Imagine Sam being called Daddy by your daughter....
“Sam where are you?” You called as you wandered through the bunker, your daughter, Carlee, following behind you as you called throughout the bunker looking for your moose of a boyfriend.
“Mommy let’s face it, Daddy isn’t coming out.” She pouted as you quickly looked at her little face, her brown waves hung down around her face, her cheek was slightly pink and her eyes were hazel, but even though she looked like Sam, she wasn’t his.
For you met Sam after the birth of your daughter, he was working a case with Dean when you met him, at the time Carlee was two. She knew that Sam wasn’t her father, for her father checked out before Carlee was even born, but Sam had been there for three years. She however had never called him daddy before, and he wasn’t even there to hear it.
“Well Carlee maybe he is with Dean.” You said, trying to hold back the tears as she looked at you.
“DEAN!” She said running down the hall towards the kitchen, where she knew he would be drinking a beer and making her favorite for dinner, The famous Winchester Burgers. At the sound of the little girl calling for him, he exited the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, and looked for the little girl.
“Carlee, I promise the burgers will be done soon honey, I just have to finish…”
“Do you know where my Daddy is?” She asked as his face went white, he looked to you for help, which you worded to him, “Sammy”
“Well honey, I haven’t seen Sammy, last I knew he was in the library hiding from you.” Dean smiled as she went running down the hall, leaving you to look at Dean.
“So that’s new.” Dean said as he leaned against the door.
“Yea, she just started doing it.” You said as you looked at him, “I mean though, it makes sense. You and Sam, are the only father figures she has ever had. I am just shocked she….”
You were cut off by the voice of Sam, “HONEY!”
“Better go make sure Carlee hasn’t tickled him to death.” You smiled as you started walking away.
“Wonder when I will be called uncle Dean?” He asked you as you started walking away, laughing as you replied, “One day, probably not today though.”
You jogged to the library to see Sam had Carlee seated on the long chestnut table. His back turned to you, however Carlee saw you, “Mommy!”
“Yes Sam?” You asked as you looked up at him, a small smile on his face.
“She just called me Daddy, she has never…”
“Actually she has called you Daddy twice today already, once to me, and again to Dean, but looks like you are now Daddy Sam.”
“So does that mean..”
“Yes Sam, you are a better father then John ever was.” You whispered as you kissed his check.
“Now can we go eat some of Uncle Dean’s burgers?” Carlee asked as she swung her legs of the side of the table, your mouth hung open as you thought of the words you said less then five minutes ago.
“Yes you may honey, if you ask him exactly what you just asked me.” You answered as she ran towards the kitchen, your hand reaching out to stop him, “Wait for it.”
Several Seconds later you heard Dean run into the entryway, “She called me Uncle! I am Uncle Dean now.” and then he ran off, leaving you laughing at the little family you had made.
Summary: Sam visits the reader the night before he leaves to face Lucifer. Set right before Swan Song. Told from Sam’s POV.
Warning: smut, angst
Word Count: 1800ish
A/N: Thanks to @unadulteratedstorycollector for the idea, even though it went a different direction than we thought.. Hope you all enjoy it! Feedback appreciated! XOXO
Sam falls into her bed harder than he should. Her gasp is more surprised than pleased, and he can’t really blame her. He’s acting like an animal right now, shaky and wild, not saying a word. He opens his mouth to try, but nothing comes out, and she has every right to push him out of bed.
Sam is feeling embarrassed and frustrated so Y/N helps him out.
it’s short but it does go in to quite a bit of detail for what it is.
fuck’s sake!” Sam yelled from across the table, slamming his laptop closed and
hitting his fist off of the table. You could see that your boyfriend was
stressed out and you knew why; both of you were struggling to find any lore
that would help you with your case, even though you had been looking for at
least 3 hours now.
When Sam spreads his jacket on the ground and Dean lays her body on top of it, Cas can’t do a damn thing. Her body is covered in sigils, angel warding, preventing him from touching her, from sensing her, from healing her.
Cas drops to his knees and sees the anguish in Dean’s eyes.
“What are you waiting for, Cas? Heal her!” Dean shouts.
“Dean, I can’t, she’s covered in sigils I can’t even touch her.”
Sam’s eyes widen in understanding. “We have to get her to a hospital,” he says. Dean scoops her up and rushes her to the Impala. He slides her into the back seat and cradles her head in his lap as Sam floors the engine. He strokes her hair gently and speaks softly to her, hoping against hope that she can be saved.
