Idea work on 30_forbidden prompts
claim: probably dean/cas or just cas
Okay, so I have an idea for the prompts watch and afar, which is the whole guardian angel thing. Yeah. I want to do case!fic for dark. And... OOH! I can maybe use a piece of something I've already been working on for this. Hmm. I would like to do that dc_dystopia idea for this, maybe. But for which prompt? Maybe Forget. Actually, yeah, that would work out really well. Cool. I have the train scene written, and then I have an outline. So all I need to do, then, is... well, get the thing finished. So here is a piece of that:
Castiel looks out the window across from him, seeing nothing but the endless sea stretching out around them. The scenery varies so little it's hard to tell they're moving at all. Chuck smiles beside him.
"Where are the other passengers?" he asks.
Chuck looks at his watch. "We've been traveling a long time. I'm tired," he says, rolling the heels of his hands down his thighs. They're covered in denim, old jeans, and there is a soft sound as the skin moves across it. "I'm really tired. But we've gotta be there soon, right? Got to." He hums to himself, a few bars of a song Castiel can't quite remember. It makes him homesick, and he's not sure why.
As tired as Chuck says he is, he seems restless - excited. Castiel is not. He can't remember where he's going - or maybe he just doesn't know - but a tight pull in the cavity of his chest tells him he's made this trip before. They pass a little island, with two trees on it, a half-finished sandcastle between them. Castiel stares, but they go past it and soon he can't see it at all.
Castiel looks back at Chuck. "Where are the other passengers?"
Chuck’s eyes soften and go sympathetic. “Are you tired, Castiel? You look beat, man. Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
Cas shakes his head and Chuck just sighs.
“Whatever,” he says, “guess you’d know better than me. But you have to do something, it’s creepy how you just... sit there. Staring. Aren’t you bored? Let’s play ‘I Spy’ or I don’t know, twenty questions or something. I think I have a bag of marbles here.” He starts digging in the small green suitcase beside him.
Castiel shakes his head again, hoping Chuck realizes they can’t play marbles while on a moving train. “We’re not alone,” he says, looking down at his lap. That’s important, he knows it’s important, but he can’t remember why. “Where are the other passengers?”
“Hey.” Chuck scoots across the smooth, wooden bench, grabbing Castiel’s arm. His grip is tight. “Hey, Cas, come on. It’s okay. It’s okay, man.” He lets go and Castiel tries to breathe, but his lungs won’t expand. Spots dance in front of his eyes. “Take this,” Chuck says, opening Cas’ palm and setting a plain leather pouch there. “Remember, okay? That you’ve got it.”
“I can’t stay awake,” Cas says, and he feels his body slipping off his seat, but he can’t move, can’t stop it.
“Go to sleep,” Chuck says. “I, uh, I guess. I”ll wake you up when we get there.”
Also for Past I would like to incorporate the getting-married and past lives thing that I was working on for DCKink. Yeah. So here's what I have of that, plus a little bit extra!
“Okay.” Dean runs a hand through his hair as he paces back to the refrigerator, footfalls heavy, and opens the door. There’s already a half-full beer on the counter, though, and Dean glances at it absently before huffing and closing the door again, turning and leaning against it, shoving his hands in the pockets of his old, dark jeans. “Christ.”
“Worrying about it won’t make it any easier,” Cas says from his place at the table. Dean shoots him a sneer and Cas’ expression tightens, eyes glinting impatience. Dean’s been fretting for a little longer than he’ll ever admit to, and there’s a vague, optimistic idea in his head that if he worries and stalls long enough, Cas will offer to tell Sam and Bobby himself. But Cas gives him another look and says “You’re going to have to tell them.”
“I know,” he says, looking away, “but why can’t - “
“You have to tell them, Dean,” Cas says, cutting him off before Dean could even get his question out. He is beginning to look exasperated and probably knows what Dean’s thinking - and since he's as stubborn a bastard as Dean is he's not going to let him get away with it. “I don’t know why you’re so worried.” His voice goes sharp and Dean can tell he’s starting to get pissy.
“I’m not worried,” Dean says, which he is pretty sure is true, but Cas is giving him a flat look, calling bullshit, and Dean rankles, shifting in discomfort and feeling a little defensive. “I’m... not worried,” he says again, and it sounds even less convincing than the first time. “I know Sam and Bobby will be happy for us.” The ring Cas picked out for him - plain, silver, engraving done in a groove on the top and bottom - feels heavy on his finger, and he turns it, the silver cool against his skin.
