nyokala:

give me all the deancas fic set in the fall. you know, there’s pumpkin carvings and like dean and cas going to a halloween party and dean is dressed as a cowboy and cas is dressed as himself b/c hey he actually feels like his human identity is still a costume, you know?

and idek, dean and cas are doing yardwork raking leaves (because hello it’s their thing, we know this) and they start kissing and end up making out in a bed of fallen leaves. leaves in their hair, all over their clothes.

and the first days of winter: new jackets and scarves and fingerless gloves and warm coffee and cocoa in mugs and the wind whipping castiel’s too-long hair, and dean’s red flushed cheeks. and layers and layers and layers, and peeling out of all those layers and snuggling in bed, cold feet and cold fingers. warm kisses.

and yeah. fall and early winter love ♥

(and not to forget dean cooking thanksgiving dinner for everyone, because goddamnit this year they’re going to do it right b/c they’re alive and that’s something to celebrate. and kevin and linda and charlie and garth gather around the table with sam, dean, and cas. and there’s five kinds of pie, and mash potato mountains, and gravy boat shenanigans and there’s cas attempting to stuff a turkey and there’s dean patting his overfull belly while they recover on the couch afterward, and cas resting his head on it while dean runs his fingers through his hair).

It fits.

whalepoop3:

“Castiel Winchester” Dean chirped in as he watched Cas fill out a driver’s licensing form. It was the first thing that popped into his mind and he didn’t take it back because, well it just sort’ve.. Fits.

“Castiel Winchester” Sam said as they threatened a group of demons. Sam didn’t even flinch as the name rolled off of his tongue. Dean smirked when the faces of the demons grew pale at the name.. It fits.

“Castiel Winchester” Cas said to the waitress asking what name should their food be taken under. No one ever questioned the name.. It fits.

“Castiel Winchester” Dean whispered, taking Cas’s breath away as Dean slipped on his mother’s ring onto the fallen angel’s finger. It fit.

dumplingdean:

imagine dean and cas going to college together and one night, dean is super drunk and his cheeks are all red and he just leans in towards cas and he grins and says “I’m gonna marry you one day, novak. mark my words.” 

and cas just rolls his eyes and he’s all “whatever, dean.” but his ears start to burn and he looks away, a little smile on his face. 

fast forward many years down the line, after they’ve dated and fallen in love and dean has proposed, they’re both standing at the altar, smiling at each other. 

butterflies float around cas’ stomach as he looks at dean and dean reaches for his hands.  “didn’t I tell you I would marry you?” dean whispers. 

castiel rolls his eyes but he smiles. 

unholyseraphs:

The Happiest Place on Earth

by unholyseraphs & illustrated by peanutbutterthenjelly​

​↳Castiel meets Dean in 2003 - a brash, young, and unconfident man in search of a tutor to help him pass his final classes before graduation in 2005. Their relationship develops fast and hard, but with Dean still in the closet, it can only end as tragically as it began. For ten years, Castiel has learned to live without Dean, but what happens when they happen to meet again in a bar? Can a chance meeting help them start where they left off or will they only be left with the ashes of once was? 

whiskey-jim:

Contrary to popular belief (read: what Dean thinks), Castiel is actually a morning person. 

You can’t tell it by the fact he remains curled up under the comforter as long as he can, communicating in grunts and moans until Dean drags the sheets off of him completely and forces him to get up. 

You can’t tell it by the fact he comes out of the bedroom with his hair still a ruffled mess and glaring at the smile Dean gives him as he hands Castiel his first of at least three cups of coffee. 

But he really is a morning person. 

He’s awake by the time the first rays of sunlight stream into his and Dean’s shared bedroom. He watches as they travel across the floor and to the bed, hitting against the freckles on Dean’s nose, casting shadows where his lashes reach over his cheeks and highlighting the blond of his hair. 

He’s awake to watch the rise and fall of Dean’s chest, rhythmic and calming, and listen to his light snores that he insists he doesn’t make. He traces every scar and blemish with his eyes and smiles gently at how they all come together to make Dean the man he is - the man Castiel loves more than anything. 