Finally, they let Dean, Sam and Cas into the hospital room. Dean had been crawling out of his skin for hours, pacing under the bright fluorescent lights in the waiting room. Sam and Cas tracked Dean with their eyes, knowing full well that the hunter was tearing himself up inside. But what could they do? They both knew Dean would never forgive himself if she never recovered.
Dean’s breath catches in his throat when he sees you in the hospital bed, tubes and machines everywhere. Here, you look so fragile and broken. You’d always been a bright spot, so full of life. Now you were just a shell, a broken vessel.
“We’ve done what we can,” the doctor explains in a monotone voice. He’s told this story a million times to a million grieving families. “For now, all we can do is watch and wait.”
Dean is angry. Angry at himself. Angry that Cas can’t heal her. Angry that she’s trapped in this coma. Angry. And broken. Devastated. He shouldn’t have let this asshole go all those years ago. He shouldn’t have let her go. He can’t accept this, he can’t lose her.
The doctor continues, “Someone from social services will be here later, to help you arrange palliative care…”
“Palliative care?” Sam interrupts. “I thought it was a watch and wait situation.”
The doctor sighs and removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, truthfully, there isn’t much hope of anything other than a persistent, vegetative state. There are, of course, the miracles, the ones that pull out, but more often than not, all we can do is make the patient comfortable.”
Dean makes a move toward the doctor, he needs to punch something, someone, but Cas places a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. “Is there nothing we can do?” Cas asks the doctor, feeling helpless, useless.
“If you’re the praying type, I’d suggest you get down on your knees,” the doctor says, not unkindly, before leaving the room.
“Dean, don’t give up hope,” Cas suggests. “I’m going to go look for a solution,” he says before blinking out of the room.
Sam and Dean stand vigil at her bedside for hours, tossing ideas back and forth. When the social worker stops by, Sam quickly diverts her to the hallway and talks to her in hushed tones so that Dean won’t hear. Dean refuses to accept that this is the end. Sam doesn’t want to accept it, but he’s thinking more rationally than his brother.
When Sam returns, Cas is back. He stands next to Dean looking defeated. “I’m sorry, Dean, I can’t find a way to remove the sigils without hurting her. If I can’t remove the sigils, I can’t heal her.”
Dean drops his head into his hands and Sam’s heart breaks for his brother. When Dean raises his head, his eyes are glistening. “I just, I can’t let her go, not like this. I need to tell her all of the things I should have said. I was so caught up in what I shouldn’t do that I couldn’t see what I needed to do. I can’t,” Dean’s voice breaks as the tears spill over his cheeks. “I can’t.”
Sam feels at a loss for words. He doesn’t know how to comfort his brother. He knows how broken his brother is. If only he could say goodbye, have some closure.
“Wait,” Sam says, as inspiration strikes. “I have an idea.”
-Team Free Will having issues with each other but working through them rather than sneaking off from one another
-Dean affirming Cas
-DEAN AFFIRMING CAS
-Dean wanting to march off to his death just to make sure Cas is okay even though he’s still really pissed at him
-Direct parallels between romantic couples and Dean and Cas
-Dean touching Cas a little more than he needs to
-Dean admitting to having feelings
-Needy ass feelings
-Needy ass feelings re: his angel
-Dean calling Cas constantly
-Did I mention I really like it when Cas gets affirmed?
-Once more, for good measure, Cas getting affirmed
Honestly, that episode was just … everything. Like I know us Destiel shippers talk about subtext all the time but I honestly don’t understand how one can view an episode like “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” and not see that Cas and Dean’s relationship is something … special.
The main plotline re: Lily Sunders (Alicia Witt was fantastic) is absolutely great, both on its own and as a parallel to Dean and Cas.
But the whole episode was just consumed with Cas and Dean’s relationship and their feelings towards one another.
And then there’s Sam like a giant neon sign of caring about them both but in a fundamentally different way - that despite all the talk of Cas’s friendship with “Sam and Dean,” the relationships are wholly separate entities.
But honestly, yeah, the feelings Dean and Cas have towards one another are complicated and messy and beautiful and this episode is a perfect embodiment of why I ship it.
(I hope I got that right and didn’t just call you a blind squirrel in Russian or something even worse.)
me, did you enjoy yourself tonight, Dean?”
himself to look up from where he’d been absentmindedly staring at the glass in
his hand, taking a sip of his remaining whiskey before offering Cas a slow nod.
