Lily starts dating James Potter in early September.
It lasts three weeks.
She gently breaks up with him after he rearranges his entire
class schedule—changing his proposed majorfrom Criminal Justice to Discrete
Mathematics in the process—so that he can ‘spend more time with Sirius’.
James seems genuinely upset by the news.
“Is this about Sirius?” he bleats, slouching into the truly
ridiculous depths of his burgundy leather couch. “Because the cuddling—it’s,
like, super fucking no homo, okay,
there are hand checks and a bro code and the bro code clearly states that
morning wood is, like, subconscious,
right, you can’t blame us for—”
Abruptly, he cuts himself off, squinting at a platinum Crate
& Barrel candlestick like it might tell him exactly what was wrong with literally everything he’d just said.
This is a small, untitled ficlet (~1.5 k) for @thevioletcaptain, happy birthday! I was going to post this to AO3, but I realised my DeanCas Pinefest fic is going to be based on this, so I won’t. Inspired by Misha in his director outfit.
The angels had left, not a single one of them was still on Earth. Dean supposed he should drink to good riddance, but a part of him wanted to cry over his best friend. A half-full bottle of vaguely brownish rotgut should be able to help him either way. “This is to you, Cas,” he said as he lifted his glass. “The one who’s not a dick.”
“Who are you talking to?” Sam asked. Dean was prepared to roll his eyes, when he saw Cas standing behind Sam.
“I thought you had left with your dick brothers.” Cas held out a bottle, filled with his shining blue grace. “Oh,” Dean said, voice suddenly small. He wanted to ask so many questions, but couldn’t get a single word out.
“Yes. I chose humanity.”
Suddenly, Dean could see how Cas’ angel uniform was torn and dirty. “They didn’t let you go easy, did they?” Cas just smiled in reply, a barely there twitch of the side of his mouth. The roller coaster of Dean’s emotions finally caught up, and he smiled back, glad to have Cas there with them. “Will you…” He cleared his throat. “Will you stay?”
“It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.” The disappointment must have shown on Dean’s face, because Cas continued. “Yes, I chose to stay with you. If you’ll have me.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Sam said, his hand clasped on Cas’ shoulder. “You’re part of the family now.” It was true, and somehow, it was not.
Dean grabbed Baby’s keys, and set out for the garage. “Come on, we gotta get you into some real clothes. Hunters’ clothes.”
“You guys go, I’ll set up a room for him,” Sam said.
“Don’t bother with the bed. I’m getting you memory foam, buddy! It remembers you!”
The drive to Hastings was silent. Dean had so much to say, but couldn’t get it past his lips. Cas looked at him, and looked back out the side window. Finally, he started to talk. “Are you disappointed in me?”
“You’ve been silent all this time. I’m starting to think you’d have wanted me to leave with the rest of the angels.”
“Don’t be an idjit, Cas. Of course I want you around. You know, it’s just me and the talking and the whole feelings crap—” He might have said too much. Abort, abort!
“Of course,” Cas replied. Dean could feel his smirk more than he could see it.
“Shut up, Cas.”
There was not much left of Jimmy Novak’s Sunday best style when Cas picked his own clothes, but he didn’t go full hunter. He chose a wild variety of stuff. Bulky sweaters, most of them with cartoon characters, one of them with bees. (“Bees, Dean! We’d die without them!”) Mostly jeans, but also sweatpants. (“I learned how important comfort is the last time I was human.”) A simple Fed style suit. Plain t-shirts, a size too small, but Dean didn’t correct him. A few plaid shirts, though most of them dressy plaid button downs rather than hunter’s plaid. And the real killer, a slim, soft gray sweater with leather elbow patches. It made him look like a professor, just the glasses missing. Which reminded Dean… “Hey, you seem to be squinting a lot. Maybe we should get your eyes tested.”
Cas wasn’t nearsighted, but he was in the body of a forty something man, and he needed reading glasses. The ones he picked were cheap and sturdy, with thick black plastic frames, and they nearly killed Dean.
However, when they were going to pick up a mattress for delivery, Cas had declined, saying he wanted to get used to sleeping first. They did pick up a memory foam pillow, and Cas had napped all the way back to the bunker, with that pillow scrunched up against the side window. Dean couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, bigger and bigger until he looked like the Joker. Something in his chest was bursting with joy over that dork with his elbow patches and his eighties glasses. Dean turned up the volume and drove back home slower than he needed to.
I got a huge hunter green cardigan w leather elbow patches from this rly cute place in lake placid today nd they let you choose your own iron-on patch to put on so I got my initials nd it’s so cute I can’t wait for fall now
On the second or third week after I moved to New York City for grad school, I was at a bar with a bunch of peeps when one of my new grad school classmates asked me, “So, do you like girls or do you like guys?” And I said, Well, I guess it depends, but generally speaking, I like girls, but I like like guys. You know, like, I like hanging out with girls, but I like hanging out with guys.
Liam stood at the front of the class, his glasses askew and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t look like the typical history teacher. No jacket with leather elbow patches, no white hair at his temples. It was why the students loved him. “At Bosworth field, Richard III was cut down and the crown ripped from his head. Lord Stanley held the crown aloft, placing the bloodied gold on the head of Henry Tudor who would begin the Tudor dynasty… “ He paused in his lecture at the sound of the classroom door swinging open, fixing a disappointed gaze on the student who was trying to slip in unnoticed. “You’re late. Take a seat at the front of the class, we will discuss your need to be truant after the bell.”