The Fact That I See This Post Just Now, Go On Insta And See Mishas Story WHERE HE SAYS TI AMO!!!!

The fact that I see this post just now, go on Insta and see Misha‘s story WHERE HE SAYS TI AMO!!!!

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?!

SORRY. AND THANK YOU. 

I want to thank you all for making this fandom fun, crazy, intense and full of amazing and talented people.

Since all the chaos i put you all through i feel like a behind the scenes is the least i can do or you can call it my classic villain long ass annoying explanation.

And yeah, I, because i’m one (1) stupid ass bitch.

What started this?

Well, i was obviously angry for everything.

Then Misha posted a video where he threw the “rogue translator” under the bus and said “But I’m confident you guys can sort that part out as your writing, art, and imaginations play the story out past the last frames we filmed.“

And so i did.

That one line fueled so much anger in me, because after everything, we really do need to fix it ourselves? Then watch me do it. In this moment i got basically possessed by revenge, anger and inspiration. Many of you figured out how i did it but let me walk you through it! I downloaded the first confession video i could find on youtube, decided the part i wanted to dub and started digging. I looked up all supernatural scripts, then i had to go to Vampire diaries and whatever the frick that legions spinoff was, then all the Twilight movies, then One Tree Hill, Marley & I and so on. It was pure suffering. Each time i found a matching word i had to check the episode to find out if the intonation was right, if there was music, or if the dubber even had the same tone of voice so i went to a lot of youtube clips and streamings that i absolutely didnt want to watch. After 24 hours i had heard so many “ti amo” and “castiel” i started to hear them when editing the background. In the end, of all the stuff i found most of it was trash and not worth to be on this leak, so i had to dig again. And i found it, the “i love you”, it comes from The Office, the PDA episode. I still feel bad about putting that one there but it was the only one that somehow worked wit the lipsync (Yeah, i also looked at that, what the fuck is wrong with me?). While as for the “anch’io” that dean says it comes from the 2x20 and the so much loved and apreciated “Castiel" and “i’m sorry” is from the 8x17. So yeah i worked so much for nothing, but i was still proud of what i had.   (you can now imagine a montage of me trying to edit out the background music for hours from random voice clips just to throw them all away in the end) As for the background music i zoomed in as much as possible and basically hand stitched the music to make it sound seamless, and GOD Yes i even went through the whole original soundtrack to see if there was anything i could use to just slap and replace but obvs not, so back to hand stitching and hearing voices for like 2-3 hours. it was now 8 am and i heard that clip so many times it didnt make sense anymore, so i slept for like, three hours before waking up with the worst idea i ever had. I was running on like, a total of 5 hours of sleep in two days because i also had a fever and ANYWAY. I thought “what if i make this real, like, real real” Thats when the LEAK idea was born, that same morning of the 27. I did some googling, i looked up a in studio picture and saw the counter, that i couldnt recreate with any program i had (btw, i only used imovie for this disaster) i tried them all and at that point i just wanted it to end so i was  FUCK THIS. FUCK. And went to youtube, and, well. I found what i was sure was gonna get me busted. This. When i put this in the video i knew someone was gonna get me, and i was 70% sure it would have been this. Then, i slapped everything together and decided what to do with the logo. So i did the most logical thing and googled “remove watermark from video“ and this is the 30% of the other thing that would have gotten me busted, because it was crap and obvious but i was running on zero sleep and my brain was on fire and i was not thinking anymore at that point. The video was done, and now i just had to put it on my tv (AND I WANT TO MAKE THIS CLEAR, I READ ALL OF YOUR POSTS AND COMMENTS AND CALLING MY POOR TV OLD AND ANCIENT HURT ME WAY MORE THAN ALL THE OTHER THINGS YOU GUYS CALLED ME, but i guess its fair) i turned on my ps4 and went on this cursed blog where i already posted the hd version of the video, i made a recording of the tv and then deleted the hd one and posted the phone recorded one. Spammed it at random people that were online at the time (according to tumblr) and waited. I want also to say that after watching this clip an infinite number of times that the ORIGINAL editing si absolute trash, there are music skips and cgi bugs, then the camera cuts are absolutely random and they 100& cut a shit ton of video, and took away some random lines says when thrown on the gorund. And in this moment i was thinking about the CW, about how they buried our gays again. But that grave is big enough for everyone working on that network spreading hate, homophobia, racism ableism and so on. Your time will come too.  Anyway, when i started to come to my sense and wonder if what i did was right or wrong. I still don’t know if i would do it again. I feel like i was giving hope, i really did, because if this lie could hold a bit longer, then it would be real for a moment more. I’m sorry for making anyone feel bad about this, i really am, if its of any consolation i went through hell and i will never blame anyone for hating me. I just couldn’t make this fandom end on such a bittersweet note, not like that. I hope that whoever tried to debunk this had some fun, and maybe made some good memories with friends over this.

