#destiel ficlet
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Chapter 12 of The Covert Identity, now on AO3................
#supernatural#spn#destiel#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#castiel#deancas#dean winchester#destiel fanfiction#destiel fan art#destiel art#destiel au#destiel fanart#destiel fanfic#destiel fic#destiel fic rec#destiel ficlet#destiel fluff#deancas fanfic#deancas fanart#deancas art#deancas fic
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Dean asks Cas to teach him Enochian.
So Cas teaches him Enochian.
They sit together in the bunker - chairs next to each other, elbow to elbow, books spread out around them, and Dean learns the language of the Angels from his own.
Dean makes quips about Cas being his teacher, and offhandedly asks what he can possibly do to get extra credit.... Cas looks at him with complete and utter incomprehension while Dean has an internal meltdown at how that came out without meaning it to.
Dean's actually very focused when he has a goal - so he studies and he reads and he's genuinely a good student. He practices his pronunciation (which Cas has said 'is fine' but said it with the expression of someone in pain, so he knows it sucks) while he's cooking or in the shower, and Sam remarks more than once how Dean could have gone to college.
Dean still gets frustrated when he can't remember a certain word too many times, or can't wrap his head around a specific turn of phrase, but he also kind of loves it when he says something and Cas smiles with amusement at what he's said. It dawns on him that he's the one speaking strangely in Cas's language now, instead of the other way around.
The first time Dean speaks in almost fluent conversational Enochian he is so proud and pleased but Cas looks like hes going to throw up, and Dean thinks he must have got something wrong again. He doesn't know that Cas is having to physically hold himself back from immediately exiting his vessel and shattering every window in Lebanon with the force of his joy.
#Im so sad I want to read this as a fic does it already exist?? link meeee#destiel#destiel ficlet#deancas#flustered!cas my beloved#pie's projects#spn ficlet#destiel headcanon#destiel fanfiction
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C a s u a l I n t i m a c y is my jam, I have no excuse
(Don’t repost)
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Teeny contextual ficlet below the cut:
“Cas, lay off already,” Dean huffs from the motel bed.
He crosses his bruised arms behind his head and tries to force back a wince of pain as he slings a casual grin.
“We’re in one piece, aren’t we?”
The angel seems dangerously ruffled, and Dean really wants to focus on that like the awesome boyfriend he’s learned to be. The thing is though, Cas is stripped down to his boxers and an old black undershirt in preparation for his shower and it’s more distracting than a train crash. A sexy, sexy train crash.
Okay yeah, he’s probably a bit concussed; maybe Cas is right for chewing him out.
“You have to be more careful,” Cas insists, his voice doing that deliciously growly thing it does (which, again: not the time, Winchester), “I’m not what I used to be, and neither are you.”
“Wow, okay-”
“Whether you like it or not, you’re not getting any younger, and I’m not getting any more useful. On most days I barely have enough Grace to heal your razor nicks.”
A pang of irritation surges at that - because Dean is excellent at grooming, thank you- but instead of clapping back, Dean opts for a far more entertaining option. He reels the angel in by the towel ends draped around his shoulders, and plants a kiss right between his severely pinched eyebrows.
“I’ll be more careful, okay?” is his murmured promise, “I swear on my Old Guy honour.”
“That’s not fair,” Cas complains, though he doesn’t move an inch.
“What?”
“You can’t just distract me when I’m trying to make a point. It’s extremely patronizing.”
Dean chuckles and kisses the wrinkles which pleasantly frame Cas’ eyes, then the speckles of grey at his temples.
“Yeah? Does that mean it’s working?”
“Dean, this is serious.”
The consternation on Cas’ face has only mildly ebbed through the affection, so Dean frames his features with his hands, bumps their foreheads together.
“I know, sweetheart. I hear you.”
Cas nods against him as he stands down, shoulders sinking on a deep exhalation.
“Really. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Alright.”
“But next time, maybe try making your point when you’re not half-naked, speaking of distractions. That’s playing dirty and you know it.”
Finally, Cas’ grave expression breaks into a grin while Dean pulls him all the way down onto the bed.
“You’re ridiculous; I’m wearing clothes,” Cas objects.
He makes himself at home in Dean’s lap, his fingers trailing absently over warm freckled skin. Dean looks up at him with a smirk.
“Yeah well, we’ll see about that.”
#destiel#destiel fanart#destiel fluff#so cheesy I might choke#hunter husbands#destiel ficlet#forehead kisses#domestiel
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Thine Eyes I Love
After Cas returns from the Empty, he realizes that Dean can't seem to look at him. He assumes the worst. Turns out Dean is doing the same.
