InspirationDean

[pattywinchester]

Suptober prompt 2: picnic

Dean Winchester wasn’t one for picnics. Give him a cold beer and a burger on the hood of the Impala, its engine still ticking from a long drive, and he was set. But that morning, Castiel had fixed him with those piercing blue eyes and asked, “Will you join me for a picnic today, Dean?”

Dean couldn’t say no.

Now, a wool blanket lay spread over a bed of fallen leaves, gold and crimson under the crisp October sky. The air carried a bite, just enough for flannel and scarves, but not so cold that it drove them back to the bunker. A wicker basket sat nearby, packed with finds from a farm stand off Route 33, cider donuts dusted with sugar, a wedge of sharp cheddar, a jar of warm apple butter, and a thermos of mulled wine, its spices steaming faintly into the air.

Dean had grumbled about the outing for show, but watching Castiel bite into a donut, a trace of powdered sugar clinging to his lips, had stirred something in him that made his heart race and his body yearn.

Castiel caught his gaze. “What is it?” he asked, brushing sugar from his fingers, his voice low and curious.

Dean leaned back on one elbow, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Just you. Lookin’ like you belong out here.”

Castiel tilted his head, a question in his eyes. “You’ve seem contemplative today.”

Dean reached out, plucking a red leaf from Castiel’s dark hair, twirling it between his fingers. “Just… takin’ it all in. Fall’s not bad when you’re not wadin’ through some monster’s mess or digging up a grave in the cold packed earth.”

Castiel’s gaze softened, his fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “It’s my favorite season.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice was gentle, inviting more.

“Everything transforms,” Castiel said, looking out at the trees, their branches heavy with color. “It’s a kind of a surrender... beautiful, unapologetic. The world lets go without fear.”

Dean’s throat tightened at the words, at the quiet reverence in Castiel’s voice. “You got a beautiful way of seein’ things, Cas.”

Castiel met his eyes. “I see you.”

Dean’s breath caught, his usual deflections failing him. A breeze stirred the trees, sending golden leaves drifting down like embers.

Castiel leaned closer, his voice quieter now. “I hoped you’d come out here with me.”

Dean’s pulse quickened. He tried to keep it light. “What, you plannin’ to woo me with donuts and wine?”

Castiel’s lips curved, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “No one else for miles.”

Dean sat up, the quiet of the clearing sinking in. “So this was a setup to get some alone time?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t mind,” Castiel said.

Dean laughed. “Cas, you didn’t need the snacks, but I’m not complaining.”

Castiel leaned in, his breath warm against Dean’s jaw. Dean’s hands found the collar of Castiel’s coat, pulling him closer.

Their kiss was slow, tasting of cinnamon and sugar. It deepened, a quiet hunger growing, and Dean tugged Castiel down until they were tangled on the blanket, leaves crunching beneath them.

Castiel’s fingers slid into Dean’s hair, pulling just enough to draw a low sound from his throat. The world narrowed to the scent of apples and woodsmoke, the rustle of leaves, and the warmth of their breaths mingling.

Dean’s flannel was half-unbuttoned before he realized, Castiel’s hands slipping beneath to trace warm skin. “You aren’t cold?” Castiel murmured, pressing a palm to Dean’s chest.

“Not with you this close,” Dean said, his voice rough.

Castiel shifted, straddling him, the weight grounding Dean. “I want to mark you,” he said, his voice a low confession.

Dean’s head tipped back, a shaky breath escaping. “Cas…”

Castiel’s lips found his neck, grazing lightly before pressing harder, leaving a deliberate mark just below his ear. Dean’s fingers tightened in Castiel’s coat.

“Sam’s gonna give me hell for this,” Dean muttered, half-laughing, eyes half-closed.

“You’ll manage,” Castiel replied, his voice warm with amusement as he kissed lower, unbuttoning the rest of Dean’s shirt with careful hands.

Dean didn’t resist, letting himself be laid bare under the autumn sky, Castiel’s touch a steady warmth against the cool air. Leaves caught in their hair. Hands roamed with quiet intent.

Castiel paused, lips brushing Dean’s collarbone. “Tell me to stop,” he said softly.

“Don’t you dare,” Dean rasped, pulling him closer.

Clothes were shed in a quiet rush, scattered among the leaves. Castiel’s grace hummed faintly, a warmth wrapping around them like a hearth fire, softening the chill. The late afternoon light bathed them in gold, and when Castiel moved with him, Dean clutched the blanket, grounding himself against the intensity.

“I’ve got you,” Castiel whispered, his voice steady against Dean’s temple.

Dean’s breath hitched, his body meeting every movement. “Love you,” he said, the words falling from his lips between gasps.

