anonymous asked:

fic with bottom!dean where cas is really dominating and rough but in a passionate tender kind of way??? like cas gets super turned on by seeing dean so submissive and just proper goes for it and takes what he wants but deans loving every second of it pleasepleaseplease ily <3

/all i can say is that maybe putting off writing for a few days did me some good because this is fresh and i kinda like it and i dont know if that’s only because its 2:30 in the morning or because its actually good but have fun, enjoy it/ 

The first thing Cas notices when he becomes permanently human is his hunger for touch. It’s a rough itch just beneath his skin, one that he can scratch, one that he scratches far too often, to the point where he just can’t stop. Too touch as a human is different, he finds, without the barrier of his grace it is much like touching lightning.

He first learns this when he touches Dean. How very fitting, he thinks, that the man he traded Heaven for is the man to bless him with this realization. He’s gripping Dean’s shoulder in a friendly gesture, but the joints of his fingers lock in place, dig his digits into the flesh.

Since that instance, Cas is casual with his touches, like an addict shooting up again and again. He flits his fingers against Dean’s when he passes him the coffee in the morning, grips his forearm to pull him from the line of fire when he’s careless on a hunt, stitches Dean up with star sparks and thick, black thread when the gash on his side is vivid compared to the neutral beige of the couch he’s lying on. Deliberate, he presses his fingers into Dean’s skin, shameless.

It feels no less intoxicating, breathless, when he digs his nails into the thick flesh of Dean’s thighs a week later, sitting between the hunter’s spread thighs, watching his back muscles jerk in anticipation.

“Dean,” he growls low in his throat, proud feeling in his chest when he sees Dean’s fingers twitch in the sheets. Cas rubs roughly up his thighs, then steadies himself with a hand on the bed, the other one splayed on Dean’s back, moving up to squeeze sharply at his neck. The hunter has his face buried in the crook of his arm.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs again, curling his finger in between Dean and forcing his arm away from his face. Cas knows Dean won’t move if he doesn’t want to, Cas also know that Dean will move for him.

The hunter’s arm draws away from his face slowly and Cas presses a kiss to Dean’s neck as a reward. He slips a hand back down along Dean’s side, finding the slope of his ass, scratching his nails against the skin there just to hear Dean gasp.

Withdrawing completely, he peels himself from the expanse of Dean’s body, skin away from skin despite his craving. He finds a small bottle of lube in Dean’s drawn in just a few seconds and then he’s back, mouthing at the skin beneath Dean’s shoulder blades, rubbing the flesh on his sides and hips, scratching at the back of his thighs until Dean is desperate, propping up on his elbows with his head dipping to his chest and his mouth hanging open in little gasps of breath.

“Cas, Cas please,” he says and Cas’ cock twitches. He pushes it against Dean’s thigh, makes sure he can feel it. His head swims with the aftermath of Dean’s plea, so helpless it drives him insane, sends adrenaline pumping through his unaccustomed system. His wet fingers are at Dean’s hole in moments, spreading him apart as the hunter presses his head against the palm of his right hand and groans. Cas isn’t sure whether he breathes out another plea or Cas’ name, but they both sound the same to him.

When Dean’s breathing evens out, Cas adds another finger and Dean’s arching his back again. In a rush, Cas’ hand finds purchase on Dean’s neck and pushes him down again.

“Lie still,” he whispers hotly. “That’s it,” he praises Dean over the hunter’s feverish breathing, soothing his hand over the muscles of his back, over the curve of his raised shoulders. “Dean,” Cas stretches the “e” and cuts off the end with a wisp of breath, saying Dean’s name with something bordering on wonder.

Dean chokes on a moan when Cas adds another finger, rocking into the mattress with increasing desperation. He’s close to begging, just doesn’t have enough breath left in his lungs to do so. Then he waits too long and Cas is pulling his fingers out.

Everything stops for a couple seconds leaving Dean dizzy and panting. Cas runs a hand down his side, shivers crawling down Dean’s skin in the wake of his fingertips. Rolling his hips into the bed, Dean comes up panting.

“Cas, Cas, please,” he gasps out. “Please, I need…please, fuck,” his breathing is heavy and his eyes are shut tight, fingers gripping the sheets, pleading with everything he’s got. Cas’ mouth is dry and his head is spinning. His fingers tighten on Dean’s hips.

“Tell me what you need, I want to hear it from you,” Cas dips closer and mutters the words into Dean’s ear, pressing him tighter to the sheets until Dean’s writhing.

