For better or worse, the
bunker’s in shit shape. Repairs take up a lot of their time, and while it’s
hard work, Dean’s thankful for the distraction. If he works himself hard, he’s
so damn tired when he crawls into bed that he doesn’t think or dream or cry.
The worst part is that
damn kid starts following Dean around like a lost puppy. For a while, he seemed
to like Sam more, which was just fine with Dean. Dean doesn’t like the kid for
obvious reasons (“He’s Lucifer’s kid,” he tells himself. “Enough said.” “Sure,”
he answers back. “Has nothing to do with him being the reason Cas got
killed.”), and it creeps him out when he feels the kid watching him.
“Keep him on a shorter
leash,” Dean tells Sam one night. “I don’t want him around me.”
“Yeah right.” Sam snorts.
“I’ll just tell the all powerful nephilim what to do.”
“He ain’t all powerful.”
There’s one very important thing he can’t do, so he’s basically useless.
Can’t even control his powers.
“Well, he’s more
powerful than me. And he’s not even doing anything. Just give the kid a
break.”
Since Sam refuses to
help, Dean goes back to ignoring Jack. The kid’ll take a hint eventually,
right?
Wrong. A week more of
having a silent shadow trailing him throughout the bunker has Dean grinding his
teeth and wanting to punch a few more walls.
“What?” Dean snaps one
day. He’d been tuning the Impala just for something to do, and the normally
soothing task has him completely on edge because can’t Jack just leave him
the fuck alone!? “What do you want? Why you keep following me around?”
Jack doesn’t even look
taken aback by the outburst. “I want to learn more about humanity.”
“What? TV, the internet,
and Sam not good enough resources for that? Why you bugging me?”
Jack tilts his head to
the side and Dean wants to go over and physically straighten it. How dare
this kid be like him.
After a moment of
consideration, Jack answers. “I know my father—”
“Cas isn’t your father.”
“… I know my father
was fond of humanity, and of you and Sam in particular. If Castiel trusted you
both, I thought you would be good models for how to behave. Maybe you’d give me
insights on how to be the type of person Castiel and my mother would have
wanted me to be.”
Dean wipes grease off
his hands and doesn’t meet Jack’s eye. “Yeah, well, stick with Sam. I ain’t
exactly a role model.”
“That’s not true.”
The flashback is short
but vivid, and Dean feels short of breath. It’s like the world’s closing in on
him, and he gropes for the Impala just so he can keep his balance.
“Sam says that you and
Castiel were close,” Jack continues on, as if Dean’s not having a nervous
breakdown in the middle of the garage. “Closer than he and Castiel were. I
thought that would make you a better choice to learn about humanity. Surely
Castiel saw something in you that was worth seeing.”
“I-I’m not— he didn’t—”
His knees give out and he lets himself fall to the ground. Jack lays a hand on
his left shoulder and Dean shudders. Like father like son, he supposes.
“You are, and he did.”
As if Jack at all knows what Dean meant to say. Dean sure as fuck
doesn’t know, so it’s absurd to think this month old creature possibly could.
They stay there like
that, with Dean trying to catch his breath and wishing he could cut out his
heart, it’d hurt less. Jack stays at his side, kneeling beside him and keeping
a steady hand on his shoulder. When his head clears, Dean can’t help but laugh
at how fucked up his life is. He’s losing his shit because the love of his
life—an angel, for fuck’s sake—is dead, and that same angel’s adopted
son—the spawn of the literal devil—is trying to comfort him.
What a world.
“Alright, enough of
that.” He shrugs off Jack’s hand and pushes himself to his feet. “I’m telling
you, kid, I’m not special. And I don’t appreciate the silent brooding as you
watch me do stuff. It’s creepy.”
Cas used to be creepy,
too.
“I’m sorry.” Jack looks
more frustrated than apologetic. “I’ll go—”
“Whoa whoa, I didn’t say
that.” He hands a tool to Jack and ushers him over to the Impala. “If you’re
gonna stick around, you gotta make yourself useful.”
“I don’t know anything
about cars.”
“You think I did either
when I started? No. You gotta learn. You said you wanted to learn how to
be a better human, why not start with learning how to be human, period. We can
add in the morals and stuff along the way. Got it?”
