回复：【无授权翻译】【Destiel】多篇小甜文QwQ

9.23
The first time Dean sees Cas after his transformation, his eyes go green.
There are a million new, unfamiliar instincts telling him to fight the angel standing in front of him, to preserve himself and destroy what little amount of grace that’s keeping Cas on his feet. It’d be easy, really. Dean is strong right now, newly transformed, and Cas is the weakest he’s ever been… No. This is Cas, he reminds himself, and forces whatever this newer, darker version of himself is to take a seat.
"Dean?"
The word cuts into his thoughts and he feels his fists uncurl at his sides, his muscles involuntarily relaxing at the sound of Cas’s voice. He looks up and feels shame roll in his stomach. Cas is obviously exhausted, standing with his shoulders slouched and looking at Dean with heavy, bloodshot eyes. He takes a step forward and blinks slowly, looking at Dean as if he’s not sure that he’s actually there or not.
"It’s me," Dean says slowly, and God help him if his voice doesn’t crack like something straight out of a Julia Roberts movie.
Cas smiles, it’s brief and barely-there—no more than a slight flash of his usual grin—but it’s there, and Dean feels it settle somewhere dangerously close to his heart. “Good,” Cas says, and the smile is gone.
"Yeah," Dean nods, trying a smile of his own. It feels weird, too out of place, and he drops it.
"Are you okay?" Cas asks, and he takes a slight step forward; still cautious.
Dean doesn’t blame him.
"Peachy, Cas," he flashes his eyebrows. "You know, just unwinding after a long day of being the thing that I’ve hated and hunted for literally my entire life. Livin’ the dream, man."
Cas’s face softens at this, his head tilting to the side and his smile returning, more there this time. He still looks exhausted as he takes a couple more steps forward, Dean thinks, but he doesn’t look quite so shattered. He takes a deep breath and nods as he looks at Dean, like he’d managed to drop a weight somewhere on his way there, and Dean realizes that he’d been waiting for some sign that Dean was actually himself this entire time.
"Dean," Cas says again, and this time he places a hand on Dean’s shoulder.
Dean flinches slightly as pain flares up in his right arm; a sharp stabbing emanating from the mark like whatever he is now is trying to keep Cas from coming anywhere near him. Kill, some part of him says, but he doesn’t recognize the thought as his own so he shoves it down; finding that it’s easier to ignore when he’s looking at Cas.
"It hurts, doesn’t it?" Cas asks. "Being near me."
Dean nods, clenching his eyes shut, “Half of me has wanted to bludgeon you with a lamp since you stepped in the room.”
Cas’s smile returns, which is odd, Dean thinks, given that he’d just admitted to wanting to kill him for the past ten minutes.
"And what has the other half wanted to do?" Cas asks, and the hand that was on Dean’s shoulder moves to rest on his cheek.
Standing this close, Dean can see Cas’s face more clearly; all the lines creasing his forehead and the broken blood vessels in his eyes; the dark circles and smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Dean has seen the look too many times before to ignore what it means. Cas has beengrieving. He’s been grieving Dean.
"You would kiss a demon?" Dean asks, and wow, he really hopes that this is what Cas is talking about.
Cas shakes his head and rubs his thumb over Dean’s cheek, pulling Dean down until their foreheads bump and rest against one another. “I would kiss you,” he whispers, and a second later, he’s doing just that.
It’s a gentle kiss, slow and soft and a just a little bit earth-shattering. Dean can feel himself getting lost in it, swept up in the careful slide of Cas’s tongue against his own and the soft humming coming from Cas’s throat.
When they pull apart, Dean buries his face in the side of Cas’s neck and sags against him, bone-weary and feeling safe for the first time in months.
Cas just holds him, arms around his waist and palms pressed against his back. He presses his lips to the side of Dean’s head and whispers something that sounds a lot like, "You’re alive," into his hair, letting out a long sigh as Dean hums and holds on tighter.
"You really think I’m gonna make it through this without going dark side?"
"If anyone could, it would be you, Dean," Cas says, pulling away just far enough to kiss Dean’s forehead.
It’s not a yes, Dean knows, hell, it’s not even a maybe, but right now—with Cas’s arms wrapped around his waist and the darker half of himself locked safely away somewhere in the back of his mind—he thinks that it just might be enough.

哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈这个笑死我了！甜腻腻的撒比小情侣wwww！作者bookkbaby，tumblr无授权www
这件事的起因非常无害。Cas仍在学习如何适应成为一个人类，如何与人交际（说真的，Dean自己也在适应这个），所以当Cas对他说“把那本书给我，小甜心儿”的时候，Dean的脑子一片空白。
好吧，也许不是一片空白，但这个昵称真的没什么好评论的。但在不到15分钟之内，当他听到Cas说出下面这些话的时候，他的确感到了一丝惊恐：
“我想我可能发现了什么有趣的东西，小心肝儿。”