Thank you everyone for debunking this, you were all amazing.  I will miss this fandom.

This is just beautiful! Perfection! So fluffy! I‘m gonna cry now😭💚💙

on the correlation between weariness and bravery

to finish off my follower celebration! free space bonus day! based on @faithroad 's prompt "sleepy" which I turned into dean pining. mid to late seasons, no empty deal, happy ending.

2.5k words — read on ao3 or below

Dean kinda regrets not making Sam drive. Kinda.

Sam is the one who insisted on hauling ass and making it back home tonight. Sam is not the one with the fucked-up ankle. He's the one who should be sitting at the wheel at 3 am, struggling to keep his eyes open, instead of sprawled out in the backseat snoring like a damn tractor.

But no. It’s Dean driving. And it’s 'cause he wanted to sit next to Cas. 'Cause the hunt was bad and the wolves were good, and one of them had Cas by the neck at one point, and Dean–

Well, that werewolf is dead now. And Cas is fine. But Dean just… needs him close. At least ‘til they get home.

(He's also the one driving 'cause he's the best damn big brother on the face of the Earth, okay?)

If he’s being honest with himself, Dean always wants to sit next to Cas. But they have a routine by now; Dean drives, Sam sits shotgun, Cas in the back. Dean usually doesn’t fight it. Enforces it, actually.

Tonight he let that change. He asked Sam to sit in the back. There's more to it than just the close call though, and if Dean let himself think about it for more than a second, he'd know why. Deep down, he does know why.

Dean is scared. He's scared of losing Cas and he's sick of almost losing him, of the constant scares now that his grace is low and he's not as invincible as he used to be. If something were to happen to Cas (again), and Dean didn't spend every second with him that he could…

He doesn't want to think about it. He's too tired for that right now.

In fact, that’s probably all it is. Yeah, that's it. The hunt was long and crappy and they've barely slept, and Dean is too exhausted to hold himself back. Too sleepy to force his desires down, to pretend that he doesn’t want…

That he doesn’t want.

He allows himself a glance in Cas’s direction. He's looking out the window, laying his head on his trench coat which is bundled up against the door, his right arm tucked underneath. His suit jacket and tie are on his lap and he’s holding them there with his left hand. Dean wants, so badly, to reach over and take it, interlock their fingers without a word, as if that were a normal thing for them to do.

As sleepy as he is, Dean still has half a mind not to. His fingers flex on the wheel.

He drives for another half hour.

---

When Dean finally stops the car and shuts off the ignition, Sam feels it. He jolts awake and steps out in silence. Ungrateful bitch.

He didn't even say it out loud, but Dean takes that back. It was such a long hunt.

He lets his eyes close and drops his head back. He feels heavy. His whole body aches. He doesn’t realize how quickly he’s drifting off until he’s startled by Cas’s voice, soft, a gentle melody in the quiet space of the garage.

“Dean, you should get to bed.”

