#deancas ficlets

[cozyknights]

dean/cas ficlet no. 1

not sure how long this is, but my girlfriend wanted me to write dean and cas at a diner so. this is that.

The diner is busy.

It's Saturday, a fact which Dean forgot before stepping foot in here. The bell jingles behind him. When he glances over his shoulder to see who it is, he's relieved to see it's Cas. He comes to stand next to him, frowning as ever.

"Why are you waiting?" Cas wonders, looking over at the full tables and the waitresses bustling back and forth between the kitchen and the booths.

"Kinda packed in here, buddy. Sure you don't want to go somewhere else?"

Cas shrugs. "I don't mind the wait."

After about twenty minutes they're finally seated at a booth with a window overlooking the street. Dean flips open the menu and lays it flat so Cas can read it backwards from the opposite seat.

"Dude, Garlic Butter Bacon Cheeseburger," Dean says. He points at the words and reads the ingredients, an excited spark in his eyes. "Bacon, garlic butter, grilled onions... I'm getting that. And!" He flips the page. "A chocolate shake."

"Dean..." Cas starts, looking slightly concerned.

"What? My best friend's an angel, just heal me up if your spidey senses tell you I'm getting an ulcer, or something."

Before Cas can reply, a waitress appears at their table. She looks pretty put together, except that her ponytail is slightly unkempt and there's a sheen of sweat on her neck. She smiles and takes out her pocketbook and pen.

"What can I get for ya?"

Dean orders his burger. Cas asks for an orange juice and toast.

"Coming right up," she says and disappears into the kitchen. Dean closes the menu in front of him and folds his hands, paying his attention to Cas.

"Just toast? You can have some of my fries if you want. I'll ask for another straw for my shake too."

"I don't get hungry," Cas says, "but I like the experience of eating."

Dean nods at that. "Yeah, eating's pretty fun. Unless you're Sam. Then it's not so fun." A pause. "I'm starving."

They make small talk until the waitress comes by again and drops off their drinks. Five minutes later, their food comes by piping hot. Dean immediately gets hit with the smell of garlic, onions, and warm bread.

"Can I get anything else for you?" the waitress asks, placing her hands on her hips.

"Another straw, please, and some napkins would be great. Thanks," Dean says. She nods and disappears again.

Dean rubs his hands together. This is going to be delicious.

He slides Cas his knife and fork set for his toast and butter and starts on his burger, taking his first delicious bite.

The flavors coat his mouth as he chews, and Dean actually takes a moment to close his eyes and relish in it. The garlicy spread, the bacon, the meat, the onions... they all blend together masterfully on his tongue. He swallows and chases it with a sip of his shake. It's perfect.

When the waitress comes back he says, "Give my compliments to the chef. This burger is delicious."

She laughs and leaves, and Dean opens the straw and sticks it in his shake. He slides it over to Cas and positions his burger basket so that the fries are closer to Cas.

"Have some, man, you won't regret it."

Cas furrows his eyebrows and tries the milkshake, smacking his lips a little to taste it better. Then he takes a fry, and before Dean can stop him, dips it in the cup of whipped butter they gave him for his toast.

"I understand your fascination with American food."

Dean clears his throat. "Yeah... I'm not sure you do."

[perlukafarinn]

as far as i'm concerned, post-canon dean opens a gay bar and rumor quickly spreads among queer hunters that rocky's is a place where they can safely and openly be themselves in every aspect. it's not every day you walk into a bar that has a rainbow flag hanging behind the bar and salt painted into the windowsills, after all

dean has a small staff of people who both give him shit and respect him immensely (claire picks up shifts whenever she's in the area and pretends not to notice that dean pays her double). he makes his angel husband cut the limes on tequila tuesdays. he has cocktails on the menu named after both charlie and crowley (queen of moondor and king of hell, respectively)

and every thursday after closing, dean lets cas lead him in a dance as the jukebox finishes playing the last song of the night

