harry-dr-a:

Draco Malfoy had only ever been scared twice in his life. Once when The Dark Lord returned and once when he told Harry Potter he was in love with him.

He can recall the moment he realised that he was in love with The Boy Who Lived. It was an early Tuesday morning and Draco had awoken to an empty bed, yet he thought nothing of it. This usually happened so he presumed Harry had gone off to work. He was wrong, Draco came down to his kitchen to find Harry whistling along to the tune of the radio whilst fussing about over the stove. Draco can distinctly remember the smirk Harry threw over his shoulder followed by “Your coffee is on the table babe.” And it was as if in that instance everything had been flipped upside down because for the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was in love.

This in itself didn’t scare him but he knew that the day he told Harry would be the day he feared. That day came around sooner than anticipated. Of course he hadn’t planned to have told Harry, the words had slipped passed Draco’s lips before he even knew they were out. It was the sheer surprise of it all that scared him to his core. However when Harry pulled him into a hug, kissed his temple and replied with “I love you too Draco, more than you could ever imagine,” Draco wondered why he had ever feared it at all.

justrandomspnstuff:

It happened once when they were watching a movie together. Cas’s head was on Dean’s lap as the hunter carded his fingers though the angel’s hair. It wasn’t really even a funny movie. And, it had been so quiet Dean had almost missed it: The tiny huff from the angel, his lips turning to a smile and the slight movement against Dean’s thigh.

Dean smiled, staring at the angel, his fingers stilling. “God, Cas,” he whispered. “Did you just laugh?”

Blue, crinkly eyes smiled up at him: “Yeah,” he said. “This is a funny movie.”

Dean started working his fingers through Cas’s hair again, amused. “Not really, though,” Dean said. But he couldn’t help but stare at the angel, waiting anxiously for it to happen again. To Dean’s disappointment, it didn’t.

But he couldn’t get it out of his head. He had to hear it again.

So, he tried telling jokes at dinner. Sometimes Cas would smile, but usually he just squinted, confused.

Then, he tried scaring Cas with similar results. Finally, in desperation, cuddled up next to the angel in bed, he even tried tickling him. And, if an awkward, “Dean, what are you doing?” was the desired result, then the experiment had been a thousand percent successful.

It really shouldn’t have bothered Dean, but for some reason it really did. He woke up next to Cas the next morning, biting his lip.

Cas stretched, yawning, his hair messy as if he’d slept, though they both knew he hadn’t.

“Dean?” Cas asked when he saw the hunter’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Dean rolled his eyes, turning over. “Nothing,” he said, trying to sound casual. “It’s actually really stupid.”

Cas grabbed the hunter’s shoulder pulling him back down, then climbed on top of Dean pinning him with a mischievous look.

“Dean…” Cas scolded.

Dean sighed. “I just wanted to hear you laugh again. I’ve been trying for days, but you kind of have a stick up your ass.”

Suddenly, Cas smiled. He leaned his head down until his forehead rested on Dean’s.

“You are ridiculous,” the angel said. Then, Cas started laughing. Genuinely. Dean started smiling, too, pulling Cas’s shirt in for a series of kisses that broke apart every few seconds with a chuckle or a smile as they rolled around on the bed. The whole thing was comical, and as Cas had put it; ridiculous. When they broke away, they were both out of breath, flopping on their backs with a grin.

“Thanks,” said Dean with a huff.

Cas gave him a quick peck on the forehead: “anytime.”

anastiel:

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relucant:

“So like,” Dean said with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, “it actually, y’know, feels good?” He squinted at the skin mag he’d accidentally unearthed from the pile of debris on Cas’ desk.

Cas rolled his eyes. “No, Dean. Men have been sticking their dicks into each for thousands of years because they hated it.”

“Asshat,” Dean said, tossing the magazine at Cas’ head. “But like, most of the girls I know said it really just hurt.”

“Well, most of the girls you know are probably having sex with either teenagers or frat boys, neither of which are particularly known for their sexual prowess or were interested in adequate prep. Or lube,” he added with a shudder.

