#thinking about something dean could have said that offended cas

[youchangedmedestiel]

"Cas, you did everything you could." Dean adds and lays a soft kiss behind Cas's ear. The angel wants to melt into it, to melt into his arms, but he is still upset.

"Did I?" Cas speaks finally, but his arms are still folded across his chest and he remains standing still. His body language is loud enough for Dean to understand that he feels so much guilt. But at least he answers, so this is a little victory and Dean is going to keep comforting him until Cas forgives himself.

"Of course you did." Dean answers with a soft tone, his thumb stroking Cas's shoulder. If his words don't sooth him, maybe his touches will.

"How could you know? You weren't there." Cas is still stuck in his guilt, deaf to Dean's pleas.

"I wasn't but I know you, Cas." Dean tries and he feels Cas's chest lifting heavily under his arm. He needs to see his eyes. "Cas, look at me." Dean orders and uses his grip on his shoulder to turn him around. Cas's gaze is looking down, he feels too ashamed to meet the righteous man's eyes. But Dean won't let go so easily. He cradles Cas's face with both hands and lifts it. "Please, look at me." He insists because the angel doesn't.

"Dean," he says when they finally lock eyes, his sense of guilt diminishes as he sees the fondness and unconditional love overflowing from the gaze of the man in front of him.

"Cas, you did everything you could." Dean repeats, but this time his eyes are planted into those incredibly blue ones that he sees starting to slightly believe him. He witnesses them beginning to fill with tears. "Come're." He adds, pulling the angel closer, a soothing hand on his back and another in his hair. Cas remains frozen, if he lets go of the guilt, the sadness will take over.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't -" Cas starts to explain, but is cut short by his own emotions filling his throat, he swallows them hard. But Dean felt that, and he understands, he can relate. Cas just needs to let go.

"I know, it's okay." Dean uses his hand in his hair to pull him closer and let Cas's head rest on his shoulder. He strokes his back with his other hand as he whispers, "you can let go - I'm here - always." And Cas does, he wraps his arms around Dean's waist and buries his face into the crook of his neck. The hunter perceives the tears of the man in his arms wet his neck. And he feels the need to tenderly add, "I love you." Cas's grip tightens at the sound of those three words.

"I love you too." He whispers back in Dean's neck. And Dean lays a soft kiss on his temple and lets his fingertips scrap Cas's scalp in a calming pace. He will stay in this position as long as his angel needs him to.

"Hey, you okay?"

"… talk to me Cas, come on"

A mission gone wrong, a traumatizing case, Angel troubles?? WHO KNOWS 👀 I hope you like this one!

Prints available here!

[my social media links]

[soullessjack]

🔥 jack

oh my godddd I have so many unpopular opinions where do I even start….HOLY DISCLAIMER BATMAN!

anyways so in no particular order or tier system:

✯ i don’t think jack would wear anything feminine im sorry spn fandom. for lolz he has same-outfit-pattern-everyday autism and for serious it’s like. Really weird how fandoms tend to HC/portray non-binary amabs (and men/transmascs in general) almost exclusively as GNC or fem-presenting��like DGMW that is a real and valid form of self expression but it’s not the Only type of non-binary expression that exists. and honestly…**dare I say that most fandom/queer spaces just need to realize that queer masculinity exists and it doesn’t always have to be a matter of breaking gender norms??

** genuinely do whatever u want idc I can’t stop you i don’t want to stop you yada yada. paint his nails and put him in a skirt all u want but Please recognize patterns yall 😭

✯ more headcanon complaints (see disclaimer above ⇧) but I promise to switch it up soon. anyways every time somebody on this lil website says something along the lines of “Jack can’t handle/doesn’t like [insert violence, scary or adult-oriented thing], he prefers [soft or blatantly childlike things]” I shrivel inward like a dead spider. It’s annoying, it’s completely inaccurate to his canon personality and interests, it’s annoying ˣ2, and whether ppl wanna admit it or not—it stems from infantilization. not necessarily ableism, as infantilization is not exclusive to disabled people, but still just about the same thing.

honestly all I see of majority jack headcanons are ones that set him back to just being a child or otherwise being treated like one. for example, the one about him being able to shapeshift is pretty cool...until it just becomes about him deciding to age regress, yknow, to an age set he canonically chose not to go through, showed no desire to be in, and is more offended than anything to be considered as such. all of his interests have to be some shit like bluey or animal crossing, and he drinks apple juice from a sippy cup instead of beer. BARF.

I’ve lessened on my keyboard warring over babyjack in the past year but I have not lessened in being a hater. and I’ve said this before, but the baby-jack au already breached headcanon containment a long time ago when it’s not only so widespread that ppl take it for canon and it makes having any intelligent conversation about him nearly fucking Impossible, but it also lead to harassment and accusations of being a fucking predator, to anyone who dared find a whole grown man attractive. any potential jack ship, like jackharper? automatic grooming case to them. it’s like the fandom is just so dead set on this idea that jack really truly is a child in every aspect you can think of, and for what? if it’s just a headcanon, something you know is not part of the actual show, then don’t go Travis the Chimp levels of apeshit when you see him being treated like he is canonically 💀

unpopular opinion numero 3 which is slightly connected to 2:

✯ baby-jack and a handful of the domestic au’s are BORING (see disclaimer again ⇧), not just on a surface level to my suiting, but also because I feel like it just ..misses the point of the show?

the ragtag untraditional found family is now as nuclear and traditional as the Atomic Age. Dean and Cas are the most heteronormative “who wears the pants in the relationship” gay couple ever, Sam is demoted to the uncle that gets written out of his own family, Jack is just there to make his gay dads look cute and emphasize that they’re a gay family (while still being very heteronormative), and at least 5 of them could be found in a California gated community. everything that made any of them unique or defined their personalities is just scrubbed off, even for an AU.

so much of the later seasons focus on Sam and Dean realizing that they don’t have to make a hard splitting decision between the lives they want to live; that they can find a balance; be happy and have good things—namely families—without giving up hunting (and vice versa, that they can have hunting without giving up on family or happiness). everybody loves the gay hunters from S10(?12?) and what they represented for Dean, but I almost never see that be put into practice in the fandom.

THEY’RE ALREADY DOMESTIC!!! AND WITH THAT PERFECT BALANCE!!!! Season 13 quite literally gave Team Free Will a surrogate son to raise and established them as a family; highly untraditional, largely dysfunctional, overall not fitting of a family family, and yet they are a family still. Dean wears an apron and cooks and bakes for everyone; he built himself a man cave and established two separate family night events that they all ritually keep up; Sam has a morning jogging routine and visits his girlfriend every so often; Jack was taught how to drive, has normal chores like washing dishes, and gets groceries. And they didn’t just have that while fighting monsters—they had that while fighting a whole fucking archangel. Even if it did go down the gutter by the end, they still had it: domestic familial bliss and violent messy hunting without having to trade one for the other.

✯ I truly genuinely think Jack’s relationship with Dean is the best, most interesting and most misunderstood out of the three, and I also think that the problems with his relationship to Cas and Sam are hugely overlooked by the fandom—granted they are very small, especially if you’re comparing it to Dean, but they’re still there and I think we should bully Cas and Sam about it more. I shan’t elaborate because it’s 5AM and this was an impulsive add-on ❤️

✯ getting normal now…his plaid pattern jacket from the first half of Ouroboros is ugly as SHIT i have never liked it and don’t think I ever will. but I cannot deny it; he got that shit on.

✯ most unpopular opinion of all, I wanna do insane shit to his cervix 🙌

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Point Of No Return

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

Dean packs away his belongings in a box, including his leather jacket, his keys, his gun, and a letter. It had been a couple of days since Dean broke up with (y/n) and turned his back on this mission. He just had about enough of this crap.

He marks the box for Robert Singer after he tapes it shut. Dean walks up to the dresser in front of mirror and pours himself a drink and raising the glass to his lips. "Sending someone a candy-gram?" Sam asked, causing Dean to pause before he could take a sip.

Dean turn to look at him, shocked. "How'd you find me?" He asked. "You're going to kill yourself, right?" Sam asked, trying not to sound bitter. "Is that why you broke (y/n)'s heart and left her behind?" Sam asked, trying to hold back anger. "I'm not going to kill myself." Dean said. "No? So Michael's not about to make you his Muppet?" Sam asked and Dean shakes his head and took a swig of his drink.

"What the hell, man? This is how it ends? You just...walk out?" Sam asked. "Yeah, I guess." Dean muttered, pouring himself another drink. "How could you do that?" Sam asked. "How could I?" Dean asked, slamming the bottle of alcohol back on the dresser as he stares at his brother sharply. "All you've ever done is run away." He spat at his younger brother.

"And I was wrong. Every single time I did!" Sam exclaimed, Dean stares back. "Just...please. Not now. Bobby is working on something." Sam pleads. "Oh, really? What?" Dean asked, moving back over to the bed but Sam doesn't respond.

"You got nothing and you know it." Dean said, he scoffs and takes a sip of his drink. "You know I have to stop you." Sam muttered. Dean sniffs and sets his glass on the box, not finishing it. "Yeah, well, you can try. Just remember: You're not all hopped up on demon blood this time." He said.

"Yeah, I know. But I brought help." Sam said. Dean turns around to find Castiel standing behind him. Before he could react, Castiel touches his fingers to Dean's forehead, knocking him out. 

After returning to Bobby's house, Sam and Bobby were reading through books. Castiel leans against the doorway the leads into the kitchen, watching Dean pace like hawk. "Yeah, no, this is good. Really. You know, eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches but tonight, tonight's when the magic happens." Dean said, sarcastically. "You ain't helpin'." Bobby said. "Yeah, well, why don't you let me get out of your hair, then?" Dean asked, Bobby look up from his book to stare at him.

Suddenly, Ariel appears and she stomps over to Dean and slaps him. "What the hell happened to you? Why did you hurt (y/n)?" She asked him, angrily, while Sam, Cas and Bobby look on in shock. Dean shakes his head slightly at this then turns to face Ariel. "Reality happened. Nuclear's the only option we have left. Michael can ice the devil, save a boatload of people." Dean replied. "But not all of them. We gotta think of something else." Ariel said.

"Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down, and I coulda done something about it, guess what? That's on me!" Dean yelled. "So you are just gonna give up and turn on the people who love you?" Ariel said as she gestures to Bobby, Sam and Cas. "To the woman who loves you with all of her heart?" She asked. "What I did to (y/n) was to protect her!" Dean yells at Ariel. 

“You call that protection? She never asked you to protect her, you made that decision for her. You hurt her in a way that’s unforgivable and unfair to her. You think it was out of love but in reality it was selfish.” Ariel said and Dean looks at her offended. “Selfish?” He repeated, angrily. “You left her behind in tears not because you didn’t want her getting hurt. You left her because you didn’t want to risk the pain of losing her. YOU didn’t want to get hurt!” Ariel exclaimed and Dean glares at her. “You didn’t respect her or believe she was capable enough to fight along side us.” Ariel yelled as she steps closer to him. “You don’t know a damn thing!” Dean shouted. 

“I know that you’re being a selfish coward!” Ariel shouted back, her eyes glowing blue as her shadowy wings appeared, spreading out to make herself appear larger and more threatening. Dean, cautiously, steps back as he stares at the angry archangel right in front of him. Sam and Bobby look at the wings in amazement, while Cas steps froward. “Ariel.” He said, warningly. 

Ariel closes her eyes and calms down, her wings disappearing. When she opens her eyes, they're back to her vessel’s normal blue eyes. “And now you’re giving up. I used to respect that you were so resilient…but I can see now that I was wrong.” Ariel spat at him and Dean glares at her then turns his head away from her.

"Well, Ariel's right. You can't give up, son." Bobby said. Dean scoffs, shaking his head as he looks towards the floor. "You're not my father." He said, raising his head to look at Bobby, who stares back at him heartbroken. "And you ain't in my shoes." Dean said.

Bobby looks down, Sam turns to glare at Dean. When Dean looks over at Sam, Sam shakes his head at him. Bobby pulls out a gun out of his desk and sets it on the table. He takes a bullet out of his pocket and looks at it. "What is that?" Dean asked.

"That's the round that I mean to put through my skull." Bobby replied, setting the bullet down on his desk in front of him. "Every morning, I look at it. I think, Maybe today's the day I flip the lights out. But I don't do it. I never do it. You know why? BECAUSE I PROMISED YOU I WOULDN'T GIVE UP!" Bobby yells, angrily. Dean and Bobby stare at each other, no one saying anything. Then suddenly Castiel and Ariel grasp their heads and hunch over in pain. "Guys, you okay?" Sam asked, worried. "No." Castiel and Ariel replied, gasping.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked. "Something's happening." Ariel groans. "Where?" Dean asked. The two angels disappear and caused a gust of wind to throw papers around the room. 

Later, Sam and Dean went into the kitchen and Sam looks over at his older brother. "You know...when (y/n) called me to tell me what you did. She barely could get her words out. I asked where she was and she was able to get that out and Cas got me to her." Sam said and Dean clenches his jaw at this.

"Sam..." he mutters, exasperated. "No, Dean, quit making excuses! I know you thought what you did was right but Ariel’s right, what you did was selfish!" Sam said. “Not you too.” Dean grumbled, looking up at the ceiling tired. “Did you even know what you did? You took away her choices and pick what you think is best for her. That’s controlling and possessive.” Sam said.

“Oh it is?” Dean asked. “Yes it is! (Y/n) is a person not a piece of property. She has needs and as her boyfriend it’s your job to respect them and try to fulfill them.” Sam said. “What, you’re some relationship expert now, huh? No offense but I don’t really want advice from the guy who’s had every relationship with a woman end poorly.” Dean said and Sam glares back at him when another gust of wind blows papers around and Castiel and Ariel appear with a body.

"Help." Cas said and the two angels lay the body down on the cot right as Sam and Dean ran in from the kitchen. They look at the body and freeze when they saw it was Adam.

Bobby wheels himself over to the cot to look at him. "Who is it?" He asked. "That's our brother." Sam replied. "Wait a minute. Your brother? Adam?" Bobby asked, astounded. "Guys, what the hell?" Dean asked, turning to the angels who place two angel blades on the desk. "Angels." Ariel said.

"Angels? Why?" Sam asked. "I know one thing for sure. We need to hide him now." Castiel said, walking over to Adam and placing his hand to his chest. He brands the Enochian symbols on Adam's ribs to hide him from angels. This also cause Adam to wake up from the pain and sit up startled looking around.

"Where am I?" He asked. "It's okay. Just relax, you're safe." Sam assured him. "Who the hell are you?" Adam asked. "You're going to find this a little...a lot crazy, but we're actually your brothers." Dean said and Adam gives him a look of disbelief. "It's the truth. John Winchester was our father, too. See, I'm Sam..." Sam started to say, but Adam talked over him. "Yeah, and I'm sure that's Dean. I know who you are." Adam said then he looks around, as if he was looking for someone.

"Isn't there supposed to be a girl with you?" He asked and Dean turns his head away, upset. "She's not here right now. But...how do you know who we are?" Sam asked after everyone gave Adam a look of astonishment. "They warned me about you." Adam said. "Who did?" Dean asked. "The angels. Now where the hell is Zachariah?!" Adam asked.

After letting Adam clean himself up, they all sat down to figure out what's going on. "So why don't you just tell us everything? Start from the beginning." Dean said. "Well, I was dead and in Heaven. 'Cept it...it uh, kinda looked like my prom and I was making out with this girl, her name was Kristin McGee..." Adam explained, smiling a little. "Yeah, that sounds like heaven. Did you get to third base?" Dean asked. Sam clears his throat, shooting Dean a look. "Just uh, just keep going." Sam said to Adam.

"Well, these...these angels, they popped out of nowhere, and they tell me that I-I'm chosen." Adam said. "For what?" Sam asked. "To save the world." Adam replied. "How you gonna do that?" Dean asked. "Oh, me and some archangel are going to kill the devil." Adam said, nonchalantly.

"What archangel?" Dean asked, confused. "Michael. I'm his uh, sword or vessel or something, I don't know." Adam said and Dean scoffs. "Well, that's insane." He said. "Not necessarily." Ariel said. "How do you mean?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at the angel. "It sounds like they're moving on from you, Dean." Ariel said.

"Well that doesn't make sense." Dean said. "He is John Winchester's bloodline, Sam's brother. It's not perfect, but it's possible." Castiel explained. "Well you gotta be kidding me." Dean grumbled. "Why would they do this?" Sam asked. "They're desperate. They wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them." Ariel said as she gives Dean a hard look.

"Alright, you know what? Blow me, Ariel." Dean growled. Castiel stares back, confused, while Ariel looks at him in, shock horror. "Excuse me?!" She exclaims but Sam speaks up, trying to avoid another fight. "Look, no way. After everything that's happened? All that crap about destiny? Suddenly the angels have a Plan B? Does that smell right to anybody?" Sam asked.

"You know this has been a really moving family reunion, but uh, I got a thing, so..." Adam said, standing up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, no. Sit down. Just listen, okay? Please." Sam pleaded, stopping him. Adam stares at him and shakes his head then sits back down. "It's unbelievable." He muttered. "Now, Adam...the angels are lying to you. They're full of crap." Sam said. "Yeah, I don't think so." Adam said. 

"Really. Why not?" Sam asked. "Um, 'cause they're angels." Adam replied. "They tell you they were gonna roast half the planet?" Sam asked. "They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it is the devil, right? So we got to stop him." Adam said.

"Yeah, but there's another way." Sam said. "Great. What is it?" Adam asked. "We're working on the power of love." Dean said and Sam glares at him. "How's that going?" Adam asked. "Mmm. Not good." Dean said, smiling.

"Look, Adam...You don't know me from a hole in the wall, I know. But I'm begging you. Please, just trust me. Give me some time." Sam said. "Give me one good reason." Adam said. Sam thinks for a moment. "Because we're blood." He said and Adam glares at him. "You've got no right to say that to me." He spat, making Sam look at him confused.

"You're still John's boy." Bobby reminded him. "No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad. So we may be blood, but we are not family. My mom is my family. And if I do my job, I get to see her again. So no offense, but she's the one I give a rat's ass about, not you." Adam explained. "Fair enough. But if you have one good memory of dad, just one, then you'll give us a little more time. Please." Sam pleaded.

That night, Sam enters the kitchen and catches Adam trying to sneak out. "Going somewhere?" Sam asked. Adam stops making a frustrated gesture and turn around to face him. "Out for a...beer." He said, pointing to the door, and Sam claps his hands. "Great. We got beer. Have a seat." Sam said, going to the fridge. "Great." Adam grumbled, walking over to the table and taking a seat.

"You know, you pitched this whole dewy-eyed bromance thing, but the truth is, I'm on lockdown, aren't I?" He asked. "Adam, you may not believe it, but dad was trying to protect you. Keeping you from all of this." Sam said, as he walks over to the table, setting two beers in front of him and Adam then taking a seat next across from Adam.

"Yeah well, I guess the monster that ate me didn't get that memo." Adam said. "You remember that?" Sam asked. "Oh yeah." Adam replied. "Still, trust me. The one thing worse than seeing dad once a year was seeing him all year." Sam said.

"Do you know how full of crap you are?" Adam asked and Sam gives him a stunned look. "What?" He asked. "Really. You see, it was me and it was my mom. That's it. She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. I cooked my own dinners. I put myself to bed. So you can say whatever you want about our dad, but the truth is, I would have taken anything." Adam explained and Sam nods his head a little. 

"Alright?" Adam asked. "Look, if we had known we had a brother..." Sam started to say. "Well, you didn't, so..." Adam spat. "We would have found you." Sam said. Adam scoffs and shakes his head. "Look, I can't change the past. I wish I could. But from here on out..." Sam said. "What? We gonna hop in the family truckster? Pop on down to Wally World?" Adam said, sarcastically, and Sam chuckles, lightly, at this. "Tell you one thing, with an attitude like that, you would have fit right in around here." Sam said.

In the basement, Dean was locked up in the panic room. He paces around, annoyed, when the door opens and Castiel and Ariel walk in. Dean turns around just as Ariel steps aside to reveal (y/n) standing behind her.

Suddenly, Dean felt his heart break as he sees her. Her eyes still looked a bit red and she had her arms folded across her chest, glaring at Dean. "Why don't you guys go help Sam to keep an eye on Adam? Dean and I need to talk." (Y/n) said, her voice sounding hoarse.

"You sure?" Ariel asked her and (y/n) nods and the two angels leave, shutting the door behind them. The duo stare at each other for a moment before Dean decides to try and lighten the mood as the air was thick with tension. "Well, (y/n), not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that...I got laid." He said as he points at her glaring face.

