#suptober21 day 1

[doublebill]

Suptober 2021 - Day 1: Harvest

Dean smiles to himself as Castiel pulls another spindly carrot out of the ground and beams up at him with pride.

It had been too late in the year to plant anything worthwhile when they first moved into the small dilapidated house, but Dean had cleared the whole yard, buying in vast amounts of compost and digging the whole place up for Cas to plant whatever he wanted the following spring. Considering all of the time, and effort, and hundreds of dollars they'd ploughed into the garden, Cas had managed to harvest about $10 worth of usable vegetables.

Despite this, it was all worth it. Dean would do the exact same thing every year for the rest of his life if it meant that Cas would look that happy, pulling underformed root vegetables out of the ground.

"Maybe we could make a stew." Cas said, nodding to the half a dozen long, pencil-thin carrots he cradled in his arms as he headed back up the new wooden steps into the house.

He placed them in the sink to wash off the dirt and Dean wrapped himself around his angel's back.

"Yeah, Cas. Stew would be great. If you want to go and wash up, I'll get started."

Castiel turned in his arms and gave him a gentle kiss before he headed to the bathroom to wash the sweat and grime from his body. Angel he may be, but they both knew that Cas' mojo was waning, he didn't waste it on things like wishing himself clean anymore. There was something nice and homey about that, it made this feel more real, like they were real people. Dean had spent decades not fitting in with society, being on the fringe and now he had a normal little life. He worked at the hardware store in town, Cas volunteered at an animal shelter a few days a week, and spent the rest of his time, pottering around the little house and garden.

Dean sighed at the carrots and turned on the faucet to rinse away the earth and gathered the other (store bought) vegetables to make the stew.

He remembered a story of a man who offered to show a poor family how to make soup from a stone in return for shelter and food for the night. Cas' carrots reminded him a little of that. He chopped the carrots, along with onions, and potatoes, and half a dozen other types of vegetable, putting them in a pan over a low heat and went to work on making some bread.

The house was getting there. He did pretty much all of the renovations himself, getting tools and materials at cost through his job was helpful. It was slow work, but it was making a space that reflected them. It had soft couches and a good TV, bookshelves, houseplants, Cas had even bought Dean an acoustic guitar from a thrift store in Kansas City for last Christmas. It was a far cry from the giant, austere, concrete bunker, but what it lacked in space and hunting resources, it made up in heart and comfort. There was a spare room, and a pull out couch so there was room for Sam and Eileen to stay when they came by for dinner every couple of weeks. There was an old Nintendo system that Dean had picked up for a steal in a garage sale for when Jack dropped in.

Dean was kneading the dough when Cas walked back into the kitchen, wearing soft pajamas, his damp hair sticking up wildly. He walked over to the stove and gave the stew an appreciative sniff. Dean plopped the dough in a large bowl and covered it with a towel to let it rise. After rinsing his hands, he pulled Cas with him into the living room to slump onto the couch. He ran his fingers gently through Cas' hair as he lay back against Dean's chest.

"Maybe we could get chickens. Then we could get eggs all year round. Maybe we could trade some with our neighbours as I don't seem to be terribly good at growing them."

"Eggs?"

Cas snorted "Vegetables. I am fully aware that this wasn't the bountiful harvest I was expecting when we planted them."

"We're both new at this, it'll get better." Dean pressed a soft kiss to the top of Cas' head.

And it did.

With the end of the great cosmic Winchester saga, Dean had been worried that normal life just wouldn't be able to satisfy him but he couldn't have been more wrong. He made friends, regular meet-at-the-bar-for-a-couple-of-beers friends. They went to barbecues and became well-known in their community for being a kind and friendly (if slightly odd) couple. He had his friends, he had his family, and he had his Cas.

That winter, he made a point of learning a Skynrd song on the guitar. On Christmas Eve, by the light of the fire, he serenaded Cas with Simple Man. At the end, he put the guitar aside, knelt down in front of Cas, and asked him to marry him. 

