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dothwrites · 4 years

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Destiel + "can I hold your hand?" uWUWUWUWUWUWu

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Dean’s too excited to be invited to Charlie’s party to remember to ask who else will be there. He regrets his short-sightedness when he walks into her house. It seems as though the entire population of their high school is located in her living room and Dean recognizes no one.

An all-too familiar anxiety settles in his bones. He should be used to this by now; he’s been the new kid at school too many times to count. He and Sam hardly believed Dad when he said they were settling permanently in Pontiac, Illinois, but three weeks in and Dad hasn’t made noises of moving yet. Which is fine, but having a permanent mailing address means Dean actually has to make friends. Sam, the little freak, already has a host of buddies attached to him by the end of his first day (it’s not weird that Dean watches his little brother from across the cafeteria, all right, he’s just being a good brother and making sure Sam is fitting in), but Dean remains woefully unattached.

Enter Charlie Bradbury, tech genius and actual human ray of sunshine. Seeing Dean’s pathetic attempts at creating lasting connections, Charlie had taken him under her proverbial wing and introduced him to her impressively wide circle of friends.

Dorothy, Kevin, Jo, Benny, Gilda, Victor, Hannah, Inias, Anna, Gabriel--the names and faces flew past him. Only one stuck.

Castiel.

Dean knows he stares when Charlie introduces Castiel, but who could blame him? With those big blue eyes, sharp jaw, and a voice that sounds like he’s been gargling gravel even at seventeen, Dean’s willing to bet a lot of people stare at Castiel. It’s too bad that Castiel doesn’t seem interested in making the slightest overture at friendliness. He’s not rude but also not interested. Every time Dean tries to start a conversation, Castiel answers him in as few words as possible before making an excuse to leave. Dean’s fairly certain his last one was I have to clean the gutters. And Dean’s not stupid, he can take a hint (even if takes him about five times to figure it out). Castiel’s not interested in being friends (or anything more god forbid).

Which is fine. Dean has plenty of friends.

Too bad he can’t find any of them at this party.

He forces his way through the crowd, ignoring the elbows and red solo cups thrown his way. The music (some awful Top 40 pop crap) blares, and Dean makes a note to take over the speakers at Charlie’s next party.

Dean would love to give Charlie shit about it now, but he can’t find her anywhere. He makes his way from the living room into the kitchen and still finds no sign of his friends. The door to the back porch calls to him like a siren song and Dean slips outside before anyone ever has a chance to notice he’s gone.

Dean closes the door behind him, thankfully shutting out most of the noise and the godawful music. Outside, it’s not nearly as humid, less so when a cool breeze drifts by. Dean sighs in relief as the sweat cools on the back of his neck. It’s only then he realizes he’s not alone.

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the patio, illuminated by the weak glow of a porch-light, sits Castiel. Dean’s mouth goes dry as he watches Castiel take a deep sip from his solo cup, throat working as he swallows. It’s only when Castiel lowers the cup that he catches sight of Dean. He sputters on his last swallow, coughing as his lungs reject whatever liquid he just tried to give them.

“Dean,” he finally rasps, carelessly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I didn’t...I didn’t think you would be here.”

Amazingly, Dean feels disappointed. “Why? Did you think that I was too lame for this?”

Castiel blinks. “No,” he says, surprise in his voice. “I thought...weren’t you going out with Anna tonight?”

Dean vaguely remembers Anna hinting that she and a few of her friends were headed out to see a band downtown, but it hadn’t sounded like his scene. He does think that Castiel might have been standing in the background of that conversation, but he hadn’t thought the other boy was paying attention.

“No. I mean, she asked, but...no.”

“Oh. Well, all right then.” There’s something pleased in Castiel’s eyes as he ducks his head. Dean thinks he catches a hint of a smile.

“Wait,” he says, feeling like he got this whole thing very wrong. “Were you...Cas, were you jealous?”

“No,” Castiel says, a little too quickly. “You can do whatever you like.” He punctuates the statement with another drink, swift and furious.

Dean walks over to the bench Cas is sitting on. He sits down and notes the quick dart of Castiel’s eyes to the minimal distance separating them. “So why aren’t you inside?” Castiel finally asks, his eyes on the few stars visible from the suburbs.

Dean shrugs. “’S too hot in there. I don’t know anyone. Shitty music.” A disheartening thought strikes. “Why? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No!” Cas answers a little too quickly. “I mean...no. Stay. Please. I like talking to you.”

Dean scoffs. “Dude, you’ve said like...three full sentences to me. Kind of takes more than that to have a conversation.”

“I’ve said more,” Cas protests. When Dean levels a stare at him, he relents. “You’re...very distracting sometimes.” Cas’ eyes flick down to Dean’s lips. “All the time,” he amends, his own tongue dabbing at his lower lip.

Warmth blooms in Dean’s chest. “Cas...do you...” He grins for a moment as a world of new possibilities opens up to him. “Do you like me?”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this.” Cas draws his knees up to his chest, obviously resigned. “I mean, I’d appreciate it--”

“Hold up,” Dean interrupts. It looks like he and Cas are going to have to get a hell of a lot better at this communication thing; they both misread this situation so badly. “What if I want to make a big deal about it?” Cas looks towards him, his forehead creased in obvious misery, and Dean sighs in frustration. “Not like that, I just mean...Look, can I hold your hand?”

The skin of the back of Dean’s neck prickles with a blush (amazing how much of an idiot Cas turns him into), but it’s worth it for the look of slowly dawning realization on Cas’ face. Even better is when Cas stretches out his hand, palm up towards Dean.

Dean’s hand slides overtop Cas’ before his fingers lace smoothly between Cas’. He wraps his fingers onto the back of Cas’ hand, something pleased jangling in him at the look of their clasped hands.

“I thought you kind of hated me,” Dean breathes, transfixed by Cas’ palm, dry and warm, against his.

“No,” Cas agrees, his own voice faint. His thumb presses daringly into Dean’s skin. “Quite the opposite.”

“Oh.” Dean grins and Cas matches his expression, his lips spreading in a wide, gummy smile. Inside his chest, his heart performs a series of Olympic worthy somersaults. Somewhere, a choir sings a hallelujah chorus. “Well, that’s good I guess. ‘Cause I really like you.”

They stay there, ignoring the music and sounds from within the house, their hands clasped together on Dean’s lap, and watch the stars late into the night.

---

tags underneath cut--message/reply to be added or removed <3

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @dizzypinwheel @rogerslouis @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @stay-inside-the-salt-ring @deansbff @spaceshipkat @espejonight28738 @proccastinate @organicpurplepants @apieceofurmind @good-things-do-happen-dean @thewolfatmydoor

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #highschool au #fluff #dean and cas are bad at communication #but it all works out well in the end #dothwrites

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eunoiastarz · 3 years

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adding horrible depths to bartholomews and inias’ relationship by saying inias was the one who told him to run and hide

#inias probably felt so helpless during that attack #just—- if he could save someone.#them meeting in the empty would kill me #because inias is left wondering why his wings are torn and he doesn’t look as young anymore #they just looked at each other until bartholomew tells him that surviving was worse.#cr y in. g <3 #->#spn angels #the garrison #inias #bartholomew

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ursamaioris-blog · 7 years

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[ inia-ad ] ❛ Are you telling the truth? ❜

🌲 ° • ? ( QUESTION SENTENCE STARTERS: @inia-ad

“Claro que sim, Inia! Por que eu estaria mentindo sobre ter visto um.. zumbi?” o moreno fez uma expressão de descontentamento, quase indignação. Por que mentiria sobre aquilo o que mais acreditava existir? E que estava comprovado, também! Por mais improvável que a teoria aparentasse ser, se Dipper que faz parte da ciência e entende-a, podia acreditar, o que os outros tendem a achar tão dificultoso em suas palavras para compreenderem junto? “Diz essas coisas porque não viu também, hmph.” entortou sua expressão, encarando a outra.

