine' but said it with the expression of someone in pain, so he knows it sucks) while he's cooking or in the shower, and Sam remarks more than once how Dean could have gone to college.

Dean still gets frustrated when he can't remember a certain word too many times, or can't wrap his head around a specific turn of phrase, but he also kind of loves it when he says something and Cas smiles with amusement at what he's said. It dawns on him that he's the one speaking strangely in Cas's language now, instead of the other way around.

The first time Dean speaks in almost fluent conversational Enochian he is so proud and pleased but Cas looks like hes going to throw up, and Dean thinks he must have got something wrong again. He doesn't know that Cas is having to physically hold himself back from immediately exiting his vessel and shattering every window in Lebanon with the force of his joy.

[saturnneedsspace]

Dean misremembering the purgatory portal scene is altering my brain chemistry in so many ways. What do you mean Dean remembered it as him not being able to save Cas because he wasn't strong enough, but in reality Cas let go??? We know he remembers some things perfectly like when Cas went into the lake because he had nightmares about that, but how many other things does he misremember? Does he remember Mary dying? Does he remember all his fights with Cas? Does he remember all the times Sam died? This was such a missed opportunity to do more. They could've made Dean even more traumatized by having him misremember something for so long, and then him having to learn it was completely different and having a whole crisis about it.

[lovealwayssay]

I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.

[mickeys-been-staying-at-ians]

So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Your eyes were wide, terrified, and your breathing was ragged. You couldn't believe what—who you were staring at. "You're—you're dead. I saw you die. You were dead," you stuttered. "What the hell is this?"

Cas took a step toward you, his cobalt eyes soft and concerned, his hands in front of him in a show of good will. "I was. But now—I'm not."

You stepped back as he stepped forward. Your heart was screaming for you to believe him, but your head was yelling that it was impossible. "No—no, you were dead!"

"Y/N—it's me. Somehow, I was resurrected. I don't know how myself. I was gone. But now I'm back..."

You felt as if your knees were about to buckle. Tears stung in your eyes. Your heart was starting to beat out your head... "Is it—it can't really be—"

He took another cautious step forward. More than anything, he wanted to feel you in his arms again, press you against him, but you were still stunned staring at him with wide eyes.

"If it's really you, tell me something—tell me something only you would know," you said suddenly.

Cas nearly smiled. This would be easy. He knew everything little thing about you. He never forgot a single thing you told him or that he noticed, consider it an angelic super power. "You never liked Sesame Street as a child. You thought it was too loud. Your favorite tea is Wild Sweet Orange. You always sleep in socks, even in hot weather. Your first pet was a floppy-eared black bunny named Midnight. And—" another step toward you, "—the first time I kissed you was on that case in Kentucky, underneath the wisteria, and when I pulled back completely terrified, you grabbed me and kissed me again. And ever since then, I've never wanted to be parted from you for a single moment."

A tear broke out and ran down over your cheek. Your lips parted and though your eyes were still wide, they were less fearful. "I thought I was never going to see you again."

"I know," Cas said, nodding. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. But, somehow, I'm here now and—"

He didn't need to say anymore, couldn't in fact, because you were kissing him. And it was almost as if no time had passed. You fell into each other the way two kindred souls do.

Prompt: "You're dead. I saw you die. You were dead!"

[v1ntagecassette]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar/Nina Zenik, Kaz Brekker & The Crows Ensemble, Kaz Brekker & Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey Summary: A familiar face turns up at the bakery. Kaz broods on his way to work. A staff meeting is crashed.

[lila-lou]

✨Littlest Winchester✨

Summary: You were always all about Christmas, but this year your excitement was through the roof—mixed with a hint of nervousness. You had big news to share with Dean, and the thought of it made your heart race with both joy and a touch of fear.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: bit of Angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 8706

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

Dean groaned as you shoved him, shifting slightly before blinking awake. His arm instinctively reached back for you, but you were already halfway out of bed, practically buzzing with excitement.

“What the hell, Y/N”, he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s too early for this”.

You turned around, your grin widening as you saw his messy hair and the way he tried to bury his face back into the pillow. “It’s Christmas, Dean! Come on, get up!”.

He cracked one eye open, clearly unimpressed, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “You’re like a kid”, he muttered, but despite his grumbling, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

You laughed, pulling at his arm to try and drag him out of bed. “Exactly! And we’ve got a whole day ahead. Presents, food… everything”.

Dean groaned again, louder this time, and reached out his arm, trying to pull you back toward the bed. “C’mon, baby”, he muttered, his voice low and husky. “Just… five more minutes. It’s freezing out there, and this bed is perfect right now”.

You shook your head, laughing softly as he wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto the mattress. “Dean! We have the whole day! I don’t want to waste it”, you said, even as you felt his warmth surround you, making it harder to resist the temptation to stay.

He grinned lazily, clearly enjoying his victory as you reluctantly settled back beside him. “The day’s not going anywhere”, he murmured, his voice a little softer now. “Besides, Christmas can wait. Let’s just stay here… just a little longer”. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, and you could feel his breath against your neck as he nestled closer.

