#post 15x19

[trenchcoatimpala]

The Elephant In The Room

Dean doesn't talk about the elephant in the room (Cas' confession) until he does.

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Nothing had changed, well, okay, everything had changed. Eileen had moved into the bunker and she and Sam were disgustingly in love, Jack came around to visit when he was feeling so inclined and it was nice to see the kid, to try to make up for everything he did to him, and Cas… well, Cas was alive. It was one of the first things Jack did as the new God, and Cas’ powers were fully restored, possibly with more juice than before, which Jack said he’d done by accident. 

“I may have made him a tier higher than an archangel,” Jack had said sheepishly. 

But Dean wasn’t one to complain about having an extra juiced-up angel on their side, especially because it was Cas, and Cas was alive, and Dean…Dean was totally doing just fine with the elephant in the room, thank you very much. 

His method of dealing with said elephant was to simply not talk about it because that’s what you did with elephants in the room, you ignored them. Cas seemed fine with this decision, but Dean would catch him looking at him curiously and… lovingly, every now and then. It should make him uncomfortable, and maybe it did a little bit, because he would find himself fucking blushing like a damn school girl on her first date whenever Cas offered him a warm smile. But mostly it felt nice, and he liked it, and that was something that Dean was struggling to figure out how to deal with. 

How do you even bring up a deathbed love confession with your best friend when said best friend isn’t even dead anymore? He knew Cas told him all those things because he was dying and probably thought he would never see Dean again and would never have to deal with Dean’s emotionally stunted response, but here they were, and Dean was more emotionally stunted than ever before. 

The thing was, he didn’t know how to tell Cas his feelings, and it was harder to try and tell him anything when Cas clearly didn’t expect a reciprocation. If Cas was content to spend his days loving Dean quietly in the corner then Dean was inclined to let him. The problem was that he didn’t want Cas to be in the corner in the first place. He wanted Cas with him. He wanted to cling to him and never let him go, and he had already sort of been doing just that since Cas got back. 

It was a little humiliating how his heart rate would start ratcheting up in panic whenever he couldn’t actually see Cas. The other day, Sam had asked Cas for help in the library and he’d left the kitchen where Dean had been doing the dishes, and Dean couldn’t finish the fucking dishes because he’d dropped what he was doing and followed Cas and Sam into the library, as if his feet had moved of their own accord. He’d sat in one of the armchairs in the corner, watching impatiently as Sam and Cas researched something and Cas pointed out that Sam had mistranslated the title of one of the books. It’d been boring, and Dean had wanted to leave, but he couldn’t. He’d been rooted to the spot until Cas had finished helping Sam, and then Dean had said he would make them some coffee and Cas had dutifully followed Dean back to the kitchen, where he’d put on the coffee to percolate, and finally finished the damn dishes under Cas’ thoughtful gaze. 

Dean followed Cas everywhere he went, like they were tethered together by an invisible string. Cas sat on the couch in Dean’s room when he slept, taking up his watchful post as usual, and Dean… wasn’t bothered by it, wasn’t that something? It was comforting knowing that Cas was there with him, but the empty space in his bed next to him was always prominent, sticking out like a sore thumb whenever Dean’s arms ghosted over the sheets that did not hold another warm body. 

Cas had only been back for a few days and the elephant was already enormous, taking up far too much space and honestly driving Dean a little insane, because Cas also wasn’t bringing anything up. To be fair, Dean knew the ball was in his court, but Cas could at least nudge it towards him again. 

He tossed and turned in his too-empty bed, kicking out with his feet and knocking his blanket to the floor, and dammit now he was cold. He shifted onto his back, opening his eyes to stare at the dark ceiling. Cas’ presence in the room was still steady and he could tell Cas was looking at him, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He broke. 

“Come here,” he said into the dark room.

There was a shuffling noise and then Cas was across the room and Dean was sitting up in bed, reaching out to turn on the lights. Cas was standing beside his bed, head tilted curiously. “Is something wrong?” 

“No- yes, I mean no, but-” Dean swiped a hand down his face and groaned. He took a different direction. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” Cas answered dutifully. 

Here goes nothing. “Do you still love me?” He knew the answer but he had to be sure. 

Cas nodded carefully. “Yes, Dean.” 

“Okay,” he said, and then, “good.” 

“Good?” Cas asked, and Dean could almost feel the hope radiating from Cas’ body. 

“Yeah, good,” Dean said, gaining some confidence. “I mean, I don’t understand it, how you can… why I’m… well, you know, ‘it’ for you or whatever.” 

“Dean, I told you why.”

“Yeah, right before you died, which was a dick move by the way.” 

Cas slouched a little where he stood. “I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could think of to save you.” 

“And you never thought that me living without you is worse than dying with you?” Dean couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice, because they were treading the waters of emotional vulnerability and Dean’s mind wanted to deflect and his body itched to escape out the door, but he forced himself to sit still, going entirely against his instincts. 

“I- no,” Cas said after a moment. “I never- Dean you’ve never given me a reason to think that.” 

Dean stood up, facing Cas, towering over him just a little, which was ironic considering Cas was an angel. “I’m not good at giving people reasons to stay!” he snapped, frustrated. “I don’t know how to tell people I want them around because I think everyone is better off not being around me. And you wouldn’t know what you dying does to me ‘cause you’re not around to see it!” Cas stared at him, slightly slack jawed, and Dean took in a breath, and lowered his voice. “I never want you gone, Cas. Never. And I need you to get that because I can’t have you disappearing on me again.” Dean stepped closer to Cas, their faces close; sharing breath. 

