(2/3) *coughs* Dean/Castiel, "I love you"devilsduplicityMay 30 2010, 14:02:27 UTC
"Not with you hanging over me, breathing down my neck."
The body behind him, though already still, somehow froze even further.
"Why not?" There was no insult there, simply curiosity and confusion.
Dean closed his eyes, opened them again.
"As much as I love having you as my personal stalker, Cas, it's... kinda distracting."
There was that word again. 'Love'. But it was okay when his voice was laced with heavy sarcasm, right? It was acceptable then. Didn't matter if it might or might not be true... or not. No one needed to know that, even if the one not knowing was the only one who really knew.
... God, his head hurt.
Dean shifted, went to lay his head down, but Castiel pressed a hand to his side, slid an arm against his pillow, pushed it out of the way, and before Dean could help it, he was laying his temple against the suit jacket of said personal stalker. He sighed, deflated, thought about complaining, but eventually let his eyelids flutter shut in silent defeat.
"I'm not a woman," he said, voice smooth, no longer tight, but still pressing, still insistent.
Castiel wriggled a hand between them, index and middle fingerwalking up Dean's spine.
"I am aware," was his simple reply, and then he leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against Dean's ear before burying his face between the hunter's shoulder blades.
Castiel didn't sleep. Dean dreamt of pie.
~*~*~*~
It was something subtle that set it off, in the end. It was during the Fourth of July, and Sam and Bobby and Dean and Cas were all gathered around a little setup that had been constructed in the middle of Bobby's scrap yard. Sam was lighting up a string of firecrackers under Bobby's supervision, and Dean was leaning against the hood of the Impala, watching from a distance. Castiel had been rummaging through the giant pile of fireworks the brothers had set off to the side, and eventually came sidling up to Dean with one in tow, a curious expression on his face.
"This one doesn't seem to have a fuse," he stated, peering at the little metal stick with something akin to insult.
Dean snorted into his beer bottle, shook his head.
"It's a sparkler, Cas. You light the top, and you hold it while it sets off."
Oh yeah. Cas was definitely giving him the 'You've Just Grown Three Heads And Now You're Speaking In Latin' look.
"Here," he held out his hand. "Lemme show you."
Castiel handed off the stick somewhat reluctantly, and watched, fascinated, as Dean pulled a lighter out of his back pocket and set the flame to the end of the firework. It lit up, sparked like a small combustion, and Cas jolted back in surprise. He blinked several times, ignorant to Dean's laughter, and warily edged closer to the strange phenomenon, peering at the sparking light, to Dean, and back to the sparking light.
(3/3) *coughs* Dean/Castiel, "I love you"devilsduplicityMay 30 2010, 14:06:40 UTC
"Here, take it," Dean said, pressing the firework closer. Cas flinched back.
The moment pinpointed to a single beat of time, then; like a clock tick-tocking away until the second-hand struck the top, and the hour went careening into the unknown.
Dean pulled the stick back, watched as it fizzed out, then gave a little shrug.
"Don't know why you're so afraid," he said. "It reminds me of you -- the first time we met. Remember?" His grin was wide, nostalgic. "The floodlights didn't agree with you."
"You stabbed me in the chest," Castiel pointed out.
"Yeah, well, you had this look of imminent rape on your face. I was justified."
Cas blinked, and Dean waved him off.
"Go get another one."
He did as told, blinking out of existence only to come striding back with another sparkler in tow. This time, Dean made him hold it; wrapped one hand around Castiel's for support, then flickered the flame across the top and pulled away when the sparks went flying. The angel was still a little stunned at first -- not necessarily afraid, but rather intrigued -- but eventually relaxed his stance, crazy blue eyes fluttering all across each and every flare of too-bright light until the sparkler sputtered out of existence.
"These are my favorite," Castiel said with a solemn tone, as if passing God's divine judgment onto a trifle such as this.
You're my favorite, Dean thought, and then beat down his own schmoopy mind with the Winchesterian Manly Stick passed down to him by his father.
To offset the sudden swell of estrogen invading his system, Dean took a deep draw of his beer, downing the rest of it in one go, then shuddered at the deliciously warm feeling that covered him from head to toe.
"I love you," he said, grinning.
"I love you too," replied the angel, as if he were merely stating a fact.
It wasn't until Dean set down his empty bottle and reached for another one that the sudden impossibility of his words struck him like a sucker punch to the stomach.