Dean死死盯着他，有些震惊地微张着嘴。Cas皱眉，疑惑地看着他。
“哥们儿，你是认真的？”Dean说。Cas点头，表情很明确。
“是的。这本书里有一部分讲到了--”
“不是说那书，Cas，”Dean说，“我是说……'小心肝儿'？”
“这是个爱称，”Cas皱着眉回应道，“就像'小甜心儿'一样的。”
Dean摇着头笑了。
*~*~*~*~*~*
他以为这事这样就算完了。不出三天，当他们在去杂货店的路上，Sam留守地堡，Cas再次干了些什么。“我们没漏掉什么吧？”Dean问。Cas认真地看着购物清单皱着眉。
“我没发现有遗漏，小淘气儿。”Cas回答。他的声音如此淡然，以至于Dean愣了一会儿才反应过来他说了个啥。他一定发出了类似干咳的声音，因为Cas皱着眉头转向他，“不是吗？”
“是的，Cas，'不'，”Dean说，他摇着头，脸上尴尬得发烫。Cas点点头，然后若有所思地，再次开口。
“小顽皮儿？“
Dean再次咳了起来。
*~*~*~*~*~*
镇上那家能做出世界上最好吃的派的面包店在打折。Dean欣喜若狂地几乎是拖着Cas一个柜台一个柜台地看过去，口水都要滴下来了。
“他们有荷兰苹果派！”Dean兴奋地说。他很确定在他到那儿之前它们就会被卖光，但下一秒它们就出现在了他面前，金灿灿的脆脆的简直完美。
“我们要多少，小蛋糕儿？”Cas问。
有那么一瞬间，Dean以为他问的是食物。然后他在脑子里仔细分析了一遍这个句子，瞬间感觉到他的脸变得通红。Cas皱眉。
“小种马儿？”
Dean只想说其他的顾客们似乎都忙着选购而没有听到Cas说了啥真是谢天谢地。他转向Cas，视线在这家小商店里四处流转，尴尬得不行。
“听着，Cas--”他说，但他不知道这话该怎么说。Cas的眉头皱得更深。
“出什么事了，派宝贝儿？”
Dean用手遮住脸。
“别这么叫我。”他说。他把手从脸上挪下来，只见Cas看起来又难过又后悔。
“对不起，Dean。”他说。Dean觉得不那么尴尬了。他叹了口气。
“别介意，”他向Cas伸出一只手，Cas松了口气，微笑着牵上他，“我们去买点儿派吧。”
*~*~*~*~*~*
最后一根稻草在两天后的晚餐时压了上来。
“把盐递给我好吗，小屎蛋儿？”
Dean喷出一口啤酒。Sam被土豆泥呛到了。Cas望着他们俩，表情茫然而迷惑。
“兄弟，他刚才--”Sam喘着气，这次他被自己的笑呛到咳嗽而不是食物。他笑得眼泪都出来了，于是放弃了尝试说话，喀啷地一把扔下他的叉子背过身子大笑。
“小熊崽儿？”Cas试着说。Sam笑得更加歇斯底里了。Dean知道这会儿他的脸一定红透了，他希望地上突然出现个洞让他跳进去。
“这些绰号是怎么回事？”他问Cas，希望能得到解释而不是成为有史以来最尴尬的男友。Cas皱起眉。
“它们是一种爱的表现，”他有些恼火地说，“我只是想--”他叹了口气转开视线，“我不善于表达情感，所以我做了一些研究，知道了爱称作为一种羁绊的表现在伴侣间很常见。”
Dean觉得他的心融化了。他的脸仍然很红，但他发现他越来越不在意Sam还坐在一边，带着一种很喜庆的表情看着他们。
Dean向Cas伸出手，Cas牵过它，他看起来仍然为他笨拙且并没有发挥很好的作用的的尝试而感到很沮丧。Dean捏了捏他的手。
“你不用做这些也已经很好了。”Dean说。他清了清嗓子，然后，在警告地瞪了Sam一眼之后继续道，“但如果你愿意……我想你可以叫我'亲爱的'。”
Cas看起来很惊讶，然后他的脸上充满了快乐。Dean呆呆地望着他。
“谢谢你，亲爱的。”Cas说，尝试着说出了这个新的昵称。除此之外，Dean感到他的脸再次烧了起来而他的心跳加速。这一次，他没有感到任何不适。他笑了，是那种暖心的笑。
他可以适应“亲爱的”。
“不客气，亲爱的。”

It had started off innocuously enough. Cas was still learning, adjusting to being human and in a relationship (truth be told, Dean was still adjusting to the latter himself), so Dean thought nothing of it when Cas said, “Pass me that book, sugar.”
Well, maybe not nothing, but the pet name hadn’t seemed worth commenting on. He was slightly more disconcerted when, not fifteen minutes later, Cas said;
"I think I may have found something in this, fructose."
Dean just stared, mouth slightly open in shock. Cas frowned, confused.
"Dude, seriously?" Dean said. Cas nodded, expression clearing.
"Yes. This book has a section on-"
"Not the book, Cas," Dean said. "Just… ‘fructose’?"
"It’s a sweetener," Cas said defensively, scowling. "Like ‘sugar’."
Dean just shook his head and chuckled.
*~*~*~*~*~*
He’d thought that had been the end of it. Not three days later, on their way to to grocery store while Sam held down the fort, Cas did it again.
"Are we forgetting anything?" Dean asked. Cas was looking intently at the list and frowning.
"Nothing I can see, pumpkin," Cas replied. His voice was so nonchalant it took Dean a moment to recognize what he said. He must have made a choking sound, because Cas turned towards him with a frown. "No?"
"Yes, Cas, ‘no’," Dean said, shaking his head while his face heated with embarrassment. Cas nodded and then, looking thoughtful, he spoke again.
"Acorn squash?"
Dean choked again.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The bakery in town that made the best pies ever was having a sale. Dean was ecstatic and practically dragged Cas from display to display, his mouth watering.
"They’ve got Dutch apple!" Dean said excitedly. He’d been certain they would sell out well before he arrived, but there they were, golden and crisp and perfect.
"How many are we getting, cupcake?" Cas asked.
For a moment, Dean thought it was a request for food. Then he parsed the sentence and felt his face go bright red. Cas frowned.
"Stud muffin?"
Dean was just thankful that all the other customers seemed to be too distracted to hear what Cas was saying. He turned to Cas, gaze darting around the small shop, embarrassed.
"Look, Cas-" he said, but he had no idea where to go with that sentence. Cas’s frown only deepened.
"Is something the matter, cuddle pie?"
Dean buried his face in his hands.
"Don’t call me that," he said. He dragged his hands down his face, only to see Cas looking sad and contrite.
"I’m sorry, Dean," he said. Dean felt some of his embarrassment fade. He sighed.
"Don’t worry about it." He offered Cas his hand, which Cas took with a relieved smile. "Let’s go get some pie."
*~*~*~*~*~*
The final straw came at dinner two days later.
"Pass me the salt, smoochie-poo?"
Dean spat out his beer. Sam choked on his mashed potatoes. Cas stared at them both in complete confusion.
"Dude, he just-" Sam was gasping now, choking on his laughter instead of the food. There were actual tears in his eyes. He gave up trying to speak, dropping his fork with a clatter as he doubled over, laughing.
"Snuggle bear?" Cas tried. Sam’s hysterics only increased. Dean knew his face had to be bright red and he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.
"What’s with the nicknames?" he asked Cas, hoping that there was some kind of explanation for this other than being the most embarrassing boyfriend ever. Cas scowled.
