d e s t i n y ;
we ripped up the ending... and rules... and destiny... leaving nothing but freedom and choice.
Revolution (AO3)
Summary: It seems that even love cannot conquer a class divide, but maybe there’s a little more to it than that? 1.8k
Written for the @writersofdestiel ‘Valentine’s Fic Exchange 2020′, for the wonderful @thunderthighsmish, who requested a historical AU.
The pounding on the oak door was sudden, loud, and showing no signs of stopping. The unrest within the city had left all of the aristocracy and nobility within Paris feeling uneasy, and the abrupt banging on the door only further served to leave an unsettled feeling in the stomachs of the residents of this particular household.
Vicomte Castiel Novak exchanged equally distressed looks with his parents, before abandoning his dinner to answer the insistent knocking. He stopped their housekeeper, Ellen, as she made for the door, instead sending her back to her duties in the kitchen.
As he pulled open the door, Castiel’s heart skipped a beat as Dean stood before him. It had been almost a year since he’d last seen his childhood best friend and first love, and for a moment nothing but happiness enveloped him. He hadn’t changed much at all, really. Same green eyes, same countless freckles, same dirt smudges across his cheek—
Right. The reason Castiel hadn’t seen Dean in nearly a year came flooding back and his eyes widened as he glanced backwards into the house, to make sure his parents hadn’t seen him. After their fight on Valentine’s Day, after Dean had pushed him away, Castiel’s parents had vowed to have Dean arrested if he ever came near their family home again.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to crowd Dean backwards so he could close the door behind them. Despite being recognised as an adult, Castiel was all too aware of what his parents thought of Dean, and had no intention of letting them see him.
“They’re coming.” Dean’s face was defiant under all the dirt, but there was something very akin to fear in his eyes.
Morning Sunshine (AO3)
Summary: Castiel visits Morning Sunshine bakery every day before work. 6.2k
Written for the Writers of Destiel ‘Writer’s Choice’ Bingo for the prompt ‘Bakery AU’.
Many many thanks to @fangirlingtodeath513 and the Writers of Destiel discord for supporting me through this fic.
FRIDAY
Castiel pushed open the door to Morning Sunshine Bakery with only a mild amount of hesitation. His concern was pushed aside to be momentarily forgotten as warmth washed over him from the interior. The scene of sugary sweetness, fresh pastries, and freshly-brewed coffee assaulted his senses and Castiel inhaled deeply.
For a moment, it was heavenly. And then he remembered why he’d been reluctant to open the door in the first place.
“Dean,” the redhead behind the counter bellowed. “Your favourite customer is here!”
Castiel tried to signal for Charlie to stop, but it was too late. There was the sound of clattering out the back and then the source of Castiel’s daily irritation burst through the door from the kitchens. Great. The baker was seemingly oblivious to the flour that was smeared all up his cheek, but it did nothing to hide how attractive he was.
Sighing, Castiel cut his losses. “Good morning. A medium black coffee and—
Iridescent (AO3)
Summary: Castiel experiences life through colours. 1.1k
Written for the Writers of Destiel ‘Writer’s Choice’ Bingo for the prompt ‘Watercolour’.
Thanks to @envydean for being an amazing beta and helping me brainstorm!
Castiel experienced life through colours.
It was somewhat different to synesthesia, where colours could be associated with people or objects. No, there was a certain amount of detached empathy in Castiel’s world spectrum. The letter ‘S’ didn’t come with an association of navy blue, nor any other colour for that matter. The colours were emotions.
But not his own.
People actively changed colour depending on their primary emotion. Castiel could walk down the street and see a woman change from a vivid cerulean to a muted tangerine and back again as she passed by a particularly persistent panhandler, or a man whose entire silhouette lit up golden yellow when he received a call from his fiancee. The colours were everywhere, often as fleeting as the emotions they represented, and Castiel was enthralled by it all.
