#with understanding destiel song

[sandgrassbagel]

if you think about it, dean is like orpheus. he tries to find a way to bring cas back, willing to bargain with whatever powers at be (chuck) to get him back. but moreso than that, dean looks back

despite knowing cas as dead in s13, the moment dean heard cas' voice on the phone, light shone on his face and he had hope again. he drove straight to cas' location without question. he "looked back" at cas, because he loves him

and in 15x19, despite having literally watched cas be taken by the empty in the episode prior, the moment dean gets that call from lucifer, he's on his feet and running several flights of stairs up to the door. once again, he "looks back"

the tragedy of orpheus and eurydice comes from orpheus looking back in every iteration because he loves her, and dean will always "look back" at cas. he will come when cas calls, despite knowing he is gone. he will turn to find him, despite knowing he should move on. because he loves him

[knotboy-dean]

For me it’s when Cas calls in 10x14. It’s barely a minute-long interaction but it’s “hey where you at?” and “okay, where are you? we’ll come to you.”

Where are you. Where are you.

[bluehandprint]

Supernatural / Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

[transthatmasc]

Thinking about the line “Do it doggy style so we can both watch x files” from the sex song The Bad Touch and DeanCas cause ofc

Dean proposing that they have sex while they’re on the couch watching X Files and Cas agrees but goes to turn the tv off and Dean’s like, nah just fuck me from behind and we can keep watching. Cas giving Dean the ‘humans baffle me’ look. Dean retorting with “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you cause you have literally all the time in the world but I’ve only got another 40 years in me at best. Not enough time to get all the serial tv shows and carnal pleasure in that I have on my agenda. Besides, I might get dementia and not be able to understand X files if I wait and I know for a fact that my joints are not getting any younger. Now line up lover boy, Scully’s about to see something science can’t explain.”

[youchangedmedestiel]

Ask Game!

25 & 29

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

I don't remember feeling upset as I wrote something. At least not yet. My writing actually helps me process things and deal with feelings. I tend to write happy endings but if somehow I end up writing a fic that doesn't, then maybe I'll be upset. If I manage to write about widower arc Dean one day, I'll probably be upsed, maybe that's why I don't write about him (yet).

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

It's a fic that happens after 8x22, one chapter is actually a fic I read and inspired me to write more about it and then it turned into something with more than 40k words. It was one of the first fic I wrote. I was experimenting my writing actually and words just kept flowing at me. I was just trying, okay? I just finished the show I had to let this all out and I was exploring their relationship. Anyway, don't judge me please. The scene I'm sharing with you happens in Dean's room at the bunker, there you go:

“Cas, what are you doing here?” Dean asks frowning, clearly still mad at Castiel’s reaction toward the flirty waitress. Castiel stands up and presses play on the stereo to start the song “The Rain Song” from Led Zeppelin. Dean looks at the stereo with his eyebrows still frowning, not understanding what is happening, since Castiel doesn’t answer his question.

“I need to tell you something, Dean.” Castiel starts smiling, walking toward Dean, while Dean just stands there, where he is looking at him. “I know you like this band and this song. This is why I chose it. And I know you know the lyrics but please listen to them. You will understand what I want to tell you.” Dean tilts his head and parts his lips, surprised. Even though, he doesn’t remember all the lyrics, not remembering every exact word, he knows what it is about. Plus, with the worry face Castiel makes, Dean understands what is happening. This is scaring the hell out of him but it is happening and he can’t stop it, he doesn’t really want to anyway. So, he smiles at him.

“Cas” he starts, wanting to apologize for doubting him with the waitress, but Castiel stops him instantly.

“Listen, Dean.” During the first lyrics, Castiel comes closer to Dean and extend one hand toward him. “I would like to dance with you,” Castiel offers. Dean hesitates while staring at him and puts his hand in Castiel’s. Both smiles as they lean in at the same time. Dean removes his hand from Castiel’s and puts his hands on his lower back, while Castiel puts his arms around Dean’s neck. When the first lyrics are sang, he rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder, while they dance slowly together.

“Listen,” he tells Dean again, whispering in his ear.   

It is the springtime of my loving

The second season I am to know

You are the sunlight in my growing

So little warmth I've felt before

It isn't hard to feel me glowing

I watched the fire that grew so low, oooh, oh

“You helped me grow. You changed me, Dean.” Castiel starts when the first lyrics are over and only the melody stays, moving back his head to stare into Dean’s eyes while he cups his head with his hands. “You taught me so many things, you taught me how to feel. You taught me about free will. And I believed in it, I have faith in it, I have faith in you. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. I never used you, Dean. I never will.” Castiel says finally calling back to what happened in Dean’s first fantasy.

“Cas –“ Dean starts, swallowing his tears. “I know that now. I should have never doubted you, I’m sorry.” Dean says lowering his gaze, but Castiel lifts his head up a little bit, already missing looking into his eyes. Dean’s eyes are back staring at Castiel’s blue.

“And I’m sorry I gave you some reasons to believe I would do this to you.” Castiel’s eyes starts to be fill with tears too.

“You didn’t Cas, it’s not you. It’s me. I always think people will leave me.”

“I never will, Dean. I couldn’t. You hear me? I always come back to you at some point. When you told me that we were family, that you needed me in that crypt. You broke the hold Naomi had on me, Dean. Don’t you understand? I can’t stay away from you for too long. If I do it’s because I have no other choice and it’s to keep you safe.” Castiel’s heart is racing, carried away by the emotions invading him.

“You had a choice in Purgatory, and you chose to stay. You chose to let me leave without you.” Dean throws, remembering how hurt he felt at the time, when Castiel showed him what really happened at the gate, he even altered his own memories to avoid knowing Castiel’s left him on purpose.

“It was different I was feeling so much guilt about the Leviathans, about what I did to people, to angels and to you. I didn’t deserve to go out with you. I didn’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

“You do, Cas. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you. I always get angry and end up hurting people I care about. Hurting you.” 

“It’s not true. You are not like that. Not at all. You see yourself how our enemies sees you but they are all wrong, you too. And you do, Dean. Deserve me.” Castiel says resting his head again on Dean’s shoulder, with his face buried in his neck this time. “Now, let’s dance slowly again. I like doing that with you. And listen to the song.” Castiel smiles against Dean’s neck.

It is the summer of my smiles

Flee from me, keepers of the gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes

It is to you I give this tune

Ain't so hard to recognize, oh

These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh

Oh, oh

“You are not like you said you are, Dean. When I look into your eyes, and after all these years, all I see is the most caring human in the whole world looking back at me. You care about people, ready to risk your own life to save them. You saved the world so many times. You saved ME too.” Castiel says moving his head back again to stare into Dean’s eyes, showing how much he deeply thinks what he is telling him.

Ah, talk, talk, talk, talk

Hey!

I've felt the coldness of my winter

I never thought it would ever go

I cursed the gloom that set upon us, upon us, upon us

But I know that I love you so, ohhhh, oh

But I know that I love you so

These are the seasons of emotion

And like the wind, they rise and fall

This is the wonder of devotion

I see the torch we all must hold

This is the mystery of the quotient, quotient

Ah, upon us all, upon us all a little rain must fall

Just a little rain, oh yeah

Uhh, ooooh, yeah yeah yeah

Castiel pulls back for the third time to look at Dean again. Dean is used to it now and he knows it means Castiel still has something to tell him. “We have been through so much together, you and me. Despite or thanks to all that, today I am able to say that –“ Castiel stops taking a deep breath to put all he feels in three little words as much as possible. “I love you”. He finally confesses, letting a tear run down his cheek. Dean swallows hard and wipes it with his thumb. He guessed what Castiel wanting to tell him, knowing the song, but he needed to be sure, he needed to hear what he had to say and he needed to hear that he loves him.

“I love you too, Cas.” Dean grabs Castiel’s neck with one hand and pulls him closer. He brushes their lips together, a desperate and passionate kiss, saying ‘I love you’ in another way again. Dean is overwhelmed by Castiel’s love and kiss, not controlling what is getting out of his mouth, his emotions, his feelings for him are getting the upper hand. “My mom used to tell me that angels were watching over me. I couldn’t believe her anymore when she died. But then, I met you Cas. And you gave me faith again. You always took care of me. You always watch over me, even when I sleep.” Dean chuckles and continues his speech, more seriously, putting his heart out. “Then, I fell in love with you as I never did before. I didn’t believe I could love someone like I love you. Cas, you are the light in my life, never think otherwise. You are my angel, you always have been.” Castiel smiles fondly at Dean’s confession, feeling his heart exploding in his chest, wanting to go out of it.

“I’m all yours and you are all mine.” Castiel declares with some lust replacing the happy tears in his eyes. “The song is already finished.” Castiel observes, looking at the stereo disappointed, while the music has ended a few minutes ago, but they were too focus on each other to notice.

“The song last more than 7 minutes, Cas.” Dean reminds him, chuckling, despite he didn’t notice when it ended either.

“I know, but it’s not enough. I like dancing with you, holding you in my arms.”

“I agree, I like it too.” Dean declares smiling fondly, stroking Castiel’s jaw with one hand.

“We should do that again some time.”

[nexus-my-beloved]

Has anyone ever really thought in detail about the fact that Cas fell for Dean. I know we acknowledge it, sure. We all know he did it. "I rebelled, for you", sure. But.

