Ficlet - Laughter Lines
Title: Laughter Lines
Author: tooearlyforthis
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: G
Word Count: 1k
Summary: One day, a giant angel oak tree appeared in Dean and Castiel's town. No one knows where it came from, so everyone pretends to know. Everyone but Castiel, that is.
Notes: anon prompted: one of my favourite songs at the moment is laughter lines by bastille, and i was wondering if you could write something based off that?
Crossposted from: Tumblr
If you asked anyone in Dean's town, they would say that the tree had been there for as long as they could remember.
The truth was, that was easier to believe than a giant Angel Oak tree suddenly appearing one day.
"It must've been here all along," they all said, baffled. "We must'a missed it somehow."
However, Castiel was not so convinced. He and Dean spent many walks to and from school discussing the tree and debating how it came into existence. Dean liked to believe that the tree belonged in another dimension, and that somehow that dimension shifted and collided with theirs, while Cas was adamant that it was his tree.
"I've done the research and the mathematics, and that tree appeared the day I was conceived," he would protest as he had a hundred times before, more astute than any nine-year-old Dean knew.
Dean would laugh, and shoot back his usual retort. "So, what, your parents had sex so hard that they made you and a tree?"
But Dean didn't argue with him when they walked past the tree on Cas's tenth birthday.
Only it wasn't a tree anymore. It was a stump.
Tears sprung to Cas's blue eyes, and he clumsily ran through the long grass to the stump, tripping on forgotten branches and shed bark.
"Cas! Cas, wait up!" Dean called, running after his best friend. The grass lashed out at his ankles and his calves, still in mourning for its neighbour, but he was more concerned about how Cas would take the loss.
Of all the days they could cut down Cas's tree, they chose his birthday. Not even the homemade card Dean made could make this better.
The breeze swept the field, cool enough for the leftover leaves to shiver in the grass, and strong enough for some to join it. A whorl of leaves whipped around Castiel and threatened to take him to Oz, so Dean anchored his ashen-faced best friend by throwing an arm around his shoulder.
"If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?" asked Cas brokenly through the forbidden sob in his throat, the wind nearly stealing his words.
It must be important if the wind wants it, thought Dean. He nodded, sucked in his lips, and tucked his head in the hollow of Cas's shoulder. Dean did the same thing with his mom too, when her and dad had a fight, and because Dean did it, Sam did it too, and it was always enough for mom to put aside the kleenex. He hoped it would be enough for Cas too.
Cas ran his fingers around the tree's history, thoughtful, and with a downturn to his mouth murmured, "I think...I think that once, I was an angel."
He looked sharply at Dean, red-eyed and daring him to snicker or to call him crazy or to say at least something, but Dean only looked back curiously.
"I think maybe one day, I ripped the angel out of me, and I fell to Earth to be reborn as a human. And this...this tree held the angel that I threw down."
Dean let his hands trace the rings too, thinking nothing of it when his fingers brushed Cas's again and again and again. When they brushed one more time, their fingers interlocked, and Cas circled their hands as though they were playing the glass harp.
"My parents tell me often how I'm their miracle child; how they prayed and prayed and how God heard them and sent me. I rather think I chose to be sent to Earth."
Tears dewed on Cas's lashes, and Dean peered around to catch them on his fingertips. He dotted them right in the middle of the stump, in the innermost ring, the tiny droplets darkening the wood.
"The tree was yours, and they took it," Dean said firmly. With pomp, he continued, "So with these tears, I anoint this stump Castiel Novak's."
Dean bit his lip and knighted the stump with the side of the hand that wasn't holding Cas's, and Cas's appreciation lit up his eyes.
School went forgotten, and they spent the rest of the day laying around the stump and its gnarly roots, balancing along with their sure feet and claiming the wood with their grass-stained asses.
*
Eight years later
"Do you think we'll ever come back here after college?"
Their heads were nestled in the dip of the roots, their feet at polar opposites. Leaves from trees far away flocked to Cas in the breeze, skirting over his body and hiding in his hair. Absent-mindedly, Dean found a few and pulled them out, ruffling the rest out of their hiding places.
