RARE PAIR READING RECS brings you 5 fantastic Scorbus fics to add to your reading list
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Links & Summaries:
LONG FIC: Let Go by sebastianL (felix_atticus)
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 192,088
Albus Potter gets through life by avoiding his family, working a desk job at St. Mungo's, holding onto grudges, and trying to convince everyone that being the son of the most famous man in the world isn't all it's cracked up to be. Meanwhile, he's determined to be silently in love with his best friend until death.
But one day, he sees a pattern that no one else has--that no one wanted him to--and things change forever.
A story about stubbornness, forgiveness, finding the person who makes you the best version of yourself, and learning to let go.
ONE SHOT: Snaked a Claim by MicheleBlack
Rating: General
Word Count: 1,613
Everyone knew Albus was gay from age five when he would dramatically swoon every time Goncalo Flores the Quidditch player was mentioned. Twenty years later and Harry still tells the tale - much to Al’s embarrassment.
ONLINE DATING: Wands Out! by RuArcher (Coriesocks)
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 23,768
Wands Out! is the number one dating app for wizards seeking wizards. Or so says everyone. Albus isn’t so sure. He’s yet to find anyone worth swiping right for… that is until he spots a very familiar face among his matches. But it couldn’t really be him, could it?
HOGWARTS: Irradiance by Bounding-Heart (Brief_and_Dreamy)
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 48,180
Al starts Hogwarts knowing exactly who he is and what he wants from life. When the things he takes for granted fall away, he holds fast to the one truth that remains - he loves Scorpius and he'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.
AU: Ice Cream Castles by gobstoneswithhector
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 18,650
It’s the weekend of a popular wizarding festival, and Scorpius Malfoy has decided to go, despite his fear of amusement park rides and no one to go with.
While there, he sees his study partner and long-time crush, Albus Potter, working a booth for his family’s paletería. Scorpius eats a lot of ice cream, nieves, and paletas and learns just how Albus shows affection and how he may have been feeling all along.
Part 9 of the #SpnStayatHome challenge @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @pray4jensen (it’s long. 11.5k)
Dean paced back and forth in the Bunker kitchen, playing with a slinky. It was the metallic kind that had a heavy, sweet feeling to it as he held it in his hand. And the sound wasn't too bad either. It almost felt soothing, like the tick-tock sound a hypnotist used to lull his victims into a creepy sleep.
“Dean, would you stop that?” Sam looked up from reading his newspaper, an irritated frown on his face.
“What? Does the sweet sound of the magic spiral disturb your sudoku-solving abilities? Or is it crosswords this time?” Dean played with the slinky as he raised an eyebrow in question. “Come on, Sammy, don't tell me you're not even a little bit tempted to play with this wonder of technology?”
“The only wonder is that I haven't grabbed your slinky yet and thrown it out the window,” Sam muttered.
“Good luck with that, we live underground.” Dean grabbed hold of the slinky while taking a handful of peanuts from a small bowl on the table.
Sam reached for the bowl and pulled it towards himself. “Dude, these are meant to be for the Pad Thai later.”
Dean looked affronted. “Hey, you can't just put nuts in the snacks bowl – and the bowl is in a public space, so it's a free for all anyway – and expect the nuts not to get eaten. They're practically begging for it. Roasted, salted, and with a touch of sour cream. It's 'Nuttylious'. Man, they really were on point with that slogan.”
Sam just sighed and pushed the newspaper towards Dean. “You've been without a cause for almost fourteen days. You need to go out and hunt, Dean, and more importantly, I need you to go out and hunt. We need to do something while we try to find a way to defeat Chuck.”
Dean frowned and went for the bowl again. It earned him a slap on the hand. “Hey, I bought those!” When he saw that Sam wouldn't budge, he frowned. “Fine, I'll take a look at the creepy case. Let's see.”
After Sam had given Dean a few minutes and Dean still hadn't said anything, he couldn't be quiet anymore. “So, what do you think?”
Dean looked longingly at the peanuts. “I think it's really not cool for you to stash those nuts away.”
Sam smacked him on the arm. “I mean about the case, Dean!”
Dean sank down on the chair next to Sam. “You mean the killer that targets grooms?”
“Well, not just grooms. The second vic was a newlywed. The wedding had been less than three weeks earlier. The wife, Mrs. Karstark found Mr. Karstark on their kitchen floor. Body was drained and the heart was missing.”
“Mrs. Karstark felt betrayed. He cheated on her. I've seen Game of Thrones. They're a bloodthirsty lot.”
Sam shook his head. “Funny, Dean. The first victim was a groom. Found dead in the bedroom, two days before the wedding was to take place. Same m.o. No blood whatsoever left in the body and both the heart and stomach were gone.”
Dean sniffed. “Well, it looks like there's a monster lurking about. What do the local authorities say? Any leads?”
“Nope, they are going by the theory that a madman is on the prowl.”
“A madman? What about the drained blood?”
“They have no clue. Oh and this was also found on the scene – “ Sam pushed over a photo and a piece of paper towards Dean.
Dean looked at the photo at what appeared to be horizontal stains on a wooden floor. “What am I looking at? So the Karstarks were messy? We thinking the monster has a grudge against bad housekeeping? Maybe it just wants them to keep the area nice and clean. Would explain the loss of blood in the bodies. A bleeding body is a bitch to clean.” Dean glanced at the paper next to the photo. “Hold on, Sammy? These all happened in the same neighborhood?”
“Yes and from what the police think, the attacks happened at night time.”
“Mm, must be someone close by then. So either a monster or maybe a witch with a spell? Okay, I'm game. Let's go.”
Sam grabbed the papers and photos. “To Okay it is.”
Dean frowned. “I already agreed, Sam. Just gonna pack. Need my driving snacks.”
“No, the town's called Okay. It's a five-hour drive.”
Dean grinned. “Okay. Something is definitely not OK in Okay.”
“Then we're on the case?”
“Hell yeah.”
Six hours later Dean, Sam, and Cas arrived in the small town of Okay and pulled into a parking lot.
“It wasn't any five hours, but we're finally here. The fine town of Okay.” Dean looked around. “It looks kind of deserted to be the buffet table for a monster but hey, what do I know about monster diets? So, we going with the FBI thing or?”
Sam shook his head and smiled. “The trip only took that long because of you, Dean.”
Dean clicked his tongue. “It was a Thai buffet. You sample everything, that's the rule.”
Cas nodded. “He does like his Thai food, Sam.”
Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah – About the FBI thing, Dean. I've given this some thought, and I think that it's in the best interest of the case that I don the FBI coat.”
Dean blinked. “What? You? You as in you solo? What about me and Cas?”
Cas looked back at Sam, an eyebrow raised. “You have a better idea than going in as FBI?”
Sam cleared his throat again and smiled slightly. “I was thinking that you and Cas need to be in the thick of it. We need to lure this creature out, whatever it is. And the common denominator is – “
“That it leaves its victims dry? That the victims all drove a Prius? I won't abandon Baby for some goddamn – “
“They were all in relationships newly formed, just married or really in love.”
Dean blinked. “So... you want me and Cas to do what? Play house?”
“Yes, let's call it that. I knew you guys would agree. There's a vacant house for rent on the same street as were two of the victims lived. I sent in the application yesterday. Since you were the only ones that applied and your records were spotless as were your references, and the recent murders make them eager to rent – “ Sam pointed at his phone “ – you're now officially renters, Mr. and Mr. Krushnic.”
He slid over an envelope that Cas grabbed. “I must say, Sam, you've been working very diligently with this case. We'll solve it in no time.” Cas opened the car door and stepped outside.
When Dean didn't follow, Cas poked his head back in. “If you don't like Krushnic we can always go with Plant.”
“It's not the last name I have a problem with! “Dean sputtered as he stepped out of the Impala.
Both Sam and Cas looked at Dean with patient but questioning faces. When Dean didn't elaborate further, Cas spoke. “If you're worried about our normal routines in the Bunker not being followed, nothing will change, Dean. I'll still make you coffee in the morning.”
Sam got out of the car, a smug look on his face. “See, nothing will change, Dean.”
Dean looked at Cas with huge eyes. “That's not – You know what? Gimme that folder, Sammy.”
Sam smiled and handed Dean the folder with the case information. “There's also some pamphlets for the local restaurants in there. Don't forget your bag, Dean Krushnic.”
“You couldn't have picked a better last name? What kind of name is Krushnic?”
Cas spoke up. “It does have a certain ring to it. I like it.
“The house is right over there. You'll receive the key shortly. Oh, and Miss. Lee, fiancee of the first victim lives right next door. I'll go and interview Jessica Karstark and we'll keep in touch on the phone afterward.”
“You not coming over?”
Sam shook his head. “You don't think it'll look suspicious if the FBI-agent that interviewed the people that last saw their loved ones dead under odd circumstances visit the new couple that just moved in? You just stay put. Act as normal as you can” – Sam raised a meaning eyebrow at Dean – “and I'll call you later.”
Dean grabbed the bag from the trunk. “I don't like this. Who says this monster, whatever the hell it is, will fall for me and Cas playing bait? Didn't you say relationships needed to be newly formed, like what? I've known Cas for over a decade. The monster will not fall for a stunt like that.”
“I'm sure you and Cas will be very convincing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Sam reached out and snagged Dean's keys.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Sam smiled patiently as he walked over to the Impala's driver seat. “I'm the FBI-agent. I need a car. Besides, you and Cas need to be at the house to lure out the creature. Try to find out what kind of monster we're dealing with.”
“You just gonna leave us here while you go play cop?”
“That's the plan. I'll play cop and you'll play house.” Sam pressed the gas and Baby roared to life.
“You got to be gentle! And don't park to close to the – “
Sam honked once as he drove off with the Impala.
Dean turned to Cas. “He better take care of Baby or I swear that – “
Cas grabbed his bag. “Sam is very much capable of taking care of Baby if you just let him.”
“Let him?! Did you see how he just floored – “
Cas was already a few steps ahead of Dean. “Come along, Mr. Krushnic. We have a house to move in to.”
The house was way better than a motel, so Dean couldn't really complain even if he wanted to. The kitchen was nice and modern, and Dean shouted excitedly at the garden out the back, not necessarily for the garden but for the huge outdoor grill that graced the space.
“Sweet, Cas. You see the size of that monster? We can barbecue some nice steaks on that grill.”
“It's very impressive, Dean.”
Back inside, Dean sat down in the L-shaped couch in the living room. The flatscreen was mounted on the wall and the house even had a minibar. “Oh, hell yeah, I'm really gonna like it here.”
Cas headed to the rooms upstairs. “We're not gonna stay here permanently, Dean.”
Like he didn't know that. “The screen is huge, Cas! Imagine us with a bowl of popcorn and a Western flick on, or a horror movie. 'Hatchet-Man 4 - the dull axe.' A classic.”
“Which side are you gonna take, Dean?”
Cas' voice sounded muted so Dean got up from the comfortable couch, – almost too comfortable, he felt himself dozing off – and followed him upstairs. “What are you shouting about?”
“I was just wondering which side you prefer?” Cas was standing in the bedroom.
There was a wardrobe there and the wall was painted in a soft blue-chalk paint. The huge window on the right side of the beds allowed the natural light to flood the room. Dean could imagine it being a nice view to wake up to. He could see another door that probably led to the on-suite bathroom but his eyes kept flitting back to the bed. He had totally forgotten about the sleeping.
