June Sirius

Writer | destiel, cockles, castledevil, merthur, obikin, captainswan, etc. June_Sirius on AO3

[junesirius]

God is a Girl

On the first day, God thinks she needs to create light. But she feels a minor discomfort in her stomach, so she decides to take it easy and do it tomorrow.

On the second day, the discomfort turns into severe pain. God lies on the bed, can't even move an inch. She can feel the bleeding, she's sweating, she's nauseous and hungry at the same time. She doesn't have time to think about work; she spends most of the day sleeping and resting. She decides she'll do the work the next day.

On the third day, the pain eases a little, going back to a discomfort. She leaves the bed, feeding herself with some food. She decides she's recovered enough to catch up on work for a little bit, so she creates light. That exhausts her again, so she turns in early to get rest.

On the fourth day, the discomfort is very minor, but the bleeding continues. She does all the work from sitting on her favorite softest armchair, and separates the sky. She's falling behind on the work, but she's still not 100%. She decides to catch up on work the next day.

On the fifth day, the bleeding is minor enough to be forgotten. She separates land from water; she sets the sun, the moon, and the stars; she creates birds and fish. She works all the way until midnight and feels burned out again. She realizes she should have rested early too this day, but at least she's pleased she caught up with her working schedule. She goes to bed resting at two in the morning.

On the sixth day, the worst has passed. She gets up around noon and is glad to see the bleeding has ended. She goes to stretch and does a few exercises that she missed for a week. Then she goes back to work, creating land creatures and humans that look like her. She pays especially close attention to the little humans that biologically assemble her, and replicate all the biological features. She thinks about removing the routine pain and bleeding for them, but on second thought, thinking back on her own week, she leaves it there, thinking it's a very important aspect of life that they shouldn't miss. If she has to endure it every month, so shall those human women. It's an emotional day for her.

On the seventh day, she wakes up feeling good because there is no work waiting for her and she has no pain. It's a nice day, so she declares this her favorite day of the week.

---

God is a girl, and she has menstruation during the week of creation.

[junesirius]

They bicker a lot. Dean starts noticing. Especially after Cas came back from Empty and they talked things out. It felt like taking forever, but eventually, eventually, some things got sorted out, some feelings got confessed. All is good and they get together. So yeah, he'd say it should be happily ever after since then, but not really, they bicker so much that he'd sometimes worry if that's the end of the world again. Like today.

It's a silly cause, really. They were arguing about the color for Jack's bedroom wall. Then it gets escalated. Then some not-so-friendly comments get thrown around. Then the comments turn into insults. Then the argument turns into a fight. The real kind. The worst kind that they started digging old wounds. Dean's already grimacing when he sensed it's going that way, but his damn pride can't allow him to be the only one being blamed for some old shit, so he's throwing some shit back too. But also, his brain is still online enough that he can't allow his mouth to spit out real hurtful things that he knows Cas would really get hurt enough to be silenced instantly -- he'd never really hurt Cas. Even though they're pretty pissed at each other at the moment.

After another slightly nasty and angry comment from Cas about Dean's unfriendly nicknames and curses, Dean returns the favor by pointing a finger at him: "Well, you're the one to talk. You called me 'hairless ape'!"

Cas blinks. "That's ten years ago."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Okay -- you called me 'hairless ape' ten years ago!"

Cas blinks again, then frowns. "If we're counting the old times, then you called me 'junkless' twelve years ago, and 'Ken doll', before I knew the meaning of it. Isn't that worse?"

Now it's Dean's turn to blink. His breath falls short for a second. "Well, alright, I stay corrected. You're definitely not junkless." Dean's eyes slide downward uncontrollably. He gives a cheesy whistle for good measure. "Your junk is..." he chuckles, a little bashful, but not embarrassed to the slightest, "-- pretty impressive. I can testify that."

The tension vaporizes between them. The tense expression on Cas's face turns into a little tilted tip of his lip. "I stay corrected, too," Cas answers, parroting his words. "You're not, in fact, 'hairless'." On purpose or not, his eyes also briefly glance downward a few inches, to the place where it usually should be counted as socially unacceptable and rude, but that's his boyfriend he's eyeing, so, sue him. "I can testify that too." Dean feels his face turning hot extremely rapidly, but Cas is still talking. "Though it's definitely less than your ancestors."

