Yay you're doing requests! Can you fuck me up with some au destiel angst? Literally any au you want. High school, bakery, hospital, I love it all! Thank youuu
Okay, so this is a few weeks late, but whatever, here’s what I posted in 2018:
For Challenges:
DeanCas Writing Challenge:
Thank You [ao3 link] (t, 8.1k)
Summary: In which the students of Benjamin Edlund High School are very invested in the relationship of their two favorite teachers.
DeanCas Big Bang 2018:
Scars (e, 147.5k)
Summary: Dean Winchester doesn’t answer to anybody about anything. Not about his ever changing hair color or tattoos, not his music, and definitely not about all the fucks he definitely doesn’t give. Of course, then he meets pretentious, skinny jean wearing, ugly sweater buying Castiel Edlund who’s hardest lot in life is probably alphabetizing inventory at his uncle’s record store, and suddenly Dean has to answer for everything.
Castiel, on the other hand, had long since accepted his fate as an anti-social, directionless, and misunderstood soul, with his cat, Meg, and a bottle of whiskey being the only company he needed. But then fate threw him Dean, the abrasive, infuriating punk who wears guyliner, and walks around like the chip on his shoulder is something to be proud of, and Castiel’s carefully constructed life was turned ass over teakettle.
After a heated exchange upon first meeting, a mutual loathing afterwards, and the glaring opposites in their lives, neither of them sees the point of mixing oil and water. Which would be all good and well, except neither of them seems to be able to stay away from the other.
For Three Sentence Prompts:
fake dating for a case
sick fic
Destiel, first kiss, awkward, Dean initiating
For Prompts:
On The Ice [ao3 link] (t, 844)
Summary: Written for the prompt: DeanCas. Hockey players… They (the teams) get into an on rink fight dean or Cas gets pretty beat up so the other goes to apologize at the hospital where they are getting stitched up… And they hit it off? Along those lines :)
Something’s Gotta Give [ao3 link] (t, 2.2k)
Summary: The one where the guy who lives above Dean is having crazy, wild sex every fudgin’ night, and Dean’s about as done with the store bought baked goods the dude keeps giving him as he is of the questionable noises that keep Dean up all night.
Dean Winchester doesn’t answer to anybody about anything. Not about his ever changing hair color or tattoos, not his music, and definitely not about all the fucks he definitely doesn’t give. Of course, then he meets pretentious, skinny jean wearing, ugly sweater buying Castiel Edlund who’s hardest lot in life is probably alphabetizing inventory at his uncle’s record store, and suddenly Dean has to answer for everything.
Castiel, on the other hand, had long since accepted his fate as an anti-social, directionless, and misunderstood soul, with his cat, Meg, and a bottle of whiskey being the only company he needed. But then fate threw him Dean, the abrasive, infuriating asshole who wears guyliner, and walks around like the chip on his shoulder is something to be proud of, and Castiel’s carefully constructed life was turned ass over teakettle.
After a heated exchange upon first meeting, a mutual loathing afterwards, and the glaring opposites in their lives, neither of them sees the point of mixing oil and water. Which would be all good and well, except neither of them seems to be able to stay away from the other.
Title: Scars
Author: lemonsorbae
Artist: Deancebra
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas (minor Sam/Ruby, Tessa/Charlie, Jo/Victor, very minor Lucifer/Lilith, Michael/Inias, Naomi/Crowley, Balthazar/Bela)
Wordcount: 165000
Warnings/Tags: sex then love, slow burn, hate at first sight, snarky!Cas, mother hen!Dean, domestic, dark romcom, fluff and angst, hurt x comfort, personal growth
Posting: 11/9/2018
Summary:
Dean Winchester doesn’t answer to anybody about anything. Not about his ever changing hair color or tattoos, not his music, and definitely not about all the fucks he definitely doesn’t give. Of course, then he meets pretentious, skinny jean wearing, ugly sweater buying Castiel Edlund who’s hardest lot in life is probably alphabetizing inventory at his uncle’s record store, and suddenly Dean has to answer for everything.
Castiel, on the other hand, had long since accepted his fate as an anti-social, directionless, and misunderstood soul, with his cat, Meg, and a bottle of whiskey being the only company he needed. But then fate threw him Dean, the abrasive, infuriating punk who wears guyliner, and walks around like the chip on his shoulder is something to be proud of, and Castiel’s carefully constructed life was turned ass over teakettle.