Castiel stilled, his eyes searching Dean’s. “I love you, Dean

Dean swallowed, heart pounding, but he held Castiel’s gaze. “Always.”

Castiel’s smile was soft, radiant, like sunlight through the trees. “I have been yours,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

What followed was a quiet, tender unraveling, a surrender to desire and love.

After, they lay tangled in the blanket, the air cool against their flushed skin. Dean broke off a piece of donut and offered it to Castiel, watching sugar dust his lips again.

“You’ve got…” Dean murmured, brushing it away with his thumb. He lingered, cupping Castiel’s face, as if letting go might break the moment.

Castiel leaned into his hand, eyes soft. “This was a good idea.”

Dean grinned, glancing up at the canopy of gold above. “Yeah, you planned this one well.”

Castiel leaned in, pressing a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “I’m grateful. For this. For you.”

Dean’s expression softened, his hand still against Castiel’s jaw. “Me too, Cas.”

They lay there as the light faded, leaves drifting down, the thermos of mulled wine cooling beside them. The warmth of their closeness lingered, steady and sure, like the turning of the season itself.

[pattywinchester]

Dean Winchester didn’t do “fall.” He didn’t wear scarves, didn’t sip lattes that tasted like leaves, and he sure as hell didn’t go to pumpkin patches like some giddy suburban mom on a photo op.

And yet, here he was. Standing in the middle of a damn pumpkin patch.

In Kansas.

In his flannel.

With Castiel.

Cas discovered the pumpkin patch two towns over while researching local lore, some nonsense about haunted scarecrows, which turned out to be nothing more than raccoons in a corn maze. Case closed. But did Cas want to head straight back to the bunker? No. He’d tilted his head and said, “Dean, they have cider and hayrides,” like that was a reasonable suggestion to a grown man who hunted wendigos for a living.

Dean had groaned.

Then Cas had added, “Also… you can pick your own pumpkin.”

And damn him, that stupid little curl at the corner of Cas’ mouth was all it took.

So now Dean stood, boots dusty and arms crossed, watching families load up wagons full of pumpkins while toddlers screamed in glee, while he glared at the field like it personally offended him.

Cas strolled toward him with two cups of hot cider in hand and a smirk far too knowing for his face.

“You look like you’ve been sentenced to hard labor,” Cas said, handing over a steaming cup.

Dean sipped and scowled. “This cider better be spiked.”

“It’s not.”

“Figures.”

But the cider was good, sweet, spicy, with a kick of cinnamon. The breeze was cool enough to make him tuck his hands into his jacket pockets. Cas looked content. His trench coat flared slightly in the wind, his cheeks pink from the cold, his blue eyes reflecting the October sky.

Dean sighed. “You really like this stuff?” he asked.

Cas’ smile was small but sincere. “There’s something peaceful about it, humans honoring the harvest, the change of seasons. It’s… grounding.”

Dean glanced around again, this time not just with judgment, but maybe, just maybe a little curiosity. Kids pulled pumpkins too big for them, couples arguing over “decorative gourds,” and teenagers sneaking off behind hay bales. Life, messy and alive.

Cas bumped his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s find one.”

“One what?”

“A pumpkin.”

Dean raised a brow. “You mean you haven’t already chosen one with a perfectly symmetrical stem and ideal carving weight?”

Cas gave him a flat look. “You’re the one who insisted we make a pie.”

Dean blinked. “I did not.”

“You said earlier, and I quote, ‘I could destroy a slice of pumpkin pie right now.’”

Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. “…Shut up.”

Cas smirked and wandered off toward the field. Dean followed reluctantly, finishing off his cider.

They ended up ankle-deep in vines, surrounded by every size and color of pumpkin imaginable. Dean nudged one with his boot. Too soft. Another one. Lopsided. A third looked like it had warts.

Cas crouched beside one and ran his fingers across its smooth surface. “This one’s nice,” he murmured.

Dean watched the way Cas’s long fingers traced the ridges of the pumpkin, the way his coat hiked up slightly around his thighs, the way the wind messed his hair just enough to make him look like something out of a damn magazine ad. Dean swallowed thickly and crouched beside him.

“Looks fine,” Dean said, gruffly. “But you’re gonna have to carry it.”

Cas tilted his head. “I thought you were so strong.”

Dean shot him a look. “You testing me, Cas?”

A glint of something mischievous flickered behind Cas’s eyes. “Maybe.”

Dean grabbed the pumpkin and stood up, hoisting it with ease. “See?” he said smugly, biceps flexing under the weight.

Cas’ gaze lingered.