#( ;; pine tree 🌲 ask. )#( ;; pine tree 🌲 w: inia-ad. )

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bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years

Text

Suptober Day 6: Mask

LoveBlock

Mature / A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show AU / Destiel / 2,735 words (Incomplete)

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Week 1

Castiel Novak tugged at the starched collar of his shirt, shifting from foot to foot in too-tight shoes. It was customary that the Alpha wore a tuxedo to the initial meeting though he wished that he’d insisted on that changing as well. The network had wanted something big for the fifth season of LoveBlock, something different. When Castiel got the call that he was one of the finalists chosen to be that year’s Alpha, he’d been understandably confused given that he’d not entered.

Change #1: Alphas were nominated by family or friends. Thanks, Gabriel.

Castiel did everything he could to throw the interview. He was gruff, unsmiling, and showed up with bedhead wearing the hideous trench coat their grandmother gave him when he’d gone off to college. He went out of his way to be cantankerous and rude, refusing to answer some questions and providing terrible answers to others.

Change #2: The chosen Alpha was quiet, withdrawn, and definitely not interested in finding their true mate. One might even call him an asshole.

In the end, Castiel had agreed to participate for two reasons and two reasons only. Gabriel would be given a huge promotion based on the fact that he’d convinced someone with no desire to be on the show to be their grumpy, jerk of an Alpha for the season, thus finally getting him out of Castiel’s condo. And the other…

Change #3: Contestants could reject the Alpha meaning any contestant that dropped out before Hometown week would be competing on a new network show, EscapePlan, to win $50,000. If the Alpha made it to the finale with any contestants left, he and his chosen mate would both win $100,000

“Stop fidgeting.” Gabriel nudged Castiel in such a way that the point of his elbow rolled painfully over the bone in his bicep, a practiced move he’d perfected when they were children.

Castiel flinched away but stood straighter. “My feet hurt. Why does the Alpha have to be in formal dress? The other contestants have to show their personalities not just with their masks but their clothes too. Why-“

“Shhh, my boss is coming!” Gabriel muttered out of the side of his mouth before stepping forward and extending his hand. “Mr. Shurley! So glad you could make it!”

Chuck Shurley gave a small, friendly wave in lieu of shaking Gabriel’s hand, and Gabe dropped it cringing. “Sorry, no offense man I just don’t shake hands. Nothing personal, promise.”

“No no, sorry I uh, forgot.” Gabe scratched his ear before he turned abruptly to Castiel. “You remember my brother.”

“Yes, of course. I liked the promos you did. They were very controversial. Exactly what we were looking for.” Chuck gave Castiel a nod. Castiel pressed his lips together in a caricature of a smile, but his disdain was evident. Chuck just grinned. “Gonna be a good season.” He looked over his shoulder at the commotion as Fergus Crowley moved towards them.

“Gents,” he said by way of greeting. “Chuck,” he added with a smirk, and Chuck gave a rueful smile in return.

“Glad to have you back, Crowley.” Chuck’s tone implied he was not remotely glad to have Crowley back.

“Glad you agreed to my demands during contract negotiations.” Crowley beamed with a smarmy grin.

Castiel looked to Gabriel who’s lips were puckered, eyes rolling up to look at the palm trees hanging over where they stood at the edge of the beach house’s wide circular drive. That was the face Gabe made when he was trying not to laugh. Castiel began to open his mouth to ask when he received another sharp jab to his upper arm.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Gabe gestured towards the space to the left where Castiel assumed visitors would park but was now lit and prepped for Crowley’s opening remarks before the cattle call began.

How do we fall in love? Do we see someone across the room, strike up a conversation, and the rest is history? Do we catch a whiff of a tantalizing or homey scent and follow the instincts of our secondary gender all the way to mating? Or is it possible to fall in love without seeing someone’s face? Without catching their scent?

For the last four seasons, we’ve been asking this question and so followed four alphas on the journey to true love. We watched them try and see past the contestants’ masks, week after week. We saw scent bonds break emotional bonds once the blockers came off. And we cheered when our Alpha looked into the face of his or her potential One True Mate.

This year, we do it again with an entirely new set of rules and an Alpha as you’ve never seen one. Welcome to LoveBlock.

The first limousine slithered up the drive toward Castiel, and he stood stock-still, hands crossed in front of himself. Gabriel had said it made him look like security and not the show’s Alpha, so Castiel had decided that would be how he would stand for the rest of his life. He did his best to ignore the camera to his left and the six or so people behind it as well as the camera to the right and its gaggle of crew meant to capture the contestants as he rushed over to help the contestant climb out of the limo.

Castiel stayed put, the moment stretching, and finally, the door opened, and what looked like the head of a wolf peeked out. “Um.”

“Come on then,” Castiel unclasped his hands to motion them forward, and he could hear the person give a stuttered, o-o-oh…, before a motorcycle boot appeared out the door. A slender woman in a leather jacket and jeans with a frighteningly furry mask walked over to him.

Castiel squinted his eyes. “You’re a horror fan.”

He felt the woman’s surprise more than saw it because well, obviously, and her voice was breathless when she asked, “How did you know?”

Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes, but his tone made his disdain clear. “Lucky guess.”

The woman hugged him anyway and went off to her first impression interview.

Hannah, Office Assistant, Beta

“Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said this Alpha was different! I mean still handsome,” Hannah paused, to tip her head from side to side, shifting the wolf-head mask in her lap, “which won’t matter in the end I know, I know. But if the guy is gonna be grumpy to start?” Hannah’s blue eyes widened emphatically as she pushed out her lower lip and her huff made her dark bangs flutter. “It’s nice that’s he’s something to look at, you know?”

And so it went for three more contestants. April, a plain brunette Beta who wore safety goggles and a medical mask, was deeply unimpressed that Castiel didn’t understand that she was a dental hygienist from her face coverings. Inias, a male Omega in a suit and the plain, white drama mask they used for group dates before The Scenting, told Castiel he’d have to work to get to know him. Castiel immediately decided he was going home that night. Then Kevin, an Omega college student wearing a giant paper mâché pie on his head, but instead of the typical latticed crust, it contained the numbers 3.14 because he liked math as well as desserts.

There was a bit of a delay after the fifth contestant exited the limo in an evening gown, fiery red hair pulled into an elegant up-do, wearing a printed paper mask with Crowley’s face on it.

“Mother!”

The woman huffed and halted barely two steps out of the limo. “Fergus, you’ve ruined the take! D’you want me to do it again?”

Castiel was intrigued by her Scottish burr as well as the fact that Gabriel had managed to get Fergus Crowley’s mother to compete on the show her son hosted and that was notorious for hookups with at least one group nude exhibition a season. That had to be some kind of miracle from the TV gods. Gabe did say he felt like this season had been blessed.

Once the yelling stopped, and Rowena, mother of one, Beta sashayed off to do her interview, the limo returned with another contestant. Word must have gotten out that he wasn’t opening the door for anyone, so this time, there was no wait, the door swinging open, and a hand curled over the top of the car while a dusty boot hit the ground. A fit young man pulled himself out, wearing a ripped pair of jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with a green and black plaid flannel over it, a welding mask covering his face. Castiel nearly rolled his eyes again as the man strode forward, hand extended.

“Hey man, D-”

Castiel cut him off as he clasped his hand tight, feeling the roughness of his palm, callouses on the fingertips. “You’re an artist.”

The welding mask tipped to the side, the man’s body stiffening before his grip became crushing, a throaty chuckle echoing from behind the metal. “Not even close. Mechanic.” Castiel winced as his hand was pumped vigorously. “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet ya.”

Castiel looked off-camera to Gabe. “I thought you said you weren’t bringing in Alphas this year.” His attention returned to Dean as he laughed harder this time.

“Wrong again. Man, this is gonna be fun.” Castiel jumped as one large hand clapped hard against his sternum twice before Dean began to walk away.

Castiel turned to watch him go, taking in his bow-legged gait as he entered the house to go do his first impression interview.

Dean was directed to a stool in the entryway situated in front of a camera and surrounded by lights. He plopped down, heaving a sigh as he flipped up his welding mask before pulling it off his head. He tried his best to ignore the murmurs from the women behind the camera as he dropped it to the floor with one hand, patting his hair down with the other. When he looked up, he could see everyone behind the camera had red eyes, except for the redheaded woman with the clipboard who looked annoyed.

