Fic: Homophobia (1/1)
Title: Homophobia
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel (slight)
Summary: He isn't like that, doesn't swing that way, and has to make it known. No matter the consequences.
Warnings: Angst, torture
Word Count: 210
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine. Sad day :(
It was wrong. The whole thing was wrong. Being ridden around, being taken from everything and everyone he loved. But this took the cake.
And he had to put a stop to it. There was only so long he could take the deep, meaningful stares, the fleeting touches. The kiss had been too much, but he’d let it go. Taken it as a mistake.
The declaration of love, however, wasn’t going unnoticed. He’d put his foot down. He’d put his foot down, demanded it stop, and now he was staring through eyes that were no longer his at a man who seemed too broken to be able to function.
“It’s ok,” Dean whispered, eyes cast down to the sickly green motel carpeting. “I understand.” He shook his head. “You’re not different.”
He should have felt more satisfied than he did. He should have been happy. His body was being used, yes, but not in that way. He wasn’t being turned into a whore for another man’s pleasure.
He blinked, and he was somewhere else, somewhere cold.
The next time he saw Dean Winchester, the man was leaning over his brother, knife in hand, carving away at cooling flesh. Blue eyes met green, and Dean grinned. “He doesn’t love me, either.”
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel (slight)
Summary: He isn't like that, doesn't swing that way, and has to make it known. No matter the consequences.
Warnings: Angst, torture
Word Count: 210
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine. Sad day :(
It was wrong. The whole thing was wrong. Being ridden around, being taken from everything and everyone he loved. But this took the cake.
And he had to put a stop to it. There was only so long he could take the deep, meaningful stares, the fleeting touches. The kiss had been too much, but he’d let it go. Taken it as a mistake.
The declaration of love, however, wasn’t going unnoticed. He’d put his foot down. He’d put his foot down, demanded it stop, and now he was staring through eyes that were no longer his at a man who seemed too broken to be able to function.
“It’s ok,” Dean whispered, eyes cast down to the sickly green motel carpeting. “I understand.” He shook his head. “You’re not different.”
He should have felt more satisfied than he did. He should have been happy. His body was being used, yes, but not in that way. He wasn’t being turned into a whore for another man’s pleasure.
He blinked, and he was somewhere else, somewhere cold.
The next time he saw Dean Winchester, the man was leaning over his brother, knife in hand, carving away at cooling flesh. Blue eyes met green, and Dean grinned. “He doesn’t love me, either.”