"They’re a sign of affection," he said, exasperated. "I just want-" He sighed and looked away. "I’m not good at human expressions of affection yet, so I did some research and pet names are common among couples as a sign of their bond."
Dean felt his heart melt. His face was still flushed, but he found he cared less and less that Sam was still sitting right there, watching them with an amused expression.
Dean extended his hand to Cas, who took it, still looking upset that his clumsy attempts at affection hadn’t gone well. Dean squeezed his hand.
"You do just fine without all that," Dean said. He cleared his throat and, after sending a warning glance to Sam, he continued. "But if you want… I guess you can call me ‘honey’."
Cas looked surprised, then his face melted into joy. Dean watched, transfixed.
"Thank you, honey," Cas said, trying the new nickname out. Despite himself, Dean felt his face flush and his heart trip. This time, neither sensation was unpleasant. He smiled, heart warm.
He could get used to ‘honey’.
"Sure thing, sweetie pie."

啊啊啊对不起今天坑了，由于我对自己速度的错误估计导致复习笔记还没整完，今天没有时间更新了对不起。。。

阿哈哈今天早上刚考完一门于是来偷个懒，后天考N1求爆人品啦啦啦！
tumblr，spnficlets，无授权。
“拜托了，只是今晚就好。”Castiel说道，他坐在床沿，紧紧将他刚刚救下的黑色小毛球抱在赤裸的胸前。地堡那么冷，即使在炎热的酷夏；而这只小猫崽那么小，他真担心如果把她放在地上她会被冻僵。
“不。”Dean回答，他紧绷着下巴，板直了肩，完全开启了一种Cas认为是“我不会答应的，而你也别想说服我让步”的模式。
“但Dean…”
“不。”Dean用双臂在胸前比划了一个大叉。“但是…”Castiel再次开口--“不。”
“那么，我们可以睡沙发。”Castiel试探地说道，然后从床上站起来向沙发迈步，却被某个扫兴的人挡住了脚步。
“你怎么就非得这么固执呢Cas？”Dean的声音听起来非常难以置信，就和他看到Castiel轻搔小猫崽的脖颈时的表情一样。
“你非得？”Castiel重复了一遍Dean的话作为回答，眯起眼睛，抱着小猫强调她是多么小，为什么她不应该独自过夜。
“上帝，”Dean咕哝着摇了摇头，“好吧。但她只能睡在你那半边床上否则就得滚蛋。”
“好的。”Castiel愉快地笑着回答。当Dean转过身走向他自己的那半边床，Cas把小猫崽转过来捧到脸前鼻尖相贴，告诉她，“你必须按爹地说的做否则我们就只能睡沙发了，Muffin。”
“我听见了，”Dean边躺下边说，“你可别给我们的小猫崽取这种烂名字'Muffin'。”

"Please, just for tonight," Castiel says as he sits down on the edge of the bed, holding the newly rescued squirming ball of black fur protectively against his bare chest. The bunker is so cold even in summer and the kitten is so small he’s afraid she will catch a chill if left to her own devices on the floor.
"No," Dean answers, his jaw set and his shoulders squared in what Cas recognizes as his "I’m not gonna, and you can’t make me" stance.
"But, Dean.."
"No." Dean crosses his arms over his chest."But.. " Castiel starts again
"No.”
"Then, we will sleep on the couch,” Castiel says testily as he rises from the bed and starts to step around the spoilsport blocking his path.
"Are you really that stubborn, Cas?" Dean’s voice is as incredulous as his face as he watches Castiel nuzzle the back of the kitten’s neck.
"Are you?” Castiel asks Dean by way of reply, narrowing his eyes and holding the kitten up to emphasize how small she is and why she shouldn’t be left alone all night.
"Jesus," Dean mutters, shaking his head. "Fine. But she’s staying on your side of the bed or out she goes.”
"Fine," Castiel says with a pleased smile. When Dean turns away to walk around the bed to his own side, Cas turns the kitten around so that they’re nose-to-nose and tells her, "You have to do what daddy says or we’ll have to sleep on the couch, Muffin."
"I heard that,” Dean says as he flops down on the bed. ”And you’re not calling our kitten ‘Muffin’.”

“Dear Castiel, who art maybe running his ass away from Heaven, we pray that you have your ears on. So… Breaker, breaker?”
Dean opens his eyes slowly but no luck. Whatever weird-ass world they’ve fallen into, they seem to have fallen into it without Cas. Which is fine, whatever. They’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this without him.
Sam closes his eyes with a sigh and rubs his face frustratedly. Yep. That’s pretty much what Dean’s feeling too.
“Okay so, any plan B?” Dean asks hopefully after a minute of standing there silently, hoping despite himself that he’ll hear that tell-tale sound of fluttering wings.
Sam opens his eyes and Dean can see the gears in his head grind to a jarring halt and he only has a second to wonder what the hell’s managed to make him speechless before he feels a pair of very strong, very warm, very male arms wind around his waist and pull him tightly back against a very solid chest.
[[MORE]]
“Hey handsome,” a voice says in his ear and Dean shivers at the sound of it. There’s something familiar about it, like it’s almost a voice he knows, “What was plan A?”
Sam is staring wide-eyed at whoever it is currently holding Dean prisoner and when Dean feels warm, gentle hands slip beneath his shirt to stroke affectionately at heated skin he jumps and spins around. Whoever this dude is has some serious personal spa–
And then Dean’s head joins Sam’s in complete system error.
It’s Cas. Except it’s definitely not Cas. He looks the same and yet he doesn’t look the same and Dean’s pretty sure his mouth is hanging open.
“You’re not Cas,” he says with wide eyes and the man grins and looks down at his worn jeans and ridiculous blue sweater.
“Nope,” he says, looking back up at Dean with a warm smile, “They pushed back my scene with Seb until tomorrow so I’m free to go.” He steps back into Dean’s space and winds an arm around him so casually it’s like he barely notices. Something sticks in Dean’s throat at the thought that this seems to be a perfectly natural way for this Cas and ‘Jensen Ackles’ to behave.
Not-Cas frowns a little when Dean fails to respond in whatever way he’s expected to and tilts his head in a way that’s painfully familiar, “You okay, Jen?”