He is a vestige of a broken God - a discarded toy cast aside by a petulant child who is himself now only a memory.
Nearly the last of his kind. Obsolete.
Yet it's neither the loss of his purpose nor his siblings that leaves him feeling adrift in this tiny hotel room outside of Omaha.
It all comes down to Dean. Maybe it always has. Perhaps the first domino Chuck knocked over was always leading to Dean, and to the emerald light that shines with love for everyone and everything around him.
Except for Cas. Not anymore.
Made a destiel fic based on this post. Making an independent post for reblogging to the side blog.
Source
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and cas has never felt more alive
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The worst part of it all, if you don't take into account the hollowing feeling that threatens to eat you alive from the insides, the fear, paralyzing as anything, of not being able to function properly ever again, the idea of you doing the basics every day, powered by muscle memory alone because you have to eat and you have to breathe in a world that doesn't give a shit about anything and keeps going, it's when you don't even have a body to bury. And how can anyone mourn an angel, anyway?
When Cas died, he took everything that was beautiful and worth living for with him leaving behind only memories of touches, and comfort an protection and the painful realization that sometimes home can, also, be a person. All the things that Dean, damn coward he is, always took for granted.
He finds the house by the lake he (still) dreams of sometimes, one day he's aimlessly driving, alone, always alone those days, when Sam is far away living the life he always wanted for both of them. The construction is sturdy and well-kept despite the obvious state of abandonment. It looks like a nice place to start over again, whatever that means now.
Next to a big tree that still smells of rain Dean buries his jacket, the one with Cas's handprint on it, because he doesn't have anything else and thinks Cas might have liked it. Dean doesn't know how it feelt to be in The Garden of Eden before everything happened, but he wants to thinks it looked a lot like this, to be able to rest under a sky full of stars.
He doesn't notice the tiny flower that appears over Cas's grave at first, because after only a month there there's still a lot to do but once he does he can't simply stop staring at it. It's small and blue and a species he doesn't recognize. Not that he knows a lot about flowers but he's learning. Maybe it doesn't means anything, probably it doesn't means anything, but he prefers to think that Cas's memory, the physical imprint of an angel existence on Earth, has helped to grow a new life. So he starts taking a bit of his time to talk to the tiny flower everyday. Most of the time is nothing of importance, short trips to the nearest town to buy supplies he needs, a new idea he want to implements in the upper floor of the cabin, but some things are small and life-changing on their own, because in the folks in the town have started calling him by his first name, and he has an 'usual' when he appears at the local coffee shop and the old woman that owns the bakery uses him as her guinea pig when she bakes a new pie.
Time goes and the flower grows and the pressure around his chest is less constricting even if it doesn't disappear completely and probably never will but Dean's fine with it. It's a proof that he's still alive and kicking and that Cas, in his own way, changed him too.
One day the flower is gone and there's a familiar silhouette standing in front of the lake. Fifty-years old-knees from a life hunting can hurt like hell when Dean sprints toward a man that can be real or can be just his imagination playing tricks on him but the blue in his eyes when he turns over and call Dean's name in that soft voice of his, looks like the blue of the flower that Dean nurtured with patience and love for months. It looks a lot like happiness. It looks a lot like hope. 🌿
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what if. cas' wings need grooming but he and dean are MAD at each other for some reason or another but he won't turn to sam to do it either and can't do it himself properly so they do it but ANGRILY and despite that dean's touch is still soft (mostly. he tugs at some places making cas leak) and since they've been mad at each other for a while they haven't fucked lately really so this turns out to be a breaking point and dean blows cas on his bed while grabbing his wings and pinning him to the bed and dean's sheets are soaked in cas' oil and they still won't talk after <3
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Thinking about Dean sitting in bed in the bunker with his big headphones on listening to Carrie & Lowell by Sufjan Stevens and letting himself cry cause he misses Cas and wishes that Cas would just stay. Just once. Feeling like he’s done everything to try and get him to stay short of outright asking. Regretting every time he’s pushed him away when he should have asked him to stay instead.
Thinking about Cas driving his truck on a dark road in silence, trying not to think about anything when he feels a distant wash of anguish come over him. A melancholy melody starts playing through his head that he doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. It repeats over and over “all of me wants all of you.”
