#castiel is too busy laughing his ass off

[shanastoryteller]

it would make dean fucking furious, but i actually love the idea that jack sometimes calls sam "sammy" and that sam lets him. he's the only one besides dean that doesn't get "it's sam"

jack is always watching dean, and while part of that is search for dean's approval, the rest is because it teaches him how to interpret and be loved by sam

he calls him sammy when he's scared, or worried, or even relieved (seeing sam after lucifer brought him back would definitely elicit a sammy)

dean says it and it's sammy (protected)

jack says it and it's sammy (protector)

i also think he's seen dean and sam hug each other, sees how sam scrunches himself up so dean can still get his arms over his shoulders and folds beneath his brother. and when sam hugs jack, he hugs him sort of like dean hugs him, like how jack thinks dean used to hug sam twenty years ago

being enveloped, sam hunching over to keep him tucked into him, and for a moment jack feels like nothing can get to him

(sam used to feel this way too)

[deancaspinefest]

My Turning Page

Author: Jean Pilgrim | Artist: Alexiescherryslurpy Posting on Monday March 6

Okay, so maybe dragging Sam and Dean’s otherworldly lookalikes into their world wasn’t the best idea Dean’s ever had. But it’s not like they’re gonna stay long. They’re just gonna help them out and then move their asses somewhere Dean doesn’t have to deal with the way the other Dean keeps glancing at Cas. Right? Wrong. Tweedledee and Tweedledum are here to stay for a while, and it’s annoying the hell out of Dean. Nevermind that he’s busy trying to defeat Chuck and simultaneously ignoring the feeling in his chest that bubbles up any time he sees Cas and asks himself why his best friend shot him down when he confessed his feelings to him in Purgatory. - Chuck is gone and the world is saved. The Grady twins have left the building, too, and all should be well. Except, it isn’t: Cas is dead and it’s Dean’s fault. It must be. Cas loved him, and Dean loved Cas, and it was the end of him. Dean sees little hope for himself, but the least he can do now is try and be the man Cas thought him to be. A brave man, who never stops fighting for the people he loves. A man that cares about his brother and Jack. When Jack returns, Dean finds one of Cas’ very few sentimental possessions, and with it, his will and determination to get him back. If only he could find someone to take his place and help him hide his plans from Sam and Jack…

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“I am going to help Sam load the car,” Cas suggests, then. “It was nice talking to you, Dean.” With a smile and a tip of his head, he gets up and walks past Dean, very pointedly avoiding each and every eye or body contact. Dickbag-Dean, now finished with putting on the shirt, shrugs the flannel over his shoulders, and calls after him: “Likewise, Castiel. Safe travels.” Dean makes an effort to take a few deep breaths so as not to clock the guy. They need to get going, get this show on the road and get rid of their counterparts, migrate them to a different hemisphere, if Dean gets his way. “Fridge is stocked,” Dean counts off coldly, staring at what looks like his crooked mirror reflection. “Keys are next to the door, in case you need to get out. Make it quick if you do, though. You got our numbers?” “Oh, Castiel gave me his. No worries. We’ll be good and let you know if something comes up,” the other Dean says amicably. Dean grinds his teeth, forcing the words out through pursed lips. “Good.” He grants his counterpart a quick nod, then hoists his duffel further up his shoulder and turns to leave. “Oh, and Dean?” WIth his eyes closed and his patience running thinner than the fabric of his worn down jeans, Dean turns around again and clutches the straps of his bag until they almost cut into his palm. “Yeah?” “You and Cas, you’re…” “Friends,” Dean confirms tonelessly, not liking the way the corners of the other guy’s lips tick up at that. “Best friends. Cas and I are family.” “I just wanted to make sure. I didn’t want to, you know, overstep. But alas, it seems that I can try and shoot my shot, as they say, then.” Dean barks a toneless laugh, trying to cover up the hollow feeling in his stomach. This isn’t happening. “Sorry, definitely barking up the wrong tree there, dude. Believe me. Save yourself the trouble.” He doesn’t know why he says it like that. He doesn’t know why he says it, period, other than the fact that he never, ever wants to come into one of the countless rooms in the bunker to witness… whatever was just going on between his lookalike and his best friend, again. “Hm.” Douchebag-Dean seems to consider that for a moment, his eyes trailing the staircase to the bunker’s main entrance where Cas had disappeared a mere minute ago. “Thanks for your concern, but I don’t think I will.”

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Monday March 6]

[fumikomiyasaki]

♕ for anyone? >:3 chaos cause I need a fuel to rant more of our ships.

Accidental Affection

send me ♕ for your muse to get dared to kiss me

Around a NRC party to celebrate that all of the Exams been done for the Month, many students gathered at the cafeteria having fun and just enjoying the music. Mellow and Leroy chatted in a corner of the room looking around as Leroy noticed Mellows eyes following Lynette around who took care of the snacks and beverages for the Party.

"Come on, you will never cross that bridge if you always hold back, Mellow... I care about you and your crush on her is obvious. How about you at least try to talk her up."

"She is b-busy and I don't want to disturb her w-work. "

As some students set up a small game of truth or dare on the other table, Leroy smirked and slowly went invisible much to Mellow who didn't know where he went and was in panic... after a little Leroy came back and grabbed his wrist.

"I know how to make the party funner, follow me."

"W-wait leroyyyy...."

Mellow was a bit uneasy as he suddenly sat in a round with students, worse Lynette was also in the same round looking at him with a small smirk... He quickly avoided eyes and put his knuckles on his knees.

It was a truth or dare game, many had seperate tasks and a good laugh from all this but Mellow noticed they were going easy on him.... untill one female student spoke up.

"I dare you to kiss Lynette, Mellow."

"W-w-w-w-what?"

This was the worst... not only did his face lit up red and obvious cause of the situation but everyone was staring at him... however as he suddenly felt Lynettes hands placed on his cheek his beating heart had a light stop... at least that was how it felt to him.

"If you are too shy about it then let me lead the way~"

He slowly felt her lean closer as he flinched his eyes together feeling her lips against his... it felt like his heart was beating out of his chest... like a dream come true but even if he loved this he also cursed that he had to be so obvious about it.

As she withdrew from him he still felt the heat in his face as she smiled at him.

"You are really too cute like this, Mel. I don't mind if you want another one."

"You d-don't?"

"I like you a lot so." She winked at him a little cheeky.

And this... was the moment where he fainted... truely believing this was just a dream... at least.... if it was.... it was the best thing that could happen to him.

As Deangelo visited Tetravania for trying Pamelas treats he noticed her chatting but also slightly arguing with Dorothy, one she calls her best friend but has been treating her not in the greatest way for a while.

"Like I can't believe you Pam, to just say he is my boyfriend even if he isn't... to just invite him to spend time with me and stay here, what were you thinking?"

"That he really likes you.... and that you have troubles letting people close."

"Shut up, I have many people who want me and I can handle that on my own, Sissy."

"Then why didn't you pursue a relationship yet."

"Because so many people at this school are dumbasses."

Both of them suddenly noticed Deangelo entering the room as Dorothy crossed her arms and pointed to her.

"Then why don't you prove me then, that you are okay with being honest about your feelings, Pam."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"You can't tell me you invite him that often without feeling a little bit something you virgin."

Suddenly they noticed Castiel was walking behind Deangelo too given he was at this school for another reason as well, to bully a certain red head as he showed a smug smile at the situation.

"The Blue bitch is right, you two are awfully close aside the sweets."

"You fucking moron-"

"BLUE BITCH?"

Ignoring Dorothies audible gasp and Castiel laughing his ass off Deangelo sighed walking past the chaos as Pamela nervously fumbled her fingers. Swiftly so the two could see it he pulled her close for a tongue kiss. One that very much caught her off guard and let the other two shut up for once... as Pamelas cheeks grew rosy.

"Hmm... sugar..."

"S-see... everything is fine."

"Yeah right... But fine I have better things to do, Blondie you better apoligize or-"

"What are you gonna do against an angel, sew my skirt up-"

Before Castiel could cause more trouble Deangelo dragged him out... maybe it was best to bring him where he needs to go first, Pamelas treats wouldn't run away after all... at least the first taste of it was nice... as Pamela sat back on that chair with a happy red smile. Ignoring Dorothies complains.

[milfjensenackles]

new chapter of my wip is up !!

the haunting of castiel novak

read it on ao3 | chapter 3/?

“Do you always talk like that?” Dean says while he slips his shoes off in the doorway.

“Like what?” Castiel asks, tipping his head to the side.

Dean rolls his eyes. “‘Hello, Dean’ in that deep ass voice. We just met. No ‘hey, nice to meet you?’”

“I apologize that my introduction left much to be desired. Let’s start over. My name is Castiel Novak. That was Jack. The cat’s name is Oliver,” Cas reaches his hand out, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Dean leans over to watch Jack play with the cat. A pink feather flies six feet through the air followed by a large orange blur and a thud. He couldn’t help but smile before turning back to collect Castiel’s palm in his for a perfunctory handshake. “That’s more like it. I’m Dean Winchester. Novak, huh?”

“Yes. My family is originally from Poland,” Castiel releases Dean’s hand and ushers him inside while he talks. “Can I get you anything? Some water, a beer? I appreciate you coming out here on such short notice.”

“It’s not like I had a choice,” Dean says with a smirk.

Castiel looks away sheepishly, busying himself in the kitchen with glasses to avoid Dean’s eyes. “Perhaps I took things a little too far. But you still showed up.”

“Yeah. I did.”

Dean wanders toward the living area of the house. It was small, but comfortable and well-loved. A white-tiled fireplace took center stage with photos of Castiel and Jack lining the mantle, some more recent and some from when Jack was much younger. He seemed like a happy little boy. One of the photos includes a young woman who held a baby Jack in her arms. She had long blonde hair and a pink ribbon pinning it back behind her head. Castiel’s wife?

“Ah, that’s my sister. Meg,” Dean jumps at the sudden presence of a figure right next to him.

“Does Jack have a mom?” Dean asks, still looking over the photos.

Castiel squints. “Of course he does. How else would he be here?”

Dean rolls his eyes. This was going to be a long evening. “I don’t need the full birds and bees story, dude. I was asking if she’s still in the picture.”

“Oh,” Castiel says quietly, “She passed away giving birth to Jack. Jack isn’t mine, in the biologic sense. I adopted him. His mom, Kelly, was a very good friend of mine. I have some photos of her around the house, but it’s still hard.”

Oh shit. One second, you’re messaging a stranger online about ghosts, and the next you’re learning their tragic backstory next to a crayon drawing of a dragon. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Castiel nods. “It’s okay. Jack is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, even though he came to me at a cost.”

Jack chooses that moment to wrap himself around his father’s calf and squeal something about Oliver swallowing the pink feather toy they were playing with just a minute before. Castiel rolls his eyes and picks Jack up before walking over to the cat and quickly pulling the obstruction out of his throat. “Sorry. It’s kind of chaotic around here.”

“I love chaos,” Dean says.

Castiel gives him a small smile and a wink. Dean grins back.

“So where have most of these incidents been happening, Novak?” Dean asks. He’s writing in a small notebook, trying to look more impressive and well-versed in these kinds of things than he feels right now. Without Sam at his side, he feels vulnerable. Scared, almost.

Castiel gestures widely. “Any and everywhere within these walls. The worst offender is the kitchen, but the cat has been thrown around, glasses have been smashed, and windows and doors will slam throughout the night. I just can’t take it anymore.”

“How are you sure it’s a ghost?”

Castiel looks exasperated. “Well, I tried mouse traps and calling the police, and they just laughed in my face. The mice, too.”

Dean holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, dude. Got it,” Dean taps the end of his pen against his upper lip. “Have you recently gone on a trip and taken anything weird home with you? Any history of murder? Just to cover our bases.”

“Do you really think I’d be asking for help from a stranger on the internet if I had murdered someone?” Castiel asks with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean barks out a laugh. “To be honest, with your track history, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Dean stands up and turns his back on an offended Castiel. He wanders into the kitchen, looking for any signs of disturbance. The back windows are locked tight, with a rope connecting the handles for good measure. A cabinet is open, with a small assortment of mugs sitting inside. Dean could tell it wasn’t the original number that lived there. One of the mugs had been secured to the floor of the cabinet with duct tape. It was handmade, with ‘I love my dad’ carved into the side in a child’s handwriting. Jack’s work, Dean assumes.

Dean looks outside from the kitchen window. The leaves are trying to change color with urgency, even though September had only just begun. A small playset lives in the middle of the sparse green lawn, tracks of dead grass littering the space around the slide and the swings. The combination of the mug and the backyard and the photos are almost too much for Dean, and it knocks the wind out of him.

BANG!

The backyard view immediately turns into that of a pale white kitchen ceiling. Dean can feel a hard floor beneath him, but he doesn’t know how he got there. He can hear someone saying something but doesn’t understand what it is. Novak, he thinks lazily. The last thing he’s aware of is a strong hand on his shoulder.

Dean wakes up on a couch that isn’t his own.

He jumps up, immediately on red alert.

“Hey, whoa. Take it easy.” Castiel says, coming closer to him with a concerned look on his face. He sits next to Dean and presses him back down into the pillows under his head. “You took a hard fall. I think the kitchen windows got you pretty good.”

“The kitchen windows? You mean the ones that were hog tied shut?”

Castiel nods. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Nothing stops it. At this point, I’ve just gotten really good at dodging. Jack’s short enough that most things just swipe right over him, thankfully.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes that his head is cold. He grabs at his hairline. An ice pack. Castiel must have put it on him after he knocked out.

Castiel shrugs. “You had a nice bump on your temple. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

No one’s ever taken care of him after an attack like this. Usually, he was the one stitching wounds closed and making sure Sammy was okay.

“What time is it?” Dean asks groggily.

Castiel checks his watch. “10:07 PM.”

Fuck. Ava was going to kill him. He checks his phone.

100+ new messages. The notification lights up the screen. Castiel purses his lips. “Can I give you a ride home?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, no. I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

Castiel looks at him in a way that was hard for Dean to describe. Sympathy? Concern? Dean didn’t really want to stick around to find out. He stands up and hands the ice to Castiel before reaching for his jacket and tugging it on. Suddenly, though, Jack comes shooting out from the dining room and shoves a piece of paper into Dean’s hands. It’s a drawing, colored in haphazardly with bright colors that don’t come close to staying inside the lines. It’s a drawing of himself, he realizes. He’s lying on the blue couch with his dirty blue jeans and black t-shirt and a plastic ice block on his forehead. Castiel and Jack stand over him.

Dean squats down to get on Jack’s level and pats him on the shoulder. “Did you draw this? It’s amazing.”

Jack nods vigorously. “Thank you for helping us, Mister Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I haven’t done anything yet, Jack. But I’m sure gonna try.”

He stands up and turns back to Castiel. “I’m going to go home and do some research. On this house, on the area. We’ll see if anything interesting turns up. For now, I want you to put salt around the perimeter of the house. Doorways, windowsills. Let’s see if that calms things down for a little while so we can figure this out.”

Castiel looks down at the drawing in Dean’s hands and smiles. “Jack likes you. He doesn’t like everyone.”

Dean chuckles. “He’s a good kid.”

He and Castiel make eye contact for a moment. It’s a second too long for Dean’s comfort, and he breaks it to shove his shoes back on. “Well. Thanks for fixing my head. I’ll reach out if I find anything. I’ve gotta get going or it’s my head.” Dean gestures absently to his phone.

“Significant other?” Castiel asks.

“Girlfriend, yeah.”

“Ah,” Castiel replies.

Dean stomps out the front door into the autumn night. Stars fill the sky above him. There are never any stars where he and Ava live. Too many streetlights. He’s always wanted a quiet house further away from the city, but Ava wanted to live in a luxury complex with all these boring houses that looked exactly the same. As Dean sat down in the Impala, mentally preparing himself for the rampage awaiting him the second he set foot in his home, he realizes that he feels… excited. He hasn’t felt that way in a long time, not since the last case Sam had gone on with him.

With that realization pushing him forward, he puts the car in gear and drives home.

[wormstacheangel]

happy birthday @archervale I know I'm late but here is one of our many ideas! Hope you enjoy it <3

wc: 1.3k summary: Dean gives Cas a little kiss and it breaks the angel

Dean didn’t get much sleep last night considering the bed felt too big and empty without his boyf—Cas. They’re still relatively new—like 35 days since their big reunion confession—and Cas was a busy guy. Once again helping Heaven get their shit in order along with Jack. So he didn’t have time to stay the night and be a fucking pillow, not that Dean would ask him.