“Um, I'm not really sure.”
“You do favor sleeping on your right side, Dean, so I'd suggest the right side of the bed. The additional closeness to the window will make it easier for you to wake up in the morning. Natural sunlight does wonders for when you want to wake up feeling refreshed.”
Dean swallowed. He was going to sleep in the same bed as Cas. They were gonna sleep together. Heat curled inside his stomach. Of course, they were not gonna sleep sleep together but Cas was going to be right next to him.
“Dean?”
Dean nodded. “Um, yeah Cas. That works fine. I'll do the right side.”
“Fine. Now that that's settled, let's see what we can gather about this case. We can shop for new bed linen, towels, and whatever else we need later.”
“Shopping for bed linen, Cas? Take it easy, there tiger.”
Cas gave him a strange look, so Dean cleared his throat. “I'll set up the laptop.”
An hour later, they had reread the police reports three times and not found any new leads.
Cas spoke up. “I think we should go over and interrogate Mrs. Lee. That way we can take a look at the crime scene. Maybe there's some hidden hex bags that the police overlooked?”
Dean rubbed his eyes. “So you think it's a witch?”
Cas got up and walked over to the kitchen. “That seems the most plausible scenario.”
“Yeah, what about the blood? What kind of vamp leaves them completely dry? I've looked at our vamps and the Carpathian kind. Might be a muroni. The bodies were drained of all blood.”
“Muroni? But those markings were not made by an animal, even by the looks of it, though the authorities might go for that angle.”As Cas opened a kitchen cabinet, he made a pleasing sound. “Not the usual, but it'll do.” He grabbed something and bend down, opening another cabinet.
“Cas, we're talking case here. What are you doing?”
“Well, since we're doing this husband chicanery I think we should go all in, Dean. So, as any good husband, I'm making you coffee.”
Dean's heart beat faster, which was ridiculous. It was just coffee, which Cas made him every morning. It was not like this coffee was different. “Uh, thanks.”
Cas was putting the ground coffee in the machine when he turned to Dean. “What do you prefer, honey, or sweetheart?”
Dean turned to Cas, all thoughts about what he'd just read erased. “I don't follow...”
“Since we are married, we need to have an affectionate nickname to call each other. That is standard among married couples I think.”
Cas seemed to be taking the marriage- ruse very seriously. As he should, Dean mused. They wanted to catch this monster, and if Dean needed to go all in – all in, in the name of the case of course – then he would. It was just the professional thing to do and Dean Winchester was a pro.
“I think honey would work.”
After he turned on the coffee-maker, Cas returned to the table. “Honey it is. How about you? What will you call me?”
Cas stared at Dean with such an honest expression that Dean had to turn away. “I don't know, it's not like I have given this much thought.” Which was a lie. In the deepest recesses of Dean's heart, he'd given much thought about how a life with Cas would be like, a slightly different life where they were more than just best friends hunting monsters together.
“I have a few suggestions that will pair nicely with honey,” Cas mused. After a beat of silence, he said. “How about 'hubs?”
“You're not going to call me 'hubs' in public, Cas. No way. Let me think.” He was silent for a few seconds, then he smiled. “ I got it! 'Beeloved'? You get it? Bee cause I'm the honey and you're the bee that...” Dean saw something flicker over Cas' face but it was gone so fast, that Dean was not sure if it hadn't just been his imagination.
“It is a nice joke but I do think we need to take this more seriously if we want to lure out the monster.”
“Yeah, monster.” The nickname was on the tip of Dean's tongue without a second thought. “Angel.” He cleared his throat. “Angel would work.”
Cas' smile was so earnest that Dean had to look away. “Honey and angel.”
A sudden knock on the door interrupted them. Maybe that was for the better, this whole fake marriage thing was getting under Dean's skin and only a couple of hours had passed. He needed a beer.
A woman dressed in a yellow summer dress flashed her smile as Dean opened the door. She had her hair up in a tight ponytail and her slanted eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled. “Greetings. I'm Chiyoh Roman. I live just across the street and I'm the president of the HOA committee in this area. I'm so happy to have you here. Here.” She handed Dean a tiny basket stuffed with tea, candies, and fruit, all neatly wrapped in cellophane.
Dean looked at the basket and back at Chiyoh. Candies and fruit. Where were the beer and coffee?
“Here, let me take that, honey.” Cas swooped in and grabbed the basket from Dean. “Leaf tea? How thoughtful, we love this, don't we, Dean?” Cas casually kissed Dean on the cheek.
It was just a swift kiss but Dean's body reacted as if it was a love declaration. His stomach swooped as an unnamed feeling washed over him. His mouth went dry.
Cas had kissed him.
Dean's rational mind tried to tell him that it was all due to the undercover gig they had going on but his heart refused to listen to that. Already hope surged inside him, that maybe, just maybe Cas felt the same about him as Dean did.
Cas noticed that Dean was silent and gave him an odd look. “Thank you so much for the welcoming gift. Excuse my husband, it's been a long week with the move and all. He's usually more well behaved.” He extended his hand. “I'm Castiel Krushnic and this is my husband Dean.”
Chiyoh laughed. “Oh, I totally get that moving is rough.” She shook Cas' hand. “Chiyoh. Nice to meet you.”
Dean finally found himself and cleared his throat. “Sorry, Castiel is right. It was a long drive, moving can be exhausting. I'm Dean.”
“Nothing makes me happier than a handsome couple like you gracing our neighborhood with your presence. As long as the relationship is thriving, and not the grass, we'll be good.” She laughed again, a shrill sound that grated.
Dean narrowed his brows in confusion. “The grass?”
“Yes, HOA regulations stipulate that the grass might not grow above two inches. I suggest you buy an automover. It's much easier to keep the grass short that way, and we don't have to pollute our neighborhood with noise. Well, I'm off but I'll see you around the neighborhood.”
As the door closed behind them, Dean looked at Cas. “We are solving this case quickly. “I'm not going to buy an automover. HOA! What does that even stand for? Homeowners outright anal? Two inches!”
“I don't think you have to be a homeowner to enjoy anal, Dean.”
Dean blinked. “What? That's not what I –
Cas titled his head in confusion.
Dean shook his head. “Let's go over and see what we can find out about miss Lee and her late fiancee.”
As they closed the door behind them and walked on the small walkway to the neighboring house, Cas' hand snaked into Dean's.
Dean stopped and looked at Cas in horror, sure that it had been a mistake. He didn't want to be caught showcasing one inch of his true feelings towards the angel. But Cas laced his fingers tightly with Dean's and gave him a short smile. His voice was low and he spoke carefully. “I hope this is good?” After a brief pause, he added. “For the case.”
Dean could only nod. “Yeah, for the case.”
When they arrived at the door, Dean couldn't bear to let go of Cas' hand to knock. Sure, he might have drenched Cas' hand in sweat but it felt wrong to let go. It was nice to have Cas' hand in his, to feel that strong hand against his own skin. Dean pictured Cas relaxing even more, his thumb casually stroking Dean's skin.
He knocked harshly on the door with his other hand, banishing all fantasies.
A buxom woman opened. Her hair had light brown curls but they seemed matted and it looked like she had slept in her pants and hoodie. They were wrinkly and when she smiled, it seemed hoarse. She was guarded as she spoke. “Yes?”
“Hi, Ms. Lee. Sorry to bother you. We just wanted to say hi. We're your new neighbors, moved in today actually. I'm Dean and this is Castiel.”
Cas nodded. “I'm Dean's husband.”
Dean tried not to shake his head.
“Oh, I'm Laura. I wasn't aware that – “ She stopped and chewed her lips. “I'm sorry, come in. Me and my – .“ She paused, and her face twisted.
As Dean closed the door, Laura started sobbing. “I'm so sorry. I don't wanna burden you, it's just... I'm having it really rough right now. I just lost my fiance. I don't know why I'm telling you this, you're strangers.” She wiped at her eyes. “I'm sure you don't wanna – “
Cas put a comforting arm around her. “Sometimes an unburdened heart helps, even if it's to strangers.”
They sat down in Laura's living room; an open space with a huge couch, dark wooden floors and windows with curtains that were closed.
“It's messy. I sleep down here since... I can't step foot in the bedroom. I'm heading out of town this evening. Going to be with my sister for a while. The police have my number. I'm sure they'll have more questions.” Her eyes flitted to a wall with a picture of her and her fiancee. “It's hard being here. Everything reminds me of William.”
Dean nodded in sympathy. “Do you have any idea of who could've wanted to harm William?”
Laura shook her head. “No. We moved here a year ago. William was the kindest man, always saw the good in people. I think that's one of the reasons I fell for him. We met in college, and sure, he goofed around like any other guy there but there was this genuine, sweet feeling about him you know.” She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “And this is a good neighborhood. With good people...”
Dean reached out and stroked her hand. “I'm very sorry for your loss, Laura.”
Laura looked up and nodded. “I... I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back.” She moved past him and Cas.
Dean and Cas looked at each other and stood as one. They searched quickly and when they found the bedroom, they silently opened the door.
Everything looked normal which – Dean figured – made it harder for Laura. With a room that was disturbed or contained evidence that something gruesome had happened, the mind at least had something tangible to cling to, even though the heart refused.
Cas headed over to the headboard when something made him stop. “Dean.”
Dean was there and looked down at the floor, where Cas was pointing. “It looks like some marks on the floor, like something wet was trailed along the wood. It seems out of place.”
Cas bent down to the floor and sniffed it.
“Dude, no.”
“I don't smell anything besides human blood. And I can't sense any residue of magic, angelic grace, or anything demonic.”
Dean grimaced. “That's good but next time don't stick your nose in it. You still thinking witch?”
“It's a possibility.”
They searched the room quickly, looking for hidden spaces in the wardrobe or secret hideouts in the walls or bed were a hex bag could've been stashed. They found nothing.
They were back in the living room as Laura come back.
Cas' voice was sympathetic. “We are heading out. It was not our intention to bother you.”
Laura shook her head. “It's alright.”
They parted at the door. As they were heading out, Dean noticed a pamphlet on the dresser. Welcome to Perfection Peak. Where we peak beyond perfection. HOA greetings and guidelines.” He doubted Laura would think her time in the neighborhood was perfect. Dead fiancees hardly screamed peak perfection. What did that even mean?
Dean looked at Cas. “Alright, let's talk case but first we need to go shopping. I'm starving. We need to put food in the fridge, and pour some drinks down our throats.”
Luckily, the local Wilmart was just a fifteen-minute drive away.
Cas took a cart and they strolled in together. Dean worried his underlip. Maybe he should hook his arm in Cas' arm? But that would make it awkward to push the cart and they were supposed to act as husband and husband, not a couple of lovesick teenagers that couldn't get enough of each other and went all touchy-feely in the middle of the supermarket.
Dean had a sudden vision of Cas' ripping his shirt off, buttons flying everywhere in the middle of the fruit aisle and them kissing with all the gusto from a couple in a romance novel.
“Honey. Honey... Honey!”
Dean startled as he realized Cas was calling for him. “Yeah, wings, what's up?”
Cas arched an eyebrow as Dean walked over to him. “Wings? I thought we agreed on angel. Wings sound like you want to eat me.”
Dean swallowed harshly and pushed down the positive answer, that yeah, he wouldn't mind that at all.“I improvised.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for going blank there, I was just uh, thinking about the case and everything we know so far.”