With tears of joy in his eyes, Cas said yes.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34184017

[estrel]

SUPTOBER DAY ONE: HARVEST → cas doesn't want dean to carve his pumpkin even though dean reminds him that's why they got it in the first place 🎃

[skeletonsinzeeclost]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

"Dude... you fugly..."

[unfamiliar-reference]

Super-natural tree.

Suptober 2021 Day 1 : Harvest

[emeraldinspn-world]

#Suptober21 Day 1: Harvest

Jack is telling Sam how he plans to draw his family in his pumpkin.

[artymcart]

SUPTOBER 2021

Day 1 // Harvest

"I wish I could grow some plants" Cas said, as he looked longingly over the big Pumpkin Patch they drove by.

"Maybe Sammy can do some magic... literally" Sam raised his head from his book, his little baby daughter cradled and drooling in the sling around his chest.

"Mh, maybe...but it didn't workout for the bees, so I really don't know if plants will work".

"Can we harvest some pumpkins at least? We're in our world, so they're safe to eat, I could pickle them and I want some for Halloween..and pie~" the ex-angel looked at his husband, who was driving the bus.

The hunter took a deep breath and sighed.

"Fine- but no creepy carvings and no all hollows eve gods or creatures being summond! Worst first date ever."

Sam chuckled behind him.

"You're no fun!"

"Cas!"

"Yeah yeah, no gods or creatures, got it. I already have some ideas anyway." He kissed Dean on the cheek and grinned at him "Back then I thought you're the best thing that happened to humanity."

Sam laughed out loud, waking up his daughter who started a crying fit.

"I still believe that" Cas murmured and leaned against Deans shoulder, looking at the long road ahead.

ENDVERSE AU

[c-kaeru]

Suptober21 by @winchester-reload, day 30 : feathers (ofc I did the wings tat)

[sheepstiel]

Suptober #1: Harvest

[dunkindestieldonuts]

Cas with his haul from the pumpkin patch for Suptober! (based on my favorite fall photo of Hugh Dancy)

[theplaidfox]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

[iamasphodelknox]

Welp… here’s the very first thing I’ve ever posted for Destiel. In honor of Suptober 2021!

Day 1 - Harvest

“What the fuck?”

Dean came to a screeching halt at the base of the bunker’s stairs, not entirely sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

The map table was covered. Piles of spaghetti squash covered the chairs, late harvest tomatoes were lined in rows over the map of Russia, a basket of pears sat perched over Argentina, a whole bin of apples took up the entire African continent. What Dean was sure was his weight in something that looked like butternut squash, and sunflowers the size of his head populated Antarctica. It was a cornucopia of harvest straight out of those mythology books he’d read as a kid.

They weren’t dealing with a rogue harvest goddess here, were they?

The door above him opened and shut and Dean could tell by the familiar footprints that Cas was walking down the stairs.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said, his tone level and thoroughly unsurprised at the bounty before them on the table. Dean’s heart took its customary leap - as was usual whenever Dean heard or saw Cas - and Dean thought that, if Cas sounded so normal, maybe things were okay.

“Cas, what the…” Dean started and turned only to be greeted by Cas looking completely serene, holding four white pumpkins in his arms and entirely wrapped in their vines.

Dean felt his eyebrows migrate to his hairline.

“Where… are you cursed?” Dean asked.

Cas rolled his eyes. “No Dean, this is all from the garden.”

“The… what?”

Cas walked past Dean and piled the pumpkins onto the table, nearly knocking over a bushel of corn piled like a pyramid on top of a book on, perfectly enough, corn goddesses from ancient Ireland.

“I planted the garden in the spring,” Cas said calmingly, scooting the corn out of his way. “This is the harvest.”

“You… grew all this?” Dean knew he sounded like he was slow on the uptake but he’d seen a lot of things in his life and walking into the war room with the map table covered like a scene out of a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving painting wasn’t on the list.

Cas smiled, good-natured and slightly condescending. “I did.”