Dean lets out a loud groan. "Dude, seriously? Is this dirty talk? Jesus Christ, we really absolutely need to take some proper dirty talk classes."

"I'm not aware such classes exist," Cas replies with a straight face.

Dean cracks so hard that all arguments are forgotten. The only thing he sees is Cas smiling with him. So all is good again.

[corrupt-touch]

Dean and Cas spending hours late into the night just talking, Dean struggling to stay awake just to spend more time with Cas, but eventually stumbling into his room wishing this could be something more, while Cas sits quietly alone, thinking what he wants is something he can’t have

[mab-morrigan]

sorry, i need to go scream into the next available void.

[junesirius]

sorry all the void is taken, we're all screaming there

[junesirius]

kimichie, but destiel version

Kripke, sir, I know what you are. Look what you've done to me.

[junesirius]

Do you think Dean would rewrite his memory of Cas's confession and last sacrifice the same way when they were in Purgatory? Do you think he would rewrite it so he doesn't remember Cas saying love him, and only remember Cas looking at him crying, remember Cas saying he was never happy, believing it's his fault Cas was never happy, maybe even it's his fault that Empty got here and took Cas. He would grieve and hate himself and blame himself so much like he did in season 8. And when Cas comes back, Dean's mind gets all twisted and tangled up and at one point lets out desperately saying Cas is something he know he can't have. And Cas goes like, what are you talking about, you know you have me, you know I love you, I told you. And Dean's like, no you never, you just died miserably and was crying and that's all my fault, I broke your heart and I lost you, like I always do. And Cas realizes and sighs, oh Dean you did it again, of course you rewrote your memory, because it's too painful and you'd always blame yourself for something, let me show you what actually happened. And puts two fingers on Dean's forehead. And Dean relives the Despair moment but as if hearing Cas say I love you for the first time. Dean stutters and staggers back and can't believe it, "You love me?" And Cas goes, "Yes, Dean, I love you. I hope you can remember it this time." and goes kissing him. And Dean does remember it this way so much better.

[purewasteland]

three of us.

[junesirius]

omg if it's real, this is gonna be so cool. I'm sure it's gonna be awesome.

[janblue]

[junesirius]

wow never seen that

... okay this is Misha's fault but now my headcanon becomes: Cas is not gay, he's bi

last person I watched flirting with his best friend boyfriend's mom is... Moriarty in Young Sherlock

[saltcirclesigil]

The first one on the second row will always be my favorite hehe

[junesirius]

aww baby does looking at things 45 degree help make more sense?

or is it birdie instinct kicking in?

[junesirius]

If John died with Mary that night, Bobby was the one who raised Sam and Dean up, how would Sam and Dean's lives have changed?

Jim Beaver: They would have been better.

(source: youtube)

Question: I was wondering if not only Mary, but John had died that day as well, and Bobby had to raise both Sam and Dean. In what way, if any, do you think their lives, both Sam and Dean, and Bobby, would have changed? Jim Beaver: They would have been better. Bobby seemed to understand that parenting isn't just telling your children to do a good job and then leaving them to do it. He -- I think Bobby understood that people need care. They need love, they need attention. They need constant support when they're young. And, I don't think John understood that. But, and I don't know how Bobby understood it, but he did. Bobby certainly didn't get that from his father. But somehow he learned it and he was able to make good use of that understanding with Sam and Dean. And because of him, they are not complete idjits.

Jim Beaver's answer almost made me cry, I have to make everyone see his answer.

Bobby is the best father that Sam and Dean could ever have.

And Jim Beaver is the best Bobby.

John once told Sam and Dean: "It's not my job to be liked. It's my job to raise you right." (10x09)

But guess what, you can be liked, and raise them right. Bobby did it.

And John didn't really even raise them right, he just raised them to be like him. Guess what, Bobby taught them to unlearn that lesson as well.