Dean smirked. “You checking me out?”

“Yes,” Cas said simply.

Dean laughed.

Cas just smiled.

Back at the bunker, pumpkin acquired and oven preheating, Dean peeled off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“You’re gonna help with this, right?” he asked, pointing accusatorily at the pumpkin.

Cas nodded. “I’ll gut it.”

Dean grinned. “You always liked the messy jobs.”

“I like mess in general,” Cas said, grabbing a knife and cutting the top off the pumpkin like a surgeon. “Chaos follows me.” Then after a beat. “Like you for example.”

Dean leaned on the counter and looked at Cas with an intensity that made the air seem a little warmer than it should’ve been. “I like the way you handle your messes.”

Cas looked up. His cheeks flushed again—but not from the cold this time.

“You’re flirting,” Castiel said.

“Always,” Dean said, echoing Cas earlier tone.

Cas held his gaze a long, heated moment. Then he dropped the knife, wiped his hands on a towel, and slowly crossed the space between them.

Dean’s heart thumped, every beat loud in his ears. “You got pumpkin guts on your hands,” he said, voice a little too hoarse.

“I’ll wash them later,” Cas said softly.

Then he kissed him.

It was slow, a little sticky, warm like cider and bold like cinnamon. Dean let out a low sound and grabbed Cas by the hips, pulling him flush. Cas tasted like fall, like spice and something grounded, just like he’d said. Dean kissed back harder, tongue sweeping over Cas’ bottom lip, hands sliding under his coat.

Cas groaned into his mouth, and Dean backed him up against the counter, pressing into him. When they broke apart, they were both breathless.

“We’re gonna burn the pie,” Dean muttered.

“We haven’t made it yet,” Cas said, tugging Dean’s shirt loose from his waistband.

“Oh. Right.”

Dean lifted Cas onto the counter with a grunt and kissed down his jaw, nipping lightly at the skin just below his ear. Cas arched into him, his legs wrapping around Dean’s waist.

The air between them buzzed like a live wire. Cas’ fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders.

Then—beep beep beep—the oven chimed, smugly.

Dean let his forehead fall against Cas’ shoulder with a groan. “Fuckin’ cockblock oven.”

Cas chuckled, low and wrecked. “We could ignore it. It’s merely alerting us that the oven has reached the desired temperature.”

Dean looked up with a devilish grin. “Tempting. But I made a promise to a pie.”

Cas slid off the counter and kissed him once more, slower this time. “Later.”

Dean watched him walk to the sink, rinse the last oh pumpkin goop from his hands, and return with that same soft smile he always got around Dean.

Dean blew out a breath and muttered under his breath: “Damn pumpkin.”

Cas glanced over his shoulder. “What was that?”

Dean grinned. “Nothin’. Just thinkin’ we should do fall stuff more often.”

Cas’ smile deepened. “There’s an apple orchard near Lebanon.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Do they have cider?”

“They have donuts.”

Dean licked his lips. “Well, shit. Looks like you’ve got yourself a date.”

Cas tilted his head. “Is that what it is?”

Dean walked over, pressed one last kiss to his mouth, and whispered, “Yeah, Cas. It’s always a date.”

[smoothoperatorleclerc]

the idea of cas being hunched over a desk or the library table reading something with his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration and dean sees the slope of cas’ shoulders and the crinkle by cas’ eyes, and even though he knows cas isn’t cold, dean shucks off his jacket and wraps it around cas’ shoulders like a blanket as he brushes his thumb adoringly over the back of cas’ neck and into his hair and cas always looks up at dean with the softest look in his eyes and dean leans down to press a tender little kiss to cas’ lips

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

And I Swear God Made You For Me

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gDU6jYf by Nadia_66 Castiel has to piece Dean back together after rescuing him from Hell. Title from You Make it Easy by Jason Aldean Words: 1689, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Mentioned Sam Winchester, Mentioned Zachariah (Supernatural), castiel is a soldier, Bad Parent John Winchester, john Winchesters a plus parenting, Body Worship, Kind Of, Anatomy, Pre-Slash, Sword of Michael (Supernatural), Mentioned Michael (Supernatural), Castiel Saves Dean Winchester From Hell, Dean is unconscious, No Smut, No Sex read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gDU6jYf

[pattywinchester]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Keep reading on Ao3

[the-fluffstiel-bang]

Fluffstiel Promo #14 | The Wrong Door to the Right

Title: The Wrong Door to the Right

Written by: @imaginaryprotagonist

Art by: @stonelions

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Fluff (obviously), Director of Sales and Marketing Dean Winchester, Professor Castiel, Flustered Dean, Sassy Cas, Smut, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Comeplay, Rimming, Switch Dean, Switch Castiel, There’s an Exponential Amount of Smut for a Fluff Bang, First Kiss, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: While staying at a hotel for a work conference, Dean opens what he thinks is the closet door but turns out to be an adjoining room that has been accidentally left unlocked. He is greeted by the most attractive man he has ever seen in nothing but a towel. The man, Cas, seems incredibly amused, while Dean has zero chill about the situation. After the embarrassing encounter, Dean discovers Cas is the moderator of a panel he is speaking on.

