Shes The Last Unicorn In The World. It Would Be The Last Unicorn In The World That Came To Molly Grue.

“She’s the last unicorn in the world.” “It would be the last unicorn in the world that came to Molly Grue.”

The Last Unicorn (1982) dir. Jules Bass & Arthur Rankin, Jr.

[fic] [spn | dean/cas ] i'm only temporary

These fucking nerds I swear to god. I stopped watching after season 6 and still came back because the way season 15 ended sucked so bad I wanted something different.

i'm only temporary spn dean/cas 710 words title from "Limb" by Keaton Henson feedback always welcome; errors mine all mine

Castiel emerges from the rising haze of steam in the shower room, still dripping. The towel he grabs from the row of hooks is one of their softest, and he uses it to swipe the moisture from his newly-aware skin and scrub at his hair before dropping it to the floor. He leans his hip on the counter and enjoys the residual warmth from the hot water as he performs his morning hygienic and perfuming rituals. There are many tedious things about being human, but these routines, performed in silence and solitude, are not objectionable.

His reflection appears dismayed as he realizes he has brought nothing to wear with him, and he pads out of the shower room and down the cool hall to Dean’s room.

Castiel knocks quickly, hoping Dean hasn't fallen asleep. “Dean,” he says to the door, “I require clean clothing.”

The response comes muffled from the other side. “Yeah, come in and take what you want.”

It appears that Dean has flopped down onto his mattress and stayed in that position after shoving the towel into Castiel’s hands and insisting he take first shower (never mind that there are other stalls). He is still wearing his road clothes with his face to the opposite wall. Castiel moves to the dresser and simply takes the top folded shirt and pajama pants. He doesn't understand Dean’s objection to sharing underwear specifically, but it is generous of him to share at all.

As he bends to place his foot into one bunched up pant leg, he voices his thanks.

Dean's booted feet are loud on the floor. “Jesus!” He has moved to sit at the end of the bed, evidently having looked at Castiel and turned away again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn’t sign up for dinner and a show, Cas."

As usual, Castiel doesn't quite comprehend what reference Dean made in the absence of a meal and a television program, but intuits that it has to do with his state of undress. The sense of shame surrounding nudity is one of many things Castiel finds frustrating about living among humanity. There is nothing shameful about any body. Clothing exists for protection and comfort, and the human form is beautiful.

Fully clothed now, he sits facing Dean’s back and carefully touches his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“‘S fine, man.” Dean’s cheeks are deeply blushed as he turns around, shaking his head, with his hand winged away from it as he uncovers his eyes. “Not like I haven’t seen a dick before, and with everything we’ve been through, what’s a little nakedness between friends, right?”

Their faces are so close together (personal space, Cas) that even with his diminished human perception, Castiel can make out every freckle on Dean’s face, the furrows and crypts of his irises, and the flush overtaking his ears. Yes, the naked human form is beautiful, but Castiel doesn’t need to lay eyes on the rest of Dean’s body again to feel full of appreciation and affection.

He keeps that to himself. “We have shared much together,” he says instead.

After a long moment, Dean breaks eye contact, groaning and smacking his hand down on Castiel’s thigh, squeezing. “Ah—uh. So. What can I do ya for?” Then, reading his confused expression, “Do you need anything else? C’mon, help me out, here.”

As a human, Castiel can feel awkwardness. Before, he was immune to it and wouldn’t have cared even if he were aware of it. But human emotions carry such strange weight and urgency, and he is torn between competing desires to stay and flee. Even in the cool air of Dean’s room, he’s beginning to feel warm.

“I...enjoy spending time with you.” Despite being the truth, the words feel pulled from the same tumult in his gut that forced him to a since-unacknowledged confession at death’s door. His own face shows evidence of the burning he feels creeping up now, he is certain, and the urge to flee grows. "Do you– would you like to eat dinner and watch a tv show– together? Tonight?"

It is gratifying to watch Dean’s faintly pained grimace melt into a small, crooked grin.

“Yeah…yeah, Cas. As you wish.”

cannot watch the return of the king without thinking of that bad bootleg with the fucked up subtitles that said “this will be the end of Gender as we know it” instead of “this will be the end of Gondor as we know it”

Oh man I'm still so bummed this was cancelled.

GET TO KNOW ME ★ Favourite TV Shows = Dead Like Me “Life sucks, and then you die. And then it still sucks.”