#cas: =_= yes dean tells me this is customary

[castiellesbian]

Dean at the party store buying sweet sixteen decorations and when the cashier is like oh whose birthday are you celebrating he's like "this guy" and points to the middle aged man in a trench coat with the deepest eyebags ever seen

[sobsicles]

claire's not expecting them to be at the door. she blinks at the sight of four men all huddled on the stoop with flowers and what appears to be bags of food flowing from their arms. jack is peeking above a bouquet, beaming at her.

"who's at the door?!" jody calls from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the sound of grease popping and the clanking of pans and spatulas meeting over and over.

"god," claire calls back, because she likes to think she's funny.

there's a beat of silence, and then jody's sticking her head out the kitchen. the moment she sees them, she breaks out into a grin and saunters over, shoving the spatula in claire's hand as she chatters away.

"what's going on out there?" donna asks as claire escapes back to the kitchen to poke at food jody is apparently willing to burn just because the winchesters decided to show their faces today of all days.

"judgement day," claire says dryly.

donna shares a look with patience. "haven't we dealt with that already a few times?"

"only by association," claire admits, "but i wouldn't put it past them to bring it along with 'em now. the boys are here."

"oh, isn't that nice?" donna chirps, already popping up from her chair. "i didn't know they were stopping by today."

"wonder how sam's doing," patience agrees, wandering out the kitchen right along with donna. claire can hear everyone cracking up and talking in the living room.

trust the winchesters to shake things up just by showing up. can't have one goddamn day, can they? well, that's not true. in their case, as far as claire is concerned, they're shitty for showing up and shitty for not. someone has to knock 'em all down a peg or two, so she might as well be the one.

"what did that chicken ever do to you?" kaia asks teasingly as she sidles into the kitchen and stops by the stove, hip-checking claire out of the way to take over.

"the boys are here," claire informs her.

kaia raises her eyebrows. "like, the boys as in the winchesters, or is this a milkshake pun?"

"i can only be so gay, sweetheart," claire says, shooting her a flat look.

"raise the bar a little. could be gayer. you can always be gayer," kaia teases, reaching out to sneak her hand around claire's hip, her eyes bright with amusement.

"you know what? you're right," claire agrees and immediately tries to cop a feel while kaia laughs and dances out of range.

jack appears in the doorway. "hello," he says, whispering for some reason. "claire, i need your help."

"no," claire says, not even glancing at him. she continues to try and put her hand up kaia's shirt, just to see her laugh.

"can i borrow twenty dollars?" jack asks.

"no. aren't you god?"

"yes, but i don't get paid to be."

"well, sucks for you. borrow money from cas," claire mutters, settling in behind kaia as she focuses on the food on the stove, swatting lazily at claire's roaming hands.

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from sam."

"he'll just borrow money from dean."

"borrow from—wait, why does it matter if it's from dean? just borrow from him."

jack huffs. "i can't. i need the money for dean. i have a card, and i read online it's customary to give money with a card. also, will you sign it?"

"you got dean a card?" claire asks, craning her head around to stare at jack skeptically.

"yes."

"don't tell me it's for what i think it is."

"mother's day," jack confirms unironically.

claire wheezes out a laugh. "oh my god."

"there's a pen in the catty on the fridge," kaia says, clearly amused.

"yeah. yeah, this is—yeah." claire chokes on more laughter and stumbles towards the group of pens in the magnet container on the fridge. she waggles her fingers at jack, clearing her throat, lips twitching. "hand it over, beanstalk. you're a fucking genius."

"oh! thank you," jack declares cheerfully, passing over the card. "so, can i borrow twenty dollars?"

"hell no," claire says. she braces the card against the fridge and swallows down a laugh. sam has already signed it. this just gets better and better. happy mother's day, old man, aka the secondary source of my mommy and daddy issues. you're going for gold with this double-whammy, she writes.

"but i need it," jack insists, staring at her with wide eyes.

claire shrugs. "tough break, kid. what, cas doesn't give you an allowance? is it just me, or are dads getting stricter these days?"

"i didn't think about it in advance," jack admits sadly. "i want to do it right for the holiday. it's mother's day, claire."

"i'm well aware. sorry to break it to you, kid, but last I checked, your mom's as dead as mine," claire tells him, her voice flat. he frowns and she forces herself not to feel bad. everything that sucks for him sucked for her first, so her sympathy levels are a little drained. "father's day will roll around eventually, and you've got a long line of those, so wait your turn."

"i've already done something for my mother today," jack says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "i visited her in heaven."

claire snorts derisively and passes the card back over. "must be nice."

"it was," jack agrees, completely missing the point. "i really can't borrow twenty dollars? i'll pay you back."

"nah," claire says. "who cares anyway? wait, why is dean the mom?"

"well, castiel is my father."

"ah, so it's about them having the hots for each other, then? really, kid, you coulda just made dean your step-dad."

jack blinks. "they have the...hots for each other? you mean sex. they have sex?"

"you know what?" claire points at him with her free hand. "i'm not gonna burst your bubble on that one. you've got enough issues on your own without wondering if mommy and daddy still have a spark, so I'm gonna leave that alone. i've got five dollars. take it or leave it."

"deal," jack says immediately.

money is exchanged, and jack looks like he's on cloud nine. claire's just stoked to see the expression on dean's face when he gets the card. it's a homemade card and everything, nothing like the two claire, kaia, patience, and alex got for jody and donna.

claire helps kaia finish up the chicken, which promptly gets set aside to wait on the rest of the food in the oven. sam wanders in at some point to drop off the food they brought. dessert, by the looks of it. pies and cakes that go in the fridge. it's kind of them, but claire would shoot herself in the foot before she ever admits it.

she lets kaia tug her into the living room where everyone is already at, rolling her eyes at how cheered everyone seems just because the winchesters happened to grace their doorstep. really, they all suck.

but also—and claire will never admit this, not even to save her own life—it's nice to see 'em again. it's nice that they've come to celebrate the day in jody and donna's name, giving them flowers and such. it's nice that they hang around for a bit and don't bring the world crashing down on everyone for the duration of their stay.

and, well, it's nice to see cas, too.

he perches up next to the couch that claire is squeezed on with alex, donna, kaia, and jack. kaia is practically in her lap, but claire is secretly glad for the excuse. while everyone talks and has conversations across one another, cas focuses entirely on her.

another thing claire will never admit is how reluctantly pleased by that she is. it warms her. stupidly, it turns soft and gooey in her chest that he automatically gives her his undivided attention over everyone else, even jack. but, then again, it's not cas' day, so she doesn't have to look too close to that feeling. it's mother's day, so it's not about him.

when the food is ready, they reconvene in the kitchen, and that's when they crack out the cards and gifts. claire is practically vibrating with laughter before jack has even brought his card out. before that, though, she smiles softly and strokes kaia's thigh under the table as jody and donna read their cards and chuckle at the messages, their gazes warm and their smiles sweet. they look happy. they deserve to be.

"okay, last one," claire announces, grinning at jack. she's starting to think she likes this kid if he's an agent of chaos like this.

and okay, maybe she hates him a little in abstract, but in detail, she finds that she does actually like him. you kinda just wanna put him in your pocket without meaning to, she's learned. there's too much to explore with the whole psuedo sibling thing and parents that aren't parents, as well as parents that are but didn't choose to be, only he did choose one of them, and it wasn't her. it's complicated, but underneath it all, there's a vibrant love there that she can't look directly at. sometimes, she despises that she's included in it; yet, just the same, she's thankful that she is.

"oh hell," dean mutters, swinging his gaze between alex and patience. "one of you...ya know? did we miss something?"

claire snorts.

"what? no," alex replies, grimacing. "i have no idea what claire's talking about. claire, what the hell are you talking about?"

"jack?" claire prompts in a wheeze.

"here you go," jack chirps, holding out the card to dean, beaming. "happy mother's day."

the expression on dean's face is somehow even better than claire imagined. she howls with laughter while sam buries his face in his hands, his shoulders jerking. cas squints at jack, and jody's eyebrows fly up at the same exact time that donna grins.

"is this a joke?" dean sputters.

"no, no, nope," claire chokes out, nearly fucking crying with laughter. "happy mother's day, dean."

"you gotta take it, man," sam agrees, clearing his throat and biting back a smile as he bobs his head dutifully towards the card.

dean fixes sam with a flat look and snatches the card. "you're all so fucking—sam, you signed it?!"

"happy mother's day," sam says, his mouth pinched, visibly trying not to laugh.

"do you like it?" jack asks earnestly. "i made the card, sam signed it first, and claire provided the money."

"i—" dean stares down at the card, then heaves a sigh and looks up at jack. it's clear to him that—out of everyone—jack is clearly taking this very seriously. he offers him a weak smile, then swallows. "yeah, s'great, kid. thank you. sam, you are dead to me. claire, i will be spending this on something you hate. cas, this is somehow your fault."

"yup, sounds like a mother to me," jody declares, holding up her beer with a smile.

"welcome to the club," donna agrees, holding hers up as well. "everyone else annoys the shit out of you, but you love 'em anyway."

dean sighs and clinks his beer to theirs.

[estrel]

Are You Happy? (Save Them Some Pie)

HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY, DEAN!! this is my gift to him for being my comfort person that i would hug on sight if given the chance 💗 love you dude, may you indulge in copious amounts of pie. ~ 1.5k words.

also dedicated to marlo ( @heller-jensen ), jace ( @thiscastielhasflown ) and dee ( @castee-yel ) thanks for bein real ones <3

[READ ON AO3]

The day had already started out weird enough.

Dean had woken up drenched in sweat, mind racing with the last lingering thoughts of a nightmare. A vamp nest that he and Sam had been hunting, Dean dying in the most ludicrous way possible, and driving Baby down a long road for an indiscriminate amount of time in a supposed heaven that his father (his father) also co-habited. Needless to say, the dream had come out of nowhere, but it was easy enough to forget once the smell of bacon made its way into his room.

Breakfast was hardy and quick, with enough coffee to fuel him for the rest of the day as he skimmed the internet for a possible case. He had the itch, but apparently, looking around at the three sleepy faces around him at the table, no one else did.

He packed up anyway, preparing for what would likely be an easy salt-n-burn; he’d be gone for only a few hours, tops. On his way out, Cas stops him before he can scale the stairs, arm gripping his shoulder tightly. There’s a memory, briefly—the same hand, the same shoulder. Blood.

Dean looks down at it. Back at Cas.

“…Yeah?”

After a moment, Cas lets go. He steps back half an inch as if he had forgotten himself. “Just…be careful.”

Dean nods, moving to leave again, taking the awkwardness as both a Cas thing and a morning thing and content to leave it at that. 

“And,” Cas says. Dean turns back.

“Come home.”

//

Dean picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean, hey! It’s, uh. It’s me. Krissy?”

Dean feels himself begin to smile, mindful of the road ahead of him. He balances his phone on his thigh while he drives.

“Hey, kid! Long time no call. How are you? Everything okay?”

The case had been as easy as Dean had suspected, but he had that familiar muscle ache and heaviness to his eyes that solo cases usually gave him.

Besides that, he was getting a little confused about all of the calls he’d been getting today. Before Krissy, it had been Garth, and before that, Claire and Jody and…

“Uh, yeah, dude, everything’s good. Um. How are you? How’s Sam and that angel of yours?”

Dean swallows to keep from choking, or potentially crashing the car.

“They’re good. Yeah…good.” Alive, he wants to say, back from the dead, probably in the DeanCave watching Scooby Doo without him. “Sorry, Krissy, ah,” he steps off the break to make a left, “I’m actually on my way home right now. Was there something I could help you with?”

There’s a pause, and Dean chances a glance at his phone to see if the call had dropped off. It hadn’t.

“Krissy?”

“I,” she huffs in what sounds like a laugh, “Nothing, Dean. You get home safe, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“And hey,” Krissy says, before he can say his goodbyes, “Uh, make sure you save some pie for everybody else.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow a bit, but he laughs. “I will. Take care of yourself.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Ba-bye.”

//

Dean’s still mulling over the pie comment when he nearly falls down the stairs, squinting into the darkness of the Bunker.

“What the hell?” he asks, voice hoarse around the high note. “Guys?”

When there’s no immediate answer, Dean’s instincts kick in. He pulls out his gun and gently drops his bag, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust so he can try for the stairs.

Before he can, though, the lights kick back on. His gaze locks onto the scene below, and Dean slowly lowers his gun.

“Happy birthday!” Jack says, the sound of a party horn whining shortly after. Beside him, Cas pulls the string of a party popper, and he jerks as bits of confetti fall around him and into his hair.

Skeptically, Dean starts descending down the stairs.

“You…this…” he manages.

“It’s your birthday, dumbass,” Sam says, swooping forward to slap a party hat on Dean’s head as soon as he’s made the landing. He smiles.

“Oh…kay.” Around them, the Bunker looks pretty normal. The only difference is the array of pies on one of the library tables, next to what looks like home made rice krispie treats, and a couple of birthday-themed plates and napkins. That, and the confetti from Cas’ party popper that litters the floor. “Are you sure?”

Cas frowns at Sam. “Sam was certain. I can’t imagine he’d get the day wrong, but he has had quite severe brain trauma over the years. Perhaps…” Cas reaches out to Sam’s head, probably intent on searching his brain for said trauma, or for the date of Dean’s actual birthday. Sam swats his hand away.

“Hey, no. My trauma is fine. Dean,” Sam redirects his attention to him, “It’s today. Did you really forget?”

Dean shrugs, trying to piece the day together from the beginning. Shitty dream, good breakfast, the three of them weirdly insisting on staying at the Bunker…the calls. Save some pie for everybody else.

He laughs. “So that’s what she meant.”

“That’s what who meant?” Jack asks. He’s wearing a party hat, too, with ridiculous stripes of blue and pink and purple patterned onto it. It matches the one currently strapped to Dean’s own. He shakes his head.

“You’re telling me all of you knew? This whole time? And…and…” He looks around again, pointing vaguely at the table and the confetti. “You put this all together for me?”

Sam shoves his arm playfully. “Course we did. Now quit pouting and come eat some pie.”

//

Sam is fast asleep, sprawled out on the couch hours later with one of his hands brushing the floor. Dean thinks he spots drool on the pillow underneath him. 

Cas has been quiet next to Dean, at least since Jack had disappeared into the kitchen an hour ago and hadn’t come back, thoughtfully tracing the lip of his beer bottle with his finger. 

“Something on your mind?” Dean asks, because he wants to know.

Cas continues unbothered. Scooby Doo reruns play in the background. Dean almost repeats the question, but Cas eventually lifts his gaze to stare at him.

“Are you happy?” 

Dean presses his mouth shut. Licks his lips. He takes just as long to answer.

“You know what,” he smiles. “I think I am.”

Cas smiles back at him, soft and genuine. The skin around his eyes crinkling tells more than the gentle upturn of his mouth. 

Dean swallows, nervously putting his beer down and turning it a few times until his fingers are wet with the condensation. 

“What, uh. What about you?” He swallows again. “You happy?”

What he really wants to ask, though, is if they were good. If, after recent events, they were still the same. If Cas was still fine with “just being.”

