my name is claire. there’s not much to know about me except that i’m annoying as fuck
i’m here to like/reblog art, fanfics, and posts
generally what you’ll find here are that, shitposts, and mostly clownery
i’m currently questioning my sexuality and it’s a sensitive topic for me to talk about so i’d prefer people not to assume it. for now, i just consider myself straight. my pronouns are she/her and i don’t mind if you accidentally call me some others.
i am a writer! but currently, i’ve been keeping my writing to myself because of insecurities of what other people will think jfksjskfhdk
don’t turn on notifications for me because if you do then you’ll literally be spammed with shitposts
Vagabonds by chevrolangels. 89,444 words, 15 chapters. western/outlaw au. angst and a smidge of pining and fun stuff. fuckin great, super enjoyed it. great art with it too :D
Parachutes by chaoticdean. 81,674 words, 9 chapters. absolutely loved it. big angst. doctor!Cas and mechanic!Dean au. big TW for panic attacks and trauma/abuse, pay attention to tags/tw for every chapter. definitely nsfw in a few chapters. comes with a playlist too!!
Waveform Frequency by LeverDrift. 20,479 words. we love Angst™️ with a happy ending. gets smuttier toward the end. TW but more details in fic tags and notes.
2,000+ words-
The One Thing You Can't Lose by MajorEnglishEsquire, expanding on this post. 4,955 words. Dean getting used to being touchy-feely. it's adorable.
under 2,000 words-
How To See Warm. 1,443 words. angels don't see in the whole range of colors, just blue, purple, and greys. Castiel gets to see warm colors for the first time. it's cute and destiel-y
There’s this deancas fic that DESTROYED ME AND I NEED TO READ IT AGAIN. it’s a deancas fic with sam in it and they go into this cave to find a family kidnapped by werewolves, it’s not werewolves, it’s fallen angels made up of bones and rage. sam accidentally slices deans neck and cas finds dean and has to put dean out of his misery. cas then breaks sams knees to save him time, and then cas tries to escape but ends up dying as well. HELP ME I NEED THIS SO BAD
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During every single hunt, whether it was tulpas in Topeka, or shapeshifters in Sacramento, Dean had always tried to team up with Castiel.
Why?
Well, it was a long and complicated story. But to sum it down, Dean probably had the biggest crush on the damn angel and his feelings haven’t gone away.
Pray the gay away? Nah man. It was pray to the gay. Be bi or die.
In all honesty, Dean was very open about his bisexuality. After it sort of slipped out to Sam and his younger brother had no reaction (and it may or may not have been that his deadbeat dad was gone) and so he didn’t care who knew.
He could stand on a stage, wearing a bi flag on his back, having his dick out for any men or women who wanted a taste, and he wouldn’t give a flipping fuck.
However, he hasn’t had sex in two years. Why? Oh yeah, cause of the crush. Heads over heals crush that no man or woman could take away. He had tried to pretend the kisses and love were the angel, but none if it worked. It wasn’t what he imagined of, dreamed of.
If a djinn got his hands on him again, then who the fuck knows if Dean would stay or not. At least the djinn would give Dean what he wanted.
Often times he got angry at Castiel for not doing anything. But he couldn’t blame him.
Dean would never tell anybody this, but there was often times he cried himself to sleep because of how unfair life was in general. How unfair it was that Dean could never just get what he wanted, what he always craved.
At that moment, he was ticked. Just sitting there as Sam and Castiel rambled on about the hunt that he wasn’t paying attention to. However, that ass sitting on that chair though.
Jesus Christ.
“What about you, Dean?” Sam asked, his arms folded, leaning against the wall.
“Yeah. I mean, this rugaru seems pretty badass.”
“We’re hunting an Ōkami, Dean.” Sam pealed his attention away from Jack, who was bouncing on the bed sitting down.
“That’s what I said.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something but Dean got up from the motel’s table and slammed the chair against the edge of it.
