dand_eli_on
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Summary
That one verse where Dean and Cas are good at talking during sex but not about the fact they're having sex.
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He tilts his head and dredges up one more tiny miracle, and somewhere in a very self-important county clerk’s office, paperwork is filed that declares Anthony J. Crowley the owner of a small, out-of-the-way cottage in the South Downs.
It is as good a place as any, to wait for the end of the world.
Bookmarked by dand_eli_on
21 Mar 2026
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A year ago, the world didn't end. Now it's summer and the cicadas are buzzing, and something is changing. Something is going to give.
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“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says.
Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away.
Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.
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Bookmarked by dand_eli_on
20 Mar 2026
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“I’ve never had a Christmas before,” Cas says as they make their way back to the makeshift living room, “I’m not entirely sure what it entails.”
Dean grins and slings an arm around Cas’s shoulders, “Well then,” he says, overwhelming fondness spreading out through his veins and solidifying into determination, “I guess I’d better make this the best Christmas ever.”