He’s awake to feel the brush of lips against his shoulder, the soft smile on Dean’s lips as he presses light kisses to the nape of his neck, humming softly and hugging Castiel closer to him. He hears Dean whisper, “Morning, angel,” in his ear, tender and loving like Castiel is the most precious thing Dean has ever known. 

He’s awake, but he remains still, eyes closed and feigning sleep because he’s not ready for Dean’s arms to pull away to get ready for the day, for Dean to get up and take his warmth with him and leave him alone in their bed. 

He pretends to not feel the smattering of kisses to his jaw and cheeks and shoulders, or the feather-light touch of fingers running up his arm and across his hip; pretends not to hear Dean coaxing him into wakefulness with Zeppelin lyrics and promises of coffee and bacon. 

Eventually, Dean gets up, leaving a final kiss to Castiel’s lips as he slips out of bed to put on the coffee and start making breakfast, and Castiel sighs, rolling over to Dean’s side of the bed and curling up with his pillow. He’s got at least another hour before Dean comes back in to finally pull him out of bed and run a hand through Castiel’s hair, kissing him again and telling him he’s got morning breath and teasing him about so not being a morning person. 

Castiel just smiles as Dean goes back to the kitchen whistling “Hey, Jude”, remaining in bed for another moment and looking out the window to the sun rising in the sky. 

He’s certainly a morning person, but Dean doesn’t need to know that yet. 

deancasheadcanons:

Castiel does not understand the fascination people tend to have with him.

As a brand new fifth grade teacher, he meets a lot of young and middle-aged moms, many of them single but most of them not—but single or not it doesn’t really make a difference. They still all relentlessly flirt with him.

Or at least that’s what he thinks is happening. He’s still not entirely sure, but the flirting authority in his life believes it to be true. In any case, these moms are very friendly to him.

The thing is, though, Castiel doesn’t care. He doesn’t necessarily mind it either, but he doesn’t really care for their flirtations. It doesn’t make him feel special or “hot” or really anything at all.

The only time the moms make Cas feel heat rise in his cheeks or pride swell in his chest is when they ask if he’s got a sweet wife back at home.

He politely evades the question, but he wishes for nothing more than to answer honestly. To shout it from the rooftops.

But not doing so turns out to be worth it.

He’s having a meeting with several of his students’ parents during the last week of school when suddenly he loses all of their attention (moms and dads both) to a disturbance at the door of his classroom.

“Sorry to interrupt, babe. Can I borrow him for two seconds?” he asks the parents.

Cas rolls his eyes. “Would you please excuse me?” he says to the room, but absolutely no one is looking at him.

He starts walking toward the door and feels a flutter of smugness run through him. Dean obviously just got off work and immediately came over here. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to reveal corded forearms, and his jeans are grease- and paint-stained and hugging his hips where he’s got his shirts tucked in. His hair is messy probably from having safety glasses pushed up into it all day, and there’s a speck of sawdust in his prominent stubble, a pencil tucked behind his ear, Klein tool pouch still hanging from his belt. He might as well have a flashing sign over his head that reads SEXY CARPENTER. KNOWS HOW TO USE A TOOL OR TWO.

Not that it’s even necessary at all, but Cas still runs his hand through Dean’s stubble and kisses him right on the lips right there in the doorway.

So he likes showing off. Sue him.

Dean’s got a goofy grin on his face when Cas pulls back, and he clears his throat shyly and darts his eyes around the classroom. “Um, sorry, everyone. Uh, just going to—talk to my husband for a couple minutes,” Dean stutters, and it’s perfect.

Cas takes Dean by the hand and yanks him into the hallway. He can hear the whispers among the parents in his classroom, but he tries not to smile too smugly.

“What was that about?” Dean asks, already knowing the answer.

Cas gets right in his personal space and runs a finger across his belt buckle. “I’ve been waiting all year to show you off.”

