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ilostmyshoe-79-deactivated20181

Dean knows Sam is running into the house, but he can’t follow.

He can’t take his eyes off of Cas.

He falls down next to his angel, body in shock to the point that he doesn’t feel the ground biting into him as he hits his knees.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Cas will open his eyes any second now.

Only he doesn’t.

Dean knows he and Sam can’t stay here. Survival instinct kicks in like it always does, and he knows he has to run.

But before he moves, he runs a thumb down Cas’ still cheek, then peels his trenchcoat away from his body.

Dean kept it before, the first time he thought Cas was dead. He kept it because he knew Cas would want it when he found his way back.

Even in death, Cas will always find his way back.

So once again, Dean will keep his trenchcoat. Keep this tiny little part of Cas to return to him when he comes back.

Cas always finds his way back.

ialwayscomewhenyoucall

12x23 Coda

Dean stares at the wisp of darkness in his fingers. So soft, he thinks. So fragile.

“What is that?”

Sam’s soft voice pierces Dean’s thoughts. “I–it’s–it was–Cas gave it to me.” Dean hesitates, then opens his hand to show Sam.

Dean doesn’t look up at Sam’s inhalation. “After that day in the barn, we…talked. I asked about his wings…and he showed me. Even worn and frayed, his wings were so…”

Dean drifts for a time. “I wish you could have seen him that first time, Sammy. He was a giant. All sparks and lightning. And I…” Dean laughs, a half-mad sort of laugh. “I stabbed him in the chest. His eyes were so blue, like fallen stars. I stabbed him…”

Neither brother can take his eyes from the small black feather lying across Dean’s palm. So insubstantial; even among its fellows, how could it have held such greatness aloft?

“I asked, and he showed me. I couldn’t help myself, I stroked his feathers like he was a fucking bird or something. He was so still, and then he…he smiled. I’ve never seen him smile like that, Sam. I don’t think anyone touches an angel’s wings. When I stopped he reached back…so many of his feathers were already gone, but he plucked this one anyway…” He gestures at the angel’s gift. He can’t see it anymore, there are too many tears. He doesn’t remember how to blink them away.

“Did you ever see his wings, Sam? Before they were bur–” He stops, choking on the word. Sam wants to remind Dean they saw the wings together once, but realizes Dean won’t hear him anyway. “They were perfect, Sammy. And when I touched them I could hear them singing. Singing. Angels don’t sing, but their wings do. And the music…”

Dean closes his eyes. “Until yesterday, this feather sang to me, Sam. But it’s quiet now. Everything is quiet.”

He looks at the pattern burned into the ground.

“Everything is quiet.”

peanutbutterjelly-pie

Right after their first kiss Dean decides that he wants to keep this new (and absolutely awesome) thing with Castiel to themselves for a little while to revel in this overwhelming cascade of powerful feelings without having to deal with noisy brothers and their smug smirks.

And Dean’s plan works well.

For about ten minutes.

Because the next time Castiel so much as smiles at him, all bright and gorgeous, Dean finds himself leaning in and kissing his angel softly without any kind of hesitation.

Right there, at the breakfast table.

With Sam sitting right across from them.

Oops.

thebloggerbloggerfun

“I think that if I ever met a mermaid, I’d want to talk with them about what it feels like to fly. I’m sure their swimming is a similar comparison.”

“Cas, you know mermaids don’t exist, right?” Dean said, a smile playing on his lips and one arm resting along Castiel’s shoulders. Cas rambling on about odd subjects while they lay in bed together was not an unusual occurrence, but an endlessly amusing one for Dean.

Castiel frowned and turned his head to look at Dean.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but I kind of come into contact with a lot creatures like that.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, gesturing at himself. “I think with all the hunters that have ever lived, one of us would have noticed if mermaids exist.”

“Not too long ago you would have said that angels didn’t exist.”

“Yeah, but -”

“And you do realize that you’re arguing with someone who has witnessed the creation of all of earth’s creatures since the beginning of time?”

“Um, I mean - I guess…”

“So, you can say with certainty - knowing that humans have only explored less than five percent of your world’s ocean - that there are absolutely no mermaids living there?”

Dean paused, snapping his mouth shut as he stared back at the angel, trying to read between the lines.

“Cas… are you implying that you know mermaids exist?”

Castiel’s amused smile faded into something more nonchalant as he sat up and stretched his arms above his head.

“I’m going to get a glass of water. Do you want anything?”

“Cas,” Dean leaned over to make a desperate grab at his arm to keep him in bed and missed, as Castiel had already stood up. “C’mon, Cas. Wait - are mermaids real??”

Castiel grinned and began putting on a robe, cinching it loosely around his waist.

The silence dragged on while Castiel walked over to the bedroom door, tugging it open and turning to glance over his shoulder agonizingly slowly.

“I’ll have to ask the Loch Ness Monster.”

The door shut behind him.

ilostmyshoe-79-deactivated20181

The first few nights after Cas comes back are surprisingly uneventful. Dean pulls him into a tight hug and hangs on for a while, just to make sure he’s really here and alive and Cas, and then they just go home and put Cas in the spare room he always uses when he needs it. They settle in the bunker to help him recover, but there’s very little fanfare because, honestly, that’s just not their style.

But the fourth night, Dean breaks, right there in the kitchen over a skillet of fried chicken.

Cas walks in, hair sticking up everywhere and wearing one of Dean’s old sweatshirts, glaring at Dean with the most offended expression. “You didn’t tell me that Jack dies at the end.”

“What?”

"Jack. Rose doesn’t make room for him on whatever that was she was lying on, and he dies.”

Dean blinks, trying to understand what the hell Cas is talking about and why the hell he’s so mad. “Are we talking about Titanic?”

"Yes! You were the one who suggested I watch it!”

Suddenly, Dean’s so happy it actually hurts, tightens his chest so much he almost can’t breathe. “Cas, I was joking.”

But even as he says the words, he’s walking forward, throwing himself around Cas in a hug that would be painful for any human. Cas just stands there, still irritated, and it only makes Dean hug him harder.

“It’s good to have you home,” Dean mumbles, head buried in Cas’ neck.

Cas thaws at the words and hugs back, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “It’s good to be here, Dean.”

ilostmyshoe-79-deactivated20181

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.”

Cas’ face lights up again when Dean kisses him.

thiccxseas

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loves-quinns

Honestly I just can’t wait to send “on my way home” texts to my wife like what a concept

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pochowek

WHOM'ST

Y’AIN’T’D’VE

w-r-o-u-g-h-t

THOU’M’STN’T’VE

boredteen-deactivated20110916

kotortwo

*clicks page 2 of google search results* the deep web

thebootydiaries

me: *taking a test*

my brain: Capri Sun

me: please, focus, I’m literally begging y-

my brain: respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect th