Don’t think about Cas sitting somewhere by himself on a college campus just reading a book and Dean and a group of his friends walk by and Dean is just like,
“I bet I could get his number and a date in less than a minute.” And his friends are like, “haha, yeah right. He’s out of your league, Winchester. Novak’s don’t date. They just curve all the tests.” Then Dean goes, “I bet you $200 each. And I’ll even add in an extra bet that I’ll get HIM to kiss ME.”
So they take the bet and Dean just waltz over and sits down next to Cas and just smiles at him and says, “hey, sweetheart” then hands him his phone.
Seconds later Castiel just leans forward and kisses Dean on the lips and goes, “are you scamming your friends out of money with bets again? You know eventually they’ll figure out we’ve been dating for a little while.”
Then Dean just grins like, “And that’s when I’ll stop.”
Meanwhile Dean’s friends are just standing there in shock because what did they just see?
It’s Dean. It’s always Dean who’s engrossed in the idea of cuddling. Yeah, that probably would come to a surprise to some but it’s true. Dean likes the idea of having someone in his arms– being in someone’s arms. The idea of that type of security and warmth just appeals to him on a level that he can’t really explain.
But none of that matters, he likes it and Castiel loves that. That’s how they end up in bed on Sunday’s and never being functioning productive adults.
Castiel is an early riser. He’s up before the sun regardless of the fact that Dean thinks that’s demonic activity to be awake before noon. But who’s being rational here? He isn’t.
Dean, despite his dead sleeps, is actually a very light sleeper. Contradiction perhaps but it makes sense when you’re Dean. He sleeps hard but if you disrupt his sleep with just the slightest movement that indicates leaving the bed, he’ll wake up.
Just like that, eyes snapping open and arms shooting out to wrap around whatever he can get ahold on. Usually it’s fingertips grazing over Cas’ t-shirt, if he’s wearing one, in an attempt to stop him but he misses and drops to the man’s boxers since he’s not wearing a shirt.
Castiel falters and finds himself plopping back down to the bed, underwear hanging off his hips. So he whispers, “I have laundry to do. I have class tomorrow.”
Dean shakes his head and throws a leg over Cas’ and slips his arms around him then scoots close. His hands slide up his torso, fingertips tracing over warm, smooth skin while his face presses into Cas’ neck. “Laundry can wait.” Dean hums, tapping light patterns over his boyfriend’s ribs.
Castiel lays there for a moment before relaxing. He ‘needs’ to get up and get things done but he WANTS to lay here for an eternity pressed against Dean.
Moments later he throws his head back and smiles. “What will we wear tomorrow?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not appro–” he pauses when he catches on. “Oh.”
Dean grins against his neck while his hands slide down to Castiel’s hips. He doesn’t stop though, he keeps going, taking the light fabric down with his thumbs.
Now they’re naked and engulfed in the heat from their bodies, tangled and content with their sleepy state.
It’s Sunday.
What college student actually gets things done on cold mornings in early January?
Surprisingly, it’s Castiel. He curses a lot more than anyone could imagine. It’s something shocking because Castiel always comes off as this really quiet conservative type. The one who’s soft spoken and so eloquent with his actions and with his words.
But he has a potty mouth.
And Dean loves it.
When Cas spits profanity, it’s always unexpected. Dean finds it funny most of the times. Other times, he finds it a turn on. You know like when Castiel is studying and realizes he’s missed something that was vital for an exam and he just goes, “fuck.”
It’s smooth but aggressive at the same time, he’s irritated and the word just rolls off his tongue like silk.
“Fuck.” He says again, louder this time.
Dean swoons.
Then there’s times when they’re having sex and Dean is touching him just right, hands gripping hips and thrusts nice and slow. Castiel just moans, rocking quickly, grinding down like his life depends on it with a, “shit! Fuck me harder.”
And Dean just loses it.
On occasions, there’s murmurs of, “asshole…” at inanimate objects for the blatant disrespect of something falling or malfunctioning.
Then, “damn,” or a soft, “son of a bitch” followed by, “I fucking love you, Dean Winchester.”
