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help i genuinely accidentally started writing a queer eye/destiel au – like i was just headcanoning shit, because i had to drive like five hours yesterday and when i got home i wanted to just get it down because it was fun, and so just started writing down tan + cas’ wardrobe, and antoni + burgers, but somehow with bobby and jonathan it’s escalated to like actual dialogue and story format and i did not mean to do this

OKAY has anyone done a queer eye/supernatural destiel au? like, Dean nominates his dorky, awkward roommate, mostly as a joke, though maybe a little bit in the name of getting Cas kinda put together for, I dunno, some theology conference or something, so he doesn’t look like quite such a, well, theology professor. And I feel like it’d be really hard to write their voices, but I can so see it.

like, immediate raised eyebrows and skeptical shared glances as Dean obliviously goes on about his totally just friend-roommate-buddy ol’-pal, but keep quiet until they’re back in the loft and just like oh my god what do we do, and immediately add some careful instigating and matchmaking to their makeover week. (of course cut together with some extremely attractive shots of Dean and Cas, and then JVN just clasping his hands and raising his eyes to heaven and being like, I love this job so much.)

—

Tan bemoans Cas’ closet of rumpled suits and ill-fitting button-ups, plucking exasperatedly at the trench coat – which Cas would absolutely put his foot down at binning the coat in favor of something more stylish, but grudgingly agrees to have it tailored so it at least skims his body the way it should. and Tan agrees to keep the bones of Cas’ wardrobe mostly the same style, only in items that actually fit him – and when Cas finally shrugs off his old white button-down in order to try on a simple, softer one that’s actually in his size, revealing a toned chest and defined abs and a frankly obscene set of biceps, he’s like oh – oh. yes. this I can work with.

And while Cas balks at the black skinny jeans that mold to his ass and legs like a glove, he likes the pair of plain, slim-fit levis, so the old walmart jeans get tossed in the trash, and a couple of silky button-downs in blues and greys are added to the pile. a few hours in a tailor’s shop turns out two crisp new suits, and Cas stumbles through the door in his new jeans and shirt, looking slightly shellshocked, and Tan is pleased to note the way Dean’s pupils dilate slightly before he coughs and claps Cas on the shoulder, declaring, “lookin’ good, buddy.”

—

To Antoni’s exasperation, Cas doesn’t seem to have a lot of particularly strong food preferences, aside from an emphatic if inexplicable aversion to PB&Js. Fnally he tries another tack, looking around the clean, fairly well-equipped kitchen, and is like, “look, Dean’s told us he likes to cool. What does he usually make?” “Burgers,” is Cas’ immediate reply, accompanied by a small smile. “Burgers and pie.”

[to the camera]: “So, glossing over the fact that cas apparently knows Dean’s favorites better than his own, we at least have a starting point.”

[back to Cas]: “So, what we’re going to do is to take these burgers and pie, and ramp them up from delicious to decadent, infusing the burgers with a simple Cuban citrus sauce, served with avocado, caramelized onions, and a garlic-tequila aioli.” (Cas snorts: “i think he’d like that.”) “And then,” Antoni continues, “we’re going to up his pie game with a salted caramel apple pie.” Cas’ eyes goes wide, and Antoni laughs at cas’ obvious panic. “I promise, it’ll be amazing. We’ll start with a prepared crust for now, and the only difference from any other apple pie is the caramel sauce, which has exactly four ingredients.” Cas still is nervous, looking for approval as he measures out every tablespoon, but with the smells filling the kitchen, he thinks it might be worth it.

—

“So how long have you lived with Dean?” Bobby asks, looking up at the living room appraisingly.

“Nine years,” Cas replies, eyes darting around absently, and Bobby’s eyebrows go up.

“Nine years?” The apartment is spacious, for Atlanta-area standards, with an extra bedroom occupied by a mattress on the floor, and an office and a tiny den, on top of their bedrooms and the living room and kitchen, but it doesn’t seem to hold nine years of home.

“Nine years altogether,” Cas clarifies, blushing, noting Bobby’s look of surprise. “Two in college, then a frankly terrible apartment for another four. Then I secured an assistant professorship, and Dean got promoted at his auto shop, so we had the money to get a decent place for the last three years.”

Bobby cocks his head. “He’s a mechanic?”