(y/n) scoffs at this but Dean could've sworn he heard a bit of amusement and laugh as she did this. Almost like she was hiding her laughter. Dean frowns slightly as (y/n) paces back and forth.

"Look, I know you're pissed..." Dean said and she scoffs again. "Understatement of the freakin' century." (Y/n) said, in harsh sarcasm. "But this..." Dean said, gesturing to the panic room. "Isn't really necessary." He finished. "Well, we got our hands full, Dean...A house full of flight risks from what Sam told me." (y/n) said. "I'm not letting him do it." Dean said. "Who, Adam? No, I'm...I'm not, either. And neither is Sam." (y/n) said. "No, you're not getting me." Dean said, turning away.

"Oh, no, no, I get you perfectly. But I'm not letting you do it, either." (Y/n) said, in a harsh voice. Dean sighs then takes a seat on a table in the room. "That kid's not taking a bullet for me." He said. "Dean..." (y/n) said, exasperated. "I'm serious. I mean, think about how many people we've gotten killed, (y/n). Mom, Dad, your Mom and Dad, Jess, Jo, Ellen. Should I keep going?" Dean asked her. "It's not like we pulled the trigger." (Y/n) argued.

"We might as well have. I'm tired, (y/n). I'm tired of fighting who I'm supposed to be." Dean said. "Well, do you think maybe you could take a half a second and stop trying to sacrifice yourself for a change? Maybe we could actually stick together?" (Y/n) yells at him, angrily. "I don't think so." Dean mutters, sadly. "Why not? Dean, seriously. Tell me. I-I want to know." (y/n) said and Dean sits there, staring at her then turns his head away from her. "Don't you dare shut down on me! Talk to me, please!" (Y/n) pleaded.

"I just...I-I don't believe." Dean said. "In what?" (y/n) asked. Dean looks at (y/n), brokenly. "In Sam." He said. (Y/n) turns her head away, not wanting to hear that. "I mean, I don't. I don't know whether it's gonna be demon blood or some other demon chick or what, but...I do know they're gonna find a way to turn him." Dean said. "So you're saying Sam's not strong enough." (y/n) said, questionably. "He's angry, he's self-righteous. Lucifer's gonna wear him to the prom, (y/n). It's just a matter of time." Dean said.

(Y/n) shakes her head at this. "Don't say that. Not you...of all people. I mean, this is your own brother!" (Y/n) said, tearfully. "I don't want to. But it's the truth. And when Satan takes him over, there's got to be somebody there to fight him, and it ain't gonna be that kid. So, it's got to be me." Dean said.

"Dean, c'mon..." (y/n) said. "Well, what else you want me to say, (y/n)!" Dean shouts at her. “I want you to say you’re not going to leave!” (Y/n) shouted back and Dean stares at her. “The Dean I know would never agree to heaven’s plans. Never agree to be possessed by some dick archangel and fight Sam to the death.” (Y/n) said, getting angry.

Dean stares at her for a moment, then looks down. “I guess that Dean is long gone.” He mutters. (Y/n) looks at him, her eyes watering up a little. “I miss him.” She whispered and Dean nods, continuing to look at the ground.

That night, Adam was laying on the cot, asleep, and Castiel and Ariel watch him closely while Bobby and Sam sit in the living room area. At that point, they hear the basement door open and they turn their heads to see (y/n) coming in. "How's he doing?" Bobby asked and (y/n) shrugs and scoffs.

"How you doing?" Sam asked her and she nods slightly. Castiel and Ariel turn and walk to the basement door, heading downstairs. "I could be better." She sighs and takes a seat next to Sam. "Did he say anything? Like why he's suddenly changing his mind on this?" Sam asked her and she gives him a sympathetic look.

"He did but...I don't think you're gonna like what he said." She said and Sam's face turns serious. "What did he say?" He asked and (y/n) swallows before she goes to say what Dean said.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Ariel make their way down stairs when they heard a crash and the duo go to the panic room door. "Dean?" Cas calls out but no answer then they enter the room. "Dean?" Ariel calls out. "Cas. Ariel." Dean said as he stands by a cabinet with an angel banishing sigil drawn on the inside of it.

He presses his hand to it, sending Castiel and Ariel away  screaming, then Dean escapes.

*(y/n)'s POV*

Sam and I went down to the basement to check on Dean, Castiel and Ariel only to discover the panic room was open and a angel banishing sigil was painted on the locker door. We ran back upstairs to the library, grabbing our jackets.

"Where's Cas and Ariel?" Bobby asked. "Blown to Oz." Sam replied. "Look, we'll get Dean. He couldn't have gone too far. Just watch Adam." I said. "How? You may have noticed, he's got a slight height advantage." Bobby said. "Then cuff him to your chair. I don't know. Just watch him." I said and we leave to look for Dean.

Unfortunately, we were unable to find him, so we return to Bobby's where he told us Adam was gone. "Bobby, what do you mean, Adam is gone?" Sam asked him. "Should I say it in Spanish?" Bobby asked, sarcastically. "He's gone how? What the hell, Bobby?!" I asked, spreading my arms out in frustration. "Watch your tone, girl. He was right in front of me, and he disappeared into thin air." Bobby said.

There was a gust of wind follow by the sound of flapping wings and Castiel and Ariel appear carrying a bloody and battered Dean between them as paper falls down around them. "Because the angels took him." Castiel said.

"Oh God, what the hell happened to him?" I asked as I run to Dean and cup his face. Despite that he broke my heart, I do still care about him. "Us." Ariel replied as she gestures between her and Cas.

"What do you mean, the angels took Adam? You branded his ribs, didn't you?" Bobby asked as he looks over at Cas. "Yes. Adam must have tipped them." Castiel said. "How?" Bobby asked. "I don't know. Maybe in a dream." Castiel said. "Well, where would they have taken him?" Sam asked.

We take Dean back down to the panic room where we handcuffe him to a cot. Sam and I sit down and wait for Dean to wake. When he did, he jerk on the handcuff discovering his situation and turn his head to see us.

"How you feeling?" Sam asked as Dean sits up on the cot. "Word to the wise: don't piss off the nerd angels. So how's it going?" Dean asked. "Adam's gone. The angels have him." Sam said. "Where?" Dean asked.

"The room where they took us." I replied, remembering Zachariah kidnapping me and placing me in that room just because I was looking for Sam. "You sure?" Dean asked. "Cas did a re-con." I said. "And?" Dean asked. "And the place is crawling with mooks...Pretty much a no-shot-in-hell, hail-Mary kind of thing." Sam said. "Ah, so the usual. What are you guys going to do?" Dean asked.

"For starters...we're bringing you with." Sam said, getting up and walking over to Dean. "Excuse me?" Dean asked, confused. "There are too many of them. We can't do it alone. And uh, you're pretty much the only game in town." I said, unlocking Dean's handcuffs and releasing him. I walk back over to Sam and toss the key on the desk. "Isn't that a bad idea?" Dean asked. 

"Cas, Ariel and Bobby think so. We're not so sure." Sam said, nodding between me and him. "Well, they're right. Because either it's a trap to get me there to make me say yes, or it's not a trap and I'm gonna say yes anyway. And I will. I'll do it. Fair warning." Dean said. "No, you won't. When push shoves, you'll make the right call." Sam said. "You know, if tables were turned...I'd let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here." Dean said.

"Yeah, well...I guess I'm not that smart." Sam said. "I-I don't get it. Guys, why are you doing this?" Dean asked us, confused. "Because...you're still my big brother." Sam replied. Dean stared at him stunned, then looks over at me. "Even though, you can be an ass sometimes, I still care about you." I said, bitterly, as I fold my arms and Dean gives me a look that I could see is full regret then he looks down.

Cas and Ariel palce us outside to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. "Where the hell are we?" Dean asked. "Van Nuys, California." Castiel asked. "Where's the beautiful room?" I asked. "In there." Castiel said as he nods to the warehouse. "The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?" Dean asked. "Where'd you think it was?" Castiel asked. "I-I don't know. Jupiter? A blade of grass? Not Van Nuys." Dean said. "I thought it was some dining room in Heaven." I said and Ariel chuckles and shakes her head.

"Tell me again why you two don't just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there." Sam said to Castiel. "Because there are at least five angels in there." Ariel replied. "So? You guys are fast." I said. "They're faster." Castiel said, undoing his tie to take it off and wrap it around his palm. "Ariel and I'll clear them out. You three grab the boy. This is our only chance." He said as he and Ariel turn towards the door of the warehouse.

"Whoa, wait. You two gonna take on five angels?" Dean asked. "Yes." Castiel and Ariel replied. "Isn't that suicide?" Dean asked. "Maybe it is. But then I won't have to watch you fail. I'm sorry, Dean. I don't have the same faith in you that Sam and (y/n) does." Castiel said and a tinge of regret passes over Dean's face. "I used to but....I'm not so sure now." Ariel said as Castiel pulls a box cutter out of his trench-coat pocket.

"What the hell are you gonna do with that?" I asked him and Castiel hands Ariel the box cutter. The two share a look before Cas nods at her and she uses the box cutter to carve an angel-banishing sigil into his chest. Then the two go inside the warehouse.

We waited outside until we heard the sound of angels being banished, which was a pretty good sign that we can go in now. Dean went on in ahead and after a while Sam and I enter the warehouse.

On our way to the box in the center of warehouse, we found saw one slain angel on a floor and an angel blade with blood on it. I pick up the blade and we enter the room, seeing Dean holding Adam up with Zachariah in front of them.

"Dean, please. Did you really think it would be that easy?" Zachariah asked. "Did you?" Dean asked. Sam and I came at Zachariah from behind with our angel blades. But Zachariah knock out blades out of our hands and sent us flying across the room, crashing into a divider.

"Sam! (Y/n)!" Dean yelled. "You know what I've learned from this experience, Dean? Patience." Zachariah said. He waves his hand and Adam falls to the floor, coughing up blood. "Adam?" Dean said, concerned, then he turns to Zachariah. "Let him go, you son of a bitch." Dean growled. 

"I mean, I thought I was downsized for sure. And for us, a firing...pretty damn literal. But I should have trusted the boss man. It's all playing out like he said...You, me, your hemorrhaging brothers." Zachariah said. He turns his fist in our direction, causing Sam to cough up blood like Adam. 

"Sam?" I said, worried, as I place my hands on his shoulders. "You're finally ready, right?" Zachariah asked. Dean looks from Zachariah to Sam and I, then to Adam who was lying on the floor, still coughing up blood. "Okay then..."Zachariah said then his raises his left hand out and, suddenly, it was like his hand was a magnet and I was a piece of metal as I fly towards him and Zachariah grabs my neck.

Then he proceeds to squeeze my neck, making me gasp for air. "No! Let her go! Leave her alone!" Dean yells, fearfully. "You know there's no other choice. There's never been a choice." Zachariah said. "Stop it. Stop it right now!" Dean said, tearfully. "In exchange for what?" Zachariah asked as he squeezes my neck tighter and at this point I was gasping for air while Sam and Adam continue to cough up blood.

"Damn it, Zachariah. Stop it, please. I'll do it." Dean said and Zachariah loosens his grip on my neck and I was able to breath a bit better. "I'm sorry. What was that?" Zachariah asked, holding his right hand up to his ear. "Dean...don't..." I gasped out in a raspy voice.

"Okay, yes. The answer is yes." Dean said. "Dean." Sam said, painful. "Please...don't." I said but Dean continues. "Do you hear me? Call Michael down, you bastard!" Dean exclaimed and Zachariah lowers me down as he continues to stare at Dean, shocked.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Zachariah asked him. "Do I look like I'm lying?" Dean asked. Zachariah stares at him for a moment then tosses me aside and I fall on my side then cough and gasp for air. "(Y/n)..." I hear Sam said as he crawls over to me and gives me a look that asks ​Are you okay? I nod to him as I cough again and Zachariah turns and speaks in Enochian, summoning the archangel Michael. "Zodiredo...noco...aberamage...nazodpesade..." 

Sam and I give Dean, a questioning look while Dean looks at us, brokenly. "He's coming." Zachariah said, smiling. At that moment, Dean then smirks and winks at us and I furrow my brow, in confusion, at him. The room started shaking, causing the chandelier to chime.

"Of course, I have a few conditions." Dean said and Zachariah turn to look at him. "What?" He asked, confused. "The few people whose safety you have to guarantee before I say yes." Dean said. "Sure, fine. Make a list." Zachariah said. "But most of all...Michael can't have me until he disintegrates you." Dean said.

"What did you say?" Zachariah asked. "I said...before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass...he has to turn you into a piece of charcoal." Dean said and Zachariah laughs. "You really think Michael's gonna go for that?" He asked.

"Who's more important to him now? You...or me?" Dean asked then Zachariah lunges at Dean, grabbing him by the front of his jacket. "You listen to me. You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm's ass. Do you know who I am...after I deliver you to Michael?" He asked. "Expendable." Dean replied, smugly. "Michael's not gonna kill me." Zachariah said, grinning. "Maybe not. But I am." Dean said then he stabs an angel blade, which he must've had hidden in his sleeve, into Zachariah's head through his chin.

Zachariah explodes into a bright light causing Dean to fall to the ground and then Zachariah lays on the ground, dead, with his wings burned onto the floor and wall.

White light and the ear-piercing noise that was getting louder indicated to us that Michael was coming. "Can you walk?" Dean asked Adam, helping him up. "Yeah." Adam replied. "Okay, come on." Dean said, running over to Sam and I. Dean helped us up and guided us to the door.

"Come on, move it!" Dean said to Adam, as we exit the room. The door slams shut behind us, leaving Adam locked inside. "NO! DEAN! HELP! IT WON'T OPEN!" Adam shouts and Dean leaves me and Sam on the ground and attempts to open the door from the outside but he is burned when he touches the knob.

"DEAN, HELP! DEAN!" Adam continued screaming. "Hold on! We'll get you out. Just hold on. Adam! Can you hear me?!" Dean asked but Adam doesn't respond. A bright white light illuminates from inside the room then it fades.

Dean test the doorknob then opens the door to find it an abandoned office. "Adam?" He called out, but he was gone. Dean looks around then looks over at Sam and I, lost for words.

Later, we steal a truck and were driving down a road at night. Dean was driving naturally, while Sam was in the passenger seat and I was stuck sitting in the middle between them. "You think Adam's okay?" Sam asked while I rubbed my neck. "Doubt it. Cas and Ariel either. But we'll get 'em." Dean said.

"So." I said, my voice still sounding a bit hoarse. "'So' what?" Dean asked. "I saw your eyes. You were totally rockin' the yes back there. So, what changed your mind?" I asked. "Honestly? The damnedest thing. I mean, the world's ending. The walls are coming down on us, and I look over to you two and all I can think about is, these stupid son of bitches brought me here. I just didn't want to let either of you down." Dean said and I scoff, lightly. 

"You almost did. But you didn't." Sam said, holding up his index finger. "Who are you calling stupid?" I asked and I see the corner of his lips twitch up. "I owe you guys an apology." Dean said. "No, man. No, you don't." Sam said.

"Just...let me say this. I don't know if it's being a big brother or what, but to me, you've always been this snot-nosed kid that I've had to keep on the straight and narrow. That goes for you as well, princess. I think we all know that that's not either of you anymore. I mean, hell, if you two are grown-up enough to find faith in me...the least I can do is return the favor. So screw destiny, right in the face. I say we take the fight to them, and do it our way." Dean said, firmly.

Sam and I smile confidently at Dean. "Sounds good." Sam said. "I'm always down to kick some ass." I said. Dean glances over at us and smirks.

Later, we made a stop to one of my safehouses, not the one Dean abandoned me at, and decided to rest there. But while the boys were asleep in the spare rooms, I was sitting out on the porch on the swing. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come out here and just look out at the beautiful view in front of me.

Just a large valley of green grass and some hills off in the distance, the inky starry night blankets the sky and the gentle cool breeze blowing through the air. I smile and take a sip of my bottle water when I hear footsteps and the door open.

I look over and see it was Dean. The two of us stare at each, an awkward silence loomed over us. "Hey..." he greets, softly. "Hey.." I said back, my voice sounding back to normal. "How's, uh...How's your neck?" Dean asked me and I rub it. "Well, besides having this handprint shaped mark on my neck for awhile, it's alright." I said and Dean nods.

"Which means I'm probably gonna have to wear a turtle neck sweatshirt to cover it up. And that sucks, I hate turtlenecks, they make my neck look fat." I said and Dean chuckles a bit. I smile alittle before I let out a sigh. Then Dean walks up to me and gestures to the spot on the swing next to me. "Is it okay, if I sit here?" He asked me. I nodded and he takes the spot and both of us sit there in silence for a moment, the awkward silence still looming over us.

"So..." He said.

"So..." I said, awkwardly, and we sit there for a moment then Dean sighs. "(Y/n), I am so, so, sorry for what I did..." he said and I close my eyes, hoping that'll keep any upcoming tears flowing, as I continue to listen to him. "It was a dick thing to do to you but I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to protect you and keep you away from the chaos that was going to happen." He said and I nod, slightly.

"But Ariel was right. I was being selfish and I took that choice away from you and I should've talked to you about it. I was being an idiot and a coward." He said and I open my eyes and turn to him. "You said it not me." I said, smiling a little, as he rolls his eyes at this. But he looks over at me and noticed me smiling and he gives a small smile before it fades.

"I-I know you put up alot with me and with everything going on, but I do want to say I am truly sorry about everything. And...if..." he stops and sighs, sounding like he was nervous on to say his next words. "I'd understand if you didn't want to be with me or around me again...so...if you want to leave, you can. I won't stop you." He said and I frown a bit at him as I notice his eyes were filling with tears.

"Dean..." I croaked then I felt tears building up in my eyes. I close them again and take in a deep breath then let it out, slowly, then I open my eyes again. "I'm not abandoning you. Like I said, I'm ready to kick this in the ass and help you boys any way that I can. But...us...I mean..." I said as I gesture between me and him. "What you did really hurt me and I was scared, confused, hurt and angry. I felt like the world had already collapsed." I explained and he nods, slightly, as some tears roll down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, tearfully. "I know you are, Dean. And I do appreciate your apology. But..." I said and I could see the look of fear on his face. "I-I need time to think about us. I think...for now at least...we need a break. So, I'll still be by your side its just...I'm gonna be getting my own room for awhile now." I said and he nods again. "Okay..." he whispered.

*3rd Person POV*

"I'm gonna go to bed." (Y/n) said and Dean nods. "Okay, I'll be in here in a minute." Dean said and (y/n) gives him a look before she nods and heads inside. Now all alone, Dean wipes away the tears then hunches over, places his hands over his head and let's out a heavy, shaky sigh.

"You stupid son of a bitch." He mutters to himself, berating himself. "You really screwed up now." Dean mutters and he runs his hands over his head back and forth. Then he sits up and looks out at nature view he has as fresh tears runs down his face. He wipes them away and huffs out a breath.

[pray4jensen]

i wish jensen would stop changing his opinion on the finale every time he’s in front of a new audience. Today he said that there was nothing he would change, he could only sing it’s praises. And I’d like to blame Jared but Jared didn’t have any input. I just don’t feel like I can ever trust jensen not to appeal to any given audience 🫤

i don't think jensen really has a choice. it's his job and he can only talk about his opinions so long as it doesn't majorly offend anyone. and he'll only be in a job as long as he keeps things in balance.

it sucks, truly, but there are consequences for speaking up, especially in his position. he also wants to keep going with the spn universe. he has big plans, and he won't get to carry them out if he alienates a good portion of the show's fanbase. something that makes spn so attractive as a business is that it's kept a dedicated base of fans who are willing to spend a lot of money. spn has never been the most popular show, but its fans are dedicated in ways that most shows can only dream of. more fans are willing to watch the winchesters, for example, than jared's walker. because all jared's done post-finale is alienate the dean fans, and the cas fans, and the destiel fans. jensen, for the most part, has done none of that.

people are ambivalent about jensen whereas misha and jared have fans that are really black and white about their passion for them, and that's because jared and misha are really outspoken. jensen's always so careful with his words and the fact that he hasn't exactly shown a neutral face post-finale speaks a lot more about what his real thoughts and feelings are, rather than when he answers con questions where the audience is often very particular in the way they think/feel about the finale.

when he talks about the finale, he's very careful. he said it made good television. and objectively, that's true. look at how hysterical it was for all parties involved. it riled up everybody. people are still talking about it. that's actually quite a feat. and that's usually what the companies behind producing these series think is good television. that's what's going to convince these companies to go for another spin-off or reboot or movie.

he said dean wouldn't have been able to go on if sam died. also objectively true. because cas was also dead. it would've looked bleak as hell for dean.

jensen at the end of the day never lies tbh. but sometimes he withholds certain truths. like how he doesn't mention cas' absence in a room full of fans who probably hate cas anyway. the fact that he doesn't mention cas doesn't mean that he doesn't think cas' death wouldn't have affected dean too. it doesn't mean that jensen doesn't think it wouldn't have been a major factor for dean's ability to continue if sam died too.

just because it's unsaid doesn't mean it isn't true.

he's always been very honest when asked about what he would've done if cas came back (a hug, a desire to address the confession). and when asked what dean probably would've done if he'd had more time to respond to cas' love confession, he was also very honest (dean would've said i love you too).

so at the end of the day, he's never said directly that he liked the finale and that he was happy about how it ended (that's a very personal opinion to express and that's just inference that certain fans have picked up). but what he has done is make very neutral and very objectively honest statements about it that keep fans dedicated to the show.

he's not changing sides. he's not changing his opinions. he's just being very very careful while telling the truth.