“Sorry about them,” she muttered, jutting a thumb over her shoulder, and the Alphas blinked themselves back to brown or blue, “but in their defense I’m a Beta and a lesbian and woof your face is still pretty impressive.”

Dean managed to fight a blush as he gave a good-natured laugh. “It’s fine I get that a lot.” Dean shifted on his stool, situating his face into a calm, attentive expression, and waited for the Beta producer to look her fill.

“If you could start by stating your name, occupation and secondary gender for the graphics team. This is what will show at the bottom of the screen during your interviews.”

Dean gave a short nod. “I’m Dean Winchesteeeer…” He reached up to scratch at his ear. “Uh, mechanic.” He flicked up a hand and took a deep breath, sighing out, “Omega,” before letting his hand fall to his knee with a thump. It wasn’t enough to mask the unmistakable interested growls of the Alphas on the crew. The producer actually looked over her shoulder and glared at them.

“Go outside. All of you. Yes all of you the camera is stationary and already rolling I can turn it off when we’re done. Thank you. Byyyyyyye.”

Dean chuckled as the alpha cameraman and the other two, whatever they did, sulked away to the snack table. Dean let his amusement sit on his face as he looked back at the producer, who gave him a strained smile. “Sorry, again.”

“Not a problem. I figured I’d be just another piece of meat here anyway.” Dean gave an unaffected wave, and the producer frowned, marked something on her clipboard.

“I’m Charlie Bradbury-“

“Executive producer.” Dean nodded and stretched out a hand. “Nice to put a face to the name in the credits.”

Charlie shook his hand and gave him a surprised smile. “You watch the show?”

“Yeah!” Dean’s face scrunched as if to say, of course, I do, and Charlie tried to force back a laugh but only succeeded in choking herself. She knew the resulting grin he gave her was going to turn Alphas’ eyes red on couches across the country when this aired.

“So did you nominate yourself?”

Dean snorted. “No, no. I was completely content with this being my Thursday night guilty pleasure,” the guy actually licked his lips after he said it, and Charlie made a note to check if he’d done any acting. “My little brother actually nominated me. Said I need to find a nice Alpha and settle down.”

“That’s sweet.” Charlie jotted down, interview brother. “How old is your brother?”

“22,” Dean gave a casual shrug of his shoulder at Charlie’s questioning blink. “Yeah I know he’s also 6’4 so he’s really not that little but old habits die hard ya know? He’s in his first year at law school. He actually started watching the show his freshman year of college. It was one of those excuses to get everyone on the floor in the rec room and make friends.” Dean turned his head, squinting at the camera. “There may also have been a girl involved.”

Charlie let herself laugh this time. “But you also watch the show you said.”

Dean gave a nod. “Yeah, I mean he was in college and I didn’t understand half the shit… er, sorry.” Dean winced, and Charlie waved a hand before giving a sharp clap of her hands that made Dean jump.

“It’s so audio can find the cut faster. Makes a big jagged line in the file,” Charlie explained, and Dean’s eyebrows rose, lips twisting in an impressed expression. “Can you begin again at ‘I didn’t understand?’”

Dean cleared his throat and shifted on his stool again. “Uh yeah, um. I didn’t understand have the things he was talking about. I mean like I said I’m just a mechanic with a GED and a give em hell attitude.” He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless. She was definitely going to be rooting for this guy. “But he went on and on about the show because, like I said,” Dean widened his eyes and muttered conspiratorially through closed teeth, “there may have been a girl involved,” He shook his head and smile. “So I started watching just to have something to talk about with him.” Dean rubbed his palms up and down his thighs a few times. “Well and to help the poor kid talk to the girl. He’s smart and an Alpha but man is he bad with the ladies.” Dean gave a smirk that morphed into a grin before he looked at the floor.

“So are you looking for your One True Mate?” Charlie felt a warm flutter in her chest as Dean lifted his head, green eyes wide and full lips parted in genuine surprise before a blush began to creep up his neck.

“Ah… you know…” Dean grimaced and hissed, giving the camera a side-eye. “I’m not sure they exist.” He gave a shrug. “I mean, that Alpha out there?” Dean jutted a thumb over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Not a bad looking dude. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.” Dean smirked again and chuckled. “But did my insides go gooey at the first whiff of his scent?” Dean scrunched his nose and shook his head.

Charlie smiled. “What did he smell like to you?”

Dean rolled his eyes before closing them and doing a slow-motion fist pump as he mouthed yes. “The first smell montage. Seriously,” Dean gestured with both hands splaying his fingers and then wiggling them excitedly. “It’s my favorite.”

He cleared his throat as Charlie laughed again.

“Uh…hmmmm.” He pursed his lips, looking up and to the right, and Charlie was convicted this guy had at least modeled before because he found the light instantly. His eyes tightened just enough to slant his expression into a sultry stare but let the green of his eyes stay visible. “Rain.” He gave a satisfied nod and looked back at her. “Or, really, a thunderstorm. That thick smell before the thunder and lightening show starts.”

He nodded again, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. “Which seems pretty appropriate given the circumstances.”

#suptober20 #suptober #destiel #spn fanfic #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me

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the-real-anywolf · 5 years

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Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: Snow Angels

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, First Kiss, Movie Reference, Unexpected Snowfamily, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, It’s Gross, Sam Eats Real Pork Bacon, Frankie Made Me Tag That, Because She Thinks He's Canonically Vegetarian, And I Love My Muggsy So...

Summary: After an unexpected snowstorm hits Kansas, Dean and Sam decide to teach Cas about the joys of a snow day.

Written by: @eyesofatragedy67 (Eyes_of_a_Tragedy)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665974

Snow Angels

Dean woke up at ass o'clock and stumbled his way to the kitchen. Coffee. He desperately needed coffee.

With all the patience of a child, he bypassed the fancy coffeemaker Sam had purchased and grabbed some instant and a mug from the cabinet over the microwave. It was gross, but, dude, caffeine.

Cup of joe in hand, he popped a new filter in Sam's fancy gizmo and poured in some grounds from Cas's stash in the freezer. Setting it to drip, he shuffled up the stairs to the front door and hauled it open.

Fluffy white stuff toppled through the opening, landing at his feet. It wasn't an avalanche like in the animes he secretly enjoyed (Shut up, okay? So what if he watched shojo every now and then?), more like a foot or so of snow.

He dumped the remainder of his coffee into the snow on the outer stoop and scooped some of the fresh stuff into his empty mug. Excited now, he jogged down the stairs and ran down the hall toward the bedrooms.

Bursting through Sam's door, he upended the mug right on his brother's face. "Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam sputtered awake, jackknifing up from his prone position. "Wha-"

He wiped his hand over his face and pulled it back, shaking off the melting slush. Dean watched, waiting for it to click.

Glancing down at his lap, which was now a pool of semi-solid snow, Sam asked, "Did you dump snow on my face?"

Dean chuckled.

Realization flitting across Sam's face, he repeated, "You dumped snow on my face!"

Grinning, Dean turned to leave the room. "Sure did, bitch! Get your ass dressed. Coffee's brewing. I'mma go see if I can find Cas. We're having a snow day!"

He didn't wait for Sam's response, but he could feel the 'jerk' aimed at his retreating form.

Dean did a cursory check of the bunker, but his finely feathered friend was nowhere to be found. Making a pit stop at his room, he layered up for proper snow play, then followed the sounds of banging in the kitchen. He found Sam preparing a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and fresh fruit.

"Bacon, Sam? Did I traumatize you?"

Bitch face firmly planted, Sam replied, "I know you. We're going to be out there forever. We'll need the protein. Did you find Cas?"

"No, I'm gonna try angel radio in a few minutes." He snagged a strip of bacon from the plate it was draining on. "Mmm, yummy pork."

Sam rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were tilted in a smile. His brother prepped plates for them both and placed them on the table. Dean grabbed utensils and the roll of paper towels.

"You want orange juice or milk, Sammy?"