“Need you, want you to fuck me,” Dean gasps incoherently, pushing back into Cas’ hand where it lies on the back of his thigh. “Please,” he begs. “I need you, I need you so bad.” His arms trembling from holding him upright. In a moment, they finally give out and he collapses onto his left arm, his other forearm curling in to cover his face again.

Cas sits in between his thighs again and Dean spreads them slightly for him, letting him slip between them as though it’s natural for them, as though it’s not their first time doing this.

The next time Cas speaks, he’s bottomed out, draped across Dean’s back.

“Mine,” he says, and Dean sighs, throat blocking up on something: a moan, or a gasp, maybe an affirmative. Cas fucks him slow and deep, single thrusts, one at a time. It’s less of him pulling out and digging back in and more of him pressing closer and closer to Dean, long grinds of his hips that only bring him deeper into the hunter.

Dean coughs out his name and Cas takes his hands, curling his own around them protectively as his hipbones dig into the flesh of Dean’s ass. “Fuck,” Dean chokes out and turns his head to the side, letting Cas bury his nose against the angle of his jaw, his breath hot on Dean’s neck and his body pressed tight to Dean’s own leaving no inch of skin bare. “Fucking…fucking thick, Cas. Please.”

Cas lets out a noise like a wounded animal and snaps his hips once, twice, before groaning and digging his teeth into Dean’s shoulder like he’s trying to mark.

“Mine,” he says again, voice a growl and grip that of a drowning man.

They’re on the edge in minutes, overheated and desperate, yet Cas has the sense to pull back. He falls back to sit on his heels and Dean cries out at the sudden emptiness, not a single sense left in him that isn’t primal.

“Cas-,” he gasps.

“Turn around,” Cas answers, nails digging into his own thighs to keep himself thinking straight. “Turn onto your back,” his voice is breathless.

Dean flips over quickly, eye lashes fluttering. The first thing he notices is Cas’ unruly hair, then his swollen lips, heavy lids covering his star dust eyes.  

“Cas,” he says again, one hand reaching to wrap around his leaking cock, the other reaching up to cup Cas’ face. The former angel has him falling back to the sheets, mouths pressed together in unquiet desperation.

Dean’s breathing hitches in between their lips as Cas slides back into him where he’s loose and wet with lubricant. He groans deep in his throat and Cas pulls away, locking their eyes.

“Made for me,” he gasps out, rocking into Dean with a different pace, different motion. “Made for this. Mine,” he rambles, mouth shaping words deliberately, lips loose. He sets them on Dean’s throat, insane urge to mark him up.

“Yours,” is just about the only thing Dean can say to him. There’s a slight twinge to where Cas’ lips are at his throat, and then the man’s breath is ghosting over the claim he’s made. His lips are back on Dean’s, opening up the hunter’s mouth to his own, licking into it like it’s his to explore.

His hands lock around Dean’s wrists, fingers making white imprints in the tan skin while he holds them down just an inch above his head. Dean’s so pliant to him, he doesn’t have to try hard to keep him there.

Their lips find each other again and the clench in Cas’ gut is unexpected. He’s coming before he realizes what’s happening; he rides out his orgasm while his tongue flicks flames across the spread of Dean’s lower lip. As though his vocal cords are broken, he barely makes a sound.

Somewhere between the push of Cas coming inside him and the pull of Cas’ mouth on his own, Dean spills his release between their stomach, sobbing in relief. When Cas lets his wrists go, he lunges up to cup Cas’ face as they kiss weakly with their draining strength.

With no rush to break apart, they take their time with the wet slide of their mouths and the comfortable dimness of the room, silent and clean around their bodies that still lurch like a calming storm.

/10 prompts left. yay/


“Dean, can I talk to you?”

“Sure, Cas, what’s up?” Dean asked warily, detaching himself from the football team. It was the cliché situation. Dean and Cas grew up together and once they were in high school, Dean became the quarterback and therefore really popular and Cas was just normal; not a nerd, not overly popular. He had enough friends and too low grades to be called a nerd and not enough friends or talent in sports to be called popular.

Cas and Dean never gave up their friendship even though they were at different levels of the food chain. They still hung out together and Cas and his family still came over during Christmas.

What Cas was about to do now, may ruin everything. But leaving it as it is, may ruin everything too.

You see, this wasn’t your typical love story. There was a small dent in the cliché, something that made it less of a cliché and more of a tragedy.