[shallowrambles]

Going anon because this is a sensitive subject in fandom and I don't want to offend anyone.

I'm don't 100% agree but you inspired me to take a closer look at the Blood Brother ep. I've never seen it analyzed like that, and although your words bothered me, I think you had some good points. I don't think the fandom idealization of Benny is as bad as the fandom version of Sam, but your argument that similar forces are at work for both of them is really compelling.

I never really cared about Andrea, but everything you said has given me pause, but I think you might be right and the illusion in The Werther Project is a lot closer to the actual Benny we see on screen.

I love your take on Andrea, and I'm with you that it might've have been cooler and more of an unexpected twist to see her in purgatory instead during season 15! I love your brain!

Happy to give you something to ponder, then! It's sometimes fun to entertain the shadow selves of characters, and I think the treatment of Andrea Kormos toes the line of darkness and nihilism in a way that is often overlooked. :-)

TBF, I think all soldier-coded characters struggle with this. Michael, Dean, Cas, Mary, AU Charlie and others...struggle with this pretty often. It's not unique to his character per se. It's that old soldier-coded derealization. I feel like it's especially strong/most pronounced in the in child-raised soldiers, ones who've been raised/created to fight (Dean, Mary, Cas, Jack, etc).

///

But anyway, I like this angle because it compels me, not because I dislike any of the soldier-coded characters. After all, it's a bit unflattering to be a soldier, fighter, warrior, (cop, hunter, military, angel, etc etc etc) in the first place!

But the idealization of Benny feeds into the strange imho idealization of Purgatory, that "pure" is somehow a positive thing when it's applied to Dean-Cas (it almost-never is in SPN, and I don't think it is here either). I think the whole existence of Purgatory is a nod to the worst selves of the soldiers, that black-and-white mentality and "rigid code" that both Dean and Cas tend to fall into...as well as suicidality and checking out of the complexity of "civilian" life.

When Benny says he doesn't "fit" and he's no good here, he's embodying the soldier who goes back. It's alluded to with, "The guy who got out and then came back. Like an idiot." It's got a name: "The Back There Paradox."

Deployments, and especially combat deployments, were a place where we knew how to use the skills we had developed. What we did was significant...Life could be very simple while deployed; get up, do your job... Sure, it got boring and repetitive, but we knew how to do stuff and we knew where things were. It was familiar."

We see this too with Dark Kaia in season 14-15: " At least over there, I understood things -- the world, my place in it."

What I'm saying is that soldier-coded characters' rigid adherence to "rules" can be just as neurotic as Sam's moral relativism spirals. (Cas is super fascinating because he embodies both tendencies!)

Purgatory represents "unthinking war," where there's 24/7, 360-degree combat. It's the horrific bloodlust that many soldiers are often too ashamed to admit they're addicted to, what is often quoted as: should "stay overseas, unsaid." It's the secret shame veterans won't readily admit to but many understand and know all too well.

Dean even shows signs of this in his fantasy world in AU Michael's bar, with the fame he crows about here (14x10, Nihilism):

DEAN: What you got? PAMELA: (wiping Deans face) Worst part of working here is having to clean up the blood after some pissed-off monster busts in to kill you. DEAN: (smirking) Well, what can I say? I'm famous.

///

"Being exposed to the adrenaline and the fame associated with being a soldier creates a dangerous addiction. Many veterans that deployed to combat come back to the states and chase the high that they felt on the battlefield." x

///

The unusual thing with Dean and Cas, is that they each recognize the nihilistic soldier in each other...ranging at times from joyful nihilism to the suicidal sorrow that's all wrapped up with identity-as-soldier-"weapon" and seeing combat far too often. (THIS is the subtext that attracts so many veterans.)

But the thing that's different for them is that they're crazed to get each other out. Underlined in two separate throughlines in season 8 and 15.

This is a little bit echoed in Alt Mary and Alt John, who also want to get each other out of hunting in SPNwin. That's what attracted Mary to John initially, that he was a soldier with a big heart even though he'd seen The Horrors.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is. I have a soft spot for the soldier who try, have tried, and are trying to get out. Even when they fail, like Benny did.

///

Anyway, soldiers are "loyal dogs." We see Dean referred to as a dog as late as season 15, when Lucifer calls him old "faithful," (like a dog) in one of Chuck's alternate endings. They're also "fish" (out of water). Bait. Bombs. Hammers. Blunt instruments.

They struggle with feeling perpetually dislocated when they're away from combat.

That’s where the, “I’m not sure what’s real” primarily stems from.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I think it would've been funny if Mary was on a solo hunt and met Claire, with her curly blonde hair and big blue eyes and tough attitude and wearing a shirt she stole from dean that dean stole from john, and Mary's like 'oh. interesting. I'm a grandmother. nightmare scenario.' and this is post the bmol reveal so Dean is fully not talking to her and she thinks he didn't tell her he has a daughter because he didn't trust her so she decides to get in Claire's good graces. 1) because her granddaughter seems to have the impulse control of an irritated bull and she definitely shouldn't be hunting alone and 2) she gave Claire a fake last name so she wouldn't figure out their relation so by the time Dean figures out they've met Claire can help sweeten him up so Mary can fix things with him. Claire meanwhile is annoyed that this random woman keeps following her around but she's already resigned to the fact she attracts parental figures like a magnet.

so they're a VERY chaotic hunting team for awhile. Mary also keeps trying to needle out details about Claire's life- she figures she might blow her cover if she asks too much about her father, so she asks a lot about Claire's mother but she's very cagey about the topic. then one day Claire let's Mary use her phone for something and she notices the background is a pic of her and Cas and Claire doesn't wanna get into the whole angel thing with this woman who won't get out of her car so she's like 'oh yeah that's my dad'. and Mary's IMMEDIATELY just like oh God oh fuck I almost got my son in law killed no wonder Dean hates me. she's fully spiralling about her kids not trusting her so much they're hiding an entire family from her. even BEFORE they knew about the brits Dean didn't tell her?? she spends all night on google taking like those dumb 'am I homophobic??' quizzes to see if she said or did anything to make him uncomfortable and she literally goes to a library and prints out articles about how to support your gay child. turns into one of those hardcore gay rights moms over night. Claire just thinks Mary's doing this because she's figured out Claire's a lesbian and she finds it sweet.

Dean eventually starts responding to Mary's texts again and Mary just wants to tell Dean she knows everything so they can Properly make up and move forward but all the parenting books she's been reading insist that she needs to let him come to her with this. she starts dropping hints though, like 'oh I'm working with this hunter named Claire', thinking he'll take the bait and tell her he's Claire's father but he's just like 'tell that criminal she has 32 hours to return my ivory grip gun or else I'm actually filing a police report against her' and Mary's not in any place to critique parenting styles but she's like 😬 and tells Claire who's like 'tell him they'll never take me alive' and Mary ends up in the middle of dumb banter between these two while Claire's driving but neither of them will admit they're father and daughter and it's driving her INSANE. she just wants to be trusted!!

skdhdj Claire has a p.o. box and one day they stopped by and there was a head of a stuffed unicorn in there as a godfather parody, and Claire calls Dean like 'THAT WAS ALEX'S!!' and Mary hears him cursing over the other line and after they hang up she asks who Alex is and Claire's like 'oh my sister' and Mary's like. YOUR WHAT.

then all the shit with the brainwashing and apocalypse world goes down and by the time she's back in the bunker she's SO over waiting she just wants as normal a family dynamic as she can possibly get so she makes a big show of like getting Dean alone and she has a whole apology speech AND a gay rights speech that she had kids from a local lgbt community group proof read and edit for her. and Dean king of the closet is like thanks! but what the Fuck. and people are fully walking into the library now Sam has popcorn and Mary's like listen sweetheart I know I haven't given you a lot of reasons to trust me but at the very least you could have mentioned I'm a grandmother, I mean the resemblance is uncanny- and Dean's like 'shit you met Ben? is he okay?' and she's like. WHO?? WHAT? HOW MANY CHILDREN ARE YOU HIDING. And he's like well Emma's dead ('WHAT') so who else could you POSSIBLY be talking about?? And Mary's like 'Claire!! obviously Claire!!' and Claire, who's on the other side of the room yells 'EW?!' in a put on offended tone and Dean's like 'no she's Cas' brat?!' and Mary's like. 'well she's not a nephilim like Jack! I know you and Cas are together Dean-' and Dean and Cas are like. um. what drew you to that conclusion. pay no attention to the fact we're blushing and now refusing to make eye contact with each other we Swear we are only simply platonic friends we are NOT in a romantic relationship. and then Jack and Claire are both like 'WHAT YOU AREN'T?!?!' and the night is lost to many many confusing confrontations. this post got away from me.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

for day one of @sobernatural ‘s 2k celebration: “you did what?” // acceptance // blue

A month ago, taking Cas and running seemed like a good idea, or, at least, it seemed like the only idea. The other option was to just send Cas out into the world on his own, a freshly grace-less former angel in a hoodie, and Dean couldn’t do that.

(He’d thought about it, for a second, though, so maybe this was his punishment for considering leaving Cas behind. That’s what it would have been, even if Cas had been the one leaving.) 

And maybe it’s still a good idea. It’s just the two of them, picking occasional fights with the rare specter, trying to stay away from the powers searching for Cas, and Dean, calling Sam and trying to keep the peace, watching crappy TV and hitting every diner in the more obscure parts of middle America. 

(He feels like everything is starting to fall around him, but then again, it always has been.)

But all that has stopped. They’re at a standstill, because Cas has gotten some kind of cold or sinus infection. Dean’s not sure, and they can’t really go to the doctor, since Cas is technically a different person, but Dean’s been plying him with tissues, cough medicine, painkillers, and a lot of water for the past three days. He can’t tell if it’s helping.

Dean sits on the edge of the motel bed, sinking the mattress down, the springs old and creaking. Cas cracks his eyes open, revealing a sliver of blue. He needs a shave. 

He needs a shower. 

Hence Dean waking him up.

“I don’t want to,” Cas says, his voice creaky and rough from coughing and disuse. 

“It’ll help you feel better.”

“That’s what you said about the cough medicine.”

“Well, I didn’t say it was magical. I just said it would help.” Dean offers a hand to Cas. “C’mon.”

Cas didn’t really come with pajamas (it occurs to Dean that maybe they could go shopping, now that Cas wears different clothes every day), so he’s been wearing random sweats and an old undershirt that Dean dug out of his closet. Cas shoves the covers back feebly, and Dean thinks that maybe he should find something clean in his duffel for Cas while he’s in the shower. 

Cas bats Dean’s hand away and fumbles his way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. A minute later, Dean hears the water start, and he grabs his key (this motel is old-school and still uses physical keys, not cards), heading to the front desk to request new sheets and raid the vending machine for cold water again. 

When Dean gets back, the water’s still running, but it’s ‘been less than fifteen minutes, so he thinks nothing of it.

Five more minutes pass.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Cas is gonna be upset if Dean checks on him, Dean knows that, can tell that Cas doesn’t like being human but won’t say it. It wouldn’t offend Dean, being all fragile and breakable is the worst.

(Last week, before Cas got sick, Dean had to teach him how to reset a broken nose. It wasn’t fun.) 

But he has a feeling that the water’s gone cold, which means Cas isn’t in the shower because he wants to be.

Dean hesitates for a moment at the bathroom door before pounding on it. “Cas? You okay?”

No answer.

“Cas?”

Silence.

“I’m coming in, dude.” Dean eases open the door to find, as he suspected, Cas huddled in the corner of the shower stall and the water still running. 

“I couldn’t get up,” Cas finally says, voice barely audible over the shower’s spray, and Dean wonders if maybe Cas did answer him a minute ago but he couldn’t hear it. 

“Let me help you, then.”

“You don’t need to help me.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dean opens the shower stall and turns the water off before offering Cas a hand. He tries not to look (but also not-not to look) as he pulls Cas up to standing. 

Cas pushes past him feebly, and Dean calls after him, “There’s clean clothes on your bed.”

He waits about five minutes for Cas to be clothed again before exiting the bathroom. Cas is sitting on the bed, rubbing his eyes, wet hair sticking up in every direction, and when he sees Dean, he averts his gaze. 

“Cas,” Dean says, sitting opposite Cas on the other bed. “Talk to me.” 

“You don’t need to help me.”

“I already told you that I do. You’re—“ Dean stops. Best friend is close, but not quite there. Brother? Completely wrong, Cas is nothing like Sam. Less than a year ago, Dean’d almost let the word love spill out, begging Cas for his life, and he guesses that’s—“You’re you,” Dean finishes lamely.

“And me is…you would say that I suck.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I mean, the slang. I suck.”

“Cas—“

“I’m not useful anymore.” Cas has a bit of blanket in one of his fists, squeezing it. “We’ve spent half a week here, vulnerable, just because I got sick.”

“I’ve been sick before.” Dean shrugs. “Doesn’t make me less useful. And you don’t have to be useful. You can just—“

Cas interrupts him. “You said you needed me.”

“��What does that have to do with this?” Dean feels his pulse quicken as he thinks of the crypt and the angel tablet and Cas slipping out his angel blade, poised to kill. 

Poised to kill him. 

“You need me, and I’m not useful.”

“I didn’t—“ Dean stares at Cas, bewildered. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not a weapon or something. You’re—“ He’s stuck again. “You’re you. That’s what I meant.”

“And I’m an angel. Or, at least, I was.” Cas’s grip on the blanket grows tighter. 

“You’re more than that. I mean…” I wish I could tell you what I mean, Dean thinks. He’s not even sure that he’s accepted it himself. Because he knows how this works—acceptance, in his line of work, of someone’s importance to you means that they can be used against you. Means if they’re gone, you’re gone. 

(In his heart, he knows it’s too damn late to escape that. But he can pretend.)

“I mean that you don’t have to be an angel to matter,” Dean finally says. “You just matter to me.” It’s lame, and not quite right, but it’ll do for now, because Cas’s brow smooths, just a little, and he lets go of the blanket and grabs one of the new water bottles. There’s this chasm between them, unspoken, but it’s getting smaller, bit by bit. 

He hopes. 

Maybe one day, he’ll know how to say what he needs to say—what Cas needs to hear. 

[babygirlwolverine]

The 5 Senses of Longing

This fic is a gift for @stanforderadean as part of my gift exchange celebration!

Also posted on ao3.

Word Count: 7,463 (Continued under the Read More)

Dean rapped his knuckles on the wood door, pausing for a second before nudging it open with his shoulder. Cas was lying on the bed in his room, propped up against the headboard with a book in his lap, and Dean was once again hit with the startling recollection that Cas actually needed to sleep now that he didn’t have his Grace. Somehow it was endearing to see Cas this way; curled up under the covers and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

But wasn't that the point of this? The whole reason Dean had come knocking on Cas' door in the first place. Because Cas had been without his powers for months now, and also because they were in a lull with finding Metatron and killing Abbadon. What they needed was a little break. And even though they were dealing with more shit than ever before, Dean yearned to slow things down around them for just a couple of days to show Cas some of the good things about being human.

Dean had been the one to suggest the idea casually to Sam, and with Ezekiel healing him slowly, it was best for Sam to stay at the Bunker and rest. Which gave Dean the perfect opportunity. Now the only thing to do was to bring the idea to Cas.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said, hovering in the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”

Cas smiled, lowering his book and closing it with a quiet thump. “Not at all,” he said, gesturing for Dean to enter the room. “Did something happen?” he asked, smile shifting into something more alert as he pushed himself further up in the bed.

“No, no, nothing happened,” Dean quickly reassured, taking a couple steps closer before hesitating at the foot of the bed. Should he sit on the bed? Should he pull up a chair? Should he just stand there? Why was he overthinking this? God, he really needed to get these bubbling feelings under control before he opened his mouth and said something he shouldn’t. “I was uh. Actually wondering if you were busy?”

Cas blinked a couple times, tilting his head and squinting up at Dean in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I thought we could go on a little road trip. Just you and me for a couple of days. Wanted to show you a few things now that you’re sorta human,” Dean said.

“A road trip? Don’t we do that all the time?” Cas asked.

Dean grinned, nudging Cas’ leg with his knee as he plopped himself down on the edge of the bed. “Well, yeah. But this isn’t gonna be a road trip for a case. There’s a couple of spots around here that you’ve got to experience. Sights and smells you haven’t seen yet. Oh, and the best stack of pancakes you’ll ever eat. You’ve just gotta trust me.”

Something soft and affectionate sparked through Cas’ eyes before he nodded. “Best pancakes I’ll ever eat? Is that so?” he teased.

All the nerves that had been lurching in Dean’s stomach settled all at once, and he shoved at Cas’ leg again. Yeah. This he could do. Their usual playful antics that he enjoyed so much. He didn’t need to think about that little spark that was twining around his heart at the way Cas had just smiled at him.

“Just you wait. Now that you’ve got taste buds, I’m gonna make you try every single food I can get my hands on. I will find every single thing you enjoy eating, mark my words,” Dean said lightly, hauling himself up from the bed. “Twenty minutes. Get your ass moving and meet me at the car.”

Cas laughed, free and happy, and Dean’s heart lurched in his chest. Oh, he was going to do everything he could over the next two days just to hear that sound again.

Dean had just reached the door when Cas called out to him.

“Hey, Dean?”

Dean turned, hand on the doorknob as he looked back at Cas. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Cas said, smiling so warmly that it made Dean feel momentarily weak in the knees. Oh God. If Cas kept smiling at him like that, Dean was going to do something he regretted, like kiss Cas stupid until he could feel that smile against his own lips.

“Yeah, of course. Twenty minutes. Don’t be late,” Dean said, flashing Cas a quick smile before bolting from the room; the door snapping shut behind him as he escaped to the safety of his own room.

Pressing his back into his bedroom door, Dean heaved in a deep breath; closing his eyes and scrubbing his hands over his face. This idea was either the best thing he’d ever come up with... or it was going to be the death of him. Maybe he’d be able to get over this stupid fluttering feeling in his chest. Or maybe, just maybe, that feeling was going to explode until it consumed him whole.

~

"Where are we going first?" Cas asked, sliding into the passenger seat exactly nineteen minutes later.

A minute early, Dean noted. Was that deliberate? Was it accidental? Dean couldn't possibly be overthinking one teeny tiny little minute, could he?

"Pancakes, obviously. Unless you're suddenly going to turn your nose up at chocolate," Dean said, darting his eyes over to Cas as they pulled out of the Bunker onto the main dirt road winding through the woods.

"Chocolate?" Cas repeated, turning in his seat until he'd angled his body towards Dean. The smile that crept across his lips was so dazzling that Dean had to suck in a sharp breath and force his eyes on the road. "I love chocolate."

Huffing out a laugh, Dean clicked on the music and Zeppelin softly filled the air. "Oh really? I never would've known." Shifting onto the main road, Dean grinned at Cas. "I definitely didn't see you eat 3 chocolate bars yesterday."

Cas pretended to be shocked, gasping at Dean even though his eyes were sparkling with laughter. "That certainly wasn't me. Sam framed me."

The laughter bubbled up from Dean’s chest, and he couldn't stop himself from knocking his hand against Cas' knee. "You're a menace. You and your sudden sweet tooth."

"I don't see you complaining that hard. Considering now you have someone to eat chocolate pancakes with."

The breath caught in Dean's throat; such simple words hitting like a wave against his chest. Keeping his focus on the road, he quickly darted his gaze over at Cas from the corner of his eye. Cas had tucked himself against the door, with his body still tilted towards Dean. There was a soft expression on his face; a smile that lit up his eyes with his nose crinkled adorably.

Oh God, this feeling really was going to consume Dean.

Shifting the conversation towards topics that wouldn’t make Dean’s heart ache in his chest, the hour-long drive slipped by in a blur. The diner soon loomed on the horizon, and it was so easy to keep talking about blueberries vs bananas as Dean guided the Impala into a parking spot.

