#married!destiel

[diminuel]

The Winchesters of Camp Chitaqua.

I’m rewatching Supernatural and I got in the mood for some happy endverse. I imagine a setting in which they managed to save Sam and stop the Croatoan virus, but the world is still a mess and now begins the long road of rebuilding.

[thekingslover]

“Come on, stud,” she says to Dean, tugging on his wrist. “I choose you tonight.”

Dean flashes her his sharpest smile, playboy facade in place. It comes back on instinct more than desire. He’s played this role before. He’s stood in these same shoes so many times they barely have any sole left.

The neon beer signs are too bright, blinding against the dim overhead lights in the bar. The beer on the counter before him is full, recently ordered, and cold in his hand. The condensation puddles along his fingers, catching in the dip around his ring.

How easy it would be to follow her daisy dukes and cowboy boots out to the parking lot. So easy to brush the hair back from her bare shoulders and kiss her neck. Easy to pretend that’s all he needs. At one point in his life, it was.

But that had been before.

She’s too young for him, in both age and spirit. That’s only the start of the list of wrong things.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean says, as gently as he can. She has a devilish look that promises a good time, and she’s generous to offer that time to Dean. It’s not her fault Dean’s already been claimed body and soul. “I hung up my spurs a long time ago.”

“Oh?” Her bottom lip pushes out, a tempting lure even to a married man. Dean gives her credit, but that’s all she’s getting.

He dips his head toward a tall table against the wall. Cas has both elbows on the tabletop, face scrunched as he taps his thumbs over a cell phone. Candy Crush has become his latest foe to vanquish, last on the list after a slew of demons, Lucifer, and God himself.

Daisy Dukes has no idea how outmatched she is. “That guy?”

Dean, not for the first time, tries to see Cas the way the rest of the world must - nerdy guy in an ill-fitting suit, wrapped in an old overcoat. Frowning at the phone, he has a little line between his brow. Must be a tough level.

But even as he’s trying to see Cas as she does, he knows he’s coming up short. He can’t look at Cas and not see the coat he carried around in his car for a year, the one he desperately searched for in the wilds of Purgatory. Or the blue tie that Dean’s shown him how to put on straight enough times now that he knows Cas does it wrong on purpose. Or the intensity of those eyes, smiting candy squares now, that when focused on Dean, make the rest of the world disappear. Or the love that floods out of him so deeply that Dean, drowning, almost believes he deserves it.

“That’s the love of my life,” Dean tells Daisy Dukes.

Her fingers unhook from Dean’s wrist, but she continues to stand there, looking at Cas and then at him. “That guy.”

Dean makes a point to scratch his chin with his left hand, flashing his wedding ring. She’s probably already seen. Probably wouldn’t matter much, most times, in a place like this.

“I’d marry him again tomorrow if he wanted,” Dean says.

She hums. Her hands find her hips and she searches his face. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but after a moment, her smile softens and her shoulders slump.

“Lucky,” she says and wanders off. It doesn’t take her long to find another guy at the bar. With the way this one leans into her, she’s found someone more willing.

Dean plucks the beer from the counter and heads back to the table. He places it with a thunk in front of Cas. Cas moves a couple more candy pieces and then turns off the screen.

“You win, angel?” Dean asks. He takes a swig from his own beer which he left behind to refill Cas. It’s warm now, but he swallows it down.

“They keep adding new levels.” Cas glares at where he’s placed the phone, screen down on the corner of the table. “I’m beginning to think victory is unobtainable.”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean teases. His smile is easy, the playboy facade long gone. “You’re no quitter.”

Fire burns hot in Cas’s eyes. If he had any angel mojo left, the phone no doubt would burst into flames. “I will win.” He says it like a vow, with the same intensity he gave fighting monsters, or when he took Dean’s hand in front of a judge and promised to love him beyond even death.

“Cas,” Dean says, and Cas looks up. The fire dims a little, but only so love can replace it.

“Yes, Dean?”

Now that he has Cas’s full attention, Dean hesitates. What seemed like a good idea a moment ago, he now worries Cas won’t like.

Cas, patient always for Dean, maybe too much, sits and waits. Dean knows he’ll wait all night.

Dean won’t make him do that again. “I was thinking...”

Cas starts to smile. “A dangerous prospect.” He’s teasing, and it takes the edge off. He probably did that on purpose. He knows Dean sometimes better than Dean knows himself.

Dean winks at first, returning the smile, but then he leans forward and takes Cas’s hands in his. He wants him to know he’s serious.

“Dean?”

“Marry me,” Dean says.

“Dean.” Cas blinks. “We are already married.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but...” They married in a rush, speeding to the Courthouse five minutes after Dean had asked the last time. Sam sat in the back in his pajamas. Dean wore a Zeppelin t-shirt. It had been a whirlwind and perfect but. But. “I kinda want to do it right, you know? With everyone there.”

Cas watches him, silent for a heartbeat and two. Then he starts to smile again, that quiet, secret smile he shares a lot with Dean, and Dean knows he has him.

“We could get new suits,” Dean says. “Have a big party.”

“I would like that, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand. “Yes,” he says, a vow.

At the door, Daisy Dukes is pulling Mr. Willing into the parking lot. He’s got a smile like he won the lottery. For tonight, maybe he has.

