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saltnhalo · 5 years

Note

Congrats on 1.5k! In regards to the song prompt, for angst, “I Don’t Mind” by The Greeting Committee, although if you don’t like that one, I also propose “Elise” by The Greeting Committee, it’s very destiel and could lead to some soft sweet moments!

Thank you! I chose “I Don’t Mind,” and was inspired by the lyrics “I heard it snap, it kind of sounded like you’re never coming back.”

“It’s a gift. You keep those.”

Dean sits at the dining table, a glass of whiskey in front of him and the bottle not far away.

Why had he said that? It would have been so easy to just take the mixtape back, now that Cas has listened to all the songs Dean had wanted him to listen to. But he’d insisted that Cas keep it, like it was something special, like it has meaning that it doesn’t.

(It does.)

He knocks the rest of the whiskey back and pours himself another glass, restless frustration burning beneath his skin. He’s already too many shots past driving, though, so there’s no chance of going anywhere, no chance of escaping the thoughts that circle round and round in his head.

“Dean?”

Dean’s head snaps up. His movement knocks the whiskey glass, amber liquid spilling up the side and sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Fuck, how much has he had to drink?

Castiel steps closer to the table. There’s something in his hands, cradled delicately, and as he gets closer, Dean realizes what it is.

That damn fucking mixtape.

“What, Cas?” he bites out, far too harshly but at this point, he’s too drunk to care. There’s fire burning through his veins, and he’s fucking angry. Angry at Cas, angry at the world, angry at himself.

Cas takes a half-step back, his blue eyes wide, a tiny frown of concern creasing his brow. “I—is this a bad time?”

“Just spit it out,” Dean growls, staring him down across the distance between them. He feels agitated, that same agitation that he knows is best released by fighting or fucking, and—well.

Castiel shuffles his feet, then takes a deep breath. “I was researching mixtapes, and the Google told me that… some people show their affection through them. Many films have used them with romantic connotations, and I—I suppose I was just wondering…” He looks down at the mixtape, then meets Dean’s gaze again, hesitant and vulnerable. “Why did you tell me to keep these?”

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it again.

He doesn’t even know where to start processing all of this—all he can hear in his head is the pounding rhythm of:

Cas knows. Cas knows. Cas knows.

But there’s nothing to know. Dean Winchester is a ladies’ man, and if he was making a mixtape for a girl he was interested in then sure, it might be romantic, but this?

It’s not like that. He’s not…

He finishes his glass of whiskey, slams it back down on the wood with more force than he’d intended to, and scrapes his chair back from the table. The agitation in him, the fire, it doesn’t have anywhere to go. Faced with a question like that—one that could tip the balance, if he’d just admit…

Dean Winchester does what Dean Winchester does best, and closes off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls, incredulous. “You came here to ask me why I told you to keep that because, what? You think I wanna get in your pants? Think I’ve got some kind of dumb fucking schoolgirl crush? I don’t know what you angels got up to in Heaven, but I’m straight, Cas. I’m not interested in you, or—or any of that shit.”

The look on Cas’s face.

Fuck, it hurts. But he can’t back down now. Can’t admit, not even to himself.

“But—“ Cas starts, and Dean slams his fist on the table before he can continue.

“Stop, Cas!” he shouts, and his voice cracks but he ignores it, pushes on. “I don’t—I’m not in love with you, or whatever the fuck you think is going on here. That shit there?” He points at the mixtape, and Castiel looks down at it too, as though he’d forgotten he was holding it. “It’s not a love letter. It’s simply because your taste in music fucking sucks, and I’m trying to educate you. That’s all. Are you done with this bullshit now?”

Castiel doesn’t look up.

He’s just as closed off as Dean, now, but in an entirely different way, his shoulders tense and gaze fixed on the mixtape. His knuckles turn white with how hard he’s gripping it, as though he’s barely keeping himself together, and Dean aches.

The silence between them stretches out, still ringing with Dean’s angry, defensive words, and then—

Snap.

Castiel grips each half of the mixtape in his hands, holding it hard enough to break skin, then carefully places the two pieces onto the table. The sound of plastic on wood is deafeningly loud, second only to the sound of Dean’s own blood rushing in his ears.