Coming to an Ao3 Near You on February 27th, 2025!

[sailorsallyart]

Hi everyone <3

My living circumstances have changed unexpectedly and I find myself in a bit of a thigh spot financially atm so I'd love to have some commissions to work on! More info on pricing etc can be found here. You can head to the blog to see my stuff or click here.

I also have a *patreon* if you want to support me, you get to see some exclusive doodles over there. Or support me over on *kofi*!

I'd appreciate if you could give this a reblog. Thank you! 👐💕

[pattywinchester]

Seaside

Prompt 1

Dean never thought he’d find peace.  The hunter was accustomed to the roar of engines and the hiss of danger, not the gentle lull of waves. Yet, here he was, standing on a deserted stretch of beach, the wind ruffling his flannel shirt, as he watched the horizon turn from gold to a deep, calming blue.

Beside him, Castiel stood quietly, his ever-present trench coat fluttering in the breeze. The angel’s blue eyes reflected the vastness of the ocean, capturing the same power and beauty Dean had come to cherish. They had fought countless battles together, faced down monsters, and saved the world more times than he cared to count. But this moment felt different. It felt like a victory all on its own. The sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the sand. Dean glanced at Castiel, his heart swelling with feelings that had grown quietly, like the tide creeping up the shore. He thought of the countless times Cas had saved him, not just from physical dangers, but from the darkness within himself. The angel has been his anchor, his constant, in a life filled with chaos.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice was soft, barely louder than the lapping of the waves. “Why did you bring me here?”

Dean shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips. “Thought it was time we had a break. Besides,” he added, turning to face Cas fully, “you deserve to see something beautiful.”

Castiel’s gaze softened, a hint of confusion mingling with the affection in his eyes. “I have seen beauty, Dean. I see it every time I look at you.”

Dean felt a blush creep up his neck, and he ducked his head, scuffing his boot in the sand. “Shut up, Cas,” Dean responded, although it was hard for him to disguise his pleasure.

They stood in comfortable silence, the sound of the ocean filling the space between them. Dean reached out, hesitantly at first, and took Castiel’s hand in his. The touch was grounding, electric.

“Is this ok?” Dean asked, his voice rough with the rush of emotion.

Castiel’s eyes searched Dean’s face, before dropping his gaze to their hands. Castiel was silent for a long time before looking back up at Dean, his face flushed, his eyes shining.  “Dean...?” Castiel responded, incredulity, hope, and love clear in his eyes.

Dean took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before he could second-guess himself. “I love you, Cas. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

For a moment, Castiel said nothing, his expression unchanged. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across his face. “I love you too, Dean. More than you know.”

Dean felt a weight lift off his shoulders, a sense of completeness he hadn’t realized he was missing. He pulled Castiel into a gentle embrace, their foreheads touching.  Dean felt an unfamiliar sense of calm settle over him. The ocean's rhythmic murmur seemed to echo the newfound peace in his heart. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them standing on the beach, enveloped in the soft, dimming light.

Dean looked out at the ocean, the waves gently lapping at the shore. "You know, I used to think I'd never find a place where I could just... be. Where I could stop running from everything."

Castiel tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "And now?"

Dean turned back to him, the corners of his mouth lifting in a shy smile. "Now, I think I've found it, with you."

Castiel's expression softened, his eyes reflecting all the mystery and allure of the boundless sea. "You are my home, Dean," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of eternity. "No matter where we go, as long as we're together, I will always have peace."

The words hung in the air, mingling with the sound of the waves and the faint call of distant seabirds. Dean nodded, feeling the truth of them resonate. He leaned in, resting his head against Castiel's shoulder, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Bathed in the tranquil glow of the moon and stars, the two men stood, side by side on that long stretch of sand, while the waves continued their gentle dance.

And in that moment, everything felt right. Complete.  It felt like the end of one journey and the start of another – a new chapter in their lives, with the sweetest of beginnings... written right there, together, by the edge of the sea. 