Cas… Yeah, that was nice.”
was sitting right beside him, their knees touching-, nodded too, mirroring
Dean. “Sam insisted on inviting some friends over for your birthday, I
wasn’t sure you’d appreciate a surprise party, but I trusted his judgment.”
head, Dean huffed in amusement. “I figured… It’s fine, it was good seeing
fell, and Dean noticed how soft music was still playing in the background, even
though the guests were long gone. His mom had been there, and Jody, and Donna, and
some of their other fellow hunters. Even Claire had tagged along; she’d given
him a dorky birthday card that jokingly spelled the message ‘congratulations, old man’.
laughed about it good-naturedly, of course. That was typical Claire.
now that the only ones left were him and Cas, along with a lot of empty glasses
and some leftover snacks, he found that it nagged him. Because even if it had
been an ongoing joke between them, she wasn’t wrong. Dean wasn’t getting any
almost hear the gears turning in your head.” Cas muttered, and Dean felt a
hand carefully grazing his knee. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”
Aelin swallowed hard. There were wounds in both of them that had yet to heal, but this one… Truth. As always, she could offer him one truth in exchange for another. ‘I didn’t deserve Sam.’
Queen of Shadows
Sometimes, I read this quote and just feel really sad because no matter what she does in her life - almost escape the salt mines, tap into magic, become the king’s champion, and fight for her kingdom as queen - Aelin never felt like she was worthy enough that she deserved Sam’s love. Perhaps that’s the saddest piece of Sam’s death. Not that he died young, though that is extremely tragic. Nor the way that he died - a way that no one deserves. No, the saddest part of his death that it destroyed Aelin and even years later, she still didn’t feel like she even deserved him when he loved her more than anything else in his life. She still doesn’t realize that she was the sole reason he was even happy for those last few months until Arobynn destroyed their future.
tiny little 12x04 coda with dean because reasons. also the end scene didn’t happen. it just didn’t.
The motel rooms were cheap as dirt, but Dean wasn’t
complaining. It wasn’t often he and Sam could afford to get two rooms. The
walls might be thinner than paper, there might be at least thirty suspicious
stains within Dean’s sight, there might be leaks and mould and grime and he
still wouldn’t mind. He needed the space. Just for a little while.
It’d been two days since his mother left, and he thought he’d
learnt almost as much about his her whilst she’d been gone. It still hurt. But
he got it more.
There were so many things happening, and all of them hurt a
little. Mom leaving. Cas leaving. Cas teaming up with Crowley. Arguing with Sam
on the hunt, even though they were okay now. That kind of thing.
He was dealing with it. Slowly. It occurred to him that he
could do with a little advice. Or perhaps just some good company.
Cas’s number seemed to dial itself.
“Hello, Dean.” Dean smiled a little into the mouthpiece. The
familiar greeting comforted him, like a hand on his shoulder. Cas might come
and go, but at least he didn’t ever change too much.
“Hey, Cas. How’s it going?”
“Not well. Well, perhaps it is. I don’t know.” Despite the fact
that the topic in question was the devil himself, Dean huffed a little at the
coherency of Cas’s reply.
“You wanna be a little less specific there, Sherlock?” Silence
on the other end of the line. Dean almost heard Cas rolling his eyes.
The fact that Cas even picked up the call showed he was
okay. But Dean still felt a little worried. He knew Cas could handle himself,
knew that he wouldn’t take any crap from Crowley. Or Rowena or whomever else he
ended up tagging along with.
He just didn’t want Cas to feel like he was cleaning up a
mess he singlehandedly caused. Because he was cleaning it up, but it wasn’t his
fault. Not all of it, at least.
“We haven’t heard anything to suggest that he’s moved from
the very bottom of the ocean somewhere.” Cas spoke nonchalantly, as if this was
a conversation he regularly had. What strange lives they led.
“Well, that’s good, right?”
“For the moment, yes.” Cas went quiet for a moment,
obviously considering his next words. “I could probably come back to Kansas for
a night or two, if you and Sam wanted?”
Dean had been expecting Cas to ask how he was. Then again,
Cas knew him just as well as Sam. And odds were Sam had updated him earlier
Dean didn’t even have to think about his answer.
“Yes. Yeah, that’d be nice. God knows we all deserve a few
days off…literally.” Cas didn’t laugh at that either, but he did smile. Dean
“Okay, I’ll see you at the bunker in a day or two.”