For a moment, you almost gave in. The way Dean held you, his warmth, the quietness of the room—it was all too comfortable. But then your excitement bubbled up again, and you gently nudged him. “Dean, come on”, you urged, trying to wiggle free from his grip.

Dean let out an exaggerated groan, burying his face deeper into the pillow as you tried to escape his grasp. “You’re killing me, Y/N”, he muttered, his arm tightening around you one last time before finally loosening his grip. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for the pie”.

You laughed, finally free as you sprang out of bed, your energy contagious. Dean rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head, watching you with a lazy smirk as you practically skipped around the room.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re excited”, he teased, his voice still thick with sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair as he sat up. “But if I don’t smell coffee in the next five minutes, you’re on your own”.

You shot him a playful glare before heading toward the door, the excitement bubbling up again.

Dean pulled on his sweatpants and a shirt, giving one last stretch before heading out of the room. He followed you quietly through the bunker, the coolness of the metal halls contrasting with the warmth of your festive decorations. You had spent weeks transforming the usually stark and utilitarian space into something that actually felt like Christmas—string lights hung from the walls, garlands draped over the railings, and a big tree sat proudly in the corner of the main room, covered in ornaments.

As Dean walked, he couldn’t help but smirk at how much effort you’d put into it. The bunker, usually so cold and impersonal, felt almost… homey. He’d never been one for Christmas decorations, but he had to admit, seeing the place like this wasn’t so bad.

When he finally reached the kitchen, you were already bustling around, pouring a mug of coffee and humming to yourself. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of cinnamon from a candle you had insisted on lighting every morning.

Dean leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment. “You know, you’ve really outdone yourself with this whole Christmas thing”, he said, his tone half teasing, half genuine. “Didn’t think the bunker could look this… festive”.

You turned around, grinning as you handed him a mug. “Well, someone had to bring the holiday spirit. If it were up to you, we’d have nothing but a six-pack and maybe a couple of leftover slices of pizza to celebrate”.

Dean chuckled, taking the coffee gratefully. “Hey, nothing wrong with that. But I gotta admit, the tree’s kinda growing on me”.

That’s when Sam stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed—because he had. He squinted at the lights. You could see him suppressing a yawn as he leaned against the counter, blinking at the sight of the two of you.

“Morning”, he muttered, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the coffee pot. “Knew I’d be dead if I slept in today”, he added with a smirk in your direction, his voice gravelly with sleep.

You grinned, lifting your mug in mock salute. “Damn right, Winchester. It’s Christmas, not time to laze around”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he watched Sam pour himself some coffee.

Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowing slightly as a mischievous grin crept onto his face. He leaned back against the counter, casually crossing his arms. “Speaking of lazing around, Dean, I didn’t think you’d even be up by now, considering you’ve got a whole new reason to stay in bed these days”, he teased, casting a glance your way.

Dean shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really, Sammy? That’s what we’re doing now?”.

Sam smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun at his brother. “What? I’m just saying, Y/N’s got you wrapped around her finger. I never thought I’d see the day Dean Winchester gets out of bed early on Christmas morning without complaining. Miracles do happen”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but you could see the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking, Sasquatch”.

Sam chuckled, clearly not done with the teasing. “I’m just saying, she’s got you doing things I never thought possible. I mean, you’re practically domesticated, Dean. Next thing we know, you’ll be cooking us a Christmas dinner and wearing an apron”.

Dean scoffed, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. “Yeah, right. Like I’d ever let you two anywhere near my cooking. And for the record, Y/N hasn’t ‘domesticated’ anything. I’m still the same badass I’ve always been”.

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully, crossing your arms. “Oh really? Because I distinctly remember someone helping me hang Christmas lights last week without complaining once”.

Dean pointed at you, his grin widening. “Hey, I did that under protest, and I still managed to look cool doing it”.

Sam burst out laughing. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘cool’ like untangling lights and getting glitter all over yourself”.

You grinned, stepping closer to Dean and leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. “You’re still a badass”, you mumbled against his mouth, your hand resting on his chest.

Dean smirked, his eyes darkening playfully as he pulled you closer, his hand slipping to give your butt a squeeze. “Damn right I am”, he grumbled quietly, his lips brushing against your ear. “And tonight, I’m gonna show you just how much of a badass I really am”.

You blushed slightly, biting your lip, but before you could respond, Sam cleared his throat loudly, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a spatula from the counter. “Alright, lovebirds. Save it for later”. He gave Dean a pointed look and shook his head, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dean just laughed, completely unbothered. “What? You’d understand if you weren’t such a giant prude”.

Sam chuckled and turned his attention back to the stove, where the eggs you’d been cooking were starting to sizzle. “Speaking of helping, you two might want to focus on breakfast before I have to scrape these off the pan”. He stirred the eggs, giving Dean a mock glare. “You’re not getting out of this one, man. You can help with breakfast if you’re not too busy being a badass”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more quick kiss, his lips lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. "Alright, alright", he muttered with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips as you returned to the stove, taking over where Sam left off with the eggs. As you stirred them, you could feel Dean’s gaze still on you, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest. Sam was right—Dean might act tough and gruff most of the time, but with you, it was different. There was a softness he showed only around you, a vulnerability he never let anyone else see. And honestly, it felt good knowing you had him wrapped around your finger in a way no one else ever had.

