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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year

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Deck the Halls

Castiel x plus size reader

It’s Christmas time in the bunker so it seems to be the right moment to introduce some new traditions!

Warnings: dean being crude, fluff, alcohol

WC: 1k

Square Filled: Matching Pyjamas @spnchristmasbingo

Minors DNI

SPN Christmas Bingo

“What exactly is the purpose of these clothes?” Castiel’s head was tilted to the right as he examined the colourful pile of fabric you had shoved into his arms. You just smiled sweetly at him and pecked his scruffy cheek before pushing him into your shared room in the bunker.

“It’s so we can match, angel! Now go get dressed and we can take photos.” You could tell he still didn’t understand but nodded and walked into the bedroom anyway, softly shutting the door behind him.

“He’s so pussy whipped.” Your head snapped to the side, glare immediately locking onto Dean who was lazily leaning against the brick wall of the hallway, casually sipping a beer. “Say that again Winchester, see where it gets you.” The shiver of fear that rolled down his spine was barely concealed by his nonchalant shrug.

“Besides, you’re wearing the pajamas too and I know for certain I have never and will never sleep with you.” He glanced down and cringed at the bright shirt and pants combo that you had thrown into his hands after returning from the mall earlier that day.

Yet, he still put them on, the same as Sam did, admittedly with the promise of a pecan and a cherry pie. Both of them knew it would make you happy, so they did it.

“Yeah well, I’m just in it for the pie.” He pouted, turning away from you like a spurned child.

“I love you too Dean!” You called after him as he stomped away. The smile never left your face. This Christmas would be different. Finally, all four of you were safe and living somewhere you could almost call a home.

So with a tree Sam helped pick up and haul inside, lights Cas was enchanted by, and a couple all-nighters filled with baking and cooking, it was time for your very first Team Free Will Christmas! And what better way to kick it off than with matching pajamas!

“Come on! We’ve got presents to open!” You excitedly yelled into the empty corridors, rushing to the war room where the tree, and the presents, had been stowed. The tell-tale clack of your boyfriend’s dress shoes against the stone floors made your smile even wider.

“How do I look?” You turned to look at him and your heart skipped a beat. You maybe, had purposefully bought him a size smaller than he would normally wear and dear god were you happy about that decision. The scratchy fabric clung beautifully to his powerful frame, letting you see the way his muscles flexed and rippled, even if he was still wearing his signature trench coat.

“You look beautiful angel.” You cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers immediately burying themselves in his short hair. Cas smiled along with you, although his expression still had a hint of confusion. “Thank you for doing this.”

His nose bumped gently into yours as he softly pressed your foreheads together. “I would do anything for you.” He spoke truthfully.

“Alright we’re here.” Sam lumbered into the room, obviously having been woken from a nap by Dean, red marks still spread across his cheeks from laying on his arms. Just like Cas, he wore the colourful clothes without complaint, all too happy to have something normal to do.

You sent an appreciative glance to your surrogate brother as he moved past, making a dash for the recliner Dean had dragged in a few weeks back.

Speak of the devil. You thought.

Dean came in last, a very full glass of eggnog in his hands that you suspect was mostly filled with the spiced rum you picked up along with the pajamas. “I hope your pie is friggin worth it.” He grumbled and sat down on one of the other chairs, sending his little brother a glare for taking his seat.

“Great!” With one last peck to your angel’s cheek, you skipped over to the tree and gathered up as many perfectly wrapped presents as you could, dumping a small pile in everyone’s laps. You sat in your own seat, pulling out your phone to film your boys like an excited mother.

Like the animal he was, the older Winchester shredded the wrapping paper in an effort to get to his presents. Ripped paper surrounded his legs like colourful snow.

Sam carefully slid his thumb under each piece of tape, ensuring he did not rip the wrapping. Then, once the present was completely unwrapped, he placed the paper to the side in a neat little pile by his feet.

Cas ripped off one stripe of paper from the middle of his gift, allowing him to simply pull it from the paper, leaving it most intact. He stuffed the trash in his pocket.

Your heart clenched as each of them studied what you had picked out for them, a comfortable silence settling over the bunker. Dean was easy to buy for, a nice bottle of whiskey that Bobby had been fond of and a new polish for Baby. Sam was less easy. You settled on a new spell book you might or might not have stolen from Rowena and a small iPod so he could listen to his podcasts while he ran.

But by far, Cas was the hardest to buy for. Being an angel, he wasn’t materialistic and probably wouldn’t have accepted a present if you hadn’t explained to him a few weeks before that you loved giving gifts to people. Like the others, you gave him two gifts.

The first was a large bottle of raw honey, a treat he enjoyed even if it did taste like molecules to him. And the second was a piece of paper he carefully pulled from the small envelope you had tucked it in. “What is it?” Ever impatient, Dean attempted to look over his friend’s shoulder, but Cas turned away, holding the paper tightly to his chest like a child trying to hide something.

“Thank you.” He murmured, overwhelmed with emotions he had not felt since he was human.

Leaning over, you captured his lips in a soft but loving kiss. “It was my pleasure angel.” You gave him one last peck, then stood up to fetch Dean his promised pie. As you left the room, you heard his raspy voice ask Castiel something.

“Is it porn?” The silence was deafening.

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theblondesimmer · 2 years

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Charlotte. A full lookbook. 🥑🐱

🧬Traits - Cat Lover / Vegetarian / Family Oriented

You can download her for free here!

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CC links under the cut!

Genetics: Skin Blend / Eyebrows / Eyebags / Skin Details / Eyes / Eyelashes / Skintone / Lip Preset / Body Preset / Eye Preset

Repeated Items: Nose Highlight / Glasses / Toenail Polish

Everyday 1: Hair / Eyeliner / Eyeshadow / Blush / Earrings / Sweater / Pants / Shoes

Everyday 2: Hair / Eyeliner / Blush / Lipstick / Earrings / Choker / Dress / Socks / Shoes

Formal: Hair / Eyeliner / Blush / Lipstick / Shoes / Dress

Active: Hair / Eyeliner / Blush / Lip Gloss / Earrings / Choker / Top / Pants / Sneakers

Sleep: Hair / Blush / Lipstick / Earrings / Pajamas / Socks / Slippers

Party: Hair / Eyeliner / Blush / Lipstick / Earrings / Necklace / Dress / Shoes

Swim: Hair / Hat / Eyeshadow / Blush / Lipstick / Necklace / Swimsuit / Wedges

Hot: Hair / Eyeliner / Eyeshadow / Blush / Earrings / Necklace / Dress / Nails / Sandals

Cold: Hair / Eyeliner / Eyeshadow / Blush / Lipstick / Earrings / Trench Coat / Rings / Tights / Boots

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slipper007 · 3 years

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The Monster in the Dark

Word Count: 1,311

Also on AO3 [Masterpost]

It was normal for kids to be afraid of the dark.

That was what all of Cas' parenting books had said at least. Dean had taken to reading them when Jack came back from his stint as God, wanting to be in a body his age. While it had certainly taken some getting used to (a four-year-old standing by the bed and staring, unspeaking and unmoving, waiting for him to wake up was, quite frankly, horrifying), everyone had gotten to a good place. They were comfortable with having a child around, and it brought out the best in everyone.

Sam had never wanted to be a father, but he slipped into the role of uncle easily, just as Eileen was an excellent aunt who spoiled Jack with a trip into town for ice cream every few weeks. As much as Dean had always feared becoming a father like John, as much as he wanted the distance of being an uncle like Sam rather than a parent, he did find himself easing more and more into being a dad.

And Cas...Cas seemed as if he was meant to be a father. Dean didn't know if there was something about being an angel that made him more able to raise a nephil, but he did it and he did it well. He knew how to balance Jack's moods, how to banish nightmares, and he was learning how to goof off and have fun, to see how the floor was lava and the appeal of a vinegar and baking soda volcano. He did it all, and even when some days were rougher, when his own issues wore him down and he climbed into bed exhausted, he could always manage a smile for Jack.

Dean had never seen Cas so content, and he had never seen someone parent so well.

It was Cas' shoes he had to fill a few months later, when Sam and Eileen were traveling abroad and something urgent in Heaven called Castiel away. He hadn't shared details with either of them, but he'd promised movie nights when he got back, to make brownies and read stories and make up for time away. Jack promised to be very brave and to be good for Dean until Cas got back.

As much as Castiel assured Dean he would be fine for the week or two he'd be gone, Dean hadn't been convinced. Maybe he'd been right to worry, because only a few days later, Jack woke him up to tell him about a monster in the dark, how much it scared him, how he wanted to be protected. He didn't say it, but Dean knew he wanted Cas, too.

Dean knew what monster he was talking about, remembered them from his own childhood after running through a mental list of vampires, ghouls, and ghosts.

Children believed in a monster that lived under their bed, one that would grab ankles and smile sinisterly through a cracked door. They would lurk in darkened corners and wait for eyes to close and then they would creep closer. Sam had feared them, too, while Dean had been more worried about the creatures his father hunted.

What Dean didn't understand was why. There was nothing in the dark that would hurt Jack, at least not here. The Bunker was safe, warded extensively. That knowledge meant nothing to Jack, so Dean looked for other ways to reassure him, to convince him he was safe.

John Winchester had given his children a 45. Most books suggested a nightlight to banish the monsters. As much as Dean's hunting instincts defended his father, he went out and bought the latter.

For a few nights, it worked well, but soon enough even light didn't banish the monster.

Dean leaned more into what he knew from hunting and tried a circle of salt around the bed, a few sigils throughout the room. While he knew nothing could possibly be in the Bunker with them, maybe this would help to convince Jack. After all, he knew a little about real monsters, whether from memories of his first three years of life or from walking in on a discussion about whether they should keep hunting with Jack so young now. While they were careful with what they told him, did the best they could to keep him from growing up in fear, Jack knew salt was protection just like sticking his head under his blankets was.

Again, it worked for three naptimes and two nights, but Dean still found himself spooked awake by Jack standing by the bed again in his glow in the dark pajamas.

This time, Dean just lifted the covers and let Jack climb in.

That was the sight Castiel came back to a few days later. Dean woke as Castiel slid into bed, Jack sandwiched between them.

“Morning, sunshine. Just get back?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, voice hushed so as not to wake Jack. With a little nod toward him, Cas asked, “How has he been? Have things gone alright while I was away?”

“Yeah, he’s been really good. Listening ears and everything.”

“That’s good,” Castiel sighed. “I was worried because I haven’t been gone for so long before, not since before he came back. And even though he’s more used to Eileen and Sam not being here all the time, having them and me gone at the same time isn’t something he’s dealt with before. And you know I love you and think you’re a great parent, but you’re just one person and he’s so used to having so many people around and with everything going on in Heaven I might need to go back again soon and—”

“Sweetheart, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry. Just been a lot going on.” As Dean was about to ask what had gone on in Heaven, Castiel’s expression shifted to one of confusion. “Why’s he in here?”

Dean looked down to Jack, peacefully sleeping. Part of him worried what Cas would think of him as he admitted, “He kept talking about a monster in the dark. I tried a light, like in your books, and a salt circle, but it didn’t help. This is all that’s worked.”

“I thought we had passed that,” Castiel said with a sigh, running a hand across his face. “He’s talked to me about that, too.”

“Oh.” Dean felt a semblance of relief knowing that this wasn’t a new problem. “Any ideas why?”

“I think he remembers the Empty,” Castiel confessed, looking tired and worried. “The same way he remembers things from hunting and little details from cases, his mother…”

They both fell silent for a beat.

“How have you comforted him? Other times he’s talked about this.”

“I tell him a story about a man who’s been caught by the monster. He’s tired and cold and scared, and he’s so far from home. But no matter how far he is, he knows someone will save him. There are people who love him, and they’ll save him no matter how scary the monster is. They’ll bring him home.” Castiel shifted, voice growing softer still. “He says it’s a good story, that he’ll be brave and bring me home if the monster comes for me.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t get much of a chance to.

“Cas?” Jack mumbled sleepily. He stirred for a moment before his eyes opened and crinkled in excitement. “Cas! You’re back! You’re back!”

The worry in Cas’ eyes disappeared and he took Jack into a tight hug. “Morning Jack. Do you want to help me make pancakes?”

“Yes!” Jack climbed out of bed with speed and agility that made both Cas and Dean laugh. “I’m gonna put chocolate chips in mine!”

Jack ran off towards the kitchen, and Castiel and Dean rose to follow him.

“Cas?” Dean said. “It’s good to have you home.”

///

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bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 10: Cross Over

General / Body Swap / Destiel (Set somewhere in Season 5) / 2,091 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

“What the fuck is happening?” Dean reached to clutch at his throat, surprised by the thinness of it, swallowing on grated vocal cords as he looked down and found a body that wasn’t his.

Long, delicate fingers pulled at the lapels of a tan trench coat, ran over the scratchy polyester of a blue tie turned backward. Oh god, Dean thought, reaching up to touch his face and nearly poked himself in the eye because it wasn’t where it normally was, his brow heavier. He licked his lips and was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was.

“Dean.”

Dean looked up at the sound of his own voice and was startled to see himself staring back at him but this wasn’t a mirror. He was where he’d been standing moments ago except it wasn’t him, couldn’t be because he was here. Plus he was holding himself funny, his shoulders back and straight, head held at a high angle. Even his legs were straight, their usual casual bow locked at the knee.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, reaching to loosen the tie at his throat but it was already loose, picked up his feet and put them back down again, wiggling his toes but they had plenty of room in his shoes. He turned his head trying to crack his neck and felt the tenseness in the muscles. He tried to relax them but received a muscle spasm for his trouble.