But Dean? Here with Cas, Dean hits the jackpot everyday.

“I love you, Cas.” The words come so easily, Dean can’t believe he ever had trouble saying them.

Cas brings Dean’s hand to his mouth. He kisses each knuckle and then the ring. “And I, you.”

[november5th]

Here’s a random Destiel Drabble inspired by the thought of kid!Jack turning five. A little glimpse into their silly lives-

Cas is wiping down the kitchen table when Dean comes home with the last minute party supplies; a large bag of ice and a dozen hot pink helium balloons. Spying the remnants of finger paint that Cas hasn’t yet gotten to, Dean asks “Did he make some more decorations?”

“Yes, turns out we forgot to hang a poster in the guest bathroom.” Cas answers, with a smile on his face. In the last week leading up to his fifth birthday, Jack has made signs, labels, posters and banners for just about every surface in the house.

“Crap, I guess we can kiss our party planning careers goodbye then. What were we thinking?” Dean says dramatically, gently letting the balloons rest against the ceiling and setting the ice down in the sink. Then he makes his way towards his husband for a kiss. Cas leans against him but then pulls back with a frown when he feels Dean’s hands start to slide under the hem of his shirt.

“Dean.”

Dean raises his eyebrows as a question, pretending he had no ulterior motive. Cas continues, “If you even think about touching me with those ice cold hands, you’re going to regret it.”

“Oh, so you’ll use me as your own personal Kristoff but then won’t even help me warm my frostbitten fingers up?”

“A professional like Kristoff would have used the proper tools.”

“I thought you liked my tools?” Dean replied, leaning in for a slower kiss this time.

Resting his forehead against Dean’s, Cas replies, “You know I love you and your tools. Now, focus! Because we have a ridiculous amount people showing up in about two hours and we still have things to get ready.”

“Okay, fine!” Dean say, holding his slightly less cold hands up in defeat. “I’ll go get the cooler from the garage so I can get the drinks on ice.”

Dean is gone for a about thirty seconds when Cas hears him step back into the kitchen. “Umm, Cas? When did we get a cat?”

“Well, actually, that’s Jack.”

“Ok. When did Jack get a cat?”

“No, that is Jack. He, uh… he sort of discovered a new skill while you were out.”

Dean opened his mouth to ask one of the many questions on the tip of his tongue but changed his mind and closed it again. Resigning himself to his fate, he turned and walked towards the garage, muttering something about “Why did I have to pick angels?” But, of course, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

There are a lot of pros and cons to Dean’s job, Cas realized pretty early into their relationship.

Like Dean’s alarm going off at 6:00 every morning and thereby waking Cas at Satan’s hour. Con.

Helping Dean with paperwork and documentation into the night because he’s not given the time he needs to do it while actually on the clock. Con.

All of the emergency meetings and random phone calls and emails pouring in during dinner time and even over the weekend. Con.

“Good morning everyone! It’s so good to see you again! Jayden, don’t put your iPad charger in your mouth!”

Hearing the genuine joy in his husband’s voice when he greets his second graders in the morning. Pro.

Dragging himself out of bed a few hours later and wandering through the background of Dean’s class during their math lesson and hearing a chorus of sweet voices disrupting their teacher to shout “Good morning Mr. Cas!” Pro.

Joining in on story time on the days his workload is lighter than usual because the kids like his villain voice best. Pro.

There’s a whole other list of pros and cons for when Dean physically had to go to school, back when the world still spun on its axis and spending time at home felt restful and even privileged.

Like last-second professional developments that kept Dean at work into the evening. Con.

Delivering homemade treats in the middle of the day for a classroom party and the kids looking at Cas like he holds all the contents of the galaxy in his plastic cupcake container from Target. Pro.

Dean bringing home every kind of germ, virus, and bug known to man. Con. A con that’s a little too on the nose for the times they’re living in.

But Dean also brings home the kids’ creations, their glimmering Valentine’s Day cards, spooky Halloween masks still damp from far too much glue, sweet little poems about families and beloved pets and flowers that grow in the cracks of playgrounds written in the fragmented penmanship of those still learning, still growing. Pro.

Seeing the love and admiration in Dean’s eyes as he proclaims the genius of his rowdy bunch of 7-year-olds. Pro.

“Okay y’all, can you show me how we mute our mics? Look at y’all! I see I’m working with professionals here, great job!”

Maybe this new way doesn’t come with quite as many pros and it certainly brought it’s fair share of cons. But at the end of the day, seeing the mist in his husband’s eyes when he signs off to a mixed jumble of cries of “have a good day Mr. Dean!” “Mr. Dean I miss you!” and “Love you Mr. Dean!” Pro. And worth every single con.

“If you keep this up, maybe we can convince Mr. Cas to join us for story time as a reward.”

Cas smiles at the mention of his name, back arching like a cat as he stretches and burrows deeper into his husband’s pillow. He still has a few hours until story time and if he does sleep a little late, Dean is here to wake him up. Pro.

[naruhearts]

14x18 First Watch Thoughts: Mary Winchester the Mirror, TFW and Destiel

**FLAILS**

My thoughts are practically incoherent because I’m having BIG FEELS right now...VERY big feels re: TFW/Destiel narratives.