Cas answered in his gravely voice. “It's OK. Yellow or red bell peppers?”
“It's not Sam you're married to. I don't eat red stuff if it ain't meat... or ketchup.”
“Your doctor said that your cholesterol is high, Dean. I just think some vegetables would go nicely with our tacos. I'll go grab the avocados.”
“Ourdoctor has never said – “ Cas just winked at Dean and headed over to the pre-smashed guacamole section.
Dean grumbled and grabbed some dressing. He was not sure what he'd put it on, but it would come to him eventually.
“We can do some chicken wings and oven-baked potatoes. I already bought potatoes,” Cas announced proudly.
“Good thinking, Cas. I bought dressing. For your uh, bell peppers.”
“Our bell peppers. We can shop for two meals in advance. Roasted chicken in the oven and tacos. Quite fortunate, since it's a Thursday today. We'll do Taco Thursdays. Like everyone else.”
Dean felt a pang of longing in his chest at Cas' words. Sure, he knew what he was. A badass hunter, the gatekeeper against evil, the guy that saved the world. Together with Sam, Cas and Jack of course and he liked doing that. He was good at that. But he was also acutely aware of what was missing in his life.
He glanced at Cas who was perusing the taco aisle, picking up salsa, tortillas, and nachos. He'd have Cas any way he could. If that were just as friends, cause he had no delusions Cas liked him as more, then so be it.
The phone rang just as Cas looked back at Dean. He waved at him to go ahead and took the call.
“Hi, Sam. What you got for us? Any leads?”
“So get this. I talked to Mrs. Karstark. She was understandably upset but agreed to talk. The police report matches up. She found him in the kitchen, body completely drained. Heart and stomach were gone.”
“Right. Same as our first vic. Maybe the monster was in a rush for the second killing and only had time to take the heart.”
“Maybe. And judging by the police report both attacks happened at night. So it probably means that this is a creature that's nocturnal, and sleeps during the day. Or it can be in hiding, either somewhere safe or walking disguised as a human.
“Cas and I talked to Ms. Lee. We did some off-the-record investigating and nada on the hex bags or anything like that. But Cas did find some odd spot on the floor. Almost like something wet had been dragged – “
“ – dragged along the floor.”
“Huh, I hear it's the same as with Mr. Karstark.”
“Yes, but it was more than an odd spot on the floor. I saw blood.”
“Hmm. And it can't be Karstark's and Lee's cause their bodies were drained so we know it came from our mystery monster.”
Cas came up to Dean and stroked his arm before pulling at him gently. A rush swept over Dean with feelings he didn't have time to dissect, especially not at a freaking Wilmart. “I think we're done, honey. I grabbed the last items so we're ready to head to checkout.”
“Thanks... Ca – “ Dean stopped himself when Cas looked at him intently. “Angel.”
Cas seemed pleased as he walked away.
“Honey and angel, eh? Seems you and Cas are doing pretty good on the whole marriage thing.”
“Fake marriage, Sam. This is just a trap for our monster, alright. We need to ace this.”
“Well, no worries there, you're really nailing it, Dean. Oh, I also found an opened letter from the HOA, signed from a Ms. Chiyoh.”
Dean perked up at that. “Really? What it say?”
“It was a notice for them to maintain their lawn properly. Cut the grass and prune the apple trees.”
Dean rubbed his eyes. The HOA really was everywhere. Dean stopped. “Did Mrs. Karstark say anything about a fight or her and her husband not getting along? Him cooking meth on the side and hiding his cancer kind of thing?”
“What, no? No, they had barely been married a month. From what I gathered from her, and the written statements from friends and family that were interviewed, they seemed happy. Extremely so. They'd been together for years before tying the knot and friends said they acted like they'd just met.”
“Alright, let's keep in touch. I need to finish grocery shopping now.”
“How domestic.”
“Shut up, Sammy.”
“I'll text you the address to my hotel. We'll talk later tonight after we hit up the lore books now that we have more to go on.
“Right, lore books...”
“You did not pack any... Fine, see what you can find online then. Bye, Mr. Krushnic.”
“Bitch,” Dean muttered into the phone, but Sam had already hung up.
Dean grabbed a bag of barbecue coals and a six-pack of beer. They were not doing the chicken wings in the freaking oven. No, Mr. and Mr. Krushnic were barbecue-pros and since it looked like they'd be in the house for some time, they were making the most of it.
“The potatoes are in the oven, thyme and salt on them.” Cas handed Dean a beer.
He opened it and sighed in satisfaction as he sat down on the recliner in the backyard. “This is nice, Cas. Sun is out, meat is getting charred, cold beer in hand, you and me just chilling. ”
“I don't think charred meat is that pleasant but I agree with the rest of your sentiment.” Cas took a gulp of his beer and grabbed Dean's hand. “You don't have a ring on.”
“So put a ring on it.” Dean laughed but Cas looked serious.
“It is a custom that husbands have rings. It's an outward sign of claim. Do you want a ring?”
“I'm sure that people will believe we're married.” Dean eyed Cas' blue T-shirt, how it fit snugly, highlighting all the muscles that the usual trench coat outfit hid. He licked his lips. “We're already at the coordinated clothes stage.” Dean pointed at his own blue T-shirt. “See, we're practically married anyway.”
Cas squinted at Dean but didn't say anything.
“I mean in theory. I'm not saying that we – we are married, it's not like we have a marriage license. Not that I wouldn't say no... but for the case...” A marriage license? He needed to shut up, like yesterday. “I'ma go and see if the chicken wings are done. Go set the table.”
“I already did that. And made the bed, and cleaned the bathroom.”
Dean shook his head. “Wow, Cas. You're the Energizer bunny. When did you have time to do all that?”
“When you tried to achieve the 'perfect marinade'. It's good to know that one of us is organized.”
“I'm organized. Who did you think fixed all the dirty laundry Sam created when he was a teenager? Or who had to clean up all his messes when he was in his terrible two's – which went on way beyond him being two I might add? But marinades take time, Cas. It's like the finest spell work, each ingredient necessary for the final product. You can say I'm a marinade magician.” Dean flashed a smile towards Cas.
“Let's not say that,” Cas grumbled. “Do you want us to do some more research before dinner?”
Dean knew that they should; they were not in Okay to have dinner parties and sunbathe but for once, one part of the hunt was to actually do some R&R, and Dean wanted to just savor that moment. Savor time alone with Cas. “Nah, let's just enjoy ourselves for a moment.”
“I can't believe that you actually think Val Kilmer is the superior Batman. Do I even know you, Cas? Have you not seen the recent Batman movies?”
Cas chewed on a potato, shaking his head. “No, it wasn't on your list.” He paused for a moment. “If you want we can watch one of the Batman movies with Christian Bale. To rectify that mistake.”
“Alright.” Dean tried not to get too excited. They were actually doing Netflix and chill in the literal sense, nothing else.“I'd love to.” A buzz in his pocket made him jump up.
He fished up his phone. It was a message from Sam. I think I found it. Look up the Manananggal.
The man and the gal? “Time to hit the computer, Cas.”
“I think this is it, Dean. A cannibalistic vampire that sucks its victims dry.”
Dean took a sip from his beer. “Sure fits the bill. Anything on how it chooses its victims?”
Cas was silent for a moment, reading. “It says here that the manananggal haunts newlyweds and couples in love. I wonder why Sam thought we would be able to bring it out.” He looked at Dean quickly before averting his gaze.
Dean coughed slightly. “Um, the fake marriage thing. If it thinks we're married, it might just go for us.”
“We are in a fake marriage, Dean. You think this will be sufficient?”
“Hope so.”
“I think the best course of action is to 'lay it on real thick' as the kids say. Make the manananggal believe we're married.”
Dean took another swipe of his beer but it did nothing to mitigate the dryness in his throat. He and Cas had been holding hands all freaking day outside. Not that Dean objected but what else could they do? “Provoke it and goad it into attacking us. So we need to exude love and sunshine?”
“I wouldn't put it exactly like that but yes.”
A line further down caught Dean's attention. “Check this out. The word manananggal means “the one who separates itself. Apparently it hunts at night and hides the lower body somewhere since it's vulnerable. It becomes immobile. The upper half of the torso sprouts wings and off it goes hunting for couples. It was left at the altar so that's why it targets grooms.”
“That makes sense with which people were attacked.”
“Oh, and it drags its body along, entrails hanging out and sucks its victims dry with an elongated tongue. You remember those marks we saw on the floor. God, that must have been... fluids left behind from its inside bits saying hello. Gross.”
“Nothing on how to kill it though. Maybe Sam can check his lore books, there might be additional information there. You can pour salt in the corner of your house to shield yourself from it.”
“Mm, but we don't want that, Cas. We want the son-uva-bitch to come to us.”
Cas leaned into Dean, their arms pressing against each other. A flush of warmth passed over Dean. He needed to stop, Cas just wanted a better look. “You see this, Dean?”
Dean read the paragraph. “Great. It's can disguise itself as a human during the day. So we're looking for something that looks like a human.”
“Yes. But we still don't really know how it knows who is in love or newly married.”
Dean shut the laptop down. “No. If it poses as a human, it must be someone who knows everything about the neighborhood. A person that's nosy. An old lady! They're nosy. Always spreading gossip and chit-chatting about Sudoku. We know about any old neighbors around?”
“No, most seem to be fairly young or families with kids.”
“Great.” Let's just try to refocus tomorrow. Now we have a lead at least.”
The hours passed quickly and Cas seemed to enjoy the movie. “Are you still gonna claim Val Kilmer is superior?” Dean spat the toothpaste foam in the sink and continued brushing.
“This Christian Bale had his points. But I do think his voice was rather gravely.”
Dean shook his head and paused his brushing, the toothbrush hanging by the corner of his mouth. “There's no such things as a voice being too gravely, Cas. People dig gravely voices... Your voice is gravely.”
Cas stopped his brushing. “It is. Do you... dig my gravely voice?”
“Uh, I mean, not that I've put much thought too it but. I – You do have a gravely voice, I've noticed that.”
Cas cleaned his toothbrush. The harsh bathroom light did nothing to hide the intensity of the blue in his eyes. He leaned in close to Dean and put the brush back in its place. “Mm.”
“It's nice. Your voice I mean.” Dean tried not to think about how Cas' body pressed against his own and how much he enjoyed the feeling.”
“It is nice. But do you like it?” Cas waited patiently like this was some goddamn quiz that Dean needed to pass.
Dean was under no illusion that he was gonna ace this, he was failing miserably. “I do?”
Cas just hummed and raised his finger to Dean's cheek. Casually he swiped over Dean's skin. “You have something there, honey.”
The touch left a burning trail behind and Dean feared to speak. He was wide-eyed and trying not to moan with the sheer hotness of it all.
“Some toothpaste.”
“Mm, I'm a messy brusher,” Dean whispered.
“I know.” It seemed that Cas wanted to say something more but he turned and left Dean alone with his very confused feelings.
Dean sat down on the toilet, only to stand up again. He splashed his face with some water but it still felt like his face was on fire. He needed to remind himself that this was only fake. Cas did not love him for real, not like that. This was all in the name of catching some two-piece winged vamp monster.
As Dean walked into the bedroom, he saw Cas in bed. Under the freaking covers.
His body went cold. He had not thought about sleeping arrangements at all. “I see you picked a good spot there, Cas.” He laughed hoarsely.