#ripping my own heart out listening to Sufjan#this is my own fault#but these two longing after one another is my brain worms#all of me wants all of you Sufjan Stevens#sufjan Stevens#destiel drabble#destiel#deancas#casdean#destiel imagine#destiel ficlet#destiel fic#spn#supernatural#Castiel#Dean Winchester
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in the good spn in my head, dean and cas sneak off to cuddle between cases all the time and everyone knows about it and no one says anything.
and i don't mean, like, you know. they're hooking up or together or anything. i mean literally just. hold hands. or lie together. hug each other. simple acts of physical comfort. like that one skrog comic where cas reads the parenting books and offers dean a hug!
i think it'll start out very randomly, very unconscious. maybe somewhere in late s9, after the whole angel army thing and the Ezekiel/Gadreel thing. they're probably just hanging out together, watching a movie or something. and Dean is so tired. he's so so so tired. he just wants to rest, you know? so he doesn't notice when he starts leaning against Cas, and notices even less when he passes out and slides down into his lap. Cas, for his part is both exhilarated and scared by the proceedings so he just kind of sits all still and unmoving, one hand holding dean's shoulder so he doesn't fall on his face when he's the trying to roll over and the other resting very lightly in his hair. cas thinks it's soft. Dean's hair is soft and not rough to touch. that feels like a miracle, somehow.
when they wake up dean is suuuuuper weird about it, but then he also realizes he's slept better than he has in ages. logically, it's because he's got another breathing body in the room with him. that's always been a source of comfort. but at this point, he also knows himself and he knows that the other half of it is because that body is Cas' and his monkey brain curled up in his fantasy world where this was a regular normal occurence. but anyway. yes at first he's like haha lol weird and awkward, but then cas looks at him like 🥺🥺🥺 and dean's spine is literally a pool noodle in general when it comes to cas things so he gives up the ghost.
it's a slow and stilted start, but it escalates very quickly. first they're reluctantly sitting on the couch in the dean cave together in a way their shoulders touch, and dean awkwardly lies on cas' lap all the while his brain is like omg his dick is right there, which, you know, not very helpful. but then cas will stroke his hair or his arm and his brain is static — the good kind— and he slips into sleep so easily. a few months later, they barely think before dean's maneuvering himself against the arm of the couch and cas settles between his legs, his back to dean's chest and they just cuddle all night. Then, they start going out on drives to nowhere. they'll stop at a diner sometimes, or just drive into the middle of nowhere, and then share a beer on Baby's hood wherever they stop. This ritual is sacred to dean (has only ever done it with sam [brother] and cassie [literally so in love])so he feels super nervous the first few times and then, like everything else they've been doing, it becomes habit.
Sometime around the year/year and a half mark, dean has a pretty bad nightmare and cas senses it bc he happens to be in the bunker and he shows up in his room like are you okay??? and Dean's like yeah yeah I'm good and cas is like do you want me to put you to sleep (talking about his grace) but dean's like nods. shakes his head. nods again. and cas is like ??? so dean's just like. just get in bed with me. and take off your coat. cas is confused but again, he is like a greedy lil man, so he gets into bed and holds dean until dean's sleeping, snoring against his collarbone and cas is thinking this is probably what joy is supposed to feel like.
so that becomes a regular thing.
they're essentially dating at this point, but no one says anything and they pretend like they don't have this thing going on (barely) behind the doors. they never talk about it, they never talk to anyone about it. but it's happening. it's like a beehive. they don't want to disturb it bc they know that whatever's behind all this is probably Chaos™ and they really don't have the spoons to deal with all that.
HOWEVER, important to note: everyone who has ever stayed at the bunker has walked in on them all cuddled up at some point or the other (Sam, Kevin, Charlie, Rowena, Mary, Eileen, CLAIRE) and they also don't say anything but this is kind of why everyone knows.
they kiss one(1) time and it's somewhere post-tombstone, pre-empty deal where things are Particularly Bad for all of them, and him and Dean are like. somewhere out in the fields. Dean's kind of drunk but he doesn't worry because Cas can always drive them back. and they're just sort of sitting there watching the sun set or sth. and Dean, seemingly randomly kisses him. it's kind of intense and crazy and Cas kisses him back but that's pretty much it. they don't talk about it that day, and they don't talk about it the days after that and the next time they sneak out, it's all back to normal.
But when Cas seeks out Dean's space, Dean doesn't stop him. Like he'll scoot across the front bench and just mold himself into Dean's side and Dean will drape an arm over his shoulder and they pretend like that's Normal and Doesn't Mean Anything.
