#dean is asleep

[dorkylilguy]

“The housework, I think, will fall on Cas. And I’ll tell you why. Because Cas doesn’t sleep. So there’s seven or eight hours when Dean is sleeping where if he like, if Cas doesn’t find the time to put away the dishes and fold the laundry during that time—that’s pretty lame.”

—Misha Collins

[mpregeminem]

completely based off this post

@samwinchesterstan

[lijzeil]

New sketch.

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

[waywardsamdean]

THE damsel in distress of supernatural

[casdeans-pie]

So it's like this: Dean gets out of bed one night to go have a pee at 3am and he's actually still half asleep when he shuffles back into the room (because there are no more monsters to hunt and he doesn't have to be alert like a feral cat anymore) but when he gets to the doorway there's a lamp on and Cas is sitting up in their bed. The lamplight is warm and inviting and the bedsheet has slipped off of Cas's bare chest and his frowny concentrating face is lit up by his phone, and Dean knows He Just Knows that Cas is playing that weird little farming mobile game that he's addicted to where he's constantly worried about harvesting his crops and feeding his cows. And it just hits Dean full in the chest that it's 3am and there are no more monsters and this is their bed and their room and their lamp and Cas is here playing his silly mobile games with the same expression he gave to reading ancient texts waiting for Dean to come back from his mid-night pee.

He gets to have this. He loves him.

Dean doesn't even realise he's crying until the image of Cas gets too blurry with tears to see anymore and he misses him and he has to roughly rub his eyes to clear them and when he looks back Cas has put the phone down and he's holding his arms open.

Dean launches himself into them.

[naked-covered-in-bees]

in the same vein as dean saying john and mary's marriage was only perfect after she died- i think john loves dean and sam the most when he's away from them, when they're ideas and not realities.

[indubioprocoffee]

“Cas? I think Dean’s got the fever again,” Jack said as he passed Castiel in the kitchen.

Castiel sighed. “You sure?”

Jack shrugged. “That’s what he says. I tried to heal him, but he’s dancing on the table.”

Oh, so that kind of fever.

I’m hot blooded, check it and see, was echoing through the bunker halls. Castiel found Dean actually dancing on the table of the war room, a bottle of whiskey in his hands.

“I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three.”

“Dean?”

When Dean noticed Cas a smile began to cover his face. But he was dead pale and sweating and in fact feverish. He needed to go to bed immediately.

“Come on baby, do you do more than dance? I'm hot blooded, I′m hot blooded.”

“Dean, you need to go to bed! You are sick. And you shouldn’t be drinking.”

But Dean ignored him. “You don't have to read my mind to know what I have in mind. Honey you oughta know” Now he was winking at Cas. Clearly he was delirious.

“Alright.” Cas also climbed the table, to coax Dean into bed. But Dean only took his hands to dance with him.

“Now you move so fine, let me lay it on the line. I just wanna know what you're doin′ after the show.”

“There is no show, Dean. You need to sleep.” But it was hopeless.

“Well it′s up to you, we can make a secret rendezvous. Just me and you, I'll show you lovin′ like you never knew.” His eyes still fixed on Cas, smirking.

“You know what?” Cas was giving in. “Let’s make a rendezvous. I’ll meet you in your bedroom in two minutes. Alright?” Instead of continuing the song, Dean stopped.

“You sure?”

“Yes. I desperately want to get you into bed,” Castiel said, not without sarcasm.

“Okay sure.” Dean was jumping down the table, walking straight to his bedroom.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Cas wondered.

“You comin’?”

@wigglebox

[samofmine]

"Stop looking at me like that!" Sam says, high pitched and annoyed, but well, no. Dean very much can't stop looking at him like that.

(aka I couldn't stop thinking about this so here's a weecest with sam in a cropped top and the inner chaos it ensues on dean)

Like what, anyway? He just hopes he's not drooling.

Sam came home an hour ago. He insisted on going shopping for his own clothes, saying Dean never got his right size, the pants looked too baggy and the shirts too loose. Well, forgive him if he doesn't want Sam parading the shape of his body to everyone. He gets enough catcalls from creeps in gas stations and sideroad bars as it is.

But Dean can't really use that as an argument, so yes, go the fuck ahead and buy your own clothes if you're so self sufficient, he said, and oh how it bit him in the ass.