He’s quiet again. Dean thinks he deserves that, and tries to pay attention to the TV, but the voice in his head is too loud. Cas has to tap his knee to get his attention again.

“Hm?”

“I was saying,” he moves his hand back, “that I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift.”

Dean stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

Cas looks confused, like he’s about to repeat what he just said. Dean stops him short with a wave of his hand. 

“Dude, you just got back from the dead, alright? That’s—that’s gift enough to last me a lifetime. Don’t worry about a gift.”

Cas frowns, and Dean rolls his eyes. It’s another few moments of tense silence, until Dean breaks it, his heart pounding in his chest.

“But, uh,” he says, “I might have a gift for you.”

“Dean, we don’t share a birthday. It’s not customary to gift me something, especially when I haven’t given you—“

“Cas,” he groans, officially putting his beer aside and facing him. Cas’ features are lit up with the colors of the TV. Dean reaches a hand up to pluck confetti from his hair, a green piece that he’d been eyeing all night. Hesitating, he lets his hand fall to Cas’ face, smoothing over his cheek and jaw. The TV paints his cheekbone purple. Dean brushes his thumb over it. “Just...shut up and let me do this.” 

Cas tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in that way of his, and Dean thinks he looks perfect. When he dips forward and presses their lips together, it’s perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s warm, his face is burning, eyes almost watering when he pulls away.

Dean lets his forehead rest on Cas’, heartbeat still crazy. He closes his eyes. “We can have it, Cas. This. We can have this.”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, lifts it a little to bring them face to face again, so that he’s looking into Dean’s eyes.

“I’d like that, Dean,” he says, and his eyes are wet, too. Happy, Dean thinks.

“Your gift to me?” Dean manages, smile wobbly. He’s teasing, trying to bring down the weight of this without getting rid of all of it. He likes this type of adrenaline rush, different from any hunt he’s been on. Better.

Cas smiles. “I think technically it was you that gifted me, but, yes. My gift to you, if you’ll take it.”

“Gladly,” Dean says.

Cas hums back, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “Happy birthday, Dean.” He leaves a kiss on his forehead.

Happy. 

Dean thinks, for the first time, as he pulls more confetti from Cas’ hair, that it actually is. 

—

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[fangirlingtodeath513]

alone | the canon reciprocation we all deserved

“I love you.”

The statement reverberates around the small room, edges sharp and waiting, like they’re just itching to tear into Dean’s skin. His mind is reeling, bouncing between so many different lines of thought that he feels like he might just shut down entirely. But then one specific thought overwhelms all the others: nothing’s happening. Billie is still banging on the door behind Castiel, but the room is utterly silent. Dean’s not saying anything, though he thinks he feels his jaw moving. That’s not the problem, and he and Castiel seem to realize it at the exact same moment: the empty is nowhere to be seen.

Castiel’s brows furrow and he turns, body tense with nerves, to look at the door Billie is still trying to break through.

Logically, Dean knows why it didn’t work. No matter what Castiel wants to say, his happiness isn’t in just saying it, because Dean knows exactly what he’s feeling right now. He knows the exact cocktail of emotions because it’s the same one that’s been swirling within him for god only knows how long. Castiel’s nervous and happy, yes, but there’s also a sad tinge to it. It’s like he knows Dean will never feel the same, which is utterly ridiculous, though knowing that himself and saying it out loud are two different things.

“I-I… I thought that would work. I don’t understand…” Castiel says quietly, eyes darting around the room. He avoids looking anywhere near Dean, which Dean can understand.

He knows. Realistically, he thinks Castiel knows as well, but he can’t be sure. Castiel’s feelings have always been foreign to him, now more than ever, but if Castiel’s hoping the empty is coming for him, it appears he’s going to be disappointed.

“Cas… don’t do this,” he finally manages to choke out. His voice is rough and quiet and nowhere near the normal bravado he has, but he can’t help it. He knows what the solution is, and every cell in his body is telling him to shut the fuck up and spend his last few minutes of life with Castiel.

Castiel just gives him a sad smile. “Let me do this for you. I want you to live, Dean. If that’s the consequence of this deal, then I’ll count that as a win and I’ll rest easy.”

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat—when did that get there?—and takes an aborted half-step toward Castiel. “I-I just want to make sure, before… Is this what you want? We can find another way, we always do.”

Castiel’s sad smile returns and it nearly breaks Dean’s heart. “We don’t have time, Dean. It doesn’t appear to have worked, anyway. I’ll… figure something else out.”

Dean swallows again, reaching out with jerky, nervous movements until he’s got a hand on Castiel’s cheek. “It’s not working because you’re not happy.”

Castiel looks like he wants to argue but Dean is quickly losing his nerve, so he takes another step closer and brings his left hand up to mirror his right, both thumbs stroking Castiel’s cheeks gently. They’re still wet from his tears.

“Me too, Cas, of course I love you. God, how could I not? You’re…” his words fail him, so he just offers Castiel a watery smile. “You’ve always had me, Castiel. Ever since you pulled me out of Hell.”

He can hear something behind him and he watches Castiel’s eyes dart to something just over Dean’s left shoulder, but he’s not letting the empty ruin this. Not this. This is too important. Castiel is too important.

“I’ve always loved you, Cas. I always will.” The admission feels foreign on his tongue. He’s not used to expressing his feelings like this, but in the face of Castiel’s death, it seems so inconsequential. Castiel deserves this, and he’s earned a response like this from Dean. Dean owes him this, he knows that.

It takes him the space of a single breath to lean in and close the gap between them. He hesitates a couple of inches from Castiel’s face, close enough to hear the shocked inhale from Castiel. There are fresh tears on Dean’s hands, though he can’t tell if they’re from Castiel or from himself. He doesn’t really care at this point.

Castiel closes the last of the gap, his lips warm and chapped against Dean’s. He’s nervous at first, or maybe too emotional, but eventually they both let go of their reservations. Castiel’s hand settles on Dean’s left shoulder, his other arm winding around Dean’s waist as they kiss. It’s wonderful and magical and heartbreaking all at the same time and Dean’s not sure he’ll ever be able to recover but he doesn’t care. He deserves this as much as Castiel does. He deserves to be happy, even if it’s only for a moment. Hell, he probably won’t make it out of this fight either, this might be the last chance he gets to be truly happy.

Castiel’s grip on his shoulder tightens and then he’s leaning away, eyes shining with unshed tears. He’s smiling, though, a smile Dean’s never seen him wear.

It’s content.

Happy.

It’s exactly what the empty needs.

Everything happens all at once. The door behind Castiel flies off its hinges, a pissed off Billie standing in the doorway. Castiel shoves Dean to the side, the same happy smile on his face.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

The empty doesn’t hesitate. It doesn’t let them breathe. Dean’s not the one being smothered, but he feels like it’s his own throat that closes as he watches Castiel be engulfed. He can’t decide if he wants to cry, scream, or grab Castiel’s hand and go with him. Maybe it’s a combination of all three. Maybe if he moves now—

But then the empty is closing around Billie, too, her scythe abandoned on the floor as she’s surrounded and pulled in.

The empty shrinks back into the wall it had so effortlessly sprung from and Dean’s left to his customary existence.

Alone.

[deancodedcastielenby]

It Started out with an XX

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

I am putting Tags first so I don’t forget like the horrible trash panda I am:  @casmick-consequences , @proudcasgirl , & @paintdriesfaster You have asked to be tagged, or for Casmick you are the reason this is here.  A continuation of the mini series, where Cas takes Mick up on that offer to call him. This is date night.  This is 100% unbeta’d and I am litterally on my work computer writing in between phone calls so. I apologize for any spelling errors or punctuation since I am a trash panda.  XX love you all, enjoy 

Back at the bunker Castiel was going through the bags that had all been unceremoniously dumped in the room that he had taken over. All of his clothing purchases were neatly put away, save for the outfit that Matthew had helped him assemble, but there were other bags here that he did not recognize. Unsure of why he had a bag from the store “Bed, Bath, and Body Works” he went and found Sam who had helped drop off the bags. Both of the brothers were in the library again, Dean angrily leaned against the table as Sam rolled his eyes.  “Sam, I believe some of your bags made their way into my room.” 

Dean seemed to freeze as Castiel walked in, but Sam turned with a smile, “Nope, I picked up a few things while you were trying on clothes. That one,” he motioned to the blue and white checkered bag in his hand, “has some different soaps and things that I figured you might want. For your Date, you should always put a good foot forward to smell nice.”  “Ah, I see.” Castiel took a moment to fiddle with the bottle of body wash and smell it, and it was rather pleasant. “Thank you for your foresight Sam. I should get ready now.” With a nod to both brothers, he found his way back to his room and went about opening all of the other bags. Sam had the foresight to pick up things that Castiel may have missed such as new under ware and socks, a few different styles of belt, a new jacket and some more comfortable casual clothing. There was also a new wallet, which it seemed to have been opened and a few things added to it so Castiel could make purchases and things of the like.  It all felt remarkably odd and a touch more human than he thought it would, but it was a calming sort of process to put all the things away. The last bag was the one with the body wash in it, so he dumped the contents on the bed to read the labels and make sure he knew what he was doing. There were a few items in there: a hair & body wash, a lotion, and a small bottle of cologne. The lotion and body wash appeared to have the same name: “Teakwood”, while the cologne was called “Bourbon”. After a quick read through of the instructions, he headed to the showers to get ready.  After a nice hot shower, Castiel was of a mind that he rather enjoyed the smell of his new soap. It was a deep woodsy scent what clung to the skin, but not overbearing as some men's fragrances could be.  Not that he was a all that knowledgeable, but he had been in a few uncomfortable interactions with humans who drowned themselves in scents that were entirely unappealing. Slipping into the new outfit felt almost like putting on his angelic armor in a way, and it was strangely fitting. Castiel had no idea what he was getting into, but he was looking forward to the experience. Outfit and accessories donned, he glanced over to where the rest of his new things are and wondered if he should wear a jacket. Not that the elements would have any bearing on if he was comfortable or not, but he decided against it. Remembering Dean’s bit of advice he left the top few buttons of the shirt undone and grabbed up his new wallet and phone. With those in his pockets and a spritz or two of the cologne, according to bottle instructions, he was ready to go.  The bunker was remarkably quiet as he set out to tell the brothers that he was leaving. He was fairly sure that they would be in the library, per normal but they were not. It wasn’t until he headed into the room with the large map table that he found Dean sipping on a cup of what the angel hoped was coffee and playing on his phone. “Hello, Dean.” It was the customary way that the angel had greeted him since knowing him, but for some reason Dean choked on what he was drinking and began to cough. With a strange amount of concern Cas placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and expelled the liquid in the hunters lungs with his grace. “You should be more careful Dean.”  “Ah- yeah.” Dean replied after he caught his breath, and then he groaned before pulling back and away from Castiel. The distance was rather minute but to Cas that felt more like a mile. Instead of showing that he was wounded, because he should be used to this by now, Castiel just took a step back. “You uh- ready for your... thing then?”  “My date with Mick? Yes, I was about to leave.” There was a brief nod before Castiel looked back down the hall of the bunker. “I was going to let you and Sam know, before I left. I am not sure when I will be back.” Castiel should have asked Sam what adequate time for a first date was, but he could always ask Claire over text. She responded rather quickly to those, usually.  “Right...” Dean seemed oddly tense, and Cas wondered if he missed something when healing the hunter. “Do you need a ride there or is Davies picking you up?”  “I told him that I would meet him there.” Should he have asked Mick to pick him up? Mick did not offer... perhaps he should have asked more questions.  Dean snorted but straightened up and grabbed his jacket off the table. “Come on then, I’ll drive you there. Make sure he doesn’t stand you up or anything... and you call me for a ride home. No angel zapping, save your mojo or whatever.” There was something rather flippant about Dean’s tone, but it Castiel couldn’t place it. It was best not to argue with the hunter, so instead he followed Dean out to the garage where the Impala sat, and climbed into the passenger seat. The drive was awkward and rather stiff, though the music was on the entire time to kill the silence. The songs were not ones that Dean played often, but Cas recognized a tune or two from around the bunker when Dean would sometimes play music.  The restaurant did look cozy from the outside when Dean pulled up across the street. “Remember, call me if you need anything.” Dean said again as he put the car in park.  “I remember Dean. Thank you.” Castiel got out of the car and closed the door, speaking in through the open passenger window. It was oddly reminiscent of the time Dean had dropped him off at Nora’s house, but this felt... vastly different. Something about the exchange did, but Cas couldn’t quite grasp it with the hunter so closed off. A final wave to Dean and he was walking across the street and into the restaurant, he was a little early, but it appeared Mick was too. The man was just inside the door speaking to the hostess.   “Ah, the man of the hour.” Mick smiled as he turned around and spotted Castiel, “and you look sharp. I never thought I would get you out of your fancy coat.”  That was an odd thing to say. It was just a coat? “All you have to do is ask.” Castiel squinted at the man as he laughed and they were escorted to the table by the hostess.  “Of course, simple.” This was a flirtation, Castiel was sure of it this time, but he still did not understand the nuances of human speech. Perhaps he needed to watch more television. “See anything on the menu that tickles your fancy?”  “I do not eat, food tastes like particles, but I am willing to sample if you are willing to share?” It seemed like a decent compromise, and judging by the smile on the other man’s face it was the right thing to say.  “Sample away love.”  It seemed the date was going well.   

[goodluckdetective]

Fic Snippet: Best Man

A preview clip from a fic I may never finish (because it’s already 2k and I can’t write anything short). AKA the one where Castiel def visits Sam on Earth as the world’s best angelic carrier pigeon, a wedding is held and Eileen is the smartest of them all.

Post Carry On. Finale Fix it. 

BEST MAN

He calls Castiel a few days after he proposes to Eileen.

Cas appears at once, a grin spread across his face as he wraps both Eileen and Sam into a tight hug. Sam laughs, still giddy she said yes and when he pulls back from the hug, he’s still chuckling. Cas looks at Eileen’s hand for a ring and when he doesn’t see one, he frowns.

“I thought a ring was customary for this human tradition.”

Eileen smiles and pulls on the chain around her neck, holding her engagement ring. It is a simple band, engraved with protection sigils. Beautiful and practical, just like her.

“Chain makes it easier not to lose it,” she says. “But he could have given me a knife and I still would have said yes.”

Sam is struck by how much he loves this woman all over again. 

They celebrate with a small dinner, even though Cas doesn’t eat. Cas shares some word from Dean and promises to tell him of Sam’s engagement. Sam’s heart aches that he cannot tell Dean himself, and while that ache is not as painful as it once was, it still hurts. Eileen grabs his hand and squeezes, a comfort. She also has ghosts that will haunt their wedding. 

“He will be disappointed he cannot be there,” Cas says as Eileen finishes the last of her beer. “He would have liked to be the best man.”

That hurts too, but it also reminds Sam of the other reason he called Cas down here. He clears his throat and squeezes Eileen’s hand. She gives him a knowing smile. They discussed this already and she wholeheartedly approved. Not that Sam expected her to argue. They both like Cas. 

“About that-“

Cas looks to him, brow raised, head cocked slightly to the side. He frowns, pained. It’s a look he often gets when he feels he has not done enough. Like he hasn’t already given the world everything.

