Cas thinks for a moment, then says, “The summer solstice isn’t really the longest day of the year. Every day is twenty four hours long. The solstice just has the most sunlight, so people say it’s the longest.”
Dean throws his head back as he laughs. “Very good, Cas. I already knew that, though. Also, it’s April.”
Tilting his head, Cas says, “Next time be more specific.”
. + . + . + .
“Tell me something true.”
“A snail can sleep for three years,” Cas says.
Dean makes an odd noise in his throat. “I have no idea how to respond to that.”
Cas shrugs. “No response is necessary. You asked for a fact, I relayed it.”
Shaking his head, Dean sighs. When Cas turns away, Dean smiles.
. + . + . + .
“Tell me something true.”
“There are 88 official constellations, but people have been telling stories about the stars since stories and stars began.”
Dean looks at Cas’s face in the starlight, then looks back up at the night sky. “Tell me,” he says.
Cas tells a story of a young girl in what is now Spain, who looked at the sky 700 years ago and saw the wings of a butterfly. He tells of a group of young men in Greece's far past who saw Achilles chasing Patrocles, and how they hoped Achilles would one day catch his love.
When Cas falls silent they just look at the stars, side by side in the grass. After a time Dean says, “Thanks.” He hopes it’s enough.
. + . + . + .
“Tell me something true.”
Cas looks at Dean, a thoughtful look on his face. Finally he says, “Green is my favorite color.”
Another color, this one pink, rises to Dean’s cheeks. “Yeah?” he says. The word sticks in his throat.
Cas nods.
“I like blue,” Dean says.
. + . + . + .
“Tell me something true.”
“I don’t regret falling from grace,” Cas says. His words are soft, but resolute.
True.
Dean searches Cas’s face for any sign of sadness, any hint of doubt, but all he sees is the truth he asked for.
“Even though you can’t–” Dean starts, but Cas cuts him off.
“I don’t regret falling from grace.” He emphasizes every word. “I don’t miss healing, or flying, or angel radio. I don’t miss heaven. I don’t miss commanding armies, or striking fear into the hearts of beings with my words alone. You are worth it, Dean Winchester.”
Dean cannot speak. He’s just a guy, a pretty good hunter but fairly average at most everything else. Actually, he screws up just about everything he touches that isn’t about killing monsters. To think that Cas–beautiful, strong, bigger than the Chrysler building Cas–gave everything up for him…
“Please stop thinking like that, Dean,” Cas says. “I can’t get into your head anymore, but your thoughts are plain on your face. I mean every word. You are worth it.” He brushes a kiss on Dean’s cheek, and then he’s gone, almost as if he’d flown.
. + . + . + .
“Tell me something true.”
Cas smiles, the smile that lights up his whole face. “I love you,” he says.
Something inside Dean falls into place; he almost hears the click in his head. Or in his heart. He can’t stop his own grin from spreading across his face. “I know,” he says with a wink.
Cas rolls his eyes, says, “I do pay attention when we watch movies together, Dean. Especially the ones we’ve seen thirteen times.”
“Thirteen?” Dean sputters. “We haven’t watched the Star Wars trilogy–”
“Thirteen times, Dean. I have an excellent memory.”
“Okay, Rain Man,” Dean mutters, pouting.
“Who is–” Cas starts, but Dean interrupts him.
“We’ll watch that one later. Just shut up and kiss me.”
Cas does, and after Dean says, “I love you too, you know.”
Foreheads pressed together, Cas murmurs, “I know.”
**
for @bend-me-shape-me 's Dean/Cas Summer Prompts Series!
this is the last of a three part beach holiday fic (tfw + wayward sisters)
part one (#5 "holidays" 3k)
part two (#6 "water guns" 2.8k)
part three (3k)
It was four a.m. and Dean was awake. He let out a frustrated sigh and rolled on his back.
It was Cas’ fault. He wouldn’t be in this situation if the afternoon before he hadn’t come standing by Dean’s chair and asked for their hotel key card, saying he needed to get back to watch a show he always watched at six on Saturdays.
“Are you being serious right now?” Dean had asked, his sunglasses sliding down his nose.
Cas had shrugged and held out his hand.
And to be fair, Dean didn’t have to go with him, but it was hot, and he still felt a little tired from the early morning and the water fight, so he thought it could be nice to get cleaned up and take a walk in the little town before dinner.
And it was a good plan, only he’d made the mistake of laying down on the bed, start the A/C and turn on the news, while Cas took his time in the shower.
He was not sure what did it, if the monotone cadence of the anchor, the white noise coming from the bathroom, the faint buzzing of the A/C system, the otherwise stillness around him, but he’d stood no chance.
He’d fallen asleep and woken up four hours later with his face plastered to the mattress, his mouth open and a wet stain on his bedsheet.
So, of course now it was four a.m and he was awake.
He glanced at the other bed and found it empty and pristine as usual, so he grabbed his phone and sent, where are u?
That’s how he found himself walking towards the beach, passing small groups of people that were just turning in from the night out and shivering against the night breeze.
There was a little red boat upside down near the spot where they had planted their beach umbrellas in the past few days. It was easy to spot and even easier to spot Cas, standing next to it, looking out at the sea.
He turned to look over his shoulder before Dean even stepped onto the sand.
“What is it?”
“Can’t sleep,” said Dean, huffing. The sky was pitch black, no moon in sight, and too many town lights to allow the stars to show themselves and yet, with the smell of the sea and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, Dean started to feel better about being out at this hour.
He kicked off his flip flops and laid down the towel he'd brought. Cas watched him do it, watched him sit down, leaving enough space for someone else to sit. Dean looked up at him, "You need an invitation?"
Cas shifted on the spot.
“I can’t stay,” he said mysteriously, “I have business to attend to.”
“What - What business?”
Cas didn’t answer, in his infuriatingly fashion. He thought about something for a long moment and then seemed to come to a decision. “You can come if you want.”
So Dean got up again, puzzled, and trailed after him down empty and quiet little streets. He adjusted his folded towel under his arm.
“Care to fill me in before we reach whatever destination you have in mind?”
Cas stopped short at an intersection and paid him no mind. He seemed to study the face of the buildings around them and then started walking again. “Cas, seriously?”
His eyes still resolutely ahead of him, Cas sighed, “Don’t overreact,” he said, which of course made ten thousand alarms go off in Dean’s mind, but before he could say anything, he added, “I’m here to see a witch.”
