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writerwrites · 5 years ago

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A Cruel Tide

Pairing: Steve Rogers (nomad!Steve) x Reader

Summary: A lost hero thinks she needs saving, but this divorcée’s needs were different, fleeting, and then full of attachment. Can they overcome the burdens on their shoulders and keep their word?

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Smut 18+, specifically unprotected sex, soft Dom Steve (if you squint), some mentions of a divorce and criminal father and hints of winter holiday cheer.

A/N: *THIS IS A ONE SHOT* This is the Week 1 prompt to the Optimistic Captain Donut Challenge created by @captainchrisbaby @captain-a-rogerss , @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho , and @donutloverxo ... The Week 1 Prompt was based off of the moodboard below and “What Could Be as Lonely as Love” by Amber Run

“Please come back, Baby. It’s Christmas! Where are you going to go?” She heard her ex plead on the other end of the line as she stood soaking wet in the lobby of a cheap hotel. Even the weather had turned to shit on the first holiday since the divorce. “You didn’t even take your bag. What am I supposed to tell them when they come out of the kitchen with your favorite dessert?”

“The truth.” Her words were as cold as the sleet pelting the glass door by the empty concierge desk. A few taps on the phone screen and it was over, screen black. Silent. Merry Christmas, no more lies. Just as her hand went for the bell again a stranger cleared his throat. Hand snapping back to her side, her gaze caught the movement out of someone by the vending machines in her peripheral vision. It took a minute to place him, the grown out blonde hair seemed darker and his thick beard certainly changed the alter boy appearance that the world had made synonymous with his Captain America persona. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks: this was a wanted man. She could have pulled her phone back out, could’ve called for help or ignored him, but when her eyes met his, despite the long disheveled hair and thick beard, the softness to him was undeniable. The only thing she could muster was a simple, few hours too early, “Merry Christmas.”

“You just missed him, the manager. He left to get a good seat at midnight mass.” His blue eyes flitted to the window and back to you. It was like he was waiting for the woman to say something as he flipped a coin in his hand and tucked it back into one of his pockets. “You’ve got to be cold. No point in waiting around or paying for a room when I’ve got an extra bed.”

Even with his nod for the young woman to follow him she was reluctant, wondering why he had a second empty bed and why he wasn’t with someone for the holidays- even as a fugitive. She couldn’t remember all of their names, never really following all the ‘super terrorism’ headlines, but knew there was at least a half dozen of Stark’s former friends that had stood against him, were arrested, and went ‘missing’ from some prison facility she couldn’t recall the name of. Despite her mind trying to dredge up whatever fleeting bit of news she’d heard, her feet were still following him through the dim hallway until they made it to his door. “What were you doing in the lobby if you knew he wasn’t there?”

“Vending machine. No room service tonight… I’ll get you some clothes and head back over. Do you want anything?” The grit in his voice was familiar, the sound of exhaustion, and her eyes moved over his frame as he spoke to the door handle and then the closet rather than looking at her. Where had he been while the world was looking for him? She mused as she watched him dig through a duffle bag and pulled out some extra clothes. When he turned to give them to her, the Avenger’s eyebrows knit together. The look of concern made her shoulders turn in self-consciously. “You’re shaking.”

In the subtle exchange of a flannel button up and worn in sweatpants her hands brushed over his, finding them rough with soft and slightly raised scars at his knuckles. “Sorry.” She looked for the bathroom door and stepped around him, pausing before reaching for the handle, talking to her heels. “I’m sorry. Uhmm, no thank you, I had dinner. I’m just cold, wet… Thank you for being so nice to me.” She couldn’t do it, couldn’t pull her gaze off the floor, and with nowhere to go she couldn’t run. An apologetic smile found her lips and he saw it but gave her some space, leaving the room to go back to the vending machines before she walked into the bathroom and changed.

Steve stood at the vending machines, texting on his phone while he dropped money into the machine. His thoughts were on the phone call his superior hearing had overheard and the subsequent stammer in the young woman’s heartbeat. He knew the feeling of love lost too well, but to see it written on her face, to see even her dark skin pallor, it brought back a sorrow he’d thought he’d buried when Peggy died. By the time his ordered assortment of chips, cookies, and honeybuns had thunked to the bottom Natasha and Sam had joined him in the lobby. “I’m not sure she’s going to talk to me.” Steve started, only to be interrupted by Natasha.

“I told you that I should have gone in. You’re not as clever as you think you are, Rogers.” Nat smirked, leaning against the wall after catching a bag of chips he tossed at her. “We’re running out of time. The longer he’s out there…”

“It’s not that. She was on the phone when she came in and it wasn’t about her father. Something doesn’t add up. Why would she even make this trip?”

“Eavesdropping on phone calls? Step up your game. She’s been tapped for a week, we don’t need your ears, we need a conversation. You got this, brother. Do what you’ve got to do to get her to talk.” Sam gave him a smirk and clapped Natasha on the back. He heard Steve, but time was of the essence and with no one at the prison talking, their targets only connection to the outside world, that they knew of, was sitting in this hotel room and they needed answers. “If you can’t make it happen then send Nat a text and we can pretend she’s back for the other bed early.”

“Whatever it takes,” Nat crushed the empty bag in her palm and chucked it over the concierge desk and into a waste bin as Steve nodded and walked past his comrades, but the blonde grabbed his arm. It would have been an understatement to say she hadn’t taken the agreement to have Steve lead the interrogation felt a little personal, but she knew he could do it, perhaps just not as quickly as her. “Try and have a little fun while you’re at it, Cap.”

The jacket dripped into the tub as it hung over the shower curtain rod. It was on sale, a thoughtless gift from her father three years ago, but the only coat she owned with lining since the separation led to a move to Miami. The knee length silver dress was new and now ruined, tag discarded in the trash and the heels next to it over the vent. As she looked in the mirror, water running for what seemed like an hour before it reached lukewarm, she twisted her dark locks so that they were out of her face and less likely to frizz. The waxy soap doing little to rid her of the full face of make up which hadn’t budged in the fray of arriving at the one hotel in the small town that she could afford. Despite freshening up, her body was still shaking. The flannel’s too long sleeve flapped past her fingertips and the sweats kept riding down to the widest point of her hips, making her look like a tired college kid.

With both of the beds made, she couldn’t be sure which one to take and settled for the one nearest the bathroom. As soon as she collapsed onto it she could smell the same scent as the shirt she now wore. The distinct sweet woody smell of patchouli, slightly cloaked in a hint of fabric softener. Her teeth chattered as the door opened, but she didn’t bother to move outside of hiding her face. She felt the weight of his body slumping onto the mattress at her side, the sound of plastic raining down on the sheets was what made her peak her head out. “Oh, wow! Was there a malfunction in the machine?”

His steely blue eyes looked at the young woman with worry but it seemed to melt away in a blink or two. “No, I couldn’t decide and I remembered you said you’d had dinner but not dessert, so Merry Christmas.” Both of their fingers moved toward the honeybun and he laughed a little, “A deal? One of us gets the honeybun, the other gets to pick the movie?”

Her chin quivered, as she tried to smile while she reflected on the options. “No deal. We split the honeybun and agree on a movie.”

Taking her lip in her teeth to stop the chatter and anxiety, her sad eyes looked up at him. “All right, you win.” He got up and passed her the remote, taking his time to go back to the closet where he turned up with a stack of clothes under his arm and socks in his hand. “Here, I forgot these. I’m just gonna hop in the shower, maybe be five minutes. No stealing my half or starting a movie without me.”

By the time he emerged, warm steam poured out of the bathroom with him. Steve thought she would have warmed up and calmed down, the sound of her heartbeat and shivering no longer ringing in his ears. Instead, he found all of the food in a little pyramid on the nightstand and a black and white movie waiting for them on the television. “You can have the whole honeybun if we can watch this…”

The glimmer in her eyes and swollen red bottom lip, she could tell he knew she’d been chewing on it the whole time. He slumped back onto the bed next to her, his damp hair dripping down into his beard. His brow furrowed thinking she’d leaned in when it was just his weight on the cheap mattress sliding her in. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t pulled away immediately and then she felt the shiver of his warm, minty breath on her skin. A wave of relief washed over her when his features warmed. “No deal, we split it and we’ll watch your movie.”

His words had been whispered and he didn’t pull his blue eyes from her face. She felt naked being looked at so seriously and her eyes moved down the slope of his nose to the beard. Reaching up, her small hands brushed the droplets of water out of it, surprised to find it softer than she could remember a beard being. Her thoughts immediately went to the last beard she touched, the last hotel room, the last person she wanted to think about and her thighs clenched together with want while her eyes pressed together to hold back the emotions she had been running from for a year and had literally sprinted from an hour ago. “It’s The Lemon Drop Kid… it’s the Silver Bells movie.”

Steve leaned his face into her palm and offered up a simple grunt of acknowledgement before he opened his eyes again. She watched him in shock, that little act of intimacy making her aware of how lonely she was in this world. He seemed to notice, covering her hand in his. “Your hands are still cold.” The tension between them, the unblinking gaze, the whispered words, both of their hearts were racing. Steve caved, giving her a choice. “Want me to stay? It would probably be easier to share snacks?”

Before she could stop herself she was nodding and he was leaning over her, taking the honeybun off the nightstand before collapsing back on the pillows. Steve watched her lick her lips but assumed it was a natural reaction to the honeybun passing her nose. With her hands pulled to her chest, she swallowed when his solid frame hung in front of her for that fleeting second and when it was gone her hands covered her mouth to stop herself from taking in a deep breath of the intoxicating smell of him. Her eyes stayed glued to the television as she blew shaky breaths onto her fingertips. The monologue in her mind about all the little anxieties of life that led her to the desperate place where she was okay sharing a hotel room with a fugitive stranger over Christmas was louder than the man opening the plastic, chewing, starting the movie, and then talking to her about her half of the honeybun. Her dark eyes blinked at him when his face was in front of her again, her thick lashes fluttering in confusion. “Hmm?”

Steve set the snack down and took her hands in his, rubbing them gently as his callouses brushed against her soft skin and his beard tickled her palms when he brought them to her full lips. He only let one hand go with a nod to the food before he continued on his little mission. She nibbled at the sticky treat and watched him, holding it out every bite or two for him to steal a bite for himself until it was gone. Nothing made sense to her anymore, she wasn’t a flirt and certainly never fell into the category of being overtly trusting. He picked up on the nerves, the expression of her being trapped in her thoughts, it reminded him of Bucky and a pang of guilt to his closest friend being in an icebox in Wakanda fleetingly hit him. Neither of them needed to be alone with their thoughts on a holiday, he decided, so he tried to get to work and strike up a conversation, “Why’d you pick this movie? Not trying to make me feel good by picking an oldie, are you?”

“I used to watch it with my dad… Everyone has a go to Christmas movie, I guess. I just didn’t think I’d see it on television. When it comes to holiday movies, I guess most channels play Miracle on 34th Street if they’re doing a classic… most do the newer films. Do you have a favorite?” She watched him settle in next to her once more, reaching for his hands as he pulled away and, to her surprise, he took it back in his and draped the other arm over her shoulders.

She grabbed a pack of cookies with her free hand and Steve’s blue eyes watched her more than the movie. The woman no longer shook or shrunk in on herself with a little bit of reassurance and comfort, again, reminding him of Bucky. “Why aren’t you with him this Christmas? Why aren’t you with anyone?”

The questions felt immediately too intrusive, despite the casual tone in his voice and her body tensed against his briefly before she decided they were totally normal questions. “I haven’t heard from him in two years. I don’t really have people… I gave up most of my friends over a relationship that ended a year ago.” Her gaze fell to her hand in his, the ring finger glaringly naked as the Avenger’s thumb brushed over her knuckles. “You have a lot of scars too.”

He was processing every word and micro-expression when his gaze followed hers to his hands, initially wondering if she’d heard something about his story. “Part of the job. I take a lick just fine though.”

She nodded, noting the present tense to his response before deciding she hadn’t meant just the scars on his hand. Though she didn’t really know the depth of it, there was some mutual sentiment she couldn’t put her thumb on with him. “Doesn’t make it right. There’s enough pain in the world to not need to carry the memory of it on our skin until the end of time.” Her own were hidden under the long sleeves of his flannel and she’d almost forgotten how she swam in it despite her curvy frame. “Have you seen this one before?”

“No, I missed out. I’m sure I’ll love it. I’ve always been a fan of film.” He stole a cookie, mulling over how to keep the conversation on her father, “I’m sorry you haven’t talked to your father. Have you thought about calling him tonight? Tis the season, right?”