Cas was in love with Dean and Cas was sure Dean was in love with him, but there was Dean’s denial.

Dean thought that liking boys meant that his masculinity suddenly vanished in thin air and Cas had enough.

“I need to tell you something,” Cas said, his voice wavering as they walked further away from their school.

“Dude, you can tell me anything, you know that.” Dean’s smile was bright and Castiel couldn’t help but smile back, despite his nerves.

Castiel sighed once, trying to slow down his racing heart and said, “I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s eyes widened and Cas would’ve laughed if he wasn’t about to cry, mortified by Dean’s reaction.

“Say something?” Castiel practically begged, but Dean still didn’t answer. “You need to stop running from this, I know you feel it too.

“I don’t,” Dean said, shaking his head rapidly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”


“Find me when you figured it out.”

It probably wasn’t reasonable to say this but Cas was tired of Dean hiding his feelings for him. Cas would never force Dean to come out, but he could be honest with Cas. It was killing him to see Dean with all of these girls when he knew that sometimes those eyes were pointed at him.

Castiel went home and started doing his homework, only to give up a few minutes later. He couldn’t concentrate so Netflix it was.

The doorbell rang after 3 episodes of Stranger Things and Cas already suspected who it might be.

Heavy boots were coming up the stairs while Cas tried his best to look casual and unaffected.

His bedroom door opened, they knew no shame around each other, Cas still didn’t look up. The boots came closer and closer until a figure leaned over Cas and kissed him.

Castiel gasped which made Dean smile and deepen the kiss, burying his hands in Cas’ unruly hair.

“You were right,” Dean said, out of breath, after they broke apart. “I feel it too.”

Day 23: Witches Brew

“That looks disgusting,” Castiel commented with a half judgmental, half horrified tone.

Dean rolled his eyes, flicking his best friend’s cheek, “Well, it is called a witches brew, it’s not going to look that beautiful is it?”

“Hmm,” Cas continued to stare at the drink, squinting at it suspiciously.

“Cas,” Dean turned his voice soft, “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. But it’s not that strong,” he reassured him with a grin, “it only sends me tipsy so you should be fine Cas.”

Thinking about it for a while, Cas wrapped his hands around the glass, eyebrows pinched together. Dean tried to stay patient, knowing that Cas could be particular when it came to these kind of things. He rarely liked going out to big things like this and Dean had never saw the guy drink before, so it was no surprise that Cas was considering his options properly.

“Okay,” Castiel decided with a smile.

Spreading his lips into a grin, Dean clinked their glasses together, “Okay.”

Keep reading

powerfulweak  asked:

Cas and Dean and those quiet moments of intimacy where Dean just runs his fingers through Cas' hair. Castiel falls asleep with his head in Dean's laps, feeling so warm and cozy, listening to Dean hum "Hey Jude" above him.

They spend most of their time together.

It’s like the newness of their relationship never went, even two years into Dean and Cas being Dean and Cas. 

At school, Dean spends all his time between class at Castiel’s locker, chatting him up about what he did that weekend or where they would spend lunch that day. Cas is always so happy to see him there waiting, face lighting up the moment he spots after rounding the corner. They walk to class together and if it was one they’d shared, Dean would find the seat closest to the brunet and drag it even closer.

Outside of school it was even worse, especially if you were to ask Sam or any of Castiel’s siblings. The moment class lets out, Cas is waiting outside in the parking lot by the Impala for Dean, who always greets him with a kiss. It grosses Sam out to no end and that’s probably why Dean tends to escalate and exaggerate any of the couple-y stuff he and Cas do around Sam. It’s just a bonus that whenever he does, Cas smiles in the cute, gummy way of his the always makes the blond’s heart skip.

It’s not just rides home or moments in the the hall, though. 

It’s video games and pizza Friday nights, it’s larping in the summer, weekend trips to museums and star gazing whenever Castiel notices the sky is clear enough for it. That’s Cas’s favourite thing they do Dean thinks, sharing something he holds so dear to him with Dean. He looks at the stars the same way Dean looks at him and Dean can always tell he’s witnessing something no one else gets to see.

But Dean’s favourite thing isn’t any of that, no matter how much he loves those moments.