“Huh,” Dean said, chewing on a fingernail. A slight blush highlighted his freckles, and Cas willed himself not to get a boner while discussing anal sex with his mostly-straight best friend. “I’ve, uh, fingered myself,” he admitted, and that particular battle went out the window. “In the shower. But it didn’t really feel good.”

“Contrary to popular belief, water is terrible lube,” Cas pointed out. “Sexy as shower sex seems, it’s usually pretty awkward.”

“Huh,” Dean said again. He paused for a moment, then blurted, “Do you think you could show me?”

heroicidean:

~ SPN 12x13 coda ~

The hinges on Dean’s bedroom door creaked as he pushed it shut. He paused mid-stride to toe off his boots, wincing as the action twisted his ankle this way and that. He should have undone the laces more. He should have done a lot of things…

Deep breath in; quick breath out.

She was his mother – there was no way he could fucking demand her to stay in the bunker. Mo…Mary was so much different from what he expected – the picture John painted for him on long, quiet car rides were all in rosy hues. He remembered the good things about her.

That was not to say – ugh…

Dean let out a whine of groan as he flopped into bed. He loved her; he loved Mom. How could he not? But this? Working with the Brits…willingly? After what they did to Sam, Dean could not even fathom her reasoning behind her decisions.

And so, the rose-colored paint began to chip away. If he was being honest, it had started a while ago. 

Dean closed his eyes. Deep breath in – his phone vibrated twice in his back pocket – quick breath out. Twisting around, he slid his phone out to check his new messages, both from Cas.

Cas

12:31am // I might have a new lead on Kelly

12:31am // Sorry if I woke you

Dean’s thumbs hovered over his screen as he stared at the keyboard. He caught a glimpse of himself in the screen and sighed at his deepening frown lines. Sighing, he tapped on the phone icon in his texting app and held his phone up to his ear.

The dial tone rang twice before he heard some muffled fumbling on the other end of the line. “You didn’t wake me up,” Dean said before Cas could greet him

“That’s good.” 

The tension in Dean’s chest unfurled at the sound of those two simple words. He tipped his head back to rest it on one of his two pillows as he stretched his jean-clad legs across the bed. Dean wiggled his toes, the tip of his big toe peeking out his sock. Was it already time to go clothes shopping again? The last time he and Sam went was at that Salvation Army in Muncie. Maybe the time had come aga –

“Something wrong?”

“No.” Dean blinked at the concern in Cas’ voice. “Well, yes,” he added after a second of thought.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No.” Dean cracked a smile when Cas huffed on the other end. “Sorry to bother you, buddy. I – “ his speech halted and he adjusted his grip on his phone. “I guess I just would rather talk than text right now.”

“You’re never a bother, Dean.” He could almost hear it, the tiny hint of a smile that Cas adopted whenever something amused him, however slightly. It was gone a second later when he asked, “What’s the matter?”

So, Dean told him. He told him everything. About the day they had had tracking down the ghost of Crowley’s son’s fiance to Mary’s revelation mere hours ago. Cas simply listened as Dean vented, offering advice whenever he asked for it. When prompted, Cas went into detail about his day, including the fact that he was almost positive that Kelly and Lucifer’s nephilim were now in the hands of a powerful demon. 

Silence crackled over the speakers as Cas’ retelling of his day came to a close. “It’s getting late,” he said quietly. The declaration was punctuated with a yawn. Dean pulled his phone away from his ear to check the time. 3:25am. Well, shit. “I should let you get some rest.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He sighed, pulling his blankets over his jean-clad legs. It definitely was not the first time Dean had gone to sleep in his close, and it certainly would not be the last. “Thanks for listening, Cas.”

“Of course. You know I always appreciate our talks. I – “ his voice cut off with another yawn. This time, Dean joined in. “I’ll see you soon, Dean.”

“Yeah. G’night, Cas,” he said as his phone fell from his ear.

“Good night,” Dean heard as he hung up his phone. His face burrowed into his pillow as his arms curled into his sleeping position. For a split-second, he thought about getting out of bed to switch off the lamp on his desk. In the end, he thought better of it, instead deciding to sleep. 