“Sam, I’m afraid I cannot bring your brother back to-“

“No, not that-“ Sam interrupts. “I know you can’t. It would be nice, don’t get me wrong, but I know. But just because Dean can’t come doesn’t mean I can’t still have a brother there.”

Cas still looks confused. “Adam is also-“

“No, not Adam-“ Sam shakes his head. He reaches forward with his hand not holding Eileen’s to grab Cas’ shoulder and squeeze it. “Cas, I meant you. Will you be my best man?”

Cas doesn’t answer. He looks shocked. Eileen brings her hand up to her mouth to hide an amused smile. There is something eternally amusing about catching an ancient heavenly warrior off-guard.

“You’re like a brother to me,” Sam continues, because “no chick flick moments” was Dean’s rule and Sam has no obligations to enforce it. “You should be there. It’s not like you don’t have the formal wear for it. And if Dean can’t be my best man, I can’t think of anyone else better for the job.”

Sam doesn’t say it, but he knows Dean would approve. When he went to take on Amara, Cas was the one Dean entrusted with watching over Sam. He won’t be offended Sam asked Cas to take his place. In fact, he’ll probably be pleased. It might not be official, but Cas is practically his brother-in-law at this point. Dean would be mad if Castiel didn’t attend. 

Cas looks to the hand on his shoulder. He reaches up and places his hand over Sam’s. His eyes look watery. 

“I would be honored, Sam.”

“I knew he would say yes,” Eileen says, smug. 

Half a year later, they have the wedding. It is practically a hunters conference with how many folks come. They have it in a church, not for religious reasons (obviously) but for the warding it will apply to any monsters that try to crash the nice day. Some try anyway, a pack of vampires, and Sam almost laughs when half of the guests pull out weapons they have concealed on their person in response.

The blood on some of their second-hand excuse for formal attire is a shame, sure, but Sam gets to kiss the bride regardless, and that’s what matters.

The ghosts of those they’ve lost make the event bittersweet but they don’t ruin it. Sam doesn’t think he could ever marry someone who didn’t understand what it was like to live in gaps of those losses, someone who didn’t understand how empty space could feel suffocating. Eileen invites a pair of hunters who were friends with her adoptive mother to serve as father and mother of the bride, and they are both delighted and shocked to see her settling down.

“She’s always insisted on working alone,” they tell Sam at the reception. “You must be special to make her change her mind.”

Sam thinks she’s pretty special too. 

Charlie and the girls make-up half of Eileen’s wedding party, Charlie taking Maid of Honor. Her and Eileen have become close since everything happened, their grit complementary. On Sam’s side, Jody steps in as Mother of the Groom with delight, and Donna takes other Mother of the Groom because “I said so.” Garth organizes the bachelor party instead of Castiel, which is for the best since Castiel finds party planning “intimidating.” His daughter is delighted to be the flower girl.

And then there is Castiel, best man. He gets a formal tux for the occasion and everything, even though half the guests idea of “dressing up” is having clothing without new stains. He’s by far the best dressed there. Sam hugs him so tight before the ceremony that he’d be worried about hurting him if not for the angel thing.

“I am so glad you came,” he says, getting weepy way too early. Castiel just hugs him back tighter.

The reception is an open bar and the first dance is awkward, but fine. Charlie gives a speech and then it is Castiel’s turn. He looks nervous and pulls out a sheet of paper.

“Hello everyone. Thank you for coming,” he says, like he’s giving orders to a troop about to go into battle. “I was informed that it is custom for the best man at these events to give a speech but I am afraid I am not well suited for such a task.” He glances at Sam and smiles. “So I asked a dear friend if he could help me write one instead. Since he should be the one standing here instead of me.”

Sam’s breath catches. He feels stupid he didn’t consider this possibility sooner. Castiel winks at him, a gesture he had to learn from Dean, and clears his throat as he begins to read.

“Hey Sammy. Sorry I couldn’t be here in person, so I sent our favorite angelic carrier pigeon to deliver this instead. Please make sure to tip him: cross planar delivery is a lot of work.”

Sam is already crying. Eileen hands him a ziplock bag of tissues out of nowhere. He raises an eyebrow and signs.

“You knew about this.”

She signs back after she deposits the tissues into his lap.

“Someone had to smuggle extra tissues in her wedding gown. I’m the inside woman.”

The speech is pure Dean, ribbing at Sam’s more silly failures (losing his shoe, getting wasted off a light beer as a teen), crowing over his his biggest achievements (sealing away Lucifer, saving Dean from countless monsters) both woven with a sentiment underneath to tie it all together. Sam bawls but no one seems to mind. A lot of the guests are bawling too.

“You treat Eileen right,” Cas says, wrapping up the speech. “Because she’s awesome and you know it. Live long happy lives and go buy some furniture not from IKEA. You both deserve it. Don’t rush up here anytime soon, but when you do, I’ll be here waiting at the end to buy you both a beer,” Castiel smirks in a way that is so Dean, Sam is convinced he’s been practicing the expression. “Love you, bitch.”

Sam’s too choked up to respond with jerk but he doubts anyone blames him. 

Castiel gets another hug after the speech, Sam getting tears and snot all over his tux. Castiel doesn’t comment, because he rocks, and simply hugs back.

“Thank you so much,” Sam says. 

“You’re welcome, Sam.”

[destielstuffandthings]

Champagne Kisses

For @idabbleincrazy <3

Castiel had missed out on a lot of crucial human events during is life. Sure, he was thousands of years old, but being an angel didn’t mean he participated in things like birthdays or holidays. And that was just unacceptable to Dean. Now that Cas was human he was making damn sure Cas was involved with everything human.

Like now- Dean is teaching Castiel about New Years. 

The snow is falling from the night sky and landing softly on the ground outside the bunker while they decorate inside. Dean is reaching up into a corner of the bunker, batting cobwebs out of the way so he can hang a sign that says “Happy New Year!” in gold, glittery writing.

“Dean, I don’t understand,” Castiel grumbles as he holds a rung of the ladder as Dean instructed. “You’re just going to have to take these decorations down in the morning. Why are we putting them up in the first place?”

Biting his tongue and stretching up on his tiptoes, Dean smacked the duct taped corner of the banner against the wall and sighed. “Because, Cas, it’s what humans do.” He looked down and started climbing down the ladder until he was face to face with the ex angel. “And now that you’re human, Sammy ‘n I are going to start celebrating stuff like this.” He looked up at his handwork and smiled.

Castiel tilted his head and looked at the sign. “It’s crooked.”

“Shut up,” Dean said as he smacked the back of his hand against Cas’ chest. He walked over to the bar, grabbing three bottles of champagne as he glanced up at the clock. “Sammy! Five minutes!”

Castiel took the offered bottle and began tearing at the silver wrapping on the neck.

“Don’t open that just yet,” Dean warned with a stern finger. “That cork gets popped after the countdown.”

Sam came jogging into the room with his phone in his hand. “Check it out---that banner is crooked---I found a YouTube channel that’s doing a live countdown!” He propped the phone up on the table and swiped a bottle of champagne out of Deans’ hand. “Excited, Cas?” Sam asked, elbowing him in the arm.

Castiel smiled and nodded. “Yes. I’ve watched countless celebrations throughout the years and I’m happy to finally be part of it.”

“Three minutes!” a woman on the phone announced.

“Got any resolutions?” Dean asked as he picked at the label of his bottle.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and fluffed it up. “Yeah actually. To never cut my hair again.” He grinned wide at his brother

“I’ll shave it while you sleep,” Dean warned. “And that’s not even a resolution. They’re supposed to be things you’ve been wanting to do but never get around to.”

Castiel pulled his eyebrows together. “Why does a new year mean you have to start doing something new? Why can’t you just---start doing it any day you want?”

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “It’s just---it’s tradition, Cas. You got anything you wanna start doin’?”

Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment before a smile spread across his face. “Yes, actually.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “And? What is it?”

Castiel bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “I’d rather not say it out loud,” he said softly.

“One minute!” the phone reminded.

“I got a few,” Dean offered. “Take better care of Baby, finally clean out the damn fridge, and---” The thought swam in his head like a recurring dream.

“Twenty! Nineteen!”

“And what?” Castiel asked, turning to Dean.

“Sixteen! Fifteen!”

“Yeah, Dean. And?” Sam smirked.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“I uh----” Dean swallowed hard and stared at the phone.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“Dean?” Castiel asked

“Four! Three! Two! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Sam smiled wide and popped the cork on his bottle. “Happy New Year, guys!” The laughed as the foam poured over his hands onto the floor.

“Happy New Year, Sam,” Castiel smiled, clinking his bottle against Sams. He turned to Dean who was already chugging his drink and watched as it dribbled down his chin.

Dean set his bottle down on the table with a clunk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“Is it customary to drink so much so fast?” Castiel asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not usually,” Sam chuckled. He held up his bottle and nodded his head. “Well I’m gonna hit the hay guys. G’night. Hope your first New Year as a human will be great, Cas.” He hugged the ex angel and patted his back before shooting his brother a knowing glace and walked out of the room shaking his head.

Castiel pressed the bottle to his lips and took a timid sip. He made a face and sat it down on the table. “This tastes---well I don’t know what it tastes like but I don’t like it.”

Dean huffed a laugh and nodded. “Yeah I’m not a fan of it either, but it’s what people drink to celebrate.” He looked up at Castiel through his lashes and licked his still wet lips. “I didn’t want to say my actual resolution in front of Sam, but I think I’m ready to tell you.”

Castiel stepped closer to Dean and tilted his head. “Are you actually going to shave his head?”

Dean laughed out loud and shook his head. “Nah, he’d kill me. I uh--- the Baby thing was true. I do need to take better care of her. And the fridge? I should make Sam do that. I mean, it’s basically his crappy lettuce and healthy stuff that’s stinkin’ the place up. Do you have any idea how long that wrinkly tomato has been in---”

“Dean,” Castiel closed the distance before laying his hand on Dean’s arm. “You’re rambling.”

Dean took a deep breath as he stood up straight. “Sorry. Yeah, sorry. Uh, okay. I’m just gonna come out and say it.” He looked into his friends eyes and took Cas’ hand off his arm and held it gently. “Cas,--” Dean cleared his throat loudly and pulled his eyebrows together. “Every New Year that I’ve known you I’ve wanted to do this, an’ I chickened out every time. But you’re human now. Things are different. I feel different, and I can’t keep this in anymore.” He licked his lips and smiled briefly at Castiel as he held his hand tighter. “My resolution is to tell you how much you mean to me. You’re the most important person in my life. And I know we’ve had our share of fights and all the bullshit that happened in the past almost drove you away from me, but I don’t want that to happen again. Cas, I love you, and I’m going to prove how much I love you for the rest of our lives.”

Castiel lowered his eyes and smiled as he pulled their entwined hands to his chest. “Dean,” he said quietly. He waited until his friends worried eyes met his own. “That was my resolution, too.”

“Oh thank God,” Dean breathed out before pulling Castiel close. “There’s another tradition on New Years, too.” Dean raised an eyebrow and nodded his head towards the phone still sitting on the table. It was panning through Times Square showing couples kissing in the streets surrounded by confetti and streamers.

Castiel smiled as he leaned in, cupping Dean by the back of the neck and pressed his lips against the other mans.

Dean sighed into the kiss as he felt Cas’ tongue run across his bottom lip. He pulled away gently and rested his head against Cas’ and smiled.

“I take it back,” Castiel whispered as he ran a thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. “I love the taste of champagne.”

[ilikebeesandflowers]

Finale? What finale?

That was just the Empty torturing a wayward gay angel... Here’s what really happened after Cas confessed his LOVE to Dean Winchester and was taken to Super Mega Hell...

Unedited, unproofread, unbeta’d- just pure, unadulterated, whiskey-and-rage-fueled fix-it fic. Ps, El Sol cerveza is the official beverage of fake-dream-worlds, and therefore the entire narrative of the finale is sus.

Love Lift Us Up (Where We Belong)

Cas slumbered, but fitfully. Oblivion plagued him with nightmares.

Some dreams replayed memories, even of memories that were not strictly his: one by one, everyone he loved torn apart at an atomic level, rent, poofed to dust. His sleeping self watched on a loop as Bobby, Charlie, Donna, nameless others fell, obliterated.

He saw Michael slay Lucifer, the foregone conclusion so many times delayed.

He saw Michael betray the Winchesters. But how? Why? Michael had changed, hadn’t he? Adam had changed him. Even asleep, Cas knew this to be true.

He watched Jack, his loving and beloved son, fulfilling the promise Kelly had known he held. Jack bringing peace to the world, restoring balance, returning all life on earth to its rightful places. Cas was certain that this dream was true. He felt Jack’s presence, unmistakable lightness and goodness and purity.

The Empty roiled violently, rippling the fabric of its realm.

The dreams changed again to nightmares.

Dean, alone. Sam, alone. Eileen, alone.

The hunters who had died were again whole and alive, walking the earth as if Chuck’s poisonous animosity had never snuffed them. And yet they were all isolated from one another. Oh, the younger children clung to their parents, but the parents drifted from one another.

Charlie, alone. Donna, alone. Claire, alone.

The loneliness of the hunters infected the denizens of the Empty, and the Empty smiled in its sleep.

Cas dreamed that he watched Dean dying, an ignominious death in a ramshackle barn. He felt a wave of revulsion, of jealousy, like he did in another barn, once upon a time, witnessing a kiss between Anna and Dean. What had he felt then, way back when, when feelings were still so new and frightening? Had he been in love then?

The scene repeated, again and again, a horrible parody of what should have been. A confession of love, two foreheads touching, hands held over Dean’s heart. The scene replayed a hundred, a thousand times, Cas viewing from the vantage of the beloved, but Cas never could see who received Dean’s love. He only knew it wasn’t him. He could only watch through someone else’s eyes, hearing and seeing and feeling with intense loathing what should have been his.

Then Dean was dead.

 The scene faded again. Cas saw Sam, living on, without Dean, without Jack, without Eileen, without hunters or hunting. In the space of a human heartbeat, he was married, raising a human child, a son. In another heartbeat, he was old, then dying, then greeting his brother in heaven.

He felt again a tug as if Jack were near. A faint glow.

Cas woke. Two amber eyes shone above him.

“Castiel,” said Jack, “something is wrong. I need your help.”

Cas scrambled to his feet. “The dreams? They were real?”

Jack couldn’t know what Cas had seen, and yet he shook his head and assured him that, no, those were the Empty playing tricks. “But reality is in danger. Heaven and Hell are out of balance. Heaven’s brightest are all here, when they should be up there. We’ll have to wake them.”

The Empty howled somewhere far off, something that sounded like, “Let me sleep!”

Jack stepped briskly in the inky blackness, tapping here and there, naming sleeping entities. “Hannah, you are needed. Duma, awaken. Gabriel. Michael. Raphael, your services are humbly requested.”

Soon, the din of awakened angels, archangels, seraphs, and reapers had summoned a furious cosmic entity of entropy and oblivion. “KEEP. IT. DOWN,” it hissed.

“And what will you do if we don’t?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow to the Empty, who stood before them in the guise of Meg Masters, circa 2009.