It was beautiful and fascinating, and no two colours were ever the same at any time. He supposed it all came down to the experience of the individual, how heightened they felt that particular emotion and what was causing it. It had taken him a long time to understand that there were people behind the colours, identities that could not be summed up by the level of wrath or excitement they were feeling that day. If he focused hard enough, he could tune out the colours and focus on the face behind them. But not completely. There was always a tinge that betrayed what the person in question was feeling.
Under The Oak Tree (AO3)
Summary: Five times Castiel wept underneath the old oak tree, and one time he laughed. 4.1k
100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #31: “Don’t worry about me.”
Also written for the Writers of Destiel ‘Writer’s Choice’ Bingo for the prompt ‘under the oak tree’.
Thanks to @fangirlingtodeath513 for being a fantastic beta!
1.
Beneath an old oak tree on the outskirts of town, Castiel wept into his hands, uncaring of the snot and blood that smeared across his face as he cried. He couldn’t go home yet, even though he knew his parents would be expecting him. If they saw the blood on his face, they’d know exactly what had happened.
If they found out he was being bullied again, they’d make him switch schools. For the second time. Castiel had started at the fancy private middle school across town, but he’d been miserable there. His friend Dean had gone to the local middle school—where Castiel was now enrolled—and he didn’t want to move someplace else. He wanted to stay with Dean.
Dean had been pretty good about protecting him from being pushed around so far, but he couldn’t be around all the time. Their schedules were too different to facilitate that. Castiel’s older brother, Gabriel, had moved with him too, but where Castiel was a social outcast, Gabriel was a social butterfly.
It was only a matter of time before Gabriel found out about the bullying and rained Hell down on them, but Castiel didn’t want that. Gabriel wouldn’t be able to fight his battles forever.
“You okay, Cas?”
Castiel jumped, his heart thudding in fright. He’d been so wrapped up in his tears that he hadn’t even heard the sound of his best friend arriving. Truth be told, Castiel hadn’t expected to be found here. He’d only stumbled upon this hill accidentally when the sidewalk had turned into grass and he’d lost track of where he was.
“I’m fine,” he sniffed, taking the tissue that Dean held out to him and cleaning the worst of the blood from his face. “Thanks.”
Equals (AO3)
Summary: Castiel has one shot, and if it involves punching Crowley in the face? All the better.
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,372
Tags: AU, Human AU, Prison AU, angst with a happy ending, secret relationship, prison/guard relationship.
Written for the Writers of Destiel server ‘Weekly Words’ challenge, with the prompt ‘white wings’.
He could let it go.
It was just a sarcastic comment, a friendly joke that Castiel had been made the butt of. Normally he’d be the first one to laugh that off. But today he didn’t want to. Castiel had been looking for an excuse to crack skulls all day and now he’d found one.
There was a buzz of excitement from the other inmates as Castiel leapt from his seat, fist flying towards Crowley’s face. There was a sickening crunch that almost certainly loosened a few teeth, and Castiel savoured in his triumph for just a moment. The guards hovering at the sides of the yard had yet to notice that a full-blown brawl was about to break out, but they’d figure it out soon enough.
Fate (AO3)
Summary: “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dean tugged Castiel towards the storefront. “Don’t you want to find out who your soulmate is? Who you’re fated to be with?”
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,338
Tags: AU, Human AU, Anti-Soulmate AU, angst with a happy ending
Written for the Writers of Destiel server ‘Weekly Words’ challenge, with the prompt ‘rise from the ashes’.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dean tugged Castiel towards the storefront. “Don’t you want to find out who your soulmate is? Who you’re fated to be with?”
Castiel dug his heels in, refusing to be coerced towards the sketchy-looking store front. He didn’t know why Dean had gotten it into his head that he wanted to try and go to a witchy-wicca-hybrid store, but Castiel wasn’t getting involved.
“Absolutely not. At least, not at the expense of giving some charlatan my money. And honestly, I suspect my soulmate might be a bit of a jackass.”
Dean rolled his eyes and slid his arm around Castiel. “So, I’m a jackass now? Gotta say, I’m starting to feel a little unloved here, Cas.”