Castiel looked up at him fearfully, as he knew Dean’s angry face. “D—“
“I need a drink. I’ll be back.” Dean snapped and left the motel, almost slamming the door.
God he was so fucking angry. Sam that day had been a little bitch boy and Jack was annoying and Castiel was oblivious to Dean’s obvious flirting and nothing was going his way.
Baby’s engine has sputtered and barely came to life, so he had to fix that before they went back to Kansas. So they were probably all stuck in deadbeat Wyoming for a few extra days.
He had stepped in a puddle and ruined his favorite pair of socks. They had good grip and were fairly new, but the muddy water from the puddle made them unwearable for the time being.
The stupid hunt wasn’t going anywhere. They were lost on just one hint on where the octopus or oak tree, or whatever the fuck it was called was.
He just needed to beat the shut out of something. Or someone. Anything.
He walked a little while away from the motel and found a junkyard that he noticed they had passed by when he was driving yesterday. There were tens or hundreds of old cars that nobody was using anymore. Perfect.
He found a bent crowbar and just as he was about to smash an old, rusted ‘69 Camarillo, a vibration and ringing sound went off in his pocket.
Fuck you, Sam.
“Hello?” Dean sighed, showing irritation in his voice more than he should’ve.
“Hey, so Cas and Jack are going downtown and I’m doing more research.”
“Wait— why did Jack and Cas go?
“I dunno. You weren’t there, so...”
“Yeah but— you know... my rule.”
The rule was a little complicated. Dean paired up with Castiel because ‘one angel and one human are better than two humans and two angels because the angel can protect the human on one team and the same for the second team.’
Which was bullshit. Dean just wanted to see his ass in tight pants and hear his whiskey and leather-like voice interrogate people.
Okay, it’s probably annoying that Dean keeps thinking about his ass. But it was a pretty nice ass. Can’t blame him.
“Alright. Well, sorry.”
“I always go with Cas.”
“I know. I guess I just thought of switching it up this hunt.”
“But you’re ugly as hell.”
“And Cas isn’t?”
Dean could hear his stupid shit-eating grin behind the fucking phone.
Instead of answering to his dumbass comment, Dean had hung up.
In all honesty, the day just wasn’t going his way.
Walking back to the motel, seeing his Baby from a distance, he quickened his pace to grab some things from the trunk.
But as he was walking, a piece of thread on his plaid jacket caught in a nail inside of a telephone pole. Not realizing it to start with, he continued walking, his hands in his pockets, squinting at the sun like he wanted to explode it.
He turned a corner and his plaid jacket had ripped with a loud sound. Beneath his right armpit, there was a giant hole revealing his undershirt.
Great.
He opened the motel door and quickly shut it as fast, then bee-lined straight to his suitcase and shrugged off his plaid shirt.
“Dean, you alright.”
“Hell no!” he barked, probably an octave higher than he normally spoke.
Sam, sitting down with his books and laptop, stood up to walk over to Dean. He didn’t treat him like some rabid animal, but normally.
“You know you can talk about it. I know about your feelings your C—“
“DON’T... finish that.”
“Dean. Please,” he continued. “It’s really hard to love somebody when you don’t think they love you back. But Cas really does. I know he does.”
“How do you know Sam!? Come on. It’s not like you’re an astrologist with some fuckin’ tarot cards or something.” Dean pathetically threw his hands up in the air, causing a loud smacking sound when he put them back down.
“Because he told me he does.”
Hold on.
What?
“You’re kidding.” Dean laughed.
“Dean, I’ve been in between this feud with you and Cas for about twelve years now. Do you really think Cas hasn’t told me? He told me post-purgatory. That’s when you don’t me too.” Sam paused, taking in a breath. “He said he’s so madly in love with you that it hurts, Dean. Hurts.”
It was like all of the sudden the world stopped. Dean’s heart rattled in his ribs and it felt as if vines were growing all around, permeating his lungs in such a way that he couldn’t breathe.