"I--" he blinked, swallowed, tried very hard to breathe through the lump in his throat. "I didn't mean--" Didn't mean? Oh, great. Now he sounded like a dick. "What I meant to say, was--"
Castiel's smile threw him off balance. It wasn't wide or intrusive -- hell, it was barely even there -- but it lit up his face, softened his features, until the thought of taking back that word, of negating what he'd said, made Dean feel sick to his stomach.
"I'm glad you said it out loud."
Dean blinked, speechless, and leaned further into the Impala as Cas stepped closer.
"Your soul has been screaming it at me for months now."
The angel leaned forward as Dean leaned back, their bodies untouching, but the reverberation of the air buzzed like something alive around the both of them. They shared each other's space, breathed each other's air, and the slow, thrumming ache of Castiel simply hanging, suspended, so close to him made Dean's knees feel shamefully shaky. He couldn't trust his legs to keep him up, and so laid his palms flat on the hood of the car.
Castiel paused, his mouth a centimeter away from Dean's own.
"It was starting to get obtrusive."
Dean gave a little laugh, all nervous energy, and when Cas leaned in, when their lips brushed in the sweetest of motions, all light and airy and soft, he couldn't help but let that laugh bubble between them; sunlight, like drops of rain, pouring out of his soul in a manner unlike anything Dean had ever felt before.
And then a bottle rocket hit him in the leg.
He jerked back, gasped, danced on one foot, then rounded towards the sound of his brother laughing his ass off in the distance. Sam's back was turned, and he was catapulting himself over spare parts, lighter and a pack of bottle rockets in hand.
"Yeah, you better run!" Dean yelled after him, then decided now was a perfectly good time to teach Castiel how to properly utilize an entire pack of fireworks.
Later, Sam found out that when you challenge an angel to a bottle rocket war, the angel always wins.
Re: (3/3) *coughs* Dean/Castiel, "I love you"ginfairyMay 30 2010, 14:49:27 UTC
"Yeah, well, you had this look of imminent rape on your face. I was justified."
1. It's a good job I work from home. 2. It's a good job I didn't read that line while in the middle of asking a customer if the lights on their router are on or not
because I howled out with laughter at that line. Yeah Dean, even back then love. lol
Re: (3/3) *coughs* Dean/Castiel, "I love you" - OPdevilsduplicityMay 30 2010, 21:15:24 UTC
Oh, I'm very glad you liked it! I was just about to go to sleep, too, when I read your prompt and ended up staying awake for a couple more hours. I blame you for the lack of sleep. :\
The body behind him, though already still, somehow froze even further.
"Why not?" There was no insult there, simply curiosity and confusion.
Dean closed his eyes, opened them again.
"As much as I love having you as my personal stalker, Cas, it's... kinda distracting."
There was that word again. 'Love'. But it was okay when his voice was laced with heavy sarcasm, right? It was acceptable then. Didn't matter if it might or might not be true... or not. No one needed to know that, even if the one not knowing was the only one who really knew.
... God, his head hurt.
Dean shifted, went to lay his head down, but Castiel pressed a hand to his side, slid an arm against his pillow, pushed it out of the way, and before Dean could help it, he was laying his temple against the suit jacket of said personal stalker. He sighed, deflated, thought about complaining, but eventually let his eyelids flutter shut in silent defeat.
"I'm not a woman," he said, voice smooth, no longer tight, but still pressing, still insistent.
Castiel wriggled a hand between them, index and middle fingerwalking up Dean's spine.
"I am aware," was his simple reply, and then he leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against Dean's ear before burying his face between the hunter's shoulder blades.
Castiel didn't sleep. Dean dreamt of pie.
~*~*~*~
It was something subtle that set it off, in the end. It was during the Fourth of July, and Sam and Bobby and Dean and Cas were all gathered around a little setup that had been constructed in the middle of Bobby's scrap yard. Sam was lighting up a string of firecrackers under Bobby's supervision, and Dean was leaning against the hood of the Impala, watching from a distance. Castiel had been rummaging through the giant pile of fireworks the brothers had set off to the side, and eventually came sidling up to Dean with one in tow, a curious expression on his face.
"This one doesn't seem to have a fuse," he stated, peering at the little metal stick with something akin to insult.
Dean snorted into his beer bottle, shook his head.
"It's a sparkler, Cas. You light the top, and you hold it while it sets off."
Oh yeah. Cas was definitely giving him the 'You've Just Grown Three Heads And Now You're Speaking In Latin' look.