Castiel scowled, refusing to be baited. “You know I love you. But I thought we agreed that we didn’t want to find out if we were soulmates. That the way we felt about each other was enough.”
“It is,” Dean averted his eyes and scuffed his boot along the floor. “I just wanted… forget it, it was a stupid idea anyway. Let’s go.”
“What were you going to say?” Castiel dug his heels in once again, now refusing to let Dean drag him away from the store. He might not want to go in, but he knew if they left, he’d never find out what Dean was about to say. “Tell me.”
Eyes Shut (AO3)
Summary: Dean learns a lesson about the dangers of drink-driving, and in the process learns a few things about his future.
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,500
Tags: AU, Human!Castiel, angst with a happy ending, serious injuries, paraplegia, A Christmas Carol AU, implied alcoholism, basically Dean is a jerk in this and learns his lesson.
“Another?”
The bartender holds out a bottle of whiskey, an eyebrow raised. Dean looks down at his empty glass and then pushes it forward with one finger. “Fill ‘er up.”
“Last one,” she tells him. “I’m cutting you off.”
Dean grunts and looks at her. She’s stunning, all blonde and curvy and exactly his type. But he drags his eyes away, thinking about the perfect boyfriend he had waiting for him at home. Castiel was truly the man of his dreams, and nobody else held a candle to him, and hadn’t since they met as college roommates.
He looks down at his phone and sees that Castiel is calling, for the fifth time. Dean flips his phone, effectively silencing the call. He drains his glass and gets to his feet, dropping a wad of bills on the bar. A little unsteady on his feet as he steps onto the pavement, Dean leans against the wall to try and shake it off, closing his eyes.
100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #90
“You can tell me anything.”
Summary: Five times Castiel bares his scars to Dean, and one time Dean returns the favour. 9.8k
Many thanks to @envydean and @jimminovak for helping me talk through this and giving me ideas. This originally went in a completely different direction.
1.
“Great,” Officer Dean Winchester muttered as it began to rain. “This is all your fault, Benny, you know that right?”
“How’d you figure that one, brother? I ain’t exactly in charge of the weather. If I was, I’d make damn sure I’d be wealthier than I am.” His partner looked affronted.
“Oh yeah, don’t give me that ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ crap. You were all like ‘I miss Louisiana, Kansas is too dry for these old Bayou bones, I need a bit of rainfall every now and again.”
Benny folded his arms, pursing his lips at the terrible impression of his accent. “And I stand by that assessment but that don’t mean I wanted to chill my ‘Bayou bones’ to the core while I’m on duty. If anythin’ this is your fault, Mr. I-Don’t-Want-To-Leave-My-Precious-Car-On-The-Street-So-Let’s-Walk-From-Here. Now we have to trek back to the damn car in torrential downpour.”
Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He did pick up the pace though, not wanting to be caught in the rain any longer than he had to. Rounding the corner, his gaze fell on a dark shape huddled up against one of the buildings. He caught Benny’s eyes and gestured with a nod of his head.
“I’m gonna move him on, he can’t stay out here in this. He’s not even under shelter.”
Benny murmured his agreement, sympathy evident in his tone. He hung back as Dean approached the bundle of clothes, clicking on his torch.
“Sir? You can’t stay out here. C’mon, I’ll buy you a coffee and we’ll find you a shelter for tonight.”
No response. Dean’s gaze sharpened as the homeless man didn’t even acknowledge his words. He edged closer, squinting through the heavy rainfall to the unresponsive man and then shrugging back at his partner.
“Sir? Can you hear me? Is everything okay?”
Send me a single word and I’ll write something?
Taking a step back, Castiel looked over at the fruits of his labour for the last time. It was a spectacular cake, even if he said so himself. Six tiers, a fluffy lemon sponge with a blueberry compote and lilac-infused cream. It was decorated with flawless white fondant, and blue and green sugared flowers. It stood, tall and regal, the most spectacular wedding cake that Castiel had ever created without a doubt.
Sam and Jess were worth it.