Dean almost tripped over himself. “Y- what? Wait, what?” he grabbed Cas’ arm to finally stop him and face him. This wasn’t funny anymore.
Cas seemed annoyed but resigned. He clearly wished Dean wasn’t there and regretted telling him that he could join him.
“I asked you not to overreact,” he said, “During my nights out, I noticed some carvings and symbols around the town. They’re benign,” he highlighted, “protective symbols, but they can only be the work of a witch. More than one, in my opinion.”
Dean was stunned, “And you didn’t think of sharing that information? You know, with your hunter friends?”
“There was no need to get you involved.”
Dean opened his mouth to object, but Cas was quicker to add, “I know these carvings. I’ve encountered them before. Trust me, they’re not dangerous.”
That wasn’t helping. Of course he trusted him, only Dean would feel better if between the two of them they had a blade, a gun, a sharp stick at least, anything more than just a beach towel and a hotel key card, “So, what’s your plan?”
A little wrinkle appeared in between Cas’ eyebrows. "There’s no plan. I only mean to talk to them. These spells need to be renewed every couple of days. Last night I kept watch, but no one came; I only assume they will show themselves now.”
"And you assumed right,” came a voice from behind them.
Dean’s blood froze in his veins. They had no idea about what they were dealing with, no way to contact the others, and what was worse, he was in his damn flip flops. He could die in his damn flip flops.
When he turned around, there was a young woman standing a few feet from them. She held herself tall and her expression was guarded, but she was wearing a summer flowy dress and beside her stood a little girl with big curious eyes. Together they didn't exactly seem threatening, wearing what looked like handmade bead jewellery, but Dean knew better than to judge a witch by her age and appearance.
“Hello,” said Cas, calmly. He tried to take a step towards them but the woman instinctively raised an arm as if to shield the little girl, so Cas stopped walking and held his hands up, “We were just admiring your work.”
“Thank you,” she said, but did not sound reassured, “We know you’re hunters. We’ve been watching you since you arrived, in your cars full of weapons.”
“We are what you say, but we are not here on business,” said Cas, and Dean noticed that he also moved slightly to partially cover him from view, to protect him like the woman had done with the girl. He told himself it was just accidental mirroring, “I’m Castiel. This is Dean.”
“There’s nothing here for you,” the woman said, “We haven’t had any trouble in a hundred and twenty years.”
“You and your family keep this town safe." The woman nodded. “We are not looking for trouble. As you can see, we are here on vacation.”
He gave her a little smile, gesturing towards their swim trunks and bare legs.
"We know. We've observed this as well and we judged you not a threat. Then why did you seek us?"
"I only wanted to offer my knowledge to you. I am an angel. I can teach you carvings and sigils that will make your shields stronger, permanent."
The woman's eyes widened in surprise and her lips twiched in disbelief and Dean was pretty sure the same feelings could be read on his face. After a moment she said, “I don’t know you. Why would I trust you?” which was exactly what Dean would have asked.
“You don’t have to. I have written them down. I will give them to you, and you can do with them as you please,” he said, fishing out of his pocket a folded piece of paper and holding it up. "Your magic is strong, but it needs constant tending: your family can't leave this place or the magic will die. I only want to provide an alternative. You may not feel constrained by it, but maybe -" he paused and Dean could not see his face from where he was, but the witch's eyes flickered towards the little girl by her side, " - someone else one day may."
She studied him for a long moment. When she let out a breath, her shoulders came down and Dean realized that up until that moment she'd been tense like a string. She'd been scared of them. Dean let himself finally relax.
“And you would offer your knowledge and expect nothing in return?” she asked.
Cas only shrugged.
“He likes to help,” interjected Dean in a fake annoyed tone. “It’s his thing,” he added, and when Cas threw him a look from over his shoulder, just to make sure he knew he was still pissed at him, Dean added, “It's a pain in the ass sometimes, actually.”
At his words, the little girl let out a giggle that broke the silence that followed and dissolved the last of the tension that was still in the air.
The witch’s features softened. She walked towards them and took the piece of paper Cas was offering her, keeping an eye on them as she unfolded it and briefly studied it.
From where he was, Dean saw drawings of intricate patterns and what he could only assume were Enochian spells.
“Thank you,” the witch said, folding it once more. Then she gestured for the little girl to step forward. “I’m Alinor,” she said, “And this is my daughter, Camille.”
The little girl hurried to take her mother’s hand.
“Hello,” said Cas and Dean gave a little wave.
She smiled shyly at Cas, “Are you really an angel?”
He nodded and she smiled brighter, “I have a book about you.”
-
Dean waited until they were on their way back to the hotel, with Alinor and Camille far behind them, to finally snap. He had really behaved himself, waited patiently through the cute meet and greet Cas had with his little fan and even struck a conversation with Alinor about holidays and the local delicacies. It hadn’t even been that bad, but still, in the back of his head he kept making a list with all the things he needed to bark at Cas.
Now, as he stomped next to him under a sky that was already clearing up, Dean didn’t even know where to start.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he settled with in the end.
Cas took a deep breath, as if he'd known it was only a matter of time before Dean spoke, “Dean, there was no need -”
“What if they were dangerous, what if they put a spell on you? Kidnapped you, bloody killed you!” he whispered furiously, trying to contain the hot anger that wanted him to shout - not ideal at dawn, in the streets of a little town.
Cas kept his tone calm, and that only exasperated Dean further, “I knew that you would tell Sam, and Sam would tell Eileen and it would eventually have spread. I didn’t want to ruin the holiday or cause unnecessary alarm. Perhaps even scare the witches in doing something to protect their town.”
“Alright, I get it,” Dean said, grabbing his arm to make him stop and face him. “I get it,” he hissed, forcing him to look at him in the eyes, “But I'm not talking about the others, am I? You don’t wanna tell them? Fine, I can do that. But you should have told me. This is about me and you, do you understand?” he exhaled, almost expecting to see smoke coming out of his nostrils. “I need to know what’s going on, even when you think it’s nothing,” he said gesturing between the two of them, “Cause me and you, that's different, yeah?”
Cas didn't reply for a long moment. So long actually that Dean started feeling uncomfortable under his gaze and tried to replay what he’d said in his head. Did he say something weird?
“It is,” Cas said in the end, the barest note of wonder in his voice, like he never expected to hear Dean say it.