He already takes too much of his time with stupid shit like movie night or a long drive. The world didn’t need Dean Winchester to save it anymore but it sure as fuck still needed Castiel.

Dean sighed, dragging his feet to the kitchen, and wondering when would it be a good time to send Cas a little message like, “Hiya. When are you gonna come down from that cloud of yours so I can give you a stupid ki–no.” Dean cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his growing hair feeling embarrassed as he stepped foot into the kitchen doorway.

“I came down early this morning.” Dean looked up at the kitchen table when he heard the familiar voice. Cas was warming his hands with a large mug of coffee, one that read ‘Not today Satan’ that Dean had bought as a joke while smiling softly at Dean. His coat was off, folded up on the seat next to him, and his sleeves were pushed back. He looked so…so nice.

“What did you want to give me?” Cas asked, eyebrow raised in question.

Everything. “I um,” Dean cleared his throat again, pulling his robe closed as he walked in. Without really thinking, his mind was a complete mess with just wanting to touch Cas, he quickly walked over and pressed a kiss to Cas’ cheek.

Feeling the brush of stubble on his lips and the scent of fresh rain wash over him, he lingered for a bit. His hands wanted to grasp at the miracle in front of him but instead, he pulled away with a quiet, “Morning, Sunshine.”

And as quick as that action was, he turned on his feet and marched over to the fridge. “Now breakfast! Gotta get that done before Eileen comes in here. You thought I was grumpy in the morning! Ha!”

He got his phone out, an excuse to ignore whatever Cas was about to say or not, and played his music loud. Space Cowboy started to fill up the room before he started to crack the eggs.

Heat rose up his cheeks and not because of the burner in front of him.

They really haven't done much in the couple category, busy and all with the whole Empty situation and then the Heaven situation. Shit, Sam even goes down to hell to help Rowena with her Hell situations. Not to mention Jack even brought back Billie from the Empty to reprise her role as Death.

So many boxes to check out and that pushes their new relationship down on the priority list.

Though it was nice. Having their relationship on the list at all.

“Morning.” Dean hears the familiar yawn of his brother behind him. “Hey, Cas.” Sam walks over to look over Dean’s shoulder. “Are those the eggs I bought?”

“You mean that nasty fake egg crap? No.” Dean pointed with the spatula to a different covered pan. “I made those separately. Not even your girlfriend will eat those.”

Sam ignored most of his words and patted his shoulder. “Thanks!”

“This vegan crap can’t be healthy for you, Sammy! Humans need meat to survive.”

“You coming out to me again?”

That little shit. “I can still kick your ass.” Dean kicked Sam’s legs while he laughed and walked away to get the plates ready.

“Morning!” Eileen walked in and Dean turned to face her, signing ‘Morning’ right back. “What’s for breakfast?”

Dean showed her the pan and the side of sausages. “We also got toast!”

“Yum!” She grinned and helped set the plates up but not before kissing Sam’s shoulder.

It was so easy and simple for them. Dean wondered if he would ever get there with, “Cas! You just gonna sit there or do you want me to get you a plate?”

They all waited for an answer but nothing. No slight of the head tilt or nod. No thumbs up. Not even a sound.

“Yo! Earth to Cas!” Dean threw a piece of bread at him, positive that he would catch it with his restored angel mojo and all, but it only hit the back of his head. Dean flinched and quickly rushed over to check on him. “Shit!” He brushed the crumbs off his boyfriend’s head and shirt. “I’m sorry, man. Thought for sure you would-Cas?”

He leaned closer to get a glimpse of Cas’ far-away stare. His mug tilted as if to take a sip but he was frozen where he sat. Like a statue frozen in time.

A little worried, Dean waved a hand in front of Cas’ face. “Cas?” He was fine just a few minutes ago. “What the hell?”

“What's wrong with him?” Sam walked over to Cas’s other side and poked his shoulder.

Dean shrugged, reaching to take the mug away but it wouldn’t even budge. He knew if he used any more strength it would shatter. “I was just talking to him. You think an angel wire got loose in his head or something.”

“Don’t think that’s how that works.” Sam then turned when Eileen tugged at his shirt, asking what’s going on. While he gave the little information he knew to Eileen, Dean sent out a prayer out to the universe.

Hey, kid. Breakfast is ready. Also, think you can come down and check on your Dad. Love ya. Bye. He still didn’t know how to end those prayers but not a second later he heard a flutter of wings and saw a big bright smile.

With a hand raised in a greeting, “Good morning!” He walked over to Cas and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh!”

“Oh? What do you mean oh?”

Jack looked back at Dean with a smile. “Dad’s fine. He was just surprised. No need to worry.” He took the seat next to Castiel and his smile got brighter when he asked, “Can I have chocolate chip waffles?”

Now Dean’s wires are loose at those words.

“Surprised? What could have surprised him enough to make him so…still?” Eileen looked between them all but all eyes fell on Dean for an explanation but he had none.

“How am I supposed to know? He was fine one second and the next he was…” Dean felt heat rise up his neck and up to his ears. “I mean…it can’t be because of-no. No!” He chuckled nervously before shaking Cas’s shoulders again. “Hey! If you’re like this over a little kiss then I’m never doing it again!”

“A kiss!” Both Sam and Eileen say at the same time with a stupid teasing grin plasterd on their faces.

He ignored them and looked back at Cas. “Are you listening? I swear not even a fucking hug.”

And with that, Cas caught Dean’s stern glare. His bright eyes, round and sad. “That is cruel.”

Relief washed over him but didn’t last long when annoyance took over. “You scared that shit out of me! Don’t do that!”

“I apologize.” Cas set his mug down. A small twinkle of a smile tugs at his lips when his hand reaches to lay on the cheek Dean kissed earlier. “I was taken by surprise by that gesture. Very…unexpected. New.”

“Yeah. Well…get used to it.” Dean didn’t meet anybody's eyes when he turned towards the stove again. “Does anybody else want waffles? If not, I won't make a lot of batter.”

Just Jack got waffles and when they were done, and it was just the two of them in the kitchen cleaning the dishes, Cas reached over to kiss Dean’s cheek. Softly. Warmly. So filled with love that it made Dean shiver but Cas ignored it as he whispered, “You already gave me more than I ever hoped for.”

[dothwrites]

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3 

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes. 

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers. 

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color. 

“Cas.” 

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice. 

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave. 

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here. 

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?” 

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy. 

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story. 

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words. 

That’s not who I am. 

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets. 

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...” 

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking. 

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.” 

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon. 

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.” 

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what. 

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?” 

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems. 

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed. 

He does make one stop, however. 

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.” 

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.” 

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...” 

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his. 

“So what happened?” 

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack. 

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.” 

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved. 

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses. 

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem. 

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle? 

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...” 

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does. 

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out. 

There’s work to be done. 

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention. 

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?” 

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human. 

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.” 

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back. 

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?” 

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.” 

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.” 

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.” 

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.” 

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing. 

---

Bobby is wrong. 

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him. 

There’s still time. 

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt. 

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow. 

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--” 

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him. 

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon. 

It’s always too soon. 

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?” 

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer. 

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.” 

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him. 

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology. 

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care. 

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier. 

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere. 

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before. 

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around. 

Dean Winchester is there. 

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world. 

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move. 

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.” 

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.” 

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm. 

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.” 

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.” 

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them. 

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.” 

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--” 

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?” 

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.” 

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.” 

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his. 

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more. 

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.” 

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them. 

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?” 

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.” 

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing. 

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest. 

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed. 

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure. 

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s. 

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.” 

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say. 

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?” 

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition. 

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought. 

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him. 

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place. 

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.” 

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles. 

“Dean,” he says. 

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo. 

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs. 

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.” 

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to. 

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?” 

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.” 

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair. 

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him. 

You are valued. You are loved. 

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies. 

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling. 

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years. 

There is so much work to do. 

But they have time. They have all the time they need. 

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

[slowpoke-fics]

Hidden Hunter

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Summary: Crowley is your best friend, has been for years and taught you a lot of what you know. However, you aren't associated with the boys.

Warnings: mention of injury and stitches, slow burn, hint at death, I could be missing some, I am not perfect please read at your own risk

A/N: I loved this fic, I hope you guys do too! Oh! And a favor I ask of you. The more I write the more I worry about warnings. If you ever see anything I write not have a warning it should, please tell me.

You pulled into your motel, harshly parking your car and storming into your room. Muttering to yourself as you slid your shirt off, door barely slamming shut, "Stupid motherfuckers couldn't just listen. Couldn't just-" you let out a guttural scream, "I tried. I tried." You shook your head, unbuttoning your pants as you heard Crowley behind you, "Hello, Mouse." You slipped your pants off, turning to look at Crowley, not missing the way his eyes studied the curves of your body. "Hey, Crowley."

Crowley took in your ragged and bloody appearance. Dried blood scattered throughout your hair, on your arms, tiny nicks and cuts over your body with a nasty gash on your torso. Crowley's eyebrows raised and he spoke as you went into the bathroom turning on the shower, "I guess they didn't take the deal?" You poked your head out of the bathroom, glaring at him, "No, they didn't captain obvious." Crowley laughed, sitting on the bed as you took a quick shower.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to get the blood out without stretching too far so you didn't irritate the gash on your stomach. You stepped out of the shower, washing all of the grime off of you made you feel a little better. "I hate hunting," you muttered to Crowley as you walked out of the bathroom, hair draped over your neck and a towel wrapped tightly around you. "Would you please get me a pair of shorts, a tank top and a pair of underwear out of my bag?" Crowley smiled at you, already on his way to your bag, "Of course, love."

You stood there looking at Crowley as he ruffled through your bag. His suit clinging to all the right spots, curling around his biceps, tight around his thighs, unfortunately his ass covered by the length of his jacket, shoes nicely completing his look.

You'd met Crowley a few years back, when he was a lowly cross roads demon. You went to make a deal, planning to exchange your soul for the ability to track supernatural creatures so you could save them. Crowley took an interest in why you wanted to do such things. Realizing that you were a hunter that wanted to stop the deaths before they happen was important to you. Stop the needless death of humans and monsters alike.

You'd become close to him, allowing him to teach you the ways of the natural witch. After about a year you had learned enough that Crowley needed to come up with some other reason to stick around. So he started to offer his help with no strings attached as he took a liking to his little mouse. The hunter who only hunted those who hunt.

Crowley handed you the clothing, politely turning around before you dropped your towel. You slid your underwear on, groaning as you did so, causing Crowley too start to turn around. He stopped himself, asking permission first, "Let me help, yeah mouse?" You giggled, covering your boobs and huffing, "Yeah okay."

Crowley turned around, helping you step into the shorts and pulling them up, he handed you the towel to properly cover yourself on his way up. What a gentleman, you thought as he went over to your bag, digging out the emergency kit. "Lay, you need stitches," Crowley pointed to bed. You grumbled, he knew you didn't like stitches, "It's not even that bad, it's fine." Crowley glared at you, "Love, if you don't stitch that it's gonna take months to heal and likely get infected."

You laughed, laying down, "I could always just use a spell." Crowley shook his head, his playfulness with his best friend suddenly gone, "We've discussed that Y/n, it's not the kind of magic you want too mess around with." You put his hand on his arm, as he wet the rag he had with alcohol, in an attempt to comfort him, "I was just kidding, I know."

Crowley started cleaning the gash, making sure that you had gotten all the debris out. You hissed at him, you could see how curious he was, but you'd made a rule that he doesn't press hard unless it's bad. "So," you croaked out as he started stitching you, "what'd you do today?" Crowley smiled at you, secretly bashing you because if you'd just listen to him and find partners it wouldn't be like this.

"Well, I saw moose and squirrel-" You lifted your head, excited, "Sam and Dean?" He nodded, "Yes the royal pains in my ass. They were having trouble tracking some witch-" You giggled, "I could've helped them instead." Crowley tries to hide his genuine concern by joking, "Oh no doll, I don't think we'll be doing that." You furrowed your brows, "I still think we'd make a good team."

"Mouse, I don't ask for much," Crowley sighed, "if you want partners, I can find plenty of hunters that are not Winchesters." Crowley put gauze over your stitches, carefully pressing tape to hold them in place. You sat up, Crowley turning around to let you slip your tank top on, "Decent," he turned back around, "what is your problem? I never like other people enough to let them join me, but when I hear about someone you say no?"

Crowley sighed, "They're dangerous people, Y/n. I've told you I don't want you near them." You stared at him, "I just don't understand, you always tell me they're dangerous and I can't go near them but nothing else!" You stood up, starting to pace. "They're-huff-" Crowley looked away from you, closing his eyes tightly as they flashed with anger, "they'll do nothing but destroy you." With that Crowley was gone. You were used to your arguments ending like that, even your conversations. He would get called away and come back when he wasn't busy and that was fine, but you were going to look into the Winchesters while you had the chance.

You pulled out a map of the United States, channeling through your pendulum Crowley had hand made for you. You smiled, looking at the chain on one end a sharp pointed crystal rested, on the there a tiny little metal mouse, identifying it as yours, the only one on the planet like it. You took a deep breath, circling the crystal over the map focusing your energy on the image of the Winchester brothers. After a few minutes of scrying and finding nothing you decided to leave it for now, starting to pack up your things you began thinking about what was so bad about the Winchester brothers. Why did Crowley want you to stay away?

You didn't really know much about them aside from the little Crowley'd told you because you didn't really associate with other hunters. At the end of the day, you hated most of them. Hunters in general were crass, and you hated that. You are a ray of sunshine trying to preserve life and most hunters see something not human and kill it. That didn't sit right with you.

You thought about the things you did know about the brothers. They had been in this life their whole life. Had lost both parents, almost ended the world a couples times, saved it just as much if not more. Only really had each other, but Crowley had mentioned an angel on their shoulder-Castiel I believe? What did you even know about him?

"I don't believe I know you?" Your entire body went cold, turning as fast as you can to aim a gun in between his eyes. "That will do little damage to me," he spoke flatly. "I beg to differ, these here special made bullets to put your ass in back in hell, so tell me? What're you doing here?" The man is staring at you, confusion in his brows, arms by the edges of his trench coat, pants and shirt tidy, but not perfect, "I am Castiel, an angel of the lord. You called to me." Before you could even think of a response, Crowley was standing next to you. Eyes holding fear, not ager, he speaks lowly, a whisper under his breath.

"What have you done little mouse?"

You lowered your gun, not sure if it was because it wouldn't do damage or because you felt safe with Crowley there. "I didn't call to anybody," you stare at Castiel, eyes boring into his as he speaks. "I beg to differ, I felt you, heard you, you seem to also need dealings with the Winchesters?" He looked to Crowley who he'd just seen not hours ago, "I am slightly concerned with Crowley being here." Crowley scoffed, "I haven't tried anything on the musketeers in years, I've been nothing but a friend and Y/n here was too curious for her own good." He growled out the end looking directly towards you, causing a rush guilt for going behind Crowleys back.

"I didn't mean to take you away from the Winchesters-" "You did not. I am a man of many abilities, helping people is one of them. At least allow me to heal you." You backed away as he stepped forward, "I am not going to hurt you." Crowley put his hand on your arm, trying to reassure you, "Well do it then Feathers, but uh-" Castiel healed you, you felt warmth, pain dissolving from your body, "can we keep her to ourselves?" Your eyes raised at Crowley, appalled by his gumption to hide you.

"Excuse me?" You jerked away from Crowley, Castiel raising his eyebrows at you. "Is that what you would like Y/n?" You looked at Crowley, his face a mix of anger and concern. "Can we? I promise I won't bother you." Castiel smiles at you, secretly reading you, "You wouldn't be a bother but I understand. I am happy to have healed you." Castiel was gone, Crowley already starting to pick your bags up. "We're gone now mouse."

He grabbed you, whisking you away. You looked around, taking in the room you were standing in. It was clearly an apartment, a nicer than you'd ever known anyone to have. You looked around, a sleek kitchen area, the bathroom door opened from the living room, the couch took up most of the living room, a nice coffee table in front of it but pressed to the wall.

"Crowley where are we?" He was glaring at you, a sour look on his face, "A safe house, I hoped we'd never have to use it." You shook your head, "Okay, but where? What about my car?" He shuffled on his feet, "In a few days when I know Castiel didn't spill the beans about you I will take you back to it." Crowley chuckled a little, but not answering as he reached out your bags for you to take. You huffed, taking your bags from him, and then he disappeared.

You walked over to the refrigerator, to your surprise it was stocked. Demons don't need to eat, you thought to yourself, a little confused and trying to figure out where you were, you moved to the window. You looked out and you couldn't have been but three stories up, but no markers as to your city or state. The bathroom was also stocked shampoo, conditioner, soap, toilet paper, toothbrush and toothpaste?

