Fic: Buttons
Title: Buttons
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: 5x03
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: In which there are buttons and Dean is confused
AN: Written for the spn_castiel comment!fic meme.
"Dude, look at you," Dean said, and there was still a laugh somewhere in the back of his throat.
Castiel obediently looked down, chin nudging against where the collar of his shirt was still half pulled out. His expression suggested he found his dishevelled state interesting, though he didn't make any move to fix it.
Dean huffed a laugh, twisted a little in his seat, then stretched over and pushed coat and jacket to one side so he could get to the undone buttons on Castiel's shirt.
Castiel tipped his head forward to watch, maybe to get tips on buttoning for later.
"You're really going to have to learn how clothes work," Dean told him, as he slid the buttons back through their holes, pulling the shirt straight as he went. Leather creaked when he shifted over, just a little further, fingers sliding up to tug the collar down, to slip underneath and straighten it.
Castiel breathed in, one quiet, almost surprised, breath and his throat twitched under Dean's knuckles.
"Of course that assumes you'll manage to get them off next time." Dean remembered, belatedly, that there might not be a next time. But he didn't bother to correct himself.
He was up to three buttons when he realised that Castiel smelled different- no, that wasn't right, he smelled of something, which was different enough. Something faint and sweet, and girly, an echo of lip gloss or perfume that seemed suddenly more noticeable in the closeness of the car. Where some girl- Chastity, had curled her humanity around him and left evidence behind.
Dean leant in, just a little closer, fingers suddenly slow on the last button, and he was going to blame that on the dark. He was going to blame that on the edge of thick cotton and the way Cas was still trying to watch. Still tipped down, breath flaring over Dean's fingers in steady warm bursts.
The slope of Castiel's neck was smooth against Dean's fingers, the edge of his jaw rough on the back of his hand and when Dean stopped looking, when he lifted his head he found the same girl-sweet smell, stronger than before. It seemed to cling to Castiel in a way that shouldn't have been distracting. An edge of suggestive promise that should have been strange under the circumstances, or at least funny, but wasn't.
Dean found himself, too close, staring at Castiel's mouth in the half light. There was a barely-there shine against his lower lip. The faint edge of gloss smeared there by a kiss- and Dean held his breath for a long second when his instant reaction wasn't exactly what it should have been.
Because the thought that someone had treated Castiel like he was real, like he was soft and human. The realisation that someone had touched him and coaxed him into touching them back.
Dean was aware, suddenly and surprisingly, that just maybe he was jealous of that, and he wasn't exactly sure how to deal with it.
The world was suddenly just a little bit different than it was before.
Maybe a lot different?
So he didn't deal with it, instead he straightened the edge of Castiel's tie, but this time he definitely noticed how warm Castiel was through the shirt, how he could still feel his breath against his fingers, and how the angel was soft and still and utterly trusting under his hands.
Which, under the circumstance, left Dean feeling like kind of a dick.
Because he remembered that he was the one who'd given Castiel the talk about personal space and now he was the one that was overstepping- hell maybe not just overstepping because at least Castiel had never done it on purpose.
Castiel was still watching him, curiously, like Dean was still demonstrating important human skills and not-
-whatever the hell he was doing instead.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: 5x03
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: In which there are buttons and Dean is confused
AN: Written for the spn_castiel comment!fic meme.
"Dude, look at you," Dean said, and there was still a laugh somewhere in the back of his throat.
Castiel obediently looked down, chin nudging against where the collar of his shirt was still half pulled out. His expression suggested he found his dishevelled state interesting, though he didn't make any move to fix it.
Dean huffed a laugh, twisted a little in his seat, then stretched over and pushed coat and jacket to one side so he could get to the undone buttons on Castiel's shirt.
Castiel tipped his head forward to watch, maybe to get tips on buttoning for later.
"You're really going to have to learn how clothes work," Dean told him, as he slid the buttons back through their holes, pulling the shirt straight as he went. Leather creaked when he shifted over, just a little further, fingers sliding up to tug the collar down, to slip underneath and straighten it.
Castiel breathed in, one quiet, almost surprised, breath and his throat twitched under Dean's knuckles.
"Of course that assumes you'll manage to get them off next time." Dean remembered, belatedly, that there might not be a next time. But he didn't bother to correct himself.
He was up to three buttons when he realised that Castiel smelled different- no, that wasn't right, he smelled of something, which was different enough. Something faint and sweet, and girly, an echo of lip gloss or perfume that seemed suddenly more noticeable in the closeness of the car. Where some girl- Chastity, had curled her humanity around him and left evidence behind.
Dean leant in, just a little closer, fingers suddenly slow on the last button, and he was going to blame that on the dark. He was going to blame that on the edge of thick cotton and the way Cas was still trying to watch. Still tipped down, breath flaring over Dean's fingers in steady warm bursts.
The slope of Castiel's neck was smooth against Dean's fingers, the edge of his jaw rough on the back of his hand and when Dean stopped looking, when he lifted his head he found the same girl-sweet smell, stronger than before. It seemed to cling to Castiel in a way that shouldn't have been distracting. An edge of suggestive promise that should have been strange under the circumstances, or at least funny, but wasn't.
Dean found himself, too close, staring at Castiel's mouth in the half light. There was a barely-there shine against his lower lip. The faint edge of gloss smeared there by a kiss- and Dean held his breath for a long second when his instant reaction wasn't exactly what it should have been.
Because the thought that someone had treated Castiel like he was real, like he was soft and human. The realisation that someone had touched him and coaxed him into touching them back.
Dean was aware, suddenly and surprisingly, that just maybe he was jealous of that, and he wasn't exactly sure how to deal with it.
The world was suddenly just a little bit different than it was before.
Maybe a lot different?
So he didn't deal with it, instead he straightened the edge of Castiel's tie, but this time he definitely noticed how warm Castiel was through the shirt, how he could still feel his breath against his fingers, and how the angel was soft and still and utterly trusting under his hands.
Which, under the circumstance, left Dean feeling like kind of a dick.
Because he remembered that he was the one who'd given Castiel the talk about personal space and now he was the one that was overstepping- hell maybe not just overstepping because at least Castiel had never done it on purpose.
Castiel was still watching him, curiously, like Dean was still demonstrating important human skills and not-
-whatever the hell he was doing instead.