Dean/Cas Big Bang: Until The Lost Become The Found, Dean/Castiel/future!Castiel, NC-17 - Part Seven
Title: Until The Lost Become The Found
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: All possible variations of Dean/Castiel/future!Castiel.
A/N: An AU that picks up immediately after 'The End'. Also, the title is based on this song, because it's my quintessential future!Cas song.
Summary: Although Dean may have been unable to save his brother in that hellish future world, there's a certain fallen angel that Castiel might just be able to rescue in time.
Word count: 36,000
Warnings: Drug abuse, past drug abuse, alcohol abuse, violence, memories of Hell (flashbacks to torture), implied prostitution.
Also, amazing artwork by peach_gurl can be can be found over here.
- - -
The next morning finds Dean and Castiel sitting at the kitchen table, while Cas putters around wearing only jeans and an apron, apparently attempting to create a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. Dean is unable to believe that this moment is actually part of his life, and his heart seems to be skipping a few critical beats here and there, as though it knows that this morning breakfast routine is almost too domestic for Dean to take, especially considering that the angel version of Castiel doesn’t even need to eat.
“Relax, Dean. The eggs aren’t gonna bite.”
Dean wants to scowl at the human version of Castiel, who’s momentarily stopped what he’s doing to shoot Dean a grin, but there seems to be something truly happy behind Cas’ eyes, and - for the first time that he can remember - Cas’ wide smile doesn’t look like a world of hurt and fake confidence, and it doesn’t make Dean feel like something’s breaking apart inside him.
“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t poison me with your attempt at coffee, alright?”
“No need for concern. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”
It’s truly the understatement of the century, and when Cas quirks another grin at him before turning back to the stove, Dean can’t help but smile back before he slides his eyes to the angel, who’s all perfectly done up in his tie and trench coat, sitting in silence with his long fingers curled up on the table in front of him. Immediately aware of the feeling of eyes on him, Castiel looks up to meet his gaze, and Dean’s questions and concerns die on the tip of his tongue. There’s no need for words to convey the happiness Dean can in Castiel’s expression, and when the angel’s lips turn up just slightly at the edges - a minute curve of contentment, followed by a splash of affection in his eyes, much like that horrible night when Castiel had rescued Dean from Zachariah’s clutches - Dean feels his own lips curve in return, and suddenly everything they’ve been through seems to have been worth it to get them to this point.
Thankfully, before his brain can get any sappier than it’s already become, the rumble of the Impala cuts through the easy silence that’s hanging over the kitchen, and the sound of Sammy’s loud voice drifts towards the house, mixed with Bobby hollering about going to check something in the shed. Dean gnaws on his lip for a moment before he glances between the two beings in front of him, and although the angel has the grace to look slightly embarrassed, the smirk that Cas shoots him is pretty close to wicked.
“Come on, Dean. You’re covered in hickeys and I’m making scrambled eggs. There’s no getting out of this one.”
Dean can actually feel the blood rush to his face, but before he can snark out a response, Sam comes stomping into the kitchen, and whatever his brother was about to say trails off into an odd gurgling sound as he takes in the scene in front of them. Dean has a moment of wanting to sink into the floor and die, because between Cas’ topless chef routine, the blush that’s colouring Castiel’s expression of contentment, and the bruises that he knows are decorating his own skin, Dean is pretty sure that all three of them couldn’t look more fucked-out if they tried.
“Uh, hi.”
Sam’s only response is to gape at him for a long moment, before his jaw snaps shut with an audible click and he turns to stare at Cas, who’s casually leaning against the counter wearing Bobby’s old ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron over his bare chest, sporting a filthy smirk that could make a pornstar blush.
“Hey there, Sam. Miss us?”
Sam gapes at them for a moment longer, before he makes that odd choking sound again and puts his hands over his eyes, as though trying to block out the entire world around him.
“Oh, god, do I even want to know.”
“Probably not. Though you might want to go warn Bobby. Not much seems to rattle him, but an unholy gay threesome taking place under his roof might be a bit much for the guy.”
Sam squeaks out a protest and covers his ears, muttering about scarring and too much information, and when Dean shoots Cas what he hopes is scathing glare, Cas just grins unrepentantly at him and flicks a piece of egg in his direction before turning back to the stove. Before Dean can start apologizing to Sam on behalf of all the broken boundaries in this kitchen, Sam hesitantly uncovers his ears and holds up a hand, still not managing to look at any of them.
“Look, alright. I’m happy for all of you. Really, I am. Just - no details, please?”
Before Dean can verbalize his whole-hearted agreement, Cas turns away from the stove with the skillet still in hand, casually moving around the eggs as he raises an eyebrow at the pan in front of him.
“No promises. But I bring food as a peace offering. Good enough for now?”
Still not quite managing to look anyone in the eye, Sam makes a sound that could maybe be considered long-suffering agreement, and then he sits himself down at the table, his expression similar to someone who’s just seen a kitten get stepped on. Dean can feel a reluctant grin start to sneak across his face, and as he glances around the tiny kitchen, taking in the sounds of Bobby hollering something from the front porch, the welcome sight of his little brother’s bitch face, the sounds of Cas cursing at something on the stove, the serene image of Castiel sitting calm and composed at the kitchen table, still wearing that tiny curve around the edges of his lips -
Well, they might not yet have a plan to kill the Devil, but for as long as the four other people in this building are still alive, Dean knows that he has every reason to never ever stop fighting to save this world.
