I thought I saw the devil, this morning
Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue
With the warning to help me see myself clearer
I never meant to start a fire,
I never meant to make you bleed,
I'll be a better man today. [x]
Whatever you do, don’t even think about Dean singing Hey Jude to his baby girl for the first time in her life.
Don’t think about how he’d hold her close - even though she’s fussy - cradled in his big stong arms and stare down into her watery eyes with all the love in his heart.
Don’t think about the lump that would form in his throat as he rocks her, only humming the tune at first because actually singing the words is too much. But then the levee breaks, something about the way his baby girl stares up at him like he’s the whole world, and he finally begins to sing the words. Voice cracking and hands shaking.
He hasn’t listened to the song since his mom died, couldn’t ever bring himself to, but now, singing the words to his little girl makes him feel closer to Mary than he has in over thirty years.
Don’t think about the baby’s tiny fingers coming to curl around Dean’s pointer finger, her eyelids drooping and her little rosebud lips parting as the tension eases out of her.
Don’t think about a single tear rolling down Dean’s cheek as he smiles down at her sleeping form.
And absolutely do not think about Cas watching it all from the doorway, quiet, and aching, and proud.
deancas au with reclusive beekeeper!cas who advertises a room in his ramshackle farmhouse and dean moves in and spends like two weeks tripping over loose floorboards and sneezing because of all the pollen and finding jars of honey in weirdass places like the bathroom cabinet and under his bed so he convinces cas to start working on the house bit-by-bit and then cas gets really into it and they make many very stressful trips to the home depot and argue over paint swatches (fuck if dean knows the difference between buttercup and citrus zest) and let’s not forget the time dean dropped a power drill on his foot because cas crept up on him and shoved a pottery barn catalog in his face
but then something shifts between them as they’re hammering nails into the new porch and stripping the ancient wallpaper in the living room and installing new faucets in the kitchen and dean’s pretty sure he’s falling in love with this weird dorky dude with sex hair and a neck he wants to suck hickeys into so one day he just presses cas up against the wet paint and touches their foreheads together and tangles their fingers and then kisses him and cas kisses back and they’re probably leaving an ass print on the wall but neither of them can bring themselves to care
okay okay okay this is the official one now please ignore the previous bad quality one that might be circulating
The dwarves and gandalf cracked the co-ode, we’re trekking on our way to go check out Mirkwood but Tauriel and Legolas know what the dwarves want back - it’s a suicide mission
but either way they’re like gold ring, grey beard trippin’ on the mushrooms smaug gettin angsty, trashin’ golden treasure room we don’t care we got to lonely mountain ‘cross the lake and everybody’s like Mountains, dwarf mines, meeting bard the bowman, Barrel rapids, rock paths, Elves and dwarves in tandem we don’t care Yeah we’re gonna go and break in there
‘cause we’re going to Lake Town (lake town) that dickhead dragon’s time is up the treasure mountain isn’t his, we’re getting back the dwarf king’s biz Thorin’s gonna be ruler (ruler) rollin’ in a golden sea and Smaug is such a tool, such a tool, such a tool, such a tool, Yeah we’re livin’ in a fantasy
I’ve never seen an orc horde in the flesh They cut their teeth on iron swords in the valleys They work at Saruman’s behest In a big tower, with talkin’ tree neighbours
but every day’s like Gold ring, grey beard, trippin’ on the mushrooms Blood-mad Nazgul trashin’ the hotel room We don’t care We got to Rivendell across the stream and everybody’s like Mountains, dwarf mines, presents from the Elf Queen, Rowboats, rock paths, Gollum on a rope leash we don’t care Yeah we’re simply gonna walk in there
Cuz we’re going to mordor (mordor) Drop the ring in magma That kind of hex just ain’t for us Gollum craves that magic buzz Sauron isn’t our ruler (ruler) Aragorn is queen bee and Sauron ain’t cool, ain’t cool, ain’t cool, ain’t cool yeah we’re living in a fantasy
o-oh, oh oh, the walk was longer than i ever dreamed I got a lightbulb from the Elfin Queen o-oh, oh oh, life is great without a care, I wish I was at home in my arm chair
'Cause we’re going to mordor (mordor) drop the ring in magma that kind of hex just ain’t for us gollum craves that magic buzz, Thorin’s gonna be ruler (ruler) rollin’ in a golden sea and smaug is such a tool, such a tool, such a tool, such a tool,
“we’re the only ones who didn’t get the email about class being canceled” au
Castiel was having a bad morning. Well he was having a bad week in general but today was clearly in competition for the worst day of the month so far.