Once, when they're in Dean's bed and Dean is holding Cas, he asks him, "don't you ever want more?" and Cas wants to say that he wants everything. he wants every atom that makes up Dean. but he also doesn't want to shatter whatever this fragile thing is. He's content with this too. he also knows that dean's gratitude is twisted and he will fold himself into roles he doesn't want for others. but the thing is, he doesn't fully understand what Dean is asking him. what he's telling him. so all he says is "You're my best friend." that's just as much of a confession. but they're speaking different languages and they still haven't learnt how to translate. dean just sighs, presses a barely there kiss to the back of Cas' neck and goes. "thanks, cas. you're my best friend, too." and that's that.
the deal - jack- Michael, all of it is a blur. all of it happens together. they stop the joyrides after that, finding excuses whenever they do have the time to do something else. movie nights are still sacred, and sometimes dean will let cas in his room when the nightmares are worse, but it's not the same..they're both holding things back — dean, the future he knows he wants now without a doubt but feels like he can't have and cas, the deal that'll kill him because he thinks Dean might want the same things. it's the most fucked up little tragedy.
after the empty takes cas and chuck is gone and they get him back, dean's like. what the fuck. and cas is like it's okay you didn't have to say it back i didn't expect you to and dean is like *I* asked you..before everything. i ASKED you. and cas is like but i don't want you to do it just for me and dean is like WTF DO YOU MEAN JUST FOR YOU i was there the whole time!! i kissed you!! and cas is like YOU WERE UPSET and dean's like we were literally dating!!! you just had to say something!!! and cas is like why didn't YOU say something then and dean is like I DID ASK and they go around in circles for like an hour before they start crying and hugging and dean is like i love you I love you so much i don't know what to do with it and cas is like i didn't know. i didn't know. and then they kiss.
PS: this is also why jack 100% thinks they're together and is very confused when they make the announcement officially because he thought they just didn't kiss in front of him. because like. sometimes moms and dads don't do that! like in tv shows!!!
#hahahah this got away from me but i don't regret it!!!#spn headcanons#destiel ficlet#doe is talking again
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The smell is the first thing he forgets.
Cas always smelled solid, like earth before a thunderstorm. And also sweet, like cinnamon and ginger breads.
Dean doesn't have anything that could remind him of this smell. This time, there's no coat. There's nothing. So he forgets.
The sound of his voice is next.
Dean calls Cas every night till his voicemail is full. Just to hear his grumpy, deep voice. And then he starts forgetting. He tries not to, but he can't stop this. The same way he couldn't stop the Empty.
And then, one day, he wakes up and can't remind himself how Cas looked like. He panics. He remembers what he was wearing. He remembers his blue eyes. But the image of his face is blurry. And he wants to remember. He needs to remember.
The only thing what left him is the old jacket with the bloody handprint on the left shoulder and the words 'I love you' still alive in his head.
inspo
#supernatural#spn#destiel#castiel#dean winchester#deancas#destiel ficlet#destiel fic#my writing#mine
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Dean flirts with a diner waitress one day while him and Sam are working a case (Cas is busy). She gives him a pleasant-customer-service smile until her eyes lock onto his shoulder. She goes pale and backs away and Dean looks at his shoulder like ?????
She tries to make an excuse to leave and bolts out the back door but Dean is Suspicious(TM) and follows her before she can get very far.
She says she's not looking for trouble, she just wants to be left alone, she's made a life for herself here etc etc.
"What are you talking about?" Dean demands, about to reach for his gun.
"You... You’re Dean Winchester." She gestures to his shoulder. "Only Dean Winchester has Castiel's mark and claim on him."
Dean gently touches his shoulder, where the handprint used to be, and he's like, "You're an angel." .......... then he gets his phone out and he's finding Cas's number and slamming the phone to his ear all frowny faced and says to her, "What do you mean, claim? And the mark isn't even there anymore- I- Hey Cas? Cas, there's an angel here who- no I don't know her name- does it matter? Look she says- no don't come here we're fine- she says you left a claim on me with that- y’know that handprint thing and- what do you mean you were going to tell me??? Tell me now-"
And the whole time Dean is getting progressively frownier and his nose is getting redder and he's gripping his shoulder tighter and the angel is watching like, This is the Michael Sword?? This is the Righteous Man??? This is the human Castiel left his mark on?????
#another sleepy lil ficlet#dean should absolutely have accidentally flirted with and angel and theyre like woAH Im not touching Dean Winchester#Castiel's got visibile dibs on that man#destiel#destiel ficlet#my ficlet
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Dean grumbles playfully as the hat is shoved on his head, the elastic band snapping lightly as his family scrambles away to get a photo of him feigning a pout.
Then, strong arms wrap around him, pulling him into the familiar warmth that feels like safety and home.
"Happy birthday, Dean," says Cas, though not for the first time today. That first time was whispered softly upon waking this morning, sunlight streaming in through parted curtains, as they cocooned around each other in their bed.
Dean blushes all the same. A little bashful, a little embarrassed. His cheeks are probably flaming. He's never been one for attention like this. He's never really had birthdays like this, until recently. But he's getting better at all of it. And every day it gets easier to accept that this is really his life, that he gets to have this — love, family, home. Everything he's ever wanted.