“I understand,” Castiel says quietly, and he only meets Dean’s gaze for a second, but it’s so full of raw anguish and grief that Dean takes a step back, as though Castiel’s pain is a physical force.

What has he done?

By the time he can process that look, or try and come up with any sort of response, apology, anything—

Cas is already gone.

And Dean is left alone with his whiskey, and with the broken remains of the best chance he’s ever had of admitting how he feels about Cas.

#johnlockshire #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #profoundnet #fic #spn #deancas #angst #mixtape #emma's writing

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angeltiddies · 5 years

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Prompt: For Dean's birthday, Cas Googles "presents for loved ones" and inadvertently follows recommendations for romantic gifts.

Shit. Okay. Hi anon, i forgot how to see inbox notifs and have no clue if u sent this during my drunk promt ask or sober prompt ask but will fill now.

Alright nvm ^^^ that didn’t happen.

I lost this prompt for days after I got drunk and I couldn’t find it in my drafts and alas, finally. Anyways, this was written fully sober, lmao.

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart, 2.2k,

fluff, light angst, post s14. (ao3 link if u want)

It’s January 20th, 4 days out from Dean’s 40th birthday and he still has yet to decide on a gift. It’s his first time, really, buying Dean a birthday gift. Sure, there had been the pack of funny socks he had snagged in passing from the check out at a Gas-N-Sip, but there hadn’t been any thought behind that, no planning, nothing that Castiel thought constituted the socks as a gift. Not really.

Not only that, but there had never really been occasion to purchase a gift for Dean until now. Sam and Castiel had decided that, with the world coming to an end and all, Dean finally deserved a proper birthday party. In years past, he had either insisted on drowning out his birthday’s with booze or insisted on ‘no gifts.’

Castiel isn’t sure why, maybe because the eldest Winchester brother would only feel more indebted to the others around him, or perhaps because he simply didn’t like gifts. Either way, that’s why it became his mission to get the perfect gift for Dean. Something that isn’t a curse, but a comfort.

The time after Mary and Jack had passed away and Chuck opened the gates of hell had been rough for Dean and him. Sam had kept a protective arm’s length between Castiel and Dean, insisting Dean needed time. It hurt to feel their bond being stretched thin as he’d watch Dean across the bunker from the corner of his eye, careful not to step into his space. Castiel had decided to stay in the bunker despite the tension though, Sam insisting they needed all hands on deck as they began on the long road to killing God.

Still, despite their close proximity, and the time they’ve had to heal, he can’t help but feel further from Dean.

Cas remembers when Sam told a story of the time he gave Dean a chocolate bar and some motor oil for Christmas. Apparently, Dean had lit up at the sentiment, but Castiel can’t handle settling for something like that.

Dean deserves something special.

Castiel begins his search on Google using the simplest, most “Dean” search terms he can think of.

Men’s flannels

Not special enough

Classic records

Maybe some time, but still, not good enough.

A new pair of boots

Shoes are always too risky.

Cowboy costume

Halloween maybe, but not for this.

Guns

Dean already has one he trusts.

It’s been nearly two hours browsing Google and Amazon before Castiel has to take a break and let his head loll back with a sigh.

After stretching a bit and standing up to pace the length of the bunker, he finally settles on a Google search that he’s sure will bear fruit.

Gifts to show you care for someone.

Castiel takes his time clicking through the links and scrolling through many of the lists. He nearly gives up when finally, an article entitled, “Gifts to Connect You to the Person You Care About” catches his eye.

Cas smiles at the headline and clicks through the list, cataloging the possibilities away in his mind.

However, all those possible gifts dissipate from his mind as soon as he sees it. It’s perfect, and they have some in stock at the Bed Bath & Beyond an hour and a half away in Nebraska. With that, Cas calls a “Be back later!” into the seemingly empty bunker and heads out to fetch Dean’s gift.

When he finally arrives at the store, he makes his way inside and heads to the sleep section, his eyes lighting up when he sees what he’s looking for on the shelf below a big “As Seen On TV” sticker.