Dean’s hand tightened around his phone as he closed his eyes. It was still a little bit warm by the time he drifted off to sleep.

stardvstcas:

Word Count: Appx 6.5k
Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel 
Rating: Teen + (for swearing)
Summary:  Fifth Grade teachers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak manage to get sucked in to doing the same “Pen Pal Project” that their students are doing.
Note: Many thanks go to thepizzaseraph​ and ackles-likes-snackles​ for beta-ing and such. 
Also Read On: Archive of Our Own

When the idea was first suggested, Castiel didn’t know what to do with it. After his students started getting excited about it and continued to pester him, he figured he could at least take it to his supervisor and see what she had to say.

Naomi was a very strict woman, with hair always tied back in a slick, tight bun and lips that were always pressed together thinly. Newer teachers were always wary of her, walking on tiptoes around her and agreeing mightily to anything she said.  She’d been Cas’ supervisor since he’d started teaching seven years ago, so he knew her well enough to not be so frightened anymore.

“Apparently,” he told her, sitting comfortably in the leather chair in front of her desk, “the high school has some kind of affiliation with schools in Europe, and the language students get paired with a pen pal for the year. Daniel’s older sister writes to a girl in Italy - this was all his idea, you know. And once he mentioned it, everyone started going absolutely crazy… They are all very taken with the idea, and I think it would be a wonderful way for them to improve their writing.”

Naomi stayed silent for a moment, mulling it over in her head. She slipped her glasses off her nose and set them carefully atop a stack of manila folders. “I don’t see why not.” She said eventually, beginning to flip through some papers, “If the high school has affiliates, it shouldn’t be hard for us to branch off of that.”  

It took two weeks to sort out the rest of the details, and then Cas was standing at the front of his classroom, watching his students file slowly into the room, hanging coats on hangers and setting lunchboxes in cubbies before finally taking their seats. Winter Break was slowly approaching and he could tell they were all getting anxious to be done with school for now. He hoped that this new pen pal project would keep them subdued for the next few days.

“Okay guys, I’ve got some really awesome news.”

“Can we do the pen pals?” Daniel asked, as he had every morning for the past three weeks. The question had lost the enthusiasm it had once contained, now sounding like he was just barely wanting to hope for it. Cas grinned.

“Actually… Yes.”

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boykingdom:

okay but au where dean goes deaf in one ear.

it was due to angels, probably. sons of bitches had too many things to say and not the right types of voices to say them, and they blew out dean’s right ear drum. it sucks (especially on hunts) and he’s pissed, but he can deal. at least he didn’t go completely deaf.

and it upsets cas that the angels would do that to dean, but he discovers that it has it’s advantages, too. one day he’s sitting shotgun in the impala with dean driving and singing his music obnoxiously loud, and as he looks at dean he feels like he can’t possible contain all that he’s feeling. the way the sunlight catches dean’s profile and makes the edges of his hair look gold and his eyes shine like emeralds. how he drums along on the steering wheel to his favorite songs and sings like he doesn’t care who’s listening. 

while dean turns his head in preparation of making a left turn, cas leans toward him and whispers into his deaf ear “i love you, dean winchester.”

it goes on like that for awhile, and it helps cas cope with the thought of unrequited love. he’ll be sitting on dean’s right, or standing behind him so he can lean forward towards dean’s deaf side, and he’ll use these stolen moments to whisper the things he only wishes he had the courage to tell him where he can hear. “you’re beautiful.” “i wish i could stay.” “everything about you is perfect.” “you’re all that i want.”

but then one day, he slips up. it’s a stupid mistake, but it was bound to happen eventually. 

he’s sitting on a park bench on dean’s left, the two of them waiting for sam to finish up his research at the library, as they’ve already gotten done interviewing all the witnesses. dean is in a good mood that day; all chatter and “hey, do you think sam would let us order pizza tonight?”

and cas is all smiles as he listens to dean speak, more than happy to let the man talk. while dean in looking down at the notes in his lap he took from the interviews, cas murmurs “i would like to kiss you.”

when dean looks up, startled, he all too late realizes his mistake.