His body was shifting, moving its arms and looking at his hands, touching the scar on his right middle knuckle, wincing as he picked up his right knee and bent it experimentally. Dean mimicked the movement himself and marveled at how he could do it with no pain. Dean’s face was settled into a frown as he rubbed at his sore knee. Did he really pout his lips like that all the time?

“You hurt all over.” Dean’s voice said and this was too surreal. He couldn’t do this. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I guess I was just used to it,” Dean touched his throat again. “I don’t sound like you.”

Dean’s body rolled its eyes and Dean couldn’t get over it, how distinctly other he looked with Cas at the wheel. “I always thought if I spoke at a normal timbre it hurt your ears.”

Dean blinked and looked at Castiel (himself?), canting his head to the side. “Why would you think that?”

“When we first met you told me to lower the volume.”

Dean went to rub his face and it felt all wrong. He tried to roll his shoulders. “Man you need a massage. Why are you so goddamn tense?”

“We need to find, Sam,” Castiel said, looking left and immediately wincing. Dean forgot he’d had a crick in his neck from sleeping in the car. “Where is he?”

“How should I know?” Dean shrugged his shoulders and jumped, spinning around to look behind him. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” Castiel was feeling around in Dean’s pockets.

Dean thought he caught something out of the corner of his eyes but he couldn’t see very well like he was wearing sunglasses or something. “Nothing.” He rubbed his eyes.

Castiel pulled out a wad of money, coins falling to the concrete and he canted his head, looking down at them.

“Pick those up. That’s gas money!” Dean watched himself bend over at the waist and then stop, standing up again, wincing in pain.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice sounded panicked somewhere down the hall and Dean sighed, feeling himself unfurl a bit. Sam would know what to do.

His brother appeared in the doorway, a look of relief on his face. Dean felt himself smile, beginning to open his arms as Sam rushed forward but he didn’t come for him, he went to his body instead. And judging by Castiel’s expression on his face, he was not expecting to be spun around and bundled up in a crushing hug. Dean watched him lift a hand to awkwardly pat between Sam’s shoulder blades

“What’s wrong are you okay?” Sam grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and watched Castiel wince; it was the sore one that got wrenched by a wraith last week.

“Sammy,” Dean said in that strange not-Cas voice just as Sam flung himself back, drawing his gun.

“What have you done with my brother?” Sam barked, eyes flicking over then he did a double-take. “Did you just call me Sammy?”

“He calls you that often,” Castiel said and Sam’s brow creased further.

“Sam. It’s me.” Dean opened his arms and gave a little shrug.

“There’s been a bit of a mix-up,” Castiel said and Dean wanted to tell him to stop talking like that, he made Dean sound like a dork.

Sam peered at Castiel for a long moment before stowage away his gun. He looked over Dean. His eyebrows rose. “D-Dean?”

Dean let his arms fall. “Yep. We really fucked this one up good.”

“How… how…”

“Dunno-“

“The witch channeled her spell through me and it separated our consciousness from our vessels-”

“Hey buddy, that ain’t a vessel. That’s me.”

“-and they landed in the wrong ones.”

Sam was squinting at Castiel, marveling at how he was Dean but looked nothing like Dean somehow. It was really starting to freak him out. He looked over at Dean. “Can you fix it?”

“What’re you askin’ me for?” Dean said with creased brows and Sam shook his head, having clearly meant to address Castiel, and looked back at the man wearing Dean’s meat suit.

“Can you fix it, Cas?”

Dean snorted at the look of exasperated arrogance on his own face. He really was a pretty mother fucker. “Of course but not in this.” Castiel lifted the lapels of Dean’s jacket giving a huff of annoyance. He looked at Dean. “He can.”

“I can?” Dean’s eyebrows rose.

Sam gave an astonished laugh. “Dean… you’re… you’re an angel.”

“Oh Sammy, always with the compliments,” Dean teased to cover up the rush a fear that came with the realization.

“No, Dean I’m serious. You… you have… wow.” Sam shook his head, a look of wonder on his face.

“Yeah, yeah knock it off. So Cas how do I fix it.”

Castiel squinted at Dean. “You just… do.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s helpful. Thank you sensei.”

“I’m sorry Dean,” Castiel turned his palms outward. “It’s inherent to me.”

“Well, usually you do the two-finger boop to the forehead, right? Let’s try that.”

“Hold on,” Sam held out a warding hand, stepping in front of Castiel and Dean pursed his lips in annoyance. Didn’t Sam know he wasn’t protecting Dean by stopping him from getting to his meat suit? “You don’t know what you’re doing. You could make it worse.”

“Not sure how it could get much worse here, Sammy,” Dean held out his hands and Castiel frowned.

“No Sam’s right. You wield immense power in this realm. You could cause major damage to both of us.”

“Great,” Dean sighed reaching up to rub his face. “So what do we do? We can’t just stay like this.” Dean rolled his shoulders. “Being you is uncomfortable as hell. I feel like my shoes are too tight.” Dean picked up his feet and put them down again.

Castiel nodded. “It’s the vessel. It’s limiting.”

Dean blinked and realized that he did feel too big for his body, like he was in some kind of sensory deprivation chamber, all senses muted. He looked at Castiel and suddenly felt a rush of sympathy. It must be hell to feel like this all the time.

“Okay,” Sam held out his hands and Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s I-Have-A-Plan face. “We’re going to table this discussion until we get to Bobby’s. Then he’s gonna help us figure out how to get you two switched back. In the meantime,” Sam turned to look at Castiel. “You’re gonna think about how to teach my brother how to be an angel.”

Dean snorted. “Buddy, greater women have tried.”

Dean watched as Castiel canted his head to the side and it was weird to see that expression on his own face. “I don’t understand that reference but I’ll do my best.” He squinted then sucked in a deep breath. “Dean. Can you feel your- well my wings?”

Dean’s eyebrows rose, eyes going wide as he looked at his brother who was staring back eyes just as wide, his phone balanced in his hand, Bobby’s number pulled up but not dialed. Dean looked down at himself and touched his chest - jeez Cas was kind of ripped - and then reached over his shoulder, patting at his shoulder blades.

“No?”

Castiel stepped closer. “Think about flying. Think about stretching high over your head.”

Dean blinked and watched himself give an assuring nod. Dean found himself nodding back. He planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and closed his eyes, bowing his head. He thought back to that first night in the barn, terrified out of his mind and not able to believe his own eyes as two massive black shadows flared on a barn wall behind a small dorky guy in a trench coat. He imagined being that guy.

Thunder rumbled and the lights in the warehouse started to flicker as Dean’s thoughts turned inward, flexing his shoulders and suddenly there was something else, something other, attached like extra limbs but not just two, many. It was hard to wrap his head around having an extra set of arms and as he started to count he realized it wasn’t just an extra set but three extra sets.

He opened his eyes and the look on his brother’s face was pure awe. Castiel was squinting as if what he was looking at was too bright for him to keep his eyes open and Dean could feel power radiating through this frail husk that housed him. It was electric and Dean remembered how Jimmy Novak had compared it to being strapped to a comet but this, Dean was the comet.

Dean rolled his shoulders and felt the ripple effect through the many limbs, felt the delicious stretch of muscles unused for quite some time and Sam held up a hand to cover his eyes followed immediately by Castiel doing the same. Dean didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to know what they saw.

Bulbs were beginning to burst now, the rafters shaking and Castiel stepped forward, head tucking as he tried to look into Dean’s face but seemingly couldn’t. “Pull back!” He yelled over the roar of the wind. “Pull back! You’ll take the whole building down!”

Dean didn’t want to. For the first time in his life, Dean wanted to soar, longed for it so deeply but the look on his brother’s face tethered him to the ground. Terror, real terror, the kind of look he had as a kid the first time Dad wanted Dean to go on a solo hunt and leave Sam behind. It was the fear Sam would never see him again.

Dean sucked in a deep breath and shut it down, all of it, wrapping his arms around himself and marveled at how it didn’t really hurt at all when his knees hit the concrete. This form, it was just a vessel and whatever bruises were starting to form were already starting to heal. Nothing on this plane could hurt him. Not really.

Sam rushed forward, crouching down and Dean watched as Castiel struggled to do the same. Goddamn, that old trick knee. Dean reached out, fingers brushing Castiel’s jaw feeling the day's worth of stubble there before cupping his cheek. It was instinctual, this desire to touch him, the longing to be near this human thing that he’d rebuilt. He could feel every ache, every twinge of pain and before he could even realize what he was doing he felt something flow out of him, soothing like cool water. Castiel’s eyes widened as every ache and pain dissolved, even the small knick on his chin where Dean had cut himself shaving that morning.

“What happened?” Sam’s voice felt far away, one of his hands on each of their shoulders as Dean stared into his own eyes but saw Castiel clearly, his own soul clearly. Something he couldn’t name fluttered in his chest.

“Nothin’,” Dean said, shying away from his brother’s touch, dropping his eyes.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was low, a register Dean himself had never used.

“Let’s go see Bobby.” Dean swallowed hard, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “He’ll know what to do.”

#suptober21 #destiel #deancas #supernatural fanfic #writing by me #fanfic: supernatural

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devastatingly-handsome-friend · 2 years

Text

five times where dean gets spoiled with love and affection like he deserves, and cas revels in having what he's always wanted

is this a fall out boy song

no plus one for this! just five :)

also rowena is back on earth because i say so

wc about 5000!!

au where cas' handprint scar never disappeared from dean's shoulder btw. this is like uh. the most self indulgent thing i could've possibly written, basically all the fics i wanted to exist so i was the change i want to see in the world.

i made myself feel so much better about the dirty way we were done with the last three eps by writing this! i had so much fun with it, and i hope you enjoy it! also if you happen to like my writing style, feel free to check my writeblr, @writeblrfantasy, for all my original content!

dean is standing at the stove frying bacon when he hears the familiar and all too welcome sound of cas' dress shoes on the concrete bunker floor.

for all dean has hinted at getting him to ditch the tax accountant outfit and switch in some warm slippers, maybe some of dean's clothes--and goddamn if that image doesn't get dean a little hot under the collar--cas favors his trench coat. there's no need for him to change it, and it's simply been too long with it for a change to make sense.

they've both gotten attached to it. if anything gives dean comfort other than baby, a gun on his person, and sam safe in his sights, it's that tie, the same color as those eyes, and the sound of cas' deep gravelly voice. cas got folded into the category of home long ago, and he's only burrowed himself deeper over the years.

dean smiles. he's been pavlov'd to smile at the sound of cas moving around now, coming to him, because cas always means good things. no conflicts, no fights, no secrets. when they hunt now, cas comes with them, works with them, makes the whole process ten times faster thanks to jack restoring his wings and grace to full power.

"mornin', sweetheart," dean murmurs, still foggy from sleep and waiting for the coffee to do its work. it was hard as ever to extricate himself from the warm clutch of cas' arms this morning. normally cas would follow him to the kitchen and watch while dean cooked, maybe wrap his arms around deans waist to maintain some of that warmth, but today cas wanted to go outside and say hello to the bees.

they went their ways silently, cas acting for all intents like someone who actually struggles through the slowness of waking up. it's far too domestic, far too perfect, far too unreal. dean has trouble believing this is his life. after everything, when he still wakes up with a gasp and a cry of fear on his lips, staring into a fleeting echo of chuck's smiling face, fingers raised to snap, it takes only cas' soothing touch to calm him down again.

sometimes the nightmares are of a world where cas never came back, where dean never got up from the floor with cas' inky handprint on his shoulder and his head in his hands, hearing i love you playing in his head on a tortuous repeat.

but they get through that too, because cas is always right there with his angel warmth and soft words and reassurances. he encourages dean to cry in the dark, press his forehead to cas' shoulder while cas' fingers run through his hair, saying i'm here and i'm not going anywhere, no more deals, and i love you this time too.

"good morning, dean." they didn't say it when they woke up, dean just grunted and grumbled his way into his dead guy robe, stumbling in the dark and blinding himself with the light. he remembers cas comparing him to a bear once.

when dean turns his head to smile at his angel, he finds cas right there, staring at him intently. dean doesn't jump like he used to because they're in each other's space now--hell, who he is kidding, they've always been, no matter what he said about personal space all those years ago. he was once afraid of what cas did to him, everything he made him feel, so he covered it with snappy remarks and demands.

cas tilts his chin up with a finger and kisses him, sending familiar butterflies waltzing through him, prompting a dopey little smile dean tries and fails to hide as he turns the bacon over. his lips are tingling. is that cas' grace, or just cas?

"where's my good morning kiss, cas?"

dean whips his head around at the sound of sam's voice, the sight of him standing in the doorway with his hair windblown. he must've come in while dean was distracted by the kiss. panic spikes through dean, alarms of, fuck, shit, sam knows, fuck, that quickly turn to confusion and relief once he sees the grin on sam's face.