“Doesn’t it depend on what you’re putting the fruit with?” Dean asked, holding the diner door open for Cas to walk through. “Besides, bananas can be baked into far more things than blueberries.”

Cas scrunched up his face, giving Dean a look that bordered on a pout. “You’re just saying that because you prefer bananas over blueberries.”

"I would never," Dean teased, before stepping up to the counter. "Table for two, please."

"Right this way," the hostess said, guiding them to a booth in the back of the diner.

As soon as they sat down, Cas moved to pick up a menu from the table, but Dean reached out from the other side of the booth and plucked it from Cas' hands. "Nope. No looking. You just gotta trust me on this one, yeah?"

"What if I don't like it?" Cas asked, raising an eyebrow even though he leaned back in his seat, conceding to Dean's statement of trust.

Tapping his fingers against the table, Dean tried not to linger on the way their fingertips had just barely brushed when he'd pulled the menu from Cas' grasp. "You will. Don't overthink it and have a little faith in me."

"I do. Trust you," Cas said, something in his tone slipping from playful to serious.

Dean shook his head, dispelling the heavier tone. He didn't want to think about Cas' unwavering trust and how most days he felt like he didn't deserve it. Right now, this moment was about showing Cas something more.

"Good. Because if you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you again," Dean joked, lightening the mood again.

"Never again? That's a long time to not talk to me because of some pancakes, Dean,” Cas laughed.

Just as Dean was about to throw another tease at Cas, a waiter appeared at their table with a smile and a notepad in his hand.

“Hi there, welcome to Mel’s. My name’s Hunter. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Actually, Hunter, we’re ready to order. Two coffees, one with cream and sugar and one with cream. And two short stacks of the rocky road pancakes, please.”

Hunter smiled, jotting down the order. “Well that was easy. I’ll get those coffees out to you both in just a few moments.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, as Hunter collected their menus and disappeared towards the kitchen. “You know how I like my coffee?”

Dean ducked his head, a sudden tinge burning his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “Cream and two sugars. Like I said, you like things on the sweeter side,” Dean said, avoiding Cas’ gaze from the other side of the table.

“You’re very observant,” Cas pointed out.

Dean bit down on his tongue, forcing himself to swallow the words ‘I’m only observant when it comes to you.’ Instead, he threw on a cocky smirk and said, “That’s because I’m an excellent hunter.”

Rolling his eyes, Cas kicked Dean lightly under the table. “You’re not that good.”

Dean pretended to be offended, scrunching up one of the spare napkins and throwing it at Cas’ face. Cas laughed, bright and giddy, and Dean felt a weightless feeling in his chest. He spent the next 15 minutes doing anything and everything he could just to hear Cas laugh again and again.

By the time their pancakes and coffee arrived at the table, Cas’ cheeks were pink from laughter and Dean had never been more smitten. Cas made a little sound of shock as the pancakes were put in front of him; his eyes widening as he looked up at Dean in surprise.

Three massive chocolate pancakes covered the entire size of the plate. Topped with handfuls of marshmallows and almonds, along with a drizzle of chocolate syrup and cocoa powder, it was a chocolate overload.

“What do you think? Does it look sweet enough for you, angel?” Dean said, with a grin.

“Looks like Heaven,” Cas muttered, picking up his fork and taking a bite. Cas instantly groaned in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as he hummed happily. “Tastes like it, too.”

Dean wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Cas’ words or to dwell on the sound Cas had made when he tasted the pancakes, and it was all too much and not enough.

“You like it?” Dean asked, swallowing a mouthful of his own pancake and washing it down with a sip of coffee just so he could distract himself from the look of sheer bliss that was on Cas’ face.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Cas said, dipping one of the mini marshmallows into the chocolate syrup with a grin.

This time Dean did laugh, nudging Cas’ leg under the table with his foot. “Don’t eat it too fast or you’ll give yourself hiccups.”

“That’s not a thing,” Cas said, chewing on another mouthful of pancake.

“Yeah, Cas, it is,” Dean said, huffing out a breath and rolling his eyes fondly.

As if to prove his point, Cas started hiccuping a minute later. Dean raised an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘see, I told you,’ and Cas pouted.

“But it’s so-” he broke off to hiccup, “Good.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Dean said warmly. “Hold your breath for twenty seconds, and then eat a little slower. The pancake isn’t going anywhere.”

Cas gave Dean a sharp look. “Unless you-” he hiccuped again, “steal it from my plate before I can eat it.”

Okay, that was a fair point. Dean definitely had eaten from Cas’ plate before. But this time, he placed his hand on his heart as he said, “I won’t touch your pancakes, you have my word.”

Shoulders bouncing as Cas hiccuped again, Dean watched as Cas took in a deep breath and then held it. He internally counted as well, watching as Cas let the breath out twenty seconds later.

They both waited a beat, then two, and when no more hiccups came, Cas beamed at Dean. “It worked,” he said before moving to take another bite of chocolatey goodness.

They lapsed into comfortable silence as they ate, both of them enjoying their breakfast. Cas broke the moment a few minutes later to say, "I want to eat these pancakes every day for the rest of my life."

Taking a sip of his coffee, Dean grinned across the table at Cas. "I'm not sure if we can get out here every day. But we can make it a thing, if you want? Every Sunday that we're at home, you and I can drive down here for breakfast," Dean offered.

Cas nodded eagerly, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "I'd love that."

Something warm settled in Dean's veins; seeing Cas so happy and content over something as simple as a stack of pancakes. It was all Dean had wanted. To see Cas smile and to see him enjoy something Dean also liked.

Nodding firmly, decision made, Dean nudged Cas with his foot again. “Finish your pancakes. We’ve got more things to explore today.”

“Like what?” Cas asked, freezing with his fork inches from his lips. Dean had to force himself to look away before he stared at the way Cas’ lips wrapped around the fork.

“You’ll see. I’ll give you a couple options in the car and you can pick whichever one you want,” Dean said, biting down on his own fork just a little too roughly; the tang of metal vibrating along his tooth.

Cas pouted, pointing at Dean with the handle of his fork. “What if I want to know the options now?”

Miming zipping his lips closed, Dean smiled at the fond exasperation that Cas shot his way. The expression instantly melted into a smile again as Cas scooped more marshmallows onto his chocolate pancake.

“A new tradition,” Cas murmured, more to himself than Dean, but Dean heard the fondness in the words and his heart kicked up again in his chest.

God, Dean was happy. Happier than he’d been in a long time. He genuinely cared about Cas enjoying things, and knowing he’d been able to make Cas smile was a damn good feeling.

By the time they made their way back to the Impala twenty minutes later, both full of chocolatey sweetness, Cas immediately tapped his fingers on Dean’s knee. “What are the options?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean nudged Baby into gear and pulled back out onto the road. “So impatient.”

“Shut up,” Cas huffed, his tone sharply contrasting the happy look on his face.

“Alright. Simple question. Don’t think too hard about it. Ready?”

Cas nodded.

“Aquarium or the zoo?”

Cas’ eyes sparkled bright blue in the late morning sunlight as he made his choice. “Aquarium.”

~

The afternoon sun crept through the Impala windows as they arrived at the aquarium in Kansas City a couple of hours later. Cas had spent the entire drive talking about the evolution of fish and their importance to the earth from creation until now.

It was entirely endearing, hearing Cas talk so animatedly. It made Dean want to pull over; to watch Cas talk as he hung on every word that slipped past Cas’ lips. Instead, he darted his eyes over to the passenger seat as often as he could, watching as Cas occasionally emphasized his point by gesturing with his hands.

Too cute.

Dean turned his eyes back to the road again.

As soon as they’d parked, Cas was out of the car and gravitating towards the entrance before Dean could even open his door. There was an excited gleam in Cas’ eyes, and Dean felt the electric pull as he allowed Cas to lead the way to the ticket booth.

“I wonder if they’ll have any seahorses. Did you know they’re the only animals where the male carries the eggs and undergoes the birthing process?” Cas asked as Dean purchased the tickets.

Dean hummed vaguely in answer, not wanting to take away from Cas’ enthusiasm by admitting he already knew that. “I’m sure they’ll have plenty of seahorses,” he said instead, watching Cas from the corner of his eye as the former angel beamed.

Stepping into the cool air conditioned building, Dean’s eyes caught the entrance sign that indicated which direction each exhibit was located and he nudged Cas towards it. “What do you want to see first?”

Cas’ gaze caught the very first line on the sign and he grinned. “There are sea turtles, Dean. A whole rescue center for them.” Something in Cas’ expression shifted from excited to fond in the blink of an eye; leaving Dean reeling at how expressive Cas was. “It’s nice. That there are people who try to conserve endangered species.”

Dean bumped his shoulder into Cas’, gently directing him towards the sea turtle exhibit. “See? Not all humans are terrible,” he joked.

“No. They’re not,” Cas said, the fondness morphing into something tender as his gaze locked with Dean’s. The moment felt blinding, and Dean had to tear his eyes away before he did something stupid like lean in and kiss Cas right in front of the exhibit.

Instead, Dean shifted the conversation into something lighter. Putting his hand out, he caught Cas’ shoulder and held him back mere feet from the turtles. When Cas gave him a questioning look, Dean moved to tap his nose with his finger. “Take a second. What do you smell?”

Cas tilted his head, sucking in a deep breath before raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Salt water.”

Dean nodded. “Part of the experience is the smell; the salt lingering in the air from the exhibits. Almost makes you feel like you’re right there by the ocean.”

Dean watched as Cas’ eyes fluttered shut as he took another long, slow breath. A little smile graced his lips, and the sight was so simplistic and yet so beautiful Dean momentarily lost his breath. Quickly sneaking out his phone, Dean took a picture; with the turtles in the background and Cas with his eyes closed in a peaceful bliss.

“I like it,” Cas said a moment later, eyes fluttering open as he looked over at Dean. “The atmosphere is peaceful.”

Nodding, Dean nudged Cas to start moving again. “I’m glad. Now let’s go see the turtles.”

Entering into the turtles rescue center, they walked up to one of the large tanks where several turtles gracefully swam by. Cas moved forward, gently pressing his palm to the glass. “They’re beautiful,” he murmured.

“Do you want to sit and watch them? It looks like there might be someone coming to feed them if you want to stay for that?” Dean asked.

“I’d love to,” Cas said, letting Dean lead him to a bench just a couple of feet away.

They sat down together, watching as the turtles elegantly moved through the water. It was captivating and mesmerizing; both watching the turtles glide through the water, but also watching Cas watching the turtles.

“Tell me something. About turtles, I mean,” Dean said, bumping Cas’ knee with his own.

“Their species is 110 million years old,” Cas said wistfully, as if he were picturing the moment when sea turtles first came into existence. “They don’t have any teeth,” he said, nodding his head to the tank where several jellyfish and crabs were being fed to the turtles. “Their mouth is made of keratin, like your fingernails, which helps to break down the plants and small animals that they eat.”

“They really are elegant,” Dean said, pressing his shoe up against Cas’ and offering him a smile.

Cas nodded, his eyes darting back and forth between the turtles and Dean. “They were some of my favorite creatures made for the ocean.” Cas lapsed into silence for a few moments, his gaze caught on a cluster of turtles that swam up to the surface to take a breath.

Dean let the pause linger, but instead of watching the turtles, he spent his time watching Cas. He cataloged the serene expression on Cas’ face and committed it to memory. It was a pleased contentment that Dean wanted to see Cas experience over and over again.

After several minutes of watching the turtles swim around and waddle their way up onto a sandy ledge, Cas bumped their knees together. “What’s next?”

“You tell me,” Dean said. “What do you want to see?”

“Fish. Any fish,” he paused, “The fish from that movie you’ve talked about before.”

Dean laughed, tipping his head back and letting a bubbling feeling of happiness wrap around his heart. “You mean Finding Nemo?”

“That’s it. Show me fish from Finding Nemo,” Cas said, getting up from the bench and offering his hand to Dean.

Dean let his fingers wrap around Cas’ wrist as Cas pulled him to his feet, and a spark of longing cascaded down his spine. Before he could linger on the feeling for too long, Cas had let go and was moving towards the nearest sign with arrows to the major exhibits.

“It says fish exhibits are this way,” Cas said, already moving towards the tunnel he’d indicated. Except it wasn’t just a tunnel. A large tank wrapped around the walkway, giving a massive overhead view of several sharks and fishes as they stepped into the passage.

“Wow,” Cas breathed out, tilting his head back so he could watch as a blacktip shark swam over their heads. They paused in the corridor, watching as a school of fish darted overhead just seconds after the shark had passed. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Cas whispered.

There was something about Cas’ earnest awe that made Dean want to surprise him over and over again. “Do you like it?” Dean asked, stepping to the side as a family moved past them.

“I do,” Cas replied, happy and carefree.

And then they were moving again; past the sharks and into several rooms filled with tanks of colorful fish. From sea bass to minnows, and rockfish to flounders; they spent a vast amount of time looking at each exhibit of fish. Dean specifically found tanks filled with clownfish and blue tangs, explaining the plot of Finding Nemo even though he knew Cas already knew the movie.

The exhibits transitioned from fish into invertebrates and other sea creatures; crabs and lobsters, jellyfish and urchins, eels to octopi. Cas was fascinated by every animal they saw.

But Dean’s favorite part was the knowledge Cas shared. At every single exhibit, Dean pointed at a fish and asked, “Tell me something about this one.” And, without fail, Cas instantly told Dean a unique fact or detail about whichever animal Dean had pointed at. Dean stopped looking at the signs next to each tank, instead turning and asking Cas what each species was. No matter how many times Dean asked, Cas gave him the same beautifully fond smile as he detailed every fish they saw.

By the time they’d made their way through all of the tanks, Dean swore he could write and direct his own nature series on sea creatures with all the information Cas had shared.

“Alright, now we’ve seen the fish, are you ready for the best part of any aquarium trip?” Dean asked as they stepped back out into the main entryway of the building.

“There’s something better than seeing the fish?” Cas asked, tilting his head questioningly.

Dean chuckled, nudging Cas towards another corridor while deliberately blocking the signpost from view so that he could surprise Cas. “Oh, trust me, you’re gonna enjoy this.”

Guiding Cas past tanks of coral and kelp, they walked out into a large enclosure. People lingered around a massive pool in the center of the room; children screaming and giggling and the sounds of splashing water echoing around the walls.

“Welcome,” Dean said, gesturing widely with his arms, “To the interactive touchpool.”

“The what?” Cas asked, squinting at Dean in shock.

“Touchpool, Cas. It’s where you can actually put your hand in the water and touch the creatures. I thought you’d like to physically interact with some of the animals. If you want?”

Cas pulled in a sharp breath, his eyes flitting to the large pool before darting back to Dean in awe. “What animals are there?”

“Why don’t we go find out?” Dean said, guiding Cas to the sink area so they could both wash their hands before directing them to an open spot along the wall of the exhibit. Rolling his sleeve up, Dean motioned for Cas to do the same. Then he dipped his fingertips into the water, and watched as Cas copied his motions.

Reaching out, Dean’s fingers brushed over a sea star and he chuckled quietly. “C’mere,” he said, moving his hand through the water until he bumped against Cas. Linking their fingers together, Dean guided their joined hands down until Cas’ palm was pressed against the sea star.

“Oh.” Cas’ surprise hung in the air between them as he leaned his weight into Dean’s side. Pressed together against the rocky edge of the exhibit, Dean swore he never wanted to let go. But Cas deserved to experience what it felt like to touch these creatures. Loosening his hold on Cas’ wrist until he was just barely brushing their hands together, Dean felt Cas’ hand move slowly over the top of the sea star, as if he were memorizing every hard bump of the spines along its body. “It’s not what I expected, even though I know every molecule they’re made of. It feels… leathery,” Cas said, tilting his head carefully as he gently traced his fingers over the starfish for a second time.

Dean gave Cas another minute to interact with the sea star before he slipped his fingers across the back of Cas’ hand and carefully guided him again. “How does this feel?” he asked as he lowered Cas’ hand down gently towards an anemone.

Cas let out another little gasp, hand jerking back slightly at the texture before he touched it again. “Gelatinous. Like jello,” Cas said with a laugh, fingers tracing over the flower-like structure.

Shifting away slightly to put some space between them, Dean moved to pull his hand away, but Cas instantly followed him until he pressed their hands together again. Their fingers interlocked under the rippling water, and Dean felt his breath stutter out of his lungs.

“Show me something else,” Cas said, voice almost drowned out by the loud sounds all around them.

Pulling in a sharp breath, Dean kept their hands linked together as he took a step to the side; waiting for Cas to follow him. He watched carefully as the stingray moved along the floor of the exhibit, and as it approached them, he directed Cas’ hand down until his palm slid down the stingray's back.

“What does the stingray feel like?” Dean asked, words sticking in his throat as the overwhelming sensations sparked between them.

“Smooth. Almost sleek and silky,” Cas said, voice dropping into something breathy in awe. Cas’ hand lingered against the stingray, fingertips stroking over it’s skin before Dean shifted their joined hands down onto the bottom of the tank.

“Let it move over your hand,” Dean said, shifting his hold on Cas until he was gripping around Cas’ wrist.

The stingray rippled over Cas’ hand as it swam along the floor, and Cas let out a startled laugh. “It tickles,” he said, leaning his weight back into Dean again until his hip bumped against Dean’s. They remained that way for several long seconds as the stingray moved over Cas’ hand and continued on its way down the length of the pool.

Dean cast his eyes from the water up to Cas, and their gazes locked for a heart-pounding moment. An unspoken thing passed between them, and Cas momentarily flipped his hand until his palm brushed against Dean’s palm. There was a rush of water that moved around their hands at the motion, but Dean swore he could feel the heat from Cas’ hand radiating up into his.

Movement from a large gray fish broke Dean from the trace and he tipped Cas’ hand palm down again as the fish swam past.

“Fish,” Dean said.

“Sturgeon,” Cas clarified as his fingers grazed along the bony spines of its back until it’s whiskers tickled over the pads of his fingers. “It’s smooth because it doesn't have any scales, but also bony where the cartilage creates these projections.”

Nodding, Dean glided their hands through the water again until they brushed against the sharp roughness of coral.

“It’s different, right? Focusing all your senses on the way something feels,” Dean said quietly.

Cas nodded, letting Deans’ fingers slide into the gaps between his own again. “I’ve never experienced anything quite like it,” Cas said, words whispered reverently between them. And then, said even more quietly, “I remember watching the evolution of these creatures; watching one of the fish climb onto the shore and another angel telling me not to step on that fish because there were big plans for it. I wish I’d known then.”

“Known what?” Dean asked, a sudden lump forming in his throat.

“How beautiful fish could be, and what it was truly like to see them and touch them,” Cas responded, letting Dean maneuver them as another stingray floated through the water right underneath their hands.

Dean tilted his head, watching the way Cas’ expressions shifted from amazement to surprise and delight.

“Do you want to stay here for a little while? We can see if there’s any other creatures on the other side of the pool that you can interact with?”

The smile that Cas gave him was so bright Dean swore it rivaled the sun. “I’d like that very much.”

Letting go of Cas’ hand and stepping away from the water felt like Dean had left a part of himself behind on the edge of the pool. But when they’d found a new spot on the opposite end of the exhibit, Cas’ hand instantly found Dean’s underwater.

They spent an hour at the touchpool interacting with the creatures, but Dean wasn’t paying attention to the animals anymore. All he could focus on was the way Cas’ hand fit perfectly with his own, and how Cas kept their fingers intertwined the entire time. Dean never wanted the moment to end; Cas pressed against him, babbling excitedly about how everything felt, as if they had all the time in the world to linger right there at the edge of the glistening water.

~

Dusk had fallen by the time they left the aquarium. Walking back to the car, Dean felt drunk on happiness with the tingling sensation of Cas’ fingers still lingering against his hand. Part of him wanted to reach out and grasp Cas’ hand again, but without the pretense of the water, Dean hesitated and the moment slipped by.

But the day had been good; better than anything Dean could’ve hoped for. In all the time he’d known Cas, Dean swore he’d never seen Cas laugh and smile so much.

By the time they climbed back into the Impala, Cas was hiding a yawn behind his hand, automatically dropping his head to rest against the door.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one day. Ready to find a motel and get some sleep?” Dean asked.

Cas’ tired eyes found Dean’s in the muted light from the streetlight above them, and he gave Dean a soft nod. Despite the exhaustion, Dean could still see the etches of happiness lingering in Cas’ expression. Something churned in Dean’s stomach at the sight and he reached out, resting his hand briefly on Cas’ knee with a gentle squeeze.

“Dean,” Cas said, voice infused with affection.

The tenderness was almost too much to bear, and Dean cast his eyes out to the road as they pulled out of the parking lot. “Sap,” he muttered back to Cas, catching the little fond smile on Cas’ face at the light teasing.