[pattywinchester]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Read the rest on ao3

[pattywinchester]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Read the rest on Ao3

[seenthisepisode]

the correlation between #europe and #destiel trending should be studied by scholars i think

[smoothoperatorleclerc]

loving on island time

Kiss #24 - Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

Birthday Prompts: Country music, lover, beach kiss, purple, “Will you accept this rose?”, Dr. Sexy, sharks

Summary: Cas slipped a note into the handle of Dean’s coffee mug, set it on the bedside table, and placed a kiss against Dean’s temple. 'Let’s go on a road trip. I’ll drive.’

Word Count: 2,015 (continued under the read more). Also posted on ao3.

It had been an idea created out of something unexpected, sparked by Dean pointing out a piña colada at a bar, saying, “Not as fun without the umbrella in it.”

Cas cocked his head, stirring his own drink with a straw. “Where did you get a drink with an umbrella in it?”

Humming, Dean took a sip of his beer and his lip curled up into a half-smile. “I haven’t. It’s just the cliché beach drink in all the movies,” Dean chuckled. He changed the subject after that, directing Cas’ attention to the menu, and how Cas’ reflection in the condensation of the glass made him look even more devastatingly handsome. A fact that was ridiculously untrue yet made Cas fall even more in love with his husband.

No matter where Dean steered the conversation during their date night, though, Cas couldn’t stop thinking about Dean’s earlier answer about the tropical drinks with umbrellas in them. And now the seed had been planted and an idea was percolating in Cas’ mind.

~

A week later, Cas slipped a note into the handle of Dean’s coffee mug and set it on the bedside table. He placed a kiss against Dean’s temple before making his way back to the kitchen to get his tea. By the time he made it back to their bedroom, Dean had his back pressed to the headboard of the bed with an old rerun of Dr. Sexy playing quietly on the TV. The note was in his hand.

“What is this?” Dean asked, gesturing at Cas with the note. 

Cas quirked a smile at Dean and shrugged his shoulders. “An anniversary gift?”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas in response. “Our anniversary was almost 2 months ago.”

Cas sat on the edge of the mattress, his hand settling on Dean’s thigh. “Okay, just a regular gift. But someone once told me you accept gifts when they’re given to you.”

“Must’ve been a wise person.”

Cas smiled warmly at Dean. “For once, let me take you somewhere.”

Dean leaned into Cas’ space, brushing his lips against Cas’. “You’re not going to tell me where you’re taking me, are you?”

Shaking his head, Cas murmured, “My lips are sealed.”

“Does that mean no more kisses?” Dean asked. 

Closing the gap, Cas pressed his mouth against Dean’s softly. “I’ll make an exception for kisses.”

The note fluttered to the ground as Cas let Dean pull him down, down, down onto the mattress. 

‘Let’s go on a road trip. I’ll drive.’

~

Cas made sure they took his pickup for the roadtrip and insisted he do all the driving to ensure it remained a surprise. 

Anytime Dean picked up a map, trying to plot points to see what roads Cas was taking, Cas leaned over and tugged the map from Dean’s hands. “Nice try, Dean.”

After that, Cas made sure to change up the roads he was taking so that Dean couldn’t extrapolate anything from the route they were taking.

They alternated playing classic rock music and country music. Cas liked it because he knew Dean pretended he didn’t want to listen to country music, then he’d catch Dean tapping his along to the music against the window as they drove. 

They spent days on the road, and somehow it felt like every other road trip Cas had done with Dean, and yet completely different. This was just them and the open road. Cas driving Dean instead of Dean driving Cas. Something old and something new all at once. And looking over at Dean as the sunlight lit up his face through the window, so beautiful and breathtaking, Cas never wanted this road trip to end. 

~

The way Dean reacts when he gets his first glimpse of the beach is nothing short of stunning. A soft gasp, followed by a surprised chuckle, and then a grin spreading across his lips as his hand finds Cas’ thigh and squeezes so fondly it makes Cas’ heart ache. 

“You’re kidding me? Is that–?”

Cas nodded, tilting his head to offer Dean a warm smile. “Is this okay?”

Dean met Cas’ gaze and replied, “If you weren’t driving right now, I’d kiss you senseless.”

“I can pull over if you’d prefer?” Cas asked.

The laugh that slipped from Dean’s lips filled the truck. “Just drive. I’ll kiss you on the beach.”

Twenty minutes later, Cas stood where the sand met the concrete of the pathway. His eyes were on Dean.

Dean. Who had his feet in the sand. Even from a hundred feet away, Cas could see the way Dean’s head was tipped back with his eyes closed, sun bathing his skin in golden gleams.

Serenity.

It was written in the downward slope of Dean’s shoulders and the way his lips tilted up.

So beautiful that Cas was captivated. 

