dean’s in his car with cas. he’s given his sage advice. he’s gotten cas to unbutton his shirt. cas is about to leave. dean goes, almost without his mouth checking to see if his brain is okay with it: “you do know how to kiss her, right?” and cas, very offended, goes “yes. i DID kiss meg, as you saw.” and dean laughs and is like “yeah, pizza man. but that’s like. i mean that’s a very uh. passionate, heat of the moment type kiss. you can’t bust that out on the first date.” and cas looks at him with trademark confused-cas-face and dean looks back at him. and licks his lips, more out of nervousness than anything. and then before he can chicken out, he leans in and puts one hand on the side of cas’ face and just gives him a slow, sweet, gentle kiss.
and then. RIGHT when cas starts to move in response and try to kiss dean back. dean moves his hand from cas’ face to his shoulder. pulls back, breaking the kiss. and goes, “like that, you know?” and cas looks at him and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. and dean says, “yeah. alright! go get em tiger!” and slaps cas on the shoulder. and then he DRIVES AWAYYYYY
Dean can't imagine that there are many worse scenarios for a Dragon Hunter than being seperated from their own dragon, stranded in the Forbidden Zone, bleeding and lost. It fucking sucks.
His shoulder burns as he makes his way through thick undergrowth, pushing aside vines and brambles with his good arm. His shirt is sticking wetly to his shoulder and he knows that he must have damaged it in the fall, he just doesn't know how bad the damage is. Any blood is bad news though, because it'll attract any feral dragons in the area, or even worse - the huge red one that attacked Baby could come back.
Dean curses as he nearly stumbles out of a thick shrub, emerging into a small clearing inside the dense forest. A large black and silver dragon is lying down in the center of the clearing, one wing folded up neatly, and the other outstretched on the ground at an unnatural angle.
"Baby!" Dean rushes forwards and places his hands on her scaly cheek.
Baby rumbles in recognition.
She's been in Dean's family for years - being his mother's dragon before him - and seeing her lying helplessly on the ground twists Dean's stomach with dread and guilt. She's a huge dragon, though she's sleek and smooth and clearly built for speed despite her bulk. There aren't many ferals who are even close to her size, so they've never had a problem hunting them, until now. That red dragon was even bigger than Baby, and way more vicious.
Dean mumbles comforting words to her as he walks around her to examine her injured wing. Shit. Clearly broken.
He makes his way back to her head and pets her snout gently. "It's okay, Baby. I'll think of something," Dean says, trying to sound more confident than he feels.
Sam knows he went hunting over the forest today, but Dean didn't admit that he would be heading into the Forbidden Zone, so he's unlikely to find them. He's got a flare in his pack, along with all of his dragon hunting gear, but everything he had saddled to Baby has clearly fallen off and landed somewhere else. It's not attached to her saddle anymore anyway.
It can't really get much worse.
As if that thought summoned it, Dean notices a flash in the shadows under the trees. He knows from experience that it's the unmistakable eyeshine of a dragon, catching the light dappling through the leaves. Dean immediately pulls out the tiny knife that he keeps sheathed in his boot. It won't do much against a dragon, but fuck it, he'll go down fighting.
The flash comes again, closer, and now Dean can see narrowed blue eyes, with a thin black pupil in the center. It emerges slowly from the shadows to reveal a slim pointed head, pure black scales, and a dragon not much larger than a horse. The wings on its back are folded, but they look large in proportion to its body size, and a long thin tail trails behind it as it slinks further into the clearing.
It's pure black, Dean notes with surprise.
Single coloured dragons are so rare they're practically considered extinct, and he's managed to see two in one day. He'd consider himself lucky if it wasn't for all the other shit going on.
Dean remains in a guarded stance, but none of the dragon's body language suggests violence yet. There's almost something like curiosity in the dragon's gaze as it stares at Dean. It takes another step and a twig snaps beneath its claws.
Baby snarls and curls her good wing over Dean like a huge silver canopy.
The black dragon shrinks back a little and then returns to the shadows.
Dean knows Baby can be intimidating, both to people and smaller dragons, so he's not surprised. "Thanks, Baby," he says, scratching her scaly nose. She rumbles appreciatively. "It's gonna take a miracle, but I'll find us a way out of here."
Some commotion in the shrubs nearby has Dean raise his knife again. Did the black dragon come back?
Instead of a dragon though, a man comes walking out of the shadows. He's wearing black pants and a plain white shirt, with the top few buttons undone, showing a peek of a broad tanned chest. His dark hair is messy, and there's even a leaf sticking out of it.
Dean is so focused on the small details that he completely misses the object being held by the stranger's side, until he holds it up.
"I believe this must be yours," the stranger says, in a deep rumbling voice, as he gestures forwards with Dean's pack.
Dean keeps his knife raised and eyes him warily. What's this guy doing in the Forbidden Zone wearing such casual clothes, and without any gear? He found his pack too? And what about the black dragon? What happened to that?
"It might be," Dean says.
The stranger rolls his eyes as he takes another step forwards and places the pack on the ground. He's so close that Baby makes another warning growl. His eyes narrow and he huffs. "I'm not looking for a fight."
"Then what are you looking for? A reward? Even if you steal it that pack's got a curse on it, so you won't be getting inside," Dean snaps. He knows for a fact that pack can't be opened by anyone but him. He watched Sam cast the spell himself.
"I can help you," the stranger says, speaking slowly and gently like he's trying not to spook him. "My name is Castiel. I can help your dragon."
"Yeah? And I'm supposed to believe some weirdo that just materialised out of the shadows in feral dragon country with no gear and no protective armour?"
Castiel looks down at himself and back to Dean. "I don't need it. I'm, hm, very good with dragons." He smiles a little like he's said something amusing, but his smile fades as he locks eyes with Dean.
(His eyes are so blue.)
Castiel continues, "You can be stubborn and stay here, and bleed out beside your wounded dragon, who will never heal from her broken wing without intervention. Or, you can believe that sometimes good things do happen, and come with me."
Inspired by her beautiful 60s AU, which I’ve completely fallen in love with. Thank you for trusting me with your world and for being such a kind, supportive friend. It was an absolute joy to paint this quiet little summer picnic for these two.
Happy birthday! 💖🥳
Shared with permission from the creator of the AU.
when your mutual reblogs something with a full page of tags its like. girl (gender neutral) i am filling my mug with coffee and reading this like the morning paper. i am so interested in your thoughts on this post. i love you.
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