"To the stump?" Cas asked.
Dean nodded.
"Absolutely," Cas nodded back, "this is my favourite place on Earth."
The only sounds for a few minutes were that of the grass whispering to each other, and the wind's sigh as it missed weaving in and out of its playground of crooked branches.
"It's a part of you," added Dean with no trace of sarcasm. They were older now, adults, but they didn't look back on their childhood beliefs with embarrassment.
Although, it was a little embarrassing that Dean still thought of his best friend as an angel.
Cas raised an arm in the air, and let it balance on its own. He did that sometimes, and Dean thought that maybe he was emulating the old tree's trunk with it, and the branches with his fingers. It was cute.
Of its own accord, Dean's arm stuck itself up too, and snaked around Cas's makeshift tree like crawling ivy. Their fingers interlocked, just as they had when they traced rings on the stump, but this time more purposely.
"I'm real glad you liked Kansas enough to fall here, Cas," Dean said quietly.
He didn't know how important his words were until the wind carried them away from their recipient.
"Hmm?" Cas lazily stroked Dean's palm and wrist while he waited for Dean to repeat his mumbled sentence, and only looked mildly surprised when Dean's upside-down face hovered over his.
"I said, I'm real glad you liked Kansas enough to fall here."
Their hands were still mapping each other's, even now Dean was sitting up, and Cas's other hand rose to trace the changes in his features. Fingers traced the lines at the edges of Dean's eyes - the faint ones that only deepened when he laughed - and ghosted the contours that adolescence had chiseled from baby fat.
"I rather think that I heard of your birth, and fell for you," replied Cas, a small smile adorning his full lips.
Dean's mouth wanted to do something, but words kept tripping over his tongue, and every time they tried to get back up they faltered on shaky legs. Hoping his lips weren't as clumsy as his tongue, Dean lowered his mouth over Cas's Spider-Man style, and hoped another hope that Cas would give it something to do.
And Castiel did.
Author: tooearlyforthis
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: G
Word Count: 1k
Summary: One day, a giant angel oak tree appeared in Dean and Castiel's town. No one knows where it came from, so everyone pretends to know. Everyone but Castiel, that is.
Notes: anon prompted: one of my favourite songs at the moment is laughter lines by bastille, and i was wondering if you could write something based off that?
Crossposted from: Tumblr
If you asked anyone in Dean's town, they would say that the tree had been there for as long as they could remember.
The truth was, that was easier to believe than a giant Angel Oak tree suddenly appearing one day.
"It must've been here all along," they all said, baffled. "We must'a missed it somehow."
However, Castiel was not so convinced. He and Dean spent many walks to and from school discussing the tree and debating how it came into existence. Dean liked to believe that the tree belonged in another dimension, and that somehow that dimension shifted and collided with theirs, while Cas was adamant that it was his tree.
"I've done the research and the mathematics, and that tree appeared the day I was conceived," he would protest as he had a hundred times before, more astute than any nine-year-old Dean knew.
Dean would laugh, and shoot back his usual retort. "So, what, your parents had sex so hard that they made you and a tree?"
But Dean didn't argue with him when they walked past the tree on Cas's tenth birthday.
Only it wasn't a tree anymore. It was a stump.
Tears sprung to Cas's blue eyes, and he clumsily ran through the long grass to the stump, tripping on forgotten branches and shed bark.
"Cas! Cas, wait up!" Dean called, running after his best friend. The grass lashed out at his ankles and his calves, still in mourning for its neighbour, but he was more concerned about how Cas would take the loss.
Of all the days they could cut down Cas's tree, they chose his birthday. Not even the homemade card Dean made could make this better.
The breeze swept the field, cool enough for the leftover leaves to shiver in the grass, and strong enough for some to join it. A whorl of leaves whipped around Castiel and threatened to take him to Oz, so Dean anchored his ashen-faced best friend by throwing an arm around his shoulder.
