Chapter 1: Did you mean to text me, maybe?
CLAIRE: Castiel! Trust me. He wants you too.
CLAIRE: Do something about it!
CLAIRE: You're an "Angel of the Lord." Stop being a coward!
DEAN: What are you talking about???
CLAIRE: ... Oops!
CLAIRE: Wrong person!?
[Five Minutes Later]
DEAN: Something you wanna tell me Cas?
CAS: No, Dean ...
CAS: Is everything all right?
DEAN: You tell me
CAS: Tell you what, Dean?
DEAN: Tell me about this guy that apparently wants you too
CAS: Wants me for what, Dean?
DEAN: Claire sent a message to me by mistake
DEAN: A message for u
DEAN: About a guy you like
DEAN: . . . Claire thinks he loves you right back buddy ;)
CAS: I would prefer it if you simply ignore her message, Dean.
DEAN: Ain't gonna happen Cas
DEAN: Who is he?
DEAN: You been living a double life I don't know about?
CAS: Like I told Claire, Dean, I want to be left alone about this.
CAS: They're MY feelings.
CAS: As interesting as they might be to you and Claire, my feeling are private.
CAS: They're mine.
CAS: I don't have to tell you anything.
DEAN: But your gonna
DEAN: Come on Cas
DEAN You can tell me about your dude on dude love fest
CAS: I'm not a "dude," Dean.
DEAN: You have a dick Cas.
DEAN: You're a dude.
DEAN: Let's not split hairs man
DEAN: Especially hairs in your downstairs ;)
CAS: I don't ... I didn*t... I haven't always had a penis.
CAS: My vessels... they haven't always been male.
DEAN: You've been a chick???
CAS: I've been an angel, Dean.
DEAN: But you had like.. boobs and stuff man?
CAS: [Angry Emoji]
DEAN: Okay okay
DEAN: You have always been an ANGEL
DEAN: Take it easy Castiel
DEAN: Well, if he who shall not be named is a "he" then he isn't an angel
[Five Minutes Later]
DEAN: You trust me with ur life
DEAN: But not with this?
DEAN: Seems suspicious Cas
DEAN: Is your bromance gonna end the world?
DEAN: Don't tell me...
DEAN: It's Crowley?
CAS: Not funny, Dean
DEAN: Okay. You win. You don't gotta tell me who
DEAN: But we're friends, right?
CAS: You're my best friend, Dean.
DEAN: Then its in my job description to help you out with stuff like this
DEAN: I mean, I'm not great with the whole feelings crap
DEAN: But I'm here for you Cas
DEAN: Have you told the guy how you feel?
CAS: Dean. Please, leave this alone.
DEAN: I'll take that as a no.
[10 minutes later]
DEAN: Gotta say, kinda hurts you won't talk to me
DEAN: If you haven't talked to the guy about it, how do you know how he feels?
DEAN: Maybe he would be okay with it?
[5 minutes later]
DEAN: Come on Cas
DEAN: It's a valid point man
DEAN You're all doom and gloom over there
DEAN: But maybe he feels the same way
DEAN: Ever thought of that?
CAS: Unlikely, Dean.
CAS: I don't think he cares for "dude on dude" romance, as you say
DEAN: Let me help you
DEAN: Maybe I could talk to him?
CAS: You don't know who he is.
DEAN: Well. Let's recap.
DEAN: Not an angel
DEAN: Not the head douche of all demons
DEAN: You only know so many guys Cas
DEAN: Solving mysteries is kinda my job...
DEAN: Maybe I could narrow it down...
DEAN: Figure it out...
DEAN: Or maybe you could just tell me
DEAN: Why can't you just tell me?
CAS: [... typing indicator ...] It's Sam, okay?!
CAS: It's Sam.
CAS: Now will you leave me alone?
[1 hour later]
CAS: I asked for privacy, Dean. But now I'm concerned.
CAS: Are you angry with me?
[2 hours later]
CAS: Dean? Please talk to me.
CAS: You don't have to worry.
CAS: I have no plans to ... pursue... anything.
CAS: I know you wouldn't approve.
CAS: I can't believe...
CAS: I've made a huge mistake...
CAS: Dean, I'm so sorry.
[5 minutes later]
DEAN: It's okay Cas
DEAN: I'm not mad
DEAN: I'm ... surprised, I guess
DEAN: But I'm not mad
DEAN: I won't ruin this for you two
DEAN: Do you want me to talk to him?
CAS: No, thank you.
CAS: Dean, you're not angry?
DEAN: Why would I be angry Cas
DEAN: He's a good guy
DEAN: You're a good guy, angel, whatever
CAS: You don't think it's... strange?
DEAN: That you like gigantor? Nah
CAS: But we're family, Dean.
CAS: Brothers, that's what you always say.
CAS: Surely, to feel this way is wrong... unwelcome at the very least?
DEAN: No Cas
DEAN: No matter what else you are to me and Sammy, you're still family
CAS: I don't want you to hate me, Dean.
CAS: I couldn't bear that.
CAS: Can't we please put this behind us?
DEAN: I'm no expert
DEAN: I problem solve at the bottom of a bottle. I know that
DEAN: But you don't really work that way Cas
DEAN: You gonna be happy pretending you're just the third Winchester?
CAS: Being a Winchester is a privilege, Dean.
CAS: I told you... knowing you has been the best part of my life.
DEAN: But you love Sam right?
CAS: [... typing indicator ...] I love you.
CAS: and Mary and Sam, too, yes.
DEAN: Cas if you feel that way about somebody you need to tell them.
DEAN: You'll regret it if you don't
DEAN: Trust me
CAS: I trust you, Dean.
CAS: However, what could possibly be served by confessing such feeling to a heterosexual man, Dean?