“Speaking from experience, you are not an easy person to
Dean didn’t know how to respond. But he knew it made him
smile and he knew it meant Cas wanted to come home.
“Thanks, Cas. See you soon.”
“Goodnight, Dean.” They both spent a few moments just
breathing into their phones, waiting for the other to hang up, before the dial
tone starts up in Dean’s ear.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he whispered, to no one in
particular. Himself, maybe.
Cas was coming home. He and Sam were fine. And Mom…well,
she just needed a little space. And Dean would give her that.
Dean unlocked his phone again to send one last text before
going to bed. After all, he had a lot of driving to do tomorrow.
No but if Dean ever discovered the supernatural fandom (real one, not the show one) he’d probably laugh and be like, “so what are they called? Deanions? Sam-miesters?” And Sam would look down at his laptop and say, “The Supernatural… Family” and Dean would probably go a bit quiet and maybe get a bit emotional because even though he hates the books he’d be really fucking happy that because of him people were able to find a family and I’m just really invested in this shit
Dean downs what’s left of his third beer and sets the bottle on the table, sighing heavily. Sam is already in his room – said something about wanting to read, or watch something, or whatever, and Dean pretends he doesn’t know that Sam was just trying to give him and Cas some privacy.
Dean looks at Cas, but if Cas is aware of someone’s eyes on him, he doesn’t show it. He’s nursing what has to be his seventh beer, and he’s nowhere near even slightly tipsy, which Dean supposes figures, angelic tolerance or whatever. Cas’ gaze is unfocused, and he hasn’t said anything in over half an hour, now. Dean wonders what’s going on in his mind, even though he figures it makes sense that Cas would be… lost in thought? Possibly upset? It’s been a long day.
Ten minutes come and go, and when Cas’ silence hits the forty-five-minute mark, Dean knows he can’t take it anymore.
“Alright,” he says, leaning forward and trying to catch Cas’ gaze. “Tell me.”
This is about sex.
So not read if you don’t like it. Simple as that. SMUT.
Kinks for each of
the Avengers. That’s it.
Steve has a major Dom kink. He loved
to be on top and watch you squirm beneath him. Even though he was the Dom, he
always seemed to feel a need to be constantly pleasuring you. He’d pin you down
and bury his face between your legs, loving every second of it.
Tony was the complete opposite of
Steve. He relished is the way you took full control and pinned him beneath you.
He really got riled up when you’d tie him up, leave and return in only your
black lingerie and heels. When you applied the pressure of your heels onto
Tony’s bare chest, he’d instantly tense up and become groaning mess.
Nat loved toys. Her favourite to use
on you was her “Lucky Silver Bullet”. She called it lucky because over the
course of your year and a half relationship, she’d made you orgasm almost 215
times. Whereas she loved it when you used a simple pink dildo on her.
Clint was into doing everything
extremely slow and sensual. He loved seeing you shiver underneath him in anticipation.
Rough was the best way to describe
it. Thor was truly a warrior, through and through, and there was no way to
conceal that when he got riled up. Biting, scratching, growling. It was
Loki was into bondage. He loved
seeing you tied up, helpless, as he took full control. He would have to hide
his grin as he heard you beg for him.
While it wasn’t really a kink, Bruce
only ever wanted to have sex in the lab. He didn’t know why, but that’s just
how he rolled.
Sam had a major costume kink. He
loved when you both put on wings especially, then fucked extremely hard.
Bucky was really into roleplay. His
favourites included ‘Teacher and Student’, ‘Prince and Prisoner’ and ‘Vampire
Lots of dirty talk. He’d purr and
growl all the things he wanted to do to you in your ear, then kissed your
those nights, Wanda would sit back on a chair she had set up in her room with a
dark look and watch you writhe around as she used her powers to make you orgasm
over and over again.
He would kidnap him, break into the gym at night, and then
strap him to the treadmill and make him beg for mercy.
The thought of vengeance brought a small smile to his face
and distracted him momentarily from the painful stitch in his side. A moment
later, he felt Sam come up next to him.
“I know that smile. You’re plotting your revenge against me,
aren’t you,” Sam said, sounding – to Dean’s immense satisfaction – a bit
Good, he should be
scared. Even if Dean didn’t quite go as far as kidnapping him, there was
always the classic move of switching his hair products or toothpaste out for
something else. Though of course since Sam moved in with Jess, his girlfriend
of five years, that would be far more tricky to pull off than it was when they
were still living together.
But he’d find a way. He was motivated.