Jen? Dean swallows and nods jerkily, “Uh Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Good. Tired.”
He’s rambling, he knows he is but Not-Cas just looks at him fondly like that’s not entirely out of character so Dean relaxes just a little, and tries to ignore the way this man’s arm around him feels kind of nice.
“Okaaay,” Not-Cas drawls with a slow grin, and Dean’s throat tightens at the way his voice lowers, sounding more like the one he recognises, “Well maybe later I can help you relax.”
Dean’s breath catches audibly and the man’s grin widens. Sam lets out some kind of strangled squeak of surprise and Not-Cas tears his eyes away from Dean to roll his eyes at him.
“Oh please Jared, don’t pretend like you haven’t seen worse than this.”
Sam’s face is probably a picture of mortification right now, but Dean is too busy trying to process what’s happening to turn and look. The man turns back to Dean with a gentler smile and lifts one hand to touch his rapidly heating cheek.
“Seriously Jen,” he says, voice suddenly serious and eyes kind, “You sure you’re okay?”
Dean nods and the man clearly isn’t buying it, but he lets it go all the same and Dean thanks God for small mercies. Not-Cas sighs and lets his fingers stroke softly down his cheek to rest tenderly against his neck and Dean really hopes he can’t feel how fast his heart is beating.
“I’m gonna head off then, leave you guys to your suspicious plans,” the man says with a small smile, arm around his waist tightening slightly, “You gonna be home for dinner?”
Oh son of a bitch. Dean’s head is spinning, there is no way fake-him lives with fake-Cas in some kind of weird, gay, domestic bliss. Like hell is he going to be home for dinner.
“Sure,” he breathes and what? That’s really not what he’d meant to say.
“Okay,” Not-Cas smiles and there’s so much emotion in his familiar blue eyes that it knocks the wind out of Dean more effectively than a blow to the stomach. Before his lungs remember just how to take in air, there’s a pair of soft, chapped lips pressed against his and Dean feels like he’s never going to breathe again. They linger against him like they belong there. Like they’ve been there hundreds of times before and will be there a hundred times more.
When Not-Cas pulls away it’s with a smile and he’s still close enough that his nose is nudging Dean’s.
“See you later then,” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek and giving his waist a final squeeze before letting go and stepping back.
“See you tomorrow, Pada-Moose!” he grins playfully at Sam and out the corner of his eye, Dean sees his brother raise his hand in an awkward wave. Not-Cas walks backwards for a while, holding eye contact with Dean in a way that’s weirdly reminiscent of his Cas, before he salutes exaggeratedly and turns.
Dean watches him with wide eyes until he turns a corner and he’s left staring at an empty space. He tries very hard not to wonder why he didn’t tell the dude to back off at any point.
Sam coughs awkwardly from behind him and for the first time since Not-Cas arrived, Dean turns to look at him. Sam holds up his phone with a grimace.
“So,” he says with a grimace, “Turns out Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins are kind of a thing.”
“What?” Dean asks weakly.
“The actor who plays Cas,” Sam says, gesturing to the spot Not-Cas had been, “His name’s Misha. And you’ve been together since,” he looks down at his phone again, “Last year.”
“Together,” Dean says, the word sending him reeling even though it had been pretty damn obvious by the way Misha had kissed him, “Me and fake Cas,” he runs a shaky hand through his hair, “What the ever loving fuck.”
Sam shrugs apologetically and there’s something in the way he looks at Dean that Dean really doesn’t want to analyse.
“Come on,” Sam says, taking pity on Dean and steering him towards the collection of trailers a few feet away, “We need to find out what the hell’s going on and fast, or you’re gonna be playing house with the guy.”
Dean agrees and tries to pretend the thought of playing house with the real Cas is completely unpleasant and ignores the treacherous feeling of excitement at the thought of feeling those lips on his again.
Going home to the guy would be dangerous, Dean has enough self-insight to know that for sure. He doesn’t need to look at his Cas and know what those lips would feel like pressing eagerly into his own. He doesn’t need to look at those hands and know what they’d feel like stroking goosebumps into his skin. He doesn’t need to look at those arms and know what it’s like to feel safe in them.
So Dean settles with Sam inside Jensen’s trailer and searches desperately for a solution and when Sam smirks and points out the framed picture of Jensen and Misha smiling goofily at the camera with arms wrapped familiarly around each other, Dean just frowns and grumbles darkly under his breath.
“What the hell kind of name is Misha anyway.”