[angel-fruitcake]

can't stop thinking about the concept of post-canon Destiel reunion where Dean confesses his mutual romantic feelings and Cas is so happy, don't get him wrong! but even though he's grown fond of this vessel that he's had for years, for some reason Cas can't seem to get past his worry and insecurity that maybe Dean isn't 100% sold on the whole idea of being intimate with a man.

so without meeting Dean's gaze, Cas hesitantly offers with a touch of sadness, "if this vessel isn't satisfactory for you, i-i could perhaps try to procure a female v-"

and Dean grabs Cas by his heated cheeks, promptly shutting him up with a kiss.

once the initial shock subsides and Cas finally starts to relax, Dean pulls back just enough to whisper against the angel's lips, "i want you just like this. this," Dean squeezes Cas' face for emphasis, "is the Cas that i met in that barn all those years ago. this is the Cas that pulled me outta hell." Dean trails wet kisses along Cas' stubbled jawline, pausing when his lips reach the angel's ear. "this is the Cas i fell in love with."

Castiel melts against Dean with a whimper.

[casdeans-pie]

Dean and Cas are visiting Jody and the girls one day and Dean has insisted on cooking them all dinner. He hears them all chatting and laughing in the next room while he cooks - he can especially hear Cas's rumbling replies - and it warms something in his chest and makes him smile, even though he's not actively part of the conversation.

Patience comes into the kitchen to fetch another bottle of wine and stares over at Dean long enough that he gives her a curious look. "Y'okay there?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," she says, "it's just that, I've never seen that mark on your shoulder glow so brightly."

Dean freezes. "The what?"

Patience gestures with the bottle at his left shoulder. "The handprint?" she says, with a little uncertainty after his reaction. "It's glowing brighter than ever."

Dean immediately pulls his arm out of his flannel and yanks up his shirt sleeve, but there's nothing there.

"Oh wow." Patience blinks and squints at a light only she can see. "Must be hard to sleep with that."

Dean feels like he takes a long time to respond before he finally says, "You get used to it."

"Guess you'd have to," Patience says, shaking her head as she leaves the room, "when it's as bright as that."

Dean immediately touches his shoulder, where the scar used to be, but it's just smooth unmarked skin under his palm.

He presses down.

The sound of a glass clinking over onto the table comes from the other room and he hears Jody cheerfully claim that Cas has had too much to drink (which Dean knows isn't true unless they had a significantly lot more wine).

Castiel, Dean prays, I think we need to talk about something in the kitchen.

-----------

(Part 2)

(AO3 link post)

[th30ra3k3n]

“i can do it myself.” person a:

“i know you can, but let me.” person b:

[jenanigans1207]

“I don’t regret it, Dean.” Cas says quietly. “Telling you I love you was the best moment of my life.”

“Yeah? Well, it was the worst of mine!” Dean yells, throwing his arms out to the side. There’s a moment of stricken silence where Cas’s face falls and Dean realizes how his words came across. He rushes to elaborate. “Do you know how many years I wondered if angels could feel love? Romantic love? Do you know how long I hoped that they could— that you, specifically, could? And more than that, that you would feel it towards me? I wondered all the goddamn time, Cas. And then you— you finally—“ Dean swallows past a lump in his throat, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You finally tell me not only that you can love, but you love me. Me. And in one second, ten years of my wildest dreams came true and then were ripped away.”

Dean looks down at his feet. Clenches his jaw against the feelings threatening to choke him. He tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose but it doesn’t help him feel any better.

“Dean—“

“I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again.” Dean confesses to his boots. “I thought I’d have to live the rest of my miserable life knowing I could’ve had you and kicking myself for being such a dumb piece of shit.” He swallows again and looks up. “I thought you were going to spend eternity not knowing that I love you, too.”

“I didn’t mean— Dean, I didn’t—“ Cas shakes his head as words fail him.

“So yeah,” Dean shrugs a little helplessly, his voice still tight with emotion. “It was the worst moment of my life. Except for every moment that came after— because every single moment from your death until you came back was the worst moment of my life. Every moment without you is. And you coming back could’ve been the best moment of my life if you hadn’t been such an ass about everything.”