Crowley reappeared, holding the rest of your things and your gun. You took it from him, anger over your features. "Crowley, are we in someone's apartment right now? You know how I feel about how you taking over peoples lives!" Crowley scoffed at you, "You know I respect you too much to violate your beliefs like that!" You rolled your eyes, tucking your gun behind your waistband, "Then who's apartment is this?"

Crowley made his was over to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of liquor he conveniently knew where to find, "Technically yours. Like I said it's a safe house." You tapped the counter, letting him know you wanted a glass as you sat down, "Gonna have to do better than that." He poured your glass first, shrugging he started, "I pay for it, it's under a fake name, it's warded so you can't be found, do we need to get into logistics?" You downed your glass, picking up the bottle and filling up again, "You brought me here after I met Castiel, that's not exactly safe house worthy." Crowley shook his head, sipping on his own glass, "Yes it is cricket, yet it is." Your blood started to boil, you stood from your chair, seething with anger, you spit, "Crowley, if you don't stop acting like-"

"Like what? Like someone who wants to keep you alive?" You flinched at Crowleys words, waiting for him to continue, "Everyone that they're around dies, Y/n, dies. Hunter funeral, pile of ash, dies. Everyone but them; they will destroy you." You scoffed, "I'm pretty good at keeping myself alive thank you." He raises his eyebrows, smirking a bit, "Do you forget how we met mouse?" Your eyes connected with his, glaring, still seething with anger, "I was desperate not dead, there's a difference. Crowley, they can't be doing more damage than me hunting on my own. Maybe I could be a voice of reason-" Crowley slammed his glass down, grabbing the counter with both hands, "No! I don't know why you even want to know them!"

You studied Crowley, jealousy now seeping from him. Then it clicked. It clicked that you two were a bunch of shy kids. Bouncing around each other like you were fifteen for years now. Each thinking the other was uninterested, each thinking that you didn't deserve one another. Crowley rightfully so for a while, the things he did outside of you could be classified as horrendous, but your ray of sunshine had spread to him. Bringing out all of the good parts that once was Fergus Roderick MacLeod, reminding him of who he could be. You reminded him how to love, how to hold someone higher than yourself. Reminded him of what it's like to protect someone other than yourself, to need to.

"Crowley," you walked around the table and placed your hand on his, "please just tell me what's going on." Crowley didn't hesitate, he turned to you pressing his lips into yours. It took you a second to realize what was happening, and then you melted. You moved your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, his stubble tickling you. Crowley tangled his fingers in your hair, taking a deep breath as he readjusted to meet your lips, tongue skirting your bottom lip before nibbling on it. You gasped at the action, the sound taking Crowley by surprise as he continued to glide across your lips, not missing the warm blush on your face.

Crowley was first to pull away, sliding his hand out of your hair and tucking it behind your ear, resting his hand there, he whispered, "I can't lose you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips, smiling at him reassuringly, "You won't." He softened a little bit, sighing heavily before returning his lips to yours. Soft and gentle, savoring the moment as he tugged you closer to him with his arm around your waist. You pulled just an inch away, Crowleys eyes opening and making contact with yours, "Does this mean I get to meet the Winchesters?" Crowley growled at you, quickly lifting you by your thighs causing your to wrap your legs around him, "Absolutely not."

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

after the credits

to thirteen years of cas and of the greatest love story ever told...an empty rescue fic for y’all :) 2.3k,  read on ao3 here

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

After a while, Castiel gets tired of watching. He’s practically dreaming all the time, but he’s so tired.

Eternal sleep is not restful.

He can’t leave the Empty, but he manages to mold it, with his mind, into a theater. He went to one once, with Dean, and there are probably nicer theaters, like those for plays and operas, but this movie theater is right for him. If he concentrates, he can almost smell burnt, buttery popcorn and spilled soda and old carpet, and Dean right next to him, aftershave and car oil and whiskey.

Almost.

The scenes unfold in a memorable order, because they’re Cas’s own memories. At first, he tried to jump in, alter the scene, but he’s powerless. So, like clockwork, he watches. He’s saving Dean in hell. He’s being stabbed in the chest by the same man he raised. He’s asking Dean to get answers from Alastair and then almost getting the grace pressed out of him. He’s slamming his palm onto a bloody sigil. He’s--

Everything, all of his twelve years on earth, pass by, over and over and over again.

Right now, it’s an early scene, not far into the cycle. It’s not one of his favorites, because he can see the expression on his face, remembers exactly how he felt. Remembers that he he was feeling at all.

“That was a pretty awkward kiss, huh?”

Cas turns sharply at the sound of Dean’s voice. Of course, Dean does talk in this scene, before he kisses Anna. But this Dean is sitting next to him, frowning at the screen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Cas says.

“I know.”

Chances are this is just the Empty trying to mess with him. Last week a random trashcan showed up in his theater. Or maybe it was last year, or a millenia ago, or five minutes from now. Time is weird.

They keep watching in silence. On the screen, in the memory, Cas’s head jerks away from the sight of Dean and Anna kissing. The scene flips then, to a park at night, Anna right in front of Cas, no Dean in sight.

“For the first time, I feel...” Memory-Cas says.

“It gets worse,” Anna warns.

“So your first feeling….” Dean starts.

“It was something.” Cas can’t look at him. The scene on-screen changes.

Dean, to his merit, doesn’t press.

The memories progress through the year they spent trying to stop the apocalypse, the year that ended with Sam diving into the pit and Dean going off to Lisa’s. Then through Cas starting to work with Crowley, a conversation that happened right behind Dean without his knowledge.

On-screen, Cas is watching Dean rake leaves. The expression on his face is nearly mournful. After a moment, Crowley steps into view.

“Ah, Castiel. Angel of Thursday. Just not your day, is it?” Crowley says.

“What are you doing here?” Memory-Cas asks.

“I want you to help me help ourselves.”

“Speak plain.”

Crowley smirks. “I want to discuss a simple business transaction. That’s all.”

“You want to make a deal? With me? I’m an Angel, you ass. ”

The scene flips again.

“Is there a way to pause this?” Dean asks.

Cas shakes his head. “It just does this, on a loop. I can’t sleep. The Empty won’t let me.” He puts a hand on the armrest between them. “I forced the theater up, to make it better.”

“It looks a lot like that theater we went to once.”

“I know.” Cas stares at Dean for a moment, looks away.

Many of these scenes are things Dean knows of. Cas works with Crowley, gets locked in a ring of fire, feels his chest seize up as Dean looks back for a moment. Watches the Leviathans lead him to a lake. They meet again on porch steps, Cas unable to remember who he is but still able to figure out that Dean is important. Cas gets his memories back, takes on Sam’s hell trauma. They go to Purgatory, Cas stays behind. It’s like clockwork.

Until.

“I don’t remember that,” Dean says slowly, watching himself die on the screen. “You never--you’ve never killed me.”

“Yes and no.” Cas knows what’s coming next--he’s going to kill Dean thousands of times. Each one is the same, with Cas in tears as these copies, mock-ups of Dean struggle, beg and plead, tell him not to. Each time, Naomi makes him do it again.

Until, finally, he doesn’t hesitate.

And she says he’s ready.

As they watch that scene in the crypt unfold, with the real Dean at Cas’s mercy, Dean leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and propping his chin in his hands. “You lied.”

“Hm?”

“You said you didn’t know what broke the connection.” Dean twists his head to look at Cas. “But you did.”

“I did,” Cas assents.

They watch Cas ride cross-country on a bus, pulling out his phone and almost calling Dean over and over again.

“Is there a way that we can see some of my memories?” Dean asks.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”.

Dean shrugs. “Well, I am here, and you figured out how to make a friggin movie theater, so I think I can do it.”

The image on the screen shudders, coalesces, breaks into a million pieces and then reforms. Dean is standing on the edge of a lake, picking up Cas’s coat, still covered in Leviathan goo. “You dumb son of a bitch,” Memory-Dean mutters, wrapping up the coat in his arms.

The scene flickers again--the coat in those same hands, moving from car to car to car, and then being passed to Cas. “I always knew you’d come back ,” Memory-Dean says. It’s a soft scene, almost, but then it flips to Dean seizing a monster’s collar in purgatory. He’s covered in blood and grime as he shoves the monster up against a tree, practically growling, “Where’s the angel?”

Even after the monster answers, Dean guts him.

It’s a cycle. The memory blurs through sleepless nights, through Dean stepping into streams to pray, prayers Cas knows well. It pushes past Cas letting go of Dean’s arm in the portal, and here’s something else new: Dean sees Cas on the side of the road, sees him outside the window while it pours down rain, sitting bolt upright at the phantom sight of Cas’s face.

“Why are you here?” Cas finally asks. This must really be Dean, after all. The Empty wouldn’t know these things, wouldn’t be able to dream them up. They’re too good, too honest.

“To bring you home.” Dean kicks the back of the seat in front of him, leans back in his own chair.

“I can’t go home.”

“You should.” The scene on screen rapidly changes--it’s Dean as he looks now, carrying a little boy on his back. The little boy is blonde, round-faced, holding onto Dean’s neck for dear life, laughing as Dean swings around.

“Is that--” No, it can’t be.

“Yep. He’s four, you know.” Dean clears his throat. “He misses you.”

“I wish I could have gotten to say good-bye.” Cas trails off.

“Come home. Then you never have to say it.”

Cas shakes his head. On the screen, Dean is reading to Jack, Jack following the words with a chubby finger. “It would be...awkward.”

“How?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “We’re family, dude. Jack misses you, Sam misses you, and Eileen’s been hanging around, and me…” Dean clamps his mouth shut.

That’s why.

“Things aren’t going to be the same. Not after…” Cas takes a deep breath. “What I said. We won’t be able to ignore it.”

“Then we won’t.”

“Dean--”

“You don’t know?” Dean’s eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know. Okay. I, uh…” The screen turns black.

“You what?” Cas is almost afraid to know.

“I didn’t want you to see this.”

The blackness unfurls into Billie’s library, Dean standing in front of her. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation.

“What do you want me to say?” Memory-Dean asks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. ”

“Don’t you?” Billie replies.

“I couldn’t save Mom. I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.”

“Dean--” Cas starts, but Dean just looks at the floor, like he’s trying to avoid this.

“You really believe that,” Billie says. “You wanna die.”

“When was this?” Cas asks, speaking over the rest of Billie’s statement.

“It was...right before we, uh, got the call from you. That you were back.” Dean leans his head all the way up, looks at what would be the movie theater’s ceiling, if it wasn’t in the void. “I had a bad time. I…I would show it to you. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I held it together enough to wrap your body and burn it…”

“Hunter’s funeral.”

“Only kind I know how to do.” Dean swallows, audibly. “I’m doing what I can now. Having Jack to take care of, and Eileen around, too, helps. But it’s…” He finally looks at Cas again. “Please let me take you home. Please come home with me.”

Cas would do anything for Dean Winchester. He has done anything for him before. So he will grant him this, at least the illusion, because Cas knows he can’t leave the Empty. He’s trapped here for eternity.

He takes Dean’s hand.

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

There is a little boy crawling on him.

“Daddy,” the boy says, poking his face, “I know you’re awake.”

“Jack,” Dean says, from somewhere up above, “Cas is still sleeping.”

Cas blinks rapidly. “‘M not.”

“Shouldn’t’ve said that.” Dean releases Jack, and Jack fully clambers onto Cas.

“I missed you,” Jack says.

“I missed you too.” Cas holds onto him, tight. He’s so small, like he’s supposed to be. A kid. Safe.

Cas thinks he might be in Dean’s bed.

The bunker, he discovers, looks much the same. He was gone for four months, in which time Dean and Sam took care of Chuck, Jack became a kid, and Eileen became a permanent fixture. When Dean and Sam aren’t looking, she signs to Cas, “He already looks better.”

“Who, Dean?” Cas signs back.

Eileen nods. “He had a pretty bad time.”

Dean turns around then, and Eileen presses a finger to her lips.

There’s not a quiet moment for the rest of the day. Sam explains what happened--”You might be human now,” he says, and Cas replies, “I’m not tired yet.”--and Jack wants Cas to read to him and play Barbies and racecars and puppets (apparently Dean built Jack’s little puppet theater, which--).

After dinner (spaghetti and meatballs, and Dean has a Coke instead of beer, Cas notices), everyone goes off to bed, and Cas realizes he is tired, which is something to think about.

He starts to head to the room he typically stays in, but Dean seizes the top of his arm. “Nope, you’re coming with me.” Dean drags Cas down the hall towards his room.

Cas hadn’t gotten a good luck at it earlier, what with Jack climbing all over him, but he sees it now. Dean’s bed unmade, scraps of random paper littered across the dresser, a picture Cas recognizes because he and Dean are wearing cowboy hats, and now he knows how Dean was really doing right before that case in Dodge City--

There’s also a dent in the wall. That’s new.

Dean follows Cas’s gaze. “I chucked a whiskey bottle at it. Sam took the rest of my stash the next day.” Dean steps over, brushing the drywall’s cracks with his fingers. “I didn’t fix it up so I wouldn’t forget.”

I couldn’t save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps trying to fix it, but I just keep dragging him down. So I’m not going to beg. Okay, if it’s my time, it’s my time.

“Dean,” Cas says, “Tell me in words.”

“What?” Dean turns away from the wall. “Tell you what?”

“You know.”

Dean swallows, licks his lips. “I’d say don’t ever do that again on the whole dying thing, but I said that to you once and you didn’t listen. And maybe if I say it the right way now, you’ll stay, but…” Dean slumps, sits on the bed. “You can’t leave again.”

Cas touches the wall himself before sitting next to Dean on the bed. “I’m not going to.” He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch Dean.

Dean touches him instead, leaning into Cas, finding one of Cas’s hands, holding it tight. He’s crying, Cas realizes. “I love you,” Dean says into their joined hands, then his chest wracks with a sob. “I was always so sure that if--” another sob, “If I said it, you’d leave. Get taken away from me.”

“I’m not going to leave,” Cas repeats.

He isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but Dean finally straightens up, lets go of Cas’s hand, wipes his eyes with the back of his own. “Pajamas,” Dean says, standing and crossing to the dresser. “We gotta get you some of your own, but…” He digs a pair of sweats out of the drawer and tosses them to Cas. “These’ll do for tonight.”

Cas doesn’t ask if he can stay. Dean doesn’t ask him to leave.

With the lights out, it’s pitch black, almost as inky as the Empty, but Cas can hear Dean breathing, so close to him. The bed is almost too small for both of them, so they’re nearly chest-to-chest. Hardly ever have they been this close. Never did Cas dare to dream it.

In the dark, under the covers, the world outside of this room, Dean kisses him. It’s flat, soft, a brush of lips, the barest ghost, but it’s enough. More than enough.

Cas is home.

[super-marvel-dc]

Imagine Wade Wilson and Y/N running into team free will + Bobby and crowley

➳ I'm so sorry this took forever to write. I've been tired lately and super busy with stuff at home! @whatrambles ➳

Warning: language, because it's Wade. And probably a d!ck joke.

Y/N: Wade, are you sure this is the right turn? We've been driving for hours.

Wade: Pfft! Of course I'm not sure! How long have you known me?

Y/N: *Sighs* That's what I thought.

Y/N: *See's sign that says welcome to Kansas* Uh, Wade?

Wade: Yeah?

Y/N: Why are we in Kansas? I told you you missed the turn! We were supposed to be going to Virginia!

Wade: Huh. Well shit! Will ya look at that! *Laughs*

Y/N: *Sighs annoyed* Next time you're taking that metal dude that you broke your hand on his dick.

Wade: Ok, firstly, we don't need to talk about that. And secondly, just go to sleep I'll wake you when I find someplace to stop.

*A few hours later*

Wade: *Shakes Y/N* Rise and shine chicken shit!

Y/N: Why can't you ever wake me up normally!?

Wade: Where's the fun in that!

Y/N: Where are we anyway?

Wade: Still in Kansas Toto.

Y/N: Where in Kansas?

Wade: Some places called Lawrence, And we're out of gas so I stopped at a gas station.

Y/N: Let me guess you didn't bring much money?

Wade: *Smiles innocently*

Y/N: I will go pay. Again *gets out of the car and goes into the store*

*Meanwhile, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Cas and Crowley stop at the same gas station*

Sam: I gotta run to the bathroom.

Dean: Yeah, didn't need to know that, Sammy!