I am SUPER glad Berens was the one who penned Mary’s death!! The episode was just well-done all around from start to finish and intensely executed, with the proper solid balance of angst, emotional insight from the characters placed inside Mary’s cathartic contextual role, and the consistent reiteration of Mary as TFW’s overall Parental Catharsis in 14x18′s storytelling (and S12-14′s whole parental premise in conjunction with John Winchester’s ghost). 

Mary was portrayed as the singular contrasting foil to TFW’s individual and combined arcs. Absence was, obviously, a core theme, with Mary’s absence -- her death -- playing out as A. familial purpose (accountability and her death as the impetus to work together --> forgive each other, forgive yourself), B. self-purpose (self-realization via Jack: what did I do? Why did I do it? Why do we do things?), and C. romantic purpose on the Dean/Cas front. 

Let me explain C. -- well, WE BEEN KNEW. The metasphere wrote about this (my post x).

x

Dean was HEAVILY subtextually framed as the angry spouse undergoing a rough patch with Cas over Mary’s death  (the tension, juxtaposed by sad orchestral strings and soft lighting, Dean lashing out at Cas, romantic framing via Dean’s back turned to Cas, their interactions holding frustration yet still underpinned by certain tenderness etc *sighhhhh*) and Dean continuing down the route of giving Cas, not Sam, frosty shoulders -- emphasized by the romantic visual framing of space between them e.g. Sam preventing Cas from comforting Dean during Mary’s funeral, backs again facing each other, Dean and Cas interacting sparsely, Dean bitter and disengaged, Cas longing for forgiveness from Dean, Sam as the overt brother caught in the middle as he embodies the role of mediator and stable thinker for both of them etc -- just strengthens my belief that Destiel is going to experience another (hopefully) intense romance-coded confrontation as intense as the one they had in the cabin -- one that leads up to a lover’s make-up or some kind of emotional breakthrough/realization which has Cas happy enough to be taken by the Empty (remember, DEAN STILL DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT CAS’ DEAL. Cas’ life to save his son’s life, harking back to Dean’s own fatherly self-sacrificial deal by saying Yes to Michael. He is utterly unaware that he’ll lose Cas) and it’s a double punch here, because Dean will realize how stupid he is for not appreciating Cas -- more accurately, trying to be mutually transparent and honest with him (he has, though, and he’s made leaps and bounds) before it’s too late but failing (final regression before progression). He does appreciate Cas, and Cas means more to him than anyone could ever describe *points at his Mind!Bar 14x10* yet their love languages still don’t align. IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO START ALL OVER AGAIN, DEAN! 14x19 is written by BL so I additionally hope the D/C subtext from this point onwards works in our favour!!

As I said in above and in my liveblog posts, a summary: 

The differences in Dean’s grieving are a COMPLETE visual comparison to 12x23, complete with overhead 📸 shots and differing funeral pyre scenes: when he grieved over Cas, he was alone, kneeling on the ground, and was blatantly numb/emotionally incapacitated – Dean mourned the loss of his lover. When he’s grieving Mary, Sam is by his side. Brothers mourning the loss of their mother. Romantic vs familial.

Overt romance-coded parallels with Sam/Rowena keeping constant contact just like Dean/Cas do both offscreen and onscreen

Sam telling Dean IT WASN’T JUST CAS and his own emotional pull in this ep as expressing accountability for TFW’s actions in general – besides internalizing/talking about the self-guilt, shame, and the inevitable pain of losing people despite saving people (also re: the 🔑 theme of doing the wrong, stupid thing for the right reasons) -- was character development on a marvelous scale. Dean was enlightened and began to admit it himself. Honest, open words. Dean and Cas should learn from him!!

 Cas was absolutely humanized, subsuming the Winchester Way of Bringing Family Back, and he additionally evoked honesty/an emotional justification while admitting his mistakes and again representing FAITH: faith in Jack narratively linked to FAITH IN HIMSELF and the season-long theme of believing there’s another way -- in believing that good things shall come. As he appropriately told Anael last episode -- loneliness is a construct misconstrued by her; not being in one’s physical presence doesn’t mean they aren’t there -- they are there. They are there for you. Narrative symmetry with 14x17′s presence of emotional acknowledgement despite physical absence re: God (and TFW; just because Cas wasn’t with the Winchesters did not mean he loved them any less) vs 14x18′s absence of full-frontal communication despite physical presence re: Dean and Cas/TFW (being physically present also entails being emotionally present through HONESTY). Berens interlinked the subtext. Negative spaces are being filled. And there’s also an Evil/dark dimension added to this Presence vs Absence commentary: Lucifer’s a visage in Jack’s mind, just like Sam. Jack’s soullessness has come to a psychological crux. He’s teeter-tottering – tried desperately to bring Mary back, and now he might have fucked up the natural order (if BTS pics of zombies in 14x20 is linked to this).  Furthermore:

(*clutches chest* There’s the heartbreaking spousal-coded visual narrative.)

Oh, Cas...Jack is BOTH good and evil. This is the intrinsic dualism of human nature. It’s what makes Jack human. And goodness involves badness. 