“I’ve only ever wanted to stay,” Cas said, and there were tears in his eyes.

“Then stay,” Dean murmured over the thickness of emotion in his throat. “Right here, with me.” And then Dean did the only thing there was left to do, he pulled Cas into a kiss by the lapels of his trench coat, like he’d imagined doing over a hundred times since he met him, but that he’d never let himself think about for too long because it was impossible, and Cas could never love him like that, but here he was doing just that, and Cas was kissing him back with fervor. Dean’s knees hit the back of the bed as Cas backed him into it and then he was falling and an angel was crawling on top of him. 

Cas made quick work of getting Dean naked, it wasn’t like it was hard, all he was wearing was boxers and a t-shirt, but then when Dean reached up to push that goddamn coat off Cas’ shoulders, the angel let out a growl, pinning Dean’s hands above his head. “In a minute,” he promised, and his voice sounded wrecked. “I just- I need a moment, you’re so,” Cas’ breath pushed out of his throat in a sigh as he looked Dean over with hungry blue eyes, “you’re stunning, Dean.” 

Dean blushed. “I’m nothin’ special,” he grumbled, and he suddenly couldn’t look at Cas because it was kind of a lot. 

But Cas’ hand was on his chin and he turned his head to lock their eyes together. “You are remarkable, Dean Winchester. I have never seen anything more beautiful in this universe than you.” 

Dean flushed what was probably a very deep red. “Jesus, Cas, you can’t say shit like that.”

“And why not?”

“Because,” Dean huffed. “Just- because.” It was a valid argument in Dean’s head but Cas was having none of it. 

“You are beautiful, whether you accept it or not it is the truth.”

“‘Kay, well, I don’t accept it,” he said petulantly. 

“You will someday,” Cas replied, and it sounded like a promise, not just that, a guarantee. 

“Not likely, I-”

But whatever he was about to say was lost to him because Cas’ hand was on his dick and it felt so damn good. Cas let out a gasp that sounded like wonder and Dean’s eyes were rolling back in his head as Cas began to explore his body, running his fingers along Dean’s chest, kissing at his thighs and stomach, letting his fingers slip through Dean’s hair. He couldn’t be anything but pliant under Cas’ steady hands as the angel learned what made Dean tick. 

Cas sucked at the skin between his ear and collarbone and Dean moaned, low and loud, and fuck. He clutched at Cas’ shoulders and when his hands met the fabric of the trench coat he pushed at it. “It’s been a minute,” Dean said, shoving at the thing again until Cas was forced to let up from Dean’s neck and banish the coat to the ground. 

Dean got to work on his shirt next, and goddammit why were so there many buttons? Cas, impatient as ever, simply reached up and ripped the shirt clean off his body, sending the offending buttons scattering across the room, and then he did the same for his pants and the boxers he wore underneath, and okay that was hot. Dean gulped at the sight of Cas, fully naked above him, his cock raised in clear want. He licked his lips, his hands skating over Cas’ thick thighs. 

“You’re built like a damn brick house,” he said when there wasn’t even a single inch of give where Dean pressed his fingertips into his skin. 

Cas grunted, returning his mouth to its post at Dean’s neck. “I have a lot of free time when you’re sleeping,” he said, by way of explanation. 

Dean’s hand moved to Cas’ dick and the angel bit down on Dean’s neck in surprise. Dean chuckled. “Well hello there, cowboy.” 

Dean pumped him a few times but he didn’t get far before Cas was letting out a low growl, sitting up, and hoisting Dean’s legs over his shoulders. Dean yelled out, caught off-guard but then Cas’ mouth was at his hole and all coherent thought left the building. Cas took his time, his tongue moving around his premium and then letting it dip inside, slowly opening him up. 

He barely registered Cas’ hand smacking onto the nightstand beside them and then rustling through the drawer until he let out a triumphant hum against Dean’s ass, because he was too busy trying to hold onto the bed, to Cas, to anything. A second later, a cap popped on what Dean now knew was lube, and then Cas’ mouth was gone and a finger was pushing into him. 

“Holy-” Dean gasped out. 

Cas pressed kisses against Dean’s inner thighs and then added more fingers gradually until Dean was positively bursting, and definitely babbling Cas’ name and a multitude of profanity. When Cas looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes, mouth slick with spit, and eyes looking like a rabid animal, Dean was pretty sure he was very close to coming already, and as if on cue his dick spilled out a little pre-come. Cas eyed it with desire and then his mouth was enveloping the tip of Dean’s cock and his fingers were still in his ass and he crooked them just so to hit his-

“Oh fuck, Cas!” Dean jerked under him and the tip of his dick hit the roof of Cas’ mouth but the angel only hummed and sucked him down further. “You ke- keep this up and I’ll c-come before you can fuck me,” he warned. 

Cas popped off him and then pulled his fingers free and Dean sank into the bed, panting as he tried to will his dick not to give out on him yet. Cas barely gave him a moment of reprieve though, because he sat up and began to stroke his own cock, slicking it up with lube before he tugged Dean impossibly closer and lined himself up. 

When Cas pushed just the tip in, Dean thought he might pass out, and when Cas slid in fully, he was pretty sure he did pass out for a second. He was feeling too much all at once but the last thing he wanted was for Cas to stop. His body was singing, his bones vibrating together in what had to be fucking music because there was a hallow hum coming from his entire being, well – he was pretty sure it was coming from him, but maybe it was coming from Cas- anyway, it didn’t matter. His eyes were squeezed shut so tightly he was seeing shapes behind his eyelids and his mouth was open to let out several gasps in quick succession. 

