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NIALL HORAN photographed by Hailey Heaton for GQ HYPE (2026)

Dear Alex, I can't think of a single way to start this email except to say you're incredible.

RED WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2023)

Lines

“Can you tilt your face to the right? Just a little bit.”

Dean had to be careful not to drop his pencil. His palms were sweaty, no matter how hard he tried to calm himself.

„Like this?“ Cas asked. He lay on Dean’s bed, only dressed in thin cotton trousers.

The dim light hit Castiel’s skin in just the right way. It accentuated his facial features and gave depth to his muscles that were visible, now that the angel had rid himself of his shirt.

Dean took a deep breath and let his hand guide the pencil across the paper, let the pencil glide over the already sketched out lines until he found a rhythm.

Cas had found his old sketch book as they packed. Dean had never shown his work to anyone. He wasn’t an artist or anything like that. Drawing was just another way to release stress. At least it used to be.

And never had he been asked to draw someone. The people he drew were usually strangers, or his family based on memory.

When Cas had turned the pages to a drawing of himself, trenchcoat and all, standing in a field of grass next to a windmill, he had paused as his lips parted. He had looked at Dean then, and his gaze was so gentle that Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.

„Would you draw me now?“ Cas had asked. His voice was soft, almost unsure if he was allowed to break their silence.

„Of course.“

So Dean had asked him to make himself comfortable on the bed as he himself sat down in the chair at the desk.

That wasn’t exactly what he had planned for the evening, but he couldn’t deny that it excited him. It was the first time that his model was right in front of him and unmoving.

Cas lay perfectly still, his eyes the only movement Dean noticed. Cas observed him from his spot on the mattress. They didn’t speak unless it was about a change in position. The sound of the pencil on paper filled the room and after a while, managed to calm Dean’s nerves.

He didn’t know how long it took until he was satisfied with his work, but based on the pain in his neck, it took a while.

Dean licked his lips.

„Done.“

Cas began to move again. He sat up in bed and made space as Dean went over to him.

He carefully took the drawing from Dean’s hands, and the gentle expression found its way back onto his face.

Cas‘ fingers lightly brushed over the lines as he looked at it.

„Thank you, Dean.“

Dean let out a nervous laugh.

„Nothing to thank me for.“ Dean’s voice was quiet. He looked at Cas, let his gaze wander over his face and down to his chest. It was a nice chest.

When he looked up again, Cas smiled at him. It reached his eyes and let them appear bluer.

„What?“

„Didn’t you just spend hours looking at me?“ Cas tilted his head, and Dean knew the question was in good humour.

„Do you want me to stop?“

„No.“

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Kiss #14 - A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

50 types of kisses masterpost. Also posted on ao3.

Pulling Cas from the Empty had taken everything Dean had and more. To not say a word as he looped his arms under Cas and pulled him close felt like having his heart ripped out all over again. To not let the Empty know what they were attempting in fear they’d be stopped before they escaped. He’d lost Cas too many times and he was not losing him again.

Cas' mouth formed a word as their hands brushed together; his name on Cas’ lips as black goo spilled out past his teeth and across his lips.

“Don’t speak,” Dean whispered, pressing his lips to the shell of Cas’ ear as he used his torn sleeve to wipe the dripping blackness from Cas’ chin. Torn from fighting his way through the darkness; past demons and monsters Dean wasn’t even sure existed except for the shreds of his clothes as proof.

“Follow me,” Dean said, words just barely a ghost of a breath into Cas’ ear. He lingered for a second, letting his lips press ever-so-softly against Cas’ earlobe in a desperate fleeting kiss. If he couldn’t speak the words yet, couldn’t utter his own declaration until they were free, then he’d let his touches do the talking. A soft kiss here and a gentle caress there as Dean ran his hands over Cas’ body in the darkness.

Cas was alive; chest moving up and down in short little bursts beneath Dean’s palm. Cas’ fingers gripped against Dean’s collar in a fumbling grasp, and Dean pressed his fingertips firmly against Cas’ hipbone as he pulled Cas to his feet. Alive and in one piece. Time to get the hell out of here.

Wrapping his arm around Cas’ waist, Dean closed his eyes and trusted his instincts as they stumbled through the pitch-black back towards the portal he’d entered through. Distinctly, he heard the growling that had creeped around him a mere few minutes ago, and he used his free hand to slide the angel blade from inside his jacket. Bring on every single monster. Dean would fight them all and tear them to pieces in order to get Cas back. But then Cas was tugging urgently at his sleeve; a thick sense of fear palpable in the air and it settled on Dean’s tongue.

