𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓮

Castiel goes through life tongue-first

So… Happy Pride Month, folks! 🏳️‍🌈

And happy PRIDE MONTH to these two and their bullshit!

IT'S TOO LATE TO PRAY. THERE'S NO SALVATION.

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@johnssoap and I tried out that “finish each other’s sketches” trend. I think it turned out really well! Pretty sure neither of us know who made the base we used. If anyone does please leave a comment and I’ll properly credit!

Sketches and inspiration under the cut

“Don’t try to sleep through the end of the world Bury me alive ‘Cause I won’t give up without a fight,

If you love me let me go ‘Cause these words are knives that often leave scars The fear of falling apart And truth be told, I never was yours The fear, the fear of falling apart”

This was meant to have a meaning, but I got more interested in being experimental while making it so i don't think the meaning comes off well. Other peoples takes would be interesting to hear though :)

[ anguish ]

⋆｡ ˚ close enough to notice

summary ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ castiel keeps finding excuses to stand near you, and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize it’s because of your lotion. pairing ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ castiel x reader ( gn ) wordcount ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ 546 genre ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ fluff warnings ˚˖𓍢ִִ໋ castiel being unintentionally intense, scent-related affection, mild teasing

notes ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ִ❀໋ consider supporting my work .ᐟ

the first time castiel does it, you think it’s an accident.

you’re in the bunker kitchen, half-asleep and waiting for your coffee to become strong enough to fix your mood, when he steps beside you and pauses. just like that. in that same typical castiel-weirdness of his.

you glance at him over your mug. “cas?”

A Teen!Destiel fic

Stoner Russian exchange student!Castiel x Newbie smoker & pressured parent!Dean

New hunt, new school, new people. Dean is basically Sam's dad.

(I’m sorry if this story is a little clunky, i almost died like 3 times this week)

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Miami Florida, April 1997

Dean had no clue how, but the Russians at the school always seemed so relaxed. He was familiar with the kids, a small group who kept to themselves at the lockers or parking lot, muttering softly about god knows what in their native tongue. While tame boys and girls were not uncommon at the school, their hushed politeness couldn’t save them from being an odd family of ducks. It was part of a foreign exchange program, Dean thought, as he’d never heard any of them say a word in English…Except for one who Sam asked for directions from on their first day. Some seventeen or so year old boy dressed cleanly in soft linen shirts and a well ironed trenchcoat. It was amazing how someone so nicely dressed could forget which direction a tie faced.

____

The afternoon came to an end in his eyes as Dean dropped Sammy off at debate club. Dean hadn’t thought much of the Russians until he sat in his car waiting for Sam. His mind which didn’t wander far as he noticed the leather of his car smelled mysteriously of weed. It wasn’t the first time the smell had shown up, nor was it the first time he’d had to air out Baby because of it. John would get frustrated, a feeling which surely wounded Dean in the process. He cranked the windows down and laid back for a nap in the meantime. “Hell, he’ll beat me anyway,” he muttered.

An approaching sunset later the hood creaked, smoke crept in as Dean gasped for school air. His lashes fluttered, taking in a familiar coat sprawled upon the window. The Russian kids, in their chattery bunch smoking joints. Weed? How did the exchange kids get their hands on weed? And so casually smoking in the parking lot of the school. “HEY!” he stuck his head out of the window to confront the group.

“I can see why you’re always so chill now.” Dean scowled. The group flinches in surprise and all but the boy on his car fled, still carelessly perched on the car hood.

The Russian continued to smoke as he looked back at Dean, his accent thick but clear. “You have a nice car.” He beamed.

Dean bristled, waving off smoke. “Yeah. I have a nice car. My car. That means get off of it.”

The boy looked back and laughed. He slid off the hood and stuck his head in the car, offering the joint to Dean.

“As sorry. It’s for you. Very strong.”

Dean, still upset, somehow felt inspired to take it. The Russian boy looked proud of himself, he didn’t talk to many people outside his usual group. On the verge of tossing the joint to the ground, Dean got out of the car (he’d never dare injure baby with smoke), walked a distance away, and…placed the joint between his lips while the boy followed. He didn’t know what came over him.

“This shit’s illegal, where’d you get this from?” Dean eyed the joint.

“Friends.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Da.”

Dean laughed dryly at the response and nodded his head. “I’m Dean. What’s your name, pal?” Dean took a puff and cursed under his breath as the warmth seeped into his lungs.

“Castiel.”

