lazy valentine’s day.
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@frogsgivemehope
lazy valentine’s day.
Request: “Can you sketch some valentines day destiel fluff? Pretty please? <3” And here we are. My first request and I do something very stupid and banal, shame on me. I’m very sorry, but I hope you like it anyway ^___^
merry unattached drifter christmas, ya filthy animal!
bonus:
for @deancas-sweetheart‘s valentine’s challenge!
Dean, Sam and Cas wishing you the best for the New Year!
Happy New Year, guys! May 2017 suck less. Love you all. :)
At Jo’s annual New Year’s Eve party, a game of spin the bottle goes a little awry when Dean misinterprets Sam and Cas as a couple. 2k
[ao3 link]
Written for the 2016/2017 Destiel Secret Santa Exchange!
It’s fifteen minutes to midnight and Dean’s pretty sure he’s right on the edge of being drunk. Everything’s going a little hazy around the edges, and a warmth that wasn’t there earlier is filling up his body and wrapping him in an embrace that isn’t too bad, if he says so himself. Dancers are gyrating all around him in a sway of movement, and the music is blasting so loud that Dean can’t hear himself think. Overall, everything’s perfect.
“Hey, there’s Dean!”
Well, almost perfect.
“Hiya, Sammy,” Dean groans, plastering on a smile he doesn’t feel like giving. He turns around and is met with the image of his brother practically tumbling forward, beer bottle centimeters away from the tips of his fingers. He looks blissed out beyond belief with his half closed eyes and breath reeking of whiskey, but that’s not what has Dean acting so sour.
“Whoa, watch it!” Cas calls as he swoops to the rescue. He dips down and catches Sam just in time before he falls flat on his ass, and the drunken giggles that erupt from Sam’s mouth would be freakin’ adorable if they weren’t directed at Cas.
Dean knows he’s being petty. Cas is a great guy, one of Dean’s best friends actually, and he shouldn’t act like some bitter wine mom because Sam snatched Cas up as his boyfriend before Dean could get his head out of his ass. And yet, Dean can’t help but feel the pangs of jealousy when he watches Cas and Sam interact. They’re always so touchy, hands brushing absentmindedly like they aren’t even thinking about it, whispering jokes in each other’s ears before breaking out into fits of laughter. They’re so domestic it’s disgusting.
“Thanks, Cas,” Sam mumbles under his breath. He tries to take another swig of beer, but Cas takes the bottle away before he gets the chance.
“I think that’s enough for now,” Cas murmurs in low tones, setting the bottle down on the nearest table. “I’m strong, but not strong enough to drag your weight three blocks back to campus.”
“But Caaaaas,” Sam whines with puppy dog eyes out in full force. “It’s not even midnight yet!”
“All the more reason to quit while you’re ahead. Don’t want to miss out on a New Year’s kiss, right?”
Sam giggles and tosses his head back. “Right,” he responds. “Wanna be awake for that.” He puckers his lips and brings them close to Cas’s cheek, who bats the faux kiss off with his hand before they both break down in laughter.
“Ugh, screw me,” Dean groans into his beer.
“Tried it; wasn’t a fan.”
Dean grins at the new voice behind him and spins around. Jo, the host of this New Year’s Eve party, is leaning up against a couch with a bottle of champagne in her hand and her girlfriend Anna clinging to her side, both covered in lipstick stains and reeking of smoke.
“I’m crushed, Harvelle,” Dean says in mock offense, bringing his hand up to his chest. “Are you saying that our drunken night in the Impala meant nothing?”
Jo laughs, high pitched and tinny. “Not entirely. It was the night I figured out that dick isn’t exactly my thing, after all,” she replies with turned up lips, nudging Anna next to her. “And that redheaded girls are.”
“Aw, you’re making me blush!” Anna squeals back in delight and knocks her hip into Jo’s.
“You’re all disgusting,” Dean mutters under his breath as he turns away, but doesn’t get far before Jo’s fingers wrap around the hem of his jacket and pulls him back.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she chastises with a wagging finger. “It’s game time and you’re our first participant.”
Dean quirks an eyebrow up at Jo but doesn’t get to ask what the hell she’s talking about before the entire room is called into order with Anna’s loud whistle.
“Okay, listen up everyone! It’s almost midnight and we haven’t played any games yet. Who’s up for a little round of spin the bottle?’”
The wolf whistles that ring out through the room echo around Dean and he finds himself being pulled forward with Jo’s clinging fingers.
“Everyone sit in a circle!” Anna commands, and the rest of the partygoers follow her instructions. Dean plops himself down next to Jo, and when he turns to his right Benny’s sitting by his side, bottle of whiskey clutched between his fingers as he chats with Jess. Bela and Ruby sit next to Anna, whispering into each other’s ears, while Lisa and Cassie file in accordingly. But what catches Dean’s attention is Cas sitting directly across from him, blue eyes glancing downward while a still drunk Sam topples to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
“The rules are these,” Jo announces with her palms raised in the air. “One person spins the bottle. Whoever the bottle lands on is their partner. Said partners will go into a closet for seven minutes- no exceptions. And whatever you two do in there? Well, that’s up to you.”