Cas was ruthless. Dean shouldn’t be surprised, he was an Angel of the Lord for fuck’s sake, and yet there was a power rushing through him that Dean didn’t need to be able to see to feel. It was a kind of power Dean had watched Cas wield many times before, when he lifted things too heavy for one singular human to lift, when he threw bad guys around warehouse’s, and pinned Dean against walls. It was angelic and there were no words to describe it because how do you even begin to lay out what a real angel is capable of?

Dean’s read the Bible, albeit not cover to cover but enough of it. There were enough times when he was bored in a motel room waiting for his Dad to come back from a hunt, when Sam was passed out on the bed next to him and he was tired of watching the same three shows air on repeat on the TV, that he’d picked up the complimentary copy of King James’ Bible (because there was always a Bible in these places, as if that would stop the hookers and criminals that shacked up in the joint from being hookers and criminals) and leafed through it. As Dean had learned first hand, the Bible was wrong about a lot of things (God actually caring about humanity being the biggest one that comes to mind) but it got a few things right too, namely the fact that Dean could sympathize with those damn shepherds who saw Angels of the Lord and were terrified. Angels were fucking scary, and Cas right now… Dean had never been more frightened and, as his dick helpfully reminded him, more turned on, in his life. 

The air was thick with pressure and Dean almost felt like he couldn’t breathe from the force that his heart was thudding against his chest with. His lungs felt like they were a sponge being methodically wrung out time after time after time, and he was pretty sure if Cas kept going on the way he was that he would burst. He couldn’t speak, he could barely think, but he was capable of one thing: prayer. 

“Cas!” He thought the angel’s name as fiercely as he could and the body above him jerked suddenly. White light flooded under Dean’s eyelids, he noted that it was also tinged blue and he vaguely realized it was Cas’ grace. 

“Dean,” Cas’ voice rumbled in the air, in Dean’s eardrums, in his ribcage, through his teeth, ringing in his head as if Cas hadn’t actually spoken out loud, and he felt his back arch off the bed as Cas hit that sensitive bulb inside him with ruthless precision. 

Dean shifted his hips so that another wave of pleasure washed over him, but Cas’ firm hands on his hips stopped any further movement. He could feel desperation in the way Cas enveloped him, in the harsh thrust of his hips, but Dean could also feel him holding back. This wasn’t all of what Cas was capable of doing, it was so much, and Dean felt like he was flying and falling and drowning all at once, but he knew there was more, he could have everything, and Cas wasn’t giving it to him. 

He found his voice, it came out of him in a rasp as if his vocal chords were made of gravel and his voice was the tire of a car crunching against it, “Cas, please.” He cracked open his eyes with effort and the sight that greeted him instantly stole his breath from him. Cas was fucking gorgeous. His eyes were glowing bright blue, his wings - fuck, his wings - were out behind him, so large they took up the whole room, the tips of feathers crushed into the ceiling, and they weren’t just shadows anymore, they were real, Dean could- he reached out a hesitant hand and his fingertips brushed lightly over a feather. 

Cas’ wing twitched, fluttering and curling close to his back in surprise, the grace in his eyes fading as he blinked. Dean swallowed hard, afraid he’d crossed a line and he opened his mouth to apologize, to say something that would probably have Dean shoving Cas away and retreating with his tail between his legs, but Cas beat him to it.

 “Don’t you dare.” His voice crackled like lightning and Dean shrank against the pillows. Don’t touch Cas there, got it. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered.

Cas’ expression was stony and Dean worried for one fleeting moment that he was about to be smited, but Cas shook his head, his hand coming to press down lightly on Dean’s chest.  “No, Dean. Don’t you dare, think about leaving this room or apologizing, I will not have you thinking you aren’t allowed to-” Cas broke off, his eyes flickered with grace again before he seemed to get himself under control, well, mentally maybe, but his voice came out in a husk, dark and rumbling like a stormcloud, “-to touch me.”

Dean didn’t have the brain power to realize that he’d probably prayed his thoughts to Cas, or the guy had been in his head which he also couldn’t bring himself to care about if that was the case. His heart was probably two seconds from beating out of his chest with all this feeling he’d been, well… feeling these past few days, so Cas’ words didn’t really register. “I-what?”

Cas leaned in close, and his still achingly hard cock shifted inside Dean, reminding him very quickly that Cas was very much into this. Cas’ lips were so close to Dean’s own and he couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking down to look at them and then back up at Cas’ face. “You can touch me,” Cas said, blue eyes hooded and shining with arousal, “anywhere you want.” 

“Oh,” Dean replied, somewhat blankly because he didn’t cross a line and Cas wasn’t angry and there was too much damn love and desire in Cas’ eyes right now that Dean didn’t really know what else to say. He tried to speak anyway, “I just- I thought, well, I didn’t know if you- I mean, your wings-” and he failed miserably. Cas was smiling at him and Dean didn’t understand why. “What?” he grunted, suddenly feeling like he was under a spotlight that was steadily burning a hole through his chest. He wasn’t used to this, to any of it, to being loved like he was worth it and being held in arms that felt safe, not having to worry about something bad coming through the doors at any given moment. It was overwhelming.

“Dean, no one has ever-” Cas huffed out a frustrated sigh, his wings fluttered behind him, flicking in what could only be a nervous twitch and knocking an empty beer bottle off Dean’s side table. “I have never been touched there before,” he said, and his cheeks were pink in the low glow of the bunker's lights. Dean had never really seen him blush before, he was always stoic and carefully impassive, but here, in Dean’s room where it was just the two of them, he was privy to the angel losing control. 