There was a time, once, in the distant past where Cas’s face never betrayed any emotion. Dean could’ve scrutinized every single molecule of his expression and he wouldn’t have been able to read a goddamn thing from it. That hasn’t been the case for a long time— Cas took to emotions and humanity better than Dean did, and it was the only thing Dean had ever known.

Now, Dean can read a multitude of emotions in Cas’s expression: disbelief in the slight part of his lips, hope in the blue of his eyes, shock in the rise of his eyebrows. He can practically read every thought going through Cas’s mind as he tries to process what’s happened.

And then, there it is: acceptance in the way the corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up.

“I had no idea.” Cas answers after a moment.

“‘Course you didn’t.” Dean replies, his own mouth mirroring the small smile. “You fucked off before I got a chance to say it back.”

“I just assumed—“

“You know what they say about assuming, Cas.”

“No, I don’t.” Cas is full on smiling now, warm and full of the love Dean had only ever seen hidden in shadows of his expressions. Now it’s practically splitting his face open, spilling out of Cas like he’s finally filled up with so much of it that it’s simply impossible to keep it all in. “And frankly, I don’t care. I only care about what you have to say.”

Dean huffs out a fond laugh as he shakes his head. “Finally gonna let me do the talking, huh?”

“I’m in the mood to do some listening,” Cas’s grin is dazzling and a little cheeky, Dean wants to memorize it immediately.

He takes a step closer to Cas. And then another. Cas simply watches him approach, making no attempt to back away. His personal space is inviting and Dean enjoys stepping directly into it with no hesitation.

“Well, I might be in the mood for something other than talking.” Dean whispers, less than a foot from Cas now.

“Oh?” Cas prompts, his hand reaching across the minuscule place between them to settle on Dean’s hip.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, leaning in. “But just to make sure you get it through your stubborn head: I love you, Cas. And I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do something like that again.”

Dean kisses him before Cas has a chance to reply.

[saturnneedsspace]

After Cas confesses his love, but before he pushes Dean away, he pulls something out from his trench coat and slips it into Dean's pocket. Cas pushes him down and gets taken by the Empty, followed by Billie, leaving Dean alone on the bunker floor. As he cries, he feels something push into his chest, so he reaches his hand into his flannel pocket and pulls out the mixtape. The one he had given Cas as a gift and a secret sort of love confession of his own, thinking Cas wouldn't understand it. But as he stared down at the tape over top that read 'Dean's top 13 Zeppelin traxx', he knew that Cas understood. And he feels his heart break even more. Cas knew. Cas knew how he felt, yet he never said anything until it was too late. They were both too stupid to understand and just tell each other.

As Dean held the mixtape firmly in his hands, shoulders shaking with his sobs, he noticed that something felt off about it. The texture was different. He would know. He had flipped the cassette over and over and over in his hands before giving it to Cas, trying to decide on what to say to the angel.

Dean used his sleeve to wipe the blurriness from his eyes so he could see what was wrong with it. It still took a few seconds to adjust, and when he saw the large crack down the center of the tape, he gasped and brought it closer to his face. More tears spilled down his face. Cas' last move was to give this back to him, to show him that he understood their love and reassured Dean that, though he never said it, he knew how much he had meant to him. And Dean had broken it. The last thing Cas had ever given him besides the bloody handprint forever imprinted on his coat.

But as Dean's hands held on, finergrtips rubbing over the surface again and again, desperate to feel some kind of comfort in his hopeless situation, he noticed something attached to the back of it. He sniffled, wiped his eyes again, and flipped it over. On the backside, there was a piece of paper taped there with his name written on it. He quickly ripped it off, causing the cassette to re-split in half, obvious that the piece of tape being all that held it together, and opened the note.

Hello, Dean.

