It’ll hurt, Cas tells him softly. It’s not easy doing this.
Dean nods. Dean nods, but his eyes are fierce with determination and Cas smiles fondly, because this is who Dean is. He isn’t surprised when he hears the words:
“Cas…get in my head.”
Around them, Sam and Mary and Bobby crowd around the table, but when Cas places his hands on Dean, Sam coughs and excuses himself. We don’t need to see this, Sam says and the others agree and trickle out the door. Maybe they’re tired of seeing Dean in pain, like Cas is tired of it, or maybe because ever since Dean came back, Cas hasn’t had a moment alone with him and Sam understands that.
Either way, Cas is grateful.
Dean shifts in his chair, and Cas places his hands on Dean’s shoulders, lets his hands linger up his neck to his head. He rests his hand on Dean’s cheek, and Dean turns his face, seeking the touch as if starved, and presses a kiss to Cas’ palm.
I missed you, Dean says.
Cas says, “Me, too.”
Clutching Dean’s shoulder with one hand, Cas delves into Dean’s mind.
Dean doesn’t scream. Most do, but Cas is as gentle as he can be, and while a whimper escapes his lips, he stays quiet otherwise. Cas rushes through memories—of Dean’s childhood, of broken dreams and hopes, of hell. Cas is afraid to push on, doesn’t want to see Michael lurking among the trees in purgatory, in places where Dean prayed each night, places where Cas did not dare answer him.
When it’s done, Dean pants and Cas places both hands on his head again, holds him steady, and Dean stays there a while, eyes closed.
“Your hand print,” he says and he looks down at his shoulder. It’s not the same side, Cas knows, but with relief nonetheless, Dean says, “You put it back.”
Cas nods, grits his teeth and feels his whole body buzzing.
“If he is in there,” Cas growls, now he knows that he cannot have you.
Sometimes I think Cu Chulainn wasn’t so unlucky in his own lifetime and then I remember the was pretty much forced to be a replacement guard dog and was forever known by the name “Culainn’s Dog” and he just sort of had to roll with it.
whoever you are, when that shirt arrives, you are officially the ONLY HUMAN IN EXISTENCE to own almaasi Destiel-fic merch. congrats. and thanK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH.
this was the shirt in question:
it’s the t-shirt from Cas’ old punk band, which he gives to Dean to wear in my fic The House That Wanted to Be a Garden. the rabbit and the band both go by the name of Punchin’ Munchkin. and THERE IS NOW A T-SHIRT BEING MADE SOMEWHERE ON THIS PLANET WITH ART I DREW THAT REPS A BAND FROM A DESTIEL STORY I WROTE
HOW UNBELIEVABLY COOL IS THAT
dear t-shirt buying human: I hope you love your shirt and it fits perfectly and you can go around secretly wearing Destiel fanart and never have to explain it to anyone unless you want to. may you always feel confident and powerful while wearing this shirt, and may all the good things happen to you.
why skamit wanna spoil ep3 so much when literally it’s when everything starts brewing and shit is starting to go down i know i sound like a hypocrite for saying this cause clearly i know what happens but them showing new clips takes away from the whole experience skam is known for and is just yikessss :((((
You know the painful thing about the ao3 discourse is that there could really be some valid good discussions to be had, but with all the passive aggressive sarcasm and kids who don’t even know what they’re on about it’s really fucking hard and honestly that’s just the case for every goddamn thing on this site I’m so tired
Teachers in school: When you go to law school, things aren’t going to be as easy and chill as they are now! The professors take their job’s very seriously.
My US common law professor: *with a paper plane in his hand* This is the airplane of knowledge. I am too lazy to pick one of you to answer, so whoever gets hit by the airplane of knowledge is going to answer the question.