human cas

castielanangelofthelordsupernatu replied to your post: “12.13 coda”

This was really good. So you have any long fics? I’d love to read them.

I do, in fact! You can find all of my longer stuff on my ao3 account. For a place to start, I’d recommend my 2016 DCBB fic, Survival of the Fittest, or my series The Laundromat ‘Verse, if you have the stamina. 

I’ll be posting something new on my ao3 very soon in fact, so keep your eyes peeled! (I hope you like 20k of angel!Dean x human!Cas.)

Hope you have fun! <3

I swear my parents don’t know if I’m satanic or a religious freak.

-I have devil traps all over my room
-Wear an anti possession bracelet
-talk about how cool lucifer was
But then I:
-Can name 20 different Angels
-I could do an exorcism in less then a minute
-And can explain the relationship between Michael and lucifer with exquisite detail.

But what my parents don’t understand is I’m neither I just watch supernatural.

Consider: Cas removes his grace to become human and live out a mortal life with Dean - and then someone steals the grace.

“I don’t need it back,” Cas says.

“Still. It’s not safe to leave it out there in the world in the hands of God knows who. We need to get it back,” Dean says, and they set off to find it.

Dean believes that Cas will, one day, take back his grace. Angels weren’t built to die. He won’t blame Cas for being afraid.

The thief trails across the country and back again - they’re good at slipping out of reach and hiding and running, they’re very good, but they’re not quite good enough. Eventually Dean and Cas catch up to them in a big old warehouse in Wyoming. Cas goes in first, tells Dean to sneak around the back in case they need some surprise on their side.

“It’s over,” Cas says, when he sees the thief - they stand in darkness, face barely visible.

“Is it?” says the thief, raising their fist - clasped in it, a shining glass vial. They uncurl their fingers, pinching it only between finger and thumb, threatening to drop it. “Even when I have the most precious thing to you in the world, right here in my hand?”

Cas blinks, seeing Dean emerging out of the darkness, his eyes on Castiel.

Cas smiles.

“No,” he says, meeting Dean’s gaze. “You don’t.”

Cas throws his angel blade in a spin, cracking the thief on the crown of the head with the hilt even as Dean snatches for the grace - misses it - watches the vial fall to the ground, and smash.

Dean’s on his knees, hands trying to gather up grace even though it’s smoke and sunlight in his palms, when Cas puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave it,” he says. There’s something in his voice that makes Dean’s shoulders fall slack and easy, puts the breath back in his lungs.

They go home. Cas holds Dean’s hand for most of the drive. He isn’t worried or dismayed. God only knew what was waiting for him after death - he has no choice there, no control. The only thing he can decide is what to do with his life.

He squeezes Dean’s hand, and Dean glances at him, grins. Cas smiles in reply.

He has made a good choice.

I like the idea of Cas getting really into crafting when he’s human. He’s going through a lot of shit and he’s tried drowning it with alcohol and drugs but Dean and Sam aren’t having that.

So he’s left with gardening, knitting, crafting.

So he makes scarves for Sam and Dean that they wear dutifully whenever the weather gets cold, despite the fact that the scarves are lopsided and only done in bright colors.

He has such a big garden that they’re overwhelmed with tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, peppers. Cas shows no interest in cooking though, so Sam and Dean take turns cooking giant meals trying to get rid of all the produce.

Cas makes jewelry, bright, fun things that he gives to Sam and Dean, so that the hunters are always wearing something.

Sometimes Dean gets weird looks about his bright yellow scarf or his bracelet made of multi-color beads shaped like elephants, but he just smiles and happily tells anyone who will listen that his boyfriend made it, and isn’t it cool?

3

My grace is gone. What did you expect? Do you have any idea how hard it was? When I fell to earth, I didn’t just lose my powers. I– I had nothing. Now I’m a sales associate.

(Angel Cas, Emmanuel, Godstiel, Leviathan Cas, Endverse Cas, Honey Bee Cas, Puragtory Cas, Bunker Cas, Agent Cas, Homeless Cas - Clarence, ALL!!)

Coming Home to Me

On the day they met, Dean Winchester is four years old.  Emblazoned on the front of his light blue teddy T-shirt are the words I Wuv Hugz, and everyone who’s ever met Dean can verify the accuracy of this statement.

Everyone who’s ever met his new neighbor, Castiel Novak, knows the opposite is true.  It’s 1983, and though terms like Asperger’s Syndrome and touch aversion have yet to seep into public consciousness, Cas had been sure to convey his displeasure to anyone who’s ever tried to hug him without his explicit consent.

As such, both the boys’ parents watch with considerable apprehension as Dean toddles up to the newcomer, ready to bestow upon him the signature Winchester greeting. 