The corner of his mouth
perks up a little. “I got it.”
“Alright, so this here
is the battery…”
Dean doesn’t want to be playing
babysitter or uncle or dad to this kid, but Jack has a point. This right here,
the two of them bonding over the Impala’s hood? This is what Cas would’ve
wanted. And if Dean can’t save Cas this time, well, at least he can do his best
to follow his wishes.
Contrary to popular belief, Dean is not worried about Cas. Does he start subtly tailing him around the Bunker? No. It could maybe be interpreted that that’s what he’s doing, but he’s actually just got a bunch of shit to do that just so happens to be in whatever room Cas is occupying at the moment. It’s a coincidence, thank you very much. Jesus, Sam, it’s not like Dean’s a stalker.
Except that he’s a little bit of a stalker.
Fine, okay—yes, Dean does start kind of… mother-henning a little bit. Does he freak out when the leaves turn and Cas goes out without a hat? Yeah. But that’s only because he doesn’t want to deal with the guy once he inevitably gets sick! It isn’t worrying, per se. Dean’s actions are totally motivated by self-interest.
Seriously, he could care less that Castiel, freshly-Fallen-Angel-of-the-Lord, spends like four hours a day outside doing god knows what. That’s not a thing Dean thinks about at all. And like, the fact that Cas always comes back all smiley? Or leaves with a lunchbox? He doesn’t give a single fuck. Not one.
Which is why, of course, Dean is now following roughly twenty paces behind Castiel, hunched over and, by everyone else’s definition of the word: sneaking. Of course, according to the Exhaustive and Wholly Accurate Dictionary of Dean Winchester, he is taking a nice, long walk. Alone. To get some air. And he’s hunched over because it’s cold—oh hey, wow, is that Cas? Huh, what are the odds!
It should be noted that Dean is fooling exactly no one.
Except, it seems, Castiel, who has apparently just been thrilled to have the eldest (more attractive) Winchester stuck to his ass for two weeks. Which is… kind of awesome, from Dean’s perspective. For no particular reason.
Dean follows Cas into the woods behind the Bunker in what he considers to be stealth mode, and it turns out he doesn’t have to trail him for very long. Castiel soon discovers he has a human visitor when a fucking mangy wolf fucking jumps him from out of nowhere.
And the wild thing? While Dean is yelling for Cas to save himself and trying to fight the damn beast off, Castiel just whistles twice, speaking softly in what sounds like Enochian before the thing goddamn whimpers like it’s disappointed and lopes back to… to who… its master?? Did Cas tame a wolf???
The mutt licks the side of Castiel’s face, and Dean figures that’s an unequivocal yes.
What the fuck.
The fucker’s even laughing; one of those whole, fully-body things as the wolf knocks him off his feet and tackles him like they’re cubs play-fighting. Cas wears that really pretty, gummy smile Dean loves, and scratches behind her ears. “Good girl, Moz.”
“Moh-zod,” Dean mumbles to himself, frowning. What the hell kinda name is that?
Pushing her off of him, Castiel sits up and wraps his arms around her, playfully growling into the fur of her neck. Dean’s nose wrinkles in disgust because jesus, man, you got no idea where she’s been.
“Dean,” Cas says, like they walked out here hand-in-hand instead of in a shroud of deception. “Meet Moz—Joy. That’s her name in English. She was abandoned by her pack and found me about a month ago.”
“Found you…?”
Castiel nods. “Mm. I was on a walk when she came right up to me.” He kisses her muzzle. “She was lost, too. Weren’t you?” he asks her with a smile. Looking at Dean, he says, “she must have sensed me.”
“Sensed you. Right.”
Except the more Dean thinks about it, the more he becomes convinced of the fact that—yeah, of course a wolf found Cas in the middle of fucking Kansas when they haven’t been here for generations. Of course. And of course, the dumbass decided to make friends with it. And of course… of course he look so happy, sitting on the muddy ground, play-fighting with a frickin’ predator. A-And he reaches into his freaking lunchbox to get a piece of raw porc and feed it to what should be a dangerous, wild animal.