After a heated exchange upon first meeting, a mutual loathing afterwards, and the glaring opposites in their lives, neither of them sees the point of mixing oil and water. Which would be all good and well, except neither of them seems to be able to stay away from the other.
Dean tosses his records on the counter, not bothering to look at Castiel; not that the douche would notice seeing as his eyes seem to be allergic to Dean’s face. “Just these.”
“Fifteen dollars,” comes Castiel’s deep rumble.
Dean’s eyes snap forward. “Say what now?”
“Two records, seven-fifty each, fifteen dollars,” Castiel explains slowly, mockingly. “No tax,” he adds as an afterthought.
“That’s a lot for two records. Hell, I could get ‘em for two bucks down at the Music Shop.”
“Then go to the Music Shop. I’m sure they’ll be grateful for your four dollars. You’ll even have money left over for some more hair dye. Although, if you ask me, it dulls your eyes.”
Dean throws a twenty on the counter, glaring at Castiel. What would he know about Dean’s eyes? He hasn’t even looked at them for more than a few seconds.
“Does the sarcasm come free here, or is that another seven-fifty?” Dean barks accepting his change.
“It comes complimentary as I have plenty to spare.”
Dean shoves his wallet back in his pocket. “Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” he grumbles, turning for the door.
Castiel’s eyes are already on his National Geographic when he mutters, “Thank you for your patronage. I don’t know where we’d be without your fifteen dollars.”
The statement is dripping with insult, and what little patience Dean was clinging to snaps. He charges the register, getting right up in Castiel’s face, their noses mere inches apart. Castiel doesn’t even flinch.
“What is your problem, asshole?” Dean snaps, refusing to back away despite the glances thrown their way.
Castiel snaps his magazine shut. “I have a problem with arrogant pricks who waste my time,” he retorts evenly like they’re discussing the weather.
“Waste your time?” Dean parrots. “Buddy, you work here. It’s your job to help customers. I don’t know where the fuck you get your work ethic from, but not everybody has the privilege of growing up spoiled and rolling in money. Out in the real world, we earn our money.”
“This real world sounds riveting. Do you have a pamphlet or something I can look at? I’d love to learn more.” Castiel’s voice remains disinterested, but his eyes spark with irritation. Dean has hit a nerve. Feeling victorious, he beams at Castiel, and not even the narrowing of Castiel’s eyes can erase Dean’s cocky grin.
“Perhaps, Dean Winchester, if you have a problem with ‘our’ privilege, you should spew your blue-collar pride elsewhere. Obviously ‘we’ aren’t worthy of such esteemed character as yours.”
Dean’s body thrums with excitement. He gives Castiel a once over, appreciating the glare in his eyes and the malice in his stance. With the guy so worked up the way he is, Dean must admit, he’s more than a little turned on goddammit.
He always has been a sucker for the feisty ones.
Rather than retort, Dean winks at Castiel and waltzes out of the shop with a satisfied lilt to his step.
The amount of sweating Dean’s doing has nothing to do with the 104 degree weather outside and everything to do with the fact that he’s planning on finally kissing Cas tonight – Cas, his best friend for his entire life, and now the one Dean knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with; sure it’s pretty cheesy
and cliché to do it on the 4th of July, but ask Dean how many fucks he gives (spoiler alert: ZERO) because Cas is kinda into cheesy and cliché and if that’s what he wants, that’s what he’s gonna get.
They’ve managed to find a somewhat private spot in the seclusion of a few trees, and Castiel’s on his back, sunglasses perched on his nose, book mere inches from his face, and Dean thinks god I love this man because it may have taken upwards of ten years to admit to even himself that he is in fact in love with Cas – probably has been for his whole life – and now he’s never going to stop allowing himself to feel it, and suddenly there’re waves crashing in his chest, building higher, and higher, and higher until Dean feels like he’s going to burst – and yeah the plan was to wait until the fireworks were going, but that’s ages away (okay, like, an hour, but the thought of waiting an hour to get his mouth on Cas’s is just about the worst idea he’s heard in his entire fucking life) and if Dean holds himself back any longer… he doesn’t know what will happen, honestly, but it feels like it won’t be good.