Sam's fashion preference happened to be a pair of ragged jeans, red converse sneakers, and a freaking cropped top. A white, loose cropped top, short enough he can see everything from under Sam's nipples to the curve of his hipbone, loose enough it reveals Sam's collarbones as he moves.

Sammy's stomach. The smooth, milky skin wrapping around his small waist. His hip bones. Hell, even his belly button. Dean feels dizzy.

It's not like Dean's never seen it before. He bathed the kid, changed his diapers, but it's all a distant memory now, since Sam's puberty hit and he started acting like such a girl, shy to even be in the same room as a shirtless Dean, and god forbid Dean ever needs to piss when he's in the shower, because he will be throwing a tantrum before he even gets to step inside the bathroom.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. It would take more than bitchy mood swings and annoying brattiness to make Sam any less endearing to Dean.

He's still his little brother. His baby. Dean's everything.

He's not saying he misses the closeness, the tangled limbs under bedsheets when it was too cold and lying too close together when they had to share a crappy motel fan during a heat wave. But now that all of that is in the past, he simply wasn't prepared to see so much of Sam.

He wants to put his hands on each side of his waist and see if they still fit perfectly.

He wants to brush his fingers under his belly button and see if he can still track the goosebumps running through his body by watching his skin from close enough.

He wants... He wants.

He won't do any of that, though, because he doesn't want to be yelled at and he definitely doesn't want to deal with a moody Sammy for the rest of the week.

So, he stares. Sam has to grant him at least that.

"Looks weird, I know it." Sam looks down, and Dean notices his hands are trying to cover his stomach. "Just stop staring. It's hot today."

Dean blinks. What. What?

"What?" He can't help it. "Why do you think I'm staring? D'you think I'm gonna make fun of you?"

"Well." Sam looks at him, all bitchy faced. "Why else?"

Dean wants to laugh. Or cry. This is ridiculous.

If I could take a picture of you like this and keep it next to my bed so it's the first thing I see everyday, I'd be doing it right now. Seriously. Just give me a camera.

Obviously he can't say any of that. So.

"Why don't you wear a skirt to complete the look?" He teases, but crap, that was not the right thing to say, not just because the image of Sam in a skirt crosses his mind and he feels faint from it, but because of Sam's pained expression as soon as he heard the words.

"You're a jerk." Sam says and lies down on his bed, his back to Dean. He pulls the covers on top of him as if he's trying to hide.

Dean moves before he can even rationalize it. "Sammy, c'mon." He says, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. "I was joking."

"Leave me alone." He gets in response.

Dean takes a deep breath, tries to go through his mental Sammy manual to see if he has any way of fixing this.

Feels like nothing he can say or do will make any difference.

So, to hell with it.

"You look good." He says. If Sam's gonna be pissed at him anyway, let it be for his honesty instead of his bad jokes.

Sam tenses up under the blanket, Dean notices of course.

"You don't mean that." Sam's voice is smaller, vulnerable, tugging on Dean's heartstrings like nothing else does.

"Of course I..." He sighs in frustration. "Let me see you."

Sam turns to lie on his back just so he can look at Dean, confused. Well, at least he's looking at him.

Dean grabs the blanket and pulls it down.

"Stop! Give it back." Sam whines, pulling it back. He's so goddamn loud, for no reason.

Dean rolls his eyes and holds Sam's wrists to make him stop.

"Let me see you, Sammy." He says, in a way anyone else would think is an order, even their dad, but only Sam knows this is him pleading.

He lets go of Sam's wrists to put the blanket away. Sam lets him.

Dean takes a moment, takes in the sight.

Sam's hands are still shyly on top of his stomach, hiding it.

Dean swallows dry.

He slowly reaches and moves Sam's hand so he can touch him, fingers almost shaking from the excitement, and Sam's stomach clenches under his touch.

He looks up to meet Sam's eyes. He's looking at him, nervous and flushed and beautiful, and Dean wants to keep him to himself, wants to lock them inside this room and throw away the key or fucking swallow it, because no way in hell he's ever going to allow anyone else to see Sam like this.

"You look good." He repeats, not recognizing his own voice, it comes out strangled and pathetic and he has to take a deep breath.

