Fic: Pranayama
Title: Pranayama
Author: discreetmath
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: AU post season 5.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1250
Summary: Castiel, fallen since the apocalypse that never was, finds a new way to cope with his humanity. Dean can't help but be fascinated.
A/N: Betaed by haughtymelodic. Written for the Destiel Word Prompt Contest on Tumblr. Prompt was 'yoga.'
Disclaimer: Characters and anything else recognizable do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them.
Cas hadn't been in his room when Dean had peeked in there this morning, so he's allowing himself one cup of coffee before he heads outside to make sure the guy is staying out of trouble. His mojo is in the toilet these days, and Dean still isn't quite sure he knows his own limits. Gulping down the last of the coffee, he winces as it burns his throat, then pushes back from the table and makes his way outside. Nothing's really visible from the porch except the tiny mountains of gutted cars, but he knows Cas won't be here anyway. He walks around to the side of the house before trudging off through the scrap yard. Maybe not trudging, because it's already looking like a gorgeous day, warm and breezy. But it's not even seven a.m., so there's not exactly a spring in his step.
Anyway, he picks his way across the yard until he reaches the field on the other side, spotting the flattened-down path through the high grass and following it to the tree line. The woods are thick here, but the route is familiar, and he walks for about a quarter of a mile before reaching the spot where he knows he'll find Cas, the grass lush and the sun cutting down through gaps in the trees above. He's wondered before how Cas found this spot, if he had to go looking for it or if he instinctively knew it was here, like some remnant of his grace let him know where all of the best spots in creation might be. Either way, this is where Dean frequently finds him, communing with nature or whatever he does, when the air in Bobby's house gets too heavy.
As he approaches, he sees Cas standing about fifteen feet away, his back to Dean. An old pair of Dean's shorts cling loosely to his narrow hips, but he's barefoot and shirtless. The sight makes Dean's throat tighten, and he stays quiet, curious to see what Cas is doing. While he watches, Cas bends his knees a bit, lifting his left leg. He crosses it over his right and wraps it back around his calf. He stretches his arms out before pulling them in and crossing them, pressing the backs of his hands together. He looks fluid and graceful, doing what Dean assumes is some kind of yoga.
He shifts where he stands, a twig snapping under his foot, and when Cas twitches his head slightly to the left he knows he's been caught.
"Hey Cas," he says, almost a whisper, unwilling to break the peacefulness of the moment. "What're you doing?"
Cas says nothing for a minute, eventually uncrossing his limbs and repeating the movement on the other side.
"Garudasana," he finally says quietly. "Eagle pose."
Dean nods his head before he realizes that Cas can't see him. He just watches as he holds the pose, motionless but for the slight rise and fall of his chest. Another minute passes before he unfolds himself and returns to standing as he had been when Dean arrived.
"Tadasana," Cas says this time, his arms hanging at his sides. "Mountain pose."
He remains like that, just breathing, and Dean knows it should be boring, but he's transfixed. His breath hitches when Cas moves again after a minute, lifting his left leg behind him. He reaches back to grasp his foot, lifting it impossibly high as he stretches his other arm in front of him. Dean's eyes wander over the elegant lines of his body.
"Natarajasana," Cas murmurs. "Dancer's pose."
Castiel's breathing is deep and even, but Dean's is shallow and quick. He pretends he doesn't understand why as he watches Cas move through a series of other positions. Some appear simple, some impossible. As he moves, the sunlight stripes across his bare chest and back, and his pale skin looks radiant. For the first time since their initial meeting in that barn so long ago, Dean can see without a doubt that Cas is something more than human.
Some time later, though Dean doesn't know how long he's been standing there, Cas slowly lowers himself to a supine position.
"Savasana," he says, voice low. "Corpse pose." Dean shudders.
