Destiel fic: March
Title: March
Author: zekephoto
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Word Count: 650
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Notes: This is quite frightening, my first post on LJ. I never intended to write anything to post here, I was only supposed to creep on all of the other lovely writers. Nonetheless, this happened. Some strange form of free form poetry mashed with confusing prose.
Summary: Castiel and Dean express their own reasons why March is their favorite month of the year. Entirely AU.
Castiel loved spring most of all.
The receding night left traces of water droplets clinging to the grass, gleaming as the sun broke over the horizon. The soft light filtering through the shutters warranted no rush in the early hours of daybreak. There was an easy peacefulness to spring, the subtle, soft light dipping in and out of broken clouds, the low hum of nature reviving itself, awakening from the cold clutches of winter.
As the sun rose higher in those first few moments of dawn, light crept into the room, broken into shards by the shutters and dancing across the sheets in a pattern; and likewise over the skin of the man lying beside him. Castiel's hands were led by the light, skimming across the vast expanse of bare, warm flesh. His fingers lingered sometimes to smooth across freckles, or old scars, and all the while his movement was traced by those vibrant green eyes; eyes which echoed spring in all their warmth, the hope of a brighter day signaled by the thawing of winter.
Castiel loved spring most of all, for these still morning moments of resting warm beneath the sheets, content in watching the light sweep over the man beside him in a languid glide, illuminating the form he had become so familiar with; a form which arched slowly, easily and without care, like lazy spring itself.
Such a contrast, Castiel thought, his eyes flicking over skin that reflected the days basking in sunlight, emitting such a warmth that seeped through his body, right to the bone.
It was an all-encompassing envelope, cradled in a caress and leaving behind evidence of its presence in the form of a curling joy within Castiel's chest. It was the whispered assurance of hope, hot against the shell of Castiel's ear. It was the unwavering trust evident when his eyes met Castiel's own.
It was spring.
And Castiel loved Spring most of all.
-x-
Dean loved winter most of all.
The creeping day revealed traces of frost crawling from the grass, shining as the sun broke over the horizon. The subtle light seeping through the shutters was content to roll in slowly during the first hours of daybreak. There was a calm stillness to the winter, the weak, diffused light tucked away under sheets of cloud, the quiet whispering of nature hidden safely from the bright harshness of spring.
As the sun rose higher in those first few moments of dawn, light crept into the room, divided by the shutters into strips of shadow, sliding across the sheets and sinking into the skin of the man lying beside him. Dean's hands followed the lines of darkness, reaching over smooth, cool skin, fingers skimming along the intricate frame of bone beneath, rubbing along sharp dips and ridges, and all the while his movement was traced by those clear blue eyes; eyes which echoed winter in all their vastness, the promise of a purer day signaled by the delay of spring.
Dean loved winter most of all, for these still morning moments resting cool beneath the sheets, content in watching the shadows slide over the man beside him in a smooth spread, a soft cloaking of the form he had become so familiar with; a form which remained still, calm and steadfast, like the unflinching winter itself.
Such a contrast, Dean thought, his eyes studying skin that mirrored the days reveling in crisp air, casting out such a pull that drew him in and coiled around his body, burrowing into his soul.
It was an all-encompassing envelope, secured in an embrace and leaving behind evidence of its presence in the form of a steady beat within Dean's chest. It was the firm affirmation of resilience cool against the shell of Dean's ear. It was the indisputable faith evident when his eyes met Dean's own.
It was winter.
And Dean loved Winter most of all.