SPN Fic: Through That to This (G)
Dec. 31st, 2009 07:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielHAPPY NEW YEAR'S!!! Here's some fic!
Through That to This
Dean/Castiel
G
1151
No spoilers. Small blink-and-you'll-miss-it allusion to 5.06, "I Believe the Children Are Our Future."
The world doesn't end, now Castiel has to choose.
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ginnith. ♥ Title inspired by Lucille Clifton's poem, "blessing the boats."
The world does not end.
Relief feels like a punch to Castiel’s gut and that’s not something he ever would have understood, not something he ever would have thought, if not for the influence of Dean Winchester on every aspect of his very long existence.
Castiel finds Dean standing alone against the side of the Impala in the mostly empty parking lot of the motel he and Sam have chosen for the night. His head is bent, hands burrowed in his pockets. Castiel watches him, Dean’s hunched shoulders unused to not bearing the weight of the world, and wants to comfort, wants to offer something other. Something more. He wonders if this will be all he gets of humanity—pain and destruction, alcohol and, he shudders, whoopee cushions—before he has to go home.
He’s not sure he knows where that is anymore. His brothers and sisters have returned to Heaven, but Castiel wants—He doesn’t want—He does not wish to be alone, but isn’t sure he can stay.
Moving toward Dean, Castiel joins him against the Impala. He barely looks up and Castiel waits for Dean to chastise him for standing too close, being too near, but Dean doesn’t say anything. They stay in silence like that, late afternoon shadows lengthening around them.
When Castiel sees movement out of the corner of his eye, he turns his head to find Dean watching him, emotions Castiel isn’t sure of flickering across his face. He wonders, not for the first time, what Dean sees when he looks at him.
What Castiel sees is Dean, tired but victorious. Alive. Battered and bruised and desperately in need of rest, but not broken. Castiel is grateful for this beyond words.
“So,” Dean says, eyes uncertain.
“So,” Castiel repeats, partly because he knows this will frustrate Dean. More and more he has found himself drawn to…pushing Dean’s buttons. The influence of the Winchesters, he supposes. Partly because he does not know what to say, how to answer what Dean isn’t quite asking. They’ve never spoken about what happens next, too afraid to tempt fate by talking about what comes after. They’ve all been living day to day, fight to fight, a larger plan in place only so long as they could survive their losses.
There’s no need for that now.
Dean rolls his eyes and looks away, eyes scanning the horizon as though he’s forgotten he no longer needs to be on the lookout for the next threat. A noise that sounds like laughter and loss escapes him before he turns back, a look of consideration on his face.
It lasts only a moment before Dean seems to come to some sort of a decision. Castiel has enough time to wonder what Dean is doing, leaning toward him as he is, when Dean’s mouth connects softly with his own.
Castiel isn’t often at a loss, but he finds himself at one here. He should not be surprised at the…surprise, he thinks. Dean often throws him off balance, demanding Castiel change his very center of gravity to accommodate him. To take in Dean’s own strange, human worldview until it is woven with his own.
It’s Castiel’s first kiss; his first real, human kiss and it staggers him. If he weren’t already leaning against the Impala, he’d worry about staying on his feet. He has seen people kiss before, seen people do…so much more. He could probably shock Dean—who prides himself in being shocking—with his knowledge. But this, this is…
All of that knowledge is just words and impressions, nothing at all comparable to the experience itself.
This close, Dean is nothing more than blurred lines and muted colors in the soft light of late afternoon. His eyes are closed and Castiel blinks, thinks perhaps he should follow suit, that kissing is done without looking, more about touch and taste than sight. Only he can’t quite bring himself to close his eyes against Dean pressed so trusting and vulnerable against him.
Dean’s lips are warm, comforting and unsettling, and Castiel wishes he knew better what to do. Wants to know if he can have everything the heart that’s become his is suddenly clamoring for in his chest. If everything present in the simple press of Dean’s lips to his own is his for the taking.
When Dean’s tongue brushes across Castiel’s lips, clearly asking for admittance, Castiel doesn’t hesitate; he opens for him, closes his eyes. Lets him in. Dean makes a sound low in the back of his throat and Castiel feels it reverberate against his mouth. It might be a sound of arousal or perhaps surprise. As though Dean thought Castiel would fight him on this when all Castiel wants to do is pull Dean closer.
