spn drabble: whenever, wherever
I am bleary-eyed sleepy, and coming down with something. I smell of other peoples' cats, and so mine is shaming me with his eyes. I wrote this on the plane home from Hivecon. It is dedicated to the hive for generously putting up with the running joke (no, not that one), and also to 22by7 because I'm pretty sure this entire train of thought originates from her. Here, my beloveds, have the scraps of my mind.
This little story expresses my deepest and true feelings about Dean/Castiel.
Whenever, wherever
pg-13
dean/cas if you like
no spoilers
Castiel begins to dream of possessions both possible and impossible. Unconscious, he slips out from between Jimmy's bones and finds the vessels he's never had.
Once he is a dandelion, robust with spring. The seeds of him have puffed their tails into parachutes, and they strain to catch the wind. The air pulls at his cypselas and it aches, it arches him, his stem, to bend in tandem with a field of grasses.
The dream moves and he sees himself from above. One cotton ball top among a mass of plant life. Wildflowers in purple and white, rushes, sedges, and other dandelions, a billowing carpet of them.
From this vantage point he sees Dean walking through the field. His boots crush across the grass to Castiel. Reaching him, Dean flops right down onto his stomach. He takes Cas in hand. Suddenly, forcefully, Cas feels the impact of a strong, steady breath. Every part of him shudders.
His seeds, his seeds are ripped from him. Ripped wonderfully on Dean's breath. Ripped like relief, like a blanket flung off in the dark of a hot night, like the wheels of an airplane leaving the ground, ripped like meat from the bone, like a sigh. And the seeds drift away from him, and are no longer a part of him, and Cas cannot feel them, not even distantly.
He is left so bare. Naked enough to feel Dean breathing, even and steady now, still holding his stem.
---------------------
"Okay, that is a seriously messed up dream."
"In the one that came right after, I was a bottle of milk."
"You were milk."
"And the bottle."
"Of course you were. Naturally."
"You were parched. At first."
"Do not say one more word."
"And refreshingly experimental."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Three nights ago, I was a tiger."
"Go, just go. Go back to sleep. ...Christ. Christ."
~*~*~FIN~*~*~
For reference.
And, for the record, dafnap suggested that he occupy a credenza. Just putting that out there.
This little story expresses my deepest and true feelings about Dean/Castiel.
Whenever, wherever
pg-13
dean/cas if you like
no spoilers
Castiel begins to dream of possessions both possible and impossible. Unconscious, he slips out from between Jimmy's bones and finds the vessels he's never had.
Once he is a dandelion, robust with spring. The seeds of him have puffed their tails into parachutes, and they strain to catch the wind. The air pulls at his cypselas and it aches, it arches him, his stem, to bend in tandem with a field of grasses.
The dream moves and he sees himself from above. One cotton ball top among a mass of plant life. Wildflowers in purple and white, rushes, sedges, and other dandelions, a billowing carpet of them.
From this vantage point he sees Dean walking through the field. His boots crush across the grass to Castiel. Reaching him, Dean flops right down onto his stomach. He takes Cas in hand. Suddenly, forcefully, Cas feels the impact of a strong, steady breath. Every part of him shudders.
His seeds, his seeds are ripped from him. Ripped wonderfully on Dean's breath. Ripped like relief, like a blanket flung off in the dark of a hot night, like the wheels of an airplane leaving the ground, ripped like meat from the bone, like a sigh. And the seeds drift away from him, and are no longer a part of him, and Cas cannot feel them, not even distantly.
He is left so bare. Naked enough to feel Dean breathing, even and steady now, still holding his stem.
---------------------
"Okay, that is a seriously messed up dream."
"In the one that came right after, I was a bottle of milk."
"You were milk."
"And the bottle."
"Of course you were. Naturally."
"You were parched. At first."
"Do not say one more word."
"And refreshingly experimental."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Three nights ago, I was a tiger."
"Go, just go. Go back to sleep. ...Christ. Christ."
~*~*~FIN~*~*~
For reference.
And, for the record, dafnap suggested that he occupy a credenza. Just putting that out there.