Some Velvet Morning (Dean/Castiel)
Title:Some Velvet Morning
Rating:PG
Spoilers:Castiel exists.
Warnings:FLUFF, mentions of sex
Word count:999
Summary:Sometimes, Dean just wants the afternoon off.
Disclaimer:You're cute.
Author's Note:I like song title titles that sort of work but not completely.
It’s one of those hazy, sunny afternoons where Dean’s decided the apocalypse can wait for a few hours. They don’t have any new leads on the devil, or even a minor hunt just to pass the time (and save a few people) so Dean doesn’t see the harm in spending the afternoon in bed and persuading Cas to do the same.
The air’s thick and warm in a way that makes movement seem silly, if only for the moment. Dean’s perfectly happy just to stare wonderingly at Cas’ back, at the lazy curve of his spine from the nape of his neck down to where the sheets cover him. Angels and sleep are a bit like angels and eating or sex - possible, but not necessary. Dean likes Cas like this, he decides, lazy and warm beside him.
Sometimes he starts to wish it was actually his bed the angel was dozing in. He likes the idea too much for his comfort, the idea of him and Cas and Sam getting a little house somewhere and just - not settling down, not quite. Maybe he’s getting old, maybe he’s getting soft, maybe he’s getting sick of sleazy motels with questionable décor. He likes to think it’s the last one.
It’s getting harder and harder to remind himself that he shouldn’t get used to this, to sharing a bed with someone he knows, someone he likes. Better - or is it worse? - someone who knows him. He likes being familiar with his partner’s body, and the reverse being true as well. But there’s no way he can keep this, no way he can have something that makes him this happy with so little negative. That’s just not the way Dean Winchester’s life goes.
He shifts forward and brushes a kiss onto the top of Castiel’s spine and then down until the sheet is against his chin. Beneath him, Cas hums and turns over so Dean’s face is pressed to his stomach. Dean tilts his head up so he can see Cas’ face, content and wonderful, still basking in his afterglow. A hand comes up and rests in his hair as Dean noses along the bottom curve of the angel’s ribcage. “Hey, Cas?”
“Mm?” The hand strokes through his hair and Dean leans into it.
“When we’re - What is it that you say?”
“What?” Unless it’s just his imagination, Cas looks a little bit less relaxed.
“Before you come, you always start talking in Enochian. What do you say?”
No, Dean wasn’t imagining it; Cas is full-on uncomfortable now.
“Nothing you’ll ever want to hear in English,” he says as a decisive not-answer.
Dean kisses the soft skin of the angel’s stomach. “Try me.”
Cas hesitates and inhales deeply before cupping Dean’s face in both hands and pulling it level with his own. There’s a kiss then, but not the distraction type kiss Dean had expected. It’s deep and thorough and makes Dean melt a little bit, but it doesn’t drive the thoughts from his head, nor was it intended to.
“In you I see all the beauty and wonder of my father’s creation,” Cas says seriously and somberly while staring Dean straight in the eyes. Dean’s throat works desperately as he tries to figure out what on earth you say back to something like that, but Castiel isn’t done.
He rolls them over and murmurs into the hollow of Dean’s throat, “I existed before your planet was even an idea and you are still the most amazing thing I’ve ever encountered.” The stubble on his chin scratches pleasantly at Dean’s skin with every word.
“Cas-“ Dean chokes out, gripping his shoulders.
Cas ignores him and runs the tip of his tongue down Dean’s sternum. He presses his forehead to the bone for the next confession. “When this is over, I would give you everything if only you would let me.”
Dean doesn’t even bother trying to reply, just kneads Cas’ shoulders and tangles one hand in Cas’ hair (he loves Cas’ hair so, so much) and tries to remember how to breathe. Cas works his way, all hands and teeth and tongue, slowly down to Dean’s hipbone and confides in it, “No matter what happens, you, I will never regret.”
“Cas,” Dean groans and it sounds like he’s dying because this is just too much, he can’t handle this and he wishes he’d never asked.
Cas pulls back slightly to look at him then. There’s a wary look in his eyes like he expects Dean to shut down completely and that this will be the end of everything.
“Do - do you really manage to say all that when we’re having sex?”
Cas freezes for a second, and then he smiles, and if it’s a little bitter and self-mocking, then it’s only a little. “It doesn’t take as many words in Enochian.”
“Oh.”
“I can say it in one word in English. That and so much more.”
“Really?” If his voice comes out thin and reedy he thinks it can be forgiven.
Cas hums and rubs his nose against Dean’s stomach, “Yes.”
The hunter swallows thickly but can’t quite bring himself to ask.
“Dean.”
Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times before giving up on an actual reply. He cups Cas’ face in one hand and drags a thumb along his cheekbone. “Cas, for what it’s worth, I-“
Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own and kisses his wrist softly. “Don’t. It’s okay, I know.”
Dean opens his mouth to continue anyway so Cas kisses him and it’s every bit a distraction kiss. Cas licks the words out of Dean’s mouth and bites the idea off his bottom lip. Dean shifts until his thighs bracket Cas’ hips because he can’t get the words back, and probably wouldn’t know what to do with them if he did, but this he can do. This he can give Cas. This and so many things the angel wants but for which he will never ask.