Dean tugs the book out of Cas’s hands, tossing it onto the blanket before hovering over Castiel and pushing the other man’s sunglasses off his face – he’s gotta see the guy’s eyes; he’s met with Cas’s inquisitive blue gaze blinking up at him, and now his heart is thumping in his chest, the pounding loud in his ears – Cas isn’t saying anything, just waiting for Dean, so Dean finally takes a deep breath and though he’d planned on being more composed, words just come tumbling out of his mouth, not making much sense to him, and definitely not making any sense to Cas, “You know how much I love you, and how we’re kind of together now, and I know this is a weird time, and maybe I should’ve asked your permission first – shit I definitely should’ve asked permission first, goddammit – but it’s been on my mind ever since we made things official and I’m just, y’know, full, with, like, feelings, I don’t know – fuck – what I’m trying to say is, well I’m actually not trying to say anything, I’m trying to do something, and I thought it would be easier than this, but fuck it’s not, maybe this was a bad idea, okay yeah it was definitely a bad idea, I’m sorry, I just-“ Dean probably would’ve kept going, kept stuttering, and flailing, but Cas’s hands are on Dean’s face and he’s dragging Dean in to seal their lips together, and oh, oh, it did make sense to Cas, of course it made sense to Cas, because no one knows Dean like Cas knows Dean which is why kissing him right now, while the sun sets and a warm breeze brushes through their hair, is absolutely perfect.
Give me a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a three sentence fic.
“Just one bite, Dean, your mother said it always helps,”Castiel holds a spoon to Dean’s lips, and he can smell the tomato rice – the familiarscent of it alone offering some comfort; but he’s not a kid, he can feedhimself, he just doesn’t feel like feeding himself, or doing anything, really,other than burrowing back into his blanket cave and sleeping off the stupid summercold he somehow got hit with.
“I’ll eat it later, Cas, get that thing out of my face,” Deanwaves off the spoon, and Castiel sinks it back into the bowl, his face sullenas he places the bowl out of the way and frowns at Dean, the expression soft onhis face – Dean can tell the cogs in Cas’s brain are whirring, plotting on howto get Dean to take the necessary steps to feeling better, but Dean doesn’tneed steps, he just needs a few days to pass out and he’ll be good as new,really.
“How about a bath,” the other man offers; against Dean’swill his ears perk in interest, “with bubbles,” Cas continues, “I think I mighteven feel inclined to join you if you’re up for it-“ he trails off, obviouslywaiting for Dean to answer, and goddammit the guy is good because Dean issitting up in their bed and dangling his legs over the edge, he’s stopped,though, with a gentle hand on his breastbone, “Great,” Castiel enthuses, “I’llgo start the bathwater, you stay here and eat your soup,” as Dean watches himgo he shakes his head, goddammit the guy is good.
Give me a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a three sentence fic.
“Hello, Mrs. Donahue, my partner and I need a few minutes ofyour time; we just have a couple of simple questions we wanted to ask you-” Mrs.Donahue frowns at Dean and Castiel where they stand next to one another on hertidy, cheery welcome mat, her eyes travelling up and down the length of theirbodies with a curious, but reserved eye, as she asks, “and who are you?”
Castiel glances at Dean, ready to follow his lead; unfortunately,Dean didn’t think before he spoke when he went ahead and told Soccer Mom he andCas were partners despite them having no suits, no badges, no nothing, and he’snever been more terrible at his job than he is right now but he isn’t to bedeterred, so he smiles at the woman and chuckles, “I’m sorry, I should have leadwith that, I’m Dean and this is my husband, Cas – we’re new to theneighborhood.”
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Cas shooting him theEvil Eye of Death but it’s too late, there isn’t time to back pedal, so Deanjust nudges him in the shoulder and though Dean knows he’s doing it on the insidehe’s grateful to the guy for not rolling his eyes in front of the Mrs. Donahue;reaching down and taking Dean’s hand – his palm warm against Dean’s – he smilestoo, “Yes,” he muses in his deep, monotone lilt, “We’re very in love.”
Give me a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a three sentence fic.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel (brief mention of Jack/Alfie)
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: ~8.1k
Summary: In which the students of Benjamin Edlund High School are very invested in the relationship of their English teacher Castiel and their Botany teacher Dean.
