The Truth (Or Pain Kiler Induced Ramblings) (Dean/Cas preslash)
Title: The Truth (Or Pain Kiler Induced Ramblings)
Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Castiel preslash
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 671
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None whatsoever, but takes place somewhere in season 5
Summary: While Dean is in agony, he has a revelation. Either that or it's the drugs..
Warnings: Doped-up Dean, mildly moping Cas, overly amused Sam
Notes: I found this on my USB key last night. I wrote it back in January in the middle of a really bad bout of backpain, hopped up on painkillers and muscle relaxants. So if it sucks, blame my doctor for giving me fantastic medication!
~*~*~*~*~*~
The pain is still there, gripping Dean’s chest and back. His breaths are shallow because of the muscle spasms and bruising on his spine. But he’s propped on his side in the motel bed, smiling like an idiot.
“Does it still hurt, Dean?” Castiel asked with his head tilted in curiosity, his brow pulled together in concern.
“Yup,” Dean almost giggled in response.
“It’s just the pills, Cas,” Sam said from the other side of the room. Or the foot of the bed. Dean’s not entirely sure anymore.
Dean didn’t question what his brother handed him after they made it back to the motel. Hell, Dean’s surprised he managed to walk from the Impala to the motel room after taking the corner of the brick wall to the center of his back. Every nerve and muscle was screaming in pain, and they weren’t stopping. Some strange cocktail of pills from Sam was welcomed.
“If my Grace was still strong...” Castiel trailed off, staring at a spot on the floor.
Dean meant to say that it was okay. “Phhffftt.” came out instead. Sam laughed as he continued to fill the hot water bottle. Castiel turned his serious eyes to Dean.
Maybe it was the drugs humming in his system, maybe it was something that Dean refused to acknowledge. But something flickered between them when their eyes met. Castiel took the hot water bottle from Sam and leaned over Dean, positioning it on the center of his back. The motel room dipped and spun slightly as warmth radiated in his back and everywhere Castiel was almost touching.
“You should try and rest.” Castiel made no attempt to move from his perch beside Dean on the bed. Sam poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to the falling angel. Dean hissed in pain as he reached out to snatch the glass.
“Yeah, you don’t need anything else to add to that buzz,” Sam shot as he sat on his own bed and turned on the television.
Dean’s blinks were getting longer as he stared up at Castiel. There was the tiniest hint of a smirk on the falling angel’s face as he tossed back the whole glass in one gulp.
Dean’s very sure now that it was the happy pill cocktail he took that’s making his brain go this way. Even with their epic staring matches, Dean’s never studied Castiel’s face like this before. How the stubble never seems to disappear or grow. The way his eyebrows are arched perfectly over those bright blue eyes. How the smallest twitch of muscle says everything Castiel is thinking, and nothing at the same time.
“Dean, your hand is on my leg,” Castiel said quietly.
“Why are we whispering?” Dean didn’t move his hand.
“You were whispering something about my eyes.”
If Dean cared, he would have blushed. At any rate, he can blame it on the drugs tomorrow morning.
“I think your eyes are beautiful too,” Castiel whispered as his hand brushed over Dean’s, still resting on his thigh.
Dean’s back took that moment to seize all the muscles. Dean’s eyes slammed shut. He tried not to whimper as the sharp pain spread from his back, through his ribs, making it near impossible to breathe. His hand clenched Castiel’s thigh as he took shallow breaths to work through the pain. What little of Dean’s brain wasn’t consumed with fighting the pain registered that Castiel was rubbing his arm gently.
Dean’s not sure how long the spasms lasted, seconds, minutes, maybe. Able to take a normal breath again, he stared up at Castiel, who was still rubbing his arm. He was about to say something, he’s not even sure what, when he yawned. It’s hard to get a good yawn in when you’re wincing in pain.
“Sleep, Dean,” Castiel whispered. Dean rested his forehead against the angel’s thigh.
“S’long as you don’t move,” Dean muttered. “The frogs like it that way.”
As Dean fell asleep, all he could hear was a rare laugh from the angel.
~*~*~*~*~
Let's just hope that by posting this, I can break through my writers block!!!
