Rules of Engagement, Sam & preshlash Dean/Castiel, PG, no warnings, (1/2)murronMarch 30 2010, 20:43:25 UTC
Probably not quite what you had in mind. I just had this image of Dean watching Cas undress and it sort of ran away with me from there.
Anyways, her goes:
Rules of Engagement, Sam, preshlash Dean/Castiel, PG, no warnings, (1/2)
Later he couldn’t remember why Cas was with them that day. They didn’t work a case, no one threatened their life and the world wasn’t about to end. Or, you know, not right away.
For early May, the day was freakishly hot, the sun striking down at 30 degrees. Sam had sweated through his shirt and even the cotton felt greasy. He kept rubbing at his itching neck until lifting his hand became too much of a bother.
The Impala ate the miles but even with all the windows rolled down there was little relief. The air that rolled in tasted thick as dust.
Sam took another swig from his water-bottle, his skin feeling feverish and tight. Dean looked no better off, his neck flushed and sweat beading high on his forehead. Even Cas seemed to be affected, staring glassy-eyed out the window.
When they reached an intersection, Dean suddenly said, “Screw that,” and steered the Impala off the highway. Sam got a glimpse of a sign advertising the Shepherd Lake Picnic Area with a grinning beaver tucked to one corner.
The view ahead showed green country, a strip of wood and hayfields on either side. A few miles in, the road reached a picnic spot but Dean passed it by, following the single-lane even after it segued into a dirt track. Two minutes later, the Impala had reached the tree belt. It was a small wood, mostly pines, Sam decided, but the moment they passed into the trees’ shadow, the temperature dropped a sweet notch. It wasn’t just the pines, Sam realised. There was a new quality to the car’s slipstream, a fresh and clean breeze you only got close to water.
When the lakefront appeared behind the copse, Sam leaned forward in his seat, heart flipping over. The lake wasn’t big but it was clear as a mirror, reflecting the pines and the gently rolling hills on the far bank. A forgotten rowboat lay keel up on the narrow beach.
Tyres crunching on silt, Dean brought them almost to the edge of the water before he turned off the engine. In the rear-view mirror Sam got a glimpse of Cas’ frown but he didn’t stop to explain, just got out of the car on stiff legs.
He was still sweating, the sun hammering down on his head but the open fridge-door cool that radiated off the lake was a blessing in itself.
“Last one in buys dinner?” Dean suggested from the other side of the hood.
Sam felt the grin spread over his face. “You’re on, bitch.”
Chaos trumped coordination as they tore their shirts off over their heads, hopping on one leg to lose their boots before getting tangled up in their denims.
Sam beat Dean by an inch, splashing into the lake with a triumphant whoop. The water wasn’t just clean and silky cool, it was pretty fucking awesome. Sam dived and came back up for a long, satisfied breath. When he checked for Dean, his brother just resurfaced, shoulders breaking water and hair smoothed to his skull.
“Your treat, slowpoke,” Sam announced and Dean splashed water in his face.
“Smartass.”
“Jerk.”
Around that time they realised Cas kept watching them from the bank. He hadn’t even taken off his coat: he just stood there, arms hanging by his side, looking almost comically bedraggled and forlorn.
“Cas, come on,” Dean called. “Get on in here!”
Even from the distance Sam could see Cas raise a doubting brow. “It’s not deep,” Sam assured him, figuring that mastering the breast stroke wasn’t part of angel squad basics.
Cas began to peel off his clothes one piece a time, starting with the butt-ugly coat. Sam tried to remember if he’d ever seen Cas without it and failed. Oh and the way Cas unknotted his tie real slow - well, Sam thought, other people would consider that striptease. Taking a look at his brother, Sam realised that other people stood right next to him.
Standing very still, Dean full on stared and his blush had little to do with the heat.
Sam chuckled, muttering: “Water not cold enough for you?”
Anyways, her goes:
Rules of Engagement, Sam, preshlash Dean/Castiel, PG, no warnings, (1/2)
Later he couldn’t remember why Cas was with them that day. They didn’t work a case, no one threatened their life and the world wasn’t about to end. Or, you know, not right away.
For early May, the day was freakishly hot, the sun striking down at 30 degrees. Sam had sweated through his shirt and even the cotton felt greasy. He kept rubbing at his itching neck until lifting his hand became too much of a bother.
The Impala ate the miles but even with all the windows rolled down there was little relief. The air that rolled in tasted thick as dust.
Sam took another swig from his water-bottle, his skin feeling feverish and tight. Dean looked no better off, his neck flushed and sweat beading high on his forehead. Even Cas seemed to be affected, staring glassy-eyed out the window.
When they reached an intersection, Dean suddenly said, “Screw that,” and steered the Impala off the highway. Sam got a glimpse of a sign advertising the Shepherd Lake Picnic Area with a grinning beaver tucked to one corner.
The view ahead showed green country, a strip of wood and hayfields on either side. A few miles in, the road reached a picnic spot but Dean passed it by, following the single-lane even after it segued into a dirt track. Two minutes later, the Impala had reached the tree belt. It was a small wood, mostly pines, Sam decided, but the moment they passed into the trees’ shadow, the temperature dropped a sweet notch. It wasn’t just the pines, Sam realised. There was a new quality to the car’s slipstream, a fresh and clean breeze you only got close to water.
When the lakefront appeared behind the copse, Sam leaned forward in his seat, heart flipping over. The lake wasn’t big but it was clear as a mirror, reflecting the pines and the gently rolling hills on the far bank. A forgotten rowboat lay keel up on the narrow beach.
Tyres crunching on silt, Dean brought them almost to the edge of the water before he turned off the engine. In the rear-view mirror Sam got a glimpse of Cas’ frown but he didn’t stop to explain, just got out of the car on stiff legs.
He was still sweating, the sun hammering down on his head but the open fridge-door cool that radiated off the lake was a blessing in itself.
“Last one in buys dinner?” Dean suggested from the other side of the hood.
Sam felt the grin spread over his face. “You’re on, bitch.”
Chaos trumped coordination as they tore their shirts off over their heads, hopping on one leg to lose their boots before getting tangled up in their denims.
Sam beat Dean by an inch, splashing into the lake with a triumphant whoop. The water wasn’t just clean and silky cool, it was pretty fucking awesome. Sam dived and came back up for a long, satisfied breath. When he checked for Dean, his brother just resurfaced, shoulders breaking water and hair smoothed to his skull.
“Your treat, slowpoke,” Sam announced and Dean splashed water in his face.
“Smartass.”
“Jerk.”
Around that time they realised Cas kept watching them from the bank. He hadn’t even taken off his coat: he just stood there, arms hanging by his side, looking almost comically bedraggled and forlorn.
“Cas, come on,” Dean called. “Get on in here!”
Even from the distance Sam could see Cas raise a doubting brow. “It’s not deep,” Sam assured him, figuring that mastering the breast stroke wasn’t part of angel squad basics.
Cas began to peel off his clothes one piece a time, starting with the butt-ugly coat. Sam tried to remember if he’d ever seen Cas without it and failed. Oh and the way Cas unknotted his tie real slow - well, Sam thought, other people would consider that striptease. Taking a look at his brother, Sam realised that other people stood right next to him.
Standing very still, Dean full on stared and his blush had little to do with the heat.
Sam chuckled, muttering: “Water not cold enough for you?”
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