Destiel?

Castiel discovers Destiel fanfiction and believes the writers are correct. Now he must convince Dean. | Meta | 12K words |

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1. Chapter one

 

Chapter one

 

"Dude!" Sam exclaimed from his computer. "Dude! Check this out!" Sam was grinning like an idiot, full of glee, and gesturing wildly for Dean to come look at something he'd found on the internet. Dean got his hopes up, thinking it had to be something to help them figure out the stupid apocalypse thing to have Sam quite so excited.

Dean went over to Sam, looked over his shoulder at the computer, and then instantly pulled back, cringing at the website Sam had open.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing on those Supernatural fan sites?"

"Look, I had this idea. Chuck's been putting out more books online, covering the apocalypse storyline, and he's almost completely caught up with us."

"Get to the point, Sammy."

"The point is, on the fan sites, there are forums where all the fans discuss their predictions about the next books. I thought they might have some good ideas that we would never think of. You know, since they're outside of it and not ridden by the pressure of having to save the world."

"Okay. So, did you find anything good?"

"Well, no. Not yet. Most of them are still writing nasty Sam/Dean fanfictions and think that'll save the world somehow. But I did find something way, way more entertaining," Sam grinned impishly, clicked on a link and turned the computer back to Dean for him to have a look.

"'Raised from Perdition: A Destiel Fan Site.' Who's Destiel? Some other dick angel we get to wrestle with?"

"Scroll down further," Sam said, barely able to contain his laughter.

Dean rolled his eyes and did as told, scrolling further down the front page to see a drawing of two men tangled in white sheets on a bed, eyes shut in what was clearly post-coital ecstasy. He was about to snap at Sam about being gay, when something struck him about the man on top. He had an anti-possession tattoo on his chest, a golden pendent around his neck, a silver ring on his right hand, and most damning of all, a burning red hand print scarred onto his shoulder. The other man had pearly white wings and a very familiar crop of brown bed-head hair.

"Destiel? Destiel? Dean and Castiel? What the hell is wrong with these people?"

Sam had fallen out of his chair from laughing so hard as Dean's realization slowly dawned on him and then the horror awoke in his eyes shortly afterwards. "At least," he gasped between breaths as he tried to stop laughing. "At least it isn't incest anymore."

"Oh, like that wasn't taboo enough? Now they want me screwing an angel of the Lord? Those girls are going to Hell."

"Hey, I can't blame them. You two really do have some serious 'UST'."

"What the hell is 'UST'? No. I don't want to know... Just tell me."

"'Unresolved sexual tension'."

"Dude, that's gross!"

"I read an essay about it this morning. Very convincing. Eye sex, personal space, your profound bond. Are you sure you two haven't already consummated your love without telling me? You don't have to be afraid, Dean. I'll accept you for who you are."

"Blow me, Sam."

"I think I'll leave that to Cas."

Out of words to continue that battle with his all too gleeful younger brother, Dean had nothing else to resort to, and turned on him, wrestling him to the ground and punching him, just to get him to shut up and stop giggling. The two wrangled on the floor for a good long time, leaving each other bruised and panting before Dean was satisfied that Sam had learned his lesson.

Unseen, hovering just around the ceiling of the room was Castiel, who had been witness to the entire scene, starting with when Sam had called Dean over to look at his computer.

Castiel did not know a lot about computers, though he was impressed by the invention itself, created and improved constantly by humans over the last few decades. Having no celestial power, it was an amazing tool for humans to access the knowledge of the world.

The night of incident between Dean and Sam, after the two of them had fallen asleep, Castiel appeared in their room and slid Sam's laptop out of the leather satchel. Castiel was grateful for his fascination with the machine, as it had led to him watching Sam carefully as he used the tool. He had no trouble opening it to reveal the screen and keyboard, nor any trouble waking the machine up. He was even familiar with the little pictures on the bottom of the screen, and which one to click on to get him to the internet. But when it got to a simple white website that merely said the nonsense word "Google", he wasn't sure what to do next.

He stared at the website, his eyes focusing on the tiny vertical line blinking in a small white box. He looked at the keyboard, with its little printed capital letters that would allow him to make words. Unsure what the result would be, he started pecking a few keys very slowly, making sure he had the order right. When he looked back up at the screen, he was delighted to see that the word "destiel" had appeared in the little white box.