Comments like always are adored!!
tarot-cards-online.com
Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Castiel preslash
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 671
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None whatsoever, but takes place somewhere in season 5
Summary: While Dean is in agony, he has a revelation. Either that or it's the drugs..
Warnings: Doped-up Dean, mildly moping Cas, overly amused Sam
Notes: I found this on my USB key last night. I wrote it back in January in the middle of a really bad bout of backpain, hopped up on painkillers and muscle relaxants. So if it sucks, blame my doctor for giving me fantastic medication!
~*~*~*~*~*~
The pain is still there, gripping Dean’s chest and back. His breaths are shallow because of the muscle spasms and bruising on his spine. But he’s propped on his side in the motel bed, smiling like an idiot.
“Does it still hurt, Dean?” Castiel asked with his head tilted in curiosity, his brow pulled together in concern.
“Yup,” Dean almost giggled in response.
“It’s just the pills, Cas,” Sam said from the other side of the room. Or the foot of the bed. Dean’s not entirely sure anymore.
Dean didn’t question what his brother handed him after they made it back to the motel. Hell, Dean’s surprised he managed to walk from the Impala to the motel room after taking the corner of the brick wall to the center of his back. Every nerve and muscle was screaming in pain, and they weren’t stopping. Some strange cocktail of pills from Sam was welcomed.
“If my Grace was still strong...” Castiel trailed off, staring at a spot on the floor.
Dean meant to say that it was okay. “Phhffftt.” came out instead. Sam laughed as he continued to fill the hot water bottle. Castiel turned his serious eyes to Dean.
Maybe it was the drugs humming in his system, maybe it was something that Dean refused to acknowledge. But something flickered between them when their eyes met. Castiel took the hot water bottle from Sam and leaned over Dean, positioning it on the center of his back. The motel room dipped and spun slightly as warmth radiated in his back and everywhere Castiel was almost touching.
“You should try and rest.” Castiel made no attempt to move from his perch beside Dean on the bed. Sam poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to the falling angel. Dean hissed in pain as he reached out to snatch the glass.
“Yeah, you don’t need anything else to add to that buzz,” Sam shot as he sat on his own bed and turned on the television.
Dean’s blinks were getting longer as he stared up at Castiel. There was the tiniest hint of a smirk on the falling angel’s face as he tossed back the whole glass in one gulp.
Dean’s very sure now that it was the happy pill cocktail he took that’s making his brain go this way. Even with their epic staring matches, Dean’s never studied Castiel’s face like this before. How the stubble never seems to disappear or grow. The way his eyebrows are arched perfectly over those bright blue eyes. How the smallest twitch of muscle says everything Castiel is thinking, and nothing at the same time.
“Dean, your hand is on my leg,” Castiel said quietly.
“Why are we whispering?” Dean didn’t move his hand.
“You were whispering something about my eyes.”
If Dean cared, he would have blushed. At any rate, he can blame it on the drugs tomorrow morning.
“I think your eyes are beautiful too,” Castiel whispered as his hand brushed over Dean’s, still resting on his thigh.
Dean’s back took that moment to seize all the muscles. Dean’s eyes slammed shut. He tried not to whimper as the sharp pain spread from his back, through his ribs, making it near impossible to breathe. His hand clenched Castiel’s thigh as he took shallow breaths to work through the pain. What little of Dean’s brain wasn’t consumed with fighting the pain registered that Castiel was rubbing his arm gently.
Dean’s not sure how long the spasms lasted, seconds, minutes, maybe. Able to take a normal breath again, he stared up at Castiel, who was still rubbing his arm. He was about to say something, he’s not even sure what, when he yawned. It’s hard to get a good yawn in when you’re wincing in pain.
“Sleep, Dean,” Castiel whispered. Dean rested his forehead against the angel’s thigh.
“S’long as you don’t move,” Dean muttered. “The frogs like it that way.”
As Dean fell asleep, all he could hear was a rare laugh from the angel.
~*~*~*~*~
Let's just hope that by posting this, I can break through my writers block!!!
Comments like always are adored!!
tarot-cards-online.com