Summary: Dean Winchester will never be the perfect HouseOmega his father wishes he would be. He’s destined to be the arm candy of one of the wealthy Alphas his father is procuring for him. Answering an advertisement from a widowed Alpha looking for an Omega to be his mate and to help raise his pups out West may be the riskiest thing Dean’s ever done. But for the chance to be free of the constraints put upon him by his father and city society, it would be worth it!
Go West young man really meant something now that the railways were laying track and steamers could make it up the Missouri. At the end of an arduous journey Dean’s excited to meet his intended. But, Castiel Novak is not the man he was in his letters. He seems to be one of the most reserved Alphas Dean has ever met. Will he be able to crack his new Alpha’s shell? Or has he just traded one societal prison for another?
Comments: 7/10. It’s cute and quite fluffy and domestic. Kudos to the author for keeping in the period talk language throughout the whole fic, I’m impressed even though I have no idea if it’s accurate. The plot is really simple, and it’s ridiculously domestic. Manifest Destiny frontier homestead domestic, but domestic nonetheless. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t like children fics or historical fics that much, or something else, but this reads a little dull to me. Probably just me though. It’s tagged as Harlequin and I am decidedly not a Harlequin novel type of person. I don’t know why but I expected a lot more sexual tension.
Summary: A series of ficlets taking place in the universe spawned by this tumblr post:
"Whelp I’m stuck imagining an AU where Cain is Cas’ dad and together they raise bees and make honey and wax candles in the middle of nowhere, Kansas - and Cain is totally onto that young hooligan who just moved here for some reason with his black monstrosity of a car and his leather jacket and who has the gall of making Cain’s boy smile, honestly, what the Hell, you better watch your back, boy, I’m watching you *squints*"
Not in chronological order.
Comments: 8/10. 50 chapters of pure fluff. Not much plot and no smut, just sweet domestic fluff. Perfect for a pick-me-up after a particularly angsty fic. I feel that it is a little too long to read in one go though, the unending domestic fluff can get a little repetitive, so I recommend taking a break once in a while.
Because I was inspired when I went to PEI. Farmer/Beekeeper!Cas, tourist!Dean.
PS. Charlottetown does have the smallest, shittiest farmer’s market on weekends, and I’ve been to conference dinners. They’re awesome and people don’t normally choke :P
"Sam, seriously?"
The Sasquatch and his girlfriend turn in sync, but while Sam makes an unimpressed face, Jess merely waves Dean over like this isn't the five hundredth farmer's market they've dragged him to, and it isn't nine in the morning. The merry asshole duo hadn't even given him a choice when they'd woken him up this morning; he'd just been dragged up the street to this tiny little coffee place called Kettle Black, and been forced to tag along... just like he'd been forced to come on this 'vacation'. It isn't even that, really; Jess has a conference in Prince Edward Island almost every year, and Sam goes along with her. Normally, they leave him behind (and rightly so), but for some reason, Sam thought it'd be a good idea to bring Dean this time. By plane.
PEI is all farmland and picturesque towns, and Dean has been wholly unimpressed. He's been unimpressed with their hippie, organic rabbit food, and their fancy pants microbreweries (who needs so many???) and their dumb farmer's markets. Dean has had enough.
It's nine am on a Saturday and instead of being in bed, he's at the tiniest, shittiest farmer's market known to man, so yeah, he's done.
Done.
He doesn't care how nice the rolling hills and ocean views are; they're ruined by the rental car, and every fry is ruined by the fact that Dean knows they're local, organic potatoes. Even the pie sucks because it's hipster, hippie bullshit, even if it tastes awesome.
"I could be in bed right now," he grumbles to himself. Kettle Black had some damn good coffee and scones (scones! Where are the eggs?! The bacon?!), but he's ready for a nap.
"Dean, come on, live a little!" Jess declares while picking up a lavender-scented soap made to look like a potato—a potato. "You're in the maratimes!"
"Oh, hey, babe, smell this..."
Dean rolls his eyes and moves to the next stall. Honey.
"Hello..."
Dude looks like a bonafide farmer.
The rest of the people selling their wares are at least dressed in normal clothes... but this guy? He's wearing a straw hat and worn jean overalls. A dirt-smeared white shirt is rolled to the elbows under the ensemble, and Dean briefly thinks the poor dude must be dying in the heat and humidity. He looks squeamish, too, like he doesn't want to be where he is, but Dean gives a charming smile anyway. He's kinda cute in his own way. If nothing else, his blue eyes are gorgeous. "Hi."
