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31_days2012-02-05 09:51 am
metallikirk.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-02-05 09:51 am
February 5th [Supernatural] Kisses From Heaven
Title: Kisses From Heaven
Day/Theme: February 5: Snowflakes are kisses from heaven
Series: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dean waits alone, and Castiel comes for him.
Dean stood alone, gaze scanning the frozen lake that spanned before him. He sighed, breath huffing out in great gusts of heated moisture, hanging before his face momentarily before drifting away in the breeze that gambolled coldly around him. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket, yet still his fingers felt frozen to the bone. He wished momentarily for the warmth of Sam’s gloves, that he’d thought to borrow them before he went for a walk.
Castiel hadn’t been seen for a while, too busy with the war in heaven to attend Dean as much as he used to. Dean found that despite everything, despite all that he was and all his insistence that he didn’t need anyone other than his brother, Dean knew deep down that that was a lie. He needed Castiel, needed his presence by his side and in his life more than he would admit to anyone, even himself. He missed the angel with an ache that went soul-deep, heart-deep, and Dean wondered how he could bear it. It seemed, even now, he couldn’t have all that he truly wanted, and wanting Castiel seemed such a simple thing right then.
He sighed again, and scowled through the fog of his own breath as it clouded his vision again. The air around him seemed to draw in and grow colder still, settling against his cheeks in a long line of chilling ice. He thought about returning to the motel room, to warmth and the promise of getting a crappy cup of coffee. Dean knew, however, that despite the cold and the promise of heat, he wasn’t ready to return. Sam, he knew, would be asking plenty of questions, and Dean wasn’t ready to face them or to explain himself to Sam any time soon. That Sam would want answers was inevitable; Sam always did and seemed pretty insistent upon talking about feelings, despite Dean’s protestations that feelings were for girls.
Snow began to drift lazily down, slowly at first then thicker still, clinging to everything in a drowning covering of whiteness, falling against Dean’s face and melting against his skin. His breath fogged still further in front of him and he shivered, pulled himself tighter inside his jacket. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand outside in the cold much longer; he was putting himself at risk of genuine illness if he lingered still further. He turned his face to the sky, wondering where Castiel was amongst the white clouds, as snowflakes fell against his cheeks and threatened to close his eyelids shut where they hit against his eyelashes.
“Where are you, Cas?” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
“I am right beside you, Dean,” Castiel said, sounding puzzled. “I always am.”
“Jesus, Cas. Warn a guy, will ya?” Dean barked, flinching away from Castiel’s sudden arrival with an alarmed glare at the angel standing close beside him.
“I believe I just did,” Castiel remarked, habitual head tilt in full display, liquid blue eyes turned to Dean in his usual confused expression.
Dean laughed, mirthlessly, breath hanging in the gap between them. His smile was more genuine however when Castiel reached out as though to take his hand.
“Dude,” Dean warned, ready to tell Castiel that he didn’t do hand-holding.
“No one is here to see, Dean. I wish to hold your hand,” Castiel said, simply, as though that was the simplest thing in the world.
Perhaps, to Castiel, it was and Dean immediately felt guilty for denying him that, at least. He removed his hand from his pocket and wrapped his fingers around Castiel’s, surprised at the heat that emanated from the angel’s palm. He wondered if Castiel had known instinctively that Dean had needed warming up and the hunter contemplated giving the angel a cuddle.
“I would like that,” Castiel said, in response to Dean’s thoughts.
Dean didn’t even argue that time; he turned and rested his arms around Castiel’s waist, staring at the angel from mere inches away. It felt awkward to Dean, to actively cuddle Castiel, yet he had to admit that it felt nice. Castiel almost smiled, dark blue eyes warming before he reached up to brush snowflakes from Dean’s cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
“You know, some say that snowflakes are kisses from heaven,” he said, deep voice seeming to fill the world as it stood around them. “I’d like you to think of that whenever it snows. I am kissing you whenever I can’t be with you.”
“Cas, dude, that’s kinda girly, you know,” Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled at how genuine that laugh sounded.
“Does it matter?” Castiel asked, innocently.
Dean blinked at him, before he shook his head.
“I guess not,” he said. “This does remain between us, though., No way am I telling Sam this one.”
“I think Sam would think it nice, Dean,” Castiel said, firmly. “As do I.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’m the one with the hang-ups,” Dean said, with a sigh.
“Maybe. But you still have me,” Castiel said, blinking at Dean slowly.
Dean harrumphed but remained blissfully silent. Then he spoke.
“You’re gonna kiss me, right? Instead of letting the snowflakes do it for you?” he asked. “And no jokes about how heavenly the kisses are.”
“I don‘t joke, Dean,” Castiel replied, before leaning in to press his mouth gently against Dean’s.
Dean closed his eyes, and smiled into the kiss as he found that Castiel’s mouth was far warmer and more solid than any snowflake could ever be. Yet that thought of snowflake kisses remained, long after he’d returned to the motel room with Castiel, and the fact that that one small thought brought more comfort to him than he could ever have imagined. Castiel seemed to know how Dean felt without being told, however, and that knowledge shone in his eyes and every time that he stared at Dean. Dean had to smile back, wordlessly; the little snowflake kisses would be another little secret that they could keep between themselves and not share with the world.
