#cas as steve

[idjithntr67]

Y'all this is making me wanna cry... ma man is so proud of himself 🥹

[maggiemaybe160]

Come Into My Office

This is A Safe For Work Chapter from a Very Not Safe fic I made last month. Link to Full (explicit) Fic is Here

Sam is on his break. He goes to a quiet corner of the building like he always does on his breaks and pulls out his phone. He scrolls to his fiancée, Madison’s number and presses call. It rings four times before not Madison answers.

“Linda Marr Vet-” Sam hangs up. He shoves his phone into his pocket and pushes open the doors to the bathroom. His nose stings the way that it does when you’re about to cry, but Sam is not going to allow himself to cry.

“Her number just changed,” Sam tells himself, squeezing his eyes shut. He splashes water on his face and when that doesn’t help, he walks into a stall and leans his back against the door. He sucks air in through his nose and pinches the bridge between two fingers.

The door opens and closes. Immediately, come the sounds of two men kissing heavily. Sam’s face turns red and he can’t even see them.The sounds of heavy breathing and wet lips fill the previously silent bathroom. There’s a louder noise as one of them is shoved against a wall and then a moan that’s muffled, as if stifled by the other’s mouth.Sam hopes they pick a stall so he can leave without them noticing him.

“I only have fifteen minutes,” one voice says.

“Then, I’ll have you for fifteen minutes,” the other promises.

There’s shuffling and more very wet noises as they kiss and stumble their way to the large stall at the end. The stall door opens and shuts with a slam. Sam opens his own door quickly. A belt buckle makes a sound as it hits the tile on the floor. There’s a plastic ripping noise and the wrapper of a condom falls to the floor. Sam can’t help it, he looks at their feet under the stall with his hand on his exit.

Suddenly, recognition hits. He knows the voice of one of the men. Steve Novak works in sales. He opens the door.

“What was that?”

“I think someone just left?” Steve’s voice answers as Sam leaves.

“We can’t keep doing this,” the other man groans as the door swings shut behind Sam. Not quickly enough though, for Sam hears them resume their this.

Sam walks back to his desk quickly, trying to bleach his brain of what he just heard. He’s well aware that he’s red in the face as he sits down and types his login into his computer.

“What’s up, Sam?” Ian asks, rolling over to Sam on his chair. He has a pen in his mouth and it’s enough to make Sam blush harder. “Whoa, what’s up, buddy?”

“Nothing,” Sam knocks the pen out of Ian’s hand playfully and Ian laughs.

“Really? ‘Cause you’re as red as a fucking tomato,” Ian laughs, grabbing his pen from the floor.

“Okay, but promise not to tell anyone,” Sam says despite the voice in the back of his head that tells him that Ian is a loudmouth and he shouldn’t tell him anything.

“Cross my heart,” Ian grins.

“I was in the bathroom and two guys came in and started…” He tastefully trails off and lifts his eyebrows. “I mean, this is work!”

“You think people don’t have sex at work? People have sex at work all the time,” Ian says. “Who is it? Let’s go find out!” He starts to get out of his chair and Sam pulls him back down.

“No, you pervert!”

“It’s not perverted if I don’t care that they’re gay. I want to know about everyone,” Ian says, attempting to get up again.

“It’s perverted to want to see!” Sam hisses and pulls him back again.

“Tell me who is was,” Ian presses.

“No! Go back to work!” Sam pulls his headset on, but Ian stays next to him, running through a list of names that Sam ignores.

Sam’s eyes catch on Steve Novak as he walks through the IT department. His hair is messed up and he’s adjusting his blue tie. His cheeks are flushed and Sam knows he was right when he thought he’d heard Steve’s voice in the bathroom.

“No. Way,” Ian says, following Sam’s eyeline. “Steve from sales ?!”

“Say it louder!” Sam hisses, shoving Ian.

“I can.” Ian opened his mouth wider and Sam slaps a hand over it.

Sam watches Steve walk down the hall and away from them. He smooths his pants as he goes and catches a glance of himself in a window. He flattens down his hair and hurried down the hall again. When he’s gone, Sam takes his hand away from Ian’s mouth.

“Who was he with ?” Ian asked, looking down the hall.

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard the other guy before.” Sam shrugs. “Anyway, just forget it.”

“I can’t forget it now, Sam,” Ian whines. “I gotta know. What if it was only a one time thing? A quickie?”

“Oh, it’s not,” Sam says before he can stop himself.

“What did you hear?!” Ian scoots closer to Sam.

“Nothing,” Sam said again. We can’t keep doing this echoes in his head in the other man’s groan.

“Sam, you can’t leave me hanging. I live for this,” Ian pouts.

“I don’t know any more,” Sam says.

Ian looks down the hall where Steve disappeared and whispers, “Kinky.”

[maggiemaybe160]

Be My Superman

Birthday fic for @nickelkeep! I love you! 

thanks to @blueeyesandpie and @jemariel ​ for alpha and beta reading!

Read the full 8 chapter fic on my A03

Dean Winchester adjusts his face mask and goggles before starting to paint the hood of the stripped 1958 Chevy Impala. He had been so excited when this car had rolled into his shop’s parking lot. He was lucky enough to be asked to restore this beauty to her original glory. His own 1967 Impala is parked in his parking spot around back.

The bell in the office chimes as his customer walks in. He knows who it is, continuing on the hood to finish the first coat. He takes off his goggles and mask, grabbing his cane and walking into the office.