“It’s easier said than done.” She sighed. “I don’t have a number to reach him and he doesn’t have mine. I… I don’t even know if he’s alive.” The words came out in such a broken way, at first rushed and full of closed off frustration- not at Steve but the situation. Then came the familiar burn of grief and the internal conflict of trying to determine how much information was too much information to share on the subject. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” He quickly interrupted her apology, but he felt the damage had been done. Steve pulled her to his chest in a slow but gentle hug and again she didn’t fight it. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his strong pulse beneath the hard muscles and her legs tangled in his as his sweats slipped lower on her hips. “For what it’s worth, I can’t get a hold of the person I’d like to spend the holiday with, too. Missed a lot of Christmases.” He swallowed down the knot in his throat, “Maybe we can just focus on being present and what we can change.”

Resting her chin on his chest, she looked up at him, “If you want to talk about it, you can. I’m a better listener than a talker.” It was true, after a year of keeping a massive secret about an ended marriage full of them, she became a master of doing as she was told.

Steve moved his hands up her back, inadvertently sighing when she pressed herself closer. They were both touch starved and though he thought he should keep his guard up, that this was work, the way she looked at him made his new hard exterior feel like a facade. Looking at her through his long lashes, he felt torn for the first time between the job and physical needs, his thoughts trying to just find some balance. His palm brushed against the skin peaking out at her lower back, “I don’t really have much to say about him. My best friend, he’s getting some help and I can’t be with him while he’s doing it. I feel helpless about it and then a bit torn up about missing more time with him. It’s a complicated relationship and complicated circumstances.”

Reaching up, she scratched her fingers through his beard, “But does he know that you’d be there supporting him if you could?” Steve nodded and she offered up a small smile and a few more words, “Then that’s all that really matters. You’ll be there for him once you can. I may not know anything about you outside of this room or by any names except ‘Steve’ or ‘Captain America’, but I can tell the news read you wrong.”

Her dark eyes searched his as she chewed on her bottom lip. Though she’d never thought of herself as a good judge of character and had certainly found good in horrible people, the man’s little gestures and something in those blue eyes told her that she didn’t need to be afraid of him. His hands moved up her back, under the flannel shirt massaging the soft expanse of her supple curves. Just as slowly, she untangled her legs from his, the sweatpants slipping down her thick thighs with the traction. She left them there, climbing onto his lap with little regard to the fact that she was now in her silky knickers on a soldier’s lap, fingertips still pawing at his beard. Steve’s hands moved over her waist, her body as pliable as his wasn’t and he watched her throat and savored the hiccup in her pulse every time his hands brushed over a new part of her skin. “We should probably…”

With a nervous laugh she agreed, but her hips were still rocking against him and his mouth was still inching closer to hers. “…or we could ju-”

Steve wouldn’t be able to explain why he’d crossed this line later when Nat and Sam asked him about the lack of intel. A part of him didn’t care. Her full lips were soft against his and the way her wanton whimpers poured into his mouth when his tongue drew across them made his cock twitch. Every little sound and taste of her made his body react. Steve’s hands reached up her full frame, opening the buttons of his shirt and discarding it until the curvy young woman was on his lap in nothing but her bra and panties. His bright blue eyes were alight as they gleaned over her frame. His sex life wasn’t anything to write home about, chaste in comparison to Sam, Nat, and even Bucky; it also happened to revolve around work- agents in peak shape. He ached for her, a natural beauty with soft edges. Steve palmed up her back and she followed his fingers, helping him undo the clasp before helping the silky number join his shirt somewhere over the edge of the bed. Her eyes were on his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed at the dry knot there, as she continued rolling her hips against his. The woman’s were cheeks pink with embarrassment at her level of exposure in the warm light of the room, the tips of her fingers slowly plucking at his own clothes before Steve leaned in and pulled her mouth back to his. “You’re beautiful.”

The sweet words pouring from his lips just before they latched onto her breasts made her laugh and then gasp for air. His tongue drew circles around her nippled before he nipped at them and his hands caressed the soft flesh. As he marked her with three wine stained blemishes on her chest, she finished removing his shirt, only laughing again at the contrast of his toned body to her swelling curves. Her laughter filled the room as he smiled against her skin and she responded by reaching into his pants and stroking him until he was completely hard in her hand. She couldn’t help herself, panties soaked from every touch. She pulled them to the side, rubbing her wet slit against his length. Like animals they both pawed and groaned over the new friction. “Do you want me?” Her nervous whispered words brushed against his ear and Steve lifted her off his lap just enough to pull shimmy off his pants and line himself up to her entrance. Pulling his mouth to hers she kissed him softly, slowly lowering herself onto him despite his firm grip on her waist a clear bruising plea for more. “Be gentle with me.”

Steve groaned as he filled her slowly and completely, her warm wet cunt milking him as she gasped into the curve of his neck. His lips ghosted across every inch of her skin as he stretched her out, hardly moving or encouraging her to move, simply appreciating how good it felt to be inside her. When her breathing steadied, Steve palmed over her ass and pulled on the silky fabric of her panties like they were reins. Her back arched and she started to grind on his cock, her clit taut against the fabric and his pelvis only causing her to moan loader as she gripped the soldier’s broad shoulders. With a firm clap and squeeze to the round soft skin of her cheeks she picked up her pace, eyes closing with satisfaction as his thick cock filled her and stroked her walls again and again. “Good girl.” He groaned, his hands moving down her thick thighs, the veins in his arms prominent as he helped lift and drop her down on his length. Steve’s blue hues settled on the view of her dripping down his length, so wet for him. How long had it been since he gave in to just wanting someone? His thoughts were fleeting, drawn back to the reality of the stranger riding him like she hadn’t been satisfied in her entire life, now her fingers pulling his mouth to her, but he nibbled on her lip and pushed her back, his mouth drawn back to her full breasts.

With here hands clutching the bedsheets behind her, back arched as she rode his slow deep thrusts into her, she couldn’t help but tighten around him, watching him hold her was one thing… a simple delight she’d not had in a year. It was listening to him grunt and growl when her pussy throbbed around him because of the little delights. As he sucked on her breasts and he squeezed her ass holding her down on his thick cock with every thrust, she felt him hit her sweet spot, sending little heat waves through her core until she was begging. “I’m so close. I need you, Steve. Please, please make me cum.”

Steve obliged, easily laying her back on the bed and tangling his legs in hers as he lowered his weight onto her small frame. His hips rutted against her and he grunted against her mouth between greedy kisses while his hands, which had been pinning her to the bed spread her legs further apart, giving him complete access to push her over the edge. She bit her finger on one hand as the other pulled at his thighs, muffling her pleas for release, “Come on, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Let me hear that beautiful voice say my name.”

His thumb brushed over her clit in teasing flits, back and forth and her hand left her swollen lips, clutching his wrist as he continued to rub her sensitive bud through her release. “Steve! Please. I…” Her orgasm came hard, pouring her juices over his cock he kept warm and deep inside of her, savoring that tight pussy now clutching him like she’d never let go and all the subsequent little earthquakes from his ministrations on her clit. Her thighs shook and she laughed and purred and pleaded, but he gave it to her and when she was undone on the bed, his hard length still deep inside he laid down next to her, and rubbed her back. “Don’t stop.” She whispered after a tired soft kiss up his neck to the scruff of his beard at his jaw. Her leg slid over his hip and, again, he abided her request, his hand moving down that leg and back until he was sure she was ready. Her soft kisses confirmation as he began to rock into her once more.

This wasn’t just a fuck, it was slow and sensitive, pleading. He worshiped every inch of her as he felt her soak his cock two more times from the slow, deep grinding and nipple play. Each time he marked her skin with another hickey, groaning into her neck and shoulder and mouth about how sexy listening to her cum was, how good she felt around him, how perfect her soft curves were. The praise made her throb around him and he pulled her onto his chest, asking her where she wanted him to finish. Her pleading to stay inside her, the purrs of how much she loved being full of him set him off. She rested her body gently against him and, cradled there, he claimed her in broken and hungry thrusts, his coarse hands holding her tightly to his frame as a final thrust to the hilt and he poured hot spurts of his seed into her. Her lips brushed across his salted skin before she let out a satisfied sigh. His blue eyes closed, a sleepy laugh passing his lips, “It doesn’t get better than this does it?”

Her tired eyes peaked open at him and she giggled as his hands flopped to their sides, only his finger tips tickling her tired thighs. “I’ve never had better.”

A peaked ‘hmm’ passed his lips as if to ask, is that so, but neither of them had energy to spare for conversation. Steve managed to tuck one arm under his head, his heavy eyes watching her slowly fall asleep, the unprofessionalism of his decision to sleep with her now sinking in as the charm of her melted into a warm, silent comfort. In bittersweet introspection he thought of how to rectify the interrogation that needed to happen. Knowing she wasn’t from this city and likely to go home under the circumstances, he settled on making plans to find her in a week. Nat and Sam wouldn’t be happy, but he’d find a way to keep them busy with other leads until he could talk to her again. Silver Bells echoed through the room and Steve fell asleep, just for a little while, basking in the comfort of being adored and held rather than objectified or idolized. For the first time, he dreamt of a dance with a partner that wasn’t Peggy.

The familiar quiet buzz of her phone woke her up with a cat-like stretch and sigh, momentarily forgetting where she was. Clumsily smacking her hand around in the direction of the sound she quickly hit the wall of muscle at her side. “Good Christmas morning. You’re up early.” He smiled with a quiet laugh on his lips. “I plugged your phone in when mine stopped charging. I think all your messages are coming in.”

Her eyes sheepishly looked up from the pillow at him, processing the fact that the night hadn’t been a dream. “Merry Christmas morning, Sir. You’ve been up long?”

With a shrug, he let her process the fact that he was in dark tactical gear. He broke her thought process with the soft whisper of her name, waking her up with delightful surprise and curiosity as his expression looked hopeful. “What are you doing New Years Eve?”

She bit her lip and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with no desire to look at her phone or confess how dull. “Home alone, I guess.”

“Don’t have to be if you don’t want to.” Steve set his phone next to hers and slid down next to her, “All you have to do is ask.”

Her heart raced and she felt like she was still dreaming, but he reached out and brushed her dark hair from her eyes and met his gaze as Steve waited for her answer. “Find me in Miami and kiss me at midnight?”

With a satisfied hum, he closed the space between them. Steve hovered over her, craning his neck down for a quick peck when she shyly pressed her lips together. “That explains the coat.” He laughed, unpinning her so she could get out of bed, watching her as she slipped out of bed and picked up clothes from the floor as she tiptoed to the bathroom. Though she hadn’t gotten the door closed, she already saw her things neatly folded on the edge of the sink, a little travel kit set atop it all. As if he could see her smile, he hollered toward the door. “I hope you don’t mind that I spoke to the manager when they came in this morning about needing some basics.”

The rest of the morning went by too quickly for either of their liking. He didn’t join her in the shower, distracted by a disagreement in a group text with Nat, Sam, and the other nomads about trying to interrogate her again in a week. Meanwhile, she was glad for the privacy to do her hair and clean the night from her brown skin, the only reminders left were the tender aches and the plum bruises. Just thinking about it made her wet again and, despite the work related distraction in his hands his superior hearing made him hear her moan more than once, making his twitching cock semi-hard in his tac suit. He sat with her while she waited for her ride, he took her number, and when he kissed her goodbye, his flannel shirt tucked into her purse, both of them found a slice of happiness in a lonely holiday.

The loft apartment felt vacuous compared to the cheap hotel room, but she managed to make the most of the long week. Decorating the place with a small tree draped in tinsel and silver bell ornaments, draping the window sills and counters in twinkling garland, and counting down the days to New Years Eve. Each day felt like a month, trying to reconnect with her father while juggling her meaningless job. Each night she pulled on his shirt and her hands slipped between her thighs until she fell asleep blissed out in the memory of their night together. There hadn’t been a single word from the nomadic Captain until a dozen roses waited for her on the doorstep of her apartment, a small card with silver bells detailing the corners that simply read: One more day, doll. - S.