“Cool,” Dean cleared his throat, wondering where the hell his anger had gone all of the sudden, “Glad that’s settled,” he said dumbly, thankful for the moment to be finally broken and still not sure about what had just happened. He knew there were other things he wanted to yell at him about, and wanted Cas to promise him or something, but they’d just flown right out of his head and he couldn’t for the life of him remember even just one, so he started walking again.
“It was nice anyway. What you did,” he conceded after a few steps, not without a hint of annoyance for admitting it, “Family business can be a bitch. I should know.”
Cas didn’t say anything, but when Dean stole a glance his way, he had his lips stretched in a little smile.
"Next time though, I'll let you help only one drunk get home safe or whatever, you choose, but then we spend the rest of the time just stargazing or something. I work enough during the day, you know?"
"Sounds good," said Cas, and Dean didn't have to look this time to know the little smile was still there.
They walked in silence the rest of the way.
When they arrived back to the hotel, it was just past seven, and that meant they had started serving breakfast, which was perfect for Dean.
His phone buzzed as he took a seat on the empty terrace. It was a text from Sam.
hey, you up?
yeah, im down at breakfast
“I thought you were joking. Is this your second plate?” was the first thing Sam said when he saw him, “It’s not even seven thirty.”
“Haven’t slept. Don’t ask.”
“Alright,” he said, taking the seat across from him with an amused smile.
“So, what’s up?”
Sam’s face changed at once. He looked troubled, the familiar spiral of worry making its appearance on his forehead as he took a sip from his coffee mug.
“Dean, are you – Look, I wanted to talk to you. I- I’m sorry about what I told you before leaving. I shouldn’t have put that on you. I thought it was good news, I thought it would make you happy, but – I should have known better. Eileen made me think that -”
Dean raised a hand and interrupted him, “Whoa, Sam. You got nothing to be sorry for.”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Yeah, well, apparently, you’ve been! And I didn’t even -”
“Sam,” he interrupted again, “I’m okay. Really.”
Sam studied his face for a moment. He took another sip of his coffee.
“And what do you -? I mean, have you thought about it?”
Dean let go of his fork, wiped his mouth and then said, “Yeah, I did. And I think I need to stay where I am right now.”
It felt so much easier this time around that he almost couldn’t believe how much time he spent freaking out over such a simple answer. Sam’s face crumpled up.
“Don’t – don’t make that face. It’s just that now I don’t want things to change. I’m good where I am. You – you are in a different place. And it’s fine. I just need to change at my own pace.”
“That’s not how I wanted this to go.”
“I know. And it’s gonna be weird, I know,” he sighed. Sam was still his little brother, and Dean was still the one who had to squash all his fears, even if he had those very same fears knocking on his brain. “But – this is how I need it to go.”
“I get it," he said and he tried a smile. He had his Sad Puppy Eyes down to a manageable three out of ten, “It could take a while anyway. Things could change.”
Dean huffed a laugh. It felt nice to know that Sam had his very same thoughts. He just nodded and resumed his eating.
“I’m very happy for you man,” he said, feeling much lighter. He didn’t even know that whole story had still been weighing on him, “I truly am.”
“I know.”
They smiled at each other for a moment. Then Sam asked, "You'll be okay?"
"Yeah," Dean said almost on reflex and then his eyes caught Cas coming in the breakfast hall and walking to the buffet table. He watched him as he grabbed a plate from one pile, "Yeah, I'll be okay, Sammy."
Sam followed his gaze and then brought it back on Dean, "So - why haven't you slept?”
Dean groaned, “I was around with Cas. Jesus, you don't wanna know. He's - unbelievable. Like, I'm pretty sure that at night he’s got this whole other life we don’t know about,” he said, making Sam snort.
Cas approached their table with his plate holding a single toast with peanut butter and jelly on top. He sat down, with a smile on his face that was like a deceitful image of innocence, “Morning, Sam.”
Dean moved his dirty stuff to make space for him, “Where did you go? I turned one second and you disappeared.”
“I was saying goodbye to Lindsay.”
“Who the hell is Lindsay?”
“The woman who works the night shift at the reception,” he said, like it was obvious.
Dean glanced at Sam who was looking between them trying to hold in a laugh, “See what I mean?”
“Yeah, I see,” Sam said, but his tone was thoughtful rather than playful. He pressed his lips together, and patted Dean's shoulder as he stood up with his mug, “I see," he repeated somewhat solemnly.
Dean was confused. He followed Sam's back as he went to get his coffee refill and not for the first time in the past three hours he asked himself if he’d said something weird.
“Everything's alright?” Cas’ voice called him back to the table.
Dean met his eyes, then returned his gaze on Sam, who was watching them from the distance, and then back on Cas’ expectant face.
He decided to stop asking himself questions.
“Yeah. Everything is alright.”
this was written for last year's event #deancassummerprompts21 organized by the lovely now deactivated bend-me-shape-me
there is a sequel! it takes place in the same universe many years after this (no real references to the holiday except for a little mention) but if you'd like to know what happens to dean and cas in the future there's your answer. <3 thank you for making it this far!
for @bend-me-shape-me ‘s deancas summer prompts: drive-in movie!
Dean really should be watching the movie.
It’s Jurassic Park, which deserves immense amounts of respect on its own, and scene where Jeff Goldblum will be shirtless is coming up. But instead of focusing on Laura Dern’s Dr. Ellie Sattler kicking ass, Dean is watching Cas watch the movie, which is almost even better.
Dean has noticed that Cas does this thing when he’s focusing on something where his eyebrows draw together and his mouth tightens, squinting-but-not-squinting. It’s like all Dean had to do was say this movie is one of my favorites and now Cas is treating it like it’s essential lore.
(It is one of Dean’s favorite movies, though. It came out when he was fourteen, and he saved up for weeks after seeing promotional posters for it so that he could take Sam, who at the age of ten thought dinosaurs were awesome.)
Here’s the best part, though, of Cas’s focus: no matter what they’re watching, whether they’re in the Deancave bingewatching Remington Steele or here in the front seat of the Impala at the drive-in, all it takes is Dean reaching out his hand to take Cas’s for Cas to practically unfurl.
Cas turns toward him with a smile, and there’s nothing else for Dean to do, clearly, except kiss that smile, and Cas kisses him back. It’s definitely not the first time they’ve kissed, but Cas’s warm, certain mouth against his never fails to make Dean’s pulse race.