Bobby told Dean when he became too much like his father: "You sound like your dad. You are a better man than your daddy ever was. So you do both of us a favor. Don't be him." (04x22)

And Dean listened.

It made me so sad and so happy at the same time to think what if John and Mary died at the same night, Sam and Dean lost both their parents, but then they'd have Bobby, maybe they'd even have Ellen or Jody as their surrogate mother figure, maybe, just maybe, they could have something of a childhood, they could be kids like they should be.

They would have been better.

[junesirius]

Laundry

It's just a normal laundry day. Dean isn't thinking much when he scans his room for dirty clothes and spots Cas's trench coat hanging in his closet. Cas is in Dean's T-shirt (the one with the ACDC symbol in the middle) and a pair of soft wore-in sweatpants today, sitting on their bed reading a book. Dean realizes he can't quite remember when's the last time he saw Cas in the trench coat -- before the last end-of-the-world event, probably, and that's been quite some time now.

He walks toward the closet while asking mindlessly, "When's the last time you washed that?"

He's already standing before it and checking the pockets when Cas looks up, considering, "Never."

Dean nods, "About time to give it a wash then." He takes it off the hanger. "You got anything in the pockets you want to take out?" There's nothing in the coat pockets he just checked, but then he remembers something, and he goes on checking the inside of the sleeves.

"Dean, there is no pocket in the sleeves." Cas tilts his head a little, watching him, and then he realizes. "Angel blade is never in the sleeves. I have to manifest it, it's in the same plane where my wings are."

Dean frowns at the empty sleeve, his move slowing down. "Then why did you bring that out that time," he swallows, wanting to look up at Cas but can't quite bring himself to, he settles with still staring at the coat in his hands, "... that time, you know, when I was bad, I coulda kill you. I almost did." His throat dries fast.

"You didn't, and that's the point." Cas's voice is still warm and calm, but he puts his book down now, Dean sees it from the peripheral of his eyes. "Besides, I don't really have full control when my survival instinct tries to protect me. All my training and reflection tells me to fight back... to fight you..."

"But you couldn't." Dean's voice cracks, his hand droops. He can't help looking up now, looking at Cas. Desperate, as if he's thrown back to that bad night again. Memory starts flooding in, drowning him.

Cas slides down the bed, walking toward him in quick strides, moving closer until he's right before him. His eyes warm and careful. Blue. "I won't hurt you," Cas says simply.

"Even if it means I might kill you." Dean feels his chest tight and pain, he can't breathe.

"You wouldn't," Cas tells him, more certain than he ever feels in himself.

"You don't know that." His eyes sting. And he thinks that's the truth; he didn't even know it himself back then. He almost... he almost... oh God, what if he did? What would happen to him then? He squeezes his eyes; there's wetness gathering before his retina.

"I know, Dean. I know you were in there." Cas takes another step closer to him. Dean can feel the warmth of his body in this distance, and it calms him down -- even if just a little bit.

Dean chuckles humorlessly. "One hell of Deja Vu there." Deja Vu when their roles were reversed, when Dean said the exact same things to Cas when the angel was the one who wasn't himself. Why do they keep having those bad times between them? When did they have to keep hurting each other all those past years?

"Even if you did, I wouldn't regret it." Cas's hands land on his shoulders, tugging him in gently. "There is no other way I'd rather die than in your hands."

"Don't say that," Dean croaks, can barely breathe.

Cas just smiles at him quietly, maybe a little sadly. But that's the truth. His eyes say.

Dean clings to him like his life depends on it. He finds his hands fisting on Cas's shirt. "What would I do if I did?" His voice breaks into pieces. "It woulda destroy me. I woulda kill myself, even that wouldn't be enough for what I did to you."

"I never blamed you," Cas tries to soothe him, his hands petting Dean like he's a startled horse, but it isn't working.

"That's not the point." Dean thinks he's on the brink of crying but there are no tears, just his eyes sting bitterly. He wants to yell at Cas, shake him, wake him up so he can see him for who he is, the bad and dangerous person that he is, push him away so he can't possibly hurt him again. But his traitorous hands only grab Cas at his collar harder, pulling him closer.

