Go Along With It by Lydiad13

Rating: Not Rated

Word Count: 1131

“Hi, so my ex-boyfriend just walked into the bar and I don’t want to look like a pathetic loser who hasn’t moved on yet, so, would you pretend to be my boyfriend for me? For like 5 minutes?”

All he gets in response is some angry looking eyebrows and a terse growled out “No” as Adonis walks away back to his table.

So i was hanging out with this girl I liked one time. And as we were laying in her bed just about to kiss for the very first time she just gets up and runs to her closet. So I’m just sitting there waiting and she grabs a stethoscope. And she comes back to the bed and places the stethoscope on her heart and gives me the ear peices. And she goes I want you to hear how fast my heart beats when you kiss me. And it was seriously the most beautiful thing. Moral of the story…everybody buy a stethoscope.
—  Andrea Gibson

“You’re not my brother.”

One moment Castiel had been gazing out of the Impala’s window, calm and at ease as he watched trees, and houses, and the other cars that were passing by. The next, Dean broke their comfortable silence to drop a bomb that instantly made Castiel feel nauseous and cold, his head turning so fast that it made him feel dizzy as he looked at Dean. 

All of these feelings, emotions that should be entirely too human for an angel to even feel them, were an unpleasant reminder of how far Castiel had fallen for this man. Dean’s eyes weren’t on the road, they were already on Castiel, and as soon as he had Castiel’s attention, he elaborated.

“I said that to you, a while ago, that you were our brother. It was a lie, Cas.”

He remembered it, them having a similar moment in this very car, just the two of them. It was months ago, at a time when the end of the world had seemed closer than on the average day. And even though Castiel’s feelings for Dean undoubtedly crossed the line of ‘brothers’, in Dean Winchester’s book, that was the most important title that someone could earn. Which is why Castiel had tried to ignore his disappointment at the term, because it at least meant that Dean cared deeply about him, and the angel could appreciate that for what it was.

But to hear him taking it back now, supposedly because the world hadn’t ended and Dean had only said it because he’d wanted to make Castiel feel better at the end of everything… That was possibly more agonizing than being stabbed with an angel blade.

“I see. I understand, Dean.” Castiel replied, almost mechanically, attempting to turn off his emotions, not wanting to give away how much this was truly affecting him. “You assumed that we were all going to die soon, and you saying it was a source of comfort for me back then, even if it isn’t true.”

Dean slammed the brakes so abruptly that Castiel had to hold on to his seat, then parked the car at the side of the road.

Castiel stared at him, wide-eyed. Dean was staring right back, conflict in his eyes, indicating that he was fighting some kind of internal battle.

“Look man, if I’m not going to say it now, I will never say it.” Dean muttered after a brief silence, speaking to himself rather than addressing Castiel, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath before looking Castiel in the eye again. “You’re not my brother, because you’re… You’re something else.”

“Your friend.” Castiel supplied coolly, not sure where this conversation was going. “I hope you at least consider me a friend.”

“Yes, of course I do!” Dean blurted out loudly, his tone bordering on hysteric. “Don’t ever think that you’re not my friend, or not part of the family. Sam thinks of you as his brother, it’s just that for me you’re also… You’re it. For me… You’re it. ”

Castiel blinked at Dean, stunned. Dean blinked back, not moving either. Did Dean mean…

“Oh…” Castiel whispered, praying that he wasn’t reading this wrong. “You mean I’m… it?”

Dean nodded, looking nothing short of relieved, those eyes that Castiel admired lighting up. “Yeah…”

“So by it, you mean…” Castiel didn’t finish that thought, but timidly reached for Dean’s hand.

When Dean welcomed it, calloused fingers covering Castiel’s slender ones, the angel cracked a smile.

“I’m not your brother.” He stated, his eyes never straying, holding Dean’s.

With a gentle smile, Dean leaned closer, experimentally pecking Castiel on the lips once he was close enough. Castiel rewarded him with a peck of his own, right at the corner of Dean’s mouth.

Dean smirked, already crawling to Castiel’s side of the car.

“No, Cas. You’re not.”

Dear Future Wife...#527

The first time we kiss, I’m going to be a nervous wreck. I’m not going to be even remotely suave. Even if you catch me totally off guard, I’ll find a way to get really nervous a split second before it happens. I know this because that’s how it has always been.

The second time we kiss, I’m going to be much less nervous. I’m going to make a joke about how suave I’m (not) being. And maybe you’ll laugh and I’ll miss because you’re laughing, but it won’t matter because then we’re both laughing and when we finally calm down, I get to feel your smile against my lips. I know this because I’m pretty hilarious and you’ll find that charming in a “I just rolled my eyes at how dumb and cute I find you” kind of way.

The first time we make out on the couch while we ignore an entire movie will the best day of my life up until that point. I’ll say some stupid thing like “I like television better anyways” when you point out we missed your favorite part and I will refuse to rewind because “I have better things to do.” I know this because I really do like television better and I will definitely have a better activity to dedicate my time and energy to at that moment.

A thousand and forty seven kisses later (but who’s counting?), you and I are crawling into bed after a day out with friends when we realize it’s only 9:42 and “what the hell is wrong with us?” But whatever, I have my arm around you and I’m mumbling nonsense trying to fight the heaviness of my eyelids and you’re right there with me. I know this because we might act like teenagers when we’re with our friends, but we love going home to the quiet with a cup of tea and an early bedtime.

Seven thousand and ninety two kisses later, our beautiful peaceful night’s rest is invaded at the crack of dawn by an adorable demon wedging herself in between us. Apparently it’s “totally the next day” and she’s in her dinosaur printed onesie and her 6 month old little brother told her “I could open up all the presents,” apparently by telepathy, because the younger pre-demon hasn’t yet grasped spoken word nor is he awake and screaming for attention. “That’s very generous of him,” you mumble from your side of the bed as I silently try to wrangle the beast into a bear hug. I know this because there’s no way the universe would give us a quiet, wise-beyond-her-years kid when karma is a thing that exists.