#wincechesters

Wild by Castielslostwings

Under the Midnight Sun by NorthernSparrow

My gift for my partner @wincechesters [but it won’t let me tag you?!] as part of the @vldexchange 

Thank you so much for running this challenge; I had a blast <3 

Sheith || 6.6k || Rated Teen and Up || Summary: A dog steals a sandwich and the results are cosmic

of all the coffee joints in all the towns in all the world by wincechesters

Wordcount: 11,064

Rating: M

Summary: They meet in a coffee shop, though not exactly the way you’d expect. In fact, nothing about Dean Winchester is what Castiel expects, especially when he claims to hunt the supernatural. In spite of Dean’s outrageous claims and Castiel’s firm belief that he is either lying, insane, or in a constant state of intoxication, they wind up in a somewhat unorthodox relationship, and Castiel finds himself being forcefully thrown into a world of demons and vampires and all manner of things that go bump in the night.

love thy neighbor by wincechesters

Mó Dào Zǔ Shī

Length: 7,427 (complete)

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences  

Pairing: Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Wúxiàn

Author Summary: 

Lan Wangji’s new neighbor is obnoxiously loud, incredibly ridiculous, and a shameless flirt.

“When he finally emerges, his hair toweled dry and redressed in fresh jeans and a dry t-shirt, the Winchesters are already back in the kitchen, their raised voices filtering down the hallway to Castiel as he pads out of his room.”

Almost immediately after Castiel falls he starts to dream.

His dreams come in abstract shapes, triangles, squares, pentagons; a moving kaleidoscope flashing beneath his eyelids. At first they make no sense, only shapes, black and white, erratic just like his newly human mind overrun with emotion and new feeling.

And then one night he starts to dream in green. Same with the night after, and the night after that.

Then one night the shapes change into a grassy field that stretches out as far as he can see. High mountains loom in the distance, and the sun glares down overheard, casting golden rays onto the grass. The tall stalks wave in breeze and he starts wading through their rich forest green, fingers trailing against their smooth edges.

He wakes up aroused and less confused than he should have been. Cas remembers Freud, he knows what his fascination with the color means.

Dean lingers in his thoughts for days following, and it takes every ounce of strength he has in him not to pick up his pre-paid phone and dial the very same man who kicked him out of the Bunker five days earlier.

Instead he goes to sleep and dreams about ice cream. Mint first, sweet with a gentle cool on his lips. It makes his tongue tingle and sends chills rushing through his body. Pistachio comes next, darker green, a mix of salty and sweet, and filled with little pieces of nuts. Cas likes this one best, it’s sort of earthy, homey and part of him just wants to drown in it. He wakes up annoyed at his weakness and glares at his phone from across his makeshift bed. As if just his eyes alone could conjure up the object of his persistent fantasies.

The next night he starts to dream about steaming artichokes, guacamole, and almond stuffed olives. He is tempted to give up and just call Dean after that dream because shit is starting to get to get down right weird.

By some stroke of luck, or a miracle, God is still on his side and the following morning he finds a potential case in the newspaper giving him the perfect excuse to call Dean and let him know about the case. Even though he’s really pissed at Dean right now, and he’s finally getting onto good terms with Nora at gas-n-sip, the prospect of seeing Dean again kneads at him so strongly he’s ashamed of himself.

1. You like your coffee black, with just a sprinkle of sugar. No cream. Once you tried drinking a blend from India I found at the supermarket, but you told me that you preferred your coffee to have grits, thick and dark that coat the back of your throat when they go down. So I took the cup for myself and made you a pot of Folgers.

2. When you read, and are entranced by the words, your eyebrows scrunch together like the back of a caterpillar and you always rest your hand on your chin.

3. When you read you have a tendency to fall asleep and drool on the pages. I can’t tell you how many books in the Bunker’s library I’ve had to wipe drool off of or rip out ruined pages because of your spit. It’s a good thing I adore you.

4. You usually sleep on your back, it’s easier to defend yourself if you are attacked that way. But with me you sleep on your stomach, or curled up against my chest, breath warm on my neck. I like that you are comfortable with me. I know how hard it is for you to let yourself go.

5. The brief moments you do let yourself go are rare. I cherish them.

6. You always say my name when you come.

7. You are fascinated with my hands, all the things they can do, have done, and will do. I love when you kiss my fingertips.

8. You get this look of unfettered joy on your face whenever you cook for Sam and I. I don’t know if this joy is because you are happy doing something for us, or you simply enjoy the routine activity. I haven’t asked and I won’t, as long as you are doing something that makes you happy I don’t care the reason.

9. You love your brother with every fiber of your being; you love me with your entire soul. I often wonder how you manage to love the both of us and have any love left.

10. You love without reserve, and so do I. How could I not?

11. You only stay in hotels that cost less than $69 dollars a night. It was an inside joke between you and Sam for years until I finally understood.

12. You make a lot of jokes, some are funny and some really aren’t. I laugh at them all.

13. You hate cherry pie. I’m still shocked about this one.

14. You won’t eat apples but you will eat an entire apple pie if given the chance. I will never understand the difference, it’s all apples to me.

15. You love all Impalas before 1967, but hate all the ones that came after. “Copycats,” you called them. I can’t say I blame you.