I just wanted to write you this before I give back your tape and apologize for breaking it. I'm really really sorry. I know I'm not super good at apologies, but writing makes it a lot easier, so I'm writing it for you. I hope you'll forgive me. I didn't mean to break it. I know you spent a lot of time picking the songs specifically for me because you knew I'd like them, though I had trouble understanding some of the parts. I'll never understand why humans love music so much. It's so much noise and there's so much going on, but I know it's important to you, so I will learn to like it. I'm very sorry for breaking it. I don't ever take it out of my trench coat, just in case I need to listen to it during an emergency, and I fell onto it. :( Please forgive me, Dean. I'm very sorry.

As Dean read, he watched tear drops stain the paper. He laughed a little as he continued to cry, noting how the letter was the most characteristic Cas letter he could think of. And he was happy. So happy that he didn't break it himself. It was already broken.

Cas knew how much the weight of handing over a mixtape was, especially a Zeppelin one for Dean, and he acknowledged it. Dean squeezed the letter to his chest as he leaned back against the wall and continued to cry silently.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Just imagine for a second. Cas and Dean working a case together near Fort Collins and Cas dragging Dean to the Denver Museum of Nature & Science. Dean doesn’t want to go there, because museums are boring, except maybe the part with the dinosaurs. Dinosaurs are kinda cool, otherwise there’s no point in visiting a natural history museum, but since Cas wants to, well, they go anyway.

They do the tour around the parts where all the rocks are exposed. Cas is amazed by all of them, by their shapes and colors. He sees that Dean is not as interested as he is, even when Cas tells him where the rocks come from.

“I remember. This one was formed during the splitting of the continents, precisely between Europe and Africa. It was slow if you look at it from the human perspective but it’s actually fascinating.” Dean nods here and there, but Cas knows how to get his attention. "Look, Dean. The color of that quartz, it's beautiful." He starts, bending a little over the glass case protecting the rocks, pointing at the bright green one in front of him.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean answers, quickly glancing at the object of Cas's amazement, but really, he doesn’t want to look at pebbles right now, he would have preferred to go watch a movie or grab a bite at the diner they saw on their way to the museum instead.

"The green here is almost as beautiful as the one in your eyes." Cas states, his fingers brushing along Dean's arm tenderly. Dean looks at him suddenly with wide eyes, his cheeks start to tint a little. "And this pink is almost as intense as the one appearing on your cheeks right now." Cas smiles proudly, pointing at a pinkish rock next to the green one, and kisses Dean's cheek as he intertwines their fingers.

He stops near Dean’s ear, his lips brushing it, his other hand cupping Dean’s jaw. “Maybe we can visit the bathroom later.” He whispers then he drags by the hand a speechless and flustered Dean behind him to continue the tour. 

[cascigarette]

and cas has never felt more alive

[heliotrope155]

*post confession, they figure out some way to get Cas back*

*twenty seconds after getting Cas back*

Dean: *slams him against a wall, so furious that he might have a heart attack*

Saileen: *alarmed*

Cas, looking concerned and slightly sad: "Hello Dea--"

Dean: "I love you too you fucking motherfucker, and after what you fucking did, you are dead to me--"

Sam: "Dean??"

Cas: *smiling and not bothering to push him off*

Eileen: "Hey Sam, we should leave."

Dean: "--how the hell could you just do that Cas? Why the fuck would you--"

Sam: "Dean? We literally just got him back, you mind leaving him alive?" *eyebrows shoot up when Cas kisses him*

Eileen: "Sam we should leave."

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem —." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

[verobatto]

Happy Destiel November 5!

Written for @cocklesdestielfiction 's Nove 5 Destiel Bingo.

Title: As We Go

Rated: Explicit

Author: BENKA79 (verobatto)

Chapter: 1/9

Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Violence

Tags: season 5 vintage destiel, falling in love, winged Castiel.

Summary:

Now that Castiel is staying with the Winchesters, Dean gets to know him as he slowly fall for him.

This work was beta'ed by @jeremyofchitaqua

Link to chapter 1 on AO3.

[universalcas]

The worst part of it all, if you don't take into account the hollowing feeling that threatens to eat you alive from the insides, the fear, paralyzing as anything, of not being able to function properly ever again, the idea of you doing the basics every day, powered by muscle memory alone because you have to eat and you have to breathe in a world that doesn't give a shit about anything and keeps going, it's when you don't even have a body to bury. And how can anyone mourn an angel, anyway?