"I--" nothing comes out when he tries to speak. he doesn't want to disrespect cas by saying it's not what it looks like. he wants to gain the confidence to say it's exactly what it looks like, say what he's been meaning to say to sam since this started, since their decade plus of pining ended. again, the words don't come easy to him.

it's not like they've been hiding it. they probably haven't been hiding it well, what with the constant touches and closeness and the way cas slips into his room every night. but if sam has noticed--he probably has, smart kid that he is--he hasn't said anything. yet. but now, sweaty from his ungodly morning run, he apparently couldn't help himself.

cas saves dean the job of answering, thank jack. "dean and i have, as he put it, gotten our heads out of our asses." he does the air quotes, of course. "jack bringing me out of the empty--again--kickstarted this at long last." they never told sam what cas said with tears in both their eyes seconds before the empty came to swallow him up. dean isn't in the mood to tell that story right now. not exactly breakfast table material. he’ll get around to it sometime. sammy deserves to know.

"we apologize for not telling you sooner, sam." cas looks at dean to check if the we is okay, stars in his eyes, and dean smothers another giddy smile. he needs to get a hold of himself. he tells himself it's because the coffee hasn't kicked in.

sam's still grinning. "it's fine. i'm joking, by the way, jerk." he walks by, and if he were a normal person, he would swipe a piece of bacon. instead he starts chugging a green smoothie he kept cold overnight in the fridge. freak. "about damn time," he says when he comes up for air, smiling at the two of them. he looks like a kid on christmas.

dean knows it couldn't have been easy watching the two of them struggle to wade through their seemingly endless list of problems keeping them apart for 12 years, one of the chief ones being dean's own thickheaded-ness. sam looks as happy for them as humanly possible. dean can imagine him running straight to factime eileen to tell her.

"yeah, yeah," dean mutters, but he's smiling, and he ruffles sam's hair as he scuttles by.

dean knows, as a 42 year old man, he should not be as giddy about sitting on a too small diner booth beside cas as he is, but frankly he doesn't give a fuck what brings him joy. he's saved the world one too many times to care about the constructs and expectations in it. took him a while to get there, but like most things, cas made the process easier.

so he is perfectly allowed to hide his smile in the rim of his coffee mug and enjoy every bit of this: the way cas' arm curves around dean's waist through their collective six or so layers of clothes, the way they're pressed side to side, arm to arm, and even through said six layers of clothes dean can feel his angel warmth. it's almost as good as when they're spooning at night, when dean is wrapped in cas' arms knowing there's nowhere safer for him in any realm. the booth is small enough that dean is practically sitting on cas’ lap.

dean thinks of lily sunder, ishim in the diner, the way he found room for heart fluttering affectation when he got to sit like this with cas in the midst of their spat. he took the little victories, always has. but this--there's nothing better than this, being able to feel cas' smiling eyes on him when he glances away from sam. dean reaches for his free right hand under the table just to hold it, just for the hell of it.

sam is babbling on about their current hunt in the booth across them, wondering if it was a werewolf or a vampire based on how destroyed the throats were. dean is a little groggy from getting up early and driving all day, a piece of pie devoured in front of him, and cas' warmth and hands remind him of peaceful, restful sleep like he's never had before.

he was never fully part of this conversation anyway, but sam's words slowly start to fade back in. coroner reports, his own theories, proposed plans for tomorrow.

"dean?" sam snaps his fingers in front of dean's face. "you listening? monsters?"

"uh, yeah. mauled throats. nasty stuff. my money's on a vamp." cas' hand travels up his back where sam can't see, and dean can't stop his smile.

sam gives them both a weird look but goes back to his ceaseless talking, his own way of keeping himself awake.

they'll figure it out tomorrow. all dean has to do right now is let cas pull him closer, lean his head onto cas' shoulder and close his eyes for a moment.

they've saved the world he doesn't want to think about how many times. dean can fall asleep on his angel's shoulder in a diner booth if he pleases.

dean recalls, a long time ago, eating a burger while cas watched while they were in town searching for claire. the mark of cain is now gone from dean's arm, the worries with it, claire saved to both of their ready contacts. but dean is now eating a burger in a different diner with the same shitty checkered tablecloth, cas staring at him with the same adoring expression he always did.

dean doesn't know how he didn't see the evidence on cas' face years ago--probably just chose to ignore it, so deep had he shoved down his own feelings.

dean is chowing down on his second burger, the one he ordered for cas, partly just to spite him when he said dean couldn't possibly finish both.

the waitress comes, a pretty girl in a skirt that dean would’ve tried to flirt with a decade ago. she’s been coming onto their table anyway, and dean has politely ignored that this whole time. "can i get y'all anything else?" she smiles, flutters her lashes. "my number, maybe?"

dean opens his mouth for an automatic response, well trained into him that's had to adjust recently from of course, darling to not interested, sorry honey, to sorry, I’m taken, which shouldn‘t feel so oddly good to say. then he realizes it's not him she's looking at. it's cas.

"sorry, honey." dean smiles at her, lacing his fingers through cas' and pointedly resting them on the table. this would be a better point proven if they had wedding bands, a thought that threatens to strike him dumb. "this one's taken."

"oh, sorry. how long have y'all been together?" the waitress asks with the same sugary sweet smile. an invisible pressure lifts from dean's chest.

cas and dean lock eyes. they've never discussed what to say if someone asks them this--how would that have come up? and dean doesn't know which date to choose. so many milestones, so many unbelievable situations to boil down for normal ears.

cas comes to his rescue. "twelve long years," he says, squeezing dean's hand and raising it to his lips. the waitress coos at them.

"oh, my, i've never had a relationship last longer than a year," she laughs. "got any tips for me?"

"it hasn't been easy," cas says, fond in his deep tone. he's looking not at the waitress, but at dean, smiling a little. "but love will persist through heaven and hellfire, and the forests of purgatory. even death."

dean nearly chokes. it's a normal enough metaphor, at least the first part, that the waitress doesn't look too weirded out. she raises an eyebrow, thanks them, and sets down the bill.

dean strokes his thumb idly over the back of cas' hand, wondering about those wedding bands.

"cas, i just love you."

cas smiles, rubbing a firm hand over dean's back over his shirts. they're sitting close enough to touch on the bunker kitchen bench. "yes, dean. i know. i love you too."

sam is clearly struggling not to laugh across the bench. he's got rowena on the phone against his ear, feeding him information about how to break this curse. his finger is plugging his other ear, for all the good that's probably doing him. if dean had half his normal faculties right now, he'd be hot faced and mortified, and it's a near thing he isn't even with the curse suppressing his filters and shame.

"no, but cas, you don't understand." dean couldn't stop talking if he tried. this damn truth curse. he needs to suggest one of them tape his mouth shut, though he doubts that will stop the talking itself. "i spent so long pretending i didn't, or hoping it would go away because it was the worst time and i thought you deserved so much better, still kind of do, but now i can say it and it's like i can't say it enough, but it's still so hard, and you say it all the time so easily--"

cas kisses him to silence him, thank jack, probably the only thing that will actually work. it's long and sweet, and when cas pulls back dean momentarily loses his capacity for words.

"i will say this as many times as you need to hear it," cas says. "i understand it is difficult for you to express your affection with words, and the other ways in which you do are no less real or meaningful to me. you forget i can see your soul, dean. you forget that i remade you from nothing, atom by atom. i know you.

"i appreciate the very human gesture of speaking your love, but i never need to hear it directly to know your feelings. i need only glance at you, the true you. i only wish you could do the same with me, and i could banish any doubts you might have as well."

dean opens his mouth, but again nothing comes out. he remembers then that sam is there, and his embarrassment is almost powerful enough to break through the barrier the curse has placed upon it.

sam grimaces like he wants to leave just as much as dean wants him to, and hangs up the phone. he thanks rowena with a promise to see her soon to continue his training. "okay, so she says it's simple. we don't need the black grimoire, the book of the damned, nothing, just a few simple ingredients and a crystal. she gave me the words to say to cast it. simple, for once."

"don't jinx it," dean mutters, biting his tongue on a useless tangent about how shit always goes wrong for them that's clawing its way up his throat. it is not enough for a curse to make him want to spew truth, but to spew it a mile a minute?

"i'll get the stuff," sam says, rising to his feet. "cas, you watch him."

dean buries his head in cas' shoulder in an attempt to keep himself quiet, listening to sam's footsteps fade out. it doesn’t last long. "so...you can see my soul, huh?"

"yes. when i have had grace, i always have been able to, to some extent. jack's restoration of my full powers has allowed me to see it as i did when we met, but when my grace was depleted or i was living off of stolen supplies, i could only see it sometimes, and muted. I admit one of the most jarring parts about being human was not being able to see it. but now--"

he smooths dean's hair back from his forehead, touching him for the sake of touching him. this curse causes no physical pain, not even much emotional distress, but dean appreciates the free touches anyway.

"i must set aside time to show you and explain to you what i see in you, dean," cas says. "i must better articulate what made me fall for you, in every sense of the word."

the reminder said aloud sends warmth through dean's chest. "we got all the time in the world, now, angel." cas has said before he doesn't really understand that pet name, since it's his species, and dean hasn't found the words to express what it means to him, what cas means to him. not with the talent that cas has. angels are watching over you. he swallows, and the truth spell does the rest.

"i want everything you can give me, show me, whatever. show me tonight, if you can, after we get this curse gone. i think you're so cool, cas, you and all your cool angel tricks. i don't even know half the shit you can do, do i, even after so long? powerful guy. god, I’m so lucky.”

the smile that lights up cas' face is perhaps the best part of this curse so far.

sam returns with a metal bowl filled with spell ingredients a moment later. dean's talking again before he can think.

"thank you, sam. i love you, you know, and i appreciate all this. and i know i give you shit, i gave rowena shit for so long, but this samwitch thing? i think it's cool. useful as fuck, too. but i'm glad you found a--healthier way to channel those powers of yours."

sam grimaces again, the lines in his face drawing up, looking caught off guard but not disgusted or totally weirded out. weirded out that dean is admitting this aloud, maybe, but a smile peeks through.

"you're gonna lock yourself away when this curse is gone, i can just tell. try not to. here's a little truth of my own: you don't have to feel embarrassed over admitting you care for your family. no one's going to judge you. we're both here for you." he glances at cas, probably wondering if he's said those very words to dean before. he has, but maybe dean needed to hear it from sam too. "love is not a bad weakness to have."

sam sets down the bowl of ingredients and the crystal, laying out the sheet of paper with the words. he speaks them slowly, his eyes flashing violet, and dean feels a tightening in his stomach. his inhibitions being put back on, his filters, his ability to lie. most of all, his red cheeked, burning hot shame. but he doesn't run away. cas and sam are smiling at him as they make dean say he is the queen of england to prove it's fixed, and dean can't really meet their eyes, but the warm light in his chest is still there.

when sam leaves to put the materials back, no doubt sensing he and cas need another moment alone, dean says, "cas, i shouldn't need a truth spell to tell you that i love you." saying it is still like tensing muscles, gritting teeth only to realize the pain wasn't as bad as he expected, a leap he didn't think he'd survive. everything cas just said about seeing his soul and knowing his love, though, that helps.

"i already told you, you don't need to," cas says patiently. "come with me?"

"of course."

with a quick text to sam that they might not come out of dean's room for a while, cas sits him down on the edge of his bed to explain to dean his own soul.

dean is tied to a chair.

demons, of course. he and sam got separated in the fight, the demons dragged him off to this stuffy old warehouse, tying him to a chair with his hands cuffed on top of that. he couldn't fight ten, twenty on one, and they've clearly done their homework on capturing a winchester.

he's waiting for the leader of the group to make their villain speech, biding his time while he tries to get out of his bonds. a little pit of anxiety rests in his stomach, as always, but it's shrunk much over the years as the threats against him grew and grew and made the regular hunts look like paradise.

the doors to the warehouse burst open with a bang. dean whirls his head around in his chair, dressing the arrival of yet more demons, and his heart clears when he sees cas in the doorway instead. cas storms through the warehouse with all the night of heaven, his power crackling through the air even.

dean follows him with his eyes, lips parted in shock as words evade him. cas was fighting the demons as well, trailing behind him and sam when they got separated.

dean’s hands ache and sting where the rope and cuffs have rubbed them raw, and his head throbs where the demons bashed it into the wall in the fight, but all he can focus on is the image of his angel here to save him.

cas' eyes glow blue, the shadow of his magnificent, now full and intact wings flashing against the wall. except--no, dean realizes quickly this isn't just a mere shadow, not this time. the feathers shimmer and move, coal black. cas' voice booms throughout the warehouse. "do not harm my righteous man, or there will be consequences."

dean gets full body chills, and that's before cas starts smiting.

he's as graceful and powerful in battle as he's always been, and dean can hardly keep up, hardly see at the rate cas smites demons and cries fall on his ears. one, sometimes two flares of light come at once to light up the warehouse.

dean never had to call out, cas, behind you, since cas always seems to know where the demons are attempting to gang up on him. he catches wrists behind his back, uses his wings to knock them out of the way and throw them off their feet. its a display of power unlike any dean has ever seen.

finally, the last suited meat suit falls. cas’ eyes stop glowing and dean's ears stop ringing, the light fades but the wings stay, and cas drops his fighting posture all at once. he races over to dean, who is more than fine and says so when cas asks, kneeling to uncuff him.

"damn, cas," dean laughs, a little breathless when he hasn't even moved this whole time. "that was impressive. kind of hot."

"i should've gotten here sooner," cas says, riddled with worry.