Once they were back on the road, Cas closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the door again. Dean noticed, and quickly he fumbled one handed to grab one of his spare jackets from the backseat. He nudged it into Cas’ lap, nodding his head towards the door. “Better to use a jacket as a pillow.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas murmured thickly, scrunching the jacket up and nestling it between his head and the door. Another surge of fondness surged up to wrap around Dean’s lungs, and he forced himself to focus on driving instead of watching Cas drift off to sleep with his head pillowed on his jacket.

It took almost half an hour of driving to find a motel that had any vacancy- why the last 3 were all full was a surprising feat that Dean had rarely encountered- and Dean was tempted to let Cas sleep the rest of the night tucked up in the passenger seat, but he knew from experience that it was more comfortable to drag his exhausted ass into a motel room than to get neck ache from sleeping against the car door. As softly as he could, Dean nudged Cas’ shoulder.

Cas’ eyes immediately fluttered open, Dean’s name on his lips as he catalogued their surroundings with sleepy blinks.

“Hey buddy. Are you ready to get out of the car and get some sleep in a bed?” Dean prompted, keeping his tone gentle in the peaceful darkness of the car.

“Yeah, okay,” Cas said, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

God. The sight was ridiculously cute. Dean’s heart kicked up against his chest, and he forced himself to open the door and step out into the cool night air before he reached out and brushed his hand through Cas’ messy hair. “I’ll go get us checked in.”

He waited until he saw Cas nod before he made his way to the front desk.

A young man looked up as the bell above the door dinged, and the smell of musty haze hit Dean as he stepped into the building.

“Single room with two queens, please,” Dean said, stepping up to the counter.

The man made a face, shaking his head as he dropped a key in front of Dean. “Sorry, dude. I’ve got one room left with one bed. There’s a convention in town and everywhere is booked for miles.”

Well shit. Dean cast his eyes outside to Cas, who was leaning against the hood of the Impala with his shoulders hunched as if he were barely keeping himself standing upright. They were both tired, and searching for another motel when there was a room here felt unnecessarily complicated. They could share a bed, right? It was just for one night. Cas wouldn’t mind, would he?

“Yeah, alright, we’ll take it,” Dean said, lungs suddenly constricting in his chest at the thought of lying inches away from Cas. “Thanks.” Picking up the key, Dean made his way back out to the Impala where Cas had stacked their bags on the curb by his feet.

“Hope you don’t mind sharing,” he said, bending down to grab his overnight bag. “They only had one room left with just one bed.”

“Okay,” Cas said, simple and easy. But was that… was that a smile? Why was Cas smiling about sharing a bed? Surely he wouldn’t want to be crammed up next to Dean after they’d spent all day in each other’s pockets. “I’m following you.”

Shaking his head, Dean hummed vaguely and followed the signs down to their room. Nudging open the door, Dean dumped his bag on the little table by the window. “You can go ahead and take a shower first if you want?”

Cas smiled, tired yet genuine. “Are you sure?”

Nodding, Dean gestured towards the bathroom. “Go for it. I’m just gonna check in on Sam and see how he’s doing.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean watched Cas disappear into the bathroom, and his chest ached as the yearning wrapped thickly around his lungs. God. Any hopes Dean had of this trip dampening his feelings had quickly flown out the window. The ache was even deeper now, and the thought of sharing a bed with Cas all night was more than Dean could handle.

Stepping back outside, Dean sucked in a sharp lungful of air. He really was in trouble now. Calling Sam didn’t seem to distract Dean at all; especially because Sam had nothing exciting to report other than the fact he’d been doing some inventory work around the bunker.

A cold shower would help to tamper down the yearning… well, it would’ve if Dean hadn’t seen Cas emerge from the bathroom in a soft pair of pajama pants and one of Dean’s old tshirts that he’d given to Cas a couple months ago.

Shit. Dean was well and truly smitten.

Cas tugged the blankets around himself as he curled up on the left side of the bed, and Dean felt his heart lurch in his chest. Soft. That was the best word he could find to describe how Cas looked. Hair still damp and flopped across his forehead with a faded maroon shirt highlighting Cas’ tan. The sleepy look in Cas’ eyes was enough to have Dean melting into the floor.

“I’ll be- uh, be right back,” Dean said, locking himself into the bathroom as his heart thundered against his ribs.

There was no escaping the feeling.

By the time Dean made his way back into the room, he expected Cas to be asleep. But instead he was propped up against the headboard and he smiled at Dean the second he saw him. Dean hesitated for a moment at the edge of the bed, before pulling back the covers and climbing in on the other side.

Cas instantly shifted so he was facing Dean, offering him another tired smile. “Today was good. Really good,” he murmured quietly.

Dean felt himself relax into the mattress; tilting until he was lying face to face with Cas. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cas replied. They lapsed into silence for a few moments before Cas admitted, “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

Dean raised an eyebrow in the faint light coming from the single lamp on Cas’ side of the bed, waiting for Cas to clarify what he meant.

“That the simple things in life could be so beautiful,” Cas said after a moment, as if he’d been looking for the right words to describe what he was feeling. “I don’t know what…” Cas paused, tilting his head until his cheek was pressed into the pillow. “I’ve never really known what happiness is. But I think this is what it looks like; what it feels like.”

The words hovered between them, heavy in their confession and yet light in their tone.

“You’re happy?” Dean whispered, barely able to get his voice to escape past his lips.

Cas smiled, gummy and soft, and it was the most beautiful smile Dean had ever seen. “Really, really happy,” Cas said, fingers tugging lightly at the blanket he’d wrapped himself in.

The words settled like honey in Dean’s veins, and he felt himself smile right back at Cas. God, why was he feeling so sappy and why did he want to do anything to keep that smile on Cas’ face?

“Wanna talk about plans for tomorrow? I’ve got another idea you might enjoy that’s on the way back home,” Dean said. The idea had wiggled its way into his head while he’d been brushing his teeth, and he had a feeling it would make Cas smile even more when he suggested it.

“Yeah?” Cas asked, echoing the same tone Dean had used just a couple minutes ago.

“Botanical garden. There’s one on the other side of Kansas City that’s famous for blooming flowers this time of year. I thought you might like to see some of the beauty of nature,” Dean said.

A smitten look crossed Cas’ face; his eyes softening into something extremely tender and affectionate. And then he was leaning across the pillow into Dean’s space. When their lips met, it was the softest brush Dean had ever felt in his life.

Cas pulled back with a little sigh of an exhale, and then dove back in to press their mouths together again. This kiss was even warmer and slower; Cas pressing his body against Dean and Dean wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist to coax him closer.

They broke the kiss with little gasps before closing the gap to kiss again. Cas’ nose brushed against Dean’s, nuzzling delicately, before his fingertips grazed along Dean’s jaw.

Dean’s heart ached in his chest as Cas peppered several quick butterfly pecks against his lips before lingering on the next kiss. Everything seemed to slow down around them, until all of Dean’s senses were overwhelmed with the touch and taste of Cas.

Somehow, Dean had always pictured that kissing Cas would be like an electrical storm; crackling and fizzling and bursting with desperation to make things deeper. But this… this was the most delicate and romantic kiss Dean had ever experienced in his life. Soft and simple; just gentle caresses of their lips melding together with little happy hums.

Cas tilted his head and Dean followed the movement, sliding his hand under the hem of Cas’ tshirt until he was tracing little patterns along Cas’ hip. Each kiss felt like Dean was going to melt into the mattress as Cas huffed a tiny breath against his cheek before kissing him again.

God.

It was so good Dean just couldn’t get enough.

When Cas pulled back with a stuttering breath, Dean chased him, free hand coming up to cup Cas’ cheek as he brushed their noses together again before seeking out Cas’ lips in another kiss.

Quiet little pleased sounds filled the air with the tickle of lips teasing against each other. Cas’ hands had found their way into Dean’s hair, and Dean had all but tugged Cas forwards until he was lying across Dean’s chest. Fast kisses morphed into slow tangible dances as their mouths learned what it felt like to be slotted together.

By the time Dean finally pulled back, resting his forehead against Cas’, he was absolutely breathless and his heart was milliseconds from catapulting out of his chest with how fast it was beating.

“What was that for?” Dean whispered, tracing his fingertips from Cas’ hip to the small of his back.

“Because you’re absolutely… Dean, you’re just… indescribable,” Cas murmured, lips ghosting over Dean’s cheek. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day. You make me happier than I’ve ever been in my entire existence.”

Something in Dean’s chest burned warm and pleasant through his veins, lighting his heart on fire. This whole time, Cas had felt the same way he did. God. He’d have kissed Cas breathless over those chocolate pancakes had he known that Cas wanted it, too.

Cas tucked himself more comfortably against his side, and Dean looped his arms loosely around Cas’ back.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, breath tickling along Dean’s neck.

“Hm?” Dean hummed quietly.

“Kiss me again.”

This time it was just sleepy little brushes; lips ever-so-softly coming together in chaste touches as they kissed. When Cas pulled back, he muttered something about the botanical gardens and how happy he was. The words were muffled into the collar of Dean’s shirt, and Dean felt the shift as Cas drifted off to sleep in his arms.

When sleep finally caught up to Dean after he spent several long minutes committing this perfect day to his memory, it was with the taste of Cas still lingering against his lips and the feel of Cas’ body pressed against his own.

[estrel]

How Did The Car Get Here?

or: why the impala being in dean's heaven means it isn't really heaven

[content warnings: mention of the finale (15x20), though no screenshots are included because i can’t force myself to rewatch it]

okay so i'm finally cracking my knuckles and getting into a meta post after the finale, and it started because marlo and i watched scoobynatural the other month and of course that means some new revelations about the finale came to light, right? right (this is the grain of salt i'm throwing at you <3 it's gonna read like the fan fiction meta. that’s a warning)

you might be thinking, "ely, what the hell does scoobynatural have anything to do with the finale." and to that i say, surprisingly quite a lot

the basic premise of this episode is that sam, dean and cas are whisked away to a tv world (scooby doo) and have to save the people (characters—HEROES, hint hint) in it from a real-world ghost. it's revealed later that the ghost has been tied to a pocket knife that a real estate developer has been putting everywhere in order to scare shop owners into giving their stores to him. (wiki description that might’ve put it better than i could)

when sam and dean first arrive, almost immediately sam says, "how did the car get here?" but more importantly i’d like to ask: why is the car here?

so, let’s get into it.

[ID: A screenshot from “Scoobynatural” of the Impala at night. Sam and Dean stand to the left of the frame. It is captioned with Sam saying “How did the car get here?” / End ID.] 

it feels like many of us, including dean himself in the finale, were surprised (read: offended) to see the Impala in heaven. what's the purpose? it's obviously inanimate, and though dean gives her a gender and a name, it doesn't make her "real," nor does it give her a soul, which seems like a heavenly prerequisite. so how—or why is the car there at all? 

in scoobynatural, Baby is used simply as a means to get from one place to another (as vehicles do) UNTIL it becomes apparent that the ghost they're hunting is actually a ghost. then, the real purpose baby serves is to provide weapons and hunting materials in order to take down the big bad.

[ID: Two screenshots from “Scoobynatural.” In the first one, Velma is speaking and fixing her glasses, surrounded by the Scooby Gang. Scooby and Shaggy are on the left side of the frame, and Daphne and Fred are on the right. It’s night time. The caption reads, “We don’t have the proper tools or weapons.” The second screenshot depicts a cartoon version of Sam, with the caption, “That’s okay. We do.” / End ID.]

mind you, sam and (especially) dean weren't aware of why they'd been whisked into the tv in the first place, or that there was any "real" danger at all. dean was actually enjoying it a LOT, stuffing his face with much-too-tall sandwiches, hitting on daphne, and gaping at the mystery machine in awe. the Impala being there with them seemed insignificant (dean even says so)... until it isn’t, and her true purpose is revealed—

[ID: Two screenshots from “Scoobynatural.” The first one shows a shot from the perspective of inside the Impala’s trunk. Sam and Dean are surrounded by the Scooby Gang on either side of them, with Scooby, Shaggy, and Cas on the right side of the frame, and Velma, Daphne and Fred on the left. The caption describes the trunk unlocking. The second screenshot is of the contents in the trunk: several weapons like a wooden stake, various guns, an axe, a knife, and an arrow. / End ID.]

so, with the Impala appearing in the Scooby universe with all the equipment they could ever want...or need or...dream, doesn’t that remind you of what bobby says in 15x20? let’s see...

[ID: A screenshot of the 15x20 transcript. It’s a snippet from Bobby’s line, which reads, “You got everything you could ever want...or need or...dream. So, I guess the question is...what are you gonna do now, Dean?” / End ID.]

best of all, right after Bobby says this, Dean spots the Impala and decides to go for a drive:

[ID: A screenshot of the 15x20 transcript. It reads, “(Dean looks away from Bobby and sees the Impala, with the original KAZ 2Y5 license plate, parked on the road).” / End ID.]

let me rewind a bit to something i said earlier. “sam and (especially) dean weren't aware of why they'd been whisked into the tv in the first place, or that there was any "real" danger at all.” in my theory for 15x20, I think it’s actually quite a similar situation, in that they are fooled into thinking there is no real danger and that heaven is just...heaven. bobby is there, along with some (crappy) beer and dean’s parents are there, and— wait, doesn’t bobby hate john? and hang on...you’re telling me the beer in heaven is crappy? and hey, wasn’t jack acting a bit strange after becoming god? what was up with that?

a lot of things about the finale just...don’t add up. and the impala is there, even though Baby doesn’t have a soul and therefore could not be/manifest itself in heaven (just as she couldn’t actually be in scoobynatural because she wasn’t there when sam and dean got sucked into the tv). so we’re back to asking: why is the car here? 

i’m going to just take a shot in the dark here and say that maybe it’s for the same reason that she was there in scoobynatural. to serve a purpose when they realize that there’s actually a big bad to be fought—that things aren’t exactly as they seem. 

as to who the big bad is, take your pick!! it could be chuck!jack, or the Empty (it is still loud in there after all), it could even be a djinn dream. but throwing Baby into heaven for seemingly no reason other than to have dean drive her for like fifty years just seems ridiculous to me. she’s got weapons in her trunk, weapons that the heroes (good place to remind you that there is LITERALLY a s15 ep called The Heroes’ Journey) can use to their advantage. 

there’s a lot that points to something being off about the finale. but personally, i think Baby might be our biggest clue. 

kirk out.

[spnsisterimagines]

Mario Kart

Summary - Y/N decides to engage her brothers and Castiel into Mario Kart, not realizing what she was getting herself into.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Jack Kline x Platonic!Winchester!Reader, Castiel x Winchester!Reader

Word Count - 1,911 words

"Let's get it!" Y/N squeals, claiming her spot on the middle of the couch. She was practically bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for everyone to join her. The Dean Cave had brightened considerably since she had added a few redecorations. While Dean initially denied her, she had forced him to allow her to put up LED lights, several polaroids from her camera(they were mostly of herself smiling widely at the camera while Sam and Dean looked mildly annoyed with fake smiles. There was also a real funny one where Sam was unconscious on a hunt and Y/N decided to pose beside him), as well as posters from their favorite bands. Not to mention the added dock to the TV stand to hold her Nintendo Switch that Sam had bought her for her previous birthday. 

She supposed he regretted it now, since she was forcing him to play a game he'd never even heard of.

He entered the room first, holding a big bowl of popcorn and a soda. Dean followed close behind, Little Debbie packages hanging from his mouth since his arms were occupied with pillows from their bedrooms and a pack of beers for himself. Jack was the only one to come empty handed. He happily took the spot beside Y/N, waving merrily as Castiel also appeared with two sodas(both of them for Beth because he was just so considerate), taking the spot on her other side.

"I'll give this an hour before we switch to movie night, Y/N," Dean warned as he occupied his armchair, which was to the left of the couch. She had discovered this old thing at a garage sale. It had been a rather stressful day because Dean had refused to strap it to Baby and they had to hound what little friends they had for a truck. Since most of their friends were dead, Y/N had hot wired one outside of a bar and returned it before the drunk redneck inside could notice it had even left. She was sure the dent in the bed was there before they put the couch on it. Sam had not been happy about that.

Sam took his own armchair, which was to the right of the couch. 

"What is it, again?" he asked curiously. 

"Is the only thing in the media you've ever heard Facebook? You've seriously never heard of Mario Kart?" Y/N asked, happily accepting one of the sodas from Castiel. "Dad really did a number on us. I was introduced to this through Charlie." She got up to grab the number of controllers necessary for four. Jack was eager to try the game, but he was always open to trying new things, something Y/N could appreciate.

After connecting them to the Switch, she handed them out to her brothers along with Jack before returning to her spot on the couch between the angel and nephilim. 

"If I remember correctly from what you've told me, it's a racing game, right?" Castiel asked.

"Exactly, except with a few quirks to make it interesting. Like, um...I could throw a shell and hit one of them and vice versa. Or a banana peel. I'll give them a trial run before we actually get into it. Are you sure you don't want to try it, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "I have seen how you play with Charlie, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger. And I rather like watching you in your element."

Y/N smiled, blushing, before playfully pushing him. 

"I need to get drunk to stomach this," Dean said, offended as he popped one of the beers open and took a gulp. "Keep the PDA to a minimum guys, you've got a kid next to you. Alright, what buttons do I push to hit Sam?"

"What the hell?" Sam scoffed. 

"What?"

"We haven't even started and you're gunnin' for me?"

"Uh, yeah!" 

"Alright, alright! First we gotta pick our player," Y/N mediated, pressing the buttons to get them to the screen full of Mario players. "I already got mine." She moved her icon until it landed on Wendy, before selecting her. "Obviously the best character, hands down."

The three boys maneuvered their icons over different characters, for some reason taking it a little too seriously on who they would choose. Sam selected his first. 

"Luigi?" Dean scoffed.

"You got a problem?" Sam asked. 

"No, but...why Luigi?"

"Who cares, I just chose him."

"You have to have a reason, man." Dean shook his head, before selecting his own. 

"Why'd you choose Bowser, then?"

"Because he's a badass. And he'd beat the holy hell out of Luigi if the games lost their PG rating," Dean shrugged.

Jack hummed thoughtfully, still scrolling. "I choose him!" 

He selected Toad. 

"Why him, Jack?" she asked. 

"I like his hat."

Y/N snorted, but it was a valid enough answer. Once everyone was ready, she selected the settings for the game and then decided to use the time to explain to them how the controls worked and anything else they were curious about. After a few trial races, they were ready for the real thing. Castiel was sitting patiently, his hands on his lap. 

"You assholes are going down," Dean declared, bringing his remote closer to him. 

"So much for being appropriate in front of the kid," Y/N sneered, but she was just as ready.

She set the game to go through ten races with a random select for the roads. 

And with that, they were off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Dean yelled, nearly jumping to his feet. His first empty beer bottle slide across the floor from his rapid movement. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH IT! I DIDN'T GO NEAR THE GODDAMN PEEL!"

"That might've been mine," Sam stated, smugly. "But Bowser also takes up half the road, so avoiding it was probably impossible anyway."

Dean squinted. "You callin' me fat, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged. "Luigi's doing just fine."

Y/N hid her smile as she hit her own item, snatching that smile right from Sam's face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, incredulous, the red shell sending Luigi off the edge of the map. 

"You got in my way!" Y/N sang. 

It only seemed to get worse from there. What was supposed to be an hour of playing turned into four with the bowl of popcorn thrown across the room at Dean when he had decided to hit Sam three times with three separate shells before snagging first place and doing a lewd dance as a way to declare his victory. Y/N's hair had bristled up, becoming bushier almost as though it were alive. Her right eye was twitching, and her hands were cramping by now. 

Jack, however, was having a good time. He has gotten last place the entire time, but he was still having fun, and that's what truly mattered.

Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, not knowing whose side he should take because all three Winchester siblings were completely out of their minds, including Y/N.

Finally, it was the last race. Everyone's nerves were shot. Sam's hair seemed even more raggedy than Y/N's, and his shirt was stained with soda because Dean decided to take vengeance by chucking his pillow at him when Sam was taking a big gulp. They had to pause the game for several minutes while Sam fought for his life coughing and wheezing because the soda went down the wrong pipe.

"I'm afraid I must at least attempt to deter you guys from participating in another race. There aren't any weapons in the Dean Cave, but I'm sure you three will find a way to kill each other," Castiel said, worried. "Jack, are you okay?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I'm having fun!"

"I will let it be known if I lose, someone is dying tonight. I will call Billie to fix it, but someone has to die tonight if I lose," Y/N threatened. 

"Good luck with that, I'm kicking all of your asses, and you can kiss mine when it crosses the finish line," Dean said.