Castiel was happy for them, truly. Still, he couldn’t shake the wistful as he dreamed of his own wedding, to Sam’s brother and love of Castiel’s life, Dean. They’d been together for seven long years. Engaged for almost two. Yet with Dean’s career as a naval engineer requiring long hours and Castiel’s own couture wedding cake business taking off, landing him with a six-month waiting period, they’d never had time to arrange anything.
Yet when Sam had announced his engagement, blushing and shy, Dean had taken an immediate vacation and promised Sam he wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. That Dean would plan everything for him. He had done an admirable job, dragging Castiel around venues and testing caterers. He’d even recruited Charlie to officiate the ceremony. Pleased by Dean’s renewed interest in weddings, Castiel had tentatively reminded Dean they had yet to set a date for their own nuptials.
“Sure, but I gotta focus on Sammy first, Cas. He’s my little brother. His happiness is the most important thing to me.”
That had stung.
Unwilling to voice his concerns, Castiel had volunteered to make the wedding cake for free, as part of his gift to Sam and Jess.
Now the big day was here. Dean had spent last night over at Sam’s to stop him from fretting and suffering from cold feet. Castiel had dressed in his tux alone, and even though he was meant to be making his way to the church, he’d been unable to resist stopping by his bakery, even though Anna and his apprentice Jack would be bringing the cake to the reception later.
The sound of the door chiming drew Castiel’s attention and he turned to see Sam, dressed in his own tux, complete with blue waistcoat.
“Sam? Shouldn’t you be at the church?” Castiel asked, alarmed, looking across at the clock.
“So should you,” Sam reminded him. “Dean was looking for you. There was an issue with the flowers, so he’s handling that while I came to get you. We should go, or Jess will beat us there.”
Castiel nodded, unable to help grinning at Sam widely. “Are you nervous about today?” He teased. “It’s been a long time coming.”
Sam snorted. “You got that right,” he muttered. “I can safely say that nervous isn’t my main emotion right now. Oh, that reminds me, Dean gave me this for you. Said something about both my best men needing to match.” He fixed a boutonniere into Castiel’s buttonhole.
Castiel blinked as that registered. “Both? But I thought – Dean’s your brother, and I would never presume…”
“After all this time, you think you’re not my brother just as much as Dean is?” Sam nudged him gently. “Sorry I didn’t ask you sooner. Dean said the pressure would stress you out.”
“I’d be honoured,” Castiel replied, roughly, feeling a lump in his throat. “We should go.”
The ride to the church was quiet, with Castiel still reeling from being asked to be Sam’s best man. He’d never even considered dual-duties with Dean, especially since Dean had taken care of almost everything, and Castiel was sure he could throw a speech together off the top of his head. He had seven years of material, after all.
They hurried into the church, but instead of making their way into the nave as expected, Sam pulled him into one of the side rooms. “Wait here for two minutes, okay? I’ll get Dean, he’ll need to coordinate with you about… uh… the rings, I think?”
Sam disappeared into the church, leaving Castiel confused but content to do as he was instructed. When Gabriel appeared moments later, Castiel stared at his brother.
“Sam invited you?”
“Actually, Dean did,” Gabriel gave him a shit-eating grin. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you? This isn’t Sam’s wedding, Bucko. It’s yours.”
Castiel’s jaw dropped.
“Dean planned everything, because he knew you were too busy. Got your input on the venue, the caterers, hell, you even designed your own wedding cake. He’s in there and he wants to marry you right now. So what do you say, kid? Want to go marry your dreamboat?”
Tears filled Castiel’s eyes and he wiped them away furiously, giving a nod. His heart felt like it was going to explode down his chest as he took Gabriel’s arm and let the sound of the wedding march fill his ears as he finally understood what was going on. His knees felt weak as he walked, his hands trembling as he passed row after row of their friends, their family. But Castiel didn’t see any of them. He only had eyes for Dean.
Each slow step down the aisle felt like torture when he could see Dean standing at the front, so far away and yet so close. Castiel wanted to break away from his brother and run to his future husband, but a lot of planning had gone into this and Castiel would be damned if he did anything to ruin it, or make it anything less than perfect.
