Might I Add That In Italian Dean Never Calls Cas “cas” Or Any Nickname At All? He Just Continues

dean winchester

little ((bad)) something i wrote because insanity y’know. also I miss them.

“Cas, am I old?” Dean asks one day, looking towards the mirror, arms slouched along the sides, strays of grey hair muffled.

Cas - lying on the bed, bare torso, messy hair on top of his head - turns and looks at him questioningly.

Dean glances back at Cas through the mirror.

“What’s the matter?" Cas asks.

Dean’s firm lips hold a breath before answering. He lightly sighs, scratches his nape nervously and snorts “It’s— Nothing, ‘s just..nothing.”

“Dean” Cas says like he always does - fond, serious, apprehensive, loving- when Dean acts like that and Cas gets out of the bed, bedsheets slowly tracing and abandoning his body and hugs him from behind- bare torso, warm against dean - and places a soft kiss on the shoulder.

He glances at the mirror. Sees dean staring at his reflection.

“You are beautiful, Dean” Cas says. Plain and simple just because it’s true, just because he can say those things to Dean, just because Dean deserves to hear them. And Dean full on freezes. And Cas’ heart breaks a little.

When dean speaks again, his voice comes out in a rasp “’M turning 50 this year, Cas”

“That’s how birthdays work, Dean”

Dean elbows him softly but his voice is filled with a hint of laughter “You are spending too much time with Sam. Can’t handle two sarcastic-pain-in-the-ass nerds”

Cas huffs a laughter and kisses dean on the cheek. Dean’s body warm and soft against the cold air that fills the room.

“You turning 50 doesn’t determine your beauty, Dean. Or whatever it is you are concerned about now”

“Not concerned just— yeah, whatever”Dean snorts, still staring at his reflection. His right hand follows the outlines of his appearance, a grimace holding his lips.

“It’s just...My belly. Always had defined abs, you know and now it’s all soft”

Cas looks at him for a while, light sighs filling the room. Dean seems to tighten from his gaze.

“I love your belly, Dean” Cas slowly murmurs, locking eyes with the other man’s reflection. “I like putting my head there at night when we read in silence or when you put a movie on. One of those movies you love so much. I like to plant kisses there, seeing you blush under my displays of affection”

Dean remains silent for a moment, then: “I don’t blush”

Cas rolls his eyes, a gesture he has learned from watching human behavior and that finds pretty useful when dealing with the winchesters. A smile tugs his lips.

He kisses Dean’s collarbone -once, twice- and feels Dean leaning in the embrace.

“My hair.. I-“

Cas doesn’t miss a beat: “Few and little grey hairs at your sides, on the top and back of your head. I have them too and I think they suit you. It seems to mark your stay on earth, Dean. When a new one grows it’s like a confirm you are here and you are okay. That we are okay, are we, Dean?”

Cas knows the answer. Has known for a long time now.

It’s in the way they look at each other at night, intimate and vulnerable, fingers intertwined and legs dangling from the bed.

It’s in the mornings and the silence they mutually share, in the walk towards the kitchen, sometimes alone founding the other already there, cup of coffee in their hands and another ready for them to drink; sometimes together, grumpy and slightly tired and so in love.

It’s in Dean’s ever so green eyes looking at him with ease, in their fights from time to time that leave them angry and sad and confused, hands still holding the other’s, it’s in the nightmares and the caring and the memories and the hope. it’s in everything they are and in nothing less than that.

“Of course we are, dumbass” Dean says, rolling his eyes. Then:”My-“

“Dean” Cas states "Turn around”

And Dean does. And Cas kisses him while he talks-every part he can reach.

“You have little crinkles forming at your eyes when you smile now. I love them, I love seeing them because I love seeing you smile and laugh and grin just like you do. I like your softness, your hair, your belly, the freckles that seem to have increased, your strays of grey hair. I love the scars you have that are healing. I hate that you have them, that you had to go through such sufference, but you have them and it’s okay, Dean. It’s okay to have them and to be reminded of how strong you were. Of how strong you are. I love everything about what makes you feel older in a way because to me, it’s a sign that this, all of this, is real, that this is happening, that you are aging and living your life just like you deserve to, that you are safe and, hopefully, happy and serene. And that you feel loved- There’s nothing I want more than that, I hope you know it. And more, more than anything, Dean, your soul is beautiful. Pure light shining and glowing every time I look at you, and I know you are judging yourself from just your physicality- It’s something humans tend to do, but oh, dean if they.. if you could just see how incredible and pure and clean and wonderful you really are.... if you could just see yourself once, just once from my perspective, see how I see you, how I perceive you. I will spend everyday I get to have on this planet telling you just how beautiful you are, Dean, until you can finally realize the beauty you hold into your heart. You are beautiful, Dean. Still and always. Absolutely ethereal and I am so deeply in love with you”

If Dean sheds some tears, that’s nobody’s business, but Cas holds him tightly then and there and talks to him, softly traces his body murmuring praises and Dean breaks and breaks and breaks. But he is with Cas. He is safe. He can let himself break.

“Dean.. I- Me growing older, it’s okay for you isn’t it?”Cas asks at some point. Silence stretching between them.

“There was never one, there’s no one and there will never be one I’d rather growing older with than you, Cas”

“Plus" Dean adds, grinning “I love your grey hair. Makes you look like a dilf.”

“Dean”

Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Nikos Kazantzakis

Dean grows out his hair a bit and it’s great but it gets in his face while he’s cooking. As a solution Jack buys him these:

you wake up from the empty in a field. you do not know this field, but it is peaceful - beautiful, even. you do not know that you woke here because the man you love loves you back.

french teacher asking what “rupture” means.

me knowing right away and asking myself how do I know this.

then remembering that the ep where deancas divorce is called exactly this

“AH OUI OUI the gays🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️”

Love in His Eyes

Kofi | Commissions

I!!!!! LOVE!!!!! YOU!!!!

screaming sobbing crying

supernatural isn't even fictional to me anymore. sometimes i think "i wonder what dean's doing right now"