“So, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.”
They do this now; sit on separate beds, miles away from one another, and talk. It’s uncomfortable—Dean’s face is always hot where it’s pressed against his phone, and Cas’s voice is a ghost of itself over the tinny line, but they make do. This isn’t the first time they’ve been apart and it won’t be the last. A little time apart is healthy, right?
That’s hard to remember when, ridiculously, all Dean wants is to have someone hold him.
“The wiccan I thought was a witch—Beth, you remember me talking about her? She gave me her number.”
“Uh, Cas? You there?”
“I’m here.” Dean frowns at the far-away sounding response, listening intently to the rustle of fabric as Cas settles and re-settles on whatever starched motel bed he’s found himself for the night. The angel still doesn’t need sleep, but apparently, having his own space is the only way he’s managing to stay sane on his weird little roadtrip thing with Crowley (which Dean is totally not bitter about, by the way). “Um…” Cas clear his throat. “What will you do with it?”
A frown. “Like, what’ll I do with the number? Nothing. Why,” he asks, cautious. “Do you… think I should call her?”
They haven’t had time to talk about it. Between Amara and Chuck and Mom and Lucifer, Dean’s barely had a second to wipe his ass, let alone have a Grown Up Conversation about where exactly he and Cas stand. They touch a lot, and they kiss a lot, and sometimes they fuck, but they’ve never actually said the words dating or relationship. Not that Dean’s necessarily complaining; that shit’s always ended in tears, but… he kind of thought he and Cas were on the same page for this.
“…If you want to call her,” Castiel finally says. “You should.”
Dean grits his teeth. “Wow, Cas, way to make a guy feel special.”
The freaking angel has the gall to sigh on the other end. “What are you talking about.”
“What’m I—” the hunter cuts himself off, shaking his head as his hands turn to fists. “I thought we were both knew what we were getting ourselves into, here, but I guess not. I guess I didn’t get the goddamn memo.”
“Excuse me? You’re the one who told me about a woman giving you her phone number!”
“Yeah, Cas!” Dean exclaims. “I told you about my day. I shared something with you because I thought it was something we could laugh about—haha isn’t this so hilarious because I’m 100% committed to you. But here you are fucking telling me to call her so I guess I really missed the mark on that one.”
“No. You’re always wanting me to talk? Fine. This case was so fucked Sam and I had to down six fingers just to stop fucking shaking. I was so friggin’ stubborn a social worker thought I was flirting when I went to her office to kill her, and I was so fucked up over the mom thing, I almost fucking lost Sam. A kid fucking died because I wasn’t there. Hell, the only light at the end of the tunnel was one kid got away safe, and Mom texted me back, but even though I get why she left she’s still gone. You’re still gone. And I know, okay; I’m an asshole who doesn’t treat you half as good as I should, but jesus I thought we both knew what we were doing, here.”
“Dean,” Cas says weakly.
Dean stubbornly wipes a hand down his face, taking the moisture on his cheeks with it. “Fuck, I just… I fuckin’ miss you, man. But if this ain’t gonna work out, you tell me, here and now, because I don’t think I can—” his breath hitches and he swallows the rest of his sentence, biting his lip in an attempt to keep it together. How the hell did this happen?
“Dean, I’m not—I don’t—” Cas’s breath rattles through the speaker, and Dean’s chest turns cold. “…I’m sorry about your case,” the angel finally says. “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sorry I misunderstood, but I.” He pauses, collecting himself. When he speaks next, his voice is a low croak. “I don’t want to overstep. I don’t want—”
To get kicked out again, Dean’s mind finishes. He feels his heart sink.
“Listen to me,” he says—firm, brooking no argument. “You can’t overstep. Cas, I-I want you here, for every beginning, middle and end of every day. I wanna fuckin’ make you breakfast in the morning and go to sleep with you at night, and I want people to stop giving me their numbers ’cause I can’t help holding your hand while we’re on cases. I just…”
“Me too,” the angel murmurs, suddenly all sweet and shy.
Dean bites his lip, ducking his head in a nod while his ears flare red. “Um,” he mumbles. His heart is gonna crack his ribs for how hard it’s pounding. He licks his lips. “So, uh, find that SOB so you can come home, huh?”
Cas is smiling so bright, Dean can practically hear him over the phone. “I will,” he says.