“Yes. Husbands sleep together, you can join me.”
Dean chased away all the images of himself and Cas his mind provided at Cas' statement. “Right. Of course.” He slipped down under the covers and tried not to be acutely aware of the warmth coming off of Cas' body. He was like a furnace or maybe it was Dean's own body that was on fire.
Cas turned off the lights. “Good night, Dean.”
“Good night, Cas.” Dean exhaled slowly and turned to the side. He realized that he was facing Cas' face, mere inches apart from his own. Who the fuck made this bed and how on earth was this considered a proper size for two adults?
Cas looked at him. “I don't require much sleep. I think I'll meditate for a while.”
“Like that? With open eyes?”
“I can get up if you want.” Cas paused.
Dean waited for something more but when it didn't come he broke the silence. “No. Stay. I can sleep anyway.” Dean turned the other way and stiffened when he felt Cas' groin pressed against his ass. He didn't know what to do. If he moved, then things would get really awkward. If he didn't move... well, things were already awkward.
Dean decided to go for option number three: breathe slowly and hope sleep would find him quickly.
The light shone through the blinds. Dean stirred slowly, squinting against the sun. As he turned, the fleeting thoughts from a dream came to him. Someone that had intimate knowledge about the area and its people. Someone who greeted him and Cas as soon as they moved in. The HOA woman, Chiyoh Roman!
Dean was about to shake Cas awake to tell him his Eureka moment when he became aware of things that were not his body. During the night, Cas had snuggled in close or maybe it was Dean and now they were clinging to each other like overcooked spaghetti.
Dean realized that his left arm was heavy and numb. It was stuck under the pillow and Cas had put his head over it, effectively strangling all blood-circulation for God knew how many hours. His arm was draped over Dean's waist and their legs were touching each other.
He stayed like that for a while, pretending that this was mutual. Something that they both wanted and not an accident of nightly sleep movements. Cas stirred in his sleep, turning more towards Dean.
A smile bloomed on Dean's face. Cas really was beautiful. He never had time to really look at Cas unapologetically but now he took it. Cas' disheveled hair, the fullness of his lips, how his eyelashes cast tiny shadows underneath his eyes. The smoothness of his skin. Dean wanted to reach out and touch him.
Azure blue eyes looked at him suddenly.
Dean startled and tried to move away but his arm was still stuck under Cas' pillow. He pulled harder and Cas' head flopped up and then down on the pillow again.
Cas flew from the bed but where he was elegant, like a swan or some other bird creature – Dean did know jackshit about birds – he managed to tangle himself into the bed sheets and fell face-first on the carpeted floor.
He groaned and wished that the earth would swallow him.
Cas was by his side and pulled him up to kneeling. “Dean, are you alright?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks to whoever invented polypropylene, right?”
“You do have a thick skull, I think you'd be fine even without the carpet.”
Dean glared at Cas, and suddenly the embarrassment he felt earlier was gone. It quickly came back when he realized he was staring at Cas' groin. He hurriedly got up on his feet.
Cas cleared his throat. “Here.”
Time stopped as if this was a pivotal moment. Dean imagined touching Cas purposefully, taking his hand and holding it to his chest as any husband would do. Husband. If things could be so effortless between them. Not necessarily that Dean wanted to marry Cas but to know that Cas loved him like he loved Cas, that would have been a good thing.
Dean smiled slightly, red coloring his cheeks – he really enjoyed looking at Cas when he slept, although it made him sound like a creep. “I can't,” he chuckled.
“What do you mean?”
“My arm is asleep. I couldn't move it if my life depended on it.”
“Oh,”. Cas looked surprised but sprang into action. “I'll do it.” He spread the cover and went around Dean. Wrapping his arms around Dean's waist, he tied the cover off.
“Thank you,” Dean whispered.
“You're welcome, honey.” Cas' hands lingered on Dean's skin and when they fell away, a stab of disappointment hit Dean.
“Anytime angel.” After a moment of silence, Dean groaned. “Crap, we were supposed to eat tacos yesterday! It was Thursday and all.”
“I don't understand Dean, it was you who insisted we barbecue. And I fail to see how this is so relevant that you jump out of bed.”
“It's not about the tacos, Cas, even though that was a huge mistake. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you when we get back to the Bunker. It's about the house lady!” He pointed towards the window.
Cas looked at Dean and spoke slowly. “We don't have... a cleaning service.”
Dean shook his head, and grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on. “No, no. You remember how we read that the Manananggal could shift? The HOA person! Chiyoh! It's the perfect disguise. If she doesn't suck your energy dry by wanting you to mow the freaking lawn four times a week and grow yellow tulips, then she sucks you dry literally because she's jealous of your awesome love life.”
“That sounds plausible, but we don't exactly have a love life, Dean.”
We could fix that, Dean wanted to say. But he was not that big of an idiot. “We do as we've done in this marriage until now, Cas.” Dean grinned. “We fake it.”
Cas was more efficient than Dean and had already put on causal clothes while Dean was still fiddling with his T-shirt. “I mean, think about it. It all makes sense. She greets all the new-comers, probably does a whole fucking interview while spilling all HOA-rules and there she has time to do her manananggal magic and sniff out the ones that are high on the love-juice.”
“That may be, but how do you propose we get close to her?”
“Oh, I have a plan.” Dean walked over to the wardrobe and dove in. After a few seconds, he pulled out a pair of binoculars. “Ha, look at these babies, Cas. Premium quality, for Wilmart anyway, and most importantly, they have night vision!”
During breakfast, they called Sam.
”Hey, Mr. Krushnic and Mr. Krushnic. How is life?”
Dean swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs and drank a sip of juice, letting the silence drag on.
“Dean?”
Cas raised an eyebrow but Dean shook his head.”
“Dean, can you hear me?”
“Nope, Mr. Krushnic is deaf to bullshit.”
Sam sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, sorry. Now tell me why you called.”
“Chiyoh, the HOA-lady. Her name come up during the investigation?”
“No, I mean, yeah, since they found a card with her name on it. They talked to her briefly but let her go. There was no physical evidence whatsoever to tie her to the crime scene – the card could've been from an earlier time. And no motive according to the detectives. You thinking she's the manananggal?”
“Yep. I think we should pay her a nightly visit and check if she has a penchant for blood-sucking.”
“Alright, so what's the plan?”
After relaying the plan to Sam, Dean and Cas agreed to meet later in the evening.
“You think the bait will work?” Cas sounded skeptical.
Dean nodded. “Of course, angel. We fake it until we make it.” He smiled but the words tasted bitter on his tongue. He got up.
“Where are we going?”
“Nowhere, just need to clean my gun. You can never be too prepared.” Grabbing his plate with some leftover eggs, Dean moved to go to the kitchen.
Cas intercepted him, a hand on his arm holding him back. His blue eyes shone with concern. “Dean, are you alright? You haven't even touched your coffee.”
Dean glanced at the full mug and cleared his throat. “Mm, I'm fine, Cas.” The truth was that he wasn't fine. He was glad they were close to catching the monster, but a substantial part of him dreaded them leaving the house. Sure, Cas was not really his husband, but the stolen glances, and hand-holding – how they had slept close together at night – he was going to miss that.
Cas smiled weakly. “A marriage requires honesty.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Funny, Cas. Fine... I'm just gonna – miss this.”
“Sleep-ins, a hearty breakfast and monster hunting. We do that all the time.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we do.”
As the day progressed, Dean got antsier. It was an odd combination of preparing for the night's hunt and losing something that he'd finally gotten a taste of, something that he wanted more of. He wanted not just more, he wanted all of it. If his want was a spine, he was ready to crack it open and suck that marrow out.
They were almost home from an evening walk Cas insisted that they take. Dean had complained but it felt nice and it was yet another excuse to hold Cas' hand. He ignored the voice that added 'one last time' to his every thought.
“Tacos tonight?”
“Sure, Cas.”
“Alright, honey.” Cas smiled proudly and waited. When Dean didn't say anything, Cas poked him in the chest.
“Fine. Alright, angel. Tacos sounds good.”
Cas squeezed Dean's hand. “Can't wait for those bell peppers to be eaten. I've prepared them. I read somewhere that cooking food can be a good way to bring couples together.”
“So can fucking.” What was wrong with him? Did just a few days with Cas playing at being his husband rob him of all common sense?
Cas was silent for a beat, then a small smile played on his place. “So can fucking. I'll start with the tacos.” He turned, hesitated for a brief second and then leaned in close to Dean, giving him a soft peck on the cheek.
Dean was almost starting to think that Cas flirted with him... but on the other hand, he was probably just really into capturing the blood-sucking creep.
The tacos were good, even with the bell peppers, Dean had to give Cas that.
“So I trust I'll see bell peppers on the table from now on when we have taco night?”
Dean wiped his mouth and opened another beer. “Sure, Sam will be ecstatic. What time is it?”
“Soon eight.”
“Since we're not getting any shut-eye tonight, let's watch a movie or... do you have something else in mind?”
Cas seemed thoughtful for a second. “I've been thinking. We should maybe do something that really brings couples together. Just to solidify this... husband bond so that the Manananggal really picks our house tonight.”
Dean's mind flashed to them in bed, legs tangled together, Cas' arm draped over him. “Uh, sure.”
Cas walked over to a cupboard and picked up a Wilmert-bag. He opened it and brought out a square-shaped box.
Looking at the box, Dean huffed out a small laugh. “You want us to play Scrabble?”
“It's a fine game, Dean. Competitive, hones your word-skills and we get the satisfaction of doing something together.”
Dean grabbed a rag and wiped down the kitchen table. “When we agreed to do this whole fake-marriage thing I should have specified what stage of marriage. I had in mind more newlyweds and less old retired couple-vibe. But hey, we are doing something together so that's always something.”
After too many games to count, Dean finally glanced at the clock. “It's way past midnight. Let's go.”
They both left the game standing and walked upstairs to the bedroom.
Cas picked up his phone, his fingers flashing as he typed a message. “There, message to Sam is sent.”
Dean checked his gun and grabbed the tiny bag he'd prepared earlier. “Man, all the sneaking will be ruined by this stupid bag. She will smell us a mile away.”
“It's one of the few things that can hurt it according to lore and if your plan works, she won't be near us anyway.”
“I know but still. It's a ton of garlic.” Dean grabbed the spare covers, pillows, and blankets they had and bulked up their bed. Then he pulled the covers over it. Finally, he put a detached mop head on the pillow.
“What's that supposed to be?”
Dean smacked his tongue. “Hair, Cas. And in the dark, she won't see that it's grayish.”
Cas walked around the bed, surveying Dean's work. “What about my hair?”
“You don't need hair. Your head is under the covers.”
“Really? That's a strange sleeping position.”
“Yeah, you always had weird sleeping habits. Thankfully, Mr. Krushnic loves you anyway.” Dean froze and glanced at Cas.
Cas walked up to Dean slowly. “He does?”
“Yeah...” Dean's voice was hoarse.
“That's good to know.” Cas looked intently at Dean, as if he waited for something more to be spoken. Finally, he spoke, his voice cautious. “Any specific reasons why?”
If silence could thunder, Dean's mind would be a freaking storm. After what seemed to be way too long, Dean found his ability to speak again. “Uh... I mean you're an awesome person, Cas. Strong, loyal – I don't know how many times you've stood by me, even when you shouldn't. You're smart as hell, smarter than Sam and that says a lot – that guy was basically born with a book in his hands. You're... I mean Dean Krushnic would say that you're easy on the eye. From a purely neutral standpoint.”