“what?” dean breathes. “what did you just say?”

cas curses himself in his head. dean’s left ear is his good ear. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“nothing,” cas says, willing his voice not to quiver. he looks at the ground and thinks to himself, this is it. he’s messed up and now dean is never going to want to see him again.

there’s a moment of silence in which cas tries not to shake and to keep his tears at bay as what feels like the weight of everything he feels for dean comes crashing down on him. a moment of silence before he hears dean say “cas?”

cas looks up, and suddenly there are lips on his, and he realizes he never knew what happiness was until this moment. dean’s lips are soft and slightly chapped and absolutely perfect, and cas has no idea how he spent so many years of his existence without this wonderful man here to hold in his arms.

that night, when they’re naked and tangled up under the scratchy sheets of their motel room bed, cas rolls over and whispers into dean’s good ear the same words he told him that day in the impala: “i love you, dean winchester.”

dean’s whole face softens before he says “i love you, too,” with a reverence that could only equal cas’. cas takes dean’s face in his hands and kisses him sweetly, and it seems as though all the stars in the universe have somehow aligned for the man and the angel, and this is it, this is heaven.

outpastthemoat:

Cas has a theory.  

He thinks it’s possible that Dean wants to kiss him.  

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slayertsetsang:

“I want you,” Dean murmurs into Cas’s ear. Cas mumbles something incoherently and burrows closer into Dean, shifting so that his head rests comfortably in the crook of Dean’s shoulder.

“You just had me,” Cas whispers, drawing the covers over their cooling bodies, still slightly slick with sweat and the taste of each other. “Multiple times, in fact,” he says, and Dean could hear the grin in his voice. “Which is actually amazing, considering you’re thirty-five today.”

Dean shivers and pulls Cas in closer, resting his hand on his back. “What do you know about the relationship between aging and the amount of times a guy can come, huh?” he asks teasingly. “You were human for about five minutes-”

“And I’m a human now again,” Cas interrupts softly, reaching up and pressing a simple kiss to Dean’s lips.

“Which brings us back to what I was saying,” Dean murmurs again, returning the kiss, his body too tired for anything more. “My birthday was great,” he continues, “the birthday pie, and Sammy, and Charlie, and the special edition of Lord of the Rings, it was all-” he kisses Cas’s forehead, then his lips again- “awesome.”

“But?” Cas crinkles his nose, confused.

“Marry me,” Dean says. Cas’s jaw drops open, and Dean grins. “I want you. For my birthday.”

Cas hesitates, and Dean tenses, his nerves thrumming, but Cas only smiles brilliantly up at him. “You’ll have to apologize for my lack of a bow and wrapping pape-”

Dean kisses the rest of the sentence away, and their bodies forget how tired they’d been just minutes ago.

frecklesandsky:

deancas drunk/fake relationship au

The first kiss is kind of a joke.

Castiel is at Charlie’s party and some guy is making fun of him for wearing a flower-print shirt, of all things.

“What are you, gay?” The guys asks, mockingly.

Castiel draws himself up and says, “Yes, I am.” He looks around and finds Dean, who he knows, but not that well, quite near him. He reaches out and grabs Dean by the elbow, because he’s had a few drinks and it seems like a good idea. “And this is my boyfriend. If you don’t leave me alone he’s gonna kick your ass.”

“This is your boyfriend?” The guys asks disbelieving, taking in Dean’s sturdy boots, his old jeans, his plaid jacket, his broad shoulders. 

“Yes!” Castiel insists, “Look, see,” He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Dean’s mouth. He knows it’s risky, he might get punched in the face. He’ll probably get yelled at, at the very least. He just hopes that Dean has enough mercy to wait until this guy is out of earshot.

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elizabethrobertajones:

Oh no.

http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/146761508468/pastelroyalty-pastelroyalty-this-flower-shop

#I kinda want to do it :P

… I kind of did it because after a certain amount of terrible sleep my impulse control is non-existent

---

This is probably a trap, Castiel thought, looking at the sign.

“If your name is Castiel, stop in today for a free rose”

Winchester and Sons florist was not just part of his walk to and from work - it felt like part of his daily routine, somewhere along the level of importance as the stop to buy coffee a minute earlier. 