“Oh yeah? You think those moms will stop flirting with you and start asking about me?”

“Let’s hope so.”

When Cas comes back into the classroom a few minutes later, his hair’s a little more disheveled than it was before, and his lips are just a tad pinker.

Half of the moms are smiling knowingly at him, and the other half still have their mouths hanging open. A few of the dads just look impressed.

“Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?” Cas asks.

Nobody says anything for a minute, but then one of the more flirtatious mothers pipes up from the back, “That was your husband?”

deancasheadcanons:

Dean is sleepily watching pancake batter when he feels the handle of the oven digging into his skin. He scratches his belly and steps back a little, but no more than 10 seconds later it happens again.

With a frown, he looks down at himself and presses forward, watching his soft skin conform to the bar of the handle. He looks back up at the pancake he’s making and wonders if he should start cooking healthier crap. As if in response, his stomach grumbles in hunger.

He’s getting old, he knows that. And he’s slowed down significantly in the past couple of years. But he still eats like a pig, and apparently it’s starting to show over his waistband. It seems like a thing that should’ve bothered him before now. Sure, he’s noticed that his boxers feel tighter and that Cas bought him new clothes a few weeks ago, but he hasn’t actually thought about what that means. He hasn’t freaked out about it.

Well, until now. He feels panic coming on as he considers throwing out the pancake batter and skipping breakfast today and maybe searching online for a workout routine and he should go ahead and throw out all the crap in the fridge and go to a farmer’s market or something and–

“Mmm, smells delicious,” Cas interrupts his train of thought as he curls his arms around Dean’s midsection and hooks his chin on his shoulder. “Have you eaten any yet?”

“No,” Dean says quietly.

Cas rucks Dean’s t-shirt up and casually pinches his skin in both his hands. “Just pancakes today? You sure you don’t want eggs and bacon, too?”

Dean squirms and says “no” again.

Cas rubs soothing circles into his belly with one hand and holds his love handle with the other. He kisses Dean’s neck and pats his belly a few more times before stepping back and smacking his ass. “Well, in that case, let’s make sure we go all out.” Cas heads to the fridge and pulls out whipped cream and syrup and butter, and then he grabs chocolate chips and a couple of bananas from the pantry. “You can’t just have pancakes.”

Dean smiles and stares down at the pan. OK, so maybe there is a reason why he hasn’t freaked out.

moonstiel-archive:

Dean coming home really late one night and realizing that Cas has fallen asleep on the couch waiting up for him, so instead of continuing on to the bedroom Dean just grabs a blanket and pulls Cas on top of him and wraps him up, and falls asleep that way. And in the morning he wakes Cas up by pressing gentle kisses to his face, and Cas is so confused but pleased because he doesn’t even remember falling asleep but Dean is home and holding him close so that’s all that really matters. 

envydean:

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

“So what do you say?” Dean asks.

“This is without a doubt the stuidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” Cas replies. 

So that’s it, they set their plan in motion. They scramble up the stairs to Cas’ brothers’ bedroom with the bin bag full of feathers Dean had been collecting over the past two weeks, and those he bought from the craft store. Cas tails him with a bucket of slightly watered down PVA that Cas got from the garage. 

Dean stands on Michael’s desk chair to reach and put the bucket of glue above Michael and Gabriel’s room, balancing the bucket on the slightly ajar door and then pouring the feathers into an empty washing basket. 

Cas looks at his watch. “Dean, quick, Gabriel will be home any minute now!” He urges. 

“Chill, I got this. We got this. This is gonna be so good.” He tells him, grinning. Cas grins back and giggles. 

“We’ll hide away in my room until we hear him shout then we’ll get him with the feathers!” 

“Yes, come on.”

It’s five minutes later when Gabriel comes home.

“Hello!” He shouts through the house. Dean and Cas just giggle from their hiding spot in Cas’ bedroom. They’re stood by Cas’ door, shoulder to shoulder, ready to pounce.

Footsteps up the stairs. Dean rests his hand against the door handle and hands Cas the basket of feathers. “You can do the honours.” 