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“你真他妈的棒。”Dean在他身后的某处如此说道，Cas从他正坐着的地堡里的旧沙发上转过身来。Dean靠着门框，手里拿着一瓶廉价的威士忌，调笑地看着他。
Cas佯怒地一笑并翻了翻眼睛，“你也是，Dean。但我认为也许你该去睡觉了。”
“不--”Dean哀鸣着看着Cas站起来，伸过手架起他的胳膊开始把他往外带，“别啊你听我说，我查过了！”他抓住搭在他手臂上的手，温热的手指缠进Cas的指缝，这让Cas感到脸颊充血，他希望Dean没有注意到他几乎因此而沉醉。
他踉踉跄跄地把Dean带到卧室，当Dean放开他的手时，Cas试图用困惑皱眉的表情掩饰他更加臊红的脸（他试图不去想失去那些手指带来的无情的温暖有多么冷），并因此而感到更加兴奋。
“我查过字典了，Cas！”他吃吃地笑着，看起来自豪得有些可笑，于是Cas忍不住笑出声来。
“你在说什么，Dean？”他问，微笑着看着Dean翻开字典用手指在纸页上划过一个个词条。
Dean清了清嗓子抑扬顿挫地念道，“Awesome：令人非常难忘或赞叹不已的激动人心的感觉；极度的印象深刻；鼓舞人心的。”Dean抬起头欢快地对他笑着说，“这正是你！”
Cas低下头无声地轻笑，“你喝醉了，Dean。”他说着，轻轻摇头，抬起眼看进Dean眼里。
Dean只是再次清了清喉咙并提高了音量，“同义词！”他读着，Cas再次笑出声来，走上前去让他安静，推着他坐到床边。
Dean看起来有点惊讶，之后又为这态度的突然转变而感到一丝疑惑，但很快愉悦的笑容爬上他的嘴角，他伸出一只手一把握住Cas的手腕，把他拉向自己让他坐在自己身边。Cas很乐意坐在他身边，非常努力地试图不要为Dean轻微摇摆身体的方式而笑出声（并且希望Dean不要注意到他突然在Dean的手指触碰下加快的脉搏）。
“同义词，”Dean重复道，他一手握着Cas的手腕，一手横过字典用Cas的手指着下一个词，“攫夺呼吸的，令人赞叹的，极好的。”
Cas的鼻息随着Dean从大部头的字典里抬头并与他视线相交而变得急促，他的拇指温柔地摩擦以感受涌动在Cas皮肤下的脉搏。
然后Dean微笑着，这次是个柔和的抿着嘴的笑容，然后他向前倾身就着这个动作和表情轻轻在那人微微发红的脸上轻触一吻。
“你真棒。”他叹息着低语道，那么轻柔得近乎虔诚，像是吐露一个秘密，Cas感到它们流窜过他容器的每条脉络，渗进他借来的荣光里，令他沉醉晕眩。
很快Dean面带笑意地坠入梦乡，他带着小雀斑的脸颊靠在Cas的肩膀上；而当他在第二天清晨醒来，他发现当他的床垫上有两个重量时睡起来会更舒服。

tumblr，noangelsinthegarrison，无授权
顺便一说这篇是cockles
“这就想我了吗？”Jensen接起电话招呼道。他站在食品架的过道中央，对着面前令人眼花缭乱的货架皱起眉头，再次为Misha坚持每周进行各种不同的尝试而感到好奇。他还没找到该买什么就逛花了眼。
“是啊我们没有甘蓝了。”Misha说，毫无铺垫的转折，Jensen对此翻了个白眼。
“噢，有的…”他缓缓说道，“冰箱里还有两包。”
“不，并没有。”Misha肯定地回答，Jensen蹙眉。
“不，有的。我出门前检查过了。”
“好吧，是的，那时是有的。但现在没有了。”
Jensen轻轻眨了眨眼。
“Mish，我是说，”他看了一眼手表，“我才走了十五分钟。你总不可能这就把它们全啃光了。”
他听到Misha叹了口气，听起来有点睡意朦胧，“好吧，是的。我的确没有…发生了一点小意外。”
Jensen呻吟道，“Mishaaa。这他妈到底是--事实上我想说，我不想知道。”
Misha在电话那头轻笑，而Jensen叹息着说道，“厨房最好看起来和我离开时一模一样。”
“这取决于你到底怎么看了…”
Jensen闭上眼抬手捏了捏鼻梁。他默默在心里数到十，告诉自己这很可能只是Misha夸大其辞在逗他，然后深吸一口气。
“那么，”Misha开口道，Jensen睁开眼，把最近的食品随手扔到购物车上，“甘蓝？”
“不，”Jensen坚决否定，“我不会允许你这么干。”
“我只是试图吃点儿健康的！”
“那么也许你就不该浪费家里有的那两包那么好的！”Jensen严厉地谴责道，心烦意乱地胡乱抬手梳了把头发。
沉默，然后过了好几秒Misha的回答传来。
“我想离婚。”
Jensen嗤然道，“我们没结婚。”
“好吧那就是再也不！”Misha任性地回答，而Jensen再次哼了一声。
“真高兴得知我们虚构的婚姻存在与否取决于我是否给你买了甘蓝。”
“当然，”Misha面无表情地说，“你负责狩猎。如果你做不到，那么我真的不得不去寻找一个更可靠的伴侣了。”
Jensen翻着眼睛说，“哇哦，我真为我们虚构的婚姻感到高兴，”嘲讽的话语从舌尖吐露，但笑容却缓缓爬上他的脸，“你可真浪漫。”
“我该怎么做你才会答应我，Jensen？”Misha哭号道，Jensen能轻易地想像出他此时夸张地扑向沙发靠垫的样子，“一个可怜的，无助的家庭主夫此时该怎么做？！”
“试试别在我出门'狩猎'时在家里搞破坏怎么样？”Jensen笑吟吟地回答，“也许我才是那个需要一个'更可靠的伴侣'的人呢？”
Misha生气地叫嚷开，而Jensen大声地笑出来，吓到了身边路过的一对毫无警惕地买东西的小夫妻。
“嘿，”Misha若有所思地说，Jensen再次为Misha这种熟悉的突如其来地转变口气的方式打了个寒颤，“如果我们真的结婚了，我们是不是得叫Cockles？”
“不会。”Jensen坚定地否定，但他仍面带微笑，并且他知道Misha明白。
“不我们会的。”Misha回答，而Jensen知道此时他也在微笑。
“你真是个怪胎，”Jensen宠溺地说，“去打扫厨房。”
“你会买甘蓝吗？”
“不会。”他坚决地否定，然后挂了电话。
他把手机塞回口袋，叹息着轻笑出声。
他拎着五袋甘蓝走向收银台，笑容固执地挂在他脸上。

“Miss me already?” Jensen greets as he answers the phone. He’s standing in the middle of the cereal aisle, frowning at the wide range of choices in front of him and wondering again why Misha insists on trying something different every week. He’s losing track of what he hasn’t had yet.
“Yeah so we’re out of kale,” Misha says, without preamble, and Jensen rolls his eyes.
“Uh, noooo,” he says slowly, “There’re two bags in the fridge.”
“No, there aren’t,” Misha says firmly and Jensen frowns.
“Yes there are. I checked before I left.”
“Well yeah they were there then. But now they’re not.”
Jensen blinks slightly.
“Mish, I’ve been gone literally,” he checks his watch, “fifteen minutes. There’s no way you just ate all that.”
He hears Misha sigh, a little sheepishly, “Well no. I didn’t exactly… there was a mishap.”
Jensen groans, “Mishaaa. What the hell kind of – actually you know what? Don’t tell me.”
Misha chuckles a little over the line, and Jensen sighs, “The kitchen better look exactly how I left it when I get home.”
“Depends what you mean by exactly…”
Jensen closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He counts to ten and tells himself that in all likelihood, Misha’s exaggerating to wind him up. He takes a breath.