He throws his pudgy arms around Castiel’s slight shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as his little body will allow. 

Castiel’s haggard single mother, Naomi, squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the ear-splitting wail that is sure to follow.  To her surprise, there is none.  

Instead, when she dares to look again, Cas is, for the first time in his short life, expressing physical affection, his thin arms wrapped delicately around Dean’s shoulders.  

In a voice so soft no one but Dean can hear it, Castiel murmurs, “Hello, Dean.” 

It’s now 1988.

Dean Winchester is nine years old, down a parent, and up a…well, he’s hesitant to refer to Cas as like a brother, though adults in his life have described it as such.  It just feels wrong to him, for reasons he has yet to put his finger on. 

Regardless, Cas has become remarkably close, mostly because his mother – a single parent, struggling to make ends meet – is almost never home.  As his closest neighbors and closest friends, Cas ends up spending more time at the Winchesters’ house than he does at his own.  

Dean still wuvs hugz, though he’s now less willing to admit to such, and Cas, miracle of all miracles, still never fails to return them.  Indeed, Dean is one of the few people Cas will willingly touch.

At present, the boys are cuddled up on Dean’s lower bunk while young Sammy snoozes above them, a rerun of the Three Stooges buzzing on Dean’s fuzzy, black-and-white TV set.  

99% of the time, Cas doesn’t understand the humor, fails to see the amusement in watching three people brutalize one another.  But he enjoys hearing Dean laugh, the feel of his warm breath against the back of his neck.  It makes him feel comforted.  

It makes him feel home. 

Contentedly, Cas closes his eyes.  He’s just drifting off when he hears Dean say, “Oh.  Hi, Daddy.” 

For some reason, he sounds nervous.  

When Cas blinks open his eyes, he sees why:  John is standing in the doorway, glowering at them, a strange sort of contempt darkening his glassy eyes.  He’s yards away from them, leaning in the doorless entryway to the boys’ room, but Cas can smell the pungent stench of alcohol wafting off of him.

“You boys’re too old to be doin’ that,” is all he mutters, before staggering away and leaving the confused duo with the vague but pervasive sense that they’ve done something wrong.  

Cas glances over at Dean, who’s now worrying his lower lip and won’t meet his eyes.  

Cas pats his hand.  “My mommy smells that way when she gets sad,” he offers. 

For some reason, it seems to help.

It’s now 1996, and in that very same room, the boys are having a slumber party.  Of course, they’re not allowed to call it a slumber party, because they’re boys over the age of twelve, and rules of social conduct dictate that it be called hanging out.

But, essentially, it was a slumber party.

Cas skipped a grade, while Dean was held back one, and as such, they haven’t seen as much of one another as either party would have liked.  

Still, Dean is popular, and surprisingly, so is Cas:  yes, he’s undeniably nerdy and not a little weird, but there’s an inherent niceness to him that makes him a pleasant person to be around.

Dean has had the pleasure of witnessing this all evening, as Cas interacts with Charlie, with Gabe, with Kevin and Garth and Benny, and even the little gray mixed breed that recently followed Sam home.  Regardless of what is being said, Cas listens to each of them with his undivided attention, head nodding, blue eyes wide with interest. 

Dean is content, for once, to quietly observe, witnessing his friend for the first time through the others’ eyes.

Later that night, however, when they line the floor like sleeping caterpillars in their multicolored sleeping bags, Dean once again has Cas all to himself, facing one another in the bunk they’d shared all those years ago.  

There’s a flutter in their chests that wasn’t there before, a not-entirely-unpleasant sensation that neither one can place. 

Years later, Dean won’t remember what it was Cas was saying.  He’ll only remember the soft, gravelly rasp of his voice, his crystalline blue eyes as they stared so intently into his own.  

He’ll remember how soft his chapped, full lips felt as he found himself kissing them, the tickle of his faint stubble.

He’ll remember the instant he pulled away, and the long moment in which they just silently stared, a million wordless protests racing through their minds:  it’s the mid-nineties, and the heat of the AIDs epidemic is still fresh in the public’s memory.  It’s by no means a good time to be gay, or anything close it.

More than anything, he’ll remember the exact moment he decided he didn’t care, that nothing in the world mattered more than having Castiel’s lips against his own.

He’ll remember the instant Cas silently agreed with him when he kissed back. 

It’s 2002. 

Cas is going to medical school.  Sam is going to college. 

Dean is going overseas.  

In the end, he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter:  he never had gotten his high school diploma, weighed down by the burden of being his family’s full-time emotional (and ultimately, financial) provider. 

He’d tried so hard to juggle the two, coming home straight after school everyday to clean up and make dinner, to fill the role his mother had vacated when she’d died of cancer years before, and helping Sammy with his homework every evening before he even got started on his own.

