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Even after millions of years, Castiel remembers what the world was like in the beginning. He remembers how, before stars, the sky stretched inky black and endless above him; uninterrupted by light or celestial bodies. And the earth, covered entirely in glassy water, spread below him. Smooth and dark, it rippled only when disturbed by the luminous presence of a passing angel; only the faint glow of their true form catching in a gentle shimmer on the wake as they flew by. Most of all, Castiel remembers the peacefulness that came from the darkness surrounding him both above and below. It was spacious but not vacant, like a farm house with vaulted ceilings; quiet but not silent, like a remote meadow with a gentle breeze.Now Castiel knows what it is like at the end of the world too, at least for him. For all intents and purposes, it is the same as the beginning. Above him is inky black expanse, imperceptibly vast and impossibly dark. Below him, the slightest ripples of dark liquid which emit at his presence. However, it could not feel more different to him. Here the darkness is stifling and intrudes upon him from every direction. Instead of gently floating above deep waters in endless space, Castiel is plastered against stiff ground beneath the thinnest layer of sticky shadow masquerading as a liquid. He is no longer able to angelically perceive depth leaving him with the sense that he is stuck in a Jimmy Novak shaped box. This darkness is vacant, like an old office building that was stripped but never sold; it is silent in a deafening way, like when you freeze in the dead of night after imagining a sound.There are many names for this darkness. Sheol. The Void. The Empty. He thought of it as Sheol when he believed it would be a place of rest. Darkness like when humans close their eyes and their mind wanders off to let their body recoup. Peaceful and placid, like a night spent in a warm motel bed after a cold day’s drive. The mindless feeling of contentment sitting in the chair across from Dean’s bed while he sleeps, knowing that being there means he is safe. This was not Sheol any longer. Castiel lays awake in this inky blackness, aware of all the other angelic and demonic presences that must surround him somewhere just out of view. This is the Void, where darkness consumes him and every other being who lays here, trapping them in skintight coffins like people drowned in tar. But to him, it was quickly ceasing to be the Void either.Castiel thinks of all the other beings who lay in this place with him, but his thoughts linger on all of those who are here because of him. His mind goes through every angel he has killed over the past decade. All those who had sided with Raphael. All those who had worked against Dean Winchester at some time or another whom he had murdered with hardly a thought. All who had fought at his side and paid the price for his mistakes. When his mind runs out of siblings he can name who had died at his hand or in his name, his thoughts return to where they always do. Dean Winchester. Castiel’s mind replays Dean’s face as he confessed his love, vivid as though his eyes were projecting it onto the opaque screen of darkness before him. The joy of his confession had long since left his body, seeping out into the shadows drip by drip with each time he replayed it, consumed by the blackness. Now, all that remains as it plays once more is the devastating feeling of unrequited love, hammered home by the deadened look in Dean’s eyes as he said the words. The feeling inside his chest as though he had been hollowed out. A retired scarecrow lying deflated on a shelf, waiting to be filled with new straw that will never come. This is the Empty.
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Tumblr postToday’s piece is a sketch of Sam and Dean in a pumpkin patch seeing the great pumpkin, Castiel!
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Dean sighed contentedly as Cas rolled onto the bed beside him, dropping the towel onto the floor next to the bed. Dean adjusted his sweaty body, which was quickly becoming clammy in the cool air, to press against the soft, warm skin of Cas’s upper body that always radiated a gentle heat.
Now that Jack was god and no longer living in the Bunker, Sam being out on a case meant that Dean and Cas had the whole place to themselves. As much as Dean loved living with his brother, he knew better than to waste privacy when he got it, and he had passed that tenet along to Cas over the months after Sam had given him enough bitch face to last a life time.
Pressing a thoughtless kiss against Dean’s hairline, Cas grunted, “You need to eat breakfast. Do you want to go shower while I make it?”
Dean laughed gently, “Sunshine, after last time, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Dean’s mind drifted back to several weeks ago when Cas had attempted to make French toast before Dean got out of bed. He had awoken to the smell of smoke drifting from the kitchen and Sam loudly admonishing Cas for trying to burn the place down.
Cas frowned and began to protest before a sudden thought made Dean cut him off excitedly. “Wait!! I’ll make pancakes! It’s been forever since I got to make pancakes, but we have fresh eggs from the store finally so I should have all the ingredients and we can—“ Dean trailed off, “What?”
