Fic: Supernatural; No Words; G
Title: No Words
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13 (for language?)
Word Count: 1152
Warnings: Swearing, slash
Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester , Castiel, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: All of Season 4, for good measure
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and I'm not getting any money from this.
Author's Note: Written for the Dean/Castiel kink meme. Prompt: Castiel describes heaven to Dean.
Summary: Dean and Castiel are trapped in a barn and surrounded by demons with no way out. Dean asks Castiel what heaven is like.
It’s a fucking barn. He’s going to die in a fucking barn, surrounded and slaughtered like an animal.
Somewhere out there, though, Sam’s still running, still kicking, and that’s all that’s keeping Dean from putting a freaking bullet in his brain because if they’re here chasing after him and battering their way through his devil’s traps and seals of Solomon, then Sam’s got just that many fewer running after him.
It’s the end of the world, do not pass go, lights out, ding dong the witch is damn well dead and buried. No doubt some obese chick with wings is singing hallelujah harmonies in some celestial choir while the human race breathes its last.
And he and Castiel are stuck in a barn - no escape routes, no weapons left - leaning their backs against the rough wood of the walls and waiting out the legion of demons that are surrounding them. Heaven’s not really interested in helping them out and, from the way the walls are beginning to shake, the big guns are already out front.
He wishes he hadn’t lost his shotgun.
“What’s it like?” he asks, seconds later, without even really having followed where his train of thought was leading him.
“What is what like?” the angel responds, looking over at him. There’s a furrow on his forehead that Dean takes to mean that Castiel hates this situation just as much as he is.
“Heaven, paradise, up there… what’s it like?”
“It is paradise,” Castiel replies, like he doesn’t really know what Dean’s asking.
“Yeah, but is it really worth all the hype? Is it that brilliant? Is there Zeppelin? Will I like it?” he pauses for a second, thinking. “Or does Lucifer own my soul now. When I die do I get dragged back down?”
“No… you will not return to hell,” Castiel assures him. “After all you have done… But we will not die here.” Dean almost laughs, he comes as close as he possibly can - given the situation. He’s begun to get used to Castiel’s sense of humour, but he still can’t quite tell the difference between joke and statement of fact.
“So, then… what’s it like? What’s the matter: is the first rule of heaven that you can’t talk about heaven?”
“No,” Castiel says, as the shaking increases. “It is… difficult to explain.”
“Try - I’d like to know what I’m getting into. Give me the tourist spiel.”
“Peace, it is peace, and total contentment. There is no way to describe it to you because nothing like it exists here on earth. No worry, no pain, no doubt - just eternal…”
“bliss?”
“Joy… love… peace…”
“So no Zeppelin?” Dean asks, with a sigh, “no sex, no busty asian beauties… no pie?”
“There is no need of food, no need of anything. It is perfect.” Castiel sounds a little exasperated, like Dean just doesn’t get it. Which is true, because he doesn’t. He can’t see perfection without pie, it does not work in his head. No trashy films, no hot chick on the shopping channel or shabby bar where they serve the best beer and play all the decent music.
“Doesn’t sound perfect to me,” he says, “guess everyone’s got a different idea of paradise, and sitting around on some cloud all day playing a harp and polishing my halo - that ain’t mine.” Castiel smiles, as much as he ever does, before his face pulls back into concentration again. The demons are still shouting outside, and the light above them is beginning to flicker something terrible, but that’s not what he’s thinking about.
“You misunderstand me,” he says. “There are no words… I cannot explain.” He turns round, moving over until he’s kneeling in front of where Dean’s crouched against the wall, staring at him intently.
“What?” Dean asks, feeling the ground shake beneath them. He’s about to ask again when Castiel’s suddenly moving closer, so fast that Dean barely even registers the movement until their lips are together and there’s a sudden warmth flooding him.
