Reblogged
the fact this isn’t the first time Cas confessed his love, but it is the first time Dean let himself hear it
Reblogged
Companion to this.
not to self project here… But these are the actions of someone suffering from bi repression…
Reblogged
For the anon who asked me for a couple reasons why Cas would be good for Dean, here’s a few off the top of my head:
1. To Cas, Dean is a role model. A good person, and Dean needs to be with someone who appreciates this. And reminds him of it.
2. Cas is forgiving, and Dean needs someone who will be gentle with him when he screws up.
3. He’s willing to go along with the silly things Dean wants to do
4. Cas is someone Dean can hunt with (he needs that, with everything good that Lisa was, that’s what was missing–the hunting partner aspect)
5. Cas allows Dean to take care of him. To Dean, taking care of people (acts of service) is a way he shows love.
6. Dean is willing to share, emotionally, with Cas, like he is with few other people.
7. Cas is willing to walk into death with Dean so Dean won’t have to be alone
8: He’s equally willing to stay behind so that Dean will have the comfort of knowing Sam won’t be alone
9. Dean trusts Cas to do the hard things
10. And most importantly, Cas makes Dean happy
That’s so damn true 🤝
🥺💙💚💙💚💙
Reblogged
Regarding Dean
“Okay, so, let’s… start with the basics.”
Long fingers tapped a rhythm on the side of the bathtub, and Dean blinked, working to recall how he ended up in a motel bathroom with this long-limbed, flowy-haired man. Memory stuff, right? Something was screwy with his memory.
“Your name is Dean Winchester.”
Dean huffed a laugh. “Like the rifle? Awesome.”
The man sitting next to him raised an eyebrow. “My name is Sam Winchester. I’m your brother.”
Dean gave the long-haired man an appraising look. “Baby brother?”
Sam’s entire face lit up. “Yes! You remembered!”
Dean shook his head. “You just have too much of a baby face to be older than me,” he said with a grin. Sam’s (baby) face fell a bit. Dean felt sort of bad, so he added, “Alright, man, keep going.” That seemed to cheer Sam up, and he forged ahead.
“Your mom, her name is Mary Winchester.”
Dean nodded curtly, but it felt like memorizing flash cards; he had no idea what this Mary looked like or how he felt about her. Even now, he could feel her name slipping away. He swallowed, hard, aware somehow that this was bad, but quickly forgetting why or for whom.
“Dean.” The voice was familiar, maybe, but when Dean looked into the speaker’s face, he couldn’t place it. “Dean, I’m Sam. Your brother.” Dean nodded, mouthing the words. Dean. Sam, brother. “Mary Winchester is your mother.” Mary, mother. Okay. Dean. Sam. Mary. “Is this — am I helping? There’s one more, if…”
Dean nodded, feeling a bit like he was clawing for air underwater. He knew he was losing himself, but he couldn’t remember how or why it mattered.
He nodded again, swifter, clinging to the names as he dug his fingernails into his palms. Dean. Sam. Mary.
“Cas.”
Dean froze. He didn’t know the name, he was sure of it, but… there was something there. Something deep. Cas. Who is Cas?
Dean didn’t even realize he had spoken the question aloud until the man — Dean? No, Sam — said, “Cas. Castiel. Cas is…”
Dean raised his eyes to meet Sam’s wide green ones. He was hesitating, his mouth opening and closing ever so slightly. Cas. Sam had been so quick to assign roles to everyone else: brother, mother. Who is Cas? Why is he different?
“Cas is… your best friend,” Sam said, haltingly. Dean narrowed his eyes at him, at his brother.
“How come I don’t believe you?” he asked, skepticism clear in his tone. Sam looked slightly shocked.
“You — you don’t?”
Dean stared at him more intensely. “What aren’t you telling me? Did I forget already?”
Sam shook his head, looking as though he were weighing his words. “No, it’s — You didn’t forget. You never knew, I don’t think, is more —”
There was a loud rap on the door to Dean’s right, and he startled, jumping back a bit. A woman’s voice came through: “Samuel, if you’re done in there, we really do need to get going.”
“Alright, Rowena, just — give us a second.” Dean watched the man — Sam — breathe a quick sigh, running a hand across his face. Then he focused his attention back on Dean. “I have to go. Try to remember those names, okay? I’ll be back soon, and then you’ll be —” He swallowed, hesitated. Then he stood, surprising Dean with his height, and placed a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.” He patted Dean’s shoulder, then pulled open the bathroom door and left the tiny room, shutting the door behind him.
Dean stared at the painted wood, already feeling the names slipping away. No. He pushed himself to stand, walking towards the glass pane helpfully labeled, ‘mirror.’
