knows that Claire’s letter would be safest if secreted away, but he can’t
resist the urge to hold said letter open at every free chance he has, so to
read its contents again and again. The words are familiar by now, but in each
reading Castiel hopes to glean something new – of Claire’s true thoughts,
feelings, and fears; if there are other secret messages within that he’s
They’re on a road. A winding ribbon of highway never ending in the soft pitch of night.
Great evergreen trees are silhouetted on either side of them, blowing past with every mile the Impala swallows, hulking and ominous in the night.
They can see the moon out the windshield, a silvery Cheshire smile hanging in the sky, surrounded by thousands of tiny stars, glittering.
They’re on a road, and Castiel takes Dean’s hand. A practiced slide of fingers finding the spaces they belong between one another. It’s easy, and it’s subtle, and it’s normal. Dean smiles.
They’re at a diner. It’s the third day of a hunt. The smell of grease and old vinyl hangs heavy around them, and the menus are laminated and sticky. Sam is boxed up against the window - though he doesn’t seem to mind - and Cas is settled in next to him.
Sam’s on the phone. His hazel eyes grazing the menu as he listens to Charlie prattle on about a lead she found. He finds a corner of the menu where the lamination is beginning to weaken and picks at it. Dean watches him absently.
They’re at a diner, and Cas’ eyes find Dean’s across the table like they have so many times before. They’re soft, and endless, and nestled comfortably between deepening laugh lines.
“They have fresh cherry pie.” Castiel points out.
Dean’s chest feels tight. Even after all this time. “Yeah,” he says. And Cas smiles.
They’re in a scant motel room. Dean’s situated on the toilet seat while Cas busies himself with the first aid kit. The collar of Dean’s shirt is slick with blood, his or the vamp’s he isn’t sure, but if the concerned vee Cas’ brows have fallen into is anything to go by, Dean can probably wager a pretty educated guess.
The light hums overhead, dim and yellow, and the sharp smell of antiseptic fills the air as Castiel readies a cotton ball. He turns to Dean. Takes Dean’s chin between his fingers and tilts Dean’s head back.
“This may sting.” He states, unnecessarily. Dean nods, and Cas dabs at the wound just over Dean’s eye with his nose scrunched in concern, and fingers trembling.
When the wound is clean, and stitched, Castiel tapes gauze over it.
They’re in a scant motel room, and Cas cups Dean’s face in his hands. Brushes their lips together.
“I don’t like to see you hurt.” Cas mutters, thumbs stroking up and down Dean’s cheeks.
Dean shrugs. Casts a weak smile up at Castiel. “All part of the job, remember?”
Cas’ eyes go soft. “Perhaps we should consider alternative career paths.”
They’re at the bunker. Their room is dark, the sheets cool against their bare skin. Dean lays, melting into the memory foam, with his eyelids falling heavy, and Cas a warm line against his back.
Cas finds Dean’s neck with his lips, and Dean shudders.
They’re at the bunker, and Cas noses at the hairline along Dean’s neck, his arms curling tighter around Dean’s waist. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” He mutters into Dean’s skin.
Dean’s lips twitch at the corners, his brain clouding over with sleep. “I love you, Castiel Winchester.” He garbles back. And then he’s asleep.
Iiiii'm dreeeaming of a no-gnoooorm Destiel fiiiiic! Just like the ones I used to knooooo!
WELL THAT WAS QUICK
I don’t have much to offer in my drafts but the sad few opening sentences of Womb Kindred I’m still struggling to write blargh
as often as is required for a scion of a lordly family. Which is to say that he
makes himself available for family and communal prayer, and goes through all
the words and motions as is required of his role. For Dean, belief and prayer
are far from being in tandem; prayer is a performance, and most of that which
Dean believes in don’t need prayer for their shoring up.
however, times when Dean does pray with honesty. It’s only happened a handful
of times in his life, and he can add one more to the count today. This early
morning he’s kneeling in his tent, hands clasped and head bowed, his sword laid
out before him.
calm, like a field before the sowing, or a sea before a voyage.
As a young
man, Dean had oft dreamed of something such as this. Him the courtly knight,
and Castiel his sweetheart ready with a favor to be tied to Dean’s lance. There
is no lance today, but Dean does have a favor of sorts, in the kisses he still
feels on his mouth.