“Hey Jennnnnnnnn,” Misha says, drawing out Jensen’s nickname with a mischievous glint in his tone. “Wanna play a game?"
Jensen turns to him as Misha saunters over, placing the book in his hand down onto one of the bunker’s tables and regards him with a wary look.
"What kind of game?” Jensen asks, grabbing his water bottle off of the table top and taking a long swig.
“Gay chicken,” Misha states plainly with a grin and Jensen almost spits his water everywhere.
“Do I even want to know what the hell that is?” Jensen asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and Misha huffs out a laugh.
“Well, it’s really simple, actually. Two friends of the same-sex stand close to one another and they both lean in as if they’re about to kiss and the first one to pull away, is gay,” Misha explains, lips tilting up into a smirk.
“What happens if… uh neither of them pull away?” Jensen asks, with a cough trying to remain casual about this.
“Then they end up making out,” Misha shrugs. He’s trying to act like this isn’t some kind of trick to get Jensen to kiss him. Okay, it’s not a trick, not really, but Misha really fucking wants to kiss Jensen. And he can’t just walk up to one of his best friends, grab his shirt, push him up against a wall and kiss him senseless. So he has to get creative.
Castiel whirls around, hands quickly hiding the construction paper valentine behind his back. It’s large and kind of lopsided, but his Gabriel said it was just perfect: green like Dean’s eyes, big like his heart.
…It’s even got that one mistake that resembles the hole where his friend’s front teeth should be.
“Cas, here, I got something for you!”
Dean practically jumps up and down in his excitement, gap-toothed grin widening as he reveals, with a flourish, what is behind his back. “See?!” he exclaims. “It’s for today! For Valentime’s!”
One afternoon Dean finds out that the bunker has a secret garden.
Dean didn’t even know that small little spot of land behind the bunker existed. He happens upon the area while wandering around the bunker trying to find Cas who had literally been in the kitchen like two seconds ago, but Dean turned his back and when he turned back around, Cas was gone. Dean had been trying to teach him how to make coffee. Not that Cas didn’t know how to make coffee, he just didn’t know how to make good coffee. Obviously this activity wasn’t very interesting to Cas who decided to leave right when Dean was about to explain the importance of an equal coffee grains to water ratio.
Dean wanders around for five minutes, checking all of Cas’s usual spaces. The library, his room, the garage and he is nowhere to be found. So Dean starts trying random doors. There are a lot of rooms in the bunker that Dean hasn’t explored. He wants to, there just hasn’t been time with the whole angels thing. He ends up in a dark, clearly unused area of the bunker somewhere on the second floor. Most of the rooms in this hallway are locked except for one. When he turns the doorknob and opens the door, he is blinded by the glaring light of the sun.
Stepping through the doorway, he shields his eyes from the sun with his hand, blinking at the sudden brightness. Ten feet in front of him stands Cas, silhouetted by the sunlight. The other man has his eyes trained on the sun, blinking slowly at the brightness above him. Dean steps forward, coming to rest at Cas’s side.
“Cas? What are you doing?” Dean asks, looking at Cas who completely disregards him and instead glances at the small garden around them. It isn’t really a garden so to speak, more like a large square of dirt filled with various sorts of rocks and sticks, walled in by seven feet tall brick walls.
Recently I hit 4K and wow, that’s a lot for someone who doesn’t do much lmao. I appreciate all the followers and I’m gonna be more active on here. I love you all. Thank you to @princesscas for the header <3
DeanCas Coda to 12.06: Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox. Special thanks to @dudewheresmypie for that line.
There’s a buzzing against his thigh, and Dean barely has to do acrobatics to fish the damn thing from his pocket. One look at the Caller ID makes him light up from the inside out. “Uh, sorry, I gotta—”
Jody smirks at him as he all but trips out of his Tim Horton’s chair, cursing the Canadians and their weird obsession with this dumbass Dunkin’ Donuts wannabe. What’s wrong with swivel chairs and goddamn diner booths? Making a huge show of clearing his throat in an attempt to cover his beet red face, Dean nods awkwardly at his mom and Sammy before stumbling towards the door.
“Cas?” Even to his ears, he sounds breathless and excited, but he barely has time to be embarrassed because Cas is murmuring his hello Dean, and Dean is a total goner.
