beforus

In which Dean Winchester gets an unsolicited dick pic from an unknown sender which is both totally not disappointing in that it's a really nice dick pic, and incredibly disappointing in that it's clearly a downloaded picture of his favorite porn star. There's absolutely no way it's actually this porn star sending it to him, right? Right?

There's something going on with Cas. Dean is determined to help him through it, in whatever way he can. He might end up with more than he bargained for. OR: Dean helps Cas scratch an itch. As it were.

Dean and Michael are destined to be together. Michael's already extremely protective of Dean and Dean always wants to be where Michael is--so could they just get together already?

"I had to draw all them perfectly," Cas insists, and Dean suddenly can't get rid of the image of Cas, clutching on to a Crayola washable marker, jamming it into his skin forcefully like a little kid mashes his markers on the paper in a vehement attempt to make the color deeper. "And now you're insulted 'cause I don't appreciate 'em?" Dean asks, bewildered. "No," Cas lies petulantly. "Huh." The stubborn child version of Cas Dean has painted in his mind is now clutching his paper possessively, shielding it from scrutiny. They drive in silence for a while. "Thank you for making my freckles," Dean grouses finally, knowing that it's the only way Cas will forgive him. ((((OR, IN WHICH CAS LIKES DEAN AND HIS FRECKLES, AND DEAN IS STUBBORNLY HETEROSEXUAL))))

Life had always been rough for long-time New Yorker, Castiel Haven. And when he ratted out his mob boss father, the rest of his horrific family, and about a half-dozen cops, he knew life wasn’t about to get better. Especially not when the FBI carted him off to the middle of nowhere, North Carolina. But he sure as hell didn’t expect the biggest complication to be a small-town brazen mechanic with a tenacious sex drive named Dean Winchester. One of them never lies. One of them never tells the truth. And both of them have no fucking clue what it means to love someone.

After Balthazar's detailed lecture, Dean thought he understood how this was gonna go. He thought he could be a good dominant for Castiel, could be everything that his angel needed. And he was... just not in the way he expected.

Dean has reoccurring dreams of the angel that he calls his best friend.

Sam Winchester has watched his brother Dean and the angel Castiel ignore their feelings for each other for years, and he is losing patience. When one day he can't take it anymore he decides to give them a helping hand, a push to get them to do something about it. So begins a week of torment for Dean, but for the best possible reason.

Sam and Dean are about to be killed in a fight when Cas steps in. He's not happy.

Dean wishes he could enjoy the boneless aftermath of being dually fucked within an inch of his life without the accompanying angst.

What Dean means to say is “You can’t stay.” Not that he wants to say it. Not that, in fact, it won’t kill another piece of whatever good is left inside him to say it. But it’s Sam, and take care of your brother is so worn into the grooves of his brain by now, obeying isn’t even voluntary. So if Cas’s being here—alive and human and here—puts Sam in danger, there’s nothing to be done. He can’t stay. But what he actually says is, “It’s not supposed to be like that.”