“So,” Misha says and Jensen opens his eyes and throws the nearest cereal into the cart, “kale?”
“No,” Jensen says firmly, “I’m not enabling whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m trying to eat healthily!”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have wasted the two perfectly good bags we had at home!” Jensen snaps, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
There’s a silence for all of three seconds before Misha responds.
“I want a divorce.”
Jensen snorts, “We’re not married.”
“Well not anymore we’re not!” Misha answers, petulantly, and Jensen snorts again.
“Good to know the survival of our fictional marriage rests on whether I supply you with kale.”
“Obviously,” Misha says, completely deadpan, “You’re the hunter-gatherer. If you fail, I really am forced to look elsewhere for a more sufficient mate.”
Jensen rolls his eyes, “Wow I’m so glad I fictional-married you,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue but smile creeping slowly onto his face, “You’re so romantic.”
“What am I supposed to do if you won’t provide for me, Jensen?” Misha cries, and Jensen can imagine him flinging himself dramatically back against the couch cushions, “What’s a poor, helpless househusband to do?!”
“How about not destroying the house while I’m out ‘hunting and gathering’!” Jensen replies, grinning, “Maybe I’m the one who needs a ‘more sufficient mate’.”
Misha huffs indignantly and Jensen laughs loudly, startling a couple of unwary shoppers next to him.
“Hey,” Misha says thoughtfully, and Jensen feels the familiar sense of whiplash he gets from Misha’s sudden change of tone, “If we actually did get married, would we change our names to Cockles?”
“No.” Jensen says firmly, but he’s still grinning and he knows Misha can tell.
“Yes we would,” Misha answers, and Jensen knows he’s grinning too.
“You’re a weirdo,” Jensen says fondly, “Now go tidy the kitchen.”
“Will you get the kale?”
“No.” He says firmly, and hangs up.
He shoves his phone back in his pocket and sighs with a laugh.
Five bags of kale later he heads to the checkout, smile still stubbornly in place.

wrong person waved back au. v short.
Sam was late. Again. He was always fucking late. He probably had to perfectly coif his hair or something.
Dean looked down at his watch and cursed under his breath. The movie was starting in fifteen minutes and Dean hated to complain, but he really didn’t want to miss the previews.
The wind picked up a bit. Dean hugged his jacket closer against his body.
Finally, he saw Sam’s frame in the crowd in the parking lot. It was pretty fucking hard to miss him. He stood at least a head and shoulders over most of the people around him.
"Frigging finally," Dean muttered under his breath.
He raised his hand in the air and waved it. Sam caught his eye and smiled weakly and apologetically. He waved back and Dean could see his quicken his pace.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another man, who’d been standing in front of Sam. He wore a slightly confused expression and his cheeks were beginning to go red. Dean felt his gut wrench in second-hand embarrassment. The dude had thought that he’d been waving at him.
It’d be a lie if Dean said that he hadn’t ever done it. He really did feel for the guy. He studied him. He had a slight frame and dishevelled hair. His clothes didn’t fit quite perfectly and he seemed a bit stiff and uncomfortable.
There was something that made Dean think that he really wanted to get to know this stranger.
He wished that that something was a little more sophisticated than it was. But honestly, his thoughts were along the lines of those romantic, love-at-first-sight cliches from the movies. He just simply thought: oh no, he’s hot.

其实。。。这篇我翻了好几次，但是每次都没有坚持翻完OTZ。因为虽然梗挺好玩的，但是感觉很难以往下看。这里发上来前两节，如果大家喜欢的话我再去翻后面三节！至于现在我想去翻另一篇之前粗看很可爱的，晚一点贴上来。
tumblr，robotmango，无授权。
厨事趣闻
DeanCas，S9 AU，一切与食物有关
AO3
……若有人听闻吾声，敞开大门，我必相伴于他，与之同餍，只有我和他。--启示录 3.20