Dean walked up behind you, resting his hand casually on the small of your back as he grabbed the coffee pot to refill his mug. "These eggs better be good, or you’re gonna have to explain to Sam why I’m stealing all the bacon later".

Sam snorted from the other side of the kitchen, glancing over with a smirk. "You’re such a drama queen, Dean. It’s breakfast, not a five-star restaurant".

"Hey, breakfast is important", Dean shot back, leaning against the counter with a mock-serious look. "And so is bacon. Especially on Christmas morning".

You laughed, shaking your head as you finished scrambling the eggs, the smell of food filling the bunker and blending with the warmth of the decorations around you. “Relax, Winchester. You’ll get your bacon”.

Dean raised his mug in a mock toast. “Now you’re talking my language”.

As Sam set the table, you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the scene—two brothers you cared about, a peaceful morning for once, and a Christmas that actually felt like something worth celebrating. Despite everything life threw at you, moments like this made it all worthwhile.

Just as you set the plates of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table, a sudden whoosh of air filled the room, and before you could react, Jack appeared right in the middle of the kitchen, his usual bright smile lighting up his face.

“Good morning!”, Jack exclaimed, his excitement palpable. “Merry Christmas!”.

Dean nearly spilled his coffee, glancing up with a start. “Damn it, Jack! We’ve talked about the whole ‘teleporting without warning’ thing”.

Before Jack could respond, there was another rustle, and Cas stepped into the kitchen, as calm and collected as ever. “Dean”, he said in his familiar, gravelly tone, “we’re here for breakfast, not to startle you”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched Dean roll his eyes, clearly trying to keep his usual grumpy demeanor in place, though you could tell he was glad to see them. “Yeah, well, maybe next time use the front door like normal people”, Dean muttered, but his grin betrayed him as he waved them over.

Jack, seemingly oblivious to the grumbling, beamed at the sight of the Christmas decorations you had put up. “Wow, Y/N! The bunker looks amazing! It feels so… festive!”.

You smiled, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks, Jack. Took a bit of work, but it’s worth it”.

Cas, standing beside Jack, nodded his approval. “It’s a significant improvement. Very… homey”.

Dean snorted, muttering under his breath, “Great, now even Cas is getting sappy”. But there was no hiding the fondness in his voice.

Sam grinned at Jack and Cas, pulling out chairs for them. “Perfect timing, guys. Y/N just finished making breakfast. You’re just in time”.

Jack’s eyes lit up as he sat down eagerly, glancing at the spread of eggs, bacon, and toast. “I love breakfast!”.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he sat down across from him. “Jack, you love every meal”.

Jack shrugged with a sheepish smile. “That’s true. But breakfast is especially good”.

Cas sat beside Jack, his eyes scanning the table thoughtfully. “I don’t require food, but I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll join you”.

Dean caught your eye as you both sat down, his hand brushing against yours under the table. He didn’t say anything, but the warmth in his gaze said it all: this, right here, was what mattered.

As the breakfast continued, the table filled with the sound of clinking forks and Jack excitedly recounting some recent stories, Cas began to grow unusually quiet. You noticed him eyeing you from across the table, his piercing blue gaze lingering on you with that familiar intensity that usually meant he had picked up on something. His brows furrowed slightly, and you bit your lip, silently hoping he’d just tune into Jack’s enthusiastic chatter.

But then, Cas tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing as they dropped to your stomach. “Y/N”, he started, his voice cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere, “something feels… off”.

Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel Dean glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. Cas’ eyes were still fixed on you, a mix of confusion and concern etched across his face, and you knew he was sensing something that you weren’t quite ready to discuss. Not yet.

Cas opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything more, you stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “Cas, could you help me with something in the library?”, you asked quickly, trying to keep your voice steady, but the urgency in your tone was hard to miss.

Dean’s gaze shifted fully to you now, his brows furrowing slightly. “Baby, you barely ate”, he said softly, nodding towards your plate that still had most of the eggs untouched.

You forced a small smile, your heart racing. “I’ll be right back. I just need to check something with Cas. Won’t take long”.

Jack, still caught up in his own world, barely seemed to notice the tension as he continued his story to Sam. But Dean wasn’t fooled, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before nodding toward Cas, silently pleading with him to follow you without asking any more questions.

Cas stood slowly, his expression still unreadable but compliant, and followed you out of the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, you let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The last thing you needed was Cas revealing something in front of everyone before you even had a chance to wrap your head around it yourself.

Cas watched you with that deep, unblinking intensity, his hands still tucked into the familiar folds of his trench coat. The silence between you felt heavy, the air thick with the tension of unspoken words. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, that angelic perception of his already picking up on things you hadn’t fully come to terms with yet.

And then it happened.

In the quiet stillness of the library, his gaze sharpened slightly. His head tilted once more, and his eyes flicked to your stomach. It was as though something invisible had clicked into place. The faintest sound of another heartbeat reached his celestial senses, soft yet distinct, tucked away beneath your own.