“You don’t get to talk to me,” Dean said grumpily, pointing
at Sam in an accusatory way. His words had a lot less bite than he would’ve
wished seeing as he basically had to gasp for breath between each word. Sam –
the little shit – looked less than impressed.
“Dean,” he started, his calm and placating tone making Dean
want to punch him in the face, “I know this is hard right now but that’s
because you’re so out of shape – I mean, you’ve only been running for, what, fifteen
minutes? But if you come with me a couple of times, you’ll be on the same level
as me before you know it.”
“Forget it Sammy,” Dean said, panting every few words, “I
only came here today because mom guilt-tripped me into it.” There was a slight pause
as he got his breathing under control. “Mark my words, I will never come back here.”
Sam shrugged, already turning away. “Okay Dean, I can’t make
you do this. I know you were probably planning on spending the weekend watching
tv, but think about it – with all that crap you eat every week, I kinda not
want to have to say goodbye to my big brother prematurely.” He then walked away
around the corner to the section of the gym that had all the weights, no doubt
to work on his already impressive biceps and triceps.
The stitch came back in full force and Dean had to lower the
speed of the treadmill so he could walk it off. Damn, now Dean felt guilty.
Because truth be told, he had been
planning to spend the weekend once again sitting at home in his underwear,
marathoning the latest season of Doctor Sexy and eating takeout. He had become a little bit of a hermit lately,
only going out when Charlie or Benny invited him, and then usually they ended
up just doing something at their place, like watching movies or playing games. Often
accompanied by copious amounts of junk food. As a result, his stomach had
started to become a little more pudgy than before…
The thought revitalized Dean. Sam had a point, loath as he
was to admit it. It definitely wouldn’t hurt to get some exercise in. Sure, his
upper body strength was great - courtesy of his day job as a mechanic - but his
lower body left something to be desired. Damn it, he could do this! His finger
moved to press the button that would increase the pace to running speed once
“Excuse me, but is this treadmill taken?”
Dean sighed internally, dropping his hand. Just as he’d
found his second wind, some douchebag had to interrupt him and break his
concentration. Also, what kind of a question was that? It wasn’t like these treadmills had people’s names written on
it, or that you could reserve one or something. If it’s free, it’s free. How
hard could it be to figure that out?
He was about to deliver a sarcastic retort when he locked
eyes with the guy who’d come up next to him. Blue eyes, strong jaw, messy
dark-brown hair that made Dean’s fingers itch with the desire to run them
through it, and – he realized belatedly as his brain caught up – a voice that
was somehow simultaneously rough as gravel and smooth as bourbon. Dean’s ideal
type in every single way.
Dean couldn’t help it – he stumbled. At walking speed.
He recovered quickly, pausing the treadmill and bending down
with a mumbled “damn, sorry, my shoelaces got untied”. He made a show of
retying them quickly, before standing up again and facing the stranger,
refusing to even acknowledge the amused sparkle in his eyes and upturned corner
of his mouth.
“Yeah, of course it’s free, go ahead man,” Dean said,
shrugging lightly. Stay cool, you got this.
“Oh, good, it’s just that there’s a water bottle here so I
thought it was already occupied,” the guy responded, gesturing towards – damn!
He’d somehow put his bottle in the wrong holder.
Dean managed to keep a straight face as he took the water
bottle and placed it in his treadmill’s holder. “Oh yea, that’s mine. Sorry, I
guess I wasn’t paying enough attention when I put it down,” he said casually.
Ok, this was good, his dignity remained intact.
The guy smiled at him and Dean couldn’t help returning it.
They both turned back towards their respective treadmills, with Dean sneaking
glances at the guy out of the corner of his eye.
A minute later, both men had started a new program and were jogging
at a mild pace (the guy probably still needed to warm up). Really, Dean had
only intended to run for maybe five or ten minutes more, but he suddenly found
himself doubly motivated to keep going for at least 30 minutes. For the sake of
his health, of course. No ulterior motives there.
They must’ve been the only two people in the entire gym who weren’t listening to music on their
phones or mp3 players. This meant there was a clear opportunity for
conversation. And despite the less than ideal start, Dean was definitely interested in getting better
acquainted with this man, who was obviously a seasoned runner because those
legs and thighs were just to die for
and he wasn’t even breaking a sweat yet.
Dean spent the next few minutes thinking of the best way to
approach this conversation, all the while matching the guy’s steady increase in
But before he could break out his opening line – which would’ve
been amazing because he can charm the pants off anyone and has awesome game,
thank-you-very-much – the guy beat him to it with a question of his own.