DEAN: Wow... kinda blown away
DEAN: You just spent the morning lecturing me on your not being a dude
DEAN: So what's the problem?
CAS: Are you joking?
CAS: You're telling me if...
CAS: For example...
CAS: I told you I was in love with you
CAS: It wouldn't matter that my vessel was male, Dean?
DEAN: I mean, I don't have a lot of experience with you know
DEAN: Whatever man!
DEAN: Who gives two shits about what goes where?!
DEAN: You don't? Right?
DEAN: You think me and Sammy are assholes or something?
CAS: No, Dean. I don't think unkindly of you!
CAS: But I thought...
CAS: Frankly, I thought attraction was more than relevant for you. Necessary even.
DEAN: Spent my life going home with whatever woman was willing
DEAN: Pretty sure I could get it up for somebody who actually fuckin loved me
DEAN: Can't speak for Samantha
DEAN: But you definitely didn't fall off the ugly truck dude
DEAN: Sammy is one lucky bastard
[1 hour later]
CAS: I have to confess
CAS: I'm in love with you.
DEAN: ... uhhh... Cas???
CAS: Yes, Dean?
DEAN: You texted the wrong person.
CAS: No, I didn't, Dean. I've only ever loved one man.
DEAN: When are you coming home Cas?
CAS: I started home an hour ago.
CAS: I'm an hour out... Maybe less, Dean...
DEAN: I'll be waiting for you.
DEAN: In our room
CAS: Our room?
DEAN: We've wasted enough time being idiots. Don't you think?
CAS: Yes, Dean. But are you certain?
DEAN: Hell yes man
DEAN: A 17 year old is better at this shit than we are!
CAS: You think Claire texted you on purpose?
DEAN: Probably. Gotta thank her. We suck at this couple thing
CAS: We're a couple, Dean??
DEAN: Stop texting and driving
CAS: Answer the question, Dean.
DEAN: I'll answer you in an hour, angel ;)
Chapter 2: Text Message Version
A screen cap version of this texting fic.
There are (at least) two time-stamps planned for this verse. The first is scheduled for this Sunday, January 14. I was scheduled to post today, but because I am very busy with work and with graduate school at this time, I decided to change up my schedule. So, until this summer, I will be posting every other Sunday instead of every other Thursday. Still, a promise is a promise, and I planned to post. So, I bring you a more authentic screen cap version of this texting fic. Love you guys! Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3: You Maybe Texted HIM
Dean and Cas have been officially Destiel for a little over a month, and Dean's sitting back and enjoying his coffee in his new default mode--sentimental boyfriend. Dean is reminiscing about the accidents and missteps that it took to get them here. A decade of long stares and shoulder rubs and avoidance. Longer and longer hugs. Claire's text message. Castiel insisting that he was in love with Sam in order to avoid admitting that Dean was the secret mystery man he was in love with...
When a kick-ass prank to pay Cas back for that little white lie occurs to Dean, he can't turn it down, can he? After an epic sex fest that knocks Cas out--orgasms are hell on an Angel’s grace--Dean plots to make Cas think he’s sent Sam a dick pic in error ??? Sam might be right, Dean's an idiot, but he's an idiot in love. Even idiots deserve fluffiness. Fluff-fest!
New posting schedule: every other Sunday. See you then. <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Dean was siting in his bathrobe and his slippers and little else, grinning over a cup of coffee. Cas was asleep in his bed, Sam was bent over his laptop trying to find a case, and Dean couldn’t help but smile. This was his new normal, and it was awesome. He felt relaxed. It was a new feeling. He’d been sexed out before. And he’d had cuddle weekends. And he’d had quiet days when there were no cases and the bunker was still. But he’d never had all that at the same time. And he was happy that his brother was taking it all in stride.
Cas and Dean and been Cas/Dean for a little over a month, and Sammy hadn’t even raised an eyebrow. Hell, a month ago, when they’d first stumbled out of Dean’s room, marked up and half-naked and hungry after hours of “making love” as Cas put it, Sam barely gave the two of them a hair flip. Sam seemed more interested in the fact that sex made Cas hungry than in the fact that the angel had, well... Dean grinned again.
By this time most mornings in the bunker, Sam was telling him to stop smiling like an idiot, but Dean honestly couldn’t help it. Who knew that orgasms were so draining to angels? Dean had fucked his angel into a sex coma, and Dean’s ass was sore, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay. Cas would be sleeping like a baby for at least another hour. And if Dean spent half an hour staring at his soft lips, long lashes, and steadily rising chest before getting out of bed to get his coffee fix, who had to know?
And to think that Dean owed all his happiness to an accident or to the scheming of a teenage matchmaker. He still hadn’t contacted Claire to find out for sure or to thank her. He wasn’t sure how you thanked a teenager for being the best damn cupid there ever was. Seemed pretty fucked up for a standard text message. Especially when you apparently sucked at talking about feelings. He shook his head and took another swig of bitter coffee. God, he and Cas had almost fucked that up, too.
He rubbed at the ache in his chest that showed up every time he remembered Cas admitting he was in love with someone—but that he loved Sam. Dean knew he deserved a damn award for being the most supportive best friend and brother in the fucking known universe. Chuck would probably tell him that pulling on his big boy pants and wishing Sam and Cas the best had earned Dean an express ticket to heaven when he finally died in a way that stuck. At least he’d only had to live through that little piece of hell for a few hours.