Written for the prompt High School AU given by @deancaswc
lemonsorbae vs. @envydean vs @levicastho
Beta’d by @literaryoblivion
“Hey, Mr. W. Seen Mr. Novak yet? His eyes really pop in that navy blue sweater vest he’s rocking.” Krissy’s smiling at him as she crosses the room to her desk, dropping her bag next to her chair and settling in.
Dean doesn’t look up from his lesson plan – he doesn’t have to, really; Krissy Chambers has been one of his students since she was a freshman, and he’s long since grown familiar with the sound of her voice. “It’s only first period, Chambers, why would I have seen him?”
“Oh, you know,” and when Dean finally does look up he’s met with Krissy’s smirk and flashing brown eyes. “Coffee in the teacher’s lounge, strolling through the parking lot together, hall sweep…” She finishes the word with a pronounced “p” sound.
Dean shakes his head as he approaches her, hand out and waiting expectantly. “You got your homework done last night?”
Krissy huffs but reaches for her backpack. “Of course.”
“Good.” When Krissy hands him her stack of papers, he scans the pages absently. “And why do you keep bringing up Mr. Novak?” When he looks down, Krissy’s smirking again.
“I don’t know,” she says, chewing on the cap of her pen. “Why do you?”
Feeling his face flush, Dean turns his back on her and returns to his desk. “Page 118, Chambers,” he says, because while he can appreciate Krissy’s banter on most days, he has no retort for her today.
So hey, I just learned what a tags list is, so I guess I’ll try one out?
If you want to join, message me here or on my main blog? Or respond to this post? Or reblog it with a ‘me’? IDK, however you feel like doing it. And then, um, I guess if you have stuff you don’t want to be tagged in, just let me know?
**PLEASE NOTE, I WILL NOT TAG UNDERAGE USERS IN FIC THAT IS NSFW. - Since underage in my state is 17 (for females), that’s the age I’ll be going by. If you end up reading it of your own free will, I can’t stop you, but I will not tag you.**
You're a really great writer!!! I'm actually sleepy right now (nighttime where I am) but I'm genuinely gonna sit down and scroll through your stuff properly!!! I read two today, and Chuck, am I a fan!!! If you have a taglist, I'd like to be on it! I love your stuff, and I hope this comment makes you smile, just as your works made me (reading clears up the mess, that is my mind, at this moment) and have a good day!!! ~ Sheya 👋👋
Okay, I’m going to be honest with you. I had no idea what a ‘tag list’ was until I actually saw one the other night. I’d heard them talked about, but I was otherwise in the dark. (I’m a senior citizen here on tumblr, fancy new things take me awhile to figure out. - Watch ‘tag lists’ have been around for like, five years. Ha!)
However! Now that I know what it is, I suppose I could try it out! I’ve been writing in this fandom for almost seven years now, and I’m still surprised people want to read my work, so. It’s so sweet that you want to be tagged! I’ll post a post specifically asking for those who want to join my tag list. Keep your eyes open for it! And thank you for such a kind message. <3
Prompt 4 when u have time, if u feel like it: Cas has a garrison of cats(in my head they're all named after angels, xcept Crowley who pisses on all the plants, so he's clearly the devil) & Dean moves in under him(he wondered y that guy was so eager 2 lower the price!). Knocking on the door w/ an offer to pay an exorcist 4 the demonic noises to stop, he's met w/ the bluest pair of eyes which immediately turned apologetic, & a gravelly voice that said Michael&Lucifer were at it again. Dean sneezes
I saw it on those AU lists as person A of OTP has too many cats & person B is his neighbour who's allergic, & thought it was perfect, hope u don't mind! Dean would totally feel bad about telling Cas to get rid of them after he finds out he rescued most of them from shelters bc no one wanted them & seeing how hard he tries to keep them happy(even making them ramps+shelves to climb on), so he asks him out on a date+maybe says smth about knowing some1 who wants a cat (serves Sammy right anyway)
P.S. Sorry to spam your askbox (she said, spamming your askbox), apparently I really needed to talk about catlover!Cas and I couldn't seem to stop, feel free to ignore any and all the details that you want, I'll be happy with anything! :D Sending all my love, and sweet kitty kisses your way! <3
Hey, Nonnie! Thanks for the lovely message! As for your prompt, here you go!