Cas, in his weird part-angel part-not state, doesn’t really need to sleep. Dean looks at him; the right side of his hair is sticking up in all directions, his eyes are smiling at him though his lips are not, the top of his dress shirt is unbuttoned–

Dean looks away. Swallows.

He lays his head back again. "Not like I've never slept in Baby before, Cas."

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

That makes Dean’s head turn, brows knitted together.

“What for?”

Cas looks genuinely regretful, facing Dean but not making eye contact. Instead, he looks downward, to Dean's legs. “Your ankle. If my grace were–”

“Don’t.”

It’s not a scold. There’s no bite in it. Dean just hates it when Cas blames himself, and how goddamn often he does. Cas meets his eyes.

“Just don’t, man,” Dean pleads.

Then he smiles at him, and Cas smiles back.

“Alright,” Cas says, gathering his things, “But you are not sleeping in the car, Dean. I'll help you, it's the least I can do."

And there he goes again, belittling himself. Dean doesn’t really have it in him to argue any further; he'll get it through Cas's thick head one day that he's worth more than what he can do. One day.

(Right now, Dean does kinda wanna get to his bed. It's been a while and he hopes it still remembers him.)

Dean pulls himself up and out of the car with effort, wincing when his right ankle– the fucked-up one– gets a bit too much weight put on it. Cas walks over to his side of the car, putting on his layers again on the way.

He'd never admit it, but Dean's skin is buzzing in anticipation, waiting. Cas will hold him up by his waist. Dean’s arm will be around Cas’s shoulders. Maybe Cas will grab his hand as he helps him walk to the–

Nope. None of that happens.

Instead, Dean gets swept off his feet, and then Cas is carrying him. Bridal style.

Dean tends to forget that the guy still has his strength.

In any other circumstance, Dean would probably be embarrassed. But there’s no one around, he’s utterly exhausted, and in Cas’s arms, he feels weightless. He settles, wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck.

Mistake. It brings their faces so much closer together, and now Dean can't look away. The curls behind Cas's ear, the slope of his cheekbone, his perpetual stubble… he's so close, and Dean is shamelessly drinking him in. If he surged forward a couple of inches, his nose would touch Cas's jaw. That's how close he is, and when is Dean ever going to get any closer? He rests his head, getting comfortable.

Cas looks straight ahead, weaving through the bunker halls with practiced ease, and he's blissfully unaware of Dean's staring. This is probably creepy, Dean realizes, so he closes his eyes.

---

The next moment Dean consciously registers is when his head hits the pillow.

"I tried not to wake you."

Dean fully opens his eyes and Cas is by his bed, still standing only half upright. There's a sheepish smile on his face as he straightens up.

"'S alright." Dean rubs his face and sits up to at least take his shoes off, and Cas takes a single step back. "Thanks," he says, and he feels like it's nowhere near enough for what Cas just did, but he can't think of anything better so it'll have to do.

Cas just smiles, tight-lipped.

"What're you gonna do?" Dean asks, unlacing his boots, and looking up at him. He's still at arm's length. Always at arm's length.

"I don't know." Cas puts his hands in his coat pockets. Dean wishes he'd let himself be comfortable. This is his home too. "Read. Maybe watch something on the Netflix."

Dean chuckles. He still calls it that after the one phone call they had when Dean told him to step away from it.

"Something funny?"

It's a genuine question. Dean pulls off the second boot and stands. Still with a smile on his face, he says "it's nothin'."

And then they're just standing there. Dean thinks maybe he wasn't being that creepy earlier, after all, ‘cause this? This is normal for them. Staring at each other in silence as if the silence will speak for them. Like, perhaps, if he looks at Cas long enough, at his eyes, his lips… Cas will know what Dean wants. Or maybe Dean's wants will vanish.

Dean will take either. He hopes for both just as strongly.

Cas breaks his gaze and says "I should go. Get some rest, Dean."

In that split second, as Cas turns to leave, Dean realizes two things.

