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waffathon

WAFF-a-thon 2012 - Main Thread!

And if we all could spread a little sunshine
All could lend a helping hand
We all would be a little closer
To the Promised Land

WAFFathon 2012 Official Thread

Welcome, everyone, to the fourth official WAFFathon, making the Internet a little happier. The premise behind the WAFFathon is simple: Fandom is great, but let's face it, it can get pretty dark around here at times. Not to mention that it rains absolute CRAP on the characters we most love. So to make their not-quite-canon lives a little better, and to increase the per-capita volume of Warm and Fuzzy Feelings (WAFF for short) on these here intertubes, the WAFFathon has arrived!

This year I'm upping the ante by putting my money where my WAFF is... see more behind the cut!

How to Play:

1) Comment with a fandom, a pairing, and a prompt. Your prompt can be specific, general, vague, cryptic, silly, goofy, OOC, AU, sexy, anything you like, so long as it brings a little sunshine in the end.

2) Find a prompt you like and make something fluffy and feel-goody out of it. Fanfic, fanart, manips, icons, vids, fanmixes, motis and macros, and anything else creative are all welcome. Adult content is also welcome, but remember that the goal is to be WAFFy!

3) Post it (or a link to it) in the comments.

4) Watch people's lives light up!

The Rules:

1) Provide lots of encouragement to the creators. Feedback. Compliment. Hug. Friend. Mem. It's good karma.

2) This meme will be very lightly policed, but policed it will be. So behave. No trashing of others, fandoms, ships, chars, stories, or the meme writ large will be tolerated. Friendly concrit or suggestions are fine, but keep in mind that we are trying to make people happy, not insecure. As your Moddess Goddess(TM), I reserve the right to do what I feel I need to do. Which I hope will be nothing, but which you are hereby forewarned can change depending on my very mercurial mood. So... like I said. Behave.

3) I have no end date in sight for this meme, but I suggest keeping it a weeklong activity.

4) You are more than welcome to crosspost your creative works wherever you like. It should go without saying that taking someone else's work and passing it off as your own elsewhere is unacceptable by any definition. I refer folks to

stop_plagiarism as a good place to follow up on any problems that might occur.

Make the world even happier!

A couple of extra things you can do if you want to make everyone happier:

1) Readers/viewers: If you find an author/creative person you like, go back through their other works and comment on them, or rec their works on your journal. Creative people love feedback and it's especially gratifying when you get feedback on something you thought was lost to time and when someone likes your work enough to recommend it to his or her friends.

2) Creators: be sure to thank readers for their time and energy spent on your work. Friend them if they've friended you or recced you. One of the great things about fan-creative communities is the proximity you can have to the people you admire and respect. We don't get to have conversations with Joss and Kripke and the rest, but we can talk to each other and that's even cooler.

3) Pimp this meme to any friends or communities you think would be interested. You can find banners and code at the Banner Thread. Hotlink your little hearts out!

4) If you're feeling really encouraged, please consider making the world a better place on behalf of the fandom community.

CLICK!

DONATE!
ASPCA * Random Acts * International Committee of the Red Cross * America's Second Harvest * Humane Society International * UNICEF * American Cancer Society * Oxfam * Amnesty International

THIS YEAR I WILL BE DONATING $1 FOR EVERY COMMENT THE WAFF-A-THON RECEIVES, BE IT A PROMPT, A FILL, OR FEEDBACK, UP TO A $500 MAXIMUM!

I will split the money evenly among Random Acts, the ASPCA, and the Red Cross. Make me too poor to attend DragonCon this year :) (Please note that your comment has to be a genuinely happifying comment in order to count toward the total!)

(I know we're all poor in fandom, but we're actually very rich!)

5) Tell someone you love today how much you care for and appreciate them, and remember: Happiness is a completely renewable energy source!

THANKS TO...

...

perdiccas and

oxoniensis for hosting similar memes in the past that I've participated in. You guys set up the model for me to build on.

...

triedunture,

hils,

wickedvirtue,

sinnerforhire,

ibonekoen,

kijikun,

peppervl,

peroxidepest17,

takadainmate,

heard_the_owl,

darth_firefly,

melalucci,

mithrel,

jaune_chat,

noshinori,

bballgirl3022,

gwendolynd,

wolfrider89,

ratherastory,

princess_aleera,

nicole_sill, and

aerilex for cheering for the idea and volunteering to leave prompts, fill prompts, and/or pimp.

...YOU! for reading and writing!

Happy happifying!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Haha, thank you :-D
It was made because I wouldn't stop bugging the artist about it :-D

Hee! *all the hugs*

awwwwwwwwww, that is adorable!
I really love Cas' expression <3

Awwwwwww so sweet!!! ^^ ♥ ♥ ♥ They look so happy and relaxed, especially Dean. I kinda want to snuggle with them LOLOL ♥
Ahh your art... I'm such a sucker for them *swoons*

Sam called from the lobby. "Monopoly, Risk, Trouble, or card games. Which do you want?"

"Monopoly sucks," Dean said as he pulled his boots off. "Trouble's for kids, and I don't think I wanna play poker against the king of the poker face. Risk it is."

By the time Sam got back, cardboard box in his arms, Dean had sweats and a henley on and had persuaded Castiel to take off his trenchcoat and suit jacket. If they were gonna be snowed in, Dean would ensure they did it right. They even had microwave popcorn, which Sam nuked while Dean explained the basics.

"Here, you're blue," Dean said, handing Cas the plastic box of pieces. "We start by taking turns putting down armies till the whole world's taken. You get bonuses for owning a whole continent..."

*

Cas surveyed the dice and said, "I believe this means I own Australia, correct?"

*

"You're getting a little overextended there, Cas," Sam said.

Cas shook the dice in a cage of his long fingers and said placidly, "You're mistaken."

*

Dean met his brother's eyes, wondering how neither of them had seen that pincer movement coming till it was too late.

*

Grimly, Dean said, "Either we gang up on him or neither of us is makin' it out of here, Sammy." Sam didn't even protest the name, just nodded.

*

"Are you angeling the dice?" Dean demanded. Sam's tiny remaining enclave of red was too far away for support, and while Dean's green pieces at least had their backs to an ocean he felt awfully exposed.

"I don't cheat, Dean," Cas said seriously. He looked so much thinner out of his layers. "I can't help it if the random elements have fallen out in my favor."

Dean sighed.

*

"OK," Dean said. "Congratulations, you rule the world."

Cas cocked his head, studying the board. "You still have four countries."

"They surrender," Dean said. Cas looked up and met his eyes, and said, "I think that's wise of them."

On the other bed, Sam choked on the last of the popcorn.

"Sam, you OK?"

"Yeah," Sam gasped around coughs. "I'm great."

Dean studied his brother for a second. "Then what's up?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "You'll get it eventually, dude." Which wasn't an answer, but Dean didn't feel like prying out Sam's weird logic right now.

"Shall we play another game?" Cas asked, and Dean thought there was a bit of eagerness in his tone. He made a questioning face at Sam, who shrugged and sat up.

"This time we gang up on him from the beginning," Sam said, and Dean grinned.

Oh guys. He has how many millenia of battle experience under his belt? And you're both surprised:) This is exactly what I was hoping for, thank you!

Next they'll try decreasing how many armies he gets. :)

It had been Gabriel's idea, but Dean hadn't exactly taken much convincing. Sam had been won over when Gabe had ruffled his hair and shouted, "Come on, Sammy! I just stood up to the Devil and I'm still alive. That calls for a celebration." And Castiel had gone along for the ride, not one to argue with both Winchesters and his own big brother.

That's how they ended up at a motel with a truly obscene amount of liquor, all of them doing their best to get smashed. Dean was a little fuzzy on some of the details of the night. Like where Sam's shirt had gone (Dean was pretty sure that was Gabriel's doing), why Cas was wearing his tie as a headband (Dean may have been responsible for that), and how Dean's pants had been replaced with assless chaps (Gabe again, although where the chaps had come from Dean couldn't say).

Dean was rummaging through one of their many, many paper bags full of alcohol when he came up with a large bottle of tequila. "Yes!" he shouted, probably a bit too loud, "Shots!"

Sam grinned. "We have rock salt!"

"Do we have limes?" said Dean.

Cas was sprawled face-down on the couch, but he lifted his face to ask, "What is the significance of the limes?"

