[Slash] Snapshot - 1/1
Title: Snapshots
Author: anyothergirl415
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel (my first time! *g*)
Spoilers: General for season 4
Warnings: Touch of angst
Word Count: 563
Summary: Castiel lets snapshots of memories from the past nine months filter through his mind.
Notes: Written for the spnwriterlounge for this prompt:
"This time, This place
Misused, Mistakes
Too long, Too late
Who was I to make you wait
Just one chance
Just one breath
Just in case there's just one left"
“Don’t you remember how it felt?” Dean asks quietly into the silence that has been threatening to suffocate them both for the past undeterminable stretch of time.
Castiel lets snapshots of memories from the past nine months filter through his mind. Dean’s beginning disbelief, the moment in Bobby’s kitchen when his eyes shown with the sudden realization that the angel was telling the truth. He’d be lying if he said that having Dean’s trust didn’t mean the world to him.
Fast forward through fights and complications. Castiel had been warned how difficult having a human charge would be but nothing could have prepared him for the whirlwind that made up Dean Winchester. For the emotions he was told no angel was to have. Emotions that sparked questions and doubt.
“Cas,” The man’s whisper is tight with unshed tears and something clenches in his gut. He remembers seeing Dean cry. He remembers not enjoying it and wanting desperately to provide comfort but not knowing how. “What did they do to you?”
It’s not exactly like Castiel forgot the first time they kissed. The tension between them had crackled like sparks across their skin and Castiel lost himself in trying to name the new urge threatening to overwhelm him. Dean had been saying something about withholding information being the same as lying before he snapped.
For a long moment after he’d stepped forward and pressed lips against Dean’s half parted ones they stood silent and still. Castiel would never be able to name the tingling that danced through his system when Dean hesitantly moved, pressing closer, slipping out a tongue to dart quickly over pale pink.
Something in him warns that this is his one and only chance. He has to make it count, has to communicate things he can’t name through soft touches and gentle fingers.
“Why won’t you look at me?” Dean asks and reaches out to run fingers down his arm. But Castiel steps back and Dean’s stares at his hand hovering in once occupied air with wide eyes. “Fuck,” he hisses as if Castiel has just slammed a fist into his gut.
When Dean is on his knees in front of him, lips parted in a sinfully delicious ‘O’ Castiel allows himself to indulge only this once in the human pleasure of orgasm. He can easily see its appeal and uses the logical of ‘do unto others’ to justify laying Dean back on the bed and memorizing the soft curves of tanned flesh.
This is the one and only time Castiel remembers feeling whole. Complete.
Then he’s taken away from this world, from Dean, and he remembers an eternity of being alone in a dimension of emotionless white.
“Just go,” Dean shakes his head, falling back against the wall before sliding down in a defeated crumble.
Nine months of turbulence overshadow the arc of eternity stretching behind him and Castiel itches to reach out, to comfort.
Instead, he turns his back on the one person who really matters and tries to ignore Dean’s strangled sob as he walks away. Unable and unwilling to take the easy route of simply disappearing.
They laid on the bed together, Castiel traced fingertips down Dean’s abs, eliciting a quiet moan from the man. It’s a different type of perfection that Heaven could never compare too and Castiel sighs happily for the first, and only, time.
Author: anyothergirl415
Rating: R
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel (my first time! *g*)
Spoilers: General for season 4
Warnings: Touch of angst
Word Count: 563
Summary: Castiel lets snapshots of memories from the past nine months filter through his mind.
Notes: Written for the spnwriterlounge for this prompt:
"This time, This place
Misused, Mistakes
Too long, Too late
Who was I to make you wait
Just one chance
Just one breath
Just in case there's just one left"
“Don’t you remember how it felt?” Dean asks quietly into the silence that has been threatening to suffocate them both for the past undeterminable stretch of time.
Castiel lets snapshots of memories from the past nine months filter through his mind. Dean’s beginning disbelief, the moment in Bobby’s kitchen when his eyes shown with the sudden realization that the angel was telling the truth. He’d be lying if he said that having Dean’s trust didn’t mean the world to him.
Fast forward through fights and complications. Castiel had been warned how difficult having a human charge would be but nothing could have prepared him for the whirlwind that made up Dean Winchester. For the emotions he was told no angel was to have. Emotions that sparked questions and doubt.
“Cas,” The man’s whisper is tight with unshed tears and something clenches in his gut. He remembers seeing Dean cry. He remembers not enjoying it and wanting desperately to provide comfort but not knowing how. “What did they do to you?”
It’s not exactly like Castiel forgot the first time they kissed. The tension between them had crackled like sparks across their skin and Castiel lost himself in trying to name the new urge threatening to overwhelm him. Dean had been saying something about withholding information being the same as lying before he snapped.
For a long moment after he’d stepped forward and pressed lips against Dean’s half parted ones they stood silent and still. Castiel would never be able to name the tingling that danced through his system when Dean hesitantly moved, pressing closer, slipping out a tongue to dart quickly over pale pink.
Something in him warns that this is his one and only chance. He has to make it count, has to communicate things he can’t name through soft touches and gentle fingers.
“Why won’t you look at me?” Dean asks and reaches out to run fingers down his arm. But Castiel steps back and Dean’s stares at his hand hovering in once occupied air with wide eyes. “Fuck,” he hisses as if Castiel has just slammed a fist into his gut.
When Dean is on his knees in front of him, lips parted in a sinfully delicious ‘O’ Castiel allows himself to indulge only this once in the human pleasure of orgasm. He can easily see its appeal and uses the logical of ‘do unto others’ to justify laying Dean back on the bed and memorizing the soft curves of tanned flesh.
This is the one and only time Castiel remembers feeling whole. Complete.
Then he’s taken away from this world, from Dean, and he remembers an eternity of being alone in a dimension of emotionless white.
“Just go,” Dean shakes his head, falling back against the wall before sliding down in a defeated crumble.
Nine months of turbulence overshadow the arc of eternity stretching behind him and Castiel itches to reach out, to comfort.
Instead, he turns his back on the one person who really matters and tries to ignore Dean’s strangled sob as he walks away. Unable and unwilling to take the easy route of simply disappearing.
They laid on the bed together, Castiel traced fingertips down Dean’s abs, eliciting a quiet moan from the man. It’s a different type of perfection that Heaven could never compare too and Castiel sighs happily for the first, and only, time.