A/N: The one where the guy who lives above Dean is having crazy, wild sex every fudgin’ night, and Dean’s about as done with the store bought baked goods the dude keeps giving him as he is of the questionable noises that keep Dean up all night. - Written for a prompt.
To say that Dean’s new apartment is not the Taj Mahal would be an understatement. But it had been cheap, and Dean had been desperate, so he’d signed on the dotted line without much fanfare.
And he’s not high maintenance, he can deal with the washing machine that clanks, and the old carpet, and the missing screens on all the windows, but what he can’t deal with is the questionable noises coming from the apartment above him. Every. God. Damn. Night.
He waits a week, hoping it will stop. The noise can’t go on forever, right? But when it’s been eight days, and it’s 3 o’clock in the morning, and Dean’s staring up at the ceiling, drawn from sleep by a wild thump, it’s time to address the issue.
Throwing back the covers, Dean finds his slippers - feet sliding across the carpet in the dark - and stands, marches out of his apartment full of righteous fury. Outside Dean climbs the steps and then he’s standing in front of Weird Noises’ door, and his fist is falling against the door in three sharp knocks.
It’s a minute before the guy answers. He pulls open the door, frowning, and blinks at Dean in the yellow-y glow of his porch lamp.
“Yes?” His voice is rough, gravelly, and for a beat Dean doesn’t speak. Because truly the dude is really rocking the JBF look and someone as good looking as he is this early in the morning is going to take some time for Dean to process. So he stares at him - blue eyes droopy, dark hair a complete mess where it stands on end atop his head - because Dean is especially creepy like that.
Another time (like a time that’s not shitass o’clock in the morning), and another place Dean probably would have hit on the guy already. As it were, that’s not why he’s here.
“Can you keep it down up here? I gotta be up early tomorrow.”
The man’s frown softens, the side of his mouth tugging up into a smile. “I apologize. That was Michael. He can be very loud when he’s excited.”
“He can- okay,” Dean stammers, because the dude says it like they aren’t talking about him and this guy, Michael, going at it at 2 am. “Well it sounds like fun up here, but uh- are you done? ‘Cause I really need my sleep, man.”
The guy nods. “Yes, I believe he’s finished. I’ll make sure he keeps quiet for the rest of the night. Again, I apologize.”
“Thanks uh-”
“Castiel.”
“Thanks, Castiel.”
After that Dean trudges back down to bed, and waits, eyes trained on the ceiling. When he hears nothing, he’s finally able to roll over and sleep.
~
When Dean gets home from work there’s a plate of cookies on his doorstep and a note.
Dear Freckles (I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but notice them last night, they really suit you - and you never told me your name.)
I know I’m not able to give back the sleep you missed, but I can give you cookies. I hope you find them enjoyable.
Thank you,
Castiel
Dean eyes the cookies. They’re obviously store bought. But at least the guy tried.
~
Two days later the noises are back. It’s only midnight this time, at least there’s that, but it could be 7 o’clock at night and Dean would still be perturbed. He makes the walk up to Castiel’s apartment and raps on his door.
“Gettin’ a little loud again, Cas.” Dean says when the door swings open. Castiel looks much like he did the last time, but his eyes are brighter, and his cheeks are flushed. Goddamn post-coital looks good on the guy.
Castiel’s face goes sheepish, and he blinks at the ground for half a second before bringing his eyes to meet Dean’s again. “Crowley was getting rough. I didn’t realize how loud he was being. I apologize.”
“Crowley?” Dean asks, shocked. What kind of dick parents name their kid Crowley?
“Yes. He isn’t my favorite by any stretch of the imagination, but I do still have a soft spot for him. I’ll keep him quiet.”
Dean nods, “Thanks.” That’s probably all that needs saying, but Dean doesn’t move, staring at Castiel, not ready to say good bye. “Uh, thanks for the cookies. Nestle Toll House?”
“Yes,” Castiel nods in confirmation. “I’m gald you enjoyed them.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Okay now he’s getting redundant. For a beat he shifts on his feet, wracking his brain for something else to say. “I guess I’ll just-” he hefts a finger over his shoulder.
“Alright.”