Cas smiled faintly but there was an odd fire there. “I see.” He reached up and touched Dean's cheek.
Dean was sure he would spontaneously combust, right on the spot. “Yeah,” he managed to rasp out.
“Dean Krushnic seems like a catch. I'm curious about another man though.”
A faint but sudden burst of jealousy coursed through Dean. He tried to relax his face, as not to frown. “Who?”
“What does Dean Winchester think about me? Does his sentiment echo Dean Krushnic's?” Cas dropped his hand but his gaze commanded attention. “Do you... love me, Dean?”
Dean had no idea how this had happened. He tried to recall how they ended up with Cas asking Dean, not the fake Dean, but the real bacon-loving, beer-drinking, song-singing Dean– and came up blank. But he knew by all that he held holy that he did love Cas.
“I – “
Suddenly Cas moved away from Dean and ran to the window.
Dean was confused for a brief moment before realizing what was happening. He grabbed his night-vision binoculars and ran to the opposite side of the window. “Where?”
Cas pointed to a window on the first floor, in the house across the street. “There, by the kitchen.”
A small movement flashed in the room before it was gone. It didn't have to mean anything; a lot of people were up after midnight but Dean was sure that Chiyoh was not like other people. He was sure she was not people at all.
Dean squeezed his googles and let his gaze go to the left. There, behind another car, he saw the Impala. Sam would go in as soon as she left the house. Two huge trees grew nearby and together with the darkness of the night that would provide enough cover.
Cas opened the window slowly. The cool night-air drifted inside. It smelled faintly of the neighbor's roses and with it came the sound of insects and night birds. It was not the normal cacophony of sound though but more subdued as if even nature itself held its breath.
The front door to Chiyoh's house opened and she flew outside. The lower half of her body was gone and dark, leathery wings had sprouted from her back, She flapped them and hovered for a few seconds on the porch, before flying across the street.
Dean shook his head. “Look at her, so confident. She isn't even in a hurry. Didn't lock the door. Well, your day nap will be longer than usual.”
Cas was silent.
“It'll be longer cause she'll... she'll be dead, Cas.”
“I figured that, Dean. If it was a joke, the very act of explaining it defeats its purpose.”
Dean grumbled. “Maybe you should've laughed then. Whatever. Sam would've found it funny.”
They could hear a tiny rattle coming from downstairs and soon the tell-tale sound of a door slowly being opened came to them. It was showtime.
They jumped out of the window and landed with a soft thud on the grass.
Sam was already skulking around the trees, seeking the darkest shadows.
Dean and Cas sprinted across the street and sneaked inside.
“Alright, let's stick to the plan. Me and Cas will take the downstairs, Sam, you take the upstairs. “Time to find some legs.”
“You got some garlic and salt,” Sam wondered.
“Yep, we're good to go. Let's hurry. I don't think the makeshift pillow bodies will work for long.”
Sam arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He quickly ascended the stairs.
Dean was not sure if the salt would work on the Manananggal's own home but he quickly sprinkled salt on all the window sills and the front and back door, just in case. “Gotta tell you, she sure lives dangerously. Why would she go hunting just a few hours before sunrise?”
“Maybe it's complacency. Encounters with hunters being rare? I'll start in the back. There are only so many places were you can hide legs.”
Dean made a face. “Tell me about it.” He opened the restroom and pulled back the shower curtains but found it empty. Next, he rummaged through some closets in the hallway but found nothing. He could feel the seconds ticking away. Any moment now she'd be flying back in a flurry of rage.
“Kitchen is clean,” Cas shouted.
“Son of a bitch, where are you? Sam, anything?!” Dean cried.
Cas was checking the living room and Dean wanted to laugh. It was not like the legs were just chilling on the couch.
Sam came running down the stairs. “Nothing, I didn't find anything.”
“Well, search again!”
The door busted open, pieces of wood flying everywhere and there Chiyoh was. Her wings flapped furiously, but oddly enough it sounded like it came from far away. Blood dripped from her hanging entrails. She tried to cross the threshold and Dean held his breath.
When she shrieked in frustration, Dean exhaled. The salt line held for now but he couldn't count on his luck to last. Experience had taught him it could always get worse.
Chiyoh glared at him and beat her wings, disappearing from sight.
Dean realized she was in the back yard when she beat on the door, her claws scraping against glass.
The legs had to be in the house! Dean went back to the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over the floor and desk spaces, but nothing. Then he saw it. A thin, rectangular outline right on the wall behind the door to a storage room.
He shut the door to the storage room and opened the thin door. Bingo.
The bottom half of Chiyoh sat there, bloody and gory. “Found her!” Dean shouted. Fucking gross, this was worse than witches and the bloody rags of skin the shapeshifters left behind. Dean pulled up his bag, hesitating.
Sam was behind him. “Dean, what are you waiting for? Do it!”
Dean dropped a piece of garlic on the legs but Sam objected.
“You have to smoother the legs, rub it in! Hurry!”
Dean grimaced but grabbed a fistful of garlic and rubbed it all over the legs. He carefully avoided the bloody top parts. When he was done, he sprinkled it with salt for good measure.
Outside the house, an unholy sound escaped the manananggal's throat.
Dean and Sam ran out of the kitchen and into the living room just in time to see the first sunlight touch the world.
Chiyoh turned, her huge, leathery wings beating as she tried to escape but as the sun washed over her, they stopped beating. She screamed and hissed. “No!” It was a last protest, shouted in disbelief – garbled and wrong – nothing a human voice could produce.
She fell down with a thud, unmoving.
“It – I think it worked. She's dead.” Sam exhaled in relief.
“Let's just wait a few more minutes. I want her dead dead.”
Cas came to him. “I think Sam is right, she's dead, Dean. And we need to go. Neighbors are waking up and they'll have questions soon. Questions we can't answer.”
“Alright. Me and Cas gonna' head back to the house and grab our stuff. Sam, you wait in the car. Don't you dare sit in the driver seat.”
They were driving out of Okay seven minutes later, Dean's foot heavy on the gas pedal.
They talked about the hunt, Sam's sleuthing, what they had done during their hours separated. Dean didn't tell Sam anything about the more domestic things he and Cas had done while doing the whole fake marriage but Sam made small jokes here and there. Dean let him have it.
One hour into the drive home, Sam was knocked out. Dean had counted on it. Sure, they were used to little to no sleep but when they were safe and opportunity arose, Sam always took a chance to nap.
Silence reigned for a few minutes until Dean thought it was unbearable. Yet he remained silent.
The thought of knowing was worse. No, that was a lie. He wanted to know but he wanted it to be the right answer, the good kind of answer.
The answer he hoped for.
Dean gritted his teeth. Better live in uncertainty than know the truth and be forever disappointed and heartbroken.
Cas cleared his throat. “You never answered my question.”
Dean's mouth turned drier than the Sahara desert. “There's been a lot of questions during these couple of days, Cas. Yes, I like cheese. Nope, I don't take too long showers. And I guess, fine, bell peppers are OK on tacos.”
Cas' gaze hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes were serious – it was the look of an angel that had been the leader of a garrison, commanding, and present – but Dean also detected a hint of sadness there.
His heart plummeted down into his stomach.
“That wasn't the question I was referring to. I was talking about – “
“I know which question you're talking about Cas...” Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter. Just fucking say it. It's just three goddamn letters. Just say it. Y-E-S. Yankee, echo, sierra. Yes, yes. Yes!
It came out much more quiet from Dean's lips than the bombastic declaration it had been in his mind. “Yes.”
Cas stilled.
Dean could feel it. Like a shift in the air, an aura of something that pushed against him, a heaviness that wrapped around him. Maybe he was having a heart attack.
“D-dean?” Cas sounded uncertain and hopeful.
It wrecked Dean. Not the hopefulness, never that but that Cas felt uncertain and hesitant. And that he was the cause of it. He never wanted Cas to doubt his feelings for him again.
Dean cleared his throat again, his eyes flitting to Cas for a second before he decided that his best option was to have them steady on the road. “Look, Cas... shit's complicated, our lives are complicated. Monster hunts and apocalypses every other week. And if it ain't that, then it's freaking God going all SuperSaiyan on us. Billie is hiding Jack somewhere so he can achieve his Jedi-status and everything just keeps piling up on us.”
Dean licked his lips and dared to look at Cas.
He was looking at Dean intently, waiting for him to be finished.
“And you were gone, after Mary and Jack.. I was a fucking douche for saying those things but I said them. And you came back. You always come back. And now this case, and the whole fake marriage thing, I just – Look I don't wanna marry you, Cas.”
Cas narrowed his eyes. “You're... confusing.”
Dean shook his head. “You still have that mixtape, Cas?”
“Of course. I... listen to it regularly. It means a lot to me.”
“I'm not good with words, always been a doer but even that doesn't seem to mean much when all that I try to do turns to dust. But this case, you and me 'playing house' as Sam called it... I saw a glimpse of what I could have. With you. And I'm tired, Cas. So fucking tired. So yeah.” He paused. “I love you. Have for a long time.”
He felt Cas' eyes on him like a fire, burning heat enveloping him. He was afraid to turn and look at Cas, afraid that he'd misread the whole situation, that everything had just been an act to catch Chiyoh. He was so fucking tired of being afraid but here he was nonetheless, fucking drowning in the emotion.
Dean grabbed the steering wheel tighter, bracing for rejection.
“Dean.”
A gentle touch on his arm brought him back from his dark musings. “Dean?”
Finally, Dean dared to look at Cas.
Cas was glowing. It had nothing to do with his grace or with him being an angel. The sun played no part in it, even though the rays that danced across his face as they continued their drove home painted a gorgeous picture.
No, Cas' eyes shone. The soft lines around the corner of his eyes deepened as a breathtaking smile overtook him. “I love you too, Dean.”
“You do...?” Dean had a hard time processing what had just happened, so he nodded sheepishly and looked back at the road. “That's... wow... You love me.” Dean blinked but nonetheless tears formed, threatening to spill over. “You love me.”
“Are you alright, Dean? Baby is all over the place.”
Dean blinked again; a tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. “Baby is exactly where I want her to be.” He looked at Cas again. He looked the same but something was different. He seemed at peace. What a cliche sentiment that was but it didn't make it any less true.
Holy shit. Cas loved him back. Was it possible to pass out and be conscious at the same time?
“Dean?”
Dean grabbed Cas' hand, his heart hammering in his chest the whole time. He imagined Cas' flinching, yanking his hand away, laughing and declaring it all to be some huge, awful, joke.
Normally, Dean was totally against driving Baby with only one hand. She was a beauty and deserved a two-hand grip on the steering wheel but these were hardly normal times.
“I'm good, Cas. I'm good.”
Cas' voice was deep, dark, and content. “Good. That's all I ever wanted for you. To be good. Happy.” He squeezed Dean's hand once.
Dean exhaled and couldn't stop his smile from breaking out. “I'm happy, Cas. No question about it.”
“When are we gonna tell Sam and Jack?”
Dean barely heard the question, still marveling at the sensation of Cas' heavy hand in his. “Um, soon. In the Bunker. You and me are gonna have some alone time first.” His cheeks turned red. Christ, he was giddy as a teenager again.
