Beverly tugged on Dean’s sleeve, pulling him over to the high-top table where they’d left their empty beer glasses. “You know, my apartment’s just around the corner from here,” she said, leaning over the table very deliberately. “What d’ya say we go back and celebrate our win?”
Dean dragged his gaze up from her cleavage, and smiled. “That sounds like my kind of party.”
She inched closer to him, resting a hand on his bicep, before asking in a low voice, “Bring your friend?”
“Wha…?” Dean glanced over to the bar, where Sam was ordering a pitcher of beer. “Honey, that’s my brother, so no way. And I’m starting to question your taste.”
She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Not him.” She nodded towards the pool table, where Cas was racking up for the next game.
Dean’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh.”
Dean couldn’t really question her judgement there. Cas did look awfully good that night, in jeans and a blue button-down from his Fed getup, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. After he’d gotten the hang of pool he was all steely determination and confident movements, tempered by a lightweight tipsy grin that gave him a quirky kind of warmth. The guy’s only sexual experience so far had ended with him nearly getting stabbed to death, so Dean was loathed to deny him a round two. He might have suggested that Beverly take Cas home on her own, because Dean was selfless and a good friend like that. But the idea of being there with Cas, showing him the ropes, and making sure that this time was everything that it should be for him, seeing his reactions during the best parts… the idea made his stomach roll over and his heart flutter in his chest, but it didn’t suck.
Beverly bit her lip and raised an eyebrow questioningly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.
Dean pulled what he hoped was a confident smirk and nodded. “I think that can be arranged.”
"Let it hurl, let the awful song be heard / Blue bird, I know your beat, baby."
Castiel is the reflection of streetlights on wet asphalt he's the hand on the small of your back he's the storm and the knife and the hand that wields them; he is the breeze through your garden in spring, so righteously alive that you can't help but swell with ancient and intrinsic sadness in its presence. You know the rules.
Rainy road trip fic. Sammy gets to sleep. Dean gets to sing. Cas is loved.
snippet under the cut ♡♡
The Impala cruises mile after mile of road, endless white lines rushing by, stark and shining in the freshly cleaned headlights.
They change drivers at the last gas station for forty miles. Sam, the only one with any kind of decent sleep schedule, insists Dean take the graveyard shift so he can get his beauty sleep.
And so it goes, as it always does: Sam unfolding himself himself from the driver’s seat to stretch his moose legs; Dean yawning his way out of the passenger to blearily grumble and fraud his way through gas payment; and Cas, ever consigned to the back seat, paper-towel duty, and snack runs, takes his sweet time getting Dean’s midnight coffee.
Finally, when they’re all re-assembled in the car, errant coffee spillage mopped up, Dean gingerly sips at the styrofoam cup before securing it in the cupholder beside Sam. He holds a splayed palm over it for a second, wordlessly threatening it to stay put.
Sam passes him the tape box from the glove compartment. “Don’t let Cas play any of his anxiety ballads,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “I need to sleep.” He settles in to lean on the window, tugging his sweatshirt sleeves down over his hands.
“I have no intention of―” Cas begins.
Dean waves him off. “―Okay Sammy. Will do.” And, tossing Cas a conspiratorial smile in the rear-view mirror, he begins rummaging through the box.
I love shipper!Sam but I feel like he won’t be immediately gung-ho about it because he saw how Dean got after Cas died in Widower Arc. Dean was becoming John, he says it himself. Being with Cas, or losing Cas, brings out some terrifying aspects of John within Dean. Sam loves his brother, he does, but also I think he’s kinda scared and annoyed by the controlling and suffocating aspects of Dean because Dean doesn’t see him as ‘brother’ and ‘equal’ but as his responsibility(had to be mother and father to Sam so Dean sees Sam as his kid in some ways), someone he should protect and look after. Sam’s been working all his life to escape John, escape blood and how controlling it can be.
Then Dean starts repeating the same patterns John did after Mary died right in front of him.
I feel like he’d be very split on Destiel getting together. I mean, first of all, that's his brother, second, Cas is his best friend. Like imagine seeing that go down lol. But also, practically speaking, the two of them don’t have that great of a track record in their relationship wrt each other.
He might be like “What? WHAT??? WHAT!?!?!?”, have a silent breakdown, and then come back after a while and ask. “Okay when did this start??? Dean you’re not straight???? HOW!?!?!?”
not to compare two things that have nothing to do with each other but yesterday i realized dean's microexpression when he realizes lucifer left cas's body is the same expression booth has when bones tells him he's the father and i haven't stopped thinking about it since
Why no one talks about that spn scene where cas is talking with dean on the phone and he is trying to not be heard by lucifer but when lucifer appears next to him, cas panics and says to dean in a very mellow voice "i can't wait to see you"?