But as Dean turns to leave a hand closes around his wrist and he finds Castiel looking at him with wide eyes. “What’s your name?”
Dean smiles. “Dean Winchester.”
“Good night, Dean Winchester. I hope you sleep well.”
“Okay,” Dean manages, backing away. “You uh- you sleep well, too.”
As he walks back towards his apartment he asks himself when Castiel went from Weird Noises to Castiel, the first man to have caught Dean’s eye in a very, very long time.
~
Dean (I very much like your name),
Again I felt I should offer you something for keeping you up. I hope you enjoy pie. It’s lemon.
Castiel
The pie has a price tag on it and everything. There’s no way it’s going to be half as good as Dean’s, but letting it go to waste would be, well, a waste. Store bought or not, it’s still pie.
~
Monday passes without incident, Tuesday does, too. But when there’s another loud thump sounding right above Dean’s head, he’s almost relieved. It’s not that he’s been looking for another excuse to talk to Castiel, except for that it is.
Climbing out of bed Dean almost smiles.
“It was Samandriel,” Castiel offers before Dean even has to say anything. “He’s still fairly young and just learning the rules. But I’ve spoken with him, and I don’t think it will be happening again.”
“Okay,” Dean offers, because he’s not sure what else there is to say. Cas has a different partner four days out of the seven, and at this point Dean’s a little less worried about the loud noises, and more concerned with how he gets a spot on Cas’s list. Right at the top would be nice.
Castiel doesn’t close his door, and Dean doesn’t move from the Welcome mat. Silence creeps between them, but maybe if Dean waits just a few more seconds, he’ll have something else to say.
Eventually Cas is the one to break the silence. “How was the pie?”
“Good,” Dean nearly shouts. When he’s calmed himself the fuck down, he repeats himself. More quietly. (More normal.) “It was good. Thanks for leaving it for me.”
Castiel’s eyes twinkle. “I’m glad to hear it.”
After that there really isn’t anything more to say. It’s almost 4 am, and Dean’s certain he’s not the only one who needs to sleep. He reaches out a hand and lets it rest on Cas’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Good night,” he says.
“Good night,” Castiel responds, a small smile curving his lips.
Dean’s not even to the stairwell before he’s mentally ripping himself a new asshole because that was weird as fuck. There was no need to touch Cas, he’d just wanted to. It was still fucking weird, he reminds himself. And maybe Cas won’t ever answer his door again.
~
The donuts don’t come as a shock when Dean finds them resting on his stoop. There’s half a dozen in the box, all different flavors, and the accompanying note is taped to the lid.
Dean,
I wasn’t sure which kind you prefer so I settled on an assortment. Samandriel sends his regards and apologies. ;)
- C
He’s used to the desserts and notes from Cas by now, but seeing Samandriel’s name in print shakes him a little. So Cas talks about Dean to his conquests. Great.
~
After Samandriel there’s Gabriel and brownies, then Raphael and cupcakes, and Gadreel and lemon bars, and when Dean storms upstairs yet again, he waits for Castiel to open the door with fists clenched and teeth grit.
This time when Castiel’s door swings open, he’s holding a cat under one arm, petting it’s head with the other.
“Are you an escort or something?” Dean blurts, because even Dean - who’s a big fan of sex, huge fan - doesn’t get laid as often as Cas does.
Cas’s classic frown is back, and he studies Dean quietly for a beat. “You think I’m a male sex worker?” He asks, head tilted to the side. The cat in his arms squirms, and Castiel brings it to his chest, letting it head butt his hand, then scratching behind its ears.
“Yes?” Dean offers, but then the way Cas is looking at him is more confused than guilty. “No? I don’t know, dude. You’ve got thumps, and bangs, and plops coming from up here all night. I assumed-”
“That I was having sex?”
Dean scrubs a hand at the back of his neck. “Yeah?”
With a shake of his head, Castiel points to the cat in his arms. “Dean, this is Michael, my cat. Lucifer is also a cat, as is Samandriel, and Gabriel, and Raphael, and Gadreel.”
“Wait, you have six cats up here? Isn’t that illegal or something?” And for some reason the fact that it’s fucking cats making all the noise makes so much more sense than Cas having an un-tamable libido.
Nodding, Castiel opens his door wider to permit Dean inside. “Come in,” he says, “please.”
