Something soft & sweet especially for the wonderful @jactingjoices on your birthday! 💚 Read below or on ao3. (1.2k)
“Am I attractive?”
Dean feels his head snap up like a sprung coil. There’s no way he heard that right.
He takes a breath and carefully puts down the book he was researching, trying not to let the heavy edition thump from his suddenly unsteady hands as he looks at Cas across the table. His hands are laced together, his own books long forgotten as he stares back at Dean with vulnerability etched into his pale blue eyes.
“What?”
Cas swallows and looks away for a moment, saying nothing. The seconds tick by and still he remains silent.
“Cas?” Dean presses, touching his fingers lightly against his friend's hand. Cas pulls back, his hands dropping beneath the table as his gaze roams the floor.
Ouch.
Dean crosses his arms and tries to push away the sudden hurt stinging inside him.
When Cas finally looks at him again, Dean suddenly wishes the library wasn’t so empty right now. He really wishes there was someone else here to distract from this, to buffer them. Being around Cas, when it’s just the two of them, is difficult. More than difficult. It’s dangerous.
“Forget I said anything,” Cas mutters, pushing his chair back loudly and making to stand up.
That’s good advice. He should definitely do that.
Instead, Dean sighs and straightens in his chair, inching it a little closer to the angel as he waves him back down to his seat. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Cas drops back down, shaking his head for a long moment before lifting his shoulders into a weak shrug. “Well, it’s just that lately I’ve been feeling...”
And that's all Dean gets. Cas lets his voice trail off, the room descending into silence again as he stares intently at the table.
“What?” Dean coaxes.
“It’s silly.”
“I can do silly.”
Cas takes a deep breath, his eyes still refusing to meet Dean’s as he continues. “Well, recently I’ve started to feel-” He stops again, searching for the words. “I’ve been feeling a bit-” Another pause, and then a deep breath. “I think I’m lonely. When I go out to get groceries or to take a walk, I feel isolated.”
Dean feels his heart plummet to his stomach like a stone dropped down a well. “Cas, I didn’t know. I try to go with you sometimes. I could go with you more?”
“No, it’s not that.” Cas is staring at his hands now, like they might have the answers he’s looking for. “It’s just that I see people when I’m outside, people together, couples.” He looks up at Dean. “And I think I’m jealous of that.”
It takes Dean a startled moment to process exactly what it is Cas is saying to him. “You want a girlfriend?”
“No,” Cas replies, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I mean that. Actually, I’m not really sure what I mean. I think I just want to be wanted. But I don’t know if that’s possible for me and I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.”
“How do you mean?”
Cas gestures to himself. “This vessel of mine. It’s not a vessel anymore. It hasn’t been for a very long time.”
“I know,” Dean agrees softly. “It’s you.”
Cas smiles at him gently and Dean’s entire world narrows down to that one look.
He wishes he could preserve it for the rest of eternity.
“Yes, this is me. This is my body and my eyes and my nose, my everything, but I don’t know how I look to other people. I’ve gotten so used to myself that I never stop to think about how other people see me. It’s stupid, but I don’t know if I’m-” He searches for the right word before his eyes meet Dean’s again. “Desirable.”
Dean swallows and tries to find words, any words, among the jumble of thoughts in his brain. “I-”
“You know people, Dean, you know what they like. I just want you to tell me what you think of me.”
“Cas, I-”
“Just be honest, Dean. I promise I won’t get upset.”
Dean shakes his head, trying to find the breath in his lungs as he ignores the jab of sadness in his heart. How can Cas not know how amazing he is? “Cas, I think you’re great, you know that.”
Cas stands up abruptly from his seat and Dean can tell he isn’t going to let this go. “But physically, Dean. Please. What am I like? I need someone to tell me the truth, and I know you will. I love this body either way but I need to know if I could be desired like this.”
Dean swallows loudly as Cas looks back at him expectantly. How in the hell is he supposed to handle this? They’re way too close to that old familiar cliff’s edge and he needs to shut it all down right now.
But then he looks at Cas, arms by his side and vulnerability shining from his eyes and he wants to tell him the truth. He wants to tell him everything.
So, he stands on wobbling legs and steps a little closer to Cas, circling him slowly before moving back to face him.
“Alright, listen. You’re very-”
“What?”
“You’re very handsome, Cas. That’s my honest opinion.”
