Dean hates a lot of things.
Scuzzy payphones, witches, people messing with his kitchen, shitty water pressure… the list goes on.
At the very top of that list, however, is easily Cas’s new favorite sweater.
"Hey, Cas, have you seen— what the fuck are you wearing?" had been Dean’s initial reaction to the thing, a hideous grey-blend cat hoodie that any 16-year-old black and white film enthusiast would shit their pants over.
Cas just blinked owlishly at him before looking down at the sweater, tugging at a loose thread. He smiled. “I went thrift store shopping. It’s incredible what people are willing to part with.” He looked back up at Dean, all beams and goddamn sunshine in his gaze. “Would you believe I only paid six dollars for it?”
"Oh yeah," Dean said slowly, gradually processing the multitudes of ways in which he could burn, bury and otherwise dispose of that… thing. “I can believe it.”
I started thinking about Dean and Cas getting married and I’m really emotional because I just thought about what would happen if they both decided to propose to each other at the same time and they were sitting together like “hey I need to talk to you about something” - “yeah, me too - but you go first, it’s cool”
and then Cas asks Dean to marry him, and Dean is like nO WAY THAT’S NOT FAIR and for a second Cas is upset because he thinks Dean doesn’t want to marry him - but then Dean starts wrestling in his pockets for his ring like “no fuckin way you aren’t gonna beat me to this!!!”
and Cas is like “dean it’s not a competition!!!” except it kind of is, and right now Dean is winning because he’s got the ring out and Cas’ ring is still in his pocket, so Cas gets down on his knees and Dean is yelling at him like NO CAS stAY ON THE COUCH I’M ///PROPOSING TO YOU//// and Cas is like I DID IT FIRST DON’T STEAL MY THUNDER
AND AND THEY’RE JUST KNEELING ON THE FLOOR TOGETHER SQUABBLIGN AND SHOVING RINGS AT EACH OTHER LIKE “TAKE IT. FUCKIN TAKE IT, TAKE MY RING. NO, I’M NOT TAKING YOUR STUPID RING UNTIL YOU TAKE MINE FIRST”
guys i have to go to the store but while i’m gone pls consider dean taking cas to barnes & noble and cas sitting crosslegged in the children’s section reading to some kids
Dean took him to find books for himself because he’s such a voracious reader that he’s been through pretty much everything in the bunker. But, after Dean wanders off to look at car magazines Castiel sees some children looking through a big kid’s encyclopedia-type book and he sort of slowly migrates to them because they’re giggling and he’s curious and it’s much more interesting than what he was looking at, anyway.
When Dean comes back twenty minutes later to see if he’s made any progress on finding something he wants to read, Castiel is nowhere near the American Literature section where he was left. Dean can’t help grumbling under his breath ‘cause last time this happened, he found Cas on the floor surrounded by Bibles looking very stressed out and not at all pleased.
This time, it takes another ten minutes to track him down. When Dean finally finds him, Castiel is sitting in the middle of a pile of pillows with a book of Shel Silverstein’s poetry and a crowd of children of all ages in various states of giggle fits and awe at his ability to do cool voices and not trip over his words.
Dean edges slowly closer, finger to his lips to keep the kids from giving him away. He takes a seat a few feet behind Castiel to listen, too; grinning like an idiot as Cas bounces through one poem after another.
Dean Winchester wakes up across from an angel one morning.
It’s barely past six when he reaches down to pull the blanket up to his chin. He bites at his lip and tries to ignore the way his hands shake slightly; instead, he watches the angel next to him wake up slowly. He memorizes it—the way Cas’s breath shivers out of his body, the way his lips part on a sigh, and the way his eyelashes flicker. When they lift, the sun makes his eyes look like the ocean does from outer space.
Cas squints at Dean a little, only halfway conscious, and blinks a few times. Once, twice, and that’s when Dean remembers: he doesn’t know what the sea looks like from outer space, and Cas isn’t an angel anymore.