"I don't even care if I win, as long as you guys lose. And I'll make sure it happens." Sam jeered. 

With that, the race began. Aside from Jack and Castiel, everyone was bloodthirsty. Surely no matter who won, someone was gonna be pissed off. Castiel was making a mental note to grab Jack as soon as possible and escort him out of the room while the siblings brawled. 

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Y/N shouted, jumping to her feet. "WHO DID IT! WHO DID IT?"

"I did!" Sam happily announced, moving to and fro with the turn of his controller, as though he were in the game himself. 

"I'm gonna get you, Sam," Y/N snarled, pressing hard on the buttons, trying her best to catch up to her brother, collecting any items she came across, but none of them were good enough, so she kept using them without thinking until she heard Dean curse and also jump to his feet. 

"THAT WAS ME, JACKASS!" he yelled, completely distraught. "I didn't even do anything this time!"

"You probably deserved it anyway!" Sam shrugged, continuing to maneuver through the AIs to get to the front. 

By that time, Dean and Y/N had caught up, and with all they had, they used their items to completely screw each other over up until every kart had passed them. In the end, they were the bottom three with Sam first, Y/N second, and Dean in dead last. And for a moment there after, nobody said anything. They were completely beside themselves in utter shock at what just occurred. 

"What just happened?" Y/N asked, deflating considerably. 

"We lost..." Sam mumbled. 

"Screw you guys, I lost overall!" Dean scoffed.

"I won!" Jack suddenly cheered, leaping to his feet and jumping up and down. "I won!"

"You what?" Y/N asked, shocked as her eyes trailed to the top. Sure enough, Toad was in first place. "You're kidding!"

"I can't believe I won!" Jack said, smiling as he high-fived a proud Castiel.

"I want a rematch," Dean commanded, sitting back down and retrieving his controller. 

"Yeah, me, too!" Sam agreed. 

"I'm down!" Y/N eagerly agreed, about to grab hers when Castiel snatched it. He went around the room, taking up all the controllers.

"Given that it's five in the morning, and just a couple moments ago you three were ready to quite literally rip each other's throats out, I'm going to recommend everyone get up and get to bed instead," he instructed curtly. "I think we should postpone a future night of games indefinitely, at least for a little while until you three can learn to control yourselves."

"What-but-you can't-" Y/N sputtered.

"Quite literally, I can shut off whatever is necessary so you can never play the game again with just a snap of my fingers," Castiel warned. "Shower and get some sleep. Jody already told us she needed to discuss something at noon tomorrow, and it would be rude if we were tardy. C'mon, let's go!"

With a grumble, everyone got up and cleaned their mess, ignoring each other vehemently as they walked out. Except for Jack; he was practically skipping. 

There was another good thing about tonight that he knew about. He was the one that triggered the lightning item that really stumped the three siblings and put them at the bottom three.

[whelvenwings]

who will fall beside you, if you fall

Dean Winchester's been loved in a lot of different ways throughout his life. He was shaped by that love, changed by the expectations and hopes and hurts of the people he cared about. He learned fear and silence and caution. But Castiel's confession, free of expectation, might undo those lessons.

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Endgame Castiel/Dean, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Lisa/Dean Snippet and Minor Cassie/Dean Snippet, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Fallen Angel Castiel Word Count: ~4k

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” Dean said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me.” The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

Read the whole thing below the cut!

Dean was three years old and not quite steady on his feet, still, when his father took him outside to help shovel the snow. In his coat and hat he was a little duffled-up sweetheart, to whom nothing particularly bad had ever happened.

Red-cheeked and grinning, he left small bootprints in the snow.

“Come over here, Dean.” John stood behind Dean and lowered the shovel down to Dean’s height, so that they could hold it and move the snow together. Dean pressed his lips together and frowned as he followed his father’s movements. John’s coat smelled like smoke and the outdoors. They moved one, two, three, four, five big shovel-fulls.

“That’s enough for one day,” said a voice from the porch – Mary, smiling down at the two of them. John carefully lifted the shovel out of Dean’s reach, standing up to his full height. They’d managed to clear just a short stretch of the path that led up to the house.

“But Mom, there’s loads more!” Dean said, pointing to the rest of the pathway.

“Your dad can clear that. You need to come in and have some lunch,” Mary said. “Come on.”

Dean looked up to his father with wide eyes, but John put his hand on the top of Dean’s head and ruffled it so that his hat almost came off.

“Listen to your mom, Dean. In you go.”

Dean’s eyes travelled from his father’s face to his mother’s.

“There’s your favourite for dessert,” Mary said, coaxing him with a little smile.

“Yes!”

Dean made a sudden break for it towards her, running down the path he’d just helped to clear. After the crunch-crunch-crunch of the snow, the cleared pathway was hard under Dean's feet. Hard, and unexpectedly slippery.

“Whoa, there,” said John, as Dean felt his balance go, his feet skidding out from under him – and suddenly he was being lifted, one hand on either side of him. John pulled him up out of the fall, and set him back down in thick snow.

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

“Next time,” John said, giving Dean a little push indoors, “I won’t catch you. You’ve got to learn, Dean.”

–––––

And now Dean was eleven years old and trailing after his father down a quiet midnight street, with a sleepy little brother in tow.

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

He’d pay for that question later somehow, and Dean knew it, but because he’d asked there was a new purpose in John’s step. They didn’t stop at the liquor store that Dean knew John had been weighing going into. Walking past it, Dean felt a little break of relief in his chest. They’d get out of the cold sooner, and Sam could get to bed.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, keeping walking. Sam was wearing Dean’s coat, swimming in it, the hood pulled up and the elastic tight so only the round circle of his face was visible. It was nearly funny, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the humour was shaved off everything.

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.” Dean cast a glance forwards at his father’s back. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay. Just a little bit longer.”

Sam made a miserable face. Their breaths were puffs of air between them. Underfoot was the hiss and crunch of melting, slushy snow.

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

“It’s late, Sammy. We’ll have something in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

“Okay.” Dean cast another worried look towards his father, and then made a meaningful face at Sam when he looked back around. “I’ll find something. I think we have some of that apple juice left over.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said, but he’d quietened his voice, too. “And a drink.”

“You didn’t know?” Dean said, making sure his face was completely straight.

“Know what?”

“That’s the best part,” Dean said. “Cold drinks make you warm up faster.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean cursed internally. Every day Sam got a little smarter and a little harder to keep happy.

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

“It is,” Dean promised. “You’ll see.” He thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Maybe we can heat up the apple juice."

“Keep up, boys,” said John’s voice, from too far away. Dean realised he must have slowed down as he’d talked to Sam, even though he’d been trying to hold a steady pace. He reached for Sam’s hand, turning his head at the same time to call back to his father – and as he did so, he felt his balance betray him. His feet slipped in the slush, and in a rush he was a jumble of elbows and knees hitting the ground in all the wrong places.

For a second he sat still, assessing the damage. Nothing broken.

“Are you okay?” Sam said, the dish of his face looking pale and worried above Dean.

“I’m fine… ugh.”

“Get up,” John called, and when Dean turned his head to look, he saw that his father was turning away to keep walking. Dean scrambled to his feet, hands out for balance. His hip ached – he’d landed on it.

“I’m alright,” Dean said to Sam, pulling on a smile. “Let’s go.”

He hurried after John, making sure Sam was beside him, going as fast as he dared until they were right behind their father. His knee was starting to throb, too, and he kept it off his face carefully, because Sam was still glancing up at him.

“Saw you reach for your brother when you were falling,” John grunted. “Don’t do that. If you two’re on your own and both of you go down, you’re both dead. If Sam’s still up, he can go for help.”

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

“Don’t do it,” John repeated, more forcefully.

They walked on in silence.

––––-

And now Dean was twenty-one years old and stepping out into the brisk air of a winter evening, with his head a little light from the drinks he’d had in the bar at his back.

“Come on,” Cassie said from beside him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You can tell me.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this,” Dean said, as they began to make their way down the street, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

Dean glanced over at her smile, and thought about the way the shifter he’d taken out earlier that day had looked at him, right before he’d swung the blade through her neck. He swallowed hard.

“I might,” he said, and held his arms a little out from his body. “How long can I contain this much raw aggression, you know?”

“Stop," Cassie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, okay, just tell me what your job is.”

“Is it really worth your life?” Dean asked, putting on his most serious face.

“You’re really trying to tell me you’re, what – a spy? A fed?” Cassie asked. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to believe that. With that face?”

“Hey,” Dean said, mock-offended, as they passed closed-up stores and parking bays. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, “that’s literally the problem. The FBI don’t hire people who look like you, do they? This is real life, not HBO.”

“Okay,” Dean said, his face working not to look too pleased. Underfoot, the pavement was shiny with ice. Dean started to walk a little slower. “So, if this isn’t the face of a fed, what is it the face of?”

“Mmm. Radio show host?” Cassie laughed when Dean threw her a look. “Well, c’mon, how am I supposed to know? Third date and you still won’t tell me?”

“Just trying to keep the mystery alive,” Dean said, faking an absent kind of tone in the hope that Cassie would drop the subject. The sidewalk was getting more and more treacherous, each of his steps sliding just a little.

“The mystery is too alive,” Cassie said. “It could die a bit. I’d be okay with that.”

“Whoa… careful.” Dean’s foot slipped out from under him, and he only managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto a parking meter that happened to be close by.

“Easy, big shot.” Cassie watched him start to move again, even more tentatively. “Wouldn’t wanna lose the deal with HBO if you fall on that perfect face.”

There was an edge of hurt to her tone of voice, and Dean jaw tightened. Was he ever going to tell her, he wondered. Surely not. She’d hate it. Spending time with Cassie was like visiting a parallel universe. That world didn’t have room for monsters under the bed.

And so Dean kicked them back underneath as hard as he could, and smiled at Cassie, and held out his hand.

Cassie looked down at it, and then back up at him.

“Really?” she said, a smile waiting at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s slippery,” Dean said, and wiggled his fingers temptingly.

“Yeah,” Cassie said with a laugh, pushing his hand away, “it is, asshole. That’s why I’m not letting you take me down with you.”

––––-

And now Dean was thirty-one years old and watching a soccer game, gloves on, hat on, clapping along with the dark-haired woman next to him.

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

“Like we practised, okay, kid?” Dean added, and watched Ben’s face relax into concentration as he placed the ball for his free kick, just a yard outside the penalty box.

“You practised free kicks with him?” Lisa said to Dean, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. Dean glanced down at her; she had her eyes on her son, but there was a little smile on her face.

“A couple times,” Dean said. “He asked.”

“That’s sweet. And I thought you two just watched TV and ate too much pizza together.”

“We do that too,” Dean said. “When I have a say in it.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. On either side of Lisa and Dean, also at the edge of the soccer pitch, were other parents all waiting on Ben to take his kick. They were standing on wet grass, a few of them stamping their feet to keep them from going numb.

Ben took a short run up, swung his leg, made contact. The ball sailed high, dipped – and the goalie caught it neatly.

“Next time,” Dean called out when Ben’s face fell, and gave him a clap. The game played on.

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

Lisa looked up at him, her big brown eyes soft.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“... Right.” Dean smiled awkwardly. Lisa’s would-be compliment hung in the air, sounding more incongruous the longer Dean stood tense and unmoving.

Lisa reached out, and put her hand on his folded arms.

“You wanna order in, tonight?” she said lightly. “Or I could make fajitas.”

“I can cook,” Dean said. “I’ll make burgers.”

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

Some small burst of relief, there. Dean’s expression eased. He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his chin, as though remembering the role he was playing. Who he was, now.

He shifted his feet – and felt his right foot slide, almost right out from under him. He steadied himself, hands out to the sides, looking down at the grass.

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

“Come here,” Lisa said, holding out her hand.

Dean smiled.

“It’s all good,” he said, reaching out and giving the hand a squeeze, and then letting go quickly.

“Can’t have the head chef breaking his arm,” Lisa said, her hand still out.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

Her expression allowed no argument. Unwillingly, Dean allowed her to loop their arms together, Lisa pinning Dean to her side and turning back to the game, calling out to support Ben as he went for a tackle. Dean stood quietly. He was having to lean down ever so slightly so that Lisa could keep his arm tucked under hers.

He tried very hard not to move. Just the smallest slide of his feet and he’d be over and he’d take her with him. Every muscle in his legs was clenched, forcing himself not to slip.

After just a minute or so of stiff silence, Lisa sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

And now Dean was forty-one years old and walking down a street in Lebanon, Kansas, on legs that still felt a little new. The cold air was harsh; he took in a deep breath.

He went to cross the road, and a car gave a screech as it swerved suddenly to avoid him. The driver made a few different gestures at him through the window, and Dean held up a hand in apology.

It was easy to forget that things didn’t part and make way on Earth like they had done in Heaven.

“Couldn’t fix that for me, could you?” Dean said aloud. “Not that I’m not grateful for the ticket home, Cas, but Heaven had its perks.”

Silence. Dean kept walking, with only the slightest slump to his shoulders and crease on his brow. Lebanon was wearing snow like a big white coat. Dean’s boots crunched in it when he stepped off the gritted path to let a mother with a stroller go by.

“I should probably stop expecting to see you round every corner, huh,” he said. “Been a week now. And I keep wandering around thinking you might show up just ‘cause I’m looking.” Someone passing gave him a slightly frightened look and a wide berth as he walked by, talking to himself. Just another thing no one had much noticed in Heaven: the prayers. Dean frowned, and ducked his head. Tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked quietly for some time.

Long enough for his hands to come back out of his pockets, and his shoulders to lose their self-conscious hunch. Long enough for the hurt in his eyes to seem nearer the surface.

“Might not even have been you that got me out of Heaven,” Dean said, his tone quiet, as though picking up the thread of a half-finished conversation.

A pause, in which he walked. Passed by other people, made no eye contact. Dean meandered a little as he went, as though his mind were elsewhere.

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” he said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me,” he said. The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

He swallowed.

“It feels like I have to do something, though.”

He kept walking.

“Or, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to.”

He breathed out.

Emotions were crossing his face, too fast to catch one alone, too swift to parse. He looked down at his feet, watching where he stepped.

“If I had what I wanted,” he said, “you’d be here.” After a pause, he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s news to you. Like, wow, right? Not as though I’ve ever asked, after all.” Another silence, and then he said, “But you know, I – it’s not that I just want to… fix it, or… finish things off. It’s not… I’m not…” He pressed his lips together, smiled wryly. “Jesus. I hope you can’t hear this. I’m not making any sense. I’m just trying to say, I want you here, man. I want you here to stay.”

A little flicker of light seemed to touch Dean’s eyes.

“You could stay now,” he said, “right? You could actually stay. If you wanted to. And we could…” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

A car drove by, and the child in the backseat stared out the window at him. Dean blinked back to reality.

“We didn’t have time to think about what we wanted,” he said into the quiet of the parking lot, when the car had passed and he was walking again. “All this time. Or maybe you did. But I didn’t.” He looked upwards, towards the iron sky. “And now there’s time, Cas, and all I’m thinking about is you.” He looked down. “I said that already.”

He moved on, stepping out the other side of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“I remember you said that the… the thing you want, you can’t have.” Dean took in a breath and let it go. “I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t. Whatever it is, man, you deserve it.”

His feet carried him onward.

“You gotta be sick of hearing me talk at this point. But I just…” Dean’s eyes glanced over the snowy Lebanon street in front of him, and he crossed the road. “I just want you here. Maybe I should take a damn hint.” His voice strained, hurt betraying the attempt at levity in his tone. “But you said… I keep thinking back on what you said. About how you feel. And I, uh. You know. If you’d just let me…”

Dean lifted his hands, a little helplessly, into the air as he walked, as though wanting to give something invisible to someone who wasn’t there. He dropped them awkwardly, his expression creasing.

He was circling back around towards the mall, his footsteps pointing him towards home. He looked heavy, weary. The lines on his face were deep, and his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

The people around him paid him no attention. He was just part of the crowd. They swirled across his path and around him, irrelevant to him, not seeing him. Except –

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

Twenty feet away from him, standing completely still, was a figure. Not struggling with carrier bags or strollers or wallets and keys like the other shoppers going into and out of the mall. Utterly stone still.

Tall, almost as tall as Dean. Wearing a long coat. Brown-haired. Impassive.

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

And Dean visibly blossomed. His mouth fell slightly open, his shoulders loosened, one hand reached out unconsciously.

“Cas?” he said, disbelieving – and Dean saw a slight smile appear on Castiel’s face, and the angel slightly raised one hand in greeting.

Warmth touched Dean’s eyes, rising up as though from a great depth. He began to move, at first taking care on the slippery sidewalk. But his feet hurried him, and he was walking fast and then he was almost running, caution forgotten, eyes on Castiel’s.

It was when he was only a few steps away that his foot hit a patch of black ice. His arms went out, struggling to balance him – Castiel moved forward, one hand out – Dean reached for him on instinct, grasping his arm, his body relaxing in obvious expectation of Castiel being able to pull him upright –

But Castiel’s weight tilted along with Dean’s, and the ground gave them both a hard and cold welcome. There were some muttered ooohs from people passing by, and a few of them came to awkward stops nearby.

Dean landed hard on his back, head hitting the cement. He stared for a moment up at the sky. It had all happened very fast.

He sat up, and saw Castiel kneeling beside him, inspecting his own hands.

“Fuck,” Dean said. He put a hand to the back of his head. No blood.

“Are you okay?” said someone behind Dean, and he waved them off.

“All good,” he said, seeing in his peripheral vision that the people who’d stopped to look were moving on. He looked at Castiel. “Are you… you’re…”

Castiel stopped staring down at his hands, and looked at Dean instead. His blue eyes searched Dean’s face. Under his gaze, Dean smiled – a smile that grew on his face from a tiny brightness in his eyes until his whole face was alight with it.

“It’s you,” he said. "Damn, Cas, it's really you."

“It’s me,” Castiel confirmed. His voice held a recognition of Dean’s smile, a reciprocal warmth.

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded. He was breathing a little fast. His gaze searched Castiel’s face, partly seeming to be looking for something, partly seeming already to have found it. People were stepping around them to get inside the mall.

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

“But you know,” Dean added, “you could’ve just appeared right next to me instead of a whole freaking mile away on a slippery sidewalk. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Ah.” Castiel, still on his knees beside where Dean was sitting, dropped his gaze. “That was, in fact, not under my control. Jack sent me down here. After I asked him to do something for me.”

Castiel looked down at his hands again, and this time Dean looked too. His expression broke into slight surprise when he saw red on Castiel’s palms, at the sight of the blood – and then the surprise came in a second, deeper wave, as realisation hit.

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

“But you – you’re – that’s not supposed to happen,” Dean said. He reached out, and took Castiel’s hands in his own, inspecting the little scrapes on the skin. “You can’t get hurt like this.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

“But you’re…” Dean stared at Castiel, seeming suddenly caught in consternation.

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

Wide-eyed, still sitting on the sidewalk, Dean took this in. Something light crossed his face, then anger, then confusion.

“I heard you,” Castiel reminded him. Dean stared at him.

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

Despite the hustle of people around them, the crunch-crunch of their boots in the snow and the harshness of their voices, Dean and Castiel might have been the only two people in the world when Castiel said,

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, but – before, in the bunker, with the Empty, when you said – the thing – the thing you said you wanted –”

Castiel looked down at their hands. Dean’s holding Castiel’s.

Dean tightened his grip.

“Just that?” he said, his voice sounding thick.

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

They stared at each other. Hands in hands, touching, Castiel bleeding. Dean didn’t let go.

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

“You mean…” Castiel’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You mean that you…”

“Since pretty much day one. I just never thought you’d want that from me.”

The world moved past and around them. They didn’t notice. Castiel was radiating happiness in every body line, though he was unmoving. Dean was watching him as though afraid he might disappear in the space of a blink.

"Is this real?" he said. "My head hurts enough for it to be real."

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

After enough time under the steadiness of Castiel’s gaze, it seemed finally to sink in for Dean – the truth of it, the reality of it. Dean breathed out.

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he gave a nod made small by emotion.

“Oh. I’m sorry, though,” Dean said, his eyes catching on Castiel’s small injuries now that he was looking down again. His thumb lightly touched the place where blood was drying on Castiel’s palm. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have run at you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, getting to his feet and pulling Dean up with him, their hands not letting go.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said, his blood on Dean’s hands, and still holding them. “Don’t be.”

[curlynerd]

You're Bacon Me Crazy Word Count: 2K Rating: T Summary: "I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!" Or, Dean comes out through complicated burger metaphors. Notes: humor, canon-adjacent, coming out, established Destiel, #pray4Sam

Also read on AO3!