"Thanks." Sam says softly, so damn soft, Dean doesn't think locking him in the room will be enough. He's gonna have to eat him.

He brushes his fingers lightly across Sam's stomach and he squirms, fucking squirms, laughing under him.

"Tickles." Sam whines.

And, well, if doing that will make Sammy lose the scowl, game on.

Dean starts to tickle his tummy, laughing along with Sam as he drinks in every movement.

"Stop!" Sam laughs, grabbing his hand.

The pause in their movements is too long and with their eyes locked Dean forgets to breathe.

"Well, do you believe me?" He says once he remembers, "Or should I say it again?"

"I believe you." Sam says, shyly.

"What was that? I didn't hear it." Dean leans down, closer to hear him better.

"Shut up, you heard me." Sam is still smiling.

"How come you're always avoiding me lately?" Maybe now is not the time to talk about this, he knows Sam's good mood is fragile and he shouldn't be tempting it, but. He has to know.

"I'm not. I just... Feel weird around you."

"Weird?" Dean asks, confused.

"I don't know. Shut up." Sam says, but he's still smiling, even though it's a more nervous smile. "Just... Weird. Like I always want more of it. Don't ask me to explain it, I just know I shouldn't feel this way. I just do, though."

Dean blinks at him, digesting.

"It's probably cause we spend most of the time in small rooms with not enough space even to have personal space."

Nerd, Dean thinks.

But such a cute fucking nerd. He has no idea what he's even talking about but at least Sam isn't tired of him or hates him. He just feels weird, and Dean can totally understand that.

"You're such a weirdo." He says, not holding back his smile. Sam laughs weakly and Dean feels high on it.

Maybe that's why he leans in and kisses his forehead.

He feels Sam freezing under him but it's been so long since he let him this close, so damn long, he can't stop.

He kisses the tip of his nose.

Sam holds his breath.

Dean kisses his chin.

"De?" Sam's voice is so small, Dean is going insane.

When he meets his eyes again he notices Sam isn't looking at him with confusion or annoyance like he expected.

He decides to push his luck.

"What? I can't kiss you, anymore, either?" He says, testing the waters. "When you were little you wouldn't go to sleep without a goodnight kiss from me, remember that?"

Sam groans in embarassment, but he's still smiling, cheeks tainted pink.

"I was a kid. 'M not a kid anymore."

"So I shouldn't kiss you then." Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Why would you even want to kiss me?" Sam says, not meeting his eyes.

Dean can't even register the question. Seriously.

"Have you looked at yourself?" He says. "How could I not?"

He travels his eyes down Sam's body, his stomach drawing his attention again.

He stares for a moment too long.

"You can." Sam says, almost a whisper.

Dean meets his eyes, not sure what he was talking about. Maybe he got distracted, sue him.

Sam notices and rolls his eyes.

"Kiss me, I mean." He explains shyly "Miss your goodnight kisses, too."

And Dean feels himself buzz with excitement, fingers going numb from wanting to reach and touch and hold and do everything at once.

He sighs in frustration and lets his head drop forward, resting his forehead against Sam's stomach.

"You'll be the death of me." He says against Sam's skin. He hopes it's a promise. Only death could free him from this longing. Maybe not even death.

And there they are. The goosebumps.

He smiles. He can't help but kiss him, right on top of his bellybuton. He takes his time, too, letting his lips brush against the skin, breathing in Sam's scent.

Sam is quiet but Dean can hear his breath getting heavier.

He continues.

He kisses every bit of skin he can reach, lips brushing across Sam's stomach from one kiss to the other, never wanting to break the contact.

"Feels weird." Sam lets out a choked sigh.

"Bad weird?" Dean asks, looking up at him.

"Just weird." Sam says. "Probably bad weird. But I like it."

Dean looks at him, words escaping him.

Sam smiles sweetly and cups his face with his hand.

"I like everything you make me feel, De. Even though I hate that I like it sometimes."

Dean leans back to get a better view of Sam's expression, wants to register it in his brain so he can remember it the next time Sam avoids him again.

"Same here, Sammy." He says, simply, because he has no idea how to put into words the relief he's feeling.

He looks at Sam's stomach, places his hands on each side of his waist. Rubs his thumb against his skin.