Cas fell as an angel multiple times and each time he went to Dean he was turned away at some point. And, as understanding as Cas may be to Dean's motives, it likely registered each time as something Cas did wrong. Because Cas always does something wrong. ( "Something happened, something went wrong-" "why does that something always seem to be you?" ) Cas has given up everything that he is and was for Dean and he's been turned away countless times, left to make it on his own, and hope he finds a way. An angel has been homeless, struggling to survive because the one he is in this state for turned him away.

Boiled down to its essence, Destiel is awful because it works like someone always trying to please the other but never being enough. "I gave up what I was so that I could be with you." "I liked you better before." is what their whole dynamic seems like, at least on one side. Cas, in the beginning, when he was an angel that had not yet been tainted, was revered by Dean and Dean was scared of him in a way. Once Cas fell for Dean? Things were different. Because he's an angel, or because he was, he needs to know /everything/, but it isn't all explained to him. He doesn't know what happens for normal people in the world, he has no concept of normal, he's lost and confused and he doesn't get help and he gets patronized and sent away because of it. Because he doesn't understand. Because he isn't human but he tries so hard to be for /Dean/.

Destiel is awful and horrible but it's great at the same time because of a myriad of things, but at some point in time, one of them always thinks they're doing awful, or there's miscommunication, or they push each other away. They can't be together because they don't talk things through. If they did, they'd be great- but they don't, and unfortunately that's the only universe, the only chance they ever had. Where Cas died telling Dean he loved him when the sacrifices Cas made throughout the years said it loud enough for it to not have to be said for any reason other than to put the nail in the coffin that Dean didn't notice or didn't know how to go through with it.

[angelsdean]

when will i bite the bullet and download a video editor and attempt to make shitty little amvs again (last time was 2014 ian and mickey shameless)

[dc-bitchin]

I need me some superbat amvs. I need to make the dc show that exists only in my head so I can make a superbat amv to amber run - I found. it is The superbat song

do you see my vision

[raindays11]

‘Whataya want from me’ by Adam lambert was literally hand crafted for Dean Winchester. ITS LITERALLY PERFECTTT 😭

[colorlessjay]

you definitely aren't alone in the modern perspective on SPN feeling! If nothing else, evident by all the Taylor Swift song inspired fics/amvs/art in SPN fandom (myself included, I can't listen to The Prophecy without seeing the destiel of it all haha)

I think it's just another side effect of a 15 season long show, some of us have been in this a lot longer than others! On my first watch through I definitely didn't recognize the comedy of Snooki the demon, but by s15 the parody of the Riverdale town joke really did land for me, and not for some others in fandom. We all come to the table with unique knowledge sets, and I think that's what leads to so much variety in all the great artwork and discussions that come from fandom!

Honestly, ya'lls words are uplifting. My biggest fear in this fandom is making something no one can relate to or understand

I don't wanna sit on a hill by myself with my little ants

Or like, be laughed at cause what I post is cringe in the bad way

It's nice to be part of a community like this

[autisticandroids]

belated fic rec list, part two: seasons four and five

so! this is for day 1 of @spnficrecfest (you will notice that that was yesterday two days ago. uh huh). and i am compensating by creating FIVE SEPARATE ERA-SPECIFIC LISTS. this one is for season four and five fics. i'm putting four and five together because i feel like the vibes are often similar for four and five fics. it constitutes its own distinct era, discrete from season six. mainly destiel, with some other pairings or gen as well.

other lists: endverse // season six // season nine // dabb era

my fave s4/5 fics, in increasing order of length

the mirror (orphaned fic), .5k

cas and jimmy at the end of things. casjimmy.

the fruit of knowledge by omegavers, 1k, noncon warning

cas rescues dean from hell. :3. destiel.

rebirth by anandroidinatutu, 1k, chose not to warn

dean comes back from hell. destiel with transfem dean.

super silence in the quiet by thequietwings, 1k

sastiel with unrequited destiel and samifer. immaculate season five vibes.

a watcher, a holy one, by vaguesurprise, 1k, chose not to warn

the song remains the same. annamary voyeurism, and then more. if this one tickles your fancy i would also recommend the ghost in the back of your head (orphaned fic).

goshen's remains by redeyedwrath, 2k

castiel creature of light and burning, and it wants. destiel.

the reality of the thing seen by smilla, 3k, violence warning

dean has strange dreams after my bloody valentine. gen.

bad education by haganenomorals, 3k, mcd and violence warning

cas and dean cope in the aftermath of a version of swan song where cas couldn't swwop in and fix things afterwards. wip but worth it; feels more like a oneshot that stands on its own.

close enough for rock n roll by amor remanet, 4k

a post-swan song destiel romp, featuring angels, reluctant domesticity, and mpreg.

all souls and angels by misslucyjane, 5k

destiel fic so old that the author didn't know about jimmy novak yet. cas learns about taking care of his body.

red motel reprised by vaguesurprise, 5k

samruby and dreams.

we who were living by anactoria, 5k, mcd warning

the aftermath of a season five apocalypse that did, actually, happen. destiel.

a hole in the world by bauble, 6k, chose not to warn

dean says yes. it's up to cas now. destiel.

brother mine by diaryofageekgirl, 8k

character exploration for uriel, feat. angel worldbuilding. gen.

the (mostly accidental) courtship of dean winchester by tuesday, 11k

broadly i tried to stick to less well known works for this list, but some things are classics for a reason. destiel. cas informs dean that they are 90% of the way to married. he has not previously mentioned this.

right of conquest by luchia, 14k

a very different vision for lucifer and the apocalypse, written before season five aired. destiel.

heart of glass by omphalos, 17k

destiel. an odd one. lots of dean-cas sniping. crowley is there. has a very of-its-time feel.

no birds or beasts does he eat (he only wants the tenderest meat) by mthrfkrgdhrwego, 18k, violence warning

a my bloody valentine remix. with crazy destiel gore sex.

an unclean man who went down to immerse himself: by 52ndstreet, 22k

cas and jimmy before the possession. what if it went way further than the pasta water. gen.

hesitation by apokteino, 24k, noncon warning

yeah yeah yeah it's apokteino everybody's read apokteino NO THEY HAVE NOT. everybody has read with understanding. hesitation is a WILDLY underappreciated element of the apokteino canon. season four destiel romance with some key misunderstandings.

oneiroi by rc_mclachlan, 54k

cas adventures in the realm of dreams. another fandom classic, but still deserving of a rec.

four rings and a one man apocalypse by funnywings, 57k, chose not to warn

dean uses the horsemen's rings to mess with cas' emotions. cas lets him. destiel.

[verobatto]

Ficwip Drabble Prompt:

Fandom: Supernatural 

Ship: Destiel

Warnings: N/A

Prompt: Old Songs

Title: Understanding you

Why does Dean Winchester enjoy listening to old songs so much? Castiel doesn't know. He just stares at him while his lips move, forming romantic lyrics as their eyes meet. The angel reaches out his hand to hold Dean's warm fingers. Dean is now singing with a broad smile, and his freckles shine like constellations.

Maybe Castiel does know why: those old songs make Dean's face beam, and the universe seems to pause just to hear him sing. Castiel then tries to sing along, and Dean laughs, so sound and beautifully.

"You ruined it, Cas, but it's okay, because I love you," Dean says and kisses him softly.

[waihtie]

Oh Geez, it's the finale. Sorry if this gets long

Season 5 Episode 22 - Swan Song

I never wanna hear this season recap song ever again. I know there will be no peace and we will never be done.

○ Of course Chuck is in this one. He needs to know what's going on, but I just know he's gonna play dumb as all hell (bc he's still only written as a prophet)

○ Dean's on board with Sam's plan?? What's his play?

Dean admitting taking care of Sam is who he is. He never sees his worth beyond what he can do for other people, especially Sam.

○ They just completely drained two demons while they hung by their feet like butchered animals. Remember when they gagged at organs?

○ Cas: *Sleeping in the backseat*

Dean: "Well, ain't he a little angel?"

Bro, he shouldn't have to sleep. Be concerned.

SAM POINTING THAT OUT lol

○ Sam making Dean promise he won't come looking for him. Of course Dean won't. Being stuck with Lucifer in Hell is worse than Hell alone.

He wants him to go back to Lisa and "have barbeques and go to football games" 💔

○ Sam and Bobby's goodbye 😭

Cas trying to follow social norms 😂. He is so funny. That was cute.

○ I can't believe Dean let Sam say yes.

Why isn't Lucifer jumping on that?

Oh, Lucifer knows about the rings. That's not helpful.

Damn he did it. Lucifer is using Sam as a vessel.

Sam's plan did not work. Shocker.

Dean's face 😭

○ Samifer is great, tho. I love his eyes, they are different from Sam's. Must be the lack of trauma and existence of self-worth

○ Cas is so funny, again. "You don't have to be mean."

*suggests the next thing they do is "buy copious amounts of alcohol"

Cas and Bobby have just given up

Dean hasn't.

○ Poor Sam, Lucifer is drinking demon blood for a power boost

○ Chuck and Becky broke up lol

But he knows where and when the big fight is going down.

○ Cas trying to protect Dean 💔

○ Ouuu we're at Michael and Lucifer's meeting. This is so interesting.

Neither want to "do this". Lucifer is trying to convince Michael to not fight. What an interesting dynamic.