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: All possible variations of Dean/Castiel/future!Castiel.
A/N: An AU that picks up immediately after 'The End'. Also, the title is based on this song, because it's my quintessential future!Cas song.
Summary: Although Dean may have been unable to save his brother in that hellish future world, there's a certain fallen angel that Castiel might just be able to rescue in time.
Word count: 36,000
Warnings: Drug abuse, past drug abuse, alcohol abuse, violence, memories of Hell (flashbacks to torture), implied prostitution.
Also, amazing artwork by peach_gurl can be can be found over here.
- - -
The next morning finds Dean and Castiel sitting at the kitchen table, while Cas putters around wearing only jeans and an apron, apparently attempting to create a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. Dean is unable to believe that this moment is actually part of his life, and his heart seems to be skipping a few critical beats here and there, as though it knows that this morning breakfast routine is almost too domestic for Dean to take, especially considering that the angel version of Castiel doesn’t even need to eat.
“Relax, Dean. The eggs aren’t gonna bite.”
Dean wants to scowl at the human version of Castiel, who’s momentarily stopped what he’s doing to shoot Dean a grin, but there seems to be something truly happy behind Cas’ eyes, and - for the first time that he can remember - Cas’ wide smile doesn’t look like a world of hurt and fake confidence, and it doesn’t make Dean feel like something’s breaking apart inside him.
“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t poison me with your attempt at coffee, alright?”
“No need for concern. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”
It’s truly the understatement of the century, and when Cas quirks another grin at him before turning back to the stove, Dean can’t help but smile back before he slides his eyes to the angel, who’s all perfectly done up in his tie and trench coat, sitting in silence with his long fingers curled up on the table in front of him. Immediately aware of the feeling of eyes on him, Castiel looks up to meet his gaze, and Dean’s questions and concerns die on the tip of his tongue. There’s no need for words to convey the happiness Dean can in Castiel’s expression, and when the angel’s lips turn up just slightly at the edges - a minute curve of contentment, followed by a splash of affection in his eyes, much like that horrible night when Castiel had rescued Dean from Zachariah’s clutches - Dean feels his own lips curve in return, and suddenly everything they’ve been through seems to have been worth it to get them to this point.
Thankfully, before his brain can get any sappier than it’s already become, the rumble of the Impala cuts through the easy silence that’s hanging over the kitchen, and the sound of Sammy’s loud voice drifts towards the house, mixed with Bobby hollering about going to check something in the shed. Dean gnaws on his lip for a moment before he glances between the two beings in front of him, and although the angel has the grace to look slightly embarrassed, the smirk that Cas shoots him is pretty close to wicked.
“Come on, Dean. You’re covered in hickeys and I’m making scrambled eggs. There’s no getting out of this one.”
Dean can actually feel the blood rush to his face, but before he can snark out a response, Sam comes stomping into the kitchen, and whatever his brother was about to say trails off into an odd gurgling sound as he takes in the scene in front of them. Dean has a moment of wanting to sink into the floor and die, because between Cas’ topless chef routine, the blush that’s colouring Castiel’s expression of contentment, and the bruises that he knows are decorating his own skin, Dean is pretty sure that all three of them couldn’t look more fucked-out if they tried.
“Uh, hi.”
Sam’s only response is to gape at him for a long moment, before his jaw snaps shut with an audible click and he turns to stare at Cas, who’s casually leaning against the counter wearing Bobby’s old ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron over his bare chest, sporting a filthy smirk that could make a pornstar blush.
“Hey there, Sam. Miss us?”
Sam gapes at them for a moment longer, before he makes that odd choking sound again and puts his hands over his eyes, as though trying to block out the entire world around him.
“Oh, god, do I even want to know.”
“Probably not. Though you might want to go warn Bobby. Not much seems to rattle him, but an unholy gay threesome taking place under his roof might be a bit much for the guy.”
Sam squeaks out a protest and covers his ears, muttering about scarring and too much information, and when Dean shoots Cas what he hopes is scathing glare, Cas just grins unrepentantly at him and flicks a piece of egg in his direction before turning back to the stove. Before Dean can start apologizing to Sam on behalf of all the broken boundaries in this kitchen, Sam hesitantly uncovers his ears and holds up a hand, still not managing to look at any of them.
“Look, alright. I’m happy for all of you. Really, I am. Just - no details, please?”
Before Dean can verbalize his whole-hearted agreement, Cas turns away from the stove with the skillet still in hand, casually moving around the eggs as he raises an eyebrow at the pan in front of him.
“No promises. But I bring food as a peace offering. Good enough for now?”
Still not quite managing to look anyone in the eye, Sam makes a sound that could maybe be considered long-suffering agreement, and then he sits himself down at the table, his expression similar to someone who’s just seen a kitten get stepped on. Dean can feel a reluctant grin start to sneak across his face, and as he glances around the tiny kitchen, taking in the sounds of Bobby hollering something from the front porch, the welcome sight of his little brother’s bitch face, the sounds of Cas cursing at something on the stove, the serene image of Castiel sitting calm and composed at the kitchen table, still wearing that tiny curve around the edges of his lips -
Well, they might not yet have a plan to kill the Devil, but for as long as the four other people in this building are still alive, Dean knows that he has every reason to never ever stop fighting to save this world.