He eventually had to give up and drop out of school entirely when John left them, and he had to get a full time job at his Uncle Bobby’s garage just to make ends meet.

But never once had Dean given up on the hope of making his life meaningful, of helping others and saving lives. 

When he was younger, he’d wanted to go to nursing or medical school, perhaps become a paramedic, but as a high school flunky with five bucks to his name, this option is out for the time being. 

So really, his only option is overseas.

Cas knew this, and he knows he should have prepared himself better.  Yet this does little to stop the tears from falling as he holds his fiance’s hands, freshly gifted engagement rings glinting in the evening sun.

Dean smiles that goofy, crooked smile, puts on a brave face as he wipes the tears away.  

“Hey, now,” he says, chuckling painfully.  “Ain’t we talked about this, angel?  You know I don’t do chick-flick moments.”

Cas smiles faintly, nearly argues that Dean loves chick-flicks and they both know it, but he finds he doesn’t have it in him for their usual, lighthearted banter.  

“Promise me you’ll come home,”  he says instead.  

For a moment, Dean’s facade falters, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.  Still, his smile remains fixedly – painfully – in place.  

“I promise, angel,” he whispers.

Eighteen months later, Dean comes home.  Or rather, most of him does.  

They’ll both realize, with time, that Dean lost a part of himself overseas, and it wasn’t just the tip of his now-stubby left pinky finger that he’ll forever use to give Sam wet willies for maximum gross-out factor.  It wasn’t just the majority of the flesh of his left arm and ribcage, that took the brunt of the damage when the bomb went off, the drum-tight, pinkish scar tissue there to remind him whenever he examines himself shirtless in the bathroom mirror.

It’s something intangible, that will make itself evident the first time he ushers Cas away from their bedroom window, mind already anticipating the crackle of bullets and the shattering of class.  The first time he wakes up, heart pounding, to the crashing of a garbage truck or early summer fireworks, every instinct screaming for him to find shelter.  

Dean knows he lost something overseas, a part of himself he’ll never fully be able to recover.

But he’ll be okay.  They both will.  

In time, he’ll finally get his GED.  He’ll go to community college, and then, to nursing school, finally able to fulfill his dream of saving lives, helping others in his own way.  

He and Cas will get married in the fall, and though it will take years of convincing on Cas’s end, convincing that Dean will not become a replica of his father, they’ll have kids:  Claire and Ben, adopted two years apart.  Dean will be startled by how completely they feel like his own.  

They’ll be okay.  In spite of it all, they’ll be okay.  Life will go on, and it will be a good one.

But for now, all that matters is here at the airport, searching the crowd for that messy head of raven hair he knows is waiting for him.  

His heart skips a beat when he finally spots it.  

The years have been good to Castiel.  His shoulders visibly broader beneath his usual beige trench, a veritable sea of stubble framing the familiar, chapped lips.  Eyes, somehow bluer than Dean remembered them, widened when they met his own.  

Dean swallowed.  Make no mistake, Cas had always been gorgeous, but now…damn.

For a moment, the two just stare at each other, neither sure what to say.  

Finally, Dean chuckles wetly.  “Angel,” he huffs, with his best attempt at a cocky smile.  “You’re…you’re all grown up.”

Castiel says nothing.  Wordlessly, he moves forward, strong arms enveloping Dean’s shoulders.  Dean rests his head in the crook of his neck, breathing in a shaky, relieved breath as he feels the familiar prickle of stubble, taking in the clean, soapy scent he hadn’t known how much he’d missed.  It makes him feel comforted.  

It feels like home. 

A soft, gravelly voice rasps gently in his ear,  “Hello, Dean.”                  

3

What if you were to find out that no one is listening? That God had pretty much left, that Heaven had gone out of business? What would you do?

(Angel Cas, Emmanuel, Gas n Sip ‘Steve’, Godstiel, Leviathan Cas, Endverse Cas, Honey Bee Cas, Puragtory Cas, Bunker Cas, Agent Cas, ALL!!)

Imagine Teaching Human!Cas How to Shower

Author’s Note: I love the though of Cas not knowing mundane human things. For real though, did someone teach Cas how to shower? How does he keep his vessel looking so fresh and clean? I need some answers SPN. - Haley xx 


The hunt went from good to bad to worse in a matter of seconds. The vampire nest was infested and right after you sliced one’s head off, another came up from behind and cut down your arm. Cas killed it before it could feed off of you or turn you.

Cas helped you back to the impala and held you in his lap all the way back because of how bad you were shaking. You didn’t notice Cas had got his chest sliced opened, so when everyone stumbled into The Bunker, his white button down was now matted to his chest from yours, his, and vampire blood.