Cas’s frown had morphed into a bemused grin at Dean’s ramblings and he was staring at Dean as though nothing else in the world could be funnier or cuter. Cas gave Dean a kiss, firm and a little sloppy, and entirely drawn out, with a comical “mmmmwah” sound, before making a show of shoving Dean out of bed unceremoniously.
“Hey!” Dean rolled off the bed, giggling as he caught himself. “Fine, no more post-coital cuddling for you!”
Dean gathered up some combination of clothes from the floor where they had been scattered, quickly finding himself dressed in a pair of light blue flannel pajama pants (adorned with clouds wearing sun glasses) and a dark pink t-shirt from Cas’s closet that said “SWEET CHEEKS” on it, which Dean had acquired from a restaurant’s gift shop in Kentucky several hunts ago. He gave Cas a grin and a wink before grabbing his dead-guy robe from the back of the door and heading to the kitchen.
Dean’s mind wandered while he gathered ingredients for the pancakes, frequently going back to check the recipe— a torn out magazine page from an issue of Southern Lady that he had been thumbing through in a motel room while Sam was showering. As he dug through the pantry he came across a fresh squirt bottle from a pack he had gotten to store cooking oil in and had an idea.
—
Dean was proudly drawing the outline for his fifth penis shaped pancake into the pan, carefully adding veins to the curved length, when he heard a sound behind him in the kitchen. He turned to greet Cas, a huge grin on his face, only to have his expression turn to horror as his eyes settled on the person before him. He instinctively moved to put his body in front of the plate full of pancakes before slowly greeting the person before him.
“Morning, Jack.” Dean felt his whole face flushing bright red and he considered just asking Jack to smite him right then and there. “I can make you other pancakes, sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be in this morning…”
Jack looked entirely unfazed, as per usual, and was about to respond when Cas came around the corner saying “Smells good sweethea— Jack!!“
Dean’s eyes flicked over to Cas and he doubled down on his wish for Jack to smite him as he noticed Cas’s attire. Unaffected by the chilly winter air in the Bunker, Cas had opted for only a pair of pajama pants, leaving the broad expanse of his chest and his toned arms on full display. With a big smile, he strode towards his son, greeting him with a hug. Jack squeezed back, the two of them entirely unbothered by Cas’s lack of clothes, and paying no attention to Dean’s bright red face.
Just smite me…
Pulling back, Jack pointed past Dean and told Cas confidently, “Dean made pancakes that look like you!”
PLEASE FUCKING SMITE ME!!
“Oh did he? Well you know how inspiring I am…” Cas smirked as he moved to glance behind Dean’s back at the plate of pancakes.
Dean’s eyes stayed wide open even as his brain begged to shut them, watching as the metaphorical vehicles piled up and spontaneously combusted in this seemingly endless car wreck he couldn’t peel his eyes away from. He felt the moment that Cas made eye contact with the carefully crafted penis pancakes, seeing them in their veiny glory, and the air in the room went utterly still. Cas’s smirk dropped for a moment, causing Dean to simultaneously rejoice at not being the only one embarrassed and to redden further as Cas grasped the situation, but then Cas was suddenly doubled over laughing.
This was more than Dean could cope with.
Before he knew it though, he was doubled over too, laughing so hard that his ribs hurt, his eyes leaked, and he was hardly even making a sound as his lungs tried in vain to fill back up. They laughed and laughing, leaning against each other, and nearly collapsing onto the floor. Only minutes later when Dean had wiped away the tears streaming down his cheeks and mostly caught his breath did he think to look at Jack again, finding him with an eyebrow quirked and a slight smile, but otherwise entirely unmoved.
Dean turned around to revel in his work now that the tension had left his shoulders and, with a jolt of panic, realized he had completely neglected the pancake outline still on the pan. “Shit!”
He cringed as he attempted to pry it off the pan, listening to it crack and shatter into small burnt shards. Accepting his loss, he scraped it off of the pan with force and piled the soot into a small bowl to cool down before going in the trash can. Finally, he turned around to face the music once more.
“So, I’m the one who is too irresponsible to make breakfast…” Cas stated, giving Dean a smug look.
“I don’t wanna hear a goddamn thing, it’s not the same and you know it.” Dean defended, though he was already beginning to think that Cas might be right. He sighed, “What shape pancakes would you like Jack?”