Though Steve thought a week’s wait to see her again would have been painless compared to the lifetime he’d missed in ice or the subsequent years he’d spent mindlessly droning on until he joined the Avengers, but the task had been anything but speedy for an unexpected reason. Sharing the limited information he’d gathered, Nat and Sam took new perspectives on getting the answers they needed for their mission, all three of them tasked with finding people connected to the family. All the digging, shared intel, pointed to an intricately planned prison escape gone wrong. While Nat and Sam thought his worries for their target’s daughter were unfounded due to estrangement, Steve had every intention of keeping his word, simply too busy moving and looking for answers to engage in the formalities of modern flirtation. Every day was busy with work and every night, surrounded by pictures and papers, he’d wonder if she was drowning in thoughts of him too. The roses were his way of making it up to her, his confession, and every detail was carefully thought over.

As she sat in the twinkling holiday lights, the sun long since set. She clicked on the television to a channel showing the Ball Drop in New York, muting it to play her own playlist of holiday songs. To be fair, Steve hadn’t given her a time he’d show up. Cracking open the red wine, she danced alone in the shimmering silver dress that ghosted across her knees and hugged her hips, time slipping by mildly unnoticed with each sip and song. Just as she’d descended into the cushions the door to the apartment opened, startling her and causing her wine to spill across the cushions. It was the broad shoulders filling the doorway that made her hold in her scream. The familiar silhouette stood speechless and her mouth bobbed open and closed like a fish when they closed the space between the living room and front door. Her eyes moved to the television, expecting to see some sort of red tape Breaking News alert that pigs could now fly. Instead, her eyes fell on the time, bright white in the corner and reading seven minutes past midnight. She ran her tongue across her painted lips, closed her eyes, and laughed. Fate, she decided, had little regard for New Year promises.

Taglist: @caplanbuckybarnes

#captainsweeklychallenge #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #fic: steve rogers #writer: writerwrites

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gearadvantages · 3 years ago

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First you will need fishing gear.

First you will need fishing gear. My husband is not the fisherman in worm drive gear reducer our family, I am. So it's easy for me to save old fishing lures that the hooks have dulled and gives me a great excuse to buy more too! Bobbers have a tendency to stop floating after a few whacks on the rocks along the shoreline, rendering them useless to the fisherman but a great find for the decorator. If you confiscate gear from hubby's tackle box remember you now know what to get him for the next holiday or special occasion!Yard sales and estate sales are great for purchasing inexpensive, used fishing equipment for your decorating projects. Yard sales are less risky than hubby's tackle box too. Keep an eye out for used fishing nets, poles, lures, bobbers, metal stringers and other gear. The last thing you want is your fishing decor to smell fishy. Be sure to clean everything very carefully and thoroughly. I use alcohol for lures, bobbers and such. Good detergent and bleach for nets. Vinegar and lemon juice work well too.What type of decorating can you do with your accumulated treasures? This is where the fun really begins, let your imagination shine. Here are just a few ideas to get you started. Minnow buckets make good catch all containers for bedrooms, kids rooms and bathrooms for items like crayons, hair do-dads, brushes and combs etc. If you are really crafty they can be turned into lamps. Buy lamp fixtures at the hardware store or inexpensive narrow based lamps that fit into the top opening of the minnow bucket.

Make your own fishing swag from long pliable twigs, boat line or saining nets. Make sure you either remove the hooks from lures and replace with twisted wire shaped like hooks or snip the points off with heavy wire cutters. I have put chunks of cork on the ends of each point, these look like baited hooks! From the twigs I randomly tie bobbers and lures with mono filament (fishing line). I like to use cafe curtains with curtain clips on these swags because they hang below the bobbers and lures. Curtains with the long tabs work great as well.Old fishing poles from yard sales are very cheap and make great curtain rods. I especially like the cane poles because they are easy to cut to size. Another idea is to hot glue bobbers and lures all over an old lamp base. I think the more the better on this project, totally covering the base. Of course the lamp size and your taste make a difference. If it's a very large lamp or you just don't have enough lures and bobbers you can hot glue solid bands, about 2 inches wide, of hemp rope or twine to fill in larger areas.A mobile like you see in babies rooms are fun and add an interesting art form to your fishing decor.

I prefer to hang the fishing gear at different levels instead of all one length. Again I use twigs or sticks for this project's "cross" to hang the lures, bobbers etc. from and fishing line to tie it all together.Old wooden picture frames with the glass removed make inexpensive picture boxes. Line a piece of thin cardboard with brown, tan or dark green felt. You can also use fishing print fabric. Put this covered cardboard in the frame like you would a picture and hot glue your treasures on the felt. A good trick is to use sets of three. Three lures, one under the other in a corner, three bobbers side by side for a top row, three hand reels in a row at the bottom for weight and one old metal stringer above the reels. Things I haven't tried yet but are on my list to create include fishing lures with the hooks removed as cabinet handles, bobbers or lures for light pulls, fishing net swag around the bathroom mirror and drift wood with fishing gear as a conversation piece.Creating your own fishing decor is fun, inexpensive and most of all you have unique decorating items for your home or cabin. Start collecting old fishing gear and let your imagination go.

#worm drive gear reducer

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likeawildthing · 5 years ago

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in terms of design advice, any ideas for a broke college student apartment room? 💕💕

college is a weird time because you are kind of a grown up but also definitely not! and your interests and tastes will change so rapidly in the next few years. so honestly it’s a great time to experiment and be creative. this advice all depends on your particular space, but in any small space everything that can be double duty, should be double duty (night stand is also a tv tray/laptop tray, art is also bulletin board or jewelry holder), the more uses you can get out of something, the better! going vertical on the walls where you can get away with it is amazing. here are a few easy and cheap ways to upgrade and some basic design principles:

take this design quiz to find out your style (plug in a fake email) and then google or pinterest away. you’ll see repeat themes (for ex. major bohemian trend is macrame, which easily DIYable, or MCM is all about legs and clean profiles). maybe that would be fun post - to highlight different styles and trends. but here are some upgrades that translate to any design style for cheap:

PLANTS

don’t go to a nursery and drop a hundred dollars you don’t have. a plant or two or three you really love will change the vibe of the whole space, and give you something to take care of, which is ofc good for your mental health. tips for getting plants and planters on the cheap!

think of a relative or friend who already has houseplants and ask for free ones next time they’re splitting. i literally did my entire garden this way in my first place.

look on like FB marketplace or whatever your swap site is because people are often selling plants or cuttings for a discount.

i have literally split the cost of a plant with a friend and then split it in half, like a baby before Solomon

pothos plants of any kind are easy to take care of and can split into smaller plants pretty regularly.

succulents are usually a few dollars at the store and everyone loves them! start with one simple succulent.

herbs! if you get herb garden seeds or plants you literally make what you eat!

if you have pets, make sure they are pet friendly.

i do not spend a lot of $$ on planters! i use terra cotta because 1. they’re cheap as hell and 2. cute! some of my favorite planters are terra cotta pots kristina painted for me! you can also thrift pots, which i would encourage, or reuse food containers by putting small holes in the bottom.

create hanging plants by making yarn macrame holders! youtube is your friend on this! you can get a ceiling hook for like $3 if it’s a solid ceiling (drywall) and super easy to patch up when it’s time to leave.

ART

function + form. something organic that you can change out inspiration or art, like a cork or inspiration board (look on like a varage sale or in a thrift store for this). you can get four12x12 cork boards from target for $7 and create something like this from two of them, which is in and of itself a piece of art (and you can take it down w/out damaging walls)

other cheap things i have done for art:

calendar or magazine pages in thrifted frames (my favorite cheap tricks is to get matte black or white craft paint for $1.25 from wm or target and paint a bunch of odd frames to unify them)

a picture ledge like this from ikea is your best friend because you can interchange the art to be whatever you want!

embroidery hoop fabric bulletin boards

seriously, posters are cool. get a cheap poster online and hang it with washi tape. it’s not precious. if you want something more grown up, try to thrift a frame for it for cheap. if you don’t like the color of the frame, paint it! if you can’t hang something heavy like this on the wall, use command velcro strips OR set it on top of a dresser or bookcase and lean it against the wall.

i love tassels and buntings. just google either of those and you’ll get thousands of cheap ideas. in my last bedroom i just had a bunting i cut and made over my bed and it acted like a bedframe and i loved it.

just free prints from the internet hung up with little clips like this ($2 from target) or bulky push pins – those holes are so easy to patch!

when my kids were little until two weeks ago i had an entire wall covered with their artwork. i’m saying maybe go to the thrift store, get some ugly canvases with your friends, and have a painting party. everyone brings a $4 thing of acrylic paint and a brush and have a party. good memories + new art for everyone. swap at the end!

pictures! actually print out those pictures and tape them to the wall with washi tape. you can also do something like this with push pins for as big or small as you want to make it (i have this in my living room

here’s a proper primer on the 7 elements of design, but you can skip that and go here if you want!

BALANCE

white space and focal points. in the same way that you need to break up one massive wall of text into digestible paragraphs, you also need to break up the focus in your room. a FOCAL POINT is a statement area in your room (i.e. the window, over your bed, your desk) that your eye is drawn to, and where you want your eye to be drawn to. ideally rooms should have ONE focal point (that’s like the adverb room for writing) but in a dorm apartment, that isn’t practical because it HAS to be multifunction. the important takeaway is that white space on your walls is okay, and important. it gives you a soft space to land, visually, which is important in making you feel more relaxed and even productive.

groupings – grouping like with like makes great sense organizationally AND design wise. a collection of postcards will look amazing on the wall together rather than spread around the room.

LAYERS

adding layers can make a space feel luxurious – curtains, rugs, extra throw pillows or an extra blanket on your bed or chair. plants are great for this, but fabrics and baskets can add another layer. these can be pricey so i would a. raid your mom’s house if that’s an option and ask if she needs ‘x’ rug or curtains anymore. you can also thrift curtains for cheapppp or even look for clearance fabric – once you wash the curtains they really are safe to use. clearance frabric can be hemmed without being sewn and hung with curtain rings if you need to. and $5 tension rods can work as a curtain rod inside a window frame if needed. i could do a whole post on this but a cheap rug next to your bed and something soft on a window can do wonders! dude i have also bought cheap cotton weave cloth from walmart and used rit dye to make turqoise curtains and i loved for years. see also: RIT DYE

so decorative pillows are expensive as HELL but regular, cheap pillows are like $4. i get cheap fabric or thrift fabric and sew my own, which you could do by hand, really, and use the pillow stuffing to make it. ikea also sells great cheap pillow covers!

COLOR

gosh there are no hard and fast rule here but here is a great primer series on color theory for design that you can translate to your room

simplifying a color palette will feel more calming to you, and so will using cool colors like blues and greens. but again, no hard and fast rules. repeat a color or element (shape, pattern) throughout a room 3x (ex. i have a blue rug and that same blueish tone is in a chair and also on a bookshelf. they don’t have to be the same blue, just color family, and it makes it all seem more intentional)

HOW TO DO IT CHEAPLY

buy secondhand. there are entire thrift makeover and upcycle youtube channels that are amazing! same for diy blogs.

reuse and repurpose what you have. i turned a dvd player box into a toy oven for my kids and they used it as a play kitchen for four years. my bookshelf that stores our games in my living room was $12 from salvation army - i just painted it and added casters for $15. my dresser was a thrift from the REstore, a habitat for humanity store. my end tables are actually butcher block pieces that were in my dad’s factory for forty years. i love bringing old things back to a different life. and you don’t always need a ton of tools to do it.

barter and trade. i traded a one of my kid’s dressers for the hutch that holds our toiletries outside of our upstairs bathrooms.

sell and repurchase something that works for you. i sold my old bookshelves on fb marketplace and bought another that actually works better. this isn’t applicable to everyone!

make muffins for someone in exchange for their sewing skills or knowledge. i’m teaching my friend to sew right now! libraries often have classes and such to learn new skills.

OK so i have rambled enough. i could ramble more. i hope this gets you started and if you have more specific or follow up questions, on this or organization side of things, let me know! remember these are all just guidelines and the most important thing is having a space you love, that makes you feel comfortable and that you’re proud of and happy in. comparing yourself to others isn’t always the best and you can make it a space you love no matter where you are.