CAS: [Jack] was good for us. Indeed, we know he was. The unhealthily-codependent-abusive notion of family TFW used to possess (where their overarching parental issues -- Chuck’s absence, John’s abuse and Mary’s absence -- crippled their early formative growth, extending into decades) was deconstructed and rebuilt in healthier ways. Being a parent to Jack offset their true capabilities/qualities: FAITH (Cas), HOPE (Sam), and LOVE (Dean), alongside all the stickiness that came with his birth. By direct association, Cas learned (is learning) how to believe in himself. Sam learned (is learning) how to hope in himself. Dean learned (is learning) how to love himself. Mental/emotional release from their internal chains took place (will come to its final culmination in S15). In other words, Jack the Unifying TFW Mirror -- like Mary -- was the great interpersonal conduit for (a Jesus-figure-representation) honesty, appreciation (spending time with your loved ones), positive vs negative self-process, and self-awareness. Keep in mind that Jack has characteristically taken the place of Dean, Cas and Sam’s own dark arcs (Soulless!Sam, in particular) with what looks like a Godstiel mirror in 14x19 -- he’s literally becoming textualized as TFW’s mirror -- and, like his parents, he is going to make his independent (wayward) choices and question the primacy of human nature: good, evil, and the grey in-between. Will he listen to his head or his heart?  Most of all, Jack taught them that HuntingTM is filled with pain, horror, and death, but genuine purpose lies beyond it. The lives they live are also innumerably interlinked with joy and happiness. These positive things aren’t as sparse as they think: they have each other.

Mary Winchester is ⚰️ and resides in Heaven (her death successfully made me emotional and packed a deep personal punch; the black and white flashbacks interspersed throughout 14x18 relative to Mary’s influence on TFW was A++). She disappeared right when TFW’s arcs came together to display character progression. Her purpose – pushing TFW to engage in self-introspection, personal growth, and honesty with the Self and others – is done.

Mary, the Cas mirror, carved M.W. into the table with S.W and D.W. You know who should be next, right? CASTIEL W. (and Jack W.) (recall that in 14x17, Mary relayed to Dean that she treasured and enjoyed her time with him and Sam -- channeling Cas’ 14x12 farewell speech. Mary has always embodied LOVE, both romantic and familial, with the great virtue of honesty, and Dean, by proxy, has been telling his family he loves them. Again, who is the next family member he’ll say I LOVE YOU to? What do Dean and Cas WANT? Time to answer this question!!)

WE HAVE COME FULL CIRCLE. Narrative cyclism, y’all. Mary and John Winchester are finally at ✌️, and by so doing, TFW will experience emotional/personal/psychological ✌️ as they leave their past behind to create their own optimistic self-actualized future. THERE’LL BE GENUINE PEACE WHEN YOU ARE DONE.

TFW MUST TALK

I mean, I’ll probably reblog this with new thoughts during the next few days, but yes, ENDGAME’S UPON US, and all the extensive meta regarding Dabb Era Love and...Love, Unity, Family, Honesty, the centrality of interpersonal relationships and Reconciliation of the Past & Future since Season New Beginnings 12/13 over Season Who Am I 14 should be realized in the final two ANGST-filled eps. TL;DR a gigantic multilayered soup of character-positive/relationship growth-positive meta coming to fruition for the main plot.

Berens has killed us all. 14x18 is one of my favourite Emotion-centric episodes yet!

RATING: 10/10

Thank you for reading my sloppier-than-usual word-vomit!

[imthatpeculiarone]

for @thursdays-fallen-angel 

Summary: Dean and Cas stargaze.

  Tags: married!destiel, drabble, mentions of greek mythology, stargazing 

Story is below the cut or read it here on my ao3! 

