The Colours of Our Love (Dean/Castiel)
Title: The Colours of Our Love
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 900
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: excessive schmoop.
Summary: A study of Dean and Castiel's love through colour, AU.
Notes: For the prompt 'colour'.
(Read in light format | on AO3)
I. Green
Dean sits down next to Cas on the ground, a bowl in each hand. He passes one bowl to Cas, the green jello wobbling side to side.
Cas thanks him and takes it, scooping some into his mouth with a plastic spoon.
"This is my favourite flavour," Cas says, once he's had a few mouthfuls.
Dean shovels another spoonful into his mouth. "Huh? Really?"
"Green jello and cream."
Dean pauses. He considers for a moment and passes his own bowl over. Cas stares down at it, before shifting his gaze to meet Dean's face.
Dean blushes and continues to hold his bowl out.
"Have the rest."
Cas smiles at him.
II. Blue
When Cas is fifteen years old, he gets an electric guitar.
It's second (third? fourth?) hand and goes out of tune every two minutes, and neither Cas nor Dean can play anything decent. Cas manages to get some chords down, and Dean begs him to learn House of the Rising Sun and Stairway To Heaven.
Cas' renditions don't sound right, and he can't play along to the records without the guitar sounding terrible but he manages to get a few Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan and The Beatles songs memorised, and Dean makes him play whenever he comes over.
They're in Cas' bedroom one afternoon, when Cas starts to strum something that sounds, well -- good. Dean pauses the playstation and looks over at him. He watches as Cas sings his way through one verse, and then another, and Dean grins at him and claps when Cas finishes.
A warm blush spreads over Cas' cheeks and he ducks his head, putting his guitar down.
"What was that?" Dean asks.
"I, uh." Cas clears his throat. "I wrote it."
"You wrote that?" Dean asks, walking over. "Good job, man."
Cas raises his eyebrows, as if surprised Dean liked it, and then smiles.
"You should become a guitarist or something."
"Yeah?" Cas asks.
"Yeah. Start a band."
"Maybe," Cas says, still smiling. "Maybe I will."
A few months later the old, blue guitar is forgotten and buried beneath clothes in the back of Cas' wardrobe, but Cas keeps the lyrics tucked away somewhere safe.
Dean still finds himself humming that song months, years, later.
III. Red
Cas keeps a red tin box beneath his bed that houses his most prized possessions. Dean's seen it on occasion, has seen him slip photographs and old scraps of paper into it, but he's never really seen it. He's never looked through it properly, and wouldn't be able to say what the photographs are of.
One day, he asks.
They're up in Cas' room, knees knocking together as they sit cross-legged on the bed, and the red tin box is sitting on Cas' bedside table. Cas hands it to Dean, hesitantly, and there's a weight to it that has nothing to do with the items inside and everything to do with the way Cas is staring at him.
Dean takes it carefully, and places it on his lap. He slowly runs his hands over its surface before pulling the lid off and peering inside.
The first thing that catches his attention is a photograph of them. Dean and Cas are standing in the park, hair messy and sticking to their foreheads in the summer heat, arms around each other as they grin. Dean smiles and places it on the bed. The next thing he pulls out is a scrappy birthday card that Dean made him for his tenth birthday - just a folded over piece of paper, his messy scrawl on the front and some terrible doodles inside.
"You kept this?" he asks.
Cas looks embarrassed. "I keep everything that you give me."
Dean doesn't know what to say to that.
So instead he keeps looking through the box - more birthday cards, Christmas cards, the lyrics to a song Cas wrote when he was fifteen, terrible tattoo designs that they created when they were thirteen, some more photographs of them and their friends over the years.
When he gets to the bottom, Dean places everything back inside, and very carefully closes the lid. He turns to Cas, leans forward, and kisses him.
IV. Pink
Dean tears off a handful of cotton candy and holds it in front of Cas' face. Cas leans forward and licks it from Dean's fingers and Dean grins at him.
They're walking through the fairground together, shoulders brushing and hips bumping as they wind their way through the crowds. Cas tugs on Dean's leather jacket and pulls him towards the pink and gold ferris wheel, turning to grin at Dean before Dean has a chance to protest.
"No, no way," Dean says, stopping in his tracks when he figures out where Cas is going.
Cas pulls him close and leans up to press a kiss to his forehead. When he pulls back, Dean is glaring at him.
"It's perfectly safe," Cas says, slipping his fingers through Dean's.
"Are you kidding? It looks like it's about to blow over!"
"I'll hold your hand," Cas says. He presses a kiss to Dean's neck, and Dean shivers beneath his lips. "I'll kiss you at the top."
Dean's still looking unhappy when Cas pulls back but he sighs, shaking his head, and lets Cas lead him towards it.
Cas grips his hand tighter as they sit in one of the passenger cars, Dean as far to the middle as he can possibly get.
Once they hit the top, Cas kisses Dean until they're at the ground again, and Dean forgets about the fact the height was even an issue at all.
It's two years later at the same fair that Dean proposes to him, on top of that pink and gold ferris wheel, on one unsteady knee as the car sways from side to side.
Cas says yes, of course, and kisses him all the way to the ground.
