#a-dick-with-wings

[gavrele-a]

@a-dick-with-wings cont. from HERE

Castiel’s hands on his shoulders help ground him, the warmth seeping through the layers of clothing and skin offered the archangel a focal point. Taking a deep breath, Gabriel placed his hands over his brothers and sat up a little straighter. “I’m not hurt, promise! Though the landing was a little jarring, it was nothing serious. I’ve had worse playfighting with Luc as a fledgling.”

The archangel could still feel the anger towards the witch brim in his mate, and it caused the corner of his mouth to curl into a small smile. Castiel had always been very protective of him, even as a fledgling. It’s one of the many things he loved about him. Speaking of fledgling...

“Alright, so, don’t panic? But the witch’s spell, don’t know how it was able to do this but I assume that some hard ass Enoch was involved, triggered something within me and now- well, long story short, now I’ve got a celestial bun in the corporeal oven... Our celestial bun.”

[the-boy-king-rp-multi]

"Rough day, Sam? Would you like to lay across my lap and tell me about it~?"

The younger Winchester looked up when he heard the angel speak where he'd been about to pour himself a glass of alcohol, flushing a little at his tone. "Nothing to worry about." being a bit caught off guard by the angels offer, a bit flustered. @a-dick-with-wings

[mischiefsmessenger]

@a-dick-with-wings

“ Listen- ”

Gabriel didn’t look particularly angry, in fact if there was an emotion surrounding the word it would be sarcasm, perhaps irritation if pushing it. Even so, the fact that he didn’t look angry didn’t mean that he wasn’t; and even a featherhead of Castiel’s level would be able to pick upon his frustration.

Or at least he hoped the angel would.

{ not that it would do any good if his past meetings were anything to go by }

“ I don’t know if you’re brain dead or suicidal; but for some reason subtlety is something rarely picked upon on this family. Lemme’ spell it for ya’ then.”

“If you have to follow- scratch that; stalk someone for weeks, that may just mean they don’t want to talk to you.”

[nevermeanttofall]

a-dick-with-wings reblogged your post “[text] Are you still up? I can’t sleep. (From Sam~)”

@a-dick-with-wings Sam stared at the text for several minutes, unsure how to respond. His heart sped up, but pushed pass his fear with a simple ‘okay’ texted back. He pulled on some slippers and padded his way over to the angel’s room. He stood in front of the door with sweaty palms, swallowed once, before he knocked softly.

He waited for a response, frowning when there was none. It wasn’t until he heard the knock on the door that he felt it was Sam. He got up, barely bothering to close his blue robe as he opened the door for Sam. “...Can I take this as a yes?”, he said with a small smile, pulling him into his room before shutting the door. “Was something bothering you?”

[highschccldropout]

@a-dick-with-wings

continued from: x

“Yeah, well, I was young and stupid back then.” He sighed. “I thought I could fight heaven, hell, fate, all of it. But man, every time I try to do something right it blows up in my face.” He turned to look at Cas, frowning. “I always want your help, Cas. You and Sam, you’re the only things keeping me fighting. I just...I don’t want to have to fight any more.”

He laughed a little, a harsh, bitter sound. “Peace.” Dean murmured. “I don’t even know what that is any more. I don’t know if I ever did.”

[heavcnspent]

Helping Hands || Closed

@a-dick-with-wings​

A sprawling ranch on the city limits of Lawrence, Kansas, was probably the farthest Castiel could get from the city, what without another living soul for miles and a town center long beyond that ― but somehow, against everything, it still didn’t feel distant enough. 

In all truth he knew it’d be nigh impossible to truly escape the prejudices of his dynamic but he had to do something. Back home there was no room in the family bloodline for alphas, let alone actually staying in their house. The minute he’d presented as anything other than a gentle beta or a mild mannered omega, Castiel had been taken out of school and shipped off to his cousin Gabriel’s until his parents figured out what to do with him, to quote directly. Six months later of only contextless checks being sent via the mail he’d given up ever being allowed to return.

