So I kinda accidentally spurred a witch hunt for @wanderingcas the other day because of her taste in candy and I promised to make it up to her. I’m sorry, Sam. Please accept this fluff as an olive branch.

Dean has walked in on Cas doing a lot of weird things. 

Hanging dishes to dry, vacuuming his sheets, cursing at the bread ties, squirting toothpaste directly into his mouth.

Cas was a weird guy with a lot of weird habits, but Dean just rolled with it.

 But eating candy corn is where he draws the line.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing?”

The ex-angel’s head perks up from where he’s curiously leaning over a bowl of old Halloween candy, something orange and white-tipped in his hands.

He lips turn down in a guilty pout. “I thought you said it was okay to eat anything in the candy bowl except for the Snickers.”

Dean hurries to take the offensive triangle of sugar from Cas’s fingers before the man actually puts it in his mouth. “Yeah, Cas, but I didn’t mean you should eat the fucking candy corn.”

“What’s wrong with the candy corn?”Cas asks, eyeing the stolen piece Dean is now holding at arm’s length as if it might self-destruct. 

“It’s gross!”

“Oh, well, I found it quite tasty.”

Dean’s nose screws up and he barely resists gagging. “Oh, Cas, no! Candy corn is literally the lowest tier of candy in the candy hierarchy. No one actually eats this shit.”

Cas does his trademark head tilt. “Then why do they make it?”

“I look like Willie Wonka to you?” Dean scoffs. “I can’t believe you see a huge bowl of candy and you go for the fucking candy corn.”

“I apologize, Dean.”

Dean just shakes his head, figuring they’ll both be better off if they forget this little incident ever happened. “What else have you tried?”

“I’m afraid the candy corn was the first and only candy experience so far.”

“You’ve never had candy before?” Cas gives a little head shake and Dean is immediately lowering himself to the couch. “Oh, dude, you’re missing out. Okay, you gotta try some better stuff. First, the Smarties.”

Dean pulls a roll from the bowl and turns the ends to release a few pills. 

Cas squints at them when Dean drops them in his palm. “Just put them in and chew,” Dean instructs. 

Cas obeys and Dean watches closely as Cas begins to nibble, eyes closing against the sour assault to his tastebuds and Dean can’t help chuckling. 

“Those are not pleasant,” Cas decides when he finishes.

“Okay, so sour is out. Let’s just move straight to the good stuff. Chocolate.” Dean wriggles his brows and begins to open a full-sized Twix. “Okay so this is like a little cookie covered in caramel and chocolate.”

“That sounds good,” Cas says and takes the bar, taking it right to his lips.

“Cas, no!” Dean says, yanking the candy bar away.

Cas’s eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t just shove the whole damn thing in your mouth. Are you an animal?” He takes the wrapper all the way off and snaps the bars apart. “It comes in two for a reason. Here.”

Cas takes the bar Dean offers, a little more hesitant this time, and lifts it to his mouth to take a small, clean bite.

Dean bites into his own, smiling around the caramel at the way Cas squints as he chews and deliberates. It’s cute.

“I like this one,” Cas says at last.

Dean smirks. “Better than candy corn?”

Cas returns the grin, his a little resigned. “Much.”

They try some more, Cas carefully tasting and judging each piece of chocolate.

Butterfingers are okay.

Almond Joys are abomination.

Reese’s are a gift from God. 

Cas is still gushing about the wonders of peanut butter and chocolate when Dean pulls the telltale red wrapping of a KitKat from the bowl. “This is pretty similar to the Twix, but there’s no caramel and the cookie is crispy or whatever. Pretty good.”

Cas has the sense to break the bars in two this time and he bites off half. His frown deepens this time. “This one is not as good.”

Dean’s head snaps back, face disbelieving. “You don’t like KitKats?” 

Cas chews a little more before handing the rest of his candy bar to Dean. “No,” he finalizes. “It’s boring.”

All Dean can do is shake his head with disapproval. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

The couch shifts as Cas’s shoulders are thrown back. “You saw something in me?”

Blood rushes to Dean’s face and can’t bring himself to look at Cas’s face, which seems closer than it had been a minute ago. Much closer.

“I-it’s not, um, y-you- you should try the, ugh, you need to to try a Snickers.”

Dean grabs for the piece of candy, nearly sending the bowl off the table, and tosses it into Cas’s lap. 

Cas is still for a long moment and Dean can feel his stare but he doesn’t look up, just prays and waits for this to pass. And it will pass — they always do.

He hears the crinkling of the wrapper as Cas rips it open and a few seconds later there’s a softened crunch. It’s the only sound between the two of them for almost a full minute and Dean doesn’t breathe.

“I like this one,” Cas says at last, deep voice startling Dean into a sharp inhale. “This is your favorite, correct?”

Dean gives a nod, not trusting himself with words. 

There’s a pause, Cas waiting for Dean to chime in but he can’t. So Cas continues, “It’s very good, Dean, though I’m not sure it surpasses candy corn.”

Dean looks up then because that is the craziest thing Cas has ever said, and he’s about to tell the man off but he catches Cas’s sly smile and he stops.

“Gotcha,” Cas says with a wink and Dean can’t help the laughter that bubbles from his chest.

“Very funny, Cas,” he says, hiding his soft smile in his lap. He gestures to the bowl. “So… which one is your favorite?”

Cas sighs. “I don’t think I’ve tried it yet.”

“What? Cas, you’ve literally eaten every-”

The movement is quick and completely unexpected and for a second Dean doesn’t understand why his lips can’t move. Then he registers the foreign warmth slipping into his mouth, the heady taste of peanuts and chocolate and a hum that makes his brain short circuit.