Sam opted for OJ, so Dean poured two glasses and sat down to eat. When they were done - Sam having stolen a piece of Dean's bacon, and Dean swiping a grape and strawberry from Sam's plate - Sam grabbed the dishes, and Dean sat back to pray.

"Red rover, red rover, can Castiel come over? If you can hear me, buddy, well-"

There was the signature fwup that heralded Castiel's appearance, along with a tension that was probably just in Dean's head. Or pants.

"I don't understand your red rover reference, Dean. Is it about Opportunity? I can assure you, she's in a far better place than-"

Dean interrupted, "I remember, Cas. But that’s not what meant. I’ll explain it to you later,” he promised. “It's a winter wonderland outside, and Sam and I are going to have a snow day. You want in?"

Cas did that head tilt thing Dean had grown so fond of. "What is a snow day?"

Dean's head whipped toward Sam, who had a look on his face that was morphing from disbelief to glee. Grinning, the brothers turned toward Cas, and Dean asked, "Do you want to build a snowman, Cas?"

.... :::: :::: ....

Bundled up in all the layers they could find, Sam and Dean joined Cas in the war room.

Dean was making a list on the note app on his phone. "We need supplies, Sammy."

Sam dropped a duffel on the table. "I'm way ahead of you, man."

Dean grinned and patted the pocket of his jacket. There was something special in there. "Awesome. C'mon, Cas, let's go outside and start your education."

Carefully trudging up the outside stairs, Dean led the trio to the edge of the woods. "Okay, Cas," Dean clapped his gloved hands together, "follow my lead."

Dean started rolling the ball that would be the base of his snowman, watching as Cas's pile of snow grew larger. He reached over and helped position Cas's hands, shaping the pile into something rounder.

"Yeah, like that. You just make that as big as you want it, alright, because we're going to put another one on top of it." He glanced over to find Sam already on his second stack. He pointed and Cas’s gaze followed. “Like that. Your goal is to create a base big enough to build on, then you’re going to add another until you’ve got a humanoid shape. Got it?”

“I understand, Dean.” He watched, eyebrow quirked, as Cas started molding a much larger shape, then shrugged it off. The angel would figure it out.

Dean finished his base, then got to work on the middle layer. He became absorbed, humming under his breath as he packed the snow. When he had the head done, he looked over to see Sam was accessorizing his creation and explaining it to Cas.

“Yeah, you decorate it however you want. Mine is a moose, so I need to find some branches to make into antlers.”

“Oh.” Cas was doing that adorable head tilt thing, and Dean held back a laugh when he continued, “Inias is a panda, so I don’t think he would have decorations?”

"Why do I know that name?" Dean asked.

Cas looked over with wounded eyes. "Inias is one of my fallen brethren. We were… very close."

A lightbulb went off in Dean's head. "Dark hair, blue eyes, 'bout your height? Showed up with that bitch Hester a while back?"

Cas nodded. "Yes."

"He seemed like a good guy."

The small smile gracing Cas's face was a vast improvement over the pain of just minutes before.

Sam paused in the middle of buttoning one of his flannels around his moose’s torso. “Hmm, what if we grab some of the paint from the basement and paint him?”

Dean went back to examining his snowman. “Okay, brother, let’s get you suited up, hmm?”

He found two decent arm sticks, ones with a bit of bulk to them, then quickly removed his jacket and a light blue flannel. Putting the leather back on, he wrapped the snowman in the cotton then pulled the first item out of his pocket. He walked to the back of it and attached two clips to the bottom of the shirt, then laid the straps over the shoulders. Back at his snowman’s front, he hooked the ends of the suspenders to the front of the shirt and stepped back to examine his work.

So far, so good.

Dean looked over to see Sam’s moose finished; he’d gently wrapped toilet paper around the sticks to make them look more like antlers, crafty bastard, and there was a cocktail glass with a paper umbrella and a pitchfork in one of its moose-y mitts. He felt a moment of grief, but it was quickly replaced with fond memories. Some of which Sam would never know about, thank you very much.

His brother was now helping Cas delicately apply paint to his snowpanda. It was looking pretty good. Dean rummaged through Sam’s bag, knowing there would be charcoal briquettes in there for eyes. He took two, then moved back to his sculpture.

Gingerly pushing the lumps of coal into place, he whispered in a hokey accent, “You been a bad boy, mon ami.” Then he pulled a treasured cap out of his pocket and situated it on top of his head. Almost done. “Don’t be mad. I know these aren’t yours, but you need teeth, ‘k?” He crammed a set of plastic vampire teeth into the head and stood back, laughing and somewhat offended on his friend’s behalf.

Glancing at Sam, he could see his brother’s understanding. And Cas had a similar look on his face. He nodded at them and said, “Snowpire.”

They both smiled at him indulgently as he added the final touch - a single drop of blood from the fingertip he’d pricked and applied to the tip of a fang.

Looking over, he threw out, “Mental note to sterilize all of this stuff later, Sam,” and got an affirmative in response.

Cas reached into his pocket and came back out with two pieces of clear blue rock in his hand. They were rough, with jagged edges, but smooth on the surface. His friend placed them where the eyes would go and leaned in close, whispering something under his breath that Dean couldn’t quite make out. He caught the word “cupcake”, though, and it made him smile.

The three of them drew back to view the finished products. Dean clasped Cas’s shoulder and said, “Good job for your first try. Next time we’ll have to-” but got no further due to the face full of snow Sam had just thrown at him.

Wiping his wet glove over his now wet face, he barked out “Oh, it’s on, bitch!” He ran in one direction, Sam in the opposite, taunting all the way, while Cas stood there looking perplexed. Dean packed a handful of fluffy ice into a solid mass fit for lobbing at little brothers.

Chucking it toward Sam, he quickly realized there was too much distance between them. Sam must have reached the same conclusion because he was no longer looking in Dean’s direction. Instead, ball of snow firmly in hand, he was eyeing Cas standing conveniently between them. Dean packed another and glanced back at his brother, nodding his understanding. The two of them let their ammunition fly, hitting their target from both sides.

Cas’s reaction was less than satisfying. “Why are you throwing ice at me?”

Dean scooped up some more and casually walked over to him. “Well, buddy, this is another part of snow days. You might understand better if I explain it to you in other terms, though. See...” he stepped closer, slung an arm around Cas’s shoulders and trailed his gloved fingers over the back of his neck. “This, Cas? This is war.” And he dumped the handful of ice down the back of Cas’s shirt.

Again, not the reaction he was going for, but he recognized that twitch in Cas’s eyes and started running. “War? War is something I was strategizing before your species learned about fire. I was orchestrating armies while your ancestors were-” SPLAT!

Dean doubled over with laughter as Sam yelled out, “You talk a big game, but you know jack shit about snowball fights!”

Oh, shit! His brother had a death wish. One minute Cas was standing, head tilted in that menacing way Dean remembered from day one; the next he was launching snowballs with unearthly accuracy and speed. And Sam wasn’t his only target.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find his friend-turned-foe standing with both hands loaded. Dean was on the receiving end of two very cold hits to the face. He gasped in shock, then howled uproariously. He grabbed up his own heap of snow and shoved it right in Cas’s face then turned and ran toward his brother, who would make a far more convenient target.

Cas chased, and the three of them tossed snow at each other until the brothers were too exhausted to run anymore. “Truce!” Dean screamed, Sam nodding in agreement. “I beg for forgiveness, Cas! We underestimated you. You win!”

The transformation of his angel’s face was a thing of beauty. Victory looked good on him. Dean flopped back into the snow drift he was standing in and waited for his breathing to return to normal. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to up his cardio.

Sam flopped down near him, breathing much more managed. He started flapping his arms and legs in the snow, and Dean grinned and followed suit. Cas approached them, brow furrowed with confusion.

“What are you doing now? Is this some form of exercise to increase your circulation?”

Dean stood up carefully and waved Cas over. “Nah, this is snow angels.” He pointed to the leg area and explained that it was supposed to resemble the skirt area of how angels were always depicted in artwork.

Cas nodded and moved to the side and gestured at the arms. “So, these are supposed to be the wings?”