Dean’s favourite moments are here in his room, Castiel’s head resting in his lap while Dean hums “Hey Jude” and runs his hands through unruly, dark locks. Cas is dozing, like he always tends to do when they’re quiet like this, his hand wrapped around Dean’s knee and his breathing getting deeper as the minutes pass. Dean’s just staring down at him with a dumb, lovestruck look on his face, his hand moving to the curls at the back of Cas’s head. Cas picks that then to turn and look up at his boyfriend, and Dean can’t help but feel caught. 


Cas signs it instead of just speaking, too relaxed and content to use words, which Dean is thankful for. He wouldn’t be able to read the boy’s lips with how groggy he seems to be accurately enough anyway. 

“Nothing…you’re just cute is all…”

Dean chuckles at the grumpy scoff and eye roll Cas sends his way before the brunet takes his hand and returns to his rest place, happy to press his lips to Dean’s knuckles before sighing and going back to dozing.

Yeah, this is definitely Dean’s favourite.

anonymous asked:

So glad that you're feeling better! Here's one happy thought: The weather is just cool enough for the sheet against the skin to be pleasant. Cas blinks hazily as morning light hits his face. He's too comfortable to wake up. He wiggles and tries to burrow under Dean. "Wuh-" Dean tries to ask, so Cas complains "Sun," and Dean adjusts himself to block the light out with his back. "Better?" Dean mumbles. Cas nods contently into Dean's chest and falls back to sleep.

Oh, that is a happy thought!  And Dean probably buries his nose in Cas’ unruly mop of hair, feather-soft against his face.  His hair smells like patchouli, and Dean had given Sam shit for using this same shampoo for years but now he can’t remember why he hated it so much.  He closes his eyes and pulls Cas in even closer, letting his fingers play with the errant curls at the back of Cas’ neck.

Dean fumbles blindly with his other hand, searching for his cell phone.  He only plans to set the alarm forward by an hour, but then he feels Cas exhale against his bare chest, listens to him hmm and snuffle in his sleep.  Dean finds the phone, turns it off completely, and tosses it across the room.

It can stay in the laundry hamper.  He’s staying right here.

A love thing (Destiel fanfic)

The first time Dean Winchester used Castiel as an impromptu babysitter, Cas was sixteen years old and hopelessly in love with his best friend. Dean was almost seventeen and oblivious to Cas’s more-than-friendly feelings.

“Hey Cas, thanks for coming over,” Dean said as he opened the door to the Winchester family home.

“Of course,” Cas said, smiling. There was no chance he would ever not come when Dean called.

“But, seriously,” Dean added, “stop knocking.”

He grinned and ruffled Cas’s already unruly hair as Cas slid past him into the house. Cas batted the hand away as expected but he suspected that his glare was seriously undermined by the small smile he could feel threatening to come across his face.

“It’s impolite to barge into another’s house unannounced,” Cas answered, just as he did every time a member of the Winchester family told him he didn’t need to knock.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Not if you’re family, Cas. When you’re family all you’re doing is annoying the rest of us by forcing us to walk all the way to the door.” Dean grinned. “And you know how we hate to exercise.”

“Yes,” Cas said smiling back, “You’re the very model of sloth.”

“He is when Coach Singer isn’t forcing him to exercise,” a new voice chimed in from the top of the stairs.

Dean and Cas both turned to watch as Sam loped down the stairs on limbs that seemed to grow overnight.

“That’s not fair, Sam,” Cas scolded mildly, irrationally defensive even in the face of thirteen year old Sam’s brotherly teasing. “You know Dean is very active. He deserves a chance to rest before the season starts back up.”

Dean played shortstop for their high school and pitcher for a local team sponsored by his father’s garage. He was far from inactive, but it was true that when he decided to take a day off he could be the picture of laziness; lounging around watching Star Trek reruns in his sweats, eating pizza and pie all day, only moving for bathroom breaks and to get more food when he couldn’t con anyone else into bringing it to him.

Cas rather enjoyed those days, particularly when Dean would pull Cas down onto the couch and drape an arm over his shoulders to keep him in place and say, “Relax, you’re working so hard you’re making me tense.” (And if he sometimes deliberately brought his homework into Dean’s line of vision just to get the invite, well nobody had to know that but him.)

“Yeah, short stuff. I deserve a break,” Dean told his brother with a smirk.

Sam responded by sticking his tongue out and wrapping a hand around Cas’s arm. “Don’t you have someplace else to be?” he asked Dean pointedly.

“Yes, actually,” Dean said and turned toward the corner closet to grab the leather jacket his father had given him for his birthday the past January. “I gotta date.”