It’s Dean. Dean loves nothing more than seeing Castiel dressed in his clothes. He discovers this when Castiel spends the night at his house for the first time
Dean and Castiel have been friends since grade school but they’ve been neighbor’s since they were born.
It wasn’t hard for them to mesh together despite what everyone always said. “Winchester and Novak? They’re complete opposites.” But one class together and it was history in the making.
It wasn’t unknown to who these two were. By high school, Dean was known as the guy who was friends with everyone. Friendly smile, pretty face, and reputation of having a liking for pretty eyes, dark hair, and a nice body. Male or female.
Castiel was the smart kid with a weird sense of humor that was pretty well liked. You’d think those two ran in different circles but they still found one another.
So it wasn’t really a surprise when everyone heard rumors about Castiel and Dean being a little more than just friends.
But that was just what they were- friends.
Until Castiel is standing in the middle of his bedroom wearing nothing but Dean’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Just his Led Zeppelin t-shirt.
For clarity and peace of mind, Dean can honestly say that he hadn’t planned any of this. He can’t control the weather so there was no way that he knew Castiel would get caught in the rain and soaked through his clothes.
He also didn’t know that Castiel would just strip right in front of him without a second thought.
“Dude!” Dean shouts, turning his head in favor of glancing randomly at one of his posters on the wall. He’s telling himself not to look but he keeps looking.
He keeps looking out the corner of his eyes.
He scans over toned legs, exposed firm thighs, broad shoulders, exquisite chest. Soaked messy hair, bright blue eyes, his…
“Dude…” He wonders when Castiel stopped being that scrawny kid who wore button ups.
Running. Running track was doing Castiel VERY well.
“What?” Castiel answers as he drops his wet shirt to the floor with the rest of his clothes. He’s naked. “I’ll clean up the water.” And he will. Just after he gets dry. “Can I though? You didn’t answer my question.
"Can you what?” Dean repeats. “Can you not give me a heart attack by being naked in my room…?” He says under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing. What are you taking about?”
“Can I borrow some clothing from you please?”
“Yeah, sure. Take what ya need. Just uh, you know uh, stop being so… naked.”
Castiel stares at Dean for a moment before moving past him and over to the drawers. He’s not awkward when it comes to this. Dean is his best friend after all. Has been since they were little. They’ve seen each other naked before and even if they hadn’t, Castiel is far from shy when it comes to this. At least when it’s around Dean. Dean is the one person he feels the most comfortable with.
“Thank you.” He says as he goes through the first drawer. He pulls out a heather gray shirt that’s probably a size too big. It has a guitar on it, a faded one with lyrics that he can’t place printed across the back. He knows it’s a band shirt. He knows the band because he’s seen Dean in pretty much all of those shirts so far.
“Shit.” Dean murmurs to himself, averting his eyes. He doesn’t know where to look. Hell, he doesn’t even know what to do with his hands. He’s fidgeting, fingers tapping and fiddling with anything he can get to. He’s anxious and wants to explore. Wants to touch.
Yet he’s nervous and this is foreign territory for him.
Especially since this is Castiel.
“Are we still going to watch a movie?” He asks, pulling the shirt down over his head. “ I remember you texting me earlier about something that you said I desperately needed to watch.”
“Cas,” Dean breathes. “Dude.” He just stares at his friend now. “Um.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head. “I need you to put underwear on ASAP.”
Castiel tilts his head for a moment before closing the drawer and opening the next one. He rummages through it for a few seconds before he pulls out the first pair of bottoms that he sees. “Okay.”
They’re black. They’re black form fitting underwear. They fit Castiel surprisingly well. They hug his thighs, his ass, his everything.
Dean is still staring. He’s not sure if this is any better- actually it’s worse and he’s laughing again. “Well shit. I guess Benny was right.”
Castiel raises a brow. “Right about what?”
Dean steps closer, “well,” he pauses and leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to Castiel’s. “Right that I’m definitely Cas-sexual.”
Evenings where he’s snowed in with Dean and classes are cancelled, Castiel can’t help but want to have all of Dean’s attention.