Whistles ring out once again and Dean feels his cheeks heat. Knowing Jo, she’s gonna rig the bottle in one way or another, and his mind is already racing with whom she’d pair him up with. He locks eyes with Lisa Braeden across the room, and her answering blush only makes him want to get away faster. He likes her well enough, but imagining being shoved into a closet with her for seven minutes will no doubt be awkward beyond belief. Cassie is another option, he realizes quickly, and his gut churns at the thought of being paired up with his ex-girlfriend. Either way, it’s going to be horrible, weird, uncomfortable.
“How about we begin with…Dean?”
“Jo-”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Jo exclaims while pushes the bottle in his direction. “Give it a go and see what your future beholds,” she says while waving her fingers in the air.
He grunts once but doesn’t try to fight her on it. Instead, Dean spins the bottle as fast as he can and prays to whoever’s listening that it doesn’t land on anyone unsavory.
It spins around for longer than anyone could possibly think necessary before slowing down. It flies by Ruby and Bela, Benny and Jess too. It looks like it’s gonna land on Sam, but the bottle slows to a stop right in front of Cas instead.
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ok but it’s a wonderful life au
dean winchester has had a good life. at twelve he saved his little brother sammy’s life when they were sledding on thin ice – it cost dean his hearing in one ear but he never minded. worked at the ice cream shop, flirted with the girls who came in (lisa braeden always tried to catch his eye), grew up reading national geographic magazines cover to cover.
he always wanted to travel. he wanted to build – cars, homes, families. he wanted to make people happy in concrete ways.
but then his dad died, and dean took over the family business – Winchester Building & Loan. basically the only business in bedford falls that WASN’T controlled by crowley, the greediest, slimiest capitalist in the country. dean had a responsibility to carry on his family’s work. he gave his college money to his kid brother, who went on to be a lawyer and a war hero.
dean worked day and night, tirelessly, putting everyone else’s needs above his own. he never got to travel. he never got to go to college. but he got to build homes, a whole new housing development. he got to defy crowley and defy expectations, and it was a good life.
until. until uncle bobby misplaced $100,000. and suddenly everything came crashing down.
which brings us to this. dean winchester, standing on a bridge, trying to work up the courage to jump. he’s got a life insurance policy in his pocket that puts in writing what he already knows: he’s worth more dead than alive.
and then this grumpy guardian angel, castiel, shows up.
castiel is wearing a too-big trench coat, he talks like he’s from three centuries ago, and maybe he is. he doesn’t get any of dean’s pop culture references. but he’s patient, and he talks dean down from the bridge. wipes the blood from his lips– “bar fight gone wrong,” dean says. cas has really, really blue eyes, but dean obviously doesn’t notice.
angel, second-class. hasn’t gotten his wings yet, he says.
“well, this job won’t help,” dean says. “i’m a lost cause.” he mutters something about “i wish i’d never been born,” and cas says, “okay.”
and there they are. in a bedford falls with a gaping hole in the middle of it, something missing that nobody remembers. dean winchester.
dean walks through the town, through his usual bars (he and cas get a drink together, and dean tries not to watch cas’s mouth on the edge of a shot glass). nobody remembers him, not even his best friends, victor and charlie.
winchester park, the housing development he built with his own hands, foundation up, doesn’t exist. in its place is a graveyard. in its place is sam winchester’s grave, sam winchester who died at the age of eight after falling through thin ice.
“You weren’t there to save him,” cas says, and dean shakes his head.
“no, that’s wrong. that can’t be– i– sam’s my brother. i’m meant to protect him. it’s my job.”
“sam never had a brother,” cas says. he looks at dean. he can’t understand why this human, this rough-edged, freckle-faced human, would want to kill himself. he’s flawed, but he’s good. kind. cas has spent so many millennia watching humans, and the last thirty years watching dean. humans are so special. and dean is the best of them all, in cas’s eyes.
he watched dean throw stones at an old house and make wishes on broken glass. he watched dean kiss girls, and boys. he watched dean fall in love, too many times, with too many people who never loved him back. and today, this night, he watched dean sit at a polished wood bar and pray, for the first time since he was a kid, pray for god to save him.
god isn’t here, but castiel is. dean would do anything for the people he loves; castiel is just trying to do the same.
in the end dean gets it, gets why he can’t kill himself. he sees the light in the world, in bedford falls. he sees that it was all worthwhile. and so he runs back to the bridge and this time, instead of looking at the water he looks at the sky, and he shouts at god, at the stars, “i want to live again!”
it starts snowing. his lip bleeds. he laughs until he cries. victor finds him on the bridge like that, takes him home, and–
there’s everyone in bedford falls, crowded into his old, broken-down home (he was so busy fixing other people’s homes he never had time for his own), wallets overflowing with money for him. money to help him, to save him. someone counts it all up to be $103,214.06
his mother cries. she starts singing auld lang syne and everyone joins in, and the room swells up with all this joy, all this christmas cheer, and dean can’t stop smiling.
but something’s missing. cas is missing. dean a bell rings, and dean thinks hey, maybe that’s cas finally getting his wings.
but it’s the bell over his door. because cas is standing there, windblown, snow on the shoulders of his trench coat. he’s out of breath and dean shoves through the crowd to get to him.