Then it’s gone and Dean can only blink, a pair of smiling pink lips coming into focus before his gaze flicks up to pools of blue, looking equal parts excited and scared. 

“That one,” Cas says. “That’s my favorite.”

And maybe it’s the sugar, but suddenly Dean is vibrating with energy, like there’s sunlight in his veins, and he launches forward, tackling Cas on a pile of candy wrappers as he tastes his lips for the second time.

“Mine too.”

“I watched you rake leaves,” Castiel says one day.

Dean lifts his head to look at him in bewilderment. He’s seated cross legged on the bed of the motel room he and Sam are staying in, cleaning his guns to pass the time. With Sam gone to the library he’s left alone with Cas, who stands only a few feet from the foot of the bed.

“What?” Dean asks, not sure he heard right.

“At Lisa Braedon’s house,” Cas clarifies, and suddenly it’s like a dam bursting. “You were raking leaves, and I was there, even though you couldn’t see me. I watched you because I-” he breaks off. “I don’t know why. But I did.”

Deans nods quietly and places his gun in front of him, giving his full attention to Castiel. He’s not sure where this is coming from and not sure where it’s going, but Cas speaks as though he’s been holding it in for a long time, so the least he can do is listen.

“When we were in Purgatory, it killed me to be separated from you. I heard your prayers every night, and every night I had to force myself not to fly to you. I thought it would get easier, but it only got harder.” Cas breaks eye contact in favor of staring at his shoes, and closes his eyes. He’s shaking now.

“Do you have any idea,” his voice is quiet and broken. “how hard that was? How much that hurt? To hear the man you raised from Hell reach out to you every night and be unable to go to him?”

Cas opens his eyes. Dean draws in a breath, unaware he had stopped breathing.

“And then when I was under Naomi’s control-” Cas sounds like he’s scarily close to tears, and Dean feels the need to pull him into his arms, to tell him he doesn’t have to say anything he doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t, because Cas has decided he should. “For my training, she… she made me kill copies of you. Thousands of them, Dean. All of them were you.”

In a remarkably human gesture, Cas lifts the heel of his hand to his eye and takes a deep breath. “Every. Single. One of them,” he shakes out.

“At first I begged for her not to make me do it. And then I cried when I realized I had no other choice. I threw up after the first time, and then it took me hundreds of times to stop crying. After that I was just… dead inside.”

Cas is talking a mile a minute at this point, but he stops and finally meets Dean’s eye, dropping his hand to his side. Dean’s heart breaks at the sight of him. He looks so small and sad, and even though Dean knows he’s millions of years old, he looks young. His eyes are wide and scared.

“And-and then-” he cuts himself off, unable to continue. When he speaks he looks right at Dean, and his voice has slowed down and dropped to a whisper.

“I watched you rake leaves.”

Dean is off the bed in an instant, and it only takes him two strides to reach Cas. Then he takes his tear-streaked face in his hands, pulls him forward, and kisses him. Hard.

alright folks, so for the first time in my life, something actually happened to me that would make a good au fanfic prompt, so here it is.

so basically a few months ago my roommates and i were talking about why boys draw dicks all over things. this discussion eventually deteriorated to the point where we were in hysterics laughing about dicks just popping up wherever you least expected them, and so the idea for Hide The Dick was born.

HTD is essentially one of the greatest games ever conceived, or at least it seems that way to us. the rules are simple: someone hides the dick (a cartoon, laminated creation of my virgin roommate who drew from imagination, in case you were wondering) and the others look for it. if you find it, you announce where you’ve found it and then it’s your turn to hide it. we keep a tally of points on the whiteboard in the kitchen. 

as you might imagine, it has been substantially easier just to hide this game from visitors, rather than explain it, so no one knows we’ve been doing this.

well today for some reason the freaking smoke detectors in our building start going off like crazy in all of the apartments. two of my roommates and i had already been waiting around for a plumber anyway, so we called the landlord and she said she’d send someone down.

and send someone she did. 

shortly after the smoke alarms commenced their hellish symphony, we hear a knock at the door, so my friend gets up to open it, and in walks what is possibly THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN ANY OF US HAD EVER SEEN. like, i shit you not, after he left the room one of my roommates looked me dead in the eye and said “i’d be in for a foursome with that, if you guys are down”, like that is how attractive this man was. 

so at this point he’s fixing our smoke alarm and he’s pretty and we’re being a bunch of heart-eyed children, but in fairness we were also almost certain he moonlights as a firefighter when he isn’t working for the smoke detector people, and firefighters can turn even the most reasonable people into goo. after a bit he tells us he thinks he knows what the problem is and he’s just going to replace all the smoke detectors. so he leaves for the hardware store down the road and he says he’ll only be gone for a few minutes.

we, of course, being rational twenty-somethings, used this time to gush about how attractive he was. but anyway, he comes back and swaps out the smoke detectors and suddenly makes his way into the kitchen and he just goes: “you know what, while i’m here, i should actually check the date on your fire extinguisher…” and about halfway through this sentence a few things start to happen simultaneously.

ash, one of my roommates, her eyes just fly open in abject horror. (this is the girl who drew the dick in the first place) and all she manages to get out is “i just want you to know we play this game and w-”

and kelsey (magic-not-realism), my other roommate, turns on her with this horrified expression, mixed with like utter defeat and she doesn’t have to say a word but we all know her brain is just going “you fucking didn’t!!!!”

so i turn around just in time to see this random, innocent firefighter hold up the fire extinguisher with the dick taped to the back. 

that’s it, that’s the prompt. (i mean more happened, but it feels more fun to leave it unspecific). if you ever turn this into something (particularly of the destiel variety) please send it to me!

quick fic #15

because i’m in love with this text post and wanted it in fic form.

“You’re being homophobic, Dean.”

Dean sends his brother an indignant look as the movie plays in the background.  “What?  All I said is that they have no chemistry!  I don’t care that they’re both dudes!”

The purse of Sam’s lip says he’s unconvinced, but he says nothing, just jacks up the volume on his laptop.

Dean rolls his eyes.  He settles back into his high-backed chair and fixes his eyes on the screen.  It’s an indie movie, highbrow and cast wholly in some sort of sepia filter.  If Dean’s being honest, most of it flies over his head, but he’s making an effort to spend time with Sam now that he’s rid of the mark, and if watching two dudes make out on the screen is a way to do that, well then.  Dean’s going to do that.  

He pretends not to be too invested in the leading man’s kissing technique.  It must work too well, because soon Sam is sighing and saying, “Dude, does it really bother you that much?  Your face is all - judgey.”

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but doesn’t find it in himself to correct Sam by saying that no, he wasn’t judging the gay relationship; he was judging the way the dude thrust his tongue into the other dude’s mouth like some sort of parasitic eel.

So he’s prepared to give up, to admit that maybe watching highbrow indie movies with Sam isn’t the best way to bond - 

But then Cas walks in, looking grumpy about something - the coffee machine probably konked out again - and Dean gets an idea.  He licks his lips.  “Okay, Sammy,” he says, taking a deep breath.  “You want to see how much it doesn’t bother me?”

Sam squints his eyes in confusion.  “…Okay?” he says, after some hesitation.

Dean grips the arms of his chair, his eyes raking down Cas’s figure as the man moves closer.  Under his breath, he says, “Dare me to kiss Cas?”

Sam reels back.  “What?  No, that’s not what - “

But Dean’s already standing, waiting for Cas to join them.  “Can’t believe you’re making me do this, man,” he says.  

“I’m not, though - ?”

But Dean’s hand is already reaching for Cas’s tie, just within his reach.  He pulls on the fabric, tilting his head, and plants his lips on Cas’s. 

Cas inhales sharply before making a low, rough noise like he’s found something better than coffee.  After a moment’s hesitation, he lifts a hand to drag over Dean’s jaw as he begins to kiss back firmly.  Dean’s arms wind around his waist.

When they pull away, Cas’s eyes are shining, if a little wary.  “What was that for?” he says, voice hoarse.

Dean shrugs.  He’s staring at Cas’s lips.  “Sam dared me to,” he says.

Sam splutters indignantly. “Did not!”

Cas ignores him.  He pushes forward to land a soft kiss on Dean’s bottom lip before tentatively asking, “Did you mean it?”

“Hell, yeah, I meant it,” Dean says at once, pulling Cas tighter to him.  He whispers something in his ear that makes Cas blush to the tips of his ears.

Sam’s face is contorted in disgust.  “I heard that!  Will you at least, I dunno…” - he shields his eyes - “Leave the room or something?”

Dean glares at him.  “You’re the one who dared me to kiss him.”

I did not dare you to kiss him!”

He’s ignored, not for the last time that night.

I read about the de-aged!Dean episode and got excited

“So, if you’re Sam,” Dean folded his arms, scrutinising his younger brother who was now twice the size of him, “Where’s dad?”

Sighing, Sam averted his gaze, running a hand through his long hair before he looked back at Dean. It had taken ten minutes for Sam to make Dean believe that he was, in fact, Sam. The concept was a struggle for fourteen year old Dean, who knew Sam as a snot nosed, little kid who followed him around like a puppy. The guy towering above him, with way too long hair, wide shoulders, and a freaking giant- the idea of him being Sam was downright weird.

“Uh,” Sam swallowed, “He’s not here at the moment. On a hunt,” he offered with a weak smile.

“Okay,” Dean shrugged, finding that plausible. In 2014, Dean and Sam were old enough to do shit without John watching over them. Still, it kind of sucked that Dean was stuck with an older Sam who he hardly recognised; at least with his father, he would look more like the man he knew from his time frame.

“I’m-” Sam took a step back, looking freaked out by the situation, “I’m gonna call Cas.”

“Who the fuck is Cas?” Dean retorted.

Keep reading

quick fic #5

They get stuck in traffic after they drop off Sam.  Castiel doesn’t know exactly where they are, nor does he completely understand the intricacies of traffic jams, but he does know that most people stuck in unmoving traffic for what could potentially be hours tend to become very frustrated very fast.

Which is why Cas is staring at Dean, who’s bobbing his head to the music and playing imaginary drums.  

“You’re in good spirits,” he observes.

Dean waggles his eyebrows as he delivers a drum solo. “Yup,” he says, his lips smacking on the ‘p.’


Dean just grins.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re stuck in traffic.  That man in the car beside us has been yelling obscenities and honking his horn for the past half hour.  It is also extremely warm.  I understand that this isn’t a particularly pleasant experience.”

Dean wraps up his song by dropping his imaginary drum sticks in midair.  “Well,” he says, after he’s turned down the radio, “I’m happy.”

“Oh,” Cas says.  He finds himself smiling.  “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Dean gives him a long look.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  You know.  I mean - Sam’s back there - “ - he thrusts a thumb behind them - “going to fancy lawyer school again and completing his transformation into the biggest fucking nerd the world has ever seen, and - and I’m with my best friend, who’s healthy.  And happy.”


“Yeah, dumbass.  You.”  Dean’s voice is affectionate.  Cas revels in the warmth.