“You can do this,” he muttered, turning on the faucet and running his hands under the water. He splashed it on his face and registered that it was cold; he clung to that physical sensation as he fought off the sense that he was falling apart somehow.
He tilted his chin up until he was staring back at himself. His eyes were startlingly green. He had freckles.
Who was he?
“My name,” he heard his own voice croak out, distant and barely recognizable. “My name is Dean Winchester.” Good, good so far. What was next? “Sam in my brother,” he said in a rush, blinking until he could picture the man’s face in his mind, albeit fuzzy around the edges.
Next. He hesitated, adrift without a face to pair to the name, or a single memory to cling to. Christ, what was it? “My name is Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester is my brother. Mary Winchester is my mother.” He nodded, trying to categorize the feeling of the letters on his tongue even as they slipped away.
One more. There was one more, wasn’t there?
Cas.
Dean blinked, surprised that the name came to him easier this time. Cas. He tried to form the name is his mouth. “Cas. Cas is…” And then he stopped.
Cas is. Cas is what?
Sam. Sam told Dean what Cas is to him. He said it, Dean is sure of it, but something about it felt — wrong. Missing.
“Cas is…” Dean tried again, his voice soft. “Cas is my best friend.”
Cas is my best friend.
Sam had said… something. Something weird. But Dean couldn’t remember.
He dropped his head, breathing out a frustrated sigh. “My name is Dean Winchester,” he growled to the cold white beneath his hands — he couldn’t for the life of him think of what it was called. “Dean Winchester. Sam… Sam is my brother. Mary is my mother. Cas —”
Dean raised his eyes to meet the green ones of his reflection, and he sucked in a breath as something broke through the dam in his mind: blue.
He blinked, startled. Blue. Pure, deep, sparkling blue. Why did he know it? Why was that what echoed in his mind when he could hardly remember his own name?
“Cas,” he whispered to the mirror, and the sensation of blue came sharply back. Cas is blue, that specific blue that Dean remembered. Cas.
He drew in a deep breath, tightening his hold on the cold beneath his fingers. “Cas is…” But then he was blinking hard against the stinging sensation behind his eyes, startled by the realization that he was about to cry. It didn’t make any sense. None of it did, and he couldn’t remember —
“Come on,” he nearly shouted, watching his own reflection contort into something angry and scared. “Come on. My name is…” A terse breath through his nose. Come on. “My name is Dean Winchester. Sam is my brother. Mary is my mother. Cas is —”
Cas is what?
It hurt behind his ribs, like something was trying to push its way out of him, like — like he remembered. Like a part of him knew something, as deep as his core, and it was important, but —
When he raised his eyes again, they were glassy with tears. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know.”
—————————————————
“It’s the, uh. The shiny one —” Sam began. Dean rolled his eyes.
“Get in the car.” They took their familiar seats, accompanied by the familiar squeak of their doors shutting in sync. God, it felt good to remember, even just the little things.
Dean pulled out of the lot with practiced ease, smiling as he setting back against Baby’s seat. Sam looked over, smiling, too. “Better?”
“Aces.”
“And you really don’t remember, like, any of that?”
Dean shrugged. “Bits and pieces. Mostly the beginning stuff, and —” He waved his hand, gesturing vaguely toward his brother. “The stuff you were trying to get me to remember. That sort of stuck.”
Sam nodded, looking thoughtful. “Probably because you were trying so hard to remember it.” Dean hummed in agreement. “So you — remember most of that conversation?” Sam’s tone had changed, pitched too highly in the way it got when he was tiptoeing around something.
“Why?” Dean asked, immediately suspicious. “Something you wanted me to forget?”
“No, no, of course not, I just…” He paused, seemingly weighing his words. “I’m glad it worked, I guess. That you remember all of us.”
Dean let his lips tilt into a smile, recognizing the olive branch. “Yep. Sam is my brother, Mary is my mother, Cas is —” Dean hesitated for just a moment, barely a beat, but he felt Sam’s gaze stick to him like glue. “— My best friend,” Dean finished easily. “Got the whole gang.” He tilted his head towards Sam with a lopsided smile, and caught his brother’s thoughtful look just before it morphed into a smile of his own.
“Yeah,” Sam said softly. “Good. All the important people, right?”
Dean hummed in agreement, scanning the road before him, but his mind was far away. He remembered what Sam said, now: “You never knew.”
Never knew, huh? So that’s what Sammy thinks. Good, probably better that way. No reason to get him all excited when nothing… Well. Good.
It’s a long drive back home, and Dean thinks of blue eyes all the way.