Castiel waited, but nothing happened. His eyes scanned the website again and found below the white box, another box that said "search". That seemed like a good idea, so Castiel clicked on that button, waited half a second, and then his eyes went wide as the website burst forth with a long list of links with his and Dean's name on them. And there were some pictures, too.

Eyes glued to the screen, Castiel sat before Sam's computer for hours, the only sound being the quiet tap of his finger against the touchpad.

The next morning, when Sam and Dean woke up, Sam was annoyed that the battery on his computer was completely drained, and accused Dean of searching for porn all night, despite his genuine denials. Sam didn't believe him and plugged the computer in to charge while he went to brush his teeth and shower.

As soon as Sam stepped into the bathroom, Castiel appeared standing right in front of Dean. Dean took a step back and glared at Castiel for invading his personal space, and then told him a gruff 'good morning', his voice still rough with sleep. Sam gave him a toothpaste-filled 'hey' as well.

"Dean, we need to talk," Castiel said, his voice sounding even more serious than usual.

"Sure, go ahead," Dean said, pulling off the t-shirt he'd slept in, and smelling the others in his duffel bag to find one that was relatively clean.

"Last night... I used the internet to read 'Destiel fanfiction'."

Dean froze, his hand clamped around a t-shirt that had passed the sniff test. He looked up at Castiel, words caught in his throat as the horror of his discovery the day before came back to life, now worse than before.

"I think those authors might be correct," Castiel continued when Dean still hadn't said anything.

"SAM!" Dean suddenly bellowed, turning around to the open bathroom door where Sam had paused in brushing his teeth, also frozen by Castiel's words. But when he heard Dean's yell he very quickly closed the door, locked it, and then turned on the shower.

"Sorry! Can't hear you! Shower's running!" Sam called out through the door.

"Son of a bitch..." Dean murmured to himself, knowing he was going to make Sam pay for this whole damn disaster that was about to strike their motel room. Slowly, he turned back to Castiel, who was looking at him with an expectant look in his eyes.

"Okay," Dean said, rubbing his face hard. "Let's get one thing straight. Those authors? They are crazy, sex-deprived, delusional virgins with way too much free time."

"But they-"

"Let me finish. These are the same people who think me and Sam are going at it like wild dingoes, despite the fact that we. Are. Brothers."

"Yes, but-"

"Not done yet. So these authors, having nothing but Chuck's terrible hack writing to go on, and having never met you or me in their entire lives, are trying to say that I am secretly in love with an angel of the Lord and want to bang his brains out without realizing it? You really think this might be correct?"

"Of course not. Their blatant disregard for your past history of hetero-normative sexual practices with multiple women is baffling."

"See? Now let's just forget about this whole 'Destiel' garbage and move on with our lives."

"But I was referring to myself when I said they were correct."

"Huh?" Dean said.

"Many of the authors predict that our profound bond may be my way of expressing romantic love, an emotion I have never experienced before. It explains my desire to be closer to you than I am with Sam, my inability to resist when you pray to me, even though Sam is much more polite, the intense fascination I have that results in staring at you, and the happiness I feel when you are close to me. It seems that through Chuck's inept writing, these authors have discovered the meaning behind my actions that even I was unaware of."

"Cas. Really, I don't think you should be listening to some crazy girls-"

"Shut up, Dean. I am not finished speaking."

Dean shut up, swallowing hard at Castiel's stern voice.

"I am in love with you, Dean Winchester. I want to spend time with you. I want to talk with you. I want to be close to you. I want to touch you."

"Cas..."

"I am still not finished. I understand from the fanfiction that you will be reluctant to respond to my romantic advances, so I will give you time to think about what I've said. I will not bother you until then."

Castiel left as soon as he said those words, disappearing in the blink of an eye with the faint sound of fluttering wings seeing him off. Dean was frozen in place for a moment, and then he dashed over to the bathroom door, banging on it fiercely.

"Sam! I am going to kill you! I am going to kill you so much!"

"Shower's still running! Lala! Can't hear you! Be out in a few hours..." Sam sang back through the door.

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