He has to remember not to get carried away--there are families at the drive-in, some of them probably with kids the same age as Dean and Sam were when the movie came out, and Dean doesn’t want to scar them for life--but then the movie audio on the car radio flips to another scene, and Dean abruptly pulls away.
“Jeff Goldblum is about to be shirtless,” Dean says in response to Cas’s confused expression. They watch the characters discuss what to do now about the escaped dinosaurs, with Jeff Goldblum as Dr. Ian Malcom lounging on a table, shirt a-flutter and trails of blood prominent, and Cas nods seriously.
“I can see why you like this scene,” Cas says. “But personally I think you look better shirtless.”
(Well, then Dean has to kiss him again. It’s only right. But they don’t scandalize any children.)
It all starts with an off-hand comment Dean makes at one of the magazines Cas – assuming without Dean noticing – puts in their cart at the supermarket.
It’s a travel magazine, and the cover features a dreamy looking shot of a place in Greece by the sea. “Huh,” Dean says, gazing at the endless blue of the ocean under a bright sky. “Would be awesome to go.”
He says it like a far-away idea, nothing really solid because even if he dreams of a relaxing beach vacation now and again, just laying back with a beer on one of those beach chairs, basking in the sun with Cas next to him wearing nothing but swim trunks and sun glasses – those aviators that would make Cas look like a film star, Dean’s sure… Even though he goes there in his mind sometimes when the bed in the motel room of the week is particularly creaky, he knows the thought is nothing more but a daydream.
Because when did they ever really catch a break long enough to go on vacation.
But when Cas comes peeking over Dean’s shoulder to see what he’s referring to, all he says is, “We could.”
Like a madman.
Like it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility.
“Yeah, sure.” Dean laughs it off. “We’re just gonna say, ‘Hey Casper, can you hold off on killing innocent people for a week, so we can slurp Margaritas at the beach?’ Cuz that’s gonna go over well.”
Cas shoots him an unimpressed look. “You’re not the only hunters in America, Dean. I’m sure ‘Casper’ won’t care who burns their bones.”
“Rude,” Dean comments lightly.
“I’m serious, Dean,” Cas won’t let him deflect. “You’ve done enough. Saved enough people. You deserve something good too. You can do whatever you want, now.”
Dean’s mind can’t come up with a quick explanation for the lump in his throat. He thinks of a lone barn, electric current in the air as he was told, maybe for the very first time in his life, that, Good things do happen.
It’s just… It’s not what he’s used to, is the thing.
Even when a good thing jumps right into his face, he just doesn’t know what to do with it.
So he argues, “Well, as long as Baby doesn’t suddenly turn water-proof, I don’t see us cross the ocean. Ever.” He jabs a warning finger towards Cas’ chest. “No way in hell are you getting me on a plane!”
Cas’ lips twitch into a grin that promises danger, shark-like, as though on a metaphorical chessboard, Dean’s just walked his queen into a trap. “No need for that,” he says. “I can take you.”
“Angel Airlines,” Dean huffs breathlessly. Then, when Cas doesn’t bat an eye, “Wait, you’re actually serious?”
“Of course, Dean.”
“I get queasy when you do that.” It’s the last protest he has in him, and it’s half-hearted at best.
Cas’ hands disappear into his coat pocket. A gesture Dean has come to think of as meaning Cas just wrapped up a good deal. “I can heal your congestion.”
Ignoring Dean’s spluttering, Cas walks around him to take the shopping cart out of his hands and wheel it towards the aisle with the body care products, no doubt to add some sunscreen to their purchases.
“Pack your bags when we’re back home,” Cas decides. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”
And Dean’s glad Cas has his back to him now, because he has no control whatsoever over the smile that creeps onto his face.
“Bossy,” he says, as he readily follows wherever Cas leads.
It’s time to let the good things in his life take charge, he guesses.
One fateful Tuesday afternoon, Claire had shown Cas how to add photos to his text messages. The unfortunate side effect of this was that Cas’ texts got even more difficult for Dean to understand.
‘🤠👅🍔🍕👥’
Dean could at least got something like ‘do you want to get food together’ from Cas’ usual texts. Dean couldn’t always work them out (🎗📄⚒➕➕) had been the oddest so far - resulting in Cas calling Dean to accuse him of not answering his question of whether or not a commemorative print of an Impala to put on his wall was an appropriate present for father’s day. But generally, Dean could at least get the gist.
But then Cas learned how to add his own images, rather than the limited selection of emojis his phone offered. Cas, apparently, just didn’t think in words. Dean supposed that, being an inter-dimensional bit of light angel, speaking English was, for Cas, a foreign language. Communicating in images was his way of speaking how he was used to. Unfortunately, though, Dean couldn’t pop down to the library to get a translation guide. Cas seemed happy to chat over the phone though, so Dean just called him each time he couldn’t work out one of his odd texts.
The only word that Cas seemed comfortable sending was ‘Dean’. It was at the top of every text. Dean. Dean. Dean. Cas didn’t do that with anyone else. Then, one day, Cas didn’t send the word ‘Dean’.
He sent a picture of him instead. Asleep.
At first, Dean thought that maybe Cas just wanted to share the photo. Or just his way of saying that he had left before Dean woke up. But then it kept coming. At the top of every text was that same image. Instead of the word Dean, Dean was looking at a photo of himself. Not even a particularly nice one. Definitely not the sort of one he wanted Sam seeing (those pajamas were private, dammit). He decided to bring it up with Cas.
‘Hey, er, Cas - that image you keep sending me?’ Dean asked one day over breakfast.
Cas blinked, looking up from his mission to get the clumpy bits of jam off of his toast. ‘Yes Dean,’ he said. Dean again, it that tone of his. ‘The ophiojura. Yes. It reminds me of aspects which are unique, and of luck, that does not necessarily seem like luck.’
Dean had neither the foggiest idea of what image Cas was referring to, nor what an ophiojura was. He’d have to look it up. ‘No, no. I mean the picture of me you keep sending.’
Cas frowned. ‘I thought the meaning of that image was be obvious,’ he said.
‘No, I get what you’re saying,’ said Dean. He didn’t in a way. He got that Cas sent the image instead of his name, but Cas always meant to communicate more. ‘But it’s kind of awkward, yeah?’