---
Thanks for reading! :)
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 900
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: excessive schmoop.
Summary: A study of Dean and Castiel's love through colour, AU.
Notes: For the prompt 'colour'.
(Read in light format | on AO3)
I. Green
Dean sits down next to Cas on the ground, a bowl in each hand. He passes one bowl to Cas, the green jello wobbling side to side.
Cas thanks him and takes it, scooping some into his mouth with a plastic spoon.
"This is my favourite flavour," Cas says, once he's had a few mouthfuls.
Dean shovels another spoonful into his mouth. "Huh? Really?"
"Green jello and cream."
Dean pauses. He considers for a moment and passes his own bowl over. Cas stares down at it, before shifting his gaze to meet Dean's face.
Dean blushes and continues to hold his bowl out.
"Have the rest."
Cas smiles at him.
II. Blue
When Cas is fifteen years old, he gets an electric guitar.
It's second (third? fourth?) hand and goes out of tune every two minutes, and neither Cas nor Dean can play anything decent. Cas manages to get some chords down, and Dean begs him to learn House of the Rising Sun and Stairway To Heaven.
Cas' renditions don't sound right, and he can't play along to the records without the guitar sounding terrible but he manages to get a few Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan and The Beatles songs memorised, and Dean makes him play whenever he comes over.
They're in Cas' bedroom one afternoon, when Cas starts to strum something that sounds, well -- good. Dean pauses the playstation and looks over at him. He watches as Cas sings his way through one verse, and then another, and Dean grins at him and claps when Cas finishes.
A warm blush spreads over Cas' cheeks and he ducks his head, putting his guitar down.
"What was that?" Dean asks.
"I, uh." Cas clears his throat. "I wrote it."
"You wrote that?" Dean asks, walking over. "Good job, man."
Cas raises his eyebrows, as if surprised Dean liked it, and then smiles.
"You should become a guitarist or something."
"Yeah?" Cas asks.
"Yeah. Start a band."
"Maybe," Cas says, still smiling. "Maybe I will."
A few months later the old, blue guitar is forgotten and buried beneath clothes in the back of Cas' wardrobe, but Cas keeps the lyrics tucked away somewhere safe.
Dean still finds himself humming that song months, years, later.
III. Red
Cas keeps a red tin box beneath his bed that houses his most prized possessions. Dean's seen it on occasion, has seen him slip photographs and old scraps of paper into it, but he's never really seen it. He's never looked through it properly, and wouldn't be able to say what the photographs are of.
One day, he asks.
They're up in Cas' room, knees knocking together as they sit cross-legged on the bed, and the red tin box is sitting on Cas' bedside table. Cas hands it to Dean, hesitantly, and there's a weight to it that has nothing to do with the items inside and everything to do with the way Cas is staring at him.
Dean takes it carefully, and places it on his lap. He slowly runs his hands over its surface before pulling the lid off and peering inside.
The first thing that catches his attention is a photograph of them. Dean and Cas are standing in the park, hair messy and sticking to their foreheads in the summer heat, arms around each other as they grin. Dean smiles and places it on the bed. The next thing he pulls out is a scrappy birthday card that Dean made him for his tenth birthday - just a folded over piece of paper, his messy scrawl on the front and some terrible doodles inside.
"You kept this?" he asks.
Cas looks embarrassed. "I keep everything that you give me."
Dean doesn't know what to say to that.
So instead he keeps looking through the box - more birthday cards, Christmas cards, the lyrics to a song Cas wrote when he was fifteen, terrible tattoo designs that they created when they were thirteen, some more photographs of them and their friends over the years.
When he gets to the bottom, Dean places everything back inside, and very carefully closes the lid. He turns to Cas, leans forward, and kisses him.
IV. Pink
Dean tears off a handful of cotton candy and holds it in front of Cas' face. Cas leans forward and licks it from Dean's fingers and Dean grins at him.
They're walking through the fairground together, shoulders brushing and hips bumping as they wind their way through the crowds. Cas tugs on Dean's leather jacket and pulls him towards the pink and gold ferris wheel, turning to grin at Dean before Dean has a chance to protest.
"No, no way," Dean says, stopping in his tracks when he figures out where Cas is going.
Cas pulls him close and leans up to press a kiss to his forehead. When he pulls back, Dean is glaring at him.
"It's perfectly safe," Cas says, slipping his fingers through Dean's.
"Are you kidding? It looks like it's about to blow over!"
"I'll hold your hand," Cas says. He presses a kiss to Dean's neck, and Dean shivers beneath his lips. "I'll kiss you at the top."
Dean's still looking unhappy when Cas pulls back but he sighs, shaking his head, and lets Cas lead him towards it.
Cas grips his hand tighter as they sit in one of the passenger cars, Dean as far to the middle as he can possibly get.
Once they hit the top, Cas kisses Dean until they're at the ground again, and Dean forgets about the fact the height was even an issue at all.
It's two years later at the same fair that Dean proposes to him, on top of that pink and gold ferris wheel, on one unsteady knee as the car sways from side to side.
Cas says yes, of course, and kisses him all the way to the ground.
---
Thanks for reading! :)