Next to the sticker it reads: “Bed Beats”

Bed Beats are a pair of wristbands and compact speakers that are connected via wifi anywhere in the world. Just slip the wristband on, place the disc speaker underneath your pillow and send a request to your partner through the app. When they slip on their own wristband, the device will relay their heartbeat to your speaker and vice versa. Never feel disconnected again.

Castiel grins, giddy, and picks up the first box on the shelf. It’s exactly what he and Dean need. It’s the perfect way for Cas to watch over Dean without invading his space. It’s anatomical communication without speech. Cas will know when Dean needs help as his heartbeat speeds up, he’ll know when he’s at peace, he’ll know he’s alive.

He also blinks at the bursting yellow sticker that sits on the top left corner of the box that exclaims, “Great for Long Distance Couples!”

They may not be a couple, but with the way that their souls and relationship has grown distant, Castiel decides that’s enough to classify them as ‘long distance.’

As he waits in the line to check out, Cas also grabs a simple card and a tube of discounted, red wrapping paper left over from the holiday season.

When he gets back to his car, he decides it’s best to get everything in order before presenting the gift to Dean. When he finally gets into the heavily taped box, he pulls out one set of the wristband/speaker combos and sets it aside for himself.

Before shrouding the other set in the metallic, red of post-Christmas, 99¢ wrapping paper, he syncs the devices and downloads the app to avoid the hassle of setting it up later.

Then, he writes, with his thigh as a sort of table, in the card with an old pen he found in the console of his truck.

I’m including the instruction booklet in this card (please don’t read until after you open the gift!)

Dean,

I know I’ve made so many mistakes lately, and that perhaps we do not see eye to eye on everything any longer, but this is a chance to connect without having to agree. Just to sleep and not be so alone.

Happy Birthday. I hope you like it.

Yours, Castiel

However, he scribbles out the ‘yours’ as it feels out of place in this letter. With that, he seals the card, and the instructions, into a white envelope with Dean’s name in angelic script printed on the front.

The drive home is pleasant and he can’t help but feel butterflies for the moment he gets to present it to his charge.

The next days pass silently, Castiel with his gift for Dean hidden in his own closet and nearly forgotten amid all the preparations for the party.

Sam was in charge of inviting people and Dean had insisted on being in charge of food and drinks. On the day of the party, Castiel sits off to the side as many of the guests enter, most are hunters he’s never met before, and he can’t help but feel like an outsider as the day of barbequing and reminiscing devolves into pie and drunkenness by nightfall.

He’s glad to see Jody and Claire, but even then, their conversations are stilted, both of them want to speak primarily to Dean, the ‘birthday boy’, while Cas isn’t allowed that luxury.

He sits away from Dean all night, only making contact to say “Happy Birthday, Dean” after he blows out the ‘4’ and ‘0’ candles that someone stuck straight through the latticework on a sweet, cherry pie. Cas smiles as Claire goes up and whispers something to Dean that makes him throw his head back in laughter and begin a lively conversation with her.

That’s when he realizes he’s on the outside looking in.

From where he stands, nursing a finger of whiskey, he can see Alex and Garth discussing the medical anomalies of Lycanthropes, Sam, apocalypse-world-Bobby, Donna and Jody playing some sort of cards-and-drinking game, a few people he doesn’t know attempting beer pong in the war room and even a pair of local hunters musing over the library’s expansive collection.

He’s an outsider like he’s always been with the Winchesters. When he’s not of use, he feels unwelcome. He knows there’s never any ill intent, but even now, when he doesn’t even need his angel mojo, he still doesn’t quite fit. He doesn’t understand half of the banter thrown around the room, he can’t get drunk unless he drinks the entirety of the Men of Letters scotch collection, and he can’t interact with the guests without Dean coming up.

At this, loneliness overtaking him, he decides to retreat to his room to wait the party out.

He sends a nod and a tip of his glass to Sam before motioning that he’s leaving, Sam acknowledges him with a grin, drunk on whiskey and the excitement of the party, and Cas slips out of sight.

Before letting himself rest, he sneaks into Dean’s room to place the card and the gift on his bed.

He decides it’s best that way.