"The point is..." He blinks hard. Cas looks at him in his eyes, attentive, patient, quiet, like he always is. There's the ghost of a frown and appreciation in his face at the same time between his brows. He looks at Dean like he's the most beautiful person in the world. He probably is thinking that -- he's definitely thinking that from the way his head tilts a small degree. Dean closes his eyes. He can't speak if he keeps looking into those eyes that have been watching him the same way for the past twelve years without him noticing a thing, the same eyes looking up at him when he pushed him to the table ready to kill him with that killer instinct tickling on his arm where the Mark of Cain was and the rage boiling in his veins. He can't.

"The point is, I'm not a good person. I'm not good, I'm... I'm not good enough for you," Dean whispers, barely audible.

He feels the hands on his shoulder grip tighter. He's forced to open his eyes and meet Cas's again.

Cas looks at him like he's offended, like he can't allow anyone to tell him anything bad about Dean, including Dean himself. "You see yourself the way our enemies see you, Dean."

Dean breathes hard, he knows exactly what's coming next, because he has heard those exact same words once before. He has said those exact same words before. In that most dreadful night that's forever his worst nightmare. He closes his eyes again; if he doesn't see it, then it won't happen again, right? He's shaking without knowing, only to be steadied by Cas's hands on his shoulder. Those hands slide down along his arms, holding him like a brace. This is different from the memory. So this must not be the memory.

"You're the most loving man in the world I will ever know," Cas tells him steadily, keep going.

"Don't," Dean whispers. Begging. For what, he doesn't know. Don't say the next thing, don't leave me again, don't let me hurt you again.

Cas doesn't stop. There is a moment of silence, filled by the sound of breathing. Then Dean feels the feathery light touch of a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, Dean."

Dean's breath hitches.

"I love you for how much you care about the world."

A kiss on the bridge of his nose.

"I love you for always trying to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is."

A kiss on the left cheek.

"I love you for loving me back even though I didn't know before, I know now. And you don't have to say it. And thank you for letting me love you."

A kiss on the right cheek.

"I love you for exactly who you are, Dean. No more, no less."

The kiss lands on his lips. Dean whimpers at the gentlest touch. It only lasts as long as a feather brushes his skin and it flies away, leaving the lingering phantom memory of its touch.

Cas presses his forehead against Dean's, letting out a long, slow breath. "I know you wouldn't hurt me, I just know it, Dean. Even when you couldn't believe it yourself. I know you'd never hurt me, not intentionally. That's why I have my blade manifested but I'd never use it."

"God," Dean whispers in a shallow breath, he doesn't know how he's still breathing. "I love you so much you have no idea. And I had no idea."

He shakes his head, correcting himself, "Except I did, and that must be what made me drop the blade. You have no idea how strong that Mark of Cain was, I was drowning, it was like the worst kind of drunkenness, my brain phasing in and out, I was so angry, my whole view was bloody red like I was in Hell again. But then I saw you. I saw you. You were saying my name, you touched my hand, you just looked at me, and you weren't fighting back, not at all. And I made myself stop. I had to. I... I can't lose you. Even the Mark couldn't do anything to change that." Dean lets out another shaky breath. "I didn't know that's love at the time. I... I didn't know what love was like because no one ever told me, no one ever showed me, no one ever loved me like that, and I'd never felt like that before with anyone else. All I can think is you're too important to me, I can't lose you, I just can't. I'm so sorry." Tears fall from the corner of his eyes.

"I love you, too," Cas whispers, their breath entangles, their lips inches away. "And never apologize for loving me."

Their lips press together, neither knows who started. And Dean can taste his own tears on the tip of his tongue. It's salty.

He wonders if that's how Cas's tears taste like, that night, when he dropped tears for the first time in his millennium of life, for him. His heart wrenches at the thought.

But then Cas kisses him harder, his hands holding him tighter. And Dean stops wondering. He was drowning, but Cas knows how to swim for both of them. So now he's floating.

He kisses back just as hard, holding him just as tight and close. They'll do the laundry later.