Dean: Welp, I'm gonna go stock up on candy! *Giggles like a child*

Crowley: Idjit.

Bobby: *Smacks Crowley upside the head* Only I get to call him that.

Cas: Is anyone supposed to get the gas?

Bobby: Looks like I'll be pumping it *rolls eyes*

Cas, to Crowley: Do you think the bee's still miss me as their queen?

Crowley: *Sighs* Yes.

Cas: I should visit them again just to make them happy *smiles adorably*

Y/N, leaving the store: *See's a guy with his arms full of candy and holds the door for him*

Dean: *muffled thank you*

Sam: Thanks.

Y/N: No problem!

*Everyone walks to their vehicle*

Y/N: Uh, Wade, You know the tires are flat?

Wade: *Gasps dramatically* Oh shit balls! They're flatter then my ass.

Y/N: Actually you have a nice ass but that's besides the point.

Bobby: *Hears someone say balls and looks over* Hey, you two ok?

Y/N, to Bobby: Uh, kinda. This idiot has been driving for hours without checking the tire pressure.

Wade: Hey! That's Mr. Idiot to you.

Y/N, to Bobby: Do you know anywhere we can get the tires done?

Bobby: I have a shop not too far down from here, I can help you there.

Y/N: Thank you! But, um, where would we sit?

*A few moments later. Y/N is in between Cas and Crowley while Wade sits on Y/N's lap, sleeping*

Y/N: You should really lay off the extra fries next time!

Wade: *Snores loudly*

Crowley: Would you like me to put him on the roof?

Y/N: I would say yes but that would be too mean of me.

Cas: I'm glad you chose the right thing to do *smiles*

Y/N: You're cute. I like this one.

Cas: Well thank you kind human.

Y/N: So, uh, what's with you guys?

Cas: We're monster hunters. I'm an angel of the lord and that's a demon *Points to Crowley*

Y/N: Ok.

Dean: That's it? You believe us just like that?

Y/N: I'm a superhero that fights alongside This idiot *looks at Wade*. I've fought aliens, Gods, humans, etc. I've even fought this guy and Thor for a Pop-Tart, so none of this surprises me.

Sam: I knew you looked familiar! I've seen you on the news, you're (your superhero name), right?

Y/N: At least someone recognized me.

Wade: *Wakes up* Oh please, he's just saying that because he likes you *goes back to sleep*

Sam: *Blushes* I- I, what? No!

Dean: Ohhh, Sammy has a crush!

Sam: No I don't!

Dean: Yes you do!

Sam: No-

Bobby, sitting between Sam and Dean: *Smacks them both on the back of the head* What are yous five!?

Sam, and Dean: Sorry Bobby.

Bobby: Just focus on the road, boys. Whispers* Idjits.

*Hours later, The car tires are taken care of*

Bobby: Well, there ya go. All fixed up.

Y/N: Thank you. I don't know how to repay you, um?

Bobby: The names Bobby.

Y/N: Bobby. I'm Y/N, that idiot over there is Wade.

Crowley: I'm Crowley, the big one over there is named moose, the other tall one is named squirrel and the other one is named baby in a trench coat.

Bobby: *Smacks Crowley upside the head* The tall one over there is Sam, the one next to him is his brother Dean and the one balancing a pencil on his upper lip is Castiel. Cas for short.

Y/N: Well it was nice meeting you all. Thank you again for your kindness.

Bobby: No problem. Here *hands Y/N a card with Bobby's name and phone number on it* call me if you ever need help, or if you're even in the neighborhood again, stop by.

Y/N: Will do! Thank you again but I have to get going now.

Y/N, to Wade: Come on dumb ass!

Wade: *Slides down a car* Coming!

Y/N: Bye guys! It was nice meeting you all *winks at Cas*

Cas: *Waves at Y/N*

*Wade and Y/N leave*

Cas: I'm gonna miss Y/N.

Sam: Me too.

Crowley: Aw, don't worry you two, they'll come back.

Sam: And how would you know that?

Crowley: Because I made the Wilson guy a deal *smirks*

Dean: You dumbass. You do realize he can't die right?

Crowley: *Stops smirking* Balls!

[hoebii]

To the moon

Pairing : JJK x Reader , PJM x Reader

Genre : Angst, fluff, college!Au

Rating : 18+

Warning : Swearing, major character death (disease), symptoms of terminal disease, talking about death, one sided love, pining 

Wc : 3.3k

A/N : Thank you @chemicalpink for being my amazing beta who helped making this fic much more than a hot mess. A huge thank you to @taegularities for making me this BEAUTIFUL banner!! I love this banner so so so much~ and @voiceswithoutlips for letting me use her name in the fic, ilysm <3 I had the idea for this fic for a while and this might be the favourite fic from what I’ve written so far so I really hope it’s good. As usual, hope you guys enjoy this one and feed back is always appreciated~

-------

Jimin could only watch from afar as Jungkook and you danced around within the crowd of people. Usually he could be found in the middle, Jimin was known to be the life of the party after all. But, he couldn’t seem to enjoy himself, not while being sober anyway. 

Downing the drink in his hand, he couldn’t help but wince a bit at the burning sensation as the liquid flowed down his throat. Slapping himself softly a few times he spoke to no one in particular, “Come on, Jimin, you got this. You’ve watched them love each other for years now, what’s one more night?”

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he pushed off the wall he was leaning against. He needed more alcohol if he wanted to survive the night without another heartbreak. Flinging the cup away nonchalantly, he strode towards the kitchen to grab another one. 

Reaching the counter, he grabbed the strongest alcohol he could find and gulped down half the bottle at one go. Would he regret it in the morning? Most definitely. But, did he care now? Not a single bit. 

“Oof, what’s got you drinking your life away?” he heard none other than Jungkook ask, seemingly appearing out of thin air beside him.

Choking on his drink, Jimin hit his chest as he placed the bottle down. Glaring at his smiling best friend, he grumbled, “Don’t scare me like that! I almost had a cardiac arrest, my good fellow.”

“My good fellow? Since when am I a ‘good fellow’?”

“You’re right. You almost gave me a heart attack, assbutt.”

Jungkook snorted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed two cups out of the stack, “Okay, Castiel. No need to get your panties in a twist now.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m wearing anything underneath.”

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, he bumped his shoulder with Jimin’s, “How sexy of you.”

Jimin shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he raised the bottle to his lips once again, “Very sexy of me indeed.”

“Alright alright. Stop moping about and drinking your life away and come join us! Y/N was asking where you were,” Jungkook revealed, “we need our third dumbass for the trio to be complete!”

Jimin slumped a little at the mention of you, before straightening up with his trademark flirtatious smirk. Thankful that the boy beside him didn’t notice - or if he did then didn’t comment -, “Aw, is this your way of inviting me to a threesome? Cause I’m in just so you know.” 

Head thrown back in laughter, Jungkook’s shoulders shook, “Yeah dude, we’re gonna have such a sexy time fucking in a frat house.”

“Bet.”

With that, Jimin took one last swig from the bottle before starting towards the main room, “Time to get this party started.”

-------

Jimin woke up to a pounding head with a start, covering his eyes with a hand in a futile attempt to block out the sunlight, he groaned, “Why’d I drink so much last night. Fuck you past Jimin.”

Moving to get out of the bed, he stopped dead in his tracks when he felt something, or someone, wrapping their hand around his torso. Looking down, his eyes widened like saucers as he recognised none other than Kas cuddling up to his bare chest. 

Scrambling to move away, Jimin fell off the bed with a squeak, successfully dragging the bed covers with him. 

Jerking awake, Kas groaned about her lost sleep, looking over the side of the bed to the flabbergasted man on the ground.

“If I knew this was how you started the morning, I’d never say yes to sleeping with you,” she remarked in a gruff tone.

“You- I- We-” Jimin sputtered from his spot on the ground.

“You, I, We, yeah we fucked last night,” Kas said offhandedly, rolling back to burrow into her pillow to fall asleep once more.

Clambering up, Jimin looked around the room he was in, noting that it was indeed, not his - though it was a room he wasn’t a stranger to either -. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that Jimin was, put in simple words; a fuck boy. He had slept with a majority of the uni population by now. So it was safe to say Kas’s room was nothing new to him - thanks to his previous rendezvous with her. 

Though it was surprising that he was there at that moment, for he had stopped sleeping around as soon as he realised his feelings for you. Now, most people might do the opposite and excuse their actions with ‘I’m trying to get over them’ but Jimin couldn’t bring himself to do that. He didn’t find anyone else even remotely interesting enough to spend a night with besides you.

“Kas this-” Jimin started but the brunette was faster, waving her arm dismissively as she spoke, “It means nothing, I know. You’re too in love with your best friend, blah blah blah.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kas huffed out a laugh, rolling over to face him from the bed, “Why’re you sorry? It’s not like we have feelings for each other.” She continued as she rolled her eyes and smirked playfully, “besides, you’re not my type anyway. I’m more into guys like Namjoon.”

Body sagging in relief, Jimin could only chuckle along as he started gathering his clothes, “You know, I could always give you his number?”

“Then what? I call him and say ‘Hey, I got your number from Jimin after a one night stand. Let’s go on a date.’?”

“I mean, technically you could.”

A moment of silence passed as the two delved into a staring contest of sorts.

“Okay, so I’m gonna go now,” Jimin drawled out, getting dressed as he inched towards the exit, “I’ll text you hyung’s number later, by the way. Do whatever you wish to with that.”

“You’re such a shady fucker, Park,” Kas said jokingly, “how you befriended someone like Namjoon is beyond me.”

With a laugh he left, “See you around, Kas.”

-------

Jimin unlocked the front door of his apartment, not caring about the noise as he was certain that his roommate was out by now.

“Welcome back, man-whore,” Jungkook greeted from his spot on the couch, eyes glued to the TV screen in front of him. 

Jimin’s body tensed instinctively, eyes widening in shock as he looked at his roommate playing video games, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“Yeah but what are you doing here now?”

“Playing video games.”

Jimin sighed exasperated, “Aren’t you usually with Y/N at this time?”

Jungkook mimicked the elder’s sigh to mock the older, “Yeah but she’s busy today.”

Processing the information, Jimin nodded his head, “I’m gonna go freshen up.”

“Alright.”

-------

Steam escaped the bathroom as Jimin stepped out, drying his hair with a towel as he walked to his room. Just as he entered, he heard his phone ringing. Looking around the place, he spotted his vibrating phone at the edge of the bed where he had thrown it before going into the shower.

Grabbing the phone, he picked up the call without checking the ID, ���Can you please call back? I’m on the other line with my proctologist and he’s trying to explain to me why I have a perfect ass.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

“Ah Jin-hyung! How are you?” 

“None of that. First tell me what the fuck you just said.”

Jimin snickered, moving to sit on the bed, “Don’t worry about it. I usually start calls with the weirdest thing I can think of so if it’s a scam call, they leave me alone.”

“You know,” Jin started, “if you used even half the brain power you use on shit like this while studying, you’d be one of the smartest students in your university.”

“Where’s the fun in that though?” Jimin whined, falling back to lie down, “besides, I’m already one of the top students in our batch.”

“Overconfidence will take you nowhere Park Jimin,” Jin stated.

“Lies. You’re a world renowned model, are you not?” 

“Aish, you’re such a brat.”

Giggling, Jimin switched his phone from one ear to the other, “Only for you. Now tell me how you’ve been! It’s been ages since we last spoke.”

-------

“Fuck! Taehyung focus!” Jungkook shouted into his mic as he killed another enemy, rushing to his friend’s dying avatar and quickly reviving him.

“Sorry, I was drinking some water real quick,” came Taehyung’s reply, “I thought that spot was safe for a quick sip.”

“You were literally hiding in a bush in an open field,” Jungkook deadpanned, throwing a grenade at the building he knew the enemy squad was hiding. 

“Ooh nice one,” Taehyung said as the game announced that he had killed two players with the grenade. 

“Taehyung-ah, only two more players left. If we lose then I’m gonna end you.”

-------

You hissed in pain as another rose thorn pricked one of your fingers, “I hate this so much.”

“Oh cheer up, Y/N. Gardening will never be fun if you’re such a grump!” your grandfather announced, plucking another rose and placing it in his basket.

“I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t love you so much, grandpa.”

“I love you too, bubbles. Let’s go to that patch now! Be careful though, those have more thorns,” your grandfather beamed like a little kid on Christmas morning as he moved towards the white rose patch.

You could only groan as you dragged your feet to follow him, “Great, more thorns. Yay.”

-------

“Alright, five minutes break for getting water and shit,” Jungkook announced before taking his headphones off. 

He stood up and stretched, feeling his joints crack as he did so. Looking at the clock, he realised that he had been playing for a few hours now. 

“Damn I went so long without moving? No wonder I’m so thirsty.”

Jungkook rolled his neck, hearing some more bones cracking as he walked towards the kitchen to grab some quick snacks. Walking by Jimin’s room, he heard the older man talking to someone.

He was about to move on, having no interest in eavesdropping, when he thought he heard your name. Ignoring his brain that urged him not to listen, he moved closer to the closed door, trying to hear what was being said.

“I don’t know hyung…” he heard Jimin say, “you know how I feel about Y/N. I don’t think I can go on a date with someone else.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he listened. There was a pause, no doubt the person on the other line speaking before he heard Jimin speak again.

“I know I have to get over her, hyung. It’s just,” Jimin sighed, “it feels unfair for the other person, you know? Going on a date with them while I’m in love with Y/N and all.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, he barely held a gasp in as he heard Jimin. He knew that Jimin used to have feelings for you when they were younger so he made sure to ask him before pursuing a relationship with you when he caught feelings for you too. He clearly remembered Jimin telling him that he no longer had feelings for you when Jungkook had confided to him about his growing affections for you. 

Jungkook moved away from the door, shaking his head as he realised that the other man had lied back then. He had prioritised Jungkook over himself. Typical Jimin, he thought.

Not wanting to barge in on Jimin mid call, Jungkook decided that he would speak to him about it later on. With that noted in his mind, he continued his journey to the kitchen to get some snacks. 

-------

Time flew by, days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. Jungkook ended up never speaking to Jimin about his conversation, too swept up with university life and finals that came banging on the door. 

It was during that time when Jungkook’s health started deteriorating. It started with him feeling nauseous even though he didn’t do or have anything that might have caused it, then came his loss of appetite. 

Every time he would brush away your and Jimin’s concerned gaze, saying it was just him overexerting himself with all his extracurricular activities and studies. What worried you the most was when he started to drastically lose weight. The once muscular and energetic boy who loved playing outdoor games slowly turned into a sickly and frail boy who no longer had enough energy to move much without getting exhausted. 

Jimin and you tried time and time again to get him to see a doctor and he time and time again waved away your concerns, always dismissing his decline in health with some sort of excuse. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when one day he started to complain about severe back pain and difficulty breathing. You had called Jimin and the two of you rushed to the hospital with the barely conscious boy.

------- 

It was a day like any other, Jimin woke up, got dressed, made some food for himself and his roommate. Checking on Jungkook in the other room as soon as he was done. 

Holding the tray of food in one hand, he knocked on the open door to announce his presence, “Hey Kook. Got your breakfast, we’re having eggs and bacon today!”

Cracking one eye open, the younger man could only give a weak smile, “Morning, hyung.”

Moving to place the tray on the bedside table, Jimin helped him sit up - placing pillows behind him against the headboard so he could lean back and be comfortable as he ate.

“Where’s Y/N?” Jimin asked as he sat beside the bed, grabbing the food and starting to slowly feed the other. You decided to move in with them after Jungkook got diagnosed with the last stage of pancreatic cancer last year.

Chewing on the egg, Jungkook struggled to swallow before answering, “She went to the department store to grab some stuff.”

Nodding, Jimin fed him another bite, making sure that it was small enough for him to swallow without much struggle. The two continued in comfortable silence, only the scraping of the utensils against the plate and the distant chirping of birds from outside could be heard inside the room. 

It was a beautiful day, so why did it feel as if something was wrong? Jimin could only wonder, his eyebrows furrowed in thought before he shook his head to get rid of the negative thoughts. 

After making sure that Jungkook finished the whole meal and drank enough water, he placed the tray back on the bedside table. Jimin knew that the younger would want to read something to pass the time so he got up to grab a book from his shelf, eyes scanning all the spines before finally picking one he thought the other would enjoy.

Turning, he walked back towards Jungkook and handed him the book, moving to take the tray so he could clean up. 

Before he could leave however, the younger man called his name. Turning to face him, Jimin raised an eyebrow in question, “What’s up?”