Day/Theme: February 5: Snowflakes are kisses from heaven
Series: Supernatural
Character/Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dean waits alone, and Castiel comes for him.
Dean stood alone, gaze scanning the frozen lake that spanned before him. He sighed, breath huffing out in great gusts of heated moisture, hanging before his face momentarily before drifting away in the breeze that gambolled coldly around him. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket, yet still his fingers felt frozen to the bone. He wished momentarily for the warmth of Sam’s gloves, that he’d thought to borrow them before he went for a walk.
Castiel hadn’t been seen for a while, too busy with the war in heaven to attend Dean as much as he used to. Dean found that despite everything, despite all that he was and all his insistence that he didn’t need anyone other than his brother, Dean knew deep down that that was a lie. He needed Castiel, needed his presence by his side and in his life more than he would admit to anyone, even himself. He missed the angel with an ache that went soul-deep, heart-deep, and Dean wondered how he could bear it. It seemed, even now, he couldn’t have all that he truly wanted, and wanting Castiel seemed such a simple thing right then.
He sighed again, and scowled through the fog of his own breath as it clouded his vision again. The air around him seemed to draw in and grow colder still, settling against his cheeks in a long line of chilling ice. He thought about returning to the motel room, to warmth and the promise of getting a crappy cup of coffee. Dean knew, however, that despite the cold and the promise of heat, he wasn’t ready to return. Sam, he knew, would be asking plenty of questions, and Dean wasn’t ready to face them or to explain himself to Sam any time soon. That Sam would want answers was inevitable; Sam always did and seemed pretty insistent upon talking about feelings, despite Dean’s protestations that feelings were for girls.
Snow began to drift lazily down, slowly at first then thicker still, clinging to everything in a drowning covering of whiteness, falling against Dean’s face and melting against his skin. His breath fogged still further in front of him and he shivered, pulled himself tighter inside his jacket. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand outside in the cold much longer; he was putting himself at risk of genuine illness if he lingered still further. He turned his face to the sky, wondering where Castiel was amongst the white clouds, as snowflakes fell against his cheeks and threatened to close his eyelids shut where they hit against his eyelashes.
“Where are you, Cas?” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
“I am right beside you, Dean,” Castiel said, sounding puzzled. “I always am.”
“Jesus, Cas. Warn a guy, will ya?” Dean barked, flinching away from Castiel’s sudden arrival with an alarmed glare at the angel standing close beside him.
“I believe I just did,” Castiel remarked, habitual head tilt in full display, liquid blue eyes turned to Dean in his usual confused expression.
Dean laughed, mirthlessly, breath hanging in the gap between them. His smile was more genuine however when Castiel reached out as though to take his hand.
“Dude,” Dean warned, ready to tell Castiel that he didn’t do hand-holding.
“No one is here to see, Dean. I wish to hold your hand,” Castiel said, simply, as though that was the simplest thing in the world.
Perhaps, to Castiel, it was and Dean immediately felt guilty for denying him that, at least. He removed his hand from his pocket and wrapped his fingers around Castiel’s, surprised at the heat that emanated from the angel’s palm. He wondered if Castiel had known instinctively that Dean had needed warming up and the hunter contemplated giving the angel a cuddle.
“I would like that,” Castiel said, in response to Dean’s thoughts.
Dean didn’t even argue that time; he turned and rested his arms around Castiel’s waist, staring at the angel from mere inches away. It felt awkward to Dean, to actively cuddle Castiel, yet he had to admit that it felt nice. Castiel almost smiled, dark blue eyes warming before he reached up to brush snowflakes from Dean’s cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
“You know, some say that snowflakes are kisses from heaven,” he said, deep voice seeming to fill the world as it stood around them. “I’d like you to think of that whenever it snows. I am kissing you whenever I can’t be with you.”
“Cas, dude, that’s kinda girly, you know,” Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled at how genuine that laugh sounded.
“Does it matter?” Castiel asked, innocently.
Dean blinked at him, before he shook his head.
“I guess not,” he said. “This does remain between us, though., No way am I telling Sam this one.”
“I think Sam would think it nice, Dean,” Castiel said, firmly. “As do I.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’m the one with the hang-ups,” Dean said, with a sigh.
“Maybe. But you still have me,” Castiel said, blinking at Dean slowly.
Dean harrumphed but remained blissfully silent. Then he spoke.
“You’re gonna kiss me, right? Instead of letting the snowflakes do it for you?” he asked. “And no jokes about how heavenly the kisses are.”
“I don‘t joke, Dean,” Castiel replied, before leaning in to press his mouth gently against Dean’s.
Dean closed his eyes, and smiled into the kiss as he found that Castiel’s mouth was far warmer and more solid than any snowflake could ever be. Yet that thought of snowflake kisses remained, long after he’d returned to the motel room with Castiel, and the fact that that one small thought brought more comfort to him than he could ever have imagined. Castiel seemed to know how Dean felt without being told, however, and that knowledge shone in his eyes and every time that he stared at Dean. Dean had to smile back, wordlessly; the little snowflake kisses would be another little secret that they could keep between themselves and not share with the world.