“Are you okay? Your breath sounds very irregular. You should
take it easy. Don’t want to overdo it, right?” His facial expression was
neutral and friendly, but Dean could hear
the challenge in the guy’s voice. And yeah, maybe he had noticed that he was
sweating and panting yet again, but who was that guy to comment on it?
What Dean did next was a bad, bad idea. But he couldn’t help it. Never let it be said that Dean
Winchester ever backed away from a challenge.
“Dude, I’m fine,” Dean managed to get out without having to
pause for breath. “I’m just not at my ideal speed yet and it’s putting me off.”
He increased the pace of the treadmill even more, moving from a quick jogging
speed to a medium running speed. The sudden increase was brutal, and he had to
grit his teeth and focus on his breathing to keep up.
Next to him, the guy matched his increase in speed with a
shrug and a “suit yourself”. Smug bastard wasn’t even breathing all that quick.
Where was he hiding that extra lung because Dean sure could use one right now.
Five minutes later, Dean was dying. Because he was concentrating on his breathing so much, he
managed to keep himself from hyperventilating, but the stitch was back with a
vengeance and the pain was almost unbearable. His leg muscles were also
starting to ache. He couldn’t keep this up much longer. Blue eyes was gonna beat him, and he was gonna
have to go off with his tail between his legs. It wasn’t fair, anyway. Dean had
been running for fifteen minutes already before the guy had even shown up!
Distracted by his thoughts, Dean didn’t noticed the oncoming
leg cramp until it was too late. With a cry, he lost his balance, falling off
the treadmill onto the gym floor with a hard thump.
Luckily, the floor was slightly padded, and while he’d
banged his knee and elbow quite hard against the treadmill, his head had been
spared from any injury. It hurt a lot, though, what with the cramp still
raging, and Dean was curled in on himself moaning softly in pain and cradling
his leg when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked up to see the guy
looking at him in concern.
“Are you okay, Dean? Let me see,” he said, gently pulling
Dean’s arms away from his leg and checking to see the damage. He wasn’t
bleeding, thank god, but a big bruise was slowly blossoming on his kneecap and
“We need to stretch your leg to get rid of the cramp,” the
guy said, moving Dean into a different position that would allow him to do just
that. “Here, let me.” He carefully stretched Dean’s leg, and the relief was
almost immediate, though it was tempered with the pain his new bruise was
Dean inspected his elbow, and found no blood there, either.
All in all, he was damned lucky. That fall could’ve been a lot uglier.
Through the haze of pain he registered an almost pleasant
feeling. It was coming from his leg, the one with the cramp that had now
passed. It felt like…
The guy was softly stroking and squeezing his leg. Running
his warm hands up and down his calf almost reverently, still looking at him in
deep concern. Dean’s cheeks warmed slightly. He was pretty sure that this wasn’t
strictly necessary to help get rid of a cramp, but he wasn’t about to complain.
“Dean, are you alright?” The guy asked again.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for the help.” He waved away a
nervous gym employee that had been hovering nearby, assuring him that he wasn’t
He turned back to the guy, meeting his gaze. And this time,
now that the pain was receding into a dull, manageable ache, Dean realized what
was wrong with the guy’s words.
“How do you know my
name?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.
The guy’s reaction was immediate. His face turned completely
red, easily beating out Dean’s earlier discrete blush, and he averted his eyes.
“I am a friend of Sam’s actually,” he mumbled. “He talks
about you a lot.”
Dean sat up a little straighter. “What? How?”
“I‘m head of accounting for the law firm he just started
working at. We meet regularly for lunch and during staff meetings,” he
explained, recovering calm composure. “He may have mentioned me before? My name
is Castiel Novak.”
Oh. Oh! Sam had
indeed mentioned him before, once. Said he was this weird but cool guy, that he
thought he was just Dean’s type and that he was happy to introduce the two of
them. Dean had brushed Sam off with some kind of bullshit excuse that he was
too busy to date, and it hadn’t come up again. He hadn’t truly believed that
Sam even knew what his type was.
He was wrong. Sam evidently knew him better than he’d
“Uh, yeah, actually he did. It’s good to meet you, though I’ll
be honest here, you haven’t really seen me at my best.” Dean smiled self-deprecatingly.
He stood up, then, holding out a hand to Castiel who took it gratefully.
