Dean brings it up one day. They are having breakfast in the map room, Sam is out for a run and Cas has jam on the corner of his mouth. The most eloquent thing Dean can come up with after he’s been rolling it around in his head for months is, “So, marriage?” Dean tries to keep his cool, he tries not to squirm, to settle his heart rate, to not behave like a tween who’s just met her idol in person.
“Yes,” Cas says and Dean’s heart feels like it is about to jump straight out of his chest but Cas isn’t done, “It baffles me that some humans think they can speak for God when they try to withhold two people from getting married. Marriage was around before Christianity and if it was ordained by God then why do human think they can impose restrictions on it?”
Dean deflates, it’s going to be weeks before he has the courage to do this again. “Yeah man, that’s messed up.” He manages weakly.
Dean keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich but he can feel Cas looking at him.
“In ancient Greece people could get married simply by holding their beloved’s hand and stating their intent to marry.” Cas says and Dean can hear the smile in his voice before he looks up.
Cas is looking at him with what Dean has fondly called his serial-killer-in-love look. No matter how much Dean loves it, it is still disconcerting to have all of Cas’ attention so firmly on him. When Cas looks at him, Dean feels like he is really seen, not just his outside, not just his soul, but all of him and Cas loves it all. It is the most wonderful and terrifying thing.
“Oh?” Dean chokes out.
“Yes,” Cas confirms and extends his hand across the table towards Dean, who takes it. “No clergy, no civil servants or pieces of paper. Just…” Cas places his free hand on top of their joined ones and his gaze becomes, if anything, more intent. “I marry you, Dean Winchester.”
Dean isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry so he does both and he adds his free hand to the pile on the middle of the table. They sit there, like a couple of dumbasses, their sandwiches shoved to the side, holding hands over central Asia, just smiling and staring.
Dean says, “I marry you, Castiel.” and he kisses the jam from Cas’ mouth and that’s that.
(They do is the modern way too, a few weeks later. They go to the court house file for a marriage license under Dean Campbell and Castiel Winchester (that way they both still get to be Winchesters) and come back the next day.
Sam is there and Claire and Jody. Dean cries again and the justice of the peace smiles when she pronounces them married. Cas kisses him in a way that is maybe a little inappropriate for a government building.)
Art I was fortunate enough to do for @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper‘s incredible fic, The Walk. If you haven’t already, do yourselves a favor, and go read it. Go read it right this instant. I will personally never stop crying about this beautiful story.
This is now my phone background, no joke. This is amazing and you are amazing.
Cas looks up with that sort of hopeful/disbelieving smile and thanks Dean wholeheartedly for the ID and then keeps looking back at it and then at Dean nervously, and Dean’s shifting awkwardly like, what, it’s just an ID, no big deal, right? And sweating bullets about his whimsical choice to make Cas family this way and oh no what if he doesn’t want to what if he LEAVES. But he says, I’m glad you, um, like it… and Cas says yes, I – and then doesn’t know how to say it, and Dean’s like wait is it overreaching to have done this and says you don’t have to use it, it’s okay and Cas says no I want to – and then he’s looking at Dean all squinty like what is going ON here so he clarifies, I’m honoured. And Dean’s like yeah, uh. It’s not that big a deal, and Cas rolls his eyes like of course it is, of course I’ll be your partner. And Dean’s internally going FBI partner or –
(Actually I literally can’t get to an end of this, it’s just going to be them squinting and blushing for about 3k more words or until Sam interrupts)
Now this is the kind of emotionally repressed quality bullshit I’m here for.
3k words later, when Sam comes striding into the library with his nose buried in his laptop, announcing that he thinks he’s found a new case. He looks up and sees the both of them standing there, Cas holding the ID that he’d helped Dean make, both of them looking so entirely flustered he’s amazed neither of them has actually burst into flames yet.
“Guys?” Sam says, hesitating about ten feet shy of the table, mentally kicking himself for not having run for his life before he’d stumbled into the middle of whatever the hell the two of them are currently being weird about. Then he spots the ID pinched between Cas’s fingertips, the edges of the card threatening to cut into his skin with how hard he’s clamped on to it. Sam frowns, because the level of tension in the library is practically smothering, and wonders how Dean managed to screw up what was supposed to be a gesture of welcome this badly, unless… no, he couldn’t believe Cas would actually refuse the official acknowledgement that he was part of the family, could he?
Dean awkwardly clears his throat and shoots Sam a panicked look. Sam had considered fleeing while he’d had a chance, but it was too late now. He glances over at Cas, who’s looking at Dean with a mix of confusion, resignation, and heartbreak.
“Um…” Dean tries, but his voice cracks and fades as he looks from Sam’s wary face back to Cas, and whatever he’d been trying to say dies on his lips.