A throat cleared, and Cas tore his eyes away from Dean. “You said you wanted umbrellas in your drinks, right?”

“Yes, two umbrellas…” Cas trailed off, his gaze moving to something on the counter at the back of the bar. “Could I have one of those too, please?”

The bartender offered Cas a knowing smile and nodded his head towards Dean. “Trying to make an impression, huh?” 

Letting his eyes wander back to Dean, Cas shook his head. “I’m already his lover,” Cas replied, his wedding ring glinting in the sun as he picked up the drinks that the bartender had completed. 

By the time Cas had stepped up next to Dean with the drinks, the sun was starting to dip beyond the horizon; a purple dye stained the sky and the water below.

“Hey handsome,” Dean said, turning his gaze from the waves on the shore to Cas. 

The look in Dean’s eyes took Cas’ breath away. 

“What’s that?” Dean asked, gesturing to the drinks. There was a crinkle in the creases by Dean’s eyes as he smiled at Cas, and Cas ached to press his lips against those lines. 

Shaking the thought from his head, Cas gently offered the drink with the splash of color to Dean. “Will you accept this rose?”

Dean’s eyes flickered from the rose perched against the rim of the drink, to the matching red umbrella in the center of the drink, to Cas, and then back to the rose. “Castiel Winchester, you really are something,” Dean murmured, plucking the rose from the drink and twisting the stem back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Is that a yes?”

In a deliberately slow motion, Dean plucked the drink from Cas’ hand and crouched to wedge both drinks into the sand. Then, he stood up and stepped into Cas’ space. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck, and Cas immediately leaned into the touch. “The answer is always yes. To marrying you. To being your husband. To the rose. Yes, Cas.”

A moment passed between them, Dean staring into Cas’ eyes, and Cas reaching out with his Grace to feel the warmth of Dean’s soul. And then they were kissing.

Cas let out a hushed breath as his lips traced the curve of Dean’s mouth. The taste of salt air transferred from Dean to Cas, and it sent a shiver down Cas’ spine. 

It was so easy to get lost in the way Dean licked his way into Cas’ mouth. The way Dean let out these stuttered little gasps against Cas’ lips that melted into the kiss.

Settling his hands on Dean’s hips, Cas rucked up the corner of Dean’s shirt, letting his fingers graze against Dean’s skin. 

Dean let out another quiet groan, his hands moving up into Cas’ hair, instinctively pulling the angel closer as he deepened the kiss. Their tongues grazed against each other, and Cas chased that intimate touch again and again.

When Dean kissed him like this, hurried and desperate as if he couldn’t bear to spend a second not kissing Cas, it felt like Cas was drawing from a live wire every time their mouths brushed against each other. Intoxicating, overwhelming, and utterly addictive.

It was Dean who pulled back from the kiss, shaking as he drew in a deep breath. 

But that wasn’t enough for Cas. He needed more. Needed to let everything that Dean was consume every molecule of his being.

With one hand on Dean’s waist, Cas mimicked Dean’s earlier touch by sliding his other hand into the hair at the back of Dean’s neck, bringing Dean back into the kiss. And Dean went willingly, his fingers tugging at the strands of Cas’ hair as he teasingly traced his tongue over Cas’ bottom lip.

Cas opened his mouth, letting Dean lick his way across Cas’ tongue and the roof of his mouth as he focused on the way their lips fit perfectly together. 

Each time they broke apart for a breath, they dove back in, trading deep kisses back and forth as if it were their air supply. The sand beneath their feet, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the wind whipping around their bodies. It all faded into the background as Cas chased the taste of his husband’s lips.

Finally, Cas eased back from the kiss, nudging his nose against Dean’s before pressing their foreheads together. They were both puffing quick fast breaths against each other’s cheeks. 

It didn’t matter that Cas didn’t need to breathe to live, Dean still had the ability to steal all their air from Cas’ lungs.

Dean let out a breathless laugh, tracing his fingertips across Cas’ neck and down to his shoulder blades. “God, I love you.”

A flush creeped up Cas’ cheeks and he dropped his forehead to Dean’s shoulder. He peeked out across the water, realizing there were stars glimmering above their heads and the moon had replaced the sun. They’d spent far too long and yet not long enough kissing on the beach.

“Our drinks have melted,” Cas mumbled against the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Looks like we need more then,” Dean said, and even without seeing Dean’s face, Cas knew that he was grinning.

Dean pulled back, his hand sliding down Cas’ arm and entangling their fingers together as he started to guide them away from the ocean and back towards the beach bar. They’d only walked a few steps when Dean stopped their movement. “Oh, wait, I forgot. Found this washed up on the beach and thought you’d like it for your collection.”