‘No, Dean,’ said Cas. ‘It’s perfectly fine. I find you to be aesthetically pleasing.’ Conversation over, he returned to de-clumping jam.
‘Er, Cas?’
‘Yes, Dean?’
‘I meant awkward for me,’ said Dean.
Again Cas frowned. Forehead furrowing, eyes narrowing, slight you-are-doing-strange-human-things head tilt. ‘I do not understand,’ Cas said. ‘You view a reflection of yourself in the mirror each morning without problem. How then, is a recorded selection of coloured squares representing that same image so different?”
How exactly to explain that concept to an impatient angel? Dean didn't know how. 'I just don't really like seeing some photo of me every time you send a text.'
'You would prefer that I did not use that image?' Cas said. He sounded upset. A rarity, and Dean was greeted by a rare realisation that, telling Cas not the send that image was like telling him 'don't say my name every again'.
'No,' Dean quickly said. 'How about a photo of both of us?'
It wasn't a bad idea actually. Less awkward than seeing just his own face, and Cas would have to look at his own every time he sent a text, so, payback.
'I'll know you mean just me when you send it, yeah?' Dean added. 'Together?'
Cas still did not seem entirely convinced, but he slid off of his seat and stood behind Dean. Strong arms came around Dean' shoulders, pinning him in place. With an inch seperating them, Cas felt obscenely close and awkwardly far away. Dean decided to cut his loses and pulled Cas closer.
'Come on, man, let's do this properly,' said Dean. He pulled Cas over to one side and threw an arm over his shoulders. 'Now you do the same, yeah? Hand here, over my shoulder.'
Cas looked at Dean as though he had run off to the otherside of the Bunker. He grabbed Dean and pulled him in. Dean found himself almost touching chests with Cas. With a deep breath, they would be touching. Dean almost pulled away, but Cas gave a pleased smile and starting squinting at his phone, carefully opertating the camera settings.
After about two hours minutes of Dean trying not to breath too much and listening out of Sam trampling into the kitchen, Cas was ready. 'The image will be recorded in ten seconds,' he said seriously, pressing the button.
He frowned intently at the camera, a somewhat bemused, I-don't really-understand-this look. Dean decided to tilt his chin up in an effect to look at least somewhat cool. He wasn't sure how well it was working.
The camear light blinked. 'The image has been recorded,' Cas announced. He dutifully turned the phone around so Dean could access the image. If Dean was honest, it was even worse than the one of him sleeping. Far too close and far too difficult to explain. Cas seemed to be pleased with it though, so he smiled. 'Looks great.'
'Thank you, Dean.'
Dean. In that way only Cas could say 'Dean'.
------
Cas send the image of the two of them all of three times before he reverted to sending the one of Dean sleeping. It 'didn't feel right' he said. Their selfie together became Cas' wallpaper instead.
One fateful Thursday afternoon, Dean excused himself from the room very quickly when Cas announced that Claire had explained to him one could get prints of images on one's phone and he had placed an order.
Cas appears out of nowhere in the passenger seat, making Dean jump out of his skin and spill soda all over himself.
“Jesus, Cas! I said you gotta stop doing that."
“Sorry,” he says, staring as Dean checks the wet stains on his clothes and the bag of french fries in his lap. His shirt is soaked but the food's still edible and the seat is dry so at least there's that.
Cas raises his gaze above his shoulder and takes in the cars parked on either side of the Impala, the snack bar in the distance and the big screen in front of them, where Dr. Lesh is talking to little Robbie, more or less one hour into Poltergeist. A wrinkle appears in between his eyebrows. “Where are we?”
“At a drive-in, you dumbass.”
Cas looks back at him in confusion.
“It’s where you watch movies from your car.”
“I know,” he says, with an irritated inflection, like that wasn’t what he was confused about. He doesn’t elaborate further, “Where is Sam?” he asks.
“Stayed at the motel,” Dean says, giving up on his shirt and starting to feel irritated too, “Why are you here again?”
The question makes the wrinkle disappear and his face go back to his usual business-like expression, “I found a werehouse that I have reason to believe is occupied by demons. It’s heavily warded against angels so I need you to go inside.”
Dean shoves a couple of soggy fries in his mouth. His eyes go back to the screen, “Oh, yeah? Okay.”
Cas frowns again, “It’s best if we get Sam first.”
“Wait, you mean now?”
Cas just stares.
“Yeah, forget it, man. We wrapped a case like two hours ago. Now I’m relaxing. Sam's probably asleep. We ain’t going to no werehouse with you tonight.”
Cas opens his mouth to say something, but the music in Poltergeist swells omniously and it distracts him. He turns to look at the screen, at Marty taking his face off in front of the mirror. His frown deepens, “Do you find this relaxing? In your line of work?”
“Uh – yeah?” Dean says, grabbing another fry from the bag, “In movies the bad guys – y'know, nevermind, you wouldn’t get it,” he says, gesturing with the hand holding the fry.
Cas follows the movement with his eyes right up until Dean brings it to his mouth. When it disappears behind Dean’s lips his gaze travels up to his eyes again. It makes Dean feel weird for a second.
“So, you won’t go?” he says and Dean remembers to feel annoyed at him.
He exhales, “Look, come get me tomorrow, okay?”
Cas blinks. “Okay,” he says, but doesn’t disappear immediatly like Dean expects. He goes back to studying the screen as the ghosts go down the stairs, blowing everyone’s mind.
Dean throws him a look, “You wanna watch it?”
“No, I should go,” says Cas, his tone flat, his eyes still fixed on the movie.
“To spend the whole night looking at a werehouse you can’t even go in? You can get a night off, right? What’s the – company policy up there?”
“That doesn’t matter anymore.”
Dean tries not to roll his eyes at how dramatic he sounds.
“Okay, so you can live a little," he says and then amuses himself adding, “Just try not to talk too much if you can, Chatty Cathy, and maybe we’ll go get milkshakes after.”
Cas looks at him confused again and Dean raises his eyebrows, “It’s a drink. It’s got like milk and ice cream and whatever.”
“I know what a milkshake is,” he says, irritated once again. “I won’t have one.”
Dean rolls his eyes this time, “Fine.” He guesses it’s Cas’ way of saying he’s going to stay after all.
He crumples up the paper bag and makes himself comfortable against his seat. On the screen, Steve is talking to Mr. Teague.