When Dean wakes up in the middle of the night, sometimes he notices the bed beside him is empty. It’s not every night, in fact it happens quite rarely. He could count the number of times he has awoken to an empty bed on one hand. Yet, he’s never worried or concerned. He’s isn’t afraid. He knows exactly where he’ll be. They moved to the countryside because of the night sky, because Castiel was always obsessed with the stars. It had been like that since they were children, when they laid next to each other in their backyards in Lawrence. Cas would point out random constellations and spurt out facts as if he were an encyclopaedia. Dean would always hum as if he understood but ultimately, he just enjoyed the sound of Cas’ voice. Dean finds himself at the window of the study and isn’t hesitant to throw the window doors open. In a swift movement, he crawls out onto the roof and into the cool air of the night. He spots his husband almost immediately, sitting only a few feet away with his knees tucked up under his chin and his eyes closed. Dean walks over and the roof creaks below his feet. Cas’ eyes fly open and make contact with Dean’s. Then, there it is. A small, closed mouth smile springs to his lips. The smile he reserves only for Dean. Dean sits down next to him and Cas is quick to throw his arm around him, drawing him to his side. They are silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the peacefulness of their land and the feeling of the soft cold breeze from the trees. It’s nights like this where Dean feels a sense of security. It’s nights like this where he feels at home. After some time has passed, Cas speaks. “Have I ever told you the story of Perseus and Andromeda?” Dean can’t help but let out a small chuckle. Cas has told that story and he knows Cas knows it too. He’s told it constantly, to the point Dean could recite it himself. Yet, he plays along. “No, it doesn’t ring a bell.” He says. “Please, enlighten me.” Cas smiles for Dean again. He unwraps his arm from Dean’s shoulder and instead, holds out his hand to him. Dean grabs it and entwines their fingers. They then both lay back in unison, so that they can look up at the stars. “Perseus’ constellation is hard to find.” Cas tells Dean. “I rarely see it, unless it’s winter.” He extends his free index finger to the sky. “Perseus’ constellation is shaped as himself, the man of the sky. He was placed there after his death, along with his partner - Andromeda.” He waves his finger slightly as if he is forming the constellation. However, the night sky is littered with stars. Dean rarely is able to spot any of the constellations his husband attempts to show him. “Perseus’ legend is that he was known for the slaying of Medusa. He sliced her head off and brought it with him on his journey home—to celebrate his victory. Upon voyage home, he came across the Princess Andromeda. She was chained to a rock in preparation to be eaten by the monster, Cetus. It was love at first site for the hero. So he told the King and Queen, Andromeda’s parents, that he would save their daughter if he was granted permission to win the princess’ hand.” He squeezes Dean’s hand. “With their acceptance, he used the head of Medusa to turn Cetus to stone. However, upon her rescue - Perseus discovered that Andromeda was betrothed to another man.” Dean can’t help but crack a smile. Cas had always narrated these stories as if he were reading it straight from a storybook. However, considering he had studied the classics from college onwards - Dean isn’t surprised he is able to recite the mythology with such eloquentness. “Perseus battled Andromeda’s betrothed for her hand, but his opponent was strong and Perseus was greatly outnumbered. With impending death, the hero did the only thing he could. He used Medusa’s head and instantly turned the man to stone, winning the right for the Princess. Perseus and Andromeda then went on to live many years together, until they both passed. After their death, the Gods placed them in the sky where they have remained since.” Dean fondly watches as his husband drew another shape in the sky—which Dean knows is Andromeda’s constellation. Again, he is unable to place it in the thousands of stars. “You know… I have no idea why you always tell me this story. I mean… it is pretty depressing.” Dean states. He sees Cas turn and look at him, waiting for him to continue. “I mean, sure it has a ‘happy ending’ but what about the poor dude that got turned to stone? I mean one minute he’s intent on marrying this girl and the next, he’s become a fucking statue.” Cas laughs softly from beside him. “I suppose so. I mean, there are definitely many interpretations of Perseus and Andromeda. Some bizarre, others fascinating. Despite what you may think, it isn’t my favourite Greek mythology story but… it has a special sentiment to me.” Dean has never heard Cas mention that the story was sentimental to him. He turns so that he can face his husband. “Why do you love the story so much?” Cas stares Dean in the eyes. “The first time I told it to you, we were 12. By then, stargazing had been my favourite thing to do with you. Of course, at this point you thought it was uncool and childish. But one night after dinner at mine, you agreed to go and watch the stars with me.” Dean remembers the night thirty years ago in Cas’ backyard. He remembers Cas telling the story with such enthusiasm that Dean at the time had thought it was endearing. He always became animated when he told stories as a kid, as if he were putting on a performance. “I told you this story and you just laughed afterwards and gave me the biggest smile. I then pointed out the constellations to you and you obviously pretended that you could see them. But it was in that moment, as I looked up at the stars that I thought of something.” “What?” Dean asks. “I thought… well rather hoped at the time that one day… one day our story would be written in the stars. It was this split second idea that disappeared as quick as it came. But… it was then that I realised that you were my one. It scared me at first… obviously I was 12… but eventually it grew to be a fond memory.” Dean grins. “You’re a sap you know that?” Cas shrugs. “Whatever, I look back and congratulate myself on being observant enough to notice it first. It took you a fair few years to play catch up.”

Dean huffs a small laugh. “Yeah… but I got there eventually.” He leans his head against Cas’ shoulder and closes his eyes. They’re still for a moment, before Dean feels his husband lean over and press a kiss to his forehead. Despite all their years together, it never fails to cause goosebumps to shiver across Dean’s skin. “Come on.” Cas whispers. “Let’s get back to bed, it won’t be long before the kids wake.” Dean nods and lets Cas pull him up. They make their way off the roof and back into the bed that they share. As soon as the covers are on, they are instantly drawn to each other. Dean takes comfort in the way Cas wraps his arms around him from behind. He feels Cas bury his head into the crook of his neck. Cas mumbles something into his neck and Dean chuckles tiredly. Even though he wasn’t able hear what he said… he knows. “Yeah, I love you too.” And as the two of them fade to sleep, so do the stars in the sky. At least… for now.

[mile9213]

I wish time would freeze

It is way past midnight when Castiel reaches the hospital. "They are fine. Everything will be alright," he repeats like a mantra in his head as he walks to the office of the doctor, who can explain what happened to your family, Mister Winchester, the nurse had said. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and knocks on the door of the man who has the power to break him, to tear his world apart.

He opens the door slowly. „Doctor Lafitte, I´m Castiel Winchester. The nurse said that you could tell me where my family is.“

„I can,“ the doctor confirms and asks him to take a seat. The door closes behind him and it doesn‘t take Castiel much time to realize that his family, his little bumblebee and his husband, aren‘t fine. That they will never be fine again. That he needs to prepare himself. That there is not much time left. That there is nothing they can do.

„Is she… Is my daughter in pain,“ he asks after a while and doesn‘t know if he really wants to hear the answer.