Dean explained how to take a tequila shot while Sam checked the room's mini-fridge. "No limes," Sam confirmed.

Gabriel spread his hands dramatically, looking offended. "Have you forgotten that you're partying with an archangel?" he said, and then they had limes.

Sam was pouring salt onto the back of his hand, demonstrating for Cas, when Dean suddenly got an idea. He took a slice of lime and held it between his teeth, the cut surface facing out. "Hey Sammy," he said around the lime, waggling his eyebrows.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he didn't disappoint. They had done this sort of thing a few times before, usually to show off for girls. Dean was too drunk to remember that there was no one here to impress besides a couple of angels. Sam licked the salt off the back of his hand, took his shot, and leaned in to take the lime from Dean. They both pulled their lips back at the moment of contact, because it wasn't gay if their lips didn't touch.

As Sam settled back into his seat, sucking the lime provocatively, Gabriel said, "I have never met a pair of brothers gayer for each other than you two. And that's saying something. I grew up with Michael and Lucifer."

"Shut it, wings," Dean snapped, "It's your turn. Drink."

The look on Gabriel's face was terrifyingly smug. "If we're doing body shots," he declared, "I know whose body I want." His eyes were threatening to burn a hole through Sam's chest.

It proved just how drunk Sam must have been when he responded by sighing, "Fine," and lying down on the bed. Gabriel sprinkled a line of salt on Sam's abdomen and balanced a shot of tequila between his pecs while Dean cut another wedge of lime and popped it into Sam's mouth.

"Just lie back and think of England," Dean advised, snickering quietly.

Sam took the lime out of his mouth just long enough to say, "Fuck you." He stayed motionless when Gabriel dragged his tongue along the line of salt, and even when Gabe added a little kiss at the end. Gabe grabbed the shot glass with his teeth and tossed it back with no hands. But when Gabe went in for the lime, Sam's eyes fluttered closed.

Instead of taking the lime, Gabriel kissed Sam full on the mouth. Sam sat up quickly, knocking heads with Gabriel as he sputtered indignantly, "What the Hell, man?"

Gabe's only response was to grin cheekily, the rind of the lime covering his teeth. Dean couldn't stop laughing.

Edited 2012-03-18 18:35 (UTC)

Castiel had been watching the whole affair intensely.

"C'mere Cas," said Dean, suddenly bold, "Take Sam's place."

Cas tried to cock his head curiously like he usually did, but he was drunk enough that his head just kept tipping until it hit his shoulder. "Why?" he said.

"Do I really need to explain it to you?" said Dean, "Just get over here."

Sam rolled off the bed, shoving Gabriel away as he went. Cas laid himself down in the empty space. "Now hold still," said Dean as he straddled Cas and began to unbutton his shirt. Cas was staring up at him, wide-eyed and trusting, and suddenly Dean was very glad for all the booze he had drunk that night and the way it seemed to be impairing certain functions.

Dean got the salt and tequila ready, and he couldn't stop himself from brushing his thumb against Cas's lower lip as he placed the lime. A glance to the right confirmed that Sam and Gabriel were watching everything and looking like they were about to break out the popcorn. Dean resisted the urge to order them both to face the wall.

The salt was grainy and sharp-tasting against Dean's tongue, but under it he could feel smooth skin. He wished his mouth weren't full of salt so he could tell what Cas tasted like. But then Cas arched up against Dean's mouth, and the shot tipped over to splash on his chest and neck.

"Aww, man!" said Dean when he saw that he had lost the booze that he was relying on to get the salt taste out of his mouth, "I told you to hold still."

"Sorry," mumbled Cas through the lime. His skin glistened with tequila. And suddenly, Dean didn't care that Sam and Gabe were watching. He leaned forward to lick some of the sheen off Cas's chest, tasting tequila and sweat and sucking up the little puddle that had formed in the hollow of Cas's neck.

Cas actually moaned this time, and his hands floated up to grab at Dean's hips. By the time Dean moved to kiss Cas, he had completely forgotten about the lime. It was a pleasant surprise when the sour juice exploded in both of their mouths and ran down the side of Cas's face. Dean broke the kiss, spat out what remained of the lime, and dove right back in. Okay, so his dick didn't work after drinking half a liquor store, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to kiss all the virginity off of Cas's face.