But she’s not, here. She’s… sweet. Misunderstood. Happy. Above all, Dean can tell she’s happy. That she makes him happy. And honestly, that’s kind of all Dean’s ever wanted; he just never thought it’d come in the form of a fully grown wolf.
“Jesus, Cas, you’re amazing,” Dean breathes, totally overcome. His eyes widen and his face heats. Cas pauses. “I—uh. I mean, an amazing friend. Best friend. You’re an amazing, um, best… ah… Cas…?” The last is whispered just before Castiel kisses him.
In the forest behind the Bunker, in the company of a freaking wolf, Cas just gets up, walks over, and lays one on him. “Thank you,” he murmurs upon pulling away. His hand comes up to entwine with Dean’s. He steps forward. “Come meet her. Moz, come say hi to Dean.”
Dean wakes to the feeling of a warm body in his arms.
He blinks his eyes slowly. In front of him, he sees a head of dark, messy hair.
Oh. He’s had this dream before.
Dean closes his eyes again and wraps his arms tighter around Cas. He shifts closer and blindly presses his mouth to the back of Cas’s head.
“Mornin’, Cas,” Dean says, voice hoarse from sleep. Cas is stirring, Dean can feel it. He waits expectantly, wondering if his subconscious had decided to bless him with sleepily affectionate Cas or perhaps something a little… hotter.
Cas tensing up in his hold though… that was new.
“Dean?”
That wasn’t Cas’s voice.
Dean blinks again and lifts his head to find Sam staring at him in wide-eyed shock. Sam is standing in the kitchenette of the extended stay motel room, a bowl of oatmeal forgotten in his hands.
For a moment, nothing makes sense. Then, abruptly, it does.
The endless string of ‘no vacancy’ signs until they’d finally found a single room open. Finding out that room only had two queen beds. Drawing lots to see who was sharing their bunk.
Being too aware of Cas’s even breathing next to him to fall asleep. Blowing years of carefully concealed longing and buried feelings because Dean Winchester can’t fucking tell the difference between dreams and reality when he’s half-asleep.
Fuck.
“Dean?” And that is Cas, awake and twisting in Dean’s arms.
Dean looks back at Cas, feeling a bit like he’s staring down an oncoming train. There’s no way to play this off, no way to claim he’d been dreaming of… of Lisa or Cassie or someone, and he’s still holding Cas, shit-
Cas’s hand comes up and Dean flinches, almost expecting to get punched, but the hand that cups his cheek is gentle. Dean opens his eyes again just in time to see Cas close the last of the distance between them and lay a gentle kiss on the corner of Dean’s mouth.
Merry Christmas to all Destiel shippers out there, I love you all! ❄
“Come
on, Cas… I’ve got something to show you.”
Dean
impatiently pulls Castiel along, leading him through the halls of the bunker,
afraid that he’ll chicken out if he doesn’t get this show on the road right now. It’s Christmas Eve, and
neither of them are actually drunk, but they are both pleasantly buzzed. Truth
be told, there’s just enough alcohol in Dean’s system for him to not lose the
courage to do what he’s been planning to do all day.
Their
shoulders bump as they walk, Dean’s hand loosely grasping Castiel’s wrist. The
angel doesn’t seem to mind, and Dean considers that a good start. He’s going to
do this. He can do this. Because if he
doesn’t do it now, he probably never will.
When they
reach Dean’s room, Dean tugs his friend inside and firmly closes the door
behind them. He sits on the edge of the bed, patting the empty space beside him
to invite Cas to follow his example. Cas does, with a gentle smile and a hint
of curiosity in those big blue eyes. God, Dean is such a sucker for those eyes;
the look Cas gives him is going to make this either more difficult or -if Dean’s
shitty luck takes a day off for once-, a bit easier.
Now that
they’re both sitting here in their ugly Christmas sweaters (Donna had decided
to knit one for everyone, and Sam had
insisted that it would be rude not to wear them tonight), Dean realizes how
utterly ridiculous his plan probably is. And this whole situation for that
matter.
Yet,
somewhere in some hidden corner of his being he gathers the strength to blurt
out what he’d been dying to say all day.
“So
yeah, Cas… About that other Christmas present that I mentioned earlier, the
one I’d rather give you in private…” Dean clears his throat, stalling, deep
down afraid of Castiel’s reaction.