„No,“ the doctor shakes his head. „She doesn‘t feel much anymore.“

„That‘s…“ he starts, but stops because he doesn‘t know whether it is good or bad. He doesn‘t really want to think about the meaning of this so he settles for a nod and takes a deep breath. „What about Dean?“ He tries to hold back his emotions, to calm himself because this cannot be happening, right? This is all just a nightmare and if he believes that enough he will wake up and his family will be there. Right?

„We could stop the bleeding in his stomach,“ the doctor said and before Castiel can thank the doctor for saving the love of his life, he continues, „but there are fragments of the bomb in the area of his heart and we can‘t remove them and he can‘t live with them.“

„What does that mean?“ He asks even though deep down he already knows the answer to that.

„It means that with each beat of his heart the fragments move and when they reach his heart... We won‘t be able to stop it. I‘m sorry. There is nothing we can do at this point except to make their last hours as comfortable as possible.“

It is very quiet after that and Castiel feels like a bomb hit him, too and took everything he has, his heart, his soul, away from him. And in a way a bomb did just that.

„Mister Winchester,“ The doctor interrupts his thoughts and Castiel looks up again. „Would you like to see your daughter?“

He nods numbly and follows the doctor to the hospital room. They walk in and the sight of his daughter breaks his heart. Her body, "60% of her body", the doctor had said, is covered in wounds from the heat of the explosion. There are tubes all around and in her little body and a steady beep echoes through the room, reminding him that she is still alive. But what really means 'alive' at this point anyway?

„You can sit with her.“ Doctor Lafitte suggests as he sees that Castiel is still standing in the middle of the room. „She needs you now more than ever.“ He smiles reassuringly and leaves Castiel alone in his little daughter‘s room, her last room she will ever be in.

He shakily sits down on a hospital chair and starts to pray, for what, he doesn‘t know. It feels wrong to pray for a miracle. To pray for their survival. Emma would never be without pain. Dean would never be himself again. How could he pray for something like that?

He hates himself for hoping that they won‘t have to be much longer on this earth and he hates himself that a tiny part of him hopes that the time will freeze and he can just be with them for an eternity.

„Papa?“ Cas cannot help it and tries to smile and to be strong because he cannot bear the thought that the last face she will ever see is a face full of sorrow and pain. So he smiles and hopes it is convincing and tries to cement it on his face.

„Hey, bumblebee.“ He whispers lovingly like it is a normal night, like he had said it in the past.

„I am scared.“ She mumbles tiredly.

„I know, baby girl, but I am right here.“ He kisses her hand and tries to ignore the wounds. „Nothing bad can happen to you.“ He whispers and his voice breaks as he says, „I‘ll always be there for you.“

„I love you, papa.“ She smiles and is calmer than before.

„I love you, too, bumblebee.“ He takes her hand in his and tries to memorize how it feels like, tries to convince himself that this is enough for a lifetime.

When she closes her eyes for the last time in her too short life, Castiel knows that it will never be enough.

He doesn‘t know how long he sits there, just holding her hand and praying that her chest would rise again and she would open her eyes again. She never does.

Some time later, minutes, hours, Castiel doesn‘t know nor care, he sits besides his husband on a chair and waits. Waits for Dean to wake up. Waits for someone to tell him that this is all just a cruel prank or mistake or something else. He tries not to think about the possibility that there is a world where his family doesn‘t exist anymore and tries to hold on to his mask because "Dean needs to rest, Mister Winchester. Stress is dangerous in his condition," doctor Lafitte‘s words echo through his head.

„Hey, Angel,“ Dean‘s voice is barely above a whisper, but for Cas it is the best sound he has ever heard.

„Hello, Dean.“ He whispers back, hoping this is the miracle he has hoped for. The miracle that would stop the time. Dean's mouth curved into a smile and he caresses his thumb over Cas‘ hand. The gesture, so normal, that Cas can‘t help it and let his smile reach his eyes.

„What happened?“

„What do you remember?“ „I… I was walking down the street with Em. She was laughing about something and then I… I don‘t know.“ Terror overtakes Dean‘s face when he realizes that Emma is nowhere to be seen. „Cas, what happened? Where is Em? Is she okay?“ Dean starts to panic and his heartbeat quickens. "With each beat of his heart the fragments move. Stress is dangerous in his condition."

Castiel jumps into action and takes his husband‘s face in his hands. „Emma is fine.“ He lies and is surprised how easy the lie comes when it means that he gets to have Dean a little while longer. He leans his forehead against Dean‘s and looks him deep into his eyes, pleading that he will believe him. „There was a bomb explosion in the bank you passed on your way home. Emma didn‘t get hurt. But you did. I need you to calm down. Please, for me.“

Castiel doesn‘t know what Dean sees in his eyes, how he can convince him that their baby girl is alive and breathing and not cold and dead in the morgue, but he does and Dean calms down.

„Em is okay?“ He asks hopefully.

„Yeah, she is. She is asleep now, but I talked to her before I came here.“

„That‘s good. You know how scared she gets when we don‘t scare the monsters away.“

„Yeah,“ Cas laughs with tears running down his face. „I know.“

„Hey, what‘s wrong?“ Dean asks concerned and wipes the tears from his husband‘s face.

„Nothing,“ Castiel lies, but his voice betrays him and breaks. He shakes his head and tries again. „Nothing," he swallows past the lump in his throat. "I am just so happy that you are alive. I don‘t know what I would do without you.“ He says and means it.

