#maplecas

[profound-boning]

misha: @neil.tyson, my son is you for Halloween. He also wants to know what’s past the edge of our universe. (& “nothing” doesn’t cut it. I tried.)

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Last Kiss

13.02 coda, destiel, 669 words | dwlts

Dean opens his eyes into the darkness of his bedroom. The digital clock on his bedside table reads 1:58 AM in blinking lights. He doesn’t wonder about what woke him though, he knows.

Castiel is curled against his back, a wall of warmth from his nape to his calves. Dean can feel the rush of air at the knob of his spine, long fingers resting still against his naked hip, the press of knees against his legs felt through layers of cotton.

He tries not to change his breathing but not a minute later, he hears Cas’s gruff voice.

“Dean?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmh.” Cas grunts and squeezes Dean’s hip. “Was just dozing. Why are you up?”

“Dunno. Probably wanted to spoon or something.”

“Or something.” He feels Cas’s smile press against his shoulder, followed by a kiss.

He leans back and into the touch, into the soft and sturdy of Cas’s torso. He’s never felt safety like this before, never felt so utterly at peace just from proximity to a bedmate. Another person, yes, because Sam’s snores have been Dean’s lullaby for years. Sometimes it was the only thing keeping him going, back when they lived in an endless string of motels, when they rarely saw their dad, when Baby was the only home they had. Now, they have the Bunker. Sam is safe in his own room. They are grown, much older than Dean ever thought they could be, and they are happy.

Dean has Cas and he is happy.

He rolls over to face him, the fallen angel in his bed. The dimly lit room casts everything in shadow, highlighting his forehead and cheekbones and the blue of his eyes still shines like there might be Grace inside. With his arms curled up between them, he brushes one hand down Cas’s chest, feels the thumping heart beneath his ribs and his t shirt. Cas’s left arm is curled under his head but his right hand dances across Dean’s skin.

“Beloved,” Cas whispers, and Dean smiles. He presses his mouth to Cas’s in a tender kiss.

Their first kiss was not quite so relaxed. Arguing about a case and self-sacrificing bullshit when Cas grabbed him by the shoulders and planted one on him. A welcome interruption, and one that they repeated many times over the years. Sometimes it helped settle an argument or quiet an angry voice. Other times it just meant I need you.

Dean’s never enjoyed kissing so much before. It used to just be foreplay and now it can be the main event; it can be a whole conversation.

“I love you,” Cas whispers into the warm air between them. Dean knows it and cherishes it and kisses him again and again and—

Dean opens his eyes into the darkness of his bedroom. The digital clock on his bedside table reads 1:58 AM in blinking lights. He doesn’t wonder about what woke him though, he knows.

He’s curled up on his side, utterly alone and strangely cold.

Sam is down the hall, hopefully asleep, and Jack is doing whatever the hell Nephilim do. Dean’s at home in the Bunker but not in his bed. Not anymore.

“Cas,” he whispers into the silence. His heart, numb and cold in his chest, still stutters when there’s no response. He’ll never hear that once familiar response again, no matter how often he repeats Cas’s name.

He’d always thought they’d have more time. Once the Darkness was gone, once Lucifer was gone, maybe, maybe, maybe…

And now it’s too late. He’d put it off for too long and he’d never said it back.

Their last embrace is weeks past, their last conversation mere days ago, and now he’ll never know what could have been. From now until God only knows when, all he has is the memory of their last kiss.

Dean closes his eyes against the stillness and the dark of the room and he breaks a little more.

[profound-boning]

video originally posted to Snapchat by alwayskeepfightinthefairies

tweeted by licensedimpala

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Misha sneaked into the vendors room to give [Danneel] some love. #SPNNOLA

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from Alex’s Instagram story Oct 28 2017

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misha: My daughter and her bff are young environmentalists. They love unraveling tree pulp when I’m not looking.

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Hi friends!!

Hopefully this is working?? No wifi yet and I'm running on hella slow data. 🙃

The good news is Mr. Boning and I successfully flew to Costa Rica today and we're staying in this little apartment temporarily, hoping to find something else longer term over the next week or so! It's raining, of course, but we're oh so happy. 💕

I know the blog looks inactive but it's not!! Just busy with the move. Now that it's over, and especially once we have our own wifi, things will return to normal. 😊

Other happy side note is I was able to flesh out several writing things on my plate, so I am hoping to put out plenty of new work over the next month! Send me your good vibes. 😌

All my love.

[tinkdw]

in the whole dean-hates-spiders headcanon, PLEASE let it be true. I’d love to battle demons or more realistically stand eye to eye with a lion, but make me deal with a spider and I will stab myself. I HATE them. Fun fact there was a freakin huge one on the wall this evening and I still haven’t recovered. So yes pls dean afraid of spiders amen.

IKR?! That’s why I love that Sam is afraid of clowns and Dean is afraid of flying - it totally humanises them. 

What’s that quote, courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it....