“What’re you doing in Florida, Castiel? Heard the girls in Russia are like supermodels, who would wanna leave that?” He snickered, relaxing at the next puff.

“Women are not objects to keep,” He responded curtly, producing another joint from his pocket and lighting it. “Beside, The boys in America are nice too.” Castiel took a hit.

“W-what?” Dean did a double take before he looked at the joint between his fingers. It was a wave of embarrassment that ran through his body, not from Castiel suddenly coming out to him, but because he felt bad for himself that he agreed. He suddenly started to take more notice of Castiel.

“I enjoy boys and girls. You can do that here with less troubles.”

Dean took another puff with a bit more hesitation. He hadn’t planned a response for that, yet one slipped off his tongue with ease: “….Oh Yeah? I… I’m gonna have to agree with you on that one. Have you seen Baywatch?” Dean coughs aggressively, his statement hardly registering to him as his own admission of bisexuality.

“No.” Castiel responded, unfazed.

“Well you should.”

“Very well.”

“You ever been with a boy?”

“No, but I wish to.” Castiel gave Dean an innocently kind look.

“That’s cool, I guess… But seriously, why Florida? Why America?”

“Lands of opportunity. And better tasting marajuana.” Castiel raised his joint up in a toast before placing it back between his lips. Dean soaked in the accent which laid thickly on his eardrums. To see someone younger than him— even if only slightly— give in to habits he admit not that he shared, made him hope Sam turned out better than he could parent him.

“You like beer?” Dean questioned.

“I have never had.” Cas takes a hit.

"Do you drink at all?"

"No."

"But you smoke."

"I see no connection." The Russian boy’s face was stone cold. It was a charming thing, his face. Pale and clean shaven, tired eyes in the color of heaven, and that voice. He could only blush at it all.

Dean cleared his throat: “I guess you're right. Well it’s great I’ll tell you that. That's what the land of opportunity is for! Drinking beer, and binging Baywatch!” Dean insisted. He finished the joint and slumped against a nearby car. A first experience with weed and its effects already started to cling to the worst of him. Castiel could already see his mood chance as Dean pleaded: "You gotta do it for me."

Castiel tugged at the neck of his sweater as the Florida heat had finally gotten too much, the humidity unlike anything back home. He brushed at his damp forehead and laid across the hood of another car:

“I do not like the effects of drinking, but I can see why you do.”

Disappointment crossed Dean’s face. It’s all he’d ever done really, drink, be a dad, and watch pay-per-view. “Why? Feels good.” Insecurity enveloped him as his arms wrapped tightly around his body.

Castiel held the joint between his teeth and shrugged his jacket off, slipping the fabric between Dean’s arms to hold. His hands linger a little too long on Dean’s. “Man already cannot see each other with sober mind. You hide under the mound of ice that is abstinence from your vices. Drunkenness is like blindly crawling and slipping on that ice. Exposed where I can see you, but you cannot steadily see me.”

His mind wandered aimlessly from Dean’s lips as he spat on the ground to the gelled up spikes of his military cut. Cas searched for heaven in him.

He continued: “Smoking, though, I can remember every part of you. And you, me. Like lying on top of that ice and crushing it with the weight of a now vulnerable soul. An angel leaving imprints in the snow as you are not a sober nor a blackout-edly drunken man. It doesn’t snow here like in Russia, Dean.”

Castiel finished his smoke, licking his lips to taste any residue. Dean felt like he’d been punched. His burning tears welled, his body and tongue loose, eyes a scratchy red which matched the boy across from him.

“It doesn’t snow…” Dean repeated. He did feel exposed, conscious, emotional nakedness.

He asked himself what Sam was doing, paranoia seeping into his thoughts. Sammy could be doing drugs, getting hurt, witnessing something horrible without the protection of his brother. And if he fell victim to any of it? Dean’d be too high to do anything. Conscious but useless, so different from the sleeping aids of alcohol. Castiel pulled his arms away only for Dean to grab hold of them again.

“Castiel. Do you think my brother could tell? If I tried looking at him after a drink or two?” He wiped his eyes:

“That he can see into my dumb brain and all I can see in him is a baby? …Goddammit, I gotta be this kid’s dad, his mama, and his big bro all in one.” He stared out at the school, let go of Cas, and began to weep.

Castiel assumed it was a bad trip as he watched Dean pace back and forth, shoulders slumped and circling the empty parking spot. Dean’s behavior got more erratic, more paranoid. Castiel's jacket stayed slung over Dean's shoulder like a distant hug.

