#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

[sailorsally]

Guess I'll be doing (some of) Suptober this year, yay!!

Day 1: Harvest

(continuation of this silly lil doodle from yesterday)

[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 

[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.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Shiver Me Timbers

Because I am a crazy person, in October I am going to post a small fic every day, and each one will use the day’s prompt from Flufftober, the prompt from Suptober, and a word from a random word generator. Today’s story is also a surprise fourth part from my Take Me to the Carnival series...

Flufftober prompt: Winning a teddy for the other Suptober prompt: Harvest Random generator word: Dry

(Read on AO3)

Cas was aware of the significance of the day. They'd exchanged murmured sweetnesses and a couple of dry, perfunctory pecks on the lips about it that morning, before Dean had muttered “errands and crap” and headed out. That had seemed the extent of the effort they would make to mark the occasion, and Cas was fine with that. After more than a decade as a human, he still took his social cues from his husband. If Dean didn't see a need to make a big deal out of the anniversary of his proposal, then no big deal would be made.

He didn't pay much attention when Dean returned shortly after noon and immediately disappeared again, saying something about his car. Dean spent endless hours working on Baby, swapping in replacement parts he'd bought online or detailing her to a dazzling shine. Cas had simply waved as he'd walked past, then carried on with his own project. He was close to perfecting a flap and gusset heel, something he hoped would give the socks he knitted for his family a better fit in the arch. The practice was pleasant and absorbing, and he gave little thought to the passage of the hours.

As evening neared, though, Cas began to want his dinner. A quick check of the garage produced no Dean, and no sign that anyone had been working in there recently. As he was pulling his phone out of his back pocket to send a “where r u <3” message, Dean came up behind him.

“Hey babe, you lookin' for me?” he asked in a voice gone breathy with exertion.

“Yes, I was wondering about food.” Cas peered at his husband. “You seem flushed. Were you just... running?”

The color on Dean's cheeks intensified. “Yeah, I, uh... Wanted to grab you before you made yourself a PB&J or something. Dinner's this way, c'mon.” He hooked a couple fingers into one of Cas's belt loops and tugged him towards the stairs that led out of the Bunker.

Cas was confused, to say the least. “Dinner is outside?” Dean was inordinately fond of his kitchen, and took great pleasure in serving meals to his family there.

“Yeah, got something special set up for you. Look.” They'd passed through the front door and around the corner of the building to the meadow that stretched behind their home. It was normally a wild, lovely place of knee-high grass and wildflowers, but today he could see that it had been tamed, and transformed.

“Oh, Dean,” Cas sighed, stunned by what his husband had done for him.

The grass had been cut, left shorter but still soft, and a room-sized space had been cleared. White fairy lights were strung on poles around the edges of the area, and more strings of lights crisscrossed above it. A rough-hewn picnic table stood in the center of the clearing, covered with a white tablecloth and loaded down with a bountiful harvest of dishes and bowls of food. To the side a wooden porch swing, heaped with throw pillows and colorful blankets and suspended from a sturdy steel frame, swayed in the breeze.

In the far corner of the lot he could see some sort of... stand? There was a folding table and two chairs, a couple of small objects on the table, and some sort of sign rigged above the whole thing that hung from the lights above. The sun was more than halfway below the horizon now, though, and the light was dimming to dusk. From where they stood the contents of the table, and the writing on the sign, were unclear.

“What...? What is all this?”

He looked to Dean for an explanation, and his husband bashfully provided.

“Well, it's our anniversary. The night I proposed. I wanted to take you back, you know, to the fair. But they're not holding it this year because of, ugh, everything, so I had to bring the fair to you!” He grinned and gestured at the table. “Food! I made corn dogs, lemonade, fried pickles, kettle corn, funnel cakes, steak sandwiches, I even made candy apples!” He turned to the swing and pointed. “Rides! It won't go as high as the pirate boat, but we're getting' a little old for that much excitement anyway. Aaaannnd...” Taking Cas's hand, Dean pulled him to the far corner. “Games!”

Cas could read the sign now: KISSING BOOTH. The objects on the table were a pair of small plush toys – a teddy bear, and a fat bumblebee.

“Best kisser wins a prize...” Dean purred into his ear.

“There are two prizes here, and two of us.”

“I happen to know we're both really good at kissing.”

“Fair enough.” Cas leaned in for a little practice. “You're right. We are exceptionally skilled at this game. Let's play it all night.”