“your wings?” dean says.
“didn’t need them.”
“but you–”
“i fell.”
“you–”
“i don’t need immortality. i don’t want my wings. i just want you. i want a human life, with you.”
people are singing christmas carols, in the street and in dean’s home. his pulse is rushing, face flushing. he says, “cas. i.”
“i want to be here, with you, in this wonderful life.”
dean pulls him in by the lapels and kisses him. he won’t let go again.
Gift wrapping is harder than it looks, okay?
This is Not a Christmas Fic
Christmas fluff written for the lovely @kayanem for the Down to Agincourt book club Secret Santa exchange.
(ao3)
It starts with a mix-up in the dairy aisle.
Cas is unloading the groceries from the cart onto the conveyor belt when he notices it. He double checks then holds up the quart. “This is eggnog, not the coffee creamer you wanted.”
Dean leans in for a closer look. “Huh. Guess so. They look the same.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the dairy department. “I’ll go get some.”
Cas holds out the eggnog for him to return.
“Nah, keep it.”
Cas squints at it. With Cas in graduate school, Dean’s bringing home the only income. That means there’s not a lot of wiggle room in the grocery budget, and eggnog isn’t exactly cheap. Plus, it’s an odd choice for Dean who had declared himself a “Grinch” this season, a role he seems committed to if the way he’s been bitching about the non-stop Christmas music for weeks is any indication. In the off-chance Cas forgot, he saw Dean thoroughly roll his eyes at the holiday scene painted on the store window when they walked in.
Dean’s disgust with all things Christmas this year is due to the fact that Sam is unable to come home from Stanford for the holiday. At Dean’s insistence, they’ve decided to put off celebrating until all three of them can be together.
Nevertheless, back in their apartment, Dean puts the two cartons in the fridge, side by side.
The next morning, when Cas staggers to the kitchen still in pajamas, Dean pours them both mugs of coffee. He presses one into Cas’s hands and kisses the top of his head. “Morning, sunshine.”
Cas makes a noise somewhere between a hum and grunt as he lifts the mug to his mouth. The first swallow is hot and good and…surprisingly sweet. He takes another sip and looks questioningly at Dean. “What’s in here?”
“What do you mean?” Dean peers into his own mug in confusion before tasting his. “Oh, I mixed them up again. I put the eggnog in instead of the cream.” He reaches for Cas’s cup. “I can fix it.”
Cas shakes his head, reluctant to relinquish the coffee. “No, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Dean takes another drink of his. “Yeah, it’s actually not bad this way.”
*
When Cas texts Dean asking him to stop at the store and get triple A batteries for his calculator, Dean comes home with a bigger bag than necessary. “I picked up some of those dumb gingersnaps you like. They had them displayed by the register,” he adds in case Cas got the false idea that he went out of his way to find them.
“Thank you, Dean.” Cas reaches for the bag. He pulls out the batteries and then the box of cookies. “Um.”
Dean looks up to see the problem.
“These aren’t cookies. This is a gingerbread house kit.”
If Cas isn’t mistaken, Dean doesn’t look completely surprised. “Huh. Guess that’s why it was on special display.”
Cas turns the empty brown bag over, but no receipt falls out.
Dean runs a hand through his hair. “I only got two things so I didn’t keep it.” He picks up the box and looks at the instructions on the back. “This doesn’t look too difficult to put together. Maybe we can work on it tonight.”
After literally using the phrase ‘Christmas is dead to me’ earlier this month, Dean Winchester is now voluntarily offering to put together a gingerbread house. Cas should say something here, he’s just not sure what. “Ok?” he ventures.
“I mean, since we already have it. No use letting it go to waste.”
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Castiel’s palms are sweating so profusely, he’s ninety-five percent sure he’s going to sweat through his mittens and the wrapped gifts they’re clutching. He watches with wide eyes and a racing heart as Dean rings the doorbell and walks inside, tugging him along by his coat sleeve.
“What if they hate me?”
“Won’t happen.”
“Mom? Dad? We’re home!”
“Dean—”
“Cas.”
“Unca Dean!”
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My secret santa drawing for Armellin whose art is absolutely jaw dropping, I hope you enjoy this and happy holidays to you and your loved ones. ;u;
FLUFFFF
- Merry Christmas, bro. - Yeah…yeah. Merry Christmas!
I love you until the end of the world
i looked up ‘worst christmas sweaters of all time’ and was not disappointed
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!! 👻