Castiel smiled back. “I believe you. Don’t feel bad about
cramping up – it can happen to anyone, especially when they’re not frequent
runners. Although,” he paused, throwing Dean a mock stern look, “in your case I
believe it happened because you pushed yourself too hard.”
“Hey,” Dean exclaimed, feeling the need to defending
himself, “you kinda goaded me there man, admit it! What was I supposed to do, back
Castiel coughed, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I will admit
to trying to motivate you to keep running, as Sam had mentioned to me that you
could do with the exercise. I just didn’t think you’d take to the challenge
with quite such vigour and try to match my pace. Your brother failed to mention
just how strong your competitive spirit was.
Hah! If Sam played down Dean’s competitiveness he must’ve
really been serious about presenting a good image of Dean to Castiel. He must
really want them to work out. Come to think of it…
“So…” Dean raised his eyebrows, “is it a total coincidence
that you’re here on the same day I decide to come in for the very first time,
or did a certain someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to a sasquatch tip
Castiel’s deer-in-the-headlights look gave him the answer.
“I see. I bet he pointed me out to you too, didn’t he? So
you could come and run on the treadmill next to me?”
Castiel’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry Dean,” he said
contritely. “I just…really wanted to meet you and when Sam said that you weren’t
interested in a formal date, I thought that meeting you in a more casual way
might be better.”
That was one hell of a confession. It took guts for Castiel
to admit it, thereby leaving him vulnerable and open to rejection should Dean
wish to turn him away. However, rather than thinking about rejection, Dean
chose to focus on feeling incredibly flattered that Castiel had wanted to meet
him so badly he’d conspired with his little brother. Sure, it was a bit weird,
but he trusted Sam not to set him up with a creepy stalker.
“Oh wow, that, uh, actually makes sense.” Okay, this was the
part where Dean was supposed to segue into asking Castiel out, because – let’s
face it – despite everything that had happened so far, he was definitely still interested
in getting to know Castiel better and finding out if those smooth, warm hands
were good at other things besides calf massages…
Completely oblivious to the fact he’d obviously let the
silence stretch on for a tad too long, Dean was startled by a soft cough from
Castiel. “I’m sorry,” he said, his body language shutting down, “I’ll just go,
this was a bad idea anyway and look how it turned out. I’m so sorry to have
bothered you, Dean. Goodbye.”
As he turned away, Dean moved on instinct, lunging forward
and grabbing Castiel’s t-shirt with a cry of “wait!”
If only he hadn’t missed the sports bag on the ground
Oh crap, not again,
Dean thought as he went down, taking Castiel with him.
Dean landed rather softly on top of Castiel, who’d taken the
brunt of the fall. Luckily, due to the padding and the fact that they were far
enough away from any exercise machines, no real harm was done.
This meant that both men
- after exchanging assurances that they were fine – realized at the same
time that their entire bodies were now in contact with each other. For what
felt like the hundred time today, they both flushed faintly and couldn’t help
but laugh at the absurdness of the situation.
“So,” Dean smirked, finally feeling like he had the upper
hand, “You caused me to fall off my treadmill, I accidentally drag you down
with me. I think that makes us even now.”
“No,” Castiel replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I don’t
think we are. It was not my fault your leg cramped and you fell, whereas in
this scenario you clearly are the culprit,
unintentional or not.”
“So what do you suggest then?”
“I must insist you let me take you out to dinner.”
Dean pretended to consider it. “Okay, but…” He moved his
mouth closer to Castiel’s, until they were only an inch or two apart. “Only if I
get to give you the best post-first date kiss you’ve ever had.”
The joy that lit up Castiel’s face was a wonder to behold,
and Dean hoped he’d get to see it many times from now on.
“I don’t know Dean, I’ve had some pretty great post-date
kisses. Not sure you can make good on that promise,” Castiel answered teasingly,
stroking his fingers lightly over Dean’s arms.
Okay, but Dean remaining a demon for a few years, beating Sam enough that his brother stops looking and Cas, so rattled from the near death Dean inflicted, goes full on drug addict, very much reminiscent of his alternate life in 2014.
And when Dean finds this version of Cas, he actually can’t take it.
So he tells himself a lot of lies about “gaining Cas’ trust just to break him” and “getting him better so he can fully torture him” but none of the lies have any foreseeable deadline and every other demon he comes in contact with can see right through them.
Dean being ridiculously gentle when it comes to taking care of Cas. The two of them sharing a bed each night as Cas’ draining grace makes it harder and harder for him to stay awake, and Dean uses the lie that he finds Cas’ nightmares annoying.