Sam is a little bit worried about Dean and Castiel.
When Dean had sat him down a few weeks back and said, “just so you know, me and Cas are a thing, so he’ll be staying in my room from now on”, Sam had been borderline overjoyed. Not only was he going to get the chance to make fun of his brother’s profound bond with his personal guardian angel (something he’d been wanting to do for years) but this meant that all the snarky, sexually frustrated bickering was going to stop and Dean and Castiel were going to start acting like normal human beings in love (well… a normal human being and a normal multi-dimensional wave of celestial intent) like they were supposed to.
But it’s been several weeks now, and the bickering hasn’t stopped. It hasn’t even gotten better.
The Monster at the End of This Book a 2015 DCBB by inplayruns @ AO3/Bexy rating: NC-17/E word count: ~126K
Pokemon AU. After the tragic destruction of his family, Dean Winchester settles down in a new city and attempts to make a new life for himself and his loyal, gregarious Vaporeon. When his job at a Pokemon nursery leads him to the man who saved his life a decade ago, Castiel, he’s stunned by the discovery – only to find that Cas doesn’t remember him at all. And that might only be the start of some real rot in the foundations of the whole damn world.
“And to end the night, we have a special request from one of the grooms! Will the newlyweds please proceed to the dance floor?”
Dean looks up from where he’d been talking with Bobby and Ellen, confused. He didn’t make any special requests of the DJ (well, beyond “play some classic rock”), so that means-
Cas is stepping out onto the dance floor, a nervous, hopeful expression on his face. Dean, of course, can’t refuse his fiance (husband, he corrects himself giddily) anything. He tries not to feel too self conscious as he walks onto the dance floor, but he’s keenly aware of all eyes in the room on them.
Dean sees Charlie and Sam out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them look surprised; Charlie even flashes him a quick thumbs-up. Dean shoots them a smile before turning his focus to Cas.
“Another dance?” Dean asks lightly, smile turning soft so Cas knows Dean doesn’t mind. Dancing might not be his thing (especially not in public), but hell, it’s his wedding. He’s drunk on happiness and a surprisingly small amount of champagne; he can dance if he wants to.
Cas’s lips twitch up in a small smile, though tension still deepens the lines at the corner of his eyes. Dean reaches up and cups Cas’s face with one hand, soothing the lines with his thumb.
“I heard this song a few weeks ago,” Cas says. “I know we’d already picked the song for the first dance, but I heard it and…” His voice trails off as he leans into Dean’s touch.
The music is starting, slow violins and piano. Dean’s not a big fan of slow dances as a rule, but he’s curious to hear what song it is that reminded Cas of them so much that he wanted it as their last dance of the night.
Cas lays a hand gently on Dean’s hip and grabs Dean’s hand with the other. Dean’s hand slides over Cas’s cheek and comes to rest on his shoulder as the lyrics start.
They move, Cas leading because of the two of them, he actually knows how to waltz. Dean follows well enough, eyes on Cas’s hopeful expression as he listens to the music.
His breath catches.
He can see why Cas thought of them when he heard this song. Dean listens as the singer softly croons about offering protection, company. Love.
Always together, always honest. Maybe they’d failed that in the past, but no more. The rings on their fingers was proof of that commitment. Everything they’d been through, and they had ended up here, together, the happiest Dean could ever remember being.
‘One love, one lifetime’.
Dean dips his head and kisses Cas, unable to help himself. It’s a silent ‘yes’, a reaffirmation of the vows they’d made not hours ago. Cas responds enthusiastically in kind. Dean tastes saltwater and he’s not sure whose eyes are leaking so he presses closer to Cas, either to block him from the onlookers or to hide himself from their gaze.
This is a moment just for the two of them, an acknowledgement of all the darkness they’d fought through to finally arrive at this place of peace, this space they’d carved out for themselves despite all the odds against them.
Each day spent with Cas at his side. Each night with Cas next to him in their bed. Each morning, waking up to see Cas still there.
Strange, how simple happiness suddenly seemed. How easy, how attainable, when for the longest time Dean had thought that happiness was so far out of reach.
“This is all I ask of you, Dean,” Cas whispered in Dean’s ear as the song ended.
Dean kissed him again with all the tenderness he could muster as the song drew to a close, this time knowing the salt in the kiss was coming from his own eyes.