Cas does not in fact talk for the rest of the movie, but Dean still gets a kick out of him being there, seeing his shoulders losing some of their stiffness, his perplexed expressions, his eyes widen and squint when the soundtrack changes.
By the time the credits start rolling, Dean realizes he studied Cas' reactions as much as he’s watched the screen. Whatever, he’s seen it like fifty times and can recite it backwards. It’s not like every day you get to go to the movies with a capital A-angel - Dean’s just curious.
Cas doesn’t disappear when the movie ends either, so Dean really drives them to the nearest diner to get himself a milkshake. Cas gets out of the car and stands next to him while he waits for his turn in line, so Dean tells him about special effects and Spielberg and the freaky curse on the franchise he and Sam haven't had the chance to go and properly investigate yet.
“There’s a second one then?” Cas asks as Dean is driving back to the motel.
“Yeah, but there are also others you should watch,” he says - his mind already working out a list. “I'm thinking The Texas Chain Saw Massacre next - another classic. We could rent it sometimes -” he trails off.
What is he even saying? He frowns at himself. They’re currently busy with nothing less than the freaking apocalypse, making plans for movie nights it’s just stupid.
Cas doesn’t say it’s stupid. He says, “Okay."
"O-okay? Yeah, uh - alright."
Dean stops the Impala right outside his room and Cas surveys the surroundings for a moment.
“I will see you tomorrow then,” he says after, looking back at him.
All of the sudden the car seems too small and too quiet and too dark. Dean doesn’t know how he's been in that space for hours and he’s only just noticing it. He doesn’t feel like talking so he just nods.
“Good night, Dean,” Cas says.
“Night,” says Dean to an already empty seat.
He goes to bed still feeling weird for making plans with Cas, as if once this business is done they won’t go on their own separate ways without looking back, as if Cas would come down from Heaven to hang out on Friday nights or something.
Cas must know though. Cas must know and he indulged him anyway.
Maybe he did cause he thinks they're gonna get killed in the end, so it doesn't really matter, or maybe he's just as much a delusional dumbass as he is, thinking that one day they'll have the time and place for that.
It'd be fun though, Dean thinks, as he falls asleep.
It's a pity. They could have a good time.
@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and i said YES
Dean said it was too hot. He’d said it fifty times already since they left the bunker this morning and they were not even halfway through the journey.
He huffed and puffed, saying how uncomfortable he was in his jeans and tshirt and how much he hated his sweaty skin sticking to the vinyl seat. Cas tried to look sympathetic.
“I can’t even look at you right now,” said Dean, his eyes on the road, little drops of sweat above his upper lip. “At least loose the trench coat. I feel like I’m wearing it, it’s making me physically sick,” he said overly dramatic.
Cas indulged him and slipped it off, took off his jacket as well and loosened his tie.
Then he unbottoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He did a pretty nice job of it, he thought. He'd had done it a couple of times before, but Dean always said it looked messy and usually rolled them down again to do them himself.
Cas didn't mind that too much; Dean's fingertips travelling up his arms felt different than anything else he'd have ever experienced and he kind of started anticipating it.
Dean must have felt really bad today though, because he didn’t do anything but throw a quick look at him. Despite not being affected by it, Cas could tell the weather was unusually hot and Dean was definitely not used to it. Still, he could do with a change of topic.
Dean seemed to cheer up a bit when they passed a sign saying they were nearing a gas station, but then spent the time it took to get there to complain some more and apologize to his girl for not thinking of getting her a drink sooner. Cas managed to avoid making a comment on Dean talking about his car like that.
The place was pretty much empty. There were only two pumps that looked pretty old and a little store behind them. Dean stopped the car at the pump closer to the road and wriggled in his seat to take out a few dollar bills from his jeans, “I’m gonna get gas, could you go ahead to pay and get me something to drink?”
Cas nodded, “Sure.”
So he stepped into the store where the A/C was blasting and some mellow music was playing in the background. He wandered towards the fridges that held the beverages and spent a while trying not to feel overwhelmed by the choices available.
He knew what kind of beer Dean preferred, but it was too early for that. He scanned the shelves and looked for something that seemed refreshing.
There was one kind of juice that promised to be a "Natural Fruit Drink" and was stored in little colourful pouches. It looked refreshing enough. He grabbed two lemonaded drinks and a big water bottle.
“Would you consider this being a refreshing beverage?”
The old lady at the cash register smiled at him as if he was being funny, “Sure. There’s only one*, right?” she said, winking. She looked like she was expecting a reaction from him, but Cas didn’t know what to say. First of all, he was paying for two pouches.
“Uh –"
“Nevermind, dear,” she huffed a laugh, “you were probably too young to remember.”
That was highly unlikely, Cas thought. Thankfully she was handing him his receipt already so he was able to get away from the conversation with a, "Have a good day, ma’am.”
When he got outside Dean was waiting for him leaned against the Impala. There was no one else still, so he wasn’t in a hurry to free the space and lose the shade of the canopy over his head.
He had his arms crossed and looked like he was thinking intensely. Probably a way to murder the Sun.
He looked up when Cas approached, “What you got for me?”, he said and when he saw what he was carrying, he had the funniest reaction.
He started laughing.
“What?”
“Capri Sun?” he laughed some more, genuinely delighted, “God,” he said, taking one of the pouches from Cas, “Wh-why did you get these?” he asked in a silly voice and didn’t even wait for Cas to reply. “I haven’t had one of these in like – forever.”
He turned the pouch in his hands and then his smile softened and disappeared. He cleared his throat and knitted his eyebrows.
“You don’t like it?” Cas asked, confused by the sudden change of expression. “I also got you water.”
“Uh – no,” said Dean, “No, nothing like that. It’s just –” he was still turning the thing in his hands and not making any move to start drinking it. “These remind me of my mum?” he said like it was a question. He looked up at him and let out a little laugh. “It’s – weird. I can’t really – I mean I was three. I know I can’t possibly remember, and maybe most of the things are like – a wish or a dream or something, but – You know when you get like, memories from tastes and stuff? Like in In Search of Lost Time.”
Cas didn’t really know.