“Oh,” Dean said again, this time in fascination. “You mean… no one?”

“No one,” Cas confirmed. “Not even myself, and these wings… they are new. I mean, they are the same as my old ones, repaired, but it’s been so long since I could feel anything behind me other than a dull pain, and-” 

“You were in pain?” Dean instantly felt concern and anger flood through him. “This whole time? And you didn’t tell me?” 

Cas was looking at him like he’d just discovered the cutest kitten on the side of the road. Dean hated it and was warmed by it at the same time. “You are kind for worrying about me, Dean, but I was fine. It was manageable; I could ignore it most of the time.” Dean pouted at him and was about to argue more when Cas interrupted him before he could begin, “Now, as I was saying,” and Cas sent his hips forward reminding Dean that he still had an angel’s dick up his ass, “you took me by surprise, is all. But it was nice, and I- you can do it again.” 

Dean nodded through the pleasure that was shooting through him at Cas’ movement. “O-okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am certain that there is nothing I have ever been more sure about in all the eons of my life,” Cas replied roughly through a grunt as he burst colors behind Dean’s eyes with his next thrust. 

Dean’s hands came up to Cas’ back, fingers splaying over the base of his wings; Cas’ body twitched at the sensation and Dean watched his eyes roll back in his head, and then white light poured from his chest in a wave and burst a light in the room, plunging them into semi-darkness (the other light was still alive and well). Dean smirked at that and, encouraged, he raked his fingernails through the sparse feathers at his back. Cas’ dick actually pulsed inside him and the angel’s breath hitched in his throat, his head slumping to Dean’s shoulder with a shudder. 

“You okay?” Dean checked, although his body was buzzing with so much pleasure that he was barely able to get the syllables out in the right order to actually form words, so it sounded more like a jumble of letters. 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas gasped out, somehow understanding him. “Keep going.” 

Dean did. He gently pushed his fingers into feathers and moved upward from Cas’ back to his shoulders, where he felt up along the bones of his wings, the feathers there were less soft, but Dean could tell they were strong, probably prepared to repel bullets and knock away demons with a single flick. The whole time he marveled at the being in front of him. Cas was extraordinary. 

“Beautiful,” he found himself whispering, and Cas whined against him. 

He eventually couldn’t reach past a certain point, Cas’ wingspan was far too long for him to feel the whole thing, but Dean vowed to one day. Cas was a trembling mess above him, he’d stopped his movements, too focused on what Dean’s hands were doing no doubt, and he was now panting against Dean’s neck. The sound was electrifying and Dean’s own neglected dick was aching between Cas’ chest and his stomach. He moved just slightly, getting that friction he desperately craved, and sliding Cas in deeper at the same time. Cas was instantly alert, his body coiling and a growl coming out of his throat in the shape of Dean’s name. 

Cas pushed himself up, and Dean yelped when Cas hiked his legs up, driving into him with force. His calves brushed feathers, and Cas trembled again, his wings curling above them, almost like they were trying to form a canopy, and Dean briefly wondered what it would be like to have Cas like this where he could actually spread his wings. Cas settled into a steady pace above him, one hand was gripping onto Dean’s shoulder, the very shoulder that held a faded handprint, Cas’ hand fit there like a long lost glove, and the other hand was holding onto the headboard. Dean gave up on trying to hold onto Cas, allowing the angel to chase his own pleasure, because, let’s be real, Cas’ pleasure was Dean’s pleasure and he was totally okay with just being along for the ride. 

When Cas’ hand moved to his dick and pumped him in tandem with his thrusts, Dean was certain he was about to die. This was how it was going to end because there was no way he wasn’t going to explode from the sensation of it all. It was once again too much and not enough and Cas was tense where he struggled to control himself.

“Cas,” Dean gasped, barely finding enough air to speak. Cas was already looking at him, blue eyes alight with grace and love and all the other mushy crap you see in people’s eyes in movies and shit. Dean gulped, crying out when Cas nailed his prostate again. “You-” he shuddered as wave after wave of intense pleasure flowed through him. It took more effort than he’d care to admit to bring his hands up to Cas’ shoulders and push. 

Cas immediately stopped, tilting his head and looking Dean over as if he’d hurt him. “Dean? What is it?”

Dean tried to catch his breath but that quickly proved it was going to take too long, so he panted, “You don’t have to- Cas, you’re only- fuck.” Dean groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them again, finally managing to sound articulate he said, “You can let go.” 

“Let go?” Cas repeated. “Of… you?” 

And damn did he look disgruntled, and his hair was literally fucked six ways from Sunday, and there was a frown forming on his face and sadness was beginning to fill his eyes along with resignation, and Dean could not let whatever Cas was thinking progress; he was quickly reaching for him again. “No, Cas, no,” he reassured him. “Let go of whatever is holding you back. If you think you’re going to hurt me you won’t, you couldn’t, I’m not a porcelain doll, you know.” 

“I know that, Dean,” Cas said, but he still sounded wary. “I don’t think I would break you, and even if I did I could heal you.” 

“Then what is it?” 

Cas looked at him, and Dean could see a little fear creeping into his expression. “I’m scared of what my powers will do if I truly give in.” 

“What? Like you could blow up the bunker?” 

“Or the entire United States,” Cas supplied gravely. 

“Oh shit,” Dean huffed a laugh. “Well, I’m game to find out what’ll happen if you are.” 

“Dean!” C as chastised, but he was grinning despite himself. 

“What? Who’s to say you giving in wouldn’t have positive effects?” 

“I burst a lightbulb in here already,” Cas pointed out. 