A comfortable silence falls.  Dean doesn’t turn the radio back on.  The man in the car to Dean’s left keeps honking.

Eventually, Cas asks, “Are we going back to the bunker?”

Dean looks at him, eagerness suddenly lighting up his face.  “I dunno.  Are we?  What do you wanna do?  I mean, we’ve got the whole world to explore.”  His face falls a little bit.  “Well, we’ve got the whole continental US anyway.”

Cas thinks about it.  Dean inches the car forward.  

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean says after a short pause, more quietly.  “We’ve got no cases lined up.  Our bags are in the trunk.  We could do whatever you want.”


“Anything, bud.”

Cas smiles, a little sadly.  “I just want to be with you, Dean,” he says honestly.  He thinks it might be possible now, with no apocalypse on the horizon, with no little brothers’ opinions to be scared of.  He wants it - but Dean has to want it too.  “What do you want?”

Dean’s mouth has fallen slightly open.  He stares at Cas, and only breaks his gaze when the car behind them honks.  He drives forward, swallowing visibly in the silence that follows.  When he’s driven as far forward as he can, he puts the car in park very slowly.  Then he turns his head to look at Cas.  He clears his throat.  “I -uh.  I want the same.”  Slowly, he reaches up to touch Cas’s cheek with the tips of his fingers.  They skate over his jaw before clutching the back of Cas’s neck.  “Seriously.  Anywhere you go, Cas.  I’m with you.”  He smiles shakily.

Cas’s own lips start to tremble, but he can’t prevent himself from smiling.  “Even outside the continental US?” he teases, voice rough.

There’s no hesitation.  “Anywhere, for you.”

Cas kisses him.  Dean’s hesitation is gone.  He kisses back with eagerness, even pulling back once to laugh.  

“I mean it,” he says, grinning against Cas’s lips.  “I’d get on a thousand planes for you, Cas.”  He draws back and searches Cas’s eyes.  “So what’s it gonna be?  Barcelona?  Rome?  Fuck.  Guam?  I don’t care.”

Cas shakes his head, drawing Dean back in and kissing him once, open-mouthed, before saying, “The bunker.” 

Dean laughs.  “Home?”


He wakes up in a familiar room. Not his. Because he doesn’t have one.

He blinks and sits up. Draped across a chair in the corner is his trench coat. He tries to get up, but his body won’t let him. Instead, he groans and slumps back against the headboard.

“Oh, hey, you’re up,” Dean mutters as he strides across his own room in the bunker and sets a glass of water on the nightstand beside Cas.

Cas looks up at him and silently asks the hunter how long he’s been unconscious.

“Been out three days,” Dean sits himself at the end of the bed, replying to Cas’ nonverbal question.

“He’s back in the cage. Crowley sent his demons to find Rowena in purgatory. She got out and did a spell and bam! Don’t think she was too happy with Lucifer killing her.”

Still not willing to speak, Cas reaches for the glass of water. He lowers his eyes and takes a sip, mulling over the taste of particles.

“Didn’t know if you would make it.” Dean suddenly sits up straighter. “Rowena didn’t know what would happen to you. But we had to take the risk.”

Cas can feel Dean scoot a little closer. “Had to get you back.”

Cas places the glass of water back beside him and squirms as much as he can to be as far away from Dean as possible.

He’s embarrassed. Instead of helping to defeat Amara, the only thing he did was distract the Winchesters even more and set another evil in the world.

He recalls Ambriel’s words. Expendable. He was definitely expendable. With him around, he only got in the way.

He finally looks up at Dean. And he’s decided. He needs to go. He needs to return to heaven and stay there. At the very least. He shouldn’t touch humanity again. Dean and Sam will figure out a way to defeat the Darkness and carry on. They would. They’re the heroes.

“Don’t,” Dean croaks out. Adamantly. “Don’t even think about about leaving.”

Cas isn’t exactly sure how or when Dean started to understand him without having to say anything; it never used to be like this. Dean rarely understood his motives in the past.

He’s so busy pondering this, he doesn’t notice that Dean is sitting at the end of the nightstand, and not the bed, by this point.


He looks up at Dean again with Jimmy Novak’s blue eyes.

“You’re needed. We need you. Always,” Dean shrugs, and Cas can tell that he’s going to try to lighten the mood. “Who’s going to be our wingman?”

Cas frowns. Dean knows that his wings are in tatters and that they’re barely useful. Was he trying to him feel worse?

“Not like that, Cas. I mean, who’s going to save our asses when we need it? And don’t say Crowley. As much as he’s useful, I can’t ever trust him.”

Dean nudges his blanket-covered thighs. “Stay, okay. Just stay. I need you. I always need you.”

Cas doesn’t realize how much he needed those words. Dean had never asked him to stay before. Everyone kept telling him to go.

So overcome with gratitude, Cas does the only thing he can. He flings his arms around Dean’s neck.

Dean’s arms come up and tighten around him. “I need you more than you know, Cas. I’m sorry you didn’t know, but I do. I need you to stay. Please.”

Cas shoves his head into the crook of Dean’s neck and breathes in. Because for the first time in a long time, Dean makes him feel like he’s home. That he has a home.

He nods aggressively, hoping that Dean can feel how much he wants it.


Dean being entirely overwhelmed after their wedding and Cas can’t help but enjoy the sight of it.

“We’re married.”

Cas sighs as his boyfr- no, husband, repeats those words for the eighth time in a minute.

“Yes, Dean.”

“We’re married, Cas.”

“Yes, Dean.”

They’re in a rusty cab, on their way to the hotel they’re staying at for the night before they go for their honeymoon, because who the hell needed a shiny, black limousine anyway?