"Thanks, Cas," he says softly, dropping any residual reluctance and letting himself smile, glowing cheeks be damned.
The camera clicks and then the rest of his family rushes in for hugs and more pictures.
Today, he's forty-four and life feels good.
♡ Happy birthday, Dean !! You are so loved. #deansbirthdaybash ♡
#deansbirthdaybash#chocolatecakecas#deancas ficlet#destiel ficlet#destiel art#deancas art#dean's bday#myart#myficlets
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Angels are not supposed to feel love.
How could they? Feelings, emotions, all these — these human perks, derive from the soul. They're ingrained into the construction of the core of human lives to make them be worth something, be worth living. Humans are given such a short span of time that they might as well be born dead. Useless, meaningless little lives in which they're meant to suffer and enjoy and cry and laugh and create and destroy.
But angels? No. They were made to serve God, and be almost as lasting and great as He is. Why would they need souls, or feelings? You wouldn't give a computer nor a cellphone these things, they don't need it. They only need to listen, and obey, and feel wrath in the name of their Father and be able to worship His words. Nothing else.
And yet…
And yet.
The first time one of his siblings fell from grace by a human's hand, Castiel felt disgusted. He couldn't understand the how’s and why’s. Some things needed to happen in order to accomplish Heaven's plan. Some wars, deaths, marriages and massacres needed to be done for the Messiah to be born and the Righteous Man to come along right after. They couldn't afford to fail and put the entire existence in danger. Disobedience was always a whim, a sacrilege, and needed to be punished as such.
He captured Raguel and threw her at Michael’s and Anna’s feet. Castiel was the one to take her wings one by one, twisting them, breaking them, making holes in her ethereal body that could never ever be healed. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, twist. And with all your soul, break. And with all your mind, crash.
And meanwhile Castiel crippled her beautiful Archangel wings, Raguel didn't scream, she didn't scream once. All she repeated over and over again, as breathless as the air —
“But how could you not love them?
How could you know them and not love them?”
She was expelled to the Earth right after… abandoned, cursed, torn. Castiel took charge of most of her responsibilities. As a prize, he gathered. He became one of the most valuable soldiers in Heaven. He was one of the best — maybe the best seraph of them all. It wasn't a surprise Michael and Raphael asked him to lead, capture, threaten and fight non-stop. It's what Raguel would've done had she not been foolish enough to fail. Castiel didn't fail. So, in fact, it was a blessing that when the time came to raise the Righteous Man from Hell, Raguel wasn't around to do it, but Castiel was.
Angels are not supposed to feel love, much less fall in love with.
He wrapped his six wings around the maimed soul, and without surprise, Castiel raised him from perdition. No matter how much Dean Winchester screamed and squirmed in his tight grip, no matter how raw his wings were after the little human soul bit and scratched him, Castiel raised him and rebuilt him with hands that weren't his. He'd never seen a soul from close, and obviously never held one. It was more precious than lightning and mountains, greater than the sea. Knowing it a sin, he couldn't resist putting his mark all over it, possessing it for a moment and claiming it as his. He touched it, he saved it, he was the one to do it. Not Michael. He.
As the days went by and Dean Winchester lived his life, Castiel noticed — there wasn't any other soul like his. Even the most noble and caring souls out there didn't shine half as bright and powerful as Dean's in Hell. Destroyed and corrupted, the Righteous Man held in his core more love and pureness than the most innocent human.
He remembered then, while trying to talk to Dean in his real form, the words of his siblings. He hadn't even crossed a word to this man, and there he was, wanting more. More than worship. More than hatred.
How could you not love them?
How could you know them and not love them?
There he was, wanting more.
And here he is now, in the middle of the day standing in the counter of a Gas n’ Sip looking for the first time at Dean Winchester’s face, bright enough to make anyone forget he once was Michael's Sword. How far those days seem — as if Castiel hadn't been alive since the dawn of creation — how far and wrong those days seem, when Cas looked at Dean’s blurry body and all he could see was the corners his brother would have to stretch to fit in, all the fragile skin and bones he rebuilt and Michael would have to bend and break to make room for himself.
Humans are beasts, Castiel said once to Akobel before he perished in their claws. You have either to tame them or use them. Anything else and they'll devour you from the inside out.
Angels are not supposed to feel love.
But Castiel looks at Dean — he looks at his naked raw face, at those eyes and mouth Castiel once held in his fingertips to bring him back to life — and he inhales deeply to quiet down the rabbit pulse of his heart beating between his borrowed ribs. He just looks at him.
And he feels.