His eyes widened in realization, and he straightened up, his voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s… another heartbeat”.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as the reality of it hit you again. You hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t even allowed yourself to fully embrace it yet. But now, with Cas staring at you like he’d just uncovered a truth written in the stars, it was impossible to avoid.

Cas stepped closer, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and understanding. “Y/N… you’re pregnant”.

There it was—out in the open. The secret you had been carrying alone, unsure of how to even approach it. The words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy, as if they had the power to change everything.

You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to the floor as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “I—I found out a while ago. I haven’t told Dean yet”.

Cas watched you closely, his blue eyes filled with understanding as you hesitated. The weight of your secret had been building up inside you, and now that it was out in the open—at least with Cas—it felt like you were one step closer to facing it. But there was still the looming task of telling Dean, and that, above all, made your heart race.

You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you admitted, “I’m planning on telling him tonight”.

Cas nodded, his expression gentle and supportive. “That’s a good idea, Y/N. It’s important that he hears it from you, and in your own time”.

You bit your lip, feeling the nerves bubble up again. “I know. I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment, the right words… but I don’t think there’s ever going to be a perfect time, is there?”.

Cas shook his head slightly. “No, but Dean will understand. He’ll want to be there for you, for both of you”.

You sighed softly, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just… it’s a lot. And with everything we’ve been through—demons, angels, hunting—it’s hard to imagine something like this fitting into our lives”.

Cas took a step closer, his presence calming. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. You’ve been through so much together, and this will be another challenge, but one filled with love. Dean will rise to the occasion”.

You smiled weakly, grateful for Cas’ steady reassurance. “Thanks, Cas. I really needed to hear that”.

Cas nodded, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips, a sight so uncommon that it momentarily eased the tension in your chest. It was reassuring, the way he could offer comfort without saying too much, just being present and understanding in his quiet, angelic way.

"You’re welcome, Y/N", he said softly, that smile lingering. "It’s going to be alright. You’re not alone in this".

You felt a surge of emotion at his words. Cas always had this way of making even the most overwhelming situations seem manageable, like everything was just part of a bigger plan. You were about to face one of the biggest moments of your life, but somehow, in this moment, with Cas standing there, it didn’t feel as impossible as it had before.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to bring it up", you admitted, a hint of nervousness creeping back into your voice. “Dean’s not exactly the best at handling surprises”.

Cas’ small smile grew slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. “True, but he has a way of adapting, especially when it comes to you”.

You chuckled softly, rubbing your hands together nervously. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”.

Cas’ expression grew more serious again as he added, “Dean cares for you deeply. That won’t change, no matter what you tell him tonight”.

You nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay. Tonight”.

You gave him a small, grateful smile and then glanced back toward the kitchen. "We should get back before Dean gets suspicious”.

Cas simply followed your gaze, and with a subtle shift of his posture, you both started making your way back to the kitchen. As you stepped inside, the sound of Jack’s laughter filled the room, and the warmth of the holiday decorations felt a little more comforting now.

Dean immediately looked up from his seat, his green eyes locking onto yours. His brow furrowed slightly, but he smiled, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that always managed to make your heart skip a beat. “Everything good?”, he asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity.

You smiled back at him, nodding as you returned to your seat next to him. “Yeah, everything’s good”, you said softly, your hand finding his under the table again, needing that connection for just a bit longer.

Dean glanced between you and Cas but didn’t press further. Instead, he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture of quiet comfort.

The rest of the breakfast carried on with Jack and Sam exchanging stories, Cas chiming in now and then with his calm, straightforward insights. And while the atmosphere was light, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the conversation that was coming later.

As the day went on, the soft hum of holiday cheer filled the bunker. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, eagerly helping to wrap the last few presents, his excitement almost palpable as he concentrated on folding the wrapping paper with precision. “Do you think they’ll like them?”, he asked, glancing up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

You smiled warmly, watching him try his best to mimic the way you wrapped the gifts. “They’ll love them, Jack”, you assured him. “It’s the thought that counts, and you’ve put a lot of thought into these”.

Jack beamed, his joy infectious. “I hope so. I want this Christmas to be perfect”.

As you carefully taped the final gift, your eyes drifted over to Cas, who sat in the corner of the room, staring down at the bright red and green Christmas sweater you’d made him wear earlier in the day. It had a knitted image of a reindeer on it, complete with a blinking red nose, and while the sweater fit him perfectly, Cas looked incredibly out of place.

He tugged slightly at the fabric near his neck, his expression unreadable as he muttered, “This garment feels… unusual”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “It’s supposed to feel a little weird. It’s a Christmas sweater, Cas. They’re meant to be festive, not comfortable”.

Cas raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “I fail to understand how wearing this contributes to the holiday spirit”.

Jack looked up from his wrapping and grinned. “It’s part of the tradition, Castiel. You wear silly clothes, eat too much food, and spend time with the people you care about. That’s the spirit of Christmas”.

Cas glanced at Jack, his confusion softening into contemplation. “I see”, he murmured, his eyes moving down to the blinking reindeer on his chest once more. “It is… rather distracting”.

You chuckled, moving to sit beside him for a moment. “You’re doing great, Cas. You’re embracing the whole Christmas thing, and that’s what counts”.