“I forgot to talk to you back then but,” Jungkook started, a coughing fit making him pause midway, “I heard you on the phone that day last year. The day after the party where you went home with Kas noona?”

Jimin’s posture straightened, his body tensing as he recalled that day. The only one he spoke to on call, as far as he could remember was Jin. 

Clearing his throat, Jimin walked back to the bed, placing the tray back on the bedside table as he sat by him, “Oh? What about it?”

“I was walking by to grab some snacks when I heard you confessing your feelings for Y/N, hyung.”

It was like someone had just punched Jimin in the throat, a gasp leaving his plump lips as his eyes widened. 

“Kook, I-”

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook smiled softly, “I know you wouldn’t ever try anything. I trust you.”

Jimin didn’t know what to say, opting to grab one of his hands and softly running his thumb over it, “Kook I’m trying to get over her, I swear I am. It’s just a little difficult when you’ve loved someone for years.”

Chuckling, Jungkook placed his other hand on top of Jimin’s, “It’s fine, I don’t blame you. She’s an amazing girl, hyung. Anyone would fall for her.”

The two share a silent moment, though it was a comfortable one. None of them felt the need to speak, just enjoying the little peaceful moment they were sharing.

Jimin felt the grip on his hand tightening, the other’s face turning into one that showed discomfort, “Hyung, I don’t feel so good.”

“What are you talking about? Let me call the ambulance!” Jimin exclaimed frantically, freeing his hand from the younger’s, rushing to go grab his phone from the other room. 

Right as he was about to get up though, a hand grabbed a hold of his wrist. Halting him in his steps.

“Clam down, will you? I don’t want the last thing I see before dying is you panicking like a headless chicken.”

Swallowing back tears harshly, Jimin’s eyebrows creased in concern, “What are you talking about? How are you joking in a moment like this!”

Shaking his head, Jungkook smiled again, voice strained with the effort of him speaking through the pain and fatigue he felt, “No listen, it’s fine. Just make sure to take care of Y/N alright? She might act all tough but she’s as fragile as a flower.”

“Jungkook, please. Let me go get my phone so I can take you to the hospital,” Jimin begged, voice trembling as his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

Ignoring his pleads, Jungkook continued with a laugh, “We always joked about how one day in the future we’d go to the moon together like in those movies. Guess that won’t be happening in this life, huh?” 

“Fuck Kook, you can! Just let me get the damn phone!” Jimin almost screamed in frustration, rapidly blinking back his tears as his hands shook.

Meeting his eyes, Jungkook only continued smiling, a peaceful look overtaking his feature, “Take her to the moon for me, alright?”

It was getting harder to keep his eyes open, but this time he didn’t fight the numbness that took over him. In that moment Jungkook truly felt at peace, knowing that the two of the people he cared so much for would be alright. That they had each other when he wouldn’t be there. 

------- 

That was what you walked in on. The sight of your boyfriend lying on his bed, looking more at peace then you had seen him in the past year. You could almost smile at the seemingly happy moment but the sobbing man beside him indicated something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“What’s going on? Why’re you crying Chimmy?” You asked cautiously, still standing at the door.

Jimin’s head snapped up, his blood shot tearful eyes locking with yours, “He’s gone.”

The grocery bags that you were holding a moment ago were on the ground, the sound of glass breaking heard from inside. “What do you mean he’s gone?” You asked, lips quivering as your voice trembled.

Getting up from his seat, Jimin walked towards you, pulling you into a crushing hug as you started weeping, “You’re lying! He can’t be gone, he can’t leave me!”

Jimin could only hold you tighter, caressing the back of your head as he shushed you gently, whispering an endless string of apologies even though he couldn’t stop crying himself.  

“Please tell me this is some sort of a sick prank you two are pulling on me. Please tell me you’re joking and he’s alright,” you begged, weakly grabbing the collar of his shirt and tugging at it in desperation. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, kissing you on top of your head, “Let it out, I’m here for you, moonlight. Just like I promised.”

[liron-ao3]

It's not that Dean doesn't like Castiel. It is more of an I-swear-on-my-mother's-grave-I'll-kill-him kinda relationship. Because the thing is, Castiel set up Dean's little brother Sam and his stepsister Rowena and it isn't that Dean could say it out loud, but he is worried. To say the least.

Rowena has a power over Sam that makes Dean's stomach flip. She conjures sappy smiles on Sam's face and makes him follow her like a love-drunk puppy. She's a witch, Dean is convinced, but he tries hard not to mention that in Sammy's orbit. He heard the whole that's-a-misogynistic-term speech when Sam was dating that Ruby chick and Dean knows that his brother would only cling closer to the Scot if he knew that Dean thinks that his fiancée is straight from hell.

So Dean grits his teeth, swallows his tongue, and plays nice around her, even going as far as agreeing to be his brother's best man. He will still be there when Sam comes running with his heart broken and with his tail between his legs.

Castiel, on the other hand? That man he can hate in abundance. Not that he has ever met him, but honestly, he has to be Lucifer himself if he thinks their siblings to be a good match.

Dean can picture him vividly—a leer on his face, sweet-talking people into feeling safe and then smiting them with the snap of his fingers. That man has to be evil incarnate and Dean won't pussyfoot around him. No way!

***

"Play nice," Bobby grumbles when they enter the venue for the rehearsal dinner.

"I am nice," Dean hisses back.

"Sure you are," his surrogate father says and makes a beeline for Ellen and Jo on the other side of the room.

Dean shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and scans the room for the man he is sure he will recognise immediately. But no one really sticks out from the crowd that is well-dressed and mostly speaking in different kinds of British accents. Family of the bride, obviously.

Dean feels a little underdressed until he spots a man in an ill-fitting suit, draped into a trenchcoat. He is standing next to a redheaded, slim woman, who Dean would probably try to get on the backseat of his Impala if he wasn't set on finding that Castiel guy, sweet talk him today and wreck him tomorrow. Unless Sam does the wise thing and cancels the wedding, which seems less and less likely by the minute. Rowena's spell seems to become stronger day by day. Dean hardly recognises his ever-worrying, self-loathing brother anymore, with all the grinning that goes on on his face.

Maybe Dean is an asshole, but he has pulled Sam from the edge too many times to count. This is too good to be true. Happiness doesn't find a Winchester. Not in his experience.

Dean walks to the other side from where the redhead smiled over to him. Maybe she can point him to the object of his hate. She tilts her head to the side when he comes closer.

"You must be Dean," she says, stretching out her hand. Dean is taken aback by her knowledge.

"How did you…?"

She shrugs. "I know nearly everyone in this room. And the only two men Sam ever mentioned were his brother and Bobby who I assume is the fella over there."

Dean looks in the direction she is nodding to. "Yeah. Sam always had more female friends."

"I think that's what Rowena likes about him. He's sensible."

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I bet she likes that he's soft for her."

"He makes her very happy," the man says and his voice does things to Dean's insides he doesn't want to nurse right now. He needs to focus on his anger. Arousal isn't helpful.

"If you say so," Dean grunts.

Anna furrows her brow. "Are you okay, Dean?" she asks concerned.

"Yeah, just not really convinced about this whole wedding business. Don't you think it's too fast?"

The man tilts his head to the side and Dean starts seeing the family resemblance. "I think that they complement each other very well. I would have expected Sam's best man to see that, too."

Dean can't really argue with that. "I don't know her well enough to judge. I just know that my brother is a different person now."

"And you don't like that?" the woman asks. Hell, Dean doesn't even know their names and spills all the beans, probably making an ass of himself.

"He's my brother. I know him better than anyone and this—" He gestures in the engaged couple's direction. "This isn't the man I raised."

Two pairs of eyes move to the tall men and back to Dean.

"You mean a happy man?" the woman asks.

"No. I mean…" Dean should have kept his mouth shut. They don't know Sam, his dark thoughts, the forced smiles, the brave face. Dean knows it all or at least well enough to know that the chuckling man on the other side of the room is a stranger to him. Okay, maybe Dean is a bit overdramatic. He knows Sam laughing, pulling pranks. But life had been shitty to both of them and the only people they could always rely on were the two of them.

Yes, their circles have widened over time, with Jody and the girls, Charlie and Dorothy. Still, happiness isn't really part of their lives. They might get glimpses of it, but…

"You mean what? That our sister isn't good enough for your big shot lawyer brother?" the man asks.

Dean freezes. He sometimes forgets that Sam isn't little Sammy anymore. That he's one step away from leaving his old life behind, and with it his big brother, probably.

Dean scans the people in the room, mainly the bride's family and he swallows hard. Yes, he's the odd one out. He only owns a single suit, so he couldn't wear it tonight. Is it that? Is he jealous? Or anxious to lose Sam?

He looks back at the bride and groom. Sam presses a kiss into Rowena's hair. From afar, they are a cute couple with the difference in height and the unconventional age gap.

Dean bites the inside of his cheek and tries to unclench his fists. It isn't working.

"She's way out of his league," he hears himself say, not knowing where this is even coming from.

"That's what you said, Anna, the first time you met Sam," the man chuckles.

Anna? Oh, that's the future sister-in-law Sam raved about and Dean thinks he wants to set him up with. Well, that probably flew out of the window a minute ago.

"I didn't, Castiel. I said I was surprised that she went for someone younger. That's all."

Dean's eyes shoot up. That's the man? The man, who he built up as the bogeyman who would get familiar with his fist? A fucking baby in a trenchcoat?

The whole house of cards that Dean has built up over weeks is threatening to collapse. Dean's throat tightens and he pops a button on his polo shirt, but to no avail. He meets Castiel's eyes for a moment, the other man squinting at him as if he could look deep into his soul.

"Are you okay, Dean?" he asks and sounds concerned.

"Yeah. Just need some air," Dean all but spits and heads for the door.

He props himself up on the roof terrace's balustrade and tries to sort through all his contradicting feelings. He hates it. It's all him. His fear to be left behind, for the only constant in his life to leave, like everybody else who has ever meant something to him. He's jealous and the realisation hits him hard.

Yes, he doesn't know Rowena, but Sam does. Well enough to want to marry her. Sam, who thought he was too toxic for a real relationship. Dean always told him that this was bullshit. And now that his little brother is finally listening, Dean acts like a jaundiced ex? Fuck!

"There you are," a too-familiar voice comes from behind. "I thought you left me hanging, man."

Dean chuckles. "I have to lead the bride to the altar, right?" He ruffles Sam's hair. His brother glares at him, but without heat.

"Wanna come in? I'd like to introduce you to Rowena's best man."

"Who's that?"

"Castiel."

Dean's eyes sink to the floor. Of course, he is. "Already met him."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you already snubbed him."

"Nah. I wouldn't embarrass you in front of your new family." It's enough that Dean embarrassed himself.

"Most of them are kind people," Sam says carefully. "And after tomorrow, Rowena is your family, too."

Dean works his jaw. It's a bit difficult to look at Sam, now that he realised that he's never given his fiancée a real chance.

"You'll be here in California, and I'll be back in Kansas. We'll be lucky if we see each other on Christmas."

Sam squeezes his shoulder. "You could move here, Dean."

The older brother shakes his head. "I don't belong here, Sammy." Another squeeze. "And I can't afford to take off so much to drive over." And soon you'll be too busy to fly back to where everything feels small and like past, he adds in his head. He puts on a smile nonetheless.

"Samuel?" Rowena calls from the entrance. "Dinner starts in five."

Sam smiles over to his future bride. "I just need a minute, mo ghràdh."

"Mo what?"

"It's Scottish Gaelic for 'my love'."

Dean raises an eyebrow and chuckles. "You really got it bad, huh?"

"I wouldn't marry her if I didn't."

Dean pats his back. "I'm happy for you man." He's surprised that he means it.

***

Dinner goes fine and Dean has a nice conversation with Anna, who is seated next to him. Luckily, she's not of the resentful kind. Still, Dean is feeling out of place. Their found family is so much smaller than Rowena's real one with all the siblings and cousins from both sides of the pond. And this is only the rehearsal.

As soon as dinner is done, Dean excuses himself and flees to the hotel. A real one that Sam was kind enough to pay. It makes Dean feel only smaller and not good enough.

He takes a shower and walks out on the balcony, just a towel slung around his waist. He can hear the waves hitting the beach nearby and seabirds screeching. He gets why Sam moved here, why he won't come back. It still stings.

Dean did everything in his power to get him so far and he can't bring himself to regret it. But he's still angry. Maybe he is anger, plain and simple. He's been angry since his mother died and his father gave a shit about giving his sons a home. This anger will probably never go away. It's good that Sam found happiness, Dean muses. At least one of them should.

There's movement on the balcony next door and despite the separation wall, Dean can see the trenchcoat clad arms propped up on the railing. What are the odds?

"Castiel?"

There is a long pause and then comes, "Dean?" This gravelly voice doesn't fail to move him. If Dean didn't decide to scratch the term 'witch' for his future sister-in-law, he would wonder if her stepbrother might be a witcher, too.

"Yeah. Not into parties?"

There is another pause, probably filled with a head shake Dean can't see. "I don't like crowds of people. And my family is, well, my family. I love them, but it's complicated."

"I get it," Dean says, although he probably doesn't.

"You seem to have cooled down a little," Castiel states matter-of-factly.

"Was it so obvious?"

Castiel laughs and the sound vibrates into Dean's heart, churning it in delicious ways. "You looked as if you were out to kill someone."

Dean chuckles. "I kinda was."

"Why? And who?"

Dean swallows hard. What he would give for a beer right now, but he had way too much of that red wine already. Maybe that's why he answers, "You." There is a long moment of surprise that Castiel doesn't seem inclined to break, so Dean adds, "I built up this story in my head that Rowena bewitched Sam and you were at fault because you brought them together."

"And now?"

Dean shrugs his shoulders. "I only want Sammy to be happy."

Castiel hums on the other side of the separation. "Why are you sounding so sad then?"

A flare of anger rises in Dean's chest. The man doesn't know him. What gives him the right to state something like this?

"Blow me, Cass!" he grinds out. That guy is getting under his skin. Why, he doesn't know. Maybe because he's right.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The retort comes quick like a shot and Dean is struck speechless for a way too long moment. Castiel starts chuckling.

"You're an asshole!" Dean grumbles.

"An asshole who gives good head, though," Castiel says smugly.

Dean groans. No, he won't think of these sinful lips wrapped around his cock. No way, José.

"Is that an offer?" his mouth asks without his consent.

"I'm not a one-off kind of guy, Dean."

Dean wishes he wouldn't have to lie if he said he wasn't either. Is there an expiration date for that stamp if you haven't got laid for more than a year? Probably not.

The silence stretches into an eternity until Castiel quietly says, "Good night," leaving Dean alone in the pale moonlight.

***

Rowena looks beautiful and Sam smart. Dean manages to get through the whole wedding ceremony and his best man speech without a single glimmer of jealousy. Bobby looks at him approvingly and Ellen whispers into his ear that his mum would have been so proud of him.

Still, Dean finds himself on the balcony once again. His thoughts need space to swirl around him. There's a lot to process on this fine day—his brotherly/parent-like love, his own loneliness in a room full of people, the strange stares that Castiel and he have been sharing the whole day…

He presses the palms of his hands against his eyes, hoping to force back the sting of tears building up in them. A warm hand lands on his shoulder, startling him. "You've done well."

Dean chuckles without mirth. "Can't remember when anyone said something like this about me." He bites his lip, hard. Why did he say that? To a complete stranger nonetheless. Castiel doesn't comment on it, though, and Dean sighs in relief.

The music coming from the party changes to something slow and Castiel asks, "May I have the next dance?"

Dean turns his head and stares at the outstretched hand for a very long moment. He has never danced with a man before. Not without a beer bottle in his hand and for sure not a slow dance. But he feels a pull to this man, who he hated with all his guts just a day ago. A man with kind eyes, a shy smile, and a patience Dean isn't used to.

He takes the offered hand and Castiel's smile grows wider, just like Dean's heart. Castiel pulls him slowly into his arms, lets him settle against him, and rewards Dean's head leant against his own with a gentle brush over his back.

Dean shivers at the tender touch and bites the inside of his cheek in a last attempt to keep back the tears welling up in his eyes.

"It's okay," Castiel says. "Let go. No one will see it."

And Dean does. In the arms of a stranger under the Californian moon. He doesn't shake off the tender hand carding through his hair, or the strong arms holding him upwards. He lets out the sobs he's been holding and allows Castiel to brush away his tears before their lips meet in a gentle kiss. He smiles at Castiel bashfully afterwards.

"It's okay," Castiel repeats.

Dean chuckles. "Is it? Crying like a baby in a stranger's arms?"

