How's Forever Been Baby | SPN | PG-13
Title: How’s Forever Been Baby
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,000
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: H/C and fluff. Unbeta'ed.
Summary: “We could make another memory here. One that’s less unfortunate.”
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N : Written for spn_30snapshots; theme 10: a picture is worth a thousand words.
you look out upon the sea
do you still see the sea
i get the fire of the bones
you say i come in peace
how's forever been baby
Three Rivers, Michigan.
There were few things more peaceful than the silence settling across a lake as evening fell. The stir of echoes created by calm, lapping waves and the nip of autumn air that seemed to slow and stop all sound before it reached chilly, red ears.
Dean sat in the sand, ignoring the damp that seeped through his jeans as he dug his heels into the soft swells of earth and propped his hands upon his knees. Sam was down the road grabbing some burgers at the only diner within ten miles from here.
It was the off-season, and the damp, scarred docks were deconstructed and piled high near a tree bank to his left. Dead leaves and seaweed choked out the lip of the beach that met the lake; the subtle breeze here carrying the faint smell of rain and pine and compost. Dean watched a Great Blue Heron glide low over the dark crystalline surface, spindly spider legs stretched out with its toes skimming and frothing through the water.
Soundless arrival, soundless flight, soundless departure.
Sometimes Dean wished he could do the same. Go gentle into that good night. Let the liquid dark swim around him, lift him up and lighten his load; extinguish the inflamed wounds on his soul and bring him peace.
But then there was the fact that Dean still desperately wished for life.
He treaded water until his muscles seized, and his skin went clammy, and his heart lurched and lagged. Waged war with the waves, even when the anchor of his guilt weighed him down to the bottom and he had to walk the bone-littered ocean floor.
The Dean who treasured memories and music and family wanted to live. But the Dean who tortured and was tortured and had ash for a soul and golden embers for eyes wouldn’t allow it.
“Dean?”
Dean didn’t have the energy to startle this time. Instead he watched a fat muskrat cut a wake across the lake, heading to the muddy den Dean knew was tucked into the far bank, beneath the willow tree.
Nowadays Castiel would show up more and more often. Seemed like the closer they became, the keener their connection and the stronger Dean’s seep of emotions signalled Cas to his thoughts. It annoyed the living shit out of Dean most days - but here and now in this place that soothed Dean’s soul, he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Not when Castiel served as a salve for his burns, too.
“Have a seat.”
There was no hesitation is Castiel’s step as he approached Dean, the heels of his dress shoes kicking up sand as he went. Cas plopped beside Dean on the cold, lumpy beach and looked so awkward and dishevelled in this environment that Dean had to smirk.
“You like beaches, Cas?”
“I like this particular place.”
The lake from Dean’s dream.
Dean hummed a noncommittal noise and looked to his other side, picked up a pebble and chucked it into the water. The dinky plonk and splash of the stone ricocheted hollowly off the cell of trees surrounding them.
“Me too. S’about the only beach I give a shit about.”
Cas shifted and looked to Dean. “You’ve been here before.”
“One July when I was a kid,” Dean said, finally holding Castiel’s gaze. His eyes mirrored the depths of the water; dark and deep and flickering here and there like sun sparkling on the waves.
Dean swayed into Castiel’s space, arms flush against each other’s. Cas was always so inhumanly warm, like Christmas sweaters that Dean wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. But he didn’t mind being caught wrapped in Cas.
“Dad and Sam and I came on a case. Ended up staying a couple of weeks just down the road. I’d come down here and hang out with the other kids. Swam and got sunburnt and chased highschool girls.”
Castiel’s arm tucked beneath Dean’s elbow, with his hand resting upon Dean’s thigh. Their shoulders leaned against each other for support. Cas smelled like the sea and mint and made Dean think of boardwalk ice cream in California.
“That sounds like a pleasant memory.”
“Then I got bit on the head by this horsefly and the little bastard sucked out so much blood that I had to go the hospital from the size of the welt he left on my scalp.”
A silent chuckle shook Castiel’s frame as he tucked his head against the junction of Dean’s neck and shoulder. “It appears that unfortunate situations follow you wherever you go.”
Dean grunted, but his lips nudged into a curve. “Could say the same for you.”
“True,” Cas said, gravelly and hushed. He angled his chin and nuzzled his nose beneath Dean’s ear. “We could make another memory here. One that’s less unfortunate.”
A long, liquid pull languidly travelled through Dean’s limbs and pooled hot and heavy between his legs. With a groan of approval rumbling at the base of his throat, Dean turned and found Castiel’s already-open mouth. They breathed life into each other with humid huffs; their tongues lashed and licked and lapped, unrelenting as waves. The sound of Dean’s stubble scraping over Castiel’s chin was raw in his ears, scratching shivers down his spine that had nothing to do with the impending evening.
Cas cupped the nape of Dean’s neck and brought them closer. Cas was always desperate for more, always seemingly starving for Dean. The tide of Castiel’s need pulled powerfully at Dean; feeling this important, this irreplaceable to someone else was a balm on Dean’s soul and a fire in his heart.
Eventually they pulled back enough to rest their foreheads upon each other’s, their noses brushing and bumping companionably.
“Well, this definitely tops being hospitalised.”
Castiel’s lips twitched. “I’m so relieved.”
And for the night, there was peace.