"don't worry about it. if you wanna make it up to me, you could, uh." he indicates pressing two fingers to his aching forehead. "heal me up, baby."

cas presses a kiss to his temple instead, and dean furrows a brow until he feels warm healing spread through him, soothing away the hurt in his hands and head, the aches in his muscles he didn't even know he had. the itchiness of dried blood disappears too.

he beams at cas. "you can do that? true love's healing kiss?"

cas smiles, something small and private, and dean is momentarily struck breathless that he's the reason. this mighty creature just smote twenty demons without breaking a sweat, without even losing any breath, and now he’s smiling at dean like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

"i think you forget the extent of my abilities, dean. i could've simply used my grace as a central beam to smite those demons if i pleased, i needn't have touched any of them, but i didn't want to accidentally blind you.

"jack played a large hand in restoring my powers, as i have told you before. i now have the abilities equivalent to what i had when we met. the fall, metatron's spell, all the times my grace has been stolen or tampered with or supplemented--it is all a thing of the past. this errand was trivial."

that, too, gets dean a little hot under the collar. the fact that this angel, this powerful wavelength of intent as tall as the chrysler building uses his wings and his smiting to protect dean, to kill demons on his behalf--it's a bit of a headrush. he remembers the all powerful cas he first met, how different the man--angel--before him is. no less hot, though.

he doesn't say that first part aloud, because he'll get a long and far too genuine speech from cas about how nothing fulfills him in life more than using his powers for dean, and now is not the time nor the place. he chooses a slightly safer, dean typical response instead. he slides his arms around cas' shoulders. "were you showin' off for me?"

cas doesn't reply, but the way his eyes darken and his feathers flutter are answer enough. dean has seen his wings before since they've been together, but never in battle. the way they shake now, puff up and rise a little, he's certain is the height of showing off.

"i don't know what you're talking about," cas says in the low, monotone voice dean mistook for emotionless for so many years. "i would never execute any mission with any flair. i would do only what was strictly necessary."

dean laughs, "big fuckin' liar," into cas' mouth to hide his pleased smile at the thought of cas showing off for him. that he even feels the need to. dean is his for life and beyond, they've established this, but dean thinks he understands. it's the same thing that happened with the waitress--the need, the pride to show the world that cas is his angel, dean is his man, and it may have taken them twelve years but they got there.

there have been so many and so much in between them, but at the end of the day cas is still coming home with them, sitting shotgun in the impala while sam sleeps in the back, holding dean's hand on the seat. they drive because dean likes the ritual of it, loves his baby, despite cas being able to fly them anywhere again in the blink of an eye.

"i am not a big fucking liar," cas rasps, voice deep as gravel, "because the sooner i get the monsters out of the way, the sooner i can get to you. at your side, where i belong."

before dean can think of a suitable response to that, sam's heavy sigh and voice interrupt the glow of the moment, breaking dean and cas' warm bubble. "ugh, ew. not something i ever wanted to see, guys." he's standing in the open doorway of the warehouse, gun drawn, a little bloodied up.

"you're just jealous, sammy," dean says with a grin, not bothering to put much distance between him and cas. he taps his fingers idly on cas' shoulder, keeping him close. a decade ago, he would've jumped away and pretended like nothing had ever happened, but now, as he told sam a while ago, maybe he's just too damn old to care. especially since it's just sam.

sam grimaces, lowering his gun and darting back toward the door. his eyes catch on the bodies littered throughout the warehouse and their still smoldering eyes, with a raised eyebrow. “whatever, i’m going to go bring the car around,” he says, probably wanting to give them a bit of privacy.

"uh huh," dean says, already turning back to cas. but he still feels the creeping crawl of sam's eyes on his neck, and he turns, annoyed.

sam is smiling. "i thought it would be better once you got your shit together, but i was wrong. it's worse." he shakes his head, holds out his hand. "dean. keys."

"right." dean tosses him the keys, and sam scurries away, looking grateful to go. cas will heal him up later.

as dean smiles at cas again, accepts his kiss, buries his fingers in cas' wings, murmurs his love into cas' lips, he thinks of how much better it is now. sam can suck it, though dean knows he is secretly pleased with how much worse it's gotten. sam just wants both of them to be happy, and damn if dean isn't the happiest he's ever been in his life, with his angel at his side.

#supernatural fanfic #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #destiel #spn #supernatural #spn fic #fanfic #destiel fluff #deancas #castiel #lila's spn fic

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dcforts · 3 years

Text

[day 2: childhood memories + day 3: motel rooms]

One minute Dean is soaping up in the shower - under what could be described more as a lukewarm leak than an actual shower spray - and the next the whole thing dies on him.

Dean sighs heavily, steps out on the cold bathroom tiles and towels off the soap as best as he can. He is sticky and uncomfortable when he gets into his clothes but it’s not worth bringing up the issue at the front because they are leaving the motel anyway.

Sam says, “Maybe they’ll let you take a shower in another room,” but Dean doesn’t want to. This is just the cherry on top of a godawful day and he wants to get out of there now and don’t ever come back. He is sick of those carpeted floors, those disgusting smells, the stained curtains, the dirty ashtrays.

He is well aware that if they didn’t find the bunker they would have spent the rest of their lives in dumps like this, so it’s not like he can look down on anything with a roof on. Still, Dean finds more and more intolerable the places he grew up in.

The ones his dad would leave them in when he was barely ten years old and he was too afraid to fall asleep because of the scary noises coming from the walls and the scary lights coming from behind the curtains. He would think that if he closed his eyes then someone could come in and take Sammy and he wouldn’t relax until he heard the rumble of the Impala in the parking lot. He would finally calm down and be lulled into sleep only by the creaking of the floorboards under his father’s boots, his heavy breathing, the tv turning on, the hiss of a beer being opened.

He is not complaining, but he knows now, that it was fucked up – how they lived. He’s got fond memories too, he is not complaining. He’s just tired. Maybe he’s getting older, that’s all. Maybe he’s becoming one of those old grumpy dudes that can make a fuss about anything.

“I’ll take care of check out,” Sam says and hands him his bag. “See you outside.”

Generally, he is not bothered by any of those things. Too preoccupied with whatever they are dealing with, he moves on autopilot. But today he woke up with a sadness that he doesn’t know where it came from but it grew and it grew – during the long hours of a stake out, and each time he was thrown against a wall by the monster they were fighting, and finally, half an hour ago, when the shower head of his filthy motel room decided to die on him while he was still all soaped up.

So when Sam leaves the room Dean takes a moment for himself. He sits down on the nearest unmade bed and drops his head in his hands.

There are voices coming from the rooms nearby, not really muffled by the thin walls of the place. A kid crying, a man yelling at his phone, a television blaring commercials.

One time when he was nine, Dean had been having a hard time because little Sammy wouldn’t stop crying. It took him a long time to calm him down and even longer to make him fall asleep. Then from next door came the sounds of a couple fighting and Sam started to stir in his sleep. His father had told him to always be brave, so Dean had gone knocking on their door, his heart in his throat. “Could you keep it down? My little brother is sleeping,” he’d said to the man who’d opened the door. The man had spit on him and slammed the door.

He had washed the spit out of his face together with his tears, wishing for his father to come back and take them out of there.

He knows he is not that kid anymore. He went through so much worse; he went through literal Hell. He sighs and wipes a hand over his mouth, telling himself to get it together. He didn’t get enough sleep, that’s all.

Someone pushes open the door that Sam has left ajar. Cas takes in the view of Dean sitting on the bed with the bags at his feet, surveys the empty room and asks: “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Dean looks up at Cas and unsurprisingly he is wearing a frown. Also unsurprisingly, he picks up Dean’s bad mood. He walks into the room and asks: “What is it?”

Dean looks down at his shoes and weights what chances he has to get away with a ‘Nothing’. He still doesn’t feel like moving though, so it would be a little weird to say that and then keep sitting there.

“Just a bad day,” he says in the end.

Cas is quiet for a moment, Dean can hear him shift his weight from one foot to the other, can hear the rustling of his trench coat as he moves his arms.

“Tell me about it,” he says and his shoes come into Dean’s view as he approches him and then crouches in front of him trying to catch his gaze. His eyes are soft and questioning. Dean doesn’t like making him worry.

“I’m just being a whiny baby,” he says, trying to playing it down, attempting a smile. “My back hurts, that vamp kicked my ass, I could not even take a freaking shower and now I gotta drive for hundreds of miles.”

“What else?” Cas says and he puts his hands on the mattress to keep his balance. His chest bumps against Dean’s knees.

He shakes his head: “Remembering some stuff from when I was a kid. I dunno, maybe I haven’t slept all that well. My pillow was bumpy.”

A corner of Cas’ mouths lifts.

“I told you, it’s nothing. I just needed a minute.”

“Can I do something to help?” he asks and a warm feeling expands in Dean’s chest. He shakes his head.

Cas studies his face for a moment longer, then Dean feels his hand on the back of his neck gently pulling his head forward until he ends up in a sort of a hug that works and doesn’t work, but still brings Dean’s face pressed against his shoulder and into the fabric of his trenchcoat, so that all he can smell now it’s the not rancid tobacco, not the cheap detergent used for the bedsheets, not the old mouldy wallpaper.

Just Cas, the soap Sam packed for the trip, the Impala.

He smells like home. And that anchors him to the present. A present made of eggs and bacon every morning, of record players blasting his favourite songs, of soft clean clothes and the feeling of safety; a present made of people that call him just to know he’s alright, that would drive from another state just to see him, that will hold him for as long as he needs it.

People that love him and that he loves.

So Dean lets Cas hold him and not hold him for a little while longer - or for a long time, Dean is not sure anymore - before he feels ready to slap his back and say: “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

He stands up and takes one bag, Cas takes the other.

He still looks at him like he’s not convinced that Dean is fine, so he says, “I’m fine,” but then feels embarrassed and stammers a bit when he adds, “T-thanks, Cas.”

Cas nods briefly. “Anytime.”

joining @bend-me-shape-me in doing this!

#SPNAdventCalendar2020 #deancas #destiel #deancas ficlet #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #angst #1.2k #cw bad childhood #not happy or christmassy but i needed it #my writing

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huggybearsunshine · 3 years

Text

The “Right” Dean part 3

Post-series but not 15x20 compliant.

“What happened??” Dean asked frantically as Jack appeared behind him, “He was fine and then-”

Jack’s hand touched his shoulder, silencing the hunter’s words as green eyes darted up toward the nephilim’s own, “He passed out… he’s been completely depleted and needs rest but seems alright otherwise…”

Dean shuddered as he sank back down to his knee, “I’m getting too old for this shit…”

“Would you like me to help you move him somewhere more comfortable?” Jack offered kindly.

“He can sleep in my room for now…” Dean replied, eyes stuck to the Angel in front of him, “He should be somewhere familiar in case he wakes up…”

Jack nodded in agreement before they lifted Cas and made their way toward the room.

“He can eat it when he wakes up,” Dean answered Sam’s unasked question as they passed him in the hallway.

He had been on his way back to the library, a sandwich and bowl of soup in hand which Dean grabbed from him as they passed before taking Cas’ weight from Jack’s hold. Jack allowed it, and Dean was able to walk Cas in the rest of the way by himself.

“Dean?” a half awake voice spoke next to his ear before he lowered him to sit on the bed.

“Yeah, Cas, I’m here…” Dean brushed a knuckle over his cheek before pulling the celestial’s arms from the stained trench coat, “Let’s get you comfortable…”

Cas groaned but obliged, and soon he was sans shoes and suit jacket too. Dean was wedging a pillow under his head as he lowered him the rest of the way onto the bed when Cas’ eyes opened. His breath caught as he took in the hunter’s proximity to him and Dean couldn’t help but smirk.

“You’re exhausted… sleep,” he said softly as a slight blush spread across his freckled face, “We’ve got plenty of time for all that later…”

“You’re leaving?” the Angel’s face suddenly turned in distress.

“Don’t have to…” Dean replied softly.

“Don’t…”

“I put your food there…” Dean motioned toward the bedside table, suddenly unsure of what to say, “In case you wanted…”

“Yes…” Cas breathed out, reaching to grab the sandwich with as little movement as possible.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sight of Cas eating with his eyes closed.

“Is the light bothering you?” Dean suddenly realized, making a move toward the switch, “I could turn it off-”

“No!” Cas sat up, a wild look in his eyes.

Dean froze, “I-I’m sorry…”

Cas stared at the half of a sandwich he still held for a moment, collecting himself before he spoke again.

“It was always dark…”

Dean crossed to the lamp and flicked it on before returning again to the light switch.

“Think this would be okay?” he asked simply, and upon seeing a nod of agreement, flipped it off. The soft glow of the room hid the worried lines and the dark circles, and Dean could see his Cas there for the first time. He had crossed the room before he even realized and knelt in front of the other man, knees creaking as they hit the concrete floor.

“I missed you,” Dean finally lets the words slip out, “I couldn’t deal… Not this time… Not really any time… But this…”

He took Cas’ free hand in his and placed it on his own cheek, needing to feel the solidity and realness of the man in front of him.

There was an almost reverent look in Cas’ eyes as he allowed his thumb to brush Dean’s cheek softly.

“I was so afraid that we were finally here after I made that deal…” Cas spoke softly, as if afraid to break up this moment they were having, “There were so many signs- unless I misread- but I don’t think now that I did…” Dean shook his head as a confirmation and Cas continued, “Everything was painted with fear… I knew anything good that could happen between us would be the end…”

“You seemed guarded…”

“I was…” Cas agreed.