"Crying like the big brother, who raised a wonderful man and has to let him go to live his own life. Crying like a lonely man, who hasn't been touched intimately for ages."

Dean furrows his brow. "How?"

Castiel smiles at him with so much warmth that Dean feels like welling up again.

"Sam loves you. He talks about you all the time. It felt like I knew you before we even met. And the rest? Let's say, kindred souls recognise each other."

Dean huffs a laugh. "You're good, man."

Castiel smirks at him. "And you're a good man, Dean Winchester," he says and leans in for another kiss.

Maybe, Dean muses, Castiel is magical after all.

[rowyn-writes]

Funny Business

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language

Pairings: Gabriel x Winchester!Reader

Characters: Gabriel, Dean, Sam, Castiel, Rowena, Jack (mentioned only)

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You’re Dean’s daughter, and you’re all getting ready to go to apocalypse world to rescue Jack, your best friend. When Gabriel sees that you’re upset about Jack’s absence, he tries to cheer you up and confesses that he likes you.

Requested by @daisyelll​

You missed your best friend.

It felt like Jack had been in apocalypse world for centuries. Of course you missed you grandmother, Mary, but you weren't really that close with her.

Yeah, Dean Winchester was you father. He had you at a young age, 22, to be exact. Your 'mother,' wasn't really ready to be a mom yet, so she had given you to Dean in hopes he would be a good father to you. And he was.

Dean didn't want you to grow up the way he did, so he never took you traveling. Most of the times, you would stay at Bobby's house, but your dad called to check in every night and to say 'I love you,' before you would fall asleep. Whenever he was in between hunts, he would always come see you and do a 'Daddy-daughter date,' where he would take you to the movies and go out to eat.

When Sam was stuck in the Cage with Lucifer, Dean came and got you, taking you to live with him, Lisa and Ben. You loved your little dysfunctional family. Lisa was a good female influence in your life, seeing as how your own walked out on you. That's why you were devastated when Castiel wiped Ben and Lisa's memories of the Winchester's.

But that all happened when you were a kid. Now, your 21, and desperately trying to find a way to bring your best friend back from apocalypse world.

You had never connected with someone like you connected with Jack. He was like your brother, and you'd kill to protect him.

"Where is the Witchy Winchester?" A Scottish voice filled the air. That was a nickname that Rowena gave you. A few years ago, you had dabbled a bit in magic, and ever since, she had been adamant on training you.

"Rowena!" You said happily, hugging the woman.

"Y/n Winchester." She smiled as she looked at you with sad eyes. "How are you, deary?"

"I'm powering through." You assured her. "I'm just ready to get my family home." Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"We'll get them back, sweetheart." He kissed the top of your head.

"It would be a lot faster if this dumbass, impotent archangel would grow a pair and lend some grace!" You growled loudly enough for Gabriel to hear from wherever he was in the bunker.

"Oh whatever, Baby Winchester! You try being tortured by a Prince of Hell and see how you feel." He called back.

"I was." You deadpanned. "And do you see me acting like a little bitch? No." Sam and Dean snickered at your comment.

"Alrighty then," Rowena said before your argument could continue. "Let's get started." She set down a large bowl on the table, along with a bunch of other ingredients. "Fruit from the tree of life." You began gathering your things, such as clothes, non perishable foods, water, and of course, weapons. You and your father had argued earlier on in the day about you joining them to go to apocalypse world, which ended in a screaming match that you won. You definitely got your temper from you father. "Blood of a most holy man." Sam tossed over a pack of glow sticks that you put in the bag. "And ah. . ." Rowena reached up and plucked a hair out of Dean's head.

"Ow!" He complained, rubbing the back of his head. You rolled your eyes as you continued to pack.

"Something from the other side." Rowena finished, adding his hair to the mix.

"Hey. How’s Gabriel." Sam asked when Cas entered the room.

"He said he needed a minute alone." He said, his voice a low rumble. "He wanted to extract his grace by himself. In private." You shivered at what the Angel told you. You did not want to imagine what he was doing to extract his grace. Your uncle and father had the same disturbed look on their face as you did. "So I left him alone in Dean’s room."

You bursted out laughing, your eyes crinkling at the edges like your dad's did. "You what? No." Dean seemed very grossed out at the thought of what Gabriel was doing in his room.

"I hate to interrupt, but I can’t be the only one to noticed the rather glaring hole in this plan." No one seemed to pay attention to the witch as you continued packing up for the trip. "We open up the rift, it gives us a day to find and save your Mom and the boy. And it’s a very big world over there, and you’re not even sure where they are, so. . . "

"She's right." Cas spoke up. "The clock may run out on us."

"Yeah. It might." Sam seemed indifferent and unconcerned. You couldn't help but feel the same way. All you wanted was your family back together. You tucked your loaded gun into the waistband of your jeans, covering it with your flannel shirt.

"Yeah, well we don’t have any better ideas." Dean shrugged.

"Mm, that’s inspirational."

"Here it is!" Gabriel exclaimed, walking in with a very dim looking vial of his grace. " The final ingredient - a fresh serving of archangel grace."

You raise your eyebrow, tilting your head to the side. "That's pathetic." You announced, earning a snort from Rowena.  "Dude, I could give more 'grace' than that, and I'm a human. You could do better." Gabriel scoffed at your words.

"That is the jet fuel of divine emissions." He proclaimed. You gave a little gag, as Dean and Sam gave him disgusted looks. "It’ll be more than enough to get the job done."

You, Rowena and Cas gave each other skeptical looks. You all knew that there was no way that was going to work.  You shook your head as Rowena added more ingredients to the spell. You strapped two katana's on your back, adjusting them so they fit comfortably.

"Ya know, we won't judge you if you chose to sit this one out, kiddo." Your dad tried to convince you to stay back once more.

"Dad." You whispered, linking your hand with his. "I want to go. You're my family, and we don't leave family behind. Never." Dean gave you a small smile as he squeezed your hand. You noticed from the corner of your eye that Gabriel was watching you with curious eyes.

Rowena called you over to her, needing assistance with casting the spell. It was a rather powerful one, meaning it might need two witches instead of one. "Ready, deary?" You nodded.

"Koth Munto Nuntox." You both bellowed, motioning your hands towards the place where the rift was supposed to open. It gleamed orange, but you could tell the light was fading. There was no way anyone was going through that rift.

"Okay, everyone ready?" Cas asked the group.

"Yeah, all right." Sam nodded.

"Let’s do this." Dean agreed.

"Let's get our family back."

As you go to step through the rift, just like you expected, it began to fizzle and lean to the side. You all tilted along with it.

"Okay, that was very, very fast." You noted. The group seemed to agree with you.

"One could even say premature." Rowena remarked, making you laugh. Gabriel seemed to be flustered by you laughing at Rowena's joke.

"Um. . . I thought it would be enough." Gabriel coughed.

"All right, great. What do we do now?"

"I think we all know what to do." You said grimly. Rowena sent you and Sam a terrified look. You gripped her hand to give her reassurance. "I don't like this as much as the next person, but we need an Archangels grace. And it seems there's only one left on this god forsaken world that can actually provide his grace."

"No." Sam shook his head.

"We need to get Lucifer."

.

. .

. . .

You had decided to stay back while Sam, Dean, and Cas went to get Lucifer. Gabriel had already offered his assistance before coming back to the bunker. You were holed up in the library, starting at old pictures and videos on your phone. All of them were of you and Jack.

You giggled as you watched a video of Jack trying ice cream for the first time. "Ah!" He exclaimed, rubbing his temples. "Is it supposed to hurt? Is this some kind of torture that humans use on each other?"

The video shook as you began to laugh. "No, silly. You just ate it too fast. It's actually really good if you slow down and savor it!"

You felt a tear roll down your cheek as you scrolled through pictures of the two of you. He was your best friend. Your brother. And it hurt like hell to be so close to getting him, but still not quite there.

"Hey, Baby Winchester!" Gabriel said happily, walking into the room. "Guess who just captured Lucif-" He cut himself off as he saw the state you were in.

You quickly wiped away your tears, exiting out of the video app on your phone. "What do you want, Gabriel?" You sniffed.

"Are you okay?" He asked, seeming genuinely concerned, which shocked you. The Archangel never cared about anyone but himself.

"I-I'm fine." You nodded.

He frowned as he approached you, sitting down in one of the arm chairs. "Hey, what's with the waterworks?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. If you spoke, you were sure to sob. You calmed yourself before you began to speak. "I miss Jack." You confessed. "He could always make me laugh when I needed to. And right now, I really need to laugh." Your voice broke as you talked.

Gabriel's frown deepened. He knew you to be this strong warrior, this tough young woman who feared nothing and no one. And to see you so broken hurt him. He stood up, snapping his fingers as he did so. I Wanna Dance With Somebody began to play.

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at the man.

"Yes, really. Now get your ass off that chair and come dance with me. You know, many women would kill to be in your position." You glared at him, feeling skeptical. It was known that Gabriel was a huge flirt. Hell, not even two hours earlier, he was flirting with Rowena, who quickly shot him down, clearly not interested.

"If you try anything, I'll kill you faster than you can say uh-oh." Gabriel held his hands up in surrender, silently promising that he wasn't going to pull any funny business. You slowly got up off the couch and walked towards him. He extended his hand, which you hesitantly took. Gabriel spun you around, making you gasp in surprise.

"I'm quite the dancer, if you didn't know." He smirked. You still weren't in the mood to put up with his bull shit. "I'm going to make you laugh, if it's the last think I do." He promised.

"Why do you care so much if I'm unhappy. You barely know me." You mumbled as Gabriel led you around to room.

"Because, from how little I do know about you, I know that seeing you cry is a rarity. You're this badass warrior goddess that supposedly doesn't have any emotion." You were about to question him when Gabriel interrupted you. "You're a legend in the Supernatural World." He explained.

"Yeah, for being Dean Winchester's daughter." You said bitterly.

"Ah, now why is that such a bad thing?"

"Because I want to be known for the people that I've saved and the good that I do. Not for just being my dad's daughter."

"Well, trust me, sweetheart, that's not all you're known for." You looked up at Gabriel as he rocked you back and forth to the music. He clearly wasn't pleased with the fact that you were still frowning, so he picked you up off the ground and twirled you around.

You gave a giggle of excitement as he did so, earning a proud grin from Gabriel. He began hopping around the room, making you laugh harder. "There's that beautiful laugh."

"Beautiful." You scoffed. "Yeah, okay."

"Why do you find it so hard to believe that someone would use that word to describe you?"

You shrugged. "Because no one thinks of me that way."

"Now, that's not true. I'm sure many, many men and women would love to be with you." Gabriel insisted, which made you blush.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" You asked.

"Well, if I told you, I think there would be a multitude of people trying to murder me." He confessed.

You gave him a questioning look, not realizing what he was trying to tell you.

"Jeez, you Winchester's are so oblivious. I like you, Y/n. But I know if I acted on anything, you're family would murder me in a heartbeat."

You looked at him for a moment before grabbing his jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. It took him a moment to kiss you back, but when he did, you were breathless. "Then we don't tell anyone. Not yet at least."

"Ooh, a secret love. I like that sound of that, Winchester." He murmured as he kissed you again.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

I can promise there will be a part two, hehe. 

[fruitylittletrenchcoat]

Dean knew he was alone by the chill on his arms and neck. He jolted, eyes wide open in the dark.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, where was he?

That was the first, second, and third thought. His fourth was calm down, nutcase. It was fine, it was probably fine, but he looked around the room for something out of place anyways. Though he felt alert, it took a few moments for his brain to catch up with his instincts.

He wasn't in a motel, he wasn't in the backseat of Baby, he wasn't in the bunker. This was his bedroom in his house in his neighborhood, tree branches from his tree knocking lightly against his open window as his curtain fluttered on a calm night breeze.

Someone had opened the window?

The hair on his arms stood up and he wiped a hand down his face. He'd been through this. He didn't need to get up every time to search the house with a gun and a flashlight. He'd graduated to searching the house with the lights on, and then he'd managed to stop searching the house all together. Surely he could manage it tonight. Cas was just getting a glass of water. Alone. In a dark house. With the bedroom window open.

Dean sat against the pillows and pulled the covers up around his waist to wait. He could just wait.

He breathed in the early fall breeze. It was cooler this year. He thought hard on the coolness of late September, they hadn't had a day over 80 in over a week. His hand slipped under his pillow to feel for the hilt of his knife, his ears straining for any strange noises.

Being still made it easy for his brain to conjure up ways he could have missed an intruder, something supernatural finding the life he'd foolishly thought he could make here, maybe even a vengeful hunter. They'd crawled through his window and taken Cas and the bodies of his friends and family were waiting for him sprawled out in the living room.

Safe, safe, safe, everyone's safe.

He'd also managed to cut down on the late night phone calls to Sam and Charlie and Jody, thought Charlie made it a little easier by living across town and meeting with him a few times a week. He knew where she was, she had protections around her.

When had that every truly protected anyone he cared about?

His fingers twitched around the knife and fuck it, he might as well just bring it out in case. He held it over his knees, turning it in his hand, eyes darting between the door and the window every few seconds. He'd stay in this damn bed until he knew for sure, he wouldn't make an issue. He didn't want Cas looking at him like when he'd found Dean rummaging through the basement for hex bags at 3am.

Dean's breath had already built up in his chest when he finally noticed it, that swelling panic that happened when he let it, the one he was supposed to have the tools to quell. He was supposed to practice "mindfulness" when this happened, but he was too busy thinking about the difference in Castiel's eyes when he was alive and dead.

Everyone else had learned to manage it, the panic and the fear, only he was still like this over a year into normal living. Sure, Cas had the odd nightmare and woke Dean up with the distance between them and the ironlike grip on his arms and shoulders, face drawn tightly and eyes too wide, staring at Dean like he couldn't tell what was real. All Dean had to do was smooth his thumb along the hinges of Cas's jaw and eventually he relaxed, his fingers spreading out on Dean's arms, face lowering to rest on the pillow. He kept his eyes on Dean a little longer, to make sure he wouldn't disappear, but he fell back asleep eventually. He didn't need to be walked through the house top to bottom or go tearing through the drawers for emergency holy water in the middle of the night just to feel safe.

But Dean learned one thing early in life that he was punished every time he forgot it, to always trust his instincts, to sleep with one eye open and a gun on his bedside table. The longer he sat here telling himself there was no danger, the easier he made it for whatever, whoever was after them. He should've gotten up as soon as he felt something was wrong, and he got up now, knife by his side. Someone was dead. Dean knew it, he could feel it, he'd sat on his ass and someone was gone because of it, how could he have thought this would be -

The door creaked open, a ruffled Cas with outrageous bedhead and half closed eyes shuffling through and closing it behind him softly. His eyes snapped to Dean, properly open now and moving to the knife in Dean's grip.

Dean tuned in to the sounds of the room and heard his own breathing, heavy and labored, moving through clenched teeth.

Cas was across the room in an instant, guiding Dean down to the bed, hands softly prying his fingers off from around the hilt of his knife, slowly, slowly. Dean's other hand came up to clutch at Cas's t-shirt, needing to hold something, to do something with the spasming muscles in his hands. Under the pillow went the knife and Cas was running his fingers down the sides of Dean's face, gentle as the breeze through the window. His eyes were steady on Dean's as caresses turned firmer, massaging Dean's jaw and behind his ears.

Little by little, Dean let go, his breaths coming a little easier, though still uneven. Cas rubbed circles in his jaw and dragged fingers through Dean's hair. Even the fist he made in Cas's shirt loosened, the tremors traveling along his arms and down his torso.

Cas breathed in through his nose. Dean followed, his breath catching.

Cas breathed out through his mouth. Dean followed, too hard of an exhale, too shaky. In, out.

They breathed together as Cas's fingers scratched gently on Dean's scalp, occasionally stopping by his temples to massage lightly. Dean's vision cleared, still trembling on and off as he stretched out his fingers. He took a deep breath without Cas. Cas ran hands down his neck, shoulders, sides, and up again, nodding to himself. Dean thought of apologizing, took the breath in to do it, but it was a shaky breath, and Cas was already guiding him to lie down.

He ground his teeth together, another shudder going through him. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and pressed his face into Dean's neck. Dean tried again, getting a single syllable out. Cas sighed into Dean's neck, hand coming out from under Dean's back to stroke through his hair again.

"Cas," Dean finally choked out, voice rough and reedy at the same time. Cas lifted his head to look at Dean.

"It's okay," Came his sleep rough voice. "You're safe." Dean's hand tightened around Cas's wrist. "And I'm safe. Sam is safe. Charlie is safe. Everyone is safe."