–

Castiel keeps his personal speaker and wristband close to him, beside his phone on his nightstand, hoping that some night it will be of use. He feels the uncertainty drift in and out as each night passes without so much as an acknowledgment of the gift.

A week passes before anything happens. It’s 3 am when Castiel’s ears pick up on the small ‘ding’ that pops out of his phone speakers.

He rolls over and grabs his phone. On the screen sits a notification.

Bed Beats

Dean would like to share his heartbeat. Accept?

Castiel grins into the dark and arranges the speaker underneath his pillow before securing the soft band around his wrist at his pulse point.

With a tentative thumb, he swipes to accept and lays his right ear down onto his pillow to hear Dean. He can hear his heart beating quickly, possibly a nightmare, Cas thinks, and wills his own jittery heart to slow. He has to be the grounding one for Dean, has to be a comfort.

His own heart beats deep like a drum, and soon he can hear Dean’s heart rate slowing to match his own. Soon, they’re in perfect sync with one another. He feels closer to Dean than he has in months and hopes Dean feels the same.

He listens as his charge’s heart rate begins to slow even more, to around 75 beats per minute, he notes, and assumes he’s slipping into sleep.

Castiel, usually one for wandering the bunker after the brothers are asleep, doesn’t dare lift his head from his pillow until Dean ends the connection come morning light.

It continues like this for many weeks, Dean requesting Castiel’s heartbeat in the wee morning hours, disconnecting at sunrise, and going about the days as if nothing has changed.

Nothing’s really changed during the day. They continue to keep their distance. Dean thanks him for making the coffee one Sunday morning and Sam tells Cas, “See, space is all you needed,” his eyes sincere, “It’s healing.” But Sam doesn’t know the reason the healing process has begun to speed up. Cas can tell Dean hasn’t told his brother of the gift, and he prefers it that way. It’s the first thing between them that Sam isn’t clued into since before Mary’s passing. That alone brings him peace.

It’s a Tuesday in early March when everything shifts. Cas is lying on his back in his bed, nerves nearly taking him. Dean almost always pings by 3 am, and now it’s 45 minutes past and he’s trying to keep calm.

A sound makes Castiel’s ears prick up, but this time it’s not a sharp ‘ding,’ it’s the soft sound of knuckles rapping on his door.

Cas, beneath the covers in his most comfortable shirt, one Dean loaned him for the brief period he was human, props himself up on one elbow and quirks his head as the door opens softly, revealing Dean in his doorway.

He’s in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with holes around the seams, and a pair of black briefs, and the “Send Noods” socks Castiel bought him.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Cas” Dean whispers into the darkness as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with care.

Words die on Castiel’s lips and his breath hitches as Dean pads, soft and calm, to his bedside.

He lifts the corner of Castiel’s blankets ever so slightly and looks down into the glint of Castiel’s blue eyes as if asking permission. Castiel gives him a slight nod and holds his breath as Dean lifts the covers further and slips in under them. He positions himself with his head resting on the left side of Castiel’s chest, ear right above his heart and arm draped across him, hand gently thumbing at the soft fabric on Castiel’s right shoulder.

Castiel can feel his own heart rate pick up, it’s swift and uncontrollable and it’s filling his vessel up to the brim with hard thumps. He’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever breathe again when a low thud overcomes his near panic.

As bright as a bell in a void, he hears it, Dean’s heartbeat, drumming from the deep. This time it’s his charge’s heart that’s strong and steadfast and convinces Castiel’s own to join it in slow synchronization.

Castiel takes in a breath and slows his own heart rate. He sees Dean’s eyelids flutter shut and he lets his chin rest in the soft of Dean’s hair, his left hand rubbing slow circles into his back.

“I missed you.”

Dean doesn’t speak, but Castiel can feel the whisper of a smile move on his chest.

As he lets himself drift into peace, thoughts blink in his mind at the pace of his heart.

I fit here. Dean fits here. This is my family. This is who I love. This is home.

____

(Gift based on this!!!)

#deancas #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel ficlet #destiel drabble #angel !!#king !!#prompt fill #asks #johnlockshire #anon #Johnlockshire replies #s14 spoilers #spn s14 spoilers #my fics

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