So I really like the dress featured top left, and I love the shoes in the bottom photo.
Castiel sees his first sunrise on an early Friday morning.
Dean hands him his coffee just the way he likes it – with a little bit of cream and ‘just a hint of sugar’, Cas? Seriously? – before their fingers entwine and the hunter’s dragging him off through a trail out behind the bunker.
“Where are we – ah – going, Dean?”
There’s no answer save for the slight squeeze of Dean’s fingers against his own, but that serves to be enough. Castiel’s still not awake enough for a full conversation and finds his throat scratchy, voice groggy from the lack of quality sleep. It’s early for them both surely, but Dean had requested the fallen angel be up the next morning for some sort of surprise. He figures there has to be something important waiting beyond those trees if Dean’s refusing to talk about it. Usually the hunter’s far more vocal in the mornings, especially when he can’t seem to find anything better to do than tease Castiel about his ‘morning issues’.
The fallen angel still swears he’s not grumpy – just normal. It is of course, not his fault Dean only needs four hours of lackluster rest.
“Come on,” Dean says, urging their bodies forward through a thicket of bushes before Castiel can just make out the tiniest of openings.
“Dean, what –” Castiel’s covered in leaves by the time they’re almost through, and his curiosity is far more than peaked.
“Cas – shh.” Dean grins and it’s the grin that reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners just as his hand tightens on Castiel’s own. “Do you trust me?”
Cas’ eyes narrow, squinting in the still-too-dark morning lighting.
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Dean.”
The hunter’s answering chuckle is almost worth being up at five am.
They reach the clearing after only a few more minutes of Castiel cursing at his lack of grace, feet tripping over branches and stones while Dean huffs out laugh after laugh, curling a steadying arm around the fallen angel’s waist.
“First day with your new legs, Cas?” The hunter’s lips are close to the other man’s ear, breath hot on Castiel’s skin before the fallen angel sets his jaw in defiance. No, he will not let Dean get the better of him just because it is morning.
“First week with my new legs Dean, yes,” Cas retorts, face hot with embarrassment as Dean brings him down next to him on the grass. “Legs are slow.”
“Yeah, quit the sob story, man. You’re fine.”
The words are harsh but Castiel knows better than to take Dean at face value. Words are different with Dean and Castiel knows exactly how to decipher the hidden messages and codes that every other person seems to let slip away.
A shame, he thinks as he leans in close and brushes his lips along the curve of Dean’s jaw, since this man has so much to say.
“Cas.” Dean’s smiling again as his fingers thread themselves through the fallen angel’s hair, pulling him back just an inch. “Hold on, I want you to see something.”
“Yes – um –” Castiel removes his lips from the man’s skin, cheeks darkening in color. “Of course. My apologies.”
Human needs, he thinks, are quite irritating.
Dean doesn’t seem to notice that Castiel is having some internal crisis however, as his eyes are upturned towards the lightening sky.
“Dean,” Castiel breathes, leaning into the man next to him as he too raises his head.
The sight is striking.
The cool colors melt away into soft reds and oranges, and for the first time in his life, Castiel cannot see beyond the spectrum. Heaven does not ruin the sight, does not taint it with its billions of scenarios. No, the colors are their own and Castiel watches, completely engrossed with devastating awe. Humanity, he knows, has always been beautiful. But this – this sight, this rising of the sun – it is illuminating, it is captivating, it is – “Dean,” Cas says again, lips twitching with the tiniest of smiles. “You remind me of this sunset.”
The hunter rolls his eyes, but hell if he doesn’t take the bait. “Okay Cas, I’ll bite. Why the hell do I remind you of a freaking sunset?”
Castiel’s lips curve upwards again with his own secret smile before he turns and presses his smirk into the arch of Dean’s neck.
“Because,” he says, “Just as the sun bathes the world in light – your soul bathes my existence in incomprehensible good.”
“Cas,” Dean groans out and sighs, arching his neck to allow the man easier access to his throat, “Why do you gotta’ be so freaking girly all the time?”
It is of course, Castiel’s turn to chuckle as he nips at the hunter’s flesh.
“Would you really have me any other way?” Cas grins as his tongue glides across the man’s collarbone, rewarded with a rough groan and a fist in his hair.
Perhaps, the fallen angel thinks, human needs aren’t so bad after all.
|Hong Kong, China|
|Dungannon, Northern Ireland|
|Bangor, Wales, UK|
|Los Angeles, USA|
|New Orleans, USA|
|New York, USA|
|University Place, USA|
|Washington DC, USA|
So you’re graduating? Crazy.
You’ve spent the last 4, 5, maybe 6 (we’re not judging, promise) years on a campus and made it your home. Along the way you’ve probably met some people who have had a huge impact on you. How many of them know it?
We’re challenging you to send out some gratitude to the people who have made a difference in your undergraduate degree.
Be creative and send it to us so we can share it along!
When Charlie Bradbury shows up to the bunker with three USS Enterprise costumes and a six-pack of Corona, the last thing she expects to find is a third Winchester.
But that’s exactly what she gets.
The man who opens the door after she gives the secret knock (the syllables to “mischief managed”) definitely looks like a Winchester. Rumpled hair, flannel shirt that’s two times too big, and rocking the five o’clock shadow. As well as weirdly colored, weirdly intense eyes. That also seems to be trademark of the Winchester way.
“Um…” Charlie says, her hand still poised in a fist. “Am I supposed to know you?”
The man tips his head inquisitively. “You’re not the pizza man.”
It’s kind of a brother thing.