Cas unclasped Dean's hand from his wrist and brought it up to his own mouth, kissing the knuckles.

Where Dean was pale before, he flushed pink, warmth traveling back into his face and stiff fingers. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. He felt lips press against his temple and stay there for a beat. Soft breath on his skin.

"I went to the bathroom and thought I heard something outside," Dean stiffened. "Neighbor's cat, scratching at the window." Cas murmured, nuzzling back into Dean's neck. His leg slotted in between Dean's and his arm snaked back around Dean's middle, nails scratching softly at his back. Dean only shivered a little.

"S'what you get for giving him so many treats." Dean's face was still a little stiff. Cas grunted softly.

"We're the stewards of the earth. Supposed to care for animals."

"Don't think Captain Zachary needs any more stewards giving him treats. Already too big for his own cat door." Cas huffed a laugh against Dean's skin and took a deep breath in. Dean followed. On their shared exhale, both of their bodies sunk into the mattress, relaxed. Dean still had a string of tension through his back and right leg, but the circles Cas rubbed sleepily on his back helped.

Dean brought his own arm up to hold Cas in return, for which he was rewarded a pleased hum. When Cas's breaths turned slow, Dean sighed and closed his eyes.

[expectingtofly]

Relief

dean/cas fic

3k

also posted on ao3

“Dean? Dean! Can you hear me?”

Dean slowly came to, his head pounding. Disoriented, he opened his eyes and saw only blurry shapes, blinked and realized Castiel and Sam were crowded above him.

“What—?” he tried to ask.

“Thank goodness,” Castiel breathed. He was clutching at Dean's face, his palms warm, and Dean felt his face redden at the attention. "You were out for so long—" Seeming to come to himself, he pulled his hands away from Dean's face.

Dean looked around, trying to get his bearings. Trees... nighttime... they had found a vampire nest, way more vampires than they had expected...

“Is it over, did we kill them?” Dean tried to sit up.

“Woah, take it easy, Dean.” Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “They’re all dead.”

“What happened?” Dean asked, letting his head drop back on the ground.

“You’re an idiot, is what happened,” Castiel answered. “You went after three vampires at once, we told you to wait for us—”

“Alright, alright,” Dean protested, trying to wave Castiel off. His hand felt too heavy and he let it drop at his side. It was coming back to him. Not the smartest choice he’d ever made, but it had turned out well enough—he was alive wasn’t he? He saw the worry in Sam and Castiel’s eyes and decided to keep that thought to himself.

“Dean, you can’t keep doing this,” Castiel said and, shit, how long had he been out? Were those tears in Castiel’s eyes? “You could’ve been killed.”

“I know.” He realized Castiel was clinging to his hand. “I’m sorry,” he added for appearances’ sake and squeezed Castiel’s hand. “I’m alright, though. I’ll live.”

Castiel’s eyes softened and Dean’s skin warmed at the look in his eyes. To be honest, Castiel gazing at him always set his heart pounding, but there was something else in Castiel’s eyes now. A mixture of deep relief and something else—Dean hoped it wasn’t angelic fury directed at him for once again nearly getting himself killed. But before he could move, or speak to defend himself, Castiel leaned down and kissed him on the lips.

Dean froze, instantly too aware of everything—the cold, hard packed ground under him, Sam’s presence next to him, his hand still wrapped in Castiel’s.

Castiel pulled back. The soft look in his eyes was gone, replaced with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He trailed off, his eyes searching Dean’s face.

Dean could only stare up at him. He finally kissed me. He kissed me? What the hell?

Castiel pulled his hand from Dean’s, and Dean blinked, startled out of his dazed thoughts. His heart sank when Castiel dropped his eyes to the ground.

Sam cleared his throat. “Um, alright,” he said. “Come on, Cas, help me get him up. He’s still out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Dean said, pulling his eyes from Castiel and forcing himself to speak. “I can get up on my own.” Sam wouldn't hear any of it, already grabbing his arm to help him to his feet. The forest tipped wildly when he was upright, and Sam wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. They walked back to the main road slowly, Castiel following behind. He reached out once to touch Dean's arm, then dropped his hand. Dean couldn’t look at him.

“Backseat,” Sam said when they reached the Impala and Dean didn’t try to argue. He lay on the backseat and stared at Baby’s roof, trying to piece together what the hell had just happened. Was he still unconscious? Was he dreaming? But it had felt too real. He shut his eyes against the slow rocking of the car as Sam pulled onto the road.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he heard Castiel say quietly in the front seat. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t worry, Cas. It’s fine. He’ll come to his senses in a bit.”

“He’s angry with me."

I’m not, Dean thought.

“No, he’s not,” Sam answered, as if he’d heard Dean’s thoughts. “He’s just… confused.”

Confused? Dean thought harshly. Alright, maybe confused. Confused because he’d never dared to hope that Castiel liked him like that. Confused as to why he hadn’t been able to kiss him back.

When they reached the bunker, Dean insisted he could walk on his own, but Sam hovered nearby him anyway all the way to his room.

“I got it,” he said, pushing open Dean’s bedroom door before Dean could. Dean gave him a dirty look, but truth was, his brain felt like it was rattling around in his skull.

He sunk onto his bed and nodded at Sam. “I’m good.”

“Okay, um, get some rest.” Sam hesitated in the doorway and Dean stared at the floor. “Listen, about Cas—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He raised his head to look at Sam, daring him to say more.

Sam seemed to fight for words, but he only said, “Fine. But you’re gonna have to talk to him about it.”

He shut the door and Dean swore inwardly. Like hell he would.

Too tired to even kick off his boots, he lay back on the covers and stared at the ceiling. It was too much to think about.

*

He woke to his bedroom door creaking open. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see Castiel peeking inside.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel stepped into the room. “Did I wake you?”

“No. Yeah. It’s fine.” Dean sat up slowly. Any dizziness had been replaced with a harsh pounding in his temple.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I can help—” Castiel reached out two fingers and Dean shook his head, a movement he quickly regretted.

“Save your grace,” he managed. “I’m good.”

Castiel dropped his hand. Dean pressed the base of his palms to his eyes, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing now that Castiel was in his room. Man up, he told himself and looked at Castiel. He hadn’t turned off the light before falling asleep and it seemed too harsh now, making him squint. Castiel snapped his fingers and the room went dark.

“Thanks,” Dean said, the darkness easing the pounding behind his eyes.

Castiel nodded. It was easier to look at him now in the soft yellow light from the hallway, his face shaded in shadows. There was still blood on his trench coat. He was fiddling with his sleeves, a nervous, unfamiliar action. “Dean, I—”

“Did Sam call the police chief?” Dean interrupted. “Tell him about the bodies we found at the vamp nest?”

“Yes, he did.”

“That has to be one of the biggest nests I’ve seen in years.” He was rambling, hoping to stave off whatever apology or explanation Castiel was preparing to give.

“You should’ve been more careful,” Castiel admonished. Dean sighed in relief. This, he could handle. Bickering. “My grace isn’t as strong as it once was, I can’t even heal you fully now—”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Cas. I’m not your responsibility.”

The words sounded too harsh even as he spoke them. Castiel looked at the floor and Dean started to hate himself for always saying and doing the wrong things.

But when Castiel spoke, his voice was soft. “You once were, when I rescued you from hell.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I still… care about you.”

Dean froze. Castiel took a step closer to him and his skin thrummed at the memory of the sensation of Castiel’s lips on his.

He crossed his arms. “Yeah, I know. We’re family, we have to care about each other.” He forced a laugh. “Bet you wish you’d never gotten involved with the Winchesters.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel replied. He opened his mouth to say more and Dean said,

“I’m tired, Cas.” He looked up at him and hoped Castiel understood. I don’t know what this means, I don’t know what to do.

Castiel’s shoulders slumped, but he only nodded and turned to leave. At the doorway he paused, and Dean’s heart sped up, then Castiel left and shut the door behind him.

For the second time that day, Dean stared at the ceiling and felt miserable.

He could walk into a vampire nest and never flinch, but let one angel kiss him and he went into shock. He wasn’t angry that Castiel kissed him—in reality, he’d imagined it plenty. Came so close as to wish it would happen. But he never thought he’d be so lucky. Didn’t dare believe Castiel felt the same way towards him—even if Sam always was telling him to get his head out of his ass and look at the signs.

How long have you felt this way? he wanted to ask Castiel. Did it happen when you walked into that barn, the first time I saw your face? He knew that’s when it had happened for him—he’d stared into two gorgeous, blue eyes and had known he was irrevocably screwed.

Why hadn’t he ever taken the plunge and admitted his true feelings to Castiel? Maybe because he was more of a coward than he wanted to admit. Maybe because he was scared Castiel would reject him. Maybe because he was scared Castiel wouldn’t reject him. Because if for once he got to be happy, then what? He knew well enough what it meant to love someone in the life he led. How every evil force in the world tried to use the people he loved against him.

Sam was the one person that Dean would throw the world away for—and it was only right, Sam was his younger brother, Dean had to take care of him. But he couldn’t afford to love someone else that much. So many times he had lost Castiel, and he’d never known how to bear it. If he couldn’t do it when he called Castiel a friend, how could he ever bear to lose him if they had something more?

*

By the next day he was back in fighting shape, or at least that’s what he told Sam to convince him he could drive. Castiel was gone; Sam said he had angel business to attend to. Dean thought that was for the better. He spent several hours driving Baby aimlessly, focusing on the lines of the road and not at all the memory of Castiel kissing him, or the disappointment in his eyes when Dean didn’t kiss him back.

It wasn’t a great distraction, but it was better than staying in the bunker where Sam eyed him constantly and Dean grew tense, afraid Castiel would return without warning.

“Alright, this has gone on long enough,” Sam said a week later when Dean stood up from the map table, announcing he was going for yet another drive.

Dean paused, half out of his seat. “What?”

Sam gestured to him. “You, moping around.”

“I’m not moping,” Dean protested.

“I thought you liked Cas. Like, really liked him.”

Of course Sam would get straight to the point. Dean sat back down and shrugged.

“Cut the bullshit, Dean. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” Dean threw up his hands. “Ask Cas. He’s the one who started this whole fucking mess.”

“You know, I really thought that you two were finally gonna put a stop to all the pining and staring and longing—”

“Okay, shut up,” Dean said. “It isn’t like that.”

“Then what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know!” Sam watched him and Dean huffed. “I don’t know. I, I panicked.”

“You hurt his feelings. You wouldn’t even talk to him after.”

“It’s better this way. Less feelings involved, less chances of people getting hurt.”

“You really think it works that way?” Sam leaned forward. “Dean, whether you own up to it and tell Cas or not, you’re still in love with him.”

Love? Dean started to protest again, but Sam cut him off. “Stop torturing yourself, Dean. You finally have something good coming your way and you won’t take it. This life we live… you never know what’s gonna happen. When our luck’s gonna run out. You gotta take any chance you get, right?”

It seemed Castiel felt that way. He’d taken a big chance. And yeah, Dean felt miserable for crushing his dreams. For crushing his own dreams. But it had to be done.

“That’s the point,” Dean said. Pushing back his chair, he stood. “I might die tomorrow, Cas might die tomorrow. Better for us both if we don’t get too attached.” He walked away before Sam could try and argue with him further.

*

Two more weeks passed before he saw Castiel again. Despite everything, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt at the familiar whoosh of wings when Castiel appeared in the bunker’s garage, startling him and Sam as they prepared to go after a werewolf pack. It seemed like years since he saw him last.

Castiel wavered a little and put a hand on the Impala to steady himself. “You alright?” Sam asked.

Castiel nodded. “I’m afraid flying takes a lot out of me.” He glanced at Dean, and Dean quickly looked away. He listened to Castiel update Sam on the angels, though the blood pounding in his ears made it hard to hear. He hadn’t realized it’d be so hard to see Castiel again. Everything in him told him to fix things between them. But how? If he was lucky, with enough time, they could go back to how things used to be. Not that things had ever been simple between them.

Sam explained to Castiel where they were going and Dean tuned back into their conversation.

“I’ll come with you,” Castiel offered, still not looking at Dean.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Dean slammed the trunk shut. “Let’s go.”

For once, Dean was happy to see a pack of werewolves because it meant he could focus on the fight and not Castiel’s presence by his side. He lost himself in felling the werewolves and only when the last one crashed to the ground did he register sounds of struggle behind him. Whipping around, he saw Castiel across the room fighting off two werewolves. At any other time, it would’ve been no contest, but Castiel seemed dazed and weakened. He fell to the ground and one werewolf leapt at him.

“Cas!” Dean yelled and started running. The other werewolf turned and snarled at him. Dean shot her in the head, bringing her to the ground. Grabbing the werewolf crouched over Castiel, he threw him aside and shot him in the heart.

“Fuck, Cas,” he swore, turning back to him. “You stupid—” His words caught in his throat.

Castiel lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes shut and his waist covered in blood. "No, no, no." Dean dropped down next to him. Castiel’s head lolled to the side and Dean grabbed his face. “No, come on, Cas, wake up, please!”

“What happened?” Sam yelled, running over and skidding to a stop.

“One of them got him, he couldn’t fight them off.” Dean pushed Castiel’s trench coat aside to reveal a deep gash on his stomach. “I tried to get to him—”

“He’ll be okay, Dean, he still has his grace.” Sam’s words rang meaningless in his ears as Dean stared at Castiel’s waxen face. No, not like this, not now.

Blood continued to pour from Castiel’s wound, snapping him out of his stunned daze. He put pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, his stomach turning. “Please, Cas,” he begged. His words turned into a prayer, repeated over and over in his head almost unconsciously. Please, I love you, please.

Then Castiel’s eyes opened.

Dean could’ve cried from relief. He swore instead, sitting back, his hands shaking.

“Hold on, Cas,” Sam said, stopping him before he could move. "You're hurt." Castiel looked down at his side. Feebly, he lifted his hand over his wound and healed himself. Dean watched the gash knit itself together, leaving behind bloody smears.

Dropping his hand, Castiel let Sam help him sit up. He looked around at the dead werewolves, and Dean tried to catch his breath.

“Cas, you son of a bitch, you should’ve told us, about your grace—” His voice shook and he cut himself off.

Castiel looked at him, then dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was so weak, I thought I could—”

Suddenly, Dean didn’t care about any explanation. Reaching out, he grabbed Castiel and clutched him close to his chest. He buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder, gripping his trench coat, and tried to focus on the fact that Castiel was breathing, that he was alive, that he hadn’t lost him.

He felt Castiel’s hand rest hesitantly on his back. He clenched his eyes shut.

Sam had been right. Whether he told Castiel or not, Dean was in love with him. He could either refuse to let himself feel that way—he’d tried for so many years—or finally own up to it and tell Castiel, and maybe even find out his feelings were reciprocated.

Either way, he cared about Castiel, and either way it would hurt like hell if he ever lost him. There was no escaping it.

Consequences be damned, he let go of Castiel enough to pull back and look in his eyes. Then he kissed him. For one heart-stopping moment, he feared Castiel would push him away, or simply freeze like he had done before. He’d deserve it. But then Castiel kissed him back, gripping his shoulder and Dean felt dizzy with relief.

When they pulled away, he searched Castiel’s face. He hated how guarded Castiel's eyes were, as if Castiel was afraid of what he would do now. Berate him, act as if this never happened.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said. Castiel nodded, his eyes serious. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, and he meant it.

Castiel touched his face. “You should be.”

Dean let out a laugh and took Castiel’s hand in his own. “Yeah, I know.” He gazed at Castiel and the next words came easily. “I love you.”

Castiel’s face brightened, a smile spreading across his face. “I love you too,” he said.

“Fucking finally,” Sam muttered. Dean flipped him off, even though he was right, and helped Castiel stand.

“No more almost dying, alright?” he asked. His heart was still thudding in his chest.

Castiel still clung onto his hand. “I’ll only promise if you do too.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Castiel nodded, and Dean knew that they both knew they had no control over any of it, whether they lived or died. But for now, Castiel was alive and holding onto his hand, and Dean had finally said I love you, had heard the words repeated to him. He was certain of that much, and it was enough.

Tag list:

@becky-srs @spooky-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @xojo @marvelnaturalock @letsjustdieeveryone @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @spooky-spooks-and-all-the-spooks @prayedtoyou @spnwaywardone

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list for future destiel fics :)

[mandoalorian]

Shopping with Maxwell Lord

READ PART TWO HERE

DAY FIVE: Shopping with Maxwell Lord [This is the one I really wanted to write for myself and my own self indulgent needs!]

