rebel-cas:

He wakes up in a familiar room. Not his. Because he doesn’t have one.

He blinks and sits up. Draped across a chair in the corner is his trench coat. He tried to get up, but his body won’t let him. Instead, he groans and slumps back against the headboard.

“Oh, hey, you’re up,” Dean mutters as he strides across his own room in the bunker and sets a glass of water on the nightstand beside Cas.

Cas looks up at him and silently asks the hunter how long he’s been unconscious.

“Been out three days,” Dean sits himself at the end of the bed, replying to Cas’ nonverbal question.

“He’s back in the cage. Crowley sent his demons to find Rowena in purgatory. She got out and did a spell and bam! Don’t think she was too happy with Lucifer killing her.”

Still not willing to speak, Cas reaches for the glass of water. He lowers his eyes and takes a sip, mulling over the taste of particles.

“Didn’t know if you would make it.” Dean suddenly sits up straighter. “Rowena didn’t know what would happen to you. But we had to take the risk.”

Cas can feel Dean scoot a little closer. “Had to get you back.”

Cas places the glass of water back beside him and squirms as much as he can to be as far away from Dean as possible.

He’s embarrassed. Instead of helping to defeat Amara, the only thing he did was distract the Winchesters even more and set another evil in the world.

He recalls Ambriel’s words. Expendable. He was definitely expendable. With him around, he only got in the way.

He finally looks up at Dean. And he’s decided. He needs to go. He needs to return to heaven and stay there. At the very least. He shouldn’t touch humanity again. Dean and Sam will figure out a way to defeat the Darkness and carry on. They would. They’re the heroes.

“Don’t,” Dean croaks out. Adamantly. “Don’t even think about about leaving.”

Cas isn’t exactly sure how or when Dean started to understand him without having to say anything; it never used to be like this. Dean rarely understood his motives in the past.

He’s so busy pondering this, he doesn’t notice that Dean is sitting at the end of the nightstand, and not the bed, by this point.

“Cas.”

He looks up at Dean again with Jimmy Novak’s blue eyes.

“You’re needed. We need you. Always,” Dean shrugs, and Cas can tell that he’s going to try to lighten the mood. “Who’s going to be our wingman?”

Cas frowns. Dean knows that his wings are in tatters and that they’re barely useful. Was he trying to him feel worse?

“Not like that, Cas. I mean, who’s going to save our asses when we need it? And don’t say Crowley. As much as he’s useful, I can’t ever trust him.”

Dean nudges his blanket-covered thighs. “Stay, okay. Just stay. I need you. I always need you.”

Cas doesn’t realize how much he needed those words. Dean had never asked him to stay before. Everyone kept telling him to go.

So overcome with gratitude, Cas does the only thing he can. He flings his arms around Dean’s neck.

Dean’s arms come up and tighten around him. “I need you more than you know, Cas. I’m sorry you didn’t know, but I do. I need you to stay. Please.”

Cas shoves his head into the crook of Dean’s neck and breathes in. Because for the first time in a long time, Dean makes him feel like he’s home. That he has a home.

He nods aggressively, hoping that Dean can feel how much he wants it.

“Dean.”

puppycastiel:

11.06 “Our Little World” coda, in which they have the talk. 1.1K.

Dean lingers in Cas’ doorway, shifting awkwardly on his feet, ignoring the flutter in his belly at the thought of Cas having a room at the bunker. Of course, Cas couldn’t stay in Sam’s forever, and there simply comes a point when someone has watched too many episodes of Jenny Jones. He’d messed up at the start; telling Cas to leave that first time around was yet another one of a myriad things he kept blocked out. And now, with Cas settled in, he’d screwed it up again. But what else was new.

“Dean, come in,” Cas calls from the bed. His hair is disheveled, splayed dark across the pillow. He shifts his weight onto both his elbows, watching Dean as he walks into the room, and when they’re close enough, he extends his hand, a gesture Dean accepts - grasps - like a lifeline.

“I didn’t mean-” Dean blurts out, at the same time Cas says, “I apologize.” They still, blinking at each other, before the tension breaks into soft, mirroring smiles.

“You first,” Cas offers kindly.

“Oh,” Dean clears his throat, then walks around the bed to sit beside Cas. He chalks up the movement to buying himself more time but, to be honest, he’s just missed Cas. A lot. His presence and warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters with a sigh. “Dunno why I keep hurtin’ you like that.” He gathers the courage to turn his head and finds Cas looking back with fondness.

“Dean, if it’s ‘hurt’ you mean to discuss, I’m the one who-”

“Hey, no, I already told you that I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Silence falls between them once more, strung tight, and Dean curses up a storm inside his head, fists clenched. “Dean,” Cas murmurs, reaching across his lap to take Dean’s hand. He uncurls the fingers one by one then raises them to his lips to kiss each knuckle.