“I mean, I can’t believe we went through that. Crap, we’re married!” Dean chimes at the top of his lungs, with a bright beam spread on his lips.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says once again with a smaller smile, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least twice as happy as Dean was.

“Hey, driver, we’re married!” Dean calls out happily.

A rough chuckle escapes from the front seat. “I can see that. Congratulations.”

“Thank you!” Dean replies.

“So, where you two headed for the honeymoon?” the driver questions.

Dean opens his mouth again to answer, doofy grin still plastered on, but Cas beats him to it. “Uh- The Maldives. My husband here likes the beach.”

“Hell yes, your husband does. And so do you,” Dean adds.

Cas just stares at him fondly and kisses him after that.

Can you imagine Dean taking Cas to capture fireflies 

Like Cas knows all about the insect of course. He was there when God made them. But they still fascinate him as he stares out the passenger window, hundreds of green dots flashing in the expanse of fields Dean is speeding past on their way back from a hunt.

He knows it’s a human custom for children to try to capture them and he asks Dean if he and Sam ever did. Dean scoffs for a second like its the most random question Cas has ever asked (it’s definitely not) but tells Cas about how sometimes he and Sam would stay at Bobby’s and they’d run around the yard at dusk trying to capture as many fireflies as possible before being called in for bed and the memory brings a gentle smile to the hunter’s face that Cas wants to seal in a jar to save forever.

Instead Cas remarks on how fun that must have been and Dean shrugs. They fall into a silence, Dean watching the road and Cas studying the pattern of illumination outside the window.

Then suddenly Dean is pulling off onto a gravel side row. He drives about a mile down until he’s sure no one else will be coming their way and he turns the car off. Cas is asking what he’s doing but Dean doesn’t answer and gets out of the car to start digging through the trunk. Cas opens his own door and as he straightens Dean cheers and comes around the Impala with a clear jar in his hand. He offers it to Cas. He tilts his head toward the field. “Go try it.”

Cas is hesitant at first, slowly taking the jar from Dean and taking a step toward the tall grass. He can hear the swarm of the insects, can feel their buzzing as the hot summer air settles over his skin thick and wet. He’s already sweating. He can feel a bead forming at his hairline, ready to trickle down the side of his face but he ignores it to lift his hand and gently intercept the path of a fly. He brings it to his face and carefully opens his hand.

He stares in wonderment as the insect crawls along the lines of his palms, studies its tiny red head and the shape of its wings. And then he gasps as it lights up, illuminating the enclosure of his hand bright green for a short moment. Cas flattens his palm and smiles as the firefly wanders to the tip of his finger and flutters its wings and is gone.

“You’re supposed to put them in the jar, Cas,” Dean calls from where he leans against the Impala.

But Cas doesn’t want to capture them. 

He just wants to exist amongst the stars again.

He drops the jar and lifts his arms. 

His skin is glistening with sweat now. His clothes feel damp. He feels the give of his shoes in the soft ground and the sway of the grass against his calves. But as Cas looks out at the thousands of lights above him, buzzing around his outreached hands, Castiel is not in a field in the middle of Kansas. 

He’s flying. 

A hesitant hand presses into his shoulder and Cas turns with a smile, gazing into two shimmering green eyes that put the fireflies to shame. Dean is smiling too and he’s so close Cas is struck with the nostalgic sensation he would get when forming supernovas with his fingertips. 

He feels the pull and lets gravity take control, leaning into Dean until their smiles touch and it’s like Cas can feel his grace again, pulsing through his veins and straining against his being.

Their first kiss is so gentle but Cas feels fierce power like nothing he’s ever possessed. One of Dean’s hands comes up to cup his face, his fingers shivering along Cas’s cheekbone and Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, not willing to ever let this go.

He forgets about the field, about the fireflies.

He doesn’t need them to feel the stars.

He holds the entire universe in his arms.

Prompt from the lovely rachesduncan: Cas gets really into knitting or crocheting and he starts making cosies for everything in the bunker. Dean and Sam both find it really weird (although Dean secretly thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world)

read it here on AO3

Click click click click. Dean ground his teeth together, and cast a furious glance towards the corner of the library.

Click click click click. He caught Sam’s eye; his brother rolled his eyes, looking equally annoyed.

Click click click – pause. Dean looked up hopefully. Perhaps Cas was done for toda–

Click click.

“Dammit, Cas!”

Over in the corner of the room, Cas put down his knitting needles with the air of one readying himself for a fight.

Keep reading

So there was a discussion yesterday about ace!cas (and how great it is) and how I really wanted to write a long!fic of it in the future. But then last night the idea was still swimming in my head, so I’ve wrote a ficlet to wet my appetite until I have the chance to write a longer fic. Enjoy!

It had been hours. Well, it had probably only been a few minutes, if that, but it felt like hours to Dean. Stuck in what felt like a time freeze, they both stared intently at one another, Cas fiddling with the sleeve of his ugly, oversized sweater, as Dean waited for what he now realised to be an inevitable no.

“You don’t want to date me,” Castiel finally spoke, eyes wide and throat clicking.

“Er,” Dean chuckled awkwardly, “Pretty sure I do, else I wouldn’t have asked.”

The reply didn’t seem to appease Cas, who merely shook his head and kept his distance, “You may think that you do, but you don’t.”

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anonymous asked:

prompt: A witch takes Dean's ability to speak or write in English and then runs off. They need information from Dean to track her down and get his voice back.

Dean slams the bunker door loud enough to wake his brother, who comes sliding in with a gun in his hand a quick minute later.

Seeing Dean, he drops it and sighs.  “Dean.  What the hell, man.”