(Author's Notes: )

The conversation about 10x22 why Cas manifests angel blade, knowing he wouldn't use it but Dean could use it to kill, he's allowing Dean to kill him but trusts Dean wouldn't, is inspired by a Tumblr post that I saw a few days ago but I can't find it now, I'll add it if I can find it again.

The "Cas can swim for the both of them" line is inspired by sobsicles' "oh sooner or later it all comes down to faith" (which is incredible, everyone should read it).

(Editted Note:)

I just posted this one on AO3 too, share your love: link

[s11e17]

On Labor | 24k, E | read on ao3

Cas is back from the Empty, and Dean knows how to be grateful.

The thing is: Cas is a good guy. Dean’ll go to bat for him anytime, anywhere. He’d give him the shirt off his back — has done, more than once. Cas is the closest thing Dean’s got to family outside of Sam.

‘S just. Dean ain’t in love with the guy.

But hell, what’s— what’s the difference, anyhow? What’s the difference between Dean slinging an arm over Cas’s shoulder and Dean kissing his cheek? Not like he can’t defend himself, if anyone wanted to pick a fight over it. Shit, not like Cas couldn’t defend himself.

Cas walks in, opens the fridge door. Leans over and peers into it like it’ll have something different in it from the last three times he looked. Dean’s heart thumps. Cas is human now, and he’s— he’s in a sweater and shorts, those jersey shorts that come up just above the knee, and he’s squinting at the fridge like he’s looking for God.

“Not gonna be anything new in there—” Dean says, and then cuts himself short before he can say buddy. Cas doesn’t deserve that. Doesn’t need Dean rubbing it in, that Cas is— that Cas feels— and that Dean isn’t—

Cas eyes him over the fridge door. Drily, he says, “I’m deciding.”

“Well, decide before you spoil the milk,” Dean grumbles, feeling heated as he makes his way out of the kitchen. The back of his neck prickles, and he thinks— he thinks, you fucking caveman. Here he is, mad over nothing, just ‘cause Cas is who he is. ‘Cause Cas likes men— unless it’s just Dean, in which case, nothing can help the poor bastard.

Cas catches him by the elbow before Dean can leave. “I found some basil growing in an abandoned lot a few miles down,” he says, handing Dean a bundle of leaves. “I assume someone must have planted it and— let it roam free, I suppose.”

“Uh.” Dean tries not to react like a man is giving him flowers. “I love basil.” He’s an idiot.

Cas smiles, though, a little pleased, quiet and content. “I know Sam wanted to preserve some fresh basil for his spellwork,” Cas says, and Dean thinks, oh, it’s for a fucking spell, dumbass, but then Cas adds, “and I know you wanted to make a pizza tonight, too. So.”

Dean’s mouth goes dry. He says, quiet, “Thanks, Cas.” He puts the basil in a jar of water — he did just accept flowers from a man, Jesus fucking Christ — and lets Cas open and close the fridge door at will, while Dean goes to bang his head against the wall in the comfort of his own bedroom.

He passes by Sam on the way. Sam says, “Hey, did I hear Cas say he got basil—”

“No,” Dean says, speeding by. And then he stops, and says, “Yes,” because he knows Sam gets in his head about what he hears and doesn’t hear and what’s real and what isn’t, and then he grunts, “Shut up,” just to round out the pack. Yeah. Dean Winchester: catch of the fucking century.

[junesirius]

