#you can't meet cas where he stands. as he said in the confession 'he cared about the whole world because of dean'.

[shshshshshowrunner]

Man, maybe not. Hero? you'd be surprised the feats they can accomplish with their lives on the line.

falling down a wikipedia hole trying to figure out what the fuck kind of animal i came from

[theheartchoice]

post-15.19 coda  |  dean/cas  |  dean + sam  |  1.3k  |  ao3 

"We're all set here."

Dean hums as Sam brushes his hands together in his periphery. He didn't even realise they were so close to finishing the set up. 

"Now it's just a matter of timing." 

Timing. Cas had the worst timing. Saying something like that at a time like that, leaving Dean with more questions than answers. 

"Dean?" 

"..Huh?" 

"You okay? You spaced-out, for a minute there." 

"Yeah, I'm just—" he waves a hand around, trying and failing to capture what he's feeling. 

"Look, about Jack," Sam steps closer, voice dipping to a tone that means sympathy and support, the kind that gets a work out on a case. "I know things with you two have always been kind of complicated, and I can imagine that him not bringing Cas back has only made things harder—" 

"—Woah, Sam. No. I get it—really. He's hands off, y'know? Probably for the best. Meddling was Chuck's problem, it's how everything got so screwed up in the first place." Not that he's palming all his mistakes off on bad writing, but still. Jack not intervening is a good thing, in a way. 

"Yeah, I guess. Makes you wonder if he might not condone what we're doing here, you know?" 

Dean hums again. "But you'd think if he let anyone have one more get-out-of-jail-free card it'd be Cas. Who knows, maybe Jack's rootin' for us."

"Yeah, maybe," Sam chuckles. "Don't worry. It's gonna work."

That's sort of what Dean's worried about. 

"You seem nervous."

Maybe Sam could help. 

"You sure you're okay?" 

"I just—" how does he even phrase it? "When Cas was—I mean, before he saved me, he.. said some stuff." 

"What kind of stuff?" 

"Big stuff. Deathbed confession, type-stuff." 

"Confession? What did he—" and realisation dawns on Sam, because of-fucking-course it does. "Oh."

No use hiding it now. "Yeah, 'oh'."

"So. He finally told you." 

Wait what? "What d'you mean finally?" 

"Dean." And there's so much in just that one word. "Cas has been in love with you for.. well, I don't know how long, exactly. A while, I think. Years." 

Dean's lungs empty in a rush. "Okay, see, that's the thing: he's an Angel, Sam."

"Yeah, I kinda picked up on that."

Dean sends him a bitch face but Sam just smiles. "Tha—it's a human emotion. Angels don'—they can't feel that way." Right?

"Serafina did."

"Pretty sure she and Adam from the freakin' Garden of Eden knew each other for more than a few years. More like eons." 

"Since when does time determine love?" Sam gets a look Dean remembers from when he'd talk about the past, about Jess. Probably not something he wants to bring up right now, seeing as how Eileen's right outside. 

"Cas is my best friend, but he's literally older than the world." 

"So it's an age-thing?" 

"Wh—? No!" Dean takes a deep breath, to steady himself, steady his train of thought. "I know Cas is an Angel, okay? I mean, there's the mojo, and the not-sleeping, and he saw the first fish crawl outta the ocean—the whole nine. That's not what's botherin' me." Sam waits patiently. "I know he cares. I just don't know if.." If he feels the same way I do. "If he really feels the way he thinks he does. About me, about love, an'.." Dean swallows. "Love."

For all his tact in handling witnesses during a case (people who're at their most vulnerable), Sam fucking snickers. 

Dean glares daggers; half-hurt, half not surprised because isn't that how little brothers are supposed to act? They laugh at their sibling's relationship troubles? But Sam gets it, because his face softens. 

"Dean. Maybe Angels do feel things differently from Humans. In fact, it's pretty much guaranteed. But Cas has always been different from the rest of them. And I've been here over the years, you know. I've seen it." 

"Seen what?" 

"The way he looks at you. And I never thought it was some big secret, I mean—you saw it too! And you looked at him the same way." 

"Did not!" Sam gives him that: c'mon Dean you can't fool me here face, and he let's it go. Sam's probably not wrong. 

"What did you say? After he told you."

"I.." Nothing. He told Cas—begged him not to do it that way—but everything was happening so fast, and there was a decade's worth of doubt stopping Cas' words—those three huge words—from sinking in. Even after, as everything finally hit him and he curled up on the dungeon floor and cried his freakin' eyes out, even then, even now, he still doesn't know what he would've said if he had the moment again. "There was no time."

Sam nods. "Well, now there is. You guys can talk—"

"—What if I'm right?" Sam's brow crinkles at that. "I mean, no offence Sam, but I know him better than you do. What if.. what Cas feels, is.." he trails off, unable to get the words out. 

"..Are you worried he's not in love with you, or that he is?" 

One sounds better than the other. Both sound kinda terrifying. 

Sam sighs, and it's almost pitiful.

"I don't wanna lose him." As a friend, most of all. Because if Cas misunderstood the whole love-confession thing being for non-brotherly love then Dean won't say anything, obviously, but it'll hurt. Cas will be back but things will be different—worse actually, because that whole thing with The Empty made him confront his own feelings (or stop suppressing them, at least). Cas isn't just a friend to him, and it's not familial either. But can they go back to being 'just friends' after everything? Can Dean? 

"Dean, no matter what happens you're not going to lose him. Just look at everything the two of you have already been through."

Now there's a distracting and somewhat depressing train of thought. Apocalyptic times can't tear them apart, not for good, and even death is nothing new. It would be a painful joke of cosmic proportions if the thing that actually ruins their friendship is love. 

"Do you love him?" Dean's head snaps up to meet Sam's eyes. "Are you in love with Cas?" 

Eileen returns before he can think of a way to deflect, cutting off anymore talk about it. 

She gestures to Sam and he tells Dean, "It's time. You ready?" 

Dean's not sure what he would've said but the truth is best kept for Cas' ears anyway. And Sam's right. They have time. They can talk, and hopefully they'll figure things out and where they stand with as little heartache as possible. There's no avoiding it, not now, not after everything. He nods, steeling his resolve. "Yeah. I'm ready." 

At least he knows Chuck is no longer pulling their strings and that whatever happens from here on out it really is just him and Cas. The thought never even crossed his mind that Cas' confession might be Chuck's doing. Chuck didn't care enough about him to bother, and besides: Cas was always the rebel against God's story.

Dean steps over the threshold of painted sigils, taking his place in the centre of the circle. As Sam starts chanting he feels his worry over the truth of Cas' words ebb away and hope flow in to supplant it. The phantom scar of a handprint on his shoulder from when Cas rescued from Hell seems to flare to life and brand itself back into Dean's flesh, and the only thing going through his mind is: what if Cas really is in love with me? He smiles at the thought. 

As the glowing portal tears into existence before him he remembers something else Cas said to him, back when Dean was questioning his whole reality. Cas was steadfast and sincere as ever as he held Dean's eye and told him that they were real. And for the first time Dean knows that to be true. He feels it in his very soul. 

With his hand raised he moves towards the portal and braces for some kind of inter-dimensional shift, but he's not scared. This is the right thing to do, for both of them. 

Time to grip an Angel tight and raise him from perdition. 

[corancoranthemagicalman]

💜💜🌻💜💜🌻💜💜

Thank you so much 💜 my day was stressful and mentally taxing but overall it was fine :) i am so so flattered/flustered that you want to gift me something in return- i never expect anything when i'm penguin anon. And irl i'm trying to be better at accepting things from people. so if you really would like to gift me something here are some tropes i like: cas gardening (sorry i can't get away from flowers/plants!), dadstiel with baby or toddler jack, general domestic fluff, anything that explores cas & dean healing/character growth 💜 but i honestly don't expect anything in return for my hearts and flowers. They are freely given 💜💜🌻💜💜🌻💜💜

-🐧🌻

I’m sorry to hear it was stressful for you, dear. I’m glad that overall it wasn’t too bad for you, though. I hope this cheers you up? I’m a few hours later with it because I get distracted big time in research. Like figuring out that Dean was 22 when Shrek came out. Which had literally no bearing on this, but was fun to figure out. The hearts and flowers are more than appreciated. 💕🌺🌺💕

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

When Dean was four, he watched his mother hold his baby brother to the blooming sunflowers she kept in the backyard. Mom said they were called Sunriches. They were named that because they were like golden suns. Dean thought the sun was golden, but when he tried looking at it, the sun was just a bright, white color. Blinding. Dad said he couldn’t look at the sun without hurting himself, so he stopped trying.

What he could look at was Mom holding Sammy. He was only a couple of months old, but Mom was excitedly talking to him as if he could talk back. Dad said he wouldn’t be able to talk for a while. That didn’t seem to bother Mom. She was content to describe the flowers to Sammy. They were taller than Dean was. Mom said they wouldn’t get any bigger, but one day Dean would be tall enough to hold Sammy up to the flower petals. He looked forward to that.

Mom looked pretty in her dress, from Dean’s memory of the time. Her skirt swayed in the autumn wind in time with the petals dancing in the breeze. It was ethereal, like a princess talking to animals. Except instead of a squirrel on her shoulder there was a baby in her arms. Dean thought it looked like magic.

A few months later, when Dean was finally trusted with holding Sammy in his arms, he was running out of his burning home.

He didn’t think about the sunflowers they left behind.

Read more undercut or check it out on AO3!

Later in life, when Dean was flirting too close to a stable relationship with a reporter, he idly thumbed at the petals of the Suntastic Yellows. He remembered his mom telling him that they were the tiniest sunflowers. The type they used in bouquets. Cassie had a small pot resting on her windowsill.

Cassie’s hands drew around his waist from behind him. Humming into his neck, Cassie drew him backward with her. He thought about it in an absent sense, walking away from the sunflowers.

“You know,” she whispered against the shell of his ear, “they say that sunflowers track the sun all throughout the day.”

“Oh, really?” Dean smirked, taking her lips in his own. She was wonderful, really. Too wonderful. Wonderful enough that Dean thought about confessing everything to her. Cassie would understand. She was clever and understanding. Hell, maybe she’d even accept him.

It was too bad, then, that when Dean told her what he did—what he was—that she didn’t believe him. Dean wouldn’t have believed himself either. Walking away with his keys in his hand and his heart at his feet, Dean wondered if this is what it would always feel like. If he would always have to walk away from the place his heart was trying to make into a home. Maybe it was something about being a sunflower. Always tracking the sun throughout the day.

Too bad Dean couldn’t find the damn sunlight.

“Dude, look!” Dean grinned during another part of his life, pointing at some old lady’s front garden full of Taiyos. “It’s like Shrek.” He teased his brother, elbowing Sam who only rolled his eyes in return.

“Shrek? Really?” Sam scoffed. “How old were you when that even happened?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “What? You’re telling me you didn’t go watch the cinematic masterpiece known as Shrek with all of your college buddies?”

Sam rolled his eyes again, huffing with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sure, Dean. And then we watched Holiday in the Sun right after, too.”

“Never took you for a Mary-Kate and Ashley fan, Sammy.” Dean grinned, watching the sunflowers swaying in the breeze from the corner of his eye.

They looked peaceful in the witness’ front yard. Untouched by the grueling werewolf that was lurking through the small town. Dean could hear Sam’s sharp inhale from beside him.

“I always thought sunflowers were… homey,” Sam confessed, watching the sunflowers dance with a furrowed brow.

Shooting Sam a crooked grin, Dean stepped forward toward the sunflowers but he didn’t dare touch them. “I’m not surprised,” he began. “Mom used to grow them. She started taking you out into the garden as soon as you stopped crying all the time.”

Sam was silent for a moment, causing Dean to look at him with concern. It wasn’t often that Sam was quiet, but when he was it was always a contemplative silence. “I didn’t know that.” He spoke softly.

“You wouldn’t have remembered.” Dean shrugged, stepping onto the witness’ walkway to begin making their way up to the door. “These are a bit taller than hers were. But then again, everything seemed taller then.”

There was another moment of contemplative silence, but it seemed Sam had nothing left to say. He knocked on the witness’ door, taking care not to meet Dean’s eye. Dean wondered what that meant. Wondered if Sam felt the same way when he saw sunflowers.

Then again, Sam had always been larger than life. Tall and proud.