„Come here,“ Dean taps the spot besides him and Cas lays down, his ear on the good side of his husband‘s chest and he hears the steady and faintly heartbeat of the love of his life. „I am not going anywhere.“ Dean assures him and kisses his head. „Love you too much for that.“

With tears in his eyes Castiel lifts his head and looks into his husband‘s eyes and as he sees the determination in there he can‘t help himself and believe him.

„I‘m glad,“ he touches Dean‘s cheek again and his husband leans into it. „Because I love you, too. So much.“

They kiss softly and full of love and Cas whishes they could have this forever.

They break the kiss and Dean smiles brightly at him. Cas lays down again let‘s himself pretend that they aren‘t in a hospital, let‘s himself pretend that everything is alright. After a while Dean breaks the silence.

„Hey, Cas?“

„Yeah?“

„Happy birthday.“ Dean whispers and takes his last breath.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I fully blame @cas-watches-over-you for this one ! Please let me know what you think :D!

[avyssoseleison]

when half spent was the night

Extremely sappy DeanCas Christmas fluff (Warning: Brief mention of John being abusive) | On AO3 | 2k

Castiel finds Dean in the living room, bathed in the light of the Christmas tree, sprawled out all over the sofa, his entire body loose and lax, and his eyes half-closed. He cannot help but want to kiss him as he is, this very picture of relaxation, and so he does: with quiet steps, he bridges the small distance between them, cards his hand through Dean’s hair, who does not rouse beyond blinking up at him and sighing softly, and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Dean’s eyes flutter closed at that, in that content and fulfilled way they used to only ever do once the two of them had found their pleasure in each other, especially so at the beginning of their relationship, when Dean seldom allowed himself any display of vulnerability or honest emotion. But, it happens frequently now. The sight of which never fails to elicit a sense of deep satisfaction within Castiel, and he simply has to lower himself to his knees to reach even better Dean and kiss him again.

The smile that curves Dean’s lips up at the unexpected gesture makes it just as worth it for Castiel as the scent of his hair, the feel of his soft skin, the taste of his husband’s lips. Dean’s mouth is slack, but not unresponsive; it is obvious that he did more than just lie here, probably had fallen into a state of rest, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, and is not fully conscious, yet is still receptive to Castiel kisses. He still wants them; wants him.

The heat that blooms within Castiel’s chest upon this realization almost wants him to take Dean back to bed, just not for sleep, and to enjoy him in this utterly vulnerable and incredibly beautiful state, in which he is conscious enough to consent, but not enough to even attempt to put up a barrier. Not that he does so often with Castiel, not anymore. Still, for Castiel not even having to coax him into letting his guard down, to instead just receive Dean’s sweet sighs and open kisses like this, must be the greatest gift he has received tonight.

He pulls away from Dean as he feels his own kisses to grow headier while Dean’s stay the same, without heat or hurry, and places his forehead against his to calm himself. In careful measures, he inhales and exhales again, willing his body and heart to be satisfied with this merely level of physicality without urging for more.

Dean gives a half-snort at that -- as always amused by how easy his mere presence serves to arouse Castiel --, closes his eyes as their foreheads touch, and breathes with him. That he does not push for more or less shows Castiel that he has made the right call; that Dean indeed wishes for merely this.

Castiel blows out a long, slow breath, and then opens his eyes again, although he does not even recall closing them. From beneath him, Dean is already looking back at him, his own gaze not quite as half-lidded as before, yet still far from fully awake. Maybe it is because of all the food and drinks he consumed today that he seems only semi-conscious still.

“You okay there, babe?” Dean murmurs so sweetly and sleepily that Castiel simply has to catch his lips in yet another short kiss. It is a peck more than anything else, for Castiel fears that he might not be able to hold himself back again if he received yet another proper taste.

“I missed you,” Castiel says honestly, “when I woke up, you weren’t in bed.”

“Hmm, I woke up and couldn’t fell back asleep, so I came down here.” He shifts minutely, the tip of his nose brushing Castiel’s cheek.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asks, concern seeping into his desire and content. Just like Dean used to be prone to shying away from showing any sort of vulnerability when their relationship was a new and tender thing, so was he prone to nightmares and uneasy sleep. Throughout the years, due to many sessions of therapy and to some small degree probably also due to Castiel’s unconditional love and support, he has become better about both of these things, but every now and then, the demons of the past come back to haunt him. He is only human, after all.

“Hey, now, no need for that face,” Dean chides, his lips following the path that his nose took moments before in a soft line of kisses along Castiel’s cheek. Castiel does not even know what sort of face he must have made for Dean to attempt to -- by all intents and purposes -- kiss him bcretter, but he decides to simply accept his husband’s loving treatment. “‘m okay, no worries. I just got into thinking about the last few days, the entire Christmas time, really, ‘n wanted to see the tree again. And the decorations. And everything.”

Any other time -- not in the middle of the night, for starters --, Castiel might have simply found Dean’s actions adorable, smiled to himself at any excitement Dean might have had about the Christmas tree or the twinkling decorations in the window. But he could not shake off his concern nor could he ignore that wistful, preoccupied expression on Dean’s face. “Is this about your childhood?”