The Empty stamped its foot. “I took you in. You all died the death of immortals, a death that cannot be rewarded nor punished, but I took you in! And all I ask for is quiet!”

“But why?” Cas continued. “You despise us. Why do you trap us here?”

The Empty hesitated. “They dream,” it replied. “They dream, and so I dream.”

“We suffer nightmares of your making.”

“No-oo. The dreams are yours.”

“You enjoy the nightmares?”

“No.” The Empty faltered. “They wake me up. You stir, I stir; I must sleep!”

Jack spoke softly to the Empty. “Then expel them.”

“Expel them? What, just set them all free to commit chaos?”

“Just the dreamers.”

The Empty seemed to calculate the price of granting the nephilim’s wish. “That would be almost all of the angels and a number of powerful demons. They might return, clomping into my haven and disturbing my sleep.”

“No,” Castiel put in, his eyes lit with a wry smile. “If you expel them, they will be forever banned from your realm. They become subject to Purgatory, not Oblivion.”

Jack smiled at his father. “Exactly!” He turned again to the Empty. “So you’ll do it?” he asked brightly.

The Empty scowled. It nodded once, as if making a decision.

The world went white, then faded to reveal a sunny meadow. Roly-poly bumblebees flitted between fat heads of purple clover. A nest of chickadees chirped. Cicadas droned. A red kite soared above them, the string held by someone a long way off. Cas’ face softened, as if recalling a long-lost memory.

It hardened again as he sensed something amiss. “Jack,” he frowned, “the walls between the human heavens are failing.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, which is why we need more angelic energy. But watch.” He drew a small window in the air with his index finger. He pushed the cut-out, revealing an adjoining heaven belonging to a woman. Cas recognized her as the mother of the man with the kite. Her heaven contained a meadow: the same meadow that surrounded them, rather than the manicured lawn Cas knew from the man’s original heaven.

“They can co-exist,” he breathed.

“Yes. We can break these barriers and open Heaven. It doesn’t need to be a prison. We can fix it.” Jack grinned again, that same old smile he’d worn in life, when he learned the taste of nougat or the softness of a bunny rabbit.

The sight warmed Cas. The summer sky glowed just a bit brighter. “Tell me what to do, my son.”

***

For six days, as Heaven measures time, the angels, the archangels, and the nephilim worked. First, negotiating a truce with Hell and its imperious but righteous Queen, and then building a Heaven for all. On the seventh day, they rested from their labors. They gathered to watch the humans on earth for a little while. Almost no time had passed: the humans had had just enough time to recollect that they had watched their loved ones vanish; those unfamiliar with the supernatural had quickly forgotten the phenomenon, as well. The hunters in the warded hideout had had just enough time to embrace their newly un-vanished friends.

Sam was texting Eileen, only to remember that he still had her phone, abandoned on the sidewalk mid-text. He laughed at himself. “We have to drive to Eileen’s house.”

Dean lay hunched over the table, carving a word into the polished wood alongside the Winchester family initials. Thus far, it read, “CAST,” and he was just starting on the I. “Pack us up- I wanna finish this, but I can be ready in twenty.” They watched as he finished his tribute to Castiel. He put two fingers to his lips, then pressed the finger pads against the grooves.

Cas itched to know how Dean meant the gesture.

Dean hastily scratched the name “JACK” into the table, too. “You done good, kid,” he murmured, patting the letters as he might once have patted Jack on the shoulder.

The angels drifted back to their tasks. Cas stayed, watching his friends. His family. He followed their movements towards Eileen. He witnessed the tearful reunion.

Sam started sniffling long before Dean pulled up behind Eileen’s little red car. He stepped over the sidewalk, where he had first absorbed her death, and a sob escaped him. In a few strides of his long legs, he was at the door. His hand shook as he reached for the doorbell. The second phone in his pocket vibrated: her doorbell notification. How would she know that he was there? He clapped the knocker, stamped his feet.

The door opened. Eileen. A vision, a sight for even Cas’ sore eyes. Sam was overwhelmed. He croaked her name, and she was in his arms. Where she belonged.

Back at the curb, Dean turned his face from the lovers. He fiddled with his phone, but who could he call?

Cas heard Dean think his name. He felt a pang of longing, but it wasn’t his own. Or rather, it matched his own. Echoed his, merged with his, swelling the aching feeling until he felt full to bursting with yearning for something he thought he could never have. Had thought he couldn’t have. Now, he wondered.

He called to his son.

Jack appeared beside him. He followed Cas’ gaze. “It’s time for you to return to him,” he mused.

“Yes, but,” Cas tripped over the words he wanted to say and couldn’t bear to say.

Fortunately, Jack understood. Without another word, he took Cas’ face in his hands. For a moment, their eyes glowed brightly, then Castiel’s dimmed to their customary shade of blue. When Jack’s golden aura had faded as well, he pulled away from Cas. He glanced down at the slim vial now slung around his neck by a black cord. The substance within sparkled, swirled, its hue a dazzling, electric blue-white. It looked like lightning in a bottle.

Cas swept his son into a crushing embrace. “Thank you,” he wept.

“You can always come home,” Jack told him.

Cas pulled back. “No. Where I’m going is home.” He smiled through the tears rushing down his cheek. “Goodbye, Jack. I love you.”

He rather felt than heard Jack’s reply, as he crossed from the celestial plane to the mortal realm. He stood now on that same sidewalk. Far to his right, Sam lifted Eileen, carrying her bridal-style into her home, letting the door slam behind them. To his left, a long black car. He gripped the passenger door handle, pulled it open. The hinges squeaked. He folded himself inside before turning to the driver.

Dean looked every bit as awed as Cas felt. This was right.

Before he could say anything, even so much as a simple “Hello, Dean,” he found himself in Dean’s arms. Where he belonged.

[atc74]

A Whole New World

Square(s) Filled: Body Swap for @spngenrebingo, Free Space for @heavenandhellbingo 

Warnings: Witch hunt, swearing, morning wood, fem receiving oral sex while sleeping, fingering, confused Sam, blissed out Cas, curious reader, amused Dean, mentions of blowjobs, implied grace kink, hint of Sastiel if you really squint, awkwardness, crack...

Summary: Weird things happen after a witch hunt when Y/N and Cas get hit with a spell. 

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2060

Written for: @spngenrebingo @heavenandhellbingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches admitted this might be her favorite thing I have written and I am humbled. Thank you to @alleiradayne and I’m sorry about your laughing/coughing fit...(not really).

A/N: I didn’t want to do a body swap with one of the brothers, that has been done a few times already. I tried something different and it kind of went off the rails, but I am pleased and humored by the outcome. 

Want the next level fan experience? Buy Sam, Dean or Cas here from @scentsfromthebunker!

“Freaking witches man!” Dean growled as they realized what they were up against. 

Hunting with the Winchesters had seriously upped Y/N’s game as a hunter. It wasn’t long into her tenure with them that she and Sam became an item. Falling into step with the brothers and their fallen angel was easy. Falling in love with had been less easy, but they made it work. And, it was worth it. 

“Okay, Sam and I will go in the back? Y/N, you and Cas will go through the front. We know the bitch is in that house somewhere, so we split up and find her. Put one of these between her eyes,” Dean emphasized, holding one of the bullets filled with witch killing brew in them. 

“Watch each other’s six,” Sam told her and Cas. 

“Gank the witch bitch and get the hell out without getting blasted by a damn spell this time,” Dean stressed, looking at Sam. 

“Hey, I’m not the one that got hit with a love spell” Sam retorted. 

“Whatever. Let’s do this!” Dean slammed the trunk shut and they spread out. 

~*~

“Y/N! Cas!” Sam’s voice boomed through the room as he found her and Cas out cold on the floor of a back bedroom, the witch dead on the other side of the room. All the windows had been blown out in the room and a cold wind whipped around them. 

“What happened?” Dean demanded, hot on his brother’s heels. 

“I don’t know. They’re both unconscious,” Sam knelt next to Y/N, pulling her into his arms, her hand still gripping her weapon. “She’s alive. Let’s get rid of the body and get them back to the room.” 

“I’ll do it. You take them back,” Dean volunteered, striding across the room to the witch’s body, kicking her with his steel toed boot. “I’ll grab Cas, you get Y/N.” 

With both their friends loaded up in Baby, Sam took off to the motel while Dean returned to the house. He pulled up in front of their room and unlocked the door, bringing a still unconscious Y/N in first, laying her on the bed. By the time he got back outside, Cas was sitting upright in the backseat. 

“Cas!” Sam called out. “What the hell happened? Y/N killed the witch but you were both out. Did she hit you with a spell? Are you okay?” The questions were rapid fire from Sam’s mouth. 

“Sam, I’m fine. How is Y/N?” Cas inquired, getting out of the car. 

“She’s alive, but hasn’t woken up yet,” Sam filled him in. 

Cas crossed the room to her, pressing two fingers gently to her forehead. “Physically, she is fine. There seems to be no lingering effects of the spell. Not that I can sense, anyway.” 

“I’m going to get her changed into something more comfortable. Can you...just turn around, okay?” Sam told him and the angel turned his back to the pair. Sam quickly grabbed one of his shirts before gingerly removing her clothing. There was some minor blood splatter across her jacket and her jeans so he tossed them aside to clean up in the morning. Sam slipped his shirt over her head, laying her back on the pillows. He pulled the covers up to keep her warm. “You can turn around Cas. Thanks.” 

“I think I’m going to lay down. I feel drained and my grace needs to recharge,” Cas commented, removing his trench coat and loosening his tie. He practically crawled into the olive green sofa and closed his eyes. 

Sam watched with concern as Cas fell asleep. He was worried about them both, but Y/N more so. He showered hastily, but she was still out. Climbing into bed with her, he pulled her into his arms. He didn’t know if it was for her comfort or his own. 

~*~

Sam woke early the next morning, Y/N’s warm body pressed up against his own, making his morning wood very aware of her proximity. He glanced over at Dean’s bed to see his brother face down, snoring evenly. One look at the couch confirmed even Cas was still sleeping. But Y/N was nestled so close to him and she smelled so good, his instinct took over and he began rutting into her backside, the layers of cotton rubbing with delicious friction. His arm slipped around to her front, finding the warmth between her legs. 

It wasn’t the first time she and Sam had participated in extracurricular activities while one of them was still asleep, it kept the fire alive. And, it certainly wasn’t the first time they had done something like it with Dean asleep in the bed next to them. His hand started rubbing slow circles around her clit through her panties and he could feel a wet spot forming under his fingers. It turned him on immensely that he could give her that kind of pleasure even while she was still sleeping. Sam longed to feel her wetness on his fingers as he slipped two inside her panties and right into her tight channel, and he picked up speed with both his hand and his hips. 

Y/N moaned softly, rolling to her back and spreading her legs, giving Sam greater access to her soaked pussy. He should have been worried about her state given she may have been hit with a witches spell the night before, but all he could think of was getting his mouth on her. He slid down the bed and under the stiff sheets, pulling her panties with him as he sunk down lower. 

Sam’s hot breath fanned over the smooth skin of her mound and all he could smell was her arousal and it invaded his senses. He could feel it on his tongue before he even tasted her. Sam closed his eyes and descended upon her lips, licking through her sodden folds. Y/N’s hips jerked instinctively when the tip of his tongue ran over her swelling clit. Sam was relentless as he licked, sucked, and nibbled his way through her center, determined to get her as close to orgasm as he could before she woke, screaming his name. 

Two long, slim fingers slipped inside her, her slick easing their way. Sam sought out the treasure spot within that would awaken her and have her coming on his fingers and mouth in mere moments. He pumped his digits, curling them ruthlessly whilst he tongued at her throbbing clit. 

A hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his hair and burying his face even deeper in Y/N’s pussy. Her hips rocked against his face. Sinful moans and unintelligible sounds fell from her pouty mouth. She was close and he felt her bear down on his fingers. Sam sped up his ministrations, Y/N plummeting to her end. 

“Samuel Winchester!” Cas’s deep voice broke the reverie. 

Sam’s head shot up from between Y/N’s legs to see Cas standing next to the bed, an angry and perplexed look on his face. 

“What the fuck Cas!” Sam whispered loudly. “We’re not into your voyeurism, Dude. Back off!” 

“What the fuck is going on?” Dean groaned from the other bed. Peaking one eye open, it appeared that Sam was eating Y/N’s pussy while Cas watched. Well, if that ain’t creepy. 

“That was amazing,” Y/N murmured. She laid naked, still underneath Sam as he tried to cover her with his body, Cas refusing to move. 

“Yeah, I know. Tell me about it,” Cas retorted sarcastically. “He’s got a talented mouth this one. And those fingers, reaching where only he can re-.”

“Whoa! What the actual fuck is happening right now?” Dean demanded, now wide awake. “Sam, have you and Cas…?”

“What? No!” Sam protested. 

“Then…?” Dean drawled, gesturing between Sam and Cas. 

“Because that fucking witch hit us with a body swapping spell. So while Sam thought he was going down on his girlfriend while she was sleeping, which is really hot by the way, babe, he was actually going down on Cas...in my body,” Y/N explained in Cas’s voice. 

Sam jumped up from the bed as if he’d been burned, staring wide eyed at the naked body of his girlfriend on the bed. 

“Holy shit! What was that? I feel so much lighter,” Cas marvelled, cupping Y/N’s breasts. 

“Cas, that was a mind blowing orgasm, courtesy of one Sam Winchester. You’re welcome,” Y/N relayed, pulling the sheet up her still naked body. She liked to think she was modest, even if she wasn’t really the one naked.  

“Thank you, Sam. Is it customary to thank your sexual partner after such an experience?” Cas wondered aloud. 

“Fuck yes,” Dean agreed. “But, we have more mind blowing things to worry about.” 

“Like how is my girlfriend in Cas’s body if the witch is dead?” Sam pointed out. 

“For starters,” Dean nodded. “Secondly, how is that Cas has never experienced an orgasm?”

“Before I met the three of you, I simply observed human behavior. I never engaged in it,” Cas reminded them. 

“The female orgasm is pretty fucking amazing, but the male one ain’t half bad,” Y/N remarked, crossing to the small kitchette to start a pot of coffee. 

Three heads, including her own, whipped around to look at her. 

“What? I woke up in the middle of the night and was curious about the morning wood Cas’s vessel was sporting. I will say this, Sam, babe, I have a whole new appreciation for your body now,” she smiled, turning back to the coffee pot. “This is a whole new world.”

“Sam, can we try this again once I have regained my vessel?” Cas looked up at Sam from the bed with his girlfriend’s face and eyes. 

“What? No!” Sam croaked, stepping further away from the bed. 

Dean rose from the bed, laughing. “I don’t even want to know.” 

“Cas, if it’s okay with Sam, I’d be happy to help you experience your first male orgasm,” Y/N said. 

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Sam objected, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Oh, baby, don’t get jealous. I only have eyes for you, but you haven’t seen what this vessel is packing,” Y/N divulged. 

“Is it..is it bigger than mine?” Sam asked, his eyes sliding down Cas’s vessel. 

“No, it’s not babe, but still impressive,” Y/N admitted. 

“What about mine?” Dean called out from the bathroom.