"You're really having two burgers, Dean?" Sam asks in his most smug, most obnoxious "I’m eating kale for lunch" voice. Dean really hates that voice.

Dean straightens his back and spreads his hands out, like the two wrapped burgers, the extra large fries, and the soda with two straws are a majestic bounty. “I’m a growing boy, Sammy."

“Uh-huh,” Sam deadpans. He lifts the takeout lid of his salad and starts carefully drizzling the vinaigrette cup over his bed of leafy greens and grilled chicken. “And you’re definitely not going to bully Cas into splitting them with you? You know he doesn’t need to eat.”

Something tight and anxious curls in Dean’s chest. “No!” he blurts out, realizing a second too late that it’s normal for him to share his food with Cas. Just because he’s been doing it more now that he and Cas are finally together does not mean that it’s weird now.

In response to Dean’s defensiveness, Sam raises a self-righteous eyebrow in sync with his salad-laden fork. “Can he even really taste them? I thought he didn’t like food in angel mode.”

Dean swallows down a multitude of answers. He likes sharing the experience with Cas anyway. He thinks the way his face scrunches up at the molecules is cute. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside that an angel -- his angel -- is willing to put up with something so silly and mundane and human as taste-testing different burgers.

He really, really needs to tell Sam the truth about him and Cas. Hell, he’s been trying to for months! But every time the perfect opportunity presents itself, he turns into a fuckin’ coward.

And today definitely is another perfect moment. The conversation has naturally turned to Cas. They’re sitting at a picnic table at the park, with nobody around to overhear Dean spill his guts in the most agonizing and uncomfortable way possible. They’re working a case, so immediately after the conversation Dean can bury himself in research and hunting and not have to deal with Sam’s big, obnoxious “let’s make a huge deal out of this!” puppy dog eyes. And Cas isn’t even here right now to make things more awkward. He’s still checking out the victim at the coroner's office across the street.

Dean tries not to think about what a big baby he’s being by ignoring this golden opportunity. “He just tastes stuff different as an angel. He’s learning how to pick out the nuance.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Because there’s so much nuance to ‘extra cheese’ or ‘hold the tomato.’”

“Oh like you’d know, Mr. Tofu Burger.”

“You’d eat a burger off the floor. Are you really trying to convince me you care about what kind of burger it is?”

Dean huffs and levels an indignant glare at his brother. “I absolutely have a favorite burger.”

“Then why’d you get two different kinds?”

"I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!"

Sam snorts. "That's just an excuse to eat more burgers." He spears a forkful of tomato and spinach with a smug little twinkle in his eye.

"It's so not," Dean insists. He gestures at the two wrapped foil rounds in front of him. “These are two unique burgers that both have their own delicious qualities.”

“Really?” Sam’s expression is so pompous Dean kind of wants to throw a french fry at it. Except that would be a waste of a perfectly good fry.

“Yes ‘really.’ Look--” Dean carefully unwraps his first burger. “This is a pickle burger. And not just any ol’ pickle burger. The best, most amazing, and -- dare I say it? -- sexiest pickle burger in the entire continental US.” He smirks as Sam rolls his eyes. “Now I can tell by that condescending look in your eye, you’re wondering, ‘What the hell is so special about a pickle burger? It’s just pickles!’ But that’s where you’re wrong.” Dean lifts the top bun and points down to the burger, looking almost gleeful at all its toppings. “Fried pickles, pickled red onions, relish…Sour and sweet and crunchy, the perfect compliment to a juicy, meaty burger. And one this big? You’ve gotta have a little something special to handle all this meat.” Sam tilts his head, his mouth twitching like Dean said something embarrassing. Was it waxing poetic about vegetables? Probably. Dean chooses to ignore it.

“Ya know,” he continues, “for the longest time I didn’t think I’d like a pickle burger. For years I’d be at diners and think, ‘...maybe? I dunno. Probably not for me.’” Dean pulls his mouth down into a thoughtful frown and bobs his head to mimic his past thoughts. “And then...I’m not sure, I just figured, why not at least try it? All those burgers I’ve had all over the country; I could at least give it a whirl. And it. Was. Awesome!” Dean gently places the bun back on his burger and gives it a little affectionate pat. “Now I can’t get enough of ‘em.”

Sam's expression does a complicated dance that Dean can't even begin to follow. But it suddenly clears into a look of dawning realization, followed quickly by horrified guilt, before it clamps down entirely.

Weird.

"Well...I can't fault someone for enjoying a good pickle burger," Sam says slowly. He doesn't meet Dean's eye, keeping his gaze down as he delicately stabs at his salad with his fork. He frowns at the cucumber slice he spears and carefully dislodges it from the prongs. "Especially if they really like, uh, pickles?" Sam cringes a little down at his greens. Dean can't blame him. It's a sad looking salad.

"Exactly!" Dean gestures down at the burger. "I'm a meat man and a pickle guy." Sam looks up toward the sky and then down toward the ground below with a sort of pleading desperation. "This is a great burger for me. And don't even get me started on the sauce--"

"Okay!" Sam's voice pitches up several octaves. Dean frowns at him, but before he can ask, Sam takes a deep breath and plasters a warm, understanding smile across his face. "You know what? You're right, Dean. After all this time. All those, uh...burgers. I'm glad you've figured out which one you like best."

"Well, not quite. I mean, this one…" Dean carefully unwraps the second burger. "Is there anything sexier than a breakfast burger?" He practically beams down at the golden-brown bun, the fringes of fried egg drooping over the side, crisp bacon peeking out from under the patty.

"I...I don't know?" Sam has the same terrified expression as when Dean drags him onto ramshackle roller coasters at crappy county fairs. God, he's such a baby about cholesterol.

“Yeah. C’mon, you know they’re great!” Dean says cavalierly, because he’s not going to miss a chance to gloat about the awesome food Sam misses out on with all his salads. “Bacon is, you know, bacon! It’s the best tasting thing in the world! Salty, greasy, crunchy…”

Sam’s brow furrows so deeply it’s like it’s mining for coal, his unfocused eyes searching the empty space between them like he’s trying to figure out the deep, dark mystery of bacon.

Dean rolls his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t understand. The dude eats low sodium turkey bacon. "I know you haven't had good, real bacon in ages--" Sam looks offended. Then confused. Then offended again. "--but trust me, man. It's awesome. When ya got bacon in your burger, it automatically makes the burger a hundred times better. Can’t get enough of it!” Sam groans like he's in pain.

Dean grins and keeps going. “And you’ve gotta admit, a fried egg is a thing of beauty. Give me a good silky, drippy egg all over my burger and I’m a happy guy.” Sam’s nose scrunches up into abject horror. “You get that gorgeous, soft yolk oozing everywhere...It’s creamy and delicious and unctuous and--”

“Dean!” Sam shrieks. He lets his fork fall into his bowl and covers his face with both his hands. His voice is muffled, but it’s definitely a tormented whine. “I know this is a tough topic for you, but can you please just say you’re bi and never use words like ‘unctuous’ again? I’m begging you!”

Dean freezes. “Wh-What?” Did Sam really--? He--? How does he know?!

Sam pops up from his elbows, dragging both hands through his hair as he frees his face from hiding. “I get it, dude. Okay? I get it. I mean...I don’t get it.” He glances down at the two burgers with a perturbed look and holds up his hands in surrender. “But I get it.”

Dean stares at him. “Get what?” he demands. His heart is pounding fast. Bi. Sam knows he’s bi. When did he figure it out?! Why’s he bringing it up now?!

Sam fixes him with a flat look. “The burgers? The...God...bacon sex metaphor? The pickle guy thing? I get it. Please. Please stop talking about eggs like that. I’ll never eat an omelette again!”

Sex metaphors? Pickle guy?! Dean takes a moment to think and...yeah. Yup. He really did say “I’m a pickle guy,” out loud. Wow.

Maybe he should just...roll with it?

Because otherwise Sam is definitely going to mock him for that for the rest of his life, and honestly, coming out is the much better option.

“You got me,” Dean says with a small laugh. He spreads his arms out with a bit of a flourish, and it’s a relief to say it. It feels good. “What can I say? I like all kinds of burgers. And hotdogs. Tacos. Kielbasa...”

“Please stop,” Sam groans, rubbing at his eyes with his hand.

Oh yeah, this is definitely the better option. Dean fell ass-backwards into a conversation he’s been dreading for months, and the only person feeling awkward and miserable here is Sam!

Really it’s a win-win.

Dean grins from ear to ear as he relishes Sam’s mortification. “Hey now, I thought you were supportive! What happened to ‘I’m happy for you and your burgers?’”

“I am happy for you, I just wish this wasn’t happening over lunch…” Sam whines as he drops his hands on the table.

“What’s Sam happy about?” Cas asks, startling the both of them by approaching their picnic table. His eyes are earnest and sincerely curious, which only causes Sam to send a miserable, pleading look his way while shaking his head.

“Sam thinks pickles are gay,” Dean says to Cas with the same sort of smug glee of the teacher’s pet tattling about note passing in class.

Cas scrunches his face in confusion as he sits down beside Dean. “Sam, that’s...nonsensical.”

“That’s what I said!” Dean lies, because the way Sam’s eyebrow is twitching right now is too damn funny. “Wait til you hear what he thinks about bacon.”

Sam drops his face into his hands again. “This is the worst day of my life,” he groans as he massages his temples with his fingers.

Cas furrows his brow at him. “You’ve been to Hell.”

“And I’m still there, apparently!” Sam flings his hand up in exasperation. Cas quietly takes a sip of Dean’s drink, which for some reason just pisses Sam off more.

“You know, you could have just been normal about this. No weird, gross food metaphors. Just--” Sam drops his voice several octaves and bobs his head in a deliberately annoying parody of Dean. “--‘Hey Sam, by the way, I’m bi and totally in love with Cas, no big deal,’ or whatever.”

Dean goes still while Cas tilts his head at the two of them.. “Who says I’m in love with Cas?” Wait. Is that obvious too? Shit, well, looks like he gets to rip two bandaids off today. Thank God for the hilarious panic on Sam's face, because otherwise Dean would be the one freaking out here.

Sam’s eyes go huge, all color draining out of his face. “Oh shit. I didn’t-- I’m sorry, I--”

Dean can only manage to maintain the ruse for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Where have you been, man? Cas and I have been together for ages. I thought you were the smart one!”

Sam looks like he wants to leap across the picnic table and strangle Dean.

With a glare so sour it could peel paint, Sam snatches Dean’s extra large order of french fries and storms off toward the car to sulk. About three paces away, he stops, turns around, and levels a stern finger at Dean alongside his scowl. “For the record. I’m proud of you. And I’m honored you chose to trust me with this information,” he hisses in a frustrated huff before he spins on his heel and marches away.

Dean wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling under his breath. Cas stares after Sam in concern.

“Why is he so mad?”

Dean shrugs off the question as he slides the pickle burger in front of Cas and nudges him with his elbow to try it. “Hell if I know. If you ask me, dude needs to have a burger every once in awhile.”

[huggybearsunshine]

Can I Ask You a Question..? [Part 2]

Dean sat on the bed, passing the phone from hand to hand and staring at the wall, thoughts everywhere at once.

“This is stupid,” he flung the phone back onto the bed behind him.

He tried to turn on the tv, but was met with static on the ancient screen. As if the room itself were mocking him.

With a heavy sigh, he fell back onto the bed, his phone hitting his shoulder like a reminder of the task he was supposed to be completing but wasn’t.

“Fuck,” he scooped it up and pulled the name up on the screen, “This is ridiculous.”

He hit the button before he could think more on it, but his heart thudded hard against his chest when Cas’ voice rumbled out.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas… hey,” he rubbed a hand over his mouth nervously and sat up again, finding it hard enough to breathe even without the added pressure of laying back.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas went suddenly serious, not that he wasn’t the majority of the time anyway.

“Yeah, um… no, actually… Cas, can I…” he rubbed his eyes, mortified by how little control he seemed to have over the shake in his voice, “Can I ask you a question..?“

“Of course,” he could hear the furrow in his brow and knew there was an accompanying confused squint.

‘Just do it,’ Dean’s inner voice pushed, ‘Blame it on a spell or something if it goes wrong…’

A good idea, he realized, and took a deep and steadying breath in preparation.

“Do you… ever think about… us?”

The line on the other end went deathly quiet, “…Us?”

“Like you and me, us…” Dean cringed at every other word that came out.

“I don’t understand,” Cas admitted, tone deepened by uncertainty.

“Of course you don’t…” the hunter sighed at himself.

“What is this about?” the Angel asked softly.

“Do you know what a Qareen is?” Dean finally asked, face fully in his hands while his elbows rested against his knees.

“Yes, Aramaean and Arabian…” Cas spoke thoughtfully, “A shape-shifter and mind-reader…”

“Yeah, takes the form of your deepest, darkest desire…” Dean added, sounding almost absentminded.

“What’s happened, Dean?” Cas’ voice dropped even lower.

He was scaring a millennia old celestial being, and that in itself shook Dean to his core.

“It turned into you,” he finally forced out the words that would bridge the gap even for Cas, “When it came to me, it… looked like you.”

“Me…” was all Cas’ failing mind would provide.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out in a quick puff of air.

“Where are you?” the Angel asked with such authority, Dean was certain he was angry.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. Disgust maybe. Pity even. But not anger.

His location was out of his mouth without hesitation and then the line went dead and the screen faded to black in his hand.

“Shit,” he let the phone drop to the floor, “Fuck!“

He stomped down onto the phone and the resulting crunch of boot on plastic and glass was satisfying, but the anger and regret were only just starting to bubble.

He stomped out of the room only to realize that his brother had the Impala.

So plan B it was.

He reached the front desk, shoving the door violently out of his way as he entered.

“Nearest liquor store,” he bit out.

“Bout a mile down the road,” the offended attendant spat back, “That way.”

“Thanks,” Dean said the words but they sounded far from sincere as he left with the same attitude he entered with.

It took practically no time to get there.

Probably due to the mounting nervous energy pushing him forward. He grabbed a handle of whiskey and slapped the money on the counter, oblivious to the flirtation the woman at the counter had offered him, and was just as quickly on his way back.

He slugged the liquor down the whole way back, telling himself over and over how stupid it was to talk to Cas, and thus making himself more and more angry with the person who’d suggested it.

“Talk to Cas! He feels the same way!” he exploded as he burst into the room, “Real great advice there, Sammy!”

But the room was empty.

Then he noticed food on the table near the window and a note scribbled onto a napkin next to it.

He crossed and snatched it up, reading the words aloud.

“Got another room,” in his brother’s handwriting, and then beneath, “Don’t screw it up.”

“Too late,” he crumbled the note up and dropped it back onto the table before fishing out the burger inside and biting into it aggressively.

He fell back onto the bed with complete disregard for his dirty boots hitting the comforter.

Setting his bottle down so he could snatch up the remote and put on something mindless, he kept eating the burger until it was gone. Then the whiskey took its place again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there like that before there was a knock at the door.

“What did you forget? To screw up my life even more?” he flung the door open, bottle still in hand, but froze at the sight of the Angel standing there instead of his giant little brother, “Cas.”

“I’ve been calling,” he looked practically beside himself and couldn’t make eye contact for more than a second or so at a time.

“Kinda broke my phone,” Dean answered, slack jawed and having the opposite problem than Cas.

He couldn’t pull his eyes away if his life depended on it.

“Thought you were mad,” he added softly.

“Mad?“ Cas’ brow knitted tightly together, “Why would I be mad?”

Dean shrugged wordlessly, continuing to stare dumbly.

“Can I come in?” Cas finally asked, looking around him at the row of identical doors to each side.

“Yeah,” Dean slid out of the way and ran his hand over his face as his back turned to the Angel.

He pushed the door closed before his eyes found the other man again.

“Can I?” Cas’ eyes trailed down to the bottle.

“This?” Dean held it up, “Sure-“

Cas was already taking it from him and turning it upside down against his lips as the more than half a bottle that remained disappeared.

“Sorry,” he replied as he set the bottle on the table.

“Wow,” the word fell out unbidden.

“Your Qareen…” Cas wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Looked like me.”

“Yeah,” Dean admitted seriously.

“Why?” Cas pressed, now staring just as intensely as Dean.

“You know how it works,” the hunter pushed past him evasively, “Lore’s pretty clear…”

“I’m your…”

“Deepest desire… apparently,” Dean threw his arms out as he turned.

“I think I must be misunderstanding something,” Cas looked completely overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Dean was practically overflowing with self-hatred, “Sam thought… it doesn’t matter what Sam thought- Cas, it’s fine. I get it.”

“What did Sam think?” Cas stepped forward on uncertain feet.

“He thought… you… felt like that too,” Dean wanted to throw up, “It was stupid…”

“And what if I did?” another step.

“If you-“

“Felt that way,” Cas chanced yet another step, now far too close, but Dean wasn’t moving away or telling him to stop.

Dean swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing almost painfully against the dryness there, “Do you?”

He nodded softly and Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

“Oh…” he licked his lip and Cas’ eyes trailed the motion, “Shit.”

“What do we do now?” the Angel looked at him in near panic.

“Um…” Dean tried desperately to get his brain to kick back into gear, “I uh… w-what do you want to do?”

“You’re asking me?” Cas’ breath puffed out against his skin.

“Yeah,” Dean’s eyes tracked the other man’s face, uncertain of where they wanted to settle, “I want to know.”

“Could we…” Dean’s body swayed forward at the near growl in Cas’ voice, “Could we just be here together… Without having to pretend…”

“Yeah,” Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realize he’d held, “What do you wanna do?”

“Let’s watch one of those cowboy movies you like so much…” Cas looked as though he were afraid of the suggestion.

Like they hadn’t done that a million times, but maybe he wasn’t afraid of the movie, but what might follow.

———————

@destiel-wings @destieliscanon5nov

[expectingtofly]

What It Means to Love, 3k

established dean/cas, hurt/comfort, post 15x20, human!cas

day 2 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: hurt/comfort

“Dean, I am perfectly fine, I—” Cas paused, face scrunching up, then he sneezed before he could finish his sentence.

Dean took a step backwards. “Dude, gross! Seriously? Sneeze into your elbow. That’s like preschool 101.”

“Oh, then it’s so great that I went to preschool,” Cas said, managing to sound sarcastic even with his nose stuffed up. Dean winced as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his trenchcoat. “It’s not like I haven’t been a human for only three months.”

Right. “Yeah, well, guess this is the perfect introduction." How the hell did Cas manage to still look so adorable slumped against the kitchen counter, clothes wrinkled and nose red? “Welcome to humanity, you have a cold. Here, stop that.” He couldn't watch Cas wipe his nose on his sleeve again. They didn’t have tissues in the kitchen, but he grabbed a napkin and handed it to him. Dutifully, Cas took it and blew his nose. “What you need is to get in some comfier clothes, lay down, and get some sleep.”

Violating the few feet he'd put between them to stay clear of the germs, he stepped closer to loosen Cas' tie. Cas let him, saying, "I can still help research—"

"No, no." Cas leveled him with a glare, but it had lost its bite now that Dean knew he couldn't strike him dead with his angel grace. Okay, it was still pretty menacing. "I'm trying to save your ass. Sam will kill you if you sneeze on his laptop or precious books. Come on, take off the coat, you gotta be burning up."

He was helping Cas slip it off when Sam walked into the kitchen. “Ew, gross," he complained, covering his eyes with his hand, and Dean realized he was essentially undressing Cas in front of the kitchen island. "Get a room."

"Grow up," Dean said, draping Cas' coat and tie over his arm. Okay, so maybe they’d given Sam a reason to be on-guard now, but, "It's not what it looks like."

Sam lowered his hand, then frowned at Cas. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"I'm sick," Cas answered, as if that wasn't obvious enough by his glassy eyes and disheveled appearance.

"Well, uh, wash your hands," Sam said, stepping back as Cas started for the door, Dean following. "Don't wanna spread any germs. And try to stay out of the library."

"Told you," Dean whispered to Cas as they went down the hallway. In their room, he gestured for Cas to sit on the bed as he rummaged through their dresser. “T-shirt and sweatpants,” he said, handing them over.

Cas unbuttoned his white button-down which was identical to the dress shirts he always wore as an angel. Apparently old habits died hard—in this case, an affinity for business casual. Actually, maybe Cas getting sick and out of his old clothes was a good thing. Dean didn't know the last time the trenchcoat had been washed.

Collecting Cas' shirt and pants, he said, “I’ll get rid of these disease-ridden clothes.” He thought he caught Cas rolling his eyes as he pulled Dean’s sweatshirt over his head. "You watch TV or something, I’ll go see if we have cold medicine.”

After starting a load of laundry and raiding the medicine cabinets in the bathroom and cabinets in the kitchen, he returned to the room to find Cas sitting cross-legged under the covers of the bed, remote in his hands.