That’s when Gabriel declared they’d have to help themselves. His older cousin worked with the law but didn’t always follow it, Castiel soon figured out. The beta had written up fake papers and somehow gotten him access to the government-regulated suppressants and scent blockers to help hide his true dynamic. No one would hire him as he was, after all. Alphas were an age old liability with their claimed predisposition for aggressiveness and emotional instability, and though Castiel had never experienced anything that, those stereotypes existed for a reason and people had a right not to hire him. He was already lucky not to be monitored and have the freedom to move around; other states had it worse. Gabriel had contacted everyone up and down the two seaboards and no doubt between to find him a job under the table; something that didn’t ask too many questions and required even less documents. Some old grump had finally answered with an offer on the behalf of his nephew and Castiel was on a plane in a blink and standing now before the Winchester homestead a thousand miles from all he’d ever known. 

Dust kicked up and stuck in his throat as the alpha took in a final breath before charging forward across the threshold of the Winchester property. The house itself was in the middle between rough around the edges and completely dilapidated with peeling yellow paint and a few broken shutters, but still with lively plants in the front yard and an impeccably clean muscle car right out of some crime movie. It was a strange dynamic, and no doubt the owner of such a place was just as odd. It took a special man to hire a city boy with no working papers to be a ranch hand. Hiking his belongings higher up on his shoulder, Castiel finally reached the creaking steps of the house and climbed up them with nervous hesitation. The young alpha quickly brought his knuckles to the door’s wood and rapped on it a few times before he could convince himself to turn back.

[gavrele-a]

@a-dick-with-wings replied to your post

"I don't think I want to read in that library again after the mess you two made."

“We could replace that mess with one of our own?”

[gavrele-a]

For lack of any better way of putting it, Dean had been avoiding Castiel like he had the plague since they had gotten back. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to be around the angel, far from it actually. With the peaceful atmosphere settling over the Bunker with each passing day, the hunter finally felt like he could relax. No, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be around the Seraph, it was because they didn’t want to face the probing questions and the challenge of bold-faced lying to a being that could snuff out a lie from a mile away. They, meaning, he and Gabriel. In what had probably been the most daring and stupidest things he had ever done, Dean teamed up with Team Free Will’s resident Archangel to pull the biggest trick yet over not one, but two supercharged Archangels, a group of rebels, two Winchesters, a Nephilim, and the angel who knew both parties better than most. By faking Gabriel’s death ( again ) and smuggling him out of the Apocalypse world inside the eldest Winchester, the two had the best kind of element of surprise on their side for when they faced Michael again, and they will face him again. The fight wasn’t over yet. But, until the two could worry about the Apocalypse world Michael knocking on their front door, or the situation in Heaven, or anything else really, they had to worry about the Seraph that would no doubt be pissed once he learned the truth about Gabriel's fate and Dean's roll in it. That was a situation that neither of them were looking forward to.

It was one of those days when hunter and Archangel were avoiding everyone, huddled away in the garage working together on one of the old cars. Both had control on this occasion, one occupant operating one half of the body while the other took the other side. It was the oddest sensation Dean had ever felt, being able to only control one side of his body, and Gabriel had to quickly calm him down from the slight panic that had ensued before they could get to work. Soon he had grown used to it thoug and figured out how to work around it Gabriel found it shocking how mundane the task was, fixing a car with Dean. A few pointers here and there were thrown out, but otherwise, the Messenger had a pretty good handle on it. He hadn’t lived on Earth as long as he had without picking up a few things, after all. He would’ve loved to have gotten his hands on that Impala, but Dean was quick to beat him over the head with a mental image of a rolled-up magazine when the thought had first crossed his mind------ and damn was it weird sharing a mind and body with a mortal again. Despite their conflicting views and oh so similar personalities, they didn’t have many problems. Gabriel grew stronger every day, and Dean found himself with a little more faith every passing day. A win-win situation. Plus, it was kinda nice for the both of them to have someone to talk to who gets it, or someone to just sit back and watch TV in silence with when words weren’t enough. Their similarities put them at odds on more than one occasion, but sometimes it also brought them together. The two men had been pulled under the peaceful lull, working methodically on the old clunker as they moved together like they had done it their whole lives, and because they had been so wrapped up in the car, they hadn’t noticed the quiet creaking of the door opening, or the flutter of a certain angel’s trench coat turning the corner. @a-dick-with-wings