Sam’s first instinct is crack some joke or tease the both of them, just to break the tension. He sets his laptop on the table, and has the good sense not to risk making whatever this is even worse. He decides to go with cautious friendliness. He can pull out the floppy, friendly puppy bumbling into things. Yep, that’s definitely the best way to bring down the tension.
He takes a deep breath and walks over to Cas, smiling fondly and nodding down at the ID card. “You like it?” Sam asks, adding an eager eyebrow raise into the friendly puppy face. “Dean thought it was about time we made you an official Winchester. Well, at least as official as anyone who’s been declared legally dead on more than one occasion.”
Cas blanches and frowns, tearing horrified eyes from Sam and looking down at the little plastic card in his hands. He speaks in a low, careful voice. “Is that all you wanted, Dean?”
“I, uh… “ A myriad of emotions cross Dean’s face, but when Cas looks back up at him, pinning him with the weight of hope in his eyes, Dean clears his throat and takes a deep fortifying breath. “Can you give us a minute, Sam?”
He doesn’t bother to wait for a reply before grabbing Cas by the shoulder and steering him through the door. Sam considers calling out and reminding them that they have a case, but he figures it can wait for a few minutes.
There’s some quiet mumbling in the hallway that he decides he definitely does not need to hear, followed by hurried footsteps and the slamming of a door. Against his better judgment, he goes to investigate. If his little family has just suffered some sort of emotional explosion, he figures it’ll fall to him to try and collect the pieces.
Sam cautiously approaches Dean’s door, one hand raised to knock. He hesitates when he hears a strange noise. Is that… is Dean crying? He’s about to knock when he hears what’s inarguably Cas moaning, followed by a lot of shuffling and a loud floomp noise as something lands on the bed.
Sam backs away from the door, turns on his heel, and then walks back to the library as fast as his feet will take him. Yeah, the case can probably wait a few hours… maybe even a few days…
Dean and Cas have built the most staggeringly compelling relationship over their four+ shared years – I don’t even know how to comprehend it. They are brothers in arms, brothers in spirit, best of friends, bound to each other, lovers in everything but body. Despite war and betrayal and death, Castiel always returns to Dean. And Dean always finds him. Dean Winchester made a place in his heart and life for an angel. That is so huge. The man who was raised to hunt and hate the supernatural, who had no faith, who distrusted anyone who was not blood – prayed every night to an absent friend, refused to leave the land of the undead without him, put his life on the line for Cas’. Cas betrayed his very nature for Dean. Cas has lived for millennia, yet in one short year, he abandoned everything he knew and was for the sake of this human. And after all of it, all the hurt and guilt and confusion, he still thanks Dean, “for everything.” Because he still thinks it was worth it.
If that’s not love, there is no love.
A/N: I bet you thought I was done with horrible, fluffy, food-based ficlets, but YOU WERE WRONG! SO, SO WRONG!
So this one is inspired by a cracky conversation I had with @sunshine-hunters, in which we decided that Cas is probably a picky eater who does ridiculous things like pick raisins out of his food, and this is now my new favorite headcanon.
Naturally, I had to write it, and then it turned disgustingly fluffy. I’m so sorry.
“Hey, Cas, gimme your opinion on this,” Dean says,
handing him a cookie.
Castiel takes it gently, reverently. It’s still warm from the
oven, the rest of the batch cooling on top of the stove, and the kitchen smells delightful. It’s not often that Dean bakes – he prefers to whip up burgers or
steaks, or the odd hearty stew or casserole – but occasionally Dean will get in a “mood” and
decide to use up some of the flour sitting in the bunker’s pantry, and
then he’ll bake and bake until Sam laughingly tells him they’re all going to get fat. It was fudge brownies last time, and apple pies the time
before that.
This time, apparently, it’s cookies.
“It smells very good, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly, and Dean flashes him a grin before turning back to the oven.
Castiel brings the cookie closer and
inhales again. A discerning sense of smell is just one of his angelic perks, and he enjoys smelling Dean’s
cookies much more than smelling dead bodies. He recognizes just a waft of vanilla, and brown sugar, and a
hint of nutmeg, and –
“Raisins?” he asks, looking up. “There’s raisins in
this?”
Dean glances over. “Uh, yeah, Cas, that’s where they’re
called ‘oatmeal raisin cookies’.”
Castiel squints at the cookie, anticipation ebbing away, and now he feels a little… well, cheated.
Dean watches him for a
moment, then turns to face him and leans back against the
counter.
“What’s wrong with raisins? I mean, they’re no chocolate chips, but they’re all right.”
Castiel grumbles. “I don’t like raisins.”