Dean wasn’t in the mood to argue about this, he was already painfully close to an orgasm and he needed relief and he needed Cas and he needed them not to keep fucking talking while Cas was balls deep in him. “Okay so, just, try not to cause a nationwide power outage but- please, Cas, I- I want all of you.” And then he pulled Cas into a kiss before he could keep arguing and Dean took matters into his own hands and fucked himself on Cas’ dick until eventually Cas took back the reigns. 

From there on, Dean could only lie back and take it. Cas’ hand had returned to his dick and Dean threw his head back and moaned. It was an embarrassing sound, really, but Dean was not in a place to care. Cas was grunting above him and then something shifted in the air. There was a bright light and a warmth whispered over his skin and then settled in his head like it belonged there. He felt like he was standing outside during a summer evening, the breeze around him warm but cooler than the sun, the lap of water against a shoreline shushed in his ears and he could smell the distinct scent of a lake. He recognized this feeling, it was close to what he felt when Cas healed him: warm and calm and safe. He knew on a subconscious level that this was Cas’ grace in his head, his very essence wrapping around him, because consciously, he could still feel the way Cas was pushing in and out of him, pumping his cock in his fist, thumbing over his slit, murmuring into his skin in something that had to be Enochian. 

A low whine split the air; the other lightbulb burst into pieces. “Dean.” Cas’ voice sounded in his head, but it wasn’t the deep voice he was used to hearing come from the angel, from the mouth that had once belonged to Jimmy Novak, no this was different. It boomed and echoed inside Dean’s skull, like he wasn’t actually hearing someone speak more like listening to… thoughts. Cas’ voice didn’t have sound to it, not a human sound anyway, Dean wasn’t even sure his ears were supposed to be capable of hearing (was he even hearing?) the not-sound. “Dean, I need-” 

“Anything,” Dean thought before Cas could even finish his thought. He wanted to give Cas whatever he wanted, he didn’t care if Cas wanted to go fuck on the moon, Dean would let him take him anywhere, do anything to him, love him however he wanted because he couldn’t stop the feeling rising within him that told him to give himself over fully to the angel before him. 

“Dean,” Cas whimpered, “I need- I need to be with you, I need to- I need to be you.” 

Dean’s whole body thrummed with equal need. His dick in Cas’ hand pulsed, Cas’ own dick felt like it was splitting Dean in two with how much it had filled out, and he just wanted- he needed- he had to- “Yes.” Cas’ grace reached for him and Dean’s soul reached back, and then Cas was all encompassing. 

Dean had felt this feeling once before. It had burned and crashed through him, sliding up his chest and bursting from his mouth and eyes, leaving him shaking with power as a simmering pain seemed to take root and never let up. His thoughts had been jumbled back then, fighting a force he couldn’t see but he could feel, and he knew he wasn’t alone in his head. At first he could control his own body but then his hands had moved without him wanting them to and he was in a dark room. His boots had splashed through water and it only took him a moment to realize the water was rising, pressing him up to the ceiling before consuming him, and then he would wake up coughing, sucking in air on his hands and knees in puddles that continued to grow. 

This did not feel like that. There was a similarity, of course, in the way his body knew it was no longer a home to one consciousness but two, but Cas… Cas swept through him like a soothing balm. It was like he belonged there, like he’d always lived within him. He was somewhere Dean could finally keep him safe forever and he relaxed into it, letting out a sigh as he shivered with an unexpected dose of pleasure. 

“Dean.” Cas’ voice sounded in his head, or maybe the voice had come out of his own mouth, Dean was too far gone to know. 

“Castiel.” Dean answered. 

A squeeze to his dick and just the right pressure on his prostate had him suddenly crying out. His body shuddered and he vaguely registered something hot hitting his stomach over and over again in long spurts. He trembled so hard he was probably vibrating and he was definitely seeing stars or fireworks or maybe it was twelve hundred comets falling from the sky, he really wasn’t picky. Cas was wrapped so tightly around his mind, his body, his soul, and he felt it when Cas also reached his own climax. It zinged through Dean’s entire body and his dick gave one last pulse in excitement as Cas spilled inside him. 

Dean couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He tried, dammit he tried, but his head was spinning and his body felt like someone had popped a hole in him and sucked out all the air. Cas swirled around him, touching every part of him, every organ, every cell and atom and molecule. And then Dean felt him begin to retreat, and he tried to reach out for him but he could feel Cas’ determination force his efforts back. 

“Don’t go,” Dean begged. But it was too late, Dean was alone in his body again, sucking in air, and Cas was above him blinking at him through glossy blue eyes.

“Dean,” Cas immediately pulled out of him and moved to the side, there was a wariness to his voice. 

Dean was still trying to get his brain to catch up with what the fuck just happened. He and Cas fucked for one thing, but they’d done more than that. Dean had just let Cas- shit. The things you do in the throws of passion, huh? Dean thought, and then he laughed. Cas was still looking at him in abject horror. 

“Dean,” Cas said again, and his serious tone just set Dean off again until he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. 

Cas was patient, he waited until Dean had calmed down and then Dean looked at him through watery eyes, tears of laughter flowing down his cheeks. “What?” he said through shaking gulps of air.

“I do not see what’s so amusing about what I just- Dean I am so sorry.” 

Dean’s smile dropped, and then he was sitting up on the bed, looking at Cas in confusion and probably a little heartbreak. “For what?”

Cas looked at him like he’d grown three heads and a tail. “Dean, I possessed you.” 

“Uh, yeah, in case you forgot, it kinda takes two to tango,” Dean replied, affronted. 