16. You’re proud of Sam for graduating college this summer. You cried at the ceremony. I did too.

17. You love sacrilege and angels. I think that’s partly why you married me.

18. Sometime after Purgatory you told me you hated Bed & Breakfast places. “Too frilly, and too honeymoon-y,” is what you said. But somehow I managed to convince you to stay in one on our wedding night. I didn’t hear any complaints, so I am starting to doubt that you hate them as much as you say you do.

19. You cried the first time we had sex, burying your head in the pillow and hiding your tear-stained face from my eyes. The Mark burned on your arm, and I cradled your head in my hands. Later you told me it was the first time you had felt anything in over a year and I vowed to make sure you would never have to suffer again. I think I succeeded.

20. Tomorrow is our first anniversary and you are finally at peace. You are currently curled up in our bed, hands splayed wide and relaxed on the pillow, even in your sleep reaching for me.

dean winchester has had a good life. at twelve he saved his little brother sammy’s life when they were sledding on thin ice -- it cost dean his hearing in one ear but he never minded. worked at the ice cream shop, flirted with the girls who came in (lisa braeden always tried to catch his eye), grew up reading national geographic magazines cover to cover.

he always wanted to travel. he wanted to build -- cars, homes, families. he wanted to make people happy in concrete ways.

but then his dad died, and dean took over the family business -- Winchester Building & Loan. basically the only business in bedford falls that WASN’T controlled by crowley, the greediest, slimiest capitalist in the country. dean had a responsibility to carry on his family’s work. he gave his college money to his kid brother, who went on to be a lawyer and a war hero.

dean worked day and night, tirelessly, putting everyone else’s needs above his own. he never got to travel. he never got to go to college. but he got to build homes, a whole new housing development. he got to defy crowley and defy expectations, and it was a good life.

until. until uncle bobby misplaced $100,000. and suddenly everything came crashing down.

which brings us to this. dean winchester, standing on a bridge, trying to work up the courage to jump. he’s got a life insurance policy in his pocket that puts in writing what he already knows: he’s worth more dead than alive.

and then this grumpy guardian angel, castiel, shows up.

castiel is wearing a too-big trench coat, he talks like he’s from three centuries ago, and maybe he is. he doesn’t get any of dean’s pop culture references. but he’s patient, and he talks dean down from the bridge. wipes the blood from his lips-- “bar fight gone wrong,” dean says. cas has really, really blue eyes, but dean obviously doesn’t notice.

angel, second-class. hasn’t gotten his wings yet, he says.

“well, this job won’t help,” dean says. “i’m a lost cause.” he mutters something about “i wish i’d never been born,” and cas says, “okay.”

and there they are. in a bedford falls with a gaping hole in the middle of it, something missing that nobody remembers. dean winchester.

dean walks through the town, through his usual bars (he and cas get a drink together, and dean tries not to watch cas’s mouth on the edge of a shot glass). nobody remembers him, not even his best friends, victor and charlie.

winchester park, the housing development he built with his own hands, foundation up, doesn’t exist. in its place is a graveyard. in its place is sam winchester’s grave, sam winchester who died at the age of eight after falling through thin ice.

“You weren’t there to save him,” cas says, and dean shakes his head.

“no, that’s wrong. that can’t be-- i-- sam’s my brother. i’m meant to protect him. it’s my job.”

“sam never had a brother,” cas says. he looks at dean. he can’t understand why this human, this rough-edged, freckle-faced human, would want to kill himself. he’s flawed, but he’s good. kind. cas has spent so many millennia watching humans, and the last thirty years watching dean. humans are so special. and dean is the best of them all, in cas’s eyes.

he watched dean throw stones at an old house and make wishes on broken glass. he watched dean kiss girls, and boys. he watched dean fall in love, too many times, with too many people who never loved him back. and today, this night, he watched dean sit at a polished wood bar and pray, for the first time since he was a kid, pray for god to save him.

god isn’t here, but castiel is. dean would do anything for the people he loves; castiel is just trying to do the same.

in the end dean gets it, gets why he can’t kill himself. he sees the light in the world, in bedford falls. he sees that it was all worthwhile. and so he runs back to the bridge and this time, instead of looking at the water he looks at the sky, and he shouts at god, at the stars, “i want to live again!”

it starts snowing. his lip bleeds. he laughs until he cries. victor finds him on the bridge like that, takes him home, and--

there’s everyone in bedford falls, crowded into his old, broken-down home (he was so busy fixing other people’s homes he never had time for his own), wallets overflowing with money for him. money to help him, to save him. someone counts it all up to be $103,214.06

his mother cries. she starts singing auld lang syne and everyone joins in, and the room swells up with all this joy, all this christmas cheer, and dean can’t stop smiling.

but something’s missing. cas is missing. a bell rings, and dean thinks hey, maybe that’s cas finally getting his wings.

but it’s the bell over his door. because cas is standing there, windblown, snow on the shoulders of his trench coat. he’s out of breath and dean shoves through the crowd to get to him.

“your wings?” dean says.

“didn’t need them.”

“but you--”

“i fell.”

“you--”

“i don’t need immortality. i don’t want my wings. i just want you. i want a human life, with you.”

people are singing christmas carols, in the street and in dean’s home. his pulse is rushing, face flushing. he says, “cas. i.”

“i want to be here, with you, in this wonderful life.”