It must have read on his face because Dean snorted, “Forget it,” and kept going, “It brings me back to when I was a kid and – I don’t know.” He looked at the pouch. “I think it was summer? Must have been summer. I don’t even – She’d like, take me to the park, I think. I don’t remember Sam being there, so it must have been the last summer where it was just me and her, you know, before she – ” he trailed off, his hand gently squeezing the pouch. “Yeah. Anyway, I don't even know if it's real. Could be a commercial or something." He clicked his tongue, then finally jammed the straw in the plastic and brought it to his lips.
Cas was still standing there, his hands full, watching him as he drank. There was more to the story and he didn't want to interrupt. Sure enough, Dean added, “Anyway, when she was gone and we got on the road, money got a bit tight. I remember crying and kicking ‘cause my dad wasn’t buying it for me. That I remember well. I remember I learned not to ask for it anymore. So I had kind of – forgotten about it.”
He fell silent. Dean's childhood had been unfair and tragic and if Cas could have had the power to do something to set it right he would have. Dean rarely talked about it so casually. He didn't seem sad like other times, but as he finished his drink, Cas still felt the need to tell him, "I didn't mean to upset you."
"No, I'm not upset," he was quick to reply, shrugging, "I mean, real or not, it makes me feel good." He flashed out a smile, "It's making me feel good right now," he said, raising his eyebrows playfully at him, "Guess it'll remind me of today now too. And at least I'm sure this is real."
“Is today really a good memory?" asked Cas, skeptical, "You complained all the way here. And I thought you said, 'I'd rather go back to Hell than live another day like this.'"
Dean snorted, “Yeah, well," he said, one corner of his mouth going up in half a smile, "the weather is not all there is."
He looked away and walked a few steps to throw out the empty pouch. On his way back he headed straight towards Cas, and came to stand very close to him.
Cas blinked, “Do you want the other one?”
Dean smiled like he was being funny. “Nah, I’ll drink that later,” he said, but still took out of his hands both the water bottle and the juice and Cas didn’t understand what was going on when Dean sent them bouncing onto the backseat from the open window, barely taking his eyes off of him. Cas could not help but stare back.
“What-" he tried to ask, but Dean was already cupping his left elbow with one hand, soon joined by the other and unrolling the sleeve of his shirt. Oh.
Dean lowered his gaze as he worked and Cas took the chance to stare at him from such a short distance, focus on his eyelashes, his sweaty brow, the dark freckles on his skin. He was really close, closer than Cas thought he'd like to be in this heat. Cas' arm dangled by his side like a dead weight when he released it and his right arm was already halfway up in offering. Seeing that made Dean smile a little.
They were really close.
They were really close and Cas kind of wanted to step closer.
“You are so bad at this,” Dean huffed, his fingertips and knuckles brushing his skin. Cas thought it hadn’t looked that bad, but Dean would surely know better than he. He'd almost finished rolling up the other one as well, and he was slowing down his movements.
Cas wished he had four other arms.
"So -" Dean said, taking his time to smooth the last of the wrinkles, "How about a deal? If I start complaining too much, you -", he pursed his lips like he was thinking it through, but he was just trying to be funny. Cas found him funny, "you can play some music, drown out my voice."
"Do I get to choose the tape?" Cas asked, feigning innocence.
Dean looked up to give him an unamused look that said he was taking it too far, but when their eyes met he realized Cas had been waiting for that and was actually holding back a grin.
So Dean puffed a sigh to smooth the smile that was threatening to curl his lips. It didn't really work so he had to look away to hide it.
"Fine," he said in the end, finally letting go of his arm. He gave him a pat on his shoulder as he walked past him. "I'll let you choose the tape." He pointed a finger at him from the other side of the car. "Just this one time."
Cas was fine with that.
*a reference to the 82' commercial you can see here - just a fun a coincidence that it's the same year Dean's referring to :)
@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES
1.9k, deancas, established relationship, night out.
Dean killed the engine in the parking lot and looked across the street.
The huge neon sign on the door said Summer Solstice in yellow and orange and was decorated with palms and flamingos. It was flashy and intimidating.
“Is this the place?” asked Cas from the passenger seat. Dean looked over at him. He was wearing that baby blue shirt Sam had gotten him for Christmas and had styled his hair in a cute way – at least before Dean had gotten it all messed it up in the garage before they even left. Now there were some locks doing what they wanted in the back. Dean liked it anyway.
“Yeah,” he said, looking towards the entrance again. “That’s what Google says.”
“Mh,” said Cas. He didn’t sound convinced.
“We don’t have to go in,” said Dean, a little nervous.
A couple of young girls were disappearing behind the door right then. They seemed happy and relaxed and Dean was feeling uneasy.
He was too old for this. Had too much trauma, a too complicated history. This was more of a place for Claire. Or maybe not. Maybe she was too cool for it and she’d make fun of him if she knew where he was.
He and Cas didn’t belong there.
They should have stayed at the bunker, kissing on the couch, like the did every Friday night. Dean liked that.
They could still just drive away, pull over in the middle of nowhere and sit on the hood. But they did that all the time. This was supposed to be them trying new things – being out in the world, proud and all. They thought this Summer Solstice's Rainbow Friday could be a good start.
It had taken them all afternoon to find something they liked, driven an hour and a half. Cas had read him the place's entire website and now they were there and Dean was thinking of chickening out. He couldn’t believe himself sometimes.
Dean sighed. “We don’t have to go in, man,” he repeated like a broken record.
Cas was looking at a group of people coming out of the bar. They looked like they were having a good time. Behind them was a couple of guys walking hand in hand. The couple crossed the street to get into the parking lot and stopped to kiss all sweet and soft right in front of their car.
Fuck, alright, Dean was feeling really old and not at all okay.
He wasn’t even sure if he ever kissed Cas in public like that. Actually, that was a lie. He remembered every single kiss they ever shared, he just didn’t know if “no one around for miles” counted as public.
“I think we should go in.” Cas said but then looked over at him and his expression changed. “Are you feeling okay?”
Dean gulped, overheating all of the sudden even if he didn't have his usual jacket on. “Yeah, yeah.”
He rolled down his window, and now he could hear the bubbly pop song that was playing in the bar. That didn’t help.
“Dean, are you sure?”
Yeah. Yeah, sure. He was okay. He was. He could go to a damn bar with his boyfriend. That's what people did. He could do that.
“We can just see if we like it,” Cas said. “We don’t have to stay if we don’t.”
“You said you wanted to try their cocktails.”
Cas looked like he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes at him, “I think I’ll survive if I don’t.”