Jack’s brow furrowed for a moment, thinking about it very deeply, before stating, resolutely, “Trapezoid.” He nodded as though confident in his answer before adding, “Please.”
Dean shook his head gently before putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder reassuringly, “You got it kid. Now go put the syrup and orange juice on the table while your dad goes to get a shirt.”
Jack hops over to the fridge happily and begins digging out the juice. Cas gives Dean another smug look before turning to go, but Dean grabs him by the wrist and pulls him in for a hug. Cas, surprised, wraps his hands around Dean’s waist before Dean whispers harshly in his ear, “I’m gonna enjoy these pancakes and then I am never going to hear another word about this, understood?”
Cas leans back and plants a quick kiss on Dean’s cheek, “Of course. Because Sam wouldn’t find this funny at all…”
With that, Cas turned and ran out of the kitchen laughing. “Oh you’re gonna get it now, buddy!” Dean hollered after him.
He turned back towards the stove with a shake of his head and a lingering smile before thinking to himself,
what the fuck is a trapezoid???
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Check out my tumblr post with a drawing of Godstiel!
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“My phone won’t turn sideways.”Dean raised his eyes from the book he had been staring at for almost an hour now.“What?” Dean raised his eyebrows at the grumpy angel standing over him.“Dean, my phone won’t turn sideways.” Cas repeated, glaring at Dean, clearly already frustrated since he had resorted to asking for help.Dean, partly due to a lack of understanding still, partly in hopes of being a little shit, slowly took the phone from Cas’s hand, turning it to the side so that it now lay horizontal in Cas’s palm.Cas squinted harder, glaring at Dean like he was considering lethal force. “No, Dean. The screen. The picture on the screen won’t spin so it can be bigger and fill up the screen.”Dean began to laugh heartily, “Cas, is your phone stuck in portrait mode? Let me see it.”Shoulders still shaking with laughter, he took the phone from Cas’s hand once more. Turning it on and typing in Cas’s passcode, Dean quickly opened up settings to search for orientation lock. Less than thirty seconds later, Dean had resolved the problem and was about to hand the phone back to Cas when he thought to ask, “Wait, what were you trying to look at?”Cas reached for his phone without answering, only for it to be snatched away as Dean pulled his hand back. “Nuh uh mister, if you have a tech problem, you gotta show it to the tech solution.”Dean wiggled his eyebrows and bit his lip in an obnoxious attempt at sexiness. Cas flushed, though clearly not in response to Dean’s stupid antics. “I was trying to look at a picture… it’s quite old, so it’s too grainy when I zoom in so I wanted to see it just a little bigger.”Dean’s face slipped into curious confusion before he returned his eyes to the phone. Opening up the running apps, he swiped back to photos and found a picture he had not seen in a very long time. It was from the night he took Cas to the strip bar when he thought that his conversation with Raphael might mean certain depth. Dean had taken a quick photo of Cas from across the table while they were waiting for their drinks, partially out of fear that it would be the last time he saw him, and partially because the look on his face had just been so priceless. Dean couldn’t remember sending it to Cas, but angels had their ways.When Dean thought to look back up at Cas again, wrenching himself from his memories, he found Cas looking sheepish with a blush still lingering on his cheeks. “Didn’t I take this photo?” Was all Dean could get out, though he didn’t think it was what he really wanted to ask.“Yes,” Cas answered slowly, “it was my last night on earth.”Dean waited for Cas to continue, but when he didn’t, “Why do you like it so much?” Dean didn’t want it to come out harshly, but he thought it did anyway so he kept going. “I mean, I like it cause I had a great time that night, but I don’t remember you particularly enjoying yourself…”Cas smiled fondly, seemingly able to see the humor of the situation, even if only in hindsight. “I…” He paused, face contorted as he tried to phrase his thoughts appropriately. “I like seeing myself the way you see me. At the time, I had not yet developed a strong connection to this physical form. I have become more fond of it since then, and being human helped ground me in this shape, but still when I think of myself, it is something more akin to my true form. But I like the reminder that, even then, this is what I looked like to you and this is what you think of when you think of me.”Cas finished his explanation with a resigned smile, having just laid bare his heart, and waited patiently for Dean’s thoughts to catch up.After a moment, Dean began, “That’s… That’s not what I think of when I think of you.”Cas’s face dropped and he quickly started to apologize, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that you—““No no no, that’s not— you’re more than that.” Dean stopped for a moment and licked his lips hesitantly before resolving himself. “When I think about you that’s the face I see, yeah. And the trench coat and suit. But you’re… I can feel your energy, Cas. You’re bigger than that. I can’t see it, but I can feel you in the whole room. Sometimes I can almost swear I bump into your wings when I walk past you. It’s… your true form is there, I can sense it, even if I can’t see it. But mostly when I think about you, it’s not even what you look like at all. Like, yeah, your face is good and your hair and……. Yeah, but you’re just a cool guy to be around. I think a lot more about how funny you are and what a pain in my ass you are and how kind you are and how much I care about you….” Dean trailed off, blushing as he realized how much further he had gone than he meant to.Cas smiled broadly, “I see… thank you, Dean.”Dean chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah bud, don’t worry about it. I wish I could take a picture that had all of you in it to show you what I see.”“It’s okay Dean, I often wish that I could show you exactly what I see when I look at you. Your soul is beautiful, even if you can’t see it.”With that, Cas turned to leave, tucking his phone back into the pocket of his trench coat, guiding himself out of the room as Dean gripped the back of the chair next to him and tried not to let his eyes get misty. He wondered how he could be so lucky as to have someone who found him beautiful.