“Huh. You’ve tried raisins before?”
“…no.”
“What? Then how the hell do you
know you don’t like them?”
“I just do,” Castiel says primly.
Dean makes a face. “That’s not an answer.”
“I can tell. By their smell.”
“Raisins have a smell? That’s…well, kinda gross. But not everything tastes the way it
smells, Cas, some things are misleading and – hey! Stop picking out the
raisins, you fucking heathen!”
Castiel freezes guiltily with a raisin pinched between
his fingers. Dean levels a finger at him and
glares.
“Leave the raisins alone, Cas, they’re in there for a reason. It won’t taste the same without them.”
“Good,” Castiel mutters.
“Cas. Take a bite of the damn cookie.”
Castiel sighs and shoots him a mutinous look, too quickly for Dean to see, but
dutifully raises the cookie to his mouth and takes a slow bite. Dean’s eyes are
fixated on him, scrutinizing, watching him chew with an intensity usually
reserved for working a case or watching one of his soap operas.
“Good, yeah?” Dean finally prompts.
Castiel nods slowly, but he doesn’t open his mouth to respond. His mouth is still full of cookie that he refuses to swallow.
“You still have it in your mouth, don’t
you?”
Castiel hesitates, then nods again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you big baby,” Dean sighs, but he doesn’t actually sound angry. “Fine, just spit it out then – not on the table! What the fuck is wrong with you, I just wiped that down! I meant in the trashcan! Christ – here –“
He thrusts his open hand in front of Castiel, palm
up. It’s obvious what Dean is indicating – the gesture is unmistakable – so Castiel spits out the bite of cookie into Dean’s
waiting hand.
Dean makes a face, wrinkling his nose in disgust, but stalks over
to the trashcan and throws away the bite of cookie. He immediately goes to the
sink and flips on the faucet, starting to wash his hands.
“You are so lucky I love you, Cas,” he gripes,
scrubbing his hands together vigorously. “Do you know how many people I’ve let
spit food into my hands? Two. Sammy when he was little, and Ben. Two kids, not grown-ass adult angels.” He turns off the faucet and snatches up a paper towel, drying his hands as he turns back around. “I mean, at least it wasn’t fucking gum – there is nothing worse than carrying around chewed gum – but raisins
are a close second – “
Castiel is staring at him. He knows he’s staring, but
he can’t help it. The cookie is still grasped in his hand, forgotten, horrible
raisins and all.
Dean stops, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“You said you love me.”
Both eyebrows shoot up this time, in a way that looks
distinctly panicked. “What?” Dean repeats. It’s the same word, but an entirely different tone of voice.
“You said -” He raises his empty hand so he can add air-quotes, “- ‘you
are so lucky I love you -‘”
Dean splutters. Throws the paper towel at the trashcan. Misses. “That was – Jesus, Cas, that’s just a turn of phrase, you know I didn’t – you’ve been
around humans long enough to – “
“I love you too.”
Dean sucks in a breath like someone just
punched him in the stomach. “What?” he says, a third time.
Castiel sets down the cookie on the table, brushing
off his fingers on his coat, and stands up. “I love you too.” He moves
around the table towards Dean, who’s standing frozen against the counter looking
remarkably like ‘a deer in the headlights’, as he’s heard people say. “I’ve loved
you for a long time. When I first cupped your soul in my hands and lifted you
out of Hell. When you fought me and raged against me and refused Heaven. When I spent every day in Purgatory trying to stay one step ahead of
you.”
It doesn’t look like Dean is even breathing. Castiel is starting to become a little concerned, but he needs to finish saying these things now that he’s started, or he might never take the chance again.
“I love the way you sing along to the radio, and the way you always make
the hard choices even though you hate them, and the way you say my name. I love how a successful hunt makes you happy, but so does baking. Although,” he adds, because he feels like he needs to be entirely honest here,
even if it hurts Dean’s feelings, “I do not like your oatmeal raisin cookies.”
That does it, finally, and Dean bursts into a startled
laugh, some of the tension ebbing out of his shoulders. He laughs until he snorts, and
then he raises a hand and rubs it across his face. Pinches the bridge of his nose. Covers his eyes. “Jesus, Cas – “
And then Dean kisses him, both hands coming forward to cup Castiel’s
jaw and curl his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.
It feels like he’s waited millennia for this, and Castiel kisses him
back.
So I was just watching some older movies, one of them being Romeo and Juliet.
And the last scene starts.
The one where Romeo sees the love of his life. And he thinks she’s dead, but it turns out she’s not (why am I explaining this everyone knows how the story goes)
Anyways guys, DO YOU SEE THIS?!
Wtf???
I’m not a meta person, so I don’t know what to conclude. Can someone help please?
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