Dean licked his lips, this small detail of Cas’s activities somehow making his heart beat faster than it usually did around Cas. Sam had told him to get his head out of his ass three weeks ago, when Sam had caught Dean humming - humming - to himself after going to the Farmer’s Market with Cas. As much as Dean wished he could pretend he wasn’t that love struck, Sam was his brother and didn’t miss a beat in telling Dean to tell Cas the truth or regret it forever.

Except, how did you tell someone you loved that you loved them? Especially the way Dean loved Cas? Cas was a dude… as much as he could be. Dean was… well, Dean. He left a trail of bodies in his wake and everything he touched turned to dust.

Except Cas. Who, even though he’d left and Dean had sent him away, had always come back. Enough to plant a garden near the bunker.

Maybe this was a place to start.

“Can I see?”

Cas paused, bent over his pumpkin sorting, freezing in place. He turned his head slowly, sharp eyes meeting Dean’s hopeful ones.

“The garden?”

Dean nodded. Cas stared at him for a solid minute, and Dean stared back, as if allowing Cas to do angelic shit and look at his soul or whatever would convince Cas of Dean’s true motives.

Maybe not… too true though. Dean wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

Cas stood up straight, a determined look in his eye, took three steps over to Dean, grasped Dean’s hand in his, and tugged.

Dean sucked in a breath, suddenly filling his lungs with fresh, green air instead of the stuffy dry air of the bunker.

“You gotta warn me, buddy,” Dean said halfheartedly. Cas just smirked, and tugged again, this time physically. Dean followed - because in his heart of hearts he’d follow Cas anywhere - and let Cas tug him to a mostly organized patch of land.

Laid out similarly to the war table was a garden even more abundant than the plethora of plants and fruits and flowers in the bunker. Squashes that Dean didn’t recognize, five different types of tomatoes, pumpkins in several colors, and row after row of autumn flowers were laid out in front of Dean like a rainbow. He stood in shock for a moment, realizing belatedly that his hand was still tangled with Cas’s.

“What do you think?” Cas asked shyly and Dean momentarily wondered why this was the first time he was hearing of the garden.

Dean gave Cas’s hand a squeeze instead, tearing his gaze away from the garden to the uncertain, yet hopeful look on Cas’s face. Cas was looking between the garden and Cas, almost as if he was torn between wanting to protect the garden from judgement and wanting to hear Dean’s praise.

Maybe Sammy was right, Dean thought. Maybe it was time to get his head out of his ass.

Dean grinned. “How can I help?”

Cas’s answering, blinding, incandescent grin was all the answer Dean needed.

[shishquahcustardtree]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

#suptober21 

[rain-bow-chaser]

"Blueberries, blackberries, strawberries," Castiel mumbled to himself as he wrote down a list of ingredients he needed. The sound of the pencil scratching across the smooth page of his moleskin notebook brought with it comfort in its familiarity. A comfort that Castiel himself didn't know he needed. Moving out to a small cottage at the edge of town had been a choice he made on a whim and although he was in love with his new home, it was still unfamiliar to him.

He had needed the distance, needed the peace and solitude even if it meant having to travel on foot an hour to and from the store to get groceries. Selling his car had been a necessary evil that he accepted because walking everywhere allowed him to get intimately acquainted with the space around him.

Castiel pocketed his notebook and picked up his totebag that hung from a coat hook near the front door. He checked his pockets for his wallet before stepping out and locking the door behind him. The cracked blue paint of the front door was one of the reasons Castiel had picked this house and it still made him smile to see it. The previous owner had left behind a couple of buckets of paint and Castiel was already planning to retouch the door before it got too cold to do.

The summer heat was quickly being leached out of the sunlight as fall began to creep in in earnest. Castiel hummed softly to himself as he made his way down the road, silently greeting the flowers and the bees as he went. The time went by syrupy slow, as it tended to do during his walks. Not that he minded, it was refreshing and it allowed him the time to let his mind wander and really take in the scenery.