He winked at Cas as he said it, but Cas couldn’t respond. He was too busying dying inside, all thoughts of spending the night pressed against Dean’s side as they studied, or watched movies, or played stupid board games with Sam disappearing with those three words.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, eyes narrowed as he studied Cas’s expression.

Trust Dean to notice the sudden shift in Cas’s mood. He shook his head absently before forcing the smile back on his face. He hoped it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “I thought you invited me over?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Dean said easily, shrugging into his jacket. “Mom and Dad are at some fundraiser or something and I said I’d stay home with Sammy, but I finally sealed the deal with Cassie Robinson.”

Dean stopped moving to search Cas’s face again before continuing, “I wanted you to hang out with Sam tonight so I can go. I don’t want to put her off.”

“He’s afraid she’ll wake up and realize what a terrible mistake she’s making,” Sam said, a little meanly in Cas’s opinion.

“Shut up, pipsqueak,” Dean said, flushing. “Cassie’s a classy girl. I want to treat her right.”

Cas’s heart clenched again. Dean ‘dated’ quite a few girls, but he’d never seen him take a date so seriously. Although, now that he thought about it, he had been deliberately ignoring Dean’s interest in Cassie for some time. Dean had been pursuing her doggedly for months, and he wasn’t usually the kind who wanted (or needed) to chase after a woman.Perhaps Cas had been fooling himself, ignoring it on purpose, scared of what that might mean about the seriousness of Dean’s feelings for this girl.

“You should just be grateful I’m loaning you my best friend for the night,” Dean told Sam, breaking Cas from his melancholy thoughts, “You and I will both get to spend the night with the hottest dates in Lawrence.”

“Yeah, except mine didn’t have to be talked into spending time with me,” Sam said, again being more cruel than his usual brotherly teasing.

It occurred to Cas that Sam might also be uncomfortable with Dean’s feelings for this girl.

“Of course, Sam,” Cas said, trying to prevent either Winchester from hurting the other further. “I always enjoy our time together. The fact that it took Cassie longer to realize how wonderful Dean is just means she’ll appreciate him all the more now.”

Dean’s blush deepened. “Jeez, Cas, you can’t say shit like that about another dude.”

Cas cocked his head, confused. “I fail to see why, Dean. It’s just us here.”

Dean shook his head but he was smiling. “Whatever, Blue Eyes. I gotta go. Don’t wait up,” he added with a leer that had Sam fake gagging and Cas feeling sick for real.

There were a lot of cold winter nights spent with Sam over the next few months while Cas watched Dean pull himself farther and farther away. But high school romances don’t last forever and when baseball season started back up Dean had too much on his plate. Cassie faded from their lives as slowly but as surely as she’d entered it.

Dean was a moody and quiet about it for awhile. Cas tried to be sympathetic, but his joy (and Sam’s) in having Dean back was too much to hide for long. Luckily, that seemed to bring Dean out of his funk faster than anything. He even agreed to never use Cas as a babysitter again. After all nothing was more important to Dean than family, not even Cassie Robinson.

The first time Cas helped Dean with a broken heart, Cas was twenty-one and they were home from UCLA (great baseball program and just six hours away from Sammy) for Christmas break. Dean was almost twenty-two and having a heated phone conversation with his first ever boyfriend.

Cas had the feeling he knew where the conversation was heading. Eliot’s (unfortunately unfounded) jealousy over Dean and Cas’s friendship had been causing increasingly harsh fights since Thanksgiving break. Cas hadn’t been able to afford making the trip back to Kansas for the shortened break, and Dean had chosen to stay in the dorms with Cas rather than go home with Eliot.

Cas knew it was just Dean’s innate since of loyalty that wouldn’t allow him to leave his friend alone for the holiday, but Eliot had read something deeper into the decision.The fights had only gotten worse since Dean had announced his plans to go home for Christmas before Eliot could even ask Dean to join him in Tahoe.

Dean’s current attempt to smooth things over by inviting Eliot up for New Year’s didn’t seem to be going very well.Cas felt like his heart was shattering into a million pieces when he heard Dean plead, “But I love you, Eliot.” It hurt even worse when Dean hung up the phone with a quiet 'Goodbye, Eliot’ and went directly to his room with dead eyes without saying a word to him or Sam.

“Ouch,” Sam said with a wince when Dean’s door closed with a quiet click. He glanced up the stairs and then back to Cas. “Wanna sleep on my floor tonight instead of Dean’s?” he asked.