The thought makes the hunter laugh a tiny bit, the sound muffled into the blanket. When Cas lifts his head, his cheek has little creases and indents on it from the pillowcase; Dean wants to touch the marks, wants to feel Cas’s skin under his fingertips, wants to wonder at how humans are so malleable, but he gets distracted by the way his friend’s hair is tangled and sticks up weirdly and is full of static electricity. He gets distracted by how when Cas stretches, his joints crack and snap and pop like fireworks.
He is the picture of imperfection. Dean wants to press his lips to every square inch of him.
Cas smiles sleepily as he wraps himself closer to Dean, tucks his head against the hunter’s chest. I think I’m dreaming, he breathes, and traces his fingers along Dean’s hip.
I hope to God we’re not, Dean thinks; waking up from you would be a tragedy. Later, over breakfast, they trade kisses that taste like syrup and powdered sugar.
It takes Dean Winchester six days to realize that Castiel is not a dream. It takes him seven to have the heart to tell Cas he needs to start combing his hair. It takes him eight to press the words I love you into the hollow of Cas’s collarbone; the words are soft and sweet like powdered sugar, I love you I love you I love you, and Cas laughs before he grabs his face to kiss him. I love you I love you I love you.
They fall asleep that night talking about fireworks, and how the ocean looks from outer space.
you bet your ass cas would call sex “making love” and refer to their first time as “when dean deflowered me” in public and dean chokes on his coffee so hard that he’s bent over redfaced, coughing up a lung while sam laughs hysterically and cas just looks at them thinking why do i associate with humanity
Because they’re Castiel and Dean Winchester, they choose to break into the ice rink after hours rather than go through proper channels and God forbid pay someone to fall on their asses. At least they actually bought their skates (whether it was with fraudulent credit cards or not is besides the point). What can they say, breaking and entering does offer a nice and intimate sort of adrenaline fuelled foreplay.
"You know I’ve never skated a day in my life," Dean laughs as they lace up their skates after finding the light switch for the rink.
"It can’t be that difficult," Castiel innocently promises.
He turns out to be very, very wrong.
Well, at least where his skill is concerned. Dean actually gets the hang of the balancing act pretty quick, much to the detriment of Cas’ ego.
"Dude, you’re going at it like it’s a battle you have to win or something. Don’t think about it too hard,” Dean consoles him while chuckling, as he helps Cas pick himself off the ice yet again.
Castiel dusts his knees off, scowling. “It is a battle,” he says. “Between me and gravity, apparently.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Here,” he proposes, shuffling to stand next to him, and sticking out his arm for Castiel to take. “Hold onto me until you get the hang of it.”
Castiel glances at him like he’s very doubtful about the efficacy of this plan, but wraps his hand around Dean’s forearm tightly anyway.
"This is extremely embarrassing," he grumbles, as they start off skating slow.
"Yeah, well, good thing we’re all alone. You only have me to embarrass yourself to," Dean grins, and gets so distracted by the ensuing frown on Cas’ face that his blade hits a dip in the ice and he trips and falls gracelessly, flailing for a second before falling onto his back. He blinks up at Castiel, who seems to have fallen down on top of him.
"Good thing you only have me to embarrass yourself to,” Castiel repeats back at him smugly, and it’s all Dean can do then to grab his face and kiss him to shut him up.
Dean sneaks into the Emperors garden at night.
He ignores the trees, their branches heavy with fruit, and the bushes with their sweet scented flowers, and heads to the center of the garden where a beautiful golden cage is erected.
There is a man living in the cage, a man with brilliant, sparkling black wings.
He is the emperor’s pet - a pretty caged bird given as a gift. His name is Castiel and Dean loves him with all his heart. Castiel’s job is to sing for the emperor, to soothe him to sleep with his lullabies. He is displayed in the gardens, trapped in a gilded cage, just another one of the fabulous prizes the emperor owns.
Castiel has stopped singing for the emperor, but he sings for Dean, a trilling, soft song only for his ears. A love song.
Dean slips his hands through the bars of the cage and Castiel holds them, singing his pretty song and beating his wings.
Dean wishes he could free him but he doesn’t know how. Until he finds a way, he visits Castiel each night and swears his devotion to him.
He will set Castiel free and then they’ll be together the way they should be, with no bars between them.