Rumpled Farmer gives a little nod and stares at him, unblinking.
It's a little unnerving.
"So, uh, you sell honey, huh?" Dean asks, awkward.
Rumpled Farmer nods again before squinting into the distance. Silence stretches out between them, stifling, before he opens his lips to speak: "Would you like to try some?"
"Sure," Dean shrugs, wondering why he's awake and talking to some awkward rustic cute guy instead of running back to the hotel and sleeping. "Nothin' much else to do around here is there?"
Rumpled Farmer doesn't reply as he turns around and busies himself with a popsicle stick and a couple of jars. He returns with the thing overloaded in golden honey. "This is strawberry honey." He speaks as if that single fact is detrimental to Dean's survival. "It's our most popular."
"Thanks."
Dean brings the stick up to his mouth.
Like he' suddenly remembered he should try and be social, Rumpled Farmer pastes a smile on his face. It looks forced and crooked, but Dean figures he can give the guy points for trying. "Where are you from?"
Holy shit, the honey's damn good.
"Kansas," Dean replies, going back to lick at the rest of his treat. "Fuck, this is awesome. D'you make all of it?"
"The bees do all the hard work." Rumpled Farmer gets even cuter when a bashful shrug punctuates his sentence. With the way the bridge of his nose and apples of his cheeks pink, he's actually pretty friggin' adorable, Dean decides.
"Give yourself some credit, dude," he says, and reaches for a strawberry jar. "That why you're dressed like Farmer Brown? You the bee whisperer?"
Rumpled Farmer looks down at his clothing, his dark brows pinched in a frown. "...My brother usually runs the booth, but he's trying to fix our internet at the moment."
"What's wrong with it?"
A hand that does not look like it's used for manual labour waves around absently. "The signal drops in and out. I don't really use the computer other than to do administrative work, and I don't really require the internet for that, so I don't suffer. But my brother uses it for porn, which he claim he needs in order to survive." There's a slight pause here, during which Rumpled Farmer smiles more genuinely, like he didn't just talk about his sibling's porn habits to a complete stranger. "And I mostly find that speaking at a normal conversational volume is sufficient."
"...Sufficient," Dean repeats, bewildered. "Sufficient...?"
"You called me a bee whisperer," Rumpled Farmer replies. "I don't normally whisper to them."
"Oh... right." A frown. "That's actually a movie reference. You talk to the bees and get them to make awesome honey, just like that dude that can talk to horses in the horse whisperer. That guy doesn't get his horse to make honey, but y'know. Same thing."
Rumpled Farmer's smile slips almost unnoticeably. "Apologies," he says, cheeks blooming pink. "I'm afraid I don't know much about popular culture."
"S'okay, it was a pretty obscure reference anyway." It wasn't, but the white lie is worth the big grin on Rumpled Farmer's face. "Sides, long as you've seen Star Wars, you're okay in my book."
Rumpled Farmer has a nice, strong jaw, Dean thinks absently as the man shakes his head, embarrassed. Teeth close on top of the former's bottom lip and Dean's gaze is drawn to the movement. "I haven't."
"Indiana Jones?"
Another head shake.
"Pulp Fiction?"
Nope.
"Have you ever even seen a movie?"
Rumpled Farmer rolls his eyes. "Of course I have. I enjoyed Forrest Gump greatly."
So at least he's seen Forrest Gump.
"Right on," Dean murmurs, trailing off. His brain obviously shuts down between the end of that sentence and the next, because then he's saying: "Well, hey, I'm at the Delta for another week and there's a great TV, maybe you could come over and watch something."
Dean did not just ask a farmer back to his hotel room.
"Or not," he rushes to say. "We could go to your place."
Not better. Not better.
"I mean, I could fix your internet."
Rumpled Farmer raises a brow, head tilted to the side, and Dean wonders when the ground is gonna open up and swallow him whole. That would certainly be a kinder fate than dying from embarrassment.
"Gabriel usually manages to fix it," Rumpled Farmer says carefully. He sounds as if he's choosing every word, though Dean doesn't knows if that's 'cause the guy is nervous, or he's looking for a way to let Dean down easy. "But you're welcome to visit the farm any time. I'm rarely in town so you wouldn't even have to call ahead."
Rumpled Farmer's fingers are fidgeting and Dean notes the motion with interest. Looks like he's nervous after all.
"Awesome." A smile. "D'you have a card or something?"
Those graceful, gorgeous hands pat down an overall-covered chest and hips while Rumpled Farmer blushes hotly. "I, um, sorry, it appears I left them on my kitchen table, um..."