When Cas died, he took everything that was beautiful and worth living for with him leaving behind only memories of touches, and comfort an protection and the painful realization that sometimes home can, also, be a person. All the things that Dean, damn coward he is, always took for granted.

He finds the house by the lake he (still) dreams of sometimes, one day he's aimlessly driving, alone, always alone those days, when Sam is far away living the life he always wanted for both of them. The construction is sturdy and well-kept despite the obvious state of abandonment. It looks like a nice place to start over again, whatever that means now.

Next to a big tree that still smells of rain Dean buries his jacket, the one with Cas's handprint on it, because he doesn't have anything else and thinks Cas might have liked it. Dean doesn't know how it feelt to be in The Garden of Eden before everything happened, but he wants to thinks it looked a lot like this, to be able to rest under a sky full of stars.

He doesn't notice the tiny flower that appears over Cas's grave at first, because after only a month there there's still a lot to do but once he does he can't simply stop staring at it. It's small and blue and a species he doesn't recognize. Not that he knows a lot about flowers but he's learning. Maybe it doesn't means anything, probably it doesn't means anything, but he prefers to think that Cas's memory, the physical imprint of an angel existence on Earth, has helped to grow a new life. So he starts taking a bit of his time to talk to the tiny flower everyday. Most of the time is nothing of importance, short trips to the nearest town to buy supplies he needs, a new idea he want to implements in the upper floor of the cabin, but some things are small and life-changing on their own, because in the folks in the town have started calling him by his first name, and he has an 'usual' when he appears at the local coffee shop and the old woman that owns the bakery uses him as her guinea pig when she bakes a new pie.

Time goes and the flower grows and the pressure around his chest is less constricting even if it doesn't disappear completely and probably never will but Dean's fine with it. It's a proof that he's still alive and kicking and that Cas, in his own way, changed him too.

One day the flower is gone and there's a familiar silhouette standing in front of the lake. Fifty-years old-knees from a life hunting can hurt like hell when Dean sprints toward a man that can be real or can be just his imagination playing tricks on him but the blue in his eyes when he turns over and call Dean's name in that soft voice of his, looks like the blue of the flower that Dean nurtured with patience and love for months. It looks a lot like happiness. It looks a lot like hope. 🌿

[annmariethrush]

Eventually I’ll write my magnum opus, a 15x18 fix it crack fic where Dean gets ground hog day stuck in the S3 ghostfacers episode immediately after Cas’s death. he has to go through this stupid ghost hunt over and over while he comes to terms with Cas’s confession and tries to ignore his own feelings until he realizes that some cosmic force is trying to show him something. Gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day. Finally, hundreds of ghostfacers! Episodes later he finally, teary eyed and distraught, admits that maybe Ed and Harry, insane and stupid though they are, may be right and that he has to admit his feelings for his poor dead angel to get him back.

This naturally turns out to be an act of Gabriel who is still somehow not dead, and we find out at the end that the real kicker is that time hasn’t actually really been on loop and that Dean has been stuck living that day over and over while Sam thinks that he’s dead as per 15x20 because as much as Gabriel wants to finally see Dean and Cas get together after being around since the beginning of the world’s greatest love story, he also just really fucking HATES Sam for some reason and wants to make him suffer by spending months thinking Dean is dead for real no take backs on a stupid hunt after they defeated god. Ultimately, much like his revival in S13, Dean’s love wakes Cas up in the empty, allowing Jack to free him, which was the plan all along, Gabriel just got to have too much fun with the plan after convincing Jack it wouldn’t work if they just told him

[casdeans-pie]

Dean asks Cas to teach him Enochian.

So Cas teaches him Enochian.

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

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

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

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

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

[th30ra3k3n]

because my love for you is far greater than words,

i’ve decided to keep quiet.

(nizar qabbani)

for @disasterpenguin 🖤