He tastes human, like coffee and sugar, like salt and earth. Like hard work and fighting the good fight. Victory hard won. He tastes like Dean, whole and his, opening himself for Castiel like he belongs there, tucked between Dean and his car.
Dean pulls away and every fiber of Castiel’s being screams, Too soon. Opening his eyes, Castiel can just make out a faint blush across Dean’s cheeks, barely visible in the dimming light.
Leaning back, Dean resettles himself against the Impala, licking his lips and looking away, out into the distance toward the setting sun. He squints into the light, but doesn’t look away. As though he’s dared himself to take his fill of that brightness even though it could blind him.
Castiel’s own eyes never leave him and he wonders if this is what it feels like to fall. For the first time, he realizes it may not be so bad a thing to be grounded, to make this choice. Not that he can anymore; the choice appears to be made for him, without his knowledge or consent. But perhaps this is how these things work. If he gets this—Dean and life and living—in exchange for air and sky, all the wonders of Heaven, it would not be much of a choice anyway. Not anymore.
Leaning further back against the car, Castiel settles his weight more firmly and follows Dean’s gaze to the horizon. They watch in silence until the sun dips below what they can see of the skyline.
“You’re going to stay, right?”
Castiel looks away from the slowly purpling sky to find Dean’s gaze still elsewhere. He thinks about the apocalypse, what he’s lost and what he’s gained, about faith and belief, home and belonging. The way Dean has pressed himself inexorably into the foundation of Castiel’s very existence. He waits for Dean to look at him finally, blinking in the afterlight, before he answers. “Of course.”
There’s a moment, a fraction of a second where Dean doesn’t react at all, but when his grin stretches from ear to ear, it’s the brightest thing Castiel can see for miles.
Through That to This
Dean/Castiel
G
1151
No spoilers. Small blink-and-you'll-miss-it allusion to 5.06, "I Believe the Children Are Our Future."
The world doesn't end, now Castiel has to choose.
Many thanks to
ginnith. ♥ Title inspired by Lucille Clifton's poem, "blessing the boats."The world does not end.
Relief feels like a punch to Castiel’s gut and that’s not something he ever would have understood, not something he ever would have thought, if not for the influence of Dean Winchester on every aspect of his very long existence.
Castiel finds Dean standing alone against the side of the Impala in the mostly empty parking lot of the motel he and Sam have chosen for the night. His head is bent, hands burrowed in his pockets. Castiel watches him, Dean’s hunched shoulders unused to not bearing the weight of the world, and wants to comfort, wants to offer something other. Something more. He wonders if this will be all he gets of humanity—pain and destruction, alcohol and, he shudders, whoopee cushions—before he has to go home.
He’s not sure he knows where that is anymore. His brothers and sisters have returned to Heaven, but Castiel wants—He doesn’t want—He does not wish to be alone, but isn’t sure he can stay.
Moving toward Dean, Castiel joins him against the Impala. He barely looks up and Castiel waits for Dean to chastise him for standing too close, being too near, but Dean doesn’t say anything. They stay in silence like that, late afternoon shadows lengthening around them.
When Castiel sees movement out of the corner of his eye, he turns his head to find Dean watching him, emotions Castiel isn’t sure of flickering across his face. He wonders, not for the first time, what Dean sees when he looks at him.
What Castiel sees is Dean, tired but victorious. Alive. Battered and bruised and desperately in need of rest, but not broken. Castiel is grateful for this beyond words.
“So,” Dean says, eyes uncertain.
“So,” Castiel repeats, partly because he knows this will frustrate Dean. More and more he has found himself drawn to…pushing Dean’s buttons. The influence of the Winchesters, he supposes. Partly because he does not know what to say, how to answer what Dean isn’t quite asking. They’ve never spoken about what happens next, too afraid to tempt fate by talking about what comes after. They’ve all been living day to day, fight to fight, a larger plan in place only so long as they could survive their losses.
There’s no need for that now.
Dean rolls his eyes and looks away, eyes scanning the horizon as though he’s forgotten he no longer needs to be on the lookout for the next threat. A noise that sounds like laughter and loss escapes him before he turns back, a look of consideration on his face.
It lasts only a moment before Dean seems to come to some sort of a decision. Castiel has enough time to wonder what Dean is doing, leaning toward him as he is, when Dean’s mouth connects softly with his own.
Castiel isn’t often at a loss, but he finds himself at one here. He should not be surprised at the…surprise, he thinks. Dean often throws him off balance, demanding Castiel change his very center of gravity to accommodate him. To take in Dean’s own strange, human worldview until it is woven with his own.
It’s Castiel’s first kiss; his first real, human kiss and it staggers him. If he weren’t already leaning against the Impala, he’d worry about staying on his feet. He has seen people kiss before, seen people do…so much more. He could probably shock Dean—who prides himself in being shocking—with his knowledge. But this, this is…
All of that knowledge is just words and impressions, nothing at all comparable to the experience itself.
This close, Dean is nothing more than blurred lines and muted colors in the soft light of late afternoon. His eyes are closed and Castiel blinks, thinks perhaps he should follow suit, that kissing is done without looking, more about touch and taste than sight. Only he can’t quite bring himself to close his eyes against Dean pressed so trusting and vulnerable against him.
Dean’s lips are warm, comforting and unsettling, and Castiel wishes he knew better what to do. Wants to know if he can have everything the heart that’s become his is suddenly clamoring for in his chest. If everything present in the simple press of Dean’s lips to his own is his for the taking.
When Dean’s tongue brushes across Castiel’s lips, clearly asking for admittance, Castiel doesn’t hesitate; he opens for him, closes his eyes. Lets him in. Dean makes a sound low in the back of his throat and Castiel feels it reverberate against his mouth. It might be a sound of arousal or perhaps surprise. As though Dean thought Castiel would fight him on this when all Castiel wants to do is pull Dean closer.
He tastes human, like coffee and sugar, like salt and earth. Like hard work and fighting the good fight. Victory hard won. He tastes like Dean, whole and his, opening himself for Castiel like he belongs there, tucked between Dean and his car.
Dean pulls away and every fiber of Castiel’s being screams, Too soon. Opening his eyes, Castiel can just make out a faint blush across Dean’s cheeks, barely visible in the dimming light.
Leaning back, Dean resettles himself against the Impala, licking his lips and looking away, out into the distance toward the setting sun. He squints into the light, but doesn’t look away. As though he’s dared himself to take his fill of that brightness even though it could blind him.
Castiel’s own eyes never leave him and he wonders if this is what it feels like to fall. For the first time, he realizes it may not be so bad a thing to be grounded, to make this choice. Not that he can anymore; the choice appears to be made for him, without his knowledge or consent. But perhaps this is how these things work. If he gets this—Dean and life and living—in exchange for air and sky, all the wonders of Heaven, it would not be much of a choice anyway. Not anymore.
Leaning further back against the car, Castiel settles his weight more firmly and follows Dean’s gaze to the horizon. They watch in silence until the sun dips below what they can see of the skyline.
“You’re going to stay, right?”
Castiel looks away from the slowly purpling sky to find Dean’s gaze still elsewhere. He thinks about the apocalypse, what he’s lost and what he’s gained, about faith and belief, home and belonging. The way Dean has pressed himself inexorably into the foundation of Castiel’s very existence. He waits for Dean to look at him finally, blinking in the afterlight, before he answers. “Of course.”
There’s a moment, a fraction of a second where Dean doesn’t react at all, but when his grin stretches from ear to ear, it’s the brightest thing Castiel can see for miles.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-01 04:05 am (UTC)Also, WHOPEE CUSHIONS!! XD I feel absurdly proud for catching the reference to that episode.
Happy new year!!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-04 12:51 am (UTC)Thank you! Happy New Year to you, too! (Even if it is a bit late by now.)
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Date: 2010-01-01 04:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2010-01-04 12:59 am (UTC)Thank you. :D
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Date: 2010-01-01 07:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2010-01-01 05:27 pm (UTC)What a wonderful sentence! Thank you so much for this lovely fic.
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Date: 2010-01-06 05:44 am (UTC):D
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Date: 2010-03-21 09:24 pm (UTC)(Aaaand I'm sorry for the comment spam you're getting from me)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-22 08:24 pm (UTC)(I do not mind comment spam at all. I'm just thrilled you're enjoying what I've been able to write.)
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Date: 2010-03-25 07:19 pm (UTC)I adore this.
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