“I’ll patch up Sam, you go see if your boyfriend needs any help,” Dean said.

You nodded your head and pulled Cas into your bathroom. “Cas, it’s probably better to shower before I see if you need stitched up, so go ahead and hop in,” you nodded at the shower.

He looked at the shower before looking back at you and slowly saying, “How do I actually use a shower?”

“You’ve never took a shower before?” Cas shook his head. “Strip down.”

You turned on the water and let Cas change out of his dirty clothes. Cas stepped in and you undressed fast and got in a few seconds later. He was staring at the water, his back to you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and Cas blushed. “Should we be showering together?”

“A lot of couples do,” you smiled. “Put your head under the water.”

You watched Cas do as you said and he smiled. “Feels quite nice.” He turned around and you gasped at the wound on his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, running your hand close the irritated skin.

“I am fine,” Cas said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I had to make sure you were okay. You were scared when the hunt was over. How is your arm?”

“I’m fine, but you’re not an angel anymore, Cas. You have to tell me if you get hurt,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, lifting your chin up and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “I will next time.”

“Good,” you whispered back.

Cas smiled. He grabbed a bottle from your shower rack and squinted at it. “How are all these chemicals supposed to clean my vessel? This makes no sense.”

You laughed and grabbed it from him. “I’m not sure, Cas. I just know they work.”

You showed Cas the difference between shampoo and conditioner and why different soaps are just all around better. Cas accidental emptied out half of your shaving cream all over the shower walls when trying to figure it out. In the end, you and Cas both smelled of strawberries.

“I like smelling like you,” Cas said. You should him how to properly wrapped a towel around his waist so it wouldn’t fall down and expose himself to the entire world. You sat on top of your bathroom counter, a towel wrapped you as well, finishing stitching up Cas. “Strawberry is a nice scent. We should shower together more.”

“I’m glad you found it enjoyable,” you giggled.

“Of course I did,” Cas said. “I was with you.”

“C’mere, Cas, you dumbass. You’re human now, you can’t just walk around in a storm dressed like that.”

Destiel Christmas Mini Bang;
Prompt: scarf

Sadly, my lovely writer partner, @snowingdean, had to drop out, but I’m gonna post this art based on the amazing ideas they gave me anyway!

100 Ways To Say “I Love You” No. 18

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Requested  by @queen-icicle-fandom 

[AO3]  Canon divergent, human!Cas, sick!Cas, bunker fluff.


Cas was usually grumpy in the mornings, but nothing could compare it to that morning. The one where Cas shuffled into the kitchen, nose red and tissues spilling out of his hands.

“I hate everything.” He grumbled.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” Dean quipped from behind his coffee cup.

In return, Dean only received a glare that could smite a hundred people – if Cas were still an angel anyway.

Cas had caught a cold and had been suffering for the past few days but today seemed to be the peak of it.

“Everything hurts, Dean. Is being human supposed to hurt this much?” Dean pursed his lips at Castiel’s words.

No doubt he was achy and out of breath, sore-nosed and sniffly, Dean wasn’t fond on the common cold either.

“It’s just a cold, Cas. It’ll clear up soon.” Dean told him, he filled the kettle and set it to boil before pulling out a cold and flu drink that was sure to help relive him of some of his symptoms.

Soon enough water was boiled and the smell of eucalyptus and blackcurrant filled the small kitchen. He set the steaming mug in front of Castiel and squeezed his shoulder.

“Here, drink this. You’ll you feel better.” He pressed a kiss to Castiel’s temple making a small smile form on Castiel’s lips as he took a tentative sip and breathed in the steam.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Castiel drained his cold and flu drink as soon as it was deemed cool enough to be drinkable and smiled. Already he could breathe better through his nose and wasn’t sneezing every five seconds. His was still achy and felt cold despite the warm clothing he had on.

“Go sit on the couch, we’ll watch a movie.” Dean told him, holding out his hand for Cas to take.

Cas nodded and stood up, letting himself be led by Dean wards their movie room and landed heavily on the couch, joints aching until he found a suitable position.

Dean joined him again moments later, large blanket in hand and an orange.

“Don’t tell Sam, but this blanket is the best thing in this bunker – apart from you of course.”

Castiel blushed a little and Dean sat down on the couch, pulling Cas against him and curling the blanket around them.

The movie started, some old western, and Castiel sighed into Dean’s chest. Dean’s arm tightened around him and they both settled into the film.

Despite still being morning, Cas dropped off to sleep again and Dean could hear Cas’ breath rattle a little in his chest. He was warming up though, which was a good thing. It wasn’t the best start into being human but he’d get Cas through his cold and hopefully back on his feet and possibly hunting again soon before they knew it.

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