“Yes,” Cas bristles. “An amazing one. And –”

“Hey!” Bobby laughs, holding his hands up. “I only asked because that big black beauty in your driveway makes more sense now.”

Cas immediately relaxes, a smile quirking on his lips. “Freel free to ask him about her, but he’ll never shut up.”

“I totally will.” Bobby moves around the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards. “Antoni says your kitchen is in decent shape, so I’m going to leave it alone for now. What do you want?”

Cas is silent for a moment, chewing his lip. “I don’t really have a family,” he finally says. “But Dean does. And they’re …” He pauses a second again. “They’re kind of mine too. I’d like to have a better space, with a real guest room for his brother, and at least a pull-out in the living room.”

Bobby watches him for a moment, decides not to ask. “So, your room needs to be cleaned up, and another bookcase or seven put in, but it’s not terrible. I think we should focus on the den and living room. The spaces you guys hang out together.”

Cas grins at him briefly, then drops his eyes, but is still smiling.

—

“Oh my God,” Jonathan breathes, sifting his hands through Cas’ hair. “Is this really my life?” He sniffs Cas’ neck, and Cas lets out an embarrassing squeak, but is also laughing, a little bit, and Jonathan laughs too, tugging on a stray strand.

“Look.” He pulls Cas’ hair up until it’s sticking up straight, then fidgets with it, arranging it to the sides, down the middle, and finally just mussing it until it’s sticking up in all directions. “Honey, you have it all.”

“Okay. So, the stubble: really good look on you. And this sex-hair? Oh, my God. You could do literally nothing else, just gorg, and I kind of hate you for it. But, since apparently Dean says you’re this scary-smart professor, we’ve got to do something about these chappy lips and this hair.”

Cas’ hand automatically rubs at his lips, and Jonathan bats it away. “So, Dean told us you like bees, which is amazing for honey puns. But also amazing for your lips.” He adds some sugar and a dash of olive oil, mixing it all together before smearing it on Cas’ lips. “Scrub that in for a minute, feels like you have fresh little baby lips. Meanwhile, your hair. And this beautiful little stubble.”

Cas’ eyes goes wide, one hand going to his hair and the other to his cheek, and Jonathan bursts out laughing. “We’re not going to shear you, honey!”

So Jonathan rubs some product in his hands, flattening Cas’ hair while still leaving a few spiky spots, looking intentional instead of just-rolled-out-of-bed. Then he spins the chair around, examining Cas’ face critically.

“Personally, I want to see those cheekbones, because, Jesus help me Lord.” He tilts Cas’ face up and around. “But what do you want?”

Cas flushes instantly. “I like, uh. I like the ‘peach fuzz’.”

“Yes!” Jonathan dips his fingers into some unidentifiable jar of goo, then rubs it along Cas’ face and neck. “Your skin is amazing, but you need to be more deliberate, deciding what you want instead of just slashing away.” He shaves carefully along Cas’ jawline, leaving his neck clean but stubble framing his face.

“Give me strength,” Jonathan says, fanning himself. “Give me strength.”

Karamo just observes, at first. These two guys welcomed five gay dudes into their home with warmth and laughter and jokes, but that doesn’t mean both or either are out of the closet – or in the closet, really, despite the way they look at each other. His instincts are good, but not perfect. He calls Jonathan on the way to pick Cas up.

“Yes, boobie?”

“Should I push it?” Karamo asks bluntly. “Should I just try to make sure he’s comfortable and confident, and leave the rest to them?” 

There’s a pause, then a sigh.

“If any of us can, you can,” Jonathan admits. “If you can get them on board, we can take it from there.”

Karamo rubs his nose between two fingertips. “This is not what I signed up for.”

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Jonathan sings, and Karamo can almost hear the swish of his hair as he hangs up.

reblogging this because i keep wanting to continue it but can never find it past the first post

IDK WHO REBLOGGED THIS BUT Y’ALL HAVE PUT ME BACK IN THIS DUMPSTER HOLE

(even though karamo is by far the hardest for me to figure out here have some more)

– – –

“So tell me about this conference,” Karamo says, fingers steepled
solemnly under his chin – an effect somewhat countered by the slow circles he’s
spinning in Cas’ desk chair.