And let’s face it, he’ll get it.
“Cas…” Dean grumbles as he types away on his laptop. He’s got a ten page paper due tomorrow and by the grace of whoever, they have an impromptu snow day. He counts his blessings because it was due today and he had already come up with four top notch excuses as to why he couldn’t turn it in but it’s okay, he basically has an extra day.
“Yes?” Castiel finally answers, studying the faces that Dean has been making for the past hour.
“I mean, not for nothin’ but in my distinctive knowledge about these things, no guy ever could finish a paper with someone’s foot that close to their junk.” He tears his gaze from the screen and looks at Castiel who’s got his foot between Dean’s legs under the table.
Castiel smiles, foot sliding from the chair and hitting the floor with a thud. “Innocent coincidence.”
“I’m sure.”
“It was.”
“Un-huh. And I’m the Easter bunny.”
They go silent before Dean returns to tapping away on the laptop. He’s a few bullshitted pages away from being done with this nightmarish paper when Castiel finally stands and wanders off somewhere.
It’s quiet now.
Dean feels slightly guilty, like he’s neglecting Castiel but he knows his boyfriend isn’t mad. Still, there’s that inkling of doubt floating around in his head.
Well, an inkling of doubt until he feels fingertips tracing down the back of his neck. He shivers, wondering how this clumsy dork just snuck up behind him that quietly.
That curiosity fades when that hand is moving down his chest and now there’s lips brushing over his neck. “Cas.” He breathes out shakily, fingers fidgeting over the keyboard. “I need to finish this shit.”
He can’t focus.
“Considering the current state of the weather,” Castiel whispers. “The probability of another closed campus is high.” He smiles and moves around the chair and stands beside Dean.
Dean deliberately keeps his eyes on the screen, even when his computer chair is being spun around some. “Yeah, possibly.” His eyes scan over the same sentence four times before he feels Castiel move between his legs.
“So you will be able to finish those last pages in the morning.” He smiles and brings his hands up to his hips. “Of course, the slight chance that campus isn’t closed, your paper wouldn’t technically be due until the day AFTER tomorrow. Your professor wanted hard copies correct?”
Dean nods as his eyes follow Castiel’s hands. He’s trapped now. He can’t look away when Castiel’s fingers are gliding over the button to his stupid corduroy pants. Or when he’s pulling down the zipper and wiggling his hips to push them down.
Suddenly Dean’s breathing a little harder and his hand is twitching, tapping the arm of the chair.
“Therefore,” he starts while his pants slide down his thighs and drops to his ankles. “Therefore you have two days. A day and an half at the least. Regardless, you have plenty time, Dean.”
Dean clears his throat. The way Castiel says his name is sinfully illegal. He tries to clear it again but his throat is dry now. Castiel has stepped out of his pants and his hands are moving slowly up his thighs, then his hips, flicking the waistband of his underwear before his reaches his sides. He keeps moving up but he’s taking the ends of his sweater vest with him.
Once that blue heap of fabric hits the floor, Castiel starts undoing the buttons on his shirt and Dean has never wanted to rip a shirt more than he does right now.
“So I suggest taking a break and spending some quality time with me. If you want of course.” He down casts his gaze to his shirt and undoes the last button. The shirt falls open and he can see where Dean’s eyes go. They start at his eyes, then start to drop south. His mouth, his chest, his stomach, his…
“Do you agree, Dean?”
Dean shifts in his seat and reaches up, touching Castiel’s thighs. Why not? Castiel wouldn’t be between his legs if he wasn’t allowed to touch.
“Well?”
Dean smirks and brings his eyes back up to Cas’. “Well fuck yeah, Cas.”
“Okay, good.” He looks down at Dean with the most endearing look and shakes off the shirt until he’s only clad in his underwear. “Let’s do proper research for your paper now that I have your full attention. I’ve found several sources for your citing page that you can use. Also, I can proof read what you have so far.”
Dean’s eyes snap up and he makes some sort of disapproving squeaky sound. “What?”