“What’re you doing,” Dean flushes red, though he doesn’t do anything to pull away. He just waits, heart racing fast, for Cas to place those five little kisses.

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collectionofdestiel:

“I love you, sugar plum.”

“Dean-“

“You’re my sweet honey suckle.”

“Stop-“

“My fluffy little love bunny.”

“Dean!” The fallen angel sent a glare across the diner’s table. “I was an Angel of the Lord! I am most certainly not a ‘fluffy little love bunny’ or a ‘sugar plum’ or ‘sweet honey suckle’. I am a warrior.”

The hunter rolled his eyes with a shit-eating grin before leaning over and placing his hand on Cas’. “Sweetheart, you might have been an Angel of the Lord but now you’re my little love monkey.”

“I am no such thing.” Cas scoffed but couldn’t hide the small upturn of his lips. “If I was, then you would be my… cuddly platypus.”

Dean snorted so abruptly that he sent himself in a coughing fit. It took him a few moments to calm himself down enough to shake his head and grin so lovingly at the other man it took his breath away. “You are something, you know that? ‘Cuddly platypus’? You really know how to charm a guy.”

“I am not very versed in nicknames for romantic partners. It was the first thing that came to my mind.” Cas’ tone was defensive as he sent his boyfriend a pleading look. “I am trying to fit in.”

“Wanna know a secret?” Dean leaned up over the table to place a quick chaste kiss on Cas’ lips. “You don’t need to fit in. I love you just the way you are and if that means being your cuddly platypus then that’s fine by me.”

“Really?” There was unmistakable hope sparkling behind those wide blue eyes.

“Yes, dumby. I love you and all your little quirks. Makes you you. No one else in the world would have come up with ‘cuddly platypus’ and that’s what makes you so goddamn perfect.” Dean stole another kiss, not being able to help himself, before settling back against his booth. “Now, you want to split an order of fries? I’m thinking we can have dessert for our main course.”

“That sounds wonderful, snuggly kitten.”

“Cas-“

“Yes, schnookums?”

“I love you, buttercup.”

“I love you, too, honey bun.”

yamiaki96fanfic:

Your body against mine. Whether we’re asleep or having sex or I’m just holding you. I really like holding you.

When you’re the first thing I see in the morning. You look so peaceful when you sleep, Cas. Like a, well you know.

When hear you smiling over the phone and knowing I’m the reason why.

When you crawl on top of me and kiss me good morning, then just lay there.

That you’re a space heater, but you’re always freezing so you get 40 blankets and curl up against me with your damn cold feet against my legs.

The freckle on the inside of your thigh

The way you moan when I bite your nipples.

I like to remember the nights in the Impala when you just pop in and we drive for hours. I like pulling over and making out in the backseat. Or listening to you talk about the stars. Just because you can’t pop in anymore, doesn’t mean anything has to change.

You’re so damn perfect, Cas.

When you slip your hand down the back of my shorts at night.

I love your scar. I’m sorry you hate it. I’ve got scars too, baby.

I’m sorry for how I treated you for so long, Cas. I’m sorry I made you feel like I wanted you for your powers. I’m sorry I called you a baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. That it took using you to realize how important you really were. I’m sorry you lost your wings for me.

I can’t promise I’ll come back to you, Cas. I can’t promise I’ll be whole if I do. All I can promise is that if I die, I’ll die loving you, and knowing that you loved me back.

I miss you everyday.

“Are you alright, Castiel?” Cas looked up from the note and met Hannah’s worried eyes.

“Yes. Of course. I’m just thinking about the mission.”

“What are you reading?”

Castiel looked down again at Dean’s writing and felt a small smile on his face.

“Just something important for me to remember.” He folded the note and put it back in his pocket.

“About Heaven?” Cas smiled in a way that Hannah had never seen. His eyes were far away when he answered.

“Yes, Hannah. Heaven.”

(Part 1)

yamiaki96fanfic:

Sam grumbled indignantly as he pulled the laundry basket from the back the Impala. Since when did Dean use paper when they did rock, paper, scissors?

He walked into the laundromat, glad that no one was there. He didn’t think he could explain the blood on their clothes from the werewolf they just took down.

He threw the clothes into separate washers. Dean’s clothes had gotten the worst of it and Sam didn’t want to risk getting his worse.

Sam checked Dean’s pockets, used to his brother leaving things and getting angry if their washed (money, his phone, the occasional dirty picture.)

Sam’s fingers brushed a piece of paper in one pair and he grinned. Finders keepers.

It wasn’t a picture or money, but a folded up note. There creases in random places, like it had been opened then refolded the wrong way. It looked well read.