One, neither of the things he's hoping for are going to happen. Cas isn't going to magically know what Dean wants, and this yearning, this constant clench deep in Dean's chest whenever he's around Cas, isn't just going away on its own.

Two, extreme exhaustion doesn't just weaken the physical and cognitive defenses. It also shatters the emotional ones into a million pieces.

He's never been so tired and he's never felt so brave.

Before he can stop it, Dean's hand darts out and grabs Cas's forearm.

Cas looks down at it, then up at Dean, then back down. "What's wrong?" He asks, worried.

"Nothin', just…"

Dean's mouth is dry, and he's fighting his eyelids to stay open. He knows what he wants to say and fuck he wants to go to sleep. So he just gets it over with.

"You don't have to go."

Cas looks back up at him, confused.

"You can stay if you want. Here."

Cas squints. "I'm not planning on leaving the bunker, Dean."

"No, I–"

Dean smiles and hangs his head because he can't help it. Because Cas just being Cas makes him smile, and he can't ever help it, much less now that he's completely given up. He lets his hand slide lower and lower down Cas's arm until he's lazily holding on to his fingers.

"I mean, here here. With me."

"Why?" Cas looks down at their entangled fingers and he's so confused. Jeez, this couldn't be any more difficult. "What do you need?"

"Nothin', fuck, Cas, I just want you to. I– I want you –" Dean steps closer, taking Cas's hand in full, interlocking their fingers like he wanted to do back in the car and since always. "–to take off that stupid coat, and that stupid jacket, and those stupid shoes, and anything else that you want–"

Cas looks less confused by the second, thank fuck. Dean feels like he's about to collapse on the spot, but he needs Cas to understand.

"–and I want you to lay down in that goddamn bed."

Dean is pleading at this point. He's about to fall over, and Cas firmly holding onto both his hand and his gaze feels like the only thing keeping him upright.

Cas stares at him with an expression that Dean can't quite decipher, but the confusion is gone. "With you," Cas says. Not asking. It's like he's completing Dean's sentence, and in a way, he is.

"With me," Dean says, for good measure.

He's not expecting much. He's not even expecting Cas to say yes. The way Cas keeps looking and looking and looking at him with that squint, chapped lips parted and brows furrowed, Dean isn't sure if he's trying to make up his mind, or read Dean's. The longer he does it though, the more Dean is convinced he's going to walk out that door and not talk to him for at least a month.

Dean starts to let go of his hand and is about to tell him that the choice is his, because of course it is.

Cas doesn't let him. He pulls Dean to him by that same hand and whatever short distance remained between them is gone.

Dean's brain is lagging. Buffering and loading like a desktop in '98. But when the bar finally fills up all the way, he wraps his arms around Cas's waist, and kisses him back. Cas's hands are on his face, snaking their way up to Dean's hair, and fuck that's heaven. Better than.

As many times as Dean has imagined and even dreamt of this, there's one thing he never could've foreseen: how hungry Cas is. His lips move like they're running out of time (they're not), he pulls Dean ever closer like he's going to float away (he's not), and his tongue explores so eagerly, like this is the only time he'll ever kiss Dean (it's not, if Dean can help it).

Hell, they're gonna have to do this again, 'cause right now Dean is running on fumes. He just doesn't have it in him to return all of Cas's fervor and enthusiasm and passion, to kiss him the way he deserves. Cas seems to pick up on that, how hard Dean is trying and probably failing miserably.

"You're tired," he says, barely pulling away, forehead to forehead and nuzzling his nose against Dean's.

Dean drops his head on Cas's shoulder, buries his face in the crook of his neck. "Yeah. 'm sorry," he mumbles into it.

"No, don't be."

Cas wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders and hugs him, holds him, stroking the hair at the back of his neck with his fingertips. Dean leaves a soft kiss on Cas's neck and hugs him even tighter, arms wrapped around him, under the stupid coat and jacket. He inhales deeply; Cas smells like honey and a thunderstorm, and Dean fucking loves it.