Dean barely noticed when Gabriel led Sam out of the room, saying, "I'm getting the impression that our brothers would like a little privacy. Let's get our own room."

"Good idea," said Sam, "But you keep your hands to yourself."

"What do you take me for?" said Gabe in a hurt voice.

"Whatever," Sam laughed as he closed the door and left Dean and Cas to their make-outs, "Like you didn't plan this whole thing."

Um, I just like your icon. Misha==hot

Thank you :D Likewise! Dean's exposed throat, yum!

I got it from here (http://drtytrenchicons.livejournal.com/). She has many nifty icons.

ASDFGHDSGJHJGFGD

ASSLESS CHAPS

/ded

OKay, but in all honesty. This is so hot. I'm literally weeping over the fact that it isn't more, although I'm beyond ecstatic I got this awesome, AWESOME fill.

Apart from the Wincesty undertones (thank you so much, not that many authors dare to put it in when it's a Dean/Cas etc. story), Sam's spluttering when Gabriel kissed him, and Dean and Cas's sweet kiss, I love your eye for detail. There's these little things here that makes it absolutely hilarious. Like the assless chaps. (ASSLESS CHAAAAPS) Or the 'if the lips don't touch, it's not gay' comment, because that's so fucking Dean to think. And for some reason, Cas sprawled face-down just made me laugh out loud.

Thank you SO MUCH, sweetie. *flails*

I'm glad you liked it! I had ridiculous fun writing it, so thanks for the great prompt. <3

[Not all the way to Team Free Love yet - still S/G, C/D - but give them time and I'm sure they'll get there!]

It was Gabriel (of course it was) who decided after two months that they needed a holiday.
He said that every post-Apocalyptic disaster clean-up volunteer who also hunted weird supernatural shit in their spare time needed angel-prescribed time off every six weeks like clockwork, for his own sanity. Dean not-so-secretly interpreted this as "Gabriel gets laid more often if Sam isn't bitching about what the latest crappy motel mattress did to his back".
Dean wasn't complaining, though, because Gabriel had managed to perform a miracle: Castiel had agreed, eventually, to join them every evening at six, and not to leave again until ten in the morning.
Dean was going to get whole nights with him.
---
On the first night, Sam was still in Wisconsin, tidying up a few loose ends after their last case (freaked-out witnesses weren't really Dean's thing). Dean and Gabriel kicked back on the patio of the villa with a beer each, and spent all afternoon planning what a wild time they'd have on the town that night without Sam there to make his Pouty Face of Epic Disappointment and Woe at them, until they (okay, Dean) dozed off in the late afternoon sun.
Crap, he was getting old. And he'd barely started on the good stuff.
He woke when Castiel turned up, looking kind of tense. Through half-opened eyes, Dean watched him step out onto the patio to join them, all the long elegant lines and economical movements of him, the determined eyebrows of doom and the soft fond corner of his mouth. Castiel leaned down by the first chair to kiss Gabriel (who tipped his head back for it and made a pleased noise); knelt down by the second to kiss Dean. Dean took shameless advantage of semi-consciousness to knot lazy fingers into his shirt, turn his face into the cool angle of his throat, and breathe him in.
They didn't go out on the town that night.
Gabriel flitted off, eventually, to hang around Sam and be adoringly unhelpful at him. Dean took Castiel to check out the awesome mattresses, relishing the knowledge that when he woke up they'd all be there. His angel, his brother, his brother's angel / angel's brother, all of them under one roof and morning-lazy.

