Fic - Untitled - Dean/Cas - G
Title: None
Author choc_freckles
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Rating: G
Word Count: ~700
Summary: Cas feels
Author's Notes: I am so sorry. I meant to write something fluffy, really I did, but this is what happened instead. Apparently I'm in kind of a dark place rn? IDEK.
Also on AO3.
Sometimes Cas wonders why it took them so long to get to this place. Why it took them so long to figure out their feelings for each other and act on them. He feels a physical ache when he considers that his existence is so long, and Dean’s is so short. Dean’s life, to him, will pass in what will amount to the blink of an eye, and then he will be gone.
Cas wants to hit things when he thinks about that, because it did take them so long, in human terms, and, he reflects, in his terms as well, given that his time with Dean is so limited.
So he savors Dean’s kisses, allowing Dean’s taste to suffuse through him, thinking that he can imprint that unique flavor that is Dean upon his grace. Dean, who tastes like whiskey and smoke, coffee and something earthy that Cas can’t quite identify, but is still all Dean. Cas wants that flavor to be part of him for the rest of his days, which will be very long indeed, especially once Dean is gone.
Each night they are together, Cas wishes he could slow down the pace of time, stretch each millisecond into an hour, two, even a day, knowing that each moment that passes brings him that much closer to the end of their time together.
And Dean doesn’t understand. Dean doesn’t know the sense of loneliness that permeates through a being who has lived for millennia, and will live for millennia more. Cas never felt in place before. He always felt like his edges weren’t quite cut properly for where he was; some bits were too large for the slot he was in, others too small, and none of them fit right, not at all.
But with Dean, all those edges fit perfectly, even the jagged ones that Cas could never quite figure out. They mesh smoothly with Dean, and Cas’s rough edges are softened, just as Dean’s are against Cas.
So Cas treasures his time with Dean, listening to each inhale that Dean makes, each exhale. He maps Dean’s body and worships it with his lips, his fingers, his nose, his tongue, the palms of his hands, and still it isn’t enough, because there just isn’t enough time left. He rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, letting his hair tickle Dean’s nose, enjoying the undulations of Dean’s stomach and chest as he laughs at the feeling. They lie in the sun, perpendicular to each other, his head on Dean’s stomach, which has a soft outer layer, with a hard core to support Cas’s neck. It’s just the right height for Cas’s neck, supporting him perfectly, so that they can lie that way, basking in the sun for hours, until Dean gets bored with whatever he’s reading. Cas never gets bored with spending time like this, because he can catalog a myriad of sights and sounds associated with Dean.
Sometimes it seems to Cas that Dean is actually determined to make their time together even more brief than it already is. He throws himself into battle with demons and shape shifters and wraiths and witches as if his life were worth nothing, as if his death would not mean anything to anyone. He is reckless with his one life, and Cas knows that it’s because each and every time that Dean has died in the past, he’s been brought back. But Cas knows that the next time will be the last, and he dreads that moment.
Dread is an experience that Cas has never had, not before Dean. It was only after Dean that a sense of foreboding, a tight, uncomfortable feeling building low in his gut, manifested. Cas can barely breathe for it, but he wouldn’t trade it, not for one moment
Because Dean is the light in his life, the brightness and color that had not been there before. He is the shape within and around which Cas fits perfectly, and even when Dean is at his grumpiest, his most obnoxious and irritating (which can be quite frequently), Cas will take it, every single millisecond of it.
Because the alternative is unthinkable.
Author choc_freckles
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Rating: G
Word Count: ~700
Summary: Cas feels
Author's Notes: I am so sorry. I meant to write something fluffy, really I did, but this is what happened instead. Apparently I'm in kind of a dark place rn? IDEK.
Also on AO3.
Sometimes Cas wonders why it took them so long to get to this place. Why it took them so long to figure out their feelings for each other and act on them. He feels a physical ache when he considers that his existence is so long, and Dean’s is so short. Dean’s life, to him, will pass in what will amount to the blink of an eye, and then he will be gone.
Cas wants to hit things when he thinks about that, because it did take them so long, in human terms, and, he reflects, in his terms as well, given that his time with Dean is so limited.
So he savors Dean’s kisses, allowing Dean’s taste to suffuse through him, thinking that he can imprint that unique flavor that is Dean upon his grace. Dean, who tastes like whiskey and smoke, coffee and something earthy that Cas can’t quite identify, but is still all Dean. Cas wants that flavor to be part of him for the rest of his days, which will be very long indeed, especially once Dean is gone.
Each night they are together, Cas wishes he could slow down the pace of time, stretch each millisecond into an hour, two, even a day, knowing that each moment that passes brings him that much closer to the end of their time together.
And Dean doesn’t understand. Dean doesn’t know the sense of loneliness that permeates through a being who has lived for millennia, and will live for millennia more. Cas never felt in place before. He always felt like his edges weren’t quite cut properly for where he was; some bits were too large for the slot he was in, others too small, and none of them fit right, not at all.
But with Dean, all those edges fit perfectly, even the jagged ones that Cas could never quite figure out. They mesh smoothly with Dean, and Cas’s rough edges are softened, just as Dean’s are against Cas.
So Cas treasures his time with Dean, listening to each inhale that Dean makes, each exhale. He maps Dean’s body and worships it with his lips, his fingers, his nose, his tongue, the palms of his hands, and still it isn’t enough, because there just isn’t enough time left. He rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, letting his hair tickle Dean’s nose, enjoying the undulations of Dean’s stomach and chest as he laughs at the feeling. They lie in the sun, perpendicular to each other, his head on Dean’s stomach, which has a soft outer layer, with a hard core to support Cas’s neck. It’s just the right height for Cas’s neck, supporting him perfectly, so that they can lie that way, basking in the sun for hours, until Dean gets bored with whatever he’s reading. Cas never gets bored with spending time like this, because he can catalog a myriad of sights and sounds associated with Dean.
Sometimes it seems to Cas that Dean is actually determined to make their time together even more brief than it already is. He throws himself into battle with demons and shape shifters and wraiths and witches as if his life were worth nothing, as if his death would not mean anything to anyone. He is reckless with his one life, and Cas knows that it’s because each and every time that Dean has died in the past, he’s been brought back. But Cas knows that the next time will be the last, and he dreads that moment.
Dread is an experience that Cas has never had, not before Dean. It was only after Dean that a sense of foreboding, a tight, uncomfortable feeling building low in his gut, manifested. Cas can barely breathe for it, but he wouldn’t trade it, not for one moment
Because Dean is the light in his life, the brightness and color that had not been there before. He is the shape within and around which Cas fits perfectly, and even when Dean is at his grumpiest, his most obnoxious and irritating (which can be quite frequently), Cas will take it, every single millisecond of it.
Because the alternative is unthinkable.