Cas had apologized several times and had even given Dean a very loving, very spectacular, I-am-sorry-I-broke-your-heart blow job. But it still hurt, and he felt like a hormonal teenager whenever he complained, but it sucked. What would have happened if Dean had done what he first imagined? Dean had stewed for a few hours, but he had fully intended to tell Sammy that an Angel of the freakin’ lord was in love with him and that he should show the guy some respect and love him back. Dean knew better than anyone how much Castiel deserved. He was loyal and brave and a fuck up, but he made mistakes because he loved and cared too much and was worse at the love thing than Dean was. Castiel deserved love from whoever he wanted it from, and Dean had been determined that he was gonna get it. Dean laughed. He could just imagine Sam’s stunned face and his stutter. What would Cas have done if Sammy texted him or prayed to him going on and on and on about how much he loved Castiel but didn’t love him that way? Dean chuckled again. Now that he knew who Cas actually loved he could laugh about it. That shit would have been comedy gold.
He tapped his nearly empty coffee mug as an idea took shape. He grinned wide, and tongued a tooth at the back of his mouth as he thought this through. This might be pretty awesome. A nice bit of pay back.
“Hey, Sammy, give me your cell phone.”
“You want my phone? For what?” Sam said, not looking up from his screen.
“I wanna send you a text.”
“Just send it.” Sam shrugged.
“I don't want you to see it. Just give me your phone.”
“What don’t you want me to see. Don't send me something disgusting, Dean.” Sam’s brow wrinkled but he still didn’t look up. Apparently, he was used to Dean making up odd requests.
“So I can prank, Cas.”
Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You’re pranking Cas?”
“Little Dude told a little lie and this is a little payback.” Dean chuckled.
“You think this is a good idea? You two just started dating. What are you planning to do?”
“First of all,” Dean said, counting on his hand, “We’re family. And he’s a freakin Winchester. Pranks are the Winchester way. Second of all, we aren’t dating.” Dean’s eyes dropped to his cup of coffee. “We don’t go to dinners and cafes and shit. We’ve been fighting side by side for a decade, Sam. We’re like hunter married or whatever.” Dean shrugged. "Third of all, payback’s a bitch. Cas knows that.”
“You’re an idiot, Dean. You remember what you just said in a few hour, ok? Payback’s a bitch.” Sam pulled out his phone and reached across the desk.
When Dean went to grab it, he yanked it back. “Wait, what are you sending to my phone?”
“I’m gonna send a photo from his phone to yours, but trust me Sammy, you don’t want to see this. But, more importantly, I don’t want you to see it.” Dean finds Cas’s coat on a nearby chair and smiles. “It’s a thing of beauty but for my eyes only.”
“Holy shit, Dean. Are you sending me a dick pic.”
Dean winks as he searches Cas’s pockets for his phone.
“That’s sick. Taking a nude photo of your boyfriend while he’s knocked out from your sex marathon.”
“Hell, no, Sammy. Cas took these photos himself. You have no idea what this guy does in texts. He seems all uptight angel, half-nerd, half-soldier, hundred-percent sentimental sap. But let me tell ya, this trench coat hides a closet perv. My angel is a walking, talking kink fest.”
“TMI, Dean. Jeez.”
“Like I said, I’ll delete the photo so you don’t get a show.”
Dean found the shot he was looking for and chuckled. Cas and Dean had gotten pretty damn good at their texting game lately. They talked about everything from cases and tv shows to how much they wanted to cuddle. Dean and Cas said I love you in texts easily now and even though they were hundreds of miles apart some days, Cas had told Dean that their texts made him feel close and cared for. Dean had gotten pretty damn good at telling Cas how he really felt if he did say so himself. Cas though had blossomed, and his sexting was epic. The angel had started out with stuttering and hesitation and Dean’s naughty texts were often met with never-ending blinking text indicators. Dean laughed remembering that Cas’s first response to Dean’s late night invitation was an angry emoji face and a text demanding to know how he was supposed to find a store at 3 a.m. to buy two eggplants. Now though, shit. Dean squeezed his legs and tried to calm down his over-excited dick. He stared at the image of Cas, spread out and naked. His body was flushed pink and his cock was hard. His hair was a disheveled mess. He was biting his lip and the hand that wasn’t busy holding the phone low against his thighs was resting on his chest. His message said, “My body craves yours. My heart yearns.” Dean had replied with “I’m hunting a wendigo, but I wish I was riding your cock.” Of course, he followed that text with a quick clarification “I wish I was with you. See you back home in 3 days. Thank you for the photo. It will keep me company till then.” And it had. He’d almost dropped his phone in the bathroom shower that night.
He opened Cas’s text window and starting typing up a text.
“I don’t get how sending and then deleting a sexy pic you send from his phone to mine is going to be a prank, Dean.”
“Let’s just say our relationship took off with a bit of a bumpy start. Possibly accidental texts were the start and you were the bump. I’m just honoring that, dude.”
“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, all I need for this prank to work is for Cas to think that a few weeks ago he sent you this pic by mistake.”
“He’s gonna see the time stamp, Dean.”
“It doesn’t have to fool him for long. He’ll panic first. And that’ll be enough time for my epic retribution.”
“You are a teenager in a man suit, Dean.”
“Yeah, but Cas loves me.” Dean said leaning into the word love so it that came out sounding like a joke. He was fine with being soft and sweet with Cas, but no way was Sam seeing it. “So this prank is cool. You’ll see.”
“What are you typing?” his brother asked when he saw that Dean was sending a message from Sam’s phone.
Dean read aloud, “Cas, thank you for sharing your feelings and for your photo. I understand that you might be a little confused by new feelings or by moving from a familial bond to a sexual one; however, I am certain your heart does not yearn for me. You love, Dean. Your love for each other is almost too precious for this world. Any feelings you think you have for me, you should talk about with Dean. It’s been three weeks since you sent this text, but one of us should tell Dean about this. I plan on speaking with him today, and I am sure he would prefer to hear news of this from you first.”