“Yeah,” Dean rubbed at the base of his skull. “I mean, I know it’s nowhere near accurate, but it’s fun. You wanna try?”

Sam crawled out of his snow angel and ambled over to watch as Cas walked to the clear area above their figures. He laid down in the snow, and Dean waited for him to start moving, knowing it would be a sight worth remembering. Instead, he stared in awe as a set of impressions appeared to either side of Cas’s shoulders, stretching out for yards.

He heard Sam’s gasp, then, “Cas, are those your wings?”

“Yes. They aren’t visible on the mortal plain, but I can display them indirectly if I use enough grace.”

Dean looked over to see an expression of child-like wonder on his brother’s face. “That’s so cool!” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, then stepped back to snap a pic. “I think we should get this framed.” Then he moved to photograph all of their other snow creations.

Dean stood at Cas’s feet and breathed out, “They’re amazing, Cas.”

The actual angel actually blushed. “Thank you.” He reached up and Dean gently drew him to his feet, so as not to disturb the imprint his angel left behind.

Sam called out, “I’m gonna go make some cocoa! Do you two want some?”

They both nodded, and Sam clambered down the stairs to the bunker, taking his duffel bag with him.

Dean looked back at Cas, who appeared to be having some kind of internal debate. “What’s wrong?”

The corner of Cas’s mouth quirked up, and he shook his head. “Nothing at all. I was just wondering if you know how often you think of me as your angel. I don’t listen to your thoughts intentionally, but you also stopped putting up a wall.”

It was Dean’s turn to blush. “Umm, yeah,” he spoke to the snowy ground. “Sorry about that.”

He felt warm fingers tilt his head back up. “Don’t be, Dean Winchester. I’ve been yours since the moment I saw your soul shining in the darkest depths. And I’ll be yours until all of the stars burn out.”

A tear fell from the corner of his eye, and Dean reached up to brush a stray snowflake from Cas’s cheek. He inhaled deeply, the chill air burning in his lungs. “Cas…”

His angel grinned at him, then leaned in and whispered against his lips, “I know.”

They kissed, and it was soft and sweet and everything Dean had ever wanted from this man. Well, almost.

“I swear, Cas. If you tell Sam you just Solo’d me, I’ll find a way to pluck your feathers and make a pillow out of them.”

Cas laughed, and it was glorious. “Your secret is safe with me,” he replied.

.... :::: :::: ....

It was nearing midnight on Christmas Eve, and Dean was curled up in his angel’s arms on the sofa they’d moved into the Dean Cave, watching “It’s A Wonderful Life”.

He was just about to comment on the fact that a certain dark-haired demon must have been fond of this film when both of their phones pinged. Shuffling around to reach into their pockets, they each found a new message.

Dean wondered why his brother was texting them from down the hall. He and Cas both checked the message to find an all caps “MERRY CHRISTMAS, JERKS” followed by an attachment. Cas was the first to open it, smiling radiantly at what he saw on the screen.

He turned his phone to Dean and started the video again. “I think he knows.” Dean saw zoomed in footage of the two of them, kissing in the snow. You could easily make out Dean’s astonishment and Cas’s teasing response.

Dean grabbed the cell and typed in a response. “We love you, too, bitch.” Then he tossed both phones on the table and pressed Cas down into the cushions, pillowing his head on his chest. A bell rang on screen, signaling an angel got his wings.

#Destiel Advent Calendar 2019 #fanfiction #destiel #christmas short fics

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punk-is-notdead · 5 years

Text

Fic Title: When the Levee Breaks, by tfw_cas and Eyes_of_a_Tragedy

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Castiel (Supernatural) Dean Winchester Inias... kinda Balthazar... also kinda Sam Winchester (mentioned) Friends to Lovers Cassexual Dean Winchester First Kiss Smut Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural) Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Dirty Talk Frottage Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester Anal Sex Dom/sub Undertones Castiel (Supernatural)'s Dom Brow POV Castiel (Supernatural) Dean's A Marshmallow Abuse Of A Stuffed Animal Lions and Tigers and Bears oh my! Balthazar Knew Finding Love at the Carnival Happy Birthday Any!!

Summary: Dean takes Castiel to the carnival to show him the ultimate human experience, but Castiel isn’t interested in going on any of the rides, after hearing the customers’ screams. He is drawn to the duck shoot, however, and the prize of a stuffed panda; but it takes the help of his favourite hunter to win the toy, and in the process he might just have won his heart too.

AO3

When Dean told Castiel that he was going to treat him to the ultimate human experience, this wasn’t quite what Castiel had envisaged. He looked around the carnival in confusion, trying to figure out why anyone would find this entertaining.

A particularly loud scream caused him to look over at one of the ‘rides’ - as Dean called them - and he saw a train-like vehicle plummeting from a great height, on a track that appeared to be on a loop. A loop that pointed upwards, downwards, and even upside down, it seemed.

Did people enjoy this experience, and if so, why? It was all very puzzling to Castiel.

Dean was waiting in line for something called The Wall of Death. He grinned at Castiel as he handed over his money and climbed into the large circular object along with several other people, which then proceeded to spin around at an alarming speed.

Surely this couldn’t be good for Dean’s body? Castiel made a mental note to check Dean’s physical condition later - surreptitiously, of course - while trying not to think about his best friend’s body too much.

Castiel decided to take a look around, and see if there was anything in this place that wouldn’t cause him to scream. There were stalls; some selling food, which was all incredibly unhealthy, and some that were games, which generally involved hitting a target and winning a prize.

One of these games in particular caught Castiel’s eye; it was a shooting game, where the participant had to hit a row of ducks. Well… not actually ducks, more like metal shapes with ducks painted on them. There were a variety of prizes on offer, but Castiel instantly fell in love with a giant stuffed panda. He knew it was a child’s toy, but he wanted it, though he couldn’t explain why.

He handed the stall owner a handful of the tickets Dean had given him, and picked up the gun that he would shoot the painted ducks with. Even though Castiel had never shot a gun before - real or otherwise - he was certain he would hit enough ducks to win the panda. How hard could it be?

Raising the gun, Castiel looked through the sight and pulled the trigger. There was a crack as the gun fired, but the pellet missed and splashed into the water. Undeterred, Castiel tried again… and again, with no success.

How could he be so good with an angel blade, and so bad with a gun? Castiel frowned, handed more tickets to the vendor, and tried once more. This time, he felt he missed by an even wider margin, and he sighed sadly.

He was about to turn away in defeat when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean… he would recognise that touch anywhere.

"Why don't you let me give it a shot, Cas?" Dean gently took the rifle from his hands and pointed it at the ground for some reason. "See, the trick is that these things are rigged. The sight is always misaligned. So, you gotta compensate for that."

“But… that isn’t very fair,” Castiel replied, feeling belligerent. “How am I supposed to win the panda if it’s rigged?” He shot a scowl at the stall owner for good measure.

Dean also looked at the man and asked, "How many ducks to win the panda?"

“Twenty,” the man answered, with a too smug smile on his face.

Glancing at Castiel, Dean winked and turned back to the game. "Piece of pie." Dean took aim and very methodically fired at the first duck. The ping of the pellet striking it and knocking it down was very satisfying.

He looked over at the owner and added with a shrug, "Beginner's luck."

“Dean, you aren’t a-” Castiel started, before Dean interrupted him.

"Very experienced shooter. Yeah, you got that right. But I'm gonna do my best." Dean took aim and hit another, then another. "You must be my lucky charm, angel."

Castiel could feel his vessel getting warmer, and he was sure his face was on fire. “I, er… thank you.” He had no idea how to deal with this overly friendly behaviour from Dean.

He watched as Dean knocked down duck after duck, noticing that they were drawing a crowd. "Is anyone keeping count? I lost track at ten…" Dean trailed off, then stepped back and looked at Castiel with an arched brow.

“I believe you are up to fifteen now,” Castiel said, noting how triumphant he sounded. That would teach the owner - who was looking none too pleased now - to take people’s money for a game most people couldn’t win.

