An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I posted the last chapter in my fic series for bb!verse.

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I posted the last chapter in my fic series for bb!verse.

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Real Life Musings: When Shall We Three Meet Again? (Reader meets SPNBB!VerseâŠ.kinda sorta)
(Dean x Reader if you tilt sideways - Sprinkles of Destiel if you stand on your head.)
A/N:  Iâm sorry.  I wasnât going to go here. askspnbbverse (late to the party as the blog is no longer updated) has killed me, I am dead, and also all my teeth fell out because itâs so GOD DAMN ADORABLE. GO LOOK AT IT! Quick background - Cas/Gabe/Balthazar are turned into tiny fledgling toddlers by some witches. Itâs ridiculously ridiculous. Sam/Dean/Bobby are left to care for them while they work on breaking said curse. Cas is literally the cutest thing on the planet during this time. Some fluff, some feels.
Youâve heard the whispers. Who hasnât? Hunters are notorious gossips. So when you find yourself out for a drink with Castiel and Dean, you work up the courage to ask about said rumors. Well, to be technical the courage comes from a little vodka.
âSo.â
Dean slants his eyes. âKid, this better be good. Itâs been a long day. Iâm not here to chat, Iâm just here to drink and forget.â
Cas, bless him, looks a little more encouraging. âI have found that âSoâ is an excellent conversation starter. Go on.â
âSo. I heard a small little rumor. About the two of you.â
Dean groans.  "Nope.  Nope Nope. We share aâŠwhat do you call it, dude?â Â
Cas leans closer. âProfound bond.â
âYes. A profound bond but we ainât-â
âWhoa whoa! Â Calm down. I could care less if you two bump uglies or not. This has to do with you, Cas, two other angels and some witches.â
Dean visibly pales, his freckles standing out. Cas puts down his rocks glass with a clatter. Oh shiiiit. Â You figured theyâd laugh, just deny it. Â Dean looks around frantically. âWho told you? Â Who knows about this?â Â
You squeal, positively delighted. âOh my god so itâs TRUE! Â I canât even believe it. Are there photographs? Please tell me there are. I need to see these adorable baby angels.â
Dean turns to Cas. âWipe her memory immediately.â Â
Cas shakes his head. âI canât do that, Dean. Sheâs our friend.â
âWell then Iâm getting her drunk enough to forget this all happened.â
When you wake up the next morning the details of the previous evening are hazy, muddled by your wicked hangover, but theyâre still there. Dean dodged your barrage of questions all night.  Cas would only tell you that things were âMuch largerâ from that perspective and he really liked his trench coat. Â
Stumbling into the kitchen, Samâs already there making breakfast. He takes one look at you, hair standing in a poof on the side of your head and a gigantic bottle of ibuprofen at your side, and slides a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes in front of you. Â
âRough night?â
âThe worst. Your brother can really deliver when he gets it in his head to get someone turnt, that dick.â
Sam laughs. âOh jesus. Yep, been there.â Â He clears his throat. âI might have something that will make your hangover slightly better.â
âOh god Sam, if itâs hair of the dog, Iâm not interested. It doesnât work. I just feel worse. I need a greasy tuna melt and fries.â Â
His phone dangles in front of you. âHow about some requested incriminating photos?â
Your head snaps up, hands grabbing desperately for the phone. âOh. My. God. Sam. Please tell me youâre not jerking me around.â Â
He slides into the seat next to you. âDean and Bobby never wanted any pictures taken. Balthazar and Gabriel ganged up to try to break my phone. But I couldnât resist sneaking some shots in. It was literally about as cute and as horrible as you could ever imagine.â
Your finger starts swiping eagerly. Â
Thereâs a sleepy eyed Cas, so tiny and itty bitty your heart seizes for a moment, dragging his trench behind him, thumb jammed in his mouth. His eyes are so huge and frigginâ blue he basically looks like a chibi anime character come to life. Â
âHe has little wings!â you breathe, and Sam rolls his eyes.Â
âThey couldnât fly, so the wings were basically like giant feather dusters, collecting dust and dirt and food. Bath time was a disaster.â
Gabriel and Balthazar, playing catch with Bobby, little trucker hats perched on their heads. They looked like absolute little shits - some things didnât change. Â
All three babies, nested together and napping in a pile of dirty laundry. Youâre absolutely incredulous at the sheer adorable-ness, it makes your chest hurt a little. âHow the hell did you guys get anything accomplished?â
âIt was rough. Dean was the worst.  I donât think he ever put Cas down. Out of everyone, Cas was especiallyâŠâ  Sam pauses, searching for the right word. âSnuggly.â Â
To punctuate, the next photo is Dean asleep on the couch, all three of the angels sleeping with him. Cas is clutched to his chest, Deanâs hands in his feathery black wings. Balthazar and Gabriel on each side. Â
Everythingâs gone a little blurry, and you look away and blink rapidly.  Sam takes the phone back. âThatâs all I could get.â He looks a little wistful.  âAs frustrating as the spell was, it was something awful when they all went back to being dickbag angels.  It was really hard on all of us, but especially for Dean. He and CasâŠ.yeah.â  You sniffle and pretend to be really interested in your coffee cup.Â
âHow you feelinâ today, sunshine?â Â Deanâs robe flaps around his knees as he walks over to the coffee maker. Â You and Sam must be wearing identical expressions as you both snap your gaze up to look at him and he freezes. âWhat the hell is wrong with you guys? Â Someone die or something?â
When youâre up out of the chair and sandwiching him in a crushing hug in 2.2 seconds, he turns to Sam with wide eyes. âSammy what the hell?! Did you do something?âÂ
Sam looks apologetic.  âI uhâŠthere may have been some cursed angel photos.â  He slips back down the hallway, leaving Dean shaking his head. Â
When Sam pokes his head back in a few minutes later youâre still wrapped in Deanâs arms, his hands tangled in your hair.
Later that week Sam catches Dean red handed, stealthily trying to heist his phone. âGive it back, dude. Check the drawer in your bedside table.â
Stuffed in the far reaches of the drawer is a photo, one that you didnât see - little Cas perched on Deanâs shoulders, tiny hands fisted in his hair with a gummy grin. Â
Dean smiles and tucks it behind the photo of Mary, mostly hidden, but he still knows itâs there.Â
My first SPN fic, written for vickjawn's spnbb!verse.