Cas shrugs, shifting awkwardly on the corner of the bed. “Uh… it’s a
conference?” he offers.

“It’s a conference,” Karamo repeats, pausing the chair long enough to
raise his eyes to the ceiling. “Academic, right?”

“Oh,” Cas mumbles, flushing slightly. “Yeah. Uh, theology. Not very
exciting.”

Karamo cocks an eyebrow at him. “Sounds like it’s interesting to you.
Are you… pursuing the seminary?” he ventures, wondering suddenly if Operation
Cas-and-Dean needs to hit the brakes immediately.

To his relief, Cas just snorts. “My upbringing shut down any interest
in that path, had I any interest in it to begin with. But the impact that millennia
of theology has had on current social trends is fascinating. Though the subject
does not endear me to many colleagues.” He shrugs again, ruefully, looking at
the floor.

Karamo studies him briefly, then decides to change direction. “So, is
Dean going with you? Moral support and all that?”

Cas’ eyes snap to his, unreadable, but he can’t quite hide a small smile.
“He is. His work is fairly flexible and he enjoys the road trips. And I don’t
have to make up a fake plus-one for the… socializing.”
He ends with actual air quotes, which Karamo seizes on to excuse his choked
laughter.

“You do realize,” he finally says, carefully, “Dean is your plus-one?”

Cas narrows his eyes and studies him, in turn, and for a moment Karamo
feels oddly exposed under the bright blue eyes. But then Cas groans, folding forward
to drop his head into his hands.

“Yes,” he says to his knees. “I realize. And if you tell him that, I
will smite you.”

Okay, then, Karamo thinks,
gears turning in his head, but he opts to table it. “All right,” he says,
kicking off one last spin in the chair before standing up. “Show me how you’re
going to give this talk.”

“Have you ever worn glasses?” Tan says abruptly, as Cas tries on yet another
blazer, tugging at the sleeves.

“Um, sometimes,” Cas answers. He shifts around, smoothing the fabric
over his ass, and Tan rubs his forehead. “Usually contacts.”

“Okay. Well, glasses can actually add to your style, especially with eyes like yours. Can I
see the ones you wear?”

“Uh, sure.” Cas rummages through his nightstand and comes up with a
nondescript pair of wire-frames, perching them on his nose and squinting
through the kaleidoscope of his contacts through the glasses.

“Oh, that does not look
pleasant,” Tan laughs. “Take them off before
you give yourself a migraine.”

Cas obeys, looking slightly put out, and folds them onto his dresser.

“So, I don’t actually dislike them,” Tan says, picking them up and
holding them in front of his face. “They’re neutral, and certainly don’t
detract from anything, but they’re bland.”

“I’m a theologian,” Cas
inserts mulishly, and Tan hides a grin.

“Yes, but you should be a
young, interesting, hot theologian,”
he declares. Rummaging in his bags, he produces a handful of lensless plastic
frames. “Try these on. They don’t draw attention by themselves, but they’ll
frame your bone structure and highlight those gorgeous eyes.”

Hesitantly, Cas grabs the first pair. Narrow and circular, they barely
outline his eyes, and they barely touch his nose before Cas is snatching them
off, and Tan holds up his hands half in amusement and half apology.

“Okay, so no. Sometimes they work surprisingly well, so I thought I’d
throw them in.  What about these?”

Still half-glaring suspiciously, Cas settles the next pair on, squarish
and slightly oversized.

“Okay, no, I love these!” Tan exclaims. “Look: the lenses are big
enough to highlight your gorgeous eyes, but the frames sit right where your
jawline is, which leads the eye all the way down to your chin.”

Cas studies his reflection in the mirror, head tilted. “I like them,”
he finally declares, with finality, and Tan huffs a sigh of satisfaction.

“Fantastic,” he says, plucking the frames off Cas’ face. “We’ll order
you two pairs, with prescription and without.”  

“Okay,” Cas agrees, with a small smile. “Dean makes fun of my ‘nerd-glasses.’”

“Well,” Tan says without missing a beat, “won’t it be a bit fun to show
him your sexy-glasses then, especially after we get you into a few casual
outfits that actually work for you, won’t it?”

Cas flushes again, and Tan turns around just long enough to scream
silently at the camera before heading back to Cas’ closet.