Cas nodded absently. “That may be for the best.” Neither of them suggested he go back to his own house. Things had been uncomfortable there at best since his brief, but intensely unhealthy, affair with a man named Crowley from his father’s office during his senior year.

Cas lay awake for a long time that night, mind and heart unsettled with the thoughts of Dean’s current misery. He didn’t know how to feel about the whole thing. On one hand Eliot’s arrival in their lives had hurt worse than anything since Cassie.

Gone were the days when Cas could rationalize Dean’s complete lack of romantic interest in him as a general lack of interest in men. On the other hand, Eliot was a genuinely nice guy. His confidence and ease with himself and his sexuality had been good for Dean - and for Cas too if he were being honest.

He’d decided it was a problem for the morning and was almost asleep when the sound of a choked off sob reached through the thin wall connecting Sam’s room to Dean’s. He couldn’t stay still any longer. Untangling himself from his nest of blankets on the floor, Cas crept out as quietly as he could to Dean’s room.

Cas pushed the door open far enough to admit his slender frame. “Dean?” he whispered. Dean’s back was to the door and he gave no indication that he’d heard Cas’s approach.

The room was silent long enough that Cas thought maybe Dean had fallen back to sleep but Dean answered before Cas could decide whether or not to return to Sam’s room. “Go back to sleep, Cas,” he said.

And any other time Cas might have done that, but Dean sounded so sad and so weary that he couldn’t bring himself to leave Dean alone.

Instead of answering Cas closed the door behind him, crossed the room in two long, determined strides and slid into Dean’s bed. He felt Dean stiffen next to him, but he ignored it and turned toward Dean, pulling the blankets up over his shoulder. “Sam’s snoring, can’t sleep,” he lied.

Dean snorted and relaxed next to him, slipping an arm under Cas to pull him closer. “Yeah, looks like a Sasquatch and sounds like one too.”

Cas hummed in agreement, already sliding toward sleep as the emotional rollercoaster and late hour caught up with him. He was vaguely aware of Dean shifting around next to him, but was too exhausted to open his eyes and check. Just before he drifted off he thought he heard a soft “Thanks, Blue Eyes” and an even softer brush of lips across his forehead, but that was probably just his imagination.

It wasn’t the last time Dean suffered a heart break, but it also wasn’t the last time he had Cas there to help him through it.

Cas decided he was done with Dean breaking his heart when he was twenty-six years old and sharing a two bedroom apartment back in Lawrence with Dean. Dean was almost twenty-seven and out on a date with a woman whom he hadn’t seen in a year and whose infant son just might have belonged to Dean.

“I gotta know, Cas,” Dean had said as he changed his shirt for the fourth time. “I mean it was just that one weekend - one last hurrah before she left for the internship, but the timing’s right.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas agreed on autopilot. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation since Lisa had returned three weeks ago with a three month old in tow. Cas was of the opinion that the baby - Benjamin, Ben, was his name - was almost certainly Dean’s.

“Oh God, Cas. What if he’s mine?” Dean asked, abandoning the mirror to turn to Cas. Cas was propped up against Dean’s headboard flipping through a magazine, pretending to care more about the social lives of celebrities he didn’t recognize than he did about the death of his own.

Cas put the magazine aside. “We’ll handle it, Dean. It’ll be fine.”

Dean goggled at him. “Just like that, huh? We’ll handle it and it’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be alone, Dean. I’ll be here,” Cas said with a calmness he didn’t really feel. “As will Sam and Jessica. There’s nothing to fear.”

“I think there’s a freaking lot to fear,” Dean muttered, but he had visibly relaxed so Cas considered it a win.Dean left Cas to have his own private freak out twenty minutes later with his parting words, “If he’s mine, Cas, we could be a real family,” burning like hellfire in Cas’s mind and his heart.

An hour later, Cas had convinced himself that Lisa had revealed the truth to Dean and the three of them were even now playing happy families. Dean was probably already mentally picking out rings and a house. He’d never abandon his kid. He’d want to 'do the right thing’ and, worse, he liked Lisa. If he didn’t love her yet, Cas knew it wouldn’t take much, especially if she gave - had already given - Dean a family of his own.

And where would Cas fit into this scenario? In an apartment by himself watching the man he loved living the life Cas wanted without him. All at once it was too much for Cas to handle. He had his phone in hand and speed dial two selected almost before he knew what he intended to do.

