#destiel drabble
Don’t wake the baby is an easy thing to say, but a hard thing to do.
Sleepless nights turn into sleepy mornings regularly these days. Instead of making a pot of coffee first thing, Dean warms a bottle of formula. The war room has been taken over by a playpen and they baby-proofed the goddamn firing range.
Maybe Dean’s not getting a lot of sleep and his life has been turned on its head, but all of that means nothing whenever Dean rounds a corner and sees Cas with Jack in his arms. It’s kind of the best thing he’s ever seen.
And then Jack starts crawling.
PB 100 Prompt Fill - Husk
In the small hours of the morning, Sam sneaks around the bunker tidying up after his brother.
No, that’s not quite right: He sneaks around tidying up after the husk of a person that used to be his brother.
Sam can’t remember ever seeing Dean like this, so completely beside himself with grief he can barely function. Dean’s fine if he’s got a weapon in his hand and something to hunt. He can run on autopilot like that for weeks at a time; Sam’s seen it. But in their downtime? Dean is three sheets to the wind by the time lunch rolls around, and who knows when was the last time he showered.
No, Dean without Castiel isn’t Sam’s big brother. He’s something else entirely.
For someone who hates chick-flick moments, Dean can be remarkably sappy. Tonight is no exception, and Castiel smiles as he opens the gift that’s been left in his hotel room.
Hey, Cas. I’m no good at fancy love letters or whatever, so here’s something better. I hope you like it, and I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
Dean.
Inside the package is a cassette player and a tape. The label simply reads: I love you.
Castiel takes a moment to blink back his tears and reread the note, then sits down, puts in the tape, and begins to listen.
On nights like this, when everything feels overwhelming, Castiel enjoys coming to the roof where it’s quiet and peaceful—just him and the vast emptiness of the sky.
Tonight is one such night, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Watching the stars has always calmed his mind, and tonight is no different.
Castiel loses track of how long he stays there, deep in his own mind, until the silence is broken by careful footsteps.
“Thought I’d find you up here,” Dean says quietly as he sits down.
They don’t talk after that—just lie side-by-side, looking up at the stars, together.
Dean knows what people see when they’re working cases. Cas fills out a suit pretty well (really well, actually, why did he hide all those muscles under a trench coat for years?) and his blue eyes are all kinds of piercing, and that paired with his gravelly voice makes him appear stoic and maybe a little imposing to people they interview.
But Dean knows the other side of Cas, too, what he’s like when he trades his fed suit for a hoodie and an old pair of Dean’s sweatpants, how he is when he’s not angling for information but is instead curled up against Dean in their bed with reading glasses and sock feet.
It’s kinda the best thing ever.
Living in their new farmhouse, sun streaming in through the windows, white curtains in the kitchen and a wide front porch, has been magical. Cas loves waking up in the morning to a warm bed, his husband next to him, their dog jumping on the bed.
He does notlove the coffee grinder.
Cas prefers to wake up slowly and languidly, to patter around the house getting breakfast and a cup of tea ready, to stand on the porch and look at the breeze buffeting the tall grasses.
Dean prefers fresh-ground coffee almost as soon as he wakes up.
“Do you haveto do this every morning?” Cas says, a few months into living in the farmhouse. He knows he’s being over grouchy, but he doesn’t like that Dean leaves their bed to make a bunch of noise.
“Fresh ground coffee is better, Cas.” Dean pours water into the coffee maker and shuts it, turning it on.
“You couldn’t grind it the night before?”
“I’ve got other things to grind at night, Cas.” Dean is grinning at him.“Don’t try to flirt with me. I still hate the coffee grinder.”
“But you love me.”
And that’s true. Cas loves Dean more than anything, loves that they have a chance to have a happy life together. They have sunlight and a place of their own and each other. He supposes that part of love is compromise and putting up with the godforsaken coffee grinder in the mornings.
(Although Cas is still going to figure out how to strategically get rid of it. Maybe he can give it to Sam.)
Hello, beautiful people, I just hit 700 followers!
To celebrate, because I’m back on my DeanCas bull shit and #cantstopwontstop, send me asks with your headcanons or mini prompts, and I’ll write you a drabble!
Hello, beautiful people, I just hit 700 followers!
To celebrate, because I’m back on my DeanCas bull shit and #cantstopwontstop, send me asks with your headcanons or mini prompts, and I’ll write you a drabble!
Reblogging if you want to send me fix-it headcanons, fix-it prompts, Heaven prompts, etc.
SEND ME THINGS WE’RE IN THIS TOGETHER!