But… imagine Dean is a Kindergarten teacher
And Cas volunteers as a recess/lunch supervisor
And Dean has been crushing on him all along, and always brings him coffee - just how he likes it - when he’s outside in the cold, and bakes cookies for the days Cas is working (oatmeal raisin, because Cas once let slip they’re his favourite).
And then some of Dean’s class come up to him when they’re making Valentines cards, and ask if he’s going to give one to Mr Novak, “Because you like him, right?”
And Dean stammers, trying to explain “it’s not like that" but the kids insist and drag him over to one of the tables to help him make one.
And at lunch time, Dean is towed across the yard by three very excited five-year-olds and blushes furiously when he sheepishly hands Cas an oversized card that is drowning in glitter and multi-coloured, cut-out paper hearts.
And the little ones tug at Cas’s hands, looking sad, and ask “Don’t you have a card for Mr Winchester? Don’t you like him back?" and Dean tries to mouth that it’s okay; to let Cas know that he doesn’t mind, though he thinks actually his heart might be breaking a little, because he always hoped…
And Cas blushes, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a small envelope which he hands to Dean.
When Dean opens it, he finds just a simple piece of paper, with the words “I like other food, besides cookies. Want to get dinner with me some time?" with a tiny heart drawn next to it.
And when he looks up, Cas is beaming at him, and he just knows he has a stupid, goofy grin on his own face, but he doesn’t care.
And three five-year-olds skip off across the yard, giggling, to play on the jungle gym. Because Mr Novak and Mr Winchester are being all weird and smiley, and “eww, that’s gross.”
He’s already watched the commercial like six times before he gets what it’s about. It keeps coming on during the breaks in between episodes of the Sunday afternoon M.A.S.H. marathon. Smiling people swinging each other in their arms, looking at each other across tables in coffee shops, curling up together in sock feet on a couch in a perfectly pristine apartment with a lot of light and some ferns. At first he thinks it’s an advertisement for like, that lube that gets warm on its own. But he watches these people smile dopey smiles at each other over yogurt parfaits for the seventh time and it finally hits him: it’s a dating commercial. The logo is a laptop with a heart around it. It’s an online dating commercial.
"You should do that," Sam says, from his chair across the room. He’s looking up from his own laptop with a weird smile on his face, nodding at the television. Dean looks at him and then at the screen. There’s another bland-looking couple clutching each other on a rollercoaster, screaming in delight.
"Pass," Dean says. "I hate those things." The last time he was on a rollercoaster, he’d eaten four churros and a corndog beforehand and ended up chucking his contents behind a bush. Cas had calmly called it a miscalculation.
related to this (x)
“Okay!” Dean announces, grabbing the first bag. “First up, I have— flaming Cheetos.”
“Yo,” Charlie says, making grabby hands.
Dean tosses it to her. “Next up— Lays potato chips. You seriously wanted the pickle ones?”
“Yeah? So what?” Sam says from the couch, holding up his hands.
“So, that’s fucking disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Dean says, pitching it underhand.
“No shame,” Sam says in satisfaction, catching the bag and ripping it open. “Because now I’ll get to actually eat them, unlike the last five times.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Dean says dubiously. “Next— blood pops. Dude, please don’t ever make me buy these again.”
“Why?” Benny asks curiously, taking the box from him. “Someone try to stake you in the frozen food aisle, brother?”
Dean gives him a pained look. “The first box I got freaking melted and started dripping out the bottom of the cart. It looked like I’d straight-up murdered most of the groceries!”
“So that’s what this is,” Charlie says, looking down at the rusty streaks on her Cheetos. “Suddenly not so hungry anymore.”
“Exactly,” Dean says, digging deeper into the bag. “Wereboy! Scooby snacks!”
“Sweet,” Garth says, snagging them out of the air.
“And Kevin, I swear to God, you are eating your squid jerky on the deck. I can smell it through the plastic.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin says, rolling his eyes as he grabs it.