Cas still looked positively beside himself with worry. “But- Dean you don’t understand, I- I didn’t mean to do it. I just- I lost control and everything was so much and-” 

Dean reached for the angel and pulled them together in a bruising kiss. “Shut up,” he snapped against his mouth. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to.” 

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, and he looked like a scared puppy. 

Dean cleared his throat and decided that maybe he should try to get better at honesty instead of deflection. “I mean, okay, I wasn’t really expecting it to happen. I didn’t really know what I was saying yes to but I just wanted you, and I wanted to be closer, and I guess that was enough for you to… well…” 

“Possess you.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.”

“I won’t do it again,” Cas said earnestly. “I didn’t even know I was capable of possessing two people at once.” 

“Cas, I- wait, two people at once?” Dean said, confused. 

“Yes. It seems that I was still able to control this vessel and also be within you. I’ve never heard of dual possession with the same grace before and it’s possible that it’s something that’s come with my new powers.”

Dean was grinning at him, because Cas looked absolutely adorable with the way he was pouting in confusion. “That’s awesome. You’re awesome, Cas.” 

“I- thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Dean beamed and kissed him again. “You don’t have to restrain yourself,” he said softly. “If I hadn’t wanted you in my head I wouldn’t have let you in.” 

“You weren’t necessarily consciously aware of what you were doing-” Cas began to argue but Dean silenced him. 

“Maybe because I’ve always made a conscious decision to push down my feelings for you. So when you were like this and you… wanted me… I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you too. Subconsciously, consciously, it doesn’t matter. I wanted you.” 

Cas finally seemed to get it. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” Dean agreed, brushing his thumb over the stubble along Cas’ jaw. “I want you, Cas. Probably always have.” 

“I see,” Cas said slowly. “You love me.”

Dean snapped his eyes to meet Cas’ and there was nothing but his own love reflecting in Cas’ eyes. “Yeah, Cas. I do. Don’t know when that happened but I really fucking do. You might piss me off a lot of the time, and you should really get better taste in music and cars and learn to stop putting yourself in danger all the time, but dammit I can’t function without you and I-I,” he fumbled on the words, swallowed, and then made himself say it, “I love you. So damn much. Probably too much.”

Cas was glowing in happiness. It was almost tangible. Part of Dean was afraid The Empty would come again and he darted his eyes around the room for a moment, but nothing appeared. Cas was still here and he was looking at Dean like he’d hung the damn moon and stars and told the ocean to go in and out with the tide and the sun to rise and set, and it was a lot. 

“I love you too,” Cas said. “More than I am capable of loving anything.”

Dean couldn’t look at him anymore, and his body was failing him due to exhaustion, so he tugged Cas in close and let the angel wrap him in his arms, cradling him under his chin. It was then that Dean realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life like this. He wanted to own a house with windows and a yard, and host a barbecue every summer, and catch a fish for dinner, and not feel that heavy weight of his gun against his back every day. He wanted a life. And maybe he’d never have two point five kids and a dog but he’d have Cas and that was what mattered.

“What do you think about retirement?” Dean asked into Cas’ chest.

He could feel Cas smile against his hair. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

tag list, ask to be added or removed

@undeadcas @tearsofgrace @hellerstiel @casgetoutofmyass0907 @wantstoflyafraidtofall @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @thepixelagora@thelahatiel  @im-sam-fucking-winchester@piebook67 @bestiarum@theedeangirl@november5th@bixlasagna@ancient-fangirl@famouspsychicpizzabandit@you-cant-spell-subtext-without@bumbledumble1@cascigarette@addicted2demons @our-stars-graveside @fivefeetfangirl @evillittleguy @nekoshi13

[youchangedmedestiel]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 1,092

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mentioned Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester - Relationship

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Mentioned Eileen Leahy - Character, mentioned Sam Winchester - Character

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Fluff, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Neck Kissing, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester

Summary:

After defeating Chuck, Sam and Eileen are together and Cas and Dean too. They all keep hunting while switching teams. Sam and Eileen are out of the bunker on a witch hunt, while Cas and Dean rests lazily in their bed to recover from their previous werewolf case.

[homoangel]

(jack did not want to live with those men without cas again)

[dailywincestspam]

#they do weird sex shit in heaven bc its not like theyre going to die (tags via @vamphunting​)

#yes #but also hes not dead yet cus its only been a year since they defeated god (tags via @brotherwifesam) 

#amen to that #baby brother works his mouth like a pro (tags via @say-yes-to-hole​)

#hahaha #pls #dean missed out on several decades worth of birthday bajowskis on earth after he died #sam’s gotta make up for lost bjs (tags via @mannequin3thereckoning)

good morning to Dean Winchester getting the sloppiest, messiest birthday blowjob he's ever gotten from Sam

[monsterfuckermilligan]

His body still has the scar Sam’s soul bullet gave him from the equalizer.

Chuck realizes it when he starts getting itchy from the sweat that’s bursting like beads under his heavy suit jacket. Nobody ever realized it, because they didn’t know him that well, but he despises suits. He’s always been a sweatpants and t-shirt kinda guy, and this is the reason. The fabric on his skin feels like sandpaper rubbing up against him despite how comfortable the material is supposed to be.

He scratches at the scar, then runs his fingers through his curls to get them out of his face. They’re slick and damp and slimy—he’s been walking now for hours. His feet hurt so much they’re almost numb. Except for the spots on his heels where, he knows without looking, blisters are forming because he hasn’t used them like this in years.

