Cockles Valentine’s Day

havntedean:

“So uhh… ‘Love yourself first’?”

Jensen grins and hides the faint blush blooming on the tops of his cheeks. “Yeah. What about it?”

It’s only been 10 minutes since he gave him that stupid card and along with the glitter sticking to his hands, clothes, wherever the fuck, the memory of Misha’s gummy smile and sweet voice replays constantly in his mind.

Everybody else had left the green room almost right after the video was over. Not surprising since, somehow, the floor is now covered in glue, glitter and prices of stray paper. Looking back over his shoulder, Jensen eyes soften as he notices the redness on Misha’s cheeks.

“Nothing. Just… Really nice is all.” Misha hangs his head and picks at the stray string of fabric hanging off the cuff of his shirt. This is different. It always is with them. They weren’t very subtle with their attraction to one another, they’ve been told time and time again. The attraction though, grew into something else entirely as they spent more and more time together. Shyness on the other hand was something that both of the men had to experience when they were alone with one another. That was never going to change. The blush on both their faces were evidence enough.

“Mish, are you blushing?”

Snapping his head up, Misha scoffs. “Wha- what no! No it’s just a nice things to say is all.” The slight smile on Misha’s face turned downward while he brings a hand up to nervously roll the fabric of the collar at his neck. “Interesting choice of words.”

Oh. He’s not upset that I wrote ‘Love Yourself’ and not ‘love Jen’ is he? Jensen frowns at the small twinge of pain in his chest. How could he think I don’t love him?

“You know I said that for a reason right?” Misha shrugs but stays silent, eyes looking everywhere but at the man in front of him. Reaching out, Jensen grabs Misha’s hand in his, pulling him closer and into his arms. Faces inches away from each other, Jensen can see the hurt in those blue eyes and his chest tightens again. “I said ‘love yourself first’ because you are so quick to believe in and love all the people around you but when it comes to you- you doubt yourself.” Jensen feels Misha’s head being slowly placed on his shoulder and he squeezes the man tighter. It’s comfortable and warm and he never wants to let the older man go. This is what he wants forever. How could Misha not see that? “I love you Mish… I only hope you know that and you do too. You deserve too.”

Misha lets out a small noise against his neck and buries his head deeper into Jensen’s shoulder, fingers digging into his back as he pulls him closer. “Oh you son of a bitch.”

Feeling a shuddered intake of air from Misha, Jensen brings a hand up to his hair and plays with the few soft strands at his nape. They stay that way for a while, rocking ever so slightly. Just enjoying the feel of one another.

“I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Have I rendered you speechless? If only I knew saying I love you would shut you up, I would’ve said it sooner.” Misha chuckles softly into the smooth skin on Jensen’s neck and lightly smacks his back in retaliation.

“Dick.”

Leaning back, Jensen puts on a stern face. “Hey now. I gave you a lovely card and all I got was a hug, I don’t think I’m the dick here.” Jensen cracks a grin and Misha leans in, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“I love you, Jen.”

Jensen’s eyes close as Misha kisses him softly. Moving away from his lips, Jensen kisses a slow trail up to Misha’s ear. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”

Humming, Misha leans into Jensen, breath increasing slightly. “You’re still a dick.”

Laughter fills the room and Misha smiles fondly at the man he loves. The con can wait for a moment, Misha decides as his hold gets tighter, but this can’t.

testchamber19:

ncrrington:

did u kno that st valentine is not only the patron saint of love, but also beekeeping, epilepsy, and the plague

#surprise your loved ones with bees and pestilence

Dean/Cas: Hopefully Next Year

puppycastiel:

My fix-it for 11.13 “Love Hurts.”

“So, who was it? Bach or Simpson?”

For a moment, there’s only silence, after which Dean says “Neither,” prompting Sam to look up. He isn’t sure whether Dean will tell him, tension and uncertainty in those pained, green eyes. Then, with a quiet sigh, Dean finally relents.

“It was Cas.”

Sam raises an eyebrow though not out of shock. Surprised that Dean confided, yes, but he’d expected the name. Who else could it be?

“Are you surprised?” he hedges gently.

Dean squares his shoulders at that. Defensive. Sam doesn’t miss the tick in his jaw. “That it was Cas? Hell yes, I’m… I’m-” He turns away, stares resolutely at the wall, and Sam is sympathetic. “Dean. Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s-” Dean clenches his fists, mutters under his breath, “I’m not good for him, Sam. I’m bad news.”

Sam feels his heart break, for his brother and for Cas, the bond between them. Tenacious and fragile, tested and strained again and again. But also hopeful - the brightest part of Dean - a part that Sam wants to help to preserve.

“Don’t you think he should be the judge of that?”

Dean ducks his head and lets out one hollow, rueful laugh. “Yeah, trust Cas to make the best choices for himself.”

“No one’s accusing you of doing that either.”

Dean’s mouth twitches upward. “Ouch. Touché.”

Sam releases the breath he was holding as the tension seeps out of the room. It doesn’t escape his notice that Dean’s hand slips into his jacket pocket, running his fingers over his cell while the should I and shouldn’t I war in his mind.

Dean is restless on the drive back home, right knee bouncing like a little kid and barely saying a word till they stop for gas. He tries to leave the car for snacks but fumbles with his seatbelt, flushed in frustration, and it’s honestly so difficult to watch that Sam says “Call him” and steps out himself.

He spends some extra time going up and down the aisles, sneaking occasional glances out the window where he sees Dean lean back against Baby. He’s got his phone up by his ear, though with his back toward Sam, Sam can’t tell if he’s talking. He grabs a water and a Coke from the cooler and decides to browse the tiny Gas-n-Sip one final time - or two.

“How’d it go?” he asks a bit later, sipping his water and watching amusedly as the deep, deep pink dusts across Dean’s cheeks. 

“I mean, whatever, I just… said I’d see him at the bunker. You got everything?” Dean clears his throat.

Sam laughs, shaking his head. It’s still progress. Baby steps. “How’s he doing?” he asks instead while Dean starts the car and pulls out of the lot.

“Okay, I think. Researching, mostly.” Dean frowns. “Although- I dunno, Sammy, something’s up. He… I might just need some sleep, but, he sounds off.”

“Off?”

“Yeah,” Dean seems nervous, tightening the grip he’s got on the wheel. “It’s not just the voice, I- Something’s goin’ on… I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Sam nods, all remnants of teasing gone from his demeanor at the look on Dean’s face. “We’ll figure it out, once we’re back at the bunker. It’s probably nothing. We’ll figure it out.”

---

In the war room, Lucifer smiles, reading Dean’s text on Castiel’s phone, sent just minutes after their call.

‘Hopefully next Valentine’s, we’ll be case-free,’ it says.

“Oh, how sweet. Right, little brother? Looks like your hunter finally manned up.”

Inside, upon hearing this, the other angel closes his eyes. He commits Dean’s message to memory, whispers to no one, ‘I hope so too.’

grandpadean:

now that cas knows LITERALLY EVERY FILM EVER, maybe he will woo dean with pop culture this valentine’s day! “i’m just an angel, standing in front of a man, asking him to love him. [holds up ipod blasting ‘in your eyes’]”