Cas raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
Dean nods and reaches out a hand, letting it hover beside the angel’s face. “You have kind eyes; bluest I’ve ever seen.” He lets his hands more to Cas’ chin, still hovering an inch away from his skin. “You have a strong jawline, rugged even. People like that.” He moves his hand again, tracing invisible lines in the air around Cas’ brow. “You get these little lines up here when you’re confused or concentrating really hard on something and it’s-it’s funny, and it’s endearing as hell.” He laughs to himself. “And you have those eyebags, even though you don’t need to sleep.”
“And that’s good?”
Dean nods. “It’s great, Cas. It feels like home.”
He lets his hand drop until it’s resting on Cas’ right shoulder. “You’re strong too. Powerful. I know you could throw me across the room if you wanted to.” Cas huffs in recognition. “And uh-” He looks away quickly before continuing. “You smell good. Earthy and solid. Like heavy rain in the middle of summer.”
Cas nods slowly, his brow furrowing just the way Dean described as he processes the information. Dean knows he should go now; he’s already said more than enough. Too much, probably.
But he’s still not done.
“You’re desirable, Cas.” And maybe his voice is so quiet it’s like he didn’t speak at all. “I’d be proud to be your girlfriend.” Dumbass. “I mean not that I’m-”
“Thank you,” Cas replies, his face open and earnest as he smiles back at Dean in appreciation. “I’d be proud to be your girlfriend too.”
Dean huffs out a relieved laugh, finally letting his hand fall from Cas’ shoulder.
He takes a step back.
“Glad I could help.”
He turns away.
He moves exactly two paces and then he stops again. " Cas?” he calls over his shoulder.
“Yes?”
“Uh.” Just say it, Winchester. “Do you-uh.” Just say it! “Would you maybe want to go out with me?” He swallows painfully around the bag of marbles trying to block his throat. “Like on a date?”
The silence that follows seems to last a lifetime.
Dean doesn’t dare turn around. He just stays rooted to the spot, his eyes closed and his heart beating like a racehorse.
“Yes,” Cas finally replies, and the smile in his voice matches the one now lighting up Dean’s face. “That would be very desirable.”
___
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when cas can't keep everything locked up he writes it down in a notebook he keeps hidden from dean 💔 for @jactingjoices day 3: prompt: "longing". (click for quality). dean version here.
For the amazing, kind, and insanely talented @pointyearedelvishprincling on your birthday, hope you have the best day ever aoife, love you lots! Read below or on ao3 (1.6k) p.s. everyone go read aoife’s fics right this second, I’m not joking!
“Dean? Are you alright?”
Dean blinks up at the uneven white ceiling above him as Cas’ worried face swims into view. He tries to sit up but is immediately hit with a wave of nausea as a sharp pain jolts through his skull. “Woah, bad idea,” he groans, lying back down and reaching his hand up to the back of his head where it brushes against a painfully fresh lump.
“What happened?” he asks.
“You scared the heavens and the hell out of me, that’s what happened,” Cas replies, his brow creased in disapproval as he peers down at Dean.
“Were we attacked? Cas, I thought you said we’d be safe here.”
“We are safe,” Cas sighs, a note of annoyance filtering through the concern in his voice. “And besides, you don’t need to worry, Dean, I’ve got the culprit right here.”
Dean blinks fast, preparing himself for trouble while simultaneously trying to mentally locate where he hid all of his knives.
He really wishes he had a gun. Any gun at all. Hell, he’d even take a spud gun right about now.
Cas is leaning away from him now, his arms reaching to pull something up from the floor. It’s green and small, smaller than any creature he’s ever come up against before. Deceptively innocent looking too. It must be something new, something they don’t even have back home.
“This, my love, is what got you.”
Cas drops it onto the bed, making Dean jump as it lands softly on his chest. He feels his body tense for a moment as he reaches a hand forward cautiously.
Oh.
He turns it over.
Oh.
He’s such an idiot.
“Cas, it’s a hat.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“It’s just a hat.”
“Yes, thank you Dean, I think we’re clear on that part.”
And maybe Dean is still a little dizzy from the fall but he’s really not understanding what a hat has to do with him getting attacked. He raises an eyebrow at his husband who picks up the green checkered flat cap and points to it.
“I bought this yesterday, when we were in Meath. I put it on today when I was making breakfast and you were still asleep. I brought our breakfast outside so we could get some fresh air and I called for you.” He pauses, clearly trying to suppress a smile. “You walked out, looked at me, blushed, staggered forward a few steps, and then passed out, knocking yourself out in the process and hitting your head.”