On the second night, Dean and Gabriel and Sam were sprawling around playing truth or dare when six o'clock struck, because Sam was a giant girl. (Though Dean was ready to admit that playing it with Gabriel was... something else.) When Castiel came in, he took a moment to stand and look around at them, eyebrows slightly less doom-laden than usual, like he thought he could get used to this. Dean waved his beer at him happily, and Castiel did that fond little half-twitch of his mouth he did when he thought Dean was being particularly relaxed and human.
Then he picked his way across the patio, by the same path as last night. Stooped by the first chair to kiss Gabriel; stooped by the second to kiss Sam; knelt down by the third to kiss Dean.
... Wait, what?
Dean blinked at Castiel.
Castiel blinked at Dean.
Dean blinked at Sam.
Sam boggled at the back of Castiel's head.
Dean blinked at Gabriel.
Gabriel snickered into his cup.
Dean flipped Gabriel off on general principles.
"... Cas?" he asked carefully. Because, you know, maybe this was one of those things you weren't meant to mention.
"Dean," Castiel returned, all obliging and patient and dammit he was kneeling beside Dean's chair with his hand on Dean's knee, he knew Dean always got distracted when he did that.
"... Dude. Did you just kiss Sam?"
"He did," Sam put in helpfully, sort of blankly.
Yeah, thanks Sam. That cleared things right up.
"Yes," Castiel said simply.
Great, now he was wearing his Be Patient And Literal With The Confused Humans face. The one that meant Dean was going to have to work for it.
Okay. Winchester fallback tactic number one: make a joke out of it.
"So, anything you guys want to tell me?"
"Ew. No, Dean!" Cue wounded-gazelle face from Sam. "I mean. Er. Not that I wouldn't – I mean, not that there's anything wrong with Cas – er, sorry Cas. I mean, now ew ew, just – ew."
"Stop before you hurt yourself, honeybuns," Gabriel suggested solicitously.
Castiel was giving Dean his Grave Yet Disappointed In You look. Damn. Dean hated that one.
"Dude. Dudes don't kiss dudes."
Grave Yet Disappointed acquired a side-order of I Invite You To Think About What You Just Said, with extra narrowed eyes.
"... Except, obviously – well. And you and Gabriel because you've got that weird angel-brother thing going on. But not friends."
"A kiss is a token of affection, companionship, kinship, not only of lust," Castiel pronounced carefully. "Sam is dear to me, as are you and Gabriel. To greet him only with words, and you two with a touch, would be an unnatural distinction."
Because, yeah, Castiel had explained that a kiss was, for angels, like the closest thing they could do to some trusting grace-touch thing. Which, fine, though Dean suspected Gabriel of playing it up far more than he had to some days. But if he was still confused about what it looked like to humans...
"It's... weird," Dean clarified gently. "To humans."
Only then Castiel's patient expression went suddenly hard and a little bit tired. "And what am I, Dean? Angel or human?"
"... Whoops," Gabriel said quietly, and his eyes sparkled with something dark and warning.
... Dammit.
That question. That same freaking question. The one that had kept jumping out on them like some kind of grinning jack-in-the-box the first few weeks. ("Is it the all-powerful angel you want, Dean? or the human you think you will make of me?") Dean had thought they'd salted and burned the son of a bitch.
Sam's forehead crumpled up.

Edited 2012-03-19 02:59 (UTC)

"Cas, hey. No. Not what I meant, okay?" Dean reached out and touched the stiff, stubbled line of his jaw. Because, Dean was learning more every day that he was really crap at this whole relationship thing, in lots of ways, but especially at words. The only way he could say things that he really meant was with his body; but that was a language that Castiel was still learning.

Castiel didn't pull away, but he didn't move into it either. "How is that not what you meant?"

Dean threw a pleading look at Gabriel, and something the archangel saw there made his face slide in a moment from Dig Your Way Out Of Your Own Hole Winchester to resigned and only slightly mocking. "You are, sparrow. Sam's not. On the mouth's kind of weird for him, yeah? Not exactly going to work with the whole casual manly backslaps thing you guys have got going on."

Castiel's throat jumped under Dean's fingertips, and the dark shutter of his lashes fell into place over his eyes. "I understand. I apologise, Sam."

"Um. I don't mind...?" Sam ventured, awkward and unconvincing.

Castiel went and got his own chair.

Dammit. Dean hated not-arguments. They always ended up with Castiel looking resigned and small in a way that Dean couldn't fix with abject grovelling. And he couldn't exactly kiss him out of it now, either. Because Gabriel and Sam might not care about having an audience (okay, or Castiel really), but Dean wasn't quite that far gone.

"... Chocolate, anyone?" Gabriel offered, kind of lamely.

Sam had his thinky-face frown on.

---

On the third night, Sam went out to get a couple more beers just before Castiel turned up.