But Cas isn't still. He moves in barely discernible ways, stretching his legs and shifting his hips minutely. To Dean's eye it looks like squirming, though he knows Cas is doing something he doesn't really understand. It goes on for several minutes, and Dean finds himself unable to look away. Finally, Cas exhales softly and rolls onto his side, breathing quietly for a moment before pushing himself up to his feet. He closes his eyes, clenching his toes in the grass and turning his face up to the sun. He opens them then, and turns to look directly at Dean. He nods slightly, and Dean takes it as a sign that he's allowed to come closer.
He crosses the distance between them, following Cas's lead when he sits down cross-legged. The grass is warm underneath them, and he feels some weird combination of contentedness and anticipation.
"So... yoga," he begins.
"Yes," Cas says simply, not looking at him.
"You're really good at it," Dean ventures, feeling a bit dumb, not that it isn't true. Cas glances over at him, the corners of his eyes crinkled up slightly in that way that indicates a smile just under the surface. He looks away again, focusing on something Dean can't see.
"Since I became human," he begins, his voice much steadier than it usually is when discussing his newfound humanity, "I've felt the loss of my grace in a number of ways. I am no longer able to seek revelation, to seek guidance from God. I can no longer center myself in the connection I share with my brothers and sisters. I've felt... adrift."
"Cas..." Dean says, unsure of what he can say that will sound sincere and not trite, but Castiel cuts him off with a small shake of his head.
"This act of stretching and moving my vessel, of breathing, it... it's the closest I've come since falling. It allows me to center myself within this body. I didn't expect to find peace in such a simple act." He looks at Dean, his face calm and open.
Dean smiles at that, cautious at first but stretching into a grin when Cas returns it. He can feel his heart thumping, and he slowly reaches out to place his hand on Castiel's cheek. The other man's eyes widen slightly, his breath quickening, before he closes them and presses into Dean's hand. It's the most natural thing in the world then for Dean to lean forward and press his mouth to Castiel's. Cas responds immediately, and they kiss almost chastely for a few moments before Dean pulls back. He looks at Cas, searching for any hint of reluctance or unease. Finding none, he smiles again and reaches out to link their hands together.
Cas squeezes his hand before pulling him down to the grass. They lie next to one another, looking up at the trees as the branches sway in the wind, and they breathe.
Author: discreetmath
Rating: PG
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: AU post season 5.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1250
Summary: Castiel, fallen since the apocalypse that never was, finds a new way to cope with his humanity. Dean can't help but be fascinated.
A/N: Betaed by haughtymelodic. Written for the Destiel Word Prompt Contest on Tumblr. Prompt was 'yoga.'
Disclaimer: Characters and anything else recognizable do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them.
Cas hadn't been in his room when Dean had peeked in there this morning, so he's allowing himself one cup of coffee before he heads outside to make sure the guy is staying out of trouble. His mojo is in the toilet these days, and Dean still isn't quite sure he knows his own limits. Gulping down the last of the coffee, he winces as it burns his throat, then pushes back from the table and makes his way outside. Nothing's really visible from the porch except the tiny mountains of gutted cars, but he knows Cas won't be here anyway. He walks around to the side of the house before trudging off through the scrap yard. Maybe not trudging, because it's already looking like a gorgeous day, warm and breezy. But it's not even seven a.m., so there's not exactly a spring in his step.
Anyway, he picks his way across the yard until he reaches the field on the other side, spotting the flattened-down path through the high grass and following it to the tree line. The woods are thick here, but the route is familiar, and he walks for about a quarter of a mile before reaching the spot where he knows he'll find Cas, the grass lush and the sun cutting down through gaps in the trees above. He's wondered before how Cas found this spot, if he had to go looking for it or if he instinctively knew it was here, like some remnant of his grace let him know where all of the best spots in creation might be. Either way, this is where Dean frequently finds him, communing with nature or whatever he does, when the air in Bobby's house gets too heavy.
As he approaches, he sees Cas standing about fifteen feet away, his back to Dean. An old pair of Dean's shorts cling loosely to his narrow hips, but he's barefoot and shirtless. The sight makes Dean's throat tighten, and he stays quiet, curious to see what Cas is doing. While he watches, Cas bends his knees a bit, lifting his left leg. He crosses it over his right and wraps it back around his calf. He stretches his arms out before pulling them in and crossing them, pressing the backs of his hands together. He looks fluid and graceful, doing what Dean assumes is some kind of yoga.