“Yes,” Cas agrees, “they will,” and he’s looking at Dean like he’s being stupid, like he’s making a bigger deal out of it than it really has to be. He stands up, padding as silently as a cat over to Dean. His hair is mussed and he’s wearing some of Dean’s old clothes - a t-shirt and sweatpants - as pajamas.
There’s a lump in Dean’s throat and he thinks carefully around profound bond and wedding and domestic partnership and how much that scares him and how much it doesn't. Jesus, he thinks, he loves Cas so much it still manages to surprise him sometimes.
Cas is pushing up next to him, and his fingers wrap around Dean’s wrist. “You’re being stupid,” he says and he leans up, lips soft against Dean’s cheek. “Stop it.”
Dean can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at Cas’ expression, and Cas huffs at him, ruffling up the back of his hair with one lazy hand. “I’m going to bed,” he says. “Don’t wake me up when you come in.”
There is something to be said for it, Dean thinks, when he does it anyway, and Cas doesn’t really mind.
: : :
Dean saunters into the kitchen mid-morning the next day, his feet bare and cold, flannel pants riding low on his hips. There is a hickey on his collarbone, that he probably spent longer examining in the mirror than he really needed to - and somehow, with his announcement, it feels newly obscene, though it’s not like Sam and Bobby don’t know about him and Cas. And it isn’t like they haven’t been caught in less than savory situations before. Sam had walked in on Dean blowing Cas once, and for fuck’s sake he still hadn’t let that go.
More than the sex, though, Sam and Bobby know about the feelings, and after the mocking he suspects Sam will put him through, they’re both going to say something close to “It’s about time.”
Sam and Bobby are both sitting at the table, in varying states of breakfast. Bobby takes a sip of his coffee, mustache twitching at the lip of his mug, looking surlier than usual in the soft, mid-morning light. Dean’s half certain there’s more than just coffee in his mug, too - not that he has any room to judge. Sam has the prissiest breakfast Dean's ever seen, two slices of dry toast and half a grapefruit sitting on a plate in front of him, an empty glass with a ring of milk in the bottom sitting off to one side. He seems sleepy, his eyes blinking closed, head dipping down to his chest, and he has to push the hair that hangs down out of his face at least twice while Dean is watching him.
“So, uh,” he starts inarticulately, breaking the quiet. Sam and Bobby both look over at him. He clears his throat and rubs his shoulder. “Cas and I were talking.”
Bobby looks unimpressed. “You’re having conversations now, huh?” he asks, and Dean takes the opportunity to go pour himself some coffee. “Well ain’t that exciting news.”
Sam hides a laugh with a quick cough. Dean sighs and takes a sip of his coffee, relishing the heat that floods down his throat. He leans against the counter, ankles crossed, going for nonchalant. Sam’s eyebrows go up and it was probably useless to think he’d look anything other than fucking chalant. Whatever the hell that is. He looks off to his right, avoiding the way Sam’s trying to catch his eye. “Cas... sort of proposed.”
He thumbs the ring again while Sam and Bobby exchange incredulous looks. “You and Cas are... engaged? To be married?” Sam asks. Dean levels him with a bitchface Sam could be proud of, because yes, it’s pretty straightforward that’s what a proposal means, and Sam grins, looking sheepish, his shoulders going up around his ears. “That’s great, man,” he says, and it’s equal parts teasing and happy, so Dean’s grateful for that one.
Bobby just snorts into his coffee and says “He finally decide to make an honest man out of you?”
"Oh ha, ha," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "Real funny, Bobby."
Bobby narrows his eyes and clears his throat. "And before you ask - no, I'm not going to walk you down the aisle."
Sam doesn't even try to hide how amused he is, grinning broadly and laughing deep. Dean grumbles a little, some cursory expletives under his breath. He pulls out a box of cereal from the cabinet and dumps some in a bowl, then splashes a quick serving of milk on top.
I have another good idea, though I'm not sure for which prompt yet: but Sam and Cas are off having nerdy bonding adventure time and something in wherever they are really drains Cas - and he's super weak, it's hard for him just to be upright. So Sam is sort of having to protect him because whatever's affecting Cas doesn't do anything to humans. But of course Sam doesn't come out unscathed, and when they get back Dean shows his concern for them by reaming Cas out, just totally busting his chops for letting anything happen to Sam. And then of course Sam is like "Dean you're such a dick" because Cas did the very best he could. Heh. I might be able to make that work for the prompt Hidden. We'll see.