"Here," he held out his hand. "Lemme show you."
Castiel handed off the stick somewhat reluctantly, and watched, fascinated, as Dean pulled a lighter out of his back pocket and set the flame to the end of the firework. It lit up, sparked like a small combustion, and Cas jolted back in surprise. He blinked several times, ignorant to Dean's laughter, and warily edged closer to the strange phenomenon, peering at the sparking light, to Dean, and back to the sparking light.
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The moment pinpointed to a single beat of time, then; like a clock tick-tocking away until the second-hand struck the top, and the hour went careening into the unknown.
Dean pulled the stick back, watched as it fizzed out, then gave a little shrug.
"Don't know why you're so afraid," he said. "It reminds me of you -- the first time we met. Remember?" His grin was wide, nostalgic. "The floodlights didn't agree with you."
"You stabbed me in the chest," Castiel pointed out.
"Yeah, well, you had this look of imminent rape on your face. I was justified."
Cas blinked, and Dean waved him off.
"Go get another one."
He did as told, blinking out of existence only to come striding back with another sparkler in tow. This time, Dean made him hold it; wrapped one hand around Castiel's for support, then flickered the flame across the top and pulled away when the sparks went flying. The angel was still a little stunned at first -- not necessarily afraid, but rather intrigued -- but eventually relaxed his stance, crazy blue eyes fluttering all across each and every flare of too-bright light until the sparkler sputtered out of existence.
"These are my favorite," Castiel said with a solemn tone, as if passing God's divine judgment onto a trifle such as this.
You're my favorite, Dean thought, and then beat down his own schmoopy mind with the Winchesterian Manly Stick passed down to him by his father.
To offset the sudden swell of estrogen invading his system, Dean took a deep draw of his beer, downing the rest of it in one go, then shuddered at the deliciously warm feeling that covered him from head to toe.
"I love you," he said, grinning.
"I love you too," replied the angel, as if he were merely stating a fact.
It wasn't until Dean set down his empty bottle and reached for another one that the sudden impossibility of his words struck him like a sucker punch to the stomach.
"I--" he blinked, swallowed, tried very hard to breathe through the lump in his throat. "I didn't mean--" Didn't mean? Oh, great. Now he sounded like a dick. "What I meant to say, was--"
Castiel's smile threw him off balance. It wasn't wide or intrusive -- hell, it was barely even there -- but it lit up his face, softened his features, until the thought of taking back that word, of negating what he'd said, made Dean feel sick to his stomach.
"I'm glad you said it out loud."
Dean blinked, speechless, and leaned further into the Impala as Cas stepped closer.
"Your soul has been screaming it at me for months now."
The angel leaned forward as Dean leaned back, their bodies untouching, but the reverberation of the air buzzed like something alive around the both of them. They shared each other's space, breathed each other's air, and the slow, thrumming ache of Castiel simply hanging, suspended, so close to him made Dean's knees feel shamefully shaky. He couldn't trust his legs to keep him up, and so laid his palms flat on the hood of the car.
Castiel paused, his mouth a centimeter away from Dean's own.
"It was starting to get obtrusive."
Dean gave a little laugh, all nervous energy, and when Cas leaned in, when their lips brushed in the sweetest of motions, all light and airy and soft, he couldn't help but let that laugh bubble between them; sunlight, like drops of rain, pouring out of his soul in a manner unlike anything Dean had ever felt before.
And then a bottle rocket hit him in the leg.
He jerked back, gasped, danced on one foot, then rounded towards the sound of his brother laughing his ass off in the distance. Sam's back was turned, and he was catapulting himself over spare parts, lighter and a pack of bottle rockets in hand.
"Yeah, you better run!" Dean yelled after him, then decided now was a perfectly good time to teach Castiel how to properly utilize an entire pack of fireworks.
Later, Sam found out that when you challenge an angel to a bottle rocket war, the angel always wins.
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Also, this:
"These are my favorite," Castiel said with a solemn tone, as if passing God's divine judgment onto a trifle such as this.
You're my favorite, Dean thought
I just loved, for Cas being so in-character and Dean allowing himself to be sweet for a moment.
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You win an International Schmoop Award. :D
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Oh my! I must set this on my mantle!
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1. It's a good job I work from home.
2. It's a good job I didn't read that line while in the middle of asking a customer if the lights on their router are on or not
because I howled out with laughter at that line. Yeah Dean, even back then love. lol
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♥
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