We know a little about a lot of things; just enough to make us dangerous.
A muggle-born’s sibling sends them a howler in the middle of the school year and it arrives while they eat. When they open it, all it does is simply scream “WHAT TEAM?”. Nearly all the muggle-borns shout “WILDCATS!” before returning to their meal, leaving the pure-bloods in total confusion of what the hell they just witnessed.
possibly the most amazing thing about today: i am currently a mere two hours from a city called BATMAN
What are your head canons regarding Dean and Cas’ first kiss?
I want to know.
I feel like it couldn’t happen unless something catastrophic happened. With Dean being how he is, especially with the added thing of being a demon and how that changes, Cas would force himself to keep his emotional and physical distance.
It wouldn’t be easy. Castiel would crave closeness, his mostly human body begging for the familiar warmth of Dean while his Grace, however broken and stunted, would shy away from the powerful demon, twisting painfully and pushing for destruction whenever the two were near. Cas had always known he loved Dean, but after hearing Metatron speak about it so openly, after baring his intentions out loud—you drape yourself in the flag of Heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right?—this would have changed for Cas. He’d feel liberated, in a way; enlightened. He’d understand completely.
And perhaps, if Dean was still human, he could have understood as well… but not as a demon. Despite still being Dean, Castiel would understand that his Love is different. That Dean wouldn’t be capable of love, let alone return his feelings. So, Castiel would take every part of Dean he could get, and he’d selfishly hoard those moments, picking them apart and cradling them deep within his chest when he’d tuck himself into bed at night.
But then the unthinkable would happen, and Cas would be shaking his head, cradling Dean’s cold, heavy body in his trembling arms. And Dean wouldn’t be bleeding, and he wouldn’t be sneering, and even through tear-hazy eyes Castiel would finally see his Dean, gorgeous in any form but peaceful only in death. Cas wouldn’t hear Sam screaming, he wouldn’t feel the thump of the other hunter as his body hit the floor, he’d only have eyes for Dean. Perfect Dean. Selfless Dean. Departed Dean.
And it wouldn’t matter then. Nothing would matter. There would be no consequence of any kind. So, with his Grace twisting agony against his heart, Castiel would lean down and let go, wet lashes fanning out against his cheeks as he’d, finally, kiss the man he loved. He’d run bloody, dirt encrusted fingers through light hair, he’d lean his forehead against Dean’s, and he’d whisper everything he never let himself say; either because he couldn’t understand it or it wasn’t the right time or he couldn’t make Dean uncomfortable with it. He wouldn’t notice the blue light that passed through his mouth because his heart wouldn’t stop twisting. He wouldn’t notice the slight shake of Dean’s ribs because Cas would be trembling hard enough for the both of them.
But he’d hear the wheezing. He’d hear the choking. And when green eyes would open, devoid of familiar black, Castiel would fret over now bloodying wounds over talking about feelings. He’d tell Dean to be quiet when the hunter would try to talk, he’d tell him to be still when Dean tried to reach out.
It would only be weeks later, Sam out getting food, when Dean would finally explode, sick and tired of Castiel doting on him and tiptoeing around the Bunker like he was made of glass. It would only be until he’d shakily gotten to his feet, still recovering, and basically ploughed Cas over that the former angel would listen, blue eyes wide despite the fact that his hands tried to coax the other man back to bed.
And Dean would finally tell him he knew. He knew about the Grace. He knew about Metatron’s game. He knew that Cas come in his room every night and watched him sleep, staring at the up and down motion of his chest until Dean began to stir. And he’d tell Castiel, softly, threading their fingers together, that he’s not made of glass. He’d tell Cas that it’s okay to take care of people, but you have to let them take care of you, too. And he’d tell Cas, in no uncertain terms, that he, Dean, will always take care of him, because that’s what you do for the people you love.
Then he’d kiss Cas with everything he had, everything he wanted to say but didn’t the words for, and tug his angel—Graceless or not—back to bed.
And they’d take care of each other.
remember when teen titans had that really powerful arc about rejecting abusive family and that surrounding yourself with good people who make you happy is the most important thing and no one should force you to do anything you don’t want to do and sometimes friends are better family than the people who you’re actually related to