Title: Moonshadow
Author: beecoveredcas
Artist: usarechan
Rating: Explicit
Pairings:Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: Violence, death, happy ending, alternate universes, soldiers Dean and Cas, It’s a Terrible Life ‘verse, children Dean and Cas, demon!Dean, leviathan!Cas, happy ending, fluff and smut
Posting Date: 11/23/2017Summary: It was supposed to be an easy case.
Gross, but easy–they were just hunting a witch, after all.
It turns out to be anything but. Thanks to the witch trying to teach Dean a lesson, a straightforward hunt turns into a trip through torturous realities, where Dean gets a taste of what he won’t admit he wants most–Cas. No matter what he does, Dean is trapped in a loop of losing his angel–his friend–each ending crueler than the last. Dean waits for the nightmare to end, but the witch seems to enjoy watching him fall apart over and over.
Maybe there’s no waking up from this.
– – –
She’s waiting for him in the parking garage. As soon as he rounds the corner to his car and sees that stupid red and white gingham, (a dress this time, with a blazer, she thinks she’s clever) he hurls his briefcase to the floor.
“You fucking bitch!” he shouts, voice echoing; there’s no one else down there, just him and the woman who put him in this universe in the first place. “I’ve learned my lesson, okay? Point made, problem solved, now put me back.” She laughs, turning to face him.
“You think it’s so easy?” she says. “Oh, no. No, just because you get all weepy, doesn’t mean you get to go home.”
“Why are you doing this?” Dean demands. “What, daddy not hug you enough as a kid? Is that it? Somebody break your heart, too?”
Too.
“If you try and stir up trouble,” she says, instead of answering, “like you did yesterday, with Cas, I will make things much, much worse for you. Just play your part like a good little boy and we won’t have any problems.” Dean glares at her.
“Oh, we’ve already got problems, lady,” he grinds out, storming over to her, but as soon as she’s in swinging distance he’s got another face full of that goddamn powder and it’s back to sleep for him.
~~~
“…Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light.” The voice hovers through the beaded curtain Dean wakes up across from, in a little house surrounded what looks like a forest. “Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?” It’s gravel-low and coarse, but sweet and soothing; Dean would know it anywhere.
“Cas,” he says from the bed he’s lying on, nothing more than a mattress on a floor. The singing pauses, and Cas pokes a shaggy-haired head around the corner.
“Hey, goodlookin’,” he grins. “Have you been enjoying the music?” Dean sits up, his head thudding.
“Yeah,” he agrees, grudgingly following the witch’s advice. “What’cha doin’?”
“Cooking,” Cas says from the next room. “Toast and powdered eggs. Breakfast of champions.”
Dean stands, meanders in to join him. Cas is wearing light-looking, loose, yellow pants and a Wham! t-shirt Dean recognises as his, his dark beard thick and unkempt; he walks over to him, sets a hand on his chest, kisses Dean chastely on the lips.
Tag: I’m excited for this one!
Title: Gods in the Chrysalis
Author: JhanaMay
Artist: violue
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: Endverse Castiel, Musician Castiel, traumatic brain injury
Posting Date: 11/7/2017Summary: Olympic hopeful Dean Winchester has always felt more at home in the water than he did on land. Pressured by his father to carry on his mother’s dream, Dean’s entire life has revolved around swimming and competing. Everything changes when he sustains a head injury in an accident at the pool and is left unable to swim. The fear of disappointing everyone in his life is heightened when he realizes his love of the water has been replaced by a strange talent for playing the piano. With the help of Castiel, the high-school dropout/weekend musician who runs a local music store, Dean learns to question everything he thought he knew about himself, his family, and his life. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the butterfly calls just the beginning.
– – –
Dean opens his eyes, and blinks, registering for the first time the damp tear tracks streaked down his face. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, but his sinuses ache enough to tell him it’s been a while. Reaching up to scrub the wetness away, Dean turns to face the person behind him.
The man from the behind the counter stands a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. Dean hadn’t noticed before, but he’s wearing a pale blue t-shirt with a colorful pony on the front, the words Rainbow Dash in glitter below it. Intricate designs—musical notation shot through with dark green vines and bright splashes of flowers—wind their way up both arms and disappear into his shirt sleeves. A single musical note drips from the right corner of his bright blue eyes and two silver balls frame the outer edge of his left eyebrow.
The man rocks back on his heels and clears his throat. “Holy fuck,” he says, his voice a deep, rolling timbre. “I’m glad Raph listened when I told him not to get rid of that piano.”
He steps forward and Dean shifts back, pressing himself against the keys and wincing at the discordant sound. “Sorry, I, ah, I saw it and—”
“Don’t apologize. We don’t get classically trained pianists in here, like, ever. That was fucking beautiful.” He pulls one hand out of his pocket and tugs at the hem of the too-small t-shirt where it’s pulling up, revealing a sliver of skin at his hip.
