Tag: destiel fanfic

sempermisha:

As soon as Cas realizes what’s going on—what the queasy feeling in his stomach means, why he can’t help smiling whenever Dean is around—he tries to tell Dean right away, but the words won’t come out. It’s because Sam is here, Cas thinks. They are at the dinner table, after all. It would probably be uncomfortable. I’ll mention it sometime when Dean and I are alone.

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thekingslover:

Dean and Sam are on a hunt, but Dean takes five to call Cas. Sam’s just standing there, leafing through their notes. Then Dean goes, “Okay, baby, I’ll call you later.”

Sam lifts a brow, but Dean doesn’t notice because suddenly he’s saying, “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re not a baby. Come on, Cas. You know I love you, jesus.”

And Sam can’t stop laughing because Dean turns red and says, “I didn’t mean – I didn’t mean Jesus!”

thekingslover:

doomsdayy:

Castiel is finally ready to tell Dean about his feelings, but…

(forgive me but I’m about to make this fluffy)

The date’s a bust and Dean gets home early. Everything was wrong with this girl. Her shoulders were too narrow. Her hair was too light. Her eyes weren’t the right shade of blue. She laughed at all of Dean’s pop culture references. She ordered a salad, not a burger.

Cas always orders burgers.

The kitchen’s empty when Dean enters it to throw some trash from his pockets away. He won’t be needing the receipt or that girl’s number. He lifts the lid of the trash bin, fumbles through his pockets for the wads of paper, and then stops. Everything stops.

There’s a rose there with the garbage. Dean didn’t put it there. Had Cas? Cas never mentioned having a date. He never mentioned someone was coming over. And it is a perfectly good rose; if Cas bought it for himself, there was no reason to throw it away.

Dean leaves the kitchen and finds Cas sitting on the edge of his bed in his room. He’s watching tv, but the sound is off. “Hello, Dean,” he says, without looking away from the screen. His face is more blank than usual. Dean wonders what he’s watching.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says and scans the room but there’s no one else. No evidence of anyone else ever being there either. “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” Cas says, and Dean frowns. It’s been his experience that fine usually means hell no. “How was your date?”

“Cas,” Dean starts but then stops. Cas sounds bitter… Maybe, jealous? But no, no, Dean must have imagined it. “It was – uh, fine.”

“That’s fine,” Cas says. He changes the channel on the television.

“Yeah,” Dean says, watching the remote tremble in Cas’s hands. Apparently, nothing is fine. “Look, Cas, about what you wanted to talk about -“

“I love you,” Cas says.

”- earlier,” Dean says, then stops. He blinks once, twice, knowing he must have misheard, before eloquently asking, “Huh?”

“I love you, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean’s night starts looking a hell of a lot better.

thekingslover:

Gentle fingertips drag across a constellation of freckles. A blush warms skin, but Dean says nothing, not even as Cas kisses around the shell of his ear and nibbles a bit on the lobe.

“You are so wonderful,” Cas praises in words and kisses. His hands caress Dean’s skin from…

dean and cas, 47 (random number, sorry if it’s lame)

hymnaries-blog:

dean and cas, and creation

“Atoms,” Dean says.

Castiel slowly lowers the battered old copy of War and Peace (and why the hell does Bobby own War and Peace, anyway? Dean wonders) he’s been reading and gives Dean a curious look. “Atoms?”

“You know how many atoms I have in my body.”

“Oh, yes,” Cas replies, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Seven billion, billion, billion of them. That’s only an average, though. To give you an exact figure would take a long and unnecessary amount of time.”

Dean’s still wrapping his head around that one when Cas continues, “I rebuilt you, Dean. I had to fashion you new atoms, craft you new cells. And I had to do it very carefully. I couldn’t help but commit it all to memory along the way.”

“So you know…more?”

Cas blinks. “I know everything about you, Dean.”

There’s a brief moment of quiet between them, filled only by the soft drip of the leaky kitchen faucet on last week’s dishes. Dean runs a hand over his mouth. “Then why are you still here?”

“I don’t understand.”

“If you’ve seen my soul,” Dean says, taking a few bold steps into the room, “and you know my heart the way you say you do, then why the hell are you still here? Because anyone in their right mind would’ve turned tail and left me in the dust by now. And I wouldn’t have blamed them for a second.”

Cas rises from the armchair. “Would you like me to go?”

“No,” Dean says too quickly. “I just – I don’t understand why you haven’t.”

“Dean,” Cas replies fondly, something like a smile coming to rest on his lips.

“What?”

“Dean,” Cas says again, this time with a rare bit of laughter on his breath.

“Sorry, but I’m not really grasping what’s so funny about this. I’m trying to have a serious talk here, Cas,” Dean snaps. He feels foolish, ashamed.

At last, Castiel steps forward. “Do you really think your flaws are enough to keep me from you? I have seen your heart, yes,” he says warmly, “and there is nothing in it that would make me want to leave.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply but finds he has absolutely nothing to say. Cas smiles at him again, this time a little more shyly.

“There are one hundred billion stars in this galaxy, Dean, but the ten trillion cells in your body are far more beautiful to me than any constellation.”

Cas takes another step forward and,  with an incredible amount of care, lifts his hands to trace the contours of Dean’s face. And Dean just stands there, watching him.

“There are ninety-nine freckles on your face,” Cas observes.

Dean swallows. “That so?”

A pause, then:

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.”

What follows is the harsh sound of a chair skidding across the floor, two bodies crashing into the nearest wall, a laugh that’s deep and gravelly and heard all too rarely. A man and an angel, atoms and star-stuff, colliding. 

This is really beautiful.

more bounce to the ounce: leatherandlightning: Dean tries to tell Sam, he does.The words get…

leatherandlightning:

Dean tries to tell Sam, he does.

The words get stuck in his throat, over and over. He starts to explain it a hundred times but he flounders and stammers every time. Dean’s casual bravado fails when he wants to explain this blooming thing between him and Cas.

It’s…

more bounce to the ounce: leatherandlightning: Dean tries to tell Sam, he does.The words get…