Dean was looking around at the gathered crowd, and Castiel noticed him zeroing in on a young boy of about seven years. He gestured to Castiel, waving him to stand in front of him. He whispered, "Wanna help me with the rest?"

Oh, my father. Castiel didn’t know what to think. He’d often had inappropriate thoughts of getting close to Dean, but could he stop that from becoming obvious in this situation… in public? Dean was waiting for an answer though, so he said a hesitant, "Yes.”

Dean pulled him to stand in front of him, then moved to his side and held out the gun. "I noticed your stance was a bit off. You need to be a bit looser through the arms and shoulders." Dean moved behind him and eased a foot between his and wiggled it. "Spread your legs a bit so your feet are shoulders' width apart, then step back slightly with your right foot."

“Th-thank you, Dean.” Castiel was torn between wanting more physical contact, and realising that this really wasn’t the place.

He suppressed a shiver as Dean moved closer and positioned his arms. "Take the gun and brace it so the butt sits firmly in the cradle of your shoulder," Dean tapped to the right of his collarbone, "then line the sight up with your target. To compensate for the misaligned sight, you need to aim about a centimeter to your left. Got it?"

Castiel leaned into Dean, allowing himself to feel the man’s comforting warmth. “I’m not sure. Could you show me?” he asked, feeling a sense of daring which usually deserted him when it came to Dean.

He could feel Dean chuckling as he stepped in closer. "Remind me to never play pool with you." Then Dean's hands traced over his, making minute adjustments to the positioning of his fingers. He felt the front of the hunter's body lined up with his, and his breath was ghosting against Castiel's temple. "Line up your shot - remember, a centimeter to the left - then take a steadying breath and gently pull the trigger."

Castiel understood that Dean was making a joke about not playing pool with him, but he hoped they could one day. He very much liked the idea of getting Dean to demonstrate the best way to hold the stick. Especially if he did it like this… so close that Castiel could feel the man’s body meld into his. He tried to do as Dean instructed, but his breath wasn’t steady so much as shaky. He felt Dean take in a breath with him and hold it, as Castiel pulled the trigger and the duck flew backwards.

"There you go, Cas!" Dean patted him on the shoulder. "Good job. Think you can do it again?"

“Yes,” Castiel said, getting into the feel of the weapon in his hand, and his best friend guiding him expertly. Raising the gun and steadying the butt on his shoulder once more, Castiel fired the next shot. The satisfying clang of the pellet hitting its target brought a smile to his face. “This is fun,” he said.

Dean's grin was one of those special ones that could light up an entire room, and Castiel felt torn when he asked, "Think you can get the rest now?"

“I believe so,” he replied, feeling Dean take a step backwards and away from him. There was no time to mourn the loss of Dean being so close to him though, and he readied the gun and took aim again. Without Dean’s guiding hand Castiel’s shot wasn’t quite as direct as the previous two, but he hit the duck nevertheless.

"Just two more." Castiel felt himself tense as Dean rested his hands on his shoulders. "Still too tight, though. Take a breath and let that tension out. This isn't the end of the world," he ended with a snicker.

No it wasn’t, but this felt just as earth-shattering though. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Castiel decided to deal with the way he had reacted to Dean’s touch later. Within a matter of seconds the final two shots had been fired and the ducks obliterated. This had turned out to be a lot of fun, and he had won the panda.

"Damn, Cas, you're a quick study. Definitely not teaching you pool." Dean winked in his direction, then moved up to the booth's operator and kept talking. "I believe that was twenty ducks? So looks like we won a panda," he crowed, and Castiel could just make out him addressing the man under his breath, "and if you want me to keep your secret about that sight, then you'll pass over that tiger as a token of your appreciation."

Castiel felt no sympathy for the man, but he was surprised to hear Dean asking for a cuddly toy too. He hadn’t expected that.

The attendant passed over the tiger without any argument, and Castiel watched as Dean lugged it over to the child he'd been looking at earlier. He knelt down in front of the boy, taking great care to keep the stuffed animal off the trash-strewn ground. "Hey, buddy. That nice man said my friend and I did such an awesome job that he wanted to give me an extra reward. But I can't really fit this guy and the panda in my car. I noticed you have a tiger on your shirt, though, and thought maybe you might like it?"

Castiel felt something swelling in his chest; he didn’t know what it was, but he knew that Dean was the cause. Watching him with that child, being so kind and generous was special, because it was a side of Dean that he kept hidden too often.

The boy accepted the tiger and grinned up at his mother, who was thanking Dean and gazing at him with a look of admiration. It was not at all unusual for women and men to stare at the hunter in such a fashion.

As Dean got off the ground and walked back over to him, Castiel felt an overwhelming urge to do the thing he had wanted to do for longer than he could remember. Before he could change his mind, he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Dean’s.

Not knowing what to expect, he was nervous when Dean pulled away. But the hunter just looked at him with a perplexed look that morphed into that look when Dean saw pie, or a double bacon cheeseburger; and then there was a hand at the base of his skull, fingers tangling in his hair, and those lips Castiel had been dreaming of for so long descended on his in a kiss that was gentle but demanding.

Castiel was well aware that they were kissing in public, in front of a crowd of strangers, but he found it all too easy to get lost in kissing Dean Winchester. He slid his hands around to Dean’s back and pressed their bodies together briefly, before reluctantly breaking off the kiss. They needed to get out of here before they did something that could get them into trouble.

From behind the booth counter, Castiel heard the clearing of a throat. "Think you two need to take your panda and get outta here."

Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel's and whispered, "Sounds like good advice. What do you say we head home, sunshine?"

Castiel had never told Dean how much he loved when he called him sunshine, and he was so full of happiness, all he could do was nod in agreement. He felt his expression change, however, when he took the panda from the stall owner and made sure to glower menacingly at him.

Dean laughed and leaned in to nuzzle his ear. "Maybe I should have given the tiger to you…" He turned to the man and did that finger gun motion he was so fond of. "Have a great night!"

Then Castiel felt a broad, strong hand at the small of his back, guiding him away. "C'mon, Cas. I think we've got better things to be doing now."

Castiel hoped Dean’s ‘better things to be doing’ meant more kissing, and touching Dean’s body intimately was something he would like to try too. He clutched the panda to him tightly, trying not to drop it as they made their way back to Dean’s Baby, but as they drew nearer he wondered how they would get the thing inside. It certainly wouldn’t fit in the trunk; not with all the weapons it was already holding.

When they reached the car, Dean opened the back door and turned to Castiel. "Gimme the bear." Reluctant to let go, but knowing he couldn't very well carry it in the front seat, he surrendered his panda and watched as Dean placed it on the back passenger's seat and fastened the belt around it. "There. All nice and secure."

After closing the door, Dean turned to him and backed him against the car. Castiel was trapped between the cool chrome of the car’s bodywork and the firm muscly body of his favourite human, but he didn’t mind one bit. The intensity of their situation was intoxicating, as they gazed into one another’s eyes, until Dean took hold of Castiel’s tie and pulled him forward so that their lips were barely brushing.

"I think I might be jealous of that bear, Cas." Dean kissed the tip of his nose and continued, "If I'd known you wanted something to cuddle so much…"

Castiel considered for a moment before replying. “I wanted the bear very much, but if I had to choose between you and Inias…” he could hear the way his voice turned into a growl as he leaned forward and whispered into Dean’s ear, “I wouldn’t hesitate to leave him by the side of the road.”

He caressed Dean’s cheek with his own as he manoeuvred himself so that they were face to face once more, then closed his eyes as he felt Dean surge forward to capture his mouth in a real kiss. This one was so much more than the first; more passionate, more sensual. Castiel slipped his hands around to Dean’s back and pulled him closer, as Dean parted his lips with his tongue.

There was a tentative swipe against the roof of his mouth, then Dean's tongue tangled with his, and it was as though years of longing poured over them. He felt Dean's hands lingering on his cheeks, tracing down his neck and clutching at the lapels of his coat.

The hunter pulled away, breathing labored, and his voice was a low groan as he urged, "Need to get you home before I get us both arrested for indecent exposure."

“That would be unfortunate, because then I would have to smite any police officers that get in our way,” Castiel replied drily, with a raised eyebrow.

