#thursdaycas

[starchildean]

i can honestly say i've never heard any Missouri stereotypes. but i find it really cool that you live in Missouri cus i've never been there, met anyone from there, or know of anyone from there. so your like this rare never-before-seen bird to me rn.

I’m glad someone thinks cool, I want to get the fuck out of here so bad ugh 

SEND ME A STEREOTYPE ABOUT MY STATE (MISSOURI) AND I WILL TELL YOU IF IT APPLIES TO ME.

[boykingdom]

As it would happen, nothing goes smooth and pretty. As it would happen, Dean and Cas don’t act on their feelings spontaneously and cinematic; they don’t cut ties with hunting as though it were nothing more than a dirty relationship. As it would happen, they never do get around to starting that b-and-b in Vermont.

(As it would happen. The Vonnegut in Dean loves that. As it would happen. If the accident will.)

But it’s still good. It’s damn good. The best Dean’s ever had. They still live in the bunker, something oddly fitting about it that Dean couldn’t find the will to part with. Sometimes one of them gets hurt on a hunt and shirts are torn into makeshift bandages. Sometimes Dean still wakes up from a Hell-induced nightmare gasping for air around the scream stuck in his throat, disoriented enough to believe himself on the rack.

Those things aren’t different. They’re harsh truths that circumstance has forced them to try to adapt to. But there is difference in the way Cas shakes and holds him close after a hunt goes sideways. The intimacy with which they touch each other as they carefully tend to wounds–unabashedly tender in the way they would have been afraid to be before. The way that Dean no longer wakes up alone except for his pounding heart but with Cas, who grounds him and wipes his tears and calls him “beloved” and kisses him, kisses him hot and slow until the nightmares withdraw like the tide and sleep comes once more.

Yeah. As it would happen.

There is a gospel told in their trail of salt and motel sheets stained with rust-colored blood, and as it would happen, their trail ended here.

It ended red and raw, a scrape sensitive to the touch, and where it once was a new moon there is now light in the way that Castiel smiles and feels under his hands, and yeah, it’s not perfect, but Dean thinks it’s pretty damn good.

[boykingdom]

 “I’m glad that I met you.”

The words are whispered into the darkness of the motel room, the stars and their night the only ones listening. Their heads are turned. An angel speaks.

“I thank my Father every single day that I met you. For Him giving you to me.”

Dean can’t hear him, of course. His solo hunt had been long and hard–the wendigo had almost killed him, in fact–and he had gone into a dreamless sleep the second he’d been able to put his weary body into bed. Castiel sits in a chair beside his bed, speaking only as quietly as he can so as not to wake him, his back ramrod straight. He hasn’t quite figured out how to slouch and give into nonchalance, yet.

Dean’s face while he sleeps is the most beautiful thing he’s ever known, he thinks. 

Because it’s been six months on Earth since Castiel met Dean, since Dean Winchester is saved was ripped from his voice in a cry of joy, since his life became the categories of “before” and “after”. And in those six months, not once has he seen Dean–his Dean, his Righteous Man, his after–look quite this peaceful. Hell had turned his features hard. It had given him a cast of marble where he had once been so pliant. Castiel wishes he had known him back them, if maybe they could have been something like friends, if maybe they could have been. 

But he feels like he’s getting a glimpse of that softer version of Dean now. His eyelashes fan out to kiss his cheeks and his mouth is gently parted, making him look less like a man and more like the boy soldier he really is. He’s too tired for nightmares; he sinks into the mattress like his muscles are made of lead. There’s something so open in his expression that Castiel wants to–feels like he needs to–tell him everything. Him and the night, and all of its stars, and the universe which has loved Dean just as it has loved all great heroes, loved him dearly. Castiel was built from the fabric of the universe. Perhaps, then, his feelings can only make sense. 

I’m glad that I met you, Castiel says, and in it he tells Dean that he loves him, feels it within the bones he wishes were his. He keeps talking.

“I know that there is much I do not understand, but…” Castiel swallows, licks his lips. “But I think I’m starting to understand what you mean to me. All that I would do in your name. And I’m scared.”

He is scared. He’s terrified. He’s terrified because if he were ever asked to choose between Heaven and Dean Winchester, he tells himself that he doesn’t know which he’d choose, but he knows. He knows. It can happen so quickly, a shift in faith. 

“We’ve only known each other for a very short amount of time, and I know you to be not very fond of me, but I feel like…like you’re a part of me. Of my Grace. I look at you sometimes, and I want–”

Castiel stops abruptly, mortified. It’s one thing to think it and another entirely to say. But he looks at Dean, and oh God, he wants. 

“I want to kiss you,” he shakes out, “and whatever that might mean.”