He nodded slowly, though his fingers continued to tug at the sweater, as if he were still trying to understand its purpose. “I suppose if it makes everyone happy, I can tolerate it for a little while longer”.

Jack beamed at Cas, clearly pleased that he was trying to join in. “It looks good on you, Cas. Really festive!”.

Cas gave a small nod of acknowledgment but looked a little like he’d rather be anywhere else than wearing that sweater. Still, it was a rare moment of levity in their otherwise intense lives, and you were glad to see him at least making an effort.

The day passed peacefully, the bunker filled with laughter and quiet conversation. Sam and Dean had gone out to get the final groceries for dinner, leaving you with some much-needed quiet time to prepare mentally for the conversation you were planning to have later.

Just as you began peeling potatoes for dinner, the sound of Jody’s familiar voice echoed through the bunker, followed by the laughter and chatter of her girls, Claire and Alex.

Cas, Jack, and Sam were quick to step outside to help unload the car. From the doorway, you could see Jack’s enthusiasm, practically bouncing on his heels as they brought in armfuls of presents from the back of Jody’s truck.

You smiled to yourself, grateful for the warmth that filled the bunker today. It wasn’t just the twinkling lights or the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background; it was the people—this makeshift family that had come together, in all their strange, supernatural, and human ways.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, strong and familiar. Before you could react, Dean’s hands slid around your waist, splaying across your belly as he pressed his body close to yours. His lips found the side of your neck, leaving soft kisses that sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.

“Hey”, he whispered against your skin, his voice low and teasing. “You’ve been running around all day. Figured I’d steal a minute”.

You exhaled, momentarily forgetting about the potatoes as you leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands spread through you. His fingers brushed against your belly gently, and for a second, a rush of nerves tightened your chest. He didn’t know yet, and his hands were right there, resting over the secret you hadn’t yet shared.

Dean must have felt the shift in your body because he paused, his lips still on your neck but now still. “You okay, sweetheart?”.

You forced a smile, even though your heart raced beneath your chest. “Yeah, just… thinking about everything we have to get done”.

He chuckled, clearly not suspecting anything. “You’ve got this”, he said confidently, his hands giving your stomach a soft squeeze before he moved his lips to your ear. “And later tonight, we’ll make some time for just us. Sound good?”.

Your breath caught again, not from his words but from the weight of what you knew you had to tell him. You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah”, you whispered. “Later”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more lingering kiss on the neck before pulling back. "You need any help here?", he asked, nodding toward the potatoes you’d been peeling, but before you could answer, Jody stepped into the kitchen with her usual air of confident warmth, followed closely by Alex, both clearly ready to jump in and take over.

Jody smiled as she caught sight of Dean standing so close to you. “I think you’ve got enough on your plate, Dean”, she teased lightly, her eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you let the ladies handle dinner, and you can make yourself useful elsewhere?”.

Dean chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You know where to find me if you need the real help”.

Jody rolled her eyes playfully before turning toward you. “Looks like we’ve got things covered in here, Y/N. What do you say we get this show on the road?”.

You gave her a grateful smile as Alex moved to your side, eager to pitch in. "Sounds good to me".

Before Dean could make another comment, Jody pointed toward the door, a mischievous grin on her face. "Dean, why don’t you, Sam, Cas, and Claire set up the tables in the library for dinner? I want it to look nice. You boys can handle a little decorating, can’t you?".

Dean snorted. “Decorating? Uh, sure, we’ll handle it”.

Claire, who had just come in, overheard Jody’s instructions and immediately protested. "Decorating? Seriously, Jody?", she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. "You know I’m not exactly the Martha Stewart type".

Jody shot her a mock-serious look. "It’s Christmas, Claire. And you’re part of this family, which means you help".

Claire grumbled under her breath, but the small smile playing at her lips told you she wasn’t really upset.

Dean, hearing her complaints, threw an arm around Claire’s shoulders as they both walked out of the kitchen. “Come on, kid. We’ll make Cas do the heavy lifting. You and I can just supervise”.

Claire smirked, shaking her head but following along anyway, while you could hear Sam and Cas joining in, their voices fading as they headed toward the library.

With the boys and Claire out of the kitchen, the room settled into a comfortable hum as you, Jody, and Alex set to work on dinner. The smell of freshly peeled potatoes filled the air as you and Alex continued prepping, while Jody took command of the oven, expertly sliding in a tray of seasoned vegetables.

“So”, Jody said, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow as she wiped her hands on a towel. “How are you holding up? Got a lot on your mind, I bet”.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand pausing mid-peel, before you nodded. “Yeah… you could say that”.

Jody gave you one of her knowing looks, that calm, motherly intuition she always carried. “Anything you want to talk about?”.

You smiled softly, appreciating the offer, but shook your head. “Not right now. But… thanks, Jody”.

She nodded, not pressing, but you could tell she understood. "Whenever you're ready".

Alex, sensing the shift in conversation, changed the subject, her voice bright as she asked about dessert ideas. The easy banter and lighthearted chatter that followed made you feel a little more grounded, and soon, the rhythm of preparing the Christmas feast fell into place, calming your nerves.