The landscape flew past them – occasional trees, neighborhoods, other cars. Even a Prius. It was all very mundane, just another drive home from a successful hunt. It was all the same, yet suddenly it struck Dean, the beauty of it all. Chuck was a fucking douche that needed to be stopped, monsters lurked and there was evil in the world.
But the world had two badass hunters, one kickass, angel and one juiced-up Nephilim kid. The world would be fine
Everything would be fine.
“Alone time?”
“Yeah, alone time. Just you and me, no prying eyes. You know how many times I've dreamt of kissing you? A kazillion times, Cas.”
Cas nodded, that content glow still present. “A kazillion is a significantly high number.”
“Yeah.”
“To the Bunker, then.”
Dean shook his head in amazement. “To the Bunker, Cas.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24487438
Sans (Shade): An area man, in charge of the four timeline sectors and the duals as the Right arm for the Original sector under Queen Toriel. He micromanages and dabbles in everyone’s business, in charge of all deals and some speculate the true Don. His nickname isn’t one he uses himself and was given as a mocking compliment on how expertly shady he is. Much like Rabid he cannot allow himself to make friends and has even distanced himself from his brother, as if to stop the skeleton from knowing what he’s done and will do. Though he thinks much of what he does is hidden, he doesn’t know Sweets knows all it but lets him think otherwise. Though all eight know him, and Sweets is his brother, he is rarely seen interacting unless it’s for business and where he goes when not on business is anybody’s guess.
Papyrus (Sweets): Enforcer, he works directly with Sans to make sure everything is done properly and that everyone is working properly. Contrary to his relatively benign demeanor, he is second in strength only to his brother, and has no trouble ensuring people follow orders. His nickname comes directly from the fact that his job is the opposite. Contrary to what most people think, Sweets chose his job. He likes sparring, and he likes making sure things get done right and the best way to ensure that is to do it himself. It’s an added bonus of protecting and helping take some weight of Shade. He gets along well with Slugger as he never underestimates him, and often backs him up. He wishes Slugger could teach his brother how to relax.
Relationship: A little strained, both tend to keep things from each other in an effort to keep the other “happy” and “not worry them” and it means there is a bit of tip-toeing. Add Shade’s constant deference to Sweets in place of apologies or explanations and it makes for a slightly awkward atmosphere. Regardless, the brothers are extremely loyal to each other.
Fell
Sans (Slugger): Mafioso, he has no special duties and prefers it that way. Works directly under Papyrus. No one is sure what he actually does aside from piss Cap off but if there’s a brawl, he’s in it. It’s said he only joined because his brother did, and wherever Cap is, Slugger isn’t far behind. His nickname comes from the fact that his favorite form of attack of magic filled punches capable of going through solid concrete. If this skeleton says he’s going to knock your head clean off, he means it. He and Sweets like to rib each other because they both do essentially the same job, watching out for their brother at all costs. The fact that Sweets is even in the position he’s in aggravates Slugger and it’s a point of contention between him and Shade. He’s probably the most easy-going of all eight skeletons because he could give a fuck less what is going on. So long as he and his brother (and Sweets) aren’t dead, he couldn’t care less.
Papyrus (Cap): Cappo, in charge of the soldiers of Fell/Fellswap district, including Undyne. His attacks may not be the strongest but with a near unfathomable amount of magic reserves and the brains to back it up, it doesn’t matter. If he can’t be the boss of the whole Mafia then he settles for controlling all the puppets below him. His nickname comes from his job title, and he gave it to himself. Likely the most aggressive of the group, whether passive or outright. He is protective to a fault and does whatever he deems necessary to protect the family and keep his puppets (as he calls them) in line. He thinks highly of Vice for his intelligence and if pressed would admit they are friends.
Relationship: With their common placed fights, it would be easy to write them off as despising each other but it could not be farther from the truth. Their working relationship is flawless and their personal relationship might be filled with thinly veiled insults (okay, outright insults) but their care is obvious when you take in the fact that Cap heals no one but Slugger after a fight and Slugger is never far from where Cap is.
Swap
Sans (Scratch): Earner, no one is entirely sure what he does, but he has his hands in a bit of everything and ensures the family wants for nothing. If there’s a way to make money, he’s already doing it. In charge of not only getting funds and supplies but washing things if need be. He’s rarely seen except for meetings and works very closely with Shade. His nickname is slang for money, a name he took from the kids. Something of an accountant as well, he keeps the books for the Mafia and is by far the most well-known face in and out of it. He has a knack for reading people and seems to have an abundance of “friends”. Him and Sweets do not get along well because where Sweets friendliness is genuine, Scratch will throw you under a bus he made and drove.
Papyrus (Vice): Chief corrupter, in charge of bribes and all manner of intel. There’s nothing he doesn’t know, and if he doesn’t know then it isn’t true. Vice got his nickname as he uses everyone’s vices to get them to comply. He works closely with Solon and the twos squabbles are legendary. Friends with Cap, he often gives the other skeleton much needed intel for any work he does and Cap is known to accompany Vice on bribe deals in case they go south. Neither friendly nor unfriendly, the skeleton is fairly go with the flow, if the flow was always directed by him—and it usually is.
Relationship: Scratch will screw over anyone for his brother, including the Mafia if he had to, he tends to baby his brother and Vice lets him rather than deal with most people outside of his work. They are fairly co-dependent and probably the closest of any of the brothers given that there are no secrets between them and neither can do any wrong in the others eyes.
Fellswap
Sans (Solon): Consigliere, in charge of internal disputes and legal counsel. He works closest with Vice and Toriel, if he says something needs to be done then it needs to be done. Not many outside the eight know who he is, he is more well-known by his day job as a criminal defensive attorney. Rabid gave him his nickname and he wears it with pride, it means a wise and skillful lawyer. Worries for his brother a lot and struggles to find balance between taking care of his mess of a brother and the mess of a Mafia (along with all the idiots in it). Him and Toriel are particularly close and tend to have weekly bitch-fests about the state of the Mafia and those in it. Weirdly enough is probably the most well-adjusted of the skeletons.
Papyrus (Rabid): Headhunter, both external and internal. Nicknamed after his appearance and methods, you normally only meet Rabid once and that’s more than enough. He’s always done what it takes to protect his brother and joined to make sure Solon stayed the consigliere for as long as he wants. Though he is the whole family’s headhunter, he only takes orders from Solon. Probably the most isolated of any of the skeletons, he doesn’t trust anyone but his brother but that isn’t why he has no friends. The family knows he could be called on them for any fuck up, and he knows the same so as such he has no desire to make friends with a target. The only person he might be considered friends with is Shade if only because the two skeletons acknowledge they are start and finish point of all work in the Mafia and that neither can play nice for safety reasons. That and their over-protectiveness towards their brother. Its said the only other person Rabid carries out hits for is Shade, and only when it directly protects Sweets, not because he cares about Sweets but because he understand Shades concern.
Relationship: In the Underground Rabid knew that being the stronger of the two, showing deference would keep everyone out of Solons way. It’s a habit that has carried over. His fear of losing his brother makes him clingy and his brothers ability to accept and move forward is a point of contention with them. Solon is torn between trying to help his brother and coddling him in his own way. Though they seem fine on the surface there is a strong undercurrent of tension.
If you made it through the rambling heres a link to the fic!
(The last part in the #SpnStayAtHome challenge. A huge thank you to @helianthus21 @pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me for putting together this challenge. It’s been such fun! I chose to write based on a prompt I saw in a Facebook group.
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The day was slowly turning into night but it was not yet pitch black, more of a deep dark gray. It suited Dean Winchester just fine. The day had been hot and he welcomed the chill air that caressed his cheek.
He could see the lanterns being lit, vibrant bright beacons that surrounded the castle of OakSpear. He always thought it was a stupid name. The last oak had been cut down centuries ago when the kingdom needed them to build ships to fight a neighboring kingdom and the now ruling family had renamed the castle Oakspear in remembrance.
Oakspear. He'd like to see someone come at him with a damn oak spear. He'd use his blade and cut the spear into toothpicks. Dean turned serious. This was just a quick in and out – an unbidden smile came to him then – and no one was supposed to get hurt. Not a lot at least. If he saw Crowley, Master of the Royal King's Guard though, he'd happily make an exception.
Dean was up to the castle wall. Stones that were huge and smooth to the touch, seemingly impenetrable greeted him. They were silent and guarded their secrets. Luckily for Dean, he knew of living creatures, with soft flesh and hot blood who didn't keep their knowledge hidden.
Being the most revered or feared person (depending on who you asked) in the kingdom, came with certain responsibilities and Dean “The Michael Sword” Winchester was not one to disappoint.
When he came to the Oakfork – a small mound of rocks among some bushes – he turned right and counted twenty steps, carefully. Each step was heel against toe until he stopped, facing the castle walls again. To the untrained eye, this expanse of smooth stone looked the same as any other but Dean knew that looks could be deceiving. Standing on his toes, he pressed on a point and a section of the stone wall slowly opened up.
Again he smiled to himself, memories stirring his blood to life. He needed to stop and focus on the task at hand.
Kings and their fear of being kidnapped or attacked. Stupid. Dean walked inside and pressed a point on more coarse rock. The hidden door closed.
Dean knew the way and how the underground tunnel twisted and turned by heart. His night vision was still preserved so he ran. Soon, he came to the exit.
It was nighttime and the chamber pots weren't really needed to the same extent, but Dean nonetheless pressed his ear to the door. To be careful was a wise choice. Castles never slept. He shut down the voice that insisted that what he was about to do wasn't wise.
He couldn't hear anything.
Slowly, he pushed the door open – this one so small that he had to bend himself in half – and stepped outside.
Ahh, the castle of Oakspear. Even the chamber pots were pristine.
Dean carefully took a step over some pots laying in a stacked pile on the floor and opened that door too. The storage for the chamber pots was at the far end from where the royal rooms where.
Dean sneaked out on soft leather boots and entered a hallway. Here and there lanterns glowed, the light shining on the stone walls but no guards were there. Not that Dean had expected any. Chamber pots were not treasured by the king.
As he walked further into the heart of the castle, it slowly came to life. He could hear the soft murmurs of servants going about their business even at these hours. He clutched his side, where his knife was hidden. The Michael Sword he'd decided to leave behind, but if anyone thought that he'd be less dangerous with a knife, they were fools.
Enough with the tiptoeing. Time to spring the plan into action. Not that Dean really had a plan. He had a semblance of things he knew about Oakspear, guard routines, where most of the exits were. Where the royal jewelry was stashed. He banished all the images that suddenly flooded his mind.
Maybe he should have stopped at the second ale, but the third was blessed the saying went.
Boots on stone alerted him to a group of guards close by, and by the sound of it they were coming his way. Dean's heart sped up. It wasn't fear, just exhilaration that called his body into action. There was a door further ahead, but he wasn't sure where it would lead. If someone was behind it, they were most likely sleeping but if not, their screams would alert the guards.
Dean looked up and saw a wooden support beam. He squinted. It was possible. Sure, he had some alcohol in his blood but his reflexes were legendary. Villagers still talked about him and that cock. The bird kind.
Taking a step back, Dean ran as fast as he could and took a leg to the wall, pressing himself upwards. Be a cock. Fly! He remembered that cocks didn't really fly but his fingers gripped tightly around wood anyway. He hoisted himself up and perched from his position, looking at the guards that walked right beneath him.