But Cas’
eyes light up as he clearly remembers that promise, and it encourages Dean to
keep going.
“I
just… It’s something I kinda wanted to give you for a long time, but you can
totally say no if it’s… if it’s not something you want.”
Cas looks
confused now, and Dean’s voice fails to offer any more words. And so Dean
points to the ceiling, hoping that the message will come across without him
having to say it out loud. To let Cas know what he wants, Dean Winchester
style.
Playing
along immediately, Castiel tilts his head and follows Dean gaze, slowly blinking
at the mistletoe that’s hanging right over their heads, there were Dean had put
it up earlier that day when he’d come up with plan ’finally-confess-those-feelings-to-Cas’.
There’s a
long silence, during which Dean feels his heart sink to his stomach, afraid
that he ruined everything. And on freaking Christmas Eve, nonetheless. Stupid,
stupid Dean.
But then he
feels a warm hand on the side of his neck. And another one on his knee. And the
second he actually lowers his gaze to look at Cas, soft lips are already
crashing into Dean’s with so much eagerness that it instantly makes Dean giddy.
He kisses back without a second thought, pulling Cas as close as physically
possible. When they’re both out of breath they slow down, taking turns, pressing
butterfly kisses to each other’s lips. After a while, they’re just resting
their foreheads together, neither of them talking.
Dean’s thankful for the not talking part. He prefers actions, and he’s glad that Cas gets it.
The two of them have a special way of talking, one that they can both
understand without saying a word.
The only words
that Cas gives him are “Merry
Christmas, Dean”, and Dean enthusiastically says them back.
Title: Though The Course May Change Author:imogenbynight Artist:jigglykat Rating: Explicit Length: 51k Pairings: Dean/Cas Warnings: Canon typical violence, explicit sexual content, switch!deancas Trope list: Fake Relationship, Casefic, Pining, Fallen!Cas, Dean playing guitar, “Platonic” Bed Sharing
After a couple who went missing several years ago from an Oregon couples retreat are mysteriously returned on the same night that another disappears, Dean and Charlie plan to go undercover to find the cause–until Dean’s foot meets his mouth, and he finds himself fake-engaged to Castiel instead.
Summary: In his head Dean understands that no one is actually leaving him, but as they pack boxes and tear down beds it sure feels that way. Sam is moving in with his fiance Jess, his best friends Cas and Benny deployed to Afghanistan, and Dean is going to live on his own for the next eight months until Cas gets back and they resume their roles as roommates.
Just before they finish loading the moving truck Dean finds a long-forgotten box under Cas’s bed crammed full of handwritten letters. Most of them are from Cas’s sister Anna, but some are labeled for Dean. He can only resist reading for so long, and once he starts he can’t stop. Each letter reveals more of Cas’s perspective on their relationship over the four years they’ve known each other, and with each one Dean finds himself changing too.
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating: Mature
Status: COMPLETE 17/17
Current Word Count: 56,337 words
Tags: love letter au, soldier!cas, mechanic!dean, pining, soooooo much pining, selectively mute Dean Winchester, unrequited love, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, depression,
I’ve been meaning to make a Dom!Cas/Sub!Dean rec list for awhile, but alwaysslytherinme’s request has finally spurred me to do it. So here we go!
10. Decadence, Baby Series – By: Misha_Anon – Exclusively Dom!Castiel and sub!dean (end!verse) power exchange stories.
9. Like A Thrift Store Jacket, Still Good But Used – By: Trieduntrue -Dean is a natural bottom, loves to take it up the ass like no one’s business. Problem is, he’s hung like a horse, or at least big enough he pings every guy’s secret size kink. So, Dean ends up topping even though that’s not what he wants. Enter Castiel.
8. You Are Beautiful in All Things – By: Tempusborealis – Cas wakes Dean up the best of ways. When Dean meets all his expectations and more, Cas gives him the praise he deserves.
7. Now Accelerate Hard – By: Whithertits – Dean is a hunter who did not so much fall into a D/s relationship as saunter into one without noticing.