“Hey, Steve,” Dean greets.

“Hello, Dean,” Steve grins. He’s holding two slushies. Both are a mix of blue and red. Steve hands Dean one as they sit on the bench in the front office. “Can I see her?”

“Not yet. She’s getting her makeover right now,” Dean says before taking a sip of the frosty drink.

“Thanks again,” Steve says, blue eyes wide with sincerity, “for the discount on the paint, I mean.”

“Don’t mention it. I had it leftover from when I painted my Baby.” They’re both quiet for a moment as they drink their identical slushies.

Steve is a total dork. Cute, but completely off limits and not at all Dean’s type. He either forgets to take off his work vest, or just doesn’t care. He’s constantly wearing that royal blue polyester vest that could blind anyone if the sun hit it right. His nametag is always pinned just perfectly over his chest, declaring him “Steve.” His dark brown hair is combed, parted on the side, and gelled in place. His eyes are the most stunning part of him. They’re a gorgeous blue that shine and Dean tries not to look for too long because he’s also pretty sure Steve is straight.

“I love working on your car. I get to see the differences a decade makes in manufacturing,” Dean says. “The original has its own level of perfection. You know? I mean, we’re looking at the difference between the first generation and tail end of the fourth generation.”

Steve nods, encouraging Dean to keep talking, gushing about his trade. Dean’s passion about these cars was the sole reason Steve was even getting the car restored. He had come in asking if it was worth it to try. Dean had taken one look at the beat up car and decided that he had to restore her. That was a few months ago. Every week or so Steve would take her home and try to get enough money for the next part of the repair job. All of his savings from the Gas-n-Sip where he worked went into his car.

Seeing Steve’s dedication, and also feeling like Steve letting him restore the car was a little bit of a favor to him, Dean found every discount he could give. He had a soft spot. Steve was just so innocent and nice.

Innocent. That was the other thing that was keeping Dean from letting himself fall for this guy. He couldn’t drag such a genuine and soft soul into his life. He wasn’t always some mechanic with a bad heart and a bum leg. He wasn’t always just your neighborhood car enthusiast.

Once upon a time, Dean had been a hunter. Not a hunter of deer or bears. He never killed anything that couldn’t fight back. Never Bambi or Yogi. That would be cruel. He was raised hunting everything that went bump in the night. Every monster, ghost, and nightmare was his prey since the time he was four.

He lost his fight when he was twenty-six. He lost two fights in a row. The first was his fault. At thirty, he could admit it. He had been the only one in a position to stop the ugly thing from hurting his baby brother and the two kids. He took his shot with the taser while he was lying in a puddle and ended up supercharging his heart. He wasn’t supposed to live past a few months.

After making it out of the hospital with his fancy new portable oxygen, baby brother Sam had tried to talk Dean out of hunting again. He said it was too soon, but was a month too soon? A month had been both too soon and way too long for Dean. He had jumped back in ready to jump on the missing persons case that Sam had found. It was on that hunt that his brother was kidnapped by humans and Dean was shot on the rescue mission. He was shot three times in his left leg. Once in the knee cap and twice in his thigh.

The hospital visit for that loss was the end. It was where Sam had left him.

Dean had just gotten out of surgery, his leg immobilized, mind bleary from the medication, when Sam had told him that his fight as a hunter was over. He couldn’t keep going. Not like this. The doctors told him that he would walk again. He had to follow the physical therapy regimen. He had to take his medicine and do his exercises.

“I’ll get better then we can go back to fighting,” Dean had suggested.

“I’ll find mom’s killer. I’ll find them and kill them. I have to, Dean.” Sam had given him that look and left. He hadn’t seen him since.

He followed the orders. He stretched and pedaled on the stupid stationary bike with his nasal cannula on, filling his useless heart with oxygen. He’d done it all in Illinois. When he realized that his brother wasn’t coming back for him, he moved out of the motel and into the crappy one bedroom that he now calls home.

“Oh, man,” Steve says, clearly disappointed. Dean’s eyes go to the clock on the wall confirming that Steve has to leave before he says it. “I gotta get back to work. Can I come by later?”

“I’ll finish her paint job today. Stop by tomorrow?” Dean asks.

“Sure. Thanks, Dean.”

“Thanks for the slushie.”

Steve grins and gets up to leave. When he gets to the bus stop he waves at Dean with that big dorky grin.

Dean waits for him to be gone before letting out a cough and making his way to his desk. He spills his Aspirin into his hand and takes a few before pulling out his oxygen tank and threading the cannula over his ears. He’s fine with Steve seeing him with the bum leg. There’s no hiding that. He doesn’t want to look like the pity party he is with a heart made of paper, waiting to fail.

Dean walks back into the garage and leans his cane against the wall before grabbing the paint and resuming his work.

@telefunkies @royalrowena @ain-t-bovvered @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @adventurous-blob @deanwinchesterswitch @righteouscomeuppancejogstheliver @qenericqueer @castibella-shipper-of-the-lord @destielhoneybee @k-lewis @thekingofselfloathing @skittles-rainbow-cat @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @spn-thot @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @destiel-honeypie @soloarcana @fandomismymiddlename @lily-t2019 @anarchiana @samatedeansbroccoli

[deanwinchesterstattoo]

IS NOBODY GOING TO TALK ABOUT CAS SINGING TO THE BABY BECAUSE HOT DAMN MY FEELS EXPLODED