The lanterns chased some of the darkness away but not often did people think to look up. Dean pressed himself to the roof and watched as the guards walked past him none the wiser. He counted to five and jumped down again.
Two turns later and barely avoiding a stray guard running – probably to take a piss – Dean was almost to the royal sleeping quarters. He turned a corner and ran straight into Crowley.
Crowley's eyes widened briefly but Dean was faster. He tightened his fist and planted it squarely on that pompous face of Crowley.
Crowley covered his face for a split second, before looking at Dean with hatred in his eyes. “I know you! You won't escape, Dean Winchester!” Crowley swung at him.
Dean ducked with ease. “I'm surprised you do. The picture on the wanted posters doesn't look anything like me. But nothing could do this pretty face justice. But no need for the 'Winchester', I thought you and me were closer than that. Remember that night in Edmond – “
Crowley screamed and lunged at him.
Apparently Crowley didn't want to remember.
Dean grimaced as his head hit the ground, the thud reverberating through his teeth but was soon accompanied by a sickening crack.
“You'll rot in a dungeon.” Crowley throw away the candelabra and grabbed Dean by his tunic.
Blood ran down into Dean's left eye, obscuring his vision. He could feel the pointy end of a blade pressing into his back.
“If you just let me grab my sword again, we can cross them.”
“I swear by all that's holy, if you don't shut your mouth right now, I'll gut you.”
That was the thing with Kingsguards. They got fat and complacent. Much like the house cats who were content to drink milk and take whatever scraps their masters gave them, ultimately forgetting that they had claws.
Crowley pushed Dean forward, his sword at the ready.
Dean grunted, but didn't turn around to punch him as he wanted to. Instead, he walked slowly, hunched. The model prisoner. When he saw that Crowley was ushering him along to that room, he bent his head down, a smile on his lips.
Crowley knocked once, and pushed Dean inside the dark wooden doors, inlaid with marble and gems. Dean contemplated stealing the door, or at least the handle which was solid gold just to piss off the king but decided against it.
The king was sleeping but stirred in his bed. So did one of his loyal soldiers who was leaning against the wall, one that Dean knew the face of very well. Hannah.
Great.
Hannah's eyes widened momentarily before he pulled his sword and the king followed suit.
“This piece of vermin was skulking around in the castle, your Highness. Permission to take his life right now?” Crowley pushed Dean against a wall. “Where's your Michael Sword now, you scoundrel?”
Dean barely focused on Crowley; his eyes were on the Royal Highness, Castiel Angelus, Oakspear's pride and joy, the most exalted One. He probably had more names that were too ridiculous to remember. Dean would have to ask him.
The king of course drew his sword.
Hannah looked at the king and followed suit, standing next to him.
Castiel's eyes were narrowed, shining brightly with anger. He pointed the sword under Dean's chin, forcing his eyes up.
Dean couldn't help it, he licked his lips and smiled lasciviously. “A game is it?” He winked once and saw Hannah blink in confusion.
Slowly, Dean kneeled in front of Castiel, lowering his hands to his sides. He wanted to bend his neck too, but sadly the sharp tip on his throat – that had followed him down as his knees sank to the floor – prevented such wishes. He could still blink with his left eye but the blood caused it to burn. It was just a mild discomfort though. A zit on his ass was worse.
Crowley's raspy voice was laced with confusion. “Your Highness?”
Castiel shook his head. “Stand down, Crowley. We need to gather information. If this is indeed Dean Winchester – “
“I told you that picture of me sucked, Crowle – “
Crowley kicked him in the stomach with a heavy foot.
Dean bent down slightly, air leaving his lungs. The sword grazed his throat but it was just a caress, a pleasurable, painful zing.
“Crowley, I told you to stand down!”
Coughing, Dean gazed up to look at Castiel. Wasn't this a sight? His blood stirred again but Dean fixed his gaze on those eyes. A witch must have truly cursed Castiel as a child. There was no other way for any human to gain that color.
Dean ignored the hideous nightgown Castiel was wearing. It was a silky affair with golden wings embroidered all over. Why would one want to cover one's body with that monstrosity when you could sleep in the nude? He shook his head in dismay.
“What are you doing here...thief!”
Dean licked his lips. “Love when you talk dirty to me... your Highness.” He glanced over at Crowley who was fuming; his hand still gripped the hilt tightly. “Just taking a stroll. Do you mind?” He raised his hand and touched the blade, arching a brow.
Slowly Castiel lowered his sword.
“Your Highness, I wouldn't do that if I were you. He's the kingdom's most wanted – “
Dean ducked down and rolled away from the sword. He threw himself at Crowley's feet and pulled them toward himself, and as Crowley fell, he planted a fist straight in his smug face. “This is a different kiss than you'd like from me but I'm sure you won't mind.” The crunch as Crowley's nose broke and blood squirted was very satisfying. He rapidly punched him three more times, using all his force.
Blood splattered on his face, but Dean had already been bloodied. Some more didn't really make much more difference.
Crowley raised his head feebly before dropping it to the floor, passing out.
Dean cracked his knuckles. “That was for the fucking awful drawings of me.” He looked at Castiel, as he wiped the blood away from his face. “No wonder your soldiers never catch me.”
“Dean, have you lost your cursed mind? How am I going to explain this to Crowley when he wakes up?” Castiel glanced at his Master Kingsguard. “If he wakes up.”
“He'll wake.” Dean shook his head. “You need to train your guards better, Cas. What if some crazed killer is out to catch you?” He almost spat in disgust. “It'll be child's play.”
“It's Castiel.”
Dean nodded, a smile on his face. “Of course.” He put a fist to his chest and bowed. “Your Big Headedness. I know this isn't your favored version of crossing swords. I apologize.”
Hannah's eyes bulged at the insult and he took a step forward but Castiel waved at him to stop.
Anger made Castiel's eyes glow. He grabbed Dean and hauled him up. “If they catch you, they'll kill you!”
Dean licked some of the blood from his fingers. “Are you gonna turn me in?” The ensuing fight had upset his stomach, and Dean let out a burp.
“Are you intoxicated?!”
Dean scoffed. “I've had three or so ale. Hardly intoxicated, Cas. But I'm here on a mission.” He glanced over at Hannah, who was still aiming his sword at Dean, although he looked like he was thinking of dropping it.
“What kind of mission could you be on?” Castiel wondered out loud.
“The mission to preserve my reputation.” He kept silent about the second part of his mission.
Castiel stepped away from Crowley and put away his sword before he went over to a dresser. “I think that's a lost cause, you preserving your reputation.” He draped a blue silk robe, embroidered with fish of all things over his nightgown, and tied it off with a sash.
Dean got up on two feet and walked up to Castiel. He noted that Hannah followed his every move. “Relax, Hannah.”
“Your Highness... should I alert someone?”
Castiel shook his head. “It's fine. Just proceed with protocol as usual, Hannah.”
Dean smirked. “You heard him, handsome. Proceed as usual.”
Hannah frowned but dropped his sword and finally sheathed it. He relaxed his posture but Dean could still feel his eyes on him.
He turned and walked over to Hannah. “You've done good, kid.” He patted Hannah on the back.
“I'm hardly a kid – “
“Enough!” Castiel's voice cut through the air. “It's not even – Dean. Why are you here, in the middle of the night – ?”
Dean lowered his voice. “Is that any more different than the other times I've been here? You never complained then. On the contrary, you wanted more and more and – “
Hannah cleared his throat.
Dean rolled his eyes. “For being the lookout, you don't get to play a prude now, Hannah.”
“Dean.”
Dean could hear Castiel's patience was wearing thin. He was always so... demanding. Dean liked it. “You always wanted adventure right? Bored of court politics? A way to escape from Crowley and Naomi? Well, I'm giving it to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Hannah looked as puzzled.
Dean admired loyalty to a point. Hannah was loyal, clever, and sure, he followed orders but he had been known to question some of Cas' decisions now and then. The confidence to defy the king came not from pride or avarice but from years of friendship and camaraderie, love even. And Hannah's face was not ugly, so that was another reason for admiration.
“Cas, Hannah is pretty, I'll give you that. But wouldn't you say a scar... would make his already pretty face more appealing?” The corners of his mouth turned into a smirk.
Dean jumped on Hannah, and hit him square in the face. Hannah hit the floor like a drunkard on midsummer's Eve.
Castiel whirled around, his robe fanning out behind him dramatically.
“Dean, what are you doing?”
Dean pulled his knife and yanked Castiel close to him, the sharp edge of the knife pointing at that vital blood vessel near the throat. “We need to take a stroll, you and me, Cas.”
Betrayal flashed over Castiel's face and he set his mouth into a grim line. “I thought we had something. That we were something.”
An ache bloomed in Dean's chest but he shoved it down. “We do, Cas, we do. All those things I said to you... they're still true. I'm just borrowing you for a while.”
“Against my will!” Castiel hissed. “That's not borrowing. That's kidnapping!”
Dean pulled Castiel's body to his and if circumstances were different it could have been exciting. “I'll give you back. We'll come back.” He waited until the guards had made their next round passing the royal chambers before urging Castiel along. “Let's go.”
The corridor was now empty and Dean pushed at Castiel, urging him to hurry. “I don't know what's with the face and narrowed eyes. I thought you hated the pompous royal court and all the trivial matters you have to attend. Didn't you talk about adventures and going out to see the world?”
“Dean, if any of my guards find you, you'll be executed on the spot. I'd be powerless to stop you.”
“Cas, it's almost like we're more than lovers. I'm flattered.”
“Drop the charade, Dean. I've known you for a long time. I care about you. Gods, I love you. I know you haven't told me you love me back but all those evenings and nights we've spent together... I know they must have meant something to you. Don't lie to me. Not more than you have tonight.”
Dean swallowed. Damn, Cas and his honeyed tongue. He almost relented when he remembered the very reason he was doing this. He hardened his voice. “You're a good lay. That is all.”
Castiel's face turned blank and he didn't say anything else.
The rest of the walk to the storage with the chamber pots was uneventful. Dean felt the heavy silence build with each step until it was crushing him. “Bend down so you don't hit your head, Cas.”
“We wouldn't want that now, would we? What would you do if I fought you?”
Dean sighed. “You are royalty, and while I don't doubt your strength, Cas, the Michael Sword has no reason to hold back if you start trouble. The rumors about me are all true.” He shrugged. “Well, most of them anyway, some are pure fabrication, but do you really wanna take that chance?”
“If you have troubles with a gang of thugs or ruffians, I can help. My coffins are endless.”
Dean smiled in the darkness as they walked to the edge of the castle walls. Just a few more steps and then freedom awaited. For one of them. “It's not about gold, Cas.”
“You almost sound offended.”
“I don't fuck you for money, Cas.”
Castiel scoffed. “I didn't suggest that either. But if you – if there's some debt to be paid, I could do that. I could help you.”
“We are just going to be gone a while and then I'll bring you back. I don't need your help.”
The darkness finally covered the landscape and while it would be to their advantage, Crowley and Hannah could wake at any moment. Dean pulled out his sword and hid the knife away.
Castiel sighed but didn't say anything; he just followed along as Dean guided him with a hand on his shoulder. They would soon come to a small clearing where he hid two horses and then they'd leave Oakspear.
After a few minutes of walking, Dean pulled Castiel to a stop. “Do you have to step on every fucking branch and twig from here to Lawreen?”