To kiss him, to hold him, to take him to bed. To worship at the altar of his body.

Dean Winchester is his most beautiful blasphemy. His favorite quiet rebellion. 

And so Castiel sits there for a few very long minutes, synchronizes his breathing with his charge’s. It is such a warm and intimate moment full of both inner turmoil and inner peace, and Castiel wonders if he were to climb into Dean’s bed, protected him and held him just as when he raised him, if Dean would allow it. If it was something he would want. He hopes that he does just as much as he hopes that he doesn’t.

There’s something building in his chest that claws and begs and wants so fiercely, and it’s only now that Castiel recognizes it as pining. It is such a lovely, hurting, human thing–a side effect of love, he supposes. 

(Castiel will learn, later, that falling is also a side effect of love. As is rebellion, and sin, and betrayal, and ancient stories rewritten in haphazard manuscript and hot, angry tears.)

“Thank you, Dean,” he whispers, so, so quietly, “for holding on when I raised you. For letting me find you.”

How is this anything but holy? How is this not Heaven? These are the questions he has; these are his doorways to doubt. The so-called crack in his chassis.

But he has a job to do, and siblings to appease, and lies to tell himself. Later, he’ll tell himself that this exchange between him and Dean Winchester’s sleeping form never happened; that he was confused. For now, though, he stands. Castiel reaches for Dean’s face as if to touch it, to satisfy some alien ache in his fingertips for the connection, but he draws his hand back before it can be made. Even the smallest risk is too much. 

He flies, leaves his longing in that dusty motel room, and turns himself to steel once more.

Too caught up in stream of consciousness and confused, desperate yearning, Castiel neglected to notice some very unnoticeable things. 

Small things. Like the slight quickening of a heartbeat or the minuscule movements of hands shaking under blankets. 

There is a familiar flutter of wings and the displaced smell of winter air. Dean Winchester opens his eyes and lets out a rattling breath.

He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, willing himself to think of nothing at all. 

[destieldrabblesdaily]

but like dean pining after cas even though dean's popular and cas is like this weird dorky little guy. if you've already written it please direct me cus i need this right now

Hmm, I think I have written several things with popular Dean and dorky Cas, but I’m not sure if it ever involved pining from Dean’s side. :\ I’ll go through my drabbles tag later today to see if I can find it, and if so, I’ll reblog it! If not, I’ll add it to the list. 

[thursdaycastiel-blog]

thursdaycas said: what? what is this? source please omg i haven’t heard this

source was 2 of my friends and idk about their sources but with jared not feeling all to well at the moment a longer between-season break seems likely ;U;

[chevroletdean]

d(︶ω︶)b (I did it holy shit)

d(︶ω︶)b- Favorite song

Depends on my mood and even then changes frequently. At the moment I love Old Scars / Future Hearts by All Time Low and Lane Boy by Twenty One Pilots

[celestialcas]

prompt: “I almost lost you…” Destiel

Requested by anon

WARNING: Includes mention of suicidal thoughts, description of accident, etc. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. 

It was a stupid argument. An argument that shouldn’t have happened, but did. Dean came home from his EMT shift, and saw Cas had went ahead and picked new wall colors and curtains for the living room without Dean knowing. 

Cas begged with Dean and screamed through tears that he wanted to only surprise him, that he didn’t mean for this to happen. Dean had been irritable lately, so the smallest things set him off, and he usually lashed out on Cas. 

He didn’t really mean it, he loved Cas to death, but Dean just couldn’t handle his always cheery attitude, even when Sam had landed in the hospital due to pneumonia a week ago. 

The argument lead on, their voices rising higher.

Cas wiped his eyes on his sleeves, and stumbled out the door. 

“Cas? Cas! Where are you going? Cas!” Dean called after Cas, but he didn’t stop him. Cas kept walking and climbed into his car, quickly pulling out of the driveway. 

Dean slammed his fists on the doorway and grunted, “Dammit.” He clenched his fists tighter and grabbed his keys, making his way outside. He had a small idea of where Cas would be heading, so he made his way down the highway. 

It was dark outside when Dean pulled into Jo’s Diner, where they had their first date. He scanned the parking lot and didn’t see Cas’s car anywhere. He decided he would ask Jo if she saw him, but as he climbed out of the Impala, two ambulances screamed by Dean, rushing down I65. Dean watched them fly by, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach that something was wrong with Cas. He checked his phone for EMT alerts, and saw one from 15 minutes ago.

Severe car accident on Steering RD. One injuries needing flyout, Party 3. Three people involved, one conscious, two unconscious. Request EMT and Shock Trauma helicopter STAT. 