Series: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,000
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: H/C and fluff. Unbeta'ed.
Summary: “We could make another memory here. One that’s less unfortunate.”
Disclaimer: Somewhere over the slash rainbow of my mind, it happened. But not in Kansas, unfortunately.
A/N : Written for spn_30snapshots; theme 10: a picture is worth a thousand words.
you look out upon the sea
do you still see the sea
i get the fire of the bones
you say i come in peace
how's forever been baby
Three Rivers, Michigan.
There were few things more peaceful than the silence settling across a lake as evening fell. The stir of echoes created by calm, lapping waves and the nip of autumn air that seemed to slow and stop all sound before it reached chilly, red ears.
Dean sat in the sand, ignoring the damp that seeped through his jeans as he dug his heels into the soft swells of earth and propped his hands upon his knees. Sam was down the road grabbing some burgers at the only diner within ten miles from here.
It was the off-season, and the damp, scarred docks were deconstructed and piled high near a tree bank to his left. Dead leaves and seaweed choked out the lip of the beach that met the lake; the subtle breeze here carrying the faint smell of rain and pine and compost. Dean watched a Great Blue Heron glide low over the dark crystalline surface, spindly spider legs stretched out with its toes skimming and frothing through the water.
Soundless arrival, soundless flight, soundless departure.
Sometimes Dean wished he could do the same. Go gentle into that good night. Let the liquid dark swim around him, lift him up and lighten his load; extinguish the inflamed wounds on his soul and bring him peace.
But then there was the fact that Dean still desperately wished for life.
He treaded water until his muscles seized, and his skin went clammy, and his heart lurched and lagged. Waged war with the waves, even when the anchor of his guilt weighed him down to the bottom and he had to walk the bone-littered ocean floor.
The Dean who treasured memories and music and family wanted to live. But the Dean who tortured and was tortured and had ash for a soul and golden embers for eyes wouldn’t allow it.
“Dean?”
Dean didn’t have the energy to startle this time. Instead he watched a fat muskrat cut a wake across the lake, heading to the muddy den Dean knew was tucked into the far bank, beneath the willow tree.
Nowadays Castiel would show up more and more often. Seemed like the closer they became, the keener their connection and the stronger Dean’s seep of emotions signalled Cas to his thoughts. It annoyed the living shit out of Dean most days - but here and now in this place that soothed Dean’s soul, he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Not when Castiel served as a salve for his burns, too.
“Have a seat.”
There was no hesitation is Castiel’s step as he approached Dean, the heels of his dress shoes kicking up sand as he went. Cas plopped beside Dean on the cold, lumpy beach and looked so awkward and dishevelled in this environment that Dean had to smirk.
“You like beaches, Cas?”
“I like this particular place.”
The lake from Dean’s dream.
Dean hummed a noncommittal noise and looked to his other side, picked up a pebble and chucked it into the water. The dinky plonk and splash of the stone ricocheted hollowly off the cell of trees surrounding them.
“Me too. S’about the only beach I give a shit about.”
Cas shifted and looked to Dean. “You’ve been here before.”
“One July when I was a kid,” Dean said, finally holding Castiel’s gaze. His eyes mirrored the depths of the water; dark and deep and flickering here and there like sun sparkling on the waves.
Dean swayed into Castiel’s space, arms flush against each other’s. Cas was always so inhumanly warm, like Christmas sweaters that Dean wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. But he didn’t mind being caught wrapped in Cas.
“Dad and Sam and I came on a case. Ended up staying a couple of weeks just down the road. I’d come down here and hang out with the other kids. Swam and got sunburnt and chased highschool girls.”
Castiel’s arm tucked beneath Dean’s elbow, with his hand resting upon Dean’s thigh. Their shoulders leaned against each other for support. Cas smelled like the sea and mint and made Dean think of boardwalk ice cream in California.
“That sounds like a pleasant memory.”
“Then I got bit on the head by this horsefly and the little bastard sucked out so much blood that I had to go the hospital from the size of the welt he left on my scalp.”
A silent chuckle shook Castiel’s frame as he tucked his head against the junction of Dean’s neck and shoulder. “It appears that unfortunate situations follow you wherever you go.”
Dean grunted, but his lips nudged into a curve. “Could say the same for you.”
“True,” Cas said, gravelly and hushed. He angled his chin and nuzzled his nose beneath Dean’s ear. “We could make another memory here. One that’s less unfortunate.”
A long, liquid pull languidly travelled through Dean’s limbs and pooled hot and heavy between his legs. With a groan of approval rumbling at the base of his throat, Dean turned and found Castiel’s already-open mouth. They breathed life into each other with humid huffs; their tongues lashed and licked and lapped, unrelenting as waves. The sound of Dean’s stubble scraping over Castiel’s chin was raw in his ears, scratching shivers down his spine that had nothing to do with the impending evening.
Cas cupped the nape of Dean’s neck and brought them closer. Cas was always desperate for more, always seemingly starving for Dean. The tide of Castiel’s need pulled powerfully at Dean; feeling this important, this irreplaceable to someone else was a balm on Dean’s soul and a fire in his heart.
Eventually they pulled back enough to rest their foreheads upon each other’s, their noses brushing and bumping companionably.
“Well, this definitely tops being hospitalised.”
Castiel’s lips twitched. “I’m so relieved.”
And for the night, there was peace.