“What the hell is that, Dean?”
“Apart from how generally stupid this prank is, I would never send a text like that.”
“What? You sound exactly like that! You’re like a damn therapist sometimes. I swear.”
“Too precious for this world? Really, Dean?”
“Now that, that shit you have definitely said before.”
“No, Dean. Oh my God. Forget it. You are truly an idiot. And Cas’s love must be too precious for this world if he puts up with all your crap.”
“This is going be awesome! I can’t wait till he wakes up.” Dean raises his hand above Sam’s phone with his finger pointing directly at the enter button. “And send.”
On the table beside Dean, Cas’s phone buzzes.
Not sure if I will write the result of this prank as chapter 4. Their love, of course, is too precious for this world and no prank will put a dent in it. These two idiots will remain idiots in love. Also, I kind of like the idea of leaving it open so that Cas will respond however he does in the readers' minds. He will generally respond with love, but I wonder, how do you think Cas will react when he sees the text/learns about Dean's prank? Also, I have an ABO and a Harry Potter verse story in the works . . . or the second part of this if you want to read it. Any preferences for what I post next?
Chapter 4: Oops, You Did It Again!
Dean and Cas have been a couple for a month after a mis-sent text and a few mis-steps led them to admitting their long-held feelings. It's been a couple of hours since Dean kicked off a dick-pic prank and things are little bit crazier than Dean planned. But everything's still awesome, at least Dean thinks so. It's no secret to anyone--including Cas--that Dean has a problem with maturity. Sometimes he acts like a teenager. Sometimes he's adult enough to shoulder all the worlds burdens. Is this gonna be a relationship apocalypse?
Hope you like this pit-stop on their kind of bumpy journey to fluff... Of course, this is Dean's idea of fluff; mine, too, I guess. There are no real hard feelings here, just two idiots in love. Special Note: Cas will exact his own fluffy revenge within the next two (and, likely, final chapters) which I'll be editing (and posting) today. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
“I don’t want any damn pie, Cas. Pie's not gonna fix something like this.”
Cas fidgeted, and the sack from a Gas n’ Sip crinkled, loaded with what looked like a couple of stores’ worth of Dean’s usual go-to pie dangling from Cas’s hands. The angel’d been gone for about an hour. Seems he’d driven to several of the nearest convenience stores to collect their pies. So far, Dean was set to reap amazing rewards from this prank.
“Dean, please, listen. I’ve been trying to tell you since I woke up. What’s between us… Dean, it’s not broken.”
“You’re trying to tell me again that you accidentally sent Sammy a naked pic?”
Cas collapsed on the end of Dean’s bed, frustrated. “I certainly never intended to send your brother a picture like that!”
“When this started, you told me you loved Sam—that he was the man you loved. Maybe it was a Freudian slip, Cas. Maybe you do have something for Sammy.”
“Dean, I explained. You had narrowed the possibilities of who I loved down to two men. If I hadn’t told you that I loved Sammy…”
“See. You just said Sammy. You never call him that. That’s probably a Freudian slip, too.”
Dean was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Shit, years of lying his ass off to strangers had not prepared him for pulling this on Cas.
Since seeing the message from “Sam,” Cas had been storming around the bunker, his face a mix of sadness and frustration. Cas had gone on for ten minutes about how he just didn’t understand how such an image had been sent to Sam. He was googling phrases like “mis-sent messages” and begging Dean to stop being angry and help him find a way to apologize to Sam. When Dean had yelled, Cas, you should be thinking of how to apologize to me! Fuck! You’re clearly more worried about Sammy’s feelings, and you want me to think you don’t love him, too?
Honestly, Dean kept expecting Cas to call him on his bullshit. Dean wasn’t big on the whole talk-about-emotions-while-raging-with-bitter-jealousy-and-bitching-like-a-teenage-girl thing. And Cas knew that. But apparently, Cas was buying this. Best part?
When this was all over, Dean would get to lecture Cas about what it meant to be a Winchester. Dean had planned to watch him freak out for 10 minutes tops. Then he’d tell Cas to take a chill pill and enjoy being indoctrinated into the Winchester Way of Pranks. But after Cas launched into apologies and tried to reassure Dean first that Sam misunderstood their relationship, Dean just had to keep going. He had to, right?
Cas had reached for his phone after waking like Dean knew he would. He’d freaked out immediately, being too sleepy or too naive about technology to question Sam’s text—again, like Dean knew he would. What Dean hadn’t expected was for Cas to worry about Dean’s feelings—about them. Cas was kind. Worry was kind of his thing. But come on, did he really think Dean believed he had the hots for Sam after they got together?
This morning Cas dragged himself into the kitchen with his eyes down and his tail tucked between his legs. When Dean asked him what was up, Cas ran over and started to beg Dean’s forgiveness. Dean, I’m sorry. I’m not sure how this happened. I don’t love, Sam. I swear, Dean. It’s you that I love. It’s only ever been you. Cas clearly thought they weren’t solid, that Dean needed reassurances. Dean didn’t. What they had was thicker than blood. They’d been through everything together. Dean wasn’t joking when he told Sam they were hunter-married. Dean/Cas—or whatever it was called in that terrible high school musical—was for real. Finally. And it was for keeps. After today, Cas would know that, too.
So, when Cas insisted again that he didn’t love Sam, Dean cut him off mid objection with a fake-angry: Don’t fucking say you love him like a brother. Don’t say it. I been saying that brother shit to you for years and look where we ended up! Cas basically looked like he was going to pull his hair out.
“Dean, please, won’t you take these pies? None of this is symptomatic of my oppressed desires. Freud has been widely discredited.”
Dean got up from the bed and Cas stood, too, leaving the bag behind.