In the morning he passed by as the shop was still opening, and if he was running late, it would be in time to wave good morning to the taller of the brothers as he brought out buckets and trays of flowers to sit in the sun, exchanging the pleasant “hi”s of acquaintances who saw each other often enough for one word conversations and nothing more. 

If Cas made good time and got a better start, he could pass the shop as the elder brother was washing the windows and singing to himself off-tune, and that fleeting encounter could make any sort of terrible day at the office somehow bearable.

If he spotted Cas coming too soon he would stop singing before Cas could hear him clearly, but they shared an awkward smile that Cas would carry with him for the rest of the day.

Occasionally he wouldn’t be spotted at all, and he could walk right past, and catch the song that the sponge squeaked in time to on the windowpane. It always felt wrong to miss out on the smile and be mistaken for any old pedestrian, but the tunes Cas didn’t even know hung in his head and somehow everything would go right that day.

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thegentlemaninthetophat:

“Somebody called you my husband today.  When you were talking to the sheriff and I was speaking to the nurse.  I didn’t correct her,” Cas says quietly in the dark of their room. 

“You didn’t correct her?” Dean returns.  

“I liked it.  It was nice.  Are you mad?”

“No,” Dean answers just as quiet. “You- You liked it?”

“Yes.  Of course.”

Their room was quiet save the movement it took for Dean to kiss him.  Soft and urgent.  

“If-” Dean stops.  He kisses Cas again.

“If what?”

“If you had a last name I’d take it, you know.”

casthewise:

The first time Dean figures out he can sweep Cas off his feet is during a hunt: rogue angels have been killing people expressly to lure Cas and Winchesters into their midsts, and Team Free Will is caught off-guard. Which is not the worst thing to ever happen, but Cas gets banged up pretty good, and with Grace seeping out of him at an alarming rate, it’s easier to carry him to the Impala than drag him along. 

Dean honestly doesn’t notice that he picked up an angel of the lord and carried him to safety until Castiel is back at the Bunker, healed up and squinting at a book in the library. He gets up to find another huge tome and that’s when Dean sweeps him off his feet a second time.

Needless to say, the second time is deliberate. 

And, to be honest, a lot less graceful. 

Because Cas isn’t hurt, the angel’s arms flail and his legs kick in surprise, hands moving to grip at Dean’s shoulders for stability. “What…?!” The tome drops to the floor with a loud bang and Dean smirks in triumph. Look at him, fuckin’ carrying an angel of the lord.

Castiel is significantly less impressed.

“Dean, put me down.”

“What? Why?” And Dean might walk around a little, just to prove he can. 

Cas rolls his eyes. “Because you’re treating me like an invalid,” he growls. “And I don’t understand. Where are we going?”

“Just to like the kitchen or whatever,” the hunter says, casually. “No big deal.”

A frown. “Dean.”

“Hey, look, we’re here!”

When Cas is deposited onto the ground, it’s very clear the angel hopes this is last time he’s ever forced to be carried like that. 

Unfortunately for him, it isn’t.

And Dean doesn’t know when Cas stops making faces at it, or when he stops doing it ‘just because he can’, but somewhere along the way–somewhere amidst the random lifts down the hallway or to the library, or from the kitchen to the couch and vice versa… things changed. It kind of became just this weird thing they did. Something Sam would laugh at. Something Cas would tolerate with adorable bewilderment. Something Dean would just… so. 

Something about closeness. 

“Why do you carry me?” Cas asks for the millionth time, squinting up at his friend as they make for the war room. And Dean’s not sure if it’s the closeness or the air or what, but suddenly he’s saying:

“I guess I just like knowing I can protect you like this.”

And then he gets all blushy, and Cas gets all wide-eyed, and suddenly Dean’s grasping at six feet of squirming angel as the messy-haired dork fuckin’ surges up to plant one on him. No hesitation, no warning, just–BAM! A kiss. Right on the mouth.

“You should take me to the couch,” Cas says matter-of-factly.

Dean kisses him in response.

apiaristcas:

Sequel to this (x), a fic I wrote back in the fall… sorry it took so long for me to continue this ‘verse! ((Really the reason I wrote this was because @hangsabove was so encouraging! Thank you!!!))

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