As you worked alongside Jody and Alex, you could hear occasional bursts of laughter coming from the library, a sure sign that the boys—and Claire—were enjoying their task despite the initial complaints. You couldn’t help but smile, imagining the chaos they were creating while attempting to set up the dinner tables.

Tonight was still hanging over you, but for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. The warmth, the laughter, the love that filled the bunker—it was all the reassurance you needed. Whatever came next, you’d face it surrounded by the people who had become your family.

Two hours later, the whole group was gathered around the large table in the library, now decorated with Christmas lights and a mix of festive table settings. Laughter and conversation filled the room, creating a warm, comforting atmosphere that made the bunker feel more like a real home. The scent of roasted vegetables, savory meat, and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as everyone dug into the Christmas dinner you had all worked so hard to prepare.

You sat between Dean and Sam, your plate in front of you looking more full than it should, considering the slight wave of nausea that had settled over you. Despite your best efforts, eating wasn’t coming as easily as you’d hoped. It was frustrating, really—you felt like you were starving, but every bite seemed to turn heavy the moment it hit your stomach. Still, you kept a huge smile plastered across your face, determined to enjoy the moment.

As Jody regaled the group with stories from her last Christmas with Claire and Alex, everyone at the table was engaged, laughing and reacting to her animated storytelling. Claire rolled her eyes playfully at some of the more embarrassing details, but there was no denying the affection in her gaze as she listened to Jody.

“And then”, Jody continued, gesturing wildly with her fork, “Claire decided it would be a great idea to chop down her own Christmas tree—without telling me. She borrowed my axe and came back with this tiny, crooked thing. Looked like Charlie Brown’s tree on a bad day”.

Everyone erupted in laughter, Claire groaning dramatically as she covered her face with her hands. “It wasn’t that bad!”, she protested, but the grin on her face betrayed her.

Alex chimed in, laughing, “Oh, it was that bad. You’re lucky it didn’t fall over on us while we were decorating it”.

Dean chuckled beside you, shaking his head. “Sounds like Claire and I would’ve gotten along just fine as kids”.

“Of course you would”, Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Mischief attracts mischief”.

You laughed along with them, though you could feel your stomach turning slightly as you pushed some mashed potatoes around your plate. Dean, ever observant, glanced at you between bites, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

“Hey”, he said quietly, leaning in so only you could hear. “You okay? You’ve barely touched your food”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you offered him a reassuring smile, though you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… not as hungry as I thought I’d be”.

Dean studied you for a moment, his hand resting gently on your knee under the table. He didn’t press further, though, which you appreciated. Instead, he gave your leg a soft squeeze before turning back to the conversation, his worry still lingering just beneath the surface.

As the evening went on, you focused on the stories and laughter around you, feeling the love and joy that filled the room. Jack, seated between Cas and Sam, was practically glowing with excitement, his eyes wide as he listened intently to each person who spoke, soaking in the warmth of the holiday spirit like it was something magical.

Occasionally, you managed a few bites of food, but the queasiness never quite went away. Still, the happiness of the evening made it easier to push the discomfort aside. Jody’s stories continued, one after another, each more hilarious than the last, and soon the entire table was in fits of laughter.

“I swear”, Jody said, wiping a tear from her eye as she finished another tale, “Christmas with these girls is never boring. If it’s not Claire taking an axe to a tree, it’s Alex burning cookies in the oven”.

Alex gasped in mock offense. “That was one time, Jody!”.

Sam grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like a Winchester Christmas, alright”.

Dean chuckled, but his attention shifted to you again, his hand still resting gently on your leg. He shot you a quick glance, as if making sure you were really okay, but before he could say anything, Jody changed the subject, pulling him back into the conversation.

For now, you kept your smile in place, the weight of your secret heavy in your heart.

The mood in the library was warm and festive as everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, glowing with twinkling lights. The bunker’s cold, utilitarian vibe had completely transformed into something that resembled a cozy family living room. Armchairs and smaller couches were draped around the tree, but despite the available space, Dean pulled you into his lap, grinning as he wrapped an arm around your waist, claiming you as his own little piece of Christmas comfort.

“Gotta save space, right?”, Dean teased, giving you a playful squeeze. You settled into him, your nerves still fluttering as you kept the small, tightly wrapped frame in your hands. You felt the solid weight of the secret within, the truth you were about to share, but you kept it to yourself for now, waiting for the right moment.

On the floor in front of the tree, Jack sat cross-legged, his eyes bright with excitement as he carefully picked up gifts, handing them out with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning. Sam sat nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him as he watched the scene with a fond smile. Claire and Alex were already ripping into their presents, while Jody smiled from the armchair, enjoying the chaos that had taken over the normally quiet bunker.

Dean, of course, had his focus on you, even as he tore into the gifts Jack handed him. His laughter filled the room as he opened a box from Sam containing a brand-new set of tools. “Knew I could count on you for the practical stuff”, Dean joked, giving Sam a wink.

You smiled softly, watching Dean enjoy the moment, but your heart raced as the small frame in your hands grew heavier. You could feel the ultrasound picture inside, the words Littlest Winchester written across the frame. You had thought about this moment a hundred times, imagined how it would go, but now that you were here, sitting on Dean’s lap, surrounded by the people you loved, you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest.