It's 1 o'clock in the morning and I cried harder than I've been in 10 years, 'cause every little thing in Dean's mind hit exact same sore nerve in me. How have I never realized that's exactly my wreck and mess that I'm seeing and reading and relating in Dean. How the fears and messed up upbringings and not letting yourself to want more than you need, and to believe you deserve, and to not be scared by thinking about losing someone or they leaving, or think you might be enough for what you want those who you love to have, or try really really hard to give everything you can trying to make those you love happy, but still think you're not doing enough, and that all those tries are just you faking it, that you are always just faking and lying but actually that's all exactly you, but you still can't believe someone would ever love you for who you are, not what you do, because that's not what you ever learned growing up. Even the therapy talk hits too close, everything exactly like what my therapist had said or would say, but I'd still be the same mess. Reading it and crying my eyes bloody swollen is so much more healing than therapy. (Never really saw any fic actually get Dean to therapy either, really realistic doing that, and exact reason why it hits me so hard.) Grief and love and confusion of want and loss and fear and internalized homophobia and emotional repression, all tangled together, and I'm sorting them out right with Dean and know and can feel precisely how hard it can be and how long it can take. So so happy there're so many people there fir Dean to help him sort it all out, Sam and Claire being biggest help, but most important part is still his own realization. At the end of the day, he needs to figure it out by himself, overcome all those fear and self induced subconscious repression, to allow himself to be happy. People like us have been taught since young that it's wrong to want, to be happy, being happy means you aren't doing things right, if you do things right, it should be tough and you should be suffering, so how are we supposed to know or allow ourselves to be happy? Dean has Cas and all those people to help him give himself that permission, and I'm trying really really hard for myself too. Of all the finale fix-its I've read, many of them fabulous and amazing, this one is still for sure going to stay in my mind for a long long time and every reread is still for sure to hit hard emotionally and personally. How often do you get a chance like this to feel like you're dissected alive and everything you don't know how to put into words, there are words right there, written, to see exactly what they are. This story and writing is just too incredible, I don't have enough words for it apart from appreciating full-heartedly for the writer to write it and share it.

[junesirius]

Jesus Christ, I was just scrolling through my writing notes and ideas, and suddenly got struck so hard by this note I wrote:

post-S15E18 and pre-S15E20, but Jack-focused Jack is more anxious and guilty than Dean, thinking/knowing Cas is dead because of him (and Dean thinks it's because of him). Without telling Sam and Dean, Jack tries to go to Empty to save Cas but fails, he's wounded badly and still awfully guilty and in pain. Dean has to help him understand it's not his fault (and in the process Jack would make him understand it's not his either, Cas did what he wanted to do). The two of them have to make an effort to support each other during this extremely hard time after Cas's gone, building a really strong bond. And when Dean is very outright willing to self-sacrifice for an extremely dangerous plan to save Cas, Jack says to him: "I already lost one father, don't make me lose another. Please." So he stops. At least gives the whole plan a second thought. He promises Jack he will try his best to find a different way first, he wouldn't sacrifice himself unless they're absolutely sure that's the very last thing they can try. (And Dean asks Jack to promise the same.)

[junesirius]

There's the saying, don't listen to what they say, watch what they do. Okay, this is what they do:

The only other time I see someone being so comfortable around someone else is between my parents... like when my mom gets something from my dad's bag without needing to ask where it is, or my dad gestures something without having to look up and my mom would just get it...

# Jack's POV # I guess

# old married couple

[theplushbear]

[nocasdatsgay]

oh my god

[junesirius]

Dean is canonically scared of snakes and spiders...

I didn't even realize that but I already wrote it in my ficlet

And that's not even your "Yellow Fever" Dean from S04 that's scared of everything, this is S13 Dean that's already gone through like ten rounds of apocalypse and had fought against Darkness and met God, been to Hell and Purgatory and back, and yet, this almost 40-year-old man still would put the bloodied finger (that has exactly one drop of blood) in his mouth. We didn't talk about the princessy Dean enough...

[junesirius]

literally in the middle of nowhere, with all the space around them,

they just have to walk so close as to brush shoulders

# boyfriends

# touch starved

In fact, everything in this sequence is just way too adorable and domestic, I can watch it all day, every day

# old married couple

[junesirius]

Dean when Cas isn't around:

Cas when Dean isn't around:

Husband-husband can't live without each other.

(Not even talking about the widower arc and suicidal tendency whenever the other is gone, just look at the everyday infinite text bombing and counting the days precise to hours.)

[jackklinemybeloved]

not to be mean but the first image is literally sam texting cas after dean did not tell him why cas left post 15x03.

[junesirius]

crap, my mistake, thanks for pointing it out. I was watching clips and the context slipped my mind. Hope the misled destiel people don't hate me (arghhh, it really is an honest mistake, I'm gonna switch it out, there're plenty alternatives anyway)... but anywho, thanks for the reminder