When Dean walked in the hall, Cas followed, saying “More to the point, Dean, I’ve met Sigmund. He is not a great example of psychiatric wellness himself.”
When they were in the hall, Dean turned sharply and headed back to his room, pausing in the doorway. “Don’t give me a history lesson, Cas. Unless your lecture is going to cover ‘accidental’ betrayals by angelic boyfriends,” Dean mimed air quotes. “I don’t wanna hear it.” Dean slammed the door in Cas’s face, and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. This was epic if he did say so himself.
He was a freakin genius. Teach Cas a lesson in love. Eat a ton of pie. And… well, the make-up sex was gonna be awesome. It might have been the result of centuries spent watching humanity or of countless ages serving as a strategist, but Cas was great in the sack. In a matter of weeks, Cas had become an expert in pleasing Dean. Dude played him like an instrument, timing everything perfectly. Dean had had a lot of sex. A lot. And it had never been better than it was with Cas. Their first time, Cas had actually apologized for fumbling, worried he had done something wrong. Dean had been silent, rendered speechless.This was the second time Cas had ever had sex. The second time. Ever. And he had still managed to leave Dean a quivering mess.
Dean wasn’t sentimental and he didn’t have a virgin kink. But he fucking hated “April.” That reaper didn’t deserve a single time with Cas, let alone his first time. But Dean was determined about one thing. He’d be getting all of Cas’s future times. If they had to tear heaven up to make room for the two of them, he and Cas were gonna be like epic made-for-tv lovers, even after Dean kicked the bucket. Or they would be . . . as soon as this awesome prank was over.
Dean whistled on his way back over to the bed. He reached for the bag of pies, tucked them up against his side, and put his headphones on. He’d eat a few pies and give Cas another hour to stew in his own juices. What a great day!
Thanks for kudos and even the briefest of comments. I'll see you again in two hours. <3
Chapter 5: Shake it Off
It's been a few hours since the dick-pic debacle turned into the purgatory of pie. Dean's sick to his stomach, and he's not sure if he's eaten too much pie or if he's too worried about Cas to relax. After another fight and tears, Dean finally confesses his prank and his undying love for Cas, and then . . .
An fluffy epilogue 8 months from this chapter is set to publish 4 to 5 hours from now. See you then! I hope your enjoying this story. Thanks for stopping by and reading.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Cas wasn’t answering his phone. Dean had waited awhile, listened to music, eaten about ten mini pies, and then started dialing his boyfriend’s number. But Cas never picked up.
So Dean went looking.
After suffering some raised I-told-you-so-eyebrows and a hair flip from Samantha, Dean found Cas in the backseat of the Impala. The angel was deep in the middle of that freaky blank stare thing he did sometimes. Dean wasn’t sure if he was trying to tune into angel radio or commune with the universe. He raised his hand to tap on the window—
“Hey, Cas. I guess I’m ready to talk. You?”
“I’m sure you’re ready to talk, Dean. Are you ready to listen?”
“Yeah. Sure. You mind if I do my listening in our room. I don’t want Sammy’s opinion on this.”
Cas nodded his head. Dean opened Baby’s door, and Cas stepped out. As they walked back to their room, Defeat was written in every line of Cas’s body. His shoulders were slumped; his head was down. His hands were fisted at his sides.
Dean followed Cas into their room and closed the door behind them. Cas stood at the foot of their bed, but he didn’t turn around.
Dean waited for Cas to say something, anything.
And he continued to wait.
Rubbing his hand over his lips, Dean scrambled for things to say. He’d fucked up. Big time.
Dean’s boots didn’t have any answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas. Not when he’d done this to him. He heard a sniffle.
Double shit. Cas was wiping the back of his hand across his face. It couldn’t be.
“Cas, are you… Are you crying?” Dean rushed to Cas and rubbed his hands over the angel’s tense shoulders and arms. “Come on, man, don’t cry. This whole day…” He should turn Cas around, hug him, look him in the eye and tell the truth. But he couldn’t say this. Not face to face. “It’s not… Fuck, Cas. I’m not mad.”
Dean felt Cas’s whole body tense, and Cas shook his head. He sniffled again.
“Seriously, Cas. I’m not mad. Even if I was mad, I couldn’t stay mad at you. I love you.”
Cas tried to shrug Dean’s hands off.
“Come on, Cas. Don’t pull away. Look. It’s … it’s all been a joke—a prank. I get it now. Alright. My sense of humor is clearly lost on, like, cosmic beings.”
“Our relationship is not a joke, Dean.”
Fuck. He’d never heard Cas sound like that. His voice was high-pitched, sad, a little broken.
“I know. I know. We’re not a joke. I know you love me. And I know you don’t love Sam.”
“But you think I sent him a message, Dean. On purpose, right?”
“Nah, man. I know you didn’t.”
“Now you suddenly have faith in us? Now?” Cas made another effort to shake Dean off.
“Come on, Cas. Turn around and look at me.”
“I can’t, Dean. I’m just so tired. I thought…” Cas sighed and looked up at the bunker ceiling, shaking his head.
Cas must be really upset if he was looking heavenward for answers. Damn.
“Cas, I had faith in us the whole time, man. Believe me. I know you didn’t send the message to Sam cuz I took your phone this morning, and I sent it. It was supposed to be a prank. Then when you lost your shit, it turned into this big thing.” Dean took a deep breath and tried to stop his verbal diarrhea, but he just keep going as soon as he inhaled. “I can’t really explain it right. Stupid idea. Sending the photo and pretending to be pissed about it. Come on, Cas, turn around.” Dean wet his lips, and took another deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Cas, you’re the best thing I’ve ever had.” Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pretended to fight. We fight enough shit as it is. Wendigos. Wigged out Angels. I’m sorry.”