He shifts where he stands, a twig snapping under his foot, and when Cas twitches his head slightly to the left he knows he's been caught.
"Hey Cas," he says, almost a whisper, unwilling to break the peacefulness of the moment. "What're you doing?"
Cas says nothing for a minute, eventually uncrossing his limbs and repeating the movement on the other side.
"Garudasana," he finally says quietly. "Eagle pose."
Dean nods his head before he realizes that Cas can't see him. He just watches as he holds the pose, motionless but for the slight rise and fall of his chest. Another minute passes before he unfolds himself and returns to standing as he had been when Dean arrived.
"Tadasana," Cas says this time, his arms hanging at his sides. "Mountain pose."
He remains like that, just breathing, and Dean knows it should be boring, but he's transfixed. His breath hitches when Cas moves again after a minute, lifting his left leg behind him. He reaches back to grasp his foot, lifting it impossibly high as he stretches his other arm in front of him. Dean's eyes wander over the elegant lines of his body.
"Natarajasana," Cas murmurs. "Dancer's pose."
Castiel's breathing is deep and even, but Dean's is shallow and quick. He pretends he doesn't understand why as he watches Cas move through a series of other positions. Some appear simple, some impossible. As he moves, the sunlight stripes across his bare chest and back, and his pale skin looks radiant. For the first time since their initial meeting in that barn so long ago, Dean can see without a doubt that Cas is something more than human.
Some time later, though Dean doesn't know how long he's been standing there, Cas slowly lowers himself to a supine position.
"Savasana," he says, voice low. "Corpse pose." Dean shudders.
But Cas isn't still. He moves in barely discernible ways, stretching his legs and shifting his hips minutely. To Dean's eye it looks like squirming, though he knows Cas is doing something he doesn't really understand. It goes on for several minutes, and Dean finds himself unable to look away. Finally, Cas exhales softly and rolls onto his side, breathing quietly for a moment before pushing himself up to his feet. He closes his eyes, clenching his toes in the grass and turning his face up to the sun. He opens them then, and turns to look directly at Dean. He nods slightly, and Dean takes it as a sign that he's allowed to come closer.
He crosses the distance between them, following Cas's lead when he sits down cross-legged. The grass is warm underneath them, and he feels some weird combination of contentedness and anticipation.
"So... yoga," he begins.
"Yes," Cas says simply, not looking at him.
"You're really good at it," Dean ventures, feeling a bit dumb, not that it isn't true. Cas glances over at him, the corners of his eyes crinkled up slightly in that way that indicates a smile just under the surface. He looks away again, focusing on something Dean can't see.
"Since I became human," he begins, his voice much steadier than it usually is when discussing his newfound humanity, "I've felt the loss of my grace in a number of ways. I am no longer able to seek revelation, to seek guidance from God. I can no longer center myself in the connection I share with my brothers and sisters. I've felt... adrift."
"Cas..." Dean says, unsure of what he can say that will sound sincere and not trite, but Castiel cuts him off with a small shake of his head.
"This act of stretching and moving my vessel, of breathing, it... it's the closest I've come since falling. It allows me to center myself within this body. I didn't expect to find peace in such a simple act." He looks at Dean, his face calm and open.
Dean smiles at that, cautious at first but stretching into a grin when Cas returns it. He can feel his heart thumping, and he slowly reaches out to place his hand on Castiel's cheek. The other man's eyes widen slightly, his breath quickening, before he closes them and presses into Dean's hand. It's the most natural thing in the world then for Dean to lean forward and press his mouth to Castiel's. Cas responds immediately, and they kiss almost chastely for a few moments before Dean pulls back. He looks at Cas, searching for any hint of reluctance or unease. Finding none, he smiles again and reaches out to link their hands together.
Cas squeezes his hand before pulling him down to the grass. They lie next to one another, looking up at the trees as the branches sway in the wind, and they breathe.