“Hey,” the hunter smiles. He makes his way across the parking lot and leans against his Baby’s side. “What’s up, Sunshine?”
This scene immediately screams “ROMANTIC TROUPE”, where - as @dudewheresmypie put it brilliantly - the usual, cliched, ‘I can’t let you do this. It can’t go on any longer. I can’t sit here and watch you fall in love with somebody else when I’m already so in love with you.’ would occur.
Take another look at the first gif with me.
Dean body language, as well as the tone of his “Cas wait” does NOT suggest he’s about to make a comment about his attire. He looks tense the entire time and as if he’s having a mental battle with himself.
Then we get to the second gif.
And this is how i believe the chronological order of his mental argument goes:
1) Looks into Cas’ eyes then down to his lips
Reminisces on love for him.
2) Nods and says “I can’t let you do this.” with determination in his brow.
Wants to tell him that he loves him not to go and to stay with him in a 'no homo’ way.
3) In the split second with his eyes closed he bails because he doesn’t think he’s worthy of love
“Nope, can’t. Quick new excuse”
4) Opens his eyes to see Cas’ Gas 'n’ Sip jacket
Quick, he’s going on a date, say some shit about his clothes.
5) stares at his body
“The longer i stare the less suspicious he’ll be”
6) “You’re gonna wear that? On a date?
But i’m not done.
Look at Cas here.
Unless it’s just me, i don’t need to wear shippy goggles to recognise the looks on his face. He doesn’t just look like he’s waiting to hear the quick wit of Dean he knows all too well, even if he is pop-culture savvy now. He genuinely looks like he’s waiting for his big movie blowout.
This short scene breaks my heart and i really hope Dean the writers grows the necessary balls needed to man up to his feelings
I haven’t made one in forever so I think it’s time to finally make another one :D To everybody, thank you so much for deciding to follow me (even though I think most of the 25k are inactive and spam blogs) :D I love you guys!
To everybody mentioned below (I’ve been following some of you guys for years and others just a couple of weeks). thank you so much for filling my dash with Destiel, Cockles, Cas, Misha, the Winchesters, J2, and all things SPN every single day for almost 3 years ♥ ♥ ♥
2016 has been a weird year for this blog, ive changed my url (gonna change it again), gained more followers than i ever thought was possible and befriended some amazing people! so going into 2017 i want to let everyone know that youre stuck with me forever ♡
sorry about the header me and photoshop are only coming to terms
Castiel’s palms sweat as he climbs the steps to the Archangels’ apartments, heart pounding uncontrollably as he keeps his head bowed. Alastair was clear in his instructions: do not look upon them, do not speak unless spoken to, and most importantly, do whatever they ask—anything, Castiel.
So, Castiel had been washed thoroughly—hair scrubbed, feet soaked, his nipples and mouth and groin anointed with eucalyptus oil… he’d been dressed in a tunic belonging to the Church, a white veil placed of his head as a symbol of his purity, and draped in gold jewellery. On his head, he carried a tray full of their choicest fruits.
He only hopes the Archangels will accept him, the youngest Angel, as their first tribute.
But when he gets to the door of the apartments, Michael and Lucifer are arguing. Torn between wanting to give them privacy, and being terrified of getting turned away, Castiel freezes in place. Surely, the Archangels will know he’s arrived and give him some sort of direction.
“Are you kidding me?!” Michael hisses, pushing at his brother’s chest. “You were the one going on and on about lying to these suckers and now you want to, what, frolic in the streets with them!?!”
Castiel frowns. Lying to…?
Lucifer rolls his eyes, arms crossing over his chest.
I hit 3k+ a few days ago. I’ve been waiting and hoping it will come to Christmas. And here we go! Thank you so much for following me. It means a lot. You always inspire me to make, to create something. You all are amazing. Also i want to wish you Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and I hope you have the best holiday
season! Here are my ‘christmas’ deancas art and the 1st ‘follow forever’ (i’ve never done this list before, maybe i tagged you right):
Dear artists we are here to finally allow you to post your full artworks, please don’t forget to tag us, so we can reblog! You can also post photos of the insides of the book & deluxe goodies! It’s gonna be a busy days for us trying to catch up with your amazing posts! HAVE FUN!
ROUND OF APPLAUSE TO ALL OUR AMAZING ARTISTS ONCE AGAIN!