I almost feel for Lucifer in this conversation. Michael is the bad guy, here. (Not saying Lucifer isn't, tho)

COME ON people. Just bc it isn't funny or Destiel, doesn't mean we shouldn't have gifs of it. ^^

○ I love how Dean just casually pulls up to where the two most powerful beings except God are about to fight

○ "Hey, assbutt"

"Did you just molotov my brother... with holy fire?" LMAO

It seems like Lucifer actually loves Michael

Cas's reaction is, once again, so funny. Dude's got so much personality :

Aaand he just exploded. See you in a few episodes, my love

Nvm, Lucifer just killed Bobby. They're gonna be back this episode.

○ Dean trying to reach out to Sam while Lucifer beats him 💔💔

Woah it worked

Also, I love the flashbacks to season 1, they were so cute.

○ Oh my God he's gonna do it, he's gonna jump in

AND HE TOOK MICHAEL WITH HIM

Brilliant play

RIP Sam, see you in the next episode

○ Aaand Cas is back. And back to normal.

Loook at their faces

"Cas are you God?" Lol

God brought him back "new and improved", and he brought back Bobby.

○ "God gives you a brand new set of wings and suddenly you're his bitch again."

Dean so desperately wants Cas to stick around, but refuses to say it

"You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?" See what I mean?

○ Dean is actually gonna hold up on his promise. He went back to Lisa.

○ Chuck just poofed out.

Did they (writers) know what he was going to be, or just knew it was more than a prophet?

○ Okay, nvm, see you this episode, Sam. He really came right back.

I wish I had an emotional understanding of this show the first time I watched this episode bc GODDAMN. Words can't even explain.

Note for myself: Cas is going to heaven bc with Michael gone, it's gonna be chaos. Someone has to run the show

[mentally-retired]

destiel angst idea: (presumably, but might just be misconception) onsided destiel where castiel doesn't understand why it's different but he knows he different than all the girls dean likes

and its to the song hetreoverheels by dan & drum

like this to me is so castiel pov destiel coded maybe im crazy

[roger-that-cap]

running back to home base (you)

chapter one (1/4)

destiel highschool/college/work AU

Summary: Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are high school best friends. And then they are lovers. After that, they are strangers, ripped apart by Dean’s stubbornness, stupidity, and lack of acceptance of his own self. When Dean comes across Castiel again years after they both graduate college and have their own lives, he’s hit with a solid understanding of just how miserable he really is, and how badly he fucked up. Especially when Castiel is absolutely thriving, and just as beautiful as the last time they saw each other.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester were as thick as thieves. They had been that way since freshman year of high school, and Castiel still didn’t understand what exactly made Dean take him under his wing.

Castiel was sheltered. He grew up in boarding schools with people just like him, with money to burn and odd parents who either cared too much or nowhere near enough. High school was the first time he was ever in public school, and it was very obvious that he was an oddball. He was sure that he was off putting, even Gabe had warned him to maybe smile instead of just watching people, but Dean sat right next to him in their English class, anyway.

He remembered that first day they met like it was yesterday. It was the very first day of freshman year. Dean shot him a grin, asked his name, and smoothly told him his own name like he had never once heard of first day jitters. He had also announced that he was on the varsity baseball team as a freshman, and he was proud of it. Castiel didn’t understand the hype, but it was obvious that their peers were in awe about it. So, he had just nodded and filed it in his brain that it was an achievement.

The first few weeks between them were awkward. Cas didn’t speak unless spoken to (which was actually a lot because Dean never shut up), but he realized eventually that Dean was actually a nice kid. Maybe a little too confident, but he was nice. He never made fun of Cas, never gave him strange looks or asked where he came from. He treated Castiel like he didn’t just fall out of the sky and into their small town, which meant that he was more than okay in Castiel’s books.

The first time they ever talked outside of class was when Dean came up to him at lunch. Castiel had been annotating his personal copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, very obviously deep into it with his earbuds in and all, and Dean had waltzed up anyway with that stupid, goofy grin. “Hey, did you read the book last night?”

Immediately, Castiel had been a little peeved. This kid had broken his quiet, peaceful lunch for absolutely no reason other than to try to get his answers for work he didn’t do. He glared at Dean. “I’m not going to help you cheat. And I’m not giving you the answers.”

Dean frowned. “Answers? I don’t want your answers, I want to talk about it,” he said, plopping down next to him. “Poor Lennie, right? I can’t believe this!”

For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t think Dean was stupid or anything, but every time Dean had spoken in class up to that point, it was about some movie or TV show that Castiel had yet to watch. Or even worse, baseball. He never wanted to talk about school, so Castiel had determined that it just wasn’t his thing.

“I mean… yes,” Cas had said slowly. “It’s very sad.”

“What are you listening to?” Dean asked, and he tapped on Castiel’s phone screen. Before Castiel could scold Dean about touching other people’s things, Dean’s brows raised. “Uh, you know this song is about a stalker?”

“Every breath you take” was playing on his phone. It was one of his favorites. It was a song Gabriel used to play as a joke, but it became one of the songs Castiel played the most, and one of the ones that had him wishing he was as skilled at music as he was with a pen or a paintbrush.

“Yes, it’s obviously about someone watching another person very closely,” Cas said, and Dean cracked a smile. “But that doesn’t make it any less good.”

“It’s all good, I like the song too,” Dean said, and then in another breach of personal space, he took Castiel’s earbud and put it right in his own ear. “We all share music on the bus,” he justified, and then to Castiel’s surprise, he jumped right into the lyrics.

After a few moments of watching Dean shamelessly mouth the lyrics, Castiel started to mumble them back, both inspired by his lack of boundaries and confused by them.

And then, as if Dean had cracked open a vault full of gold, he beamed. They finished the song together.

And that had started it all.

That very moment had somehow led to Castiel going to a game or two just to see what it was all about, after a time or two do Dean talking him into showing up. He discovered that Dean was actually very good at baseball, just as Dean himself and everyone else had been raving about. And even though the rules never seemed to stick in Castiel’s head, he enjoyed watching Dean play.

They turned out to be very compatible friends. That evolved into them sitting next to each other at lunch every day. Then Castiel was going to his house whether that was to study or just talk. That was how he met Sam, Dean’s sweet, tall, considerate younger brother who was very smart. He was a good kid, and even though Dean teased him at times, it was obvious he loved Sam to pieces.

As the years went on and Dean got more and more friends, Castiel always had a seat on the right side of him. Their interactions kept snowballing, and before either of them could understand it, they were always together. And before any of them could stop it, they were stealing glances at each other, subtle hearts and stars lingering in their eyes.

The stolen glances changed into something more, too. It went from looking at each other and then looking away to holding each other’s stares until one of them (usually Cas) couldn’t bear it anymore. It went from sitting on the bed far apart to being close enough to touch thighs, and then Dean’s hand hovering over Cas’s. By the end of freshman year, it was obvious to the both of them that there was something other than friendship going on between the two of them, even if it remained unspoken out loud.

The spring of sophomore year changed everything. Cas was going to every game that he could make at that point, just as Dean went to all of his art shows and book competitions. There was one game, one of the last games of the season, where Dean was so happy that he pulled him away and behind the bleachers. For a moment, the look in Dean’s eyes was so wild that Castiel was sure that Dean was on a high, and just like in the movies, they shared a kiss in the middle of May, hidden away from everyone and everything besides the buzzing beehive under the bleachers.

After the kiss, it still took three weeks for them to put a label on things. That label came on one of the first days of summer, and Castiel felt like he had gained angel wings because he was so excited. After a long time, Dean Winchester was his boyfriend. His boyfriend.

They spent that whole summer together, just the two of them. Sometimes Sam would tag along, definitely suspecting something, but never bold enough to ask his brother about a thing. It was perfect. And as stupid as every high schooler was, Castiel had been so sure that the perfect summer world they had built together would last forever.

The cruel hands of time led them to college applications and acceptances. They both got into the same school, and after they practically jumped up and down over that, they both committed to going. Dean wasn’t happy with Castiel at first, because he knew that Castiel could have done “more”. But what was “more” without his best friend? It worked for the both of them, having the exact majors they needed and the programs, too. So, they would go to school together, and Castiel thought that it couldn't have worked out any better.

The summer after high school was their best yet. It was full of laughter and affection and swimming and talking about their future and kissing and love, and it was glorious.

And then it was time to pack up and head to school.

It hadn’t come to a screeching halt, though. There was a week left of summer that was full of family visits, and his favorite- a sendoff party.

Castiel hadn’t ever heard of a sendoff party, but if any family were to do it for their child, of course it would be the Winchesters. Dean was going to the same school as he was, just an hour and some change down the road, but Mary Winchester was as celebratory as she had been at their graduation, somehow equally proud of them both. Castiel always felt grateful that Mary treated him as her own on more occasions than one. Gabriel was a great brother, but it was obvious that Castiel was missing a supportive mother figure in his life, and Mary had been kind enough to fill that ever since Cas first came to the house. John wasn’t mean, he was just a tired man who spent most of him time grunting or paying attention to his children when there were accomplishments. He was nice enough to Cas, but Mary was kind, and very inclusive.

And that was what led him to blowing out candles on a cake, standing next to his favorite Winchester of all, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, uh, can we talk?”