He put the rest of the clothes in and started them before sitting down and opened the folded paper to see Cas’s messy hand writing.

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casinthongs:

casinthongs:

Aug 16th - prompt: librarian!Cas; inspired by x (1.1k words)

“Excuse me?”

The library is more or less empty at lunchtime with their ‘no eating’ policy. Most people are out, dining at Benny’s or nearby cafés, so it’s a surprise when Cas looks up from the book he’s currently scanning into the registry and sees a man standing right at his desk.

And what a man it is.

Cas clears his throat and corrects the glasses on his nose. There must be something wrong with them because nobody has eyes this green. “Yes?”

He can’t be a college kid. He’s a man, not a boy. Late twenties. Maybe early thirties. Or maybe Cas’s glasses are fooling him today.

The man is looking at him, frowning in thought. “Have—” he starts, and shakes his head, eyes flying down to the book he’s holding, and then daring to rest on him again. “This is going to sound crazy, but… Have we met before?”

A pick-up line.

A gorgeous man, with Introduction to Quantum Mechanics in his arms is flirting with him. Now, that hasn’t happened in a long while.

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whelvenwings:

some serious angst with a happy ending, based on some art that @linneart drew in her amazing livestream the other night. *warning for temporary major character death.* cry with me, everyone.

(read it here on AO3)

Cas can’t see.

The world is a harsh white haze grazing over his mind, whiplash streaks of red razoring down both sides of his vision. There’s a pain in his bones, an ache in his muscles, a growling, yawing hunger in his belly – and the only way to feed it is to hit, hit, hit and hit once more. There’s something in front of him that’s moving, feebly. Cas can feel his fingernails digging into his own palm, four points of crescent pain as he strikes again, and again, and again.

The creature before him doesn’t stop moving. Cas shifts, finding a grip and tightening, squeezing. The hunger has to be sated. The movement has to stop. He can’t see, can’t think, can only feel the rage, the need, the terrible pain.

Somewhere inside him, there’s a tiny swirl of words that revolve out and round him in a swirl, a growing hurricane. Stop – stop – you’re killing him! Stop! STOP!

The words are disjointed, they make no sense. Cas holds onto the creature in front of him, which is spasming weakly, trying to speak. Its hand grabs hold of Cas – just the lapel of his coat. Faintly, a single word threads through the darkness.

“Cas…”

A gasp, a rush of air into his lungs, waking him up.

Cas knows that voice.

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puppycastiel:

Claire outwardly complaining about Dean and Cas, how totally sappy and gross they are, but inwardly she sort of loves it because they’re really a family now.

Claire taking selfies where Dean and Cas are in the background, usually doing a ton of staring and making heart eyes at each other. They don’t notice her taking these but Sam sees and joins in occasionally. There’s one where they’re making vomit faces while Dean has Cas crowded against the kitchen counter. There are pancakes burning beside them and when Claire posts it on Instagram, she puts, ‘Dads burned breakfast again! We ate cereal for the fifth time this week.’

Claire getting really sad when Dean and Cas argue because the bunker gets so quiet that it’s actually unnerving. Sam tries taking her out for mini golf, except it doesn’t help since that’s her and Dean’s thing. When Dean and Cas realize how she’s feeling, they apologize profusely and pull her in for a hug. (Sam goes for it too because, well, it’s a hug. They’re all making up for lost time.) Dean and Cas take a cue from the incident to not have Claire hear any future arguments. They resolve it right away or go for a drive so they can talk, while Sam and Claire find an activity that’s their thing, which turns out to be: going to craft fairs.

Claire being pretty skeptical at first because… a craft fair sounds kind of boring. But she quickly falls in love with browsing for trinkets and later decides to make crafts herself. She has a knack for jewelry and accessories, makes Cas a pair of bee-shaped cuff links. She also gives Sam a moose-shaped charm for his key ring and Dean a little put-put golf club that he hangs on Baby’s mirror.

Claire having a family to hug, to wish her sweet dreams, before she heads off to bed every night. One wall of her room is covered in selfies she printed out, and there’s a proper family photo on her bedside table, framed and all. She says hi to Mom and Dad up in Heaven and tells them about her day, how they might be adopting a dog (Dean’s nearly persuaded). She says “I love you, I miss you” like always and snuggles with Grumpy Cat under the covers. She drifts off to sleep with a smile on her lips, warm and loved by two hunters and an angel. She has peaceful dreams, knowing that Cas, Dean, and Sam are just a few doors down, protecting her, looking out for her, and giving her a second chance at family.

surlybobbies:

peter-pantomime:

ok you know the trope of how like, Cas smells like ozone or feels like electricity hangs around him differently and like has eyes that seem to be seeing thousands of years of time all while looking at you, and all that?

in my experience, we always get those perspectives from DEAN’s pov in fic.

so like. what if one time he’s talking to sam about all these aspects of cas, and he’s like, “gah and you know how he just makes you feel incredibly small and monumentally important all at the same time, and he feels like a thunderstorm trapped in a body and -”

and he stops because sam’s looking at him strange and is like, “…no dude i have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. cas is just cas.”

and thats how dean starts to realize that maaaaaaybe he and cas have something of a unique relationship

“You know, dude.  Like.  Like he looks at you and you’re the tiniest thing in the world?”

