Forget-Me-Not Blues

Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organisational duties. The more the merrier, right?

Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

Written for DCBB 2014

Picset by the lovely Onja (x)

Ballet AU

A/N: Cross posted from twitter, expanded on a smidgen. This is literaryoblivion‘s fault. – Single dad!Dean, AU, 500 wc, G. 

Let’s think about Dean signing up his little girl for ballet. It’s all she talks about for a month straight, so he finally researches a bunch of studios before finding on that comes highly recommended by everyone and signing her up.

On her first day the studio tells him he can stay and watch or come back for her when she’s finished. He at least wants to meet the teacher, so he walks his baby girl to class where there’s an array of three and four year old’s swathed in pink. 

He doesn’t see the teacher anywhere, but he does spot a man with dark hair standing by the stereo. He’s barefoot, and dressed in loose sweat shorts, and a tank top, so Dean approaches him. 

“Hey,” Dean says, “my daughter’s new here. Do you know where I can meet the teacher?”

The man turns to him, eyes bright blue and face like a freaking angel. “You can meet him right here,” the man says. “I’m the teacher.”

For a moment Dean thinks it’s a joke. Greek gods don’t teach preschool ballet classes. But there’s no trace of laughter in the man’s eyes, only an easy smile that makes Dean melt a little on the inside. 

“Oh,” Dean says, if not breathlessly, and the man extends a hand.

“Mr. C,” he says. “Or Castiel if you prefer.”

Dean swallows hard, doesn’t miss the other man tracking the movement, and reaches blindly for his daughter.

“This is Charlotte,” Dean says, because he has to something, “and I’m Dean.”

The man smiles, with his mouth this time, and crouches to Charlotte’s level. “Hello, little bird.” He says gently, eyes twinkling. 

Charlotte looks up at Dean for reassurance - he’s taught her, dutifully, not to speak to anyone she doesn’t know. (Though he meant when he’s not around, but it’s good to know she’s listened.) - and he nods. 

“Hello,” she says back.

“You look very pretty,” the teacher, Castiel, tells her, and maybe Dean beams a little because he did that perfect bun all himself, thank you very much. “Are you ready to learn ballet?”

Charlotte nods enthusiastically. 

Castiel’s smile deepens. “We’re going to have a lot of fun,” he tells her, and then he’s sending her off to sit with the other girls and standing to meet Dean’s gaze again.

Dean offers him a weak smile, heart pounding and stomach a mess of butterflies. 

“Will you be staying to watch?” Castiel wonders, and Dean nods.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I think I will.”

And he does stay, for the first class and every one after that. And maybe he spends half the time watching Castiel teach, but that’s just to make sure his daughter’s getting a proper ballet education, right?…



“Hey there, Sweetheart.”

Dean Winchester smirks from his place on the sidewalk, approaching the car with an exaggerated swing of his hips. He leans through the open window with a gorgeous smile, voice turning soft and slick like butter as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. A hum sounds from deep in his throat. “Mmm… what can I do you for, Handsome?”

The John blushes. “I want you,” he says breathlessly.

Den practically purrs. “I’m yours, baby.”

“H-How much?”

“For you? Fifty.” Dean licks his lips then, tracing a finger across a shaved jaw. “I’d fuck you for free but a man’s gotta eat.”

This sends the John into a fit of stuttering; nodding and opening his door as he speeds to the nearest empty lot. Dean focuses. FireFearAngerPainHelphelphelpless—SAM. His hands begin to twitch.

Five minutes later, Dean Winchester pulls his fingers away from the man’s temple, warmth fading down to the place inside him where pain bubbles dangerously. The John’s head lolls to the side, knocked out by a pulse of electromagnetic energy. Not enough to kill him, but enough to  make him woozy for the next couple of days. “Nighty-night, Asshole.” The young man’s eyes flash with something dangerous as he reaches for the man’s wallet, emptying it completely but for the picture of the John’s family. Dean glares at the photo and it bursts into sparks of light.

He gets back to his corner with a credit card and twenty dollars. Two more Johns and he can get back to Sammy.

“Tyler Adams?”

Dean turns towards the sound of his fake name, approaching the car and smiling as usual. He touches and strokes the other men as much as possible, quickly forgetting the names Charles Xavier and Hank McCoy. Two’s double, he says, and charges them one hundred. Once he’s in the car, the one called Charles calls him ‘Dean Winchester’.

Dean literally stops the moving vehicle. It’s easy; plucking the kinetic energy from the engine and wheels and gathering it in his palms, hands glowing before he shifts it into two balls of white. “Who the hell are you?”

Dean, calm down. Listen to me, you needn’t be afraid… We merely wish to show you you’re not alone.

Except that voice assuring Dean they mean him no harm? Yeah, that’s in his head. The young man almost blows up the vehicle on instinct… But that’s before he feels like he can’t move and the driver morphs into a hairy, skinnier blue version of the Hulk.

It turns out that Professor Charles Xavier runs a school for gifted people… gifted people like him. Like Sam. It turns out that he can offer the Winchesters a home.

It also turns out that Dean is a suspicious bastard. But, as that’s what’s kept he and Sam alive for so long, he’s thinking it’s probably fine.

Keep reading

so I just heard that it was appleblossomdean’s birthday, and as I once said I would spam you with twink!jensen, I thought, what better day than today! (except it turned into a photoset because they are super fun to make.)
so HAPPY BIRTHDAY ONJA! I hope you like it! (/ ^ ᴗ ^ )/♥

For appleblossomdean because it’s her birthday. Happy Birthday Onja. ♥

They were slow dancing, their flushed cheeks pressed together, Dean’s arms wrapped around Castiel’s neck, and Castiel’s hands resting on Dean’s hips. It felt good, just right. Castiel was fairly sure that he was forgiven, even though he and Jo had planned this surprise party at the Roadhouse behind Dean’s back.

“So… Are you sure that you aren’t mad at me, Dean?” Castiel asked just in case, lips skimming Dean’s ear as he spoke.

“Hmm… Do I look mad to you?” Dean replied, sounding amused as the both of them lazily swayed to the music.

It was getting late, and most of the other guests at the birthday party had either gone home, or were having drinks at the bar while quietly talking. Castiel didn’t mind; he loved it when the two of them were allowed to be in their own little bubble.

“Not really…” Castiel agreed as they kept moving around the makeshift dancefloor. “It’s just that I know how much you loathe surprises, but you don’t turn thirty every day, and we wanted to do something special for you.

Dean chuckled, his thumb lovingly brushing against the dark hair at the nape of Castiel’s neck.

“I’m not complaining, baby.” Dean breathed against Castiel’s temple. “Although I gotta admit… Right now, I want you to take me home so that we can move on to even better things.”

Castiel had to laugh, because that was so typically Dean. “I’m not opposed to that.”

“Good…” Dean whispered into Castiel’s ear.

The song that they’d been dancing to came to an end, but they kept moving anyway.

“One more dance before we go home?” Castiel requested as a new song started playing, now leaning back so that his eyes could find Dean’s.

Dean said nothing, but he nodded, eyes all but glowing, lighting up the dim room.

Castiel sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to Dean again, burying his face against Dean’s shoulder as they continued to sway.

“Thank you… Happy birthday, Dean.”

header art for almaasi’s new fluffy christmas fic: snow place like home (but my home is with you)! go check it out ( ^ ᴗ ^ )