Everything falls away in that moment, the demons and the barn and the worry about whether Sam and Bobby got away safe. Everything’s gone except for the warmth, and the feeling of just being able to catch his breath, his heart skipping a beat. He feels light, all at once, like every weight in the world has been lifted off him, and there is light, everywhere, but not so harsh it hurts his eyes. It’s perfect happiness, so intense that it makes him want to cry, but soft and gentle, like his memories of his mother tucking him into bed at night. It’s every time he’s ever hugged his brother, and every time he ever saw his dad smile. It’s the first time he drove the Impala down an empty road with the acceleration pedal on the floor and Zeppelin blaring in his ears. It’s Cassie and Carmen and every other girl he’s ever given a bit of his heart to, and every girl he’s ever smiled at over a pint or a burger. It’s every slice of pie he’s ever eaten.
It’s perfect.
Castiel draws back, still as serious and intent as ever, leaving Dean adjusting to the dark once more, his mouth open like a goldfish, struggling to find words to describe just how right that felt.
“That…” the angel says solemnly, “is as close as I can get to showing you.”
Dean wants to say something - sign me up, perhaps, or just a plain simple thank you, or maybe do that again. But instead he notices that the banging has stopped, the ground is no longer shaking and the light above them is steady and sure.
“What happened to the demons?” he asks.
“They are gone…” Castiel replies, cocking his head to one side, as though he’s listening for them. Maybe he is.
“That can’t be a good sign,” Dean says, standing up, and trying to forget the fact that he just had the best damn kiss of his life from an angel… and a guy.
“I think they must have been distracted.”
“By what?” Castiel looks at him, and Dean looks back, and both of them are thinking the same thing. He can see it etched into the angel’s features as clear as day - and when did he get so good at translating Castiel to English?
“Sam,” they say together, and Dean’s running before the name’s even out of their mouths, towards the door, because the idiot was supposed to be getting the hell out of dodge, not causing a big enough problem that he got the attention of every demon in a hundred mile radius. It’s not like he’s got the superpower mojo any more.
There’ll be plenty of time to sit down and have a heart to heart with an angel later. It’s time to go and save his kid brother’s ass from an army of demons... again.
-
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13 (for language?)
Word Count: 1152
Warnings: Swearing, slash
Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester , Castiel, Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: All of Season 4, for good measure
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and I'm not getting any money from this.
Author's Note: Written for the Dean/Castiel kink meme. Prompt: Castiel describes heaven to Dean.
Summary: Dean and Castiel are trapped in a barn and surrounded by demons with no way out. Dean asks Castiel what heaven is like.
It’s a fucking barn. He’s going to die in a fucking barn, surrounded and slaughtered like an animal.
Somewhere out there, though, Sam’s still running, still kicking, and that’s all that’s keeping Dean from putting a freaking bullet in his brain because if they’re here chasing after him and battering their way through his devil’s traps and seals of Solomon, then Sam’s got just that many fewer running after him.
It’s the end of the world, do not pass go, lights out, ding dong the witch is damn well dead and buried. No doubt some obese chick with wings is singing hallelujah harmonies in some celestial choir while the human race breathes its last.
And he and Castiel are stuck in a barn - no escape routes, no weapons left - leaning their backs against the rough wood of the walls and waiting out the legion of demons that are surrounding them. Heaven’s not really interested in helping them out and, from the way the walls are beginning to shake, the big guns are already out front.
He wishes he hadn’t lost his shotgun.
“What’s it like?” he asks, seconds later, without even really having followed where his train of thought was leading him.
“What is what like?” the angel responds, looking over at him. There’s a furrow on his forehead that Dean takes to mean that Castiel hates this situation just as much as he is.
“Heaven, paradise, up there… what’s it like?”
“It is paradise,” Castiel replies, like he doesn’t really know what Dean’s asking.
“Yeah, but is it really worth all the hype? Is it that brilliant? Is there Zeppelin? Will I like it?” he pauses for a second, thinking. “Or does Lucifer own my soul now. When I die do I get dragged back down?”