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Dean was thrilled to be in possession of a large bed at the bunker. While it sometimes got a little lonely, or a little cold since the place was particularly drafty, he had spent so much of his life without things that he could call his own that he savored having a bed which was just for him. However, after a few weeks of Cas sneaking in and out of his room at night in partial states of undress, he figured that he should start letting Cas come sleep with him. Although he still associated sharing a bed more with getting the short end of the stick and not having one to yourself than with anything romantic or otherwise, he had decided not to be a little bitch about it and buck up. After all, he did have the bigger bed, and sharing was better than giving up his sweet sweet memory foam entirely to go sleep in the bare bones room that Cas occupied when he was at the bunker.So here he was, scooting his pillow over to the right side of the bed, mentally preparing himself for his first night of co-sleeping with his angel."Dean, I don't even sleep. I would be perfectly happy to sit at the desk and watch you while you rest. My presence on the bed is not necessary for you to sleep." Cas eyed him warily as Dean shuffled around the room, doing a poor job of hiding his stupid feelings on the matter."No Cas, that's stupid. I don't care if you don't sleep, if you want to be in here with me while I'm sleeping, you'll get in bed with me cause you're my boyfriend and that's what boyfriends do." Dean plopped himself down onto the bed with a huff and pointed at the spot next to him. "Strip or be stripped, sweetheart, it's time for bed."Cas rolled his eyes and began the tedious process of pulling off layer after layer of clothes until he was left only with his undershirt and boxers. Climbing into bed under the blanket, Cas placed a gentle kiss on Dean's cheek before snuggling close to him. Dean sighed contentedly and relaxed his body into Cas's, letting the rhythm of his breathing slowly lull him into sleep.--When Dean awoke, everything seemed normal. His jaw gaped in a big yawn, and his arm was stretched most of the way across the bed to grab his phone from his night stand when he remembered. Why was he alone and in the middle of the bed again? He went to sleep with Cas! He bolted upright, panicked, only to discover Cas, now partially reclothed with his dress pants on once more, sitting in the desk chair across from him looking at his phone.At the sound of motion, Cas's eyes lifted. "Oh, good morning, Dean.""What the fuck, Cas?" Dean suddenly felt more hurt than he had anticipated. "I told you to stay in bed with me, what happened?"The corners of Cas's mouth slowly curled upwards, causing Dean's racing heart to slow ever so slightly. Without saying a word, Cas returned his eyes to his phone and started swiping through something. A few moments passed this way, with Dean staring at Cas wide-eyed while Cas swiped away, and just as Dean was about to voice his frustrations at not being answered, Cas pulled himself from the chair and came to sit on the side of Dean's bed.Cas handed the phone to Dean, saying simply, "Swipe."Dean's jaw slowly loosened as he stared at the picture on the screen. With a time stamp of 1:44 am, a dim and grainy photo showed him laying diagonally across the bed, head exactly where it had started, but his legs and feet almost to the opposite corner in the space where Cas was supposed to have been. With a creeping sense of shame, Dean swiped to the next photo, finding another dim and grainy image of him from 2:07 am, this time with his right leg and right arm sprawled out to form some sort of janky 'K' shape, his body taking up at least three quarters of the bed. Hesitantly, he swiped again, finding yet another dim and grainy photo, this time from 2:56 am, where he had rolled over and assumed a large right angle, leaving only his ass on his designated side of the bed. He felt his cheeks and neck begin to redden and he looked over at Cas with big eyes, "I'm so sorry Cas I didn't--""Oh, there's more." Cas's face was smug. "You haven't even gotten to my favorite yet.""Fuck me..." Dean muttered, returning his eyes to the phone.The next photo was from 3:22 and featured Dean in some sort of corrupted yoga pose, with one arm above his head, one leg directly underneath him, and the other bent in under him, a stretch he wasn't even sure