He feels himself drifting off again and pushes himself off of Cas. He needs to change. He needs to fall into bed. He needs to sleep for at least a week.

But there's one thing he wants, more than anything.

"Stay, Cas. Please."

Dean doesn't think he's ever seen Cas smile at him so bright.

"Of course, Dean."

---

Dean wakes up the next morning– well, day – and Cas is still here, on the right side of the bed. Dean is half laying on top of him, actually, arm around his torso and head on top of his chest. Cas has one arm underneath Dean and wrapped around him, his hand on Dean's left shoulder, where it belongs. He's drawing circles on it with his thumb.

He's playing that candy matching game on his phone with the other hand.

"Mornin'."

"Afternoon," Cas corrects him. "It's 3:27 pm."

Dean chuckles, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. "Shit."

"You needed it." Cas locks his phone and sets it down on the nightstand. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, did you–" Dean finally looks at Cas, propping himself up on his elbow. The hand that was on Dean's shoulder, Cas puts under his head. His arm flexes. He looks content. Blissful. He's not wearing a shirt, just the sweatpants that Dean gave him the night before (which is slowly coming back to Dean now). His hair is even messier than usual, and shit he looks good. Really good.

…What was Dean gonna say.

"Um–" right, he gulps, "–did you stay here the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Playing that game?"

"And some others."

"And you never left?"

"Of course not."

Cas smiles, and Dean's heart skips a beat. Then Cas licks his lips and those electric blue eyes give Dean a once-over, and Dean wonders how the fuck he's even still breathing.

Then Cas's smile falters, and he gets that confused look again, searching Dean's expression. "Do you... want me to le–"

"Never," Dean answers instantly.

Cas's smile is back. He reaches up, cupping Dean's face, and Dean shuts his eyes as he leans into it. When he opens his eyes again, Cas is looking at him like he can't get enough, like he's waited forever for this. Dean knows the feeling.

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," Cas says softly.

And that's when Dean finally kisses Cas, kisses him like he deserves, with the endless bounds of love and desire that, for years now, he's been holding back and pushing down with all he's got.

Now he puts all he's got into showing Cas how much he's worth, and they don't leave Dean's room for the rest of the afternoon.

---

fic taglist: ask to be added or removed! <3

@doyouhearthedestielsing // @all-or-nothing-baby // @the-boy-kings-crown // @the-moon-loves-the-sea // @casismymrdarcy // @youcaneven // @zorelle // @spooky-floral-cas // @emeraldcas // @lilcasx // @oh-in-italics // @theehauntedhusbands // @knifelesbianjo // @shakespeareintellectualbadass // @stressedtaco // @aniridescentdreamer // @mishacase2003 // @spookymixtape // @hauntedrederadean // @ciderdean // @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie // @autumncastiel // @pumpkinspicedeancas // @one-more-offbeat-anthem // @wormstacheangel // @spookydestielnightandwine // @spoookycastiel // @deanolantern // @ghostlynatural // @heres-to-evil-skanks // @evermoredeancas // @ghostfacersnatural // @fanged-cas // @hauntpdf // @justcastiel

Oh my god, this really is what it must be like to read the morning newspaper, isn’t it?

can’t wait to log into this hellsite tomorrow and read the summary of everything that happened/was said at denvercon today like its the morning newspaper

BEST THING I’VE READ IN A (long) WHILE!!!

I want to watch the sunrise (I’m tired of the sunset)

Hello everybody! As promised here is the first chapter of my new fic as a thank you for 600 followers! I’m going to do my best to have new chapters out every other week depending on my school workload. 

You can read the first chapter below or on archive 

current wc: 5k

Description: 

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak have been best friends for as long as either of them can remember. They’ve shared everything together, from their first double date to their first beer; they were inseparable, that was until college tore them apart. Dean tried to reach out over the years to keep in contact, but Cas never replied, so Dean had to resort to looking at Cas’s semi-regular Instagram posts in order to check up on his old friend.