#linds dispenses hack job design advice #Anonymous #dorm room #design

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supernaturaltropecelebration · 5 years ago

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Four of Swords

Author: @mattzerella-sticks [AO3] Artist: @maleyah-givemetomorrow [AO3] Pairing: Dean/Castiel Rating: Teen Word count: 7154 Tropes: Bathtub/Bathing, Angst, Aftermath of a Case & Domestic Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: Creature Dean (past tense), Human Cas, Sam/Eileen, Nudity, Blood & Gore (tiny bit), Dean Has Low Self Esteem, Mind Control (somewhat), Getting Together, Love Confessions, Post-Finale

Summary:

The Four of Swords, in the present position, means you don't want to interact with the rest of the world. Because of stress, you need to spend some time with yourself - unhealthy always being 'on'. That the healthiest thing to do is to escape. Dean might crave escape, but it's not something he thinks he can have. Something he deserves, even. After his and Sam's most recent hunt, this cancerous feeling has grown heavy and weighs him down. He cannot escape on his own, as best he tries. Luckily a guardian 'former angel' angel swoops in at his lowest. Helps pick up the pieces as best he can and lovingly put them back together. But he can only do so much. The rest is up to Dean. Can Dean take those final steps, say those final words, and finally free himself?

Excerpt Below the Cut:

“Dean what are – oh! I’m sorry!” He whips around and finds Cas standing in the doorway. Hands squeezing the towel, eyes trained upwards and not ahead like they must have been moments ago. The blush on his cheeks clueing him in. “I thought, when you said you were home, you’d be in bed…” Dean rakes his gaze over the other man’s body. At the scruff in serious need of shaving, unkempt along his jaw and overrunning his neck. The oversized t-shirt, tie-dyed in various shades of oranges, reds, and yellows. A graphic from a Led Zeppelin album ironed on from a collection Dean found at a garage sale, given over because the angel reminded him of Cas. His shirt’s hem overhangs and covers half of the shorts he wears, hairy calves fully on display. A year into humanity and Dean marvels at how he stays so heavenly. “No,” he says, “don’t feel much like sleeping…” Then Dean drifts his focus away from the other man and back to the shower stalls. Empty and waiting. In a few seconds he could wash the entirety of yesterday into the drains, dirtied water swirling at his feet. Scrape any trace of the wildness with soap and scalding, hot water. Keep at it, until the knot in his chest unraveled finally. Dean stiffens. Someone brushed his arm. Cas squeezes, whispering, “Are you going to shower?” He nods. Steps forward, and again. And collapses at the mouth of the shower, scrabbling for the curtain and ripping it from the rod. Dean gasps, the harsh sound echoing in the room, and curls in on himself. The cheap plastic crinkles and sticks to his skin, blanketing his thighs. One of the metal rings completely tore and now digs into his stomach. Cas calls for him, but his voice is distant. “We can start anew once your transformation is complete. I can hear it inside you, Dean. There’s a killer in there waiting to be unchained. Let me free you from the prison society forced you in, allow your true self to roam free in its glory and power. You’ll be my right hand in my new pack. All that’s left, is for you to break the final lock…” “Dean, Dean I need you to say something,” Cas presses a warm hand into his back, kneading the clammy skin. “Please… I know not to hope for anything good but at least tell me you’re here, with me.” “I’m here,” he murmurs, “I’m… I’m here.” More of a reminder than an answer. Dean blinks, leaving the acrid stench of death for faint, lemon cleanser. Shadows and dim lighting for humming fluorescents. False promises for strong foundations. “I’m here,” Dean says again, sliding his hand from the curtains to Cas’s, the other hanging at his side. Squeezes at his wrist. “Thanks.”

#spntc promo #spntc #supernatural trope celebration #destiel

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years ago

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Four of Swords

Destiel, 7.1k, M, Ao3 link

Super happy I can finally share what me and my amazing partner, @maleyah-givemetomorrow, cooked up for the @supernaturaltropecelebration

Hope you all enjoy! (story below, but if you go to ao3 there’ll be pretty pictures - I definintely recommend viewing them and showing love to the artist!)

Dean might crave escape, but it's not something he thinks he can have. Something he deserves, even. After his and Sam's most recent hunt, this cancerous feeling has grown heavy and weighs him down. He cannot escape on his own, as best he tries.

Luckily a guardian 'former angel' angel swoops in at his lowest. Helps pick up the pieces as best he can and lovingly put them back together. But he can only do so much. The rest is up to Dean.

Can Dean take those final steps, say those final words, and finally free himself?

His leg bounces, foot playing with the pedal while forcing the speedometer past its limits. Fingers squeeze the wheel tight enough he knows will leave permanent indents in the leather. Dean feels, more acutely than ever, how small his car’s interior is. Her cabin walls closing in around like the Death Star’s trash compacter. Aided by Sam’s ever-present stare, weighted by all the questions Dean will not let him ask. Forbade with a shake of his head and a rough flick of the ignition.

The sun creeps past the horizon, morning rudely greeting them. Beams of light pierce the glass, its glare interfering with his driving. Dean swings a heavy paw up towards the visor and pulls down, hard. It blocks most of the sun but gives Dean a worse distraction.

His gaze strays from the road to the tiny mirror embedded within the visor. Bounces around the borders of his face, studying the features and additions. Green eyes burdened with purplish bags. Dirt smudged around his hairline, disappearing into his short, mussed locks. Scratches peppered his cheeks like freckles, and the dried blood around his lips looks almost comical. Like he overlined them with an ugly shade of lipstick, clownlike and surreal.

“You’re drifting.”

Sam tugs the wheel closer, straightening their car. Dean wills back the discomfort of having Sam’s hand covering his. Of the memory, hours ago, where their layered hands held different context. Pushing. Praying. Reaching for a spark of Dean that nearly drowned and was lost forever. He shakes his head, focusing on the road again. “Thanks,” he says once his brother’s hand drifted away.

They reach the Bunker minutes later, Dean parking between the green Hudson and silver Chrysler. Both collecting dust. Dean checks his phone – 8:34 a.m. 3 missed calls, 8 unanswered texts. He swipes for the message thread, not reading any of the grey bubbles and typing a simple message. Back. Then Dean drops it in an empty cupholder and lays his head on the wheel.

Exhaustion drips along his bones like slime, filling the spaces between joints. His muscles broadcast their pain in full stereo, working in tandem with his brain. Each twinge a reminder of what happened. What he did and what he almost became.

Someone howls. It is far, but familiar. It sounds like – home? Belonging? Right? More noise, this time closer. Snarling. Snarling and growling. His jaw shudders and bends, reforming. A fire crackles under his skin, urging him forward. Follow the call. Follow the scent. Smell that, hear that, it is all so… pure. Free. You are free. Trust your instincts.

“Fuck,” he hisses. Dean presses his dirty nails into his palms, a reminder of their usual bluntness. Definitely not sharp enough to pierce the skin. He can’t hurt anyone else with them. “Fuck…”

Sam shifts at his side, hovering. Worrying. “Dean –“

“Not now, Sammy,” he says. Dean sucks in a large breath, fixing his armor. Raises his head off the steering wheel, staring out the window. “I’m not ready, not yet.” He wasn’t ready when they watched the barn disappear behind them, burning, smoke drifting into the starless night. When they stopped at the motel so Sam could collect their stuff while Dean idled in the parking lot. When Sam exploded halfway between Denver and Cheyenne, drool wet on his chin, and still unprepared when he apologized minutes later.

He didn’t deserve his damned forgiveness.

“Just…” Dean breathes, shivering, “go.”

The car door opens and shuts with soft clicks. Dean watches his brother stumble over half-asleep legs to the exit, Sam’s gait heavy and awkward. He pauses under the archway. His head tilts slowly right, and Dean tears his eyes from the rearview mirror. Dean counts the beats of his heart, waiting. After thirty he checks the rearview and Sam is gone.

Flinging himself out the car, Dean falls on hands and knees while his stomach revolts. He coughs, splutters, and heaves with all the force he can muster. There’s not a lot in his stomach but it surges up, splattering against the floor. Mixes with the blood and dirty already staining his fingers. His nausea passes the crest and recedes, body nearly purged. He spits into the bile, running his tongue over the waxy film coating his teeth. Gross, but not enough. The taste lingers.

Right there. Follow the fear, the rapid breathing – babumbabumbabumbabum. There is sweetness in victory, in the thrill of chasing. No escape, only death. Screams cut short when you tear through the throat. Chestnut fur matted with blood, goes down smooth. Delicious. Filling.

Dean winces at the mess. “Not cleaning that up,” he says, “at least not now.” With his remaining strength, Dean drags his body up. Leans on his car for a moment, then walks away with the door still open and with bags in the trunk. He cannot remember if he left the key in the ignition, nor does he care if he did.

There are more pressing matters that need attending.

He wanders with intention, drifting past rows of doors until he reaches the shower room. Dean turns, slowing to a shuffle and then a full stop once halfway inside. Head bowed, he focuses on the contrast between his mud-caked boots and the pristine tiles ruined by his intrusion. Squints and sees a twig lodged in the loop of his lace. Looks closer and sees a small pawprint left immortalized on the material.

In one bite the head tears completely off, blood spurting up from the severed neck. Sprays his face while he chews. Dean smiles, teeth catching the droplets and licking them clean off. He greedily stuffs the rest of its small body into his mouth, then licks his hands. Uncurling from the forest floor, he continues on. There is a call he needs to answer.

Dean hears the twig snap while clawing at the laces. He throws his left boot to the side, followed by his right. Peels his socks off and does the same. The second round of dizziness descends as the cool floor coaxes a more measured response from him. Sighing, Dean closes his eyes and continues stripping.

Even blind, Dean knows what he throws away. A yellow plaid button-down ripped across the back. Brown t-shirt crusty with dried blood all over the front. Jeans camouflaged in various stains, held up by a belt that worked in saving him from succumbing. And underwear that, while clean, were rather unwanted in the moment.

Goosepimples rise along the blades of his shoulders, rushing up his neck and over his back. Dean shakes, crosses his arms and tucks his chin against his chest. “Come on,” he says, bouncing on his feet, “In and out… you’ll feel much better.” He steps forward and then returns to where he was. “You’ll feel better and clean and – and like yourself again.”

“This is who you were truly meant to be…” His voice purrs, sparks firing off pleasurably in his brain. A rough tongue licks up his neck, and Dean nuzzles the hand petting his cheek. “Who we were always meant to be… give into your instincts, my pet. Give into yourself…”

Dean rakes his gaze over the other man’s body. At the scruff in serious need of shaving, unkempt along his jaw and overrunning his neck. The oversized t-shirt, tie-dyed in various shades of oranges, reds, and yellows. A graphic from a Led Zeppelin album ironed on from a collection Dean found at a garage sale, given over because the angel reminded him of Cas. His shirt’s hem overhangs and covers half of the shorts he wears, hairy calves fully on display.

A year into humanity and Dean marvels at how he stays so heavenly.

“No,” he says, “don’t feel much like sleeping…” Then Dean drifts his focus away from the other man and back to the shower stalls. Empty and waiting. In a few seconds he could wash the entirety of yesterday into the drains, dirtied water swirling at his feet. Scrape any trace of the wildness with soap and scalding, hot water. Keep at it, until the knot in his chest unraveled finally.

Dean stiffens. Someone brushed his arm. Cas squeezes, whispering, “Are you going to shower?”

He nods. Steps forward, and again. And collapses at the mouth of the shower, scrabbling for the curtain and ripping it from the rod. Dean gasps, the harsh sound echoing in the room, and curls in on himself. The cheap plastic crinkles and sticks to his skin, blanketing his thighs. One of the metal rings completely tore and now digs into his stomach. Cas calls for him, but his voice is distant.

“We can start anew once your transformation is complete. I can hear it inside you, Dean. There’s a killer in there waiting to be unchained. Let me free you from the prison society forced you in, allow your true self to roam, empowered in its glory and righteousness. You’ll be my right hand in my new pack. All that’s left, is for you to break the final lock…”

“Dean, Dean I need you to say something,” Cas presses a warm hand into his back, kneading the clammy skin. “Please… I know not to hope for anything good but at least tell me you’re here, with me.”

“I’m here,” he murmurs, “I’m… I’m here.” More of a reminder than an answer. Dean blinks, leaving the acrid stench of death for faint, lemon cleanser. Shadows and dim lighting for humming fluorescents. False promises for strong foundations. “I’m here,” Dean says again, sliding his hand from the curtains to Cas’s, the other hanging at his side. Squeezes at his wrist. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” Cas huffs, sizing Dean up. He shrinks under his gaze, conscious of how he must look. “Do you want to –“

“No.”

Cas nods, as if expecting it. “You want to clean yourself up?” Dean shrugs. He clucks, fingers skimming his hairline on a wide rub. “Look as if you’ve glued yourself to the underside of your car and had Sam drive across any backroads he found.” The joke inspires Dean’s dimples to appear, and Cas’s overly proud smile forces a small chuckle. “Are you able to stand?”