He turns back around, presumably to go to bed.  

Frustrated, Dean stomps on the floor twice.

Sam stops, confused.  He turns and raises an eyebrow at Dean.  “Any particular reason you’re feeling destructive tonight?”

Dean gestures at his throat and opens his mouth.  “I can’t talk!” he mouths.

“You lost your voice?” Sam asks, looking bewildered.  “What were you doing out th - you know what?  I don’t wanna know.”

Dean rolls his eyes and scrambles to the nearest table, where a pen and a pad of paper rest.  He picks it up and begins writing.  Satisfied, he shows Sam.

But Sam just squints.  “Those are literally just loops and squiggles, Dean.  Are you okay?”

Dean looks again at the pad of paper.  What he wrote really is just loops and squiggles.  He tries again.  I’ve been cursed by a witch, is what he tries to write, but what comes out of the pen instead is a fucked up version of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

He drops the pen and paper, putting his head in his hands.  Luckily, by this time Sam has caught on.

“You ran into someone evil?” he guesses, and at Dean’s eager nod, he asks, “Someone who took away your voice and your ability to write?”

Dean nods again.  Finally!

“Dean?  Sam?  What’s wrong?”  Cas wanders in, looking alarmed.  “I heard loud bangs and noises a minute ago; it was louder even than the show I was watching.”

“Dean lost his voice and his ability to write,” Sam says tiredly.  “Think he ran into someone while he was out.”

“Crowley?” Cas asked, immediately ready to mobilize.  “Should I track him down and - “

“Let’s see what Dean has to say first,” Sam says, raising a hand to calm Cas’s ire.  

Dean nods.  He mimes sitting at a bar and knocking back shots.

“You were at a bar drinking,” Cas says, not sounding particularly happy about it.

Dean gets up and pretends to be the lady who approached him.  He bats his eyelashes and plays with invisible Dean’s collar.

“A woman was hitting on you,” Cas says, and if possible, he sounds even surlier.  

Dean pretends to be himself again and shakes his head at the imaginary woman, raising his hand as if to ward off further advances and mouthing something.  Then he pretends to be the woman cursing him, spreading a hand against imaginary Dean’s chest and pushing hard against it.

“So a woman hit on you and you rejected her,” Sam summarized.  “And she cursed you for that.”

Dean sighs silently, lowering himself onto a chair and looking frustrated.

“Why did you reject her?” Sam asks, sounding curious.

Dean glares.  He doesn’t need words to say exactly what his face is saying: “Doesn’t matter, Sammy.  Drop it.”

But Sam is undeterred.  “Dean, you may not be her only victim.  We need to know why you rejected her because it may be one of the links between you and our other hypothetical victims.  Maybe she only curses people who reject her because she’s ugly - who knows?  We just need to be thorough.”

An uncomfortable minute passes.  Dean just stares at Sam, then stares at his shoes.  Finally, he sighs again, defeated.  What Sam said makes sense - and he’d be a piece of shit hunter if he let this witch take away the voices of other poor SOBs without giving his damnedest in this investigation.  

He gets up and walks straight up to Cas, who looks more bewildered with every step Dean takes toward him.  

“Dean?” he asks, slightly panicked, as Dean tries to smile gently.  It probably comes out more like a wince.

He cups Cas’s jaw, who goes still underneath his hand, eyes wide.  Dean touches Cas’s bottom lip with his thumb, feeling out his reaction.  When the only thing Cas does is turn red, he replaces his thumb with his own lips, kissing Cas slowly like he’d been imagining, refill after refill, on that barstool.

When he draws back, he knows he’s gone all soft and doe-eyed, but he’s too preoccupied with Cas, who just stares and stares and stares as if he’s the one without a voice.

Sam is the first to recover.  He clears his throat.  “So.  Uhm.  You told her you had feelings for someone else, I take it?”

Dean nods, smiling encouragingly at Cas, who bites his lower lip and flushes even redder.  Then he’s swaying forward into Dean’s space and kissing him harder, clutching at Dean’s jacket.

Vaguely, past the low moan Cas emits, Dean hears a sigh.  “I’m gonna go and try to find other victims,” Sam says morosely, like he doesn’t expect Dean or Cas to react.  They don’t.  He grabs his keys and jacket and starts climbing the staircase to the bunker’s exit. “Right, you two, don’t wait up,” he says dryly.  They don’t.  In fact, they go straight to bed.

prompt by thatweirdgirljess: quarterback!Dean being in love with headcheerleader!Castiel since freshman year. Cas being afraid of just being one of Dean’s flings and repeatedly turning Dean down, until the day Dean is tackled pretty badly and kinda just lays on the ground not moving… Cas abandons his team and runs out onto the field to check on him

Castiel was in the middle of telling his squad that they had to perform to their best today and ignore the rival cheerleading team that were being petty and trying to goad them, when Dean came into his eye line, standing there on the edge of the crowd waiting for Cas to finish. As always, especially before a big game, Dean had a cocky smile on his face, hands in his jacket pockets as he winked over at Castiel.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes back at him, Castiel finished off his speech, hoping that it would give out some motivation. By the bored looks on the other cheerleaders’ faces, Castiel kind of doubted it. Though he was the head cheerleader, many people always felt the need to unhelpfully tell Castiel that he didn’t, in fact, have much ‘cheer’ in him. Castiel could only assume that he’d gotten the role for his leadership skills more than anything else, though he often second guessed himself there too.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him with a grin when Castiel took the few steps towards him.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel smiled, fiddling with his cheerleading jacket, a nervous habit he always seemed to pick up when he was near Dean, much to Cas’ annoyance, “So,” he ran a hand through his messy hair, “It’s the big game.”