Now, it’s been over six years since they last spoke. Cas is in a steady relationship with a girl named Daphne and Dean is… totally not jealous. When Cas walks into a bar just outside of a New York town where Dean’s spent his after college years, Dean can’t quite believe it’s Cas standing in front of him, mostly because Cas lives across the country in California.

Seeing Cas again makes Dean remember just how in love with his former best friend he still is. If only Cas loved him back…

Dean watched the rain fall slowly out of his apartment window. It had been raining non-stop for almost a week now and Dean was content to enjoy it. He loved the rain. There was something so calming about it, the way the water seemed to always know where to go as it slipped down the glass of his bay window accompanying the loud thrum of each droplet landing on the roof as one. It also meant that Dean could get some writing done without missing out on sunny days. 

He nursed a cup of coffee in his hands, sipping at the black liquid and relishing the bitter feeling of it on his tongue. Coffee was supposed to be black, he’d explain to anyone who’d question his choices, it was not meant to be loaded with cream and sugar like Cas always– Dean stopped his thoughts right there as a fond smile started to creep onto his face. He was trying not to think about Cas. His best friend of twenty years who had moved away, coming up on six years now, and who hadn’t spared Dean so much as a postcard since.

Keep reading

Day 4: Secrets

"You what?" Dean demands as he takes off his coat.

"I accidentally cursed our apartment," Cas says, wringing his hands.

Jesus Christ. Everyone told him not to move in with a witch. Witches are nothing but trouble. Witches summon demons that wreak havoc on the neighborhood. Witches smell like stinky herbs.

And, yeah, Sam's burrito farts are a goddamn biohazard, but if Dean's learned anything from sharing a bedroom with his witchy little brother, it's not to trust stereotypes.

Plus, it's not like Cas, graduate student of the Occult School, brings in anything worse than Dean, graduate student in the School of Nursing. Between the two of them, Dean definitely holds the lead in coming home splattered with questionable fluids. Cas is practically Mr. Clean.

But he'd just had a grueling day of pathophys and epidemiology & biostatistics. He spent the past hour daydreaming of vegging out on the couch and watching a rerun (or five) of Dr. Sexy, MD. He'd barely stepped across the threshold before Cas was on him, yammering on about a spell gone wrong.

"Start from the beginning," Dean says, rubbing his forehead. “What’s the spell do?”

“It traps anyone who enters its borders,” Cas says promptly.

“Okay, so, what,” Dean says, “is the kitchen off limits? ’Cause that’ll be a problem in like three hours.”

Cas shakes his head, his expression apprehensive. “It’s already trapped us. We can’t leave this floor.”

“How…?” Dean drifts off, stunned.

Cas’s mouth twists. “My containment perimeter had a breach that I didn’t notice until too late. The spell naturally expanded to the next man-made perimeter.”

“Great,” Dean says sourly as he plops down on the couch. He might as well make himself comfortable if he’s not leaving anytime soon. “I assume it can be broken, right? We won’t be trapped here forever?” He reaches for the remote and puts on an episode of Scooby Doo to play in the background with the sound turned low.

Cas perches on the other side of the couch, half-facing Dean, half-facing away from the television. “It can be broken.”

“Lemme guess, you need a shitton of rare ingredients delivered that we don’t have here?” Dean asks without looking at him.

Truthfully, it could be worse. He’s spent plenty of fun weekends staying in with Cas, squabbling over whose turn it was to use the stove for frying burgers (Dean) or boiling hiccup cures (Cas). As long as Cas springs for next-day delivery, he could be looking at freedom in under 48 hours.

“Not exactly,” Cas says, and Dean looks up.

Cas has a distinctly squirrelly look around his eyes.