When Dean reached into his pocket he pulled out a black fossilized shark tooth and placed it into Cas’ hand. Cas turned the tooth over in his palm several times. It was beautiful; smooth and shiny and perfectly preserved. “Thank you,” he murmured, running his thumb across the edge of the tooth before tucking it into his own pocket for safe keeping.

As they started walking again, their hands linked, Cas nodded his head up to the bar. “The bartender saw me staring at you when you were watching the waves earlier. He thought I was trying to flirt with you by buying you a drink.”

Dean laughed again, bringing Cas’ hand up to his lips so he could place a kiss against Cas’ knuckles. “And here I was thinking it was me trying to flirt with you all those years ago.”

Humming, Cas turned his gaze towards Dean, “And yet, it was me who kissed you first.”

Dean pulled them to a stop just short of the bar. “Hang on, I kissed you first when I rescued you from the Empty.”

Cas felt a laugh bubble up from his chest. “Fine, I’ll give you that one. But I was the one to propose to you.”

“Only because you beat me to it by one day,” Dean said as they both sat down at the bar, their hands still linked together.

“Gotta be quicker than that, Winchester,” Cas teased. 

Dean leaned over and pressed a kiss to Cas’ cheek.  “Two can play at that game,” Dean murmured against Cas’ jaw. Turning his attention to the bartender, Dean said, “Two piña coladas with umbrellas in them for my husband and I.”

[pattywinchester]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Read the rest on Ao3

[deancaspinefest]

Books, Pies, and Roommates |  Explicit |  27,731

Author: seidenapfel | Artist: Kit Shay

Everything seemed easy when Castiel landed a job in Lawrence as a literature professor at KU. He even found a place to stay with his cousin in Topeka. But the daily commute quickly gets on his nerves and he begins looking for a room in town. When he finally lucks out on a house, it comes with a catch. His mysterious landlord/housemate works and lives in Topeka during the week, and will only be at home for the weekend while Castiel is back at his cousin’s to honor a promise he made.

When Dean walks into his favorite pie shop, the new sales assistant takes his breath away. Steve is gorgeous, and part of the owner’s family. Dean doesn’t even mind that he picks up Gabriel’s stupid moniker for him. After all, Deano has one syllable more, and Dean will do anything to hear Steve’s voice just a little bit longer.

Though, as breathtaking Steve might be, he isn’t Angel. If only Dean’s book-loving best friend weren’t a mystery in himself — a guy who Dean has only met online, but who has slowly taken his heart away. And it seems that Dean isn’t alone in his feelings.When the lines blur and fantasies merge three guys into one, disappointment and heartbreak seem to be inevitable.

Link to fic  |  Link to art

Pairings: Dean/Cas (blink and you miss a minor mention of Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester)

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Two Person Love Triangle, Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love

[alecssarchive]

Dean is contemplating all of his life choices, while Crowley is having the time of his life.

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[pattywinchester]

Love this style!!!!!

[dcwildwestfest]

The Prodigal

By FriendofCarlotta | @friendofcarlotta Art by aggiedoll | @romachebella

Coming to Ao3 on April 18th, 2024

Rated E | 19,500 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Dean Winchester travels the wide-open country, looking for bounties to collect and doing odd jobs to make ends meet. Usually, he rides with his brother Sam, but they’ve had a falling-out and now Dean’s all by himself — until he meets Cas Novak, a preacher’s son in search of his missing father. Cas believes his notorious outlaw brother Luke knows something of their father’s disappearance, so he asks Dean’s help in tracking Luke down. Dean figures there’s no harm in helping out, and he might earn himself Luke Novak’s bounty into the bargain. All Dean needs to do is keep a lid on his growing feelings for Cas. (aka Free to Be You and Me, rewritten as a Western)

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

When they locate the sheriff’s office, they find the jail cell empty and the lawman tossing playing cards into his hat, which is sitting upside down on a chair across the room. A couple of Wanted posters are tacked up on the wall, edges curling up in slow rebellion where the glue’s gone too dry to hold them.

“Afternoon,” Dean says, with a nod and a tip of his finger against his hat brim. “Slow day?”

The sheriff shrugs, unperturbed at having been caught slacking off. “Every day’s a slow day ‘round here, brother.”

Cas pipes up from next to Dean with a breathless, “It’s an honor to meet an esteemed colleague. Being a man of the law myself, I mean to say. It’s an honorable profession, albeit a—”

“He’s new,” Dean says, desperate to cut off Cas’ nervous rambling before it rouses even this sleepy small-town lawman’s suspicions.