Dean moved him to the side and opened the passenger side door. "In the car. Now."

Castiel was all for Dean’s sudden need for haste. He wanted to kiss Dean again, and more, and even though this was away from the crowd at the duck shoot, it wasn’t nearly private enough. He did as Dean commanded, and quickly climbed into the passenger seat, smiling at Dean as he appeared around the other side of the car and opened his door.

He slid into the driver's seat, closed the door, and put the key in the ignition. He didn't start it, though, a look of deliberation on his face. "Tell me to turn this car on right now…"

Castiel wasn’t sure what game they were playing here, but he could see the pleading look on Dean’s face. “Turn the car on, Dean,” he growled, shooting the hunter what he hoped was a ‘don’t mess with me’ expression.

He watched as Dean thunked his head back against the headrest and bit his bottom lip. His right hand reached up and turned the key. "Tell me to put my seatbelt on and drive us to the bunker."

Castiel raised his eyebrow again, which earned him a sharp intake of breath from Dean. “I think you should put your seatbelt on and drive to the bunker right now,” he said, as he slid his hand over the seat and lightly brushed his fingertip along the side of Dean’s thigh.

Dean shifted slightly and reached around for his seatbelt, fastening it in place before putting the car in gear and reversing out of the parking space. Castiel noticed his hands were clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel, and his breaths were shallow, heart rate increased. Looking down to where his fingers were now tracing Enochian terms of endearment on Dean's thigh, he noticed the very visible bulge in his hunter's pants.

“You seem to be in some discomfort,” Castiel stated, increasing the pressure of his fingers, well aware of the effect this was having. “Is there anything I can do to help relieve you?”

Dean shot him a quick look that was a mixture of glare, awe, and sheer frustration. "My dick's hard enough to pound nails, Cas. Think you could lend me a hand?" he asked with a tone of sarcasm layered over desperation.

“Do you think that’s wise while you’re driving?” Castiel let his hand travel further towards Dean’s crotch, despite his questioning tone. Seeing Dean coming undone like this was extremely arousing.

Dean gasped out, "I knew you were a toppy bastard the moment I met you in that barn." His breathing shuddered, and Castiel felt the car accelerate as Dean pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. "Jesus, Cas…"

“I… don’t understand. Toppy?” Castiel had a strong suspicion that this was something sexual, but the exact connotation wasn’t clear.

Dean's groan was something he would endeavor to draw from him more frequently. "How are you still so innocent? And you have no idea how sexy it is… So dominant and naive at the same time. Like that time you pushed me against that alley wall? Just… do you have any idea how turned on I was?"

“Ohh, really? That’s very interesting information. I had no idea you like to be dominated…” Castiel purposefully placed emphasis on that last word. “Maybe I should tell you to pull over on the next available side road and get into the backseat? How would you respond to that?” His hand had now reached the bulge in Dean’s jeans, but he barely grazed it over the cloth.

A small whimper escaped Dean's lips, and he whispered, "Please…"

Castiel gave Dean a smile, that he hoped conveyed how pleased he was with this turn of events, and said, “It would make me very happy if you would find the nearest side road, pull over, and get immediately into the backseat.”

Dean inhaled deeply and used his turn signal to indicate he was changing lanes. After a few minutes, he veered off at a tree-lined drive and pulled into an area concealed from the main road. Parked, his seatbelt unfastened, Dean quickly opened his door and moved to get in the back seat.

“Very good,” Castiel praised, following suit to join Dean in the back. Unfortunately, there was a huge panda where he wanted to get in. He hadn’t meant what he said about leaving him by the side of the road, although he needed to remove this obstacle quickly before Dean changed his mind.

He unfastened the bear’s seatbelt and lifted it to push it over the back of the front seat. It was less pliable than he had hoped however, and it got stuck halfway, requiring help from Dean to get it out of the way completely.

"Not for nothin', Cas, but the last stuffed animal that got in my way got shot." Dean pushed at Inias's back until he popped over the seat, grumbling something about getting hot and sweaty.

“I’m glad you didn’t shoot Inias. It isn’t his fault he was in the way,” Castiel said, looking at the panda, which was now lying on its front in the front seat. He had much more important matters to attend to though, and he turned his attention back to Dean. “Now where were we?” he breathed, gazing into those green eyes he adored so much.

"We were in the front seat," Dean responded, full of snark.

“There was a time when your sense of humour would have thrown me. But not anymore. It’s a part of you to admire, just like your freckles.” Castiel had had enough of waiting and he grabbed a handful of Dean’s shirt and yanked him forward into a bruising kiss.

He could only describe Dean's reaction as melting. He went pliant under Castiel's hands, body warm and malleable. "Cas," he whined.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned in response. “I… want to feel you.” He began feverishly opening Dean’s shirt buttons, before losing patience and pushing the garment up with his hands, trying to get it over his head.

"Cas, let me get this." Dean quickly finished unbuttoning the shirt and shrugged out of it, then pulled off his t-shirt.

Castiel took a moment to admire the beauty of Dean’s form, before touching a hand to Dean’s chest and running it over the freckled skin. Dean trembled under his touch, and made a tiny sound that Castiel thought sounded almost like a cat. The knowledge that he was the cause of this reaction in Dean - the strongest human he had ever known - was intoxicating.

“Lay down,” he said, voice husky from want.

Dean did as he was told and watched wide-eyed as Castiel began removing his own clothes; trench coat, blazer, shirt and tie, all of which were thrown on top of the poor unfortunate panda. At least he won’t be able to see what we’re doing, Castiel thought, wondering why he was suddenly thinking of the stuffed toy as a sentient being.

Dean’s fingers were brushing Castiel’s bare chest now, and he suddenly understood why Dean had reacted the way he did. The feeling of his lover touching his skin was like nothing he could describe, but he knew he didn’t want it to stop.

Castiel slid over Dean and kissed him again, feeling the rise and fall of Dean’s chest beneath his, before he went on an exploration with his mouth. He kissed Dean’s jaw, neck, collar bone, nipple… this drew a hiss from Dean as he arched his back off the seat.

"Oh, Cas," Dean moaned as he buried his fingers in Castiel's hair and trailed his other hand down his back, fingernails scraping along his shoulder blades. "More... please."

He wrapped his lips around the little bud and flicked it with his tongue. He delighted in the noises Dean made at this, and repeated the action before moving to the other nipple.

Dean rolled his hips up against Castiel's front, and he could feel the length of his erection brushing against his abdomen. Growling, he sank his teeth into the meat of Dean's pectoral, marking him in a way he'd only dreamed of before.

The indecent moan that Dean let out caused an intense reaction in Castiel, and he ground his own erection against Dean’s. They were both breathing heavily as Castiel leaned back up and moved his hands to open the fastenings on his pants, hoping that Dean would follow suit and undress with him.

As Dean started unbuttoning his jeans, he said, "Cas, shoes. I can't get to my boots."

Castiel briefly considered making Dean’s boots - and maybe everything else he was wearing too - disappear with a snap of his fingers, but he had a feeling that removing them slowly would be a more pleasurable experience. Reaching down, he started pulling at the laces and loosening them enough to slip first one boot then the other from Dean’s feet, all the while taking every opportunity to caress his calves. The socks came off next, and they were piled on top of Castiel’s clothes, on top of Inias.

Lifting his hips, Dean pushed his jeans down as much as he could, given Castiel's position. His underwear were tented, and Castiel reached out to slowly pull the waistband down.

He couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of Dean’s member as it sprung free. It was… how did Dean describe it? Hard enough to screw nails? Castiel wrapped his fingers around the length and began to stroke, watching Dean’s face to gauge his reaction.

Dean's breath hitched, head fell back against the seat, and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. "Jesus, Cas, feel free to never stop doing that."

“I think that would become uncomfortable after a while,” Castiel smiled, knowing full well how it made Dean feel when he took everything so literally. “You wouldn’t want this pretty appendage to fall off now, would you?” He sped up his movements as he spoke, noting how Dean’s cock was becoming more slippery as he became more aroused. Deciding that he needed even more lubrication, however, Castiel stopped to lick his palm before resuming his motions.

