#bold sartorial statement

I haven’t even seen the episode, and I know this is true.

Hi! Thank you for the ask! I, uh, accidentally made a Bad Friend Scott drabble? I hope you don’t... mind? Sorry. (on ao3)

22 “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re with him,” Scott said. His voice was low, but Derek had no problems hearing him from the Stilinskis’ kitchen. He wondered if Scott didn’t realize or if he just didn’t care.

“You know what,” Stiles started, his voice tired, “I don’t owe you an explanation. He makes me happy, that should be enough for you.”

“When has he ever done anything good though?” Scott asked and Derek couldn’t help but steel himself.

“When-. Are you serious?” There was a moment’s silence, then Stiles spoke in a harder voice Derek had ever heard. “Get out.”

This has been sitting in my inbox for ages, I’ll bet you thought I forgot! I didn’t though, I just had this idea and then I kept getting stuck. I finally finished, though. Hope you like it! :)

–isn’t anything we can do about–

–baby in Houston–

–know Ash is sneaking between heavens again, I just can’t figure out how he’s–

–you sure it’s cats this time–

“Cas!”

Cas’s eyes flick up to Dean’s, the closest he gets to looking startled.

Dean’s face is expectant. He must have asked a question, Cas thinks. What was he going on about when I became distracted by Angel Radio? A case. A vampire. He must want my help.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says.

Dean’s face falls.

“Oh,” he says softly, staring at a point somewhere past Cas’s shoulder. “If you think that’s best. I just thought..” He rakes a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Never mind. I’ll just…I’ve got to…there’s that vampire thing to take care of…”

And he’s gone.

Cas blinks. What was that about?

All day Dean is on edge around him. They dispose of the vampires–there were three, not just one, but they were easy enough to deal with–but Dean barely speaks. Whenever Cas reaches out to touch Dean he finds only air, and that night in the motel room–a room they have to themselves for the first time in ages–Dean kisses his cheek, whispers “goodnight”, and pretends to fall asleep.

Cas watches Dean pretending to sleep. He remembers.

Three months ago…

They were in the bunker, researching a rune they’d never seen before. Cas asked for a book, and when Dean handed it to him their fingers touched. Something went through them, stronger than lightning. Their eyes connected, blue and green, as they so often did, and ever so slowly Dean brought his other hand up to Cas’s face. He ran his thumb along Cas’s jaw, the rasp of stubble loud in the silence. “Is this okay?” he murmured. Cas didn’t trust his voice. He nodded, barely. And then Dean’s lips were on his, tentative at first, and then hungry, starving, and Cas suddenly realized that this right here was what the poets and playwrights went on about. He’d been kissed before. He’d even had sex before, when he’d been temporarily human. But he’d never felt anything like this. This was hands and lips and raw, untamed fire and Dean, oh-so-much Dean, and within moments Cas was drunk with the scent and the taste of him.

“Stop the car, Dean.”

They are only a few miles from the bunker, but Cas can’t take the silence any more. The turn off ahead is as good a place as any for them to talk.

Dean sighs. “We’re almost home, Cas. Can’t this, whatever it is, wait?”

“Dean, you know I can make the car stop without your help. I don’t want to do that, because I know how much affection you have for this car.”

Cas sees Dean’s hands tighten on the Impala’s steering wheel, as if he can somehow protect his precious car from the angel. Then his grip relaxes, and he gives in. “Fine,” he says.

Dean parks the car, turns off the engine, and stares into the darkness. “Dean,” Cas says, “what did I do? I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.”

“What did you–what do you mean what did you do?” Dean is so surprised he forgets to avoid looking at Cas, and turns to look right into his eyes. “We were in the bunker. I spent ten minutes telling you I was tired of sneaking around, keeping secrets from Sam, that I’m not ashamed to be in love with you and I want to tell him. I turned to you and said, ‘So, should we tell Sam? Or, I don’t know, who knows how he’s going to react. Maybe we should just keep going the way we are. Maybe we should just keep it–keep us–a secret for a while longer.’ And you said, ‘Of course, Dean’ in that angelly voice of yours.  Are you…” Dean’s voice breaks. “..do you not want anyone to know about me?”

Understanding washes over Cas. “Dean. Oh Dean. I am so sorry.” Before the words are spoken he is holding his love close, arms wrapped tight and wings rustling. “I didn’t hear any of that. There was a lot of talk on Angel Radio that morning, and I got…distracted. I thought you were asking me if I would help you hunt the vampire. That was the last thing I remembered hearing. Of course we should tell Sam, I’ve been telling you from the beginning I think he already suspects.”

Cas feels Dean relax in his arms. “Tonight, then,” sighs Dean. “We’ll tell him tonight. And then…you can move into my room.”

Johanna Watson (Sherlock North) fancast: Anni-Kristiina Juuso/Ánne-Risten Juuso

@destielonfire replied to your text post

As a total newbie writer, i would be super interested in such a tutorial. And yes i have had the experience you describe before. It's especially painful when the summary & tags sound so damned awesome....

@bold-sartorial-statement replied to your text post

I'd reblog it.

27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? 

Hell no - humour is so important to me. My boyfriend and I joke around virtually every day.

35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore?                 

Hm, good question. Sometimes. I like the feel of pencil more than pen - the way a pencil feels when it’s pressing into the paper…idk there’s something satisfying about it. I used to write with an ink pen so….