A foot tapped in rhythm with Castiel’s thoughts. He wanted to reach out again. “My sister, Ana, is like my mother. We loved our dad but we wanted a future outside of Russia. If we stayed with dad, we would be wrapping his books in leather until we died. So Ana put me in exchange program and moved with me. She hurts because she loved dad but loved freedom more. I can see it always in her. It’s ok to see hurt.” Castiel wanted to say more but there was nothing left to utter.

The weeping boy bit his tongue in shame, knowing someone from so far away was doing a better job mothering than he was.

“I just want Sammy to see how much I love him. I don’t want him to see how bad I am at bein’ his protector. I’m a bad brother!”

“You’re high, Dean.”

The statement sends a shiver up Dean’s neck. Panic shook his body as he remembered Sam could be out any minute. “Shit, I’m s’pposed to drive Sammy home! Can’t do that now! He can’t see me like this, I gotta protect him. Said I’d do better for him.” Dean starts to run his fingers through his hair, scratching at his neck.

As his hands clawed against his flesh, Castiel dashed to Dean and pulled his hands away, holding them tight.

“Dean.” Castiel breathed amidst his own high. “Calm down. Look up.” Dean’s teeth gritted in anguish, hands being squeezed by the boy. His head nodded shakily, Dean complied. He looked up at the setting sky, all shades of pinks and blues. “Now look back at me, Dean.”

The shade of blue he saw in the sky didn’t go away when he dropped his sight to Castiel. Tears ran over those pale hands once they made way to Dean’s face, cupping his jaw like he’d break at any moment.

“I just wish Sammy can see only the good in me when I drink. It’s not his fault. I’m trying to be a good dad for him.”

“You are.”

“How do you know?”

“You don’t need to be drunk for me to see it.”

“B-but I’m high.”

Castiel continued to cradle Dean’s face. “You are. Is there something else you are hiding?” The statement caught Dean off guard, but the unorthodox method of grounding seemed to be doing its job. Those pink, quivering lips of his pouted to an ugly frown. Dean’s face flushed with red, hesitant.

“…I think you’re pretty.” Dean sputtered with embarrassment. “And that you should watch Baywatch with me. And..”

“And?”

“I like you a lot.”

Castiel’s eyes widened then tightly shut as Dean pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. Castiel kissed back, still holding Dean’s face. The embrace long and tender and tasted of smoke, their first times being so true of themselves encapsulated in a single moment. Dean was first to pull back, panting softly in time with Castiel. It was intense enough to give both boys the nerves, Dean searching through Castiel’s eyes for a reaction.

“You do not have to look at me like that, Dean. I can see you.”

“Just double checking,” he quivered, hands interlocking once more. “Is it stupid to say I want this again? Some other day?”

Castiel responded with a guilty look, causing Dean to look sick. “I will be leaving soon, Dean. It’s May, I will go back to Russia for the summer. But I plan a return for college.”

Dean shook his head. He pleaded to the sky first, then to the boy in front of him: “No. No no, I don’t want that. You can come with me, and Sammy, we’re traveling all over, we’re leaving….tomorrow.” Realization caused his face to fall. God gives them the life of a nomad and the curse of meeting prior to departure. “I’m going to Kentucky next week.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…Do you think I’ll ever see you again?”

“I hope so.”

“I’ve never said this to anyone, but… I lov—“

“Dean?”

The moment was interrupted soon after, Sam arrived at the parking lot, searching for Dean. The little Winchester dropping his bag by Dean’s feet and instinctively hiding behind the figure of his protector. Dean picked him up into a hug, his parental instincts in overdrive.

He took a second to gather himself, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Hey buddy.”

“Put me down, Dean, I’m not a baby!”

“S-sorry. How was the last day, ready to go again?”

“No.”

“Sorry, kid.”

“Not a baby.”

“Right.”

He set Sammy down and turned his attention back to Castiel.

Dean cleared his throat and rubbed his hands against his jeans. “…Take care of yourself Cas, ok?”

“What was it you were going to say earlier, Dean?” Castiel reached for Dean’s hand, but he pulled away. It would hurt too much to touch him again.

“….B…Baywatch. I love Baywatch. Give it a look for me, ok? C’mon Sammy, put your stuff in the car and let's get a snack. I'm hungry.”

Castiel raised a single hand in goodbye, unseen by Dean as he ushered his brother into the car.

"I need my jacket ba-" He dropped his hand. "Do svidaniya, Dean."

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Tags: @ivanhoe1820 @qapcake <333