When Cas still didn’t speak, Dean tried another tactic. “Ok, so let’s pretend this day never happened. Talk about how much we love each other and shit like that. What do you say? You can start with stuff like ‘Even though you do stupid things, Dean, you do them for the right reason. You’re a model boyfriend.’ And I’ll say… I’ll say, ‘Your my… your my husband, Cas. I want you to know that.’” Dean put his arms on Cas’s hips, and jostled him. “Come on, Cas. Let’s, start this morning over. It’ll be time travel the human way. It’ll be role play. The non-sexy kind. We like role playing, right? This should be fun. Come on, Cas, turn around, man.”
Cas spun around, a wide grin on his face. His teeth and gums were showing. His was squinting because his smile was so big. He was seconds away from having sparkles in his eyes like some anime chick.
Cas’s eyes and nose weren’t red. There were no tears on his face.
“You weren’t crying!” Dean yelled.
Cas’s smile grew bigger. And he shook his head slowly. “Nope,” he said, popping his lips.
Dean felt light headed. He had to sit the fuck down. He flopped down on his bed. He heard the crinkle of all his empty pie wrappers. What a day.
“I’m a Winchester, Dean. Apparently, we say I love you ‘with pranks’.”
“Don’t pull air quotes on me, Cas. I can’t believe you!”
“Believe me, Dean. You’re the best thing to happen to me, too. I think of you as my husband also. I had suspected you felt the same before this morning, but I appreciated having the opportunity to hear you say it.”
“Man, I feel pathetic.” Dean gave up trying to sit and went horizontal. I bought that sniffle bullshit, hook-line-and-sinker.”
“I’m a soldier, Dean. A trained strategist and interrogator. There’s no shame in believing my deceptions.” The bed dipped as Cas came to lie beside him.
“Whatever, you big dork. When did you figure it out?”
“After I went to the first Gas n’ Sip. They only had two pies, and the sales associate said their delivery wasn’t scheduled for two more hours. I opened my phone to get directions, and I noticed the time stamps.”
“If you knew then that something was up, why did you keep searching for freakin’ pies? Why not come home and tell me you knew?”
“I needed time to think. You rarely do things without reason, Dean. I wanted to understand what yours was.”
“And I still wasn’t sure. Not until I returned and you were still ‘angry’. When you mentioned Freudian slips I understood.”
“What? How was that a clue? You said you hated Freud.”
“I don’t hate him, Dean. I just don’t appreciate his theories. Don’t get me started on his ideas about penis envy.” Cas shook his head, rubbing at his forehead. “Anyway, Dean, You emphasized that you didn’t want me to explain myself again. You mentioned Freud. This told me you were likely trying to get me to think about my first reaction. So, I left the pies on your bed so you could eat them, and I went to think.”
Dean laughed, “You are so full of shit. I was just making shit up. I wasn’t sending you messages. I wasn’t even sure what my goal was. I was being a fucking idiot. I’m not that deep, man, seriously.”
“That’s not true, Dean.”
“Ok. Ok. We’re awesome. You’re as big as the Chrysler building. I’m as deep as the freakin’ ocean. Thank Chuck, we’re together because no one else could handle this level of awesome.”
Cas grabbed his hand and linked their fingers, “Yes, Dean.” His thumb swept back and forth across Dean’s knuckles.
Dean chuckled. “We are both so stupid.”
“We’re not stupid, Dean. We’re in love. That creates certain chemicals in the brain that—“
“Shut up and kiss me, dork.”
Castiel Winchester's pretty great, huh?
Chapter 6: Epilogue: Our Love is a Freakin Pop Song
Dean and Cas have been dating for 9 months and it's all . . . just . . . so fluffy--oh, and full of Dean's odd sense of humor. These knuckleheads have just grown so much.
This past year has been spectacularly tough, but I have been tough, too. I have also been very lucky, with friends and family who have kept me happy, and laughing at the darkest of times. My favorite fanfic writers have cheered me up, and my readers have left lovely comments and kudos (and been very patient with my chaotic spring schedule). As a thank you... here is the third and final chapter of the day! Thank you, earnestly. <3
“Cas?” Dean mumbled.
Cas hummed. Dean was sprawled over his chest, his head tucked under Castiel’s chin. This was the opposite of their usual post-coital routine, but Dean was clearly enjoying the change.
“I thought memory foam was the best mattress there was, but I was wrong. Your boobs have taken first place.”
When Castiel’s deep laughter shifted Dean off his torso, Dean added, “Bumpy though.”
“I’m unsure if by ‘boobs’ you are referring to my torso or my pectoral muscles, but I thank you for the compliment.”
Dean got himself back in position, and Castiel resumed running his fingers through Dean’s hair.
Dean hummed. “And the scalp massage is awesome. Better than magic fingers. I don’t even have to put in any quarters.”
“I’m gratified that you approve. Perhaps you want to try being the little spoon next.”
“Now don’t get all crazy on me, Cas.”
“Yes, Dean. Insanity is safely averted. When we rest after our shower, I will remain the little spoon. You can even drool on my shoulder again, and I won’t be the least bit concerned.”
“That happened one time, man.”
“One very memorable time. You’re very cute when you drool. Kind of like a fluffy puppy. A Saint Bernard. Something like that. You’d even rolled onto your back and pulled me with you.”
Dean huffed a laugh, his breath warm on Castiel’s clavicle. Castiel had held this man’s soul tight, rebuilt his body. But nothing had prepared Castiel for ordinary intimacy like this. Being inside Dean or feeling Dean’s breath on his skin. He shivered.
“No, Dean. I’m wonderful.”
“Me, too. This part always feels warm. Feels good.”