Warning bells go off in Dean’s head, honed from years of listening to Sam stutter through completely implausible lies (demon blood did it, really? Are you sure it isn’t your skanky girlfriend?) “So what’ll it take?” Dean asks, frowning as he flits through more and more implausible answers.

“The exercise was to incorporate a verbal key to undo the spell,” Cas says slowly.

“Have you already tried Open Sesame?” he tries, only half-joking.

“It’s not a catchphrase,” Cas deadpans.

“Good, ’cause you kind of suck at that game,” Dean says, rolling his eyes, “Who the hell uses ‘popular shipping insulation’ as a clue for Peanuts?”

“That’s what peanuts do!”

“You could’ve just said ‘Snoopy’ and I would’ve gotten it like that.” He snaps his fingers.

Cas scowls. “You know I am not as well versed in non-magical pop culture.”

Dean’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He coughs and fiddles with the remote. “So what’s the magic word this time?”

Cas swallows. “Words, plural - the spell requires secrets to open.”

“Secrets,” Dean repeats flatly.

“The more intimate the more valuable,” Cas confirms miserably.

“Seriously?” Dean asks, staring at Cas in horror. “You couldn’t have made the solution, like, Led Zeppelin lyrics?”

Cas shakes his head. “The key has to be something valuable.”

“Great, just great,” Dean says sourly as he sinks back in the cushions and stares out at the television without absorbing any of the cartoon going on on screen.

“Would you rather… wait?” Cas asks cautiously.

Dean sighs. “No, better to get it over with,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair.

“I’ll go first,” Cas volunteers, his voice understandably subdued. “I lied last weekend when you invited me to the beach. I wasn’t busy, but I didn’t want to go because I can’t swim.”

Dean blinks. Cas had been weirdly evasive when Dean asked him what he was up to instead.

“Your turn,” Cas says stiffly.

“You can’t swim?”

“I’ve never learned.”

“Plenty of people can’t swim,” Dean says casually, “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I don’t own a swimsuit either.”

“You could’ve borrowed one of mine,” Dean says sensibly.

“It was just easier if I stayed behind.” Cas reddens, his gaze dropping to his knees. “Your truth, Dean,” he reminds him.

“I once cheated on a history test?”

Cas nods once. “I borrowed my sister’s car and dented the side door. I blamed my younger brother when she found out.”

“I peed myself the first time I saw The Exorcist.”

“I worked at a Gas-n-Sip in high school. I was awful at it, and they fired me after a month.”

"I listened to a Taylor Swift song on the radio yesterday and I liked it. I liked it a lot."

Cas cracks a smile. "I like Taylor Swift.”

“You also like prime numbers and trench coats,” Dean says wryly. He grins. “Sometimes you’re just way off base, man.”

Cas frowns. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“It makes you look like a flasher,” Dean says promptly.

“I’m not a flasher.”

“Dude, I know.” He pauses. “Does that even count as a truth?”

Cas sighs. “I have no idea,” he says as he gets up and heads into his room. He emerges with a spindly metallic doodad in his hands. It’s delicate hands sway slightly even though there’s no breeze in their apartment. Cas glares down at it. “According to my measurements, we’re about a quarter of the way there.”

“Seriously?”

Cas falls back into his seat, staring at the instrument in his hands. “I suppose we need deeper secrets.”

Dean’s stomach fills with lead. A secret pops to mind, one that would probably blow Cas’s stupid secret measurer out of the water. He clears his throat as Cas’s head whips around to stare at him. “You first.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “I’ve participated in an orgy.”

Whatever Dean had been expecting as Cas’s deep, dark secret, kinky sex acts was not on that list. In all the times he’s tried to picture Cas’s sex life, he comes up with a big fat blank. Cas has never dated the entire time Dean has known him, and Dean would’ve thought he was a virgin except he hangs out with that Meg Masters, who would never be caught dead in the vicinity of a virgin unless it was to make a ritual sacrifice.

“What? How? When?”

Cas’s expression closes off. “The truth doesn’t require elaboration.”

