Dean Occasionally Will Look In His Closet And It Just Be Empty. Because You Can't Convince Me Little

team free will + crowley textposts (part 2)

Harlivy post… gay women are real and doing lots of eco terrorizing ,, kissing other ladies and womanoids tenderly,, holding hands and crushing skulls, daintily

Dean’s sitting at the kitchen table eating meatloaf when it all sort of hits – and he’s desperate to remember it exactly how it happened.

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decided to start posting art on here for once… gay people follow me

Castiel tunes out the conversation the brothers are having on the front seat, going around in circles over and over the plan they have come up with. He looks around the backseat, looking for something to keep himself occupied with for the duration of the trip. Maybe one of Dean's books, or a tape waiting to be rewind and forgotten here. Dean taught how to do it not so long ago and he finds the task calming in its simplicity.

Before he can reach for the comic book he has spotted at the opposite end of the seat something white on the car' s floor catches his attention. It looks like a folded piece of paper, only a corner of it peeking from underneath Dean's seat. He picks it up and unfolds it, sure it's probably just a flyer Dean forgot to throw away, he hates finding those on the impala's windshield, or maybe is a spell he was carrying somewhere and got lost in here. He is sure Dean mentioned something about a piece of paper being misplaced, but he refused to tell Castiel what he actually was looking for.

He unfolds it delicately, the brothers still arguing back and forth,

movies to show cas

It says, written in Dean's familiar handwriting. Castiel keeps reading, there is a list of movies, some titles he is familiar with, others not so much, he is almost sad at the little amount of movies that have been crossed out, indicating they have watched them already. He would do all in his power to stay, to be around more at least, if things weren't as messy as they always are when it comes to their lives.

Even with the wave of sadness that floods him he smiles, it seems those movie nights Dean came up with are as important and dear to him as they are to Castiel himself.

"What are you smiling about back there, huh?" Dean gives him a suspicious look through the rearview mirror.

"Eyes on the road, Dean." Sam scolds, as Castiel replies "I just saw one of those pictures of cats on the internet."

As poorly versed as he still is on the way humans behave around others even him can tell Dean wouldn't appreciate this particular list coming up in front of his brother.

He waits instead, until Sam asks for them to make a stop so he can go to the bathroom, and he gives it back, folded as neatly as he found it, passing it over the back of the front seat for Dean to take it with a "I think I found that piece of paper you were looking for, Dean."

Dean mutters a quick "thanks", taking the paper from him and putting it away without looking back at Castiel, the back of his neck turning a light shade of red.

.

Castiel reaches inside his inner pocket, feeling a familiar weight there. Despite his coat being different to the one he was wearing when Lucifer killed him its contents seem to be the same. His fingers make contact with the hard surface of the tape he always carried in his pocket since Dean gave it to him. But there is something else there, something he doesn't remember having with him when he died, he fishes out the piece of paper. It's neatly folded, he unfolds it slowly, wondering who put it there and why

movies to show cas

it says, written in Dean's familiar handwriting, he smiles, a small, watery-eyed thing, seems like they got a second chance to keep crossing out more items on their list, despite the cowardice of a treacherous stab in the back and the hunger of a pyre of fire.

I don't know exactly when they sealed the deal but by the time the show ended they were married

so very married

I was inspired by some mood boards on Pinterest featuring abandoned places which made me imagine Dean and Castiel spending the night in a derelict house💙💚🌱🌿

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What they say: Dean is needy

What they mean: Asking Sam or Cas to do anything, ever, is horrible and mean and evil. Dean should be willing to do things for Sam or Cas at a moments notice, but being asked to do anything by the people they love is a horrible burden and should be recognized as such by the person inconveniencing them. Any relationship that inconveniences my fave is bad. But I do expect him to get all of the benefits of a relationship while contributing nothing—not even basic displays of care for another person such as answering the phone or checking in to say “I’m okay.”

Like yeah people can ask too much of you sometimes. However, part of being in a relationship with someone else means being willing to be inconvenienced by them. And some Samgirls and casgirls don't think their fave should ever be inconvenienced, and that anyone in their live (DEAN) asking for anything ever is manipulation and a violation of their autonomy.

Finished that WIP and boy do I love how this came out the colors just itch that part of my brain — also ivy is my new celebrity crush lmao.