“And, last but not least— drumroll, please—” Garth and Charlie oblige him. “Fucking coconut charcoal, everyone! Yes, out of all of you losers, Puff the Lazy Dragon definitely wins this round of Why the Fuck Would You Put That on the House Shopping List,” Dean says, dumping the rest of the bag on the counter. “Speaking of, where is Cas?”
“Where else,” Sam says around of a mouthful of dill-flavored grossness.
“He hasn’t actually moved in, like, a month,” Kevin adds, flagrantly ignoring Dean’s edict to eat his fishy shit outside.
“Lies,” Benny says. “He’s been in the den at least once. There’s a new scorch mark on the coffee table.”
“What, seriously?” Dean groans.
“It was the newest episode of As the World Burns,” Charlie tells him. “Apparently Tiamat is carrying Marduk’s litter.”
“But isn’t Marduk the guy who— okay, whatever,” Dean says hastily as Charlie smirks and Sam arches an eyebrow. “I’ll be upstairs, then.”
“See you in June!” Garth calls after him.
There’s a comma-shaped lump in the middle of Dean’s bed when he turns the light on, under what looks like all the comforters in the house and no less than three electric blankets. “Anybody alive in here?”
“G’way,” the lump grumbles. “I’m hibernating.”
“If you’re hibernating, then you don’t need these,” Dean says, shaking the charcoal bag.
The lump jiggles, and a hand emerges to gesture demandingly at empty air. Dean sets the bag in Castiel’s palm and the hand retracts.
“I want you to know I had to go to Crate and Barrel to find that crap,” Dean says, walking to drop his bag next to his desk and toss his coat over a chair. He pulls off his sweatshirt, and after a moment’s consideration toes off his socks and ditches his jeans, too.
The only answers from the lump are crunching noises, and Dean smiles and digs through the geologic layers of bedding until he finds the fitted sheet and Castiel’s bare foot, which flinches away from exposure. “Cold,” complains the lump.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says, wiggling in under the surprisingly heavy pile.
Castiel is already shifting around to face him, breath hot enough on Dean’s cheek to make him yip and jerk away a little.
“Be quiet,” Castiel orders, sounding sleepy and grumpy, sneaking his hands under Dean’s shirt and hooking a leg over his knees. The bag of charcoal crinkles between them.
It’s mildly claustrophobic, and he’ll wake up sweating like a pig in half an hour, Dean knows. Still, he throws an arm over Castiel’s waist and tugs him closer, pressing a careless kiss to the side of his nose. “Go back to sleep,” he says, closing his own eyes.
“I’m trying,” Castiel sighs, scalding Dean’s neck from jaw to collar.
Dean swears and cups the back of Castiel’s head, pulling him closer so he can angle his chin up over his shoulder. “Jesus, point that somewhere else, would you?”
(writing this led me to this weird-ass website, which I like to think Castiel has bookmarked for easy Christmas gift ideas for nestmates Anna and Balthazar)
(Koko Charcoal at Crate and Barrel)
they don’t get along at first and Cas doesn’t want some rando who doesn’t even really care about his squad joining the team— but Dean is good at what he does and Cas lets him in with the threat that if Dean doesn’t perform to his fullest potential at every single practice and every single tournament, Cas’ll have no qualms about cutting him.
of course, one weekend while the whole squad is away on a tourney, Cas and Dean end up seated next to each other during a team dinner and get progressively drunker ordering drink after drink as they sit seething and trying not to talk to each other.
Cas accidentally jabs Dean in the side with an elbow while reaching for his food and Dean blows up like, “DUDE WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM WITH ME?!” to which Cas replies, “I DON’T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH YOU, YOU JUST HAVE AN ATTITUDE AND I DON’T LIKE PRIMADONNAS ON MY TEAM, YOU THINK YOU CAN ACT HOWEVER YOU LIKE JUST BECAUSE YOU’VE GOT SOME MOVES???”
and the whole team notices the shouting and Benny and Charlie are nearest to them, getting ready to pull them apart if it all turns south too quickly.
but then Dean’s like, “SO YOU DO THINK I’M GOOD, DON’T YOU, ASSHOLE?”