“I don’t really mind being the little spoon, not anymore.”
“All right.” Castiel hesitated, using his body to read Dean’s. His muscles were relaxed, his blood pressure and pulse steady. “You mean to imply that you were uncomfortable with it before?”
“I don’t know, maybe,” Dean said softly.
“Care to tell me why?”
“Felt weird, like I was the chick in the relationship.”
Again Cas hesitated, but Dean still felt soft on top of him. There wasn’t a bit of tension in his beloved’s body, so he dared to add, “Because you were the one penetrated.”
Dean laughed, so hard the bed trembled. “Fuck, I been dating a walking dictionary for 9 months.” In a deep voice Dean repeated, “Because you were the one penetrated.” Tilting his head up, Dean pressed a kiss under Cas’s chin. “You’re hilarious, man. Never change.”
“Are you uncomfortable talking about this, Dean. We don’t have to if—”
“Naw, it’s fine. It’s fine now. I mean…” Dean inhaled deeply and followed that with a loud sigh, collecting his thoughts.
It had been 8 months since they’d become a ‘couple,’ and Dean was adjusting well, Castiel thought, to having a boyfriend. With the exception of the Prank that Shall Not Be Named months ago—as it was dubbed by Dean—they’d found bliss. Years of struggling to read each other’s every look, word, and gesture quickly transformed their communication problems into the ability to read and respond to each other without words. Or, as was more often the case, into correctly interpreting the other even when the words didn’t match. Turns out the life of a hunter was full of lies and half truths. Avoiding interrogation by angels, surviving torture by demons, acting for cases, being Sam’s big brother, it all came with what Dean called ‘a heavy dose of bullshit.’ But they understood each other. Sometimes, it felt good, though, in their bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms, to share truths in the dark. Comfortable nights at home meant that Dean let down his guard and said whatever he felt, without deflection.
“Did having sex with me, in that way, make you feel emasculated, Dean?”
“In that way? What? You mean bottoming?”
“Well, being fucked in the ass doesn’t really scream man to me, you know. But I don’t care. I never cared. I’ve traded punches with Lucifer. I’m a freaking stud. And even if that did matter, after our first time, I would have been a convert. Shit, remember I made so much noise Sammy thought I was dying in here? I was fucking whining, man” Dean chuckled. “Nah, I didn’t feel emasculated or whatever. I was actually worried that if you knew how good it felt we’d be fighting over who had to top. No, I don’t give a shit about that.”
“It just didn’t feel like me. Before. Well, before us, I was always the one in charge. The one responsible for makin’ sure everybody felt good. And if there was ever cuddling action--and that wasn’t often—I was the big spoon. And with you and me…”
“I was the one in charge, both during sex and afterward.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t less manly, it was just… I don’t know, passive. I’m used to taking charge. I guess I’m a fighter, not a cuddler, Cas” Dean finished quietly.
“That is not true.”
“It was true. It was.”
“You were a born cuddler, Dean. According to Sam, you have always ‘wuved hugs.’”
“Shit, is nothing sacred? He told you about that? Bitch.”
“Cuddling feels good, Dean. You told me that it ranked higher than pie on your list.”
“Alright. So I was born a cuddle monster. I had just not found the right person, dude, angel to get my cuddle on with.”
“Plus,” Dean stopped again, and his brow wrinkled, the way it often did when he tried to put his feelings into words, “You’re a sap, so at first cuddling with you was like Sam’s clown phobia.”
“Scary? This from the man who has traded punches with archangels?”
“Hell, yeah. Who do you thinks more scared, the fish or the dude trying to catch him?”
“This is a metaphor?” Cas asked dead-pan, hoping to tease a laugh out of Dean.
“Yeah, it’s a metaphor. Tou got me.”
“So the big spoon is the fisherman and the little spoon is the fish. I presume the angler is not fly-fishing. He’s catching things by hand so we can keep using the fishing analogy, yes?”
“Yeah, professor. Now imagine the little fish actually wants to get caught by the to fisherman. The dude reels him in, takes a look, and toss him back. Brutal, right?”
“And you’re the fish?”
“We should write books or teach at a local college. We’re good at this.
Cas laughed and agreed, “We are.”
“Seriously, man, the first couple of times, there I’d be, your cum leaking out my ass, feeling blissed out, and boneless, and you’d embrace me from behind, and it felt great. It did, but there was this worry…”
“That it wouldn’t last forever.”
“And it doesn’t have to last forever to feel good if your the fisherman. You get to let go. You’re not thrown back in.”
“Kinda. Yeah, but that faded pretty quickly, too. Being open like that,” Dean shrugged. “Used to make me vulnerable. Felt good to be the big spoon. Think I was making you feel good, watching your back, keeping you warm, making sure you knew I cared, wanted you there.”
“And you reasoned that I’d spent the evening doing the same for you.”
“Yeah, I had to pick up some slack.”
“And what changed your mind, Dean?”
“That ass wiggle you do when you’re the little spoon. And that long mmmmmmmmmm sound you make when you’re really happy. And also that night Sammy walked in on our post-snuggle spooning when we forgot to lock the door. Remember, you were nearly at his throat with the angel blade you’d left under the bed? Naked. Dick blowing in the breeze. Pissed off scary boyfriend. Hot. Also very hot.”
“So top or bottom. Big spoon, little spoon. Left-Side of the bed, right-side. You don’t care anymore.”
“Let me clear. Big spoon, little spoon. Doesn’t matter. Bed of man boobs. Man who lays on man boobs.”
Cas laughed, “They’re muscles Dean. Very different from breast tissue.”
“Pa-tittie potato, dude. It's all boobs."
Cas couldn't help but laugh again.