“I think I can manage…” Dean winces, the plastic shower curtain peeling off him. Cas keeps his face steady, not even a flicker of interest in peeking as it falls, when Dean exposes himself. A superficial wound. Fortunately Cas’s hand on his back and the other, now holding his, stay and help him up. He wobbles on shaky legs but won’t fail. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Cas tells him, thumb tickling his pulse point, “do you want me to give you privacy?”

He swallows his tongue. Or rather, something living inside his throat snatches it and prevents him from speaking. Dean glances at the shower, dread crawling forth once more. The scant space between him and the handle stretches, vision tunneling. He wants nothing more, if only the thought of it didn’t paralyze him. Cas murmurs at his side. “What?” he chokes out.

“I might have an idea,” Cas says, “that is… if you’re okay with me seeing you like… like this?”

Dean raises a wry brow. “Does it matter?” he asks, “You already have.”

“Just being polite…” Cas moves away from him, Dean following for a beat until he stops himself. The other man looks to the door, than at him. He scoops his forgotten towel, dumped on the floor at some point in the past few minutes, and offers it to him. “Here.”

“Like I said, Cas –“

“I know,” he interrupts, “but I doubt you want to walk the halls like that, where at any point Sam could stumble on you and… assume.” A hell of an assumption. Favorable too, he thinks. Dean blushes and bites his lip. He accepts the towel, lazily wrapping it around his waist. Not bothering to tuck it, holding it with his hands so they wouldn’t hang without purpose. Cas finally dips his gaze towards his crotch and relaxes. “Okay,” he says, “follow me.”

They leave the shower room, Dean practically hitting Cas’s heels with how closely he trails the other man. Enough that he could swing his arm and accidentally brush his hip. He won’t, though the possibility is tempting.

It’s not a far enough walk for that.

Cas turns the corner and leads Dean to the second door on the right. “I found this awhile back, early on in our stay here and carried it to this room one day when you were out.” He opens it for him, gesturing inside with a lackluster flourish. “Glad I did, don’t know how I would have managed without my angel strength.”

Dean steps inside, searching. There is not much waiting for him. Smaller than most rooms, he can imagine it being a closet with ease. Spots the tiny holes where screws must have been. Hidden in the outlines of where shelves once were. “Didn’t know you were handy.”

“I learn fast.”

“I’ll say,” Dean says, “plumbing’s a bitch to do.” He smirks at the large, stainless steel faucet. There’s another outline underneath against the wall that marks where a sink used to be. Removed so the porcelain, clawfoot tub can rest. “You take baths?”

“When I can,” Cas tells him, “I find it very healing. Even when I could mend broken bones and turn jagged cuts into flawless, smooth skin with my grace, I found myself drifting here every now and then, sitting for a soak.”

Dean taps at the rim of the bathtub, pouting. “And you brought me here, thinking I want to…” He doesn’t finish, instead studying the other man. Watches how the innocent question rocks the boat of his good intentions. Cas pouts, folds his arms and scuffs his toe on the floor. Dean softens, “Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome,” he shifts, turning his back, “Now, do you want to get in? I find that when you twist the handle on the right, the water is warmer.”

He waits. Panic rises, thinking Cas might leave. Worse that he can’t find it in him to ask that he stay. But then Cas settles, staring at the closed door. Dean smiles and starts the faucet.

When the bathtub is halfway full Dean climbs in. His knees poke from up out of the water, too tall to stretch his legs. He slides in further, so the water laps at his chin and more leg is on display. Already it fogs over, a filmy layer swirling on the surface. Dean cups some of the water and splashes it on his face, all too aware of much red drips. “I’m as decent as I can be,” he calls, splashing.

Cas sighs. “How does it feel?”

“S’nice,” he shrugs, “Not that I get to do this often but…” Dean sees Cas walk over, grabbing at a nearby bucket. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Cas says, dropping the bucket. He kneels, presenting a washcloth and a soap bar he must have pulled from below.

“Aw, no Cas,” Dean starts, sliding into a low crouch. Braced on the edges of the bathtub. “You don’t have to –“

“Please, Dean,” Cas whispers. Two fingers rest over his knuckles, feather light and barely there. “Let me do this for you… after what you must have gone through…”

Dean will not break his staring contest with his navel, sure that if he glanced in Cas’s direction another episode like the one in the shower room will happen. “Fine,” he mutters, plopping back into the tub and spraying Cas with a few errant drops. “If you want, go right ahead.” His arms encircle his knees, stricken expression hidden. Sitting in the center of the bathtub, Dean never felt so small.

Cas carries on wordlessly. Runs the soap under the faucet before turning it off. It’s filled to about a few inches from the rim, any sudden movement able to cause a good spill. Which is why Cas talks him through the steps. Like a skittish animal, provoked at the tiniest snap of a twig or rustling leaves.

Defenseless. Unaware. Fattening itself for the lucky prey that happens across it. His lips peel back for his teeth to appear, spit dripping from them. His fingers lead him forward, nails glinting when the moonlight breaks through the foliage and hits them. One clumsy step and what sounds like a gunshot echoes in his ears. It stops. Then it sprints off. So does he, a fraction of a second later. The chase begun. He huffs, he smiles, he growls. Hungry.

Dean hisses when the cloth rubs over a badly healed wound, reopening it. “Sorry,” Cas says, dabbing the spot again and pouring some water from a cupped hand over the skin. “I didn’t see – I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Cas.” He offers a wobbly smile, shrugging. “It’s okay.”

Cas grimaces, Dean staring on the thin, chapped line. Better than blue spotlights running across his face. Soon his lips smooth into something more neutral, and Cas resets.

He focuses on how the washcloth feels, Cas lathering soap across him. Doesn’t fight when he grabs Dean’s arm and holds it up, running the fabric over and leaving soap bubbles in its track. There’s a jagged cut slashed across his knuckles from a misplaced lunge. Cas, prepared, gently dabs at it. His hold is firm and touch careful.

Too careful. Too caring. The special treatment makes his skin crawl. Dean winces again as Cas drags the washcloth along his shoulder blades and onto his other arm. “Sensitive?” Cas asks, because he notices. Add too observant, too. “Days like these make me miss my powers.”

Dean snorts, “So you could fly on out of here without any problems?” That escapes easier than he would like. He curses under breath, sneaking a peek at Cas. Like Dean expected, Cas’s expression makes his heart sink into his stomach. “Shit, sorry…”

“I don’t need wings to ‘fly on out of here’,” he says, “if I wanted, I could get on a plane tomorrow.” Cas finishes lathering his arm and soaps his chest. Rubs the washcloth over and over his tattoo. Its ink vibrating erratically because of his words, the possibility, and Cas’s closeness “The operative term being wanted. What I want right now is… well, I want you to not feel any pain.”

But he should. It’s all he should feel. Dean deserves the pain. For yesterday, what he almost did. For now, what he callously said to Cas. For years and years of causing so much hurt and enjoying it and taking pride in it. He should drown in all this pain. Instead he has an angel bathing him in kindness.

He tries every day to be better than his darkest moment. When he and Cas stared across at each other, fully ruptured. Dean throwing more dynamite into the divide until the ground crumbled beneath their feet and the landscape of their relationship was unrecognizable. After Purgatory he made a promise. His pain should remain with him, not forced into the hands of others.

Some days they wriggle, others they slip. Dean tries every day. If only every day, he succeeded.

Cas washes his face, leaning half over the tub so there’s barely a breath of space between them. A simple turn and their noses brush together. He cannot do more than breath, sharp puffs out his mouth. Sometimes muffled when Cas wipes at the dried blood marking the skin around it.

It’s too much.

“I almost killed Sam.” Cas pauses, frozen at the corner of Dean’s lips. Some of the soap drips into his mouth, and he can taste it. “Yesterday, on the hunt I… I almost killed him.”

His brain steams ahead, thinking how Cas might wish for the plane ticket now that he knows. Imagines him dropping the washcloth into his hands and leaving without a word. Again, wiping his hands of Dean’s garbage and climbing out the hole before any more shovels in to bury him.

Instead Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, smiling. “Tell me what happened.”

His walls crumble immediately. Dean savors the touch while he begins his story. Cas already knew the beginning – driving into a town beset by murders, where killers left heartless bodies for the police. Rolled in with the script memorized, asking all the right questions. Found the pack’s den and attacked. “We said we got all of them,” Dean sighs, ducking his head, “but that wasn’t the whole truth.”

The leader escaped. They only realized it when counting the bodies, battle too confusing that losing track of one werewolf in a dozen was unavoidable. Risky in their line of work, but a quick perimeter search kicked up no trace of him. Dean and Sam closed the case, driving off to the motel and licking their wounds.

“I was careless, or… or I don’t know, didn’t think much of it but…” Dean holds his arm up and looks at it. There’s no mark on the skin, but he traces the bite from memory. “Got me when I wasn’t looking. By the time I knew what was happening it was like I… like something had come over me. I heard howling and I tore off after it. Sam coming back to an empty motel room with a broken lock.”

If he stays too long in his memories, he will lose himself in them again. Racing through the woods with newfound agility and grace. Jumping, launching himself over fallen trees and boulders. What it felt like ripping apart the first woodland creature he crossed paths with. The soapy taste in his mouth turns sour.

“The leader was crazy… had this whole philosophy that I believed because he said it and all I could think was how much I trusted him. Thinking was too difficult while all fanged out and slobbering and – and so when he said to trust my ‘instincts’ I… I bared my neck. His instincts were my instincts. By that point Sammy snuck in, and – well protect is a pretty strong instinct.”

Sam plead, rallying all his strength so Dean’s claws wouldn’t eviscerate him. Dean straddled his brother, raging. Spat on him while gnawing for his neck. The last werewolf cheering Dean on. “Free yourself of your human burdens and join me in total freedom!” he sang, “Eat of his heart and you will be mine forever!”

“You don’t want this Dean,” Sam said, struggling. The syringe nearby looking damaged but not completely broken. “I know you. Fight him!”

Dean growled, “Want… want free… want blood!”

Sam sneered, tightening his grip on Dean’s wrists. He shifted and kicked Dean off. Dean flipped, landing on his back. They both scrambled upright, not wasting any time. With misguided fury Dean pounced for Sam, his brother twisting at the right second. Their fight continued in that fashion. Sam dodging Dean’s attacks, the latter growing more frustrated and sloppier.

Exactly what Sam planned.

Dean dove and smacked into a wall, knocking the breath from him. Stunned, Sam dove for his belt and slipped it over some exposed pipe. Not knowing any better, lost within the wolf, Dean struggled helplessly until brute strength won.

By the time Dean ripped the pipe from the wall Sam killed his sire. Injected Dean with the cure when he scurried towards the corpse and mourned. When all traces of his bite left Dean’s system, he mourned again. Sam standing overhead, watching, unable to lay a hand on his shoulder lest Dean bite at it in his familiar defensiveness.

“So Sam is fine?”

He bristles at the placid tone. Unbothered. Like Dean mentioned some off-hand piece of gossip that he happened across while scrolling through his phone. “Yeah,” Dean says harshly, “but I… I almost did him in. Nearly ate his heart before skipping off with some werewolf Charles Manson to start another werewolf cult and...”

Cas raises a brow. “And?”

Processing the events aloud help him realize how wildly he overreacted. How Sam clearly held no anger towards him for being on the menu. How there’s no reason for the inky sadness clinging to his heart and soul that makes him feel bad.

Except it’s there, and having no reason makes it even worse.

“And…” he fumbles, “And I think I’m getting too old for this.” Dean huffs, sinking against the bathtub while Cas continues petting him. “I’ve been doing this for what? Nearly forty years? That was how it’s going to end… Because I let that werewolf creep bite me and nearly turn me into his slave? Kind of makes everything I said about free will look like I pulled it from my ass.”

Cas chuckles, laying the washcloth on the porcelain rim. He pulls back, laying both arms along the edge and resting on it. Smirking, “No one will call you a hypocrite because you were under the influence of a werewolf bite.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean sighs, “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

“If I’ve learned anything from my time on Earth – from you – is that sometimes we have our off days,” Cas says, “We have to forgive ourselves for them.”

“Maybe if I tripped and scratched Baby’s paint or-or took a risk on some leftovers I don’t remember, sure,” he scoffs, “but when it comes to hunts… an off day can easily become my last day. Hunters don’t get off days. Heroes don’t… don’t…” He digs his nails into his knee, willing away the waterfall hovering around the edges of his eyes.