When he eventually reached Dean, and he took the warm, familiar hand that was waiting for him, his strength returned. The pounding of blood in his ears faded and all that remained was love. Unconditional love for the selfless, beautiful man in front of him. Castiel clung to Dean’s hand tightly feeling tears well up again, but when they clouded his view of Dean’s face, he blinked them away.
“Those are happy tears, right?” Dean whispered, a spark of uncertainty hidden deep within his green eyes. “If this isn’t what you wanted –”
Castiel cut off any self-deprecation with a kiss that he knew was meant to come later, but he didn’t care. In the pews, their friends and families laughed, but Castiel heard nothing. He just felt Dean’s laughter against his lips and then arms were encircling his waist and pulling him in close. Their lips parted and then Dean’s forehead was resting against his own.
“I love you,” Castiel choked. “So much.”
“I love you more,” Dean smiled. “That’s a ‘yes’ to marrying me, right?”
Castiel pulled back, reaching out to take Dean’s hands again with a wide smile on his face.
“I can’t think of anything I want more.”
The video that inspired Castiel’s routine.
Send me a single word and I’ll write something?
Dean sat down, trying to catch his breath. He had done his absolute best, he knew that. There was nothing he could have done on his part to execute his free skate any better. He’d nailed every toe loop, salchow, lutz and axel that his coach had choreographed for him.
The scores would reflect that, yet he knew he wouldn’t be taking home the gold medal this time.
That honour would go to Castiel Novak.
Dean gritted his teeth as he thought about his competition. Everyone hated Castiel Novak. Where the rest of the skaters were all social, Castiel kept to himself. What could be shyness came off as arrogance and it rubbed Dean the wrong way. He’d already nailed the short program, leagues ahead of everyone else. His old-fashioned routines drew attention.
Nobody expected a man in his twenties to be skating to classical music. Rachmaninoff, Vivaldi, Chopin. They were a rarity among the modern skaters, who preferred to skate to whatever had been in the charts at the start of the season. Even Dean, with his classic rock routines, was less unusual than Castiel.
But the judges ate him up.
Dean wasn’t even trying to hide his bitterness. He knew it was coming across as petty jealousy, like he was envious of the skill Castiel had and the points he scored. It wasn’t that. It was that he was pandering to the preferences of the judges. In Dean’s book, that was only a step away from cheating.
He glanced up to see his score, and smiled. That was enough to earn him the silver, he was sure of it.
Castiel was up next for his free skate, but Dean wasn’t paying attention. He settled down with the other competitors, gulping gratefully at the bottle of water that Benny handed to him.
“Thanks, man.”
“You did good,” Benny drawled. “Much as it pains me to admit it, I think you just knocked me down to bronze.”
Dean grinned, and knocked his elbow into Benny’s. “No hard feelings, right?”
“Sure, brother. ‘Til next time.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the screeching of one of the other entrants, Dick Roman, who was hooting with laughter.
“He fell! Perfect Castiel Novak slipped and hit the ice. Good luck hanging onto that gold now, Asstiel!” He whooped.
Dean’s head whipped around in time to see the replay of the slip. Roman was right, Castiel had slipped and put his hand on the ice, but his recovery had been swift and, from the looks of it, he’d made enough rotations. For the first time, Dean paid close attention to Castiel’s routine, watching his lithe body as he swept around the rink.
He was unbelievable.
Bitterness faded into awe as he watched how Castiel’s form moved like liquid, each movement flowed into the next, precise and fluid. He was breathtaking. Ne Me Quitte Pas echoed around the stadium and Dean could see that Castiel knew every note, every word, every beat. This music wasn’t chosen for the judges. It was chosen by Castiel, for himself. He loved it. He revered it. It was visible in the execution.
When Castiel entered the room, sweaty and weary, he was met with jeers and taunts. For the first time, Dean disagreed with his fellow competitors. How could they not have seen the merit, the worthiness in Castiel’s routine? That hadn’t vanished just because he’d slipped. Everyone did at some point or other, whether it was during the World Championships or a warm-up.
