Did you notice that after some Tbag fuckery, pics or interviews mentioning "the husband" she gets sick nervous about Sam's reaction and suddenly starts liking his stuff and tagging him on hers? it's a big red flag, a pattern. And she does it to kinda placate him whenever he gets pissed at her last bullshitfest, but I get the impression that this time around it's not working because he's totally silent and avoiding like hell to engage with her on SM. I checked and the last time he liked something related to her was October 31th on Twitter and almost two months ago September 19th on IG when Belfast won the TIFF award.
I noticed that Sam is strangely quiet and would agree with you that it seems like he’s ignoring everything and anything to do with Cait, which is more than odd. I’ve noticed that she did try to engage him in their usual SM banter, maybe a little bit more in the last few days, but she tried even before the ass grabbing fiasco. Something is off between them and in the last photos she looks distant, unhappy. She’s smiling but…
@silentsam answered your question “:> Any Dean prompts for super short ficlets?”
sam and cas surprising him with a birthday pie !!
Dean hates the blindfold. It makes him feel weak and useless, but Sam insists that it’ll help them to learn to navigate their surroundings even while incapacitated that way - but even the bunker just seems too big to comprehend, and in the darkness, he suddenly doesn’t know its corridors and rooms as well as he thought he did. Maybe it’s because he had Sam bring him around a few times like that until he lost track of where exactly they were, or maybe he’s just really bad at navigating things blind, but he’s not entirely sure which corridor this is. He feels doors, but none of the handles feel like the handles to the bedrooms. The storage, maybe?
The air should be cooler there. Drier. Dustier. But it’s not. So maybe these are the doors to the bedrooms, but just not in the exact place he thought he was in?
Dean’s ears are ringing. He stops to breathe and listen: the last time he heard Sam was probably twenty minutes ago, and ever since, the bunker’s been awfully quiet.
“Sammy?” he calls out, his voice uncertain, “Hey, uh, you out there, man?”
No answer.
Swallowing a grunt, Dean places his hand back on the wall and starts tracking his way down the corridor, but this time, he’s quiet. If that son of a bitch is lurking nearby, snickering at him -
Then, something knocks, perhaps a chair against the floor; the sound echoes through the space Dean’s in, and he suddenly knows where he is. The kitchen corridor. He doesn’t hang around here much, there’s no need to; they use the other entrance to the sparring room. But it’s definitely the kitchen corridor, and the sound came from the war room. Now with steady steps, Dean follows the sound and the feel of the space around him towards a new destination.
Sam just left him there, alone? What if he knocked into something and got injured?
In an empty corridor?
Another grunt. He finds the doorway to the kitchen and navigates his way, now much more efficiently, through the familiar space. From there, the way to the war room is short, and before long he’s standing there feeling achieved and proud, and the chair knocks against the floor again and Sam’s laughing.
“You found me,” he says in a happy tone as he moves beside Dean and starts undoing the blindfold for him.
“I swear this is the worst exercise you ever made up, Sammy,” Dean grunts as pressure relieves over his face and the cloth no longer buries into his skin.
“I’m sorry. I had to keep you busy for ten, fifteen minutes.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Look,” Sam laughs and the blindfold comes off.
The first thing that Dean sees is Castiel, sitting at the table and beaming at him; his blue eyes seem light and unweary today, and he’s happy, and it’s been such a damn long time since Dean saw him out of battle, unscathed, that his smile awkwardly catches onto Dean’s lips as well. His heart skips a beat as he looks at Sam, brows raised; the gang’s there, alright.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Don’t you know what date it is?” Sam chuckles, now a little disbelieving, “C’mon. Think.”
“It’s January, twenty... oh.”
Dean turns his gaze back to Castiel, and from there, to the table. Now he sees the big pie laid out there with whipped cream on top of it, and he swallows before turning back to Sam.
“We don’t do birthdays, Sammy,” he reminds him uncertainly.
“I thought we might as well start. I mean, 38 - it’s a good number for a hunter, right? So - happy birthday, big brother.”
“Happy birthday, Dean,” Castiel chimes in, his smile widening.
He pulls out the chair at the end of the table and turns it towards Dean.
Swallowing again, Dean feels a small shiver cross his spine. His smile trembles a little as he steps forwards, legs shaking, and takes the seat.
“Happy birthday to me,” he mutters quietly as Sam sits next to him, and with his heart still skipping from joy, he takes the first big slice out of the pie and slams it down on his plate.
hey bud!!!! anyways i watched s3 last night at 2am and i'm still sweating. just an update
hey bud!!! i woke up at 2:30am and finished it at 5:45am and started to get ready for work at 6 and I’m delirious still so I completley relate but it iS WORTH IT SO WORTH IIIT