“No… you will not return to hell,” Castiel assures him. “After all you have done… But we will not die here.” Dean almost laughs, he comes as close as he possibly can - given the situation. He’s begun to get used to Castiel’s sense of humour, but he still can’t quite tell the difference between joke and statement of fact.
“So, then… what’s it like? What’s the matter: is the first rule of heaven that you can’t talk about heaven?”
“No,” Castiel says, as the shaking increases. “It is… difficult to explain.”
“Try - I’d like to know what I’m getting into. Give me the tourist spiel.”
“Peace, it is peace, and total contentment. There is no way to describe it to you because nothing like it exists here on earth. No worry, no pain, no doubt - just eternal…”
“bliss?”
“Joy… love… peace…”
“So no Zeppelin?” Dean asks, with a sigh, “no sex, no busty asian beauties… no pie?”
“There is no need of food, no need of anything. It is perfect.” Castiel sounds a little exasperated, like Dean just doesn’t get it. Which is true, because he doesn’t. He can’t see perfection without pie, it does not work in his head. No trashy films, no hot chick on the shopping channel or shabby bar where they serve the best beer and play all the decent music.
“Doesn’t sound perfect to me,” he says, “guess everyone’s got a different idea of paradise, and sitting around on some cloud all day playing a harp and polishing my halo - that ain’t mine.” Castiel smiles, as much as he ever does, before his face pulls back into concentration again. The demons are still shouting outside, and the light above them is beginning to flicker something terrible, but that’s not what he’s thinking about.
“You misunderstand me,” he says. “There are no words… I cannot explain.” He turns round, moving over until he’s kneeling in front of where Dean’s crouched against the wall, staring at him intently.
“What?” Dean asks, feeling the ground shake beneath them. He’s about to ask again when Castiel’s suddenly moving closer, so fast that Dean barely even registers the movement until their lips are together and there’s a sudden warmth flooding him.
Everything falls away in that moment, the demons and the barn and the worry about whether Sam and Bobby got away safe. Everything’s gone except for the warmth, and the feeling of just being able to catch his breath, his heart skipping a beat. He feels light, all at once, like every weight in the world has been lifted off him, and there is light, everywhere, but not so harsh it hurts his eyes. It’s perfect happiness, so intense that it makes him want to cry, but soft and gentle, like his memories of his mother tucking him into bed at night. It’s every time he’s ever hugged his brother, and every time he ever saw his dad smile. It’s the first time he drove the Impala down an empty road with the acceleration pedal on the floor and Zeppelin blaring in his ears. It’s Cassie and Carmen and every other girl he’s ever given a bit of his heart to, and every girl he’s ever smiled at over a pint or a burger. It’s every slice of pie he’s ever eaten.
It’s perfect.
Castiel draws back, still as serious and intent as ever, leaving Dean adjusting to the dark once more, his mouth open like a goldfish, struggling to find words to describe just how right that felt.
“That…” the angel says solemnly, “is as close as I can get to showing you.”
Dean wants to say something - sign me up, perhaps, or just a plain simple thank you, or maybe do that again. But instead he notices that the banging has stopped, the ground is no longer shaking and the light above them is steady and sure.
“What happened to the demons?” he asks.
“They are gone…” Castiel replies, cocking his head to one side, as though he’s listening for them. Maybe he is.
“That can’t be a good sign,” Dean says, standing up, and trying to forget the fact that he just had the best damn kiss of his life from an angel… and a guy.
“I think they must have been distracted.”
“By what?” Castiel looks at him, and Dean looks back, and both of them are thinking the same thing. He can see it etched into the angel’s features as clear as day - and when did he get so good at translating Castiel to English?
“Sam,” they say together, and Dean’s running before the name’s even out of their mouths, towards the door, because the idiot was supposed to be getting the hell out of dodge, not causing a big enough problem that he got the attention of every demon in a hundred mile radius. It’s not like he’s got the superpower mojo any more.
There’ll be plenty of time to sit down and have a heart to heart with an angel later. It’s time to go and save his kid brother’s ass from an army of demons... again.
-