Rating:PG
Spoilers:Castiel exists.
Warnings:FLUFF, mentions of sex
Word count:999
Summary:Sometimes, Dean just wants the afternoon off.
Disclaimer:You're cute.
Author's Note:I like song title titles that sort of work but not completely.
It’s one of those hazy, sunny afternoons where Dean’s decided the apocalypse can wait for a few hours. They don’t have any new leads on the devil, or even a minor hunt just to pass the time (and save a few people) so Dean doesn’t see the harm in spending the afternoon in bed and persuading Cas to do the same.
The air’s thick and warm in a way that makes movement seem silly, if only for the moment. Dean’s perfectly happy just to stare wonderingly at Cas’ back, at the lazy curve of his spine from the nape of his neck down to where the sheets cover him. Angels and sleep are a bit like angels and eating or sex - possible, but not necessary. Dean likes Cas like this, he decides, lazy and warm beside him.
Sometimes he starts to wish it was actually his bed the angel was dozing in. He likes the idea too much for his comfort, the idea of him and Cas and Sam getting a little house somewhere and just - not settling down, not quite. Maybe he’s getting old, maybe he’s getting soft, maybe he’s getting sick of sleazy motels with questionable décor. He likes to think it’s the last one.
It’s getting harder and harder to remind himself that he shouldn’t get used to this, to sharing a bed with someone he knows, someone he likes. Better - or is it worse? - someone who knows him. He likes being familiar with his partner’s body, and the reverse being true as well. But there’s no way he can keep this, no way he can have something that makes him this happy with so little negative. That’s just not the way Dean Winchester’s life goes.
He shifts forward and brushes a kiss onto the top of Castiel’s spine and then down until the sheet is against his chin. Beneath him, Cas hums and turns over so Dean’s face is pressed to his stomach. Dean tilts his head up so he can see Cas’ face, content and wonderful, still basking in his afterglow. A hand comes up and rests in his hair as Dean noses along the bottom curve of the angel’s ribcage. “Hey, Cas?”
“Mm?” The hand strokes through his hair and Dean leans into it.
“When we’re - What is it that you say?”
“What?” Unless it’s just his imagination, Cas looks a little bit less relaxed.
“Before you come, you always start talking in Enochian. What do you say?”
No, Dean wasn’t imagining it; Cas is full-on uncomfortable now.
“Nothing you’ll ever want to hear in English,” he says as a decisive not-answer.
Dean kisses the soft skin of the angel’s stomach. “Try me.”
Cas hesitates and inhales deeply before cupping Dean’s face in both hands and pulling it level with his own. There’s a kiss then, but not the distraction type kiss Dean had expected. It’s deep and thorough and makes Dean melt a little bit, but it doesn’t drive the thoughts from his head, nor was it intended to.
“In you I see all the beauty and wonder of my father’s creation,” Cas says seriously and somberly while staring Dean straight in the eyes. Dean’s throat works desperately as he tries to figure out what on earth you say back to something like that, but Castiel isn’t done.
He rolls them over and murmurs into the hollow of Dean’s throat, “I existed before your planet was even an idea and you are still the most amazing thing I’ve ever encountered.” The stubble on his chin scratches pleasantly at Dean’s skin with every word.
“Cas-“ Dean chokes out, gripping his shoulders.
Cas ignores him and runs the tip of his tongue down Dean’s sternum. He presses his forehead to the bone for the next confession. “When this is over, I would give you everything if only you would let me.”
Dean doesn’t even bother trying to reply, just kneads Cas’ shoulders and tangles one hand in Cas’ hair (he loves Cas’ hair so, so much) and tries to remember how to breathe. Cas works his way, all hands and teeth and tongue, slowly down to Dean’s hipbone and confides in it, “No matter what happens, you, I will never regret.”
“Cas,” Dean groans and it sounds like he’s dying because this is just too much, he can’t handle this and he wishes he’d never asked.
Cas pulls back slightly to look at him then. There’s a wary look in his eyes like he expects Dean to shut down completely and that this will be the end of everything.
“Do - do you really manage to say all that when we’re having sex?”
Cas freezes for a second, and then he smiles, and if it’s a little bitter and self-mocking, then it’s only a little. “It doesn’t take as many words in Enochian.”
“Oh.”
“I can say it in one word in English. That and so much more.”
“Really?” If his voice comes out thin and reedy he thinks it can be forgiven.
Cas hums and rubs his nose against Dean’s stomach, “Yes.”
The hunter swallows thickly but can’t quite bring himself to ask.
“Dean.”
Dean opens and closes his mouth a few times before giving up on an actual reply. He cups Cas’ face in one hand and drags a thumb along his cheekbone. “Cas, for what it’s worth, I-“
Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own and kisses his wrist softly. “Don’t. It’s okay, I know.”
Dean opens his mouth to continue anyway so Cas kisses him and it’s every bit a distraction kiss. Cas licks the words out of Dean’s mouth and bites the idea off his bottom lip. Dean shifts until his thighs bracket Cas’ hips because he can’t get the words back, and probably wouldn’t know what to do with them if he did, but this he can do. This he can give Cas. This and so many things the angel wants but for which he will never ask.