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-
“Make sure you shower daily, alright? Real important for humans. Eat, dude. Eat when ya get hungry. Clothes are in the closet ‘n drawer, Netflix password is written on a sticky note on the laptop. Porn is free, use it all ya want. Just— be safe, man. Please.”
Castiel nodded intently, listening to Dean’s words like it was holy text. He and Sam shut the door and that was that.
Dean opened it again. “Call if you need me!” Then he shut it again.
The hunter sighed, worry already filling him up. He made sure Cas had everything before he left for this stupid hunt in Nebraska. He was tempted to call Cas even though it had been 2.55 seconds since he just looked at those pretty blues from above, but Sam already walking had changed his mind.
“You love him, don’t you?” Sam told him, wind blowing in his face and his hands stuffed in his pockets, squinting his eyes at Dean.
“Pfft. No way, man.”
“Dean.”
The mentioned stared off into the distance, avoiding eye contact then huffing. “Yeah.” he replied like he was ashamed. “Since... since ‘08.”
“You’ve loved him for twelve years like that and you’ve never said anything?”
Pathetically, Dean cried out. “What am I supposed to do?! He’s a friggin’ angel,” He kicked a rock and sighed again, then muttered. “Fell in love with a damn angel.”
Sam shook his head. “You gotta tell him, Dean. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Tears shining in his eyes, Dean finally made eye contact. “He could leave, you idiot! I’d tell him and he’d just dip or somethin’. He doesn’t like men. He doesn’t like me,” A tear slipped down his face. “What dumbass would?”
It was like Sam had a third eye. How on earth did he know? Was it that obvious? Did him leaning into Castiel’s touch too much quirk an eyebrow? Could he read minds? Damn, maybe it was too obvious.
Ever since meeting the damn sexiest angel alive, Dean could say he was goody goody for him. Maybe the staring and sweet talk was too un-platonic for Sam.
It definitely was too obvious.
“Dean, listen to yourself.”
“I am!”
“No, you’re not. What’s the point in loving somebody if you don’t ever tell them you love ‘em?”
Dean thought for a moment. “I...” He had no answer.
“Just— think about it, okay? You can tell Cas when you’re ready, but you can’t hide it forever.”
He nodded, listening to his words.
Later that night, Dean fiddled with the buttons on the side of his phone, twirling it in his fingers and tapping his feet on the ground. Two clicks and Castiel would be on the other line. Three words and it could either decide Dean’s destiny or doom.
Two clicks.
Three words.
“Cas—“
Dean licked his lips.
“Cas, I love you—“
It was done. It was finished. Dean had told Castiel the truth. The truth that he had bottled up for twelve damn years. Way too long for any man or woman to hold in a secret for.
“I love you too, Dean.”
And way too long for any man to not kiss an angel.
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-
“It was all fun and games until somebody got hurt.”
That was a motto that Dean has heard a lot growing up, playing with Sam. For instance, his dad telling him that and tsk’ing when he had showed him his sprained arm from jumping off the roof, pretending to be a superhero with sheets as a cape. Or on TV, Dean had heard that a lot, from various parents scolding their children.
However, he never thought, as a grown ass man, he would have to repeat that to another grown ass man because he had broken his leg playing Just Dance.
“What does that mean?” Castiel asked, elevating his leg on three stacked pillows, a glass of chocolate milk with a bendy straw on the bedside stand, half drunken.
“It means that ya had fun singing and dancing with Charlie but it’s not fun sitting here bedridden, is it?” Dean explained.
Nodding his head no, Castiel winced in pain. “Who knew Carly Rey Jepsen would hurt somebody like she hurt me...”
That caused a full-on, belly roaring laugh from Dean. He leaned down and moved Castiel’s sweaty hair out of his face, and kissed his forehead. Normal people would think that it was gross, but that word didn’t even fathom in his vocabulary for Castiel. Plus, Dean was far from normal and he was far over that.
The ex-angel apologized for the inconveniences he had caused prior.