For a fleeting moment he has the egregious idea, supplied from somewhere in his brain, that they won’t be there forever. Then the reality sinks in, heavy on his chest, a boulder being plunged into the lake he can still smell from however many miles back. And then the knowledge sits there, festering into an unwanted, ugly mass—He isn’t coming back.

The thought causes him to stumble, almost falling to his knees once again. What a pathetic sight he must be; dirty, used, discarded.

Chuck looks up, eyes stinging. He wipes them with the back of his hand, realizing just how badly he needs to wash them. He’s close enough to whatever the nearest town is for him to see the city lights, and that’s the only reason he’s able to deal with it all. Beyond that, he still isn’t sure. He’s more of a pantser than a planner, unlike Him.

He notices the stars in the sky look a bit like that scar on his shoulder; the only scar that the being that possessed him couldn’t heal. The imagery makes his fingers itch to write, but he can’t. He has nothing on him, not his pocket notebook, not even his ID.

Besides that, Chuck isn’t even sure he wants to write anymore. The thought makes him feel a bit nauseous.

But he supposes the story has already been written. He’s always loved a good parallel.

[xviruserrorx]

I still think it would have been funny is they pulled that Amara -> Michael, Chuck -> Lucifer parallel a bit farther and when Lucifer comes back in 15x19 he goes to Michael and pulls the whole speech to join his side and all while Michael's sitting back on a beach somewhere and pulls an Amara like "Adam wants to go to Paris next. You know what I like about Paris? It's so not you."

[babyblue-mind]

*spn finale spoilers

just processed that when adam returned post 15x19 (and michael is dead) that he’d think he’d just left him. because all the people who were gone came back thinking nothing had happened. so it would be like he blinked and michael left.

[alulaspeaks]

Better things

for @wincestwednesdays​ week 1: americana (never mind it being a week+ late)

They drive out at midday, down an old logging road bordered by No Trespassing signs faded to a papery yellow and pock-marked with bird shot. They pass a pull off, and Dean catches a glimpse of a gravel beach on the edge of a glistening lake as they head deeper into the woods. It’s hot out for September in the Northwoods, and humid, too. Dean’s got sweat beading down the back of his neck by the time they're rummaging through the trunk for their gear.

“Should have brought the last couple beers,” he grumbles, swatting at the mosquito probing at his shoulder. He can picture them sitting in the motel’s mini fridge and half wishes he could go back and crawl in with them.

Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s a hunt, not a party.” Which is dumb, given the number of times they’ve pulled beers from the cooler while they were both still bloody. Sam swings his backpack over his shoulder, and it clinks suspiciously, but Dean doesn’t say anything, just makes a note and pulls out the map.

Dean hates these doghair forests that pop up after logging--young trees growing so thick together you can’t see through them for shit--but they stick to the map and Sam’s compass and soon enough it opens up into older forest and then to a clearing. One side borded by reeds, a break opening to the water’s edge on the far side of the lake Dean glimpsed earlier, and in the shadows of the trees on the other side, the remnants of an old log cabin slouch in the shade.

He catches Sam’s eye, pulls out the EMF reader, and they get to work. 

It goes as quick and easy as it can when you have to locate and dig up an unmarked grave. It’s getting dark by the time Sam dodges a flying tree branch and drops the lit book of matches into the grave. There’s the satisfying fwoosh of the gasoline catching and then the even more satisfying burst of light as the ghost flames out, stringy white hair falling in burning clumps and disappearing before they hit the ground.

“Never gets old,” Dean says, and grins at Sam as they catch their breath. He stands from where he's crouched and his lower back twinges. He groans and rubs his knuckles in to the worst of it.

"Well, somethings get old," Sam says, flashing Dean a smug little grin as if he isn't graying at the temples, as if they weren’t both bitching when they were knee deep in the grave. It’s rude is what it is and Dean is not letting Sam score this point uncontested.

"Shut up and give me my beer," Dean says and grins when Sam freezes, caught out, and then breaks into that dorky, sheepish smile he gets sometimes. But he heads over to his bag and pulls out a motel towel wrapped loosely around the beers Dean heard clinking around. He loves being right.

The distant crunch of gravel and the slamming of car doors snags Dean's attention. The grave is still burning, making them way more visible than he'd like, the last thing they need is someone getting curious.

He walks over to the shore and sees a car pulled up on the gravel beach he spotted earlier. The doors are wide open, headlights on, lighting up the water’s edge in the evening gloom. Someone crosses through the beams, dragging what must be a whole damn stump behind them. And if Dean had to hazard a guess, theirs won't be the only fire burning for long. Which means they've got nothing to worry about.

The breeze has died down since the sun set, which means there’s nothing to keep the mosquitos away. One buzzes past Dean’s ear and he tries to swat at it discretely. He can handle almost anything, but he’s got zero tolerance for itching, and no desire to give Sam--who pretends to be unbothered by mosquitos even though he hates them as much as Dean--another in to poke fun at him.

Sam comes over, hands Dean an open beer and they settle in to watch the wood pile grow. There's three guys and they’ve got to be teenagers, judging by the sheer size of the branches they drag over and the truly frightening amount of lighter fuel they douse the pile with.

"Too much," Sam says, shaking his head.

"Gonna lose an eyebrow."

Another car pulls up beside the first and three girls pile out. "Ladies!" one of the boys calls, voice carrying across the lake. "Your bonfire awaits."

He lights a match with a flourish and drops it, and just like Dean knew it would, the whole pile explodes into flame with a roar. It sends the boys diving for cover. Everyone turning back to stare at the jumping flames. The shocked silence soon turns into giddy laughter, as the fire settles into a steady blaze.