“You didn’t think I’d let you turn in some atrocity that you bullshitted overnight? It’s called a strip tease for a reason, Dean.”
@lovefromdean said I could use the same prompt she did!!!
[This actually more like a continuation of her story.]
Inspired by the prompt: Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well.
Hey, squad, how’s this one? @lovefromdean @deanandhiscas @cains-mane
Dean had spent most of his life feeling left out. He lost his mother. His dad had shut him out emotionally. He never stayed at the same school very long, He was part of a community, but that entire community lived outside of traditional society.
Maybe he should be grateful. Maybe he should be happy that he never had to deal with the same teacher for too long, or have to deal with the drama of friends for years at a time. Maybe he should just be happy with what he had.
For a while, he was.
Then Sam got his first marks. Sam got little, scribbly flowers and vines beginning at his fingertips and continuing up his arm. Sam got little notes on where the art club was meeting or where a book was in a library.
Sam got Jess.
Dean looked at his own arms and saw nothing. Nothing had ever appeared on his skin. Nothing had ever woke him up in the middle of the night with an unbearable itch on his left arm.
Whenever he got really tired or stressed or upset, he would think about it, think about how messed up he must be to never get any marks. He would feel ghost tingles and feel even worse.
When Sam ran off to college, Dean was certain to keep an eye on him… and Jess. They were adorable together and Dean really couldn’t complain. The girl did Sam some good and she reminded him of Mom.
—
Dean sat in the bunker’s library. He was peering over a page, looking for anything that could help him get Cas back. It was this sort of thing that made him wonder if he was going crazy.
He had read the same page over and over and over hoping the answer would just appear- wasn’t that the definition of insanity?
Dropping his forehead to the table with a loud thud, he drew Sam’s attention from his laptop. “Sam, why are we doing this?”
“Because it needs to be done.” Sam’s fingers pecked away at the keys. “No one else will do it.”
Lifting his head and finding it heavier than he had ever remembered it being, Dean rolled his eyes. “But why us? Anyone could have been given this screwed up life. There are other hunters. Why do we always have to be the ones that deal with the apocalypse or God or Lucifer?!”
Sam gently closed his computer and looked over his brother’s face. “Well, we were chosen, by the demons, by the angels, heck, by God even. Dean, what’s really going on?”
There was a beat of silence.
“I’m tired, Sammy. So tired.”
Dean could almost feel the tears behind his eyes. Look at that, the world finally found Dean’s breaking point.
Swallowing, Sam looked around the library. “I’m sure we’ll find something in here.”
“But we won’t.”
“Dean…”
“But, we won’t!” Dean stood up. “The devil’s won.”
There was a strech of silence when the brothers just looked at each other. Dean’s eyes turned half-lidded, weighed down with defeat. Sam looked like he still wanted to argue. He would’ve made a damn good lawyer.
Suddenly, Dean’s brain was there again. Suddenly, he was thinking about it again. His fingers twitched at his side with ghost tingles. “What was Jess like?”
Taking Sam by surprise was an accomplishment all on its own, but leaving him speechless was even better.
Dean sighed and sat back down. He pushed the books further down the table and reached across to slide Sam’s laptop in the same direction. He settled in before repeating the question, “What was Jess like?”
“She was everything.”
They fell into silence. Dean tried to figure out what that meant. He’d never had a soulmate, not like that. He had gotten something with Lisa. He had gotten something with Cassie. But, neither of those somethings were soulmates.
“Being around her made me so angry and so happy. I was never close enough. I was never good enough. I wanted to crawl into her skin and never leave.”
Dean nodded. With Cassie, he’d never wanted to leave and he never felt good enough, but he always maintained a certain amount of space. With Lisa, he hadn’t maintained space and never felt good enough, but he had always felt like he didn’t belong, like he wanted to leave.
“I never wanted her to change.”
Cas. Don’t ever change.
Dean turned his eyes on his hands resting on the table. He wondered if he looked long enough if he could see the tremors caused by the ghost tingles.
He had never felt good enough to be Cas’ friend. He wanted to maintain space but he couldn’t. He was always devastated when they were apart, when he would leave, when Cas would.
Dean’s fingers twitched visibly with the faux tingles. The world liked to play tricks and this one was particularly cruel.
When Sam spoke, it was as if it were muted. “Dean, have you ever gotten any marks?”
The muscles in Dean’s neck twitched, the ones that would be responsible for shaking his head, but his head didn’t move.
Sam’s shoulders deflated. He opened his mouth but ended up closing it again; he didn’t know what to say.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean decided that he would try to sleep a bit, put all of this behind him. Sleep until the world had righted itself. Sleep until he couldn’t feel the tingles anymore. He stood to go to his room.
He froze.
The ghost tingling in his arm was getting stronger, mocking him with more fervor that ever before. He grit his teeth in anger.
“Dean, your hand.” Sam stood abruptly, knocking his chair back in the process.
Finally peeking at his hand, Dean watched in awe as small scribbles appeared on the back of his hand. Little notes in blue pen ink.
38° 50′ 34.05″ N,
76° 56′ 23.05″ W,
tree of knowledge?
Dean stared at it.
Sam was the first to speak. “I think we have a lead as to where Lucifer may go.” He leaned over his computer and put in the coordinates. “It’s a storage facility for the Smithsonian in Maryland.” He nodded once at his computer. “We should head out; we don’t know when he’ll be there.”
Dean was still struck in place.
“Come on, Dean, Lucifer has wings. They move much faster than we do.” He closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm. Slowing down, Sam seemed to realize the weight of what just happened. “Are you okay?”
Blinking multiple times, Dean tried to swallow a lump in his throat. “I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“You and Cas are practically inseparable; it can’t be that much of a surprise.”
“No, but… it’s Jimmy and it’s Lucifer and it’s Cas and…”
Sam grabbed his shoulder with the hand not holding his computer in place. “Don’t overthink this. That’s Cas’ vessel, made specifically for Cas, Jimmy-free. Jimmy probably wrote on himself as a kid and Amelia got the messages. Didn’t Claire say that they were soulmates? They’re religious; of course, they’re soulmates. And Lucifer…”
He kept blabbering on, but Dean stopped listening. He was still trying to figure out exactly why the world played these cruel tricks on him. He had never known that Cas was his soulmate while Cas was Cas or while they were near each other or… ever, not until Cas was possessed by the Devil. Part of Dean wondered if some higher-up on the chain-of-command noticed that he’d almost given up and pulled some strings. Part of Dean wondered if this was part of the master plan all along.
Feeling anger bubble up through his shock, Dean huffed and turned, marching to his room. Whatever the universe had in mind, he didn’t really care at the moment. All he cared about was getting Cas back. “Get packed.”
Sam rushed around him to his room, but, before he closed his door, he turned around to Dean with a worried expression. “What do you think it means that Lucifer had to write something down?”
“That it’s probably a trap.” Dean growled. “But, I’ll take what I can get. That bastard won’t know what’s coming.”
Tagged by @casseil the absolute sweetheart!!!! (your extract was lovely omg i wanna read it) ♥
The rules are as follows: go to page 7 of a WIP, skip to the 7th line, share 7 lines (or however much you want) and tag 7 more writers to continue the challenge.
“Because you want to know why,” Castiel answered, nonplussed, and stepped even closer- so much so that Dean’s gun was almost touching his chest, just above his heart. “Why I saved you, when nobody else made it out that day. Why you.”
And with that, he turned away and started striding back down the alleyway, trench coat billowing out behind him.
“Wait, wait!” Dean shouted, taking a few seconds to realise he was running to catch up. The man - Angel - Castiel - who fuckin’ knew- didn’t hesitate, but Dean had barely even been able to take in the situation he’d been put in before the guy was leaving.
....a bit of the next chapter of adsob, which should >really< hopefully be posted sooner rather than later :’’’’’/
i tag @almaasi @museaway @osirisjones @flightlesscas +any other writer who wants to do it (and you guys i tagged don’t have to if you don’t want to)
