And now you will all get a giant dump of all the Destiel I wrote over Christmas Break. Have fun, brave souls.
Inspired by a picture I found on Tumblr that I can't seem to locate again, unfortunately. Well, it's in my Tumblr somewhere (hosekiasylum . tumblr . com). You'll know it when you see it.
That One Time He…
It starts with Castiel wanting to order a hamburger at the restaurant where they stop before heading back to their hotel after a hunt that ended up being a bust.
"Cas, you can't just eat burgers all the time." Dean says, pushing the menu down so he can look the angel in the face.
"You do." Cas points out and Sam makes a noise somewhere along the lines of an agreement.
"No, I don't" Dean argues back, "Yesterday I had a Monte Cristo sandwich. The day before that was pasta. You, on the other hand, have had nothing but hamburgers and you need to eat something else."
"I don't need to eat." Castiel replies flatly, "I simply enjoy the sensation."
The bickering continues, with Dean saying that just because he didn't need to didn't mean he shouldn't and if he was going to then it wouldn't be just hamburgers. Castiel argues back that it doesn't matter what he eats because he's an angel in a tone of voice that said this should have been the end of the conversation.
But Dean keeps going and by the end of it, he's threatening to simply order Castiel a salad.
And then, without warning, Cas it gone.
A simple flutter of wings and the angel has left the Winchesters alone at their booth. Dean blinks in surprise and looks around as if expecting to see Castiel pouting in a corner. He even waves the waitress off and goes to investigate the restrooms to see if Cas is hiding there. When he returns, unsuccessfully, he finds Sam gaping out the window, a confused and bemused expression on his face.
"What?" Dean flops back into the seat, sulking slightly.
Sam simply raises a hand and points out the window at the tree outside the restaurant. It's the tree Dean camped the Impala under to keep the leather out of the sun and the interior cool.
And curled up in the branches, trenchcoat hunched around his shoulders, a surly expression on his face, is Castiel.
"What the hell…" Dean peers at Cas through the window, trying to catch the angel's gaze but Castiel is glaring pointedly at the roof of the building and ignoring him completely. Dean turns instead to Sam, "What the hell!"
Sam just shrugs, "I'm not going out there to get him down."
Dean scowls at him, scoots out of the booth, and heads out the door. The air outside is crisp, summer on the edge of fall, and the tips of the leaves are starting to turn. Dean stops underneath the tree, looking up into the tree. From his angle below the branches, all he can make out of Castiel is the edge of a tan trenchcoat, the slacks, and a shoe. The rest is shadowed by leaves and branches.
"Cas, get down here."
"No."
"Castiel, get your feathery ass back on the ground."
"Not until I can have a hamburger."
Dean makes a face. Seriously. Castiel is acting like the child who didn't get his way, the kid who wanted to get the candy and pouted when they were told they couldn't. This was unbelievable.
"Cas, I'm not gonna ask you again. Get. Down."
"No."
"Come down this second."
"Make me."
"Don't make me come up there."
"You won't."
"I'll pull you out of the fucking tree, Castiel!"
"No you won't."
Dean throws his hands up in the air in exasperation, "Fine, then you can stay up there." And he turns to go, huffing and muttering under his breath.
There is a soft breeze and Dean's way is suddenly blocked by a wall of dazzling lights and rainbows filtered through pure crystal in the shape of feathers. Cas has manifested his wings and stretched them out as far as he can go, curling them around the tree branches to stop Dean's progress. Dean glances at the tree, where he can now only see the toe of one of Castiel's shoes, and then reaches up and tugs on a handful of feathers. There's an indistinguishable noise from the branches. Dean reaches up even higher, feeling through the sunlight-on-the-water rainbows and grabs a thick handful of soft-as-sand feathers. He jerks on them sharply and Cas lets out a strangled noise halfway between pain and pleasure.
"You'd better come down or I'll pull some out and stuff a pillow with them." Dean calls.
No response from the angel in the tree.
"All right, you asked for it." Dean makes a big show of preparing to give the wings a particularly painful jerk when they beat out of his fingers and, in a sudden flurry of feathers and leaves, Castiel is on top of him. The angel's hands are pressed into Dean's shoulders, his legs straddling the man's stomach, his face inches away from Dean's surprised expression.
"Please do not pull on my feathers, Dean."
Dean simply grins, "It got you out of the tree."
Castiel turns his head slightly and then the ghost of a smile turns the corners of his lips up ever so slightly, "Did it get me a burger?"
"That depends on how good you are."
"Good at what?"
And not caring that people were peering through the window of the restaurant to watch, not carrying that Sam would get all flustered and huffy about it later, not caring that this had all started because of a stupid argument, Dean twists his fingers into Castiel's light-feathers, hoists himself up, and smothers the angel—his angel—in kisses until his lips go numb.
