Author's Note:

I decided to just say screw it and post the prompts that I have, even though I never reached my goal of fifty, for the sake of my sanity. The good news is that some of them are kind of long.

Shout out to MysticMoonhigh on AO3, the author of that fantastic fic Destibagel! Hope you don't mind that I featured it in my last prompt, because it never fails to make me laugh until I'm breathless and my stomach hurts like hell.

#26 - Marathon

It was a travesty, that's what it was. Cas had never seen any of the Marvel movies, and Dean was determined to infect him with the disease - which could only be done through marathoning.

"Dean." Cas shook his shoulder, and Dean realized for the first time that he was practically cuddling the angel in his half-there state.

"Sorry..." Dean shook it off and tried not to think of it as rejection when he migrated to the other couch cushion.

But Cas glared and reached for him, hand firmly yanking at Dean's arm until they were back to how they'd started.

"You're warm," Cas justified, "now stop trying to get away from me."

#27 - Photograph

Cas wasn't entirely sure why he'd kept it so long, or how it had stayed in one piece, for that matter, but the damned thing was always on his person, weighing heavy as a rock in his pocket. It was a reminder of sorts; of Jo and Bobby and Ellen, of Sam and Dean. Dean had been less on-edge, more willing to show that he cared - and Sam hadn't looked quite so exhausted or ready to abandon the world. The Winchesters didn't smile like that anymore, but then, Castiel supposed, neither did he.

#28 - Ancient

Sometimes Dean forgets just how ancient Cas is, that the guy has lived millennium before him, so he gets a kick out of how easily he can confuse Cas just by referencing random crap from this or that century.

"Be the Bert to my Ernie, the MJ to my Spiderman, the Heaven to my Hell-"

"Dean, I think I understand this time."

"Seriously? The one time I was hoping you wouldn't get it? Fuck me."

"Yes, I believe that was exactly what you were asking of me, Dean."

#29 - Tragedy

"For which f are you drinking to this time? Fuck, forget, or fun?"

Dean glanced sideways at Crowley, trying to decide if the bastard even deserved an answer. The demon waited with something like a smile on his face, unsettling and too interested, as Dean let another shot burn down his throat. What the hell, he finally decided.

"I'm thinking it's more a C than an F, tonight." Dean quickly looked down into his cup of poison while Crowley's eyebrows did a little dance up towards his hairline.

"Your relationship with that heaven-frolicker never ceases to..." Crowley gestured vaguely, "intrigue me, I suppose."

Dean huffed. "I'd say confuse - but that's just me."

"I'll never understand why you don't just plant one on the daft angel - ah, but can he even be considered an angel anymore? Either way, this grows so tiresome. I mean, just make it canon already." He shook his head and wrinkled his nose like he'd smelled something foul. "This is turning into a goddamned tragedy - Dean Winchester, looking at dear Castiel like he's a star that fell to earth just for him, which really isn't too far off when you ponder on that analogy-"

Dean really didn't want to hear it right now. "Crowley-"

"And then there's the other half of our dense duo," Crowley continued loudly, "the rebellious, gorgeous, clueless Castiel who barely even knows what love is, but oh, is he in deep - and with that same man, no less! My oh my, does he have a habit of looking at Dean Winchester like the bleeding sun shines out of his ass-"

"I get it already: we're both emotionally constipated!"

"Now, Dean, that's ridiculous. I accused you of no such thing, however true it may be. And kindly stop reaching for that pesky little blade of yours, I'm not in the mood to be stabbed." Crowley stuffed his hands into the pockets of his expensive (most likely stolen) suit and pivoted on his heel; he always was one for grand exits. Dean wanted nothing more than to jump up from his seat and strangle the King of Hell as said ruler pushed open the doors and called over his shoulder, "I merely suggested that, perhaps, the great twist in your tragedy is that you both think the other is staring so fondly at the ground. Look up, Dean Winchester, and stop kidding yourself."

Dean knew he probably shouldn't retaliate, but he couldn't resist. "What - are you a poet now? Well, thanks for the extra dose of confusion, you flashy bastard!"

But Crowley couldn't hear him anymore, and it really left Dean wishing he didn't believe a word of what had just been said.

#30 - Rumor

"That's it, I've had enough of the eye-sex." Sam slammed his book shut. He would honestly scream if he was stuck in the same room with these two idiots any longer. And no way was he sticking around for Cas' typical confusion over the term 'eye-sex'. "Dean would love explain it to you, Cas."

Dean gave his brother a why-the-hell-would-you-do-that look, but Sam only smiled and zipped out the bunker's door.