No more fighting. No more running away. Time to run forwards, together, into their future.

Fingers burning a print into Cas’ skin through the trenchcoat and suit, Dean used his free arm to push through the encroaching suffocating inky blackness. The threatening growls were getting closer; clawing at their clothes and trying to pull them back into the depths of nothingness.

Dean pushed harder; grip bruising against Cas’ side as they stumbled on.

And finally.

Into light.

Sharp bursts of brightness that had them both gasping for air.

Cas coughed and spluttered, the dripping remains of the Empty falling from his lips and onto the Bunker’s concrete floor. Tugging off the remains of his jacket, Dean wiped across Cas’ face again, removing the last traces of darkness and revealing beautiful blue eyes blown wide in shock.

Somebody pushed a glass of water towards them; maybe Sam or was it Eileen? Dean wasn’t sure. Whoever it was patted his shoulder and stepped away to give him and Cas space.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, voice hoarse and cracking on the word.

Pressing the water into Cas’ hand, Dean urged him to drink; watching as any lingering traces of the darkness slipped away and Cas was Cas again.

“Oh, Cas,” Dean murmured once Cas had finished the water, fingers smoothing through Cas’ hair and pulling him close until their bodies were pressed together.

There were a million things Dean wanted to say:

I’m sorry.

Please stay.

Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.

Be mine.

Instead, Dean stroked softly down the back of Cas’ neck and tilted their heads until their foreheads rested against each other. Cas’ hands automatically settled on Dean’s lower back, and the touch alone was enough to have Dean shivering with pent-up emotions that were threatening to spill out between them.

“Tell me you meant it. Tell me you love me,” Dean gasped out. Please, please, please tell me you love me as much as I love you.

Cas nodded frantically, clutching at Dean’s back until Dean swore there was a new handprint seared across his spine.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, broken and etched with longing. “I love you.” Said quietly yet with so much devotion.

Dean yanked Cas impossibly closer, ghosting his lips against Cas’ in the faintest hint of a kiss. “I’m so in love with you,” he said. Not just love. But in love. Utterly, ridiculously, deeply head over heels in love with his best friend. Those words he’d been repeating every night while his finger traced over the picture of Cas in his wallet. Except now it was real. Fingers skimming over soft skin as opposed to glossy paper.

And then it wasn’t just fingers against skin.

Lips met in a frantic kiss, arms wrapping around each other in a desperate haste Dean hadn’t felt before. Their mouths collided together, sliding at just the right angle to have Dean shuddering and gasping for more.

He wasn't sure which of them was more desperate for this, but now that he'd discovered the taste of Cas' mouth against his own, he couldn't stop himself from diving in for another kiss and another as Cas' hands fumbled over Dean's torn flannel shirt. The desperation fizzled into Dean’s fingertips, and he scrambled to glide his touch over every inch of Cas’ body he could reach. Mouths moved as one as Dean’s fingers flittered over Cas’ neck and his jaw and down to rest over his heart.

Cas scrambled to pull Dean closer, one hand settling to pull on the loops of Dean’s jeans while the other wrapped around his back.

One second the kiss was hot and heavy as they panted into each other’s mouths, and then everything drained away until the press of lips was soft and slow. Dean traced the outline of Cas’ lips with his own, memorizing the way their mouths melded together. Cas tilted his head slightly, and Dean chased him; gentle caresses of lips seeking each other out to echo the words of love.

While their mouths softened into kisses like butter, their hands gripped even tighter; winding around each other until Dean was sure they had become one. He never wanted the kiss to end, and, judging by the fact Cas was puffing little gasps of air through his nose but still leaning into the kiss, he knew Cas felt the same.

Gently, Dean shifted the kisses until they were just ever-so-slightly brushing their lips together in chaste little pecks that felt even more tender than any of the deep kisses they’d just shared.

“Stay,” Dean whispered against Cas’ mouth, searing the words against swollen lips.

Cas finally broke the kisses, instead tucking his head into Dean’s shoulder as their embrace morphed into a frantic hug with hands clutched against waists. “Not going anywhere,” Cas murmured, pressing the confession into Dean’s throat.

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You are a hole in my life, a black hole. Anything I place there cannot be returned. I miss you terribly. Ci vedremo lassu, angelo. HOLDING THE MAN (2015) dir. Neil Armfield

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