“Hey Cas, any news?” Sam asked when he answered the phone.

“No,” Cas answered briefly, voice shaking with pent up emotion. “I need to get out of here, Sam. Can you come pick me, let me stay with you and Jess tonight?”

Cas braced himself for a million questions he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer, but something in his voice must have caught Sam’s attention because all he said was, “I’m on my way.” He sent up a prayer of thanks for Sam.

Cas was still shoving random clothes into a duffle - Dean’s duffel, he noted hysterically - when Sam arrived. Running away from Dean with Dean’s duffel and Dean’s brother - Cas had clearly lost his mind just as surely as he’d lost his heart.

“Cas?” Sam asked, voice soft with concern and possibly fear, “What’s going on? You okay?”

Cas shook his head without turning to face Sam. “No. I haven’t been for a long time, Sam. I can’t be here anymore. Not tonight, not for this. Dean’s going to come home all happy and in love and with a family and I just can’t face it tonight.”

Sam was silent behind him, and Cas finally turned to see his reaction. Sam’s mouth was a thin, grim line. “Cas, no matter what happens, you’ll always be Dean’s family. Our family.”

Cas slumped down until he was sitting on the bed and hung his head, shame heating his face. “I know, Sammy,” he said, using Dean’s nickname, the one Cas himself hadn’t used since Sam turned thirteen and asked them both to stop. “And you’ll always be mine.”

A smile flitted across Sam’s face and he crossed the room to sit next to Cas. “Then what’s the problem, Cas-Cas?” he asked, giving Cas his own childhood nickname back.

Cas couldn’t have stopped his answering smile if he wanted to, but it was short lived. “Things are going to change. It won’t be Dean and Cas anymore. It’ll be Dean, Lisa and Ben.” He held up a hand to stop Sam from responding. “I know that’s horribly selfish of me. I know that, Sam.

"Tomorrow,” he pleaded, “tomorrow I’ll be happy for him. I’ll be happy for them. And then I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting you for the title of best uncle. I’ll help Dean figure out how to change a diaper and go with him to pick out the perfect engagement ring, but not tonight. Ok, Sam? Please not tonight.”

Sam hesitated before saying, “Cas, you know Dean loves you, right?” He sounded confused.

Cas laughed, the slightly hysterical bitter sound ripped from his throat involuntarily. “Oh, I know,” he said, more to himself than to Sam, “He loves me like he loves you or Uncle Bobby. Unfortunately, I don’t love him like that.”

Cas was dimly aware that his voice was rapidly rising in volume, he was practically screaming when he continued. “I love him like a fucking hole in my heart that will never heal. I'm in love with him and after all these years of pathetic pining and moping I just need one night off from the tragedy” he made air quotes and rolled his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of his life, “of it all before I become nothing but Weird Uncle Cas to Dean’s perfect, beautiful child.”

“Kid’s not mine, Cas.”

Sam and Cas whipped their heads around in near unison to stare at Dean in the bedroom doorway. He looked disappointed, relieved and shell shocked all at once. He smiled at them weakly, stepped fully into the room and opened his arms.

Cas was up and across the room without a thought. He slipped into Dean’s arms easily, clinging to his best friend, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry.” And he really was. Despite the changes it undoubtedly would have wrought on his life, he had really wanted - and believed - little Ben to be Dean’s child. If only because he knew how much Dean wanted it to be true.

Dean laughed, but it was a fake, watery little thing. “S'alright. Not cut out to be a dad anyway.”

Cas tightened his arms around Dean’s waist. “Nonsense,” he said fiercely, “you’ll be a wonderful father.”

Dean squeezed Cas harder in return and hid his face in Cas’s neck. “Well, maybe with the right partner I’d do alright,” he conceded quietly.

From the corner of his eye Cas could see Sam shifting awkwardly on his feet. “I’m sorry too, Dean,” he offered, angling toward the door, “but I think I’m just gonna go now.” He hesitated in the doorway, looking back at them and biting his lip. “Umm, Dean?”

Dean raised his head and turned his neck awkwardly to look at Sam without letting go of Cas, “Yeah?”

“Do you need me to ? Should I be a meddling little brother here or ?”

“No,” Dean said, turning back to stare into Cas’s eyes, “I think I heard enough."He smiled at Cas even as Sam walked away. "I got this.”

Cas stiffened, mind racing over his conversation with Sam and trying to figure out how much Dean had heard. Oh God, he’d said he was in love with Dean, said he’d been pining and moping for years. He said it out loud, screamed it even.