The sheriff emits an acknowledging grunt, eyeing Cas dubiously. “Name’s Lafitte. How can I help y’all ‘esteemed colleagues’?” He grins at them, sun glinting off a gold tooth.

Dean arranges his face into an expression of pained concern. “Our town’s preacher went missing some weeks back and we’ve reason to believe the outlaw Luke Novak is the one who took him.”

Lafitte’s eyes flick back and forth between them. “Where did y’all say you were from? Gotta be a mighty big place, to be able to spare both the sheriff and a deputy so’s they can chase after a preacher.”

Damn it all. Lafitte is much more shrewd than Dean expected a small-town lawman to be. “Hatsville, Missouri,” he improvises. “New town. Lots of railroad money.” Cas seems inclined to weigh in as well, perhaps to expound on the various attractive qualities of the fictitious Hatsville, so Dean hurriedly changes the subject. “About Novak. Heard he mighta passed near here recently. That true?”

The sheriff weighs him with a lengthy glance before he allows, “True enough. Didn’t come through Jubilee, but they say he robbed a train no more’n three miles from here. Most excitement we had in town was that no-account drunk Walt, claimin’ he met Novak on the trail and got his poker winnings taken. You ask me, it’s likely as not Walt stole the money in the first place. Wouldn’t be the—”

“Where can this Walt be found?” Cas asks, with the eagerness of a man who’s new to the hunt and getting a taste for it. Dean bites down on a smile.

Lafitte regards Cas with some disfavor, obviously not best pleased at having had his account interrupted. “Chances are, he’s at the saloon, trying to talk his way into a bottle of whiskey on credit he ain’t got.”

A man with information they need, desperate for a drink — hard to do better than that. “Much obliged,” Dean tells the sheriff and, with another tip of his hat, leads the way back outside. Somewhere down the street, high above the low-slung rooftops, the town clock strikes two.

[dcwildwestfest]

Love is a Cowboy

By deancaskiss | @deancaskiss Art by thestarsmakemedream

Coming to Ao3 on April 15th, 2024

Rated Teen | 8,200 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Retirement. Something Dean never expected he’d get to have, especially with Cas by his side. But here they are, and Dean knows it’s finally time. After months of searching, when Cas finds them the perfect forever home to make their own, it feels too good to be true. But it’s real. And it’s all theirs to start something new together. What was once bags packed with weapons and salt becomes cowboy boots, baskets of homegrown herbs, and feed for the animals. But Cas knows there’s one part of the hunting business that Dean still needs. Saving things. And luckily Cas knows exactly how to make that happen to turn their ranch into a home to create their own found family.

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

“No,” Dean said, pushing the paper across the table with a frown. “We ruled that one out last week. You’re just getting desperate putting it back on the table.”

Cas dropped his head back, casting his eyes up towards the ceiling with a long sigh. “Dean. There isn’t anything else within a 50-mile radius that has enough rooms to fit everyone, and is the right distance between Sam and Eileen, and Jody, Donna, and the girls.”

Dean shoved his chair back, stalking across the kitchen and leaning against the sink with his back to his husband. “We discussed this, though. A million times, Cas. That house is too dark. It feels like this bunker all over again. And slap bang in the middle of a cookie-cutter neighborhood. That’s not us, man. We can’t do the whole ‘friendly with neighbors' crap. And if something ever does track us down, it just puts hundreds of people in danger.”

Taking a deep breath, Cas made his way over to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and dropping his chin onto Dean’s shoulder. “Then maybe we broaden our horizons. Look at something different?” he murmured against the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean tensed up for a second, before the frustration ebbed away and he turned in Cas’ embrace. Cas was the one to tip their foreheads together, and Dean let him, letting his eyes flutter closed as Cas’ hands slipped under the hem of his shirt to trace patterns along Dean’s lower spine.

“Like what, Cas? What could possibly ever feel like home after all the shit we’ve been through? Nothing on Earth feels safe enough and normalcy isn’t something we can just mold into.”

Cas’ hand stilled on Dean’s back for a moment, before he inched closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to the corner of Dean’s lips. “Do you trust me?”

“C’mon that’s not fair, this doesn’t have anything to do with—”

But Cas shook his head, the movement separating their lips, leaving Dean with a sudden ache to feel Cas’ mouth against his own again.

“Answer the question, Dean. Do you trust me?”

And wasn’t that a loaded question? All the truth and lies over the years. The betrayals and the forgiveness. The loss and heartbreak, clashing with faith and love.

There was no one Dean trusted more.

“Of course I do.”

Cas smiled, rewarding Dean by bringing their lips together into a kiss. “I’ve got an idea.”