“Well, as true as that is, the fact you were able to see the sun rise means yesterday definitely wasn’t your last day.” The faint traces of humor in his tone barely lifts the corners of Dean’s mouth. Cas sighs. A few droplets splashing at Dean’s exposed leg, his hand now gently splashing the water. “I stand by what I said. Yes, you could’ve been more observant during your battle. And more conscious of your injuries. Then neither you nor Sam would still carry what should have been a simple hunt on your shoulders.” Mentioning it makes his shoulders sag further. “But then again, I could be beating myself for staying here watching Netflix while you and Sam got your hands dirty –“

“You kidding, Cas?” Dean bursts in, brows furrowed, “The Hell should you feel bad for?”

“A third set of eyes could’ve seen the werewolf escape – or stop him before he did… make sure you were checked over for serious injuries…” His fingers circle lazily, Cas’s mouth tugged down in a way that unsettles Dean’s stomach.

Dean sits straighter, glaring at the other man. “You needed the rest, Cas. After that ghoul tore your back up something fierce in Missoula? Even if you knew you could do something, I’d still have kept you –“ The tirade cuts short, Cas’s prideful smirk stealing the words from him. He sinks into the water, so low that water hides his burning cheeks. Adjusts by fully removing his legs from the bathtub, bracing his feet on the wall. Faucet between them.

Cas chuckles, rustling Dean’s hair. “See. Hindsight is only good for the future, to learn from our mistakes. Time is better spent in the present. Accepting that you did the best you could and… glad there are people who care about you, who will do anything to see you feel better.”

Dean looks up at Cas, the overhead bulb shining. Mimicking the effect of a halo. He lifts his chin enough to free his mouth. “I don’t know how you can put up with my stubborn ass.” I don’t know why I deserve you.

“I recall you calling my ass stubborn many times.” I don’t deserve you.

They always end up circling the drain. Never quite going in, a piece of hair clogging the passage. Right now, with Cas petting Dean’s hair and gazing into his eyes, Dean exposed under him in more ways than one, it cannot get any more tender. It’s still not enough.

At the top of the peak, you can only go off. They never jump.

Dean knew his reasons. When it felt like they could, there was never enough time. Something more pressing to deal with, a battle to fight. Always promising that when the moment was right, Dean would do something. But then when those moments came Dean and Cas were never there for them. Kept apart by circumstance, by death, by each other. Compelling. Dramatic. Completely frustrating.

But then Chuck vanished, he and Amara – light and darkness, creation and destruction – becoming one. Becoming entirely new. Blinked off into somewhere that Dean doesn’t care knowing about. As long as, on their way out, they cut the strings hanging over their heads.

It seemed like it. Life went on, as normal. Monsters needed hunting and beer needed drinking. Except there wasn’t anything more.

Hell stayed relatively calm with Rowena reorganizing it. Jack, seated on the throne of Heaven, brought a righteous humanity in his leadership. Even Billie took a holiday.

When the dust settled, Dean was ready for Cas to be on his way, too. One was offered.

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, eyes still aglow. Hand raised inches from Cas’s bloodied head. “I can give it all back to you. Give you more… you’d be the most powerful angel in my new Heaven. You can help me make it even better than it was.”

“Thank you, but… I think it’s time you left the nest, Jack,” Cas smiled, stepping back from him. “Heaven is in capable hands because they’re yours… I… we trust that you can do this without us.”

Jack nodded, light snuffed. He dove into Cas’s arms, then, hugging him. Then Sam, and finally Dean. “I’ll visit when I can,” he promised, trying not to cry.

Dean coughed, swiping a finger under his eye. “Soon!” he barked, “I don’t want to see you when I’m eighty!” Their laughter was bittersweet. Fully bitter when Jack disappeared with a flap.

Sam scuffed the ground, turning. “So,” he said, “what do we do now?” He scanned the area, Dean tracking the same space alongside him. At the scorched earth, barely recognizable from when they arrived. Green drained away and left lifeless, with a few serious scorch marks in certain areas. Like the one near a cracked mausoleum, where Chuck threw Cas. Where he held him by the neck and spit serious venom. Where he drained the little angel grace he had left and made him human again.

Cas clears his throat, drawing their attention. “After a shower and a change of clothes,” he said, “I think some sort of celebration. At home.”

Dean’s heart skipped over itself. “Home,” he repeated, “Yeah, I like that.”

Cas chose and chose again, and his choice never wavered. It was Earth. It was humanity. It was him, and it was home.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Cas asks, frowning, “what are you thinking?”

Dean rises somewhat. “I love you.” He would rather he weren’t naked, nor shaken from a hunt. And a forgotten supply closet with a dirty bathtub in it is hardly the number one place for a confession. But waiting for perfection screwed him over so many times.

“Oh,” Cas relaxes against the bathtub, sinking his hand back into the water, “is that all?”

Or maybe he should have kept waiting. Dean pouts, “I love you.”

“I know. You’re repeating yourself.”

“No, like…” he drags a wet hand over his face, “I love you. Like, I love you love you.”

Cas chuckles, light and carefree. Lines around his eyes crinkling in delight. “I know, Dean. I know.”

Dean gapes, chin slapping the surface of his bath. “You have?” Spurred into action by Cas’s growing laughter, Dean sinks his legs into the tub and sits up again. “For real?” The other man nods. “How long?”

Cas shrugs, “Awhile.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Joy retreats from Cas’s expression, leaving him somewhat guarded. He breaks with Dean’s stare. His hand glides through water and finds Dean’s leg. Strokes it. “I thought nothing needed to be said.”

Dean raises a brow, clicking his tongue. “So you were happy with…”

“I was content.”

He frowns, courage leaping up inside his chest and banishing the lingering traces of sadness and self-pity clinging inside his chest. “Well, I wasn’t,” Dean says. Waits for Cas to look at him again. “Do you know how many times we sat together and I wanted to hold your hand, but didn’t? Roll over on my bed and wake up next to you only to remember that you were down the hall? Sit in a diner and-and when the waitress came by I could say, ‘I’ll have this and my boyfriend will have that’ but was only able to order for myself? I won’t even mention the amount of times I wanted to kiss you because at this point I’ve lost count…”

Cas squeezes Dean’s thigh, lips stretched wide in a tight grin. “You want all of that?”

“And more. A hell of a lot more.”

“Then… late is better than never, I suppose.”

Dean blinks, “What?”

He resumes stroking his leg, smiling so openly all his teeth are on display. “I’m saying,” he continues, “that if you want to do all that, I find myself being… amenable. We can even start now.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asks, too experienced with his luck that he knows he needs more. “Is this what you want? You said you were –“

“Content,” he says, “But not happy. Doing all of what you described – and more – will make me very happy.”

Dean smiles, “Really?”

“Ecstatic.” It’s so deadpan, so blasé, and completely incongruent with the mood of the room that Dean cannot stop the snort escaping from his lips. Followed by hiccupped giggles and, finally, laughter that echoes in the tiny space. Joined by Cas, their voices swell to fill the room. Until Dean snatches Cas’s collar with his wet fist and drags him in for a kiss. Closes his eyes and savors the taste of the other man, taking note of every sensation he guessed right and scribbling over what he got wrong with the parts he never could have imagined.

In the midst of their makeout session, when Cas presses their foreheads together and laughs about not needing a shower after all. Because Dean hauled him into the bathtub with him despite protests, water leaking onto the floor. When he can, without guilt, lose himself in Cas’s eyes, Dean remembers the werewolf from yesterday. Remembers what he thought freedom meant, and how the monster hadn’t the first clue what it actually was.

Freedom is not power. Freedom is being yourself. Freedom is the ability to show others the deepest parts of yourself and have them stay and love you for it. Freedom is acceptance.

Freedom is the way Cas’s fingers scratch at the nape of his neck. Freedom is Cas pressing lazy kisses against his cheek. Freedom is the way their feet knock into each other on the edge of the porcelain bathtub.

Dean, for the first time in his life, feels free.

Epilogue:

Midnight is a terrible hour to crave bacon. Time cannot stop Dean’s watering mouth or his growling stomach. He disentangled himself from Cas and blindly pieced together an outfit that, in the hallway’s clinical lighting, included his cowboy pajama bottoms, Cas’s dried shirt, and his robe. Dean shrugs and carries on his way towards the kitchen, hoping for a quick trip.

Seeing Sam hunched over at the table crushes that idea. He perks up at Dean’s entrance, faltering. Rises for a second before thinking better, instead fiddling with his coffee mug. “Dean.”

“…Sam.” Unsure, Dean’s own hands run rampant. Closes the robe and hides Cas’s shirt, tying a neat, little bow and securing it tighter. Then he unravels it and lets the robe swing open like curtains. “What’re you doing up?”

He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep anymore. You?”

“Hungry.” Dean winces, the image of Sam struggling underneath him flashing into view. It fades almost as instantly as it arrived, replaced with a more annoyed looking brother. Mouth pulled taut like a bowstring, aimed and ready. Dean glances at the mug for safety. “You make enough for the class?”

“Check the pot.”

Shuffling over he sees more than enough coffee inside for him. So, he pulls out two mugs and prepares them. Three teaspoons of sugar in one, four tablespoons in the other. A dash of milk on the left, because Cas thinks it muddies the taste of the coffee. “Thanks.”

“Dean…”

His tone draws a quiet sigh from Dean. Settles the hunger that dominated his stomach and replaces it with a slight nausea. “Sam,” he says, “can you not…”

“We need to talk about it,” Sam continues, “Please, Dean, I –“

“We will.”

Sam pauses, stunned. Dean turns around and tamps down the laugh bubbling up. Hard given how rare Sam’s jaw drops so far. In the blink of an eye Sam shakes his surprise off. “What?”

“We will,” Dean repeats, leaning on the counter, “I promise. I just… I’m not ready, yet.”

It’s not the best answer. Sam doubts him, evident by the gleam in his eye. And the follow up, “Are you ever gonna be ready?”

His eyes never strayed from Dean’s face. If he dropped his gaze a few inches Sam would see Cas’s shirt. But he didn’t. Dean can rewrap the robe and pretend it’s not on him.

Except Dean hadn’t the urge. Instead he draws attention to it, rubbing the hem between his fingers. “Hopefully soon… Cas and I had a good talk and – and well, maybe in the morning I might be okay enough that we can sit and talk about it, or whatever…”

Sam finally looks at his shirt. Then at Dean with a subtle awe. He braces for an onslaught of feelings, exactly what Dean tried avoiding. Why he thought using Cas as a distraction from talking about those was a moment of delirium. Dean sips at his mug, hiding ruddy cheeks behind the rim.

Thankfully Sam says nothing. Instead mirroring his sip. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean nods, drumming his fingers on the counter. There’s kindness in how Sam offers the escape tunnel, even though so much is brewing under the surface. A rarity that Dean never expected. He should take it.

But there’s more. Dean figures ripping the band-aid off all at once is better than peeling it and feeling every single hair torn from his arm.

“I think I’m gonna stop hunting,” he says. Sam spits a mouthful of coffee into his mug, choking. “For a while,” Dean quickly explains, “Like, maybe a few months?”

Coughing, Sam wipes at his lips. “Is this because of the werewolf hunt?”

“Yes?” Dean says, “No – I mean… Look, it’s not because I’m too scared to get back into the game because of what happened but I am kind of… skittish?” He frowns, staring at the light brown pool in his hands. “Like I’m running on empty and… and I don’t think I have enough in the tank. That’s what happened yesterday, but thank God there was a little more in yours to get me to the next rest stop! Who knows what might happen on the next one so I… I’m making the adult decision and taking myself out of the game before the big loss.” Dean gulps at his coffee, throat suddenly dry. “But not forever,” he adds, “Long enough to sort things out… do the stuff we said we were gonna do when the Chuck mess ended. Maybe go on a road trip or, ah… give Cas a proper first date –“

“First date?” Sam croaks, a tiny snort escaping, “Think you two’ve past that by a few years. Third honeymoon, maybe.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yuck it up… but I’m not the only one who can use this opportunity to focus on important things… things that you’ve been neglecting… when’s the last time you and Eileen had any quality time together?” Sam answers with a blush. “Thought so… at least I’ve had two honeymoons, or so you think.”

“Shut up,” Sam huffs, drinking his coffee again. His gaze drifts from Dean over to the door, and the fluster drains off his face. Replaced with a more gleeful expression, lips curling. “Hey Cas,” he sings, “how’s it going?”