Inside the place is tidy. With six cats running amok Dean assumed Castiel’s apartment would be covered in cat hair and smell like crap, but all he can smell is lavender.
“I adopt and foster cats and kittens. That’s why I have so many. Some will go to new homes when they are ready, some will stay with me for the rest of their lives.”
Dean’s eyes dart around the apartment, seeing 1, 2, 3, 4 cats all peering at him curiously from behind some piece of furniture or another. “I’m an idiot,” he mutters. But when he looks at Cas, the man is smiling gently at him.
“You’re not an idiot, Dean. How were you to know it was cats making all the ruckus?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Dean shrugs.
“I won’t lie to you, Dean,” Castiel states, eyes and nose crinkling with his growing smile. “I’ve grown quite fond of our visits. Even if they are in the middle of the night.”
Now Dean’s smiling, cheeks flushing. “Me too,” he admits.
“Perhaps now we can find other reasons to meet.”
Dean feels light now, happy. So Cas isn’t running a Den of Iniquity, he’s just doing the animal world a solid. And while Dean’s no one to judge how many people someone sleeps with, he feels a strange sort of relief that he was wrong about Castiel. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?”
“Not a thing.”
“Awesome. I think it’s time you learn how to actually bake baked goods.”
“You bake?” Castiel questions, head tilting in that adorable way of his. (That’s right, adorable.)
“I own a bakery,” Dean explains, “hell yeah I bake.”
Castiel is nodding now, smile still plastered on his face making Dean feel warm. “I'd like that very much.”
After Dean scribbles down the address to his bakery he and Castiel say their good nights and Dean enters his apartment with a dopey grin on his face. Cats, he thinks to himself as he drifts back to sleep. Cats.
~
The following afternoon Castiel arrives at Dean’s bakery at 1 o’clock on the dot. It’s kinda strange seeing him in something other than pajamas, but at least the guy’s hair is still a complete disaster.
“You ready to get your bake on?” Dean asks, when Castiel breezes through the door. He hands Cas an apron that matches his own, and puts up a Closed For Lunch sign.
“I think a more appropriate question would be ‘Are you ready to burn things while I stand in the corner and laugh?’“
Dean lets out a chuckle. “You’re not going to burn anything. I’m supervising, remember?”
“It’s happened before, Dean.” Castiel loops the apron over his head, turning his back to Dean. “Tie me up?”
God yes, Dean thinks, cheeks burning, but then he reminds himself - and his dick - to stay calm. We’re baking cookies for fuck’s sake, he tells himself as he ties Castiel’s apron strings into a messy bow. Remain calm.
Dean’s calm for all of ten minutes and then he’s standing at Cas’s back, showing him the most efficient way to use an electric beater. Cas smells clean, citrisy Dean thinks, and his back is warm against Dean’s front. There is not a shred of calm to be found.
“Am I doing it?” Castiel asks, neck craned so his eyes meet Dean’s.
Dean smiles, then moves in to brush his lips against Castiel’s. When Dean pulls away, Castiel’s flushed and grinning wide. “Yeah,” Dean says. “You’re doing it.”
And so maybe Cas makes a lot of noise (or his cats do, whatever) Dean reasons it’s not so bad anymore; as long as he’s there to make noise with him.
DeanCas. Hocky players… They (the teams) get into an on rink fight dean or Cas getvpretty beat up so the other goes to apologize at the hospital where they are getting stitched up… And they hit it off? Along those lines :)
(A/N: I love hockey. But the only real things I know about the sport are: The Flying “V”, and that Jack and Bitty are MFEO. So please excuse my lack of knowledge. Fill in the accurate details where they’re needed if you know more than I do. - Also because I wanted to do zero research I made up hockey teams. *thumbs up* ;D – Lexi I hope you see this! Thnx for the prompt.)
Every goddamn time they play Cas’s team all hell breaks lose. Which is ironic considering the stupid team is called the Angels. But the guys are a bunch of dicks. Their captain, Castiel Novak, most of all - and okay, maybe he’s one of the best guys in the league and Dean’s been following his career since Dean was in high school - but seriously, the guy needs to keep his teammates in check.
Of course this time is no exception. And maybe Dean starts the whole goddamn thing, but really, Cas has been chirping at him all fucking night, technically the instigator penalty should be on him. As it were Dean’s the one with his gloves on the ground, so of course he’s the one thrown in the bin.