“No need to be sorry, babe.” Dean told him.
“But we won’t be able to have intercourse.”
“I still got my mouth and hands, don’t I?” Dean smiled. That had caused a blush from Castiel. “Plus, you’re not just sex, Cas. You know that.”
And now, Castiel had used that phrase wherever they went. He would use it when someone dropped their pen, causing a confused look from them. He’d use it when a waitress spilled her coffee, making Dean snicker under his breath.
Suptober 2020, Day 18: Dark & Stormy Night (destiel, ~700 words, light hurt/comfort)
Out of all the habits Castiel picked up when he became human, one of the strangest is sitting outside when it rains.
The first time they’re at a motel, and it’s the kind of soft rain that drums a steady heartbeat onto the rooftops and lulls worried minds to sleep.
“You think he’s okay?” Sam asks, staring out the window at Castiel, who is sitting on the curb under the cover of the walkway.
Dean shrugs. “He was a weird angel, now he’s a weird dude,” he replies, but he stays by the window just in case. Cas comes back in an hour later, after Sam has gone to bed, and he’s shivering but Dean hasn’t seen him this peaceful in a long time. He greets the former angel with a blanket and guides him to bed, cocooning him with warm arms and the comforter. He smells vaguely like petrichor and ozone, the way he used to when he still walked among the stars. Dean buries his nose in dark hair and thinks he understands.
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-
Sitting in a bar, Dean sat with Sam on his right while Cas was on his across the building, sitting in a booth. All went well except for...
The sexual tension between this lady and Castiel was high and Dean nearly smashed down his shot glass on the floor.
Sam, being the stupid, younger and annoying brother he was, had noticed the change in demeanor when a woman had approached Castiel and they hit it off immediately. Her arm was snaked around his waist and they were chatting very closely.
“Dean, you need another?” Sam inquired.
“Very. Give it.” Dean’s eyes never glued away from the woman and Castiel, watching them like a hawk.
Downing the shot glass and slamming it down on the counter made Sam quirk his eyebrow up. He tapped his foot against the metal bars of the stool, debating whether or not he should downright murder the woman.
Shit would hit the fan if he got his hands on her.
A third shot, however, drowned out the numbing feeling that Dean got when he remembered he could never be with the angel. Judging by what Castiel was doing to this woman, and what she was doing with him, it was true.
Sam tried to stop Dean from leaving but he did anyway. The woman had whispered something in Castiel’s ear and Dean just had enough of it. The sound of the doors slamming were covered by the noise of the bar, so Castiel had not noticed.
The rain poured on Dean’s head but he couldn’t give a damn. Stupid love, stupid women, stupid bars.
Stupid angels.
Stupid angels and their sex-messy hair. Stupid angels with their soft hands and sweet, gummy smiles.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Dean.”
The rain was so loud that Dean had barely noticed the sound of Castiel swooping in and his wings fluttering.
“Sorry, Cas. ‘M walking home.” Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and continued walking, ignoring the man who was chasing after him hopelessly.
“Dean, I’m—“
Dean stopped in his trail to look at Castiel, rain water soaking his hair, causing some curls to already bare up.
“You’re what, Cas? Hopelessly in love?”
“Yes!”
Dean huffed and walked again, but Castiel grabbed his shoulder and slammed his lips on Dean’s.
The taste of his lips was addictive, and the angel’s hands intertwined in his hair, seeping the water out of it, their chests touching with eagerness, slotting their lips like the last piece of a puzzle.
Dean pulled apart, Castiel’s lip shining with mixed saliva. They both were panting in the rain, cars flying by and the wind blowing piercingly in their faces.
“You—“ Dean stammered, lost for words.
“Yes, Dean. With you.” Castiel completed his sentence.
“But the lady—“
“I told her and she was giving me advice...” Castiel hung his head.
“But—“
“She started flirting with me and I told her I was in love so she stopped.”