他们坐在图书馆里，Dean仍然隐约能闻到它，廉价洗发水的香氛从Castiel身上传过来，他惬意地散发出一种类似肥皂泡泡的温暖感。他的脸颊带着一抹淡粉色，他的头发还有些潮，发尖儿在脑后靠近脖子的地方俏皮地打着卷儿。他看起来好像从没在生命中擦过头发一样。Dean知道他这个澡洗了一个半小时，也许还要长点儿。Sam之前敲过门询问Castiel是否还好，一段漫长的沉默之后，一个湿漉漉的脸红红的Castiel出现在门口，包在一条浴巾里，告诉Sam他很好，他只是试图调出正确的水温，并询问了Sam他能否再在那儿站一会儿。他已经把自己洗干净了，他说。Sam让他一边儿玩去。Dean什么都没说，因为这会儿Dean正像个婴儿一样躲在他的房间里，假装对Castiel找到一些干净衣服穿上有所帮助，实际上他也很好奇自己在发什么疯。
然后现在，Dean在这儿，一个图书馆里，假装在读一本书，虽然他很可能把它拿反了，看着Castiel啃一个微波卷饼，就好像它是来自Julia Child公司的私人定制品而不是Stouffer公司的量产货。Castiel再次咬了一大口他的卷饼，闭上眼睛一副享受的快乐表情，就像是人们在一幅知名画作面前或者夕阳斜照的海面面前时做出的表情一样。
“好吃吗？”Dean说。Castiel睁开眼睛眨了眨然后看着Dean，脸上带着一个俏皮的笑，尽管他的嘴里塞满了卷饼。他看起来真他妈的有趣极了。
“嗯。”他说，努力地嚼吧并吞咽着，“这个，”他说，停顿了一下，然后盯着卷饼看了一会，“饥饿的感觉很新鲜。虽然并不是那么令人愉悦。但饥饿被满足的感觉非常--”
“棒极了？”Dean补充。
“棒极了。”Castiel重复道，若有所思地，“这和狼吞虎咽不同。它们--非常不一样。而这和我预料的也不一样。”他的嘴角低落下来，但笑容并没有完全消失，“一切都和我预料的不一样。但马上他再次抬眼看向Dean，试图拯救一下这个微笑，指了指他的盘子。“除了你的热情，”他说。“谢谢。”天哪，Dean所做的一切只是为他用微波炉热了个煎饼并帮他找了条不那么脏的牛仔裤，而他看着Dean的眼神就好像Dean是他的什么大恩人，好像是Dean一直在照顾他一样。Castiel成为人类还不到一周，他无家可归且饥寒交加，甚至差点被人一刀捅死，而他仍然对这一切心怀感激，为一顿午餐和一次淋浴。这真他妈让Dean心碎。
“你会弄明白这些的。”Dean尴尬地说。
“我会的。”Castiel答道。
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Dean发现自己站在货架前--不是公路旁的那种卖饮料的小商店，而是黎巴嫩的大超市，它的前面还有一个咖啡摊，整整三个过道的冷冻食品架，还有八种不同的苹果。当他还是个孩子的时候他们买过红苹果和青苹果，而现在，他们有更多选择。Dean不知道这些品种的名字有什么意义，不知道他妈的布瑞本苹果尝起来应该是什么味道，也不知道富士苹果是不是真的是进口的。很有可能不是。Dean随意拿起几个嗅了嗅，对此嗤之以鼻并把它们放了回去，然后突然地他产生了一种冲动，一种一个地拿起了那些苹果并把它们放进他的购物篮里，八个不同的苹果，红的绿的黄的。他带着它们在店里转了一圈，又拿了牛奶、排水管、清精皂和干比萨。然后他站在花生黄油的货架前看着这些所有他们为孩子们生产的稀奇古怪的破玩意儿，里面拌着紫色的果冻，把所有的榛子可可豆搅散了，并且，好吧Dean不是个饮食健康的货，但他很确定他不会巧克力酱涂在烤面包上假装那是一份早餐。这还是Sam告诉他的呢。他最后又给自己买了一个矮胖的便宜罐头，还有一份天然花生黄油给Sam和Kevin，然后--
--然后他抓起一个腰果黄油、一个杏仁罐头、一罐蜂蜜和三种果酱，挑了一个看起来最不甜的榛子酱把它一并扔进他的购物筐。他已经拿了酵母面包，但他又拿了小麦面包和英式松饼还有一些形状奇特的亚麻籽面包，然后带着几乎把他淹没了的一堆东西慢慢向收银台晃荡过去，又在半路上拐去买了冰淇淋，所有口味一种一份。他用他其中一张假卡刷了账，拎着刚刚买的这一大堆东西走向车就好像他刚刚抢劫了这家店一样--某种意义上来说他的确是的--开车回了地堡。时不时地他发现自己的目光总是转向后座，就好像确认那儿有个孩子是否安全一样，然而那里只有一袋袋的苹果和腰果黄油，而且，哇哦，Dean明显心不在焉。当他回到地堡Sam冲着这堆东西翻了个白眼。
“我们在等谁吗？”他说。
“我们有四个人，”Dean生气地说，“如果算上你的第二个胃就是五个人了。”Sam翻了翻眼睛留他一个人在那拆包那堆东西并把它们放进冰箱，于是Castiel正是在那儿找到了他。Dean转过身看到Castiel拿起了果酱，小心翼翼地把它们倒过来看瓶底的标签，全神贯注。Dean就这样看着他。
“有什么，”Dean上，“呃，有什么你喜欢的吗？”Castiel抬起头看他，然后低头看了看那些苹果，它们安静地被遗忘在袋子的角落里，果皮光滑，颗粒饱满，看起来很诱人。Castiel抬头对Dean笑了笑。
“我还不知道。”他说。
于是Dean给了他四种不同的三明治，它们是用三种不同的面包和四种不同的馅做成的，Dean把它们切成四份然后他们一起在桌边坐下品尝了它们，然后Castiel大声说出他喜欢哪个不喜欢哪个，花生黄油有多甜，恰好的油腻的口感有多棒，或者亚麻籽有多塞牙。Dean吃它们的时候可没什么想法。最后他们扫空了盘子，Dean坐在那儿用指腹把碎屑一个个拿起来吃掉。Castiel的视线紧紧跟着他的动作，然后学着他的样子用指腹把它们从指尖舔掉。Dean假装自己没在看他。他对这个很擅长。“谢谢你的午餐，”Castiel说，然后顿了顿继续道，“很美味。”
“我才刚开始吃呢。”Dean回应。
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更一发短的去碎叫咯！
tumblr，youreyesarelikestarlightnow，无授权。
天空上绽满了绚丽的焰火。一切都带着新割过的青草的芳香和令人舒适的烟火气息，蟋蟀和夏虫低语的声音和家庭欢谈的声响包围他们周身。孩子们尖叫欢笑地玩起焰火筒，挥动着闪耀着的烟火棒隔空指着他们的父母来游戏。他们其他每一个人的眼睛都望着天空，嘴角轻扬心情欢悦地欣赏着这场焰火表演。
Cas几天前听说了这次焰火晚会，并说服了所有人都前来参加，他把这视为一次“重要的人类经验”也想参加。于是现在他站在这里，手里紧紧攥着一顶连Dean都无法说服他扔掉的旧兜帽，大大地圆睁着一对蓝眼睛看着这一切，忘情地为他头顶上焰火壮丽的场面而着迷。
他看起来真美。
Dean，站在他几步之外，知道这样的想法很危险，他和Cas之间已经有太多纠葛和疑惑，他不知道这一切是如何开始的，也不知道他们会迎来怎样的结束。他们的关系总是好像在悬崖的边缘岌岌可危，在摇摇欲坠的土地和无底的深渊之间来来回回，从来没有在变得更好，或者更糟。
然而突然的一声巨响，Cas跳回一步，而Dean这次再也忍不住。他向前伸出手去试探性地拍了拍Cas的屁股，就像是给自己打气，而嘴里说出的话的声音却比蚊子的嗡嗡声大不了多少。
“你没事吧？”
Cas惊奇地眨眨眼，回头对上Dean的目光时睫毛轻颤。“是的，”他结结巴巴地说，看起来很尴尬。“刚才那个有点惊人。我没想到它会这么响。”
天空被另一片大红和赤金的星火雨焰渲染，但Dean几乎已经无法注意它们。“你确定？”他的手仍然扶着Cas，尽管现在它们可没什么理由搭在Cas腰上。
Cas点头，“就是有点冷。”他说。他的手移到Dean的手边想挥开他，但下一秒他们指尖相触的感觉让他颤栗。Dean也感受到了同样的感觉，在同一刻。
缓慢地，缓慢地，Dean给了Cas足够的时间去挥开自己的手，只要他希望；Dean缓缓地将双手伸向Cas胃的位置，直到它们相遇在Cas腰间，而Cas偎靠在他双臂间。他的心脏猛烈地在他的胸腔里擂动，他能感觉到耳朵里响起紧张又杂乱的心脏律动的声音。某处，烟火还在继续，但他们感到一切都离得那么远影影绰绰好像回声。他控制着呼吸等待，他的唇离Cas那么近，近到足以轻轻刷过他的脖颈。
Cas仍然浑身僵硬，双手僵直，而令人恐慌的几秒过去，Dean开始考虑他是否该将环在Cas腰间的手臂收回来，而他又该如何装作若无其事，就好像他从没把掏出真心，就好像他从没觉得这一刻就是他的全部。
他开始松开双手，脑子飞速旋转以想出点什么貌似可信的借口，但他停了下来，因为Cas把手搭上了他的。他突然紧张了一下，然而Cas沉下了肩膀，放松身体，靠在了Dean胸前。他抬起头，Dean觉得他能看到他脸上带着一点儿小小红晕，又或者那只是因为被焰火的光芒映照。
于是他抑制不住发自内心的欢愉微笑，即使他试图再次去看焰火，他也无法真正看到它们，因为他全身心的注意力都用来感受Cas胸口因呼吸而起落，感受他的身体有多暖，感受他嵌在自己怀里的感觉有多完美得刚刚好。
在其他某处，只是站在那儿的Sam看了一眼他们，默默地推了推Charlie，于是Charlie又用手肘轻轻顶了顶Kevin。他们三个停下手上的所有事，好奇地看着接下来的进展。
一双柔软的嘴唇印上Dean的脸颊，于是Dean红了脸，这真紧张得让人尴尬。但奇怪的是，当他将怀中的Cas转过身来回吻他时，他却并不介意了，并在Cas用手勾上他的脖子时微笑起来。某地，他很确定，一定有愤怒的父母对天高声诅咒他的名字，他仍能听到烟花绽放的声音，空气里带着青草香，Cas尝起来有冰淇淋的味道，柔和的光亮和香草的甜香都这么完美。
而此时躲在暗处偷看的人们？Kevin微笑着看着Sam失望地把一卷钞票递给傻笑着的Charlie。