When Dean was on the aching side of forty, he watched Castiel hold their four-year-old son to the blooming sunflowers he kept in the backyard. Cas had been enchanted by the Little Beckas when he had seen them. While they might not have been the tallest—or the smallest—of sunflowers, he had thought they were lovely. Dean had made a quip about their halo and bought Cas seeds the same day.

Watching Cas and Jack reminded Dean of being four and trying to see what color the sun was. It was blinding, something he felt he should look away from lest it hurt him. But he found that he couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to watch Cas answer every question Jack had.

He was beautiful, Dean often thought, but especially in moments like these. The cuffs of his jeans were muddied and his bare feet were buried in the soil where he sat with Jack in his lap. Dean hated how Cas refused to wear shoes outside, but he had claimed to like being closer to the Earth. Dean couldn’t argue with him. He wouldn’t argue with him; not for what made him happy.

Cas turned to look at him, catching his gaze and drawing him closer with just a look. Dean moved without hesitation, standing beside Cas and kicking at his knee with his booted foot. His approach drew Jack’s attention away from the flowers, who clapped excitedly the closer he got.

“Whaddya think, Jack? Do you like the colors?” Dean hummed, watching Jack’s gummy smile as the kid waved up at him.

“Daddy says that sunflowers face East!” He pointed enthusiastically, laughing and reaching for the blooms in front of him.

Dean frowned, looking from Cas to the flowers. “I thought sunflowers rotated with the sun or whatever.”

Cas hummed, tilting his head with a nod. “They do, in their youth.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. “But when they mature, the sunflowers learn that they get the most light during the morning hours when the sun has just risen from the East.” Bouncing Jack momentarily and causing the boy to giggle, Cas turned to face Dean. “They just learn what’s healthiest for them. It just takes time.”

Inhaling sharply, Dean wondered if this was it. If this was his East. Watching a smiling Jack and Cas whispering about sunflowers that—while not the tallest or the smallest—were a halo of colors. Two colors that came together, that never faded, that bloomed to life in this tiny garden he called home. He was a dark heart and a bright halo, smiling toward the bright, white sunlight of a gummy smile and clapping hands.

With a grunt, Dean lowered himself to the soil, sitting beside Cas and wrapping his arm around Cas’ shoulder. “These little guys are pollen-less,” he spoke to Jack. “That’s why we got the honeysuckles.”

“Honeysuckles stand for devotion.” Cas’ voice rumbled gently. “In the ancient Celtic alphabet, the symbol that the Ogham carved into stone to represent the honeysuckle stood for following one’s path.”

Dean snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sort of counterintuitive. Since, yanno, Free Will.” He quipped, raising a curious brow toward Cas.

Bowing his head in concession, Cas continued. “Yes, that is true. The Druids meant it more like… trusting one’s gut. Rather than sticking to the story.” He grinned, rocking with Jack in his arms for a moment. “But the honeysuckle is rather hard to kill. That is why it means everlasting devotion.”

“Deaths don’t stick, huh?” Dean hummed, squeezing Cas closer into his side. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Cas exhaled a laugh, resting his head atop Jack’s. “The Chinese valued the honeysuckle for its healing properties. It can be a cooling herb to remove toxins.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’ cheek, keeping his lips there for a moment longer before pulling away. “Even if the honeysuckle can’t heal ‘em, the sunflowers like the company anyway.” He smiled softly, watching as Cas’ eyes turned dewy toward him. “And ‘sides, the honeysuckle brings all the bees to the yard.”

Snorting laughter that Jack joined in without knowing the cause, Cas shook his head. “I suppose so.” His attempt to suppress a smile made Dean’s own grin widen. “But the sunflower is more than enough company.”

“Damn straight,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips, kissing him slowly and savoring the moment.

Between them, Jack made exaggerated kissy faces, causing them to pull apart and watch him with amusement. He grinned, reaching up and holding Dean and Cas’ cheeks in his palms.

“Daddy and Poppa sittin’ in a tree!” Jack sang, giggling as he smushed their heads together.

Mocking a frown, Dean held his other hand out behind Jack’s back. His palm felt so large in comparison to how small Jack was. “Did Uncle Sam teach you that?”

“Yup!” Jack nodded enthusiastically, head bobbing as he continued to hum the song under his breath.

Cas gave another chuckle under his breath, looking from Jack to Dean. “I suppose we should head inside. We're still expecting Sam and Eileen for lunch.”