#had this idea in the morning#and i NEEDED TO WRITE IT#im a sucker for cas' pov#but in an Angel Way#destiel#destiel fic#destiel fanfic#destiel ficlet#dean winchester#supernatural#castiel#spn#casdean
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They’re on a hunt when it happens. It’s something so innocuous Cas doesn’t think about the action until they’re driving home. They’d pursued their monster-of-the-week and run into another hunter who claimed they were an old friend of John Winchester.
It took too long for them to realise the hunter was the one behind the killings, acting as a go-between, doing some dirty work for Hell. They found themselves cornered in the man’s yard, trapped and backed into a corner with a not-so-friendly looking hunting dog standing between them, and the high fence, their only exit. Cas’ grace was failing, so he was unsure if he could get himself and the Winchester brothers out of the mess unscathed.
Cas knew many things about Dean Winchester, he knew he wasn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty but he also knew any man with a gun in his hand, who found themselves backed into a corner would be tempted to fire. It wasn’t often Dean surprised Cas, but that day he did. He held his hands out in front of himself, open-palmed and moved slowly to greet the animal. Its pinned ears and raised haunches kept Dean several arms lengths away, but they stood facing each other until the animal calmed. When it did, Dean touched the creature softly and ushered both Cas and Sam out. By the look on Sam’s face, Cas understood he’d also been surprised Dean’s plan had worked.
It isn’t until they’ve caught the hunter and driven back to the bunker and Sam had retired to his room that Cas decided to broach the subject.
“How did you know the dog wouldn’t attack you?”
“Call it a hunch,” Dean replied trying to minimise whatever had occurred, letting Cas know he was touching on something important.
Something Dean didn’t want to talk about, was usually the exact thing he needed to talk about. Cas isn’t sure how he manages it, but after a few prolonged glances and a long stretch of silence, Dean speaks.
“It’s a hunting dog, Cas. Course it’s going to attack you if it’s been told to. I know they’re dangerous, I ain’t stupid. But you sit with the thing for a while, show it you can trust it, and maybe it starts to get iffy. Thing doesn’t like to fight, it just does what it’s told. You pet it and confuse the hell out of it. Hunters want the things to be tough, so they never touch ‘em gently. Think it’ll make ‘em soft.” Cas understands. Dean is the dog.
Cas wonders if he’s ever been touched gently. He decides it’s his job to make sure Dean is.
He spots a few scratches and bruises littering Dean’s body from the aftermath of the hunt and pulls him into the kitchen, trying to get a better look at him. He reaches out a hand to heal Dean but the man shrugs him off, making an excuse about not wanting Cas to waste his grace. That won’t do. Cas needs to show Dean that people can be gentle with him.
That’s how the two end up knee to knee at their unconventional version of a dining room table, with Cas helping to cradle a packet of frozen peas to Dean’s face. Cas tentatively strokes a thumb over the underside of Dean’s eyes, along his cheekbones. No one taught Cas how to be gentle, so he’s unsure if he’s doing it right, but from Dean’s stunned silence he thinks perhaps he is.
In the following days, Cas grabs every opportunity he can to touch Dean softly. He shocks Dean speechless as midway through a conversation Cas moves forward and gently brushes a strand of hair to the side, that had fallen into Dean’s eyes. When he needs to move past Dean he places a soft but firm hand in the middle of his back. He even throws a blanket over Dean’s shoulders on a partially cold morning.
When he begins to run out of ways to be gentle he finds another, one that even Cas knows is toeing the line of things he can get away with.
“Night, sunshine. I’m hitting the hay,” Dean grumbles, rising from his seat beside Cas in his ‘Dean Cave’ as the movie they were watching comes to a close.
Cas stands with him before he can talk himself out of it and cautiously, places a kiss to Dean’s cheek. He lets it linger before pulling and mumbles,
“Goodnight, Dean.”
Dean doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. He raises a hand to his cheek, as though to capture the heat of Cas’ lips and stares at him with wide-eyed amazement. And once more Cas sees the same look of frozen and confused horror as the dog. So it was true. Dean wasn’t used to being treated with such fondness. Cas would have to change that.