Dean didn’t have any words except for tens and hundreds of more kisses, exploring Castiel’s body.
please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!
also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!
-
Pie was a guilty pleasure. While not necessarily a guilty one, it was still a mighty pleasure to Dean.
Almost as if tradition, Dean’s husband, Castiel, made him a different kind of pie every Saturday. Both of them would be off their jobs, as the weekends were a blessing in disguise, and Castiel would make pie for dessert after dinner.
Now, Dean never necessarily asked Castiel to make these pies, but he did anyway with a smile on his face and lips ready to kiss. It was something that the man had always wanted to do, warmth in his heart, ever since he realized his sexuality.
Meeting Castiel over four years ago was to start with agonizing, as the love for him was permitted. However, grabbing up the strength to talk to him was the best decision he had ever made.
This week was pumpkin pie, as the October weather forecast was chilly and Halloween was creeping up.
Dean was laying down on the couch, his hot dog pants and ‘Send Noods’ socks kept him warm. When he had first bought them, Castiel had belly chuckled and spooned him in the night. The oven radiated heat and Dean’s hands were cold so he popped his knuckles, causing a hiss of pain from Castiel.
“Stop doing that, silly!” Castiel scolded. “You’re gonna get arthritis!”
“At least it ain’t a cancer scare. My fingers are cold.” he responded, still cracking his knuckles.
“Dean.” Castiel said sternly.
“What?”
“Don’t.”
Dean looked down. “Yeah I know... sorry.”
“It’s okay, beloved.”
Dean repeated the nickname on his lips, silently. Beloved. He has always loved that nickname. The first time Castiel had called him that was in bed and it was the best sound he had ever heard.
The cancer scare was true. Dean had started feeling chest pains, and almost couldn’t breathe when he laid down flat. They went to the doctor and they told him that it could be a heart tumor. Turns out, it was only heart burn and they gave him medicine for it, but the drop in both of their stomachs was still scarred in their minds for all of eternity.
“About five minutes, alright?” Cas told him, tilting his head and wiping his hands on the handkerchief.
Dean, love-sickened and smiling like Castiel hung the stars, reached out and motioned Castiel to come to him. Unable to resist the urge, Castiel succumbed to Dean’s puppy eyes and laid in his arms sprawled across the couch.
Five minutes had rolled around of them cuddling and Dean made grabbing motions out to Castiel as he stood up to get the pie out of the oven.
“Dean...” Castiel said sternly. “Would you rather have burnt pumpkin pie for a few minutes of cuddling, or a delicious pumpkin pie and better and more cuddling afterwards?”
Dean huffed. “Guess you’re right.” he replied with a smile hidden in his jaw.
After the pie had cooled down, Castiel served it to him at the kitchen’s bar. Putting his elbow on the counter and cupping his own jaw with his hand, Castiel stared at the man like he was the finest piece of art he had ever seen.
Dean took a bite and practically melted into the gooey taste of pumpkin. He offered it to Castiel, like he almost always did, but he simply shook his head no.
“Cas, why don’t you ever eat your own pie?”
“Dean...” Castiel blushed.
“What is it?”
“I don’t like pie.” He shrugged.
Dean practically gasped.
“Cas. Of course you like pie!” Dean said accusatory, laughing. “You make me some every week!”
“I don’t, Dean. Have you ever seen me eat one?”
Dean pondered for a minute, and his conclusion was the same as anyone else’s would be. “No.”
“Then there’s your answer. I don’t like pie, but I still make it for you.”
“Hold on. Rewind. You’re meaning to tell me, I’ve known you for four years, we’ve been married for two... and you’re telling me that you don’t like pie but you still make it for me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”
A small smile appeared on Castiel’s face. “You told me that you would never marry someone who didn’t like pie.”
Dean’s jaw slacked. “You... let me say this again— you’re telling me, you don’t like pie.”
“Yes.”
“And... you never told me because I said I’d never marry someone who didn’t like it.”
“Yes.”