This time, Dean snorts fully. Probably, as Castiel belatedly realizes, because of the bluntness of his statement, and because Dean has long since given up on trying to teach him more tact. “Yes and no. But a bit, I guess. It’s about my childhood to the extent that it’s not about it. I mean, you know how we grew up, Sammy ‘n me, that we didn’t have all--,” he makes a tiny jerking motion with his chin, but it is enough for Castiel to know that he is gesturing towards the decorations, the house, himself, “that, and I found myself thinking about how I do have it now. The holly-jolly, the merry and bright, the goddamn silent night, and I was…” he drifts off for a moment, his gaze flitting away from Castiel and towards the Christmas tree, decked with red and golden baubles and ornaments, one of the most traditionally decorated trees Castiel has ever seen, “I was thinking about how lucky I was. As a kid, I always believed I’d never get anything like this, that not being hungry or-- or being beaten was all I should be asking for for Christmas. That it would be enough. Just Sammy ‘n me, some stolen snacks, a candy cane or two, and badly-wrapped gifts.  And look at me now: hosting a real Christmas dinner for Sammy and everyone else who’s family now, decorating the house that I bought with my own family and that belongs to me and that I only share with my husband, who supports me and loves me and makes me feel so good and…” Although the Christmas tree is the only source of light in the room, Castiel can still see the tears shimmering in Dean’s eyes. “So, yeah, I’m lucky.”

Castiel’s arms are slung around Dean’s shoulders before he has even made the conscious decision to do so. Simple kisses would not suffice; he needs to be as close to him as is possible, as close as he can get aside from entering him, which he could not do right now.

Dean is trembling in his arms, though only slightly so -- and his breathing is steady. He is not breaking apart like he used to; and it is Dean’s strength that has Castiel speak with his voice dipped as low and intimate as the cradle of them calls for.

“You’re not just ‘lucky’ , Dean. You have worked very hard for this. You did not let how your father treated you stump your growth, but instead, you worked for a good education, you worked for a rewarding job, you took up therapy, you worked on becoming a man capable and deserving of a fulfilling relationship, and none of it was luck. All of it was you. Surviving.” He places a kiss onto his forehead. “Persevering.” To the tip of his nose “Earning your reward.” And to his gently parted lips.

“Cas,” Dean whines into the last kiss, but Castiel accepts no objections. Instead, he takes Dean’s face into his hands and licks into his mouth, well-aware of how his own desire will flare up again for naught, but also of how content Dean is to just receive kisses like this, open and earnest, even -- and some days especially -- without any ultimate purpose.

As they break their kiss this time, Dean finally looks fully awake. There is still a shimmer to his eyes, but also something darker -- Dean’s desire swelling in kind --, the sight of which Castiel has grown familiar with over the years, longs for so often that is is pitiful at times.. For yet another time in his life, Castiel catches himself realizing how helplessly in love he is with Dean, that there is nothing he would not do for him.

“If childhood-you could see you right now,” Castiel says, a bit more breathless than he wants to be, “I am sure that he would be as proud of you as I am today. You are not the child from so long ago anymore.” Dean’s hands are on his neck and shoulders, pulling him back in, pulling him onto him. “You are a man now.” Castiel goes willingly. He twists himself from their rushed embrace to fully drape himself on top of Dean, one hand in his hair, the other on his chin, all of their bodies connected, one solid line, from head to toe. “You are truly yourself now.” Dean presses up against him, warm and willing, tempting and beautiful, making it almost impossible for Castiel to control himself any longer. “And an incredible husband, too,” he sighs into Dean’s ear, earning himself a shuddering moan.

“Cas, please, ” Dean begs.

“Please what, Dean?” Castiel asks, not as a tease, but a reassurance. Despite the evidence of Dean’s desire pressed up against his own, he needs to know that Dean truly wants him like this right now, whether this is alright. Because heat has been growing inside of Castiel ever since he had come downstairs, and he does not want to burden Dean with something he might not be in the right headspace for right now.

Apparently, though, he is not alone in his longing.

“I want you like this,” Dean whispers, sweeping Castiel with relief, “I want you here.” In the light of the Christmas tree, surrounded by the proof of everything he has achieved, everything he has become, he does not say, but Castiel hears it all the same -- understands.

Because the true meaning of Dean’s words is in his hands that stroke the shoulders and side of his husband, gently guiding Castiel into a rhythm; it is in the comfortable Christmas pajamas underneath which his skin still carries scars, but underneath which his skin is also growing warmer alongside his arousal; it is in his eyes, which are dark with memories and desire but which also reflect the lights of the Christmas tree, the fruit of his own labor.

“I will have you wherever you want,” Castiel promises, with nothing but truthfulness in his voice and heart, “I want you however you will have me.”

And when Dean responds with yet another sigh, this one even sweeter and softer than any before, Castiel muses that this is, after all, what Christmas is truly about. What it should have been about whenever John hurt Dean and what it was about whenever Dean wrapped yet another stolen present for his brother. And also back when Dean and Castiel met each other for the first time in their lives, one cold Christmas Eve, in a run-down bar at the edge of town, drunk out of their minds and seeking nothing more than another lonely soul to spend this most painful of nights with, to forget about what they did not have.

Yes, it is and was and will always be about love and peace, and finding home.