The sky is ablaze with the glow of fireworks. Everything smells like fresh cut grass and a kind of homey smokiness, and there are the sounds of crickets and family chatter all around them. Children giggle as they play with sparklers, waving the bright sticks through the air to the sound of concerned parents. Everyone else’s eyes are turned skyward, lips curled up in delight as they watch the show.
Cas is the one who heard about the firework display a few days ago, and he’s the one who convinced them all to go, citing it as one of the “important human experiences” he wanted to take a part in. Now he stands with his hands stuffed inside an old hoodie Dean couldn’t convince him to throw away, blue eyes turned big and round as he watches, enthralled, the spectacle above him.
He looks beautiful.
Dean, standing a few steps away, knows these are dangerous thoughts, that things between him and Cas are so tangled up and confusing he doesn’t know where they start and how they end. It always feels like they’re balanced on the edge of a cliff, teetering back and forth between land and open air, never positive which is better, or worse.
But there’s a particularly loud bang, and Cas jumps back, and Dean can’t help himself this time. He reaches forward and his hands come to tentatively grip Cas’ hips, as if to steady him, and his words fall from his mouth in a hushed whisper.
"You okay?"
Cas is blinking in surprise, eyelashes fluttering as he turns to meet Dean’s gaze. “Yes,” he stutters out, looking embarrassed. “It was startling. I didn’t know that one would be so loud.”
There’s another shower of red and gold sparks above, but Dean barely even notices them. “You sure?” His hands are still on Cas, though they have no reason to be there anymore.
Cas nods. “Just cold,” he says. His hands move toward Dean’s to remove them, but the second they brush he freezes. Dean does too, for a moment.
Slowly, slowly, giving enough time for Cas to pull away if he wants to, Dean allows his hands to inch their way across Cas’ stomach until they meet in the middle and Cas is nestled within his arms. His heart is hammering in his chest, a nervous disjointed rhythm he can feel in his ears. Somewhere, the fireworks are still going off, but they feel too far away to be more than an echo. He waits with bated breath, his lips close enough to Cas’ neck to brush softly.
Cas is still stiffly frozen, hands stilled in shock, and for a few horrible moments Dean thinks about the awkward act of having to unwrap his arms from Cas’ waist, how he’ll somehow have to pass this off as nothing, as if he wasn’t putting his heart on the line, as if this one moment didn’t feel like an eternity to him.
He’s starting to extract his hands, mind spinning as he tries to come up with some plausible excuse, but he’s stopped when Cas’ hands fit over his. All at once the tension in Cas’ shoulders dissipates and he relaxes, leaning into Dean’s chest. His head tips forward and Dean thinks he can see a slight blush on his cheeks, or maybe it’s just the glow from the fireworks above.
And then he can’t stop grinning, even when he tries to watch the fireworks again, not really seeing them because he’s too focused on the rise and fall of Cas’ chest and how warm he is, how he somehow fits perfectly in the cavity of Dean’s chest.
Elsewhere, just standing off to the side, Sam catches sight of them and quietly nudges Charlie, who in turn gently elbows Kevin. All three of them stop what they’re doing and watch eagerly at the proceedings.
There’s a pair of lips pressed softly against Dean’s cheek and he turns a bright red, so much so that it really ought to be embarrassing. But strangely, he doesn’t seem to care much as he turns Cas around in his arms to kiss him properly, smiling when Cas’ hands wrap around his neck. Somewhere, he’s sure, there’s an indignant parent cursing his name to the high heavens, and he can still hear the fireworks going off and the air smells like clean grass and Cas tastes like the ice cream they stopped to get earlier, light and vanilla sweet and perfect.
Watching from the shadows, Kevin smiles as a wad of bills is passed from one disappointed Sam to a smirking Charlie.