“About the same, Dean!” Y/N answered. 

“How do you know how big my brother’s dick is, Y/N?” Sam demanded. 

“Strip poker, Sammy. She kicked my ass!” Dean interjected, opening the door to the bathroom and joining the others. 

“That’s my girl!” Sam cheered. “But can we fix this so I can get all of my girlfriend back?”

“I don’t know. I kinda like this body. Cas, can you teach me how to use your grace?” Y/N inquired.

“Are you going to use it to pleasure yourself, Y/N?” Dean smirked knowingly at his friend. 

“Hell yeah! I want to know what it feels like to get a blowjob,” Y/N confessed. “Can I use the grace to give myself a blowjob?”

“I’d be happy to show you, Y/N,” Cas offered. 

“Listen, we’re going back to the house to see what we missed. Y/N, you and Cas stay here and do...whatever,” Dean said. 

“Keep your hands off my girlfriend’s dick!” Sam pointed at Castiel. 

“I bet you never thought those words would come out of your mouth!” Dean roared. 

“This is gonna be so fucking awesome,” Y/N murmured, removing the suit coat she was still wearing. 

“Can you at least wait until we leave?” Dean asked. 

“Get a move on! I’ve got things to teach and things to learn!” Y/N cackled, removing the rest of the angel’s clothing. 

“This is so fucked up,” Sam mumbled, reaching for his clothes. 

Dean and Sam walked out of the room shaking their heads. “Sam, this isn’t even the most fucked up thing that has happened to us. But, at least Cas is getting laid.” 

“Dude, that’s my girlfriend!” Sam argued. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time one of us shared,” Dean smiled, climbing into Baby, leaving his brother staring in disbelief as he fumbled with the door handle.

A Whole New Experience - The sequel...

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @seenashwrite @crashdevlin @thoughtslikeaminefield @emoryhemsworth

The Sam Sin-dicate / Jared’s Menagerie: @mtngirlforever @supernatural-jackles

[vintagevalentinex]

Crunch

So I had the day off today and I had this Cas/Reader story floating around in my brain for a while and I finally figured out how to write it.  I hope it’s not bad. :/  It’s really hard to keep him in character.  Anyway, it’s super fluffy so I hope you like it!

@abaddonwithyall, @icecream-and-winchesters @bovaria

Title: Crunch Author: vintagevalentinexx Words: ~1800 Pairing: (Castiel x Reader) Warnings: Slight angst, but not really.  Super fluffy.  Maybe OOC Cas at the end (I’m sorry :/)

Your eyes were drooping with sleep as you paged through yet another thick tome of lore, hoping to find something, anything on The Darkness.  The boys had left you behind at the Bunker with a recuperating Cas, concerned that the angel wouldn’t be able to take care of himself.  You let out a heavy sigh, slamming the dusty book shut, deciding to make sure that Cas hasn’t broken anything.  Walking down the hallway you can hear him talking to someone, presumably Sam or Dean.  You could faintly hear something along the lines of, “What is a Netflix?”  A smile ghosted on your lips as you gently knocked on the door, soon being greeted by the blue eyed angel.

“Hello, (Y/N).” “Hey Cas, what are you up to?” You could hear yelling in the background on his phone, probably Dean, “Ask her….!” Your brows furrowed in confusion as your gaze made its way back to meet blue eyes.  Cas was fidgeting as he looked at you, seeming as though he was conflicted with what the voice on the phone wanted him to say.  He took a deep (though unneeded) breath and looked at you.  “Dean tells me that it is customary to ask you if you would like to ‘Netflix and Chill,’ but I am still a little uncertain as to what a Netflix is and why you would want to be cold at the same time…” Heat rose to your cheeks immediately as Cas continued to ramble on, mostly to himself.  You screamed loud enough so Dean could hear you on the other end of the line “You are such a shit, Winchester!” You could hear raucous laughter through the phone as you stormed away, knowing your face was bright red as you went back into the library to continue research.  You hid your face in another large book as you heard Cas come into the room. “I….Sam told me what ‘Netflix and Chill’ means and I apologize.  I, in no way was attempting to engage in sexual relations with you, (Y/N).” You peeked out of the book, “It’s…it’s okay, Cas.  I know how Dean is.” You chewed on your lip, surprisingly a little disappointed by his comment.  You had liked Cas from the moment you met him.  He was beautiful; that was the only word you could think of when your eyes first gazed upon him.  It wasn’t just his vessel.  While his vessel was equally attractive, it was something else, something deeper that you could not see, but you could feel it.  He was light, hope, and beauty, yet he was a fierce warrior, a soldier of God who had on several occasions laid his own life on the line for the good of all people.  He took your breath away, and yet you knew that the idea of being with him was something that could never happen.  He was an angel, a being that had no need of your human emotions, and probably didn’t need to understand them.  You wondered if he even had the capacity to know how to love another being in that way. You found yourself blushing again, Cas tilting his head and squinting ever so slightly as he looked at you, as if trying to figure you out.  You smiled nervously, running a hand through your hair.  “It’s no big deal, really.  I promise.”

This seemed to appease him as he smiled at you, picking up the laptop from the table you were sitting at to help with research.

A Few Weeks Later You smiled to yourself as you finished making a nice pasta dinner for the boys, wiping your hands on your apron as you fixed up some plates, bringing them into the library for the boys to eat while they did research.  You greeted the boys and Cas cheerfully as you entered the room, placing the food down on the table on top of the books, getting ‘bitch face’ from both Sam and Dean as Cas curiously looked on. “Both of you need to eat!  You’ve been sitting here for hours and the only thing you’ve consumed is whiskey!” Dan smirked at you, “Ever hear of a liquid lunch, (Y/N)?” You rolled your eyes, turning your gaze to Cas.  “I would have made something for you as well, Cas, but I know you don’t like to eat.” He nodded, smiling sheepishly at you, “Yes, all I can taste are molecules.  It is very unpleasant.” You stifled a giggle as you stared amusedly at him, nodding curtly as you made your way back into the kitchen, stopping at the doorway before you left the room.  “You two better finish that pasta before I come back into this room, or I’m going to force feed the both of you.” As you walk back to the kitchen you hear muffled voices, some laughter, and a sigh of frustration.  You shrug your shoulders as you get to work at cleaning the kitchen up, trying to memorize the small smile Cas gave you in the library. I need to stop staring at him like that.  It’s like he can feel me looking at him.  Should I tell him?  Maybe then once he shoots me down I can move on with my life.  Am I ready for that kind of hurt?  Damn it, (Y/N) you are a hunter!  You knew that attachments were never in the cards for you.  He’s awkward enough without you telling him how you feel; you don’t need to make things worse for you, or for the boys. You didn’t realize you were holding onto a plate tightly as you finally broke out of your daydreaming.  Sighing, you placed the last plate into the cabinet, pulling the apron off of you.  You made your way back into the library, stopping in the hallway before the door as you overheard the following conversation: “…but what should I do?  I have read it is customary to give gifts as a token of affection…” “That is true, but if she’s special you’re going to want to make sure that she knows it.” “Yeah, Cassie-boy, you can’t just beat around the bush with things like this.” “I do not understand, Dean.  Why would I cause physical harm to shrubbery to show her that I like her?” You tried to stifle a giggle at Cas’s reply, knowing that both of the boys were groaning at his naivety.  You wondered who he was talking about and at that realization it felt like you were being stabbed in the heart.  She must be something truly special, whoever she is. You made it obvious you were coming into the room so not as to give away your accidental snooping, grabbing a book as you sat down next to Sam.  You could feel three pairs of eyes staring at you as you slowly look up from the text. “…Yes?” Dean smirked at you, “Seems ol’ Cas here has a bit of a crush on a lady, and well…you’re basically a lady—“

“Gee thanks, Dean.  Your compliments always fluster me so.” “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Anyway, so he needs to know how he should let this lady know.” You pursed your lips.  So now I have to help him woo someone who isn’t me.  Great.  This is definitely making my life so much easier. “Well…” you started.  “Most women enjoy flowers.  They are usually a really sweet gesture and—“ Cas poofed out before you could even finish your sentence.  You shrugged your shoulders as you continued to read.

The Next Day You nudged the heavy Bunker door open with your foot, groceries burdening your arms as you made your way down the steps.  Sam and Dean had left that morning for a quick salt and burn, and you had decided that the kitchen needed to be replenished.  Cas was nowhere to be found after he poofed out of the Bunker yesterday.  After you quickly put the items away, you couldn’t wait to get to your room and catch up on some trashy TV show you started the other day.  As your hand found its way to your doorknob, you felt a dull buzzing sensation emanating from deeply within you.  It felt warm, and almost comforting.  You shrugged it off as you turned the handle, pushing the door open.  You dropped your phone and the snacks you brought in complete shock at the state of your room.

Flowers.  There were flowers everywhere.  All shapes and sizes.  Wildflowers, roses, daisies, sunflowers, carnations, lilies, orchids, violets, and so many more.  There were even flowers you had never seen before.  What the hell?  Thinking about what you said to Cas yesterday, you felt your cheeks heating up as you made your way further into your room.  You sat on your bed, looking around at your room, completely lost for words. “I couldn’t find a flower that could completely capture your beauty so I just decided to get all of them…” You looked up and saw a nervous looking Cas, holding a single pink peony in his hand, twirling the stem around between his fingers.  “I…Cas…I don’t know what to say…” “Sometimes, when you think passionately enough, I can hear your thoughts, (Y/N).  They don’t come in overly loud.  They are more like whispers, like the wind humming to me…” “I’m so sorry, Cas.  I should have never thought that way about you; I’m just being silly…” “And when I listen to these whispers, it makes me happy.  It makes me happy to think of you smiling while you are cooking dinner.  I have found that I relish in your laughter when Sam or Dean tells a funny joke.  I do not completely understand these feelings, but I know that when I am near you I feel less broken.  I feel healed.”   Your breath hitches in your throat as he speaks, your mouth too dry to say anything as he continues. “I can feel the warmth of your soul, (Y/N).  It just feels so right.  I have seen and felt many souls in the millennia of my existence, and yours…yours is truly the most beautiful.” You were nearly shaking with feeling as Cas spoke to you.  Your eyes watered up as he spoke, completely overtaken with emotion.  You stood up, willing your body to walk to him, your feet felt heavy as you slowly made your way closer.  You took his large hand into your smaller one, bringing it up, placing it to your heart. “It is only beautiful because I know you, Castiel.” He smiled widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he brought his other hand up, placing the peony behind your ear as he drew you in close, pressing you to his chest as he bent down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.   “I suppose this means that I have a crunch on you, (Y/N).” “It’s actually called a crush, Cas.” “Why would I want to crush you, (Y/N)?” “Nevermind.  I have a crunch on you too.”

[shirtlesssammy]

15x03: The Rupture

Then:

Long Live the Queen

Now:

We start right where we left off. Hunters are guarding the failing perimeter, while our team heads back to the crypt to perform Rowena’s spell. They set to salting the place while Rowena casts her spell. It starts to reinforce the barrier, but then things start to flicker and Rowena is knocked back in a blast. The spell didn’t work.

There are too many ghosts and they’re too strong. Dean suggests killing as many ghosts as possible before the wall falls, but Rowena scoffs at the idea. Belphegor walks off and Cas follows him. Dean gets all soldier mode and starts yelling about not giving up. 

*Samwitch Alert* Sam, ever the mediator, hunkers down next to Rowena to ask if she needs anything. He rests his hand gently on her shoulder and they share meaningful looks. 

Meanwhile, Bel and Cas wander the graveyard. Bel tells Cas, “You can’t even look at me.” Put a pin in that comment. They wander to the hell mouth. 

Sam and Dean discuss strategy. Dean’s pissed at God. (*AHEM*). He’s not going down without a fight. Sam is distracted, staring at a lovely framed Rowena looking at the Book of the Damned. 

Bel has an idea. He suggests finding Lilith’s Crook, a horn Lilith used to keep order with all the demons in Hell that she sent to Earth.

If they get it and use it, they can draw all the ghosts and demons that are now topside, back to Hell. Rowena has a spell of her own devising to close the hole in the ground. (Crack thought: This is a healing spell. Maybe she’ll use it on herself to heal her own wound.) The spell only takes a couple ingredients, and she’ll need an assistant. She says this while looking at Cas, but then says, “Dibs on Samuel.” Lololololol. That’s right, girl, he’s all yours. 

Someone will also have to lob the spell bomb over the edge of the tear. Belphegor then pipes up asking for help in Hell. “I want protection. Muscle.” Without a beat, Dean responds, “Yeah, Cas’ll go.” And Cas’s look of WTF sums things up quite nicely. Cas has been to Hell before. I mean, yes, uurgh, saving your sorry ass from it, Dean (ok, I’m on no Dean hate-train but it’s easy to lash back at him when he’s being this way.) “Well, it sounds like I don’t have a choice.” I feel like all three members of Team Free Will uttered something along those lines tonight and I’m not well. Dean says, “Go team.” There’s no free will in this house. 

Ketch is still in the hospital and is visited by the demon, Ardat. Things don’t go well. (Remember in Temple of Doom when they ripped a still beating heart out of someone and an entire film industry created a whole new rating because of it? Now they’re just showing this shit on network TV at 7pm. What a time to be alive.) (Also, good riddance Ketch. You killed Eileen and I’ll never forgive you.)

Belphegor continues to needle Cas with the idea that he’s not wanted by the Winchesters. Cas tries to ignore him. Cas asks how they get down there. Belphegor isn’t sure and walks closer to the edge to look over. Cas pushes him over the edge and a good time was had by all. Cas jumping in after him, not so much fun. 

Bleached hair hunter (what’s her name, she seems cool and I hope she sticks around) shows up with all the spell ingredients for Rowena. Dean reveals that he DOES know about Harry Potter. 

Dean hears from Ketch, but it’s not Ketch, and Dean spills their entire plan to Ardat. Question: If Castiel is spelled with one ‘s’ but his nickname is spelled ‘Cass’, why wouldn’t Belphegor’s nickname be ‘Bell’? (Why yes, I do like to rehash centuries old fandom sticking points.) 

Cas and Belphegor wander around a very quiet Hell. Everyone is topside apparently. 

Belphegor tells Cas that he thinks he’s growing on Sam and Dean, “like a cancer.” Cas tells him that they’re using him and that he shouldn’t mistake that for care (AAGHH, stop). They find Lilith’s vault. 

Inside the vault, they discover a demon happily looting the place. He greets Belphegor cheerfully. Looting is fun! When the other demon doesn’t have the horn, however, Cas kills him immediately. Cas is SO DONE. Belphegor leads Cas to the box containing Lilith’s crook and we learn that it’s warded by an Enochian hymn praising Lucifer. How very on brand for Lilith! She was also the only one who could read Enochian so, Belphegor points out, it’s a damn convenient thing that Cas came along on this trip to Hell. 

Cas tries to recite the incantation on the box but it fails. Belphegor points out that perhaps it ought to be sung. We as a fandom are then ROBBED of Misha singing the entire incantation. (CC: Shaving people punting things? After a suitable mourning period, of course.)