“Had we met yet?”

“Dean -”

“Had we?”

“No,” Cas says with finality. “It was while I was an undergraduate student. Beltane - I had not adequately been warned.”

“I’d say,” Dean says faintly. He gives himself a little shake. Truth. No, no that truth. But something big enough to count for Cas’s secret-hungry curse. “I once almost sold my soul to a demon,” he says in a low voice.

Still, Cas reacts like he received an electric shock. He jumps and stares at Dean, his blue eyes wide. “You almost sold your soul? When?”

Dean grimaces. “Pretty sure the truth doesn’t require elaboration or some bullshit like that.”

Cas lips press together in a thin line. “When?” he repeats.

“We were kids,” Dean says with a sigh. “My dad was out of town, and Sam fell in with a bad crowd. Wound up literally stabbed in the back. Plus concussion. If he didn’t pull through, I had all the stuff ready for the nearest crossroads. Thank god the nurses and the docs could work their magic”

Cas’s rigid posture loses some tension. “I’m glad Sam pulled through.”

“Yeah, since I’m pretty sure I’d be in Hell by now,” Dean says, forcing a smile on his face. “Your turn.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been truly happy,” Cas says, glancing down at the instrument in his hands. “I’ve been content before. I’ve appreciated the route of flowers. I’ve masturbated, which is very satisfactory but also very fleeting.” He shrugs. “I adore my work, my friends. What am I missing?”

Dean gulps, but the words fail him.

Cas checks the secret measurer again. “I think one big one might do it,” he says hopefully.

Right, well, here goes nothing.

Cas says, “I ate the last slice of pie you were saving,” while Dean blurts, “I like you.”

Dean stares at him, his face heating to approximately a thousand fucking degrees.

Cas doesn’t help, sitting there with his perfect, gobsmacked face, not saying a word.

“Right,” Dean says, eyeing the secret measurer, which has gone haywire. The top bit is spinning like the secret lovechild of a fork and a windmill. He jumps to his feet. “Looks like the spell’s broken, so I’m going to-”

“Wait,” Cas says quickly as he reaches over to grab Dean’s arm. “You like me?”

Dean’s jaw clenches. He can’t refute, but he can’t say it again.

“I had no idea,” Cas says, his voice and eyes unbearably kind.

“It’s fine,” Dean says brusquely. “Forget it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll make everything awkward,” Dean says, his tone clipped.

Cas’s grip has turned to iron around Dean’s forearm. Meeting Dean’s gaze squarely, he says, “You don’t think I like you back.”

Dean falters. “Because you don’t?” he tries.

Cas just stares at him as butterflies take flight in the pit of Dean’s stomach.

“But,” Dean starts, “You never said anything. Not even for the spell.”

Cas tilts his head, a rueful expression coming over his face. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Gonna go cry now.. this is way too soft and beautiful for me to handle! Now I’m overwhelmed😭

Cas gets upset but before he can escape the bunker, Dean finds him and sets it right. Especially for Sana @jactingjoices’ event and the prompt: “I told you so.” Thank you for being such a lovely and talented presence, I’m so happy to know you! <3 Read below or on ao3 (2k)

Castiel stands at the bottom of the bunker stairs and takes a deep breath. And then he takes another. He closes his eyes and tries to think of something else, anything else, but he can’t. Tears are prickling at his eyes and the overwhelming stupidity he feels because of this is only making them multiple. It’s ridiculous to feel so upset over such a small, insignificant thing, but he can’t seem to help it. He sniffs loudly, looking upwards and wondering if he should make a swift exit before anyone sees him. Before he has time to move, he hears footsteps padding softly down the hallway. Too late to make his escape.

He swats hurriedly at his eyes as Dean turns the corner, dressed in his usual sleep attire and dressing gown, his hair sticking out at comical angles from his tired face. The sight of him cheers Cas up instantly, despite the tears still threatening to unleash themselves.

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