“Because you thought I wouldn’t marry you.”
“...Yes.”
A long pause of contemplation.
“Cas, you’re a fuckin’ dork.”
“I know that.”
Dean motioned, once again, for Castiel to come to him. He did and Dean enclosed him in his arms, the earthy and cinnamon-like smell of Castiel filling his senses. He was everything he ever dreamed and more.
It was now tradition, that every week, Dean had bought Castiel ice cream (hisfavorite dessert) to go along with his pie separately. Castiel would enjoy his ice cream and Dean would enjoy the pie, snuggling on the couch together enjoying the fall weather.
please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!
also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!
(based on a true story)
Castiel stared at Dean’s laptop, completely in awe, smiling pridefully at himself. The electronic screen of the computer illuminated on his face, making his eyes grow tired because of the past research he’s been doing in the middle of the night.
Dean would be so happy!
Now all he had to do was wait for him to come back to the bunker.
Trying to figure out how to not be bored — something that has happened to him since he turned human; a very monotonous thing — Castiel looked around the library, searching for some type of book to read.
He found one and sat down in his original seat. He hoped ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ would be a good choice. If not, then maybe he could give it to Dean and hopefully he would like it.
-
Turns out, it was not. Castiel had read it in approximately ten minutes and it was the most weirdest piece of literature the ex-angel thinks he’s ever read.
The imagery of burning it in his head, he stood up to go and do so. However, once he stood up, his Led Zeppelin (curtesy of Dean) t-shirt clung to him with sweat. Although it was late January, it was still hot as fuck in Lebanon.
“Cas!” Dean called out. “I’m back! Are you here?”
Castiel could hear the smile in his voice. Placing down the book, Castiel closed his eyes to zap over to Dean on the indoor balcony.
Oh yeah. No powers.
He awkwardly waited for Dean to walk down the steps, and then he ran to the bottom as Dean jumped in his arms.
“Hey, baby...” he muttered into Castiel’s neck. “Missed me that much?”
Castiel nodded his head up and down. Thumbing Dean’s hipbones, Castiel tried to pick him up but he couldn’t.
Too weak.
Dean noticed that Castiel acutely tried to, but he wasn’t successful, and he noticed the flicker of guilt in his boyfriends eyes.
“Cas...”
“I... I have a surprise for you!” He changed the subject quickly, smiling.
“You do?” Dean replied mischievously, smirking. “What is it, angel?”
Castiel hated when he was called angel. It just wasn’t true. He has been an angel, a seraph, for his whole life and just recently, it was all stripped away from him.
However, Dean, the love of his whole life, has helped him more than anybody or anything has to him. He loved him with his whole being and would go to the ends of the universe for him. He was more beautiful than all the galaxies and supernovas and sunsets and sunrises that Castiel has ever seen.
Although Dean had another thing in mind.
“Come to the table...” Castiel smiled, holding Dean’s hand. Hand holding was Castiel’s comfort when he was stressed out, especially when he hasn’t seen Dean in over twenty-four hours.
Dean saw the book and his eyes widened.
“Cas—“
“Yes?”
“Are you— did—“ His face was probably the shade of a tomato, he was that embarrassed,
“Yes I did!” Castiel smiled at the computer, the website still on.
“I’m not—“ Dean muttered, his hand shaking.
“Huh? You don’t like it?”
Dean hung his head and rubbed a hand through his hair tired, “Angel, ‘m not into that stuff.”
“You’re not into rock and roll? I thought that was something you really liked...”
A switch flicked in Dean’s mind and he looked at the screen of the computer. Two picture of tickets were on the screen and the initials said “CCR” at the top.
For January 24th.
His birthday. Tomorrow.
“Cas— you... you’re fuckin’ with me!” The hunter’s eyes widened to the size of the sun. No way in hell did he get CCR tickets! “You got us tickets to see fuckin’ Creedance Clearwater Revival!?”