#I've had a brain worm the past few days#so I'm sharing it with you#destiel#deancas#spn#supernatural#destiel ficlet#destiel drabble#dean winchester#bisexual dean winchester#dean studies#cas#castiel#dean meta#let 'em be soft damn it#spn meta#destiel fluff
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i think. cas should lose his memories again after coming back from the empty like he did in s7. and dean is heartbroken but he takes it slow and he tries to get cas to remember the little things, and when that doesn't happen he just tries to make him comfortable and be a good friend even though it's tearing him apart that cas doesn't remember him, especially after what he said right before he died (which he doesn't bring up with cas because what would be the point? more pain? no thank you). and cas is sorry, he wants to remember, he can see how hurt dean is, and even though he doesn't remember dean he still wants him to be happy. like some part of him knows how important dean is to him, even if he doesn't know why. and they develop a whole new, more tender, more fun relationship. they watch movies together and try to figure out what kinds of movies cas likes. they decorate cas' room. dean teaches cas how to cook (although cas finds that the food always tastes better when dean cooks it). they're both careful not to accidentally do or say anything that could hurt the other, not like they're walking on eggshells exactly, they're just more considerate. until one day dean can't take it, he's particularly tired and he breaks down, says he misses his cas, says it's not fair, cas can't just say something like that and then leave him, and then come back broken. come back not feeling the way he did before. it's just not fair. dean has had to rewrite his entire history with cas in his head with the knowledge that cas loved him, it's changed everything he thought he knew, and now that's gone too. and cas holds him and he says he loves him now. he doesn't remember the way it was before but he loves him now, and he knows it's not enough but it has to be, because that's all he's got to give dean. and dean is still mourning his cas but he loves all versions of cas, and the one in front of him is no different, and they kiss, and with the power of true love's kiss cas gets his memories back the end
#true love's kiss can break any curse we all know that#i may have been watching too much once upon a time#rain posts#destiel#destiel ficlet#spn#supernatural
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chipped coin
1,6k, mature (i guess), early seasons destiel
so jackles and ida @chapeldean reminded me about the whole 'dean in cas' coat' thing and i wrote this in one go.
Dean’s rummaging in the pockets of the trench coat he’s currently borrowing from Cas in chance to find something like, you know, change, like what normal people are carrying with them in their pockets.
Cas appears to be some kind of bird who likes shiny things, because his pockets have everything but the money Dean needs to buy himself a can of soda at 3 am from the vending machine outside of their motel room. Their room.
Jesus, when did it become two rooms and not for Dean and Sam even, but for Dean and Cas, and Sam. Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes they still stay in one room because everything's packed and they don’t have any spare money or a working credit card with them. Except why the fuck Cas even needs to stay with them at night? And sleep in Dean’s bed. He’s a fucking angel, he doesn’t even need sleep.
Not that Dean minds. Not really.
Shiny rocks, a piece of glass (not sharp, thankfully), a cap from a beer Dean likes and tried to give to Cas a few times, some kind of a keychain in the shape of a cat? It’s cute though. Still no money.
Dean’s getting cold because he only slipped into Cas’ coat and currently wears only that, boots, and his batman boxers he managed to win from under Cas who was blissfully zoned out after fucking him into the creaky bed they share today. But once Dean took the coat and put it on, the look on Cas’ face became nothing but predatory. Dean’s sure if he lingered for a bit before leaving - they’d be having round two right now.
Dean’s ass is still sensitive and he still feels, well, Cas’ come leaking out of him a bit. That should really be very gross, Dean’s sure he should feel gross.
He doesn’t and that’s kind of concerning.
He touches the bite mark on his neck and feels his cheeks heating up, even in the chilly parking lot.
Castiel was intense the minute he appeared in Dean’s life, but Dean didn’t really think he would be so into marking him in every way possible. Although, the handprint on his shoulder should have given him some ideas. Dean coughs a little, trying to will his brain to stop translating the direct feed of Cas sucking hickeys on his hips half an hour before.
Right. He’s still thirsty, that was the reason he left the room in the first place. Not to contemplate.
They are just fucking. Just fucking, just sharing a room, just talking for hours about everything and nothing, just grabbing a bite in shitty diners when Cas pops up out of nowhere right when Dean thinks it would be nice to make him try this new weird-looking pie and see that adorable frown make an appearance again, the apocalypse fuckery hanging somewhere in the background for once.
Dean digs faster, in an attempt to overrun his own thoughts. How deep are those pockets? Finally something circle-shaped is in his hands and he brings it to the neon light to the left of him to see what it is.
It’s the coin, a piece of it chipped a little, a tiny hole piercing it close to the ridge.
Dean remembers this coin.
He was boredly playing with all the change he had on him during their pitstop in one of the bars on their way to another state, Cas sitting on the opposite end of a small booth, looking ragged. Rebel angels have tough days.
Dean noticed this coin and said Hey, look. This one is like you. Castiel squinted at the coin and mumbled Useless and broken? Dean huffed and went Not like the others and still kicking.
He placed it in Cas’ hand and said that this one is for good luck. Castiel frowned but took it.
Dean thought he threw it away or lost it a long time ago. But it’s still here. In Dean’s palm again. An angel who wields the destinies of the whole civilisations is carrying a chipped coin for good luck given to him by a hick human.