Dean winked. "Anyway, pay attention to the relevant facts. Cuz the contract states I get to bottom eighty to ninety percent of the time, Cas. Them’s the breaks. Also, I always drive. You can call shotgun. And I’ll let you choose the music. Most of the time. Unless you play that Enya shit again. Deal?”
“Mmmmmmmmmm” Dean said on a long sigh, his torso humming along Castiel’s ribs. “You are so comfortable, man. Cancel Sammy’s Tulpa hunt. Tell him I’m on vacation on the isle of Cas.”
Chapter 7: Turn it Up, It's your Favorite Song
The boys are wrapping up a hunt, and Team Free-South-Carolina-from-a-Tulpa is dead tired. But some changes gotta happen so that Dean and Cas can ride off in the sunset together. Hand-holding fluff.
Surprise! A fourth post today! These guys just won't leave me alone.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
"Cas is riding shotgun, Sammy. You're in the back."
"He was in the front on the way up here, Dean."
Dean flung his head back and dropped his arms so quickly they slapped his thighs.
Cas always enjoyed watching Dean, but moments like these were special. Cas had started to think of it as Dean Theater. Frustration was written all over his body, but Cas knew that he wasn't angry, not really.
"Give it a rest, Sam. I'm tired. We been hunting a Tulpa for three days straight. And I need a fucking nap."
"Dean, come on. I'm tired, too, and that back seat's a nightmare. My legs--"
"We're not in grade school, Sam, and I'm not your mom. You two aren't fighting over turns here, man. That seat's his. Suck it up."
Dean glared at Cas, his eyes clearly insisting that he back Dean up and not surrender the seat to Sam. Cas was happy wherever he was, as long as it was with the Winchesters. He was entirely indifferent to his place in ‘Baby.’ Dean knew that. Cas ducked his head to hide a smile. Dean liked holding Cas's hand on long drives, but he wasn't admitting that out loud--not even to Cas, and certainly not to Sam. Dean was embarrassed, and the worry that Sam would either get in the way or figure it out made him testy, especially when he was feeling tired. Dean was an angry bear, but a cute angry bear. Cuddly.
“Cas,” Sam whined. “Please. My back is killing me.”
Cas merely shrugged, borrowing a gesture he’d seen humans use when they felt helpless to solve a problem, hoping the motion would save him from having to explain.
“Get in the car, you two, or I’m leaving you both the fuck here.”
Sam growled and climbed into the back. Cas sat in the front. As soon as both the doors shut and Dean cranked the car, warm fingers found his, and held on tight.
Noise and grumbles sounded from the back seat as Sam complained and tried to punch his duffle into a suitable pillow. Dean met Cas’s sideways glance with a wink.
It had been nine months since they’d become a ‘couple,’ and Cas was adjusting well, he thought, to being a boyfriend, to being a hunter, to being a ‘Winchester in training.’ He no longer hoped for a call from heaven. He had a new home. A home with Dean. Sometimes that home was in the bunker, in the Impala—shotgun, the backseat—location didn’t really matter. He’d lived for millennia and he had not known that home was portable, not until Dean had shown him. Castiel squeezed Dean’s palm, and Dean returned the gesture. If asked, Dean would agree that he’d taught Cas things. But he’d wear a smirk and admit that he’d given the angel focused schooling on sex and tv and the glories of coffee. Cas catalogued Dean’s soft smile, the laugh lines around his eyes, the small bleeding cut along his temple. He reached out with his free hand and smoothed his fingers over Dean’s head, and the cut healed. Dean was a marvel, a man capable of teaching an angel about Free Will, about love, about family, about home. Castiel stroked Dean’s thumb with his own.
“Pick the tunes, Cas.”
“What? I thought the driver chose the music, Dean. Passenger shuts his pie whole.” Sam yelled from the back seat.
“That’s not changed. You’re the passenger. Shut your pie whole.”
“And where’s Cas sitting?”
“In the driver’s seat.”
“Dean, how hard did you hit your head? You’re driving.”
“I’m behind the wheel. Yeah, but you know what Cas pointed out the other day? There’s really only one seat up here, isn’t there?”
Cas bit hit lip to keep from laughing, and turned his head to stare out the passenger window. He had never said anything like that.
“I mean, the seats are big enough for two people, sure. But it’s just the one front seat. I’ve seen the error of my ways. The front seat’s for the drivers. Rear seat's for the passengers. I shoulda been letting you choose the music before now. Sorry, buddy.”
“Oh my, God. This is worse than the Tulpa. It’s like a horror movie staring cupids. I’m going to bed. I hope when I wake up this whole conversation never happened.”
“Sweet dreams, princess.” Dean said, giving Cas another wink and a wide smile. “Got your music picked?”
"I trust ya. Put it in.”
Sam chimed in, “Is this music porn?”
Castiel pulled out the mixed tape Dean made for him.
Dean tsked. “Kids these days, Cas. What can we do with 'em?”
Cas finally let himself laugh, and the music started to play.
“Turn it up, Cas, it’s your favorite song.”
This moment was something he’d known little of before: Dean’s giddiness after a successful and pain free hunt. Dean liked doing good, saving people. It made him happy. And for once, there wasn’t an approaching apocalypse. And Cas wasn’t rushing off on some angelic errand. He was here. With Dean. And they were happy. And they were gonna stay that way.
Well, maybe Sam could be happier.
The question still burns. Did Claire orchestrate this romance after listening to her pop favorite songs a little too much? Will we ever know? I do have an idea of where I'd like Dean, Cas, Claire, and Sam to end up in this universe. One day, I might return to this fic. Chapter 1 was the first destiel fic I ever wrote...and it won't let me go, I guess. Thanks, as always for reading, and leaving comments and kudos.