Castiel was still smiling. The smoke from the candles on his cake was lingering in his nose, and he noticed that Dean hadn’t even blown his candle out yet. He nudged him. “Make a wish.” Dean just stared at Castiel for a moment, and then after a few long seconds, he leaned down and blew out his candle.

The kitchen erupted in applause and congratulations, and Castiel couldn’t stop grinning. He graduated, and he was going to college. They both were. It was on to the next thing. They could finally leave town, finally be bigger and better than what they had been confined to. Dean could be more than baseball, and Castiel could… he just could be himself. He was ready to grow, and he was ready to watch Dean grow, too.

He could feel Dean hovering around him awkwardly, which was funny, because usually it was Castiel who was the awkward one in a crowd. Castiel was always Dean’s little shadow, the shadow that Dean always thrusted forward regardless, the shadow Dean forced to be side by side with him, shown as his equal.

They ate the cake, which was half vanilla for Cas and half chocolate for Dean, and Castiel talked animatedly to Mary, who was still gushing over his perfect GPA and the fact that he was third in his class, to which he was perfectly excited about. That meant he hadn’t had to do a speech.

He could feel Dean. It was a talent of his that he had acquired in their second year of being best friends. He was good at sensing when Dean was having a bad day, or when he was having negative thoughts. He was good at it, and he knew for a fact that there was something wrong with Dean.

He wasn’t sure exactly what his problem was, but he wasn’t eating his cake with as much vigor as he usually ate desserts. It wasn’t pie, but it was still cake, so Dean should have been excited to shovel forkfuls of it. But he wasn’t. He was pushing it around his plate and looking around like someone was watching him.

“Can we talk?” Dean asked again after a few more pushes of his cake, and Castiel turned to look at him, really look at him.

He looked nervous. Dean was never nervous. Even when he was, he always had this air of confidence that couldn’t be disputed. He always brought calmness and content wherever he went, and he was so cool and handsome that he could have been a model on a magazine. He could have been a statue, made of strong, beautiful marble. That was Dean. That had always been Dean.

“Sure,” he said softly, still giving him a small smile, and they walked down the hallway together.

Castiel was sure that Dean was nervous about being away from home. He had never been away from Sam or his parents before. Meanwhile, Castiel had been sent to boarding schools until high school. Cas was used to being away from his awful parents, he thrived on it, but Dean was different.

The bedroom door shut, and the second Castiel took a seat in the middle of the bed like he always did, Dean turned to look at him with apprehension written all over his beautiful face.

“I don’t think we should hang out anymore.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For a moment, the words bounced around in his head, ringing like a bell and bouncing off the thick walls of his skull. It was all coming crashing down in front of him at once, in the middle of their joint fucking going away party, and all Castiel could do was blink.

“What, Dean?” He managed to grind out, and he saw the look on the other boy’s face, and his heart sank. That was the look that Dean got when he was about to pull away.

“I said, I don’t think it’s good for us to hang out anymore. After this,” he amended, and Castiel watched his face closely.

Hang out. What an immature way to describe what they were doing. Like they were twelve years old and neighbors, playing games on a console until it was time to walk home. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said,” Dean said snippily, and Castiel swallowed at the sharp tone. Dean rarely ever spoke to him like that. That was how Dean sounded when he felt like he was backed into a corner. “I don't…maybe we just shouldn’t.”

Castiel’s mind was racing. He needed a reason. “Is your dad making you say this?”

“No, Cas,” Dean said quickly, but Castiel narrowed his eyes anyway. John wasn’t openly terrible, but he hadn’t acknowledged what was blatantly in front of him, and Castiel was sure it was because he didn’t want to. “I just- we shouldn’t.”

Usually, Castiel wouldn’t pry. He wouldn’t even get close to begging for someone to speak to him, let alone about their feelings. Even worse, Dean. But he had to. “Why not?”

Dean sighed, but instead of sounding bored, his breath was shaky. “We’re going to college, Castiel. I’m gonna be busy, you’re gonna be busy, we’ll hardly get to see each other-”

All Castiel could see were the decorations in the living room, the dark red and the white, the colors of the school they were going to together. “We committed to the same school-”

“I’ll be doing baseball and you- you have all your art stuff,” Dean paused his rambling, and it was enough time for the words to settle in and for Castiel to start feeling his heart slowly shatter, “and you’ll probably join a writing club. We won’t have time-”

“We’ve always made time before.”

“I’m not good at school and I don’t want to drag you down-”

“Dean, you know I’ll help you with your school work, now what’s actually wrong?” Castiel asked, and for the first time in a while, he was outwardly bewildered. “You’re giving excuses.”

Castiel saw the moment Dean’s walls, the walls that took years for him to tear down brick by brick, go back up. “What, I’m not allowed to break-to say I want a break from us being around each other?”

“You are, of course you are,” Castiel said calmly, “but this makes no sense, Dean. We’re both smarter than this, and you know that excuses are stupid and they’re not fair. So what’s going on?”

There was a pause. That pause scared Castiel, because Dean was rarely ever silent. Unless he was eating. But a silent Dean in a serious conversation meant that there was about to be a bomb dropped on the both of them.

“I’m just ready to turn over another leaf, Cas.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Castiel watched as Dean took in a long breath, one that was uncharacteristically shaky considering how pseudo confident Dean always was, and he held a breath of his own, because he knew that whatever came next was about to rip his world apart.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Ow. Fuck. That hurt. But Castiel just blinked and breathed in real slow through his nose, like that would curb the pain. He nodded his head once and ignored the slight shake of his hands. He prayed Dean would, too. “Okay. Can I ask why?”

Dean looked like he wanted to do anything but answer as he shrugged. His shrug made it look like his shoulders alone weighed a hundred pounds. “I don’t… I just don’t want to be known as the gay guy.”

Castiel frowned. If anything, that was him. Dean was still the cool baseball guy that just so happened to have the weird little art guy following him around. Castiel was the gay guy who just fell into being Dean Winchester’s “best friend” in the eyes of those who didn’t look close enough.

“And I can’t… I can’t be with you if that’s not what I want. How I want to be seen.”

It shouldn’t have surprised Castiel. Dean had never openly claimed him, never openly defended him beyond how a friend would. But that was all to outsiders. That was when Dean had a front on. That was how Dean showed himself to everyone else.

But there Dean was right in front of him, tearing down every banner they had ever hung on their shitty little castle that was never built to withstand the rain and wind. He was ripping it all down and putting up shutters, hiding from the one person who was always allowed in on the other side of the walls.

“So… you don’t want anyone to know that you’re gay?”

Dean made a face. “It… it’s not like that.”

“You want to break up with me so that people can’t see us together,” Castiel said slowly, like every word was glass on his tongue, “because we’re both men.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“That's exactly what you just said, Dean,” Castiel said, and he looked toward the closed bedroom door as if he could see through it and make sure no one was listening. “You don’t want to be seen with me.”

“Cas, you’re my best friend in the whole world-”

“I’m your boyfriend, Dean.”

Dean flinched.

“Dean, I’m your boyfriend. I have been for a long time. Ever since we kissed under the bleachers, you know this.”

And Dean did know it. It was something that they had laughed about plenty of times. They laughed about how nervous they had both been for no reason, how shy that they had been despite having a gut feeling, just knowing, how the other felt.

“Cas I just-” Dean closed his eyes for a moment. “I realized that I can’t love you how you want me to, alright?”

That knocked the breath out of Castiel. “What?”

“I’m not like you,” Dean said, and Cas noticed that he was shaking, too. “I’m not. And you can’t make me be, okay? I can’t love you like that. I just- it doesn’t work that way.”

“You don’t love me?”

“Not in that way,” Dean said, and Castiel would have had to be deaf to not hear his voice breaking. “Not… romantically.”

Flashbacks flew through the shorter boy’s mind quicker than ever. He saw them laughing together, holding hands, looking at the stars late at night and sneaking out of the house just to swim in the lake. He remembered them playing house together while his parents were gone. He could see images of the two of them staring into each other's eyes and then leaning in to kiss like they were magnets. He remembered their hands in each other’s pants for the first time and taking off their shirts like they fucking had to, kissing like their last breaths were in each other’s lips. He remembered all the art shows and how Dean never missed an exhibit, or how he always went to Dean’s games. He remembered the trips they took in the summer and the birthdays and the holidays and getting so close with Sam like it was meant to be and the job at the ice cream shop that they both worked at together simply because it was the only job that let them constantly be on the schedule at the same time-

“You don’t love me romantically?”

Dean looked like he was about to scream in his childhood home. He looked the smallest that Castiel had ever seen him, beaten down by his own fists. “No. Not like that. I can’t.”

Castiel wanted to drag it out. He wanted to ask why. He wanted to do the whole “so that’s it” thing, but he knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. Not with Dean. And not with himself, either. He knew the look in Dean’s eyes well enough to know that he would get nothing more, at least nothing that wouldn’t drive him crazy.

He would be getting nothing more from Dean, at all. And he couldn’t help him, either.

“Dean, if you can’t accept who you are,” Castiel said slowly, shaking his head, “all you’re going to do is hurt yourself.”

Dean took a step back like his words had burned through his chest and into his heart. “You don’t get it, Cas.”

“I do, Dean. I’m gay. And so are you. At the very least, you like men.” Dean shook his head, and Cas wasn’t sure if he was disputing a claim that wasn’t even his, or if he was blocking out the entire conversation. “You’re only denying yourself-”

Dean’s jaw was sharp as he shook his head one more time. “Shut up.”

“You are,” Cas insisted. “And that’s that. You’ll figure it out eventually, Dean, but I really hope that the fall doesn’t hurt as badly as I’m sure it will.” Castiel turned on his heel, intent on leaving Dean before the heartbreak bled into his expression and his words.

He got about three paces away before he heard Dean speak again. “Are you mad because I said I can’t love you?”

“No, Dean,” Castiel said, turning just his head to look at Dean, who was tense standing there, looking seconds away from falling apart. “I’m upset because you’re saying you can’t love yourself.” He forced himself to look at Dean one last time, right into his green eyes, eyes that never cried but were surely shining right then. “Goodbye, Dean.”

Castiel beelined out of Dean’s bedroom, and as he heard people laughing and celebrating their graduation in the living room, he forced himself to act like he hadn’t just left Dean’s room for the last time.

He was thankful that he was blessed with the art of the poker face as he faked a headache, thanking everyone for letting him join the party. There wasn’t a person that could tell there was something wrong with him, but Mary looked at him strangely, like she could see right through him, but she let him go without saying a word about it. She hugged him tighter than usual. John waved goodbye, as nonchalantly as ever.

Castiel was ready to go home. He was seconds away from running, genuinely breaking out into a sprint just to get away and get home. He was so ready that he almost forgot about Sam, who seemed to have spawned out of nowhere right by the front door.

“Cas?” Sam asked, frowning, and Castiel could already see the hesitation in his eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my house,” he said calmly, when in reality, all he wanted to do was bawl his eyes out, possibly even scream, but Sam had done nothing to him. He would always think of Sam as his family, despite what his older brother had done.

Despite what he wouldn't do.

Sam tilted his head to the side. “But this is your send off party, too,” he pointed out. “You can stay for as long as you want, I’m sure Dean would want you to.”

Castiel was sure of it before that conversation, too. He had been very sure. After so many touches and words and kisses, he was sure Dean wanted Castiel to follow him anywhere, and that he would have even followed him. But Dean’s teeth were extra sharp to make up for the softness of his lips, and Dean always managed to bite the gentle hand that fed him.

“It’s alright, Sam. I’ll uh, I’ll see you later, okay?”

Sam was younger, but he was so observant. It was something Castiel had admired in the boy, especially when it was paired with his intelligence and eagerness to learn. But now, as it was just the two of them by the front door, it made him uneasy. Sam’s stare pinned him into place, and Cas waited for whatever Sam wanted to say to hit him in the chest, just like his older brother's words had just moments before.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

That was a weird thing for Sam to say, and he had never said it before. That sounded an awful lot like a resolute goodbye. And as Castiel stood there and watched Sam blink back tears, he knew that they both knew Castiel wouldn’t be coming back.

“I’ll see you around, Sam.” And then Castiel opened the door and walked out of the Winchester’s house, and he made sure that he never turned back to look.

Under any other circumstances, Castiel would have hated moving all of his stuff. He would have hated the packing and the boxes and the shopping for shower caddies. He would have despised buying pots and pans and labeling them and all the other things that he realized were expensive only after swiping his own card. It all would have felt like a tedious chore but as time went on, he welcomed it as a nice distraction.

Dean would have had about ten people helping him move all of his things, and people buying him stuff, too. He would have had his whole family and his cousins and probably even boys from the team. He would have had so much help and positivity around him, and that was something Castiel had never been jealous of before moving almost on his own.

Gabriel, even though it was just him, ended up being a big help. He had always been the best older brother, the only one willing to move to a new area just so that Castiel could be normal for a few years before he got out of school and into the real world. Gabe was always Castiel’s best support system, and it was no different as they moved him into his dorm.

He was enough to make Castiel break a smile every now and then, to take him out of his thoughts with thoughts of something so incredibly stupid that he had to do a double take. Gabriel was funny, but Gabriel also was extremely aware that something happened. And he was too talkative for his own good.

So, as Castiel and his older brother unpacked the last box, Gabriel looked at Castiel with eyes that were less full of their casual mischief and more full of concern, and it made Cas bite his tongue, bracing for impact.

“So, you two are done?”

The ache in his chest got worse instantly, and for a moment, he was hoping that he could just not respond and it all would go away. But Gabriel was still there, watching him silently, waiting for an answer that would surely tear its way out of Castiel’s soul.

“I’m not sure if we ever were anything,” Castiel said quietly, but the words sounded like a bomb going off in his own ears.

“What?”

“I’m not sure if we were anything at all,” Castiel repeated, and Gabriel frowned, just looking at him. Watching.

“Don’t let him do that,” Gabe scolded, and Castiel cocked a brow.

“Do what?”

“Don’t let him write the narrative about what you were just because he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on with himself,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t let him make you think that what you two had was insignificant.”

For a moment, Castiel was shocked. It wasn’t like Gabe to be so profound, or to say something that didn’t circle back to something that was somewhat a joke at least once. “I… he’s not. I guess I was just thinking back on it-”

“That dumbass was definitely your boyfriend,” Gabriel said, sipping on his Coke, “and you’re going through a breakup. Taking it really well, I might say,” he added, and Castiel looked away.

Gabe knew about the breakup, but he had no idea why it happened. Cas figured it was better to explain in person right then and there than over the phone in a week or so while he broke down crying, so he sighed.

“He broke up with me because he didn’t want to be seen as gay.”

Gabe was silent for a moment, and then Cas looked back at his older brother. His eyes were narrowed. “How odd.” There was a pause. “Does he know that it’s college and it’s a huge school and no one gives a shit if anyone’s gay here? Like, at all?”

Castiel sighed. “It was more than that, Gabriel. Deeper than that. I saw the look in his eyes. There was nothing I could have said to get him to change his mind. Nothing I say was going to reassure him.”

“It’s a personal issue,” Gabe agreed. “That’s all on him. And I honestly feel very sorry for Dean.” That was odd. He had never called Dean by his name, not since he and Cas started running around together. And he almost never said that he was sorry, not for his own actions, not for others. Gabriel was being wholeheartedly serious.

“Why?”

“Because Dean is so in love with you, to the point where quite literally everyone close to you guys knows it. And he’s going to shit a thousand bricks once he realizes that he fucked up.” He sipped his soda again. “But, he’ll realize a long time from now. I can see it already.”

“I doubt it, Gabriel.”

Gabriel put his soda down, and then with another one of those rare, serious looks, he nailed Castiel with a glare. “Cassie, mark my words. In about ten years, you’ll run into him somehow, some way. And he’s gonna lose it.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if he even wanted that idea in his head. He didn’t want the hope. He couldn’t afford it. He just… he couldn’t. It was a comfort that may or may not have been real, and he couldn’t cope with any more rugs being pulled out from under him.

“But he did you a favor, honestly. Now isn’t the time to be tied down. Freshman year!” Gabe practically shouted, and Castiel flinched a bit. “Have fun. Go to clubs. Go on dates. Get laid. Stay safe though, please. Be free and all that. Be a young adult.”

“I…” Castiel started, and by the time he knew his throat was closing up, it was already too late to stop the tears. “I don’t know how to do any of that without Dean,” he choked out. “He was the one with a hundred friends and- and all the invitations and- I can’t do this without him, Gabe.”

It hit him like a tower falling down on his head, bricks crushing him to bits. He started crying then and there in front of his brother, as close to sobbing his eyes out as he could get. He just stood there like a big baby, bawling his eyes out and covering his face as if that would shield him from judgement that was never going to come from Gabe in the first place.

A hand reached out, gentle yet grounding, and squeezed Cas’s shoulder. “You have something better,” Gabe said, and Castiel looked up, wiping his eyes. “You have the guts to be yourself. Without shame. And that’s worth so much more than a hundred friends who don’t really know you, Castiel.”

Castiel forced himself to nod. The words made sense, they really did, and they were just as calming as Gabriel’s energy in that moment as he swallowed and blinked back tears.

“You’re gonna be just fine.”

“I am,” Castiel confirmed, nodding his head again, and he let Gabriel’s words sink in. and he promised himself that he wouldn’t ever forget them.

So far, Castiel wasn’t the biggest fan of college. The university as a whole wasn't exactly his vibe, he wasn’t the biggest fan of some of his roommates (they were either dirty or rude), and it wasn’t as walkable as they had claimed it was when he first toured it.

Now, there were good points to it. He was in a great writing program with likeminded people, and he felt like he had finally found a small crowd to fit into. His favorite professor already liked him, and he had a single roommate that wasn’t insufferable. It all sounded perfect. When his mother called, he made it sound perfect. When Gabriel called, he let loose and complained a little. In his journal, he was mostly honest. He was missing something, and he was sure that anyone who knew him knew what it was.

He missed Dean.

Castiel was trying not to be too hard on himself regarding missing Dean. Dean Winchester was practically his other half for years, years before they ever kissed. Years. So as he closed his eyes holding a jersey that Dean had outgrown and given to him sophomore year, he let himself grieve.

Castiel had always seen their school colors as ugly. Green and blue, and some white thrown in the mix. Castiel was a color guy, he loved art, but the way that the jerseys looked never drew his eye in a good way. Unless Dean was in it. He remembered commenting on it one night after a baseball game went particularly well, and Dean was beaming under the sunset.

“I just can’t stand the colors,” he had said offhandedly, and he remembered the way Dean threw him an amused glance.

“Why not?”

“Too much blue,” he said, waving a hand over the jersey Dean was wearing.

“Well, I like it,” Dean had said, and Castiel nodded to himself, ready to hear about how Dean wanted to wear the green and blue for the rest of his life, because as far as he knew, Dean wanted to die with a bat in his hands. “The blue reminds me of you.”

Cas frowned. “Of me?”

“Well, your eyes,” Dean said casually, and Castiel remembered the way his heart skipped several beats then and there, and the way Dean kept walking like they were talking about the weather. “And my eyes are green. Green and blue go well together.”

They did. And Castiel was so convinced that they went together too, and that they would forever be immortalized by the stupid fucking jersey, the stupid fucking jersey that he was gripping in his hands like it was slipping through his fingers.

“Hey,” he heard, and he opened his eyes, still holding the jersey in his hands. It felt like holding ashes in his hands. He couldn’t bear to drop it, so he turned to look at Mick, the one roommate that wasn’t actually half bad. “We’re all going out and uh, did you want to get out of the apartment for a while?”

Gabriel would have wanted him to say yes. He would have been shouting at him to take the offer, actually. So, he put a smile on his face and nodded his head despite the fact that it took all of his energy to even think about carrying out conversations with anyone at any type of bar or club. He wasn’t even sure which was worse.

It took him no time at all to get ready. He never was one to take his clothes seriously, and he really had no reason to, because there wasn’t anyone he wanted to impress. He walked out awkwardly with his roommates, his supposedly new friends, and down the street to the bar. He already hated it as they laughed. Why were they laughing? What the hell was so funny? He knew what wasn’t funny, and it was eating him alive, grinding him up between teeth until he was nothing but mush.

By the time that they got their IDs checked and led into the glorified room with a dance floor and a bar, Castiel was already having to coach himself into not going home early. It was pathetic almost, but he kept hearing Gabe’s voice in his head, encouraging him to just stay out for the night. Just a few hours. And as the minutes went on and he nursed his first (and probably only) drink, he felt a little more at ease.

It took a few minutes for Castiel to realize that he was having an okay time. Usually whenever he went out, there was someone (Dean fucking Winchester) that built the bridge over the gap that was caused by his awkwardness. He didn’t have that safety net anymore, and that meant he was mostly standing off in the corner, watching his new roommates live their lives, laughing and dancing and taking shots.

That was fine by him. He liked to watch people. He liked watching the girl in the pink flush a similar color to her skirt when the boy she was talking to moved her hair to the side. He liked watching the two upperclassmen at the bar take a shot without flinching. He liked watching as a group of girls laughed and danced with each other, carefree and in their own worlds. As his eyes kept trailing around while he hardly even drank his own room temperature beer, they landed on something excruciatingly familiar.

He knew that back anywhere. He did. He would know it in the dark and under the blinding sunlight. He knew it with a shirt on or off, or wet from the ocean water. He knew it in a jersey or in a long sleeved shirt. And it was hunched forward, bent in the same way he imagined it looked from behind when they used to kiss.

His stomach dropped. He knew what he was seeing, who he was seeing. He understood it before his poor heart could catch up, and as if he needed more to fill in the blanks, the back turned to the side, and sure enough, there was a girl pushed up close to him, running her hands over his arms, kissing him right there.

Castiel’s brain fought its way to a conclusion as he stood there in shock. After three seconds of hardcore analysis, he blinked and forced himself to see it. Dean was in a college bar, making out with a girl who had dark hair, striking blue eyes that he could see even from afar, and sharp features. And if Castiel squinted a little, if he wanted to be self-absorbed, he would have thought that the girl looked a little like him. Castiel’s brows raised as it all settled in.

As if it was a joke from the universe, a familiar song started to play. He recognized the starting notes just as easily as he recognized Dean’s back, and the memories hit him instantly.

Every breath you take

No. It couldn’t be fucking real. He wasn’t living in the correct timeline, because why would the universe force him to watch Dean Winchester kiss a girl while their song played in the background? A song about-

The only option for Castiel was to leave. He had to leave quietly before he started to bawl on his very first night out. He had to get the hell out of there before Dean noticed him. And then, like he was in his own worst nightmare, Dean’s body straightened, and he turned his head as the girl kissed his neck. Castiel’s blue eyes met Dean’s green ones for the first time in what felt like years.

Dean looked like a deer in headlights. He was frozen as they looked at each other, stuck in time while the girl was completely oblivious to the sudden tension. They stared at each other from across the bar, and with his broken heart and all, all that Castiel could do was shrug.

Every game you play, every night you stay, I’ll be watching you

He saw Dean take a deep breath, one that reminded Castiel so much of all the ones he would take as he laid his head on his chest, listening to Dean’s heartbeat and his breaths and trying to sync their bodies together. He watched Dean exhale, and then with a nod that felt so heavy it nearly broke his neck, Castiel turned around and walked away, disappearing into the crowd and walking over to his roommates.

The one closest to him had a girl next to him, and he looked a little irritated as Cas walked up, but Castiel paid no mind. “I think I’m gonna head back,” he said over the music. “I have a headache.”

“Alright, man,” his roommate said, but he was clearly focused on the girl who was trying to drape herself over him. Castiel was grateful for it, because he probably would have seen the tears in his eyes if he had paid any more attention. He flew past everyone that he “knew” and right to the door, not even turning back as he ran away.

The walk to get there had been five minutes, but Castiel was fast. He turned it into a little under a minute, booking it down the street. He was running so fast, with so much clouding his mind, that he didn’t even realize it was beginning to drizzle. The drizzling turned into downpour just as fast as he approached his building, and his eyes were burning with tears as he chose to take the empty stairs rather than risk running into someone in the elevator.

Every step made his legs feel heavier, and made his heart ache travel even deeper into his soul. Every step was a step away from Dean, and away from the person he used to be when Dean loved him. His hope was torn to shreds in that very moment, and he knew that there was absolutely nothing that he could do for Dean Winchester.

But he would do himself a favor and leave his memories of Dean back home, where the other Winchesters still loved him, and where they used to have their whole lives ahead of them planted out onto different sides of the same path, running parallel with ivy growing from left and right and intertwining. Castiel was stumbling all through it, tripping with every step and cursing every single seed that he and Dean had ever placed into the ground together. And he had a feeling that he would be falling and getting back up for a long, long time.

********

hey! i'm writing again for real, i guess, because i have a destiel miniseries! never thought i would post again, let alone switch fandoms and do a miniseries. i'm so glad to be back even if it’s with a completely different group of people! there are so so so so so many talented destiel authors and i am so happy to contribute something (even if it’s shit) to the pile.

i'm excited yet nervous about this one (i love destiel so much that i will always be afraid to do them a disservice), so any and all feedback is worth so much to me! i hope you liked it 💕

[beautysurvives]

*not done with this, may or may not finish it, wanted to post anyway*

a little (nsfw) destiel fic set immediately after the events of 10x14 The Executioner’s Song

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Cas doesn’t have to knock. He knows that.

Dean knows that too.

About two years ago, when they thought he was gonna move in, for a second, before Gadreel — before Dean — made that impossible, he’d allowed himself to fantasize about having a boyfriend who’s there when he comes home. Falls asleep in his bed in the middle of the day and stays there. Content to wait. Hold down the fort while he’s away.

For the first time, Cas actually wanted to stay. As a matter of fact, he had to. He was persona non grata among his family once again. All the hope of going back, being welcomed with open arms, slowly dying.

And, like all the other angels, his wings were gone. He couldn’t just fly away anymore.

But Dean liked to think it was more than that. More than just needing a place to stay. More than having nowhere else to go. More than losing his wings.

Cas had finally become human, and he wanted to stay.

He calls his name through the closed door — closed, not locked — and Dean says, “Yeah,” trying, the same way he did earlier in the kitchen with Sam, to conjure up some life.

But it comes out even more hopeless. Shaky, weak. His chances of fooling Cas are somehow even lower without Sam in the room.

With Sam, at least, it feels possible to pretend, despite how well he knows him — or thinks he knows him, sometimes. They at least have the courtesy to ignore each other’s falling apart until it becomes too much. Stay nestled in their usual roles for as long as they both can.

But Cas has his angel thing, his sixth sense that can see past any of Dean’s bullshit. See into his soul. Plunge through his skin — right through his skull — with just his eyes.

And then he’s also got that thing about his personality that won’t let him leave well enough alone. That’s how he knew about the mark in the first place. Dean had tried his best to avoid it, but all he’d really done was delay the inevitable. All he had to do was get one good look, and he was bound to, sooner or later.

Dean watches him walk in — see, Cas didn’t wait for permission. He didn’t have to, and he knew it. The knock was just a pretense, acknowledging the existence of boundaries, because he understands now that human beings have those.

But opening the door, walking in, it says what Cas always says. Su casa, mi casa.

Your body, my body.

That’s just how Heaven is. How Heaven raised him. He can’t be blamed.

There used to be a time when Dean was grateful for the familiarity.

Cas clears his throat awkwardly. A habit Dean thinks he picked up, maybe, from his recent time spent as a man, experiencing phlegm. No grace in him to burn it away. All those muscles he’d barely ever used. Barely knew were there. Suddenly activating.

“I can heal your injuries, if you want.”

Dean laughs before nodding. “Yeah, okay.” It’s still effortless, to laugh at Cas’s squint and head tilt combo, the way, for all his divine insight, he remains so befuddled — so easily distracted — by social interactions. Dean doesn’t have to try hard to deceive him as long as he can confuse him.

But right now, Cas seems completely focused on his task, advancing on the gash near Dean’s eyebrow with determination. He brushes a finger over it, and Dean feels his grace rushing in — but only so far. Only this one spot.

He intends to take his time. Split Dean into sections. Do him one by one.

When Dean opens his eyes, he sees a second of uncertainty. Not knowing where to go next. What part of Dean to touch.

What does it mean that he chose me over Crowley?

Dean had always intended to kiss him; he was simply biding his time. Now just makes sense, because Cas is between his legs, just barely pressing him back into the edge of the desk, one hand resting on his hip, the other hovering near his bruised jaw.

Dean kisses him, and Cas closes his eyes, seeming just as sure about this as he is (of course, Dean can never really tell, with Cas). Fingers ghosting along his jaw. Letting Dean lick his way into his mouth, push away his trenchcoat to run his hands along his sides. He can hear the soft ringing of Cas’s grace before he feels its warmth in his bones, filling the side of his face with light.

Dean pulls him close, and the mark wants him to tear his clothes off, throw him against the wall, bite his neck so hard—

“Sorry.” He pulls back, only as much as the desk and the wall and Cas’s hands allow.

Cas quickly looks away. Back to healing, like nothing ever happened. “You don’t have to apologize.”

He moves on to Dean’s screaming, nearly dislocated shoulder, hand hovering dangerously close to the imprint of his palm — now just a constellation of faded, moon shaped scars that most of Dean’s hookups ignore.

“I know that the mark can make you do things you don’t necessarily want to do.”

Like what? Running off with Crowley?

Making the first move, instead of waiting for you to do something like I always do?

“But you’re doing a great job at fighting it. I admire you, Dean.” He says it the way he once said, I don’t envy your position.

The mark wants Dean to kill him.

But maybe, for tonight, it’ll settle for fucking him senseless.

Cas closes his eyes, displeasure written on his face. Like there’s something not quite right about the injury, something that can better be addressed by sliding Dean’s flannel further down, slipping his hand under his t-shirt, taking Dean’s whole shoulder and gripping tight before he turns the light on again. Dean bites back a gasp, wanting nothing more than to give in entirely, open the floodgates of his soul and feel Castiel’s restored grace running through his whole body.

Getting fucked senseless might be just as good.

He buries his face in Cas’s chest and lets out a small back of the throat whine. Presses his lips into the linen that always smells like the last time Jimmy Novak was in it. Detergent and sweat and fear and blood. He takes the breast pocket between his teeth as Cas squeezes tighter, and the grace feels almost uncomfortably hot, and then perfectly cool. Feels like if being set on fire was a good thing.

Feels like a part of him returning — like his body slowly reaching dynamic equilibrium, things falling into place with ease.

Like coming home.

He must seem like a wild animal to him. A panting, salivating, hot mess. Bleeding knuckles and broken fingers. Something less evolved.

All the times they fucked or messed around, it was never like this. Dean liked — likes to be clean, and he liked to treat Cas — all powerful angel Cas, who made Crowley his bitch and turned himself into God — gently. Easily broken Cas. Angel statuette, Cas.

Dean liked uncreating him, watching him regress from something made of marble to soft wet clay. From heaven’s soldier to something like a man. He liked to think they’d have time to work their way up to the kind of wild, ruthless sex he’d had with Emma’s mom, when he was trying to move on. Or with Crowley.

“Sorry,” Dean says again, just as the light leaves Cas’s hand. He pulls away, and Dean finds his shoulder is moveable again, even better than before.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

Dean sighs and closes his eyes, cringing. But he has to say it anyway, no matter how pathetic. “Just — uh. I’m sure you don’t wanna have to touch me… like this.”

He opens his eyes to check — and Good, he thinks. It hurt the way it was designed to.

“Dean-” He sighs, looking down. Neither of them willing to face the thing head on.

But Cas surprises him, taking him by the arm. The mark sings under his palm, burning with a different kind of pain than the rest of his yet-to-be-healed body. An unbearable kind of pain. It never stops. It begs to be able to stop.

He doesn’t have to say it. If I could heal this with my grace, I would.

Dean says, “I know, Cas. I know.”

Cas lifts his chin and kisses him again in a way that quickly becomes voracious. It’s possible he thinks this is the only way Dean wants to be kissed now. The only reason Dean would want to be kissed by him.

Dean can taste the wrath of Heaven on his tongue. Then he can taste the grace. Like everything with Cas, it’s familiar. Although, technically, even this belongs to someone else. And now Dean’s soul is marred by someone else’s touch, his latest resurrection owed to a different force. Both of them a mutating patchwork of borrowed things. Less and less like who they were when they first met.

Still, this reminds Dean of being reborn.

It pains him to ask, between kissing and healing, “You don’t have anywhere to be tonight do you?” He knows the answer is no — Cas isn’t interested in anything anymore besides getting rid of the mark — but he’s remembering the last time he had him alone in this room. What he means is, There’s no one waiting for you, right?

No “females” outside, riding shotgun in Cas’s crappy pimp mobile.

He feels a flare of jealousy — an inferno really — at the memory of Hannah and the way she looked at him. His whole cult of angelic Cas-worshippers, at his beck and call, before his loyalty to Dean frightened them away.

Metatron’s rotating cast of suicide bombers, including Tessa — the first monster that Dean almost gave his life to, years before he knew what it was to have someone to live for — before someone like Cas appeared, who’d decided that his survival wasn’t contingent on Dean’s death. Who would’ve died before letting anything touch him. Who would put him first — before Sam. Before the world. Even before Heaven.

The whole cult episode reminded him just how common it was to kneel and pray to Castiel. How common he was — they all were. Weak to his persuasion. Not just humans. Not just demons. Other angels — even reapers. Sheep, to him. God’s Chosen.

At the time, when the mark was still fresh and its effects still unexpected, the moment brought back every ugly thing that had passed between them. Everything Dean had already forgiven. All of the worst things about loving Cas.

“No,” the angel says calmly. “The only place I need to be is here… As long as this is where you want me.”

Hope in his eyes. It would be so easy to snuff it out.

If what Cain said is true, there will come a day when Dean won’t hesitate.

“You already know I want you here.”

He proves it. Cas lets him for a moment, then he pulls away.

“You’re still hurt.”

“So you’re saying you don’t-”

“I’m saying, let me finish what I’m doing. Then you can — ravish me to your heart’s desire.”

Dean laughs. “Fine.”

While Cas works on his knee, Dean looks at his own half-bare arms, flannel bunching at his elbows where Cas pushed it down. He clears his throat loudly. “Do you need me to take off my clothes?”

He adds a “Doctor?” for good measure, purring the word in Cas’s ear.

At first he smiles, and then there’s a brief flash of pain — thinking, again, about what he can’t heal. But the look becomes determination.

“Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Dean says as he lets it fall. Cas’s eyes rake over him — lingering for maybe a second on the mark, but then the rest of him too. His skin, speckled with little bruises. Cuts and abrasions. The tightness of his t-shirt, which hides even more than it reveals.

“Well… this is just a routine checkup, so there’s really no need.”

Dean sighs so quiet that Cas doesn’t catch it. You’re supposed to be, like, saving my life or something, he moans internally. But he decides to just roll with the weak improvisation, at the same time that Cas says, “You can keep this on for now,” taking his time to look up from Dean’s chest, just enough to meet his eyes.

It still gives him goosebumps, being checked out like that.

Big difference between him and Crowley — Crowley made Dean feel wanted, yeah. Sexy even. But Cas makes him feel beautiful.

This time when Cas kisses him, it’s better. Soft, not full of fire. But like a first kiss between strangers who are only just discovering how much they like each other.

Dean answers with his eyes closed, half out of character. “Well you’re not supposed to do that.”

“I apologize,” he says, becoming shy. “I don’t know what came over me… I suppose I uh, I find it difficult to focus on doing my job properly in the presence of someone I find so… alluring.” His eyes flutter open just as Cas leans back. “But you’re right. That was completely unprofessional, and it won’t happen again. You’re owed the same high level of care as all my other patients… Of course I understand if you’d prefer to be seen by someone else.”

Dean swallows the lump in his throat, straightening his back and gripping the desk with one hand, running the other through his hair. Here’s a chance to add some texture to the story. “Uuhm, well, honestly, Doctor — even though I can and probably should report this behavior to your bosses, I think I’m willing to look past this little slip, because…” He bites his lip while he thinks of something workable and not too cliche, leaning into the nervous patient thing, maybe in over his head but still determined to get what he came for. “Well, even though this is just a routine check up, I’ve heard about… how good you are at taking care of people. I guess I wanted at least one chance to see for myself how you’d, uh, handle a case like me.”

Cas blinks. “A case like you…? From what I saw on your chart, you don’t have any pre-existing conditions — is there something bothering you, mis-”

“Maybe you can figure out what it is.”

Cas nods. “Maybe we should continue the examination.”

“Uh-huh. You said keep on the shirt, right? So pants and shoes.” Cas steps back to let him swing his leg up onto the desk, watches him lift the leg of his jeans and unlace his leather boots.

He kicks that one off and does the other, and when he’s done Cas says, “Very good. While you were removing your shoes, I noticed that you had some difficulty bending your limbs.” He takes his spot again, between Dean legs, laying a hand on each thigh. “Are you experiencing any pain — or swelling? Are your pants unusually tight?”

“…Yeah actually. Can you-”

Cas looks him in the eye as he undoes his belt, takes it by the silver buckle and pulls it free, lays it aside and within reach. He tugs the button roughly before he unfastens it, but unzipping the fly is so gentle, quick and precise Dean’s not even sure when it’s done. “Lift your butt off the table so I can pull down your pants.” Dean is quick to obey, watching as Cas kneels down, bringing them to Dean’s ankles, then taking his feet and guiding them out one at a time.

He stays there, observing his legs with furrowed brows. “Well, the source of the swelling is… very apparent, but you’ve got a lot of scrapes and bruises on your legs. You must be very clumsy.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean agrees. “The clumsiest.”

“That’s unfortunate. You don’t deserve to get hurt so often. What do you do for work?”

He cycles through a handful of easy responses. Cocktail waitress, stripper, prostitute. Construction worker, lion tamer, stuntman. “Uh… I’m a body double. Like in movies. One of those guys who gets set on fire or falls off a motorcycle or, uh, shows his ass when the actor doesn’t want to. Last movie I did — bondage stuff.”

“I see. Well, if you’re interested, I can give you something now to address these scars. It’s an experimental method of treatment. And I promise it has nothing to do with… what happened earlier, or my personal feelings. But it does require me to use my mouth.”

Dean’s eyebrows fly so high they might as well grow wings of their own. He coughs to cover up choking. “Okay… I trust you. Do…” Deep breath. “Whatever you think is best.”

Cas says nothing, barely nods, shifting so that he’s on his knees. Dean stiffens reflexively as he leans close, warming his thigh with his even, barely-there breaths.

Dean gasps as the breath travels down to his shin. Cas lowers his sock, and Dean watches his mouth glow from within.

He just barely presses these soft bright lips to Dean’s tender skin, healing the sprain underneath. And then slowly trailing his healing kisses up. Excruciatingly slow.

Torn calf muscle, scraped knee. He puts a hand around the back of it to steady himself, and Dean wraps his other leg around him on instinct. “Fuck — sorry,” he says, but Cas is too busy to give him a response. Too focused on doing his job. By the time he reaches the inner thigh, Dean is trembling, hissing, “Cascascas — stop.” He waves a hand in his face to get his attention, then lets it fall limply onto the desk.

“You gotta slow down. You’re kinda driving me nuts.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” And his prideful little smirk isn’t helping, especially not while he’s wearing Dean’s leg like a sash. “I thought this was an efficient way to achieve our shared goals.”

“Yeah. Maybe a little too efficient.”

“You mean you want this to take long?” Dean nods — duh. “That’s good. So do I.”

Goddammit…

“Okay… then you better get the Hell up… and maybe don’t talk as much.”

“I thought you wanted me to be more communicative.”

He rolls his eyes openly. Cas really isn’t making this any easier.

“That was last time.” Cas was human then — Dean thought he should probably be trained — and they were in the backseat of Baby, a few blocks away from the Gas n Sip.

He tries not to think about it.

He has to look away as Cas slowly rises to his feet, and he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as soon as the hand around his leg tightens, and the other grabs his thigh to hoist Cas’s body up the rest of the way.

Oh my God, Dean mouths. It’s been too long, and he wants Cas too much. Even the mark can’t erase that constant longing. The mark just makes it hurt.

Cas heals his other leg without telling him. This one is almost like a slap in the face. The kind that wakes you up. Sends a jolt through his whole body.

“If your problem right now, Dean, is that you’re too attracted to me, I’m really not sure how we can fix it. Should we tone it down with the doctor stuff? Or… maybe you should just not look at me? I don’t know.”

“Didn’t I say don’t talk?” he nearly begs.

Cas goes quiet, looking down at Dean’s burden, straining to be freed. “You know,” he says, taking pleasure in his own disobedience, meeting Dean’s eyes with an intense gaze, something teasing underneath, “we could just bring you to orgasm now. I’m sure I could help you become erect again relatively quickly.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to be quiet — a pause that only lasts about half as long as Cas’s before he says, “Yeah okay.”

He’s about 75% sure that Cas has worked some magic to make the minutes feel like hours — if they were minutes at all. All he knows is that time doesn’t exist. All there is is Cas’s middle finger still inside him. Still with its rhythmic pulse. The thumb of his other hand gently coaxing out the last of a never-ending orgasm, so intense there’s an element of pain that reminds Dean of being shocked. Muscles tensing. Holding his breath.

His command, when he decides that it’s over — when he knows that Dean is too calm, too soft and content to do much, other than what he’s told — other than whatever will make Cas happy — when he’s certain that the mark hasn’t taken that from him yet — “Why don’t you remove your shirt and wait for me on the bed.”

He lets him go, weak and tingling. Wobbly deer legs take him just far enough to safely collapse.

For a while Cas comes in and out of view — Dean assumes he’s cleaning up their mess, and maybe fixing the laptop that they knocked to the floor — but he leans down to tug on Dean’s shirt.

“Dean. I asked you to take this off.”

“Shit, sorry, my bad,” he says as he pulls it up over his head and tosses it away. He lays down on his belly and closes his eyes. He could fall asleep here, like this, knowing that Cas is close and busy.

The mark wants Dean to kill him, but he can hardly hear it over the ringing in his ears. Church bells.

“Are you healing me again?”

Cas gives an affirmative grunt, and Dean starts rolling his eyes, but it feels too nice, and Cas predicts the thing that makes it even better, swinging a leg over to trap Dean under him.

His fingers trace down his back, following the arrow of his spine.

“When I first met you, you had so many scars here,” he says unexpectedly.

Dean frowns — when they first met, he was as unblemished as a newborn. Then he realizes that Cas is talking about Hell, or his grave. Dean’s corpse, or whatever he was before Cas saved him. Something out of The Walking Dead. “I’d never seen a human being who had suffered so many assaults.”

Dean’s not sure why he laughs. “Bullshit.”

“Well I mean… up close. I'd spent a lot of time — watching humanity. But…” It’s no longer about healing; he’s rubbing up and down his back absentmindedly, coveting the pleasing sound Dean makes when he finds his way to the back of his head, takes a fistful of hair and gives it a gentle tug. Ruffles his hair and smooths it down, and in the process pushing the side of his face down into the bed, softly kneading the aching muscles at the base of his skull.

“My first vessel… she’d never gotten hurt before, physically. Not even so much as a broken arm.

“She was her father’s prized possession. But when the family fell on hard times, he was willing to sell her into a marriage with a man who he called his friend. So she turned to God for help.

“And when He didn’t answer, she considered joining a convent. She was about to, before I…”

“Got her killed?”

“No, I… After our final mission together, I reported back to Anna, alone. I said that I had been ambushed and lost my vessel in the process…”

“… You told her to run, didn’t you?”

He chuckles quietly. “For years, I was convinced that Anna knew. Just… waiting for the punishment I was certain I had earned. But it never came…” Cas shrugs.

“Or maybe it did. I mean, for all I know, they reprogrammed me right after, and allowed me to believe I was… improving on my own.”

Improving on my own.

Dean remembers the Castiel that raised him from perdition. Tried to talk to him twice — but for some reason, Dean wasn’t one of those special people who could hear what he had to say.

They all — Dean, Sam, Bobby, Pamela — forced Cas to appear, and burned Pamela’s eyes out in the process. Of course, Dean is more to blame for that than anyone.

He wonders now, not for the first time, if Cas could’ve left Jimmy and his family out of it — if only Dean hadn’t been so desperate to see him. To know who and what he was and why he wanted Dean bad enough to defy nature. To prove it to himself.

If Dean had just left well enough alone — if he wasn’t always so fucking needy — would Cas have ever knocked on the Novaks’ door? Would he have chosen some other vessel — some other family from a list of alternates? Would he have returned to the battlefield at all?

“Are you falling asleep?” Cas asks him.

“Well no need to sound so hopeful.”

“No — it’s not — I just mean… It’s a good sign, for you to be feeling tired. It means you’re still functioning normally.”

“Yeah,” he answers shakily. “It is good, isn’t it?”

“But,” Dean adds a moment later, “I don’t wanna be one of those guys who only cares about himself.”

“You could never be.”

He turns onto his back, laughing and groaning at the same time. “I mean, what about you, Cas?”

He waggles his brows suggestively, and Cas laughs and hides his face. It’s the most human he’s ever looked.

When he meets his gaze his eyes are heavy with lust, the humor slowly fading. “I understand what you’re saying… But your condition-”

“I wanna feel normal as long as I can, Cas.” God. It makes him sound terminal.

In a way, he is.

“And if normal looks like getting dicked down by an angel who kinda sucks at roleplay, I think I can live with that.”

“… I don’t suck.”

“Yeah you do. Little bit. Come on, admit it.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I will not.”