salud

for my friend makingfists, via booze: a little new year’s destiel fluff.

they’re supposed to go out, to sam’s, but cas has a cold.

won’t admit it, of course. just pads around all day looking miserable and pulling tissues from his sleeves like a freaking old man. curls up on the couch in dean’s ratty sweater and watches home shopping network on mute.

but he’s fine.

“i’m fine,” he whines every time dean touches his forehead. “dean. leave me alone. i’m fine.”

dean rolls his eyes and feeds cas popsicles—“i don’t like the grape ones, dean”—and tries not to wince every time he coughs.

cas finally passes out around 10 with the cat in his lap and dean sneaks out to the kitchen to call sam, to cancel. “yeah,” dean says, soft. “i’m sorry, dude. but drink some champagne for me, yeah? ok. i’ll tell him. thanks. and hey, good luck popping sarah’s cork tonight, sport.” he hangs up while sam’s still swearing and smirks his way back to the couch.

they stay there all evening: dean’s fingers on cas’ neck, slow; the cat shooting dean looks from cas’ lap like: “can’t you see i’m working here, human?”; cas snoring hoarse and drooling on a pillow.

and maybe dean sleeps a little there, too.

he wakes up just after one disoriented and dry-mouthed to see cas’ face in his, his weight sweet heavy full in dean’s lap and those blue blue eyes that dean would know in any darkness staring right down to his soul.

“um,” cas scratches. “dean. happy new year.”

and dean grins and leans up for his kiss because that’s what’s supposed to happen now, right? but cas just leans back and pushes a glass of—what? orange juice? into his hand.

clinks his cup into dean’s and says: “salud.”

they drink and dean laughs and catches cas’ face with his free hand.

“baby,” he breathes. “cas. happy new year.”

cas’ kisses taste like nyquil and tea and they’re sweeter than any champagne.

Now In Stereo

For winchester-cathedral over on tumblr, who prompted: “How about something where Sam and Dean are cursed (blessed???) to feel what each other feels, so it makes for some really super intense sex?”

Now In Stereo

In retrospect, maybe Dean shouldn’t have kicked that elf in the crotch.

Continue reading “Now In Stereo”

The Eye Burns Brighter

Over on teh tumblr, outofmymindbebackshortly requested “Sam/Castiel Space Pirates.”

Space pirates, ya’ll. Sassy fucking space pirates. 

I hope it goes without saying, but this was a goddamn blast to write.

The Eye Burns Brighter

When things went to shit, Cas was the first to notice.

He was burrowed into Sam’s lap, knees tucked into hips, his hand tangled in dark hair, his mouth open and willing and wide. Sam’s nails were in the small of his back, his growl curled around Cas’ tongue, the pilot’s seat tipped so far back that the floor seemed closer than the stars.

He had Sam’s cock in his fist, that lovely living thing shuddering in his palm, right on the edge of breaking. Sam was kicking his hips up, digging his mouth into Cas’ neck and moaning, the sound slinking under Cas’ collar and painting his chest with want.

Yes. They were busy.

But Cas could feel the shift in the plates, hear the whine of the engine go a little bit dark. It broke through the haze that Sam always twisted around him, the one that made his choices, however foolish, never quite seem like mistakes.

He cocked his head, tugged his mouth away, and sat up. Listening.

Sam chased him, swung his weight up so fast the chair almost snapped from its moorings. That sweet howl in his throat:

“Cas. Baby. Don’t leave me–”

“Shhh,” Cas whispered. “Don’t you hear it?” Continue reading “The Eye Burns Brighter”