The dude whirls around, quickly ripping off a piece of bee stationary from a nearby pad and grabbing one of those green pens with a fake daisy blooming from the end. He clears his throat in a dignified manner before writing in the goddamn nicest script Dean has ever seen.
"Here." Rumpled Farmer hands over the paper and their fingers brush. Dean can briefly feel buttersoft skin and small calluses before he's pulling away.
"So, I'll see you later," he grins.
Rumpled Farmer ducks his head and smiles. "I look forward to it."
"Cool."
"Alright."
Neither move.
It's Sam, of all people, that has to jolt Dean out of his stupid, goofy smile; dragging him along through the rest of the market so they can pick up a couple of things for breakfast. Dean, meanwhile, is too giddy to care about whether or not he'll eat fresh strawberries.
It's only when they get back to the hotel that he realizes he never got Rumpled Farmer's name.
***
Dean agonizes over his piece of bee stationary for two whole days before he's snapped out of it. He's been invited (read: dragged) to the nerd banquet the conference puts on, and if all you can eat lobster and oysters serve to detract from his fuck up with Rumpled Farmer (how is he supposed to call him if they never exchanged names? How would a person even start that conversation: "hey, I'm Dean. The creeper that invited himself over to your farm and then forgot to introduce himself? That's me." No.), the fact that the dinner is in a recreated pioneer village definitely does the trick.
Until, of course, Dean goes to get oysters.
Because apparently Rumpled Farmer doesn't only own a farm, he also shucks oysters and gives Dean heart palpitations.
Fuck.
The guy is also really absorbed in his work, because Dean lurks around for a good minute without him noticing anything. Dean actually feels that he has time to eat an oyster before Rumpled Farmer hits him with those crazy blue eyes, and so reaches for one.
Of course, while Dean is slurping his shellfish, Rumpled Farmer notices him.
"Oh! Hello."
And because Dean is smooth as fuckin' sandpaper, he chokes. Mildly.
There’s a mild choking scenario going on.
Luckily, he manages to get it under control before people feel compelled to intervene. Namely, the blue-eyed farmer-oyster-shucker that Dean literally cannot believe he’s made an ass of himself in front of again.
"Are you alright?"
Dean waves him off, steadying himself on the table just as Rumpled Farmer’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. This almost gives Dean a heart attack and is, therefore, completely unhelpful.
“I’m Dean,” he gasps out the minute his airway is clear. Standing upright, the green-eyed man tries to put on a charming smile, but really only manages to look vaguely nauseous. Probably because he is.
“Are you alri—?”
“Yeah!” Dean replies brightly. “Yeah, I’m great. I’m great and fine and… yep, pretty great. What’s uh...” He rubs the back of his neck, smiling in thanks when Rumpled Farmer hands him a cup of water. “What’s your name?”
Though Rumpled Farmer’s smile it’s small, it somehow manages to brighten his entire face. “Castiel,” he replies, reaching forward to slide their palms together. “But you may call me Cas.” Though it’s a little weird for ‘Cas’ to be randomly holding his hand instead of shaking it like a normal person, Dean gets this goofy grin on his face.
***
Dean spends the rest of the night with Cas.
While the other dinner-goers small talk and munch on mini sausages and fancy cheese, Dean hangs out near the oyster table. He takes his main course with Cas outside, and helps him take his stuff back to the truck when it’s time to clean up. They then sit in the bed of the pickup and share leftover saltines, hands intertwined.
Dean stays with Cas long after the conference buses have gone back the hotel, and gets driven back in the farmer’s rickety vehicle in the early hours of the morning. Before getting out of the car, he forces himself to lean forward before he can freak out about doing so, and presses his lips to Cas’s cheek. Castiel turns his head so they’re kissing properly, and smiles all sweet and serene when they drift apart. “You’ll call?” he asks softly, fingers moving to brush at Dean’s jaw.
Dean grins. “Fuck yeah, you’re gonna get so sick of me—mmph!”
Cas doesn’t pull out of the lot for another fifteen minutes.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jo Harvelle/Sam Winchester
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle, Jody Mills, Krissy Chambers
Additional Tags: Age Difference, First Time, Reunions, Fluff, Smut, Bottom Dean, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Bounty Hunter Dean, Bartender Dean, Farmer Castiel
Summary:
Ten years ago Dean spent the summer working on Castiel Novak's farm to earn some extra money. That was the most memorable three months of his life, and now that he has an opportunity to go back to that small town, he's hopeful that he'll meet Castiel again and maybe see if the old flame can be rekindled.