Dean stood with a groan as his knees ached. He reached out a hand to help Cas and Jack up, standing tall with his family in their little garden. Keeping their fingers intertwined, Dean didn’t have to think about the sunflowers they left behind.

They would be there as long as the sun was in the East.

[elizabethrobertajones]

I didn't really think destiel was gonna happen in 13x23, but I do feel like it's getting ridiculous how long they're stretching it out, to the point that I can't imagine how they'll do it anymore. I mean I've been here since the beginning, and after so many deaths/almost deaths, with neither of them ever taking the opportunity to say or do anything about their feelings, maybe they just don't have those feelings. What could possibly make them realize/act now after ten years when deaths didn't.

I’ve been here a long ass time too, and I don’t feel this way… I’m sorry, this seems to be Lizzy is Blunt About Everything Week, but I have to say this approach always feels to me like projecting your own exhaustion onto the narrative. As I was saying from the writer’s perspective, they have never tried to make Destiel canon before and have seen pretty much none of the moments we have as the opportunity to make it happen because unlike us they are not hanging on the moment that it might happen, and from their perspective, they have not been given the brief to write it as if it CAN go canon and at no point are they hanging in desperate expectation that the next scene they write is where it happens. Whether it’s because writers don’t ship it (which I feel may be more of a historical stance to the Dabb era room :P) or because they haven’t set out to create the narrative in which they are barrelling into it full well knowing it happens (as I said, we’re in the luxury of a hiatus knowing ourselves that so far it’s 13/13 for seasons where Dean has not smooched a guy or confessed his feelings to Cas and therefore we know at no point had the writers room worked towards this end with clear, serious and unstoppable intent with the blessing from above) they do not have this sense of anxiety or missed connections or the crushing weight of time passed. 

If they were to start crafting in season 14 the narrative towards Destiel, I think it would involve a lot of realisations which seem cripplingly obvious to us, to the point that we feel almost certain they’ve been realised before, that whether it was Dean’s 10x16 confession or the Empty telling Cas it knows he loves someone in 13x04 or whatever, the subtextual narrative is that these two idiots are fully aware of it, but the textual narrative written with a canon go ahead would have to re-cover ground for the people at the back which would feel like stuff we’ve known for years or that we’ve had definitive proof of for a while at least as far as we care down here in fandom. 

So every single missed opportunity or whatever would have a blank slate, you know? For the sake of conveying that NOW and only now the surface text narrative catches up with the subtext and Dean and Cas are allowed to visibly confront their feelings with open intent. Literally everything we’ve suffered through to that point would only be build up and suggestion, and only what is told surface text would truly shape how the relationship is openly conveyed as moving from ~vaguely defined but strongly felt family connection~ to romance. 

The point is, it feels different to write something than it does to consume that media, and the writing is much more detached and mechanical when it comes to stuff like this. No matter what has been put into building the relationship is not, so far, the steps to canon and I doubt the writers think of it that way compared to their job to convey main arc themes and plot and all the character stuff they know will come to bear on the main plot and themes.

Understanding this really makes it easier to bear and enjoy the Destiel stuff because you’re clear on the fact the writers are not conspiring and all those moments where Destiel didn’t go canon? Were never going to be the moment where Destiel went canon in the sense that the writers never had the full understanding that they could/would/should do it at that point. 

Like, as much as they may or may not ship it, or write the relationship positively, or make it clear how much they matter, or build a strong subtextual case that both love the other, the wall between Destiel and canon is as much as product of their situation as ours being strung along by them, and they’re not to blame for that, especially when we have hindsight. Especially for the perspective you have that the text is ~running out of chances~ or ~drawing on to long~

Destiel is a fresh, unused pitch for the writers’ room, and an untold story despite how much telling it has. If they were to set out to tell it, none of the roads not taken would come to bear on it in this sense. Dean n Cas are still fictional characters, still with internal motivations and feelings at the whims of the writers, and it’s 100% in their power to choose to make them feel like they have fallen in love for the first time in like, the latter half of season 18 when Cas accidentally puts his hand on Dean’s, and Dean looks up at him in wonder and meets his eye as they stand atop the Eiffel tower enjoying the Parisian sunset together.