Dean folds his arms across his chest as the memory floods back to him. Cas humming from outside as he gathered their breakfast tray. Cas calling him out for bacon and eggs and his usual morning kiss. Cas in denim dungarees, sans shirt, grinning at him with that dumb stupid cap sitting askew on top of his head.
“I did not pass out.”
Yes, he did. He really did. But, c’mon. Cas looked great in that hat. Like, really great. Like Dean must be dreaming because how did he end up with a husband so amazing and so smokin’ hot too?
“I was just surprised.”
Cas snickers and lifts the hat up, dropping it quickly onto his head.
Okay. Yeah. This is definitely doing something for Dean.
Dean ignores the pain in his head, sitting up faster than he should to press a kiss to the angel’s lips. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers against his mouth, pushing his fingers into Cas’ hair and suddenly feeling a lot more conscious than he did five minutes ago.
“I love you,” Cas whispers, placing a glancing touch against Dean’s head and stealing away the pain as his grace, warm and familiar, soaks into Dean’s skin.
They stay like that for a while, kissing gently, fingers caressing skin, soft words tumbling against loving lips as they revel in the goodness of what they have together. It seems to last for an eternity and Dean knows he could stay happily lost in this moment forever.
Eventually, Cas moves back, pulling his legs beneath him to sit cross legged on the bed.
“So,” he sighs contentedly, “What should we do today?”
Dean glances pointedly at the bed beneath them, flashing a grin at Cas. “Oh, I have a few ideas.”
Cas rolls his eyes. “What else do you want to do today? We’re on vacation, Dean, we should see as much as we can before we have to leave again.”
Dean nods his head. Cas is right. They only have three days left in Ireland before they fly home again, they really should make the most of it. And so far, they really have.
They spent their first two days in Dublin, wandering around the capital city and enjoying the mild weather. They spent hours walking around The Phoenix Park, hand in hand, while Cas told Dean facts about the deer they spotted and about the park itself, the largest enclosed one in a European capital, apparently. And Dean listened, and nodded, and lapped up every single word he said.
They went to a large department store called Penneys, where the entire country seemed to be shopping at once, and bought more clothes than will probably fit into their luggage.
They browsed the racks of souvenirs in Carrolls gift shop, Dean filling up a basket before noticing the prices and dragging Cas to quieter, cheaper stores to find their trinkets, including several bee magnets Cas quickly picked out for their already overcrowded fridge.
They went on a tour of the Guinness Storehouse and sipped pints of the dark stuff while looking out across the city.
They had a picnic in St. Stephen’s Green Park and wondered why there was a lone ice cream van sitting all by itself in a corner with not a single customer in sight. Dean’s hunter brain told him it was suspicious and he should investigate, but then Cas leaned in for a kiss that tasted like strawberries and orange juice and he forgot all about it.
And then they left to travel the country.
They took in New Grange at the summer solstice, worth the hours of queuing to see the light hit the inner chamber for its one spectacular moment of the year.
They visited The Giant's Causeway, huge basalt columns believed in Irish mythology to be placed there by a giant, something which Cas confirmed to be true despite their tour guide insisting it was actually the result of an ancient volcanic eruption. But Cas just rolled his eyes, stated that he witnessed it first hand, and then dragged a laughing Dean towards the coffee shop as their tour guide stood still and glared after them.
They went kayaking in Carlingford and oh man, Cas in a wetsuit was truly something to behold.
They took a trip to Bundoran in County Donegal, and while not brave enough to try it out for themselves, they watched as confident surfers rode waves crashing down onto the sandy beach below. And when it got late, they nursed pints in pubs along the main street as live music played. As the night wore on, Cas even managed to coax Dean onto the makeshift dancefloor, and they shimmied and swayed together to the music of Joe Dolan.
They drove through so many small towns; Dean only complaining every half hour that he didn’t understand why everyone here drove on the wrong side of the road. They listened to music, and sang, and laughed, and argued about directions, and ate, and drove some more, and Dean marveled at the thought that being on the road could ever be as good as this.
And finally, yesterday evening they arrived here. To a tranquil farmhouse in County Offaly. The rain as they pulled up only added to the beauty of the surrounding countryside and the open cloudy sky above them. They sat outside under the overhang from the roof, wrapped in a huge blanket, and listened to the rain and the subdued sounds of animal life all around them. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d paid attention to birdsong, but right there, his hand laced in Cas’ and their bodies tucked against each other, it seemed like the most important thing in the entire world.
“Well, sweetheart,” Dean smiles, bringing his mind back to the present, “how about we do breakfast first?”