First of all he had woken up late thanks to his alarm not going off. Secondly he couldn’t find any clean clothes he deemed respectable so he ended up wearing one of those band t-shirts his brother had given him in the hopeless attempt to make seem cool. Finally his favourite coffee shop was shut due to a pipe bursting so he had to make do with crappy campus coffee.
Now his was stood in front of the classroom to his first lecture of the day, Classic American Literature, feeling less than awake and vaguely like some pretentious music hipster who hung out in the art department. Also he seemed to be the only one here which was odd seeing as the class started in five minutes.
Scratch that, he was one of two people stood outside the seemingly empty classroom. Dean Winchester came barreling down the hallway and stopped about three feet away from Castiel. Since the start of class three months ago Castiel and Dean had exchanged one sentence which went thusly:
“Can I borrow a pencil?”
And that was that. Now Dean stood in front of him panting slightly from his run.
“Fuck I need to get in shape.” Dean said more to himself than Castiel. Castiel wasn’t going to remark that from where he was stood Dean looked pretty in shape. “No one here yet?” He then asked. It took Castiel a moment to realise Dean was talking to him.
“What? Oh…no. No one is here yet.”
“Thank fuck, thought I was gonna be late. Slept through my alarm.”
“I did the same.”
“Yeah and Java The Hut is shut-”
“Pipe burst, I know. I go there every morning. I had to make do with this.” Castiel said holding up his crappy campus coffee.
“Huh…I’m there most mornings too. Wonder why I’ve never seen you. I would have ‘hi’ if I had.” Dean said. Castiel wondered if Dean was actually being sincere or if he was just making conversation but either way he appreciated it.
Glancing at his watch he saw that the class was about to start and still it was only him and Dean there. Strange. Swiftly he pulled out his phone and sent a message to his friend Charlie who was also in the class. Her reply was almost instantaneous.
Charlie Bradbury - Dude class was cancelled. Prof Singer has the flu. Didn’t you get the email?
Castiel - No, I woke up late and didn’t check it. Stood outside the classroom looking like a fool.
Charlie Bradbury - Wouldn’t be the first time. I’m gonna spend the day in Moondor. Burgers later?
Castiel - Of course. Text later.
“It seems as though the class has been cancelled. The professor is sick.” Castiel said to Dean who swore loudly.
“Man this was my only class today a as well. I got up and didn’t even get breakfast.”
“Same actually, I’m rather hungry.” Castiel admitted.
“Wanna grab something in town? There’s this diner that does wicked pancakes. Swimming in bacon and syrup.” Dean said with a wide grin.
“You would want to get breakfast with me?” Castiel asked with surprise.
“Well yeah, sure…that’s if you don’t have any other plans of course.” Dean said quickly. Castiel shook his head. “Great.” Dean said as his grin widened more so. “Let’s get going then.”
The lighter clicks and hisses as Dean ignites his third cigarette of the hour. He inhales as much as he can, holds it in his lungs until it bursts out of him in a hazy cloud that makes his eyes sting while it fades away in the cold winter air.
He doesn’t want to go back inside, where the walls of his childhood home are more oppressive than they ever have been, where the atmosphere is thick and cloying, more suffocating than the cigarette smoke.
So he doesn’t. He stands on the porch instead.
He’s been to funerals before, and they were never like this. Never so stifling. More finger food and drunken reminiscing, less uncomfortable silence because no one is really that cut up about the whole thing.
It’s probably fucked up, that Dean isn’t sad his dad just died.
He can’t bring himself to care.
The door creaks open behind him and Cas steps out. Scruffy bastard’s actually shaved and put on a suit for once. It fits him well. Dean’s been thinking it all day.
Cas gives him a look, then comes forward and pats down Dean’s jacket until he finds the pocket with the coveted cigarettes. He fishes them out, holds them up accusingly. “These are mine.”