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Ol' Blue Eyes

Dean is a painter, both the artistic kind and the kind that paints houses, he only really makes money doing the latter, but what can you do. He meets Castiel one day when he literally turns his world upside down. Castiel, this passionate professor of comparative literature at the local university who nearly walks right into Dean’s ladder while walking with his nose in a book. Dean luckily hears the guy coming, he’s muttering to himself and he kinda scuffs his feet while he walks, and shouts at him to watch out. It’s too little too late and they both end up on the ground, Dean on top of Cas, the can of paint- “White on White,” Dean recalls- upended on Dean’s head and splattered all over Castiel’s clothes and, most tragically, his book. 

He apologizes profusely to Dean who shrugs it off- “Hazard of the job, what can you do?”- and helps Castiel to his feet. Castiel smiles sheepishly all while cradling his tarnished book. Dean offers to make it up to him, politely disregarding Castiel’s complaints that it was completely his own fault, and asks Castiel to lunch the following day at a little book shop cafe that they both coincidentally frequent with the promise that he will purchase Castiel a new book. 

The date- though Dean swears to his brother, Sam, that it’s no such thing- goes off without a hitch. The conversation goes smoothly and Cas accepts the new book with only a little protest. It’s at that small little table in the coffee shop, the surface stained with the evidence of a coaster-less establishment and the leg that’s a little too short so the table wobbles every now and then, that Dean notices the color of Cas’ eyes. They’re blue, but he can’t figure out what blue. He cycles through the paint chips in his mind, he’s memorized them all, trying to find the best one. At the end of their meal, Dean gives Cas a hug and, trying one of the paint chip names on for size, says, “See you later, Ol’ Blue Eyes.” Cas’ face screws up in confusion, but Dean laughs and walks away. 

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“Oh, come on,“ Dean groaned, slumping back against the couch with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "This movie officially made no sense. Who picked this one again?”

Sam gritted his teeth and grabbed the remote.

“If Cas is going to get a cultural education, he can’t just watch Die Hard, Dean,” Sam said, stopping the movie and ejecting the DVD.

“But Disney?” Dean asked, like the movie had personally offended him. Sam sighed and shook his head, hunting for the DVD case.

“I liked it,” Cas said mildly, picking at his popcorn. Dean rounded on him, incredulous.

“You liked it?” Dean echoed. “It was watered-down junk for little kids and that ending-” Dean shook his head again.

“While the movie did bear little resemblance to the original Greek myths, it was nonetheless entertaining,” Cas said, shrugging one shoulder, a habit he’d picked up from Dean since he Fell for good. Cas looked down at his nearly empty bowl of popcorn. “And I don’t see what was so offensive about the ending. That’s how Disney movies usually end, isn’t it? With a ‘happily ever after’?”

“Still made no sense,” Dean muttered, glaring at the now-dark TV like it had done him an injury. Sam scowled as he shelved the (now boxed) DVD back on the bookcase.

“It’s just a movie-” Sam started, exasperated, but Cas cut in.

“How did the ending not make sense?” he asked, eyes narrowed. Dean made a vague gesture to indicate the TV and perhaps all movies in general and Disney in particular, an almost angry look on his face.

“We’re supposed to believe that he worked this whole time to get back to Olympus or whatever, and then right when he gets everything he’s ever wanted, he just gives it up? Immortality, power, his home, all that and he just…” Dean waved his hand again dismissively. “Sorry, not buying it.”

“Why not?” Cas asked sharply. Sam looked between his brother and the former angel, feeling the tension in the room suddenly skyrocket.

“Because it’s stupid,” Dean snapped. He looked away from Cas and ran a hand over his face. “He had everything and he fucking throws it away for the first chick he met.”

“He was in love,” Cas shot back, actually glaring at Dean. “Considering what he stood to gain, I don’t think he felt like he threw anything of value away.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, hoping to somehow diffuse the tension, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Part of him held his breath, hoping that for once Dean and Cas just listened to each other.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Dean said. He crossed his arms and glared fiercely back at Cas. “You don’t think he’s going to resent the shit out of her for it later? Once he realizes that she wasn’t worth it? Oh sure, maybe he doesn’t now, but one year down the road? Five?” Dean huffed a bitter laugh and shook his head. “He’s going to realize what he gave up and wonder why he ever thought-”

“He won’t,” Cas said, voice low and furious. “Because to him, she is worth it. Even though-” Cas’s voice caught for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Even if she didn’t return his feelings, he would have made the same choice.”

Cas’s words fell heavily in the air between them, landing with an almost audible thud. Sam knew they weren’t talking about the movie anymore and, from the look on Dean’s face, he knew that Dean knew it too.

The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. Sam bit his tongue, knowing he couldn’t be the one to break it, not if he wanted the simmering tension in the bunker to finally boil over.

At long last, Dean swallowed thickly.

“And ten years from now?” Dean asked hoarsely. Cas looked down.

“Even a thousand years from now, he’ll love her still the same,” Cas said. He took a deep breath. “Even if-”

“She does,” Dean said quickly. Cas looked up sharply, blue eyes wide. Dean coughed. “She… I mean there was a whole song dedicated to her not saying the words, but…”

“But she does,” Cas said slowly, sounding awed. Dean shifted uncomfortably on his feet and looked away.

“You don’t think… he didn’t know?” Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sam wondered if maybe it was time to make his exit. He glanced at the door and realized that he would have to walk directly between Dean and Cas and whatever Disney magic was happening in the space between.

So. Waiting it was, then.