Okay, so I have an idea for the prompts watch and afar, which is the whole guardian angel thing. Yeah. I want to do case!fic for dark. And... OOH! I can maybe use a piece of something I've already been working on for this. Hmm. I would like to do that dc_dystopia idea for this, maybe. But for which prompt? Maybe Forget. Actually, yeah, that would work out really well. Cool. I have the train scene written, and then I have an outline. So all I need to do, then, is... well, get the thing finished. So here is a piece of that:
Castiel looks out the window across from him, seeing nothing but the endless sea stretching out around them. The scenery varies so little it's hard to tell they're moving at all. Chuck smiles beside him.
"Where are the other passengers?" he asks.
Chuck looks at his watch. "We've been traveling a long time. I'm tired," he says, rolling the heels of his hands down his thighs. They're covered in denim, old jeans, and there is a soft sound as the skin moves across it. "I'm really tired. But we've gotta be there soon, right? Got to." He hums to himself, a few bars of a song Castiel can't quite remember. It makes him homesick, and he's not sure why.
As tired as Chuck says he is, he seems restless - excited. Castiel is not. He can't remember where he's going - or maybe he just doesn't know - but a tight pull in the cavity of his chest tells him he's made this trip before. They pass a little island, with two trees on it, a half-finished sandcastle between them. Castiel stares, but they go past it and soon he can't see it at all.
Castiel looks back at Chuck. "Where are the other passengers?"
Chuck’s eyes soften and go sympathetic. “Are you tired, Castiel? You look beat, man. Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you up when we get there.”
Cas shakes his head and Chuck just sighs.
“Whatever,” he says, “guess you’d know better than me. But you have to do something, it’s creepy how you just... sit there. Staring. Aren’t you bored? Let’s play ‘I Spy’ or I don’t know, twenty questions or something. I think I have a bag of marbles here.” He starts digging in the small green suitcase beside him.
Castiel shakes his head again, hoping Chuck realizes they can’t play marbles while on a moving train. “We’re not alone,” he says, looking down at his lap. That’s important, he knows it’s important, but he can’t remember why. “Where are the other passengers?”
“Hey.” Chuck scoots across the smooth, wooden bench, grabbing Castiel’s arm. His grip is tight. “Hey, Cas, come on. It’s okay. It’s okay, man.” He lets go and Castiel tries to breathe, but his lungs won’t expand. Spots dance in front of his eyes. “Take this,” Chuck says, opening Cas’ palm and setting a plain leather pouch there. “Remember, okay? That you’ve got it.”
“I can’t stay awake,” Cas says, and he feels his body slipping off his seat, but he can’t move, can’t stop it.
“Go to sleep,” Chuck says. “I, uh, I guess. I”ll wake you up when we get there.”
Also for Past I would like to incorporate the getting-married and past lives thing that I was working on for DCKink. Yeah. So here's what I have of that, plus a little bit extra!
“Okay.” Dean runs a hand through his hair as he paces back to the refrigerator, footfalls heavy, and opens the door. There’s already a half-full beer on the counter, though, and Dean glances at it absently before huffing and closing the door again, turning and leaning against it, shoving his hands in the pockets of his old, dark jeans. “Christ.”
“Worrying about it won’t make it any easier,” Cas says from his place at the table. Dean shoots him a sneer and Cas’ expression tightens, eyes glinting impatience. Dean’s been fretting for a little longer than he’ll ever admit to, and there’s a vague, optimistic idea in his head that if he worries and stalls long enough, Cas will offer to tell Sam and Bobby himself. But Cas gives him another look and says “You’re going to have to tell them.”
“I know,” he says, looking away, “but why can’t - “
“You have to tell them, Dean,” Cas says, cutting him off before Dean could even get his question out. He is beginning to look exasperated and probably knows what Dean’s thinking - and since he's as stubborn a bastard as Dean is he's not going to let him get away with it. “I don’t know why you’re so worried.” His voice goes sharp and Dean can tell he’s starting to get pissy.
“I’m not worried,” Dean says, which he is pretty sure is true, but Cas is giving him a flat look, calling bullshit, and Dean rankles, shifting in discomfort and feeling a little defensive. “I’m... not worried,” he says again, and it sounds even less convincing than the first time. “I know Sam and Bobby will be happy for us.” The ring Cas picked out for him - plain, silver, engraving done in a groove on the top and bottom - feels heavy on his finger, and he turns it, the silver cool against his skin.