Dean accepts all the awkward energy Sam shed. His grip on the coffee mug falters when he sees Cas. Dressed in a stolen pair of sweatpants and nothing else. “Sam, Dean,” he yawns, shuffling closer. Cas squints at the untouched mug on the counter, “Is this for me?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, handing it over, “just the way you like.” Cas purrs, kissing Dean’s cheek before sipping. Sam's chuckles accompany his approval. “It wasn’t too much of a problem…”

“So, Cas,” Sam starts, “what got you out of bed?”

Cas scratches his head and presses against Dean. Slides an arm around Dean’s waist. “Pee,” he says, “and then I noticed Dean wasn’t there so…” If Cas didn’t drive the point home clear enough Dean would worry after his brother’s intelligence. He feels Cas’s chin rest on his shoulder. “Why did you get up?”

Dean gestures at the stove. “Hungry.”

“Hmm… I can eat.” Cas taps on Dean’s stomach, pushing off. He moves and joins Sam at the table. “Whatever you were going to make yourself, make double?”

“Triple?” Sam adds, “All this talk of food is making me hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Dean flicks the stove on, dropping the pan on the active burner. His hunger returned, aided by the easy conversation flowing between the three. Cas settles across from Sam asking a question about something he read. The conversation quickly devolves into nerd speak, Dean throwing quips in every few seconds.

He lays a strip of bacon down, and then another one. And another one. Greases a second pan and cracks an egg on the surface, tossing one half of the shell at Sam and the next half at Cas. They retaliate by pelting him when he retreats to the refrigerator for more bacon. Dean doesn’t care that they hit, nor that he steps on one and has to spend time between the eggs frying and the bacon cooking to pick pieces of eggshell off his heel. What he cares about sits giggling at the table, watching while he cleans.

Dean is happy.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural trope celebration 2020 #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #castiel

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we-shyrebelbouquet-love-blog · 7 years ago

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Amazing Discount Curtain Rods Amazing Discount Curtain Rods | Howdy beloved visitor. In search of unique concepts is among the most fun actions but it can as well be bored when we might not obtain the wanted ideas.

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50-points-for-ravenclaw · 5 years ago

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oh god y’all i went on the target website to look for some curtains for my bedroom (cuz like the sun is always in my face when i get home from work) and like i found a cute set and curtain rod for $75 (which is actually cheap for the size i need and they were on sale) but i made the mistake of looking at other stuff on sale and i found a cute comforter set with 2 shams, a decorative pillow, and throw blanket for $45 (!!!) and i want it but i already spent $75 and help get me off this website

#like i could just put it on my credit card i guess???#will i ever pay that thing down #the answer is no #i really want it #i've been looking for a good comforter i actually like #fuck i'm gonna buy it #save my wallet #at least i got 3 paychecks this month #life reports

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foxesareforbiddencats · 5 years ago

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The Roommate Chronicles

Part 4.

Alright. So after our annoying trip to Hy-vee we go home and I grill some burgers. I brought out the buns and he looked at them and went 'wtf are those'

I said hamburger buns

He said no they're not.

Uh. Yeah. They are Juan.

No. They're not organic and dont have seeds on top.

OH MY JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THEY WERE 8 FOR $1.29 THEY WERE ON SALE AND FRESH FROM THE BAKERY THEYRE REAL HAMBURGER BUNS LEAVE IT ALONE. IF YOU DONT WANT ONE EAT YOUR BURGER WITH A FORK.

He laughs at me. Asshole.

So we go in and eat our burgers. He has a couple beers. I have 3. He falls asleep during our movie while I take a test and do some classwork, wakes up, drinks 3 more. He suddenly realizes he doesnt have time to go to Walmart with me Friday akf he wants ice cream so we gotta go to Walmart. Or he can go to walmart alone.

Well I'm sober so I'll drive. Hes leaning towards tipsy is better if I drive. So we drive to the next town to go to Walmart. We end up at Menards for 45 minutes and he gets an overpriced shower curtain rod. That's it. We discuss furniture and hardware and he asks what I think would look good in the house and suggestions on remodel and what I want.

I'm just renting I dont really feel it should be up to me but eh.

So we go to walmart. I want a 20 gallon bucket. That's all I need. I want to cut a hole in it, put the litterbox and the cat bowls in there so that the dog stays out of it and it stops smelling up the house.

Idk what he wants.

So we're walking down the ailses of walmart at 11 PM. He stops by the pillows and sees one and gets super excited because it's so squishy and shoves it in my face. He asked what I thought of it and I said 'it is nice. But it's also $20-40 per pillow depending on the size and firmness. But theres like $5 pillows right there and too of those are essentially the same feeling.

He is so shocked. Why on earth would I buy cheap pillows?

Um. I have 4 pillows. 2 of them were like $1 each and 2 of them were hand me downs. Apparently that was unacceptable because he insisted that I get one, put it in the cart. Later I put it back with the other pillows and it magically ended up in the cart again so we have matching pillows. We get a few more things. A shower mat, a toilet paper holder, a pasta pot, some random stuff. Then he says he needs shampoo.

Aight. So we go down to that part of Walmart and he stops by the dandruff shampoo and picks up a $30 bottle of shampoo???!!! I was like you do realize there is a $7 bottle of the same stuff with different packaging right there. Look at the ingredients. They. Are. The. Same. This one even smells like eucalyptus.

But the other one works so well.

THIS ONE WORKS TOO. okay. Fine. You know what? It's not my money. It's not my money. I dont have to budget and make sure there's enough money. It's not mine. It's fine.

He asks of I need any. I say I have some. He knows I have travel size bottles and I end up with $7 shampoo because that's the most I can let him spend without losing my shit. Then its razors. I admit I could use a razor and I pick up the 10 pack for 94 cents. We argue. I get 4 razors for $6. Then it's the toothbrushes. Hes looking at $200 electric toothbrushes?!?!?!? WHY. YOU HAVE TO REPLACE IT IN 6 TO 12 MONTHS WHY SPEND 200 BUCKS ON A FUCKING TOOTHBRUSH. I GET MINE FOR FREE

Apparently I shouldnt have said that. Free toothbrushes arent acceptable I guess. The toothbrush I get from the dentist every visit isnt good enough. Neither is the one from my therapist, or the $1 one right in front of us. Or the $3 one. No. He buys me a $5 electric toothbrush in pink and gets the matching blue one. This is considered a compromise and hes now very excited we have matching toothbrushes.

He then gives me shit on the way home for driving 5 over the speed limit, eating ice cream, and using my reading light on the rearview mirror, none of which I can get a ticket for... really dude chill.

Upon discussing this with a friend, I have been told he sounds like a sugar daddy.

I dont know how to feel about this.

It disturbs me.

I'm very gay. I love my girlfriend. We've dated for like 3 almost 4 years... I dont want a sugar daddy. Especially one that isnt my girlfriend.... Thoughts???

#wtf juan #juan #what do i tag this #distressed #youd save so much money #sugar daddy???#i dont need that rn #i dont need a $20 pillow or electric toothbrush either #is nothing good enough for you #is nothing sacred

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badbitchbigtits-blog · 6 years ago

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Solid Advice When Trying To Improve Your Home There is more to home improvement than just a hobby. It provides you a benefit to your pocketbook, too. Certain home improvements projects can make your home more valuable. This article should give you some tips on how to handle your next remodeling project. Increase the energy efficiency of your home by installing weather stripping all around your home's doors and windows. This helps to seal your home from hot and cold, improving your comfort level as well. You can also reduce the drafts you feel inside your home on windy, cold nights. If you are in a dwelling with limited space, and don't have the space for both a washer and dryer, think about buying a unit that combines the two together. A combo unit will take up about the same amount of space that a dishwasher would. The combo unit is really convenient, as it combines the wash and dry cycle into one. Small rooms can look dark and dull, but this can be changed. Let the sun shine in! Open blinds, tie back curtains and clean the glass thoroughly. Once you let the light shine through, you will be shocked at just how large a little room can appear. Keep your room free of clutter and paint the walls a pale color. All of a sudden, your small room will feel less cramped. An inexpensive way to update your bathroom is to purchase new accessories. It is possible to find a wide range of shower curtain rods, cabinetry pulls and towel racks to suit almost any taste. Quite often, you can find these fixtures in coordinating collections at your local home improvement store. Many packages can be installed in less than a day. Located above eye level and therefore out of mind, gutters, chimneys, and downspouts are often ignored during home improvement and maintenance projects. It is important to inspect these aspects of your home to make sure they are functioning properly, and to make any necessary repairs. Keeping your chimney free of debris is important to prevent fires from substances that might become trapped inside the chimney. Similarly, keeping your gutters free from debris will prevent water damage to your roof caused by the accumulation of water in rain gutters. It is a normal process for chair caning to sag after awhile. There is something you can easily do to fix this. You can wet the bottom of the sagging cane with a sponge. It works best with warm water. Allow the water to dry the caning overnight. Repeat this process until you know the caning is repaired to the fullest extent. If it is at all practical, do repair-type home improvement projects as soon as you notice a problem. Sometimes it seems much easier to turn a blind eye to the issue. You don't want to give into this impulse. A small issue can rapidly grow into a multifaceted and expensive problem. Before you know it, a little issue has turned into a major mess. When your next home improvement project involves landscaping work, you need to coordinate with the owners of adjacent properties about drainage. Whenever you improve your landscaping, one goal is to arrange for water to flow smoothly off of all points of your property. Though you may be tempted to simply drain onto the neighbors' lots, this could cause lots of problems. You can coordinate drainage plans, however it requires clear communication. Always seal the grout following the laying of the tile. Unfortunately, grout has lots and lots of open pores. If you forget to seal it, you can cause damage to the grout and tile by allowing moisture to enter, increasing the potential for mildew or mold. In addition, grout that isn't sealed will stain very easily. Thus, taking the time to seal the grouts means you'll save time and money in the long term. Solar lights are cost effective, but do not give off adequate light. If you want lights that highlight a walkway, consider electric models. They do cost more, but work better and for longer. These are just a few of the things you can do to improve your home. Continue learning so you can better your home improvement skills. Conducting the proper research beforehand can be the factor that makes a home improvement project successful. Make sure you thoroughly understand your next project before you tackle it.

Home Improvement Tips For The Not So Handy Person

As long as people have had homes, people have faced the challenge of home improvement. Everyone wants the best possible home. Keep reading to find out how you can make your home up to date.

Two-liter bottles can be used in your kitchen as storage containers. These bottles are clear and see-through and can protect virtually all your dry goods, including sugar and flour. You can store it in the freezer or refrigerator and even outside on a shelf. Just open and pour when you need to use the contents.

Creatively display your bracelets and necklaces using a mounted coat racks. Perhaps you should not hang your most valuable jewelery. A jewelry display will help to avoid tangles in your collection. Choose pieces you wear frequently and keep them where you can reach them.

Don't ever hire an unlicensed contractor. Contractors are required by law to have some certifications. Of course, this doesn't mean your contractor is competent, but is does show that he has the proper credentials. If a contractor isn't adequately licensed, you don't want to hire him.

Before you embark on a major landscape project, be sure the construction and style of your improvements enhance other aspects of your property, including your home. Integrating the look of the exterior of your home with the new landscaping project will ensure a pleasant result that you will be happy to live with over time.

If you have bought a home in an undeveloped area, or in the midst of a wooded area, consider installing a quality fence around the boundaries of your property. The improvements you make should be ones that are going to keep you and everyone in your home comfortable, while at the same time making your home look better.

A pergola can add style or character to your front door entrance. This can create a shaded garden area in your yard. They are even easy to put together, especially with the help of friends and family. Have a barbecue over the weekend, and turn it into a pergola building party.

Ask an electrician to install an outlet in the cupboard over where your microwave is. This will allow you to hide the cord needed to plug your microwave into the outlet. That is a safety issue that is easily resolved with this small improvement.

While you may think you have level kitchen floors, use your level when you install kitchen cabinetry, just in case. Ensure that counter tops will be all of one height by creating a bench mark that begins at the highest point of the kitchen floor.

Refinish your dining table to update your dining room. Although this takes time, refinishing it will make the old table appear like new. If you decide to take this on, work carefully so your finished project looks its best.

When your house is for sale, you should weigh the positives and negatives of owning a security alarm. However, if the home is in an unsafe neighborhood and it is vacant, you may need an alarm.

If you want a quick, easy makeover for your home, put new paneling on your walls. The benefit of this alteration is that the panels can easily be removed with little damage if the look that they create is not to your liking. You will have lost little in terms of time or expense either way.