Dean sets up next to the Hell pit while inside, Sam’s torn between fighting alongside his brother and performing the quieter (but essential) magics inside. THIS SCENE -- this tiny line represents so much of what I hope for Sam’s journey this season. That he’s described as a witch by Rowena, that he’s GOOD at this and leadership… There’s so much potential just waiting below the surface for Sam to give voice and form. “And magic isn’t fighting?” Rowena asks him as he frets. “[Dean’s] doing his part; it’s time for you to do yours.” GUH

In Hell, Cas pulls out the crook. It is indeed a sheep’s horn. He’s about to hand it over when he’s tossed across the room. It’s Ardat! She’s been onto Belphegor since the gates flew open, suspecting that he’d try to take over Hell. Cas and Ardat fight, Ardat arguing that Belphegor’s aspirations are much higher than he lets on. Belphegor kills Ardat and Cas confronts him about her claims. Belphegor laughs and then casts Cas from the vault. 

He crows over his victory to Cas. The crook is a siphon that can pull all the souls into him, giving him godlike power. Cas realizes that every move by Belphegor has been carefully planned to somehow get Cas down to Hell with him to open the chest and get him the horn. WHERPS.  As Belphegor blows the horn, the Earth and Hell resonate with it. Cas struggles against a forceful wind to try to get back into the vault and stop Belphegor. 

For That Shirt Barely Survived Science

In the crypt, Sam and Rowena join hands and start the spell.

They chant together. Sam turns away for a moment to look towards the door, no doubt wondering what’s going on outside. Rowena calls him to task with a gentle smile and “Sam.” GUH that’s what finally broke me. (Boris has always been the more ardent Samwitch shipper but this gentle remonstrance really did me in.) The spell ignites. Dean’s hex bag glows and he hurls it into the pit. Belphegor fills with souls. It’s happening! All the things!

And then Cas tackles Belphegor and the horn ceases abruptly. He punches Belphegor again and again. (It has been a VERY trying couple of days.)

Upstairs, something’s wrong. The rift continues to crumble but Rowena looks…afraid. 

Cas is interrupted from punching Belphegor by the demon pleading for mercy in Jack’s voice. “It’s me. Jack.” UGH fucking demons. Cas is visibly tormented by this. He spreads his hand, hesitates, then summons his grace. It...FLICKERS. (Ruh roh) Still, it ignites enough for him to press his palm to Belphegor’s forehead - to Jack’s forehead - and smite him. (Ever since that Shaving people promo, I’ve been expecting Jacks’ body to burn but I never imagined that Cas would have had to be the one to do it. What a horrible, traumatic thing. Excuse me while I wrap Cas in a blanket, then myself, then Boris, then all of you readers.) (Boris: *crying noise, crying noise*)

Sam and Dean compare notes over the phone. The crack is closing but “something doesn’t feel right.” That old hunter instinct is correct, because things are about to get even worse. Rowena wanders across the room while Sam is on the phone. He looks over in time to see her STAB HERSELF in the shoulder. She pulls out her resurrection sachet. “Won’t need that where I’m going.” 

Rowena bitterly explains that they’ve bungled their last option. Or, penultimate option. There’s one more spell she can use to contain the souls. “Death is an infinite vessel,” she explains. “It draws its power from its caster.” Tears linger on her cheeks as she reveals that there are only two ingredients: her “still-coursing blood and the last is my final breath.” She’ll absorb all the spirits and after a time, her body will break down and release them all to Hell where they belong. (She will also, of course, be trapped there AND dead which SUCKS BIG TIME.) 

Sam tries to talk her out of it but she doubles down. She needs to die and Sam’s the one who must do it. “My real, permanent demise is in your hands. It’s in Death’s books.” Sam tries the “screw fate” argument on her but it doesn’t fly.

Outside, Cas reemerges from the pit and Dean confronts him about the shaky spell. Cas explains that he had to kill Belphegor and the crook was destroyed, and Dean handles it with his customary grace. JK Dean flips the fuck out. 

Rowena says something incredibly intriguing to me, then. Rowena tells Sam that she wouldn’t kill herself for the sake of anybody, but she would do it for prophecy. For magic, to which she’s devoted her life. (I’m looking directly at Billie here, who chose to reveal the agent of Rowena’s demise to her. Who MEDDLED and helped bring this about. Billie! What’s your game? Call me!) Sam tries to pull away from Rowena, who has gripped his hand and pressed the knife to her gut. “We’ve gotten quite fond of each other, haven’t we?” she asks and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. I’d love to write that suddenly PUPPIES ran into the crypt and they played with them for the rest of the episode but…

Rowena tearfully commands Sam to kill her, weighing her life against the fate of the world and the survival of Dean. She pushes AAAALLL of Sam’s buttons. Sam embraces her and stabs her right in the gut at the same time. She forces him to look her in the eyes afterward. “That’s my boy,” she tells him and I take a crying break from this recap because this performance is too goddamn much. 

And just like that, the first ingredient is in play. Rowena walks from the crypt in her flowing pink gown like a stained rose and souls fly into her. She strides to the edge of the pit and looks at Team Free Will one last time before saying, “Goodbye, boys.” She throws herself down into the depths of Hell. The ground seals behind her. It’s done. 

For Buffy Summers “Death is your gift” Science

In the bunker Dean’s footsteps echo down an empty hallway. He checks in on Sam, who’s sitting sorrowfully in his room. Sam brushes away tears before turning to face Dean and I’m basically dead right now. 

Dean drops a quick recap: the town is safe, Hell is closed, Ketch is dead. Dean tries to rally Sam. They beat Chuck’s final apocalypse. Hooray?

Afterwards, Dean throws a giant taco party for all their hunter friends. JUST KIDDING! Dean drinks hard liquor alone in the library when Cas comes in.

Cas asks how Sam’s doing and Dean is just…so angry. Dean asks Cas why he didn’t stick to the plan. Cas defends his decisions. “Something always goes wrong.” 

Dean rejoins with: “Why does that something always seem to be you,” and I’m feeling sudden empathy for Ketch, for I have also just had my heart ripped out of my chest and held, still beating, up to my face. 

“You used to trust me. Give me the benefit of the doubt.” But that’s no longer the case. Cas winds through the issue quickly, with spare words. He’s tried to talk to Dean about what he’s going through, about his failing powers, but Dean freezes him out. Dean still blames him for Mary’s death. Cas realizes it now fully, perhaps. He is DEAD to Dean. This is all delivered so softly. So TERRIBLY softly.

Dean meets this all with utter silence. He is so emotionally shut down, he can’t even shout anymore. There are no broken lamps. It’s just one non-functioning Dean with no words and bare flickers of eye contact.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” Cas concludes and turns to go. 

Finally, Dean speaks. “Where you going?”

“Jack’s dead. Chuck is gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.” Dean speaks not a word, doesn’t move a muscle, and Castiel turns and walks out the door. And just like that, Team Free Will fractures.

We’re back to Sam and Dean against the world, and doesn’t everybody just…feel great?

______________________________

Oh, My Still-Beating Quotes:

Get me close to the epicenter, find me a nice protected ghost free space. I’ll patch those crumbling walls right up and we’ll all be home for high tea.

I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some glorified fanboy get the last word

To put it in American action movie terms, you’ll be carrying the bomb, I light the fuse, you toss it in

Oh Cas, your voice, it’s like an angel

I’ll be a god. Or, you know, close enough

I know this in my bones. It has to be this way.

I know we’ve gotten quite fond of each other, haven’t we?

______________________________

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[pathetic-has-been-rockstar]

Memories and a movie

Pairing: Castiel x Dean

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square filled: Miracle on 34th Street

Warnings: none

Summary:   Dean Winchester has never been one for holidays, but he's fond of his few good childhood memories. When Castiel unwillingly upsets him, he will have to find a way to make up for it.

Words: 2391

Beta: @raspberrymama

my work can be found on AO3, here! If you’re interested in the whole series, you just have to click here!

Dean is in the kitchen again, making popcorns and humming a cheesy Christmas song that he heard while grocery shopping, and just won't get out of his head. He's not too bothered about it, all in all.

You won't be joining them at the bunker at least for another day, due to the closed roads, but the rest of them can start to get in the Christmas spirit. They decided to watch a Christmas-themed movie, so to give Cas and Jack the full holidays-are-coming experience. While he throws some more butter in the popcorn, he looks for the salt, trying not to spill stuff around.

A moment later, Sam walks in the kitchen, holding his pc and looking at him.

“Hey. Need a hand with that?”

“Yeah, pass me that bowl. Do we have it?”

“Yep. Miracle on 34th Street, as usual. Are you sure you don't want to watch the new version, too? I think maybe Jack...”

Dean stops him before he can go on. “Sammy, we've been over this. You and I are going to show the kid our Christmas movie, and that's it. If he doesn't like it, he'll show us his favourite one, and we will never forgive him for that.”

Sam scoffs softly and clicks a key on his pc. “Alright, then, I'll throw in the subtitles and we're good to go. We'll wait for you in the...”

“Dean cave!”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “... yes, Dean, we'll wait for you in the Dean cave.”

“Don't say it like that. It's a temple of happiness and comfort. It's the Dean cave!”

Sam opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it. He sighs and walks away from the kitchen, smiling. Dean is insufferable, of course, but it's a different kind of a pain in the ass. A light-hearted, happy Dean who teases and mocks people around him because it's fun, and not to keep a distance to avoid painful separations. All in all, he's glad of being nagged like that.

He walks in the infamous Dean cave and he finds everyone already settling down. He connects the HDMI cable to his pc and goes to sit on the couch, next to Eileen. She makes a small hint at him, and Sam nods. He clears his throat and looks at Castiel, curled up on an armchair next to the couch.

“Uh, Cas... why don't you give us the armchair? We can definitely be more comfortable there. Here, take the couch.”

Shrugging, Castiel moves on the couch. A moment later, Dean walks through the door with a ridiculously huge bowl of popcorn, and goes to sit next to Castiel. Jack stands up, going to turn off the lights, and Sam hits play on the pc before going back to the armchair and letting Eileen sit on his legs.

“So... did you love it, or did you adore it?” Dean beams at Castiel and Jack as soon as he turns the light back on.

“I like it! It put me in a good mood”, Jack nods, smiling. Dean chuckles, satisfied, then turns at Castiel, who still hasn't spoken, and looks pretty confused.

"What troubles you, Cas?" Dean asks, curious to see if he will have to explain something.

“I don't really understand the point of this movie.”

“The-the point? Cas, it's the best Christmas movie ever made, until Trading Places, what do you think is the point?”

Castiel shakes his head, an incredulous expression on his face. “Dean, it's a terrible story about how the American system cages a man for believing to be a fictional character. The judge emits his sentence on a case that doesn't belong in a courtroom, based on what's written on currency. It all stems from the troubles of an alcoholic man. How can you love this movie?”

Dean looks at Castiel, horrified. Sam knows that face. It's the same expression he had when he was forced to destroy Baby to survive a ghost attack. Whatever it's going to happen, the happy atmosphere of movie night is about to go up in flames. Surprisingly, Dean just sets his jaw and nods.

“Alright, I get it. Not everyone can appreciate it.”

“I'm just saying that there's not a lot that...”

“Shut up!” Dean barks, a second before walking away without giving anyone the time to stop him. Confused, Castiel turns to Sam.

“What did I say?”

“Cas, uh... Dean loves this movie. Very, very much. We... we used to watch it with dad, so... I-I think he was hoping you'd like it, too.”

For a long moment, Castiel stays quiet, then nods. “I understand. I suppose I'll go apologize to him.”

“It's not... let him cool off a bit, maybe.”

“Don't worry, Sam. I know exactly what to do.” Castiel ignores Sam's suggestion before going after Dean, leaving Sam, Eileen and Jack in the room. Jack stands up and stretches, still in a good mood.

“Don't worry Sam. If there's anyone able to calm Dean down, that's Cas.”

Sam chuckles, taking Eileen's hand. “You know what? You're right. Let's clean this place and go to bed, we'll deal with the lovebirds tomorrow.”

They all laugh, and start tidying up the place.

Castiel walks in Dean's room, awkwardly standing just a few steps from the door. Dean is sitting at his desk, going through some stuff, and Castiel can take a look at him. He studies how his dark blond hair is slightly ruffled on the back of his neck, after being pressed against the back of the couch for the last couple of hours, how the shirt's fabric stretches on his broad shoulders. It's looking at the movement of his shoulders that Cas realizes that Dean is moving. He turns to him, and gives him an indecipherable look.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Dean... I wanted to...”

“Ah, look... it's fine, man. It's just a movie. No big deal.”

“Sam explained to me it was a sort of tradition. I should have known there was a story behind it. There's always a story with you.”

Dean's lips curl again in one of the half smiles that Cas has learned to map and interpret down to a fine art... in a few seconds. There's always a moment or two of pure amazement at seeing how his whole traits seem to turn him from a weathered hunter into a smiling man, showing the Dean he's always cherished so deeply.

“You know... you're right. Guess I was mad because it's one of the good stories, this one.”

“... would you like to share it with me?”

For a fleeting moment, Castiel sees the surprise in Dean's eyes, as clear as fleeting. It almost hurts to think that he could be surprised to be asked to share something obviously so dear to him, but Castiel stays quiet and watches Dean nodding in agreement.

“It's just... you know we didn't have exactly an easy childhood. I had to take care of Sammy from day one, cause dad... you know. You heard more than enough. But Christmas... soometimes it was not about... this.” Dean says, gesturing at the room around him. “Sure, it was always in a different motel, always after some monster. But... the police rarely work on Christmas' night. Families stick together, making it harder for the monsters to hunt. Motels would offer something to their guests, especially to us. They saw a single dad working his ass off with two children... it tends to make people feel sympathy, especially at Christmas.”

Castiel nods, entranced by Dean's voice. He keeps smiling, and it's clear that, despite everything that man put him and Sam through, he still misses his father. His dad.

“And no matter where we were... that movie is a classic. If it wasn't on a channel, it was on another. When he managed to stay with us, Dad would make some popcorn, usually with so much butter that you could see through the bag once you were done, and we would all hunker down and watch that movie together.”

“... it sounds like a wonderful memory, indeed.”

“Yeah, it... it is. One year... one year Sammy was so upset that we had to decide: telling him that Santa wasn't real, or inventing an excuse to justify the fact that, once again, we didn't get a new house.”

“How did you deal with that?”

“We told him that Santa couldn't get a new house for us because we had to move constantly, to stay safe. We had to stick with that for a couple of years, before he grew out of that. I... I did my best to let him be a kid, Cas. Standing up to dad wasn't easy, and I... I just did my best.”

Castiel must fight the anger he feels understanding why Dean sees himself the way he does, and walks as close as possible to Dean. He places a hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to find the right words to say.

“Dean... you did a wonderful job with Sam. You shouldn't have been forced to look out for him. Your father was supposed to do it... and I'm sure that Sam is grateful for it. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate the movie.”

“Ah, Cas, it's fine. I overreacted.”

“No. It's not fine. Allow me to apologize.”

“... there's no need to...”

“Dean, I understood that around Christmas is customary to make kind gestures to each other. Please, let me.”

Dean chuckles, raising his hands.

“Alright. Let's see what you got for me.”

“Fine. Get dressed.”

“... what?”