he could purposefully achieve. When Dean swiped to the next photo, he heard Cas stifle a giggle. "This is my favorite. You look like you're praying."Sure enough, when Dean inspected the photo, this one from 4:13am, he had somehow ended up on hands and knees with his face at the foot of the bed, hugging his pillow to his face and chest, his ass pointed into the air."How did I even..." Dean trailed off, defeated.Cas took his phone back from Dean, smiling a little too hard. "You're a very animated sleeper. I'd be excited to see if you can do some of those while you're awake though. Watching you gave me some ideas about how I'd like to see you spread out for me."Dean shoved Cas's shoulder lightly, "You horny bastard. Maybe I'd get better sleep if you just laid on top of me instead of next to me."Cas raised an eyebrow suggestively and then shook his head. "Perhaps... Now I want to confirm that you are not a direct descendant of the starfish, though, as you seem to be very good at imitating them."
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Tumblr post to picture
Cas had been alive for a billion years, fought his way through hell, been tortured and brainwashed, fought in heaven’s wars, and killed innumerable people, so he was confident in his belief that he now stood next to the only soul in the history of existence who could have gotten him into this position. Castiel, angel of the lord, fierce warrior of heaven, was dressed like a cat for a costume night at the local gay bar. In his defense, it had taken some begging.
“Pleaseeeee????” Dean gave his best sad-Sam impression, lip out and eyes round. Cas remained silent, trying to keep his mouth shut in an attempt to save his dignity, since he already knew that the second it opened, the answer would be yes. The answer was always yes to Dean.
“Pretty please with a cherry on top?” Dean gave him a small smile, eyes still wide. “I don’t know how an abstract concept like begging could be pretty let alone have a cherry on top… but yes.” Castiel sighed as Dean bounced from foot to foot, a huge grin painted across his face.
Cas watched patiently while Dean put together their outfits: matching black sweatshirts that said “Good kitty” and “Bad kitty” on them for Cas and Dean respectively, and a headband adorned with cat ears. Cas was considering chiding Dean about being the “Bad kitty” since Dean was not bad, no matter how little he could see the good in himself. But then, Dean took a pair of scissors to the fabric, chopping off the lower half below the lettering, and then following suit with the sleeves. Bad kitty indeed. But there was more to chide about, “Dean, it’s October, won’t you be freezing without the rest of it?” Dean only laughed, looking Cas straight in the eyes and saying “A whore never gets cold.”
Then came the eyeliner. Cas sat patiently through the application of a nose and whiskers, but when Dean reached to put makeup on his eye he spoke up. “Dean, cats certainly do not wear eye makeup. It even says on the container that it was not tested on animals.” Dean had rolled his eyes, “It’s called a “cat eye” for a reason Cas. Besides, the point is that it’s sexy.” However, he did not argue further before starting to apply it to himself instead. Cas had only minutes before managed to wrangle the erection that seeing Dean in his cropped sweatshirt had elicited, and now the eyeliner was once again causing problems for him. But Dean was right, it certainly was sexy. As Dean had been about to put the container back in the drawer, having given up on the prospect altogether, Cas gathered his courage and grumbled, “May I have some too?” Dean spun on him, a smile quirking at his lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”
And then there were the collars. While Cas mentally objected to it on every level, he had no idea how to phrase his complaint. And every time he tried to look at Dean, his eyes caught on the shiny metal clasp in the center, and his mind went entirely blank as to what he had intended to say…
So here he was, an angel of the lord, dressed up as a cat for a Halloween event at a gay bar. Dean was beyond thrilled and Cas… well, he would do anything for Dean, and this did not weigh on his conscience as much as half of the other things he had done for the man. Besides, maybe Dean would look good in just the cat ears and collar at the end of the night, with the eyeliner running at the edges from a very good time.