Dean follows the long fingers with his eyes. Piano keys cover the back of his hand, tattooed across his knuckles and down to the first joint. “I’m not—” Dean stands up, knocking the bench back against the piano, and edges away from the man. “I should go.”
“You don’t have to go. I’m Castiel,” the guy says, holding out his hand. “Where’d you study? Not K.U., not playing Satie like that. Tell me you didn’t go to Juilliard.”
Dean studies the man’s outstretched hand, then looks back up at his face. Dark stubble dusts his strong jawline, and Dean’s mouth goes dry. Despite the tattoos and the piercings and the fucking god-awful abomination of a t-shirt, he’s gorgeous, and Dean can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and he’s going to pass out and he doesn’t even know where the hell he is or how he got here. Sucking in a rasping gasp of air, he stumbles backward. He can’t do this, not with the song echoing in his head and his hands twitching to play it again. “I can’t,” he forces out, shoving past the man. “I’m sorry; I have to go. I’m sorry.” He rushes to the door and out into the bright afternoon sun.
Title: Version 2.0
Author: Elizabeth1985
Artist: comedicdrama
Rating: Explicit
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: nyc, best friends, roommates, friends with benefits, tattooed!dean, tattooed!castiel, dean is crazy smart, business partners, light d/s, light kink
Posting Date: 10/31/2017Summary: Life is nothing but a series of processes. We rise, we work, we function within the walls we’ve designed for ourselves. Dean Winchester does not deviate from this system. Heavily tattooed and a borderline genius; Dean necessitates control. Relationships are a no-go. Too messy, unpredictable. And yeah, he knows having casual sex with his best friend, roommate, and business partner is a dumbass move. But Cas’ suggestion is impossible to resist. What Dean doesn’t expect and couldn’t possibly predict is the unique way Cas manages to shut down his mile-a-minute mind, giving him a level of inner peace he’d thought to be unattainable. What starts out of convenience morphs into a dynamic emotional slide neither of them were prepared for, forcing them to decide what they’re willing to risk.
– – –
They know each other too well. Castiel’s crystal blue eyes narrow into slits, head tipped at an angle against the back of the couch. There’s a weighted pause hovering between them.
“Something’s different…” Cas murmurs, barely meeting Dean’s eyes.
It’s the strangest thing, this singular moment. As if they both know something’s changed but neither has the balls to say it outright or even blink suggestively in that direction. They let it hang, pretending there aren’t internal freakouts just flying all over the apartment like hyper-charged dust motes.
Choking down unwanted panic, Dean ruffles Cas’ unruly hair. “Don’t worry about it. What do you want for dinner?”
His roommate closes his eyes to the touch. “Whatever you want works for me.”
Is there a double-meaning there? They’re both pretty damn smart. They could dance this game a long while. Tiptoeing in suggestive language, if that’s what this is. Dean’s not sure. He hates complicated crap and Cas has the social cues of a rabbit sometimes. But maybe it is… this potentially cryptic back and forth. Maybe they’ll hide under the safety of its uncertainty and clouded air of disassociation. For a bit anyway. Dean’s not ready to figure this out. It feels too much like giving in to the raging constant need inside him. It wouldn’t do any good to reach out and grab the closest male in proximity. Let alone one who happens to be his best fucking friend, and his roommate, AND his business partner.
“I haven’t decided on anything,” he says. Take that double meaning and smoke it.
The faintest smile passes through Cas’ expression. But is it suggestive or normal; he doesn’t know. “We could order out,” suggests Cas. “I’m starving.”
Order out? Starving? Are they still playing? Maybe they never were. Maybe Dean’s overactive brain has taken a sharp turn from reality. Watching an hour or two of porn every day probably doesn’t help.
“Uh, pizza?”
Cas moans. “Yessss. Definitely pizza.”
Last night comes flashing back to him. “Damn, you’re busting out those moans for pizza? Maybe you were dreaming about a big deep-dish last night.” Yeah right, he answers himself sarcastically. A fucking extra-large slice of the Best Friend Special.
“Perhaps I was,” Cas replies. No hesitation. Just a little sass.
“Uhn-huh,” Dean blandly fires back, not even trying to hide his bullshit-meter tone.
Dean’s life is supposed to be uncomplicated, dammit. Now he’s conversing in vague subtleties and possible innuendos. Fuck.
Why did his best friend have to dream-moan his name like that? It’s like a box Dean never knew he owned just exploded all over the floor in some catastrophic sticky mess. One singular event turning his orderly life into shambles.
Man, he really needs to clean something.
No Such Thing as Coincidence 