And even though neither will admit it, Cas has Dean totally and utterly whipped. When he asked Dean to try and smooth his relationship with Sam over, he immediately hopped in his car and drove twelve hours to make things right. When he asked Dean to move back into the Bunker, Dean did so without a second thought.
Of course, Dean always acts like he’s thought of the ideas himself, even makes up some half-assed reason why it’ll inconvenience Cas (I’ll eat all your food, you know. You’ll have to double your grocery shopping) but he won’t admit that being with Cas makes him feel more like himself than he has since becoming a demon.
The first time they kiss, Dean tries to scare Cas off by flashing his eyes black, but Cas merely kissing the corner of Dean’s lips and telling him he loves him unconditionally. Dean can’t even come up with a good excuse to continue kissing Cas (the best he’s got is “I do what I want”), but he does it anyway, gentle and sweet, as though trying to atone for all the wounds he’s inflicted.
Dean interrupting tender moments with “I’m going to torture you later, you know,” but more and more those are becoming a joke, Cas smiling knowingly and continuing with whatever they’re doing.
One point, a year later, Dean meets up with Crowley and expects Crowley to tell him he’s gone off the deep end, but instead Crowley merely sizes him up and says “Guess you’re not full demon after all,” and he might not admit it, but there’s a hint of pride in his voice, like he’s happy for him.
Demon Dean proposing gruffly to Cas, citing ‘so I can annoy you forever’ as a reason for doing so, and this, as it turns out, is the last lie he tells himself because the wedding vows are so full of love and promises to cherish Cas that he can’t bring himself to negate those feelings any longer.
Imagine walking in on Sam while he’s getting dressed.
You had not planned for this to happen, much less intend it. You had not even imagined this would happen when all you wanted was to ask Sam what he wanted you to make for dinner. And you were that occupied thinking about everything that had been going on lately that you didn’t even think of knocking. On second thought though you really regretted it… and not.
You opened your mouth to speak but all words got caught in your throat and your mouth went dry. You blinked as your eyes were wide at what stood in front of you.
Or sort of. But he had his back turned to you and he couldn’t see how you were clearly staring at him. Your eye wereglued on his toned muscles of his back flexing as he dried his hair with a towel. Your eyes trailed up his arm and you bit your lip to keep yourself from letting out a shaky – dreamy sigh. As surprising as it sounded, even if you had known the boys for years, and lived with them just as many you had never walked in on any of them or seen them shirtless. But neither had them.
So it certainly was a sight for sore eyes to see that tanned back of Sam’s. You loved the way his shoulder moved and you trailed his spine with your eyes to the curve of his back. Gosh that curve was going to be your weak spot. Not that everything else of his already wasn’t. Yes you had feelings for him, but it was not something you were going to speak about anytime soon. Sam ruffled more his hair with the white towel, trying to dry them, turning just slightly to give you a sneak peek of that perfectly tones chest.
You were going to lie if you said that the mere sight of that tattoo on his chest wasn’t a turn on already. You bit your lip as you shamelessly checked him out. Alright, nobody could blame you: you loved the man. Maybe you were friends but yours feelings gave you every right to admire it all. His towel was over his eyes so he couldn’t see you standing there. But you were having a really hard moment not making your presence known at that second not just because of the sounds that threatened to leave your lips but also the fact that you wanted so bad to run your hands all over that body.
He turned his back again to you, taking the fluffy towel off his head and the minutes seemed to go by so slow when his other hand trailed down and took hold of the towel around his hips. You literally held your breath when he let the towel drop and you saw, well, the naked truth. Your breath itched on your throat at the sight that stood in front of you. And as if that wasn’t enough he was turning around now.
His eyes first found you though, making him jump, and jut before you could actually see it all you squeaked and covered your eyes. An almost inhuman sound left your lips and you heard him curse when he jumped and hit his foot.
“(Y/n)!” he exclaimed as you quickly turned around.
You felt your face heat up “I saw nothing! I swear!” you said in a high pitched voice and heard him let out a shaky sigh.
“You could have knocked.” he said, although he didn’t sound as angry as actually embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.” you squeaked out, no leaving any room for him to say more.
“No, (Y/n) wait-!” but he couldn’t utter more as you shut the door behind you. You rested your back against it for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest as your eyes were wide.
You tried to steady your breathing but couldn’t when you thought what you had actually seen. Because you had, and there was no unseeing that.