Castiel stooped at the first chair to kiss Gabriel; gave the second chair a frown so puzzled and faint that Dean almost thought he'd imagined it; then stopped at the third to kiss Dean.

When Sam came back, he leaned over the first chair to make out with Gabriel for a minute (because it had been two minutes since they'd seen each other, jesus); then, coming over to hand Dean his beer, stooped to drop a kiss on top of Castiel's head.

... The sneaky son of a bitch.

Castiel blinked at him.

Sam grinned back, bright and smug. "Hi, you."

Castiel's eyes softened into his kick-ass little smile that meant everything.

"Hello, Sam."

Gabriel was trying not to beam too much behind his cup.

Dean was so onto him.

Edited 2012-03-19 07:05 (UTC)

It's not worth trying to connect with the average student, Dean keeps hearing. He's told how eventually they all run together, how each semester becomes virtually identical to the ones that come before and after it. That everything becomes a never-ending stream of Brittany Soandso and Mike Whatsisface, a constant rehashing of the same uninspired presentations and plagiarized papers. (Dean hopes he's not that disenchanted by the time he gets tenure, jesus.)

From where he's hiding in the exit hallway of the commencement center, he can see at least twenty students he can name. Hell, he can tell you what their majors are (without even seeing the trim on their hoods), what class he had them for, and what they got in it.

Part of the fun of teaching is the new mix of students that come with every class; in Popular Culture of the Twentieth Century, it's a teaching opportunity—generation gaps and geographic disparities and personal interests are the damn spice of life. When you can get an hour-long argument of the relative worth of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles going and get paid for it, you're living the dream.

It was during one of these classes that he'd first met Cas. Dean'd been a newly-minted associate professor, and Cas had been a really intense business major trying to fulfill a social sciences requirement. Dean had started the class by passing out a survey to gauge what the students as a whole skewed toward: favorite movies, latest books read, best bands of each decade, et cetera. Cas had immediately drawn Dean's attention because the only section he'd filled out was the book one, and the only thing he'd put in it was the names of textbooks.

(The conferring of degrees starts, and Dean adjusts his tam restlessly as names he recognizes begins droning out over the PA system.)

Cas, despite Dean's initial fears, had turned out to be a sponge. He'd just immerse himself in whatever the class discussed, then come back the next day talking criticisms and modern interpretations like a pro. Dean had been delighted. Soon he'd been intercepting Cas in the hallways before class and giving him additional research topics, lending him primary sources (such as issues from his very dear Silver Age Batman collection), and inviting him to seminars held primarily for social science majors. The result had been that Cas had turned up in the next semester's second-tier class.

Dean had been mildly surprised but intensely pleased when Cas changed majors in his junior year. He'd only been in business school so he could work for his dad and the rest of his crazy fundamentalist family anyway. Why waste such a mind schlepping bibles (or whatever) when it could be detailing the rise and fall of the American rock band instead?

When Cas had approached him for recommendation letters for grad school, Dean had been severely tempted to write a glowing one for their university and subtly damning ones for everywhere else, in a sneaky ploy to retain Cas as a protege. (Un)fortunately, a phone call to his kid brother confirmed that this was, in fact, a really truly terrible plan, jesus christ, Dean, what are you trying to do? Sabotage the guy? What the hell is wrong with you? Is he hot or something? (Shut up, Sam.)

Miracle of miracles, though, Cas had chosen to remain at his dear alma mater, and requested Dean as his advisor. What had followed were halcyon days of the most entertaining TA-led classes ever, extended coffee sessions where they talked exploitation films, takeout in Dean's office while they did source gathering for upcoming conferences, and jealous looks from the rest of the faculty.

For his master's thesis, Cas had chosen to focus on the evolution of the slasher flick, and for months Dean's nights had been full of Leatherface and Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger. He'd sat on the couch in his apartment and sipped beer while Cas scribbled frantically on notepads by the light of the screen. An interest in keeping his job and the fact that Cas never once had ever called him anything but Dr. Winchester (despite many opportunities to go on a first-name basis) was the only thing that kept Dean from offering to let him stay the night—it practically felt like dating.

