Cas is trying to fix breakfast when Dean falls in love.
They’ve always been together, even when they weren’t. They’ve always known that whatever exists between them is cosmic, is a fate not even they can refuse.
But it takes Dean walking into the kitchen and seeing Cas squinting at the toaster to really accept it.
“What are you doing?” Dean asks warily.
Cas just stares at the toaster, leaning forward slightly, all muscles tense like he’s ready to take flight. “Making toast.”
Dean isn’t sure whether he should be rolling his eyes or leaving the room quickly. He decides on continuing to investigate. “You don’t eat toast.”
Cas still doesn’t flinch. “You do.”
Dean nods. “Thanks for that. But why do you look like you’re at war with the toaster?”
Cas brushes the question away with a shake of his head, concentrating. When the toast pops up, he jumps, arms raising slightly in an almost defensive stance.
“What the hell, Cas?” Dean asks, finally irritated enough to let it show in his voice.
Cas moves to the toaster, still wearing an undershirt and boxers and looking nothing like the warrior angel he is. “I don’t understand why the toast pops out so aggressively. Maybe it’s a way for humans to get their blood flowing in the morning. But I don’t trust it.”
Dean pauses for a moment to let that sink in, then starts laughing, deep and loud guffaws from somewhere so deep it almost never sees daylight. And that’s when he falls in love.
He walks forward and accepts the plate of toast Cas is proudly thrusting toward him, and sets it on the counter.
“Don’t you want to eat?” Cas asks, face falling slightly.
Dean runs his hands through that messy, dark hair, then pulls Cas into his arms, locking his hands at the small of Cas’ back. “In a minute.”
and Dean got all busted up in some improbably high-stakes fight
and he thinks it’s his fault and that Cas is going to blame him for rushing off all recklessly and he’s READY for that fight like they can do rounds of ‘you need to take better care of yourself’ angry posturing for weeks
but Cas just comes over to where Dean’s sitting there stunned at not being dead next to their vanquished foe, bracing for Cas to say something
and Cas just kneels beside him and reaches out for Dean’s face in that sort of detached inspecting the damage way that Dean’s not exactly NOT comfortable with but it’s still just this side of too intimate for him
especially when Cas touches the bumps and cuts on Dean’s face looking all sad about it and doesn’t even heal them, just kind of… pokes… tenderly… at Dean’s face
is Cas broken?? can he not heal any more??
and then Cas, who still has a hand on Dean’s cheek but really losing the pretence of just looking after him, turns Dean’s face when he tries to look away, and leans in and presses their lips together
and then Dean feels that weird prickly-cold feeling of being healed but he really does not notice it because what the fuck Cas just kissed him
and then Cas pulls away and gets up and is like “you need to take better care of yourself” and Dean’s like “fuck you I had it under control” and then they leave the room still arguing
in which dean and cas are actual boyfriends (12×10 preview)
WTF….. Seriously??!!! I do not know what to think anymore… They act MARRIED here.. WTF??????
But seriously though? The silent treatment? REALLY? Also what exactly has caused this silent treatment? Because this isn’t an immediate follow on from last episode. I can’t wait to see what kind of petty fight they had. The best part about this is SAM. Because this is not Sam’s fight clearly, as he is the one to try to talk some sense into them AND he is the one feeling like an awkward third wheel in the middle of an old married couples domestic. And they say Destiel isn’t real! LMAO!
Okay, yes, hashtag MARRIED (for real) but can we also talk about Sam suggesting they put on music and DEAN TURNS HIM DOWN? Dean, he who avoids conversation by cranking the volume all the way up whenever he doesn’t want to talk, WANTS TO SIT IN THE UNCOMFORTABLE TENSE SILENCE?
Sometimes it feels like on a subconscious level, when they don’t even know they’re doing it, Dean and Cas have a type.
A+ casting
Dean imagines a devil with dark hair and blue eyes (and angel right after, btw, so that they’re kissing and distinguishing one from the other is almost impossible): a fantasy that is meant to be kept private. We don’t see Dean getting with a lot of girls that look like the above. And yet, as Anna says, “This is what you dream about.” Front and center in Dean’s dreams is a devil with blue eyes, dark hair – no, that’s wrong, angel. Feminine, blonde, has to be long blonde hair, not short and dark like a man – the second girl is almost an autocorrective impulse.
For him, this Type is Something He Can’t Have, so he doesn’t go after it. Even when it’s right in front of his nose.
Same for Castiel. Daphne, a wife with green eyes and soft brown/auburn hair that takes him into her home without any questions asked, is not something that’s available as long as he stays who he undeniably is. Castiel has to change himself, give up huge parts of himself, in order to remain with her. And he does sacrifice that happy life he has with her in order to do what he was always meant to: smite demons, help the Winchesters, be righteous and holy and unbreakable again.
As long as Castiel remembers who he is, this Type is Something He Can’t Have, so he doesn’t go after it. Even when it’s right in front of his nose.
Both of them think that it’s impossible to get a firm hold on their Type in the real world. Which is why they’ll always be confined to dreams, never acted upon, always subconsciously played out across our screens in the most frustrating ways imaginable.
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.
Tumblr backup 