Couples Knitting

A/N:For the lovely whelvenwings who’s celebrating a birthday today. Happy birthday, doll! — AU ~3,300k; in which Dean discovers knitting isn’t all that terrible. (Based off of this gross picture.)

"Couples Knitting? Sammy, what the hell is Couples Knitting?”

It’s early Sunday afternoon and Dean’s seated at the bar in Sam’s big ass house with a mouth full of pancakes that Jess made. It’s their tradition, Dean joins the happy couple for free food once a week, and Sam gushes to Dean about his perfect, apple pie life complete with a successful law firm, one beautiful wife, and a baby on the way. It’s the best part of Dean’s week, usually, until things like Couples Knitting are mentioned.

"Keep your voice down, Dean, geez."

"Please tell me it isn’t what I think it is," Dean continues, ignoring Sam’s request. He washes his bite of pancakes down with coffee and stares at his brother expectantly.

"It’s probably exactly what you think it is, Dean. It’s Couples Knitting; me and Jess together, in a class, learning how to knit. She wants to make the baby a blanket before it’s born."

"So you need to learn how to knit why?"

Sam shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know she just wants to do it together; as a married couple, I don’t see anything wrong with Couples Knitting.”

Dean shakes his head and reaches across the counter, pulling a few strips of bacon off of a plate and popping one into his mouth. “That’s the problem, Sammy. You don’t see anything wrong with it. Take my advice, if you want whatever’s left of your manhood to stay intact, you will not go to that class.”

"Right," Sam says with a huff, "Because I should definitely be taking advice from the single guy who’s ‘between partners at the moment’. Maybe you should go to Couples Knitting.”

Dean waves Sam’s comment off with a hand in the air. His life is awesome, thank you very much, he doesn’t need couples anything.

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Seven Minutes in Heaven

A/N: Happy birthday to the ever lovely, poorbeautifuldean! I apologize in advance for the gooey cheesiness that this is. Ew. — DeanCas, college!AU, first kiss ~1k.

Dean thought he left games like Truth or Dare and Seven Minutes in Heaven behind when he graduated high school.

He’s not 18 anymore (19 is worlds different than 18, thank you very much); spends more nights studying than he does going out, yet here he is at a party, tucked in a closet with a guy. And not just any guy, no that would be too easy. Instead, the universe just had to go and give him Castiel Milton, photojournalism major who sits just in front of Dean in Econ 1010.

The very same guy Dean’s been pining over for the last semester.

Anyone else and Dean’s sure he could have dealt with it. Seven minutes of making out with someone he was never going to see again? No problem. Seven minutes of - so far silence - with a one Castiel Milton and Dean’s certain this is his last night on earth because he definitely isn’t going to survive this.

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Career Day

A/N: You survived Monday; have a ficlet! (This was originally written as a bed time story for stormstiel who asked for teacher!Cas and firefighter!Dean. I have since edited it just a smidgen.) — AU; elementary school teacher!Cas and firefighter!Dean. ~1,200k, PG.

When Castiel schedules Career Day for his second grade class, he figures it will be just like any other Career Day he’s had in the past. A few parents will come and talk, some servicemen/women from around town will give short presentations, and the kids will spend all of their time oohing and awwing at all the interesting job opportunities they have to look forward to when they grow up. It’s a day he looks forward to every year because the amount of work that goes into the planning and preparation for the day is minimal at most; and the kids are always excited about it.

It isn’t until a one green-eyed, freckle-faced firefighter comes along that Castiel realizes how unlike any other Career Day this one will be.

The students are at their desks doing individual work and Castiel is flipping through a book order when the classroom door opens and a tall, broad shouldered man enters the room. 

Castiel looks up and over at the stranger, taking in the man’s bowlegged gait and charmingly good looks as he approaches his desk.

“Mr. Novak?” The man asks as Castiel stands. In his head Castiel does a quick inventory of all his student’s parents and quickly determines, this is not a man he’s met before. 

He’d certainly remember that face if he had.

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