“Yes,” Cas agrees, “they will,” and he’s looking at Dean like he’s being stupid, like he’s making a bigger deal out of it than it really has to be. He stands up, padding as silently as a cat over to Dean. His hair is mussed and he’s wearing some of Dean’s old clothes - a t-shirt and sweatpants - as pajamas.
There’s a lump in Dean’s throat and he thinks carefully around profound bond and wedding and domestic partnership and how much that scares him and how much it doesn't. Jesus, he thinks, he loves Cas so much it still manages to surprise him sometimes.
Cas is pushing up next to him, and his fingers wrap around Dean’s wrist. “You’re being stupid,” he says and he leans up, lips soft against Dean’s cheek. “Stop it.”
Dean can’t help the grin that spreads across his face at Cas’ expression, and Cas huffs at him, ruffling up the back of his hair with one lazy hand. “I’m going to bed,” he says. “Don’t wake me up when you come in.”
There is something to be said for it, Dean thinks, when he does it anyway, and Cas doesn’t really mind.
: : :
Dean saunters into the kitchen mid-morning the next day, his feet bare and cold, flannel pants riding low on his hips. There is a hickey on his collarbone, that he probably spent longer examining in the mirror than he really needed to - and somehow, with his announcement, it feels newly obscene, though it’s not like Sam and Bobby don’t know about him and Cas. And it isn’t like they haven’t been caught in less than savory situations before. Sam had walked in on Dean blowing Cas once, and for fuck’s sake he still hadn’t let that go.
More than the sex, though, Sam and Bobby know about the feelings, and after the mocking he suspects Sam will put him through, they’re both going to say something close to “It’s about time.”
Sam and Bobby are both sitting at the table, in varying states of breakfast. Bobby takes a sip of his coffee, mustache twitching at the lip of his mug, looking surlier than usual in the soft, mid-morning light. Dean’s half certain there’s more than just coffee in his mug, too - not that he has any room to judge. Sam has the prissiest breakfast Dean's ever seen, two slices of dry toast and half a grapefruit sitting on a plate in front of him, an empty glass with a ring of milk in the bottom sitting off to one side. He seems sleepy, his eyes blinking closed, head dipping down to his chest, and he has to push the hair that hangs down out of his face at least twice while Dean is watching him.
“So, uh,” he starts inarticulately, breaking the quiet. Sam and Bobby both look over at him. He clears his throat and rubs his shoulder. “Cas and I were talking.”
Bobby looks unimpressed. “You’re having conversations now, huh?” he asks, and Dean takes the opportunity to go pour himself some coffee. “Well ain’t that exciting news.”
Sam hides a laugh with a quick cough. Dean sighs and takes a sip of his coffee, relishing the heat that floods down his throat. He leans against the counter, ankles crossed, going for nonchalant. Sam’s eyebrows go up and it was probably useless to think he’d look anything other than fucking chalant. Whatever the hell that is. He looks off to his right, avoiding the way Sam’s trying to catch his eye. “Cas... sort of proposed.”
He thumbs the ring again while Sam and Bobby exchange incredulous looks. “You and Cas are... engaged? To be married?” Sam asks. Dean levels him with a bitchface Sam could be proud of, because yes, it’s pretty straightforward that’s what a proposal means, and Sam grins, looking sheepish, his shoulders going up around his ears. “That’s great, man,” he says, and it’s equal parts teasing and happy, so Dean’s grateful for that one.
Bobby just snorts into his coffee and says “He finally decide to make an honest man out of you?”
"Oh ha, ha," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "Real funny, Bobby."
Bobby narrows his eyes and clears his throat. "And before you ask - no, I'm not going to walk you down the aisle."
Sam doesn't even try to hide how amused he is, grinning broadly and laughing deep. Dean grumbles a little, some cursory expletives under his breath. He pulls out a box of cereal from the cabinet and dumps some in a bowl, then splashes a quick serving of milk on top.
I have another good idea, though I'm not sure for which prompt yet: but Sam and Cas are off having nerdy bonding adventure time and something in wherever they are really drains Cas - and he's super weak, it's hard for him just to be upright. So Sam is sort of having to protect him because whatever's affecting Cas doesn't do anything to humans. But of course Sam doesn't come out unscathed, and when they get back Dean shows his concern for them by reaming Cas out, just totally busting his chops for letting anything happen to Sam. And then of course Sam is like "Dean you're such a dick" because Cas did the very best he could. Heh. I might be able to make that work for the prompt Hidden. We'll see.