“Are you sure you won’t faint again?” Cas teases.
“Oh, póg mo thóin,” Dean grins in reply.
Cas rolls his eyes. “It that really the only Irish you’ve learned here?”
“No,” dean replies defensively. “Well, mostly. But I can say my name too!” He clears his throat dramatically before continuing. “Dean Winchester is ainm dom.”
Cas smiles. “Well done, you’ll be fluent in no time.”
“And,” Dean says, pausing for emphasis. “I can say something else too.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
He reaches out, gently cupping Cas’ face and trying to ignore how his heart still stutters every single time he looks into his eyes. “Is tú mo ghrá.”
And he watches as Cas’ smile doubles in strength and sincerity, and a flash of pride sparks through his heart knowing that he’s the one who made that happen. And then Cas leans towards him, repeating his words in English as he plants a soft kiss against Dean’s lips. “You are my love.”
“It’s true,” Dean says quietly, his voice a little weaker for the emotion soaking through it. But he doesn’t care. Cas needs to know. For every day they spend together and whatever follows, Cas needs to know what he means to Dean.
“I know,” Cas whispers, and then he presses their lips together once more, hard and serious and filled with a love so true Dean can taste it. “And you, Dean Winchester, are mine.”
____
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for @demonlandline's celebration & the prompt "healing". Hope you like it & congrats!!
He heals you with a touch of his fingers, lightly, quickly. You feel a cold ache as the moment passes but a lasting warmth as his grace moves through you. You imagine that it stays there forever, fusing itself to your soul like a welcome parasite. Lord let me be a host for his touch.
The years go by and you find yourself dodging not away from oncoming fists, but towards them. If you get roughed up enough maybe he'll touch you again, just for a moment. And maybe you'll close your eyes and beg that moment to last until your bones turn to dust and sink into the darkened soil beneath your boots.
He turns to you now as you yelp in surprise, the knife in your hand straying from the tomato to pierce your skin. He walks towards you and lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your palm before pressing his lips against your finger. Your eyes flutter closed as the cut heals and warmth flows through you. But he does not move away. Not anymore. Now is different. Now is better. His mouth finds yours, his hands on your hips as he smiles against you. "There, Dean," he mumbles. "I kissed it better." And it is better. He heals you, but you heal him too. A little more every day, like tiny cuts pulling themselves back together.
Together.
An ex-hunter and your medicinal angel, healing over salad fruit and the soft press of an angel's lips. Promise and commitment and healing big enough to rival angelic grace, and all given with love.
Dean has things he's too afraid to say, so he scribbles them down in a notebook before tearing out the pages and destroying them 💔 (companion to this cas piece. click for quality)
Cas & Dean airplane shenanigans (600 w) especially for the lovely, talented, hilarious @chapeldean Happy birthday ida!!! ❤️
“And another thing,” Dean’s voice cuts out across the overhead speaker, followed by a sharp whine of feedback. “He’s so handsome! I mean, have you seen him? Absolutely devastating!” He pauses for a second, Cas praying he’s finally going to sit down again before he continues. “Y’know what actually? Go ahead folks, take a look at him right now, he’s in row 31.”
Cas slides down in his seat, seriously considering mariticide as several sets of surrounding eyes swivel around to stare at him like he’s the latest attraction at the zoo.
“He is handsome,” a voice whispers.
“I don’t know,” another adds, “kinda looks like just some guy to me.”
Cas sinks further into his seat. He almost misses the days when Dean was so afraid of flying he'd spend the entire flight crushing all of the bones in Cas’ hand. Cas can’t help but smile as he remembers the death grip Dean always had on him, even if they weren’t sitting beside each other. One time they held hands across a disgruntled stranger’s lap. Another time, Dean’s hand snaked through the gap in the seats as he sat behind Cas and hummed Zepplin tracks, his face pressed against the gap and his nose and mouth smushed into the rough material of the seat as he tried to gey closer. But each time, Dean got a little less afraid, and now he flies with confidence. Arguably too much confidence.
At the front of the plane, Cas hears a scuffle as a muted voice mumbles “Sir, you said it was a quick message, it’s been forty five minutes. Please sit down.”
Dean’s reply is muffled by the intercom presumably being wrestled from his hands but Cas does hear the words “Angel”, “Tough crowd”, and “Gay rights,” before a flight attendant's voice sounds out across the speaker.
“Okay, thank you for that, and once again, congratulations to the happy couple on their honeymoon. The Captain has just suggested some quiet time before we begin our preparations for landing and I for one think that’s a fantastic idea.”