"If I tell you something, will you promise not to laugh?" asked Cas brokenly through the forbidden sob in his throat, the wind nearly stealing his words.
It must be important if the wind wants it, thought Dean. He nodded, sucked in his lips, and tucked his head in the hollow of Cas's shoulder. Dean did the same thing with his mom too, when her and dad had a fight, and because Dean did it, Sam did it too, and it was always enough for mom to put aside the kleenex. He hoped it would be enough for Cas too.
Cas ran his fingers around the tree's history, thoughtful, and with a downturn to his mouth murmured, "I think...I think that once, I was an angel."
He looked sharply at Dean, red-eyed and daring him to snicker or to call him crazy or to say at least something, but Dean only looked back curiously.
"I think maybe one day, I ripped the angel out of me, and I fell to Earth to be reborn as a human. And this...this tree held the angel that I threw down."
Dean let his hands trace the rings too, thinking nothing of it when his fingers brushed Cas's again and again and again. When they brushed one more time, their fingers interlocked, and Cas circled their hands as though they were playing the glass harp.
"My parents tell me often how I'm their miracle child; how they prayed and prayed and how God heard them and sent me. I rather think I chose to be sent to Earth."
Tears dewed on Cas's lashes, and Dean peered around to catch them on his fingertips. He dotted them right in the middle of the stump, in the innermost ring, the tiny droplets darkening the wood.
"The tree was yours, and they took it," Dean said firmly. With pomp, he continued, "So with these tears, I anoint this stump Castiel Novak's."
Dean bit his lip and knighted the stump with the side of the hand that wasn't holding Cas's, and Cas's appreciation lit up his eyes.
School went forgotten, and they spent the rest of the day laying around the stump and its gnarly roots, balancing along with their sure feet and claiming the wood with their grass-stained asses.
*
Eight years later
"Do you think we'll ever come back here after college?"
Their heads were nestled in the dip of the roots, their feet at polar opposites. Leaves from trees far away flocked to Cas in the breeze, skirting over his body and hiding in his hair. Absent-mindedly, Dean found a few and pulled them out, ruffling the rest out of their hiding places.
"To the stump?" Cas asked.
Dean nodded.
"Absolutely," Cas nodded back, "this is my favourite place on Earth."
The only sounds for a few minutes were that of the grass whispering to each other, and the wind's sigh as it missed weaving in and out of its playground of crooked branches.
"It's a part of you," added Dean with no trace of sarcasm. They were older now, adults, but they didn't look back on their childhood beliefs with embarrassment.
Although, it was a little embarrassing that Dean still thought of his best friend as an angel.
Cas raised an arm in the air, and let it balance on its own. He did that sometimes, and Dean thought that maybe he was emulating the old tree's trunk with it, and the branches with his fingers. It was cute.
Of its own accord, Dean's arm stuck itself up too, and snaked around Cas's makeshift tree like crawling ivy. Their fingers interlocked, just as they had when they traced rings on the stump, but this time more purposely.
"I'm real glad you liked Kansas enough to fall here, Cas," Dean said quietly.
He didn't know how important his words were until the wind carried them away from their recipient.
"Hmm?" Cas lazily stroked Dean's palm and wrist while he waited for Dean to repeat his mumbled sentence, and only looked mildly surprised when Dean's upside-down face hovered over his.
"I said, I'm real glad you liked Kansas enough to fall here."
Their hands were still mapping each other's, even now Dean was sitting up, and Cas's other hand rose to trace the changes in his features. Fingers traced the lines at the edges of Dean's eyes - the faint ones that only deepened when he laughed - and ghosted the contours that adolescence had chiseled from baby fat.
"I rather think that I heard of your birth, and fell for you," replied Cas, a small smile adorning his full lips.
Dean's mouth wanted to do something, but words kept tripping over his tongue, and every time they tried to get back up they faltered on shaky legs. Hoping his lips weren't as clumsy as his tongue, Dean lowered his mouth over Cas's Spider-Man style, and hoped another hope that Cas would give it something to do.
And Castiel did.