Jack continued handing out gifts, his excitement infectious as he passed a wrapped present to Cas, who opened it slowly, carefully peeling away the paper. Dean’s hands, however, rested lightly on your hips, and you could feel his attention shifting back to you between each gift. He was smiling, but there was something in his eyes, like he knew something was on your mind.

Dean leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You alright, sweetheart? You’ve been a little quiet”.

You nodded quickly, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the right moment”.

Dean’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t press you further. Instead, he turned his attention back to the last few gifts Jack was handing out. But you could feel his curiosity piqued—he knew something was up, but he was giving you space.

Finally, all the presents were opened, and the room was filled with the sounds of laughter, wrapping paper scattered across the floor. Dean leaned back, his arm still securely around your waist as he admired the various gifts he had received. “This was a damn good Christmas”, he said, his voice content. “You outdid yourself this year”.

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest as you held the small frame tighter in your hands. This was it. The right moment had arrived, and there was no turning back now.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly shifted in Dean’s lap, turning to face him slightly. “Dean”, you started softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I have one more gift for you”.

His eyes lit up with curiosity as he tilted his head. “Another one? You’re spoiling me, sweetheart”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. With trembling hands, you passed him the small, neatly wrapped frame. Dean looked down at it, his brow furrowing slightly as he took it from you, clearly sensing the significance behind it.

His fingers brushed against the wrapping paper as he tore it open, his usual playful smirk giving way to something more serious as he carefully peeled back the layers. When the frame finally emerged, his eyes immediately dropped to the image inside.

Dean froze.

His hand tightened around the frame, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the ultrasound picture. The words Littlest Winchester written across the top of the frame seemed to echo in the air between you. For a moment, everything else in the room faded away—Jack’s chatter, Claire’s teasing, even the warm glow of the Christmas tree seemed to disappear as Dean stared at the image in front of him.

His voice, when it finally came, was rough, barely a whisper. “Is this…?”.

Dean’s world seemed to stop as he stared at the ultrasound picture, his breath hitching in his throat. His eyes wide with disbelief and something else—something deeper, rawer. Right now, in this moment, it was as if the rest of the room had faded away. It was just you and him.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling inside of you. You bit your lip, your fingers trembling as you twisted them together anxiously in your lap. How would he react? This wasn’t planned. Hell, you’d been on the pill, doing everything right, and yet somehow this happened.

You had known that Dean always wanted kids, deep down. You had seen it in the way he looked at families whenever you passed them on the road, in the rare quiet moments when he let his guard down and talked about what could have been. But with his lifestyle—your lifestyle—it always seemed like an impossible dream. The topic had always been brushed off, a “what if” too dangerous to entertain.

Now, it wasn’t a “what if” anymore. It was real. It was happening. And you were terrified of how he might respond.

Tears welled in your eyes, your vision blurring as you nodded slowly, unable to find the strength to look at him. You stared down at your hands, twisting your fingers together as the silence stretched on, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

“I—I didn’t know… I was on the pill. I don’t know how this happened, but… it did”, you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears spilled over.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m scared. I don’t know what this means for us, for everything. I just… I know it’s not what we planned, and I don’t know how you feel about it…”.

Your voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—afraid that the dream you hadn’t let yourself believe in might come crashing down.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, you felt Dean’s hand move from the frame. His fingers found yours, gently prying your hands apart and wrapping them in his. His touch was warm, grounding you, and with that simple gesture, your heart clenched.

“Sweetheart”, Dean’s voice was low, thick with emotion as he finally spoke, and you could hear the slight tremble in it. He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Look at me”.

You hesitated, but the softness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, made you brave enough to lift your gaze to meet his. When you finally did, the sight of his eyes—wide, filled with awe and love, and glistening with unshed tears—took your breath away.

“You’re pregnant”, he whispered, like he was trying to wrap his mind around the reality of it. “We’re having a baby”.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile but was still too overwhelmed to fully let it through. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge everything you were feeling, trying to make sense of this new reality.

You nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, Dean. We’re having a baby”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand still rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, grounding you both in this new, terrifying, and beautiful reality.

And then, suddenly, Dean let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into the kind of smile you had rarely seen from him—one of pure, unfiltered joy. A small laugh escaped him, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders.

“We’re having a baby”, he repeated, this time with more conviction, his voice filled with wonder. “Holy crap”.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. You could feel the way his heart was racing, how overwhelmed and overjoyed he was, and it made the tears spill from your eyes all over again.

“I love you”, Dean murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I love you so much. I don’t care how it happened, I don’t care about the rest. This—this is the best damn Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten”.

You let out a sob of relief, burying your face into his chest as you held onto him, your fingers gripping his shirt as you let the emotions wash over you. All the fear, the anxiety, the uncertainty—it all melted away in his embrace.

Dean kissed the top of your head, holding you close as you both stayed like that for a long moment. Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your face wet with tears, but your heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

“Are you… are you really okay with this?”, you asked softly, still needing to hear it, still needing that final reassurance.

Dean’s eyes softened as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “More than okay”, he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve never been more okay with anything in my life”.