“That’s usually my job.”

“It is,” the Angel laughed.

“I was working my way up to it… So, you weren’t wrong…” Dean responded honestly, now close enough that his hips were nestled between the other man’s knees.

“I couldn’t let it happen that way…” Cas’ eyes dropped, “Couldn’t do that to you… but to save Jack…”

“You’d do anything…”

“I would…” Cas confirmed, “And in that way I don’t regret what I did…”

“Then what made you fight your way back?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“I felt Jack rise to power… even in there… and I knew he was safe enough that the empty couldn’t get him,” Cas’ eyes filled with tears, “But I couldn’t cope… The empty tortured me with images of your death over and over again until I didn’t know what was real anymore, and I couldn’t let those things happen to you… I had to find you and keep you safe, but something went wrong…”

“Hence the time jumping…”

“Yes, it was an unforeseen complication,” Cas smiled sweetly, and the two seemed to just bask in the quiet moment for a time before Dean’s aching knees forced him to move.

“You really should rest…” the hunter remarked as he moved to sit next to Cas on the bed and with a smirk, he added, “I’ll watch over you.”

————————

Tag list: @imthedoctorlove @nguyenxtrang @skylerkernaghan @madhureblog

#castiel #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #castiel x dean #deancas #destiel #deancas fanfic #deancas fic #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #time jumping #the right Dean #part 3 #sam winchester #jack kline #jack winchester #post series

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Text

December 19, 2021

Hello! I’m done with this chapter just in time! It took me all day cause I get distracted easily lol Enjoying my countdown for Christmas with this domestic family? Then catch up with the masterpost here!

Summary: Welcome to the flashback episode where we get the story of how Dean and Cas got together. I think it’s dumb but cute :)

Word Count: 2358 (yeah...this one could have been longer but I had to chill)

Cas was humming in the kitchen, his playlist playing loudly through the house, while he prepared Dean’s lunch. He stirred the soup once before grabbing a spoon to taste for seasoning. Adding a bit more white pepper before dropping the chopped kale into the hot pot of chicken rice soup.

“Dad?” Jack appeared on Cas’s left. “What time is Dad coming home?”

Claire appeared on Cas’s right. “And what the hell are you listening to?”

He turned towards Jack first, who was mesmerized by the stirring of the soup. “You’re Dad will get off from work at 5, so by 5:30 he should be home.” Then he turned his attention to Claire who was snacking on the homemade croutons. Her eyes met his and she smiled, small and crooked with warm eyes. “And I’m listening to a playlist Sam made me. I believe this is Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Oh, scratch that it’s playing Heaven Help Me by Lizzo now.”

Her eyes widened before she threw her head back to laugh. A hand landing hard on his shoulder while he smiled fondly at his daughter. Jack was already humming the song while reaching for some croutons for himself. Making a face when he bits down on a real burnt one.

“Does Dean listen to this teenage girl stuff?” Claire asked, leaning against the counter.

Jack copied her movement but it didn’t look as casual as Claire made it seem. Cas moved around them to get a tall thermos to fill with enough soup for a second or third bowl. Dean’s lunchbox was already filled with everything he needed to keep himself warm and full until he came home for dinner. He even added a loaf of apple cinnamon bread to his lunch so Dean could share with his coworkers. A smaller thermos was filled with coffee and he was bringing an extra reusable water bottle, covered in stickers Jack picked out, just in case.

“Sometimes. If he’s in a good enough mood.” Cas admits as he finishes filling up the thermos and zipping up the lunch box.

“You know, you never really told me when you two finally got together.” Claire pushed herself off the counter to grab his arm, looking at him with bright rounding eyes that matched his eye color. “I think I deserve to hear how my Dads got together!”

“It’s a great story.” Jack agrees as he decided that copying his sister wasn’t fun anymore but he was gonna rummage through the fridge. “Dad Dean doesn’t really like talking about it much.”

“What? Why?” Claire furrowed her eyebrows together while looking up at Cas for answers. “You two are so happy-old-married-couple that it’s sickeningly cute. Was he embarrassed or something?”

“Thank you?” Cas raises an eyebrow back at her as he swings the lunchbox into his shoulder. “And he was embarrassed but I think it’s a story we should tell in front of your father.”

“Why?”

“Cause it would be funny.” Cas tells her with a wink while Jack hummed in agreement, a big smile on his face.

As Cas drove slowly through the icy road, he was smiling, fighting back a laugh, unable to stop remembering the day he returned to Earth. Returned to Dean.

It was a few days of Earth time after Chuck was defeated that Cas escaped with his brothers and sisters, along with a few demons that tagged along. He made sure Ruby stayed asleep and behind, not wanting her to bother Sam or Eileen. He never did find Crowley or Meg, even spending some time calling out for both of them when he realized so many were woken up.

Jack found him and helped him up to heaven to try to fix whatever they could. He didn’t ask about Dean or Sam but Jack reassured him that they were fine.

“Let me make you stronger, Cas.” Jack reached for him but Cas stopped him, shaking his head.

“I don’t plan on being an angel for long, Jack. So let me use whatever is left to help you.”

And he did. Two Earth months passed before everything was sort of decided upstairs. Raphael wasn’t the biggest fan of the new dynamic but he followed orders, happy it wasn’t under Chuck and he could actually interact with whoever was in charge.

Cas could feel more of his grace slip away from him when he was with Bobby, reassuring him that his boys were the hero’s he believed them to be, and most importantly they were happy.

“Are you going back to them?” Bobby asked as he sipped at his beer, Cas sat beside him drinking one of his own. Tasted just like the first one Dean has ever given him.

Cas hummed into the bottle. “I am.”

“But they think you’re six feet under?”

“They do.” He looked down at his bottle, peeling away the label with his thumbs. “Sometimes I believe that Dean doesn’t think so.”

“Why is that?”

“He prays to me constantly.” Cas smiles, listening to Dean’s prayer right now. “Right now he’s complaining about the crowd at the grocery store.” He chuckles. “And he’s right. I do hate waiting in those long lines.”

Bobby doesn’t say much but the way he says, “Just take care of my boy.” Felt like the blessing he needed, the push, to finally go back to Dean.

Jack was coming down to Earth with him. It may take a while longer to figure out the spell to conceal and hold Jack’s God powers but they would figure it out. Amara promises to find them a way to help him and will contact them soon, giving Jack a final squeeze before she disappears.

Cas gave Gabriel one last hug, Adam even gave him one even though he was sure Michael wasn’t the hugging type before Jack flew them back to Earth. Appearing in the middle of the bunker’s library.

Jack ran off with a small smile on his lips, it was constantly strained and never reached his eyes as his powers overwhelmed him, to go look for the brothers. Cas was feeling dizzy from the flight so he shut his eyes, taking a hold of the back of the chair to steady himself.

Then he looked up when he heard a bottle break. There was a figure laying on top of the map table.

Cas took out his blade and made his wobbly legs steady before making his way over. Kicking empty beer bottles as he went. Then two bottles of bourbon by the steps. Then he saw the broken bottle of tequila that now laid on the floor by the table.

His eyes traveled up to the map table to see Dean sat blinking over at him. Head tilted and mouth slightly parted. As if he still couldn’t put a name to his face.

Cas put his blade down and made his way over to the drunk hunter. “Be careful there is glass everywhere.”

When he made it to the broken bottle he pushed it into a neat pile with his shoe.

“How about you go to bed and I’ll clean this up?” Cas leaned down to pick up the bigger pieces but he was quick to cut himself. “Fuck.” Cas hissed as he realized he couldn’t find any grace to even heal himself enough to stop the bleeding.

Dean gently reaches down to take Cas’s bleeding hand. “The last time I saw you, the real you, the same hand was bleeding.” Dean held on to his hand and tears started to fall into Cas’s hand. “I wish I could have at least helped you patch it up. I wish I could have at least done one goddamn thing for you.”

“Dean.” Cas reached to touch Dean’s face with the tips of his fingers but Dean pushed his face into his palm. His heart raced as he cradled Dean’s face in his good hand while his other hand was being held so gently.

“I miss you, Cas.” His eyes closed as Cas’s thumb started to make circles around his cheek all on its own. Feeling the stubble that was growing too long for Dean’s liking. “I miss you so damn much and I just...I don’t-I don’t think you’re coming back this time.”

“I’m back, Dean.” Cas tells him with urgency. Taking his bleeding hand back to grab Dean’s face, wanting to make him look at him. When Dean blinks up at him again his eyes start to water. “I’m back! I’m here. I’m here, Dean. As long as you want me.”

“Cas?” Dean finally seems to look at him, actually see him. “You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“You’re back?” Dean covers Cas’s bloody hand with his own while the other one reaches to grip the trench coat.

“Yes, dumbass.” Cas chuckles through his tears.

Dean tugs at Cas’s coat and pulls him into a hug. His arms wrapped around his shoulders into a tight embrace, his nose nuzzled into Cas’s neck. His breath tickling him and his breath...horrendous.

“You stink, Dean.” Cas hugs him back as he hides his face into Dean’s shoulder.

“I love you.” Dean says as he pulls himself closer.

“I know. I heard your prayers.” Cas chuckles into Dean’s skin. “I love you too.”

Dean pulls back so suddenly that it scares Cas. Thinking maybe he said something wrong but then Dean made another sudden move.

“Marry me!”

Cas choked on his breath when he couldn’t even find his next words.

“Cas, marry me!” His eyes were wide, eyes dilated and a flushed face. Clearly drunk out of his mind. “You’re back so we can get married now! I mean...I think you need to ask Sam for my hand but fuck him for ditching me for Eileen today. Let’s get married before he gets home.”

Dean started to pull him towards the stairs, both of them stumbling over their feet for two different reasons.

“Can I come too?” Jack finally made his way towards them. “I can be a flower boy!”

“Jack, we’re not getting married.” Cas tells him, his head spinning. “I just…Dean, you’re drunk!”

“Am not!” Dean argued back, his brows furrowed together. Cas’s shoulders relaxed as he looked at how cute his grumpy expression was. “Say you’ll marry me, Cas!”

“Fine, I’ll marry you!” Cas smiles back at him and the grin that shined through Dean’s eyes made his heart race. Fuck, he really missed him. “But not tonight. Tonight we sleep off the alcohol.”

Dean Winchester was pouting at him and his heart ached. He reached to grip at his own shirt, right over his heart. “Dean, please.”

“But I love you.”

“Aww,” Jack pouted back at him. “Dad, he loves you!”

“Jack, you are not helping.” Cas glared at him and then before he looked back at Dean he had a pair of hot lips pressed against his own. Dean was kissing him.

Before he could even enjoy the kiss or even register it completely, Dean was throwing up on his shoes.

Back in the garage, Cas was grinning when he stepped into the warm office. Dean was in the front office when he walked in, the phone between his shoulder and ear as he typed away in the computer. His eyes widened when he saw Cas but then a smile spread across his lips.

“Yes, we’ll send someone right over to tow your car right over. It shouldn’t take more than two to look at. Of course. It’ll be ready by tomorrow. No worries. Okay, have a nice day.” He hung up the phone and quickly rushed to pull Cas into a quick kiss and a tight hug. “Babe, what are you doing here? I said the roads were still too icy to drive in.”

“And yet you put snow chains on my tiers this morning.” Cas hands him his lunch that his boyfriend takes with a grin.

“It’s cause I know you wouldn't listen.” He kisses Cas’s cheek. “Thanks, Babe. You have time to eat lunch with me?”

“I always have time for you, Dean.”

When lunch was over Cas walked back to his truck, Dean fixing the beanie over his head once again. Giving him a quick kiss before saying, “Get home safely.”

“You too, sweetheart.” Cas waves at him when he quickly rushes to the warmth of his truck. Then before he gets into the car he looks back at Dean, who of course was still looking back at him, “Oh, by the way, Claire wants to hear the story of how we got together.”

Dean stood there for a few seconds as his face dropped, cute grumpy. “No.”

“I promised to tell her over dinner!”

“No!”

“Love you!”

“Cas, babe, no!”

“Love you! Bye!”

“Love you too but no! Cas!”

That drunk proposal felt like years ago instead of months.

Of course, the best part of the night was the following morning.

Cas woke up with Dean staring down at him, eyes red and filled with tears but a soft smile on his lips. Fingers running through his hair in a gentle caress. Never feeling more at home than he did that morning in Dean’s bed.

“I thought it was creepy to watch people sleep.” Cas mumbles as he reaches over to rub his eyes with the palm of his hands.

“It is but you’re, um...you’re cute when you sleep.” Dean admitted while Cas froze his face warming up under his hands. “Are you really here, Cas?”

He finally pulled his hands down to stare back at Dean. “I am.”

“And you’re here to stay? Human?”

“I am.” Cas stood still under Dean’s intense stare. “If you’ll have me.”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned down to kiss him breathless.

Cas, as well as Jack, was made to promise not to talk about the proposal. Especially the throwing up part or the Jack carrying a passed out Dean to his bed. Cleaning both of them up before he went back to his own room.

Still, he loved to tease him every chance he got. And he knew their daughter will do the same.

#Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #Jack #Jack Winchester #A Child #My Writing #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #spnadventcalendar #destiel advent calendar #sort of a stand alone coda fic if you squint a little

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croscupsroom · 3 years

Text

True Happiness (T, pre Sam/Castiel, 1.5 k.) True happiness lies in the mundane (and it’s bedtime for Sam and Castiel). Set some time after 14.08. Read on AO3.

AN: if it looks familiar, i have posted this before but accidentally deleted that account. thought i'd reupload it since i put it on AO3.

AN: short mention of cas having skipped meals, towards the end.

In the evenings now, Castiel likes to go down to Sam’s room, and hangs out in it doing quiet activities or watching TV until Sam comes to bed. They’ve had this routine for a while, only skipping nights when the brothers are out of town. This time, it’s not exactly the evening — more like the middle of the night, not that long before it crisps into early morning.

Sam doesn’t have the healthiest of sleep schedules. He sleeps too little, at imprecise hours. That doesn’t bother Castiel. He doesn’t sleep at all, so Sam’s lack of habits doesn’t inconvenience him. What preoccupies him is Sam’s health. He listened to a podcast episode, once, that detailed how exactly lack of sleep could impact human bodies. Hearing that made him think of Sam, sluggish; of the cogs in his brain rickety from too few hours of rest. It made him worry about future outcomes.

“Alright, Dean,” Sam says from outside his bedroom door. This signals the end of a conversation Castiel wasn’t privy to. Like most of theirs, really.

Cas sits on the bed, legs extended in front of him. His shoes are on the floor, by the bottom of the bed. He’s wearing pajamas. Something tells him that the flannel feels pleasant, where it falls on the outside of his shell.

The last time they went to Goodwill together to shop for Jack, Sam pointed out the set on the rack. Maybe you’ll like this better than sitting in your clothes all night long , Sam said like the subject might bristle Cas.

Castiel is an angel. Clothes are all the same to him. What the remark told him, though, was that it must bother Sam for him not to change himself at bedtime. Why else would he suggest it at all, or so cautiously? Castiel wondered if it was that the trench coat’s noise bothered him, whenever some of the polyester canvas rubbed on itself in soft scratches that made him cringe. Maybe it was that Castiel disrespected some social convention without realizing it, and Sam was hinting at some way to fix it.

Looking at the flannel on the hanger, Castiel wondered if it was that Sam might want him to get undressed at night, and act as though they were going to bed together.

Of course , Castiel said then. I’d like that better.

You sure? Sam retreated, like he was worried that he had pushed Cas too far, and forced his answer.

I am, yes. I’m sure this sleepwear will be more comfortable. That was a lie, but one that he hoped would reassure his friend.

Sam, swelling up in relief, put the pajamas in the cart and waited for Castiel to follow him to the next rack.

Since then, Castiel changed into the pajamas in the evening before Sam turned in for the night. They developed their own little rituals, like maybe Sam was hoping to by suggesting the pajamas in the first place.

“What’re you watching?” Sam asks. The TV’s on, the volume barely above a whisper. He kicks off his shoes, his feet now bare on the concrete.

“I’ve been rewatching Arrested Development.”

“Oh, yeah? Again?”

They first watched it together years ago, when Castiel started spending his evenings in Sam’s room. He rewatches it sometimes on his own. Even after all these times, it still eludes him.

“The humor puzzles me.”

“Yeah. I can see it being hard to take in.” The remark could come off as condescending, but it doesn’t. Sam is trying to understand where Cas is coming from.

As Sam begins brushing his teeth at the sink, Castiel pauses the show. Sam has his back to Cas, and his eyes are focused on the porcelain below. He doesn’t own a pajama set — he always just puts on sweatpants and an old t-shirt for bed.

Sometimes, it seems like Sam is more weathered every time he comes into Castiel’s consciousness. He’s very different from the young man Castiel met not so long ago — a dull translucent rock, from what was once a sharp-edged fragment of a glass bottle.

Castiel hasn’t spent much time thinking about the effects of underground living on human morale. He imagines it can’t be too good, living in a bunker without windows like Sam and Dean do. Troglobites are hardly the most vibrant lifeforms. Human societies, if they can help it, do not choose this environment for themselves. If he tried, Castiel could surely find a podcast episode available about the subject — something about miners maybe, and their getting hopelessly stuck in a shaft somewhere. But that wouldn’t help. That’s nothing like Sam’s situation at all.

“Do you want to finish the, uh, documentary series?” he asks. They started that one a few nights ago. These past two, Sam shook his head no when Cas asked him, saying he was too tired. He’s about to do the same, but seems to think better of it.

“Yeah, sure.” They have three episodes left. They can get through at least one tonight.

Usually, Castiel lays on top of the bed, postured impeccably, while Sam slouches underneath the covers. This time, Sam holds up the sheets for longer than usual after he gets in, as an invitation. So. Castiel tucks his legs alongside Sam. The bed is a double — not exactly meant for two men’s size — so their physical closeness is pure happenstance. Sam’s head resting on his upper arm, as it is right now, is the most they ever touch.

“Play it,” Sam says. He gestures vaguely to the remote in Castiel’s hand.

The series exposes an unsolved string of murder, the botched investigation, and the cover-up around it. It’s quite harrowing. Castiel is always amazed at how Sam will relax by listening to the most gruesome stories. Often, he’ll fall asleep to episode collections of Forensic Files. Castiel will turn it off for him, once he’s out.

At the end of the episode, Sam is already almost asleep, his lids heavy .

“Sam, you should go to sleep,” Castiel tells him, prying him off his side.

Sam nods, yawns again. Castiel turns off the TV, then hands Sam the remote so he can put it on his side of the bed.

As he turns to lay back down, Sam stops for a moment, resting on his elbow, turned towards his friend. “Hey, Cas,” he murmurs. His eyes are quiet and waiting, in the dim light. “You know, uh. I really like it when you spend the night with me, you know that?”

Castiel doesn’t know that. Sam’s never said that, not in so many words. It’s just something they’ve been doing. It’s nice to have this time just for themselves, to do things that aren’t related to killing anyone.

“I like spending my nights here, too,” Castiel replies. He means it. “Do you want the light on or off?”

“On is fine, thanks. Night, Cas.”

“Alright.”

He usually says that, as a courtesy, if Castiel doesn’t keep watching TV after he’s gone to sleep. Cas can see just as well in the dark, after all — he’s not constrained by the visible light spectrum.

Castiel picks up the book by his bedside. Sam lent it to him, after he said he was looking for a novel to read. It’s a quiet activity that passes the time at night, so he can stay beside Sam without bothering his sleep. Sam’s copy is the English version of the novel, translated from Kikuyu by the author himself. If he wanted to, Castiel could easily read the original. Human languages are all more or less one and the same, or so he’s observed for himself. He thinks about the myriad of dead languages Sam can decipher, and the countless living ones he’ll never understand. Maybe it’s about picking his battles. Kikuyu would come in handy less often than Latin or Aramaic in his line of work.

In any case. Castiel hasn’t considered seeking out the original in any serious way. He likes the idea of reading from Sam’s copy, dog-earing the pages along the same creases, seeing which passages he underlined.

Castiel leans back against the headboard. His foot rests somewhere along Sam’s shin.

This is a nice moment. He likes living it.

Almost unnoticeably, the world around Castiel dims.

A blip brings him back. He collects his presence. He checks on Sam sleeping beside him, and the weight of the room. It all feels odd — like he’s just an inch aside from himself.

Just now, Castiel felt as though he was falling backwards, although his body remained upright, solid. Like he was caught over the eyes by shadowy hands and yanked backwards, speeding through sludge, caving into the outline of himself. It reminded him of when he was human, and hadn’t eaten enough.

He’s not human, however. His body can’t get weak from skipping meals. He has no use for food.

To his right, Sam is already asleep. His pretty head is turned towards Castiel, his hair spread on the pillow. Castiel will have to be more careful. Every time, the dimness lasts longer, becomes darker.

Castiel stares at the pages in his hands. “Good night, Sam,” he says.

#my writing #spn #OS

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thisisapaige · 4 years

Text

Life In Reverse

(For Suptober20. Day 25 Prompt: Villain. Word Count: 1790)

Decided to do a season 10 divergence (after episode 10x14) and write about Mark of Cain Dean. Here’s the Ao3 link!

The hollowed out Impala told Castiel everything he needed to know.

Dean had done well over the past year. He was always a half-step ahead of Sam and Castiel, always keeping an escape plan in mind, and, the few times he stumbled, he was able to improvise himself out of a tight spot. He chose carefully: monsters, murders, criminals. Becoming a sort of vigilante, Dean had made the best of a bad situation. He was always a hero at heart.

It was clear, however, that the Mark's hunger had grown.

The King of Hell was dead. Ever since then, Castiel had more bodies, more evidence to follow.

Which was why he was standing before a cabin in the middle of a Washington forest, devoid of any human life, staring at the empty carcass of what was once Dean's Baby.

Castiel was running out of time. His angel blade close at hand-- though he prayed he need not use it-- Castiel climbed the rotting steps of the cabin's porch and opened the door. He stepped into an old kitchen, the appliances long since ripped out of their places and sold for parts. Empty liquor bottles covered the countertops, hiding the broken tiles. This was not a place a human could live but, Castiel realized with a pang in his heart, Dean was not exactly human anymore.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, his hand curled around an empty beer bottle, was Dean. He did not look up at Castiel's entrance.

"Well, here we go again." Dean put the bottle to his lips, sighing when he remembered it was empty. "When are you gonna figure out I'm the villain of this story?"

"You're not," Castiel said.

"Yeah." Dean shook his head, staring down the neck of the bottle. "Tell that to all the dead people."

"If you'd just listen--"

"Listen to what, Cas? I tried, you know? I tried to fight it but--" He touched his arm, the red sleeve of his shirt hiding the Mark underneath. "This is it."

"We'll find another way, Dean," Castiel said, moving further into the room until all that was between him and Dean was the kitchen island. "There's always another way. Sam's been researching and he thinks--"

"You still think you can save me, even now?" Dean snorted. "C'mon, Cas, I know you've been tracking me this whole time. I know you've seen everything I did."

"I have faith."

"Hate to break it to you, Cas, but God doesn't give a shit."

"I didn't say it was in God."

That comment made Dean look up. His lips were drawn into a thin line, his skin had a sickly sheen to it, and his eyes were nearly lost in the dark circles around them. There was smoke forming behind those eyes. They were still green, however. Castiel could still see the man, the person, the individual behind them. As long as there was a single shred of hope, a last dreg of humanity left in those eyes, Castiel would not give up.

When Dean met Castiel's eyes, his jaw dropped open. "Wait. You look different."

Castiel checked his shoes, looked at his pants, and smoothed down the front of his trench coat. "I appear the same as ever."

"No. No, you don't. You--" Dean stepped forward and leaned closer to Castiel. "You got a bunch of eyes and, like"-- His eyes flitted around Castiel's head-- "a bunch of heads. Is that a deer?"

Yes, Castiel was correct: Dean was not quite human anymore. They were running out of time.

"An impala, actually." Castiel blinked with all his eyes. Dean watched the movement with wide-eyed wonder. "You're seeing my true form."

"Whoa." For a moment, Dean's burden lifted and he was a man again, talking to his best friend. "You're telling me you've been walking around like that this whole time?"

With Dean's eyes on him like that, with the way he could see Castiel's innermost being, Castiel, for the first time in his long existence, blushed.

"I'm not quite as luminescent these days." Castiel pointed to the left of his head. "The lion has been sleeping for years."

"Still, dude, that's pretty cool."

The cabin lapsed into silence. The little sun that made it past the overcast sky, through the forest's trees, and into the kitchen window cast the room in an eerie grey glow. The smoke behind Dean's eyes swirled.

"Cas? I, uh--" Dean crossed his arms and stared down at the bottles scattered over the kitchen island. "I'm not supposed to be able to see that, huh?"

"No," Castiel said.

Dean rubbed his arms, rubbed the mark under his clothes. "What's gonna happen to me?"

Dean was turning into something, something demonic, something the world had not seen since Cain. Castiel did not say that. It did not matter. It did not matter because--

"I'm going to save you," Castiel said.

Dean laughed, high and humourless. "I wish I had your faith."

"Don't worry. I have enough for both of us."

When Castiel tried to move around the island, Dean skittered back as far as he could go. He pressed his back tight against the counter behind him, his hands flat against the lower cabinets.

"Don't!" Dean shouted, eyes wild, words desperate. "Don't come any closer."

"Dean." Castiel remained behind the island but his hands itched to soothe the tension in Dean's body. "What's wrong?"

"I'm living his life in reverse. First-- first Crowley then, then…" Dean froze. After a long deliberate silence, Dean relaxed. He spoke slowly, calmly. "You're very powerful, angel."

Instantly, Castiel was at attention. He dropped his blade into his hand and rolled his weight onto the balls of his feet. While he was prepared for a fight, Castiel was not ready.

"That demon was just a snack but you…" Dean titled his head back, just enough so he could look down at Castiel, and licked his lips. "I think you'd be a whole meal."

"That's not you talking," Castiel said, fast, frantic, "it's the Mark."

The Mark on Dean's arm glowed. The First Blade appeared in his hand. The shadows in Dean's eyes swirled to the front, turning them black. Dean smirked.

Dean raised the blade. "When are you gonna figure out I'm the villain of this story?"

In one fluid, fast movement, Dean leapt over the kitchen island-- not a single bottle rattled-- and landed right before Castiel. Dean ran the edge of his blade over Castiel’s body, soft and teasing, from belt to chest.