He paused. “Yes! Yes I did, Dean!” His eyes wrinkled and Dean’s favorite gummy smile appeared on his face.
Dean wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed Castiel with such force that it toppled him backward onto the table. Humming satisfactorily in his throat, Castiel pushed the book off the table as Dean straddled his lap.
Creedance Clearwater Revival was one of Dean’s favorite bands, and Cas knew that. Fortunate Son was an absolute classic and Dean could not wait to see them in a concert,
The same thing went for Dean to Castiel. He was his everything and would go his limits, life or death, to be with his angel.
The next morning was Dean’s birthday and Castiel had woken up with grogginess. He hardly got any sleep (for many reasons) but he was determined to make Dean breakfast.
Dean, last night, had told Castiel that to start with he thought the surprise was fucking ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ and Castiel heartily laughed to that. No way in hell. However, placing a chaste kiss on his favorite pair of lips, Castiel told him otherwise.
Breakfast was burnt but Dean still ate it with a smile on his face and butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
-
Later, was the concert and Dean was telling Castiel all the facts he knew about CCR.
“CCR is an absolute fuckin’ classic, baby. You’re gonna love it. John Fogerty’s been doin’ rock ‘n roll since he was eight years old!”
Dean rambled on about the band with one hand on the wheel and the other hand in Castiel’s. The concert was about an hour away and Dean had downloaded the virtual tickets on his phone (Sam had to show him how to) so they couldn’t get lost like paper tickets could.
Fortunate Son played on one of Dean’s mixtapes and he began jamming out as he prompted Castiel to dance along too.
Singing the lyrics while Castiel guessed them, they laughed until tears came into their eyes.
Not only were they the love of each other’s lives, they were also each other’s best friends. Nothing else mattered but each other.
Dean, wearing a CCR shirt that he had quickly bought at the store since he didn’t have one, he hopped out of the car and opened Castiel’s door just so he could swoop down and steal a kiss. They loved to call those types bandit kisses.
“Hey! Now I need one.” Castiel complained and stepped out. Dean almost drooled.
He was wearing black jeans that may or may not have fitted too tight (on purpose, thanks Dean) and an over-large AC/DC shirt with a pair of sunglasses. People flooded in the outside mosh pit, and Dean warned him about the dangers of moshing, and how to avoid being punched in the face. Noticing the angel’s nervous smile, Dean smiled bigger.
Listening intently to his boyfriend, Castiel nervously nodded. However, Dean knew his angel’s worried face and placed a heart-melting kiss on his lips. Smiling together, they went into the crowd.
Dean looked around and saw that in the middle of the stage, the logo of Cross Canadian Ragweed was placed on top of it.
Oh.
“Cas...”
He peered around and saw multiple people dressed up for a country rock band, not rock and roll. Upon further inspection, Dean and Castiel stuck out like sore thumbs.
Suddenly, the lights on the concert stage turned on and people cheered and clapped, and even Castiel did.
“Baby, no—“ Dean chuckled, grabbing a tiny fistful of the hem of Castiel’s shirt, tugging at it to get his attention.
Blue simmering in Castiel’s eyes like diamonds, he turned around and had the biggest smile on his face. “Aren’t you excited?!”
“Babe, this is Cross Canadian Ragweed! Not CCR!” He had to scream over the crowd who started to rile up.
“You mean I didn’t get you the right ones?!” Castiel painfully yelled back. He looked as if somebody had kicked his little puppy.
“No! But it’s okay!” Dean pulled his waist toward him, their noses touching and their lips ghosting against each other.
“You’re so beautiful, angel.”
“I’m not an angel, Dean.”
“But you’re still mine. Clipped wings or not...”
Their lips met.
Although Castiel wasn’t perfect, the night was and so was his birthday.
Cross Canadian Ragweed pretty much sucked ass, but holding Castiel’s hands and kissing him whenever possible was his favorite thing to do.
However, he was perfect in Dean’s eyes no matter what he did. Or didn’t do.