"Oh, hey, you survived your first week out there," the owner of the small shop, Cheryl, said in way of greeting. She smiled and waved when Castiel walked in.

"Just about," Castiel smiled back. She chatted at him while he picked through the produce, told him all about which local farms grew what. It gave him a sense of community to be buying local produce, even though he didn't yet know anyone in town. Other than Cheryl.

"Is that going to be it?" Cheryl asked as she started ringing him up. Castiel considered some of the seed packets neatly arranged on the counter. They were clearly done by hand, someone's neat script labeled each packet, a tiny hand drawn picture of each vegetable under the labels.

"I think- yes, I think I'd like to purchase some of these," Castiel said with a firm nod.

"Oh, perfect. What did you have in mind? You know what, let me pick some for you. You said you wanted to do some bee farming-" Cheryl looked through the packets and picked out four different ones, "here, these ones will give you some gorgeous blooms, not to mention the bees just love them. You got a mixture of herbs and local flowers there to help you ease into gardening. The envelopes have instructions and tips for better planting."

Castiel took the preferred packets and gently pocketed them before paying, "thank you, Cheryl, I truly appreciate all the help you've given me. You've made me feel so welcomed."

"Don't you mention it, I'm just glad you've settled in ok," she responded and gave him his change, "speaking of welcoming, we have a harvest feast coming up this weekend, you should drop by. Now, I warn you, you have to bring a dish to share."

"Oh, uh-"

"I won't take no for an answer. It'll be good for you to get to know people and everyone's curious about who bought the cottage," Cheryl insisted. Her gentle smile and kind eyes told Castiel that she would take no for an answer.

"I think I can probably whip up a pie," Castiel said with a bashful smile.

"Perfect, saturday at 3 in the park, don't you forget that pie," Cheryl said and waved him off.

A pie for the harvest festival, he could handle that. Maybe he'd even be able to handle meeting new people.

[tibbinswrites]

Day 1 - Harvest

You reap what you sow. Dean had always been taught that. In John’s very specific way of course. He reaps, those he saves get to sow. 

Watching autumn press closer this year is a strange feeling, he thinks from his vantage at the corner table in a coffee shop. The shorts and tank-tops begin to shift into jeans and sweaters. The frappuccinos become pumpkin spice (Dean isn’t complaining, not that he’d ever tell Sam) and the laziness of free summer days take on the more polished air of competent people with competent routines. He wonders, too often, if Cas ever felt like this, watching humans evolve over the eons, day by day, so slowly it’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment when everything changed.

Once his mind begins to wander that way, it’s hard to pull back from. He doesn’t mind dwelling on thoughts of Cas anymore, the sharp edge of his loss has eased into a dull ache. It still cripples him sometimes, but less, and the memories are comforting. They’re about all that he has that can even make him smile anymore. He barely notices the sadness clinging to them. All his memories are sad in some way or another.

The bell above the door tinkles and a man enters in a beige coat. It causes a stab in his gut even though the man is light-haired, and the colour and cut of the coat is completely wrong anyway. It’s a thin coat, light. It’s not yet so cold for anything heavier, indeed, the man discards the coat almost immediately after entering the cosy interior of the coffee shop, folding it over his arm. Dean looks back out the window.

Perhaps it’s the chill draft from the briefly open door, perhaps it’s the turn in weather, or perhaps Dean just hasn’t had enough coffee yet, but he can’t help a sudden overwhelming feeling of bitterness as he looks out at the world, seeing the traffic, the people hurrying to and from places, ducking into shops, laughing, chatting, embracing, waiting at the crosswalk. All of them alive because of him. All of these people get to reap the rewards of his labour, of his loss, without even knowing a damn thing about it. But Dean Winchester doesn’t get a fucking harvest. All Dean Winchester gets is to watch the happiness that exists outside of himself. Sometimes it’s enough, most times it isn’t.

He knows it’s selfish, that once, not too long ago, seeing his brother happy and thriving, in love and fulfilled in his life, would have been all he needed to be content. Maybe even as little as a year ago he could have kidded himself. But they had come too close, he and Cas, far too close to becoming something, so close that began to rely on it as an option if he ever got strong enough to take it, began to look forward to that time even. And now, months after Cas’ confession and subsequent death, it’s the almost that kills him. The realisation that Cas felt the same, and the immediate knowledge that it was too late. The whole time they could have been… not more exactly, what Cas had been couldn’t take up more space in his heart if he’d tried, but something else, something that Dean had desperately wanted. Still desperately wants.

The man in the beige coat sits down opposite him, pulls out a brown paper bag and shoved it towards him with a glare. Dean responds in kind, tugging the bag towards him and peering inside. Then he nods, satisfied.

“Tell Rowena thanks.”

“She requests that you all come by when you’re done.” His face twists. “For tea.”

“We’d be delighted.” Dean says evenly. “I’ll keep her updated on how it goes.”

Draining the dregs of his coffee he stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and slinging it on, carefully tucking the jar of blood-red viscous liquid into his inside pocket. Fat droplets of rain begin to hit and slide down the glass of the window, increasing their intensity even in the short walk from his seat to the door. He pushes out into it and starts as a cold droplet immediately hits his face. Heading to where he parked Baby a block over. he sends a quick text to Sam, telling him that he’s on his way and that he’d managed to pick up the sap of the dragon’s blood tree, found only on a specific island off Yemen and the last ingredient they needed for the spell.

Dean placed the jar in the box he’d packed with bubble-wrap in the footwell of the passenger seat before making his way around to the driver’s side and opening the door. He pauses before getting in though, taking a moment to lift his face to the sky, allowing the rain to fall on his skin, and sends a quick prayer to Jack that he does what he can to make sure this one thing, just this one, goes right.

There’s a sudden break in the clouds overhead and Dean finds himself in the only spot of warm sunshine for probably a few miles. Then the rain closes in again, and Dean smiles, comforted in knowing he was at least heard.

As he gets in and starts up Baby’s engine, his bitterness from before transforms into hope, and a deep gratitude that everyone around him has been willing to help in this months-long endeavour. What had started as an insane idea born of the deepest kind of grief, accidentally voiced to Sam and Eileen one drunken night, became a kind of group cultivation. Calls had gone around the rest of the family, research had been done, strings had been pulled all over the country, theories had been brainstormed and tested. Cases had been handed over to others so that they could focus, even though Claire had been chomping at the bit to go out and kill something. He couldn’t have done this without them, and he knows that they’re (at least mostly) doing this for him.

He’s getting tired of reaping after all. He just wants the chance to help something grow.

[verobatto]

Suptoberart 2021. Day 1: Harvest.

Thank you @winchester-reload for hosting this event!

Have a quick sketch! (And a mini, tiny, little fic).

Traditional Drawing. Color pencils. Ink marker.

"Dean, I don't get the symbolism you said about our crops heads? Why am I a corn?" Asked Sam before going to the Harvest Festival in Lebanon.

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes, "Because you are a corny guy."

"I'm not--!"

"And why You choose the pumpkin for me, Dean?" Jack questioned enthusiastically as he smiled.

"Because the pumpkin is about rebirth! And you were reborn as the New God!" Dean explained, proudly.

The kid's smile became wider, "I like that."

"Okay, genius. Then, why you and Cas wear half oranges?" Sam crossed his arms over his grains of corn with a cocked eyebrow.

Dean flushed and glanced at Castiel who had just arrived, "Well, ahm... you know. Because Cas is my half orange?"

Castiel grimaced surprise and blushed slightly.

Jack nodded, "That's very romantic."

"And am I the corny guy here?" Sam mocked. But Dean wasn't listening anymore, because he was lost in Castiel's blue eyes and, of course, viceversa.

Half Orange: Media Naranja means soulmate.

[emeraldinspn-world]

#Suptober21 Day 1: Harvest

Dean is helping Cas in choosing his pumpkin but he got distracted by looking on bright and twinkling stars.