Dean choked out, "If it hasn't happened by now, I think we're-" He paused as Castiel neared the head of his penis.

“You are very fond of pleasuring yourself,” Castiel stated, never once pausing in his ministrations. “My father said he had never seen so much porn.” He ran his thumb over the head, and Dean gripped the seat so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Feels so good, Cas. Also, no talking about parents during sex. It's a rule. If I wasn't so turned on, you would have killed my boner." Dean looked down and asked, "Mind if I try something?"

“I would very much like for you to try something.” Castiel was excited to know what Dean had in mind.

Dean let go of the seat and reached up to draw Castiel into another kiss. It was slow and easy, as Dean trailed his hands down his back to tease at the edge of his pants. "Off, please," he whispered against Castiel's lips.

Castiel had to let go of Dean’s penis to open his pants, and the hunter let out a sigh as he released his hold. He slipped them and his underwear down until he got them low enough to kick off onto the floor of the car. Once he had removed his shoes and socks he got the rest of his clothing out of the way, leaving him completely naked.

He could feel Dean's eyes tracking every inch of revealed skin. The hunter pulled him down so that they were finally naked flesh to naked flesh. "Later I want to worship every inch of you, Cas, but right now…" Dean worked his hand between their bodies and grasped Castiel's member that was already leaking fluid from its tip. He groaned as Dean tightened his grip, spreading the ejaculate and causing some delicious friction.

"Wish I had some lube for this…"

“Would it-” Castiel let out a loud groan, as Dean twisted his wrist a little, in a way that made him see stars. “Ohhhhhh…”

The look on Dean's face was sheer sin. "Like that, angel?"

“Y-yes. Fuck,” Castiel panted, finding it difficult all of a sudden to form a coherent sentence.

Dean surged up and growled in his ear, "Then you're going to love this." Castiel felt his hunter's hand loosen just enough to brush his own erection against the flesh he was already holding. He encircled both as much as he could in his fist, then slowly resumed stroking.

Castiel came to the conclusion that the sensation of Dean’s hand, plus the friction of their erections rubbing together must actually be mind blowing. He could focus on nothing but the feeling that was building inside him, and the movement of Dean’s hand. He was only vaguely aware of the noises he was making, and the increasing volume of said noises.

"Fuck, Cas, you're so goddamn sexy. Can't wait to feel you come all over me. Wanna know how you sound when you fall apart. Need to see you, please? Let me see those gorgeous fucking eyes while you spill across my hand? Please, baby?"

Castiel lifted his head and stared deeply into Dean’s eyes, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer. Everything about being with Dean in such an intimate way was beyond his wildest imaginings. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered. “Wanted to touch you, to k…” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, and he gasped out as his orgasm rushed through him, and he spilled his seed over Dean’s hand.

Dean held his gaze, pupils blown as he watched Castiel's release. His strokes sped up, slicking the channel of his hand with Castiel's come as he chased his own orgasm. The other cupped Castiel's cheek. "You're so beautiful, angel. And you feel so good. Ahhh, please touch me. Please, Cas!"

Castiel lifted one of his hands to Dean’s chest, where he caressed the skin tenderly for a moment before turning his attention to Dean’s nipple. He began rubbing his thumb over it, making him squirm underneath him. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, Dean Winchester. Come for me,” he purred.

And Dean did. Castiel watched as his lover fell apart under their combined ministrations, his irises darkening to a vivid forest green. The noises he was making cut off as his body shook one final time; then Dean pulled Castiel down on top of him and hugged him tightly, laughing softly. "You blew the windows out of my car. Better fix that so we can get home for round two."

Castiel lifted his head and saw that Dean was telling the truth; the intensity of their lovemaking had obviously created a power surge strong enough to destroy the windows. It wasn't just his mind that had been blown.

"I am so sorry," he said apologetically, using his grace to clean them up. “My intention was not to damage your car.”

Dean brushed his thumb between Castiel's eyebrows, smoothing the frown he hadn't even realized was building there. "As long as you mojo her back, I think Baby will forgive you."

“That’s a relief,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t want her to hold it against me.” He pulled his clothes back on as Dean did the same, issuing an apology to Inias as he retrieved the items, before climbing out of the car and placing his hand on the hood. The splintered glass reformed, and in a matter of seconds all of the windows were whole again.

As he glanced at Dean, he noticed a look of lust on his face. "Holy shit, that was hot. Get in the car and let's get to the bunker."

Castiel rolled his eyes at the panda, which was in his way once more. “I’m sorry, Inias,” he said as he removed the stuffed toy from the front seat and situated him in the back again. “I promise not to cover you with my clothing again.”

The indulgent smirk on Dean's face as Castiel sat in the front seat and buckled his seatbelt made him blush. Then he lifted his "dom brow", as he'd heard it referred to, and palmed Dean's thigh. "Shouldn't you be driving?"

Dean gave Castiel a quick salute, before turning the key in the ignition and setting off for home. Castiel felt a warmth spread through him, at the thought of the bunker being home… and all of the activities Dean and he might indulge in, now that the nature of their relationship had changed.

Sam would be understanding, surely, and Inias wouldn’t get in their way in Dean’s bedroom.

Their bedroom.

*****

It was a Thursday night, and they were in their recently soundproofed bedroom. Sam had finally confessed that the headphones he had purchased were not working as well as advertised, and in an effort to make everyone more comfortable, Castiel had warded the walls with every silencing sigil he could find.

Dean had Castiel bent over the end of his bed and was thrusting into him vigorously. Castiel was moaning, absolutely loving the feel of Dean inside him.

"C'mon, Cas. Come for me, sunshine."

Castiel wanted to. He really did. He desperately needed release, but… "Dean, Balthazar is watching."

He let out a particularly loud cry as Dean slammed into his prostate, then leaned over him and bit his earlobe. "It's just a stuffed lion, babe. He can't actually see us."

Logically, Castiel knew that. However, he had named all of the toys Dean brought him after his fallen brethren, not considering the idea that they might one day be audience to activities he'd rather they not see.

"Please, Dean. Can we stop just long enough to turn him around?" Castiel pleaded.

The hunter whispered in his ear, "Balthazar knew. He knew you were in love with me. I highly doubt he would be surprised to find us fucking like bunnies."

"But Dean…" he started to argue, until Dean reached around and started stroking his dick in time to his thrusts. "Ooohhhhh, unnghh, Dean! Fuck yes! Right there! Oh fuck, you're so deep, pleeeease!"

"I love how filthy your mouth gets when I'm inside you, angel. And don't think I don't know you have an exhibitionist streak. You made me scream your name in that Burger King bathroom last week, then came when you heard that guy clear his throat in the next stall."

Teasing the slit of Castiel's cock, Dean continued, "C'mon, Cas, I know you're close, baby. You're so fucking tight around me." There was a groan in his ear as Castiel intentionally clenched the muscles surrounding Dean's erection. His hunter pulled out and slammed back in harder and faster, creating a friction against Castiel's prostate that was making him forget whatever it was he had been objecting to.

Dean growled low, "Give it to me, love," and Castiel came across the bedspread, body shaking and mind deliriously blank of everything but Dean's term of endearment.

Castiel came back down as Dean spilled inside him, teeth sunk into his shoulder. He fell to the mattress, avoiding the pool of his ejaculate and said, "That was a dirty trick. You know I can't resist when you call me 'love'."

Dean chuckled and nuzzled the back of his neck. "You like it dirty. Don't deny it."

Castiel smiled and pulled as much of Dean around him as he could. As much as he loved the stuffed gifts Dean brought him, "just because", the hunter would always be his favorite teddy bear.

"I love you, Dean Winchester."

"I know." He felt Dean's lips curl against his shoulder, then the gentlest of kisses.

"I love you, too, Cas.”

This fic is for you @anyreiart, on your birthday, from punk-is-notdead and @eyesofatragedy67. Much love to you. Also tagging @mugglerock, because we love you too.

#destiel fanfic #destiel #fanfic #author: Eyes_of_a_Tragedy #author: tfw_cas

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