“It’s just – I’m not used to this kind of –" he couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I know,” Cas said anyway and Dean felt like he really did. He sighed and slumped against the seat. He caught Cas’ eyes. “We don’t have to like it,” he said once more. “It’s just something that we’re trying.”
Dean was watching his eyes and hearing his voice and he was feeling calmer already. He kept saying we and that was really helping for some reason. He couldn’t believe he'd just been freaking out about going into a bar.
“Okay, yeah,” he said, and this time he meant it. Kind of. He looked over at the place again. “So. What’s with that name anyway? Summer solstice?”
He was stalling.
Cas let him, “The longest day of the year,” he said, like a professor. Dean liked when he used that voice and didn’t say that he knew that already. “It signs the start of a new season.”
“What’s that – what’s that cocktail you wanted to try?”
“I think one was called Heatwave Sweet Heatwave,” he said and Dean couldn’t help but huff a laugh, “Oh, God”.
“And another was – Feeling Beachy.”
“Alright, stop, you’re killing me.”
Cas smiled at him. He knew Cas wouldn’t be let down if he said he wanted to go home. But Dean didn’t want to go home. He’d chosen his outfit and all, even ironed his shirt.
He didn't even know what was holding him back. He sighed, took one last look at the neon sign, then rolled the window up and took the keys out.
“Alright, come on, let’s do it,” he said opening his door.
Cas got out, rounded the car as Dean locked it and grabbed his hand.
Crossing the street felt like a huge deal, but being pulled by Cas' strong grip made it easier and Dean felt lighter and lighter. He kind of held his breath when he passed under the rainbow flag by the entrance, but nothing happened, no cold shower, no electrocution. And once they got in, he just felt – normal.
It was a long room, bustling with people, crowding the bar and the dancefloor on the far end. They were of different ages and wearing all kinds of different clothes - not the usual patrons of the hunter bars Dean was used to, but no one turned to stare at him like he'd thought would happen. They were all just chatting away and dancing and minding their business.
Cas squeezed his hand. Dean started to relax.
The bartender was half his age, had an hawaiian shirt on and sunglasses on top of his head. He was wearing one of those flag pins, but Dean couldn’t remember what it meant. He took one look at them and said, “First time?” and Dean thought he must have looked like grade-A idiot.
Not even the time to open and close his mouth like a fish that the guy had slammed two shots on the counter in front of them and winked, “On the house. Welcome.”
So that was a good start.
Then Dean got addicted real quick to a concotion called Tropic Like It’s Hot and went back for seconds and thirds on the mini sandwich platter on the buffet table, all while saying sandwich with fruit should be made illegal worldwide.
They played really terrible remixed songs that Dean didn’t know but got the crowd going, but then they played a bunch of his girl's Taylor and a bunch of the ones Cas liked. Cas said he wasn’t gonna dance but still followed him onto the dancefloor and kind of moved his head and feet a bit while working through his second Feeling Beachy and Dean got to dance all stupid around him and make him laugh so that was nice.
He went to the bathroom for two seconds and when he came out, Cas was at the bar again and someone was chatting him up. Dean prepared for the worst, but when he got closer the guy smiled all bright and said, “Hey, you’re Dean, right?”
He looked a little like Benny, which was weird, and was wearing very short shorts ,which Benny wouldn’t have worn, even if he could’ve totally pulled them off in Dean’s opinion.
Anyway, the fact that it looked a little like Benny made Dean feel instantly comfortable around him and he felt only moderately scrutinized when they were joined by a couple of his friends who asked about their whole life story – even the damn bartender from before leaned over the counter to listen in. Apparently they were all regulars of their Friday events and they all knew each other.
Dean almost doubled over in laughter when Cas said he was an exterminator and that got him thinking that he should definitely stop drinking Tropics, because apparently they were pretty strong under all the sugar. He was glad to let Cas handle the conversation and they were nice to them, even said they hoped to see them back before they left with their drinks.
Dean realized it was the first time he was being seen for who he was by total strangers and not feeling worried about it at all. It felt good, it felt exciting.
Dean looked at Not-Benny walking away with his short shorts and wondered if he could pull them off too.
“Yes, of course,” said Cas all serious, and Dean realized he’d asked that out loud.
Yeah, he should have stopped drinking like a drink ago.
Cas got suddenly very close to his face and said “Is everything okay? Do you wanna go?” and Dean leaned forward to kiss him, because everything was okay, and it was Friday night after all, and that was still his favourite thing to do on a Friday night.
Not-Benny found them again and gave them flower garlands to wear for being newbies and Dean only itched to get rid of his for the first ten minutes, but then he didn’t and the itch disappeared. Also, Cas kept pulling him around with it and that felt especially nice.
They came out of there two hours later and Cas stopped him by the car to kiss him all sweet and soft right there in the parking lot.
Dean felt dizzy and happy and not at all too old.
They got breakfast at a diner on the way to the bunker and although Dean longed for his bed, the sight of Cas sitting across from him sipping on his coffee, his left side lighted by the rising sun was so nice that he also kind of wished he could stay there forever.
“We should get something for Sam,” said Cas in the end, so they got up, went back to the car and drove the rest of the way, speeding with the windows rolled down, humming those catchy songs that got stuck in their head.
Sam was yawning in the kitchen, waiting for his coffee to brew, when they appeared on the door. He had an amused expression on his face in two seconds when he saw them, “You guys are just coming in?”
Dean gave him his donut. Sam smiled at him and said, “Really nice garland, man. Cas sent a pic.”
Dean regretted giving him his donut. He scowled at Cas, “How do you even do that?” He hadn't even seen him using his phone.
Cas was stealing Sam’s coffee and pretended not to hear him, his back turned, doing the worst impression of the Invisible Man ever.
He also put a cup in Dean's hand though, so Dean stopped scowling at him. They got out of the kitchen right before Sam started lamenting, “Guys, you drank all my coffee!”
They collapsed in bed without undressing and Dean got to unbutton Cas’ baby blue shirt and slip a hand in to touch his skin, then bury his nose in his neck. He smelled of pineapple and coffee and still somehow of that cologne he’d sprayed himself with the night before.
"In my defence, you look very good in that picture," whispered Cas, sounding like he was one moment away from falling asleep.
Dean stayed awake for a while longer, basking in an unfamiliar state of quiet euphoria. He was smiling.
He was okay. He was.
@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES
