For Suptober // Destiel & Saileen fluff // 365 words // M
Sam trod as lightly as he could on the stairs down from the garage, but the bunker sounded deserted. Usually, he was the only one up this early in the a.m.âif he was lucky, everyone would still be asleep, and he could hurry into his room and avoid the walk of shame, and the teasing that would come with it.
Not that he was ashamed, of course. His date with Eileen had been a lot of funâthey didn't have a lot of dinner options in Lebanon, but they'd gone a little further afield to a great pizza place he and Dean often ordered from.
Even better had been the night they'd spent in Eileen's motel room, worshipping each other's bodiesâŚbut he needed to get back into his room first before he started dwelling on that.
Perhaps he would just grab a drink before he headed to his room. The light was on in the kitchen, but that was nothing newâSam was always turning lights off around here, since Dean tended to leave them all on. As he got closer, he heard a muffled laugh, a plate clinking. Someone was awake, after all? A murmured voiceâthat was definitely Dean. Had he brought someone here?
Rather than walking into the kitchen, he peeked around the door and nearly gasped aloud.
Dean was sitting on the edge of the table, looking sleep-rumpled in sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, while Castiel stood between his spread legs, fully clothed, trenchcoat and all. As Sam watched, Cas picked up a strawberry from a plate of what looked like pancakes on the table, and with one hand on Deanâs cheek, placed the berry into Deanâs mouth. Dean hummed his appreciation, and Cas leaned down to kiss Deanâs smiling mouth.
Sam leapt back around the corner, suddenly wishing he hadnât looked. He did not need to see his brother and his best friend making out, nuh uh.
He grinned to himself as he headed off towards his room, though. He was happy for them, for finally working out whatever was between them. He just needed to get a solid door behind him, and quickly, before they started getting too gross.
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Dean loves coffee. Needs coffee. At this point, half of his blood is purely coffee, and thatâs fine.
What Dean hates, though, is bad coffee. Bitter, watery, not enough caffeine, you name it, he hates it.
Cas knows this. He stays in the bunker pretty much all the time now, and has access to the kitchen. So, one day he decides to order a set of five different coffee syrups. He picks it up at the gas station in town he had it shipped to. Being friendly with the owners had its perks to help keep the surprise a secret.Â
Day 1: Vanilla
Cas hears the pit-pat of naked feet and smiles. He already made Deanâs coffee. Itâs sitting fresh and steaming in a Batman mug on the counter. Cas reaches into his pocket to grab the tiny bottle of syrup. He has carefully read the âTips for your tasty coffee experience!â sticker on the package, and puts three thick drops of syrup in the mug. He stirs and waits.
Deanâs wearing soft flannel pajamas and his robe. He mumbles a greeting to Cas and does a double take at the mug sitting on the counter.
âDid you make coffee?â he asks and Cas nods. âUh, thanks.â
Dean sits down with his drink and takes a big sip. He double takes again.
âThis tastes sweet,â he says. Cas nods again. âHuh.â
Day 2: White chocolate
Cas brews coffee, pours it into a âWorldâs Okayest Brotherâ mug (Samâs birthday gift for Dean), pulls the syrup bottle out of his coat pocket, and puts three thick drops of syrup in the cup. He stirs and waits.
Deanâs not wearing pants but his robe, tied at the waist. He smiles softly at Cas when he sees the cup. âNew tradition?â he asks. Cas nods.
Dean takes a sip and raises his brows. âThis is good,â he says and raises the cup again. Cas beams at him.
Day 3: Raspberry
Three drops of syrup, stir, wait.
Deanâs in jeans, an old shirt, and a green flannel when he comes into the kitchen and heads straight for the cup on the counter. He gulps it down greedily, then turns to Cas and says, âDidnât sleep because of research. We got a case. Letâs go.â
Dean stops and thinks for a moment.
âSweet, but not my favorite. Still liked it though,â he says. âI could get used to starting my mornings with this.â
Cas tilts his head. âIf you wanted me to make you coffee, you should have just asked. No sleep means lots of preparation time.â He smiles at Dean.
âWasnât talking âbout the coffee,â Dean says and leaves the kitchen.
Day 4: Caramel
Syrup, stir, wait.
Hunting wendigos is easy but exhausting. Samâs snoring, Deanâs just waking up. Cas sits on a chair in the kitchenette flipping through the Gideon bible and when Dean pads over in a shirt and blue boxer shorts, Cas taps the chair next to him with his foot. Dean sits down with his coffee. He looks at Cas, takes a sip, then looks at Cas again.
Deanâs hair is illuminated by early morning sunshine, giving him an angelic appearance.
Appropriate, Cas thinks, for a man so radiant and beautiful.
Deanâs foot nudges Casâ, and Cas nudges back. They smile at each other.
Day 5: ?
One of the bottles is a mystery flavor. Cas risks it. He adds the syrup, stirs, leans against the counter, and waits.Â
Dean comes into the kitchen wearing soft flannel pants and the Metallica shirt Cas got him for Christmas. Thereâs a pillow crease imprinted on his left cheek, and Cas wants to run his fingers over it.
He offers the coffee cup to Dean, who smiles softly at Cas before taking it. They stand too close together.
Dean takes a long sip, looks down into the cup and nods.
âIt didnât say the flavor on the bottle,â Cas says. âWhat is it?â
Dean looks at him. Steps closer. Cas feels the warmth radiating from his body. He counts the freckles on Deanâs nose while Dean looks at him. Searches his eyes. Cas isnât sure what heâs looking for.Â
Castiel needs to get out of the bunker for a bit. Angels weren't meant to live underground.
This is a little fic that fills in the conversation that Dean and Cas had leading up to the beginning of the 14x16 episode "Don't go into the Woodsâ and why Castiel needed to get out of the bunker.
2k words - AO3
Castiel lies relaxed against a pillow propped on the headboard, listening to Dean softly snoring at his side. The hunterâs mind is quiet in sleep, relaxed, and all his own now that Michael is gone. Castiel canât dream walk anymore or feel Deanâs mind as strongly as he used to, his powers greatly waned and damaged over the years. But when Dean is asleep with his guard down, he is able to at least enjoy the sense of peace that Dean now feels with Jack alive and healthy, Sam recovering from the loss of their hunter friends, and Castiel here in the bunker with him. Castiel made his choice. He chose the Winchesters over his angel family, over his mission, over his father and he doesnât regret it for a moment.
Especially in moments like these with Dean soft and warm against his side. Itâs so beautiful it would almost be worth it to -
He feels the hunter stir, coming out of his sleep state and smiles to himself as Dean rolls to his side and snakes his arm across Castielâs middle. He nuzzles into Castielâs arm until he lifts it so Dean can rest his head on his shoulder.
âMorninâ,â Dean mumbles as he places as soft kiss to Castielâs neck.
âGood morning, Dean,â he answers with a returning kiss to Deanâs forehead.
Itâs lovely, what theyâve finally figured out between them. This is still new, spending most every night in Deanâs bed, reading or watching TV as the hunter sleeps next to him. It has taken years to get to this point, with a decade of ups and downs, hits and misses, and back and forth between them. Years ago, during the apocalypse that wasnât, it all started. But back then it was an occasional fuck, usually after a hunt when Dean just needed someone strong to make it all go away, a physical release of stress, energy, and adrenaline. Dean would block most feelings out, well, as much as he could from an angel who back then could pick up feelings and longing with his strong grace. It was hurried and neither of them stayed afterward. And over the years they seesawed between ignoring this thing between them and crashing back into each other after each death, near death, or possession. Castiel never thought it would go beyond that.
But gradually things changed. Castiel was granted a second chance at life after Lucifer killed him. Dean managed to get Michael out of his mind. And Cas decided to stay. Since he has taken up residence in the bunker, he and Dean have felt more connected, permanent. Even when they are apart, they stay in touch, calling just to talk or text each other with little details of their lives. Dean doesnât even seem to mind his use of emojis anymore.
However, he is still a little angry at Dean for planning to use the MaâLek box without telling him. He understood what Dean told him later, that he just couldnât bring himself to tell him or heâd probably never be able to do it. Maybe this sadness and anger is a good thing, it keeps Castiel from crossing that invisible line he has drawn in his heart that he knows he canât cross. If he lets his guard down and lets himself be truly happy he knows this can all be torn from him in the blink of an eye and heâll be thrown back into the empty, leaving Dean, and Sam and Jack forever. Itâs for that reason, Castiel has made a decision. He has to leave the bunker, if for a short while because this thing between he and Dean, sometimes it gets too intense, too close to love and permanence and happiness, all things he knows he canât allow himself.
âIâm leaving,â he tells Dean with no preamble and feels the man beside him go from soft to rigid, sitting up as quick as his lightning fast reflexes let him.
âYouâre what?â Dean growls.
Castiel looks at him and tilts his head, squinting while he takes in and processes Deanâs reaction. The hurt and confusion on his face reminds Castiel of how bad he still is at this sometimes.
âItâs not permanent, Dean,â he explains. âI just need⌠a break from being underground.â Itâs not a total lie. The bunker does become a bit claustrophobic for him at times. Angels werenât meant to live underground.
âWhat do you mean?â Dean asks, a suspicious affect to his voice.
Castiel puts his hand over Deans, and the hunter lets him. âI mean that Iâm an angel. I know my wings are broken now, but I was born with the stars, brought into creation as my father was forming this universe. We angels had a hand in bringing to life all of his creations with the light and elements of the stars. Being underground without windows, with processed air and artificial light⌠sometimes I just need a break from it.â
Dean blinks at him, processing his words for a moment before he nods and turns his hand over to interlace their fingers.
âI get it, man. Forty years in the pits of hell? Needing a little sunlight is definitely something I get.â
âI promise Iâll be back. I want to be here⌠with you, with my family.â
And that gets a smile. Dean leans forward onto his free hand and his knees, crawling over Castiel, stopping a hairâs breath away from his lips before he whispers, âyour family,â and goes in for a kiss. Itâs sweet and sentimental and deepens when Dean puts his hand on his neck to tilt his head. They stay like that for several minutes, just slowly kissing and touching one another before Dean pulls back and repositions himself back in the crook of Castielâs side, arm and leg draped over the angel protectively.
âTell me,â he breathes contentedly.
âTell you what?â Castiel asks.
âTell me what it was like. I want to understand.â
Castiel thinks for a moment about how to share the experience of being a wavelength of celestial intent. Itâs not something a human mind can truly comprehend so he decides to describe it as best he can.
âMy wings, they arenât like a birds wings that rely on air and lift to travel in the physical realm. My wings were almost like transmitters, used to collect and control photons and energy on a quantum level. Â For angel teleportation, our wings condense and convert the matter of our vessels into energy, which is transported beyond the speed of light using-â
âBlah, blah, blah, science gobbledygook, blah, blah,â Dean interrupts. âWhat a nerd. No, man, I donât care how it works. Tell me how it felt.â
Oh, Castiel thinks and recalls his favorite memories.
âWell, I was created at the beginning of this universe, just after, as humans call it, the big bang. Before that it was just my father and the archangels and the Darkness. Once they captured and contained her, God created a new universe and all of the angels to protect it. I watched as nothing became everything with one touch. As the chaos of light and energy and elements began grouping together into swirling galaxies, we angels absorbed that early power, contained a bit of it into our wings and our grace. I remember my garrison forming and caring for the oceans when the first fish crawled out onto the shore.â
âJesus,â Dean breathes, âsometimes I forget youâre old as fuck.â
Castiel chuckles, âYes, I suppose I am, although I often still feel very inexperienced among humans.â
âGonna tell you a secret, Cas, most humans are shit at humaning too. Everyoneâs just white knuckling it through as best we can. Youâre doing fine.â
âThank you, Dean.â
âSo, old man, is that the kind of stuff you miss being down here in the bunker?â
Although Castiel would love to tell Dean that there is no time or place in this universe that he would rather be than exactly where he is at this moment with Dean in his arms, he stops himself. He knows he has to make this about being cooped up in the bunker and not about getting close enough to happiness that the entity from the Empty will tear it from his grip. No, even this close, he needs to keep a protective wall up to stay with Dean as long as possible.
âI suppose. I used to like to fly to quiet places where I could think, the top of a mountain, or a secluded bench surrounded by spring flowers in a forest in Canada, or the peaceful heaven of one of the souls resting there. I would watch humans after a tragedy and see how they helped one another, strangers and family alike. And when I truly need to feel closer to my father, I would fly though the tail of a comet or watch a new star being born.â
Dean gets quiet for a little while, his free hand gently tracing nonsense patterns on Castielâs shoulder.
âSo, uh,â Dean finally speaks up, âI know itâs not exactly riding a comet or perching on a mountaintop, but what if, when you get back, we set you up a spot on the roof? I was thinking a park bench, some plants, hell, maybe a beehive? I donât know, maybe itâs stupid, but you wouldnât have to leave and you could get away from me for a while with a space of our own up there.â Dean stiffens, âUh, forget I mentioned it.â
Castiel stops him with a finger under his chin, lifting it gently so their eyes meet.
âDean, itâs a perfect idea. And I would never leave the bunker to get away from you.â He wants to say it. He wants to tell Dean how much he is in love with him and how being here with him would be the one thing that would make him truly happy. But he doesnât. Itâs almost like saying it out loud will make it true enough for the entity to hear.
Dean smiles. âThen itâs settled. When you get back, weâre making a rooftop cabana.â
âA cabana, huh? Will there be drinks with little umbrellas?â
âFuck no! Too Crowley-esque. But thereâll be beer, burgers, and pie.â
âI donât eat, Dean. Whatâs in it for me?â
âOh, I know what youâre willing to eat,â Dean says with a waggle of his eyebrows, âand this fine ass is definitely on the table.â
Castiel kisses him through a smile, âThen Iâll be sure to return within the week.â
âYou better, man. And weâll talk every day.â
âOf course.â
They spend another hour in bed, making out and sharing hand jobs, âfor the roadâ as Dean says.
Dean kisses him soundly as he stands by the bedroom door, Castiel dressed again in his usual clothing and Dean in his robe. Itâs with promises of being safe and calling that he says goodbye to Dean and heads up the stairs to the bunkerâs garage.
He rests his hands on the steering wheel for a long time before turning the engine over. It gets harder and harder to leave Deanâs side now that they are like this. He knows heâs playing with fire, dancing very close to the edge of the flame and it could be any minute that he gets just close enough to draw the attention of the Emptyâs guardian who will take him away from Dean forever.
Castiel turns the engine over and pulls out of the garage, heading north towards that quiet woods in Canada where he will once again pray for the guidance of a father who isnât listening from the secluded park bench surrounded by thawing snow and early spring flowers.
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More Mustard!Verse, (where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts) because I love it so.Â
Sam gets Cas stoned for the first time. Enjoy!Â
Dean can smell the weed the moment he steps out of his room. The skunky, earthy aroma is familiar, even if itâs been years since heâs smoked. What he doesnât understand is why the bunker smells like a Led Zeppelin concert and he makes it his mission to find out.
It doesnât take long before he finds himself in front of one of the spare rooms, wisps of smoke coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. He stands and listens, hearing high-pitched giggles and suddenly, two voices yelling out, âWhoa!â followed by more giggling. He rolls his eyes and pushes his way into the room.
Dean has seen a lot in his thirty-eight years but this is a new one. Through the thick gray smoke, he sees Sam, head hanging off the bed, laughing so hard heâs silent. His laptop has a YouTube video on and Dean barely spares it a glance, his attention drawn down. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, his Cas, is rolling on the floor, tears streaming from his blue eyes which just so happen to be bloodshot too.
âWhat the fuck?â The giggling stops. âSeriously, Sam? You got him stoned?â
The two idiots in front of him start laughing again. Sam is the first to regain his ability to talk.
âDean! Dean!â
giggle
âDeaaaaan. You need to watch this!â Sam points at his laptop and with another roll of his eyes, Dean looks at the screen.
âWhat the hell am I looking at?â
A squeak comes from the floor before Cas speaks. âItâs the hydraulic press channel, Dean. Itâs quite clever.â
giggle
âThere is a very funny Finnish man who crushes whatever he wants with his hydraulic press.â
giggle
âThe bowling ball exploded, Dean! It just exploded!â
He tries not toâholy shit, does he tryâbut a laugh escapes him. Fuck if Cas stoned and giggling on the floor isnât the most hilarious and fucking adorable thing heâs ever seen.
Dean looks around the room and finally sees the pipe, a monster of a thing, sitting on the floor beside Cas. Thereâs a small, plastic container next to it with a white label and Dean picks it up, finding the weed inside. âDeath Starâ is written on the sticker and Dean wonders when buying weed got so⌠clinical. When he was a teenager, this shit came in plastic baggies.
He held it out to Sam, eyebrow raised. âCare to explain, Cheech?â
Sam shrugged. âHelps me sleep. Thereâs a great dispensary in town, the girls there are nice. And hot.â
âOh, right. Hot stoners. Sounds like your type.â
Cas explodes with giggles. âItâs because you have terrible taste in women, Sam.â
Sam rolls his eyes and grabs the pipe, taking another hit. âAnd you have terrible taste in men, Cas.â He blows the white smoke out with a wicked grin. Cas just laughs.
âFuck you, Sammy.â Dean tucks the container into his pocket. âNow Iâm not going to bring you any snacks.â He gives Cas a wink and heads for the kitchen.
Dean packs a bag of snack foods: gummy bears (of fucking course), beef jerky, some popcorn, a six pack of beer, and a bag of spinach (because fuck you, Sam). He tucks in the hummus he made the day before with some crackers, knowing Cas is currently obsessed with the stuff. He kept buying it when they were at the store but Dean found a recipe online and insisted on making it fresh for him. This batch was lemon garlic, and heâs excited to see what Cas thinks. Â
He gets back to the room and opens beers for all of them before settling on the floor next to Cas, who slides over and rests his head in Deanâs lap.
âHeya, sunshine.â Dean leans down and kisses Casâ forehead. âHaving fun?â
Cas hums in agreement and turns his head to press his own kiss to Deanâs stomach. Dean laughs and reaches for the pipe, adding another pinch of weed to it before taking his first hit. He lets the pipe rest on Casâ head in between tokes and soon he feels loose and happy, unable to keep the smile from his face. Cas swipes at him and Dean puts the pipe down on the floor, reaching over to the bag of food to bring out the snacks.
He presents the hummus to Cas who smiles wide and digs a cracker out of the box to try it. If the lemon flavored kisses he gets are any indication, Cas likes it.
The bag of spinach hits him in the back of the head and heâs laughingâwhy is that so funny? Either way, it is, and Dean laughs harder when Cas tries to throw the bag back at Sam but it misses and flies past him instead.
Since his spinach is across the room, Sam leans down and steals the hummus and Dean kisses the pout off Casâ face. So what if Dean kisses Cas a little too long, the feeling of their tongues sliding together and the heat from Casâ mouth heightened, thanks to their extra curricular activities.
A pillow smacking against their heads breaks them apart and Dean throws his cock blocking brother a half-hearted glare before crawling up on the bed and pulling the laptop towards him. He brings up Netflix and queues a movie before he pulls Cas up to join him.
They situate themselves at the head of the bed, Cas wrapped under Deanâs arm and Sam sitting cross legged, dipping beef jerky into the hummus. Cas is eating the gummy bears, occasionally feeding them to Dean (the red ones are his favorite) and they all smile when Super Troopers plays on the screen.
Itâs the scene where the patrolmen have the car of stoners pulled over that has them all dyingââthese snozzberries taste like snozzberries!ââand Dean has to stop and catch his breath, looking at his brother and his angel smiling, for once; and he feels grateful. Despite the metric tons of bullshit theyâve endured, theyâre together, theyâre happy, and thereâs nothing in this world that can take this moment from them.
Cas was usually grumpy in the mornings, but nothing could compare it to that morning. The one where Cas shuffled into the kitchen, nose red and tissues spilling out of his hands.
âI hate everything.â He grumbled.
âGood morning to you too, sunshine.â Dean quipped from behind his coffee cup.
In return, Dean only received a glare that could smite a hundred people â if Cas were still an angel anyway.
Cas had caught a cold and had been suffering for the past few days but today seemed to be the peak of it.
âEverything hurts, Dean. Is being human supposed to hurt this much?â Dean pursed his lips at Castielâs words.
No doubt he was achy and out of breath, sore-nosed and sniffly, Dean wasnât fond on the common cold either.
âItâs just a cold, Cas. Itâll clear up soon.â Dean told him, he filled the kettle and set it to boil before pulling out a cold and flu drink that was sure to help relive him of some of his symptoms.
Soon enough water was boiled and the smell of eucalyptus and blackcurrant filled the small kitchen. He set the steaming mug in front of Castiel and squeezed his shoulder.
âHere, drink this. Youâll you feel better.â He pressed a kiss to Castielâs temple making a small smile form on Castielâs lips as he took a tentative sip and breathed in the steam.
âThank you, Dean.â
Castiel drained his cold and flu drink as soon as it was deemed cool enough to be drinkable and smiled. Already he could breathe better through his nose and wasnât sneezing every five seconds. His was still achy and felt cold despite the warm clothing he had on.
âGo sit on the couch, weâll watch a movie.â Dean told him, holding out his hand for Cas to take.
Cas nodded and stood up, letting himself be led by Dean wards their movie room and landed heavily on the couch, joints aching until he found a suitable position.
Dean joined him again moments later, large blanket in hand and an orange.
âDonât tell Sam, but this blanket is the best thing in this bunker â apart from you of course.â
Castiel blushed a little and Dean sat down on the couch, pulling Cas against him and curling the blanket around them.
The movie started, some old western, and Castiel sighed into Deanâs chest. Deanâs arm tightened around him and they both settled into the film.
Despite still being morning, Cas dropped off to sleep again and Dean could hear Casâ breath rattle a little in his chest. He was warming up though, which was a good thing. It wasnât the best start into being human but heâd get Cas through his cold and hopefully back on his feet and possibly hunting again soon before they knew it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
NOW COMPLETEÂ
Chapters: 13/13
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Mia Vallens, Gabriel (Supernatural)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Hunter Dean Winchester, Mer Castiel, Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Discussed Forced Prostitution - None Shown, A Dark Premise But A Fluffy Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Monster Brothel, Reversed Hell Rescue Tropes, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel, Magic, sam winchester is a good brother, Ocean themes, Romance, Slow Burn, Protective Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Goes to Therapy, Castiel Has PTSD, Friends to Lovers, Trust Issues, overcoming differences, Communication, and yet more fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, The Very Happiest of Endings, Skippable Smut - Can Be Read as Teen, Fire, Captivity
Summary:
To tie up the loose ends of a hunt, Dean is forced to go undercover and visit Brock Pleasure Ranch, a horrifying establishment that markets its inhabitants to people with âmonstrousâ tastes.
It should have been a simple thing, to persuade a mer to give him a few scales for a spell. All part of the usual Winchester byline: saving people, hunting things.
But Castiel is far less of a âthingâ than Dean expected. He might not be human, but heâs definitely a person.