“AHHH!” Comes a shout from down the hallway.

“Now! Cas! Now!” Dean swings the door open and lets Cas run down the hall with the feathers. He chucks them unceremoniously at his older brother, laughing when he sees the white PVA dripping down his face, coating his hair and shoulders and looking highly unimpressed. The feathers stick to his hair and scatter the floor, Dean picks up the remaining feathers and throws them haphazardly at Gabriel watching as he scowls even more.

“CASTIEL!!” Gabriel yells even though they’re both right there. They run off quick and slam Cas’ bedroom door behind them and sit against it out of breath and in fits of laughter.

“Oh, that was good!”

“Did you see his face?” Cas asks.

“Pure shock, reckon that was good revenge for the fake snakes in your bed?”

“I think so!” Dean hold out a palmed hand.

“High five, dude.” But Cas ignores Dean’s hand and kisses him instead.

“Thanks, Dean.” Cas blushes, it’s not that they haven’t kissed before, it’s just that they’ve never kissed like that before, all quick and perfect and just there.

“What for?” 

“Helping me get revenge on my brother. There’s a reason we nickname him Loki around the house.” Dean laughs and throws his arm around Cas as they stay sat in front of the door, just in case Gabriel wants to get them back.

destieldrabblesdaily:

On his way to get some morning coffee, Castiel is somewhat baffled as his ears register a sound that unmistakably comes from the bunker’s kitchen. It’s the sound of singing. Dean’s singing.

It’s not like Castiel has never heard Dean sing; Dean often sings along with the radio when they’re in the car together, and he frequently sings in the shower or while doing the dishes. The remarkable thing is that whenever Dean sings in Castiel’s presence, it’s always awfully loud and off-key. Nothing like the warm, velvety tones that are echoing down the halls right now.

Castiel reaches the kitchen and hesitates in the doorway, afraid that Dean will stop singing if he interrupts. It’s a song Castiel doesn’t quite recognize, but he figures it’s classic rock.

The sight before him is one to behold; Dean’s making breakfast, still in his sweatpants and the shirt that he’s slept in. There’s some flour in his untamed hair, and he’s flipping over pancakes while singing his heart out. A pleasant shiver runs up Castiel’s spine as he listens to what Dean’s been keeping from him, and he smiles fondly.

When Dean makes a sudden turn he spots Castiel, then nearly drops the plate that he’d just picked up. He immediately falls silent.

“Dammit, Cas! You can’t sneak up on people like that!” He chastises, his face turning scarlet, green eyes bewildered. “You were still sleeping, thought I’d make you breakfast…”

“And you were going to make me miss out on your little private concert? As your partner shouldn’t I have gotten VIP tickets?” Castiel asks, teasingly lifting an eyebrow at Dean as he walks up to him. “You’ve never told me that you can actually sing.”

“Because I can’t sing.” Dean huffs, looking embarrassed but all the same welcoming the hug that Castiel initiates.

Castiel lightly rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder. Their chests are pressed together and Dean’s arms instinctively find their way around Castiel’s waist.

“I beg to differ. You have been misleading me all this time.” Castiel hums in his ear. “But if you sing some more, I will forgive you for that.” He offers, chastely kissing the side of Dean’s neck.

Castiel fully expects Dean to protest or simply refuse, and so he’s sincerely surprised when instead, Dean holds him just a little tighter and inhales deeply, then softly starts singing right into Castiel’s ear. The song is slower than the one he’d been singing before, and Castiel thinks he even recognizes the chorus. There’s a weak feeling in his stomach as he listens to the words.

‘And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple but, now that it’s done… I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words… How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world…’

It’s a mystery to Castiel how they end up slow dancing in the middle of the kitchen, or what he’s ever done to deserve all of this. All he knows as he buries his face against Dean shoulder to hide the tears of joy that are threatening to spill out, is that he has never felt happier in his long existence. The nasty smell of burnt pancakes in the background is a small price to pay…