“He wondered, but he didn’t hope that his feelings would be reciprocated,” Cas said softly, stepping towards Dean in an almost unconscious gesture. Dean mirrored him perfectly. Sam held his breath, wondering how it had taken them this long to get here.

Dean chuckled breathlessly.

“Really? I mean… it was kind of obvious she was… you know,” Dean said, making another vague gesture, but this time between Cas and himself.

“In love?” Cas prompted, a faint smile on his lips. Dean ducked his head, then took a deep breath and met Cas’s eyes again.

“Yes,” Dean said simply. Cas’s expression melted, something tender and warm taking place of his smile, and-

Sam knew he should stop watching, he should allow Dean and Cas their privacy, but there was something so right about the moment Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to Cas’s that Sam couldn’t look away. It was like the world had heaved a sigh, shifted, and everything had fallen perfectly into place.

Pity he didn’t have his cell phone handy. A picture would have made excellent teasing fodder.

Sam cleared his throat, breaking the spell and reminding Dean and Cas that he existed, and was in fact in the same room as they were. They sprang apart, owlish looks of surprise on their faces.

Sam crossed his arms and put on his best long-suffering little brother expression.

“I don’t know how Hercules and Megara missed it, but Phil saw that coming from miles away.”

for little-big-obsessions who wanted cute deancas that’s leading to something more

“I have two fives, is that good?” Castiel asks, squinting at his cards.

“Cas,” Dean groans, “you’re not supposed to tell me. You’re supposed to bluff remember, y’now, lie?”

“Oh,” Castiel looks down at his cards and says gruffly, in the worst bluffing tone that Dean has ever heard, “I have, er, two aces.”

Dean rolls his eyes, though it’s mostly affection instead of frustration, “Oh come on, you can lie better than that, I know you can.”

Castiel stares at him, probably trying to figure out whether Dean means that as an insult or not before he replies back, fiddling with his cards, “Yes, I can lie when it means life or death, when it is needed. I don’t understand why I need to lie in a game of cards.”

Dean only grins, “God, you’re terrible at this game. It’s a good job we’re not playing strip poker, else you’d only be wearing a sock by now,” Dean feels his cheeks heat up at even the thought and fuck, he really shouldn’t have said that aloud because now he’s imagining what that would look like, of Cas’ broad shoulders and toned stomach with the dark slither of hair from his belly button to his-

“Hey,” Sam calls out when he enters the huge room and Dean sighs in relief at the fact that his thoughts are interrupted before he pops an awkward boner at the dining table, “You’ll never guess what I just found in this place.”

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Married!DeanCas AU where the two of them are away from each other for an extended period of time and Cas insists on Skyping every day at the ungodliest of hours (i.e., before noon).

“Whoa. Someone didn’t get enough beauty sleep.”
“Just for that, I’m not wearing pants. And I’m not going to show you this time.”
“One particularly naked ass, thank you.”
“That s’posed to be your way of getting me to tell you I miss you?”
“Is it working?”
“No. Maybe. Whatever. Shut up.”
“Love you, too.”

prompt by mynameisbruni: coffee shop!au

It’s strange what sights you see in the hospital at early hours in the morning- the people who are in A&E who’ve done some weird shit because they’re drunk, high, stupid, or a combination of them all, the families out in the corridors worriedly biting their nails, the nurses and doctors who look like they’re fighting to keep awake and withhold their patience when yet another visitor talks to them like they’re shit.

Thankfully, Dean finds refuge in the coffee shop. The place is empty besides a couple that are in the far corner and Dean tries not to pry into their business; there’s pretty much only one reason why they’d be here at this time of the morning and with the hushed whispers and clutched hands across the table, Dean knows it’s not good news.

Dean takes his coffee to the other side of the room, wrapping his hands around it as he waits for it to cool down. He hopes the coffee will keep him awake, all of his excitement is slowly starting to teeter onto exhaustion and he hopes the coffee will do the trick.

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Dean goes over to Charlie’s for a game night and he gets there and doesn’t really know anybody. He’s polite and stuff but doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation, more content to watch the heated game of monopoly everyone’s engaged in. 

Then Charlie breaks out Scattegories and Dean freakin’ loves Scattegories. But the only problem is that there are too many people and not enough boards and cards so they have to partner up. Dean awkwardly shuffles around partnerless until some guy comes up to him and asks if Dean would play with him. Dean grins and they sit down on the couch next to each other. 

“Ah man, I friggin’ love this game,” Dean says excitedly to his new partner. 

 "I haven’t actually ever played it before,“ the guy responds. Dean looks at him with wide eyes. 

"Dude, you’re totally missing out. Don’t worry though, it’s really easy,” he quickly starts to explain the rules as Charlie sorts through trying to find matching cards for everyone. “So basically, we’re gonna get this card that has like, a list of 12 things on it. And they’re categories, right?” The guy nods, blue eyes keenly focused on Dean. Dean wavers a little under the attention. He clears his throat before he continues. “Right, uh, well. There’s a letter and we have to come up with something with that letter that matches the category. And there’s a time limit. You got it?" 

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Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you! This is a slightly edited version of the #DCVDay twitterfic, coming in at 1.2k. No warnings. Disclaimer


Dean finds out the hard way that Valentine’s Day is the worst day to decide to show a guy you love him. He gets up early, makes eggs and bacon for everyone. He sets the table, puts out cloth napkins, and lays a flower next to Cas’s plate. Cas sniffs it when he first sits down, then sips his coffee.

He offers no reaction, like Dean gives him flowers on the regular. But he takes it with him once he’s done eating, which is something.

Sam offers to do the dishes since Dean cooked, so Dean leaves him to it and heads to the garage to think.  

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