Castiel’s weapon went slack in his hand. He did not want to use it. The thought of pushing the angel blade through Dean’s chest brought back the image of a warehouse floor covered in bodies, all wearing the same face.

The angel blade clattered against the floor.

Dean pushed the point of the First Blade against Castiel’s chin, forcing his head back. “Not even a fight? Guess I was wrong.”

“I won’t hurt you, Dean.”

“Why not? I’d hurt you. Shit, I have.”

Castiel looked down at the First Blade. It shook in Dean’s hand. Castiel peered beyond the hand and stared right into Dean’s eyes. They were green, with no smoke to be found.

“You want me to fight you,” Castiel said, realizing the truth as he spoke. “You want me to hurt you.”

“I want you to kill me, Cas.” Tears welled in Dean’s eyes. “This all could have been avoided if you had tossed me into the sun when I asked.”

Castiel grabbed Dean’s arm, laying his palm over the Mark. “Not when I can still save you.”

“Cas. You gotta finish me off, man.” Dean’s hand trembled; the edge of the Blade scratched Castiel’s skin. “You have no idea how hard it is to keep from slitting your throat.”

Castiel used his other hand to wipe away the tear on Dean’s cheek, the pad of his thumb rasping over the stubble. “You deserved to be saved.”

Sam believed it would work. He was adamant about it, in fact. Castiel was not so sure. While he was certain the connection was true on his end, he had no way of knowing if it were the same for Dean. As long as there was a hint of the man, of the person, of the soul Castiel loved behind Dean’s eyes, Castiel would have to try.

He gathered all his power, all his grace, all his being, into his palm. Every piece and part of Castiel, every ounce of his love, surged from his core and into Dean. Castiel opened all his eyes. The lion roared.

The Mark burned.

⁂

“Cas. Cas. C’mon, buddy, wake up.”

Castiel opened his eyes. All two of them.

“There we go. Just like that.”

A strong arm was wrapped around Castiel’s shoulder. A warm hand rested on his chest. A pair of legs supported his back.

The moment Castiel recognized the cabin, remembered the person holding him, he reached out and grabbed Dean’s arm, pushing the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow.

Nothing but smooth, clean skin. Castiel ran his finger over it, sighing in relief.

“It worked,” Castiel breathed.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “After your little light show, it was just poof! Gone!”

“It worked.” If Castiel said it again, perhaps he could process it all.

“Sure did, buddy. What did you do?”

In an old obscure shelf hidden in the deepest recess of the Men of Letters Bunker, Sam found a book. In it, there was a depiction of the Mark of Cain. The scholar theorized that, as the Mark of Cain was a symbol of hate and darkness, an equal and opposite force, like the light of an angel’s love, could counteract it. The theory was never tested, however, because the force of darkness and the force of light had to have a connection, had to feel for one another.

In short, Sam was correct. Dean did love Castiel back.

Still holding Dean’s arm-- his human, unmarked arm-- Castiel sat up. His joints ached and his head hurt and his stomach felt hollow but none of that mattered. Castiel placed a hand upon Dean’s cheek and gazed into Dean’s eyes, his bright green eyes free of smoke.

“I used my grace to burn the Mark from your soul.” Castiel blinked with two eyes. “They’re both gone now.”

“Wait. Wait.” Dean’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me you’re human now?”

“Completely.” Castiel’s thumb ran circles over the skin on Dean’s forearm. “We both are.”

Dean stared at Castiel. He said nothing. He did not move.

It was clear Dean did not know how to react. Castiel did. He leaned forward and left a soft kiss on Dean’s lips. Castiel whispered against them.

“Dean Winchester is saved."

#suptober20 #destiel #destiel fic #spn fic #spn #supernatural #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #mark of cain #angst #i don't know how to tag #and at this point i am too afraid to ask #enjoy!#writing paige

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sidecarghost · 4 years

Text

Spn 12x11 “Regarding Dean” Canon Divergent Destiel Fic

Suptober20 - Day 26 Walk of Shame

Notes: Dean and Castiel both get a chance to ride the mechanical bull in this canon div fic.

Dean feels a cool breeze and reaches for a blanket to wrap himself in. But his hand finds nothing but... grass? His head pounds and his eyes protest as he wills them open. So, at some point his latest escapades got him passed out in a field. He pushes himself up into a seated position. The feral bunny that had been nuzzled into his side gives him a look of reproach.

“Hey little buddy,” Dean tells the bunny. “Do you know how I got here?”

The bunny hops away. Dean realizes he is missing some things like his phone, car keys, and clothes. He just has his brown bear boxer-briefs on. So last night either went really well or really bad. Sam would know. Just gotta give him a call. Dean walks in a random direction hoping to find someone for help.

Dean doesn’t have to look long, as he almost trips over a dude sleeping along the trail. This guy is following Dean’s trend of wearing underwear as sleepwear for the great outdoors. “Hey,” Dean reaches a foot out to tap the sleeping dude.

“Hey yourself,” a deep voice groggily answers.

“Cas?” Dean questions.

The not quite awake Castiel rolls over and squints at Dean. “Hello Dean,” he says. “You aren’t wearing any pants.” Castiel informs his friend.

“Yeah Cas,” Dean responds. “I’m not the only one.”

“So it would seem. Let me know when you solve the mystery of our wayward clothes.” Castiel yawns and begins to nod off again.

***

“Cas, what are you doing? You don’t sleep remember?”

“That does sound like something I’ve said,” Castiel admits.

“Come on buddy. Let’s try to find someone that can help us.” Dean tells the nearly comatose angel.

Castiel moans in a way that Dean decides is unfairly pornographic. Dean then finds himself staring as Castiel performs a full body stretch by reaching his arms back behind his head and stretching his feet out in the opposite direction. This maneuver causes all the well toned muscles on Castiel’s body to flex. Damn, Dean thinks, walking with Castiel in his underwear just got way more awkward.

“I’m going up the trail. Catch up when you can,” Dean tells Castiel as he hastily retreats away from his friend.

After a few minutes, Castiel has caught up to Dean on the trail and they see a park up ahead. Dean would rather not get arrested for public indecency, so he tries to think of a plan to somehow get a phone without exposing himself.

“Cas we can’t just walk into a park in our skivvies,” Dean says. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Um... if Sam was an angel we could pray to him to bring us clothes.”

“Do we know any angels that aren’t dicks and could help us?” Dean asks.

“No,” Castiel admits. “Networking has always been a challenge for me.“

“No worries Cas, nobody’s perfect.” Dean responds. As Dean considers their next move, he notices a runner in the park. The runner is the size of a small giant, and he has his trademark long, flowing hair partially covered by a beanie. “Hey Cas, look we are saved!” Dean shouts, “SAMMY!”

Sam turns at the sound of his name and runs up to Dean and Castiel. “Uh, why are you guys wearing nothing but your underwear in the woods?”

“I don’t know Sammy. Cas and I just woke up here. I can’t remember anything from yesterday.” Dean tells his brother.

“I know what happened. Apparently the memory curse doesn’t affect angels.” Castiel tells the brothers. “Dean and I went to a bar last night, and the bar had a mechanical bull.”

“Oh, wow a mechanical bull! How awesome is that?” Dean says excitedly.

“Yeah, you said the same thing last night, Dean. Anyway, Dean dared me to ride the bull. I knew if my vessel had full range of motion I would have more success at riding through the bucks.

“So I removed my trench coat, suit jacket, tie, and shirt. I still had my wifebeater on to preserve my vessel’s decency. I also removed my shoes and socks and hiked up my pants to help with gripping the bull between my legs. Dean must have been impressed with my performance because I could feel his eyes fixed on me while I rolled my hips through every buck that bull took me on.

“After my turn, I asked Dean what he thought of my riding. He responded with some unintelligible swear words. I went to grab my shirt, but Dean grabbed me by the arm before I could put it back on. I turned to look at him, and Dean fixed his eyes on mine.

“Dean had lowered his voice to barely a whisper when he told me I made him jealous of the bull. I have heard trillions of romantic declarations during my existence, but Dean’s utterance was easily the most romantic thing ever said by your species. So I kissed Dean. I haven’t kissed a lot but I thought the kiss was good, and that I would like to keep kissing Dean for the next several eons until the Sun consumed the Earth and we both became stardust.

“I was relieved to find out Dean seemed to also have a good opinion on the kiss, because we kept on kissing. We let our tongues lazily discover the sensation of slowly tracing out each other’s mouths. The sensation was very enjoyable.”

“That’s nice, Cas. But I think we should focus on the part of your memories that deals with you guys getting cursed,” Sam tells Castiel.

Dean gives Sam a bitchface and then tells Castiel, “Just ignore Sammy, Cas. I want to hear more about the things we did last night,” Dean says with something that sounds like longing in his voice.

“So eventually,” Castiel continues, “Dean wanted a turn at the bull too. He decided to follow my method and also stripped down to his undershirt. Dean hopped onto the bull and then waved me over asking me to join him.”

“Um... is this really relevant to getting cursed?” Sam asks.

“Shhh, don’t interrupt Sammy,” Dean says. “How did things go with the two of us on the bull Cas?”

“It was a little different from riding the bull solo,” Castiel reflects. “I got in position in front of you. And we leaned into each other in rhythm with the mechanical bucks. Our legs tangled together as we thrust through the motion. Dean wrapped one arm around my waist, and I gripped his arm back with one of mine.”

“My vessel began getting aroused from the whole experience. And I could feel evidence of Dean’s arousal each time he rolled his hips behind me. Dean suggested we go to the Impala at this point.”

“Holy shit Cas! I do not want to hear about you and my brother having sex in the Impala,” Sam complains.

“Well, then you are in luck Sam because we did not get that far. We had stripped off everything left but our underwear. I hadn’t realized what a brilliant construction the human somatosensory system was before last night. Every nerve receptor was set on fire from the feel of Dean’s finger tips touching my skin. Dean asked if his touches felt good, and I tried to make the most eloquent response possible with a ragged moan. I had once thought soulmates spending eternity in Heaven with just each other for company probably got boring. But last night I felt like spending forever in the Impala with Dean would be the most wonderful thing imaginable. And that forever wouldn’t be nearly enough time.

“But then this drunk guy stumbled and bumped into the Impala. I recognized him as the witch we were hunting. Dean and I burst out of the backseat to run the witch down. We ended up chasing him into these woods, but we both ran a little slower than usual because we didn’t have any footwear protecting our feet.

“Our delay gave the witch ahead of us enough time to cast a spell. The effects of the spell caused us both to go unconscious, and apparently also caused Dean to lose his memories. But I know all the witch’s info, so we should go to his family’s home to break the curse. Then Dean will get his memories back, and we can pick up where we left off.”

“Fuck yeah, let’s go already,” Dean agrees.

“Okay, okay just meet me by the road up 1/4 mile where it stays close to the woods. You can jump in the back seat of my rental car without being seen by anyone.” Sam says.

“Awesome, Sammy we will see you in a few minutes then.” Dean tells his brother. Sam nods and turns away to walk over to the parking lot on the far end of the park.

Dean and Castiel begin to walk further into the woods in the direction Sam pointed to them. Dean looks over at his friend and smiles at Castiel, and Castiel can feel the heat rushing to his vessel’s face. Dean reaches a hand out, and Castiel smiles softly back to Dean as he tenderly entwines their fingers together.

Dean thought about how he had been wanting to kiss Castiel ever since he had met him, and now he was pissed that some asshole witch had taken that away from him. But holding Castiel’s hand helped simmer the rage building in his blood. Castiel always helped ground him when everything else seemed to spiral out of control. He wished he could remember the feel of Castiel’s lips on his own.

Dean pauses on the trail, and he looks at Castiel and says almost shyly, “Cas, I was thinking we could try another first kiss before I get my memories back.”

“I would like that, Dean,” Castiel says with a smile.

“Only thing is, I should have asked Sam for a mint because I’m sure I got some wicked morning breath,” Dean laments.

“I’m an angel of the lord, Dean. I can fix morning breath,” Castiel says. Castiel continues to hold Dean’s hand with one of his own, and reaches his other hand towards Dean’s face. He then traces a finger over Dean’s lips. Dean playfully catches Castiel’s finger with his mouth and sucks down on it. Dean is rewarded with a sexy moan from Castiel, and the feeling of clean, minty freshness on his teeth and tongue. Castiel’s finger is let free from Dean’s mouth, and Dean resolutely determines to give Castiel a kiss that an immortal being would remember for the rest of their existence.

Sam has been waiting on the side of the road for the past 45 minutes. He figures he knows exactly what is happening in the woods, and although he is happy that his brother and best friend found love, having to wait while they are hooking up is not how he wants to spend his morning. He considers driving back to the motel and leaving Dean and Castiel to walk back on their own.

And Sam chuckles at the thought of a billion year old angel doing the walk of shame with his brother. Fighting the supernatural takes a lot more away from the brothers, than it ever gives. But sometimes the universe conspires to make everything fun and ridiculous again. Sam checks the trunk for a duffle bag with a couple sets of spare clothes. He drops the bag and a burner phone in a place where it seems obvious from the woods, but isn’t visible to passing motorists.

Sam gets back in the driver seat and starts the car. As he drives back to the motel, he enjoys laughing to himself every time he thinks of Dean’s face when he realizes he’ll be walking back to the motel.