I LiKe WoMEn

dean is hungry. he's always hungry. these days, if he isn't hungry then that means he's sick. so the pain is good. it keeps him awake, keeps him sharp, lets him know he's okay.

sammy is asleep, mouth open around snores. face down on the tiny, cramped single bed they're sharing, he's just slightly quieter than the tv. bleeding body heat against dean's hip and leg, a little sweaty and taking up too much space. alive, safe. splayed out across the mattress.

that's okay, though. dean can't lay down. he's not allowed to sleep until his dad gets home. he's got to stay awake, to watch out for sammy.

the tv flashes, spilling light over the mountains of his knees. this motel room is disgusting. everything reeks of cigarette smoke, staining the walls and sheets and making dean slightly nauseous. that could be the hunger, though.

sometimes when he's really, really hungry like he is now, he feels sick. like his stomach is a hole, swallowing up his insides.

he watches the quiet tv screen— some spanish movie is playing. the subtitles are moving too fast for his eyes to keep up, so he focuses on the colors, watches the shadows rise and swell over his knees.

yesterday was his birthday. dad didn't say a word, just dropped a twenty on the table and left for the bar and didn't come home until after four in the morning. there isn't a case in this town that they've found so far, but apparently the whiskey is good because they've been here for days.

he and sam had breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the first time in months. dean has perfected the art of making a cent stretch. he's eleven years old, now. they even had a pie. it was a little stale, and a stupid splurge. but sammy begged, and dean was helpless to say no because he wanted it just as much.

he doesn't feel any older. sometimes he feels ancient. right now he feels small and paper thin.

he's sort of desperately missing the sandwiches they had for dinner yesterday. there are no leftovers. no food waiting in the cabinets, but that's okay. dad fell asleep and dean stole ten dollars from his wallet.

he won't miss it. sammy will have breakfast. dean can wait a few more hours

it doesn't matter if he's starving.

_

"like this. use the spatula to pull them in from the edges so all the uncooked egg spills out. makes them fluffier. that, and the milk."

dean demonstrates. jack watches like a hawk even though he can't even see over the edge of the stove standing on his own, two little fists gripping the collar of cas's shirt like a lifeline to keep him steady as he leans over.

they're all pressed up together to fit in front of the stove, jack perched on cas's hip, and like this, side-by-side, dean can compare their nearly identical facial expressions. blonde hair and dark brown, the same cleft chin and bright blue eyes.

cas makes an identical face watching dean cook scrambled eggs to the one he does while focused on a hunt, channeling all of his angelic skill and strength for something as trivial as food or as important as measuring spell ingredients. jack is mirroring it almost uncannily.

dean isn't ashamed to admit that he finds it adorable.

he finishes up the eggs under the two careful sets of eyes and turns off the stove, letting cas hand him jack's plate first. a tiny pancake with a chocolate chip smile, two slices of sam's shoeleather bacon, and a small spoonful of eggs. there's already a bowl of fruit waiting for him on the table. jack is very particular about what he eats.

cas sets him down gently and dean hands him his plate, trusting the toddler to make it to the table because jack is always very careful.

"breakfast!" dean leans back to shout down the hall, tugging off his apron. cas's hand is huge and warm in the small of his back as he makes their plate, heaping on a pile of real bacon that won't leave the faint taste of burnt plastic in his mouth when he's finished eating it.

sam comes in first, followed shortly by eileen. his hair is still wet from his morning shower and together, they've been slowly reorganizing the library into something efficient.

they all make their plates and settle down to eat. it's a little crowded around the table, but they make do.

cas doesn't eat much. what he does comes off dean's plate, which was made up specifically in mind of that. .

sam piles so much fruit onto his that it spills over into his eggs and he makes a face, freeing a blueberry only to sentence it to being crushed between his molars.

eileen loves pancakes with fruit. specifically strawberries. dean made her's special, and when she sees that she lights up. it makes him smile, wide and happy, as they sign back and forth over the table, conversing silently.

he's still a little clumsy. cas helps him practice. he's getting better every day.

dean isn't full, yet. but, he isn't starving. he hasn't been in years. he won't ever be again.

jack smears his eggs everywhere, babbles on and on in a mismatch of both english and asl. cas watches him with huge, beautiful eyes. jack is telling them a largely exaggerated tale about a lady at the grocery store yesterday with a service dog whose tail and ears had been dyed rainbow. they've all heard about it twice, now. jack had been absolutely fascinated by the colors and the dog until he got distracted by the cereal aisle.

dean feels so young, for the first time in his entire life. he's home. he's happy. he's safe.