He rose, intercepting Castiel on his way to an empty seat at the opposite side of the room. “I just wanted to say that I thought you were amazing.”
Castiel lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s, wary and assessing. After a moment, he nodded. “Thank you.”
“I mean it,” Dean pressed. “I’ve never seen that before, the way you move, it’s… breathtaking. Beautiful.”
He flushed as the word slipped from his mouth, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Castiel’s lips. Despite his best efforts, Dean couldn’t help but smile right back.
100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #64
“It’s two sugars, right?”
Summary: It was an utter lack of hope that made Castiel Novak end his relationship with his alcoholic fiancé, Dean Winchester, fourteen months ago. [AO3]
Inspired by Don’t Let Go by the wonderfully talented @envydean
Castiel sat bolt upright, his heart thudding in his chest. His hand twitched but he didn’t reach for the gun on his nightstand just yet, taking stock of the situation. What had woken him? His bleary eyes struggled to focus in the dark, the fuzzy red display of his alarm clock informing him that it was coming up to 2am.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Instantly alert, he snatched up his gun and slid out of bed in a single smooth motion. Shirtless and barefoot, wearing only the ratty pair of pyjama pants he slept in, Castiel made his way down the stairs in the dark. He knew this house backwards: how to traverse it in the dark, knew to miss out the third stair from the bottom as it creaked loudly. The weight of the familiar Glock in his hand was a comfort to him, his FBI-issued service weapon giving him a sense of security at the unknown noise in the middle of the night.
Castiel longed to switch the light on so he could see exactly where the disturbance was coming from, but he currently had the advantage and he wouldn’t give that up so easily. Inching along the hallway, his eyes focused on the only fraction of light he could see – the porch light. He moved closer, keeping his shoulder pressed to the wall, his breath hitching when the loud bangs started up again. Now more awake, Castiel could identify them for what they were.
Someone was knocking at the door.
100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #36
“We’ll figure it out.”
Summary: Five times Dean told Cas they’d figure it out, and one time he didn’t need to. College AU. [AO3]
Thanks to @profound-boning and @envydean for being amazing betas.
1.
Dean heaved his suitcase up the stairs, swiping at his brow. California wasn’t as hot as he’d expected, at least in the Bay Area. Still, the act of lugging most of his worldly possessions up the stairs of his new dorm room, his home for the next year, was hard work. To add insult to injury, Stanford didn’t provide air conditioning.
It had been a complete surprise when he’d been accepted into Stanford. Both his plan to apply and the improvement of Dean’s grades had been quite a recent development. He had to set an example for Sammy, after all, and if that only bettered himself in the long run then that was a bonus too. It was different, to not have his mom or Sam around him every day, but it would be an experience too. A chance to be independent, to meet new people. Starting with his new roommate.
Dean pushed open the door to his room cautiously, hesitating once he saw that half of the room had already been claimed and that the bathroom light was on. Not wanting to just walk in unannounced, he cleared his throat as he let the door swing closed behind him.
“Hey, anyone here?”
There was an intake of breath and the unmistakable sound of toiletries clattering into the sink, and then his new roommate emerged from the bathroom. Dean was surprised by how normal he looked, having expected the worst. The guy was of similar height to Dean, wearing regular sneakers, faded jeans and a plain t-shirt. His hair was dark and stuck up at all angles, and Dean spent a second wondering if it was artfully tousled or uncooperative bedhead.
“Hello. You must be my new roommate. I’m Castiel.”
100 Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ #56
“It brings out your eyes.”
Summary: Head Chef Dean Winchester has been waiting for years for renowned food critic Castiel Novak to visit his restaurant. [AO3]
Castiel glanced over the menu with a raised eyebrow. As the most renowned food critic in the Midwest, he’d seen his fair share of extravagant menus. Some of them had delivered on it, others had not. This one was promising, and he had high hopes it would deliver the absolute perfection he had come to anticipate in his line of work.