"Fits." He says, more to himself.

Sam's hand finds his face again, this time under his chin, making him look up.

They're really damn close to each other. Dean's eyes stop on Sam's lips.

Sam is leaning in. His hand move from his chin to hold Dean's shoulder, both hands, and he closes his eyes and he continues to lean in and Dean feels like everything is happening way too slowly but he could never rush this.

Sam kisses him. It's nothing but a peck, but it's enough to awake the monster that's been dorment inside Dean's soul all this time and he can't stop himself from pulling Sam towards him by the neck, to kiss him better, to kiss him harder, to feel his lips against his tongue.

Sam tries to follow Dean's rythm, letting out small whimpers that make Dean even more hungry.

He guides him so they both move on the bed and he sits him on his lap. Sam's arms immediately lock around his neck.

They kiss for so long Dean starts to feel lightheaded, but he still wants more, because it's Sammy, and Sammy is kissing him back and he wants everything Sam gives him and he almost wants more.

After too long but not even close to long enough Dean lies them down, but they continue to trade kisses until Sam falls asleep first, Dean's hands firm on his waist, keeping them close enough they share each breath. Dean decides this, right here, like this, is where they belong. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

[salchat]

Look, no one's expecting you not to pat his spiky hair or boop his little nose, but just be gentle, 'kay? Don't wake him up!

[soullessjack]

lord knows I do not have the capacity to explain it right now but I have so much disdain for how heteronormative and nuclear this fandom is hellbent on making destiel and lord knows I have an even bigger hatred for how jack is used to fuel it.

[sosaysdean]

brother

[locke-esque-monster]

I feel like we don't talk nearly enough about how interesting "Houses of the Holy" is as a Supernatural episode. Because a lot of it is a template to where the show will be in a couple seasons, when at the time it was written, angels weren't in the show's plans.

And sure, this is the episode that foreshadows Sam pointing at something just behind Dean and confirming it's Michael. And that alone is a delight.

But let's talk about other interesting aspects of the episode:

The origin of Dean's skepticism of faith from all the evil he's seen from the age of 4 on, contrasted with Sam's desire to hold onto faith so he can be saved due to his link to the YED.

Dean and Sam's argument about faith and things you can see and believe in that has a lot in common with the one in 4x2.

Sam desperately wanting angels to fix problems or redeem him. And him being disappointed in the reality of that, a lot like 4x7.

Dean's argument of how he knows nothing is watching over them because all you can count on is evil and chaos is the root of his fight with Cas in 4x2.

Then there's the fact that Sam is judging Dean for his pursuit of pleasure. Despite that, Sam feels he's the one that needs saving. And Dean despite his love of vice, is the stand-in for the angels. He's the avenging angel of this episode, making sure the woman is okay and chasing after the bad buy. And he literally says he's watching over Sam at the end to reassure him when Sam is hurt because this wasn't an angel case. Dean doesn't think there are real angels around, but he's determined to be the angel in someone else's life - whether it be Sam's or someone else's.

And then there's the way the bad guy is killed with a pole at the end, "Final Destination" style. I can't help but wonder, did the angels do that? We spent a whole episode talking about faith. Was this to test the boys and see how they'd react to angels a little before they gear up for Sam's death at season's end? And long term, feel them out before they put their plan into action for the apocalypse? Was Father Gregory something they "helped along" somehow to lure the boys to town? There's a theory Gabriel lured them to scope them out in "Tall Tales" a couple episodes later. Who's to say the angels didn't do the same thing (maybe even inspiring Gabe)? Or perhaps the angels just take advantage of the situation since they were already watching the boys long-term? And moving the pole was as much to protect Dean as it was to see his reaction and if that would sway his lack of faith? Or was an angel (like Cas) watching over Dean and interfered to ensure his safety in the car chase? And maybe even wanted to show off a little?

I don't know. But it sure is fun to contemplate.

[cevans-is-classic]

Wait

The Winchesters couldn't vote

Could they?

I'd like to see Castiel try.

They're dead ™️ and he's an angel of the Lord. How does that voter registration go.

[envydean]

Happy 44th Birthday, Dean ♥

[archivistsammy]

everything is awesome when your name is dean winchester (youtube)