“Get dressed.”

Dean smiles, curious to see what Cas has in mind and stands up to grab his coat. He puts it on, takes a scarf and a hat, puts on his gloves, and finally turns to face him.

“Is this enough?”

“It is. Are you ready to take a flight?”

“Not a fan of it, but... whatever makes you happy.”

Castiel gives him a small hint before placing a hand on his shoulder, and Dean experiences the familiar and dreaded feeling of his stomach being mashed from the inside during teleportation. A second later, when he opens his eyes, he manages to steady himself against a brick wall and take a deep breath before bending down and trying to catch his breath.

The air is cold, heavy, and Dean knows the smell lingering in the air, even if he can't pinpoint where or when. It feels familiar, but somehow distant, and it brings mixed feelings with it. When he finally feels his stomach settling down, he straightens his back and looks at the angel who just brought him there.

“Cas... where are we?”

“Why don't we go find out?” Cas answers, with a small smile that lets out his anticipation. Dean, affected by Cas' visible excitement, starts walking towards the exit of the alley where they appeared.

Before they walk out of it, Dean has a clear idea of where they are. There's only one city in the world that has that particular kind of bright night, those sounds mixed in a cacophony so terrible to result irresistible, topped with the smell of a thousand different foods, people and exhaust pipes. When they walk out from the alley, his hypotheses are confirmed, and Dean laughs, incredulous, turning to Cas.

“You brought me to New York?”

“So it seems.”

“What the...”

“There.”

Cas points at something behind Dean, who feels his heart stopping for a second, then starting to beat furiously in an attempt to catch up. Sure enough, turning around Dean sees the building of Macy's, dressed in blinding lights and Christmas decorations.

For a moment, Castiel is deeply worried. He never saw Dean reacting like that. His mouth fell open, while his whole face transformed into a blank expression of utter disbelief. He just keeps staring at Macy's, his eyes running up and down the building the only movement that Cas can see, as if trying to find a way to get in, or something like that. After a few very long moments, he decides to risk a question.

“Dean... are you alright?”

Dean turns to Cas so quickly that he almost takes a step back. He raises his arm, pointing at the building.

“You... you brought me to New York. On Christmas' week. To friggin' Macy's? Because you didn't like my favourite Christmas movie... you thought it was a good idea to bring me into it?”

At six and seven for Dean's reaction, Castiel nods. He thought he'd appreciate the intention behind the gesture. Perhaps he's been too intrusive. Perhaps he interpreted the sharing of his story in the wrong way, or perhaps Dean didn't mean that...

“Cas... that's the... that is the most stupid, senseless, sweet thing that anyone is ever done for me!” Dean practically shouts in Castiel's face.

“Why are you yelling now?”

“Because you are not supposed to... Cas, how... why did you do this?”

When he finally realizes why Dean is so upset, Castiel smiles. A big, wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle and the most human side of him flash clearly like one of the Christmas lights around them. Dean Winchester, the legendary hunter, the man who came back from Hell, the one who died and came back to tell the tale more than once... is embarrassed. The most brazen, skilled conqueror of waitress of the United States has no idea about how to react to a genuine gesture of care and affection.

The smile of Castiel erupts into a light-hearted laughter, and Dean is bedazzled in finding out that, in fact, he loves that. He thought he'd hate Castiel laughing at him in a moment like that, but... he was wrong. He adores his laughter. It tells him that Cas just read all the right things in his reaction, understood where they came from, and why they are there.

Dean blushes, sticks his hands in his pockets and mutters, in a falsely angry tone “Shut up” at Castiel. He doesn't stop Castiel when he nudges him with a shoulder and stays close to him.

“What do you say about we go and take a closer look at that place?”

Trying to keep his coolness, and failing miserably, Dean nods. “Well, since we're here...”

Cas shakes lightly his head, impatient and slightly exasperated. “Yeah, we're here. Thanks for seconding me. Come on, let's go.”

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

Thank you for reading! 

I truly hope you enjoyed this little story. Every kind of feedback is very much appreciated, just as much as likes and reblogs!

Please, do not repost my works or part/s of it on different places, not even if you give credits.

[cas-lost-grace]

If you feel it, maybe “dean, my vessel is malfunctioning.”?

Thank you for the prompt! Here you have the silly, smutty, little something I came up with

“Dean, I think my vessel is malfunctioning,” Castiel says into the phone.“What? What’s going on?” Dean asks, agitated. He knew it was a bad idea letting Cas go on a single hunt in his state. His grace has been drained and he’s not really human yet, but he doesn’t have all his angelic mojo either. Dean shouldn’t have let him go, he should have insisted on him staying in the bunker.“My penis is erect.”Dean blinks into his coffee mug. He thought he was awake but he must be still dreaming because there’s no way in hell Castiel has just said what Dean heard.“I know it is its natural function, but I am not sexually aroused. I just woke up and it was erect. I don’t think it’s supposed to do that without sexual stimulation.”Dean huffs out a laugh. He’s still mortified, but at the same time, he’s relieved. At least Cas isn’t actually hurt.“It’s just a morning wood, Cas. It happens.”“Has it happen to you?” Cas asks with doubt in his voice and Dean doesn’t need to see him to know he’s squinting.“Yeah, Cas. Many times. It’s nothing to worry about.”“But what do I do about it?”Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. When did his life become this particular shade of absurd?“It will pass. You can take a cold shower to make it quicker.”“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Cas answers. He’s been such a princess ever since he started to have more human sensations. He hates cold and his nose is really sensitive so he sniffs everything and he will groan and moan when he has to sleep on a hard mattress or under scratchy blankets. Just the thought of Cas’ grumpy face makes Dean smile.“Well, you can also-” Dean stops himself. He can’t say that. No, he’s not going to say that to his angelic best friend.“I can what, Dean? Is there a more pleasant way to get rid of it?”Dean feels the heat rising into his cheeks. He’s desperately trying not to imagine Cas with a boner.“You can… touch it? Make yourself, uh, release?”“You mean masturbate?”

Dean lets his forehead hit the table.“Yeah, Cas, I mean masturbation. Get yourself off. You’ll get rid of your morning wood and have some new pleasant experience as a bonus.”“Hm.”“Alright, I’m gonna leave you to that,” Dean says ready to hang up, but Cas stops him.“Wait, Dean, how do I do that?”“What?”“I’ve never done that before, Dean,” he sounds exasperated. “I know people do it, but I usually try not to watch them.”Dean sighs remembering the one time Cas entered his room without knocking and caught Dean with his hand on his cock.“Alright, alright. Just wrap your hand around it? Not too loose, you need to find how tight you like it. Then move your hand up and down.” He can’t believe this is really happening.There’s a little disgruntled sound on the other end of the line. “Dean, it isn’t pleasant.”“What? You are doing it now?”“You told me to-”“Yes, but, you can’t-”“Oh, I see. It is not customary to talk about those things with other people.”“Not really, not with your friends.”“Who then?”“Your… um… usually, you only do this with your… lover?”“Oh, I see.” There’s a moment of silence. Dean should take advantage of it and find a way out of this awkward situation, but he seems frozen with his hand gripping the phone tightly and pressing it to his ear.“I guess this isn’t a usual situation,” Cas says very softly.Dean closes his eyes. “No, it isn’t.”“So, will you help me, Dean?”Dean swallows thickly. Don’t imagine him, don’t imagine him.“What’s wrong?”“It just… there’s too much friction, I don’t like it.”Dean gives up. He’s going to go with the flow and recover from the consequences later.“Spit into your palm. Get your cock wet. It will feel better.”He actually hears Cas spitting. His own cock gives an interested twitch.“Hm… Dean, that’s better. Oh.”Dean clenches his teeth. It’s impossible to not imagine Cas jerking off and Dean’s getting hard himself. This is the last chance to end this or he’ll be in too deep.“Okay, Cas, I think you’re good now. Enjoy the ride. I’ll call you later today.”“Wait, DeanDean swallows back a moan at the needy undertone in Cas’ husky voice.“What now?” he whispers.“I think your voice is helping.”Dean’s heart skips a beat. “Cas-” he breathes out.“Yes, Dean. Oh, this is good.”And that’s it. Dean is fully erect in his pants and his lower brain is getting in charge.“Don’t rush it, Cas. Make it last. It will be better in the end.”“Alright, alright, Dean.” His breathing is labored, his voice even huskier than usual. Dean palms himself through his jeans.“Use your other hand to play with your balls,” Dean suggests mentally convincing himself he’s only doing this to help his friend enjoy his first masturbatory experience.He gets a long pleased hum as a response and can’t hold back anymore. He opens his zipper and whips his cock out.“Do you like it?” he asks because he needs to hear Castiel’s breathy voice again.“Yeah,” Cas downright moans. Dean throws his head back, jerking his cock frantically. “I see why people spend so much time doing this.” Dean chuckles. He takes his own advice and spits into his palm.“What was that?”Dean freezes with his wet hand on his cock. “I, ugh, it was-”“Dean, are you masturbating too?” There’s no shaming in his tone, just a surprise, and something Dean deciphers as fascination. He bites his lip and nods. Then he realizes Cas can’t see that.“Yeah.” It must be barely audible. The moan on the other end is loud, though.“Dean, did you get erect while talking to me about masturbating?” The way he says it makes Dean believe he actually enjoys the idea pretty much.“Yeah. It happens.” He admits and starts stroking himself slowly.“Did you… oh, did you imagine me doing it? Is that what got you hard?”Dean doesn’t reply. He can’t. The words are stuck in his throat. He can barely breathe. And he’s so hard it’s almost painful.“Because I do that, I… I imagine you and it… oh, Dean, it makes me harder I… Dean, my cock is leaking.” The last part is said with a bit of concern.“It’s okay, babe,” Dean hears himself saying like his own voice is coming from far away. “Keep going, Cas, keep going.”“Dean!” Cas moans and Dean has to bite his lip to the point of pain to avoid coming too soon. “Dean, say something. Say you are enjoying this too.”“Yeah, Cas, I like this. I like you coming from hearing my voice.”“Yes, I’m… Dean, I’m gonna…”“Let go, babe, come for me.”The sounds Cas makes and the mental image that paints of him spilling over his fingers, tip Dean over the edge.He shakes with the strength of the orgasm, gasping for breath, riding the waves of pleasure. He’s vaguely aware of the sounds he makes, but he has no capacity to care.Then there’s silence on both ends except for their heavy breaths rattling through the speakers.“Dean?”“I’m here,” he says dumbly.“It was wonderful, Dean, thank you.”“Yeah, uhm, Cas… I think we-” he trails off. He doesn’t have the strength to say it even though he knows he should. He should tell Cas they should forget about this, never talk about it, never let anything like that happen again.“I wish we could do that again,” Cas says very softly. Dean’s heart is aching. “I wish I could actually see you. I wish I could touch you like that, be touched by you like that.”“Cas,” Dean sighs squeezing his eyes shut.“I know it would require us becoming lovers and you make it clear you don’t want that-”The words are like a cold shower waking Dean up from the mushy dream he was floating in. “What? How did I make myself clear about that?”“You said it on many occasions that you are only sexually interested in women.”“I… um…”“And besides that, you made it clear you are not looking for a relationship.”“Look, Cas, I don’t know what exactly I have said, but… sometimes I say things, because-” he has to take a deep breath to gather courage. His voice is still unsteady when he continues. “Sometimes I say things that aren’t really true because I want to hide the truth because… because it-”“Because it makes you vulnerable?”“Yeah, Cas, that’s it.”“Dean, I wish you could let yourself be vulnerable around me. I wish you trusted me. I would never hurt you.”“I do,” Dean whispers after a pause.Castiel doesn’t say anything, Dean suspects he’s giving him space. He takes it gladly because he needs a moment to get himself together.His heart is still beating frantically and he feels lightheaded when he finally breaks the silence.“I want that too, Cas. I want to touch you. Hell, I’ve been dreaming about touching you for so long, I imagined how you’d sound when you-” he cuts himself off and hears a silent laugh on the other end. “I also want to be close to you. Emotionally. I mean… I think we are already, we just…”“We just didn’t let it exceed friendship.”Dean smiles at how perfectly Cas finishes his sentences. “Yeah. But I think by having phone sex we already took the step.”They both laugh at that. It’s small and soft and intimate.“So you want to… take me as your lover?”“Damn, Cas, why do you have to make it sound so weird?”“I’m sorry, Dean, why-”“But yeah, Cas, I want to be your boyfriend, partner, lover, whatever. I wanna be with you that way.”He can practically hear the smile in Castiel’s voice and it makes his heart melt.“I’m really looking forward to being done with this case so I can come home to you.”“Yeah, me too, Cas,” Dean grins.

[ofsamwinchester]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAMMY!

Who: Sam Winchester (and others)

What: It’s Sam’s birthday.

TW: death ish? its not that bad tbh

It’s May 2nd somewhere even if I’m posting this early in my timezone.

“C’mon Sammy,” a voice whispered, soft and delicate. He didn’t want to get out of bed. It was so much nicer there than in the rest of the world, but that familiar voice encouraged him once more. “It’s time to get up. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“Five more minutes,” he muttered.

The laughter of Mary Winchester rippled through the air. “Four, and then you better be in the kitchen at five.” The sound of the door closing followed a few seconds later.

He didn’t feel like he got any more sleep, but he heard the motherly countdown that all children with mothers are familiar with. It was unfortunate that Sam never really got to experience it as a child. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six . . . Five.” 

Sam found himself rushing to get out of bed, barely throwing on a shirt before he was moving out the door, rushing through the bunker to get to the kitchen. Once he pulled his shirt on all the way, he saw them. His family.

Dean, Cas, Jack, Bobby, Claire, Jody, Donna, Alex, Garth, Rowena, Eileen. They were all there, filling the room, surrounding the table, which was covered in various pies. Some were already eaten with the candles removed.

“Dean!” Mary scolded her son.

Dean just shrugged, still shoveling his face full of pie. “Maybe he shouldn’t have taken so long then.” Mary rolled her eyes, but it was clear how much she still loved him. She loved them both.

“What’s this all for?” Sam asked, still confused as to what was going on.

Marry stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He was taller than her, but he still managed to feel small in her arms now. “Happy birthday Sammy,” she said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Happy Birthday, Sam!” everyone else cheered on. Some of them opened some beers and held them up to him before taking a drink. He hadn’t had anything like this in . . . well, had he ever had anything like this? Dean had gotten him things for his birthdays when they were younger, but this was . . . something else. It wasn’t just the two of them. It was . . . He had a family. He felt happy for once without any guilt over it.

“Sammy, you’re crying,” Mary pointed out. He hadn’t even realized it, but sure enough, tears were slipping down his face.

“Are you okay, Sam?” Jack asked, concerned. He was always so caring, so concerned for others. Sam missed him. “Sam?” Why would he miss him when he was right here. It was like there was a glitch. Static rippled through the air, right where Jack was, and for a second, it had looked like Jack’s eyes were black, scorched and gone.

“I’m fine,” Sam assured him, pursing his lips in a smile. His words felt like they echoed in the air. I’m fine. Fine. fine. At least Jack accepted the response. Why wouldn’t he be fine.

“C’mon, you better get some pie in you before your brother eats it all,” said Jody, leading him to the table. 