“I've been kidnapped. It's in my interest to be found and leave traces behind me.”
Dean smiled in the darkness. “You give Crowley and his gang of cretins too much credit. But good thinking.”
“But you'll still knock me out if I try to run.”
“Don't run, Cas. I swear, I will not hurt you and I will return you when we're done.”
Castiel was silent for a while, walking where Dean's sword led them. The silence lay heavy over them and Dean should've been grateful. He was borrowing the king of Oakspear after all and he wanted as little disturbance as possible. But the other silence was oppressive, the one that spoke of betrayal and hurt and it pressed heavily on him.
Usually, Dean wouldn't be bothered, but this was Cas.
He could see the shadowy outline of the horses. He'd tied them around a cluster of birch trees. The trees dotted the area, providing some shade on hot summer days, but they were no oaks.
The horses – one black, the other one a soft beige – whinnied when Dean approached them.
He stroked the black horse gently, reassuring her. “We'll be on our way soon, Tantrum. Venison will rest.”
Castiel finally spoke up, disbelief in his voice.“You named your horses Tantrum and Venison?”
Dean shrugged. “Tantrum was feisty when I got her and Venison... A poacher stole my venison so I stole his horse.”
Cas huffed in disbelief. “You don't have venison, because you don't own any forests, Dean.”
“I was in a forest. And might be that I was hunting for venison when this man came and claimed what was mine. Get up. And no sudden movements, she'll bite you.”
“So you were poaching yourself and got mad that another poacher stole “your venison”.
Dean pushed at Castiel's ass, urging him forward. His other hand gripped Tantrum's reins tightly. “Come on, stop with this molasses-slow pace. Crowley will be able to catch up.”
“I have no desire to break my neck, Dean.”
“Yeah, I have no desire for some damned butcher to hang me by the neck. See, our interests align.” Dean jumped up behind Castiel and grabbed Venison's reins. He'd tied Venison to Thunder and they were on their way.
The horses trotted along with a steady but brisk pace. Dean led them away from the main roads and into the leafy forests that grew some distance away from the castle.
He noticed that Castiel was shivering. He tried to hide it but Dean could feel the small trembles against his stomach and his arms as his body enveloped Castiel's. He realized that Castiel was still in his silk nightgown and robe. He reached back and unrolled a woolen cloak while guiding Tantrum with his knees.
Casually, he put the cloak around Castiel's shivering form.
“Thank you.”
“No bother. I was the one that dragged you out of bed. It's the least I can do.” Dean sighed quietly for himself. “Look, Cas. I'm... I'm sorry.”
“For borrowing me? Well, me too, Dean.”
Dean chuckled slightly. “Not that part.” He was sorry for other things and his mind turned to matters that were yet to come. He chastised himself. No use in thinking about tomorrow's sorrows when today was bleak enough. “I didn't mean it, alright. You're not just a lay to me, Cas. You know that.”
“I thought I did. Does this mean that you'll explain what you're doing, Dean? You have promised my safe return, so I assume you're not out to kill me?”
Anger flashed through Dean for a brief second but then he remembered that Castiel had every right to be mad or think that his life was in danger. “I'm not going to kill you.”
Castiel seemed satisfied by that.
Dean guided the horses through the thick foliage and turned south. They were once again on a path, albeit a less traveled one.
“You're going by the roads again?”
It was a small comfort that Castiel seemed so calm, that his voice still held kindness. It made it easier for Dean to pretend he hadn't kidnapped him. “Not the main one, no. This one will lead to a farm village down south and then we're going to cross into Juna.”
“Juna? That's your plan? You're going to hide the king of Oakspear in the actual realm? Not cross the border but plant us straight into a large city? You do realize that Juna is the largest city in the kingdom, that their soldiers – “
“ – are the finest ever, their armor shines in the sun, and they shit gold. Yeah, I know. I also know that Juna provides a huge bulk of the grain supply to Oakspear, that the royal palace once stood there and that supposedly magic is in the soil there. That's what the War of Nothingness was about, whether magic was real or not.”
“You did listen.”
Dean scoffed. “Not my fault that your post-fucking talk was all history, economics, and things I'm sure even Osric would be impressed you have knowledge about. And Juna may be the largest city in the kingdom, but that's where we're going anyway.”
Tantrum whinnied and Dean patted her reassuringly. “It's gonna be a long night. I won't bore you with talk any longer. You'll be fine, Cas.”
Castiel fidgeted against Dean, so Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel's waist, keeping him still. Tantrum was well-trained and could be directed just by a slight press of the knees anyway.
“Don't you think me showing up in my very regal robe will mark me as, I don't know, royalty maybe?”
Dean nodded, despite Castiel not being able to see him. “I do. But we'll take care of that before we reach Juna. Relax, Cas.”
“Relax you say. You still haven't told me why you're doing this, Dean.”
Gritting his teeth, Dean sighed. “I know you're stubborn Cas, and you'll try, that's what honor compels you to do. But I won't talk. You know what you need to know.”
“I know nothing!”
“Exactly. Now keep your damn voice down.”
To his credit, Castiel did listen. Soon the only sounds to be heard were the night birds, evening frogs, and crickets puncturing the otherwise still night with their song. Tantrum and Venison trotted along on silent hooves and even Castiel stopped talking.
A heavy weight settled against Dean's chest and he realized that Castiel had fallen asleep. He adjusted him slightly, pulled the robe around him tighter, and continued riding.
Dean Winchester – notorious thief and Castiel Angelus – king of Oakspear rode on as the darkness kept them safe.
If you wanna leave comments or just say hi the story is here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24593170
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821211
Part 6 of my ABC’s of Destiel is up. This one is short and fluffy!
Rating: GA
Summary: Dean desperately needs a shower. Hunts are messy and monster guts are messier. Cas joins him but the shower soon turns into something else, a pleasure Dean didn't know he needed.
It was just a run of the mill salt-and-burn, torching some gnarly bones but for whatever reason Dean felt the hunt to his very core.
He blinks against the light in his room; even the soft glow of the bedside table light seems too harsh coming in from the dark of the night.
Dean takes a whiff of his clothes and makes a face. Yeah, he'll need to burn these clothes. He shucks his jeans off, careful not to touch the dried crusts of monster mash and discards his shirt too. Carefully, he puts them in the corner before grabbing a plastic bag he's had forever in his drawer. He tosses the clothes in and decides to do the same with his blue tank top.
He still remembers the sensation of all that goo just... exploding on him. While most of it splashed over his legs, he's sure there's residue and he'd been itching to get clean ever since the hunt finished.
Dean shakes his head as he gets rid of his socks and underwear. The good thing about it being less monsters in the world nowadays was... that there were less monsters but Dean had almost but forgotten how dirty it could get from time to time. Dirt though, he could deal with but fluids... He shudders, that is something he's never going to get used to.
A warm arm snakes around his waist and Dean smiles. Now that is something that he still has a hard time getting used to. He's grateful as fuck, but he can still wake up from a dream, convinced that it was just that, a dream. That the bed is empty and cold, that Cas is not there. Or worse, that he is but that they're –
“You alright, Dean?” Cas' soft-spoken words are in his ear.
“Mm, I'm good. Just filthy.”
Cas burrows his nose in the nape of Dean's neck and inhales. “Mm, you really are.”
Dean escapes his arms. “Shut up, you love me dirty.”
How can Dean deny his love
when surely it's granted from above?
This mortal body filled with lust and want
Just a few days and I want my body to flaunt
Let his eyes drink in the color of my skin,
how can he not see that he's my greatest win?
My heart beats hard, so much faster
The thought gives me pleasure, of him calling me Master
This dry tongue and aching heart,
how can Dean deny love has no part?
In the way my cheeks flush when he speaks
in how his gaze above all, my face he seeks
And how my cock gets hard for no reason
To deny this body must surely be treason
How can Dean deny his love
when I confess all of the above?
Let him see my earnest plea
and turn a me and him to a we
My ears long to hear those words confessed
That would make me feel truly blessed
Make my heart soar so high
Please let all this doubt finally die
God, I know he has a skull so thick
It's hard to know what makes him tick
He is stubborn as hell
but I know he means well
A heart so kind
a brilliant mind
a soul so clear
nothing to fear
My knees are hurting, my body is stiff
Do you hear this prayer, even a whiff?
My fingers are cramping, I think I might pee
I hope with this prayer, my devotion you see
His lips are plump, delicious and sweet
His toes are alright, I'm not into feet
Hair that demands a stroke or say two
I just want to call him my precious boo
I'm sorry, this turned out very wrong
and maybe this prayer is all too long
Let me start over, yes, that I will do
Disregard that thing, let me start anewDear God!
My heart burns hot with this fever
a love that is a sharp cutting cleaver
that breaks all bonds but this one profound
it compels me to surrender and be bound
To a grace more endless and deeper than You
that flows all around and through and through
Secure in the knowledge that my heart is right
to Dean I give my all, he's the reason I fight
I long to hear the undulation of his heart
to feel his lips on me, I'd break apart
in smaller fragments for him to explore
and then we could try something more hardcore
It centers around body, this human experience
and I long to yield and show it deference
To touch Dean's skin, soft and freckled
to caress his soul, brilliantly speckled
With all that he is and more than he knows
this love as a human, it only grows
To see Dean's lips as they part in passion so deep
and kiss him wildly, cause his heart to leap
as his caress paints my body with the hottest of fire
and I give in to my deepest, most human desire
to take him with all that need and all that I can
and finally, know how it feels to love like a man
to love Dean truly and deeply just so
and then finally be able to let go
and fly on our love so clear
and truly be him nearDean's desire I can see it clearly
I now know he loves me very dearly
Dear God!
Please, throw a spear in that thick skull of his
and open his heart to a love he would miss
Make him believe the words I will say
I love him more than night and day
Now I must really urinate some more
and my knees are molded to the floor
Stomach growls, begs for food
I hope this is alright, don't mean to be rude
I really need to go, talk to you later,
my need for human necessities is greater
This has been Castiel, your angel of the Lord
Always your shield, but not your sword
If you wanna leave a comment or kudos here you go; https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903523
@emblue-sparks =)
This is my 11th piece for the Destiel fanfiction bingo. My prompt was "Mystery Monster fic" and my theme was "Suspense.
No smut, some violence, Dean being Dean. Rated: teen
”Fuck. Cas, for all I care you can make me coffee for the rest of my life. This beats any black sludge we are forced to drink at hotels and run-of-the-mill-dinners.”
Cas' lips twitched in an almost smile. ”I think I'm doing us all a favor when serving your favored morning beverage.”
Scoffing, Dean took another sip of the hot liquid. ”I'm not that bad.”
”You say that every day, Dean. Coffee is good for older people; makes them alert and it supposedly protects you from heart disease”, Jack said matter of factly. Taking another spoonful of cereals and milk he glanced over at Cas. ”We going on a hunt today?”
Biting off a piece of a Fudge Poptart Dean spoke in between chews. ”You call me old one more time and I swear, I'll let Sam in on all your sugar-high-in-the-middle-of-the-night-snacks.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, but a small smile played on his lips. ”Not if I tell him that half of the times you join in.”
Opening his mouth to reply, Dean closed it, turning to Cas. ”This is all your fault. You two feathery insomniacs are plotting against me.” Raising his cup in the air, Dean proclaimed, ”Fill me up, Cas.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17736251 if you want to read more.