He hadn’t even done much, just roughed Cas up a bit, but that had lead to his whole team pouring off the bench and onto the ice in an all out brawl with the Angels.
But now he’s on his ass, nursing a bloody nose - fucking Cas and his fucking elbow - while his teammates are still being rounded up by the zebras.
And that’s when the real shit goes down. With the zebras all trying to wrangle in the Angels - most of the Hunters have already retreated back to the bench - crazy fucking Martin (who really should have retired like thirty years ago) goes straight for Cas, knocking him clean out with one punch.
Dean watches Cas go down like the world is moving in slow motion.
The arena goes wild, yells growing deafening, foam fingers, and t-shirts, and popcorn flying in the air, but that’s all just white noise to Dean’s ears as he looks to Charlie, the Hunters’ manager, and frowns when she shakes her head at him. He’s still got a minute in the box.
Watching the paramedics gather around Castiel, Dean paces. 49 seconds, 37 seconds, 22 seconds, 15 seconds, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. As soon as the door opens, Dean skates back out onto the ice, going for where Cas is still lying unmoving right outside the Angels’ goal crease. He’s pulling his helmet off, leaning over Cas, and waiting for his eyes to open.
“We’re taking him in,” a paramedic says, and then a zebra’s got a hand wrapped around Dean’s wrist and is pulling him away.
“He’ll be okay, son. Get back to your team. Night’s almost over.”
With one more glance at Cas, Dean shakes the ref off and returns to his teammates.
: : :
The hospital is quiet when Dean arrives. He’s led to where Cas is lying in an ER bed with eyes still closed, and face pale. However, when Dean approaches the bed, Castiel’s eyes slide open, blue piercing Cas’ otherwise pallor face.
“Did you come to gloat?” Castiel rumbles, swallowing hard and shifting in his bed. - The nurse said it’d only be a bit longer before Cas could go home.
Dean pulls a chair over to Cas’ bedside, settling onto it and offering Cas a smile. “Obviously.”
Cas shakes his head, winching at the movement. “Enjoy it while you can,” he grates.
“Hey, I’m sorry about Martin,” Dean supplies after a beat of silence passes between them. “Guy’s off his rocker - thinks he’s still got glory days left in him.”
“Fuck Martin.” The words are said with a chuckle, and Dean laughs back because seriously fuck that guy. After a moment Cas sobers. “Are you okay?”
“What, you mean after you clocked me?”
“If I told you it was an accident-”
“I’d say you’re full of shit.” Dean’s eyes glitter as he studies Castiel’s face, the bruise forming where Martin got him, his bright eyes, and pretty cheek bones. He remembers first seeing Cas with his helmet off and thinking, No way is someone that pretty a star center. But then, people have said that about Dean, too, so he reckons it wasn’t all that fair of him. Being pretty doesn’t mean you can’t shoot a puck. "No way was any of that an accident, Cas. You were chirping at me as soon as the puck hit the ice.”
The corners of Cas’ mouth quirk up into a smile, the smug bastard. “I was merely pointing out how good your ass looked even in all your hockey gear. Honestly, Dean, I thought you liked that sort of thing.”
“Right. And when you started talking about what you were gonna do to me tonight? Was I not supposed to get riled up about that either?”
Now Castiel looks downright proud of himself, a rosy flush filling his cheeks, smile turning into a grin. “Oh no, you reacted exactly how I thought you would.”
“And getting a concussion was worth all your bullshit?”
“Yeah,” Cas says, stretching. “Seeing you get all flustered on the ice, was quite enjoyable for me. As was seeing you worked up enough to either kiss me or punch me.”
“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that, Cas?”
Cas smiles, winks at Dean. “I know,” he says. “That’s why you married me.”
hey fea! hope everything is going well. i was wondering if you'd be willing to write a single dad!dean whose little girl calls cas (dean's boyfriend) papa one day. both men try and choke back tears while simultaneously trying to act like thats normal?
Well, anon. You may be interested in a little fic I like to call: Our Way To Fall.
janainaart
snowghoul
blakekathryn
baratheonpilled
kaledo-art
vaporwave
kianamaiart
jbbartram-illu
turnnoffyourmind