"Hey," Sam says and the half-buried humor in his voice sets Dean's alarm bells blaring, "remember that time--"

"No. Nope. No idea what you're talking about. Drink your beer." Dean absolutely remembers the first time he used too much lighter fluid. Only he wasn't lighting up a bonfire, and it wasn't a girl he was trying to impress.

Dean can hear Sam’s quiet laughter gusting across the mouth of his beer bottle.

"Sam," Dean warns, but Sam grins bigger, and tucking it behind the lip of his beer isn't doing a thing to hide it.

"What? I'm just drinking my beer."

“Right,” Dean says, pursing his lips to hide the way he wants to laugh, too.

Across the lake, there's a high-pitched squeal as one of the guys throws a girl over his shoulder and marches into the shallow water. The squeal turns into a shout as he tips her in, but a second later he goes down, taken out at the ankles.

“Ah, young love,” Dean says and elbows Sam who just huffs and shakes his head.

“What, you too good for a little end of summer fling?” Dean turns to look at Sam, catches him picking at the edge of the label where its gone soggy with condensation.

“Nah,” Sam says with a shrug, “guess, I’ve just outgrown it.” Then he looks at Dean, and he's still got a smile hanging around the corner of his mouth but it's different now. It's the kind that makes the world go a little quiet, makes Dean wonder how the hell they got here, after everything. "There's better things.”

Maybe there’s a world out there, in all of Chuck’s failed drafts, where Sam looking at him like that doesn’t make Dean feel like he could never want anything else, but it isn’t this one.

“Yeah, I'll drink to that,” Dean says after a moment. And if he has to clear his throat, Sam doesn’t say anything, just holds his bottle out for Dean’s to clink against.

Laughter drifts across the lake. The fuzzy sound of Tom Petty playing on a distant car radio, hot summer air turning cool in the moonlight, and everything is right as it should be.

“Gonna run down the battery,” Dean says as he steps up into Sam’s space, watches Sam’s smile go fond.

“Amateurs,” Sam says and lays a heavy hand on his waist. 

Dean loves the way Sam’s eyes darken, loves the sharpness of his jaw, the curve of his neck he leans--wait a damn minute. There’s a mosquito on Sam’s neck, right by the collar of his shirt.

Dean acts on instinct, smacks him, hard. Sam jolts in surprise, stepping back and covering his neck.

“Mosquito,” Dean says by way of explanation and turns his bloody palm to Sam. “You’re welcome.” 

Sam pulls a face, dodges back when Dean tries to rub his bloody palm clean on his shoulder.

But that’s not the end of it. They’ve clearly been discovered by a whole damn swarm of mosquitos because suddenly they’re everywhere. There’s a prick on the back of his hand and Dean smacks at it with side of his beer bottle, perfectly good beer fizzing over his fingers and splattering across the ground.

“Frigging mosquitos!” Dean says, a little louder than he should while Sam is busy swatting inelegantly at the air around his face. Sam catches his eye and they both freeze for a second.

“Wanna get the out of here?” Sam asks.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, and downs the last of his beer. 

If they grab their gear and sprint for the Impala, no one needs to know. It’s just them after all.

[hotel-casifornia]

you guys know what wouldve been crazy

what if in the confession scene they had dean on his knees like he was in 8x17 Goodbye Stranger in the crypt… like what if.,, season 15 dean down on his old man knees * being told that cas cared about the whole world because of him..; what if instead of the handprint on his jacket * it was on his cheek to parallel how cas healed him in 8x17:,. are you guys listening can anyont hear me

* citation: see 12x23 All Along the Watchtower, 15x09 The Trap

* citation: see 4x01 Lazarus Rising, 4x10 Heaven and Hell, 15x18 Despair, 15x19 Inherit the Earth

[silver-stake-through-the-heart]

Chuck killed Adam when he was having a date with Michael. Spread the word! Everyone should know!!!

[t00muchheart]

Going into a show knowing you’re going to hate the ending and not accept it as real is a wild time, this is what it truly means to just be along for the ride

[soullessjack]

just watched inherit the earth literwlly for the first time since it aired and. on one note, there’s a lot I want to say about dean dissociating himself from the situation so much that his behavior seems regressive and insincere, but on another note entirely. he was gonna get big fancy recliners and a giant tv for jack. okay.

[miharuhebinata]

for all of season 15's faults chuck was SUCH a good fucking villain my god rob benedict KILLED IT

[tgtbata]

happy wincest mittwoch! what is your favorite era of wincest to explore artistically, and what makes it so appealing to you? is it also your favorite era of the show just in general, from a viewer standpoint?

oh perhaps slightly embarrassing to answer but i love drawing later seasons married!chesters. not actually married, but as close as can be. simply because at heart i am secretly the soggiest being alive and i love the domesticity and gentleness and relief of it and i love adding a little bit of grey to dean’s temples. but i do also love sam’s stupid early bangs and motel aesthetic and tbh a lot of the stuff i want to draw i haven’t drawn yet (and a lot of that is more episode/season specific) so i guess my very favourite thing is that there are so many different angles and eras to explore :p married era is also one of my favourites to watch but it’s definitely not the sole top 1 simply because i love everything before that as well.

[angelsdean]

i remember when i was first watching spn back in dec 2020 before i even had this blog some anons were trying to tell me to skip 1x08 bugs bc it was so bad and stuff and i was like. thanks for the heads up but i cannot ?? skip an episode ?? i need to know everything that happens !! like esp in the early seasons, things are being established. everything is important. i wasn't even in it for the hashtag studies yet but i was like ??? i am not skipping an ep ??