Dean pulled you in even tighter, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss that carried all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. His hand cradled the back of your head as if to ground both of you in the moment, making you feel safe, loved, and cherished. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky but filled with happiness.

Without even glancing away from you, Dean blindly handed the framed ultrasound to Sam, who had been watching the two of you closely. “Hey, Sammy, check this out”, Dean muttered, his voice still thick with awe and emotion.

Sam took the frame gingerly, his brow furrowing in confusion at first as he glanced down. But when he saw what was in his hands, his expression shifted, his eyes widening in shock as he realized what he was looking at. “Holy crap”, Sam whispered, his voice echoing Dean’s earlier reaction.

The room, which had grown quiet as everyone observed the moment between you and Dean, suddenly erupted in soft gasps and murmurs as Sam held up the frame for everyone to see.

Jody’s eyes lit up with a wide smile, and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. Claire and Alex exchanged looks, their usual tough exteriors softening into grins. Jack, sitting cross-legged on the floor, beamed, his face lighting up with pure joy. Even Cas, who had been quietly observing from the corner, allowed a rare smile to spread across his face, understanding the gravity of the moment.

Dean’s hand never left yours, his eyes locked on you as if he still couldn’t believe what was happening. “We’re really doing this”, he whispered softly, his voice full of love and a hint of disbelief.

You nodded, unable to stop the tears from flowing again, though this time they were tears of relief, happiness, and excitement for the future. “Yeah, we are”.

Sam, still holding the frame, finally found his voice again. “Dude, this is… this is incredible”. he said, his voice cracking slightly as he looked between you and Dean, his eyes misting over with pride. “I’m gonna be an uncle”.

Jody stood from her seat, stepping forward with a huge smile. “You two are going to be amazing parents”, she said warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. “This kid is already so loved”.

Claire let out a dramatic sigh from across the room, but there was no mistaking the affection in her tone. “Great, another Winchester to look after”, she teased with a smirk. “Just what we needed”.

Alex nudged Claire, rolling her eyes but laughing along. “Like you wouldn’t be first in line to babysit”.

Dean’s hand slowly wandered over your stomach, resting there as if he was already bonding with the little life growing inside you. He kept you close, his thumb lightly brushing your belly in a gentle, unconscious motion, and it sent a warmth through your entire body.

Then he looked over at Claire with that classic Dean Winchester smirk, teasingly raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you better believe you’re first in line for babysitting, Claire. You and Alex. It’s a Winchester tradition—gotta get you trained up for the dirty work early”.

Claire rolled her eyes dramatically, but her smile gave her away. “Yeah, right. I can already see it now—Dean and Y/N sneak out for a ‘quick hunt’ and I’m stuck with diaper duty”.

Dean chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “That’s the spirit! You’ll be a pro in no time, kid”.

Alex laughed from beside her, nudging Claire again. “Face it, Claire, you’re going to be Auntie Claire before you know it”.

Claire’s expression softened slightly, her tough exterior cracking just a little. “Yeah, well… I’ll do it, but only for the kid. Not for you, Dean”, she teased, crossing her arms.

Dean grinned, squeezing you closer as he shot Claire a wink. “Fair enough”.

Jack, who had been quietly observing with wide eyes, piped up from his spot on the floor. “I can help, too! I’ll keep the baby entertained, maybe teach them some… cool tricks”.

The entire room burst into laughter at that, and Dean’s hand squeezed your belly a little more, pulling you back into his chest with a look of mock concern. “Whoa, whoa, Jack. No angelic tricks around the baby just yet. We’re gonna need to stick with the basics first—like peek-a-boo, not teleporting”.

Jack nodded seriously, though the excitement in his eyes didn’t dim. “Right. No teleporting. Got it”.

Sam, still holding the framed ultrasound, smiled warmly as he watched the whole exchange, his gaze eventually landing back on you and Dean. “This kid’s going to be surrounded by more love—and more chaos—than it´ll know what to do with”.

Dean’s eyes softened as he met Sam’s gaze, the weight of the moment settling in once again. “Yeah”, he agreed, his voice quieter, more serious now. “That’s what family’s for, right?”.

You could feel Dean’s arm tighten around you protectively, and you leaned into him, feeling the overwhelming love and joy radiating from him. For so long, the idea of having a family seemed like an impossible dream for both of you, something that had been pushed aside in the face of all the danger and uncertainty. But now, sitting here surrounded by the people you loved, the dream was real.

Dean glanced down at you, his hand still resting protectively over your stomach, his expression softening into something deeper. “We’re really doing this”, he repeated, more to himself than anyone else, his eyes shining with quiet wonder.

You nodded, your hand resting on top of his as you smiled through your tears. “Yeah, Dean. We are”.

And in that moment, surrounded by your family and the warm glow of Christmas lights, everything felt right—like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. The future, as uncertain as it always seemed, felt full of hope and love. And as Dean held you close, his hand never leaving your belly, you knew that no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

[th30ra3k3n]

because my love for you is far greater than words,

i’ve decided to keep quiet.

(nizar qabbani)

for @disasterpenguin 🖤

[wanderingcas]

so the s12 truth spell case fic i'm writing is going well <3