#suptober20 #spn #destiel #destiel fic #supernatural

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idunnoficsorsumthing · 3 years

Text

Own room

Hey everyoneeeee, sorry for the absence, and Oh My God! Destiel is a thing?! I was shocked to watch it and stuff and it was something... after years of wanting them to be together it was an oh my god i am freaking out moment but also from all the scenarios i imagined it this was probably one of the worst.

I accidentally posted this on my other account so with a minor change I posted it again on this account.

The plane ride back to the states had seemed like such a long journey. A flight you had been dreading, because even though you were excited to see the Winchesters back again. You were a little scared to see Castiel again. Sweet, oblivious Cas. You were absolutely smitten with him. Eventhough it was stupid because he is a celestial being that was probably unaffected by romance. But, you weren’t, everytime he looked, or touched your hand, and perhaps that is why you hadn’t visited in a while. When Sam called you over for help in finding something, or someone you should say.

Sam picked you up from the airport, and the two of you discussed the case on the ride over to the motel the boys were staying at. You entered the motel room, and the first thing you noticed was Dean messily eating his fries. “hey, how are the cows?” he asked. You instantly regret telling him about the farm. “Hey Dean.” you said, sitting down on the bed next to him. The motel room had two beds. You sit down next to him, and steal one fry. “Get your own.” he snapped. Yet, he had a smile on his face. “I spent 18 hours traveling from Siena to Cartersville Georgia. Give me some fries, man.” you chuckle. Dean pushed his styrofoam package towards you to eat. “Thank you.” you said, placing a kiss on his cheek. He chuckled, taking a napkin and cleaning his hands a bit. “No Cas?” You ask. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or not. You wanted to see his face, and yet. “Cas is gone for a bit. He said he needed to deal with some angel business.” Sam said, sitting down on his bed. “You have no idea where he is.” you laughed, Dean shrugged. “Where who is?” Cas said, he was now standing in the corner of the room. “Jesus Cas.” Dean exclaimed.

You put the key in the lock of your room, when Cas appeared next to you. “What are you doing here?” you ask him. “I am staying with you to protect you.” he said, you laugh, but as his facial expression didn’t change you abruptly stopped laughing. “Cas, I don’t need a babysitter.” you tell him. You step inside the room, with your bags in your arms. Cas followed you in. “These are Leviathans, Y/n. Not vampires.” he warned you. You signed, setting down your bags. “Fine you can have that chair.” You said, pointing at the chair in the corner. You fall down on your California size bed, closing your eyes for a bit. You felt so tired. It took you a few moments before you realised Cas was still looking at you. “You should change.” Cas noted. You open your eyes, and glare at him. “Yeah okay.” you said, agreeing. You get up from the bed, and take some pajamas from your suitcase. You walk to the bathroom to change when you return Cas was still standing, not really sure what to do. “Please sit down, you are giving me the creeps.” You said to him.

You lie in bed, and you close your eyes, and yet now you couldn’t sleep. You open your eyes again, and Cas was staring at you. “I know you don’t sleep. But, stop staring at me.” you chuckle. He just shrugs. “I am quite enjoying sitting here. It is better than staring at Sam for half the night.” he said, you laugh loudly. You wondered what it would be like if he stepped into bed, what it’d be like to fall asleep next to him. You needed to stop that before he would know what you were thinking. You knew Dean and Sam were protected from reading minds but you weren’t, he would know. “I am quite delightful in bed.” Cas said, you choke on air. You weren’t sure if that was possible but you did. You kept staring at him because you didn’t know what to say to him. “What?” You ask. “I don’t have cold feet.” he answered. You laugh, and you mentally banged your head against the bedpost. “Take off the trench coat, and come here.” You tell him, he complied to your request leaving the coat on the chair. Take off the shoes, you thought. He complied to that too. He stood in front of the side of the bed. You pat on the bed, and lift the sheet for him. He was lying down next to you, and you hadn’t thought about the fact that this was a new kind of comfortable. You go lie on your side, Cas was looking at the ceiling. “Hey Cas?” you said, Cas looked at you, and you wondered what he was thinking. “I’m thinking that I want to kiss you.” he said, you hide your face under the blanket only exposing your eyes. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. “It doesn’t help that you are saying my father’s name.” Cas said, turning on his side. You had to laugh, you uncovered your face, pressing your lips against his. He put his hand on your cheek, and you moved your body closer to him.

You woke up that morning and Cas wasn’t there. You were however wearing Cas’s blouse, and you remembered that when you went to grab some water afterwards that you put it on. You figured he was with the boys. You get up, go to take a shower before you go to the boy’s room. When Cas also wasn’t there and you had meaningless sex before. But, this wasn’t meaningless for you. Mentally you discard all those thoughts in a big mental fire, and try to focus on finding Gabriel. After a couple of hours, Cas appeared again. “Cas, any new leads?” Dean asked. Cas didn’t say anything, he just stepped close to you, you were sitting with a laptop on one of the beds. Putting his finger under your chin, to hold you face up, pressing a kiss on your lips, with that single kiss you knew it wasn’t just something. “Yeah, I do.” he said:” My brother is hiding in an alternate world where he is pretending to be king of Spain.” Neither of the brothers seemed interested in where Gabriel was for that moment. “What the hell” Sam just exclaimed.

#castiel x reader #CAS #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel fanfiction #cas x you #cas x reader

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cuddly-dean-baby · 4 years

Note

Hey! What about one where the reader is Sam and Deans little sister (13-14) and a hunt goes wrong and Sam and dean die and she breaks down in Cas’ arms telling him what happend ? Thanks!

Let’s do this! Thank you for the request :p

Cas Is Always There

You and your brothers stand outside the wrecked and abandoned warehouse from taking a pack of wolves.

The three of you have some sort of wound on your face. Sam with claw marks, Dean have a small cut, and yourself having a cut on your eyebrow and a split lip.

“I think we got them.” You chuckle.

Sam and Dean give you their bitch faces. “You weren’t supposed to come!”

“Let alone hide in the backseat of Baby!” Dean finishes.

“At least you two bloody idjits are alive! If I hadn’t been in Baby, then both of you would be dead.” Your eyebrows are furrowed softly.

Dean and Sam start to talk, but their voices begin to fade out.

“Behind-” Your voice breaks the fading noise.

Dean and Sam turn around to have two wolves have an arm in each of your brothers’ chests.

“No!” You scream, raising your gun to shoot both the wolves’ in their heads as soon as their hands get out and be covered in the thick, crimson liquid.

Your brothers’ bodies drop to the ground.

You scream and cry whilst dropping to your knees. You start to hyperventilate. “Get up.” You manage to get out. They’re just playing some sick prank.

“No.” You look up to the voice. “What happened?” Cas asked. You say nothing, letting your struggled breathing take over.

He opens his arms for you, immediately running into them. One hand is on your lower back, the other cupping the back of your head.

He doesn’t care that your tears are wetting his trench coat. “(Y/N), you need to calm your breathing.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” His vessel’s heartbeat is calming you down. “What happened?” He repeated the question.

“I hid in the backseat of Baby as I had a bad feeling about this hunt. I helped them kill the pack and we thought we got them all, we did. But the two that killed them must’ve been hiding.”

After a few seconds of silence, “I’m going to take you back to the bunker.”

You shake your head against his chest, “No. You’re going to take us back to the bunker.” You glance up at him with tears in your eyes, wanting to slip out. He nods.

You slowly walk to Baby and sit in the passenger seat, watching Cas put the dead bodies of your brothers in the back seat. After that’s done, he sits in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t want to drive.” You say sadly. Cas nods as the engine starts and Baby is back onto the road.

On the way to the bunker, your head is resting in the angel’s lap, one of his hands lying on your side.

Once there, Cas carries you bridal style to your room. Your head rests against his neck, something you’d always do when Sam or Dean carried you.

Setting you on your bed, he leans you against the head rest and kisses your forehead, the kiss lingering for a moment, reminding you of the kisses good night.

“Can you stay?” Your voice is hoarse from the screams. “Yeah, I can.” Cas takes his shoes off to do your movement on the bed.

You move to lie your head on top of his chest. His arm wounds around your shoulder and draw lines and figure 8s on your back. You drape your leg in between his.

“I don’t want them gone, Cas. I want them back.”

“We’ll think of something.” He kisses the top of your head as you’re dozing off to sleep. “I’ll do something.”

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years

Text

Midnight Moments - Supernatural Reader Insert

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader (platonic or romantic, you chose); Castiel x reader

Warnings: Insomnia, slight language

Word count (revamped): 1143

A sigh escapes past your parted lips. You had tried everything, yet sleep still eluded you. It wasn’t the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last, but it certainly wasn't the first night this week. As much as you wanted to sleep until the sun was high in the sky the next day, your mind wouldn’t shut off, thus chasing away any hope of sleep that night.

You sit up in your bed, looking around the dingy motel room. The room sat in relative darkness, the only light coming from a cheap floor lamp near the door, giving you a soft glow just bright enough for you to see that both Sam and Dean were still asleep. Sam’s tall frame stretched out on the bed parallel to yours and Dean on the worn couch. Satisfied that both boys were still sleeping, you creep slowly towards the door to the room, stopping only to slip on a pair of shoes, not entirely sure if they were even yours, grabbing Dean’s leather jacket from the back of the chair it was thrown on. You pull on Dean’s jacket, while simultaneously opening the room door as you quietly slip out of the room.

You scan the motel parking lot to make sure it is empty, and therefore safe , at least for a while (you were a hunter, after all). Once the parking lot passes your inspection you walk towards the Impala, the lights above the room doors reflecting off the shiny black paint. A shiver runs down your spine as the chill of the night air surrounds you. You pull Dean’s jacket tighter around you, Dean’s lingering scent greeting you as you step up to the car.

“Hey, girl.” You whisper, running a light hand across the hood. “Mind if I sit?” Even though Sam made fun of you for talking to the car, to which Dean always jumped to your defense, pleased that someone else shared a love for the vehicle, you still spoke to it as if it was an old friend. You believed, in a way, it was. After all, you had spent hours in the back seat, listening to Dean’s tapes and discussing cases with Sam. You had even spent your fair share of time in the front seat, because of a fight between the two brothers, where you acted as a middle person or on rare occasions when it was just you, Dean, and the road.

After waiting a moment, in which your tired brain imagines the Impala responding, you slowly slide onto the black hood and lean back on the windshield. Staring at the sky you wish that the city lights were not as bright so you could see the stars clearly.

Time ticked by, your only record of time passing being the number of times the heater in the room next to yours kicks on. Shortly after the small heating unit had started for the third time you hear the unmistakable sound of a room door creaking open. You fly up into a seating position, a hand reaching for where you always kept your gun. Cursing in almost the same breath, you realize that your gun was under your pillow, back in the room.

You relaxed only slightly, seeing that it was Dean. You knew that Dean worried about you and your frequent bouts of insomnia. “Missing out on beauty sleep there Prince Charming.” You tease as Dean comes to stand next to you. His green eyes made a thorough sweep of your body, checking for any sort of physical injury before they return to looking into yours.

The two of you stare at each other for a while before Dean offers you a hand. “Climb in the back Y/N. We’re going to go for a ride.” His deep voice comforts you just as much as the feeling of his hand in yours.

You slid off the hood of the Impala, letting Dean open the back door for you. He places a soft hand on the small of your back as you climb in. A moment later the engine roars to life as Dean fires up the Impala. Dean eases the muscle car out of the parking lot and onto the almost empty highway alongside the motel. It wasn’t more than thirty seconds later that Cas appears in the passenger seat. You bit your lip in surprise, mildly amused when Dean jumps some in his seat.

Cas turns around to look at you. “Still can’t sleep?” He asks, seeming only slightly uninterested.

You shrug. “Not really, I guess.”

Cas turns around and flicks on the radio, Ramblin’ Man floating out of the speakers. You smile, a feeling of nostalgia settling over you. For some reason, this song always reminded you of the Dean you had met all those years ago. Fresh faced, not yet worn out by the long nights, the tough cases or decades in hell, a little more optimistic and not yet knowing of the existence of angels (something that had changed his view on the world). Back to the days when your little band of hunters, that is you, Sam and Dean, were hunting down Wendigos, shape-shifters, and demons, rather than fighting to close the gates of hell. Back to when your biggest worry was whether or not you’d have to sleep on the floor of the next crappy motel room.

It isn’t long until you change your position, opting for laying down in the back rather than sitting up, leaning against the front bench seat. You could hear Dean and Cas talking softly in the front seat, not focusing enough to make out what they were saying, as you shiver against the cold leather of the seat. Shortly after this, you feel someone, almost certainly Cas as you knew Dean was driving, lay something over you.

You realize it is Cas’s trench coat, pulling it tighter to you in hopes of warming up. A calm almost instantly settled over you and you weren’t completely sure whether it was from the low music and dull hum of Dean and Cas’s voices or if it was coming from Cas himself. Either way, you were comfortable with it as you finally felt yourself relaxing for the first time in days.

Just as you started falling into the caress of sleep you hear Dean stiffly ask Cas, “Is Y/N going to be okay?” You realize in that moment that you would try harder at getting back to yourself, even if that meant finding someone to talk to, someone to tell what happened to you, what you went through, as much as you hated the thought.

“Y/N will come through this Dean. We all will.” Cas replies and that is the last thing you hear before you feel the comfort of sleep wash over you.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural fandom #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural reader #spn #spn fanfiction #spn fandom #spn reader insert #dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #impala #castiel

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