“Maybe he doesn’t deserve anything that good,” he heard Dean say, his voice sounding distorted and mechanical.

“What?” Sam asked, startled.

“I said, maybe you should hurry up and eat the food.” He shrugged shamelessly as he ate another piece of pie. Sam wondered if it was supposed to be his birthday or Dean’s. He didn’t mind though. At least everyone was happy. He got his pie and sat down.

Cas came up behind him. “I was told it was customary for the abomination to wear one of these.” He held a birthday hat out to him. Sam looked at him for a moment, not sure if he’d heard him right.

“Uh, yeah, let me just go to the bathroom real quick.” He got up quickly, and tried to look calm as he sped down the hallways. Dean grabbed his pie while his back was turned, but he didn’t really care. Something was wrong, and he knew he wasn’t just hearing or seeing things.

I’m fine. 

I’m fine. 

I’m fine.

“Are you though?” He turned to see a mirror, his own reflection staring back at him, but it wasn’t him. It was Lucifer. “Really, why do you even bother telling yourself that? What’s the point?”

“You’re not real,” Sam stated.

“Oh, really? Gee, I didn’t know. Better pack my bags and get out of town. You got me, Sammy. I’m not real, but this whole fantasy you cooked up? It’s less real than me. You know me. I’ve been inside you, but that? When have you ever had something like that? Did you really think that you could stop what you were doing and it would all just go away like that?” He snapped his fingers. Sam flinched. “It doesn’t work that way, bucko. You don’t get that.” Sam swallowed.

“You don’t deserve that.” Sam turned to see Dean behind him.

“No.”

“Yes. You’re a monster, Sam. Again. You did this again, and you really thought I’d be okay with that?”

“No, please. I just-” 

“Save it. Dad was right. I should’ve killed you when you went off the deep-end the first time. That’s on me.”

“No. Dean.” He just needed Dean to listen to him. He could explain. He could make it right.

Could he?

“You’re not even my brother. You got your brother killed, and you thought you could just replace him with me? You’re nothing to me.”

“Stop!” he snapped, and hit his hand on the mirror.

He woke up in a sweat, looking around like there might’ve been some remnants. of his nightmare in the room, but he was all alone. He let out a deep sigh and laid back down, squeezing his eyes shut to rid himself of even the memory of that nightmare.

He was grateful now that no one here besides Dean would likely know that it was his birthday. He didn’t feel like his birthday was something really worth celebrating now. After all, if he hadn’t been born, his mom wouldn’t have died. Hell, nearly everyone he cared about might’ve still been alive. He didn’t need a reminder of the suffering he brought to everyone. He just wanted to go back to sleep and have a non-nightmare filled dream.

“Happy Birthday, Sammy!” A voice shouted at him. His eyes snapped open to see Lucifer at the foot of his bed, smirking at him. “Didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you? I was thinking we could celebrate by getting a drink. You haven’t had one in a few days after all, which you know since you’re seeing me, but it’s okay. We always have a good time, don’t we? What are you thinking? A full demon guzzle?” Sam glared at him. “Two? Wow, I didn’t know you were that thirsty. How about some music? I’m feeling nostalgic.” The radio switched on, blasting Asia at full volume. Sam felt his chest constrict.

It was the heat of the moment!

Today was going to be a long day.

[avyssoseleison]

1.7 | Happy (Belated) Birthday, Dean! (This fic has a tiny bit of mature content.)

They spent his birthday in a ramshackle cabin by the sea. Fighting that honest-to-god siren-siren almost resulted in Dean drowning while he could still feel the white sand beneath his feet and with Castiel having to swim back to shore for a few hours, and thank the universe for some remaining angel stamina.

After that, they didn’t feel much like staying any longer in the tiny seaport, especially not while still having a perfect view of the waves stroking the beach, but they also didn’t have much of any other chance as the roads around the town were either dangerously slippery or downright snowed in. As it turned out, nobody really bothers all that much with making sure the streets leading to a port that is basically only used for transshipping and some minor fishing are accessible in the winter. Who knew. Dean, for one, didn’t. Which is why they have been here since mid-January, with no end in sight.

Not that Dean minds all that much. Apart from suffering a minor heart attack every time he thinks he sees something dark swimming in the water or hears someone on the beach do so much as whistle, let alone sing, things are actually pretty okay. Sure, the radiator was broken when arrived, there are drifts and leaks everywhere and only one bed, but yeah, things are good.

Actually... he might not mind the one bed only situation all that much, because hey, even if they fixed the radiator early on, it still gets cold at night by the sea, so huddling for warmth is always a good idea. Not in a million years would Dean have brought himself to suggest sharing the bed with Cas, though, had there been any other options. Not even after both of them almost were almost taken to their watery grave and dragged each other back to the cabin once the siren was ganked, both of them hypothermic, Cas more so than Dean, and spitting salty water. But those extenuating circumstances, coupled with the issue of only having one bed to begin with, resulted in a fully nude Cas shamelessly stripping in the middle of the room and then pressing up against an equally nude Dean in search of warmth all night long.

Even the next day, they barely made it out of bed, even without doing anything indecent --  no, Cas simply refused to let Dean leave the bed, dragged him back beneath the covers every time he so much as tried to get up, and slotted his legs between his to keep him from trying again.

All in all, Dean wouldn’t have minded so much if there hadn’t been some parts of him that did more than just not mind, though Cas either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Dean’s very natural reaction to having another naked and, honestly, rather handsome guy manhandling him. All he ever did was grunt whenever Dean attempted to put some distance between them and tell him to go back to sleep because he was still cold, and that was that.

Except that is how they’ve been spending every night ever since. In no way was Dean prepared for Cas to strip as if he couldn’t have thought of a single reason as for why not at the end of the first day when they finally managed to make it out of bed and into the only supermarket in this town to stock up on food. Cas completely ignored Dean’s embarrassed sputtering, slipped under the sheets, and stared at Dean with growing level of not being impressed the longer he just stood there, gaping.

“Dean,” he had eventually said, somewhere between annoyance and an offer, “come to bed.”

So, Dean had undressed under Cas’ watchful gaze and with trembling hands, finding himself unable not to give in, and when he finally joined Cas under the sheets, he was rewarded with a pleased sigh and those thick arms wrapping around him again.

And this is how it is has been each night now. Cas stripping, Dean following, both of them holding each other until they both fall asleep, just like guys do, absolutely normal bro behavior, nothing special to see, sir.

That is, until the night of his birthday. They have been spending the day indoors, what with the wind and snow already whipping like mad against their windows, and just lazed about. Cas with a book in his hands, Dean with a few crossword puzzles that he’d never admit to liking to anyone but Cas, who even asked for a few pages out of the blocks every now and then. Dean had pretty much forgotten what day it even is, since Sammy and him never made much of a deal out of their birthdays, not with the kind of life they’ve led, so all good, really.

Except, when Dean slides in under the sheets and turns his back to Cas, waiting for him to draw him in and, okay, maybe spoon him to sleep, Cas doesn’t. Unlike all the previous nights, there is no rustling and touching, no warmth enveloping him.

Dean just lies there for a few moments, breathing shallowly in expectation and anxiety, almost opening his mouth to ask something stupid like, “Is something wrong?”, “Why aren’t you hugging me?” or “Are you already done with me?”, but before he can, one of Cas’ ghosts over his shoulder, and then settles on it.

The warm weight of it instantly relaxes Dean so much that he only then becomes aware of how much he had tensed up, and he lets out a breath of relief.

“Dean,” Cas says, in that way that he always says his name, but with the edge of something different now, something darker yet sweeter.

“Cas,” Dean breathes right back, his eyes fixed up front, into the darkness of the room.

“It’s your birthday today,” Cas states, and he’s not wrong about that.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, half-way playful, half-way being reminded again.

“Yes,” Cas says, “and I know it is customary to give people a present for their birthday, yet I also know that you and Sam don’t. Which is why I didn't buy you a present.” He appears to think for a moment, then adds in the dry tone he always adapts when he goes for humor. “Also, I’m not certain the wind wouldn’t have swept me back into the ocean, had I gone out in this weather. And I couldn’t have left without you knowing.”

“Hey, it’s cool, man,” Dean replies, turning around now to look at Cas, though there isn’t much to see in the darkness. “You’re right; Sammy and me, we don’t really celebrate birthdays, so no sweat. No special day for me. Was nice as it was.”

Dean shrugs, rustling the covers with the motion, going for nonchalant.

Cas, though, makes a disgruntled sound.

“I agree that the day was ‘nice as it was’, yet I still want to make you a present.”

“Nah, I told you, it’s--”

“Dean,” Cas cuts in, and all of a sudden, Cas is above, around, on him. His hands braced to the side of Dean’s head, his chest sloping above Dean’s until they meet at their hips, his eyes fixed on him, glittering even in the dark.

Dean gasps, he knows he does, and any other time, he might be embarrassed about it, but he simply did not expect that. Besides, with Cas on top of him like this, he becomes once again achingly aware of their state of undress, which had up until become strangely natural, of Cas’ warm skin pressed against his, of his softly stirring cock now squeezed against Cas’.

He has to close his eyes for a second, just to keep himself from groaning or gasping once again, and Cas just hovers there above him, impossibly patient, until he opens his eyes and feels ready to face him again.

“Dean,” Cas repeats, almost a murmur now, dipping low into what could only be called vulnerability. “I was considering what kind of present I could still give you, what you would have need for. The possibilities were few yet endless at the same time, too many meaningless things and most of the meaningful ones impossible for me to gift to you.” He sighs, and Dean can feel Cas’ breath tickling his face. “In the end, I thought that this might be something you could be interested in.” He lifts one of his hands from the mattress, cradles Dean’s face with it, as gently as one would handle something as precious as a porcelain doll, and murmurs with unmistakable intention in his words, “Something you told me you need. ”

And Christ, but like this, Cas must be able to feel the effect his words have on Dean, how they fill him, make him swell with, yes, need.

“Cas,” is all Dean can croak out, because Cas got it right, Cas understood, and now he is going to give Dean what he’s been yearning for for so long, just like this, just because it’s his birthday. And yet--

“Don’t give me this only ‘cause you think that’s what I want,” Dean rushes out, desperate now, “Don’t give me this ‘cause you know it’s what I need, if you don’t.”

“Dean,” Cas says, once again, but with an eye roll now evident in his voice. Still, the hand on Dean’s face remains gentle, his thumb stroking his cheek and his index finger tilting Dean’s chin up, until his thumb sweeps over his lips, too.

And right then, as Dean’s lips instinctively first pucker then part for Cas’ thumb, Dean can feel the need growing between Cas’ thighs too, can feel that he is not unaffected by this, that he does not do what he does because he thinks he should, but because he wants to. Because he wants Dean.

So, Dean grabs for him, his fingers stroking over the skin Cas has already been presenting him with for over a week now, trying to pull him closer, and Cas gets the hint. He follows Dean’s motions, bends down until his lips are close enough to touch, to be tasted and licked, and whispers, warm and sweet, “Happy birthday, Dean.”

And finally kisses him.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Already Yours 21: Secret(s)

Story: Already Yours

Prompt 21/32: Secret(s)

Summary: Castiel doesn’t like keeping secrets, but he likes keeping his family safe. Sometimes the former must be done in service of the latter.

Words: 827

A/N: Sam and Cas friendship ftw

[Prompt List Here]

    Castiel needs a plan.

Technically he needs several, but most of them are forming in the background and they’ll all pull together once he has his main point of attack figured out. He hopes. He has pulled together far more under far worse conditions; this shouldn’t be so hard.

He just hates having to lie again.

“Is everything okay, Cas?”

Castiel lifts his head to nod at Sam. “I’m fine.”

However the younger Winchester continues to stare at him. “Is everything okay upstairs?” he asks with measured carelessness in his tone. “I haven’t seen Gabriel in a while.”

“He has been occupied, I believe, but I haven’t had time to check on him,” Castiel says. “If he needs me he knows to call for me.”

Sam nods but doesn’t relent in his focus. Castiel is running through the situation, considering what excuses would be too little or too much, when Sam asks, “Are you still stressing out about the anniversary?”

Castiel winces. Can one have a belated anniversary? He’s not going to ask that. “Sam, if gifts are exchanged…early…is it customary to give another?” This is a moot point– he has something else in his pocket he plans to give as a token– but he wonders if perhaps he is doing too much?

Sam laughs a little. “Cas. You really have to stop worrying about this so much– you look like you’ve got a life or death situation going on.”

Castiel shrugs mildly. “I have concerns.”

Sam shakes his head. “Not as much as you seem to think. If all you did was tell each other ‘happy anniversary’ I think they’d even be fine with that. Seriously Cas, it’s supposed to be a happy thing. A marker for something good in your life.”

And it is. It marks one of the best things he has. His acceptance with Sam and Dean, even after everything he has put them through; Gabriel’s return and the closer relationship that has unfurled since; and– you. His family is in danger from all angles and something must be done about it.

“I’m going to be away for a few days, at least,” Castiel says. “There’s something I must do in relation to our anniversary.”

Sam rolls his eyes but he smiles. “Do you need me to cover for you?”

“It’s not necessary; I do not believe they will ask after me.” He could use Gabriel to hide under, if they ask after him, and Gabriel is so busy he will not even notice. He hesitates to use the word ‘perfect’­– nothing ever turns out that way– but it will be enough for the hunt. He hopes.

Keeping secrets, lying by omission; none of it feels good. But it all feels necessary. As he bids Sam goodbye, he reflects on whether this is a good thing or not; whether the ends justify the means. If the means make sure you don’t end up a pile of carved flesh in the woods, well, he cannot see the downside.

Even if you yell at him for it, he will withstand, and apologize. But he can’t regret something that keeps you safe. And he can’t tell you that, either, because everything will spill out with it and this is only the marker for your first year together. He doesn’t want to scare you away with the depths of his feelings. So he will hold those close, as well, and wait for the moment he can tell you everything.

“Hey Cas?”

Castiel stops. “Yes, Sam?”

Sam puts his book down and comes to stand next to Castiel by the stairs. “The best gifts are the ones you spend time on,” he says. “You don’t necessarily have to buy anything; just spending time together is nice. Or spending time on something just for them.” Sam’s smile turns sad with nostalgia. “When I was with Jess, one time I wrote her a…love letter, I guess; just a page of what I thought about her, how she made me feel. It wasn’t even really that good, but it made her happy for days.”

Castiel thinks about that. “That’s a good idea, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam nods, his smile lightening on his face. “I guess I’ll see you in a few days, then. Be safe, Cas.”

“You do the same,” Castiel says and they share a brief embrace. As they pull apart, Castiel adds, “Perhaps Eileen might appreciate a note, herself.”

“You too?” Sam groans.

“Your interest is very apparent.” Castiel casts his gaze in the direction of your room, where you sleep peacefully. “And as someone who almost lost what they have before they had it…this life is not conducive to waiting for the right moment.”

“Yeah, I-I get that. I get it a lot.” Sam smiles ruefully. “I’ll…think about it.”

Castiel nods, because sometimes that’s as good as you can get with a Winchester. “Be well, Sam,” he says, and flies away to make sure that remains the case.