Sam raises an eyebrow and waits for Dean to elaborate.

Dean lifts a hand and lets it hang there in the air.  “No?  What about - I mean, sometimes he’ll say something and you get chills because you can feel the - the truth of it?”

Sam just crosses his arms and blinks in bemusement.

Dean huffs, waves his hand like that might connect Sam’s synapses.  “You’re telling me you don’t you feel that pressure whenever he’s around?  Like lightning’s about to strike?  Like he’s the lightning?  Like you’re walking around with a fucking lightning bolt?  A lightning bolt who stuck around, just for you?”

Now Sam just looks amused.  “Cas is just Cas, Dean.  To me, at least.  To you… I dunno, man.  You just compared him to a billion volts of electricity.”

Dean pulls at his collar.

Later, when Cas stops by the bunker and greets Dean with a small wave, Dean feels both tiny and enormous at the same time.  He swallows nervously as he claps a hand to Cas’s shoulder.  He catches Sam smirking. 

He flicks his brother off as he asks Cas, “What’re you doing here, man?”

Cas smiles, warm and affectionate, and Dean has to look down at the floor.

“I’m just here for you,” Cas says, and Dean closes his eyes as he shivers at the truth of it.

cuddlydeans:

“Hey.”

Dean knocks his foot against Cas’ under the table until he looks up at him. They’ve been up and researching for hours on end. Cas looks like shit. His hair is a mess, he’s got the worst case of 5 o’clock shadow anyone has ever seen, and he’s got some tomato sauce on his cheek from the pizza they ate.

The annoyed glare he gets in response makes his heart swell fondly. 

And Dean? He gets so caught up in staring at his best friend that Cas has to kick his leg gently to get his attention.

“Dean.” 

His eyes snap up from Castiel’s chest and he lets out a nervous breath, “Yeah?”

Cas rolls his eyes before rubbing a hand over his face, “You were saying something.”

Oh. Right.

Dean blushes and rubs the back of his neck, “I just… y’know.”

The blank look Cas gives him in response makes Dean roll his eyes and groan, “Today. The date. I - I saw the date. I just… you remember?” 

Castiel squints at him, “Do I… remember the date?”

There’s a few moments of silence before Cas sighs, “Dean, we’ve been up for close to 30 hours now. I have no idea what day it is.” 

He tries to pretend that doesn’t hurt a little bit when he answers, “It’s the 18th. September 18th.” 

Castiel blinks for a moment before his brain catches up and then his face softens. He looks down at the table with a small smile, “Yes, I… remember.” 

Dean grins like a doof despite himself and has to look down at the book in front of him to hide it, “Cool.” 

“Yes…” Cas huffs a laugh, shaking his head fondly, “I suppose it is.” 

“I mean…” He bites his lip nervously, not looking up, “I don’t know. Pretty good day for me.” Dean pauses for a moment to consider, “Well - aside from the whole ‘digging myself out of my grave’ thing, anyway.” 

“For the last time,” Castiel groans and can’t help but laugh a little, “I’m sorry. I was tired. My aim was… off.” 

Dean snorts and when he looks up their eyes meet across the table, both of them grinning.

It takes them a solid minute to snap out of it and Dean’s the one who breaks first, looking away to hide how much he’s blushing.

“I’m -” He says after a few beats, clearing his throat, “I’m. Glad.”

Castiel arches an eyebrow at him, smirking, “That my aim was off?” 

Dean rolls his eyes and half-heartedly tosses a pen at Cas’ chest, “No, you dick.” He lets his head roll back to look up at the ceiling, not sure why it’s so hard to actually say this.

“I’m glad that… that I met you.” 

He looks back at Cas after a moment, his heart hammering in his chest, “And not just because you saved my sorry ass.” 

It’s not sweet or romantic or any of the things that he wishes it could be but Cas smiles all the same, as if he gets everything behind it. It’s a gentle and pleased smile, the kind of smile you hope for when you tell someone that you love them.

“Me too,” Cas murmurs after a moment, still smiling. “And not just because you saved me as well.” 

(Source: deansmom)