"Dean?" Cas was still looking at him with that totally not adorable head-tilt and the bluest eyes to ever blue.

Later, Dean swore. Later, he was going to kill his moose of a brother for opening his big mouth. He was going to drag Sam outside and run him over with the Impala and it would be lovely. And- okay, when did Cas even get that close to him? A foot. That was all that separated them: one fucking foot.

"Uh..." Dean said intelligently. He could've smacked himself, feigning nonchalance as he stared down his nose at Cas. "What?"

"Sam said you would explain the intercourse between..." he frowned, "our eyes?"

Dean actually laughed a little, just a puff of air, but it was genuine.

"Why are you laughing, Dean?"

"It's funny, Cas, because rumor has it we're in love." A smirk much more confident than he felt curled his lips. "Only 'cause we stare at each other so much, I mean - which is pretty friggin' hilarious, ain't it?"

There was silence and Dean found that his eyes strayed from Cas', shifting ever so slightly down towards his lips. They shot back up and he somehow wound up running imaginary fingers through that fluff of dark hair. Dean went through the same process again, and several more times without even realizing he was doing it, but then- oh. Oh, this was not normal-friend behavior. It all made sense now. Dean cursed under his breath; he was pretty sure that everyone and their mother had figured out all this crap before him. Sammy, you little bitch, you knew about me all along, didn't you? God, I'm an idiot.

Cas squinted at him, his expression closer to irritation than Dean thought was warranted in this situation. "Okay," he said slowly, "but what's funny about people thinking that?"

The hunter wondered how he could pass this off as nothing when Cas had always been able to see right through him. "Come on, Cas. The whole thing itself is a joke-"

"Is it?"

Dean hesitated, taken aback by Cas' glare and snappish tone, "Well-"

"Because I love you."

It took Dean what felt like five minutes to recover from that one. His eyelashes batted dumbly as he stood there, his whole face feeling like it was on fire. Cas, the angel-turned-human, who apparently loved him, simply kept staring.

"C-Cas, you do know I meant in fucking love, right? As in the gooey, mushy, hand-holding, kiss-me-dead kind of love?"

Cas blinked. "Yes," he mumbled, "you're by far my favorite human."

Dean blinked back. "Well, fuck, I think I might lo- like you very strongly... too."

Why, Dean wondered, did he have to be so outrageously awkward when it actually counted? Could someone spare him the trouble and shoot him in the face, like, right now?

"Oh," was the only thing Cas said.

Screw it, Dean thought, it's as good a time as any. "So... wanna make out?"

"I was beginning to think you'd never ask." Cas reached up and fisted his hands in Dean's hair, pulling him down. Dean froze in delighted shock at Cas' enthusiasm for all of one second before clasping his hands at the back of Cas' neck and kissing him back with equal fervor.

Sam peeked in through the doorway and smirked to himself, It's about damn time...

#31 - Wish

Dean doesn't like to admit that this has become habit, but he thinks he might have to, when the clock reads 11:10 the next time he checks and he's subconsciously easing up on the gas. He looks over at Sam, sleeping like a rock in the passenger seat, and tightens his grip on the steering wheel as he pulls over - just one minute, that's all he needs. Dean lets his head fall forward onto white-knuckled fingers, closing his eyes as the zero turns into a one.

It's 11:11, and he spends another wish on Castiel.

"Come home already, Cas. If you're listening, just come home."

The only thing he's expecting in return is silence, as he's learned to from the beginning. It shakes Dean to his very core when a quiet whoosh sounds through the darkness, when a very real hand comes to rest on his shoulder, when a voice like gravel floods his ears.

"Hello, Dean. I realize this is long overdue, but I'm home."

#32 - Excuses

Castiel could probably come up with a thousand excuses for everything he's done, even though he knew that it all boiled down to a single reason at the center - underneath all the denial, past a brief wish for a more noble explanation than Dean Winchester. Because that really was his ultimate excuse: Dean fucking Winchester. And it had always been good enough for Castiel.

#33 - Online

"Bagel Castiel moaned as Bagel Dean licked-"

"Stop! Jesus Christ, stop," Human Dean shouted. "How did we get here, Sam? With you following me around the bunker reading - shit, I don't know - bagel porn about me and Cas? It's a whole new level of what-the-fuck, even for us!"

"So? I don't care. I ship it, even when you two are reduced to bagels." Sam snickered, eyes glued to the phone he carried. "Dude, I'm sorry, but this is gold. You can't expect me to - oh my god, there's an 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!' pun in here."

Dean groaned. "Why me?"