“Here, you go,” Dean said, handing over a warm mug. Ancient Aliens played on the TV; one of Cas' favorite pastimes was refuting every crazy claim and theory the show presented with his own recollections of the ancient times. “Sam said this tea will help. He ran out to get some medicine.”

Eagerly, Cas took the mug from him and took a large gulp, then coughed. "Ow. It's hot."

"Drink it slowly, idiot."

Cas took a more hesitant sip, then squinted up at him. "This tea is incredibly flavorless."

Dean snorted. "’Cause your nose’s clogged up. And you probably burned your tongue. Another joy of being human."

Groaning, Cas dropped his head back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Why is being human so difficult?"

Dean inwardly winced at that. Or thought he did so inwardly, but his expression must've revealed something because Cas glanced over at him, then straightened up, nearly spilling his tea. "Dean, I didn't mean anything by that."

Clearing his throat, Dean shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "No, it's fine. You're right, being human sucks."

"And I wouldn't trade it for the world," Cas said.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Cas seemed about to say more, but then he sneezed. Into his elbow this time. Progress.

Ancient Aliens finished, and they got halfway through an episode of UFO Hunters before Cas started to nod off. Dean took the mug from him, and his eyes fluttered open, head jerking up. "I'm fine," he said.

"I know you're tired because you missed them saying aliens created the lost city of Atlantis."

Cas sniffled. "That's ridiculous. Everyone knows Atlantis was formed by—" He was interrupted by a yawn, and Dean made a mental note to return to that subject later.

“Come on, take a nap.”

“I am not a small child, Dean,” Cas protested, but he settled down anyway. Dean couldn’t resist adjusting the covers, essentially tucking him in. He wasn’t trying to baby him, but it was second nature seeing how miserable the guy looked. Turning off the lights, he went to the door. "You good? Need anything else?"

"No." Cas squinted one eye open to look at Dean over the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and, fuck, if he wasn't still the most beautiful man Dean had ever seen, even sick as a dog. "Thank you."

A tiny alarm went off in Dean's brain about germs, but he returned to the bed to kiss Cas on the forehead anyway. True love, and all that. God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Cas looked marginally better when he woke up from his nap. If marginally better meant pillow hair and pillow lines on his cheek. Well-rested, at least. He swallowed down the cold medicine Sam had brought home, complaining that he could taste enough to know the flavor was not, quote, "similar to anything occurring organically in nature."

"Whaddya wanna eat?" Dean asked him as he drained his glass of water. "And don't say PB and J," he added before Cas could speak.

Cas set his glass down on the nightstand and slid further down under the covers. "Anything that won't make my throat hurt more."

"My, uh, mom used to make me soup when I was sick."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Whatcha making?" Sam asked, coming into the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove and Dean snapped him with the towel.

"That's for Cas, back off."

"Wow," Sam said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Look at you."

"Look at me what?" Setting aside the pot lid, he scraped the celery he'd been dicing from the cutting board into the pot.

Sam shrugged. "Taking care of Cas, making dinner, you're almost domestic."

Dean turned red and scrambled furiously for a comeback. "Yeah, and you're, you're still a little shit." Nailed it.

Sam laughed. "Wasn't an insult. Just meant, I don't know. Different for you, I guess."

Dean eyed him, stirring the soup. "Don't have much of a choice. Poor guy just turned human and he's already going through it."

"I think he's dealt with worse than a cold before."

"Yeah, well, wish he didn't have to deal with any of it." Any of it meant plenty. Between Dean’s own fuckups, world apocalypses, and near-death and actual death experiences, Cas had been through the ringer several times over. And now he was human—which, by all counts, wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through, but it wasn’t ideal. It’d been a rough transition, anyway.

Cas seemed better recently, though, since getting somewhat used to being human. And things were going well between them. Getting sick was just one tiny wrinkle compared to everything they’d been through, right?

He stared at the soup and startled when Sam straightened off the counter with a comment that Jack was out with friends, he was leaving for Eileen’s, have fun giving Cas a sponge bath. Dean flipped him off as he headed out the door.

When the soup was finished, he ladled a bowl full and returned to the bedroom. Cas looked up from his phone when Dean entered with the bowl of steaming soup. “Hear from Claire?” Dean asked, nudging the door shut with his foot.

“She says she and Kaia have almost closed up the case." He set his phone aside. “They’ll be able to visit soon.”

“You tell her you’re sick?”

“She was incredibly non-sympathetic—thank you." Cas took the bowl from him. “She seemed to find it amusing that I once ruled garrisons and now can’t go five minutes without sneezing.”

Dean tensed, hoping Cas wasn’t hurt by the comparison, but Cas didn’t look offended. “Sounds like her.”

"Yes.” He breathed in the steam coming from the bowl. “This smells incredible.”

"Family recipe," Dean joked, sitting down next to him. "Well, someone's family. Straight from some blog online. Think it's pretty close to what my mom would make." He watched Cas pick up his spoon, and added, "Don't tell Sam." He'd never hear the end of it if Sam knew he was reading mommy blogs.

"Your secret is safe with me."

Dean picked up the remote as Cas ate, wondering if he should give Claire a piece of his mind. Sure, Cas was pretty easy-going about the whole giving up his grace thing, but no need to rub it in his face. Becoming human had to feel pretty pitiful after ages of being an angel.

He was trying to make it better where he could, though. “You wanna watch a movie tonight? I'll let you pick because you're bedridden."

"I am not," Cas protested, though he looked more than a little pleased at the idea of getting to choose. Dean braced himself for whatever ridiculous romance or musical Cas insisted on watching now—to date, he'd been subjected to La La Land , the ending of which had reduced Cas to tears for the rest of the night; Pride and Prejudice, okay not too bad, though he'd never admit it; and You’ve Got Mail, dammit not bad enough for him to hate either.

Instead of suggesting a movie, though, Cas said, "You're very caring, Dean."

"Uh." Dean turned from cycling through the movie options on the TV to look at Cas. He felt himself turn red under the look Cas was giving him, head tilted, that fond almost-smile he got. "Yeah, uh. What I do."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "It is what you do. You're very good at taking care of others."

"Oh, God, don't start that." By that, he meant the long compliments Cas so shamelessly gave him now, like he'd been storing them up for a long time and was finally able to hand them out. It was like the dam had broken that night when Billie and the Empty—

But he didn't want to think about that. Not when all the events since that day had led to Cas now sitting in bed blowing his nose, the trashcan by the bed overflowing with tissues. Poor bastard; he'd gone through one whole Kleenex box already.

"I'm only going to stop because talking hurts too much," Cas told him, tossing a tissue at the trashcan and missing sorely. Dean grimaced.

They nearly got through Mama Mia before Cas dozed off, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Dean’s arm was half-asleep, but he refused to move. The mere fact that they were sitting together in bed, pressed against each other, was still enough to send him into shock anytime he thought about it too much. Cas—a literal former angel—had fallen in love with him. It was almost too good to be true.

But Cas was currently slumped against him, drooling on his shoulder, so he guessed it really was true.

As the credits rolled, he turned off the TV and touched Cas’ forehead with the back of his hand. Not as warm as before. At his touch, Cas blinked awake.

“It’s over already?”

“Whaddya mean, already? I just had to sit through two hours of singing and dancing.” It hadn’t been that torturous, but he couldn’t admit that—he had a reputation to uphold. Straightening, Cas rolled his eyes. “Feel any better?"

Cas’ expression turned thoughtful, as if taking stock of every physical sensation in his body, and Dean had to grin at his seriousness. He nodded. "Yes."

"Great.” He glanced at the time on the clock and realized it was later than he’d expected. “You probably wanna get some rest.”

Cas nodded with a yawn. "You don't have to sleep here if you don't want to."

Dean froze in the middle of pulling back the covers, mind immediately spinning out. "What?" They'd only started sharing a room a month ago, oh God, he'd known it was too good to be true, Cas was sick of him—

"I want you to," Cas said quickly, as if sensing Dean's downward spiraling. "I just don't want you to get sick."

Oh. Oh. Feeling a little sheepish for immediately jumping to the worst conclusions—one of his greatest talents, if he did say so himself—he shook his head. "Nah, I have a great immune system."

Cas' expression turned guilty and Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"About that..." Cas started slowly. Dean gave him a look. "Well, uh... Your immune system isn't quite as healthy as you think. I've been giving it a boost for the past several years, every time you started to get sick."

"What?" Looking back, it was pretty remarkable that he'd never gotten even a common cold with all the other shit they dealt with. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. I should be thanking you. So, uh. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Of course Cas had been taking care of him for years, Dean thought, when they settled in bed and he turned off the lights. Cas told him he was caring, but it was Cas who was the caring one. He’d sacrificed his life for him, for Christ’s sake. Then gave up his grace to return to Earth because he wanted to be with Dean and Jack and Sam and everyone. The guy didn’t have a selfish bone in his body.

The thought should’ve been a comforting one, but instead he felt antsy, unable to stay still, shifting under the blankets.

Turning onto his side, he nudged Cas, whose eyes had fallen shut. With a grunt, Cas opened his eyes and looked over at him.

“You alright?” Dean asked, which wasn’t really what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I was when I was falling asleep,” Cas grumbled. But he shifted to face Dean. In the faint light coming from the bunker hallway, Dean could see the concern in his eyes. It sent a pang through him. Cas had given up so much, and Dean was doing all he could to make sure he never regretted it, and Cas told him all the time that he was content with his choice, but still the worry sat heavy in his stomach.

"Listen,” he started. “I just wanna let you know that being human isn’t all bad. I swear it won’t be miserable forever. I know you've been introduced to the bad shit first, but—"

"That's not true," Cas interrupted, touching Dean’s hand resting between them. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Dean, being human has been the single most rewarding experience in my entire life second only to raising Jack. It started with you rescuing me from the Empty and revealing my feelings weren't unreciprocated like I thought. I would say that's far from miserable.”

"Yeah, but you had to adjust to living without your grace, and eating food, and getting sick..."

"It's been difficult, yes. I won't lie and say I enjoy bodily functions or sneezing or headaches. But I do enjoy being with you and eating chicken soup and watching absurd TV shows. I wouldn't change this for anything. Whatever happened in our lives, it led us here. And I’m happy with where we are.” He studied Dean for a moment before asking, quieter, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, yeah, of course,” Dean hastened to say, because it was true. Fuck, it couldn’t be truer. “Of course. Just feel bad, I guess. That you gave up your grace and all that. Feel like I’ve hardly done anything.”

Castiel’s expression softened. “You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever dreamt of. And anyway, it’s not a competition, Dean. I take care of you, you take care of me. That’s what love is.”

Throwing that word around, love, still made Dean’s heart skip a beat. But it was true. He loved Cas and he’d do anything for him. The same, he knew, was true on Cas’ end.

Cas said it best, so he settled for lifting Cas’ hand and kissing his knuckles.

“I would kiss you," Cas said, smiling, "but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Screw it," Dean said, and propped himself up on an elbow to kiss him. Then he shifted, turning over and pulling Cas’ arm to wrap around him. Even if the bastard was sick, Dean was making him be the big spoon.

"For the record,” he said, feeling Cas curl around him. “I wouldn't change anything either."

And he meant it. Even when he woke up the next morning with a sore throat and stuffed up nose. Cas—who seemed to have gotten over the worst of his cold—took only one look at him before declaring it was his turn to play doctor, throwing extra blankets at him and demanding the chicken soup recipe in a flurry of activity.

He’d take care of Cas, and Cas would take care of him. It sounded like a good life, Dean thought, settling back against the pillows with a smile. He wouldn't change a thing.

[saturnseighthringg]

Day 15: Blue Skies and Apple Pies

A couple days late and a few dollars short, but here we are!

Cas drags Dean to the local farmers market and they have a sweet ass day.

Rating: G || Word Count: 873

A bunch of fluffing fluff is what this is... short and sweet as candy.

Read on AO3

“Dean I’m headed out!” Sam calls from the garage.

“Yea!” He calls back, feeling a little giddy at having the bunker to himself. With Cas. He wraps his arms around the ex angel from behind, dropping his head next to Cas’ ear. “So, what are we doing today, Angel?” He pretends to ponder for a few seconds before speaking again. “Cus, I have a few ideas.” He says suggestively.

Cas snorts. “Dean.” Cas says sweetly and Dean’s hopes are already dashed. That’s Cas’ I want something voice and truth be told, Dean was glad Sammy wasn’t around to see this because Dean was powerless to whatever was about to come out of his angel’s mouth. “It’s a beautiful day outside.” Cas says with a lot of emphasis.

Dean frowns even though Cas can’t see. “Yea, I suppose it is. I haven’t checked actually.”

“I have.” He says resolutely. “Do you remember what you promised for the next beautiful day that fell on a Saturday?” It was Saturday? Dean needs to keep track of the days better.

“Uh…” His brains scrambles to remember what he certainly promised to Cas. It’s a problem because Dean promises a lot of things to Cas. Usually without thinking it through.

“You promised we could go to the farmers market on the outskirts of the town.” He reaches his arm up to touch Dean’s head in a sweet way. Dean feels himself sag immediately, groaning internally like a toddler who didn’t get his way.

“I don’t wanna leave.” He whines, resting his face on Cas’ shoulder. It doesn’t last long.

Cas turns abruptly in his arms, fixing both hands to Dean’s face, holding him completely still. He looks like he’s about to argue, but suddenly the fight leaves him. “Its okay.” He says simply. “I won’t force you to do something you don’t want.” It’s said without malice and Cas definitely means it. It’s still a punch to the gut.

Guilt floods him immediately. He knocks his forehead against Cas’ and pulls Cas’ hands from his face to hold them. “I’m being a jerk, I’m sorry. Of course we can go.” He pulls back and the smile that graces his face is genuine. “I’m a man of my word, if anything.”

Cas smiles back and it’s like a flame ignites inside his chest. Well, re-ignites. His chest has been bursting since he and Cas finally got together months ago. He was determined to give his angel anything and everything he could. And taking him to the farmers market was just another opportunity to prove it.

The Lebanon farmers market is modest, without being too small. There’s a decent crowd and a decent amount of booths. There’s also a small pumpkin patch somebody set up for kids to run around in. Cas points out all of this to Dean even though Dean can clearly see it. It makes him laugh, full of affection.

Cas had been right. It was a gorgeous fall day. Blue sky stretched for miles and the temperature was literally perfect to walk around in Dean’s usual get-up of flannel and jeans. The air felt crisp as he breathed it in and Dean was suddenly really glad Cas had suggested this.

They go to every booth. Cas makes sure of it. “You never know what you might find.” Cas shrugs at him. So far, they’d found a vendor selling fresh honey; Cas had bought two jars, another selling hand made scented soaps; “Dean you could use an upgrade on what you consider body wash,” Cas had said to him. Dean won’t lie, he was slightly offended, but the stuff Cas picked out did have a nice relaxing scent to it. At another booth they found a classic selection of homegrown fruits and veggies. Cas selected a variety of the stuff, knowing Sam would be all too appreciative.

After half the day had passed of them milling around the market, Dean was starting to get wary. Mostly, he was hungry. He figures Cas picks up on this because without warning, he’d snatched Dean’s hand into his own and towed him over to a stand that Dean recognized on smell alone.

The smell of freshly baked pie hits him square in the stomach and it rumbles at the thought. Dean’s mouth waters, and he’s pretty sure the look on his face is something Claire calls heart eyes.

He can’t be bothered. Cas knows him so well.

They find an empty picnic table to eat at and Dean warns Cas to never tell a single soul that he shared his pie with him. Dean had an image to uphold, even when Cas complained. “Dean, there’s no way you could have eaten that all by yourself, anyway, whats it matter?”

“It matters!” He’d declared sharply.

The pie sits between them as they take turns stabbing it with their forks. Dean’s heart is as full as it’s ever been, looking at Cas from across the table. Cas smiles back at him, his mouth full of apple pie, and Dean needs an anchor. He reaches his hand across the table and Cas takes it willingly.

And there they sat, under blue skies, sharing an apple pie, just staring into each other’s eyes.

[ugh-againwiththenames]

Cursed Sn*per Thoughts

Misha, in his panel, said something very interesting at Denver con that I think was lost in translation (or certainly hasn’t been brought up enough while we're circling like vultures about CW snipers and poor word choices):

(you know what to do...below the cut)

"I'm not supposed to talk about that...” [waaait] “...it's not canon"

It's the ‘it's not canon’ that's the important part of that sentence (honestly, not the first time yesterday people missed the important part of the sentence). If we didn't know before, I think it's pretty clear now what the Sn*per was so intent on all those years about Misha not talking about Destiel (because it was not explicitly canon until 15x18) and this was the first con back since then - so NOW he's allowed to talk about the gay love confession but…He is NOT allowed to talk about what Cas is doing/feeling now that the show is over, because it isn't scripted/textual/CANON.  He’s not allowed to discuss Castiel in Heaven/the Empty because it’s NOT canon.  He CAN now talk about the confession – he CAN now talk about his love for Dean and he CAN now pontificate on when/how and what his feelings were/represented – because the confession, and its intention is now canon.  

Let's take this and transplant it to our other boy - THIS is why Jensen will always have to say "it's open for interpretation" (or some version of that) - why he cannot give an answer - it's not canon either way for him to answer and have a textual opinion (and 15x18 FUCKED him because he will - as a character - never get closure and NEVER be able to discuss it) - if he had said it back/or denied it in that episode, THEN we could ask those questions and he would be allowed to answer them. However, because canonically he never responded, it's up in the air (as his response would fucking suggest). Personally, I think this frustrates the hell out of him; I think he's trying so hard to come up with different ways of saying the same thing – but he's vastly limited in what he’s allowed to say. With Jensen continuing to work with WB through Chaos Machine, I find it very unlikely that he will purposefully break his NDA.  That’s a really slippery slope for him to navigate (without the added pressure of the damn fandom).

But Misha, Misha gave us a peak into the real issue (and I don’t think it’s the first time he’s done that either, I think he’s been trying to tell us for a while) - and it's not that they can't discuss Destiel, it's that they can't discuss anything that isn't textually canon, and so...this is an issue that is going to continue to come up at EVERY single con from here until we recognize that Jens cannot say anything different than what he has already.

Now! Something else to consider - Misha and Jensen are FINE. There is no animosity or tension between them - the body language alone this weekend proved that - do you really REALLY think, and I want you to think about this very very hard - do you think that if Jensen was slandering or avoiding Destiel in public for the fucking hell of it, Misha would be ok with that? That they haven't discussed this so much that they know each others' opinions on it very well? Do you THINK that Misha would be that close with someone who hates the idea of it? Lol guys - come the fuck on now and think this through (honestly lately I feel like this is my resting state in this fandom…think this through!).  Misha and Jensen are still flirty and cuddly and touchy – Jensen’s inability to discuss Destiel is not due to his discomfort at all, but due to the fact that his feelings (regardless of what he THINKS they are/would be) were not CANON.

Can we, please, come up with questions at cons, because (holy hell this is gonna be a repeat offender at EVERY con), can we PLEASE find ways to avoid asking questions about things that aren’t canon because that is, honestly, the first and most important reason we will not get the answers we want, and no amount of yelling about it is going to change that.

Here’s another can of worms for you…I don’t think there’s any blame to place here.  I don’t think that Creation is responsible for “silencing” Destiel now that I’m thinking about it (they have cut out those questions NOT so that they don’t get asked, but so that the actors don’t need to dance around answers that they cannot LEGALLY give) **striking this after the creation interruption during the Misha/AlCal panel** (and that’s ok, I can be wrong);  I do not think that TPTB are in any way WRONG about not wanting the actors in their show (their INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY) to think beyond what they’ve been written to do…I understand (please don’t cancel me) I UNDERSTAND that Jensen and Misha have knowledge of their characters and whether they think decisions were good or bad, and I KNOW that they have those characters in their pocket and are fully aware of how they think they would react/how they feel/what they would do or say – but that is NOT THEIR JOB (as much as we would like it to be, as much as the man who has played Dean/been Dean for 15 years should probably have been consulted in a number of places over the years...), he did not write the character, it is absolutely not his job to “become” that character and speak for him outside of canon in his day to day life.  He now owns (at least some of) the rights to Supernatural, so, shall we maybe just see what happens in the future when he’s allowed to take canon and OWN it himself?

Added note: I am literally just in the process of watching these panels – I listened live (if that wasn’t clear from the live blogging happening yesterday); I may have even more thoughts on this topic shortly – in fact, I probably will.  But for now, this is what I took out of yesterday’s panels. Body language proves an even larger tell in these issues (and so far, all I’ve seen are a few .gifs, a few photos etc.) and even from that small amount of available media it’s sooooooo clear what is happening there.