Suddenly he isn’t really thirsty anymore.
He puts everything back into the pockets and quickly goes back to their room.
Cas is still sprawled on the bed (more and more human things in his arsenal, one day he’ll use this arsenal of adorable/annoying lethal quirks to kill Dean dead), but once Dean closes the door, he sits up and looks at Dean.
Forget the pain in his ass, Dean wants to ride this ruffled creature into the sunset of a better future.
“Dean, I advise you to take the coat off, because I’m not sure I can control myself when you are wearing it and I know you must be tired.”
“Aw, for a possessive bastard you’re such a gentleman.” Dean chuckles and without taking the trench coat off climbs on top of Cas’ naked thighs. “What, afraid you’ll fuck the Righteous Man too good he goes out of commission?”
Castiel growls and tugs Dean closer, crushing their mouths together, hands roaming all over his body as if they were separated for a decade instead of thirty minutes tops.
“It’s just…the more traces of me you have on yourself, the more I…” Cas hides his face in Dean’s shoulder, his movements slowing but not losing intensity, a hand crawling to the handprint, hidden under the coat.
“Tell me.” Dean’s lost all of his brain cells on the way here, he wants to hear how much he breaks Cas’ restraint, he wants to know the moment Cas started thinking of this coat as a part of him, he wants to know whether it’s the first time Cas even feels this way and if so he doesn’t want to share this knowledge with anybody else. Man, they are both possessive as fuck.
“I want to keep you to myself,” Cas whispers, unsure, and Dean moans, slowly grinding into him, starting to pull the coat off his shoulders, but Cas stops his hands. Holy fucking shit.
“You were mine to rebuild, mine to bring back to life, mine to protect,” Cas lifts his gaze to Dean and strokes his jaw. “Now you’re mine to love.”
If Dean ever wondered what the perfect example of “fuck around and find out” looks like in real life - well. He’s experiencing it now.
“Shut up,” he tells Cas because he isn’t ready to start fucking crying during the most mindblowing kinky sex he isn’t even fully having right now.
Cas opens his mouth to argue and probably tell him more insane shit that will rewire Dean’s mindframe forever and ever, so he shuts him up himself with kisses. After they’re finally done making out, Cas, the stubborn bastard, opens his mouth again.
“Was what I said wrong? You asked me to tell you.”
“No, it’s just…” How can he even begin to explain everything that’s happening in his brain right now? That Cas just voiced Dean’s own feelings he’s too afraid to even start rationalizing in his own mind? Let alone talking about them. The thought that Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about doesn’t even cross his mind. He knows they both feel the same and both are greatly inexperienced in just being in love. Cas being an angel, Dean being a hunter and both of them being fuckups.
“You are thinking too much. I don’t require your answer, Dean, that’s not why I said it.” Cas touches his neck, shoulders, stomach, thighs. Feather-light strokes of his long fingers relax Dean gradually. “Just let me take care of you sometimes.”
And Dean lets.
The coat stays on, like a wall, shielding what they have from the rest of the world. Dean imagines that it’s Cas’ wings that envelop him and keep him safe.
They take it slow this time, Dean rocking on top of Cas like he has all the time in the world, Cas’ hands are firm but still gentle, supporting him when he gets tired. He’s so beautiful underneath him, all black unruly hair, dark stubble and eyes only for Dean.
Dean kisses him and kisses and kisses until his lips get numb and scratchy from all the licking and biting.
Cas talks to him, quiet and intimate, and, dammit, Dean ends up crying after all. But he feels so, so much lighter, he feels like there’s light streaming from all the scars on his body.
When they are cleaned up, Dean digs in the pockets of Cas’ coat again, Cas curiously watching from the bed, clad in boxers and Dean's t-shirt. Dean kinda gets why Cas jumped him when he walked in in his trench coat earlier. The t-shirt…is doing things to him too.
He finds the coin again, takes it, threads a thick rope through the tiny hole in it and tugs the ends. Then goes to Cas and motions for him to bow his head.
Cas looks puzzled for a second and then a tiny warm smile spreads on his face when he thumbs the improvised amulet on his neck.
“Just uh. For it not to get lost in your giant ass pockets.” Dean’s scratching his head and fidgeting like a dumbass.
“Thank you Dean,” Cas catches Dean’s restless hands in his and just holds them, “Thank you for taking care of it.”
Thank you for taking care of me.
One day Dean will say it back outloud.
#destiel#destiel fic#destiel ficlet#deancas#deancas fic#deancas ficlet#thisisapaige#spxcekya#becauseofthebowties#usermoogs#anztag#spncreatorsdaily#hashtag writing
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