With that she switches the mic off, but not before her weary sigh echoes loudly throughout the cabin.
Cas shakes his head as Dean flops into the seat beside him, a grumpy scowl etched into his features.
“Everyone’s a critic,” he mutters, his knee resting against Cas'.
“Dean, you have to stop telling people it’s our honeymoon, we’ve been married for over a year.”
“Shh,” Dean hisses, flapping his hands, “we’re not gonna get anymore free swag if you announce it to the world like that. Any anyway,” he smiles, titling his head into one hand, "everyday with you feels like a honeymoon."
Cas chuckles, simultaneously rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “By the way, thanks for telling everyone to stare at me like I’m a slab of meat.”
Dean just shrugs and winks at him. “Hey, it's not my fault you’re such a looker.”
“That’s not what everyone thought.”
Dean’s eyes narrow. “Who said you weren’t? Which seat?” He digs a hand in his waistband as Cas settles a hand on his arm.
“Dean, firstly, you don’t have any weapons on you. Secondly, you’re an idiot.”
Dean pretends to look annoyed for a moment before shrugging and lacing a hand through Cas’. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”
“Yes,” Cas replies proudly. "You are."
They stare at each other for a moment before a small bag drops suddenly into Cas’ lap. He looks up to see the same flight attendant from the speaker fiasco with a tight smile pulled across her face. “For the happy couple, with compliments from the airline.”
“Now that’s more like it!” Dean grins, already digging through the goods as the woman shakes her head and walks away.
Cas leans over, his shoulder resting comfortably against his excited husband as he tips the bag into their laps. “Well, Dean," he asks, "what did we get this time?”
____
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for day 1 of my creator celebration & the prompt "I'm done waiting". (600 words)
Dean watches Cas retreat, his footsteps echoing through the bunker as he shuffles towards the stairs. Terror spikes through him as dread settles in his bones with the dull weight of realisation. This time is different. This time feels like something they won't be able to come back from.
"Cas, please," Dean mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes sliding to the floor. He's not sure how he even managed to speak with the duel weight of anger and pain crushing his throat. But he listens as the footsteps stop and he holds his breath, and he prays that Cas won't walk out on him. Not this time.
A painful pause follows before the footsteps start up again, moving back towards him now. A spark of relief zips through his veins as hope blossoms. He wants to reach out, to twist his hands in Cas' coat, to never let him go, to beg him to stay, to tell him he's sorry.
"What?" Cas asks, coming to a stop before Dean, his voice laced with a hurt and hesitancy Dean knows he put there.
He looks up and shakes his head, unsure of what to say as Cas stares back at him, where to even begin. "I..." How can he fix everything he's broken? How can he comfort Cas as he mourns the death of their child? How can he tell him that he misses his mom like a limb but behind his misguided anger he just desperately wants the angel to hold him when the tears begin to fall.
"Dean?"
"There's just so many things," he says, not sure where he's going with this. "I keep waiting for peace, the time after all of this, but there's always another fight, always another problem for us to fix." He shakes his head again, holding Cas' gaze as his nails dig into the wooden table and a lump forms in his throat. "I'm so tired, man. I'm tired of being this angry person. I'm tired of hurting everyone all the time. I'm tired of hurting myself. And I'm tired of treating you like shit because I think you're too good to abandon me even though I know I deserve it." He swallows painfully and looks up at Cas, expecting to see anger or confusion but instead he is met only with unexpected softness etched into angel eyes as he listens to Dean. Its spurs him on as he continues. "I'm tired of waiting for the things I want, and I-I don't think I can do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore." He takes a shuddering breath, keeping his eyes locked on Cas as his heart hammers in his chest. "Cas," he says, the name spoken like a prayer as he stands up on shaky legs, "I'm tired of waiting."
Before Cas can respond, Dean steps forward and gently cups Cas' face in his unsteady hands. Before the shock on the angel's face can register he leans in. Before his brain can tell him this is a horrible idea, he kisses Cas, slow and soft and filled with years of want, with years of hidden love. Cas hesitates for a fraction of a moment before kissing back, his lips soft and inviting.
When they finally break apart, dean feels dizzy, his heart fluttering and light as he leans his forehead against Cas' and tries to remember how to breathe. "I'm sorry, Cas," he whispers into the breathe between them. "For everything. And I want you to stay. I just...I want you, Cas. Please say you'll stay."
Cas laughs softly and closes his eyes as Dean watches a solo tear slide slowly down his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean. All you had to do was ask."
______
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