Dean’s heart was racing. What’re the odds it was Cas? He had a gut wrenching feeling that it was him, and he’d hate himself if he didn’t bother to check. 

As Dean arrived on scene, time froze around him. Everything moved in slow-motion once he saw Cas’s car crumpled like paper, resting against a side-rail. He let out a blood curdling scream, and lept out of his car. His boots scraped against the glass and parts of cars scattered among the road. 

Cas. Cas was bent in such an unnatural way, Dean felt like vomiting at the sight of him. His body was limp, lifeless almost. He was trapped. The front and side of his car was smashed into him. 

Dean screamed Cas’s name, over and over, clawing at the door trying to get him out. 

“Cas! Cas!” Dean began choking on his tears. “Cas, buddy, you can’t leave me. You can’t leave me. I love you, I love you, I-” 

The EMT’s dragged Dean backwards as three other EMT’s began cutting away at the car. Dean was thrashing in their arms, screaming, trying to get Cas back. 

This was a nightmare. First Sam and now Cas, two people that were keeping him alive on this earth. Without them, Dean was-is-nothing and he knew it. If he lost them, he would end himself. 

“Sir! Sir, we need you to calm down.”

Dean heard their voices, but he made nothing of them. His entire focus was on Cas’s limp body being pulled from the car and placed onto a stretcher.

Dean ears rang, his head spun, breathing picking up.

“Is…is he dead?” Dean turned to John, a coworker at the hospital, “Is he dead?”

John shook his head, “No, but he isn’t doing well either, by the looks of it.”

“What…happened?”

“From an eyewitness, he looked to have been blinded by tears. They said he looked like he was crying. So, his car swerved off into the other lane and hit a Durango head on.” 

Dean felt dead on the inside, his body crumpled to the ground, but John caught him before he hit.

“We’re going to take you to the hospital. Give Mike your keys and he’ll drive your Impala for you.”

Dean reached for his keys, and with his hands shaking, dropped them in Mike’s hands. 

They arrived to the hospital, and Dean ran to the service desk.

“Castiel…Novak. Please.”

The nurse searched the name and pursed her lips together.

“Sorry, sir, but you can’t go in there right now. They’re still doing work on him. It may take a few days, can we call you when we get word on his state?”

Dean wanted to punch something, but instead he balled up his fists. “Are you kidding me? I can’t see my own boyfriend?” 

The nurse stepped back in surprise, “Sir, he’s uh, in critical condition. He may or may not make it. Which is why…”

Dean slammed a fist to the counter, “I want to see him.”

“Sir…I can call you as soon as I find out his condition.”

Dean knew she was trying to help but he couldn’t help but be on edge. Using all of his might, he sighed and nodded his head. “I’ll write down my number for you…”

The nurse took his number and Dean left the hospital, making his way back to the back garage and found his Impala.

He rested his head on the steering wheel, and let out a scream which followed with streams of tears. After a half an hour, Dean finally collected himself and pulled out making his way home. 

Three days. Three days has gone by and Dean was numb. He barely left bed. He cut off contact with everyone, and only checked his phone for the phone call.

Minutes after 10AM, his phone rang. Dean frantically fumbled for his phone, and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Dean. It’s nurse Jess calling to let you know Cas is in stable condition and awake in room 303…but I must warn you…”

Dean didn’t let her finish before he hung up, speeding his way to the hospital. 

He ran through the doors and ran up three flights of stairs, making his way to Cas’s room. Before he reached it, a doctor stopped him.

“Who are you?”

“Dean Winchester, Castiel’s boyfriend.”

The doctor’s face fell, “Oh…well, I feel as if I should tell you…”

“Tell me what?” Dean demanded.

“Cas has serious brain damage. He hit his head fairly hard. He’s okay, but some of his memories are lost.”

Dean was stunned. 

“…You’re one of those he remembered luckily, but he’ll need some help learning to walk again and retaining memories.”

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, and made his way into the room. His eyes fell on Cas who was awake and looked like a child staring out the window. His face was bruised, cuts lined his body, along with bandages. 

“Cas?”

Cas turned his head and locked eyes with Dean.

“….Dean?”

Dean fell to his knees, by Cas’s bedside. The tears streamed down his face and fell on to the sheets. Dean’s body shook violently as he cried, Cas weakly rested a hand on Dean’s. 

“I love you Dean.”

Dean wiped his eyes and rested his head between his hands on top of the bed.

“I almost lost you.”

[anklebonecollector]

thursdaycas

replied to your post

“Who’s the guy and who’s the wife” Mom mom mom shut up shut the fuck...”

right?

im so ups eyt im gunna cry tbh ugh is it september yet i need to leave and never come back