That had been a dangerous road to start down. Once you stopped just "connecting with" the students and starting falling in love with them, shit got real. Suddenly, hanging out with his advisee and TA had been less business-and-pleasure and more business-and-awkward. Cas had become his friend, his hey-you-wanna-go-see-that-new-movie guy, his occasional jerk-off fantasy—he just hadn't been sure where the line was anymore. (Except for that last one. He had been pretty sure that last one violated some code of ethics.) Which, yeah, awkward. Position of power, significant influence, so on and so forth.

(They call Cas's name and Dean watches him stand and walk up to the stage, his mortarboard dipping to hide his face as he nods thanks when the president shakes his hand. Dean is busy shaking hands, too—every time a former student comes through, he gives a brief congratulations as they hurry on to find friends and family.)

Still, despite the ethical quandary, Dean had been surprised—and more than a little hurt—when Cas had announced that he was planning to pursue his doctoral studies elsewhere.

Last night, Dean had announced to him (privately and unofficially) that his thesis had been accepted by the university and, except for the small matter of commencement, Cas had graduated with a MS degree. Cas had given that strange, fierce, bewildering smile of his, surrounded as he was by original concert posters and the best toys of the 1980s that littered the shelves of Dean's office. It had occurred to Dean at the time that they were done—that his wunderkind was flying the coop. For a moment, he'd felt a little lost. He'd suggested celebratory drinks, but Cas had declined, citing today's activities as an excuse. So Dean had been forced to say goodnight, and start to accept that the good days were behind them.

But now Cas is coming down the stage, pausing a moment for the photographer to snap a shot, then turning into the exit passage where Dean has been watching the ceremony.

"Hey," Dean says, stepping away from the wall and reaching out with his right hand. "Congratulations, man. Couldn't have asked for a better—"

But Cas has dropped his diploma stand-in and has caught Dean's jaw with his left palm, and Dean's knocked back to the wall when Cas suddenly kisses him hard. It's open-mouthed, hot and expectant, and any resistance Dean might have thought of putting up folds like a deck of cards. Their right hands are pinned between them, still caught in an aborted handshake, and the shift of their robes and stoles make quiet rustles as the names drone on behind them.

"Congratulations," Dean reiterates stupidly, once Cas lets him up for air.

"Thank you," Cas replies, and there's a note of smugness there. "It's a good day to no longer be a student."

Dean feels tricked somehow, like he's just now realizing the implications of a grander scheme—such as the fact that there is no policy governing relationships between faculty and former students. He can't exactly say he minds, though. Hell, he doesn't really even mind the looks they're getting from the other people filing past.

"I think some drinks were on offer last night," Cas says, eyebrows tilted upward like he's trying to gauge Dean's reaction.

Dean feels an easy smirk slide into place as he flicks Cas's tassel. "Only if it's a date."

"Deal," Cas agrees.

Not worth connecting with the students his ass.

Love it! I'm such a sucker for the HS/College AU, and this was an especially good one. Well done, you! :D

Just wanted to say how much I absolutely LOVED this. Brilliant work :)

SO CUTE HOLY SHIT;_________________;

And Cas's Grave Yet Disappointed face, and Sam's wounded gazelle-face *cackles*

And Gabriel calling his little brother sparrow just melted me. *happysniffle*

Asdgffdsghfdsfgfghjdghgds.

NOM.

Also, apart from the sheer adorbness that is Dean pining over his student and best friend (man, I can't ever get enough of that), I love all the technical details you put in here. Their discussions and topics, names of degrees, everything just makes it that much more real, even in such a short story. Great job. <3

SOMETIMES THEY JUST NEED TO BE CUTE. Even if it baffles Dean.

Gabriel calling Castiel sparrow is completely my head-canon, for some reason. He also calls Sariel (other archangel) cygnet in this verse. Hm. At some point I should extrapolate lots of bird nicknames for the other angels from this.

(Mchael does not get a nickname. Michael is Srs Business.)

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WAFF-a-thon 2012 - Main Thread!

WAFFathon 2012 Official Thread

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Re: FILLED - Supernatural, Dean/Cas

Re: FILLED - Supernatural, Dean/Cas

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FILLED: An Element of Randomness

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Salt, Tequila, and Lime (1/2)

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Re: Supernatural, Team Free Love, a villa in Rome. [1/3]

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Filled - Applied Police Lyrics for Graduate Students (1/2)

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