Seeing the server approach, Castiel set down his menu and picked up the wine list, glancing over it briefly. Since he’d be sampling mostly red meat that evening, he selected a nice Barolo to accompany his meal. He smiled politely at the server, a redhead woman who had a slight pinch between her brows despite her perfect smile. Her eyes remained on Castiel’s face as she scrawled on her notebook, as if she was trying to place where she recognised him.
“I’ll just get your wine for you, sir, and be back to take your order.” She disappeared for a few moments, leaving Castiel to glance around the restaurant.
It was a warm décor, rich reds and golds, the surfaces of the tables and bar giving a more rustic feel to the restaurant. The owner and head chef, one Dean Winchester had worked hard to build Petit Impala from nothing. He’d succeeded in a competitive business and it was damn near impossible to get a table. Even now, he could see the busy servers running around an almost-full dining room.
When the server – Charlie, Castiel noted from her nametag – returned with his wine, Castiel reached for the glass, swirling the burgundy liquid and holding it under his nose, inhaling deeply. He took a small sip, allowing the subtle flavours to envelope his palate. Rich, full-bodied, exactly what he wanted. He could even taste the rose tar undertone and the dried herbs in the aftertaste.
“It’s perfect, thank you,” he murmured, settling the glass back down so Charlie could pour.
Dean doesn’t have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak. [AO3]
Requested by @stardustsam [requests?]
With a heavy sigh, Dean lifts up his head and signals the bartender to pour him another.
He glances around while he’s waiting, and instantly regrets his decision. Couples, everywhere. Wrapped in each other’s arms, engrossed in their conversations, even making out in one particular case. Gross. Dean’s tempted to tell them to get a room, but even he can’t muster up the bitterness over someone else’s happiness. He’s just bitter he’ll never get his own.
As if to taunt him further, the bartender’s sleeve rides up as she pours the whiskey bottle, displaying her timer.
00:05:32.
Less than six minutes to go until she meets her soulmate.
Nobody is really sure how the timers work. They’re etched into the skin from birth, small black digits on the wrist that count down until the moment that person meets their soulmate.
“Five minutes, huh?” Dean comments, draining the glass in one and gesturing for another. “You excited?”
The bartender colours and little bit, but shoots a nervous smile in Dean’s direction. “More like cautiously optimistic. I mean, we’re supposed to be made for each other, right? That can only be a good thing.”
“Sure,” Dean agrees easily, throwing back the second drink, shooting her a sideways smirk. “One more for the road, so I don’t take your attention away from your soulmate? I better get home.”
“Got your soulmate at home waiting for you?” The bartender smiles, gesturing to Dean’s arm, which is covered by the sleeves of his jacket.
Dean and Castiel bring in the New Year with no regrets. 1.1k
There’s ten minutes left of 2017.
They’re with Jody and Donna, so Castiel could check in on Claire for Christmas. That was the excuse anyway. In reality, they all wanted to check on Claire and the other girls. The holidays were a time for family, after all. Besides, it had been a difficult year for all of them. To bring in the new year surrounded by family, whatever variation of family that might be to each of them, was a sign of hope to all.
Sam and Jody are setting up fireworks in the middle of a field, far away from the public eye. It brings back memories for Dean, sitting on top of the Impala when Sam was just a kid. Hell, he’d still been a kid himself. It feels like a lifetime ago.
He pulls a beer out of the cooler, popping off the lid with ease and taking a long drink. It’s his fourth of the night, but he’s building up some courage.
There’s nine minutes to midnight, and he still hasn’t asked Castiel to be his New Year kiss.
He’ll probably chicken out, press a smooth kiss to Donna’s cheek and shoot her a wink. It’s his way, after all. For now, he’s allowing himself nine minutes of denial, nine minutes of fantasy.
He sees himself walking up to Castiel, cupping his cheek, closing the gap between them. He sees himself pulling back, a look of awe and happiness on Castiel’s face. He can practically feel their fingers interlocking as a sign of promise.