He tried to pull away as their front door clicked closed behind Sam, but Dean wouldn’t let him go. Dean unwrapped one arm from around him only to cup Cas’s face in his hands, forcing him to keep looking at Dean.

Cas shut his eyes tightly, afraid of what he’d see there.

“Cas, I’m an idiot,” Dean said. Cas shook his head mutely, eyes still clenched shut. “But to be fair, so are you.” Cas couldn’t disagree with that. Only an idiot would fall in love with his best friend, never get over it and then destroy that friendship completely by accident.

“Cas, open your eyes,” Dean said and when Cas shook his head again, Dean sighed. “Fine, then just just don’t hit me.”

Cas’s eyes flew open in shock - why would he ever hit Dean? - just in time see a flash of green before Dean shut his own eyes and pressed his lips gently to Cas’s.

It was amazing and so completely unexpected that Cas couldn’t even think about reacting until it was too late, and Dean was pulling away, looking sad and embarrassed.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and started to step away entirely, but Cas’s brain and body finally got with the program and he tightened his hold, pulling Dean closer to him and tipping his head back to kiss Dean again.

This kiss was glorious, warm and wet and Cas swore he could taste Dean’s joy in the curve of his lips and the curl of his tongue. The second kiss faded into the third and the fourth and so many more that Cas lost count way along the way.

“Dean,” he gasped as they paused for breath, hands dragging at Dean’s hips as he tried to pull him further into the room and closer to the bed. “Just to clarify,” Cas murmured, dodging Dean’s nearly irresistibly kiss-swollen lips, “I mean I need to be sure.” Dean growled in frustration as Cas continued to evade his kisses, and Cas nearly lost his train of thought as Dean abandoned his attempts to recapture his mouth in order to explore Cas’s neck with lips and teeth and tongue. “This isn’t some weird rebound thing or a twisted form of pity, right?”

At that Dean tore himself away from Cas’s collarbone. “No, you moron, this is not some rebound or pity thing.” He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. “This is a love thing.” Dean was smiling as he said it, and the look in his eyes was something Cas had always interpreted as fondness but now suspected was something more. Dean continued, “A love thing - as in I love you, have for longer than I care to admit to right now, and plan to for a lot longer.”

Dean was flushed an adorable shade of red, but Cas decided to keep that opinion to himself. Instead he said, “Me too, Dean. I love you.”

Dean grinned. “Great. Now can we get out of this chick flick and back to the porno?”

Cas laughed and shook his head even as he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the bed. “Too late, Dean. I think we’ve been living in a romantic comedy for quite some time.”

Dean stripped off his shirt and climbed in next to Cas, laying on his side and propping his head up with one arm so he was leaning slightly over Cas. “Does that mean we get to live happily ever after, Blue Eyes?” he asked, one eyebrow raised mockingly.

Cas pulled until Dean was laying half on top of him. He smiled into Dean’s lips, thinking about how right he had been at the beginning of the night - he really was done with Dean breaking his heart. “Yes,” he answered between kisses, “yes, it does.”

Its not mine unfortunately, done by @lilyleia78

P.S read her other stories on fanfiction, she is really good♥♥

Easy as Pie

Here’s my new ficlet! And you guys should all check out Sophia’s new painting of Jimmy Novak which is AMAZING!!!

“Dude,” Dean said, walking into the kitchen. “Do I smell pie?”

Castiel spun around from where he was just placing his freshly baked pie on the counter to cool. “I—um—yes.” He had hoped that he would have been able to clean up the kitchen before Dean returned. He knew Dean liked to keep things tidy now that he had a space to take pride in.

Cas fidgeted where he stood in front of the flour, egg shell, and apple peel strewn counters. He could see Dean’s eyes rove over it, taking it in and processing. Biting his lip, he waited for Dean to reprimand him for the mess.

“You said you’d be another hour,” Cas said, unable to take the silence any longer.

Dean ignored the comment as he continued to take in the scene before him.

Castiel cast his eyes down and noticed that his entire front had been covered in flour. It must have happened when he had first tried opening the bag—how was he to know the powdery substance would puff out of the newly torn opening? Needless to say, it had surprised him into spilling nearly half of the bag down his front. Perhaps he should have worn one of the aprons that Dean had hanging on a hook near the pantry.

“Did you—Cas, did you make a pie?”

Keep reading