6. Shut Your Mouth – By: Runoutofwit -Dean’s not sure how they ended up this way, but he doesn’t care. He didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect Castiel, Angel of the Lord, to be the equivalent of a hormone-ravaged teenager, and he sure as hell didn’t expect him to be an asshole about it.
5. Castiel’s Boy Series – By: DC_Derringer – Dean needs a good, strong top to fulfill his needs. Castiel is worried for his safety and takes on the role himself.
4. Dean Smith Verse – By: TamrynEradani – Dean Smith is a man of routine. Castiel takes him apart.
3. Carry On– By: TamrynEradani – When Sam gets into Stanford, Dean needs a bigger paycheck than Bobby’s garage can give him. Luckily, he knows a guy.
2. Except Thou Bless Me– By: Architeuthis – Castiel is wroth, and Dean is having a great time.
1. Keep Looking For Water – By: Anonymous – power exchange, spanking, praise, light bondage, hand-feeding.
**I love, love, love recommendations, too, so if you got any, shoot me an ask. Please, oh please?**
It hits Dean like a ton of bricks; his thoughts have tumbled like a Jenga tower, pieces crashing onto the floor in a way that makes his head ring. Words like vulnerable and pining and something off swim before his eyes as he sits up, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes.
“Fuck.” The curse is breathed, like Dean is too tired and weak to do more then resign himself to the truth that has been causing his body to physically ache. “Fuck.”
He barely gets to the bathroom in time to vomit.
Clutching to the porcelain of the toilet, Dean digs his fingers into the hard surface, his fingers turning white as he coughs and gags. Exhausted, the hunter rests his head on the ceramic and heaves a deep breath.
The first thing, and arguably the most important, is that Cas isn’t Cas. Whatever happened in the cage—whatever stupid, self-sacrificial decision Castiel thought he’d make for the good of the world has probably landed himself a backseat in his body, with Satan driving the buggy. Just the thought makes Dean’s stomach roil.
The second is that he is in love.
He, Dean Winchester, King of the One-Night Stand, has fallen so deeply and blindly that he has no idea how to dig himself out. This love isn’t like the heart-racing, giddy thing he had with Cassie; or the steady, comfortable thing he had with Lisa; and it’s worlds removed from the nervous, uncomfortable, trance-like thing he has with Amara.
…This love is so profound it’s written in the marrow of his bones. It makes his heart race and his mouth go dry and his palms sweat and it’s so deeply comfortable that Dean doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s watching sunsets and taking cases close to home and retiring with arthritic hands and creaking knees. Wiping his mouth, Dean forces himself up with a grunt and goes to re-brush his teeth.
What is he supposed to do?
He’s got the Devil in his best friend, God’s psycho sister out have him in the most disturbing way possible, and his brother is riding the guilt train straight towards Dumb Decision-ville.
Sighing, Dean lets himself collapse on his bed once more, scooting over to one of the edges and looking at the negative space he’s left. He then bites his lip and turns away. “Cas?” he breathes into the darkness. “I know you’re riding shotgun, but maybe you can hear me anyway?”
Though Dean doesn’t expect an indication he’d been heard, he’s still disappointed when nothing happens. Exhaling a big, shaky breath, the hunter squeezes his eyes shut in his upset, refusing to cry. “I-I miss you.”
Nothing.
“…I love you.”
Silence.
And that’s when he remembers.
Pulling back the covers, Dean pads out of the room and down into the basement, feeling through the dark until he reaches the correct storage room. The coat is exactly where Lucifer had left it, and Dean grasps it tightly in his hands before walking briskly back to his bed.
Dean feels ridiculous, but he’s more distraught than concerned with how he must look, and so slips the garment on over his pjs, breathing in at the shoulder. It smells like Cas. “’M sorry,” he breathes into the fabric, fingers running along its edges. Even as soft as it is, his voice cracks. “Sorry that you felt like you had to do this, or wanted to do it, or… or whatever. Sorry, Cas.” Dean swallows thickly and wraps himself in both the coat and his covers as he makes himself comfortable, eyes once again drawn to empty space he instinctually leaves. “I’ll save you,” he vows quietly to the other side of his bed, reaching a hand out to touch the nothingness that rests there. “I promise, Cas.”
Letting his eyes slip shut, he buries himself further into the coat.
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