Do you dislike paneling and painting? Think about using wallpaper. Using wallpaper is fairly cheap, and will give the room a refreshing new look. Although, you should be wary of the type of wallpaper that you select since removing certain kinds are more difficult than others.

Incorporate everything that comes to mind in your project budget. Unexpected expenses could add up quickly and a single mistake can mess it all up. Prevent that by having backup plans, and you will be better prepared to deal with any sudden changes, for instance if flooring you selected is not available.

Where will you find your inspiration when looking to make home improvements? It's important for you to be inspired before starting. The Internet and home decor magazines are great resources for finding fun and creative ideas. Visit a home improvement center for paint swatches, tile samples and other useful tools. Exploring your different options and figuring out which ones are best for your situation can make the project itself move a lot faster and more smoothly.

Good homework and planning puts any improvement project within your reach. It isn't necessarily simple. Many people begin a project enthusiastically, but learn later that it's more complex and costly than it appeared to be.

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nancypullen · 6 years ago

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Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

I get ideas. LOTS of ideas. If you need an idea, I have plenty that you can borrow. My husband would love it if you’d take some ideas off my hands. That’s because they often involve him and a screwdriver and/or a trip to Lowe’s. He thinks of things that I don’t consider...like what’s behind a wall or how much does that thing weigh? I’ll explain.

Over a year ago I dragged home a rickety, old shutter from a barn sale. It needed a home and I just knew that it would be perfect on a wall in the kitchen with recipes or photos clipped to it, or maybe over a headboard with a garland strung across it. I figured that I’d stare at it a while and it would tell me where it needed to go. Well, it clammed up and I ignored it until last week. I dragged it out and propped it up in the laundry room. My reasons were twofold...I tend to put all of my supplies on the window sill in that room which creates clutter. Also, that room has the electrical panel that is a necessary eyesore in any house. I wanted to use that window sill for some pretty potted herbs or succulents, and as it turns out that shutter is just wide enough to cover the ugly panel. This room is neglected. It’s where the cats do their business and where I moan about folding laundry.

I did a little measuring and ordered two wire baskets from Amazon.

Then I told the mister what I planned to do - attach the baskets to the shutter, hang the shutter over the panel, and create adorable laundry storage and free up that window sill. Genius, right? Nope. He immediately told me that I couldn’t drive a nail into the wall above that panel because there are bundles of wires behind it and yadda, yadda, electrocution, death, short out the whole house, and rain on my parade. Then he mentions that the shutter might not weigh all that much, but once it’s loaded down with my laundry supplies the hanging mechanism needs to support it and blah, bah, blah, I’m not a carpenter. You get the idea. BUT...because I am married to a wonderful man who likes to make my dreams come true, he got busy. He unscrewed the panel to see just where the wires were grouped, then he rummaged through his toolboxes and found just the right size sawtooth hanger, and then he even added brackets to the back of that loosey goosey shutter to make it stronger. While he was doing all of that he even took the time to screw the baskets on for me. Sure, my way would have taken fifteen minutes but we’d probably be dead and the house would be on fire. So once he did the construction part of things, I got to do the fun part - making it pretty. I raided my Ball jar stash in the garage and started filling jars with stuff I use daily. Tide Pods and Oxy-Clean pods...

Snuggle and dryer balls...

I picked up a pour cap for the liquid fabric softener and it’s a perfect fit.

Now everything is off that window sill and is both useful and decorative. Two of my favorite things!

Presto, change-o, no electric panel to be seen! If we ever need to access the panel, we’ll simply take those jars out and lift the shutter off its hanger. Easy Peasey. I absolutely LOVE it. The room still needs a little fluffing. For example, because of the location of that electric panel, the shutter is a tad higher than I would have liked it - but if I put a curtain rod over that window and hang a little lace valance I think it will balance it.

I don’t even care - that’s how much I love it. And while we’re on the topic of my laundry room, I’d like to share a little something that I love and can’t live without.

That little bottle makes most of my house smell divine. It really is smaller than it looks in this photo - maybe five or six inches tall. It’s a fragrance diffuser from Pier 1. I’ve used them for quite a while and they. are. fabulous. They offer a wide variety of scents, something for everyone. This one is Sea Air. I also love the Pink Champagne. In the fall I buy their spice cake and pumpkin fragrances. Mickey uses Moroccan Vanilla upstairs in his office. They last much, much longer than any other home fragrance I’ve tried and they don’t give me a headache like so many of the plug-ins and burning candles. These little things are wonderful and they’re only $6.95. Even better, there’s almost always a sale or coupon to get them even cheaper. You guys know how cheap financially responsible I am - I’ve found that with MANY items, not just at Pier 1 but most stores, if you can order it online and pick it up in store (where’d you be going anyway to buy it) you can almost always apply an online coupon and get a tasty discount. Check retailmenot.com and you can find a code nearly every time. I’ve done it everywhere from Target to Kirkland’s and even Belk. Even better, if you’re picking up an order at Kirkland’s they’ll give you a 15% discount on anything you buy while you’re there to get your order. Picking up that doormat you wanted and spy the perfect birthday gift for a friend? Discount! My husband knows that I’d rather have a root canal than pay retail, but I’m even happier if I can bring home a broken $5 shutter and turn it into something I love. If it’s chippy and worn, even better. I may need a truck so I can bring home more things to save us money.

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spotslong · 2 years ago

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primehomebuyersbrand · 4 years ago

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Sell Your House Fast in Roanoke VA

It is a big decision to sell a house or a property that requires due planning and planning. For the near future, the choices you make today will shape your finances.

Until you easily sell your house for cash, take the time to carefully review and assess all facets of the land and the house. There are appropriate steps that need to be taken to finance the investment long before a bid is extended. Knowing the local real estate industry, the neighborhood, and the house itself will help ensure that the conditions and desires are ideally matched to the property and the bid.

Confidence is the key to house shopping. After closure, getting hands-on with prospective houses will shield you from any unpleasant findings. If you have real estate in Roanoke VA, we will make you the best foreclosure deal for your houses. Please contact us. It’s no hassle to sell your home. If you want us to work to sell your house or for some aid in the property's selling and homes in Virginia MD address, it is short, simple and can be a fast process.

Offer your homes today at the best rates in Virginia and give us an email at our address.

What to do before you make a bid to purchase your Virginia home for sale?

Selling your house is one of the best decisions you can make in life and probably the biggest investment in the future of your family. Take the time to do the stuff needed to make sure you are properly organized before you sell your home. Decide if you want your home to be sold for cash. That's a tip pro.

Extreme vigilance must be exercised from finding a bidder to the execution of the sale deal and the bid closed in order to extract the best price. Make sure that you take these steps to sell the house in Roanoke easily.

Test the worth of your Roanoke VA property for money

The first step is to accurately assess the land. You should self-assess the property or get an external source to easily assess the true value. For comparable properties, the test to draw an inference for Virginia sellers could be the prevailing market rate in the locality.

Looking for a house to sell in VA? Oh, call us!

Get hold of a buyer to purchase your house

The next move is seeking a buyer. Be sure that you do not threaten the buyer by asking for too much cash for the home. Do not make a bid that is impractical. Once you arrive at a deal with the seller, it is important to verify the buyer's credentials in terms of his family background, address facts, financial capacity and reliability.

Contact the governing body in Virginia

The next step is to express to the housing company’s Virginia management that you intend to sell the house after convincing yourself of the credentials of the buyer and addressing it. For your house, you may also obtain a No-Objection Certificate from Virginia management.

Virginia rules with legal documents

You should get going now with the legal documents of the property. To do so, make an appointment with the sub-registrar to have the property registered in the purchaser’s name. Both buyer and seller should identify themselves on the sale deed execution day, meaning that the timing matches both parties.

Will you need assistance with paperwork to place the house on sale? We are here to help you. Contact us via email.

Real estate house broker

Your real estate agent needs to be someone you are secure dealing with, someone you trust to sell for your house’s top dollar. Don’t be afraid to talk to a few real estate brokers before picking one. Don’t only immediately employ the real estate agent who most recently gave you a newsletter, or the one your mate knows about.

Little touch-up to easily sell your house

Be very diligent to clean and then touch baseboards, walls and doors even without a full refurbishing job, so the house sparks and looks well looked after. Selling nearly any house can be tricky, but selling a house with lots of minor problems and minimal maintenance requirements can be downright impossible. When buyers walk into an open house, or go on a house tour, they want to fall in love with the property, not apply a lot of tiny repairs to their to-do list.

Tips to sell your house easily in Roanoke, Virginia

But before you place your house on the Virginia MD market, take a peek at this checklist of items that you need to do in readiness. Any of these tips are unexpectedly easy.

Fix all little things in the house

For your entire home, patch or repair defective or obsolete appliances. It is very cheap to add new door handles, faucets, towel bars and curtain rods - fixtures that are easily recognizable to homebuyers. The efficiency and safety of these components is also enhanced with new appliances in the toilet, kitchen and on windows and doors.

Sold your house today and get the best price in Roanoke easily. We'll be there until it's locked and done with the deal.

Updating Lighting

Remove decorative light fixtures which do not compliment the cleaner, fresher look of your house anymore. Install new light fixtures with the lighting for your house’s special locations. Ambient, low-key lighting, for instance, fills a space, while directional or mission lighting performs better in areas such as a reading nook. To attract buyers’ attention to such selling points, use accent lighting to highlight focal points in a gallery, such as the artwork above a mantle.

Framing the house’s windows and gates

Be sure that you have the right window treatments that maximize the natural brightness and enhance a house’s beauty. Window treatments may also affect the temperature of a room when they reduce or maximize the amount of light entering the room. When your house is displayed in the mornings, afternoons and evenings, change window treatments accordingly. More enhanced framed descriptions help to sell your house easily.

Setting a table

New decorative flowers are often a fun touch in the kitchen or on the table in the dining room. Often, have place settings ready for your tables so that right before shows or an open house, you can set them up quickly. Take out all the dining room’s formal stops and leave the kitchen table casual.

Engage a Stager

Nothing invigorates a home, like some new furnishings or an ideally selected mirror. Finding an expert to have your home to show is the trick. House stagers can analyze the current condition and contents of the house and determine which components should raise the bar. They may request that certain items be bought or leased, or they may just reorganize your bookshelves and knickknacks in a whole another way.

Stagers know the real estate market and what it sells, so it is important to take their advise and not take offense when they make big changes. Their job is to help drum up interest from prospective purchasers, which is always good news for the seller.

Conducting a scent test

Foul smells, even mild ones, can be a supply breaker, and the thing is that you do not even know them.

We recommend asking an unbiased third party to identify any pet smells or lingering smells from your kitchen. If the smells are widespread, the “masking techniques” of the vendor, such as candles or plug-in room deodorizers, are prepared for any deep cleaning by certain clients. Plus, if the consumer doesn’t like the scent of lavender or fake citrus, it might backfire by covering up odors with a stronger fragrance.

Mistakes to prevent when making a bid

You must have spent a great deal of time and money saving to start making an official bid in Roanoke or Virginia to purchase a home. Errors you make now will have long-term financial consequences. Until you have a home, there are some basic mistakes to prevent.

Do not accept mortgages accepted beforehand

In the home buying process, the first step is to determine whether you can afford it and whether you can afford it and how much house you can afford. Your credit ratings, reserves and revenue generation potential are checked by the creditors to apply for a mortgage. Get pre-approved signals from your lender and banks that you’re going to have the funds to close and pay for your house loan.

Not Researching Community and Business

If you do not take the time to look at the local economy, culture, and the vendor, you might find yourself in an unpleasant situation for years. Make sure you know just what you are walking into before making an official sale at a new home. Search for property values found in Virginia for the purchase or selling of Roanoke VA and Virginia homes or land.

Failure to buy using a delegate or listing agent

The seller’s representative would take the seller’s wishes into consideration. The Virginia consumer agent will serve your interests and work during the negotiation process to ensure that you get the best deal.

So, are you ready to sell your house in Roanoke, VA?

If you will see, learning how to sell a house is reasonably painless.

By far, getting the support of an accomplished real estate agent is the most important step. They’re going to help you describe your wants vs. your needs, help with your budget, and, of course, discover the houses you’d love to call home. Call us at our email address at work. In Virginia, MD, we are a well-established realtor firm. We are a specialist in selling fast house market. The name you need to recall for home purchases is whether you want to rent or purchase a new property in Roanoke, VA. Under the direction of those who appreciate the organization from its origins, sell your estate.

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