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes

December Writing Challenge: @mandos-blaster @silent-and-resigned @valentinasubmarina

December Writing Challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warnings: allusions to sex, mention of orphanages and losing parents, Maxwell really wants a baby...

Word count: 2.7k

Rating: PG-13

Maxwell stood there, front and centre of the living room, in front of the television, frowning. A crinkle in between his brown eyebrows and his arms crossed over his chest. "Max?" you asked, looking at him with bewilderment. He didn't reply. "Max, can you move? I'm trying to watch A Christmas Carol." Maxwell sighed, moving out the way and slumping on down on the couch next to you. You continued watching the black and white movie for only a few seconds before tossing your head back and pausing it. "What?" you asked Maxwell and he narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he repeated, his tone almost accusing.

"Why are you so miserable?" you asked him and he shrugged, looking away from you and back at the paused TV. "Hello? Cat got your tongue?" you quizzed, causing him to roll his eyes. "Talk to me."

"I just-" Maxwell took a deep breath. "I hate the time of year. I mean, since meeting you, it's been better. It's been so much better but still… it still feels tainted by my past." he revealed. You wrapped your arm around him and lay your head into his lap. He found his fingers smoothing out your hair, bringing him a sense of comfort and belonging. "I don't know what to do."

You thought for a moment, glancing back at the paused television and back up at your boyfriend. "You remind me of Scrooge." you said out loud.

"Excuse me?" Maxwell asked and you giggled, reaching over to grab the remote and press play on the television.

"Ebeneezer Scrooge from A Christmas Carol," you clarified, pointing at the character on the television. "He was always miserable around Christmas. He made his business associate work in the cold and he never gave to charity… but then three ghosts came to visit him and he changed into a better, kind hearted and more generous man."

"Wow," Maxwell scoffed. "You really know how to make me feel better." he said sarcastically and you slapped his arm playfully. "I don't see the resemblance. I give to plenty of charities and I never make my employees work in the cold… and what is he wearing?"

"Maxie," you laughed. "It's set like, 100 years ago. Listen, I think you're wonderful. You give so much already. And I love you no matter what but… Christmas in particular is a time for giving back. Helping those who are less fortunate than ourselves. I think it could really bring you a kind of happiness. It'll keep you occupied and-"

"You have something in mind, don't you?" Maxwell sighed and your lips curled into a grin.

"Maybe…." you smirked, your eyes sparkling with excitement and desire. Maxwell loved to see you happy.

"Okay, what is it?" He asked and you sat up, taking his hands and giving them a gentle squeeze.

"When I was in the city the other day, I saw that the orphanage have been asking for donations. They're saying they'll accept anything. They just want the children to have a Christmas they'll never forget." you explained and Maxwell nodded. He was one of the biggest investors for the orphanage in DC. As a child, he knew how it felt to feel left behind. "So Max, what if we give them a Christmas they'll never forget?"

"Send more money?" he asked, already reaching for his checkbook.

"No. No that's...not what I meant." you shook your head.

"Well what do you propose?"

"Shopping!" you beamed and Maxwell sighed. "C'mon, it'll be fun." You grinned, pulling him off the sofa and wrapping your arms around him.

"It's Christmas Eve, the mall is going to be chaos." Maxwell shook his head in dismay.

"We are going shopping Maxwell." you said sternly. "Trust me on this one."

You pulled him over to the lobby and passed him his winter coat, scarf and gloves before swinging on your own faux fur jacket and wooly hat. "You can make up for this tonight." Maxwell told you, playfully smacking your ass as you opened the front door. You laughed and rolled your eyes before taking your boyfriend's hand and pulling him outside.

Maxwell was right. The mall was chaos, but luckily everyone was in a world of their own, too focused on getting their last minute Christmas shopping in before the big day tomorrow. "What's the plan?" he asked as you analysed the map of the mall, trying to figure out the most efficient route.

"We get toys and clothes and…" you looked up at Max. "100 kids live in that orphanage. We're going to do the absolute best we can for them, okay?"

"Okay." Maxwell agreed and you took his hand.

"Okay," you confirmed. "Let's go."

The first stop was a department store. It was bustling like you had never seen before. You and Maxwell both decided it would be best if you split up and went your separate ways before reuniting at the main entrance with your shopping. Taking control, like he always did, Maxwell told you to pick up toiletries while he'd look at the children's clothes.

You found yourself grabbing bubblegum flavoured toothpaste and princess pirate toothbrushes and washcloths, mermaid bubble bath and astronaut shower gel. You were practically pushing everything you could find into your shopping basket, trying your hardest to ignore the heaviness and the way your arm ached from the weight of it. You grabbed some fruity fragranced body spray for the slightly older girls and some deodorant for the preteen boys before heading to the checkout.

Maxwell Lord in the children's clothing section of the busiest DC department store was something else. He was surrounded by pink fluffy cardigans made for two year olds and onesies with little trains printed on them. Maxwell was someone who had a key eye for fashion, and while you were someone who wanted to grab everything you could, Maxwell really valued the quality. He strutted over to the designer brand section and picked out a dozen pairs of cashmere socks, winter UGG boots, Gucci jackets and white, frilly, made in Milan dresses.

But then his eye caught on something. It wasn't designer, it was a small, pale yellow babygrow with the words "Daddy's little princess" embellished in pink glitter writing. It was the smallest thing he had ever seen and he was enamoured. He stared at it for a few moments, before it was snatched away by a middle aged red faced woman with her hair scraped back into a ponytail.

"Hey!" Maxwell shouted, spinning around and pointing his finger at the woman. "That's mine." he frowned, angry that she had taken the last one.

"Finders keepers." she snarled.

Maxwell tore his hat from his head and removed his sunglasses. "Do you know who I am?" he quizzed bitterly, his hand taking place on his hip.

The woman gasped, her mouth parting slightly. "Oh- oh my god," she said with shock dripping from her tongue. "You're! You're Maxwell Lord! The King of Infomercials!!! I just seen you on the television in the electronics department!"

Maxwell smirked, satisfied with his reputation and influence he had over people. "Yeah, that's me. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to need that uh…" he didn't even know what to call the babygrow, instead gesturing aimlessly towards it.

"Okay!" the woman beamed, "But could I get an autograph and a kiss on the lips?"

Maxwell's frown deepened. "What?"

She scrambled around in her purse for a pen and handed it to him, rolling up her sleeve. "Sign me!"

"On- on your arm?" Maxwell asked and she nodded eagerly. Maxwell removed the lid and swiftly signed his name over her skin before handing her the pen back.

"Oh wow," she blushed, fanning herself before pouting her lips.

"Yeah, not happening." Maxwell sighed. "I'm not kissing you." The woman knotted her eyebrows together and straightened herself up, but before she could retort, Maxwell snatched the babygrow from her arms and ran to the elevator. "Nice doing business with you!" he grinned, waving his arms and running away."

After paying for the goods, you and Maxwell met back up and made your way, this time together, to the toy store. "Reminds me of when I was a kid," Maxwell smiled at the memory as he took your hand and looked up and down the shelves in awe. "My dad would take me here every year to pick out a new toy for Christmas. It was one of the only times we got to spend with each other." You hummed, leaning your head into his shoulder. Maxwell grabbed a few stuffed animals and threw them into the shopping cart. "I can't wait for the day I have kids." he announced.

"I thought you didn't want children?" you asked, your voice soft at the thought of your boyfriend being a father.

"I thought for so long I didn't want kids…" Maxwell admitted.

"I think you'd be an amazing father," you told him, squeezing his hand, only making his smile grow further. "Hey, we should get a few of these new electronic train sets! And the new Little Mermaid Barbies! What do you think?"

"I like how you think." Maxwell replied, pressing a kiss into your forehead as you picked out the dolls.

It was around 2 p.m. on Christmas Day. You and Maxwell had just finished your dinner and you had slipped into a fleecy elf dress you had purchased at the mall a day prior. You revealed yourself to Maxwell who was laying on the sofa watching the television has his stomach settled from all the food he had enjoyed.

"Check me out!" you grinned, giving him a little twirl, the bells on your elf hat jingling. Maxwell's jaw dropped as he drunk in your appearance.

"Where on God's great earth did you get that?" he asked, looking slightly mortified.

"The costume department at the mall!" You laughed. "I thought I could wear it for when we visit the orphanage. Don't worry, I got you a little something too so you don't feel left out." You presented Maxwell with a full body Santa Claus costume. "Ta da!"

"Not a chance." Maxwell sighed.

"Come on!" you growled playfully. "I'm sure the kids would love Maxwell Lord giving them presents, they'd be star struck. But Maxie, they're kids. I think they'd love it even more if the presents were delivered by Santa Claus." Max grimaced, knowing you were absolutely right. "Please." you pouted, fluttering your eyelashes.

Maxwell sighed again, this time deeper. He could never deny you. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll get changed and then we can go."

You squealed excitedly, kissing his cheek. "I love you so much Maxie," you said, and Maxwell felt a blush creep over his cheeks. "I just know you're going to be a great dad one day."

"My back hurts." Maxwell moaned as he adjusted the sack of presents over his shoulder. You chuckled, shaking your head as you carried bags of clothes and toiletries of the orphans.

"Proud of you," you assured him. "Almost there."

You practically melted when you saw the delight of the screaming children hurry over to your boyfriend and wrap their tiny arms around him. "Ho ho ho," Maxwell bellowed and you watched with complete adoration as he dropped the sack of presents and interacted with the children. "Have you all been good this year?" he asked and the kids screamed in affirmation.

"Santa Claus!" A little girl gasped, reaching her hands out and making grabby fists. "I thought you weren't coming this year." she admitted, her eyes glossy. Maxwell kneeled down so he was level with the child.

"My elf told me how good you had been this year," Max smiled, pointing at you. "What's your name darling?"

"Maxine," she smiled and you saw Maxwell soften.

"I like that name." Maxwell replied, pulling her into a hug. "Merry Christmas Maxine."

"Thank you Santa, will I see you next year?"

Maxwell looked at you and you nodded your head. "Of course, as long as you be a good girl, I'll come back next year."

Maxine grinned, before hugging Maxwell tighter, refusing to let go. Just then, a boy who you estimated to be about thirteen or fourteen tapped you on the shoulder. You spin around with your best elfish smile, but frowned when you saw the magazine he was holding. It was a tabloid with your face on the cover. You winced at the bad angle. "You look like Max Lord's girlfriend." he deadpanned.

Maxwell's head snapped towards you and the boy and he strolled over. "Well well well who is that beautiful lady?" he asked, taking the magazine from the boy and checking it out.

"Max Lord's girlfriend." the boy replied. "Your elf looks like her."

Maxwell pinched your cheek. "This elf? No, not a chance." Maxwell laughed and you gave the child an apologetic look. "This lady in the magazine is far too beautiful to look like my head elf."

You weren't sure whether you should feel offended or not. Little Maxine gasped, racing over. "You can't say that!" she squealed. "What about Mrs Claus?"

You smirked, leaning into Maxwell. "Yeah Santa, what about Mrs Claus?"

"Uh- well! Mrs Claus… I do love Mrs Claus very much and she's at home baking Christmas cookies so I better be on my way… but it was lovely to meet you all!" Maxwell waved and you stifled back a laugh.

"Please don't go." Maxine cried, hugging Maxwell's legs.

"Be good and I'll be back next year." Maxwell promised, patting her on the head.

"Promise you'll come back?" Maxine begged, tears in her eyes. You wondered how many times little Maxine had asked a parental figure to come back to her and been let down. Maxwell wondered the same, his heart breaking at the thought.

"I promise." Maxwell affirmed, raising back to his feet and placing a hand on the small of your back.

"Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy your presents and remember to be good children. We hope to see you next year!" you said farewell with a cheery smile and the children waved back.

When you got home that evening, you slid out your elf shoes and took off your hat. "Can you help me get out of this dress?" you asked Maxwell, holding up your hair so he could reach the zipper.

"Actually…" Maxwell trailed off, biting his lip. "Maybe you could wear it for bed?" he suggested with a smirk.

"An elf? Really Max? You want me to be an elf?" you laughed in disbelief.

"Could be fun." he shrugged and you rolled your eyes, opting to leave the elf dress on as you clambered into the warm king sized bed, watching Maxwell as he got undressed. "Oh I almost forgot," Maxwell said, reaching into the bag from the department store yesterday. "Close your eyes." You followed his instruction as he dived into the bag and took out the pale yellow babygrow he had fought for. He padded over to the bed and sat down, placing the outfit in your hands. "Open."

Your lips parted slightly as you took in the embellished words 'Daddys little Princess'. You glanced back up at your boyfriend and gave him a questioning look. "I'm confused." you admitted and he took your hands, rubbing circles into your skin.

"I really want a kid," he whispered, looking into your eyes. "I know you do too, and when we've talked about it I've always shut you out but… damn it, I really want one. Do you think… I mean. What do you think-"

You cut him off by pressing a kiss into his lips and holding him tight. "Okay," you nodded, your voice croaking with all the pent up emotion, rubbing your nose against his. "Let's have a baby." you smiled and Maxwell grinned, pushing you into the bed and climbing on top of you.

READ PART TWO HERE

[naruhearts]

It’s been hours since 15x18 and I’m still an absolute fucking HOGWASH of a mess.

I was optimistic for a few years since S11/12, and ofc, naturally, that optimism would waver and spin and yeet itself into the ether sometimes. I wrote so much positive meta about Dean and Cas, about their love stories, their arcs intertwined like gorgeous twin moons. I word vomited, cried, yelled. So many people joined me. I loved exchanging thoughts, dreams, metatastic literary interpretations!!! Then life happened — I got too busy, and suddenly 2020 smacked us across the face so damn hard I couldn’t see a thing, and I stayed away for a while because it was hard to deal, and y’all who know me, either online or IRL, knew I had a massive love-hate relationship with this show, yet I still managed to stay with one foot in the DeanCas fandom door because deep down, truly, in my sad heart, my hope for A Destiel Happy Ending aka Destiel Going TextualTM still existed.

My gut was right for keeping my damn foot in that door. If someone told me 5 years ago that on NOVEMBER 5, 2020, IN THE MIDDLE OF A WHACKY USA ELECTION IN WHICH DONALD TRUMP IS LOSING, that Cas would actually and finally tell Dean he loves him — that he’s in love with him, found a fundamental PURPOSE IN HIS EON-LONG LIFESPAN BECAUSE OF HIM — I would have been so legit in disbelief laughing at your ass and making a bet to shave my fucking head first if Destiel ever becomes canon ‘cause it’s impossible asf for it to be textually and explicitly canon, right? why not make a crazy bet to shave my beautiful head of hair off?! IT ALL SOUNDS SO PSYCHOTIC RIGHT

META WRITERS WERE RIGHT. WE CALLED IT, AND SO DID WAY TOO MANY VIEWERS CALL IT, wonderful viewers who engaged with our meta and cheered and bawled with us. Tonight, Destiel went and killed us all. Once I’m coherent and settled enough (I’m obviously not JSKDKEKEK), I’ll make so many posts if I can that my eyes will probably cross tf out but in general I’m fudkcndm Injust can’f fescirbe

Dean was the SINGULAR MEANINGFUL BLIP IN CAS’ LIFE.

DEAN WINCHESTER CHANGED CASTIEL.

FOR CAS SO LOVED DEAN WINCHESTER THAT HE GAVE HIS ONLY LIFE, SO THAT ANYONE WHO BELIEVES IN LOVE CAN HAVE ETERNAL HAPPINESS AND LIKE I MEAN

DABBERENS DELIVERED ON THE GREATEST LOVE STORY EVER TOLD VIA CAS’ LOVE CONFESSION, A DOUBLE WHAMMY IN WHICH HE KNEW THE EMPTY COULD KILL DEATH. IT’S A LOVE STORY. *IT’S A LOVE STORY THAT WE NARRATIVELY KNOW CANNOT COME TO A CLOSE UNTIL DEAN SAYS I LOVE YOU TO CAS IN RETURN OR ELSE LEAVING IT AT THIS WOULD BE THE WORST GROSSEST BURY-YOUR-GAY COPOUT BUT I SHALL WITHHOLD FROM ANY JUDGEMENTS OR DISCUSSIONS ABOUT THAT UNTIL 15x20 AIRS*

FOR YEARS WE WERE CALLED DELUSIONAL ASF, AND I CAN PROUDLY CLAIM THAT I’M A HELLER THROUGH AND THROUGH BECAUSE THE ONE THING I WANT IT’S SOMETHING I KNOW I CAN’T HAVE I CARED ABOUT THE WHOLE WORLD BECAUSE OF YOU YOU CHANGED ME, DEAN I LOVE YOU

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I