"YES, BUT YOU’RE THE MOUTHIEST PERSON I’VE EVER HAD THE DISPLEASURE OF KNOWING AND IT DETRACTS A LOT FROM YOUR APPEAL, DEAN."
"THEN WHY DON’T YOU SHUT ME UP, HUH BIGSHOT?"
and what looks like Cas about to punch Dean in the face actually turns into both of them reaching for each other and furiously sucking face until they get kicked out of the restaurant for public indecency, and Benny has to drive them home while they’re pawing at each other in the backseat of his car, amen lol.
Omg I wanted to download How I Met Your Mother but I typed How I Met Your
Brother and I imagined Sam sitting bored on a couch listening to Cas talking
about thousand years before he met Dean
Cas discerning every little cell of Dean’s skin when he runs a singular finger across his cheek; Cas listening to the rhythmic beating at Dean’s chest and picking out the accelerations and decelerations and spontaneous pauses; Cas feeling the pulse at Dean’s neck and hearing just the slightest indication of a stubborn blockage (he’s going to warn Dean with his fast food intake right after); Cas pressing himself comfortingly against Dean’s back and recognizing the tinges of a battered, misaligned spine; Cas kissing Dean’s hair and knowing the exact strands that’s turning pearly gray
Cas praising Dean’s every molecule because they’ve all come together to form the best humanity can offer—Cas loving Dean anatomically scientifically metaphysically and so, so entirely because that’s the only way he really knows how.
cas and dean as victoria’s secret ‘angels’
do you see what you can make me do if you come to livestreams
Castiel’s still got his wings on, glitter smeared on his collarbones, hair tousled to perfect model-ennui, but fuck if that doesn’t make him even hotter. Dean tells him so, licking into Castiel’s mouth and crowding him against the door of the bathroom stall, hand sliding down the muscled girth of Castiel’s thigh so he can snap one garter free of the stocking it clings to. It whips against Castiel’s skin, and Cas hisses between clenched teeth.
“Sorry,” Dean mumbles. “Didn’t mean to—“
“Shut up,” Castiel growls. “Don’t stop.” And then he’s the one pushing against Dean, rubbing catlike against him, and Dean can feel Castiel’s cock, straining and hard and warm, through the two flimsy layers of satin that separate them. Dean looks down, and sees a wet spot already darkens the front of the pink panties Cas wears. The visual makes him swallow, hard, and then he’s swallowing Castiel’s breath again instead, a frantic push and pull and rub and groan as each tries to devour the other with their tongues and fingertips.
“Fuck.” Dean kisses Cas again. His lips feel swollen. “Think I could come just looking at you.”
“The stylists will love that,” says Castiel. All hot and bothered, and he can still sound so dry.
“Fuck ‘em.” Dean reaches down the front of Cas’s panties and wraps his hand around his cock, and Cas gasps, bucks against Dean, and stops speaking in proper syllables.
au request: paleontologist dean + feral scientist/dinosaur-whisperer cas (jurassic park au)
guys this one is my favorite
“So you’re a—“
“I believe the correct term is dinosaur whisperer,” says Castiel. The tiniest edge of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he strokes the top of the diplodocus’s head, maybe out of idle habit, maybe to comfort the beast. Dean has no fucking clue. When Cas—mysterious, quirky, earnest Cas—had told him he had something more interesting than old, dusty bones to show him, Dean had had something very different in mind.
Castiel cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright, Dean?” he asks. “I did tell you I had something unusual you might be interested in.”
Cas looks so far away astride the dinosaur’s neck. Dean scrambles into a standing position—and nope, that doesn’t help, because he’s still trying to reach eye level with a fucking dinosaur.
“Sorry man, it’s just a little hard to keep my cool when the hot guy I was chatting up swoops in with an extinct goddamn species.” And maybe Dean is aiming for flippant, but he can’t keep the quaver from his voice. This shit is epic. This shit is… well, it’s out of his league, whatever it is.
But seated on the diplodocus, miles (or yards, or feet, or maybe Dean isn’t sure, he just knows it’s far) above him, Castiel lights up. He runs his hand through his hair and his smile widens.
“You think I’m hot?”