2nd Official WAFF-a-thon - Main Thread!
And if we all could spread a little sunshine
All could lend a helping hand
We all would be a little closer
To the Promised Land
WAFFathon Official Thread
Welcome, everyone, to the second official WAFFathon, making the Internet a little happier. The premise behind the WAFFathon is simple: Fandom is great, but let's face it, it can get pretty dark ( Read more... )
All could lend a helping hand
We all would be a little closer
To the Promised Land
WAFFathon Official Thread
Welcome, everyone, to the second official WAFFathon, making the Internet a little happier. The premise behind the WAFFathon is simple: Fandom is great, but let's face it, it can get pretty dark ( Read more... )
“There isn’t beer in the car,” Castiel says mournfully, and he’s totally got his arm around Dean’s shoulders as he strokes the back of Dean’s neck. He is completely without game, but Dean will never, ever call him on it because he secretly finds it really endearing. However, this is not a statement of happy or awesomeness, which may lead to a neck-stroking ceasefire, and that’s just not okay. Fortunately, Dean has a solution.
“There’s a six-pack in the minifridge!” he says brightly, and stretches his leg out so they’re touching even more.
“Um, I’m gonna get my own room,” Sam says, and turns up the stereo in a gesture of finality. It’s like he thinks Dean’s going to argue or something, which, no.
Back at the motel, Sam actually does get his own room, after depositing them somewhere in the vicinity of Dean’s bed and grabbing his overnight bag.
“Bye Sammy,” Dean says warmly, walking him to the door, and Sam smiles and says, “Hey, you deserve this, okay? Have fun.”
“Thanks Mom,” Dean says, but he lets Sam hug him anyway, and somehow avoids the accompanying halfhearted punch in the direction of his gut.
After Sam’s gone, things have the potential to get awkward, except Castiel is all stretched out on Dean’s bed, looking drunk and happy and, as usual, curious. He’s not wearing his trench coat, and he’s holding out an open beer in Dean’s direction. In that moment, Dean just decides not to think about awkwardness, because let’s face it, Castiel is the most awkward person on the planet, or angel, whatever, and there’s no way he’ll ever call Dean on his social graces. So, Dean strides across the room, takes the beer, and sprawls out beside Cas on the bed.
“You do things for me,” Cas says, waving his own beer around as if to illustrate his point. He makes a little surprised noise when his shaken up beer overflows with foam, and Dean just grabs it and sucks the foam off the top, half giddy with the feeling that it’s okay to do this, with a man, with Castiel. It’s all for himself, he’s doing it just because he wants to, not because the world depends upon it or whatever, and the realization makes Dean feel all free and unfettered, like he can do absolutely anything.
“Yeah,” he says, once he has passed the beer back. “Sometimes I like to do things for you.”
“The angels aren’t like you,” Castiel says, and in that instant he’s on his side, staring over at Dean. “Nobody’s like you. I want to touch your face,” he adds, and Dean chokes for a second, but then says okay, reaching back to put his beer on the bedside table.
Castiel’s fingers trace over his brow in a slow, gentle path, and Dean rolls over onto his side to better accommodate him. “How’m I different?” he asks. It comes out soft, but Castiel is close enough to hear him.
“You’re nice,” he says. “You laugh at me, but I like it because it makes you look less sad. You don’t care about my obligations.” His look goes considering, and his hand stills, draped over Dean’s jaw, big and solid. “You are for me,” he says. “I’m sad when you’re sad. I want you to be happy. No one’s ever let me be that way before.”
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“Dean,” Castiel says seriously. “It would be an honor to make out with you.”
Really, Dean thinks, as he leans over and kisses Castiel, he’s the one who’s honored. Cas knows everything about him; the hunting, the betrayals, the secrets. He knows the history of the ways in which Dean’s been broken, and yet he’s here making reverent noises and parting his lips into Dean’ deepening kiss. The thought sends shivers coursing through him, and with it, the knowledge that Cas will never judge him, never hate him or leave him, or have to stay behind as Dean drives off to the next hunt. Best of all, Cas is strong, and there’s no way Dean can lead him into more danger than he’s already in, so there’s the usual guilt gone before it can even start.
It’s almost frightening that Dean can actually have this, something that makes him so happy, but he can, so he shifts closer, slipping into the bracket of Castiel’s arms and pressing up against his chest. Cas obviously loves him, and maybe that should be a scary thought but it isn’t at all. It’s just nice, just makes him feel warm and full and happy.
“Hey,” he says, murmuring against Castiel’s lips. “There’s lots of other stuff for us to try, but maybe we could wait? This is what I want right now.”
It feels really lame, but Cas doesn’t look anything short of adoring. “Yes Dean,” he says solemnly. “Tonight we will cuddle.”
“Oh my god,” Dean says. “You can never say that word again. Especially not to Sam.” He’s sort of belying his point by the way he’s shifting closer, but whatever, he has at least some pride.
Cas looks confused. “But that is what we’re doing, Dean.” He looks adorable, head cocked and expression inquisitive, and jesus, Dean really can’t say no to this guy.
“Okay Cas,” he says, “But only because I’m awesome.”
“Awesome,” Castiel echoes happily, tangling his legs up with Dean's and wrapping close around him, and it really, really is.
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SERIOUSLY IF THIS WAFFATHON DIES DED RIGHT HERE IT WILL BE A SUCCESS BECAUSE OF THIS FIC.
YOU ARE MY NEW BEST FRIEND. <3
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This was so AWESOME. I'm grinning like an idiot here! I must save this and then return to it whenever I have a bad day!
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